Masked Secrets |Woosan|

4.

WY

"What... what happened to you?"

Wooyoung stumbled back at the sound of San's voice. The events of the night were definitely catching up to him, - the adrenaline gone -  and he leaned back against the doorway, only wishing for the security of his bed.

San was sitting on the couch. His gaze lingered on the left side of Wooyoung's face, and his eyes were blown wide.

"You're... awake now?" Wooyoung asked. San reached for a remote and muted the TV. His hands were shaking.

"Hey, hey," Wooyoung staggered over to the couch and sat next to him. On the TV, he caught a glimpse of the wreckage he had left behind in the bar. He winced and focused on San instead.

"Yeah, I'm awake," San said. "I'd probably be asleep if you answered my fucking texts."

"Oh," Wooyoung said. "I'm sorry. My phone's been on silent all night."

"I figured." San was still staring at his face. "You..." He took a deep breath. "I think I'm going to be sick," he gasped out. "What the fuck happened to you."

Did my face bruise that bad? Wooyoung thought.

"Oh this? This is nothing," he laughed, trying to make San feel better. "I just... fell."

"Oh my god, Wooyoung. This isn't time for jokes"

So it is that bad.

Wooyoung patted the side of his jaw, biting back a wince. "Trust me, it probably looks worse than it feels. Don't worry about it. It'll be gone by morning."

San stared at him. His face was set in a dumbstruck expression. "It'll be... gone by morning? Wooyoung, can you hear yourself right now?"

San stuck his pointer finger under Wooyoung's chin, and he tilted his head to the side. Despite the situation, Wooyoung couldn't help but feel things with San's full attention on him.

"Stay. I'm getting ice," San said, and Wooyoung watched as he walked to the kitchen.

His mind spun with possible excuses. The TV still played coverage of the aftermath of his fight. If San connected the dots, it was over. If anyone found out San had a connection to Spider-Man... no... he couldn't let it happen. He-

Wooyoung shut the TV off before San walked into the room.

"Here's what's going to happen." San stopped in front of him, a bag of frozen peas in his hand. With his other hand, he held up three fingers. "First, you aren't allowed to talk until the swelling goes down. Second, when you can talk, you're going to tell me why you came home so late and what happened. And third-," his voice broke for a second. "And third, you're going to let me take care of you."

Oh, fuck.

S