Why me? >Woosan<

14

San leaned his head against the car window, the rain streaking across the glass almost loud enough to drown out the hum of the tires.

Next stop. Tokyo.
Then more cities.
Then, eventually, home.

Three months of stages.
Three months of cameras.
Three months of silence.

He hadn't been able to reach Wooyoung. Every call went unanswered.
San told himself Wooyoung probably didn't want to hear his voice anymore, not after being left alone to face everything.

San had written him a long message. An apology. A promise to explain everything when he got back.

He didn't know if Wooyoung had ever opened it.

San pressed his forehead to the glass and squeezed his eyes shut.

Why hadn't he gone to Wooyoung's place that morning?
Why hadn't he tried harder?

Every question circled back to the same ache.

I should have fought harder for him.

Onstage, San forced himself to smile. Forced his body through every move. Forced his voice to stay steady.

But when the lights dimmed and they bowed, his chest always felt hollow.

Still, something unexpected happened.

He had braced himself for backlash. For fans to turn on him. For headlines to tear everything apart.

But the crowds screamed just as loudly as before. Some fans even held up signs that read Keep fighting.

He hadn't expected that.

It didn't fix anything.

But it gave him something to hold onto.

-

One night after a show, San found himself standing in Hongjoong's doorway.

"Hyung," he said quietly.

Hongjoong looked up from his laptop, exhaustion etched into his face.

"Hey, San. How are you holding up?"

"I'm... trying," San admitted. "But it's hard when I don't know how he's doing."

Hongjoong closed his laptop and turned fully toward him.

"You did well tonight," he said softly.

"Thanks," San replied.

Hongjoong's calm always steadied him.

Then Hongjoong's expression shifted, more serious.

"San."

"Yeah?"

"You have to fight for him," Hongjoong said. "If he's this important to you, you can't just let him slip away."

Something inside San cracked.

Tears spilled over before he could stop them. He pressed his palms to his eyes, voice breaking.

"What have I done, hyung? Why can't I have both? Ateez is everything to me, but he's... he's everything too."

Hongjoong stepped closer, his voice firm and grounding.

"We'll help you. Always. Just tell us what you need."

San nodded shakily.

-

Wooyoung stayed at his mom's house.

Most nights he slept on the couch, drifting in and out of restless naps while the TV murmured quietly in the background. His phone remained on the coffee table where he'd dropped it days earlier, the screen dark, the battery long dead.

He never picked it up.

His mom didn't ask him to.

She simply stayed close.

Sometimes she brought him food he barely touched. Sometimes she brushed his hair back when he fell asleep. Sometimes she just sat beside him in silence, her presence steady and patient.

His friends came over almost every day.

They tried to keep things normal.

Jun put on movies.
Minho brought takeout.
Minji sat beside him, quiet but watchful.

At first the house felt too loud, too full of people trying not to say the wrong thing.

But eventually the noise softened.

The days blurred together.

Morning light through the curtains.
Evenings on the couch.
Voices drifting in and out of the room.

Sometimes Wooyoung spoke.

Most of the time he didn't.

No one pushed him.

Weeks passed.

Slowly, painfully, the world kept moving even though it felt like his had stopped.

And little by little, the fragile hope he had been holding onto began to slip through his fingers.

-

Three months later, Ateez landed back in Korea.

The tour was over. They were all running on fumes, exhausted, hollowed out, desperate for rest.

San tried Wooyoung's number again.

And for the first time in months, someone answered.

"Woo?" San said, breathless.

"San?"

The voice wasn't Wooyoung's.

His heart dropped.

"Hi... this is San," he said quietly.

"This is Wooyoung's mom."

Shame flooded him.

Of course Wooyoung didn't want to talk to him. And his mom, she probably hated him too.

"Is... is Wooyoung there?" San asked, voice cracking. "Can I talk to him?"

There was a pause.

"San," she said gently, "can you come over instead?"

No anger.

Just sadness.

"Yes," San said immediately. "Is he at his place?"

"No. He's with me. I'll text you the address."

The call ended.

San nearly ran out of the room.

Mingi stopped him in the hallway.

"What's going on?"

"Wooyoung's mom answered. I have to go. Now."

"Oh shit. You need a ride?"

"Yes."

Hongjoong and Seonghwa joined them by the door.

"Is it okay if we come?" Hongjoong asked.

San nodded, voice shaking.

"Please."

-

In the car, his leg bounced uncontrollably.

His nails dug into his palms.

"San," Hongjoong said, resting a hand on his knee. "Breathe. It's going to be okay."

"What if I lost him?" San whispered. "I left him for so long."

"We'll know when we get there," Hongjoong said calmly. "But you won't lose him."

San stared out the window, heart pounding.

He didn't know what he'd say when he saw Wooyoung.

But he knew one thing for certain.

He had to go.

He couldn't lose him.