#oglwl

1:57 joonyoung: where tf r u 1:57 joonyoung: kim sunggyu 1:57 joonyoung: srsly man where the hell r u we wont be mad if u ditched us just reply pls 1:57 joonyoung: yong junhyung is about to call the fucking police where the fucking hell r u 1:58 joonyoung: if ur not dead when we find u ur gonna be 1:58 joonyoung: kim fucking sunggyu 1:58 joonyoung: im gonna smoke all over ur ethics notes 1:58 joonyoung: r u fucking dead 2:00 joonyoung: fucking reply u fucking asshole u had two fucking shots how wasted r u 2:01 joonyoung: r u actually dead 2:01 joonyoung: if ur not dead can u pls reply

for the record, sunggyu knows he’s drunk.

however, this self-awareness, he’s fairly sure, means that he can’t be as drunk as he thinks he is because he’s still sober enough to know how drunk he is which isn’t very drunk just slightly drunk. he also still has more than enough motor skills to have gotten to the curb in front of the club joonyoung had dragged him and junhyung into and then dragged him and junhyung out of, thrown his hand out, and hailed a taxi. surely, this means sunggyu is comfortably drunk at best.

he even - he fucking even - remembers woohyun’s address and is able to clearly and perfectly recite it by memory out for the cab driver upon request.

there’s a strange vibration under his butt and he wonders if this is one of those special expensive cabs that he accidentally got into - one with massage pads built into the seats. he frowns, looking around in the darkness for the remote, before he slaps his hand down around the seat itself and realizes that the vibration is coming from his jeans and not the cab. he blinks, pulling out his phone and frowning deeper when he realizes this is the culprit for why he can’t enjoy the ride to woohyun’s house in peace.

sunggyu shuts off the sound and the vibrations, and then slips his phone back into his pocket, patting it in contentedly. now there’s silence and stillness, and he can enjoy the passing lights of seoul through the window without interruptions.

when the roads begin to look familiar, sunggyu’s stomach grumbles and he remembers that he hadn’t eaten dinner because joonyoung had said that dinner would slow down the alcohol. he remembers eating probably a total of five mints from somewhere near the bar, and other than that, he hasn’t eaten since after his last class today.

that’s all okay, though, because woohyun can cook, and there is also a kitchen in woohyun’s house where woohyun can cook and there is food in woohyun’s refrigerator that woohyun can cook with using his kitchen. sunggyu starts humming the last song that had blasted into his ears at the club under his breath at the thought of woohyun’s fried rice, covered in grease, salt and eggs.

the cab stops right in front of the small gate that encloses off the corner woohyun’s house is in, and sunggyu rolls himself out onto the steps after meticulously counting the right amount of cash off for the driver - another sure sign, he thinks proudly, that he isn’t as drunk as joonyoung said he was.

sunggyu presses the button on the gate and hoists himself up to stick his face into the intercom camera. “woohyun,” he drags out the last syllable as long as his breath will let him. “nam woohyun - open up - i need fried rice - “

in the distance, he sees the front door open slowly, and a head sticks out before the rest of woohyun’s body follows it. there’s just enough light from the nearby streetlamps to show woohyun’s expression, eyes squinting in sunggyu’s direction for a moment before he’s suddenly running towards the gate and fumbling to open it.

woohyun’s hair doesn’t look like he was sleeping, but his clothes clearly announce that he’s quite close to doing so - a t-shirt and sweatpants, and flip-flops on his feet that don’t look like they’re his. sunggyu stares at them, at the pink and purple flowering pattern on the bands of the sandals and the way the soles only go to half of woohyun’s feet - maybe they’re his mother’s.

“hyung,” woohyun catches sunggyu by the forearm and wraps it around his neck as pulls sunggyu inside. sunggyu feels a pressure lifting from the back of his jeans, followed by a soft thump. probably the gate snapping as woohyun closes it again. “what are you doing here?”

“fried rice,” sunggyu says because that should be obvious.

he feels woohyun’s breath puff against his cheek, warm and stuttered like he’s laughing at sunggyu, but there’s no sign of laughter in his voice when he speaks again - only amusement, “okay. i thought you were going out with your friends tonight, though.”

woohyun opens the front door and steadies sunggyu inside, letting him lean his cheek against the cool, white wall of the entryway as woohyun closes and locks the door up again. “did,” sunggyu says. “‘m a little drunk now, so. probably. should eat.”

