tw: panic attack, ptsd 'flashback'

* * *

《 maybe i'm just being selfish
or maybe i just don't deserve it 》

San stared out of the car window, a mild frown settling on his lips as the cold late afternoon air caressed his face and tickled his nose. Glancing at the rearview mirror, he could see the faint pink gracing his cheeks, and his frown deepened even more.

God, Summer had to be his least favourite season, from the way it became disgustingly hot at day to how annoyingly chilly it got at night. It was even worse with the white turtleneck and tuxedo he had on at that moment, the pricey clothing smothering him with every terse inhale.

What's taking him so freaking long? San flipped out his phone and checked the time, his brows knitting at the fact that nearly thirty minutes had passed since he'd last parked here at this obscure, tiny ass bakery, and his older brother still hadn't left the establishment. What is he doing?

San tried not to let his frustration show. He leaned into his leather seat, goosebumps scurrying along his skin as he tapped on the steering wheel to pass the time. His jaw ticked at he stared at the lit bakery once more, sucking in an angered breath when another customer that wasn't his brother exited the building.

This whole arrangement was getting on San's nerves. He hadn't planned on entertaining anyone he knew tonight -- or even for the rest of his two-week stay in Haeundae at his hotel suite, wanting to just get away for a bit before he got thrust into his shitty, mundane daily schedule once again.

He'd planned on just pigging it out while watching Netflix and wrapping himself up in bed like a hermit crab without ever interacting with anyone for this entire break, only to get a call that morning from Jongho about how 'urgently' his presence was needed. A simple drive to go get breakfast quickly turned into a borderline shopping spree, and it made San regret ever heeding to the man's suggestion of having his vacation spot so close to his.

San wanted to go back to his hotel. He wanted it now.

A message bubble flew on top of his darkened phone screen.

- why have i not blocked you yet
hey, are you at your hotel rn?
i miss you

- why have i not blocked you yet
let's have some fun again, just like the other times

San felt his irritation spike into a whole new peak. Letting Seo Rihyeon into his bedroom was already a mistake in and out of itself. He'd been drunk back then, left numb and disappointed after another arranged business gathering with some guy that his father had apparently been close with. The highly sought-after model had been at the venue, and things had escalated from there.

She was pretty, San gave her that, but he wasn't attracted to her. Never had been. But that didn't stop him from sleeping with her a couple times as he'd needed the diversion, but now he was tired of it. And she was starting to get a little too clingy for his liking.

- san
stop trying to contact me
do you want a restraining order?

- why have i not blocked you yet
stop being difficult, i just want a good fuck
where are you?

San looked out the window, biting the inside of his cheek. The bakery's indoor lights had gotten slightly dimmer, but through the sliding glass doors, he could see a handful of the customers who'd decided to lounge inside and eat their orders instead of bringing them out. Fists clenched, San searched for Jongho, his teeth gritting when he saw the older seemingly chatting with one of the female workers there.

San squeezed his eyes shut, refraining from dialing his brother's number right then and chewing him out. This close to opening the car door and stepping out, he glanced at his phone again, already wishing he'd never done so when he read over the contents of Rihyeon's texts.

- why have i not blocked you yet
san?
you should answer me instead of keeping silent
why are you so adamant on keeping your distance from me when we've fucked so many times?

San huffed out a tired sigh.

- san
the last time we met was two months ago
if you didn't already know, we're over

- san
stop messaging me and go do something important with your life

- why have i not blocked you yet
wow
you're a fucking jerk

San already knew he was. He'd heard it all, from people whispering behind his back about how bratty and mean-spirited he acted, to how disappointing and pointless he was in comparison to his father and older brother.

He knew he'd never belonged from the start, so what what Seo Rihyeon trying to pull?

- why have i not blocked you yet
you're a piece of shit, you know that right?
what if i tell others, huh? let them know about how you basically used me for my body and the times you cried in my arms after getting so shitfaced drunk you could barely remember your own name?

- san
say a word and be ready for my lawyer

San then deleted her number off his phone, tired of chatting with her.

Still, he couldn't help the way his hands pathetically shook as they raked down his hair. He was trembling from inside out at the fact that Rihyeon knew, but he kept telling himself over and over that nothing would get out into the open.

