There is mentions of severe anxiety, mental health discussions, and topics relating to a car accident. Please do not read any further if these topics are sensitive to you.

⸻✧ ༺ ∞ ༻ ✧⸻

Traffic had stopped. The only thing San can see ahead of him is a line of cars, all stationary as sirens blared ahead. The snow was unrelenting, but not yet sticking to the asphalt, leaving the roads only slick and wet, thankfully not completely coated in a layer of fluffy snow. San needed to turn his car around or find a way to exit the traffic, finally receiving an email from his professor that he was canceling class and his internship study for the night, all because of the incoming weather. San wishes the email blast would've been sent sooner, but he was thankful he could at least go home and be with Wooyoung.

He had been sitting here presently for about ten minutes at this point, and traffic had still yet to move, but he tried to be patient, knowing fully well that if he were to act rash and try to rush home, he could end up getting into an accident.

A ping on his phone drags his attention away, glancing at the incoming call screen. Yunho?

"Hello?" San curiously answers, a tinge of anxiety settling over his skin.

"San. Where are you?"

"Stuck in a traffic jam. There was an accident near campus, and I can't turn around yet. Why?"

"I don't want you to panic, but Wooyoung just called me-"

"Is he okay?" San's hand immediately searches for the gearshift, settling on it with an uneasy feeling coursing through his veins.

"Something happened. He was saying that everything was gone, and he wouldn't stop saying that he was alone."

"Oh shit," San moves his gearshift back, placing his car in reverse before glancing at his overhead mirror. "His job. Yunho-"

"Oh fuck." Yunho mutters through the other line, falling silent afterwards. San begins to reverse out of his lane, spotting a parking lot to his right that he could easily turn into. Thankfully, the car behind him began backing up as well, offering him whatever space he needed as he began to turn to the right, carefully entering into the parking lot and out of horrendous traffic.

"Yunho-" San takes an uneasy breath. "One of us has to get home. Wait-? Where's Yeosang? Isn't he there?"

"No. Wooyoung said he's alone, and I just got off the phone with him. When I talked to Yeosang this morning, he said he'd be there by the time you left."

"Are you on the way back?"

"Yeah, but it's gonna be like twenty minutes, I think. I still have to make it back in this bullshit and get my partner to take over my patrol-" Yunho sounds irritated, and San can't blame him.

"I'm gonna call Seonghwa, can you try to call Yeosang or Jongho? We've got to figure out what happened."

"Yeah. Sure. Please be careful, San. The last thing any of us need right now is you wrecking your damn car."

"I'm going to be fine. I'm headed back now and I should be there within ten minutes."

"Text me when you get there if you beat me home."

"Sure thing. Bye, Yunho." San listens to Yunho hum a goodbye of some sort before ending the call, stilled at the edge of the parking lot before he looks up to inspect traffic.

He had woven his car through the rather large parking lot while talking to Yunho, finding an exit onto an opposite street that had thankfully been traffic-free. San safely pulls his car out when he's able, turning right, slowly beginning to make his way home.

At his next red light, San dials Seonghwa's number quickly.

"Hello?"

"Are you at work right now?"

"Uhm, about to be in a meeting of sorts. Why?"

"Wooyoung is alone and we don't know where Yeosang is-"

"Oh."

"I'm headed back because class was canceled. Yunho is on the way home, too. I just didn't know if you were home or at work." The light turns green, and San continues driving.

"I'm at work, but I can come back home if you need me to?"

"I don't think you have to do that, Hwa. I'd hate to drag you away-"

Just then, a series of pings alert from San's phone. Eerily, Seonghwa's phone buzzes with the same text. "San. Do you see that text?"

"No, I can't read it. I'm driving. What does it say?"

"Jongho texted the group saying that Yeosang was in a car accident while he was on the way to your apartment."

"Oh my god-" San's breath catches in his throat. "Oh my god, Hwa. I was driving to campus a-and there was an accident! I was sitting there-"

"That could just be a coincidence. Even still, you had no idea it was him. Relax. Focus on driving."

