Archive of Our Own ^beta

When the water is warm, kissing the skin of his face first, sliding then through his neck, shoulders, back and abdomen, Wooyoung remembers Choi San and the summer they shared together.

Choi San. 

He was a surfer he met the summer before turning eighteen. Long blonde hair framing his face and small shiny eyes pointing at him when he tripped, face planting the warm sand. Smile already blooming on his pink lips, dimples digging deep his cheeks. 

Choi San was also the most beautiful person he had laid his eyes on. Stunning wasn't enough to describe him, mesmerising, however, was pretty close as, since the first moment he put his eyes on him, holding onto his hand and standing up, he couldn't really stop looking at him. 

Wooyoung would love to say they shared a summer underneath the sun and in between soft blankets, only sunshine and happy memories, but that would be a lie. Summer loves are complicated, and eighteen years old Wooyoung was new to love.

Still, warm water is always related to San, a beautiful memory from twenty years ago.

—

Mommy Jung likes to say the country side is the best place to relax, where a young boy with his arm broken can free his mind and soul. Jung Wooyoung, however, fiercely believes that's bullshit and that his bed is the best place to mourn over his career as a professional basketball player. 

Yeosang likes to add it's only a broken arm and that he would be playing like always by the end of the summer — or even sooner, as it was such a clean fracture. But no one really has in consideration what Wooyoung is losing with that: right before the summer starts, his opportunity to get scouted by one big university. 

It's over for him. 

All his friends received the good news yet, the only thing Wooyoung received so far is a new AC system on his room — gifted by his dad — as he doesn't has intention of leaving it any soon.

Wooyoung is sad, maybe a little bit furious, but above all, depressed. 

He picked his first basketball at only three years old, got his first one at six years and didn't doubt it on using it until it was totally destroyed. His dad bought a basket for their backyard that same year, at eight he was chosen as the school basketball team captain, at eleven he went to his first official game. 

He entered the high school team and when Hongjoong graduated, the title of captain was again on his hands. Happiness pouring directly from his heart, a bright future ahead. Wooyoung not only loves basketball, he is one of the best players of the country among kids his age.

Best player broke his arm on the last match. No university, even if you are the best, wants a guy with a fracture on his hand in the team. No one.

Best player hasn't left his room in a month now.

Not only he broke his arm, his whole life and future vanished into dust right in front of his eyes. It's over for me.

But, as much as he wants to stay in bed for the rest of his life, his mother would never allow it, quickly making a few calls and packing all his summer clothes in a small suitcase. Best player is forced to stand in the bus station by the end of June. Shit.

"Auntie is waiting for you," his mom says on that really hot Saturday, both hands on his cheeks, looking at him like he isn't an almost eighteen boy but the baby she liked to sign to sleep every night. "You'll see, this will be the best for you, sweetie."

Wooyoung sighs, grimacing at her. "How it's the countryside gonna help me?"

She smiles, almost as if she knows everything that's gonna happen in the next two months, making Wooyoung shiver on the spot. The brown of her eyes spark in front of Wooyoung, putting a warm feeling over his shoulders, making him feel a little safe. Just the same as when he was a kid and she held him between her arms to sleep.

"First, no phones, no worries," her finger hits him on the forehead, making Wooyoung frown a little. Her hands quickly move to his shoulders, fixing the fabric of his shirt. "Just fresh air, the beach, healing time. Maybe you can make some new friends."

His aunt — mom's younger sister — lives near the beach, in a small village no one actually knows about, so even in the summer is pretty calm. Healing time. They used to spend the summer break there when he was a kid, where he met Yunho, a super tall kid that owned an old basketball ball and knew about an abandoned basketball court where they spent hours playing and bonding over Pokemon. 

It's been years since the last time they went, mostly because Wooyoung grow up and preferred to spend the summer with his friends, playing Mario Kart when the sun was still up and climbing the fence to play basketball for hours with the moon as the only light shining on them. Also, because there was nothing aside from the sea there, a big wide ocean that could be seen from his aunt's kitchen window.

Boring.

"I'm gonna need my phone to text Yeosang," Wooyoung pouts, crying at the thought that there is no signal there and that the only phone he can possibly use is the old one his aunt has hanging on the wall, no screen and the white color already devoured by the time, leaving it yellow and outdated. 

"No Yeosang," his mother adds, leaning in to softly kiss his forehead next. She fixes his hair, one hand on his cheek, thumb caressing his skin as she lets him go alone for the first time in his life. "Leave everything in your room, okay? Enjoy the summer."

Wooyoung wonders how he is supposed to enjoy the summer in a place he barely remembers, with a broken arm and without Yeosang at the other side of his phone to rant on the long nights when depression starts eating the edges of his chest.

Yet, he doesn't say a thing and just leans in, hugging his mom, promising to make a call from that old phone once he arrives — late, because he has to take three buses.

He is only doing this because of the love growing on his chest, because his mother has been leaving food on his desk every night for him to not touch it. Wooyoung does it for her more than for himself.

The bus is about to depart.

Wooyoung only takes with him his suitcase and his friends signatures all over the cast on his arm. No basketball ball. 

It's not like he can play anyway. 

—

Wooyoung arrives late at night as he predicted, aunt Hae waiting for him at the small bus station. Blond messy hair greeting him, as well as a pair of different color shoes, big glasses hiding almost all her face.

His aunt was a surfer, as far as Wooyoung knows. Started on his twenties when she fell for a boy and she followed him to the countryside in search of the best ocean, finding that small village by the coast. She left everything behind for that boy, claiming she did it out of love. The boy left her just when the summer ended, but Hae didn't care at all, as the only one she fell for in a span of two months, was the ocean. 

And she stayed there for the rest of his life, leaving everything behind for his lover. 

Hae married no other but her surfboard — she called her Betty and Wooyoung wrote his name on it when he was only four — and spent a long life on her small house near the beach. Smiling. She stopped surfing years ago, when her leg got caught in one rock, bone getting totally crushed.

Even when it's been years, Wooyoung remembers how she used to look at the ocean from the window of the kitchen.

Same look on his own eyes, same tragedy.

It's kinda sad, and maybe his mother was wrong sending him with her of all her sisters. No complain escapes Wooyoung's lips, hugging the woman and happily answering her questions — habitual ones: how was the ride? Totally horrible, I hate buses, but not as bad as having to hear dad sign old hits for four hours (Hae burst in laughter) or are you hungry? I could eat a whole pot of macaroni right now but that's also my usual diet (Hae invites him to a hamburger).

Wooyoung is surprised the village grow so much in the past years to be actually filled with people and life. Lights hanging from the lampposts, illuminating the streets with a lot of different colors. Music sounding somewhere, nice to hear, shaking his feet in amusement. Waves crashing on the shore, sound exploding on his ears. Summer vibes floating on the air.

"Hae, aren't you gonna introduce me to this young man?" 

They decide to go to one small burger place, only a few people there. Wooyoung's fingers are playing with the napkin as the waitress — that obviously knows his aunt because everyone knows everyone here — approaches them.

Hae smiles big, resembling his mother (a crazier version of her). "This is Wooyoung, one of my nephews. You met him when he was this little," she moves her hand, raising it only thirty centimetres from the ground. Small.

When Wooyoung looks up to the woman, he is able to see the memories lighting up her eyes. She immediately smiles, going to plant two kisses on his cheeks. "Wooyoung!" She chants. "Of course! Look at you! You are a man now. Do you remember me?" 

"Hmm, no. Sorry."

There's quite that Wooyoung remembers of the village, he was fourteen the last time he put a foot there and things have changed a lot since that — his hair, for example, is still purple from when Yeosang decided to dye all their hairs because he was bored; blonde suits Seonghwa a lot and strawberry hair was made for Hongjoong but purple was weird on him. The only reason he hadn't dye it yet is because depression and an useless right arm. 

Truthfully, his mind really wants to remember the face of that woman from before, but he can't get from what. It's on her eyes, or how his nose points straight up to the sky. Or the shape of her lips, he is not so sure.

"Oh, wait a minute," she moves, back to the kitchen, and when she is back he finally gets it. His lips part in recognition, tall boy being dragged to their table. "Do you remember my son?"

Of course.

"Yunho?" The name slips from his lips, all the good memories exploding at the back of his mind. Refreshing as lemonade, bikes riding for hours, the sound of the basketball hitting the ground, laughs. Wooyoung feel how his legs shake, remembering all the scars kissing his skin because of all the times they fell. 

"Holy shit," the tall boy rushes a hand to his mouth, covering his lips before happily going in for a hug. Easy. Giggles bursting around him. Yunho is bigger than Wooyoung remembers, but what's important is that he remembers. There's happiness floating around him. "You look… different!" Yunho smiles brightly, hands on his shoulders, observing him from head to toe.

You look the same, Wooyoung wants to say, words dying on his throat. He feels happy yet a little bit sad, remembering all the matches he won even though Yunho was — and still is — one whole head taller. 

He shakes his head, examining him. Still the same smile, same face. He got taller and maybe a lot cuter than before, but still the same bubbly boy Wooyoung has saved at back of his mind as the only good memory from his summers there. 

After eating, they sit together on the roof of the burger place — that his family owns —, and talk. About Yunho's life — he never left the village but just got accepted on an arts school in Seoul, he wants to be a photographer —, Wooyoung's life — basketball and if he was still so smug about his skills, which he has to admit it's true. What did Yunho drink to get that tall and if he could draw on Wooyoung's cast (yes, he can).

