Twisted metal, thick smoke, and blood. There was lots of blood. It spilled all over the granite road, reflecting off the moon in an angry red.

San wanted to leave this place. He didn't want to be here any longer at the scene of his parents' death. But yet still, his legs forced him to keep moving, his bare feet walking through the blood until the heavily destroyed car was right in front of him.

He couldn't see his parents' faces, only more blood. So much blood.

Tears stung the corners of San's eyes and rolled down his cheeks. His heart hurt, everything hurt.

He stared at his palms, and his hands began to shake because he was bleeding again.

"You did this," a voice sneered, alerting San's attention. A person stood in front of him and shoved him, almost making him lose his footing. "You killed your parents!"

"I -- " San gasped. His heart squeezed in the most painful way, and his knees wobbled, causing him to fall unto the rough road. "I-I'm sorry..."

A ghastly Seonghwa knelt before him, two gaping holes for his eyes. His jaw was clenched, this look of fury on his face that San had never seen before.

He grabbed San's collar, streaks of blood beginning to leak down his cheeks. "And now, you'll kill me too!"

San sprung up from his bed, his chest heaving and a cold drop of sweat trickling down his temple.

He rubbed his eyes, because he thought that if he did so as hard as possible, then the gruesome image of that accident would disappear forever. He should've been used to this, since this wasn't the first time he's had a nightmare, but for some reason, this one really seemed to affect him a lot.

He wrapped his arms around his bent knees and lowered his head, his breathing laboured and inconsistent. His hands trembled, his thumbs picking at his nails in a rapid fashion.

Cool down, think of something nice. You're okay. You're fine. Seonghwa doesn't hate you. San repeated these words in his head until they were like a mantra. Think of something that you like.

An image of a grinning Wooyoung seated at the school garden planted itself in his mind. The boy's smile was bright and enchanting, rivalling the rays of the sun. The wind then had been just right, tugging lightly at Wooyoung's black locks. San remembered being very happy then.

Yes, just think about Wooyoung, San instructed himself. Wooyoung will make you feel better, and he doesn't hate you. You're his friend. He thinks you're a good person.

San screwed his eyes shut, forcing himself to take deep breaths. Half of him wanted to search his drawers for his phone and call Wooyoung, but he knew that it was late at night, and he didn't want to disturb the other. San was still worried as to why Wooyoung had never called nor texted him back, but he convinced himself that the dark haired boy needed his space. The last thing San wanted was to be an inconvenience to someone else, especially someone who had been helping him so much recently.

So, San sucked it up and endured the rest of the night without anyone else getting added to the mix. He'd couldn't afford to feel lonely. After all, he'd been going through his problems alone all this time, right?

* * *

San never really wanted to go to school today. The place drained all his motivation and was a cesspool filled with judgemental idiots who thought the world revolved around them. He'd learned to block out people's offensive words towards him long ago, but that didn't mean the harsh comments didn't get to him at times.

The weather was a bit iffy too, the skies bordering on cloudy. The whole thing looked depressing, which mirrored San's mood almost perfectly.

He passed by the gates and saw Wooyoung standing off to the side with some taller guy, and contemplated stopping a little so Wooyoung could spot him.

Wooyoung did soon, but his expression remained stoic, his eyes dark and impenetrable. He looked like how he had when San first talked to him.

San guessed that something must have happened at home for him to be acting this way, and his gut flipped with unease at the thought.

Wooyoung kept watching him though, kept sneaking glances at him despite how unwaveringly blank he still appeared. San just slowly rubbed his arm and turned away before anyone could see them exchanging stares.

Throughout the classes San shared with Wooyoung, the latter would totally ignore San, either chatting with his other friends at the back or casually flirting with some of the female students.

And each time San witnessed it, he felt the phantom hole in his heart grow bigger and bigger.

During math, Wooyoung sat a few seats in front of San, and that wasn't because he suddenly had the urge to learn. No, it was to seat with this pretty long-haired girl called Im Sooyun so that he could chat with her some more.

Sure, this wasn't the first time San had seen Wooyoung with girls, but, ever since they'd became friends, the latter had hung out with him a majority of the time. So why... Why was he being like this?

San, you're being fucking dumb, San thought to himself. Wooyoung can hang out with anyone he wants. You're not his only friend. In fact, you're just a classmate he happens to talk to sometimes.

San's grip on his pen tightened a hundred-fold when Sooyun laughed at something Wooyoung said, the boy just tilting his head with that infuriatingly attractive smirk that made San's heart swell intensely.

And then Wooyoung slightly turned around, and their gazes collided. San accidentally dropped his pen, his fingers suddenly clammy and his heart beating a mile per minute.

Fuck fuck fuck, you absolute dumbass, San cursed at himself, picking up his stupid pen with his sweaty palms.

