Chapter Text
Wooyoung remembers it like it was yesterday. The sky was bright and sunny, not a cloud in sight. At least that’s what the weather forecast has said that day. He didn’t actually know what it was like the full day, having been holed up in his lab for most of it. All he knows is from the weather forecast and from running outside after…he relied on the forecast to tell him the weather. It was fact; rarely, if ever was it wrong. It was a constant, a predictable, useful constant. In a world of uncertainty he learned to hold on to as many constants as he could. But more than anything he remembered that day, remember it to the letter, down to every last second. The moment his world crumbled around him:
Contrary to popular belief Wooyoung liked being alone in his lab. That’s not to say he enjoyed being lonely; he just liked the solace his lab provided in the midst of chaos. He liked getting to come down here and just be, liked having time to think as he let his fingers tinker away. He liked it, he felt useful. So why did today feel so different? Nothing was out of place. Nothing has gone wrong. If he should feel anything it’s giddy. He’d just gotten married to the man of his dreams last night, surrounded by the people he considered a family in the place they’d first fallen in love. It was everything they’d wanted, more than they’d dreamed of, so why? Why did he feel like something was wrong? He couldn’t explain it, how he knew, all he could say was that he just knew. It’s what had him come down here, tinkering away.
Not because he had any ideas for new tools to use. But because he needed a distraction, a way to get his hands moving and his mind off of the dread pooling inside his stomach. Something was wrong, he knew it, but he wouldn’t admit to that. Because he had a good day, he was married and soon he’d be off on his honeymoon away from anything bad. All the evils could wait until they were ready. They had to.
Wooyoung was happy, and he wanted it to stay that way.
“What is it? Why are all of you so quiet?” He surveyed the faces of those who’d come into the basement. Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, and Mingi. They’d crept down the stairs, had startled him enough to have him dropping the hammer he’d been holding. It’d been four days since he’d seen them. Them all having gone with San on some mission for the agency. “Why are you all looking at me like that?” There’s a stone that settles Wooyoung’s chest the longer they look at him. The stone that flips up and down. He knows what that look means, he’s given that look, but it’s not meant for him. It can’t be meant for him.
“Wooyoung,” Yeosang starts off, uneasy in his approach, “there’s something I have to tell you.” His voice is weary, unstable on the grounds of which it settled. Wooyoung tilts his head in confusion, a furrow on his brow. “Something serious.”
“I figure.” He laughs lightly, but it falls flat in the atmosphere around them. “Well go on then. Spit it out.” He’s got a smile on his face but it feels misplaced here. Wrong. Yeosang comes closer, putting a hand on his shoulder as if to comfort him. But Wooyoung has no idea what he’d need the comfort for. Nothing had happened. “Sangie, you go on like that any longer and I might just have to cut your kneecaps.” He jokes, still it fails to lighten the tension.
“Wooyoung,”
“Why do you keep saying my name like that?” He cuts off. He knows what is waiting for him, the words that Yeosang is trying to say. But he doesn’t want to hear it. Not now, not ever. “God you guys are acting like you just left a funeral.” He doesn’t miss that violent flinch that escapes all of them.
“Wooyoung,” Yeosang repeats, this time with a little more sternness, “the mission-“
“Yeah no,” he shrugs Yeosang’s hand off, standing from his chair and stretching lightly before looking at the man in front of him, “this should really wait. I have to check the stew and make sure it doesn't burn so that you guys can eat it for dinner. San said he’d really been craving it and I was cooking as a surprise.” Another flinch as he walks up the stairs into the main foyer. Yeosang follows behind him, grabbing his arm and turning him back. “Sangie, I love you; and I missed you too. That’s why I’m making stew. And you know how San gets after missions so, I really need to check it…”
“San’s dead.” Yeosang whispers the words so quietly that they fall on deaf ears as Wooyoung keeps rambling.