"How did you break it?" Yunho asks, relaxed atmosphere, almost if it hadn't been four years since they last talked. Yunho is drawing so he can't see how Wooyoung's eyes turn as blue as his hair.

He shrugs. "Jongho crashed into me. He is my friend, don't worry, and I was— well, I wanted to get the attention of the college representatives that were watching us. So, yeah, kinda in the way."

Yunho only hums, a soft "I see" escaping his lips.

"It hurt," Wooyoung bites his lip, hating the silence that suddenly blooms between them.

"I bet it. Broke my leg two years ago while jumping into the creek, never cried so much in my life before," the boy tells, finishing his drawing with a chuckle; two sticky figures, one visibly shorter than the other, playing basketball. He even added a little basketball ball and a note on one corner ( summer 2013 ). Wooyoung presses his lips together, tightly. "What now? Are you going to college?" 

Yunho looks at him with big eyes, not a smidgen of malice on his body, still, it hurts to hear it. 

"I guess," Wooyoung sighs. And he doesn't talk about how he is the only one without a college scholarship or that he doesn't really want to do anything but lay on his bed forever.

Yunho hugs him again when they say goodbye, asking to meet tomorrow and Wooyoung only accepts because that's exactly for what his mom sent him there — he calls her at almost midnight and they spend a good hour talking when he finally puts a foot on his aunt's house.

—

Wooyoung can hear the sea when he wakes up, dry tears on his cheeks and a very intense pain attacking his arm like whiplash. He whines and rolls in bed, taking the painkillers he left on the nightstand knowing what morning would await him.

(Pain and devastation above all). 

He swallows the pills, eyes half closed, looking at the ceiling of the room he used to stay when he was a kid. There's nothing from his childhood anymore, just white walls and baby blue covers by the end of the bed as the weather is really hot — not as hot as the city, but there's no AC system there. 

Only the ocean breeze slipping through the open window. 

He stays there for five minutes, staring at the ceiling, mind numb, just waiting for the painkillers to take all the pain away. And they do, arm feeling lighter, mind blank. Yet the pain on his chest stays, digging deeper. No. Not pain. There's no name for that feeling. It's just the emptiness devouring him, fighting with his crazy heart, the only one that tries to keep him there.

The waves crash in the distance again.

"Good morning, sweetie. I prepared breakfast," there's fruit, bread, rice and mackerel on the table awaiting for him when he finally decides to leave the bed and crawl his bare feet to the kitchen. 

His stomach groans, hungry but not happy with the smell of mackerel filling his nostrils. Wooyoung picks an apple and gets almost teary eyed remembering how Jongho is able to split it in half with his bare hands.

It's been a day but he does miss his friends.

"Is your arm okay?"

I wish I could say it's okay.

"Yeah, itchy," he mumbles, biting the apple. Tasty. "What time it is?"

Hae, doing the dishes, looks through the window that's above the sink, the one that presents a perfect view of the blue ocean. Her blonde hair is all messy, collected in a bun that allows Wooyoung to see the small wave tattooed on her nape. It takes her a few seconds to answer. 

"Ten in the morning," she says, not even looking at the clock — if there's one, because Wooyoung hasn't seen it yet. He wonders if the sea is wise enough to give them that type of answers, or it's just that his aunt is as crazy as his dad says. "Are you meeting with Yunho today?"

Wooyoung munches slowly. "Yeah, I guess. Later. He told me there's a lot of new things I need to see."

"And he is right," she giggles. "Do you want to help me out in the shop in the meantime? It's only until lunch time, it'll be funny," she turns around to wiggle her body at him, smile already curving her lips. "Surfers are starting to arrive."

If he has to be sincere, he doesn't want to move. He is moody and upset, body feeling heavy as a stone, maybe starting to feel a little anxious. But does he have an option? The eyes of his aunt are practically the same as his mom's, making him feel guilty for just thinking about staying all day lying on the floor.

"Of course," he says, short. 

Are surfers funny, though?

"Put on comfy clothes," Hae smiles, using her shorts to dry her hands.

—

Hae owns a little surf place, or that's what Wooyoung calls it, even closer to the beach than her own house — and he can see the ocean from the window. If it has a name, he doesn't care at all. She sells surfboards, wetsuits and even offers to give surf classes to kids or starters.

Is such a small shop, yet very known along the people of the village — and outsiders, always surfers like she was, searching for unknown waters they can ride without a lot of people. 

This place is perfect for that; amazing waves, almost no one in the water. It is calm, Wooyoung likes it. Feels like he stepped inside another world, a place where he is not a basketball player. A place where he is just Wooyoung, he has no worries. 

What he doesn't like at all is how her aunt immediately tells him to bring the new boards to the front side of the shop and he only has one useful arm (not so useful at all, being his left one). It's obvious she is trying to treat him like she would treat everyone, not thinking of his arm and yeah, Wooyoung is happy to feel useful, but the boards are heavy and slippery.

He manages to do it without incidents with the first two, failing miserably with the third one. He loses balance, one foot sinking on the sand, body falling right after.

The sand meets his face in a matter of seconds, eyes closing immediately but nothing more. He wants to sigh, defeated, but knows that if he opens his mouth the sand will mix with his saliva and that's so gross. 

Wooyoung doesn't move for seconds, too sad to even stand up. There's people looking at him, but he doesn't care. He is starting to not care at all. Another world, another world. 

"Need help here, buddy?"

The voice sounds close, making him roll his closed eyes. His feet shrink, digging a way on the sand. Slowly, he rolls on the sand so he is facing the sky, eyes opening, so blue it makes him feel a little bit nostalgic. What he sees next is a hand, fingers moving above him, waiting to be hold.

"C'mon, we don't want you to break a leg too, right?" The person speaking has a strong accent that totally not matches his face. Wooyoung feels his throat close abruptly as he lays his eyes on the person. The boy. The angel. The stupid blonde surfer-or-something dude squatting next to him, big smile on sight. One of his eyebrows wiggle as Wooyoung remains on the sand, lips parted and nothing but a lost gaze. "Are you okay?"

Surfer boy leans in, getting closer enough to make him snap back into reality. Wooyoung moves so fast their foreheads bump and the boy is the one falling on his butt now, soft giggles making a way through his lips. "A simple yeah would've been okay."

He speaks so soft yet so low it makes Wooyoung skin itchy — nothing to do with his casted arm. 

"Let me help you," he reaches his hand again, holding Wooyoung's this time and pulling him to his feet. Hands perfectly fitting at the small of his back. Wooyoung feels the muscles under his skin, heart racing, hitting his chest like crazy. He is fit. "Perfect! You okay?"

Surfer boy is his height but with a better complexion, yet a tiny waist, blonde and tanned. Beautiful, maybe a little bit breathtaking. Wearing short jeans and a Red Hot Chilli Peppers shirt.  One tattoo popping from his collarbone and dozens of earrings.

Wooyoung likes this new world of his.

Wooyoung realizes he hasn't even said a word yet when the angel-like-surfer-or-whatever tilts his head, waiting for an answer.

"Yeah," he babbles after a few seconds, feeling the boy's gaze fall deep on his face.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Surfer boy smiles, dimples quickly appearing on his cheeks, eyes disappearing. Wow.  

His hair is so long, Wooyoung notices.

"I'm Choi San," he introduces himself, hand again in front of Wooyoung for him to shake it. "And you are?"

Gay.

"Wooyoung. Jung. I mean — Jung Wooyoung. My owner is the aunt. Wait, my aunt is the owner," he shakes his head instead, letting go of the hand and pressing his lips together. "I'm Hae's nephew."

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Surfer boy — or Choi San, because his name sounds beautiful as well — parts his lips, making a perfect "O" with them. "So you are the famous City Boy. Should've know it, we don't wear shoes on the beach. It's difficult to walk like that."

Wooyoung supposes that we refers to the surfers or just the people that lives all year in the village as he lowers his eyes to meet his white balenciagas pointing at San's bare feet, nails painted in purple. He wiggles his fingers knowing Wooyoung is looking.

"I don't like sand on my socks," he manages to say, still looking down.

"You need to take off your socks too, city boy," San sings, laughing a little. 

"But wouldn't I end up with sand on my socks when I put them back?"

He is talking about socks. He really is talking about socks with a handsome dude out of all the topics he could have chose . Great, Wooyoung, great. 

"Then," San pauses, shrugging. The way the wind moves his hair is mesmerising. Since when does Wooyoung like long hair? His first boyfriend was a member of the baseball team with his head fully shaved and all the girls he has liked so far had short hair. "Don't put on your shoes. Be free."

He stops to think about it for about one minute, silence only being interrupted by the screams of a pair of kids playing with the waves breaking into the shore and the chattering of a couple looking at the boards displayed in front of the shop.

San waits for him, almost as if he knew he would end up moving his only hand to his shoes, getting rid of them, one at a time.

His fingers shake.

"Need help?"

"Nope," he ends up sitting on the sand, looking at his banana printed socks and getting way too embarrassed. His attempts of hiding them are nule as San squats again, holding his right foot in the air to examine the socks.

"This is amazing," he breathes, fingers tightly wrapped around his ankle. "How much you ask for them?"

Wooyoung has to hold a laugh, hurting his throat. "What? You want to buy my socks?"

San looks at him with a serious face, nodding immediately. Wooyoung is almost lying on the sand now, resting on his elbows, looking at him from bellow. 

"These are the coolest socks I've ever seen."

"I bought them in Amazon," he wiggles his fingers almost unconsciously. "Plus, weren't you just giving me a lecture about no using socks just a second ago?"

