* * *

《 and what happens when
we fail each other? 》

It wasn't always this hard -- the search for happiness. It wasn't always like this either.

Wooyoung, as a kid, used to laugh a lot. Like, feel really happy. The kind of happy that was so obvious and raw that it lit up your insides with sparks, and as a result it wouldn't have taken long to fizzle it out.

A lot of kids felt that way too, a majority of them unexposed to the cruel ways of the world before...well, society hit them like a truck.

Wooyoung's mother -- long before all the fights and the taunts and the burning hatred for her son and the man she married -- would sometimes hold him close at night and tell him (quite frankly embarrassing) stories of how loud and rambunctious he was as a toddler. He'd scream and run and play-fight for no reason at all, making him downright a hassle for her to deal with at times.

But she loved him, down to his every last flaw. At least, she said she did, until Wooyoung realized she'd been lying.

And as time flew by, Wooyoung would stand in front of the mirror or walk past his old pictures and not even recognize himself, because how could he have smiled so big back then when all he felt inside at that point in time was emptiness?

He'd wake up and wish he fell back asleep. He'd stare at the ceiling and wonder how time seemed to just blur; an infinite loop of hopelessness and nothingness. And it just wouldn't fucking stop, no matter how much he'd wanted it to.

He grew older, number, got more tired. Whenever he experienced some kind of joy, he knew it wouldn't last. The highs got higher, the lows got lower. He stopped seeing the point in smiling, talking, socializing, giving a shit. Stopped seeing the point in anything, really.

And sometimes, Wooyoung wished the world would just halt. Sometimes, opening his eyes and breathing made him want to fucking throw up.

"Everything alright there?"

In the midst of Wooyoung's confusion and tumultuous thoughts, Yeosang's voice shines through. He stops looking at the ground whilst trying to stabilize himself by counting his heartbeat, and looks up at the taller male, who's now rested against his porch, a faint smile on his features.

Wooyoung bites his lip, realizing how parched his mouth is. He manages a stiff nod he isn't sure Yeosang believes. "Y-Yeah. Everything is uhm...fine."

Yeosang crosses the street, and it's then Wooyoung notices the long brown sweater he has on, hood pulled over his head. "Are you taking the bus back to San's?"

Again, Wooyoung wonders how Yeosang knows San's name. Knows he should probably question him about it too, but he isn't thinking clearly and he just needs an outlet to release all the pent-up resentment he's harbouring.

He shrugs. "I don't even know anymore."

"You're not fully sober," Yeosang states. "I'll take you home."

Any other day and Wooyoung would be mad at the older for not minding his own business, but now, he has nothing left to say. He's confused, angry and sad, these three emotions all directed at Choi San because the man decided to betray his trust.

"Okay," he mutters. He allows Yeosang to take him to his car, a dark red honda civic, and then they're on the road, nothing but silence in between them.

It's clear Yeosang has a lot of things he wants to say. He most likely witnessed Wooyoung's and San's argument as well, but he ultimately doesn't, and that's what Wooyoung appreciates the most.

He keeps quiet as Wooyoung stares out the window, wishing he's back to a time when his only worries were getting good grades at school, having friends and wanting his parents to come home on time.

He remembers everything the younger version of him had hoped for growing up. 'By the time you're twenty, you should already have a girlfriend and have a good job, future Jung Wooyoung. That'll be cool'.

Younger him dreamt of having his own car, and late nights with close friends as they cruised under the buzzing, kaleidoscope city lights, arms outstretched and ready to take on the world. He'd be having the perfect college experience, geting drunk and having fun and actually doing something tangible with his fickle, joke of a life. Now that Wooyoung looks back on it, he realizes how pointless and stupid everything is. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Are you okay?" Yeosang asks at a certain point.

No. Wooyoung shrugs again. "I'm fine."

Despite his answer, Yeosang drops them off at a small convenience store and gets him a tub of ice cream although Wooyoung argues against it at first.

"When I'm in a bad mood, or when things just seem downright terrible," Yeosang passes the plastic bag towards the shorter, "I eat some ice cream. Tastes even better during the winter, especially when your emotions are running high."

