He failed his classes that semester, and retook his senior year, with glares sent his way, whispers flowing freely under people's breath. Nobody glanced at the man who always wore the same white t-shirts, who refused to open himself up to anyone, always choosing to sit at the back of the classroom. No one knew that his mother died of a heart attack, and quite frankly, no one cared. His part-time job after school made things much more difficult, yet he went about unaware of his fatigue. One day, out of sheer exhaustion after a particularly long day, he decided to visit the soup kitchen again before going to the painfully empty car, with his mom's phantom voice whispering into his ear. Wearily, he took his place in line for the first time, not far off from the counter, as it was nine o'clock, and hardly anyone ate dinner at that time. And came face to face with a woman who must have been his mother's re incarceration.
She gave him the exact, weary, yet pure smile he had missed so dearly, an expression of fondness filling her features. Lost in his thoughts, he sees her lips moving and snaps out of it.
"Sorry mam, what did you say?" A soft giggle escapes her lips.
"I asked, where were you? You always used to hide over at that table in the corner, scribbling away in that journal of yours, and I haven't seen you in ages. And don't call me mam, I'm not that much older! Though I probably am your noona. My name's Laila." Wow, he thought, she even has her eye smile. Her eyes were cleaner than diamonds, sparkling with purity unmatched by no other, crinkled up at the corners in a way to make her joy contagious and pass on to whoever they make contact with. With a start, he realized that he spaced out. Again.
"Hi, I'm Jungkook." He takes a bit to remember what she had asked him, his brain processing her voice slower than a slug. This was the first time he had talked to anyone after his mother's passing, other than the formal conversations with his teachers, and the counselor offering her services with the most bright, fake attitude he had ever witnessed.
"Uhh... I have been really busy lately."
"How so?" she asks while spooning something onto a paper plate, steam fogging up her glasses.
"Mom's passing just left a bunch of responsibilities on me." He lets out without thinking.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry." She gives him a sad smile,
"At least she's in a better place." And for the first time since that dreadful day, the corners of his lips turned up into an upwards crescent, hurting his cheeks due to the muscles forgetting how to move into a grin.
"Yeah, she definitely is."
"Have a wonderful night! You ever need any help, come talk to me, yeah? You know where to find me." She hands over a plate filled with chili beans and rice, the delicious smell making his mouth water. This was the closest thing he had to a homecooked meal in seemingly forever. His eyes softening, he takes the plate and directs his gaze back up to her.
"Thank you." He said, tired eyes silently communicating the extent of his gratitude towards her, displaying the evident release of a burden he silently carried with him wherever he went. She lifted off the feeling of solitude from his life, his greatest fear.
"Anytime" she responds, eyes filled with empathy as he made his way to his table like usual yet holding food instead of his journal.
As he closed his eyes, sleep washed over him faster than a gust of wind. He was comforted with the knowledge that had found something to write about once more. Or rather, someone.