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san has gotten off to dirty thoughts of his best friend more times than he'd like to admit.
he's come into his own palm with wooyoung's name on his lips, a silent plea that racks his chest and brings tears to his eyes more times than you'd probably deem healthy.
it's what he's doing now, heat flooding his cheeks with shame as he thinks of his best friend under him, thinks of his pretty plump lips that are always pouting and yelling at him, of the mole residing on their plush surface that san finds himself so often distracted by.
but in the middle of it, just as a worn out record player abruptly cuts off a song that's been repeating too long, san's singing thoughts of wooyoung wooyoung wooyoung are suddenly interrupted by the rude vibrations of his phone.
any other time, he would ignore it, but san desperately wants it to be wooyoung, can't shake the possibility that it might be, can't risk not picking up a call from him.
gingerly, he tucks his half-hard cock back into his pants, walking stiffly to his bedside table where is phone is lying.
yeosang's name lights up the screen, and san's heart sinks in disappointment.
"what?" he asks, reluctantly picking up.
"please, don't sound so excited to hear me," yeosang replies dryly.
"sorry, i was in the middle of something."
"what, were you jacking off to hentai?" he jokes, and san forces a laugh, flopping down on the bed and staring at the ceiling.
"anyway, i know it's late, but do you think you can go over to wooyoung's apartment?"
san sits up straight.
"yeah, why?" he tries to keep his voice casual, because nothing gets past yeosang, who's already suspicious of him.
yeosang makes a sound of complaint, and san hears the sound of cars rushing by. "he's come down with something. i would have stayed, but i figured jaewon would've, and now i'm halfway to the city-"
san's insides twist at the mention of wooyoung's boyfriend, a foul taste in his mouth.
he must stay quiet for too long, too busy trying to telepathically smite jaewon down with his mind, because yeosang sighs, speaking again.
"look, he just needs you, okay?"
it's not as if san needs any convincing, but those words have him halfway to the door.
"don't worry, i've got it." he reassures, already getting his shoes on.
yeosang thanks him and hangs up, and san finally breathes out, trying to loosen the tension in his chest.
his boner is not forgotten, because the thought of being near to wooyoung has heat prickling over his skin like an itch begging to be scratched.
but san pulls himself together, willing it away, because his best friend needs him.
they're yeosang's words, but they still have his stomach flipping, his heart soaring.
it's a special thing, a unique gift, to be needed by jung wooyoung.
as exceptional as a comet streaking in a flash against a perfectly clear night among twinkling stars, beautiful and serene- such was the rarity of being chosen by wooyoung.
he's picky with his friends, and even to be noticed by him has anyone feeling some sort of special, like you just might be worth something.
or maybe that's just san.
he wonders if yeosang has any inkling of his feelings, if it's as obvious to everyone else as san thinks it is, written plainly on his face like flashing neon letters every time he looks at wooyoung.
the last time they went clubbing together, san spent the night pitifully nursing his drink and pining wistfully after wooyoung as he twisted and turned on the dance floor.
he had rejected so many advances, yeosang had begun to get annoyed with him, following his gaze to where it unfailingly landed on wooyoung throughout the night.
sometimes, but more than ever on that night, san wishes they were strangers.
strangers that can easily hit on one another at a club, dancing body to body like wooyoung had done so confidently, so freely with so many people.
but most of the time, san abandons that thought, because he thinks it would hurt more not to know wooyoung than it does to love him.
so loves him he does, in pervasive silence.
he makes it to wooyoung's in roughly twenty minutes, standing in front of his door like a moth to a flame that never burns out.
lifting up the doormat, san finds the key wooyoung so futilely hides, unlocking the door and letting himself in.
taking his shoes off, he takes a moment to collect himself, trying not to be overwhelmed with the subtle aroma wafting through the apartment that is unmistakably wooyoung.
after a moment too long, san goes to the living room, finding wooyoung poised with a mug in hand, halfway to the couch with a blanket draped around his shoulders.
"hey," he greets him, holding up the key and giving a disapproving nod. "it's dangerous to leave it under the mat, young-ah."
wooyoung stares at him, all wet eyes and reddened nose, surprised at his presence.
"yeosang called me to check up on you." he explains, and wooyoung nods in understanding, sitting down on the couch.
he sips his tea, frowning. "yeah. he was pretty pissed when jaewon left."
"he... left you?"
san stands still, mouth agape and brows slowly drawing together in confused anger.
he left him.
in this state.
wooyoung's feeble nod, the way it's embarrassed, ashamed, like he's done something wrong-
san's anger builds and feels like a fizzling fuse, sparking and spluttering and ready to explode, hardly containable.
"it's fine! i'm fine, really-" wooyoung rushes to explain, to justify it, but breaks off in a fit of coughs.
his bleary, reddened eyes water with the force of his coughing fit, the sweat beading on his face glistening as it catches the light with the jerks of his head. though his cheeks are coloured, white shirt damply clinging to his skin in patches, he's shivering - evidence of a running fever.
san's heart just gives out, deflating, concern overtaking the rage as he walks firmly over to wooyoung's curled form on the couch.
fists clenched at his sides, shaking, san has half a mind to find jaewon and commit murder.
but wooyoung must see it, and one weak look from those heavy-lidded puppy-dog eyes silently pleading him to leave it alone is enough to quell san's urges.
going to him, san falls it his knees, reaching up to cradle wooyoung's face, immediately overcome with the sweet and sickly air radiating off of and around him.
"hey, hey..." he murmurs lowly, brushing his mussed hair out of his face.
pressing a hand to his forehead, san confirms the fever. "you're burning up, love."
calling his best friend "love" is a force of habit.
of course, it's not something san's been able to help over time, the endearment slipping easily as a result of years of unrequited and hidden feelings.
the nickname is a selfish little gift for himself, the only time he'll ever let himself reveal the fact that he is, well, very much in love with his best friend out loud.
it's just... nice to have the two in the same sentence.
the concept of the two even co-existing in the same context is san's small treasure.
love and wooyoung.
wooyoung and love.
they've begun to mean the same thing, and no matter how many times he thinks it, says it, it always carries the same weight, never becoming meaningless after repetition.
heaven knows he's certainly tried.
and he has to try very hard not to be selfish right now, because wooyoung whimpers, squirming under his touch.
it's not right to find him so attractive at this moment, but something about the heat clinging between them, exuding from wooyoung, his uncontrolled little moans and the way his expression resembles a very different activity-
san has got to keep it in his pants.
he would never, ever take advantage of wooyoung, but somehow, he feels like he's doing it anyway, just by being so horribly attracted to him right now.
by imagining him so fucked-out he can hardly move, can hardly keep his eyes open, all because of san-
he blinks. swallows.
get it together.
remember that time you gave him a bath because he puked all over himself?
yeah.
that was harder. if you can get through that, you can get through this.
