Chapter Text
It was barely their first week as an official couple, and everything felt… magnified. Like suddenly, the universe wanted to spotlight the smallest, most mundane things.
Soonyoung’s phone buzzed in the morning. Still half-asleep, he squinted at the notification.
Wonwoo:
Good morning. I’m always cheering you on so always have strength. ☀️
Soonyoung blinked. Twice. Weird.
Then his brain smacked him on the head.
Dude. You’re dating Wonwoo now. He’s your boyfriend. And apparently, he is THAT kind of boyfriend.
“Oh my god,” he muttered into his pillow, smiling like an idiot. He nearly exploded right then and there, kicking his blanket off, tossing and turning like a high schooler with his very first crush. His chest felt like soda pop fizzing over, and he had no idea what to do with himself except let out a strangled groan into the mattress.
Still, his thumbs hovered awkwardly over his screen for five full minutes before he finally typed back one of the most anticlimactic one-word reply in the history of boyfriends—
Soonyoung:
morning
Simple. Safe. He locked his phone immediately and tossed it over like a dynamite.
By noon, he’d completely forgotten about it, busy with work. Then his phone buzzed again.
Wonwoo:
Good afternoon! Day is about to finish 😁
Soonyoung stared. Out loud, he said, “Oh. So we’re doing this now.”
Like this was the new program update, huh?
His thumbs froze above the keyboard. What the hell was he supposed to reply to that? “Thanks”? “Oh my God those were the exact words I wanna hear”? A sticker? An emoji?? He wasn’t used to this—no one had ever sent him a midday pep talk like he was a Pokémon trainer leveling up.
He typed “lmao” then erased it. Tried “omg” then deleted again. His brain was short-circuiting so hard it felt illegal.
Finally, with the gravitas of a man making a life-or-death decision, he settled on—
Soonyoung:
yeah lol
And then he quickly threw his phone inside his pocket because—goddamn—why was this so thrilling? Why was this so terrifying? He’d survived client presentations with executives breathing down his neck, handled unreasonable customers, even sat through three-hour budget meetings without crying, but apparently a ‘good afternoon’ text from his new boyfriend was scarier than death itself.
He buried his face in his hands, grinning like a maniac.
End of work day.
The train was rocking softly as they sat side by side, pressed a little too close because the seats were small and Soonyoung’s knees had zero concept of personal space. Wonwoo kept fiddling with his fingers, staring at the floor, while Soonyoung tried his best to act like this was normal. Totally normal. Boyfriends taking the train home together. Casual. Not world-shattering at all.
To break the silence, Soonyoung smirked and said, “Don’t tell me you’re also gonna send me a good night text later?”
He expected Wonwoo to roll his eyes. Maybe nudge him. End of joke.
Instead, Wonwoo blinked, stiff as a board. “…Why? Is that bad?”
Soonyoung squinted. “Huh?”
“I just—” Wonwoo’s voice sharpened, too defensive, too fast. “You didn’t like the good morning? Or the good afternoon? You think it’s corny, right? Shit, I knew it. I’m trying too hard.”
Soonyoung tilted his head, caught between laughing and panicking. “No, no—dude, calm down. I was joking.”
“Yeah, but you said it,” Wonwoo shot back, arms crossing tightly. “You wouldn’t joke if there wasn’t at least a little truth in it.”
Soonyoung gawked at him. “What? That’s not—hey, are you seriously psychoanalyzing my joke right now?”
Wonwoo narrowed his eyes. “So you don’t want a good night text.”
“I didn’t say that!”
“You literally just did.”
“Wonwoo,” Soonyoung groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re blowing this up.”
“Sorry for wanting to be a decent boyfriend,” Wonwoo muttered, sinking deeper into his seat.
Soonyoung froze. “Whoa. Whoa, timeout. Did you just passive-aggressive me? On week one?!”
“I wasn’t being passive-aggressive,” Wonwoo snapped.
“Wonwoo, you literally just did. That’s like page one of the passive-aggressive playbook!”
“Then maybe stop making fun of me for trying!” Wonwoo finally raised his voice. The old lady two seats down side-eyed them.
