on pieces of dyed rays | woosan

Chapter Seventeen

"You look adorable," San tells Wooyoung like that's supposed to make him feel better.

They are sat at the usual bar counter, San wearing a simple black V-line knit that exposes his honeyed chest slightly and accentuates his body line well, looking stunning as always, but Wooyoung is drowned in a huge, fluffy, white jacket that is far from sexy.

"Jongho made me wear it," Wooyoung grumbles, recalling how the younger forced him to wear something warm when he visited the junkyard earlier.

"You dare remove that today and I'll make sure to rip your head in half like an apple," he warned him with stern eyes, making him shiver.

"What a caring dongsaeng you got," Yeosang chips in, bringing him an orange juice.

"Hey!" Wooyoung clearly ordered his usual drink and protests, but Yeosang pushes his forehead with his finger.

"What a caring friend you got, too." Not giving Wooyoung a chance to talk back, Yeosang walks off to attend to another customer at the end of the counter.

San chuckles and slips his hand on Wooyoung's hand that is resting on his thigh. "I'm glad you're feeling better." He caresses his knuckles with his thumb, and Wooyoung doesn't draw back because it feels good.

"Uh-huh," Wooyoung grumbles and takes a sip, tasting a hundred percent orange juice on his tongue and hums involuntarily, pleased. He has to admit Wonderland definitely offers good drinks, alcoholic or not.

Looking over San, he sees who Yeosang is attending to. A woman with long black hair, wearing red spangles. Yeosang is pouring her a rose wine, and that's when Wooyoung registers it's the third Saturday of the month today, past eleven. She's sitting at the same spot, in the same outfit, with the same glass of rose wine, like every other third Saturday.

When Wooyoung takes a little too long to observe the woman, San turns his head and gives a glance to the person of interest.

"Eyeing someone else already?" San turns back frowning, but his voice has no displeasure in it.

Wooyoung shakes his head. "I just-" He sees a man approaching her, ordering a drink for himself and offering one to her, (he clearly isn't used to it, because her glass is visibly filled) and getting rejected soon after.

"Why do you think she comes to the club?" Wooyoung asks San instead.

"Why does anyone come to a club?" San takes a sip of some kind of vodka-based cocktail Wooyoung forgot the name of. "Drinks, music, dance, meeting people, hooking up."

Wooyoung shakes his head. "None of that. She comes here every third Saturday of the month, wearing the exact same dress, ordering the same drink. She sips on that one drink for an hour, turns everyone that approaches her down, and she never steps on the dance floor."

San takes in Wooyoung's comments and glances at the woman again. He stares at her a moment too long, quite openly, and when the woman notices, she stares back at them. Wooyoung isn't too proud to say he jolted in his chair, but San calmly waves at her—probably smiling too—and she waves back, before he turns back to him again.

"With how her eyes flicker to the entrance, she seems to be waiting for someone," San says calmly, as if he just wasn't caught staring.

"But no one ever comes," Wooyoung scoffs. "She should've realised she'd been ditched a long time ago then."

"Maybe she doesn't mind."

"Doesn't mind getting ditched?"

"Doesn't mind waiting," San says. "You know that feeling of excitement, hope, anticipation when you're waiting for someone? That tingles or warmth you feel in your chest."