Wooyoung was in San's Korean Language class the next day, and was seated at the back row like he usually was. This time though, he didn't blatantly avoid San's eyes, and when their gazes occasionally met during the class, Wooyoung even offered him a small wave.

'Focus on your work, asshole,' he'd mouthed when he caught San's eyes on him for the fourth time. He looked way too smug saying this, and San had to wonder if the guy had a hunch of the kind of effect he had on him. If he knew, he didn't seem to show it.

The teacher, a tall and carefree male in his late twenties, Mr Jeon had been jotting down the latest assignment on the board when San felt it. That slight buzz in his ears that was similar to a bee's, and he swallowed hard. His head felt heavy atop his neck, like it was sinking deeper and deeper into a large pool of water.

No, not now.

His gaze jerked all over the classroom, at the teacher who was still writing, and at the students either copying down their notes or whispering amongst themselves. No one looked out of place, except him.

His vision grew tainted, the nerves in his brain pulsating and grating away at his core. It was like a migraine, but worse. So fucking worse.

San's hand harshly gripped the other, trying to ignite a pain that would distract him from the mess that was going on in his head. He screwed his eyes shut, wanting to just scream and tear himself out of his skin.

I have to leave now. I have to, I have to, I have to --

San rose a hand, barely processing what was going on around him.

Mr Jeon stopped talking. "Yes, Choi San?"

Hurry up. San forced his eyes to open, his teeth gritting as he tried to withstand the pain. "I...I need to...to go to the bathroom."

"Are you okay?" The teacher's voice had grown more concerned now, but San just wanted him to hurry up.

The class was silent, of course it fucking was, but San, at this particular moment, couldn't care less about whatever the others were thinking about him.

"I just, need to use the bathroom."

Luckily, Mr Jeon nodded. "Would you like someone to accompany you?"

San had already stood up, a cold drop of sweat rolling down his temple. He hurriedly shook his head and then raced out the class, trying to keep his steps even.

Fuck, he internally cursed. Something like this had never happened at school before. It had always been someplace else.

He slammed his hands over his ears when that sensation of being drowned wouldn't leave him, ignoring the stares he got on his way to the boys' bathroom.

Faintly spotting the door, he lurched in, pushing through a stall and locking it. He grabbed the roll of tissue paper he saw, gasping when blood suddenly forced itself out of his throat and into the toilet bowl, some of it dribbling down his chin. Disgusted by his own body, San tried to clean out whatever he could, his limbs getting heavier and heavier the more minutes had passed.

Even with how weak he'd gotten, he still tried to wipe off any excess blood, not wanting to freak out anyone that happened to step into the bathroom. Exhausted, he hit his head on the side of the stall, and slept.

* * *

When San awoke, the entire bathroom was silent. He wondered how much time he'd spent inside the stall, but wasn't in the mood to worry about his classes when he'd just died once again. He didn't even know if he should let Seonghwa know what had happened, didn't want his cousin to get even more worried about him. San didn't even deserve to get worried about.

He flushed his mess and stood up, his legs unsteady. A small splotch of red stained the collar of his school uniform, and he planned on scrubbing it out at the bathroom sink once he left.

San coughed a little, unlocked the stall and got out. As it always did whenever something like this happened, San's mind had gone back to loathing his body. He wanted to get rid of himself. In fact, he should've gotten rid of himself a long time ago. Then others wouldn't have had to die because of him.

He sighed, about to walk towards the sink when a hand grabbed his. He gasped and turned around, his eyes blown wide in shock.

"Shit," Wooyoung dropped his hand and frowned. "Sorry." He dusted himself off, totally ignoring the frightened look on the other's face.

"W-Wooyoung." San curled his fists, not knowing why the guy just had to be here, at this point in time. His eyes nervously drifted off to the stall he'd previously been in. "I-I -- Why are you here? Why did you follow me?"

"You just, bolted out of the fucking class," Wooyoung explain, slinging his bag's strap over his shoulder. "Why wouldn't I follow you?"

San inhaled and exhaled, his entire body feeling lightheaded. "How...how much time did I spend in there?"

Wooyoung shrugged, his eyes on San once more. "Maybe...about thirty minutes?"

"...And how long did you stay here?"

"You didn't seem like you were going to leave anytime soon, so I decided to camp here for a bit." Wooyoung patted his bag. "Couldn't smoke since I had no idea what was going on with you in there -- you could be fuckin' asthmatic for all I know -- so I just stayed out here and listened to some music. Was kinda calming, actually."

San chewed on his lip, moving closer to the sink. "Uh, thanks. For staying here, I mean."

And of course, Wooyoung followed after him.

San paused, meeting the other boy's gaze through the mirror.

"What? Do what you gotta do, I'm not interrupting."

Yes, yes you are, San wanted to argue. Just by being here right now, behind me, is interrupting me in every way possible. And not to mention, you never fail to fucking distract me all the damn time. Why are you always on my mind?

San groaned, his jaw clenched as he washed his face with the sink's water, trying to rub the exhaustion out of his eyes. The water soaked his skin, cleaning out what needed to be cleaned, but San knew there was nothing that could erase or scrub away the many atrocities he'd committed in his lifetime.

He blew out a breath and screwed the tap shut, coasting his pale hands through his black hair, only for a couple strands to fall across his forehead once more. His heartbeat thumped in his ears the moment he noticed Wooyoung staring at him from the mirror. San's breath hitched. He probably thinks you look like shit.

Wooyoung pulled out his phone, trying to look like he was busy. San thought that maybe he was uncomfortable to look at. If that was truly the case, he wouldn't be surprised.

"You okay?" Wooyoung asked, as straight-to-the-point as usual, but this time, his tone was laced with a faint, but recognizable worry.

San resisted the urge to bite his nails. "You want the cute, or the honest version?"

Wooyoung lifted his gaze and, with his eyes slowly raking his form from top to bottom, scrutinized him. But it wasn't like, mean or anything. He actually looked amused. His lips quipped into a smirk. "Honest version. I fucking hate lies."

San stared at the floors, wringing his hands together. He let out a chuckle that lacked all sense of humour. "I'm not okay, to be honest..."

"And why is that?"

"We're not that close, you said it yourself," San replied.

"But," Wooyoung jutted his lower lip, "I'm your master."

San couldn't help it. He smiled a little, despite his current situation. Wooyoung still looked really pretty, and his lips reminded San of lovely rose petals.

"And plus, I already told you. I really hate lies."

San could hear the shouts and chatter from students outside the bathroom, and he was suddenly reminded of where he was. "We need to go to class."

"Not until you tell me the truth." Wooyoung stepped even closer to him, and San froze as the former's thumb brushed just below his jawline, his warm touch rivalling the heat that'd begun to unravel inside San's chest. "...And why," he flicked at San's shirt collar, "there's blood staining your shirt."

San inwardly flinched, and took a step back. There was no way he could tell Wooyoung what happened to him, no matter how much he wanted to. It just didn't feel right. He had no idea how Wooyoung would take it.

"I need to go to class," San repeated.

"You aren't going to tell me anything, are you?" Wooyoung frowned, smacking his arm. "Asshole."

"Ow," San grimaced, rubbing said arm.

He watched as Wooyoung walked over to the bathroom door, only for some guy to rush inside and head into a stall. The dark haired male ignored it though, turning to face San.

"But, I'll find out about it soon enough, Choi," he sang, before smirking and leaving the bathroom.

San glared at his reflection in the mirror, cursing himself to hell and back for being so obvious, so stupid.

I'm so stupid.

* * *

a/n: eh not my best chap, but thoughts?