Chapter Text
✧ ✧ ✧
The smell of sunscreen, chlorine, and fried food drifted across the parking lot before they had even reached the entrance. Heat shimmered visibly above the rows of parked cars, blurring the far end of the lot into something almost liquid, and the asphalt gave off its own low hum of warmth that San could feel through the soles of his slides with every step.
Children darted between cars with bright towels wrapped around their shoulders, their parents calling after them with bags, hats, goggles, water bottles, and every other summer necessity dangling from their arms in various states of falling apart. A stroller wheel caught on a curb somewhere behind them and squeaked in protest. Somewhere beyond the gates, water rushed and splashed in waves, followed by the distant clatter of a slide and the delighted screams of people already throwing themselves into the day, the sound carrying farther than it had any right to.
The July sun had barely climbed high enough to clear the tops of the palm trees, but the heat had already settled over everything like a heavy blanket, thick and unmoving. Warm pavement radiated through the soles of San's slides, and somewhere nearby a lifeguard's whistle shrilled, followed by another chorus of laughter that rose and fell like a tide.
San tugged absently at the sleeves of his fitted black swim shirt, the lightweight fabric already warming beneath the early sun despite its cooling material, and shifted his backpack a little higher on one shoulder. It sat there comfortably, packed with enough supplies to survive what he jokingly called "minor disasters" — though at this point, after years of trips exactly like this one, he'd stopped considering it a joke.
And Wooyoung, naturally, had decided to become San's first problem of the morning.
"San-ah!" He was already jogging backward toward the entrance, weaving between two parked cars without looking, their tickets raised over his head like a victory flag caught in the wind. "Hurry up! We're wasting water-sliding time!"
San pointed at the curb behind him without breaking stride, already knowing exactly how this would go. "You're going to trip."
Wooyoung waved him off without looking, grin wide and entirely too confident. "I've never tripped in my—"
His sandal caught the curb mid-word. His arms pinwheeled, the tickets scattering from his grip and fluttering onto the asphalt, and for one bad second, San's stomach dropped clean through the pavement, his hand already half-raised, as if he could close the distance in time.
"Woo—"
Somehow he caught himself, stumbled two graceless steps, and threw both hands in the air like he'd stuck a landing at the end of a routine. "I meant to do that!"
San stopped in front of him, breathless, unimpressed, the laugh slipping out before he could stop it. "Of course you did."
"Excellent balance." Wooyoung was already crouching to scoop the tickets back up off the ground, brushing grit from the edges before he stood, entirely too pleased with himself for someone who'd nearly gone down in a parking lot.
"You almost kissed the pavement."
"But I didn't."
San just looked at him, arms crossed now, waiting. Wooyoung lasted exactly one second before the grin cracked at the edges. "Okay. Maybe a little."
Hongjoong appeared beside them a moment later, navy swim shirt crisp beneath a white bucket hat, wearing the expression of a man who'd aged five years since parking the car and was still counting the damage. Seonghwa drifted in after him, plucking a forgotten water bottle off the roof of the van without breaking stride, somehow still looking immaculate despite the heat already pressing down on all of them, not a single hair out of place beneath the brim of his own hat.
"Whose is this?" He held the bottle up, turning it once like it might reveal an owner on its own. Nobody answered. Seven faces looked back at him, equally blank, equally unbothered. He sighed, fond and resigned, and tucked it into the depths of his tote. "I'll just carry it until someone gets thirsty."
"We haven't even made it inside yet," Hongjoong said, checking his phone for the time and frowning slightly at what he saw.
At that exact moment, Wooyoung nearly walked backward into a decorative planter, catching himself on the rim at the last second. Seonghwa didn't even look up as he resettled the tote on his shoulder. "Never mind."
Wooyoung turned, grinning, entirely unbothered by his own near-miss. "That just means there's still time for improvement."
"That is the opposite of comforting."
Yunho came up behind them with one arm slung around Mingi's shoulders, his loose tropical shirt billowing with every long stride, sunglasses already crooked on his face. "I give it ten minutes before San has to save him from something else."
"Five," Mingi corrected, catching his backward cap before it could slide off entirely, tugging it back into place with the ease of long practice.
Jongho adjusted the strap of his bag, lifting it like it weighed nothing at all, his expression flat and unreadable as ever. "Three."
Yeosang took a slow sip of his iced coffee before answering, eyes tracking the group over the rim of the cup with quiet, unhurried attention. "You're all generous."
"I'm putting twenty on San carrying him by lunch," Yunho announced, already pulling out his wallet as if the bet were official the moment he said it.
