Chapter Text
“San, you’re drunk.” The words are shouted over the blaring speakers that sit perched in the open living room, barely registering in San’s ears as words and more so just noise . With a shake of his head (that makes the room spin more than it already is) San makes a sound he believes is convincing enough to prove that he is in fact not drunk.
Hongjoong isn’t amused when it just turns out to be San slurring his words in an undignified manor.
“Seriously? Come on.” The shorter of the two throws San’s arm over his shoulder and helps weave him through the cluster of sweaty bodies that try to chase the rhythm (and a high). “You’re lucky I found you like this and not Seonghwa; he’d have lectured your ear off, especially since you have an exam tomorrow.” The words try their best but only filter through in pieces to San’s ears, but the gist of it hits San like a truck.
“Exam… exam!” He gasps dramatically, hands covering his face in a drunken stupor as he whines in defeat. “I’m going to fail, I’m going to faiiiil.” The taller of the two leans his weight onto the smaller unconsciously, crushing the redhead who wheezes out a winded oof.
“Okay, down you go.” Huffs the smaller, not-so-gently tossing San off of his shoulder and onto what San can only assume is the host’s mattress. “For one, we need you to sober up. I am not having you sleep on me or get a hangover.”
“Joong I’m going to fail, I’m going to be kicked out of the science program I don’t understand these ridiculous substitutions--”
“Yes you do, San, I helped you cover it two days ago, and you aren't going to fail your exam, just listen to me.” The younger nods, eyes brimming with tears as he picks at his nails subconsciously. “I am going to leave to get you some crackers and water to help sober you up, okay? Don’t. Move.” Hongjoong’s voice is strict and leaves no room for discussion.
“Okay, thank you Joongie.” San wraps Hongjoong in a hug that has the older groaning in discomfort.
“Let go, Sannie, I have to go, come on.” With a whine the younger lets go and watches the redhead leave, loud music filtering through the gap when the older escapes.
That’s how San finds himself in this position: alone in some strangers bedroom, face up as he stares at the ceiling that, by some magic, won’t stop spinning.
He tries his best not to fall asleep, lest Hongjoong berate him for not listening, but it’s hard when the room is warm, the only light being the faint glow of a bedside lamp, and the music outside has slowed to some mumble rap noise that doesn’t make his heart pound with renewed anxiety.
It’s then that the door opens and San looks towards it, expecting Hongjoong but getting someone different. It’s hard to make them out in the shadow of the room, but San knows his best friend from anywhere.
“Wooyoung?” The boy in question jolts, quickly closing the door behind him.
“Sannie?” It takes a moment, but despite the darkness of the room, San can make out Wooyoung clearly now; all dark hair and circle framed glasses that don’t even have lenses, full lips and tired eyes, both accented by beauty marks that were somehow placed perfectly on his features. “What are you doing here?” His voice sounds breathy, like maybe he was running, or probably dancing too much.
“Waiting.” San replies, focusing his attention back on the ceiling. “Joong said he would come back with stuff for me, since I’m…” San looks around, then whispers, “ drunk .”
Wooyoung only hums in response, breathing still shallow as he looks around, then, “Can you give me a second? I’ll be right back.”
He doesn’t wait for San to answer, slides out of the room right after and San is, once again, left in the spinning room that is starting to make him feel nauseous. There is a loud sound outside, something like a thump or a shout, but San doesn’t really pay attention, anyway.
Wooyoung does return after a moment, hair tousled and breathing still short, sliding back into the room and locking the door behind him if the faint click was anything to go by.
“I hope you don’t mind me locking the door, I don’t want some other weirdos stumbling in here.”
"What about Joong?" Wooyoung walks towards San and flops down beside him, hand resting dangerously close to San's thigh. He decides to ignore it.
"I don't know man, last I saw he was getting tongued down by Mingi in the kitchen. No saving him now." San rolls his eyes in annoyance, the earlier anxiety bubbling in his chest.
"I can't believe him… I need to sober up so I'm not a complete idiot for my chem exam tomorrow and now I'm going to die and wake up with a hangover and fail and then die again and I can't fail this exam or else I can't drop my lowest grade and --"
"Whoa whoa whoa, Sannie, calm down, it's okay." Wooyoung’s hand is on San’s thigh fully now and he prays Wooyoung doesn’t notice how he holds his breath.
What San feels for Wooyoung? He isn’t sure what it is. He never put much thought to it because 1. Wooyoung is his best friend, 2. He doesn’t want to make things weird, and 3. Wooyoung is a heartbreaker .
Still, that isn’t enough to tell San’s pathetic little heart (and even more pathetic cock) to not lurch in interest whenever Wooyoung touches him in any way that differs from normal.
“I can’t calm down,” says San, the words squeezing their way past his lips, eyes still focused on the swirling vortex of the ceiling that seems to get closer. “I’m drunk and now I’m anxious, my heart can’t stop pounding, I think I’m going to fail, I’m going to be kicked out of the major and my scholarship is going to be revoked, and Hongjoong fucking left me here and I just want some crackers --”
“Sannie, sweetheart,” Wooyoung’s voice is slow, drawing the words out to calm San down, hand rubbing his thigh in what is supposed to be comforting but only makes San more rattled.
Sweetheart .
San swallows dryly.
“Everything will be okay, San.” Wooyoung’s head knocks against his shoulder, movement clearly uncoordinated, and San wonders just how much Wooyoung has had to drink tonight. “You’ll pass, you’ll do okay, and you will keep your scholarship, because you’re smart and talented and you do everything amazingly.”
San wonders if Wooyoung can hear the way his heart pounds to the beat of the new trap music that blares through the house. Purple and red lighting bleeds through the crack at the bottom of the door and the smell of weed filters in, clogging San’s nose and he can’t seem to focus on the warmth of the body next to him.
However, Wooyoung speaking up suddenly does remind him of the very apparent body beside him, warm and good-smelling and -- fuck, the hand is still on his thigh, it’s still on his thigh, and it’s so close to his crotch and San prays to whoever who will listen that he doesn’t get turned on from this.
Wooyoung must have turned his head to the side because his lips keep brushing against San’s neck while he talks in these slow sentences and his breath is hot against his skin and San doesn’t know what to do, heart thrumming incessantly for another reason.
“Do you feel any better?” The words are spoken into the skin of San’s neck and the taller doesn’t know how to answer, so he doesn’t. “Sannie?”
Then Wooyoung is getting up, lifting himself just enough so that he is above San, making the other turn to face him with the hand that had previously occupied his now cooling thigh.
“Are you still anxious?” San knows he should answer, but his eyes are focused a little too obviously on Wooyoung’s lips and the beauty mark on them and he thinks for a brief moment of how nice it would be to kiss them.
His heart nearly drops out of his ass.
“Yeah.” San says simply, hoping the darkness of the room hides the way he licks his dry lips. “I don’t know why.” Except he does know why, but he would rather choke than explain it. Wooyoung doesn’t really answer after that, just opts to stare at San, moonlight filtering in through the slit of the blinds that are barely covered by the thick curtain. The hand on his face returns to his thigh, dangerously high and San tries to refocus on the thrumming behind the door before Wooyoung is talking again.
“I can help you, if you want.”
Hesitant, San looks to the door, then back to his friend, his best friend, and asks, “How?”
Wooyoung doesn’t take his eyes off of San but his hand is moving, slowly inching upward and God, it burns , like every inch San is being branded and he wants to scream, or moan, or both.
“You’ve been so stressed, sweetheart.” His hand reaches higher, close to the half-hard erection that strains in San’s jeans. “I can help you.” He reiterates, clearly showing what he means when his hand rests at the juncture of thigh and crotch. “Just tell me to stop if you don’t want me to.”
San doesn’t understand how he doesn’t scream or die or laugh or anything , just watches Wooyoung with big eyes, suddenly everything becoming too much in the moment: the weird techno-pop rhythm that pumps through in waves, the laughter outside the door, the smell of weed and cheap beer, the darkness of the room, the spinning that still remains even when he closes his eyes, and most of all, Wooyoung.
Pretty, pretty Wooyoung, with his black hair that falls just right, his beauty marks that were placed perfectly, his golden skin, the warmth of his hand against his thigh, and San, once again, doesn’t know what to do.
Wooyoung is beautiful.
This has to be a dream.
Except it isn't , and he's left being caught in the tug of war of morality and sexual need.
Don’t do it, he screams internally, because he knows himself. Knows he is being greedy, knows that this would not be smart, that this is his best friend in the whole world and if something as stupid as a one night stand was enough to end that he would personally drop out of college and live life as a hermit that cries and eats their pain away, knows that one time would never be enough once he got a taste of what he has been trying to suppress ever since he met Wooyoung three years ago.
But then he focuses again, eyes on Wooyoung’s, peering at him through the faux lense of the raven’s glasses, and San wants to punch himself in the throat when he whispers a deprived “Please touch me.” and Wooyoung does and fuck , San is in it now.
The pressure created from Wooyoung’s hand rubbing San through the fabric of his stupidly tight jeans has the taller throwing his head back in a moan, hips bucking up embarrassingly as his cock reacts a little too quickly.
Okay, so maybe he did need this, he reasons with himself, stress had been building up terribly the past few months from constantly being in the lab, recitation, lecture, for three different classes, and maybe taking instrumental analysis, organic chemistry, and physics all in one semester as well as statistics was catching up to him, because he hadn’t gotten off in weeks and--
“Oh, oh, fuck, Woo,” He’s loud, he can hear himself past the rush in his ears and the music outside, and he sounds needy. Wooyoung laughs, breath fanning across San’s face and he can smell the liquor.
“You’re so cute, Sannie.” His lips find the constellations of freckles across San’s neck and kisses there, licks a fat stripe before sucking on the spot underneath San’s ear. The taller lets out another whine, brow furrowing in pleasure as Wooyoung squeezes him through the layers of clothes covering him. “Help me get this off of you, yeah?”
San has never complied so quickly.
He scrambles, sitting up with shaky hands reaching for the fly of his jeans, head swimming as he tries to remember how to remove the article of clothing.
It comes to him eventually and he is wriggling out of his jeans, cock slapping against his stomach once he takes them off and Wooyoung practically purrs .
“It’s unfair, San.” He repositions himself to sit on San’s lap, removing his glasses and tossing them God-knows-where as he grips loosely at San’s cock that already leaks. “I knew you were pretty in the face, but to have a perfect body too? Save some for the rest of us.” and then he’s stroking, eyes dark as he watches San who covers his face almost shyly, skin burning hot in the cold night air.
“Feels good,” is all he whimpers in return, cock already messy in Wooyoung’s grip, and when the other smiles, all teeth and pretty eyelashes, San wonders what it would be like to kiss Wooyoung.
Wonders what it would feel like to have Wooyoung kiss him while he fucks San hard and rough against some random strangers bed at whatever-the-fuck in the morning.
What it would feel like to have Wooyoung kiss him over and over while he made San cum all over himself and the sheets.
San can feel a fat bead of precum drip from his drooling cock, heart stuttering in his chest.
He decides to lock that thought away forever.
Kissing Wooyoung would be… too much.
Too intimate.
Too real.
Because this wasn’t real, right?
This was a one-time thing. A fling.
Nothing more.
San has to remember that.
So instead he takes what he can get, biting his lip when Wooyoung squeezes the head of his cock with a playful grin.
“You’re so cute Sannie, so cute for me,” says Wooyoung, shuffling a bit, antsy. “Can I? Can I?”
“Can you what?” San asks between ragged breaths, eyes straining to focus on Wooyoung.
“My dick-- can I?” Wooyoung repeats the word, accompanying his request with a jerking off motion, and San can put two and two together.
“Fuck, yeah, yes,” He knows he sounds desperate but this is probably the only chance he will ever get to seeing Wooyoung’s cock and his hips jerk at the thought.
Wooyoung lets go of San, fumbling with his fly messily until his pants are pushed down to his thighs and his cock is hanging for San to see and God . San licks his lips again, cheeks burning from arousal as he stares blatantly, eyes eating up whatever he can make out in the darkness and dim lighting; the thickness of Wooyoung’s thighs, his thick cock, the glistening wet head, and then--
“Fuck, Wooyoung, oh fuck ,” Wooyoung has both of them in his hand now, his cock rubbing messily against San’s and Jesus Christ San doesn’t know how he is going to survive after this. “It feels good, it feels so good, Woo, fuck, oh my God.”
Wooyoung makes a sound in his throat that sounds like a growl and San trembles, thighs on either side of Wooyoung tightening.
“You sound so fucking hot sweetheart,” comes the labored reply as Wooyoung grabs at San with his free hand; squeezes his thigh, his ass, the meat of his chest, and all San can do is whimper, thrusting weakly into the tight ring of Wooyoung’s hand as he desperately chases his orgasm that pools hotly in the pit of his stomach.
“Do you always sound like this, Sannie? So desperate when you want to cum?” San nods, breathing hotly into the open air as he closes his eyes, the ceiling spinning for a different reason. “So cute, you’re so cute, I wish you could look at yourself.” He’s squeezing their cocks together and San wails out a pathetic sound, gripping the sheets under him so hard he can feel his nails rip through.
“Cum, I want to cum Wooyoungie,” San whines, his jerking messily and spilling precum all over Wooyoung’s already sloppy hand. “I want to, please--”
“Hold on, hold on,” There is a kiss on San’s neck and another on his chest and then Wooyoung is letting him go, causing him to sob quietly in the room.
“Wooyoungie, don’t be mean I just want to cum--”
“You’re going to, baby, come on, look at me.” and San does, looks down at his best friend who rests between his legs, lips dangerously close to the head of San's cock as he wraps his hand around him again and shit.
"Woo-- Wooyoungie, what are you?" The shorter cuts him off with a kiss to his cock, causing San to whimper, cock aching with need.
"Baby? San, baby, look at me. Cum in my mouth."
San can feel the air punch out of his lungs.
Wooyoung is going to kill him .
He obeys anyway , deciding that if he's actually going to die tonight that he should at least die with the obscure view of Wooyoung with his load in his mouth that wasn't fabricated from some hellish wet dream.
"I'm so close, I'm so close, Woo--" says San, breathing erratic as he feels the burn deep in his stomach, building and building, and it's when Wooyoung thumbs at his slit and sticks his tongue out obscenely that everything bursts.
San cums with a loud sob, shutting his eyes as his orgasm wracks his entire body in waves, his thighs clamping around Wooyoung's face and his body burns , sweat sliding down his temple and mingling with the tears that spilled at some point.
Wooyoung makes a sound that makes San look at him again, and San wishes he kept his eyes closed.
Wooyoung's mouth is wide open, cum sliding off of his tongue in fat drops as he strokes San through it, eyes watching San's every movement as every thick rope of cum paints his features, making the taller hold his breath.
There is cum everywhere ; Wooyoung's tongue, his lips, his cheek, and San is still cumming, pathetic dribbles of cum spurting out of his cock and marking Wooyoung's skin in pearly white ropes and fuck, fuck, Wooyoung is spitting the cum into his hand and --
"Fucking hell, San, San,--" and then Wooyoung is cumming hard onto the sheets, breathing ragged as he fucks into his hand that he spit San's cum into, the sound wet and squelching in San's ears, and all San can think about is how much he wants to taste--
And just like that reality crashes into San, heart and brain racing a mile a minute to the beat of the trash music that filters in once more as he finally exhales, watching as Wooyoung sits up, using this randoms strangers sheets to wipe the cum off of his face, humid air settling between them while San wonders how the fuck he is supposed to look at Wooyoung normally after this, and oh my God , he still has his chemistry exam tomorrow and --
"Do you feel better?" Wooyoung asks nonchalantly, as if he gave San a Xanax and not the best handjob he had ever received in his life in some stranger's bedroom at ass-o'clock at night. He's watching San, eyes dark in the shade of the room, lips still shiny with slick.
San thinks for a second, considers the pleasure that still tingles in his bones, and nods.
He shouldn't overthink it, right? This was a one time thing, and, and--
And Wooyoung is smiling at him, pretty and bright and maybe San's heart skips.
"That's good, then. Come on, tuck yourself into your pants; you don't want to walk outside with your dick hanging out--"
"San!" The two nearly jump out of their skin at the voice at the other end of the door. "San are you still in there?" The person begins to knock loudly and San fumbles to conceal himself.
"Hongjoong?" Asks San, cheeks red as he zips up his pants, sparing a glance Wooyoung who does the same.
"Yeah, San! It's me! Can you open the door?" San looks at Wooyoung who gestures at the cum on the sheets wildly.
"Oh yeah, sure, just one second!" He yells, grabbing at the sheets with Wooyoung, pulling them off the mattress and throwing them in the closet in a blur. Wooyoung follows San to the door and they look at each other, the space loud with words left unsaid, and Wooyoung smiles at him again, eyes sparkling in the moonlight.
"Hey, our little secret, yeah?" He asks, holding out his pinkie and San smiles back, interlocking fingers with Wooyoung.
That's how it always was with Wooyoung.
Easy.
Chill.
Normal.
"Our little secret." With that Wooyoung laughs and kisses the spot right under San's ear before whispering, "Be careful, San. You don't want Joong to see that hickey on your neck."
Then he's leaving, hiding himself in the closet with the cum stained sheets and leaving San with red cheeks to answer the door to a flustered Hongjoong.
"Oh my God San, I am so sorry!" Hongjoong blubbers but San doesn't focus anymore, listens absently to Hongjoong's reasoning, snacking on the crackers the redhead provides him, constantly eyeing the closet.
A one-time thing.
That's all it was.
--------
So maybe San was worried over nothing, because, in his drunken stupor, he forgot that he sits right next to Jongho and Soobin, who, can't cover their exams or scantron for the life of them, and even though San has a different version, he can put two and two together enough to get by.
He prays that they had actually studied, since he ended up answering section C solely based off of Jongho's section A, and thank God Soobin didn't erase his calculator history because San could see all of his work when he asked to borrow it 'for a quick second'.
Was this San's proudest moment? No; but he needs to drop his previous 55% and he isn't above cheating. Besides , he did try to answer on his own, but it was hard when every other minute he blanked out and thought about Wooyoung with cum on his tongue and felt parched to the point of chugging his water so hard that it crinkled loudly in the silence of his lecture hall.
Alas, he gets up after forty-five minutes and hands his exam in, hands sweaty and, despite his expertise in cheating, hopes they don’t call him out in front of the ninety-five students who still attend this course.
With a nod the professor takes his exam and continues to type away and San rushes out, sighing in relief.
“Did better than you thought, I’m guessing?” San jumps at the voice, turning to see Wooyoung grinning at him.
“What are you doing here?” San answers with a question, trying to ignore the heat that creeps up on his neck. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Wooyoung to visit San after class, they’ve done it tons of times since they became friends, it’s just Wooyoung never waited outside on San’s exam days.
“What, I can’t visit my best friend after his exam?” There is a teasing lilt to Wooyoung’s voice that San decides to also ignore. “I got to college early and decided to surprise you. Here.” Wooyoung hands over a bag and an iced coffee that has San’s eyes sparkling.
“You’re the best, Woo.” Says San, hugging the shorter briefly. “Hold it for a sec, let’s go to an empty classroom so we can talk.”
It’s when San is half-way through his bacon-egg-and-cheese that Wooyoung grins at him.
“What?”
“You totally cheated off of Soobin and Jongho, didn’t you.” San swallows prematurely and damn near chokes on his food.
Wooyoung laughs shrilly beside him.
“Is it that obvious that I did?” San wheezes out between coughs, sipping desperately at his drink. Wooyoung pats his back briefly before shrugging.
“How should I know? I wasn’t in the classroom, I just figured.” He grins again. “Also, you’re a terrible liar. What if I was your professor? Would you act the same way?” San shakes his head as Wooyoung continues to laugh.
“I mean, yeah, I did cheat, but I at least made it look like my own work. I’m stupid, not dumb.” Wooyoung rolls his eyes playfully. “Just don’t tell Seonghwa, okay? He will kick my ass if he finds out.”
“I don’t see why you’re so scared of him, Sannie.” Wooyoung reaches over and takes a bite of San’s food (which San whines about). “I’m pretty sure Mr. Perfect has had to cheat a few times in this major -- besides, he’s your senior, not your teacher.”
“He might as well be, Woo. He has helped me so much for this stupid exam just for me to cheat on it, and he doesn’t cheat, like, ever , because he’s some sort of super cyborg who actually understands what he studies and gets amazing grades and the professors love him and yet he still has time for a relationship and a job and student council.” San whines again, takes a bite of his sandwich to sate his nerves. “I just don’t understand how he was born perfectly -- he even takes summer and winter courses and he’s almost done with this major. He squeezed an almost 6 or 7 year major into four years. What the hell .”
“Okay, okay, you’re right, Seonghwa is basically God at this point.” Wooyoung laughs, digging into his bag to pull out some snacks. “But don’t compare yourself to him too much. Yeosang talks to me about him sometimes too. He can be a real hot head sometimes when he’s too stressed.”
“Really? He’s always so calm. How does Yeosang deal with it?” Wooyoung pulls open his bag of jalapeno chips and grins.
“Apparently sex--”
“Nevermind!” San exclaims, shoving the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and trying not to look at Wooyoung who laughs, mouth wide open because Wooyoung never laughs with his mouth closed. He wrestles the bag from Wooyoung’s grip and grins as the younger pouts and pinches his leg. “That sounds horrible.”
“Not the way Yeosang puts it--”
“Wooyoung, please ,” San begs, not wanting to hear anymore. The younger yields, hands up against his chest.
“Fine, fine, I’ll spare you the details.” Says Wooyoung, grabbing for his other bag to eat the unsalted chips in there. "Anyway, we have like, three hours left until your next class and it’s like, nine in the morning. You want to just watch stuff on youtube or something?”
When San agrees to it, he doesn’t expect Wooyoung to cuddle up on him, but he does. San isn’t sure why he doesn’t expect it, they do this all the time , but Wooyoung is on his chest and choosing what video is played and his hair smells really good and --
“Are you watching, San? Something really funny just happened.”
“Huh?” San looks down at Wooyoung, who has a cheek squished against his chest and whose big brown eyes are a little too endearing in the darkness of the classroom, and tears his gaze away to look at the screen to see someone auditioning horribly on a talent show. “Oh, I was spacing out.”
I was thinking about you was harder to say so San keeps his mouth shut, hoping that Wooyoung doesn’t hear the quick beating in his chest.
“What about? Your exam?” Wooyoung asks, face turned towards the screen again to watch someone butcher I Will Always Love You . “I don’t get why they always choose this song; just because you choose it doesn’t mean you can sing well.” He is mostly talking to himself but San laughs anyway.
“Yeah, I guess.” San knows his answer is vague but Wooyoung doesn’t seem to mind, just wraps his arms around San’s waist and hums, cuddling closer in this ridiculously uncomfortable seating format that is only worth it because Wooyoung is warm and soft and it’s nine in the morning.
“You’ll be fine, Sannie. Don’t overthink it, yeah?”
“Okay.” Says San and that was it.
They lie there in their awkward position that somehow makes sense, watching Top 10 Auditions That Shock Judges! until it hits 10:40 am and San’s phone is buzzing across the table.
“Who is it?” Wooyoung asks but doesn’t bother to look up, instead presses his cheek harder onto San’s chest.
“Jongho; he’s wondering where we are--” San answers as he types their location to the younger. “-- He should be coming soon.”
“Did he take all that time in the exam?” Wooyoung laughs, mischievous fingers wringing San’s impeccably cinched waist. “You should be more like him, you don’t always have to finish first.”
There is an underlying teasing in Wooyoung’s voice that San absolutely refuses to acknowledge (even though his cheeks burn bright red).
San opens his mouth to respond when the door is opened, Jongho entering the class room with tired eyes and a bag of food, Yeosang following close behind him with a box of donuts.
“Hello, I’m here,” Yeosang drawls, disposition cheery despite his evident eye bags.
In a heartbeat Wooyoung is detaching himself from San and clinging onto the brunette, pushing the box of sweets in San’s direction as he talks loudly in Yeosang’s ear.
San doesn’t have enough time to think about how that makes him feel before Jongho is sitting next to him, chicken sandwich in one hand, phone in the other.
“That exam was the fucking worst.” The younger sighs, taking a bite of his food before mourning, “I think I got everything wrong.”
Wooyoung’s laugh is shrill in San’s ears.
-------------------
It’s when San is ready to go home that Wooyoung gets weird.
Granted, Wooyoung is always weird. He’s clingy when he wants to be, detached when he receives any of the same attention back. He’s touchy and picky, and even though San has known Wooyoung enough to be called his best friend, San is still unsure of when it is the best time to be clingy with him.
So it catches San by surprise when Wooyoung clings onto him and whines for San to stay over his dorm.
“How come?” San laughs as he packs his belongings, neatly filing his chemistry packets and lab procedure that he decided to write ahead of time. “It isn’t a weekend, Woo.”
“I know,” answers the younger, cheek pressed against the ridge of San’s spine, arms wrapped around his front. “I still want you to sleep over, though. I even have some of your clothes over, anyway. Plus you have lab in the morning, so it’ll be easier going from my dorm than from your house.”
San knows that Wooyoung doesn’t like to beg and that this is the closest he will ever get, but he still grins to himself while he zips up his bag.
“Hmm, I’m not sure, Woo. What if something happens and I die in your dorm and I miss my lab? I need to find an unknown tomorrow; I can't miss that.”
“The possibility of death is on the table and you focus on not being able to complete your stupid lab instead of your grieving mother?” He can feel the vibrations of Wooyoung’s laugh shimmy down his spine and wonders why his mouth suddenly tastes sweet. "Come on just sleep over. It'll be fun?"
San is nudging Wooyoung off so that he can put on his bookbag when he answers.
"Yeah, okay, sure. Let me just call my mom and tell her." Wooyoung claps a bit too loudly for the small classroom, his smile displaying all of his teeth.
"Great! Let's buy food on the way there!"
"Is Yunho here today?" San asks questioningly, helping Wooyoung open the door to the apartment complex. The shorter rolls his eyes and makes a dismissive sound.
"Don't even worry about him; he's an idiot and left his posterboard due until the last minute so he and Mingi are overnighting it." He tilts his head so that San follows him into the elevator, pressing the number for his floor. "It's going to be terrible, but he needs the extra credit."
"What class is this again?" Inquires the taller, following Wooyoung to his dorm room once the elevator drops them off.
"I don't know -- Africana Studies? I think?" Wooyoung presses his weight against the door and stumbles in, squeaking in shock as San laughs. "Of all the times for this door to cooperate with me." He grumbles under his breath, annoyed.
"Maybe it doesn't like being slammed into all of the time." Chirps the older as he squeezes past Wooyoung with a silly grin. "Anyway let's eat, I haven't had anything since Yeosang fed me."
"Hey, I fed you too, or did you forget that?" The words carry no bite to them as they sit at the small table.
San hums in thought but doesn’t continue more than that, grinning while he opens his dinner. “Anyway, what does Yunho major in again? I haven’t spoken to him in so long that I forgot; we should seriously all hang out again.”
Wooyoung hums in agreement, digging the utensils out of his bag and removing the lid from his food. “He’s a journalism major; parents want him to become a news anchor or something.”
San doesn’t expect to feel sympathy but he does.
He bites into his chicken.
“I mean, I feel like he would be a great one, since he is so charismatic and everything; the guy has more energy than even I can handle sometimes.” Wooyoung laughs. “But I can also tell he gets a bit jealous sometimes, since I’m a dance major and he isn’t.” It isn’t said to brag, San notes, because Wooyoung looks more crestfallen than he does brazen.
San feels his heart twist in a weird way.
“Anyway, forget all that nonsense; we are all going to hopefully graduate next year and it’s going to be great anyway because we won’t have to pay for these ridiculous classes anymore.” He digs into his chicken over rice and spoons it into his mouth (but that doesn’t stop him from talking). “Like, I know I can dance, I’m a dance major, why do they have me taking calculus? For why? In what way will that ever benefit me? Why do I need a piece of paper to say ‘ Congrats! Jung Wooyoung Can Officially Dance!’ ?”
San laughs loudly and Wooyoung nudges him, laughing just as loud, if not louder despite the late time.
This is what San likes about Wooyoung.
Everything is easy with him.
Eating, laughing, picking fun; it was all easy .
So San uses that, uses the excuse that being easy was the reason why his heart thumps so loudly in his chest when Wooyoung laughs or smiles with all of his teeth and nudges him with his big hand.
