The next day, Jung Wooyoung ignored San. Or more like, he just didn't spare a single glance his way. On one side, it made San incredibly relieved that one of Yunho's friends had finally left him alone. But the other side...kind of didn't expect things to go that route.

What? You thought you'd suddenly become friends? The bitter and snarky voice inside San's head laughed, and no matter how hard San tried to get rid of it, it just wouldn't get out. That voice alone made him realize how much of a fool he was for thinking that Wooyoung would want to continue talking to him, even when their conversation yesterday was all sorts of awkward. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"It's good that this is happening," San whispered to himself after the first half of the school day passed without any interaction from Wooyoung. "If he becomes my friend, then it'll hurt a lot more if I lose him..."

And then, Wednesday passed, then Thursday, then Friday, and then the whole weekend. Wooyoung never texted San as well, and by that time, the latter had been slowly beginning to cut the boy loose from his life. The time we'd spent together was only a one-time thing.

San couldn't think about some boy when he already had enough on his plate. He never knew when another death could strike, and he didn't want to get so distracted that he blacked out in a public place or something. He couldn't afford to forget about what he was, even when he so badly wanted to at times.

* * *

Seonghwa slid a bowl of cereal in front of San early that Monday morning.

He gestured towards the phone that (somehow), San had completely forgotten he was holding. "Waiting for a text, or call, from someone?"

San placed the phone face-down on the table. "...I can't have friends. You know that."

Seonghwa bit his lip in thought, before taking the seat across from San. His eyes looked hopeful. "...Well, at least one wouldn't hurt."

"You're already my friend," San replied, digging the spoon into his cereal. He was glad Seonghwa didn't put a lot this time, because he wasn't in the mood to eat much, anyways.

"I know I am, but I'm also your cousin," Seonghwa said, his tone soft. "It would be nice if you could get a friend that wasn't related to you."

San exhaled, before whispering: "I wouldn't be able to bear it." He forced himself to take a few bites of the cereal. "Wouldn't be able to bear it if someone close to me died because of me."

"I know," Seonghwa answered. "And...I also know the risk of being here with you, but I hardly care about that because you're my family. You mean a lot to me, and I'm sure whoever befriends you would feel the same."

But San knew the cold, hard truth. They wouldn't.

* * *

San pulled the hoodie he wore on top his school uniform over his head the minute he'd entered the school premises.

At that closed-off area by the woods, San could spot Yunho as well as his friends, smoking and joking about whatever. He watched as Yunho playfully slapped a guy across his neck, the latter's hands raised in surrender while the rest erupted into guffaws. If you weren't aware of Yunho (which was impossible), you'd think his frequent closeness with guys meant that he'd maybe swung that way, but that wasn't the case. He only did those things as a way of subduing those he considered below him.

San slowly slid to a stop upon seeing Wooyoung amongst those friends. But, he wasn't standing up or joking around, he was sat at one of the small steps, a cigarette in hand as he stared off into nothing.

Stop watching him, San told himself. God, why are you even watching him, you doofus?

San pushed himself further into the school before Wooyoung could catch his stare.

* * *

Classes passed. Wooyoung was in some of them, and in others, he wasn't. He didn't seem to give a shit about his attendance. During math, he sat at his usual seat at the back too -- not the one beside San that he'd stolen from a student.

San felt like an idiot for wondering what he'd done wrong. At the point during math class, he'd turned and found himself meeting Wooyoung's gaze from the back. His chest felt it'd just been splintered when Wooyoung just looked away.

It was painfully obvious now that Wooyoung was avoiding him. But, that shouldn't have mattered now, should it? It's not like they'd been friends at all in the first place.

At lunch, San opted for finding a seat outside the class, in case Yunho felt like bothering him again or something, even when the guy didn't even look his way anymore. But then again, San was insanely paranoid, especially when several things were going wrong all at once.

He entered the bathroom first, checking the bathroom mirror to see if his body was bleeding from anywhere -- which it wasn't, thank god. Then, he headed down the halls, uncaring about the classes he passed until --

"Hey, Choi!"