"Thank you." Wooyoung honestly doesn't know what else to say; Yeosang's repeated kindness is something he seriously never believed he deserved. The tub of caramel apple ice cream on his lap's big enough for more than one person, but he forces himself to not think too much about it.

"No worries, Young-ah," Yeosang laughs. "Wait -- I can call you that, right?"

The lump in Wooyoung's throat increases. "Mhm. Yeah... yeah you can."

Yeosang grins, and Wooyoung feels a little lighter on the inside. The man doesn't speak much for the rest of the ride, giving Wooyoung ample time to sort out his thoughts by taking a few, timid spoons of ice cream.

He turns rigid at the sugary sweet taste, because it reminds him of San. San and his brilliant smiles, his gentle, kind words, his comforting presence. No one else has ever made him feel so loved before; no one's ever made him this happy. And that's why this hurts him, and that's why he can't keep himself together as his eyes overflow with tears, hiccuping into his spoonful of ice cream like a hot mess.

"You okay?" Yeosang casts him a worried glance, but soon focuses his gaze back to the dim roads, which Wooyoung's grateful for.

Wooyoung hastily wipes off the moisture gathered around his eyes. "I'm okay. Thanks."

Nothing else is said, but Yeosang watches him from time to time, as if Wooyoung's going to blow up if he just so happens to stop paying him attention. Obviously, Wooyoung can't stand it, and when the older man finally parks in front of his destination, he's all too eager to escape from his concerned stares.

"Hey -- " Yeosang begins just as Wooyoung opens the car door to step out. When the younger turns to look at him, he adds, "I don't know what's going on, but if things are too complicated to sort out right now, sleep on it. It's better, I feel like."

The man's words make Wooyoung feel like he does know something, but he's far too exhausted to try and figure what that is right now. Instead, he gives a curt nod. "...Okay."

It's much colder outside now than before, but Wooyoung barely pays attention to the ice crushing his chest and the snow tickling his face as he slips into the gate leading to San's home with little problems, each step weighing a ton. For a second, he wants to run back out into the night, but he knows that'll be a dumb decision to make. He'll freaking freeze to death, and although that doesn't sound like a bad way to go, he really isn't that fond of the cold.

Wooyoung's sober enough to walk without feeling moments away from tripping on literal air. He even thinks he'll make it past the doors to the house unannounced and hopefully sleep tonight off like it's nothing but a bad dream, but when has he ever been that lucky?

"Wooyoung?" It's San, standing in front of the closed doors, a large, star shaped plushie clutched in his arms. He hasn't noticed Wooyoung yet, judging by the way his head keeps swiveling in every direction, eyes wide and hopeful. "Are you there?"

Wooyoung exhales, guilt pushing out all the excess irritation he's currently feeling towards the older. Him and Yeosang hadn't spent a lot of time driving around, but it's still a considerable amount. Just how long did San wait outside for him?

"San," he says, making himself known.

"Wooyoung!" San cries out, racing towards him in no time and flinging his arms over his shoulders. Fortunately, Wooyoung moves the ice cream away on time before it has the chance to land on the ground. "W-Wooyoung..."

"I'm here." The words are like rubber on Wooyoung's tongue, synthetic. "See? I came back."

San's body is icy, littered with goosebumps, but he stays still in the younger's arms, unwilling to let go. "I'm so sorry for what I did. I -- I deleted it. I deleted it all. I promise you I'll never do it again."

"It's okay," Wooyoung bites the inside of his cheek. "You're really cold. How long did you stand there?"

San pulls back, revealing reddened eyes and cheeks. Wooyoung rubs the coldness off his palm and carefully rids the older of his tears. "E-Ever since I arrived back."

His dark hair's askew, pyjama top not even buttoned properly. Wooyoung feels bad.

"Let's go inside, hm? Before we turn to snow," he attempts a joke, but San doesn't smile; only keeps looking at him as if he'll vanish forever any second from now. It knocks out all the air from his lungs, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering to life.