Soonyoung’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god. Is this really happening? We’re actually having our first fight. On public transport. Unbelievable”
Wonwoo groaned and just looked away.
Soonyoung grinned despite it all, nudging him with his knee. “Fine, fine. Send me the goddamn good night text. I’ll even heart-react it.”
Wonwoo turned away, sulking. “Who told you I’m gonna send it?”
“Yes, you will.”
“Nope.”
Later that night, Wonwoo sat on his bed, phone in hand, fidgeting like he was defusing a bomb.
What is happening? I thought I was killing it. Stupid Soonyoung. Why did he have to ruin this? Were my messages really that cringy? How the hell does one even be a proper boyfriend to a Kwon Soonyoung ?
He typed. Deleted. Typed again. Paused. Sighed. “Stay true to yourself, Jeon Wonwoo. Your words of affirmation is your best charm so go and use it!” he muttered. But before he could finish, his phone buzzed.
Soonyoung:
“hey… sorry if am being annoyig earlier. i think i went overboard. pls dontthink i dont like ur texts. i actually… really reallt really do. good night 😳”
Wonwoo froze. Blinked. Reread it. Blinked again.
“What the hell is this sorcery?” he whispered. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling. “Why is he like this? Why does he do this to me?”
And yet… he couldn’t stop smiling. He cannot help but notice all the mispelled words and misused punctuation marks but still, cute.
It was supposed to be a low-key dinner. Just them, sharing pasta, bickering over who ordered the better drink.
Soonyoung had an embarrassing tower of whipped cream on his drink—like, borderline architectural. The kind of whipped cream that deserved its own zoning permit.
And with a straight face, while spooning the dairy skyscraper into his mouth, he said, “You know, your resting bitch face could honestly be a very good Halloween costume. No mask required.”
Wonwoo stared at him, fork frozen mid-air. “…You’re saying this while looking like the poster child for lactose intolerance.”
Soonyoung just grinned, whipped cream moustache and all.
Chill. Normal. Until—
“Wonwoo? Soonyoung?”
Both of them looked up at the same time. Of course. Of course one of their colleagues would walk into the same café.
The guy grinned, eyes darting between them like he’d just caught a Pokémon. “Ooooh. This looks more than friends.”
Wonwoo’s fork paused halfway to his mouth.
Soonyoung just laughed. “Haha.”
That was it. No denial. No confirmation. Just haha .
The colleague gave them the standard eyebrow wiggle before walking off with his iced Americano.
Wonwoo chewed slowly, brain starting its usual nonsense. Huh. So that’s how it’s gonna be? Like… dating in private? He looked at Soonyoung, who was already back to stealing his breadsticks like nothing happened.
Then it hit him. Right. Soonyoung wasn’t exactly… out. Not to everyone. Maybe that’s why.
Wonwoo sipped his drink, deciding not to poke at it.
It’s fine. We can take our time. No rush.
And maybe, just maybe, it was even for the best—because that meant they could be careful about it. Careful with their relationship. Careful with them.
So he let it slide. For now.
And also, because Soonyoung had his last breadstick halfway in his mouth already, and honestly, some battles weren’t worth fighting.
One Saturday morning, it's the kind where the silence in my apartment felt almost holy. No alarms, no rush, just me and the faint hum of the fridge like it had something important to say.
Solitary mornings like this always did something strange to me—they made me rewind, go back to the days when Soonyoung was just… Soonyoung. Not my boyfriend, not my “good night text” headache, not my secret breadstick thief. Just a friend who wouldn’t shut up, who dragged me out when I would’ve rather stayed in, who laughed too loud at things that weren’t even funny.
Back then, being around him felt like taking off shoes after a long day—comfortable. Easy. He listened in a way people usually don’t. Like even my half-baked thoughts deserved to exist. And yeah, sometimes he annoyed the hell out of me. Sometimes I swore I’d block his number if he sent one more video of baby tigers.
But then, in between all that noise, there was fun. Real fun. The kind that sneaks up on you when you realize you’re not just passing time, you’re actually living it.
