Lines Crossed (SanSang)

35

San lay down, staring at the ceiling, wondering how he'd let everything slip away. Wondering if there had been a way to keep Yeosang close without betraying everything he'd been raised to believe. It was all too complicated, all tangled with obligations he didn't fully understand and love he hadn't anticipated.

The days that followed were hollow, each one feeling like a dull echo of the last. San went through the motions, feeling the sharp pain of seeing Yeosang across campus, watching him with Woo, who threw San a cold glare every time their paths crossed. He knew he deserved it, knew he'd messed everything up, but he couldn't shake the guilt, the feeling that he'd failed Yeosang in the worst way.

Finally, one evening, as he sat alone, his phone buzzed with a new message. He opened it hesitantly, hoping for some distraction. But his heart clenched when he saw Woo's name. The message was brief, almost clipped.

"You should leave him alone, San. He's finally starting to get over you."

San exhaled slowly, his hand tightening around the phone. He wanted to respond, to ask Woo if Yeosang was okay, if he was happy. But he knew he had no right to ask, no right to make things harder for him.

The next morning, he packed up his things and headed home to Namhae, needing to put distance between himself and the life he could no longer have. As he watched the city fade in the distance, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever be able to fill the emptiness Yeosang had left behind.

Back in Namhae, life slowed to a numbing routine for San. He went through each day in an autopilot haze, helping his parents, meeting expectations, and fulfilling every duty asked of him. Yet, nothing he did could silence the ache left by Yeosang. Every quiet moment, every pause, every time he tried to rest—his mind slipped back to him, to the warmth of his laughter, the subtle look he'd give when he was amused but too shy to admit it. San's heart was heavy with memories, all tinged by the painful knowledge that he'd pushed away the one person who felt like home.

Days passed, turning into weeks, and still, no word from Yeosang. San tried to tell himself it was better this way—that by staying away, he was letting Yeosang heal. But that thought only deepened the emptiness, the thought that Yeosang's life was now moving forward without him.

One evening, as San sat by the water near his family's house, the quiet waves lapping against the shore, he found himself finally able to admit the truth: he was still in love with Yeosang. He was in love with him in a way that frightened him because he couldn't just turn it off or pretend it wasn't there. His feelings were real and raw, untouched by any of the expectations he was trying so hard to uphold.

For the first time since he'd left, San pulled out his phone and stared at Yeosang's contact. He hovered his finger over the call button, his heart pounding with an urgency he hadn't felt in so long. But every time he tried to press it, a wave of doubt surged over him, reminding him of everything that kept them apart. How could he call just to pull Yeosang back into a situation that could only hurt them both?

San hesitated, as he stared at Yeosang's name on his screen. He'd replayed this moment in his head countless times, always doubting if he could actually go through with it. But tonight, the ache in his chest felt heavier than ever, and he couldn't bear the silence any longer. Bracing himself, he tapped the button and listened to the dial tone, each ring making his heart beat harder.

After several rings, he let out a defeated sigh, assuming Yeosang wouldn't answer. But just as he was about to hang up, there was a soft click on the other end.

"Hello?" Yeosang's familiar voice came through, sounding hesitant but clear.

San froze, his breath catching as he struggled to find words. "Yeo... I thought you... I thought you'd really deleted my number. Or maybe blocked me," he stammered, relief and surprise mingling in his voice.

There was a short pause before Yeosang replied, voice steady but soft. "I did delete it. But... I recently added it again. From memory."

San's heart skipped. "Why?"

"I... I don't know," Yeosang murmured, his voice distant.

A silence settled between them, heavy and filled with the words both were too afraid to say. After a few moments, Yeosang broke it, his tone calm but distant. "Why did you call, San?"

San hesitated, almost regretting dialing in the first place, but the sound of Yeosang's voice, familiar and grounding, pulled him in. "I wanted to hear your voice," he admitted quietly. "I wanted to know how you're doing."

Another pause, longer this time, and then Yeosang asked, "Where are you? What about your studies?"

San swallowed, glancing at the familiar surroundings of Namhae. "I... put them on hold for now. I had to come to Namhae for some time," he lied, hoping his voice didn't betray the truth.

"Oh." Yeosang's voice was barely audible, and San sensed the weight of disappointment behind it. He could picture Yeosang's expression: that guarded look he always wore when he was trying to hide his feelings.

"I know it sounds sudden," San continued, grasping for anything to explain himself, to bridge the widening gap between them. "I just... things got complicated, and I thought a break would help."

Yeosang gave a soft hum, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "I see."

San took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Yeosang... I know I hurt you," he started, voice almost a whisper. "I should've been honest from the start. I wanted to be, but I was terrified."

Yeosang's silence on the other end was unnerving, but San forced himself to keep going, afraid that any hesitation would stop him altogether. "The engagement... it wasn't something I wanted. It was arranged by my family, and I was cornered into it. I didn't know how to tell you, didn't know how to stop it." He sighed, frustration boiling beneath the surface. "But none of that... none of it had anything to do with how I felt about you."

There was a brief pause, and then Yeosang's voice came through, soft yet heavy. "Then why, San? Why didn't you tell me sooner? You let me think it was all some sort of game. That I was just... that we were just nothing."

San's chest tightened. "I was scared," he admitted, voice shaky. "I thought if I distanced myself, if I acted like it didn't mean anything, maybe it wouldn't hurt as much when it all fell apart. For you... and for me."

Yeosang let out a soft, bitter laugh, one that stung more than any words could. "Well, you failed. Because it hurt, San. It hurt like hell."

San clutched his phone tighter, voice breaking. "I know. And I'm so sorry, Yeosang. I wish... I wish I could undo everything, handle it all differently." He hesitated, swallowing hard. "But I just needed you to know that what we had—it was real. It was never a game."

A long pause hung in the air, and San could almost picture Yeosang on the other end, eyes downcast, wrestling with the pain San had caused. When Yeosang spoke again, his voice was soft, guarded but vulnerable "So... what now? Are you going to tell your father? Are you going to end the engagement?"

San hesitated, the words catching in his throat. "I... I can't tell him, Yeosang. If he knew I was... if he knew I was gay, or bi- or i dont know into you- he'd—he'd disown me. Or worse."

A tense silence filled the space between them. Yeosang stayed quiet, and San could practically feel the disappointment building on the other end. Desperately, he added, "Yeosang, please. Say something."

Yeosang sighed again, softer this time, but with a sharpness that cut deep. "Why did you even bother calling, San? If you're not willing to do anything—no results, no real effort—why are you dragging this out?"

Before San could answer, he heard the click of the line going dead.