Chapter Text
The summer began with promise. The promise of youth that would never disappoint, never change. Time turning on an endless loop of searing days, salt on the skin and the relief of afternoon storms. The kind of summer that hung heavy, thick and humid, time running slow like syrup.
As those languid afternoons stretched into evening, the dance studio provided sanctuary from the heat. The open windows welcomed the slight breeze while the fans circled overhead, just moving warm air, but the light through the windows painted the room in tones of soft gold. San watched the others in the mirror on the far wall, seven bodies in a blur of motion, moving in time with the music.
“You’re always half a beat behind,” Yunho complained, but he was unable to hide his smile as he stopped the track.
“Hey! It’s called freestyling, Yunho,” Mingi shot back, throwing his hands in the air dramatically.
Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “It’s called missing the intro, Mingi,” he said as he caught Mingi’s eyes in the mirror. “Now watch me. Yunho, from the beginning!” he called out.
“What happened to loyalty?” Mingi muttered, but his grin was wide.
The rubber soles of Wooyoung’s shoes squeaked against the floorboards as Exo’s Obsession began to play again, the melody still sonorous and menacing even through Yunho’s small bluetooth speaker. San had always thought there was something uninhibited about the way Wooyoung danced, always finding a raw beauty in the fluidity of his movement, like he hadn’t yet learned restraint.
One by one, the others joined in the routine while San continued to marvel at how the Wooyoung inhabited the music, silently pleading for the music to shape him in the same way. Sometimes he would fall out of step watching him, shocked at how he lost himself in the way Wooyoung’s hair brushed his forehead when he spun, the quick flare of his smile in the mirror.
Once again, he told himself it was admiration. It had to be.
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As the song came to an end for the final time, the sound was replaced by the shuddering breaths of the eight of them as they collapsed to the floor.
“I’m dying,” Jongho groaned as he recovered, laying flat and using his towel as a makeshift pillow.
“You’re dramatic,” Hongjoong huffed without looking up. He was seated cross-legged against the wall with his notebook open again, pencil scratching across the page, maybe making notes about formations or maybe just formless sketches.
“You’ve said that three times today,” Jongho said. “I’m taking it as a lack of parenting skills.”
Hongjoong attempted a scowl, but his lips curled into the slightest smile as his eyes met Seonghwa’s in the mirror.
San leaned back on his hands, tilting his head toward the ceiling. He watched the blades of the fan circle overhead in near silence. Tomorrow, they’d be doing this again. And the day after. Then he caught himself.
No. Not the day after.
The thought was still new enough that it didn’t feel real.
Wooyoung’s father had broken the news at the beginning of the summer. We’re moving to Seoul! It’s a great opportunity for me, he had said as Wooyoung sat in stony silence. His father’s voice had softened as he followed up, A great opportunity for us all. You can apply to colleges in the city and really make something of yourself. You can even keep dancing there, I’m sure there’ll be classes you can join!
Wooyoung had been fighting his emotions when he broke the news to them all those weeks ago. The others had formed a tight circle around him as he finally soaked their shirts with his tears. As San joined in the hug, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was slipping through his fingers, something he hadn’t even held onto yet, something he couldn’t even name.
It felt like someone had pressed pause on the world.
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That evening, they all ended up at Jongho’s family’s restaurant. Blue Summer Bistro had a prime spot by the river, but with its faded sign and mismatched chairs and tables, it held onto the simple, rustic atmosphere that was common in this provincial town. The sunset had bled almost to the horizon by the time they arrived, leaving the air bruised in shades of purple and tasting of salt.
“You’re late,” Hongjoong called from a table in the far, his voice stern. A sly grin took over his face as he shout-whispered, “Seonghwa’s been waiting to lose to me at karaoke.”
“How can you lose at karaoke?” Wooyoung laughed as he approached the group.
“Anything can be a competition with this group,” Seonghwa mused from his place beside Hongjoong. He placed his hand over Hongjoong’s, squeezing lightly, “Don’t worry darling, I won’t humiliate you too quickly.”
Everyone laughed, settling into their usual rhythm, the comfortable sounds of people who had known each other long enough for conversation to flow without trying.
“You’re lucky,” Yunho said as he handed Wooyoung one of the sodas he had just brought over from the bar. “City life. New school. New everything.”
“Yeah,” Wooyoung muttered as he opened his can. “Lucky me.”
San watched the bubbles rise and break as he poured his own drink into his waiting glass. His stomach twisted painfully at the melancholy in Wooyoung’s voice, but Mingi was already talking about road trips to visit him, Yeosang had a list of museums and cafés in the city that Wooyoung had to try. Everyone was excited for him. Everyone except San, who couldn’t make himself look directly at Wooyoung for too long.
