Chapter Text
Like a hypodermic needle, the sound pierced through his skull. Pounding, screaming, blaring nothing but noise into his ears. Tossing and turning the remnants of an already forgotten dream slipped away like sand through fingers. The sheets were slightly wet, clammy from lower back sweat, sticking to skin and peeling away uncomfortably with every movement.
Panic set in. Where was this place? Everything was unfamiliar, from the bed underneath his body, to the patterns on the walls. The light seeping through the curtain was almost blinding, searing through half open lids. Then finally he jolted awake, a final piece of the sweat soaked sheets pulled off his flesh loudly as he rolled onto his side and frantically pressed the screen on his phone to shut off the alarm.
San slumped onto his back and stared at the ceiling, trying to calm himself down. He knew where he was. He was in the same, ridiculously cheap motel room he’d been staying in for the past month. He paid by the night, unsure when he’d be leaving, it began to feel like he never would. This thought alone was probably why he’d gotten so wasted the night before. He’d been driving home after yet another failed job interview and decided to stop by the local convenience store and buy a huge bottle of whiskey. Then he’d gone back to his motel room and drank alone, way too much, in far too little time. He’d never been one to drown his sorrows, if anything he was a pretty responsible drinker, well at least he used to be, before his entire life went to shit.
He sat up and rested his back against the wall, no headboard on this bed, which was pretty much an air mattress stacked on top of some sturdy boxes. The walls were an off-yellow. They could have originally been any colour, maybe a bright green, maybe a delicate cream. But years of nicotine stains and lack of proper upkeep had ruined that.
Aside from the bed, there was a dresser where a TV that looked like it came from the eighties was mounted. It only had five channels, and the speakers crackled whenever he turned the volume up above a whisper. His eyes scanned the cardboard boxes all over the room, containing what little he had left. One of them was tipped over, a few pairs of shoes spilling out. He’d probably tripped over it on his way to bed last night. Along with the dresser, there was a small wardrobe, but he hadn’t unpacked any of his things. He flat out refused. In his mind, it would be a self-fulfilling prophecy. If he got too comfortable, then he’d stay here forever, and that would be that, this would be his life.
San knew he was being a little dramatic, and a little too hard on himself. It hadn’t been that long. It wasn’t hopeless, even if it felt that way in his disgusting little motel room. For one, he had an extremely loving and doting family that would jump in a heartbeat to help him. He didn’t have to do this alone, he didn’t have to be homeless, rinsing what little money he had just for a roof over his head.
But he couldn’t tell them what had happened, how could he? He was too ashamed. He wasn’t ready for the looks of pity, the sad smiles and the eventual ‘we told you so’ conversations. He’d wanted to be back on his feet first, have proof that while things didn’t work out the way he’d planned, it hadn’t ruined him. He thought it would be easy, he didn’t have much in the way of possessions right now, sure, but he was smart, had credentials, a good education.
But it’s not about what you know, it's about who you know, and unfortunately the people in this town knew him. His reputation proceeded him, even if it was all a complete lie. They also knew his ex-girlfriend, knew her family, and their money and influence had put a target on San’s back, he never stood a chance.
San had only been nineteen when they met. He’d been waiting tables to pay his way through university. It wasn’t an upscale restaurant by any means, but the menu cost more than San would have been able to realistically afford without his half-price staff discount. The manager had liked him instantly when he came for his interview, liked that San was polite and took care of his appearance and offered him a job on the spot. The pay wasn’t a huge amount, but it would look far better on his resume than the fast-food joint he had been employed at prior, so he took it.
Areum had come in one rainy Thursday night with a bunch of her friends. The second they entered the restaurant all eyes were on them. All five of them were stunning, shiny hair, expensive clothes, strong perfume drowning out the smell of food cooking in the kitchen. The hostess sat them in San’s section, all of his male co-workers practically begging him to switch with them so that they could talk to the lovely ladies who had just graced their mostly empty workplace with their presence.
San had refused, he’d also thought them to be a little foolish. He didn’t know why a group of girls, who clearly had money had come into a place like this, maybe they were traveling somewhere else and got hungry, maybe they were lost. Either way, none of them stood a chance. They were the kind of girls who probably had a millionaire or two lined up to date them. Had probably been promised to a wealthy friend of the family’s son.
So, San simply tried to do his job, the way he always did. The girls were difficult to put it nicely. San hadn’t really expected anything less. They talked to him like he was an idiot, changed their order several times, and never said please or thank you. All except Areum, who always smiled at San and seemed grateful as he rushed around just to dote on her and her friends.
In hindsight, it was probably all an act. San wondered if even back then, as just a teenager she had planned all along to make San her plaything, and then discard him like a broken toy when she got bored. But at the time, as a shy teenage boy, he hadn’t been able to see it. San had no idea if her pleasantness was even real, it probably wasn’t, he was just happy that unlike her friends, she was treating him like an actual human being.
When it came to making the payment, Areum, who San had noticed seemed to be the leader of their little clique, whipped out her credit card and paid the entire bill. As he was waiting for the payment to go through, so that he could print off her receipt, she finally spoke.
“What’s your name?” she smiled, twisting her long, dark hair around her finger.
“Oh…it’s San” he stuttered, he was wearing a name tag, so he was a little surprised.
“You’re really handsome, you could be a model” Areum said simply.
Her friends snickered a little rudely at the comment, but San couldn’t fault them for that, it was ridiculous. San had a very striking face, or so he’d been told. Sharp eyes, cheekbones, jawline, and pretty good skin. But back then he’d been a scrawny little thing, something years of training at the gym and eating the high-quality food Areum would later buy him had fixed.
“Um, thank you!” San said, smiling anxiously.
“Can I have your number?” Areum asked.
Another cruel giggle from her friends.
San had immediately thought it was a joke. Because why on earth would this girl want anything to do with him beyond customer and server? But she continued smiling at him, still twirling her hair in her fingers, eyes twinkling. Areum wasn’t the kind of girl you said no to, he could tell just by her aura that she got whatever she wanted, probably had from the day she was born. So, he nodded, probably a little too aggressively, took out the notepad he took orders on and scribbled down his phone number before timidly sliding it across the table to her.
“I’ll call you!” she grinned, sharing a look, one San couldn’t quite decipher with all of her friends.
“Okay…” San mumbled.
“You can go now” Areum shrugged, waving him away like a bad smell.
That action alone should have been enough for San to ignore her call later that week, block her number as soon as he had it, but he didn’t, because he was a stupid kid. She’d treated him like he was nothing and had continued to do so for the next four years of their ‘relationship.’
San never quite understood why Areum had wanted to date him, why she called herself his girlfriend for so long. Sure, he was given all money could buy. He moved into her penthouse apartment, paid for by her parents. He was allowed to drive one of her many expensive cars when he went around. Everything from his socks to his underwear to his jewellery had a designer label and he was on her arm to every party and fundraiser thrown in mansions so large that his head would spin. And she would cling to him, introduce him as her wonderful boyfriend, leave the marks of her expensive, red lipstick all over his cheek. But behind closed doors she was cold and mean to him.
