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There's always been a rainbow

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It hadn’t stopped raining since San had died.  

San is dead .  

The moon still gleams her silver across window panes, the sun still rises, tipping a dusky apricot over tree tops and skin, and the Blue Mesa Reservoir still washes up the shells that hum beneath the surface in their dark oasis. The world did not stop and mourn for San- It kept spinning.  

Spinning. Spinning. Spinning.  

Spinning her wheel, coalescing all the lost stars, indigos of the night, and the wet tears of rain.  

That was the thing- the world kept going, even if you didn’t. Loss was not something foreign, and time stopping. Loss hurt like hell, and he did not know that losing San was going change everything. How was anyone supposed to know? While the Earth in fact does not stop turning, twisting, or whatever shit it does- you stop turning. Unmitigated. Absolute. Departed. And that is what San was; San was dead.  

Wooyoung was sure of these things only. 

It was like when a kid at school dies, or maybe when a friend dies when you’re young. You know, the sudden death kind. The kind of death that came out of nowhere- the kind that knocks the wind out of you. Suddenly their seat is empty next to yours without warning in history, you don’t have to pick them up before school. Maybe it was a random kid at your school that you never talked to, but you knew of them. It leaves an odd empty feeling in you, a weird null that reads ERROR in all red. Your brain can literally not comprehend the fact that they’re gone.  

Gone, gone.  

This void- Wooyoung couldn’t think of a better name for it. 


Wooyoung looked blankly at his computer screen, and the bottom right corner blinked 8:23am. 

It changed to 8:24am. 

Wooyoung was sure of the world that still kept spinning and he was sure of the fact that San was with him right now- he knew that for a fact, because San was still sitting next to him. 

Well, sitting across from him. 

His long legs were stretched out in front of him, his body slumped in Wooyoung’s desk chair and his ankles crossed in front of each other. 

“Did you miss me?”  

It was something San asked every morning, and every morning he expected an honest reply. 

“A little bit.” 

San’s eyebrows raised up, his lips pouting into the position that Wooyoung always used to stare at for moments too long.  

“Only a little?” 

Wooyoung hummed and he threw himself back onto the pile of pillows and fluffy blankets, the tiny particles of dust flew up around him in the gray tones of the room. The rain had yet to cease, it was like the world was still mourning. “It gets better as the days go on, it has been eleven months you know?” 

San whistled and he twisted his cap backwards on his head and he leaned forward to prop his elbows on his thighs, his mouth twisted into a smile. The smile was so fucking real sometimes- it was painful to see. 

“Eleven months, already? Weird. It honestly still feels like yesterday that the-” 

“San. I don’t wanna hear about that.” 

San rolled his eyes and he huffed, getting up to shut the blinds. Wooyoung still couldn’t comprehend the fact that San could move things, pull things, touch things; The physical world was never a challenge for Choi San, it was always just his fantastical ideas that caused him the trouble. 

“You have to move on eventually,” San said, and he spun around to face him, his slender hands resting on his hips, his shirt riding up his hipbones, “So I can move on. This world is too tiring for me.” 

Wooyoung felt his chest cave in, his heart doing a stutter that reversed the blood in his veins, a stutter that splashed sticky salt over his drying wounds. It had been eleven months since San had died, but only three months since he had tried to move on. He knew it was ridiculous to miss someone this much- no one in Wooyoung’s life had ever missed him so he didn’t really know how to cope with feelings like this. No one Wooyoung had cared about had ever died.  


That was something he repeated thrice with conviction every morning the past three months, the word catching on the rungs of his ribs and twisting back down into the pit of his stomach with no avail. Death was such a weird thing, such an odd concept that never seemed to make sense to Wooyoung. Wooyoung had been alone forever when it came to relationships- well, until San had spun into his life with silver belled laughs and music box lights that beamed glorious golds and gentle rose hues. He was a fair on a Tuesday, a boat ride on a rainy Thursday, and a good morning kiss on a Sunday.  

Choi San was a star that was a hush of light in a dark corridor and a thrum of whispers that floated down the navy hall. 

Wooyoung sat up, his black hair sticking up on one side, “Trust me. I know I have to move on, this annoys me, I have tried everything.” 

“Have you really?” San said, skepticism traced in his twinkling, yet careful voice. San always treaded lightly on the clouds of Wooyoung’s feelings, he never liked to make him feel bad. 

Wooyoung already knew the answer, he just didn’t really want to talk about it.  


They both knew he was lying. 









“Have you talked to San’s sister recently?” Yeosang stirred his bowl of cereal, the milk sloshed over the top and a Frosted Flake toppled on the table. Wooyoung watched the milk run slowly down the side of the baby blue bowl.  

“Was I supposed to?” Wooyoung retorted, flipping the page of his organic chemistry book- he really wasn’t paying attention to any of the formulas. Who actually understood organic chem anways? That’s right, no one. Not even San who was a Biology major.  

“No,” Yeosang said slowly, crunching on his food loudly (to Wooyoung’s annoyance) with a look of hesitation, “I just heard that her dad passed away recently.” 

Wooyoung heard a scoff from beside him and he ignored it- he couldn’t look at San in public or show a reaction because Yeosang would literally call him fucking bonkers. There was no way he was ever going to tell anyone, but San made it really hard when he talked to him in places like this.  

“Serves him right.” San said from beside him, throwing his arm over Wooyoung’s shoulder.  

Wooyoung ignored him and continued to flip the pages of his book, “I might call her later but I don’t think she is too worried about their dad. They never talked to him anyways.” 

Yeosang shrugged, “Yeah I suppose.” He frowned and looked out the window of the apartment and leaned back in his chair to cross his arms over each other. “I just can’t imagine losing a parent, or someone close to me in that has to fucking suck.” 

Wooyoung hummed, his stomach twisting, and he highlighted a random sentence just to make himself feel like he was accomplishing something. 

“It feels...weird?” Wooyoung said, looking up to meet Yeosang’s large and doe-like eyes, “It’s like they never leave, but you know they’re gone. Someone who was once real and tangible isn’t anymore and that itself is something hard to grasp, I guess.” He trailed off, his voice gone quiet and he highlighted another sentence a bright yellow.  

Yeosang shifted in his seat and he was now just mixing his cereal to keep his hands busy. His words were slow, hesitant almost, “How are you, by the way? Speaking of things like this- yanno.” 