"what do you need?"
he asks gently, still holding his face, and slaps himself mentally about a hundred times when wooyoung gazes up at him, wetting his lips before speaking hoarsely, tongue poking out to that little mole san's obsessed with as if he's just finished choking on san's dick.
make that a thousand times.
maybe this is more difficult, because wooyoung's actually conscious, and not covered in digested bits of pizza and vodka.
thinking about gross things helps.
"d-don't know. 'm really hot."
god, and he's really whiny.
making himself remove his hands from his face, san takes a breath. "i'm gonna get some cold water, okay? can try bring this fever down."
"okay." wooyoung agrees, managing a feeble smile. "'m sorry."
san stops, frowning. "sorry for what?"
he keeps his voice steady, clear.
wooyoung shrugs, coiling into himself. "'s embarrassing. i'm yucky right now. and you probably have better things to do."
he really doesn't.
as far as san's concerned, being there for wooyoung is the most important thing.
and, y'know, the whole "being in love with him" part doesn't help the arrangement of his priorities either.
"you're not." he assures him gently, able to look at him with the full extent of adoration he usually masks, gaze heavy with love.
wooyoung's too out of it to notice.
the doubtful hum wooyoung emits isn't convincing, and san turns to face him fully again.
"you're not." he repeats, insistent.
wooyoung closes his eyes, responding this time with a decisive nod.
it seems that's as far as he'll get through to him for now, so san turns back to fetch the cloth and water.
it doesn't matter that san's worlds away in his head - he can navigate wooyoung's apartment perfectly, not needing to concentrate.
this is familiar.
this hallway has seen them both on its floor, has seen them blackout drunk and dragged through.
maybe it remembers the two of them sitting together, heads lolling against the wall, giggling uncontrollably and knees knocking as well as san does.
it remembers things san doesn't, things wooyoung doesn't speak of, like a drunken kiss shared in its doorway one night.
if only san's memory was as good as this hallway's, where things are set in stone and live forever bound in finely cracking plaster like a museum filled with memorabilia of regret, things could be different. less regret of missed opportunities, times he could've, should've kissed him, told him, touched him.
this kitchen has seen him cry over the amount of wooyoung's dirty dishes loaded up in the sink, has seen him do them all anyway. because sometimes that's as simple as love is.
and here are tiles he's peeled wooyoung's face off of after another night of one (or ten) too many drinks, the table he's gently shaken him awake from so many times after having fallen asleep studying too hard.
wooyoung's balanced like that. for every egregious overindulgence, there is commitment and effort, dedication to his work as well as to his free time.
anyone else would say that he's flawless, but san knows better, and loves him all the more for it.
every bit of this apartment holds memories, maybe that only san holds so dear.
maybe that's why the simple act of choosing a soft wash cloth for wooyoung's fever and filling a chipped bowel (his fault- sometimes washing dishes gets violent, okay?) with icy water fills him with such warmth.
he goes back to wooyoung, careful not to spill, squatting on the floor in front of him again. he soaks the cloth, wringing it out a bit before bringing it to wooyoung's burning forehead.
wooyoung winces at the sensation, opening his eyes halfway.
"you didn't leave."
it's a quiet statement more than a question, an observation.
unable to help himself, san tucks hair behind his ears, gently dabbing the cloth across his brow.
"no." he agrees, focusing on the texture of the cloth beneath his hand rather than wooyoung's lazy eyes fixating on him.
"that better?" he asks, nails grazing his jaw the barest amount.
"mhm." wooyoung hums, arching his neck forward into the cloth, visibly relaxing.
san dips it back in the water, turning his attention to his cheeks, the slope of his throat.
he's even more careful here, dabbing down his skin and ridding him of the sticky sweat.
flattening his hand, he manoeuvres the cloth to the back of wooyoung's neck, venturing under his outgrown hair.
wooyoung's lips part, head lolling to the side.
"oh," he sighs, breathing out deeply. "that's nice."
instilled with new confidence at the encouragement, san lets his fingertips wonder further up his scalp, spreading his fingers through the slightly damp strands, midnight black twirling around his exploratory touch.
he rubs at his scalp, hopefully bringing wooyoung some relief.
if his grateful little murmurs are anything to go by, the way he's relaxing into san's hand, pressing into his palm, then he is.
san's thighs are beginning to ache from the crouching position, but it's so worth it.
letting himself get lost in these gentle caresses, san's eyes wonder to the floor, strewn with crumpled tissues, and again has to wonder why on earth wooyoung's boyfriend would have left him in this state.
he chews his lips to keep from asking, heart aching at wooyoung's occasional pitiful sniffles.
the thing is, wooyoung is a relatively fenced-off person.
don't get him wrong, san is all too familiar with his outgoing personality, his unapologetically loud way of existence.
but knowing him for as long as san has has exposed the front this is, the insecurities and introverted qualities wooyoung keeps locked away from public eye.
he very rarely allows himself to be perceived within the realm of vulnerability, but this meagre state epitomises naked sensitivity - something only the common cold can achieve.
san exhales a laugh at the thought, wiping wooyoung's brow as the boy opens his eyes to scowl at him.
"what?" he questions, voice thick and scratchy.
"was just thinking that it'd be fitting for you to be taken out by the common cold."
out of energy to argue, wooyoung closes his eyes, sniffing pointedly. "this is not common. if this was common, you'd never hear from me again."
san smiles, patting his head and humming in agreement.
taking the cloth to the collar of his shirt, san slips it under the materal the barest amount.
wooyoung stiffens, making san stop immediately, but a feeble nod encourages him to continue.
if he doesn't say something else soon, san will drown in this intimacy, in these little noises he's making.
swallowing hard, he wrings the cloth back in bowl, trying to ignore the soft whimper wooyoung elicts at the loss of contact.
"have you eaten?" he breaks the silence, icy for him but likely comfortable for wooyoung.
"mhm." he hums again, blinking slowly. "had some soup."
"that's good," san nods, continuing massaging motions through his hair, other hand stroking the width of his neck with only the tips of his fingers.
"you think you can eat something else?"
blowing air through his lips, wooyoung tips his head back, inconsiderate of the obstacle this causes for san.
it further exposes his neck, the column of his throat, his protruding adam's apple when he swallows.
almost unintentionally, san's fingers wonder further round to the front, pressing with a little more pressure to the newly exposed skin.