"It was advice, not a lecture, but I guess you caught me," San says in a low tone, getting close enough to make him nervous. His fingers crawl from his ankle to his knee, pressing tightly, before grimacing. "I am a sock thief! I'm stealing your banana socks, sir, don't you dare make a move."

He makes a loud sound, free hand pulling from the sock and releasing his feet. Wooyoung feels both embarrassed and giggly, bubbles of happiness crowding on his chest for the first time in weeks. He recognizes it because it's been days since he wanted to laugh for real.

The air wiggles between his toes, kissing his now naked skin. San's body is still pressed against his. 

"Now give me your other foot, sir, please don't make things more complicated."

Wooyoung is happy to obey, moving his leg up and letting San take off his other sock. The boy hold them tightly on his free hand, the other one still wrapped around his leg. "Thank you for your collaboration."

"Treat them well," Wooyoung almost whispers, voice hoarse. 

"I will."

San stands up, helping him dig his now bare feet on the sand, feeling the small grains moving between his toes. It's warm but feels nice.

"See? Much better. I will take care of your socks," San smiles at him, crossing his arms. "I have this feeling we are going to see each other around again."

I hope so , the words die again on his throat, embarrassment taking over his body. He lets San help him with the boards, exchanging then a short goodbye as the blonde says something about changing into more comfortable clothes. 

He still has Wooyoung's socks when he leaves, so he really hopes they can see each other again — he can have the socks if he wants though, he just wants to see him again.

—

It takes Wooyoung only half an hour to get his wish accomplished  as San leans against the surf place, wearing a black wetsuit, hair pulled in a bun.

He introduces himself again, this time as the surf teacher.

Well, things just got better. 

—

Contrary of what he thought at first, Wooyoung gets used real fast to wake up to the sound of the waves breaking into the shore. It's relaxing, almost as if he is still dreaming. The pain that kicks him every morning slowly fading away with every wave, making him float around without the need of more painkillers. 

Being sincere, it's one of the things he quite adores after two weeks living here, next to the juicy apples Hae offers every morning for breakfast, his night meetings with Yunho on the court and Choi San. Of course he has to be in that list, considering how his heart keeps on jumping inside his chest with every single conversation they hold. 

Surfer boy, the one that totally jumped inside his mind and made a home there with his dimple smile and lame jokes in seconds, treating him like one of his close friends even when they don't know shit about the other. Instead of getting interested in his life, in all his experiences, San gets dead serious about Wooyoung's favorite type of sky.

He didn't even know he had one until San started talking about the starry sky that can only be seen in that part of the countryside. So far from the city the sky is able to shine, glow, every star brighter than the other. And Wooyoung finds himself not only laying on the sand, next to San, learning the name of every constellation that can be seen from this place but watching at the sky more carefully now. The pearl gray morning sky that greets him every morning, the bright blue covered in clouds, matching the wide ocean opening in front of him, the explosion of purple, pink and orange of the sunset. He can't pick one, because suddenly, everything is like art.

It's weird because when he reaches his room every night, Wooyoung is unable of control the bad thoughts that hold him from behind, making him twirl in bed until he is nothing but a small ball. But when he is with San, sitting in the sand while he teaches little kids how to surf or just sharing lunch together with Hae at the small table of her kitchen, he feels happy. 

Strangely happy. 

Unknowingly happy. A feeling not even basketball awaken.

Wooyoung is not sure how to call it. Love at first sight? Never really believed on it. Summer love? Sounds like a thing One Direction would write a sound about.

Whatever it is, Wooyoung wants to hold onto a little bit more, taste the happiness on his lips and tongue, get every single pair of socks stolen. Silly things that can make him forget about… Life.

Just like his mother wanted.

"Okay, city boy, we need to fix that," San drops a lot of snorkel glasses on the floor of the shop as Wooyoung does his best to arrange the wetsuits for sizes because he is dead bored and there's nothing more to do. His arm is firmly pressed against his chest.

Wooyoung arches a brow, slightly jumping to one side. "Hae will get mad. Don't drop things like that, Choi San," he nags, pouting a little.

Being totally ignored, Wooyoung turns on his heels to face San. The boy jumps over all the glasses to reach his position, putting both his hands over his shoulders. It's a thing San loves to do, pull him closer and stare at him from upclose until Wooyoung is a blushing mess. "She won't, surfers don't get mad. Plus getting mad is bad for the heart," Wooyoung rolls his eyes, avoiding his gaze, but it has to agree internally. His aunt rarely gets mad and that's impressive. "Now, fixing time."

"What are we fixing exactly?"

Before he can start questioning it, San shoots him a big smile, picking one of the wetsuits he just sorted. "You."

"That's not a nice thing to say—"

"Put on this and meet me in the water. You've been here for two weeks without touching the water, that's unacceptable."

"There can be only one mermaid here," he admits, admiring how San always disappear after his classes end to go into the water. Wooyoung started looking at him on his fifth day here, amazed at how the boy merged with the water so gracefully. So beautiful.

San smiles again. "Thanks, I'm honoured. But now, put on this, we don't have time." 

Wooyoung looks down at that wetsuit, not even being sure if that one can fit him. San is already wearing one, picking up his board and attempting his quick exit so Wooyoung can't say no to him.

"I can't go to the water, Choi San," he stops him, observing how his eyebrows move. Wooyoung moves his fingers, showing his arm, where now he has a little wave drawn next to San's name. "Broken arm."

"Can't you put some plastic around it?" he points, resting his weight in one of his legs.

"Even if I could," he totally cans and he does every time he has to take a shower, "there's no way I can fit my arm in this ."

San's eyes fly to the wetsuit, lips parting immediately with a loud cuss. He crosses his arms, catching his lower lip into his teeth, thinking. Wooyoung remains still.

Surfing with San would be nice, he thinks. He wants to feel the water and the adrenaline rushing through his veins, the sun kissing his cheeks, the water caressing his skin.

It would be really nice.

"Okay, I have an idea," San pops after a while, shooting a smile. "I don't think we have plastic bags here, you know, save the ocean," he chants, bending over to search for something in one of the drawers by the wall. "We'll have to be extra carefully with your arm then. Here."

He throws then another wetsuit. Contrary to the one San is wearing, this has no sleeves and it ends shortly, above his knees. Black and red, tight.

Wooyoung shakes his head fast, cheeks flushing red. 

"Honestly, I don't like these kind because I feel unprotected but it could work for you. I'm gonna be the one pulling from the board anyway. You just have to sit and enjoy the ride."

"I don't think I can," Wooyoung mumbles, taking a grip of the fabric. 

"Need help?" San quickly moves a step closer, arms pointing at him. "I'll take care of your clothes, no problem."

"No!" Wooyoung moves the counterpart step back, feeling the blood rush to his ears now, biting his skin. "I mean, the water. What if I fall? What if I drown ?"

He is meaning it. As San loves to say, he is a city boy and in the city there's not an ocean filled with mysteries. The closest to an ocean they have is Yeosang's pool and he almost drowned there once. Of course he would love to surf with San, but he is dead scared of the ocean, mixed with his clumsy ass.

San stays still for a second, shrugging right after. "You won't, the waters are calm today."

"I have the worst luck," he insists, raising his right arm.

Before he can say another thing, San is walking to where he is still standing, stopping just a few steps from him. It's enough for his hand to reach his forehead, where he flicks a finger. Wooyoung whines, covering the skin with his only useful hand. "That— that hurts!"

San chuckles softly. "I will catch you. If you fall," he adds, like it's nothing. "Now, put on this."

He presses his hand to Wooyoung's chest before leaving, picking again his board, hair bouncing with every movement. He is not wearing a bun today.

Wooyoung sighs. I'm gonna fall and I'm gonna die. 

It takes him a whole ten minutes to squeeze his body in the tight wetsuit, and another five to convince himself to get out because the cloth is molding to his body in a way that makes him blush to his ears, totally different as how it molds San's body. Weird. Embarrassing. 

He feels ridiculous, left hand pulling his hair every five seconds as his feet dig on the warm sand. San is waiting for him by the shore, letting the water tickle his toes.

"Okay," Wooyoung says, breathless, looking at how big the ocean seems right now. Shaky legs telling him to go back. His place was always the court, not the ocean.

"Looking nice," San gasps. "Have you thought of becoming a surfer?"

Wooyoung can't keep the laugh inside his throat, feeling both embarrassed and scared. His fingers rush to the back of his head, scratching. "I don't think I have what it's necessary to be a surfer."

"That is?" San is playing with the string of the board, the one they tie to their ankle.

Wooyoung bites the inside of his cheek with passion, eyes not leaving the waves. "Courage. Passion. A good hair."

His feet move along the wet sand, making a little pattern. He looks up at the sound of San's laugh, the boy moving his hair with a hand. Is long, so long. 

"Thanks," he coes. "But I think you have courage, and passion, and an amazing hair." San stops, one hand threading on Wooyoung's hair, bringing him a little closer. The touch is soft, almost velvety, fingers caressing his scalp, moving slowly until his hand reaches his cheek, where he pinches. When did he get so close? "I love purple."

His voice buzzes in Wooyoung's ears before taking a grip of his hand, taking him close to the water. It's cold at first, eating his feet. He feels scared as he sits on the board and San tells him to keep his arm out of the water.

They don't go far, just enough for the water to surround them, San moving in front of him as if he is part of the ocean. He sumerges, trying to scare him, exposing his forehead — punching Wooyoung on the chest as how amazing he looks right now.

"Lay down," San breathes after a while, both hands on Wooyoung's thighs.

"Excuse me?"

