The Odd Doctor Out | A Drama | S. 5

813 🩺 Baby Steps

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AN IMPORTANT NOTICE FOR READERS REGARDING THEFT:

If you are reading this outside W-A-T-T-P-A- D, then you are reading STOLEN WORKS 🛑

PLEASE REPORT THIS UNDER COPYRIGHT, and do not support thieves. It breaks my heart.

Sincerely,
Eve ♡

~~~

A/N: Lmao, ✨meanwhile on the other side of town✨...

Sitting up against the headboard in the bed belonging to Seonghwa's old studio flat, Wooyoung nibbled on his lip as he raised his knees and rested the open cover of his book against his thighs, turning the page and following the words smoothly with his eyes. Home alone, he curled and uncurled his toes into the blankets he was sitting upon, feeling rather calm inside. Freshly showered, he was quite content, reading his book.

However when he heard keys sound in the door, without thinking, he folded over his page and left his book aside forgotten, looking out through the studio and catching the moment San came inside, dropping his things at the door and letting out a deep, exhausted sounding breath.

When the brunette turned around however, surprise registered across his face when he laid eyes on him. 'Woo...'

Smiling, he'd been about to get up and go to him, however San beat him to it, crossing over and coming to sit beside him. He reached out a hand and brushed it tenderly down his cheek, smiling that handsome, adorable smile he so loved.

'How was work Sannie?' he asked, shuffling closer to him, tucking his legs aside and leaning his knees into San's lap, pressing a little kiss against his shoulder.

Reaching an arm around him, San leant both back on his hands but also into his side as he rested his head down upon his shoulder. 'I had another fight with my boss,' he replied, voice heavy and exhausted.

Pouting, he nuzzled his cheek against the top of his head before reaching up and toying with the lengthening strands—he needed a haircut. 'Did you win?' he asked, knowing it would not do any good to talk about why they'd fought so soon after. He would ask him tomorrow when he was not so visibly still affected by it.

Apparently, San hadn't been expecting such a question, for suddenly, he laughed. 'I'm not sure either of us won,' he breathed. Sitting back up, he turned to face him, shifting his arm to hold snugly around his waist, and reaching up with the other to brush the freckle beneath his eye. 'It's nice coming home to you,' he said quietly, emotion lacing his voice.

He gave him a warm smile that he hoped would make him feel better. After their rather emotional reconciliation, things still felt quite raw between them. He still didn't know whether San had truly, genuinely been planning on breaking up with him, but after thinking it over—constantly—and putting himself in his shoes, he had decided that he would choose to believe that San had simply been crying out for help, because he'd not known what he wanted to do, nor what the answer was for his hurt.

He chose to believe that he had the power to take away his pain. He was the source of his heartache and guilt, but that also meant that he had the power to fix it, and although he knew that if he dwelled upon it too much, he would cripple under the pain of knowing how much he had hurt him, he was actively choosing to focus on the fact that it was only temporary, and he could—and would—make things right again.

He was determined, more than he had ever been in his life.

Just that day, whilst he had sat in that very studio, he had planned very meticulously what he would do. He had braved his fear—mind over matter—and had called his psychologist to greatly increase the frequency of his appointments to twice weekly. He had called his boss at the post office to ask for more shifts to cover the costs of her services, and he had worked painstakingly without breaks to get his tafe projects and assessments complete—travelling around town with his camera and then editing for painstaking hours at the coffee table—to make up for the time he would no longer have for them.