Frustration
Cute.
You are too cute; I want to squeeze your cheeks.
You are too cute like a baby.
But men want a sexy lady as a partner, not a cutie patootie.
Change your dressing style baby to look hot.
Aww hot red, hot pink, and even black suits like a mother dressed up her baby girl for a dress matching occasion.
Look at your cute fingers baby, who will put an engagement ring on it. It looks good while holding a chocolate bar.
The frustration builds within me, a mixture of anger and helplessness. Why, I wonder, must I conform to their standards of attractiveness? Why must I transform myself into someone unrecognisable, all for the sake of being deemed desirable?
Today marks my senior crush’s birthday, a day that brings both excitement and anxiety. To put it more precisely, he’s the epitome of handsome, a guy who effortlessly captures every girl’s attention. His popularity among girls is unparalleled; with a mere snap of his fingers, he can make them swoon. Yes, he’s undeniably hot, a fact not lost on anyone in our school. It seems like every girl is practically drooling over him.
I was simply discussing what I will dress up with Jimin, my bestie. Then Hoseok’s so-called dance partners and his fangirls came to me and bullied me like hell. But Hoseok himself invited me to join this evening.
I hold back tears, my fists clenched in frustration, vowing silently to resist their words, to find strength. But I can’t. I left the place immediately and came home.
But I couldn’t face my mom with this crying mess. So, I went towards my safest place. Instead, I sought refuge in my sanctuary—the back side of our house. Scaling the wall, I navigated through the small garden and past a familiar tree, until I found myself at the glass door of the window on the first floor. With a determined jump, I managed to slip into his room unnoticed.
“What did you do in college this time?” he asked, his voice calm and composed, not looking up from his book as I entered the room.
I let out a soft whine, feeling a mixture of frustration and despair bubbling inside me. Without a second thought, I wrapped my hands around his neck from behind, seeking comfort and understanding in his familiar presence. “Joonie!!!” I murmured, my voice laced with a plea for support, hoping he would be the anchor I desperately needed in that moment of vulnerability.
Namjoon Pov
I practically share my room with her more than she stays in her own house. Sure, I’m almost two years older, but respect? That concept seems alien to her.
When she was born, I was just a kid myself, but she became my little doll, someone I wanted to protect and play with. We used to play pretend – I was the prince, and she, my princess. As the days passed, I found myself wanting to make that fairytale a reality. But every time I considered approaching her, her eyes clearly told me she wasn’t interested. That assuming rejection hit me deep, leaving me feeling insecure. People would say that when a boy and a girl spend so much time together, love is bound to happen. I even heard whispers from our parents about the possibility of marriage.
But I refused to push her into something she didn’t feel. As we grew older, she started having her crushes, and I became her go-to person for all her gossip. I’d collect information about her crushes just to see her happy.
She loves me deeply, maybe even more than her parents, but it’s not the kind of love I yearn for. When she hugs me tightly, demanding my full attention, I feel a strange fluttering in my stomach.
In our childhood, sharing a blanket seemed innocent enough. But as we got older, I tried to set boundaries. I told her countless times that we couldn’t sleep together, though she paid no heed. Imagine my struggle, trying to control my hormones when she used me as her pillow, either snuggling into my chest or wrapping her arms around me. How did I suppress the urge to kiss her soft lips when she was so close?
I cherished these moments and cursed them in equal measure. Her affection was a balm to my lonely heart, yet it ignited a fire within me that I couldn’t quench. How could I possibly confess my feelings without risking our precious bond?
Yet, amidst these struggles, there were moments of bliss. Like when she’d fall asleep beside me, her head resting on my shoulder. In those moments, I’d lay awake, my heart pounding, afraid to disturb her peace yet craving the intimacy that seemed just out of reach.
And so, I kept my love hidden, buried deep beneath layers of friendship and camaraderie. I revelled in the joy of having her in my life, even if it was in a way I hadn’t dared to dream. I knew that confessing my feelings might shatter the delicate balance we’d built over the years.