“…plus I have to finish and make sure San actually packed his bags because we have to go on the honeymoon. I already booked our flight.”
“San’s dead.” He whispers again. He can’t quite get his voice to work right as Wooyoung keeps talking about their plans. Oh god how could he do this? How does he look Wooyoung in the eye and tell him this?
“Besides I’ve already made the itinerary and as soon as we get there we’re going straight to the beach and drinking as many cocktails as we can stomach so that we can get so many embarrassing videos of ourselves that we send it to you guys by accident and you tease us for it.”
“San’s dead.” Another whisper. How does he say it? How does he tell him? They hadn’t even been married for a day before they’d been called out on that stupid mission, before they got ambushed and San stayed behind. Because that’s the kind of hero he was. The one to make sure everybody got out, to wait for everybody to get out.
“So I’m gonna finish dinner, and then we’re all gonna sit at the table like a happy family and then you’re gonna send us off with fake tears, like we’re never coming back.”
“San’s dead, Wooyoung!” He’s yelling before he knows it, tears pouring down his cheeks as he grabs his arms and shakes him trying to get the words through to him. Because he can’t stop yelling, he can’t stop or he’ll never say it and Wooyoung needs to hear it. Yeosang needs him to hear it. “He’s dead! He’s gone, he’s not coming home!” He thinks it works. For a minute Wooyoung is frozen, staring with wide eyes before his gaze falls to the floor. There’s a beat of silence before…
“Pffft,” Wooyoung snorts before he falls into full blown laughter, “gee Sangie if you wanted to prank me at least come up with a better plan.” He laughs again before raising his head, a huge smile on his face as he pulls himself away from Yeosang’s grasp. Shaking his head, Wooyoung rolls his eyes as he turns away from the other and walks to the kitchen rushing to the stove when he sees the pot bubbling over. “Shit.” He turns off the burner, sighing as he sees the mess. “I knew I should’ve come up sooner.” Without thinking he touches the pot handle. “Fuck!” He jumps back, fanning his hand up and down as he rushes to the sink. Seonghwa comes beside him, turning on the warm water as Yunho turns off the burner. Slowly, Seonghwa drops the water temperature, until it’s just cold.
“Careful,” Seonghwa mutters softly to him, “don’t move it too much.” Yeosang brings over a bowl of ice, and Seonghwa puts some water in it before putting Wooyoung’s hand in the bowl and walking him over to the table. “Wooyoung,” Seonghwa calls softly, “we need to talk.”
“We really don’t.” He chuckles. “I need to find something else to make for dinner.” Shrugging, he pulls his hand from the water. While it hurt to move, the burn wasn’t severe and had numbed to a small sting.
“Wooyoung,”
“You know I’m really getting sick of everyone calling my name like that.” Scoffing, he dries his hand on a nearby towel and leaves the kitchen. “God where is San? Usually he’d pop out with some stupid joke by now.” Grunting, he pulls his phone from his pocket as the group of four crowd around him, expressions downtrodden as they gaze upon his frustration. “Stop looking at me like that and tell me where he’s hiding.”
“Wooyoung,”
“Stop talking like that!” Biting his lip he dials San’s phone number, listening to each ring as the seconds tick by.
“Hey, it’s San. Can’t come to the phone right now, I’m super busy planning a crazy awesome wedding. Leave a message at the beep.”
“San, you won’t believe it,” biting his lip, Wooyoung runs his free hand through his hair as he sniffles, blinking back tears, “Yeosang is saying something stupid and it’s not funny.” Forcing a chuckle he looks over to the others, tone falling flat at the looks they gave him. Pure defeat. Wooyoung hangs up the phone, rolling his eyes as the stone in his chest begins to grow. Running his fingers through his hair once, he huffs before dialing again.
“Hey, it’s San. Can’t come to the phone right now, I’m super busy planning a crazy awesome wedding. Leave a message at the beep.”