He straightened up, once more braving a glance over at Wooyoung's direction instead of focusing on his coursework like a model student. He nearly froze when he caught Wooyoung's stare again.

"Um," San whispered to no one in particular, biting his chapped bottom lip, but then Wooyoung looked away, completely ignoring him until the class was over.

The shrill bell rang, and students quickly filed out of the classroom. Wooyoung was one of the first to leave, and San couldn't help but wonder if he'd done something wrong again.

This was similar to the time Wooyoung had avoided him for the whole week, but that was when they barely knew each other. Now, San knew the boy enough to know that his parents may have had a hand in his strange behaviour.

* * *

San didn't stay in his class for lunch, and after texting Mingi that he'd be running a little late, he headed down the halls and past several classroom doors until he stumbled across the art room, which was the one Mrs Kim taught in.

No one was there upon first glance, but the door was slightly ajar so San took the chance to step in.

Portraits, empty canvases, paintbrushes and other art supplies were scattered all across the classroom. San pulled on his grey hoodie's drawstrings as his defense mechanism for whenever he felt too exposed or like he was intruding on something he shouldn't.

San, go out now. No one's here, doofus, a bitter voice in his head snapped, but yet still San stepped further into the class, eyes searching every corner for Wooyoung. Beside a table and a chair was what looked to be Wooyoung's school bag, that expensive black and red bag from some brand that San wouldn't able to spend money at in his lifetime.

San walked towards the bag, wondering if he should lay it on the table, or look around some more for the dark haired male.

The door suddenly slammed shut, which startled San.

"What are you doing here?" A voice asked, and San turned when he realized that he knew this voice.

Wooyoung stood there, his stance oddly cautious for a normally carefree guy like he was.

"I...I saw your bag," San started, noticing that the other boy was now looking somewhere else. And it stung. A lot. San cleared his throat, hating the lump that began to form in it. "Assumed you were inside."

"So now you're stalking me?" Wooyoung asked with a demeaning scoff. He moved closer to San to grab his bag. "You should leave."

San didn't know what came over him then. He stepped in, promptly blocking the other male from his school bag.

Their chests bumped, causing San's heart to leap into his throat. Wooyoung on the other hand, still looked unnervingly emotionless.

"Step aside." Wooyoung's voice was stiff.

"Wooyoung, what's wrong?" San asked. "Why are you like this? Did your parents do something?"

Wooyoung's jaw clenched. "Fuck off, San."

He told you to fuck off. See, he hates you now, just like everyone else. No one will ever like you. San's hands curled into tight fists.

"I won't," San answered, maintaining eye contact with the other. Wooyoung's words had stung, he couldn't deny that, but that didn't mean he'd leave when he so obviously knew that something had happened for him to react this way. "I know your parents did something, so please, just talk to me about it. I'm here to listen."

"There's nothing to listen to." Wooyoung made another move to take his bag, but before he could do so San grabbed his wrist. Wooyoung's eyes darkened. "San. Let me go."

"Not until you tell me what happened," San wasted no time in answering. "Isn't that what friends do?"

At this, the other male dryly scoffed. "Friends? Who said we were? Just needed someone to fuck with as a distraction. You were nothing to me."

San remembered Saturday night, remembered how up close and personal he and Wooyoung got. They'd talked a lot that night, and it'd been admittedly one of the best nights San had had in a while. But now, Wooyoung's words made it seem like everything had been some twisted illusion.

But still, San refused to take Wooyoung's words to heart. "I know you don't mean that."

Wooyoung's lips formed a sneer, and he crossed his arms. "I do, though. I don't want you anywhere near me again."

The lump in San's throat grew more and more, and his chest constricted painfully. Stop talking, Wooyoung. Please stop talking. I know you don't mean it.

"I-I don't want to force you or anything, but I know you want to talk to someone." San inhaled a sharp breath. "You're...you're just being mean to me because you're hurt. And it's fine, I won't judge you for it. I just want to be there for you, just like how you've been there for me."

Wooyoung still frowned, but his eyes had grown soft, lost. They glistened and reflected pain and fury, but those emotions weren't directed at San.

"I shouldn't be with you," he muttered, but his voice lacked all the edge it previously had.

San cautiously held him close, afraid to startle or anger the other boy. His arms settled around Wooyoung's back as he nestled his chin on his shoulder.

"You're okay," San gently reassured.

Wooyoung's body was still rigid, but a few seconds after, he slowly reciprocated the hug. "I can't hate you, no matter how much I try to."

San shut his eyes, his heart racing. "I can't hate you either. In fact, I think I like you more and more."

"Don't have feelings for me. I can't and won't return them."

San's heart felt as if it'd been ripped open by a dagger. "...I don't like you like that." Lies, lies, lies.

Wooyoung hugged him more, like he didn't want to let go. "Good."

* * *

a/n: thoughts?