(Mis)matched || {WOOSAN}

chapter 9: From Afar

Today, San had dressed up. No one knew why. His friends saw him get out, Seonghwa gripping hard the handles of Hongjoong's wheelchair, who kindly smiled at him, letting him know that San was sensible, he wouldn't do anything to harm himself. Jaeshin smiled too, thinking it was good. Jongho, was nowhere to be seen, probably giving his boyfriend princess treatment.

San was going to get over Wooyoung, pamper himself to recovery and find someone else, someone whom he really deserved. That was what he thought. Who knew, that on his way to the Violet Ray Bridge, he'd find the man that he wanted to avoid all along.

<Present>
San looked at the sparkling violet below him, seeing his reflection, telling himself it wasn't that hard, no love is too strong to be turned to unlove.

He smiled, a genuine one, after so long.

It felt good, he gripped the rail and walked to the head, dipping his feet in the water. But like a broken record, he saw his face, again and again. Again and again.

How he came after 8 hours, after that tended to him the whole night and unknowingly, a smile cradled his handsome face, making even the passer bys stagger and look back, just to steal a glance at the statue like beauty bathed in the sunlight.

Another passer by? San didn't care. He was there to enjoy himself, get over his own self pity and grief.

But the feet never moved forward. They just stopped. And out of the corner of his feline eyes, what he saw was the black boots.

He looked up so eagerly that l he forgot why he was even there, expecting the face he had become familiar with, the face he missed, the face of the caring boy whom he called his first love.

The moment their eyes met, nothing mattered but them. Not the sparkling water all around, not his bare feet, not his swollen eyes, not his heartbreak.

He sprang up, his smile widening by paces, then disappearing as he remembered what had happened about a week ago, while Wooyoung stood as if his soul had left his body. San didn't know whether he was real, or just his hallucination, having the mad urge to touch him.

He retracted back his body and slowly walked back to the rail, his expression morbid, as Wooyoung's eyes never left his figure.

The week had been tough on Wooyoung too. Guilt. Remembrance. Regrets. What not, he was caged, he felt like a prisoner caged in his thoughts. Nothing interested him, except when he thought about San, and when could he see him again.

Now that he was right there, he had gone dumb. He couldn't speak. He couldn't feel.

He didn't know why he felt like tearing the eyes of those who looked at San in the way they shouldn't.

He didn't know why he went dumb.

He didn't know why he had this inexplicable urge to hold him and comfort him.

He didn't know why he wanted to hear his voice again, hear him sing again.

He didn't know why he couldn't stop looking at him, remembering the tiniest of things about him.

He didn't know why he felt guilty and terrible.

He didn't know why he felt heartbroken too.

He didn't know why he felt like he'd lost something precious, when it was him who walked away.

He didn't know why he ran to San, to give him his shoes he had left behind. "Hey! Your shoes!"

<Bonus flashback> Eight months back
Wooyoung's POV

There I was, right on the lead track. Today is the athletics event. I am one of the lead athletes for the sprint.

I took a deep breath. The gun fired. The smoke came out of the pistol.

I was sure to win the race before.

But not so much now, not when my leg is twisted beyond repair.

This morning, it just happened that I woke up with a startle, and as soon as my feet touched the ground, a very heavy pain shattered my legs.

I tried my best. But with a half broken left leg, there is only so much I could do.

I came out of the track without a rank to my name, bearing no medals howsoever but my leg aching like it has never before.

My leg made me incapable of walking further. So, I collapsed right outside the track.

I could feel cameras on me, girls peering at me with smartphones in their hands.

"Jinju, did you know that he said he'd win?"

"What a joke, Yuna! Don't you realise he's only doing this to get sympathy? He isn't actually hurt!"

And they ran away, laughing. They don't even care about the fact that I was right there, listening to all that crap.

I groaned out again, almost an inhuman roar due to the pain I was in. But no one paid attention. All those bootlickers who used to flock around me, now gape and gossip about me.

This fucking sucks.

I hold the painful place.

Still no one tries to come forward and help.

Then, a hazy silhouette battles through the crowd. San pushes and pulls, making me forget about the pain and instead look at him with interest. He wears a mask, long enough to make him unrecognisable.

"Please, excuse me! Excuse me!"

When he sees me, he doesn't waste a moment and comes to check my leg.

"It's pretty bad. You pulled a muscle. Let's get you up."

I didn't respond. I was too stupefied to speak. I looked around. There were all my friends. None of them helped me. But this guy, who I hadn't interacted with for the past three months, was there for me.

He suddenly sprayed something on my leg, a pain reliever. Then he pushed my leg to such an angle, pulling out an inhumane scream out of me.

But a moment later, nothing remained. All the pain had evaporated.

I looked at him gratefully as he slowly pulled me up, not bothering to tell the people to shut the cameras.

He draped my arm around his shoulders and lead me out, into a safe space.

When we have finally sat down, I speak, "Thank you, San."

He just smiles at me, showing off his dimples. "It's what any doctor would do."

Funny, none of the students in the crowd did what he did. "And also, don't feel too bad. You already have enough prizes and awards to display on a separate wall. Let those shit mouths run their mouths as long as they can. You're better than them anyway!"

Then he turned away and left.

I will never forget that day. How everyone else turned against me, how they were totally ruining everything I had built up on the internet, but that one person who came to me and healed me, I will forever be grateful to Choi San for that.

A certain level of respect for him rested itself in my heart.

And something made it flutter each time I saw him after that, something unexplainable.

Truth is, none of the hate comments online mattered to me as I remembered San's words.

Because I had someone to stand up for me. At least someone was there for me.