#woosan fluff

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You knew you were the addition to the relationship—San and Wooyoung had been dating for a long while before they met you, and it took another few years for them to ask you to join their relationship. After crushing on the two of them for so long, you had leapt at the chance to.

At first, you were just happy to be there—to have them smile at you sweetly, hold your hand, and press you into the sheets so well. But as time passed, it felt like being there was all you had to be happy about.

Sometimes, you wonder if you had just misconstrued the whole thing. Maybe they just wanted a roommate they could fool around with. Or you’re just reading too much into it. It’s only been six months since you were invited into the relationship.

As you’re contemplating your relationship with the two, your boyfriends stand. You only notice because of the weight leaving your body. “Hey, babe, Sannie and I are going to the bedroom, okay?”

“Oh– is there anything I can do too?” The desperation in your voice is evident, and you hate that it is. San’s eyes soften but both he and Wooyoung chuckle. Not meanly, but not kindly.

“Not today. Enjoy the movie.”

They each drop a kiss on the top of your head, and just like that, you watch them slip right through your fingers again.

You do your best to sit there and not feel upset; you try, but the pinch in your heart doesn’t go away. They’ve never been so outwardly…dismissive of you, and you’ve had quite enough of it. After a long five minutes of unhappy thoughts swirling around your head, you stand. You’re not sitting around and letting yourself feel like the second (or third) fiddle.

You blink back the angry tears threatening to fall as you pull on your sweatshirt and search for your phone, only to remember you left it on the bedside table. You’re not about to barge in on and grab it so you settle with your keys. You won’t be out for too long anyway.

As you leave the apartment, you do your best to close the door behind you as quietly as possible. The crisp fall air clears your mind, and you can think properly about your relationship. You just cannot allow yourself to continue to hurt like this. They’re a package deal to you and will come hand-in-hand with you in your life. You may love them, and they may be fond of you, but in the end, you’re just a plus one. 

The realisation hits you like a ton of bricks, and you clap a hand over your mouth to muffle the sob that escapes. It hurts you deeply, and you don’t want it to be true. You want to believe they need you just as much as you need them, although you know the thought is futile.

You shudder as you finally let your sobs calm down, and your heart returns to a normal pace. You can’t stay there much longer if you don’t want to lose yourself. As you head back to the apartment, you hurriedly wipe your eyes and clear your throat, unwilling for San and Wooyoung to see the state you’re in.

But that proves unnecessary—when you walk back in, San is sitting on the couch, a new movie is on the screen, and Wooyoung is prepping dinner. A quick glance at the clock tells you that you’ve been gone for about an hour and a half. Your blood boils as you realise they hardly noticed your disappearance, but you force it back to your gut. Blowing up now would be counter-productive.

Your phone is right where you left it, but as you try to escape, San calls out for you, “Oh, YN. Woo and I wanted to ask…” Your breath catches in your throat, hoping for something. “Do you want to join us next time?”

It takes all of your willpower not to laugh. “No, I don’t think I will.” Such a tone of mockery had never left your mouth directed at them before, and you snap your mouth shut before you say something else. San’s eyebrow rises high into his hairline.

You hear Wooyoung chuckle from the kitchen. “That’s fine. We have more fun without you anyway.”

And you know, deep down, he didn’t mean it maliciously. Wooyoung doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. He was just trying to be funny and lighten the mood from the tension he had heard in your voice. But he didn’t know he (and San) was the cause of the stress, and all he does is relight the anger in your gut.

“Oh, so I’ve realised,” you mutter, and this time, San’s other brow raises, and he interrupts.

“What do you mean by that?” He moves to cross his arms, and you scoff.

“I’m sure you know damn well what I mean, Choi San. I get it. You guys have been dating for…longer than you’ve known me. It’s understandable you guys sometimes just want to be together without me.” You pause to take a breath, and San looks just about constipated. “But…I genuinely cannot remember the last time the three of us went on a date or included me in anything other than just sex. And even that, once in a while. What is the point of me being here?”

“Why didn’t you just talk to us?” Wooyoung asks, having moved from the kitchen to stand in the doorway. His brows are furrowed, and he looks so confused that you almost want to forget your argument. But it’s gone too far already, and words won’t stop pouring out of your mouth.

“You would rethink your already comfortable relationship for me? Don’t be silly.” You cut off Wooyoung’s attempted argument. “Maybe you would’ve thought about it, but come on. I’m me. I’ve known you guys for four years; you’ve been dating for seven. I asked to join you guys all the damn time, but all I got was getting brushed off. Forgive me for not having the confidence to confront you two.”

