* * *

San doesn't come to school the next day, and even though Wooyoung shouldn't care as he's still recovering from San rejecting(?) him last night, he can't help but feel anxious the moment he realizes he can't find San anywhere.

Despite San being absent, the lewd drawings scribbled across his locker don't cease. It was something Wooyoung never noticed before, or maybe he did and pretended it didn't concern him, just like the others. The realization is a tough one to swallow, and next thing he knows he swivels around to face Mingi and Yunho, nearly bumping into them.

Yunho's eyebrows draw together, looking exactly like his father with his plaid shirt and grey jeans. "...Why are you looking at us like that?"

"We're in a free period right now," Wooyoung begins, "and I know you said you'd drive us to go visit that dog cafe you really like, but the supply room is always open and always filled with cleaning products, and -- "

"Wait," Mingi raises a hand, "what are you trying to say?"

Wooyoung glances at San's locker again, and that's all that's needed for his friends to get it.

"No way," Yunho speaks up, a frown tugging at his lips. "It's none of our business."

"But I hate seeing those gross things on San's locker," Wooyoung argues, hating how he's basically whining. But he can't help it. "It's disgusting seeing them treat San like that."

"Yeah, we can all see that," Yunho doesn't miss a beat. "But the dude dug his own grave, so you don't have to do his dirty work for him."

Wooyoung's a little caught off-guard by how sharp Yunho's tone is. "But -- "

This time, it's Mingi that speaks up. "We've been trying to be as supportive as we possibly can, but this has gotten way too far, Woo. I get you feel bad for him, but I can assure you he doesn't give a crap about how his locker looks. So you shouldn't either."

Wooyoung can't believe what he's hearing. "The drawings are fresh, guys. Which means either San or the janitor cleans it. And there have been drawings scrawled on the walls left for months without getting washed off."

Yunho sighs, frustration glaring from his eyes. Wooyoung bets he too doesn't look that much different. "Do you like San? Because last night your mom said he came over, and you never bring someone over without liking them first."

His words take Wooyoung aback, back to last night where San stood a ways away from his house, ethereal under the artificial lights. "I -- I don't. T-That isn't the point."

"Then it's settled," Mingi adds, siding with Yunho, as always. They're like two imposing statues peering down at him, as if he's a bad kid that keeps getting into trouble. "I get that he's pretty, but you're just setting yourself up for disappointment. He can handle this himself just fine."

Wooyoung doesn't know why his friends talk about San like they -- all of a sudden -- know him better than he does. He's seen enough of San to know this gets to him more than he lets on, and his conscience won't let him live until he does what's right.

"When you first told us about the outfits you liked to wear when no one was looking, you said you'd been afraid of us judging you for it, or looking at you different in case we didn't understand," Wooyoung tells Mingi. He then looks at Yunho, at his hard, unwavering stare. "When you both met me, you said it didn't matter how I dressed or behaved because I was fun to be around, and you liked spending time with me."

"This isn't the same thing," Mingi says, but Wooyoung doesn't allow him to get another word in.

"Why can't I feel the same about San, huh? Why can't I care about him even if we can't be more different from each other?" Wooyoung asks. His questions reverberate in his head, filling him with more conviction that yes, he actually likes San's company, and that will always be true regardless of however San feels about him.

"I like being with him, regardless of whatever he does outside of school," Wooyoung confesses. "And since I'm his friend, I'll try to make his life a little easier even if he 'doesn't give a crap', like you guys are saying."

Mingi exhales deeply, while Yunho throws his hands up in exasperation.

"Do what you want," Yunho grumbles, walking away.

"I'll go talk to him," Mingi tells Wooyoung, and soon enough, he's gone too.

Wooyoung enters the supply closet and grabs the needed materials, gulping down his nerves and telling himself over and over that this is just a little, tiny bump in their friendship. That things will be sorted out before long.

But his hands tremble as he douses a sponge in soapy water and begins wiping down the first marking he sees on San's grey locker. He scrubs and scrubs until the crude drawing is nothing more than dirty water and bubbles, and then he's moving on to the next dick doodle. How original.

Footsteps scuff about in the distance, and a chill descends Wooyoung's spine at the whistle he hears.

"What do we have here? San tell you to clean his locker for him in return for a good suck?" It's unmistakably Jaehyuk's voice, roaring laughter surrounding his stupid joke in seconds.

