thoughts ; meanie

1 ; home

home

-mingyu

  
   His personality doesn't match his face. His sharp eyes make him look cold but in reality, he's just a grown five year old.

   That's the first thing I noticed about Wonwoo. Right when he sat down on that bench that I was close enough to call my new home, he showed me his personality. His beautiful personality. People like him are rare, his selflessness, his caring nature. Plus he never quits talking. Which is good because I don't really feel like saying much. If I start to talk, I'm afraid I might bring back memories of yesterday, memories that I want to forget but I know I won't.

   "Plus, I think flowers are beautiful anyways of course. But people need to appreciate leaves more. Like, I know it's weird but leaves are so important. When they fall, they signal the end of summer. They make piles that kids jump into. They flow around the world, drifting to where the wind takes them. Which is completely amazing. Don't you think?" Wonwoo looks over to me, stars in his eyes as he talks about things that interest him. I just nod my head, feeling the ends of my lips curving up. He has been rambling like this for the past few minutes as we walk to his apartment. It amazes me how he finds interest in the smallest things. What people usually just pass off as ordinary, like a leaf falling from a tree or a butterfly coming out of its cocoon, he sees as magnificent. Like its the greatest, most important thing that could ever happen, which is marvelous. I've never seen someone who appreciated the little things in life like him. It's a bit refreshing to say the least.

   "You are a really good listener, Mingyu. Usually people just tell me to shut up or roll their eyes when I start to waffle about life's extraordinary things. But you listen, and maybe even seem to enjoy it. That's new for me." Wonwoo laughs softly, his actions showing that he is telling the truth, and that this truth hurts more than he lets on. I sigh at that. Wonwoo has such a perplexed, complicated, mysterious way of thinking that a lot of people probably don't understand. But that hurts me, knowing that this boy just wants to share his thoughts with the world, only to have no one pay any attention to him. Wonwoo deserves to have people listen to him, to make him know that his thoughts are valid.

   But why do I trust him so much? I talked to him for about five minutes at 3 am on a bench that I had finally found after searching for an hour with a swollen eye, a huge gash on my side, and a bleeding lip. Any normal person would have ran after they saw the state that I was in. But not Wonwoo, no he offered his place up to me. He looked past all my rough edges because he is just that kind of person. He is the only person in my life that remotely cares for me and that is saying something since I just met him not long ago.

   "We are here." Wonwoo sighs and looks at me, pointing up to a shaggy building. He leads the way inside, climbing up some flights of stairs before entering a hallway.

   30A. He sticks the keys into the door and turns on the light, revealing a small room with a tiny couch and a wooden coffee table.

   "So this is where the magic happens." Wonwoo looks at me, pride being displayed on his face. 'He must love it here. His own little place that he calls home. It must be nice.' I inwardly sigh at this, knowing just how much different I am from him. A broken boy with no home compared to a boy who lives in his own mind. So different but similar at the same time...

   He leads me into the kitchen, sitting me down on a rickety chair that looks like it could break any second. I shuffle awkwardly, trying to get comfortable. He puts the first aid kit down onto the table, opening up and searching through it.