You run your hand through your hair, blinking back your tears. “I can’t imagine this relationship without you guys, but to you two? I’m just an afterthought,” you state, shaking your head.

Before your soft heart gets the better of you and you fall to your knees and take it all back, you turn right back out the door, your phone clutched in your hands this time. Wooyoung and San make no move to go after you, and it hurts more than it should.

You’re not in the mood to walk and wallow, so you sit in the parking garage, ordering a taxi. As you wait for your ride, you hear footsteps thundering up to you, and you know what’s coming.

“Are you actually leaving?” San’s voice comes from behind you, a tightness to it you haven’t heard before.

You keep your eyes forward and nod. “Yes. I need some time to myself. I…I won’t leave forever, at least not for now. I don’t want to give us up, but I need time to rest my heart. And you guys need time to process, I’m sure.”

The taxi you called is pulling up now, and you stand. After hesitating, you turn around and wrap your arms around San’s waist. There’s no wait on his side; his warm and strong arms come around your shoulders to squeeze you gently. Your eyes are shut tightly, knowing that if you open them, you’ll want to go right back up to the apartment.

“Tell Wooyoung I said ‘sorry’,” you manage to choke out, and you can practically hear San’s melancholic smile.

“You have nothing to apologise for, but I will if it makes you feel better. The only reason he didn’t come down is because he didn’t want to overwhelm you.” San sighs, running a hand through his hair. “For whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry we’ve made you feel so alone. It was never our intention, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that it happened.”

You sometimes wish San wasn’t so sweet and lovely and perfect. And you sure wish Wooyoung didn’t feel as strongly as he did. If they cared less, it would’ve made your hurt and betrayal less sharp in your chest. But you don’t want them to be guilty, and you don’t want Wooyoung to cry.

“I…won’t be gone for long,” is all you have left to say to San before you cram yourself into the taxi, and will your tears to not fall until you get into the safety of your apartment that doesn’t even feel like home.

As soon as you reach your apartment, you collapse to your knees and cry. With every sob, your chest heaves and your throat aches. But you’re finally able to let out all your hurt, and after an hour or so, you feel as refreshed as you can be. You hope it will work out in the end for your sake and theirs.

—

You sink into the familiar comfort of your couch, a sigh escaping your lips as the silence of your apartment envelops you. It's been two weeks since the tearful confrontation with San and Wooyoung, two weeks since you've allowed yourself to feel the full weight of your emotions. The initial relief of expressing your pent-up frustrations has given way to a dull ache of longing and uncertainty.

Days turn into nights, and the silence stretches, punctuated only by the occasional text message from San and Wooyoung, their words a mix of apologies, reassurance, and pleas for you to come back. You read and reread their messages, your heart torn between the desire to run back into their arms and the fear of being hurt again.

Yeosang, your closest friend, becomes your lifeline during this time, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the storm of your emotions. He listens patiently as you pour out your doubts and fears, offering his unwavering support and gentle guidance. "They miss you, you know," he often reminds you softly, his eyes reflecting a deep understanding of your inner turmoil.

"I miss them too," you admit, your voice barely a whisper. "But what if it's not enough? What if we can't bridge the gap that's grown between us?"

Yeosang squeezes your hand reassuringly. "You won't know until you try. They're willing to work on things, YN. Don't let your fear rob you of a chance at happiness."

His words echo in your mind, a constant reminder that you can't stay hidden forever. You need to confront your fears, to have that difficult conversation, and to decide whether the love you share is strong enough to overcome the challenges you face.

As the days pass, you find yourself slowly emerging from the cocoon of your self-imposed isolation. You start venturing out, meeting friends for coffee, taking walks in the park, trying to rediscover a sense of normalcy amidst the chaos of your emotions.

But the longing for San and Wooyoung never truly fades. It lingers in the quiet moments, in the empty spaces beside you on the couch, in the memories that flood your mind when you least expect them.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you call Yeosang, asking him to meet up with you for coffee so that you can figure out how to approach your relationship with San and Wooyoung. He agrees readily, and promises to set aside some time at lunch tomorrow to hear you out.

“You miss them, too.” You blink at Yeosang’s statement, before heaving a sigh and taking a sip of your drink. As usual, he doesn’t waste time with small talk and just starts with the point of the meet-up. “You’re putting off this discussion for far too long, YN.”

