↱SACCHARINE↲ ⇾woojoong⇽

forward

[ ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚ ]

__

He hadn't been expecting much in the first place.

Hongjoong was a minimalist after all and never really needed anything but food to survive, but when they finally left Hongjoong's bedroom with only two filled moving boxes and an iron man poster, Wooyoung couldn't help but feel even more satisfied about being the one who was taking the boy away.

They left Hongjoong's room bare and deserted, mattress naked and walls plain.

Wooyoung had helped him carefully pack his anime collection, to which Hongjoong blushed horrendously the whole time, and made sure to stash his comic books and cd's in a whole new box where they wouldn't be ruined.

It had been a risk, getting up early just to get his things before his mother woke up.

They both knew it wasn't ideal, but the thought of running into his mother again was something Hongjoong dreaded more than anything else.

He knew the woman would search for sympathy, try and make Hongjoong feel as though he was the one at fault, and it would only turn into the same screaming match that had progressed the night before.

"It's a shame. I have fond memories of this room." Wooyoung quipped with a regretful sigh, looking around the room dreamily, emphasizing his gaze on Hongjoong's bed by violently contorting his eyebrows.

Hongjoong laughed quietly, stomach flooding with adoration at the reminder that at least Wooyoung had once again made something of his meaningful.

His room had never been something cozy or comforting to come home to.

It was just a room, small and confining like the rest of his life, and Hongjoong had grown much too familiar with the same spot of ceiling above his head at night.

But Wooyoung made him think of breathless laughter and flushing cheeks and the adrenaline rush of slamming his window shut moments before being interrupted, just so he could hold onto the width of Woo's smile at the back of his eyes where his mother had no chance of ruining it.

It reminded him of how Wooyoung had looked the first morning he stayed over, bathed in the sunlight that streamed through his window, tanned skin throwing off the glare with an even sharper gleam.

That was the first time Hongjoong had woken up to the sight of ashy brown hair and swollen pink lips, dark eyelashes fanned out over golden skin.

Hongjoong had gotten so used to it by now, already having memorized the slope of his nose and protruding shape of his ears, but he was suddenly reminded of how incredible it had been in the beginning.

How mesmerizing Wooyoung had been to learn.

The good memories with Wooyoung almost overpowered the horrible ones that surrounded the bedroom.

Almost made them entirely meaningless, but all it proved was that Wooyoung was his anchor, his secret to a seemingly unattainable amount of happiness, and Hongjoong had long ago decided that Wooyoung was the one he needed to run away with.