CHEERLEADER, woosan

eight

tw: anxiety and mentions of suicide.

"san-ah, please talk to me," chanhee pleads, catching up to his younger brother. "please."

"there's nothing for us to talk about, hyung," san says nonchalantly. he picks up his pace, instantly feeling bad when chanhee's footsteps quicken.

"but yunho — he told me what mrs kim said about you. so don't lie to me and say it's nothing, because i know that's not true."

"since it seems like yun already told you, why should i waste my time repeating the exact same thing?" san pauses as a way to give chanhee a chance to reply, but the older doesn't take it. "exactly," mutters san.

he swings open the gate before him, its paint almost entirely peeled off, and walks to the front entrance of his house. unwillingly, san waits for chanhee to unlock the door with his keys, before rushing inside, turning to the first destination he has in mind.

racing up the first set of stairs, san blocks out chanhee's voice that's worriedly yelling his name, whilst he makes his way to their shared bedroom. the blond shuts the door behind him, throws his backpack across the room in anger, and pushes the entrance to the bathroom open.

san hastily twists the lock of the door, letting the rest of the world come to a stop as he sinks down to the ground. head falling forward, relentless tears stream out of his eyes, choked sobs escaping from his throat. breath shallowing, he clutches onto the material of his pants to stabilise himself, for it feels as if the room is spinning around him.

his knuckles turn white due to his tight grasp, as he attempts to steady his breathing; it isn't of any help, though, only worsening his state, like someone has just forced a handful of thorny petals down his throat.

everything is becoming too much for san to handle, swallowing him whole, and he so badly wishes for there to be a pause button by his fingertips to stop it all for a moment. or, better yet, for eternity.

however, he can't do that. as much as a huge part of him wants to grab the nearest blade and slice it through his skin, there's so much he has in life that he just can't let go of: his parents, chanhee, yunho, mingi, the rest of his friends... and wooyoung. the thought pierces through san's heart, but the least he can do is admit it to himself. though he doesn't even have him, he can't let go of wooyoung, not until wooyoung lets go of him first.

therefore, san eventually picks himself up from the ground, stumbling a little in the process, and reaches over to turn on the tap. he splashes the cool water onto his face, rubbing at the skin underneath his eyes to get rid of the damp splotches of tears decorating it. after wiping his face dry with a towel, he hangs it back up before gripping the door knob with a hand.

pushing the door open, san is instantly met with a pair of arms throwing themselves around his torso. although startled, he wraps his own arms around chanhee's frame, resting his head in the crook of the latter's neck.

"i'm sorry for worrying you, hyung," san mumbles, feeling guilty now that he knows chanhee was patiently waiting for him from outside of the bathroom door the entire time.

"looking out for you is never a burden, little choi, so don't be sorry."

san nods his head, caving into chanhee's warm touch and tightening his hold on him. "we... we can talk about things now. if-if the offer still stands."

silently breaking their embrace, chanhee signifies for san to follow him, as he walks towards their beds that are besides each other. the older sits down on his own, and san does the same, placing himself cross-legged on the soft duvet.