“San, come on. Pick up the phone. They keep saying such crazy things and I…just call me back, please.” Hanging up, he finds himself looking back and forth between his phone as he sends frantic texts, and his team who looked seconds away from scooping him into their arms. “Stop looking at me like that!”
“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa takes one step towards him, but Wooyoung shakes his head, stepping back twice before calling again.
“Hey, it’s San. Can’t come to the phone right now, I’m super busy planning a crazy awesome wedding. Leave a message at the beep.” Groaning, he glares at the device within his grasp before calling again. “Hey, it’s San-“ Hanging up, he doesn’t give the voicemail a chance to speak as his frustration grows.
“Youngie,” Mingi tries, but Wooyoung glares at him.
“Shut up!” He snaps. He doesn’t wait for them to come closer, instead he throws his phone to the floor, screen shattering on impact, before he stalks off, heading upstairs to their bedroom. “San! San!” He calls out as he walks, peeking into each and every room he comes across within the house. “San! Come on, this isn’t funny.” Each room he entered, each call unanswered, it had the stone grow more and more as a sinking feeling began to overtake his gut. His eyes blur, but he forces them to clear. No crying. He refuses to cry. Crying is what you do when something is wrong and nothing is wrong. Nothing’s wrong. This is all just some big misunderstanding and when Wooyoung finds San he’ll knock some sense into all five of them. “San!” His voice cracks that time and he has to force himself not to falter as he throws their bedroom door open only to be met with a dark empty room. His breath almost hitches, legs almost buckle, but he forages on, trudging forward as the other present members trail behind him. He tears the room apart, opening the closet and bathroom doors, throwing the covers off the bed, dropping to the floor to look under the frame. “San, I’m serious!” He calls out. “Whatever game this is, stop it. I don’t like it anymore.”
“Oh Youngie.” Seonghwa sighs out. And he hates it, hates the sound of it, hates the look on their faces as he stalks past them into the hallway.
“Stop it.” He spits, storming down the stairs and standing right back where he’d started, the foyer. Running his hand through his hair he nearly starts pulling when he hears a car door open outside. “See? I told you. Now I’m gonna go outside the door and wring San’s ear and then I’ll wring all of yours for pulling that dumb prank on me.” For a moment the stone within his chest shrinks as he opens the door and bursts outside. For a small second, the ghost of a smile paints his face as he rushes to the car but his steps falter as he looks at who had stepped out the car. Hongjoong and Jongho. For a minute he tries to look around them for an extra head, but comes up short. Abruptly the stone returns to its lodge inside his chest. Swallowing harshly, he runs to Hongjoong, their leader. He’d know, he always does. Somehow, he misses the look on Hongjoong’s face at his approach. “Joongie, you won’t believe the dumb prank they’re trying to pull on me.” Bounding forward, he engulfs the man in a hug before pulling away, just barely missing the tears that would have stained his shirt. “They keep saying that San’s dead. Isn’t that ridiculous?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he thinks about it. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” He asks once he takes note of Hongjoong’s silence. One look at his face has him becoming annoyed again. “Oh come on, don’t tell me they got you in on it too?”
“Wooyoung, I know this is a lot-“
“Stop talking.” He whispers, covering his ears for good measure as he turns to Jongho. “Jongie do you hear…” his voice trails off as he catches sight of the tear tracks on the youngest’s face. “Why are you…” he couldn’t even finish the sentence before his breath hitches and his legs tremble. Brows furrowing, he makes a noise as his head shakes side to side. Jongho had done a lot of things over the years. Punched them in the name of giving them the good sense god bestowed them with. Crushed apples with his bare hands to remind everyone of his brute strength. Laughed every time they tripped over the air and tried to play it off. But never…never had he cried. It just wasn’t something he’d done in front of anybody. “No.” It’s whispered, voice faltering as he looks at each of them, really looks, and takes in the things he hadn’t noticed before. “No, that’s not,” biting the inside of his cheek as he takes in how dirty Seonghwa, Mingi, Yunho, and Yeosang’s clothes were. The way Mingi leaned onto Yunho’s side heavily, as if he couldn’t stand on his own. Took in the makeshift bandage around Seonghwa’s arm and head. Took in Yeosang’s wide, shell shocked eyes and the way he breathed as if he couldn’t quite get enough air into his lungs. “No. No!” He repeats more firmly, even as tears begin to fall down his face and his breathing gets just a tiny bit faster with each passing minute.
