Namjoon paces in his bedroom, his frown deepening and deepening.

I have to tell them, Namjoon nods, I have to tell them my dream.

Last night, Namjoon's father told him how he was boasting about Namjoon's grades at work.

"I told them you'll be an excellent member of society! Doctor? Lawyer? Anything you want!" His father had cheered proudly, beaming at his silent son.

Namjoon spent the next day at school stressed about what they're going to say. He knows he's not worried for no reason. The last time a rapper appeared on the television during dinner, his father had pretended to vomit.

"What a pathetic human being! I bet he couldn't get a real job if he tried!"

"Kids these days, they're so lazy," His mother had responded.

The more he thinks about it, the more nervous he gets. What will they do? Smack him? Kick him out? Force him into university? The thoughts are endless. They taunt him as he studies and follow him around at every waking moment.

Now, as he stares at his bedroom door, he wants to disappear. His hands are shaking, and his heart is racing – too fast. He can feel the panic attack coming, but he can't do anything to stop it. Should he just be what his parents want him to be?

He stands and walks over to his bedroom door. His vision is narrowed and he's starting to feel dizzy. He's getting tingling and numbness in his hands and feet. His sweaty hands grasp the doorknob and open it. After taking a deep breath, he pushes it all the way. He peers down the hallway. He can see his mother cooking as his father recites his horrible day at work.

Namjoon's father is a lawyer, and his mother is an accountant. Well paying, high stature jobs. He gulps, watching them talk animatedly as he tries to calm his aching chest. It's not working.

He takes another deep breath and slowly closes the door behind him before making his way down the hallway.

He wishes for a hole to swallow him up. Anything, any excuse to never mention this matter.

But he's always known this day will come. The quicker he gets the hard part over and done with, the quicker he can persuade them to love him for who he is.

He reaches the end of the hall, staring at the two of them with wide, fearful eyes. His mother looks up.

"Joonie? What's wrong?" His mother gasps as she walks around the bench to get to him, interrupting his father halfway through his story.

It's now or never. Here it goes.

"I need to talk to you both," Namjoon smiles weakly. They both stare at him for a moment, looks of confusion plastered to their faces. His father frowns and nods. As Namjoon's mother leads him to the lounge room, he catches sight of himself in a mirror. He is pale and sweaty. He looks traumatized as his hair sticks to his forehead and his body shakes.

Calm down, Namjoon frowns at his reflection, you're getting yourself worked up. You can do this!

His mother sits him down before joining his father on the other couch.

"What's happened? Is it school? Have you been hurt?" His mother lists, sounding more and more hysterical.

"Let the boy talk," Namjoon's father rolls his eyes, giving Namjoon a humorous look, "Come on before dinner starts burning,"

Namjoon looks at his shaking fingers. He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Now that he's here, he can't find the right words.

He decides to start off with something simple to introduce the topic.

"I have decided on what I want to do with my life," Namjoon states as if he's forcing the words out of his mouth. Namjoon's father's smile slips from his face. He seems to understand where Namjoon's anxiety is coming from.

"Oh, that's great news! Where are we sending you?" His mother beams. She hasn't noticed what his father has.

"A place called Bighit Entertainment," Namjoon opens his phone to show them the website, "Here,"

He passes them the phone and waits.

His father's expression becomes impassive as he reads the screen. His mother's smile slides down her face, replaced with horror and uncertainty.

"What... what do you want to do here?" His mother smiles weakly, "Are they looking for... office workers? Or a higher position?"

"He wants to be a musician," His father spits bitterly, "He wants to put make-up on and dance half naked on stage. He wants to sell his soul for a scrap of fame before going broke before he even finishes his twenties,"

His mother gasps, her hands covering her mouth.

"Is this true?" She whimpers.

Namjoon croaks as his worst fears come true. His father looks ready to hit him and his mother looks like she's about to cry. He ignores these feelings, stone-cold intellect coming to his aid.

"To be specific, I want to be a rapper," He explains, "Rappers almost always have a platform where they can express complicated issues to a big audience. Basically, people are more willing to listen to a political song over a politician,"

"Don't talk rubbish!" His father yells, slamming his fist onto the coffee table, "You want to swear and get involved in sex and drugs!"

"That's not it..."

"No! We can't send you here!" His mother wails as a few tears fall down her face, "Why don't you go to university?"

"Mum, Dad, this is what I want to do. Please..."

"I thought you were smart! I thought you were going to join my firm!" His father grumbles.

"Yes! Become a lawyer!" His mother chants.

They both shout instructions and advice, ignoring him and anything he wants to say. They explain how it will be a bad idea and that it won't work out. They also exclaim how much drugs and sex are involved with musicians. Gambling, money, drugs, sex, and on and on until they finally calm down enough to ask him for his opinion.

"What do you think, Joonie? Just become a lawyer like your father," his mother smiles weakly, sniffling a little.

