My Stars Say Your Name | WOOSAN

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The next day, Wooyoung woke up feeling weak and miserable all over. His body ached as if the weight of the world had settled on his chest during the restless night. Every breath felt heavy, each blink a struggle to keep his eyes open. The remnants of disturbing dreams clung to him, leaving him feeling even more drained.

As he slowly turned his head, the sight of San moving about the room caught his attention. San was busy with something, his movements steady and purposeful. Despite the heaviness in Wooyoung's chest, seeing San brought a small sense of comfort. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make the world feel slightly less unbearable.

San glanced over at Wooyoung and smiled gently, "Morning, sleepyhead. You hungry? I was just about to make something."

Wooyoung tried to muster a smile in return, but it faltered halfway. “I’m not sure I could eat much, but maybe a little,” he replied, his voice raspy from the exhaustion.

San walked over, sitting on the edge of the bed, and placed a comforting hand on Wooyoung’s shoulder. “You didn’t sleep well, did you?”

Wooyoung shook his head, his eyes reflecting the turmoil he couldn’t fully put into words. “It was rough... but seeing you up and moving makes it a bit better.”

San’s expression softened, and he leaned down to press a tender kiss on Wooyoung’s forehead. “I’ll make something light. Just rest, okay? We’ll get through this together.”

As San moved back to the small kitchenette, Wooyoung watched him, feeling a flicker of warmth amidst the cold emptiness inside. Despite everything, San was here. And for now, that was enough to keep him going, even when the rest of the world seemed to be falling apart.

San was busy, his back turned to Wooyoung, as he carefully arranged a few things on the small table near the window. The morning light filtered through the cracks in the blinds, casting soft shadows across the room. Wooyoung, still feeling the weight of his restless night, pushed himself up from the bed. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around San, to draw some strength from the only source of comfort he had left.

He slowly walked over, his feet dragging slightly on the cold floor, and reached out to embrace San from behind. But just as his fingers brushed against San's back, San stiffened and quickly stepped aside, holding up his hand to stop Wooyoung in mid-distance.

“Wait!” San said, his voice laced with a strange urgency that made Wooyoung pause. “I… I’ve just cleaned up here, and you might get something on your clothes. It’s not the best idea to hug me right now,” he added with a small, almost forced chuckle.

Wooyoung blinked, a bit taken aback by San’s sudden reaction, but he didn’t press further. “Oh, okay,” he mumbled, trying to mask the slight hurt he felt. He knew San was just being his usual meticulous self, and in his dazed state, it was easy enough to believe.

San quickly flashed him a reassuring smile, his eyes softening as he saw the flicker of confusion in Wooyoung’s expression. “Don’t worry, I’ll be done in a minute. Why don’t you sit down and relax for a bit?”

Wooyoung nodded, though the lingering unease in his chest wouldn’t fully dissipate. He slowly made his way back to the bed and sat down, watching San continue with his task. There was something different in the way San moved—something almost too careful, too measured. But Wooyoung was too tired, too worn out to dwell on it.

He leaned back against the headboard, trying to shake off the unease that clung to him, convincing himself that San’s excuse made sense. After all, in this crumbled world, small routines and habits were all they had left to cling to. And if this was San’s way of keeping some semblance of normalcy, then Wooyoung would accept it, no matter how strange it felt.