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 is heavy with descriptions of depression, anxiety, with minor mentions of abuse and child neglect. Please be advised and do not read any further if these topics are sensitive to you.
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Wooyoung takes a sharp breath inwards, trying to hide the slight tremble of his hands and the anxiety glistening in his eyes as he studies this male's face, teetering on walking away, or seeking the warmth of someone familiar.
Yeonjun, a face he hadn't anticipated on crossing at this hour, keeps him locked into a gaze that he hardly fights away. Maybe it was the mere idea of seeking solace in a presence that was familiar, of one that likely wouldn't seek to harm him in what felt like his darkest hour. Or, perhaps it was the idea of seeking shelter when even the world itself was descending into a quiet tumult.
"I'm–" he mutters out, trying to search for words but being almost unable to, letting the rain continue to pour over him as if he had been stuck in a drought, searching for water, and now had been lost in a sea of his own pity.
"Come here!" Yeonjun ushers, waving him closer to the door of the dance studio. "Come inside, you maniac. You're shivering!"
Wooyoung blinks himself alive and away from whatever stupor he had been hostage to, looking down to see that his hands were, in fact, shivering, and his clothes were completely and utterly soaked. With a few catered steps, Wooyoung closes the distance, feeling as Yeonjun's hand wraps around his wrist and pulls him inside to the vacant dance studio, listening to the soothing music of the lobby as if it were to calm all of his frayed edges from splintering anymore.
"God, what happened?" Yeonjun asks, shedding his own hoodie. "You look. . . disheveled, Wooyoung, are you alright?"
"I'm not capable of answering that right now," he murmurs back, setting down his wet bag that had been slung over his shoulder. "It's a lot, Yeonjun. There's too much–"
"Okay, I understand. Let me go get my car and I'll pull around so we can go to my apartment. Is that okay? Or do you have somewhere else you can stay?"
"I–" Wooyoung starts, looking down as Yeonjun's hand is extended towards him, handing over the gray hoodie he had been wearing. "I have nothing."
Yeonjun's eyes studied him for a moment, a wash of concern and empathy bestowed within the amber hues that watched him, searching his gaze, likely trying to piece together the time that they had spent apart to lead them in this exact predicament, yet he doesn't speak at first. He nods, offers a small smile and takes a breath.