“probably,” woohyun says, taking sunggyu’s arm again, but this time he wraps his own arm around sunggyu’s waist as well. sunggyu leans into woohyun’s side, head resting slightly on woohyun’s shoulder as the third year guides sunggyu into the kitchen and pulls him down gently to sit at the table. “do your friends know you’re here?”

sunggyu thinks.

he frowns.

he didn’t tell joonyoung or junhyung that he came to woohyun’s house, but really, they’ll most likely figure it out. both of them, after all, are in the same university as sunggyu - the top rated university in the country - so if they can’t even deduce this, then honestly sunggyu doesn’t think they should have been accepted.

“yeah,” sunggyu says, eventually.

the expression in woohyun’s eyes is odd right then - something between further amusement and faint, uncertain concern, but it turns into something warm and bright instead, something that makes sunggyu’s stomach flutter. sunggyu is fairly sure, though, that that’s just anticipation for fried rice now that he’s seated and staring right at the stove.

“so,” woohyun steps away from sunggyu and towards the refrigerator. “fried rice?”

“two eggs, please,” sunggyu says, folding his arms on the table and pillowing his head on them. “if you love me, two eggs.”

woohyun’s shoulders shake slightly as he takes out a large tupperware filled with rice from the refrigerator along with an already-opened can of ham, an unopened can of tuna, and a tub of kimchi. when he pulls out the eggs, he turns around to face sunggyu with mock solemnity, showing him the two in his palm and sunggyu gives him a sleepy thumbs up.

once everything has been cut and thrown into the pan, the sizzling making sunggyu’s stomach actually rumble out loud, woohyun is laying out a spoon, paper towel and a glass of water on the table. sunggyu watches woohyun move around the kitchen. most likely, he’d showered an hour or two before sunggyu had arrived. woohyun’s hair looks fresh and soft around his face, and sunggyu knows what it’d feel like sliding through his fingers. he hasn’t seen woohyun since school started for both of them, after all.

“woohyun,” sunggyu says, when the alpha is peering into the pan, lowering the heat. woohyun glances at the sound of his name, crossing over to stand in front of him. sunggyu points to the seat across from him at the table, and woohyun sits down, mild confusion on his face. sunggyu then gets up onto his knees on the chair and reaches over the table, carding the tips of his fingers lightly through woohyun’s hair and it’s exactly as soft and silky as he remembers.

woohyun’s face breaks into a smile so large that sunggyu almost wants to tell him to shut up but sunggyu thinks it’s a quite nice smile, and woohyun’s hair is in exceptional condition today, and woohyun is giving sunggyu two eggs because he loves him, so sunggyu supposes that he’ll let it slide just for tonight.

a loud pop comes from the stove, and woohyun catches sunggyu’s fingers from his hair with his own hand, threading their fingers together for a short moment before he stands up and moves to turn off the gas and flip the rice around a few times. “we’re good, it didn’t burn,” woohyun says, looking at sunggyu with laughter in his eyes.

“if it burned,” sunggyu says, grabbing the spoon woohyun had placed in front of him, “i’d kill you.”

woohyun does laugh aloud at that, quietly with his eyes forming crescents. he starts rummaging in the cabinets for a bowl, and sunggyu holds his spoon with both hands, placing the head near his mouth. he takes a deep breath and begins singing nell’s latest song - just released two days ago but sunggyu would be damned if he didn’t already know the entire thing, the entire album actually, by heart, and -

sunggyu falls silent the second woohyun’s fingers wrap around his wrist, pulling the spoon down gently away from sunggyu’s mouth and leaning in close. woohyun’s face is so, so, so, so near sunggyu’s and he can count woohyun’s eyelashes at this proximity - he can see the way some of the strands of hair of woohyun’s bangs curl slightly towards his forehead. “hyung,” woohyun murmurs with an apologetic, sheepish smile, his breath fanning over sunggyu’s lips. “my parents are asleep, so maybe sing tomorrow?”

sunggyu’s brain comes to a mildly embarrassing halt right then for whatever reason, so he can only nod dumbly as woohyun places the bowl piled high with fried rice in front of sunggyu. he notices woohyun is putting the other half of the pan’s contents into a container, and he has half a mind to ask why woohyun isn’t also eating, but the food in front of him smells too good, and then sunggyu is too preoccupied shoveling everything into his mouth to go through with the question.

