Work Text:
"San," Yeosang says, quiet, ever so quiet. He tugs lightly on San's sleeve, but even the simple gesture is hesitant.
And San hates it, hates how Yeosang is so shy, always afraid of being a bother. Yeosang could never be a bother, not when he's like a timid cat in the big, scary wild that is the idol industry.
So San smiles at him, tries to ease his worries. Although after today, it's probably a fruitless gesture. "Yeah?" he says, and Yeosang's eyes shy away from him, falling to the ground.
"Can you- can you tell Hongjoongie hyung I'm gonna walk home?" Yeosang's voice gets smaller with every word.
"Walk home?" San's eyebrows lift in surprise. They're not very close to home, way more than forty-five minutes away even by car. It would take Yeosang ages to walk home, not to mention how dangerous it is. They're idols, after all.
Hongjoong's talking to some of the organizers with a barely concealed scowl on his face, but ATEEZ know his tells by now, which is probably why Yeosang didn't directly ask. Not only does he not want to disturb Hongjoong in his important business things, but the Captain would have probably said no immediately.
"Yeah, I just-" his breath catches in his throat. "I need fresh air."
San can feel multiple sets of eyes on them, no doubt eavesdropping on their conversation. He has no doubt Yeosang can feel them too, if the way he shrinks into himself is anything to go by. Yeosang is still pretty much staring at the ground, and when San's gaze flicks over his head, he catches Yunho's eyes from behind where the makeup noonas are cleaning him off. Yunho gives him a sad kind of smile, and next to him, Wooyoung's eyes are practically blazing with anger.
Anger too, simmers in San's gut, the way Yeosang is always so insecure because of other people who can't see how hard he tries. The way they beat him down every time he starts to feel confident again. ATEEZ try so hard to get Yeosang to shine, only for some asshole's words to take them back to step one.
Warnings rest on the tip of his tongue, because if it was up to San, there's no way he would let his Yeosang walk the streets of Korea alone this late. Especially not in the state. But before he can reply, Seonghwa sidles up to them, his face a mask of something San can't read.
"Do you have your phone?" Seonghwa asks, and Yeosang nods, pulling out the device to prove it. Seonghwa exhales through his teeth. "Okay," he acquiesces. "But you have to answer your texts. I need to be able to confirm you're safe."
Yeosang nods again, murmuring okay, thank you. San opens his mouth to protest, but is silenced when Seonghwa shoots him a look that says I'll explain later. San shuts his mouth, staring at him, because what is there to explain? Seonghwa can probably read his expression, and he shakes his head minutely.
San cedes, because he understands why Seonghwa wants to give Yeosang space. Besides, San isn't blind, he can feel that something is about to happen - something is about to crack - and it's probably in everyone's best interests that Yeosang won't be there to witness it.
Yeosang's gaze flicks up to them and then to the door, and he gestures helplessly in that direction. "I'll just… go… now. So I can get home… sooner. Um. Okay. Yeah. Bye."
He stumbles backwards when San and Seonghwa (and literally everyone's eyes) stay on him. His eyes dart across the room, never able to meet anyone's gaze, and San's stomach churns, at how his Yeosang can look so terrified and shaky, his exterior so fragile he's like a glass doll.
When Yeosang finally manages to leave - San catches the telltale glimmer of tears and his heart screams at him for leaving Yeosang alone - everything explodes.
Wooyoung is out of his seat in seconds, storming over to Hongjoong and the staff members in loud, furious stomps. He shoves Hongjoong aside, jabbing a finger into what San knows to be the main event organizer's chest. Hongjoong lets himself be pushed aside, letting Wooyoung take the reins for this one. The man's eyes go wide at Wooyoung's hostility, at how he's entirely unashamed of the way he's practically snarling.
"Who the fuck is the one who made those slides?" Wooyoung hisses, his voice dripping with malice, and San is a little scared of how usually sweet Wooyoung can be this intimidating. It's not surprising in any sense, San's just a little concerned.
"It was an accident, Wooyoung-ssi," the man tries to placate, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace. But he might as well be trying to calm a rabid dog with how angry Wooyoung is. There's practically steam pouring from his ears, his body trembling with barely constrained anger.