So, I’m not shocked when she comes into my room through the window. It usually means she’s done something wrong and I have to protect her from getting scolded.
But something is clearly off tonight. Her voice is shaky, and I quickly put my book down, turning my face towards her.
Damn. She’s crying.
I gently cup both her cheeks in my hands. “What’s happened? Who made you cry?” I ask, my voice soft yet filled with concern.
She squints her eyes, and a sob escapes from her mouth. I tenderly wipe away her tears with my thumb, my heart racing as she sits on my lap, holding onto my neck like a baby seeking comfort.
I rub her back soothingly, whispering, “Shhh, don’t cry. Tell me their names; I’ll kick their asses.”
Between hiccups, she manages to speak against my neck, her voice fragile. “They were bullying me.”
In that moment, my protective instincts flare up. I pull her closer, enveloping her in a tight embrace, silently promising to shield her from any harm. My fingers gently stroke her hair as I murmur comforting words, ensuring her that she’s safe with me.
Still, I feel a surge of protective anger as she speaks, her words like a punch to my gut. My hands tighten instinctively on her cheeks, not out of anger, but out of the need to shield her from the cruelty of the world. “Who dared to hurt you?” I growl, my voice low and filled with fierce determination.
She sniffles, burying her face into the crook of my neck, her warm breath sending shivers down my spine. “The girls from college, and Hoseok’s dance partners,” she mumbles between hiccups.
A fire ignites within me, fueled by her pain. “They won’t get away with this,” I vow, my fingers gently wiping away her tears. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not while I’m here.”
She clings to me, her grip on my neck firm, seeking solace in my presence. I wrap my arms around her, holding her close, offering her the refuge she needs.
As her sobs gradually subside, I continue to hold her, my touch a reassurance that she’s not alone. She looks up at me, her eyes red and puffy, and I offer her a soft smile, my thumb brushing away the remnants of her tears. “You’re safe here,” I murmur, my voice a gentle caress. “No one will harm you as long as I’m around.”
I gently place soft kisses above her head, attempting to comfort her. “Oh, my cutie pie, don’t cry anymore,” I say softly, expecting her usual giggling response. To my surprise, she gives me a heavy punch on my stomach and tries to jerk her body away from my lap. I instinctively hold onto her waist, keeping her fixed on my thighs. “Hey, hey, sweetie, what happened?” I inquire, my concern evident in my voice.
She pouts, her eyes looking particularly fluffy. “You also said I am cute,” she mumbles. Holding her tightly, I tease, “Why? What’s wrong with being cute? You’re adorable.”
Her expression turns into a small whine. “Nooo. I don’t want to be cute. I want to be hot and sexy; you know.”
I look straight into her eyes, my gaze unwavering. “Who told you that you have to be sexy?” I question gently. She starts drawing invisible patterns on my t-shirt near my chest. “They said men like to date sexy girls,” she replies softly. I inquire further, “Who are ‘they,’ Hobi’s dance partners?” She nods in confirmation.
Over the past year, she’s developed a huge crush on Hobi, ever since she saw him at my birthday party. While Hobi himself is a good person, his gang, on the other hand, isn’t. Moreover, I don’t want her to date anyone, especially not someone from that group. Yes, I’m selfish. Initially, I had decided not to attend Hobi’s birthday party; I couldn’t stand those clingy girls. But I knew I had to go, if only to keep an eye on her. She’s capable of pulling off any stunt, especially in front of her crush.
I question her, unable to hide my concern. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of wearing something revealing.” Her eyes sparkle mischievously as I shake my head vigorously in denial. “No, never,” I state firmly. However, she instantly gives me a pleading look with her puppy eyes, a tactic that always works on me.
Eventually, I give in, and now she’s rummaging through my cupboard drawer. Her parents don’t allow her to wear revealing dresses, so she stores them in my cupboard. She has around 7 or 8 such dresses that she wears to parties, always with me as her designated security guard.
As time passes, her body matures, and I can’t allow her to wear those dresses anymore. But she’s incredibly stubborn. I wait for her with a book in my hands as she uses my washroom. When I hear the door click, I look up and my jaw almost drops.
