Everything was boring on a random Sunday, Yeosang lay sprawled on his bed with a bored expression, waiting for Wooyoung to come back from work. Initially, he was gonna cook dinner but excitement took over and Yeosang didn't do anything. At all. He didn't even get up when the front door opened and Wooyoung stepped inside, his cheerful demeanor lighting up the gloomy atmosphere of the apartment.

"Yeosang! I'm back!" Wooyoung called out, shaking off his damp jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. There was a hint of excitement in his voice, the same one he always used when he had something to share.

Yeosang barely turned his head, peeking at Wooyoung with half-opened eyes. “Hey,” he mumbled, his voice groggy and unenthusiastic.

“What’s with that attitude?” Wooyoung chuckled as he made his way to the kitchen. “Did you actually wait for me to cook dinner?”

Yeosang shrugged, feeling slightly guilty. “I was going to…but then I just got bored.”

“Well, that’s not very inspiring,” Wooyoung said, pulling out ingredients from the fridge. “I had some fun at work today, you know.”

Yeosang slowly propped himself up on his elbows, intrigued despite his reluctance to show it. “Oh? What happened?”

Wooyoung smiled, clearly enjoying the moment. “We had a surprise birthday party for one of our colleagues. I got to decorate the break room and even made a cake!” He started rummaging through the cupboard, looking for a frying pan. “It was chaotic but so much fun. I wish you could’ve seen it.”

Yeosang couldn’t help but smile back, charmed by Wooyoung’s infectious energy. The thought of all the laughter and joy Wooyoung had experienced made him a little envious. “So, you’re telling me I missed out on cake?”

“Yeah, but we can make cake, too!” Wooyoung declared, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he turned to face Yeosang. “Or we can order take out and eat cake, better than mine,"

Yeosang rolled on his side, looking at Wooyoung with that look again, as if it's love or wanting to be Wooyoung, maybe both. He sat up then, sighing in exhaustion and joined Wooyoung at cooking dinner.

Wooyoung looked at the patch on Yeosang's wrist from the corner of his eye, not saying anything but knew that his bestfriend hurt himself again.

"I got new bandages, you can use them," Wooyoung said without looking at Yeosang as he began to chop vegetables. The air between them shifted, the warmth of companionship suddenly tinged with concern. Yeosang felt a pang of embarrassment, grateful for Wooyoung’s subtle observation but also wary of the conversation that might follow.

“Thanks,” Yeosang said quietly, avoiding Wooyoung's gaze for the moment. He could feel the weight of the unspoken words wanting to escape, the kind of conversations that Wooyoung always wanted to dive deep into.

They worked together in comfortable silence for a while, the kitchen filled with the sweet aroma of sizzling vegetables and the rhythmic sounds of chopping and stirring. The tension in the air began to dissipate as Yeosang found solace in the mundane act of cooking, his mind wandering between the present and scattered worries.

“What kind of cake did you make?” He asked, trying to steer the conversation back to lighter topics.

Wooyoung’s face brightened at the mention of cake. “It was a chocolate mousse cake! Super fluffy and rich. I even had to bake it twice because the first time, the oven was too hot and it burned a bit.” He chuckled, shaking his head as if reliving the chaos. “But it turned out alright in the end, everyone loved it!”

Yeosang chuckled softly, picturing Wooyoung in his element, the joyous chaos of a surprise party lighting up his day. “I bet they did. You always have a way of making everything fun.”

Wooyoung shot him a grateful smile. “That’s because I have you to share it with when I get home.” His tone was light, but Yeosang could hear the subtext, the obligation of friendship that often left unsaid.

As they moved on to prepare the main dish, Yeosang noticed Wooyoung glancing at him from time to time. It was a look that lingered just a moment too long, like he was searching for something. Yeosang felt himself flushing slightly under Wooyoung's gaze.

“Are you feeling okay?” Wooyoung finally asked, his voice dropping a notch, sincerity breaking through the cheerful facade. “You’ve been kind of… distant.”

Just as Yeosang opened his mouth to respond, there was a crash from the living room—technically the consequence of too many items piled precariously on the edge of the coffee table. It pulled their attention away from the bubbling pot and shifted the mood.

Wooyoung’s eyes widened in a mix of surprise and amusement. “What was that?” He laughed, abandoning the vegetables mid-chop to dart out of the kitchen.

Yeosang sighed in relief, thankful for the distraction. He followed Wooyoung into the living room, where a couple of books had fallen to the floor. “Just my stack of unread novels,” he remarked, bending down to pick them up.

“That’s dangerous,” Wooyoung quipped, picking up a small, framed photo that had also tumbled down. “You should really organize your stuff.” He turned the photo towards him, revealing a moment captured from earlier that year—a sunny day at the beach, both of them grinning widely as they splashed water at each other.

“Look at us,” Wooyoung chuckled, beaming as nostalgia tinged his voice. “We should go back there sometime.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Yeosang replied, the unease between them perhaps lingering like the memory of salty sea air. He stood back up, the photo still in Wooyoung’s hands. “In a less chaotic time, maybe.”