And I guess somewhere in there, without me noticing, he’d already started painting color into corners of my life I didn’t even realize were gray.
Now here I was, lying on my couch with morning light creeping through the blinds, thinking about him and smiling like an idiot at nothing. Which is unfair, honestly. A person shouldn’t be allowed to occupy this much space on someone else’s Saturday morning.
And then there’s the other thing—I still can’t believe he’s liked me for a long time now although I wasn’t sure abour the details yet. How did I found out? I made him confess when he got too drunk, and now… now I feel a little bad for exploiting his lightweight self. But also, I can’t stop thinking about it. What was I doing all those years, completely oblivious? I feel like such an idiot.
Despite being pressured by the unfamiliarity of dating a man, the newness of it all, happy. That’s what I am. Really. It sounds too simple, almost cheap, but there’s no other word that fits. I’m happy and stupidly grateful that Soonyoung stepped out, that he opened that door between us. Because now that I’m aware of his feelings, it’s like my eyes adjusted and suddenly I can see him… differently.
More than a friend. More than my chaos buddy. He’s my boyfriend now. Who is… not gonna lie, so cute. And god, I can’t stop staring at his lips. It’s embarrassing, actually—like I’ve developed some sort of condition. An addiction. A Soonyoung-lip addiction. I keep initiating kisses like I’ve got zero self-control. I just hope he doesn’t think I’m some perv who only dates him for mouth privileges.
Still… I look forward to more days. More mornings where he wakes me up with the most unnecessary phone calls. More evenings when he laughs too loud at his own dumb jokes. Just more of him.
And then—
My train of thought crashed and burned at the vibration of my phone on the nightstand. A text.
Wonwoo blinked at his phone when Soonyoung’s name lit up the screen.
Soonyoung:
are u busy??
Simple. But two question marks seemed alarming so I typed back quickly.
Wonwoo:
No. Did something happened?
There was a long pause, long enough for me to think maybe Soonyoung had fallen asleep mid-conversation. Then another bubble popped up
Soonyoung:
my laptop is acting weird 😭can u come over n fix it?
That was all he needed. Wonwoo was already slipping into his sneakers, keys in his hand before the three dots even disappeared.
When he knocked, the door swung open almost immediately. Soonyoung stood there, hair sticking up in chaotic tufts, oversized shirt hanging off one shoulder. His eyes went wide for a second, like he didn’t expect Wonwoo to actually show up this fast.
“Wow, uh—” Soonyoung scratched his neck, caught between shock and this ridiculous grin he couldn’t hold back. “You… really came.”
Wonwoo raised an eyebrow. “You asked. And I guess it was important.”
Soonyoung bit back a laugh, stepping aside to let him in, voice warm and almost embarrassed. “Yeah, but—still. Kinda didn’t think you’d just… drop everything.”
Wonwoo tried to act casual, brushing past him, but the truth was obvious.
“So, where’s your laptop?” Wonwoo asked, standing by Soonyoung’s door, already in his full on problem-solving IT guy mode.
Soonyoung blinked. Too long. Suspiciously long. Then he blurted out, “Wait…” another set of blinks. “Do you ahmm… perhaps like pork belly?”
“…What?”
“Grilled.”
“Huh?” It seemed like Wonwoo’s brain logged.
“Because I was craving for it. Then I thought—and don’t laugh—what if we had pork belly, right? Like, with kimchi and garlic and… oh my god, do you like soju? You look like you’re not in the mood for soju. Please tell me you’d like some soju.”
Wonwoo just squinted.
Fast-forward twenty minutes later, Wonwoo was pushing a grocery cart, staring at the suspicious amount of meat Soonyoung was tossing inside like they were feeding a small army. By the time they got to the beer and soju section, Soonyoung was holding up two bottles like he was solving the Da Vinci code.
“This one has 17% alcohol, this one has 16.9%?”
“They’re the same,” Wonwoo deadpanned.
“No, they’re not.”
“Soonyoung, I swear they are.”
“That 0.1% can change a life. It's like the difference between texting your ex and… texting your ex with emojis.”
