implausible - woosan

chapter forty nine

san wooyoung

04.10.17

they get more than a few days of accustoming themselves to this new real togetherness. of wooyoung tending to san, who keeps swearing he's okay.

and he is, the nurse says so, too, but wooyoung has to be sure. can't shake the reminiscence of his aunt's accident, the fact that this could have been a whole lot worse.

it's okay, it's good, and he keeps sleeping at san's apartment, practically living there now. san drives them both to school, in the sad shiny car insurance provided, when he's finally allowed to, helps him out as usual, but with a different air of tenderness now. an ulterior feeling of authenticity. because now they're allowed. in fact, it's expected of them. but he knows san's doing it because he wants to, due to nothing else.

wooyoung has tried not to think about the fact that if san is his soulmate, and has accepted him, he should be able to see by now. that is, if his parents' theory is correct. perhaps he has to wait until his birthday- the truth is, he has no idea.

in the end, it happens overnight. slowly, gradually, his vision returns to him. blurred light, first, still surrounded by corroded black edges, nothingness.

the absence of light begins to become coloured, familiar colours forming shapes, shades, objects. wooyoung isn't half sure he's not still dreaming, unable to believe his eyes. he blinks, then, repeatedly. 

opens and closes them, letting more and more light in. vision. he can see. the world is as he remembers, just so much more vibrant. shadows are darker, glowing bulbs iridescent. colours pop, variety of hues overwhelming.

he's not sure where to look first, where to place his eyes, just darts them around left and right. wooyoung moves slowly, as if the handicap is now physical. gradually, the way his eyes came back to him.

taking it all in, the mahogany wooden dresser, the royal blue curtains, dull cream sheets, wooyoung's never seen such beauty in the mundane. such marvelous reality in such simplicity. because this is san's room, and everything in it is familiar, nothing out of place, he knows it all by touch, could navigate it with his eyes closed.

and now he's getting up more quickly, more excitedly, quivering. the move to his feet is dizzying, his depth perception all sorts of jumbled, unused to the way the floor gets closer, the feet he sees that hit it. it makes him stumble, then laugh, act like a newborn deer learning to walk.

san's walls are cream, like his sheets, baring few imperfections. wooyoung's stick, lying discarded in the corner, is futile. the sight of it - the sight - has him grinning manically, the smile stretching across his whole face.

and san, san, is just there, shaving his face in the bathroom, his back to him.

the width of his broad shoulders dip into his magnificently small waist, familiar to wooyoung as the darkness he's accustomed to. even in a crowded room, even if there were a hundred people in here, wooyoung knows he'd be able to pick out san.

the sight of him, carefully bringing  the blue razor to his jaw, is reflected in the mirror, mouth angled down as he tries to shave the difficult bits. it has wooyoung laughing, which has san turning to him, white foam still adorning his face.

and there he is, in front of him, dark eyes as angularly slanted as wooyoung knows them to be, cheekbones jutting high and spectacularly defined as his jawline. the raven hair wooyoung has had his hands in so often is gloriously soft looking, sticking down the back of his neck, long lengths curling at his ears. the bathroom light casts a blueish shine on san, illuminating his surprised features animatedly.