Trying to decide between slamming your head on your desk until the concussion gives you the excuse to flunk your test, burning all your school books and making a break for the nearest international airport, or just curling into the fetal position and crying yourself unconscious, you settled with rereading the last paragraph for the 8th time.

You knew it was the 8th time because you have been counting.

You still, however, didn’t know what that paragraph was supposed to be telling you.

You sighed and dropped your head with a heavy thunk onto the desk, tears already leaking when the phone you had thrown haphazardly onto the bed starting ringing, the ringtone alerting you immediately as to who was calling. “I got a pocketful, pocketful of sunshine, I got a love and I know that it is all mine…”

You stole a sad glance at the phone, the argument last night coming to mind. Hobi was disappointed that you canceled date night… again. He had said he understood, and you bet he did, he worked hard all the time for his own job. He knew how important this semester, this year, no, this whole undergraduate degree meant to your future, and he was always very encouraging.

It had taken a long time and a lot of blood, sweat, and tears to get yourself in a good enough place financially and mentally so you could go back to college. The dream of helping people overwhelming even though you had to work ten times harder than the kids coming straight in from high school. But your Hope was a worrier in his very nature and he had been noticing the toll that working and being a full-time student was starting to take on you.

He meant well with his calls and texts and adorable snap chats, but he was like the sun when he was near and you were never able to concentrate with how bright he was. He lit up any room he was in and his laugh and jokes made it hard for you to take anything seriously, even your school work. So you had told him that you were going to spend the weekend studying instead of spending what little free time he had before promotions with him. You had promised to make it up to him, but you could see his smile was a bit forced and when he had placed his lips on the top of your head and whispered that he loved you, you knew he was concerned.

But he understands.

It still hurt, though. It hurt both of you.

The phone rang a few more times, but it never gave the tone for a new voice mail. You hoped he wasn’t giving up on you. Having been together for a couple of years, the two of you had dealt with hard times before, but things seemed even more disheartening now for some reason. Maybe it was finals rushing up, but the fear of him giving up on all you had worked together for was starting to cause a panic attack to crush your chest.

Closing your eyes and taking several slow deep breaths, you slowly brought yourself under control. You reached over to turn on some classical music, they said it was good for studying - whoever “They” were - and developed back into rereading the paragraph again.

*********************************************************************************

Minutes, hours, days, perhaps even months later, the overhead light came on and with a flourish only Hobi could pull off without looking like a complete fool, two large brown paper bags filled with what smelled like Chinese food from your favorite restaurant were plopped down on the desk and a bottle of your favorite cheap wine, still chilled from the store fridge was placed to the side. He finished with two cheap plastic glasses from your cabinet.

You stared at the offerings for a solid minute not comprehending what was happening. Hobi stood silently and let you take it in. You glanced at his face, his smile brighter than any star in the solar system. His hair had been styled up to show off his forehead, your greatest weakness and he knew it. He was wearing a leather jacket over a dark gray t-shirt and ripped black jeans. He looked both delicious and so sweet you got a toothache from your amazing boyfriend dressing up and getting all this just to spend time with you.

When you burst into tears he panicked and dropped to his knees in front of you, dragging your hands from your face with one hand while the other brought your chin up and wiped the free flowing tears.

“Oh baby, please don’t cry! I wanted to make you happy. Oh please.” Hoseok stood from the floor and threw off his heavy jacket before sweeping you up in his arms. Even though he didn’t look it Hobi was impressively strong. He had given you plenty of late night piggy back rides when you were to tired, or maybe a bit too tipsy, to walk home. He walked over to the messy bed and gently sat you on it.

While your first reaction was to curl up away from him and try to hide, Hobi was having none of it. He laid beside you and pulled you tight into him. With one hand under your face, cupping your cheek, the other was roaming your arm and side, long soothing meant to calm and not incite. He was whispering into your hair, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying. It didn’t even really matter what he was saying though, it was everything else.

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