And he’s right, as he usually is. It’s been about two weeks since the breakdown, and you’ve managed to avoid most attempts at reaching you, placating them with a ‘soon’ whenever they text you to ask. But you’re a little too scared to reopen the conversation. What if they hate you and don’t want you anymore?

“They don’t hate you,” Yeosang interrupts your spiralling with an all-knowing look. You swear he can read your mind, and he swears you’re just easy to read. “You both just need to have a long conversation. Of course, it may not work out properly, but if not, they need to know it for future reference.”

You bite your lip, sighing like the weight of the world rests upon your shoulders. “Stop being so smart, okay? I know I should. I’m just…I don’t know how to start.”

Yeosang raises an eyebrow. “First, you should set up a date to talk. I recommend calling them.” He easily dodges your slap. “Seriously, YN. I can’t tell you what to say. Just go talk to them properly. They’re not gonna be unreasonable. They like you.”

If you sighed anymore, Yeosang would probably smack you himself. “Fine. I’ll call them tomorrow.” Yeosang narrows his eyes, and you know he’s seen right through your lie.

“Call them now. I won’t bother you or be loud.”

You start to whine, but Yeosang fixes you with such a glare that you pull out your phone begrudgingly. Your hands tremble as you dial Wooyoung's number, knowing San would probably be at work right now. The phone rings once, twice, and your heart squeezes in hope and disappointment that he hasn’t picked up yet.

You’re just about to hang up when the phone picks up, and Wooyoung’s breathy voice crackles over the receiver. “Hello? YN?” He sounds like he just ran a marathon, and you can’t help but smile. The sound of his voice on the other end of the line sends a wave of warmth through you, a bittersweet reminder of the love you've been missing.

“Hey, Wooyoung. Sorry for never getting back to you guys.” You can already feel the awkwardness and tension through the phone call. “Uh…when are you guys free to talk?”

You can hear the eagerness in Wooyoung’s voice as he responds almost immediately. “Don’t apologise, YN, okay? San and I are free tonight after five. Would you like to come round to have dinner? I’m making spicy pork belly soup. If not, tomorrow evening also works at the same time. If you need more time.”

He’s one word away from practically begging on his knees, and you feel your heartstrings tug. “Yeah, tonight works if that’s okay. Is six-thirty okay?”

“Yes!” Wooyoung has no hesitation when he answers you. “Just come up whenever—you know the door code.”

“Okay, thank you again,” you say, seconds from hanging up when his voice cuts through the phone.

“YN. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. And I’ll see you tonight.”

He ends the call before you can say anything else, and you’re left staring at the phone longingly. Yeosang’s chuckle brings you out of your thoughts. “Told you they don’t hate you,” he hums, a small smile on his lips, and you roll your eyes at him even though your heart warms.

“Should I bring a gift? Like wine or something? I don’t know…they’re feeding me. And it could be a peace offering.”

Yeosang laughs again, amused by your dilemma. “If you want to, it could be a nice gesture. But really, I think they just want to see you again.” He reaches over to you to squeeze your hand. “You guys will be just fine, okay?”

You nod, offering him your own crooked smile. “Thanks for sitting and talking, Sang. I appreciate it.” Your eyes dart to the side. “I should probably go see if I can find a proper bottle of wine, though.”

-

The bottle of wine in your hands is clutched so tightly you fear it may shatter in your sweaty grasp. You’re almost too scared to knock, but your longing to see your boyfriends (were they still your boyfriends?) overrides your fear, and you tap on the door lightly. It might be presumptuous to just walk in, even though Wooyoung told you they didn’t change the door code. You’ve done it many times before, but these circumstances are different.

Before you can chicken out and call it off, the door swings open, and San stands before you, his hair messy like it always ends when he tries to style it without help. Your fingers twitch as you keep yourself from reaching up to smooth it over. “...Hi,” you greet him instead, eyes flitting down to your hands. “I brought wine.”

“Thanks. Come on in. Wooyoung’s finishing up now.”

He steps aside, and you pass him, trying not to flinch as his comforting scent fills your brain. Oh, how you missed him and Wooyoung. The apartment is unchanged, and a picture of the three of you is still hung on the wall. “I hope you’ve been well?”

“Yea. I’ve been keeping busy.” San closes the door behind you, running a hand through his messy hair, which only serves to worsen it. “How about you?”

