TW: physical abuse & very harsh, demeaning language.

san is indescribably relieved it's beginning to get dark when he starts making his way home from wooyoung's place. he's grinning so astonishingly wide that, if it weren't for the lack of daylight, any passer-by would take just one look at him and assume he's some sort of psychopath to beware. because what kind of fool smiles this hard to themselves during a lone walk?

if anything, san would agree with such an assumption. he surely feels like a fool, a tremendously smitten fool, at that. he thinks he can still feel the tingling of wooyoung's lips on his skin, the warmth of wooyoung's embrace before he waved him goodbye.

it's safe to say, san's birthday wish came true.

he jumps in alert at the abrupt vibration that tickles his thigh. reaching for his phone, san smiles for the umpteenth time.

woo 🌙
hey sani!

me
hii :D

woo 🌙
are u home yet?

me
nope
still walking!!

woo 🌙
u sure u should be on ur phone then?
i don't want anything to happen to u

me
relax wooyoung
i'm not going to die

woo 🌙
u said that on the day we first met too

me
yeah and i was right :p
instead i made it eighteen years so i don't think you need to worry

woo 🌙
i'm glad you've made it this far
becoming friends w u is truly one of the best things to ever happen to me

me
you exaggerate too much

woo 🌙
who says i'm exaggerating?

me
i do

woo 🌙
well i'm not
trust me
i really like being ur friend sani

me
i really like being your friend too 😸
i mean you are my only friend but i wouldn't ever want it to be anyone else!!!
i can't imagine anyone being as good as you

woo 🌙
you're too cute

me
i'm not!!!!
i'm sorry wooyoung but i have to go now

woo 🌙
ahh that's okay bub
don't be sorry

me
i'll try text u in a bit! :]]

woo 🌙
yeah sure
i'll see u then sani <3

san thinks he might be blushing.

slipping his phone back into his pocket, he hoists up onto the windowsill of one of their sitting rooms. grip skilful, he lifts his body weight with his palms and, after trekking up the uneven bricks, slides onto the sill of his bedroom window. san rests his head against the cool pane, and takes a long, deep breath. then, he gets to moving again.

the faster he is, the better — the lesser chance of getting caught. san hasn't had a day as good as this in years, getting in trouble now would candidly be unfair.

budging his window open, san grits his teeth in terror at the hideous creak it sounds. his heart thumping in his chest, he hops into the familiar ease of his room and hurriedly twists the window shut behind him. in both exhaustion and relief, a sigh heaves from san's throat as he collapses onto his bare mattress.

his gaze bores into the plain, white ceiling afore him for a mindlessly long time. the san from only months ago would never have guessed, let alone believed, that he'd make it this far. that eighteen years in, he'd still be here, breathing whole. that he'd make a friend, who likes him and cares about him just for him, no other perfidious reason why. that he'd fall in love without completely despising himself for it, rather granting the feeling and relishing in its beauty.

eventually, san sits up. he's smiling as he shimmies his backpack off his shoulders, and undoes the zipper in one long swing of his arm. ribcage jittering in ecstasy, and with as much care as he can grasp in such an excited state, san removes wooyoung's gift from its plastic coating; incapable of sparing any haste, he sprints over to his dresser.

extraordinarily impatient, san waves the hoodie about until it's unfolded itself, marvelling. it's been hours, yet he still can't restrain the appreciative tears from springing into his eyes.

san shuffles out of the rough material of his blazer, replacing its security with the softer, more comfortable fabric. the sleeves completely engulf san's hands, and the hoodie reaches down to his thighs. san doesn't mind it. in fact, he finds he enjoys the fact that it's far too big for him, swallowing his petite frame. it warms him up, which san likes even in mid-july. almost as if a light bulb has buzzed in his head, his arms quickly fly up to the hood, folding it over his hair. the sight of the villainous-looking shark sitting on top of his head makes san giggle.

in his reflection, san notices a rosy kind of tint spreading over his features. his neck, his ears, his cheeks. joining the flourish of colour is an intensifying heat punching him directly in the face.

san reckons he's learnt by now what that means. surprisingly, it doesn't bother him.

bashful, his nose scrunches up as he smiles at himself. the instinctual thought of wooyoung causes san's heart to somersault unexpectedly, unsuccessfully so — leaving it to stumble over its feet and roll over to the ground. strangely enough, the feeling gets san giddy, exhilarated.

