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"Wooyoung... I don't— I don't know what to do, something's really wrong with me…"
The words rip violently out of Hongjoong chest, flaying him open at the sternum. He begs, for nothing and for everything at once. He exposes his raw, barely-beating heart, and waits for it to be crushed by rejection. Crushed by judgment. Crushed by anything at all, because Hongjoong's body has trained him to expect pain in every move he makes.
Wooyoung, as soft as a flower petal and as tender as a doe, deflates. His chin trembles he steps towards Hongjoong and takes his hands.
"Oh, baby …" Those two words carve a new chunk of guilt out of Hongjoong's gut, because he doesn't want Wooyoung to see him like this. Not him — all sweet sensitivity, all devoted loyalty and invigorating care. He's younger. He's more precious.
And here Hongjoong is, with the delicate touch of a freight train, forcing him to witness the self-destruction of the century.
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Bookmark Notes:
wowww so good
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