❝ 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬❞ Months have passed since San left behind everything he ever desired, determined to confront the demons that had him spiraling without reprieve. Cursed and bound by fate, it became increasingly difficult for him no...
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《 ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- 𝐒𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 》
The passage of time was an indistinct haze, punctuated only by the persistent throb of pain that clung to me, a relentless reminder of the ordeal I had endured. Amidst this fog of discomfort, a touch as light as a feather caressed my face, its warmth and delicacy a stark contrast to the pain that had become my constant companion. This gentle contact coaxed my tense muscles into a semblance of relaxation, urging my eyelids to part in a slow, deliberate motion.
As my eyes blinked open, adjusting to the soft light, I turned my head slightly to find Wooyoung beside me. His presence was a silent anchor, his eyes, brimming with tears, were also alight with a warmth and tenderness that enveloped me wholly. He cradled my cheek, his touch a grounding force, as I searched his face for any hint of uncertainty. Instead, I was met with an unguarded expression of joy and relief that made my heart flutter in response.
"I love you too sannie. You came back to me," Wooyoung's voice broke through the silence, a soft murmur laden with emotion and a tremble that spoke volumes of his relief and love.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left... I was just so scared that you'd hate me because of everything with Minho and Jisung," I managed to whisper, my voice strained and barely audible, reflecting the dryness that had settled in my throat and the depth of my fear.
Wooyoung's touch on my cheek remained steady, a tangible reminder of his presence, his commitment. "You don't ever have to be sorry for feeling lost or scared. I could never hate you. We were both navigating through darkness," he said, his voice a soothing balm.
I watched Wooyoung for a moment, a silent communication passing between us. With a flicker of resolve, I attempted to lift my hand towards him, only to be met with a sharp jolt of pain that coursed through my arm. A grunt of frustration escaped me as I let my hand fall back, the movement sending another wave of pain rippling through me.
Seeing my struggle, Wooyoung's expression shifted to one of immediate concern. He gently sat up and carefully slipped off the bed, moving with a purpose. With a tenderness that seemed to fill the room, he helped adjust me into a more comfortable sitting position, despite my involuntary winces.
Then, noticing my dry lips and the effort it took for me to speak, he quickly grabbed a cup of water from the bedside table. Holding it with steady hands, he brought it to my lips, allowing me to drink and moisten my parched throat.
"I canbdo this. You don't have to, Woonie," I whispered, the words barely escaping after taking a sip, the vulnerability of my situation weighing heavily on me. Despite the physical pain, the thought of imposing such a burden on Wooyoung felt like a different kind of ache.
