beg • woosan (book 2)

35

it's the way this story was supposed to end at chapter 25,(the original plot) lol anyways do y'all like long chapters? or should my max be 2000 words? lmk! comment.

thank for the ones who do ! posting the yungi ver that's connected to this alternative world lmao this week. so have that on a look out. pondering on what to call it.
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The police station was a stark, sterile place, the kind where the fluorescent lights seemed to strip away any warmth. Wooyoung sat stiffly in the uncomfortable chair, his fingers intertwined with San's, who was a solid presence beside him. Despite the coldness of the room, San's hand was a lifeline, grounding Wooyoung as he recounted his ordeal.

"I also received a box... it was filled with old photos," Wooyoung's voice trembled as he spoke, "explicit ones, of me. It was from Yeosang." He couldn't bring himself to meet the officer's gaze, so he fixed his eyes on the faded linoleum floor, allowing the memories to wash over him. "I've been scared... I'm fearing for my life."

San's grip on Wooyoung's hand tightened, a silent vow of protection and support. He could feel the tremors coursing through Wooyoung's body and wished he could take his pain away.

The officer behind the desk jotted down notes, his expression unreadable. He'd seen cases like this too often, but the fear in Wooyoung's eyes was a stark reminder of the person behind the report.

"You did the right thing coming here," the officer said, his tone professional yet not without empathy.

Wooyoung glanced at San, his eyes reflecting a storm of emotions—fear, gratitude, love. San simply nodded, his response to Mingi's question from the night before hanging in the air between them. Wooyoung was more important than any job; he was San's world.

"Guys..." the police officer began, clearly sensing the urgency but also the language barrier that was complicating the situation. He looked up, seeking assistance within the precinct. Spotting his colleague, he didn't hesitate. "Ah, Johnny, I need help here," he called out confidently.

Johnny, the Korean-American detective who had recently made the move to Chicago, looked up from his paperwork. His presence was a blend of American confidence and Korean understanding, making him an invaluable bridge between two worlds within the precinct. With a nod, he stood and walked over to where San and Wooyoung sat, his approach signaling both authority and empathy.

"What's going on?" Johnny asked in English, before seamlessly switching to Korean for Wooyoung and San's benefit, "How can i help you?"

Wooyoung's composure shattered, tears streaming down his face as the weight of the situation bore down on him. San let out a heavy sigh, his protective instincts kicking in as he turned to Johnny, the detective who had just arrived.

"We were putting a restraining order on my husband's ex. He assaulted him and sent a box of private photos. Now, those photos are all over my workplace," San explained, the frustration and concern evident in his voice.

Understanding the gravity of the situation, Johnny nodded, his detective instincts taking over. San, in turn, translated the situation for the non-Korean speaking officer, ensuring everyone was on the same page.

Johnny's attention shifted to the phone San offered him, scrolling through the texts with Eric thag was written in hangul. "Who's Hendery? Is he a suspect?" he inquired, looking up.

"He's a coworker who hassles me, but he wouldn't have access to these photos," San clarified, his voice firm. He then asked for a moment of privacy with Johnny's approval.

"Come, let's go to the bathroom," San said, gently pulling Wooyoung out of his seat, guiding him away from the prying eyes of the precinct.

"San, I'm sorry," Wooyoung whispered between sobs, the guilt and shame overwhelming him. "Your life is stressful because of me, and you don't—"