There is mentions of panic/anxiety in this chapter. Please avoid reading any further if these topics are sensitive to you.

⸻⸻ .·:*¨༺ ♛ ♡ ∞ ♡ ♛ ༻¨*:·. ⸻⸻

"Wooyoung-"

Wooyoung immediately stands from his chair, hand threading through his hair as the conversation dangerously tilts on awkward feelings that he never meant to spill to begin with. After lying for days on end, he found it hard to live with himself knowing that San deserved better than that. San deserved better than him. Wooyoung never wanted this friendship to begin with, let alone the longing crush that lingered inside of himself dormantly, threatening him with nightmares and restless nights.

San doesn't say anything more, mouth agape and brows furrowed, watching Wooyoung pace up and down his dorm like an anxious dog. This is not how Wooyoung wanted to tell San. This was not it at all.

"I'm sorry." Wooyoung blurts out after a second, standing in the middle of the room between his own bed and Seonghwa's. His hands find his face, covering his reddened cheeks and bleak expression, praying for forgiveness and the sudden will to forget everything he just said.

"You don't have to be sorry-"

"No." Wooyoung's hands drag down his face, eyes hopeless and stuck staring at his feet. "I am sorry. I said that without thinking and-and I really didn't mean that."

San knows better. Wooyoung had said something earlier and claimed that he didn't mean it, even when he subconsciously did mean it. San wasn't sure if this could fall under the same scope, let alone deal with how the sudden confession made him feel. "It's okay if you meant it, Woo."

"I didn't. So, let's just let it go, alright?" Wooyoung looks up, eyes red and face flushed with embarrassment. "I'm sorry San. I'm selfish and I'm an idiot."

"Hey," San wants to reach out to him, but the memory of being pushed away earlier keeps his hands at bay. "I don't want you to think that you can't tell me anything."

"No, I know that." Wooyoung breathes, eyes blinking down towards the floor again. "I just can't say shit like that."

"It's okay. I mean it." San watches Wooyoung look up, suddenly a glimmer of hope shining within his eyes, but he looks away almost immediately afterwards, focus drifting away.

"I'm sorry I lied to you about being sick."

"Please stop apologizing, Wooyoung." San watches Wooyoung finally settle back down into his desk chair, head craned back, eyes closed with a long breath exhaled through his nostrils.

"Okay, San'ah," is all Wooyoung can mutter before his body de-tenses, trying his best to decompress. San sits and watches him for a long minute, heart confused and mind even worse for the matter, silently asking himself why Wooyoung never cared to ask about his own feelings.

It wasn't that San felt nothing, he just wasn't sure exactly what he felt. He couldn't answer right now even if he tried to. The last thing he would ever want is to reject Wooyoung outright, especially when he wasn't sure if he ever could.

"Do you want me to leave?"

Wooyoung is quiet for a few, long and dreadful seconds, leaving San anxiously waiting on the edge of the younger's bed.

"Wooyoung, please-"

"No. San. I don't want you to leave." Wooyoung's eyes blink open, staring at the blank computer monitor ahead of him.

"You just don't seem like yourself right now." San says softly, watching Wooyoung turn to look at him, eyes sad and still slightly red.

"If you want to leave, you can. I just-" Wooyoung's jaw tightens. "I'm stressed. I'm really tired and everything feels like a chore. I feel like I've had no time to just sit and think, and now that all I've done is fucking think because I've been laying in bed for two days, I'm a bit lost for words."

"You can't hold all of that stuff in, Woo. You've gotta talk to someone sometimes."

"Talking to anyone hardly solved my problems," Wooyoung admits coldly, watching San's shoulders tense. He didn't mean for the comment to sound so guarded, but it was hardly a lie given his own experience. "I just figure it out on my own."

"You know you can come to me with anything, right?"

"I know that." Wooyoung assures, but San doesn't trust that he's being truthful.

"I know you don't want me worrying about you, Young'ah, but I really care about you and-"

Wooyoung's phone suddenly interrupts, ringing with a familiar tone that San heard just a few days prior.

"Sorry, San'ah. It's my mom." Wooyoung's eyes are slightly wider than before, teeth grabbing onto his bottom lip as he pulls his phone from his pocket, staring at the caller ID with pure anxiety consuming his expression.

"No, no, it's okay. I'll get the pamphlets." Wooyoung smiles at him gratefully, eyes drifting back towards his phone as he answers the call, bringing the phone to his ear with his eyes anxiously shut.

