Someplace Like Home |n.j

8.

The sun leaking through the window burned on my skin, waking me up from my sleep. It was no trouble for me to recall the events of last night, and my first instinct was to turn to look at the spot beside me.

Nami was already up, sitting at the edge of the bed with her body crouching forward. She was in her own black t-shirt, and by the looks of her slightly curled and damp hair, Nami had already treated herself to a shower. I rub my eyes and stretched my body further to see what was covering her torso, and found a cigarette on her lips as she brought the lighter up in place.

"Good morning?" I croaked. Nami turns around and blinks at me, then acknowledges the cigarette on her own lips. She mumbles an apology, "Sorry, I really needed a smoke, but I didn't want to leave before you woke up. Since that would seem..."

There was no sign of regret or embarrassment over what happened last night. But it was odd, this sense of atmosphere. We didn't wake up with an urge to kiss each other, and we didn't cuddle to bed either. Rather than having the sex pull us closer, it seemed to have built a different wall between us. And the wall wasn't built on shame, or awkwardness. It was built on the fact that that's all it was—sex—nothing more. Sex with no strings attached, not even a single thread.

We went from strangers to acquaintances, to nearly-friends, and now, apparently, each other's one-night-stand. It's not exactly what I had in mind, to be perfectly honest.

I shrugged in response to her apology. "I'm also sorry about storming in drunk," Still no mentioning of what really happened. Is she dodging the matter, or does she really not mind it at all?

"I should head back home," Nami stands up and sticks a hand in her tousled locks, puffing out the smoke, "Your shirt's clean anyway, you come back for it any time. You still remember where I live, right?" She turns her head to look at me, I nod silently. The fact that I'm topless didn't seem to faze her, either.

Nami trapped the cigarette between her lips to free her hands, then used them to slide back on the once disregarded corduroy pants. She hopped around the floor to pull them up, I'd laugh if I wasn't busy fretting over the nature of what we were.

"I threw my clothes from last night in your laundry bin, just to let you know." She informed me casually as if we've already been doing this for ages now. I accept it too, as if that really was the case. Nami blows out once again, filling my nose with her nicotine fumes.

She eventually exited my studio with a nonchalant 'goodbye', and I was too out of it to say anything that could keep her around. I was finally left alone with my thoughts, what a joyful feeling.

I had assumed Nami wouldn't show up at the bar, turns out I was right—half right. I just happened to have missed the part where she does show up, and she's drunk, and she's in my studio. And that we had sex. Minor details, right?

I slip off the bed and head over to the bathroom. The air is a lot foggier than usual, and now my whole studio smells of her cigarettes. I let out a defeated sigh as I walk towards the toilet, passing by the laundry basket that was once again filled with someone else's clothing.

***

"She's going to break your fucking heart." Hoseok waved his hand in the air in disapproval.

Hoseok is the only one in my life right now that could pass as my friend. Despite our differences, we're both each other's closest companion. He's a party animal with the most knowledge over the most irrelevant things, and I like to live in silence, or rather, I'm used to it. He's filthy rich too, I've never heard him fret over money or his job before. I don't think he has one either. Anyway, we balance each other out.

"Girls like that are impossible to love, trust me, Namjoon. You don't have the energy for that." He paces around my studio until he wanders off to my refrigerator, most possibly for a beer.

What is this nonsense? I turn from my desk chair to look at him with a scowl, "Who said anything about loving her?"

He opens the can of Heineken and takes a sip out of it before responding enthusiastically, "You since I came here because you can't keep her out of your mouth. You because I haven't heard you talk about a female so much since high school. You when you even breathe, man, you're not fooling anyone. Not me at least."

Hoseok plops onto my bed, leg crossed over the other, "You didn't even talk about your ex that much. See, I can't even remember her name. 'You know why?"

I didn't bother to reply, he can talk for hours without anyone responding to him. It's the only possible way to get him to sleep at night. He's got too much energy for someone that's gone past puberty. I worry about him sometimes, it could all just be a front. Maybe he's actually crumbling on the inside, like the rest of us.

"Because you only talked about her twice! Once when you two got together, and once when you broke up. I'm pretty sure that was more than two sentences when you were talking about this 'Nami' back there."

The best I could give him was a shake of my head, I had nothing to respond to him with. He was right, I don't love her, but I can see myself liking her—a lot.

Hoseok's right about a lot of things. Nami is easy to like, but probably hard to live with. She seems a little reckless, yet also restricts herself in a lot of things. Nami looks like she could be really sweet too, but she's honestly just confusing most of the time. The perfect example would be the occurrence of last night and this morning. Yet it doesn't make me want to stay away from her.

I look to my bed, where Hoseok was sitting on. I wonder if he would still sit there if he knew what happened. A chuckle escapes my lips and he catches it, "What?"

He looks so clueless. I tell him it's nothing while he repeats the same word of question. I leave my poor friend with a small hint, eyes darting to the sheets.

Hoseok seemed to have caught on when he finally stood up speedily, then faking a gag, "Disgusting, Namjoon! Absolutely disgusting!" He yelled as if he wasn't the most sexually active man of this nation.

I voice out my thoughts as I spin around my chair to face him properly, "You have sex seven times a week, you're really not one to talk."

"Yes," He sets the can of beer down onto my desk, then crosses his arms, "But that's already an image I've established for myself. You have sex zero times a week, nobody walks into your house thinking that's happened on your bed before."

What is he on about? "So what's your point, that I should have a warning sign on my bed frame? Should I let everybody know that I've had sex recently before they enter?" We both knew this was utter nonsense, nobody visits me but him. He and Nami now, apparently.

"No," Hoseok sighs and takes a sip of the beer and raises it, as if to make a toast, "My point is, congratulations."

Jesus, he's unbearable. A smirk dances on my lips as I reach to drink out of his beer can. I place it back on the table after a sip.

"Are you guys going to be a thing?"

I slump down the chair with a shrug, "I don't know. She doesn't seem to be interested in me that way. I don't think she's into dating."

Hoseok then nods understandingly and tries to comfort me, saying that there were many people like that in this generation. He didn't need to tell me, he himself was physical proof of that. And I have no problem with it, some people find it easier to get by with that type of lifestyle. It just sucks when you're the one falling for someone like that.

But maybe that's just what I need, a kind of electric-shock to shake me out of this coma of a life.

Someone that can make me feel everything at once.

Someone like Nami.