Wonwoo blinked at him, torn between laughter and the very real possibility of lodging himself into the frozen goods section until rescue arrived. Before he could react, Soonyoung had already tossed the bottles into the cart and strutted away like a man who had won something.
So now, Wonwoo found himself in the most humiliating role reversal: following his “kid” through the supermarket. The cart was squeaking, his dignity was squeaking louder, and he felt like a dad in aisle 7 terrified his child might sprint into the freezer section.
And of course—because destiny is cruel—he found Soonyoung crouched on the ground in the middle of a random trinkets aisle, staring intently at a rack of keychains like they held the meaning of life.
The moment Wonwoo approached, Soonyoung’s head snapped up and his face lit up like he’d discovered fire.
“Look, Wonuyah!”
Wonuyah.
Wonwoo froze. First time being called like that. His soul briefly left his body.
“It’s us!” Soonyoung declared, holding up two ridiculous little cat keychains. One was a sleek black cat and a derpy orange one. Both looks like they just ate crayons.
Wonwoo stared at them. “…How the hell is that us?”
But Soonyoung, undeterred, was bouncing on his heels like a kid hopped up on cotton candy. “We should get it! Couple keychains!”
Wonwoo looked at the two cats dangling on their flimsy chains. They looked stupid. They looked lame. They looked like they were manufactured specifically to humiliate anyone over the age of twelve.
And yet—Soonyoung’s eyes were practically glowing, his grin wide and unguarded like he’d just discovered treasure.
Wonwoo sighed. “…Fine.”
Soonyoung gasped so loudly a passing mom actually turned to check if someone got stabbed. He hugged the keychains like they were precious jewels, bouncing in place.
“This is how you make a relationship official!”
Later on, Soonyoung’s place turned into karaoke chaos. They didn’t even bother with sad ballads; it was 40 straight minutes of Soonyoung screaming trot songs at full volume.
Meanwhile, Wonwoo got peer-pressured into rapping something he absolutely didn’t know the lyrics to so he freestyled. It was quite good. He ended up mumbling random syllables until Soonyoung screamed “BARS, baby! BARS!!!” and gave him a standing ovation.
At one point, Soonyoung attempted a high kick during “Bang Bang” and nearly took out the TV.
Finally, when Soonyoung’s voice cracked so hard mid-song that it scared his own neighbor’s cat, Wonwoo said, “Okay. Enough. Laptop. Now.”
Soonyoung gasped dramatically.
“Wait—WAIT. Do you wanna see me do a backflip? I swear I can do it. I’ve been practicing—”
“No.”
“I’ll do it with the grocery bag mask this time. Higher stakes.”
“No.”
“What if we grilled marshmallows first, just to, y’know, set the mood?”
“Soonyoung.” Wonwoo’s voice was flat. Deadly.
Soonyoung froze, lips pursed like he’d just been personally threatened by the government. “…Okay. Fine. Fix it. But just so you know, you’re killing art.”
He reluctantly handed the device over Wonwoo, cradling it like his own baby that was about to be taken away by social services.
Wonwoo ignored him and about to flip the laptop open, sat down, rolled up his sleeves, and prepared for battle. He expected overheating fans, corrupted drives, smoke coming out of the vents. He opened it, tapped the keyboard…
The screen lit up instantly.
Password prompt. Perfectly normal.
Wonwoo raised a brow. “What exactly is broken?”
Soonyoung leaned in, whispering like it was a secret. “Ahhh…The internet won’t work.”
Wonwoo clicked the Wi-Fi icon. It was greyed out. He stared at it for five seconds, then pressed the big shiny button that said “Turn Wi-Fi On.”
Magically (not really), the bars appeared. Connection restored. Problem solved.
Soonyoung gasped like Wonwoo had just parted the Red Sea. “HOLY—how did you do that?!”
“…I clicked.”
“Clicked WHAT?!”
“The button that says Turn Wi-Fi On.”
Soonyoung slammed his hands on the table. “THAT’S THE BUTTON?!”
Wonwoo just blinked. “Yes.”
“No, but like—that’s crazy. That’s… magic!
