A Patchwork Story |Woosan|

3

Over the first year, they bickered a lot, but it never got as bad as it did the week following the Wonderland release. There was one particular instance that San would never forget.

He couldn't even remember what the initial argument was about. It was probably something stupid, like San picking out of Wooyoung's food in the fridge or something dumb he said. But nonetheless, he had done something, and then it spiraled, and it spiraled, and then Wooyoung was shouting and San was shouting back, and it seemed like it would never end.

San didn't know he could get as angry as he was during that argument. When he was with Wooyoung, it was so easy to get caught up in his emotions, whether it be happiness, or love, or grief, or at that moment: frustration.

Why did it seem like he could never do anything right when it came to Wooyoung? It was like San was always stepping on eggshells around him. The smallest thing set Wooyoung off nowadays. How did he fall in love with such a little ball of fury? Wooyoung said the harshest words, and then San, as much as he hated to admit, returned with his own.

He never meant it, but that didn't matter, because by saying it, he made it real.

But that day, on their worst argument to date, it was Wooyoung who had the last word.

When Wooyoung had enough of the yelling, he commonly ended it with a simple line, and it was enough for San to deflate along with it. And then a few hours later, they'd go back to normal again with a hug.

Except then, instead of saying his usual "I don't want to see you today," Wooyoung looked him in the eye, and said, "I don't want to see you ever again."

And that one hurt. It hurt a lot. San was still figuring out his feelings at that time, and, well...

San's expression must have changed because regret flashed immediately on Wooyoung's face. It was just... too much to hear, then, and with all the frustration and love and heartbreak spilling over, his lip quivered, and he tried his best to hold in the tears pricking at his eyes.

"San-ah—"

"No." They could talk about it later. San wasn't going to let Wooyoung see him cry over such a stupid argument. "I won't be at dinner. Let's sort this out tomorrow."

Wooyoung reached out to grab him, lips parted with more liquid fire, but San was already turning away, swaying to reorient himself in his surroundings. They were in the common area of the dorms. No one else was home but them.

He closed himself in his room, trying his best to forget Wooyoung's clenched fists and narrowed eyes. It felt suddenly too quiet in his room. In the dorms. But he needed the quiet. He needed to think.

Why do I love him so much?

He'd ever get a good answer to that.

That evening, Hongjoong came to check up on him with a plate of food. He asked questions about what happened between him and Wooyoung, but San clearly didn't want to talk about it. He just needed one night's sleep to forget and reset for tomorrow. They had a heavy schedule coming up, full of music shows and public appearances. He needed to be in the right mindset before the day ended.

I don't want to see you ever again.

It was just a fight. Wooyoung definitely didn't mean it. Of course, he didn't.

San held back the tears, a silent protest against Wooyoung's temper. He wouldn't cry over something like this. Something so... so pathetic. He got ready for the night in a daze, hoping it'll all fade in the morning. And when it was time to fall asleep, he dully noted Yunho's absence in the room, hugging his pillow tighter than usual before drifting off.

.

.

San woke with familiar arms wrapped around his torso and stifled sobs at his back. He blinked groggily at the wall, dragging his mind from the fog of sleep. It was still dark in the room, so it was either very late at night or criminally early in the morning.

The body behind him jolted with a hiccup, fingers clenched in San's shirt in a vice grip.

Still bleary, San tugged at the arms around him and tried to turn himself around. The other made it difficult, his face buried against San's back, but eventually, San found himself face to face with Wooyoung. A sad Wooyoung.

"What happened?" San's voice was rough, but it wasn't nearly as rough as Wooyoung's face, then. San rushed to wipe Wooyoung's tears, but it seemed to make him cry even more.

Wooyoung wrapped around him again in another vice grip, his face pushed up against San's chest and leaving San to stare off into the darkness.

"Nightmare."

Ah.

San should be mad. He should be seething at Wooyoung's weird mixed signals. One day, Wooyoung wants to wipe San out of his life, and the next—not even—he's clutching onto him like San really was going to disappear before his eyes.

And San was mad. He was still upset. But that wasn't important right now. Not with Wooyoung breaking down in his arms. He would put everything aside if Wooyoung needed him to. It was unhealthy. Twisted, almost, but he was learning that that was what love does to you.

San took deep breaths, rubbing circles onto Wooyoung's back, soft nothings of "you're safe" and "just a dream" spilling from his lips. He didn't know how to do this. Wooyoung had never come to him for nightmares. No one had ever come to him for nightmares.

It was so warm, and San's heart lurched at every whimper and whine. The front of his shirt grew damp, and if he didn't already know he was in love, he sure did then because god, the pang in his chest wouldn't go away.

He must have done something right, as Wooyoung's breathing evened out, and his sobs reduced to occasional sniffles. When the alarms bells stopped screeching in San's mind, a new sick curiosity reared its head, a longing to know just what made Wooyoung crack this hard, and then-

"I don't want to talk about it."

Well. San guessed he'd never know.

.

The next day brought a soft sunrise, light streaming in through the window. San woke to pretty pink pastels and a pretty Wooyoung in his bed. They were definitely going to be late to their schedules, but the members must have known they had had a rough night and didn't wake them. San indulged himself in the quiet calm before Wooyoung stirred beside him.

The first thing out of Wooyoung's mouth was "I'm sorry." The words were slightly slurred, and his eyes weren't even fully open yet. He looked like he spent the night crying, and to be fair, he did.

San gave him a small smile and brushed his hair out his face, hoping Wooyoung was too groggy to notice how tender the touch was. "You don't have to apologize. I'm always here when you need me."

It took a moment, but then Wooyoung frowned and said, "Thank you. But I wasn't talking about that." He paused, looking up at San, waiting for it to register. "We fought."

"Yeah. We did-"

"Let's not fight anymore. Not for stupid, small things that don't matter," Wooyoung said. The words came fast, like he'd been holding them in for a long time. "Please."

San blinked, and he knew it was easier said than done. They butted heads on practically everything, but he nodded, smiled, and said he'd try his best. And he would.

Everything grew quiet, then. They had been close all night, but now, in the faded light, San could see just how little space there was between them. He could pick out Wooyoung's little moles, the crease of San's shirt imprinted on his cheek, his pretty mouth, his wide eyes..

Wooyoung seemed to be searching for something, brows risen high and an odd emotion crumpling his expression. Ever so slowly, his gaze flicked across San's face, and his hands curled into fists in San's clothes.

The sudden scrutiny threw San off, and he could do nothing but stare back and try to slow the beating of his heart.

Then, before San could break the silence, Wooyoung kissed his cheek and hugged him tighter, and in the quiet of the morning, San heard him mumble, "fuck," and again, almost like an afterthought, "I'm sorry."