"What the fuck is happening today?" San mumbles, hands gripping the steering wheel tighter.

"I don't know. I need to call Joong, I think. I'm canceling this meeting and going home, I don't think I can work with a right mind after all of this."

"Do we need to go to the hospital or-?"

"Jongho is there with him. He said he'd text us an update in a few minutes, but he told us not to worry."

"How can I not worry?" San scoffs. "I swear Jongho has no grip on reality, sometimes."

"Focus, Sannie. Just get home to Woo. I'm gonna call Joong and fill him in. Please just text me and let me know how Woo is if I can't get out of this office in the next thirty minutes."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll do that." San assures, listening to Seonghwa mumble something to one of his associates.

"Okay. Drive safe. Bye, Sannie."

"I will. Bye, Hwa."

The call disconnects, and San is left in aching silence. He can hear his tires moving over the wet road, the hum of his car's engine, the quiet radio playing through the speakers as he sits there, driving carefully, making sure to watch his speed and braking distance.

He couldn't stop thinking about Wooyoung. He was scared, terrified even; more worried than he ever had been and there was nothing he could do except drive and pray that Wooyoung was okay. He knew Wooyoung was impulsive and he knew that he was struggling, but he hoped that this time Wooyoung would wait for him. This time was different. Wooyoung promised to be better, he had swore to San that he was going to make better decisions because he claimed that San deserved none of it. San didn't care. Wooyoung could push and pull, squeeze him tightly and then let him go, rope him back in just to set him free later; San truly did not care. San was devotedly his, and all he could do was hope that Wooyoung was sitting there and waiting.

San drives carefully, maneuvering through the slick conditions until he reaches his apartment complex, pulling into his parking space within the garage. His keys turn to the right, turning the engine off. San takes a breath, grabbing his bag and his phone, exiting the driver's seat and slamming his door shut, locking his car afterwards.

The weather was cold and brisk, thick snowflakes gently hurrying to melt onto the pavement as they scurry down through the air, dappling San's black jacket. He paces carefully towards the main doors, walking inside while being immediately greeted by warm air and a vacant lobby. San makes his way towards the stairs, hurriedly climbing upwards until reaching the landing for his floor. San pushes the door open, listening to it click shut behind him as he eventually walks up to his door, hand gently shaking as he shuffles through his keys, trying to remind himself to breathe as he unlocks the door.

"Wooyoung?" San asks, stepping inside, closing the door behind him. "Jagi?"

Silence. San swallows hesitantly, setting his bag down. "Woo? It's me. I'm back-"

Even more silence. San cuts himself off as his breath hitches, looking down and noticing that Wooyoung's usual converse were gone. His eyes travel upwards towards the key hook, now realizing that his keys are gone too.

"No." San's brow furrows, turning to look around the nearly-empty apartment. Boxes are stacked in the kitchen, today's mail scattered along the countertops with dishes still wet from this morning. San takes a few steps further inside, glancing at the couch once he notices that the pillows hadn't been moved after he had fixed them last night. The television was off, the remote still settled in the small tray resting on the coffee table. San feels his heart sink into his stomach, trying to hope that the incoming truth was a hazy nightmare, far from the reality unfolding before him.

He continues further, walking into his bedroom, spotting the bed still messily made, but taking note that Wooyoung's phone and his charger cord were missing. San closes his eyes, taking a calming breath inwards, turning back around to face the quiet living space.

The sudden shuffling of keys within the door startles San awake, looking towards the front door as it swings open. A moment of hope crosses over his eyes, relief sinking into his skin, but it all vanishes within an instant as he sees Yunho walk inside.

"San-" Yunho takes an uneasy breath, quickly glancing around the apartment. "Where is he?"

San looks away, chewing on his lip. He wasn't sure if he could admit the truth, not wanting to live through this nightmare again.