Wonwoo tilted his head, suspicious now. “…You didn’t even try that?”
Soonyoung’s eyes darted away. “I… was busy.”
“Busy doing what?”
“Buying pork belly?”
For a moment, Wonwoo just blinked at him. Then he closed the laptop, pushed it aside, and calmly reached for the bottle of soju they bought earlier.
“Fine,” Wonwoo said simply, pouring them both a shot. “But next time, don’t use these kinds of excuses.”
Soonyoung squinted at him. “Excuses? What do you mean by excuses?”
“Just tell me straight up what you want,” Wonwoo replied, tone flat.
Soonyoung blinked, offended. “Wait. Are you mad?”
“No.”
“You are mad.”
“I’m not.” Wonwoo clinked his glass against Soonyoung’s. “But it would be better if just tell me if you want company. No need for these made up laptop incidents.”
Soonyoung stared at him like he’d just committed a crime. “…You make it sound like I’m bothering you.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t, but that’s what you meant,” Soonyoung shot back, crossing his arms.
Wonwoo sighed. “No. It’s not what I meant. Just—tell me what you want so I know. That’s all.”
“Oh my god,” Soonyoung groaned, throwing his head back. “Do you want me to spell everything out for you? Fine! Yes, this was just an excuse to have you over. Yes, I wanted to spend time with you. No, I didn’t care about the pork belly, or the beer, and the karaoke. I just want to be with you! Is that so hard to decode?!”
Wonwoo just blinked at him.
Soonyoung sighed exasperatedly. “My God, Wonwoo, take the hint for once in your life!”
Wonwoo’s chest tightened. He knew he was slow with things like this. Reading rooms, taking hints—never his best trait. Sometimes he needed things said twice, maybe even three times, before they clicked. And here Soonyoung was, practically glowing red with frustration.
He couldn’t bring himself to answer.
There was a pause.
A long and uncomfortable pause.
Wonwoo finally found his voice, low and rough. “…I’m sorry. I’m too naive about these things. I’ll try to be more—”
“No.” Soonyoung cut him off, quick, almost tripping over the word.
Wonwoo blinked at him.
“I’m sorry.” Soonyoung looked guilty now, the redness on his ears creeping down to his neck. “I was being irrational. I shouldn’t be mad about… about stuff like this. It’s stupid. Shit! I hate this about myself, I’m sorry.”
Wonwoo’s chest warmed. He could feel the honesty, the soft little confession radiating from Soonyoung like a pulse.
“…You didn’t have to,” Wonwoo said quietly, voice low but steady, reaching across to brush a stray strand of hair from Soonyoung’s forehead. His fingers lingered just a moment longer than necessary.
Soonyoung’s ears burned brighter, and he ducked his head instinctively. “I should have not bothered you. You’ve just come from a hellish work week,” he mumbled, almost inaudible.
Wonwoo leaned just a little closer, just enough so Soonyoung could feel the gentle weight of his presence. “But I’m glad you did,” he whispered, his words soft but unshakable. “I had a lot of fun with you today.”
He really had. If Soonyoung hadn’t dragged him out, his day would’ve been nothing but him, his bed, a pillow, and a hundred ways to feel miserable.
Soonyoung stayed quiet for a while, fiddling with the edge of his glass, still not meeting Wonwoo’s eyes. “…Then next time,” he muttered, “I’ll try not to make up stupid excuses. I’ll just say it. I’ll just say I want to see you.”
Wonwoo’s mouth curved, small but real. “Good. And I’ll… try to actually get it when you’re hinting.”
Soonyoung finally looked up, a short laugh escaping him despite himself. “You? Taking a hint? That’ll be the day.”
“Hey!” Wonwoo shot back, though his tone was steady, almost stubborn. “A guy can learn, y’know?
There was a beat, and then softer—so soft Soonyoung almost missed it—Wonwoo added, “For you, I’ll learn.”
Soonyoung blinked, caught off guard. His ears went hot again, and he had to look away, muttering, “Don’t say things like that if you don’t mean it.”
