Whispers of Desire || Woosan🔞

31: Storm

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            ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

The car hummed softly beneath them as the city stretched by in blurred streaks of neon and fading daylight. Wooyoung sat quietly in the passenger seat, his chin resting against the palm of his hand, staring absently through the tinted window. The streets, crowded as always, felt strangely distant. Every honk, every rush of footsteps on the sidewalks. it all seemed muffled, like his mind had drawn a curtain over the outside world.

It had been three months. Three long, winding, heavy months since San had disappeared into silence.

Wooyoung’s lips pressed together at the thought, a familiar ache tightening in his chest. He tilted his head toward Yeonjun, who was driving beside him with the calm ease of someone who had accepted this rhythm of life.

Yeonjun’s hand rested loosely on the steering wheel, his profile illuminated by the streetlights they passed. There was comfort in the steadiness of his presence, the way he carried himself as though nothing could truly shake him.

And yet Wooyoung knew. He had seen Yeonjun’s eyes too many times, sharp, alert, constantly scanning for danger even in the most mundane of moments. That vigilance had become their routine, their shared existence.

Three months ago, Wooyoung never would have thought this would be his life: cabs instead of San’s sleek black cars, shadowed alleys avoided, glances exchanged with strangers weighed carefully, and visits to an old man whose presence had somehow become the most unexpected anchor in his storm.

He let out a slow breath, fogging the cool window glass before him.

“Thinking too hard again?” Yeonjun’s voice cut into the quiet, warm but tinged with a knowing edge.

Wooyoung blinked, pulling himself back to the car, to the here and now. He gave a small smile. “You can always tell, huh?”

“Always,” Yeonjun replied simply, his lips curving into a faint grin as his eyes flicked toward him for a brief second. “You get this look… like you’re trying to solve the world’s mysteries all at once.”

Wooyoung chuckled softly, though it faded almost as quickly as it came. “I was just… thinking about how much has changed.”

His voice was quieter now, threaded with something raw. He shifted in his seat, folding his arms lightly over his chest as if shielding himself from the weight of his own thoughts.

“The old man?” Yeonjun asked, though he already knew the answer.

Wooyoung nodded slowly. “Yeah. Him. At first, it was terrifying, you know? Being pulled away like that, blindfolded, told to follow without explanation… I thought that was it. I thought I’d never see the sun again. But now…” He paused, eyes unfocusing as memories flickered wrinkled doe eyes, a soft blink of reassurance, the calm way the man would offer him tea instead of answers.

“Now it feels… different. Like he isn’t a threat at all. More like… someone I can lean on. Someone who listens.” His voice softened, almost childlike in its confession.

Yeonjun’s grip on the steering wheel tightened just slightly, the movement subtle but not lost on Wooyoung. He turned his head, offering a weak smile. “And you don’t say much about him. You just… listen. That’s why I go back, I think. It’s easy.”

Yeonjun didn’t answer right away. His jaw worked as though he were chewing on words that couldn’t be spoken. He thought of San’s command, the sharp warning in his tone: “Don’t tell him. Not yet.”

So, instead, Yeonjun only said, “Sometimes easy is good.”

Silence settled again, but it wasn’t heavy—it was thoughtful. Wooyoung leaned his head back against the seat, watching as the stars began to peek through the evening sky above the towering skyline.

“Do you ever wonder,” Wooyoung began after a moment, “what life would have been like if things hadn’t… gone this way?”

Yeonjun arched a brow. “What do you mean?”

“If San never…” His voice faltered, the name itself sparking a dull ache. He swallowed, pressing on. “If San never left that day,"

The words hung fragile in the space between them.

Yeonjun inhaled deeply, then let out a quiet laugh that wasn’t entirely amused.

“You wouldn’t be you, Wooyoung. At least, not the you sitting here right now. Life doesn’t really work with ‘what ifs.’ It only gives us the now. And right now…” He flicked Wooyoung’s forehead gently, earning a small yelp. “…you’re still here. You’re stronger than you think.”

Wooyoung pouted, rubbing his forehead, but the corners of his lips curved upward. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

The car ride stretched on, and Wooyoung let his mind drift further. To Felix and Jisung.

The hollow pang in his chest deepened at the thought of them. Their departure had been bittersweet.

Japan was an opportunity they couldn’t pass up, and Wooyoung had cheered them on, hugging them tight at the airport, smiling until his cheeks ached.

But when their flight disappeared into the clouds, he had cried harder than he’d ever let anyone see.

He still remembered Jisung’s shaky laugh, the way his best friend clung to him as if afraid he’d fall apart. “Call me every day, idiot. I don’t care if it’s three in the morning. Just call.”

And Felix, with his soft voice and hopeful eyes, whispering, “We’ll visit. Promise. You’re not losing us.”

It had felt like losing a piece of himself anyway.

Now, his calls with them were lifelines. They shared silly updates, late-night ramblings, reassurances that no matter the distance, their bond would never fray. But still… the apartment felt emptier. His days felt quieter. And his heart… lonelier.

Yeonjun had filled that void without him asking, stepping into the empty spaces with quiet patience, with laughter when Wooyoung couldn’t find his own.

Sometimes, Wooyoung caught himself wondering how much of his strength was truly his and how much was borrowed from Yeonjun’s steady presence.

He glanced at him now, the soft glow of the dashboard lighting up Yeonjun’s features. There was something unreadable there, something hidden beneath the ease of his smile. But Wooyoung didn’t press. He never did.

Instead, he sighed and murmured, “I’m glad you’re here, Yeonjun.”

Yeonjun’s fingers flexed on the steering wheel, and his eyes flicked briefly to Wooyoung, something unspoken burning in their depths. But all he said was, “Always, Woo.”

And as Wooyoung leaned his head against the cool glass once more, he couldn’t help but wonder if this fragile peace would last… or if it was only the calm before the storm.