Why me? >Woosan<

14.

San POV

I leaned my head against the car window, the sound of the rain smearing across the glass almost drowning out the hum of the tires. We were heading to the airport.
Next stop: Tokyo. Then more cities. Then home.

Two months of stages.
Two months of cameras.
Two months of radio silence.

I couldn't get a hold of Wooyoung. Every call went unanswered. Every message left unread.
He probably didn't want to hear my voice anymore, not after I'd left him to face everything alone.

The night before we left, I'd written him a long text. An apology. A promise to explain everything when I got back. I didn't know if he'd even opened it. Didn't know if he hated me now.

I pressed my forehead to the window, squeezing my eyes shut. Why hadn't I gone to his house that morning? Why didn't I try harder?
Every question circled back to the same ache: I should have fought harder for him.

Onstage, I forced myself to smile. Forced my body to hit every move. Forced my voice steady. But when the lights dimmed and we bowed, my chest always felt hollow.

And yet, something unexpected had happened. I'd been bracing for backlash, for fans to turn on me, for headlines to destroy us. But the crowds screamed just as loud. Some even held up signs that said, Keep fighting.
I wasn't expecting that. It didn't erase the mess, but it was something to hold onto.

After a show one night, I found myself in Hongjoong's room. "Hyung," I said softly.

He looked up from his laptop, his face lined with exhaustion. "Hi, San. How are you holding up?"

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

He shut the laptop fully and turned to me. "You did good tonight," he said quietly.

"Thanks," I managed. His calmness always made me feel steadier.

Then his expression shifted, serious. "San."

"Yeah?"

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

The words cracked something open. Tears came before I could stop them, spilling over as I pressed my palms to my eyes. "What have I done, hyung? Why can't I have both? Ateez is everything to me, but he's..." I choked. "He's everything too."

Hongjoong moved closer, his voice low and firm. "We'll help you. Always. Just tell us what you need. None of us like seeing you like this."

Wooyoung POV

I woke up on my mom's sofa, disoriented. My phone was face down on the coffee table, its screen still lighting up every few minutes with new notifications. Headlines. Comments. Articles.

My mom hovered without smothering. She made sure I ate, though I barely managed a few bites. She never pushed, just kept her worry in her eyes.

My friends came by. I told them everything. They were shocked, a little hurt I'd kept it from them, but they understood.

"Have you heard from him?" Minji asked quietly.

"No," I said, wiping at my eyes. "He doesn't even read my messages anymore."

Tears came again. I hated crying, hated how weak I felt, but it wouldn't stop.
We ended up in a group hug.

Jun tried to lighten the mood. "Okay, so what movie are we watching?"

"A comedy," I said, curling under a blanket.

That night, there was laughter. For the first time in days, my chest felt less heavy. But when everyone fell asleep, the silence returned. Minji stayed up with me.

"Woo... what are you going to do?" she asked softly.

"I don't know. He doesn't answer. What can I do?"

"Do you... like him a lot? Maybe it's better to—"

"I love him," I said quietly, staring at my hands.

She went still. "...Oh."

"I ruined everything," I whispered.

"Give him time," she said. "I'm sure he'll call when he can."

Days passed. Then weeks. Hope began to slip through my fingers.

San pov

Four months later, we landed back in Korea. The tour was over. We were all ghosts of ourselves, running on fumes, desperate for rest.

I tried Wooyoung's number again. For the first time in months, someone picked up. "Woo?" I almost shouted.

"San?" The voice wasn't his. My heart dropped.

"Hi... this is San," I said softly.

"Hi San. This is Wooyoung's mom."

Shame flooded me. He didn't want to talk to me. Of course he didn't. And his mom, she probably hated me too.

"Is... is Wooyoung there? Can I talk to him?" My voice cracked.

There was a pause. "San, can you come over instead?" she asked gently. No anger. Just sadness.

"Yes," I said immediately. "Is he at his house?"

"No. He's with me. I'll text you the address. See you soon, San."

The call ended.

I nearly sprinted from the room. Mingi caught me in the hallway. "Hey, what's going on?"

"Wooyoung's mom answered. I have to go now!"

"Oh shit. You need a ride?"

"Yes, please."

"Okay, just grabbing my keys."

When he came back, Hongjoong and Junho were with him. "Is it okay if we come?" Hongjoong asked.

"Of course," I said. My voice shook. My whole body shook.

We piled into the car. My leg bounced uncontrollably. My nails bit into my palms.

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

"What if I lost him? What if he's moved on? I left him for so long."

"We'll know when we get there," he said. His voice steady as always. "But you won't lose him."

I stared out the window, heart pounding.
I didn't know what I'd say when I saw him.
But I knew I had to go.

I couldn't lose him. Not now.