he finishes the food probably faster than is good for his digestive system, pushing the bowl out for woohyun to take and place in the sink. woohyun points at the water, and sunggyu frowns for a moment, but he concedes and downs the entire glass with effort because he isn’t too drunk - like he’s stated before - so he still has the awareness of mind to know that it’ll be a hard morning if he doesn’t hydrate properly.

sunggyu hears the sink run shortly, the clang of the pan being placed in there along with the spatula, spoon, and glass, and then the sound of the water stops. “ready for bed?” woohyun asks, taking sunggyu’s hands and pulling him to his feet. the kitchen spins slightly, but it rights itself fairly well once sunggyu squints and lets woohyun wrap his arm around his waist again.

“are we going to fuck?” sunggyu says, once woohyun has turned off all the lights and the alpha is half-dragging him up the stairs through the darkness. sunggyu nearly misses more than one step, but woohyun pulls him onto the right one before sunggyu has a chance to trip on any of them.

woohyun hums, that low, musical chuckle at the back of his throat again - the sound that never fails to induce all of sunggyu’s homicidal tendencies. just like now - right now - sunggyu just wants woohyun to fall backwards and roll down the stairs but that would be fairly tricky to maneuver without sunggyu also falling backwards on the stairs, and also, sunggyu sort of depends on woohyun to keep him upright because it’s getting harder and harder to stand by the second. “do you want to fuck?” woohyun laughs softly.

sunggyu thinks about that. “do you want to fuck?” he ends up echoing, because really, he thinks he’s down for anything right now as long as woohyun does all the work. he’s sleepy - extremely sleepy, his eyes are just moments away from closing - but he also hasn’t seen woohyun in weeks, which is actually pretty pathetic because sunggyu is a university student at the country’s top-rated school, not a pining, middle school girl.

they get to the second floor, and woohyun steers sunggyu into his room, closing the door with his foot, before letting sunggyu collapse himself, side-down, onto woohyun’s bed - far more familiar than the bed sunggyu has been sleeping on in his new apartment for the past month or so now. “i do,” woohyun says simply, sitting down on the edge of the mattress and fixing his gaze down to meet sunggyu’s. “but - i also think you’re about two seconds from passing out on me, and - “ he smiles faintly “ - you smell like soju and kimchi, right now, hyung.”

“wrong,” sunggyu mutters, “i also smell like joonyoung’s cigarettes.”

woohyun grins, letting sunggyu lace his fingers with woohyun’s. “true,” the alpha says. “you want something cleaner to sleep in then?”

sunggyu rolls onto his back and sighs. “please.” he lets go of woohyun’s hand so the third year can rummage around in his closet. a soft, large cotton shirt lands on sunggyu’s face along with a pair of dark boxer shorts.

the omega shucks everything off - again, mobile skills still clearly working without a hitch - and pulls on the t-shirt and boxers. his hair probably still smells like smoke and alcohol, and his mouth definitely still tastes like fried rice and soju, but at least when he curls into himself to sleep, he’ll smell woohyun in every direction.

“when do you want me to set the alarm?” woohyun asks, as sunggyu slips himself under the covers. the moment his head hits the pillow, his eyelids are so heavy, and his mind is suddenly so foggy that he just waves his hand absently at woohyun. sunggyu has nowhere to be tomorrow anyway - it’s saturday, and the cab ride back to campus isn’t that far.

he falls asleep so quickly, he doesn’t even remember when woohyun slid into bed beside him.

07:03 woohyunie: hey 07:03 woohyunie: i left my wallet at home do u guys have cash 07:05 howonie: yeah 07:06: woohyunie: can i borrow some 07:06 howonie: no 07:07 sungyeolie: if i say yes will u tell your crush from hell not to be on my ass for getting a c 07:08 woohyunie: sure 07:10 howonie: he’s lying 07:11 sungyeolie: i kno but he’s also my last dying hope not to be murdered by the eyeless demon of 3a 07:14 woohyunie: :) i’ll be at the gate waiting for payment 07:14 sungyeolie: fuck off

every friday there’s a bake sale during all lunch periods. all of the school’s sports teams and other extracurricular clubs and organizations take turns picking slots throughout the year to raise money for themselves - uniforms, group trips, and donations for the clubs oriented to community service. woohyun’s lunch period just so happens to be the last lunch period of the day, and also the period before his calculus class.