"Lay down on the board," he insists. "I promise you it will be nice."

Wooyoung shakes, still sitting with his legs wrapped around the board so tight he is sure it'll leave a mark on his thighs.  "I will fall."

"Trust me a little, city boy. I was born in the water, I won't let it hurt you."

The way San is looking at him makes it really difficult to say no, even when he is scared of slipping and getting his arm on the water. What if he gets more harm? Or worse, what if he gets stuck in whatever the water holds inside and falls so deep he can reach the surface again?

The waters are crystal clear, allowing him to see the movement of San's legs underneath him. Yet, he is scared.

He moves slowly, back pressed to the board, eyes close.

Again, it's cold at first. One arm up to the sky, water slowly covering his back, chest, neck. His arm screams with the posture, but the adrenaline rushing on his veins is enough to make him not feel at all.

"Open your eyes, city boy," San's lips brush his skin when he speaks, next to his ear. Goosebumps eating every single cell of his body.

Wooyoung opens his eyes.

And he feels like he is floating. The sky is wide, and blue, no clouds on sight. The waters are wider, and transparent. There's no sound aside from the softly purr on his ears, muffled screams sounding far, near the shore. 

He feels every worry left his body, a pain on his chest. Reality mixes with an illusion, where he can do anything, the world where he can be free. And the sky welcoming him, this sky is beautiful. 

With all that, the water is warm around his body.

—

Wooyoung falls on his knees a few days after that, frustration shaking his body as he can't get anything done correctly, right arm feeling like a dead limb, causing him nothing but problems — and it has nothing to do with how Yeosang, incredibly, got his mom to allow them to talk for a couple minutes.

As best friends, Wooyoung believed he would feel happy as Yeosang tells him about his summer, about basketball. He really wants to be happy and smile, but instead he get jealous and sad and teary eyed and mad.

It reminds him how he lost everything, how he still needs painkillers from time to time to just survive another night until the sea hugs him. How he can't even join San on the water, how his skin itches for that. It breaks the walls he created around him, the calmness of the sea around him breaking, sinking him.

"Hey," San's voice can be heard after a couple minutes, Wooyoung still sitting on the sand, looking at all the poured shells he managed to pick — to make Yeosang a bracelet as an apologise for hanging up in the middle of their conversation days ago. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Doesn't seem like nothing," San takes a sit next to him, hair still wet. "I saw you falling."

Fucking great. Now he feels even madder, and a little bit like crying.

"I'm totally fine, just accepting that I won't be able to even hear about basketball ever again without… without getting mad ," he explains, mumbling, not being sure if San actually gets what he is saying. He rests his arms on his knees, playing with his own fingers as he listens to Wooyoung mumbles. 

They stay in silence for a few seconds, Wooyoung's frustration fading away as if San's presence is some kind of medicine. After a minute, he feels more sad than mad. Nostalgic, maybe.

"Your aunt told me how she broke her leg," San goes all the other way, moving to one side, bumping their shoulders together, gaze still fixed on the surfers riding the waves. It hits Wooyoung then, that San left the water because he saw him fall, and now he doesn't feel sad anymore, he feels a weird mix of guilt and embarrassment. "It was horrible, still hurts because she kept on trying to surf. You know, she loves it with her whole heart. Even now, that she can't go in the water like before."

Wooyoung sniffles. "I don't know what you are trying to tell me, Choi San."

"First, it's been almost three weeks, call me just San," he speaks, giving him a pat on the thigh. "Second, every time you feel sad, think of your aunt. You two have the same blood, passion runs in the family."

"Are you telling me to open a basketball shop? Train a team, maybe?"

San chuckles. "I'm saying you are allowed to feel sad, mad or whatever. Just don't try to push that out of your mind. You love basketball?"

"Yeah."

"Nice! You don't need to get rid of that love. It's still early, your wound still hurts, but believe me, it will go away," San puts his hand over his thigh again, rubbing a little before jumping into the water again. "And, scars are sexy," he winks. 

San's words keep rambling on his mind for the rest of the day, making him unable of sleeping that night. Next day, he walks to him in an attempt of thanking him — and punching his shoulder for taking over his thoughts once again.

They end up sharing an ice cream instead. 

—

The village is small enough for the old woman that sells sunflowers near the beach to remember him, even when it's been years and there's no sunflowers on Wooyoung's mind. 

For that, Wooyoung isn't surprised San and Yunho are close friends when they gather one night on the burger place to chat, because they're all teenagers and that's what teenagers do.

Also, it's San's birthday. 

Wooyoung found it thanks to his aunt due to San's efforts on not sharing nothing way too personal (he loves to talk about the sky, the sea and life, because Wooyoung has been receiving a lot of life lectures lately. Wooyoung is starting to think San gets melancholic with sunsets and needs to share his deep thoughts with someone and Wooyoung is always there, looking at him). He immediately went to tell Yunho, because it's been almost a month and he likes San. 

In the city, they go partying with every single birthday, but on the countryside, there's a big homemade cake and flower crowns. San is focused on Wooyoung's hair, braiding it, when someone approaches their table. Wooyoung doesn't remember seeing him around until now.

"Yah, Mingi-ah," San fake nags at the new boy, one arm falling onto Wooyoung's shoulder. The boy whines a little with the lack of touch on his scalp, lips pressed together. "You are late."

"Sorry, old man, I was riding the biggest wave you'd ever dream off," Mingi says with a big smile, taking a sit next to Yunho. His eyes quickly fall on Wooyoung, surprised to find him there. "Uh huh, hello. New boyfriend?"

Wooyoung feels the air stagnate inside his chest, body fidgeting on the spot. "Uh—"

"This is Wooyoung," San quickly answers, raising his broken arm in the air and waving carefully, without harming him. "City boy, basketball pro, broken arm (ow), moves like a duck though, beautiful skin," he makes a little pause to pinch his cheek, "basketball frustrated too. Oh, and Hae's nephew."

The younger doesn't know what to feel about the whole introduction San did, getting stuck in the fact he thinks his skin is beautiful — he is conscious of how the tip of his ears must have gone red by now. 

Mingi parts his lips, eyes widening.

"That's him," he says, almost as if he knows him, making Wooyoung wonder about how much his aunt likes to talk about him. "I'm Song Mingi, from Incheon," he reaches out a hand, big and callous.

City boy , bugs on Wooyoung's mind.

"Mingi comes every summer to help on the shop, even when he is always late," San adds, finally letting go of his hand, and Mingi rolls his eyes. One second later San is leaning in, covering his mouth with his hand, whispering into Wooyoung's ear. "He has this fat crush on Yunho, what if we ditch them later? Bet they're dying to kiss."

Wooyoung curves his eyebrows, almost smiling. He mouths a "What?" before Mingi is all over the table, trying to hit him with his bag. 

"What are you saying, Choi San!"

San laughs, high pitched screams filing the small local only occupied by them now. Next to Mingi, Yunho is trying to hold back a smile that totally assures he wouldn't be mad if they decided to leave them alone for a couple hours.

Noted.

When San goes to the bathroom, Yunho takes the chance to bring the cake and put the candles on in, Wooyoung being able to introduce himself to Mingi properly then.

"Your aunt talks a lot about you, and Yunho too," Mingi points at the boy, who isn't scared of nodding in agreement, as if Wooyoung was that of an unforgettable person. It makes his chest swell with a warming feeling. "You look different though."

"How different?"

Mingi shrugs.

"Calmer," he starts, then adds: "Sad eyes."

He doesn't have time to question it, San exiting the bathroom then, putting on his best surprised face. He blows the candles, putting his hands together as he makes a wish. Face glowing, hair filled with daisy petals. 

Wooyoung wonders if his aunt told San about him way before they even met.

Later that night, Yunho takes them to the basketball court they used to play in when they were kids, where they've been going for almost four weeks (Yunho plays, Wooyoung sits and watches how smoothly he moves while breaking every single rule). It looks exactly the same, almost as if years hadn't passed at all, time only taking a hold of their bodies.

Wooyoung doesn't feel like — almost — eighteen anymore. He's already twenty five and a little depressed. 

He aches at the way his stomach clenches with the sound of the ball hitting the ground, sending pain lashes down his spine. His fingers crave to reach for the ball but his legs refuse to move.

So he stays aside, back pressed to the fence, fingers lazing with the wire. 

His eyes move slowly, following the one-to-one match Yunho and Mingi started, both of them tall enough to block each other's free shots, but not coordinated enough to play well. Yunho doesn't respects the rules and just runs around without bouncing the ball, Mingi uses his feet to steal it from him.

A part of his brain is on fire, looking at them play so badly. But another one, that tiny part that was starting to love the beach, the water and the sky, is at peace. They are having fun, playing basketball at night. 

Not professional, not thinking about every single step before making it. Just enjoying the game.

Like he should've do it.

And he remembers San's words. One day it will go away.

When was the last time he played because he wanted to have fun and not because he wanted to show everyone how good of a player he was? It's been months? Years?

Was it with Yunho, on that same court? 

His body ends up giving up, sitting on the floor, eyes gazing at his arm.

"Saw you falling again. I think this is our thing now," San's voice sounds close, popping his bubble of thoughts. The boy doesn't wait for him to reply back with whatever shit he is thinking when San is already throwing himself on the floor, head resting on Wooyoung's lap. He smiles when their gazes meet. "Hi there."

"Hey."

He was so lost on his own thoughts that he forgot about San, whatever he was doing until now. Maybe watching the match next to him, maybe watching him. 

