Chapter Text
Wooyoung was acting weird. It began so abruptly that San sensed the change almost immediately. San couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling in his gut that something was terribly wrong.
Though it was immediate, it started innocently enough. Wooyoung was clingy, he knows that. However, until recently, it wasn’t done as unusual.
Both him and Wooyoung loved physical touch. They believe it makes them feel more connected to the other. San especially liked the touches that Wooyoung gave him. He likes how gentle he is with him; also likes how the same feeling of the touch lingers even after he lets go of him. While it felt intimate to San, it didn’t feel too explicit.
But Wooyoung would hug him at the most random of times and sigh on San’s neck or nape. He would plant a kiss on San’s shoulder so lightly that it would be impossible to feel it if San wasn’t already too hyper aware of Wooyoung’s touches. He would look at San with a gaze too deep, seemingly like there’s both nothing and everything in his eyes, which both drew San in and pushed him away. All of these still felt intimate, but something tells San that this isn’t quite right.
In fact, Wooyoung would be clingy by the day, but as soon as night descended, he would excuse himself, tells San he’s tired, and leave for his own personal space. It only made San more bewildered.
At first, San tried to brush it off, thought nothing of it. He tried to convince himself that it was all in his head. Maybe Wooyoung really was just tired. Maybe he was just looking into things too much. But days had passed and Wooyoung still continued to avoid San’s invites of staying over, even on the weekends. The weekends. Wooyoung had always stayed over the weekends. Hell, he even stayed over on the weekdays and schoolworks hadn’t stopped him before. It caused the seed of concern that was already planted on San’s chest to begin to sprout, uncontrollably reaching into his mind. Why the sudden change? What was so pressing that Wooyoung could’t spend a night together as they had done countless times before?
It was next week, by Wednesday, that San felt a sense of desperation creeping in. San thought this might be his last chance. Of what? He doesn’t know. Although, he gets a distinct feeling that this might prove something. Again, something he doesn’t have any idea of.
It was after history class. San quickly fixed his things and practically ran to Wooyoung. It felt odd, San’s heart had never raced like this. It doesn’t even feel good.
Like in auto, Wooyoung turned back and smiled at him, one eyebrow raised, an indicator of asking San what’s up.
“Hi,” San heaves.
“How’s the class?”
“Same old. Boring,” San’s kind of glad he’s capable of making this as casual as possible, ignoring the clawing desolation in his chest.
“Clearly. I saw you turn your head to me for help,” Wooyoung chuckles.
Wrong. But he wasn’t about to tell Wooyoung that he was looking at him for some other reasons.
“Caught me. But hey, do you mind if I come over tonight?” San asked, his words almost coming out in a rush.
It was sudden, but San swears he saw a momentary flicker of panic in Wooyoung’s eyes. He was sure of it. He’s become too observant when it comes to Wooyoung, especially lately, that he feels he could hardly miss anything that Wooyoung does.
“I’m sorry, Sannie. But not today?”
Well, that stung. Wooyoung never rejected him before. This was a first, and San couldn’t help but feel dejected and confused. It was probably too apparent on his face, because Wooyoung’s face softened and tentatively reached out to wrap his hand around San’s wrist. But even that small gesture felt different, felt too hesitant. It sent another punch to San’s gut. Wooyoung was never hesitant with him.
“But we can walk home together, is that okay?”
Another punch. They always walked home together. Why would Wooyoung ask for permission now?
But San nodded nonetheless, shifting his wrist so he could intertwine his hands with Wooyoung’s.
“Yeah, of course.”
The days went by and the same strained feeling still couldn’t be shaken off. It agonizingly lingers, refusing to dissipate. San couldn’t ignore the signs even if he wanted to. He began to notice Wooyoung’s frequent trips to the bathroom, the subtle disarray in his appearance when he returns, and the noticeable change in his usually vibrant demeanor, now replaced with a tired, almost sickly air.
