Lines Crossed (SanSang)

33

A week had passed, and San felt like he was slowly unraveling. Every morning he'd look for Yeosang in their usual seat, only to find it empty. He'd glance around, searching for him in the back rows, and there Yeosang would be, purposely avoiding him. And every time their eyes accidentally met across the classroom, Yeosang would quickly turn away, his expression colder than San had ever seen. It was as if Yeosang was erasing him, one ignored glance at a time, and it was driving San out of his mind.

In between classes, he'd texted, called, even sent apologetic voice messages, but Yeosang hadn't responded to a single one. He'd even tried reaching out to Wooyoung, hoping he could act as a bridge, but Wooyoung had been giving him the same icy treatment. When San finally caught sight of him alone at the campus cafe, he felt a flicker of hope. He knew he had to try, one last time.

San took a deep breath and approached Wooyoung's table, the sounds of the bustling cafe fading as he got closer. Wooyoung was hunched over his notebook, his headphones dangling around his neck, a barely touched iced americano beside him. San swallowed, then spoke, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Wooyoung. Can we talk?" San's voice was low, almost pleading.

Wooyoung didn't look up. He scribbled something in his notebook, his lips pressed into a thin line, until finally, he sighed and dropped his pen, glancing up with a pointed glare. "What do you want, San?"

San flinched. He'd rarely seen Wooyoung this cold. It was a side he saved for people who crossed the line—people who betrayed his friends. San's stomach twisted.

"I just... I need to understand why you're ignoring me too. Yeosang, I get, but... you too?" San's voice wavered slightly. "Please, Wooyoung, I can't take both of you hating me."

Wooyoung let out a bitter laugh, leaning back and crossing his arms. "Hate? Do you have any idea what you've done to Yeosang? I don't throw that word around, but right now, I'm closer to it than you might think." He glared at San, his voice sharper than usual. "San, Yeosang's been my friend since forever. He's one of the most genuine, innocent people I know, and he trusted you. He really liked you. And you... You just used him."

San clenched his jaw, the guilt pressing down on him even harder. "It's not like that, Wooyoung. I swear it wasn't just—"

"Then what was it, San?" Wooyoung cut him off, his voice rising. "That you used him to test your sexuality? Or that you played with his feelings while being engaged?"

San froze, his heart pounding in his chest. How did Wooyoung know? He hadn't told anyone. He'd kept it buried, hoping to protect everyone involved, even if it meant losing Yeosang. "H-how do you know?"

Seeing San's stunned expression, Wooyoung rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Does it matter how I know? What matters is that it's true, and your silence just confirmed it."

San's face fell, the shame settling over him like a heavy weight. He didn't know what to say. The truth hung there, exposed and ugly, with no way to soften it. He glanced down, unable to meet Wooyoung's glare.

"Does Yeosang know?" San finally managed, his voice barely a whisper.

Wooyoung's expression was unreadable, his arms folded tightly across his chest. "What do you think?" he said, raising an eyebrow, challenging San with his silence.

San's frustration grew, an uneasy desperation clawing at him. He gritted his teeth, his patience finally snapping. He slammed his hand down on the table, making Wooyoung's coffee jump, along with a few other people nearby who turned to look.

"Does Yeosang know?" he demanded, his voice harsh, his eyes desperate.

Wooyoung's glare softened just a bit, a flicker of something like sadness crossing his face. He looked away, then nodded. "Yeah. He knows everything. That's why he's avoiding you." He paused, his voice softer now but laced with a quiet anger. "Do you get it now, San? How much you hurt him?"

San stumbled back, his hand slipping from the table as Wooyoung's words sank in. He felt like he'd been hit, a wave of nausea twisting in his stomach. Yeosang knew. That explained everything—the cold looks, the silence, the way he'd changed seats in class as if he couldn't bear to be near him.

And it was all because of his mistake. Because he hadn't been honest, because he'd let his own confusion hurt the person he'd grown to care about the most.

"I... I didn't want to hurt him," San whispered, his voice breaking. "I thought... I thought keeping it from him would protect him. I never wanted it to end like this."

Wooyoung sighed, a trace of sympathy in his eyes, though his expression remained firm. "Well, you made a choice, San. And Yeosang made his, too." He shook his head, the anger and disappointment still simmering beneath the surface. "Maybe it's time for you to let him go. He deserves to heal, without you making it harder."

San felt something break inside him as he nodded slowly, unable to argue. He'd lost the right to try to explain, to try to fix things. And maybe Wooyoung was right—maybe leaving Yeosang alone was the only way he could do one last thing for him. But the thought of letting go, of never seeing Yeosang's smile again, never hearing his laugh... it hurt more than he could have imagined.

Without another word, San turned and walked out of the cafe, leaving behind the broken pieces of what could've been. And for the first time, he truly understood the depth of what he'd lost.

When San finally got back to his dorm, he locked the door behind him and dropped onto his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The weight of the day sank in, and he felt utterly drained, his mind spinning in a spiral he couldn't seem to escape.

His phone rang as he saw "MY FIANCE❤️" written over it. A new she saved herself on his phone. He sighed muting his phone not in the mood to deal with her now. After all it was all fake. Or... forced.

All he could think about was Yeosang—Yeosang's shocked face, his hurt expression, the way he'd looked away as if even seeing San was painful. He buried his head in his hands, wrestling with the thoughts that refused to give him peace.

If he kept his distance, Yeosang would be able to move on, to find someone who wouldn't come with all this baggage, someone who could love him freely. But at the same time, San felt an overwhelming urge to tell him everything. He wanted to explain, to make him understand that the engagement was nothing but a shadow of family expectations, a formality that had weighed on him all his life. It was an arrangement, something cold and devoid of any real feeling. There was no love there, no passion. He barely even knew her. And yet it was real enough to hold him back, real enough to stop him from being with Yeosang the way he truly wanted to.

San sighed, pressing a hand to his chest where the ache wouldn't stop. It felt like he was trapped in a dilemma he couldn't escape. He wanted Yeosang in his life, wanted to let him in and tell him every truth. But what kind of life would that even be? He'd never be able to give Yeosang everything he deserved. Not with his family, not with the expectations constantly surrounding him, keeping him tied down like chains he couldn't break.

He took a shuddering breath, letting his eyes drift shut. The thought of Yeosang hurt, moving on without him, pained him more than anything else. But maybe that pain was better than the regret of dragging Yeosang into something so complicated, something he couldn't promise would be forever.

Lying there, lost in thought, San felt himself torn between staying away and being honest. Either path would hurt, and the truth was, he didn't know if he could bear seeing the hurt in Yeosang's eyes again.