"Shit!" He slammed a hand on the steering wheel, pain buzzing beneath his fingertips at the force. He managed to switch on his phone despite his shaking palms, ready to call Jongho before something in his peripheral view caught his attention.

The grip San had on his phone loosened as the sliding doors to the bakery parted ways, exposing the slumped figure marching out.

He was familiar, though San didn't even know how he looked like. He'd been talking with a woman just minutes prior, but here he was, rushing out of the building like he was carrying the entire world on his back.

For a few seconds, San just watched, forgetting about his own problems and instead focusing on the boy. He looked young, dark brown hair reaching his cheeks and getting tousled around in the evening breeze. He scuffed his hands into the pockets of the worn black hoodie that hung off his frame, soon disappearing into the approaching night.

San blinked. For a moment, he felt like leaving his car and talking to the other male, just for reality to quickly sink in. Why were you just watching him? Stop being so fucking creepy.

San shut his eyes, trying not to think about Rihyeon's threat or that unknown boy, yet they still invaded his thoughts.

Something rapped against the window, pulling San right out of his daydream. He swung his head to the side and there Jongho was, grinning at him like he knew all his deepest thoughts and desires.

San's hard frown made a reappearance. "You startled me. What the heck was that?"

Jongho beamed, and San didn't know how someone could look so chirpy and smiley around this time of night. He envied him. "Thought it would've been fun catching you unaware."

San scoffed, drumming his fingers over the wheel while Jongho hurried to the passenger's seat as swiftly as he could, considering the blue cast wrapped around his left arm.

"I just don't get it," San began once Jongho managed to fit the things he bought on top his lap. "Don't get why you couldn't just make Yunho your driver instead of me."

"Oh don't be so difficult, San." That adjective again. "You know why I couldn't bring Yuyu along with me. He's at his parents', and of course, I want to surprise him when he returns with everything he likes."

San fought the urge to roll his eyes at the nickname Jongho had called his supposed boyfriend by. Endearing or not, San barely knew the guy and hadn't spoken a single word with him. But it didn't matter anyway; Jongho's personal life was none of his business.

"Yeah, okay," San replied, reversing out into the road. A tiny part of him wondered which direction that boy went. "But you contacted me in the morning, and here it is, nearly six in the evening. But then again, it's my fault for choosing to listen to you."

"Hey." Jongho raised his working arm in surrender. "What's so wrong with wanting to hang out with my baby brother?"

San laughed, short and harsh. "More like: what's so wrong with using my perfectly capable brother who -- coincidentally -- drives a car to become my personal chauffeur while I'm currently unable to do so?"

"San."

"No need to deny it. You never spend time with me after work anyway."

"Because you always disappear off when I try to talk to you," Jongho exclaimed, letting out an exasperated breath. "And when I do make plans to see you, you leave me hanging, making up some excuse as to why you didn't show up. You've never bothered showing interest in what I did outside Choi's Highlight."

San's grip on the steering wheel tightened as he drove in the opposite direction of the bakery. His heart thumping dangerously under his chest, he remarked lowly, "Says the guy who turns up his nose at everything I do in my spare time. I hate having you around sometimes, hyung. You suck the fun out of everything."

Jongho's brows furrowed. It was obvious he found San's words incorrect, and was probably planning on twisting them to make himself look like the better person.

"You can't blame me for thinking that way, not when you almost got caught with drugs in your possession just months before graduating high school." Bingo.

"Don't worry," San's smirk was hollow. "I'm not your drug-obsessed baby brother anymore. God knows how embarrassed you were of me because of it."

"San, stop it," Jongho warned.

"What? Is it not true?" San clenched his jaw, blood racing to his ears. The road in front of them looked endless, a sea of black that spiralled into the unknown. "You even told that to my face a couple times before."

"Jesus, San," Jongho hissed, fingers curled so tightly over his thigh they turned pale. "That was in the past. I already apologized -- countless times. I said I was sorry, and I still am. You're the one who's still convinced that everyone hates you."

San turned a corner, head spinning with rage. "Don't they? Even you. Even dad. Everyone thinks I'm not fit to work where I am and everyone thinks I don't deserve to associate myself with you. You even said it yourself. Why work in my father's company when I'm just slacking off, buying and spending uselessly?"