“You look sick, are you okay?” San asked one day when they were hanging out on his couch.
“Yeah, just tired, sorry,” Wooyoung would simply answer, pressing himself closer to San.
Despite all this concern he feels, he found himself unable to confront Wooyoung about this. Not when every time he tried, he was met with the same kind smile, the very same one that made it impossible for San to voice out his worries. After all, he knew Wooyoung better than he knew himself. So why now, can’t he bring himself to find the words to ask him what’s wrong?
As he watched from a distance, San thought nothing else could ever compare to Wooyoung while being surrounded with the flowers he so loves. The late afternoon sun cast an orange hue through the shop’s window, perfectly highlighting Wooyoung’s figure in a way that took San’s breath away.
It’s cruel to just deny the thought. It’s as natural as breathing to accept it. Wooyoung is as beautiful as the blooms he lovingly tends after. Probably much prettier.
But his weariness is still as clear as day to San’s eyes. He was only relieved when he managed to bring the two cups of coffee he had ordered before coming. When he entered, Wooyoung glanced up at him and immediately beamed, rounding around the table to greet San.
“Just saw the last client of the day exit, how are you?” San asked, ruffling Wooyoung’s hair. Sometimes, he wished Wooyoung never cut his hair. Wooyoung with long hair was divine, it was practically San’s favorite thing, ever. Well, after Wooyoung himself. But Wooyoung looks ravishing in any way, anyway. San couldn’t bring himself to be against it.
“Great, actually. I just wanna sleep above flowers forever,” Wooyoung replied with a huff, the playfulness coating his tone. San chuckled at that.
“I was hoping for no sleep, though. Here, I bought you this.”
San brought up Wooyoung’s share of iced americano. He saw the way Wooyoung’s eyes lit up and absentmindedly lifted his hand to cup one of San’s cheeks, a habit he acquired over years of being friends with San. However, the gesture was too quick that Wooyoung was already pulling away before San could even lean closer to his touch.
“Aw, Sannie. You didn’t have to. But thank you,” He said, as he opened the lid of the cup and took a sip. He heaves in ecstasy. “From the new cafe a few blocks away?”
“Yeah,”
“I’ve heard they’re good, didn’t expect them to be this good though. Thank you again, Sannie.”
Well, anything to make him smile, San thought.
“You’re closing up now, Wooyoungie?”
“Yeah, I was about to before you came. Why?”
San brought down his cup and reached for Wooyoung’s nape.
“Come over, please?” I really miss you. “Kind of lonely without you.”
There it was again. The glint of hesitation in Wooyoung’s eyes. San tries to ignore the bitter feeling in his chest whenever he sees it. He doesn’t want to acknowledge it. He fears it might make him insecure and find a hole in the security he brags within the confines of his relationship with Wooyoung. He doesn’t see it. He doesn’t.
He prays to the gods and everything that Wooyoung would accept. But if he declines, then it’s something that is over his control.
“Okay,” Wooyoung nods, his voice quiet. “You look like you’re about to cry,” he added.
“Really?”
“Should I just take it back then?” Wooyoung teased.
“No! I have a movie you’re gonna love!”
“Ooh, you’re picking this time?”
“About time anyway.”
San’s room was dark, save for the soft glow of illuminating from his laptop. He and Wooyoung are cuddled together in the warmth of his own bed, currently engrossed in a romance movie San had randomly picked up from Netflix earlier that day.
Well, probably not random. San had already watched this movie countless times, best believe it’s one of his favorite movies of all time. It captures the essence of youth perfectly, while love blooms innocently and early. San loved those types of movies. In fact, he loves it so much that he couldn’t help but narrate the scenes. His excitement was too palpable while recounting the ‘quality of romance’ on screen to Wooyoung, who only listened to San attentively.
“You’re such a sap. You’re too romantic,” Wooyoung remarks, a soft smile playing on his lips.
“Well, I love love,” San replies with a chuckle, leaning closer towards Wooyoung.
