Someplace Like Home |n.j

5.

He took me to the park. We sat by the side, on benches. And we simply watched. Someone was having a fight with their boyfriend, someone was tending to their crying baby, someone simply sat around with a friend and observed, much like the two of us. We watched for hours. It wasn't boring at all. I enjoyed it most when Namjoon would point in a certain direction, to show me what fascinated him. It was like seeing him through the images of others. I did the same once or twice, with a fighting couple that ignored their children, and a mother on a date with her two teens with no father in sight. There seemed to be a reoccurring theme with mine.

Namjoon did ask me about my own family at one point, to which I replied with, "I don't want to talk about it."

And he was okay with it.

It was unusual but nice. Before, I would always change the topic, as awkward as it would become. And yet I was so honest with him, so quick to let him know how it was without any fabrication. And Namjoon didn't mind. Namjoon didn't push me into telling him. Namjoon didn't try to make himself feel better by trying to fix my life.

I don't think he knows how strange I am when I'm with him. Like I am myself, or someone that I could be. I'm not like this when I'm alone either.

We're at the bus stop now, sitting on the chipped metal seats. The both of us came to a decision that lunch was not a necessity, since our breakfast took place late enough to be considered brunch. Namjoon was to take us somewhere that hasn't yet been revealed to me. If he doesn't kidnap or kill me by the end of the day, we'll also have dinner somewhere nearby.

There was a mild rainfall when we had our first meal, leaving the air cold and foggy. Little puddles on the road and droplets of rain still escaping the roof over our seats were enough evidence of that. Now seemed like a good time to smoke. We weren't exactly chatting either. I took the lighter and a pack of cigarettes out from my bag.

It wasn't hard to catch Namjoon's eyes following the objects in my hand. I hope he doesn't mind. Or does he want one too?

"You didn't seem like a smoker." He uttered as I inhaled the lit up cigarette between my fingers. I turn to him and puff out the smoke in his face with a smile. Namjoon scrunches his nose in distaste.

"What does a smoker look like? Just anyone with an actual cigarette, right?" I say to him. Namjoon takes it lightly with a shrug.

"You're not going to tell me it's unhealthy?" It was a usual routine to go through, every time I met someone new. They all seemed bent on giving their own go at attempting to fix my life, filling the silence with their useless lessons. I learned to bear with it after some time. Their goal is never to annoy me, after all.

The man next to me shakes his head, "You already know that though, don't you? Everyone has their own pleasures that they feed in exchange for their health. One isn't exactly worse than the other just because it's out for everyone to see."

Fair enough, I take another inhale. Puffing out, I asked after a few shared seconds of silence, "What's your unhealthy pleasure then?"

He didn't pause before answering, as if he was always waiting for such a question, "I let my life continue in its stale state because I don't have what it takes to change it."

Goddamn, is this man alright? Maybe he needs a cigarette too. I take the gadget off my lips to speak, exhaling the smoke as I did, "That's not really a pleasure though, is it? Just a compromise for you to not get up your ass and change things. You only say you can't because you don't want it badly enough." At least that's what it is like for a lot of people. And maybe for me too.

"You're right. I haven't done anything pleasurable in a while either."

I thought back to that moment at Mangasick, "Maybe you could play with photography. And maybe take that first step too, to changing that stale life of yours?" It was just a suggestion. I'm not anyone that can tell him what to do. I look away to see our bus coming from the other end. There's no need to rush to get up though. We still have a few seconds.

Namjoon stood up anyway, eyes peeled away from my sight. Little did I know, it was all to stop himself from letting the words clogging his throat to exit his mouth: that me entering his life was the first step he'd already taken.