"Because I know you can do so much better, San!" Jongho spat. "You got such good grades in school, but dad and I didn't say a thing when you dropped out of college -- "

"You know fully well that dad only cares about his dear elder son taking over his business empire."

"We overlooked the shit you did and the trouble you got us in," Jongho continued despite San's bitter words, and it drove the younger mad. "I saw how stressed out your classes made you, and cared for you as much as I could when you struggled to navigate through work when dad couldn't. I even put you in one of the best rehabilitation centers in the country to help you overcome your drug addiction and get you back on your feet. So why wouldn't I get angry when you keep getting drunk and going to bed with everything that moves?"

The atmosphere drastically soured, and fuck, San could feel something in his heart breaking. His chest felt heavy, like it'd been trampled mercilessly upon, making each inhale excruciating. He blinked away the tears that threatened to drip down his cheeks, cursing himself for being so goddamned pathetic.

"I'm so sorry, San," Jongho spoke. The fire in his stare had extinguished, eyes plagued with guilt and worry. But the damage had already been done. "I don't know what came over me. It's just... I've had a hard time lately with everything." A pause. "I really wish you'd come visit dad with me once in a while."

San swallowed down the painful lump in his throat. He inhaled a large breath, his lungs crumpling. "What's the point? For someone who keeps forgetting who I am, he sure doesn't like me being around."

San could still remember his most recent visit to that long-term care facility. How could he not when his own father had verbally expressed his dissatisfaction seeing him time and time again?

"That's not true."

San had to chuckle, even though he felt like he was dying on the inside. "Okay."

"San, stop being like this."

"Don't you dare say another word," San said, taking a roundabout. He couldn't wait to drop Jongho at his and his boyfriend's summer house and finally have some peace. "I'm begging you. I don't want to hear anything else."

It was clear Jongho wanted to say more, but fortunately, he kept his lips sealed. San felt relieved, because he wasn't sure how long he would've held on without crying if the man had continued on the topic.

For a while, there was silence, which San was grateful for. He ignored every concerned glance Jongho shot his way, not wanting to acknowledge how miserable he probably appeared.

"...You're the first person I'm telling this to, but uh," Jongho rubbed his neck. "I'm going to propose to Yunho this Christmas."

San gulped, heart skipping a beat. "That's good. I hope he says yes."

"I hope so too," Jongho smiled, fidding with the golden ring on his right hand. "We'll get married overseas if everything goes well. And I...I want you to be my best man."

The lump in San's throat grew. He forced on a smile. "I think Kim Hongjoong would be better suited for that."

Jongho chuckles. "Nah. I want you there with me. Hongjoong can like, go as your date or something."

San immediately grimaced, choking on his spit. "No way."

"He told me he's into you."

"No he didn't."

"Fine. He didn't," Jongho admitted, grinning at San. "But both of you work in the same department anyway. It wouldn't hurt to, you know..."

"No, hyung."

"Alright, alright."

San seriously couldn't wait to head back to his hotel room and get himself lost in his thoughts again. With that in mind, he drove a little faster down the noiseless highway.

"Would be nice if you drove a little less recklessly," Jongho commented, but there wasn't anything mean in his tone. Only advice. "I'm holding a cake, after all."

"That cake can go shove it."

Jongho laughed, staring at his brother with kind eyes. "Hey, San -- "

San never got to hear what he wanted to say. He lurched forward as something crashed against the side of the car, and then he was spinning, a pain he'd never experienced before tearing through his right shoulder like a wild animal's bite.

He didn't know what was going on. Thick smoke tainted the air and his eyes watered, the nauseating tang of burnt metal and fresh blood making him want to throw up. His head hurt.

His bleary eyes opened as his limbs felt stapled to the ignition, and there Jongho laid, perfectly still like he was sleeping. Half of his face was smeared with blood. So much blood.

San wanted to scream, wanted to shout for help, but nothing came out. He couldn't even move, forever caged to a body that ceased to listen to him while he watched his older brother, who he'd been been talking to just moments before, dying in front of him.

He convinced himself Jongho was just asleep, not once allowing himself to believe otherwise even as he lost consciousness, shutting out the sirens blaring in the distance.

