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San sits at the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.
Wooyoung sits behind him against the headboard, knees tugged up to his chest, the way he always sits when his back is hurting.
"Are you okay?" Wooyoung asks after more than a minute of silence.
San huffs a self-deprecating laugh.
"Think I should be asking you that, Woo," he says, rubbing his hands together and letting his upper body fall to rest over his thighs, hands touching the wood floor.
"I'm okay," Wooyoung whispers.
"I'm-I'm shaken up but it's not really because of them. I just. I can't think about it too much," Wooyoung says, and he's laughing, and it sounds terrible.
"You're lying. You're not okay," San says, apparently still angry enough that he has no brain-to-mouth filter.
Wooyoung's whine is hysterical.
"What do you want me to say, San? Hey, I'm falling apart because I might have a flashback to a situation that was accidentally similar to this one which resulted in-in-fuck," Wooyoung chokes, and San can't even look at him.
"What should I think, here? That they shouldn't have called and asked for help? That they should've just stayed out on the streets for the night, or tried to walk home high? I know that's about the worst thing I could think."
"They live in this house. They know you don't condone drug use, and they should respect that."
"There's not a rule against it or something," Wooyoung says.
"We drink together all the time, and I know Mingi and Seonghwa and sometimes Hongjoong smoke weed when I'm not home. Hell, you used to smoke weed with Mingi for years. Hongjoong and Seonghwa got high out of the house in a situation they didn't think would affect me."
"But it did."
Wooyoung lets out a strangled cry.
"Yeah, and I want to forget about it and go to sleep."
San sits up and shakes his head at the ceiling, suddenly trying not to cry.