"Yes, forget this nonsense," His father shoves Namjoon's phone into his lap, "Let's go have dinner,"

Both of his parents stand and head to the kitchen. Namjoon clenches his fist, trying to control his emotions. But, in the absence of fear and anxiety, anger has come boiling up inside him, spilling out.

"No," Namjoon mutters, staring at the table with his fists in his lap. His mother and father rush to the couch, standing in front of him.

"What did you say?" His father grunts.

"I said no!" Namjoon yells, standing up, "I will become a rapper, and I have no intentions of joining a law firm!"

Namjoon's mother screams and everything goes momentarily white. Namjoon falls onto the couch, clutching his jaw as tears pool in his eyes. His father glares down at him, rubbing his now sore fist with satisfaction. Namjoon's jaw throbs as sharp pain pinch his sinuses and head, making him feel dizzy and nauseous all over again. His father points down at him.

"If you want to be a drug fucked musician..." He points to the door, "Then you can leave,"

"Dad... please," Namjoon chokes back a sob.

"I have no son," He glares down at him for a moment, before turning and storming to his room, slamming the door so hard it vibrates the house. This sound triggers Namjoon to clamber to his feet.

I have to get out of here.

He takes off down the hall, a plan already forming in his foggy mind.

"Joonie, just apologize, hm?" His mother whines as she follows him down the hallway, "Just go to law school, okay?"

"I meant every word I said," Namjoon snaps, his heart breaking as he looks down at her tear-soaked face, "And so did he,"

Namjoon bursts into his room and starts throwing his things into a duffle bag.

"Joonie? What are you doing?"

"You heard him!" Namjoon spins around glaring at his mother, "If I want to follow my dreams I must leave,"

He rushes around the room, collecting his school clothes, his sleeping clothes, and his toiletries, along with many other items he uses often. His heart is still beating, but now that the hard part is over his mind is clearer.

Once he's finished, he looks up to find his mother gone. His head is throbbing, but not as much as the pit of dread in his diaphragm. He heads out, grabbing his things from the bathroom as he goes. When he reaches the lounge room, he finds his mother bustling around the kitchen. She ignores him as he heads to the front door and pulls on his shoes.

"Bye, Mum," He murmurs. She doesn't respond. She is acting like he is not even there.

Swallowing his tears, he pushes open the door and steps into the cold night air, feeling surprisingly free.

. . . . .

"That bad, huh?" Yoongi sighs. He is leaning against the doorframe of his front door, frowning at the sweaty, anxious boy.

"Is it okay if I stay with you for a while?" Namjoon pleads, putting his duffle bag and school bag down out of exhaustion.

Namjoon doesn't live too far from Yoongi, but far enough that walking is tiring. With an empty stomach and anxiety coursing through his veins? Namjoon is ready to pass out.

"Ma!" Yoongi calls over his shoulder as he picks his bags up, "Come here! Quick!"

Yoongi's mother comes rushing into the doorway, looking frustrated.

"What? What is it?"

"Could you help me bring Namjoon into the lounge room?" Yoongi asks kindly. His mother looks down at him and gasps.

"What happened? Why is he like this?" She bustles as she helps guide him into the house.

"Exhaustion I think," Yoongi responds as he follows her in, "He lives about an hour from here,"

"That's not that far," she tsks.

"I don't think he's eaten, and these bags are heavy," Yoongi shoves the bags into the hallway.

His mother eyes the bags, frowning a little. Yoongi's father jumps off the couch to help.

"Get him some water," He murmurs, checking Namjoon's pulse. Yoongi's father has a lot of first-aid training. He trained after Yoongi's mother went to the hospital when Yoongi first started middle school. He touches Namjoon's jaw gingerly, sighing at the already swollen area.

"He'll be fine," Yoongi's father frowns, "A bit dehydrated and I think he's mentally exhausted too,"

"I bet," Yoongi sighs. Both of his parents stand and face him, their faces full of worry and concern.

"What happened?" His father asks.

Yoongi starts to explain Namjoon's predicament and how his family just disowned him for his dreams.

When he is finished, his parents sigh.

"I'm not gonna lie, I wasn't the happiest person in the world when you told me," Yoongi's father grimaces, "But I'd never kick you out like this,"

"So..." Yoongi smiles a little, "Can he stay for a bit?"

Yoongi's mother and father look at each other.

"Do we have room?" His father asks.

"We have plenty," His mother replies, "What about his parents?"

"They obviously don't care,"

"Do we want to get involved?"

"We are not kicking him out!"

"How long would he be here?"

"They finish school soon, so it won't be for a year or anything,"

"I see,"

They nod to each other before slowly turning back to Yoongi.

"I'll help you bring his things up," His mother smiles as she passes him by, grabbing the abandoned bags.

"Help me get him to the room, will you?" Yoongi's father smiles. Yoongi gives him a thankful look in return, before grabbing one of Namjoon's arms.

. . . . .

