Why me? >Woosan<

15.

San POV

The rain had slowed to a drizzle by the time we pulled up outside the small house.
I stepped out of the car, heart hammering, legs feeling heavier with every step.

Behind me, the others got out too. Mingi shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing up at the lit window. Hongjoong and Junho stood close together under an umbrella, quiet, watching me.

"Go on," Hongjoong said softly. "We'll wait right here."

I nodded, swallowing hard, and turned toward the door. The walkway felt longer than it was, my shoes soaking through from the puddles.

When I finally reached the porch, I hesitated. I could see my reflection faintly in the glass, pale, tired, nervous as hell.

"Just breathe," I muttered to myself, and knocked.

The door opened a moment later.

"Hi, San," the woman said with a gentle smile. "It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Go-eun, Wooyoung's mom."

She looked so much like him around the eyes that my throat tightened instantly. I bowed deeply, unable to meet her gaze.

"Hi. I'm sorry, I know you probably don't want me here, but I'd really like to talk to Wooyoung."

"Come in," she said, stepping aside.

I glanced back once, the guys were still there by the car, waiting quietly, giving me a reassuring nod, before I stepped inside.

The house was warm, lived-in, the faint scent of tea and laundry in the air. A clock ticked softly in the hallway.

We sat at the kitchen table, the silence heavy between us until she finally spoke.

"I didn't tell Wooyoung you were coming."

The words hit hard. "Does he... hate me?" I asked quietly.

She shook her head. "No, San. He doesn't hate you." Her voice was calm but sad. "He wouldn't be this heartbroken if he hated you."

My heart dropped. I stared down at my trembling hands. "I'm so sorry," I whispered.

"When the first article came out, he didn't handle it well. But his biggest worry wasn't himself, it was you. He was terrified he'd ruined your career."

"I should've been there for him," I said, tears already blurring my vision. "I tried. I really tried."

"I know you did. But when that apology letter was published..."

"I didn't write that," I said quickly. "I swear I didn't know they were going to release it."

Her eyes softened. "He thought you didn't love him anymore when you didn't reach out."

That broke me. I put my face in my hands, crying silently.

"For a while, he wasn't taking care of himself," she said softly. "He wouldn't eat or sleep. It broke my heart to see him like that. But his friends have been good to him, they've helped him start finding his way back."

"I'm so sorry," I choked out. "I never meant to hurt him."

"I know," she said gently. "I'm not telling you this to make you feel worse. I just want you to understand. His room's upstairs, second door on the right."

I nodded, wiped my face, and stood on shaky legs.

The stairs creaked beneath me as I climbed. I paused at his door, my hand trembling on the handle.
"Woo..." I whispered, pushing it open.

He was asleep, curled up under a blanket, his hair messy and his face pale. I sat down beside him, brushing the hair from his forehead.
"I'm so sorry," I murmured.