He was scared of the onslaught of words he was prepared to hear, afraid that the day he and San spent collecting information wouldn't be enough to please his uptight parents. But, this would be the moment of truth. It had to be enough, it just had to be.

"Hello?"

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

"I'm good, mom. How are you?"

"Just got home from work. I'm a bit tired, but I'm alright. How's school?"

"Usual stuff. I presented a project in my math lecture today," Wooyoung hears his mom hum in surprise, almost as if she was happy to hear that. "I'm pretty sure my friend and I got a good mark."

"Friend? Did you present with Seonghwa?"

"No, mom. It's a new friend."

"Ah! What's his name?"

"Choi San." Wooyoung slightly smiles when he hears his mom hum in approval, eyes opening to spot San watching him contently, papers in hand, prepared to hand over whatever material necessary in an instant. Wooyoung shoots him a smile also, thankful that he was here through all of this, regardless of the bundle of feelings trapped in his chest.

"You'll have to introduce him to me sometime. I'm sure he's lovely."

"He's really nice, mom. You'd like him."

"Look at you! Making friends and being outgoing in college. That makes me happy to hear, Wooyoung."

"I try my best to be as social as I can be."

"Mhm, I understand. It can be hard sometimes." Wooyoung slightly rolls his eyes at that, annoyed that she understood that of all things and not wanting her own son to chase his dreams. "How about the research you did? Did you pick a major yet?"

"Ah!" Wooyoung's hand reaches out towards the papers, picking out a random note with details about the campus itself. "Well, I visited the medical campus. It's really nice and it's huge."

Wooyoung hears his mom laugh happily, as he was hoping, purposely putting emphasis on certain words to make it seem more believable that he was interested. "The staff there is really polite, too. I asked a bunch of questions and learned a lot. There's a bunch of programs, so it would be kind of hard to choose just one."

"What kind of programs did you look at?"

Wooyoung grabs for more papers, looking over different branches of the medical program until a few stand out. "X-ray technician, ICU nurse, and-"

"Your brother is a really great surgeon, you know. Shoot for the stars, Wooyoung! You can get anything you try hard enough for."

The sentence is painful to listen to the moment his mother speaks. Wooyoung's jaw tightens as his fist clenches, papers slightly wrinkling in his grasp. "Of course, mom. I know."

All he wanted was for his mom to understand how much he didn't want this. He wanted things that his heart yearned for, dancing on a stage or being a performer, something to look forward to everyday rather than a boring nine to five that made him depressed. He hardly ever chases after anything he wants, let alone longing feelings towards certain people, but this felt worse suddenly. He just wanted to make his parents proud after years of feeling like a disappointment in comparison to his older brother.

"When do you think you'll pick? Or have you decided already?"

"I don't know yet. I have a couple of weeks left, I'd like to look into everything a bit more since it's a life commitment."

"See, now you've got your head on straight. Dancing isn't worth it, my son. I'm glad you're on the right path to having a successful life. Please let me know if you find anything interesting!"

"I will, mom." Wooyoung's voice is obnoxiously fake, soaked in dissipating happiness and pride, but his mother doesn't seem to notice.

"Talk to you soon. Love you."

Wooyoung feels like he has a hand wrapped around his throat and a gun pointed to his head as the next words tumble from his lips. "Love you, too."

It wasn't that he hated his parents, but his entire childhood up to this point was incredibly difficult. Every step he took landed him in their bad graces, leaving his older brother to take charge and lead the family name to great success. Wooyoung wanted no part of it, devoting himself to the one thing that seemed stable enough.

Dance got him through everything. If he was stressed, angry or depressed, all he wanted to do was dance. Suddenly the thoughts and feelings associated with said mood would dissipate into nothing. He vowed to never lose this part of himself, but all his parents wanted to do was to rip him away.

The moment the phone call ends, Wooyoung's expression drops, head tilting downwards and papers falling from his hand. San stands from the bed, unsure of how to comfort his friend at first, but the longer he listens to Wooyoung's hitched breaths, the harder it becomes to resist.

Wooyoung then feels San's arms wrap around him in a warm, loving hug, and all Wooyoung can do is sit there and cry. He wanted to hug him back, hands barely reaching up to rest on the base of San's lower back, clinging onto almost nothing, afraid to give into feelings he so selfishly admitted to.

San doesn't notice, hands rubbing up and down on Wooyoung's back, close to the line of his spine. Wooyoung's head tilts further into San's shoulder, hands afraid to pull the elder any closer, clinging onto the edge of San's shirt just barely.