“Wooyoung,” Jongho comes up to his side, hand on his shoulder as he puts the final nail in the coffin, “I’m so sorry.” Wooyoung freezes, mouth open in an o as he processes the words. For a moment it looks as if he might collapse where he stands. Everyone looks at him, arms outstretched as if to catch him. For a second he might really fall, but there’s this buzz beneath his fingers telling him that he has to move, he has to go, and he can’t ignore it. So he takes off running, eyes blurred as his tears fall unrestrained.
“San!” He calls out as he runs out of the yard, past the street, into the small wooded area. His team gives chase, but he’s not slowing down. He needs to move. “Saaan!” He cried out, desperate to hear something to prove them wrong. He wants him to jump out and scare him, pull him into his arms and cradle him against his chest as he runs his back. He wants the crooked smile, and the surprise kisses, and the light teasing at his tears. He wants it. “San!” Each cry got longer and longer as he smelled through the trees to the small clearing where the pond resides. This was their spot, their hideaway. But now it was empty. Why was it empty? “San! San, please.” His chest heaved with the effort it took to breathe. There was dirt and leaves staining his clothes from the amount of times he’d stumbled and fell on his way here. “Please. San! San!” Collapsing in a heap on the ground he forces himself to crawl closer to the water, as if getting to the pond’s edge will reveal something he hasn’t seen, but he’s too weak to make it even halfway. “San.” He calls softly, voice too weak to tell any longer. It’s then that Yeosang comes to his side, falling to his knees next to Wooyoung’s body and cradling it on his lap.
“Oh Youngie.” Is all he can say as he holds the younger one close and allows his tears to stain his clothing. Stuck, Wooyoung claws desperately at Yeosang’s chest, sobs ripping themselves from his throat.
“Please, please,” he begs, voice cracking each time he speaks, “please bring him back. Bring him back to me.”
“I can’t.” Yeosang tries to tell him, but his denial falls on deaf ears as Wooyoung pulls himself closer into Yeosang’s embrace.
“Please Sangie, please bring him back. Bring him home.” Further and further his heart falls, unable to comply with Wooyoung’s request. “Please Sangie, I’ve never asked anything of you. Please just bring him back.” Seonghwa finds himself bringing a hand to his mouth as he turns away, unable to bear the sight any longer. He’d failed them, all of them. And yet he found himself with a selfish kind of gladness. Glad that it wasn’t him leaving Hongjoong like this. The feeling was small, fleeting and fickle in its wake, but still it was there. Gnawing at his flesh, glad that Hongjoong wouldn’t bear this weight. “Please. I won’t ask anything else of you. Please just bring him back. Please.”
“I can’t,” his voice falters for a moment, lip quivering as he looks to the sky for strength, “I can’t do that Youngie. You know I can’t.” Harder and harder Wooyoung scratches at his chest, biting his lip until it bleeds. “I wish I could. I wish I could just reach into the ground and pull him up by the strings of his boots. But it doesn’t work like that. I’m sorry.”
“He’s gone, isn’t he?” Wooyoung says after a while. “He’s gone forever.” He sobs then, heart broken in two. “He said we’d grow old together and now he’s gone.” The stone inside Wooyoung’s chest had grown into a boulder at the declaration. San, his husband, had died and left him here, without him. What would he do? How was he supposed to live without his other half? His soul? He couldn’t, he didn’t want to. It was impossible, unnatural, a reality not meant to happen. “You promised me.” He whispers, barely able to get the words out over the bubble in his throat. “All of you promised me.”