"What happened now?" San wiggles a brow. "It's because of your useless arm?" Wooyoung groans. "Don't worry, I'm only good on the water. And look at Mingi, bet it's his first time holding a ball. Yet, we still can make some fun."

"No, it's not that."

"Then?" San is bouncing his body, as if a song is playing inside his head as the sounds that break the silence — Mingi's screams, Yunho's laughter and the crickets — aren't good enough to dance to.

"I'm not gonna play basketball again," Wooyoung admits in a mumble. "Professionally."

He pauses for a second, lump on his throat. They've talked about this, yet he needs to said it again. Get rid of what's been eating him alive. Not the jealousy, but the losing. "The fracture was clean, but they had to surgically operate me two times. My professional career died even before it could start. I know is the silliest thing you've heard about, that there are people worse than me, that I didn't lose the sensitivity of my arm. But—"

"Lay with me," San interrupts him, standing from his lap and taking a place on the floor, face facing the starry sky. "C'mon."

Wooyoung grunts, but still obeys, laying next to him on the warm floor. The sky above them is as beautiful as the blue sky, dozen of stars painting the black canvas. Something he could never see in the city. Something he can see only thanks to San.

"I'm sorry," he bites his tongue, nails scratching the cast. But I feel like I am nothing without basketball. 

"Do you know something about stars?" San ignores him, moving on the floor until their shoulders bump. Wooyoung shakes his negative, knowing about the stars what everyone knows: they're dead. "Great! Because I don't know either. But aren't they beautiful?"

"Yeah," he says, low, voice dying.

"I love stargazing. It makes me feel conscious of my own life, what I have, what I am living. We're so insignificant, Wooyoung. We are here, trying to make our best to keep on living, measuring every word we say, not being able to go to sleep without worry biting our brain. And the stars… Stars are out there, shining even when it's been so long since they died. Stars give three fucks about what others says."

There's a brief moment of silence as San stops, frowns and then covers his eyes with both hands. For a second, or ten hundred years, Wooyoung doesn't really knows as time stops around them.

"I'm sure that, if stars can do it, we can. I mean, we are still alive," he turns his head to his left, crickets intensifying their concert, finding Wooyoung's eyes fixed on him. When he speaks again, his voice is soft, almost a whisper. "Who cares about professional basketball? There are a lot of things that can make you shine, Wooyoung. Please, don't wait to be dead."

There's a single tear sliding through Wooyoung's cheek, being practically unnoticed until it reaches his lips. Salty.

He nods, swallowing everything crowding on his throat, fingers finding San's. 

They hold hands for a while, just stargazing. 

And it's beautiful. 

—

Four weeks go by without Wooyoung noticing how fast time can go when he is not curled down his bed but moving around the shop, helping the customers that come in to try some wetsuits or ask for surf classes.

The tiredness taking over his body is so hard he doesn't need a lot to fall asleep every night, dreaming of the sea, and San. 

Without a doubt, he fell for San somewhere along those days. Not for his looks, not for how he looks while tying up his hair, not for how his fingers always find a way to Wooyoung's hand under the table, neither for the way San puts his hands on his hips while teaching him how to surf. That's secondary. 

It's his mind what's been dragging Wooyoung to the bottom of the sea, pulling from his feet, hard, preventing him to breathe. 

His lungs ache, on fire, his eyes wide open still looking at the sky.  

San is like a fresh mouthful of air filling his lungs. 

San's words are still stuck on his head, slowly replacing all the depressing ones that were making him company on his loneliness. 

It makes Wooyoung skin itchy, because it's summer, and it's love, and San looks so perfect under the sun.

And, by the end of the summer, Wooyoung would be three buses away from him. Rock bottom.

By the end of July, Wooyoung feels breathless, fingers moving slowly over San's hair. It smells like salt and a little bit like honey. If the sun had an smell, Wooyoung is sure it'd be San's smell. Soft, yet a little bit strong, staying glued to his clothes for hours, making his head dizzy at night because everything he can smell is San.

Sitting on the bathtub, fully clothed but without shoes — and, obviously, socks —, Wooyoung braids his hair. 

There's not a logic reason to explain why they are sitting there, because everything San does is unpredictable. Just because he feels like sitting there and talk. Wooyoung doesn't questions him. 

"Why do you like my hair so much?" San asks after a while, getting tired of the games Wooyoung has on his phone and moving his head back, trying to look at him.

Wooyoung hits him, slowly, silently telling him to look forward so he can keep his job. 

"Why?" He insists, moving backwards then, pressing his back to Wooyoung's chest in a way of catching his attention.

"I dunno. It's like the sky, it makes me feel things," he blurts, pouty. 

San chuckles. "My hair? That's the first time someone says that."

Wooyoung shrugs even when San can't see him. Carefully, he pushes him from the shoulders, making space for him to keep braiding. "It's not your hair, it's—"

He bites his tongue. No, Wooyoung, it's too soon to be confessing to the nice surfer boy that's doing nothing but keep you company because you look pathetic.

"Hmmm?"

"Nothing.”

What he wants to say, It's you. I like you, and how my fingers get lost in the golden of your hair.

"It suits you, that's all," is what he says, fingers shaking a little. "Braids suit you." 

San doesn't ask more questions, starting to hum a song instead. 

—

By the start of August, Wooyoung can admit he is head over heels San. And maybe it's because they spend so much time together that Yunho has started to said they must be glued by the hip.

It doesn't help at all that San only laughs and hugs him, never voicing out his thoughts.

Not when Mingi asks if they have something more intimate than friendship, nor when Yunho's mom tell them they are such a cute couple as they share a hamburger after San's afternoon shift with the kids.

And Wooyoung wants to die, because he already made a home in the bottom of the ocean. Water being his only friend; San knows how to swim, that's his home, where he was born. Everything feels new for Wooyoung. But still, he feels lonely.

Ironic, because the village has burst in colorful lights and loud voices as some kind of festival — he has no clue about, something about the summer — is around the corner. San says is just a celebration that started with kids helping the baby turtles find the way to the water but ended up being a little more city -like, forgetting about baby turtles and centering on fireworks.

Hae is also participating on the festival, making shell necklaces and actually helping the turtles at night. Wooyoung doesn't doubt on helping, waking up earlier to decorate the small shop, putting lights everywhere. To be true, he is a little bit excited. It's been years since the last time he went to a festival, and right now he needs a distraction from the love demons pinching his chest every time San purrs his name.

"Wooyoung," here he is again, body tensing at the only sound of his name. "Need help?" 

Wooyoung is having trouble putting the lights with just one hand, but he needs to put all his attention in something that's not how San's hair is so long now he can put it on a ponytail.

"Nope. I can do it," he mumbles, not even looking down. The stairs shake a little under his weight.

"You will fall, city boy," San points. Wooyoung can't look at him — because, well, he doesn't want to actually fall and break a leg — but he is sure the boy is crossing his arms, smile already on his lips. One month is enough to know that. "I will catch you, of course, but what if we avoid getting hurt? It's not a hobby of mine."

Wooyoung sighs. "I'm perfectly fine, San—"

His voice dies on his throat as he misses a step, literally falling. Fucking great.

As he was told, San manages to catch him even with the short time he has to react, both of them meeting the sand.

One of San's arms is tightly wrapped around his waist, the other one protecting his head, resting it next to his heart. Heartbeats breaking through his skin, going fast.

"I remember telling you who cares about professional basketball but, man, don't try to break a leg," San scoffs into his hair.

Wooyoung remains silent as they roll on the sand, San finally letting go of him to take his place up the stairs and fix the lights in a matter of seconds. He turns to look at him over his shoulder, giving him a smug smile and a thumbs up.

"Thanks," Wooyoung says even so when he jumps back.

"My pleasure. I was thinking," San stops, twirling with grace, hands on his back. "Do you want to come to the festival with me?"

"Huh? Do I really give that vibe off?" Wooyoung frowns, examining San's face. He is a little serious, real serious. Different from what he had been showing around for the past month. "I'm coming, it seems fun. No need to worry. I won't stay on my room, I promise."

First, San laughs, looking at his feet. 

Second, he looks up with the tips of his ears starting to get some color.

"I mean in as in go together. You and me."

"Like… a date ?" The words slips through his lips, finally being able to get out of his throat, betraying him in the worst moment. He can't do anything but press his lips together, waiting for the judgemental gaze or the awkward laugh—

"Yeah," San breathes. "A date. Wow," he puts a hand on his chest, almost as if he is having a hard time. "I thought you'd reject me. I was scared."

"Oh."

Oh.

Wooyoung starts screaming internally, the ocean surrounding him getting less darker. He can see the light breaking through the water.

"Wait, you accept right?" San snaps back, looking at him. "I felt something, you know, between you and me. Maybe is because I've drank tons of salty water over the years, it can be, but—"

"I do," Wooyoung says, voice hoarse, blushing in a second. "I mean, I'll go. Yeah. Let's go together."

That's enough to make a smile bloom on San's face, so contagious Wooyoung himself it's smiling after a couple seconds, a weird feeling biting his cheeks before San can jump next to him, both hands on his cheeks. Back at normal, but a little different. 

They're the same height, San being so tiny and slim, yet Wooyoung feels small next to him.

"Thank the ocean," San breathes again, circling his thumbs over his skin. "Tell me one more thing. I am right?" Wooyoung stares at him, not a clue about what he is talking about. "About us. Feelings. Or maybe just desire. Something?" He tilts his head. "Because I've noticed how you look at me and I've been dying for weeks now to kiss you, so—"

Wooyoung's heart is jumping inside his chest, not even trying to hide the excitement rushing through his veins as he closes the gap between them, lips falling hard onto San's, arm desperately wrapping around his neck. Chests pressed together, one of San's arms moving to his neck.