today, the girl’s swim team is holding their bake sale, which explains why the makeshift counter at the front of the cafeteria is constantly surrounded by a crowd throughout the entire period and even between bells. woohyun has heard from upperclassmen that the two best bake sales of the year are always either of the swim teams or the school choir. the swim teams are the largest in the area, meaning the sheer quantity and variety of food being sold is already enough to gather long lines.

woohyun only manages to be at the front because the class he has before lunch always lets out a fair five minutes before the bell actually rings. he buys lemonade, a frosted doughnut, and a brownie, wraps and loads the two baked goods into napkins, and carts off the lemonade after handing over sungyeol’s money. he pockets the change because sungyeol still owed him from last week anyway, but woohyun is a good friend so he hadn’t hounded after him for the money.

it’s better like this usually anyway - it means sungyeol owes him money and a favor.  

howon and sungyeol are already at their usual table, unpacking their lunches when woohyun sits down on howon’s remaining side and begins doing the same. “for us? you shouldn’t have,” howon says, reaching out for the brownie before woohyun slaps his hand with his water bottle.

“he doesn’t feed his friends, howon,” sungyeol says through a mouthful of bread and ham, “only math nerd beta cougars.”

“wrong,” woohyun takes the brownie that howon had eyed and bites half straight off. “i also feed myself.” he smiles with his cheeks full of chocolate at howon’s disgusted look and dodges the piece of napkin sungyeol throws at his face. the brownie really is good, moist and not too sweet, and woohyun sets it aside while he takes out one of the extra plastic bags he always has in his lunchbox to put in the wrapped doughnut.

“you know,” sungyeol says, “the only reason i’m helping you get his ass is that maybe if he’s getting laid, he’ll be too busy to torture me.”

“you mean he’ll be too busy to kill you for hitting on his brother,” howon snorts, taking a long swig out of woohyun’s lemonade. “his little brother. in middle school.”

sungyeol waves a cracker in howon’s face. “yeah, but he’s seven months younger than us. i asked him when his birthday is when sunggyu-hyung was in the bathroom. meanwhile,” he squints at woohyun, “the eyeless demon of 3-a is two years older than you.”

woohyun leisurely finishes chewing his fourth to last spoonful of fried rice. “if someone hears you saying that out loud and it gets back to him,” he says smoothly, “i can’t prevent your death.”

“there are a total of like four third years in this entire lunch,” sungyeol says dismissively, “and they all always sit outside. you’re missing the point.”

“age is but a number,” woohyun says in a mock dreamy voice that has howon looking so revolted that he makes a grab for woohyun’s brownie before woohyun can react or care. he has change after all - enough to buy him two more brownies on his way out of the cafeteria. “the only numbers sunggyu-hyung cares about anyway are the ninety-nine i got on tuesday’s test and the seventy-four you got on yesterday’s quiz.”

“how the fuck - “ sungyeol starts, before cutting off abruptly and looking slowly to howon, face still stuffed with brownie.

howon swallows the contents of his mouth, and says with a grin that’s both shitty as fuck but also mildly guilty, “no one is judging. we are a judgment-free friend group, and - “

“don’t bother,” sungyeol says with narrowed eyes and a low voice, “coming to my house to get your sneakers today. they are now prisoners of war.”

“i need those to dance - what the fuck, sungyeol,” howon whines as the teachers in charge of supervising the cafeteria begin calling out for the five minute mark before the bell rings. he scowls over at woohyun, as if it’s woohyun’s fault that howon had gleefully come to him yesterday after class, bragging about how he had gotten the highest grade on the algebra quiz and sungyeol had fallen back down to the mid-tier scraps after his extreme but quick rise to the low nineties range with sunggyu’s tutoring.