You shrug as casually as you can. “I’m doing well. Just been working…” There’s a long pause where neither of you knows what to do. “Do you need help with anything? Where do you want me to put the wine?”

San shrugs. “There’s not much to do. The table has already been set. Do you want to wash up or anything? I can pour the wine.”

You nod, handing over the bottle, being careful to avoid San’s touch before excusing yourself to the bathroom. You can practically hear the disappointed sigh leaving San’s mouth and you feel a sharp stab in your heart at how upset he seems to be but you remind yourself this is important. As Yeosang said, they have to be aware of what issues you’re having.

You glance at your weary face in the mirror, wiping at some smudged makeup and fixing your hair, taking any moment you can get to calm yourself down. When you can hear low murmurs in the kitchen of San and Wooyoung talking you know it’s about time for you to get out of the bathroom.

When you turn the corner into the kitchen, Wooyoung greets you with a tentative smile and a wake of his spatula. “Hey, YN. Hope you’re doing well. Are…are you hungry? It’s almost done.” Wooyoung speaks carefully like he’s triple-checking the words he wants to say before they come out of his mouth.

“Of course,” you laugh awkwardly. “Your food is always good. I hope you’re doing well too.”

It’s almost painful how tense the atmosphere is, and both you and Wooyoung cast a glance at San as if pleading silently for him to resolve it for you two. Before any of you guys can speak, the rice cooker beeps, slicing the thick stress in half and all three of you laugh. “Let’s eat,” San cheers, his eyes crinkling in the smile you missed.

The three of you move towards the seats, where three glasses of wine sit and side dishes are scattered around. Wooyoung holds the stew in his hands, setting it down in the middle of the table as you and San take your seats.

The dinner is mostly silent, aside from a couple of hums in delight at the taste of Wooyoung’s cooking. As much as you would deny it, you missed this. You missed being near them, being able to share the same space with them. As the three of you eat, you sneak glances at both San and Wooyoung. Aside from the tousled hair, San seems pretty put-together, with an easygoing smile on his face and dimples still prominent. But the dullness in his eyes is clear and he smiles and giggles way less than usual. Wooyoung’s face is lined with worry, hints of stubble peeking out, and you’re embarrassed to admit you find it attractive. His hands fiddle with his silverware as he eats, and the guilt returns to eat at your stomach.

“So…” you try and break the silence carefully, and both men’s eyes quickly focus on you. “...my brother’s boyfriend adopted a cat secretly and Hongjoong is livid, but I caught him cuddling with the cat just two days ago.”

San chuckles. “Sounds about right. Seonghwa definitely seems the type to. What, did he find the cat on the side of the road and ‘just couldn’t let it starve out there’?” You snort at San’s imitation of your brother.

“Almost spot on. It’s like Seonghwa is sitting right here, really.”

And with that, the conversation continues almost completely normally, like nothing had happened two weeks prior. Wooyoung prods at San’s cooking like always and you defend San but can’t help but throw in a jab of your own, one that San reaches over and pushes gently at your shoulder for.

At the touch, you freeze and Wooyoung’s eyes dart between the two of you. A long moment passes until you finally laugh stiffly and push him back. “What can I say? It’s true.”

Wooyoung smiles at the both of you, the corner of his lips crooked. “Good to see you take his side as always when it comes to cooking,” he teases. “Maybe I’ll make him cook next time.”

Next time. Your breath catches at those words and both San and Wooyoung take note of your hopeful reaction. “I’ll hold you to that.”

-

After dinner, all of you shuffle into the living room slowly, knowing exactly what must come. None of you want to start the conversation, but it must happen. You sit first, hands wringing in your lap. San and Wooyoung sit right next to each other, but not far from you.

“We could draw straws?” Wooyoung speaks up, his hands gripping the couch beside him. “To see who goes first.”

You don’t quite know how to react, but unlike the last time Wooyoung tried to be silly, you understand it isn’t coming from a place of malice. “I think that’s a great idea, Wooyoung,” both you and San agree, and although Wooyoung’s body tenses a tad more, his eyes soften.

“Thanks.”

With shaking hands, you hold out the straws Wooyoung had given you. Both San and Wooyoung draw, keeping their pick hidden until you pick yours. Long. San uncurls his hand and reveals his. Long.

Your gaze shifts to Wooyoung who looks just about ready to throw up at the prospect of going first. “Of course it’s me,” he laughs soullessly. “I suggested it, so I end up being first.”

