JUNG HOSEOK WAS ANGRY at America. Actually, he was angry at himself for having fallen victim to the luxuries that the American Dream promised him. If he had turned the other cheek, if he hadn't rushed into getting a plane ticket half a day away from his homeland, then he wouldn't have been stuck manning the cash register of a 24-hour mart with a salary that barely allowed him to buy aspirin. To get rich is glorious. What a joke that had turned out to be. Perhaps, if he hadn't chosen to leave Korea, he would be in university by now. Granted, he would be majoring in a less than exciting course, maybe medicine, maybe law but anything would be better than this hell hole that he was stuck in. Pride prevented him from booking a ticket back home where the disappointment of his family awaited him, probably already predicting his failure.
These are the thoughts that revolves around his head as he chews on the fading pink gum and blows a small bubble, bringing his lips around the bubble and swallowing it before it could pop. He heaves a loud sigh for what seems like the hundredth time that day.
America had promised him a dream like no other, one dominated by sports cars, mansions and foreign models hanging off his arm. But this was the cold, gripping reality and he couldn't get lost in his reverie because there was a damn leakage somewhere on the roof and it made an annoying sound when the water plopped down to the floor. Suppressing the urge to scream his guts out, he clenched his jaw when the familiar crowd of customers walked in boisterously into the tiny convenience store an hour past midnight.
They were the same teenage girls that seemed to have a creepy interest in him. He learned on their second visit that they were fanatics of the Asian culture, gushing about Korean music and dramas or Japanese anime. It wouldn't bother him as much when they used god-awful connotations of his language if they didn't try to flirt with him every chance they got, pressing against the counter and fluttering their trimmed eyelashes up at him. He tried to hold back his wince as he saw the pale face thanks to foundation that was three shades lighter than the girl's skin tone.
"I'm gay."
He hadn't meant to blurt it out- okay, that was a lie. He had every intention of exposing himself so that he could get the girls off his back.
"What?" The one in the middle stood with her jaw hanging open.
"I like dick. Like you." His accent became more prominent with every sentence. "Please find other Korean guy to center your attention around. I am very much gay. Too gay. The gay-est person you going to meet. Re-"
"Okay! We get it! Don't say 'gay' again." Another girl shrieked, and soon, they were walking out of the store with distraught looks on their faces.
A chuckle sounded from a couple feet away, and when Hoseok turned his head, he found a boy with blonde hair smirking slightly at him.
"Do you sell cigarettes here?" If Hoseok was surprised that the boy spoke fluent Korean, he didn't show it. If anything, he looked at the boy in the mirror at the back while getting a packet of cigarettes and then hummed. He did look like he was from Korea.
"So, how long have you been living here?" The blonde boy asked.
Hoseok hesitated, before sighing. "A year. How about you?
"Five very long years. How long did it take to figure out that it wasn't all that you dreamed about?" He snorted out.
"Probably the first week."
"That has to be some kind of a record, my friends and I took at least a month."
"There's a group of misfit, piss poor Koreans in America? That should be a Tumblr aesthetic, don't you think?"
He laughed, pushing out a hand towards Hoseok. "I'm Min Yoongi."
"Jung Hoseok." He shook Yoongi's hand, marveling over the way that it seemed to fit just snugly into his own.
As Hoseok rang up the cigarettes that Yoongi payed for in cash, he pondered over asking him to stay. Pushing away his hesitation, he smiled slightly at the shorter boy. "If you're not doing anything, you could stay. Keep me company, since practically nobody comes into this shit place, anyways. Nobody other than you."
"And the Korea-boos. Don't forget them."
Without answering, Yoongi walked over the counter so that the both of them seemed like clerks in the small, convenience store. He took a seat in the wobbly chair that sat to the corner and opened up the pack that he had just bought, pushing it towards Hoseok with a small raise of the eyebrows, asking him silently if he wanted any to which Hoseok shook his head no. Shrugging, he pulled a lighter from his pocket, setting light to one end of the cigarette which he loosely clutched between his index and middle finger.
"What brought you here?" Hoseok asked, leaning against the counter so that he was facing the sitting boy.
A slow smile curved his lips, as he was mocking himself. "Wanted to pursue music, producing in particular but I would have been happy with anything really. Now, I work at some gas station because America is a misleading bitch."
"I wanted to do dance, but clearly that didn't work out." He gestured around the dingy, old store.
"Man, fuck America." Yoongi cursed, taking another long drag of the cigarette.
"Fuck America." Hoseok nodded, repeating the words as to voice his support.
Releasing sighs at the same time, both boys stared at each other as if they had been friends their entire lives.
"Why don't you go back?" Yoongi asked curiously.
Hoseok scoffed, a cold huff to show how fed up he was of the entire thing. "I won't even return if I was on the brink of death. My family wasn't exactly the most supportive when I wanted to pursue dance and I can already imagine the disappointment when I say I didn't make even it in the land of opportunity."
The other boy nodded in understanding, biting his lip when Hoseok reciprocated the question back at him. "There's nothing to go back to." Although, he didn't elaborate, Hoseok didn't prod further. He understood that it wasn't something that the boy was going to give away so easily to someone he had just met.
The two of them spend the next three hours talking. Talking about what they missed, talking about what they hated, about what they longed for, just talking life that made Hoseok feel like maybe, he wasn't as alone as he thought he was in this foreign land. Little by little, they came to know each other's stories, their dreams and aspirations and this was a beautiful moment; two misfit people who had completely lost hope becoming friends, or maybe even more.
