IT'S MAGIC!, woosan

12 • past history!

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Wooyoung

"Wait," I begin as soon as San's finished talking. He still paces around though, his eyes repeatedly darting elsewhere. They don't seem to be present at all, but someplace else, someplace faraway. "San, what do you mean?"

San doesn't respond. He keeps moving, his hands fisted and unable to stay still. It gets me worried, and a little bit afraid.

"San?" I walk up to him, and impulsively grab his wrist before I can think too much about it. Immediately, sparks ignite under my skin, and my heart squeezes beneath the confines of my ribcage. My words get stuck in my throat the moment San's red eyes meet mine, round and startled. But for once though, I don't drop my hand, but keep it in place. I have a feeling that San prefers it like that too.

"Wooyoung," San says, his tone low and breathy. Up close, I spot the way his chest rapidly falls and rises, but then he breaks eye contact, glaring at the floor. His long lashes flutter over the smooth expanse of his cheeks, and I internally smack myself in the head.

Jung Wooyoung, now is NOT the time to be thinking about how attractive San is.

"San," I clear my throat to try and rid myself of these stupid thoughts I'm having. No matter how pretty San is, I can't only be focusing on that right now. There are more pressing factors that need to be addressed. "What's going on? How -- how am I in danger?"

San inhales a sharp breath, his eyebrows creased like he's thinking hard about something. He looks unsure, uncomfortable. Scared.

A part of me feels like I'm coming off a bit too strong and nosy, so I place a hand on San's shoulder, prompting him to look directly at me. "It's okay if you don't wanna talk about it now. Just breathe and relax, okay? I'll always be there to listen."

Guilt flashes across San's ruby irises, and he quickly shakes his head. "No, you need to know." He takes a step closer, which totally catches me off-guard. And then he's the one holding my wrist in his grip.

His hold isn't too tight, but it's just enough to warm my entire neck up. It's weird how just one touch from him can affect me like this. Wooyoung, get a grip.

San's fingers run down my palm and along the veins, feathery light and careful. Despite his gentle movement, my knees feel a few seconds away from weakening and falling over.

"Tell me Wooyoung, do you think a lot about me lately?"

"Er," I start, because I genuinely don't know how to answer that. It'll sound creepy if I say yes, and if I say no, then I'll be lying to San. And the thought of lying to him makes this feeling of dread envelope my insides. "I..."

"Don't lie to me," San commands. His eyes keep observing my wrist, his fingers still stroking over the skin. His eyes are now narrowed, the enchanting red in them dimming. I resist the urge to hold his face in my hands and smoothen out his frown.