Nothing he ever did was good enough. She was high maintenance; she didn’t seem to understand that San needed his own time to study and revise for his exams. Couldn’t grasp the concept that in the real world, one that wasn’t oozing with money, the one San came from, people needed to work hard to get what they wanted.
Areum would accuse San of not being grateful for everything she’d done for him, everything she’d given him. Guilt tripping him until he eventually caved. She was right, wasn’t she? San spent the last two years of his university degree completely exhausted. He’d always have to do whatever she wanted and spend the small amount of free time he had studying, barely finding time to sleep.
His friends had long since gotten sick of her, and sick of all the excuses San made for her controlling behaviour. And so, he’d stopped hearing from them. His only company was Areum, her shitty friends and Areum’s family. And if San had thought her friends were unbearable, then her family were torture.
They were unbelievably rude and demeaning towards him. At family functions he would always have to pour them their glasses of fancy wine and fetch them things from around the house, despite the fact that they had plenty of servants to do such a thing for them. Her father would chuckle, deep and haughty the way rich people typically do and make jokes about the fact that San was ‘just a waiter’ after all, and so he should be used to this. San would simply grin, laugh along and grit his teeth. Areum’s family didn’t even let up when San had introduced his own parents to them.
San had hoped that maybe he was simply being tested, hazed in a way, so that Areum’s family could make sure he was the right guy for their daughter. He stupidly thought that they’d at least treat his own family with some sort of respect, but he had been sadly mistaken. Like him, his family were kind, polite and civil even in the face of such mistreatment, but he knew they must have felt humiliated as Areum’s father boasted their great wealth while sneering at his family’s humble lifestyle.
“San, my love, I don’t get it, why are you spending time with people like that?” his mother had asked gently one night over the phone.
“I get that they’re a bit difficult and need a reality check but…it’s what I have to deal with if I’m going to spend my life with Areum” San explained.
“San…do you think that maybe Areum just likes to have someone to boss about?” his mother had warned, voice still tender, but the concern was clear.
“No, I think she really loves me mum” San said quickly.
“San…” his mother had sighed.
And San had told his mother that he had things to do and speedily hung up the phone. He didn’t want to hear it; he knew that they didn’t understand. Areum loved him, she really did, otherwise she wouldn’t have done everything she did for him.
He had everything he could ever want, and he hadn’t even had to work for it. He was living most people’s dream. He was driving expensive cars, hanging out with the big shots, eating delicious food, and flying on private jets to beautiful parts of the world. And he’d found love. Or in his stupid, immature mind he had. He believed it fully as well, so much so that he’d lost his friends. So much so that he’d fought with those he loved most.
“I ran into Chan at the grocery store the other week, says you two haven’t talked in months?” San’s father questioned down the phone.
San cringed at the mention of his ex-friend’s name. They had been close, friends since they were little kids, it was one of the many ties his relationship with Areum had cut.
“Apparently, you went out for lunch with him, and Areum slapped you, in the face, in the middle of a busy restaurant! And when Chan called her out for it, you defended her!” his father's voice boomed, San could imagine how his face was twisted in disappointment and shock.
“It…it wasn’t a big deal” San stuttered, squeezing his eyes shut, his cheek stung at the reminder of the slap.
“San…” his father whispered, his voice pleading.
“I…I upset her!” San argued.
“San, it’s not okay for anyone to put their hands on you, ever! Especially not someone who you say loves you! Is this…does she do that a lot?” his father asked.
“No…” San lied, his voice not sounding at all convincing.
She did hit him, or throw things at him, or shove him. It never hurt, not really, she was a lot smaller than he was after all, but it still rattled his confidence, it still humiliated him whenever it happened.
“San, I’m worried about you. Between the way her family speak to and treat you, to the physical abuse…” his father started.
“I’m not being abused!” San interrupted.
I’m not, am I? No way. Abuse was what men, who stayed out late getting drunk, came home and did to their wives and kids. This delicate, beautiful woman who showered him with gifts wasn’t abusing him. Yeah, she hit him sometimes, threatened to take everything away, embarrassed him, called him names but…it wasn’t abuse. It couldn't be.
It was his fault, anyway. He kept fucking up, disrespecting her, not being enough for her. And she was angry about it, not because she was a bad person, but because she was disappointed. Disappointed that San wasn’t the man she knew he could be, upset that he wasn’t achieving his potential as the perfect boyfriend. She was simply correcting his behaviour, lashing out because she wanted him to be better, because she loved him.
“San please, just put an end to all this and come home, back where you belong. Your room is waiting for you, we’re all waiting for you!” his father begged.
“I belong here with Areum. You keep saying she’s bad news, but why would she be with me if she didn’t care about me, dad? Why would she do so much for me?” San argued.
He was livid, they just don’t get it. San was better off now than he’d ever been. He had everything he’d ever wanted, now he just needed to do more. He needed to become a better person so that Areum wouldn’t be disappointed in him anymore. If he worked harder, if he tried more, she’d be able to let her guard down, she’d feel more secure, she’d be able to relax and let San love her the way he wanted to. Lazy mornings, romantic walks on the beach, all the things she never wanted to do because San was too much of an embarrassment to her. He just had to try harder, do more, and then everything would be okay.
“Because that’s what the rich and powerful do, San! They can buy all the pleasures of the world with money, and it bores them! So, they decide to fuck up their own lives, or the lives of others for a thrill! Why do you think so many politicians and celebrities get caught up in drugs, gambling scandals, or other things so sick that I don’t even want to say it out loud? It’s because they can! You’re just some entertainment for her, I know it’s hard to hear but…” his father argued, San could hear the helplessness in his voice.
“No, she…she loves me!” San whimpered; he’d began to cry silently.
“Someone who loves you wouldn’t treat you this way! San I…”
San had hung up the phone.
That had been 10 months ago now. He hadn’t spoken to a single member of his family since. It had been all on him. Even now, he received text messages, emails, voice messages begging him to contact them. They were all filled with so much love, so much comfort. They just wanted to see his face, hear his voice. He was still invited for Christmas, New Years, every birthday, every event, and he’d ignored them all. He’d ignored them all for her. And laying in his pathetic, shitty motel room, head pounding from his hangover, he still ignored them. But now he ignored them because he was too ashamed to admit that they’d been right all along.
It had first happened nine months ago. To put it simply, he’d returned to their apartment after hours of shopping and running errands for Areum (of course) to find her in bed with another man. And instead of being shocked and regretful, Areum had mocked him, they both had.
The second time (that he knew of) happened five months ago. And the third and final time had been a month ago. Areum had immediately broken up with him after this and kicked him out of her apartment. San was grateful for that, knowing that his pathetic self would have forgiven her again and simply accepted it if she hadn’t ended things there.
