You Infire Me

Chapter Twenty-One: Talk of the Small Town

"Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all."
— Emily Dickinson

You'd never known it until this moment, but Hunsaker was a town of gossips. As soon as it was rumored that rap king and k-pop superstar Min Yoongi was dating that nerdy-but-cute senior in the English program, all of campus and Main Street seemed to erupt in whispers. You'd been spotted holding hands on a coffee date, studying together on a couch at the library (and sitting way too close for two people who were "just friends"), and stealing kisses under the flower-dotted trees in the quad. Someone had even made an Instagram page entitled "Suga and his Sweetheart" dedicated to posting paparazzi-style pictures of you two. It was like you had a small band of fans—people supportive of and invested in your relationship, like Bradgelina proponents or Anidala shippers. You thought it was cute and harmless.

Bianca, ever your concerned fierce protector, did not.

"You and Yoongi are being stalked," she proclaims over breakfast one chilly April morning.

"We are not," you say through a mouthful of toast, drawing your eyebrows together in reconsideration. "Well, maybe we are. But I don't know, it's kind of nice, to be honest. I feel like, after all these years, Hunsaker's finally noticed me. Well, Hunsaker beyond the English department."

"Whatever, then." Bianca sighs before insisting, "But I still think it's an invasion of your privacy."

You shrug but add, "Think about what it would be like if we were at some major university in a big city. BTS is huge. There would be reporters and paparazzi—like, real paparazzi—following us everywhere. I wouldn't know what to do. I mean, I adore Yoongi, I'm not sure if I'd be able to handle it."

Bianca reassures you with words that kind of go in one ear and out the other. She gets up, washes her cereal bowl, and jumps in the shower. You take a sip of your tea and glance outside at the flower petals flying on the crisp spring morning breeze, allowing yourself to simply feel content with your life for once. Perhaps for the first time. You breathe in deeply, exhaling your gratitude. Gratitude for your classes—they're going well. Gratitude for your roommates—they've been really sweet. And, of course, gratitude for Yoongi—you're finally enjoying a college relationship, and Yoongi's been the perfect boyfriend. Your life is the stuff of campus crush dreams.

Of course, life is never one hundred percent perfect, and there's a major wrench in your happiness: your imminent graduation. And what lies behind it: your future. The misty, fuzzy, cloudy rest of your life.

It's the knot in your heartstrings that keeps getting caught in your chest and throat, causing the physical sensation of tightness, and sometimes even of burning. You'd do anything to untangle it, and you've tried. You've workshopped your résumé, going so far as creating different versions for different kinds of positions. And you've applied to plenty of jobs. (No news back yet, except a few rejections.) You've even applied to a graduate program: a Masters of English Literature at New York University. You've covered your bases. Now for the hard part:

Being patient.

After getting ready for the day, you head on over to Yoongi's apartment, like you do every Saturday. It's a long-ish walk, but you never mind it. Walking presents an opportunity to mull around in your brain, yes, but your thoughts while walking seem to be much clearer, much more logical. There's something about fresh mountain air that chases away negativity.

You reach his door, but just as you're about to knock, it opens.

"Hey," he says with a smirk, leaning against the doorframe. He's in a white, rather thin t-shirt and his classic ripped black jeans. His hair is wet, and you can smell salon shampoo and aftershave on him. Fresh out of the shower.