There is no content warnings for this chapter xx
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╰┈➤ 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ੈ✩‧₊˚
The moment San leaves, Wooyoung sinks back into bed, tugging the comforter over his legs and pressing into his cold pillow, hoping to distract away from the anxiety that came as a result of San's discussion with his father. Wooyoung didn't know what could come of a conversation between the two, but if San was adamant about wanting to discuss things, then Wooyoung wouldn't stop him.
He knew that San was just trying to repair everything because he had felt responsible for the collapse of their entire arrangement. Wooyoung didn't blame him like his parents had, or some of Seoul's oblivious and disgusting people who had watched the entire thing erupt into flames. Truthfully, Wooyoung just wanted San home. There was nothing they could do to repair everything, considering statements had been put out by both parties expressing the slightly overly dramatic details in respect to their separation.
Wooyoung had listened to his mother harass him for several minutes on a phone call, yelling and ranting in a tangent, expressing her disapproval for Wooyoung's continued relationship with San despite it all, and even as he tried to make her listen, she simply refused. She ignored every word, every plea for understanding, every simple reach Wooyoung could muster in a broken voice, hoping that the pain from her own son would be enough to catch her attention. But, she continued, raving about how San was a cheater and was manipulative, getting into Wooyoung's bed when he had someone else in his. After a grueling near-twenty minutes on the phone, Wooyoung snapped, his composure lost, letting venomous words echo off of his tongue, bleeding through with the only honesty he could ravage. "San isn't a cheater. Fuck you and fuck off."
Ever since then, it has been near silence. His parents continued to parade Beomgyu and Sun-hee around, distracting from the turmoil in relation to their 'failure' of their other son, but Wooyoung didn't care. He had San, and somehow, even despite all of this, Wooyoung felt hopeful.
He wasn't sure if his parents would arrange to marry him off again, especially since that was all they knew for apparent years. His family spent decades forcing their sons and daughters into relationships they likely didn't want because of a duty to uphold the family name.
Wooyoung didn't want this anymore. This pressure to be at the head table, to make financial decisions and keep the status of Jung Technologies at its peak while also rising even higher. To manage an empire with a stern grasp, to order around employees in the same manner his parents had; it wasn't what he wanted for his future. For so long, Wooyoung had spent years knowing that this future awaited him, settling into a forced marriage to secure the title of holding the most power one could ever take advantage of.
But, as he rests here, staring into the grooves of the ceiling with a subtle sigh, he feels the weight of a cold reminder settle across his skin. He was still wearing his ring.
Looking over, Wooyoung lets the light hit it, watching as each diamond shines back at him, casting a perfect glow of the black diamonds and the dark metals, wishing that there had been a proper memory behind such a beloved piece of jewelry. There was no promise held within this, no words attached, just a box and a threat from his parents, leaving him to wonder if he should even continue to wear it.
He loved what it stood for in terms of being wed to the one person he loved more than anything, but the fact that San hadn't picked it out, hadn't proposed, and held nearly no importance beyond his mother's will to force her son into something he didn't necessarily want at the time strung Wooyoung's heart astray. Maybe he should discuss it with San. Maybe he should ask if this ring holds the same level of importance to him before he decides on anything, even if it had been a piece of silver bought by his parents.
Still, he keeps it on, letting his hand fall back to his bed, turning to face the windows that were to his left. San's side of the bed felt so absent and empty, the ghost of him still lingering between the sheets. The duvet smelled like him, as did most of his bed and his clothes at this point, considering that Wooyoung could hardly go a simple minute without touching him or smothering him in affection. But this loneliness, even if only for an hour or so, had felt like the perfectly painted picture of his life if their parents truly sought to rip them apart.
He knew he was an adult and that he could make his own decisions, but his finances were withheld by his parents, connected to their accounts, forever entangled within their grasp, remaining as a puppet for his parental puppeteers. He wanted to seek independence and stray away from this life, but this had been all he knew. A life at the will of his parents, following along like an obedient puppy, committing to every will and wish, doing as he was told, only to receive a paycheck and an allowance to simply exist within given boundaries.
No relationships. No smoking. Eat healthily. Don't ruin your image. Remain friends with good people, not those who could ruin you. No overindulgence in alcohol.
