A Place to Belong - Woosan

{15 - Breaking Free }

The room was dark, lit only by the soft glow of the television screen as the movie flickered in the background. San sat on the couch, tucked under a blanket, with Wooyoung beside him, their legs comfortably intertwined. It was supposed to be a relaxing night—just the two of them, watching a film and unwinding from the whirlwind of emotions that had plagued the last few days.

But San's phone had other plans.

It buzzed incessantly on the coffee table, the harsh vibrations shattering the quiet calm of the evening. San tried to ignore it at first, telling himself that whatever it was could wait, but the sound was relentless. Wooyoung's gaze flicked toward the phone, a small frown forming on his lips as the notifications piled up.

"You can check it if you need to," Wooyoung said softly, his voice gentle, but San shook his head.

"I'm fine," San muttered, pulling the blanket tighter around himself, trying to focus on the movie.

But the buzzing didn't stop. And with each vibration, San's chest tightened a little more. He knew who it was. He had been dreading this moment ever since his ex had shown up at the restaurant, and now it seemed like the past had finally caught up with him.

With a shaky hand, San reached for his phone, the light from the screen casting an eerie glow on his face as he unlocked it. The sight that greeted him made his stomach drop—text after text, all from his ex.

You're still the same weak mess, San.

You think you've changed? You're pathetic.

I don't know what you see in that guy, but trust me, he's going to leave you like everyone else.

San's fingers trembled as he scrolled through the messages, each one more cutting than the last. His ex was always good at this—finding just the right words to dig into San's deepest insecurities, making him feel small, making him question everything.

The room seemed to close in on him, the movie fading into the background as the weight of the texts bore down on his chest. He felt himself spiraling, the old doubts creeping in like poison, threatening to undo all the progress he had made.

Then, amid the storm of hurtful words, something flickered at the edges of his mind—Wooyoung's voice. Gentle. Reassuring. A reminder that San wasn't alone anymore.

I'm worth more than this, San told himself, gripping the phone tightly. I don't deserve this. I'm not who he says I am.

But even as he tried to remind himself, the weight of his ex's words pressed down harder, his confidence crumbling under the barrage. And just when San thought he couldn't handle it anymore, the phone buzzed again—this time, with a call.

His ex's name flashed on the screen, the familiar sting of dread clawing at San's chest. He froze, staring at the phone in his hand, unsure of what to do. His thumb hovered over the screen, and before he could stop himself, he answered.

"Hello?" San's voice was small, barely above a whisper.

"San." His ex's voice was sharp, laced with condescension. "I see you've been ignoring my texts. That's not very smart of you."

San's heart pounded in his chest, his breath catching in his throat. The familiar fear began to creep in, but before he could say anything, Wooyoung was there.

"San?" Wooyoung's voice was gentle but firm, his eyes full of concern as he reached out and gently took the phone from San's trembling hand. "Let me handle this."

San hesitated, the fear still gripping him, but there was something in Wooyoung's eyes—something steady and sure—that made him nod, handing the phone over without protest.

Wooyoung pressed the phone to his ear, his expression hardening as he spoke. "Hey. This is Wooyoung."

There was a pause on the other end, and then San could faintly hear his ex's voice, sharp and angry. But Wooyoung didn't flinch.

"I don't know who you think you are," Wooyoung continued, his tone calm but full of steel, "but you're not going to talk to San like that anymore. You don't get to have that right, or that kind of power over him. Not now, not ever again."

San's chest tightened as he watched Wooyoung, a mix of fear and awe swirling inside him. No one had ever stood up for him like this, and seeing Wooyoung calmly, confidently telling off his ex—it felt like a lifeline.

"He's not coming back to you," Wooyoung said firmly, his voice unwavering. "And if you ever contact him again, I'll make sure you regret it. Do you understand?"

There was another pause, followed by more angry muttering on the other end, but Wooyoung didn't waver. Instead, he met San's gaze, his expression softening just a little as he spoke the final words.

"Leave him alone."

And with that, Wooyoung hung up the phone, the sharp click of the call ending breaking the silence that had settled over the room.

San sat there, frozen, his heart pounding in his chest as the weight of what had just happened began to sink in. Wooyoung handed the phone back to him, his expression soft but serious.

"You don't have to do this alone, San," Wooyoung said quietly. "He doesn't get to control you anymore. He's a sad insecure man, and that isn't your problem. He doesn't get to try to make it your problem."

San stared down at the phone in his hands, the final remnants of his ex's manipulation still lingering like a shadow. But then, slowly, he looked up at Wooyoung—the man who had just stood up for him, the man who had shown him more love and care than he had ever thought possible—and something inside him shifted.

Wooyoung was right. He didn't have to carry his ex's garbage. He didn't have to feel alone.

With a deep breath, San opened the settings on his phone, his fingers shaking slightly as he navigated to his ex's contact information. He hesitated for a moment, the old fear still whispering at the edges of his mind, but then he pressed the button.

*Block Contact.*

It was done. His ex was finally out of his life, at least in this way.

San let out a long, shaky breath, the tension in his chest beginning to ease as he set the phone down. He felt lighter somehow, like a weight had been lifted, though there was still a part of him that feared what might come next.

But then Wooyoung's arms were around him, pulling him into a warm embrace, and all those fears began to fade. San leaned into him, resting his head on Wooyoung's chest, his heart still racing but in a different way now—one that was full of hope.

"You did it," Wooyoung whispered, his voice full of quiet pride. "You're free of him."

San closed his eyes, letting the warmth of Wooyoung's embrace wash over him, and he began to let himself believe it.

He was free. And with Wooyoung by his side, he knew that freedom was something he could hold onto.

No more running. No more fear.

Just love.