Archive of Our Own ^beta

August, 2019

WOOYOUNG

Wooyoung scrolled through the comments of the latest Ateez Tiktok video, liking each one that went especially hard with their love and appreciation. He’d made a fake account so he could creep Atiny and gush with them about how dreamy he and his members were. It was common practice among idols, though few other idols went so far as to pretend to be a stan account with their own picture as their profile. Whatever, he was a Wooyoung bias, it wasn’t like he was lying. 

He wasn’t surprised to find the #Woosan tag, even though he and San hadn’t been Woosan-ing very hard in that particular clip. A look from San, a smile from Wooyoung. Normal stuff. But fans liked to point out every look and smile, and it was fun to watch them twist their moments into something dramatically romantic. 

Wooyoung was the first to admit that they encouraged it. He knew from the day he met San that they had amazing chemistry together, so why not utilize it? And it was fun having someone he could openly flirt with on camera. Sure, he flirted with everyone, but San was the only one who flirted back, and there was a certain thrill that came with that. 

He didn’t usually spend his evenings scrolling TikTok, but he was bored as hell sitting alone in his room. Well, technically his and Hongjoong's, since M2 had rented an Airbnb and paired them off after politely kidnapping them to make Treasure Film content. He could’ve left to explore the rest of the house—it was a good four times the size of their dorm back home–but he was too exhausted to even try. They’d been running around Sydney the past three days, scrambling to complete the missions they’d been assigned. This was the first night they were spending without cameras on them and mic packs clipped to their clothes. Which was why after dinner they’d all agreed to just chill in their rooms and try to get to bed early. They’d be right back to filming once they got to LA anyway.

Wooyoung stretched out on the bed. It was barely big enough to share, but since the staff used the living room couches to set up and take down equipment, their only alternative was the pink rug on the floor, which was barely bigger than a towel.

The sound of splashes and laughter floated through the open window, and Wooyoung got up to see Seonghwa and Yunho in the pool. There wasn’t much lighting in the backyard, but enough was spilling in from the large windows of the house that Wooyoung could still make out their faces, blissfully unaware of anything going on outside of their bubble. A few feet away, Yeosang was jumping on the trampoline he’d been obsessed with since the first day they got there.

The door opened and Hongjoong peeked his head in. He was dressed in uncharacteristically dark clothes and a black cap pulled low. “I’m heading out. Don’t wait up.”

He’d spent their entire dinner staring at his phone with a look on his face Wooyoung knew well–Hongjoong had a hookup. An exciting one. “Who do you even know in Sydney?” 

“We’re not the only ones on tour, you know.” He winked, and Wooyoung resisted the urge to roll his eyes in response. The sooner Hongjoong let go of pretending to be mysterious, the better. If he was going to be the only one courageous enough to actually leave the Airbnb, he could at least entertain Wooyoung with torrid details.

“I thought we agreed to chill tonight.” He pointed outside, where Yunho's giddy laughter was the only thing louder than the splashing. “Am I the only one who meant it?”

Hongjoong shrugged on his way out the door. “I think San’s doing one of those bubbly face masks. Find him.”

Wooyoung sighed and snuggled back into bed, taking to TikTok to let the fans keep him company. 

He tapped on the #Woosan tag and his screen turned into a steamy Kdrama. Every look, every smile, every touch, all of them set to sexy (sometimes sappy) music. A lot of the videos showcased intimate close-ups of their bodies, either individually or pressed together: a flash of San’s abs, and then another of Wooyoung’s arms wrapped around him. Another—he vaguely remembered this one—was a shot of their heads close together while they whispered on stage. 

Wooyoung titled his head. From certain angles, it really did look like they might be kissing. If he hadn’t been there, he might’ve believed they actually had. He rubbed his lips together. I wonder what that would feel like…

He tossed the blankets off and sat up, fanning himself. What was that thought? And why had it sent boiling heat through his body? Excess energy crackled from the hand still clutching his phone, so he dropped it like a hot potato, jumping around the room trying to clear his weird mood. 