Yeosang, his childhood best friend, was scared to ask Wooyoung hard questions for once. That was kind of a wake-up call to him, considering that Yeosang was the one to always just give it to him straight and honest. That was how it has always been.  

Memories of Yeosang being twelve and telling Wooyoung to ‘stop crying when you lose a game’ flashed through his mind- he always hated losing things. Yeosang was one person in Wooyoung’s life that stuck through, one person that kept Wooyoung going through all of it.  

Wooyoung turned back to him, “I am good. It has almost been a year and I know I am moving on slowly but surely. I kind of have to, he isn’t ever going to come back anyways. I am ‘healing’ I suppose you could say.” He said throwing up his hands to make the air quotations. 

Yeosang let a tired chuckle escape and his lips turned up into a bitter, but small smile. “You make it sound easy Wooyoungie, let yourself have some room to breathe.” 

For what is worth of not visiting Yeosang for 3 months, he missed his laugh. His laugh that was the sun. 

Wooyoung knew Yeosang was right, he always saw right through his best friend. Wooyoung really couldn’t bullshit Yeosang, could he? 

“I don’t think anyone expects you to be normal just because it has been almost a year...people heal at different rates and the whole societal ‘acceptable-move-on-time' is absolute bullshit, isn’t it? Imagine telling someone they need to move on because it has been long enough. I think people should move on- it isn’t healthy to cling like that, but we need to stop giving people a fucking timer.” Yeosang was explaining this as he was washing his cereal bowl, his arms flying wildly as he talked to Wooyoung.  

Wooyoung felt a tear run down his face and a small finger reached out to wipe it away, a finger that smelled like home and had the texture of a satin petal.  

San would always wipe his tears, even after he was gone. Would he still wipe them after Wooyoung moved on? 









“Yeosang has always been a good guy.” San said next to him as they walked back to the apartment, their shoulders brushing- Wooyoung didn’t think he could get used to the warm skin that San wore even while he was dead.  

“Yeah,” said Wooyoung as he looked up above him at the bronze streetlamps that pulsed washed out browns on the surface of their body. The rain had fallen to a light drizzle, it’s thin raindrops padded lightly on his eyelids. “He needs to date somebody, he would make a great boyfriend.” 

San hummed, “Why don’t you date Yeosang?” 

Wooyoung came to a stop, the person walking past he and San gave Wooyoung a weird look and hurried past with their defenses ready. Oh right, he was in public.  

“Why would I date Yeosang?” 

San looked confused, “Why wouldn’t you?” 

“Because I have yo-” Wooyoung stopped himself.  


San’s eyes were dark in the dim light of the bronze streetlamp and he could of swore he saw determination San’s soft cheeks- the rosy hue still prominent.  

“In case you have forgotten, Wooyoung, I am dead.” 

Well, that was certainly a problem.  

It was always so easy to forget that he wasn’t actually with him alive. It was easy for Wooyoung to continue on after his death, in a way, because he didn’t have to come home to an empty bed, he didn’t lose the person he talked to the most- he didn’t have to go through the emotional loss of San in his physical life. San was just  there . He always was. 

“I know. I know.  I know .” Said Wooyoung, spinning around to face the opposite way. “It’s just-” Wooyoung stopped to gather himself, and he started again,”It’s just easy to forget, is all I am trying to say. And, I don’t like Yeosang. Not like that, anyways.” 

San let a secret smile twist on the corners of his mouth, the lips pulling up like magic and he pulled Wooyoung around to face him.  

“Sometimes you have to face things, you can’t just act like it is not there, and especially when the problem is looking you right in the eye.” 

He and Wooyoung maintained eye contact and Wooyoung nodded, “Got it.” 

“I don’t think you do.” 

“I don’t want to. If I want to ignore it, why don’t you let me?” 

Wooyoung didn’t think they were talking about Wooyoung’s other issues anymore- they were talking about San. 

“It isn’t me that needs to move on Wooyoung. I mean yeah, I need to move on but I already have emotionally- it is  you  that is keeping me in the physical world in case you have forgotten. I am ready. I have been ready since the moment I fucking died.” San tapped his finger on his temple repeatedly, “When will you get that? When will you understand that you think you have improved but you really haven’t? Stop lying to yourself.” 

Wooyoung hated to admit it, he really did, but San always looked beautiful when he was angry at Wooyoung.  

How did one move on when their dead boyfriend was always hanging around them? How was Wooyoung ever going to bring a guy or girl or anyone, for that matter, home if San was just going to be chilling in the living room sitting on the loveseat?  

It was almost like San read his mind, and he huffed angrily and tapped Wooyoung’s forehead with the pad of his index finger. “You can move on from me without finding another person to love. Sometimes you just have to love yourself first, Wooyoung. You can move on from me without feeling like you’re trying to replace something that used to be there before.” 

San was right- he wasn’t just a broken coffee mug that had fallen from the cupboard. He didn’t have to replace the coffee mug because he had other cups. He had other things to drink out of. San didn’t have to be replaceable. 

“I don’t think that I have to replace you-” 

“Can you do me a favor? Stop lying to yourself again.”  

Wooyoung sighed running a hand through his hair, and he looked up at the stars that was shining above them, the constellations that spelled out dreams and stories for their past lovers. Wooyoung wondered if San was ready to be a constellation that too, displayed the hymns of tales and secrecy.  

“You don’t have to lie to me, I can  feel  that’s why I can’t move on. It’s not that I have unfinished business, it’s that  someone else  feels like they have unfinished business with me.” San said with a whisper. He looked troubled, and for once since, since he had died, he actually looked pale and sickly. 

Wooyoung nodded, “Okay.” He breathed in a deep breath of air, the smell of rain would always remind him of San. “I promise to try and fix this.” 









Wooyoung had woken with a start, his eyes flying open. 

For some reason, his heart was thudding, a rabbit that had escaped the narrow paws of death- a sound of thunder rumbled the apartment and the glass window that overlooked the city quivered like a butterfly’s wing. Just a hint of delicacy that hid behind the power of the storm that roared outside. 

That was why he had awoken- the thunder was painful to think about. It reminded him of too much. 


The dark room was silent for a moment, his erratic breathing filled the room like shadows of fairytales. 

“Yes?” San’s quiet whisper saturated the room again, his voice a cup of sugar that poured into the candy bowl, a sweet and saccharine sip of love. 

