Homemade

"Why did she die?"

"She was already ill…and she was old. I guess it was time."

"Don't say that."

I took his hands out of the jacket and held them in an attempt to comfort him.

I couldn't look him in the eyes anymore, however.

I should've figured something was up. I should've acted nicer. Shit… I am horrible.

"I am sorry," I whispered.

"Again, it's not your fault."

"I know, but I should've been there to help. I should've… been with you at the funeral or something."

"I know you would if I would've invited you but who wants to go to a funeral?" He asked with an exhausted brief chuckle.

"I do!"

"Stop lying." He tried to pull his hands away, but I didn't let him.

"If someone whom I loved had died, wouldn't you have wanted to go to the funeral with me?"

He sighed and admitted, "Probably."

"Are you sure you wouldn't have lied and only said it to make me feel better?"

"No. I guess I didn't think about it like that…"

"Think about it like that. If you would want to do it for me then I would want to do it for you."

"I don't think that applies to everything."

"It does."

"No, trust me, it doesn't." He appeared genuinely amused as if he was referring to something specific, but I was afraid to ask and my mind drew a blank when he embraced me immediately after.

It was as if the warmest blanket had covered me.

"What wouldn't it apply to?" I tried to make myself heard but the sound of my voice was small and muffled by his arms and clothes.

"Shh."

We stood like that for a long, long time.

He walked me home. I was a bit scared that my brother might be upstairs near a window or worse, on his way home, but I still hugged him right before I went in.

I texted him a few times to see if he was alright and although his 'I'm fine' act couldn't fool me, he kept reassuring me of his well-being.

Three days later, I found myself all alone eating a cold store-bought, pre-made meal from the market when he texted me again;

"What are you doing?"

"I'm eating."

"What?"

I sent him a picture.

"That looks tragic."

"Thanks."

"Come here."

He sent me a picture of a homemade veal stew that was still on the stove and mashed potatoes that looked as soft as clouds.

I pushed the plastic tray and fork away from me as if it just occurred to me that it was expired.

"Do you like tomatoes?"

"Yes."

"Cucumbers."

"Yes, why?"

"I'm making a salad as well."

"I'm coming over."

I got up and changed my clothes in a heartbeat and stopped in the doorway when my phone beeped again.

"I know. I just told you to come over."

I frowned at his demanding self that seemed to have been born right after his grandmother died.

He no longer asked for a pencil. He demanded it. He no longer asked people to move, but he told them to get out of his way and since they were all scaredy-cats, he had them all obeying without any questions asked.

He was acting tough before too but now, considering he's always in a foul mood, I guess he's no longer sugarcoating it.

I dropped my phone in the almost empty backpack when I realized why I hadn't left.

The box. I got it and locked the empty apartment that my parents paid for both me and my brother to live in. The one that we both left every chance we had.

It was cold, so I walked quickly and kept looking back since I felt like someone or something was watching me.

It must be the weed. I am getting paranoid again. That is what I told myself right before I started springing.

I knocked on his door loudly with the delicious smell coming through the opened window as my intrinsic motivation.

"Come… in."

I walked past him, threw my jacket and backpack to the floor, and walked straight to the stove with big steps.

I lifted the lid and stuck my head in.

Instant, free serotonin.

"It's not ready yet."

He picked me up and dropped me a few steps to the right. He started stirring while I tried to get as close to the smell as possible.

"You're hungry, huh? Didn't your brother feed you at all today?"

"He went back to his girlfriend."

"Already? That was fast."

"It's fine. I'm used to it."

"Go sit down."

"Aw, why? I want to sit here and enjoy the wonderful…"

"It needs to simmer for one hour and a half in total, it's only been one hour…"

"But… why?" I whined with no shame.

"Go sit down."

I noticed the expressionless, mildly annoyed face and decided that I shouldn't push my luck.

I passed by the rolling futon in the middle of the hallway that I hadn't noticed before.

Should I ask?

Then I realized he must've been sleeping in front of his grandmother's room. As if it was cursed. Though in a way, I guess it was.

"My…"

Coat. was what I was about to say when I spotted it on the hanger and then I looked to my left and saw my backpack by the table.

"What?"

"Nothing."

I sat on the floor on the left side of the low, squared wooden table and got my box wide open on its surface.

Namjoon came with a bowl of salad and placed it in the middle.

"If you're going to smoke, open the door."

I slid it open while I was still sitting down and returned to rolling. Pretty soon I was smoking while the sound of the stew cooking and him cutting something made me smile.

It's almost…cozy.

After the outside was blurry enough that I could barely see, I got up and walked by his side.

"Do you need any help?"

"Not really."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Get the plates and utensils."

"From where?"

"First drawer to my right."

I opened it, and a page was on top of it.

"What's this?"

It looks like it's hospital-related.