Cold air still flowed through the window, and he could hear the AC running overhead, but neither did anything to calm the flush on his face. Wooyoung shook his head, catching a glance of himself in the mirror. Was this what the fans saw from him when he was around San? Did he always look so… flustered?

 It didn’t seem like a conscious choice when he picked up the phone again and started flipping through more videos, more moments, more touches. He had to know if it was true—to soothe his embarrassment, if nothing else.

They did have chemistry. Wooyoung found himself staring at San’s face just as much as his own, at the pink blush that spread from his cheeks all the way down his neck whenever Wooyoung got especially flirty.

Even Wooyoung was looking at the faces on the screen thinking they should kiss. And really… why shouldn’t they? If everyone thought they were a couple already, why not have some fun with it? 

He was out his door and knocking on San’s before his brain could tell his body that it was a terrible idea. Seonghwa would be back soon, showered and ready to sleep, and this wasn’t a conversation for the living room.

“Let me guess,” San said, opening the door with a warm smile, “Hongjoong won’t play with you, and now you’re bored.” 

Were San’s lips always that soft-looking? That… kissable?

San motioned for Wooyoung to enter, then he flopped onto his bed with a loud sigh. Sometimes he still looked as little as he had when they’d first met, only now there wasn’t even a hint of shyness left in his eyes, not around Wooyoung. He was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt with baggy shorts, and his dyed blonde hair was slightly damp, just enough for some strands to stick to the back of his neck. Cute. Wooyoung loved seeing San without makeup: his skin was so smooth, and his cheeks always held just a hint of pink, a reminder of the boyish qualities that were quickly leaving him behind.

“Seonghwa went to use the pool,” he said. “I don’t think he’ll be back for a while.”

Wooyoung nodded. “I heard him through the window. How much do you wanna bet Yeosang will ask for a trampoline when we get back?”

San scrunched his face, probably picturing the already cramped dorm with a trampoline shoved into it. “We’d have to get rid of the couch.”

“Or we could just kick Hongjoong out, use the extra space from the bed he never uses.”

San gave him a sympathetic look and patted the empty space beside him. “Another hookup?” 

“Umhmm.” Wooyoung laid down next to him. Unlike his room, this bed had enough space for two people to lie together comfortably. “The rest of us hold back. If he isn’t going to, the least he could do is share the stories with us. We never even get their names.” 

“Are you?” San asked, his body naturally curling to face Wooyoung. “Holding back, I mean.”

“Um." Why did Wooyoung feel like he'd just been caught? "What?”

“You said the rest of us are holding back. Does that mean you’d do the same as Hongjoong if you could?” San's eyes were so open and curious, but there was something cautious behind them. 

Wooyoung shifted and his knee brushed against San's. Which was fine. Totally normal. It didn't do anything to Wooyoung's ability to answer the question at all! 

“Um, I haven’t really thought about it.” San kept staring at him as if waiting for more. Shit, he needed to come up with an actual answer. “I guess I feel like I have everything I need with you guys. And if I want to get dramatically hit on, I call Changbin.”

San pouted. “Not me?”

It was nothing he hadn’t said before, but it still made Wooyoung inhale in a quick breath. “What?”

“I was just joking.” San tilted his head and nudged Wooyoung with his knee. “Are you okay? You’re acting weird.”

San was right. He was acting weird. And there was no good reason for it. This was the same San he’d known for years. The same San who needed a shoulder to hide behind during scary movies and his kimchi jjigae blown on before it was put in front of him, otherwise he’d get too excited and burn his tongue. 

He was the same man before tonight, and he’d be the same man after. If Wooyoung kissed him, nothing had to change. 

Maybe it was something about this week. They’d all been pushing themselves—Seonghwa made it up the harbour bridge despite his fear, and Yeosang waited until after he’d greeted ten strangers to pass out. It made Wooyoung want to be daring, too.

“Hey, sit up.” 

San blinked at him, his brows reaching for each other. “Why?”

“Please? I want to try something.” 

San did as he was told and tucked his legs under his body. Wooyoung mirrored him, and now their knees touched with purpose. They’d been closer than this before plenty of times, but Wooyoung’s heart still raced at the contact as if it was their first.

