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Wooyoung had a shitty day.
In the six months they’ve gone into hiding, he ended up landing a job as a taxi driver. Not the most lucrative – or thrilling – job, but it was enough to keep gas in the tank and food in their stomachs. Well, most of the time. It depended on how many customers he got, and how many times he got stiffed. The latter didn’t happen often, but tips were harder and harder to come by as of late, as were customers. Today, however, he had been stiffed twice, and received a total of 46,000₩. It was about enough for one meal, and maybe a gallon or two of gas for the van.
He squeezed the steering wheel tightly as he exhaled sharply. All he had eaten was some chips for breakfast and an apple at lunch. As much as he wanted to put more gas in his vehicle, his stomach was crying for food. Without wasting another moment, he grabbed his phone and called in a takeout delivery. It wasn’t much, the cheapest meal he could get, but it was better than nothing.
Fifteen minutes went by, his foot tapping impatiently on the mat as he waited for his food. While he waited, his thoughts drifted briefly to the others, wondering how they were doing. He hoped they were doing better than him and San—that they were making enough money to make it through the week, that they had enough food to get them through the day, that they weren’t stressing too badly while waiting for a sign to set their plan into motion. He hoped Yeosang was eating enough, hoped that Seonghwa was taking care of himself. Hoped that Hongjoong and Mingi weren’t overworking themselves, and that Jongho and Yunho weren’t pushing themselves too far.
He couldn’t wait to see them again.
The back of the van suddenly opened, slamming a second later and Wooyoung peeked through the curtain to start telling San about his day.
The complaints died in his throat upon seeing the state San was in.
There was dried blood on the corner of his mouth, his bottom lip swollen and split. His shirt was stained, blood and dirt decorating the white tank top. Then there were the bruises. It wasn’t uncommon for San to return from the underground ring with some bruises—he was a fighter after all, he couldn’t escape from all the matches unscathed. But to have this many was highly unusual. His left arm had the most bruises, dark and ugly against his tanned skin, and Wooyoung could spot one or two peeking out from the behind his shirt on his chest. He had no doubt there also several on his back as well.
But the one that worried him the most was the one on San’s neck.
It was the darkest bruise he could see, and the second largest of them at that. He wondered if a blood vessel had popped to cause such deep shading, and his brows pinched together in concern. If he had to take San to the doctor, things would get ugly. They were wanted criminals, and the last doctor they used to have had been arrested last month by the capitol.
He must’ve looked really worried because in the next moment San was waving it off. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” Wooyoung had a feeling that wasn’t the case. San didn’t lie, really, it wasn’t his thing, but he had a tendency to shrug off his injuries, calling them minor as to not worry the others when, in fact, the wounds were not minor at all.
“Did you lose the fights tonight?”
San shook his head, but immediately stopped at the pain it caused in his neck and shoulder, biting back a grimace. Wooyoung spotted it anyway. “No, I won all three matches tonight. But I got jumped on my way back.” San looked tired, now that the cabbie looked closer. The skin under his eyes were dark, darker than they were yesterday for sure, and there was a distant look to his eyes. No, San wasn’t tired, he was exhausted. The fighter gave a harsh sigh, leaning back against the makeshift bed. It was obvious he was disappointed in himself. “They were mad cause they lost their bets. There was too many of them to fight off.” But it was obvious he had tried to regardless. Wooyoung knew San probably fought as hard as he could for that money, only giving it up when he realized he really wouldn’t make it out of the situation in stable condition. San’s head lolled to the side, tired eyes meeting Wooyoung’s concerned ones, and he gave a strained smile. “Sorry."
Don’t you dare apologize, Wooyoung wanted to scream. San may be the fighter of their little group, but he could see it. He could see it in San’s eyes, his movements, his repressed sighs. San was getting worn down. Wooyoung couldn’t blame him, his job was literally underground fighting. It took a toll on him, mentally and physically, and Wooyoung wasn’t sure how much longer San could keep this up.
“Get some rest,” is what he ended up saying, letting the curtain fall into place once more as he focused on the steering wheel again. “Food should be here soon.” San gave a grunt of acknowledgement, and Wooyoung gripped the wheel hard once more as he worried at his bottom lip. He was worried for San, so fucking worried, but until they got the go for the plan, this was how things were. They were barely scraping by.
The sound of an approaching engine put the cabbie on alert, straightening in his seat, when he saw the bag of takeout in the driver’s grasp. He took the food with a nod and a quick thanks as the driver took off. “Was that the food?”
“Yep. Here.” He handed San the food, and this close he could see the split lip and dark bruises up close. It made his heart hurt, and he had to will down the urge to pull his boyfriend in to kiss all his injuries. But that could wait until bedtime, when he could pull him in close for cuddles and kisses. Before San made off with the food, he turned back to Wooyoung.
“Did you eat today?” His heart throbbed in pain again. San was always too kind, putting others before himself. He knew San was starving—he hadn’t eaten dinner last night, nor had he eaten breakfast, and he doubted he got something for lunch. And with his high metabolism and how much energy he burned, Wooyoung knew San's stomach was running on empty.
He nodded. “Yeah, I ate today.”
San regarded him with a look. “You promise?”
A huff of amusement. “Yes, Sannie, I promise. Go on, eat, okay?” San still hesitated, probably because he knew Wooyoung was hiding something from him, so the cabbie leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his uninjured cheek. “I’m fine, San. Eat, please.” His tone was soft and gentle, his gaze full of love and worry, and it was enough to make San cave in and accept the food.
“Thanks, Youngie.”
Wooyoung’s stomach tightened with hunger. He threw San another smile, this one brighter. “I love you, Sannie.”
San’s smile was tired, but the dimples still came out, reaching his eyes as he reached out to run his bruised knuckles over Wooyoung’s cheeks softly. “I love you, too, jagiya.”
Wooyoung’s heart beat hard in his chest. San rarely used that term, but when he did, it always made Woo’s heart flutter. He pressed a kiss to San’s hand before shooing him off to rest, catching sight of another dimpled smile before the curtain fell back into place.
Things were hard at the moment, but Wooyoung knew it would get better.
They just had to wait for the signal.
Thankfully, two minutes later, they got it.