"You're assuming he makes it to lunch," Jongho said, deadpan.
Wooyoung pressed a hand to his chest, wounded, staggering back half a step for effect. "Betrayal. From my own group."
"It's experience," Yeosang said, unmoved.
Seonghwa reached over without slowing his pace and smoothed the collar of the open white button-up Wooyoung had thrown over his coral swim shirt, the little embroidered shark peeking out from underneath. "At least look cute while causing problems."
Wooyoung glanced down at himself, tugging the collar back into place with visible pride. "I always look cute."
"Debatable," Hongjoong muttered, already walking again.
"Undeniable," Seonghwa corrected. Hongjoong's mouth twitched despite himself, and he said nothing more.
San felt the corner of his mouth lift as Wooyoung huffed and bumped their shoulders together — warm, solid, familiar, the kind of contact that had long since stopped registering as anything but normal. Wooyoung had nearly fallen in public before eight-thirty in the morning, shouted across a parking lot, and already drawn the attention of two families and a park employee leaning against the ticket booth with visible amusement. He had also, somehow, always reminded San of summer. Bright. Loud. Warm enough to make people smile whether they wanted to or not.
"Come on," Hongjoong called, already herding them toward the gate with one arm outstretched like a man corralling loose livestock. "Let's get through the entrance before Wooyoung finds another curb to fight."
"It attacked me first."
San slid a hand to the small of Wooyoung's back, guiding him forward before he could bounce into the family ahead of them, who were still fumbling with a stroller and three inflatable rings at once. Even this early, the humid air had already left the back of Wooyoung's swim shirt clinging lightly to his skin. "Walk normally."
"I am."
"You're bouncing."
Wooyoung looked down at his feet as if they'd betrayed him without his permission. "Okay, maybe a little. I'm excited." He hooked two fingers under the hem of his shirt and tugged the wet fabric away from his stomach with a dramatic sigh, fanning himself with the other hand for good measure.
"I can tell."
He reached back without looking and caught San's wrist, tugging it forward until their hands settled together, fingers slotting into place with the ease of long habit. "You excited too?"
San pretended to think about it, tilting his head like the question required real consideration. "I'm excited to sit in the shade."
Wooyoung wrinkled his nose so dramatically that San had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing outright. "That's not exciting."
Seonghwa watched the exchange from a few steps ahead and leaned toward Hongjoong, low enough that only he'd hear over the noise of the lot. "Five bucks says he's holding Wooyoung's towel before noon."
"He's already carrying extra sunscreen." Hongjoong didn't even look up from adjusting his own bucket hat. "Ten?"
"You're on."
✧ ✧ ✧
Wooyoung drifted back into San's space a minute later, sunglasses perched crookedly on his head instead of over his eyes, already scanning the fence line with an expression San had learned to find suspicious. "Sannie — I have a very important question."
San let out a quiet breath, already bracing. "Wooyoung."
"Do you think they'd notice if I skipped the line and climbed the fence?" He was already eyeing the gap between the barrier and the ticket booth, one hand drifting toward the chain-link as if he were measuring the height with his eyes alone, calculating something San very much did not want calculated.
"No."
"What if I was fast?"
"No."
"What if I was graceful about it?" He demonstrated, briefly, with an exaggerated little sidestep that nearly clipped a passing family's cooler.
San stared at him for exactly two seconds, unmoved, arms crossing over his chest. "Everyone would see."
Mingi leaned around Yunho, visibly delighted by the direction this had taken, already pulling his phone halfway out of his pocket. "I'd record it."
"For evidence," Yunho agreed, nodding solemnly.
"For memories," Mingi corrected, already opening the camera app.
Seonghwa looked genuinely alarmed, one hand rising as he might physically intervene. "Please don't encourage him."
"I wasn't."
"You absolutely were."
Hongjoong stopped walking and turned around slowly, the clipboard tucked under one arm like a gavel he was fully prepared to use. "No one is climbing anything."
Wooyoung looked between the two of them, betrayed, hands spreading wide. "This feels unfair."
"There are two parents today," Yunho reminded him helpfully, patting Wooyoung's shoulder in mock sympathy.
"I know your balance," Hongjoong said. "That's enough."
✧ ✧ ✧
Somehow, in the shuffle toward the line, the park map ended up in Wooyoung's hands. Nobody could quite say how. San suspected Seonghwa had handed it to him — Seonghwa liked giving everyone a job, some small task to keep them from wandering — and the consequences arrived almost immediately, Wooyoung holding the glossy brochure at arm's length with the concentration of a man decoding scripture, brow furrowed, lips moving slightly as he traced an invisible path across the paper.
