How I Love You | Kim Namjoon

11

It's another quiet walk back to your room, and you head to the bathroom right away to calm yourself down before you face what could be another fight that would break both of you.

You take a deep breath, not knowing what's waiting for you outside the door, but what you see is something you hadn't expected. There, seated on your side of the bed, is Namjoon, one hand covering his face as his whole body shakes from crying.

Namjoon doesn't cry, not like this. He'd teared up during your wedding but that was it. When you fought those years ago, you remember streaks of silent tears that fell down his face, which he quickly wiped away. But right now, he's sobbing, and you never thought you'd ever know how your husband sounds like when he does.

You realize you've been rendered paralyzed by his cries, and you find your feet and rush towards the bed, kneeling in front of him to cup his face with your cheeks.

"Oh god, Joon," you manage to say.

He faces you, his lips quivering, and you wipe away the tears that keep falling, eventually standing up to cradle his head in your arms. He wraps his arms around your torso, your skin muffling his sound but you feel the wetness seep through your shirt, and you rub his back in hopes it could soothe him the way you know your words never could.

"Your mother, what she said," he chokes out. "Is it true? Did you really take a test?"

"Only because she asked me to," you explain. "I had an upset stomach and vomited while we were on the phone and she mistook it for morning sickness. And my period was late by a few days, and she just... she just kept asking, insisting that I should at least try even with all the reasons I was giving."

You take a deep breath, recalling how it felt purchasing another box and waiting for the result.

"And I did and it was negative and I—"

You pause at his tightened hold on you.

"It really was an upset stomach, and I was also upset at work and the stress probably just delayed my period. I'm so sorry, love. I'm sorry I couldn't—"

"Why didn't you tell me?" He looks up at you. "Even if you didn't think you were pregnant, just the fact that you were even considering taking the test... why didn't you tell me? We tell each other these things, ___. We used to."

"Because we weren't actively trying and I... I didn't want you to hope at the possibility, like I did," you admit. "I didn't want you to feel crushed when it didn't happen, like I did."

"I could've comforted you then. You should've let me," he mumbles, the similar words from last night being uttered again.

"I know, I'm sorry, there was a lot going on and I just wanted to forget about it," you explain. "We can talk about that another time, if we want to try again."

He looks back at you, as if your words had not affected him, as his eyes remain glassy, afraid, defeated.

"Am I losing you?" He asks, the words breaking your heart into pieces. "Have I neglected you so much that I'm not realizing that I'm losing you?"

"Oh, love, of course not," you find your voice. "You're not, you won't. I'm right here," you say, sitting next to him.

"But where am I? Where have I been?"

You're unsure how to answer, and it's him who does it for you.

"In your bed? Next to you? But I'm not really, am I? I've been... there but not there with you. I'm losing track of dates, of times, of events, of you. I'm hearing but I'm not listening, thinking but not processing. Have I made promises that I didn't keep? That I'd forgotten? That I should've made in the first place?"