he doesn't know long he's standing there, in front of his mirror, smiling and giggling to nobody but himself in utter silence. san is just so content today, even after having returned to the daunting coldness of his home. he's never been more open to the idea of celebrating his birthday, celebrating himself, in his life, and it feels incomparably pleasant. san reckons he only has one person to thank for that.

it hazes his mind, the unordinary yet easeful emotion, so overwhelmingly much that he doesn't notice the drastic footsteps approaching until they're just a few feet away from his door.

panic strikes san's features, widens his eyes.

he only has the time to frantically climb out of his jacket and slip it far beneath his bed. definitely not the amplest hiding spot, but it's the first he thinks of as the footsteps get louder and louder — deafening.

san has just about crawled back up to his feet when his bedroom door is thrown open, slamming against the wall. the forceful impact causes his nightwear to fall to the ground from its hanger.

clenching his fists together, san gulps in fear. his lips are glued together as his father saunters towards him demandingly.

he crosses his arms over his chest, standing tall over san's frail body. "i see you're finally home," the man starts simply, expression grave.

shit. he noticed. of course, he noticed. he always does. san doesn't know why he had so much faith that he'll end up alright, to begin with; he sure does know where it came from. regardless, with the telling sideways tilt of his father's head, every last bit of hope collapses beneath his fingertips and shatters into indecipherable specks of dust. well, that didn't last long. as much as it disappoints san's heart, it's no surprise. he doesn't have good days. it's just against his nature.

the least, and most, san can do is try for an escape. "i— i— i'm—"

"where were you?" san's father intervenes carelessly. yet, his voice is calm, causing san's head to dip to the ground, petrified.

"i—" san gasps for air, knowing this overbearing feeling far too well. he attempts to fight it off. "i was— i was with seonghwa," he lies through his constricted throat. it's the best san's got. he can't risk losing wooyoung again.

san's father scoffs. it's unclear what encouraged the disbelieving gesture — san's "whereabouts" or the loud, hyperventilating breaths tightening san's chest.

"of course, you were with that bitch." rage smothers the man's tone. he's so crossed, his brows are nearly touching. in any other situation, where san isn't being cornered to the back of his bed, it would be a fairly comical sight. "how many times do we have to tell you, boy?" he growls, stepping forward. "huh?"

"i know, i'm— i'm sorry."

despite the unmistakable terror and urgency breaking his voice, san isn't sincere. he doesn't mean his words in the slightest. why should he be sorry? he doesn't have any reason to be. unlike san's parents, seonghwa cares for him. unlike san's parents, seonghwa loves him. unlike san's parents, seonghwa treats him like a real human being. seonghwa is the reason for san's everything. he makes sure he's eating enough, sleeping well, and isn't in any danger. it's all thanks to seonghwa san is here right now.

san isn't, and will never be, sorry for staying by seonghwa's side whilst everyone turns against him. obviously, he could never admit that aloud.

san's father snorts an unconvinced laugh. "be honest with me. are you truly sorry?" he asks, and the question doesn't seem rhetorical. "after going behind our backs countless times over?"

nose smeared in snot, san sniffles. "it's not that i'm going behind your backs. you just don't—" he shakes his head roughly. "you don't get it."

"get what? what is there to possibly—"

"i've spent every year celebrating my birthday with seonghwa," san interrupts foolishly, volume heightening. the offence scrawled across his father's face isn't enough to stop him just yet. "without any fail, he's been there. every single year, dad — before i could even walk! how much is it going to hurt any of us if i choose to see him for a few hours?"

frankly, san doesn't expect the sharp sting hurling his face to the left. not this soon, at least. although, it's sort of a heads-up for the ungracious fingers that seize his chin, forcing his gaze up to his father's wrathful glare.

"watch your fucking mouth," he spits, merciless as he compresses san's face between his grip. eyes wide, panting messily, a tear strolls down san's cheek due to the agony. it only coaxes a hoarse, sadistic laugh from the man's throat. "there you go, son — remember who you're talking to."

san almost topples to the ground when his father releases him. his entire body is quivering as he recollects his balance, fingers clenching onto nothing out of sheer panic. what has he started?

"good for nothing, aren't you?" san's father remarks, manically heartless. "good for fucking nothing besides crying over every other thing. just like a little girl."

like a little girl.

suddenly, hyunsuk's voice is paired with the man's. just as menacing, just as cruel.

san's tears have only escalated at the poison-like words being punched right at him, sobs tormenting his body with convulsions so unwaveringly intense his knees buckle. the mild shove his father sends into his chest is surely enough for san to collapse; he can't decide whether he's grateful he didn't fall face-first onto the rock-hard floor. perhaps things would be over faster, then.