“If you’re not comfortable–”

Wooyoung stops San with a quick squeeze of his hand. “No, it’s okay. I have a lot to say.” Without further ado, he turns to face you, his eyes pleading and his brows furrowed. “YN, I’m sorry. I was inconsiderate of you in the relationship, and although I meant no harm, I hurt you when I commented on ‘having more fun without you’. Although I tried to keep tension low, it only served to hurt you and I apologise for that. I should’ve been more attentive to you and considered how you may have felt when San and I went off to do our own thing without you.”

You feel a wave of relief wash over you, your heart warming at his heartfelt apology. “I really appreciate that, Wooyoung,” you hum. “I missed you a lot, and after a couple days of cooling down, I realised you meant no harm, and I could’ve told you how I felt about that with more maturity. I…I hope you don’t mind if I go next.”

San waves his hand, gesturing for you to go on. “Of course,” he agrees readily, squeezing Wooyoung’s hand gently.

“I’m sure my…complaints…about our dynamic were pretty clear. I felt left out, excluded, and separated from the two of you. And what I was feeling was valid, but my reaction wasn’t. I am sorry about how I went about talking to you guys. I assumed you wouldn’t care, and so I kept it to myself and let it boil over. And just running out on you guys was unfair of me. I didn’t explain, nor give you guys a chance to explain.”

San nods empathetically. “I was indeed hurt by your immediate assumption that we wouldn’t care. I thought it was clear we care about you—I mean, we did watch that show together and we asked if you wanted to join us next time. If you were really feeling hurt, I do wish you brought it up sooner.”

You sigh, looking down at your twisting hands, bringing one of them up to your mouth to chew lightly on the nail. “Like I said way back, I was insecure about the two of you changing your relationship dynamic just because I wanted it. Maybe it was stupid, I don’t know, but the hurt I felt wasn’t stupid. Sure, we watched the show, and sure, you asked me if I wanted to join next time. But that was it! I was an afterthought. You dismissed me when I said I wanted to join, and yet you asked me why I didn’t bring it up before?”

Before you can sink your teeth any further into your nail, Wooyoung leans forward, gently pulling your hand away from your mouth and bringing it to his lap. “Don’t bite your nails, YN. I’m sure San didn’t mean to be dismissive,” he pleads, elbowing San lightly in the ribs, who winces and nods sincerely. “I’m sure you understand, we were just hurt you didn’t trust us enough, although your reasons are understandable. We want to make things right, though, and we want you to be comfortable to talk to us about your insecurities and worries.”

“Yeah, I didn’t mean to be so defensive,” San concedes. “I got too caught up in wanting everyone to get along, I got ahead of myself. I pride myself on being the calm one, but I was too passive and that quickly turned into self-righteousness.” His hand moves to rest atop yours and Wooyoung’s, his thumb gently rubbing circles into the soft skin.

“We still want you with us, YN,” Wooyoung cuts in, “and we want to change for you. We talked about this when you were gone, and we’ll respect your decision to leave if you so wish, but we really would like to try and work this through.”

You pause for a moment. You could walk away right now, minimizing any potential hurt that could follow. But as your eyes land on your conjoined hands, any minute wish to leave is immediately squashed and you smile up at the two of them. “I want to stay too.”

San matches your smile and Wooyoung’s grip on your hand tightens almost imperceptibly. Before anything else happens, he pulls you forward, wrapping his other arm around your shoulders as he engulfs you in a warm hug. Without hesitation, San quickly joins, pressing a kiss to the top of both your and Wooyoung’s head.

He stared down at his hands, flexed his fingers as if they might give him an answer. What was he so afraid of? The feeling itself? The truth of it? Or was it the way Wooyoung looked at him sometimes—soft and open and a little bit like hope?

San's chest tightened.

Because what if he wasn't ready for this?

What if he was, and Wooyoung wasn't?

He rubbed the back of his neck, dragging in a slow breath through his nose.

He'd kissed girls before. He'd even loved, once or twice. But this was different. This was Wooyoung. His best friend. His constant. And suddenly everything felt fragile—like if he said the wrong thing, moved too fast, it might all crack. He wanted to be close. Closer than he'd ever been. He wanted to lie down and bury his face in the curve of Wooyoung's shoulder and pretend the world didn't exist outside this room.

San didn't know what he was waiting for.

But the sound of the water shutting off made his stomach turn in a loop.