“Youngie, there was no way-“
“You said he would be safe.” Huffing, he grips tightly onto Yeosang’s shirt, biting the inside of his cheek before continuing on. “You said there was no danger involved. In and out surveillance, that’s all it was. So how the hell did it happen? How did it go so wrong?”
“Wooyoung,” Yunho says, shaking his head softly as he comes closer to kneel on the ground within his line of view. His shirt was singed at the ends, there were holes and his skin was scorched. Wooyoung was sure he was in pain, “everything happened so fast. One minute it’s a simple recon and the next…” his voice trails off for a minute, eyes getting this faraway look as he tries to form the right words, “these things, these missions, they aren’t as predictable as we’d like them to be. San gave his life to protect us, to protect you.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit.” Wooyoung grits out. “Don’t do that to me.”
Yeosang bites his lip, holding his head up to hide his tears as Wooyoung breaks down in his arms. He can’t move at first, the day’s events replaying in his head as he tries to figure out where it all went wrong. What he should have done differently. He gets stuck in it, trying to decipher it all, until Hongjoong places a hand on his shoulder, looking down at both of them. Yeosang can’t bear the sight of it, so he stands, helping Wooyoung up with him before picking him up into his arms and walking back to the house. The others followed closely behind, but he paid them no mind, just walked until he was in Wooyoung’s room. Nothing was gonna be the same ever again, he knew that. They all knew it. They just couldn’t predict how much everything would change, or who else they would lose.
“Why’d he leave me, Sangie?” Wooyoung whispers the question as he lays down on his side. There’s tear tracks on his face but no more are falling. It’s drying uncomfortably, itchy but he makes no move to relieve the sensation. “Why’d he go like that?” Yeosang makes a wounded noise at the lost expression painting Wooyoung’s face. Biting his own lip he lays down behind Wooyoung and pulls him so that his back is flush against his chest. Kissing his shoulder, Yeosang lets out a sigh before pulling the covers over both of them.
“Sometimes,” he swallows, blinking back his tears as he searches for the right thing to say, “sometimes the people we love have to leave us before we’re ready.” He took his hand that was laying on Wooyoung’s forearm and rubbed it up and down his arms, trying to soothe the ache he knew was building within Wooyoung’s chest. “Sometimes all you can do is say goodbye.”
“I don’t want to say goodbye.”
“Oh honey,” Yeosang’s hand freezes as he takes in the whispered admittance, “nobody wants to say goodbye. That’s what makes it so hard.” He takes his hand from Wooyoung’s arm and runs it through the younger’s hair. “Isn’t that what makes them worth it? To know he was worth it? How lucky you are, to have found someone who makes goodbye so hard.”
“Lucky? I don’t feel lucky.” Wooyoung sniffles, wiping harshly at his eyes. “I feel broken.”
“When you love something, someone, as much as you love San. You have to know that one day, whether you’re ready to or not, you’ll have to let them go.” Wooyoung makes a choked sound, eyes burning with the need to pool up yet nothing comes.
“There’s so much I had to say. So many things I had to tell him. There were so many things we had to do. Goodbye wasn’t a part of that.” He can barely get the words out over his sobs. His heart beat loudly within his ears, throbbing as it searched for a half that wasn’t coming back. “Can’t we just go back? Start over? I want more time. We were supposed to have more time!” Yeosang knew Wooyoung. He knew his secrets, his fears, his dreams. And he knew that more than anything he felt loss deeper than anything else.
