There is mentions of confrontation and yelling from parents, along with the happenings/aftermath of a subtle anxiety attack. Please do not read any further if these topics are sensitive to you.

⸻⸻ .·:*¨༺ ♛ ♡ ∞ ♡ ♛ ༻¨*:·. ⸻⸻

Two more days pass until San finally takes Wooyoung up on his offer to hang out. It's Sunday now, clouds overhung across the evening sky as the sun dawns closer to setting.

Wooyoung had spent the entirety of the day working on his shared math project with hardly any interest, struggling to stay focused on what could've been a two hour task, and unfortunately turned into an all day task. Seonghwa mentioned something about going to the store or something similar, leaving Wooyoung alone in the privacy of his dorm to sit at his desk with an oncoming migraine.

San had texted him about an hour ago asking him if his offer still stood, and Wooyoung had replied with a simple, but smart ass remark of: "obviously".

San offered to come over soon, but never said an exact time, leaving Wooyoung to stare annoyingly at his computer, eyes tired of looking at math equations and formulas. He had eaten maybe six hours ago, snacking on a warm-and-ready ramen bowl that Seonghwa had forgotten about on one of his shelves. Seonghwa didn't exactly give him permission to eat it, but the bowl had been sitting there untouched for about three weeks, so Wooyoung assumed it was okay to take it.

But as he leans into his desk chair, hand holding his head up to avoid what felt like inevitable exhaustion, he finds himself wanting to text San.

He really didn't know why he wanted to message San, but the idea that he was in the dorm next door doing god knows what instead of coming over, sort of drove him crazy.

He's never felt anything like this towards anyone, especially towards Seonghwa. He cared for his best friend a lot, more than he's really cared about anyone. San was different. San was special. Wooyoung didn't understand how to separate the two.

The sudden turn of the dorm's doorknob sends Wooyoung nearly flying out of his chair, quickly walking over to greet the face he'd been waiting to see nearly all day; but it was just Seonghwa.

"Oh!" Seonghwa slightly gasps, unaware that Wooyoung had been standing by the opened door. "Can you take these for me?"

Wooyoung reaches for the few grocery bags Seonghwa was holding out, taking a step backwards so his roommate could fully enter into the room. "What'd you get?"

"More of the usual stuff," Seonghwa sets down a couple more bags on the counter, letting the door close behind him without a glance. "Did you need something? I'm sorry if I didn't get it."

"No, no. Just curious, is all." Wooyoung sets his bags down now, eyeing the contents inside before taking a breath and looking back towards his friend.

"San wants to come over today, so, I don't know if you had plans, or-"

"I can go hang out with Joong." Seonghwa smiles. "I wouldn't want to ruin your date."

"It's not a date, Hwa." Wooyoung rolls his eyes, listening to Seonghwa chuckle lightly.

"I know, I'm just messing with you. Besides, now that Joong and I are kind of dating, I'd really rather go hang out with him instead of listening to you two fight over video games."

"I don't think I knew that he was your boyfriend."

"He's not. . . at least right now. We're just feeling it out. It's new for both of us, so we just didn't want to label anything yet."

"I don't think I understand." Wooyoung stands idly with a brow raised, subtle confusion ringing between his ears. Seonghwa blinks at him twice before sharing the same confused gaze back at his friend, but almost for an entirely different reason.

"What's not to get?"

"If you like someone, and they like you back, why hesitate in dating?"

"It's not as simple as that anymore, Woo." Seonghwa turns towards the counter, his hands sifting through one of the grocery bags.

"I kinda think it's that simple."

"You speak a lot about a topic you claim to know nothing about."

"I've hooked up with people, Hwa. I've never dated anyone fully, but I think I kinda know how being attracted to someone works."

"I don't know about that," Seonghwa starts to unpack certain items on the counter, eyes avoiding Wooyoung. "You seem pretty oblivious about San."

"I'm not oblivious. You're being ridiculous."

"I don't understand why you won't just admit it?"

