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San handled the magnet with an ease he gained after years spent perfecting his technique. He tucked the piece of metal in the pocket of his black pants and took his revolver out instead. His fingers sinked in the dents of the handle and the gun molded itself to his palm.
Amongst millions, he could recognise his revolver with a brush of fingers. It was an extension of his hand, a materialised fragment of his soul. Unlike his past possessions, this revoler never lost its precision and its mechanic never failed him.
With a swift movement, San opened the patio door and the winter's breeze whooshed inside the warm bedroom. The curtains flapped beside San as he stepped inside and scanned the bedroom swimming in darkness.
The flickers coming from the computer’s screen gave insight on the objects shaping the room. The gaming chair was backlit by the homepage of a video game.
If it wasn’t for the dressing table mirror positioned next to the mouse pad, San wouldn’t have noticed a man’s presence. The mirror’s emplacement was almost too perfect to be left to hazards.
In its reflection the purple light of his computer sculpted his features with shadows that emphasized the puffiness of his dark circles and enhanced the height of his nose bridge.
San made eye contact with the stranger and behind those eyebags was hidden a gloomy stare with a spark of determination.
The black haired man spun in his gaming chair without impressment and faced San. Unlike most of San’s victims, the man didn’t react to the infraction. He stared at San emotionless, exhibiting extreme fatigue. His stare was devoid of a spark as if life had been sucked out of him.
San lifted his gun towards the presence and rapidly scanned at his surroundings, searching for any form of information that could help him identify who this man was.
God had made it too easy for him. A frame was displayed on the wall beside San. It was almost impossible to miss.
It depicted the same black haired man–in much better condition–with a diploma in hand and a generic smile on his face. His assassin's brain instantly registered the information at the bottom of the frame.
Jung Wooyoung, graduation, 2021.
So, this man was a nobody.
Boring, thought San–but perfect to pass under the police’s radar.
Tonight was announcing itself to be troubleless.
San’s focus returned to the man sitting two meters away from him. The present Wooyoung was in a black hoodie with strands of hair hanging over his temples.
His pupils lacked vitality, but still held this fierce and dark glare piercing through the dark. It remained unwavering in front of San’s menace.
“On your knees.”
Wooyoung obeyed without defiance–all of his victims did anyway.
San lifted his arm and aimed for Wooyoung’s forehead.
Once the muzzle was directed towards his victims on the verge of death, the ones who had not begged yet, yielded at this stage. Looking straight at The Finish Line seemed to break something in them.
Defenseless, helpless, toolless. Nothing else other than words, tears, sweat could save them from San’s will.
For this mere moment, he possessed all the powers in the world. He had full control over someone’s world. They begged. He chose. He controlled. They submitted. He stole everything from them, tearing away them from their lives. He owned them. Owned their lives.
San pictured a bullet passing right through Wooyoung’s skull, imaging killing him instantly in a splatter of blood.
Today wasn’t Wooyoung’s day.
It was a pity that Wooyoung had to cross San’s path. The hazard chose his place instead of another.
Maybe in the next life, Wooyoung would be luckier.
San’s finger hovered over the trigger. Wooyoung’s fists closed on the fabrics of his own pants. They started trembling.
It was coming. Pleads and wails. Begs and prayers. A familiar melody to San’s ears.
Every victims reached out for the hope that it might not have to end now, that maybe San wouldn’t make them loose everything. It was a hope destined to be crushed. None were spared. They all became another trace left behind for the police to scrutinize and examine, hoping to find inexistant hints except the bullet as his signature.
Wooyoung was just one out of many. Only a name added to his list. Another life ended by San’s finger by pressing on a trigger.
The next morning, San would be making the newspapers head titles another time.
Serial Killer Strikes Again : His Twenties Turned into Tragedy.
Time passed and Wooyoung's expression changed.
“Please,” was the first thing he whispered as his voice cracked. “Please.”
As expected, thought San. The pattern continued, as always.
San waited for more pleads. He wanted more. He was eager for more. San needed to see them broken, crawling at his feet.
Wooyoung’s bottom lips wavered and tears pearled in the corner of his eyes. His eyebrows turned into an upside down arch.
San was savouring this instant. He was delighted by the flavor power and ownership.
“P-please,” begged Wooyoung as his voice broke into a sob. “Do it.”
The time stopped.
The last two words hit him violently.
Do it.