I didn't get to read a word since he snatched it as soon as my eyes focused on it.

He walked to the room where he and his grandma used to sleep, opened the door, threw the paper in, and then closed it again.

Well, it looks like he's doing...great...

He walked right back and continued to chop some green onions.

Should I ask?

The dark cloud that seemed to surrender him on all sides made me decide against it.

I simply laid the table, and then he handed me the bowl of mashed potatoes without another word.

"Tell me if it needs salt."

He got some on a spoon and fed it to me while I was still holding the bowl. It was so fast that he almost hit my teeth since I barely had time to open my mouth.

"No. It's good. Real good. You should be a cook."

"No, thanks."

"Why not?"

"I told you I'm not good, I just know how to cook some dishes well."

"Oh. It's great though."

"Thanks. Don't eat it until everything's done through."

"But...why?" I whined for the second time.

When I returned empty-handed, he was pouring some red wine into a cup.

"Namjoon…?"

"Yeah?"

"I am already high."

"It's not for you."

"Oh, okay, but…"

I watched him have a shot with a full cup of red wine.

"Get me a big bowl…"

"Where…"

"Above your head."

"Namjoon…?"

He started pouring himself a second cup.

I was staring at the empty bowl in my hands when his hand touched mine before he took it from me.

It didn't seem like it was intentional.

"What?"

He was stirring the liquid inside the pot and tasting the meat.

"You look sad," I muttered under my breath.

He started transferring the stew from the pot to the bowl.

"I mean, you should be, but I don't enjoy seeing you this way…"

"I'm sorry if I'm ruining your mood."

"That's not what I meant."

He simply walked away with the steaming food and the cup of wine. I followed him with my head down and my stomach rumbling.

He sat on the right side of the table and started transferring the food onto the plates. I remained standing while crumbling my shirt.

"Sit."

"What I meant was that…"

He looked up and our eyes finally met after days. The exhaustion, sadness, and coldness emanated from him while I felt like I was about to cry.

"I know what you meant. It's just…"

He sighed and opened the sliding door completely as if he had no air.

"I'm here. If I can help. If you want to talk about anything. Or if you simply want to distract yourself and you don't want to do it alone. Or anything…"

"You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do."

"Trust me. You mean most things. Anyway, sit down. How's the meat?"

I tasted it and I felt like I hadn't tasted a stew so good in forever.

"Wow. How is it so tender? How?"

"I wouldn't know. I suck at cooking, but I can do this."

"How come?"

"My grandma taught me how...step by step. Good thing I wrote it down or else I wouldn't have remembered it."

"Oh…"

The smile from my lips faded.

I didn't dare look at him but I couldn't stop eyeing the empty cup from his side.

"Have some salad too."

"I think I will have some wine as well."

I got up but he grabbed my blouse and pulled me back down.

"No. You won't. You're already high."

I continued to eat in the night's silence and the song of the crickets. And Namjoon repeatedly refilled the coffee cup with wine after drinking it like a whiskey shot.

When we finished eating, he casually asked;

"Do you want to watch some TV?"

"Sure."

Got up and walked into his grandmother's bedroom like it was nothing.

He's drunk. Was my silent conclusion before running after him.

The room was dusty at best and he was unplugging the TV that was in front of a big, still unmade futon.

"Let me help…"

I barely set foot inside when I heard him demanding:

"Don't come in."

I took my step back and remained barefoot on the smaller futon from the hallway.

I watched him pull the TV and the small wooden table it was on all by himself to the door. Watching him lift both of them up and drop them softly in front of the table. He shut the door immediately after.

We watched an action movie that was already on and I fell asleep with my head on the table and woke up on his futon. And in his arms.

Is he… Am I… being spooned?

I tried moving, but it was simply impossible.

The smell of alcohol hit my face every time he breathed.

What time is it?

I glanced at the window of the kitchen, only to see that the sun was barely rising.

I can sleep a few more hours...Can't I? Today is...No. Up. We have school!

I tore myself away from his arms and ran to my phone.

Out of battery. I have my charger, but I forgot to plug it in…

Then I grabbed his phone and saw a few unread messages:

Answer me? There's the trouble? Call me as soon as you see this, huh? It's from a guy named Fred? We don't have any classmates named Fred, right?

I read it twice just to make sure I wasn't seeing things. Then the clock hit me like a slap.

It's 7 AM!

I left the phone exactly where it previously was and resisted the urge to pry any further and instead fled to Namjoon's side and tapped his shoulder repeatedly.

"Namjoon! It's 7! We have to leave in thirty minutes! You need to shower! You reek and…"

He grabbed my arm, pulled me towards him, and continued to spoon me as if I haven't said a word.

"It's 7! Didn't you hear me?! It's…"

"I'm not going."

"Why?"

"I don't want to."