Wooyoung sighed a breath of relief, his breath fanning out a gust of wind. “Okay- you’re here.” 

“I know how you get with storms, so I came to visit.” 

Wooyoung thought it was ironic that San had come in as an olive green tide that washed up into the shores of his life, and he had danced back out of it with the rain. 

He and San had met when it was raining, San’s black hair stuck to his forehead and his eyes so dark that they almost looked like the sea in the midst of a storm.  All San had to do was smile, and Wooyoung was a goner. 

San was like the rain that twirled down the windows of a car, he was the breath of sea air that rejuvenated the young, and he was the laugh that echoed through the riptides of thunder. He was some sort of being that swam around Wooyoung’s existence in the form of a beautiful boy with a pretty smile and messy hair.  

 “How was The Middle?” Wooyoung asked. 

“Uncomfortable, but when you don’t need me, I reside there.” 

“I do need you.” 

“When you’re sleeping you don’t.” 

“I am awake now.” Wooyoung said, sitting up straighter. The thunder boomed again but this time it shook the butterfly wings of the glass even harder. The storm was brewing, stirring its insides- waiting. 

“And I am here now, aren’t I?” 

And Wooyoung supposes that is true. 

The rain had began, and it came down like a swoop of an Eagle’s attack, rattling the glass wall of the apartment. San’s dark figure reached towards the wall and flipped the light on with the switch. 

“Sitting in the dark isn’t going to help with anything.” 

Wooyoung opened his mouth to reply but his phone started to buzz on the pillow next to him and he frowned. The caller ID flashed Yeosang’s name brilliantly on the screen. 

Wooyoung’s thumb slid across the screen and he answered, “Hyung?” 

“Hey.” Yeosang said, his voice shaky, like he was nervous. San cocked his head to the side from the other point across the room and he mouthed, “Is he okay?” 

Wooyoung nodded and he replied, “Is everything okay? It is-” he leaned over to the other side to see his clock that rested on his night stand, “-three in the morning?” 

“I really hope I didn’t wake you I just-” a thud was heard from the other side of the phone and a “shit” was mumbled into the speaker.  

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah. I dropped something. Anyways, can I come over?” 

“Right now?” 

“Yeah. I- I don’t like storms and the power is out here.” 

That was right- Yeosang had hated storms since they were younger, too, and he had always came over to Wooyoung’s house with his eyes wide and his arms filled with blankets. Wooyoung’s mom had always let him in with a soft smile. That was before she had left. 

Wooyoung’s eyes flitted to San, who was spinning around in the desk chair, throwing a ball up at the ceiling, not paying attention to the conversation anymore. Well, he thinks. San doesn’t really show that much emotion since he died, it takes a lot of energy. San stood up and walked to the living room, giving a quick smile to Wooyoung. Odd.  

“Your power is out? That’s weird, it’s still on her-” Before Wooyoung could finish the last syllable, the light of his nightstand flickered out, and the house grew silent with a hush. 

“Nevermind. It just went out too.” Wooyoung said, peering out his window and seeing the lit up apartments near him, their lights still shining proudly and mockingly.  

San still wasn’t anywhere to be seen.  

“But yeah- you can come over, of course.” 

He heard Yeosang sigh with relief before the third round of thunder rolled in once again, shaking everything in its path.  

“Just let me grab my keys-” 


There was a pause.  

“T-take the subway,” Wooyoung stuttered out. The rain was too dangerous. 

“Okay, Wooyoung. I will take the subway.” 









Wooyoung had a series of flashbacks from his childhood when he had opened the door to a sopping wet Yeosang with a backpack that looked stuffed.  

 “I brought snacks.” 

Wooyoung smiled and he opened the door wider- he wouldn’t admit it, but it was nice to have company over for once. Someone that wasn’t his boyfriend’s ghost. Or should he say ex? Ex. His ex boyfriend’s ghost.  

“Shrimp chips?” 

“Always. Oh-” He swung his bag back around and unzipped the front pocket to reveal a box of Frosted Flakes, “-and cereal. Do you have milk?” 

Though the thunder had awoken Wooyoung from the dead of his sleep, he found himself wide awake and Yeosang seemed awake too. But, Wooyoung figured that wouldn’t last long, they were college students and they needed any bit of sleep they could get their fingers on.  

Wooyoung scanned Yeosang, his t-shirt was sticking to his body in sinful ways and his shiny black hair was pushed back effortlessly. Wooyoung always envied how good Yeosang always looked, even if he was terrified and soaked to the bone.  

“You need to change, you’re getting water all over my floor.” Wooyoung nagged pulling Yeosang away from the entry of the living room and towards his bedroom.  

Yeosang fussed and he slapped Wooyoung’s hands away, “I will in a minute, let me put my bag down.” Wooyoung wasn’t thinking clearly when he obviously saw Yeosang set down his bag and enter the bathroom empty handed. Neither was Yeosang.  

Wooyoung sat down on the bed, exhaling a loud sigh. He was so tired. 


Wooyoung looked up to see a tiny Yeosang peeking around the bathroom doors frame, and he looked embarrassed.  

“Can I help you?” 

Yeosang snapped, “Actually you can, sir. I would say hand me my bag that has dry clothes in it, but I can’t. Because I didn’t bring any.” 

Wooyoung sighed- he didn’t expect any less. Yeosang was always intelligent all throughout high school and the first two years of college, he was an Engineering major for crying out loud, but he lacked common sense at times. But, he could do your math homework for you, if that counted for anything.  

“Okay, you know where my clothes are.” Wooyoung replied continuing to scroll through his phone- he tapped another heart on his friend Hongjoong’s post about cats.  

“I am naked.” 

Wooyoung looked up from his phone this time, and he wasn’t sure why he blushed. Yeosang was blushing too.  

“I’ve seen you naked before.” replied Wooyoung, furrowing his brow. They have been best friends since middle school, so it wasn’t ever a shock to see one another naked at times. They basically lived together at one point, but that was before he and San moved in together. Yeosang said he didn’t want to hear them fucking every night any more so he had gotten an apartment with their friend Seonghwa. 

“Well, yeah,” Yeosang said, rolling his eyes like it was obvious, “But I am a grown man now, thank you very much.” 

