Tap. Tap. Tap.
Mr. Oh looks up from the papers in his hands, glancing at the tap that is still dripping water. A sigh escapes his lips as he takes off the spectacles resting in front of his eyes, and closes them, massaging the bridge of his nose.
The desk he is sitting at is lit by the soft orange glow from the lamplight, the rest of his study dark. The parted curtains allow a glimpse at the inky black night outside, though his home is toasty warm by the heater.
Mr. Oh glances at the time. 12 a.m.
Though it is very late for an average adult-not counting teenagers who stay up all night partying-but it's Sehun's usual bedtime. Being a literature professor, and even that for the seniormost classes, is enough to take a toll on anybody.
He faces not-so-discreet taunts and insults from his students every day, lectures from the principal, judgemental looks from fellow teachers simply because of his young age. Being a strong personality, he isn't affected by it on a regular basis, but there are times when it's too much to handle.
Today is one of those days.
He gets up, reaching for the switch of the lamplight, but his glance strays to the piece of paper lying on the top of his stash.
Hesitation lasting only for a moment, Sehun reaches for it, holding the thin sheet in his slender fingers and lets his eyes skim over the paper.
So.
Um, I know that probably wasn't the best way to start an assignment we'd probably get graded for, but I've never really written a letter to anyone, and since this is supposed to be in the form of one...email comes more than handy on such occasion. But I guess I'm stalling too much, though it's only been one sentence-Yoongi is rolling his eyes at me and telling me to move on, so I guess I will because I don't want to set him off again.
Frienship, huh?
Well, Mr. Oh, to be honest, even though I'm generally good at this writing thing, my mind kind of goes blank when I'm supposed to speak about it-or in this case, write. So I guess I'll just start off with practical stuff-some time ago, I'd met this really sad kid, and while I had been trying to talk to him about friends, he'd asked me what they are to me anyway.
And I told him that for me, friends are family.
I've never really had my father around growing up, amd my mother...well. Ever since I was a kid, I'd only ever had one kind of family, one kind of support, and that was my friends.
Look, I personally don't believe in the idea that the longer you've known someone, the closer you are to them-I think it depends on how much you open up to them. And the reason why I can say I've been the closest to Taehyung is not because we've been together since forever-it's because we've seen everything about each other, been there through all out changes, ups and downs, and bared our souls to each other.
We trust each other.
And even though I haven't known Yoongi for more than a month, I'm that close to him because I trust him too-he's smiling right now-and that just proves my theory. I've even experimented with it.
It's like having your faith in humanity restored.
Friends are the people who you can admire in a way that makes you feel humble instead of jealous. Teasing instead of indignant. When you fit with one person, you start seeing other people too.
It's like going rapidly through different phases, and your opinion changes so frequently that it becomes almost formless, shapeless, inchoate, suspended. And it's beautiful.
When you have friends, you have diaries, T.V. sets, books, opinions. With friends, if you trust each other enough, you can have everything. You can be the most content person in the world.
You can be truly happy.
It's like being on top of the world, and in the deepest depths of it, at the same time. It's a funny feeling, and you'll know it when it happens.
When it happens, mark my words, it's not like the Earth cracking apart.
It's just like the touch of a feather.
And I believe you'll feel it too, one day.
Always have faith in a someday.
Love,
Y/N.
A slow, gentle smile lights up his features as Sehun folds the paper and closes his eyes, leaning back on the chair. It's almost like he feels it through the paper, the love.
And that's all he needs for now.