"An accident? I don't care if it was an accident. Who the fuck made them?" Wooyoung spits, "Don't make me repeat myself."
"Hongjoong-ssi," the other man starts, turning to Hongjoong, "Please control-"
"No," Hongjoong says, his tone pleasant, but almost sarcastically so. His arms are crossed as he leans against the wall, and San can see he's perfectly content to let Wooyoung "handle" the situation for now. "I'm rather interested too, please do explain, Donghan-ssi."
His eye twitches once, but he quickly gets it under control, gesturing for the man to continue his explanation.
"Hajoon and I made them," Donghan concedes, sounding exasperated. "It was an accident, nothing else. Nothing to get angry about."
One of the other men nods in agreement, and that must be Hajoon. "Mistakes happen," he adds, waving a dismissive hand, and he's only adding fuel to the fire. Even San can see Mingi starting to fidget, his face creased with anger.
Wooyoung bristles at that. "You made Yeosangie cry!" his voice rises to almost a shout.
"Wooyoung-ssi, please calm down."
"Do not tell me to calm down!" Wooyoung shouts, whipping around to face Hajoon. He's shorter than the man, but the way he strides up to him makes him seem six feet tall. His eyes narrow as he sees Hajoom properly, before recognition and disgust flick over his expression.
"Hey, weren't you the one who left Sangie out last time too?" he sneers, cocking his head to the side. "Mistake my fucking ass. You fucker can't even do your fucking job properly."
San squints at Hajoon, and fuck he is. That other time had left his Yeosang in teary pieces, and it took them so long to help him back together again, his self-esteem practically torn to tatters. Just like this time. Do these people never learn? San almost itches to start yelling with Wooyoung.
Somehow, Hajoon keeps a straight face. "Wooyoung-ssi, this is very unprofessional."
"Unprofessional is you somehow forgetting to include a member," Yunho cuts in before Wooyoung can, his clear, sharp voice resonating around the room. Mingi nods, his furious gaze burning holes into Hajoon's skull.
"Can't you count to eight?" Jongho speaks up too, and the venom and disgust in his voice is shocking for their maknae. "Maybe you need your eyes checked," he continues, sickly sweet, "Since you can't see when something is even or not."
Seonghwa hums lowly under his breath, and San only hears because he's so close. It's times like this when he remembers how truly connected they can be to one another, how united they can be when someone is attacking one of their own.
"Eight makes one team," he finds himself adding, "As staff, you should know that. How is it even possible to forget someone?"
Hajoon flushes, and Donghan takes a step back, all too willing to let Hajoon take the brunt of the blame. "Like I said, mistakes happen. What's done is done. It wasn't that big anyway, didn't even affect the fansign much. Everyone was fine with it."
Wrong thing to say. The worst thing he could have possibly said. If Hongjoong hadn't placed a warning hand on Wooyoung's back, San is positive he would have jumped him. Wooyoung's face twists in pure rage, his posture stiffening. He's shaking so hard San's worried, Wooyoung's hands clenching as he visibly fights to not throw a punch. Not like San disagrees. He's not the only one ready to throttle this asshole. Even normally calm, sweet Seonghwa is seething beside him.
ATEEZ is practically one voice as they argue back, ranging from "What the fuck do you mean everyone was fine with it, literally nobody was fine with it" (Mingi) to "You sound as fucking stupid as you look" (Jongho) to "Jesus Christ, shut the fuck up" (Seonghwa) to Wooyoung's pissed scream of "Are you fucking serious, you incompetent motherfucker?"
"You made Yeosang cry, you fucking bitch!" Wooyoung screams, striding forward and making Hajoon take an involuntary step back. "This is mistreatment, you know, I could get you fuckin' fired for not doing your job properly!"
Hajoon seems to have enough of Wooyoung yelling at him, and it causes cracks in his professional mask. "It's not our fault if an idol cannot handle something this minor," he snaps back.
