falling into you || woosan

~83~

WOOYOUNG'S POV

Weeks had passed since Yeosang and Jongho came out, and the energy of promotions had everyone scattered. I was in the studio, pushing myself harder than I should. It wasn't unusual—I've always had a habit of falling back into old patterns when things got tough. This award show special stage I was preparing for was just another pressure on top of everything else.

I'd just finished running through the choreography again, sweat dripping from my forehead as I caught my breath. I knew I should stop, take a break, but something in me wouldn't let go. Each time, I pushed myself harder, chasing perfection even though I was already exhausted.

A voice in my head kept telling me, "Just one more time," but I knew that one more time would turn into three or four. It was like this every time I got stressed—I felt like I had to overcompensate. I could feel the weight building in my chest, a familiar tightness that came with exhaustion, but I couldn't stop. Not yet.

I kept pushing. My legs were burning, my lungs felt like they were about to give out, but I didn't stop. Spots danced in my vision, dark and blurry at the edges, but it didn't matter. I had to get it right. I had to perfect every move.

But then, suddenly, everything went blank.

I didn't even realize I had fallen until I felt two strong arms under me, holding me up. My body was limp, barely responsive, and my head was spinning, my ears ringing so loud I couldn't hear anything. My vision blurred completely, and for a second, I thought I lost consciousness.

Cold air brushed my face, and the next thing I felt was water—cool, refreshing water on my forehead. Slowly, I started to come back, my senses returning one by one.

The first thing I saw when my vision cleared was San's face, filled with so much worry it almost hurt to look at him.

"Wooyoung," his voice was shaky but firm, "What the hell were you doing?"

I blinked, my body still weak, trying to find words. But nothing came out. I could only look at him, guilt and exhaustion mixing inside me like a storm.

San quickly brought the bottle to my lips, his hand trembling slightly as he tilted it. "Drink," he ordered, his voice hard with fear masked by frustration. I did as I was told, sipping the water while my vision slowly cleared. He pulled the bottle away, his eyes scanning me as if I might disappear if he looked away for a second.

The worry on his face was intense, but I could see the anger bubbling underneath. He wasn't just mad—he was terrified.

"What were you doing, Wooyoung?" His voice was sharper this time. "What are you doing ?"

I swallowed hard, trying to find an answer that made sense. "I... I just needed to get the choreography right. For the stage."

San's expression tightened, and he shook his head in disbelief. "Is the stage worth passing out again? Ending up in the hospital again?" His voice cracked slightly on the word "again," and it hit me hard.

My chest tightened as memories of the last time came rushing back. I could still remember the panic in his voice when he found me collapsed and unresponsive on the floor, his voice shaking as he called out my name over and over, trying to wake me up. He hadn't let me out of his sight for days after that.

I didn't have an answer now, so I just shook my head, guilt weighing heavily on my shoulders.

San let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry for getting snappy," he muttered, softer now, "but I'm scared for you, Wooyoung. I can't watch you go through that again. Are you okay? Really?"