This is not you, Wooyoung. You know it's not. His breath hit my cheeks as he leaned closer. One part of me wanted to run, the other to hug him and never let go. Seeing him like that broke my heart. He wished so bad for something to be true he ended up losing himself to it.

"I would never leave you, Woo, but you need to rest-"

"Sleep with me, here, please," he almost sobbed. What has she done to your precious soul, I thought over in my head as I couldn't decide. I knew he'd try things. He has before, but there was always someone to get him off. Now I was alone. Against him and his strong self-repair desire. He intertwined our hands. I felt hopeless.

"I can't."

"Why not? Is someone waiting for you?" The anger was coming back to him. He held my hands tighter.

"No. I'm just scared."

"Scared of what?"

"Scared of you," I whispered and his whole body set. "I came here to check up on you. And look at me. If I said yes, you'd try to take advantage of me to repatch yourself. That's not the Wooyoung I know. My best friend would never do that. You're hurting me now, Wooyoung!"

His stare was like a broken mirror - sharp, cold and unreadable. I could tell he was reasoning with himself, the way his forearms tensed and loosened repeatedly and chest rose in short and shallow breaths. How unbelievable and frightening this view looked - his inner-sober self against the huge amount of alcohol.

"You're crying." Regret and fear passed by his eyes before they softened, and in a split second, the grip on my fingers disappeared. His figure looked like a ghost against the dark walls, and a slight shiver ran down my spine. This was all getting out of hand. "Leave. Please leave before I hurt you even more."

"But you can't stay here alone-"

"I SAID, LEAVE!"

I flinched as if it was an instinct and covered my face, almost tripping over one of his drawers. The line's crossed. Silence fell over. My mind went blank. Every part of my body felt numb, and my cheeks burned from the salt sticking onto them. We reached the breaking point. Without a second thought, I turned, grabbed everything that reached my hands and pushed myself out of the room. Nothing could stop me now.

Once again, broken glass crunched under my feet, but I couldn't care less. I slammed the door hard and marched to my car. Was I even able to drive home? Anger fought with disappointment and fear, and the only way of processing that was crying. My fingers automatically found my phone and dialled another number; one ring, two rings. Please, pick up.

"What is it? I have to wake up early."

"San? San, it's Wooyoung," I sobbed into the phone, clutching it hard as if it could fall any moment. "I need you to pick me up, please."

"What? What did he do? Where are you?"

"In front of his place. In my car. I'll tell you, just come pick me up."

"Okay, stay there. Coming in five minutes."

"And San?"

"Hm?"

"Take Yunho with you. Just in case."