Work Text:
***
[The Look - Metronomy]
San wet his hands again, shaking off the excess before ruffling his fingers through his hair once more. He could hear Wooyoung’s heavy footsteps approaching the bathroom, surprisingly loud enough to be heard over the music playing from his bedroom across the apartment.
“Is that seriously the way you style your hair every time?” Wooyoung leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed, clearly more interested in critique than curiosity..
“Yeah, why?” San looked at him in the mirror’s reflection through the small triangle allowed by his arms raised in the air he moved his hair haphazardly.
“Yeah, why ?” Wooyoung threw his question back at him.
San shrugged. “I’ve always done it like this. If it doesn’t turn out the first time I can just do it again.”
“And what if you keep trying and then your hair is soaked again?”
“I wait.” San lowered his arms and focused back on his own reflection, using just his index finger to move pieces left and right.
“For it to dry?”
“Yeah.”
Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “Straight men don’t make any fucking sense. Also, that shirt is too tight on your arms big boy.”
San flashed a proud and sarcastic smile at his roommate, watching as Wooyoung’s eyes left his hair and began tracing the outlines of his biceps. Living with Wooyoung for the past two years has been easy. They fell in that sweet spot between best friends and acquaintances that relieved the stress of constant proximity. It allowed them to be cordial enough to make their house feel like a home, rather than a random cell in a high tension prison yard. Chores were easily sorted between them with some decency and communication. Their final and most important stroke of luck was their social compatibility. Often opposites of each other, but complimentary nonetheless.
While San thought he was placing his finishing touches, Wooyoung had other ideas. Wooyoung reached past him to open the bathroom cabinet and unscrewed a small container, scooping out a dollop of white cream on the tips of his fingers. Expertly, Wooyoung closed the container and returned it to its spot, all while keeping the product in his hand untouched.
“Face me.” San immediately obeyed Wooyoung, standing up straight with his arms glued to his sides, as if it was a drill command. Wooyoung rubbed the product in his hands vigorously before roughing them through San’s damp hair. San closed his eyes, relishing the pleasant feeling of Wooyoung’s hands massaging his scalp. Really, he should have relaxed his posture a bit to accommodate for the few inches he had on Wooyoung. If he did, though, Wooyoung’s wouldn’t be standing on his toes with his face close enough to feel San breathing out of his nose. And he liked that proximity.
San wasn’t really touchy with anyone until he met Wooyoung. Perhaps it was his persistence of his affection, but Wooyoung’s touch felt so natural. Even touches that would be considered a bit too intimate for just friends didn’t bother San like it had with girls he was uninterested in. There was always some guessing, some rumors about whether or not San and Wooyoung were dating. That didn’t bother San either. Wooyoung was gay, San was not. Wooyoung was confident and secure in being gay, and San was confident and secure in being straight. No equation or amount of evidence could lead to the conclusion that they were an item.
A light, clean smell draped around him as the product settled in his hair. Once Wooyoung’s touch withdrew, San opened his eyes to find him still fixing small pieces here and there. Wooyoung squinted his eyes in pointed focus as he finalized his work, his brows furrowing as he chewed on the inside of his lip–a habit of his that San found himself noticing more and more often.
San glanced briefly in the mirror. “This is exactly what I just did.”
“Yeah sure. Except this time,” Wooyoung ran his fingers behind San’s ear before hitting the palm of his heel on San’s forehead, knocking his head back wryly. “It’s actually going to stay in place.”
“So I’ll be handsome all night?” San teased.
“Mhm… You’re welcome.” Wooyoung stepped back, taking a final approving look at his work. “Now get out. I need the bathroom now.”
San puckered his lips and leaned forward, jokingly showing his thanks.
“Stop being gay.” Wooyoung rolled his eyes, unable to hide the smile that grew on his lips, and turned San around once more and pushed him through the door frame. He didn’t need to see his face to know he was pouting. This was part of their normal. They joked back and forth about San being gay, each of them sometimes pushing the boundary a little; but of course, San wasn’t.
He’s sure he isn’t.
***
Neither of them got a single glimpse inside the house before Hongjoong started berating them for being “fashionably late.” Wooyoung smiled and nodded, acting overly appreciative of Hongjoong’s advice, and dragged San through the front door with him.
The two of them were greeted enthusiastically by a handful of people–most of them hugging Wooyoung, only offering San a quick glance before he kept moving–as they walked towards the kitchen. San wasn’t hurt, though. This was par for the course. Wooyoung is much more popular than him; the outgoing dancer with a loud and easily recognizable laugh, the guy who was willing to die for his friends; then there was San. His plus one. Where Wooyoung went, you could expect San, but not always the other way around.
San wouldn’t call him self shy, necessarily. Reserved was a better word to describe his comparatively mellow attitude at parties. The familiar feeling of Wooyoung wrapping his arms around his bicep at a party, taking the responsibility to introduce him to new people and tugging him along was a relief every single time. Starting conversations was the hard part, and Wooyoung alleviated that burden effortlessly
“Do you want something to drink?” Wooyoung yelled in San’s ear over the music.
San shrugged. “Just a coke or something.”
“That’s it?” He raised his eyebrow. “You’re not drinking?”
“Nah, don’t feel like it.”
“Hm.” Wooyoung flashed a cute smile. “Okay! I won’t either.”
They bickered back and forth: San insisting that Wooyoung didn’t have to not drink just because he wasn’t, Wooyoung insisting that he didn’t feel obligated and he was choosing to do so out of his own free will. However, the way they interacted the rest of the night, their ability to make sound decisions might as well have been hindered. When Wooyoung detached from San for whatever reason, to greet a classmate or prevent a half full cup from spilling over, he still periodically looked away from the person in front of him and caught San’s gaze. Hongjoong and Seonghwa were considerably drunk, urging that San stop hiding in the corner of the room and join them on the dance floor (the repurposed, empty living room).
Things became particularly intoxicating when Wooyoung joined them. Wooyoung is a good dancer. San would be stupid to deny it. He was skilled as a product of his discipline, but when there was no choreography, no mirrors, no audience, a certain seduction radiated off of him like a sickening perfume. One that San found… hard to resist. But that’s just him appreciating his roommate. Right? What was he supposed to think? That the way Wooyoung was was off-putting?
San doesn’t lie. Also, San is straight. Everything was normal.
It was even more normal when Wooyoung threw his arms around San’s neck, slotting their legs together to sway San’s hips side to side to the beat. Wooyoung was a good friend like that; San had an embarrassingly bad sense of rhythm, and Wooyoung guiding him saved him the social humiliation. He’d seen himself in the background of a few videos over, and each time he wished that the room was so much darker.
A few songs passed, and Wooyoung didn’t draw a single inch away from San. San pulled him in closer, only having to lightly tug the tips of his fingers where his hand rested on Wooyoung’s lower back, yelling in his ear that he would be right back. He looked up to Hongjoong and Seonghwa dancing just next to them, and motioned Wooyoung towards them, making sure he wouldn’t be left alone in a mass of strangers. San fought the urge to turn back as he walked away, squeezing through bodies, navigating towards a bathroom. A clear line of people leaning against a wall just across the room clued him in. He tucked both his hands in his pockets and followed suit. The music was loud still, but not loud enough to drown out his thoughts.
He was interrupted by a tall man slamming into the wall next to him.
“Hey,” The rings on each of his fingers clacked loudly on the wood as he adjusted his collision to lean on his shoulder comfortably. “Are you dating him? Are you two?”
“Huh?” San heard the question, but didn’t know who the guy was referring to.
“That guy over there,” He pointed. “Long hair. Look, he’s looking at us right now.”
Once again, San and Wooyoung’s eyes met. It was uncanny, the way they were always able to find each other’s eyes in the improbable moments. It’s like the sea of people parted perfectly for them every time. Wooyoung smiled coyly and turned around to cheer on Hongjoong, who was doing… something. Maybe you could call it break dancing, but that would still be generous.
“Ah, Wooyoung?” San shook his head. “No no, he’s just my roommate. I’m not into guys.”
“You’re not?” The man raised his eyebrows in surprise. San nodded. It doesn’t bother him, though. He’s used to denying such allegations. “Hmm. He's cute.”
“He’s single.” San said, answering what he thought was the implied question. He regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth.
The man laughed. “Hypothetically, it seems. You know, if someone looked at me like that, I’d fuck him even if I wasn’t into guys.”
The bathroom door swung open, rudely blinding San with fluorescent light. He stepped into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He stared at himself in the mirror, recounting the conversation he just had. If someone looked at me like that… I’d fuck him… San had no idea what “look” that guy was referencing. That missing information saddened him somewhat, since he could only think of one thing. If Wooyoung liked him, he didn’t want to break his heart. They had always been like this, and San has spent more than one all nighter listening to Wooyoung’s frustration over another Grindr hookup ending with the words, “Whoa dude, I’m not gay.” San would never want to make Wooyoung feel that way. To throw yourself into something vulnerable, just to realize you’ve been nothing but a, experiment the whole time. If given the opportunity, San would personally rock their shit. He splashed his cheeks with a bit of water, cooling himself off. As he watched droplets travel down his face, he remembered: his hair. It looked good still.
Hot, dense air hit San like a wall as he walked across the entryway to regroup with his friends. Traversing through people once more, he stopped in his tracks when spotted a man whispering into Wooyoung’s ear. His stomach flipped as he noticed that familiar, contagious smile spread across Wooyoung’s face and turned into a laugh. It’s a sight San is accustomed to, Wooyoung being pursued. It just wasn’t one he felt inclined to watch. Not that he knows why, but not that knowing matters all that much anyways. San pivoted, and made his way to the front porch.
