FOOLS

Chapter 2

The tie around his neck was a little too tight, but considering he did it himself by watching some videos, it was good enough. When his mother sees him, she'll gasp and fix it. She had always loved helping him dress for school or for special occasions, though that was when he was younger. Namjoon moved out of the house when he turned 18 and left for college, eager to start his rambunctious life.

His father always questioned why he would leave the house when he was living the life so many people wanted. Yes, everyone wanted a father who owned numerous companies and pharmaceutical factories. A house overlooking the skyline, the perimeter lined with golden gates and the family crest. Namjoon thought those were more to boost his father's ego than to add anything to the family's honor. Namjoon's old room was the size of his current apartment right now. His mother had reserved the room with mountain views for him, already knowing that the sight of nature was something he needed every day.

His room, now bare and left empty, used to be his haven. Shelves slid out of the walls and housed his numerous collections of action figures. At night, when he slept, Namjoon would pretend that the toys were alive and were watching over him. Protecting him from any demons hiding under his bed, or hiding in the other rooms. While his father was home, Namjoon never dared step foot within the 100-foot radius. From the looks of it, his father was by no way a monster. But that superficial image was only seen by outsiders.

Namjoon shudder at the thoughts, today was not the day to remember these thoughts. The servant reached to take his pastel bag, but he shook his head. "I'll give it to her myself," he told the servant, who nodded and retrieved back to his position. The white marble floor was something he did miss, the spotless interior that's not littered with bags of chips or empty beer cans like his own floor.

His mother appeared from her room, dressed in a subtle white and gold dress. Father must have bought it for her. Part the most part, she looked uncomfortable in it. Occasionally pulling it in places where it hugged her body too tight. He must have been envisioning someone else when purchasing it. Or in reality, when he sent his assistant to do it instead. Her face lit up, partly because of the newly polished chandelier hanging above the staircase, but mostly because she was delighted to see her son after so long.

"You promised to visit for Christmas." was the first thing she said after hugging him. The smell of cotton filled his nose as his hands ruffled the dress. The material felt rough against his skin, he could only imagine how she must be feeling. Internally, he sighed a little upon realizing how thin she had gotten. When they pulled apart, he spent some time rememorizing the details of her face again. It seems that every time he visits, there were new marks, more wrinkles, and the light from her eyes fading slowly.

"Sorry eomma, work has been busy," he answered. "But I promise I'll visit more."

The promise didn't make her feel at ease. Her hand shakingly reached up to caress his face, her thumb trailing the skin underneath his eyes. "Have you been sleeping and eating well? I can have someone bring food over for you if you'd like. I can also send the family doctor to your apartment if you don't have time to go see him..." She went on and Namjoon let her, he misses her voice and all her 'nagging'.

"I'm fine, eomma. Please remember to look after yourself as well." he reminded her, who looked a little embarrassed, but only nodded as a reply. "I got this for you." he then said, raising the pastel bag to her face.

"I told you not to get me anything. You having dinner with me on my birthday is enough." Nonetheless, she took the tissues paper out to reveal a small black velvet box. She gave him a look as she lifted the lid. Her eyes were drawn to the crystals, her smile wide and invigorating. It caused Namjoon to smile as well, his dimple emerging.

"I told you I would give you the stars one day. And these are close enough." he chuckled as he put the bracelet on her slender wrist. She laughed as she tried muffling a cry. "It's not the most exquisite thing, I hope you don't mind."

"Shut up, it's beautiful. Thank you, Namjoon." She held his hand as she led him to the familiar dining room, except somehow, the dining table seemed longer. The literal separation of the family, as if Namjoon and his mother needed another reminder of it. Namjoon helped his mother down in her seat and himself seated near her. The chair at the other end was empty. Namjoon could barely see it over the mountain of food.

"Where is he?" Namjoon asked, emphasizing the last part.

"He's your father, Namjoon, and he said there was some traffic."

Bullshit, Namjoon thought, there wasn't any traffic on his drive over. But any excuse would work on his mother, she's too pure and naive to be married to such a man. Then the doors open once again, revealing the monster he had always hidden from. His father strut in, loosening his tie, and tossing his briefcase to the closest servant. He hadn't spared either Namjoon or his mother a glance before proceeding to dig into the steak in front of him.

His mother cleared her throat, "Honey, Namjoon is here for dinner."

At the mention, Namjoon sat up just a little bit taller, asserting his dominance over himself. His father looked up and nodded slowly. "Nice of you to join us, finally."

"My apologies abeoji. This investigation is taking longer than we thought."

"Ah, right. Your little police team." his father laughed. Namjoon clenched his jaws and resist the urge to flip the table. His mother placed a hand firmly on his. "Well what could be expected from a team with no real guidance."

"Honey, please, let's just enjoy dinner."

"Whatever. I have a meeting soon with some investors, don't bother me in my studies." With that, he wiped his mouth and left. The air inside the room dare not to move as the two of them were left in silence.

"He forgot, again." Namjoon said flatly.

"At least he's home now." his mother answered. She exhaled painfully and continued with her dinner as if nothing happened, or as if it happened once too many for her for care.