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The night dragged on silently. At least that was how it felt to Wooyoung. He was dreaming of the homely and idyllic gateway that was Jeju Island, a place he used to go often with his family. It was a childhood memory, one that he cherished too fondly in his heart and that now became a dream, an almost real dream as if he could step through the threshold dividing fantasy and reality and be there once again. In this paradise, he could put behind him any turbulence that tormented him, even if for a while.
That was until he heard it: a soft sob, almost inaudible in the stillness of the night, which soon became a muffled whine. It was so small, just a tiny whisper in the dimness that would have been dismissed if it hadn’t stirred a slight alarm through Wooyoung. He was immediately awake, his heart beating hectically as he focused on the darker patch of black in his room. The silhouette was too familiar and too tangible, so he lifted a hand to touch it lightly lest he’d scare it. The body under his palm was too real, so it wasn’t a figment of his imagination. And it was also too fragile in the faint shakiness that was palpable in the air.
“Sangie?” His voice was gentle, yet it made Yeosang startle just a little. Without saying anything else, Wooyoung sat up on his bed, casting aside his duvet and fully alert now.
Yeosang’s energy was off, like a wounded animal daunted by some inner demon haunting him. Even the softest of touches seemed to jolt him off. The filtered light of the moon cast around Wooyoung’s room enough to allow him to see Yeosang’s hands curled into tight fists at his side, yet he couldn’t fully see his expression. But from his stiff posture, Wooyoung just knew Yeosang needed him.
“Yeosang, what happened?”
“Can I… can I stay here for the night?” Yeosang stuttered. His words were barely a murmur lost in the quietness of the room, a shy whisper that had Wooyoung’s heart somersaulting with a sense of fear as well as safeguarding.
It wasn’t the first time Yeosang had come to his room in search of solace during the night, both of them hurting in their own personal way and terrified of the nightmares that plagued their minds. During those nights, they didn’t want to fight the vastness of their suffering alone. Especially Yeosang, whose soul had been tormented by flashbacks to when he felt alone, imprisoned in a glass cage, while wishing for death to claim him until his friends saved him. World Z had broken him beyond anything Wooyoung could understand. Instead, he could only carry Yeosang’s pain, lift his burden by providing reassurance when he could, and allow his friend to be vulnerable without judgement.
“Of course. Come here.”
Wooyoung’s hand moved from Yeosang’s arm to his shoulder. There was a slight hesitation at first before Yeosang allowed him to pull him into his embrace. He fell heavily onto Wooyoung’s arms, almost as if desperate to feel safe. And once nestled comfortably there, with his head in Wooyoung’s chest, where his heart thumped sorrowfully, Yeosang’s tears came undone, unashamed. Wooyoung’s arms tightened around him, shushing Yeosang quietly and rocking him back and forth while planting soft and tender kisses on the crown of Yeosang’s head.
“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice strangled a little.
It broke Wooyoung’s heart to witness his best friend so dispirited. Yeosang had always been the most selfless of the two of them. His humble humaneness was a trait that people often took advantage of. His innocence was too pure, his kind soul too righteous, and his compassionate heart too naive. The corruption of despair he had experienced while locked up by the Android Guardians had wrecked him. He had been strong, enduring it all alone and fighting to survive. However, even the strongest heart occasionally falls apart; emotions can be overwhelming.
“It’s okay, Sangie, let it all out,” Wooyoung said. His own eyes were beginning to sting, but he blinked away the unwashed tears and swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. This moment wasn’t about his pain; it was about Yeosang needing someone to be strong for him. “I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere.”
Wooyoung hadn’t known that desperation and relief could walk hand-in-hand until he had witnessed it in Yeosang’s eyes when Seonghwa had used the Cromer to save him. It had taken a while before Yeosang’s mind returned from its seclusion within its own trauma back to them.