"I'm sorry for all the trouble," Namjoon grimaces as he follows Yoongi's mother around the kitchen, "Please, let me help with something,"

"Absolutely not!" She snaps, "You've done the dishes and helped Yoongi with his jobs already. If you did any more, you'd be our maid!"

"I don't mind, really," Namjoon begs, "I want to help,"

"Yoongi!" She turns to the amused teenager behind the kitchen island, "Take your crazy friend upstairs!"

"Alright, ma," Yoongi grins as he grabs Namjoon's arm and drags him upstairs into his room.

Namjoon is staying in Yoongi's room in a sleeping bag on the floor. It has only been 3 hours since Namjoon arrived and he's already feeling much better. He looks a little pale, so Yoongi isn't entirely convinced Namjoon is feeling well. But, he's insisted on helping his mother to thank them for the room.

"Don't worry too much about helping out," Yoongi says as they enter his room, "Mum has been working all her life. It's her hobby now,"

"But I'm not even paying them!" Namjoon groans as he sits at Yoongi's desk, "I want to do everything I can to help,"

"Don't worry about it," Yoongi waves his hand, slumping down on his bed. He turns so he is facing Namjoon, "Anyway, there is something I want to talk to you about,"

"What?" Namjoon asks, frowning slightly.

Yoongi goes on to explain the pointless, failed attempt at explaining his situation to Sumi yesterday. By the end of his rant, Namjoon looks grim.

"So? What do you think?"

Namjoon sighs and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looks at Yoongi gravely.

"You can either persuade her to at least try long distance, or you can break up before it gets messy," Namjoon says sternly, looking a little tired of the problem.

"What if I don't want to leave her?" Yoongi snaps, "What if I love her too much to want to ruin all of this?"

"All of this?" Namjoon gestures to Yoongi vaguely, "All of this is already ruined. Your relationship is two people bottling up their emotions to keep the peace and blurting it out when it gets too much. Your relationship is at a stalemate,"

"Shut up!" Yoongi stands up, glaring down at Namjoon.

"No! Listen!" Namjoon stands and pulls Yoongi to the bed so they are sitting beside each other, "You both need to change, a lot. You need to mature if you want a long mature relationship. This, right here?" Namjoon sighs, pointing at Yoongi, "This is unhealthy. You're tearing each other apart,"

Yoongi tugs out of Namjoon's grip, glaring at him as he stands up again.

"Fuck off," He scoffs, "Have you not seen us compared to the other pathetic relationships out there? We are good together!"

"Right now, all you are doing is hurting each other," Namjoon groans, pulling Yoongi back onto the bed, "The only way it's going to work is long distance. For long distance to work you need to sort all of your shit out!"

"That..." Yoongi frowns. As his anger dies down, he feels some of Namjoon's words reaching him. Deep down, he knows he's right. They haven't been able to fix any of their problems. Instead of trying, all they do is push it aside so they don't have to think about the pain. They both have issues – big issues. Long distance will put a strain on those issues. Sumi's jealousy will heighten, and Yoongi's own jealousy will turn into anger. They need to fix those if they want their relationship to work.

After sitting in silence for what feels like hours, Namjoon puts his arm over Yoongi's shoulders. He doesn't say anything, because he has already said what Yoongi needs to hear.

. . . . .

Hoseok grins from ear to ear as his parents cheer loudly, a glass of beer each.

"TO HOSEOK'S DREAMS!" They laugh as they scull the drink, grinning happily. Hoseok takes a gulp of his soft drink, wiggling with happiness as he watches his parents rejoice.

"We are so proud of you," His mother sighs looking a little teary-eyed.

"Better late than never," His father grins, "You'll be a great therapist,"

They spend the night making med student jokes and deciding on the best university for Hoseok to apply to. After a few hours, they decide to send him off to bed.

"Big day of studying tomorrow!"

"We love you, son,"

He grins as he hugs them both and heads to his room. He is still grinning when he reaches the door. But once it closes behind him it slips from his face. He flops onto his bed, staring out of his open window at the distant moon.

He feels deflated, unsure, concerned, disappointed, and worried all at the same time.

"Have I made the right decision?" He asks the moon.

As soon as the career councillor cleared him to have enough grades to get into med school, he ran home and told his parents everything. The exact reason why, the friends who will attend school with him – everything.

But, as the night dragged on a tiny voice started nagging him, whispering unneeded opinions and advice.

Therapy is traumatizing you know.

Do you really want to study more after this?

You don't enjoy medicine!

Why did you jump on this bandwagon?

You don't want to be a therapist!

Hoseok sighs, rolling over and closing his eyes. He pushes the thoughts aside and allows himself to feel more hopeful.

It's a dream... my first dream...

Is it?

He frowns, pushing the thought along with the others.

I can do it!

With that, he drifts off into an uncertain slumber, full of medical prescriptions and crying children. 

(A/N) See ya tomorrow  🫰 🫰 🫰