“Wooyoung,”
“I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to learn how to live without him.” Wooyoung’s lips wobble as he sniffles. “He is everything Yeosang. He is the air that fills my lungs, he is the blood that pumps through my veins, the bones that form the structure of my body. He is the very stardust that forms my atoms and makes me human. Sangie, he is everything. There was never supposed to be an after him.” He huffs, wiping at dry eyes as he tries to steady his breathing. “There was a before, and there was a with, but there wasn’t supposed to be after. There was never supposed to be an after.” Yeosang doesn’t know what to say. He’d known Wooyoung for forever. They’d grown up together, in the agency halls. Wooyoung had always been that loud mouthed kid who talked whenever he wanted to, moved however he liked. But Yeosang had seen it, just how long he’d waited, how deeply he’d yearned for someone he could just sit with. In silence, unmoving where he wasn’t expecting to do anything but just lay there and let the world fade away from him. San had been that person, his person. Wooyoung had always shone as bright as the Sun but San brought out this hidden shine, this hidden piece of Wooyoung. He’d seen it, just how fast Wooyoung had fallen in love, just how deeply San had reciprocated those feelings. Wooyoung was right, there never should’ve been an after. But there is one now, one they can’t return from. What can you say to a person who’s stars have fallen from the sky?
Wooyoung was raised as a weapon meant to protect Yeosang from harm. Yeosang was the piece the agency would bring to greatness, the one they couldn’t afford to lose. That’s why they bought him from his parents. He was valuable in the way he could become a shield. A suit of armor used to keep Yeosang away from harm. There were countless times Wooyoung had gotten hurt, had taken a hit in order to have Yeosang keep his life. Countless times he’d nearly died doing what he was raised to do. Even if they weren’t within the agency’s barracks anymore he’d still kept up the work. Still took a bite of Yeosang’s food before he even touched it to ensure there was no poison, still entered the room before Yeosang to survey every exit, every camera, every person. It was San, who little by little broke those habits. Taught him that his own life was worth protecting. Taught him that he was needed, wanted, loved. Yeosang had tried countless and failed to break through to him; San knew exactly what he needed. Yeosang loves Wooyoung, loves him with all his heart. But San had given him the entire world.
It was even his plan. Their honeymoon. He let Wooyoung book a trip for a week but after he’d booked a trip around the globe. To show him all he’d never got to see before. He hadn’t told him, had kept it a surprise. Now he’d never get that chance.
“He was my favorite.” Wooyoung whispers into the silence. “He was my favorite hello.” Yeosang cracks a small smile at the fond tone painting his words under the pain. “I never wanted to say goodbye.”
“I know.”
“It hurts so much, right here.” He takes his hand and brings it over his heart, grasping his shirt tightly in between his fingertips. “Could you imagine that? It hurts.” He tries to laugh but it comes out weak and exhausted.
“It’ll heal. Maybe not perfectly but it will get better.” Yeosang tries to comfort, but Wooyoung shifts and turns so he can face the older boy.
“I don’t want it to.” Looking deep into Yeosang’s eyes he hopes his words strike true. “I don’t want it to go away.” He chokes up at the end, eyes burning harshly with the admission. “It’s proof. Proof that I loved him, that I love him. And eventually there will come a time that I will miss him longer than I knew him but the ache will never leave me. I won’t let it leave me. Because if it goes away, does that mean I stopped loving him? That I stopped looking for him everywhere? In every corner? Every room?”
“Love does not have an expiration date, Youngie. Having no pain doesn’t mean you never loved him. And it doesn’t mean you got over him too easily. It means that you’re learning how to take it one day at a time. That eventually the thought of him won't bring tears, they’ll bring soft smiles and laughter.“ Yeosang presses a kiss to Wooyoung’s forehead. “The absence of pain does not equate to the absence of love.” Wooyoung’s eyes grow wide at the response, tears filling them as he buries his head within Yeosang’s chest.
“Sangie?”
“Yeah, Youngie?”
“He’s dead because of me, isn’t he? I killed him.” He says it like a fact, cold and detached. Yeosang could’ve frozen twice over as Wooyoung just started ahead of him, looking but not seeing.