Not wanting to be outed as the kind of woman to repeatedly cheat on her partner of four years, Areum had ran to her father and claimed that San had been abusing her and that’s why she had landed in the arms of another man. It wasn’t exactly difficult to paint the picture. San was no angel.
After the first time he’d caught her, he’d become increasingly paranoid. Always calling her, always texting her. San had always been a pretty obsessive person, his parents had always told him it was just because he was driven and passionate, but as he got older, he knew that it often bordered on unhealthy. Areum had been the first person he’d been obsessed with though, and that made it so much worse. It was toxic, it always had been but at first it had been one-sided, it had been her words and her actions.
But as he became more paranoid, more on edge, more afraid to lose her, his mind became a lot more twisted. Hell, he’d trashed her apartment in a violent rage the third and final time he’d caught her cheating. The people in the apartment below had heard him screaming, swearing, calling her awful names, which, even if she deserved them, wasn’t the way he should have handled it. But at that moment in time, when the feelings were so raw and real, he couldn’t help it. The people in the apartment below had backed Areum up. The phone calls, the text messages, the destruction of Areum’s home, had all painted a story that San was some sort of unhinged stalker prone to violence.
That’s all it took, no questions asked, no investigation. San was a monster who had been attacking one of the town’s darlings behind closed doors. Areum’s family’s wealth, their connections meant that they had their fingers in everything. San, who despite all the obstacles in the way, had graduated first class with an Accounting Degree had nowhere to go, his reputation in that circle had been dragged through the mud. So, he’d taken a bus out of town, picking a particular direction at random to go and now here he was. His funds quickly dwindling each night he paid to stay in the motel, spending the rest of it on greasy takeout and booze.
San felt like such an idiot. Maybe he was pathetic and worthless, just like Areum had said. Maybe he was destined to be absolutely nothing. He was only twenty-three and yet it felt like he’d lived his entire life in the past few years. He’d burned bridges, he’d lost friends, family, a relationship that he’d stupidly thought was real. San was jobless, homeless, and worst of all completely alone. And it was his own stupidity that had caused it, and his own pride that prolonged it.
With the protest of his head San pulled himself out of bed and made his way over to the bathroom, he desperately needed a shower after sweating buckets in his sleep last night. He avoided the small, lopsided mirror on the wall, he knew he looked like shit, he didn’t need to see it for himself.
After he’d washed and brushed his teeth, he felt a little better, but barely. San chuckled bitterly as he dressed himself. The majority of his clothes far too short and tight, because they were what he owned when he was a teenager. He wasn’t allowed to keep all of the fancy designer items after Areum broke up with him. He hadn’t even realised how much of his things were really hers until after he was kicked out.
Finally, he reached for his large bottle of now, room-temperature water and chugged. He needed to go out and get something to eat to stop his head from spinning, but he didn’t want to face the day just yet, he needed some time.
San flopped down onto the bed which groaned under his weight. He grabbed his phone off the side-table where it had been charging and opened up Instagram. He hadn’t posted anything on there in over a year, and his inbox was flooded with questions and concerns from family members and old aquiantances. San didn’t reply to them, he couldn’t. But he still kept the app to keep up to date with them all, pleased to know that at least they were happy, and their lives hadn’t gone to complete shit. Plus, the meme pages and posts from artists he liked could keep his mind busy for hours if he wanted it to. He was scrolling down his home page when he saw something that made his heart skip a beat.
It was a photo of two hands intertwined. Delicate, pale fingers clasped in larger, more tanned ones. San swiped the picture quickly and was immediately met with a photograph of two people, holding one another tight, huge grins on their faces. One he recognized a little, the other he would be able to identify in a dark room.
Survived two years with this demon! The caption stated. The post came from none other than Choi Jongho, San’s cousin.
The other man in the photograph was called Yeosang. San knew this because he’d been silently watching their life together play out through cute and sappy photographs. He’d never actually met Yeosang because well…had it really been that long since he’d spoken to Jongho? That couldn’t be true! But guilt prickled away at San’s skin when he realised it must have been.
He and Jongho had been close. Jongho was the son of his father’s brother, and they’d moved a couple of hours away to a large city when Jongho was pretty young. But every summer, every Christmas, every birthday, San and Jongho would be together. They also had a shared love for gaming and spent many late nights on the weekend talking through their headsets as they battled monsters and solved puzzles together.
When San became more distant, Jongho had been one of the many people in his life who had tried to reach out to him. But he’d stopped after about a year, San couldn’t blame him, he wouldn’t have bothered with him if he was in Jongho’s shoes. San bit his lip and thought long and hard. Jongho wasn’t that close to the rest of the family after moving again to another city, even further away than the one he’d grown up in, for work. He still talked to them, still attended family gatherings if his photographs were anything to go by. But he wasn’t so close to San’s parents that he’d immediately sound the alarm if San made contact.
San tapped his foot; would he want to hear from me after all this time? Maybe Jongho would be angry at San’s behaviour towards him and the rest of his family, cuss him out and push him away. But San shook that thought out of his head. The Jongho he knew was kind, caring and incredibly understanding. He was also trustworthy, San knew that if he asked Jongho to keep something between them, he would.
San would talk to his parents, he promised himself that he’d do so really soon. But he wasn’t ready, he still needed to figure out how to put all of this into words, how to understand it all even for himself. But he also needed a little help, and some comfort. What he needed right now was to hear a familiar voice and speak to someone who he knew had his back.
San held his breath, scrolled through his contact list, and hit the call button on Jongho’s name, praying it was still the right number. It rang and rang and rang. Then went to voice mail. San tried not to lose hope, at least it was an in-use number. He was about to send Jongho a message on Instagram when his stomach rumbled in protest. Waiting for him to call back won’t kill me. And so, he struggled up off his bed and rushed out the door.
An hour later he was making his way through a local park, struggling with two bags of shopping full of food he knew wouldn’t do his body any good. But what choice did he have? Junk food was far cheaper, plus it wasn’t like he had anywhere to cook himself proper meals anymore. He felt the familiar vibrating of an incoming call in his pocket. He sat down on one of the benches and pulled his phone out, hitting the accept call button immediately when he saw whose name flashed up on screen.
“Hello?” he stuttered, hands already starting to sweat.
He would blame the midday June sun, and the pace of his walk, but he knew realistically it was all nerves.
“San? Is it really you?” Jongho asked, the hesitation in his voice causing tears to form in San’s eyes.
“Yeah…it’s me” San squeaked out.
“Oh my god! Where the fuck have you been? What happened?” Jongho shrieked, he sounded so relieved, and so happy to hear from San after so long.
This in itself eased San’s mind. He was still loved. There were still people out there who didn’t hate him, people who just wanted him to be okay. And so, forgetting all about his hunger, San spilled everything. He talked non-stop for what must have been an hour, Jongho only offering noises of response or sympathy to each of San’s talking points.
“San, I’m so, so sorry” Jongho sighed once San had finally stopped talking.
“It’s okay…it’s my fault…” San whispered.