He felt like a prisoner rather than their son, strung along simply for the fact that he was important in their means of a successful company lineage. Beomgyu existed, though, which only strung the belief of being able to disentangle himself from his parent's sinful ties, chasing after the things he wanted rather than running away from them like he had promised. He was a person with feelings and desires, even if all of his wants were associated with a person and their very own existence, but that was Wooyoung's one and only wish in this life. He wanted San. At his side, in his bed, in his home; just in any way he could simply have him.
At this point, twenty minutes had passed, leaving Wooyoung to finally roll out of bed with lazy steps. Unwillingly, he avoids changing his clothes, remaining in the same joggers and the same baggy gray tee, moping into the living space with his phone in his palm. Settling on the couch with a huff, he pulls out his contact list, dialing Yeosang's number, hoping that he could use his best friend to null away the time spent away from San like the clingy partner he was.
"Hello?"
"Hi Sangie, what are you doing?"
"Just got home from Jongho's. Why? What's up?"
"Sannie is gone dealing with some business for a bit, so I need a distraction. I'm a bit lonely and nervous."
"A distraction, huh?" Yeosang muses, light laughter following his words. "You're quite attached to him, aren't you?"
"You have no idea. I feel like a depressed puppy." Wooyoung muses sadly, a fake pout woven across his lips, listening as Yeosang laughs again.
"Well, I can tell you a bit about my night last night, if you want me to, that is."
"Go for it." Wooyoung murmurs, settling further into the arm of the sofa, waiting to listen to whatever rambled story Yeosang had to tell.
"Okay, so–" Yeosang begins. "We watched a movie last night on his couch. It was a murder mystery of sorts, and he was really into it."
"Okay, but were you?"
"No." Yeosang laughs, his guilt audible. "I felt really bad because he loves that movie and I absolutely hated it."
"Did you tell him that?" Wooyoung asks with a smile, listening as Yeosang sighs.
"Of course I didn't. What kind of partner would I be if I told him I disliked it?"
"Don't skew your words, Sangie. You said that you hated it, just be honest!"
Yeosang drawls, a groan leaving his lips through the speaker of Wooyoung's phone. "You're one to talk here, Youngie. You liked San for weeks and you wouldn't just tell him."
"Okay, you pabo, that was different! He literally had a toxic girlfriend at the time, what was I to do?"
"Fine, fine! But still. Jongho is a sensitive guy at times, and I really cherish the times where he shows me the things he likes and what he finds interest in. He doesn't have much time to do things he enjoys, but when he does, it's really sweet. I just want to squish him."
"You're being so gross." Wooyoung groans, listening to Yeosang's bubbly laughter once more.
"Tell me about Sannie. Doesn't he have a specific look when he's enjoying something? Like he's so infatuated and so cute when he's watching a specific show or doing something?"
"Well, of course. Everything he does is cute to me. I think I enjoy watching him cook, because he feels so at peace doing it. He gets so focused, and he has this little crease in his brow when he's concentrating. Sometimes he bites his lip when he's really into something that he's doing, but when he cooks, he's so relaxed."
"He really likes to take care of you, doesn't he?"
"It's all he does sometimes. I try to offer to cook for him, but he never lets me." Wooyoung laughs quietly, chewing on his lip in remembrance. "He insists that he only ever wants to spend time with me, even if he works out like a maniac still."
"Jongho works out too, probably not as obsessively. He tends to work out his stress in the manner of making music, and I've suggested that he should meet with Hongjoong to collaborate sometime. They'd make really good music together, I'd bet."
"Mm," Wooyoung hums, nodding his head in agreement. "Hongjoong is really talented. I still want to meet Jongho, by the way. I never had the chance to."
"Oh, you'll love him. He's sweet and he's charismatic, but he's kind of a shit head and has childish humor sometimes."
"Don't all of our partners share that trait? Aren't they all shit heads?" Wooyoung muses, listening to Yeosang laugh.
"Of course. Sannie is a shit, as is Joong. Jongho would mesh really well into our group, if only he had the time. His schedule is just so busy, and it's crazy! I never knew a working soloist could have such a busy life–"
Yeosang's voice trails out as Wooyoung feels his phone vibrate, tapping on his screen as he places the call on speaker. He was vaguely listening, but his attention was immediately drawn to a text from his beloved, earning a smile on his face almost instantly.
Choi San ♡
I'm here, love. One step closer to being home. What're you up to?
Smiling, Wooyoung responds back quickly, humming in acknowledgement as Yeosang continues on his tangent.
On the phone with Sangie. He's nonstop gloating about Jongho, right now. I'm miserable. Please come save me, my Sannie.
