I'm so exhausted. I've worked ten to six all week and feel like I've done nothing with my days. Less tired but still long hours trust me.

...

Wooyoung's POV

...

"Wooyoung, come on. He didn't mean it..."

"Wooyoung, come out. You don't need to hide. Everyone's done laughing anyway."

"Mr. Jung, come out of that stall right now."

"Wooyoung, please..."

No, you don't understand. I can't. They'll laugh. They'll make fun of me. They'll mock my saving grace. My happy place. How could you? How could you? How could you?

I wasn't entirely sure how long I stayed locked in the boys' bathroom stall. Long enough for both my teachers and a janitor to try and coax me out. But the truth was I just couldn't. I felt numb all over, but it also felt like a million microscopic needles were jabbing me all at once. I sat huddled as far away from the door as possible, squished between the toilet and the wall. I hugged my knees to my chest, my face buried in them, willing away the hopeless feeling spreading across my body.

San, how could you?

I shuddered as another sob wracked me, though my tears had long since dried. I probably couldn't produce any more liquid if I tried. I sunk my nails into my dress pants, clinging to anything physical. Anything to keep me grounded. Keep me sane. I bunched the material in my fist, curling myself a little smaller.

How could you hate me this much?

"Wooyoung hyung?" I froze as a new voice spoke. One that wasn't Yeosang or a teacher. A young one. "That was so shitty of him, huh?" Jongho asked. I raised my head slightly, sniffing and dabbing at my already dry eyes. "Whatever happened in the past didn't warrant that." I let him talk, curious as to what he had to say. Finally, he sighed, and the sound of soft footsteps echoed off the walls. They paused for a brief moment. "I'm sorry. We should have been better friends to you."

"Jongho..." I croaked, but it already felt too late. The opportunity had passed. Though Jongho's one-sided conversation left me with way more questions than answers. I sniffed again, glancing to the ceiling. I closed my eyes and waited for this feeling to pass. This stuffy, claustrophobic feeling, like the walls were closing in on all sides. But it wasn't leaving. It clawed at me. Sunk its teeth in me. Wrapped and warped around me.

"Stop, go away!" I pleaded, clapping my hands over my ears. "Stop it! Stop bothering me!"

What did I ever do to you to deserve this?

"Wooyoung." Yeosang. Slowly my hands dropped to my sides. "It's the end of school. Come on. Let's get you home. You'll feel better there."

"Go away," I told him even if all he was to me was sweet and loving. "They'll... they'll just laugh at me. I'm different, Yeosang. Why wouldn't they?"

"Everyone's already forgotten about it," he insisted. "Please? You'll worry your mother." I shook my head even though he couldn't see it, burying my face again. He sighed. "Sure you're different from everyone else, but that's not a bad thing." Silence stretched between us, thin and taunt, suffocating. He sighed again, and I pictured him standing on the other side of the door, smoothing his hair back out of frustration. "San's an asshole. You shouldn't let him stop you though."

"I'm not," I argued. And it was at least half the truth. I wasn't. I was stopping myself. The voices in my head stopped me.

Why do you hate me?

"There you go," Yeosang coaxed when I finally nudged the stall door open. I peeked out, not sure what to expect. An empty bathroom greeted me, and beyond that a dark hallway. Yeosang smiled, and I was a bit taken aback by the cut on his lip. My fingers flew up and brushed against it. He jerked, then laughed sheepishly. "I kind of got into a scrap with a few kids," he said with an embarrassed shrug.

"Are you okay?" I asked, concerned he'd fought on my behalf. He nodded, gently hooking his arm through mine. We walked arm in arm outside the school and towards my house. Yeosang sneered at anyone who dared look at us, which I thought was a bit overkill, but I also didn't stop him.

Am I really that bad?

"Hello Mrs. Jung," Yeosang greeted as he steered me into my own house. Mom looked up, her cheery smile dropping at what I assumed to be my distraught expression. She opened her mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it. Her lips drew into a thin line. I could still feel her eyes on us as we made our way up the stairs.

Does no one love me?

Yeosang sat me on my bed, his hands on my shoulders, his expression boring into mine. I felt my lower lip quiver ever so slightly, and to my surprise tears pooled at the corners of my eyes. I held my arms out to him. His expression, once happy, now crumbled as he embraced me. I buried my face in his shirt. He patted my back, but didn't say much of anything.

How could you hate the thought of me loving something so fiercely you've made it your personal mission to destroy it?

How could you ruin the only thing that brought me happiness.

I hope you're happy with yourself.

I hope you find joy in my sorrow.

Damn it San, how could you do this to me?

We were friends once. What happened?

How could you? How could you? How could you...

...

San's POV

...

I hissed as Yunho pressed a new ice pack to my cheek, but quieted down at his stern look. I brushed my fingers along the skin. It felt like someone stuffed a balloon in my cheek and inflated it as far as it would go. But I deserved it. I deserved every punishment coming my way, whatever it was.

"You deserve this you know," Yunho pointed out. I shot him a withering look. It wasn't like he was entirely innocent in this situation, even if it had been my idea originally. I looked pointedly at him until he glanced away. "We all do," he mumbled.

