Lines Crossed (SanSang)

41

San stared at the screen, dread pooling in his stomach as he opened the message.

"We need to talk. You've avoided this long enough. Come home tonight."

Yeosang noticed San's stiff posture and stood up, moving closer. "What is it?" he asked softly, concern etched on his face.

San shoved the phone back into his pocket, forcing a shaky smile. "It's nothing. Just my dad being... himself...He wants to meet."

Yeosang didn't buy it, but he didn't push. "You don't have to go if you're not ready," he said, his voice calm but firm.

San ran a hand through his hair, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "That's the thing—I don't think I'll ever be ready. But avoiding him forever isn't an option either."

Wooyoung, now sitting up on the bed, chimed in with his usual bluntness. "If he's just going to yell and guilt-trip you, what's even the point? He's already made it clear he doesn't respect you or your choices."

San sighed heavily, leaning against the wall. "It's not that simple. He's... my dad. He won't stop until I face him. And if I don't show up, it'll only make things worse."

Yeosang reached out, placing a gentle hand on San's arm. "Whatever happens, you don't have to go through it alone. Remember that."

San nodded, grateful but still conflicted. He looked at Yeosang, his heart aching at the thought of dragging him into the chaos of his family's disapproval.

"I'll figure it out," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

The tension in the room hung thick, until Wooyoung—ever the mood-lifter—popped another piece of popcorn into his mouth and quipped, "Well, just know that if he disowns you, you can crash on Yeosang's couch. Or mine, but I charge rent."

The comment drew a small laugh from Yeosang, but San couldn't bring himself to smile. His mind was already miles away, imagining the confrontation waiting for him at home.

Yeosang frowned, his worry evident. "Are you going to go?"

San shook his head slowly, then looked at his phone, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He knew he wasn't ready to face his father, not yet. His mind was still a tangle of emotions, and he didn't trust himself to keep calm if the conversation went the way he feared.

After a deep breath, San began typing.

"I can't tonight. Let's meet in a week."

He stared at the words for a long moment before hitting send.

The message delivered instantly, but there was no reply. San exhaled shakily and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

"What did you say?" Yeosang asked gently.

"I asked for time," San murmured. "A week. I just... I can't do this tonight."

Yeosang nodded, relief flickering across his face. "Good. You shouldn't go when you're not ready."

San gave a small, tired smile. "I'll never be ready for this, but at least now I have time to figure out what I want to say."

Wooyoung, sprawled on Yeosang's bed, raised an eyebrow. "A week? That's smart, I guess. But you better not chicken out when the time comes. You've gotta stand your ground, San. Show him you're serious."

San nodded, his determination slowly building. "I will. I promise."

The phone buzzed in his pocket, making his heart skip a beat. He pulled it out, only to see it was a notification from a group chat. Nothing from his father.