A Place to Belong - A Woosan Novel

{5 - The Storm}

The rain had started as a drizzle, soft and unassuming, but by the time Wooyoung finished running his late-night errand, it had transformed into a full-blown downpour. The streets were slick with water, and puddles formed quickly, splashing under Wooyoung's hurried steps as he jogged back to his apartment.

He rounded the corner, his umbrella struggling against the wind, when he spotted a figure standing in front of one of the nearby buildings, fumbling with something. Wooyoung squinted through the sheets of rain and realized with a start that it was San. Soaked to the bone, drenched from head to toe, San stood hunched in front of his apartment building, clearly frustrated as he searched through his bag. His keys were missing.

Wooyoung slowed, his heart clenching at the sight. He watched as San rummaged through his belongings once more, shoulders slumping in defeat when it became clear that his keys weren't going to materialize. He looked... lost. Vulnerable. And soaked.

Without a second thought, Wooyoung veered off the path and jogged over to him.

"San!" Wooyoung called out over the roar of the rain. San looked up, startled, his eyes wide with surprise. For a split second, Wooyoung saw something flash in his expression—maybe relief—but it was quickly masked by his usual guarded demeanor.

"Wooyoung?" San shouted back, his voice barely audible over the storm. "What are you doing here?"

"Long story," Wooyoung replied, stopping in front of him. He held his umbrella over San's head, but it was too late—San was already soaked through. "What about you? Locked out?"

San sighed, running a hand through his wet hair. "Yeah. Lost my keys somewhere. Not sure where... or how. But now I'm stuck."

Wooyoung glanced at the rain, which showed no signs of letting up anytime soon, and then back at San, who looked utterly defeated. His heart ached at the sight.

"Come with me," Wooyoung said without hesitation. "My place is just a few blocks away. You can dry off and wait out the storm there."

San hesitated, glancing at the building behind him as if weighing his options. Wooyoung knew that San wasn't one to accept help easily, especially not when he was feeling vulnerable. But before San could object, another gust of wind sent rain slamming into them, and San shivered.

"Alright," San muttered, his voice resigned but grateful. "Lead the way."

---

Wooyoung's little house was warm and dry, a stark contrast to the storm raging outside. The second they stepped inside, Wooyoung handed San a towel and pointed him toward the bathroom.

"Here," he said, already rummaging through his closet. "I've got some dry clothes you can borrow. They'll probably be a little tight on you, but it's better than sitting around in wet clothes."

San took the clothes without argument, his expression softening as he glanced at Wooyoung. "Thanks," he said quietly before disappearing into the bathroom.

Wooyoung busied himself in the kitchen, boiling water for tea and trying to suppress the nervous energy building inside him. It wasn't the first time San had seen his place, but this felt different. More intimate. There was a quiet reverence in the act of taking care of someone, and Wooyoung could feel the weight of that now, heavy but not unpleasant.

When San emerged from the bathroom, dressed in Wooyoung's tee shirt pulled tight across his chest, and sweatpants that stopped at his ankles, towel draped around his neck, Wooyoung couldn't help but gasp, but quickly covered it with a smile. There was something endearing about the way San looked—vulnerable, but comfortable. Seeing him in Wooyoung's clothes was more attractive than Wooyoung was prepared for, and he wasn't willing to consider that right now. The walls that San usually kept firmly in place seemed thinner tonight, and Wooyoung knew it wasn't just the storm that was responsible.

They settled on the couch with their tea, the soft pitter-patter of rain against the windows filling the silence between them. For a few minutes, neither of them spoke, both sipping their tea and listening to the storm rage outside. But the quiet wasn't awkward. If anything, it felt comfortable and familiar.

Wooyoung glanced at San, watching him as he stared down into his tea, his expression distant. He knew San was struggling with something,  and had been for a while. Now, with the rain providing a sort of cocoon around them, it felt like the right time to break the silence.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Wooyoung asked gently, his voice soft but steady. He didn't push, didn't demand. He just offered.

San didn't answer right away. He continued staring at his tea, his shoulders tense as if he was bracing himself for something. Wooyoung waited, his heart beating a little faster as the seconds ticked by.

Finally, San let out a long breath and set his cup down on the table. "I don't know why I'm telling you this," he began, his voice barely audible over the rain, "but I guess... I don't know. I feel like you're not going to judge me."

Wooyoung's chest tightened, his heart aching at the vulnerability in San's voice. "You're right," he said quietly. "I'm not."

San hesitated again, his fingers fiddling with the edge of the towel draped around his neck. "It was my ex, we had been together for three years," he said finally, his voice thick with emotion. His eyes shimmering in the low light. "He was my first love, I thought we'd be together for a long time. He... cheated. I found out a few months ago, and I just... I couldn't stay, I had to get away, so I left. Moved here to start over. But it's been hard. Really hard." San looked down at his hands, eyes now fully glassy with unshed tears.

Wooyoung's throat tightened. He know San was trying his best to hold in his emotions. Wooyoung had guessed that something like this had happened, but hearing it from San's lips made his heart clench with both anger and sadness.

The thought of someone hurting San like that—betraying him, breaking his trust—it was enough to make Wooyoung's blood boil, and a pit form in his stomach. With a bit of struggle, he kept his face neutral, his expression soft and understanding. This wasn't about his feelings. This was about San.

"I'm sorry," Wooyoung said softly, his voice full of sincerity. "That's... I can't imagine how hard that must've been."

San shrugged, but his eyes were full of hurt. "Yeah, well... it made me realize I'm not good at trusting people. I thought I could trust him, that he loved me too, but... I was wrong."

Wooyoung wanted to say something—wanted to tell San that not everyone would hurt him, that there were people who would treat him the way he deserved to be treated. But he bit his tongue. This wasn't the time for grand declarations or promises. San didn't need words right now. He needed understanding.

So instead, Wooyoung reached out, placing a hand on San's arm—a small, simple gesture, but one that carried weight. San didn't flinch. If anything, he seemed to relax under Wooyoung's touch, his shoulders loosening just a little.

"You don't have to trust me right away," Wooyoung said softly, his hand still resting on San's arm. "But I'm here. Whenever you're ready."

San looked up at him then, his eyes full of something Wooyoung couldn't quite place—something raw and fragile, but also... hopeful.

"I know," San whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I know."

They sat like that for a while, the storm still raging outside, but inside, everything felt calm. Safe.

But just as the moment stretched on, Wooyoung couldn't help but wonder: would this be enough for San? Would he ever be ready to let Wooyoung in completely?

As the rain continued to fall, Wooyoung realized that he didn't have the answer, but he had hope.