CHAPTER TWENTY—WAVING THROUGH A WINDOW
NAMJOON'S HOME in Ilsan looked to be something straight out of a lifestyle magazine. Illuminated only by the few streetlights lining the road, the house of red brick stood two stories high against a black sky speckled with stars. Perfectly trimmed trees and hedges lined the walkway, a few stray leaves scattered on the pavement.
Nouri stood still as she watched Namjoon make his way to the door. Her backpack hung from one shoulder, and she gripped the strap tightly as nerves began to settle in.
"Namjoon," she said, causing him to pause and turn around. "Do your parents know that I'm coming?"
He nodded. "Yeah, they know I'm bringing a friend. Why?"
She shifted her weight, eyeing him with hesitation. "Nothing, just—I'm still a little nervous, I guess."
"It's gonna be fine, Nouri," he assured. "Try and relax this weekend. You need it."
She watched him lift up the welcome mat in front of the door and grab a key. After watching him struggle with the lock for a minute, he pushed the door open and urged Nouri to walk in first.
Her eyes were met with a dimly lit entryway, a staircase right in front of the door beside a pile of slippers and shoes on a small shelf. From where she stood, not much of the interior was visible, but she could see a hallway that led to a bright area she assumed to be the living room.
"Eomma," Namjoon called as he stepped in behind Nouri, closing the door on his way. "Abba, Kyungmin! I'm home!"
"Namjoon-ah, is that you?" Someone called from a far room. The sound of pots or pans clashing together rang through the halls, and the scent of something sweet and chocolaty wafted through the home. "I'm in the kitchen, come here! Kyungmin, come downstairs, your brother is here!"
The two of them slid off their shoes, Namjoon grabbing a pair of light blue slippers with red crabs printed on them and putting them on. Nouri couldn't help but smile a bit as she set her shoes neatly on the shelf.
"You can leave your bag on the bottom step," Namjoon said as he set his own suitcase down. "We'll carry them up in a minute."
After doing so, she hesitantly walked behind Namjoon, keeping close to him, allowing his slightly taller frame hide hers as best she could. It didn't really work well as she was only an inch or so shorter than him, but she couldn't help but try. Her nerves had clawed their way through her chest, up into her throat, spreading across her face in a flush of color. She didn't know why the thought of meeting Namjoon's family was so intimidating to her.
They tread through the hallway, through a large, open living room with a sectional sofa and a couple of reclining chairs, a television setting on a stand, a bookcase in the corner. A diffuser was on, but Nouri couldn't pick out which oil was in it due to the delicious, yet overwhelming smell of something baking.
The living room had a large entry way that opened right up into the kitchen and dining room. The yellow light reflected off of the wood floors, a candle burned on the counter, and leaning down in front of the oven, pressing a button rather aggressively, was a small woman with salt and pepper hair tied back behind her head, a red apron tied around her waist.
"Eomma," Namjoon said, a bright smile pulling at the corners of his lips, dimples creasing.
The woman—Namjoon's mother—quickly stood and turned, a dimpled smile of her own beaming across her face.
"Ah, there's my son!" She rushed forward and gave him a quick hug, quickly pulling away and cupping his face in her hands. "How was your trip? Did everything go smoothly? Did you have a chance to eat dinner?"
"Slow down, eomma."
"Oh, and where's Yoongi? You brought him right? That boy's too skinny every time he comes to visit, I'm making some cookies for him right now—"
Her eyes caught onto Nouri's just at that moment, who was catiously peeking from behind Namjoon's shoulder, and her voice went silent. Nouri felt her heart pound—would she be disappointed? Had Namjoon lied and told her that Yoongi was the friend he was bringing?
"Actually, Yoongi's not the friend I brought this time," Namjoon explained. He glanced at Nouri, gently nodding in encouragement. She gulped and stepped out from behind him.
"Eomma, this is my friend Nouri." Right after he said this, Nouri bowed.
"It's so great to meet you, Mrs. Kim," she said when she had straightened back up. "I hope I'm not intruding on you or your family."
