A/N: This story started out as a philosophical thought (aka the boyfriend’s line). Do you agree with me? Or am I merely crazy? Anyway, enjoy!
Starting in college was one of the easiest decisions Julia had ever made. In fact it hardly even counted as a decision. She had always known that she would go as soon as she finished high school, and the transition to the local college was an easy one. She didn’t even have to move out. She simply drove to another address as she left the house in the morning.
However, finishing her bachelor degree forced her to consider her future. She had never bothered to think much about it. She loved her present life. Her family, her friends and her boyfriend of three years were all right where she needed them. Still, she couldn’t live at home for forever, and she did want to continue her education.
In the end she travelled across two states in order to start at Boston University School of Medicine in order to study forensic anthropology. Her boyfriend moved with her, which made the decision so much easier, and it only seemed natural at this point that they should move in together.
Both their families were well-off, though not stinkingly rich, and by sharing rent they were able to afford a rather nice two-bedroom apartment that was within walking distance to the college.
Both of them did well in school and Julia liked her classes. Her forensic anthropology and her boyfriend’s cultural anthropology was similar enough that they could discuss what they’d learned that day without confusion or incomprehension.
Julia had every reason to be happy. She had a nice apartment, a boyfriend whom she planned to marry one day, a new group of similar-minded friends, and an education she truly cared about.
Yet she wasn’t happy. Not completely.
She didn’t feel at home in their new apartment with the many bookshelves and her boyfriend’s Star Wars figurines. She assumed that a feeling of it being her home would come naturally as time went by, but it kept feeling as if she was merely visiting the place; like she was really just renting a room at a hotel. It was an unpleasant feeling for a girl whose home had always meant the world to her.
She wanted her new place to feel like home, but had no idea how to make it.
In the end though, it happened on its own. Ironically by having the worst two weeks ever.
Her boyfriend and she had decided to go the Greece for the summer. A vacation of sun, culture and colourful drinks sounded perfect, and it probably would have been if a storm hadn’t ruined the promised weather, and Julia hadn’t gotten the worst round of food poisoning she had ever had.
In the end she spent ten days lying in bed and occasionally going to the bathroom to throw up. When she finally started to feel better, it was time to go home, and she still felt so weak that her boyfriend had to support her to the airport, while asking for the hundredth time if she was really up for the travel, and didn’t she want to postpone it for just a couple of days?
Julia refused to spend a day more in Greece, and she held on to this decision despite it being the longest trip she’d ever been on. She got airsick on the plane, and car sick on the trip from the airport to their apartment. When they finally made it there she was exhausted.
By now all Julia wanted was to take a quick shower in her own bathroom, eat some take-out, and curl up underneath the sheets in her very own bed, where she would sleep for at least a couple of days. After that she would spent a week watching mindless TV and trying to come over her horrible, horrible vacation.
She had never been so happy to be home.
And at this thought Julia stopped in shock. She had never thought of their apartment as home, but now she almost cried in relief at the sight of the many bookshelves and the little Star Wars figurines. For the first time in almost a year she was home.
Telling her boyfriend of her thoughts seemed natural now that her problem had been solved, and when he heard her admission, her merely grinned at her.
“Well, it makes sense,” he told her. “A place you return to are far more likely to feel like a home than a place in which you are merely stuck.”
It was true. Their apartment hadn’t felt like home until after they had left it behind.
Julia really should have told him the problem from the beginning.
But rather than regretting the past, she merely grinned back at him. “Rather late than never,” she told him. “Now what’s for dinner? I’m starving.”