The bathroom door creaked open a few seconds after with a soft hiss of steam, and Wooyoung stepped back into the room, rubbing a towel through his damp hair. He'd changed into one of his oversized shirts—the faded black one San had stolen a dozen times—and loose sleep shorts that hung low on his hips. He looked soft, unguarded, like he always did after a shower, skin pink from the heat and eyes sleepy.

But tonight, he paused when he saw San.

San hadn't moved. Still perched on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched, gaze fixed on some invisible point on the floor.

Wooyoung stilled, towel falling from his hands, his voice tentative. "You okay?"

San looked up, startled as if he'd been pulled from a dream. "Yeah," he said too quickly. "Fine. Just tired."

Wooyoung nodded slowly, the air tight between them again. He crossed the room and tossed the towel over his chair before pulling back the covers on his side of the bed. "Come on," he said, gently, like it was any other night, even though it wasn't. "Let's sleep."

San shifted, climbing in with careful movements, as if the bed might bite. He lay stiff on his back, arms at his sides, staring up at the ceiling. Wooyoung slid in next to him, careful to keep space between their bodies, though it felt unnatural not to curl in the way they always did.

For a few long moments, neither of them said a word. The room was filled only with the sound of their breathing—San's a little too fast, Wooyoung's a little too even, as if he were pretending to be asleep.

"Are you mad at me?" Wooyoung's voice was barely above a whisper, the question hanging delicately and uncertain in the space between them.

"What? No." San laughed, but it sounded wrong — too quick, too tight, like a string pulled taut and ready to snap. His fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt. "Why would I be mad? That's not... that's not what this is."

"I don't know," Wooyoung said, voice gentle, careful, like he was trying not to spook a frightened animal. "You're acting weird. Different. Like you're trying to hold yourself away from something."

San's lips parted like he wanted to deny it, but nothing came out. His fingers dug into the blanket until his knuckles went white, betraying the tension running through his body. "I'm not trying to," he managed finally, the words coming out rough and unsteady.

"Okay." A beat. The silence stretched between. "So what is it? What's going on in that head of yours?"

The silence sat heavy between them again, thick with all the things they weren't saying. Wooyoung's heartbeat was too loud in his ears. He wasn't expecting an answer. San never said anything first. Not when they mattered. Not when they could change everything.

But then, San did speak. Quietly, his voice small and vulnerable in the darkness. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel like I'm standing on the edge of something, and I can't tell if I'm supposed to step back or jump."

Wooyoung turned his head on the pillow, studying San's profile in the dim light. The words hung between them, raw and honest in a way that made Wooyoung's chest ache. He wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap between them, but something in San's voice made him hesitate.

San's breaths came shallow and quick, his mind spinning in circles. This wasn't right. None of this made sense. He liked girls—he had always liked girls. The softness of their hands, the curve of their smiles, the way they smelled like flowers and sugar. That's what attraction was supposed to feel like. Not... not this. Not the way his skin burned when Wooyoung's shoulder brushed his, or how his heart stumbled when Wooyoung looked at him with those eyes that saw too much.

"San?" Wooyoung's voice was barely there, a thread of sound in the darkness. "Please talk to me."

San squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't look at Wooyoung. Couldn't bear to see the concern, the patience, the something else that lurked beneath it all. His throat felt tight, words trapped behind a wall of confusion and fear. What could he even say? That his body felt like it was betraying him? That every certainty he'd ever had about himself was suddenly questionable?

The mattress shifted as Wooyoung moved, creating more space between them. The distance felt both like relief and loss, and San hated himself for both reactions.

"If you want," Wooyoung said carefully, each word measured, "I can sleep on the couch tonight."

The offer hit San like a physical blow. This was wrong too—Wooyoung pulling away, making himself smaller, trying to fix something he hadn't broken. San wanted to reach out, to grab his wrist and keep him close. But his hands remained frozen at his sides, his body a prison of indecision.

"No," he managed finally, the word coming out choked. "Stay. Please." It was all he could offer, these fragments of honesty in a sea of confusion.

Wooyoung was quiet for a long moment, and San could feel his gaze like a physical weight. There was understanding there, and something else—something that made San's heart squeeze painfully in his chest. The air between them felt heavy with everything left unsaid, with all their almost-touches hanging in the silence.

