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Namjoon doesn’t believe the world is meant to be understood. It holds no obligation to reveal itself entirely, no promise to be pieced together neatly.
Simply put, Namjoon thinks life makes no sense. At least, not most of the time.
Whenever he tries to make sense of the world, his mind just loops back to the same endless questions: why, why, and why.
Why does he feel like this? Why does he feel so deeply, so intensely, as if he holds the whole universe within him? Why does he carry all this love, spilling and surging, when there’s no one to receive it?
Why him? Why would he be given a heart so restless, always on the brink of flight, aching to shatter into stardust?
Life doesn’t make sense. His own existence—this ache, this boundless feeling—doesn’t make sense. And maybe it never will.
He knows he's a living contradiction. A soul brimming with the urge to kiss the world, to wrap it in all the love he holds. There's so much to love, so much he wants to love.
But beneath this vast, consuming pit of affection, there's a weight, a heavy stone lodged deep within his chest, heavier than his existence, that feels entirely out of place.
It’s an itch, an urge to simply… cease.
Even now, he can’t shape these feelings into words, can’t turn them into something solid he can chew, taste, and swallow—hoping they’d leave, even if only a bitter aftertaste lingered.
He doesn’t know what his purpose is.
He finishes school at the top of his class. He has a respectable job. His graduate certificate sits in an ivory frame his mother proudly bought and hung on the wall. Each morning, he wakes in a comfortable bed, feet meeting solid floors beneath him, a life of quiet stability.
By all measures, he has nothing to complain about.
Yet somehow, he feels nothing. No sense of fulfillment. Only the ache of something missing, something he can’t quite name.
And then he met Jungkook. Eyes brimming with wonder, holding a love for the world that seemed as boundless as Namjoon’s own. The difference, though, Jungkook lacks the shadow of sadness that seemed to follow Namjoon everywhere, like a storm cloud just on the edge of every sunny day.
Not that Namjoon would ever wish the same heavy, tangled emotions on anyone. But in Jungkook, he saw a reflection of himself. Someone who loves so hard, and so deeply.
They met at a charity event, in a cozy, colorful room filled with children sitting on bright chairs. Some were hooked to IV drips, others wore oxygen masks, but their faces lit up with excitement, their eyes darting between the books, toys, and the adults with warm smiles.
Everyone was asked to share a story. An adventure, a dream, a moment of joy. Jungkook stepped forward, and began to tell the kids about the first time he went bungee jumping—upside down.
He described how surreal it felt to let himself fall, headfirst, the world flipping over, the air rushing past him. How his heart raced, not just with fear but with exhilaration, knowing he was safely secured.
The kids stared at him, utterly captivated, their eyes sparkling as if he was the coolest person in the room–which, Namjoon thought, he absolutely was. Jungkook laughed as he told them how he conquered not just his fear of heights, but his fear of falling—of falling short, of falling through life itself.
Again, life doesn’t make sense. How he and Jungkook ended up in the same place, at the same moment. Namjoon, who barely knows him—just another name in the circle of volunteers introduced before the event began—felt an inexplicable pull toward the man.
And Namjoon, who rarely approaches people first, felt like he had to say something.
“You would make a great Spiderman,” he blurted out.
For a solid second, Jungkook simply stared at him, caught off guard. That pause clung to the air, heavy. But then, he laughed. A full, unrestrained laugh that lit up the room.
Namjoon couldn’t help but laugh along.
“I was Spiderman for Halloween last year,” Jungkook said once his laughter subsided. “Me and my niece went trick-or-treating, and I kept getting stopped by parents because their kids wanted pictures. And, well, maybe I’m a bit of a show-off because if they were nice, I’d give them a backflip. The kids loved it! So you’re not entirely wrong.”
And that was it. That was all it took for Namjoon to want to know Jungkook more. Totally platonic at first. Maybe it was his heart, small, quiet, and so starved for the warmth of new friendship, cheering softly in the hollow of his chest, daring to feel a little less alone.
Jungkook is interesting, to say the least. He has so many stories to tell, his life a colorful reel of moments that make Namjoon’s steady, predictable world feel… small.