Because it’s easy to feel that way.
It’s easy to feel that way with Wooyoung.
With his friend.
His best friend.
San suddenly doesn’t feel hungry.
The taller begins to repackage his food, noticing the barely there dent in it, and apparently so does Wooyoung.
“Hey, you okay?” Wooyoung asks around the spoon in his mouth, eyeing San weirdly. “You were really hungry; did it taste bad?”
“No! It tasted fine,” He laughs sheepishly. “I just, I really want to shower first, I realized. I feel gross.” The other eyes him suspiciously, then stands up.
“Alright, I’ll go get your clothes, just don’t use Yunho’s stuff; he’s really finicky about his body wash and soaps and whatever.”
San agrees, takes the clothes presented to him, locks the door.
The spray of lukewarm water hits his skin and San slumps back with a sigh.
When San finishes and leaves, doing his best to calm himself down and not be weird around Wooyoung (despite thinking of last night's endeavours and flaring up again with new found arousal), he deems himself normal enough after he finishes washing his hair.
Everything goes accordingly; dries himself and then his hair (as much as he can with a cheap little towel), uses Wooyoung’s surprisingly nice moisturizer to keep his face soft, and huffs a quick sigh.
This is nothing different than the millions of times San has slept over.
Everything will be fine! He assures himself. It was a one time thing and you were lucky enough to even get that chance with Wooyoung. He tries to reason, nods to himself earnestly, even though his chest twists in discomfort. Don’t be too greedy, he was just trying to help you out last night; take what you can get. San realizes that talking to himself isn’t going as well as he hoped it would.
It’s true though, in the end.
It was a one time thing and San had to accept that, because there was no way Wooyoung wanted to do that again with him, and he should just let it go, because there was nothing that came out of lusting for your best friend besides heart ache and awkward situations.
“Yo, are you okay? You’re taking really long to leave; I have to shower too.” San jumps so hard that he knocks over the green tea face wash labeled ‘Yunho’ into the trash can with a curse.
“Yeah, Woo, I’m leaving now.”
San is finally full and ready to sleep when Wooyoung stretches tiredly beside him and pats the empty space next to him on his too-small-to-fit-two-grown-men mattress.
“Sleep with me.” He pouts cutely, reaching his hands out with a lazy smile.
“Are you sure?” San knows he sounds stupid because they always sleep together when he sleeps over.
“Um, yeah?” Wooyoung laughs, a bit awkward. “We always do, plus Yunho doesn’t like other people in his bed, and I’m pretty sure you don’t want to sleep on the floor.”
San laughs back awkwardly and concedes, sliding into the bed beside Wooyoung, the only form of light being the moonlight peeking in through the slits in the shades and the lamp besides Wooyoung’s bed.
It’s a little too reminiscent of last night.
San can feel his hands clam up.
They just lay there; neither of them speaking, Wooyoung resting his head on San’s shoulder and watching whatever San does on his phone.
San wonders how long this will go on, his heart hammering in his chest, when Wooyoung speaks up.
“Are you mad at me or something?”
Crap.
“Huh? What do you mean?” San knows his voice is doing the thing where it gets high and uneven when he is trying to avoid a conversation. Wooyoung isn’t amused.
“You’ve been acting weird around me; did I do something wrong?” Silence. Then, “Is it about last night?”
San wonders if Wooyoung can hear how impossibly loud his heart is beating.
“No!” San knows he is louder than he is supposed to be, not willing to look at Wooyoung who sits up to look at him.
“San.” Wooyoung’s voice is firm. “Look at me and tell me the truth.”
Despite every fiber of his being telling him to just run out the front door and haul his ass home, San decides to listen, looking at Wooyoung with nervous eyes.
“If I did anything wrong or if I totally stepped over a boundary, please tell me, seriously. I won’t get mad.” Wooyoung’s voice is stern but somewhat calm.
“I mean, yeah, it kind of is about last night.” San sits up too, tries desperately to ignore the flush that settles across his cheeks and neck. “But, like, I don’t know --”
“Yes you do San, come on.” Wooyoung nudges him gently. “Tell me, I’m serious.” and he is, and San is flushing a painful shade of red, because Wooyoung is looking at him with worried eyes and his lip is pouting cutely and San wants to melt into a puddle.
“Was that meant to be like, a one time thing?” Wooyoung raises his eyebrows, surprised.
“Did… did you want it to be?” He asks in return, a smile stretching on his lips. “If I’m being honest I kind of invited you here for a round two--”
“Wooyoung!” San hisses, cheeks reddening even further while the shorter laughs teasingly. “I mean, I thought it was, but I’d, um…” He stares at Wooyoung’s lips and then his thighs and he swears it should be illegal to blush this hard. “I wouldn’t mind if it were a regular thing.”
There is a hand on San’s thigh and a grin on Wooyoung’s lips when he responds, but San can’t hear him anyway, blood rushing so fast in his ears that everything just sounds like one loud roar and it almost makes him dizzy.
San wonders if this is how all of Wooyoung’s hookups feel; special, like they just won the biggest prize at the fair, the biggest bear to be won in the most rigged boardwalk game imaginable.
“Aww, does San want to fuck around with Wooyoungie?” There is a grin plastered on Wooyoung’s face and San wants to kiss it off.
“Shut up, Woo.” He huffs, looking anywhere but the younger. “Anyway, if we do , shouldn’t we establish some ground rules first?”
Wooyoung seems to mature for a moment, humming in thought before responding, “Sure, what were you thinking?”
“For one, we can’t tell the others.” San begins, “They are already annoying enough, plus I kind of don’t want them in our business.”
“Gotcha; two, this is only a friends-with-benefits type of thing, no strings attached.” Wooyoung adds. “Anything else?”
“No kissing.” San blurts, because his brain is tortuous and he doesn’t know why he is still talking, but he is. “This is just to relieve stress, right? Just a fuck and go, last thing I need is for you to kiss me. Just friends, right?”
San expects Wooyoung to laugh but he doesn’t.
Instead, he slides his hand up San’s thigh and presses their faces dangerously close, eyes half lidded with an ominous glint despite the dim lighting.
“What’s wrong, afraid you’ll fall in love with me if you do?”
San also wonders if Wooyoung’s other hook-ups felt this way; like a mouse caught in a trap, vulnerable and open, a pawn for Wooyoung to toy with.
The beating in his chest is threatening to crack his ribs, break them apart so that his heart can just burst from his chest and fall into Wooyoung’s hands (where it belongs).
“I’m just kidding,” Wooyoung says suddenly with a laugh and San is exhaling loud enough to be heard through the rushing in his ears, not sure when exactly he had begun to hold his breath in the first place, chalks it over with a strained laugh. “I’m totally fine with that, Sannie.” and then he’s pushing San downwards, settling on sitting on his lap instead of allowing San to continue the conversation..
“Now, if there is nothing else, can we get started? I’ve wanted to get my hands on you all day .”
San is agreeing before he can think otherwise.
--------
It becomes a habit of sorts.
College stretches them thin, San cries about his future for a good thirty minutes, and then he is calling Wooyoung so that they can jerk off with one another in Wooyoung’s bedroom.
It doesn’t happen everyday persay, but it happens enough for San to notice when there is a sudden lull; like when Wooyoung is so focused on his work that San ends up not being able to see him for days, or when San’s classwork becomes so overwhelming that he isolates himself to the comfort of his room and doesn’t shower in two days.
It always comes to a point where San thinks It’s over, it was fun while it lasted! but then Wooyoung is messaging him again, a simple ‘Yunho’s gone. Wanna fuck?’ and San is dropping everything to rush to Wooyoung’s dingy little dorm.
San realizes that he likes it; the attention.
Wooyoung has always paid attention to him -- that was their ‘thing’, as so kindly put by their friends -- but San liked to be doted on, liked when all of Wooyoung’s undivided attention was on him.
He also liked the fact that Wooyoung was chatty .
San really expected no difference; Wooyoung on a normal day was loud and shrill, mouth flapping about any and everything, but in bed it was different, better.
“You’re so pretty, y’know that, Sannie?” There is a hand on San’s face, fingertips gently petting his eyelids, eyelashes, cheekbones, and despite his closed eyes San can picture the look Wooyoung is giving him.
It’s endearing, San likes to believe; that Wooyoung is watching him with half-lidded eyes filled with adoration.
He leans into the touch, humming breathlessly while the shorter just talks , as if they were discussing what to get for dinner, as if Wooyoung wasn’t digging the pad of his thumb into the head of San's weeping cock.
“My pretty little doll,” Wooyoung sing-songs, fingers finding their way to San’s forehead, brushing strands away from his forehead. “Will you be good and cum for me?”
He’s nodding he realizes, hiding his face into the curve of Wooyoung’s palm when he cums, painting Wooyoung’s hand white like he has done every other time, chest heaving with labored breaths and cheeks kissed crimson.
“You’re always so good, Sannie.” Comes the praise and San sniffles, heart swelling with something before San ignores it with the kisses Wooyoung presses into his skin, soft and reassuring.
The vulnerability; they never talk about it afterward.
It’s easier that way.
------------
“We need to hang out soon, I’m literally going to rot away if I see that studio for another weekend straight.” Hongjoong is mourning, mess of red hair splayed across the table while San picks at his food, disinterested.
“You sure Eden would let you out? You do have that internship with him, yeah?” Seonghwa asks, looking up from his notes to eye the moping strawberry. “I, too, would love to hang out, but I need a definite date before I agree to anything. You all know I’m free on Saturdays after four; does that work for any of you?”
San eyes Seonghwa for a moment and wonders how he handles everything with such a calm air.
Like everything else, San ignores it.
“I should be fine at that time, I finished some homework ahead of time anyway, and I don’t have anything coming up. I can ask Wooyoung if he is free?”
“Wooyoung will go anywhere as long as you’re there, San.” Yeosang quips as he approaches the table with Wooyoung in tow who scoffs at the statement.
The brunette kisses Seonghwa as a greeting while San laughs awkwardly, tries to calm his heart from performing the cha-cha slide behind his ribs.
“Where are we going?” Wooyoung inquires, sitting beside San and throwing a leg over his lap naturally, taking a spoonful of whatever San was picking at. “I’m fucking tired of being in the dance studio all day every day, and that’s saying something, coming from me.”
“We were planning for Saturday after four, since that works best for me, but Joong is being indecisive.” Seonghwa deadpans, closing his notes and placing them in his bag so that he could hold Yeosang’s hand instead.
“What is there to be indecisive about?” Wooyoung asks, grabbing onto San’s hand to play with his fingers. “Just call Eden and tell him you can’t make it, that you’re sick or something.”
“You have enough time to do it in advance anyway, since it is Monday. Tell him you need to visit family out of town.” Yeosang adds while Hongjoong groans.
“I don’t want him to get mad at me.” Whines the shortest, which earns a laugh from San.
“Joong, you are there like, every single day, for hours . I’m pretty sure he will let you have one day for yourself. You wanna call him now?”
Hongjoong pales.
“Come on, give me your phone.” Is the only warning Yeosang gives before he is reaching over and wrestling the red head.
There is a shout and Hongjoong is yelling, but Wooyoung is grabbing San’s attention with a tug of his hand.
“Your last exam; did you get it back?” He’s playing with San’s hand while he asks, engulfing San’s hand with the oversized sleeve of his sweater.
“Oh yeah, did you?” Seonghwa asks as well, jumping into the conversation and removing his attention from staring lovingly at Yeosang, who has Hongjoong in a headlock while he forces the shorter to give him his phone.
That prompts San to actually check his Mastering Chemistry account, because he can’t run from the anxiety anymore and he might as well check, right?
The page takes forever to load (thank you, shitty school wi-fi), but when it finally comes to, San exhales so loud he swears his lungs are going to give out.
“I got an 80.” The words barely leave his mouth before Wooyoung is exclaiming loudly.
“Congrats Sannie!” Wooyoung exclaims, and before San can really say anything else Wooyoung is kissing him on the cheek, pulling him into a ridiculously tight hug, and Seonghwa is eyeing them skeptically.
“So I see you two love birds are…?” Seonghwa asks, leaving the other two to fill in the sentence.
From the kiss on his cheek, to the arms around him, to Seonghwa’s question, San doesn’t even know where to start, but his heart is thumping wildly in his chest and he’s about to laugh but Wooyoung (of course, it’s always Wooyoung) is speaking up again.
“Just friends , Seonghwa.” Is what Wooyoung says, emphasizing on the friends part, even though he drags San with him and has the taller rest in his lap while he plays with his hair.
Seonghwa doesn’t buy it.
“Yeah, that’s what I said about Yeosang.” He deadpans, turning to look at the brunette in question, who types rapidly on Hongjoong’s phone as the red head reaches for it (to no avail).
“Okay but you’re like, stupid in love. We aren’t dating, much less in love. Don’t get it twisted, Seonghwa.”
The older rolls his eyes while San wrestles the strange feeling that manifests in his chest.
Wooyoung was right, San knew that, he knew that perfectly well; no feelings involved, no one in love, no dating. Just meaningless sex to relieve stress.
So what if San thought about waking up some days next to Wooyoung and kissing him until they were laughing! That was just a thought! Void of all feelings, except, except--
Except thinking about that made San’s heart race and fill with something indescribably warm, like honey was injected into his bloodstream and made him inexplicably sweet, all for Wooyoung.
His ears heat up and his stomach does this weird flip that makes him want to throw up.
“Okay guys, I got Hongjoong out of work on Saturday.” Yeosang’s voice manages to cut through the rushing in San’s ears. “So me, Seonghwa, Wooyoung, San and Hongjoong are all down. We only need Mingi, Yunho and Jongho.”
“I’ll tell Yunho and convince him to come.” Wooyoung chirps while he runs his fingers through San’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp before repeating.
The rest of the words are a garbled mess in San’s ears as he slips away.
-----------
By the grace of God the plans actually do go through, somehow falling in their favor for all eight of them to come together and hang out.
They made a group chat, which started out as sorting plans but ended up being a hotbed for memes and conversations that didn’t really make sense, until Seonghwa got tired of it and decided to do everything himself.
My place, Saturday, after 4:45pm. It’ll be a party and I’m inviting other people that I’m close with. Don’t be late and bring whatever you want as long as it’s legal.
San rereads the message over and over until his eyes hurt.
A party.
It’s not that San minds, per say, but rather he hasn’t been to a party or consumed alcohol since the first time he and Wooyoung started fooling around, and finals have been creeping up, and he knows he’s going to drink a bit too much, and he knows he is going to want to fool around with Wooyoung, and --
“Where are you going, San?” The raven jumps, startling at his mother's voice. She stands in his doorway, watching as he decides on what shirt to wear ( long sleeve or short? It’s been hot, but there might be a breeze… ).
“To Seonghwa’s.”
“Are you going with Wooyoung?” The question is innocent but San can’t help but heat up and feel like she knows everything.
“Yeah; we’re all going.” He tosses the long sleeved shirt to the side and tugs the short-sleeved one over his head.
“Okay, just be safe dear! Let me know how Wooyoung is doing when you can, or update me if you’re going to sleep at his dorm, okay? Also let him know I love him, since he treats my baby so well.” She sing-songs, running inside quickly to give San a kiss on the cheek and hug him tight.
San can’t help but laugh at the irony of her words.
“I will mom, thank you.”
When he is ready he grabs his belongings and tells his mother he loves her and leaves the house.
It’s somewhat warm when San reaches Seonghwa’s apartment at exactly 5:30pm (because who comes to a party on time?) when he notices a tall boy waiting outside.
“Mingi?” The taller turns around with big eyes that shrink into little crescents when he smiles at San.
“San hi!” Loud. “Guess we made it at the same time, huh?” He nudges the shorter with his elbow.
“Guess so.” Silence. “I’m hoping to get shit faced, if I’m honest with you. College sucks .”
Mingi laughs incredibly loud and San wonders if what he said was even that funny.
“Me too. I’m so tired of class right now. Last thing I want to focus on is school work.” Then, a moment later. “I hope Seonghwa got the good stuff.”
“If not Seonghwa, then Yeosang.” San grins, texting the group chat that he was downstairs with Mingi, and to hurry up, losers. “Plus, if you’re shit faced, you’ll get to kiss Hongjoong again.”
The sound that leaves Mingi is best described as an undignified yell.
“W-what? What do you mean?” Mingi sweats, scratching at his silver hair while San rolls his eyes.
“Nothing; all I’m saying is that if it happens, no one will say anything.” He gives Mingi his best fox grin before the door is opening, Hongjoong standing there with an oversized sweater tucked into his jeans.
“Hey guys, come on let’s-- why is Mingi so red?” The boy in question eyes Hongjoong and flushes deeper, sputtering nonsense while San slips by with a loud laugh.
By the time the three of them reach the apartment, the music is loud, only made louder when the door is opened by Wooyoung, who smiles widely at the sight of San and drags him inside by the hand.
“You guys made it!” He is yelling, already shoving a red cup filled with clear liquid into San’s hands. “Turns out Seonghwa actually knows how to throw a party!”
San absently takes a sip of the drink and instantly cringes, making a sound of irritation.
“God, what is this?” He coughs, chest already feeling warm.
“I don’t remember? Yeosang mixed it; it was like, peach soju, vodka…” Wooyoung lists off an arrangement of alcohols and San blanches.
“Dude, this is like, guaranteed to fuck us up in one cup.”
That earns him a loud laugh from Wooyoung as the shorter leans against him and San is once again left wondering how much he had to drink already.
“I’m going to make sure you don’t overdrink this because you already seem drunk enough .” San scolds, standing his best friend upright.
“Oh come on, Sannie, this was planned to forget about everything, yeah?” The music pulses deep in San’s bones, a mix of purple, pink and red lighting adorning Wooyoung’s features when he smiles prettily at San. “Let loose, let’s have fun, okay?” A warm hand finds San’s and he can’t help but smile too, bringing the cup back up to his lips to distract from the color that finds its way to his cheeks.
“Okay, but I’m also going to make sure you don’t get alcohol poisoning.” Another laugh and a squeeze of his hand and San thinks that maybe keeping his cup to his lips and chugging an unreasonable amount is worth it, just so that Wooyoung can’t see the way his face screams I adore you .
“Okay Sannie, I’ll hold you to it! Now let’s dance, come on!” and like that, San is being dragged into the living room, body held tight against Wooyoung when the younger finally finds a spot he thinks is the best spot to dance .
Normally, Wooyoung is touchy to a normal extent. Tipsy leaning on drunk, however?
Wooyoung couldn’t touch enough.
His hands are everywhere and San doesn’t know what to do other than dance along with him, cheeks flushing with alcohol and something else.
Looking to the side, San notices Seonghwa kissing Yeosang (gross) against a wall, red cup held loosely in the brunette's hands while he practically sucks off the raven’s face and San can practically hear their laughter that reeks of love when they smile into the kiss.
To the left San can see Mingi talking to Hongjoong and despite the mix of colors in the apartment, Mingi’s nervous flush is still noticeable, even from where San stands, grinding lazily against Wooyoung who takes a fascination with how thin San’s waist is, seeing if he truly can make his fingers touch if he circles his hands around his waist just right.
Mingi’s smiling widely albeit a bit nervous while Hongjoong chatters, sipping idly at his drink (even though he can’t handle alcohol better than a child). Then Mingi is brushing hair away from Hongjoong’s eyes and the redhead is laughing, reaching up to do the same to Mingi, and San can practically see the moment the taller boy’s soul leaves his body.
San feels rigid, a bit too stiff for something that was supposed to be fun , and he decides fuck it , and simply downs whatever poisonous concoction is in his cup and tosses it to the side, pulling Wooyoung flush against him with a strong arm, hand not-so-discreetly holding Wooyoung’s ass, earning him a big grin.
“Oooh, you’re getting bold,” A laugh, and then a brush of lips right under San’s chin when Wooyoung sways a bit in his grip.
“Just trying to keep you in place.” Someone brushes by them at that moment, knocking Wooyoung closer into San with a humph. “See what I mean?”
Wooyoung responds by putting San’s other hand against his ass too, hiding his face in the older’s neck and kissing idly, and San wonders if it’s the heavy bass of the music or the close proximity, or maybe even the alcohol that makes his heart kick into overdrive.
Somewhere someone is laughing loud enough to cut through the music, and another group is convincing someone to chug! chug! chug! Something and San feels boneless in Wooyoung’s arms, inhaling his scent of cedar wood and coconut shampoo and everything is filled to the brim with warmth .
“You smell like soap.” The words are spoken into the curve of San’s neck with an air of humor and all San can really do is pinch Wooyoung’s side for being so silly. “Science major finally got time to shower for once.” and then San is laughing too, wrapping his arms around the younger and hugging him with a sense of endearment he’s never really felt before.
“Shut up, loser.” He squeezes tightly and Wooyoung actually giggles .
“Yeah well I’m your loser, so you have to deal with me!” He says easily, reaching back and locking his hand with San’s, leading him into some sort of impromptu Waltz that has the older smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt, blaring hues of pink and red adorning the apples of Wooyoung’s cheeks when he pulls away enough from San to sing loudly at him.
San’s mouth tastes of happiness; lemony sweet with sparkles of clementine.
He wants to share it with Wooyoung.
--------
“Let’s play a game!” Yeosang is shouting his words despite the fact that he lowered the stereo volume.
“Like what?” Yunho asks, leaning against someone San doesn’t really recognize (but to be fair, San has had two and a half cups of whatever Yeosang whipped up and the floor is competing with the ceiling for who can spin the fastest).
“Spin the bottle!” Yeosang shakes his fist like some sort of dictator, as if this suggestion was world changing and totally not a game that horny teenagers play when their parents are away for the weekend.
The group of (mostly drunk) college students agree anyway , because (in their words), ‘why not?’
It goes from point A to point B fairly quickly, because one second San is leaning against Wooyoung and the next he’s sitting in what is supposed to be a circle with a bunch of college students who giggle like kids who feel like they’re about to enter ‘adulthood’, sitting next to Yunho, who is touchy and wraps his huge arm around San’s shoulders with a laugh he hides behind his hand.
“Okay we all know the rules right, right?” Yeosang is holding an empty bottle of vodka that was most likely utilized to create whatever devil water everyone was drinking. Everyone agrees, but Yeosang explains anyway, surprisingly talkative when inebriated. “You spin the bottle and whoever it lands on you have to kiss them! But if you don’t really want to, you can just kiss them on the cheek! All good?” Everyone agrees again and the brunette claps, giving a thumbs up when he places the bottle down and spins it.
It lands on someone, some blond short kid San has probably seen once.
“Hwanwoongie,” the brunette is humming his name as if he is going to continue the sentence and crawls forward toward the blond, who grins prettily, and San swears he has never seen such a pretty boy in his life.
Yeosang gives Hwanwoong a brief kiss and then laughs into the back of his hand, crawling back to his seat, and clinging to Seonghwa’s arm and muttering something indiscernible.
“Come on Keonhee, you’re next.”
And that’s how it goes.
Someone is spinning the bottle, two people reach forward, the group cheers, and then it is on to the next person.
San doesn’t realize he’s staring at the ceiling with rapt attention until Yunho is nudging him and telling him that it’s his turn.
He takes hold of the bottle, twisting it and watching it spin, joining the competition against the ceiling and the floor as Mingi cheers loudly beside Wooyoung.
Wooyoung.
Oh fuck.
San suddenly feels sweaty.
The bottle spins and it spins and it spins and San wants to grab it and force it to stop.
This suddenly isn’t as fun as San thought it would be.
Calm down, he thinks, watching the bottle, then sneaking a glance at Wooyoung who plays idly with his lower lip while he leans against Mingi’s big frame.
There are like, twenty people here! Besides, even if it landed on him, that doesn’t mean you have to kiss him on the lips! He tries to reason with himself, heart speeding up when the bottle starts to slow down, and San kind of wants to evaporate into the carpet.
Instead, he looks up at Wooyoung who just so happened to be looking at him at the same time, and San feels like his skin is burning bright in the darkness of the room.
Wooyoung is still staring at him when the bottle stops, pointing at someone else entirely, and San comes to the conclusion that maybe, just maybe, he would rather crawl over, pin Wooyoung down and kiss him until he’s breathless and soft underneath him.
San isn’t sure which scenario scares him more.
“San, you have to kiss Youngjo.” Yeosang is reminding him, another red cup held to his lips, and it’s a miracle from God that he’s still coherent.
The boy in question reaches forward and kisses San chastly, lips meeting clumsily when Youngjo only kisses at the corner of San’s mouth.
Then the moment is passing and the next person is grabbing the bottle and Wooyoung isn’t looking at San anymore.
They’re almost done with the circle, Mingi having spun and actually having it land on Hongjoong, and he laughs so loud that it’s awkward before the redhead is quite literally climbing the taller and placing a kiss on his lips with a sense of ferality San had never seen before (and never wants to see again). The silver haired boy sits in flushed silence when it’s finally Wooyoung’s turn and San doesn’t know why he feels the need to watch so intently when the younger flicks the bottle with his wrist and it goes spinning.
The music isn’t even that loud but San feels like he is vibrating, skin pricking with a deadly cocktail of anxiety, anticipation and something else.
I can finally kiss Wooyoung if it lands on me.
The thought frightens him, but in a good way.
Except the bottle isn’t landing on him, and instead on Yunho, and San wonders if Wooyoung will actually kiss him.
He won’t, right? Because Wooyoung doesn’t kiss his friends, and he is definitely going to just kiss Yunho on the cheek, and--
And yet here he is, reaching up and kissing Yunho square on the lips, and San suddenly feels hot for another reason.
It’s kind of like a car crash, or those tsunami videos you stumble across at 4am when you have nothing else to watch.
It’s absolutely horrible, San thinks, but it’s happening right in front of him and he can’t tear his eyes away and his body reacts like a block of sodium that was chucked into water: explosive.
He wants to throw up, or shout, or shove Wooyoung off of Yunho, or maybe all three, and his chest feels tight and--
“Alright y’all, Hwa found his Cards Against Humanity cards, let’s play that instead!”
Wooyoung is laughing and leaning into Yunho’s chest clumsily and the taller jostles him playfully until they are both pink and brimming with mirth.
And because San is San and Wooyoung is Wooyoung, and because Wooyoung is beautiful San is left staring; at his pretty lips and golden skin and beautiful eyes kissed gently by hues of purple and pink, and San almost says it; almost cries I’m in love with you, almost rips out his heart for the millionth time in front of everyone to offer it to Wooyoung on a silver platter, almost, almost, almost--
But he doesn’t, he just sits there, staring at the beauty that is Wooyoung, begs his heart to stop beating, begs for these emotions to not be real; because whether he likes it or not, Wooyoung isn’t his.
Never was and never will be.
San has to remember that.
When the pain in his heart bleeds into something more subdued, San goes to grab another drink.
------
Cards Against Humanity doesn’t last long; Yeosang laughs so hard at the card that simply says yeast that he damn near throws up on the carpet and Seonghwa has to excuse them both, which gives San enough time to cool off.
However, cooling off leads to reflection, which leads to San thinking a bit too hard about it while he stares into the cup of water he poured himself.
Okay, so maybe Wooyoung kissed Yunho; so what? It was a game and everybody was kissing somebody and it wasn’t that big of a deal.
Except for some reason it was and San can’t help but feel heat unpleasantly flood his cheeks at the memory of it and he can’t figure out why.
By no means is San a jealous person (in his opinion, anyway), so he battles with the internal walk-of-shame while he sips absently at his water and eats the crust off of a slice of bread.
The music is loud again and it’s somewhere around 10:45pm when Mingi and Hongjoong stumble into the kitchen, seemingly ignoring San since the taller of the two picks up the redhead and sits him on the table, and San leaves just as he hears Hongjoong whine into a wet sounding kiss (he’s going to die here).
San tries (key word: tries ) to hide himself away again, tries to find a place that isn’t the living room, but is stopped by the exact person he is trying to ignore and slaps himself internally, wondering if he should have just stood in the kitchen and put up with Mingi and Hongjoong trying to eat one another.
“San!” Wooyoung is smiling with all of his teeth and grabbing San’s cup before the older can even react. “I have been looking for you! Where have you been!” He’s yelling and his voice is doing that pitchy thing it does when he strains his voice instead of projecting.
Ignoring you is what San wants to say, but decides against it, because even he knows that’s petty.
“Just in the kitchen drinking water.” San answers simply even though his body screams at him to ignore Wooyoung.
