BTS SMERALDO THE NOTES 1 (Edited & Translated)

Hoseok: 16 May Year 22

The Topmost Floor in the City
Part 11

At home I could be myself. I could scream at the top of my lungs. I could sing. I could play music and dance. Sometimes I woke up crying at night. I would lie still and stare at the ceiling.

I could do all these things at home without collapsing. If I did any of these things outside,  my narcolepsy would get the best of me.

Jimin came to my house after he escaped. He stood on my balcony looking out at the City instead of going home. He was probably looking out for our school, the Two Star Burger joint, and the lights that changed at the railroad. I did that too.

He was probably looking at his home too. It was a human thing to do. Everyone looks for their home when they climb somewhere high or spread out a large map.

I wanted to ask him why he didn't want to go home, but thought best not to. He'd been through enough already. I didn't want to make him feel any worse.

I rarely asked my friends questions. I felt I knew the answers to most of them already. I didn't want to make them feel awkward either. On the other hand, they might also find the questions a little annoying to answer.

To be honest, I was curious about most people I came across. I never asked them anything.

Where was jungkook going with his wounds?
Was Yoongi's workroom in the direction Jungkook was going?
Why did Namjoon leave school?
How did Taehyung learn how to graffiti?

I didn't really know that much about the others.

"Did you find it?" I asked, drawing closer to Jimin.
"Find what?" He asked, confused.
"Your house."
Jimin nodded.

"I grew up in the orphanage right there."
I pointed to a place beyond the railroad.
"Do you see the supermarket in the direction of the river from the gas station Namjoon works? Do you see the clover-shaped neon sign behind it? The orphanage is to the left of it. I lived there for more than ten years.

Jimin's eyes were questioning. He was probably wondering why I was telling him all this.

My friends knew I grew up in an orphanage. I considered it home. A home without mom.

"I have something to confess." Something I'd been lying about. "That my narcolepsy was fake."
that might've been why I couldn't get close to anyone; ask them about their lives. It wasn't because I was afraid of hurting them. It was because I'd lied. I was too scared to be honest with people. Once I told them about the narcolepsy, I'd have to tell them that I didn't have a mom.

Jimin wasn't good at hiding his feelings. His startled look was self-explanatory. I didn't know how to apologize to him. Jimin had worried about me countless times. The first time he'd seen me collapsed, he'd cried.

"I didn't do it on purpose. I must've ignored the fact that there was a way for me to be okay in the end. I know this doesn't make sense. I really don't know how to explain it to you."

"But you're okay now, right?' Jimin asked after a while, turning to look at me.

Am I okay? I asked myself. Jimin waited for me to answer. He wasn't criticizing or sympathizing with me.

I looked down at the city below us.

"I don't really know, Jimin. We'll have to wait and see."

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