Forced to be together for the sake of the public eye, Jung Wooyoung and Choi San have been wrapped up in a scheme to bring their parent's million dollar companies together. Wooyoung hates San, and San hates Wooyoung. The arranged relationship was on...
This chapter contains very heavy material in regards to severe mental health topics (depression/anxiety), hospital visits, therapy, abusive/neglectful parents, confinement and isolation. Please avoid reading any further if these topics are sensitive to you. (All of these are discussed near the end of the chapter, so feel free to read past it, as these topics are heavy.)
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Wooyoung feels as if he's unable to move. Reality was crumbling, a thin line teetering between a hazed limbo and a cursed nightmare, both of which Wooyoung couldn't decide would be better in turn rather than whatever the hell he was presently stuck in.
He could subtly feel San's grip on his hand tighten momentarily, grounding him back to the situation at hand, forcing his gaze even further upwards to scan across a face he hadn't seen in years.
Yeonjun hadn't looked any differently than he remembered. Maybe his hair was longer, but his face, his eyes, his body shape and his smile; all the damn same. Wooyoung swallows harshly, jaw tight, looking away to glance at San. San eyes him worriedly, catching sight of the bridging tears before looking at the male with a slight hesitance, unsure of how to proceed.
"Can we just start with water, for now?" San asks, trying to break whatever tension had appeared over the table.
"For sure. I'll be right back." Yeonjun leaves nearly as quickly as he had arrived, and Wooyoung feels the urge to smack his head against the table. Had he been that obvious? Had he been abysmally embarrassing? Had he been wrong for feeling so distraught at the pure sight of someone who had destroyed him years ago?
"Baby," San says softly, squeezing his hand again, trying to pull Wooyoung's gaze back towards his own. "What happened? What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"
Too much. Wooyoung sucks in a breath quietly, trying to force his mind into a state of peace. He couldn't cry, couldn't leave, couldn't make a scene over any of this. There were media personnel lingering, and who knew what any of them could see? Wooyoung knew he had to be careful, he had to keep himself composed and glue a smile to his lips, leaving whatever turmoil to be dealt with in the safety of his own home.
But this pit in his stomach continues to grow, nearly like a black hole, absorbing his insides, sending a crashing wave of despair to surge through his veins. The world is heavy, settled over his shoulders and weighing down on his lungs, constricting him with its powerful grasp. He doesn't realize that he'd begun to slightly breathe heavily, gaze avoiding, staring down at his lap, squeezing onto San's hand for dear life.
