Ship/Member: Joshua/Vernon Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: BBB Square: Homesick but no idea where home is, idolverse, capricornian overthinking, just regular dudes communicating (badly) Permission to remix: Please ask
***
“I feel kinda bad,” Vernon announces one morning in the kitchen.
Joshua’s barely even awake, still making sense of the sleep in his eyes and the untouched cup of coffee he’d poured with the lucidity of a zombie. “Hm?”
“I feel bad you can’t go back home,” Vernon says, casually completing his thought.
Joshua would never admit it out loud, but he’s embarrassed how quickly the words shock him awake. It’s tortuous science, how billions of microscopic neurons work together against him and suddenly, he’s thinking of his mother alone in LA. Friends from high school he’d left behind. A vast ocean between then and now. How the water used to sting his skin.
Science. Facts of the matter, he thinks. Memories he's held so close they had become just as rigid and indelible.
But it isn’t always so clear-cut for Joshua. Sometimes it’s staring into the seemingly cavernous pool of steaming black coffee, buffering as he tries to process synaptic data.
Junhui and Minghao will be going back to China soon. Those are facts, too. The proof: he’s seen their tickets. He wants to think that’s all there is to it. No hard feelings. Not here.
Vernon stops rummaging around the cabinets for food and takes a seat. “Sorry,” he says quietly, wincing a little at himself. Joshua watches his eyelashes meet each other and entangle like hands threaded together, until Vernon opens his eyes. “I know that’s not exactly ideal for breakfast conversation.”
Joshua shakes his head, laughs as much as his body will allow him to. He’s still so tired. But at least they don’t have much of a schedule today. “That’s okay.”
Then he finds himself saying, “I feel bad, too.”
Vernon grasps at any straw he can get, his earnest face lighting up with concern and care. “I mean, with the virus over there, and everything—”
“I know, Vernon-ah. I know.”
Sometimes Joshua feels like he has to feign acceptance. And Vernon can be too sincere for him, intense in his stony expression and heavy-handed with his words. Something he’d subconsciously picked up from Minghao or Seungkwan. Maybe.
No amount of fame will get Joshua accustomed to scrutiny. He’s since learned how to retreat and hold some things close to himself for once. Maybe he isn’t quite ready to admit some things out loud. Does that make him a liar? A bad person? He hopes not.
“Shua,” Vernon tries.
Joshua belatedly realizes the coffee has gone cold, and that Vernon is furiously carding through his hair, making it into a mess.
“Hey, cut it out,” he chastises gently.
Vernon stops. He blinks at him, long dark lashes fluttering and crazy hair spilling into his eyes from his widow’s peak. “Hyung,” he says again.
Joshua knows that look. Talk to me.
He has grown to appreciate persistence like this. Reminds him of their pre-debut days, back when he was still grappling with what was meant to be innate for him. Learning the Korean language. The endurance, the determination. Thick skin. Joshua had almost quit this whole idol shit with Jeonghan back then. They even had a pact about it, like schoolchildren making promises on the playground. What seemed to be second nature to Vernon was just another skill Joshua eventually had to learn.
“We get homesick, too,” Vernon says suddenly. “Even after all these years.”
Joshua nods. He knows this, too. That’s why it doesn’t make him special. They’ve all signed up for the fast track to a lifetime’s worth of fraught rootlessness, so he can't linger on the negatives. He’s been comfortable. Modern technology has also been very good to him. He’s grateful he’s able to call his mother more often nowadays.
And he’s said it many times before—he’s at home with the members, wherever that might be. Right now it’s sitting at the kitchen table with Vernon, trying to be thankful for it all.
“I’m saying you don’t have to be all,” Vernon makes an indecipherable hand gesture, “you don’t have to be all you about it.”
Joshua rests his chin on his hand, letting himself smile wryly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know what I mean,” comes Vernon’s exasperated response. “You don’t have to keep it to yourself just because Jun-hyung and Myungho-hyung are leaving.”
Joshua’s eyebrows shoot up in mild surprise. “Of course I know that.”
He wonders why Vernon would betray his nature so unexpectedly. Maybe one of the members—Seungcheol, maybe Jeonghan—had gotten some strange idea that Joshua was upset about something. Has he always been so obvious? It makes sense if they had put Vernon up to the task. If anyone could make sense out of the spacey loneliness that simultaneously bridges worlds while permeating Joshua’s brittle bones, shouldn’t it be him?