"There's nothing to admit." Wooyoung sighs, also turning towards the counter. He can feel his voice slightly rising in tone as irritation simmers below the surface, so he takes a second and breathes, letting whatever trigger go before speaking again. "Maybe you're seeing something I'm not. I don't know."

"I'm not saying you should if you don't." Seonghwa crumbles a bag in his hands before tossing it into their black trash can.

"Well, I don't know what it feels like to love someone like that."

"You're not in love with him, at least I'd hope not." Seonghwa scoffs lightly. "I can tell you that you will know once you feel it. It kind of feels, I don't know. . . safe? It's like being warm and comfortable with someone that you like so much that it almost feels indescribable."

"Sounds intense."

"It can be. I felt overwhelmed the last time I felt love for someone like that."

"You're kind of making me not want to fall in love with anyone."

"You're not heartless, Wooyoung. As much as you'd like to think you are, you're pretty far from it. I don't think it's impossible for you to fall in love." Seonghwa pauses suddenly, turning towards his friend. "Unless you think you're aromantic, or something."

"I don't think so. I've just never given myself the chance. It all seems so scary and vulnerable. I just never thought that I'd want to love anyone."

"Do you think you'd ever want something more with San?"

The question seems hard to answer for a second. Wooyoung spends what feels like several minutes staring at the counter ahead of him, wondering if what Seonghwa said holds any truth. But he knows himself, he knows what he's capable of and his boundaries; a relationship simply feels impossible.

Thankfully, before Wooyoung can even dare to answer the question, a few knocks startle both boys out of their conversation to look back towards their door. Seonghwa barely hesitates in opening it, watching as San stands patiently on the other side.

"San," Seonghwa steps to the side and Wooyoung feels like he can't say anything, not with the conversation they had just had melting into his pores.

"Sorry. Bad time?" San's hands leave his pockets as he looks at Wooyoung expectantly, and Wooyoung almost doesn't speak.

"N-no. It's good, actually. Hwa just got home so we're just putting this stuff away. Come in, though. Please."

"Ah," San walks in once Seonghwa steps more off to the side, closing the door behind him and watching the tall male scale further into their dorm, taking in the decorations settled around their living space.

It was a fairly small, yet average sized dorm, beds on either side of the room at the very end with just enough space to cram desks at the end between the bedframe and exterior wall. There were two large paned windows at the end, blinds seemingly never touched as they hung half-open, allowing enough light to illuminate the desks and the edges of their unmade beds.

Seonghwa's side of the wall was decorated with fairy lights and pictures of inspirational artwork, a creative's aesthetic flirting with shades of pink and dusty oranges. Seonghwa's half of the dorm was relatively tidy, pillows sat up neatly with his comforter pulled back to expose his sheets as if he was laying there not too long beforehand.

Wooyoung's half, however, wasn't as tidy. There were horror movie posters stuck to the wall with a couple of pictures of himself at dance competitions from high school, a few medals hanging from one of his shelves above his desk almost serving as a reminder to keep his love alive for his own version of art. His comforter was black, only one pillow on the head of his mattress, sheets messy and comforter thrown to the side. Wooyoung admittedly never made his bed, it was just something he saw as pointless. The rest of his space was kind of clean, but not to the extent of Seonghwa's.

"You can sit wherever." Wooyoung throws over his shoulder, finally helping Seonghwa unpack their groceries that they spent ignoring for the last five minutes. San shyly walks over to Wooyoung's desk and sits down in his chair, eyes quickly spotting their unfinished project sitting ahead of them with skewed notes and meaningless scribbles.

"Give me that," Seonghwa mentions quietly, hand reaching for the carton of orange juice that Wooyoung held in his hands. "Go hang out with him. I'll be out in a minute."

"You don't have to leave." Wooyoung timidly replies, letting Seonghwa steal the juice from his hands.

"Woo, don't be nervous. You dance with the guy for like two hours a day and talk with him during class. Hanging out with him in our dorm isn't going to be that hard."

"I just don't want him to hate me." Wooyoung quietly admits, jaw tightening the more he feels Seonghwa's eyes stare at him.

