tw: suicide attempt

and guys, woo's story is the flashbacks you've been reading all this time

* * *

《 and i have to wonder
if this life's truly the right
one for me 》

July 10.

Wooyoung stared at the worn calendar duct-taped to the dull grey wall of his one bedroom apartment. The date was harshly crossed over in red highlight marker, the colour stark against the white surface.

Wooyoung hitched a low breath, shoving his hands into the pocket of his trousers. Today's the day.

He'd never really planned for it to go this way, nor for today's date to be the end. In fact, he'd blindly chose July as it was in the summer, swearing a couple months earlier he wouldn't go along with it if he'd managed to pull himself together by then.

Obviously, he'd failed. But it was alright; he wouldn't have the chance to fail anymore after today.

Wooyoung shut the calendar and threw it on his unmade bed, not wanting to look at it anymore.

Brows pinched, he raked his fingers down his hair, and when he caught sight of himself on the small mirror to his side, chuckles broke out of him.

He observed his face through the eyes he came to despise, down to his nose and stretched lips. It fascinated him how he could laugh when he felt so empty on the inside.

"I won't have to see your face again," Wooyoung whispered, grinning like a madman. "Today is the last time I'm going to look at you." He took a step back. Goodbye.

Head overwhelmed with thoughts as loud as the rainfall that pierced the earth earlier this morning, Wooyoung pushed himself out of the apartment before something could stop him.

The sound of the door getting locked echoed in tandem with his heartbeat, and for a second, Wooyoung had to rest against the door for support. He inhaled a quick, shallow breath, fingers digging into his knees. He felt like his legs were turning into jello.

All around him, life continued on as normal. Large streetlamps struck honeyed yellow into the dark, casting halos everywhere he looked. To Wooyoung's right laid houses identical to his, their windows lit with shadows of people blissfully unaware of what he was going to do soon. Some kid kicked a football his way, but raced for it before he could return it back. Not that he'd wanted to, anyway.

Wooyoung began walking, sneakers scuffing across the pavement and into the asphalt road. Surprised he'd even made it this far without stumbling, he looked up at the sky, the distant voices of his neighbours fading into the background.

A dreamy lilac filled his vision, complete with tiny sparkling stars that seemed endless from where Wooyoung stood. It was pretty; one of the prettiest skies Wooyoung had ever seen in his lifetime. A bitter smirk pulled at his lips at the irony of it all.

Wooyoung continued walking, pissed he'd gotten distracted by the sky, of all things.

With every minute that passed, Wooyoung found it a little easier to move. By the time he reached his destination, he stopped, anxiety shooting from his heart straight down to his toes.

Up ahead stood a congregation of bushes that'd been parted after several intrusions, revealing the dirt-path underneath. What appeared to others as a less than ideal location to hike was like a second home to Wooyoung; an exit when he needed some seclusion from the outside world.

And now he was back, ready to use it again.

After checking that nobody else was around him -- though it was unlikely since this place was unknown to most people here anyway -- Wooyoung climbed up the threshold, careful not to slip. Dust picked up behind him with every step he took, staining his already dirtied sneakers, but Wooyoung couldn't care less.

Indigo swirled into the sky, darkening it. The stars were barely visible over the thick, crooked canopy of trees surrounding him, the moon a clean-cut crescent sequined into the center.

Wooyoung pulled out his phone and switched on its flashlight, using it to guide him along the path he needed to head to. By this time, his heart had steadied into a comfortable hum, now as prepared as he was for the inevitable.

A lump settled in Wooyoung's throat at the sound of gushing water, mixing in with the heavy tang of earth and mildew. He managed to smile though, despite what it now meant for him. Now, there was no going back.

There were two paths in front of him. The bigger one to the right led deeper into the forest. The left, however, was the one he frequently used, his feet already following the familiar trail.

The weariness in his joints was a feeling he was very used to; a welcome hug. His legs burned and his lungs ached, warm droplets of sweat rolling down his neck, but sensation went all but ignored as Wooyoung picked up his pace, not a second to spare.

The weight on his chest immediately lifted when the salty smell of the river clung to his senses. The downpour of water was almost deafening, but in the good kind of way. Here, Wooyoung was practically immune to his thoughts. Here, he was alone, just like he always was, balanced between life and death.

The cliff looked a lot less hopeless the last time Wooyoung saw it, its elongated curve chipped in certain areas and thinned under the unforgiving weather.