"Who gave him the map?" Hongjoong asked from behind them, already sounding tired.
"I volunteered," Wooyoung said proudly, tracing a finger along a path that didn't exist, tapping it twice for emphasis. "Okay, so if we go this way first, we hit the lazy river, then the big slides, then food—"
"Wooyoung." San touched his elbow gently, already seeing it before Wooyoung did.
"Hm?"
"The map's upside down."
Wooyoung lowered the brochure slowly, studied it with exaggerated focus, turning his head slightly as though a different angle might change the facts, and then rotated it a clean hundred and eighty degrees without a shred of shame. "...That explains a lot."
Yunho doubled over laughing, one hand braced against the metal barrier. Mingi clapped once, delighted, nearly dropping his phone in the process. "We almost lost the group before we even got inside."
"I was testing everyone's observation skills," Wooyoung said, chin lifting, already folding the map back along its original creases as though that settled the matter entirely.
Hongjoong plucked the map from his hands as the line inched forward, tucking it firmly under his own arm this time. "You failed your own test."
"I corrected it."
"After San corrected you."
"Teamwork," Wooyoung said, and swept toward the front of the line before anyone could argue further, bumping the barrier slightly in his hurry.
✧ ✧ ✧
The line for wristbands crept forward a few more feet, metal barriers creaking under the weight of families inching toward the entrance, the shuffle of sandals and flip-flops against the pavement blending into a low, constant murmur. The air smelled like warm concrete and coconut sunscreen, thick enough to taste, and somewhere near the front a kid squealed as a parent misted sunscreen across his arms, the fine spray catching the light for just a second before disappearing.
San shifted his backpack and glanced over — and stopped.
Just the faintest dusting of pink, along the back of Wooyoung's neck where the collar of his shirt dipped low. Barely anything yet, easy to miss unless you were looking for it, but San had spent enough summers watching this exact patch of skin to know exactly what it meant. He frowned. "Wooyoung. Come here."
Wooyoung, still craning to see around the family ahead of them, didn't turn, up on his toes trying to catch a glimpse of the gate. "Why?"
"Sunscreen."
He groaned loud enough that the woman in front of them glanced back, amused, before returning her attention to her own kids. "Sannie."
"You promised." San was already unzipping the front pocket of his backpack, sleeves pushed to his forearms, fingers finding the familiar bottle without needing to look.
"I already put some on."
"This morning. Over an hour ago."
"It counts emotionally."
"That's not how sunscreen works." San flipped the cap open and held it out, waiting, patient in the particular way that meant he wasn't going anywhere until this happened.
Wooyoung eyed the towering slides visible over the fence, then the gate, then San, pleading with the full weight of his best puppy-dog expression. "Can we at least get inside first?"
"No."
"The slides are right there."
"They'll still be right there in two minutes."
He tipped his head back with a groan so dramatic his sunglasses nearly slid off his hair entirely, catching them at the last second with the reflexes of someone who'd nearly lost them a hundred times before. "This is oppression."
"This is SPF fifty."
"Same thing." But he shuffled closer anyway, arms out like a martyr accepting his fate, and turned when San guided him with a light touch to the shoulder, already resigned.
San squeezed sunscreen into his palm, the clean scent blooming between them, cool against his skin in a way that promised the parking lot would be unbearable by noon. Up close, under the chlorine and heat already rising off the pavement, he caught the citrus of Wooyoung's shampoo — and something else underneath it. Something familiar, something that didn't belong to Wooyoung's usual bottles at all.
"You used my soap."
Wooyoung went very still, the picture of someone caught red-handed. "No, I didn't."
"You smell like me."
"...Do I?" He glanced over his shoulder, grin turning wicked before San's hands had even finished smoothing sunscreen over his shoulders. "Maybe I just missed you while I was showering."
San's hands paused mid-motion.
Mingi made a gagging sound from somewhere behind them, loud enough to carry. "I heard that."
"Good," Wooyoung said cheerfully, entirely unrepentant.
Hongjoong sighed, long and put-upon. "I miss five seconds ago."
San cleared his throat and went back to work, pretending his ears weren't warm, one hand settling on Wooyoung's shoulder to hold him still while the other kept smoothing sunscreen in even strokes. "Hold still."
"I am."
"You keep turning around."
"I'm participating in conversation."
"You're making this difficult." San's thumb pressed lightly into the curve of his shoulder, an old, wordless request that Wooyoung would eventually, always, obey.