He considered backing out, pretending he wanted to play a game or talk about their day or practice harmonizing. San would agree to any of that just to keep Wooyoung entertained. But Wooyoung didn’t want to be entertained. The sizzling energy was still making his heart thud and his skin burn. Looking at San didn’t make the memory of the videos any less potent; in fact, seeing him in person only made them stronger. He was so handsome—the camera never fully did him justice.

“Are you ready?” Wooyoung’s voice came out as a croak, and San cocked his head to the side. 

“Ready for wha—”

Wooyoung leaned forward and gave San a peck on the lips. When he settled back in place, San’s eyes were wide and his mouth formed an adorably shocked ‘Oh’. Wooyoung gave him a second to recover before he leaned in again, but San jerked his head back. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Why? You don’t want to?” 

San’s breath was heavy, but he wasn’t getting up or breaking eye contact, which Wooyoung took as a good sign. In fact, his eye contact seemed to get more intense, like he was looking for something in Wooyoung’s face. He didn’t move at all as Wooyoung leaned forward again and brushed San’s lips with his. Then San’s lips were moving, but not to kiss Wooyoung back. 

“Don’t do this if you don’t mean it.” 

Wooyoung pulled away to look at him and tried to deliberately misunderstand what he was saying. Mean it. As in, really want to kiss him? He did , but… San wasn’t one to kiss just to kiss. It meant more to him. Wooyoung should’ve known that. 

His hesitation was enough to make San pull away. He got up from the bed, running one hand through his hair. 

Wooyoung reached for him. “San-ah…”

“I’m sorry, but can you leave?”

Wooyoung felt like he’d just been slapped across the face. San had never asked him for space before. They’d never needed time away from each other. Ever.

“I just… you didn’t give me time to think about my answer.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” San walked to the door and opened it, keeping his eyes on the ground. 

Wooyoung got up and walked slowly, as if San would change his mind and close the door before he got there. But he didn’t. Wooyoung stood in front of him, not caring that they were in front of the hallway and anyone could walk by. 

“Are you angry?”

“No.” San still wouldn’t look at him. “Just tired. I need to rest.”

Wooyoung wanted to laugh the tension away, wanted to wrap his arms around San’s waist and attack his cheeks with kisses, wanted to see him hiding his smile, pretending not to like it. But he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to do that anymore, so instead he just nodded and walked out the door.

“Young-ah…” 

Wooyoung whipped around. “Yes?”

San finally brought his eyes from the floor up to meet his. “Don’t do that again.” 

“I’m sor-” but the door was already shut, and San was already gone. 

What had he just done? He and San had the perfect relationship. They didn’t just love each other, they adored each other. He’d never had a friend who loved him so unconditionally for being exactly who he was. He’d never felt so comfortable with anyone. He’d never loved every part of someone before.

And he ruined it. For what? He’d always acted on impulse, which had occasionally brought him some awkward or harsh consequences, but never in his life had the consequences been this wretched.

He should’ve taken some time to figure out what San wanted. He’d thought San would be into it, but of course he wasn’t the kind of person who would mess around with someone with no strings. San loved strings. He wanted all the strings. If Wooyoung had taken a second to think about it, he would've realized that. But no, just like always, he had an impulse and followed it straight into action without thinking. 

He slapped himself across the face and heard a gasp behind him, so he turned to see Hongjoong walking down the hall with a black plastic bag dangling from his hand. 

“What was that for?”

“Because I’m stupid.”

Hongjoong smirked. “Don’t smack yourself over something you can’t change.”

After Wooyoung didn’t laugh or fire back, Hongjoong stopped to look him over. “What happened?” 

“Nothing.” Something told him Hongjoong wouldn’t be pleased to learn how Wooyoung had messed with the delicate harmony their Captain worked so hard to maintain. “Why are you back? I thought you had a rendezvous.”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes and followed Wooyoung to their room. “Who taught you that word?”

“Don’t avoid the question.”

“If you must know, his manager forbade him from seeing me. Now you.”

“I said it was nothing.” He opened the door to their room and held it open, waiting for Hongjoong to walk through first.