"He obviously doesn't hate you if he's here. Just text me if you want me to come back, okay? I'm literally going to be next door."

"Right." Wooyoung tries to smile, watching Seonghwa turn and place the carton into the threshold of their small fridge.

Wooyoung stands by the counter, eyes still watching his roommate as he walks towards his bed, grabbing a few things before he heads for the door, giving his timid friend an encouraging smile before heading out and closing the door behind him.

"You seem burnt out." San mumbles after the door closes, eyes reading over Wooyoung's open notebook.

"The project is sucking the life out of me." He lazily walks over to San, not nearly as uncomfortable as he once was as he settles into San's presence within his dorm.

"We are partners for it," San looks back towards Wooyoung who was standing with his hands in his pockets. "Can I help with something?"

"I don't know. I have most of it figured out, it's just a matter of putting it all together to make it make sense."

"Well, do you want to take a break from it?"

"There's nothing more that I want than a break." Wooyoung can't help the misery attached to his tone as San scoffs at him, turning back around and beginning to close his notebook.

"Let's do that, then. Where's your playstation?"

"I hooked it up like two hours ago. It's under the desk."

"Do you want to play FIFA?"

"Yeah, actually. I'd like to kick your ass." Wooyoung grabs Seonghwa's desk chair, rolling it over next to his own. San scoots over a couple of inches, waiting for Wooyoung to manage his own set up, almost scared to mess anything up if he dared to touch any of it.

Wooyoung messes with a couple of buttons and turns some things on and off before it all starts working properly. It wasn't an ideal set up, but it was all he had. His wires were basically a fire hazard and his computer was not properly vented, but it all worked, and that was the only thing that mattered.

"Here," Wooyoung grabs for his controllers and hands one off to San, settling into Seonghwa's oddly comfortable desk chair and watching his monitor come to life as the title screen begins.

"How good are you at FIFA?" San looks over to Wooyoung, watching the male look right back at him and almost immediately glance away.

"Well considering I play almost everyday obsessively when I'm not stuck at the studio with you, I'd say good enough."

"I should have you know that I beat Joong at this all the time."

"But how good is he?" Wooyoung's head tilts back towards San as he sits and thinks for a moment, then turns his head back to the monitor.

"Not very good."

"Knew it." Wooyoung smiles as San starts to laugh, both males watching the screen while Wooyoung sets up a local versus match.

After choosing both of their teams, the pair spends nearly an hour playing against one another in a room that fills with laughter and friendly banter, leaving the stress Wooyoung held in his chest to suddenly vanish. Wooyoung was right, though, he was fairly good at the game, but San was too. Every match seemed even enough, leaving it down to a single point between either of them as they won matches back and forth accidentally.

San claims that Wooyoung's controller sucks every now and then, but Wooyoung is quick to remark that it might just be the one holding the controller that sucks instead.

Right as they're about to start another match, Wooyoung feels his phone begin to vibrate in his pant's pocket. He shares an apologetic look towards San, standing from his chair as he pulls his phone free from his pocket, quietly groaning at the sight of the caller ID.

San turns around in the chair and points to the door, almost silently asking if Wooyoung wants privacy, but Wooyoung shakes his head.

"Hello? Mom?"

"Ah, Wooyoung. How are you, my son?"

"Good, mom. How are you?"

"I'm good too. How is college? Everything going okay?"

"Just fine, mom." Wooyoung's tone was friendly enough in pitch, trying to sound upbeat and happy, but his expression told a completely different story. His eyes were unenthusiastic, brows slightly furrowing in irritation as he stood with an arm folded against his chest, gently grabbing onto his opposite arm that was holding the phone to his ear.

"How is, what was his name? Seonghwa? Your roommate?"

"He's well, mom. He's studying hard and taking care of me, don't worry."

"Oh good. I knew it would be good for you to have a friend there!"

"Yes, yes, mom. He's a great friend."

"But how about the medical classes? Have you looked into anything?"