San hated the space between them with an intensity that surprised him. His skin burned with a desperate, consuming need to be closer, to feel the familiar warmth of Wooyoung's presence against him, to breathe in the lingering scent of his shampoo and shower-warm skin. The distance felt like a physical ache in his chest, a hollow space that grew larger with each passing second. His fingers twitched with the urge to reach out, to bridge the gap between them, to find an anchor in the comfort they'd always shared so easily before. But he didn't speak. He couldn't. The words felt trapped behind the wall of his confusion, caught somewhere between fear and want.

His fingers didn't move. He hadn't taken Wooyoung's hand. He hadn't moved closer. He hadn't moved at all.

He just lay there, rigid and silent, as if frozen under the weight of his thoughts. Wooyoung could practically hear them—loud and frantic and full of panic behind that stillness. He could feel it in the way San's breathing came shallow and uneven, in the way his hand stayed clenched in a fist by his side, refusing to reach back.

Wooyoung's chest ached.

He shifted again, slightly, "San…" he tried again, gently, carefully.

No answer. San's jaw was tight, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling like it held a lifeline. He looked so far away, like he wasn't really in the room with him at all.

And Wooyoung felt it—that awful, slow-sinking realization that something was breaking and he didn't know how to stop it. His best friend, the one person he thought he understood better than anyone, was a locked door tonight. And he didn't know where the key had gone.

"I didn’t mean to push," Wooyoung said, voice rough at the edges. "If you don't wanna talk, it's okay. I just—can you look at me? Please?"

San's throat bobbed, but he didn't turn.

Not even that.

And it stung. That he wouldn't even look.

"I don't know what I did," Wooyoung said, quieter now. "If I made you uncomfortable, or crossed some line, or—God, I don't even know what this is, but—" He broke off, shook his head. "But I can feel something's wrong."

Still nothing.

Wooyoung turned away, pressing his forehead into the pillow to hide the sudden wetness burning behind his eyes. He didn't want to cry. Not over this. Not when it wasn't even a fight, just silence.

Just San not wanting to meet him in the middle anymore.

And San—San felt it. Felt the air shift, colder without Wooyoung's voice in it. Felt the way guilt crawled under his skin like a fever. But the words wouldn't come. He didn't know what to say.

Because it didn't make sense.

Because nothing made sense.

He wasn't supposed to feel like this. He wasn't supposed to feel anything. Not like this. Not for Wooyoung.

And yet here he was, heart stuttering every time Wooyoung moved, lungs too tight to breathe around the ache. He didn't know what he wanted—only that everything felt too close, too real, too dangerous.

He didn't know how to tell Wooyoung that he was scared.

That he didn't know who he was when he looked at him like that.

So he said nothing.

He just closed his eyes and hoped it would all go away.

But it didn't.

"I don't get it," San said, more to himself than to Wooyoung. "I look at you, and it feels like I'm supposed to know something. Like I've always known it. And now I'm just remembering."

Wooyoung didn't speak. He couldn't. He was too busy trying not to cry.

"It scares me."

"I know," Wooyoung said softly. "It scared me, too."

San seemed to stiffen beside him, spine rigid as a board, as if his body had forgotten how to share this familiar space. It was as if Wooyoung's mere presence had somehow made everything worse.

Am I making him uncomfortable?

Did I push too hard again?

Was I wrong about all of it?

He blinked fast, throat thick. Wooyoung didn't want to cry.

Not when San hadn't even said anything. Not when the silence said enough.

Because this wasn't the San he knew.

The San he knew teased and touched and laughed like the world couldn't break him. The San he knew never hesitated to climb into bed with him and steal the blanket, or complain about his cold feet, or fall asleep draped over him like he belonged there.

And maybe that was the problem.

Maybe Wooyoung had let himself believe that the way San touched him meant something. That the softness in his voice when they were alone, the comfort they found in each other, the closeness—they all pointed somewhere. Somewhere more.

But now San was a fortress of silence and tension. And Wooyoung didn't know how to get in.

He wanted to reach for him again. To ask—Please. Please just talk to me. Tell me I’m not imagining this.

But he didn't.

Because he could feel how close San was to breaking. And he couldn't be the one to push him over the edge.

So he stayed still.

Breathing carefully.

Trying not to hope too loudly.

But his heart was screaming.

Why can't you just say it?

Even if it's just to say you don't feel the same, just say something.

Don't leave me in the dark.

He shifted slightly, just enough that his shoulder brushed San's.

San flinched. Barely. But enough.