He hated this. He wants nothing more than to melt into San's warm embrace, but this hug felt anything but comforting. His stomach was in knots, undecidedly clinging to his friend while his heart burned to pieces. He pushed his friend away once, guilt ripping apart his stomach the moment he pushed him away from a hug just earlier in the day. Wooyoung couldn't do it twice, especially twice in a day, but everything about this contact between them was far from consoling.

"Are you okay?" San mutters, hands still gently running in smooth lines down the younger's back.

Wooyoung wants to say no, but he can't bring himself to. He just shakes his head, fingers gripping onto San's shirt tighter, eyes closing and teeth finding the edge of his bottom lip. This felt like the pit of hell. It surely couldn't get any worse than this.

"I'm sorry she doesn't understand you, Woo." San tries to comfort, voice low and even. It was all Wooyoung would want to hear any other day of the week, but right now? Wooyoung wanted pure and undisturbed silence. "I'm sorry she doesn't see you the way I do."

Wooyoung wants to pry and be selfish again, he wants to know how San sees him. Maybe, just maybe, San sees him the way Wooyoung had started to see San.

"You don't deserve any of this, I hope you know that. You deserve to do what you want and to make your life your own. I wish they didn't have such a hold on you, Wooyoung. I'd do anything to lighten their grip."

Stop. Wooyoung's breath hitches, hands breaking free of their hold on San's shirt as they slowly drift back to his sides. Stop talking to me like this.

"You deserve to live a happy, fulfilling life, free of the hold of your parents. I just hope one day you realize that."

"San'ah?" Wooyoung leans away in a threat of panic, eyes full of tears, cheeks stained and red. San looks at him in a mixture of surprise and empathy, scanning the younger's face for a sign of something as he waits for him to speak. "Can we go to the studio tomorrow?"

San's lips pull into a smile, head tilting down as a relieving breath soars through his lungs. "Sure, Woo. Anything."

Wooyoung's heart seizes. Don't say it. "Whatever you want, Young'ah. Do you want me to go get Hwa?"

"Please." Wooyoung asks, watching San nod comfortingly.

"Okay. I'll see you in the morning, then." San's hand graces over Wooyoung's shoulder, and he can't help but notice the slight jolt to the younger's body the moment his fingers trace over his skin.

"Thank you, San'ah. You're too good for me."

"No I'm not. Please call me if you need me." San watches Wooyoung nod, turning away and walking towards the front door, hesitating once he reaches for the door knob. He wants to turn around, he wants to say more, but he feels an awkward tension settled in the space created between them. He isn't sure if the tension is literal or forced, but it's present nonetheless, wrapping its arms around San's shoulders as it hurries him out the door without another threat of a word.

The moment the door clicks shut, Wooyoung leans back into his bed, ass greeting his comforter-covered mattress, life being sucked out of him the moment his mind prepares for another conversation.

He fully expected Seonghwa to pity him or berate him for his unhinged behavior and emotions, but the moment the door clicks open and feet quietly walk towards him, his eyes blink shut and his body slouches.

"Wooyoung-" Seonghwa approaches, setting down his books on his desk before turning to his friend, expression laid unreadable in the dimly-lit room. "Are you okay?"

"Hwa-" Wooyoung's voice breaks again. He doesn't want to cry anymore, but Seonghwa felt like his last stake of hope, stuck in a loop of pleas for help. He was so confused, mind in the gutter with his heart ripped from his chest. He wishes for anything but this, longing for the familiar feeling of peace that vanished long before he met San.

"Come here." Seonghwa immediately wraps Wooyoung in a suffocating hug, one that Wooyoung fully commits to, hands grasping the back of Seonghwa's sweater in handfuls, tears meeting the elder's shoulder in pools.

"I can't take this anymore, Hwa." Wooyoung breathes, trying his best to catch his breath. "There's too much pressure and too much stress-"

"Hey, it's okay. Let it go." Seonghwa holds the younger tighter, wishing to take all of his pain away. "I'm sorry I'm hard on you, Wooyoung. You know I'm always looking out for what's best for you, right?"

"I know." Wooyoung sniffles, breaths finally slowing after a few seconds of hitching, tears muffled against Seonghwa's sweater.

"Do you wanna tell me what happened?"

"I accidentally said it, Hwa." Wooyoung slowly pulls away from the hug, hand reaching up to dry the remnants of his tears. "I fucking told him that I liked him."

"What did he say? Did he say something bad?"

