Pluto Rooms | Jikook

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"So." 

Hoseok sits at the kitchen table, sipping at his morning coffee. His hands tease the edges of the napkin laying on the table, eyebrows wiggling with more than just caffeine jitters. Jimin purposely doesn't make eye contact, scrolling through yet another article on claustrophobics and how they can be the result of suffocating parents.

"I said...SO! Ahem." Hoseok kicks a sweatpant-covered knee underneath the table. Jimin raises his head, stares at the napkin, and rolls his eyes.

"So?" Jimin cards a hand through his purple hair. I should probably re-dye this soon. It's getting kind of faded. "I told you, I'm not going to call him. No matter how many times he shows up at the bar and tries to flirt with me."

Hoseok takes another sip from his Don't Worry, Be Happy mug. He eyes Jimin over the deep blue rim, and nods introspectively. Jimin returns his focus into the article, hoping the matter with Jinyoung is resolved.

Hoseok had found the napkin this morning when Jimin was reorganizing his books, trying to find room for the new Reimagining Western Drinks book he'd ordered. But lo and behold, Hoseok came in his bedroom at the right time, suggesting the drawer as an acceptable spot (and opening it) to find the call me :) napkin. 

"Jimin, I think you're too guarded." Hoseok suddenly reveals, his soft gaze lingering on the grains of the table. 

Serious consideration for his dongsaeng runs in the undertones of his voice. Jimin turns off his phone to watch his friend. Something in his voice demands attention, as if he's ready to share another impromptu motivational speech. Jimin lightly crosses his arms and leans back in the kitchen chair, all ears. 

"This guy has an obvious interest in you. From what you've told me he seems nice enough, a little forward, but that's not a bad thing. I might call that boldness. He seems to know what he wants. He also seems pretty motivated."

Jimin sighs. How come the successful ones always know what they want? I don't know jack shit about what I want. Wait. Jimin's memory recalls the game calling Pluto horrible things. I know exactly what I want. And it's to fucking kill the game makers for including harrassment in their experiment. 

"Also," Hoseok continues. "I think a huge portion of you pushing him away comes from not officially coming out. Even though you tell me all the time you feel comfortable in your own skin and really own being gay, I have yet to see it."

"What? What are you saying?" Jimin suddenly finds himself growing defensive. "I totally own being gay. I've never lied to myself on that count, Hobi. I-"

"No, you haven't. But I think you're still hesitant to show off that part of yourself to others. I get the fact that you feel like you might be looked down upon by the homophobes, but you can't escape hate forever, Jimin. Some people are going to hate you for no reason. You can't let them stop you. You can't let their shitty opinions on who you should love get you down and force you into a plastic bubble! No one can breathe in a fucking plastic bubble!"

Jimin imagines a bubble around him, surrounding him at all times. Following him around to the store, to the movies, in the Camry. Preventing others from getting too close to him, lest they find out his true nature. Lest they make fun of him for being interested in strange subjects such as political theory, the parts of the eye, or how to sufficiently plan out a garden so that the tomatoes get full-sun while still receiving protection from pests.