Wooyoung's shoulders relaxed under his hands anyway, the playful tension bleeding out of him slowly as San smoothed another layer over the back of his neck, working the sunscreen in with more care than the task strictly required. He wasn't sure when this had stopped being something he chose to do and started being just another shape of loving Wooyoung — somewhere between shared apartments and shared shampoo bottles left open on the same shelf, it had simply become the same thing, indistinguishable from any other quiet habit they'd built together.
"You missed here," he murmured, thumb brushing below Wooyoung's hairline, feeling the faint heat already gathering there.
"I used the bathroom mirror."
"I can tell."
His thumb grazed behind Wooyoung's ear, and Wooyoung's shoulders jumped before he could catch himself, a small, involuntary flinch. San grinned, not bothering to hide it. "Ticklish?"
"No."
"You moved."
"There was a breeze."
"There's no breeze." The air around them was, if anything, dead still, heavy with heat.
"There was spiritually."
He laughed under his breath and reached for more sunscreen, working it between his palms before starting on Wooyoung's arms. Behind them, Mingi clicked his tongue, watching the whole production with open amusement. "He's doing it with feelings again."
"I'm preventing sun damage," San said, not turning around.
"With feelings," Mingi repeated, entirely unconvinced, drawing the words out like they proved something.
Wooyoung peeked back over his shoulder, eyes bright with mischief. "You jealous?"
"Deeply." Mingi pressed a hand to his chest for full effect, staggering back half a step.
Yeosang took another slow sip of his coffee, unbothered by any of it. "I'd also like mine applied responsibly and with feelings."
"Same," Jongho said, lifting one hand without even looking over, still watching something on the other side of the fence.
San looked up, unimpressed, sunscreen still half-rubbed into one forearm. "You all have hands."
"But I have Sannie," Wooyoung said it lightly, almost absentminded, already turning his attention back to the fence line — and it still landed somewhere warm in San's chest anyway, the way it always did no matter how many times he heard some version of it. He tapped Wooyoung's side. "Turn."
Wooyoung obeyed, facing him fully now, and San dabbed a little more sunscreen onto his fingertips before reaching for his face. Wooyoung leaned away on instinct, nose wrinkling in advance. "Not my face."
"Yes, your face."
"I already did my face." He said it as if it settled the matter, arms crossed over his chest in what he clearly considered a final stance.
"You missed your nose." San caught his chin lightly, tilting it back into the light so he could actually see. "It's going to burn."
"My nose is strong."
"Not stronger than UV rays." He said it patiently, thumb already smoothing sunscreen over the bridge before Wooyoung could argue further, and Wooyoung's protest died somewhere in his throat, giving up the fight the moment contact was made. His eyes fell shut the moment San's fingers touched his skin, some old, easy trust settling into the gesture.
San worked across his cheekbones, unhurried, his thumb moving in small, deliberate passes. "What?" he asked, catching the way Wooyoung watched him, even with his eyes barely open, some quiet, private expression San didn't have a name for.
"Nothing. I'm appreciating you."
"That's suspicious." His hand paused at Wooyoung's forehead, smudging the last of it in with the pad of his thumb.
"Appreciate me by not burning," San said.
"I'll try." The smile widened under his hands, entirely too pleased with itself.
"You won't."
"I said I'll try. It means I love you."
San rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him anyway, curling up despite his best effort to stay unimpressed. "That means nothing coming from you when you're avoiding sunscreen."
"My love is worth at least SPF thirty," Wooyoung said, gasping like he'd been personally wounded by the accusation.
"Fifty," San corrected, capping the bottle with a decisive click.
"Fine. SPF fifty." He tucked it back into the backpack himself, satisfied, and patted the zipper once, like he'd contributed something. "Good."
Wooyoung leaned in quickly and pressed a kiss to his cheek before darting out of reach, already grinning, both hands raised as if he'd earned something significant. San froze mid-motion, hand still hovering near the zipper, caught entirely off guard despite years of this exact thing happening.
"Payment," Wooyoung said.
"For what?" San touched his own cheek, failing completely to look stern.
"For saving my beautiful nose."
Hongjoong walked past as the line shuffled forward again, map tucked safely under his arm now that it had been reclaimed. "Can we save the beautiful nose inside the park now?"
Wooyoung spun around so fast his sunglasses nearly slid clean off again. "Finally!" He was already moving before San could grab his sleeve, and did anyway, catching the back of his shirt just in time to stop him from bolting straight into the family ahead.
"Walk," San said, holding his gaze until Wooyoung settled, some silent negotiation passing between them in half a second.