"No, he didn't-" Wooyoung's eyebrows furrow. "That's the worst part. He didn't say anything."

"He mentioned that your mom called. How did that go?"

"She was okay. I'm just sick of lying." Wooyoung drags, eyes finding his hands cradled in his own lap.

"You're still undecided about your major?"

"Incredibly." Wooyoung sighs. "I want to dance so, so, badly. I just wish I could let go of my fear of being ignored and made to be a disappointment. I-I know that's a serious thing to worry about and they would probably not do that, but it's this irrational fear that's practically engraved into my brain."

"It's a very real fear, Woo. I get it."

"So what do I do?" Wooyoung's eyes plead for help, watching as Seonghwa looks at him affectionately, gaze coated in something familiar.

"I've been telling you a lot of things. I've told you to ignore everything but I've also told you to stop avoiding your feelings. I'm sure it was confusing the last few days, but please listen to me when I say this, Woo-" Seonghwa watches Wooyoung's eyes search into his own, waiting for an answer to comfort his soul. "Please listen to your heart. You need to come first. Not dance. Not school. Not your parents, and not even San. You."

"But with everything going on, it all feels so confusing. How do I listen to my heart when everything it begs for rushes me at the same time?"

"You don't, Woo. The minute you start listening and start following it, all of the aching thoughts will stop harassing you all at once and instead come one at a time."

"What if it breaks my heart?" Wooyoung's gaze drops, one last tear escaping the threshold of his lashes, tilting down his cheek and under the curve of his jaw.

"Then I'll be here to pick up the pieces." Seonghwa assures, hand reaching for Wooyoung's arm, placing a hand there lovingly. "You are never alone. I am always here for you. I know you might not want to talk to San, but he's worried about you, too. He would come in a heartbeat if you asked him to."

"I know." Wooyoung isn't lying. He knows all of that. But somewhere deep inside of him, he finds a greater truth, something he's internally begging for but refused to acknowledge. He really liked San. He really, really did. But all of these feelings became harder to bear and felt more like a burden. It was starting to become something he resented, no longer wishing to feel so he could just live without worry.

Wooyoung fears that type of loneliness again, afraid to isolate himself and turn back to old, horrible habits. San pulled him free of the gutter, taking off what felt like chains holding him down to a version of himself he no longer knew. He liked who he was around San, but with everything crashing down all at once, all he wanted was to be alone.

"Do you want me to go get us dinner?"

"I'd like to come with you, actually." Wooyoung offers, watching Seonghwa's eyes light up slightly.

"Sure. Let me get my keys and we'll go, okay?"

"Yeah," Wooyoung smiles and nods, gaze dropping the moment Seonghwa leaves. He felt ruined, truly succumbing to the actions of his own mind and heart, barely resembling the shell of his old self. He was used to being lonely, and he was fine that way. He never begged for attention and he hardly ever wanted someone else's hands on him the way he wanted San to touch him.

Something inside of him was tearing apart, two sides of a coin, now suddenly black and white; everything was incredibly dizzying. He was growing into a new person, one who loved company and liked to laugh. One who liked to hold San's hand and dance with him in the studio.

He knew his past self would gag at the growing interest in wanting friends and a relationship, but his heart begged for more. It was a silent plea he could hardly ignore any longer.

"Ready?" Seonghwa asks, standing by the door with his keys and phone in his hand.

"Yeah." Wooyoung forcibly smiles, rising from the bed and walking towards his friend.

He would do anything to escape his mind, even if it was just a twenty minute walk down the street to get the same shitty fried chicken they had eaten time and time again.

Wooyoung and Seonghwa ate happily when they returned, finally putting a pause on Wooyoung's threatening emotions for two hours, leading to the usual nighttime routine that both males ran through on time. Seonghwa took his time doing his skincare, watching Project Runway all the same while he complained about a certain contestant on the show.

Wooyoung tried to participate, making vague comments back towards Seonghwa as he watched his show, eyes staring at his phone from time to time, almost waiting for some sort of a text message.

But he loses hope, draining his thoughts into Seonghwa's show until his roommate inevitably falls asleep with a blanket tucked against his chest. Wooyoung stares at the ceiling for what feels like hours, waiting for sleep to pull him over the edge. But he lays there, uninterested and completely deprived of peace, caught off guard by the silence that overwhelmed the dorm.

By the time he reaches the impasse of sleep, Wooyoung's body drifts into a state of unconscious longing. But, he doesn't see the dream again. Instead, he hears San's voice; over, and over, and over. Coos of sweet promises, things Wooyoung wishes he could listen to all the time, but words he'd have to soon forget.

