SING ME TO SLEEP, woosan

34

wooyoung doesn't know what's running through his head when his fist desperately knocks against the wood of yunho's dormitory door.

but when it's pulled open for him, a figure entering his ray of vision, he falls into their chest, a wreck of tears and snot.

"w-wooyoung?" yunho murmurs, voice laced in surprise; his arms cradle the younger's body. "hey, what's the matter? what's up, babe, hm?" only receiving a frail hiccup in response as wooyoung's figure trembles, yunho stiffens. "what did he do to you?"

frantic with his movement, wooyoung shakes his head back and forth. that's the only thing he can do, the front of yunho's shirt damping beneath his face.

"no, i want you to talk to me." slowly, yunho shuts the front door, shuffling gently into the living room with wooyoung pressed into him. he sits his friend down, who immediately curls up into a ball — his gaze into the leather of the couch a stone grey. "c'mon, open up," yunho softly urges, head tilted to the side in concern. "what happened? do i need to—"

again, wooyoung shakes his head. he sniffles, and lowers his gaze. "wasn't him."

the whisper which leaves his own throat is enough for his lip to tremble, his eyes to brim with tears. he sniffles once more, refusing to cry again — now that wooyoung thinks about it, he doesn't believe he is entitled to. he's the one who ran away, who hurt san, who ruined it all. so why should he be the one to cry?

"i don't believe you with just that," yunho says, and wooyoung scoffs, taking him back.

"why not?" he questions quietly, lifting his eyes up to meet yunho's. "do you— do you know what i did to yeosang?"

yunho blinks several times, his brows furrowing. "i-i thought we didn't talk about him..."

"i killed him, yunho." wooyoung's voice raises in volume slightly. "i fucking— i killed him! i'm the reason he got hurt, i'm the reason he didn't make it!" he yells, face twisting into a loud sob. his head stings. "i-i... i did it. so why does san have to be the one who fucked up here? 'c-cause you don't know tha—"

"wooyoung..."

"you don't—" wooyoung sniffs harshly. "you don't know anything."

yunho's fingers graze wooyoung's knee with caution. "i know. i know, which is why i'm asking you to talk to me. i want to be a friend who helps you, wooyoung, through times like this," he expresses. "so please... at least, think about it."

shaking his head, wooyoung clenches his eyes shut. "i-i'm sorry, i—"

"you don't have anything to be sorry for, babe—"

"no, i just— fuck, why am i crying again?" bitterly, wooyoung laughs at himself, fists wiping his tears away. he exhales deeply, bringing his legs closer to his chest. "i'm so stupid, yunho."

"no. you're not," yunho argues softly, expression pitiful. wooyoung hates it, he hates, hates, hates it.