"i'm right, huh?" the man rasps, grinning, smug with himself. "that's why you aren't saying anything anymore? that's why you're laying there like a—"

"shut up," san rouses with all his might.

he can just about see through the glossy fluid lining his vision, but even then, san could probably discern the blur of his father's features with his eyes closed. therefore, when the figure looming over him crouches down to his height, san feels his tummy curl in dread. a tight fist abruptly yanks at his hair, forcing his head up. san's face twists unbearably at the sting of his scalp, but most prominently, regret over the worst decision he's made in his life yet. fighting back.

the fury in san's father's eyes blazes an infinitely remorseless fire. "what did you fucking say to me?" he snarls, jaw clenched. san just trembles more and more, his cries uncontrollable beneath the man's gaze. "who do you think you are?!"

amidst san's sobs, the inhumane voice bellows across every wall. even despite the malicious grip keeping him up, san's body has practically gone limp, helpless beneath his father's wrath. his lips morph from one shape to another as he continues to bark, yet san can only pick up the hoarse sound of the man's voice rather than any coherent sentence, for his hearing has become muffled and disorientated. for that, he's honestly grateful.

until the same fuzziness settles over his vision, too, and now san really can't see anything, and— panic. panic ripples into san, because he doesn't know what to do anymore. if there is anything he can do. he's afraid.

he can still feel the threatening aura of his father nearby, his fingers groping his jaw, then tugging at his lip. san's throat hurts and his limbs are stuck. he's so afraid.

he just wants to be somewhere safe — somewhere warm and snuggly. he wants to be with seonghwa and wooyoung, seonghwa's warmth and wooyoung's joy. san is so fucking afraid.

and all the built-up fear hurtles at him suddenly, when he's falling without warning and his skull thumps onto the ground.

san breaks into a loud sob.

he hears it even through the grim smoke clouding his senses, loud and clear. the excruciating pain pounds against san's head repeatedly, almost rhythmically, insufferable heat searing his skin.

uncertainty overcomes him at the dazed sound of steps padding away, away from him. although it seems completely wrong because why would his father ever do that, san reckons he'd smile if it weren't for the throbbing in his head and his knees. however, only a few seconds pass before the fragmentary peace is skewed; something is hauled san's way, skidding across the floor.

a thin, flimsy material rustles against his elbow, perking curiosity and anxiety from him all at once. but all san sees is black, a pitch-black void, and it fills him to the brim with hope that this is nothing but a silly little dream, that he'll be waking up to the bright sunshine any second now. that doesn't happen.

rather, san's vision finally aligns with reality, and it all comes together. somewhat.

only because he can't figure out why on earth there's an empty bin bag laying before him.

san shuffles forward on his knees, a wince fracturing his features. he grazes his fingers over it, for no reason except in suspicion he may be deceiving himself. but no — the bin bag is there, and he has no clue why. what is he expected to do with one of these?

"you stopped crying now?"

san's breath catches in his throat. more unwilling than he's been in his life, he tilts his head up, just to discover that his father never left at all. he's only a few metres away, gruff voice resonating from san's dresser. smirking, as if he's pleased, triumphant. from the same spot that had san beaming just minutes ago.

"good," the man comments at his answer: complete silence. san feels his lip curl into another wretched sob. "i'm going to tell you what to do, and you're going to listen to me. is that clear?"

movement feeble, san nods his head.

"i said is that—"

"yes," san rapidly whispers. he sniffles, and attempts once more, louder, "yes, that's— that's clear. i understand."

his father's smile stretches into a wide grin as he leans back onto san's dresser. all casual and laid-back, like this means nothing to him. it upsets san more than he thought was possible; the brazen ridicule demeaning him makes him feel utterly pathetic.

"you're going to pick up that bag," the man orders apathetically, not a hint of sorriness in his tone. it's as if he's been drained from emotion completely.

"and with it, you're going to pack everything you need. i don't want to see you here after today."

san's eyes widen, tremble.

something cold and evil paralyses every function in his body. his arms refuse to budge, his mouth refuses to open, and his eyes refuse to blink.