"not yet. 'm still queasy." he rubs his stomach for emphasis, lowering his eyes to san's, then further down.
"come up here. that can't be comfy."
san hesitates, raising halfway upwards.
there's space on the couch, but not a lot of it.
none of that doesn't smell of wooyoung, that his scent isn't clinging to.
"if you're okay with getting sick, of course. you don't have to- just, if you're gonna stay, it'd be more practical-"
interrupting his rambles, san climbs up onto the couch, nuzzling into wooyoung's side.
he's overly touchy to prove a point, dropping his head in the crook between his neck and shoulder, foregoing the dabbing cloth for a moment.
"i don't care," he says, voice muffled. "you're not yucky."
wooyoung giggles, tickled by his breath so close to skin. he wriggles to make space for him, the light sound music to san's ears.
"c'mere." san says, hooking his arms under wooyoung's legs to lift him up, easily manoeuvring his limp body.
he's strong enough to pick him up normally, but without wooyoung's usual playful resistance, it's as if he's weightless.
in fact, he's definitely lost some.
san tries not to overthink it, to be so concerned, because that's not his place.
he also tries not to hold him for too long, to let himself get too familiar with wooyoung's body in his hands.
don't let it linger. that's san's motto, because soon wooyoung will be back in jaewon's arms, and this will be a fleeting memory.
while wooyoung is too weak and too surprised to resist, that doesn't stop him from complaining verbally, at length.
"i'm taking care of you. shush." he tells him, helping wooyoung to lay his head in his lap. "that comfy?"
silence, and another wiggle. then, "yeah. you're like a pillow."
they've cuddled before.
san's clingy, and so is wooyoung.
in fact, they cuddle quite often.
but they haven't been, not as much since jaewon.
san shoves him out of his mind, zeroing in on wooyoung's relaxed expression where he's laying in his lap, his flushed cheeks and pouted lips, the mole beneath his eye.
the ice has melted now, and san goes back to wetting the cloth, laying it out on wooyoung's forehead under his bangs, which he brushes out the way.
"sleep." san tells him gently, every muscle tensing in his body when wooyoung noses against his thigh, lips catching on his jeans.
holding his breath, he readjusts the cloth, also pulling up wooyoung's blanket to cover him more wholly.
but wooyoung kicks it off, making noises of complaint again.
"ugh. hot again." he groans, raising his hand to the cloth on his forehead.
trying to keep his hands to himself, san has to remember to breathe out, to regulate himself.
because wooyoung's clothes are all ridden up and rumpled, exposing the skin of his body that is curled against san's, and it's all a bit much.
he swallows, flattening his hands at his sides to keep them off of wooyoung.
"do you want to take your shirt off? it might help the fever. i'll dab you down some more."
wooyoung hesitates, twisting his body and looking up at san with brows contorted, contemplating.
"okay." he agrees decidedly, about to sit up.
steadying him, san keeps him in place gently after seeing the struggle and effort if takes to move, hooking his fingers under his shirt.
"i'll do it."
with permission in form of a curt nod, san peels the material away from his skin, removing it over his head as carefully as he can.
it drops to the floor with a soundless thud that's impact echoes throughout the apartment, discarded next to the couch.
by now, san stops trying not to.
he just looks at wooyoung's bare chest beneath him, its golden dip into the smooth lines of his stomach.
with quivering hands, san drenches the cloth another time, bringing it first to his collarbones, not daring to explore further yet.
he wipes it across his chest, very slowly in circular motions.
"this good?" he asks gently, seeking consent, confirmation, anything to take away from the gnawing guilt he feels by sort of taking advantage of the situation.
wooyoung nods stiffly, and san can't help but notice how tense he is.
"then relax," he encourages, wiping the cloth up his neck playfully like he's scratching under the chin of a timid cat.
wooyoung laughs airily under his breath, eyelids fluttering as he adjusts to the sensation.
waiting for him to seem more relaxed, for the muscles beneath his hands to uncoil, san ventures lower.
across his pecks, albeit avoiding touching his nipples.
of course, they're perfectly symmetrical, perky and pink and begging for san to touch them.
and he's seen them before, so this shouldn't be so goddamn hard.
except all those other times, wooyoung wasn't reacting to every touch, subtly squirming under san's hands and breaking out in prickling goosebumps over his skin, hairs on end.
it's almost as if he's edging him, depriving him of the stimulation he wants the most, of granting him relief where he's most sensitive.
and san wishes that was what this is, yearns for this to be in different context, one where he's slowly taking wooyoung apart and worshipping his body like he truly wants to.
he can almost pretend it is, that that is what's happening, just watching wooyoung's expression flicker between unmasked pleasure and something akin to pain, but not quite as blatant as that, rather softer and desperate like it's hurting him for san not to touch him.
flushed deep red, wooyoung's hair is plastered to his forehead again, and san can't help himself from reaching down to brush it away.
maybe his hand lingers there too long, because before he can go back to dabbing at his fevered skin, wooyoung rolls over, hiding away.
"bit cold again."
he mumbles, tucking his knees up and curling into san's side facing away from him. "blanket?"
hand poised with the cloth in the air, san puts it aside dumbly, blinking away his fantasy.
obviously, wooyoung's skin is not alive with his touch, but rather reacting to the cold air in his apartment.
"sure." he says, a beat too late, pulling the blanket up over wooyoung's body.
they stay like that until wooyoung's soft snores drift through the room, and san just plays with his hair idly, stroking his head as he sleeps.
he's so close, but he's never felt further, a world away in his dreams while san sits there wide awake, thoughts spinning and turning over and over.
the next time he sees wooyoung is an a week.
they usually don't go so long without seeing one another (a week isn't that long, but san's dramatic), but neither one of them seems to have had the courage to reach out.
he's terrified he's made wooyoung uncomfortable somehow, like he crossed some line, and wooyoung's just too nice to tell him outright, so he's distancing himself.
but, when san gets a text from his best friend while at the gym, asking if he'd like to come over-
dumbbells become the last thing on his mind.
overenthusiastic, san doesn't change - he's not too smelly, hasn't been at the gym too long - quickly pulling a beanie over his un-styled hair, making his way to wooyoung's clad in grey sweats and a black wife beater.
it's only when he gets to the door that he regrets not changing, suddenly wishing he'd made more of an effort with his appearance.
but then again, that might have been too obvious, as there was no good reason to get dressed up just to hang out with his best friend.
unreasonably nervous, san adjusts the beanie, pulling out some stray strands at the front.
shifting his weight from foot to foot, he desperately tries to calm his beating heart.
taking a breath, san knock on the door, and before he can even exhale, wooyoung's swinging it open.