“Uh-huh.” Hongjoong took a bottle of soda out of the bag and placed it against Wooyoung’s cheek. The cool plastic felt nice against his stinging face. He hadn’t realized how hard he’d hit himself. “And how long do I have to wait before you can’t take it anymore and tell me exactly what happened?”

Wooyoung couldn’t tell him what happened, at least not yet. The shame was still burning too hot in his stomach, and he couldn’t handle seeing it reflected on Hongjoong’s face. 

“How do you have a casual no-strings romance?”

Hongjoong huffed in shocked laughter. “Where did that come from?”

“Am I not a man? Do I not have needs?”

He scoffed. “Never say anything like that again.”

“Seriously, how?” Maybe if he could find a way to get rid of all this pent-up energy with someone else, he wouldn’t make things weird with San. 

Hongjoong sat on the edge of the bed and looked at Wooyoung—really looked—as if he’d just been asked to sum him up in a single sentence and was analyzing him down to the core of his being. Then he shook his head. 

“It’s not for you.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, first of all, when there are no strings attached, you don’t call it romance. Second, you’re too soft. You’d fall in love instantly.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. You’d never even want to kiss someone you don’t have feelings for.”

Was that true? Wooyoung thought about the real kisses he’d had in his life: his first with his neighbour, the ones he secretly stole with other trainees, the friend of a friend who’d written him poetry… he’d crushed on all of them. Then he thought about the idea of hooking up with someone he didn’t really know, kissing someone who didn’t look at him the way… well, the way San did. 

“So what you’re saying is that if I want to kiss someone, I probably have feelings for them.”

“Is that what I’m saying?” Hongjoong looked up to the ceiling and Wooyoung saw the wheels turning in his head. He held his breath as if Hongjoong’s answer was absolute truth. “I guess that makes sense.”

It did. It did make sense. 

Shit.

Did he like San? 

Of course he loved San, but did he like him? His stomach did a happy little wiggle any time San touched him, and when their faces were close his heart beat so fast it was almost vibrating. But he’d always just thought that was San’s charisma, that everyone was affected by it. 

Now that he thought about it, he never felt that way when his other members touched him. Even kissing them on the cheek never made his body react the way it did when any part of San brushed any part of him, even by accident.

“Oh no.”

“‘Oh no’ what?” 

How long had Hongjoong been watching him, leaning forward, his shrewd eyes narrowed?

Wooyoung swallowed hard. “Oh no… it’s time for bed!”

Hongjoong tsked as Wooyoung threw himself onto the bed and covered his head with the pink duvet. He was still hot, but sweating under a thick blanket was better than facing Hongjoong’s stare. 

Wooyoung felt the weight of Hongjoong joining him on the bed. The duvet was pulled down just enough so that his eyes poked through, then a bag of potato chips took up his entire field of vision. “You don’t want any of these snacks?”

“Nope!” Wooyoung pulled the blanket back up over his face, and for good measure, swerved away from Hongjoong’s side. “There’ll be cameras on us tomorrow, don’t want to be puffy.”

Hongjoong’s grumble came through slightly muffled. “Since when are you so responsible?” 

“Since today! You’re a good influence on me. Good night!” 

Hongjoong sighed, and after a few minutes, the lights turned off and he was also under the blanket, turned away from Wooyoung. 

Wooyoung felt bad lying, but how could he tell him what he’d done? Hongjoong had always been able to read him, and he’d instantly see his feelings written all over his face. Wooyoung wasn’t ready for that. 

“Captain?”

“Hmmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Everything.” 

The silence was so long Wooyoung thought maybe Hongjoong had fallen asleep, but then his voice floated from across bed.

“You can tell me when you’re ready, Young-ah.” 

Wooyoung tried to keep it quiet as he cried himself to sleep.

SAN

San stood at the door of his room staring at the door handle as if it were a portal to another world. And in a sense, it was. Wooyoung had tried to kiss him, and now everything on the other side of the door would be different.