Choi San ♡
My Wooyoung, I'll be home soon. Don't forget to scold Yeosang for making you suffer through the details of his relationship with Jongho. Or, you could torture him with ours, instead. Your choice, my love.
Stifling a laugh, Wooyoung replies back again, biting down on his lower lip.
I will smother him with details about our future honeymoon. I can't wait to make him sick with the descriptions of our love as payback. I'll see you soon, Sannie.
"Wooyoung? Are you even listening to me?"
"Of course I am, I was just texting Sannie back. What'd you say?"
"You two are so gross for one another, it makes me sick. Anyway–" Yeosang sighs, attempting to reiterate his point. "Jongho probably has some free time next week. I know he mentioned having a few days off to decompress a bit from recording sessions, so I can probably ask about meeting up soon? Maybe Hwa and Joong can tag along, too?"
"Ah, yeah. Please. It's a needed distraction. I'd love nothing more than to forget all of this shit happening right now."
"I'll talk to him about it." Yeosang sighs, shuffling around on the other end of the line. "Otherwise, what's been going on? It's been a week since. . . y'know. How are things?"
"Uhm," Wooyoung's brows pinch, gaze drifting to his lap as he pulls a nearby gray blanket over his legs. "It's hard, sometimes. I want to sit here and say that I'm unaffected by this, but it's getting to me, little by little. The idea of my parents forcing us apart or making me marry someone else makes me sick. He's all I want, and they just don't care. My needs are never of their concern and all they stress about is making sure that the company is well taken care of."
"I'm sorry, Woo. They care, you know. You're their son–"
"I feel like a burden to them in all of this. They clearly love Beomgyu more and it shows in the way that he was raised versus how I was raised. He was given the freedom to do what he wanted, to choose his outlets and his hobbies. I was left alone, my awards and successes shoved away because they just weren't good enough. I don't even know why they chose me for this if they favor him so much."
"You're older, aren't you?"
"Mm," Wooyoung hums, picking at the blanket absently. "Not by much, though. Part of me wishes that I would've turned all of this away, that my stupid heart would just let go of the idea of them being proud of me."
"You can't help that. Look where you are now, yeah? You have San, who, if you ask me, is an incredible partner to have. He is so loving and affectionate towards you, and it shows. The way you talk about him is unlike anything I've heard before." Yeosang sighs, pausing his sentiments to capture his thoughts perfectly. "Listen, Woo. I know things are hard and seem so dark right now, but let San be the light to guide you through it. You and I both know that you will do anything to stay at his side, and you will not let your parents force you anywhere unless it's with him."
"My fear is that they're going to marry me off again, Yeosang." Wooyoung mumbles, hand continuously picking at the blanket, still. "I won't have a choice, just like I hadn't with San. This life. . . this responsibility–"
Wooyoung's voice breaks, a heavy sigh breaching through the impasse of his words. It felt hard to admit to, the weight of his burdens that his friends didn't know he had carried. The world was crumbling at his feet, and the only thing those around him could do was simply watch and try to catch him the moment he fell, but Wooyoung knew that there'd be no saving him now.
"Don't carry this burden alone." Yeosang mutters through the line, hearing the shaky unease Wooyoung's voice presents.
"I didn't ask for all of this," Wooyoung swallows, biting his tongue, holding the bridging tears at bay. "I love San, so much that it feels hard to comprehend, but this situation isn't at all what I envisioned for myself."
"I know, Woo. But you're here now, and instead of focusing on the past and what could've happened, try to remain here. You can alter the course of your future, but only by staying in the present, rather than lingering in the past."
"You're right," Wooyoung sighs, a slight smile curling on the edge of his lips. "I hate when you're right."
"You only hate it because when I'm right, I'm really right, huh?"
"You're never usually right in situations like this–"
"Why are you being such an ass when I'm just trying to be nice to you?" Yeosang laughs, earning a quiet hum of laughter from Wooyoung in return.
"Because I love you. Picking on you is fun, Sangie."
"You're irritating, but I love you too."
"I think I'm gonna take a shower and laze around until Sannie comes back, so I'll leave you to do whatever it is that you're doing." Wooyoung mumbles, his gaze casted down towards the blanket he had been gently picking at.
"Alright. But you call me the second, and I mean the second, you need something. Got it?"
"Yes, Sangie. I will." Wooyoung teases, rolling his eyes playfully, earning a groan from Yeosang.
"You're such a brat. Bye, Youngie!"
