Infinitessimaly closer. || Woosan

5. Empathy Algorithms

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It's hard.

They sleep in the same bed because San knows his mom will come and wake them up in the morning as she always does when she's excited. If anything, San's ready for her to wake them up as soon as the sun rises given the importance of his sister's wedding.

They sleep in the same bed and San shrivels up in the corner of his side, facing away from Wooyoung. He doesn't remember when they've last slept together without Wooyoung snuggling against him.

They sleep in the same bed and San can't find rest. From Wooyoung's breathing, he figures he's not faring much better but San doesn't care, not after tonight.

He doesn't know how to wrap his mind around tonight... To know Wooyoung had known about his feelings for years and had let them grow... Or the fact he had wanted more but had decided against it without even sparing him a word about it.

San feels lost. He feels heartbroken to have been robbed of a chance to try things out. And now? He's not so sure where he stands.

He tries his best not to cry until he nearly passes out from exhaustion.

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During the few hours of sleep he manages to get, San dreams of Wooyoung being estranged at sea, of him waiting for his Ulyssean return. He doesn't come back.

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The wedding's sumptuous, emotional and beautiful, and San can't help but cry.

He cries in happiness for his sister, in bitterness for himself.

In another universe, San gets the chance to wed Wooyoung, to walk up to the altar and give their tattoos its final meaning. His chest feels hollow from how much he contains the wailing in him, the grief for a relationship that never got to exist. Next to him, Wooyoung. All day, they've been pretending their relationship hadn't just lived a major fissure, smiling at guests, laughing at his parents' jokes. It feels broken, tilted between them, the words they utter to each other devoid of their usual warmth.

San cries and Wooyoung hands him tissues. It makes him cry harder.

He spots Mingi amidst the other guests and thinks that, if his life had been any different, he wouldn't have been mourning a stale love story and would've indulged in the finite story of a wedding crush. Unbothered, unbroken, unburdened.

San knows what Wooyoung had said the night before, that he'd wanted something else too, and under the ashes and the bile, San's treacherous heart badumps at that thought. He watches Wooyoung charming one of his sister's friends, talking about that ceramic workshop he did with one of his friends. San remembers the spot of dried clay he'd found on his temple, how fond he'd felt. Wooyoung's solar, and San wonders if he still wants to gravitate around his orbit.

Despite the disappointment and the white lie, San knows his answer without having to think it through. He can't stand the thought of losing him, and, well, Wooyoung didn't say a thing because he feared the same outcome.

Same problem, different points of view.

He's mad, sure, but he can't help the fondness he feels at seeing Wooyoung simply exist.

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Everyone had eaten, chattering subduing for a more intimate feeling as the lights go down. San had managed to maintain a conversation with everyone at the table while thinking about a relationship that could've been and never was. About a relationship that could become something. At the seam of his life, San has to decide whether he wants to rip it off or continue building the stitches. It's harder than it looks, harder when he has to smile and keep his hand on Wooyoung's tense lap.