A Place to Belong - Woosan

{ 24 - Doubts and Distance }

San hadn't meant to pull away. Not consciously, anyway. Only in the days following that morning at Wooyoung's apartment, something in him recoiled—like his body knew the risk before his mind did.

His responses to texts became slower, not intentionally, but because he hesitated before sending each one. What should have been an easy, thoughtless exchange became a second-guessing spiral. If he responded too quickly, would Wooyoung expect more? If he took too long, would it seem like he didn't care?

The calls, when they happened, were shorter. The effortless rhythm between them dulled into something more measured, more careful. Wooyoung noticed. Of course, he did.

San could feel the shift whenever they were together—Wooyoung was still warm, still teasing, but there was something else beneath the surface now. A quiet awareness. Waiting. Wooyoung wasn't the type to let things fester. He would let San have his space for a while, but not forever. He was sure San could already sense the inevitable conversation creeping closer.

It happened on a drizzly afternoon, the kind that made the city feel quieter, more intimate. San had agreed to meet Wooyoung for coffee, though part of him regretted it the moment he stepped inside the café.

Wooyoung was already there, sitting by the window, absently stirring his drink. He looked up the second San entered, and his face lit up—just for a moment, before he schooled it into something more neutral.

San hesitated before walking over, his gut twisting with something close to guilt.

"Hey," he greeted, sliding into the chair across from Wooyoung.

"Hey." Wooyoung studied him, his fingers still toying with the spoon. "You've been busy?"

San nodded, reaching for his coffee, though he barely tasted it when he took a sip. "Yeah. Work's been a lot."

Wooyoung hummed, his gaze unwavering. "Right." He let the word hang there, tapping the spoon against the rim of his mug before setting it down. "San, what's going on?"

San stiffened. "What do you mean?"

Wooyoung's brows lifted, unimpressed. "Come on. You know exactly what I mean." He leaned forward slightly, voice quieter but firm. "You're pulling away. I can feel it. And I don't—" He exhaled, running a hand through his hair before meeting San's eyes again. "I don't want to make this weird if it doesn't need to be. But I need to know. Are you running?"

San opened his mouth, but no words came out. His throat felt tight, his chest heavier than it had that morning in Wooyoung's kitchen. He wanted to give an answer, to reassure Wooyoung, but the truth was, he didn't know.

Wooyoung saw the uncertainty and fear in his demeanor. His face didn't change much, but something in his eyes dimmed, just a little. A quiet hurt settling there, even as he nodded like he understood.

"Okay," Wooyoung said, leaning back in his chair. He didn't press further, didn't push. That was almost worse.

San stared at his coffee, stomach twisting, but the words wouldn't come. He wished he could explain it, that he could find the right way to say, It's not you. It's me, and I don't know how to fix it.

Yet silence stretched between them, the weight of unspoken things pressing in from all sides.

Finally, Wooyoung exhaled, pushing his mug away slightly. "I don't want to be another thing that makes you feel trapped, San." His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it, something raw just beneath the surface. "I also can't stand here waiting for you to decide if I matter, it hurts too much.."

San's fingers clenched around his cup, heart pounding. "That's not—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "That's not what this is."

Wooyoung gave a small, sad smile. "Then what is it?"

San had nothing. No answer that wouldn't sound like an excuse.

The worst part was, Wooyoung didn't even look angry. He just looked tired and sad. San felt very guilty for putting that expression on his face.

"I'm falling for you, San." Wooyoung's voice was quiet, but sure. " You pulling back like this, well, it's starting to feel like that's going to hurt."

San inhaled sharply, feeling like the ground had just shifted beneath him. But before he could say anything, Wooyoung was already reaching for his jacket.

"I think we should take some time," Wooyoung continued, standing. His expression was still soft, but his posture was tense, like he was holding himself together. His eyes, shiny now with unshed tears. "Figure out what this is. What you want."

San nodded, because what else could he do?

He watched Wooyoung leave the café, his heart pounding against his ribs, his hands still curled around a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold.

He was afraid, and was again making a decision based on fear. San felt like he was losing something before he even had the chance to claim it. What if he decided he wanted it badly enough to fight for it. The thought gave him chills, but wasn't Wooyoung worth it?