Even as he is jumping on the couch and walking towards one end to the other when his feet were vacuumed by the robot vacuums that he himself bought. You wiped your face down.
“I get it now, why you said it was scary, I get it now,” Hoseok yelped.
You puffed your cheeks at him. You’re pointing the remote at the screen, swiping on the Netflix, before you paused to look at him. He was sitting beside you, hiding his face behind the striped cushion.
“Are you sure you want to watch this with me? You’re absolutely sure?” your brows knitted as you grew doubtful. There’s a number of movies on your watch list but you had been wanting to watch Alice in Borderline since you heard about it. It stirred your interest, knowing that your friends have a knack of watching good movies. Your husband must have watched the thriller without you because he looks traumatized. You feel sorry for him and tell him again that he doesn’t have to do this with you if he doesn’t want to.
“What do you want me to do? Sleep in the room alone while you watch it here?? That’s even more scary, sleeping alone…” he pouted. Voice muffled, hugging the cushion like his life depends on it.
“I’m strong…” he said, enthusiastically. Before he tracts back into the cushion, putting on his defensive mode.
You laced your fingers with him and leaned your head on his shoulders. He jumps at every scare, and hurls the cushions he could get his hands on, then screams his head off when the jump scares arrives. You’re so different from him. He doesn’t really like coffee and only drinks them when he needs to. He would walk into the room and be friends with everyone just by smiling. And in communication, he would much rather speaking out front on what he wants. He is excellent at reading the room but unlike you, he doesn’t dwell on the softer side and the easier way of solving things, instead, he focused on solving the problem and it didn’t matter what it looked to others. His goals are immaculate and crystal clear. He will fight hard for what he wants and even if he is shaken by the pernicious stage of it all, he will give it, his entirety.
The way that he is fierceless, firm and throttling towards his goals are admirable. He might be pulling your PJs by the sleeves in an attempt to hide from the monster in the screen, sweating profusely and chanting your name; but this much is true, he would do anything for you.
You remember it so clearly, these hands that hold you so tight, his wedding band shimmering in the dim light, was the same that rainy night. Those veins protruding, wet from the heavy rain, dripping down his chin and determination in his eyes--as he held the door open. Leather jacket, black shirt, black damaged jeans. His black Chelsea boots marched forward, had you cornered on the wall behind the door. Pinched your chin so gently, his lips ghosting over your cheek, to finally trail down on your lips. Strange it was that it wasn’t him that was shivering, it was you. He had his eyes fixated on the view of your Cupid’s bow.
“Do I believe in forever, you say?” he smirked against you, “Of course no.”
He clasped your lips with his own, exhaling hard through his nostril and moaning in your mouth while his hand ravages all over your body. He shifted his hand down your arms to the phone you’re holding and left them on the kitchen counter.
“I don’t want to pretend anymore,” he growled.
It’s really hard to string that Hoseok to this one. When he gestures for you to keep your arm around him so he sleeps better. When he pulls the chair you sat on so you could be closer. When he writes little love notes on every surface you touch. When he sends bouquets of flowers at work or at home. When he wanted a couple shoes that matched the couple shirts with the couple phone case. When he stole a spoon of your ice cream when you stole his. When he threw glances across the room at you and looked away smiling.
Or when he insisted on driving you home that late night in September after a barbecue party when you looked like a mess and smelled like charcoal. When he dropped on one knee to tie up your shoelaces in the middle of the mall. When he spent his day searching for the laptops with you even when he doesn’t know much about technology and was texting Yoongi at every tech terms he had never heard of.
It’s easy to dismiss the love you are poured with when you’re the one receiving. It’s easy to look over the details of the meticulous feeling one would carefully thread.
Hoseok was, to put simply, a tapestry torn at the seams. His family was not supportive of his passion for dancing. He ran away at a young age to fight. On Christmas, he was asked why he didn’t return home and he swiftly walked away without answering. The answer was, he didn’t know where home actually was. A home was supposed to make you feel safe, to make you feel at ease, protected and loved for being yourself. His home was anything but that. He was at war with himself for the longest time. Left his emotion behind for as long as he knew. Filled with ambitions from early on, Hoseok had nothing to lose, or so he thought.
You could not have interfered at the worst time. He danced till his body broke. The sores and bruises that covered his body, they were the badges he wore. As he lay motionless on the hospital bed, tears trailed down the tails of his eyes, staring helplessly on the ward’s ceiling from the pain he couldn’t speak of, he whispered, “I can’t do this anymore.”
The loudest whisper you’ve heard him let out.
“What are you saying, Hoseok?” you uncrossed your arm and sped to the side of his bed, fingers clawing on the edges, “Have you not seen yourself on stage? You’re the happiest on it… You forget everything else, even this pain.”
You clasped Hoseok’s knuckle, looking hopeful into his eyes, “You were born to be on stage, you’re a performer, I refuse to let you feel like you’ve turned every stone. You haven’t. You mustn't give in… Pain is temporary.”
Life is regret. Life is all about regretting the choices we didn’t make. Life is also about accepting the regret we feel from the same choices. And if it means to tell yourself over and over again, that this is good for you, one day, you might eventually believe them. For all that you care is if when the storm comes and swept everything you know away, it’s Hoseok’s hand you want to hold on to, it’s Hoseok’s eyes you want to get lost in and it’s his voice you want to live on for. Maybe that’s what soulmate is. Maybe soulmate is a person created by the universe specifically for you, for you to fight head on with, for you to nurture, for you to lose your mind at so they can put you back together. Maybe soulmate isn’t the perfect mirror of you, but a perfect contender for you. Maybe he is the one that showed you what exactly was wrong about you so you can be better. Maybe he is the one that calls you out on your mistakes so you could fix them. Maybe he is also the one who pulls you close when you’ve pushed him away. Maybe he is the one who wipes the tears he puts on you. Maybe he is the one that puts a smile on your face when the world is against you. Maybe he is the person who would fight the world for your hand.
The concept of soulmate is again, mesmerizing. To know just how much the universe cared enough for you that they conspired to create a soul for you, from the beginning of time. They say their names are written on your palms when you were conceived. With these dazzling thoughts, you took Hoseok’s hand in yours, examining each line that crosses its path.
“What is it?” He lets you, he himself munching on cereals.
You zoomed into his palm more, tracing the lines.
“They say, the name of the soulmate is written on the palms, I am trying to see if mine is on yours,” you monotonously explained. Hoseok stares at your head and slowly, but surely, a smile grows on his face. His cheeks rose and his ears turned red. He didn’t fight you off and even encouraged you on it.
“Do you see it? Is it in english or kanji? Hangul?” He teased you.
You dropped his hand when you realised that he was joking with you. He protests,
“Why did you put them down? Keep holding on to my hand…”
“I had a really good dream last night, but because you’re being mean to me, I am not going to tell you what it was…” you told him in a sing-song voice.
He pesters you. Pouting and poking your sides relentlessly. You usually share with him your strangest of dreams. Sometimes they are the exact opposite of what happened. But the way he listened, and the face that he wore always encourages you. Hoseok listens with his whole body.
“I dreamt of you in the kitchen. You have a baby draped over your shoulder and it was crying, and you were cooing it gently,” you told him.
He paused for the longest time. He took one spoon of milk from the cereal and sip on them slowly. He lifts his face up, thinking and glancing over the clock on the wall and he said, with a serious face and tone,
“Are you sure it wasn’t Mickey*?”
.