“Don’t think that way. It wasn’t your fault! You were so young when you got into that relationship, hell, you’re still young! She is responsible for how she treated you” Jongho stated firmly.
“Yeah, but I’m responsible for cutting everyone off…I’m responsible for being so infatuated with her that I couldn’t see what was really going on…” San mumbled.
“Nope, no! None of that thank you very much. While I wish you hadn’t gone silent on all of us, it’s happened and, we can’t change the past, okay? Now we just work on moving forward and getting you back on your feet” Jongho argued.
“We don’t have to work on anything Jongho, I’m not expecting anything from you…I just wanted to hear a familiar voice is all” San said.
It was his fault; it was his responsibility. He’d been the one to cut everyone off, he’d been the one to stick with Areum, he’d been the one to act crazy, scream, break things and destroy his reputation.
“You think I’m just going to let you stay in some crappy motel room in the middle of nowhere? Don’t be a moron, you’re family, family help each other. And I won’t take any objections, okay?” Jongho huffed.
“Okay” San laughed, it was the first time he’d probably smiled properly in years.
“But we can continue this conversation tomorrow if that’s okay? I promised Yeosang a lovely lunch date for our anniversary and now he’s standing by the door glaring at me. The world would simply end if we were five minutes late for our reservation!” Jongho chuckled and San heard a voice, one he could only assume was Yeosang’s affectionately curse in the background.
“Sure thing, speak to you tomorrow!” San sighed.
**************************************************************
It had been a week since San plucked up the courage to call Jongho. He was still living in a cheap motel, but he felt a little more optimistic. Jongho called him at least once a day, and text him a lot between then, constantly checking in, sending him funny pictures, and keeping him up to date with his own life. It was late that Sunday evening when Jongho called again. San was a little surprised, they’d talked that morning after all. But he’d never say no to some good company, not when he was as lonely as he was right now.
“I got a proposition for you, and I’ll warn you right now, if you say no, you’re an idiot” Jongho chuckled the second San answered.
“And what’s that?” San said, he knew that no matter what it was it would be good news.
Despite feeling guilty and like he didn’t deserve help, San wouldn’t actively refuse anything Jongho offered him, and right now Jongho was offering to get San out of his miserable situation and back to living his life.
“So, I’ve been begging Yeosang to move in with me, but he’s been holding back because he doesn’t want to leave his roommate, who is his best friend of five years, to pay for their two-bedroom apartment all by himself. But if you were to move into that spare room, well it would solve both of our problems now, wouldn’t it?” Jongho asked.
“Move to where you are?” San stuttered.
“Yep! I mean, why not? You’ve got nothing to tie you to where you are now. It’s far away from that godforsaken town, nobody knows you here. Doesn’t a fresh start sound exactly like what you need right now?” Jongho said.
“You’re right…yeah, that sounds…I’ll do it Jongho!” San agreed.
His heart began to hammer in excitement, he was getting out of here and he was getting away. He wished he could hug Jongho right now.
“It’s a really nice place! Spacious, good views, and only a couple of stops on the subway from the city centre. I’ll help you out with your half of the rent for a month or so, just until you find work. I can introduce you to all of my friends so you’re less alone. And then eventually, when you’re ready, I can support you whenever you decide to get back in touch with your folks. It’s going to be great; I finally get my favourite cousin back!” Jongho squealed in excitement.
San couldn’t stop smiling. He felt like all of the weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, all the tension in his body had evaporated.
“Are you sure Yeosang’s friend is cool with a complete stranger moving in?” San asked, biting his lip anxiously.
“Oh, for sure! We discussed it with him and he’s more than happy. He’s really outgoing, friendly, loves meeting new people! Plus, you might not actually be strangers come to think of it…” Jongho muttered.
“What do you mean?”
“Apparently, he went to your school. His family moved around a lot, so he was only there for a few months, and I know your school was rather big, so you might not have even crossed paths all that much. He didn’t seem to have any recollection of you when I mentioned it. But you’re the same age, so he would have been in your year!” Jongho explained.
“Well, what’s his name?” San asked, genuinely curious about whether or not he’d remember him.
“Jung Wooyoung” Jongho replied.
San's blood ran cold.
Jung Wooyoung, the sweet, cheerful, sensitive boy who had joined his school back when he was fifteen. The boy with no friends, the boy who was an easy target. The boy who was spat on, kicked, punched, slapped, and called every disgusting name under the sun. Wooyoung had been tormented non-stop in the few months he had attended that school, and San had been the reason why.
**********************************************************
8 years ago
“Class, we have a new student, please make him feel welcome!” Mrs Park announced.
The boy at the front of the room bowed before shyly waving his hand at the class of thirty other teenagers. It was a little odd, for someone new to show up in the middle of the spring semester but it wasn’t unheard of.
“Hi, nice to meet you all, I’m Wooyoung” he said, grinning brightly at all of them.
A few people, some of the friendlier students offered him words of greeting. San’s school wasn’t the best of the places. It was the only public school in their affluent town, it’s where all the kids whose parents couldn’t pay for a fancy education were dumped. It was overcrowded and understaffed, not enough teachers or people in charge to control the many hormonal teens under their care. There was something of a hierarchy in the place, students who had respect from their peers and students who didn’t. San was at the top of the food chain, but only due to familial ties.
As if on cue a few voices snickered at Wooyoung as he introduced himself. Kim Hanwool was San’s cousin on his mother’s side. He was actually a year older than San but had been held back a year due to the fact that, in the nicest way possible, he was a complete idiot. Hanwool was huge even at the tender age of sixteen, towering over everyone including their teachers. He was overweight, but strong, which worked to his advantage, as he liked to use his size to intimidate people. Hanwool was not a nice person, neither were the rest of his gang. They were always shoving people, always picking fights, they always had something nasty to say about someone else.
San didn’t like him, not one bit. But in their chaotic school and the rougher part of town that he currently lived in, being known as Kim Hanwool’s cousin saved him a lot of trouble. Hanwool was adamant to take San under his wing, convinced San to hang out with him and his little group of future criminals. They weren’t nice to him, they weren’t real friends, but Hanwool had pretty much demanded San spend time with them and nobody else, and San, who was a quiet boy with zero backbone, just accepted it.
San knew why they were laughing at Wooyoung. The boy’s voice was a high pitched and cheerful, lacking any sort of stereotypical masculinity. His brown, bowl cut hairstyle was too clean and neat. His uniform was immaculate, shirt tucked in and buttoned all the way up, tie done up correctly, and not a single crease in his blazer. He looked out of place here. It was stupid, San admitted to himself, Wooyoung was simply wearing the uniform the way they were all supposed to. But the fact that he came across as someone who cared about school and his appearance well…it made him different, and you didn’t want to be different in this place.