He sat on the half wall enclosing the porch. A couple people sitting on a couch opposite him offered San a smoke, to which he declined. Ah, that’s where the living room furniture was. Or at least some of it. It was a bit awkward, sitting by himself, clearly estranged from those around him. He could pull his phone out and pretend to be busy, but for some reason he didn’t feel like it. He just wanted to sit and quiet his mind.
“Hey, are you okay?” San heard the voice he wished he didn’t want to hear. Wooyoung. He turned around.
“Hm?” He wouldn’t have felt so bad about stepping outside if Wooyoung’s face didn’t look so damn genuine. “Yeah, yeah. I just needed some air, it’s dense in there.”
Wooyoung laughed. “Yeah. Everyone’s been sweating in there for at least two hours now. Anyways, I think we should call it a night, but we have to walk Seonghwa and Hongjoong home. There is no way they are getting anywhere without assistance.”
San stood up. “I’ll go grab them, wait here. Do you have all your stuff?”
Wooyoung nodded and took San’s spot on the half wall.
Just as he was about to walk away, San saw Wooyoung cross his arms and rub his biceps. “Wait, are you cold?”
“No, I’m okay.” San was a bad liar, but Wooyoung was worse. Without hesitation, San pulled his fleece button up off his shoulders and threw it around Wooyoung’s back like a cape. Wooyoung didn’t protest.
“I’ll be right back.” San flashed a smile before disappearing back into the house.
With Hongjoong’s distinct rap-yelling, it wasn’t hard to find the two of them. It took some convincing and negotiation to pull them out of the house, but once the cool air hit their damp foreheads, they stopped complaining. Ready to leave, San saw an extra body loitering on the porch next to Wooyoung. It was that same guy from earlier. An uneven bleach that was not evident under the dark, coloured lights in the house now stuck out like a sore thumb under the cold fluorescent ones. Wooyoung was smiling like before, hiding part of his face behind the extra fabric of San’s shirt swallowing his hands. San glanced down to see him holding his phone in his lap. Not wanting to interrupt, he placed one hand on Hongjoon’s back, one on Seonghwa’s and pushed them forward past Wooyoung and down the front steps, figuring Wooyoung would follow on his own. San didn’t hear their parting words over the accusations of manhandling from his friends in front of him.
San and Wooyoung walked on either side of the couple, guiding them home like sheep dogs. A nearly thankless job, they parted ways easily once they arrived at their front door.
The two of them walked in silence for a while. Wooyoung slid his arm under San’s, holding onto his bicep loosely. This was their alternative to holding hands. In San’s head, that might be too overtly romantic.
San looked up at the sky. The light pollution in their college town unfortunately robbed many of the stars of their shine.
“Did you get his number?” San asked as nonchalantly as he could.
“Yeah.”
“Are you gonna text him?”
Wooyoung shrugged. “I dunno.”
“Do you like him?”
“San,” Wooyoung looked up at him with an exasperated expression without letting go of San’s arm. “I talked to him for a total of ten minutes, maybe. And that’s being generous.”
“You can still like him,” San saw the look Wooyoung was giving him out of the corner of his eye, but pretended not to notice. “Or think he’s cute.”
“I appreciate your enthusiasm for my romantic endeavors,” San wasn’t sure how to react to the sarcasm. “But if you really want an answer, I thought he was just okay. He might be good looking, but he lacked… substance.”
“Substance?”
“He didn’t ask me any questions beyond my area of study. All he said before talking about himself was, “That’s cool.”
They both laughed. It was one of the things both Wooyoung and San found especially irritating about others. Not asking follow up questions about someone’s day, or their interest, communicated a lack of curiosity and investment. They had both sat through those kinds of dates that felt more like a therapy session than two people getting to know each other. San always asked Wooyoung questions, and Wooyoung asked them back.
“He’s not wrong,” San teased, now relieved that Wooyoung wasn't really interested in blondie. It's not that he's thankful Wooyoung isn't pursuing, necessarily. San's just a bit protective of his friend. Roommate. “It is pretty cool.”
Wooyoung rolled his eyes. Their usual back and forth made the rest of their walk home go by quickly. San tried not to linger on Wooyoung’s face each time he laughed. It was like each time he saw it, he found something new to notice.
“Goodnight, San.” Wooyoung waved, fingertips peeking out just past the sleeves of San’s button up. San waved back, thinking about how cheesy it was that they did that. He didn’t ask for his jacket back, and he wondered if Wooyoung noticed he still had it on.
It was difficult to sleep. Light danced on San’s face as he scrolled on his phone, unable to focus on the images and videos playing. He was still thinking about what that guy in line for the bathroom said. Thinking about the other guy that somehow found his way to hit on Wooyoung in the two minutes San had disappeared. Both events had one thing in common: Wooyoung was charming. San knew it, in fact he felt it, but not like those guys. Not anything past the platonic.
**
[I Wanna Boi - PWR BTTM]
San sat on the couch, engrossed in the video game flashing on the screen in front of him. He jumped at the sound of the door unlocking, causing his hands to freeze up as he watched his character die. He looked over to the front door, not far from where he was sitting, and saw Wooyoung emerge, followed by an incredibly tall man that San had never seen before. Wooyoung’s charming, familiar giggle was just loud enough to be heard over the battle music of San’s video game. He was never known for being quiet anyways.
“Hi, Sannie.” Wooyoung waved before bending over to untie his shoes. Sannie. Wooyoung only used that nickname with San when he’s intoxicated. It only takes a single drink for it spill from his lips for the rest of the night. The bright red flush on his cheeks was a dead giveaway that he had had more than just one drink. San hadn’t really thought about the implications of the endearment, though. Drunk people are more touchy and sweet in general. Right?
A symptom of Wooyoung being incredibly outgoing and charming was the surplus of hookups he brought home. Each time Wooyoung stumbled through the front door with another man, giggling and still enthused to run into San sitting on the couch, San thought to himself: He could do so much better . Wooyoung’s dates weren’t horrible company, however. There was about a forty percent chance that they stayed until the morning, and San’s early rising time allowed him to meet them in the kitchen. The few times they did stay, he had some light, pleasant company. One guy even did their dishes once. San never saw him again, though.
At the same time, for some reason, it bothered San–and he couldn’t really figure out why. He didn’t mind having strangers in his house. He trusted Wooyoung’s judgment (for the most part), so it wasn’t about that. His dates never trudged mud or dirt through the house, or left their belongings strewn across the living room. So that wasn’t the problem either. Somewhere, deep down, San felt a fear that the annoyance with Wooyoung’s habits stemmed from the last remnants of learned homophobia. That the beliefs instilled in his upbringing were much harder to shake than he had originally thought. Then again, he had no issue with any of his other friends being gay around him. He found himself at the bar quietly sipping his drink while Hongjoong and Seonghwa ate each other’s faces off like there was no tomorrow more times than he could count. He also has no issue with people sleeping around. It’s all their choice, their life. So why was it so different with Wooyoung?
“Hey,” San refocused on his video game, pretending to be more preoccupied than curious about the stranger that just entered his house.
“Goodnight,” Wooyoung let out his goodbye with a sing-song intonation and walked straight through the kitchen to his bedroom, killing any potential conversation. The man followed him, unintroduced. Still, out of courtesy, he waved. Wooyoung looked over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about the volume.”
And with that, Wooyoung and his man disappeared for the rest of the night. Don’t worry about the volume . An obvious code for, Do not turn down the volume because you think we are sleeping. We are having sex and actually I would rather you turn it up so you don’t hear us, please and thank you. All the pseudo-university housing had notoriously thin walls.
San checked the clock. 11:47 PM. Wooyoung was home earlier than usual. Not that he was keeping track or anything. He decided to play a couple more rounds and call it a night.
The next two rounds, however, go poorly. Poorly enough that for the first time in months, San is considering meditation again. A familiar, irritated feeling spread in his body like an itch he couldn't reach, distracting him more and more. The movements of his fingers controlling the joysticks were struggling to translate to his avatar, and the visual feedback was not clicking. San’s reaction times slowed and became increasingly incorrect. Frustrated, San returned to the home screen of his console and sat in the living room in silence. He watched the idle animation swirl behind all the icons, lighting up different parts of the room as they migrated from one side to the other. A low hum played, interrupted by a cracking noise. His ears perk up, attempting to listen to Wooyoung’s… possible activities. Unfortunately, he hears nothing but the hum of the air conditioner. Maybe attributing the noise to Wooyoung having sex is a bit presumptuous. Still, the thought of Wooyoung just physically being in bed with someone else right now makes San restless and he doesn’t know why. It’s probably because Wooyoung didn’t introduce his date, which he seldom does. So San doesn’t know who the hell is spending the night in his apartment right now.
After some thinking, San comes to the conclusion that his bothered feelings only and mostly stem from the simple fact of Wooyoung being his roommate. Nevertheless, he felt guilty for feeling this way–for judging–Wooyoung’s lifestyle against what seemed like his own will. San headed to his bedroom, speeding up a little as he walked past Wooyoung’s room, and collapsed onto his bed face first. Is he… pouting?
***
[Constant Headache - Joyce Manor]
San had never seen Wooyoung hooking up with any of the guys he brought home. That was, until today.
