Someplace Like Home |n.j

16.

"Who is this lady, Namjoon?"

Fuck.

"Uh-" I stutter, turning to her, in hopes that Nami could somehow save me from this situation. Her eyes were just as lost as mine.

"She's a friend." I finally concluded, "We were having lunch together when you called."

My mother didn't look pleased when she continued to eye her up and down, "What is your name?"

Maybe bringing Nami here wasn't a good idea. Now I've put her in this situation, and she obviously doesn't have any intention of knowing my family. But now she's meeting my mother out of the two, as unlucky as she is. My parents should've switched places.

"Nami." She responded firmly with no intention of sounding easy or obedient. Just as I expected from her. I knew my mother found it unpleasant when her eyebrow twitched in response.

My mother looks at me.

Yes, she's Japanese. I reply with my exhausted gaze.

I'm sure she wouldn't mind as much if we were simply friends, but the truth is that she already considers us as more than that. She thinks we're together, and to be honest, I don't really want to correct her.

"How did you meet my son?"

I thought this was about my father who just had surgery?

"I was a customer at the bar he works at."

"But he has many customers, so what was it that connected the both of you?"

Okay, this won't end well. I cut in before Nami could reply, piercing through the heavy atmosphere with a chuckle, "Ah, mother. I just realized I had something to talk to you about. But I don't think we should talk here, we might wake Father."

Seeing as my mother also had many questions to ask, she willingly abided, treading out the hospital room instantly. I stayed behind and let her wait for me.

I turn to Nami, "I'm sorry about this. Can you stay here with my Father?"

Nami seemed uncomfortable but had no complaints when she silently took the seat next to the hospital bed. I quickly exit the room to confront my mother.

She wasted no time to bombard me with questions right as I closed the door behind me, "What is going on? Why haven't I heard of this woman?"

I run a hand over my face, "I told you, we're friends."

"Why on earth would you bring a 'friend' to visit your sick father?"

"So you don't believe me."

"Oh, I sure wish to believe you," She crossed her arms, "Because if this is a thing, I don't approve."

Now that hurt.

I want to go somewhere with this relationship with Nami. Whether if Nami feels the same, I do like her, and it's not physical. My heart beats faster around her, and everything she does is lovable to me. I like her so fucking much, even if all she ever wants is to have sex, even if she runs from confrontation, even if she's so confusing and probably fucking difficult to love. She's all I think about these days, I wake up to go to work, and I go to work to see her. She's taken up my mind and my heart, I see her in everything I do. With every thought I have, I ask myself: what would Nami think? Nami this, Nami that.

I've never wanted something so much, never wanted someone so much.

All my mother has done throughout my life is tell me no. You can't do this, you can't like that. You can't pursue this, you have to give up on that.