As the weeks went by, San paid Wooyoung a little more attention. They were in several classes together, but they’d never spoken, they were from two different worlds. Wooyoung always sat at the very front of the class, hand shooting up every time the teacher asked them a question, and he’d always get it right, he’d always have the perfect answer. Wooyoung was smart, San thought, and his enthusiasm for learning was kind of endearing. San also liked to learn, but he’d never admit that to anyone around him.
San sat at the back of the class with the rest of his little clique, one of them always messing around or talking so much that nothing the teacher said ever really stuck in San’s mind. In his free time, he’d go over lesson plans and learn it himself, but sat in class he had to pretend he didn’t care. Wooyoung always handed in homework early, like he went home the day it was handed out and worked on it that same night. San also completed his homework fairly early, days before it actually had to be turned in, but he always gave it to the teacher on the deadline, feigning that he’d completed it last minute, because he didn’t care, and homework was stupid.
Wooyoung wasn’t very good at sports; San figured he wasn’t the kind of person who liked getting roughed up and dirty in the muddy fields outside, and he’d been right. But Wooyoung was impressive when it came to running, he was fast, the fastest in their class actually. Despite his skill of speed and fast movement, when it came to teams, Wooyoung was picked last every time. His shrug and sad smile kind of hurt San, but he couldn’t speak up, he knew he’d be teased for all eternity if he even suggested they let Wooyoung on the team.
It was the same when it came to break time, Wooyoung would always sit alone while he ate. Nobody really wanted to be around him, though not because Wooyoung was a bad person. Quite the opposite, he was always polite and friendly, and San knew he often helped people in class and gave them tips on how to study better. But, to a bunch of dumb teenagers who thought the world revolved around how they were perceived in high school, befriending someone like Wooyoung was social suicide. He just wasn’t cool, he was a goody two shoes, a teacher’s pet.
Hanwool targeted Wooyoung almost immediately, in the typical way he always did. You see, Hanwool never really got physical unless he deemed it absolutely necessary. He preferred to call people names, steal their lunch money, the stereotypical high-school bully shit. There was always a snide remark whenever Wooyoung enthusiastically answered a question in class, a cruel name called when they were out on the football pitch.
Whenever Wooyoung sat alone at lunch time near their table, Hanwool would talk about him loudly like he wasn’t there, poking fun at how he had no friends, and nobody liked him. It was all so pathetic and immature. But San knew that Hanwool and his friends would get bored eventually, they’d never be nice to Wooyoung, they weren’t nice to anyone outside of their gang, except the girls they thought were pretty. But after a few months, when Wooyoung wasn’t the new, different kid anymore and they’d gotten used to him, the constant need to make him feel bad would eventually die down. Or it would have if it wasn’t for San…
It had been a month since Wooyoung joined the school, and things had pretty much stayed the same. San had never said a word to him, he wasn’t sure if Wooyoung even knew who he was. But things like that didn’t seem to matter to Wooyoung, he was lovely, so, so lovely, as San would learn that day.
San’s dog had died that morning, peacefully, in her sleep. She was old, she’d been adopted a few months after San had been born and therefore, had been his best friend for his entire life. San had tried to pretend he was fine, but he wasn’t, his heart was breaking. He’d miss her so much, he couldn’t bear the thought that he’d come home from school that day, and she wouldn’t be there to greet him, wagging her tail excitedly as her one good eye looked up at him in wonder.
But San couldn’t let it show, at least not in front of his ‘friends.’ He knew that they’d mock him for being so upset over a ‘stupid dog’, San was pretty sure none of them had ever really loved anyone or anything. But once the bell rang after his first class signifying their twenty-minute break, San needed to let it all out. He wandered quickly down the hallway, making his way into one of the bathrooms he knew not many students went into.
Heading into one of the cubicles, San closed the lid of the toilet, sat down, and sobbed quietly into his hands. After a good five minutes, San decided it was time to pull himself together and go grab something to eat. He slowly made his way out of the cubical and over to one of the mirrors, rubbing the tears away from his eyes and blowing his nose. He dipped his finger under the cold water tap and rubbed them around his face, trying to make the red, puffiness of his skin die down, it was so obvious that he’d been crying, and he didn’t need to be teased for it, not today.
San practically jumped out of his skin as the door to the bathroom flew open, he stayed facing away though, just staring into the mirror as the person walked past him and into the cubical. They came out after a few minutes, over to where San was still standing like a statue staring at his reflection and washed their hands. San knew he probably looked really weird right now, but he’d rather look a little unhinged than have whoever was in the room with him run and tell everyone that Choi San, Kim Hanwool’s cousin was crying in the school toilets like a little girl.
“Hey…are you okay?” the person next to him said gently.
San turned to find none other than Wooyoung staring at him with a worried expression on his face.
“Yeah, yeah I’m all good” San gulped, just lying about how he really felt caused another pesky tear to roll down his cheek.
“No, you’re not” Wooyoung sighed softly.
“It’s cool, not like you can help anyway” San shrugged, why am I even talking to him?
“Maybe not but, talking about it might be good?” Wooyoung suggested.
San took a shaky breath and clenched his fists, ready to punch Wooyoung square in the face if he laughed.
“My dog passed away this morning, I’ve had her since I was born and it just…it really hurts. I really loved her, she was family, my best friend, and now she’s gone, and I just feel so empty…” San whimpered, his unbothered façade broke, and he began sniffling again.
To San’s surprise, Wooyoung immediately rushed and grabbed some paper towels to catch the tears falling down his face. Instead of handing them to him directly, Wooyoung began to gently dab the towels at San’s face, it was a little weird, but it felt nice, to have someone take care of him when he was feeling so vulnerable like this.
“I know I’m being stupid” San croaked.
“Not at all! I’ve had several pets throughout my life and it’s never easy to lose them, and it’s never stupid to love them. Our relationships with our pets can be just as strong as the ones we have with other humans I believe” Wooyoung hushed softly.
“W-what, what pets did you have?” San stuttered, there was something about Wooyoung telling him that he wasn’t being stupid that comforted him.
He had already been upset about his dog, but then upset at himself for being so upset. It was a spiral, something that Wooyoung’s words broke him out of. San was allowed to mourn his loss; he was allowed to feel bad about this. And with that, the tears slowly began to stop.
“Mostly little animals, rabbits, hamsters, rats etc. But I also help out at an animal shelter in my free time, there are a bunch of cats and dogs there! I’ve created a bond with a lot of them so even though they aren’t technically my pets and will someday hopefully find a new home, I still see them as such because I really care about them!” Wooyoung replied, smiling softly.
He was still standing close to San and still affectionately drying his face.
“That’s nice, that you volunteer…” San muttered.
“I love animals. I want to work with them some day! My aunt works in an animal hospital, and I’ve always wanted to do something like that” Wooyoung explained.
“That sounds awesome” San said, smiling slightly at the other man.
Wooyoung placed the used tissue on the counter and stepped closer to San. Before San could object Wooyoung had wrapped his arms tightly around him, pulling their bodies close together.
“I’m sorry about your dog San, really” he whispered.