Despite its unsightly state, a few flowers grew on the edge, a splash of colour unfolding in the midst of despair. Wooyoung sometimes played with their petals as he meditated, but he wasn't here for that today.

The choatic river slammed itself over the large rocks below, as anxious as Wooyoung felt. The water looked muddy beneath the moon, reminding him of inky tears. How fitting, he thought, considering the tears streaming down his face. He didn't bother wiping them off.

One move and he'd be falling, and with the height of the cliff itself, he'd most likely die, which was what he wanted.

He couldn't believe he was really going to do this. But then again, he'd expected that this was going to happen sooner or later. In fact, he couldn't believe he'd made it this far without offing himself.

It was weird how silent Wooyoung's head was at that moment. He'd always imagined his mind would try to convince him otherwise with him being so close to death, but he guessed he'd dodged a bullet there. He didn't need himself reevaluating his decisions when he was determined to die; that would only waste his time.

Sniffing, he took a step forward, ready to descend. I guess this is it.

His phone pinged, the recognizable notification of a new text message. Wooyoung blew out a breath, intent on ignoring it.

Another one entered. And then another.

Unable to take it anymore, he glanced at the screen, only for regret to gnaw on him from the inside when he saw who those texts were from.

- mother
Wooyoung, where are you?

- mother
I went to the apartment and called your name, but you weren't there.

- mother
Tell me where you are. I need to see you.

The tightness in Wooyoung's chest worsened until he felt like he was being squeezed to death. His heartbeat was erratic, matching with the storming water down below.

He nearly jumped when his mother's caller ID popped across the screen, its bright font an eyesore. Too distraught to even do a thing, he let the call go unanswered.

- mother
For the last time, where are you?

Fingers shaking, Wooyoung forced himself to click on the keypad, hoping to somehow formulate a message that looked comprehensible enough.

- wooyoung
why do i need to answer you anytime you call for me?

- wooyoung
its sickening

- mother
How dare you?

- mother
Five minutes. That's how much longer I'm going to wait around for. No later.

An unrecognizable, disbelieving laugh bubbled out of Wooyoung right then. Of course; what else did he expect when it came to his mother?

- wooyoung
No.

- mother
Wooyoung!

- wooyoung
i don't have any money to give to you. not now, not ever
stop trying to control my life!

- wooyoung
i barely make enough as is!
why can't you understand??

- mother
Don't talk to me like that! I am your mother, young man

- mother
For once stop acting so selfish and inconsiderate

Wooyoung's frustration was eating him up alive; the pain was too much. He felt he was dying even though he still breathed, a pressurized container ready to explode into nuclear fury.

- wooyoung
i'm not the selfish and inconsiderate one here, mother

- wooyoung
it was a mistake ever helping you out.
ever since dad left and i started to work, all you did was take and take until i had nothing left. and i let you, because you were my mom. but not anymore

- mother
You and your father are the same
Utterly useless.

Something wet slid over the screen right then. It took a second for Wooyoung realize he was crying again.

- wooyoung
sorry then
for being so useless

- wooyoung
but don't worry
you wont have to see me again after tonight

A few seconds passed with no response from his mother, but Wooyoung waited with bated breaths.

- mother
Don't tell me you're going to kill yourself like you tried to do when you were fifteen

- mother
You're nineteen now. Get your life together

- mother
Do you need attention that badly? Do you want to start living with me again? What the hell do you want, Wooyoung? Because I've tried enough to raise you into a proper son, not someone deranged and mentally ill.

- mother
I just don't understand you

Wooyoung's legs gave way, sinking him to his knees.

- wooyoung
fuck you

- wooyoung
i hate you so much!
you ruined me
you and dad

- mother
No. You ruined yourself.

- mother
If you want to die that badly, then do it.
What's stopping you? You've been a burden to me since the day you were born. I tried to love you, I really tried, but you keep disappointing me.

- mother
You make me miserable.

Pain, excruciating and unbearable, tore into Wooyoung's heart, ripping it apart. He felt hollow, nothing but flesh and bones as he tried to process his mother's texts. Despite being exposed to the woman's vulgar words since he was a kid, it really hurt this time around.

Am I that horrible? What did I ever do to you other than treat you like my mom? Wooyoung sniffled, having to wipe his eyes over and over again to get rid of the tears blocking his sight.

