“I think I may be falling in love.”

I can hear confusion in Hoseok’s voice, “What? With who?”

And that’s when I turn to him and look at him dead in the eye:

“Namjoon.”

As soon as the words escape my mouth, I taste the regret at the tip of my tongue and realize the gravity, the weight of words that I’ve just dropped in the space between us. As I expected, Hoseok’s eyes go as wide as saucers, jaw dropping as he considers me for a long moment. The silence grows progressively stronger with each passing second, and I gulp down all the excuses, all the cowardly things I want to say to save face, and decide that it’s best to let the statement sink in.

So I press my lips together. Looking at him, praying that he’d say something, anything.

But when he finally speaks, I’m more than shocked at his words.

“So you finally realized.”

I blink, “What?”

“You and Namjoon,” Hoseok says, “You finally realized what I was trying to tell you from the beginning.”

“Oh,” The memories jump to the front of my mind as I go through a series of flashbacks, reflecting on the moments where we’d sat together and where Hoseok had first mentioned Namjoon as someone other than my best friend. At that time, I had told him adamantly that it was a ridiculous notion. Taking a step back now, I realize that I had been the stupid one.

“So?” Hoseok’s arms cross over his chest as he ponders over my figure, eyes softening upon noticing the increasing alarm on my face, “What now?”

“I don’t know.” I choke out before looking away in the dimness of the night lights, “Everything’s a mess, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“There’s going to be a lot of hurt and a full ton of tears. You can’t run away from that,” he says, “But maybe it’s all worth it.”

“And maybe it’s best if I just let things be.”

“Then you’re just going to regret it for the rest of your life.”

I turn to him abruptly, emotion tightening like a knot in my chest, “So what if I do? Don’t we all regret something anyway? I don’t see how this is different.”

“It’s your life.” Hoseok snaps, “Are you really going to ignore what makes you happy?”
“Then,” I can feel the strain at the back of my throat. I’m trying so hard not to break down and cry, “Am I really going to hurt all these people just for the sake of my happiness?”

I shake my head, slowly, then more firmly, “I can’t do that, Hoseok. I can’t just put everything on the line.”

“For ’s sake, Yehwa. Can’t you think of yourself first for once?!” He hollers so suddenly that it makes me jump, causes my skin to prickle. I’ve only witnessed Hoseok raise his voice only a few times that I can count on one hand, and no other situation had me as the one being the target.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” His shaking alto is filled with pent up rage, some sort of intense emotion that builds up inside him as though it’s always been there, a wave about to crash, waiting and trying to hold itself back, only to crash when it’s become too much, “Why do you always put yourself on the backburner? You’ll just come to me after everything and tell me how miserable you are when it’s your own damn fault for being so accommodating.”

Tears sting the back of my eyes, but I dare not say a word, for his statement hits a little too close to home. It’s not that I want to put myself on the backburner, nor is it that I want people to pity me.

I don’t want to be a burden.

It’s as though he reads my mind then, for his expression sombers up and he quickly stumbles over an apology, “Yehwa, I didn’t mean that, I--”

“It’s okay,” I look away, unable to look at him in the eye for fear I might break down, “I deserved that.”

And then I burst into tears. It’s the alcohol, I know it is or I wouldn’t be so emotional, wouldn’t be so easily swayed by the tightness of my throat and the way my chest knots up just at the thought of Namjoon with someone else. I feel more than see Hoseok coming closer and wrapping his arms around me, and it’s when I’m cuddled up in his embrace that I let myself go and start bawling my eyes out like I’ve never done before.

Amidst everything that’s going on in my head, there is still the rational part of my brain that’s telling me it’s wrong to be doing such a thing, that it’s wrong to cry and let my walls down when I’m in a public space and threatened by so many strangers that could see what kind of mess I am.

But that small worry is replaced by much bigger waves of emotion, ones that drown out the limited rational, logical part of my physical body, and I almost collapse onto Hoseok as his arms come around me to pat me on the back in an attempt of comfort. And although he’s seen me cry so many times, although he’s been the one who had always been the recipient for my tears and drama, I still feel bad. He doesn’t deserve to have someone run to him all the time, burdening him with their worries when he has his own fair share to deal with.

