SING ME TO SLEEP, woosan

68

wooyoung holds his knees closer to his chest, tighter, as san wheels his luggage out to kevin's car. much to his dislike, he's no longer drowning in the comfort of san's pyjamas; upon the boy's request, they eventually left their chastely tranquil embrace on the couch — snuggled together beneath a heap of blankets, the stupid rom-com playing before them giving san an excuse to pamper wooyoung's head with kisses — to get dressed for the airport.

after his quick shower, wooyoung found himself nestling back into one of san's hoodies. apparently, even coming as a shock to himself, the pyjamas weren't enough to satisfy him. something about his outfit belonging in the older's closet rather than his own makes wooyoung feel cosier, more secure.

perhaps it's a territorial thing.

even with his eyes boring into the fogged-up windscreen before him, wooyoung feels san's gaze on him. soft but worried — typical san. he runs a hand through his hair, the unrelenting wind quickly reinstating its disarranged state, and with cautious steps, joins wooyoung in the backseat. for a while, san doesn't say anything, or do much at all really, besides rest his hand on wooyoung's knee.

at some point, san inhales a sharp breath. "i'm sorry," he murmurs, thumbing wooyoung's sweatpants.

wooyoung's eyes immediately dart to san, the side of his face. he doesn't know what san is apologising for, but, whatever it is, he knows it's absolutely and completely wrong. "san," he utters, and it comes almost cold due to his disbelief. sitting up slightly, he grazes his finger's over san's knuckles. "what are you saying?"

"i just— i don't—" san breathes, long. "i know i'm just making it harder for you. by leaving today."

"that's not your fault, sannie," wooyoung whispers.

"i know, but i feel like—"

"well, you shouldn't feel that way," interjecting strongly, wooyoung clutches onto san's fingers. "you didn't know i'd get like this today — how could you have known? it's just a shit fucking coincidence."

almost unnoticeable, san nods his head. his lashes fall, and so does his head shortly, gently resting on the hill of wooyoung's shoulder. the gesture codes to say he's choosing to let this go, a relieved smile finding wooyoung's lips. he intertwines their hands fully, the spare tugging at the cotton of his hoodie strings. "i'm keeping this, by the way."

the small of san's back quivers amidst the chuckle that slips by his lips. "fine by me." san hums, his voice slightly quietening, "you look far prettier in it than i ever could, anyway."

"quit it."

"impossible." san grins, and squeezes wooyoung's hand. "are you feeling any better than before?"

almost instinctually, wooyoung's eyes flutter shut. "better, yeah," he answers, so quiet it's almost a whisper.

"tell me about it, my love. how are you feeling right now?"

wooyoung smiles, small yet hinting at gratitude. "i'm okay, sannie. the feeling's definitely gone away n' stuff, but i still..." his eyes sink. "i dunno. i just— i hate this. it was only a fucking dream, i don't know why i acted like that. it's so stupid."

"it's not stupid. you can't help that, angel," san soothes softly, thumb rubbing circles into wooyoung's knuckles. "you can't help the way it makes you feel, nor can you help the way your feelings make you act. things might be different to how they used to be, but that doesn't change the fact that you're still traumatised, wooyoung. you're still healing from what you went through, and that's perfectly okay. there's nothing wrong with that."