Love Me Still
Wooyoung x Female Reader
Part Ten
Part Nine
Chapter Warnings: Grief
Word Count: 2.4k
Strictly 18 + Minors Do Not Interact
Part Ten
The next day, you get up early to make him breakfast, moving quietly so as not to wake him. He looks so peaceful when he's asleep - none of the pain and anguish from yesterday marring his features. You're in the middle of cooking when you hear a soft noise from the bedroom. "Mm...."
"Woo?" You call.
He stirs awake slowly, his eyes fluttering open. He looks around the room groggily, disoriented for a moment before remembering everything. His face falls and he buries it in the pillow again, letting out a quiet, pained noise. A few seconds later, he sits up slowly, running a hand through his messy hair.
"I'm in the kitchen." You call.
He gets out of bed and walks into the kitchen slowly, looking a bit better than yesterday but still clearly hurting. He watches you cook silently for a moment before wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. He rests his head against your back, his voice muffled against your shirt. "Morning…"
"Morning."
He stays like that for a few moments, just holding onto you. It's clear that he needs physical contact and affection today - he's craving it like a drug. After a moment, he speaks again, his voice quiet. "You're making breakfast?"
“You need to eat.”
He makes a small sound that might be a laugh if it wasn't so sad. He presses a soft kiss between your shoulder blades before releasing you and taking a seat at the kitchen table. He watches you finish cooking, looking completely lost and drained. "I'm not hungry."
"I don't care."
He almost smiles at your tone, knowing you won't take no for an answer. When you set the plate of food in front of him, he picks up his fork automatically, more out of habit than actual hunger. He eats slowly, picking at the food more than actually eating.
"I have to go home in two days." you say slowly. "Back to Busan."
His hand pauses mid-air with the fork, his eyes snapping up to meet yours. For a moment, there's pure panic in his gaze before he schools his features, trying to hide his reaction. He sets the fork down carefully, his voice barely above a whisper. "Two days?"
"Yeah." you nod.
His jaw tightens visibly, and he looks down at his plate, pushing the food around aimlessly. The thought of you leaving is clearly too much for him right now - he just buried his father the day before, and now you're going too. When he speaks again, his voice is strained.
"Why can't you stay longer?" It's not a demand.
"I have to go back to work. I don't want to."
He nods slowly, understanding - at least on an intellectual level. But emotionally, he's falling apart. He knows you have responsibilities, but right now, all he can think is ‘it’s not fair.’ He stands up abruptly from the table, his chair scraping against the floor.
"Hey." you say, reaching for his hand. "We'll figure something out okay?"
He freezes at your touch, his hand automatically reaching back to hold onto yours tightly. Tears suddenly well up in his eyes, and he turns to face you fully, leaning into your embrace without hesitation. A choked sob escapes him as he buries his face in your neck. "Don't leave..."
"I have to."
He clings to you like you're the only thing keeping him grounded, his tears soaking into your shirt. He knows you're right, and he knows he's being selfish, but he just lost the most important person in his life. He feels like he's losing you too.
"When..." he sniffles, trying to compose himself, "...when will I see you again?"
"A few weeks?"
The thought of being without you for even a few weeks is unbearable right now, but he knows there's no other choice. He nods slowly, trying to accept the situation, but the tears keep falling, and his arms keep tightening around you. "So long…" he whispers, his voice breaking.
“I know...” You pause for a moment. “You could always…come to me?”
His eyes light up at the suggestion briefly before reality hits again. He pulls back slightly to look at you, his voice barely above a whisper, "You know I can't just leave like that. Especially not right now with everything happening." He pauses, “Would you even want me there?”
"I know you can't, I'm sorry, it was a silly suggestion."
He buries his face in your neck again, feeling a wave of exhaustion and despair wash over him. He doesn't have the energy for this conversation right now. All he wants is for you to hold him and tell him everything will be okay, even if he knows it's not true. "I'm tired." He mumbles
"You’re not going back to bed." You say firmly.
He pulls back slightly, looking at you with red-rimmed eyes. He knows you're right, but the thought of facing the day is overwhelming. "I don't want to..." He sniffles, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "Can we just..."
"We're going to go for a walk."
He looks at you like you've lost your mind, but there's a small part of him that knows sitting in the house alone will just make everything feel worse. "It's cold outside." He protests. He sounds like a petulant child.
"Then we'll wrap up. The fresh air will do you good. Go get dressed."
He wants to argue more, but he can tell you won't back down. Slowly, he pulls away from your embrace and shuffles to the bedroom to get ready. He moves slowly, like everything is heavy and painful.
Twenty minutes later you're leaving, wrapped up in warm hats and scarves. As you walk out of the house, the cold air hits his face and he instinctively pulls his scarf higher up his nose. His hands are stuffed deep in his pockets, and he walks slowly beside you, his shoulders hunched against the wind. The streets are relatively quiet at this time of day.
"Are you up to talking... about us?" You ask, carefully.
He's silent for a moment, his jaw clenched. He's been avoiding this conversation, but he knows it's inevitable. He swallows hard before answering quietly, "I don't want to talk about us." His voice is flat, devoid of emotion. "There's no point."
"No point?" You repeat.
He stops walking and turns to face you, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and pain. "What's the point, hm? You're leaving in two days. We're just gonna talk about how much it's gonna suck when you're gone? How much I'm gonna miss you?"
You stare at him. "Woo, you're not being fair."
He looks away, jaw ticking. He knows you're right, but rationality left his mind the moment his father took his last breath. You watching him crumble, his whole world falling apart in front of you - that's too much. "Fair...?" He laughs bitterly, shaking his head. "Nothing about this is fair, you know that."
"I do, but it's also not my fault. It's not anyone's fault."
