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stage boy:
That's as far as his dreaming goes. It stops there because it's an illusion, something that will never happen.
Just a memory that has been printed into his mind with black ink that doesn't fade away. Namjoon opens his eyes and takes another sip from his water bottle, this time savoring the cold liquid that soothes his throat.
The sun has become a butterscotch candy in the swirling of pink and yellow hues. He checks his phone again, pretending he isn't disappointed when he has received no text from Jackson or Hoseok.
It's getting late and Namjoon guesses that they are eating at some burger joint without him. He wonders who the victim was this time, if it was an elderly lady or some drunken idiot.
Namjoon pushes himself away from the pole and tucks his bottle back into his backpack.
He is in no rush to get home, he knows that his mother is out working another late shift because Friday's are always the days that her co-workers want to leave earlier and when customers rush in like bee's flying to honey.
He knows that no one awaits him home, there isn't anyone who he will greet and smile at. It's just him and his mom.
Today there is music playing. Namjoon finds that odd, his steps slowing down as he turns the corner to reach his neighborhood.
Where he lives it is always quiet, always peaceful. There are no shrieks of children, no families arguing loudly, not even a dog to bark at strangers. It's lonely, empty.
But, today it's loud, with music pumping loudly and bringing a bit of life to the silent neighborhood.
Namjoon frowns when he turns the curb, the music is closer. Calling him in with its sweet and angelic voice that sing lyrics that are too deep.
Namjoon walks toward the music and the murmuring of voices, and he is surprised by what he finds.
It is here that Namjoon sees the boy, he is leaning against the graffiti painted wall that seems a little too perfect for the real world.
He hasn't noticed Namjoon yet, too busy standing against the grey brick wall as if it were his stage. Namjoon immediately knows that this boy is trouble, nothing about him can bring good.
His mother has warned him of his kind, of those snakes who lure you in with their pretty eyes and handsome smiles, and once they have you they bite. Leaving you paralyzed with its poison as you die a slow and painful death.
Sometimes Namjoon wonders if his mother knows because his father was like that.
But, he wouldn't know, his father left him and his mother.
Namjoon stayed put, watching the boy twirl his cigarette prop expertly. It wasn't lit, just something to make the stage boy look tough, scary, like a trouble maker.
Stage boy wanted people to fear him because he brought the bad news. He wanted to stare down at people and make them feel like they had no business to stare. To move along and not get any closer.
Namjoon can tell that if he gets any closer that these people will destroy him in a way worse than the bullies use to do. He can tell by the way they look at people, at the way they glare at the cement floor as they twirl their cigarette props.
Stage boy has his handpick of backdrops, actors like him that stand next to him and disapprove of what he disapproves. That sneer and laugh at what he sneers and laughs at. They all wear the same costume:
Black skinny jeans, with a hole on the knee or the thigh.
Black boots that are clean of dust and dirt.
Black hoodies and sweaters that show the curves of their bodies.
Black beanies to hide their hair from view.
A tattoo somewhere hidden beneath the thick clothing.
Namjoon quickly looks away, stage boy is bad news. He is just like the leader, evokes fear on others with his actors to push and pull at those that are not part of their play.
Namjoon does not plan of being the audience today.
He leaves before stage boy notices him.