"do i need to repeat myself?" his father presses.

despite the nonchalance in his voice, he sounds... entertained. like this is funny to him. a joke. a game in which san is his pawn.

clutching onto the bin bag by him, perhaps for dear life, san jams his eyes shut. tears, cool this time, accessorise the red soreness of his cheeks. he shakes his head.

"perfect. i'll give you ten minutes."

knuckles turning white, san melts into the embrace of his arms at the sound of his door creaking shut. if he can even call it his anymore.

san cries into his knees. he bawls and he wails, and he can't stop. not for a long time.

his thigh tingles suddenly with a vibration. then another, and another. san wishes it could help, but it doesn't. it doesn't help his state in the slightest. simply picturing wooyoung, his bright teeth and lustrous eyes, ejects a disheartened feeling in san. if even his father can opt to get rid of him, what worth does san possibly hold as a friend? as wooyoung's friend?

nevertheless, the first thing san thinks to retrieve into the handy bin bag is his new hoodie. he shakes off the dust habituating beneath his bed, folds it up as neat as he can with his overwrought fingers, and drops it into the bag.

wiping his tear-stained face with the back of his hand, san does the same with the rest of his belongings — just with less care, more of a rush. ten minutes seem to go faster than it usually does when your eyes are bloodshot, puffy, hurt so much they can hardly stay open.

lastly, san picks up his shiba plushie. he was eight when seonghwa gifted him the toy without any specific occasion, and it's by far the most treasured item he has. san places the animal atop the pile of his things, and ties the bag with a sturdy knot.

there, now he's ready. for what, he can't even tell himself. though, realistically, there's only one place in the entire world that will accept him like no burden.

san dares one last look at his reflection before he leaves for the stairs. in result, he almost laughs aloud. he looks straight-up dreadful.

maybe in another circumstance, san's mother would make a frustratingly excessive fuss over the unkempt sight of him. unsymmetrical school collar, dishevelled hair, bulbous eye bags. despite how much it eternally tore his self-perception, san knows as a fact he'd much rather prefer her overt comments on his appearance over this. this.

unlike ever, san's journey downstairs is deliberately slow. dragging the brimful bag behind him, each step turns into a moment, as if he's revelling in the movement. the dull paintings hung up on the side wall. the unreliable floorboards he's learnt to avoid. the smell of food from the kitchen just next door.

san reaches the last stair far too soon. breath unsteady, trembling and incomplete, he turns the corner.

his parents are there. right there, leisurely standing in the loft, waiting. waiting for him to leave. forever.

almost immediately, making san freeze in his tracks, his father steps forward. "i said ten minutes," he seethes, and san looks down, throat flattening. "ten minutes — not double that! why don't you ever just listen?!"

san flinches. he can't look up. "i'm—i'm—"

the man chortles. "you're what?"

"sorry," san whispers weakly, crying. "i'm sorry, i—"

"shut up," his father demands sharply. the words sting more than they ever have. "say goodbye to your mother and go."

ignoring the emptiness swallowing his heart, san brings his fists to his eyes, before slowly nearing his mother.

she's been staring at him for a while, san noticed, silent and motionless. contrasting immensely to san's eyes, sunken and almost pleading, the woman's gaze lacks much of anything. she's always had a flair for concealing her true feelings.

san doesn't move a muscle in his body when his mother leans forward.

differing from his harsh expectations, her palm finds san's shoulder. the gesture is tender, and san's bottom lip juts out at the sob tearing from his throat. he hasn't felt this in so, so long. years. why now?

san can't help but savour the measly gesture. he's always preferred his mother over his father, she's always been the better parent. no matter everything she's done, the insults and the neglect, she hasn't once touched san wrongly in her life. his mother still has a soul somewhere — buried impossibly deep, smothered in dust and cobwebs surely. but it's there, regardless.

san swears he's not seeing things when his mother's lips curve upwards slightly. a brief, half-hearted smile.

"goodbye, san," she whispers, as if she's incapable of anything more. she lingers on the tears streaming down san's cheeks, before withdrawing from his shoulder.

her arm brushes san's as she walks away.

———

a/n: wooyo docu later today aaaa i'm so so excited >< but also scared bc the song he's doing omfg :(( i'm going to cry for hours on end i just know it

also happy new year!!! first sansvenus update of 2023 i apologise for the utter misery 🥲 opposing to this bullshit i hope ur year has started off well and continues to bring a smile on ur face throughout <33 u deserve only the best always 🖤