The two words resonated in San’s head. It was a shock. Never a victim of his insisted on being killed.
San sucked in a breath and shook off the disturbance. He came back to reality.
He had a job.
The kill must be done.
San never ever backed away.
San’s jaw clenched as he told his finger to fold and activate the trigger.
But,
It didn't.
He frowned and tried harder.
The finger stayed still. It was blocked by an invisible force.
Frustrated by his inability to proceed, San groaned and used his two fingers to press on the trigger.
They couldn’t fold.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm his mind. He focused on the revolver’s trigger as he controlled his hand tremor. His confidence rebuilt, he was ready to end the man’s life once for all. He breathed in and out and…
“Please. End it,” the man’s voice broke as the emotions took his eyes. “I beg you.”
The plead punched the air out of his lungs.
San found himself bared of all control. The power had slipped from in-between his fingers. Wooyoung stole them away from him.
San found himself toolless, helpless, weak and vulnerable. It was like a knife had stabbed his heart. Without a source to thrive, he had no reason left to kill other than his duty to himself.
Wooyoung pierced through his shell and tore his heart from his chest. San was torn between his duty and his heart, not knowing which one to thrust anymore.
A simple plea had left him upside down as he tried to recover from it. He must kill the man, but something was stopping him from completing his crime.
Wooyoung was growing impatient in the suspension of the action. The anger tangled with desperation and the knot grew bigger in size, blocking his oesophagus and squeezing his heart. It enlarged until it was unbearable.
He just wanted to die. This moment was meant to be. It was the perfect opportunity.
If the killer couldn't do it alone, then Wooyoung would handle it. He'd take care of the matter himself.
He just wanted to die.
Wooyoung pulled San away from his internal war by grabbing the barrel and angling it to his forehead. His thumb swiftly placed itself on San’s finger. He pressed firmly on the finger to force San to trigger the revolver eager to be delivered from this hell.
It was the end.
Finally.
The sound of a shot filled the room.
Then, complete silence.
Eyes closed and his heartbeat resonating in his ears, San’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach.
He didn't dare to look down.
Was Wooyoung dead?
San’s heart tightened, suddenly praying that Wooyoung’s forehead was still intact.
San looked down. A imaginary blade stabbed his stomach.
Wooyoung was firmly holding the gun, tears running on each side of his face filled with rage. He made eye contact and San recognized such a determination in the abyss of Wooyoung's pupils. A shiver crawled under San’s scalp and down his spine.
What has he done?
San was speechless, shocked by his own hands.
They moved on their own and lifted the gun when Wooyoung activated it. It fired towards the wall instead of inside his skull. The bullet passed through the computer screen and lodged itself in the wall. The room was submerged in shadows except the cold glow coming from the window.
Wooyoung glared in his direction. Madness had taken over him. He couldn't bear still being alive.
If San had to choose a word to describe him, he would say intimidating. His eyes moved from San’s eyes to the pistol.
Wooyoung rushed to the hammer and pressed the muzzle to his forehead hard enough to print itself in pink on the skin. He was about to shoot another bullet when San snatched the weapon away.
Wooyoung threw himself to catch the weapon again, but San’s reflexes moved it out of reach. He stepped away, following his instincts
“What!?” spat Wooyoung possessed by an uncontrollable fury.
Wooyoung was fuming. He charged at San, aiming for the gun.
San blocked a few of his attacks, holding the gun out of reach just in time. Wooyoung had turned crazy, and was missing just by a few millimeters to touch the revolver every time he tried to reach for it.
San was having a hard time to control the beast with one arm. He used the first solution that came to his mind : he threw the weapon to the other side of the room.
The man glanced at him before sprinting towards the corner where it landed. Before he could step any further, San caught the collar of his black t-shirt and wrapped his arm around Wooyoung’s neck.
“I need t– STOP!!!” groaned Wooyoung, fighting against San. “Let me– Argh!! No!”
San fought the latter as he tried to get away. Wooyoung elbowed his ribs and tried to unbalance San and flip him to the floor. He put on a good challenge, but his frenetic fighting showed that wrestling wasn’t part of his expertise.
San turned them around and slammed his face onto the bed. He used the weight of his muscles at his advantage and caged him in from behind. He held on tightly both his wrist behind his back and immobilized the man’s head to the mattress by pressing a hand on top of it.