San could hear the other members rustling around throughout the house: packing, shouting back and forth, eating a quick breakfast before the car came to pick them up. He knew he should do the same, bare minimum, he could at least take a shower and be fresh for the flight. But he found his feet stuck to the ground, his heart anchored in the hurt of the night before.

He loved Wooyoung. Always had. And he knew his love for him was different from anything he’d ever felt before. But he’d successfully convinced himself it was a harmless crush, a deep friendship, a platonic soulmate-ship that would never—could never—be anything more. 

The moment Wooyoung leaned in, San knew he wanted it. His whole body had lit up and his heart felt like it’d grown too big for his chest. But Wooyoung’s kisses would hurt too much if they weren't real. 

Don’t do this if you don’t mean it. The instant the words were out of his mouth, he knew he’d just opened up his chest and showed Wooyoung everything inside of him. He loved him. He needed Wooyoung to love him back. And now Wooyoung knew that. How could he go out there and face him? He’d shown his feelings and Wooyoung rejected him, and now they had to work together every day for the rest of their lives.

“Does your chest hurt?” Seonghwa stood behind him holding his luggage with one hand and a plastic coffee cup with the other. He looked down to where San was clutching his shirt above his heart. “Did you pull a muscle or something?”

“No, I’m okay.” He tried in vain to smooth the now-wrinkled fabric. He hadn’t even realized he was doing that.

“Then why aren’t you leaving? Did you forget something?”

San wished he could forget. “No, I… um, I just spaced out. Sorry.”

“You didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. I heard you tossing and turning.” Seonghwa scanned head to toe, as if the reason he was unwell would be written somewhere on his body. “There was a lot of sighing, too.”

“Sorry. Did I keep you up?”

Seonghwa shrugged as if that detail wasn’t important. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“Maybe later.” He wanted to tell his hyung, but he had no idea where to begin, or how much Wooyoung would want revealed. 

“Okay, well, we have to go. The staff wanted us out front a few minutes ago.”

“Hey, can you sit with me on the plane?”

Seonghwa’s eyebrows rose, but he nodded and didn’t ask any more questions. When they could swing it, San and Wooyoung always sat together on flights. The fact that San suddenly didn’t want to would raise some suspicions among the group, but he just couldn’t sit beside him for eleven hours, their arms brushing, Wooyoung’s head on his shoulder as they dozed, their heat warming each other. He couldn’t handle Wooyoung bringing up the night before, or worse, pretending like nothing happened. 

Luckily, by the time they got to the lobby, the first car was already loaded, Wooyoung among them. San ducked into the other one and closed his eyes, hoping everyone would assume he was tired and didn’t want to talk. He didn’t exactly have to fake that. Seonghwa was right; he hadn’t slept the night before. How could he, with the memory of Wooyoung’s face so close? He’d spent countless hours staring at that very same face, memorizing the lines and angles, the deep colour of his eyes, the length of his eyelashes, and the changes that happened through the years as he became a man. But now he couldn’t think of his favourite face in the world without also remembering the panicked, guilty look that came over it when he couldn’t return San’s feelings. 

San winced as if the memory gave him physical pain. He felt Yunho’s hand pat his leg, his eyebrows furrowing in worry, but beyond that, he didn’t pry. 

San stayed in a daze for the rest of the car ride, the walk through the airport, the process of getting onto the plane. That part usually happened quickly, with the staff taking care of anything that required brain power, and the boys simply shuffling after them like ducklings.

Up until boarding, San was able to avoid Wooyoung, but once they were on the plane, he couldn’t miss the way Wooyoung’s body naturally shifted to make room for him, or the expectant light in his eyes. He also couldn’t avoid the way it dimmed when San moved to sit next to Seonghwa instead.

Yunho, the only one left standing, blinked at San, then looked over at Wooyoung, then back to San, as if San had accidentally sat in the wrong seat and would spring up any moment to move. But San just looked straight ahead and eventually Yunho shuffled down the aisle and sat down. 

San distracted himself by playing with Seonghwa, watching movies, and sleeping. Seonghwa never asked him what was wrong, which was something he loved about his friend. San knew he’d listen if needed, but wouldn’t push. Seonghwa’s calm presence helped bring San back to himself, and by the time they were halfway through the flight, San’s mind was already clearer. Not any less sad, but at least he wasn’t walking around in a dream state anymore.