Mrs. Kim's look of confusion quickly morphed to ecstasy as her smile once again returned. She reached out and took Nouri's hand in both of hers, shaking her head. "No, you're not intruding at all! This is perfect—Namjoon isn't the best at making new friends, you see, especially not with girls—"
"Eomma," Namjoon cut her off, his ears flushing red. Nouri bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, but couldn't help the grin that played across her lips. Namjoon made eye contact with her, and some of the tension eased away from his posture and he smiled a little as well.
"Oh, sorry," Mrs Kim said, squeezing Nouri's hand once before letting go. "Well, I might have been making these cookies for Yoongi, but both of you are also too skinny! Go put your stuff away then come back and eat! Nouri, Namjoon will show you to the guest room. Make yourself at home."
"Alright," Namjoon agreed with a grin. "But where are abba and Kyungmin?"
"Your father had to stay late at work," Mrs. Kim explained. "Some kind of staff meeting at the school. You know how it is—he'll be here soon. Kyungmin was supposed to come downstairs, I'm not sure what she's doing. Tell her to come down for cookies when you see her."
Namjoon agreed before leading Nouri back down the hallway, his hand on the small of her back.
"See, that went really well. Don't you think?" He asked her.
She nodded, already feeling the tension melt away. "Your mom's really sweet."
He scratched the back of his head. "Yeah . . . and a bit overbearing. But mostly sweet. Definitely not as laid back as your mom, that's for sure."
She slumped at the mention of her mother, the atmosphere dimming, just a touch. Namjoon must have sensed the change, because he said nothing else about it.
After grabbing their bags, the pair trekked up the wide staircase and were soon in the upstairs hallway, where there were four doors along the walls, as well as a folding-door closet.
"This one's my room," He said, pushing open a cracked door. Nouri glanced inside to see dark blue walls, a NASA star chart pinned on the wall and glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling, gray sheets, a radio, a collection of teddy bears piled on a cushioned chair in the corner of the room beside of a dresser.
"Cute bears." Nouri grinned as Namjoon tossed his suitcase to the floor.
"Hey, don't mock the bears," he said in a jokingly stern voice. "You're never too old for stuffed bears. Besides, my mom won't let me clean out the room, so they have to stay."
"Yeah, I'm sure that's the only reason you've kept them," she teased as he walked back out of his room.
"You're a true comedian. You could go on a stand up comedy tour with Yoongi and call it 'How Many Insults Thrown At Namjoon Can Be Turned Into Jokes: The Series.'"
Nouri laughed and was about to clap back when the door across from them creaked open. A girl's head poked out, dark bangs brushing her brows, eyes squinted as she observed the pair standing in the hall.
"Oh look, it's the hipster," she stated, eyes then flicking from Namjoon to Nouri. "And a woman. Well, this is shocking."
Nouri didn't know if she should've laughed or taken a step back in fear. She assumed that this was Kyungmin, Namjoon's younger sister. She had a calculating stare that seemed to be taking in all the information it could as she gave Nouri a once over.
"Kyungmin, why would you say something like that?" Namjoon asked. He didn't look shocked, or annoyed—his expression one of disappointment, but not surprise.
"You know me, dear brother of mine—I just say what comes to mind." She stepped out of her room, revealing the bag of popcorn she held in her hands. She tossed a piece into her mouth and nodded at Nouri. "Sorry. Didn't mean to offend you."
"Oh, you didn't. I'm Nouri, by the way."
"Kyungmin. So tell me Nouri, how much did Namjoon pay you to get you to come here with him?"
"Kyungmin!" Namjoon scolded, his eyes wide and face red.
Nouri was silent before she burst into laughter. Namjoon, mortified, turned his gaze to her. "Why are you laughing?"
"She's funny," Nouri said with a smile when she had caught her breath once more.
It may have been her imagination, but Nouri thought she saw a small smile on Kyungmin's stoic face for a trace of a moment. "Your girl's got a sense of humor. I like it."
"We're just friends," Nouri and Namjoon said at the same time.
Kyungmin raised an eyebrow. "I didn't say you weren't . . . but now I definitely don't believe you."
