implausible - woosan

chapter thirty two

i am the antichrist to you
fallen from the sky with grace
into yours arms race

wooyoung san

26.08.17

the first thing san notices upon waking is the odd sense of comfortability surrounding his drowsy state. his head is resting atop another person's body closely, the soft rise and fall of a chest signifying a sleeping state.

and he'd know that body anywhere, of course, but it's so hard to grasp reality in this moment. almost impossible to believe that he really is in the arms of jung wooyoung, the blonde boy's body curving protectively around him.

san remembers having woken from another nightmare, although he doesn't remember what it had been about. he does remember wooyoung being there, though, pulling him out.

he shifts ever so slightly, not wanting to disturb the sleeping male who's arms encircle san's smaller frame. tucked into wooyoung embrace, there's a rare feeling of safeness that san can't quite comprehend. he knows it won't - can't - last for much longer, but selfishly wants to savor it nonetheless.wooyoung's a miracle san doesn't deserve.

not sure if he's breathing, the older feels wooyoung begin to rub slow, rhythmic circles onto his back while he lies there, probably hardly realizing it himself. sunlight casts its revealing rays onto the bed, and san squints at the new brightness.

raising his head off of wooyoung's chest, he shifts again, hoping the boy will wake up and explain the situation. letting him sleep any longer like this would be too greedy. san's already enjoying their position more than he should be, and feels guilty enough about that.

"ah, are you awake?" wooyoung mumbles sleepily, sitting up a little without letting go of san's deathly still body. "good morning..."

he removes his hand from its resting place on the other's chest, watching as wooyoung yawns and blinks a few times. his blonde hair is bedhead messy, the bright glossiness of his blue eyes accentuated by the dark rings beneath them. the large grey t-shirt adorning his frame is rumpled and creased at the front. san's heart aches; it doesn't look like the boy had slept very well.

he releases a sleepy giggle, and san reddens, realizing he's been staring up at him for a second too long. "i probably look like a mess, right?"

san swallows, shaking his head quickly. "n-no." he stutters, eyes fluttering around the room. "i'm the mess."

it doesn't look much different to when he'd fallen asleep, except for wooyoung's white cane lying on the floor near to the door. the duvet is also more deranged than he remembers, the sheets smelling faintly of salt. san himself appears similarly disheveled, when he looks at himself.

his own hair is sticking in odd directions, his t-shirt ridden up and his whole appearance disordered. anyone who sees them right now would be none the wiser to think something very different had occurred here.

"so," wooyoung starts softly, still sounding groggy. "do you want to talk about last night?"

san doesn't understand why he's being so kind and gentle with him. treating him like some vulnerable animal when it should be the other way around. when he doesn't deserve it. he meets wooyoung's tender gaze with confusion, examining it carefully to deduct his intentions.