Wooyoung, incredulous, replied, “A grown man? A gro-” 

Yeosang snapped, “Dear God,  Wooyoung  just give me some clothes for crying out loud! I am cold. My ass is literally out as we speak.” 

That made the flush in Wooyoung’s cheeks rise higher and he tossed the covers off himself with a huff and he waved an annoyed hand in Yeosang’s direction. “Okay, okay. Just- close the door. I don’t want to see your ass in the mirror behind you.” Yeosang whipped his head behind him to look in the mirror and he closed the door with a swift and audible  click .  

Wooyoung grumbled to himself and he snatched up some black joggers and a black comfy t-shirt from his cherry drawers.  

He paused.  

He should probably grab him some underwear. He sifted through his drawer for a moment before pulling out boxers that were covered in a bunch of anime girls. He knocked on the door of the bathroom and Yeosang peered out, his doe eyes were large and innocent. Wooyoung felt his stomach swoop. He begged it to stop. 


Yeosang’s arm carefully reached out and he took the clothes out of Wooyoung’s hands, “Thanks.” 


Wooyoung dragged himself back to his bed and he flopped back down on it, throwing himself backwards. His head hit the mattress with a  thud  and he crossed his arms over his head, covering his eyes. He really did miss hanging out with Yeosang and he kind of regretted not hanging out with him as much as he used to. After San had died- he didn’t really know what to say to his best friend. He figured Yeosang didn’t really care if he talked or not, because Yeosang was the type to let one sit in silence. He was the type to listen. Yeosang was too good for the world sometimes.  

Why  are  there anime girls on my balls?”  










“Why did Jongho do that?” Yeosang gasped, clutching his stomach. Wooyoung giggled and he threw his hood up over his head and he shrugged, “Bored. Drunk. Not really a good mixture for him if we are being honest.” 

Yeosang giggled too and he rested his head back against Wooyoung’s head board, his eyes closing. “I haven’t seen Mingi and Jongho in a while.” 

Wooyoung hummed, “I haven’t seen them in a while too, I think they have been busy up in college anyways. “ 

Yeosang opened his eyes and he looked up at the ceiling, his hair falling gracefully onto the ridges of his eyebrows. He looked like he was pondering.  

“I don’t think I have saw them since the funeral.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he looked over at Wooyoung with wide eyes, panic flaring up in his orbs. 

“I didn’t mean to bring it up, Wooyoung. I am so-” 

“-It’s okay.” Wooyoung said, his face falling serious. The thunder had calmed down now, but the rain was still as harsh as ever, rattling down like hellfire on the roof of the building without mercy.  

Yeosang looked over, his bottom lip in between his teeth. A habit he had when he was nervous. 

“It’s not a bad thing to bring up. I am moving on Yeosang, I have to. It is what he wants me to do.” 

Yeosang kept his eyes on him, and he spoke slowly, “I used to get worried for you. You still speak like he is here sometimes and that scares me.”  

Wooyoung’s stomach flipped and the once graceful butterflies began to gnaw on his insides, gathering their pollen to grow into something larger. 

“Sometimes I feel like he is still here.” Wooyoung whispered, drawing his knees up to his chin while avoiding eye contact with Yeosang. He continued, as Yeosang was silent, listening. “I don’t think I am necessarily stuck on him- like I don’t think that I can’t move on or anything. I just don’t think I can stand him being truly out of my life, you know?”  

Wooyoung’s own words shocked him, his eyes and body growing still. God, that really was why he couldn’t move on from San, or even let San move on. It wasn’t that he thought he wasn’t capable of loving someone else- he had realized a while back that love was an option again. Sometimes people can have multiple soulmates, just at different times. He just didn’t know how to let San go from his life, especially someone that prominent.  

Like he said before, it was like San was always there. From the moment they met they were attached-every second, every minute, every hour they had in passing, they were spending it together. Choi San was the epitome of love and rain.  

But even the rain has to stop eventually.  

Wooyoung supposes it was so hard to move on from San when the world made it look so easy. 

The moon still gleams her silver across window panes, the sun still rises, tipping a dusky apricot over tree tops and skin, and the Blue Mesa Reservoir still washes up the shells that hum beneath the surface in their dark oasis. The world did not stop and mourn for San- It kept spinning.   

Spinning. Spinning. Spinning.   

Spinning her wheel, coalescing all the lost stars, indigos of the night, and the wet tears of rain.  

Wooyoung was just angry at the world for not giving a damn. It had been a year after all, and he would still hurt thinking about it as life went on, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t heal. That he couldn’t have a love as equally as amazing as what he had with San.  

Love wasn’t the only relevant thing in the world. 

San spoke after a moment’s silence and he nodded. “I would like to say that I understand and know what you’re going through. But I don’t. That is the harsh reality of it, the fact that I will never understand what you mean until much later in life- but even then, who is to say that I won’t die first before my boyfriend or girlfriend? Who is to say?” Yeosang sighed, and he leaned forward to flip the hood off of Wooyoung’s head and he gave him a soft smile, a smile meant for only them. 

“I am glad that you realize these things, Wooyoung.” Yeosang was soft like the sun that Wooyoung missed, and he radiated the energy of flowers in bloom. Yeosang was the spring that Wooyoung used to love. 

Wooyoung felt the flowers bloom onto his cheeks, and he shyly looked into Yeosang’s eyes, “Thank you- that means a lot.” 









“Did you miss me?” San asked, sitting on the desk chair his eyes bright and his sly grin shining in coexistence.  

Wooyoung, confused, looked around the room for Yeosang. Was it all a dream? 

“He is in the kitchen eating Frosted Flakes. He used all of your milk, by the way.” 

Wooyoung groaned, and stretched his arms above his head, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.  

“So,” San leaned forward, his eyes bright, “Did you miss me?” 

“Only a little.” And this time, Wooyoung felt like he meant it. It wasn’t going to happen right away, but the fissures in his heart was sealing over. 

San looked beautiful swathed in the sunlight that created a halo over his head, and his smile got even brighter. 

 “That’s good. That is really good.” 









It had been a month since Yeosang had slept over, and basically a month since they had been separated. 

Yeosang was practically over at Wooyoung’s every night, and vice versa- basically they never left each other’s sides. Wooyoung felt bad for thinking that this was a chance to be like old times. Old times that he didn’t miss until now. With how busy Wooyoung was and how often he was in constant conversation with Yeosang, he didn’t have much time to talk to San like he used to.  