He waited until the man calmed down underneath him and looked around the bedroom in case something that could help him learn who this man was. The room was just like any other messy gamer room with a pile of unfolded clothes on the messy covers next to them.
This man was clearly living alone and didn't receive any visitors for quite a while. Je seemed to spend all his time in this room with how the empty bowls of instant ramen were piled up next to the keyboard.
“Let me go,” ordered Wooyoung with a grunt.
“For you to kill yourself?” scoffed San with a smirk. He shook his head and playfully said, “Nuhuh darling.”
Wooyoung pulled his arms one last time and finally abandoned, slacking on the bed. San kept his wrist in place until he let them go, but still kept an eye on them just in case – even though the guy didn't look like a trained assassin like him. He didn't represent much of a menace for San, a years-long trained serial killer – but you could never be too careful in this field of work.
“If you can't kill me,” groaned Wooyoung with a strained throat, “Will you at least have the decency to let me breathe properly?”
San recognized that his entire weight might be a lot for a lower back to handle. He lifted himself on his knees and let Wooyoung flip himself to the side, coughing a few times.
As suspected, Wooyoung immediately tried to slip away from underneath him. A hand on his shoulder was enough to pin him to the mattress and prevent him from escaping.
“Why?” whined Wooyoung.
“Why not,” smirked San.
“Let me kill myself.”
San scoffed, ”You’re a funny guy aren't you?”
San, himself, didn't even know why, but his guts were telling him to spare this man’s life.
Moments ago, his body involuntarily committed to stop the man from ending his own life before he even made the decision to do so. The same hands covered in blood of hundreds of people were now fighting to keep this stranger alive.
San didn’t seem willing to answer him, so Wooyoung continued, “You were supposed to kill me. You ruined my plans.”
San paused.
He defigured Wooyoung for a few seconds.
“What do you mean by supposed to? Do we know each other?”
“No we don't,” answered Wooyoung, seeming more relaxed than before. “Well…Either way you’ve never told anyone your true identity.”
San frowned.
The man in front of San suddenly became intriguing. He wasn't an irrelevant boring graduate anymore.
What did Wooyoung mean by that?
“Explain yourself.”
Wooyoung stared at him and said, “At least let me go.”
San shook his head and kept his position on top of the other. “I’ll consider it after you explain to me what plan I ruined.”
Wooyoung sighed and simply explained.
The whole truth unrolled before San.
Wooyoung knew him.
He knew a lot more than anyone should.
He knew too much.
For the first time in his life, San was unmasked.
If it had to happen, I would’ve bet on a detective or the police. Never would've he expected a random hacker about the same age as him to be the first to identify him.
Wooyoung even admitted hacking his devices and managing to guide him here without San realizing it.
What Wooyoung had achieved was the proof of a great mind. A level of intelligence that San had never met.
“Now that you're aware that I know this much. Wouldn't it better to kill me and bury the information with me? Deads don't talk.”
San swallowed and glanced at the gun abandoned on the floor. Wooyoung was right. Letting him survive had high risks of equalling the death sentence.
“What do you want from me?”
“I wanna die.”
“Why would I do that for you?”
“The important part isn't the reason for the act, but the wish you will grant.”
San got off the bed and walked to the corner of the room. He grabbed the gun on the floor and pointed it at Wooyoung.
Wooyoung sighed, “Fucking finally.”
His miserable life with no future was finally coming to an end.
Wooyoung smiled and it was the prettiest San had ever seen in his life. It struck him like lightning.
Wooyoung was beautiful.
San's hand slowly lowered the gun until it was directed towards the ground. He couldn't do it. Not this time.
Wooyoung tilted his head up and saw San looking at him with sadness.
“It’s my choice, you don't even have to feel bad about it.”
At this instant, San realized this is why he couldn't do it. It wasn't his choice. He wasn't in control.
In this moment of vulnerability, Wooyoung guessed that San wasn't going to be the one who would grant his wish. The time he spent to track San down was wasted in a snap of fingers.
“I've never seen such a useless stupid coward. I never expected such an experienced serial killer to be this pathetic. You're too weak to even kill me when you have been doing this for years.”
San smirked amused, not letting the words get to him.
“C’mon lil bitch, do your fucking job. Be a fucking man for once,” spat Wooyoung. “I bet your lil mama never told you she loved you.”
San got annoyed by the arrogance. He slammed Wooyoung to the mattress and put the gun underneath his chin as a threat.
