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One of the few free weekends for last year students brought Hoseok and Namjoon to the movies. It was some melo Namjoon can’t bother making out from the rest, the main character turning a new leaf all because of a love interest. He expected to lull his brain into a false sense of relaxation between poetic metaphors and mathematical formulas. Twelve years of schooling all depend on this one test.
So imagine his confusion when Hoseok started stifling his hiccups and failing horribly at it, hot tears rolling down his cheeks as the couple finally reunite.
Hoseok is more sensitive than most teenaged boys, yes, also more prone to tears than Namjoon’s sister, maybe, but he’s right there next to Namjoon on buying into melodrama tropes, which is not at all. Obviously, something was bothering him. Namjoon’s only surer of this on their walk home from the subway. Instead of chatting his ears off like usual, Hoseok seemed more subdued and let him do most of the talking. Of course, this isn’t strange in itself, but coupled with his crying earlier, Namjoon can’t be blamed for freaking out a bit internally.
By the time they settled down for bed, Hoseok spending the night at the Kim’s cause they have cram school first thing in the morning, Namjoon still haven’t figured out how to bring it up. He accepts exchanging sleep for worrying instead.
“Hey,” whispers Hoseok, thirty years or an hour later, voice swallowed by pillows and blankets and the darkened night. He waits a few beats before continuing, “Are you awake?”
Namjoon hums, afraid he’d break whatever this atmosphere falling over them is. It feels vulnerable, especially as he turns to where Hoseok’s lying and see nothing but pitch black.
“Are you up for some soul searching?” There’s a hint of a smile in Hoseok’s voice.
“Don’t I always?” Namjoon says, chuckling quietly.
“True. It’s a rhetorical question anyway.” Sounds of shuffling. Namjoon thinks Hoseok’s gathering the blanket closer to himself. He doesn’t answer and merely waits for the other to continue.
A couple minutes pass without any movement from Hoseok.
“Did you fall asleep?” Namjoon asks, turning on his side.
“...No,” comes Hoseok’s voice, “I’m just thinking. I don’t know how to begin.”
“Wow, what has the Earth come to.”
“Ha ha,” Hoseok bites back with no heat. Namjoon can feel his mouth stretching into a smile. They’re going to be so exhausted tomorrow.
“So what is it?” he prods. “It’s not related to the movie today, is it?”
“I, don’t know, to be honest, maybe?” Hoseok shifts around some more. Now, he’d be breathing in Namjoon’s face if they weren’t lying on two separate futons.
“Hey, am I horrible if I can’t stand people in love?” Namjoon clearly didn’t expect this. It seems oddly juvenile, like Donghyuk when he prays for rain on Valentine’s Day, but he has a feeling there’s more to it.
“Not really, why can’t you stand it?”
“It’s just, don’t you think romance is too overhyped? You keep getting fed the idea that there’s someone out there for you, and you’re, just, incomplete, until you meet that person.” says Hoseok, words rushing out like a dam being opened. “You can spend your whole life improving yourself, but all that effort is nothing compared to having that special someone and having them fix you instead.”
“... Isn’t that just the movies and novels though?” Namjoon begins tentatively. Are they seriously debating the overestimation of love in modern society? At this hour of the night? Early morning?
“Ah, no, that came out wrong,” Hoseok huffs. “I just hate that love is considered inevitable and something we should all strive to achieve I guess.” The vehemence present a few moments ago seeps out until the sentence become a sigh. “And I hate that I’ll never feel it, probably.”
“What do you mean by that?” Namjoon’s grasping at straws but he thinks they’re getting close. It’s always baby steps with Hoseok when he’s the one opening up.
“I don’t know,” Hoseok says. “Something’s wrong with me.”
Namjoon opens his mouth only to close it again. He opts to reach across the floor and grip the edge of Hoseok’s blanket.
“I haven’t noticed until recently, but I can’t think of anyone I’ve ever looked at and thought ‘I want to date you’ or ‘It’d be nice if we were in a relationship’ or even ‘I can masturbate thinking of you’.” Hoseok barrels on. “And when you guys talk about crushes or celebrities or when we study love poems or when noona tells me about her latest novel obsession, I don’t understand at all. And it’s so frustrating, how everyone is in on this huge thing, and no one is actively excluding me, but no matter how hard I try I can’t get in on the loop at all.” He inhales deeply, slowing his speech down. “But I don’t think I want to either, you know? It sucks to not understand, but it sucks more to imagine myself doing any of those things. Like skin-crawling, gut-squeezing, I-feel-sick suck.” The words become mumbled.
The room stills. As Hoseok reach the end of his venting, he notices how ragged his breathing is in the quiet of the night. His pulse drums in his ear. He wonders if Namjoon’s eyes were in their focused squint, if what he said was taken seriously enough for Namjoon to think about it instead of dismissing it as crazy rambling. He feels the other’s hand coming to rest on his shoulder rather than see it and relaxes muscles he didn’t know were tensed.
“I, think that’s normal of you. Not common, maybe, but not wrong,” says Namjoon. “Look, there are billions of people on this planet, millions of people fighting the big man and saying ‘No, I don’t want to be a part of the system and work until I die with no passion for myself.’ It’s unconventional to refuse going to college and working a nine-to-five job afterward, but it’s not rare. It’s the same, I think. There’s no way you’re the only one.”
He probably rambled a bit, but he hopes it doesn’t come out too preachy. A passing car illuminates the room, headlight catching on a stray tear at the corner of Hoseok’s eye. Startled, Namjoon squeezes his shoulder.
“No, sorry, I yawned,” Hoseok says with a grin. “Thanks, Joonie,” he sighs, relieved and light, feeling like he could float away if not for the weight of Namjoon’s hand.
They lay in silence. Each breath Hoseok takes is easier than the last and he wonders why he hasn’t told his best friend sooner, he would have months ago if he knew it’d turn out this way.
His body aches but his head is clear.
“We all have a galaxy in our hearts,” says Namjoon, voice soothing. “Just because you don’t feel the same thing the same way someone else does doesn’t mean your galaxy is any less than theirs.”
“Ooohh, Kim Namjoon.” Hoseok wiggles his fingers at him, barely visible under the blanket he’d wound tight around himself.
“Shut up, I’m trying to create a moment here,” Namjoon snips petulantly. “I’ve been reading this philosophy book… It’s really nice.”
Hoseok makes an encouraging noise. Philosophy books never get him concentrated long, but it’s always so interesting to hear Namjoon talk about them and think about his understanding of what they’re portraying.
“Maybe love is an incentive, or a star in the galaxy,” Namjoon says, slow and contemplative. It coaxes Hoseok’s eyes to shut. “But there’s more than one kind of love and no lone star can make an entire galaxy.” He sounds like he’s drifting off to sleep too. After a few seconds, Namjoon’s breath evens out and he begins to snore.
Hoseok sleeps with a tiny smile, dreamless and warm.
(They get up late and miss 30 minutes of class.)