bleeding love • woosan

I'M TIRED.

This chapter contains drug use and mentions of an overdose.

I'm Tired - Labrinth ft. Zendaya. 

It seemed as though the universe was intentionally toying with Wooyoung. Since Wooyoung's encounter with San a week ago, the man has been showing up everywhere.

Ten years had passed without them seeing each other, yet now it seemed like San was everywhere Wooyoung looked.

Just two days ago, Jaehyun dragged Wooyoung to a new coffee shop that had opened near the studio.

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"I hate you," Wooyoung whined as Jaehyun pulled him along the street. They'd both got wasted last night, but their hangovers were hitting them in different ways. Wooyoung's head was throbbing, and all he wanted was to curl up indoors away from the glaring sun, while Jaehyun was itching for some fresh air.

And when Jaehyun had his mind set on something, there was no changing it.

"Yeah, yeah," Jaehyun dismissed him. "I heard their food is fucking awesome."

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. "I don't care," he huffed. Just thinking about food was making him feel sick. He knew Jaehyun was dragging him out for a different reason – to get him to eat. Wooyoung was grateful to have a friend as caring as him, but sometimes it bothered him. Especially when he was feeling as out of it as now.

Jaehyun stopped in front of the coffee shop, turning to face Wooyoung with a flashy grin on his face.

"You are so annoying," Wooyoung sighed, giving up as soon as he saw the grin on his friend's face. How could anyone say 'no' to that?

Jaehyun intertwined their arms before pushing the door open, the wind chimes at the entrance gently jingling. As they stepped inside, a warm aroma of coffee and freshly baked pastries hit them, and Wooyoung scrunched his nose. That was too much for his hangover.

Wooyoung looked around the coffee shop. Plush armchairs and rustic wooden tables filled the room, each corner looking quite cozy. Minimalistic artwork decorated the walls along with wooden shelves with vintage coffee mugs resting on them. The place looked nice and peaceful, but it was far from it. It was quite crowded, and the chatter of people around them worsened Wooyoung's headache.

"It looks nice."

Jaehyun looked at him. "Huh?"

"I said, it looks nice," Wooyoung said a little louder now.

Eagerly nodding his head, Jaehyun flashed yet another grin. The man went on to ramble about God knows what – Wooyoung simply zoned out as he looked at the pastries they had on the counter as they stood in the line.

However, the wind chimes jingling once again caught his attention. For some unknown reason, Wooyoung turned his head around, his gaze landing on none other than San. Although the place was full and noisy, he somehow sensed San's presence entering the coffee shop. There he was – standing at the door in his fancy suit with a phone pressed up to his ear. Wooyoung's heart was pounding in his chest, and fuck, he felt nauseous again. San's eyes scanned the room before his eyes met Wooyoung's.

The hungover man quickly turned his head around, his tired eyes fixating on the vinyl planks laid out before him. His hands started shaking again, and Jaehyun noticed the change in his behaviour. The taller man wrapped his arm around Wooyoung's shoulder, almost as if he was shielding him from the world around them.

Wooyoung made himself look smaller in Jaehyun's arms.

He could feel San's eyes boring into him, but thankfully, the man kept his distance and didn't approach Wooyoung.

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Even though the wound had never healed, Wooyoung managed to not think about San's existence. His days usually consisted of making art and busying himself with work now that he owned a tattoo studio, but nights were the hardest. To quiet the noise in his head, he'd get high on anything he had around, finding comfort in the numbness it brought. Sometimes, he'd pass out before the memories could catch up. It wasn't the best way to cope, but it got him through.

Until now.

Even the drugs couldn't help him keep the past off his mind these days. It made him realize that he needed something stronger, something that could numb his pain and quiet his thoughts. Unfortunately, that "something" was a thing Wooyoung had promised himself he wouldn't use again.

That was how he found himself, once again lost in the haze of heroin. The first time he ever tried the drug – it felt like heaven. How else to describe it? People described it as an orgasm, but that is something completely different. An orgasm comes quickly, builds quickly and then leaves quickly. For Wooyoung, the rush came quickly, engulfed his whole being and it stayed and kept getting stronger and stronger. It made him fall back onto his bed, and he could only describe it as falling from the sky and landing on a pile of millions of feathers.

The high was never a problem; until it was. Things changed. The last time he used heroin, he noticed a strong tingling sensation running through his body. Everything burned, and it didn't feel as good as it did before. Wooyoung ended up passing out, smacking his face against the table in front of him. That night was erased from his memory, but Jaehyun ended up finding him slumped on the floor, blood covering his nose. Wooyoung had apparently overdosed. The withdrawals were a pain in the ass, so he promised himself to never go through that again.

Yet, here he was, stumbling through the dimly lit alleyway and towards his studio. Going home was not an option in his current state, and the studio was his second home either way. His arm throbbed with a dull ache, and he glanced down, realizing his sleeve was still scrunched up. Was he walking around like that? Through his blurry vision, Wooyoung could see the bruised vein surrounded by red marks and dried blood.

"Whatever," he murmured to himself before walking towards the door, the trembling hands reaching into his pockets for the keys.

The keys kept slipping through his fingers as Wooyoung tried to unlock the door. Each failed attempt made his frustration grow.

"Fucking hell," he groaned, banging his forehead against the door.

Giving up all hope, Wooyoung sank onto the ground, his weight resting heavily against the door. A dry laugh escaped his lips as he looked up at the sky. Once religious like his parents, his faith had shattered along with his world in that car crash. If there truly was a God, then he must be a cruel bastard, letting a sixteen-year-old become an orphan.

"Must be so... funny," he spoke to the sky, chuckling bitterly. "'s all your fault, you know?"

Wooyoung felt like he had finally gone crazy. Talking to the sky as if someone would answer.

A single tear slipped down his cheek, and Wooyoung closed his eyes. His muscles felt like silly putty, and he had no strength in his body anymore. As he sat there, all the noises around him blended into one. The sound of cars passing and blaring their horns, the chatter of people passing by the alleyway...

Everything seemed overwhelmingly loud. Life itself felt deafening.

However, a familiar voice pierced through the loudness.

"Wooyoung?"

Convincing himself it must be some sort of a hallucination, Wooyoung kept his eyes closed. But, the voice just kept calling his name, and the tone of it grew more worried as he stayed unresponsive. Shuffling was heard from his left side like someone was throwing their bag onto the ground.

What a weird hallucination, he thought, a first for sure.

Cold hands cradled Wooyoung's face, and that feeling jolted him back to reality. He managed to open his bloodshot eyes. Through the blurry vision, all Wooyoung could see was a pair of tear-filled eyes staring right into his own.

"Shit, what... What have you done?"

It took Wooyoung a moment to realize who was speaking to him. Blinking a few times, he tried to clear his vision enough to see the man's face.

"Sa– San...?"