His legs were numb as he got up to use the washroom, so he had to stand at his seat to shake them out before he could move. Captain was asleep on Yeosang’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around his bicep. Yeosang’s head was leaned back on the chair, his eyes closed and his face relaxed, looking like some kind of slumbering fairy. Jongho was reading a book as Mingi tried and failed to get his attention. Both of them looked up to San as if asking for help, and all San could do was shoot them both a weak smile. He tried to avoid looking in the seats behind them, but Wooyoung’s pull was too strong. Yunho’s eyes were closed, his earphones on and the light of the movie he wasn’t watching flickering across his face. But Wooyoung was wide awake, and his eyes were locked on San. 

“San-ah,” he whispered as he walked by, “let’s switch seats. I want to talk.”

“Um,” San looked down at Yunho, then back at Seonghwa, who was happily watching a drama in his own seat. “They’re comfortable. Later, okay?”

“But…” 

San didn’t wait for whatever Wooyoung was going to say next. That boy had a way of convincing San to do all kinds of things, and he didn’t want to be sucked in this time. He was even pissed at himself for saying ‘later’. He didn’t want to talk later; he didn’t want to talk about this ever. The thought of Wooyoung trying to smooth things over, trying to make it normal again, trying to let him down gently… it made him sick to his stomach. 

So when the plane finally landed and they started gathering their things to get off, San did his best to stay away from Wooyoung. He didn’t know if he was being mean, and at this point, he didn’t really care. They were led to get their luggage, then quickly ushered into cars, where San once again managed to get into a different one than Wooyoung.

The group had just one night to recover from their thirteen-hour flight to California. Exhausted, everyone retreated to their respective hotel rooms without protest. Even when San requested to room with Seonghwa again (ignoring their practice of changing roommates with each hotel stay) no one put up much of a fight.

Despite the exhaustion tugging at his eyelids, San’s mind refused to shut off or even slow down. He paced around the room: from the bed to the desk, from the desk to the closet, from the closet to the bathroom and back again, over and over and over, like his body was replicating the thoughts bouncing around in his brain. It got so bad that Seonghwa made up an excuse about needing to hit the gym before sleeping, just to escape the anxious energy filling their room.

If San was honest with himself, he wasn’t avoiding Wooyoung because he was upset or disappointed or just didn’t know what to say. He was avoiding him because he knew that resisting him was impossible. If Wooyoung wanted to casually hook up, San would give in. It would be messy and unhealthy, but it would be something, and San would take it. He knew he would. No matter how much it broke his heart.

That was the worst possible outcome and had to be prevented at all costs.

Step one: he'd act normal. Starting tomorrow, no more avoidance, no more weirdness, just jump back into their friendship like nothing happened. This was a must—they were seeing Atiny tomorrow, and if anything was off, they would notice. If not in the moment, then once the footage was made public.

Step two: he'd change the subject any time Wooyoung brought it up and wait for him to eventually forget. Go back to being close friends who don’t kiss. 

Step three: he'd convince himself that this was a great arrangement, not filled with constant heartache. 

Good. Awesome. It felt productive to have a plan. Plans always, always worked out exactly as they shou—

A fast knock on the door made San jump just before Wooyoung burst through it, his eyes on fire and his body tense. 

Shit. What was the plan again?

Wooyoung

Wooyoung gave San as much time as possible before he simply couldn’t take it anymore. He’d had an entire day's plane ride to figure out his feelings, and Wooyoung needed to know exactly what those feelings were. 

“Are you done yet?” 

San took a few steps back, stuttering incoherently until he was finally able to form an almost sentence. “Done with what?”

“Done figuring out what you want from me.” 

“What I want from you?” San pointed a finger at him, his eyes wide and incredulous. “You’re the one who– it was… you need to…” he huffed and looked around as if there’d be an audience who'd side with him. Can you believe this guy?? He’d say with his face, and the audience would laugh as if to say, That’s Wooyoung for you!