And he’s so incredibly impulsive at times it makes Namjoon’s anxiety spike. Like that one afternoon, when the golden hues of the sunset spilled across the avenue, and a street violinist played a soft, romantic tune.
An elderly lady was gently coaxing her husband to dance, but he shook his head with a shy, stubborn smile.
Namjoon hadn’t even noticed at first, too lost in his thoughts, until he realized Jungkook wasn’t walking beside him anymore. He turned, only to see Jungkook bowing slightly before the lady, asking her for a dance.
Right there, in the middle of the street, Jungkook twirled her gently, the amber light catching in her beaming smile. Namjoon stood rooted, half-shocked, half-amused.
The music seemed to pull others in, and soon, other couples stepped into the music, spinning and swaying as if the avenue itself had transformed into a dance floor.
Namjoon stood at the edge of it all, watching as Jungkook walked the lady back to her husband, who perhaps moved by the gesture, finally agreed to a second dance.
And in that moment, it hit him.
It hit him like the first chill of autumn air, a gentle but unshakable pull, lifting his gaze from the scattered leaves at his feet to the beauty of the trees that’s sometimes overlooked.
That’s what it means, he thought. To love the world so fully that your heart leads you to share it—boldly, selflessly.
That day, back in his quiet space, Namjoon found himself admitting, Jungkook helps life make a little more sense.
So falling in love with Jungkook is easy. Easier than Namjoon ever imagined it could be.
And that’s what makes it terrifying—to let himself be swept away by the feeling, to surrender to something so vast and consuming. Even with all the love he has to give, even with his heart ready to pour every last drop of its overflow into Jungkook.
To the man who brought new meanings to his days. Namjoon doesn’t even know where it begins, this feeling, or where it might take him. All he knows is that it’s there, growing, and it refuses to be ignored.
So, like that first time Jungkook showed him on that avenue, Namjoon lets his heart lead him to a place it yearns to be.
“I once longed to be dead,” Namjoon says quietly when Jungkook returns with a freshly refilled cup of tea. Everything, Everywhere, All At Once is paused on the scene where Evelyn and Joy turn into rocks.
Jungkook settles under the shared blanket, his movements slow, careful. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t interrupt. He knows Namjoon isn’t done.
“Sometimes, the urge is still there,” Namjoon continues. “It bothers me so much. But these days? Not as much. Maybe not at all. Will it ever come back? I don’t know...”
Namjoon exhales, his fingers gripping the edge of the blanket. “But I still want to say it in past tense. Jungkook, I once longed to be dead.”
The words hang in the air, raw and vulnerable. Jungkook doesn’t rush to respond, his hand reaching to where Namjoon’s knuckles had turned white from how hard he grips the blanket.
“Do you know the reasons behind why you feel those feelings?” Jungkook finally asks.
Namjoon takes a deep breath, his eyes wandering the room as if the answer is hidden in its corners, waiting to be found.
“There’s just… so much I can feel,” Namjoon says, his voice catching in his throat. “Too much. Like I was born with two hearts with endless pits, and my love for this world keeps overflowing, rising to my throat. Sometimes I wonder if that’s how I’ll die—choking on it.”
Jungkook’s thumb gently strokes the ridges of his knuckles so softly, Namjoon has to physically stop himself from spilling all his love for the man beside him right then and there.
“Maybe I sound self-centered,” Namjoon continues. “Or maybe self-proclaimed is the better word. A self-proclaimed lover . Someone who thinks they feel more, love more, as if other people don’t have hearts of their own. If that’s the case… then I’m sorry.”
Jungkook shakes his head firmly. “No, you are definitely full of love. And there are people out there who lack that. You know there are terrible people in this world.”
“Right,” Namjoon says, a small, fleeting smile tugging at his lips. Of course Jungkook understands. He always does. “But… It's confusing to me. How I feel too much. How I love too hard. How I want to love this world, this life, my family, the sky, the trees. But Jungkook…” His voice drops, trembling slightly. “I also hate this world.”
“Oh, Namjoon…”
“I don’t understand,” Namjoon says, his voice breaking slightly. “It doesn’t make sense. Why would the world give me so much love, but let me be consumed by loneliness? Why does it let me rip my heart open, hold the fragments in my hands, only for no one to take them? No one who wants to stay?”
