enough. woosan (wooyoung pov)

30: a brighter future.

After Changmin's departure, Wooyoung yearned for San's attention. "What?" San questioned, his furrowed brow emphasizing his concern. Even in his upset state, something about San caught Wooyoung's attention – an attractiveness that amused him, considering the seriousness of the situation. A little chuckle escaped Wooyoung, a release of tension in the face of an insane emotional rollercoaster.

"I'm sorry for that." Wooyoung said, closing the gap between them as he walked toward San, who was perched on a bar stool. Wooyoung reached out and gently took San's hand. "I don't—"

San spoke in a reassuring tone, trying to calm Wooyoung down. "It's okay," he said, noticing the worry lines on Wooyoung's face. His words had a glimmer of warmth, which brought a slight smile to Wooyoung's face. Wooyoung settled himself onto San's lap, perched on a bar stool by the kitchen's edge. The room was silent except for the faint tick of a clock, mirroring the heavy beats of his guilt-laden heart. His mind was a hurricane, thoughts swirling with remorse and the fear of unraveling the delicate threads of their newly rekindled relationship.

San, with a perceptive gaze, felt the tension in Wooyoung's frame, the silent vibrations of his inner turmoil. With a tender gesture, San leaned forward, pressing a reassuring kiss to Wooyoung's cheek, an anchor in the storm. "I know it's not your fault," he whispered, a balm to the chaos in Wooyoung's mind.

Wooyoung shook his head, his eyes a torrent of sincerity as he met San's steady gaze. "Please, it is. You know it. I promise you I don't have feelings for him. I truly want only you back." His voice, barely above a whisper, was thick with the promise of a future untainted by the mistakes of the past.

"It won't ever happen again, San, I promise," Wooyoung vowed, the words falling from him like a sacred oath.

San nodded, the gesture simple but laden with trust, a silent testament to the strength of their bond. "I trust you," he affirmed, and in those three words, he offered Wooyoung absolution and the hope of a new beginning.

San reached up, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss first to Wooyoung's forehead, then to his cheek—a silent message of comfort and forgiveness. "Let's get ready for bed, yeah?" his voice low and soothing, slicing through the tension that held Wooyoung captive.

With a nod, a silent acknowledgement of the day's emotional toll and the promise of rest, Wooyoung hopped off San's lap. Together, they moved through the comforting routine of preparing for the night.

---

Morning light filtered gently into the room, wrapping Wooyoung and San in a warm glow that highlighted the entangled sheets of their bed. Wooyoung stirred, his eyes flickering open to find San on the edge of the mattress, a wild sleeper who had left the bed in disarray. With a soft chuckle, Wooyoung reached out, guiding San back to the safety of the bed's center.

However, the moment's tranquility was abruptly disrupted by the accusatory blink of Wooyoung's digital clock. Unwelcome truth stared back at him—the brink of tardiness. Adrenaline surged, and Wooyoung leaped from the bed, his heart pounding a rhythm of urgency.In the blur of morning air, Wooyoung scrambled to dress, his movements a frenzied dance between necessity and time. There was no room for a leisurely breakfast or a lingering goodbye; every second was a desperate sprint against the relentless clock. Keys were snatched hastily, a quick pat-down to ensure essentials were in place, and Wooyoung dashed out of the house.

The studio greeted him with the pulsing rhythm of a new dance routine as he slipped through the door, a silent figure blending into the focused chaos of bodies and movements. Rehearsal was already underway, the air thick with the beat of music and the intense concentration of dancers synchronizing to its command. Towards the back, in the haven for latecomers and stragglers, Wooyoung weaved through, his presence barely registering amidst the fervor of the rehearsal.