"When was the last time when you did something for the first time?"
Later at night Namjoon snuck out of his room's window and started walking towards the nearest park. Today he was gonna ask him for sure, what that man's name was and where he had come from. Surprisingly, he had faded scars on his hands too just like Namjoon did, except Namjoon's were fresh and blood crusted.
And every time he added a new one, the man would silently come up to him and show him his new dried scar. Namjoon always wondered how they had the same scars.
Namjoon was addicted to self-harm. Was he too? But if he added a new scar every day then wouldn’t it be fresh and not dried and healed like they were? His face was clad in a black mask and his muscular physique kept Namjoon's curiosity at bay. He looked fearsome, and thus Namjoon did not want to mess with him.
But he never realised how the man had found him. He could only remember finding the man sitting on the park bench one night when he had snuck out of his house. It looked as if the man was waiting for him. They didn't have long conversations but even those few words that came out of his mouth seemed familiar to Namjoon.
~To be continued
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The Candencenaut ||KNJ||
Short StoryTime is the most indefinable yet paradoxical of things; the past is gone, the future has not come yet, and the present becomes the past even while we attempt to define it, and, like the flash of lightning, at once exists and expires. Namjoon realis...