The sound of something sizzling and popping came from Kyungmin's room. Namjoon and Nouri both flinched in shock, but Kyungmin stood still and remained expressionless as she said, "Excuse me. There's something I need to take care of." She then disappeared back into her room, closing the door behind her.
"What's going on in there?" Nouri whispered after standing in stunned silence for a second.
"It's best to not ask questions," Namjoon whispered back. "She's really into science and does these weird experiments she finds online. It's usually not safe."
"Oh. And how old is she?"
"Seventeen, but she's got the soul of an old man who never outgrew his love for the science fair."
It was an odd yet accurate comparison. Namjoon cleared his throat. "Sorry about that, Kyungmin is an . . . interesting character. Anyways, the guest room is just down here," he said, walking towards the door at the end of the hall.
When the door was open, Nouri stepped inside and was met with another picture-perfect setting; crisp white bedding, clean white curtains, a well dusted, polished dresser, a small nightstand with a yellow lamp and an alarm clock.
"Do you like it?" He asked her, the nerves evident in his voice.
"Yeah, it's perfect," she assured him, turning so they stood face to face. "Thanks again, for letting me come with you. And for the bus . . ." her sentence trailed off, and she let her eyes wander the room. Flooding her mind were the memories of Namjoon's hand slowly covering hers, holding it tight. The way he let her cry quietly on his shoulder, no questions, just silence and acceptance. She was more than grateful—she just had a difficult time trying to express it.
"Anytime, Nouri." Gentle, like the soft breeze on the sea, his voice calmed her anxious thoughts once again. Allowing her eyes to find their way back to his, she had the urge to reach forward and wrap her arms around him, to hold him close. To thank him, for everything, with more than just futile words.
Yet, she couldn't.
Something was there in the depths of her mind; tugging, resisting.
She couldn't.
"I think I'm going to change, if that's okay." Her voice was barely audible, but Namjoon heard.
"Oh, uh, yeah of course. Just come downstairs when you're ready—eomma will want to hear from you."
"Sure."
Once alone, Nouri locked the bedroom door and began to pull some sweats out of her backpack, along with a tee shirt. When she took her phone out of her back pocket, she saw that her screen was flooded with messages and missed calls from her parents. There were some from Tashay and Chris as well—even Yoongi had given her a call.
Calling her parents back would probably have been the right thing to do, but she wasn't ready to talk to them. So she clicked Chris' name instead.
He picked up right away. "Kid?"
"Hey—"
"Where are you? Your mom is near hysterics—she says you just packed up and bolted. Nobody's heard from you in hours; you know that everyone is on edge with the kidnappings."
"I know, and I'm sorry. But I'm fine—I'm with Namjoon."
"Why did you leave? You have everyone worried sick. Your mom even got a hold of that cop friend of yours—Yoonji or something."
"Yoongi," Nouri corrected. "And seriously, I'm sorry for not even texting. Just tell her and dad that I'm safe, alright?"
"And why can't you tell them that yourself?"
"I . . . I don't think I can talk to either of them right now."
There was silence on his end of the call. Then a sigh. "Alright. I'll let them know."
"Thank you."
"But listen—I don't know what happened between you three, but don't go for too long without talking to them. Trust me, when you're lucky enough to have parents that care as much as yours do, the last thing you wanna do is throw them away. Got it?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Stay safe, kid. Keep in touch."
After ending the call, she tossed her phone to the bed and allowed her head to lean back against the door.
It was easy for Chris to tell her to make up with her parents. He had no clue what had happened—he didn't know what she was feeling.
Resentment.
Anger.
Guilt.
Fear.
She didn't want to talk to them. Making up wasn't an option for her.
Making up meant facing the truth—that her parents weren't completely wrong in what they had said about her.
She walked forward, grabbed her phone, and muted her parent's contacts.
Facing the truth was too difficult. It was much easier to turn a blind eye—to chase something else. Something that would take her far away from confronting what she feared the most—the reality of herself.
-
"Does Nouri like coffee, Namjoon?"
