San sat at his desk, staring at the darkened screen of his phone. The world outside his window was quiet, the hum of the city almost distant enough to feel like a memory. He could almost hear Wooyoung's voice in his mind, teasing him about how often he checked his messages.
A sigh slipped from his lips, but his hand hovered over the phone.He hadn't texted him in weeks, and each time he thought about reaching out, doubt stopped him.
The truth was, something had changed. Between them. Between 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 and the version of himself that used to laugh at the stupidest things with Wooyoung, stay up late talking about everything and nothing. The friendship that had once been so effortless was now strained with silence.
And then there was the feeling that San couldn't shake.
The way his heart would beat faster every time Wooyoung smiled, the way his hands would clam up whenever their fingers brushed just a little too closely. His feelings had always been there, but he'd buried them under the weight of his own fear.
"𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐩, 𝐒𝐚𝐧" he muttered to himself, but his eyes kept drifting to the old notebook in his drawer.
He'd written so much in that notebook - about everything, but mostly about 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠. In some of the pages, there were silly notes, scribbled lyrics, doodles. In others, there were confessions San had never dared to voice. Like the one he'd written late one night when they were sitting together, sharing a blanket, talking about dreams and the future. "𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬." San smiled faintly at the memory. Wooyoung had laughed then, pushing him playfully. "Ah, come on, that's too much, even for you. I'm not that special." But he was, San thought. He 𝐰𝐚𝐬 that special.
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