Namjoon: 2 May Year 18

I was cutting through the alleyway when I saw our furniture and other household items piled up in my path. “Namjoon, what happened here?” my father asked, exhaling dryly. I was taking him back from the hospital. It was about 100 meters from our house to the bus station, but even that was too much for him. I ran back to the house. My mother, crouched alongside the wall behind the furniture, looked at me and stood up. “Namjoon, what should we do?” She told me about how she got into a fight with the landlord’s son because my brother was late with the rent money.  

 

I took my father to the warehouse behind the supermarket. I moved the furniture while my mother took care of the dishes and food. Two room’s worth of furniture was stacked up in layers inside the warehouse. There were things we wanted to throw away, but you need money for that. By the time we were finished moving, it was night. My lower back hurt and I was sweating. My mother handed me some chopsticks and told me to eat something, but I didn’t eat anything. 

 

It was stuffy inside the warehouse, so I sat on a wooden bench outside of the supermarket. “Namjoon, where did your brother go?” I shouted back, “How would I know?” Namjoon. Namjoon. Namjoon. I was sick of it. I regretted telling my brother to stop being so down and go live his life. Even if we stuck it out in the warehouse for the next few days, what would we do after that? I couldn’t think of anything. The older man who owned the supermarket left me a can of beer and went back inside.

 

@shootinghearts_

 

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