"I can't believe Wooyoung has been..." I let that thought trail off, still unable to comprehend everything happening, even if it had been hours since it happened. I put my head in my hands, winching when pain shot up my cheek. "Wait." I jerked back up, rising from my bed and madly scrambling to find my phone that I'd tossed away earlier. Once I located it (under Shiber) I opened Wattpad. My heart crawled into my throat when I saw a new message.

Hey. Um. So. I don't know if I'm going to continue the story any time soon. Something happened in my real life, and I don't think I'm in the best mental state to keep it up. I'm sorry. I know you, and all the others, were really waiting for the final chapter.

It's been...tough. Extremely. I don't know what I did, but this guy at my school... it's like he's made it his mission to tear me down. He mocks me whenever he can. He writes things on my locker. He just... He hates me and I don't know why. What did I do to him?

What's wrong with me?

"Oh Wooyoung, I'm so sorry," I whispered. I lowered my phone, soaking everything in for a couple seconds. Wooyoung didn't realize who I was on here. For all he knew, I was a thousand miles away, up early or late, talking through a phone screen like we had any chance of meeting. He didn't know that SecretARMY378 was mere blocks away from him. And he was the source of his pain.

Sorry. I know I shouldn't be telling this to you. You probably don't care about it at all. But... sometimes it feels like I have no one. And you're the only one who hasn't made me feel that way. In a strange, twisted kind of way. I really wish you were here right now. I could really use you. I need someone, anyone, before the waves really do crash into me and I'm swept away.

Okay. See you.

I sunk against my pillows, frowning so hard at my phone I was surprised my face didn't fall off. Yunho met my gaze and arched an eyebrow. I just shook my head. Anything Wooyoung and I talked about on Wattpad was a secret. But right now it felt wrong to try and reply to him. To comfort him. Especially because he didn't know who was really behind the screen. He was talking directly to the person who "hated him."

For weeks he'd been telling me about his struggles at school. About his bullies and how he despised the treatment thrust upon him. He told me all the things he was afraid to tell everyone else in his life because he believed me to be a good person. A trustworthy one. He didn't expect me to actually be that person. And I'd never put the pieces of the puzzle together.

He was talking about me. I was the asshole bully. And never had I hated myself more.

Would it have changed if you'd known? It never stopped you before. This revelation is worthless. You're still his bully. You had your chance to feel bad about it. But you didn't.

"I never really wanted to hurt him!" I suddenly exploded, startling Yunho, who leapt up from the chair he'd been occupying. "I didn't..." But I abruptly stopped. I'd been about to say I'd never meant to take it this far. But I had. I'd known exactly what I was doing. "I didn't want to hurt him. Not really. I just wanted to laugh at him."

You've destroyed him. You're no better than your dad. Taking everything you love and ruining it.

"San?" I glanced up wearily to meet Yunho's concerned gaze. He reached out and pressed the ice pack back to my cheek, though now it felt too warm to be of any use. I took it from his fingers and cradled it against my cheek. Yunho studied me silently, his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. I huffed, looking away.

"I didn't know you still had Shiber," he said at last. My free hand instantly curled itself into his plush. "We all assumed you'd thrown him out in year seven."

"Yeah, well," I began sarcastically, then thought better of it. "I never had the heart. I've had him for so long. He was my favorite toy." I stroked his head softly with my thumb. But Yunho's face morphed like he remembered something.

"Mom told me about Shiber!" he said. I cocked my head, urging him to continue. "Our parents were friends when we were all small and would get us together. I'm pretty sure Shiber was a birthday present from your first birthday. From Wooyoung's family." I looked down, my fingers stilling. Shiber, my precious pup, was a gift? From tiny Wooyoung? Why didn't I remember that? Why couldn't I remember that? He'd just...been there. In all my childhood photos he was there. Every sleepover I'd been to he came with. He was a part of my life. Just as much as these guys have been.

"Okay," was all I could think to say. Wooyoung was so integrated into my life and I didn't even know it. How could I? Maybe the signs have been here all along and I've been too blind to see any of them. Or maybe I just didn't want to believe it. That maybe a small part of me always still longed for those good old days when my group of friends was still intact and we weren't at each other's throats. I turned a blind eye in favor of my reputation. "I fucked up," I blurted.

"Yeah," Yunho agreed, then sighed, slouching over so low he nearly folded himself in half. "We all did San. We all fucked up. Mingi and I are no better. We never discouraged any of this. Hell, most of the time we encouraged it. We're so stupid." He yanked at his hair, tearing a few strands in the process, while I watched on, this sickly feeling crawling up my throat. We were stupid. Incredibly so. "We have to make this up to him some way," Yunho finally continued, sitting up and finally meeting my gaze.

"I'm out of ideas," I admitted. Nor did I want anymore of them. Not right now. Not when he felt at his absolute lowest. Not when he felt he had no one to turn to. Not when he felt like he was drowning.

You're the one who threw him out. You're his worst storm. You're his crashing waves. You will be the cause of his demise.

No. No. No...

...

Hey. Uh. Surprise? Good to know Blue Rose still makes for a great writing spam song.