The voice was loud, and San was incredibly thankful that no one was around. He turned, his heartbeat racing to embarrassing, unspeakable lengths once he spotted Wooyoung in what appeared to be the art room.

San guessed Wooyoung could see his reluctance, so the guy decided to beckon him over.

"You can come in. I'm not harmful," he said, looking like he'd found the whole thing hilarious. And San, like before, obeyed.

"You can seat here." Wooyoung patted the spot next to him on the table he sat at, a couple feet away from all the canvases that camped around at one corner. "Come on, I don't bite."

San slowly sat down, finding it insanely difficult to look at anything else other than his thin hands with Jung Wooyoung so close to him like that.

"Sooo...how's my servant doing?" Wooyoung asked, causing San to look up at him, blinking.

"What?"

Wooyoung just stared at him for a second, before laughing out loud. "Fuck, I don't even know how I thought I could ignore you for so long. That shit practically hurt to do." He purposefully rubbed his shoulder against San. "You hate touches, but I hope you don't mind shoulder rubs."

San's tongue felt too heavy to even mutter a single coherent word. His body was warm, and it fucking made him want to explode. "Uh..."

He stared at Wooyoung as the other excitedly pointed to one canvas, noting his twinkling eyes, the mole under the left one, and...what appeared to be a faint purplish mark at the edge of his jaw.

"...see that painting? What do you think about it?"

San blinked and quickly looked away from Wooyoung, instead focusing his gaze on the painting as the latter had instructed him to do.

The painting itself was kind of a simple one at first, but, as San watched it more and more, he realized the amount of thought the painter must've put into it for it to come out so cohesive. The painting depicted a sky that was a flawless transition from purple to indigo, as well as a buzzling city which's lights shone through the darkness. In the distance though, was a cliff mostly submerged in shadows, save for the two silhouettes that looked like human beings laying on its edge.

"It's nice..." San ended up muttering.

"Thanks, because it's mine."

"Oh."

Wooyoung pouted. "Are you disappointed 'cause it's mine?"

"N-No..."

Wooyoung rested his back against the wall their table was positioned against, and he was back to looking at San again. "We're still kind of strangers, so I can't tell you much, but..." He tapped his fingers over the table, and some of them grazed over San's in the process. San's fist curled, but he didn't move his hand away.

"But," Wooyoung continued, "this is like, one of the very few classes in this shitty fucking school that I actually like. And guess what? Mrs Kim doesn't even care that much about attendance, only wants her assignments to be handed in on time." He sighed. "But, my parents don't give a shit about that. They both think it's a waste of time, think I should occupy my time with more important subjects, yada yada yada. Fuckin' sucks hearing that crap almost everyday, y'know?"

San faced the boy beside him, hoping his anxiety towards this whole situation wasn't apparent. "I...I think you should just ignore them."

"Like how I'd ignored you?"

San swallowed. "Yeah."

"But, it never works."

"You can still try." San didn't know why he thought Wooyoung could easily ignore whatever bothered him, when he himself couldn't even ignore his internal demons.

"It didn't work with you, so what makes you think it'll work with them?" Wooyoung asked, crossing his arms across his chest. His tone was bordering on dismissive, but his eyes looked genuinely curious as to how San was going to reply him.

"I'm nice, they don't seem to be." San picked his nail. "And whenever I feel sad, I always try to think of nice things."

Wooyoung chuckled. "I should think of you, then."

San panicked. "I -- "

"Guess it's settled, then. I'll think of Choi San when my parents start to annoy me."

"I-I," San paused. "Y-You make it sound so..."

"So what? Weird? Gay?"

San didn't know how to reply.

"I'm not into you, though," Wooyoung said.

"Okay."

"I'll think of you in a non-homosexual way."

"Okay."

Wooyoung lightly kicked him. "Hey, stop saying 'okay' so much you weirdo."

"Oka -- Uhm, fine."

"God, you're hopeless. But then again, I like that."

San was confused. So, so confused.

* * *

a/n: thoughts?