"Yes, Mom," Wooyoung said, bright and shameless, already laughing at his own joke before it had even fully landed.
Mingi wheezed somewhere behind them. Yunho's laugh carried loud enough that a nearby family turned to look, curious. San closed his eyes for exactly one second, drawing in a slow breath. "Do not start."
"I love when you go Mom Mode." Wooyoung slipped his hand into San's, tugging him toward the gate, fingers warm and certain around his own, already three steps ahead.
"I'm breaking up with you."
"No, you're not."
"No," San admitted, letting himself be pulled forward anyway, matching Wooyoung's pace without really deciding to. "I'm not."
✧ ✧ ✧
The moment they stepped through the turnstiles, the noise doubled, washing over them all at once like stepping into a different climate entirely.
Music drifted from hidden speakers tucked beneath swaying palm trees, bright enough to blend seamlessly with the laughter echoing across the park. Water glittered everywhere, catching the morning light and scattering it like broken glass across every surface. Towering slides twisted overhead in impossible blues and greens, weaving around each other before vanishing into pools below, and somewhere close by a recorded announcement crackled through a loudspeaker, half-drowned out by the general roar of a few hundred people already deep into their day.
Families streamed past from every direction, forcing the eight of them to bunch closer together so no one got swept away in the current of strollers, coolers, and dripping children. A boy sprinted by clutching an inflatable shark nearly as big as he was, his mother chasing after him with sandals in one hand and sunscreen in the other, calling his name with the particular exhaustion of someone who had already done this three times that morning. A gull settled on the roof of a snack stand, eyeing an abandoned basket of fries with real, focused intent, head tilting one way and then the other as it calculated its approach.
Wooyoung stopped so abruptly that San nearly walked into his back. His hand shot out on instinct, catching Wooyoung's waist before either of them stumbled into the family beside them. "Whoa."
San followed his gaze up, past the nearest slide toward the one looming behind it, taller than anything else in the park. "Right?"
"There are so many slides." Wooyoung turned in a slow circle, mouth hanging open, trying and failing to look at everything at once, his sunglasses sliding further back with every turn until they nearly tipped off the back of his head entirely.
Yunho crossed the walkway in two long strides and landed beside him, already pointing at the tallest slide in the park without a shred of hesitation. "We have to do that one first."
Jongho tipped his head back to follow the staircase all the way up, squinting against the sun, and immediately shook his head. "Absolutely not."
"Why?"
"Stairs." He said it like it settled the matter completely, already turning to look for something with fewer of them.
"You're twenty-five."
"I know how many stairs that is."
Wooyoung's eyes darted from the towering blue slide to the lazy river winding beneath a canopy of tropical plants, then to the wave pool crowded with bobbing heads, and farther still toward something none of them could quite identify yet. He grabbed San's sleeve without looking away, fingers curling tight into the fabric. "Oh my god — they have a water playground."
San followed his hand automatically, spotting the structure through a gap in the crowd. "They do."
"And look—" Wooyoung was already pointing somewhere else entirely, spinning half a step to face a new direction. "Racing slides! Cabanas! Is that a surfing thing?"
Across the walkway, Seonghwa had wandered over to one of the oversized park maps mounted beneath a wooden awning, tracing a finger along the printed paths with far more patience than Wooyoung had managed. "Guys?" No one answered. He glanced back to find every head turned toward Wooyoung instead, all of them caught in the same orbit. "Guys."
A fond smile crept over his face anyway, and he turned back to the map without pushing it further, resigned to figuring out the route alone.
Wooyoung looked at San, genuinely stricken. "I don't know where to go first."
"Walk to another slide?" San offered, deadpan, watching the words fail to land the way he intended.
"This is important."
"I'm taking it very seriously." He wasn't, and the twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away entirely.
"I don't believe you."
Hongjoong's voice cut through before Wooyoung could argue further, carrying easily over the noise. "Locker first."
Six groans answered him at once, rising and falling together like a rehearsed chorus. He remained entirely unmoved, already steering the group toward a row of blue lockers lining the shaded wall, one hand raised as if herding cattle that had, once again, refused to cooperate.
✧ ✧ ✧
The locker pavilion ran cooler than the main walkway, industrial fans overhead stirring the heavy air just enough to make it bearable. Damp concrete carried the smell of chlorine, mixed faintly with sunscreen and the rubbery tang of pool floats stacked in a bin near the entrance. Doors slammed open and shut around them in no particular rhythm, a metallic chorus that echoed off the low ceiling, and somewhere nearby a little girl insisted to her unconvinced father that she definitely remembered the locker number, thank you very much. A group of teenagers jostled past with a cooler between them, one wheel squeaking every few feet.