“Of course you do,” Wooyoung gently teased, San could almost see his amusement personifying. He only huffs.
As the movie continues, San notices Wooyoung letting out a soft yawn.
“Sleepy?”
“Yeah, sorry,” Wooyoung says apologetically.
“It’s okay, let’s call it a day then?” San asks, while closing his laptop and putting it aside. Wooyoung only hums.
Yet Wooyoung turned his back on San, a rare occurrence that naturally caught San’s attention immediately. But San chose not to press further and opted to wrap his arm around Wooyoung’s waist. It was such a warm embrace, with the gentle rhythm of their breaths echoing in the room and the synchronized heaving of their chests gradually lulling San to sleep. He’s happy just like this. Happy to embrace and hold Wooyoung close like this. San felt like it was forever since the last one.
However, when morning came, Wooyoung was nowhere to be seen. A pang of disappointment washed over San. But he tried to be hopeful, assuming Wooyoung was only making breakfast. San immediately rose up from his bed and headed for the kitchen, but only to find it empty. The bathroom was vacant too, so was his inbox. There were no messages from Wooyoung. There was, nonetheless, a plate of breakfast for San on the dining table.
San tried to understand, he really does. Yet he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness at Wooyoung’s absence, something he doesn’t even know why.
Three days. Three long days.
For three long, agonizing days, San had been plagued and haunted with Wooyoung's absence. Each visit to his dorm and shop always ended in disappointment. Wooyoung was nowhere to be found. San even tried messaging and calling, yet they always ended up unanswered. This uncertainty gnaws uncomfortably within San, adamantly refusing to fade away. He’s almost feeling on the edge, and despite his best efforts, he can’t help but think it has something to do with him. But what could it be?
He was walking home from his last class when he finally saw Wooyoung. But it caused immense dismay on San's part as he realized that he was not of reach. Wooyoung is currently on the other side of the road, inside a local cafe with their mutual friend, Hongjoong. They’re considerably far, but San identifies Wooyoung nonetheless. Confusion and hurt mingled within him as he watched them together. So Wooyoung was fine, he's safe. But why hadn’t he met up with San for three days?
San was so out of his mind that he was determined to confront the situation head-on. He woke up early the next day and waited outside Wooyoung’s doorstep. It was about ten minutes when the door finally opened, revealing a sickly looking Wooyoung. All the hurt San initially felt had washed away as he frantically let his mouth move before he could even think about it.
“Are you okay?”
It was just then that Wooyoung completely noticed San’s presence. His shock was evident in his eyes, seemingly taken aback by San’s appearance. It reverted the flicker of doubt back to San’s mind. He definitely did something wrong. Wooyoung is avoiding him because he did something wrong.
“Sannie,” Wooyoung mutters quietly, as if he’s searching for the right words to say. “I’m okay, maybe.”
“Maybe?” San’s heart sank. He felt his eyes twitch as he grabbed Wooyoung’s shoulder to take a good look at him. He looks sick. His complexion looks paler than usual, and he’s noticeably unusually thinner. San couldn’t imagine what had gone wrong for Wooyoung to be in this state.
“You don’t look so good, Wooyoungie,” San thinks he might sound a tad bit wretched, but he couldn’t help it. Not when Wooyoung’s like this. Not when he can vaguely see the fine line of their friendship slipping away from his fingers. “Have you been eating well? Sleeping well?”
Wooyoung’s eyes were downcast when he replied, “Yeah, I’m just a little overwhelmed with stuff.”
“Overwhelmed with what? Are you too overwhelmed that you couldn’t even check your phone? Too overwhelmed that you couldn’t even tell me what’s going on?”
San’s desperation and anguish are enough for him to lose every logical thought and control in his system. Especially when it’s Wooyoung. It’s probably only when it’s Wooyoung. He’s too caught up with his emotions but not much, because he immediately realized just what he had said, how wrong it was, and tried to backtrack. But it was too late. He watched how Wooyoung silently looked up at him now, and quickly noticed how terribly dead his eyes looked.