San wasn’t sure how Wooyoung knew his name, but it wasn’t actually that weird, considering they had several classes together and the teacher would always take the register at the beginning. Plus, he was somewhat popular, being Hanwool’s cousin and all, perhaps even a complete outsider like Wooyoung knew exactly who he was.
“It’s…thank you for talking to me…” San sighed.
He decided to hug Wooyoung back, seeking a tenderness and warmth he really needed right now. After what was probably far too long, Wooyoung pulled back slightly, arms still draping loosely over San’s shoulders. San for some reason still wasn’t letting go of the hold he had around Wooyoung’s waist. It just felt…really nice.
San hadn’t been mean to Wooyoung, but he hadn’t ever been nice to him either, he’d just treated him like he was invisible, sat complacently whenever Hanwool or his friends teased him. San knew he couldn’t stop his cousin from being an asshole, nobody ever could. But he could have told them to back off a little or at least directed their attention away from Wooyoung from time to time, he could have tried to make Wooyoung’s life easier. And yet he hadn’t because he was a coward. But here Wooyoung was, caring for him, hugging him, and being kind to him for no real reason.
Wooyoung could have ignored San today, he could have laughed at him, but he hadn’t. Wooyoung saw that someone was hurt, someone was upset and decided to reach out when he didn’t have to. Wooyoung was a much better man than he was. He was so real, so authentic. He knew what he wanted in life, knew what he wanted to do career wise. So, he knew he had to work hard, get good grades in school, and didn’t care that others saw him as a teacher’s pet or a loser.
It was admirable. San knew that in the real world, outside of school, Wooyoung would be the one succeeding and going places, and knew that the people who teased him, the ones who didn’t care about anything, would end up being the real losers in the grand scheme of things.
**************************************************************
“Ew, he’s gained so much weight!” Hanwool’s girlfriend Mari sneered.
It was about a week after their elongated hug in the bathroom and San hadn’t said a word to Wooyoung since. He was sat at the table next to theirs, alone of course, trying to ignore the way San’s group were staring at him and spewing nonsense.
“You’re right, though I’m not surprised, he’s always stuffing food in his mouth” one of Mari’s friends, a girl San didn’t really remember the name of added.
Wooyoung swallowed his rice down and placed his fork back down onto the table. He sat there motionless, just staring at the plate of food in front of him.
“How are you going to get a bunch of dirty old men to be your sugar daddy in the future if you keep eating?” Mari asked.
The group laughed loudly at this, all except San who tried to focus on his sandwich. Some of the boys he was sat with began to make pig noises, sending them all into another fit of laughter. It was pathetic. Sure, Wooyoung had a little puppy fat, but it was nothing extreme, nothing he couldn’t lose as his body grew and matured. Plus, nobody seemed to see the absurdity of someone who was dating Hanwool, make fun of another person’s weight. But the company San kept did seem to have the belief that they were God’s gift, couldn’t ever see their own flaws or shortcomings.
Wooyoung finally lifted his head to look at them all. When he made eye contact with San, he smiled brightly, though there was a little pain in his eyes.
“Who are you smiling at?” Hanwool asked, before looking back and forth between Wooyoung and San.
Wooyoung’s face fell at the question, and he looked back down at his lunch.
“Oooh, I think someone has a crush on you Sannie!” Hanwool teased, and everyone at the table looked at him, waiting for him to react.
“He better fucking not…” San hissed.
San knew that Wooyoung didn’t have a crush on him, they’d only spoken once, they didn’t even know each other. Hanwool had instantly assumed that Wooyoung was gay the second he’d walked into their classroom, but there was no actual proof that he even liked boys. If for some reason he did have a crush on San, then that would be okay. San didn’t think there was anything wrong with that. But right now, he had to save face, otherwise he’d be teased and accused of liking Wooyoung back. So, he acted disgusted at the idea.
“Hear that fag? Don’t look at my cousin again” Hanwool snarled.
He stood up and dumped his full cup of juice all over Wooyoung’s head, the sticky, fruity liquid clinging to his hair and running down his shirt.
Lunch times went like that from now on. The free table was always the one right next to San and Hanwool’s, other students never wanted to eat there because they knew it would make them a target. So Wooyoung, who was a lot braver than San would have been in that situation, always sat near them. Every day without fail, Wooyoung was called homophobic slurs, had pig or cow noises made towards him, called fat, a whale, ugly etc.
As time went on Wooyoung began to eat less. At first it was just a smaller portion, then a salad, then eventually he’d only nibble on a single apple. San hated that the cruel taunts were obviously getting to Wooyoung so much, and he hoped that Wooyoung was at least eating well outside of school.
***************************************************************
They were changing after gym class when San first noticed the cuts over the skin of Wooyoung’s thighs. The lines were clean and straight, very obviously self-inflicted. Some of them were bright red and clearly recent, others were scabbing over, and some were just faint, white scars. There were a lot too, way more than there should have been if this was a new thing he’d just started doing.
San felt his mouth go dry, probably staring a little too hard. He felt unwell by the sight of the marks, partially because of how painful they looked, but more so because of what they meant. His anxiety wasn’t quelled even when Wooyoung quickly changed back into his uniform, hiding the cuts from view. Nobody else had seemed to notice, which was a good thing, people didn’t need more things to bully Wooyoung for.
The next day San dropped a note on Wooyoung’s desk as he was walking to the back of the class. He’d been up all night, worrying about what he’d seen on Wooyoung’s body the day before and he wanted to check up on him, it only seemed fair, Wooyoung had been there for him when he was hurting after all. The note simply asked Wooyoung to meet him in the same bathroom they’d first spoken in at break time.
When the bell rang, San told his ‘friends’ he needed to pee and rushed off in the direction of the bathroom. It was empty when he got there, and he paced around the room a little. For some reason he felt really anxious, he wasn’t sure if Wooyoung was going to show up, especially after everything his group had been saying to him in the past few weeks. If Wooyoung did show up, San was going to ask him about what he’d seen, and it was going to be a really uncomfortable conversation.
But San also felt nervous about how much of a shit he gave about Wooyoung. Ever since he’d comforted San, ever since their hug, San found himself thinking about him a little too much, found his eyes lingering on Wooyoung whenever he sat in front of him in class or walked past him in the hallway. San wished he was less of a pushover, less of a wimp and could just tell Hanwool and his friends to shut up and back off. He wished he had the courage to openly be friends with Wooyoung. There was something about Wooyoung that made him feel better. He flinched as the door to the bathroom slowly opened.
“Hey, I read your note, is something wrong?” Wooyoung asked, smiling nervously.
San swallowed hard, the fact that Wooyoung was asking if he was okay despite the fact that San had been present when other people had done nothing but make his life miserable surprised him.
“Umm…I need to ask you about something” San stuttered.
“You’re scaring me a little!” Wooyoung giggled, it sounded so pretty.
“Sorry it’s just…yesterday, when we were changing after class, I saw that you had um…you had cuts on your leg, a lot of them” San whispered.
