Don't wave the flag if you're waging for a battle. When you're ready, march fiercely and don't back down. Even if it might seem unfair or insane, if you've planned it out then it's just you unleashing that power.
Once you get a taste of blood, you can't get enough, wanting more, leading to a place you hadn't expected to be in after so long of not doing anything. You might be close, but someone's inevitably one step closer than you think. You might feel stranded, like you're fighting by yourself, but it's just you talking. What if I tell you that loneliness was just a delusion? What if you had never awoken your eyes to see what's right in front of you with spread out arms? • • • • It was an early morning where everything felt so right. The wind wasn't too strong, the heat wasn't striking, the scenery was breathtaking, almost like it was meant to be. San got ready for work, making sure he didn't miss anything. He went to the other bedroom, sneaking in to not wake his grandmother up. He fixed the cover on her, kissing her head before exiting the room.
Every time he saw her lying in that bed, his heart ached. She had dementia, and she claimed that her grandson was her late son from the resemblance and lack of memory. In her teenage years, her voice was a siren, entrancing and hypnotic. She wasn't just popular, but an absolute goddess, her features alone catching hearts in a sack. San admired her, for she refused any proposal, and was who she wanted to become, moving ahead without any regrets.
He despised how cruel the world was for not permitting his grandma to keep her adolescence alive till her soul went aflame. He set up her breakfast on the dining table, placing a plastic cover over it and writing a note.
»»----> Changing into his uniform, San went behind the cash register double checking if everything was there. He was organizing the shelves when he heard the door bell ring, staring with curious eyes. He practiced his fake smile in his head according to custom, making the customers feel welcome per usual, only it was authentic. He was mesmerized by the fire blazing in his pupils, and how he was effortlessly stunning. The hatred, resilience, and anguish made him appealing, like a riddle wanting to be solved, a rubik's cube with a missing piece, how he was his missing piece.
San was in a complex maze, yet his goal was not to find an escape, but to follow it, discovering new corners and perspectives. And so, he went after him with no fucks to give, lunging into streets, halls, shops, anywhere he could. His commitment was unwavering, erudite with the routes as he shoved others aside sloppily. In the slightest glimpse of him, he was quite distressed, racing towards the boy and comforting him guardedly. Squatting earthward, he enveloped his arms around the younger, patting him tenderly till something began flowing continuously.
Tailing him everywhere to substantiate his safety, to not do anything rash turned into a daily thing, making it a part of his daily routine. He would sneakily snap pictures of him, assure that he was safe using his personal monitor at home, fan over the past, future, and present with him. He noticed his hatred for the world, how he didn't see his true worth, how ethereal he was doing the most simplest of acts, how he shined so brightly under the moonlit sky.
Eventually, on the darkest nights of his life, San's grandmother passed away due to a heart dysfunction. He had never felt so lonely under that same sky, only him left in his own utopia. When the funeral preparations ended, San was more broken than words could describe. His grandmother was his will to be here, his push, and he knew such a day would arrive, but he tried to deny it for as much as he could. Now, he had to accept such a calamity.
As he was drowning in his sorrows, Wooyoung was towed into the stygian. To San, Wooyoung was not the light at the end of the tunnel, but the light guiding him through the tunnel that life is. He helped San in finding himself in him, more than a mere duplicate, learning to evolve into his potential. Since that day, he was certain that Wooyoung would be his purpose. He wanted to let him feel loved, to let him see that there was more to people than he presumed. He vowed to sacrifice the world for him, even if it melts to ashes, even if there was nothing left, he'd pave the way if it meant being with him. It wasn't a heart flutter or love at first sight, it was riveting, a shooting star you wish upon but could never touch, never nab, solely glistening amongst the ordinary souls, standing out from everything and everyone.
»»----> Five years went by without a warning, and just a year ago, San had to move away for college. He sat by the window every day, wondering how he was doing, what he was up to, if he ate well, if he was fending off. He missed him a lot, yet he was packed with college admissions, exams, and his job. He was constantly busy, but he couldn't complain, rather he didn't have the time to do so.
After ages, San didn't have to do anything. Wooyoung showed up at his doorstep, and he tried to be nonchalant about it, but ended up staring at him more than he thought he would. Before he knew it, the storm had transformed into quiet rainy days that made him stay on his toes.
While living with him, he found out new information about him. He didn't dislike physical touch, he was just not used to it. He pretended to be fine yet he didn't conceal the sea of blue and its thunderous arrays. He pinches his ears whenever he's conflicted, and his laughter is as contagious as it comes. He longs for friendship, but he's afraid he might injure someone in the process with his own problems. He likes to keep to himself, setting up bars that could never perish, but he knew him like a lyric with no title.
San would skip a few of his lectures to hover around his classes, peeping through the window at his sleepy habits, how he glared at the teacher every chance he got, how he sketched with his tongue sticking out instead of paying the lessons any mind. At first, when students passed by, he would stare at the walls like they were a priceless artifact, but he got used to it, shrugging off any rumors or glowers.
What are the odds of them meeting like this? He kept asking himself yet never found the answer he was searching for. Just like how he saved his life, he wanted to be his umbrella, shielding him from any storm heading in his direction. He wanted to be his only choice, the hand to hold, the one that understands him most. And the day he fails, when that instant comes, he would blame himself.
»»----> San couldn't sleep as he held Wooyoung in his arms, draping his body with a towel to lessen his upcoming fever. He called in to inform the office that they wouldn't be going to classes for the next two days due to sickness, but that wasn't entirely false.
Wooyoung experienced an excruciating pain like no other, yet he liked the idea of being cared for. San sensed his motion, realizing that he was now wide awake. "I despise this..I despise you." San craddled Wooyoung, lulling him back to sleep, knowing he meant the opposite. "I know."
Wooyoung nestled into his contact, deliberately moving his hand to his own crown. San discarded the towel, resting his head on top of his as he shushed him unconscious.
Wooyoung was still unaware that he was someone's escape, a hero to many. San would show him how lovable he is. He would reciprocate the same affection he received many years ago, not out of duty, but out of will.
When San was falling, Wooyoung encouraged him to get up. When his wings were shattered, he would give him his own. When he lost his voice, Wooyoung guided him. When they were apart, fate brought them back together. That was enough for San.