There was no light in it. It’s dark in a way one could see the pits of nothingness within. It’s something San never saw with Wooyoung before, and he realizes he might just have messed up things even more.
And probably, no, surely, Wooyoung is being distant because of San alone. He must have done something that Wooyoung didn’t like. Or he was probably sick of being a friend to San. Or, something. Anything, anything. He wishes Wooyoung would just say anything, however sick and twisted it may be. However jarring and sickening they might be. San would listen. He will take it all. Just anything, he begs.
“Wooyoung—”
“I’m sorry, Sannie,” Wooyoung interrupts. His voice was still as soft as ever, but San couldn’t shake off the horrifying feeling as he stared at Wooyoung’s piercing gaze.
“I’m sorry for ditching you like that. I didn’t mean to,” he moved away from San’s grip and held both of San’s hands instead, “The morning I woke up in your bed, I dropped my phone on your toilet, so it broke. I’m sorry if I forgot to write you a note, but I hope the breakfast was good. I’m also sorry for not meeting you for three days. I’ve been sick and I didn’t want to worry you or infect you. But I should’ve just told you, right?” He smiled, but it was weak, and San never felt so in despair.
San felt a mixture of relief and guilt washing over him. Relief, that Wooyoung was alright. But guilt, for being a bit too selfish and letting his insecurities get the best of him.
“Wooyoungie, no, no, I’m so sorry. You didn’t have to, I’m just— You didn’t owe me anything, this was all on me, I swear,” he felt the pulsating remorse creeping into his spine, “Yes, your food was great, but I was just really sad that you were gone for the next three days and I thought that maybe that was the last time I’ll ever see you. I’m just so worried, I don’t know what I’d do if I ever—,”
His words were interrupted again when Wooyoung tightened his grip on San’s hands.
“It’s fine, Sannie. You look like you’re about to cry,” Wooyoung remarks, “Let’s just admit we had our own faults, hm? Although it really was on me.” He added. San could only nod. He doesn’t know what to say anymore, finding himself unable to find the right words to express his feelings.
“Let’s go to school together?” Wooyoung asked, and San was quick to nod and say yes.
Wooyoung’s hand never left his even when they walked. But there was something else that remained. San couldn’t shake off the idea of the darkness that lurked within Wooyoung’s eyes. Even when they talked. Even when they reached the school together.
Wooyoung’s well-being first, his emotions second.
San sought to buy Wooyoung vitamins and medicine for whatever sickness he was in. The pharmacy nearest to him was closed, prompting him to opt on a bus ride to the next town with the nearest pharmacy. The ride going there was uneventful, the silence in his inbox deafening him as he was reminded of Wooyoung’s broken phone. Maybe that should be the next subject he should tend on.
It was two towns away when he got the necessary medicine he wanted, and he rode the bus home as soon as he acquired it. While on his way back, the stranger seated next to him on the bus unknowingly leaned his shoulder for support, seemingly falling asleep in the middle of their travel. A few minutes later, the bus halted at another stop.
“Cera, hey, wake up!” A voice called from San’s left side. It was another girl, looking at her friend with disappointed eyes, although San could see the tenderness within it. She looked at her friend’s predicament, then glanced at San, and shot him an apologetic look.
“I’m sorry for my friend,” she said lightly.
“It’s okay,” he replied with a smile.
“Oh,” The girl, Cera,began to wake up, her voice still laced with drowsiness, “Oh my god, I’m sorry!” She exclaims, standing abruptly with her apology directed at San.
“It’s okay, really,” San reassures.
Her friend just nodded at him and pulled Cera off the bus, both of them leaving together.
Upon arriving at the hallway of Wooyoung’s dorm, San felt an uncomfortable swirl within his stomach when he saw Hongjoong emerging from Wooyoung’s door.