“Shut your pretty fuckin' mouth.”
Wooyoung smirked, “If I don't, will you kill me?’
San detailed his face, fuming but unable to ignore how good looking Wooyoung was despite his evil bratty smirk.
Wooyoung’s eyes sparked in the darkness. He raised his hand to caress San’s face and rubbed his thumb on his temple.
San frowned, thrown off, but before he could pull away, Wooyoung had pulled him in by the collar.
San didn’t like when strangers touched him. But somehow, with Wooyoung it was okay. He was surprised by the softness of the touch. It was almost as if he wanted to lean into it.
Wooyoung’s gaze moved to San’s lips. The latter sucked in a breath. Wooyoung was truly gorgeous with his hair spread around him and a challenging flame to his eyes.
In all honesty, it did things to the serial killer. He didn't despite the feeling.
The hint of a smirk passed on Wooyoung's mouth before he licked his lips. San had forgotten about their situation and where they were. His whole world was only composed of the man before him.
“You know, you’re kinda hot in this outfit.”
With the help of his collar, Wooyoung lowered San’s head so that their lips brushed against each other.
“You’re a pain in the ass,” let out San, feeling himself weakening at an impressive speed.
Wooyoung chuckled against his mouth and San felt the breath on his lips. Wooyoung closed the distance and gently kissed San on the lips.
The first time their lips met it was soft, lovely, sweet. However they lost control immediately at the second touch. Both were suddenly taken over by this unmatched need to swallow the other whole. San grabbed Wooyoung’s head with his free hand and smashed their mouths together.
Their lips moved together as Wooyoung caressed him, grabbed him, scratched him. His touch was electrifying and raise his hair all over his body.
His palm caressed San’s arm from his shoulder to his elbow and his nails sinked into the flesh.
It reached the wrist of the hand holding the revolver, using San’s distraction to his advantage.
Wooyoung acted quickly. He reached out for the gun nudged underneath his chin with the sole intention to trigger it and end it all.
San’s heart sunk as his adrenaline peaked drastically to unequalized levels when he realized Wooyoung's intention was just to distract him so he could end himself.
With a swift movement of the wrist, he once again saved Wooyoung from lodging a bullet in his skull.
The revolver was swung across the room as it hit the commode.
The moment of silence was accompanied by both of their heavy breathing.
San was in rage.
Wooyoung was devastated.
They were looking at each other intensively, both hating the other's action.
San looked so determined to keep him alive that Wooyoung realized that his one and only option had slipped away from his fingers.
The endless hours spent stalking, hacking and collecting information about the serial killer were about to be worthless if he decided to leave him safe and sound. The sled hate reached a peak unbearable. Wooyoung wanted nothing more than to die. San was his last resort.
The tears pearled at the corner of his eyes. His face twisted and translated the internal pain. Why was it so hard to die?
Wooyoung started crying at his other failed attempt. He stopped accounting them over time.
San’s heart shattered. Wooyoung’s sobs pained him, he wanted to make it better but he couldn't give him what he wanted.
San pressed their forehead together and cupped Wooyoung’s face.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” San whispered to soothe him.
Wooyoung held onto him and clenched his fists on San’s shirt. He grabbed onto the the comfort San brought him and wailed.
He wanted to die so badly, but the man in front of him wasn't cooperating. Nothing was more painful than failing once again.
“Oh no, baby,” said San as he saw Wooyoung break down underneath him.
San let the gun fall to the ground behind Wooyoung, out of reach, and hugged the crying man.
Wooyoung cried in his shoulders until it was wet with tears and snot. San caressed his hair and whispered sweet things until he calmed down.
“I just don't want my grandma to feel guilty once I'm dead,” confessed Wooyoung between hiccups. “It’s not her fault.”
San listened to him carefully tucking hair away from Wooyoung’s face.
“I just wanna die so bad,” said Wooyoung wholeheartedly. “Fuck I really want to.”
San continued caressing Wooyoung’s hair. “It’s okay.”
“If someone killed me, I wouldn't be leaving her with remorses,” said Wooyoung before he had a hiccup.
“That’s why you found me.”
Wooyoung red-shooted eyes finally looked into San’s eyes. They were so close.
“Will you kill me?”
“I’m sorry, you know I can’t, Baby,” soothed San.
