#( me finally finishing this 10 yrs later so i can write related starters alsdkjg )

[lgcbk]

⸻ CHANGES.

( 12.23 ) He's greeted by the dim glow of a hall light as he enters the apartment.

He leaves his sneakers by the door. Doesn't bother to neatly place them next to his father's Oxfords. Not that it would matter if he did, anyway. His parents aren't home. Wouldn't be for at least a few more days.

The move is next week. You'll have to get your things.

The message read. The lack of explanation wasn't unusual. He doesn't bother to call. To clarify. What good would come of even asking? He knows now that he and his parents live completely separate lives. He likes to think he's known that for a while. Their contractual familial agreement had run its term long before he'd left home. He's stopped expecting there to be some soft of miraculous change in his absence. He's come to terms with it despite the thoughts that still cross his mind every now and again. If I just keep hoping, wishing, praying - it will be different. It has to be different.

Byeongkwan wanders around his childhood home first, stepping over haphazardly packed boxes and moving bags waiting for whatever service company would be arriving by the end of the week. The fridge is empty save for a few condiments and partially emptied takeout containers. The living room is devoid of any personal touches, plaques and certificates tucked away in safe foam wrapping. Their bedroom is already packed, closets laid bare leaving a few empty hangers and discarded undershirts in the far corner. His mother's trinkets swiped from the dresser.

He wonders where his parents are spending the the holiday. A work function? Some stuffy hotel toiling away at their laptops like last year? Their new place? For once he isn't angry. Doesn't long for some semblance of 'family togetherness' during the season that touted it as a time to be cherished.

His room is barely touched, though. Just as he'd left it. A desk littered with old textbooks, crumpled sheets of paper, and a soccer trophy that had fallen from its shelf, requiring a bit of superglue to repair it. The fan he'd kept in the corner of the room, coated with a layer of dust. His old keyboard with its tricky keys from overuse - and that one Red Bull incident.

His vinyl wall is still intact, its rows of cover art up on display like his own personal mural. Byeongkwan rolls in his empty suitcase reserved for the more fragile items, and begins to toss the rest into some leftover garbage bags. Jeans, uniforms, old shoes, yearbooks graffitied with designs and vulgar notes from his friends back in high school. He moves on to his other keepsakes. Scholarly certificates, awards from piano competitions, class rank notes. He wasn't a bad kid, he thinks.

It takes him longer than he'd expected to rummage through his old things - afternoon became night, night became a new day without sight of his parents. He'd managed to discard most of his belongings in between listening sessions on his old vintage record player and a few meal breaks. Soon, all that remained was a loosely wrapped box under his desk, unaddressed. He drops into a crosslegged seat and slides it over, shifting around some tissue paper to reveal a new soccer jersey, some loose leaf tea, and random convenience store snacks. A birthday gift for his grandfather. "From the family." Forgotten and tossed in with the rest of his things. He huffs in frustration - an understatement considering how his blood began to boil at the thought of yet another missed occasion. Another let down.

It has to be different.

And he could make it different. He could makes things better. Make them right.

He tucks the box under his arm, gathers up his bags and suitcase, and makes his way out of the apartment. Into the cold morning. He doesn't give the place a second glance. Doesn't wait for another wave of melancholy nostalgia.

This was a goodbye.

A good riddance.

A new start.

#( solo. ) #( me finally finishing this 10 yrs later so i can write related starters alsdkjg )