The connection between them had never needed words before. It had lived in shared glances, silent rhythms and mirrored movement, but now there was this wall between them, a future that he couldn’t picture without him.
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Later, after closing time, when the last of the customers had left, Hongjoong dimmed the lights and Jongho declared it was time for karaoke. Hongjoong challenged Mingi to an impromptu rap battle, throwing him the other mic when Fantastic Baby started, the others howling in delight. Yunho and Seonghwa covered a Twice song, complete with flawless choreograph,y while Yeosang smiled and sang along in his deeper voice, tapping the beat on the table with precision. Wooyoung filmed everything, hyping them all up in the process.
Wooyoung himself sang last. The opening chords of Friend by Ahn Jaewook filled the room, almost like smoke. His voice wasn’t perfect, but it was honest. When he sang, San forgot to breathe. For a moment, it was just the sound of that voice, the way it cracked a little on the high notes. San had always loved how Wooyoung sang, not for the skill, but for the way he meant it.
By the time the song ended, everyone else had joined in, nostalgia thick in the air. The rest of the group broke into thunderous applause and laughter, with shouts of “Encore!” But San didn’t join in. He couldn’t. He was caught in that moment, the sound of Wooyoung’s voice echoing in his head as a single tear slipped down his cheek.
“C’mon everyone, gather ‘round,” Seonghwa held his phone high over the table until he had everyone in frame. “On three, two, one-” San quickly wiped his face dry and smiled instead, but it couldn’t quite reach his eyes. Seonghwa snapped the photo before texting it to everyone present.
San had no idea how long he stared at that photo later, memorising the edges of Wooyoung’s smile.
They began their way home together after midnight, apart from Jongho and Yeosang, who stayed behind to lock up. The others had peeled away one by one, Yunho biking ahead with Mingi trailing behind, Seonghwa and Hongjoong waving them off with a “get home safe” as they turned the corner towards Seonghwa’s house.
Only San and Wooyoung remained, walking down the empty street, the air still holding onto the heat of the day.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Wooyoung murmured.
San shrugged. “I’m tired. It’s late.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” Wooyoung shot back.
San stopped in the middle of the road. “Fine. I don’t want you to go.” The words surprised them both, harsh as they were.
Wooyoung turned back to him. “San…”
“I know you don’t have a choice,” San said quickly, helplessness leeching into his voice. “It’s just…we were supposed to finish school together. Graduate together. Everything.”
Wooyoung’s expression softened. “It’s not forever. I’ll come back during the holidays. You’ll blink and it’ll be graduation. San wanted to believe him.
They started walking again, slower this time. The light breeze rustled the leaves in the trees.
“Maybe I can join a dance team at the new school,” Wooyoung said quietly. “Or maybe start one if they don’t have one already.”
The reality of Wooyoung moving on without them, without him, hit San hard. He forced a smile. “You will. You’ll be the best one there.”
“Don’t be jealous.” Wooyoung’s laugh was a little shy.
“I’m not.” But he was, and he didn’t understand why.
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San walked alongside the moving truck as Wooyoung was pushing the last box of books inside. His breath caught when he saw San. “You’re here,” Wooyoung’s voice soft, almost inaudible.
“I didn’t want to miss you.”
They stood there for a moment, unable to make eye contact. Wooyoung shoved his hands in the pockets of his oversized hoodie. “You’re gonna make me cry.”
“Good,” San mumbled as his own tears threatened to spill. “It’s not fair if I’m the only one.”
Wooyoung laughed. “Hey… promise me something,” his voice wavered. “Don’t get boring while I’m gone. Keep dancing. Keep everyone in line. Especially Mingi.”
“I’ll try, but I can’t promise that I’ll succeed. You know what he’s like,” San choked out, his voice small.
Wooyoung hesitated, then stepped forward and pulled him into a tight hug. It wasn’t long, but it was real. San trembled, feeling Wooyoung’s heartbeat against his own. San clung onto him and buried his nose in Wooyoung’s soft hair, inhaling his warmth.
They pulled apart at the gentle voice of Wooyoung’s mother. “Sweetheart, it’s time.”
San fought back the tears as he said goodbye to Wooyoung’s parents and little brother, but neither of them knew what to say to each other. Wooyoung shattered first.
“See you soon Sannie,” Wooyoung’s voice broke as he turned to climb into the car.
San remained in their driveway long after they had gone, unable to face the silent trek home. There was no breeze to rustle the overhead branches, no birds singing their morning song. There was only quiet emptiness and a sky bleached of colour.
He told himself he’d get used to the quiet, the loss, but when he finally unlocked his door and stepped inside, the silence hit him like a wall. San closed the door behind him and leaned his back against it. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about how much it hurt to breathe.
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