"hi," he greets, and wooyoung seems frozen in the doorway, staring at him with his arm still poised, a greeting stuck in his throat.
"gonna let me in?" san teases, unbearably uneasy in front of him, still outside.
"y-yeah."
wooyoung blinks out of his inexplicable haze, stepping aside to let san through the door.
it's good to see him looking better, but clearly, he hasn't fully recovered, face flushed a deep red.
"hey, do you still have a fever?"
frowning, san reaches forward to feel his temperature.
but wooyoung catches his wrist, slapping his hand away before turning his back, hastily going toward the kitchen. "no, no. i'm better now."
unconvinced, san follows after him, catching his bicep to turn him around. "are you sure? you're really red-"
he examines wooyoung's face, who refuses to meet his eyes, pupils darting about erratically.
san's gaze drops to his lips, which he's biting, teeth indenting on their plush surface, hiding the little mole.
"i'm sure." wooyoung reasons, shaking out of his grip. "it's probably because i was- uh- working out."
"oh," san immediately brightens, glad he's well. "me too."
it fills him with unreasonable joy that they were doing the same thing at the same time in different places, like they're cosmically bound by some invisible force, some string of fate.
wooyoung mutters something he doesn't catch, still walking too quickly, footsteps harsh and purposeful.
like a puppy, san follows, just pleased to be in his presence.
"mmm, are you cooking?"
he asks, nostrils met with the glorious and unmistakable whiff of wooyoung's food sizzling on the stove as the near the kitchen.
"yeah," wooyoung confirms, stirring the wock precisely and checking on the status of another pot that appears to be almost boiling over.
"i wanted to repay you."
"for?"
"for taking care of me when i was sick."
puzzled, san leans against the counter, watching wooyoung stare down the bubbling liquid.
"you don't have to. i wanted to."
scoffing, wooyoung shoots him a stubborn glare.
"well then i want to do this."
san hums in agreement, smiling to himself at wooyoung's attitude.
it's good that he has it back, indicative of his recovery.
"what are you smiling about?" wooyoung challenges without turning around, somehow able to sense san's reaction.
"you." san replies without thinking, coming to his side to inspect the food. "your food," he corrects, poking at a dish wooyoung swats him away from.
"it smells amazing."
"hands off," wooyoung warns him off, whipping a knife on him that san didn't know he had.
and it's his own fault for being too close, but the blade nicks him, the sharp flick causing him to wince and yelp in surprise.
"shit!" wooyoung swears, immediately dropping the knife with a clatter, his eyes going wide.
the blood immediately trickles out, but it's barely a cut, a little vertical line on his upper arm.
"i didn't mean to! oh my god, what the fuck." wooyoung frets, grabbing at san's arm to examine the wound he's just inflicted. "are you- is it okay?"
it doesn't hurt, but san forgets to answer, just enraptured by the way the sunlight is hitting wooyoung's concerned face, illuminating his twisted features and casting a golden glow that makes him just that much more beautiful, and on his fingers tenderly curling around san's arm.
he catches a drop of the blood on his finger, bringing it to his lips.
that snaps san out of it, because ew, but also-
wooyoung's lips, closed around his finger, sucking.
lord, have mercy.
"it's fine, it's fine." he says, shoving wooyoung playfully. "it's nothing."
wooyoung makes an exasperated noise, keeling over to hold his knees. "jesus, thank god. i thought i stabbed you."
san goes to the sink, running the tap to clean the blood off his arm.
"nope, sorry. you'll have to try harder than that to kill me." he jokes, rubbing his arm.
now getting over his fear, wooyoung skulks over to him, clinging dramatically to san with most of his body weight.
"i'm sorry, sannie." he whines dramatically, pouting. "let me kiss it better."
edging away a little, san laughs nervously, ignoring the way his heart skips a beat at the thought of wooyoung's lips on his arms, his body.
so when wooyoung puckers his lips, making childish kissy noises, it's just san's luck that he crashes into wooyoung's simmering pots in a rash attempt to leap out of the way.
subsequently, there's food and steaming water sloshing onto the counter, the floor.
"fuck," san exclaims, jumping away from the scathing spillage, the same time wooyoung yells a panicked "san!"
"what the hell?" wooyoung questions, unravelling paper towel rapidly while san swears under his breath, veering out of his way.
"what's wrong with you?" he questions under his breath, frantically soaking up the mess.
and san doesn't have an answer, because there's no justification for freaking out like that besides...
yeah.
"sorry, i'm sorry," san apologises uselessly, trying to salvage the vegetables currently decorating wooyoung's counter by scooping them back into the pot.
"shit," he hisses, because unsurprisingly, they're hot.
"leave it." wooyoung snaps, and the coldness in his voice stings san more sharply than the knife.
dumbly, he steps back.
wooyoung scrubs furiously, not saying anything, which only builds this awful tension, widens the gap between them.
biding his time, san waits for him to finish before apologising again, lost for what else to say.
"i'm sorry." he tries again, leaning forward to catch wooyoung's eye.
"it was for you." wooyoung exclaims, scrunching up the last of the dirty towels to chuck them in the bin.
"it's okay-" san says, because it's his fault, he's the one ruining everything.
"it's not!"
his shoulders sag, and san sees his nose is getting scrunched up in that way it does when he's trying not to cry.
"i wanted to do something nice for you, and-"
he breaks off, raising his eyes to the roof and blinking the tears away before they come.
"hey, hey..." san goes forward, nudging his shoulder.
"look at me. it's okay, yeah? i'm the clumsy idiot who spilt your shit. it isn't your fault, you didn't do anything wrong."
wooyoung snaps his head down to look at him, eyes shining.
"then why'd you- why have you been acting like i'm poisonous or some shit?"
he barks a short laugh, but it's obviously bothering him. "i'm not... i'm not sick anymore."
"i haven't-" san tries, but wooyoung stares at him like seriously?
san shuts up.
"i don't-" wooyoung loses his words again, chewing on his lips in effort not to let the tears spill. "i don't understand you."
"what do you mean?" san asks carefully, half scared of the answer, not sure if he can bare it.
wooyoung stares at him, seems to consider something.
"i broke up with jaewon."
oh?
san swallows thickly, trying to maintain composure.
he grips the counter for support, fingers digging into the granite so tensely the veins on his hands pop out.
"oh." he answers levelly, giving a grave nod. "sorry."
questions of why, why, why? bubble inside him, spinning and spinning, but he keeps a cap on them.
now's not the time.
"except you're not." wooyoung chastises, tone scathing.