"I got ice cream," he mentions as a way to distract himself from the heat crawling up his neck, deciding to leave Yeosang's name out of the equation.

"Ice cream?" San stares at the tub like he's just seeing it for the first time tonight, but the want in his eyes is clear. "Is it for the both of us?"

"If you want, yeah. Have you eaten?" Wooyoung continues, handing San the ice cream.

"Lunch," San's reply is quick.

"Shit," Wooyoung swears. "I'll make you something then. You need food."

He reaches for the ice cream, only for San to step away at the last moment, preventing him from taking it. "Nuh-uh. I'm good with ice cream."

"San, you can't eat -- "

But San's already inhaling spoonfuls of the caramel apple ice cream, the look of a child on a sugar high prevalent in his eyes. Wooyoung knows he should stop him, but he doesn't want to. Not when the older looks so adorable and loveable like this, dissipating every last bit of his anger.

"You'll get brain freeze..." Wooyoung mumbles, but he knows he's already lost. He pats San's hair, smoothing down the unruly locks, whilst San rests his head on his chest. "How do you expect me to stay mad at you when you keep being so cute, huh?"

"I'm sorry," San apologizes again.

"It's okay." Wooyoung doesn't want to talk about it -- at least not right now, soon leading the both of them inside before they actually freeze to death.

They don't talk much, with Wooyoung fixing up San's clothes and sitting with him as he finishes up the entire tub of ice cream. It's at these moments Wooyoung feels like an actual babysitter, and it ruins his thought process because he's then reminded of the reason he came here in the first place.

Choi San will quickly fall hard for you, and he'll fall out of love just as easily.

"I'm so happy you came back," San says, looking up from the now empty ice cream tub. There's a bit of it on his upper lip, a soft white against the roseate pink of his skin. Wooyoung's heart skips a beat. "I...I thought you wouldn't turn up tonight."

Wooyoung's heart further breaks apart. "Why would you need to think that way..." he brushes off the frothy topping with his thumb, soon pushing said finger into his mouth, "when I like you too much to begin with?"

San's eyes grow comically wide, ears stop sign red. "Really?"

"You seem to forget that I'm your boyfriend, hyung." Wooyoung loses his cool composure too at the word, a sneaky blush dusting over his cheeks.

"You're my boyfriend," San repeats, sounding quite dazed. He peers up at Wooyoung, lips pulling into a cute little pout. "Can I hug you?"

Wooyoung nods, breaking into a series of chuckles when San throws himself over him, arms snug around his waist and socked legs curling into him. The man's close proximity and joyous smiles warm Wooyoung inside out, and make him almost want to forget what he did earlier tonight.

"I want you to stay," San whispers, head buried in the crook of his neck. "Please don't leave."

"I won't leave."

San hugs him tighter, which gains Wooyoung's attention. "N-No. You'd have to leave when you're done with this job. He said so."

Wooyoung blinks. "What?" He says, but San just shakes his head. "Who said that?"

"He'd told me you'd have to leave soon. Yunnie did," San's eyes clench shut as if the mere thought of it's something he can't bear. "He -- he said you'll want to leave soon and that it's only a matter of time before you find another job somewhere else. He told me you don't actually like me."

Wooyoung's heart lurches in his chest, threatening to tear it open. Sheer panic and shock infiltrate his veins at what San just said, and for a moment, he stays quiet, too stunned to say anything.

"I..." He sounds so small, so unlike himself it's frightening. "That's not true."

"Don't leave me, Wooyoung."

"I won't," Wooyoung presses. "Why do you believe him over me, the actual guy you're dating?"

"I'm so sorry Youngie," San sniffs. "I didn't mean to upset you. I got excited and told Yunnie about us, thinking he was going to be fine with it. His words really hurt me."

"Don't listen to him," Wooyoung says, but it's difficult to believe himself when he's not even confident in his own words.

"I'm sorry I told you."

"It's fine." But a part of Wooyoung wishes San never said anything on the matter. He wishes he was back to being oblivious; that way he would know nothing of what Yunho's true feelings are towards him.

