hiraeth | woosan

you

San believes he will never get used to the emptiness he feels when he steps into his apartment. It's not huge. It's exactly what a nursery teacher and an average office worker can manage to get. But it seems to be endlessly barren and miserable without the other here.

He walks in the kitchen, dropping his bag on the counter. One of the reasons San and Wooyoung have chosen this place within the affordable range, was because they had a comparatively large kitchen.

"Healthy cohabitation begins with a healthy diet!"

Wooyoung used to say. He loved cooking, and he'd be furious when San would skip eating or would just resolve with ramen when he wasn't around. On rare occasions, San would attempt cooking with Wooyoung. He was more of a drag than a help really, with how Wooyoung had to watch out for him chopping his finger off instead of onions, and when he'd burn food while all he had to do was count the minutes.

"God, San, you suck at cooking," Wooyoung mocks, but his voice carries merriment. "But why do I love cooking with you?"

Over the dinner table, Wooyoung takes the meat San had burnt despite his opposition, eats, and smiles. "You know what the best kind of food in the world is?"

San shrugs. "French?"

Wooyoung shakes his head. "It's this. The best kind of food in the world is not cooked by the three star michelin chef or by yourself, but by your loved one. You get it right?"

He doesn't. Because every food Wooyoung cooks for him is delightful, but San's char-marinated meat can never be that.

San isn't hungry. He's never really been, since that day. But he promised Yeosang that he'd eat. So he settles with what he has been used to by now; boiling water, pouring it in a cup, waiting for three minutes, and downing the noodles.

He takes a quick shower. He grabs the top towel on the rack and ruffles his hair. It has a cat paw print on, and he remembers the first time he's used it.

"A cat."

"Yup, and mine has a dog paw. Cute right?"

San chuckles, and continues ruffling Wooyoung's hair dry, with the said dog towel. Wooyoung brushes back in return, but he suddenly pulls the hem of the towel on San's head and leans in.

"What?" It's tickling when Wooyoung sniffs San's wet hair.

"I like how you smell."

"You smell the same you know," San says. "We use the same shampoo."

Wooyoung smiles. Brightly. The one that always lights up San's world.

"I like how we smell the same."

And now he is the only one.

He doesn't have to switch the light on to know where exactly the bed lies. The double-size mattress, too spacious for one person, hugs San, who occupies the left, gently and softly. He sinks. San was never a fan of soft mattresses. He liked his bed a little firm, one that resists his weight and doesn't wrap him around. Still, humans have revolved by adapting. Having slept on this bed for a year, he is drawn to the dark rather easily, emptiness slowly swallowing him.

"But I can't sleep when the mattress is soft."

"The hell? The only mattress acceptable in our household is the soft, mushy one!" Wooyoung huffs, and San almost wants to smile at how adorable he is.

"But...when it's too soft, how do we 'sleep' then?"

"What do you mea...oh, damn you pervert." Wooyoung scoffs, punching San's shoulder.

San finally lets out a giggle.

"Only for you, Wooyoung."

"Only

for

you."

"Good night, Sannie."