“Hongjoong-hyung,” San huffed lightly as he approached. Hongjoong looked at San’s bag of medicine and greeted back.
“San, what are you doing here?”
“Did you come out of Wooyoungie’s dorm?” San asked, refusing to answer him.
“Yeah, he needed help with something,” Hongjoong replied, touching his nape as he did so.
“Oh, well, okay then,” San said, about to walk towards Wooyoung’s door when Hongjoong barred his entry.
“Yes?” San asked, too politely because he doesn’t want to be rude.
“San, you… Wooyoung is busy. He doesn’t want to be disturbed.”
San couldn’t help but raise his eyebrow. He really didn’t want to step over a line, but even a child would call that bullshit.
“I’m just going to give these to him, I don’t think that's considered as bothering him.”
“That’s not the point. Just leave those here at the doorstep, I think that would suffice—”
“Hyung, I’m his best friend. I know better than anyone else what’s good and wrong for him—”
“Yes, I know. I know you are, San, that’s why I’m saying this,” Hongjoong insisted.
Saying what? All San feels right now is nothing but a mix of confusion, desperation, and fear. Even a bit of anger, but he wanted to be as patient as possible. But that proves to be difficult, noting that he could even barely compose himself and keep his patience as of the moment. He doesn’t like how cryptic all of these seemed to him. He wants to tell Hongjoong to fuck off and not tell him what to do. He wants to barge inside Wooyoung’s dorm, demand and ask him what’s going on. He wants everything to go back to normal as soon as possible.
He was about to open his mouth when the door opened, with Wooyoung appearing before them.
“I thought I heard something,” his voice was hoarse and weak, and his eyes looked like he was on the verge of tears. He still looked sick. His expression, however, mirrored San. Confused and bewildered.
“Sannie? You were coming?”
“Yeah, I brought you medicine,” San replies, moving forward as he purposely passed Hongjoong.
“Ah, thank you, Sannie. You didn’t have to,” Wooyoung replied, giving San a small smile.
“It’s okay. I just came here to drop these off,” San emphasizes on the last part, “That’s all.”
“Really, I couldn’t thank you enough. You’re the best.” Wooyoung says, taking the bag as San hands it.
“Just get better, please?”
“Mhm, I will. I promise.”
But San doesn’t feel relieved at all. In fact, he only felt more troubled.
The university was bustling with life. It’s only natural. It’s as expected during the scheduled annual freshman organizational tour.
San couldn’t help but reminisce about his own freshman years, filled with innocent naivety, in hopes for a blissful college life. Wooyoung, too, was the same. He was vibrant, the embodiment of joy. He was San’s source of life. Wooyoung just dyed his hair purple, and San swore he never saw someone pull it off as great as Wooyoung did.
They visited various booths— dance, film, rodeo, philosophy— exploring anything that caught their attention. Despite their enthusiasm, they were unable to find an organization to join. However, they did get to meet several new friends from their stops.
“Join the Film Org!” San heard from a distance, “We got film reviews every week! New movies from any genre!”
San could perfectly remember when the same exact words were spoken and heard by Wooyoung during their freshman years.
“Do you think they’d ever do porn reviews?” Wooyoung asked humorously, walking towards the said booth.
“Ew, what the fuck,” San protested, amused.
“Hey! You’re not too innocent either. And fuck you, that was a genuine question,” Wooyoung retorts.
“It’s a school organization, Wooyoungie. It’s catered for general audiences,” San tried to explain/
“Well, horror and action films aren’t for general audiences, are they?” Wooyoung countered.
“But it’s porn. Not everyone would be so accepting of it,” San reasoned.
“But what about for sex-ed?” Wooyoung persisted.
“Hi, uhm, we do in fact not do porn movie reviews, but we appreciate the open-minded question!” The guy from the booth comments with a laugh, putting their banter to a temporary halt. San didn’t even know they’re already standing before them.