Although the weather had been forecasted to be fair and sunny, gray clouds covered the sky and began pouring down just at the time San had planned to finish his reading assignment in the park. With his plans ruined, all signs pointed home. His boots splattered on the rain sodden pavement as he walked home at a brisk pace. San noticed the shades pulled down over the window of the front door, but didn’t register it as a warning of any sort. He swung open the door and stopped in his tracks. His jaw dropped open, sucking in a quick and quiet breath of shock. Perhaps only a second passed before Wooyoung and the man whose face he was devouring noticed his presence, but it was enough time for San to discern what was going on. He watched the way Wooyoung rolled his hips forward on the man’s lap, gripping his face and pulling him in closer as if their tongues were not already well acquainted with each other. He noticed how roughly the man was squeezing– gripping –the highest point on the back of Wooyoung’s thighs, as if he was deciding between lifting him up or committing to grabbing his ass. The moment before San’s presence was acknowledged was gone as soon as it came.
Wooyoung cocked his head towards San, eyes widening like a deer in headlights.
“Oh– sorry–” Wooyoung swung his leg off of the man and pivoted to sit back on the couch next to him. “I didn’t think you’d be home so early.”
“That’s fine!” A flush of embarrassment crept up San’s neck and threatened to show on his cheeks. Suddenly, he felt sick. He needed fresh air. “Sorry! Just let me know when.”
“When? When what?” Before San could register that Wooyoung was even asking him a question, he had turned on his heels and promptly walked back out the door, locking it with muscle memory alone.
That’s when he remembered. Wooyoung pulls down the blinds when he has some guy over, day or night. Wooyoung didn’t like the idea of people taking an opportunity to sneak a peek, and the floor to ceiling windows that made up an entire wall of their living room made that opportunity much more feasible than most homes. San cursed under his breath. Even though he had just been outside, the air had a renewed, distinct crisp again. A sickening guilt racked his body as he wandered around his block, trying some place to sit down and clear his head. His thoughts raced. He must be homophobic piece of shit, or else he wouldn’t feel so fucking bad after seeing Wooyoung make out with someone else. Some guy.
San’s phone vibrated in his pocket.
Wooyoung
you can come home, btw
he left
sorry about that
He read the messages a couple times over. Sighing, he slipped his phone back in his pocket leaving Wooyoung’s texts unanswered. San sat, he doesn’t know how long, slumped in the booth of the library.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
San’s attempt to enter the apartment as quietly as he could was to no avail. The door inched open, revealing Wooyoung sitting on the couch and typing on his phone in almost the exact same spot he was before San had hurriedly exited earlier.
“Hey.” Wooyoung put his phone face down next to him and looked up at San.
“Hi.” It was awkward. Tense. The clacking of San kicking off his shoes had never sounded louder.
“Can we talk?”
“About what?” San responded stupidly, avoiding eye contact.
Wooyoung tilted his head, giving San a wry look. “About earlier.”
“Oh.” If it wasn’t evident before, San’s ability to hide his feelings in the moment were horrendous.
“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d be coming home early. I’m… sort of embarrassed by the whole thing, but I just want to apologize if I made you uncomfortable.”
San shrugged, and continued into the house. He should say something about how Wooyoung shouldn’t be embarrassed, something about how that kind of thing happens to everyone and San couldn’t care less. He should reassure Wooyoung that his sexuality is nothing to be ashamed of, as he has done so many times before– but he doesn’t say anything as he hangs his jacket on the coat rack.
“If it makes you feel better, I’ve never actually done anything on the couch. He left right after too.”
“Okay.” San doesn’t know what consolation Wooyoung’s statement was supposed to offer him. If anything, he should console Wooyoung right now and playfully apologize for ruining his hook up. All he wants right now is to retire to his room.
“Are you okay?” Wooyoung stood up, following San.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Why wouldn’t he be?
“Are you sure?” The genuine concern in Woooyoung’s voice stung, holding San back like a white hot chain.
“Yeah,” San finally looked at Wooyoung. He shouldn’t have. It made lying–or whatever he was doing–so much harder. “I was studying in the library, I’m just tired. Physics fried me. Don’t worry about it.”
Wooyoung nodded and quietly wished San goodnight before disappearing into his own room. By now, the defeated, face-down flop San did on his bed was a normal occurrence after interactions with Wooyoung. The increasing frustration overtaking San more frequently did nothing to quell his fear of having deep rooted-homophobic tendencies.
***
San and Wooyoung mostly acted as if they had forgotten the incident over the next few weeks. They remained fairly cordial, but San kept an arm’s length between them, physically and emotionally. He was embarrassed about his reaction, and even more scared at the fact that he couldn’t seem to hide it. If he put himself in such a vulnerable position again, so close to Wooyoung, he might snap and lose not only his roommate, but one of his closest friends.
Just as things were beginning to settle, another guy–one San hadn’t seen before–walked out of Wooyoung’s bedroom and through the kitchen, holding an empty glass. Wooyoung had been previously making a point to keep his hookups out of the house, registering that it was somewhat of a sore spot for the time being. It seemed like that time being was over, and things were returning to normal.
“Hey, sorry.” He raised his hand and bowed his head awkwardly at San. “Just passing through.”
San nodded his head slightly, but didn’t respond beyond that. He averted his gaze back to the covered cup of ramen steaming on the counter in front of him.
“I’m Jae. Nice to meet you.” He extended a polite hand.
San kept his arms crossed. “San.”
“How long have you and Wooyoung been living together? This is a pretty nice place, you guys scored.”
“Two years.”
“How did you guys meet?”
“Friends.” San wished, with the utmost disrespect, that Jae would stop trying to be friendly. The familiar frustration that he tried so hard to keep at bay began to stir in his head.
“Ah,” The man nodded slowly. “That’s cool.”
Again, San didn’t respond. He continued filling the silence. Clearly, he was not just passing through . “You’re a good looking guy, you know. Honestly, I thought you guys were dating the first time I saw you guys at Yeonjun’s.”
Wooyoung emerged from his bedroom quietly, turning the corner just as San snapped.
“I’m not fucking gay .” He spat.
“Whoa…” The man slowly straightened and backed away, as if San had threatened him.
“What the fuck is going on?” Wooyoung stepped into the kitchen, eyes darting back and forth between his date and San. The man stumbled over his words, mumbling something before Wooyoung escorted him out the door apologizing profusely.
Wooyoung stormed back into the kitchen, where San remained still, watching the steam from his ramen soften. “Why are you being such a dick right now?”
San didn’t know what to say. Truthfully, he had no idea why he snapped at the guy.
“Do you have a problem with me bringing people home? I can always stay at someone else’s–”
“No, it’s fine. That’s fine.” San saw no point in whatever conversation was about to ensue. Nothing Wooyoung could say, ask, or do, would make anything clearer.
“Then what’s the problem?” Wooyoung paused, giving San a chance to answer. When he didn’t, he continued. “Do you have a problem with me sleeping with other guys?”
San paused. He tilted his head up to meet Wooyoung’s piercing stare. “No.”
For a reason unknown to San, more frustration twisted onto Wooyoung’s face.
“You have brought girls home before,” He rolled his eyes. “And I was forced to sit there and watch you be all lovey-dovey. So if you really have a problem, speak up.”
Wooyoung shoved past San, clipping his shoulder. He heard Wooyoung rummaging through his room aggressively. A few minutes later, he emerged with a bag slung over his shoulder. It’s too late for Wooyoung to have classes, and he hasn’t been to the gym in months. Is he… leaving?
“Wooyoung,” San reached out and grabbed the edge of Wooyoung’s sleeve, stopping him. Something about the way Wooyoung walked past him felt devastating, final, like it might be the only chance San would have to clear his name. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m just having a bad day. I don’t care who you sleep with, or when, or where.”
“Whatever. It’s always a bad day with you.” Wooyoung angrily walked towards the door and slipped on a jacket, hiding the hot tears that began to pool in his eyes. “I’m going to Yeonjun’s.”
“Fine.”
He turned around and snapped at San. “And you’ll be okay if I sleep with him , right? As long as it's his place and not ours?”
“What you do at other people’s places is not my business.” San said through gritted teeth.
“Yeah.” Wooyoung stepped outside. “Nothing is ever your business.”
***
Wooyoung had left early that evening, just before the sun set. San was supposed to meet up with Mingi and Yunho at the bar around 10:00 PM. Wooyoung was supposed to be there too, but there was no sign of him anywhere.
San sat on the couch, staring at the digital clock flickering on the microwave. 9:36 PM. He tapped his phone, waking the screen. No word from Wooyoung. It only takes about ten minutes to walk to the bar, so they have time, San supposed. He threw his head back, replaying their argument in his head. What you do at other people’s places is not my business . Even though it was true, it was the single thing he really regretted saying. He couldn’t make sense of Wooyoung’s last words either. Nothing is your business . Why did Wooyoung get so angry? Was this new guy supposed to be something serious? A prospective boyfriend that San just blew his chances with?
9:48 PM. His phone vibrated. He shot up straight, clutching his phone with both hands.
Mingi
we will be like ten min late
sorry lol
Still, nothing from Wooyoung. Wooyoung had never blown off San like this in all three years they’ve known each other. Sure he’s had to have a rain check or two, but he always texted ahead of time. Not tonight, though. San sighed and pushed himself off the couch. He walks with both his hands in his pockets all the way to the bar. Stepping through the doors and into the loud, thick atmosphere of the packed bar was not enough to shake the heavy feeling weighing on his shoulders.