"N-no." San hears the timid stutter in Wooyoung's voice as he turns around, concern glazed over his eyes. "I haven't had the chance to."

"Wooyoung. Please tell me you aren't putting it off."

"No, no, mom, I'm not. I have just been busy, that's all."

"Busy doing what?"

"Studying, coursework, taking care of myself."

"Tell me why I don't believe you?"

"I don't know, mom. I'm telling you the truth!" Wooyoung pleads, though he knows his mother could usually hear right through his lies. It wasn't completely inaccurate, he had just forgotten to mention the ungodly amount of hours he spent with his new friend in the dance studio, on top of ignoring studying all together and playing video games instead.

"You better not be wasting time dancing, Wooyoung."

"It's my hobby, mom. I can't ignore that part of myself completely."

"So you are dancing?!"

"Only a couple hours a week. Nothing too serious."

"Jung Wooyoung! You are there to be a medical professional! Your father and I did not pay for you to go to this expensive school just to goof off and perform like a stripper!"

"Okay, mom." Wooyoung's eyes grow red as tears build within his eyes, and he hates that San can see the fear and resentment building in his expression. His gaze was off towards the floor, mind shutting down as he listened to his mother continue to berate him over the phone, going on and on about what she wanted for him and what they paid for.

San points to the door again, almost standing from Wooyoung's chair as if he wanted to give him actual privacy now, but Wooyoung looks up immediately and silently pleads for him to stay. San looks back at him, worry resting in his gestures as he settles back down and waits, gaze falling towards the floor as he listens to the mumbling yells of Wooyoung's mother on the other line of the phone.

"I want to hear about the medical programs and what you've learned by the end of the week. Don't go off and dance again, Wooyoung. That is not what you're there for. Do you hear me?"

"I hear you." Wooyoung's voice is timid, defeat lulled over his eyes as he stands there motionless, eyes stuck on his bed now, waiting for the painful phone call to end.

"Good. Bye now, son."

Wooyoung says nothing, pulling the phone from his ear and hitting the large red circle at the bottom of the screen before tossing his device onto his bed. San says nothing, eyes now glancing upwards towards Wooyoung as he hides his face in his hands.

Wooyoung can't tell if he's embarrassed or pissed off, maybe both, but he hates that San just heard nearly every word of that.

"You okay?" San asks timidly, leaving Wooyoung to reveal his reddened eyes and irritated gaze, teeth finding the inside of his cheek as he decides on fuck no or I don't know.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that." What he actually meant was no, I'm not, please don't leave because my family is a fucking nightmare.

"Is she always like that?" Wooyoung sighs, hand reaching for Seonghwa's chair as he settles back down, averting San's worried gaze that he won't dare to even look back at.

"Partially. She's the nicer one of the two."

"So they don't want you to dance?"

"They never did to begin with. I had to convince them that it would look good on a college application." Wooyoung leans his head back into the chair, eyes staring at the grooves of the plaster ceiling. "They would never listen to me."

"My dad hates that I dance too." Wooyoung's eyes will to look towards his friend, but he remains adamant and continues to stare at the white ceiling.

"My parents just resent me. I'm not the wannabe doctor they wished they raised. I'm not like my older brother, at all. The far opposite, really."

"I didn't know you had a brother." San watches Wooyoung scoff.

"He's not worth mentioning."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"All you need to know is that he respected my parent's wishes for him and now he's a cardiovascular surgeon or some shit. I don't even know. I don't talk to the guy, let alone ever see him."

"So they want the same thing for you?"

"They want me to give up on everything I'm passionate about to pursue what they deem a successful career. Dancing is a waste of time to them."

"I saw your medals and stuff," San turns towards the computer monitor, glancing up at the shelf holding his dance medals and memories. "I've obviously seen you dance. You're a really good dancer, Wooyoung."

"Part of the reason why I wanted to ignore you for a bit was because I was jealous." Wooyoung wishes it wasn't true, but deep down, all the avoidance, all of the pushing; it was pure jealousy for something he seemingly could never have.