“Why haven’t you come to me in a while?” Wooyoung asked one night, alone for the first time in a while. Yeosang was over at some guys house for “studying”. 

San hummed as he shrugged, “You haven’t needed me in a while.” 

Wooyoung furrowed his eyebrows and he sat up on the couch from where he was resting, and he cocked his head to the side. “I always need you.” 

San rolled his eyes as he sat on the windowsill that overlooked the city, “I don’t mean it as in you don’t care, idiot. I mean it as in you usually used me for comfort, but Yeosang has been your comfort recently.” 

Wooyoung opened his mouth to protest, “That’s not a  bad  thing Wooyoung.” He smiled and rolled his eyes again (a habit he kept even as a ghost, huh) spinning back to face him.  

“I can feel you letting go- it feels really nice.” 

“I’m sorry.” Wooyoung whispered, fiddling with the chipped black nail polish on his thumb, “I didn’t mean to make you feel this way for so long and be miserable.” 

San shook his head and he tutted, “No, no, no.” He sat next to Wooyoung, the couch barely dipping. His physical form was getting lighter.  

“I don’t mean to make you feel guilty when I say these things, my Wooyoungie. Never. I am just being honest with you- do you think I could really be mad at you for not wanting to let me leave? You’re supposed to miss the ones you love, baby. You’re supposed to.” 

Wooyoung hadn’t ever really let himself cry hard since the funeral- but he felt it coming. It was coming fast. 

Tears began pouring down his face and onto the collar of his shirt and he felt his shoulders begin to shake. It was like someone was holding the gates of water closed for a year, and finally opening them up at once with one mighty  tug.  Wooyoung cried. 

And cried. 

And cried. 

His chest was heaving with great sobs and his face was buried in the blanket that covered his knees. The blanket him mom gave him so long ago.  

He knew crying was good for the soul, and he knew Choi San was right.  

You were supposed to miss the ones you loved when they die, and you were supposed to feel empty for a while. That was part of being human, that was part of being  alive.  You missed the other person enough for the both of you, since they couldn’t feel anymore. That was the thing about being a breathing human- you were supposed to feel everything. The way the rain feels on the skin, the way it feels when all of your friends are laughing at something you said, the way it feels to drive with the windows down and to hear your favorite song blooming from the radio.  

The. Way. It. Feels. To. Be. Alive.  

Though San was here, he wasn’t alive. He didn’t feel these things, and he never would.  

San always said that he saw the world in a plethora of colors, in a sense, a rainbow. “If you could see what I see, Wooyoung, you would be blinded by the colors.” 

Wooyoung thinks he understands what San meant now.  

When Wooyoung finally looked up, after spending an hour crying into his knees, his eyes were met with San’s dark ones. Wooyoung swore he saw a singular tear rolling down the expanse of his cheek. 

“No one said it was going to be easy, did they?” San said, tilting his head, a wry smile playing on his rosy hued lips. 

“No,” Wooyoung replied, looking out the window, “No, they didn’t.” 

San twirled a piece of Wooyoung’s hair around his finger and he shot him a smile, “You look good. Better than usual- you look like you finally have some color to you.” 

“I do feel better,” Wooyoung admitted, wiggling his toes around to bring back feeling in them. He paused and fiddled with the rips in his jeans. “I think- I think everything is going to be okay. I  know  it is- actually.” 

San nodded, “What do you think is helping you?” 

“I would say Yeosang, because that is true, but I think it is just myself too. I feel myself coming to terms with a lot of things, I am trying not to avoid it- just like you said. I am following your advice. I know it isn’t going to happen overnight- it doesn’t work like that. But, I think having these conversations with you- these conversations that I never wanted to talk about is helping.” Wooyoung stopped speaking for a moment, letting the dawning of realization wash over his shoulders and down his legs. 

“I am finally discussing my unfinished business with you, and it feels fucking amazing.” 

San giggled, his laugh echoing off of the white walls, his hair flopping. “I am hurt,” He said in a cartoon voice, clutching his chest.  

It was funny- almost. 

San hummed, like always, and he leaned his head back against the couch, his hair flipping off his forehead.  

“I feel really light.” 

“You do?” Wooyoung felt his chest tighten, and panic began to flutter in the forms of butterflies in his stomach. 


They were silent for a moment, and San looked over at him with determination and serious look that Wooyoung had not seen in a while. 

“When I leave, can you please just get with Yeosang already? The pining is killing me.” 

Wooyoung blushed and he felt himself ready to deny the “pining” but his phone rang with a familiar ring tone. 

San smiled at him, “Answer it, idiot.” 









“God, the guy was fucking terrible.” Yeosang whined, throwing himself on the couch dramatically. He drooped himself over Wooyoung’s lap and he pulled the drawstring of his hoodie tight against his face. 

“He like- kept telling me all about his drone. I don’t even care for drones.” 

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, “So you dropped him because he talked about a passion of his?” 

San had the decency to look embarrassed and he shrugged, “He talked about it a lot. Plus, I am just picky in general. Remember when we were kids?” 

Wooyoung scoffed and he let his hand rest on Yeosang’s knee, fiddling with the strings of the rip in his jeans. “Yeah, how could I forget you being a brat? You told every person that liked you to ‘give it up’, quite harshly, may I add.” 

Yeosang sat up halfway, letting his back rest against the arm rest of the couch and he stuck his finger in the air, “He was also a bad kisser.” 

“I am a good kisser.” 

And Wooyoung really doesn’t know why he said that- at all.  

Yeosang narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “No need to brag.” 

Wooyoung shrugged his shoulders and he raised his eyebrows, “Not bragging. Just stating a fact. I’ve got a wicked mouth.” 

Yeosang frowned, a blush riding up his cheeks and he shifted his legs in Wooyoung’s lap, spreading his legs a bit more. 

“First of all, any guy who says that they have a ‘wicked mouth’ probably sucks at kissing, and second, I am not saying I was the bad kisser. I am a good kisser too.”  


“You weren’t saying false when we kissed in eighth grade.” 

And oh yeah, they have kissed before. Wooyoung didn’t know why he suddenly grew embarrassed, his blush blooming on the apples of his checks. The tension felt thick.  

“I was hoping you would forget about that,” Wooyoung said, suddenly feeling the need to draw his hoodie tight like Yeosang’s. 

