After a half hour of strolling along mostly silently, each lost in their own thoughts yet still connected by their joined hands, the two of them were turning down yet another glorious walking path when the tea she had enjoyed at the cafe came calling. While she ran off to the ladies’ restroom, Namjoon opened to a random page in the book, still eager to learn more about this fascinating girl. And perhaps to discover a little something about himself in the process.
“Dear Joonie.
“You are precious.
“You carry something valuable, something so special. Keep chasing your destiny. Keep feeding girls like me hope. Keep reminding us how precious we are. Remind us that someone loves us. Remind us each that we are a limited edition.”
Namjoon smiled to himself. How he wished he’d had these letters three years ago. From the beginning. When she’d first begun writing to him. It would have been priceless to know someone was hearing him.
He flipped to the next page. Apparently that letter had been written after a hard day.
“Dear Joonie.
“Am I enough? This is the question that plagues me. It eats away at my soul late at night when I am too exhausted to sleep. I’ve tried my best, yet I feel like I should have given another pound of my flesh to the task at hand. I was so wiped out, I longed for sleep, yet I put another three hours of studying and working in, trying to be my best, trying to appease all the voices shouting at me.
“Yet now as I lie down, spent, sleep evades me. Perhaps it’s because I know that my dreams will be full of striving too, and I just can’t meet them yet. They won’t be dreams; they’ll be nightmares in which the clock is always ticking too fast and I’ve never enough time to accomplish all that I must do. My mind and my heart cry out for rest, for relief. Yet I just stare at my ceiling as the headlights from a hundred cars slide along my walls, entering through my bedroom window. Their light does nothing to soothe my festered soul.
“So many people expect so much from me. My parents expect me to be at the top of my class because they know I’m capable of it. But sometimes I just get so tired of trying, Joonie. Yet their expectations keep me going. And my teachers. Most of them adore me, but I know that with that adoration comes an expectation that I will fulfill their dreams for me. What about my own ambitions, Joonie? Don’t they count?
“Yet I work harder. Stay longer bent over my books till my eyes hurt. Hunkered down over my computer until my fingers bleed. Will I ever achieve their goals for me? Will I ever find the summit of this mountain of self-effort, so I can rest as I slide down the other side? Or will I discover that it is a cliff’s razor-sharp edge too, and I have to descend as carefully and as diligently as I ascended?
“Oh, Joonie, I am so tired.”
That was exactly how he felt right now. He was on break. He was home with his family. For the first time in so long, on his birthday. Yet part of him was already anticipating the return to work. Way too much work. Work that had paid dividends. Work that had made him a roaring success. Work that had cost him so much. And still cost him so much each and every day. It cost too much effort. Too much sleep. Too much peace. Too much endurance. But he was doing it. He was making it. He had nothing in his life but work and the boys. And their management team. But, hey, he was on top of the world, wasn’t he?
But the top of the world was a much harder place to be than he had ever imagined. The air was thin up here. There was no breathing room. He agreed with her. It was a terrifying place to be. He was always juggling so many things that his whole life had become a balancing act. He had to please his manager, his photographers, his groomers, ARMY. All those fans out there who were watching his every move, memorizing his every word, taking notes on his every glance. It was so nerve-wracking! He had to be on, 24/7! He couldn’t close his eyes. Not for a second. Someone would take note. Someone else would criticize. Someone would be disappointed. And the whole blessed thing might come grinding to a dead halt. And then what would he and the boys do? They had almost disbanded once. They could find themselves in that place once again. Right?
And he couldn’t let the boys down. They counted on him for so much. Bless Jungkook and Tae for working hard to learn English. They could see the pressure making cracks in him. They were working hard themselves to prevent any more fissures from forming in his soul. Still, he felt responsible for them all, even Jin, Yoongi, and Hobi. He grinned crookedly at himself. Sometimes he felt like the oldest, like their image rested on his shoulders, for his was the voice that most represented them all to the world. His were the eyes absorbing all the comments written in English. His were the ears sifting through the interviewers’ true motives. His heart was the beating instrument that protected them all from the land mines the media was constantly secretly planting around them, hoping for a misstep, looking for a shocking tidbit to share with the world.
Namjoon shook his head. We’re all just a bunch of kids still. None of us had a normal teenage experience. Especially not Jungkook. Nor Tae nor Jimin. Even now, we have no idea what it’s like to be an average twenty-something. We’re on top of the world. It’s the scariest place we can be.