“Water?” The shorter asks, drinking experimentally from San’s cup and hissing as if he drank Yeosang’s demon concoction instead.
“Yeah; I don’t want to go home entirely drunk.” To be fair, San was essentially telling some sort of truth.
“But the night is still young! Come on, have a drink with me! Let’s have more fun!” Wooyoung is shouting again and if it wasn’t for San’s pathetic(ally in love) heart, he’d had kept up his indifference, but the music is good, everyone is laughing, and the last thing San needs is to be upset over something he had no control over.
He and Wooyoung weren’t dating. No one knew they were even fucking around.
They were a secret and the last thing from exclusive.
San had to remember that.
So instead he smiles, decides that maybe it’s for the best, and shoves his emotions so far down his throat, into his chest, into a bottle that requires a little more effort to close, but closes nonetheless, and throws it so far that the echoes of its landing can’t be heard.
That’s how he finds himself laughing uncontrollably on the floor of Seonghwa’s small living room, hiding his face in the crook of Wooyoung’s neck at somewhere between 11pm and 12am.
Someone has started smoking weed and all the windows are open because if my furniture stinks of weed you’re all going to clean my apartment , and San contemplates on taking a hit before Wooyoung is running a hand down his chest, hands teasing.
“San,” he whispers the word as if anyone was able to listen over the deep bass of some song San can’t really remember. “You wanna get out of here?” The older is staring at the ceiling because that’s all he really can look at, body glued to the floor.
He takes too long to respond, eyes counting every bit of detail that he can see (he counts 77; he might have counted the same thing more than once).
“Why? Are you bored?” He asks, clumsily taking Wooyoung’s hand in his, resting them on his chest. He can vaguely see Yunho in his peripheral, sees the tall boy flirting with some girl that was in Wooyoung’s dance class (Yeji, was it?), and for some reason feels a sense of relief.
He squeezes Wooyoung’s hand a little bit tighter.
“Not bored.” He doesn’t really answer after that and San is worried that the younger fell asleep, before he is talking again. “Horny.”
“Oh.” Is all San can really say, cheeks flaring up at Wooyoung’s blunt words, which earns him a laugh that rings loud in his ears.
“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”
San is speaking up before he can stop himself.
“I want to.” He thinks of Yunho kissing Wooyoung and maybe the bottle uncorks a little bit because suddenly he feels possessive. “Where do you want to?”
By the grace of God they manage to stand upright and actually stay up, laughing into one another childishly, Wooyung holding San’s hand and dragging him and everything is a blur but all San cares about is Wooyoung, Wooyoung, Wooyoung.
Wooyoung could drag San into his untimely death and San would accept it with open arms.
Consequently, isn’t that what this was?
He doesn’t allow himself to think about it for too long, because before he knows it, he is being thrown into a room, dark before the light switch is clumsily turned on and Wooyoung is kissing his neck.
“You look so pretty tonight. I’ve been turned on since I saw you.” The words are spoken between open mouthed kisses against the constellation against San’s neck. “I’ve wanted you alone for hours.”
San couldn’t begin to explain what that did for his ego (and his cock).
“You should have said so.” He says instead, hands finding the fly of Wooyoung’s stupidly sexy ripped jeans by muscle memory, unbuttoning as best as he can while the shorter makes quick work of rucking San’s shirt up.
Everything is fast when San’s mind can catch up to it; Wooyoung sucking a dark red mark on his collarbone, licking his beauty mark, biting his chest, and San can barely keep up because suddenly Wooyoung is on his knees and San can feel his lungs deflate.
“Is everything okay?” He asks stupidly, because he knows everything is fine, but Wooyoung answers him anyway and San wishes he didn’t even ask.
“Yeah. Kind of want to suck your cock.”
Good thing San was locked in Seonghwa’s ridiculously tidy bathroom because he moans pathetically loud and Wooyoung laughs at him.
“Gotta keep your voice down, baby, you don’t want anyone to hear you.” So San nods and slaps a hand over his mouth, hoping the speakers covered his moan.
San and Wooyoung have been doing this for quite some time, but never has Wooyoung sucked (or even offered to suck) San’s dick, and this is riling the older more than he can explain, because Wooyoung is kneeling between his legs, and he is pulling out San’s cock, and ohmyGod--
“Woo, christ, ” Not that much is even happening but Wooyoung is very to the point it seems, putting the head of San’s dick into his mouth and sucking, tongue flicking the slit and San feels like he is going to die in this stupidly pristine bathroom that has too many towels to seem appropriate while Mad Dog pumps through the goddamn speakers in the living room where everyone probably doesn’t even realize they’re gone.
Wooyoung pulls off, lips sweetly red when he smiles at San like some sort of succubus sent from hell to suck out San’s pathetic little soul.
“What’s wrong, Sannie?” He purrs, hand stroking loosely around the thickness in his hand. “Suddenly shy? Feel like you’re gonna cum?”
San really is going to die in this bathroom, drunk and by the hands (and lips) of his best friend.
(Not that that was a bad thing).
“No, it just feels really good.” Wooyoung preens at the praise and presses a kiss to the tip before sliding it into his mouth again, slurping obscenely and San wonders how in the hell he was going to keep his hips still.
As if reading his mind Wooyoung uses his free hand and pins San’s hip against the sink, taking more into his mouth and the sound that leaves San’s throat is akin to a dying cat.
It’s messy and there is spit everywhere and Wooyoung is making this obscene wet sound every time he pulls up near the tip, and then he’s going back down and lower and San can feel the head of his cock brush the back of Wooyoung’s throat and he’s whining, thighs pressing together against Wooyoung’s cheeks and the younger moans loudly, vibrations sending pleasure straight down his spine.
Wooyoung is pulling off again, choosing to lick the head while he strokes the rest, sucking sloppily at the slit and San cries out, knuckles white against the counter where he grips for dear life. It should be disgusting, what with the way Wooyoung licks up the precum at the slit only to spit it back out all over San's cock to make everything even more wet, but San is living for it, moans obscenely when there's a disgustingly wet squelching sound, and wonders just how many people Wooyoung has done this for.
Wonders if he was the only one Wooyoung has done this for.
His cock dribbles another fat bead of pre all over Wooyoung’s expectant tongue and he bites his lip on another pathetic sound when there's a rattling at the door, knob turning to no avail.
"San, are you in there?" It's Seonghwa and San can feel his entire body freeze, Wooyoung looking up at him through pretty lashes.
What do I say? San is gesturing at the other, so Wooyoung stands, pressing his front against San hotly, and San feels like he's going to pass out, or throw up, or both.
"I dunno, Sannie? Are you in here?" The words are hot in his ear and they melt together with the lyrics of the song currently playing and Wooyoung is so fucking warm and he smells so good, like wood and the ocean, and--
"San?" It's Seonghwa again and Wooyoung is pulling away enough to smile, mischievous, before he is getting on his knees again and prompting San to talk.
"Yeah, Hwa, I'm here." San responds, cock hanging pathetically before Wooyoung is taking it in his hand again to warm it up, stroking languidly while San hisses.
"Oh, okay." Silence.
San thinks he's safe, that Seonghwa has walked away, and is about to moan when the voice continues.
"Have you seen Wooyoung?" And then Wooyoung is opening his mouth to swallow San's cock again and to the stars above, San thinks he's really going to die, grabbing a stupidly decorated towel and shoving it in his mouth to muffle his moan.
"It's been like, thirty minutes and no one has seen him. I would expect you would know where he is."
Wouldn't you like to know, is what San wants to say, but instead he's digging his nails into his palm when Wooyoung pulls off and sucks his sac into his mouth.
"I haven't seen him," San breathes out around the towel, muffled, sweat making his body ridiculously sticky and Wooyoung's lips are the only thing on San's mind; soft and smooth and he wants to fuck Wooyoung's mouth until he’s absolutely gagging around San's cock, wants to cum all over his face and down his throat and God, Seonghwa is on the other side of the door and he has no idea, no idea that Wooyoung is sucking cock on his knees in his stupid fucking royalty bathroom, and--
"Are you okay? Do you need medication? You sound kind of sick." San moans around the towel again, eyes fluttering shut briefly before Wooyoung is calling for him quietly, getting his attention.
"I bet this turns you on, doesn't it?" He's slurring, chin covered in spit and precum and he's tonguing the slit again. "Bet it would turn you on even more if he walked in on us, huh? If he caught me sucking your cock?" San nods, thrusts weakly into Wooyoung's grip and feels his cock drip when the younger simply grins, lapping at the clear fluid with ease.
"I bet you'd like it if I was fingering you too, wouldn't you? If I fingered you nice and deep, ate you out and opened you up with my tongue, right? All while Seonghwa asked you things right behind the door?" He's nodding, cheeks flushed bright red at just the thought of Wooyoung touching him that way. "You're so fucking dirty, Sannie, like getting your stupid cock sucked while your precious hyung is right outside. Go on, answer him." San is breathing so hard it hurts, eyes unfocused and he's so close to cumming, cock an angry red while Wooyoung just teases him, but he answers anyway.
"I-I'm okay, Hwa. Just needed a breather." There's another knock and a muted humph that is just loud enough to be heard. The younger sucks San into his mouth again before Seonghwa can answer.
"In the bathroom? Don't be ridiculous; come out, I'll make you something."
"N-no, I'm okay." Wooyoung is going even lower and San shoves his face in the towel before he sobs, thighs trembling when Wooyoung's nose brushes his gently trimmed patch of hair, staying there and looking up at San with eyes so dark he might just fall in (or maybe he already has).
"San, you'll thank me later." The older persists, and San knows he means well, but for the love of God he wishes Seonghwa would just leave.
"I'm so close," San whispers, drool smearing his cheek from when he sobbed wetly into the towel, looking down blearily at Wooyoung who simply nods and swallows around him, bobbing his head quickly while he plays with the base.
"Really, I'm okay--" Except he isn't, because Wooyoung is reaching lower and pressing two fingers just enough at San's entrance and he's cumming without warning, muffling his cry just in time as he cums inside Wooyoung's expectant mouth, hot and sticky and wet, and Wooyoung just takes it.
San is a mess, legs jelly as he struggles to keep his legs up, leaning against the counter while Wooyoung sucks just a little more to help San ride it out before he is pulling off, standing so that he can press against San again, warmth on warmth.
They're looking at each other, and San thinks Seonghwa is saying something but he seriously couldn't care less, not when Wooyoung is opening his mouth and showing him all of the cum collected there, soiling his tongue and mouth in pearly white ropes and fuck, he's holding San's mouth open, and the cum is sliding off of his tongue, and why can't San close his mouth?
His cum is sliding from Wooyoung's mouth into his and in San's delusional state, he thinks this could almost be considered an indirect kiss, so he takes it, moans when the bitter, sticky fluid hits his tongue and slides down this throat, wishes Wooyoung would just lean in a little bit more and slide their tongues together, but he takes what he can get and swallows, watches when the younger follows in his footsteps, licking his lips like he just tasted the best thing in the fucking world.
"You need to cum." He's already reaching for Wooyoung's leaky cock that tents his boxers, absolutely relishes when that earns him a sloppy, open mouthed kiss along his neck.
"Fuck yes, just a little more Sannie, I'm so close," The younger encourages, rutting against San's hand and thigh, holding onto the sink, and then he's cumming too, covering San's hand in white, and for a brief moment the older wonders what it would feel like to have that inside of him and not in his hand for once.
The thought doesn't last long because suddenly the door is rattling again and the door knob is turning and it's opening, its fucking opening and, and--
San throws himself against the door to close it and Wooyoung throws himself in the shower, closing the curtains to hide himself while San redresses himself in record speed, balling his hand into a fist to hide the cum that sits there.
"U-uh, excuse me! I was using the bathroom!" His laugh is so painfully forced that he wants to cringe.
The door opens fully when he finally gives way and rests against the sink again, noticing the towel still strewn about the counter top.
"You scared me half to death, San. The last thing I need is for you to die in my apartment; in the bathroom, no less!"
Seonghwa is lecturing him, angrily mentioning that you got my fancy towel wet! while San washes his hands, folding the cloth and placing it back where it belonged before he is grabbing San by the wrist and leading him back into the kitchen.
When San turns around, he sees Wooyoung slip back to the living room as if nothing happened, smile bright and cup in hand, and then they’re locking eyes, Wooyoung winking with a grin before turning back to chat noisily with Jongho, who laughs too loudly.
San’s heart thumps once, twice, before Seonghwa is catching his attention again with water and another scolding.
-----
Waking up at some point at five in the morning, when the sun is just reaching above the mountains and the birds begin chirping, after a long night of God-knows-what shouldn't be comforting, yet it is.
At least to San it is.
The room is painted a pale shade of blue, the slightest hint of yellow peeking through the blinds and kissing whatever it lands on with bright light, illuminating.
San can't move; his body is lead and the only thing that is really awake are his eyes, and of all the things they decide to land on, they decide to land on Wooyoung.
He's asleep and San can just stare without it being weird. He stares at his long eyelashes that fall just right, pretty black against sun kissed skin, stares at his uniquely shaped nose, his rose petal lips that have the prettiest mole, his perfectly placed beauty marks right under his left eye, and San wants to touch.
Wooyoung is beautiful.
It's the morning after the party; San somehow found his way into the same Lyft as Yunho and Wooyoung, called his mom and told her he was spending the night as best as he could, and blacked out the moment he lay beside Wooyoung in the twin sized bed that was admittedly too small for the two of them, but it’s comfortable and San would never admit that it feels like home.
Yunho is snoring away softly in the silence of the room while Wooyoung breathes quietly, arm slung over San's waist in an attempt to bring him closer and save him from tumbling off the bed.
Everything is warm.
San is on his back and he wonders if it’d be obvious that he was awake if he turned around and held onto Wooyoung, pulled him close and wrapped him in his arms.
Wonders if it would be obvious if he kissed Wooyoung in the silence of the room while Yunho slept in the bed right next to them.
“Sannie?” The boy in question jumps, eyes focusing on where the voice came from, hand on his waist tightening before loosening entirely.
“Yeah?” The word comes out so quietly San wonders if Wooyoung even heard him.
“What time is it?” Croaks the younger, refusing to open his eyes.
“I don’t know.” Wooyoung sucks his teeth before he’s reaching out again, pulling San against his chest in a tight embrace.
“Whatever,” his voice is dreamy, slipping back to unconsciousness. “Let’s sleep.”
San wonders if Wooyoung can feel his heartbeat against his own.
The room is quiet again; yellow patches of light dancing across the planes of Wooyoung’s cheeks.
Wooyoung is beautiful.
-----
“Before you say anything, just know I am willing to dump this cup of coffee over you.” Is the first thing Hongjoong says when he walks over to San at their usual meet up spot, neck decorated in splotchy red hickies that were placed just high enough to not be covered by anything even remotely weather appropriate.
San laughs so loud that his stomach hurts.
“Did Mingi try to eat you?” Hongjoong scowls and tries to hide his neck with his hand. “I know we say you’re bite-sized but God he took that to another level--” San screams when Hongjoong removes the lid of his coffee in the form of a threat.
“Shut up, San. Let’s not talk about it; besides, you aren’t any better-- who the hell gave you that?”
“What do you--”
“The big red hickey on your neck freckles, or can you not see?” Hongjoong takes a sip of his drink and eyes San’s neck. “Not so fun being in the spotlight now, is it?”
San sneers at Hongjoong before trying to come up with a lie that sounds even remotely true.
“Just someone at the party.”
“Who?” Hongjoong is thinking, and then his grin is cheshire. “Was it Wooyoung? He always marvels at your neck freckles. Are you guys finally dating or what?”
San can feel his soul leave his body.
“What the-- what do you? What? No! Dude, that’s… that’s weird you know we aren’t dating, or like, we don’t even like, like each other dude, don’t be weird!” Smooth. “It was Youngjo-- Ravn? That guy. We got a little bit drunk and we made out or whatever in the hallway.”
It is very evident that Hongjoong doesn’t believe him, but San clings onto the false hope that somehow, Hongjoong does.
“Would have been believable if he wasn’t dating Hwanwoong, San.” He takes another sip of his drink and San feels like he’s going to evaporate into nothingness.
“U-uh, yeah, sure, you got me!” He laughs awkwardly, rubbing his neck where Wooyoung left the stupid mark he forgot to look at before he left this morning.
To be fair, San was a pro at hiding these things, he’s done it enough to know how to blend, conceal, and remove all hickies and marks if need be. However, he just so happened to spend the weekend at Wooyoung’s place, and maybe the younger started to fool around with San before his 10:40am class, and maybe Wooyoung did take a liking to San’s neck freckles, because he was sucking on that spot all morning before San had to run to his lab with just his lab packet and his lab goggles with a yell of bring me my bookbag later!
San hadn’t even had the chance to check the mirror until he was going down the escalator to meet with Hongjoong and caught his reflection in the somewhat reflective wall, big red mark adorning his neck, and he flushed as red as Hongjoong’s hair right before the older arrived.
“Anyway!” San laughs, scratching the back of his head awkwardly while Hongjoong rolls his eyes with disinterest. “Who cares how I got it--”
“Wooyoung, got it.”
“ I said , who cares how I got it! What is up with you and Mingi? Are you guys like, dating or something?”
San expects a bashful smile or an exasperated threat, but instead he gets a dejected sigh accompanied by a pout of lips and San wishes he didn’t ask.
“We aren’t anything , thanks for asking.”
“But aren’t you guys always kissing and clinging to each other? What about that?”
“That’s only when we’re drunk.” Hongjoong takes a long drink of coffee and San picks at his nails awkwardly in the silence between.
The redhead doesn’t really say much after that and San doesn’t know how to follow up, but then Hongjoong is sighing again and scratching at his neck.
“It’s great when we do kiss, and I do like him... God, I like Mingi so much.” He whines and buries his head in his hands and San can’t help but empathize. “I don’t know. I don’t think he likes me in that way, y’know?” and boy does San understand where Hongjoong is coming from.
“I don’t think that’s true.” The younger starts, trying to be comforting while the redhead sulks, looking somewhat like a crest-fallen puppy. “I’m pretty sure Mingi likes you! I mean like, look at you, you’re…” San looks at Hongjoong for a little too long and the shorter reddens, reaching out and hitting San on the arm, making the younger laugh.
“Now is not the time to play, San!” He fumes and San would have kept up the charade if Hongjoong didn’t look seriously troubled.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but seriously, Joong, you’re amazing, he’d be stupid not to like you.” The younger nudges the redhead affectionately. “You’re cute! You’re short--”
“Watch it.”
“ --Fun sized, you’re amazing at composing music, and you guys have a ton in common, so like, I’m pretty sure he likes you. He gets all red before he sees you and stutters around you, y’know?” Hongjoong picks his head up at that, eyes uncharacteristically shiny.
“Really?” He sounds so hopeful that San somehow feels bad.
“Yeah! Before the party, he was all,” San squares his shoulders and pouts his lips in a terrible attempt to mimic Mingi, “Oh, Hongjoong is so cute!” and the redhead laughs, cheeks glowing almost as bright as his hair.
“Shut up, you’re just saying that.” The smile on his face is sweet and for a second, San wonders if that is what he looks like when he talks about Wooyoung. “But whatever, even if you are telling the truth, thank you for listening to me at least. Even if he does like me, I just wish he would… do something? Y’know? To make this seem more like an ‘ I like you, please date me’ situation and not an ‘ I like you but only when I want to kiss someone’ situation.”
San wants to laugh, but he isn’t sure if it’s at himself or with Hongjoong.
“Talk to him about it then.” San suggests and the other makes a face, as if he stepped on something sharp and is trying to hold in a scream, but he releases a long breath instead and downs the rest of his coffee.
“Fine, fine, I’ll talk to him.” He concludes, pulling out his wallet. “What do you want to eat? It’s on me.” San smiles as big as the moon.
-------
“You’re staying for summer break?” San is sitting across from Wooyoung on the roof of the younger’s dorm, popsicle cold against his lips.
Finals had just finished and Wooyoung hadn’t even begun to pack. He called San over for what San expected was another booty call, but Wooyoung just held up a bag of ice pops and sweets instead and dragged San to the roof.
“Yeah, might as well, right?” He bites a piece off of his icee and munches thoughtfully. “I like summer in the city, the class is only two days a week, and I get to hang out with all of you… well, except Yunho. He’s leaving next week.” San hums in thought while Wooyoung throws his popsicle stick into the small black bag he got it from and grabs another from the little makeshift cooler he created.
“We should all hang out, then, before he leaves.” San replies around the popsicle. “Joong and Hwa are taking summer courses too; it’s their last ones before they graduate, and there are only a couple of weeks before summer semester begins.”
Wooyoung only hums in response, hot near-summer sun melting their treats and cooking them alive.
“They’re so lame for being so responsible.” Another bite. “Sucks that we won’t see them next semester.” Then he’s sitting up and cleaning off his second popsicle stick, throwing it in the bag and turning to San with an inquisitive brow. “Forget about that though; what are your plans for summer?”
“I don’t even know,” San laughs, licking melted juice from his finger and humming, staring at the too blue sky and squinting, end-of-May sun burning hotter than usual. “This semester fried my brain; I kind of want to just sleep forever, but honestly I’ll just do whatever you guys want to do.”
They are sitting across from one another, skin sticking to the ridiculously hot plastic lawn chairs and without a doubt leaving ugly red stripes across their skin.
“Well at least you have me, right?” Wooyoung is putting on his prettiest eyes and San smiles without thinking, heart fluttering. “I’ll make all the plans and I’ll invite you to come along; sound good?”
“Always does, Woo.” San finishes off his popsicle with a sigh and reads the on-stick joke with a hum. “You always know how to have fun.”
The shorter smiles prettily at San while he pulls his hair back, tying his hair into a lazy ponytail, and then he’s standing and sitting right beside San. The close proximity should be sweltering and uncomfortable but San wants to be closer, closer, closer.
“Make a promise with me, yeah?” Wooyoung is holding out his little finger and smiling and San realizes that without even knowing what it is, he’d blindly do anything for the little vixen in front of him. “Let’s have an amazing summer, and let’s stay friends, like this, forever! Okay?”
San is staring; he knows this, but his heart is pounding like the traffic underneath them, loud and catastrophic and terrifying.
He’s stupid, like he always is for Wooyoung, and wraps their pinkies together, mirroring the youngers.
“I promise.” He says with an air of finality, and then Wooyoung is hugging him, all sweaty limbs and sticky fingers, but San doesn’t mind (he never does -- not when it’s Wooyoung).
San can feel flowers bloom in his heart.
-------
“You have a lot of nerve dragging me out here, Jung Wooyoung.” Jongho complains, but there is no bite. The older simply hugs Jongho until the younger whines in protest, but it is evident that he doesn’t mind.
“You know you love me and you can’t resist my charm.” Wooyoung teases, lips puckered in some sort of pout that San finds incredibly endearing.
“You’re too confident in yourself.” Jongho peels Wooyoung off with his superhuman strength and the latter pouts.
“I just know how amazing I am, and I know that today is going to be great, because I plan the best hangouts.” Jongho only rolls his eyes at that and decides to focus on tying his flannel around his waist, arms on display causing Wooyoung to feign swooning (it actually makes Jongho laugh, all bashful smiles and warm cheeks; San thinks he’s adorable).
It doesn’t take long for the others to arrive; Yeosang swinging his and Seonghwa’s interlocked hands between them, Seonghwa smiling like he won the lotto (but in Seonghwa’s eyes he already did, San thinks). Yunho jogs up to the group afterwards, bright yellow hoodie sticking out like a sore thumb, almost as bright as the smile plastered on his face.
Then, a familiar pair of red and silver, and San shouts at Hongjoong to hurry up, completely missing the way the redhead yanks his hand away from Mingi.
“What took you so long!” It’s more of an exclamation than a question on San’s behalf but he hugs Hongjoong anyway, squeezing him despite the heat.
“It doesn’t matter, they’re finally here, so let’s go!” Wooyoung exclaims and they all cheer, entering the boardwalk.
-----
It’s some time past seven, when the sun is beginning to set and everything is this warm mix of orange-pink-purple that San just loves so much. Yeosang sips loudly from an ice cream float he purchased while Jongho munches on a pretzel, warm breeze filtering in from the beach that rests just across the board walk.
They’re sitting at a table that is just large enough for the eight of them, Yeosang practically sitting in Seonghwa’s lap to make space for Mingi who manspreads enough for three people.
“Jeez, time seriously flies by when you’re having fun; we haven’t even done the boardwalk games.” The group hums in agreement, realizing all they really did was run around, explore, eat, and take photos because ‘dude, this seriously needs to go on Instagram, now let’s pose with this random destroyed baby doll on the floor’.
“Then let’s go, yeah? We still have all of this time.” Wooyoung suggests, taking out as many singles from his wallet that he could, and then he’s sending a sly grin over to San. “Win me something pretty, yeah?” and he says it with a flirtatious air that makes San feel something stir in his gut, like he was going to cough up flowers right on the table.
Says it naturally, as if all of their friends aren’t sitting right there and San doesn’t know if he’s overthinking it or not.
“Barf.” Yeosang deadpans, scooping out the remaining heap of vanilla ice cream from his cup. “I bet Seonghwa could win me something before San wins something for you.”
“Are we betting now?” Wooyoung’s attention focuses on the brunette who simply laughs behind the spoon in his mouth.
“What if we are? Anyone else want to join?” Yeosang looks around the table with his neatly groomed eyebrow raised in question.
“I do! I’ll win something for Hongjoong!” Mingi is exclaiming a little too loudly, holding up Hongjoong’s small hand in his, and San sends the redhead an inquisitive look to which the latter looks away from.
“Guess I’ll play; I’ll win something for Yunho.” Jongho says, patting his muscle as if this was a game of strength and not sheer luck on some sticky fair boardwalk.
“Then it’s settled: San, Seonghwa, Mingi and Jongho will fight for our honor at the boardwalk. Last one to win their lover something has to buy all of us candied apples.”
That’s how they find themselves in front of a whack-a-mole machine, each pair in front of their selected machine, and San doesn’t understand why his heart is racing so fast, banging against his ribs like a prisoner begging to be freed.
Maybe it’s because Wooyoung is hugging him from behind, chin resting on his shoulder while the (clearly) bored employee counts their money and makes their way around, turning on each machine.
Yunho’s hands are on Jongho’s shoulders and he is goading him on, saying something along the lines of ‘You can do it, Jongie!’ . Yeosang is giving Seonghwa what can only be best described as bedroom eyes while he whispers something indiscernible to him, smiles coyly while Seonghwa smiles like a love sick fool. Mingi’s cheeks are almost as red as Hongjoong’s hair, goofy smile plastered on his face even if he didn’t want it to be, the shorter holding Mingi’s hand that grips the mallet tightly, smiling at the taller encouragingly.
“You can do it.” Hongjoong says, and it’s said in a way that San has never heard from the redhead; soft, assuring, gentle.
Lovingly.
San doesn’t have much time to ponder on that, because Wooyoung is pressing his lips near his ear and San freezes up, chest tight, and he wonders if it’s obvious that his nerves are so blatantly on fire.
“Win something for me, yeah, sweetheart?” Wooyoung asks, fingers pressing playfully into San’s stomach and all San can do is laugh awkwardly.
“I’ll try,” he starts, but then the machines are lighting up, bright and obnoxious, and someone (Mingi) is screaming, and the moles are popping up for them all to hit.
San tries to focus but it all passes in a blur; all bright colors and excited shouting and Wooyoung’s words driving him to hit the poor inanimate moles harder and harder, and San is sure he is about to win when--
“WINNER!” The employee is shouting, and everything is numbingly loud when San looks up to see Mingi cheering, hands in the air while Hongjoong picks out what he wants (a giraffe, how cheesy, San thinks), but then Hongjoong is turning back to Mingi and the taller is leaning down, planting a fat kiss against Hongjoong’s lips, and San almost screams at the top of his lungs.
San doesn’t even know how to piece everything together in his brain (are they dating? Was this just Mingi being bold? If they are dating, how long has it been? Why didn’t Hongjoong tell me? ), but before he can even get a word out he looks away, pretends he didn’t even see it happen, ignores the weird feeling that settles in his chest.
“Guess it’s just me and the two losers, huh?” San forces a grin on his face to which Seonghwa and Jongho respond.
“Big talk from the one who is going to have to buy us those apples.” Seonghwa snips, shaking his hair from his eyes as they pay the worker once again.