San yelps and then he's awake, heaving to retain all the oxygen he's lost. The scar stretching across his right shoulder throbs, a reminder of the torture he'd endured those two years ago.

His trembling hands fist the material of his shirt, his heartbeat roaring against his eardrums. He feels like he's lost total control of his body; like he's back in that car, trapped to one place as he watched the person he loved dearly lose himself before his very eyes.

San doesn't make an effort to stop the teardrops streaming down his face, shoulders hunched as he tries to make himself smaller than he really is. Maybe then he can hide away; pretend he doesn't exist.

The blankets rustle, a shadow rising from where they'd previously laid beside him. It takes San a moment to recognize Wooyoung's tired face through his foggy vision, and as soon as he does he turns away, not wanting the younger to catch him in this state.

"...San?" Wooyoung's voice is soft, but it easily breaks through the screeching tires and shattered windows. San stiffens when he feels something warm filling in the space between his fingers. "Are you okay?"

San makes the move to wipe off his tears, disgusted with himself when even more of them drown his cheeks.

The piercing shriek of metal hitting metal rips into his head right then, and his heart drops. He recoils in terror, slapping his hands over his ears to get it to stop. He wants it to stop.

"San," Wooyoung calls out. He isn't touching him anymore, but his presence remains, a steady anchor inside the storm called his thoughts. "San, it's okay. Whatever you're seeing or hearing right now isn't real. You're -- you're safe. With me."

"I'm going to die."

"No. No you're not." Wooyoung sounds more strained, but his voice is still a calm whisper. It loosens the knots in San's stomach. "You're here with me right now, on your bed. We're both safe. I won't let you get hurt."

Deep inside San's ears, he can still hear the whirring sirens, can still see his brother's bloodied face and still feel strange hands tugging him into several directions. They haunt him, intent on ridding him of his life, but with Wooyoung there, they don't seem as scary.

"You're perfectly fine. I'm fine too, see?" Wooyoung cups San's chin and turns him to his face, his thumb soft and cautious. "Just take deep breaths. And focus on me. One..."

Blood clings to San's nostrils, grappling his head with images of his and Jongho's bodily injuries. Yet, he wills them away despite how difficult it is, hand clasped over Wooyoung's as he guides him into breathing properly again.

San's eyes fall on Wooyoung's face. His eyes are brown and ashy green under this light, framed by luscious lashes and exuding comfort and familiarity. The mole under his left eye's still there, complementing his nose and lips, the lovely cupid's bow pink and inviting.

Yes, Wooyoung's here, San thinks. He's really here. He's not going to leave. His eyes trace from the gentle slope of his bare shoulders to his exposed chest and arms, awed once again by his sheer beauty.

The hazy moonlight spills over Wooyoung's face and his naked bronzed skin, making him glow, and San can't believe this man is truly his.

San reaches for his face without thinking, but Wooyoung stays still. His breath audibly hitches as San runs his fingers across his lips, and when San pulls him into a hug he reciprocates it.

"You're okay, Sannie."

San doesn't want to let him go, hands woven into his silky hair.

"D'you wanna go back to sleep?"

San thinks of screeching tires and his brother's frozen body, and quickly shakes his head. He feels like he's imagining it, but Wooyoung's body sags a little.

"...Okay. What do you wanna do, then?"

"W-We can go back to sleep," San retracts his statement. "You're tired."

"No," Wooyoung shakes his head, lazily sifting his fingers through San's hair. San completely melts into his touch, wanting nothing else other than this. "I'm fine. We're taking care of you tonight."

San chuckles, a pleasant shiver shooting up his spine at the feel of Wooyoung's hands in his hair. "Thank you."

"Any suggestions on how we can spend the time?" Wooyoung asks, planting a kiss to San's neck.

San doesn't move, allowing the younger man to pepper kisses over his skin. He loves it; just like he loves anything that has to do with Wooyoung. "Um..." he tilts his head, smiling into the kiss Wooyoung offers him. "Can you read me a bedtime story?"

A second passes, but it's a second too long and nervousness claws San's stomach, making him wish he'd never uttered that suggestion out loud. "We can do something else -- "

Wooyoung shushes him with a kiss on his nose. It's a little strange since Wooyoung isn't one to show physical affection so often, but it warms his heart all the same. He really likes it.