Before he can linger in his state of darkness and lust, Wooyoung's alarm shoots him awake, eyes opening tiredly, bloodshot and exhausted. His mind was tired. He could feel his body begging for more rest, but the last thing he wants to do is to hear San's voice in his ears and feel his breath hot against his throat.

The morning goes by particularly slowly, leaving Wooyoung little room to breathe comfortably. San walks him to class like usual, talking and laughing as if the previous night never happened. He barely wastes any time in leading the younger to the cafeteria, buying him breakfast like normal, walking side by side towards the familiar lecture hall with a smile glued to his lips.

It was terrifying and comfortable all at once. The fear of stopping to interject between San's suddenly happy mood, crying into cradling arms about something he should've never said let alone never felt. But he doesn't. He resists, playing along, eating happily and sitting next to the elder wordlessly, smiling at certain words he says and offering a small giggle in retaliation to jokes that tumble from San's lips.

Wooyoung's hands fidget with the pencil settled on the desk before him the entire duration of the lecture, and dormantly in the back of his mind lies the want to hold San's hand. Somehow, the comforting grasp of San's hand made the trembling stop, avoiding all anxious tendencies the moment their fingers interlaced. But San does nothing, eyes glued to the professor almost the whole time. Wooyoung is barely able to remain focused, accidentally breaking the lead of his pencil more than once due to his anxious fidgeting.

But, the class soon ends, leaving the males to trek the familiar path towards the studio, almost a bit earlier than normal. San insists on blocking out their normal two hours, but something deeply settled inside of Wooyoung presses for an extra hour, hopeful to dance away the lingering memories coming to the forefront.

San agrees, and shortly after, both of them are hunched near the computer, picking out a few songs to queue one after the other. They're familiar songs, ones that they both knew relatively well, but Wooyoung puts everything into the choreography. He was tired, sure, but he would give anything to stop feeling anything and everything.

Through various tones of Seventeen, BTS and Monsta X, both males find themselves winded from long dances and core-focused routines. Wooyoung was a tad out of shape, lungs screaming for air as he leaned against the wall, hand reaching to wipe strands of his own hair out of his eyes. San was sitting at the computer desk, breaths heavily escaping through his own lips as he sat, scrolling through different song suggestions that appeared on screen.

"How does Sugar Rush Ride sound?" San asks through a winded breath, eyes scanning across the studio floor until they meet Wooyoung's tired gaze, waiting for an answer.

"Good. Great." Wooyoung nods, leaning away from the wall to stand in the center of the room. Wooyoung knew the routine well enough, but what he didn't take into consideration was the lyrics of the upbeat song.

"Let's go!" San rushes to the center, eager and suddenly full of energy, a few feet behind and to the right of Wooyoung, adjusting the usual black cap on his head before listening to the melody swing through the overhead speakers.

The thoughts soon stopped breathing,

When you get back.

My determination comes instantly undone,

For you.

The routine is simple now, basic hand movements and subtle head tilts, leaning into the beat of the music as it rages through, pace suddenly picking up once the first verse ends.

Come a little closer.

You whisper,

Swallow,

The sugar rush.

Feast up in the night sky,

Sweet desire.

Taking me into the dream,

The liar on the bedside.

The movement picks up now, legs carrying their bodies a few feet away from center, hips swinging and bending, hands raising with each rise of their hips to draw towards their bodies. Wooyoung and San are annoyingly in sync, completely aware of how wordlessly well-matched they were. But the moment the pre-chorus enters the speakers, Wooyoung feels his heart sink.

I can feel it, I can't resist it,

That sweet devilish smile.

You open my locked door so easily.

Oh my, I see the stars.

The devil said–

On their knees, Wooyoung and San sit directly next to one another, hands moving just above their heads as the music suddenly drops, beats missing and only vocal tones present. Wooyoung is rigid, mind racing into the thought of the lyrics rather than the choreography, nearly missing the next cue to stand back onto his feet in tandem with San.

Gimme, gimme more.

Gimme, gimme more.

Wooyoung's eyes drift towards San in the mirror, watching him perform the movements of the chorus perfectly, hips leaning back and forth, hands sliding up his body with his head tilted back. Wooyoung is barely performing the routine, mind stuck on that of his dance partner, lyrics ringing loudly in his own ears.

Come here, more.

Let me give you a piggyback ride, more.