But Wonwoo only leaned back, unbothered. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”
Something in the way he said it made Soonyoung freeze, warmth crawling back up his throat. He covered it up with another laugh, softer this time.
A pause stretched between them, filled only with the faint hum of the fridge and their breathing.
Wonwoo’s hand hovered above Soonyoung’s for a heartbeat too long, the quiet tension between them crackling like static. Then he let it rest, lightly, almost reverently, brushing against the warmth of Soonyoung’s skin.
The touch alone sent a shiver curling down his spine, sparking through his chest, down to his stomach, settling in a low, molten ache that made his fingers tense almost painfully.
He leaned closer. Not fast, but careful—like he was testing gravity and wondering if the world could survive this. Soonyoung could feel the heat of Wonwoo’s breath against his cheek, a faint tickle that made his pulse jackhammer in his throat.
Wonwoo paused, letting his lips hover just an inch away, tasting the air between them. The slightest exhale from Soonyoung, the faint hitch in his breath, was enough to pull him closer still, until the space between them was electric, unbearable.
And then, finally, he kissed him. It was deep, slow, and careful, tasting and memorizing every curve and contours of Soonyoung’s mouth.
Then Soonyoung let out a low, trembling groan, a sound that dug into Wonwoo, hot and immediate, sending flames licking up his chest, igniting the coil of heat already pooling in his core.
Still, Wonwoo moved slowly, testing, letting the sensation build, letting the groans and gasps and tiny shifts of Soonyoung’s body guide him. His hands slid from the couch to Soonyoung’s waist, fingers curling just enough to anchor him without crushing, letting every touch carry a warning, a promise, an unspoken dare.
Soonyoung’s hands pressed against Wonwoo’s chest, soft but firm, trying to hold him at bay while also pulling him impossibly closer. The warmth, the pressure, the shared breath—it was fire, it was heat, it was too much and not enough all at once.
When they finally pulled back, it was agonizingly deliberate, like neither of them could bear to leave the connection even for a second. Soonyoung’s lips were glistening, cheeks blooming pink, chest rising and falling too fast, eyes wide and dazed. Wonwoo’s own body hummed with heat, every nerve ending alive, trembling with the intensity of it.
He grabbed a tissue from the couch table, hands still brushing Soonyoung’s jaw as he dabbed carefully at the corner of his mouth, thumb brushing skin he had no business touching.
For a moment, his hand stayed there, cupping Soonyoung’s jaw as though it was the most natural thing in the world. His lips parted like he was about to say something—something important—but instead, he swallowed hard.
“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo whispered, voice heavy with everything unsaid.
Soonyoung’s lashes fluttered. “N-no… it’s fine.” His words were shaky, more plea than reassurance.
Wonwoo’s hand lingered one heartbeat too long, then dropped. He leaned back, eyes flicking to the side table, the floor, anywhere but Soonyoung’s flushed, open face. “I… I should probably get going,” he said, tone deliberately casual, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.
“Really?” Soonyoung’s voice was soft, almost childlike, the corners of his mouth pulling down just slightly.
“Yeah.” Wonwoo’s fingers fumbled for his phone on the couch, using it as a shield. “I, uh… have laundry piling up. And my sink’s acting up again.” His words felt flimsy even to him, a string of excuses strung together too quickly.
”Oh,” Soonyoung let out a weak laugh, thin and brittle.
Wonwoo’s chest tightened, but he forced a nod. He stood, movements restrained, like if he moved too fast, he might give himself away. He didn’t look at Soonyoung, not directly—just let his gaze skim over him, like a secret he wasn’t allowed to hold for too long.
“Well… okay,” Soonyoung whispered. The sting was subtle but sharp, tucked into the curve of his mouth, the drop in his tone.
Wonwoo hesitated, keys heavy in his hand. His throat worked as he forced out the promise that sat like an anchor in his chest: “I’ll call you.”
He lingered for a heartbeat longer, letting the quiet stretch between them like fragile glass. His chest ached, tangled with the thoughts he couldn’t untangle here, with Soonyoung watching.
Then, with careful, measured steps, he left, the door clicking softly behind him.