Glancing up from his bowl of cereal, a dribble of milk slipped from the corner of his lips. Wiping it with the back of his hand, he nodded in response to his mother's question.
"When am I going to meet this Nouri person anyways?" His father, leaning against the kitchen counter with his own cup of coffee in his hand asked this question with a curious glint in his eyes.
"When she wakes up I guess," Namjoon mumbled sleepily.
"Hopefully that's after you've changed out of your pajamas," his mother said with a glance of disapproval in her son's direction.
Namjoon, somewhat self consciously, glanced down at his blue plaid pajama pants and frowned deeply before returning to his cereal.
"I'm serious Namjoon-ah," she pressed, starting to brew another pot of coffee.
"Eomma, Nouri doesn't care what I look like. Besides, we're friends. Friends should be accepting of one another—pajama pants and all."
Mrs. Kim didn't seem too convinced as she narrowed her eyes in distaste, but dropped the subject.
"How's school going son?" His father questioned, taking another sip of his black coffee. "Still pursuing that education degree?"
Namjoon's hand froze, grip growing tighter around the spoon. He felt his heart thump, his face grow warm with uncertainty, the way it always did when his parents brought up his degree.
"Yeah, for the time being," he finally answered, setting the spoon down in his bowl. "Speaking of school, remember that psychology class that I'm taking?"
"I do. Are you enjoying it?"
He nodded, full of enthusiasm. "I really am." With a pause, he gathered his courage. "You know, he told me something interesting the other day. My psych professor, I mean. He said that it actually wouldn't be too difficult for me to change my major from education to psychology. If I wanted to."
He couldn't bring himself to look up, so his eyes remained fixed on the bowl of cereal in front of him while silence settled over the kitchen; the only sound came from the coffee pot as it brewed.
"But you're not thinking of changing your major, are you, Namjoon?" His father asked. Namjoon flicked his eyes up towards him, the bravery and hope shriveling up within him just as quickly as it had blossomed.
"You've always talked about becoming a professor, just like your father," his mom chimed in. "Ever since you were a boy, sitting in his office while he graded papers."
"No, yeah of course not." The words tumbled quickly from his mouth, so rushed they were difficult to decipher—an obvious sign of lying on his end. One that his parents chose to ignore. "He just happened to bring it up to me the other day, and I thought it was interesting. You know, that you can still change your major without too many problems in your second year of university. That's all."
In all actuality, he had been the one to bring it up to his professor. And it wasn't recently—it was right after the first week of class.
He didn't care for his parents to know that, though.
Luckily, the arrival of a sleepy, bed-headed Nouri broke through the awkward tension that had begun to settle in the kitchen.
"Good morning," she mumbled, brushing wild strands of white hair from her eyes. She was wearing an old sweatshirt over fuzzy pajama pants, and Namjoon couldn't help but feel relieved that she had yet to change. Perhaps his mother would loosen up about his own attire.
"Hey Nouri," he greeted her, gesturing to the bar stool beside of him at the counter. As she sat down beside of him, he gestured towards his father. "This is—"
"Mr. Kim," his father interjected with a grin, extending his hand. "I'm sorry that I didn't get home early enough to meet you last night, Nouri. But welcome to our home."
Nouri nodded her head respectfully, shaking his hand. "Thank you for letting me stay here on such a short notice, I truly appreciate it."
"No need to thank us!" Mrs. Kim smiled brightly as she spoke, setting a fresh cup of coffee on the counter in front of their guest. "Namjoon said you like coffee. Do you need sugar? Creamer? Milk?"
"Black is fine," Nouri answered with a smile.
Namjoon knew that she liked creamer with her coffee, but figured she was too nervous to ask. He reached across the counter and grabbed hold of it, sliding it towards her. She smiled at him with tired eyes before pouring some into her mug.
"So, what do you kids have planned for today?" Mr. Kim asked. "You both woke up pretty late; it's already noon."
"I figured I'd take Nouri to the street market," Namjoon replied as he finished off his cereal. "They still do that on Saturdays, right?"