Wooyoung wishes the fucker would leave him alone for once and stop tormenting him, for Christ's sake. But he doesn't say it though (because it would be a death sentence on his part). He just continues to clean the locker, putting all his strength into it so all these shitty, degrading images and words targeted at San would disappear.

"You know more'll be there later, right?" Jaehyuk says, as if it isn't already obvious. "Your boyfriend can try to hide and run away all he damn wants, but he'll always be known as a disgusting fucking slu -- "

Wooyoung flings the bucket in his hand at Jaehyuk's hideous face, the darkened, soapy water splashing him head-on. He yelps in alarm, and Wooyoung immediately starts to sprint down the halls, his heart in his fucking throat.

He nearly knocks into Mingi who has a rag in hand, the taller's eyes big as Wooyoung screams at him to start running.

Wooyoung would find this fun if he isn't scared Jaehyuk and his slaves will murder him later, and try all he wants, he'll have to go back to school once the free period's over.

He just hopes he makes it out alive.

* * *

Wooyoung doesn't see Jaehyuk for the remainder of the day, but that doesn't matter when the teacher for his last class hands him a pink weekend detention slip for 'instigating violence against another student at 10:12 AM'.

"I think Wooyoung's officially losing it," Mingi comments just as said male crushes the bright paper with a big ass smile on his face.

"I'm perfectly fine," Wooyoung defends himself as he shoves his books into his bag. But he's low-key freaking out, mostly because today's his first time getting a detention on his school record.

Yunho looks worried. "You got in trouble because you just had to clean San's locker -- "

Wooyoung shakes his head; he can't bear hearing Yunho berating him again for just trying to be a good friend. "I'm going home. Don't message me for tonight."

"Woo..." Mingi makes a move to touch his shoulder, but Wooyoung flinches and walks off, feeling like utter shit.

He enters the bus just as the skies dim and the grey clouds spark with dazzling crimson as if they've been lit by a match. He pulls out his phone and looks through his and San's messages to see if anything has changed.

It has. San's read the texts he sent earlier yesterday.

Wooyoung jams in his earphones and plays music, contemplating what next he should send.

- wooyoung
good day, san
u werent at school today

- wooyoung
hope everythings going well

He cringes at the texts, and cringes even more at how he'd reacted towards San last night just 'cause the guy decided to be honest with him. Shit, maybe San's avoiding me because of that.

- wooyoung
and im sorry

- wooyoung
for lowkey screaming in ur face the other day

- wooyoung
u didn't deserve that

Wooyoung almost can't believe his luck when San responds a nanosecond later.

It's a picture -- a painting, even, of a clearly nude woman with luscious, long hair just chilling on a fair horse. No big deal.

Wooyoung hisses when his head smacks against the bus's window, but he barely registers the dull pain as he looks around the vehicle with wide eyes, hoping no one else was watching his phone.

Just then, San sends something else. Words, this time around.

- san from class
lady godiva, by john maler collier

- san from class
nudity doesnt have to be sexual
its art in this form.

- san from class
try to look at yourself as if you're on a canvas. now you're art

- san from class
now you're beauty itself

Wooyoung's whole face heats up.

- wooyoung
um, alright san
i know ur still trying to get me more used to nudity and all

- wooyoung
but please, can we talk??

San doesn't reply, but Wooyoung doesn't fault him.

His mom isn't home when he arrives, and the darkness of the house is suffocating with no one to talk to now. He drops his school bag on the floor, and in a desperate bid to not feel alone, heads for the bathroom.

There's a mirror right in front of him the second Wooyoung saunters in. He instinctively avoids it, but then remembers when San was there. He tries to imagine that he's here with him right now too.

Try to look at yourself as if you're on a canvas. Now you're art.

Wooyoung doesn't have to switch on the lights to see the face staring back at him in the dark. He sees black hair, curled around a neck and parted in the middle. And then, these deep set of eyes framed by rounded glasses, always so unassuming, always so unsure. Then lips that slightly pout, fuller below than on top. They're a faint rosy shade in the dim room.

Sometimes he looks at himself and doesn't really know what he's looking at. At times, all he actually sees is a blank slate where his face and body should be -- and that's just when he isn't feeling particularly self-conscious or disgusted by his appearance.

Wooyoung chews his lower lip, keeping his gaze trained on his reflection. Now you're art, he can almost hear San whisper into his ears, that familiarly low drawl that sends his heart thumping like crazy. Now you're beauty itself.

