Someplace Like Home |n.j

4.

I didn't get to really look at him until now. Namjoon has grey hair, the type that makes you wonder what he looks like with his natural colour. It looked good on him though. Cold and calm, kind of like himself. His features are soft, and not very eye-catching. He isn't a very in-your-face guy, in more ways than one, I've noticed. He's reserved and dwells in solitude. I like that about him.

"So where is this place that you're taking me to?" His voice is quiet too, without too many changes of pitch. Namjoon's entire person gives you the feeling that you aren't obligated to do or think anything.

"Right ahead." We stop before another frequently visited destination of mine, Mangasick. The store was in the basement, where we are always requested to take our shoes off. Namjoon looked quietly around the stairway, where the posters found a home on the walls. They were mainly signs for upcoming/previous events, some I had gone to myself.

"Mangasick sells zines and alternative comics. You can find a lot of local independent art here." One thing I always enjoyed about constantly moving, was looking for stores like these, stores that support local artists and writers. You can learn about the culture and grasp the energy of the city quite easily that way.

"They also have galleries every once in a while for specific artists. I haven't checked this time's, so it'll be a surprise for the both of us."

I placed my shoes along with everyone else' and saw Namjoon do the same.

"I've lived here all my life, it's a wonder I never knew about a store like this." His voice sounded from behind as we opened the door that finally revealed the interior. I couldn't help but smile at the smell of print paper that overwhelmed me.

"Maybe it's because you've had all your life to be here. Sometimes feeling unfamiliar is what it takes to look around." I mindlessly reply, eyes widening at the new gallery.

It was one of my favourite artists, how could I have missed this? I've really been out of myself lately. I'm usually very in control and clear in my head.

There were her prints, folders, comics, cups, everything. So how long have I been missing out on this? Why did I ever let myself down like this?

"Little Thunder," Namjoon commented, walking to stand beside me as I gaped at the hand-drawn copy framed on the wall.

So he knows her too. I turn to look at him.

Namjoon paid no attention to my gaze as he studied the pieces. I don't know what took over me. I couldn't stop looking at his eyes: the calm storm that drew me in so deeply. They were so ordinary, mono-lid with eyelashes like everyone else's. So why can't I look away? I was so glad to see the gallery, so why haven't I given it an ounce of attention, the second I found Namjoon's eyes?

I must be crazy, because I swear I was possessed when my hand reached into my tote bag and
took out the camera inside.

My lips wouldn't close, even while I brought the viewfinder to my eyes and aimed to where he was. Namjoon caught on at the very second I pressed the shutter button. So there it was, the image of his eyes looking surprisedly into the lens, forever taking a slot of my precious film.

We were both shocked, but for very different things. I don't know what took over me. I really don't. It was as if I wanted to stop time, to stay in that moment, to look at his eyes for as long as I could, until I figured out what it was about them that I found so alluring.

I've never taken a photo of someone I knew before.

I've only ever clicked the shutter button for things I found intriguing, things I wished to look at another time. They were always photos of things I found inspiring; art outside of galleries and museums.

It's out of character for me to be so foolish and attach an emotion to another person. I never wanted to take pictures of other people, for the same reason that I refuse to let other people leave traces of themselves in my life.

His eyes widened at the camera, and eventually took them into his own hands, "Is this a film camera? I haven't seen these up close in a while!"

This must've been the first time in a while that Namjoon's gotten excited over something, because it sounded so foreign, truly. But my mind was already somewhere else. Frozen. Stilled. Too far gone to notice.

Why did I do that? What if I actually want to keep him around? Have I grown attached to his presence? Is that okay?

"Nami?"

This isn't like me. I don't treasure human interaction, I don't go looking around for it. I wouldn't even have accepted Namjoon's request to spend the day together if I hadn't completely ruined his night. I never allowed myself to let other people go anywhere near my heart or my mind. It would be intruding, surely, and it would take me away from what really was important; my work, and secretly: keeping myself from understanding the part of me I've already buried away too deep.

There it was again, the irritating reminder of Yua's words from yesterday. Every time I think about what she told me, my heart pangs like an alarm, as if she's getting too close to something I don't want to face.

"Nami...you there?" Namjoon pulls me away from my head temporarily, stuffing the camera back into my hand.

"Oh," I swallow, "Yeah. Sorry about that." I put the camera back into my bag.

"Where did you get your camera?"

"I got it online a few years back. It's second hand, so the flash doesn't work." He then asked to see it again, so I dug it out and handed it to him.

I let him be with the camera and went on my own to look at the merchandise. Maybe I'll buy her comic, I haven't gotten the chance to read it yet. A familiar click went off from behind me. 'Jesus', I think in my head when I turn to look at the grey-haired man.

Namjoon puts down the camera that covered his face and revealed a smile that I'm seeing for the very first time. I couldn't stop myself from admiring the crescent-shaped eyelids, the dimples that curved his honey skin, and the delicacy of it all. I think a part of me wanted this image preserved on film, too. His smile was so mesmerizing, I swear I felt my heart fly.

Oh, fuck.