Vernon’s face tells on him sometimes, says things he might not be brave enough to make real by mouth. Things like, I’m on the outside. Do you see me?
Things like, I used to feel this way, hyung. Do you feel it too?
But Joshua figures Vernon is asking because he’s not only obedient, but honest and firm where it counts. He ought to play nice, keep him at arm’s length. Vernon’s bright eyes can’t actually speak for him. As usual, Joshua is wishfully seeing what he wants to see.
Right?
That's the rationale. Cold logic.
Honestly, Joshua has never been too attached to any of it. Some things are just things he tells himself over and over again, even if they don’t give him a quick fix or a sense of comfort. Neurons might just be neurons, but longing persists. It’s not like his tears abide by any science. Maybe what’s real is what he makes out of all these sights and sensations.
What’s real is Vernon reaching beyond their easy camaraderie, meeting him halfway. Joshua isn’t oblivious.
There’s that sinking feeling emerging in his stomach. Defeat has never been the most logical option, has it?
“I miss my mom,” Joshua finds himself admitting. “A lot,” He forces his gaze towards Vernon. “I— I wish there was something I could do.”
Vernon startles at the sound of his voice but nods encouragingly. He brings a hand to Joshua’s shoulder. “For sure, man.”
Joshua lets out a sigh—breaths he didn’t know he’d been holding. “And I’m happy for Junnie and Myungho, I really am, it’s just— I don’t know—”
“It’s hard, right?”
Joshua looks up at Vernon who’s staring directly at him. He’s never been good at handling that kind of eye contact, laser-focused and heavy. Signs of intent he can’t read just yet. He can't help but falter a little. “Uh, yeah. It is.”
“It’s okay, hyung.” Vernon sighs and tucks his head into Joshua’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”
Oh. Okay.
“Promise?” Joshua asks with a teasing lilt in his voice.
An aborted laugh startles itself out of Vernon. He isn’t good at this either, Joshua realizes. But he’s trying to get it out of his system, too. Together.
This could be halfway. This could be it.
“Promise,” Vernon mumbles into Joshua's shirt, and Joshua can hear him smile.
[FILL] do you feel it too?
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: BBB Square: Homesick but no idea where home is, idolverse, capricornian overthinking, just regular dudes communicating (badly)
Permission to remix: Please ask
***
“I feel kinda bad,” Vernon announces one morning in the kitchen.
Joshua’s barely even awake, still making sense of the sleep in his eyes and the untouched cup of coffee he’d poured with the lucidity of a zombie. “Hm?”
“I feel bad you can’t go back home,” Vernon says, casually completing his thought.
Joshua would never admit it out loud, but he’s embarrassed how quickly the words shock him awake. It’s tortuous science, how billions of microscopic neurons work together against him and suddenly, he’s thinking of his mother alone in LA. Friends from high school he’d left behind. A vast ocean between then and now. How the water used to sting his skin.
Science. Facts of the matter, he thinks. Memories he's held so close they had become just as rigid and indelible.
But it isn’t always so clear-cut for Joshua. Sometimes it’s staring into the seemingly cavernous pool of steaming black coffee, buffering as he tries to process synaptic data.
Junhui and Minghao will be going back to China soon. Those are facts, too. The proof: he’s seen their tickets. He wants to think that’s all there is to it. No hard feelings. Not here.
Vernon stops rummaging around the cabinets for food and takes a seat. “Sorry,” he says quietly, wincing a little at himself. Joshua watches his eyelashes meet each other and entangle like hands threaded together, until Vernon opens his eyes. “I know that’s not exactly ideal for breakfast conversation.”
Joshua shakes his head, laughs as much as his body will allow him to. He’s still so tired. But at least they don’t have much of a schedule today. “That’s okay.”
Then he finds himself saying, “I feel bad, too.”
Vernon grasps at any straw he can get, his earnest face lighting up with concern and care. “I mean, with the virus over there, and everything—”
“I know, Vernon-ah. I know.”
Sometimes Joshua feels like he has to feign acceptance. And Vernon can be too sincere for him, intense in his stony expression and heavy-handed with his words. Something he’d subconsciously picked up from Minghao or Seungkwan. Maybe.