She’s wearing a black velvety dress that barely reaches her upper thighs, exposing her collarbone and a slight cleavage. She looks stunning, but my protective instincts kick in. No, I can’t let her go out like this. Boys will ogle at her, and I can’t stand the thought.
She tiptoes towards me, the dress swaying with every step. “Am I looking sexy?” she asks, a playful glint in her eyes.
I clench my fists, struggling to control my anger. “You’re not going out like this,” I say firmly, my voice stern.
She stops, her grin widening. “Why?” She challenges me. I grip her shoulder firmly. “Because I said so. Wear something else.”
She stomps her feet, her frustration evident. “They will just say I’m cute. But Hoseok must like sexy girls. All of his gang are so hot. This dress is necessary.”
I can’t comprehend her desperation to impress Hobi when I’m right here, yearning for her attention. I growl, my patience wearing thin. “Stop being stubborn. Men aren’t only attracted to sexy girls. Stop this nonsense.”
She pushes me forcefully. “Whatever, but I want to be the main attraction at his birthday party. Jimin and I planned to propose to him today.”
What! She planned this with Jimin and didn’t even inform me? I furrow my brow in disbelief. “When did you both plan this?” My voice sharpens, making her visibly scared. She stammers out, “Today itself.”
I sit down calmly, my frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Then go with him. I can’t protect you if your parents find out you’re wearing this dress.”
She shouts, her voice filled with frustration, “Why are you doing this, Joonie? I’ve told you so many times to tell him, but you didn’t. Today, you’re behaving like this. Why? Are you jealous of Hoseok?”
I turn my head to her, my eyes filled with a mix of anger and hurt. “Why? Why would I be jealous?” She adds cruelly, “Because he’s popular with girls, and you can’t even make any friends.”
I feel like my head will explode in anger. Unable to contain my frustration, I slam my hand on the table. “Just get out of my room. Go wherever you want.”
Minutes pass in heavy silence. I finally turn my head to look at her, and I see tears glistening in her eyes, her makeup barely hiding the hurt. Instantly, guilt washes over me for raising my voice. I reach out to touch her shoulder, wanting to comfort her, but she steps back, her expression filled with both anger and hurt. “Don’t touch me. I will never come to your room again,” she says, her voice cracking with emotion.
I try to reason with her, desperation lacing my words, “Please, don’t be like this. You know I just want to protect you.” My voice softens, my tone filled with sincerity and concern. I reach out, hoping she would understand the depth of my worry for her safety. But she remains stubborn, her eyes reflecting a mix of hurt and defiance.
“I can take care of myself, Joonie,” she retorts, her voice carrying a mixture of frustration and determination. The tension in the room hangs thick, our emotions clashing like thunderclouds on a stormy night.
I step closer, my expression pleading, “But you don’t understand, it’s not just about tonight. I worry about you, all the time.” My voice cracks with the weight of my concern, my genuine fear for her wellbeing. “I can’t bear the thought of something happening to you.”
Her gaze softens for a moment, and I see a flicker of understanding in her eyes. Yet, her resolve remains unyielding. “I appreciate your concern, Joonie, but I need to do this. I need to prove that I can handle myself, that I’m not just a fragile little girl,” she says, her words laced with determination.
I sigh, feeling a mix of frustration and helplessness. “It’s not about seeing you as fragile. It’s about knowing how dangerous the world can be, especially when you’re so... so recklessly stubborn.” My words come out sharper than intended, my frustration getting the best of me.
She flinches at my tone, her eyes filled with hurt, but she doesn’t back down. “I have to go. I can’t let anyone else define who I am,” she says, her voice trembling with a mix of defiance and vulnerability.
I watch her with a heavy heart as she climbs out of the window, her silhouette disappearing into the night. Regret washes over me, mingling with the anger I felt earlier. I wish I could protect her from the harsh realities of the world, but she’s determined to face them on her own terms, even if it breaks my heart.