"I'm sorry," Wooyoung moves back, catching his lower lip into his teeth, moving just the necessary to speak, whining just after that, holding his broken arm with his hand. He forgot. "Au."

San breaks in a smile.

"Idiot," he mumbles, catching him in another kiss, this time going deeper. Moving slowly, tasting it first, pressing his tongue against Wooyoung's teeth shyly, nicely asking for it before Wooyoung is allowing him with a soft moan. Melting.

He can hear the kids at his back, loudly laughing, hitting him that they're still in the middle of the beach, where everyone can look at them.

They break the kiss, Wooyoung wants to die, hiding slowly on his chest.

"I'm gonna take that as a yes," San sounds proud, of himself, or the kiss, or both. He is a good kisser. 

Of course there's feelings. It's what's been haunting Wooyoung for weeks. 

—

Five days until the festival and the only thing they've been doing is kiss.

San is still the same. Bubbly, appearing first in the morning to surf on the cold water, teaching surf before lunch, pushing Wooyoung into the couch to kiss for what it seems an eternity, teaching surf on the afternoon. 

To say Wooyoung is living in a bubble would be a lie, because the truth is that he's still deep down the ocean, with no intentions of getting to the surface ever again — every kiss is like digging into the ocean floor, going down. However, he can breathe now, and San is diving around him.

San doesn't say a thing about deep feelings, he talks about a connection, because he is still the same San, and he is a weirdo. Wooyoung likes that word, connection, it makes everything feel more real. Like San won't vanish like dust, a promise for him to stay next to him a little more.

"Why are you thinking now?" 

It's almost 4 PM and San has a free day, Mingi taking his shift, and that makes Wooyoung take a free day even when he is not even a worker there. He just wants to be next to him. 

They're laying on bed, doing nothing, listening to the sea. 

"Nothing."

"I can hear you from here," San leans in on his elbow so he can stare at him, frowning. "You have a loud brain."

"That's not true."

"Yeah, it is. You are loud, but on the inside," San pocks his forehead. "What happens, pretty boy ?"

Wooyoung can't tell him.

He can't tell him about how the first week of August is almost done and that summer will end soon too. He can't blurt that he is in love, because it's too soon, and because it's obviously San is still getting there, trying to put a name to whatever he is feeling, but by the time he finally decides he is in love with him, summer would've ended already.

He can't tell him that he already misses him, knowing that whatever the hell they started with that kiss would stay as nothing more but a summer love. Dying with the first fall of leaves, totally forgotten with the first snow of December.

"What happened to city boy ?" He asks instead, sad smile taking over his lips.

San blinks, totally not convinced by the tone of his voice. "Right now, you are in a village, near the ocean, and you are pretty," his voice sounds velvety, falling over Wooyoung's face with such delicacy he can't contain the sigh that escapes his lips. Content. "You are so pretty, and loud, but prettier. "

He moves slowly, catching his lips in a sweet kiss, and San quickly melts against his mouth. He crawls over him, being careful with his arm, one hand flying to his cheek at the same time Wooyoung's fingers thread on his hair, bringing him closer.

They kiss slow, without rushing things, enjoying the company of each other's tongues, tasting the mint of toothpaste. Almost like they have all the time in the world to just lazily kiss, making Wooyoung's heart ache. Summer will end.

San only leaves his lips to trail a way of butterfly kisses all over his jaw, biting his earlobe and finding a final destination on the smooth skin of his neck. He kisses and bites and drives Wooyoung crazy, because it feels like he is floating again and because it's going to take him years to get rid of the scent of San out of his skin. 

He wants to cry, both of happiness and sadness. 

Why can't you just enjoy things, Wooyoung?

—

Yunho and Mingi are holding hands when Wooyoung arrives to their meeting point (obviously, is the burger place, that is giving free french fries due the festival). He doesn't question them, happy they could talk about that unsolved thing of them, quickly catching a glimpse of San wearing a yukata.

Wooyoung slightly smiles at him, letting the boy hold his hands to look at him. "You look amazing. Black suits amazingly with your strawberry socks," he points at his short black pants, sticking his tongue out.

"Special occasion," Wooyoung moves one of his feet, feeling weird after almost a month without wearing shoes at all. "What are you wearing? Is this a yukata?"

"Bingo!" San moves backwards, stretching his arms and spinning around slowly, showing off his outfit. "My grandma helped me. Not going to lie, is weird walk around in this and not my normal clothes, but she looked so happy. Do I look pretty?"

Pretty isn't enough to describe him. It's like he was born to shine, to make Wooyoung's heart a mess inside his chest. 

He notices how his hair is filled with flowers, making him look more like a fairy than a surfer right now. A water fairy. 

Wooyoung feels so ugly with his old shorts and black shirt. 

"Yeah," his voice is hoarse again. "Yeah, you do."

San leans in to give him a short kiss on the nose, having to deal with Mingi's mocks right after. 

They hold hands the entire time, even when Wooyoung starts grossly sweating, making they hands slippery. San fiercely believe he would get lost if they're not holding hands, and Wooyoung finds it funny, for a man with no filters at all, how difficult is for him to say out loud that he only wants to hold his hand.

Wooyoung doesn't complain and just accepts it, holding tight as they walk between the people, just playing with his fingers as they stop to eat. Wooyoung tries a lot of new foods, letting San feed him, using it as an excuse to kiss the corner of his mouth to get rid of a stain of sauce. 

Wooyoung giggles. 

The festival is much nicer than Wooyoung thought. There's games, lots of food, music and a summer atmosphere. They stop by Hae's shop to make shell necklaces with the kids, San putting the one he made around Wooyoung's neck, leaving a kiss right behind his ear. The kids clap. Everyone can see them, but Wooyoung doesn't have time to care, fireworks exploding in the sky, lips meeting San's.  

He never imagined he would be kissing a boy under the fireworks, sand on his pants. It feels like a good dream he doesn't want to wake up from, he wants to stay like that forever.

—

Just after they guided the little turtles back to the sea, San leads him to his own house. His aunt's house. Pushes him against the bed and kisses him again. 

Fast and smiling, hand crawling under his shirt, caressing his abdomen and making his back arch. Wooyoung feels dizzy but answers back, catching San's bottom lip between his teeth, biting softly until the older is moaning directly into his mouth, sending electricity down his spine. 

The way to describe the kiss is desperate, but in a good way, as if they've been waiting for this all their life. Both of them. San spoke about connection and Wooyoung believed him, about stars and fate. Meeting San was fate, he is sure about that. He is sure with every inch of his body he needed to meet San at one point of his life. 

Falling in love with him, however, was a decision he made somewhere along the weeks.

He doesn't regret it. The only thing he regrets is not coming to the village sooner, because he needs San, and the way his mouth molds to his own. The way he made him forget about his broken arm and his dreams.

"Wait," he finds himself remembering about his broken arm. "My arm."

"Right," San giggles a little, lips pressing over the soft skin of his arm. "Should we stop."

Wooyoung shakes his head.

"You made me surf like this," he reminds him, San's head hiding on the crook of his neck, getting suddenly shy. "Let's be… Careful."

"Of course." 

San moves his head up, kissing him again, smile tickling his lips, almost as if he knows what's on his mind, fingers pulling from the grip of his shirt up his head slowly. His lips cover his chest in seconds, kissing every centimetre of his skin as if it was mandatory. Wooyoung feels like crying. 

Taking off San's clothes is easy, just pulling from a side of the cloth belt and he is naked over him, skin touching skin, feeling warm again, because that's Choi San.

Just like a sunlight kissing his skin.

He is beautiful, he is funny and he is smart. He is kind and maybe a little bit crazy. He loves the sea, and Wooyoung loves him. 

And above all, San is warm like a summer day. 

And Wooyoung loves him. 

—

Wooyoung lets San wash his hair next morning, fingers softly moving over his scalp, with so much care he could fall asleep on top of him in a matter of seconds. 

He has his legs wrapped around his waist, a song slipping through his lips from time to time. 

"Close your eyes for me, pretty boy, " San hums, letting the warm water fall over his hair, nape, back, getting lost in the place where their skins are touching. Warm. "You have a cute nape. I like it," San giggles before leaning in, pressing his lips on the skin of his nape, the only place that isn't covered in hickies by now.

"Thanks," Wooyoung closes his eyes, feeling San's fingers move to his shoulders, meeting his chest, moving his fingernails up and down his skin, making him shiver. "Can I wash your hair?"

"Yup!"

They exchange spots slowly, San taking extra care to not even touch Wooyoung's right arm — that's ridiculously wrapped in a plastic bag. They sit the same way, San quickly grabbing his legs and wrapping them around his waist, slim.

Wooyoung asks San to wet his own hair, having only his left hand to massage his scalp. San purrs into the touch, fingers caressing his thighs, and Wooyoung takes it as if he is doing a good job. 

"Oh," his fingers leave his hair to touch a little tattoo that has been hidden all the time by the length of his hair. Is a small wave, same one the boy drew on his cast weeks ago, same one he saw on Hae's nape. "You have a tattoo. Another, I mean," he adds, remembering the one on his collarbone. He saw it last night, laying on top of him, only the moonlight shining on his skin. And it made him beautiful.  

Ad astra per aspera , to the stars through difficulties.

Wooyoung found himself staring into San's bare chest, fingers trailing down the phrase over and over, amazed by its meaning. It's beautiful, it makes San even more special. 

