all jung wooyoung ever wanted was to go about life like he always did, and that worked for him; until the top-tier celebrity choi san was in the picture, that is.
but there was a catch; wooyoung was his anti-fan.
start: august 9, 2023
end: septembe...
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wooyoung was literally convinced that how many ever lives he'd lived before this one, in every single one of them, he had pissed off some or the other deity or divine being.
he lifted his head off of the couch, staring down at the cast on his leg before groaning to himself and letting his head fall back again.
wooyoung's little mishap from the day before had blessed him with a sprained ankle. it wasn't severe enough that he wouldn't be able to walk around without crutches, but it still meant he couldn't work or do anything for the next 12 days. in any other circumstance, he'd be over the moon if he was given almost two weeks time to sit at home idly and do absolutely nothing. but in this scenario, his stupid ankle held him back from feeling even an ounce of happiness or gratitude.
he was lucky that choi san's manager just so happened to be arriving to the set at the same time wooyoung had injured himself, because if not for him, no one would've come to help—everyone was busy watching choi san smooch the other very unlucky woman, of course. mr. kim had taken wooyoung to the hospital on his own accord and dropped him back to his home. because he had bothered himself with taking care of wooyoung first, mr. kim probably hadn't been able to pick up and drop choi san back home either.
why did he even do that? what was he thinking, tripping on his own two feet like a child? he was never the clumsy type either, so what had gotten into him? wooyoung could literally rip his hair out of his head at the moment from the build up of immense frustration in the past few days. not a single day could go by quietly and he had quickly gotten sick of trying to adjust. couldn't things just go back to the way they were? he yearned for his previously mundane, simple life more than ever.
and worst of all, what would he have done if choi san saw him? what would san think, seeing that he tripped because he saw san locking lips with someone? wooyoung placed a hand on his chest, relieved that the situation didn't unravel that way. because if it did, wooyoung would most definitely lock himself up in his apartment and literally never leave.
yeosang emerged from the kitchen with a bowl of abalone soup in hand, placing it on the table in front of the couch. "drink up, it'll make you feel better." he said before sitting down next to wooyoung with a box of fried chicken on his lap. wooyoung looked up at yeosang and glared at him. "what?" yeosang screeched defensively, shoving a chicken leg in his mouth.
"how the fuck is food going to heal my ankle, you dimwit?!" wooyoung exclaimed, taking a piece of chicken for himself. "you're making any kind of excuse to use up all my money now."
yeosang clicked his tongue but didn't defend himself because of course, it was the truth that wooyoung was saying, after all. "but what work is it that you're doing out of the studio, anyway? i asked mingi about it too and he didn't seem to know much. what kind of job is it that you end up with an injury like this?"
"relax, i'm not working with the NIS, or something. i injured myself on my own. it's not a dangerous job." wooyoung reassured, being unable to come up with a better lie about what job he was doing.