“If someone could do the job, it was you. The most active and researched serial killer of Korea with 27 strikes under his unknown name.”
San was surprised that Wooyoung had this kind of knowledge. Only 24 kills were charted by the public institutions. His last three murders haven't been discovered.
“H-How you know?”
“The woman on the stairs. The elder on his porch. The man in the alley.”
San had a shiver run through his body. It was scaring him how much Wooyoung knew about him. Who was he?
“You’re fucking kidding me,” let out San flabbergasted.
Wooyoung smiled for the first time, amused by San’s surprise. He leaned in and chastely kissed San on the lips.
“You’re cute like this,” said Wooyoung and hiccuped.
San didn't really know what to say. The other surely knew more about him.
“Do you know my name?”
Wooyoung smiled, “Choi Something.”
San laughed ironically and passed a hand in his hair as he rolled on his back. Wooyoung was a menace. This whole thing was terrifying, but equally thrilling.
He was recognized as the most skilled serial killer of the century, due to how little trace was left behind him.
So how could someone like Wooyoung know this much about him and was able to lure him to be the next victim?
Wooyoung straddled San and put his two hands on the mattress next to San’s head. He grinned with excitement and asked, “What’s your full name?”
San ran his hands on Wooyoung's strong thighs and shook his head. He patted his hip and said, “Not so soon, Darling.”
“Come on. I’m just as bad as you anyway.”
San raised an eyebrow, “How is that so, Jung Wooyoung?”
“I was the first man on the scene for the murders that the police didn't find. I blurred the trace. I buried the bodies. I made up stories for the Press.”
The lack of newspapers articles for three murders made sense now. He suspected that the police wanted to avoid the news making it to the public, but no, all along it was the fruit of the genius currently straddling him.
San wasn't expecting this kind of revelation. Even less this combination of skills coming from a normal citizen.
Who was Jung Wooyoung?
Wooyoung also had blood on his hands. He was just as guilty as San. In front of the law he'd be judged as San’s accomplice.
San would be lying if he said he didn't find that hot. Wooyoung was insanely skilled and his knowledge was a treasure. San had never found a brain attractive, but fuck Wooyoung's brain was hot.
San pulled Wooyoung by the collar and clashed their mouths together. The latter moaned into the kiss and hiccuped. San smiled as they crawled into each other’s space, wanting to feel more of the other.
Wooyoung placed his leg in between San’s legs and rolled his hips, creating friction between the two. San grabbed his hips and guided him into humping against him.
Wooyoung's respiration turned into a series of gasps and whimpers. He licked San’s neck and tugged on his shirt to tell him to pull it off.
Underneath the shirt was hidden the hottest body he'd ever seen. San was ripped. His waist was incredibly tiny compared to how large his shoulders were. He was agile and strong and Wooyoung could only imagine what sex would be like with him.
San helped him get rid of his own hoodie and took a moment to admire his bodyline. He ran fingers on Wooyoung's tattoos and took the time to read them one by one.
Wooyoung got flustered by how San seemed mesmerized by him. The blood covered hands now held him like the most precious thing in the world.
“How can someone like you have killed this many lives?”
San smiled and confessed, “The power of stealing lives. It gives you tingling in your hands.”
“Take mine too. Kill me.”
“You know it doesn't work like that Darling. Not if you're the one asking me to kill you. It’s not called stealing if so willingly given.”
“What do you want? Control? Power?” Wooyoung lowered himself and kissed San smoothly. He whispered, “Control me. Take everything you want from me.”
He abandoned himself to San. Something in him told him that San was going to take care of him no matter what. He knew the serial killer would never hurt him. Even if he didn’t, it would change a thing to how he already felt like.
Wooyoung was gently manhandled to his back, legs spread apart as San placed himself in between them. He pinned Wooyoung’s arms to the mattress and covered his neck with hickeys and bite marks.
Wooyoung arched his back when San licked and sucked his nipple. He traced his collarbone with tongue and didn't forget to mark his Adam’s apple.
“Where's the lube?”
San got off the bed and followed where Wooyoung was pointing. He reached the desk and pulled a couple of messy drawers until he found the lube.
Suddenly, the click of his gun being charged for fire resonated in the bedroom.
San turned around and screamed at Wooyoung, as he felt like his world was crumbling around him. San was too far from him to stop him.
Wooyoung was gonna kill himself.
San could do nothing to stop him.