***
San doesn’t make any big, rash decisions without consulting his friends first. Usually, that friend is Wooyoung, since they spend the most time together and he knows all of San’s idiosyncrasies not even he himself notices. That’s what landed him in this cafe, sitting nervously in front of Honjoong and Seonghwa like he was at a confessional.
“I think…” San pursed his lips, hesitating. “I need to move out.”
“ What ?” Seonghwa and Hongjoong let out the same dumbfounded sound at San’s statement. Seonghwa was the only one who continued. “Why? You guys get along really well, anyone can see that.”
“Is he messy?” Hongjoong began to interrogate San. “Does he not take out the trash? Finish his laundry?”
Seonghwa gasped as he asked his most devastating question. “Did you fight?”
“No, no.” San shook his head, fully aware he was lying. Instead, he tried recalling Wooyoung’s habits. Really, he was pretty solid. They split chores pretty evenly, even when they weren’t necessarily theirs . Anytime Wooyoung cooked for the both of them, San did all the dishes. If Wooyoung took the trash out of the apartment, San replaced the bags in the bins. No reason to fight. “He’s a good roommate.”
“Then what is it?” Hongjoong seemed almost frustrated with San.
“It’s… just… he brings a lot of guys home.” San avoided eye contact as Seonghwa and Hongjoong burst out in laughter.
“Is he really that loud?” Seonghwa asked through his hand covering his mouth, attempting to stifle his laugh.
“What?” San furrowed his eyebrows.
“I mean, word spreads kind of fast since the dating pool isn’t exactly that large,” Hongjoong sipped his coffee. “But people have said he’s quite… vocal in bed. Or, in the bathroom, at a house show.”
“Oh.” San feels a butterfly-ish feeling stir in his stomach. He’s curious now, to know how Wooyoung sounds in bed. But, everyone would be curious after it was brought up, right? Anyone would have a fleeting imagination about anyone else if they heard that. “No, that’s not why. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him, to be honest.”
“Then…?” Hongjoong gestured inquisitively with his hands.
“It’s just a lot, I guess.”
“A lot… because?” San could tell that they were still miles away from being on the same page as him. As embarrassing and vulnerable as it was, San explained his dilemma.
“I walked in on him one time. Not in his bedroom, or anything, he was just, like… making out with some guy on the couch.”
“What, did they keep going?” Seonghwa asked. San’s various explanations and answers didn’t seem satisfactory, as if they were both still anticipating his point.
“No, no,” San licked his lips, stressed at the details he remembered briefly flashing over his mind. “It was awkward so I just left.”
Hongjoong and Seonghwa stayed silent, still waiting. For what exactly, San has no idea.
“And I took a walk, sat in the library for a while, and went back home just before it got dark. But.. I felt… sick. I felt sort of nauseous when I left and I don’t know why I am so… disgusted with him being with other guys.” San repeated Wooyoung’s words verbatim.
“ Other guys? ” Hongjoong looked devastated, as if it was the funniest thing San had ever said. He choked back his laughter.
“Oh…” Seonghwa said gravely, before San could interject. “Oh no…”
“What?” San braced himself, waiting for all his worst fears to come true. Seonghwa and Hongjoong were going to drop him because he’s a homophobe. Who the hell would want to be friends with someone who, on the inside, hated such a big part of your identity anyways? Or felt disgusted whenever you felt love? San knows how much it means to be gay and out to not only Hongjoong and Seonghwa, but to Wooyoung too. Maybe he deserved the scolding, but it would hurt nonetheless. He didn’t want to be an asshole. He didn’t want to be awful. He was so sure he wasn’t. Even though he was from a rural area, he thought he had done enough work to shed the conservative beliefs he realized were so damaging. If this is who he was, he would have to move out. Leave. He couldn’t bear to even think about hurting Wooyoung like that.
Seonghwa slowly reached out his hand and placed it gently on the table in front of San.
“San-ah,” He looked San dead in the eyes. “You are not a homophobe. You are jealous .”
Jealous? Jealous?
“What?” His question was more stern than surprised, laced with hints of disbelief. San is sure he knows what jealousy feels like. This cannot be jealousy.
“It’s not uncommon,” Seonghwa continued. Hongjoong just smiled knowingly, shaking his head every so often and he reached to sip his drink. “That people confuse their obsession or desire for someone as frustration or anger. You might think that you are uncomfortable with Wooyoung bringing home his hookups because he’s gay or something, but really, you’re just afraid of admitting that you wish it was you .”
“It’s because if you did admit it, it would be admitting you actually want Wooyoung and clearly that is scary for you in more ways than one.” Hongjoong finished Seonghwa’s explanation. He held up one finger at a time as ran down a list of possible cons. “Risky, even. You’d have to navigate coming out… come to terms with it yourself… potentially find a new place and move out if things don’t go well…”
Seonghwa elbowed him before he could sow any more fears in San, shooting him a piercing look.
“Look,” Seonghwa looked back at San endearingly. “Just consider it. You don’t need to know right now, or tomorrow, or next week. If it’s really not the answer, then we will keep talking. But it may be more likely than you think, San.”
San looked down at his now lukewarm coffee. The foam had mostly dissolved back into the drink, only a thin white lining around the rim of the cup remaining. Words from Hongjoong and Seonghwa danced around his head, none landing.
He couldn’t remember what they talked about after that.
***
San mulled over the conversation with Seonghwa and Hongjoong over the next week. Did he really have a crush on Wooyoung, but didn’t have the facilities to register it as such? It can’t be. San has indeed thought about whether or not he was gay–even entertained the thought a little, after realizing most of his friends were queer to some capacity–but he never felt like his feelings were quite strong enough to warrant the label. That is, apparently, until now. Until Wooyoung.
Exhausted from his back to back lectures, San stumbled through his front door hastily. Thankfully, his third one was canceled, giving him some time to relax before getting started on his other work. He wanted nothing more than to collapse into his unmade sheets and wake up without knowing what year it was. He kicked off his shoes lazily, setting down his backpack on the couch. The living room felt brighter than usual. The sun’s light harshly dispersed in the cloud layer, washing the vibrancy out of the air making everything seem overexposed. San grabbed water, downing one entire glass in one go before refilling it.
As he moseyed to his bedroom, he heard a faint, unfamiliar sound. He knew Wooyoung was home, but if he wasn’t out in the living room, he was sleeping. Extroverts are like that, especially ones like Wooyoung. Is he okay? San thought. He froze, honing in on what could only be… a moan. Coming from Wooyoung’s bedroom. He recounted his surroundings from the moment he walked in, trying to make sense of the situation. He didn’t see any unfamiliar pairs of shoes by the door, and the guest slippers were still in their designated cubby–meaning it was just the two of them in the apartment. Wooyoung doesn’t have anyone over. Wooyoung was alone. Wooyoung also didn’t know San’s third class was canceled.
Another sound, breathier and whinier, hit San like a truck. Goosebumps spread all over his body. San knew he should keep walking and forget he ever heard anything. Yet his feet were glued to the hardwood floor below him. He doesn’t notice his knuckles turning white as he grips his glass in rigid silence. He turned his head in the direction of Wooyoung’s room slightly, receiving more and more frequent moans. They became deeper, louder. San knows what Wooyoung is chasing. Images flash through San’s head, as if he were a fly on the wall. They soon turn into more intense, imaginative scenarios. Things that are far too removed from the present moment. San pictures what it’d be like to hear Wooyoung with more clarity, what he would look while his hand was in between his–
A moan louder than any of the previous ones echoes from the door, jolting San. He takes that as his signal to leave. To avoid being caught intently listening to his roommate jack off. San scurries to his room quietly and urgently.
San laid face up on his bed. He didn’t notice how truly boring the plain white ceiling above him was, or that the poster on his wall was illuminated on the side that only ever saw sun in the spring. His surroundings were simultaneously engulfing and estranging him. He floated between being grounded in his plush duvet and being swept up by his racing thoughts.
Rapidly approaching footsteps abruptly pull San back down to earth–Wooyoung’s footsteps. He held his breath, anticipating a courteous knock at his door followed by the most collected performance of a lie in his life. The gushing of the bathroom sink switching on broke the tension, and his chest fell. Wooyoung moaning… then washing his hands–or, washing something… San’s cheeks felt hot again. He covered his face with both hands for a few seconds, debating whether stopping outside his roommate's door to listen to him masterbate was a natural curiosity anyone would experience, or… something else was going on.
Once again, the sound of footsteps passed by his door and faded down the hallway. San sat up. He decided he would kill his curiosity around why he stopped outside Wooyoung’s door. And why he leaned in instead of staying still. Whatever the revelation was, it would probably be useless anyways. San isn’t actually gay, and Wooyoung is out of his league.
Throwing his legs over the edge of the mattress, San stood up and began changing into more comfortable clothes, shedding a small but meaningful part of the long day he had already endured. He exchanged his shirt and button up for a loose, gray hoodie. His hands fumbled with the buckle of his belt while he surveyed his closet for a pair of clean sweats. With his buckle released, button undone and fly down, his jeans promptly fell down to his ankles. As he looked down to lazily step out of them, he was confronted by his boxers tenting below him.
He returned to his question: stopping outside his roommates door… a universal inclination or his alone?
Judging by his hard-on, it might be the latter.
