A/N : All the Bouncy era Woosan crumbs dropped today triggered my inner Writiny. So, there you go! :')
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The sound of people cheering echoed through the dimly lit warehouse as San stepped into the ring. His white tank top clung to his chest, damp with sweat and blood stains from the earlier fight. But his mind was focused on only one thing— winning for Wooyoung.
Wooyoung leaned against the ropes outside the ring, his sharp gaze fixed on San’s opponent—a hulking figure that paced over the arena. The air was thick with tension, and the crowd was thrilled with anticipation. They’d seen San fight and win before, but this… this was different. This was the toughest opponent San had ever faced, and Wooyoung knew it.
San stretched his neck, and arms side to side, feeling the strain of the day's fights weighing on his body. Bruises had bloom across his skin, dark purple marks on his face and shoulders, but none of that mattered. Not when Wooyoung was watching. Not when there was a chance to make the young man; who San adored with everything he had, proud.
"San!", Wooyoung called out, his voice stern yet laced with an undertone of worry. "You don’t have to continue this. Going against him is dangerous than I thought. It’s not worth it, San. You'll get hurt really bad"
San’s lips twitched into a smile, though his body ached. "For you, It’s always worth it"
Wooyoung's eyes flashed with something unreadable before he clicked his tongue in mock annoyance. "You’re an idiot, you know that?" His tone was sharp, but San knew better. Beneath the biting words, Wooyoung was worried. He always was, though he never admitted it.
San stepped closer to the ropes, his hand reaching out to brush against Wooyoung’s. "I’ll win this. Don't worry"
For a moment, Wooyoung didn’t pull away, letting San’s fingers graze his. Then, as if realizing the vulnerability in the touch, Wooyoung jerked his hand back, masking his concern with a smirk. "You better. I’ve got a lot of money riding on this one", he put his hands in his pockets and blew a strand of hair out of his eyes. San grinned through the pain of the little cut by the coner of his lips, taking in a deep breath.
The bell rang, signaling the start of the fight. San turned to face his opponent, a man built like a brick wall, with fists that could shatter bones. The crowd roared, but all San could hear was the pounding of his own heart, and Wooyoung’s breath from behind him.
The first few hits were brutal. San had always been fast on his feet, but this guy was a giant. Each punch landed with a force that rattled his bones. He stumbled but continued to attack. He had to win, for Wooyoung.
But as the match dragged on, San could feel his body giving out. His vision blurred, his head felt light, and blood dripped from cuts he didn’t know where placed. The crowd’s cheers began to fade into a dull roar, but one voice cut through the haze—Wooyoung’s.