Hongjoong has to wind his fist into the back of Wooyoung's shirt when Wooyoung tries to leap at the man, his arm muscle straining at the strength it takes. "No lawsuits, Young-ah," he mutters, although the warning is mostly lost over Wooyoung's shrieks.
"Just because you're a pathetic piece of shit who can't do the one thing you're supposed to do!" Wooyoung yells, "Yeosangie is always being treated like this by you fucking whores- maybe you should do your job for once instead of blaming someone for having fucking feelings!" Wooyoung spits at the ground, and San has never seen him go this far. Not like he wouldn't have done the same, but Seonghwa has a careful hand on his arm, which grounds him enough, even though Seonghwa himself is trembling. Wooyoung though, Wooyoung has a heart too big and too much care for beautiful, kind Yeosang. Enough care for both of them. A voice loud enough when Yeosang's fades, which sadly happens too often.
"You're pathetic," Wooyoung hisses, "It wasn't a fucking mistake, or it wouldn't have happened once, much less twice. You're a fucking pussy because you had one thing to do and completely fucked it up. And you don't even owe up to it, because of what, your fragile masculinity? Just because Yeosangie is more than you'll ever be, because Sangie can breathe and it'll be worth more than you if you tried a lifetime-"
A loud smack echoes through the room. Wooyoung's head whips to the side with a sick crack, effectively shutting him up. Hajoon stands there, his hand still raised.
Blood roars in San's ears and he yells out, because the bitch had slapped Wooyoung, had dared to lay his hands on one of ATEEZ. Seonghwa's hand closes around his wrist when San tries to run forward, and San glares at him with a gaze that could kill, only to be met with a cool stare and a nod. Look , Seonghwa mouths, and San wills himself to calm down. Losing his cool will not help matters, and he forces himself to breathe, to assess the situation.
He isn't the only one ready to jump Hajoon. Hongjoong's face is twisted in the way that screams that he's about to tear the man to shreds himself. Jongho lets out an aggravated growl, rising halfway from his seat before Yunho manages to pull him back down, a feat with how much stronger Jongho is. Mingi is vibrating with anger in his seat, barely controlling himself.
The rest of the staff is watching with their mouths gaped, because Hajoon had slapped Wooyoung. He laid his hands on an idol.
But Wooyoung, Wooyoung is a different story. A half-crazed smile spreads on his face, twisted with sick glee. He doesn't move his head, still staring at the side with malice dancing in his eyes, a remainder of Hajoon's slap. There are bruises and red scrapes on his cheek from the rings adorning Hajoon's hand, which are bound to leave marks, even if they're not permanent. And a vibrant red handprint, the skin slightly raised. Which only amplifies the evidence of how hard the slap was.
Even Donghan looks horrified.
Hajoon is either really fucking blind, or really fucking stupid, because he lowers his hand with a nonchalant shrug. "You were asking for it," he bites, "An idol should know better."
Seonghwa almost isn't enough to hold San back.
Wooyoung's shoulders shake, and hysterical laughter pours from his mouth. He almost looks insane. His gaze slides to his left, fixing onto Hajoon with an almost deranged look that sends shivers up San's spine. To think that his sweet, loving Wooyoung who can't go a day without cuddling someone, could ever look at someone with so much hatred and distaste, however justified it might be.
Hajoon looks slightly shaken now, clearly seeing Wooyoung's state. He had signed his death warrant, and just only realized. How stupid.
Wooyoung only laughs harder. "I'll see you in court with a lawsuit, fucker," he wheezes between laughter, "That one's for Yeosang."
Hajoon's eyes widen as realization dawns on him. He's majorly fucked up now. Even if forgetting Yeosang isn't enough to bring him any consequences, slapping Wooyoung definitely will, especially with the evidence marring the idol's skin. An idol's visual, is arguably, one of their most valued aspects. Even if their company wouldn't lift a finger at Yeosang's unfair treatment, they'd still go berserk over the new imperfections that will probably take a while to heal, and on Wooyoung's face , no less. Those are the hardest to hide.
Then, he does the first smart thing he's done all day and flees, Donghan right on his heels. Wooyoung's crazed expression instantly melts into one of satisfaction, which only increases when Hongjoong pulls him close to examine the marks on his cheek.