***
[Tonight You Are Mine - The Technicolors]
San definitely–undeniably–has a crush on Wooyoung. Try as he might, it was hard to refute that he might have feelings for Wooyoung after the second time he touched himself to his own fantasies… featuring Wooyoung. The realization made navigating his own apartment excruciating. Suddenly, everytime he heard the door unlock, the hair on the back of his neck stood up in anxious attention. He now found it difficult to make eye contact with Wooyoung, even when they were talking about classes from opposite ends of the couch. Their shared dinners and movie nights also become more infrequent, down time that San struggles to replace with another activity that isn’t just thinking about Wooyoung. San doesn’t go out to the bars with Wooyoung as often either, using class work as an uncreative excuse to stay in and leave the empty promise of “next time.”
But Wooyoung isn’t stupid. He caught on to the changes in San’s behavior fast. In fear that it was because he was slacking as a roommate, he began picking up more chores around the house. San felt guilty that he only did dishes once or twice a week, and came home to Wooyoung vacuuming every third day. When that didn’t work, he tried asking San if anything was going on, only to be met with a clueless, “What do you mean?” Whatever was going on, it became painfully clear that San didn’t want Wooyoung involved, and he wasn’t going to push his luck.
Final exams crept up on both of them. The apartment was quieter, now that neither of them had much time to have friends (or hookups) over. It was somewhat of a relief to San. Since the going out dwindled, he didn’t have to turn down Wooyoung as much. Unfortunately you can’t have your cake and eat it too. The both of them spent more time at home, taking study breaks and eating most meals at home. The stress was getting to Wooyoung, and normally warm interactions with San became short and at times, snappy. It didn’t help that their friendship was already strained from San pulling away for what seemed to Wooyoung, for no reason.
Exams came and went, but unsatisfyingly so. The same tension that remained between San and Wooyoung flattened the relief that usually comes after completing final projects. It was Friday, the start of the first fully free weekend they both have had in weeks–and San found himself laying in bed, scrolling mindlessly on his phone.
San knew Wooyoung was home too. He stayed holed up in his room to avoid unnecessary interactions, but now he was bored . The idea of biting the bullet and hanging out in the living room bounced around in his head for a while. Things weren’t really bad between him and Wooyoung, per se. In fact, there wasn’t really anything between them to be bad. In half a semester, they had become strangers.
Fuck it. San took one deep breath before opening his door and making his way to the living room. If Wooyoung wasn’t out there, maybe he’d play some video games. If Wooyoung was there, well… he’ll play it by ear.
Before he made it to the end of the hallway he heard rustling in the kitchen, affirming that Wooyoung was in fact hanging out in the living room. Or, the kitchen at least. He turned the corner to see Wooyoung leaning on the counter, facing away from him. The tinkling of ice ricocheting in the bowls of their special, thin cocktail glasses traveled over his shoulder.
“Are you drinking?” San looked over Wooyoung’s shoulder to see a small bottle of vodka, lemon juice and simple syrup.
“Yeah, I’m just having one drink.” Wooyoung replied without turning around. “It’s been a stressful week. Am I not allowed to or something?”
There it was. San identified two things in Wooyoung’s voice. Firstly, this was not Wooyoung’s first drink. Second, the sting from his passive aggressive question was immediate. San knew Wooyoung had at least one nebulous valid reason to be upset with him. It would be stupid to think that Wooyoung didn’t pick up on his avoidance over the past couple of weeks. Nonetheless, the coldness hurt.
“No,” San mustered every ounce of courage in his body in an attempt to repair the initial interaction with Wooyoung. The rope in their tug of war only knew a single length. When Wooyoung pulled back, he drew San in. When San retreated, Wooyoung followed. “Can I… join you?”
San watched Wooyoung’s body tense up. A few seconds passed, as if Wooyoung was thoroughly thinking through San’s offer, supposedly torn on an answer.
“Yeah, of course.” He turned around with a fake smile plastered on his face with the mixed drink extended out to San. “That one’s a double, though, so be careful cowboy.”
They both knew San was the world’s lightest lightweight. One drink made him woozy, two made him confess he kept a diary. San returned a small smile and took the drink in his hand. Truthfully, he could not have anticipated having a drink with Wooyoung, and on a normal night he would have declined. But something felt different. The air felt light, but daunting. The ball was already rolling. As nervous as he was, San couldn’t bring himself to jump ship.
“Do you want to watch something?” San had absolutely no idea where the courage to talk to Wooyoung, let alone ask for his company, was coming from. Maybe it was the only way San really knew how to be with him. “You know, to… relax. Like you said.”
“Sure.” There was still a hint of antagonism in Wooyoung’s voice, like he was clued in on the fact that they were both playing some kind of game.
San walked past him, making him comfortable on one far end of the living room. Their apartment was small, with space for only one tiny couch and a single, weirdly angled loveseat in front of the TV. Sitting in the loveseat instead of the couch would solidify the fact that they were nowhere near the tail end of their ongoing conflict. He watched as Wooyoung replicated the drink for himself and headed towards him. Thankfully, he sat on the couch. Unfortunately, San has never seen Wooyoung so intently pressed up against the armrest on the opposite end of the couch.
Wooyoung reached out for the remote on the coffee table silently, scrolling through options and looking over at San every time he paused over a choice. Each time, San shrugged. Eventually Wooyoung settled on a drama they had previously been watching together, but never finished. They shared some laughs between sips of their drinks, watching the show as if no time had passed since the last time they sat together like this. Upon a refill for both of them, Wooyoung sat closer to San. The next time, water refills. Closer. By the time San began feeling the effects of two and a half drinks and four episodes of a romantic drama, their knees were sharing static touches over and over again. Usually it wouldn’t stand out to him, but ever since his repressed revelation, he saw everything about Wooyoung through a new lens. The couple in the drama were getting back together after an angst filled break up, subliminally putting the spotlight on San and Wooyoung’s… situation. The episode ended abruptly, before the couples’ lips met, signaling the end of the season. The both of them groaned at the cliffhanger in unison. San fought the urge to fold over into Wooyoung’s lap dramatically. He used to be able to do so with ease, but the action held a different weight now.
San reached in his pocket and checked his phone. 12:03 AM. It’s late, but not for Wooyoung.
“Are you not going out tonight?” San turned to his roommate, who was mindlessly watching the credits roll. Acutely noticing them sitting next to each other, almost touching, flooded San with butterflies. He could feel himself wanting, on the brink of losing his grip on any semblance of control. Arousal tingled on his skin, yet he quickly convinced himself that it was only because he had had two drinks– not because Wooyoung looked so beautiful with his face softly illuminated by the TV, and not because he noticed the shiny saliva after Wooyoung licked his lips. Alcohol makes people horny, right? San decided he would probably just have to have another frustrated masturbation session before bed.
“Mmm, no.” Wooyoung threw his head back with his glass as he finished the last drops of his drink. San watched Wooyoung’s throat bob as he swallowed. All that was left were two measly ice cubes, melting rapidly from the warmth of his hand on his glass. “My date canceled on me.”
“Oh.” San didn’t know what to say. He thought back to the lanky man who stayed the night last week, unsure if that was the guy who canceled on Wooyoung. Honestly, though, he doesn’t really want to know. “Sorry about that.”
Wooyoung only shrugged in response. He didn’t seem too bothered. The frustrated tension that was present between them at the beginning of the night was back, weighing over them like a ton of bricks.
“I’m going to… head to bed.” San grunted awkwardly as he lifted himself off the couch, eager to escape the tension one last time. Wooyoung, however, was not going to let him get away with it this time. He rose to his feet and followed San into the kitchen, haphazardly throwing his glass in the sink before he laid his hand on one of San’s shoulders. The pull was demanding, and San was nothing but submissive to Wooyoung’s requests.
“Are you still upset with me or something?” He looked San straight in the eyes once they were face to face again. Breathing slowly through his nose, he stared back, unwavering. The two drinks emboldened San.
Wooyoung’s expression was laden with every emotion under the sun. He looked hurt, worried, confused, angry–yet relieved, happy that they were finally saying more than four words to each other. San bit his bottom lip. He had two options: pour his guts out onto the floor between them and risk never being able to put them back, or bite back the suffering that was already driving him insane one more time. Everything inside him was messy, grotesque, an entanglement of thoughts and feelings not even he himself could begin to sort through. If San dared to say a single word, he knew that the rest of the truth would come spilling out uncontrollably. It was already difficult resisting the temptation to throw all caution to the wind, and it would be exponentially harder to stop if he started.
All he could do was shake his head. His answer did not suffice. Wooyoung knew something was up, and San still wasn’t telling him.
“Hello?” Wooyoung tried again.
His cologne radiated off him with the heat of his body, inviting San in like a warm fire in a raging storm he had been trudging through for weeks. He attempted to turn around and seek the refuge of his bedroom again. Wooyoung grabbed his bicep, stopping him and stepping in closer. His eyes bounced between each feature on San’s face, faster than before, still desperately searching for an answer.
“Will you fucking say something?” Wooyoung’s chest rose and fell visibly in one fluid movement, as he sighed in frustration. San buried his face in his hands briefly, wiping down his face in defeat. Even if Wooyoung’s insistence had suddenly changed his mind, the confession caught in his throat.
“Wooyoung…” San’s heart began to beat rapidly.
“What?” Wooyoung removed his hand from San’s arm. The absence felt like a fresh burn.
