black cat | woosan ✔

13

Yunho sat on the floor of his apartment, back propped against the wall, a half-empty coffee mug beside him. His biology textbook lay abandoned at his feet, pages dog-eared and smeared with hurried notes. His mind, however, wasn't on mitosis or ecological systems. It was still on San.

He let out a long breath and ran a hand through his brown hair, which was starting to fall into his eyes. Why was San always like this? Always furious over the smallest things? Yunho had spent years navigating his best friend's mood swings—years learning what words wouldn't set him off and what topics to avoid. It took everything to figure San out, and even then, moments like earlier made him feel like he didn't know him at all.

All this over a cat, Yunho thought, resting his head back against the wall.

It wasn't just the fight that bothered him. It was the sheer exhaustion of it. As much as Yunho loved San—more than he cared to admit—the petty anger grated on him. Sometimes he wished San could just... relax. Yunho's heart squeezed uncomfortably at the thought. He hated himself for wanting things to be different when he knew how hard it was for San to open up to anyone.

He closed his eyes, willing the lump in his throat to go away. He couldn't cry. Not now. Not over something as stupid as this.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the other side of the city, Mingi sat hunched on the couch in his own apartment, scrolling mindlessly through his Instagram. The apartment was dim, the only light coming from the soft glow of the television playing a muted nature documentary. He wasn't really watching it, though. His thoughts were tangled in knots, the same ones he'd been wrestling with since he left the park.

He cared about Wooyoung more than anything—he always had. But sometimes, the anger...it was just too much. Mingi knew Wooyoung didn't mean to hurt him with it, but it still stung. The worst part was that Wooyoung never directed it at him, which somehow made it feel heavier, like Mingi had to carry it for both of them. He sighed, sinking deeper into the couch cushions.

The fight at the park had been so...pointless. Just like every other fight Wooyoung got involved in lately. It was like he couldn't help himself—like the anger was a storm constantly brewing beneath the surface, ready to strike without warning. Mingi hated it, but more than that, he hated how helpless it made him feel.

What am I supposed to do with all of this? Mingi wondered bitterly. He wanted to support Wooyoung the way Wooyoung had always supported him. But it was starting to feel like too much.

He pulled his glasses off and rubbed his eyes, willing the tiredness away. Yet no matter how much he tried to shake the feeling, guilt gnawed at him. He shouldn't feel like this. Wooyoung had been there for him through everything—the stress of exams, the late nights crying on the bathroom floor, the days when Mingi felt like he couldn't breathe. But now...now it felt like he was drowning under the weight of someone else's anger.

He let out a sharp breath and pushed himself off the couch, pacing the length of the living room.

The knock at the door startled him out of his thoughts. Mingi blinked, confused. He wasn't expecting anyone.

When he opened the door, Yunho stood there, hands stuffed awkwardly into his jacket pockets.

Oh fuck. He didn't expect him to be here in his unprepared state.

"You okay?" Yunho asked, his voice low and tentative.

Mingi shrugged, stepping aside to let him in. "Not really. You?"

Yunho shook his head, giving a weak smile. "Nope."

They sat on the couch in silence for a while, both too exhausted to say much. The air between them was heavy with unspoken words—complaints, frustrations, apologies. But neither of them knew where to start.

"San and Wooyoung," Yunho muttered eventually, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah," Mingi replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "They're a handful."

Yunho gave a tired chuckle. "That's an understatement."

The two boys sat in quiet understanding, the weight of their friendships pressing down on them. It was strange—how two people could love someone so fiercely and still feel like they were suffocating under the pressure of it.

Mingi glanced over at Yunho, noticing the exhaustion in his eyes. "You think they'll ever stop fighting?"

Yunho snorted, shaking his head. "Doubt it. But I guess that's just...them, you know?"

Mingi nodded, leaning his head back against the couch. "Yeah. I just wish it didn't feel like I had to pick up the pieces every time."

Yunho hummed in agreement. "Same."

Another silence stretched between them, but this time it was less heavy. Sitting here, next to someone who understood exactly what it felt like to carry the weight of someone else's storm—it was a strange kind of relief.

"Want food?" Mingi asked after a while, pushing himself up from the couch.

"Yeah okay," Yunho replied, offering a small, grateful smile. "That sounds good."

As Mingi moved to the kitchen, Yunho leaned back and let his eyes drift shut. Maybe things wouldn't get easier anytime soon. But for now, sitting here in this quiet apartment with someone who got it—that was enough.

And maybe, just maybe, that was all they really needed.