NAMJOON liked reading books.

A lot, maybe too much. On weekdays like this the sun would roll onto the sky until the moon would show up and orbit around earth and Namjoon would be in a corner of his room, the window left open near his bed and a book on his hands, his eyes stuck in the pages.

It did not matter much what kind of book it was, but what Namjoon really liked was something that held a piece of some other country. A distant place, faraway place.

The cup of black coffee by his bedside table would produce plumes of vapor and he'd find himself wandering off to that different space as if he was really there, as if he was floating on the cloud of his coffee.

Some days he'd even forget to have dinner, not until he would start to feel nauseated and he would realize that he needed food. Only then would he put the book down and wander off to the kitchen.

Today wasn't an exception. It was an evening of a Sunday that felt like it came long due. Winter was only around the corner while Autumn still bloomed to its last breath.

While Namjoon would sometimes look out the window of his room and see the fallen leaves scattered here and there, he'd want to rush off to the street side where he had found a maple tree months ago, when it still rained, when Jin only had solemn expressions on.

Unlike the Jin today that he found leaning back on the kitchen counter, a black oversized hoodie on his lean body and his thumb quickly scrolling through the screen of his phone. The alpaca ring with a red scarf dangling from his phone's case did not go unnoticed by Namjoon.

"Hey," Jin looked up as Namjoon opened the refrigerator for a glass of milk.

"Hey," he could not but answer back with a smile that also danced on Jin's full lips.

"I made extra amount of curry for dinner, if you'd like some you can find it in the cabinet," Jin was again back to scrolling through his phone, his left foot up and continuously thrumming against the counter.

Namjoon wouldn't say he was the best at reading people, but when a person genuinely felt happy he could at least catch it.

The boy didn't really know what happened to Jin. There wasn't a big change on him after that talk, but he was glad to see Jin more joyful and less meticulous about his cleanliness in the dorm like before.

Muttering a thanks Namjoon trudged towards his own space in the lobby but then he saw Jungkook open the door to his room ever so slightly and squeezing himself out, his feet on the floor light, like a cat.

"God, you were in your room?" Jin shouted out making Namjoon stop. "You scared me!"

A sheepish grin made its way on to the youngster's boyish features. "I was sleeping."

"You have another package," Jin mindlessly tapped his feet on the counter. "Just who keeps sending you so many stuff? Or do you buy a lot online?"

"Both," Jungkook shrugged, not before he had sent a mischievous wink which made the eldest roll his eyes. Letting out a silent chuckle Namjoon sauntered toward his room and again he found himself on his bed, a tale of two cities in his hands.

He could not tell how many times he had read the same book since he was little but it did not matter as every time it was enjoyable, maybe not as much as the first time but still was.

A distant music hummed in the air, the aroma of coffee still lingering in the atmosphere even though the stains on his cup were long dry. There was also a smell of rusty, dried leaves, tree brunches that knocked on his lungs every time a cold breeze swished through his curtains.

"So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go"

The brunette boy had to put his book down, it rested on his lap as he ventured off to a cozy state of mind. He closed his eyes and felt himself slowly sing the next lines of John Denver's song.

"Cause I'm leavin' on a jet plane
Don't know when I'll be back again
Oh baby, I hate to go."

Until the landlord from the second floor had finally stopped the music Namjoon did not snap out of his headspace. When he was back the sky outside had taken a darker shade, but Namjoon was in a lighter mood.

Thus he finally decided to push away the nagging feeling on the bottom of his stomach that had not left for a while. Truthfully, Namjoon always looked so much in peace that no one would ever know if something was going on with him.

Not even Namjoon himself, he was always busy living in different worlds, be it books or people, like Jin who could find solace in him. His classmates, even his professor that would sometimes come to seek suggestion from him on some unspoken matter.

This was Namjoon, he knew, or, he could guess a lot about people surrounding him.

But no one knew him better.

That was okay, the brunette knew he was a bit closed off despite being so open. That was really okay because he did not have much to spare about his own life anyway.

Because everyday was so monochrome and lackluster, the book, it was only the books and the senses he'd get from enjoying them or other's stories that made everything more vivid.

He pondered again for a few seconds, not that he hadn't for days until he pressed the call button to his mom.

Maybe calling his dad would be normal for this but his mom was more of an unannounced head of the family.

"Son!" The gleeful voice of a woman recognized as Namjoon's mother shouted as soon as the dialing tone started. "I was just about to call you! Today your father was cleaning out the attic and we found baby socks of you and Jungmi, how delightful is that!"

A smile crept up to Namjoon's face as he listened to his mom, sometimes adding in his own comments too as the woman went on for hours and hours.

Calls with his mother were always the longest, even though it happened in a week or sometimes two. Perhaps that's why she had so much to talk about.

Namjoon could not find a scope to say the thing he wanted to, now that the discussion had rolled off to Namjoon's father being an 'idiot' because he had broken off an entire dinner table while trying to fix it, after his mom had finished talking about Namjoon's younger sister, Jungmi's disappointing grades.

"Mom," he finally piped in, almost incoherent but the other side went silent.

"Yes, son?" He could picture the eager smile on her face as he fumbled with the hem of his white shirt.

"I am thinking of getting my masters in the USA. I talked to the vice chairman of our major and he recommended a university in California."

He waited for her to snap out of his happy zone, and she did. After the short pause the voice came as dreary as Namjoon thought it would be. "Son, are you sure about this?"

"Yes," he replied, albeit taking more than a second to.

"Didn't you want to leave for your bachelors too? We've had this conversation before, Namjoon."

When she didn't say son and instead called him by his name, he knew the topic would die down soon. Yet he tried.

"Yeah, but I'm sure this time."

Was he really? Maybe he was. But then his mother said the same thing from four years ago. "It's not even your passion, Namjoon. You chose that major because you're good at English. It's not like, it's your dream."

It wasn't. But wasn't it okay to not to have a dream?

At least, he liked what he was doing and when he thought about going out of the country to study a bit more, it excited him.

Even though it wasn't his dream, it was close to that, or it could be.

"And what do you do when you fail in that? You fail in trying to achieve something you're not meant for? Remember that your father wanted to be a writer but he works in his own bookstore now, Namjoon."

It was the same words from before. Namjoon stayed silent.

"That is the reality, son. Just graduate from here. It's already hard enough having my oldest child living in the big city alone. When you're done with your studies you can come back here and get a job as a teacher. Wouldn't that be amazing?"

Of course, it was always better to choose something that had lesser chance of failure. Because failure was hard, it brought disappointment and could break someone or their entire family for the whole life.

The phone talk went back to previous discussions and there was no room for Namjoon to talk about it more.

When the call ended, Namjoon picked up his book again. But it had become late at night and he could not focus anymore, nor could he feel his sleep coming any time soon.

So he pulled out the drawer of his bedside table and picked up the untouched pack of Marlboros. He drew a stick out and lit it with his lighter and expert hands.

The effluvium spread about, a miasma of nicotine surrounding Namjoon like the wall he had built around himself.

He took a long drag of the cigarette as he let his body fall on the bed, his eyes darting towards the open window again, to the night sky that was pitch black like an endless abyss. No stars were around.

Namjoon checked the packet. He wasn't exactly what you would call a chain smoker, but when the walls around him got too overbearing and too heavy he would find himself smoking until there would be no cigarettes left in the packet.

Taking another drag he exhaled the puff towards the dark sky.

The smoke was as dull gray as his life.

---
A/n: it was Namjoon I CONFUSED YALL FOR NO REASON!

Haha! Well aren't ya cute