"You're so dramatic, Youngie," he murmurs, but there's no bite behind it, only fondness. He tilts Wooyoung's head around gently, gesturing for one of the medics to come over for a better look. Hongjoong doesn't directly touch the print, and San wouldn't either. It looks like it hurts, even if Wooyoung doesn't act like it.
"It worked, didn't it?" Wooyoung says, his eyes fluttering shut as he lets himself be cared for. "I meant every word I said."
"I know you did. Just wish it didn't have to involve you getting hurt," Hongjoong sighs, exasperated. "I'm glad you said something though. Although if you hadn't first, I probably would have."
"I'd do it all over again," Wooyoung says, and it's serious, "Nobody is allowed to hurt Yeosang like that."
Hongjoong only hums in agreement. "Nobody's allowed to hurt one of us," he echoes.
"I told you he'd be fine," Seonghwa says quietly, amused, as they watch the medic patch Wooyoung up, and San squirms, pouting. "He knows how to play it up."
"I knowww," San whines, "But that asshole actually had the nerve-"
"We'll sue him," Seonghwa pats his head, "He can't hurt Yeosang anymore."
San's heart gives an annoyingly hard clench. "I hope he's okay. How dare they-" The thought of Yeosang, sweet, soft Yeosang, walking home alone, still upset and hurt, does things to him, makes his chest squeeze too tight and his arms itch to hold him close.
"We'll call him once we get out of here," Seonghwa promises, "If you want, we can take the small car to pick him up? I need to know he's safe too," he admits.
"Okay. Let's hurry, please. I don't want him to be alone."
Yeosang's eyes stay glued to the floor as he navigates the streets of Korea. According to Naver Maps, there's no way he can get home in anything less than an hour unless he takes transport, and Yeosang doesn't really want to right now.
The icy chill whipping into his bones is a welcome bite, keeping him awake and alert. It also helps him stew over today. He kicks a stray pebble and watches as it skittles over the streets and into the road, where it's promptly run over by a car. Brutal. Feels like how he's feeling right now.
Yeosang… isn't new to being forgotten. Not when he often blends into the background. He's not usually opposed to it. Yeosang doesn't like too much attention, content with letting people like Wooyoung take the spotlight. He's happy watching his friends glow under the spotlight, beautiful stars, each one of them. But being excluded specifically is where his feelings seem to draw the line.
He fights back the tears that threaten to rise up again at the memory of today, digging his hands into his coat pockets. The chill is good, because it stops him from thinking much other than the fact that he's freezing, but ultimately it's not enough.
The first tears that slide down his cheeks are scorching hot in comparison to the bitter cold.
He wipes them away defiantly as he forges on, entirely relying on instinct and muscle memory to guide him home. Yeosang's so busy fighting against his tears that when he looks up, dread settles heavy in his chest when he realizes he has no idea where he is.
Naver isn't working properly when he checks, and he's scared now, lost in big, big Korea with his thoughts trying to drown him. Something gnaws away at his gut, making him feel painfully empty. His stomach churns, spasming with the phantom pain of a cramp that isn't real but no less excruciating. His chest feels painfully tight, like someone's yanked a noose around his upper body, including his neck.
His phone rings at the exact moment he starts to panic, he's sure he is so close to having a panic attack, and he fumbles to answer it, San's number blinking at him from the screen. It takes him three tries to swipe to answer.
"Hi?" he says, and his voice is shaky, which he curses himself for. He's supposed to be mentally stable when he's walking home alone.
"Hey, Sangie," San's voice is quiet, soothing as always, and it makes Yeosang breathe easier, just a little. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah," Yeosang replies automatically, never one to admit his problems, but he looks around and remembers where he's at. "Um… actually, no."
"Mhm," San hums, "Wanna talk about it?" He's so gentle, sounding so unjudgmental, Yeosang fumbles over his thoughts. They slip through his fingers like honey and butter.
He stumbles forward a couple more steps before he gives up, retreating to the nearest alleyway, which has a couple of boxes stacked near the wall. He perches on the cleanest one, clutching his phone to his ear like a lifeline. The cool metal presses against his cheek, almost freezing in the weather.