As I’m sifting through the multiple feelings of guilt that are weighing down on my heart like stones, I don’t hear the sound of the door opening and footsteps approaching until a voice speaks in the background, one that I had definitely wanted to avoid at all costs tonight.

“What’s happening here? Is that Yehwa?”

Namjoon.

It takes me half a second to lurch away from Hoseok’s arms, but it’s too late. Namjoon is already advancing towards us with a purposeful gait, eyes filled with concern, “What’s wrong? What happened to you?”

“N-Nothing,” I slur and stammer at the same time. God knows whether I still have my sanity. My head’s spinning and I can barely walk straight, much less try to get myself out of this situation.

He makes a grab for my arm, “It’s clearly not ‘nothing’ when you’re practically bawling your eyes out.”

I try to shoot Hoseok a look over my shoulder but my brain and my physical body seem to be coming from two different planets, for instead only my head lolls back in despair as I search for his familiar gaze, which I can’t seem to find.

Meanwhile, Namjoon tugs onto my arm again and I stumble against his side. Unwillingly, I feel his warmth and force myself not to collapse into his chest, “Tell me. For whom are you crying this time?”

“No one, I tell you,” I reply, almost bellowing out my answer, “I just-- I need to go home.”

“Not in this condition you’re not.” Namjoon’s grip is firm, without any intention of letting go. I finally gather enough energy to swivel around and send Hoseok a look of alarm, but instead of helping me out, he merely shrugs and gestures a thumbs up with his hand as I’m dragged back into the flat by my best friend.

Traitor, I think to myself, seething at the fact that Hoseok had been there and yet hadn’t even done anything to help me out when I clearly needed it. Or maybe he’d done it on purpose in hopes that it would help things. But it clearly isn’t, not when Namjoon’s still with another woman, and not when I’m still dating Jin.

“Stop.” I try to wriggle myself out of Namjoon’s grasp but he’s too strong. He leads me across the flat and I follow him through the crowd, slithering in and out of bodies and feeling smaller and smaller by the second every time I feel a glance directed my way.

I feel uncomfortable, wanting to cover by face with both hands in an attempt to hide from the attention, but if Namjoon is distraught by it, he doesn’t show on his face. He keeps up a good stride so that I have to scramble and fumble over my steps to keep up with his pace. We finally exit the main doorway and turn into the hall, before he stops short and turns around to face me.

“It hurts,” I moan while rubbing my sore wrist where he had grasped it so tightly, “You didn’t have to be so violent.”

“Tell me, did someone make you cry?” he ignores my statement and I grumble underneath my breath, rubbing the spot with my fingers as I say something about him minding his own business.

He sighs, “Is it Jin again? Was he being an ?”

“No,” I press my lips together. Why does this always have to be about Jin? If anything, Jin has nothing to do with this. The heart of the problem lies within myself and there’s nothing that nobody can do about it.

“Yehwa,” Namjoon takes a step closer, voice softening, “Are you sure everything’s okay? You’ve been acting kind of weird.”

“I’ve been acting weird?” I laugh, but it sounds dry and filled with mockery, “Ha, that’s new. I’m the one that’s been acting weird.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” I press my lips together until they feel numb. When I speak again, I can feel the tension rising in my voice, “Of all people, you should be asking yourself that. You’re the one who turned up at midnight on my doorstep and left at like four in the morning, and then you’re telling me that I’ve been acting weird?”

“I don’t understand—“

“You never did!” I cut him off with a holler, “you never understand anything.”

“Hey, I—“

“Shut up,” i place my hands upon my ears and shake my head from side to side to make as if I couldn’t hear him, “shut up, shut up, shut up!”

“Stop it,” he makes a grab for my arms, pulling them apart even though I struggle against him, forcing my limbs to listen. Unfortunately, his strength surpasses mine and he easily halts my movements. I