The blanket clings to Namjoon’s damp skin, making him feel stifled. But he doesn’t move. “It doesn’t make sense most of the time. Me. Life. Love. Why am I like this? Why do I love this world so much, yet there are so many times I don’t want to be a part of it?”
“Joon…” Jungkook’s gaze meets his. “Can I… say something? I mean, if you just want me to listen, I’ll stay quiet. I’ll just listen.”
“Sure,” Namjoon replies. “I don’t mind.”
“I think you’re special,” Jungkook begins. “To have so much love inside you. To feel so deeply for this life and for the people around you. But it sucks, doesn’t it? That life doesn’t come with a guidebook on how to handle the gifts it gives us—how they can hurt us as much as they make us who we are. I’m sorry you’ve spent so long feeling lonely. Feeling like you have so much love to give, but no one is willing to take it and stay by your side.”
He pauses, his brow furrowing slightly as he chooses his next words. “But Joon… maybe you were given that—so much love to give—not just for others, but so you could share it with yourself too.”
The words land in the quiet room, sinking into Namjoon’s heart. It should’ve been obvious, Namjoon thinks. As Jungkook’s words echo in his ears, it feels so clear, so simple.
Why hadn’t he thought of it before? Why hadn’t he seen it from that perspective?
He has given himself love, in his ways, but it never occurred to him that this could be part of it. That the reason he has so much love, brimming and overflowing, is because some of it was always meant for him too. Not just for the world, but for the person trying so hard to carry it.
And for the first time, it feels like the answer has been there all along, waiting patiently for him to realize it.
“Fuck,” is the only word Namjoon can manage in that moment. “God, I’m so st—”
“Don’t say it,” Jungkook interrupts. “I know what you’re going to say, and I’m stopping you right there. You are not that word. You are the opposite of that.”
He leans in slightly, his eyes locking with Namjoon’s. “And hell yes, the world doesn’t make sense most of the time, and it probably never will. But that doesn’t mean you don’t make sense, or that what you feel isn’t valid.”
“Sorry,” Namjoon says. He pinches the bridge of his nose, closes his eyes, and forces himself to refocus on Jungkook. “And thank you, Jungkook… I know this is so out of the blue, and… and heavy . I just dropped it on you on a random Tuesday, and I don’t even know where I’m going with this whole conversation. But the truth is… I was planning to tell you that I like you, Jungkook.”
He catches the slight hitch in Jungkook’s breath, sees the way Jungkook exhales shakily, and it only makes Namjoon’s heart pound harder.
“I want to say the other word,” he continues, the words spilling out too quickly now, “but we’re… I don’t know if I should. But if … if I didn’t read this wrong, and you’re not going to run out that door by the time I finish this ramble, and if somehow you like me, this messy person, too”—he gestures at himself—“then I’ll say it. I’ll say the word when it’s appropriate. You know I have so much love, Jungkook, and I’m letting it flow to you.”
“Of course I’m not going to run out through that door,” Jungkook finally says, cutting through Namjoon’s spiral with a steady voice. “If we’re going to die choking on too much love rising up our throats, then I’d rather it be with you.”
Namjoon lets out a wet laugh, the kind that sounds halfway between a sob and a choke. It’s disgusting, and he knows it. He wishes Jungkook’s ears didn’t pick up on the sound of his sniffles, but with their faces so close, there’s no escaping it.
“That’s fucking bleak,” Namjoon says, “but weirdly romantic.”
Jungkook chuckles softly. “What I meant is, I like you too. And I’ll try my best to receive your overflowing love and not run with it.”
“Good,” Namjoon says simply. “Really good.”
“Life still doesn’t make sense?” Jungkook asks teasingly.
“Nope,” Namjoon replies, laughing as he shakes his head. “But I think I’ve found new meanings to it.”
He lets the words settle in the air between them, feeling the weight of their truth. And for the first time, Namjoon feels like it’s enough. Like he’s enough.
Namjoon thinks back to the words he had said, I once longed to be dead . And as he looks at Jungkook, at the small smile on his face, Namjoon feels hope bloom inside him. A hope that those words will remain where they belong: in the past.
He once longed to be dead.