"San'ah?" Yunho asks softly, taking a tentative step forwards, setting his keys down. "Where's Woo?"

"He's-" San's brows furrow. He can feel the tears surging, a sinking realization settling like a brick in his stomach. He feels heavy; burdened. The weight of the truth sits on the tip of his tongue, and he somehow feels like he can't bring himself to speak. In a way, San feels that the moment he voices the undeniable truth, the more real it would become.

Wooyoung promised that he wouldn't do this again. He swore. But promises were just that; a promise. A hope that one would keep up their end of the deal, something not etched in stone and able to be broken. Wooyoung had claimed to hate promises, or so he had said in high school years ago, but San never thought Wooyoung would be the one to break said promise.

"He left." San admits quietly, closing his eyes, jaw tightening. The quiet that follows is almost deafening, almost as if neither male could begin to comprehend the circumstances of the situation ahead of them.

Wooyoung had left. He left again after claiming he wouldn't, and didn't hesitate to say anything to anyone about his whereabouts. He took his belongings and exited the apartment sometime after hanging up with Yunho, leaving without a trace of where he was headed.

San feels like curling up into a ball and folding into himself, letting the world around him swallow him whole until he succumbs to the pressure of being devoured. He felt hopeless, completely devoid of emotions as he stared at the floor, only keeping himself in check by letting the silence keep his mind completely numb.

He didn't know where to start. There was no way to track Wooyoung's phone, and he was almost sure that Wooyoung wouldn't answer his texts or calls if he tried to bother him considering the emotional state he must be in, though. . . it probably wouldn't hurt to try.

San opens his eyes, taking a breath, pulling his phone free from his pocket as he quickly dials Wooyoung's number, holding the phone to his ear as it rings and rings. Yunho stands near the entryway, staring at him, observing San's body language and listening in, both males hopeful that they'd hear Wooyoung's voice.

Wooyoung doesn't answer.

"San," Yunho starts carefully. "Maybe his phone is off?"

"The line wouldn't ring if his phone was off." San's voice is shaky, but he tries his best to keep his composure. "He heard his phone ring and decided to ignore my call."

Yunho's expression falters, gaze tilting towards the floor as a wave of hopelessness swings through the quiet apartment. San stares at his phone, eyes locked onto Wooyoung's contact name, wondering why Wooyoung would shut not only him, but everyone else, out.

Without thinking, San's fingers swipe until the text message chain appears, sending a rapid fire of texts through in hopes that Wooyoung will read them. Yunho doesn't say anything.

Please call me. (10:02 a.m.)

Please. I'm worried about you. (10:02 a.m.)

Just tell me you're okay. (10:03 a.m.)

Wooyoung. Please. (10:03 a.m.)

"San-" Yunho starts, but is quickly cut off by a knock at the door. San's gaze doesn't lift and remains locked onto his phone, hoping to see Wooyoung begin typing or to at least read the messages.

Yunho turns around and opens the front door, letting Seonghwa inside.

"Sorry, sorry. Roads are shit. How's Woo?" Seonghwa breathes in a rush, walking inside and straightening out his long, black coat, eyes catching sight of San immediately before he turns to look at Yunho.

"He's not here." Yunho mutters, trying to be quiet, but San hears him regardless.

You're scaring me, Wooyoung. Please. (10:03 a.m.)

I'm not mad. I never could be. I just want you home. (10:04 a.m.)

"He left?" Seonghwa asks, turning back to look at San. "He didn't say anything?"

"He called me after San had left for class this morning. We think that the library fired him or something." Yunho eyes Seonghwa curiously, watching as the male's eyes widen suddenly.

"What library does he work at? The one downtown?"

"Mhm." Yunho affirms. "Why?"

"I heard from Joong last night that it had closed down. Something about being foreclosed on?"

"Oh my god." San's head shoots up, looking at Seonghwa with wide eyes. "He said his layoff was temporary, so everything was fine. But now he's actually losing his job. . . it all makes sense. He said that everything was gone, didn't he?"