"You'll stay, right?" San asks, the desperation in his tone worsening Wooyoung's wounds.

"I will."

"You can live with me," San continues. "Stay in the same house as we've been doing all this time. You won't have to get another job or worry about money ever again. I'll take care of you and make you happy."

'If things are too complicated to sort out right now, sleep on it,' Yeosang's words echo in Wooyoung's head right then, a healing balm that soothes some of his anxiety.

"We should go to sleep. It's late."

San looks reluctant for a bit, but soon nods. "Together? None of my plushies are as warm and as cuddly as you."

Wooyoung feels like he's swallowed sandpaper. "Of course."

San doesn't sleep much for the night, restless and lucid for the most part. But it's not because he's in a terrible mood or has nightmares; he just doesn't fall asleep. He talks a lot, holding Wooyoung and acting so physically affectionate like he can't let him out of his sight, and Wooyoung does the listening even when tiredness weighs on the corners of his eyes and dreamland's just around the corner.

And Wooyoung sort of likes it. He likes the closeness and the intimacy, especially after being deprived of it for weeks due to school and San being so busy with CEO things. But a part of him oftentimes wondered if something was up, considering what San told him about Yunho earlier.

He ignores it though; it's something he's been particularly good at from the start. He doesn't want to ask San more on the matter and risk having his smile and laughter wiped off. He just doesn't want to think about it.

And when San leans in and kisses him from time to time, he reciprocates it with as much passion and vigour, just as afraid to lose San as San's afraid to lose him. He kisses him like his life depends on it, like nothing else matters but the older, like his self-doubt and misery aren't already eating him alive.

It doesn't matter that he doesn't get a lot of sleep that night, not when being in San's embrace is more than worth it.

* * *

Wooyoung's in a blisteringly hot beach with dazzling blue skies next to a shirtless, tanned and lotioned San. He's a little annoyed at the scorching heat as he adjusts himself on the beach chair he's seated on, which San quickly notices.

"What's wrong, love?" San asks in this weird Aussie accent that doesn't sound as weird.

"This place sucks," Wooyoung states, pulling down his floppy hat over his head. "I'm totally frying up."

"That's all in your imagination, love," San answers with a smirk that makes Wooyoung's skin hotter. He reaches over and passes Wooyoung the biggest piña colada he has ever seen, his biceps bulging as he does so. "Here, drink this. It's tasty."

Wooyoung does, sighing in satisfaction at the cold taste of the drink.

San pokes his cheek. "Aww, cute. Don't drink too much though, you'll turn your brain into an ice block."

Wooyoung doesn't listen, slurping more of the pineapple-coconut flavoured drink until more than half of it's gone down his throat.

San pokes him again. And again. And again.

Wooyoung glares at the man. "What?"

San pokes him.

"San!"

The man begins singing the second verse of Despacito.

Wooyoung's eyes open, ready to snap when his vision of oiled-up, smirking San dissipates into a much less exposed San, and this time he's softly smiling, fully clothed with his phone in hand, Despacito playing from its speakers.

Heat floods Wooyoung's face, both at the dream he just had and how San decided to wake him up.

"Good morning," the man greets, cranking the volume all the way up.

"Fuck off." He groans out loud when San giggles, turning and burying himself further into the bed's fluffy covers.

"You know it's Friday, right?" San says, voice sounding a lot closer than before.

"And you know you should turn that fucking phone down," Wooyoung answers, his tone clipped. For a moment, he fears he sounds too harsh, but San just laughs at his outburst, finally listening to him.

"You okay?" San questions, and then he's suddenly on top of him, straddling his hips. Wooyoung chokes on nothing, feeling like he can't breathe. "If not, I can give you a massage..."

"It's -- it's okay," Wooyoung forces out, body stiffening when San's hands feel up his back, fingers digging into his muscles. "It's just -- sometimes I wake up and I get cranky for no reason."

San's thumbs dip into his shoulders, swirling over the skin. "So many knots... Are you ninety or what?"

