LOST AND FOUND, woosan

07 : floating

san's chin is perched upon the pages of solitaire when his periphery catches a bouncy silhouette approach him.

a light beams in his eyes as he trails after wooyoung, snaking through the library desks, an exhilarated skip in his step until he reaches the lone chair beside san. wooyoung's smile is charming, his teeth gleaming, and his voice is as sweet as honey." sannie — hi!"

san, too, smiles. by now, it's almost a reflex caused by the sight of wooyoung like this: looking like the personification of the sun at midday. "hi, wooyoung," he says contently. he watches as the boy plops into the spare seat. "aren't you meant to be having your lunch?"

"well, yeah, but— i  just wanted to see you," wooyoung reasons. his smile shifts into one much smaller, more timid. "there's no harm in that, is there?"

"then, thank you. thank you for coming to see me."

shaking his head, wooyoung chuckles. simultaneously, fondness and disbelief mingle with the sound. "there's no need for that. i missed talking to you, so here i am. it's no biggie."

a flustered yet relentless smile finds san's mouth, lifting his cheekbones and crinkling his nose. his dimples pop, showcasing the joy he doesn't have the capability to hide when he's around wooyoung — that is, if he wanted to, if he tried to.

san feels a dainty sense of relief when wooyoung finally decides to avert his gaze from his flushed cheeks. he doesn't know if he'll ever grow accustomed to that tender look in his eyes. wooyoung looks around, at the rows of chairs tucked beneath tables to the aisles of unorganised bookshelves, so thoroughly it's as if he's assessing the surroundings.

"do you... always spend your lunch in here, sannie?"

san is sure wooyoung holds only good intentions, what is most likely built from curiosity and care. so when that voice in his head translates the question as something meant to be degrading, insulting, hisses at san that wooyoung is mocking him for being such a miserable fucking loner, san screams at the top of his lungs that they're wrong. because wooyoung is his friend, wooyoung does care about him; he's said so himself, after all.

"yeah, i mean—" san shrugs, like he doesn't care, like it doesn't bother him. that's only partially true, however. "i don't really have anywhere else to be."

wooyoung returns to san's direction, looking almost sad. sorry. pitiful. "i wouldn't mind if you hung out with me. i only spend my lunches with yeosang, anyway, and i'm sure he wouldn't be bothered by it, either."

there's this desperation eluded in wooyoung's voice, his words, a desperation to be listened to. san forces himself to see past it, and think rationally. though, he's pretty much forgotten how to do so these past few weeks. "thank you, wooyoung," san starts, urging to sound as sincere as his small, feeble voice can manage. "but i dunno... i don't want to be a nuisance."

"san," wooyoung says, adamant. "you could never be."

san just looks down at his lap, the colour in his eye unconvinced. he hears wooyoung sigh, a soft, but sad, exhale, and san sees it, too, from the corner of his eye. he sees the heave of wooyoung's chest, and he sees the brief jut of his lips.

"aren't you going to have something to eat?" wooyoung asks next, his head tilting to one side.

san nips at his teeth. "i, um, i can't. i— i don't have any money on me, so i— yeah. but it's fine," he lies, the smile he forces just as blatantly dishonest. "i'll just eat later on."

that doesn't seem to be enough for wooyoung, because his lips droop into a frown. in utter silence, he just looks at san for a long moment, before suddenly slipping his backpack from his shoulder. the bag is black, coupled with a few red accents here and there, and a drink is pocketed at its side: the liquid slushes against its plastic surface, a thick, unappealing green which san reckons is probably a smoothie.