"He did." Yunho's eyes widen as he pieces the parts together, finally seeing the entire image.

"So officially losing his job broke him?" Seonghwa asks out loud, looking between Yunho and San.

"It's what broke him last time." San says softly, looking down at his phone again. All of his messages continue to remain on delivered. "He shut me out when he lost that shitty office job in the summer. Remember when he broke his mirror?"

"Yeah. I do." Seonghwa sighs.

"We went to the bar that night and that's when he kissed me again, because he thought he was losing me to some chick I had met. And. . . y'know how the rest of the night went. He left the apartment the next morning after I had told him about that dumbass girl from the beach house and what she did to him. He told me that it felt like his entire world was falling apart-"

Seonghwa can hear San's voice break, and he immediately steps closer to put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Sannie, it's alright. He's fine. Wooyoung isn't stupid. He's going to take care of himself."

"I can't trust that." San sniffles, hand subconsciously gripping his phone tighter as he stares down at his messages again. "He's broken promise after promise after promise and I-"

San finally breaks. The tears that he had spent the last five minutes avoiding finally rain down in a rush. His chest heaves, feeling a sense of failure sink into his pores. San wanted to help Wooyoung in any way that he could, and he so desperately tried to show him ways out of his own sheltered darkness, but it wasn't enough. Everything San did felt pointless, unable to avoid Wooyoung crashing back into the depths of the ocean, floating away from the safety of San's reaching hand. Wooyoung was still drowning, water filling his lungs, creatures from the depths pulling him down by his ankles and swallowing him; and all San could do was watch.

Seonghwa engulfs San into a hug the minute his tears begin falling. San slowly hugs him back, phone still trapped in his palm, screen lit up as he waits for a message, hopeful for any sign of Wooyoung responding. But they still all remain unread.

"We just need to do what we did last time, Sannie." Yunho tries to reassure, stepping closer, smoothing his hand down San's lower back. "Search his favorite places, go to visit places he frequents. . . maybe check the new apartment in case he went there to be alone?"

"I don't think he'd go there," Seonghwa mentions. "Last time he went to the bar he kissed San in, right?"

Yunho nods.

"So what if he went to some place that brings him a sense of comfort?" Seonghwa curiously asks, watching Yunho's brows furrow in thought.

"But how does that bar bring him comfort? Why would he go there?" Yunho asks.

"He told me that he wanted to go drink." San sniffles, pulling away from Seonghwa slightly. "Back then, drinking brought him a lot of comfort. When he couldn't come to me about his feelings, he went to the one thing that seemed steady and consistent." San sighs. "But now. . . I have no idea where he'd go."

"Well, we can try to itemize and figure out what he took. Maybe that'll give us a clue if we search around the apartment." Seonghwa suggests, earning a noncommittal sound from San.

"Look," Yunho sighs, reaching to take San's phone, and San lets him. "He isn't going to message us back right now. We need to give him a little bit of time. If we sit here and wait, who knows how long we will actually be waiting. It could be hours, or it could be days-"

"DAYS?" San takes a step back, eyes wide with worry.

"Hey, hey-" Yunho rushes to soothe. "I'm just saying. That probably won't happen. He loves you a lot, and I can't imagine him not speaking to you for long."

"He's right. Wooyoung relies on you, even if it doesn't seem like it right now." Seonghwa says softly, watching as San visibly begins to relax.

Seonghwa's phone begins ringing, stirring everyone to slightly jolt at the loud ringtone. Seonghwa eyes both males apologetically. "It's Jongho."

Placing the call on speaker, Seonghwa tilts his phone flat in his hand, holding it between the three of them. "Hello?"

"Seonghwa, sorry to bother you. I was calling to update you on Yeosang. You're at San's apartment, right?"

"Yeah, I'm here with San and Yunho."

"Good. Yeosang is fine. A few bruises, if anything, but he's otherwise okay. He's shaken up and afraid to drive again, but he's completely okay."