“It’s just…”
“ What? ” Wooyoung began completing his sentences. “Did I do something? It is about chores? Our bills? Did someone say something to you? Is it about someone I brought home?”
San tried his best to hide a wince at his last guess, the only half truth amongst his barrage. His mind raced and dissected Wooyoung’s guesses. Did someone say something to you? Was there something to be said to San? Is he the one who is missing a piece of the puzzle that everyone else is privy to?
“No, no.” San looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. The tension in the air was palpable, putting him into something like a fight or flight. He wanted to fight, to act, and so did Wooyoung.
“You have been avoiding me more and more ever since we fought, and I have no clue what the big deal is.” Wooyoung began to ramble. The words morphed together and became incoherent the longer he went on.
Ignoring his verbose accusations, San slowly stepped forward, holding his breath as his gaze properly explored Wooyoung’s face. The emotion in his face was endearing. Even though it was anger, frustration aimed at San, it showed a deep investment in whatever words were spilling from his mouth. It had been months since he’d been able to look at Wooyoung this closely, but every feature felt instantly familiar, as if no time had passed since the first time San tried to rip his stare away. The anger on Wooyoung’s face turned into confusion as he noticed San moving closer, then morphed into surprise when he realized San was no longer looking at his eyes, but his mouth. He returned the favor, flicking his eyes down.
San had made it clear–not aggressively or imposingly–that he wasn’t gay. Every joke from Seonghwa or Hongjoong about finding San a boyfriend rolled off his back when he shrugged it off with an apology for being the token straight in his friend group. Or so it seemed.
Before he knew it, San was fervently pressing his lips on Wooyoung’s mouth, tasting the remnants of sweet lemon on his tongue, leading with enough force to drive him backwards until Wooyoung was caught between San and the kitchen counter. Any qualms were tossed aside by the urgency of San’s kiss, which Wooyoung melted into naturally. They maintained the fast rhythm of their kisses until they emptied all the air from their lungs.
Wooyoung held San’s face in his hands, keeping him from pulling away, and pressed their foreheads together. The silence made San sick. What is he thinking? Is he going to yell at me? Did I just fuck everything up?
“ Are you fucking kidding me? ” To San’s surprise, Wooyoung exhaled with comic disbelief. He pulled San in again, their lips meeting in a brief but overwhelmingly emotional kiss. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to do that?”
“You knew?” San instinctively pulled away to look Wooyoung in the eyes. Wooyoung shot him the most devious, knowing smile.
“No,” Wooyoung pulled San’s face to meet his again. “But I had my hopes. And I know now.”
“You–” San was cut off with another kiss.
San’s hands dragged down Wooyoung’s shoulders on each side of his torso, obsessively outlining his frame as if it would cease to exist if he let go.
“I think…” San’s eyes remained shut. “I think I like you.”
Wooyoung rolled his eyes and smiled. “Yeah? You think?”
“Is that why you have this?” Wooyoung whispered on San’s lips. Fuck. San’s body jolted as he felt Wooyoung slithered his hand between their hips, palming at an already growing bulge in his pants.
A hot rush of embarrassment creeped up San’s neck and tingled all over his face. What the hell was he doing? He stepped back, as if he was somehow accidentally inconveniencing Wooyoung, but was stopped by a firm grab on his waist.
“We can talk about it tomorrow,” Wooyoung reassured him. “If… you…”
San nodded rapidly, leaning back in to reconnect their lips. He will parse out the details of if he is really gay later. For now, all he wants, all he can think about, is Wooyoung.
They crashed into every corner of the kitchen, kissing like there was no tomorrow. Wooyoung kissed San harder, moaning as he hiked up one of his legs to wrap around the back of San’s leg. Instinctively, San slid his hands down over Wooyoung’s ass and scooped him up, carrying him to Wooyoung’s bedroom. Without interruption, Wooyoung reached behind him and turned the handle as San kicked the door in. Impeccable teamwork.
San could have stayed like this for hours, holding Wooyoung’s waist as he straddled him. Making out with him was already so much more than he could have ever asked for.
“Tell me how you want to fuck me,” Wooyoung interrupted San’s calm lull, cupping his face with both hands. As much as he wanted to reply, San was at a loss for words. How does one say, every single way I know and don’t know. “Oh come on, you’re saying you just kissed me out of nowhere after weeks of avoiding me, and you haven’t thought about fucking me?”
The smile that grew on San’s face mirrored Wooyoung’s. He thought about the noises Wooyoung made that one day San came home from classes, bringing back the images he had conjured of Wooyoung touching himself– fucking himself– in his bed. Wooyoung waited for a response in San’s lap while he recounted his memories, still holding his face. The silence began to stretch a little too long.
“What, you’re not into dirty talk?” Wooyoung asked, reminding San that he was indeed waiting for a response.
“No, no I–” San shook himself out of his head. “I do. I’m just…”
“Just?”
It took every ounce of courage for San to open his mouth. The combination of high arousal, two drinks and first time nerves rendered his brain to mush. “I’ve never…”
“Never fucked a guy?” Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “Yeah, duh.”
“No I mean I’ve never… fucked. I guess.”
“ Never? ” Wooyoung acted as if he just saw pigs fly. Every time they went out to a party together, there were at least two people asking about the buff, cat-faced loser standing in the corner alone sipping his drink. San had people willing to kiss his feet regularly.
“Not really.”
“Not really? What does that mean?” Wooyoung isn’t stupid. He’d seen San disappear into a bathroom with a girl more than once.
“I’ve gotten a handjob before.” San leaned back on his hands and looked up at the ceiling, as if sifting through all of his sexual experiences in his head.
“Can I blow you?” The eagerness of Wooyoung’s question almost knocked the wind out of San.
He nodded, and Wooyoung gave him one last, long kiss before shifting off of the bed and onto the floor.
“God,” Wooyoung gasped, staring at the now painfully obvious tent in San’s sweats. “You're so fucking hard.”
San only let out a small whimper of embarrassment as Wooyoung ran the tips of his fingers over his bulge, their skin only separated by thin layers of fabric. Plus, it’s true. San has never felt this amount of urgency in his arousal. He wanted to be touched, specifically by Wooyoung, more than he needed to breathe. Sensing his shyness, Wooyoung stretched up and kissed him again, this time softly with care, unsuccessfully distracting San from his hands wandering around his waist, coaxing off his pants. San obeyed without command, lifting himself and Wooyoung up for a brief second as he tore them down his thighs.
Blood pulsed harder through San’s cock at the slightest sensation. Wooyoung took his time placing kisses down San’s neck as he made his way back down.
“Shirt.” Wooyoung pulled back. “Off.”
San tore off his shirt without hesitation, earning him a smile of satisfaction from Wooyoung. Going down again, he stopped briefly over one of his nipples, looking up at San and flicking his tongue over the bud to catch his reaction. San’s torso snapped away from Wooyoung’s mouth. He gasped, surprised and instantly overwhelmed by the sensation. Wooyoung only smirked as he pulled San back in with the light press of his fingertips on his back. San watched with heavily lidded eyes as Wooyoung slid further down between his legs, onto his knees. He leaned back on his arms and scooted forward, spreading his legs apart further to accommodate Wooyoung below him. He fidgeted, trying to see what position was most accessible for Wooyoung.
“Just relax.” Wooyoung looked up at San, reassuring him that he would take the lead, before slipping his fingers under the waistband of San’s boxers. He dragged his fingers back and forth under the elastic, teasing.
San will relax. But more than he wanted to relax, he wanted to watch Wooyoung suck him off. He fought the heavy arousal that weighed his eyelids down, threatening to keep his eyes shut through his first blow job. Wooyoung pulled the waistband down, letting San’s cock spring free and slap against his stomach. He held back a small laugh. The force with which San’s cock sprung up and slapped against his stomach was comparable to over-exaggerated porn. He was already leaking from his tip, something Wooyoung was clearly pleased with.
“I didn't know you wanted me so bad.” Wooyoung took the base of San’s cock in his hand and leaned his head against his thigh, smiling up at him mockingly while he took in every detail of San.
“You have no idea–” San barely finished his sentence before he was interrupted by Wooyoung leaning forward and kitten licking the underside of his cockhead. The single touch was enough to make him leak more.
Wooyoung lapped up the liquid, combining the sharp and salty taste with the rest of his saliva. He tilted his head slightly and pressed his tongue coated with the mix of precum and spit flat onto San’s balls, dragging a firm, wet stripe all the way back up to the tip. San shuddered. Wooyoung continued to lick up and down the shaft, wetting the entirety of San’s cock before wrapping his lips around the tip, sucking softly.
Nothing could have prepared him for the way Wooyoung’s mouth felt. The wet heat of Wooyoung’s mouth made obscene sounds as he worked up and down San’s length. A warm feeling formed in San’s stomach, his abs contracting more and more frequently as Wooyoung picked up his pace. San tried his best to stay quiet. When he was on his own, he had only ever let out a couple rapid, choked breaths as he came. Leading up to it, he was completely silent. Now, feeling the overwhelming stimulation, he wasn’t quite sure what kind of noises Wooyoung would coax out of him.
