i once believed love would be
burning red
but it's golden

wooyoung san

26.09.17

it's his own damn fault, really. for driving as recklessly as he was, like he's invincible.

rather fitting, for him to be going 80mph on a 60mph road, breathing too heavy or not at all, not really all there. the first rule of being on the verge of a panic attack is don't drive, but san does love to break the rules, always has.

all he hears is the beating of his own heart, the loud revving of his engine, until it all comes to a screeching halt. san veers too sharply, avoiding another car, and bam. one moment the road is there, wide open and safe, the next there are loud noises, acrid smells and pain.

thankfully, san's still conscious, a cough racking his chest. he tastes blood in his mouth, metallic, but doesn't seem to be bleeding anywhere. that's good. the car is still upright, and thank god he has insurance, because that burning smell can't be good.

oh. he's aware of his vision slipping in and out, blackness seeping up the edges. so much for being conscious.

•••

there's a machine beeping.

sheets under his sore body, unfamiliar.

ow. san's head is throbbing like a bitch, pounding so loud he can barely focus on anything.

he shuts his eyes, letting sleep take him again.

•••

the next time san wakes up, it hurts marginally less. he allows himself to fully open his eyes, filled with disdain at the bright lights.

honestly, ending up in the hospital is presenting itself as a minor inconvenience to san's discovery. his eyes wonder down to the tightly wound band around his forearm, covering whoever's name is imprinted there.

he's half aware of voices outside the door, but his arm is all he can focus on. the idea nagging at him.

barely registers the nurse, telling him he's fine, it's just a concussion, nothing serious, he'll be fine. his vision is honed on his arm, the rest of it white noise.

in one rapid motion, san makes a choice, rips that safety net, that band, from his arm. reveals a thick strip of milky skin, engraved, emblazoned.

can't suppress the choked sob that catches in his throat.

26.11.1999- that number is unfamiliar, baring little recognition. but that name. jung wooyoung. he knows that name well, knows it like the back of his own hand.

suddenly it all makes sense. like the fast tempo of a song slowing down so you can make out every note and syllable. like coming up for air after being underwater for a period of time. his heartbeat slows down, and his head levels. and everything directs itself; like a compass to its true north, to one clear thing.

but all san can do is cry, cover his mouth with his hands, try to keep it in. shake.

"it's not fine-" he chokes out, biting his fingers, mouth filling with salt from his tears, breathing becoming more and more uncontrolled.

the nurse frowns, blanching to help him but seeming unsure. san curls into himself, knees tight to his chest.

"it is fine-" she tries, checking the blipping machine to convince herself. "you're alright, sir. try to breathe."

"it's my fault!" san's practically as hysterical as hongjoong, cradling his own left arm, stroking and clawing at wooyoung's name.

at wooyoung's name. his soulmate.

"do you want me to get your guardian, sir? though you are eighteen, he can still be called-"

he shakes his head rapidly, wanting nothing less. san can't remember if junhee is still listed as his guardian, and isn't willing to risk it.

"well, you can't drive, sir... there must be someone to call?" she presses, and san's face crumples.

tensing all his muscles, trying to stop shaking, san thanks god his phone is still in his pocket, albeit with a cracked screen. he can't bring himself to care.

"kibum," he heaves, handing the phone to the woman. "call kibum."

she nods, leaving the room, leaving san to his own hysterics. god, he should have known.

cursing the universe's cruel sense of humour, san manages a deep breath, regaining himself. it's fantastically ironic, that the boy he fell in love with despite it all, the boy who seemed to not be his soulmate but who san wanted anyway is the one who turns out to be his soulmate. the one. who he never ever wants to hurt, who he would do anything for- that person turns out to be the one san's hurting the most.

he can't help but laugh helplessly, manically, half tear at his hair. fuck, san doesn't deserve this.

jumbled turmoil in his mind, san falls back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. this is why he's blind. the realization is not as jarring as san imagined, not as much as the guilt is.

would wooyoung even believe him, if san told him? will he hate him, for what he's unintentionally done? will he still love him, as the universe wills? after every twist of fate, every ideology that's been skewered, can san really go back to square one?

yes. the answer comes easily, because san would do anything for wooyoung, if he lets him.

it's all too soon, when he hears voices on the other side of the door, multiple. because san's an idiot who never thinks, he forgot that wooyoung's at his apartment, and of course kibum brought him.