"Yeah, my first one," San says slenderly. "You know, my dad named me mountain , yet I was born to be in the water. I love the ocean, I love the be free. The land was never for me, for that I found it funny that I was named like that. If I was going to live with the land in my name, I wanted to have the sea in my body. As it's my home," he breathes, head falling over Wooyoung's shoulder, shampoo staining his cheek. "It's also a symbol for us surfers, the ones from the village. Now that you are one, you should get one."

Wooyoung feels his heart ache at his words. Same words he once heard his aunt Hae said. Being in love with the ocean, that's what he is saying. 

After a second, he shakes his head. "I'm not a surfer." 

"We should surf together," San says, almost like he is not really listening to him. "Once your arm heals. I want to take you home."

Wooyoung swallows, pressing his cheek against San's head.  "Yeah, that would be nice."

Wooyoung means it, but can't help the pain on his chest again. He can't stop thinking about it. It's what he likes to call being masochistic. Thinking way too much in the future he is missing so much of the present.

San told him about them being insignificant and Wooyoung stopped thinking about basketball.

But it was replaced with San, the end of the summer, and looking at the days on the calendar of his phone. 

He is drowning, just as he told San.

They get out of the shower thirty minutes later, San insisting on using the same towel so he can hug him. It ends with more kisses. On the cheeks, nose, forehead, neck. Lips.

"Choi San," Hae is in the kitchen, half smiling half surprised to find the guy on her kitchen, hair wet and borrowing both Wooyoung's clothes and strawberry socks. "What are you doing here?"

"It's okay, Hae!" He assures with a big smile. "We did nothing, only sleep," yet he winks at Wooyoung, getting red from toe to head. 

San burst into laughter as Hae fake hits him, floating around the kitchen to take Wooyoung's hand in between his own, dragging him outside the house. They step directly on sand, San wearing nothing but these socks. 

"Jung Wooyoung," he starts, saying his full name for the first time since they met. "You are making me the happiest man alive, I'm not lying. And I'm getting tired of seeing you frowning or moping."

"I'm not moping," he retorts.

"Yes you are," San laughs. "And I wish we were like that type of couples that, you know, can read each other's minds. I'd love to know what's making you so sad and punch it out of you, because you are missing this," he breathes, a little defeated, but still smiling. "You are missing life, and youth, and me. And this amazing summer life decided to gift us, a summer together."

Wooyoung clenches his jaw. 

He wants to break San's bubble with everything he has been holding on his chest, spill acid on everything and just lay in bed for the rest of the summer. When did he went back to the start? 

Yet, San doesn't let him speak, opening his arms and confessing. "I fell for you, Wooyoung. I mean it."

Wooyoung looks at him, bewildered. He what?

"Do you really thought I would, just, do everything to play with you? Idiot. Your aunt was always talking about you, being loud and restless, not gonna lie to you, that  version of you put me in a bad mood way before knowing you. But then you got here, all sad and small, falling so deep. When I tried to catch you, I guess I just fell with you," San stops with a sigh, not even moving from where he is standing. "I'd go deeper than the ocean floor, if that means I can help you."

Wooyoung takes a mouthful of air, feeling his lungs burn. He is burning, cells eating him alive from the inside, too many information to process at the same time. He moves his mouth without making a sound, piercing pain warning him. Don't say nothing stupid.

"You are just feeling pity, that's not love."

Idiot.

San takes a deep breath. "Maybe it's not love. It's too soon, right?" Wooyoung nods, tears blurring his eyes. "Wooyoung, you can call it whatever you want. I like you, I'm drawn to you. If ocean was a person, that would be you to me."

"Why?"

That time, San smiles in defeat. "Because when I am with you, I can be myself. I don't have to pretend at all."

There's a brief second of silence before San is putting his hands inside the pockets of the shorts he took from Wooyoung.

"I will give you time. But, Wooyoung? Life is shorter than you think, you're not the only one fearing the end of the summer."

As San walks out, Wooyoung's legs finally decide to give up, meeting the ground. Warm sand. 

—

Once again, Wooyoung obeys San and thinks. He thinks for five days straight when his life takes the same turn it had at the start of the summer.

All day in bed, thinking in all the things that vanished in front of him. Painkillers being the only thing keeping him distracted from his arm. Contrary of getting used to lose things he love, he feels weaker every time.

When his mom calls him, asking how he is — I'm super fine mom, this was such a great idea, thanks —, he feels his heart clench. He is sitting in the kitchen, fingers playing with the wires, being more conscious of his own heartbeats than the words his mother is telling him.

It's not a surprise to finally catch her words: he is coming back home in five days. Worse, he just lost five days, as San said, moping on bed. He is an idiot.

A big idiot.

Suddenly, he feels his head clearer. All the words San told him five days ago finally making sense inside his messed up brain. 

He told him how the ocean was his home while he had his fingers running through his hair, and after that he added how Wooyoung was the ocean for him. It makes sense. 

San is in love, San is also fearing that goodbye. 

A goodbye he stupidly made way shorter.

Wooyoung leaves the house, bare feets and nothing but his pajamas on. It's early in the morning and he doesn't have a clue where San lives. 

Because that's the thing about summer love.

It's fleeting, secret, mysterious. It's a total different type of love, is rushed because there's no time, no time for learning favorite colors, the name of his mom or to visit each other houses.

Summer love is refreshing as the water, almost like an illusion. Happiness, sunshine, stargazing, riding the wave crest, open mouthed kisses.

Holding onto each other thinking about a future together, forgetting about it a couple weeks into routine. 

Dreaming with their eyes open.

He was an idiot for thinking everything could go further, that next summer, San would be waiting for him. Wooyoung himself isn't sure about future, what he would be doing, about if he will still feel the same after a couple months far from him. 

But leaving San like that was even worse.

Because he needs him like he needs the summer.

—

Although he doesn't know a thing about San's private life, he does know enough about San to know where to find him. 

In the water. 

The blonde boy is sitting by the shore, still wearing Wooyoung's shirt, playing with the sand underneath him.

Wooyoung takes a deep breath, believing he is ready to apologise — when in reality he is terrified.

"I had time," he starts, hating how his voice breaks, startling San, who quickly turns to look at him. "I had time to think," he starts again, closing his hand in a fist. "And I've come to the conclusion that if I am the ocean, you are the summer, Choi San. I needed you the most, I needed you to hold me when I was falling apart. I'm sorry for what I said, it's not pity at all. You— you never said I'm sorry or You will be able to play again . You… talked about the stars, hugged me and washed my hair. Thanks to you, I forgot the reason I came."

He pauses, examining San's expression. Calm, relaxed. But, not smiling. It's weird.

Wooyoung opens his fist just to take a grip of the fabric of his own shirt.

"I forgot it," he repeats. "But I am dumb, and I started to think about everything else. I'm going back home in five days, ten months until the next summer. And what about you? I was so scared of losing you I just—"

"Wooyoung."

San's voice sounds loud, finally realizing they're totally alone in the beach. He freezes looking at how the boy walks in his direction. 

When he finally stands in front of him, the smile breaks through his pressed lips, hands flying to his cheeks.

"You are such a romantic, aren't you?" He says, as if he didn't lecture him about love and life just five days ago.

"I mean it."

"And I know," San pinches him. "Summer love sucks, but what about the memories? I'm pretty sure that even if ten, twenty or fifty years pass, every time I look back into the past, I'm gonna remember you and your stupid broken arm. Or how you like fruit patterned socks. Or that stupid mole on your lip, or how you kissed me, or my amazing first time," he giggle, leaning in, foreheads pressed, lips so close Wooyoung can feel the vibrations of his voice when he speaks again. "Summer love creates winter memories, and I'm not gonna forget you, city boy."

Wooyoung finally reacts, hand moving to hold onto San's shirt. He lets the tears out, sobs being the only thing audible, muffled "I'm so sorry" and "Don't be mad at me, please" escaping from time to time. San rubs his back with one hand, resting the other one at the small of his nape.

"I'm always gonna remember how you smell like soap and strawberries," San keeps on telling. "How you incredibly braided my hair with one arm broken. The birthmark at the bottom of your back, that looks like a tiny star. Your legs, because I love your legs. Your voice. Your frown. Your sleeping face. Your nape."

Wooyoung wants him to stop, but for the way San's voice starts getting lower and lower, he guesses he is not the only one crying. So he lets him go for as long as he wants, thinking in all the things he's gonna remember. 

The gold on his hair, the dimples, the giggles.

The warmth. 

—

Five days become four as they go surfing like San wanted — plastic bag around Wooyoung's arm, fear put aside as he fall for the nth time of the board and he realises the ocean is welcoming him. 

Four become three, finally playing basketball again. They call Yunho and Mingi for a match, sun burning their heads, no one following the rules. Hae gave him an old scarf to protect his arm, tightly pressed to his heart, feeling his own heartbeats. And it's crazy, as no one follows the rules and his left arm fails miserable at the shots. But they have fun, they laugh. Basketball becomes funny again.

San helps him with the shots, positioning at his back, being his right arm just to loudly kiss his cheeks right after.

Three turn into two, all day in bed, San's bed. He lives with his grandma, Wooyoung feeling a pain on his chest at the discovery that the woman is no other than the sunflower woman, that still remembers him.

They talk, about a lot of things. He learns about San's life, about his fears and about his future. San learns a lot about Wooyoung insecurities, about his fear to the unknown.

And they kiss. They kiss for hours in between white blankets, fingers caressing naked skin. San finds a home on the crook of his neck, hand rubbing his back to sleep. 

