Someplace Like Home |n.j

13.

My head is no longer on his skin, and instead against the damp grass. It was stupid, leaning into him like that, but it was what I wanted to do that right then. And like always, Namjoon didn't mind. He never minds.

I wanted to lean on someone's shoulder—his—even if it was just for a little while. So I asked him to come over. I was already at the park by then. I knew he'd be silent in a time like this, he wouldn't try to fill in the gaps, he wouldn't try to say anything that he didn't mean. That and I don't have anyone else to reach here in Korea, or anywhere really.

I don't have anyone.

It's what I've always wanted.

Yet I found myself shamelessly calling upon someone I couldn't even call my friend, just to cry silently on his shoulder over the same exact thing.

I don't even know what we are. I have a lot of things to feel guilty for, things that he won't ever know. Namjoon doesn't know why I had sex with him on our first night. It was a rational decision, I only got myself drunk to make sure I wouldn't back out on it. But he can't ever know why. He can't ever question it, or ask me about it. Because if I say it out loud, it will make it true. And it'll mean that I know too.

Sometimes it's better not knowing certain things about yourself. Or to admit them.

A grunt triggers me to turn my head. Namjoon sits up from behind me and adjusts to the sunlight with a blink of eyes, "I fell asleep."

I catch the little patch of wet tears on the side of his sleeve. I hope he doesn't notice that before it dries, "Yeah. I must have been too boring. Sorry about that."

Namjoon must've seen something in my eyes when he spoke without looking away from them.

"Are you okay?"

Why did that simple line twist my heart the way it did?
Maybe because I know the answer to that question, and it's not the one I want. I've been ridiculous. I woke up today with a lump in my throat. I was destined to cry today. My whole morning built up to that moment.

But I waited, I waited until it wasn't too early to call him and asked him to come over. So I could cry in front of him. It didn't even matter that he didn't notice, I didn't need him to. I just wanted to cry with someone next to me. I wanted someone to be there as I did.

And even if I say that it's because I know no one else, I wanted it to be him.

Like I needed it to be him. I've never run to someone so urgently before. Really, never.

He's changing me. I don't know if I like that or not.

I look down, avoiding his gaze that suddenly seemed to melt me the more I looked back at it, "I'm okay. Who was the friend that I met at the bar that day? His name was Hoseok, I think?"

I change the subject. I already cried, there's no more reason to keep dwelling on it. I will allow myself to cry once in a while, but I will never throw away any more time of my days thinking about it.

"He's someone close to me. The only person that's close to me really, I don't really have a social life."

Every single decision I've made since I became an adult was so I could be away from it. Spending my time acknowledging it would be a waste of all my efforts.

"What did he talk to you about? Hoseok's mouth is full of trash, I hope you didn't take anything he said too seriously."

But am I not living for it in a way? Since everything I've done in my life was in order to avoid it? What am I without it? Or am I really just a hollow shell pretending to be something I'm not?

The same familiar weight on my chest returns.

Enough.

I can't let my brain continue to be infected with something so disgusting and distasteful. That's enough fooling around. I shut it out completely this time, pulling myself back to the reality I've built for myself,
"He was nice. A little overwhelming, but nice."

Hoseok was on a quest when he chatted with me that night, it seemed like. He had a lot of questions, mostly regarding Namjoon and my life in Ilsan. I guess my accent is still apparent, since both of these men had figured out I wasn't a native quite easily. I probably still make some mindless grammar mistakes too, but I can never catch them reacting like I have. I still think in Japanese, but the last time I spoke it was when Yua confronted me.

I have no business contacting anyone from Japan anyway.

"He didn't make you uncomfortable did he? I've known him for years, he still makes me uncomfortable."

I shake my head, then finally turn to look at him. His lips look extra plump today, or did I mean kissable? Namjoon always looks more beautiful around nature. I push away the thought, "Then why are you friends with him?"

Our eyes meet right then, and I once again catch myself lost in the delicate corners of his eyelids and the jewel-like brown orbs that somehow always reminded me of winter.

"I guess I like it, how bizarre he is. He doesn't really fit in my lifestyle, but I think that's what I've always wanted...something different. So Hoseok is really what balances my life in a way. Things aren't as dull when he's around."

How do you rely on someone so much? So much as to give them the power to control how they feel about their own lives? I shouldn't judge. I'm in no place to talk.

I began wondering what Namjoon meant to this current life I have. It's been a few weeks since he's started showing up in my life. No, that's wrong. He didn't come into my life, I went into his, willingly, and that's what's different.

I actually catch myself thinking about him sometimes. The silver of his hair, the warmth of his palm on my skin, the adam's apple that always seemed to move at the sight of me. I like it. I like it all.

I wish I could stop everything, the twitch of my smiles that actually started showing recently, the awakening of the butterflies in my stomach, the constant thoughts of him bouncing around my mind, even when he's not around. I wish I could stop it all, but even if I could, I know I wouldn't.

I like him more than I hate liking him.

And that says...a lot.

"Nami?"

I remember when he had kissed me in my studio. And it was all he did. He held my cheek so gently as he placed his lips on mine. I still remember every detail so thoroughly, it's stored in my mind, always ready to be replayed. All he wanted was a kiss, a simple kiss. There was no hint of lust, it was so pure and innocent.

But something so simple had made things complicated. What does that make of us? It's all I could think about in the bathroom that day, as I smoked the nerves away.

But I liked it.

Putting everything aside, it made me feel wanted, even more so than when he would drill himself into me in bed, even when I knew I was the one that could bring him such pleasure. He would moan out that he wanted me, but strangely, a touch of lips had told me more than what those words could.

A simple kiss had meant more than all of the fucking.

I look to Namjoon, who had the unfaltering look of confusion on his face. A side of my lip lifts up. He has no idea what was to come. Oh just how naive and adorable he was right now.

I scooted myself closer to where he sat, hands already placed flat down.

I lean in and take the time to watch his face morph into one of panic.

And I kiss him.