Wooyoung’s body stiffened, and his smile vanished.
“Yeah, sometimes the cats at the shelter get a little too playful…” he shrugged.
“Wooyoung…” San hissed.
“Okay, I know…What do you want me to say? I cut myself sometimes” Wooyoung huffed out, he sounded a little panicked.
“But, why?” San asked.
“Because…I don’t know San…it’s just how I cope!” Wooyoung whimpered.
“With all the things people say to you?” San said gently.
Wooyoung nodded slowly, eyes teary.
“It just hurts a lot. And sometimes turning that hurt into something psychical can numb the emotional pain. But then the next day, I come back here and people…keep on saying things, and so I keep on doing it” he sobbed.
“Wooyoung, I know people are assholes but, don’t hurt yourself, please, please, please!” San begged.
It was San’s turn to pull Wooyoung into a warm comforting hug. He felt terrible. Even if he didn’t call Wooyoung names, even if he didn’t make fun of him, he surrounded himself with people who did, he was guilty by association. San hated that all the words, all the insults were causing Wooyoung not only emotional pain but by extension, psychical pain too.
All he could do was hold Wooyoung, prove to him that he cared, even if outside of their private meetings inside the bathroom, he wouldn’t show it. San hoped that Wooyoung would listen to him, wouldn’t cut himself anymore, and he prayed that Wooyoung wouldn’t take things further, wouldn’t hurt himself in a way he couldn’t come back from.
“It’s not true…what they say about me…” Wooyoung mumbled, snuggling into San’s shoulder, and squeezing him tight.
San wasn’t sure what exactly he was talking about, people said all kinds of things about Wooyoung, but he had an idea.
“Right but…you know that if it was true, that’s okay too, right?” he said softly.
Wooyoung pulled away and looked at San, eyes wide in surprise. San expected Wooyoung to argue, to keep on telling him that it was all nonsense, but instead he bit his lip anxiously and nodded slowly.
They were just looking at each other now, Wooyoung’s eyes wide with concern, searching San’s face, trying to find any hint that San had a problem with what he’d not quite confessed with his silence. With their faces so close, San could see the little mole under his eye, there was one on his mouth too. On his pretty, pink, soft looking pout.
Wooyoung was cute, San decided; his eyes kept flicking down to his lips, if he moved a little, he’d be able to touch them with his. They’d already been embracing each other for a good few minutes now, a kiss wouldn’t change anything, right?
San wasn’t even sure why he wanted to kiss Wooyoung right now, he’d never wanted to kiss a boy before. But the idea wouldn’t go away no matter how hard he tried to think about anything else. If he’d read into Wooyoung’s silence correctly, it meant that he wanted to kiss boys too. And maybe, just maybe he’d be okay if one of those boys was San.
If nothing else, maybe it would comfort Wooyoung and make him feel better, if he felt the way San thought he did, then he needed proof that it was all okay, that there was nothing wrong with him. One of San’s hands reached up and cupped Wooyoung’s face, who looked back at him in confusion. Wooyoung shivered as San pulled their faces closer, building up the courage to take the final plunge.
The door to the bathroom flew open, and the last people San wanted to see stalked inside. At the sound of the door opening, San shoved Wooyoung away from him, so hard that Wooyoung bumped into the wall.
“What the fuck?” Hanwool roared.
His fists were already clenched, he was glaring maniacally, but not at San, his eyes were directly on Wooyoung.
“There’s no way I just saw what I think I did?” he hissed.
“Hanwool…” San started, trying to come up with an explanation.
“That little faggot attacked you, didn’t he? He was trying to force himself on you!” Hanwool spat.
It was silent for a few seconds, Hanwool stared at San, waiting for him to say something, anything. San’s mind went blank, he couldn’t figure out how to come up with an explanation as to why he and Wooyoung were holding each other, why it looked like they were about to kiss. He could have told the truth, that he cared about Wooyoung, that he wanted to be his friend, that he wanted to kiss him. But Hanwool would probably beat his ass if he admitted to any of that. In hindsight it wasn’t a big deal, he could take the beating, he could become an outcast just like Wooyoung.
They could finally be friends. It probably would have been a good thing, to be around someone so genuine and hardworking rather than spending his time with a bunch of deadbeats. But back then, as a stupid teenager who just wanted to fit in and be one of the cool kids, the very idea of admitting the truth, tore him up inside. The fear of being beaten, having his reputation tarnished, felt like a fate worse than death. It was then San made one of the worst decisions he could have.
San squeezed his eyes shut and nodded.
“San!” Wooyoung squeaked as Hanwool flew across the room and grabbed the pristine collar of Wooyoung’s shirt.
“You sick freak, I’ll teach you not to put your hands on my cousin!” Hanwool growled.
Hanwool and two of his friends dragged Wooyoung into one of the cubicles. San stood there frozen in the middle of the room. He couldn’t see what was going on, but he could definitely hear it. Wooyoung screaming and begging them to stop, the sound of fists and shoes pounding into flesh, the sound of Wooyoung coughing and gargling as his head was forced into the toilet. It felt like it was going on for hours, but it could have only been a few minutes. The bell to return to classes rang out, causing the assault to come to an abrupt stop. Hanwool and his friends stormed out of the bathroom.
“Come on” Hanwool muttered, as if he hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary.
San allowed his cousin to drag him out of the bathroom, ears ringing with the quiet sobs and whimpers coming from the cubical.
And of course, it didn’t end there, it never did with Hanwool. He’d told everyone what had happened but had added his own flourishes to the tale. He told everyone that he’d walked in on Wooyoung trying to forcibly undress San. It was disgusting, completely fucked up to make false accusations like that. They’d just been hugging, and it was San who had wanted to take it a little further. But San never corrected the rumours, he never said anything.
***************************************************************
“Just tell the truth…” Wooyoung whimpered quietly as he stood next to San at the bus stop one day.
Wooyoung was wiping blood from his nose, it wasn’t abnormal to see him like that anymore. Bleeding, black eyes, cuts, and scrapes. San also noticed that the self-harm had escalated, noticed all the fresh new cuts on his arms whenever his sleeves accidently rolled up during class.
“D-don’t talk to me!” San snapped, stepping away and pushing his headphones over his ears.
Wooyoung had just stared at him, mouth hanging open, tears spilling down his face. San wanted to tell the truth, put an end to all of this, but he couldn’t, he was too much of a pathetic little bitch. All San could do was keep his distance, they couldn’t be seen together, couldn’t be seen talking, it would only make things worse, give Hanwool more ammunition. In San’s mind, avoiding Wooyoung would spare him from being accused of harassing San, for being obsessed with him.
Of course, it didn’t work. Wooyoung was attacked every other day. Berated constantly with homophobic slurs. Hanwool also loved the fact that their bullying had caused Wooyoung to self-harm, offering him tips on how to do it ‘properly’ so that he’d bleed out and die. It went on, and on for weeks.