“I see! Thank you for the answer, I appreciate it too!” Wooyoung replied, then turned to San, “See, Sannie, there’s nothing so ew about asking some questions.”
He was so endearingly annoying that San just wanted to pinch his cheeks so hard it would be covered with blush of red forever.
Before he knew it, he was walking towards the same booth.
“We got all you need! Horror Fridays, Action Saturdays, Romance Mondays! Join the Film Or— Oh!” The girl’s advisory was cut off, a surprised expression on her face as she made eye contact with San, with him also stopping on his tracks immediately.
“Oh,” San echoes.
“Bus guy!” The girl, named Cera, if San remembers correctly, exclaimed.
“Cera, that’s not how you talk to new people,” Her friend from the bus, as San remembers, told her.
“Hi, are you a freshman?” Her friend asked, taking over the conversation.
“Oh, no,” San replies, “I’m a junior. I’m just walking around.”
“Ooh, I see. Same. I mean, we’re juniors too,”
“Yes!” Cera chimed in from behind her, “I’m Cera. She’s Maurice. We both major in Media!”
“Nice to meet you. I’m San, from Biology.”
They talked for a while, with Cera and Maurice alternating roles from time to time. San insisted earlier to move on and let them do their own things, but Maurice asked Cera to apologize properly this time for sleeping on San’s shoulder on the bus.
“I mean, it’s really fine. It happens,” San’s smile never faltered. It’s like looking after two little sisters.
“Well, alright. Come by again if you’re bored!” Cera exclaims before heading back to where Maurice is.
It’s a pretty garden, painted with the soft hues of dawn.
San found himself dancing among the flowers. He loved pretty things. He loved to be alive just for the sole purpose of giving love to others. He especially loved being with flowers. Among them, a flower stood like a beacon of light. Wooyoung. For San, he was the prettiest. His hair that seems like petals of silk, and a heart as pure as dew. For someone who loved flowers, San was enchanted by Wooyoung— like a moth drawn helplessly to a flame.
He breathes in the anticipation of seeing Wooyoung. His radiant smile brighter and prettier than the morning star, making San’s heart flutter like it’s grown a million feathered wings. And every time he does, Wooyoung would greet him with a shy blush, his fluffy hair that looked like petals in San’s eyes, unfurling in the warmth of his gaze.
San especially liked taking care of Wooyoung, and loved when he received the same from him— like a bee being showered with sweet nectar. It was the perfect picture of bliss. Like this was meant to happen for a long time. Like their souls were entwined in a fondness as tender and as old as time itself.
But with the natural course of nature and millennia, this too was bound to end. The garden was obliterated with strong winds, piercing and tearing through the fragile and delicate texture of the flowers. San tried to protect Wooyoung, but it was beyond his capabilities. He watched in horror as the winds took Wooyoung away from San’s grip, tearing him away from his hold forever.
With the loss of Wooyoung comes the shattering of San’s heart into million tiny pieces. He doesn’t think it’ll ever gonna mend. Wooyoung was… Wooyoung is…
He woke up from his deep slumber.
He fell asleep at the rooftop, the one place he goes to when he wants to be alone. It’s already a late afternoon when he woke up, with the sun setting casting a somber light beyond the horizon. He stood up, though still drowsy, and leaned into the rails, looking at the campus field from below.
“San?”
“Cera?”
She was standing a few meters away from him. But even from that distance, San noticed the way her cheeks stained with almost-drying tears, his eyes softening consecutively.
“Are you okay?”
She must’ve been taken aback by this because she jolted and frantically wiped her eyes and cheeks.
“Yes, yes! I’m fine! Just a tough day,” she mumbles. San studied her intently before glancing back to the field below. There was a heavy silence before San spoke again.
“Do you mind sharing?” He asks, because, one— he doesn’t want the silence to take over him, making him think about the miserable swelling on his chest; and second— Cera is probably going through something right now.