“Why? It wasn’t a bad thing, was it? It was both of ours first kiss,” He said sitting up from his position on the couch, a smirk crawling on his lips. 

“You tasted like candy.” 

“You did too.” 

Wooyoung couldn’t help but let his eyes fall to Yeosang’s rosy lips, their shade a stark contrast against the tan of his skin. His lips were red and bitten, a bad habit that Yeosang always had. 

Yeosang’s eyes followed Wooyoung’s lips and he swallowed nervously, he could see Yeosang’s fingers tighten on his thigh, and he exhaled a shaky breath that could rattle the chains of a swing on a playground. Wooyoung felt his heart speed up. 

“What would you taste like now?” Wooyoung asked in the silence, his voice sounding loud compared to the hush around them. 

“Candy, again. I just had a cotton candy sucker.” Yeosang fiddled with his other knee, Wooyoung’s hand still on the other one.  

“What would  you  taste like?” 

“Candy- I just ate the Jolly Rancher you left here.” 

Yeosang made an “Ah,” sound and he nodded, ”That’s nice.” 

That’s nice. You’re such a charmer, Yeosang.  

Wooyoung was hyper aware of his hand resting on Yeosang’s leg now and swore he could feel heat emitting from the material of his skinny jeans- it was burning, burning a bright flame of white hot golds and reds. 

“Have you wanted to kiss me since then?” Yeosang said next, shocking them both, from the look of horror on Yeosang’s face. 

Panic rose in Yeosang’s face and he started to ramble, “Wait- that came off really creepy and wrong and I really shouldn’t have said that because that was out of pocket and I think that you deserve better than me just busti-” 

“Yeah, a couple times this week.” 

There was a pregnant pause, both of them basking in Wooyoung’s words, comprehending the weight of them.  

“Oh.” Yeosang said slowly, tilting his head down, and then sheepishly meeting Wooyoung’s eyes. ”Me too.” 



“How long have you wanted to kiss me, Yeosang?” Wooyoung asked, leaning his body towards Yeosang, their noses dangerously close and their bodies drooped over each other- they were crossing into a dangerous zone. Wooyoung didn’t even realize they were beginning to lean in towards each other, he was shocked when he realized how close their faces were. 

“A lot though middle school, a ton through high school, a bit through college, and... a lot this past month. A ton, actually.” 

Yeosang stuttered, “But- not when you were dating people. I had respect for you and other people, I am not a shithead.” 

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, “I know, Yeosang. I have always thought you were too good for this world.”  

Yeosang sighed, “I am glad one of us thinks that then-” He licked his lips, “I have felt awful like an awful human being this week.” 


“Because I really like my best friend and I knew we were just friends. It has always been that way.” 

Yeosang was right in a way- Wooyoung wasn’t blind, he did know that Yeosang was ridiculously attractive and that people on the street always stared a tad too long at Yeosang, but he never really had feelings for him. Throughout their life they had always been best friends, and nothing more than that. While they might have kissed when they were younger, it didn’t really mean much. To them both it was just a kiss to say that they both have had their first smooch. It wasn’t ever really a big deal in their friendship. It wasn’t ever a kiss with  feelings

Wooyoung really wasn’t sure when these feelings came in during the past month or so- he wasn’t sure at all. It was like he suddenly  noticed  Yeosang- although he had been there all along. 

“It doesn’t have to be.” 

Yeosang gulped, “No, I suppose not.” 

Their noses were touching now, Yeosang was looking up at him through his eyelashes and wow, Wooyoung wouldn’t mind seeing that look at him from down on his knees. 

“What would you do if we kissed right now?” 

Yeosang giggled, “Can we please be serious for once?” 

Wooyoung’s eyes fluttered shut when Yeosang’s soft mouth met his- and it was wonderful. Yeosang’s lips were like gentle butterflies that flitted around his lips and his tilt of his head was like the tilt of the Earth. Gravity, no more. 

Wooyoung could feel the kiss become more intense and he panted into Yeosang’s mouth when Yeosang shifted himself onto Wooyoung’s lap, his legs on either side of him.  

Oh .” Wooyoung said with a gasp as Yeosang bit his lip, using his tongue to soothe over it at once.  

God, he really, really, really liked kissing Yeosang.  

The only sounds that could be heard was the intense breathing of the two and the slide of their wet lips that hurried against each other. Wooyoung may have been a sap, but it felt right. It felt like it was meant to be and that the Universe had been waiting a long time for this.  

Wooyoung was embarrassed that he was hard that quickly and he tried to shuffle Yeosang’s ass away from his dick, but Yeosang noticed instantly. 


“A bit?” 

Wooyoung swooped back up to kiss him, and Yeosang sighed and giggled into his mouth, his smile radiating- blinding. 

“It’s okay, I am too.”  

Yeosang gently grabbed Wooyoung’s hand that was resting on his hips and he trailed it down his stomach and down to the crotch of his pants, “Feel that?” 

“I most definitely do.” Wooyoung replied, his face aflame. He was blushing like a virgin, when he was clearly not.  

Yeosang gasped into their kiss when Wooyoung’s knuckles brushed the sensitive area, his fingers gliding over the buldge.  

“Did you know,” Yeosang said in gasps of air as Wooyoung trailed kisses down his neck, letting his lips and tongue leave a wet trail behind, “That I used to get off thinking about this?” 

“God,  Yeosang -” 

“And I would think about you- I never cared what you did in the dream. I was so embarrassed that all I had to think about was you and that would be enough to make me come.” 

That sentence alone could be enough to make Wooyoung come.  

Yeosang’s breath hitched when Wooyoung’s thumb traced over the head his cock, but Wooyoung had blindly been doing all of this so he was in a shock when he looked down- Yeosang was wearing the anime girl underwear. 

“Oh my fucking go-” Yeosang shut Wooyoung up with a rough kiss, his mouth sucking in Wooyoung’s bottom lip, a wet sound filling the room.  

“How was I supposed to know that anything was going to happen tonight?” 

Their laughs mixed in the kiss and Wooyoung let his hand speed over Wooyoung’s dick, the precum dripping over the flushed head and down to the base where his hand resided.  

“Stop-” Yeosang said resting his hand over Wooyoung’s, “I am going to come and I don’t want to just yet. Let me suck you off.” 