It goes on like this and in the second round Seonghwa wins, giving Yeosang whatever he wants ( might as well have been his heart, San thinks almost bitterly), and then it’s Jongho versus San, and San isn’t sure if he is confident in what is going to happen.
Yunho sticks his tongue out playfully and Wooyoung gives him the middle finger in return before turning to San.
“You know, it’s okay if we don’t win.” He says lowly, hand idly tracing the expanse of San’s chest.
“No.” San says almost instantly, turning to Wooyoung who gives him a look. “I said I would win something for you, so I am.” Then he is taking Wooyoung’s hand in his and smiles, wondering if it’d be too intimate if he pressed kisses against the others' knuckles. “Which one do you want?”
Wooyoung smiles at that, blaring colors of yellow blue and red painting his skin as he looks up, eyeing the array of toys that adorn the top of the booth.
“I want the walrus.” He says finally, looking back at San with sparkling eyes and cheeks that puff up with how hard he’s smiling.
San wants; wants to hug Wooyoung, wants to kiss Wooyoung, wants to love Wooyoung.
It’s silent in the raucous laughter around them, only the two of them existing in San’s mind.
“Okay, I’ll get it for you.” It comes out quieter than San intends it to, somehow a little more intimate, as if San was promising to give Wooyoung his heart and not a stuffed Walrus.
Wooyoung gives a bashful smile and San can feel his heart and stomach compete for who can go crazy faster, and then Wooyoung is tucking some of San’s hair behind his ear, and San wants to kiss him, wants to just throw the stupid mallet to the side (or at Yunho, who keeps teasing) and kiss Wooyoung until he can’t breathe.
“Players ready?” The employee asks, snapping San back into reality as he turns to them and nods, trying to calm his heart from giving him a stroke with how fast his blood is pumping.
“Born ready!” Yunho exclaims, as if he is the one playing and not Jongho.
Then, the whistle is being blown, and suddenly San can’t hear anything.
Someone is cheering that isn’t Wooyoung, and everything is both incredibly fast and dizzyingly slow, and San feels like this is going on forever , before the lights are blaring and someone is shouting and there are groans of disappointment.
“Congrats, kid.” The employee is talking but San doesn’t know to who, eyes still focused on the holes those stupid little moles popped out of. “Which one do you want?”
San doesn’t have enough time to even process the question before Wooyoung is exclaiming loudly.
“The walrus!” He practically yells, jumping from excitement as if he won the biggest prize there was, and then it all finally catches up to San when he looks up to see the employee giving Wooyoung the toy.
“San, look!” Wooyoung is exclaiming, giggling before he wraps San in a crushing hug that has the older staggering. “You won it for me Sannie! I knew you could do it!” Wooyoung is so loud , San thinks, but it’s what makes Wooyoung so incredibly endearing.
Jongho is whining in the background and Yunho is trying to calm him down, hugging him like a mother would a crying child, and San thinks twice before he taunts.
Wooyoung is still holding onto San, face hidden in the valley of San's neck, pressing his lips gently over and over on the constellation there before he asks, “Can I sleep over your house tonight?” and before San could even think otherwise, he’s whispering out a silent yes .
A familiar feeling settles in San’s chest again, like flowers are blooming, except they dance across his skin now, petals kissing honey.
San closes his eyes (and heart) before he can come to terms with what that means.
------
“So, Hongjoong, Mingi, what was that all about back there?” Yeosang asks around a mouthful of candied apple, causing Hongjoong to cough loudly.
“Hongjoong is my boyfriend!” Mingi responds a little too loudly, cheeks red even in the dark of the night. “I like him and I won him a gift so I kissed him!” Hongjoong looks like he is going to die.
“When were you planning on telling us?” San asks, trying to hide the underlying tension in his voice.
“I don’t know,” Hongjoong says, hiding his face behind his little hands. “I didn’t expect all of this to happen today, I was kind of hoping to do this later?”
“No better time than the present, babe.” Mingi chirps, leaning down to give Hongjoong a kiss that was surely too sticky and too sweet.
San doesn’t know how to feel.
“Well, I’m happy for you guys.” San says instead, and it’s the truth, but he isn’t sure why he feels off put. “It was about time; if I had to hear Hongjoong cry about how much he liked you one more time--”
“Okay! That’s enough! Next topic!” Hongjoong is shouting, torn between trying to hide and trying to choke San out. The rest laugh in agreement, putting on their best imitation of either Mingi or Hongjoong, and the two cringe in embarrassment.
“You guys are cute though,” Yunho waggles his eyebrows. “It’s like a king-size Snicker falling in love with those baby bite-size ones you get for Halloween.”
“Could you not think of a better comparison?” Hongjoong sighs, running a hand through his hair.
“I don’t know? It’s not every day you see a giant fall in love with a baby.”
Hongjoong beams his plastic wrapper at Yunho.
Everyone is laughing and San wonders for a moment if maybe this is what it would be like if he and Wooyoung were a real couple, if everything would be the same, if everything would be comfortable.
There’s a nudge at his side and Wooyoung is eyeing him while he munches loudly on his sweet.
Are you okay? The question is evident on his features and San is quick to nod.
Everyone is chattering and Wooyoung looks away.
They don’t bring it back up.
-------
Except they do, when Wooyoung is changing out of his street clothes and into his (San’s) pajamas, the older noting the way the thin sleep pants pool around Wooyoung’s ankles yet strain at his thighs.
“Are you okay?” Wooyoung is asking, tugging an oversized t-shirt over his head while San makes space on his bed to fit the both of them.
“Me? I’m fine; why?” The younger doesn’t answer for a bit, taking the time to securely wrap the remainder of his tooth-rotting treat.
“You seemed kind of weird back there, when we found out Joong and Mingi were dating.” He moves from fiddling with the wrapping of the apple to picking at non-existent particles on the walrus plush. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I am.” San begins, but he pauses, picking at the frayed edges of his blanket, faded due to years of use, unsure of what to say.
I’m upset Hongjoong didn’t tell me.
“Are you sure?” The lights are turning off and Wooyoung is left padding in the dark, footsteps light as he approaches San, the latter standing up to hold him steady. “You know you can talk to me, Sannie.” The bed is dipping under his weight, San settling in beside him.
It’s dark except for the puddles of cold light that seep through the curtains, soaking whatever they touch with wet light.
“I don’t know, Woo.” There is some shuffling while they get under the blanket, the air conditioner making the room colder than it should. “I just feel upset I guess.”
Wooyoung is still holding onto the walrus and San can’t help but blush, watching as the younger stretches it in his hands while he waits for a response.
“Is it because he didn’t tell you about his relationship?” Even in the dark San knows Wooyoung is looking into his eyes, searching, and San hates how well Wooyoung knows him.
“Yeah.” He says it quietly and realizes just how stupid it sounds. “I know I shouldn’t be mad at him; it’s his business, and I’m not him or Mingi, and I am not even his best friend, but I just feel so stupid --”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Sannie,” There are fingers at San’s lips and he can feel his eyes soften. “You aren’t stupid, sweetheart.” and God, Wooyoung’s voice is so delicate that San swears he feels flower petals on his skin again. “It’s okay to be upset, San. Just talk to him about it, okay?” He’s pressing closer to San, face to face with him while he squishes the doll between them.
“I…” I don’t want him to get mad at me.
Wooyoung brushes back some hair from San’s eyes and smiles so sweetly that the older feels his teeth ache.
“It’s okay, he won’t get mad at you, and if he does just let me know, I’ll kick his ass for you.” San actually laughs at that and Wooyoung follows him, smiling bright amidst the dark.
“Thank you for caring, Woo.” He says finally, wrapping an arm around the shorter to bring him closer, faces a hairsbreadth apart.
“Of course, sweetheart.” The response is quiet with an air of humor, smile still on Wooyoung’s face, fingers never really leaving the space of San’s lips, tracing idly. “Also, I want to say thank you for today; it was really fun.”
San holds onto Wooyoung’s wrist and kisses his fingers softly, ignoring how stupidly affectionate it may have seemed.
“What do you mean? You planned the hangout! If anyone is to be thanked, it’s you.”
“No, I know I’m great--” San jabs his side playfully and Wooyoung squeaks. “It’s just, y’know, you won this thing for me even though you didn’t have to. It made me really happy.” A pause, and then, quieter, “It’s the first time someone won something for me, so thank you.”
It’s weirdly comforting, San realizes, coming to terms with love.
He feels it all over, the petals adorning his skin, and realizes that Wooyoung is the bouquet in his arms, chrysanthemums and tulips dropping their pretty, saturated petals all across San’s honey skin.
It isn’t groundbreaking or mind shattering like in the movies -- San has known, he’s always known he was in love -- but rather it’s gentle, like a reminder or a promise, when he looks at Wooyoung and feels the cosmos and wind-flowers blooming behind his ribcage in vivid colors.
In the darkness of the room, where small puddles of light caress their skin, Wooyoung is beautiful.
“Of course,” He is reaching up to pet Wooyoung’s cheek before he can stop himself. “I’ll win whatever you want, Woo.” and then the younger is giggling, bright like citrus, and San can taste it. “Whenever you want, let’s go back, I’ll win you whatever you want.”
“And what if I want the biggest prize, from the most rigged game there is?”
And without a doubt in his mind San is smiling, pinching Wooyoung’s cheek softly. “I’ll play until I go broke.”
“Really?” It’s Wooyoung’s turn to hold San’s hand, gently pressing his lips to San’s knuckles. “You’d do that for lil’ ol’ me?”
I think I’d commit a felony for you , San thinks, skin warming wherever Wooyoung presses his lips.
“Of course.” San knows his eyes are shining with unbridled love, wonders if Wooyoung can see it, too. “I’d do anything for you.”
Wooyoung hums at that in the form of an answer, opts to wrap San in a hug, face pressed against the column of San’s neck.
“Thank you, Sannie.” Then, “Love you.”
San knows it’s meant platonically but he can’t help the way his stomach flips a million times, competing with his heart in some deluded race.
“Love you, too.” His response is spoken quietly into the crown of Wooyoung’s head.
It’s only after Wooyoung presses a series of soft kisses against San’s skin that the former falls asleep, breath rising and falling slowly in San’s arms, finally dragging San down with him.
--------------------------
“You really like my neck, don’t you?” San laughs as Wooyoung kisses at his neck lazily, hand squeezing at San’s chest in retaliation. “Come on, Woo, no marks; we are still in my house.”
There is a sound of disapproval and then Wooyoung is pulling away, face still puffy from sleep despite the morning routine San forced the younger to do (because Wooyoung is a gremlin and suggested they stay in bed all day instead of at least freshening up and eating something).
“I want to see your pretty skin red because of me.” He whines as he places a hand on San’s chest to keep him down against the pillows. “Just one?”
“Wooyoung,” San’s voice is stern even though his stomach lurches. “ Even if you leave one, my mom is going to get suspicious.”
“Then let me put it somewhere she won’t be able to see.” Wooyoung is sitting on him now, licking his lips when he goes back to staring at San’s neck. “Please, sweetheart?”
San prays that Wooyoung doesn’t feel his dick jump.
He doesn’t answer for a moment, thinking over the pros and cons, before he nods.
“You can, but nowhere on my neck, and it has to be able to be covered by a shirt, okay?” Wooyoung affirms this with a cute yes , making quick work of San’s tank top and bunching it up around his chin.
San’s nipples are already hard, skin prickled by the air conditioner, Wooyoung taking no time to suck one into his mouth and moan sweetly.
“Wooyoung!” San hisses, instantly moving to shove at the younger’s head before he’s stifling a moan, pressing his legs together. “Woo, come on, you know I’m sensitive!”
“I know,” He stops sucking and decides to lick instead, tongue flat against San’s sweaty skin. “I like seeing you all desperate.” and man, if San was ever going to consider risking it, this was the moment.
“You’re so mean,” he huffs instead, heart kicking up when Wooyoung smiles at him with his pretty, swollen lips.
“You don’t know ‘mean’, sweetheart.” Wooyoung says, pulling himself up to face San at eye level. “You’re lucky I like you so much, or I’d have been a real pain for you, y’know?” And then San thinks they’re going to kiss, because their lips are so close, and everything feels hot in this overly air-conditioned room, and maybe Wooyoung has been staring at his lips, and--
“Sannie, Wooyoungie, how are you two doing?”
The moment is absolutely murded, stabbed fifty times and kicked in a dumpster to rot, and San swears he almost punches Wooyoung in the face (by mistake, of course) with how fast he scrambles to throw the younger off of him and cover his chest and make it seem like they totally weren’t getting frisky at (he checks the clock briefly in his panic) one in the afternoon.
“We are doing okay!” San calls out, walking over to his air-conditioner to turn it off, just so he can keep his hands busy, hoping his voice doesn’t waver as much as he feels it.
The door is opening then and his mother is poking her head inside, sweet smile on her face as she greets Wooyoung.
“I’m going to the store, do you two want anything?” Wooyoung looks at San expectantly and San nods, knowing that no matter how much Wooyoung comes here he just can’t ask for things ( It’s rude, he told San once, crossing his arms. I can’t just ask your sweet little hard working mother to buy me stuff! Then, with a cheesy grin, That’s why you have to ask her for stuff. You’re her kid, y’know?).
“Maybe just snacks?” San eyes Wooyoung who smiles in response. “Only if that’s good with you, though.” His mother nods and enters the room to hug them both, planting a kiss on both of their cheeks with an I love you boys! before she is leaving and closing the door behind her.
San takes no time to turn to Wooyoung, cheeks so hot it hurts.
“Dude that was so close! What if she just walked in on us like that!” Wooyoung is up in an instant and holding San’s face, cradling it gently, as if San were a pretty little ornament and easy to break.
“Baby, sweetheart, calm down,” the hands are moving to his neck, then his chest, resting right over his heart before spreading apart to rest against his chest. “I’m sorry, San. I should have listened to you.”
San’s back is pressed uncomfortably against the air conditioner, but with Wooyoung looking at him with a soft pout and pretty eyes, San figures it’s worth it.
“I’m not mad,” San says just to clarify (because he isn’t , he’s never mad, not when it comes to Wooyoung), mind swimming with the desire to touch, hands itching with it against his side. “I’m just… we should really ever do stuff at your place, y’know? It’s safer there.”
“I understand.” Wooyoung says, but he seems distant, focusing on the broad expanse of San’s chest under his fingers. “Whatever you wanna do.”
San wants to respond, but then he is closing his mouth and touching, closing his hand delicately around Wooyoung’s.
It’s always Wooyoung doing what I want, he thinks, suddenly feeling guilty.
“I mean,” Wooyoung looks up again, San noting the height he has gained over the younger over time. “We can do what you want, too.”
The shorter hums quietly and licks his lips before he presses a chaste kiss to San’s chin, his cheek, the corner of his lips, and San suddenly feels dizzy.
“Well… your mother said she was going to be gone for a while, right?” Another kiss to San’s neck and there is ringing in his ears. “I kind of want to pick up where we left off, kind of want to fuck around, if that’s okay with you?” Wooyoung’s hands are traveling, goosebumps sprouting in their wake.
San wonders if he’s pathetic, going against his word so quickly with just the thought of Wooyoung showering him with attention, but he’s agreeing anyway, back finding its way back to the mattress with Wooyoung on top of him.
“Just let me know if you want to stop, okay?” Wooyoung asks, bunching San’s shirt up again around his chin and admiring the slightly pink skin surrounding his nipple from when Wooyoung sucked it earlier.
“Can I touch you?” San asks instead, playing with the hem of his shirt that adorns Wooyoung’s caramel skin.
There’s a laugh and an overly sweet of course from Wooyoung as he lifts the shirt over his head and San is moaning quietly at just the sight of him, hands desperate to just touch, so he does.
He’s sitting up, reaching forward, and he feels dizzy, dizzy, dizzy, remembers he can’t kiss Wooyoung, remembers he made up that stupid rule in the first place, and settles on the skin of Wooyoung’s neck when he grabs a handful of soft, soft skin.
Where San is hard, Wooyoung is soft.
Where San is thin, Wooyoung is thick.
And San swears, nothing feels as good as Wooyoung’s skin.
“Eager, aren’t we?” Comes his voice, laced with humor and a bit of something else when San squeezes at his chest with something akin to desperation.
Whenever they do… whatever this is, San is big enough to admit that maybe he let’s Wooyoung do everything; all of the touching, all of the kissing, all of the talking.
With good reason, though, because San is (admittedly) desperate and he isn’t sure he can control himself around Wooyoung.
“Your skin is so soft…” It’s said like an afterthought against the warmth of Wooyoung’s shoulder, sun-kissed skin prickling with goosebumps despite the heat of the room. “I swear I could kiss it all day. I see why you like it so much.” Another kiss to Wooyoung’s neck and then San is moving lower, craning his neck so that he can kiss at the skin of Wooyoung’s clavicle.
San feels so dizzy, like everything is moving too fast and yet excruciatingly slow at the same time and all his brain can throw up is touch, touch, touch; touch Wooyoung with whatever he can, his hands, lips, tongue, and San just wants more.
Wooyoung’s resulting sound is breathy as he leans back while San follows, following Wooyoung all the way down and pressing his back on the mattress.
“Huh, I really thought I would be the one to have you in this position,” Wooyoung sounds breathless and San is surprised the words even registered their way in his head. “I’m not going to complain though-- ah, yes,” San is sucking on Wooyoung’s nipple this time, squeezing at the other and Wooyoung makes such a sweet sound that San feels his cock already throb at a half-chub in his shorts.
“San, what the fuck, that feels really good --” The sentence melts into a wet moan when San pulls off to look Wooyoung in the eye and he yearns ; but for what? To kiss, to touch, to fuck?
San can’t even keep up with his thoughts, unable to keep up with what his brain wants, loud rushing in his ears at the sight of Wooyoung underneath him, vulnerable and beautiful and fuck, Wooyoung is beautiful.
“Can I touch you?” He can hear himself past the flooding in his ears and his head is swimming with the beauty of Wooyoung, everything is pretty bokeh lights around Wooyoung’s ridiculously beautiful face and he’s the only thing in sight.
San’s heart lurches in his chest and he swears he’s about to cough up flowers.
“Of course, of course, touch me baby, make me cum, okay?” Wooyoung licks his lips and guides San’s hand to his clothed cock that strains in the confines of his (San’s) sleep pants (the taller swallows so hard it hurts).
They’ve done this so many times and yet San is never used to the weight of Wooyoung in his hand, thick and heavy and San wants it in his mouth, in him , and he ruts pathetically against Wooyoung’s thick thigh with a breathy moan at just the thought of it.
“Yeah, that’s it baby, use your pretty hands for me.” Wooyoung whispers, reaching out and running a hand through the inky pool of San’s hair, all damp and humid from the heat in the room, pushing it from San’s forehead and forcing the older to look at him when he licks and bites his lip because he knows San loves it.
I want to kiss you, San thinks, moving to kiss his cheek instead, hand stroking lazily around Wooyoung’s length, precum already spilling lazily from the slit. I want to ride you and have you kiss me while I do it.
He moans again, right against Wooyoung’s cheek, grinding down harder with a strangled noise that has the younger groaning in content.
“I love seeing you like this, Sannie, all flushed and desperate,” Wooyoung pulls at the overgrown hair at San’s nape, navigating him, lips dangerously close and San exhales shakily against them. “I want to fuck you one day, wanna fuck you so hard until you’re full of my cum, y’know that, right?” Wooyoung wets his lips again and San can feel the ghost of it against his own, head absolutely spinning with a mix of water and hot air and he can’t breathe, his cock oozing a ridiculous amount of precum and surely ruining his shorts.
“I’m sure you want that, don’t you?” Wooyoung asks, thrusting lazily into San’s hand that, by some magic, keeps stroking, messy and wet and San nods frantically.
“I want that, I do, I do.” He swallows again, presses a too-wet kiss against Wooyoung’s cheek to distract himself from his lips. “I want you to fuck me, Woo, I want it so bad.” and Wooyoung laughs, airy and tight, as if he can’t breathe either.
“Hold on, fuck, baby,” He’s patting at San’s hand in his shorts, scrunching his face together. “I’m going to cum, wait.” and San does, hand stilling in Wooyoung’s shorts, the heat in the room absolutely unbearable, no doubt a terrible, sweaty imprint on his sheets.
“Are you okay?” He croaks out, running his disgustingly wet hand across the soft skin of Wooyoung’s sweaty tummy.
“Of course I am, baby, come here.” San obeys, allows Wooyoung to pull him in close and kiss his cheeks sweetly. “I wanna cum with you, sweetheart.” The words are breathed shallowly against San’s neck and he reddens more than he thought possible.
“Yes, shit, yeah,” he answers, moving to remove his shorts just enough to release his straining cock, watching as Wooyoung eyes him.
Even though it’s evident, San hopes Wooyoung doesn’t mention how much he is shaking when he holds them together in his hand, skin on skin, and he moans when he watches his cock dribble precum onto Wooyoung’s.
“That’s it baby, make us feel good.” Wooyoung is so chatty and San huffs, heart beating too fast to catch up with his lungs when he looks at the other.
There’s a halo of messy black hair surrounding Wooyoung’s head, splayed across the sheets like some sort of wet-dream-turned-reality, and San is awestruck.
There is so much skin, tanned and pretty from hours in the sun and soft , pretty little moles adorning caramel skin like kisses of sunlight and San feels delirious with how hard his heart hammers in his chest.
Beautiful .
Wooyoung is beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
“You’re so pretty, Sannie.” Wooyoung’s lips are bitten red, hand pawing at San’s chest. “So, so pretty, baby.” and San feels like laughing at the irony of it all.
“Only for you,” San breathes out instead, finding Wooyoung’s hand in his daze and holding onto it like a lifeline when he starts to stroke their lengths together, messy and wet and perfect . “Only pretty like this for you. Only you.” There is a moan and San doesn’t even know from who, head loud with so much of everything that he just exists, simply feeling it all.
“My beautiful baby.” Wooyoung is kissing his cheeks again and San lets him, digging his thumb into their slits with a wet moan. “Only mine, only mine.”
San feels overwhelmed in the best way, surrounded by Wooyoung and taking as much as he can; his scent, his pretty moans, his soft skin, the taste of him, and it’s a miracle he is still going, tugging at their weeping cocks despite the strain in his arm.
“Only yours.” He breathes out, feeling the familiar coil in his stomach expand, begging to snap, and he feels like he is going to pass out if he doesn’t cum soon. “I’m yours.” I’m in love with you, he thinks, wants to just spit the words out and lay them out there, but he holds his tongue and shuts his eyes instead.
“Do you mean it?”
I’ve meant it from the start.
“Of course.”
It’s unexpected, but Wooyoung is cumming, hot and white and so much all over San’s hand and his own soft stomach, voice airy and light while his hand squeezes tightly at the hair on San’s nape.
“That-- Wooyoung, fuck, that was really hot.” He’s still stroking them together, so, so close, before the younger is pulling him in closer with a breathy voice, lips painfully close and perfect and--
“Come on, Sannie, cum on me, baby.”
It takes every fiber of self restraint in probably the entire universe for San to not kiss Wooyoung when he cums, loud and explosive and maybe he does black out for a second, because suddenly he’s lying against the shorter, still holding their softening lengths in his hand while his shirt sticks their skin together, messy with cum and sweat.
Wooyoung doesn’t seem to mind, though. His hand is still in San’s hair, petting him almost lovingly, fingernails massaging his scalp with a gentle pressure that has San purring.
“Are you okay, baby?” He asks quietly, pressing a chaste kiss to San’s forehead.
“Yeah.” Silence. “It felt really good.”
Wooyoung laughs so prettily that San feels sick, like his stomach is overflowing with molasses and suffocating him in the sweetest way possible.
“You’re too cute, Choi San.”
San can barely hear him, the rushing in his ears loud like the pounding in his chest when he sits up to look at Wooyoung, stomach shining with sweat and their combined cum.
“You’re so pretty.” San says around an exhale, can feel the familiar petals on his skin when Wooyoung smiles at him, eyes little crescents that cut a hole into San’s heart.
“I like it when you say that.” Wooyoung admits, hand idly playing in the mess on his skin. “I like it when you say that I’m pretty.” and San actually laughs at that because he could write an entire thesaurus on words he finds Wooyoung synonymous with.
“Guess I have to compliment you all the time now, huh?” Wooyoung hums in response, nudging San with his bare foot and a pout.
It’s comfortably quiet after that, San shedding his own shirt to clean Wooyoung’s stomach before he leans down to kiss his skin and causing the younger to sigh sweetly.
There’s a spot right underneath Wooyoung’s chest that San stops at, kissing at it softly before he sucks a mark against the soft skin, earning him a shocked sound from Wooyoung.
“You wanted to mark me so bad, so I kind of wanted to do the same to you.” He says sheepishly, admiring the splotchy red mark on Wooyoung that was sure to leave in a couple of hours, but it makes his heart race and his cheeks redden with adoration.
“That’s right, I didn’t even get to do that, come here!” San squeaks out a laugh when Wooyoung reaches out for him, giggling cutely when he wrestles San back against the mattress and kisses his sweaty skin, small huffs of air tickling him even more before his phone is vibrating loudly against his night stand, startling them both.
He looks at the Caller ID titled Mom! :) and picks up, hoping his voice isn’t as winded as it feels.
“Yeah, mom?”
“Hi darling!” Her voice is cheery as it crackles in through the receiver. “I realized I had more to do than I thought, so I’ll be out a little longer, okay? Be safe with Wooyoungie! I’ll see you.”
“Okay mom, love you.” He hangs up after she gives back a sweet ‘love you too, darling! ’, looking at Wooyoung. “She’s going to be gone for longer than we thought.”
A devilish grin is slapped on Wooyoung’s face, hands gripping at San’s waist playfully.
“Wanna continue this in the shower?”
San is more than happy to be dragged by Wooyoung into the hallway, laughter echoing off the empty walls before they shut the bathroom door behind them.
----------------------------
“Did you want to talk to me?” Hongjoong is shaking his hair out when he sits across from San at some outside cafe that the latter wasn’t bothered enough to take the name of.
San hadn’t seen Hongjoong since the carnival, much less spoken to him since then, skin prickling despite the overbearing summer heat.
“Ah yeah, I did.” He takes a ridiculously long sip of coffee just to do something else with his mouth besides talking. Hongjoong is watching him expectantly, sipping at his ice water and waiting for San to speak and the younger just sighs, swirling his straw in his watery iced coffee.
“Okay, I guess I haven’t been fully honest with you, and I guess I’ve been ignoring you.”
“I’ve noticed.” Hongjoong takes another sip of water and San cringes.
“I know it’s like, really stupid of me to do that for no real reason, but I guess I felt weird? About like, you know, you and Mingi.” Hongjoong makes a face and San stammers to cover his tracks before the redhead can say anything. “Wait! Let me rephrase that; I don’t mind that you two are dating! In fact I am like, really happy for you guys, I just… I feel weird because you kind of kept it a secret from me?” It’s said more like a question than a statement and San wants to evaporate in the hot summer sun when Hongjoong doesn’t answer immediately. “Not that you had to tell me! I know it’s your business and--”
“San, Sannie,” Hongjoong cuts him off with a wave of his hand and a furrowed brow and San shuts up. “Dude, it’s fine. I kind of figured that’s why you were being weird with me and I don’t blame you. I was the one always whining and crying to you about Mingi and you were, albeit annoying , really supportive of me and dealt with my crying all the time and I really appreciate you.
“So I understand why you were all weird and I didn’t know how to bring it up, either, so I kind of just gave you space until you were ready to talk about it. You’re right, I should have told you about it, y’know? But to be fair, I didn’t even expect anything to happen between us, I guess I was in denial about all of it, so I didn’t want to jump the gun and be all ‘Hey San! Mingi and I are dating and in love!’ and then end up breaking it off in a week or something.” Hongjoong pauses to take another long drink of water, cheeks dusted pink.
“Are you in love with Mingi?” San asks, heart thudding in excitement.
Hongjoong chokes on his drink, spitting it over the table right as the waitress walks over, concerned smile on her face as she asks if they’re ready to order.
San orders for Hongjoong and himself, pancakes and something else he can’t really remember, just knows it sounded good enough to buy. When she walks away, Hongjoong makes a strangled kind of sound, face red.
“I don’t know if I would call it love.” His words are dodgy and San laughs, missing this feeling, missing Hongjoong. “We’ve only been dating for like a month and a half now, how would I even know what love feels like?”
