↱SACCHARINE↲ ⇾woojoong⇽

chaos

[ ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚ ]

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Hongjoong couldn't help but raise an eyebrow questingly when Wooyoung led him into one of the richest buildings he'd ever stepped foot in.

The walls were solid sheets of glass that sent glares of light to pierce every surface, sunlight overbearing every corridor and highlighting the decor beautifully.

The ceilings were high and the lobby was filled with the scent of flowers, splashes of color scattered around the room.

It all drew Hongjoong's curious eyes, but he suddenly felt horribly out of place as he hurried to press behind Wooyoung, following him soundlessly into the polished wood elevator.

"We're not meeting the Queen of England." Wooyoung teased knowingly, smirking as the doors slid shut and the walls shuttered. "You can calm down."

"Shut up," Hongjoong whined. "You know that's not it."

Wooyoung immediately softened, smile vanishing as he crowded up against the wall to look at him more clearly, eyes warm and observant.

He was contemplating whether to say something, mouth practically twisting with it as his nose scrunched hesitantly, and Hongjoong stuffed his hands in his pockets before he could do anything stupid like touch him.

The air was silent but the tension was clear, pressing against Hongjoong's sides until he couldn't help but finally look over at Wooyoung, chest tightening when the reciprocated gaze made Wooyoung's lips quirk.

"If this guy finds out more about your father, are you gonna want to meet him?" He asked finally, his voice soothing enough to mask the true weight of the question.

Wooyoung had always had that ability.

His voice was pleasant and thick and it settled in Hongjoong's chest like a weight whenever he'd hang on a certain word for too long, clinging to it with the roof of his mouth or tip of his tongue, the drag of it comforting coming from his smooth set of lips.

His features were soft and almost doll like, eyes innocent and youthful, alerting anyone who came close that he was capable of being trusted.

He was someone who made people relax without even having to raise a finger, presence tender and generous.

Hongjoong never thought twice about exposing the shredding leftovers of his heart to him.

"I don't know. Nothing's changed, he still left me." The boy admitted, managing a dismissive shrug of his shoulders, and it somehow finally occurred to him that Wooyoung hadn't even known the extent of his father until that morning.

Hongjoong had hardly mentioned him, if at all until his emotional speel in the bathroom, and it made the Hongjoong's lips dip into a frown as the elevator opened and a hallway appeared in front of him.

It was sometimes hard to remember that Wooyoung didn't actually know everything.

Just like it was difficult to remember that Hongjoong hadn't known him his entire life.