“I don’t, but you’re practically still a stranger.”
“Well, makes sense.”
The silence was there again, and he was about to go and excuse himself, give Cera the solitude she probably wants, when she spoke up.
“Have you ever been in love?” She wasn’t looking at San when she asked that. Her eyes were fixed downwards, and if San tries to be more meticulous, he’ll find the tiredness laced within her voice.
But that question stopped San’s thought process. Has he been in love? Sure, he loves love. But he never thought about being in love with someone.
The first person who popped into his mind, however, was Wooyoung. If he’s granted a wish, he’d probably ask to spend the rest of his life with him. But he doesn’t know if that counts as being in love with him. After all, San loved all his friends, and Wooyoung happened to be his best friend. He’s special in a way that no one else is.
His dilemma must be written all over his face because Cera called his name again, now worrying.
“Uhm, I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Her eyebrows raised.
“I don’t know,” San admits defeatedly, “I have no idea how it is to be in love.”
The silence that followed this time was deafening. There was a palpable tension that neither of them acknowledged. He didn't like it, so he opened his mouth again.
“Have you?”
This time, Cera looked at him directly. Her eyes were filled with the same desperation and nothingness, mirroring San’s that had lingered for the past few weeks since he gradually felt Wooyoung drifting away. It was an all-too familiar look that San couldn’t help but pity her. He knew that gaze all too well. Fear, sorrow, and anguish lurking behind tender and soft eyes. No one else could ever decipher what it means, but San understands too well.
There was a flicker of hesitation before she turned away from San again.
“Yes. I have,” her tone was stony, a stark contrast from her demeanor that San had associated with her ever since they met.
“San, you know…” There was a long pause before she spoke again, and San couldn’t understand the pressing rigidness in the atmosphere. She looks like she’s hesitant, but San couldn’t make anything out of it very well, the long strands of her hair blocking her face.
“I feel like I’ve loved you since the day I met you,” she confessed.
San was stunned. Rather of a warm, romantic gesture, the way she said it was frigid. There was no life in it. It was frosty in a way that it bites instead.
“What?”
“I love you,” she turns to San, now having a clear view of what she looks like. Her face was neutral, but her eyes were an evident mix of pain and fondness, “Please go out with me.”
When San was younger, he imagined bringing bouquets of roses as he holds it up to the person when he confesses. It remains a distant childhood fantasy, because even now, San never had the chance to confess to anyone. But despite all that, he had always regarded it as a sweet, romantic gesture, with a feeling of euphoria coursing through his body just like what he had seen from the movies.
And when he thinks about it, in the middle of it all was Wooyoung. Wooyoung who he loved showering his love with. Wooyoung who had been with him through every important milestone of his life. Wooyoung who he so adores and treasures with all his life.
Yet regardless, he finds himself in a pitfall. He finds himself being pulled on a hole that knows no end. He doesn’t understand. He’s lost and his light is gradually flickering away. He fears that if it’s too late, he might never get home ever again.
His mind is so disoriented that by the second he flicks his gaze back up to Cera’s, he feels the intensity of his predicament swelling all over him. He’s demented in a way he couldn’t understand, so he nods. He nods too slowly that it took her a while to understand what it meant.
Then she smiled, tired and defeated.
“Okay, thank you so much,”
By the time he went home, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He could barely get an ounce of sleep, even if he tried. His mind is filled with Wooyoung. How he kind of wishes it was Wooyoung. How he wishes nothing had changed. For a while he thought he may cry, feeling a sense of guilt washing over him. He doesn’t even know why, but he felt like he just destroyed something sentimental between them.
In a feeble, cowardly attempt to keep their friendship, he opened his phone and clicked on Wooyoung’s inbox.
‘Wooyoungie,’
‘I finally have a girlfriend!’
He hit send, wishing that Wooyoung’s phone was still broken. But he should have known that the odds had always been against him, because it got delivered.
And not even a minute in, it marked as read.