San hoped, he prayed that eventually someone would step in and put an end to all of it. But it was the coward in him talking, he was the only one who could have made it stop, the only one who could have set the record straight, but he remained silent. He’d just stand there, staring as each punch and kick landed, watched as those pretty lips, that he’d wanted to kiss so bad, split open and bled all over Wooyoung’s chin. After several weeks, something changed in Wooyoung.
Wooyoung stopped crying, he stopped begging to be left alone. He just stopped trying to fight back. He took the beatings silently, acted like he didn’t even hear the names he was being called. Whenever his eyes met San’s there was nothing there, he looked empty. He stopped talking in class, he seemed to disappear every break time, probably hiding so that he’d have a moment of peace. It was like his soul had vanished, like he couldn’t fight anymore. Then Wooyoung stopped coming to school.
There were rumours of course about what had happened to Wooyoung. One in particular that haunted San for weeks on end. One of the girls in class had told San that Wooyoung had taken his own life, because he couldn’t take the bullying anymore. Hanwool and his friends saw it as a triumph, said the world was better off with one less person like Wooyoung in it, that he deserved to die for what he had done to San. After a few weeks of searching for, and stalking Wooyoung’s mother’s social media any chance he got, San found out that wasn’t the case. Wooyoung was alive, attending family gatherings and going on trips abroad.
While photographs never told the whole story, Wooyoung’s family seemed incredibly close and loving. They had probably gotten sick and tired of their son coming home battered and bruised several times a week and decided to step in and pull him out of school. Wooyoung had only just got there, San wondered if something like this happened to Wooyoung a lot, or if his family just moved often. Either way, San was relieved that his actions, or lack of, hadn’t rid the world of such a beautiful soul. San felt better, but only slightly…
**************************************************************
Present day
“Hmm…no, name doesn’t ring a bell” San lied.
A week later San was stepping off the bus in the middle of a city he’d never seen before. His legs wobbled slightly as he walked down the street, he’d been sat in the same spot for over six hours after all and was lugging a heavy suitcase with the few items he owned behind him. San had opted to leave over half it abandoned in his dingy motel room. He didn’t need that stuff anymore; he was starting a new. San turned onto a quiet side street just in time to see someone step out of an expensive looking blue car.
“Well, well, well!” Jongho called, grin so large it looked like it hurt.
San jogged forward and embraced his cousin in a tight hug.
“Look at you!” San gasped.
He hadn’t seen Jongho since he was a teenager, his once sweet, scrawny little cousin was now a man. Jongho was buff, he obviously spent a lot of time at the gym. His hair was swooped back and styled off his forehead, a pair of expensive sunglasses resting on top of it. Jongho was also dressed in a sleek, black, well-tailored suit, San felt like a slob next to him.
Jongho winked cheekily at San and opened the trunk of his car to place the suitcase inside before motioning San to get in on the passenger’s side. They talked to one another non-stop as Jongho slowly drove them around the city. San learned that the nice car and the suit were courtesy of the company Jongho worked at, but that his not-so-little cousin was doing well for himself.
Jongho took San for something to eat, and then despite San’s protest also took him on a small shopping spree. It wasn’t anything expensive, just some nice shirts and a couple of pairs of jeans. But San felt infinitely better now that he finally had something that actually fit him to wear. They bought things for the apartment too, new towels, bedsheets etc.
As Jongho drove them to San’s new home, San felt overwhelmingly happy, he felt excited, he felt so, unbelievably grateful that Jongho was so understanding, so forgiving and so kind. It felt like a miracle, that the stars had aligned like this. But San was snapped out of his pleasant thoughts when Jongho spoke up again.
“Probably won’t have to worry about groceries for now. Your new home is never lacking in food, Wooyoung loves to cook!” Jongho chuckled.
And for the first time, San remembered who exactly he was going to be moving in with. He tried to control his breathing, Wooyoung had told Jongho that he didn’t remember San at all. Maybe he’d lied like San? Maybe one of the many hits to Wooyoung’s head had caused him memory loss? Or maybe, unlike San, Wooyoung’s life since leaving his hometown, had been so good that his high school years were insignificant? Maybe Wooyoung’s present was so good that he didn’t sit and dwell on all of his past pain and fuck ups like San did?
“Here we are!” Jongho exclaimed, pushing open the front door to the apartment before slapping the keys into San’s palm.
San looked around, the door opened directly into the spacious living room. Two comfortable looking couches, a coffee table between them, a large TV mounted on the wall. At the far end of the room was a huge window, giving a clear view of the city. They were up on the sixth floor, and San wondered what the view looked like at night, he’d bet money, if he had any, that it was beautiful.
Leading off the living room was the kitchen, it was also a good size, plenty of space for cooking, equipped with everything he could ever need, including a washer-dryer and a coffee machine. There was a small hallway with three doors. Jongho showed San the bathroom, and then his own room. San couldn’t wait to fall asleep on the soft-looking, queen-sized bed that night. Jongho helped San put his new clothes away and helped him make his bed. As they left San’s room, Jongho knocked on the door to the room next to his. But there was no reply.
“Ah, Wooyoung’s probably still at work” Jongho shrugged.
San and Jongho chilled for a few hours, mostly in the kitchen, drinking coffee and eating a few snacks. San felt like his stomach was going to fall out of his ass when he heard the sound of keys jingling outside before a lock clicked and the door open.
“Breaking and entering, that’s a new one for you Jongho!” a voice called out.
San’s heart hammered in his chest. That was definitely Wooyoung, his voice was a little deeper, but he sounded the same, sweet, cheerful, and soft. Jongho laughed and stood to his feet strolling over to the front door.
“Hey Woo!” he shouted, and the two of them hugged each other affectionately.
When they pulled away San had time to look at Wooyoung properly, memories flooding back like a dam had been broken. Same curved nose, same bright, brown eyes, same adorable little mole underneath one of them. Wooyoung’s hair was much longer, shiny, and black, tied into a messy ponytail on top of his head. He was a little taller too, as to be expected. But that’s not what surprised San the most.
Wooyoung was tiny, clothes almost hanging off his small frame. The extreme loss of weight had caused his cheekbones and jawline to stand out more, making his face look prettier, model-like. San’s body had changed a lot too since his teenage years, but he’d bulked up, gained more muscle, and filled out, Wooyoung had gone the opposite way. Wooyoung was dressed in a blue nurse’s uniform with little pawprint patterns over the pockets. He made it then, Wooyoung had the job he’d always wanted.
After a little back and forth, Wooyoung’s eyes peeked over Jongho’s shoulder and focused directly onto San. San was ready to fall to his knees, cry, beg for forgiveness, offer to pack his bags, and go live out on the streets. But Wooyoung beamed at him, friendly, welcoming. There wasn’t a shred of recognition on his face, not the slightest hint behind his eyes that he knew who San was. His expression was kind, a little shy, how you’d smile at someone you were being introduced to for the first time.
“San! It’s so nice to finally meet you!”