"Forty-two." Hongjoong held up the receipt, tapping it once against his palm like he could will the number into everyone's memory through sheer repetition. "Remember it."
"I got it," Wooyoung said, already wandering off toward a different row entirely, sunglasses slipping loose as he ducked under a low-hanging pipe without seeming to notice it.
Five minutes later, San found him crouched in front of locker seventeen, punching numbers into the keypad with total, unshaken confidence. A small boy stood a few feet away, watching the whole process with the deep suspicion of a child who already knew something was wrong.
"Why won't this one open?"
"Our locker's forty-two."
Wooyoung stared at the panel, then at the little silver number bolted above it, as though the two pieces of information had only just agreed to be in the same room together. "I knew that." He straightened up, entirely unbothered, brushing invisible dust from his knees. "...I forgot."
The boy watching them finally spoke up, small and matter-of-fact. "That's not your locker."
"I know that now," Wooyoung told him, with the wounded dignity of a man who had been personally betrayed by an inanimate object.
Yunho laughed hard enough to lean on Mingi’s shoulder to stay upright, nearly knocking the two of them into a rack of pool noodles. "I don't know how you survive."
"Charm."
"Lies."
"Mostly charm," Wooyoung said with a small shrug, as if the distinction barely mattered.
Hongjoong took him gently by the shoulders and steered him three rows over without another word, the same patient, practiced motion of someone who had done this exact thing more times than he could count. He stopped him in front of the correct door and deliberately tapped the number once. Wooyoung studied it as if it had personally wronged him.
"I know numbers."
"No one's questioning it," San said, already smiling, his arms loosely crossed over his chest as he watched the whole scene unfold.
"They should,” Yeosang said, dropping his empty coffee cup into a nearby bin without breaking stride, not even glancing over.
Once the lock finally gave under Hongjoong's more competent hands, the door swinging open with a metallic clunk, bags started going in — or trying to. Seonghwa crouched down immediately and began stacking shoes at the bottom with practiced efficiency, lining them up by size without thinking, while Hongjoong passed him towels one at a time, neither of them saying a word. It was a small, wordless rhythm, the kind built over years of doing this exact task together at a dozen different pools and beaches, and San watched them work for a moment, struck again by how much it looked like two parents quietly packing six kids for a field trip none of them had asked to go on.
Mingi paused halfway through unpacking his own bag and turned toward San, frowning at the black backpack still slung over his shoulder. "How heavy is your backpack?"
"I don't know."
"It shouldn't make that noise." He mimed lifting something heavy and letting it drop. "Thunk."
"I packed what we might need," San said, already sensing where this was going and deciding not to fight it.
"Define 'might.'" Mingi had already unzipped the main compartment before San could stop him, and started pulling things out one at a time, setting each on the bench like evidence at a trial. "Sunscreen. Reasonable." Another bottle followed, held up for the group to see. "Extra sunscreen."
Yunho leaned over his shoulder to watch, arms braced on his knees. "...Prepared."
"Painkillers. Hydration packets. Wet wipes. Portable charger. Band-Aids. Mini first aid kit." Mingi kept digging, pulling each item free with growing, delighted disbelief, lining them up in a neat row along the bench as if he were building a case.
"Is he expecting war?" Yunho asked.
"You never know," San said simply, reaching over to nudge the row of items back into some kind of order.
Hongjoong, still crouched by the open locker, glanced over at the display and nodded slowly, clearly impressed despite himself. "I respect it."
Jongho picked up one of the electrolyte packets, turning it over to read the label with genuine interest. "These are actually useful."
Yeosang reached into the bag without asking and pulled out a small tube, holding it up between two fingers. "...Hand cream?"
"My hands get dry."
"In July?"
"Sometimes." San reached over and nudged the last few items back into place himself, leaving the bag sitting open on the bench between them.
Mingi zipped it shut with theatrical slowness, handing it back like it held classified government documents rather than sunscreen. "I'm convinced you could survive a natural disaster."
"I like being prepared," San said, slinging it back over one shoulder.
Wooyoung, who had wandered back over at some point during the excavation, smiled as he slipped his hand into San’s without hesitation, swinging their joined hands once between them. "I like that you're prepared." He squeezed once, easy and certain. "So I don't have to be."
The whole group groaned in unison, a ripple of sound that startled the small boy still lingering near the lockers. Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose, dragging his hand down slowly. "There it is."