"Every child deserves a parent, but not every parent deserves a child." The words of the nurse who'd tended to him in eight grade echoed in his mind like a ripple on a pond. He'd gotten in some silly little fight with a kid who'd stolen his pencil, resulting in a cut on his lip and a future meeting with his parents.

She'd stared at him, her eyes friendly, but Wooyoung couldn't hold her gaze for the life of him, too scared since his parents were going to get involved.

"I can only hope yours are treating you well?" She continued. "If they aren't, you can always come talk to me about it. Or, even when you feel sad and don't have anyone to talk to. You know I'm also the counselor."

Wooyoung could only sputter lies about how his parents were good people, because back then, he'd wanted to believe it so badly.

How naive he'd been.

With all the strength he could muster, he brought himself back on his feet. He could tell his mother was still on the other side of the screen, waiting for him to say something so she could deepen his wounds.

- wooyoung
stay miserable then, because im not going to die.

- wooyoung
i hope my existence continues to bring you the same amount of pain you've caused me

- wooyoung
i hope me being alive makes you as unhappy as you've made me.
i hope you stay miserable and bitter and hurt for the rest of your life mother

- wooyoung
you deserve nothing less.

Instantly, his phone became bombarded with angry texts from the woman who gave birth to him, but he ignored all of them. He blocked her seconds later.

The water sloshed rapidly below, beckoning to him.

"Not today," Wooyoung muttered, putting more space between him and the cliff. He breathed in and out, looking at the night sky. By now, most of the stars had gone, save for a couple that shone like jewels in the dark.

Wooyoung smiled. "Guess you guys are all I have now, huh?"

They didn't answer back, of course, but it was okay. Their presence was the reassurance he needed.

He wasn't alone.

As Wooyoung enters his past neighbourhood, hands hidden inside his pockets, the memories of the past resurface. And it's annoying, because it's certainly not something he wants to think about this afternoon.

The street's the same; empty and desolate around this time of day, the vibrant orange sky shining down on the area.

It's a bit nostalgic in a sense, although it hasn't been that long since he left. The trees lined by the bus stop, the stretch of grass where Mrs Lee used to sell lemonade before she moved out, the rundown basketball court down to the east which was made into a camping spot for the kids after they were done with school. Everywhere Wooyoung looked was a past memory unlocked; a glimpse into the life he used to have.

Though he'd never engaged much with the people here, he could remember the faces of every single one of them, a sentence in his story.

When Wooyoung comes across his old house, he can't help but stare at it for a while, wondering if someone new was now inhabiting it. He hopes they aren't; his landlady had been downright terrible to work with, and the place was pure shit on top of that.

Tearing his eyes off the residential building, Wooyoung ambles towards the house closest to it, heart in his throat.

Will he be home at this hour? Wooyoung thinks. He chews on his bottom lip, so fucking nervous for no reason.

Trampling over the thoughts that make him want to back out of this whole thing, he presses on the doorbell, quickly recoiling as if he'd been bitten by it afterwards.

"Stop freaking out," he mumbles, but can't stop himself from worrying when he doesn't hear a response. He contemplates pressing the doorbell again, and he's about to do so when the door abruptly swings open, shocking him.

And, because Wooyoung's nothing but a huge idiot, he stumbles on something, and then he loses his footing, about to land on the ground and embarrass himself further.

An arm reaches out and grabs his elbow, spinning him until his head hits a chest. He winces at the force, so fucking disoriented.

"Oops! I'm so sorry!" A voice comments, deep and notably surprised. "Are you okay?"

Wooyoung nods, inhaling a whiff of fruit and...cookies. "Yeah. Yeah -- I'm fine."

"Sorry for holding you so roughly." He gets let go. "I didn't want you falling. Those steps can be brutal to someone's butt."

Despite himself, Wooyoung has to laugh. Lungs feeling like they've been bent in half, he positions himself against the porch, trying to regain his breath. He coughs. Fuck. "It's...it's okay."

"I seriously didn't expect I'd see you here today."

Wooyoung looks up, and there stands Yeosang. He doesn't look that much different, but his caramel shaded hair's been pulled back by a hair band, a smudge of what appears to be flour on his cheek.

"Um, sorry about that. I just -- I don't know -- felt like visiting you today...?" When Wooyoung meets chocolate brown eyes, he hurriedly looks away and clears his throat. "I can leave if you're busy."

Yeosang smiles as if the shorter hasn't blown him off for over two months; as if Wooyoung hasn't ignored him from the moment they met, really. "No, I'm not busy. I mean -- I kinda am, but not too busy that we can't talk." He chuckles at his words, gesturing at the door. "You can come in if you want."

