"My little birds deserve only the best" it's with a promise that it starts: a promise of safety against the violence of the world, the hunger, the loneliness and the poverty. Just like a little bird, as long as you stay in The Nest nothing from outs...
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San's sleep was light, filled with vague dreams that danced around the edges of his consciousness. He stirred as the first rays of dawn filtered through the blinds, the soft pink and orange hues casting a warm glow over the small room. For a moment, he kept his eyes closed, savoring the quiet, the strange comfort of the unfamiliar space. But as he shifted on the hard floor, the blanket tangled around him, the events of the previous night slowly came back. He remembered the drinks, the music, and Wooyoung—his smile, his laugh, his tears. The memory of Wooyoung dancing in front of him, just inches away, made his heart skip a beat.
San opened his eyes, blinking as he adjusted to the dim light. He stretched, his muscles stiff from the makeshift bed on the floor, and then slowly pushed himself up, rubbing his neck. He glanced toward the bed, expecting to see Wooyoung still sprawled across it, maybe curled up under the covers. But as his gaze landed on the bed, his heart sank.
It was empty.
The covers were thrown back, slightly wrinkled, and there was no sign of Wooyoung. San's eyes darted around the room, searching for any clue as to where he might have gone. His breath caught when he noticed a small, neatly folded piece of paper on the bedside table, along with a small stack of bills. He scrambled to his feet, the blanket falling to the floor as he rushed to the table. His fingers trembled slightly as he picked up the note, unfolding it carefully. The handwriting was neat, slightly slanted, but San couldn't recognize it.
I'm sorry for the trouble I caused. I hope these are enough for the room. Thanks for taking care of me, Wooyoung.
San stared at the note, his heart sinking further with each word. He scanned the room again, almost hoping to find some sign that Wooyoung was still there, that maybe he had just stepped out for a moment. But the room was silent, devoid of any presence except his own. He slumped onto the edge of the bed, the note still clutched in his hand, his mind racing. He felt an inexplicable sense of loss, a hollowness in his chest that he hadn't anticipated. Wooyoung was gone, and all that was left was this note and a stack of won, as if that could somehow make up for his absence. San placed the note gently back on the table and stared at the money for a long moment. He knew Wooyoung hadn't needed to leave it, San had no intention of making him pay for the room, especially after everything that had happened. But something about the gesture made San's chest tighten. It felt like a wall had been erected between them, as if Wooyoung had decided that this was just a brief, fleeting encounter, something to be neatly tied up and forgotten.
But San couldn't forget. Not the way Wooyoung had danced in front of him, not the way his lips had brushed San's ear as he whispered those teasing words, not the way his eyes had shimmered with silent tears as he listened to San's song. He couldn't forget the way Wooyoung had looked at him, with a mix of vulnerability and something else, something that San couldn't quite put into words.