"I just-" he whispers, and he's embarrassed, so shameful. His throat closes up, the words getting stuck. He doesn't know whether he should talk about today, or the fact that he’s currently lost.
"Take your time, sweetheart," Seonghwa's voice cuts in smoothly, "We have time."
And Seonghwa is so gentle, so kind, it just makes the words spill out of Yeosang's mouth.
“Am I good enough?” he croaks out, and it sounds so unlike him. It's not something he would have started with anyway. Normal Yeosang wouldn't have said anything like that, never one to just… blurt out his insecurities. But normal Yeosang is also not this hurt, this vulnerable, this scared. Normal Yeosang hadn't just been excluded from his group in front of all their fans.
“Of course you are!” San exclaims, but it does nothing to reassure Yeosang like it usually would have. Because he doesn't feel like it.
“Sweetheart.” And it's Seonghwa again, so soft. “Do you want to talk about it? Remember what we said before?”
Don't keep things bottled up in you, Yeosang remembers, a conversation from long ago, We will always be on your side.
So Yeosang exhales, staring at a wet spot on the pavement. It's pathetic how quickly he starts crying. “I feel like you don't need me,” he says thickly, trying in vain to wipe away his tears. “‘s like I'm not important.”
San's silent, and Seonghwa only hums once to acknowledge him. Yeosang keeps talking, and it's like all the things he's been feeling today are spewing out of him, he's helpless to stop it. It feels like he's vomiting out slimy, sludgy gloop, the disgusting concoction crawling up and out his mouth for the world to see.
“It's like,” Yeosang's voice wavers, “Like I'm… replaceable. Cause everyone is needed- in- in some way, and I'm just. Filling a space.” His voice cracks, and he feels shameful.
He ducks his head even though the only witness to his tears is the moon, and hot tears stream down his face to splatter on his lap.
“Nothing I do is good enough,” his voice is small, tiny now, shaking through his shuddering breaths. And he swipes harshly at his face, hoping the pain is enough to snap him out of it. It's not enough. Never enough. Like him. Like his existence. He's overreacting, making a big deal out of nothing, but he can't stop.
“I really try, hyung, I don't know what else I can do,” he admits, “They tell me to do something, and I do it, and then they tell me to do the exact opposite and it’s so confusing, and I’m so lost and it's so scary because I don't know what to do anymore.”
“And- and I keep thinking. Why am I part of ATEEZ?” Yeosang starts crying harder, and it's getting more difficult for him to breathe. “Everyone's better than me. Seonghwa hyung's prettier, Yunho dances better, Jongho sings better, Sannie’s stronger- and the company doesn't even want me to work out even though it really- really made me happy, and-” His own broken sob cuts him off, and he has to gasp in another breath before he can speak. “ATEEZ doesn't need me-” and he's sobbing violently now, his words lost to the wind. He's crying so hard his head is starting to pound, but he can't stop, because he's so embarrassed and so hurt and he feels so small.
“I'm sorry,” he gasps out, convulsing with sobs in the middle of a dark alleyway, alone, alone, and so alone. “‘m sorry for being- for dragging you down- for being a burden, ‘m sorry for being wor-”
“Don't say it,” San snaps, and he sounds so fierce it shocks Yeosang into silence, the only sounds his hiccups and wet sobs. “Don't you dare say you're worthless.”
Yeosang sobs, because how can San say that? San can't say that when it's true.
“You're not worthless!” San repeats, and he sounds close to tears himself. “You're our Yeosang. ATEEZ is nothing without one of us, nothing without you.”
“You work so hard, sweetheart, and they're stupid for not recognizing that,” Seonghwa's voice is cold and warm at the same time. “We need you, okay? We see your efforts, even though they don't. I’m so proud of you for saying it out loud.”
“Yeosangie.” Wooyoung's soft voice makes Yeosang sob harder, and he shakes so hard he doesn't know if it's from his tears or the cold. Had Wooyoung been listening this whole time? Had he been here to witness more of Yeosang's stupid emotions? “Jagiya, where are you?