Now, Wooyoung hadn't anticipated that. The plan was to say hi, converse with Yeosang a bit, and then leave. He knows he doesn't deserve the older's hospitality due to how he's treated him so far, so the man inviting him into his abode sort of stuns him.

"I can?" He mirrors, wanting to slap himself for how dumb he sounds.

"Yeah," Yeosang nods, grinning at Wooyoung's stupefied expression. "Do you have anything else planned for tonight?"

The question stops Wooyoung in his tracks. It's been a crazy three weeks into January, with him having to navigate through his monotonous classes once more, as well as having to deal with San's increasing absence. The older heads to Choi's Highlight early every morning, and barely has the time to interact with him before sleep or tiredness takes over. Of course, Wooyoung treasures every time spent with San dozing off in his arms, but seeing the man so busy and unavailable's doing something terrible to his self-esteem, no matter how much he tries to pretend it doesn't.

Wooyoung shakes his head. "No. Not really?"

Yeosang stares at him like he can see right through him. "How's everything? Like, your work and stuff."

"Work?"

"Yeah," Yeosang dusts off the light flour on his shirt. "You got a new job right? That's why you had to move?"

"Oh -- " Wooyoung blinks, flabbergasted as to how the taller knows that about him. "Yeah. Yeah, I got a new job. It's...very nice."

"That's good to hear," Yeosang replies. Now that Wooyoung looks closer, he can spot the pinkish mark adorning the left side of the guy's face, right below the eye. It's clearly a birthmark, and it's something Yeosang doesn't seem ashamed of in the slightest, considering he hasn't done anything to cover it.

"Oh, you noticed Glove?"

"What?" Wooyoung blurts. He finds Yeosang's eyes, and they're warm under the gradually setting sunlight, as golden as his hair colour. He averts his stare, a bit unnerved at how picturesque Yeosang is; like a celestial being gracing his lowly self. What a stupid analogy.

"I call my birthmark 'glove'," Yeosang states as if it's a totally normal thing to do. "'Cause it looks like a glove with its thumb down. See?" He raises his hand and copies the mark's shape, and holy shit, Wooyoung does see it.

"It really looks like a glove."

"I know right?" Yeosang laughs. He opens the door wider. "I'm making dinner. Luckily, I think there's enough pot roast for the both of us."

As if on cue, the savory smell wafts out of the doorway. Yeosang's eyes flit over to Wooyoung's face, suggestive.

"Is that okay?" Wooyoung asks, licking his lips. He had no idea the other male could cook so well. "I mean, I thought you were making cookies."

"I am," Yeosang grins, waving him off. "They're for dessert."

"Oh." Wooyoung allows Yeosang to lead him inside, and in an instant he's faced with appetizing smells from every corner. His stomach grumbles at the hot plate of cookies sitting on the kitchen's countertop, but fortunately it isn't loud enough for Yeosang to hear.

"You can have a seat at the table," Yeosang's saying. As soon as his back is turned to Wooyoung, the man pats his tummy and tells it to shut up. "I'll finish up the food and go change into a more appropriate attire."

"I can help you with it," Wooyoung suggests. He can't help but observe the interior of the older's house. It's small, just like most apartments in this area, but it's comforting and cozy, similar to the freshly baked cookies in the kitchen. Unlike his previous house with its minimal furniture and chipped walls, Yeosang's feels like a home, enraptured with soft twinkling lights, neutral toned furnishings and walls a soothing buttermilk. It's nice.

"There's no need, Wooyoung," Yeosang refuses his offer, but he looks ecstatic that the younger bothered to ask. "You're my guest, after all, even though it was a bit sudden."

"Sorry."

"It's fine," Yeosang adds with a chuckle. "I'm just really glad you decided to come over. Here." To Wooyoung's shock, Yeosang hands him the tv remote. "Watch whatever you wanna watch while dinner's getting ready."

Wooyoung's mouth opens and closes with nothing coming out. He can't believe this is happening. Doesn't know why Yeosang's so nice to him despite him being so standoffish to the other. "Are -- are you serious?"

"Yes." Yeosang shrugs. "Do whatever you want. Well, with discretion, of course."

Wooyoung watches as Yeosang dashes into the kitchen, a skip to his step as he attends to the pots on the stove. What is happening?