"Jealous?" San turns back towards Wooyoung, and Wooyoung finally tilts his head back down and looks at San.

"You're a dance major, chasing your dreams and doing what you want. I can't have that."

"You can." San persuades, but Wooyoung shakes his head.

"Sometimes it feels like I have a choice, especially when Seonghwa is chirping in my ear about chasing my dreams or some shit. But, then I realize that they're my parents and I still love them despite their anger and parenting style. I don't want them to hate me."

San isn't sure how to comfort Wooyoung, sitting idly in his chair as he just listens to his friend finally tear down a part of his solitary walls, leaving San the opportunity to finally get a peak of who Wooyoung really was.

"I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if I lost my parents."

"Wooyoung, your parents love you a lot. Regardless of how much they lead on that they're disappointed or whatever, you're still their son. Sure, they might be angry for some time, but the will to forgive is stronger than resentment."

"I hate that I know you're right." Wooyoung leans his head back again, letting a brief exhale roll through his lungs.

"You've probably heard it all before, haven't you?"

"Seonghwa hardly shuts up about it. He wants what's best for me, which is funny because my parents are supposed to want that."

"You don't have to answer me if you don't want to, but, is this pressure to be a doctor or whatever the reason you were having a hard time last semester?"

Wooyoung sits quietly for a second, listening to his mind scream about his boundaries. He looks at San again, jaw tight and chest filled with anxiety as he waits for the words to just come out, but nothing ever does. He finds himself unable to say what he wants, leaving him to only nod in response.

"I'm sorry you went through all of that alone for so long." San mentions lightly, but Wooyoung doesn't react. "I can always listen to you vent if you need me to."

"It's okay, San. They're my problems, not yours. I don't want you to worry."

"That's what friends do, though." Wooyoung's heart hurts. He doesn't know what is happening to him as he sits in the damn chair, eyes avoiding San's gaze as he feels himself wanting nothing more than San's arms around him.

He loathes touch from anyone other than Seonghwa (sometimes). He's never had the urge to ever want someone's body against his. He never wanted to feel someone's heartbeat or their breath on his lips, despite the random hookups he's suffered through due to drunken incoherence, he can hardly say he's ever enjoyed anyone touching him.

But with San; this was so different. Wooyoung can't even begin to understand the emotions peeling away at his exterior, screaming and pleading for someone to just fucking hold him, but he resists, like he always does.

"I know. But I'll be okay. I've been alone most of my life, San."

"I hear you." San sinks into his chair now, giving Wooyoung some visible space if he wanted it. "But please tell me if you ever just need to vent a little. I live next door, so it wouldn't be hard to come and listen."

San is so annoyingly persistent that it sort of drives Wooyoung crazy, so instead of insisting that he's okay time and time again, Wooyoung settles for a quiet okay in response.

They're silent for a moment, both males shifting awkwardly in their seats as words fail them. San wanted to say something of course, but he teeters on the edge of what to say and what not to say, afraid to ruin their friendship.

Wooyoung was still, eyes staring at his hands and then eventually towards his monitor, listening to the FIFA soundtrack as it became barely audible without anyone able to talk over it. He didn't want to involve San in his drama, but he can feel how the weight lifted from his shoulders the moment he spoke, even if it was just briefly.

San moves to look back towards the monitor too, eyes glancing at the controllers for a moment before leaving and glancing back at his expressionless friend. He had an idea, most likely a shitty one, but it was worth a shot to save his friend's mood.

"Do you want to go to the studio?"

Wooyoung's attention is suddenly lifted, eyes almost thankful that he broke the silence.

"We don't have to," San mumbles, afraid that his offer was out of place or inappropriate.

"Let's go." Wooyoung breathes, watching San's eyes glimmer happily.

"Yeah?" San starts to rise from the chair, and Wooyoung half-smiles back.

"Yeah. Please. I need to clear my head."

"Whatever you want." San promises and Wooyoung feels his heart jump. "Anything."

"I just think that you need to extend your arm a bit further," Wooyoung says, watching San move in the mirror as he practices his custom choreography for his dance class.