“I don’ know,” Yeosang whimpers pitifully, “Young-ah, I-”
“Don't apologize,” Wooyoung says, almost sounding angry, “Yeosang, don't. You've done nothing wrong. Those bastards today are the stupid ones.”
“But they-”
“They're wrong !” San sounds frustrated and pissed, indignation positively glowing through his words. “They had no right, absolutely none, to make you feel like that!”
“What they did was absolutely unacceptable,” Seonghwa says quietly, “Sweetheart, please know that. We love you so much, okay?”
The only thing Yeosang can manage is a wet hiccup. He presses his sleeve to his mouth, muffling his sobs. His head feels like cotton, and not in a good way. Everything's so confusing, and all his thoughts are contradicting the things they're saying, and he doesn't know what to believe anymore.
“Sweetheart, listen to my voice, okay?” Seonghwa’s calm voice cuts through his muddled thoughts, and he nods, before realizing Seonghwa can't see him. “Can you pull up Naver and tell hyung where you are?”
“Naver’s not working, hyung,” Yeosang whimpers, his words slurring, “I dunno where ‘m at.”
“Shh,” Seonghwa coos sweetly, “It's okay. Are you far from the building? Can you tell hyung what you see?”
Yeosang sniffles, raising his head weakly. He wipes his eyes to chase away the blur. “Um…” he hiccups, “There's a 7-Eleven, and… um. I don't- I don't know-”
“Good boy, Sangie, hey, hey,” Wooyoung cuts in when his breaths start to hitch, “Breathe for me, hm?”
Yeosang buries his head in his hands and shudders his way into breaths, listening to Wooyoung's voice as the younger guides him to breathe.
“You're okay, jagiya. We're almost there, I promise,” Wooyoung says quietly, “Just hold on for me, yeah?”
“Hey, hyung,” San's voice sounds far off, “Is that him? In that alley?”
Yeosang jolts, his head jerking upwards as a van swerves to a stop outside the alleyway. The door is thrown open and San's built figure is jumping out before the van has even stopped, Seonghwa's scolding voice echoing after him. Yeosang doesn't even have time to react before San is wrapped around him, protective and safe , and it's embarrassing when he can't stop himself from bursting into more tears. The phone clatters from his hands and he sobs, shaking in San's arms. San holds him almost suffocatingly close, clutching his head to his chest.
“Sangie,” he whispers, and it's so raw, Yeosang's heart hurts.
“I'm sorry,” Yeosang sobs repeatedly, convulsing, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so-”
San shushes him, his own sniffles quiet. “Yeosang, don't. Please.”
“We've got you, jagiya, you're safe,” Wooyoung’s voice flows into his ears, another set of arms wrapping around him. It makes Yeosang cry harder, because he's in the arms of people who love him, even when he can't love himself. It hurts so bad, but a little part of him says that as long as he has them, he's okay.
“We need you,” San croaks out, his own tears dripping onto Yeosang. “Please never think otherwise. I need you.”
Wooyoung hums in agreement, sounding like he's about to cry if he opens his mouth.
“ATEEZ is nothing without you,” Wooyoung murmurs, echoing San's earlier words, and his arms tighten around Yeosang, burying his face into Yeosang's neck, where he can feel the trickle of Wooyoung's tears.
Yeosang whimpers, and he clutches San tighter, trembling in their hold. It's so hard to believe them.
“Those bastards are going to pay for what they did,” Wooyoung swears, his voice watery, and it's a promise. “We're going to sue them, and they can never hurt you again.”
“Nobody's allowed to make you feel like you're not worth anything less than the beautiful person you are,” Seonghwa's voice joins them quietly, a gentle hand stroking his hair near his temple. “Least of all our own company. Hongjoongie says he's going to talk to them.”
Yeosang shudders at that, forcing himself to take a breath so he can talk. “Hyung- don't, I don't wanna-”
“You're not a bother,” Seonghwa says, and it's the firmest he's been all day, “They should know better. Hyung's sorry too. We should have said something earlier. Hyung's sorry you had to feel like you're not good enough.”
“It's not true,” San swears fiercely, protectively. “Don't think that.”