“Yeah,” Wooyoung breathed, shifting in his seat, “Okay.” 

Yeosang’s body slid down off of his thighs and onto his knees, his doe eyes shining with charm and something else. They were intense.  

Wooyoung hissed as Yeosang unzipped his jeans and dragged them down to his thick thighs, his cock leaking against his stomach. Sang’s hands took a detour and they pushed up Wooyoung’s hoodie to expose his nipples. The blunt end of Yeosang’s nail flicked against them and Wooyoung felt a whimper rise in his throat and his body twitch at the glorious feeling that Yeosang just pulled from him.  

“Oh, they’re sensitive?” 

“Obviously.” Retorted Wooyoung, another hiss escaping between his teeth when Yeosang’s tongue glided over the bud and his finger kept a steady rhythm over the other.  

“Of course they’re sensitive,” mused Yeosang, with a small smile, “That’s so sweet.” 

“Sweet?” Wooyoung panted, confusion lacing in his voice like knitted blanket, “My nipples being sensitive is sweet?” 

Yeosang hummed as he let his lips ghost over his cock, his tongue darting out every once in a while to lick at the crown. “Of course. The noises you make are really endearing, too.” 

That stirred a hot feeling in the pit of Wooyoung’s stomach and his cheeks flushed, his cock twitching with the words Yeosang spoke.  

“And apparently you like being called sweet.” Yeosang said with a laugh. He let his head rest on the top of Wooyoung’s upper thigh and his mouth sucked around the length of Wooyoung’s cock. His hair tickled Wooyoung’s hipbones.  

“Yeosang,” he moaned, letting his head fall back against the couch, ”You’re so good to me, baby.” 

That only seemed to encourage him as he took all of Wooyoung into his mouth like a champ, his eyes watering at the intake.  

Wooyoung thought Yeosang looked really good with his mouth full of cock. 

His hands twisted around the base and his eyes fluttered open to meet Wooyoung’s, he knew exactly what he was doing.  

A wicked mouth. 

Wooyoung felt like he came in record time, his stomach heaving and his nipples sore from the way he was twisting them. Saliva and cum was dripping down Yeosang’s chin and his mouth was puffy- his lips a lovely shade of red. 

“This is so much better than what I imagined” Yeosang said, licking his fingers and using his thumb to wipe the come off his lips. Wooyoung’s thumb helped him wipe and Yeosang eagerly licked it off, his tongue in slow motion (or that was what it looked like to Wooyoung).  

After that, they never really seemed to stop fooling around. 

Wooyoung wasn’t sure how he ended up with Yeosang’s fingers in his ass, nor did he know how he ended up with his dick too. Yeosang was really good at fucking him. 

He knew that he was putting it simply- but simply, Yeosang knew all the right spots. He knew exactly how to make Wooyoung’s moans pitch higher, he knew exactly how to pound him into the couches cushion, and he knew what to do with his fingers that twisted rapidly in his hole. 

Yeosang never went wrong, his cock was a godsend that made him drool. 

Wooyoung panted as Yeosang fucked him over the couch cushions for the sixth time this month, not that he had been counting or anything, and his legs shook with every thrust.  

“You take it so well, baby.” 

“Don’t be a brat and mock me,” Whined Wooyoung, his ass clenching around Yeosang’s dick. He felt Yeosang suck in a sharp breath, and he let himself feel triumphant for a moment.  

“Baby, baby,  baby boy -” cooed Yeosang into the shell of his ear and Wooyoung blushed so hard he thought his face was going to be aflame.  

“I-” Yeosang’s hips slammed against his ass and then he dragged his cock out slowly, letting Wooyoung relish in the feeling, “-hate you.” he breathed.  

Yeosang tutted, his tongue clicking on the roof of his mouth. “You don’t hate me, but it’s okay.” 

Wooyoung pushed his hips back to meet Yeosang’s and his back arched to pull him in deeper. He felt Yeosang’s hips stutter- good. 









San still hung around Wooyoung, but this last month, he hadn’t been seen for a couple of days. 

Wooyoung felt his stomach roll around with anxiety and he nervously chewed on his nails, biting them down to the flesh. It was Thursday and he hadn’t been seen since Sunday. 

“San?” he tried into the empty silence of his apartment, Yeosang being gone in lecture at the moment. 

He paced around the hallway and peeked into closets, showers, and underneath beds. San wasn’t anywhere to be seen and Wooyoung needed him right now. He really did. 

Wooyoung needed to see him for-for.... for .... and oh.  

He didn’t need to see him for anything but for the fact that he missed San.  


Didn’t every person that had lost a loved one wish to see the person they missed the most? 

Sometimes Wooyoung wondered if San was ever real at all, or if he was just something that had conjured in his mind to cope with the loss of his boyfriend. Wooyoung liked to wonder that a lot for the first few months, but after a while he just ignored the thought and kept on with his daily life with San.  

Wooyoung leaned his back against the wall in his room, and he slid down by the chair that San always sat in when he greeted him in the mornings with a, “Did you miss me?” 

“San?” he tried again, already knowing what was going to be next. 

He was met with silence. 

Wooyoung felt himself begin to cry, but his face remained stony, and still. He felt like a statue, and he looked like he had just seen a ghost. One that wasn’t his ex boyfriend. 

Wooyoung let himself reach out, the fingers of his mind searching for something to hold onto- but it was met with the void of nothing. The void of absence. San was really gone. 

There wasn’t a flash of bright light, there wasn’t an angelic being that grabbed San’s hand and led him away. He was just  gone.   

The sobs hit Wooyoung like a train, he allowed himself to mourn over San, the way he was supposed to do in the beginning. He let the riptide of thunder roll over him, he let the stormy presence of San’s eyes burn into his soul, and he let himself move on.  

San wasn’t ever going to come back- he was dead. 

Loss was something foreign to Wooyoung, but he embraced it now. He embraced everything that fucking sucked about death and he took it all in with every inch and being of his body.  

San. San. San.  

Wooyoung knew that San had truly moved on because of this; He wasn’t crying over San being dead, he was crying over San not being a part of his life. The love of his life wasn’t dead, he was absent. Wooyoung had moved on from San- as he had Yeosang, another soulmate that was destined for him. A soulmate that wasn’t just yet ready for him. He had to spend his time with San, a boy who had a limited time- he too, needed a soulmate.  