“I guess it’s different for everyone, right? It’s not the same for each and every person.” San sips at his coffee again and then hums. “Also, I really am sorry for being so silly and ignoring you and stuff. I didn’t really consider all of that and really, I’m sorry Joongie. I missed you like crazy.” Hongjoong perks up, smiles big and toothy and all San can think about is if Mingi makes Hongjoong cry he’s going to beat the silver hair dye out of him.
“I missed you too, you dork.” He reaches over to pinch San’s cheek and then laughs brightly. “No more secrets from now on, yeah? We tell eachother how we are feeling okay?” San responds with an overly cute yes right as their food is placed in front of them, nodding to the waitress before raising an eyebrow at Hongjoong.
“So… how is everything with Mingi? Is he big?”
Hongjoong covers his face with one hand and continues to shovel eggs into his mouth to avoid answering, even when San nudges him playfully and laughs out an exasperated you just said no more secrets!
“Well what do you expect from him?” Hongjoong isn’t looking at San, the melting butter on his pancakes suddenly extremely interesting. “To answer your question: yes, he is.”
San whistles. “Size queen Joongie.”
“You’re lucky we’re in public or I’d kill you right now.” Says the redhead over a mouthful of hashbrowns.
“Hey I’m not judging you, go climb your tree like the little animal you are. I’m proud of you.” San pats the redhead's shoulder, actively ignoring the deadpan glare thrown his way. “Besides that, does he treat you well? Are you happy with him?”
The way Hongjoong’s face blossoms into a shy, embarrassed smile -- San wouldn’t miss it for the world.
“He makes me really happy, ahh, what do I even do about this?” He rubs a small hand over his face and through his strawberry locks. “Like, sometimes he stays over my apartment and he’s sleeping and he’s just so cute I feel like I want to throw up.” An embarrassed laugh bubbles its way out of Hongjoong’s chest before he shuts himself up with a drink of water that’s mainly just melted ice at this point.
“Sounds like Joongie is in love.” San says around the sticky sweet pancake in his mouth, watching the older grin like a love sick fool and wonders if that’s what he looks like when he talks about Wooyoung.
“I really don’t want to be.” He’s laughing but he looks sad. “I’m graduating at the end of summer and like, I don’t know how that is going to go, and I know I live here and everything but I’ll have to get a job while he is in school, and what if I have to move because of my job? What will happen with our relationship?” He’s clearly spiraling and San doesn’t even know how to respond. “I don’t think I can handle heartbreak like that, Sannie.”
“You’re overthinking it, Joongie.” Replies San, famed overthinker. “Just take it one day at a time, or else when you finally graduate, you’re going to realize you wasted all of your time overthinking this instead of spending all your time with Mingi.” Hongjoong sighs and nods, munching idly on a strip of bacon.
“I guess you’re right.” He wipes his mouth, then, “The future is just really scary to think about.” San makes a sound of understanding, asking a nearby waitress for another refill of drinks before Hongjoong continues. “Besides that, how are you and Wooyoung? You guys finally dating yet or what?”
It’s San’s turn to choke and he wonders just how much Hongjoong even knows.
“What do you mean?” He asks instead, hoping his cheeks aren’t flushed red.
“You guys are like two peas in a pod, San, and it’s no secret that you like him.” San wants to hide under the table and out of sight.
It’s true that San has maybe gushed to Hongjoong about how much he liked Wooyoung every other time he got drunk during their sophomore year, and maybe San wasn’t the best at hiding his favoritism for Wooyoung, but he still feels ridiculously embarrassed anyway.
He wants to dodge the question like he always does, but Hongjoong’s no secrets rings loudly in his head and he swears at himself for agreeing to that.
“Yeah I like him and all, but like, y’know, we aren’t like that.” Eggs get shifted across his plate, swimming in small puddles of maple syrup. “Is it lame to say I just came to terms with it? With being in love-- with him, I mean.” San peeks up for a moment and Hongjoong looks surprised, eyes wide as plates.
“You’re in love with him?” Hisses the redhead, leaning down closer towards the table as if it was some sort of top secret confidential information. “Since when? How do you know? Why don’t you tell him?” The taller laughs at the reaction, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.
“I think I’ve always been in love with him, y’know?” It sounds funny coming out of his mouth so he busies himself with the last bit of food in front of him, wondering how much he could ration it before he has none left and has to just talk. “Even when I would hook up with other people and stuff, I would always think about how much better it would be if I were with him; he’s pretty and beautiful and he knows how I am and doesn’t expect anything from me and he’s so sweet with me--”
“Jeez, you’re so corny San, I feel like I have a cavity with how sweet you are.” Hongjoong pretends to be repulsed and San laughs. “You make it seem like you two hooked up with how you describe him.”
“We haven’t!” Guilt stirs in San’s chest but he can’t help it. “I just… I know he would treat me well and stuff. I came to terms with it after the carnival, at night time. We went back to my house because he wanted to sleep over, and he smiled at me, and I swore I could feel flowers all over me, like I was in the prettiest garden in the world and he was the biggest bouquet to hold and he got all of his pretty petals on my skin, but it’s okay, because they’re beautiful and they came from him, so I didn’t mind.”
“Dude…” Hongjoong runs a hand through his hair again and his expression is inexplicably soft. “What the fuck, dude? That’s so… innocent? Cute? And you didn’t kiss him or anything?”
I wish .
“No, we just went to sleep after that and I swear my heart was going crazy in my chest. It’s like he just sits there and fills my ribs with the prettiest flowers imaginable.”
“I swear, you’re going to make me throw up, but like, in a good way if you keep being this cute.” Hongjoong threatens, reaching to take San’s empty plate and stack it on his own, cleaning the table with a napkin he wet with the condensation of his cup. “I think you should tell him how you feel; maybe not as in depth as you told me, but like, at least get it off of your chest?”
“No can do, Joong.” The shorter gives him a look and San can only look elsewhere. “I like our friendship as it is; I’d rather be his friend and keep everything bottled up and not cry my eyes out because I ruined our friendship because my heart is too ridiculously sensitive and can’t handle rejection.” The waitress is back and she’s collecting the plates, handing the two their checks.
“You might be overthinking it, San. I’m pretty sure Wooyoung likes you too, if him clinging to you and bothering you any chance he can get is anything to go by.” They hand back their checks with a smile. “I thought Mingi didn’t like me that way and now he’s saved on my phone as Mingi with like, three heart emojis after it. Speaking of Mingi--” The shorter takes out his phone and makes a hissing sound. “I am supposed to meet him in like, forty minutes. I have to go after this, okay?” When their cards are returned, they sign messily and leave a tip, smiling at the waitress before they go.
“Thanks for talking with me today.” San says with a hug, wrapping his arms around the smaller, who huffs out with faux irritance.
“Thank you for inviting me, I’m glad we cleared the air.” The redhead pinches San’s cheek and smiles brightly. “Go tell Wooyoung that he’s your pretty flower bouquet okay? I’ll text you when I get home.”
A blush blooms pretty on San’s cheek and he nudges the older. “Don’t get your ass broken by Mingi’s monster dong.”
San runs away fast enough to avoid getting hit by Hongjoong.
---------------------
There’s a cricket chirping away outside and a blue icee dripping overly sticky juice onto San’s fingers when Wooyoung starts talking.
“You know what would look really good on you?” They’re lying next to one another on Wooyoung’s bed, room smelling of sex, artificial frozen treats and maybe some weed and San actually tries thinking about it.
“Nose ring?” He replies, running his thumb gently over the bumps of Wooyoung knuckles in a mindless pattern.
“Shit, that wasn’t what I was going to say, but that would look super hot on you, too.” The shorter sits up and throws his popsicle stick in the vague direction of a trash can. “I was going to say if you, like, dyed your hair, but not all of it.” He runs a hand through San’s hair before sectioning off a piece in the front. “Like if you bleached this part white? You would seriously be so cute if you did that.” He then moves to pinch at San’s cheeks, zeroing in on the beauty mark there. “You’d be like my little skunk.”
“Skunk?” There is laughter and maybe it’s the weed but San’s heart flutters at being considered Wooyoung’s anything . “What even makes you think about this?”
“Dunno. Just figured you’d be really hot with a white stripe in your hair, like, you aren’t super old, but you’re also, like, youthful? But like, you’re also a silver fox?” San can only laugh at him again, holding onto Wooyoung’s arms.
“Yeah, okay, sure.” He sucks the last bit of juice off of his fingers and from the inside of the plastic tube. “I’ll do it.”
“Wait, really?” The excitement is all but written on Wooyoung’s round face. “Now? Should we do it now? I know how to dye hair. Remember like two years ago when I bleached all of it blonde? Oh my God, San, can I bleach your hair?”
To be fair, the night was still young, Wooyoung was extremely excited (what was San going to do, say no?), and the weed really was hitting right.
So that’s how San finds himself in the closest beauty supply store to Wooyoung’s dorm, laughing at virtually nothing, but life is good and Wooyoung is cute in San’s sweater and… what are they here for again?
“Dude, let’s get this one.” The shorter is clinging onto San’s arm with one hand and reaching for a box labeled Manic Panic Lightening Bleach Vol 40. “I hear this will make your hair like crazy white.”
Oh yeah, hair bleach.
“Okay.” Is all San replies with, kind of dizzy with Wooyoung so close to him.
“Come on let’s get some other stuff so your hair doesn’t fall out.”
San follows him blindly (but that isn’t anything new).
-------------------
“Come on, baby, you have to stop moving.” San squirms in his seat and tries to avoid getting bleach on his forehead, tries to stop the smile that forms on his face from being called baby (it doesn’t work, he smiles bright and wide anyway).
They’re sitting in Wooyoung’s room since the bathroom was too small and San wonders if this was a good idea after all.
“I can’t, I’m nervous.” He sits on his hands while Wooyoung rubs the bleach into his once black hair. “I’ve never really dyed my hair like this before.”
“You gotta live a little.” Wooyoung continues to comb it through, making sure to get the strip of hair fully coated. “You have all this pretty hair, you would look good with so many hair colors, you know that?” When he deems the strip of hair fully coated, he wraps it in a random piece of aluminum foil he found in his kitchen and sets a timer.
“Really?” San decides not to overthink about the fact that Wooyoung has thought of him in different hair colors. “I always thought I looked best in black.”
“Well, you do look amazing in black, but I think you’d make an amazing blonde, or maybe like, I dunno, if you had red streaks.” The shorter combs through the rest of San’s hair to make sure there is no bleach, or maybe he does it to distract his hands (San doesn’t know).
“You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?” San asks around a light laugh, reaching to pinch at the softness of Wooyoung’s stomach. “Have you thought of anything else you aren’t telling me?” The younger laughs under his breath and tilts San’s face upward towards him.
“I’ve thought of a lot of stuff; what do you want to know?”
Don’t get me started .
“What else do you think would look nice on me?”
“I think a better question is what wouldn’t look good on you, San. Seriously, you’re like a model, it’s sick.” He starts brushing hair away from San’s face again. “But, if you’re really so interested, I think you’d look amazing with some piercings, maybe even a tattoo or something.” He clumps all of San’s hair together as if he’s going to give him a ponytail, but decides against it at the last second.
“That’s interesting.” Is all San can really say, wonders how whipped he would be if he said ‘okay let’s get a tattoo!’
“I think you will like this look. Everyone is going to be all over you." Wooyoung smiles at him sincerely and San wonders if it's the depleting weed in his system or his pathetic little heart that make him feel sad.
But I don't want everyone all over me , San wants to say, the smile on his face deflecting the weight in his chest. The only one I want is you.
"I don't really want people all over me." San says simply, playing with the drawstring of Wooyoung's shorts, leaving it at that.
"To each their own, Choi San." With that the ringer goes off, signaling the time is done, causing Wooyoung to clap excitedly. "Yes yes let's see your ha-- oh my God."
"What happened?"
"Dude don't get mad--"
"Wooyoung you're freaking me out."
"Your hair… How do I say this? It like, fell out." San stands up so fast his head rushes, moving to the mirror Wooyoung keeps on his dresser.
There's a loud laugh and a flush on San's gullible face when he realizes that his hair is, in fact, still there, and that he actually believed Wooyoung's stupid little joke.
"Dude! Wooyoung! Don't scare me like that!" He chides, but there is no real bite to it. The other only laughs until he's bent over, peals of squeaky laughter ripping out of him.
"You should have seen your face, Sannie!" He's actually about to cry, holding himself up by sheer will power at this point. "That was amazing oh my gosh you're so gullible San."
“That’s not funny, Wooyoung. I don’t even know how my mom would react to my hair being partially bleached, I doubt she would be happy with me being partially bald.”
“Oh hush, Sannie.” Wooyoung is still laughing when he hands San a bag of hair products. “Go on, wash it out. Go and condition your hair or else it’s going to be hella gross.”
It’s ridiculous how long it takes; between San washing his hair fully and Wooyoung throwing something purple in his hair ( it’s called Pravana Vivid in Silver, Sannie, get with the times.) , but San is finally back to square one, sitting on a stool in the middle of Wooyoung’s room while the shorter stands above him and blow drys his hair.
There’s a chirp of laughter and San looks up questioningly.
“No! No looking yet. Not until I’m done.”
“Woo, my ass hurts and it’s getting late.”
“Just stay over.” There’s smoke from how hot the hairdryer is, flattening his hair. “I’m finessing your hair and I swear I should put ‘ hair dresser’ on my resume.”
“Wooyoung,” San sounds exasperated but the shorter cuts him off with the pinch of his nose.
“You can’t rush excellence, babe. Trust me, you’re going to look amazing.” and that’s it on the conversation. San sits there obediently (albeit stressed) and Wooyoung finishes the final touches on San’s hair, even attempting to style it before ultimately giving up and slathering it in a soft smelling oil because trust me, you’ll need it.
“Okay look in the mirror.” Wooyoung tries to hide the excitement in his voice but it’s evident with the way his lips scrunch up in an attempt to hide a smile.
Maybe it was some weird rule made by the Gods or something, but somehow, Wooyoung was always right.
“Dude, I look amazing.” He turns his head to the left and to the right and starts to laugh. “Wooyoung what the hell this looks awesome.”
“I know right?” He’s standing close to San, cramming himself to fit into the mirror as well. “You can style your hair back and you’re going to look like a really cool skunk.”
The taller nudges Wooyoung and makes a lighthearted sound before wrapping him in a hug.
“Thank you for turning me into a sexy skunk, Woo.”
“Not just any sexy skunk, my sexy skunk.”
There’s a rattling in San’s chest and a soiree in his stomach.
“Anyway, wanna take another hit?”
San agrees blindly.
-----------------------------
They're back on the roof again -- San is dripping in sweat while Wooyoung gnaws adamantly at his second (third?) ice pop, lips stained a muddled purple.
The sun is absolutely unbearable .
It's the hottest it's ever been, San thinks, melting into the stupid little lawn chairs that at this point have probably fused to his skin.
"Are you sure you don't want one?" Wooyoung waves a Cyclone towards San, who contemplates before rejecting the offer, not hungry. "Well you have to eat something babe, it's hot and you look like you're about to evaporate, or melt, or both."
"Why can't we just hang in your apartment?" San knows he sounds pouty but he can't help it, not when his body feels like it's baking.
"We’re always cooped up, I wanted to go outside for a change."
"Is it really considered 'outside' if it's just you and me sitting on these cheap chairs in the boiling sun on your dorms roof?" He wipes at the sweat pooling on his chest with his shirt and hisses. "I'm more sweat than I am human ."
"Yes, it’s still considered outside." Wooyoung licks sticky juice from his fingers before finishing his snack and reaching for another (San watches with rapt attention at how someone can just eat that many ice pops in a row). "Also you complain too much. Come on." Then Wooyoung is standing, wiping his hands on a nearby towel and leaving the sweet treat to hang from his lips.
San simply watches him, unsure of what Wooyoung really wants as he dries himself with his already damp tank top.
The shorter motions for him to follow again and San sighs, feigning annoyance before he's following after him (because that's all San ever does: follow follow follow, follow whatever Wooyoung wants him to do).
There's a spot on the roof; not the prettiest by far but decorated enough by the other tenants, small clothes lines adorned with clothes long forgotten and some grill that shouldn’t really be trusted, and a big enough open area to move around in, and Wooyoung stands in the center of it all (much like San’s universe) and smiles prettily before returning to the melting treat in his hand.
“What are you up to?” San asks with a hint of skepticism, but there is a smile forming on his lips before he can really stop it. Wooyoung simply shrugs, putting on his prettiest eyes, pretending as if he doesn’t know.
“Who knows?” He cleans his treat of any juice and removes it from his lips painted the weirdest shade of purple and yet looks so endearing. “Just come over here.” and San does, feet taking him until he is standing in front of Wooyoung, who looks up at him through his inky black bangs that grew too long the past couple of months.
“Okay, now what?” San doesn’t know why he’s whispering but he is, heart hammering at the sight of Wooyoung (but what else is new?), sweat beading on his skin for another reason.
“Dance with me.”
“Huh?” It’s the first word that slips past San’s lips and he can feel his cheeks heat up in embarrassment when Wooyoung giggles airly at him. “I mean, yeah, okay.”
“Don’t be so shy, Sannie.” He licks at his ice pop again before reaching out to hold San’s hand and hold it up. “Just a small Waltz, like at Seonghwa’s party. Remember?”
Of course I do, San wants to say, placing his hand at Wooyoung’s hip and pulling him closer. I remember everything with you.
“Yeah I remember; I called you a loser.” He pinches at Wooyoung’s side and the shorter makes the cutest face San has ever seen (the flower petals; they’re finding their way back up his throat).
“Yeah but I’m your loser, remember?” His smile is contagious, rubbing off on San who pulls him just a little bit closer before they spin around. “Or have you forgotten?”
“I don’t forget anything.” Not when it comes to you. “I was just making sure that you remembered.”
“Sure you were.” They spin again before Wooyoung decides to just settle on swaying back and forth to some rhythm that doesn’t exist. San isn’t sure why his heart is beating so fast (he never seems to know about anything when it comes to Wooyoung), but suddenly the overbearing heat isn’t as bad (not when Wooyoung is resting against him).
“It’s already July.” San says absently, bringing Wooyoung closer in more of an embrace than anything, Wooyoung simply humming in response. “Are your classes going okay?”
“Could be better.” Is the response before there is a kiss at San’s neck, like routine, like clockwork (and like so, San melts, putty in Wooyoung’s pretty arms). “College always sucks though.”
“Then why’d you stay?” San knows he is setting himself up for an answer he might not even get, but he can’t help but ask it anyway, heart racing and hammering against the bouquet in his chest.
“To be with you, duh.” It’s said so easily that San doesn’t register it at first.
To be with you.
To be with me.
San feels like he has to throw up, but in the best way possible.
“Oh.” San feels breathless. “I-- oh! ” San jumps when something cold touches his back, startling Wooyoung who looks up at him with round eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“Cold,” San pulls away and Wooyoung follows, both pairs of eyes landing on Wooyoung’s hand that is colored in a messy puddle of red white and blue, ice pop long forgotten and melted.
They don’t say anything, staring at Wooyoung’s hand, then at each other, before bursting into peals of childish laughter, San screaming when the other reaches forward to smear the sticky mixture on his face.
“Wooyoung, no!” San exclaims through his laughter, the cold juice dripping down his chin while Wooyoung smushes his face in his hands.
“Wooyoung yes .” He responds with the most coy grin he can muster, cheeks full with mirth and San wonders if it’s possible to fall deeper in love with someone when you’ve already hit rock bottom (what is even deeper than that?).
“I’m going to have to wash this all off.” Wooyoung hums in thought before kissing some of the juice from San’s cheek.
“Good thing I live here, then.” He smiles and it’s incredible how he outshines the sun.
San grabs at Wooyoung’s hand and before he can even think about it and kisses his fingers before licking the juice off, noticing how the colors stained Wooyoung’s fingers the lightest shade of red and blue.
“Good thing, for sure.” San replies after a moment, licking the sticky sweet juice from his lips and watching as Wooyoung followed the movement with a deep breath.
“Want to go back?” They stare at each other for what seems like forever and San feels something in his entire body switch on when Wooyoung stares at his lips.
“Yeah.” He answers finally and everything is hot, hot, hot.
The sun, his skin, the feeling in his gut.
Hot.
-----------------
Hot.
It’s the best word to describe how Wooyoung feels through the fog of San’s mind.
Wooyoung’s skin is soft, so beautifully soft, and San feels dizzy, taking his time touching the skin granted to him.
Wooyoung is on top of him, straddling San’s waist that is barely covered by the towel San used after his shower.
That’s how this started: San was taking a shower, because he was horribly sweaty, Wooyoung smeared melted ice pop all over his face, and his shirt was stained. He meant to grab spare clothes once he reached Wooyoung’s room (like he always did) but Wooyoung gave him a look and San, ever so weak, suddenly forgot all about needing clothes.
It started off slow, a simple hand on San’s bare chest when he entered the chilled room, goosebumps sprouting across his skin, his nipples hardening, from the sudden attention or the cold air, he couldn’t tell.
“You really are so pretty.” Wooyoung had said, lightly pinching at the pebbled flesh, licking his lips that still held a faint purple coloring (San hadn’t stopped staring, wondering if they still tasted as sweet).
“You’re just saying that.” San responded through a soft exhale, allowing Wooyoung to guide him through the room until he had been pushed back against the mattress, the younger simply watching him with dark eyes.
“Let me prove it to you?” Was all Wooyoung had to say for San to find himself in this situation, with a lapful of Wooyoung, almost naked, and having his neck and now chest kissed feverently.
Everything is hot: their lips, their skin, their hands; it’s all so painfully hot that San feels stifled, lungs begging for air despite the chill of the room, and it’s like he’s drunk, or sick, or both, but he knows that isn’t the case, not when Wooyoung is real and here and existing and he doesn’t feel like he’s about to fall from his own body.
“Wooyoung,” He breathes out, cupping at the other’s face softly until he’s looking up at San, eyes curtained by his bangs.
“What is it, baby?” Wooyoung sucks hard at San’s neck before he is kissing at his chin, his cheeks, and then the space near his mouth, and San can feel his heart lurch in his chest, the petals rising back up, sitting on his tongue in an attempt to burst out and ruin it all. “How do you want me? My mouth? My hands?” There is a thumb at San’s lip, dragging, and before he can think San is licking at it, sucking gently before he’s shying away.
“Neither.” He begins and suddenly he can’t really look at Wooyoung, heart hammering against the bouquet left there, right behind his ribs.
“What is it, San?” Wooyoung noses at his cheek with an open mouthed kiss and everything feels like it’s made of cotton, threatening to engulf him, to choke him in the sweetest way possible (but hasn’t that been what Wooyoung has been doing this entire time? San is no beginner to this).
“Inside.” Is what he replies with, swallowing past the petals, making sure they don’t have enough time to escape.
He can faintly register the way Wooyoung grinds slowly against him in one long, slow circle, eyes fixed on him in a way San has never seen before.
“You want me to fuck you?” He asks it as if he can’t believe the words out of San’s mouth, like he is asking for a clarification.
San can feel his entire body burn when he grabs at Wooyoung’s tank top, hoping his skin doesn’t look as red as it feels.
When San doesn’t answer, Wooyoung leans in closer to him, kissing his cheeks gently. A shuddering breath escapes San’s lips and he can’t wrap his head around why he feels so horrifically nervous.
“Tell me what you want, baby.” There is another kiss to San’s cheek, and then another to his closed eyelids, and it’s so gentle that San feels like he’s melting, melting, melting. “I need you to talk, sweetheart. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
“I want to.” San answers, moving to look at Wooyoung who watches him like he’s everything, and San can feel his chest twist with deluded satisfaction, that maybe, just maybe , he really is everything to Wooyoung. “I want you to fuck me, Wooyoung, come on.” He paws at the meat of Wooyoung’s thigh and watches the other follow him with his eyes, breathing hard in his chest.
“Fuck, yeah, okay.” He says before he’s getting up and rummaging through the room, loud and uncoordinated and everything feels different for some reason.
Before San can really think about it Wooyoung is back with a half empty bottle of lube and condoms, tapping San’s thigh to tell him to remove the towel.
“So riled up already, Sannie?” There is a grin on Wooyoung’s face and San wants to kiss it off.
“I could say the same to you, Woo.” There is a laugh and it’s only until after it registers in San’s ears that he realizes that it’s his own.
There is just enough light peeking through the curtains for the room to be illuminated prettily, the setting sun bathing the room in splotches of pink and purple, and Wooyoung looks beautiful, like he were made from the sky, an unreal being that just so happened to decide and spend its time with San.
You’re so beautiful. The words are right there, right on the tip of San’s tongue, begging to escape, but San swallows again, blabs something else that doesn’t mean as much, that isn’t as intimate, because in the end San has to remember; this isn’t about falling in love and Wooyoung doesn’t feel the same.
Instead, he just picks up his knees and nods when Wooyoung presses a slicked up finger to his hole and asks “Is this okay?”
Everything is muddled in the fog of San’s mind: Wooyoung’s reassuring kisses, the first finger going knuckle deep inside him, the weird mix of too cold and too hot, and San simply exists; neither here nor there.
“It’s good.” He manages to say, breathing deep in his lungs.
It’s so hot today.
“You’re doing so well,” Wooyoung reaches up to make San look at him and kisses near his mouth again, muddling San’s mind even further.
Love , San thinks, breathing the same air as Wooyoung, chest alight with something warm, something different, something new.
Everything is red.
“I can take another finger.”
“I’ll give it to you if you focus on me, baby.” Another kiss to his neck this time, to the constellation there, and San moans sweetly. “Get out of your thoughts, sweetheart. It’s only us.”
“Only us.” San echoes and his chest feels beautiful, as if he were blooming for Wooyoung himself.
Of all the hook-ups San has ever had, he was never in love.
Wooyoung is beautiful.
San is in love.
What else is new?
---------------------
San whines pathetically when Wooyoung fits a third finger inside of him, the squelch of lube loud in his ears. His heart is pounding, loud loud loud in his ears, only soothed when Wooyoung kisses him again, soft lips against his ear.
“You’re taking it so well, baby.” His other hand fists at San’s leaking cock, not enough to get him off, but just enough to feel something, and San feels like he’s melting, a puddle in Wooyoung’s beautiful hands. “You’re doing okay? You feel good?”
“Yes,” The words squeeze themselves out past San’s lips. “It feels amazing.” Wooyoung hums in response, scissoring his fingers to make sure San is really stretched, and everything is so hazy.
“You really are so pretty like this.” Wooyoung sounds more reflective, as if he’s talking to himself when he says this, thumbing at the slit of San’s cock right as his fingers dig against his prostate.
“Shit, fuck, Wooyoung,” San squirms helplessly against the sheets and Wooyoung simply watches him, globs of precum pooling around his finger and dripping down San’s achingly red cock. “Wooyoung, Wooyoung, fuck, I’m going to cum, stop.” and much to his surprise, Wooyoung does, slips his fingers out with a loud squelch and releases San from his grip, watching as the older breathes raggedly, fisting the sheets until his knuckles turn white.
“Sensitive.” Is all Wooyoung says, lips curved in a coy grin, and before San can say anything he is getting kissed again, and thinks that just maybe he can let Wooyoung off the hook this time (like he always does).
“You really like my neck.” He says instead when Wooyoung situates himself there and sucks a mark. Then, “I think I’m ready.” The younger sits up to look at San and the older wonders if Wooyoung knows how beautiful he is.
Another dribble of precum spits out of his cock.
“You sure?” Despite the question Wooyoung begins removing his top, revealing his sun kissed skin, then moving to pull off his shorts, and all San can really do is stare.
Wooyoung is already hard, leaking onto San’s thigh after he gets situated, taking to running his hands up and down San’s sides to keep himself preoccupied.
“Yeah,” San shakes his hips teasingly, sends Wooyoung a fox-like grin when he gets a pleased sound out of him. “Hurry up and fuck me.” Wooyoung scoffs and pinches at San’s side teasingly and the older giggles, watching as Wooyoung reaches for a condom heart kicking back up.
I’m actually going to have sex with Wooyoung .
His skin flares with renewed heat.
“Actually, um,”
“Hm?” Wooyoung sends him an inquisitive glance, fingers ready to tear the foil.
“I, um. I’m clean, y’know.” Wooyoung only stares at him and San wants to disappear.