"Should I move my hips forwards or outwards?" San asks, moving his legs back together as he prepares to show the move again, but Wooyoung can't seem to make up his mind.

"Show me both."

They had been dancing for two hours, music paused and eyes focused on their reflections within the ceiling-high mirrors, contemplating the direction of San's hips and flow of his hands.

San does like Wooyoung asked, spreading his legs again while shifting his hips outwards, arm outstretched with his head slightly tilted. Wooyoung seemed unimpressed.

Based on Wooyoung's reaction, San then decides to do the opposite, hips rolling forwards with his hand outstretched, hoping to observe a better reaction.

"Outwards looks a bit. . . odd. I think forwards is better." Wooyoung tilts his head to the side, brows furrowed as he continues to think through the movements of the dance, making sure that it flowed perfectly.

"Okay. I'll run it one more time just to be sure." San refocuses, marking a few movements before the segment in question, leaving Wooyoung to watch him curiously.

He isn't completely sure why he has so much interest in helping San with a class project he didn't even take place in to begin with, but something about the taller, older male made his mind fuzzy. The lines of his boundaries blurred ever-so-slightly, causing San to slip between the cracks and quietly settle into his heart.

San does the dance again, nearly perfectly, rolling his hips forwards like he said he would and Wooyoung can't help but stare.

"I agree, actually." San mentions, turning to face Wooyoung after his move ends. "Forwards is better."

Wooyoung's eyes struggle to pull away from San's hips as he takes an uneasy step backwards, swallowing his pride and blinking back to life, heart devotedly stricken with some sort of emotion he could barely understand. "Yup."

"I'm kinda beat, though. Are you ready to head back?"

"Yeah, yeah." Wooyoung nods, a hand reaching through his partially sweaty hair as he slowly starts walking towards the familiar computer desk, turning off the speakers and the music program. San watches for a moment then walks towards the main door, grabbing his string bag and Wooyoung's backpack, holding it patiently.

Wooyoung turns around, almost surprised that San was holding his bag, but he says next to nothing as his hand reaches towards it. San lets go of the bag once Wooyoung takes a hold of it, slinging one of the straps over his left shoulder, motioning towards the door as San opens it and begins to exit.

Wooyoung's mind was devoid of anything at the moment, wanting nothing more than to lay in his bed and drift off to what felt like a painless slumber, but the moment he shuts the lights off to the studio and closes the door behind him, he could feel a pit settling into his stomach.

"Ready?" San asks and Wooyoung can only bear to nod.

They exit the building fully, shoes greeting darkening pavement as the moon begins to roar towards its apex. Wooyoung only then realizes that Seonghwa hasn't texted him to ask about dinner plans or even to bug him about what he considered a date with San, but he ignores every urge to check his phone until he has to. He wasn't avoiding Seonghwa by any means, but he was avoiding the threats that may lay waiting in his text messages from his father, driving him to a familiar place of anxiety and indignation.

"Feel any better?" San's tone breaks the silence that occupies Wooyoung's brain, watching his friend's gaze avoid him purposely.

"I think so." Wooyoung's voice is trailed into a soft hum, but San can't help but feel like he was hiding something.

"We don't have to talk about it," San mentions, turning his focus back to the sidewalk ahead of him. "But if you want to, we can."

"There just isn't much to talk about, San'ah."

"San'ah?" San's lips curl into a smile.

"Sorry. It just slipped," Wooyoung shies, tone diminishing the longer he talks.

"It's okay. You can call me that."

"I'm so used to calling Seonghwa 'Hwa' or 'hyung' that I tend to forget to not call others by some random nickname that comes to mind."

"You can call me whatever you want." San smiles again, but Wooyoung doesn't turn to look at him. San's eyes squint slightly, confused as to why the male was avoiding him.

"Uhm," Wooyoung's hands find one another as he plays with the silver ring on the pointer finger of his left hand. "You can, uhm. Call me Woo, if you want to."

"Is that what everyone calls you?"