"Mom Mode," Yunho said solemnly, as if he were delivering a diagnosis. "Started in the parking lot."
"It started when he packed two bottles of sunscreen," Hongjoong corrected.
"Three," San admitted, not looking up from the zipper he was still fussing with.
Every head turned toward him at once, a beat of collective disbelief settling over the group.
"Three?"
"One's spray."
Mingi threw his head back, nearly losing his cap in the process. "He's gone. There is no saving him."
Wooyoung tightened his grip slightly, thumb brushing once over the back of San’s hand. "I think he's perfect."
Heat rushed up the back of San’s neck. He ducked his head, suddenly very interested in the zipper of his own backpack, and Wooyoung’s grin only widened at that, unbearably fond. He glanced down at their joined hands as if noticing them for the first time, then carefully adjusted his grip, threading their fingers together properly instead of just holding on. "Better."
San looked down at their hands — Wooyoung’s fingers warm, a little sticky still from the sunscreen, laced through his own like it was the only place they belonged — and felt something settle low and quiet in his chest, the kind of feeling that didn't need a name because it had been living there for years already. He looked back up, and his smile came easier than breathing.
"Yeah," he said. "Much better."
✧ ✧ ✧
Once the locker was sealed and the key bracelet safely around Hongjoong's wrist, the group drifted back out onto the main walkway, blinking against the brightness after the pavilion's shade. The noise hit again immediately — music, splashing, the distant metallic clatter of a slide gate opening and closing — and they fell into their usual shapes without anyone deciding to, the way a flock resettles after being startled.
Yunho was already pointing at something two attractions away. Jongho walked with his hands in his pockets, unhurried, occasionally steering Mingi away from a wet patch on the concrete without either of them acknowledging it. Yeosang drifted toward the edge of the group, sunglasses catching the light, watching the crowd the way other people watched television. Seonghwa kept pace beside Hongjoong, tote bag swinging gently against his hip, already scanning the path ahead for anything anyone might need before they knew they needed it.
San had just started wondering where Wooyoung had gotten to — a familiar, low-grade alertness he'd stopped noticing he carried — when a voice cut through the noise from somewhere off to the left.
"Sannie!"
He turned to find Wooyoung outside the gift shop, waving both arms overhead as if he were flagging down a plane that had already passed. A woman nearby glanced over, amused, then went back to reapplying sunscreen on a toddler who did not want to hold still.
"I found something!"
"I'm sure you did," San murmured, already changing direction.
"You should go," Seonghwa said, already smiling, not even looking up from the map he was refolding along its original creases. "Before he buys it."
"Or climbs it," Hongjoong added, gaze still fixed on the little printed icons scattered across the park layout.
"I wasn't going to climb anything!" Wooyoung shouted from twenty feet away, loud enough that a family walking past actually paused. Every head in the group turned toward him at once. He considered the accusation for a beat, visibly recalibrating. "...Probably."
Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose again, the same gesture from ten minutes earlier, as it lived permanently on standby. San just laughed and picked up his pace toward the shop.
The gift shop sat beneath a striped awning, merchandise spilling out onto wooden display racks — rows of sunglasses spinning slowly on a rotating stand, inflatable animals hanging from hooks overhead and swaying every time someone brushed past them, a cardboard cutout of a cartoon dolphin advertising a two-for-one deal on flip-flops. Somewhere inside, a bell chimed as the door opened and closed, and a cashier laughed at something a customer said, the sound spilling out into the walkway along with a gust of air-conditioning.
By the time San reached him, Wooyoung was standing in front of an enormous inflatable shark, both arms wrapped around it as if he were in the middle of making a formal introduction. The thing was absurd — cartoonishly oversized, its grin stretched wide enough that the nose alone nearly reached San’s shoulder, two rows of triangular felt teeth stitched on with more enthusiasm than precision.
"We need him."
"Need is a strong word." San reached out and flicked one of the plastic fins, which wobbled unconvincingly.
"Look at him."
"I am." He tilted his head, considering it properly. "He's certainly large."
"He's magnificent."
Yunho wandered over without any urgency, studying the shark with the same serious expression he might give an actual decision. "His name should be Bruce."
"Bruce?" Mingi, arriving a beat later, frowned like the name personally offended him.
"He looks like a Bruce."
Jongho tilted his head, weighing the claim with real consideration, arms still crossed. "...He actually does."
"Where would we even put him?" San asked and watched the logic land on Wooyoung’s face in real time, the enthusiasm dimming by degrees of carefulness.