"you're not." he insists, before san can defend himself, pointing an accusatory finger in his face. "and now i'm thinking i've made a mistake, because you're barely looking at me, can't even stand me touching you-
"why would that make it a mistake?"
wooyoung just sniffs, raising his chin like he's too proud to admit what san thinks, what he hopes he's getting at.
"after that kiss, i figured that was it, that it never meant anything because you never brought it up or anything, so, so- so i moved on, because we're friends. friends! and then you go pull that shit, messing with me, touching me like- like you care-"
but everything after what he said first is white noise.
san's brain is buzzing, searching and searching for a memory that just won't come.
"what kiss?"
wooyoung stops, faltering, cocking his head.
"what?"
"what kiss?" san repeats, desperate, launching himself off of the counter to grab wooyoung by the collar.
"the-" wooyoung splutters, eyes wide in disbelief. "you don't- you don't remember?"
heart beating in his chest, up in his throat, san's grip relaxes on wooyoung's shirt, calming down as he drowns in the carob depths of his incredulous eyes.
"love, if i remembered something like that, you'd know it. when- when did we-"
"that's how little it meant. god, i was so wrong, so stupid to think- and that- that nickname! stop doing things, stop saying things that don't mean anything to you!"
and that's just about it for san, so he pushes him backward with his hold on his collar, crowding him right up against the counter.
"love," he repeats in an exhale, dropping his head onto wooyoung's shoulder. "i'm in love with you. and if i kissed you, it would mean everything."
finally, he's said it.
it's liberating, to get those words out of his mouth, out from his heart.
he should've said them long ago, but better late than never.
"you're... what?" wooyoung's in a daze, going very still.
then, "you're what?" louder, with that wooyoung-esq attitude san's so in love with.
he shoves him, and san can't help but laugh.
they've been so stupid- a pair of ridiculous fools.
shrugging, he tries to contain the bubbly giggles that are wracking his body. "yeah. i am."
wooyoung's definitely about to have another go at him, lips poised for arguments, insults, but through his own comical grinning, san finds a way to finally kiss him.
inhaling deeply as their lips touch, san's hands fall to his hips, pulling his body into his own.
like he's relieved, wooyoung produces a little sigh.
san just kisses and kisses and kisses him, like this is oxygen and he's learning how to breathe. wooyoung's the shore, and san's tidal waves, just crashing into him after so much pulling back.
hands sneaking up his back, wooyoung pulls the beanie off of his head, throwing it mindlessly to the side.
for all they know, it landed in what's left of the food, but neither of them care, because every tangible thing besides the other has melted away.
eagerly, wooyoung winds his hands in san's hair, clinging to him like he's going to slip away.
san drags his own hands up wooyoung's body, squeezing at the flesh beneath his clothes.
whimpering, wooyoung opens his mouth to his, letting san lick inside.
their hips knock together, and san just wants him everywhere, the slight friction sending white hot flames licking down his spine.
he turns his attention to wooyoung's thighs, cupping his ass and lifting him up effortlessly to sit on the counter.
without breaking stride, wooyoung winds his legs around san's waist, bucking his hips forward to gain contact at this better angle.
"fuck," he swears, breaking away for breath.
san just can't stop kissing him, mouthing along his jaw then down his neck, replacing the damp cloth from last week with his tongue.
"i've waited so long to be able to do this," san admits breathlessly against his skin, pressing their foreheads together and nipping wooyoung's bottom lip. "you have no idea."
"yeah?" wooyoung goads, exposing his neck for san to get back to.
"yeah," san confirms, rubbing his thighs with strong hands and flattening his tongue over his adam's apple, sucking his throat hard enough to leave deep purple marks.
"i never wanted you as bad as last week, though."
humming, wooyoung tugs on his hair, other hand curling around san's bicep. "tell me how you wanted me."
san kisses down his chest, unbuttoning the shirt with one hand as be goes. "wanted to fuck you, young-ah. wanted to fuck you stupid, till you were a complete mess i had to take care of, too cock-dumb to speak."
wooyoung whimpers at the prospect, legs tightening around his waist. "i want that. jesus christ, i want that. please-"
san smirks, reaching to the band of wooyoung's pants between their bodies, palming him through the material.
"you're begging already? didn't know you were so desperate for my cock, love."
"if you knew, you would've given it to me a long time ago." wooyoung points out, craning his neck in search of san's mouth. "you're the desperate one, dreaming of- ah- dreaming of fucking me stupid."
connecting their mouths, san kisses him hungrily, all teeth and tongue, electrified by this newfound side of his best friend he hasn't yet been exposed to.
it shouldn't be a surprise, really, that wooyoung's as much of a brat in bed as he is normally.
"you're right," he cooes, slipping a finger into wooyoung's mouth, which his lips close around instantly. "i am. i'm desperate for your tight hole. can't imagine how you're gonna feel around my cock."
pulling his finger out, he adds as an afterthought, "you do have condoms, right?"
wooyoung nods erratically, but confuses san with a just as violent shake of his head.
"yeah, but i want you raw. wanna feel you. 'm clean, i promise, i get tested regularly-"
san cuts him off with a short kiss, a little bit insane with the thought of wooyoung taking him raw, with the thought of him wanting that.
"i trust you." he says, also kissing the mole under his eye, the tender action completely out of place but perfectly sensical, because it's them.
nodding, wooyoung hops off of the counter, hands wondering under san's top as he connects their mouths again.
his touch is cool on san's heated body, making him shiver.
he touches with such unabashed desire, hand following the bumps of his spine and grabbing his waist.
"ugh," he suddenly exclaims in frustration, tugging at san's shirt. "i can't decide if i want this on or off."
confused, san looks down at the black wife beater. "this?"
"fuck, yeah," wooyoung whines, running his hands over san's arms. "you look so fucking hot. do you even know how good this stupid shirt looks on you?"
smirking, san flexes his muscles, wiggling his eyebrows.
wooyoung's eyes go wide and glossy, drool almost certainly pooling in his mouth.
personally, san wants to feel his skin against wooyoung's, wants to know what it's like to be totally enveloped by him. so he opts for off, peeling the tight material over his head.
wooyoung oggles his bare chest for a moment, gaze dropping to his abs, to the fine happy-trail of hair leading down into the sweats hanging dangerously low on his hips.