Setting down his phone, Wooyoung stares out into the empty apartment, soaking in the silence, letting the lack of ambiance settle into his pores. If this arrangement was actually over and San truly had to move out, Wooyoung wasn't completely sure where he'd go.
Surely he could look for another apartment and they could continue to see one another in private, but a life living in secret wasn't what he wanted. He felt as if he had just gotten a hold of San, finally able to love him openly in the way he was never able to, and now to have it all ripped away from his grasp left him feeling empty.
He had never wanted something more in his life, willing to give up his claim to the title, releasing his hold on the monumental amount of funds awaiting his bank account the moment he stepped in as acting CEO, giving everything up to Beomgyu with abandon. He would give up everything, if only it meant that he could leave this horrid life, joining San across the city, held up in his office with teasing remarks and intimate touches.
The money, the people, the sights and the title; it all meant nothing to Wooyoung. The only meaning any of this withheld was in regards to his brother, and now, sitting here and feeling as if he had nothing, Wooyoung settles further into the couch, tears bridging over, unrelenting. Lingering in this feeling, an incomparable sense of abandonment that felt incredibly isolating, left Wooyoung to think too far into his own gnawing thoughts, listening as each reverberated reminder of their inevitable separation loomed ahead. Everything had seemed so full of sunshine; cloudless, sunny days lingering above with an array of bliss to settle over them like a warm blanket. Yet, here they were, sitting together, unaware of the darkening clouds brewing overhead, trying to ignore the rain and thunder crawling closer with every passing minute.
Wooyoung would have heeded the warnings about falling in love with someone with standings like San, but what did it matter? His heart yearned for the person he apparently couldn't have, and finally having him only to have him ripped away again felt like the worst feeling of loss he had ever felt in his life. San was slipping through his fingers, unwillingly, but all he could do was try to fight against the current that was pulling San adrift, sinking him beneath the surface and into the darkening abyss.
Wooyoung didn't want to lose San. In fact, he'd rather lose himself, choosing to live a life in forever darkness than breathe in a world where he and San cannot simply just be. The mere thought of San being married off to someone else, loosing interest, catching feelings for someone else in the crossfire, sent a twirling bout of anxiety to grab him by the throat, breath hitching and lungs near-collapsing. He was struggling to breathe, tears sinking down his cheeks and curling around the rapt of his jaw, dropping onto his covered lap below. This cry wasn't one of pure sadness, but rather unbridled, longing pain.
The wish for a different life. The wish for a different arrangement. The wish for a reality where he knew he wouldn't have to leave San.
The sound of the door clicking closed stirs Wooyoung away from his mind, blinking back to life, hands immediately reaching up to wipe the tears from his eyes. He wasn't sure at how long he had been staring into space, let alone crying in the quiet of the apartment without hardly moving, but at the sound of approaching footsteps, he took in a breath, preparing the facade he had nearly mastered for times like this.
"Baby," San says softly, approaching the back of the couch, pressing his hands into the cushion. "Did you hear me? Are you alright?"
"Sorry, no–" Wooyoung smiles, turning to look up at San. "I was in my head. Did you say something?"
"Nothing important, just that I was back. What's on your mind?" San asks, reaching to brush a few strands of hair away from Wooyoung's eyes. The gesture, familiar and comforting, sends a rush of emotions to bubble up within the depth of Wooyoung's throat, teetering on the edge of simply breaking beneath the front he was presenting. He knew San had already felt guilty about all of this, and to add onto his burdens by crying about things that were far out of his control and inadvertently San's fault, Wooyoung would only be sure to feel worse.
"It's nothing, Sannie." Wooyoung says steadily, swallowing the will to lose his composure. "Are you hungry? Do you want lunch?"
"I'll eat if you will," San smiles gently, and Wooyoung nods, prepared for a different sense of distraction.
"I'll make us pasta and we can watch a drama." Wooyoung insists, tossing the blanket off of his lap to plant two feet on the floor, standing from the sofa to trek into the kitchen without another spared glance. San follows him, only partially, choosing to sit in one of the stools at the island, settling in with a sigh.
"Happy to be home?" Wooyoung asks, peeking over his shoulder as he reaches for a box of pasta within the cupboard.
"More than I can express." San mumbles, elbow rested on the marble, head perched within his open palm. "The conversation with my father was just. . . everything I had expected and yet hoped to not hear."
"So it was bad?" Wooyoung asks, maneuvering about the kitchen, filling a pot with water to prepare their pasta.