"...That's a good point." He set the shark back against the rack with visible reluctance, patting its head once like he was apologizing to it, and let his attention drift toward the rest of the display instead — a rack of beach towels, a shelf of waterproof phone pouches shaped like little pool floats, a bin of plush dolphins with embroidered sunglasses.
San’s gaze wandered too, past all of it, until it landed on something hanging slightly apart from the rest of the merchandise, almost hidden behind a rack of postcards. A floppy sun hat, bright yellow, the brim so wide it looked capable of shading a small picnic table on its own. Tiny embroidered suns circled the edge, each one wearing a small stitched smile, and across the front in cheerful orange letters:
SUN'S OUT, FUN'S OUT.
He glanced back at Wooyoung, who had moved on to trying to convince Mingi that Bruce deserved visitation rights even if he couldn't come home with them, and made his decision without much deliberation at all.
"Wait here."
"Okay."Wooyoung didn't even look over, already deep in negotiations, one hand still resting on the shark's fin like he hadn't quite let go of the idea.
San slipped inside, the bell chiming over the door, the air-conditioning raising goosebumps along his arms after the heat outside. He paid quickly, waved off the cashier's offer of a bigger bag, and stepped back out with the hat folded carefully into something small enough to hide behind his back.
"I got you something."
Wooyoung's whole face lit up, shark forgotten instantly. "For me?"
"Guess."
"A shark?"
"No."
"A dolphin?" His eyes were already narrowing, calculating.
"No." San shifted the bag slightly, enjoying this more than he probably should have.
"Cotton candy? A lifetime supply of chicken?"
"No, and no." San finally pulled the hat free, holding it out with both hands like a small, ridiculous offering.
For one long second, nobody said anything. Wooyoung stared at it, then at San, then back at the hat, his expression cycling through several stages of betrayal. "Absolutely not."
"It protects your face.”
"It's enormous."
"The sun would apologize after seeing you in it," San said, holding it out patiently, unmoved.
Behind them, Mingi had already doubled over laughing, one hand braced on his knee. "Oh, my god."
"It gets bigger every time I look at it," Jongho said, tilting his head slightly, as if the angle might change something.
"It has presence," Yeosang offered, arriving just in time to deliver the verdict and nothing more.
"I hate all of you," Wooyoung informed the group at large, though he made no move to walk away.
Seonghwa stepped forward before anyone else could pile on. "May I?" San handed it over without question, and Seonghwa settled it carefully on his own head, adjusting it once until the brim drooped low over one eye at what could only be called a deliberately rakish angle. He turned toward Hongjoong, chin lifted. "Well?"
Hongjoong looked him over slowly, and a smile spread across his face despite the clear attempt to remain neutral. "Cute."
"I knew it." Seonghwa lifted it off and placed it gently on Wooyoung's head instead, stepping close enough to straighten the brim with both hands until it shaded his face properly, the way he might have fussed over a scarf or a collar. "There. If I can wear it, you can wear it."
Wooyoung let out the most theatrical sigh of the morning, long and put-upon, but didn't take it off. "Fine."
The moment he looked up from under the brim, the whole group lost it — even a couple of strangers walking past slowed down, smiling at whatever they'd just witnessed. San felt his own grin spread before he could stop it, something unguarded slipping through.
"You look cute."
A beat of silence settled over the group, just long enough for Wooyoung to blink at him, surprised. "Really?"
"I meant the hat," San said, a half second too late to be convincing.
"No, you didn’t." The grin was already climbing back onto Wooyoung’s face, delighted and merciless.
Yunho pointed so hard he nearly lost his balance, stumbling half a step sideways. "HE SAID CUTE!"
Hongjoong closed his eyes, drawing in a long breath as if he were praying for patience. "We've been here twenty-three minutes."
Wooyoung stepped in close enough that only San could hear him, fingers brushing lightly against the brim of the hat. "I was already going to wear it." His voice dropped, softer now, the teasing edge falling away. "You bought it for me." He bumped their shoulders together, unhurried. "So obviously I was going to wear it."
Something settled warm and certain under San’s ribs, quiet as the moment right before falling asleep. He didn't say anything right away — just let it sit there, familiar, unremarkable, as the truest things always were.
Then Wooyoung caught his wrist, already pulling. "Come on!"
"I thought you wanted the lazy river."
"I changed my mind. Just now." And he was already gone, weaving into the crowd, the yellow brim bouncing wildly and catching the sun every few steps, the words stitched across the front flashing bright each time it tipped back.
San hitched his backpack higher on one shoulder and followed the flash of yellow through the crowd, same as he always did.
✧ ✧ ✧