"I'll read you a story," Wooyoung says. Now that San's directly facing him, he notices the purplish undertone to the younger's eyes. He really looks like he needs a nap. "Where do you keep all your books?"

"You sure you don't wanna sleep?"

"After you're comfortable," is Wooyoung's reply. He has no idea of the way San's adoration for him grows by that mere statement.

"Um... I keep the books in the room to the left of the walk-in closet."

Wooyoung hesitates a bit, before eventually slipping out of the bed. "Bet you have a whole ass library in there. What kind of books would you want me to read?"

"Classics are nice." San can't stop himself from appreciating Wooyoung's figure. He's lean all around, but he's also so soft, the missing piece that completes San's puzzle. Perfect.

Wooyoung catches him staring, but he doesn't drop his gaze, unabashed.

"Pervert." The tip of Wooyoung's ears are cherry red.

"You're so pretty. I can't help it."

Wooyoung doesn't answer, soon disappearing into the wide wardrobe, and San waits, tucking himself under his fluffy duvet with the tiny smiling owls on it. The effect is instant; San feels himself entering a headspace where everything's a lot more peaceful and serene.

And when Wooyoung arrives in a silken pink robe that hugs his curves in all the right places, a bunch of books in hand, San kind of feels like he's in paradise.

"Take your pick," Wooyoung spreads the books across the nightstand. San resists the urge to drag him into his arms.

San takes Jane Eyre. "It's one of my favourites."

Wooyoung smiles, wide enough to showcase his dimples. "I like it too. Though I only read it like, once in middle school." He laughs at this, and San joins him.

"Never took you to be the type who likes reading," San says. Yes, Wooyoung may be the mysterious 'brooding' type, but that didn't mean he enjoys spending his time with his nose between a book.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me, San."

It's meant to be a joke, the way Wooyoung said it, but it catches San off-guard because it's true. He doesn't know much about who Jung Wooyoung is on the inside, and it makes him a little sad.

"Well," he pouts, "you can tell me everything."

Wooyoung giggles, but it sounds more like a snicker. He falls into the space next to San, opening up the novel. "There's a lot of bad parts to my story, San. A lot if things that don't necessarily make me out to be the best person. And they're not interesting or groundbreaking either, not like this book."

"It doesn't matter," San replies, meaning every word. "I don't think I can ever hate you."

Wooyoung looks at him, his questioning mismatched eyes reminiscent of stardust. San can't look away. "I'm unlikable."

"You aren't."

"Yes I am," Wooyoung presses, and all of a sudden San remembers the way he made himself believe that too, once upon a time. "Say that to all those people who've fucked me over or blew me off just for breathing."

"That's because they're assholes. Not everyone's like that. Some people actually care about you, even if it's hard to believe at times," San tells Wooyoung, the fight in his eyes reminding him of himself.

Wooyoung narrows his eyes, but they aren't even staring at the older. Instead, they're somewhere else, far out of San's reach. "Sure."

"I care a lot about you, Wooyoung," San says, because Wooyoung's flippant attitude alarms him and he wants nothing more than for the younger to believe that he means something.

That he means the world to him.

The aggression in Wooyoung's eyes crumbles, giving way to the recognizable affliction below. He's been hurt, San realizes, treated unfairly by everyone he's come across. The mask of indifference he wears is his shield, hardened under years and years of getting shunned by the people who were supposed to support him. San gets it. He really gets it.

"I'm adopted," San begins, lowering his gaze when Wooyoung watches him. "Isn't exactly something I go about telling others, so consider yourself lucky I guess. Anyway, I found that out after doing some digging around, and I soon regretted it because it made me feel like I didn't deserve everything I'd gotten. Like, I figured if my actual parents didn't want me enough to keep me, then who would?"

Wooyoung says nothing, but his eyes are on San the whole time. And San's sort of thankful, because he doesn't know what he would've done if Wooyoung had tried to verbally console him.

"Landed me in a bunch of fights with my father and older brother." At this, San feels his heartache. "I didn't like the life I'd been handed, even when I knew I should've been grateful. We never saw eye-to-eye -- they were too strict -- and of course, when I became a teenager, I started to sneak out at night to stay away from them."

