soft - woosan

chapter 03

wooyoung san

"-and then he said i was hot." san exclaimed to yeosang on the other side of the phone, who gasped dramatically. "and he kept looking at me! making me uncomfortable and shit, fucking asshole."

"dude, he's not an asshole for looking at you." yeosang's tired reply came shortly.

"well he is, because i did not give him the right." scoffing, he was sprawled comically on his side, head resting on a hand while his fingers twisted his faded green (now more blonde) hair.

a laugh sounded warmly to his ear. "you didn't give the right? apologies, mr. choi, does he have to sign a permission slip?"

"no! just, ugh- i don't know. i didn't like the way he kept staring." the line went quiet for a moment. "yeosang? did you fall asleep?"

"yes, you have bored me to slumber, san," followed by a yawn.

"okay. well, goodnight then." san hung up, feeling bad and selfish for keeping his friend up.

"just you and me, buddy." he whispered to shiber, hugging the plushie close to his chest and staring mindlessly at the constellations projected onto the ceiling above his bed.

and just as he began to think his eyes were closing and he might get some sleep, he was interrupted by the sound of his bedroom door opening and hitting the wall with a low thud.

turning in surprise, he was greeted by an unmistakably drunk male body slouched against the door frame, but it was too dark to make out his face.

"um, hi?" san practically squeaked, annoyed as well as a bit afraid of a stranger entering his room.

the figure looked directly at him, as if shocked the room was inhabited. "yo."

"sorry, this room is off limits-" san started, but the guy shuffled over to his bed, face planting on it immediately. 

"wooyoung?" the male raised his heavy head, his pale purple hair falling in eyes that definitely belonged to none other than jung wooyoung.

"oh. it's you." he didn't sound disappointed, just sort of matter of fact with no emotion what so ever.

"y-yeah," fuck, stop stuttering, "can you please, um, l-leave?" he wondered if he sounded half as stupid as he felt.

"why should i do that?" wooyoung smirked, gazing up at san who stood over him awkwardly.

"b-because. this is my room. and-" uninterested in his reasoning, wooyoung sat and stretched his arms before shushing san with a finger to his lips.

"i won't bother you, little choi. i just want some quiet."

"well, funnily enough, so do i, but you're sort of ruining that." san scoffed, dodging away from the tingle of the brush of wooyoung's finger to his chapped lips.

"so? go to sleep. i'll shut up." hah. sleep, funny joke.

for some reason he figured he would regret later on, he decided to tell wooyoung about his predicament. he didn't know why, but he just felt so desperate to talk to someone other than his friends, who tried so hard to understand but san felt they weren't trying hard enough. it was selfish and stupid of him, but he felt that they brushed him off when he told them, and never really listened when he answered their constant 'are you okays'. (this was not true, but he was blinded by the anxiety of them not wanting to know because he knew he was waste of space and didn't know why they put up with him.)

"i can't." he stated nonchalantly, breaking the short silence.

"you can't what?" wooyoung raised an eyebrow, sitting on the end of his bed again.