“Choi San, are you asking me to raw you?” The words carry no bite when there is laughter accompanying them and San feels himself laugh too.
That’s what he liked about Wooyoung: there was nothing to be nervous about.
Easy.
“Yeah, kind of want to get creampied, y’know.” Wooyoung makes a choked sound and even though he tries to laugh it off, San can see him toss the condom elsewhere and reach for the lube again, cheeks bright (with embarrassment or lust, San will never know).
“You can’t just say things like that, San.” There is the dull click of the lube opening and the sound of Wooyoung stroking himself and San feels so dizzy, everything going too slow yet so fast.
“Why not?” He pinches at Wooyoung’s pretty thighs and then smooths a hand over them, trying not to focus on how thick Wooyoung’s cock is, and how it’s going to be in him soon, and how the thought alone makes him want to cum.
“Just because.” Is all Wooyoung says before he is pushing San’s leg back again and staring at his hole, no doubt shining obscenely with too much lube. “How do you want this?” and it’s endearing the way he says it, making San smile with too much adoration, because even though Wooyoung tries to be sexy, the care and concern are evident in his actions.
Something thrums incessantly under San’s skin, coloring the petals against him in vibrant hues.
He can’t face him this way.
“Right,” San takes the chance to lay on his stomach, lifting his hips up to press against Wooyoung, knowing that in this position it’ll be easier to calm himself down.
Knows it’ll be easier to calm his beating heart, because this still doesn’t feel real, and San doesn’t want to do or say something to hurt Wooyoung, to hurt himself.
So he lies there, heart caged between himself and the mattress, praying that Wooyoung won’t see how he truly feels.
There is a bit of shuffling behind him before Wooyoung is pressing three fingers into him again, smoothing his hand down the expanse of San’s back and laughing kind-heartedly when the older whines in annoyance.
“Just making sure you’re stretched.” He pats at San’s thigh before pulling out his fingers, situating himself behind San and--
“Fuck.” The words slip past San’s lips and into the sheets when he feels Wooyoung rub against him, cock head thick against his entrance, and he shivers, suddenly too cold and hypersensitive.
“Tell me if it becomes too much, baby.” Is all Wooyoung says before he grips San’s small waist and pushes in and fuck, San really dug the grave for himself this time.
A long whine escapes him as Wooyoung fills him, hands reaching back to grab at the hand on his hip, the sheets, something to keep him grounded , and he can feel the dizzying mixture again, of too hot and too cold, hiding his face in the sheets to stifle the words that threaten to leave his mouth.
His heart; it bangs desperately in his chest in an attempt to free itself, bordering painful in the way it pounds while Wooyoung fills him up, running his hands soothingly down San’s arms, his back, his sides, all in an effort to calm him.
“Move.” The words are spoken between deep breaths and San looks back to sneak a glance at Wooyoung, petals instantly reaching the tip of his tongue as he pushes his face back into the mattress to whine,
It was smart of me to not face him, San thinks before Wooyoung is pulling out and slapping right into him, tearing an obscenely loud moan from San’s throat.
Wooyoung (like yesterday, like the week before, and like the day San first met him) is beautiful.
He’s so painfully pretty in the short glimpse that San catches of him that he smiles into the sheets, tears filling his eyes like the sound of skin meeting skin in his ears, laughs almost pitifully at himself for being so pathetically in love with his best friend.
His chest hurts but he can barely register it, not when Wooyoung is breathing prettily behind him and fucking him hard, making it hard to keep up when pleasure lights his body on fire and simultaneously drowns him, the same push and pull of somehow breathing too much and yet not at all.
It doesn’t even occur to him that Wooyoung is talking to him (always chatty, always kissing, always finding some way to use his mouth), words garbling into mindless nothing when they enter the fog of San’s mind and he isn’t sure if he wants to hear it anyway, tears threatening to spill from his eyes from something other than oversensitivity.
“You’re so tight,” are the only words that are comprehendible in San’s mind, has him wondering just how pretty Wooyoung looks right now, sweaty and golden and brilliant, but San knows better and keeps his face hidden. “You’re doing so well.”
“You’re just thick.” San banters, hopes he doesn’t sound as wrecked as he feels.
Wooyoung laughs at that and then kisses at San’s nape, attempting to kiss his face before San hides a little more, unsure if he could hold himself back if Wooyoung gets any closer to him.
The younger relents and proceeds to place kisses across the expanse of San’s back, sucking gentle marks into the skin presented to him and murmuring sweet nothings that San can’t catch but flourishes in anyway, arching his back prettily.
San can feel it, the way his chest twists into something morbidly beautiful, overflowing with love for Wooyoung so painfully that he doesn’t even realize that he had actually started crying, fisting the sheets helplessly as hot tears stream down his face and soak the sheets underneath him, clogging his nose and making it hard to breathe, sniffling despite his best efforts to just keep quiet and try to just enjoy this.
Of all the times San ever imagined having sex with Wooyoung, he had never pictured this; him crying pathetically because, in turn, he is so pathetic, cowering from the reality of his emotions when presented to him and being so, so greedy, and--
“Sannie?” The words are accompanied by the gentle hum of the air conditioner and their labored breaths and San wonders if he is dreaming, that maybe this is all a lie and maybe he doesn't have to confront Wooyoung. “Are you crying?”
“No.” He lies through a small sob, moving to wipe his face on the sheets until he feels Wooyoung pulling out of him, panic rising in his chest. “Wooyoung, I--”
“I want to look at you.” Wooyoung cuts him off, grabs at San’s waist and gently turns him around and San lets him.
When they’re face to face again Wooyoung simply holds his face, thumbs wiping at the tears that slide messily down splotchy red cheeks.
“It’s nothing, Woo.” San lies, breaths stuttering at the sight of Wooyoung again, heart on the brink of just leaving his chest and falling into Wooyoung’s pretty hands (San wouldn’t even blame it for doing so). “Just a little overwhelmed.”
Wooyoung kisses at San’s cheeks and then his eyes before he is brushing hair away from San’s forehead, fingers lingering in the bleached section.
“We don’t have to do this.” He repeats, fingers ghosting over the details of San’s face, setting sun kissing his skin the prettiest of pinks.
“I want to, seriously.” San grabs at Wooyoung’s length and the younger jumps, moans quietly against San’s sweaty skin as he thrusts weakly into the loose ring of his hand.
“Okay, but I want to see you.”
I can’t do that.
“Okay.”
And just like that Wooyoung is sliding into him again, pinning San down by his waist and moaning wetly in San’s ear, causing a new wave of goosebumps to adorn San’s sensitive skin.
This is too real.
Too intimate.
San tries to close his eyes (and his heart) from it all, simply exists in the moment, his own moans devolving into helpless little whines when Wooyoung hits his prostate and causes stars to burst behind his eyelids like the petals in his ribcage.
“You really are so pretty,” Wooyoung says, causing San to open his eyes and look at him, and he can feel something shift, something break.
Black hair is plastered to Wooyoung’s fringe, sweat dripping from his chin as he puts in the work, fucking into San with a purpose, and he’s looking at San that way again, like he’s everything to him, and there are fresh tears brimming his eyes again before he can fight them.
“Beautiful, you’re so beautiful Wooyoung,” The words are falling, falling, falling from his lips and he can’t stop them, not when Wooyoung looks down at him with rose colored cheeks and delicate eyes.
“You think I’m beautiful?” Wooyoung asks, expression dreamy while sweat drips down his forehead and onto the sheets.
“The most beautiful person I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” San says right when Wooyoung causes him to shake from pleasure, his thighs clamping at Wooyoung’s sides in an attempt to stave off his orgasm, his neglected cock dripping messily all over his stomach.
He wants to close his eyes again and hide but Wooyoung is there again, holding his face so that he can look at him, and it feels so intimate, too real, too much, and everything just bursts.
When San closes his eyes he sees it again, fragments of stars and flowers and Wooyoung bathed in the color pink.
--------------
What San feels for Wooyoung?
He feels love.
He’s put so much thought into it, from the moment he met Wooyoung, to right now where he lies underneath him, but he never acted on it because 1. Wooyoung is his best friend, 2. He didn't want to make things weird, 3. Wooyoung is a heartbreaker , and most importantly, 4. San is greedy .
Wooyoung was never his to begin with.
San has to remember that.
------------
There are words spilling from San’s lips and he is breathing so hard that it hurts, right onto Wooyoung’s face as he grabs at anything his hands can find.
“Huh?” Wooyoung is brushing hair away from San’s face again and the words fall out faster than San can catch them, spilling everywhere with the stupid petals that betray him.
“Kiss me, Wooyoung, please, kiss me,” and suddenly, like the setting sun and like the petals that burst from San’s chest, everything is pink .
Wooyoung kisses like fire; hot and intense and San is melting all over again, a mess of floral shards that flood the room and drown him, suffocating, filling his lungs until he is lightheaded.
Wooyoung’s hands hold his face gently in contrast with the way he kisses him, hard and hungry and with a purpose, tongue teasing the seam of San’s lips before slipping inside, tasting San and there is something hot in the pit of San’s stomach, his orgasm twisting and shaking him until he’s just moaning mindless nonsense into Wooyoung’s mouth.
“I’m gonna cum,” He grabs at Wooyoung’s nape and tangles his fingers in the hair there, pulling him closer and licking into his mouth, tongue running over the roof of his mouth before he sucks on Wooyoung’s lower lip, niping playfully at the beauty mark there.
This -- kissing Wooyoung -- is unreal.
San had thought about it, about this, kissing Wooyoung and having sex with him for years , yearning, and yet here he is, about to cum while Wooyoung kisses his lips raw.
“Cum for me, baby,” The words are spoken between sloppy kisses that leave San dizzy, sucking on Wooyoung’s tongue softly. “Wanna see you cum on my cock.”
“Fuck,” San is so close, so painfully close, precum dripping all over his stomach. He pulls Wooyoung impossibly close, hoping that the younger can’t feel the way his heart stutters impossibly when their lips find each other again in the fading light of the room, a mess of desperate lips and clumsy tongues.
“My beautiful baby,” Wooyoung whispers between them, holding San’s face like he is the most precious thing to him, and just like that San is cumming hard, moaning so loud that it comes off as a cry, stifled only by Wooyoung’s lips that kiss him again and again and again .
San doesn’t know how long it lasts, but suddenly Wooyoung is cumming too with a breathy sigh that San steals from his mouth.
“Good -- it feels so good.” San doesn’t realize he is saying the words until they’re out in the open, quickly forgotten when Wooyoung kisses the beauty mark on his cheek and then his lips again, and again, and makes no sign to move from this current position, rutting shallowly into San’s sloppy hole and kissing him over and over until they can’t breathe.
“You’re so pretty,” Wooyoung sighs against his lips, hands traveling from San’s face to his hands, interlocking their fingers with a chaste brush of lips. “So, so pretty, Sannie.”
San wonders if the smile on his face conveys all of the love in his heart.
Wooyoung continues to kiss him, softer this time due to the lack of urgency, and San lets him, wrapping his arms around Wooyoung and simply holding him, scared that if he leaves the moment will break and cease to exist.
“I need to clean us up.”
“It can wait.” Wooyoung gives San a breathy laugh at that and pinches at his sides playfully.
“Come on baby, I need to or else you’ll regret it.” San whines at that, then whines even louder when Wooyoung slowly pulls out of him.
“Gross.”
“You asked for this, baby.” Wooyoung laughs, watching as cum drips from San’s hole before he gets up and walks to the bathroom, returning with a wet cloth. “Come here.”
Clean up has never been this gentle, San muses when Wooyoung kisses him through it, wiping down his stomach and his hole softly before he tosses the rag aside and continues to kiss San.
They don’t stop; not when the sun finally hides to reveal the moon, or when the cars outside stop honking, or even when the air conditioner stops humming so loud and goes into power saver mode.
San’s lips are red and kiss-swollen by the time he gets sleepy, one hand caressing Wooyoung’s cheek, the other holding their hands to his chest when Wooyoung laughs prettily against his lips, the petals of San’s heart surrounding them on the mattress.
A dream.
That’s what this must be.
San is sure of it.
--------------------------
Sunlight.
The curtain is drawn to the side and there is light filtering in, incredibly bright and distracting.
It’s cold.
There is a sound somewhere, like water rushing, and San can remember one thing: this isn’t his house, it’s Wooyoung’s dorm.
He sighs in content, stretching before he feels an ache in his ass and suddenly he isn’t all that sleepy anymore.
Wooyoung.
He is in Wooyoung’s bed.
Because they had sex.
San blinks the sleep from his eyes and licks at his lips, noting how they ache.
He’s in Wooyoung’s bed, because they had sex.
He’s in Wooyoung’s bed, because they had sex, and he kissed him .
San sits up and everything feels too real.
They had kissed because San had begged for it, and Wooyoung had kissed him on the mouth and they kissed for hours and--
San feels nauseous.
Cold.
Despite the heat, everything is cold, cold, cold.
A wave of unease hits San at the realization, fingers twitching as panic washes over him and fills his lungs. He turns towards the door, knows the layout of Wooyoung’s apartment like the back of his hand, and wonders if it would be obvious if he hauled ass out of the room.
Music is playing, something new from the artist Wooyoung never shuts up about, and San can’t help but gag, the panic in his chest twisting his stomach until he’s coughing up liquid nothing in his mouth.
He has to leave-- he has to leave before he does something more stupid than what he did last night.
Just like yesterday it’s hard to breathe, but it’s different this time. It isn’t because he’s happy, or nervous, or whatever the hell he felt; it’s because he’s scared.
I asked Wooyoung to kiss me. The words reverb and spin in his head until he feels like throwing up again. Wooyoung kissed me, and I made myself so vulnerable.
Wooyoung is never going to love you the way you love him.
You should have never agreed to this.
You’re an idiot.
There is a sound at the door that has San breaking out of his inner turmoil, snapping his neck up quickly to watch as Wooyoung enters the room, hair pushed back by a hairband and face freshly washed. He smiles at San like he always does and walks towards him.
His shirt is two sizes too big and engulf his shorts.
San has to leave.
“Hey, slept well?” Wooyoung is asking, the words devolving to incomprehensible nothings in San’s ears.
San has to leave.
“Yes.”
Wooyoung sits in front of him and suddenly San realizes just how naked he is. He wonders if getting up to get dressed would be as awkward as he thinks it is.
Wooyoung simply answers with a hum, looking at his phone and then at San, and San prays he doesn’t throw up.
“I might order something to eat, you want anything?” San doesn’t trust himself to open his mouth so he shakes his head, brushing it off as sleepiness and not panic. “Alright, I’ll order for myself then. If you feel hungry, you can have some of whatever I buy.”
San doesn’t know why Wooyoung isn’t freaking out, or maybe he does.
Maybe it’s because this is how all of his hook-ups go.
Maybe San isn’t any different than any of Wooyoung’s past partners.
God, he thinks, moving to get up out of the bed and grab his clothes before Wooyoung is grabbing at his wrist and holding it softly.
His body feels like it’s going to combust.
“Sannie,” The words are soft and yet carve away at San, digging an ugly mark into his chest over and over. “Come here.”
When San doesn’t make any effort to move, Wooyoung makes the effort instead, tugging San towards him like he always does, smiling softly at him, remnants of yesterday's pink still adorning his features.
San feels horrible.
They don’t do anything, just staring at one another, before Wooyoung leans in and everything in San’s body lurches back, yanking his hand away from Wooyoung, backing himself into a literal (and metaphorical) wall.
I have to get out of here.
“I have to go.”
Silence.
“Oh.” The remnants of pink fade from Wooyoung and all that is left is the muted coloring of the rising sun.
Everything is blue.
“Yeah.” San reaches for his clothes. Wooyoung stares at him.
The silence is deafening.
San barely has his shirt (that is still dirty from ice pop) over his head before he speaks up again.
“I’ll text you?” It said more like a question than anything and Wooyoung simply stares at San, expression unreadable.
“Sure.” Then, “Want me to walk with you downstairs?”
Yes.
“No.” He grabs his phone and sees the mess of messages cluttering his lock screen. He ignores them. “It’s okay, you don’t have to.”
“Oh.” Wooyoung stops looking at him then, turns back to his phone, and everything is back to cold despite the sweat that drips down San’s back. “Okay. Leave when you want.”
San takes that as an incentive to leave almost immediately, barely giving Wooyoung a wave goodbye before he’s sliding outside of the door, leaning against it with a heavy sigh and even heavier heart, tears finding his eyes before he can catch them.
He opens his phone and the first message is from Hongjoong.
Joongie Boongie
[Photo]
You and Wooyoung look really cute here, thought you’d like this image hehe
The tears fall against the screen and San turns off his phone.
I really am so stupid.
---------
San didn’t expect to be back in his college at any point during the summer, much less with Wooyoung, and yet here he is: stretching next to said boy who goes through his phone tirelessly while nearly resting his head on his thigh.
Neither of them really speak.
San doesn’t know why he agreed to tag along.
It was ridiculously hot that day, some point in early August, the sun glaring down on them as they trudged towards the performing arts building earlier that day and San wondered if this was even worth it, wondered if this was going to go well.
“Okay, I need to dance to some songs for my final, and I need you to record me.” Is all Wooyoung says, straight to the point.
No teasing smiles.
No laughter.
Empty.
San agrees anyway and takes the camera from Wooyoung’s hands.
Despite the heat, it is cold.
It goes by like clockwork; Wooyoung dances, revises it, retakes it.
Despite it all, Wooyoung is still beautiful.
There is bile in San’s throat and his eyes burn (but maybe that's what he gets for being so foolish).
San doesn’t know how long it takes before Wooyoung is breathing heavily next to him and taking the camera (but to be fair, San doesn't know much of anything anymore).
“Thanks.”
San doesn’t say anything.
Wooyoung packs up his bag.
Do you want to go eat?
Do you want to come to my house?
Do you still want to be friends with me?
“By the way,” Wooyoung stands up and slings his bag over his shoulder, pushes his hair out of his eyes, and San can feel the words before Wooyoung even says them. “I don’t think we should do that -- the sex -- anymore.”
There it is.
It’s so hot out today.
“Oh.”
Then why am I so cold?
“Yeah. I don’t want things to get weird, or whatever.” Wooyoung walks to the door and lifts his hand. “I’ll be going, then.”
“Okay.”
The door closes a little too loudly when Wooyoung leaves.
Good thing it isn’t louder than the ringing in San’s ears.
------------
They still don’t talk, not when August rolls over and almost leans into September.
It’s hot again, San muses, walking up to the door of Seonghwa’s parents house that is too big to be in the city and too out of the way to be easily accessible.
What a pain.
San knocks on the door, the muffled sound of loud chattering and a song San hasn’t bothered learning pouring through the door once Yeosang opens it, smile falling once his eyes land on the younger.
“You finally made it.” Yeosang says with the most uninterest possible, standing at the door with a cup of whatever-the-hell-that-is in his hands and all San can think of is his past demon concoction. “I told you that it started at one, why are you here at almost three?”
Because I don’t want to see Wooyoung.
“Sorry.” San only shrugs and Yeosang stares at him for so long that it borders on unsettling.
“This is Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s graduation party; you show up late and all you have to say is sorry ?” Yeosang takes another sip and San fears it’ll end up all over his face.
“I got lost.” Yeosang keeps staring. “I really am sorry. I brought gifts?” San lifts the bags in his hand that are adorned with balloons and Yeosang doesn’t seem impressed, neatly trimmed eyebrows furrowing in something akin to disgust.
“If you think that--”
“Is everything alright, my love?” Seonghwa jogs up to the door, eyes focused on Yeosang before looking at San and San thanks whoever can hear him for Park Seonghwa. “Oh, San! You made it! Make yourself at home.” He opens the door wider and Yeosang gives San a look that says he’s mad at him for reasons other than being late.
San tries not to think about that too hard.
“Everyone is in the living room and snacks are in the kitchen.”
“Sorry for being so late,” San apologizes again, noting the ridiculous amount of space this house has. “I brought gifts.”
“You didn’t have to.” Seonghwa says with a smile, patting San on the shoulder. “Just seeing you today is enough for me.”
“In other words,” Yeosang deadpans, lips glued to the cup in front of him. “You can put the gifts on the table with all the other ones.” There is a hushed whisper of Yeosang from Seonghwa and a roll of the brunette's eyes before they reach the others who talk loudly in the (ridiculously large) living room.
San notices the gift table at first, brimming with gifts of varying sizes, then the group of people after.
San really wishes he stood home.
It really isn’t anything new, most of them being the exact people San saw at Seonghwa’s dorm party months back, but it feels different somehow, as if San weren’t in his body anymore and this was all some weird fever dream.
“Sannie!” There is a voice shouting and foolishly San turns around, heart in his throat (and then in his stomach) when it’s just Hongjoong. “You made it, huh? How have you been?” San wants to answer but Yeosang is suddenly next to Hongjoong and sizing him up again.
“And why do you look like a skunk?” Hongjoong laughs but San feels absolutely nauseous.
He can see Wooyoung again, smiling at him dreamily as he mouths “Not just any sexy skunk, my sexy skunk.” , and he laughs so awkwardly it hurts.
“I’m okay,” He answers even though his heart feels like it’s bleeding all over the floor, the best fake smile he can muster plastered on his face. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
“You almost did, though.” Yeosang mutters under his breath.
“Also, I guess I just wanted to do something different.” He continues anyway, hopes the red gushing from his chest and all over the floor and all over his and Yeosang’s and Hongjoong’s shoes is just all in his head.
“It looks nice.” Hongjoong grins before wrapping San in a hug. “I really missed you; I’m going to miss you.”
I’m going to miss you.
That’s right; this is their graduation party, because Seonghwa and Hongjoong are leaving, and San isn’t going to see them anymore.
San really, really wishes he stood home (maybe then it’d hurt less).
“We’ll still see each other, right?” San laughs to cover up the tears that threaten to spill from his eyes, the hole in his chest getting carved deeper and deeper and deeper . “I can always see you on the weekends, or--”
“Hongjoong got scouted, genius. Read the room.” Yeosang drawls, swirling around whatever is in his cup. “You would have known if you were active in the group chat, or were ever online, or attended the graduation, or if you’ve spoken to any of us lately, or--”
“Yeosang,” The redhead hisses, giving him a look that has the brunette staring back, not making any move to back down.
“I’m listening?” It’s so condescending that Hongjoong actually laughs.
“Not now, okay Yeosang?” He gives the younger a long look until Yeosang finally relents, rolling his eyes and walking off with a muttered fine, Joong.
Even though there is something loud blaring through the speakers, a pretty voice singing Cheer up, baby! Cheer up, baby!, San feels like he’s going to throw up and mess up the floor along with the red that pools around his feet.
“I was going to tell you today, Sannie, but Yeosang is… difficult, lately, and everything is moving so fast.” Hongjoong runs a hand through his hair and gives San the best smile he can.
“I understand.” San wishes he was drinking something to make him numb (but the anxiety helps with that, anyway). “I’m so proud of you, Joong.” Hongjoong smiles impossibly bright and San finds himself on the brink of crying again.
What a pain.
“I still want to talk to you though, if that’s okay?”
I really don’t want to, sorry.
“Sure, when?”
“Is now okay?”
Absolutely not. How about never?
“Yeah.”
Hongjoong runs off to give Mingi a brief kiss on the cheek and most likely tells him where he is going before he is jogging back to San and holding his hand.
San is smiling, as if he isn’t bleeding out and everything isn’t deteriorating around him, leaving him to try and piece it all back together with his bare hands.
San wishes he stood home.
---------
“I’m sorry about Yeosang; I didn’t want you to find out that way.” Are the first words to leave Hongjoong’s mouth once he closes the door behind them. They’re standing in the garden; there are way too many flowers for San’s liking.
“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” It sounds fake even in San’s ears and clearly in Hongjoong’s too when he fixes him with a look.
“San, it’s okay to say if it bothers you; I won’t get mad.”
“It doesn’t, though.” The sun is uncomfortably hot and they walk towards the gazebo that is adorned with pink and white tulips.
San feels nauseous all over again.
Hongjoong makes a sound of resignation before plucking a stray flower, admiring the petals in his small hands. “How have you been, Sannie?” He plays with the petal, rubs it between his fingers for the texture. “I haven’t heard from you in a while; are you doing well? How is Wooyoung? I figured I’d ask you too since you’re always with him.”
San laughs loud and fake and hopes that it sounds real enough to not sound broken.
“I’m doing great,” The words taste sour in his mouth and he wonders if he is actually going to throw up. “Everything has been fine, y’know. Besides that, how was your graduation? It must have been great.”
Thankfully Hongjoong follows along and doesn’t question why San didn’t answer about Wooyoung, or why he is suddenly so loud.
“Graduation went well, pretty sad, though. I’m really going to miss everybody.” He looks back towards the house and San follows, watches the bodies behind the glass door dance and move with too much energy. “Also, about what Yeosang said -- please don’t feel like you were the only one who couldn’t make the ceremony.”
San kicks at the spare pebbles that litter the otherwise clean wooden flooring of the gazebo while Hongjoong continues to talk.
“To be fair, Yeosang was really the only one who made it. They barely gave us enough tickets to invite people with, and Seonghwa had to beg one of his friends for an extra ticket so that he could invite Yeosang.” Hongjoong laughs at the thought of it. “He wanted Yeosang to see him be valedictorian, and if I’m being totally honest, I think Yeosang would have stabbed someone just to sneak into the ceremony.”
“Fools in love, huh,” San says absently, picking at his nails.
“I wonder if they’re going to get married someday.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it.” Hongjoong tosses the flower to San and when he catches it, it feels like his hand is on fire. “Seonghwa is like, stupidly in love with Yeosang, and I’m pretty sure Yeosang would literally move a mountain with his mind just for Seonghwa.”
“Must be nice.” Is all San responds with, flower petals burning a hole in his hands that he refuses to open.
They’re quiet after that, the elephant in the room trumpeting loudly between them.
It takes a while; the song in the house that blares loudly has changed, something about Let’s dance the night away muffling through, before Hongjoong looks at him again, cheeks dusted a pretty pink.
“I’m sorry, Sannie.” He takes a deep breath and San doesn’t know how to react to the possibility of Kim Hongjoong crying in front of him. “I know I shouldn’t be so sad about this, but you’re like my best friend and it’s not even that I’m moving or anything but,” The redhead sniffles and dabs at unshed tears with the back of his hand. “We won’t get to see each other as much as we used to, and I just want to meet up with you after class and get stupid cafeteria food with you and hang out with everyone.”
“It’s okay,” San squeezes out through the lump in his throat, trying to smile even though he just wants to throw himself on the floor and rot away. “It’s okay, Joongie. It just means we’re growing up. We can find a new way to see one another, right? This is your dream come true.” Hongjoong makes a whining sound before inhaling deeply, nodding to San’s words.
“Being an adult sucks, San.” The younger laughs at that, pulling Hongjoong into a hug despite the others' protest.
“I know Joong, I know.” He pets at the red hair against his chest. “Don’t feel bad for succeeding, I’ll be fine.” He pulls away from the shorter and wipes at his tears despite feeling like he’s on the brink of crying everywhere. “Plus, I still have everyone else, and you have Mingi, and everything will be good, right?”
“I guess you’re right,” The shorter sniffles, shaking his head to get rid of his nerves. “We’ll be okay.”
San hopes he’s right.
“That’s right. Now, no crying, this is your party! Have fun with everyone, yeah?” Hongjoong smiles and wipes at his face before punching San playfully on the shoulder.
“When did you become the responsible one?” He asks, San mentally deflating at the irony of it all.
San moves to answer before the glass door is opening again, Seonghwa and Yeosang spilling out with stupidly bright smiles, red solo cup still glued to Yeosang’s hands when he kisses Seonghwa on the mouth with a muted I love you that Hongjoong and San don’t even have to hear to know it was said.
“They’re totally going to get married one of these days.” Hongjoong deadpans and San agrees, watching hollowly when Seonghwa holds Yeosang’s face in his hands.
“Must be nice.”
----------------
As much as San would have liked to stay in the gazebo until sundown, the smell of flowers was a little too nauseating and Yeosang was getting a little too handsy with Seonghwa, so he and Hongjoong ran out before the brunette could notice and possibly choke San out with his bare hands (or drown San with his alcohol, who knew?).
The inside of the house is ridiculously loud, but it seems like only San is bothered by it if the crowd of people dancing is any indication.