"Just Seonghwa." Wooyoung smiles slightly, gaze finally rising towards the view in front of him, almost feeling his heart yearning for this walk back to the dorm to take longer, just as an excuse to talk to San longer.

"Oh, so I get special privileges now?" San laughs very slightly, a smile tuned to his voice as he gently bumps Wooyoung's left shoulder with his own.

"We're friends, dick head. You just kinda get to do certain things no one else can."

"I see." San sighs. "Thank you for trusting me enough and hanging out today. I've had fun."

"You're just saying that. The moment my mom called, she practically ruined everything, like she always does."

"It's nice getting to see you be happy, is all. I don't think I've seen you laugh nearly as much as you did when you kicked my ass in FIFA."

"Oh, so you're admitting that I kicked your ass?"

"Yes, Woo." The nickname rolls from San's tongue lovingly, and Wooyoung can't help but regret telling his friend to call him that. There was something more attached to the name, something intimate, but Wooyoung doesn't really understand the feeling boiling beneath the hem of his shirt as he listens to San's voice rumble next to him.

"I'm going to use that against you forever."

"And now you're saying we're gonna be friends forever?" San's voice is very excited, tuned with a gentle laugh at the end as he looks at Wooyoung, nearly baffled and incredibly pleased.

"Oh my god, you're so annoying."

"I, Choi San, have finally befriended Jung Wooyoong forever."

"Shut up, would you?" Wooyoung rolls his eyes, listening to the older male laugh beside him before settling into a comfortable silence.

Wooyoung isn't completely sure what draws him to San like a moth to a flame, but he can feel the Earth spinning on its axis, almost pulling them together seamlessly.

They walk back to the dorm, talking about random topics that seem to have no end as they reach the top of the dreadful staircase. San opens the door for Wooyoung, letting him walk into the hallway first before following right behind him. They walk six doors down, stopping at the seventh door, leaving Wooyoung to reach for the familiar door knob and hesitate, feeling San's eyes on him. If the urge to give him a hug was strong before, this time it felt nearly impossible to ignore.

"Can I walk with you tomorrow morning?" San asks, voice barely audible as they linger in front of Wooyoung's shared dorm.

"Are we getting breakfast again?" Wooyoung turns towards him, holding his keys lightly in his palm.

"If you want to."

"Okay. See you at eight, then." Wooyoung gives him a small smile as he watches San turn around and head towards the neighboring door. His eyes trail back towards his door knob, struggling to keep words tangled beneath the surface of complicated emotions. All he wanted to do was hug him, but his boundaries cried for the opposite. Space. Keep your distance.

His heart aches, yet he truly doesn't understand why. But, maybe a hug wouldn't be so bad?

He enters his room quickly after that, closing his door and throwing his bag back to its familiar place on the floor next to his shoes. As he walks further into the threshold of his shared dorm, he only then realizes that Seonghwa is still not home.

A hesitant breath rolls through his chest as he pulls his phone from his pocket, eyeing three separate text messages.

Seonghwa-Hyung

Went to see a movie with Joong. Will be home soon.

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, almost gagging at the fact that his roommate actually had a boyfriend. . . or whatever the hell Hongjoong was.

But, the next text message isn't exactly what he wanted to see.

Dad

Call me immediately.

Then, almost forty minutes later, another message from the person he was trying to avoid.

Don't ignore me Wooyoung.

Wooyoung's heart can't fall any lower as it sinks into the floor, breath catching in his lungs as he stares at a message sent from his persistent father nearly two hours ago. He couldn't lie about where he was or what he was doing, he knew he'd have to be honest.

Lying would never get him anywhere, especially with his father. If his mother could smell his bullshit from across the city, his father was much, much worse. But, he takes a risk anyway.

He calls his father hesitantly, fully knowing that the conversation that was about to be had wouldn't exactly end well, but ignoring his father would probably send him to an early grave.

"Hello?"

"It's me, dad. It's Wooyoung."

"Where the hell have you been?"

"Busy, sorry. I didn't have my phone on me."