Wooyoung didn’t care. He knew his impulsiveness was what got them into this mess to begin with, but he couldn’t just stew in his room thinking about San, about what their relationship was and what it could be, and how San didn’t know how badly Wooyoung wanted it to be something more. And he couldn’t tell him any of that if San was planning to avoid him for the rest of their lives. 

“I know you’re mad at me right now,” Wooyoung crossed his arms. “But you know what, I’m mad at you, too.”

San shook his head before the words fully caught up to his brain. “I’m not mad at… wait, why are you mad at me??” San wasn’t an intimidating guy, but occasionally, something made his soul blaze with conviction and lit him up like an inferno—impossible to look away from and all-consuming. “Wooyoung.” The way San said his name sent shivers down his body. “You’re the one who came to me. You’re the one who almost changed everything.”

“Well, maybe everything should change!” San had gone quiet and still, like a spooked animal who didn’t know yet if it was in danger. “I know you, San-ah, I know you don’t want a casual thing, and I shouldn’t have tried, but you know me, too, and if you’d thought about it, then you would’ve figured out that even though I do things impulsively, I never would've…” he had to pause to breathe, something he often forgot to do. “I never would have done that if I didn’t have feelings for you. And I know I hesitated, but that’s just because I hadn’t figured it out yet! But you didn’t give me a second to think! If you hadn’t kicked me out, if you’d given my heart a few seconds to catch up to my body, then I could’ve told you that I do mean it and that I like you and I want to spend-”

San was across the room faster than Wooyoung could register the movement, and then his hands were on his face and his lips were on his, warm and soft, but they were gone way too soon.

“If you mean it,” San said, “then you mean it. That’s all you had to say.”

Wooyoung felt a shift in the universe. He’d been wrong, he’d been so, so wrong: San wasn’t the same man after they’d kissed. He was different now, he was everything. And his kiss had been like a few drops of water after crawling out of a dessert. Wooyoung needed more. He needed gulps. He pulled him back and pressed their mouths together again, this time drinking him in like he never knew he’d always wanted to. It was hurried and rough yet still soft, and he wanted it to last forever, but he had more to say. 

“If you wanted to kiss me, then why didn’t you just kiss me last night!” San’s lips moved from his mouth to his jaw, leaving a trail of fire across his skin, and Wooyoung moan-yelled his next point. “We could have avoided–”

“Ugh,” San’s voice was muffled through his kisses, “you always just jump in head first without-” 

“Why do you always have to make things so difficult?”

“Me?” He brought his mouth back to Wooyoung’s and his fingers dug into his hair, pulling slightly, sending shivers racing down Wooyoung’s body. Then he pulled back just enough to speak, his lips brushing against Wooyoung’s as he did. “You’re the most difficult person I’ve ever known!”

“And yet you’re the one kissing me!”

“Because I love you!”

“Well, I love you, too!”

“Then why are we yelling?”

They both froze, their breath heavy and their eyes dark, then laughter cut the tension and Wooyoung leaned into San, wrapping his arms around his middle.

“Just kiss me San-ah.” 

San obliged, slowing down, making his kisses softer, sweeter, longer. Wooyoung never wanted him to stop, and he said as much, or at least he thought he did, but whether it was out loud or not, he knew by the way San gently cupped the back of his neck and lowered him onto the bed that he understood.

San

San blinked against the silvery moonlight pouring through his window and had panicked thought that it had all been a dream. Maybe he’d passed out, exhausted, obsessing about Wooyoung, and his subconscious had given him a beautiful gift to heal his aching heart. 

But no, Wooyoung was curled into his side, his head on San’s shoulder, his hand resting on San’s stomach, somehow still cold. San wanted to warm it with his own, press it to his mouth and breathe gentle puffs of air into Wooyoung’s fingers until they were toasty, but he didn’t dare move and ruin the moment. Not now. Not when he’d finally found his way to it.

At some point, Wooyoung had pulled San’s shirt off, though he couldn’t remember exactly how it happened; he’d been too distracted by needing to get his lips back to Wooyoung’s. He would point out the unfair imbalance of his shirt being off while Wooyoung’s was still on, but being shirtless was San’s usual state anyway, so it wasn’t like he was suffering some great inconvenience. Besides, the feeling of Wooyoung pressed against his bare skin was better than he’d imagined (when he’d allowed himself to imagine such things). 