"yeah, okay." he agrees decidedly to himself, blinking before pulling san by the hand. "bed. now."
san almost trips over his feet on the way, and wooyoung's in just as much of a hurry.
it's too far, too long to go without kissing him, so he has wooyoung pressed up against the doorframe of his bedroom before they make it to the bed, pinning him with his body.
needy, wooyoung's hands snake around his bare waist, nails grazing the skin and skimming the waistband of his sweats.
sucking on his tongue, san draws out long wines from deep in wooyoung's throat, lapping up every sound he makes.
when wooyoung breaks the kiss, his head just lolls back like a puppet, and san's back on his neck, hungry open-mouthed kisses staking claim in slow pasionate swirls of his tongue.
he makes his way to his chest, exposed enough for san to pucker his lips around a dark pink nipple, perked out.
sucking, he kneeds the soft flesh with his knuckles, rubbing the other one with his thumb.
"so perfect," he pants, switching to the neglected knob and gifting it equal attention.
"hgh-" wooyoung manages, holding on for dear life to san's hair, whimpering at san's teeth on the sensitive bud.
biting gently, san is awarded with a louder moan and a harder tug on his hair, stinging his scalp wonderfully.
he wants to go lower, returning a hand to palm wooyoung's erection, and is surprised to be met with damp precum already.
grinning devilishly, he grabs wooyoung's chin to make him look at him. "gonna come in your pants?"
glaring, wooyoung gestures behind him with a weak motion of his head, saying "bed." gruffly.
san obliges, taking wooyoung's hands and walking backwards, bringing them to his mouth to kiss his knuckles repeatedly.
when the back of his knees hit the bed, he sits, pulling wooyoung into his lap and cupping his hands around his plush ass, scooting him ever closer.
"you want me to ride you?" wooyoung asks, and the brash words have san tripping and falling, momentarily cross-eyed and delirious with the prospect.
he wets his lips, tongue poking out between his teeth. "fuck, yeah. but- i wanna finger you, and it might be kinda hard-"
he circles a finger round wooyoung's hole through his pants, testing the angle. the sensation makes wooyoung arch his back, trying to expose more of himself automatically.
"okay," he agrees, holding san's face in his hands, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes. "how do you want me?
san leans in for a chaste kiss, buzzing with love and anticipation. "on your back," he says, shuffling backwards. "wanna kiss you while i do it. wanna see your face when i make you come."
raising an eyebrow, wooyoung tightens his hold. "bold of you to think you'll make me come."
san chuckles, knocking wooyoung off his lap and climbing over him instead. body poised perfectly atop his, he leans down for another kiss, full of tongue and intention.
"twice." he says after, edging wooyoung's thighs apart with his knee. "don't pretend you aren't already so wet for me."
reddening, wooyoung hides his face in the sheets, lifting his hips for san to tug off his pants.
"i'll hold you to that." he mumbles, as san pulls them around his ankles, exposing his gloriously muscled honey-coloured thighs and the erection so pertinently tenting his boxers.
san has to take a moment to collect himself at the sight of him, sitting back on his haunches and looking down at the body displayed under him in awe.
sheepishly, wooyoung squirms. "stop that."
he's embarrassed, hiding his face still which is undoubtedly painted rosy red.
san's just so overcome, because this is so many times better than his imagination.
"can't." he tells him with a shrug, leaning back down to brush his lips over wooyoung's hip bone. "you're so beautiful."
side-eyeing him, wooyoung just mutters "sap."
nodding, san buries his face against wooyoung's abdomen, both hands holding onto his sculpted thighs.
"mhmm," he hums, sucking the flawless skin below his belly button.
it's a wonderful surprise that wooyoung shaves immaculately, something san wouldn't have guessed about him or been privy to before.
edging his thighs further apart, san's fingers meet the supple flesh of wooyoung's left inner thigh, digging into the milky flesh that hasn't felt the kiss of the sun as well as the rest of his body.
san's lips take its place, his tongue rays of sunshine painting the light skin, suckling and biting as indulgently as he pleases.
it's clearly affecting wooyoung, who's chest is heaving as the wet patch in his underwear darkens.
not wanting to neglect him further, san takes pity on him, finally hooking his fingers around the band of his boxers.
he pulls it back, letting it snap back too wooyoung's skin, watching his face contort as he lets out a whimper.
"off," he emphasises impatiently, and san obliges this time, breath catching in his throat as wooyoung's cock is freed, thick and leaking from the dark pink head, which is poking into his stomach.
"fuck." he marvels in a breath, mouth practically watering at the sight.
he needs a moment. "wooyoung."
"shut up."
he moans, not used to such treatment, perhaps even more embarrassed because its san ogling at him, not some random hookup.
"can't," san reiterates, completely honest. "you're- i can't believe i get to see you like this. can't believe this is real."
wooyoung raises his head, glaring down at him. "san. i swear to god, if you don't shut up and just touch me i'm gonna kill you."
pouting, san leans up, kissing his chest, the hollow of his neck. "you already tried that, love."
he reminds wooyoung of his little accident, indicating the cut on his arm, clutching it in mock pain.
suddenly, wooyoung sits up, so quickly that their heads knock.
"ow-" san exclaims, pinning him back down. "what?"
"the stove!" wooyoung swears, eyes wide and writhing in san's grasp. "did i turn the stove off?"
san bites his ear, dragging the lobe down between his teeth. "you're thinking about the fucking stove right now?"
"no, but-" wooyoung exasperates, slapping san's chest with his hands. "i don't really wanna die in a house fire while we're having sex."
considering this, san draws circles on his thigh. "hm. a reasonable point. it would be embarrassing to have our charred naked bodies discovered intertwined."
giggling, wooyoung gives him pleading eyes. "please go check?"
sighing dramatically, san clutches his heart like this is the end of the world, to have to leave wooyoung's bed.
"fine."
so, he scrambles off of him having to walk to the kitchen totally rock-hard in his sweats, the thin material doing nothing to hide it.
he makes the journey grinning like a fool, still feeling like this a dream.
placing one foot in front of the other brings him down to earth a little, and the come down to reality has him shaking.
not dwelling on his nerves, san turns to the kitchen, scoffing when he sees the stove is, in fact, off.
turning around, he returns to wooyoung's room with hurried strides, mildly irritated that he got up for nothing.
"its off, you little shit-" san starts, but the rest of his words get stuck in his throat and he skirts to a halt in the doorway, having to steady himself on the frame.
inhaling sharply, he takes in the sight of wooyoung lying naked on the bed, unbuttoned shirt uselessly pulled to either side of his body, still rumpled on his shoulders.
he's the picture of debauchery, flushed red, lips parted slightly and eyes squeezed shut, splayed for the taking.
and he's taken to pleasuring himself, two fingers reached around his ass to pump in and out of his hole.
san swallows, chest tightening and arousal bubbling hot in his stomach, stirring his dick to attention.