He glances at the remote in his hand, and figures it won't hurt if he gives it a shot.

He ends up getting immersed in the Outerbanks series on Netflix, and when Yeosang eventually shows up with the food and drinks, taking the seat beside him, they watch it together, making commentary on it every once in a while.

"Why do the high schoolers always look like they're reaching thirty?" Yeosang contemplates out loud by the time they play episode five.

Wooyoung nearly chokes on his shot glass of citrus-flavoured soju, but shrugs nonetheless. "I dunno." He ushers out a soft thanks when Yeosang refills it for him, also adding another slice of beef onto his plate.

They watch in silence once more, but when the episode ends, Wooyoung doesn't make a move to start the next one. It attracts the older's attention.

"Wooyoung?"

"I think I'm forgetting something..." Wooyoung grumbles, fumbling for his phone, wherever it is. "It looks pretty dark out."

"Did you come here on bus?"

"Why? You wanna take me home?" Wooyoung questions, patting his clothes for the darned device. "Where is it? Sannie just got it for me, what the hell?"

"Sannie?" Yeosang asks, voice startling Wooyoung. The man doesn't sound baffled or astonished, however.

"Nothing." Wooyoung swallows down the rest of the soju, its sharp heat flushing his throat and chest. "It's nothing."

Yeosang laughs, low and stable. "It's Choi San, right?"

Wooyoung blinks repeatedly. "...What?"

The brown haired man leans closer, something like nervousness flashing in his eyes. "Listen, I... I know Kim Hongjoong and -- "

Wooyoung's coat buzzes as if it's been electrocuted. He feels the pockets before pulling the phone out. The lockscreen's full of messages from San, piling and piling on top of San's face (since he's the one who put his picture there anyway). Heat crawls over his cheeks when he spots Yeosang looking at it.

"Shit." Unlocking the phone with his clumsy thumbs, Wooyoung doesn't even have the time to properly read the messages because San's caller ID lights the screen right then. "Fuck."

"What's the matter?" Yeosang asks, his steady voice calming some of Wooyoung's nerves. "He doesn't know you're here?"

Wooyoung's too occupied with answering San's call to wonder how Yeosang knows all this, hurriedly pressing the phone to his ears. He stands and looks at the older, a little lightheaded. "Excuse me."

Yeosang nods. "I'll go put the plates in the dishwasher."

"Wooyoung?" San says as soon as Wooyoung leans against the sofa. He sounds worried -- frantic -- as if this is the last opportunity he has to talk to the younger. "Is that you? Or is that someone else?"

"Hey, Sannie, it's me." Wooyoung rubs his neck. "Sorry for not responding to your texts. Didn't realize I left the phone on vibrate."

"I'm so glad you're okay," San answers, inhaling a deep breath. "I came home, and I didn't see you anywhere. I -- I freaked out and -- god, I don't know what came over me."

Wooyoung shakes his head although San can't see him. "Hey, it's alright. I'm fine. Uh," he clears his throat. "I actually met the guy that used to be my neighbour today. He invited me to dinner, and it was nice. Sorry for not letting you know beforehand."

A pause. "Oh." San's tone is unreadable, something different. "Okay. Who is he?"

"Yeosang."

"Oh." Another weird, prolonged pause.

"San, are you okay?"

There's a sound coming from the other line, something close to a car door slamming shut. "I'm fine. Are you done?"

"Well," Wooyoung picks up on Yeosang stepping out of the kitchen area. "I think I am. I'll take the bus and..."

'I can drive you back,' Yeosang mouths.

"Woo?" San asks.

"Yeosang just suggested he'll take me back," Wooyoung replies.

"I'm actually outside."

"What?" Wooyoung's eyes widen, afraid he heard San wrong.

"I'm outside," San repeats. "Please, come out. I'll take you back home."

Wooyoung pushes open the door, the harsh cold hitting him head-on. Light snow shuffles down from the darkened skies, but even with that, Wooyoung can see the black SUV parked just across the road from Yeosang's house. And beside it, donned in a thick, white coat and grey beanie, is San, phone pressed to his ear.

The older sees him before long, face brightened with a wide grin. Wooyoung doesn't know what to feel.

"Oh, he's here," Yeosang says behind him, an amused lilt to his voice. If he notices the way San's smile dims at his presence, he doesn't let it show.

Embers of agitation burn inside Wooyoung as he turns off his phone and puts it back in his coat pocket. "Goodnight, Yeosang," he says, keeping his eyes on San the entire time.

