black cat | woosan ✔

23

Wooyoung sat on the edge of the couch, hands dangling between his knees, staring at the faint light spilling in through the window. He felt hollow, like all the energy had been sucked out of him overnight. His eyes burned from the tears he'd cried earlier, but they were dry now. He was exhausted—not just physically, but emotionally. The weight of everything was pressing down on him like a boulder.

He knew he had to get moving. Staying still wasn't going to make things any better. Maybe if he showered and got ready for the day, he'd feel...something. Anything other than this crushing heaviness.

Dragging himself off the couch, Wooyoung shuffled to the bathroom, his bare feet cold against the wooden floor. He twisted the shower knob and let the steaming water fill the room, hoping it would wash away the tangled mess in his chest. Nope. Did not work.

The heat wrapped around him like a blanket as he stepped under the stream, but it didn't soothe him the way he hoped it would. His mind was still running—Mingi's departure, the argument with San, the bitter aftermath hanging over everything. It all played on a loop, like a bad song he couldn't shut off.

"Why the fuck am I like this?" he muttered under his breath, his voice swallowed by the sound of the water hitting the tiles.

By the time he got out and dried off, he felt no better than when he'd started. Just colder. Emptier.

He slipped into his usual wardrobe: a black hoodie and an oversized black-orange flannel layered on top. The colors reminded him of Halloween, which felt fitting given the nightmare his life had become. Dark denim jeans sagged slightly on his frame, baggy as always. No accessories, no effort. He couldn't find the energy to care today.

Wooyoung glanced in the mirror briefly, noting how lifeless his eyes looked. He thought about styling his hair but shook his head. It wasn't worth it. No one would care, and neither did he.

The kitchen felt eerie in its silence as he grabbed a glass and filled it with water. That was his breakfast. Just water. He didn't want to cook anything. He only cooked if Mingi was here. But he wasn't. He just stared blankly at the glass as he sipped from it, mind wandering back to everything he wished he could forget.

Mingi's words echoed in his head like a haunting refrain: "I love you, Wooyoung, but I need a break." It was hard to blame him. Wooyoung knew he was difficult, but knowing didn't make it any easier to accept.

San's insults still stung too, sharp and precise like barbed wire wrapped around his ribs. It was like no matter what he did, he was always a problem to someone. Always too much, always too emotional, always screwing things up.

How did things get this bad?

Wooyoung set the empty glass down and sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. He couldn't stay cooped up inside, even if it was freezing out. The air might do him some good—or at least it wouldn't make things worse.

Grabbing his phone and shoving it into his hoodie pocket, Wooyoung slipped on his white sneakers and headed for the door. He didn't bother with gloves or a hat. The cold would be better that way. At least he'd feel something.

The walk to the park was slow and aimless, the crisp autumn wind cutting through his clothes. The chill felt good—sharp and real. It kept him grounded in a way nothing else had today. He shoved his hands into his flannel's pockets, head lowered against the wind as he trudged forward.

When he finally reached the park, he sat down on the ground, the crunch of the autumn leaves echoing. The sky was overcast, a dull gray that mirrored his mood perfectly. The trees were mostly bare, their branches swaying slightly in the wind, and the few remaining leaves crunched underfoot as people passed by.