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Lorien never had a problem traveling from Scotland to America before, but now that he had to travel from three places, it was a bit stressful. He was going from Korea to America to spend Thanksgiving with his father and his sister. It has slowly become a tradition since he moved to Korea in 2021.

Thanksgiving had always been a holiday he spent going to America to see his dad. It was his dad's holiday, and it never made things easier that his mom always tried to get him and Kian to spend Thanksgiving with her even though they didn't celebrate Thanksgiving like they do in America. It always seemed like she was nitpicking at him for not choosing her over his dad. He never understood why, especially when she knew that Thanksgiving was a holiday that both he and Kian went to America to celebrate.

He sighed, running his hands through his hair as he looked at the half-packed suitcase on the ground. The last few days had been a shitstorm of meetings, schedules, and calls. It was all hectic for him. He hadn't had time to pack his suitcase for his trip to America, which was in 4 hours. Sleep hadn't been something that he had gotten in the last few days.

He glanced at his phone as it buzzed again, this time a message from his mom. It was the same message she sent every year: the subtle guilt trip, asking why he couldn't come back to Scotland for Thanksgiving, why it had to be about his dad every time.

He stared at the screen for a moment, his finger hovering over the text. He thought about ignoring it—he didn't have the energy to deal with her right now—but he knew that would only lead to another round of passive-aggressive messages later. Sighing, he tapped the screen and called her back, already preparing himself for the conversation.

"Yes, Mother?" Lorien answered, running his fingers through his hair yet again. It was silent for a minute before she answered, her voice sharp. "Lorien," she said, "I hear you're going to your father's for Thanksgiving." Lorien sighed. Of course, she probably heard it through the grapevine, as usual. People usually can't keep stuff to themselves, can they?

"I am. And let me guess, Kian told you? Accidentally let it slip?" He questioned, already cussing his brother out in his head. Lorien heard a faint huff on the other line before his mother's voice cut through again. "Lorien, it doesn't matter how I found out. I don't understand why you guys always choose your father over me. It's Thanksgiving, for God's sake. I want to spend time with my kids as well. Sure, we don't celebrate Thanksgiving like they do in America, but it would be nice to have you guys here for at least a few days."

Lorien squeezed his eyes shut, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Mom, we've been through this. Thanksgiving is Dad's holiday. Thanksgiving is important to Dad." He leaned back against the edge of his desk, trying to remain calm despite the growing tension he could feel building. "Look, it's not that we don't want to spend this time of the year with you; it's just Dad's turn this year. We spent the holidays with you and Nathaniel last year, so this year is going to be spent with Dad. But the fact that you're calling and trying to get us to change our minds is upsetting. You're trying to change what we've been doing for the past 3 years. You can't just keep asking me to change it every year."

"That's because you're my children, Lorien," she shot back, her tone sharpening. "Do you think it's easy for me, sitting here every year, knowing you're across the ocean spending time with him? I miss you both."

Lorien exhaled slowly, trying to keep his cool. "Mom, I get that, I do. But this is how it's been for years now. Thanksgiving is Dad's thing. It's important to him, just like how Christmas is important to you. We make sure to split it. You know that."

"But why can't you come here just this once? Nathaniel misses you too. He keeps asking when you're going to visit," she said, her voice softening just enough to slip in a little guilt.

"Nathaniel knows I'm busy," Lorien replied firmly. "And he understands that my schedule is tight. I'm not saying I don't appreciate him, but this isn't about him, is it? You do this every year, Mom. I can't keep having the same argument with you."

"It's not an argument, Lorien," she insisted, though her tone suggested otherwise. "I just want to understand why it's always him. I raised you, too. I made sacrifices for you and Kian."

Lorien's jaw tightened. The word sacrifices always felt like a loaded grenade when it came from her. "I know you did," he said carefully, keeping his voice steady. "And I appreciate everything you did for us. But you can't keep using that as leverage to make us feel guilty. This isn't about choosing sides—it's about traditions that work for everyone."

"Traditions," she muttered bitterly. "You're so much like him. Stubborn. Always putting others before me."
He closed his eyes, his free hand gripping the edge of the desk as he forced himself to stay calm. "Mom, I'm not putting anyone before you. This isn't a competition. It's about balance. I've told you this before—Dad doesn't get Christmas; you do. Can't that be enough?"

"Balance," she scoffed, the word dripping with sarcasm. "You think I don't notice how much more time you give him than me?"

"Mom," Lorien said, his voice firmer now, "this isn't fair. I love you both, but this kind of guilt-tripping isn't helping. It's exhausting, and it makes me dread these conversations every year. Can we please just leave it at this? I'll visit Scotland when I can, but not for Thanksgiving."

