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Rejection burned hot in Yeosang's veins as tears stung his eyes, but he didn’t bother stopping them this time. He let them flow, hot and wet over his cheeks, staining his pillow. He didn’t know if they were angry tears or sad tears, or a mixture of both, embarrassment, shame, humiliation, and guilt settling in his chest next to the hurt. Rejected. Rejected. Rejected. Rejected. Rejected. Rejected. Rejected. His mind raced trying to understand what he had done wrong to make them all act like this towards him. They knew how he rarely, if ever, initiated touching or hugging or cuddling or even hanging out, so now that he was practically begging them for it, for any of it, nobody wanted him? He knew, deep down, that they were all probably just as stressed as him with their comeback approaching. That they all might all be going through something too, thinking too much and worrying about if they were doing enough to prepare and succeed. But it was hard not to take it all so personally and to feel like he’d done something wrong to make them not want him anymore. --- or, Yeosang starts spiraling and it leads to a very, very, VERY big misunderstanding.

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