"Night, Wooyoung. We should hang out again sometime," the taller answers, sincere. Wooyoung appreciates it. "I'm happy you showed up."

"We will." Snow grazes his skin as Wooyoung walks over to San, the night breeze sinking into his chest, but it's the look in the older's eyes that makes him shudder.

"Woo..." San touches his hand, but Wooyoung lets it drop.

"What are you doing here?"

San glances over his shoulder at Yeosang's apartment, his body soon relaxing. "We'll talk about it at home."

"San," Wooyoung states, staring into the older's eyes. His mind's racing with a million thoughts, all of them wanting answers. "How did you know I was with Yeosang when I never told you about meeting him? Do you know him?"

San's reply is instant. "I don't."

"Then how'd you find me?"

San's jaw clenches, but his eyes are soft, brimming with guilt. He holds the door to the SUV, avoiding Wooyoung's gaze. "I'll tell you when we get home."

Wooyoung's irritation grows, mixed in with this sort of dread that leaves him nauseous. "...Did you track me down using the phone you bought me?"

San looks down like a dog who's been kicked. "Wooyoung, enter. Please."

Wooyoung can't believe this is happening. "San... Answer me."

"I was worried, okay?" San says. "I was so fucking worried about you. I called, texted, but you never replied. I -- I got scared. It was like you'd disappeared. I didn't want anything happening to you."

Wooyoung swallows down the lump in his throat. "I would've returned eventually. Why would you follow me around without letting me know? Why would you track me?"

"Because I feared you'd leave," San whispers. When Wooyoung looks at him, his nose is pink, eyes bloodshot. He's suddenly brought back to the night on New Year's Eve. "I feared you'd leave me because you got tired of me. And when I located where you were, I... I thought -- "

"You thought I cheated." The words are bitter on Wooyoung's tongue. San's quietness does more harm than good, and he scoffs, so fucking done.

He starts to leave in the opposite direction, but he doesn't make it far before San rushes to him, holding his arm.

"W-Where are you going?" San asks, expression panicked.

"Taking a bus, or something. I'll see you later." It's a miracle how Wooyoung manages to keep his voice leveled.

"Wooyoung, don't do this."

"Why will I ever -- " Wooyoung sucks a sharp breath. "Come on, hyung. Do you even trust me at all? Why would I do that to you?"

"I-I'm sorry."

"Can I take a breather? I'm gonna take a breather. I don't think I can handle going back to your house with you tonight," Wooyoung says. Frustration and anger dwindling into ashes of disappointment, he takes out his phone and smacks it on-top San's trembling palm. "You won't need to track me down this time."

"Wooyoung, please, I'm sorry," San apologizes. "It was getting late and I needed you by my side and -- and I got so afraid. I didn't want to lose you."

"And that's why you decided to put a tracking device on my phone?" Wooyoung stares at the ground, and a sudden realization grapples him. "You got it for me at the start of this month. You were monitoring me since then."

"I wasn't monitoring you -- "

"Then what were you doing, then? I would never do something like that to you, because guess what? I actually trusted you."

"I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, Wooyoung-ah. Forgive me. Please."

Wooyoung stares at the older at that moment, at his glossy, desperate eyes, quivering lips and his broken disposition, and he can't believe he ever thought this person knew what he was doing.

Wooyoung averts his stare, because the more he watches San, the angrier he gets. He feels bad for him. "Go home, and go to bed. You need to be well-rested to function at work."

San pulls him close and kisses him right there, out in the open. Fingers cradling his face, lips eagerly moving against his. They're salty. "D-Don't go. Please don't go."

Wooyoung pushes himself away, relieved no one's around. Still, his heartbeat's thunderous in his head, and he feels faint.

A new emotion's present too. Terror. Wooyoung's terrified; everything's becoming much too unbearable for him.

"Please don't leave."

"I'm not leaving, dammit! What the hell?" Wooyoung exclaims. He feels the way he felt back then on that cliff, like he's losing control of himself and his life. "I'm sorry, but I need some space right now. I'll come back whenever. Go home, hyung."

"Wooyoung -- "

"Go home."

Wooyoung doesn't turn around until San leaves, and then he feels like he's breaking apart. And no matter how much air he inhales, it's like he's stuck underwater, drowning deeper and deeper without a way of escape.

Is he doing the right thing?

* * *

a/n: thoughts?