San continues without hesitation, moving through the movements of the dance devotedly, unaware of Wooyoung standing practically still, a few steps paced backwards towards the computer desk as he watches, letting the music consume him.

Sugar rush-ush, Sugar rush-ush,

Sugar rush-ush, Sugar rush-ush, ah.

Gimme, gimme more.

Gimme gimme, more.

Wooyoung can't breathe, watching San's hips and his torso move, body rolling and hands locking through hip-hop based movements that feel too warm. His chest is on fire, boiling with the longing lust to just fucking kiss the elder, hands finding the hem of his shirt as the music is suddenly too loud.

He can't hear. His mind is screaming, lungs closing and opening in tandem with hitched breaths, unknowingly walking backwards until he runs into the back of the desk, hearing the computer monitor be jostled slightly on top of the wooden desk.

Sugar rush-ush, Sugar rush-ush,

Sugar rush-ush, Sugar rush-ush, ah.

He can feel it now. Seonghwa had explained that he needed to listen to his heart and eventually the panic associated with feeling everything all at once would slowly fade away, but this was too much. He didn't want to listen to the feeling rising in his chest. It was lonely, singed with discomfort and tainted with the realization of doing something he would hate.

The thumping music, the suffocating dance, and the tension lingering between two torn souls made Wooyoung rush to the studio door, grab his bag and immediately run outside. His steps are quick through the hall, carrying his anxious body through the main doors until his lungs greet fresh, calming air. He brings himself to stop, hands finding his knees as he bends at the waist, eyes staring into the pavement as he listens to the noise inside of his head finally stop.

He knows what he needs now. It was more clear than anything has been the last two weeks. He was completely overwhelmed and overtaken by stress; all he needed was time.

"Woo?" A voice comes chasing after him, the front doors of the studio building quietly closing behind him.

"San'ah-" Wooyoung tries to catch his breath. "I just need a minute."

"But why do you have your bag?" Wooyoung's jaw tightens.

"I'm okay, San, I just need a minute, okay?"

"You're not okay." San's cold tone makes Wooyoung's heart ache. Wooyoung turns to look at the elder, eyes trying to avoid the worried gaze from San.

"San, please-"

"Talk to me." San pleads.

"I can't." Wooyoung threads a hand through his hair, a heavy exhale leaving his lips. "I just need a second. Can you give me that? Please?"

"Can you just tell me what the hell is going on with you?" San's tone catches Wooyoung off guard, wincing slightly at the harsh-edge to San's tongue. "You're acting so strange. You're not talking to me, you've barely looked at me, and now all of the sudden you rush out of dance practice looking like you've seen a ghost."

"We're not talking about this right now, San. I just need a second alone, please-"

"I don't know what I did, Woo, but I'm worried about you. I couldn't sleep last night because I was so worried that you would have that nightmare again and that you'd miss class."

"San, please." Wooyoung's gaze drops, and the sudden tightness in his chest returns.

"I just want to help you." San reaches out, heart on his sleeve, a glimmer of hope lingering in his gaze. San's hand grabs onto Wooyoung's, but Wooyoung timidly pulls away.

"I can't." Wooyoung murmurs, body rigid and taking two steps backwards. "I-"

Wooyoung hates this. He hates this more than anything. He tried to do everything in his power to ignore this feeling, but for once he had to choose himself and listen to Seonghwa's advice. "I need space."

San's heart immediately, and visibly, drops. Wooyoung can't blink the tears away as they fall, watching San turn through what seemed like several different emotions, but all Wooyoung can do is silently apologize in a hushed whisper.

San is silent and still for several seconds, every passing moment raising the anxiety pressing against Wooyoung's chest. He truly hated himself right now, especially with the way that San was looking at him so dejectedly and devoid of hope.

"Okay." San says quietly, hands falling to his sides timidly.

"I'm so sorry, San'ah." Wooyoung apologizes one final time, watching the elder turn around quietly, pacing towards the front door and waiting, hand on the cold metal handle for a second before turning his head towards the younger sadly.

"I'll be waiting. You know where to find me when you're ready. Please take care of yourself."

Wooyoung watches San disappear beyond the doors, walking back into the studio hall crestfallen. Wooyoung's head tilts down, tears streaming down his cheeks and curling beneath his jaw, hands gripping onto his shirt tighter than before.

He really didn't want to choose this, but for the sake of his mental health, it was the only thing he could do. The only peace Wooyoung can give himself is acknowledging that the internal screaming and begging had finally stopped.