Wooyoung wakes up in the middle of the night, legs tangled and fingers intertwined. 

Two becomes one. The four of them go out to say goodbye. Goodbye Wooyoung, that's going back to Busan, and who knows what awaits him there. Goodbye Yunho, that's moving to Seoul to start his art degree. Goodbye Mingi, that's going back to Incheon.

Goodbye San, that's staying where he belongs. Where the ocean is.

One finally turns zero. 

—

"Promise?" San has his pinky raised, intensely staring at him. 

He is wearing normal clothes, hair falling over his face, so long compared to the day they met. Finally wearing shoes for once, Wooyoung's banana socks engulfing his ankles.

San looks beautiful and nostalgic.

"Don't forget about me," he says, finally catching Wooyoung's pinky into the promise.

"Promise. Take care of my socks," Wooyoung adds in a soft voice.

"I will, sir," he lowers his voice, bursting in giggles right after. He jumps on the spot, engulfing Wooyoung in a tight embrace. "Have a safe trip. Drink a lot of water. Don't cry much and," with a sigh, he lets go of him, hands still on his shoulders. He stares. Their thing . "Don't mop around, city boy. Allow yourself to fall in love with another city boy, and have beautiful city kids. But bring them here in the future! I love kids."

Wooyoung grunts, not promising anything. And San, again, is able to catch his loud thoughts. 

"Promise me, Jung Wooyoung!" He calls. "You have to promise me you will keep on living. Be better than a star!"

"Okay," he groans. "I promise you. But you have to promise me—"

"I promise."

"Let me finish, please."

"I know, Wooyoung," San's voice is sweet again, almost like his touch. "I promise you to take you with me to the ocean. One day."

For a summer love, San got to know Wooyoung better than he knows himself. "Good. Thanks," he looks back, at the bus arriving to the station. He is the only one there. Hae wanted them to have a proper farewell. "I guess it's time."

San leans in, kissing him one last time. Sweet and honey coated, tasting both the land and the sea on his lips. "I summer love you, pretty boy."

"I— I love you too, Choi San." 

—

Wooyoung spends the eight hours long ride home playing with the shell necklace San made for him, summer vanishing at the other side of the window. 

All his friends are waiting for him at the station, Yeosang is holding a big Welcome home, super star banner and Seonghwa keeps on repeating he promised not to cry, yet he is already a crying mess before he even puts a foot out of the bus. 

Tell us everything, they ask.

And Wooyoung is happy to tell them everything, saving the memory of Choi San only for himself.

—

"Dad! You've been in the shower for one hour!" 

The curtains yank open, revealing the adorable mad face of the little girl. Wooyoung can't help but giggle at the image, reaching out for the towel.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I got lost on my thoughts," he explains, exiting the bathtub and picking another towel to his hair. He rubs, catching a glimpse of his face on the mirror. He is not eighteen anymore. 

The little girl follows him around.

"What's that?"

"Hmm, when you remember nice things that happened in the past," he explains, kneeling in front of her. "Like, remember when we went to Disney Land?"

"You were thinking about Disney Land?" Her whole face light ups, madness vanishing in seconds. 

Wooyoung laughs. "Something like that."

"I just heard Disney Land," another kid runs to the bathroom, messy hair and still on his pajamas. "Dad, are we going to Disney Land? Daddy! We're going to Disney!"

The voice of his husband can be heard from the ground floor, a low "What?" that makes Wooyoung shiver. He stands up, holding onto his son's arm. "We are not going to Disney. And why are you still on your pajamas? We are going to be late and you know how auntie Hae doesn't like to wait."

The boy smiles brightly, sticking his tongue out. "Auntie Hae is a surfer, she can't get mad!" 

Wooyoung smiles fondly, watching as the kid runs again to his room, husband appearing at the end of the aisle. He quickly moves to the girl, whispering. "Daddy is gonna nag at me again, go pick up your toys. We're gonna get in the car in ten minutes."

The girl imitates her older brother. "Daddy is a surfer, he can't get mad."

Wooyoung sighs. It's incredibly how both his kids took after his husband. What did he even do as a parent? He tried to teach Hyuk how to play basketball but he refused because he liked the water more.

And when he tried with Hyerin, she gave him the same response.

Apparently, the ocean runs in the family.

"Mind telling me why are we suddenly changing plans and going to Disney?" His husband leans in the door frame, one eyebrow raised. 

Wooyoung shakes his head. "Kids. They love Disney."

"You love Disney."

"Fair point. Why is Hyuk still on his pajamas?" He tries to change the topic.

"Why are you still naked?"

They stare at each other for what it seems an eternity before Wooyoung is smiling again, heart pounding on his chest like it is the first time they see each other.

"I was thinking about you. "

"About me?" He asks, smug smile appearing on his lips. "On the shower?"

"Oh, c'mon! It was such a nice memory, why do you always have to be so dirty minded."

"I took it after you."

"And our kids are totally small versions of you, Choi San."

"I'm such a great father, look at me," San fake wipes a tear before entering the bathroom and putting both hands on his bare chest, gold ring on his finger, matching with the one hanging from Wooyoung's neck. "What were you thinking about?"

Wooyoung takes a second, contemplating San in front of him. Older, black hair replacing his gold strands, but still as long as he remembers. Still the surfer he fell for recklessly twenty years ago.

The same surfer. 

"About how much I love you," he breathes.

"Aw."

"And, how you told me you would bring me back home."

These words take San by surprise, making him a little bit teary eyed. "Oh. Damn, city boy , how smooth can you get? I don't remember you being this smooth at eighteen, and I remember a lot of things from summer 2017."

He doesn't let Wooyoung say a thing, kissing him. They've been kissing for twenty years, and still, Wooyoung feels butterflies on his stomach.

"Gross!" Hyuk screams, covering his eyes with both hands — and maybe he took his dramatic side from Wooyoung.

"What's a city boy ?" Hyerin asks, pouty.

San looks happy to answer that. "Your dad is. Such a city boy afraid of the ocean," both kids laugh along with San. "Now, Hyuk put on some clothes or I'm not letting you put a foot on my board."

The kid storms again into his room and, as he holds Hyerin's hand, San mouths back at him. "Let's go home."

It's been twenty years, but San is still his summer love. Still warm. 

—

Winter is eating Wooyoung's cheeks as he walks across the campus. He has been walking around for ten minutes, nothing left to do as finals are over. He doesn't want to go back to his apartment knowing Yunho invited Mingi over, but it's getting cold enough to make him shiver.

He doesn't hate winter, but it's not one of his favorites seasons as well. It's just that summer is a lot better. 

It's been almost five months now, Wooyoung's life going with the flow. He is not a professional basketball player, but he still plays from time to time. He applied for teaching, he got it. He is happy. His arm healed, a little wave tattooed on the skin of his wrist. 

He is happy.  

More than he likes, to be honest.

Just as he predicted, life keeps moving on. He is eighteen, he is young. Still, being totally sincere with himself: he broke up his promise.

Choi San is still on his mind. Every single day, as a memory, as a kiss on his cheek, on the shell necklace he is still wearing under his turtleneck. 

He is everywhere, even when not even Yunho knows what is he doing. "Surfer are unpredictable," he says during dinner, "but San likes to take it to the next level. You never know what's on his mind."

Wooyoung likes to think he picked his board and jumped into the sea, not putting a foot on the land ever again. That he is happy now.

That he— he is here?

"Hey city boy, would you mind helping me? I think I'm lost."

Wooyoung freezes on the middle of the campus, looking around then, going back to San. He is right there, beanie covering his hair, strong eyebrows pointing at him. He is wearing a lot of clothes and Wooyoung is at the verge of tears.

"Oh no, you are lost too?" He jokes, finally standing in front of him, tilting his head. "Hi."

"What are you doing here?" Wooyoung's voice breaks. He wants to jump and hug him, but at the same time he is not sure. San was supposed to be his summer love.

"I'm happy to see you again too," the boy fakes a cry, hand pulling his pants up. Wooyoung wants to laugh so hard at the sight of banana socks receiving him, instead, he starts crying. "I wanted to give you your socks back."

"Really?"

"Totally. I've been thinking, and it's not nice to kidnap them, they need to be with you."

"I see," Wooyoung is shaking, hand pressed to his lips.

"And," a pause, "I also need to be with you."

Wooyoung looks at him then, hand falling from his lips. He mouths without making an actual sound, almost searching for air.

"I don't get it," he manages to say. "What about the sea?"

San smiles. "My dad used to sign this song to me, called Land or sea. There's a line that goes like: Land or sea, there are no guarantees here, we know there's nothing but our fear to be free ," he moves a little closer, eyes avoiding Wooyoung's gaze in a shy way. "I don't care where, but I want to be with you."

Wooyoung can't help but think on his aunt Hae. The surfer that never married, never fell in love, because the ocean was her only lover. She left everything to stay where home was.

"What about our promise?" Wooyoung asks, voice hoarse, maybe because the excitement of the moment, or just the cold.

San shrugs. "I will take you back to the ocean, only if I can meet your kids. By the way, I always wanted two boys, names starting with H— why are you crying now, Jung Wooyoung? That's breaking a rule!"

Wooyoung sobs, shaky fingers holding onto San's jacket, getting closer.

"What about what you made me promise? To keep on living?"

At that, San smiles widely. "Never told you to reject me, did I?"

"Are you asking me out?" San nods, showing him his dimples before pulling him by the collar, lips meeting after a long time, craving each other as much as Wooyoung craves summer. "By the way, I want a boy and a girl."

San laughs into the kiss. It's summer again.