No amount of fame will get Joshua accustomed to scrutiny. He’s since learned how to retreat and hold some things close to himself for once. Maybe he isn’t quite ready to admit some things out loud. Does that make him a liar? A bad person? He hopes not.
“Shua,” Vernon tries.
Joshua belatedly realizes the coffee has gone cold, and that Vernon is furiously carding through his hair, making it into a mess.
“Hey, cut it out,” he chastises gently.
Vernon stops. He blinks at him, long dark lashes fluttering and crazy hair spilling into his eyes from his widow’s peak. “Hyung,” he says again.
Joshua knows that look. Talk to me.
He has grown to appreciate persistence like this. Reminds him of their pre-debut days, back when he was still grappling with what was meant to be innate for him. Learning the Korean language. The endurance, the determination. Thick skin. Joshua had almost quit this whole idol shit with Jeonghan back then. They even had a pact about it, like schoolchildren making promises on the playground. What seemed to be second nature to Vernon was just another skill Joshua eventually had to learn.
“We get homesick, too,” Vernon says suddenly. “Even after all these years.”
Joshua nods. He knows this, too. That’s why it doesn’t make him special. They’ve all signed up for the fast track to a lifetime’s worth of fraught rootlessness, so he can't linger on the negatives. He’s been comfortable. Modern technology has also been very good to him. He’s grateful he’s able to call his mother more often nowadays.
And he’s said it many times before—he’s at home with the members, wherever that might be. Right now it’s sitting at the kitchen table with Vernon, trying to be thankful for it all.
“I’m saying you don’t have to be all,” Vernon makes an indecipherable hand gesture, “you don’t have to be all you about it.”
Joshua rests his chin on his hand, letting himself smile wryly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know what I mean,” comes Vernon’s exasperated response. “You don’t have to keep it to yourself just because Jun-hyung and Myungho-hyung are leaving.”
Joshua’s eyebrows shoot up in mild surprise. “Of course I know that.”
He wonders why Vernon would betray his nature so unexpectedly. Maybe one of the members—Seungcheol, maybe Jeonghan—had gotten some strange idea that Joshua was upset about something. Has he always been so obvious? It makes sense if they had put Vernon up to the task. If anyone could make sense out of the spacey loneliness that simultaneously bridges worlds while permeating Joshua’s brittle bones, shouldn’t it be him?
Vernon’s face tells on him sometimes, says things he might not be brave enough to make real by mouth. Things like, I’m on the outside. Do you see me?
Things like, I used to feel this way, hyung. Do you feel it too?
But Joshua figures Vernon is asking because he’s not only obedient, but honest and firm where it counts. He ought to play nice, keep him at arm’s length. Vernon’s bright eyes can’t actually speak for him. As usual, Joshua is wishfully seeing what he wants to see.
Right?
That's the rationale. Cold logic.
Honestly, Joshua has never been too attached to any of it. Some things are just things he tells himself over and over again, even if they don’t give him a quick fix or a sense of comfort. Neurons might just be neurons, but longing persists. It’s not like his tears abide by any science. Maybe what’s real is what he makes out of all these sights and sensations.
What’s real is Vernon reaching beyond their easy camaraderie, meeting him halfway. Joshua isn’t oblivious.
There’s that sinking feeling emerging in his stomach. Defeat has never been the most logical option, has it?
“I miss my mom,” Joshua finds himself admitting. “A lot,” He forces his gaze towards Vernon. “I— I wish there was something I could do.”
Vernon startles at the sound of his voice but nods encouragingly. He brings a hand to Joshua’s shoulder. “For sure, man.”
Joshua lets out a sigh—breaths he didn’t know he’d been holding. “And I’m happy for Junnie and Myungho, I really am, it’s just— I don’t know—”
“It’s hard, right?”
Joshua looks up at Vernon who’s staring directly at him. He’s never been good at handling that kind of eye contact, laser-focused and heavy. Signs of intent he can’t read just yet. He can't help but falter a little. “Uh, yeah. It is.”
“It’s okay, hyung.” Vernon sighs and tucks his head into Joshua’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”
Oh. Okay.
“Promise?” Joshua asks with a teasing lilt in his voice.
An aborted laugh startles itself out of Vernon. He isn’t good at this either, Joshua realizes. But he’s trying to get it out of his system, too. Together.
This could be halfway. This could be it.
“Promise,” Vernon mumbles into Joshua's shirt, and Joshua can hear him smile.