"Bad? No–" San takes in a breath, sifting through possible word choices. "Predictable, more like. I wanted to see what he had to say in regards to breaking off the arrangement, and it's everything that I expected. He truly hates your parents, Wooyoung, and hearing him be so dismissive of my feelings and yet understanding within the same score just has me confused."
"Understanding?" Wooyoung turns around, raising a brow. "You told him about. . . us?"
"I didn't have a choice." San shrugs, looking down at the counter as his hand falls away. "I wanted him to understand what he was doing to his only son, to try and reach across that emotional barrier and tug at whatever heart strings remained. But, he was cold as ice. He understood and wanted to protect my feelings, but he remained adamant that there was nothing he could do."
"At least he was understanding," Wooyoung says almost annoyingly, his jaw taut. "I wish they'd just accept us, Sannie. Beomgyu can have it, I don't care anymore. But my feelings don't matter in any of this. It's always Beomgyu this, Beomgyu that–"
"Hey," San says almost firmly, snapping Wooyoung's attention away from the pot he had just placed on the stovetop. "Take a breath, in and out. Relax, love."
Wooyoung looks at San, then nods, taking in a breath as instructed. "Sorry. Continue."
"You're alright, don't apologize," San says softly. "He wishes that he could do something, Woo. He claims that he can't. So. . . I took another trip; I visited someone else while I was out."
"Who now?" Wooyoung muses, raising a brow even though San couldn't see it. "Hyunjin?"
"Sun-hee."
Wooyoung turns around, pausing his every action, watching as San's expression softens in a fade of guilt. "But–? Why?"
"Listen," San starts, rubbing at his temples as he tries to gather his thoughts. "She started all of this, and as much as we both dislike her–"
"Hate, you mean." Wooyoung interjects, earning a slight smile in response from San.
"Fine, hate–" San rolls his eyes. "I thought that if she still cared about me in the way I think she does, that she'd be convinced enough to try and repair all of the crap she had broken. She could go to the media, take back the pictures, act out a statement, just something to fix what she had done, but she couldn't care less."
"What did she say?" Wooyoung says softly, standing rigidly at the stove, watching the pasta beneath the steam of the slowly boiling water, feeling the weight on his chest suddenly tighten.
"She had nothing nice to say, per usual," San expresses quietly, pausing hesitantly, letting the quiet of absent voices fill the space between them. "She had a request, though."
"Blackmail?" Wooyoung mumbles, half-expecting for San to agree, yet the words that sling themselves out of San's mouth next completely catch Wooyoung by surprise.
"She wants us to break up, and then she'll go to the media and take it all back."
Wooyoung tenses visibly, clutching the handle of the spoon he had been holding, the tears he was avoiding now curling over, the feelings of stress and loneliness presenting themselves in a stronger front.
Moments pass in hushed silence, only saved by the sound of boiling water and fire from the stovetop. Wooyoung places the spoon down, hands reaching to grip on to the countertop, wanting to tether himself to something. The world felt shaky, not yet collapsing inwards, but the words he hadn't wished to hear were all but spoken now. They were echoing within his mind, ever present, glued to the forefront of his thoughts in a relentless purr of terrorizing the mere foundation of his composure.
"Is that. . . is that something you want?" Wooyoung asks in a hush, his voice shaky, knuckles bleeding white as his grip tightens on the counter.
"Wooyoung–" San's voice cuts off, likely in a cast of sadness or shock; something that might've teetered the line between a myriad of composure and guilt. "Of course that isn't what I want."
"Then why do you sound like you're thinking about it?" Wooyoung avoids San's gaze, staring at the pot, chewing on his lower lip. "San, if you don't want me and you want your title or whatever, just tell me. I'm not going to stand in your way of making a future for yourself. If being–"
Wooyoung's voice breaks, a choked sob nearly flooding his tongue before he bites down on his lower lip, keeping the emotions at bay. "If being with me ruins your future, then I'll be the first one to tell you that I'm not worth it."
Quietly, San moves over, standing behind Wooyoung and gently taking his hands within his own, pulling his grip off of the counter. "Look at me, Wooyoung."
Hesitantly, Wooyoung turns around, blinking away the tears that had begun to rapidly fall.
"I'm not going anywhere. Sun-hee's attempt and feeble wish to pull me away from you isn't going to work. I love you. I know it's hard to see right now, and I know that things are really difficult, but I want you in my life until I merely cease to exist."