"That's good to hear." Seonghwa smiles in relief, glancing at San and Yunho.

"I'll be taking him home here in a half hour. How's Wooyoung? Is he okay?"

"Yeah, about that-" Seonghwa sighs. "He's not here. We're looking for him, but please don't tell Yeosang right now. We don't want to worry him when he's got enough to sort out at the moment. Just get him home and keep him occupied. We'll update you when we learn anything."

"God. Okay. Do Mingi or Hongjoong know yet?"

"No. Not yet. I'll fill them in when I'm able, we're just trying to put our heads together right now."

"I see. But, yeah, please let me know what you learn. I'm worried about him."

"We all are. Keep Yeosang safe, Jongho."

"I will. Don't worry."

The call disconnects and Seonghwa places his phone into his pocket. "I'm glad he's fine."

"Yeah. Me too." Yunho agrees calmly, both males turning to look at San.

"I don't know what to do." San sighs, looking at Yunho. "Can I have my phone back? Please?"

"Yeah." Yunho hands his phone back over, watching as San taps the screen awake, eyes widening the moment he spots a notification.

"It's-" San blinks twice, words caught on the edge of his tongue. "It's him. He texted me."

"What'd he say?" Seonghwa peers over, trying to read the message himself.

Wooyoung ♡

I'm okay. I'm safe. I just need to be alone for a while. I'll come back soon. I love you more than you can imagine, San. (10:10 a.m.)

"I'm gonna find him," San mutters quietly. "I want him home, and-and I want him to know how sorry I am. I just want to hold him and know that he's safe-"

San continues to stare at his phone, hesitating on replying. "That's all that matters to me. I have to bring him home. I have to bring him back to me."

"Okay." Seonghwa smiles softly at him, reaching a hand over to rest on San's wrist. "Let's find him."

An hour ago (9:02 a.m.)

Wooyoung can't breathe. His phone was still silent, void of notifications and completely dark. Wooyoung had been sitting on the floor, crying into the sleeves of his hoodie, trying to keep himself as calm as possible while he waited for a phone call from anyone. But Yeosang wasn't here, San wasn't calling, and Yunho wasn't calling back.

The air is heavy, thick; rotating around him like a strong tornado. There's a storm circulating overhead, darkening the sky and swallowing his world whole, clouding his vision in a flood of tears that are simply inescapable. He can't hide from the storm, knowing fully well that there was no shelter to save him. He was standing in the middle of an open field, watching the approaching super cell prepare to engulf him. The rain is pouring down hard, lightning cracking overhead, thunder looming; Wooyoung finally feels himself go completely numb.

He wants to breathe. He wants to feel a shot of cold air sink into his lungs, he wants to feel something other than the apartment's familiar, toxic air sinking into his chest. He needs to leave the apartment, and he needs to leave now.

Without a reason to stop him, Wooyoung stands on his feet, grabbing his duffel bag and heading towards his closet. He packs countless shirts into it, heading to the dresser afterwards, packing shorts and joggers alike inside, not paying attention to what matched or what he exactly grabbed. He zips the bag shut, wiping lingering tears from his eyes, grabbing his wallet and phone and shoving them into his pockets before walking into the living space, scanning the immediate area for anything else he'd want. Headphones.

He heads for their junk drawer in the kitchen, grabbing his extra pair of wired earbuds and shoving them into his hoodie pocket, pacing towards the front door to lace on his shoes. In a matter of a minute, Wooyoung grabs his keys, exits the apartment, and locks his front door.

More tears sink down his cheeks as he walks through the apartment complex, exiting the building as cold, winter air sinks into his lungs. A weight, one that he didn't feel before, drifts off of his chest the moment the fresh air breathes into him, freeing whatever feelings had been trapped as he continues to breathe in the outside air.

He hesitates for a moment, stopping in his tracks just before the main doors, looking over his shoulder as he contemplates his decision. He knew what the outcome of this would be. He knew he may learn to regret it, but right now, all that mattered was getting away from the place that felt too toxic to breathe in. So, he walks on.

