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XXX - BRIGHTER BY YOUR SIDE

CHAPTER THIRTY—BRIGHTER BY YOUR SIDE

NAMJOON'S NERVOUS TENDENCIES stemmed from multiple different sources, depending on who you asked.

If you asked his best friend, the answer would be something along the lines of, "That kid can't stand conflict or confrontation—unless it's directed at me, of course."

His sister would probably blame it on the fact that he chose to keep his nose stuck in a book rather than in the real world—so much so that he didn't even know how to behave around real people, since he was often too nervous to start even the simplest of conversations.

His girlfriend would probably deny any accusations of him being "too nervous" at first, before eventually agreeing, but claiming that his endless string of ramblings and anxious glances were endearing more than anything else. Then she might say something about how he just worried so much about keeping others happy that he forgot to take care of himself from time to time.

The most accurate answer, however, would come from Namjoon himself. He would tell you that it was simply the way that he was. And that was okay.

That didn't mean he could avoid speaking up forever, though.

The reality of this was setting in hard and strong as he stood on the tile floor of his kitchen, back in his childhood home in Ilsan. His parents were seated side by side on the bar stools, their gazes locked on him as he worked to push down the anxiety that rose in his chest.

"You want to change your major?" His father's question hung in the air, confusion lacing his words, reflecting the expression of knit brows and pursed lips. His mother's face mirrored that of his father's.

"Yes." Namjoon's voice squeaked when he replied, and he scolded himself inwardly before clearing his throat and trying again. "Yes, I do. From education to psychology."

"Since when?" His father, rubbed the top of his head, eyes narrowed.

"Well, since the beginning of last semester, in the fall," Namjoon replied. "Remember when I brought up how much I liked the class?"

His parents nodded, exchanging glances with one another.

"That was kind of my way of hinting at the fact that I wanted to make the switch," Namjoon explained. "It seemed like it upset you guys, so I just dropped it. But I can't—I can't do that anymore. I've finally found something that I want to do. And as much as I want your support, this time, I think that I'll have to do something for me. I'm really sorry if it upsets you, that's literally the last thing I want to do, but also I totally get it if you are upset—"

"Namjoon-ah, stop talking," his mother cut him off sharply, raising her hand. Eyes wide, Namjoon's mouth clamped shut. "What are you going on about? Why wouldn't we support you?"

He paused, unsure of whether or not he had heard her correctly. "Because . . . I thought you guys wanted me to be a professor?"

"Because we thought you wanted to be a professor!" His mother sighed in exasperation, sliding a hand down her tired face. "Son, that's all you've ever said you wanted to do, so we took your word for it and encouraged you along. I couldn't care less if you choose to become a professor or psychologist or a florist or a janitor—as long as you're doing what you want to do. All you had to do was explain yourself to us. Why did you wait so long to talk to us about this?"

Namjoon was speechless, mouth opening and closing several times as he searched for the words to say. He had spent so much time convincing himself that he had to pursue a degree in education to make his parents proud of him that he hadn't even considered the alternative; that they truly didn't care about what he chose to pursue. They just cared about him.