perhaps, you | woosan

Chapter Thirteen

POV: Wooyoung

Jung Wooyoung was an impatient man.

He hated waiting, setting aside whether he himself was punctual or not. The thought that San could be caught up with work flashed his mind, which kept him away from calling and resolved in texting.

Wooyoung

Yo

Where you at??

The tapping of his feet became louder as the clock ticked. The first fifteen minutes, Wooyoung was frustrated, thinking of what more the poor man can do for him. The next fifteen minutes, he felt a worry crawl in. It's not like something has happened to him...but what if? The fact that he didn't pick up his call wasn't helping.

Right when Wooyoung couldn't sit back and wait anymore, shooting up from the bench to look for San, he saw the man in question approach him hurriedly.

"I'm sorry," the man let out in between catching a breath. Wooyoung could see how he was out of breath and how a trail of sweat rolled down his neck, but his frustration wasn't ready to cool down.

"Where were you?? I even called you and yet-"

"I'm sorry. I lost my phone," San quickly replied, pulling Wooyoung's hand to the food stall. "Here, weren't you going to empty my wallet?"

Something was off. San looked like he was in a hurry, more so than Wooyoung. Then he realised that the male was avoiding his eyes, not facing him from the front.

"San, what's wrong?"

"Aren't we already late for the movie? Choose and let's watch," he chuckled, still refusing to look at him, his eyes falsely glued to the colourful electric board promoting the cinema's highly recommended pineapple flavoured popcorn.

"San!" If he wasn't going to face him, he was going to make him. He pulled San's arm and turned him, first meeting his slightly widened eyes, but soon shifted on his right cheek.

"What the-"

Having exposed what he was trying to hide, San looked flustered, turning away only showing his left profile. But Wooyoung's sharp eyes didn't miss how his usual smooth and silky cheek was now slightly swollen, flushed in an unusual colour of purplish red.

Wooyoung didn't allow San to look away. He cupped his cheek, careful not to squeeze him on the right, and turned to face him. "WHO DID THIS TO YOU!?"

He roared, forgetting he was in a cinema with people around. He couldn't feel people's troubled stare. All he could see was San and his painful cheek, through his enraged crimson view.

"No one. I was in a hurry and dumbass me bumped on an electric pole, that's it," he replied jokingly, curving his lips as if to say it wasn't anything serious, but Wooyoung wasn't buying it—even a nanometre.

"BULLSHIT," he hissed. "Is it that homophobic jackass from the party? GOD, I knew he needed more beating-"

Wooyoung was about to take off in fury, with a goal of hunting down that guy. He of course didn't know where he could find him, he didn't even know his name—but he swore whatever measure needed, he'd chase him down to the end of the world and make him regret he was even born.

"No, it's not him!" San grabbed Wooyoung's arm instantly, refusing to let the man pounce on some poor innocent guy. Wooyoung gave San a stare, demanding for an explanation. He wasn't going to let it slide. San exhaled deeply before he opened his mouth.

"It was my...uh, friend. Ex, not anymore," he started. "He wanted to play with me, and I rejected him...quite brutally. And he punched me, the end."

"You let him punch you? Why didn't you fight back? Or call me to help you out??"

"Because we promised a movie night, Woo," San smiled softly. And Wooyoung could only shut up. "I didn't want to ruin it with a cheap fight."

Wooyoung closed his eyes, let out a deep sigh trying to release the built up heat, then commented, "well, not anymore."

San gave a puzzled look. He quickly took San's hand in his, and a step forward.

"Treating your injury is the priority."

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POV: San

The two were now settled in the dorm room, seated on Wooyoung's bed, surrounded by whatever medical supplies Wooyoung had laid his hand on in the convenience store.

"I fucking need to beat up the guy," Wooyoung growled, pressing a bag of ice on San's cheek. San winced, but he only pressed further.

"Everything is solved," San eased. "We won't see each other again."

"But-"

"Do you want to be grounded again?"

Wooyoung bit his lip at the line, evident frustration transcending to his action, firmly thrusting the bag on San's face, almost pushing him away. San let out an ah, cowering, but the man was brutal.

"We need to go find your lost phone," Wooyoung spoke.

"Ah, that," San swished a rectangular object from his phone and tossed it next to Wooyoung. The entire screen was cracked, imitating a lighting in the night sky. "That guy smashed my phone."

Yelling, 'you better cut all the ties!' as a parting shot. San had saved so many contacts of his buddies in that phone, and now that was gone, he didn't remember anyone's number. So, yes, the guy proved his point. And for underprivileged San, getting a new phone was a heavy blow—intentional or not.

A hue of red flashed in Wooyoung's eyes again and San felt anxious. "It was an old phone anyway. About time I changed."

He glanced at the phone looking like he wanted to fume a word or two, but didn't.

"I'm sad that our movie night got cancelled," San pouted, willfully changing the topic.

The glint in Wooyoung's eyes faded, replaced with a softness, "we can always go again."

His touch was now gentler, attentively treating San's wound—a tender touch as though he was cradling a cat. He took his time—perhaps too much time that San's eyelids drooped slowly, curtaining his vision in darkness.

He had a long day. And his tightened string had finally cut off, unable to fight the gravity pulling him in slumber.