He threw his head back with a low groan as Wooyoung took in all of San in one swift motion, relishing the feeling of his cock hitting the back of his throat. He felt a muscle twitch against his tip, presumably from Wooyoung gagging slightly. San placed his hand on Wooyoung’s cheek in concern, running his thumb over the highest point of his cheekbones. For a second, he doubted Wooyoung, San didn’t want to push him too far, but he had no idea what too far was. Wooyoung took a deep breath through his nose and slowly dragged his lips back down to push his tongue into San’s slit, smiling. He looked up at San through his eyelashes, as if asking, Aren’t I good? San shouldn’t have doubted Wooyoung’s skill. He didn’t have much time to dwell in Wooyoung’s smug look before he was engulfed once more. Using one of his hands, Wooyoung pumped the remaining length of San’s cock as he glided his lips back and forth. Pressure began to build between San’s legs, quickly making him fidgety.
“Wait–” San grabbed a fistful of Wooyoung's hair and yanked his head back, forcibly pulling Wooyoung’s mouth off his cock. Wooyoung winced at the unexpected and sudden roughness from San, but smiled when he saw the state San was in. The realization dawned on him.
“Sensitive?” Wooyoung licked his lips proudly. Even though san was bigger, broader, taller than Wooyoung, it was undeniable that he was completely at his mercy. He would bend to every whim before he ever uttered a single sound of protest. San was hunched over, steadying his breath and recentering his body. He gave Wooyoung a small nod without looking up at him. He was two seconds away from coming in Wooyoung’s mouth, and they had their first kiss not even ten minutes ago. The fact that this was San’s first time, and he was with Wooyoung, made it hard to last. If he dared to look up at Wooyoung now and see his shiny, slightly swollen lips and spit dripping down his chin, he might lose. Not even at the peak of any of his past sexual frustration had San felt so close to the edge with so little. It was almost humiliating.
San couldn’t take the few seconds of them apart, albeit only inches away. Now that he knows how Wooyoung’s lips feel, how warm his skin is, how he reacts to San’s touch, he doesn’t want to miss a single moment of it. Wooyoung wastes no time running his hands back up San’s thighs as he rises to kiss him again.
“I’m gonna go rinse my mouth,” Wooyoung rose to his feet. “I’ll be right–”
“No,” San grabbed both of Wooyoung’s hands, yanking him back down. “No.”
“Are you sure? I don’t know if you want to taste–”
San cut him off with a hard kiss, answering Wooyoung’s question. It saddened San a bit, to think that Wooyoung has slept with people who didn’t want to kiss him after such an act. It felt something like the Woah, I’m not gay sentiment, and it hurt to think Wooyoung assumed San fell somewhere in that category. Maybe he would have at one point, but not anymore. He was going to do everything to prove that to Wooyoung.
Wrapping his arm around him, San guided Wooyoung to the bed, laying him down on his back softly. Their pace ebbed and flowed from urgent and unruly to affectionate and measured.
“By the way,” Wooyoung found an opening between their kisses. “I’m clean.”
“Huh?” San half asked, half hummed mindlessly.
“You know, if you want to fuck.”
San felt his face heat up.
“You have to prep me if you want to fuck me, you know.” Wooyoung angled his body towards his nightstand as he rummaged through the drawer for a bottle of lube. “Is that what you want? To fuck me?”
The question almost made San collapse. He appreciated Wooyoung’s questions and communication, but it forced San to reflect on what he was doing. Kissing Wooyoung. Confessing to Wooyoung. It’s all really happening.
“Yeah. Yes.” Wooyoung reduced him into a blubbering mess. Not enough to stop him from softly returning the favor. “Is… is that what you want?”
Wooyoung grabbed San’s face with both hands, the bottle of lube squishing up against one of his cheeks. “I have wanted you to for so. Long.”
At this point, they had both completely sobered up. Nothing was imbued with the exaggerated confidence of a couple drinks. Everything now was unhindered, raw and genuine. And it only continued to grow. In some sense, San was nervous. Not only was he a virgin, but a closeted one until fifteen minutes ago. It was all happening so fast. Admitting he was jealous, confessing to Wooyoung, and now potentially fucking him. But the reassurance Wooyoung’s words provided– I have wanted you for so long –pulled San out of his head and placed him in the safety of Wooyoung’s arms. He trusted Wooyoung. If it was anyone else, he wouldn’t have been able to let go the way he finally was.
San smiled, relaxing into another kiss. They undressed each other hastily, until the only remaining item between them was Wooyoung’s shirt. By then, Wooyoung was whimpering impatiently. Fuck the shirt , his face read. Finger me now. Wooyoung grabbed the bottle of lube that fell to the wayside and shoved it against San’s bare chest.
“I… I don’t really know what…” San said, sitting up on his heels. Wooyoung couldn’t help but laugh. Not at him, but at the way his sweet and innocent demeanor contrasted with the rest of him.
“Don’t worry,” Wooyoung squeezed San’s legs with his. “I’ll tell you what I want. All you have to do is listen.”
San nodded, popping open the cap and guessing at the amount he squeezed on his finger tips. He’d seen the act a couple times–don’t ask him why–but it was difficult to recall much while Wooyoung laid half naked under him. San moved forward to hover above Wooyoung again, propping himself up with one hand by his head. Wooyoung gasped as he felt the shock of San’s touch spreading the liquid in slow, small circles around his opening. His eyelids fluttered as he struggled to maintain eye contact with San, who was taking in every detail of the dream in front of him. The expression on Wooyoung’s face was laden with a kind of sinful intimacy San could never have conjured up himself.
“Plea–” Just as Wooyoung began to plead, San pressed into Wooyoung, breaching his entrance. This time, he couldn’t keep his eyes open. The throaty moan that escaped from Wooyoung’s throat went straight to San’s cock. At this rate, he has no idea if he will make it far enough to actually fuck Wooyoung. Once he was as far in as his hand would allow, he curled up the tip of his finger and dragged back out. Every sound and movement urged San further, encouraging to pick up his pace. It didn’t take long for Wooyoung to begin twitching under him.
“God, fuck–” Wooyoung’s eyebrows furrowed upwards, as if he was praying. “Yeah. You’re doing good. Just like that. Another… put in another.”
San obeyed, preparing to push two fingers into Wooyoung. He meticulously paid attention to each movement from Wooyoung, alert and ready to change his strategy at the drop of a hat if he made any mistakes. San had no gauge for how much Wooyoung could take, or how long it would take to open him up.
Apparently, not very long.
“One more.”
“One more?” San asked. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” Wooyoung nodded fervently. “You’re… well endowed. I gotta be ready.”
Although he had been complimenting almost every one of San’s moves, this particular comment shook off any last nerves of inadequacy he had. If everything else failed, at least he had a big dick.
Wooyoung inhaled sharply through his teeth as San added the last finger. San’s face grew concerned as he spotted a hint of pain on Wooyoung’s face. Just as he opened his mouth to ask if everything was okay, a soft palm on his cheek reassured him. It was like Wooyoung was able to anticipate everything San was thinking. Little does he know, his facial expression can be read like a book. Now is no exception.
“I’m ready.” Wooyoung ran his hands through San’s hair, pulling him in and pressing their lips together. San dragged his fingers out particularly rough one last time, earning him a painful bite on his lower lip from Wooyoung. He sat back up, one hand coated in fluid. Silently, he looked at Wooyoung. Wooyoung laughed sweetly, rolled his eyes, and grabbed San’s wrist, forcing him to wipe the excess on the bed sheets next to them. Clearly, a tomorrow problem.
Wooyoung arched up against San until their skin met, desperately closing the space between them. Everything about his body language was eager, impatient. Yet San deliberately took his time lining his now throbbing cock up with Wooyoung’s loosened hold, relishing the needy look in Wooyoung’s eyes as he anticipated the intrusion. Finally, San pushed past Wooyoung’s rim slowly, the pressure growing tighter around San’s cock as he sank deeper into him. Wooyoung threw his head back in a soundless gasp, pressing into the pillow.
“Fuck,” San panted into the crook of Wooyoung’s shoulder, steadying himself. Bottoming out in Wooyoung was almost overwhelming. A wince crept up on Wooyoung’s face. The pain was familiar, but the stretch… was not. He had felt how girthy San was in his mouth earlier, but he severely underestimated just how much of a difference it would make while he was being split open under him. San experimentally grinded his hips in a small circle against Wooyoung’s.
“Ah,” Wooyoung yelped, digging his fingertips into San’s back. San’s shaft just happened to be curved perfectly to hit where Wooyoung wanted most.
As Wooyoung adjusted to his size, San tenderly placed kisses on Wooyoung’s jaw, moving down his neck. The gesture made Wooyoung giggle. It was so characteristic of San to intermittently lace in moments of soft affection during sex, naturally putting Wooyoung in the position to pull them back down, away from innocence.
“Get on your back.” Wooyoung ghosted over San’s mouth. When San hesitated, confused, Wooyoung commanded him sternly. “Now.”
San fell to his side, bracing himself to pull out of Wooyoung. To his surprise, Wooyoung’s quick dexterity kept them together. Then it hit him. Wooyoung was riding him.
Wooyoung let out a small choked sound as he relaxed on top of San, taking him deeper than before, calling for another few seconds of adjustment. San couldn’t wait. He sat up, running his hands up Wooyoung’s sides attempting to coax his last article of clothing off. Wooyoung leaned back on his hands, allowing San better access to his chest. His hands traced over every available inch of skin. He froze when Wooyoung flinched at his thumbs brushing over his nipples.
“Sensitive?” San goaded.