Snowflakes continue to rain down over him, gently landing in his hair and on his shoulders, dappling him in flecks of white. Wooyoung can see his own breath as he walks, unsure of his exact path as he meanders down the sidewalk. Traffic was nearly nonexistent on this side of town, likely due to the weather, but Wooyoung finds the morning quiet oddly calming.

His chest heaves as he continues to walk, doing his best to dry his tears as his skin grows cold, and it's only then that he thinks of pulling his hood up, covering his ears to shield them from the winter air.

A chill soothes down his spine, goosebumps rising on his skin as he continues his trek, walking aimlessly. He passes several other parked cars and quiet apartment buildings, not yet reaching the main drag. Once he does, a line of buses hold up the road nearby, loading on passengers for their morning commute. Out of curiosity, Wooyoung crosses the street once it's deemed safe to, walking towards the buses, reading the departure labels on the electronic screen on the front of the bus. One was headed to Suwon, another to Wonju, but the third bus caught Wooyoung's attention easily. It was headed to Icheon. Wooyoung didn't know anyone in Suwon or Wonju, but there was one place he knew he could go in Icheon. He had just hoped that he'd be welcome after all of the years spent apart.

So, he heads inside the nearby bus depot, rushing through the main doors as he heads to the counter. The worker behind the counter greets him warmly, accepting his payment and handing him a near-last minute ticket to Icheon, which would be departing in ten minutes. Wooyoung accepts the ticket gratefully, doing his best to weakly smile at the worker before he heads towards the main doors again.

He hands his ticket over to the driver, scanning it and heading towards his seat, settling in the back with a heavy sigh. He glances out of the window, watching the snow melt into the asphalt, cars passing by slowly as they carefully drive to their destination. Wooyoung feels a thick cloud of guilt sit over his shoulders, but he chooses to ignore it. Out of everything he was feeling right now, the last thing he wanted to deal with is the guilt of abandoning San and his friends, knowing fully well how they'd react.

He had to do this. Not only for himself, but for the benefit of anyone around him.

He needed a clear mind and a focused gaze, praying that some time away would provide him with any of the answers he was in search for. He didn't understand why he relapsed still, nor did he understand the circumstances regarding the loss of a job he cherished so much. He just wanted to think, free of poisoned air and overwhelming situations, finally able to process how his entire life fell apart within the span of a month.

A text from Jongho drags his attention away, and his heart immediately sinks.

Jongho to you + 6 others.

Yeosang was in a car accident twenty minutes ago. He hit black ice and spun out while on the way to see Wooyoung. I'm on the way to the hospital to see him, and I will let you know how he is as soon as I find out.

Wooyoung feels like he's going to throw up again. His best friend of over ten years had been in a car accident, and here he is, feeling so suddenly selfish because he knows he can't get off of the bus. Yeosang didn't deserve this. None of them did. Wooyoung feels like the worst person in the world, the worst friend and the worst boyfriend, succumbing to selfish wishes simply because he feels unstable.

He wants to respond or to say something, but he remains silent, turning his screen off, and gazing back out of the window. Wooyoung listens as the bus starts up, the engine humming loudly as the remaining passengers quietly settle on board for their trip. It was only an hour commute, but even still, Wooyoung didn't feel like that'd be nearly enough time.

He reaches into his pocket to grab his earbuds, plugging them into his phone before opening Spotify, hitting shuffle on the playlist he had made with San. His heart was aching, screaming for peace, listening as the first song began to play into his ears.

It's an upbeat song, one that Wooyoung normally enjoyed. But in this instance, Wooyoung can feel his once dry tears creep back over the threshold, and slowly sink down his reddened cheeks. He'd do anything to change what he had done. But there was no turning back. He knew he needed to heal and that he needed to do it alone.

As much as he wanted San and his friends right now, the only thing he could think about was finding some sort of peace to salvage his ever crumbling life.