I breathed in and out and before I could make up a good enough reason to argue, I saw the empty bottle on the counter and bit my lip.

"Ok."

"You can go if you want."

"No. I don't want to go either."

"You should go."

"It's just one day."

"Mm…"

I closed my eyes and fell asleep in the same position in which we woke up.

We spent the rest of the day eating garbage, playing chess, and doing homework. He wasn't exactly cheery, and I didn't manage to gain even the smallest smile. Then he started drinking as soon as the sun went down.

"How many more bottles do you have?"

"Eight."

"That's…healthy."

We did the same thing the following day and only went to school on Friday since it was also club day and my turn to pick the movie.

I didn't bring up his drinking since I was in no position to judge him. I've been smoking daily for years, but the fact that he could drink and yet remain seemingly normal was astonishing to me.

What surprised me most was that besides touching me once in a while by mistake and cuddling with me when we were asleep, he didn't try to do anything else.

I kind of liked it. In other ways, his breath tickling my ears and his groin touching my backside when we slept didn't help me banish dirty thoughts from my mind completely.

No one asked why we missed the same days and returned at the same time. After all, no one usually went near him or I.

On our way to the club, he suddenly told me that he couldn't come.

"Why not?"

"I have some things I need to take care of."

Is it about Fred?

"See you."

"See… you," I whispered, watching him leave without giving me a chance to ask further questions.

I headed to the roof instead of the clubroom and smoked past my limit. I didn't realize it until I was coughing and my eyes were welling up. I must've looked like I'd been crying since Sony gave me concerned stares from the moment I walked in while Bora straight-out confronted me about it.

"I ate something and it got stuck in my throat. I coughed so hard that my eyes got all red and…" I looked at her face but she didn't seem to buy it. "I mean it. It's because I was coughing too hard."

"If you say so."

"Where's Namjoon?" Yeong Cheol inquired.

"He had some stuff he needed to do."

"He promised he'll help me study but he's always too busy to come or when he does, he's either too worried about something to pay attention to anything or he's too tired…" Kwan complained and something inside of me wanted to say; I'll help you. but then again, the room looked as if there was a fire in the corner and the smoke was burning only my eyes.

I watched them playing cards and judging by the score they were finishing games at record speed. Meanwhile, I was behind an invisible wall and in my timeline, everything moved painfully slowly.

"Do you want to play?"

"Sure."

Why the hell did I say that?!

I received some cards and although I knew the game, my high brain wasn't able to decide, stick to it or make sense of it. So, when it was my turn, I just stood there frozen while everyone else was staring at me.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

I looked at the cards with all the attention I could muster, but they got blurrier by the second and the numbers and letters started blending into one another.

I looked up at their faces, and I wished I didn't.

I am not stupid. I am just high! I wanted to scream this sentence, but that would give birth to other questions, so I simply placed the cards down. Feeling cold sweat gathering on my forehead from the intense concentration and stress I just caused myself by simply accepting to play the simplest of games.

"How about we start watching the movie instead?" I suggested.

"Sure, if that's what you…" Bora started with an overly cheerful voice. Probably trying to make me feel better.

I was busy searching inside my backpack, and I resisted the urge to cry from the sheer embarrassment and panic that they might've realized something was seriously wrong.

And my eyes are red too. Why do I always forget the eye drops? Why?!

"Jungkook?"

"What?"

"Do you want some Cola?" Sony asked.

Yeah, that's exactly what I need. Caffeine!

"How about some tea? Bora bought that bottled peach tea that you said you liked." Kwan proposed when I didn't reply.

"Oh, yea. Sure."

Bora was already on my left, so I didn't look behind me until I got the CD out of the bag to meet three pairs of eyes that were already locked on me.

Sony got up, took it, and put it in the DVD player while the rest looked away at once.

We all sat in front of the screen, sipping juice and commenting on the movie as if nothing had happened. I, however, couldn't forget about it and felt like my chest was slowly getting ripped in half.

"That guy is the worst. I mean, why won't he just stay put?" Sony protested.

"Ah, because he's cool," Bora argued for the antagonist.

"He's not cool. He's hurt because of his past…" Kwan went into psychoanalyzing him while she snacked on popcorn, simultaneously breaking our only rule.

"It doesn't matter. He should do something else rather than hurt other people that are close to him! He's using his trauma to traumatize other people and we should feel sorry for him?" Yeong Cheol angrily explained his view.

It's the fault of both the bad guy and the ones who got traumatized by him. By staying, aren't they just enabling it? Well, they're also scared to leave though…'

I thought, yet said nothing.

They don't understand. Namjoon does… Namjoon knows…I thought when I could barely lift my hand to look at my phone.

"Where are you?" I texted.

And when the movie was over two hours later, he still didn't read it.

AN: This chapter was edited by jooniekingg.