"I don't want to hear your excuses. Tell me why you think it's appropriate to talk to your mother the way you did?"

"I don't. It's not. I'm sorry."

"Then why would you lie to her and try to convince her that dancing is worth your time when you know it isn't!?"

"Dad-" Wooyoung knows what's coming. He can feel it in his bones.

"We told you to give up dancing when you graduated. We let you indulge in high school for the sake of your application so you could get into medical school."

"Dad, please-"

"Dancing isn't a career! You need to be successful to live a healthy, happy life."

"Can I talk?" Wooyoung's stern tone catches them both off guard, a stinging silence raking through the phone call on both ends as Wooyoung just tries to breathe.

"Go ahead."

"I told mom that I'd look at medical fields tomorrow. I was too busy today, that was all. I like to dance in my freetime, nothing more than that."

"Is that where you were two hours ago? Dancing?"

"That's not important."

"It was, wasn't it?"

"Dad-"

"You better stop wasting your time dancing. We do not pay for you to go to that school to goof off and dance. You are there to learn and to perfect your career! Dancing will do nothing for you!"

"Okay, dad." Wooyoung had barely any fight left within him now. The conversation was beyond draining, given this is probably the eighth time he's heard the same few lines over and over again. He chooses to let go, pulling the phone away from his ear just barely, listening to the suddenly quiet voice berate the air next to him.

His eyes stare off into nothingness, tears spilling over his lashes as they sink down his face and curl under his jaw.

"Wooyoung?! Jung Wooyoung!"

"Yes dad?" His voice is shaky, listening to the next words very carefully.

"Get your shit together before I pull funding from your courses."

The line suddenly breaks and the call ends. Wooyoung can't breathe.

He tosses his phone at his bed and wants to scream obscenities at the wall, blind with rage and anger equally. His teeth grab onto his bottom lip, feeling the tears fall quicker down his cheeks, salty streaks staining his reddened skin. He can't take it. It was all too much.

The pressure of failing and disappointing your parents was overwhelming, but the desire and pull towards your dream fought back even harder, creating an internal battle that would rage for months, if not years.

His knees buckle beneath him, connecting to the floor that held him on his two feet, a sudden whine and rapid inhale echoing in the room. This cry was painful. It wasn't his usual meltdowns that had occurred after talking to his parents; this one fucking hurt.

"Wooyoung?" A familiar voice echoes against his closed door, turning his pitiful attention towards it. "Are you okay?" San?

Wooyoung can't get himself to speak. He sits there on the floor, eyes leaking tears as he breathes with hitched breaths catching in his lungs. He doesn't know what to do. He can't let San see him like this.

"Woo?" God dammit. "Please."

"It's unlocked." Wooyoung finally mutters, listening as San opens the door and timidly steps inside. Wooyoung avoids his gaze, hands reaching up to wipe the tears from his cheeks, pretending not to notice the new ones falling from his eyes every couple of seconds.

"I heard you through the wall," San steps closer, almost afraid of triggering his friend's boundaries. "Was he yelling at you?"

"It's what he always does after my mom calls." Wooyoung sniffles, wiping more tears from his cheeks, not a care in the world to get himself to stop crying.

"I was worried." San kneels down, knees touching the cold wooden floor.

"It's not your mess, San." Wooyoung leans backwards to sit on his ass, legs curling to criss-cross themselves. His hands find his lap, twirling the ring around his finger once more as he listens to San breathe.

"But you're my friend and you're upset. I just wanna help you."

"I know." Wooyoung feels so incredibly guilty right now, heart bleeding out of his chest as he longs for something. He doesn't know exactly what he wants, nor if he even wants it from San, but all he does know is that he is finding it harder to ignore the longer San tries to comfort him.

"Do you want to tell me what he said?"

"No." Wooyoung breathes a calming breath. "But I-"

San stays quiet, trying to remain patient for Wooyoung to finish his own sentence, but San finds himself reaching his hand over, resting his touch on his knee. Wooyoung flinches slightly, but doesn't make a move to remove the flash of warmth.

"Can I hug you?"