Thirty minutes pass. Wooyoung is leaning against the window, listening to music, mind completely shut off. The snow continues to rain down, melting into the road and onto cars as they pass, the highway enveloping his view as he waits to enter the city of Icheon. Half of the commute was over, but Wooyoung didn't mind. The quiet was more than comforting, knowing fully well that he wouldn't be able to feel like this for long.

Surely enough, his phone begins to buzz after ignoring an abrupt phone call. He wants to ignore it, but he decides to look down at his screen anyway.

1 Missed call from Choi San ♡

Choi San ♡

Please call me. (10:02 a.m.)

Please. I'm worried about you. (10:02 a.m.)

Just tell me you're okay. (10:03 a.m.)

Wooyoung. Please. (10:03 a.m.)

The messages were quick, appearing on his lockscreen one after the other. He reads each message carefully, feeling his heart crack more and more with each word he reads.

Choi San ♡

You're scaring me, Wooyoung. Please. (10:03 a.m.)

I'm not mad. I never could be. I just want you home. (10:04 a.m.)

Wooyoung shuts his screen off, hand reaching up to cover his eyes. He bites down on his bottom lip, feeling the ache of tears pull at his throat as he swallows a painful urge to cry. He didn't deserve San. He really, truly felt like he didn't. San was an incredible friend, an amazing person, and an exceptionally loving boyfriend. Wooyoung knew San deserved better than all of this, and his heart hurts knowing how worried and sad his partner must be.

He lets himself cry, feeling wet tears drown his cheeks as he allows himself to fall apart. He loved San so helplessly, but he knew he was hurting him. He knew that San was most likely internalizing all of this and taking the blame. Wooyoung would go back. He'd go home and smother San in affection, begging for forgiveness and rebuilding everything he had so thoughtlessly broken, but only if San would let him. He was in a lot of pain emotionally, sitting on his bus seat alone and crying, listening to the melodies of BTS ring through his ears.

Five minutes pass before Wooyoung opens his phone, swiping to San's text messages. The only thing he could do is respond, in some hope and effort to soothe San's worry.

I'm okay. I'm safe. I just need to be alone for a while. I'll come back soon. I love you more than you can imagine, San. (10:10 a.m.)

It wouldn't ever be enough. Wooyoung knows that. But it was the only thing he could offer from a bus, nearly forty minutes away from home.

Icheon comes into view almost thirty minutes later. The bus comes to a stop at the depot and Wooyoung heads off, slinging his bag over his shoulder with music still playing into his ears. The tears had stopped, his mind once again numb, but his heart aching all the same. He knew where he was headed, but remained unsure about how the occupants would treat his arrival.

It wasn't a long walk, maybe ten minutes down a side street until he came across a small suburb of homes, away from complexes and department stores. The streets are busier here, for some odd reason, but Wooyoung doesn't mind. The sound of cars and talking pedestrians nearby is muted to silence as music continues to rattle his brain, drowning his sorrow effectively and without pressing issue.

He walks and he walks, eventually finding the familiar side street that he turns on to with a glaze of hesitance. His chest is tight, heart heavy, but his path doesn't falter. A familiar home, painted white with black-framed windows and a black front door comes into view, the grass lightly coated in a layer of fluffy snow. Holiday lights are strung up neatly on the fence out front, turned off and slightly frosted from the cold temperatures.

Pain resonates from the familiar porch and windows, eyes gazing over the decorations and overhanging trees. He takes a few steps forward, pulling his earbuds out and tucking them away back into his hoodie pocket, stepping onto the porch as it creaks beneath his feet.

He raises his hand, knocking on the door three times. He waits, standing there nervously, shifting the weight between his feet as he waits and waits, finally hearing shuffling erupt from inside. The door opens, and a familiar face stares right back at him, shocked and at a loss for words. Wooyoung knows how this must look or seem, and in an effort to smooth over the incoming conversation, he tries to weakly smile and decides to greet first.

"Hi, mom."