Wooyoung smiles, his eyes more alert. "Really? You sneaking out of the house? I don't believe you."

"That's 'cause I was an entirely different person back then," San says, because it's true. Part of him wants him to feel ashamed of talking about this side of him with Wooyoung, of all people, but he doesn't allow it. "I smoked, drank, did all kinds of drugs, had sex with whoever could distract me for the time being. I became the typical fuckboy I swore I would never be.

"Things got worse when my brother started to catch on. He's five years older than me, and was often busy with Choi's Highlight by the time I became a senior in high school."

Wooyoung still doesn't say anything, his arms around San's waist all the confirmation he ever needed.

"Dad married and had my brother late," San continues, and it's at this part that the butterflies in his tummy start turning into wasps. "So, when -- well, when he started having lapses in his memory, forgetting where and who he was..."

"Hey, you don't need to add anything else," Wooyoung speaks up, resting San's head on his chest. He holds him like he's the taller, bigger man of the two, and San treasures it.

"I soon realized I should've been a better son to him. Though he isn't my biological dad, he's supported me more than my real dad ever did. M-My brother too, Jongho hyung -- " San breathes, fisting Wooyoung's robe. "I should've been nicer to him too. Maybe...maybe then I won't have to feel so goddamned terrible whenever I go visit him at the hospital."

"Hospital?" Wooyoung says, brows raising.

"Yeah." San sniffs, hating how stuffy his nose feels. "Remember that accident I told you about? Management kept it under wraps. At least he's minimally conscious now."

Wooyoung tenses. "Oh my god. I'm so sorry."

"Nope, none of that," San laughs, hoping that doing so would lessen the burden on his heart. "I'm not saying this to make you feel sad. I just...I want you to be able to see that there are people who do care for you in their own way. My brother did, and my father did too. They both cared about me, but I...I never showed them my gratitude. I never expressed how much I loved them and how lucky I was to have them in my life. I waited too late."

"San..." Wooyoung's trembling like a leaf, holding on to him for dear life.

"I wish I'd gotten more time. But that's the way life works sometimes, doesn't it?" San's composure cracks, an unhappy smile breaking through. "You never know what'll hit you until it does."

"I'm so sorry, hyung," Wooyoung whispers, but San shakes his head.

"Don't apologize." San leans his head against Wooyoung's, memorizing every detail of the splendid man in front of him. Minute or not, he likes them all as they make the smaller who he is. "Just... don't hesitate in putting yourself out there and taking chances. Speak your mind, love fully. There are people out there who would love to get to know you better. I'd know; I'm one of them. I'll support you."

I love you.

Wooyoung's lips quiver. "What are you saying? Why? I haven't done a single thing for you, and -- and yet you keep looking at me as if you'd die without me."

"I think that's a pretty accurate assumption," San teases, though his heart is racing a mile a minute. "I mean, I've liked you for a while now. You make me truly happy; something I haven't felt like in a long time."

The sweetest shade of pink lights up Wooyoung's face, and San falls deeper. "...Since when?"

"Hm?"

"S-Since when have you liked me?"

"When you bought me those snacks and played that video game with me," San answers, grinning at the memory. "At first, I thought that maybe you'd done so out of you wanting me to forgive you, but then I realized you could've just said sorry without getting me anything."

He reaches for Wooyoung's hand, entwining their fingers. "You cared. That was all it took for me to start having feelings for you."

Wooyoung bites his lip, running his thumb along the bumps of San's knuckles. "So."

"So..."

Wooyoung hastily rubs his eyes, trying to make his tears not as obvious. He silently giggles when San pokes his cheek, only to grimace a second later. "I -- I took your words to heart. Let's go on a real date."

San feels like he's about to burst into fireworks. "With that expression?"

"San."

"If we date, then that means you're willing to be my boyfriend...?"

Wooyoung's grimace hardens. "Yes."

San grins so wide it nearly splits his face in half. "Cool."

"Cool." Wooyoung fiddles with the sleeves of his loose robe, unsure of how else to react.

"What about that story?"

"Oh." Wooyoung picks up the forgotten novel. "This?"

San shakes his head, chuckling at the younger's confused face. "No. Your story."

* * *

a/n: thoughts?