Ignoring how adorably high-pitched San's voice sounds, Wooyoung attempts smacking him, only for his arm to flail wildly with no success as his face's pressed against the bed and he can't really see anything.

San laughs, airy and melodic. "Now you're trying to summon a demon."

Wooyoung flushes. "Shut up. I need to get ready for school."

"Not when Daddy San's around, you don't."

Wooyoung inhales a sharp breath, eyes enlarging. "Never say that again."

San's laughter is full, resurrecting the butterflies in Wooyoung's stomach. "What? Daddy San?"

"Stop it right now." Wooyoung makes a move to sit up, but San holds him down. "Hyung."

"I'm not done yet," the older man says. Wooyoung practically feels his limbs melt into a puddle the second San starts working on loosening his joints, and okay, it feels kind of amazing.

"We should go out today," San tells him, hands currently kneading into his waist. "Like, I don't feel like going to work and it won't hurt if you skip a day, right?"

Wooyoung blinks repeatedly to try and clear his thoughts. "What...what do you mean? You need to go do your CEO duties. Isn't that the point of being, well, a CEO? And, you miss a day of Professor Jung's shitty classes, you miss a whole seminar's worth of notes."

San slows down, and the difference is immediate. Wooyoung suddenly doesn't feel as relaxed anymore. "So you don't want to hang out with me."

"No -- " Wooyoung whips his head to face San, alarm searing through him. "I -- That isn't what I mean. I just -- "

"Just what?" San interrupts. His brows are wrinkled, frown pulling at his lips. It's a look Wooyoung's never seen on him before, and it makes him anxious. "Why don't you want to spend today with me?"

"I do want to spend today with you, of course I do," Wooyoung replies, his panic rising when San's frown worsens. "But you can't afford to miss work -- "

"I seriously couldn't care less about that right now. I just want to be with you, and here you are, making excuses -- "

"I'm not making excuses -- "

"Yes you are."

"Stop cutting me off," Wooyoung snaps. It's extremely terrifying how easily he and San went from joking around to almost fighting, and it's something he can't deal with. Not right now, not ever. "You're acting as if this is the only time we'll ever get to be together. There's always tomorrow, always Sunday. Or any other time we're both free."

San lets him go, sliding off of him. "I guess I care more about you than you do for me."

Wooyoung can't believe what he's hearing, too frustrated to think straight. "Is that why you put a tracking device on my phone?"

"Fuck you, Wooyoung. You're always so goddamn mean to me." San's hands curl into tight fists, shaking uncontrollably. His voice is hushed and heavy, painful. "I missed you. I miss you. I miss us, miss when we hung out and laughed and had fun together without anything coming in between that. I miss when you'd come home and hold me and smile at me and look at me like I was the only person that mattered. I miss everything. I can't fucking function when I'm over there, reading through spreadsheets and emails and enduring meetings without you by my side. It's gotten to the point when I just fucking want you there. I need you there. I need you with me."

"San..." Wooyoung whispers, but San's already left the bed, grabbing the prazosin bottle on the nightstand and heading for the door. "San, wait -- "

The door slams, and Wooyoung's heart falls.

He knows he should leave, go look for San, but he's can't. He's stuck there, unable to move while his brain ventures into darker places, his thoughts the usual spiel about how worthless he is, how much he fucks shit up and how he doesn't deserve someone like San. It's nothing he isn't already used to, but it still messes with him.

He gets tired of it quick.

"San?" Wooyoung calls out as he pulls open the door. Tears sting the back of his eyes, but he blinks them away before they can leave. "Hyung? Please, where are you?"

He feels stupid and pathetic like he's his emotional fifteen year old self again, thinking his body was the most disgusting thing ever. "San..."

Wooyoung passes the kitchen, disappointed when he doesn't see the older there. He continues to look for him, checking every open space until he realizes the man may be upstairs.

He makes it to the top on record speed and keeps moving, not even stopping to catch his breath.

Then he comes across the first bathroom.