“I'd- we'd do anything for you, jagiya. You know that, right?” Wooyoung whispers, nuzzling into his skin. “I'd get punched again a thousand times over for you.”
That makes Yeosang jerk, a watery disbelieving laugh falling from his mouth. “What do you mean, again?”
“I'd get punched again for you, jagiya,” Wooyoung repeats happily, and Seonghwa scoffs, although his smile is stupidly fond.
“This dummy over here got himself slapped so he could sue the person who made the slides,” he sums up, pushing Wooyoung's head with barely any force. Wooyoung whines dramatically at that. “You could have gotten seriously hurt,” Seonghwa scolds, and Wooyoung pouts.
“Wooyoung!” Yeosang exclaims, incredulous. Wooyoung did… what for him?
“What?” Wooyoung's tone is deceivingly innocent, “It didn't even hurt.”
“He's lying,” San snitches, his voice wobbly. “Look at his face.”
“San!” Wooyoung's voice is full of betrayal when Yeosang immediately twists around in San's arms to get a good look at Wooyoung’s face.
Wooyoung's cheek is swollen and still faintly red, with an obvious imprint on it. There are a couple of band-aids on it, most likely covering bruises and scrapes made from rings or other blunt objects.
“Wooyoungie,” Yeosang gasps, tears filling his eyes. There's no way in hell that didn't hurt like a bitch. Wooyoung scoffs, a little guiltily, his eyes darting away.
“It's fine.” His smile is sheepish. “It'll fade.”
Yeosang can't stop the tears from flooding down his cheeks again. “Don't. Don't do this because of me,” he chokes out, “Wooyoungie, please.”
He reaches out to cup Wooyoung's face, but Wooyoung involuntarily hisses the moment his fingers brush over the imprint, revealing just how much pain he's in. Yeosang’s fingers tremble as he caresses Wooyoung's face, his chest heaving with silent sobs.
Wooyoung got hurt for him, because of him. He could have been hurt so badly from a hard slap, and it's honestly lucky all there is is a mark and bruises that will fade.
The guilt must have shown on his face because Wooyoung's gaze steels, and he grabs Yeosang's wrist. “Don't blame yourself,” he orders, “I chose to put myself at risk. I wasn't going to just let them walk over you.” His voice raises slightly. “I would do it all over again,” he swears, his eyes smoldering, “I told you. I'd get punched a thousand times over for you.”
“I don't want you to do that,” Yeosang whispers, cupping Wooyoung's face, careful not to touch his injury. His tear-filled eyes meet Wooyoung's determined ones, and he can feel his own argument crumbling beneath the way he knows Wooyoung will never back down. “I don't want you to get hurt for me,” his voice cracks and San hugs him tighter.
Wooyoung shakes his head, as Yeosang knows he would. “I'm not going to let them hurt us like that,” he says fiercely, “You know that. I'm strong enough for the both of us, jagiya. I can take a couple of hits if it means you know that you mean everything to us. You're my best friend. You're our Yeosang.”
Yeosang's heart clenches painfully, because it hurts, hurts so good. Because Wooyoung is telling him that he's loved. That he's going to protect Yeosang. No matter what. And Yeosang… almost can't believe someone would do that for him.
Yeosang sags, his fingers dancing across his cheek, and Wooyoung leans into the touch like a cat, his determined smile turning smug.
“You won't listen to me, will you?” He sniffles, wiping away his tears with his other hand.
“Nope, jagiya,” Wooyoung says cheerfully, knowing he's won. “When have I ever?”
“Just… please. Be careful,” Yeosang’s lip wobbles with more unshed tears. “Wooyoungie. Please.”
Wooyoung's gaze softens, and he reaches forward to hug Yeosang again. “Course I will. Sorry. But they were being such assholes.” He sniffs. “I couldn't resist. If you were there, you'd understand. I've never wanted to punch someone more.”
“Honestly, yeah.” And Yeosang is surprised when it's Seonghwa who speaks. “I think everyone wanted to hit him, he was being such a jerk it's insane.”
"Jongho was ready to throw hands," San laughs, swiping at his eyes.