"Yes, but you'll need to hurry up," Mrs. Kim answered. "It closes down in a couple of hours."
"Is that okay with you, Nouri?" Namjoon asked.
She nodded, rubbing her eyes as she attempted to wake up more. "Yeah, sounds great."
-
"You really didn't have to get me this, Joonie."
Nouri fidgeted with the beaded bracelet, decorated with plastic lilies, that wrapped around her wrist. She was walking a stride behind Namjoon, so he slowed his pace and smiled at her.
"I saw you staring at it when we were at the market," he explained. "I couldn't let you leave without something to help you remember our trip to Ilsan."
"Well, thank you."
Golden sunlight streamed down through wiry tree branches that extended above the paved pathway that wound its way through the park. The area was more popular in the spring and summer, when flowers were blooming everywhere one looked. But Namjoon had always enjoyed it most in the fall. Leaves lazily trailed down from limbs and followed the breeze down to the yellowing grass, a chilling breeze gracing past his nose, scarf around his neck, hands in the pockets of his fleece.
The fact that he was there in the fall with Nouri made it even better.
"Wanna know why I was staring at this bracelet?" Namjoon looked over at Nouri when she spoke, her own eyes still fixed on the piece of jewelry.
"Sure."
"My birth name—the one I got from my biological father. It's Lily," she said. "Just like these flowers."
"Your birth name isn't Nouri?"
She shook her head. "My dad added it on as my Korean name once he adopted me, and it took over as my first name. I don't mind or anything; I was super young when it all happened. I don't even have any memories of my biological father before he passed away. But, sometimes . . ." she trailed off, her eyes searching the landscape, contemplating. "Sometimes I wish that I got to keep my name. Just so I had a little bit of my dad."
It was quiet, the hustle and bustle of the park shifting to the background of their comfortable silence. Namjoon wasn't sure what to say, but he didn't know if there really were proper words for that moment. It felt right to let her words sit in the air—they felt like the kind of words that needed to sink in rather than float into a conversation.
Gently, after a few moments had passed, Namjoon took Nouri's hand. "Follow me," he said, pulling her off the pathway. She didn't miss a beat and followed right along as he led her down through a patch of trees off the side of the path. On the other side of the small gathering of trees, he led her up a hillside, the sounds of people walking through the park fading away.
Soon, they stood on a gently sloped hillside, with a perfect view of the mid-afternoon sun over top the peaceful city of Ilsan.
"I used to picnic here with my mom when I was a kid," Namjoon explained as Nouri took in the view before her. "Especially when Kyungmin was little and had her soccer games in the field nearby. Not many people know about it."
"It's beautiful," Nouri breathed. "Can we sit?"
"Yeah, sure."
They eased themselves down, criss-crossed side by side on the slightly crunchy grass. The view truly was breathtaking, with hues of gold shining down and catching light on the greens of nature below, glinting off the city's rooftops. For a moment, all they did was sit and take it in.
Nouri broke the silence. "Joonie, why haven't you asked me why I called you last night?"
He was taken aback by her bluntness. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, you let me come all the way to Ilsan with you and stay at your family's home, just because I randomly called you crying at night," she elaborated. "Most people would probably want an explanation after going to all that trouble for someone."
"Oh." He exhaled through his nose, searching for the right words to say. "I mean, it never really crossed my mind to ask for an explanation. I'd never force you to talk to me about anything if you're not comfortable. But you needed me, so of course I did what I could to help."
She stared at him in an almost analytic way. It was as if she couldn't quite believe what he was saying to her. He wasn't sure why.
"Namjoon, I've really never met anyone like you." She finally said.
He wondered if she could see the rose that colored his cheeks.
"I mean, if you want to talk about it, I'm all ears," he said quickly, brushing her comment aside. "But I'd never pressure you into being open with me."
She smiled, shifting closer to him. The wind lifted strands of her hair, some of them reaching across and tickling his nose. "I can talk about it—to you."
He nodded slowly. "If you want to."
"Yeah. It's pretty basic stuff honestly. I had a fight with my parents."