The moment stretched between them, both of them remembering; yet again, Yeosang sensed the opportunity slipping away—the moment where he could unpack his feelings, reveal what weighed on him. But looking at Wooyoung’s bright eyes, filled with carefree innocence, he felt hesitant.

“Dinner,” Yeosang said suddenly, breaking the spell that had woven itself around them. “Let’s finish cooking before the food burns.”

“Right! Cake and takeout!” Wooyoung exclaimed, reeling back to his cheerful demeanor. “You read my mind.”

As they returned to the kitchen, Yeosang felt the lingering thoughts fade momentarily, replaced by the camaraderie of a cooking session with Wooyoung. And for the rest of the evening, lost amidst laughter, the chaos of utensils, and the sweet aroma of food, Yeosang thought maybe, just maybe, there would be time for everything else later.

Later, maybe. Lingering glances kept coming Yeosang's way and it bothered him, a lot. Not because Wooyoung annoyed him but more of his own annoyance to himself about to burst outside.

He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks with each furtive look Wooyoung sent in his direction. It wasn’t anything new; the lingering glances, the soft smiles. But today, they felt particularly charged, like a silent conversation filled with unspoken words. Yeosang tried to focus on the task at hand—chopping vegetables more vigorously than necessary, each slice an attempt to cut away the swirling emotions inside him.

“Yeosang! You’re lost in your own world again!” Wooyoung’s playful voice interrupted his thoughts, and Yeosang blinked, startled.

“Sorry,” he muttered, setting down the knife with a clatter. “Just, uh, thinking.”

“About what?” Wooyoung’s brow furrowed slightly, the concern coating his playful tone. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I—” Yeosang started, but the words tangled in his throat. He could feel the instinct to retreat from vulnerability creeping up on him. Instead, he busied himself with grabbing a bowl, feeling Wooyoung's gaze settle on his back, heavy and questioning.

“Yeosang,” Wooyoung pressed gently, “If something’s bothering you, you know you can talk to me, right?”

That voice, the one filled with genuine care, made Yeosang’s heart race. He swallowed hard, torn between the desire for connection and an instinct to keep his walls up. Wooyoung had always been his anchor, the one person who could pull him back from the edge of despair—but the thought of revealing the depths of his struggle left Yeosang feeling exposed.

“Yeah, I know,” he finally admitted, turning to face Wooyoung, met with those warm, earnest eyes. “I just… I don’t want to ruin the mood. You’re so happy, and I don’t want to bring you down.”

Wooyoung’s expression softened, his gaze unwavering. “You could never ruin the mood for me, Sang. Not just because you’re feeling off, but because you’re my best friend. I want to share everything with you—good and bad.”

The air thickened between them as Yeosang pondered Wooyoung’s words. The truth was he craved that kind of openness, yet the vulnerability of sharing his struggles felt daunting. “I just don’t know how to say it.”

“Then just say it.” Wooyoung took a step closer, his presence grounding and warm. “I’m right here. You don’t have to hide anything from me.”

This was the moment—the one Yeosang had been avoiding, the one where he could choose to lower his defenses. But the weight of his emotions felt like a boulder in his chest. “I… I don’t want to be a burden,” he finally confessed, the admission barely escaping his lips.

“Burden?” Wooyoung shook his head vehemently. “You could never be a burden. You’re everything to me. We’ve always supported each other, remember? You bear your struggles alone far too often, but you never have to. I’ll share the load with you, whatever it is.”

Yeosang felt something crack within him, a fissure that started to allow the light in. Wooyoung’s sincerity pierced through his defenses, making it all feel suddenly possible to share. “I… I keep hurting myself, Wooyoung. It’s like I’m in this cycle of feeling low and then doing things that just make it worse. And I don’t know how to stop it.”

Wooyoung’s expression shifted to one of deep compassion. “I’m here. You’re not alone in this. We can figure it out together.”

A tear slipped past Yeosang’s guard, and he quickly wiped it away, feeling vulnerable yet comforted by Wooyoung’s unwavering support. “I’m scared, you know? It feels like I’m stuck in a fog, and I don’t know how to get out.”

“Then we’ll clear the fog together,” Wooyoung said, determination evident in his tone. “Let’s take it one step at a time. We can talk to someone if you want—there’s no shame in asking for help. But first, let’s just get through dinner, okay?”

Yeosang nodded, his heart stabilizing at the thought of having someone by his side. “Okay.”

They resumed cooking, the atmosphere noticeably lighter as they exchanged banter and laughter. Though the fog of Yeosang’s feelings still lingered, the weight felt manageable with Wooyoung there, ready to hold his hand through the uncertainties.

And as they set the table later, Yeosang felt a flicker of hope—a reminder that maybe the chains of darkness weren’t as unbreakable as he’d thought. With each lingering glance from Wooyoung, he found strength to embrace what was unspoken, taking comfort in the knowledge that he wouldn’t walk this path alone.