My girlfriend's brother | woosan [rewritten]

// 001 [rewritten]

Wooyoung

"Can you please shut up." Wooyoung rolled his eyes.

It was a Friday night, starless and clouded with teenagers looking for freedom in all the possible ways - loud music, exploring touches, snuck in alcohol and furtive smoking. Wooyoung was just another one of those, looking for stress relief in whatever way he could find it - even if showing up at a house party he wasn't invited to was the way to do it.

There was this girl, long brown hair and too much confidence, who stared up at him with offence drawn in her eyes as she got interrupted, her high pitched voice dying up in her throat as she got cut during her chase. The lack of manners in Wooyoung's tone successfully made her blabbering stop, but instead of a satisfied smile, he didn't sport any expression in his face, his piercing eyes low and hazy as he tried, and succeeded at outing his disinterest in whatever she thought was worth sharing with a stranger.

"I beg your pardon?" The girl looked confused for a second, eyebrows raising in surprise. "Are you always this rude?" She asked with a frown adorning her pretty face; not used to earning such a cold reaction from boys.

"Yeah." Wooyoung shrugged, not particularly searching for a reason to try and be sociable. His eyebrows mimicked hers, closing off his face as he racked his brain to understand why she walked up to him in the first place, when he made his best job to appear invisible and unapproachable in a corner of this stranger's house.

"Oh my God, you're such a jerk." Her brown locks bounced with the shake of her head, scoffing. "I was trying to be nice. Like, you're nothing special, so you should've just taken the opportunity to talk to me and feel lucky about it. I mean-"

"You done?" Wooyoung cut her off again, leg falling from where it was supported on the wall, his weight shifting forward as he seriously considered simply walking away, his hand lightly scratching his temple as he looked around, hoping to find a known face along the many others he didn't trust. He quietly stuck with the notion that following his instincts in social interactions usually didn't turn out the way he hoped, his sharp tone and mean eyes weren't always allowed in the presence of strangers, he was used to keeping his guard up, used to being the troubled boy from the neighborhood, severally misinterpreted and handed straight into conflicts. Even if that was just his coping mechanism, the only way he knew to how to mask his own struggles and hide his emotions.

"Ugh. Fuck you." The girl finally gave up on him, walking off. Only then a smirk found his to his lips, his eyes glinting in amusement.

"Ugh. Fuck you." He mimicked her sassy head movements, uncontainable once he found himself alone again. Comfortable.

A dark blue flannel shirt swung around his torso, covering his skin from any unwanted touch, but unable to contain the slight shivering that made its way up from his spine, spreading all the way to his hands. Wooyoung knew this sensation unfortunately well, his tell tale sign of his pressure dropping. The first few times he felt it were scary, but now he knew what to do. He knew what to expect, how to salvage his body from shutting down on him, and he knew he had caused it in the first place. Not caring about consequences as long as he could smoke his way to a foggy brain and less worries.

He didn't even bat an eye as he convinced himself to explore the house and find the kitchen, dodging the intoxicated people dancing in the process. Quickly glancing away when his eyes fell on couples making out, his steps as precise as he could muster.

The kitchen was empty and peaceful, opposed to the madness around the rest of the house. It was clear and regular looking, light kept on and taking away from the drunken feel the darkness brought. As Wooyoung shuffled around it, looking for anything edible, he could hear the distant laughter and unintelligible beats of the song being blasted in the living room, his breathing calmer without the self-imposed social pressure of looking like he belonged. He didn't. But cared enough to wish he did.