"you're that impatient?" he questions, his voice startling wooyoung to open his eyes, legs writhing as he struggles to get his fingers at the right angle.
"well, you were taking your sweet time."
wooyoung breathes, eyes locking on san's, so dark they look black in this light.
cocking his head, san decides to try something, to see just how similar wooyoung is in bed to how he is in real life.
walking slowly to the bed, he climbs back over him, positioning his body between wooyoung's legs, but not touching.
"did you actually know the stove was off this whole time?" he asks critically, removing wooyoung's hands from what they were doing and pinning them by his sides.
"and you just wanted me to walk in and see you fingering yourself?"
"no," wooyoung insists, tugging his wrists in san's grip, but he holds fast. "i really thought-"
"and you still couldn't wait for me?" san cuts him off, tightening his grip. "that's not very polite, young-ah. maybe i should just let you do it yourself."
wooyoung shakes his head vigorously, legs spreading apart automatically. "no, please, i want you to-"
"do you deserve it?" san interrupts, watching for wooyoung's reaction. "you haven't been very good."
tongue darting out to wet his lips, wooyoung's showing no sign of not enjoying being treated like this.
"i'm sorry." he whines, hips bucking up in search of contact. "'m sorry. please- please touch me, i won't do it again-"
maybe some other time san will push him further, right to the edge, but tonight, he's just as desperate, heart too full of love and desire to prolong this any further.
he needs to be inside wooyoung, stat.
releasing his hands, san edges downward, kissing wooyoung's stomach and the tip of his cock.
he delivers kitten licks, lapping around the throbbing head and keeping his hands on wooyoung's thighs.
wooyoung sighs in relief, entire body relaxing under san's touch, his tongue.
turning his attention to the real object of his mission, san goes lower, pushing wooyoung's thighs upward to expose his hole, which is perfectly pink, puckering around the cool air.
he circles it with his tongue, gathering saliva in his mouth before poking his tongue inside.
"fuck," wooyoung whimpers, thighs tensing as san pushes them up further, fucking his tight hole rhythmically with his tongue, feeling the walls loosen in response to the intrusion.
"that's so fucking good, san."
encouraged, san adds one finger, the digit reaching further inside than his tongue can, where its even hotter and tighter, wet velvet walls meeting the tip as he crooks his finger.
"another," wooyoung chokes out, already comfortably stretched to accommodate him.
withdrawing his head, san opts for two fingers, watching wooyoung's face as he pushes in right down to the knuckle.
"ah," he moans, thighs tensing and dick twitching as san grazes his prostate, breath hitching in his throat. "there."
aiming at that spot, san crooks his fingers, pumping them in and out so that wooyoung is moaning with each thrust.
nothing but wet squelches and sinful noises fill the room, incomparably heinous in a twisted way that's making san crazy.
he's definitely close to coming, so san moves up, keeping the rhythm of his fingers fucking into him going and kissing his neck.
"come," he encourages, using his other hand to hold wooyoung's chin so he can't turn his face away.
his eyes squeeze shut, eyebrows drawing together in unequaled pleasure that seems to overtake him for a few moments as he cries out, finally releasing.
his lips form the shape of san's name, hips stuttering as his cock twitches, spewing thick white trails up his stomach.
san doesn't blink, fixating on his face, helping wooyoung ride through his orgasm all the way despite the cramps beginning to ache in his fingers.
he only lets wooyoung's head fall to the side in exhaustion when every drop is spent, cock limp between his legs. and while be withdraws his fingers, he keeps wooyoung's legs bent up and apart.
unable to keep off of him, san kisses under his ear, the mole beneath his eye, brushing his sweaty bangs out of his face.
"i love you," he says, because he just feels like he needs to remind him.
at that, wooyoung turns his head to face him, opening his eyes halfway and preening at san's more gentle, tender touches.
"i'm in love with you, too." he smiles lazily, and san almost dies with the way his heart swells. "don't think i actually mentioned that bit. so, yeah."
san presses a chaste kiss to his smiling lips, just falling into him.
wooyoung grunts under him at the weight, but winds his arms around his back, enveloping san in a sweaty hug.
they stay like that for a bit, breathing each other in.
loving him in silence has been so suffocating, san realizes.
finally he can breathe, and he's drunk on air, inhaling long and deep to try keep a part of wooyoung in his chest.
it's hard to ignore his aching boner, which is so hard it hurts, and san can't help but grind against wooyoung's thigh a little, seeking friction.
sensing what he's doing, wooyoung gains a second wind, responding by flipping san on his back.
he positions himself above san's thighs, hovering while he shimmies san's sweats off his legs.
his eyes go sort of glassy when he sees the outline of san's cock, licking his lips and stroking his hip bones with his thumbs.
"fuck," he swears, taking san out of his boxers into his hand, gripping the base. "you're so hot."
"you still want to ride me?" san asks, hips jerking as wooyoung strokes him leisurely, transfixed.
"yeah," wooyoung agrees, reaching for his nightstand to withdraw a bottle of lube.
its more than half empty, and san's heart seizes in a jealous rage, suddenly beguiled with thoughts of other guys wooyoung's been with.
all this time, if he'd just had the guts to do something about his insatiable feelings-
"hey." wooyoung's voice snaps him out of it. "don't space out on me now. i was just saying how i bad i want you to fuck me."
he says it flatly, almost joking, but san's heart races, abdominal muscles tensing.
smirking, he sits up, pulling wooyoung further into his lap so his knees are digging into the bed on either side of san's hips.
gripping wooyoung's ass in his hands, he spreads the soft cheeks, massaging the flesh.
"yeah?" he goads, looking up at him with darkened eyes. "say it like you mean it."
wooyoung gulps, adam's apple bobbing on his throat. he looks down at san's cock between them, curving against san's abs with thick veins pulsating along it.
"be nice and just give it to me. you're so attentive, so caring sannie, i know you can't deny me something i want."
and he's so right, so right .
"i am, aren't i?" san considers, regarding wooyoung for a moment.
and the truth is, he'll do anything for wooyoung.
he'll hang the stars, anchor down the moon.
wooyoung's right, and san knows it.
what's more, wooyoung knows he knows it, shaking the bottle of lube before squirting out the thick liquid onto his hand.
the best thing about this, is that this won't be the only time, won't be the last time.
san can look forward to making wooyoung beg for him in the future, because this is real.
so he lets wooyoung lather him with the lube, breathing unsteady at wooyoung's hand on his cock after being mostly unattended to all night.
once he's discarded the bottle, san guides him by the hips, taking his cock in his own hand and helping wooyoung sink himself down onto it.
wooyoung whimpers, and san sees stars, no feeling comparable to wooyoung's tight walls compressing down on his cock, surrounding every inch of him.