“Just going to sit here alone all night?” San turns to look at Yunho who gives him an overly cute smile that has San doing a double take.
“Yunho? You’re here?” The taller wraps San in a hug that pulls the younger right out of his chair. “I thought you went away for the summer!”
“I did,” Yunho puts San down with a genial smile that brightens the room. “The semester is almost starting though, gotta move back in at some point, right?”
“Oh,” San looks around, then, “Are you still roommates with Wooyoung?”
“Of course!” Yunho smiles, then he’s shouting, and San seriously thinks he is going to throw up, all over the stupidly expensive shoes on Yunho’s feet and his dumb ripped jeans.
“Huh?” It’s Wooyoung’s voice, of course it’s Wooyoung’s voice, and there is rushing and it’s as if San is drowning on land, trying to claw his way out of nothing except his worst fears.
There are footsteps but San doesn’t know from where, there is too much noise and he feels dizzy and, and--
“Yunho, you’re here?” It’s Wooyoung and San completely freezes.
Wooyoung is standing next to San and yet, and yet--
“I thought you were moving in today!” Wooyoung simply focuses on Yunho, brushing right past San and hugging the oldest in an embrace that has San reeling.
Wooyoung feels so far away.
“I was, but I decided to run over here and congratulate those two grandpas.” The younger giggles cutely and the floor is spinning with the red that gushes straight from the center of San’s chest, the flower petals that were once there melting into a disgustingly colorful mess of liquid.
“That’s what we are all here for, right?” Wooyoung says, but the words are dissipating, devolving into broken letters and repeating consonants. “Do you want to dance?”
“I was actually talking to San, I’m surprised that you two aren’t dancing together!” Yunho laughs obliviously and San doesn’t miss the way Wooyoung turns to look at him.
San has to leave, he has to leave, he has to leave, leave, leave--
“I guess he got tired of dancing with me,” Wooyoung says around a smile that San knows is fake.
I never get tired of you.
I always want to dance with you.
Why am I so stupid?
It’s until Yunho is nudging San's shoulder and he is blinking owlishly that San realizes he hadn’t been listening (not that he could, anyway. It’s loud in here, in the catastrophe of San’s mind). Wooyoung is watching him and for a moment San entertains the idea of looking at him again and wishes he hadn’t.
Wooyoung looks away right after and once again there is bile in San’s throat that mingles with the red and discolored liquid.
Wooyoung looks miserable.
San bends over and throws up.
------------------------
September is uncharacteristically cold.
College starts up again and somehow, in the span of three months, everything is different.
San goes to college alone. San goes home alone. There is no ridiculously loud laughter or quick coffee runs in the middle of class.
There are no small redheads who help San study, or listen to him whine, or make him listen to their newest beat.
Yeosang continues to ignore San (unless he is telling him something offhandedly), Yunho works hard in his studies, and Mingi spends most if not all of his free time with Hongjoong.
San is left then with Jongho, who is an old soul trapped in the body of a muscular bunny of a boy.
“San, you have to answer number 16a, come on.” Jongho speaks in pout, nudging at San’s arm that holds his face up. “We only have this room for an hour and a half, we need to study.” San doesn’t remember standing up yet he finds himself rewriting the problem on the board in order to solve it, something about reactions and why one happens while the other doesn’t.
Soobin is chatty, whining about why this even needs to be learned, to which Jongho responds with a teasing then drop the major, and Soobin shoves at him with a pout.
It’s too cold.
When there are five minutes left in their study session Jongho is tapping San’s shoulder while Soobin packs up his belongings.
“We’re going to meet up at the cafeteria and get food after this, wanna tag along?” Then, “Yunho is coming, try not to throw up on him again.” Jongho laughs, all of his cute teeth on display but San just stares at him before giving a sarcastic laugh.
“Good one, wonder how long it took for you to think that up.” There is shuffling and then Soobin is waving his good-bye at them, running outside to see Yeonjun who hands Soobin a cup of coffee.
San looks away.
“Okay, okay, sorry,” Jongho’s laugh says otherwise. “Still, though, wanna come?”
San considers the possibilities: on one hand he gets to hang out with his friends again and try to regain some form of constant in his life; on the other hand, he has to sit there with Wooyoung for an hour and a half and possibly get scowled at by Yeosang and try not to have an anxiety attack.
For some weird reason the former wins.
“Sure.” San shovels his notebooks into his bag and tries to regain his composure (or what little there is left, anyway).
Maybe, San thinks as he follows Jongho out of the room, it won’t be as bad as I think it’ll be.
---------------------
San is wrong, because it is almost as bad as San thought it’d be, if not worse.
After they had met in the cafeteria they went to an empty classroom to eat in.
Yeosang is blatantly ignoring him at this point aside from the underhanded comments, Wooyoung doesn’t smile like he used to, and Mingi is way too loud.
Yunho, thank God, is incredibly understanding and kind and holds no bad feelings towards San ( “It’s okay!” He reassured San after he had washed the throw up off of him and Seonghwa gave him an extra pair of clothing. San had apologized vehemently until he almost started crying and Yunho had just patted him on the back. “Mingi got cross-faded once and threw up on me-- I’m not happy to be the victim of course but I’m not going to hate you for it.” San cried on Yunho’s shoulder and blamed it on being wasted (which was ironic because San hadn’t had a lick on alcohol the entire night). Yunho simply smiled and dragged him back to the dance floor).
“How’s the semester going for all of you?” Yunho asks when he clamps a hand over Mingi’s mouth. “We’re graduating next year, isn’t that crazy?”
They all cheer except for San and Jongho.
“Jongho and I aren’t, remember?” San laughs uneasily, trying not to think about being left even more alone once they all leave.
“I don’t remember him asking you, though.” Yeosang laughs in that cynical way of his, slender arm slung over Wooyoung’s shoulder and holding him close. “Next year is for the winners, fellas.” Wooyoung nudges Yeosang gently and the brunette fixes him with a look that says more than Yeosang ever will.
“Hey now, San’s major is just a little annoying, but he’s a winner too,” Yunho tries, clapping for San even though he feels like the biggest loser in the world. “There is no race! We all win at our own pace.”
Yeosang scoffs and sips idly at his iced coffee before cutting San with a sidelong glance, turning back to Wooyoung and playing with his fingers and murmuring god-knows-what to him.
Wooyoung doesn’t smile.
San doesn’t, either.
“What do you guys want to watch?” Mingi is loud and wears a goofy grin, hair dyed back to a natural brown. There are a flurry of recommendations until Mingi settles on some youtuber who screams over a video game.
Everything is so fucking loud.
“Hey, are you okay?” Jongho’s voice filters in through San’s ears and the older jumps, startled at the close proximity.
“I’m fine,” San lies easily, feels the bottle in his chest cracking under all of the pressure before he grabs it by the neck and launches it further down the abyss. “Just kind of stressed.” Jongho hums in acknowledgement, rubbing circles into San’s back.
“Just know we’re all your friends, okay?” Are you, though? “If you ever need to talk we’re here for you.”
“Okay.” The words sound clipped even in San’s ears and the conversation ends there.
San should have never come.
---------------
San isn’t able to see Hongjoong until some point in October, when the weather actually starts to get cold and the trees start turning orange.
They meet in Hongjoong’s apartment (that might as well also belong to Mingi at this point). The shorter of the two answers the door and for the first time in months San actually laughs a real laugh.
“Don’t laugh at me!” Hongjoong exclaims, cheeks red as he punches at San playfully, the younger clutching at his sides. “Do you know how annoying and expensive it is to keep dying my hair red?”
“So you went for barcode bangs?” That earns him a bite from Hongjoong and he screams in the middle of the hallway.
“Get your ass in my apartment before I lock you out.” Hongjoong threatens with a mischievous laugh, kicking at San’s behind when then taller crawls into the apartment. The first thing San notices is Mingi’s clothes strewn about and a vase of flowers on the small kitchen table. “Before you ask, we kind of got into an argument, but he made it up to me.” The shorter begins to collect Mingi’s oversized clothes and San, oblivious, asks how.
Hongjoong gives San a quizzical look and an incredulous laugh, but when San gives no sign of joking, the shorter answers anyway. “He bought me flowers, we fucked, then he said he was sorry and all of that, y’know.” The shorter was obviously withholding a lot of information but his smile said enough. “I can’t stay mad at him forever, though.”
“Must be nice,” San responds, taking off his jacket while Hongjoong throws the clothes into his room and locks the door. “You two seem to be really good for one another.”
“I guess you’re right.” Hongjoong muses, walking to his refrigerator and humming. “Do you want to drink anything? I’ve got root beer, water, peach tea…”
“Water is fine.” Hongjoong throws him a bottle of water and keeps a root beer for himself, walking towards his couch and inviting San to sit with him. “How’s work?”
“It’s so tiring, dude.” Hongjoong stretches his legs out and places them on San’s thighs, curling like a shrimp on the couch. “Eden says my beats are good and everything, but for someone to actually want them? Why is this so difficult? I’m happy to be getting paid while I help them with composing and all of that but I also want to be recognized for my singular work, y’know?” He drinks his root beer mournfully before placing it on the floor. “Besides that it’s good, but I barely have time off.”
“I can tell.” San pinches at Hongjoong’s foot teasingly and the older makes a sound of annoyance. “I haven’t seen you since August.”
“Yeah, my last memory of you is you--”
“Throwing up on Yunho, yes, I know.” San rolls his eyes and the shorter hums quietly. There is a weird silence after that, something hanging in the air that San can’t really put his finger on.
“Are you okay, San?” The question is sudden and the younger doesn’t really know how to answer. “Even back then-- you’re different, you know that?” San looks everywhere but Hongjoong, drinking at his water just for an excuse not to talk.
“I don’t know what you mean?” San tries but Hongjoong gives him a knowing look. “I’ve just been stressed out, I guess.”
“Is it Wooyoung?” Silence. “Of course it’s Wooyoung. What happened?”
“Nothing happened, Joong.” San tries to lie his way out but his body betrays him, flushing incredibly hot and yet he’s shaking, too cold for comfort. “We-- we’re still friends, he and I.”
“Are you, though?” The shorter sits up, slinging his arm over the couch and San feels closed in. “Neither of you have responded in the group chat in months, you two avoided one another like the plague at the graduation party, and you look miserable. Seriously San, what’s up? I’m worried.” There is a laugh and San wonders why he’s even laughing in a situation like this.
“I, I just, I don’t know? Guess we’re stressed?” Or maybe I’m just an idiot. “Or maybe he’s just busy, I don’t know! I don’t know what he’s up to all the time!” The feeling is back, as if San is drowning, and it hurts to breathe, the bottle in his chest resurfacing and cracking just a bit, and it all starts trickling out. Keep it cool, San. “Who knows! Who knows anymore! Not me! Because he doesn’t talk to me anymore!” So much for keeping it cool, Choi San.
“Why doesn’t he talk to you anymore? Are you guys fighting or something?” Hongjoong is too calm and San wants to scream into his couch cushions, breaths coming too fast and too irregularly and making him horrifically dizzy.
Coming to terms with love; that was easy.
Coming to terms with hurting Wooyoung; San can taste the bile again.
“San, hey San, calm down,” Hongjoong is rubbing at the younger’s back and San hadn’t even realized he was crying all over Hongjoong’s clothed legs, chest heaving in stuttered sobs.
“I hurt Wooyoung because I was stupid, Joong,” San breathes out, the red gushing from his chest again. “Joong I’m so stupid, I’m so fucking stupid Hongjoong, I hurt Wooyoung because I’m an idiot and I don’t know what to do, he won’t talk to me anymore, and, and--”
“Whoa, whoa, San,” The shorter brushes back San’s hair that grew way too long, the bleached part more black than white anymore, and San makes an ugly sound. “You aren’t stupid, Sannie, come on. Tell me what happened.”
“I like him so much, Hongjoong,” San blubbers instead, wondering if Hongjoong can see the red that dirties his floor. “He’s so beautiful and I’m so stupid for him,” The red begins to turn black, sticky and thick and it chokes him. “We had sex because I’m greedy and I’m an idiot, Joong.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, backup San, I’m going to need more information here; you two had sex?” San doesn’t trust himself to open his mouth so he nods instead, wiping at his tears that burn down his cheeks. "Was it a one time thing?"
"It was supposed to be," The black spilling from his chest makes it hard to move, swallowing him whole. “Ugh, why did I agree to this, Joong?”
“Agree to what?” The shorter turns San gently by his shoulders so that they are facing one another and everything spills out; messy black ink sullying the couch, his hands, and drowning whatever remained of the bouquet in his chest.
San tries to calm himself, breathes heavily through his nose before he coughs out an ugly sob, wiping the mess off of his face.
“Do you remember that stupid party before my exam? When you left me in the room and abandoned me so you could get tongued down by Mingi in the kitchen?” Hongjoong makes a choked sound and before he can deny it San sighs out, “Wooyoung told me; it doesn’t even matter.”
“True, true. So what about that party?”
“While you were gone he found me in the room, and we were talking or whatever, ugh, ” San feels more tears drip down his cheeks and doesn’t even wipe at them. “I was super anxious, and coming down from the alcohol, and we’re stupid and he suggested that we, y’know, do stuff,” Hongjoong takes a long sip from his drink, pairing it with a side long glance at San. “And I didn’t want to be greedy so I totally thought it was a one-time thing, even though I didn’t want it to be.
“But then we went to his dorm the next day, and he wanted to continue, and I’m so dumb, Joong. What was I going to do, say no?” San groans and uses his already damp sleeve to wipe at his face again (it’s admittedly gross, but it’s all he has anymore). “We told each other that we couldn’t tell anyone, or that we can’t catch feelings, and that we couldn’t kiss each other, and it was fine; we just… kept fucking around, and it was never anything serious, I guess.”
“But it was, wasn’t it? For you at least.” San sniffles pathetically and nods before he just sighs, long and loud and miserable.
“I knew from the start that I’d get too attached and he’d never feel the same way, Joong, but I was too selfish and I kept going because I thought that even if it’d never be real, at least I should grab onto the mirage of it for as long as I could.”
“Hm,” The older reaches forward and wipes at San’s sensitive cheeks. “So you two were fooling around and now you aren’t talking; what happened, Sannie?”
“We never had sex sex, and I guess it was kind of leading up to that moment, but we, you know, and I got too overwhelmed and I started crying and he got concerned and just, ugh, he cares about me, he cares about me so much Joong, and I got too in my feelings, and I told him to kissed me, dude. I’m an idiot who has liked Jung Wooyoung for four years and I just had to run my mouth and tell him to kiss me.”
“But isn’t that what you wanted?” Hongjoong reaches over to the small table beside them and grabs at a snack, munching on it when he fixes San with a confused look. “And he kissed you too; I know it was against one of your weird rules or whatever, but you both kissed, right? Go on.”
“We kissed, and yeah it was good and it was amazing and all of that but… I felt so guilty the morning after.” The shorter offers San some of his snacks (gummy bears, San realizes) and the younger shakes his head. “I feel like I took advantage of Wooyoung by asking him to kiss me. We were never supposed to, and he probably felt bad for me and pity kissed me, or maybe he just, I don’t know, but I panicked and I didn’t even want to be touched by him. I felt so sick with myself for getting too greedy and doing that, Joong.”
A weird silence settles between the two of them, San wallowing in his own guilt while Hongjoong just hums in thought, eating quietly.
“Okay, okay.” The shorter gets up and dusts his hands off, shuffling to his small kitchen quickly before returning with another drink in his hand. “So you feel guilty for kissing Wooyoung even though you wanted to do it since forever, because you feel like you were taking advantage of Wooyoung, right?” San nods. “And you don’t think Wooyoung would ever feel the same way towards you? You don’t think Wooyoung would ever like you, even though he agreed to do this whole friends-with-benefits thing with you, and you really don’t think there were at least a little bit of emotions attached on both ends?”
“You know how Wooyoung is, Joongie. He’s a heartbreaker, always has been.”
“Yeah, but with the way I see it, you did the heartbreaking this time around, Sannie.” There is that feeling again, like a wave of nausea that constantly beats against his back, and San feels dizzy, dizzy, dizzy.
Gross.
“Joong,” San whines, but Hongjoong is quick to cut him off with a small hand and a big scowl.
“San, you really need to talk to Wooyoung about this.” There’s a sharp feeling, like someone is stabbing San in the back repeatedly, but he knows Hongjoong is right. “I’m here to listen to you, dude, but nothing will get solved if you keep this to yourself. You need to tell him you didn’t mean it the way you did.”
“But Joong--”
“‘ But Joong’ nothing, San. Listen, if I were Wooyoung, I would be devastated right now; not only because you ran out, but also because you didn’t explain why and it’s just so skeevy, San. You have sex and act all cute and you beg him to kiss you, and the next morning you run out on him?” Hongjoong makes an exasperated sound and the tidal wave is growing bigger, beating against San and bruising his skin. “If Mingi did that to me I’d probably hunt him down and punch his nose off, San. I’d literally slap the eyebrows off of his face. You need to own up to what you did and apologize to Wooyoung.”
San makes a sound akin to a dying cat and he can feel himself drowning, tears welling in his eyes again and he feels pathetic.
“I know, Joong, I know, but I don’t even know where to begin. Being near him is so awkward, Yeosang is always clinging on to him and I’m telling you, if looks could kill, I wouldn’t even be here right now. We haven’t spoken since August, and it’s October, and I just feel like he hates me so much now and--”
“You need to stop making excuses, San, or else you’ll never apologize to him and then you’re going to become a hermit and never graduate and die as a little shriveled up ball of dust.” Hongjoong laughs at that but San feels sick. “But seriously, I love you San, and I know you love Wooyoung. I’m only being tough on you because I don’t want to see you like this anymore.”
“I know, Joong.” The older wraps San in a strong hug, ruffling his hair.
“I want you and Wooyoung to be okay.” Hongjoong says truthfully, pulling back to hold San’s hand in his. “I don’t want your friendship to end over something like this.”
“I know.” San repeats, resting his forehead against Hongjoong’s shoulder. “Thank you for listening to me, Joongie, I owe you one.”
“You owe me nothing, just make up with Wooyoung, yeah?” He reaches up to hold San’s face in his hand and smiles, all pretty teeth and soft eyes, and San momentarily thanks the heavens for Kim Hongjoong.
“Okay, I will.”
“That’s my boy.” He squeezes San’s cheeks with a mischievous laugh and the younger makes a sound of annoyance. “Now come on, you want me to buy you something to eat? I know a really good chicken place.”
For the first time in a while San smiles genuinely and nods.
-----------------------
It’s a week before Halloween and the weekend before San’s second Quantitative Analysis exam that his phone decides to vibrate until it nearly flies off of the old library table, prompting San to finally check what the hell was going on.
San rolls his eyes in annoyance and moves to close his phone before it starts to vibrate again and he wonders if blocking Yeosang would be a smart idea.
San considers actually blocking Yeosang but decides against it, taking off his glasses to message back the brunette to avoid any more problems (the last thing he needs is Yeosang being angrier at him).
San opens his text book again and sighs loudly, scribbling whatever seems important into his notebook.
San wishes he said no.
But, as fate would have it, and like it would always have it, San had to see Wooyoung, because no matter what, Wooyoung was always his priority.
Despite the nerves that shake him, he can feel them: the petals that attempt to bloom again in his heart.
-------------------
True to his word, San actually does arrive at the party on time, knocking against the door to inevitably be grilled by Yeosang.
“Well, well, well, Choi San actually made it on time.” Yeosang drawls, a sarcastic smile on his lips like the smearing of red that mars his features. He’s pale, skin powdered a ridiculous shade of white that accents the red on his lips that matches the red solo cup in his hand (San isn’t surprised; Yeosang has essentially drunk his own weight in alcohol at this point). “I have to give it to you, San, you actually kept your word.”
“I always do.” San tries, making Yeosang laugh, but it sounds more mocking than it does anything else. “Anyway, can I come in?”
“I guess your tires live for another night.” The brunette sing-songs before moving past the door frame and not putting any effort in walking alongside San towards the crowd.
There are, admittedly, more people than San expected.
Seonghwa is talking to someone animatedly, a pretty girl San remembers from his science classes, and moves to walk past them when Seonghwa calls him over, big smile on his face.
“San! Come over here! I haven’t seen you in so long!” The girl turns to look at San and huffs a quiet laugh.
“Don’t mind him, he had a couple of drinks.” She explains when Seonghwa wraps San in a too-tight hug. “I’m Dahyun, but I think we had some classes together, right?” San nods but her words barely register over the music. Yeosang is back and standing beside Seonghwa when the older pulls away from San and in turn holds the brunette's hand, smiling wide.
“Dahyun was at the graduation party!” Seonghwa shouts even though they’re close enough to go without it. “She’s so cool! She raps just like my favorite Twice member!” Dahyun laughs at that and San doesn’t understand what the hell is even going on, settling on smiling to not seem lost. The older two then go back and forth, with Seonghwa swearing that she’s secretly part of the group, and Dahyun rejecting that reality, Yeosang simply eyeing San.
“So are you like a fox or something?”
“Huh?”
“Your costume; it’s a fox?” Yeosang repeats, and San thinks for a second.
“Well, yeah, but I’m from a movie-- Nick Wilde? From Zootopia?” San shows his nametag and Yeosang actually laughs at that, a real laugh that San hasn’t heard in what seemed like ages.
“That’s really smart, you look like him.” Yeosang takes a sip of his drink and maybe it’s the alcohol that makes Yeosang soft, but he’s smiling at San like they were never on bad terms to begin with.
“You’re a vampire, right?” San responds, hoping to keep this sense of familiarity for as long as he can, before the switch is flipped and Yeosang is ignoring him again.
“Yeah, I’m a vampire, Seonghwa is my human-turned-vampire boyfriend.” He looks at Seonghwa and his face softens with tangible adoration, a moment of vulnerability before he’s turning back to San with schooled features. “I’m more than one hundred percent sure that we were vampire lovers in our past lives.”
“I believe it.” San tries to laugh, but just like that the flip is switched and Yeosang is walking past him and onto the dance floor, grabbing at Wooyoung and hugging him, their laughter muted by the music and overlapping laughter.
That’s right; San is here for Wooyoung.
The weird tug of war between anxiety and determination begins, one forcing San to look away and ignore the existence of Wooyoung while the other drags him away from Seonghwa and inches him towards the dance floor; close enough yet not at all.
It’s weird, being alone.
The dance floor is suffocating, bodies pushing and pulling against him in this hypnotic pattern that just continues to move, move, move, as if stopping it would make reality a little too real and ruin the whole scene; but that’s what they’re there for, right? To escape it all, if just for one spooky night, costumes taking up too much space to be comfortable, but no one’s complaining.
The light is too dim to really make out that many faces in the crowd and it doesn’t help that masks are worn to further hide identities, and San berates himself for joining the crowd instead of just going to Wooyoung directly, wondering why he is this way when he’s pushed into someone, cursing loudly before apologizing to the person in front of him.
“Hey, watch where you’re going!” The person says, turning around to scowl at San right as San is on his third I’m sorry, both of them stopping in their tracks. “Oh,”
“Sorry,” San breathes out, the words kind of jumbling on their way out. Wooyoung just looks at him with eyes that sparkle in the dark and lips that seem oh so inviting.
Wooyoung is ridiculously beautiful.
He’s staring at San, fingers thrumming against the rim of his cup, and San wants to scream.
“Your hair,” San starts, heart hammering like it always does in front of Wooyoung, begging to jump to its rightful owner. “It’s pink.” The color, much like his sparkly eye shadow and the floral pink against his lips, makes him even prettier than need be.
Even though the room is blaring with hues of orange and inky blacks, Wooyoung remains in shades of pink.
“It’s hairspray.” Wooyoung answers, eyes seemingly focusing on everything but San, the music blasting quietly between the both of them, their presence locked amidst the sea of bodies. “You didn’t think I’d actually dye my hair pink, did you?”
San panics; this is the most words they have said to one another in the span of almost three months, Wooyoung has pink hair and glitter eyeshadow, and just like when they first met and every other time in between that, San doesn’t know what to do.
“Haha, no?” Someone shoves by San with a shout and Wooyoung takes a long sip of his drink. “It, um, it looks really nice on you. Are you dressed up as someone?”
It’s quiet again, even if Mingi is screaming somewhere in the distance that hell yeah, I can totally drink this upside down , and someone is hitting a ridiculous high note to go with whatever song is playing.
“I guess I am.” Wooyoung says finally, the rim of his cup more interesting than the conversation they’re having (if his constant attention to it is any indication). “It was kind of last minute, so…”
“I think it looks great on you.” I think you look beautiful.
The bottle in his chest is attempting to uncork itself again, bandaged cracks trying to hold themselves together while the cork loosens itself with words that hang tangibly in the air.
I miss you.
I hate what I did.
I’m sorry.
“Look, Wooyoung,” The shining eyes are back on him again and San inhales deeply, reaches for the broken bottle that rumbles quietly in the depths of his chest and grabs at the cork, pulling, pulling, pulling--
“Jung Wooyoung, is that you?”
And then he’s shoving; shoving the cork so deep into the bottle until it can’t be grabbed anymore, wrapping it with bandages and throwing it until it can't be seen anymore inside the maze of his heart.
“Seungkwan?” Wooyoung is looking away and suddenly the music is too loud when it reinsituates itself in the cracks between them, making itself comfortable. He turns towards the other, who is dressed in all white except for the black around his eyes.
Wooyoung smiles at the other boy who gives him a hug and holds his hand, eyes bright as he looks away from San and forgets about him.
There is something about being alone while with company that feels worse than truly being alone.
“I haven’t seen my favorite underclassman in so long, how are you?” Seungkwan whines cutely, eyeing the younger and making San nauseous. “Or should I say Jimin? I can’t believe you actually dressed up like him!”
“Stop, Yeosang dared me to do it.” Wooyoung says behind his cup, cheeks turned up with mirth.
San feels dizzy.
He knows; knows he isn’t welcome in this conversation and that he should just leave, should just let Wooyoung talk with his friend and not stand there like some weird awkward third wheel, but he can’t move, not when everything feels uneasy and he’s left with words on the tip of his tongue.
“Well you still look amazing, and it’s definitely more creative than my ghost costume.” The other boy pouts, and then, as if suddenly reminded that yes, San is still standing there, looks towards the raven and gasps. “Oh I’m sorry, were you two having a conversation? Forgive me, I’m Boo Seungkwan! Get it? Boo is my last name and I’m a ghost? Anyway, I graduated with Seonghwa, I think you were at the party?” San gives more of a guffaw than a laugh, ugly and loud with nerves on edge.
“Yeah, guess I was.” Seungkwan smiles jovially, all pretty teeth and round features, and San wonders if he’s pretending.
“If you guys were having a conversation I should go,”
“No, it’s fine!” The words rush out of San’s mouth before he can catch them, following the sentence with a painfully awkward chuckle that has Wooyoung staring at him with an unreadable expression.
“Are you sure?” Seungkwan asks before turning back to Wooyoung.
The air is uncomfortable and San wishes he had a drink to shut himself up.
“Yeah, crystal clear!” Shut up, Choi San. “We weren’t really talking about anything important!” Oh my God, seriously, shut up. “I was actually going to leave anyway, y’know! Kind of getting bored with this one ha ha.”
You’re such a loser, Choi San.
It’s funny to think how, despite the constant screaming and yelling accompanied by blaring music, the awkward silence that followed is deafening.
“Funny joke?” San tries and maybe Seungkwan pities him because he laughs (albeit awkwardly), turning to Wooyoung who doesn’t look at San anymore (not that San could blame him).
“Okay,” Seungkwan drags the word out, turning to Wooyoung who looks embarrassed. “Um, would you like to get a drink with me Wooyoung?” The shorter answers with a rushed God, please and they are leaving, San mentally drowning himself in the reservoir of his pathetic unshed tears.
----------------
The rest of the party isn’t that exciting.
Yeosang and Hongjoong get shit-faced drunk, Yunho hooks up with that one girl from that other party, Mingi falls onto a table, Seonghwa dances a little too hard, and Jongho throws back shots without a sign of any buzz.
San sits there. Wooyoung stands there.
It sucks.
It sucks, and San knows why, and he swallows a mouthful of lighter-fuel punch just to feel anything but regret (but he just ends up with a burning chest and a scratchy throat; he isn’t sure which is better).
In return, swallowing a mouthful of whatever that was has him thinking, and San sighs out a long sigh.