This revelation was shocking to him; from what he had seen of the Lin family, they got along impeccably well. Arguments were expected of course, but a fight that drove Nouri to leave the house? It seemed unusual.
"What about?" He asked.
She sighed, beginning to pluck at the strands of grass around her feet. "That's . . . not quite as basic."
"I understand," he assured with a nod. "You don't have to answer that."
"Well—" she hesitated, but chose to continue. "I guess you could say it all boils down to me. They think that I make stupid and rash spur-of-the-moment decisions without thinking things through."
"Do you?" His eyes flicked to her profile as she gazed down at her sneakers.
"I wouldn't say so. I just think that when I have an opportunity to experience something new, I should take it whenever possible. I guess that might seem 'stupid' or 'rash' to some people."
"And why is that?"
"Because . . . Because I'm afraid of what might happen if I don't," she said quietly. "We make these big plans to do great things and meet amazing people and have these wonderful experiences, but then life decides to screw us over. Then we're stuck with no opportunity for escape—there's a big window between us and this world of possibility we've created inside our heads. We can look through and see what could have been, but we're trapped with what there is."
"And that scares you?" He asked, eyes still glued to the profile of her face.
"More than anything."
He nodded slowly, dragging his gaze away from her and back out to their view of the sun kissed landscape. It took approximately two seconds for him to feel the urge to look at her again, but he fought it off.
"Why do you think of it as being trapped though?" He asked after a moment of quiet. "Don't you think that the experiences you do get could be little adventures of their own? Life doesn't need to be this grand expedition in order for it to be special, I think. If you're too worried about losing the moments you don't even have, you'll let go of the ones you do."
He could feel her eyes on him then, but he didn't dare try to make eye contact. Though he used an immense amount of effort to appear confident when he spoke, that didn't eliminate the tangled nerves that sat in the pit of his stomach.
Yet, he didn't regret what he said.
She didn't say anything for a while. He began to grow worried, but soon she asked him, "What about you, Joon? What are you afraid of?"
He knew she was avoiding his question, but he had sort of expected that. Knowing better than to press her, he decided to just answer hers.
"I think I'm afraid of my mom."
The sound of Nouri's laughter after this statement helped some of his nerves dissolve. He smiled and finally looked at her again, seeing her wide grin and crinkled eyes accompanied by her freckled cheeks that were flushed pink.
"I'm serious," he said with a laugh of his own, which didn't help to prove his point. "I think Kyungmin is kinda scared of her too."
"Sorry," Nouri breathed, placing a hand on her chest as she calmed down. "It's just—your mom is so sweet."
"She is," he agreed. "And she's one of the most amazing people I know. I'm really grateful for her and everything she's done for me."
"But?" Nouri asked quietly.
"But, I'm afraid of letting her down," he said. "Her and dad somehow got this idea when I was young that I wanted to be just like him and become a professor. I didn't mind the idea, but now, I've got a passion for something else. My dream is different. But I'm so scared of telling her that. I don't think I could bear to see any disappointment in her eyes."
Nouri hummed, narrowing her eyes in thought. "I think you should tell her," she said. "I know it's not that easy—it'll take some courage on your part. And I'm not a great motivational speaker like you," she teased, causing him to roll his eyes, "but I will say this. You're already amazing at everything you do. Imagining your character paired with a passion to do something you love? Namjoon, you would be unstoppable."
Heart clenching, he could barely think of anything to say. "Do you think so?" He finally asked.
She smiled. "I do. I really do. Chase after that idea, that dream. You'll do some wonderful things, Joonie."
Almost as if it were instinct, he reached out and pulled her into his arms, his chin resting atop her shoulder as he hugged her. For a second he thought she would pull away, but she didn't. Her own arms wrapped around his waist as she rested her head beside his neck.
"Thank you," he whispered. Because though her words may have been simple, they were the ones he needed to hear more than anything else.
And, in that moment, Namjoon and Nouri weren't two unpaid-detectives wrapped up in a serial kidnapping case.
There, on the hillside, even if it was only for a moment, they were just a confused boy and a scared girl, finding comfort in an embrace.