Wooyoung was going to trigger the gun and he would be out of reach to stop him.
Running to him would be useless if Wooyoung shot it now. His legs gave up as he watched Wooyoung placing the gun to his temple.
Wooyoung was happy.
It was finally the end. It was finished…
Wooyoung could feel the residual warmth of the last shot on his temple. The tears ran down his face as he watched San falling to the ground.
His knees hit the ground and his palm in front of him. The scream that San let out turned into crying. It was all his fault. San should’ve known. He shouldn't have walked away from Wooyoung and left him unsupervised. San cried so hard he couldn't see the man on the bed and holding the gun to his head. It was as if a part of himself was about to die.
Wooyoung’s heart was torn apart when he saw San shatter into pieces. He took a second too long than supposed to press on the trigger. Seeing San react like this blocked him from pressing the trigger instantly.
Wooyoung cried as he found himself unable to kill himself at the very last second. It was so painful to see San like this.
San seized the occasion. He spiked towards the bed and aimed for the gun.
Wooyoung resigned himself. He failed once again and it was more painful than death.
He let San grab the gun and shoot the bullet into the wall to make sure there was no risk of a misclick. He opened the chamber and emptied the gun of all its bullets. He didn't trust Wooyoung. He threw the gun away and wrapped his arm around Wooyoung. San held him tightly as tears stained the pillowcase underneath Wooyoung.
“Don't do this, please I beg you, don't do this. I promise I'll take care of you. Please. Don't do this. I'll help you. Please Wooyoung. I promise.”
The gun fell from Wooyoung's hand onto the mattress. San hugged his weak frail body as if Wooyoung was about to disappear. He was trembling in fear and his respiration was shaky.
Tears ran down Wooyoung as he hit San’s muscular shoulder with his fist. “Fuck. You were supposed to kill me.” He hit a second with more force.” You were supposed to make this suffering end.”
Wooyoung lifted his hand to hit him a third time, but San caught his wrist in the air. He brought his fingers to his mouth and kissed them. He whispered against their shaky hands, “Please. I beg you. Do not die. I know I'm selfish, but please stay with me.”
San cupped his face and pressed their foreheads together. His hands were shaking as he whispered, “I beg you. I promise I will help you to get there. I'll help you get better. I'll help you end the suffering. You're not alone in this.”
Never had he felt so loved and cared for by someone else than his grandmother.
It was so painful to live. He wanted nothing more than to die.
But he couldn't bear seeing San in pain.
“I hate you.”
If it meant he could make San smile, no matter how hard it would be, Wooyoung was going to do it.
“Promise?”
This decision was the most painful thing ever. Wooyoung hated himself for it.
“Promise.”
This connection between them went further than just on the surface. He felt it deeply in his trips as if he could share San's emotions. It came from somewhere grander than they could have imagined.
All tension left San’s body. Warm tears blurred his vision.
San kissed Wooyoung a million times on the lips wet and salty from the tears. He kissed his eyes, his temples, his forehead. He cried from happiness just from the relief that Wooyoung was going to live.
Wooyoung started giggling from the sheer love he was receiving. It was a laugh mixed with hiccups from his crying.
“Okay, okay enough,” said Wooyoung as he pushed San away.
San had a shadow of a smile on his mouth and was staring up at him with teary eyes.
Fuck, he was beautiful.
He blinked and a tear fell down. Wooyoung leaned in and kissed lovingly the wet trail where his tears ran down his face. He kissed the corner of his mouth and caught his lips into a longer kiss.
“You’re adorable,” smiled Wooyoung as he massaged San’s neck.
“You’re beautiful.”
“You’re so hot I wanna kill myself.”
“Oh brat shut the fuck up.”
“Choke me and I might,” said Wooyoung as he grabbed a handful of San’s bulge. This man was huge in his underwear.
Fuck San loved it so much. Him and Wooyoung just felt right.
“Go take the lube.”
This time San didn't leave Wooyoung from his sight. He blindly searched for the lube on the drawer as he watched Wooyoung crossing his arms.
“I told you I wasn't going to do it,” complained Wooyoung. He added, disappointed, “Even though I really want to.”
“You gave me the scare of my life. I can’t trust you.”
Wooyoung rolled his eyes and waited after San.
The moment San sat down, Wooyoung kicked his pants off and climbed on his lap and slipped a hand in his pants.
That day, two souls found their missing piece.