There was silence on the other end of the line, long enough for Lorien to wonder if she'd hung up. Finally, she spoke, her voice quieter but still carrying that edge of disappointment. "Fine. Go spend Thanksgiving with your father. But don't expect me to keep asking you to visit forever, Lorien. I won't beg."

"I'm not asking you to beg," he replied, his tone softening slightly, though his frustration lingered. "I just want you to understand. I'll call you when I land in America, okay?"

"Do what you want," she said, and the line went dead. Lorien pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the screen for a moment. He dropped it onto the desk with a sigh, running both hands through his hair. The conversation had drained him, as it always did. He glanced at the half-packed suitcase on the floor, the sight of it only adding to his frustration.

"Perfect start to the holiday," he muttered, grabbing the suitcase and pulling it onto the bed. He had a flight to catch, and no time to dwell on the argument. At least, not yet.

Lorien sat there for a moment, staring at the dim glow of his phone screen. The silence in his apartment felt heavier now, like it was pressing against his chest. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stand and focus on the suitcase still splayed open on the floor. The clothes he'd thrown in earlier were in a haphazard mess, and he realized he'd have to repack it properly or risk forgetting something important.

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, reminding him that he didn't have much time left. Four hours until his flight. He crouched down, methodically folding shirts and stacking them alongside pants and socks. His mind wandered as he worked, replaying the conversation with his mom. It was always the same with her—a mix of guilt, disappointment, and subtle jabs that left him feeling wrung out.

Shaking his head, Lorien pushed the thoughts aside and zipped the suitcase shut. He checked his passport and plane ticket for what felt like the hundredth time, then slung his carry-on over his shoulder. As he moved to grab his coat, his phone buzzed again. He glanced at the screen and saw a message from Kian saying he would meet him at the airport.

Lorien allowed himself a small smile. If there was anyone who could make this trip bearable, it was Kian. His brother had always been a grounding presence, even when their mom's dramatics threatened to pull them under.

The drive to the airport was uneventful, but Lorien felt the exhaustion creeping in. By the time he arrived and checked in, he was practically running on autopilot. The terminal was bustling with travelers, the air filled with overlapping conversations, the hum of announcements, and the occasional clatter of luggage wheels.

As he cleared customs and made his way to the arrival area, his eyes scanned the crowd for Kian. It didn't take long to spot him. Kian stood near a coffee kiosk, dressed in a plain hoodie and jeans, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He looked up as Lorien approached, a grin spreading across his face.

"About time," Kian said dapping his brother up. "I was starting to think you'd miss the flight." Lorien shook his head. "Not a chance," Lorien replied, his voice tinged with weariness. "I've had enough stress without adding a missed flight to the list." Kian raised an eyebrow. "Mom again?"

"Who else?" Lorien muttered, adjusting the strap of his carry-on. "Same argument, different year. She doesn't get why we're sticking with this arrangement. And of course, she threw in the classic 'I won't beg forever' line." Kian let out a low whistle. "She really doesn't let up, does she? You'd think by now she'd accept it."

"Yeah, well," Lorien sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You know how she is. Let's just hope Dad and Yari don't give me a hard time. I'm already running on fumes." Kian nudged him lightly as they started walking toward their gate. "Yari's four months old. What's she gonna do, cry at you? You'll survive."

Lorien chuckled despite himself. "Fair point. How's she doing, anyway? Dad's been sending me updates, but it's not the same as being there."

"She's good. Loud, but good," Kian said with a smirk. "You'll see soon enough. She's already got Dad wrapped around her tiny little finger."

"Sounds about right," Lorien said, a trace of warmth slipping into his voice. Despite the chaos surrounding his family, the thought of seeing his baby sister brought a small flicker of excitement.

They reached the gate, where a few early passengers were already lining up. Kian plopped down in one of the chairs, gesturing for Lorien to do the same. "You look like you haven't slept in days," he said, leaning back.

"Because I haven't," Lorien admitted, sinking into the seat next to him. "Schedules have been insane. I barely had time to pack, let alone rest."

"Well," Kian said, stretching his legs out in front of him, "you've got a long flight ahead. Try to get some shut-eye. I'll wake you when we board."

"Appreciate it," Lorien muttered, closing his eyes for a moment. The dull roar of the airport faded into the background, replaced by the steady presence of his brother beside him. For the first time in days, Lorien felt the tension in his shoulders begin to ease. Maybe this trip wouldn't be so bad after all.