Yeosang’s cries subsided after a while. The silence of the bedroom was solely broken by his soft snuffles and the percussion of their heartbeats together. Wooyoung’s arms never once let Yeosang go, protecting him from the invisible ghosts of the pain his friend had been facing. With his cheek resting lazily on top of Yeosang’s head, Wooyoung felt his arms wrap around his middle now, returning the embrace tightly before his nose was tucked in the crook of Wooyoung’s neck, the tip cold against his skin.
“See? I’m still here,” he commented lightly, with a warm smile when Yeosang sighed in relief.
They remained like that, the quietness comfortable between them. They didn’t require extra words to fill the air between them. Wooyoung didn’t want to move and didn’t want to break the perfect bubble of shelter he had offered until Yeosang was ready to lessen its grip on it. So instead of breaking their embrace, he moved just enough to lie back down on his bed, bringing Yeosang along with him as he did so. Yeosang loosened his arms around his middle just a little to latch to his side, nestling perfectly as if he had always belonged there.
“Comfortable?” Wooyoung asked, to which Yeosang replied with a swift nod and a sound from the back of his throat. Kissing Yeosang’s temple, he added, “Wanna talk about it?”
Yeosang shivered ever so faintly within his arms at the kiss, and Wooyoung knew he would never admit to enjoying it. The thought made him smile a little and offer him another kiss, this one longer.
“No.” Yeosang’s voice was strangled and raw due to his cries.
“You know I’ll never let go, right?” Yeosang snuffled in reply. Wooyoung just tightened his arms and kept on planting kisses on Yeosang’s temple, head, forehead, and anywhere he could kiss. “And whenever you want to talk, I’ll always be here for you. Just say the word, and I’ll be there.”
“I know,” Yeosang acknowledged in a croak.
Wooyoung let the silence fall again between them. Alone in the dimness of his room, their companionship was witnessed by the moonlight that bathed them in liquid silver. Flashes of memories taunted him, and quite possibly Yeosang too, for he twitched more than once in his arms, only relaxing whenever Wooyoung offered him more soft kisses and drew random patterns with his fingertips along Yeosang’s arm.
“Feeling better now?” Wooyoung asked after Yeosang sighed deeply. His shoulders had eased up a little, and his breathing was regular now. Even his heartbeat seemed to relax, matching Wooyoung’s in its precise and lenient drumming.
“Yes,” came Yeosang’s low reply. Following his words came a yawn, so random it had Wooyoung snorting lightly in amusement. “Thank you.”
“You’re my soulmate, Yeosang,” Wooyoung said, squeezing Yeosang in his arms to the point of having his friend complain. “It’s my sole duty to make you feel better.”
“Make me feel better, not crush my bones,” Yeosang protested, but Wooyoung could hear the lightness in his deep voice, finally eclipsing the frail fear from his tone.
“Shush, stop complaining now. You love my hugs,” Wooyoung returned, playfully smacking Yeosang’s arm so he’d stop squirming. “These are hugs that heal.”
“Woo, I can’t breathe.”
With a chuckle, Wooyoung let go just to let Yeosang plop his head back on his chest. He smiled contentedly at having Yeosang in the physical protection of his warmth. For now, this was all he could give him, allowing his friend to feel secure until he wished to open up about what plagued his mind. He wouldn't push him; he wouldn’t demand Yeosang to talk about his trauma in fear it would make him retreat into the seclusion of his own shadows, where his trauma resided.
All seven of them had promised it to Yeosang.
“Can I sleep here tonight?” Yeosang asked again in a sleepy tone, followed by a stubborn yawn.
“You’re not going anywhere now,” Wooyoung replied. He squeezed his arms a little as if to prove a point.
Yeosang murmured something that sounded like a ‘thank you’ again, but his words were interrupted by yet another yawn and soft sigh that he probably didn’t even realise had sounded so absurdly endearing.
“You’re welcome,” Wooyoung whispered back as a reply to Yeosang’s gratitude. He heard him coo faintly, probably smiling a little at the reassurance.