the great boyfriend | chwe hansol
Hansol looks at you from the other side of the couch. His eyes divert to the book in his hands, and then back at you.
“I know the green light is important, but I don’t know what to say about it.” you whined, taking your glasses off and rubbing your tired eyes. “I keep ending up with something really basic — like, ‘it represents Gatsby’s dream.’ That just feels too obvious.”
“Alright, let’s break it down.”
“Baby, it’s 1 AM. Go to sleep, I can finish on my own” you sigh, taking in his exhausted demeanor.
He had been the whole day on schedule, recording tracks, filming content and attending a variety show — Hansol needed to rest. And yet he was there, going over your study materials in hopes of helping you out with The Great Gatsby, and the midterm you were dreading for most that semester.
“Yeah, that’s kind of the surface level. It’s not wrong, but there’s more going on. Think of the green light as a symbol of longing. Gatsby’s not just reaching for Daisy — he’s reaching for this whole version of life that he’s built up in his head. Success, love, belonging… all of it wrapped up in that one tiny light.” he ignores your suggestion, and as much as you want to roll your eyes at him, you know he wants to be there, awake, next to you through it all.
“Right, and because it’s always across the bay, always distant… it shows how the dream is unattainable?”
“Exactly. That’s what makes it powerful. The fact that it’s just out of reach turns it into this perfect metaphor for the American Dream — the idea that if you work hard enough, you can have anything. But Fitzgerald is saying that for some people — maybe for most people — that dream is just an illusion.”
When he explained the topic so easily, so comprehensively, you wished you could ask him to study with you every damned night. Hansol showed interest and you also knew he took pride in being able to help you out. But that was your career, not his. And as much as you loved spending time with him discussing literature, your passion, he had his own career to care for.
“So, it’s not just that Gatsby doesn’t get the dream, it’s that the dream itself is kind of fake?”
“Yeah. It’s not that Gatsby fails — it’s that the thing he’s chasing was never real to begin with. Daisy, the house, the parties, the lifestyle — it’s all performative. He’s built his whole identity trying to be someone he thinks she’ll love, and that version of her, and of himself, doesn’t even exist.”
“Okay, that makes more sense”
“You wanna discuss the eyes of Dr. T. J. Eckleburg?”
“I want to discuss going to bed” you yawned, closing your notes and stretching out “Let’s go, Sol”
“I can keep going” he grinned, but against his statement, he left the book on the coffee table and stood up, helping you up and embracing you with the little force he had left.
“Thank you, love” you breathed in his scent, a warm feeling of calmness invading your body. “I appreciate this more than you know”
“That’s what boyfriends are for”
“And you know more about Gatsby than I was aware of” you chuckled, pressing a kiss on his nose. “When do you have time to think about all this? And read?”
“I like to follow your reading schedules. So I can help you out” he shrugged, as if he hadn’t confessed how much he loved you through his actions.
“You’re my green light. But luckily I already have you, and you’re not a fake dream. You’re so real and I still can’t quite believe it” you kissed him, feeling his arms around you.
“I’m the lucky one here” he peppered your face with more kisses, giving you a gummy smile when you giggled. “Let’s get some well deserved rest, love”
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