He knows that logically, but emotionally, he's lashing out because he feels helpless and scared. He runs a hand over his face, suddenly feeling exhausted and ashamed. "I know it's not your fault." His voice is quieter now. "I'm being a jerk."
"You're hurting."
He nods slowly, eyes downcast. The cold air bites at his cheeks, but he barely feels it. "I feel like everything is falling apart." He finally meets your gaze. "And I'm trying not to take it out on you, but then you suggest we talk about 'us' when I know what that means - you want closure." He swallows hard.
"Is that what you want?"
He hesitates, his face twisting with conflicted emotions. He looks away again, watching the snow fluttering down from the grey sky. For a moment, he doesn't answer. Then he says quietly,
"I want you to stay."
You swallow. "Then give me some time."
He looks back at you, his eyes searching your face. He knows he's being selfish, asking you to put your life on hold for him, but the thought of you leaving and never coming back, it's unbearable.
"Time?" He repeats softly, almost hopefully. "Like... a few weeks?"
"Let me sort my job, my finances. I moved to get away from you Woo, I need to... arrange things."
He nods slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. He hates that you had to move away from him in the first place. He hates that you have to 'arrange things' now, like he's asking you to uproot your life again. "Right... fuck."
"Hey" you say, cupping his face. "We'll talk every day okay?"
He leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut. He's quiet for a moment, savoring the warmth of your hand on his face. Then he nods, opening his eyes to meet your gaze. "Every day." He promises softly. "And texts, and calls, and FaceTime."
"All of the above." you laugh.
He tries to smile, but it's weak. He pulls your hand away from his face and holds it tightly, intertwining your fingers. "You better not ignore me." He murmurs, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "Or I'll show up at your doorstep unannounced."
"You don't know where I live." you tease.
His lips twitch with the hint of a genuine smile, his eyes lightening momentarily.
"Then give me your address so I can memorise it." He pauses, then adds seriously, "I'm not joking. If you ghost me, I'll find you."
"Asshole." you say, kissing his nose.
He chuckles softly at your kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. The snow is falling heavier now, sticking to your hair and clothes. He rests his forehead against yours. "Love you." The words come out naturally, almost involuntarily. "Don't forget that."
"I love you too."
He closes his eyes, holding you tightly as if trying to memorise the feeling. The snow falls around you, creating a quiet, peaceful moment amidst the chaos of your emotions. "I'll wait for you." He whispers against your lips before kissing you softly. "However long it takes."
~~~~~~~~~~
A week later you're back at your 9-5 in Busan. You've been speaking to Wooung every day, he's having a hard time, but he hasn't shut down.
You answer his call on the first ring, his face appearing on your screen. He looks tired, dark circles under his eyes, hair messy. But he's smiling - for you.
"Morning." His voice is rough from sleep, but warm. "Missed you last night."
"Missed you too." you say, your mouth full of toothpaste. "Are you back at work today?"
He groans, leaning back against his pillow. "Going in later. I'm still in bed." He pauses, watching you brush your teeth on the screen. Something in his expression shifts, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You look like shit." He teases softly. "Your hair's a disaster."
"You don't look much better."
He laughs, the sound rough but genuine. It's the first real laugh you've heard from him since his father died. "Fair point." He runs a hand through his messy hair. "I look like l've been crying and not sleeping."
"Have you?"
His expression turns serious, the smile fading. He looks away for a moment before meeting your gaze again. "Every night." He admits quietly. "It's harder than I thought it would be. Being alone in this house.." He trails off, his voice cracking slightly. "I miss you."
"I miss you too."
He nods, swallowing hard. You see him compose himself, taking a deep breath. "But I'm not falling apart today. I promised myself I'd be functional for the meetings." He tries to smile.
"You can do it."
He nods, your words giving him some strength. He knows you believe in him, and that means everything right now. "'I’ll call you during lunch. And tonight. I’ll FaceTime you before bed. Okay?" His voice is soft, almost vulnerable. "Please be there."
"I will be."
He smiles genuinely this time, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Having something - or someone - to look forward to is helping him get through these dark days. "Thank you." He whispers, his voice teary. "I love you."
Later that night, he's back in his bedroom, the curtains drawn against the darkening sky. He's changed into comfortable sweats, his hair still slightly damp from a quick shower. He sees your face light up the screen as he calls you.
"Hey." He smiles softly.
"Hey baby."
His heart melts at the famillar endearment. No one else calls him that, and hearing it from your lips makes him feel like maybe, just maybe, things will be okay. "I survived the day." He says, lying down on his bed and propping the phone up against his pillow.
"Good, I'm proud of you. Did you eat?"
He laughs softly. "You sound like my mom." But the comparison isn't annoying, it's comforting. You're taking care of him from miles away. "Yes, I ate. Had dinner with the guys actually." A small victory.
You smile. "How are they?"
"They're worried about me, but they're trying to be normal. We talked about work stuff mostly, didn't make a big deal of... you know." He swallows hard, not wanting to cry in front of you again. "It was actually kind of nice."
“Good.”
He nods, looking at your face on the screen. You're his calm in the storm, his anchor in the chaos. He reaches out to touch the phone, as if he can reach through the screen and touch you instead. "I'm really tired." He admits quietly. "But I don't want to hang up."
“That's okay. I can stay here until you fall asleep, whatever you need.”
No one has ever been this patient and caring with him before. He lies down fully, the phone still propped up so he can see you. "You’ll stay on the call until | fall asleep?" His voice is hoarse with emotion.
"Yeah." you whisper.
He nods, closing his eyes. The sound of your gentle breathing and the occasional soft word fills the silence. He drifts off to sleep with a tear sliding down his cheek, feeling loved and safe in a way he hasn't in a long time. His hand rests on the phone, as if holding onto you.
The next chapter will be the final one!
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