Seonghwa only grins, rolling his eyes. "It's only concerning that neither Yunho nor I were that willing to stop any of you. I think if he'd continued any longer, Hongjoong would have let Wooyoung jump him."
Wooyoung only smirks, smug. "And I would have. But he did what I needed him to. Hitting him would have been so satisfactory though."
"No violence," Yeosang squeaks, "Not because of me."
"Okay, okay, Sangie," Seonghwa laughs lightly before Wooyoung can say anything else, "Let's go home. It's getting cold."
Yeosang nods, and squeals when San picks him off his feet like he weighs nothing. He whines the entire time until San deposits him in the backseat of the van, placing Yeosang between his legs. Wooyoung climbs in after, holding Yeosang's phone and laying his head on Yeosang's lap. They make for a weird sight, three grown men sprawled across the backseat, none of them in proper seats.
Seonghwa only sighs, shaking his head when he gets into the driver's seat. "Only because we'll be home soon," he acquiesces. His and because I want you to hold Yeosang like he deserves goes unsaid, but everyone hears it all the same.
It's not long before Wooyoung falls asleep on Yeosang's lap, lured to dreamland by the steady rocking of the van. Yeosang pets his hair mindlessly, knowing how Wooyoung relaxes more when someone holds him while he sleeps.
Yeosang feels drowsy too, a little cried out and drained from today. San holds him close and lets him lean against his chest. San laces their hands together, playing with his fingers, and Yeosang feels okay for once, sandwiched between his family.
At a red light, Seonghwa's eyes meet Yeosang's droopy ones in the rearview mirror and he smiles softly. "Go to sleep, sweetheart," he says, "I'll wake you guys when we get home."
Yeosang nods, blinking slowly. He's almost asleep when San starts speaking ever so quietly next to his ear, so quiet he doesn't even know if Seonghwa can hear.
"I love you so much, Yeosangie," San murmurs, resting his cheek on the top of his head, "Please know that."
Yeosang nods, I know on the tip of his tongue, but San isn't done talking.
"You're good enough. You're more than good enough. You know that, right? ATEEZ needs you, we love you. You work too hard to be discarded like this, but it's gonna be different now." San sounds like he's being completely honest. "Hongjoongie hyung's gonna make sure of that. It's eight makes one team, Sangie, and it's time we make that clear. I love you… Okay?" San whispers, pressing his lips to Yeosang's hair. "Never forget that. You're worth everything."
Yeosang's eyes flutter shut, tears leaking out and a lump forming in his throat. Dammit San, he's cried enough to last him a whole week.
"Thank you, Sannie," he whispers, his voice hoarse. "I love you."
"I love you so much," San whispers back, holding him close, and Yeosang feels it, actually feels loved. A kind of warmth spreading into his chest, soft, steady, serene. "You're so beautiful, Yeosang. I need you to know that."
San murmurs compliments into his hair in that soothing, gentle voice of his, as he traces patterns into Yeosang's skin. Yeosang can't help the way his thoughts start to melt away as he sinks into San's embrace, San's voice like a lullaby to his ears.
You're so beautiful. So ethereal. So talented. You’re gorgeous inside and out and never let anyone tell you otherwise. You work so hard, my Yeosang. You try so hard. I love your voice. The way you sing. The way you sound when you speak. I love how you dance, the way you flow like water, and hit angles like fire. The way you smile. The way your eyes light up. The way you look when you're truly, undoubtedly happy. I miss that look, I want to make you smile more. The way I want to hold you until you learn to love yourself the way I love you. How I want you to see yourself the way ATEEZ sees you. I want to hurt anyone who hurts you. You're so kind, so sweet, so gentle. You love so much. You care so much, almost too much. You're so timid, Yeosangie, but I can speak up for you. I want to love you like you deserve, my Yeosang. I love you. I love you so much. I love you, I love you, I love you, and I'll make sure you know it.
Yeosang falls asleep to San's voice, tears sprinkling his lashes and cheeks, and maybe, he thinks, just maybe, everything will be okay. Maybe he's safe, maybe he's loved, and maybe that's enough for him to be happy again.