"he won't listen. he thinks it's all his doing." he hears the woman's voice state apologetically, muffled through the door. "maybe with a little time-"

"let me try." wooyoung, wooyoung speaks up, voice ringing clearer.

san both wants him there and doesn't, grappling with his own internal battle. now that he knows, that magnetic surge of his heart makes more sense, the way the pumping organ practically lurches from his chest in search of wooyoung. san just thought that was love, longing, not... a connection of soulmates.

but here he is, the other half of his soul, and san doesn't even resent him for it.

his lips form the shape of his name, apologetic, desperate, a hoarse plea.

as if he's heard him, wooyoung's rushing in, eyes wide and so painfully blue. he's still in san's clothes, still disheveled, but he's here.

"i'm fine-" he says immediately, sitting up, reaching for him, rushing to reassure him.

"you were in a car crash-" wooyoung argues, reaching back, taking his hands, climbing onto the bed. "i thought, i thought-"

"i know, i know." san quiets him, not even blinking. now that wooyoung's here, he doesn't quite know how to tell him. the words are stuck in his throat, senses enveloped by wooyoung's presence.

"you shouldn't have left!" wooyoung lets himself be angry, shoving san lightly but not letting go of him all the while. "why'd you go? where'd you go?"

okay. san takes a deep breath, surveying wooyoung with quick flitting eyes. lets them fall to his bruised knuckles.

"would you... would you be mad if i said i had a chat with hongjoong?" he tries for a smile, registering the way wooyoung's face falls, twists.

"chat?"

"okay!" he admits, shutting his eyes. "i may have punched him. but not unprovoked!"

wooyoung releases a long sigh, relaxing his hold. he slumps forward, resting their foreheads together. "suppose he deserved it." he breathes out, defeated.

he did. and so much more.

after a few minutes, san swallows thickly, gently guiding wooyoung's hand down his arm. waits for it to settle, flatten on the bare skin of his forearm.

wooyoung's lips part in surprise, a shaky breath sounding, hitting san's lips. the soft gasp spurs him to
re-shut his eyes, tightly, holding his breath.

"you- you took it off?" he manages, so softly, barely there.

san's heart seizes, being inflamed as wooyoung's fingers caress the skin where the name is inscribed, electricity jolting throughout him. the touch makes san inhale sharply, stomach fluttering.

it's incredibly sensitive, and even more so when touched by one's soulmate. there's a theory that is where you were once physically tethered to your soulmate, and the touch reignites memories of a thousand past lives.

"i did." he hums, holding his breath. "because i had to know."

"why did you have to know?" wooyoung ventures, pressing his lips together. "what- what made you want to know, suddenly?"

san prefaces his response by saying "i don't expect anything of you," pressing his forehead more firmly against wooyoung's. "but i found out that hongjoong lied. when we chatted, when i punched him- i saw the name on his arm. i don't even remember it, but it wasn't yours. it wasn't yours."

wooyoung's crying now, dropping his head down to san's chest, shaking silently. "he- he lied? and- and it's you?"

"it's me." san confirms, kissing the top of his head. "i'm so sorry, love, i'm so sorry."

the hand on his arm tightens, gripping him painfully. "i'm sorry i didn't check sooner. sorry i didn't give us more time, saved you some with him-" san's rambling, blubbering like a fucking baby, the tears rolling back down.

"it's okay, it's okay," wooyoung shakes his head, drawing his arms around san's waist, bringing him in so tightly it's like he's trying to merge them. "this is good, san. this is a good thing."

he laughs then, the sound vibrating against him. "proved you damn wrong, though. turns out you're complying with the universe."

san laughs, too, defeated. it is ironic. "i loved you before i knew, though. when i thought it couldn't be you, i still loved you. i love you now, knowing."

one of wooyoung's arms snakes up his back, his fingers reading the braille tattoo between san's shoulder blades. to love is to destroy.

"i guess we destroyed each other." wooyoung murmurs, sniffing.

"i guess we did." he agrees, allowing a smile to break through the tears.

san isn't used to sappy shit, but there goes wooyoung again, claiming all his firsts.

-

this feels so conclusive but it's not actually the end yet

san getting into a car crash is just too hilariously wattpady for me not to include- someone's comment actually gave me the idea and i thought lmao why not

xxx