MISSING, jongsang

27 ; party balloons

t/w: panic attack and mentions of murder

———

wind whooshing ferociously from the window by his side, yeosang grumbled as he gained consciousness. pulling the duvet cocooning his shivering body up to his chin, his eyelids fluttered open, blinking several times against the urge to fall back asleep.

you don't want to be late for school, yeosang motivated himself, sitting up on his bed and—

oh. it wasn't his bed.

the light colours surrounding yeosang strained his tired eyes, contrasting powerfully with the usual black he woke up to, and as he rubbed the remains of sleep away with his fists, reality came back to him: he wasn't at home; he probably wouldn't be at school today, either — a win, he couldn't not admit; and how could he forget, wooyoung was back! which also meant...

no. yeosang shook his head aggressively. you aren't going to be upset over him. you can't be.

swinging his legs off of the mattress, yeosang's toes met the freezing cold floor. he trudged himself through san's room — the previous night, the pear-haired boy had insisted that him and wooyoung would be fine in the spare — towards the bathroom.

letting the door click shut behind him, yeosang stared blankly at the disheveled reflection he was faced with. he rubbed his fingers over the dark eye-bags belonging to the boy in the mirror, his emotionless gaze blurring up with salty fluid. refusing to dwell over his lover, yeosang splashed water onto his face, the icy temperature waking him up completely.

smearing the minty paste from the cupboard by his right onto his toothbrush — another thing san had lent him for his stay — yeosang simultaneously slipped his pants down from his waist and sat himself onto the toilet seat.

after being finished with the bathroom, clothes from yesterday which were previously hung on the back of the door now thrown over his frame, yeosang headed out. he laid san's old pair of pyjamas, folded neatly, at the end of the younger's bed, before glancing into the mirror opposite him. bringing a few strands of blond hair over his eyes — the pink hue had completely faded out by now — he eventually figured he looked put together enough. so with that, he left the room.

the smell of food sizzling clouded yeosang's senses instantly, and as he turned the corner into the kitchen, he was met with the back of san's head by a stove. a huge sweater engulfing his frame, almost reaching his knees, the pear-haired boy was humming the same melody from last time, yeosang recognised, the night they fell apart.

and, against his will, the events of that night replayed inside of his head, as his feet padding against the wooden floor caused san to notice his presence.

"oh! g'morning, yeosangie!"

it seemed that, even after all that yeosang had put him through, the boy hadn't lost his optimism. and it only made yeosang blame himself even more.

"hi, san," yeosang finally responding, falling onto a stool behind the counter. "uhm, what are you making?"

"woo's favourite today!"

"pancakes," yeosang mumbled with a smile, before san even needed to continue.

san grinned, flipping the last pancake and adding it onto the dozen, or so, stacked up on a decorative plate. yeosang made out the dimples which lifted his cheeks, hands down the happiest he'd ever seen the latter.

"i'm sorry," yeosang blurted the words out before his brain had time to register what the outcome would be, good or bad. "f-for, you know... everything i've done."