・❥・ʙᴏᴏᴋ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴏꜰ ʙʟᴜꜱʜ ʙᴏʏ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ. Jung Wooyoung, known for his hot pink cosplay outfits, has blossomed with confidence thanks to his boyfriend, San. Enduring a time apart due to San's work, Wooyoung has held his own. But upon San's return, the dynami...
I stirred from my sleep at the soft sound of the closing door, my eyes blinking open as I grappled with the lingering weariness. Though I desperately needed the rest, sleep hadn't come as easily as I'd hoped, and the grogginess clung stubbornly to my senses. Rubbing my face, I tried to shake off the fog of fatigue, my gaze slowly lifting—and there he was.
Emotions surged unbidden and uncontrollable as I saw San putting his bag down. He was actually here, in the same room, not a figment of my weary imagination. For a moment, I doubted my own perception, wondering if I was hallucinating, the lines between dreams and reality blurred by exhaustion and longing.
"San?" My voice was hesitant, barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder might break the spell and prove him to be just another shadow of my imagination.
San turned, his expression softening as he met my gaze. "Hey," he said gently, his voice carrying the warmth and familiarity I had missed so deeply. He stepped closer, and I could see the fatigue etched into his features, the physical toll of his journey evident. Yet, his eyes were filled with concern—for me.
"It's really you," I breathed out, a mix of relief and disbelief washing over me. As he nodded, a tentative smile breaking through his exhaustion, the reality of his presence finally sank in.
"Yeah, it's me. I'm here," San affirmed, moving closer. He reached out, his hand brushing against mine, grounding me in the here and now. The touch was real, warm, and impossibly reassuring. My heart raced with a cocktail of joy and relief, the pent-up emotions of the past days threatening to overflow.
I reached out, my hand trembling slightly, and grasped his, pulling myself up to sit properly on the bed. San sat down beside me, his presence a tangible comfort that felt both surreal and desperately needed.
San's hands cupped my face, his touch grounding and tender, and it was like a dam inside me broke. Sobbing, every pent-up emotion surfaced uncontrollably. The man I loved so much, the one I needed more than anything, was right here, and all I could do was shift closer, seeking his warmth, his presence, his reassurance.
"I'm sorry for being weak—I thought I could handle it, but it's so hard, Sannie. The nightmares... I tried," I managed to whisper between sobs, my voice cracking under the weight of my own vulnerability.
San gently wiped the tears from my cheeks, his eyes soft with empathy and love. "Hey, listen to me," he said firmly, yet softly, making sure I was looking directly at him. "You're not weak. Not at all. What you've been through, what you're going through, it would shake anyone. It's okay to not be okay, Wooyoung."