He has to apologize. Wooyoung is standing there with his drink and he’s alone and San can just get up and pull him to the side and apologize.
It seems so easy .
So why is he just sitting there like an idiot?
San swallows another mouthful ( that’s it for tonight he thinks, hissing when he pours the rest down the kitchen sink).
He doesn’t realize how late it is or how many people are left until Hongjoong clings to his arm and begs for a ride home.
“San I’m like, so drunk dude, drive me home?” The older asks, slumping against San’s arm while Mingi stumbles towards them with a goofy smile.
“Babe you can’t tell him you’re drunk, he might not drive us home.”
“Shh he doesn’t know.”
San stares at them both.
“You’re lucky you’re my best friend or else--”
“I’m coming, Yeosang!” San stops in the middle of his sentence to watch as Wooyoung grabs handfuls of candy left over and stuffs them into his pockets. He’s turning and everything feels slow, the world is moving in frame by frame cinema and San is the director.
He has to say something.
"Wooyoung!" The words fly from San's mouth before he can think against it, pushing Hongjoong off and rushing over to reach out to hold onto the others hand before it's too late. With a shocked sound and a look of disbelief Wooyoung turns to him, eyes blinking with glitter adorning them.
Beautiful.
Everyone is looking at them, heavy tension finding purchase between the gaps of vulnerability.
"What is it, San? We have to go." Wooyoung points in the direction of Yeosang who whines loudly against the hood of Seonghwa’s car, a garbled mess of I don't wanna go home! and can't I just sleep over? while Seonghwa makes an exasperated sound. "Can't go home too late." He tries again, as if he doesn't live in a dorm and hasn't left San's house at 5am before.
"I want to say I'm sorry about earlier." San notices his hand still gripping Wooyoung’s and looks away bashfully, removing himself from the contact. "I didn't know what to say in front of Seungkwan and I freaked out, I didn't mean to call you boring." He can hear Hongjoong (albeit intoxicated) make a coughing sound that's totally not inconspicuous (even though Mingi laughs and joins him in fake coughing). "I had fun talking with you again."
"Oh." Wooyoung drums his fingers against his thigh, thinking of what to say while San stands there foolishly, hoping his heart isn't as loud as he thinks. "Thanks, San. It was nice talking with you, too."
"Wooyoung, hurry up before Yeosang slashes my tires!" Seonghwa shouts, holding Yeosang who whines incomprehensible nonsense. Wooyoung turns back towards San, eyes still in Yeosang’s general direction, and San just thinks he is so pretty (but what else is new?).
"Well, I have to go," Wooyoung sighs, but his lips turn up in a small smile that has San reeling in shades of pink and soft touches. "Guess I'll see you around?"
Like ashes thrown into the wind, San feels careless, like there isn’t a doubt in the world (not when Wooyoung looks at him that way).
"Text me when you get home safe?" It's a risky thing to say but the words slip from his mouth anyway, every nerve in his body alight with energy, lightening the dark with hues of yellow that blend perfectly with the pink.
"We'll see, fox boy." Is all Wooyoung says, lips turned up in a sly grin before he's jogging to Seonghwa’s car, the beating in San’s chest hits its crescendo as the black convertible peels out of the driveway and into the night.
Hongjoong makes a loud howling sound that Mingi follows, gross and loud noise that ends in wet laughter.
There are budding flowers in San’s heart and they spread, new petals attempting to bloom against his skin.
------------------
Wooyoung actually does text San, at 3:17am, and San feels like he just won the jackpot.
He had just finished washing off the make up from his face, only up at this hour because he had to wait for Seonghwa to return from dropping off Yeosang and Wooyoung ( “Can you please stay here until I get back? I don’t want to leave my parents home unattended.” Seonghwa had asked, Wooyoung shoving a very inebriated Yeosang into the back seat of the car. San had agreed, which made Hongjoong groan loudly in exaggerated annoyance. Mingi simply laughed so hard he doubled over and they fell asleep immediately after Seonghwa left, a heap on the doorstep that San had to drag into the home and throw on the couch.).
The message really wasn’t much; definitely different from how they usually text, but at least it was something.
San is so excited about it; they haven’t spoken in months and things seem to be somewhat leaning towards normal and not towards San crying himself to sleep for the next four months.
It’s also embarrassing , because San runs to Hongjoong’s apartment the very next morning, bangs on the door, and holds up his phone and a bag of fried chicken when a very small and very irritated Hongjoong opens the door.
“This better be good, San.” The older grits out, eyes half opened and hair sticking up every which way.
“Wooyoung texted me!” Hongjoong remains standing at the door and San fears the older might have fallen asleep before he moves away from his door frame and allows San to rush inside.
“You’re smart to bring chicken; Mingi and I are so hungover that I almost slammed the door in your face.” San makes a cute sound and blows a kiss to the older while Hongjoong rummages through his cabinets, groaning about the noise being too loud.
There is a groan from Hongjoong’s bedroom and some shuffling before Mingi is waddling out of the room, hand up his shirt and expression the same upturned grimace as Hongjoong.
“Hi, San.” He grumbles before walking into the bathroom while San removes the food from the bag, Hongjoong placing two glasses of water at the table with ibuprofen beside them.
“Don’t mind him; anyway, Wooyoung texted you?” Hongjoong wipes at his eye as he asks, sitting down at the table and attempting to fix his hair that refuses to go down. “Please tell me you didn’t freak out and actually tried to have a conversation with him.” San makes a sound in between a laugh and a rush of air the same time Mingi walks over to the table and sits opposite of Hongjoong.
“Whoa, Youngie messaged you?” The taller takes the liberty of opening the box of chicken and shoving a piece in his mouth. “You know what you have to do, San. Let’s see those messages.”
San hastily opens his phone and brings up the chat, face scrunching in a cringe before he chuckles awkwardly.
“Please don’t laugh at the conversation.”
“San you ran to my house at 10:48am to show me these text messages, don’t back out now.” Hongjoong scolds, shoving a pot sticker into his mouth as he sticks out a hand. “Hand it over, Mingi and I are going to read this.”
San inhales deeply before handing the phone over to Hongjoong, Mingi running around the table to tower over his small boyfriend.
It only takes a scoff from Hongjoong and a nudge from Mingi for San to look over at his friend's shoulder to reread his conversation.
It’s cringy; it’s so painfully cringy that San actually laughs, but he can’t help but feel something pretty bloom in him, the faint taste of sweet citrusy syrup in his mouth.
“Is this how you flirt?” Mingi teases, nudging at San who feels red creep onto his skin.
“You’re no better, Mingi.” Hongjoong responds. “You used to call me a minion all of the time and said I was small whenever you had the chance.” The taller makes a whining sound and plants a grossly wet (and sticky) kiss on Hongjoong’s forehead, making the older push at him. “Anyway, I’m glad to see you and Wooyoung are texting, even if it is cringy.”
“Me too!” San’s smile is ridiculously bright before he deflates a bit. “I’m so happy we are talking again, but I kind of… came over here to ask you guys for help.”
“With what?”
“I kind of want to ask him to meet up, to talk about everything? And finally clear the air, but I don’t know how to bring it up.”
“Just text him all smooth, all like, ‘hey baby’--” Hongjoong punches Mingi in the arm before the taller can even attempt to finish his sentence.
“Don’t listen to him, Sannie.” Mingi gives a big grin before reaching for more food. “Just tell him honestly that you want to talk to him.”
“That is like, the most nerve wracking thing to text someone.” San complains. “Do you ever just get those ‘can I ask you something?’ texts and then you’re addled with anxiety for the next fifty years? And if he knows I want to talk to him directly it’ll just make us both anxious for the rest of the day or whatever.”
“He’s right,” Mingi agrees before taking a large sip of water. “When I invited you to hang out that one day I asked you to be my boyfriend, you didn’t even know I was going to ask. You didn’t even know it was going to be the two of us.”
“I’m still mad that you made that entire plan just to ask me to be your boyfriend.” Hongjoong’s bashful laugh says otherwise. “But I suppose you two are right. I guess you can go with that?” Hongjoong begins to type something on San’s phone and the younger lunges forward, grabbing at it.
“What are you typing!” San yells while Hongjoong continues to type away.
“I’m trying to help you! I’m not going to send it, calm down!” The older yells back before Mingi pulls them apart. “I’m not an idiot San, I’m not going to hit send, this isn’t middle school.”
San looks at the message Hongjoong typed out and gives the older a look.
“‘Hello Wooyoung, I would like to hang out with you sometime’? Dude, what the hell, are you fifty?”
“I don’t know how you type.” Hongjoong states simply, shrugging. “You asked for my help and here it is.” San pushes the other playfully before grabbing his phone and sitting down with a sigh.
“Why is this so hard?” He muses, deleting Hongjoong’s words to start again. “I was able to text him about literally anything before; ‘have you seen this? Today is hot! I miss you!’ every other day and now here I am, not even able to text him to hang out.”
“Be casual with it.” Mingi supplies, throwing a bone into the empty bag in front of them. “Just don’t be weird, dude. Here, give me your phone.” Mingi grabs at San’s phone and types away for a bit before handing it back.
“‘Hey, I’m free this Friday, wanna hang?’?” San thinks it over for a moment while Hongjoong and Mingi chat in the background.
This message could change everything and actually fix the problem he started.
With a deep inhale San edits the message accordingly and hits send.
“I sent it.” The couple in front of him look up from their food and make their way over to stand behind San.
“I’m proud of you San, finally going to patch things up with Wooyoung.”
“Yeah, now eat with us while you wait for him to respond.” Mingi grins, wrapping an arm around San’s shoulder.
To be completely honest, San doesn’t feel like eating; it was brought more as a gift than something he wanted, and the anxiety of actually texting Wooyoung was eating him alive, but he listens anyway and laughs along when Mingi and Hongjoong laugh about something, trying to ignore his phone that sits face up on the table.
San doesn’t know how long it takes; they’ve finished eating and they’re all sitting on Hongjoong’s couch and watching something nonsensical on the television when San’s phone vibrates against his thigh.
He types back quickly, only noticing the older of the three eyeing him once he puts his phone down.
Hongjoong doesn’t say anything, instead opts to smile at San and squeeze his thigh comfortingly before facing the television again.
It’s only until San reaches over and hugs the older that Hongjoong makes a whining sound, feigning annoyance at San’s affection.
“Did he message you back?” Mingi asks as he drapes himself over them. San can hear his heart pounding in his ears amidst the noise of the television and the other two chatting on either side of him.
“He did, we’re going to hang out on Wednesday.” The other two exclaim in delight as San shows them his texts between him and Wooyoung.
“Wow, Choi San, you actually went with Mingi’s advice?” Hongjoong laughs, ruffling San’s hair endearingly. “Saying you need help studying… smooth.”
“I kind of do, though.” San replies sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I hope I don’t seem too eager.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Mingi says, jostling San. “Just go apologize to him and we can finally all hang out again.”
“I will.” San promises, allowing himself to be squished between them and for once believing it.
------------------
Wednesday comes and San feels like he’s being crushed between a rock and a hard place.
His Quantitative Analysis class went horribly; a two and a half hour lab turned into five hours because he had messed up somewhere along the way and had to start from scratch, making him leave at 5:25pm instead of somewhere around three and his chest feels like it’s under a granite block.
Luckily Wooyoung had asked to meet at his dorm at some time around six, but San was already running late, it took about twenty minutes to reach Wooyoung’s dorm by foot, he didn’t have enough to take the bus, and San just worries, worries, worries.
“Did you check your exam scores from last time?” Jongho asks while San shoves everything into his bag, catching his instructors attention with how he curses.
“No, I didn’t, kind of don’t want to.” Jongho just nods along, picking at the pills that litter his jacket.
“I passed, so I think you’ll do okay.” Jongho says, but something insituates that he wants to talk about something else.
San, for the most part, ignores it.
“I’ll find out and tell you then, okay?” He shoves his last packet into his book bag and begins to bundle up, the daylight already gone and giving way to the darkness of night.
It’s November, San remembers, throwing on his coat before he throws his scarf around his neck, avoiding the look Jongho gives him.
“Are you sure you’re ok--”
“I’m fine, Jongho.” San puts on his cap and slings his bag over his shoulder and he’s leaving, stepping out of the lab with Jongho behind him. “Just had a long day and I have to do something.”
They step in the elevator and it’s quiet aside from San’s beating heart, too loud in his ears and the too small space they inhabit.
It’s when they’re almost at the college lobby and the elevator dings softly that Jongho speaks again.
“I guess I’ll see you around, yeah?” He pats San on the shoulder and gives a light hearted smile that causes San to deflate a bit. “I don’t know what you’re going through, but I hope you feel better soon.” With that Jongho leaves the elevator, and San exhales, moving on autopilot.
It’s almost 6:30pm when San makes it to Wooyoung’s dorm, face red and shoes wet because he accidentally stepped in a puddle that seemed deeper than it was, his jacket littered in water droplets since it suddenly began raining, and San wants to go home.
San wants to go home, and shower, and scream into his pillow, because nothing ever seems to go right; but this isn’t about him. He’s fucked up enough. This is for Wooyoung (but isn’t it always?), because he needs to stop hiding for once, and--
“San?” Wooyoung is standing a safe distance from him, waving a hand to get his attention, and suddenly all of the shit San went through today seems irrelevant. “You okay?”
Not really.
“Not really.” Wooyoung makes a face and San tries to brush it off with a laugh. “I had a long day.” He follows the younger as he signs him in and into the elevator, and much like earlier, it’s silent.
No hugging.
No small talk.
Quiet.
“It’s pretty cold today.” Wooyoung muses, leaning against the back of the elevator, facing the door. There is (too much) space between them. “I hope you aren’t too cold.”
“My feet are frozen, if I’m being honest.” Even though he says this his body feels warm, a smile tugging at his lips. “I accidentally stepped in a really big puddle and it got up to my ankle.”
“Oh.” Wooyoung looks down at San’s feet right as the door opens and when he looks up, their eyes meet for a brief second before the other looks away, walking out of the elevator. “Well, I have extra socks if you need them.”
And just like the day the deal started, Wooyoung nudges at his door with his shoulder and nearly falls in, cursing loudly and causing San to laugh.
“This door, I swear.”
“Maybe it doesn’t like being slammed into.” San echoes, causing Wooyoung to give him a look.
“You can leave your shoes in the front, I’ll get you some new socks.” San obeys (like he always does) and waits, standing at the doorway while Wooyoung walks into his room, and everything feels weird.
San feels weird.
The last time he was here, he had sex with Wooyoung and kissed him.
The last time he was here, he ran out on Wooyoung.
The last time he was here, he hurt Wooyoung.
The acrid taste of bile finds its way into his mouth again and everything feels slow, even though San doesn’t want to feel this way.
I have to apologize .
His heart cracks the ribs it resides behind and he inhales deeply.
When he comes back out, just apologize to him. Tell him you’re sorry.
“I found some socks.” Wooyoung steps out of his room and all the words on his tongue die in his throat. “You can use these-- why are you standing there? You came to study right?” It’s said without bite as Wooyoung sits at the small table and San just nods along dumbly, following along and sitting across from Wooyoung.
They don’t talk while San unpacks his bag.
They don’t talk while he changes his socks.
It’s awkward, awkward, awkward.
“What are you studying?” The question grabs San’s attention while he sifts through his packets. “This seems like a lot.”
“Oh, um… this.” San holds up a packet that reads THE FUNDAMENTAL ASPECTS OF TITRATIONS AND GRAVIMETRIC ANALYSIS.
Wooyoung makes a face of disgust.
“I don’t know how I can help you with that.” The younger admits, laughing airily. “I can’t even read what that says.” and that makes San laugh, too.
“Ah, I get what you mean. I’ve memorized this more than I’ve learned.”
“Fake it ‘til you make it, right?” Wooyoung grins, grabbing at the packet and flipping through it while San just stares.
Wooyoung’s hair is back to black, the soft pink hair chalk long washed out. He’s wearing a sweater that engulfs him and pajama pants that San realizes are his, pooling at Wooyoung’s feet endearingly while he tries to pronounce the words in the packet.
San wants to scream, or cry, or laugh, or maybe all three.
“Wooyoung,” the boy in question looks up, eyes focused on San. Just say it , San thinks, leg shaking with anxiety. Just apologize to him. “I… really liked your Halloween costume.”
“Oh, thank you.”
It’s quiet again after that.
San wants to kick his own ass.
“It was really nice to talk to you again that night.” San tries again, focusing on the packets in front of him to avoid looking at Wooyoung directly. “Again, I’m sorry for what I said. I really didn’t mean it.”
“I know.” Wooyoung replies, voice quiet.
San feels sick.
There they are again; so close yet so far, the words right at the tip of San’s tongue and yet he can’t say them, suffocated by self-doubt and anxieties that render him mute.
He feels it again, as though he’s underwater; the burning in his lungs, the inability to breathe, the fear in his chest, drowning, drowning, drowning.
Everything, just like the day he left, is still blue.
---------------------
It was some point in October when San first met Wooyoung.
He met Wooyoung through Yeosang, who knew Hongjoong, who knew Seonghwa, who knew San.
From the moment San had met Wooyoung, he had sworn he had never met anyone more beautiful.
“I’m Yeosang.” The brunette had introduced himself with an air of uninterest, nudging the younger forward.
“I’m Wooyoung! I’ve known Yeosang since we were in middle school!” He wrapped the brunette into a hug that caused Yeosang to protest weakly. “We’re also in the same major, which is really cool! We’re dance and performance arts majors.”
“That’s really cool.” San had blurted, somewhat jealous of their ability to pursue what they really wanted. “Seonghwa and I are in forensic science.”
“That’s really cool, too!” Wooyoung exclaimed and smiled, big and wide and San felt like his heart was going into overdrive.
Wooyoung was so beautiful.
San knew he was doomed from the start, but for some reason, for this person he just met, he felt like it was worth it.
So he smiled, trying to hide the red that bloomed on his cheeks while Wooyoung talked on and on about God-knows-what.
“It seems like we are the same year, you can have my number if you want! We can study together and stuff!” Wooyoung chirped, smiling cutely while he held out his phone to San to exchange numbers. “I’m free on Wednesdays this semester if that helps.”
San didn’t know why Wooyoung was already so nice to him (and he still doesn’t know), but he agreed anyway, exchanging numbers and agreeing to hang out even if he was stuck in college until 6pm on Wednesday.
Maybe it was Wooyoung’s positive energy, maybe it was his smile that had made San’s heart skip a beat, but San was suddenly looking forward to the semester.
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San also remembers the first time he ever saw Wooyoung cry.
It was raining outside and they were studying, first semester of sophomore year, and Wooyoung had dyed his hair blond.
San was stressing over his Calculus II exam that was just forty minutes away and he still didn’t understand integrals when he heard it, the telling sound of quiet sniffling and a snotty nose.
It’s dark from the rain and the library was quiet and San didn’t know what to do.
“Are you okay?” He had asked, putting down his pencil.
He didn’t have to study anyway.
“No,” Wooyoung had said, wiping the tears from his cheeks and sighing. “But I’ll be okay.”
“You can tell me if you want, I don’t mind.”
“But your exam?” Wooyoung asks, looking up with shiny eyes that were puffy and red.
“I’ll cheat, anyway.” You’re more important.
“San…”
“I’m serious, you can tell me. What’s wrong?” Wooyoung sighed, long and tired and miserable, and San felt something in his chest wilt, falling apart in crumbling pieces.
“It’s just this stupid guy I was seeing. I kind of opened up to him and suddenly he didn’t ‘want to deal with that’ anymore.” The blond wiped his tears against the back of his sleeve and heaved out a little sound. “Why do I even bother.”
“He doesn’t deserve you,” San responded easily, trying to quell the anger in his chest at someone being bold enough to say that to Wooyoung. “He has no right to say that to you.”
“Well he did, nothing I can do now.” Tears slid down sun-kissed cheeks and dripped on the table messily. “It’s whatever. I obviously yelled at him and broke it off but it just… sucks.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, there will be someone who loves and appreciates you for who you are.” Wooyoung only hummed, visibly upset. “Tell you what; I’ll buy you whatever you want around here and I’ll walk you to your dorm after class, okay? I don’t have class tomorrow, so we could probably watch a movie or something if you want.”
Wooyoung looked up again, sniffling noisily.
San felt his chest tighten.
“Do you mean it?”
“Of course I do.” San smiled genuinely and Wooyoung grinned, cheeks painted a soft pink. “Come on, let me go buy you some coffee.”
Even though San was late for his calculus exam, seeing Wooyoung laugh loudly was more than enough to make up for it.
“Thank you again, for all of this.” Wooyoung had said, standing in his dorm staircase with San. “I really do owe you.”
“You don’t, seriously.” San responded. Seeing you smile is enough! He thought, hoping it wasn’t written all over his face. “We’re friends, right? I’m here for you.” and Wooyoung smiled again, arms behind his back cutely as he leaned against the wall, eyes on San.
“Text me when you get home?” The blond asked after a short pause, eyes blinking prettily in the lackluster lighting.
San was captivated.
“Of course.” He answered but made no motion of moving.
He could have said it right then and there, could have spilled it all.
I’ll love you for who you are.
I do love you for who you are.
I don’t want to see you cry over stupid guys ever again.
I really, really like you.
“You really are a great guy, Choi San. I’m really lucky to have you as a friend.”
And just like that, all of San’s feelings got bottled, never to be thought of again.
“I’m lucky to have you as a friend, too.” There is a beat before Wooyoung is hugging San, the only sound in the little, cramped staircase being their breathing and San’s hammering heart and maybe, just maybe the bottle had uncorked just a bit.
-----------------------
And to this day it continues to uncork, over and over and over and it’s painful, glass breaking off and cutting the inside of San’s chest and the red is back, filling in his chest in painful waves, gagging him on his own words and all he can do is stare; stare at Wooyoung who sits opposite him but is so, so far, and it hurts.
It hurts, knowing he caused this, knowing that he is no better than the guy who made Wooyoung cry that day.
It’s all so much, building up, up, up until San can’t handle it, a mess of red and flower petals choking him until he breaks, spilling everywhere his words dare to fall.
"I miss you." Wooyoung is looking at him from his seat, fingers stilling from where they play with the torn edge of his sleep shirt. "I was stupid, and I still am, but God, Wooyoung, I miss you so much."
And like a supernova the bottle bursts, star fragments and beams of dazzling light lighting up inside his chest until the words are falling, falling, falling; spilling all over the floor like the petals and red liquid from San's heart.
“I think you’re so beautiful, Wooyoung.” The boy in question doesn’t move, eyebrows furrowed in an unspoken question. “From the day I saw you, I thought you were so beautiful, I still think you’re so beautiful, and I’m so stupid.”
“What are you saying?”
“I hate that I’m so bad at talking about how I feel, I hate that I didn’t own up to what I did sooner, I hate that I hurt you.” It’s messy, literal word vomit as the red spills from his mouth, messily coated petals spilling with it, dirtying the floor and the table and all of the stupid chemistry packets. “I didn’t mean to walk out on you that day, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, I didn’t mean it I didn’t, I really didn’t Wooyoung--”
“Then why did you, San?” He asks, voice small and eyes inquisitive.
“Because,” San begins, the biggest wave pouring right out his mouth. “I’m stupidly in love with you and I was scared.”
It’s gross, how the red pools at his and Wooyoung’s ankles and ruins their shoes and the floorboards.
“I was scared I was taking advantage of you,” he continues, not realizing that he had been holding his breath from the moment he started speaking. “I was so greedy and I ran away because I’ve been in love with you for years and when we kissed I thought maybe you’d love me too and I didn’t… I didn’t want to hurt myself that way, and I didn’t want to hold you to a standard that you never even agreed to because I was stupid and greedy and I’m so, so sorry, Wooyoung.”
It’s silent after that.
Wooyoung stares at San and San stares back.
The rain outside still pours, the cars below still honk, and the world still spins.
Everything resumes, even if San feels like time has stopped.
Wooyoung doesn’t say anything.
San doesn’t know if he wants him to.
And Wooyoung doesn’t, he just leans forward and uses the pads of his thumbs to wipe away the tears that San didn’t even know burned down his cheeks.
His hands are gentle and San exhales deeply, letting Wooyoung dry his face, soft hands brushing away San’s fringe and calming him down.
Despite the quiet, it is loud.
When Wooyoung finally does speak, his words are soft just like the rest of him, quietly leaving his mouth as if he didn’t want to be heard in the first place.
“Can I kiss you?”
San says yes before he can think otherwise (not like he’d ever say no to begin with).
Wooyoung kisses just like the rest of him; soft and vulnerable, the chaste brush of lips evolving into something more and all San can do is gasp quietly.
Wooyoung kisses deep and slow, soft lips dragging against San’s sensitive ones over and over and over again, his tongue sliding out to lick gently across the seam of San's lips, the older opening his mouth desperately.
He lets Wooyoung kiss him until he can't breathe, lets Wooyoung lick the red from his mouth, just lets Wooyoung take and take and take , until the red is smeared against both of their lips and all that’s left are the petals of San's love for Wooyoung.
He doesn't know how long they kiss like this, with Wooyoung holding his face and him just letting it happen, everything but the sound of their shared breaths drowned out by the overwhelming beat of his heart.
San loves Wooyoung.
It’s overwhelming, this feeling, but he’s alright with it (because if it’s for Wooyoung, San will always be okay with it).
It's some point between San’s heart stopping and Wooyoung touching the constellation against San’s neck that the younger laughs, lips curling into a smile against the olders.
"We really are idiots, aren't we?" Wooyoung hides his face in the crook of San's neck and the older is stuck in place, blotches of pink bleeding into the room amidst the blue.
"What do you mean?" San breathes the words out, running on autopilot, his consciousness somewhere entirely different than his physical form.
It’s quiet again, but it’s different.
"I feel the same way-- about you, and stuff." The words are spoken shyly while Wooyoung hides himself further, punching San’s chest softly with a muted sound. “I fucking cried my eyes out to Yeosang the day you left. I don’t think he’s ever seen me cry that hard.”
Figures.
“I’m sorry.” San repeats, blinking away the blue from his vision.
“And then you just ignored me, and you seemed so awkward, and then you threw up on Yunho, and I don’t know, San.” He sighs, long and tired against San’s neck. “I thought it was obvious that I liked you, but I guess we’re both just idiots, huh?”
“I’m really sorry.” San runs a hand through Wooyoung’s hair that falls prettily over his fingers in inky strands. “I’m really, really sorry, Wooyoungie.”
“I really should punch you.” Wooyoung muses cutely, raising his head to look at San with pink kissed cheeks and soft eyes. “I should just give you a black eye for breaking my heart, you know.”
“I’d let you.” San breathes out, lips curling into a smile that Wooyoung reflects.
“I, um…” The younger looks down again and San doesn’t know when he’s ever seen Wooyoung so shy. “Do you want to go to my room? It hurts sitting in these chairs.”
San nods blindly, letting Wooyoung take him by the hand and guide him into his room like he’s done a million times before.
It’s dark in the space of Wooyoung’s room, but it’s okay, San knows this room like the back of his hand, knows exactly when he’s going to fall back against the mattress, knows when Wooyoung is going to kiss him again and again and again like San is his (and maybe, just maybe he is).
“When did you know?” Wooyoung asks in between a kiss, sucking gently at the swell of San’s lower lip.
“Know what?”
“That you loved me?” San hums, holds Wooyoung’s soft face in between his hands and kisses him slowly, savors the taste of Wooyoung in his mouth and against him, using everything he can to ensure that this is real.
“I think I always knew,” San finally answers, kissing Wooyoung wherever his lips could reach. “But I came to terms with it the night of the carnival.”
Wooyoung hums while hands roam in the dark, San’s skin prickling with energy and nerves when hands come into contact with bare skin.
“I fell for you the night you helped me get over that jerk I was dating.” Hands find San’s neck again and all he can do is gasp, laid bare for Wooyoung. “I had always liked you but I thought you liked Hongjoong for the longest.” That makes San erupt into peals of laughter.
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not, swear.” The goofy smile on Wooyoung’s face says differently. “But seriously, I’ve been pining over you since sophomore year and I can’t believe you’ve liked me this entire time.”
“Guess we really are idiots.” San breathes out with an air of humor, reaching up to kiss at Wooyoung’s chin that prickles with unshaved stubble.
“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.” Wooyoung grins before he kisses San again, lemony sweet with sparkles of clementine shared between them.
Reality.
That’s what this is.
San is sure of it.