Wooyoung was San’s love, and now he was gone. Wooyoung had done his duty for San, and San had done his duty for Wooyoung.  

They were destined for each other, but only for as long as San was alive.  

Wooyoung hugged his knees and he took many deep breaths, allowing himself to think. 

He knew that he had to get up and continue his day, he had to do it for San.  

San would be proud of him right now. 









San was like the rain that twirled down the windows of a car, he was the breath of sea air that rejuvenated the young, and he was the laugh that echoed through the riptides of thunder. He was some sort of being that swam around  Wooyoung’s  existence in the form of a beautiful boy with a pretty smile and messy hair.  

Yeosang was like the sun that lit up the windows of a car, he was the breath of spring air that filled the lungs of roses, and he was the laugh that flitted with the swooping grace of butterfly wings. He was some sort of bird that flew around Wooyoung’s existence in the form of a beautiful boy that was once a best friend that whispered secrets into the sunny sky. 

Yeosang’s laugh was loud beside him, his feet kicked up in joy.  

“Look at this cat video. Look. At. It.” he said, awe saturating his words. He showed the screen to Wooyoung- the cat was on a skateboard.  

“That is riveting, Yeosang.” 

“Honestly,” he replied, not catching the sarcasm in his voice.  

“Hey can you go grab the charger from the bedroom? My phone is about to die.” Yeosang pouted from his shoulder, his eyes wide. And how could Wooyoung resist a face like that? 

He gave a dramatic sigh and he pushed his textbook away from him, “Of course.” 

Yeosang shot him a smile and hugged him tightly, “You’re the best.” 

“And you’re taking advantage of my kindness.” 

“Wooyoung, I am on three percent.” 

He rolled his eyes and dragged his feet to the bedroom, making a show of his pouting. 

“You’re so embarrassing!” Yeosang shouted from the other side of the room. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Wooyoung said in reply, searching the sheets of the bed. Odd.  

“Are you sure it’s in the bedroom?” Wooyoung called, frowning as he checked every outlet in the room. 

“Positive.” he heard Yeosang said faintly from another room.  

Wooyoung huffed and he reached to the top shelf of the closet just to grab the spare charger and call it a day. He didn’t feel like looking for it anymore. 

Wooyoung’s fingers brushed a piece of something soft on the wooden shelf, his fingers pausing. He reached further, pulling the soft thing towards him- which he realized was a tiny slip of paper. It flitted down lazily to the floor and Wooyoung could do nothing but stare.  

It was San’s handwriting. 



There’s always been a rainbow hanging over your head.  


Love, San  



Wooyoung felt his heart speed up, his fingers numb. He slowly reached down to pick it up, his hands shaky. The note wasn’t there last week, he had just cleaned his closet out last week. This was new.  

San always said that he saw the world in a plethora of colors, in a sense, a rainbow. “If you could see what I see,  Wooyoung , you would be blinded by the colors.”  


This was San’s farewell note, a bid of goodbye. Yeosang peeked into the room with a smile, but his face falling quickly at the sight of Wooyoung. 

“You look like you have seen a ghost.” 

Wooyoung felt an urge to laugh. 

“I found a note from San.” he finally said, handing the paper over to Yeosang.  

He watched as Yeosang read over it, his eyes flitting back and forth. “What does it mean?” 

“That he is watching over me.” Wooyoung said, allowing himself to smile- his heart felt warm, almost fuzzy. 

Yeosang smiled at the expression Wooyoung was wearing, and he walked forward to hug him.  

“I am incredibly proud of you, Wooyoung. You are so brave.” 

Wooyoung hugged Yeosang tightly, his eyes squeezing shut and inhaling the scent of his boyfriend. 

“I think everything is going to be okay.” Wooyoung said, turning to face Yeosang.  

“It was always going to be okay, Wooyoungie. Always.” 

And yeah, Wooyoung supposes he is right.  









The rain had ceased and Yeosang sighed a breath of relief, shaking the water out of his hair. 

“God, I thought it was never going to stop raining.” He complained, looping his arm around Wooyoung’s arm.  

“I wanted that cupcake- sorry.” Wooyoung said with an embarrassed shrug of his shoulders. 

“Mhm,” Yeosang playfully hummed, ”I guess you’re forgiven, the walk was nice anyways.” Wooyoung laughed and he knocked his shoulder into Yeosang’s, and he rolled his eyes. 

Yeosang gasped and paused in the middle of the sidewalk, the sun lighting up his frame like a halo of gold.  


Wooyoung followed the trail of Yeosang’s finger- he was pointing to a rainbow. 

“Isn’t it pretty? I haven’t seen a rainbow in so long, I think we were eight, right?” 

“Right.” Said Wooyoung with an amused tone, his head tilting to look at the tiny rainbow that filled the sky with brilliant plethora of colors. Yeosasng stepped back and he whipped his phone out, the wind tugging his hair up messily. He looked like a model. 

“Pose with it, it’s hanging over your head, Wooyoung!” 

Wooyoung laughed and he posed for the picture, his eyes bright, and a mischievous smile playing on his lips.  


There’s always been a rainbow hanging over your head.  


Love, San  







Chapter Text


I know it has been some time since I have posted this story originally, but something was urging me to come back and write this. This story was written in a day, a rainy day, and a sad day for me. I feel the need to explain after all of the messages, texts, dms and comments I have got- that this is fiction. While Wooyoung had a hard time moving on, and while one could say that he imagined it all, this is fiction and if you ever feel upset, please reach out to someone.

Coping by yourself is frightening, but not always bad, I know, but I please ask that if you are ever feeling lonely after that loss, or upcoming loss, do not be afraid to reach out to Your Yeosang, or to write notes to Your San. Wooyoung had a wonderful support system for his tragedy and he had someone that he could eventually confide in.

There has always been a rainbow, and the loss of someone will forever be with you in the colors that you see. Loss doesn’t have to be physical, it can be emotional. The loss of a relationship of a parent, friend- anyone. Sometimes it may feel that it is unavoidable, and I know your heart may feel heavy with that. Time is healing, to be quite honest. Over time you will grow understandings, and grow to realize that there is something beautiful in being human. Loss isn’t a pro, but the way we continue on is something to be proud of.

We are nothing but human and I hope that this short little story gave you some peace and some hope. The story is messy in places, flawed and error filled- but isn’t everything?