When You Feel It Too

Unveiling the Truth

It felt like the air between San and me had thickened, pressing in on us from all sides. 

The café, once a quiet refuge, now felt too small, too suffocating. 

He stood across from me, and despite the distance between us, the weight of the tension was undeniable.

San had said it—he wasn't okay. 

And the way he looked at me, the unspoken fear in his eyes, only deepened my unease. 

What were we doing? 

Was this connection—this bond—something we were supposed to embrace, or was it slowly suffocating us without us even realizing it?

I stepped closer, my foot still aching from his presence, but this time, the pain was different.

 It wasn't the sharp, sudden jolt we'd felt at the beginning. 

It was a low, constant throb that seemed to match the pounding in my chest.

"San..." I started, my voice shaky despite my best efforts to keep it steady. "What do you mean, you're not okay?"

He shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting to the window before returning to mine. 

There was something he wasn't saying, something lingering in his gaze that made my stomach churn. 

I couldn't figure it out, but I felt like we were on the edge of a cliff, and one wrong step would send us tumbling.

"I've been dealing with this thing for years," San muttered, his hands running through his hair, his frustration spilling out in waves. "This... connection. The pain. It's been a part of my life for so long, but I never thought I'd meet anyone who actually felt it too. I didn't think it was real, not like this." He sighed, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of it all had finally broken through his walls.

"You're telling me that this has been happening to you... all this time?" I asked, my voice almost a whisper. 

I was struggling to comprehend what he was saying. 

The idea that he'd been carrying this on his own, without anyone else to share it with, made something inside me tighten with empathy.

"Yeah," San answered, looking me dead in the eye. "I didn't know why it was happening. At first, I thought it was just me, just... my brain playing tricks on me. But then it kept happening. And it wasn't just physical pain—it was everything. Every time I was close to someone, I'd feel their emotions, their pain, their fear... but never like this. Not with you."

The rawness in his voice stirred something deep within me. 

The connection we shared wasn't just physical. It was deeper, more emotional, more primal. 

It was like we could feel each other's very souls reaching out to one another, regardless of how much we fought it. 

And I had been fighting it. I had been trying to push it away, unsure of what it meant, unsure of us.

"So, you've been feeling all of this alone?" I asked, my voice thick with disbelief. "You never talked to anyone about it?"

San laughed bitterly, but there was no humor in it. "Who could I talk to? Who would believe me? You're the first person who's ever felt the same thing. I've been running from it, hiding it for years, thinking I was crazy. And now I'm... I'm here, with you. And I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

His words hit me harder than I expected. 

I knew, deep down, that this wasn't just about shared pain anymore. 

It was about us—about two people bound together by something that neither of us could control, and neither of us truly understood.

"I don't know if I can handle this, San," I admitted, my voice trembling. "I mean, what are we supposed to do with this? You feel it, I feel it... what if we're just dragging each other down?"

For the first time since I met him, San looked vulnerable. 

There was no bravado, no deflection. 

Just a raw, human fear that I recognized all too well.

"I don't know," he said quietly, looking down at the table between us. "But I think we need to figure it out together. Maybe... maybe it's not about avoiding it. Maybe it's about facing it. Together."

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. 

I couldn't deny that part of me wanted to pull away, to cut this connection off before it could grow into something I couldn't control. 

But another part of me—something deeper—wanted to hold on. 

Because despite the pain, the fear, there was something undeniable between us.

"You're right," I said, my voice steadier now, though my heart was still beating like a drum in my chest. "We can't keep running from it."

San finally looked up at me, his eyes locking with mine. 

There was an understanding between us now, an unspoken agreement that whatever this was, whatever we were becoming, we would face it together.

But there was still so much we didn't know. 

So much we hadn't even begun to understand.

"I don't know what this is, Wooyoung," San said softly, his gaze never leaving mine. "But I'm not ready to walk away from it. From you."

His words settled into me like an anchor, holding me in place. 

I wasn't ready to walk away either.

 Despite everything, despite the fear, I knew that this connection—this thing between us—was something I couldn't ignore.

But at that moment, I also knew one thing for sure: whatever this was, it was only just beginning.