“i let you have the rest of the brownie,” woohyun shrugs as howon continues to glare at him while he packs up his lunchbox and backpack. “have fun in math, losers,” he thumps the backs of both their heads, before jogging off to the cafeteria’s exit before they can scramble back and reach for him.

he always gets the books that he needs for calculus before lunch so that he can go straight to class once the bell rings and be as early as possible because sunggyu is always incredibly early. woohyun knows, through dongwoo and also through detailed observation that someone of his intelligence only is capable of, that sunggyu’s class before math is history and the hallway for that is directly opposite.

sure enough, when woohyun arrives, the teacher isn’t even in yet, and the only desk occupied is the leftmost one in the second row - right beside woohyun’s.

sunggyu already has his notebook, homework, calculator, and pencil out, leaned back in his seat, thumb padding over his phone as he drinks water from a bottle with his other hand. he looks up once when he hears woohyun step into the classroom, and then back down to his phone as woohyun makes his way to his seat.

he’s about to dig the doughnut out of his lunchbox when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, and pulls it out.

13:51 sungyeolie: don’t forget our deal or i’ll kill u

woohyun rolls his eyes and stuffs his phone back into his pants, pulling the doughnut out the rest of the way and taking a deep breath before he turns around and says, brightly, “sunbaenim.”

sunggyu’s head turns at the same rate of a snail making its way uphill. woohyun has seen the whites of the older boy’s eyes a total of two times in the entire two months they’ve been in the same math class, but dongwoo assures woohyun that means that sunggyu likes him. woohyun thinks that dongwoo probably only thinks that sunggyu’s eyes disappear when he laughs and not also when he glares.

“you got a ninety-nine on tuesday’s test,” sunggyu says testily, pencil tapping at the edge of his notebook, “i know.”

woohyun blinks. “uh - yeah, i did - but - uh, here.” he places the napkin with the doughnut on sunggyu’s desk.

when a full thirty seconds pass in complete silence with sunggyu staring at the doughnut, then at woohyun, and then back at the doughnut, woohyun says, “it’s a doughnut. and i didn’t poison it.”

sunggyu squints at woohyun one last time before breaking off a section of the doughnut and stuffing it into his mouth. his expression evens out from suspicious to appraising as he finishes half of it in less than ten seconds. woohyun takes advantage of sunggyu being preoccupied with the seemingly surprisingly good doughnut and asks then, “d’you want to do that big problem set for monday together this weekend? i already have half of it done but then i got stuck.”

the third year polishes off the remainder of the doughnut and then wipes his fingers neatly on the napkin. he takes a drink from his bottle of water and regards woohyun thoughtfully as he screws the cap back on. “you have eighteen?” sunggyu says in a low voice, and woohyun has to bite the insides of his cheeks to stop from laughing at how conspicuous sunggyu is  making himself sound just asking for the answers to math homework.

“yeah,” woohyun says.

sunggyu’s eyes dart to the door as the teacher comes in with a few students also filing in behind her. “fine,” he says finally, and turns back quickly to face the front.

woohyun’s jaw actually aches with the effort of holding back the grin that is begging to pull the corners of his lips as far as they can go. he takes out his phone and offers it hesitantly towards sunggyu. “i don’t have your number, sunbaenim. i can text you my address after class, unless you want to do it at yours.”

sunggyu takes woohyun’s phone and gives his own to woohyun. his wallpaper is the album cover of what woohyun supposes to be some band. “we can do it at yours,” sunggyu says, “my parents don’t want anyone over when they aren’t home and you can’t drive yet.”

“the subway exists,” woohyun says cheerfully, and sunggyu looks up, something between irritation and almost amusement in his eyes.

sunggyu hands back woohyun’s phone and grabs his out of woohyun’s hand. “you’d better have eighteen right,” he mutters in what is probably supposed to be a threatening voice, but for some reason, it just makes woohyun’s stomach fill with the same fluttering feeling he felt when sunggyu glowered at him from across the chalkboard the first time they ever spoke to each other - the day woohyun had told him he derived incorrectly during the first week of school.

woohyun pockets his phone and spends the rest of the class - the rest of the day - floating.

he’s so ecstatic that he almost forgets, and the bell rings right when he remembers. he barely manages to stand when sunggyu does, tapping him on the arm as the older boy begins packing up. sunggyu turns, blinking in anticipation. “sungyeol got a seventy-four on the quiz,” woohyun says, nodding sadly, watching as sunggyu comprehends this information and the expression on his face goes from blank to, what woohyun can only describe as, the gaze of a predator.

“i’ll see you on saturday, sunbaenim,” woohyun calls out lightly as sunggyu storms out of the classroom, visibly beelining towards the hallway with the first years’ lockers.