Someplace Like Home |n.j

6.

It was well into the night when our day together drew to an end. Namjoon had a shift soon, so I decided to follow along for a drink by his invitation. It was when we entered the bar, that I finally remind myself of the incidents from last night. He took me to the staff's locker room, where he was to put his belongings and eventually change into the uniform.

"How much did I drink last night, exactly?" I asked while he took off his jacket, and hung it in his locker.

Namjoon hesitated, "You ordered a few shots after like..two bottles of beer."

I drop my forehead onto the metal locker, and it shakes in response. Me, drunk like that? How embarrassing could that have been? I'd never show my face around here a second time. And yet here I am, once again. Namjoon didn't react as I groaned. Looking to see the silence for myself, I realized he was just busy changing.

I quickly look away after catching a glimpse of his bare chest with his uniform in hand. My cheeks redden involuntarily. It didn't matter that it was no longer in sight, my mind had already engraved the image well into memory.

"Sorry about that," Namjoon chuckled quietly. I kept my eyes away from him until he told me I could turn around.

He was changed into a suit with his hair swept up. So this is what he looked like last night, when I'd completely disregarded him, yet ended up owing him so much by the next morning. It's funny how a simple stranger could suddenly mean something so different by the end of a single day.

We were back in the same position as last night soon enough, with me sitting on a bar stool with Namjoon on the other side.

"Make sure I don't drink too much, alright?" I told him, "I don't have that many digits in my bank account."

Namjoon looked at me with a side of his lips perked up, just almost passing as a smile, "That is my job, whether or not you have the money for it. So I apologize, for yesterday's mistake. You wouldn't be here again if I stopped you last night."

Despite his choice of words, I don't take today as a punishment, or find any feeling of distaste attached to it. Maybe I am not upset at him for not limiting my alcohol consumption. Maybe I don't mind being here again, even if it meant flattening my wallet.

"I'll forgive you."

The customers were quick to pour in once the night dragged further on. Our chatting became less frequent as they busied him, and our shared conversations were getting harder to hear with the disturbance of everybody else's. We eventually gave in to the situation and let the time pass in verbal silence. But it's what happened in between that was weird.

Even as he made drinks and served them, our eyes never truly left each other. I could always feel his gaze on mine, even as I looked away. They would follow me no matter if I was looking or not. When I reached down to pick something off the floor, or when I left my seat to take a trip to the bathroom; his eyes never left. And I liked how it felt, guiltily. I liked the feeling of having his attention, and seemingly, only his.

My eyes behaved no differently, it's almost as if I found it important to keep him in my sight, to be present as he experienced all that would happen tonight. I didn't want to miss anything. The different gazes in his eyes, the polite smile he would gift to customers that would make his cheeks lift, the calmness in his soft voice as he communicated with his colleagues. I wanted to be there for all of it, to see more of it.

I later realized that I found him mesmerizing even when he wasn't smiling. It wasn't just when he was looking at an artwork, or when his lips were jerked upwards. Namjoon had all of me tonight, and he didn't have to do anything. He didn't have to do anything at all.

The moment that I began to comprehend the truth, I ran out of the bar in a panic with my heart out of my chest. I left without leaving behind a farewell, only a single fifty-dollar bill. I knew his eyes followed me as I did so, even if his feet hadn't done the same.

I ran out of the bar and onto the late-night bus. The rapid thumping of my chest never once calmed, even as I laid in bed, away from the bar, away from the very man behind it.

He was nowhere in sight, not in my room, not in my bed, but he was still so clear in my mind. Maybe I shouldn't have left the bar, because it had proved my guess all too correct. I no longer had any excuses to ignore it.

I'd fallen in love with him.