spoiledsovls:
…
if only gunwoo could take all the empty time that he had and gave it to his companion– now crying in public in the middle of a cafe. so he tries to hide him, there was no need to be ashamed but growing up as a male had given people the idea that men weren’t able to do so or they would be labeled as emotional. people even compared their crying for them to be a girl, but what was so wrong with that? any gender could cry, how fucked up the world was. he’s experienced this before– when words didn’t quite fit into the beats that he had made. sometimes his ideas would spiral out of control, unable to keep it in his grip. he assumed the other was a student, with books sprawled out to pages that contained information they swore they needed in everyday lives. is this how students felt every single day? how their education system pushed for them to do something that took up hours of their day when there were other things for them to do? chores, homework, work, and everything else in between.
they were human. it was only natural.
a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder as gunwoo sits next to him. a hug, a gentle embrace in order for him to feel better again (even if it was temporary.) there’s an apparent frown on gunwoo’s face, the creases on his forehead deepening. “don’t worry, you’ll pull through.” he smiles, patting the stranger’s shoulder now. “i know we don’t know each other, but, we need this sometimes. you know what we also need? a break. science says that your brain can’t really pick up on things after twenty minutes of focus. if i wanna push it, i’ll say about forty minutes, then you take about a ten to fifteen minute break and you should be okay.” another pat before he stands up to leave him for a brief moment. hopefully he doesn’t think that he’s gone.
he comes back with a coffee, unsure of what he wanted so he bought a chai latte. “hopefully you like this.” he passes the drink to him, listening to the last comment. “ah.. yeah. i think we’ve experienced this kind of overwhelming stress at least once. it sucks.” he keeps his lips in a tight line. “but that means you’re not alone, you know? that it’s possible to persevere.”
crying in public has never been much of a problem for kyungsoo. even since childhood, he has felt more than his heart could contain sometimes. the space between his lungs is finite, enclosed by soft tissue and interstitial fluid—all so very human, yet it seems on occasions like these that he carries the cosmos in him. stars ready to implode, asteroids colliding, and ravenous black holes. a universe travels and swells in his pulse, but kyungsoo can’t expand to accommodate it.
luckily, he doesn’t have to bear it alone. in the stranger’s embrace, he feels the stars and comets migrate through the other’s warmth. gravity rights itself and balances the gradient; supernovae stabilise and calm to a hush. finally, the storms that had been drowning out his throughts die down enough for him to hear the conversations around them and the obnoxious drone of the coffee grinder behind the counter. it takes him a second or two, but kyungsoo eventually finds the sense to return the hug, albeit weakly. crying, sniffling, hiccuping—all of these, he can do in front of strangers, but affection? that’s always been a challenge even with the people he’s close to. (yet his hands so often feel restless, cold, forlorn in the absence of a companion.)
“you’ll pull through,” the stranger tells him, and kyungsoo is inclined to believe him. those same words would never sound right on his own tongue, but hearing it from someone else, someone who isn’t privy to his litany of shortcomings, makes the possibility that much more plausible. if he stops for breaks and forgives himself, maybe he can get through the semester. yes, that’s what he’ll do. sniffling softly, kyungsoo uses the tissue to wipe his cheeks dry again, then blows his nose. he must look a mess now, face splotchy, eyes puffy. it must be nothing new to any other student in the vicinity, but for a moment it truly felt like the end of the world. how preposterous, the universe tuts, to still be acting like a child at this age.
kyungsoo tosses the tissue into a nearby bin when the stranger returns with a warm drink, which earns a quiet oh in response. he’s endured enough embarrassment for a lifetime, but perhaps a bit of luck got mixed in with this stranger. “thank you. i like lattes,” he confesses after taking a sip, cheeks still flushed but lips split into a smile now. “you’re really good at this, helping. sorry for, uh, all of this. just classes finally getting t’me, y’know? or well, maybe you don’t. i mean— you seem like you’ve got everything under control, is what i mean. you’re, like, really cool...”












