Trust

Take Care.

Take care. San furiously scribbles on his paper, almost ripping it in half. Originally, he had planned on writing a new song. He really wanted to – because all the great musicians and composers he knows have written about great emotions. And isn't it best to write about anger or fury or heartbreak while you're feeling it yourself? Doesn't that make the song better, more authentic and believable?

But somehow, it just doesn't seem to work today. Nothing works today. San is about to bang his head against his desk from frustration, just when his phone dings with a new message.

Wooyoung? Heart thumping in his chest and a thousand thoughts swirling through his head, San immediately throws his pen aside and unlocks the phone – only to find out that he didn't get a text message but an email. From uni. Who the fuck writes uni mails on a frickin' Sunday? Irritated, San swipes the mail from his message board. Mails on a Sunday, that's uni at its finest. So now the teachers don't even want to leave him the little bit of free time he's got during the weekends?

Probably they just don't care.

San snorts.

But the email can't even be that important, since it didn't have one of those urgent-markers. And it's not like he wouldn't worry enough about uni on the weekdays already.

Sighing, San puts his phone aside, with the display down. Then he goes back to studying Wooyoung's note: Take care. That stupid line that Wooyoung wrote on this stupid yellow note when he left yesterday morning.

What is Take care supposed to mean? Take care of what exactly? Of not being left like a cheap one-night stand by one of the people he trusted the most? San laughs bitterly. "You're one to talk, Wooyoung." He casts an involuntarily glance at his bed. Where he and Wooyoung had slept together. And where Wooyoung had left him one and a half days ago.

Although San still hopes for a message, anything from Wooyoung – that's the only thing he's done in the past twenty-four hours: waiting and hoping.

He didn't try to contact Wooyoung – hell, he didn't even have the heart to tell his friends anything. He'd spent most of yesterday trying to wrap his head around what happened; and then he tried to distract himself from those very thoughts and memories with a pathetic mixture of Netflix, workouts, and homework.

Wooyoung probably has a reason for leaving – and it's surely not too far-fetched to guess that San himself is somehow part of that reason. Which means that Wooyoung would very likely just ignore whatever text San would send him, or however often he could try to call. And the idea of being ignored by Wooyoung hurts San's heart and pride too much.

Also, Wooyoung will be back by tomorrow anyway. They can talk then, because Wooyoung can't avoid him forever – they're sharing a flat after all.

San gulps. He doesn't really know how to feel about the prospect of facing Wooyoung again after Friday night's and Saturday morning's events. There's this stupid part of him that still cares, still adores Wooyoung – Wooyoung who's loyal to his friends, and who is so fiercely dedicated to dance... who's got a mole under his left eye... and a high-pitched, unique laugh.