chapter 02

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san wooyoung

the dreaded day of jongho's party had arrived. san had mostly stayed out of the way, while people he didn't even know came in and out of his house to lay out abundant arays of alcohol.

jongho had meerly smiled apologetically at him, pointing up the stairs to indicate san must go to his room and not come out of it. san had obligied, but now his throat felt like sand paper and burned for something to quench his likely dehydration (he had been shut in his room for 2 hours, so this was a bit melodramatic), so he decided no one would mind if he popped down for a drink, as the party had not even begun yet.

jumping up from his unslept bed, he shuffled and faltered by the door, wondering if he should go.

what if jongho's friends are already here to help? half of him pondering, his anxiety prodding. screw them, the more logical part of him reasoned, and he opened the door and made his way down the stairs.

upon hearing voices and a chorus of laughter in the kitchen, he decided jongho definitely had company, but paying no mind to them he agreed with himself to enter the room, pour a glass of water ignoring them all entirely, and leaving.

as soon as he stepped foot on the white kitchen tiles, the room went a bit quiet, like a machine suddenly turned off. san kept his eyes on the floor (the lovely, spotless kitchen floor), heading straight to the water dispenser in the fridge door.

the sharp clink of the glass he had to stand on his toes to take from the cupboard filled the silence, seeming much louder in his head than reality, the sound bouncing off the walls. clearing his throat, he stood awkwardly by the fridge while his glass filled antagonizingly slowly, focusing on the sound of rushing water.

"san-" he heard the voice of jongho start, but was interupted by another he did not recognize.

"this is your brother?" the question caused san to look up briefly, not used to being the subject of conversation.

the speaker was none other than jung wooyoung, whom san knew next to nothing of, as perfectly composed and effortlessly attractive as he always seemed to be. the boy bit his lip, swiping his eyes up and down san's body, as if scanning and memorizing which parts of him where easiest to beat up later. (this was the only reason most people looked at him, san found).

uncomfortable from wooyoung's piercing gaze that remained transfixed on him, san looked down, very interested in the floor tiles once more.

"yes, this is my brother." jongho drawled out in a bored fassion.
"my lovely brother, who should not be here."

"your lovely hot brother," wooyoung said under his breath, probably not intending for san to hear.

but he did.

san blushed deeply, swearing under his breath when he realized his glass was long since full, cold water splashing onto his feet. fumbling with the dispencer, he practically sprinted from the room, glass in hand, the contents occasionally splashing out as he rushed clumsily up the stairs. wooyoung's soft laugh only infuriated him further, and he slammed his door childishly before setting his glass down and collapsing face first onto his bed.

the things i do for hydration. he tutted himself, hugging his sleeping companion (shiber) to his face.

or rather, cuddling companion, because san didn't really sleep very often. he had severe insomnia, and the only thing to make him get at least 2 hours of sleep was cuddling shiber, even though the cuddling didn't always work.

sighing to himself, san sat up rubbed his eyes tiredly, fishing his phone from his jean pocket. he scrolled through his contacts until coming across yeosang's, and pressed dial.

soft - woosanWhere stories live. Discover now