Someplace Like Home |n.j

39.

"Go away," I lean deeper into the arm rest with my leg pushing on Hoseok's chest to keep him off of me. The man tries to get a peak but I'm quick to tuck it back inside the envelope.

"Why, it's not like she mailed you nudes." He falls back down onto the sofa in defeat and I let my leg rest. I put the letter in my pocket.

"It wasn't for you."

Hoseok huffs, "I wish I had a lover that wrote me letters."

"Then stop sleeping around and go get yourself one," I snapped back. I stand up from the couch and move to my desk.

I'm writing her back.

"You can see yourself out," I mumbled, no longer able to lend Hoseok my attention. I hear a scoff and some more complaints, but I let them fly pass by my ears.

"Boys aren't shit, and you're no exception," I catch him ramble from behind me. I furrow my brows. What ridiculous crap is he going on about now? I pull out a blank sheet of white paper from my drawer and pick out the smoothest black pen from my pencil holder.

"Once you guys meet a woman, suddenly the best-friend doesn't even matter anymore. I put in work for this relationship, all she did was get drunk at the bar." I chuckle under my breath. It's funny, I'll give him that. Just a bit.

"Stop moping around," I pull out another sheet of paper, "Since you have so much to say, write to her. I'll mail it with mine."

Hoseok drops the act and sighs, walking over to take it from my hand. I adjust myself in my seat and pick up my pen. I don't know where Hoseok will write, maybe on the kitchen counter.

My phone buzzes from the edge of the table right as I managed to spell out her name with the ink. I lean over to look at the screen and let out a heavy exhale at the sight of my mother's name.

"Who is it?"

I groan, "My mother."

I heard Hoseok suck in a breath. He gets it.

Maybe if I wait long enough she'll give up. I sit back with my arms crossed against my chest. It's silent for a few seconds before it rings once again. Twice? That's too desperate for her personality. I give in and pick up the phone.

"Mother? Sorry, I was in the bathroom-"

"Please," She was crying. My mother was really crying, "Please head over now. Your father had another stroke,"

She wasn't crying the first time. I feel something heavy settle within my stomach.

"I don't think he's going to make it. We're on the ambulance, please come over Namjoon."

I let my phone drop to the table. Her sobs leak through the speaker and all I can think about is the fact that I never talked to him since his first stroke. I never called.

"Namjoon? What is it?"

Hoseok's voice shakes me back into reality. I swallow the thick lump in my throat and shake my head. I come to my senses and remove myself from the seat, its legs screeching loudly as I stood.

"Namjoon?"

My feet scramble around the studio. I slip on my jacket and throw my keys and my wallet in the pocket.

"Uh-your phone," I look back from the doorway at Hoseok who was holding my phone in his hand. My eyes were glazed with tears. I can't see clearly enough to read his expression. I didn't try to and shut the door behind me.

***

"Mother?" There's a lady crouched over on a seat in the hallway. I cannot see their face but I know it's her. She stands up at the sound of my voice and I swear I felt something in my heart split.

My mother falls into my arms and clings onto my shoulders as if she'd fall otherwise. I frantically hold her, turning to see through the window of the door. I squint my eyes and see a sheet of white on the hospital bed.

No.

I feel a sting in my nose, and the next thing I know I'm crying into my mother's chest. I'll never see him again and I said nothing. Did he know that I loved him before he died? He was my father. Just months ago he was a voice through my phone, wishing me happy birthday. Now he's just a cold carcass, soon he'll simply be ashes in an urn. And I said nothing.

I've been hollowed out.

"I asked them to keep him in there a little longer so you could see him," She sniffed against the fabric of my shirt. I felt her pulling me towards the room.

'No', I try to say, but nothing comes out. I don't want to. I'll ruin me. But she drags me inside anyway. Sooner than I wanted, I was standing before the hospital bed, looking at the same sheet of white that hid my father's corpse.

My mother lifts the piece of fabric and I cover my face with my palm. I can't do it. I start crying into my hand.
I don't want to look, because it's real once I do. It won't just be a nightmare, or a mad prank from my mother. But I have to.

I slowly peel my hand from my eyelids and I flutter my eyes open. And there he was. I fight to not close my eyes. Nothing looks right at all. He doesn't look like he's sleeping. He doesn't look at peace. This is all wrong. Is this even him?

My mother is sobbing at the top of her lungs from
the other side of the bed and it's haunting me, filling my ears so much that I cannot escape from this reality.

I turn my head from my father as I covered his face with the linen. I walk backwards until my back meets the wall. I slide to the floor once my legs begin to feel weak. I've always heard people talk about death, and how much it hurts. I thought I understood. Now I really do, and it's ten times worse.

All I have left is regret.

I lift my head up to see the broken state that my mother is in. A woman that stands so tall with nothing but authority and determination in her voice is now curled up in her own arms, drowning in her tears as if the sky had fallen. And frankly there's nothing more close to it.

I didn't know my mother could crack this way. She was always so hardened, I was never confident that she loved anyone or anything. It was impossible to see through her expressions and find someone I could relate to as a human. But she loves him so much.

She wasn't like this when her parents died. No, she didn't budge. She handled it like a walk in the park.

But she loves him so much that she's crumbling before me like it's all she knows how to do.

I never really knew my mother at all. And maybe she never wanted me to know her.

I push myself up from the wall and make my way towards my mother. Halfway there she walks over to me herself and cries into my chest. She wraps her arms around me so tightly. This is all so unfamiliar. She's never done this before. All I can do is hug her back, hoping she won't shatter beyond repair.

Death really changes a person. It changes everything.