“Wooyoung,”
“He’s dead because I loved him.” Wooyoung felt so cold now, so alone. It’s like San left and took all his warmth with him, leaving nothing but a husk. “He’s dead because I thought we could be…happy.” Another pause, another deep breath. “I was foolish, I got greedy. The universe had to set it right, so they took him from me. We were never gonna get our happily ever after. They never existed.” Sniffling, tears fall one by one from his eyes. One he makes no move to wipe away even as they itch his face. “Do you think…Do you think if I beg hard enough they’ll bring him back? I promise I’ll never fall in love again, I’ll never ask again I just…I just want him. I don’t care if he’s not the same, I don’t care if he still loves me, if he…if he even,” he chokes, more tears falling at a rapid pace as he sobs and heaves on the words, “I don’t care if he even remembers me, I just want him back. Make him come back.” His voice cracks over and over again as he becomes hysterical, sobs wracking his entire body as he curls into himself.
“Oh Youngie.” Is all Yeosang can say as he watches him break down.
“Can you just hold me?” Soft spoken, Yeosang heard all the unspoken words weighted behind the question. To be a shoulder to lean on, to hide him from the world as he grieves, to just be there.
“I’m never letting you go.” Never in a million years.
Wooyoung didn’t get out of bed for two months after that day. His hand had gotten infected, Seonghwa having to treat it and nurse him back to health when he got a fever. Through it all Yeosang never left his side. He helped him clean up, helped him eat, he talked even when Wooyoung didn’t have the words to say back. It seemed like their roles were reversed. Yeosang filled up space, he took it where he needed to in order to ensure Woououng was comfortable. Wooyoung shrunk in on himself, tried to make himself smaller, hide in the background. He floated around, never fully there. His mind always wandered away somewhere else.
The world kept turning and Wooyoung became bitter. Because it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that everything just kept moving while Wooyoung fell apart. It wasn’t fair that everyone was getting their happy ending and he was left here, stuck in a world that has no place for him. With people who just…moved on. It made him bitter, angry, but he could never say it to their face. Could never show him the fire that burned inside his body. That’s what grief does, it makes you quiet.
Not because you’re processing the pain, but because you’re controlling the anger. The one that tries to consume you and burn every bridge you’ve ever made. Wooyoung didn’t want to be angry, but it came to him in waves. It lashed out at everyone inside his head, called them names too ugly to repeat aloud. The anger wanted to hurt, it wanted to make everyone hurt in the way that he did.
Wooyoung could see how worried Yeosang was becoming. The longer he acted this way, the more he slipped back into old habits. He could see it in his face, his posture. So he suppressed it, hid it as much as he could. Painted smiles on his face and laughed when he was supposed to. Because no one could understand, no one would understand.
Then Yunho died.
Suddenly there was Mingi. Asking how he dealt with the pain, how he’d learned to manage it. Wooyoung had laughed then. Not out of malice but of genuine curiosity. Was there really a way to manage this? He didn’t think so. No one ever manages a pain like this. They just bury it. That’s what he’d done, buried it. But Mingi wasn’t someone who could do that easily. Pretend. He wore his emotions like a coat, they covered him and kept him protected from the cold. Mingi couldn’t lie like he could, and they couldn’t stay here, where everything was so fucking suffocating.
So they left, while everyone was sleeping. They didn’t look back, not once. Left their phones in their rooms, and their bracelets which held their trackers and took note of their vitals. Mingi stayed with the agency for a little bit, doing a couple of missions here and there but his heart wasn’t in it. Wooyoung couldn’t stand the thought of being in that building. So Mingi did the work in exchange for his and Wooyoung’s locations being kept secret. And when he collapsed well, Wooyoung picked up the pieces. He put Mingi to sleep, then he went and did odd jobs for the agency. Again in exchange for their secrecy. He hated every second of it, but what choice did he have?
Never…never would he make the mistake of falling in love again. It was too dangerous. He couldn’t afford it.
It simply hurt too much.