"Sannie–" Wooyoung shakes his head, hands moving to clutch onto the sides of San's shirt. "I don't want to be the reason you're holding yourself back. I want you to be happy, and I know that being with me compromises that."
"Being with you makes me happy." San reaffirms, hands moving to rest on the back of Wooyoung's neck. "I don't care about the title or about the company or about my father's wishes for me. I would rather pack up my life and leave everything behind, adjoined to your side for as long as you'll have me."
Wooyoung lets a sob ring through, fists tightening on the sides of San's shirt, leaning forward until his forehead presses against San's shoulder.
"This isn't going to break us, Wooyoung." San wraps his arms around Wooyoung, pulling him closer, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. "You're my everything. No one, especially Sun-hee, will ever take me from you."
"I wanted–" Wooyoung's voice falters, shaky and breaking with every syllable. "I wanted us to get married and to move away from this. I wanted to be yours and for you to be mine without the fear of being broken apart."
"I know, love." San murmurs, holding him closer as Wooyoung settles into the embrace. "But you have me. You have all of me, always. I'm always going to come home to you, Wooyoung."
"But how do we solve this?" Wooyoung leans away, tears falling down his cheeks. "How do we make it through this unscathed?"
"We need to seem broken up, outside of the apartment. Our parents can't know, the public can't know, Sun-hee can't know–" San sighs, glancing away. "As much as I don't want to do that, I think we have to."
"There's no other choice?" Wooyoung shakes his head, searching San's gaze.
"We've exhausted our options, Woo. We have to move out of this apartment and we have to seem truly split apart even if we're not. I can find us an apartment to move into near Eun Media, but you'll have to find one as a cover."
"This is. . . a lot, Sannie." Wooyoung murmurs, the tears slowly subsiding. "You would do all of this for me?"
"I'd move mountains if I could, Wooyoung." San leans closer, pressing a delicate kiss to Wooyoung's forehead. "I mean it when I tell you that I'm here to stay. I've never been one to give up so easily, and I will fight for us, but only if you want me to."
"I want you." Wooyoung says adamantly, shaking his head slightly. "I want you forever and a day."
"Then let's fight for our forever." San murmurs, hand reaching to press beneath Wooyoung's chin, raising his gaze softly. "Together, right?"
"Mm," Wooyoung smiles, just barely, but it had been enough to entice a smile onto San's lips, too. "Together is my favorite place to be."
"I love you." San says, voice smooth and warm, a welcomed mend to Wooyoung's saddened heart.
"I love you most." Wooyoung murmurs back, leaning up to press a reassuring kiss to San's lips. They linger for a moment, sinking into a deeper, more affectionate embrace before the sudden loudening of boiling water turns their attention away, watching as the water boils over and spills onto the open flame.
"Oh my God–!" Wooyoung gasps with a laugh, reaching for the handles of the pot, pulling it off of the burner in a rush. "I forgot about the pasta."
"We'll order in." San laughs, grabbing a rag from a drawer nearby. "We can get your favorite."
"It's not ruined though, Sannie–" Wooyoung murmurs, watching as San begins to carefully clean up the spilled water, turning off the stovetop.
"Doesn't matter. You can go relax, I'll deal with this. Take my phone, order whatever you want. Lunch is on me, okay?"
Wooyoung's expression melts into a softer, more loving gaze, carefully bandaging the open wounds strung across his heart. San takes the pot from Wooyoung's hands, setting it down in the sink carefully before turning back to Wooyoung, planting his phone in Wooyoung's waiting palm.
"I mean it," San says softly, pressing a kiss to Wooyoung's forehead. "Go relax, love. I'll be there in a minute."
"Thank you," Wooyoung says quietly, smiling at San with returning tears. San turns and simply smiles at him, waving him towards the sofa that Wooyoung willingly strides towards.
As he sunk into the comfort of the couch, he opened San's phone, seeing his home screen cast a photo he must've taken while Wooyoung had been asleep one morning. The bed was messy, the light warm with the glow of a quiet sunrise, leaving Wooyoung hugging a pillow, serene and at peace, a content smile woven onto his lips. Seeing this had been the affirmation Wooyoung had needed to accept San's will to remain so prevalent in one another's lives.
Wooyoung would do anything to remain at San's side, and as long as San would continue to have him, Wooyoung would stay right here. San was his person, and even if he had been terrified of the future and what it held, he would fight for the relationship he wanted instead of succumbing to his parent's wishes.