"fuck, you're so tight," he grunts, letting wooyoung accommodate the stretch undoubtedly burning through him.
"hurts," he manages, holding onto san's shoulders tightly. "you're so fucking big, ah-"
he cuts off as san moves just a bit, own dick beginning to perk up again.
bottoming out, wooyoung's ass meets san's thighs, and he immediately drops his head, exhaling shakily.
"kiss me." he says, and san cranes his neck, pouring all his love into the kiss wooyoung's asked for.
the kiss is all teeth and tongue, heated and messy.
panting against his cheek, wooyoung raises himself up, nails digging into san's shoulders as he drops back down.
the sound of their skin slapping together is quick to fill the room as wooyoung manages to build a rhythm, fucking himself down on san's cock.
such a cacophony of depravity is also accompanied by san's unapologetically loud moans every time wooyoung sinks back down, hands gripping his hips hard enough to bruise.
droplets of sweat fall from wooyoung's forehead onto san's as he fucks down again, thighs beginning to shake.
sympathetic, san decides to help him, lifting wooyoung up by his hips so he doesn't have to raise his entire body weight by himself.
with san taking over, wooyoung slumps forward, letting san manoeuvre his increasingly limp body like a doll made just for him.
"san, san-" he repeats his name in a garbled moan, like it's the only word he remembers.
"i know, love, i know-" san pants, heat coiling in his gut, running down his spine, building up to a surefire release.
"you feel that?" he asks when wooyoung falls back down, guiding one of his hands from its grip on his shoulder to flatten over his lower stomach.
pressing wooyoung's hand, san nudges his forehead with his own, overcome with some carnal possession as wooyoung whimpers, feeling san's cock against his abdomen.
"you want it inside?" san checks, and wooyoung rolls his hips atop his pulsing cock, fully erect inside of him and a seconds away from sweet release.
"yeah, fuck, yeah, want you to fill me up-" wooyoung splutters, nodding against san's neck.
thrusting his hips up as wooyoung gathers the last of his strength to fuck down, ass hitting his thighs with harsh slaps, san spreads his cheeks, grabbing handfuls of the plush flesh.
at the same time san's hips stutter with the force of his orgasm, wooyoung bites his shoulder to muffle the cry ripped from his throat, and san sees white.
he doesn't stop until he's spent, feeling like he's astral projected.
looking down, he sees wooyoung has come, too, cockhead twitching weakly and depositing streaks of white up both their stomachs due to the proximity.
"twice." he echoes in accomplishment, letting wooyoung just collapse against him, still filled up with his load.
holding him close, neither of them are able to move for a while, and san thinks wooyoung might genuinely be falling asleep on top of him; he's so exhausted.
"woo," he exhales, patting his sweaty back gently. "let me clean you up."
he whines, only nuzzling closer.
"love, we can't stay like this."
carefully, he pushes wooyoung off his lap, pulling his now softened cock out of him.
more noises of complaint are heard, and it's nearly enough to make san hard again, the way his desperate hole clenches around nothing, trying to keep in the white liquid spilling out of him.
call it post-nut clarity, but he doesn't think wooyoung's ever looked so beautiful, legs drawing together to keep san's load inside and eyelids fluttering in attempt to keep his eyes open, lips parted slightly as he breathes unevenly.
he's like an utterly corrupted angel, all soft and perfect, now ruined and defiled by such devilish acts, only able to lie on the sheets in silence, wishing for them to swallow him as if that would hide the shame.
it's all over him in pretty red marks, flowering across his neck and chest like spring fields of poppies, in droplets of sweat that bead along his golden skin like diamonds.
dark hair fanned around the white pillows like a halo, wooyoung is san's wettest dream incarnate.
except, this is real.
when he's come back down to earth, san fetches a damp cloth, dejavu tingling his senses like faint electricity.
and when he wipes wooyoung clean, he smiles, because this time, he can kiss him as he does it.
and his smile widens, eclipses his face, because this time, wooyoung mumbles a tired "love you," and san doesn't have to overthink it, to have his heart broken over trivial words exchanged between friends.
pulling wooyoung's pants back on, followed by his own, san flops down next to him, heart beating too fast to be taken by sleep's tempting tug just yet.
"why haven't we been doing this longer?" wooyoung murmurs forlornly, curling up into san's side habitually. "i've never- it's never been like that."
"like what?"
"that good."
san traces patterns on wooyoung's bare chest, joining together blooming marks like a game of dot-to-dot.
"because we're stupid. because i never thought you could love me back. or i didnt let myself consider it, because i've never loved anyone the way i love you, and i couldnt ruin our friendship, because that's not the kind of love you can come back from. we've always been us; wooyoung and san. you're the sun, and i've always been happy to gravitate around you. but dusty planets don't get to date celestial stars. we just thrive off the life you grant us, the warmth and the light."
wooyoung tucks his chin over san's shoulder, biting him playfully. "i'm not the sun, idiot. if i was, you'd be burning up right now."
"i don't know, i do feel pretty hot..." he jokes, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.
"shut up," wooyoung kicks him, rolling over him and caging his head between his elbows.
he looks down at him seriously, eyes shining. "i love you. you're my best friend, and i've been in love with you for a long time. but because you're also my best friend, i'll tell you when you're being stupid. we're still us, and you've never been less than me. you," he jabs him in the chest. "are not a dusty planet."
san laughs, high and full. "okay."
satisfied, wooyoung nods astutely, happy to fall back down next to him. "good. now, i'm gonna sleep, and dream about all the times we could've been fucking."
he knows he's joking, but san's head starts spinning again.
"i should've told you. i should've told you on your birthday last year. i should've told you at our graduation. at the after party. i swear, i almost did, you looked so beautiful, wooyoung, and it almost just came out. i should've told you as soon you stated dating that asshole."
"san. stop." wooyoung says sleepily, laying his head on his chest and clasping his hand in his. "we're not old, or dying, and we don't live in some apocalyptic dystopia. and the stove was off, so our naked bodies are yet to be discovered all burnt up and full of regrets. we're lucky, and we have all the time in the world to make up for it."
and wooyoung's right; time is on their side.
san plans to make up for every last kiss, every romantic date night, every impassioned minute they could've had, unravelling possibilities into realities that will stretch further than those they're making up for.
and one day, san hopes they will die together, side by side, to be discovered frozen in time in some perfect moment in which wooyoung's hand is in his hand and they are as perpetually in love as they always have been, clear and unmistakable as an inerasable stroke of spilled ink on parchment.