hiraeth | woosan

you

After cleaning up the mess on their faces, Wooyoung prompts, "Let's go to the bed, hm?"

"But I'm not sleepy."

"We can talk while lying down." Wooyoung gives a yawn. "I'm tired."

"Do ghosts get tired?"

Wooyoung jumps off the couch, and tilts his head slightly, only enough to show his cocky curve on his lips. "You'll get to know it in seventy years, my dear."

Lying on a bed with Wooyoung is a much familiar feeling San had missed. He isn't able to spoon him, neither is Wooyoung, but he can stare into his eyes and get lost in them, when they lie side by side.

"Wooyoung-ah," San calls.

"Yeah?" he replies, because he's there. He's right here, just a few centimeters away from him.

"I'm sorry," San says, his voice hoarse than usual.

Wooyoung just blinks, letting San take his moment. What was he sorry for? Sorry for not being able to avoid fate? Sorry for being wrecked? Sorry for making you cry?

He can't really place a finger on it, and Wooyoung doesn't probe. Like he knows what he means, like he always seems to know what San himself doesn't.

"It's okay, Sannie," Wooyoung says, his voice soft. "It's okay. You know why?"

This time San blinks, quietly waiting.

"Because I love you." Light flickers in Wooyoung's eyes. They are gorgeous. "I love you."

"I love you too, Young-ah," San whispers, he feels a choke in his throat. "I love you so-"

Wooyoung leans in, and San shuts his eyes, because that is the most natural thing to do. He thinks he feels the softness and warmth on his lips. He breathes out. He flickers his eyes open.

Watching Wooyoung smile at him, San realises how much he took it for granted.

Maybe time isn't as cruel as San thought it was.

He wishes it stopped, he wishes he could turn it back, but he can't. What he can do, is to take in all the 'I love you's, take in all the smiles and laughters, take in all the pieces of Wooyoung and know its worth, for forever do not exist.

It's precious, because they only have right now, at this moment.

In this brief moment of the entire universe, I have you. I had you.

The night dips in with the rhythm of the stories they share, lightly and gently. San watches Wooyoung as Wooyoung watches San, drinking in every piece of each other, and they blink as though they release the shutter to frame every single second.

The blinks get longer. The night is waning.

"I'll sing you a lullaby," Wooyoung whispers.

"Hold my hand," San asks, feeling the consciousness slowly trudging away.

"Of course, Sannie," Wooyoung says.

San doesn't see, but he can feel Wooyoung's hand holding his hand. It's warm, it's soft, and it's everything that makes San want to cry—just like how he sings, as though San is sinking in the bosom of a never ending blossoming spring field.

"Goodnight, my angel, time to close your eyes,

And save these questions for another day.

I think I know what you've been asking me,

I think you know what I've been trying to say.

I promised I would never leave you,

Then you should always know,

Wherever you may go, no matter where you are,

I never will be far away—"