When San had panicked mid-make-out (much later than he should have) about Seonghwa returning from the gym and walking in on them, Wooyoung admitted through hurried kisses that they’d already met in the hall and exchanged room keys. San wanted to be indignant at the fact that Wooyoung had come in with that much confidence, but he couldn’t bring himself to be. Not with any real conviction, anyway. 

He still couldn’t believe this was real. How did everything important in his life change in the span of twenty-four hours? How did he get everything he wanted?

He kissed the top of Wooyoung’s head and whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

San had thought Wooyoung was asleep, so he didn’t have a reason prepared. “Um. For starting this. Last night, I mean.”

Wooyoung looked up at him with sleepy, warm eyes. “Thank you for making me think about it before rushing in.” 

“For once.”

Wooyoung nudged San’s side with his elbow, but then nuzzled back into him, making adorable little humming noises. “I think I’ve wanted to be with you for a while.”

“You think?”

“If you get all pouty again, I swear I’ll kill you.” He raised his head to glare into San’s eyes. “I swear, San-ah. I’ll actually kill you.” 

“All I’m saying is that I know I’ve wanted to be with you for a long time, and I’ll probably want to be with you forever.” 

San held his breath, wishing he could suck those last words back into his mouth. They’d just had their first kiss a few hours ago, and he was already talking about forever??? He was about to backtrack, but then Wooyoung’s brilliant smile made him forget his panic… hell, that smile could make him forget his own name. 

“Forever? Promise?”

San grinned back, pulling Wooyoung even tighter to him, desperate to breathe in this moment and remember it forever. “Promise.” 

“Even when I’m annoying?”

“You’re never annoying.”

“Pppppffffffftttt,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes and flopped back down onto the pillow, facing San. “Now I know you’re lying.”

“Okay, I’ll rephrase. I never find you annoying.” 

Wooyoung smiled at him, and San smiled back, and they lay there for a while just smiling and laughing at each other. San scrunched his nose, unable to contain the fireworks exploding in his heart at the sight of Wooyoung scrunching it back. Everything he did now was ten times cuter than it used to be, if that was even possible. San didn’t want to take his eyes off him. Over the years, he’d already memorized everything about Wooyoung’s face: the beauty spot below his eye, the pout of his lips, the black of his irises… but it felt different now. He felt like he was allowed to look. He didn’t have to quickly avert his gaze and pretend he hadn’t been staring. He got to take Wooyoung in, watch as his eyes roamed back, as his lips pressed together into a cute smile and the skin around his eyes wrinkled with the joy of it. 

“Captain’s going to be so mad.” Even Wooyoung’s voice seemed different now. Lower, softer, more intimate.

“He doesn’t need to know.” 

They were able to keep a straight face for about one and a half seconds before breaking into laughter at the idea of Wooyoung keeping any kind of secret from Hongjoong.

San took Wooyoung’s hand and laced their fingers together. “I don’t think he’ll be mad.”

“Do you think the fans will know?”

“Maybe. Does that scare you?”

Wooyoung thought about it for a moment, then smiled softly and shook his head. “You?”

“No.” San brought the back of Wooyoung’s hands to his lips, now able to warm them. “I think everything’s going to be okay.”

Wooyoung’s eyes were starting to droop. It was so adorable that San wished he could get his phone to film it, but he didn’t want to get up and ruin the moment. 

“If you say it’ll be okay,” Wooyoung said in a sleepy whisper, “I believe you.”

It would be okay. Whatever was next, whatever they had to face, San wouldn’t let it be anything less than miraculous. He had the sudden urge to promise Wooyoung that he’d always protect him, that he’d always be there, that he’d love him forever, but he knew it was way too soon for that. Besides, he was pretty sure Wooyoung was actually asleep this time, and San’s own exhaustion was starting to take over. 

Maybe tomorrow… tomorrow he’d promise Wooyoung the world.