He wonders how he must look like to a passing stranger, someone who knows nothing of how much he dislikes his features. He wonders how he must look to San, or if the taller even finds him visually appealing. But, then he thinks back on San's words last night and deflates, because if San actually found him attractive in the slightest, then maybe he'd feel something for him.

Wooyoung's phone buzzes in his pocket. He takes it out once more, his pulse erratic when he sees San's contact name on the screen.

It's another painting, the woman partially uncovered as she stares longingly at a man looking at his reflection in pond.

- san from class
narcissus and echo, john william waterhouse

- san from class
one of my favourites

- wooyoung
san
can you please talk to me

- san from class
sometimes one can get so caught up in their appearances they fail to realize the bigger picture

- san from class
that they're worth being admired, too

Wooyoung doesn't like how the man in the painting sort of looks like him.

- wooyoung
are u trying to say im a narcissist??

This seems to get a reaction out of San as he'd intended, because the taller types and retypes his response more than once.

Then suddenly he's calling him, Wooyoung's life flashing before his eyes when his phone narrowly misses falling into the toilet.

"U-Um," he clears his throat the moment he picks up, wanting to punch the wall again for being such a dumbass. "Hi, San."

Stop being so fucking awkward. San only sees you as a friend, nothing more. But Wooyoung's never been one to listen to logic.

"Wooyoung," San states. He sounds freaking exhausted, voice deeper than usual. Static-like noise echoes in the background, and Wooyoung wonders if he's with anyone tonight.

"Are you in a club?" Wooyoung has to know, because if San's going to be in the arms of another stranger tonight, he wants to prepare himself and stop getting his hopes up.

"What?" San almost sounds offended. "No, I'm not."

"You weren't at school today. Did something happen?"

"Nothing you should be worried about," San's reply is swift. It sounds like he's moving, voices hushed behind him.

Wooyoung can't help but be curious. "Where are you?"

San pauses, then sighs heavily. "It's nothing, don't worry."

"Please stop saying that," Wooyoung argues, back pressed against the wall. He doesn't want to anger San, but the way the taller sounds so close to breaking down terrifies him. "You're my friend and you can't stop me from caring about you, San. You told me to trust you last night -- and I did -- so I want you to trust me too."

"I'm sorry, Wooyoung."

"For what?"

"I know I hurt you last night with my words, but it was never my intention," San answers, his voice scarily distraught.

"I'm not mad at you, San."

"I -- I know, but..." San sounds like he's sniffling. "You're too kind to me. And -- and it's like you always seem to know when something's wrong. Y-You're always there to cheer me up."

Wooyoung's heart cracks at San's obvious attempt to hide that he's crying. "San, hey..."

"I-I can't keep fucking doing this anymore," San laments over the phone, his muffled sobs painful to hear. "I'm so fucking sick of this, Wooyoung. Sick of -- of feeling so alone."

Wooyoung panics as he rushes out the bathroom door, the taller's words crushing him with dread. "San, please -- please listen to me, alright? You're not alone. You have me."

But San doesn't sound like he's listening. "I -- I can't -- "

"San," Wooyoung pleads with him, "where are you right now? Can you please tell me?"

San exhales a shaky breath, and whimpers. He sounds so small like this, totally different from the San Wooyoung spent time with just yesterday.

"D-Don't come, Wooyoung," San says with a sniff. "Don't trouble yourself over me."

"Just tell me where you are, okay?" Wooyoung repeats, preparing to leave the house again. "Let's hang out. I'll keep you company."

San stays quiet for a minute, his soft cries the only thing heard, but Wooyoung waits for him, patient.

"Seoul university hospital," he eventually reveals,  "I'll um, wait for you outside."

Wooyoung's anxiety spikes at the chance that something's wrong with San medically, but forces it down. "Alright. I'll be there."

"Thank you," San whispers, his sincerity warming Wooyoung's insides.

He hangs up, but then sees someone new calling him. It's Yunho.

Wooyoung hesitates at first, but picks up in the end. "Yeah?"

"Are you home right now?" Yunho sounds a bit nervous, and Wooyoung wonders if he's planning on apologizing.

"I'm actually on my way out."

"To go where?"

Wooyoung contemplates just glossing over the topic, but realizes just how Yunho can be of help.

"Seoul university hospital. If you're free, can you drive me there?"

* * *

a/n: this fic is a rollercoaster. thoughts?