“Says you,” Wooyoung smacked San’s hands off him and rolled his hips forward. San buckled forward, letting out a shattered breath as his gut tightened. A devilish smile flashed on Wooyoung’s face. San lost himself in Wooyoung. He let go of his inhibition to stifle his reactions to Wooyoung’s touch, letting out a loud moan as Wooyoung lifted off his hips and slammed down. He fell flat onto his back. Every part of him was at Wooyoung’s mercy. If he tried to move, he was hypnotized by the sight of Wooyoung. If he closed his eyes, he was held captive by the sensation of his cock rocking against Wooyoung’s walls.
As Wooyoung worked, he hooked his thumbs under the fabric of his shirt and slid them to the middle. He tilted his chin down to bite down on the hem, holding his shirt up above his pecs. Fucking show off. Wooyoung’s moans were stifled from the material acting as a pseudo gag in his mouth. San bit his lip in an attempt to quiet himself. He wanted to hear Wooyoung, he wanted to hear every filthy sound fill the room around them.
“Fuck,” San sighed. “I’m not gonna last.”
San watched through his eyelashes as Wooyoung’s hand slid down his stomach and wrapped around the crown of his cock, moving his palm down the protruding veins that San had neglected to notice before. He formed a steady fist that pumped up and down his length as he rode San, almost selfishly. The longer Wooyoung touched himself, the more the absence in San’s imagination filled. This is what it looked like, this is what he was missing out on that time he heard Wooyoung pleasuring himself in his bedroom. The memories, the thoughts, the sensations–it all ignited a fire of greed inside San that demanded to be satiated. In one swift, haphazard movement, San lurched forward and grabbed Wooyoung with both arms and flipped them back around. He had already felt the heat building in his lower back, and he was going to be damned if he was going to cum laying down with Wooyoung doing most of the work. To make up for his sloppy movements, San filled Wooyoung in one smooth motion, and continued their rhythm. Surprised, Wooyoung laughed and crashed back into San. He latched his ankles together on the small of San’s back, granting San more freedom to inconsequentially speed up his thrusts.
“Wooyoung–” He exhaled shakily, still keeping a steady but rapid pace. “I–”
“I know, baby,” In a final burst of ambition, San reached behind him and grabbed the back of Wooyoung’s calf, throwing one of his legs over his shoulder. Wooyoung’s knee notched around San’s shoulder easily. Wooyoung lifted his head, pressing their foreheads together as San pounded into him relentlessly. Their new position allowed San to go harder against the spot that would shatter Wooyoung. San’s knuckles turned white as he gripped any bedding under his palms. His thrusts became erratic, the rhythm faltering as he let out a choked moan with eyes squeezed shut. He didn't need to open his eyes to know Wooyoung was smiling fiendishly under him.
“Keep going, Sannie.” Wooyoung whined into San’s open mouth. “C’mon, for me, hm? You wanna be good, don't you?”
Fuck. San will be damned before he ever gets the reputation as a pathetic lay with Wooyoung. So he obeyed, trying his best to continue fucking into Wooyoung despite the overestimulation threatening to freeze his jerking hips in place.
“Yeah,” Wooyoung continued to praise him, perhaps a little too well for his now inconsistent performance. “Mhm, just like that. Keep going. You’re… doing so good…”
Muscles all over his body began to lock and spasm. San fell to his elbows, placing one beside Wooyoung's rib cage and the other just above his shoulder. On the opposite side, San buried his face into the crook of Wooyoung's neck, panting and whining as he mustered every last bit of will power to keep thrusting. At this point, he was animalistic.
“Fuck.” Wooyoung managed to whisper between noises. Thankfully, San felt nails begin to press divets in his back. Wooyoung was close, his body tensing and pressing up against his, as if he was bracing himself. His moans fell quiet, breathless, before he explosively unraveled all at once with San. San felt Wooyoung jolt under him, holding one last tense pause as he came before squirming as San continued to fuck him through every aftershock.
“Hnng, San, San please–” Wooyoung pressed his hands on San’s chest, trying to push him off, praising him for following his instructions so dutifully and working overtime. San thrust into Wooyoung one last time, pressing into him deeper than he had before, plugging him completely.
San relaxed his shoulders, letting all his weight fall over Wooyoung.
“Oof–” Wooyoung exasperated and let out a chuckle, tapping San on his back. “You don't know how much of a hunk you are, big boy. You're crushing me.”
San groaned dramatically, making Wooyoung laugh harder, shaking them both. Only a second ago, the air was hot, desperate, strung with the excitement of uncharted territory. Now it was warm, familiar, and the friendship they were used to bloomed back into existence, as if all the space that had grown between them over the past couple of months was never there. San hoped Wooyoung wouldn't be able to feel him smiling into his skin. Then again, San hoped for a lot of stupid things.
“Are you saying I’m big, buff and sexy?” San teased, unmoving.
“Yes,” Wooyoung replied sarcastically. “You're big, buff and sexy and soon you'll be big, buff and on the hardwood floor.”
With the same stupid smile on his face, San pushed himself up off Wooyoung. He paused to find Wooyoung's soft gaze staring up at him, cut short by a sweet peck on his lips.
San steadied himself upright on his knees and looked down between his legs. Wooyoung had glistening ropes of cum all over his stomach, some of which had stuck themselves to San’s abs. His eyes continued south, until he locked on his cock, completely engulfed by Wooyoung's hole once again. He slowly began to back out, watching their bodies pull apart. A sharp inhale, something close to a whine, stole his attention. Wooyoung was moaning again, eyes fluttering as San’s still hard cock dragged out of him. San couldn't believe it. If he had it in him, he would vow to a million more rounds this instant.
“Don't do that…” San shook his head, still fixated on the pleasure over Wooyoung's face.
“Do what?” Wooyoung feigned innocence, faking a pout the best he could while silently gasping with pleasure.
“Make me want to fuck you again.”
“Is that a challenge–” San continued to drag his cock out of Wooyoung, his sensitivity rendering him speechless. They stared at each other, both on the fence of another round and convincing each other to call it a night.
Wooyoung instructed San to grab wipes, also stored in his nightstand. They bickered, almost habitually, insisting that one of them took lead in cleaning them both up. After some naked wrestling back and forth, San lost to a Wooyoung’s teeth digging into a sweet spot on his neck he didn’t know he had.
“God,” Wooyoung exhaled, plopping down on his bed. “Are you sure that was your first time?”
San whipped his head around after tossing the dirty wipes into a trash can across the room. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that was impressive.” Wooyoung didn’t need any light to know that San was blushing as he buried his face into the pillow.
“You’re mocking me.” San lamented, his voice muffled.
“I’m not!” Wooyoung wedged his hand under San’s chest and pushed over until they were face to face again. He planted a soft kiss on the tip of San’s nose. “I’m not. Promise.”
San’s pout turned into a suppliant pucker, one Wooyoung had seen taunting him many times before. This time, he got to answer in the way he always wanted to. He leaned forward and reciprocated the kiss fondly. San took the opportunity to envelop Wooyoung in his arms. Wooyoung rolled over, allowing San to press his body up against his.
“So you’re gay now, hm?” San could feel Wooyoung smiling against his arm.
“Guess so.” He tightened his grip around Wooyoung suppressing his sudden shyness.
“Good, I’m glad.”
Their breaths synced up the longer the lay together. San couldn’t tell if Wooyoung was dozing off, or was laying just as awake as he was. A million thoughts rushed through his mind, Wooyoung’s physical presence rendering most of them unintelligible. San was here now, and frankly that’s the only place he wanted to be.
“Thank you.” San’s words, as light as his delivery was, were heavy. Thank you for coming into my life. Thank you for being patient. Thank you for being kind. Thank you for not leaving. Thank you for everything.
Wooyoung looked over his shoulder and planted a soft kiss on San’s forehead. “Goodnight, Sannie.”
Sannie.
***
San opened his eyes confused at his unfamiliar surroundings. He searched the room, his gaze landing on a polaroid photo lazily taped to the wall closest to him. His vision focused on the photo. It was of him and Wooyoung, standing in their empty living room the day they moved in together. San had completely forgotten about that moment, but it all came flooding back to him. San was shy, hesitant to take a photo on Wooyoung’s expensive vintage camera. Yet Wooyoung’s pestering was more than persistent. It was a way to get close to San, a strategy he never strayed from. He pouted and made puppy eyes, wrapping his arm around San’s bicep for the first of many times to come. San didn’t know Wooyoung kept the photo, let alone hung it up so close to his bed.
Then, before it really hit him, a body next to him shifted. He turned his head around only to find himself inches from Wooyoung’s face. His breath caught in his throat. Wooyoung slept like an angel, with warmth radiating off his skin like a gravitational force. Moments of the night before danced around in San’s head, worsening his craving for Wooyoung’s skin. An uneasy feeling stirred in his stomach. As much as he was over the moon to be here, waking up next to Wooyoung, it signaled a point of no return. There were not take backs, nothing either of them could play off as “just being friends.” They were in it now, irrevocably. San propped himself up on an elbow, reaching his other hand out to push back the long strands of hair that hung over Wooyoung’s eyes.
Wooyoung stirred, groaning a little in protest at San’s disturbance. San let out a small laugh out of his nose. Although just a breath, it was loud enough for Wooyoung to finally open his eyes. He looked up at San, his tired haze not enough to cover the immense amount of contentment in his stare. San felt a tug at his side. Before he could react, Wooyoung was nuzzling his head into San’s chest. Instinctively, San wrapped both his arms around Wooyoung, deeply inhaling their intertwined scents.
San closed his eyes one more time, and for once he would have chosen to stay awake rather than slip away into a dream.