Someplace Like Home |n.j

20.

I'm up a stump with the new project. I'm supposed to design a banner advertisement for a company, but the ideas just aren't coming through like usually. This is a simple job, nothing complex, it's not anything I've never encountered.

But six years of experience taught me that sitting before a computer is no way to gain inspiration. So I'm out of the studio and on the path to Namjoon's bar. Seeing him is always my first instinct now, it no longer matters to me what we do. If we have sex, if we sit in silence...if we chat. I like that too. It's pointless to restrict myself from him now.

I don't have much time left anyway.

My phone vibrates in my pocket just as I stopped before a red light. The ringtone pauses my music and I sigh, pulling the device out to read out the words 'unknown caller'.

I scrunch my eyebrows. I accept the call and put the speaker to my ears. I stay silent and wait for any sound from the other end. Deep down, I always knew what that 'unknown caller' meant, but why do I pick up every time?

"Nami?"

The red light turns to green but my feet stay firm on the ground. My jaw clenched along with the hand gripping onto my phone. It's rare to loathe someone so much, that just the sound of their voice, just any sign of their existence is enough to bring out the worst in you.

"Is this Nami?"

How did she find my number this time?

"I don't know who you're talking about."

"Please, Nami. Talk to me, please." Her voice starts to strain and I roll my eyes. She's going to cry soon. This will take a while. I lean my back against the concrete pole with an exhale.

Ah yes, she's crying now, her favorite tactic, "Just come home, please. We're all we have left. We only have each other, don't do this to me."

"No," My eyes catch the second green light and I take it, pushing my body from the pole. I stride down the road with my footsteps going faster as my tempter rose.

"You have yourself, and that's it. You never had my back, and I'm not asking you to have it now, so don't expect the same from me."

"Nami..."

"I'm hanging up, don't call me again, this is harassment."

"Goddamn it Nami! Don't you dare talk to me like that. I'm your goddamn mother! I swear to-"

Finally, she's talking like herself. There's the woman I know.

"This has been wonderful, goodbye." I hang up and block the number.

She never learns to stop. This happens every few months, I don't know if she's switching out her number routinely or borrowing from friends. It's kind of hilarious, now that I think back at how she called herself my mother. Some audacity.

A scoff escapes my lips.

"Spare change?"

I pause from my tracks and stop right next to the alleyway by the bar. I look down and see a man tucked tightly in his grotty blanket. My shoulders relax from its tensed state and I grin just the slightest.