He pushes open the door, San's name on his tongue when he spots the man crouched on the tiles, hand clamped over his mouth like he's swallowing something. Beside him is the bottle of medication, unscrewed with all its contents displayed.

San notices him and jumps, eyes as wide as saucers. He grabs the container, hands wrapped around it in a vice-like grip.

"San," Wooyoung steps in, and San backs up against the wall. "What are you doing?"

San doesn't reply. But he doesn't need to, because when Wooyoung's eyes land on the bottle again, something clicks.

"...San," He begins, and honestly, with how erratic his heart's beating, it's a surprise how firm his voice is. "...Why are the pills yellow?"

San's jaw hardens, but he stares at the floor, hiding the container behind him. "I don't know what you're talking about," he states, his words slow and childlike, and Wooyoung wants to fucking hit himself for not figuring it out sooner. San's abrupt talkativeness, how restless and fidgety he was leading to this morning were all the clues, and he'd missed them all.

"Prazosin pills are entirely different colours," Wooyoung says. "They aren't yellow, for crying out loud. Why do you have different pills inside the bottle?"

"They're not different pills!" San exclaims, trying to push past him. Wooyoung is faster, though, snatching the bottle out of the older's grasp. "Give it back!"

"Not until you tell me what these drugs are, San." Wooyoung bites back. The hollowness squeezing his chest clambers up his throat and threatens to escape through his eyes and down his cheeks. "Tell me."

San attempts taking it back, but fails. "Wooyoung, hand it over."

"What are they, San?" Wooyoung feels like he's suffocating. "And -- and how long have you been taking them?"

San's bottom lip wobbles and he crumbles in on himself, all the fight in him leaving. "D-Diazepam," he stutters. "A-And...two weeks ago."

"I'm telling Hongjoong hyung."

"No you can't!" San's sobbing now, his face streaked with tears. "Y-You can't tell him anything. He'll get mad, and I don't fucking want that. P-Please."

"You're taking drugs you weren't prescribed," Wooyoung says. Fear and shock and disappointment build up inside him, forming a nauseating mixture of emotions that make him feel faint. "Fuck, San. Why? Why the hell would you do this?"

"I'm tired!" San hisses. "I'm so fucking tired and sick of everything. I'm sad and I'm fucking miserable and I don't want that. I don't want it. I just want you and I want to be my best self for you, and I just -- I wanted to feel okay again and I fucked up. I'm a mess."

Wooyoung's heart hurts, but he bites his lip to keep that kind of pain at bay, guiding San to him. The older's quick to hug him like it's his last chance to, whilst Wooyoung stares at the ceiling, counting every single breath he inhales.

He's overwhelmed. He's overwhelmed and devastated and just wants to wake up and discover that this is all a bad dream. But it isn't. San's abusing drugs to feel fine and leaning on him for support, and Wooyoung feels nothing but pressured to say and do the right thing.

And he can't take it. He's human, not some all-knowing god that can fix everything.

"If..." He exhales, "if you stop them now, will they do anything to you?"

"I don't wanna stop them," San mumbles on his shoulder. "Makes me feel alright..."

"San, what the hell? They can kill you -- "

"It's not my first time using them. I'll be fine."

"You can't fucking do this to me!" Wooyoung yells, startling San. He never meant to raise his voice that way, but fuck, he doesn't give a shit. "You can't expect me to sit here and have you take drugs as if they're water. You know how much I like you -- how deeply you make me feel, and now you're here putting me through this kind of torture. It's not fair. It's not fair at all."

"I'm sorry, Woo," San sniffs, stroking the younger's hair. "I'm sorry I made you mad at me."

"You're not fucking taking them again, you hear me?" Wooyoung orders. San makes a sound of protest when he flushes the rest of the pills down the toilet, but soon accepts it.

"Fine. Whatever." San's tone is cold, odd. Wooyoung decides not to comment on it.

"I'll spend time with you today," is what he adds, hoping San's mood will elevate as a result. "We'll do whatever you want. I won't tell Hongjoong hyung anything."

Wooyoung's relieved when San grins. "Okay."

* * *

a/n: thoughts?