And that… that was the moment something cracked deep in Wooyoung's chest. He swallowed hard, curling in on himself like he could take up less space. He wanted to disappear into the mattress. To not exist in this room where love was, maybe something ugly and shameful, and confusing.

Where his presence—his touch—felt like too much.

He stared into the dark and let the tears gather silently at the corners of his eyes.

Not because San didn't feel it.

But because maybe he did.

And maybe that was worse.

Because if San did feel it—and still couldn't meet him in the middle—then what did that mean?

Was it him? Was he the thing San couldn't accept?

Was loving Wooyoung the thing that made San retreat into silence?

The thought sat cold in his chest. He breathed through it. Swallowed the ache. Curled smaller.

And then something happened — nothing dramatic. Just San leaning his head slowly against Wooyoung's shoulder, like he used to.

Wooyoung didn't move at first. He just breathed — slow, steady, like he was afraid the moment would slip through his fingers if he shifted too much. San's head was heavy against him, warm, familiar. But not quite the same. There was something electric in it now, like standing on the edge of a question neither of them knew how to ask. Wooyoung tilted his head slightly, enough that his cheek brushed the top of San's hair. It was soft and smelled like his shampoo. That shouldn't have made his heart ache, but it did.

Slowly, San's hand moved. His fingers uncurled from their tight fist, and with a hesitation that felt like it lasted years, he reached up. Not to take Wooyoung's hand like he usually would, but to touch his face. His fingertips brushed Wooyoung's cheek, barely there, like he was touching something precious and breakable.

Wooyoung's breath caught.

San had never touched him like this before—so deliberately, so carefully. Like he was crossing a line he couldn't uncross.

Wooyoung didn't move.

Couldn't.

His skin burned under the touch, but he didn't dare lean into it. He was afraid of tipping the balance, of making San pull away. It was like being caught in the pause between lightning and thunder—something huge just waiting to hit.

"Is this okay?" San whispered, his voice trembling slightly in the darkness.

Wooyoung couldn't speak. He just nodded, barely perceptible, afraid that any sudden movement would shatter whatever was happening between them. San's fingers lingered on Wooyoung's cheek, the touch so light it could've been imagined. His hand trembled, and Wooyoung felt it—just the tiniest tremor, like San wasn't sure if he was allowed to want this.

Wooyoung turned his face slightly, finally pressing into the touch.

And that seemed to break something open.

San's breath hitched, his hand pulling back immediately, as if burned.

And it hurt Wooyoung more than it should have.

Not because San had pulled away.

But because he hadn't meant to stay.

There'd been a moment—brief, flickering—where Wooyoung had thought: Maybe.

Maybe this was real.

Maybe San felt it too.

Maybe he wasn't crazy for reading into the way San had lingered a second too long when they hugged, or how his gaze caught and held like it wanted more than it had permission to want.

San jerked away suddenly, his legs swinging over the side of the bed with such force that the mattress creaked beneath him. His shoulders were drawn tight, muscles rigid with tension. "Shit," he whispered, the word catching in his throat. "Shit, I—sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—" His voice trailed off, heavy with regret.

Wooyoung pushed himself upright too, movements careful and measured, maintaining the delicate distance between them. "San—" he started, voice gentle.

"I shouldn't have done that," San interrupted, fingers raking through his hair with increasing agitation, tugging at the strands. "I don't even know what I'm doing. This isn't—I can't—" His words came out fragmented, scattered like broken glass.

"It's okay—" Wooyoung tried again, voice soft and reassuring.

"No, it's not!" The words burst from San's throat, raw and fractured, more desperate than angry. His voice cracked on the last word, betraying the depth of his turmoil. "You're my best friend, Woo. You're my—" He swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. "This isn't how it's supposed to be. I don't even know what this is. Everything feels wrong and right at the same time."

"It doesn't have to be anything yet. I just..." Wooyoung paused, choosing his words carefully. "I need you to let me in—just a little. We can figure this out together. You don't have to figure it out all at once. We have time."

"But I don't get it," San said, his voice breaking with helplessness. His hands trembled in his lap. "I've never— It's never been like this before. Not with anyone else. And it's you." His voice caught on the word. "I'm not supposed to feel like this about you. These feelings weren't supposed to exist."

Wooyoung's heart ached at that, the words hitting him like physical blows, because they sounded like both a confession and a rejection wrapped in the same breath. Each word felt like a door opening and closing simultaneously.

"I thought I knew myself," San whispered, "I thought I was sure about everything. About who I was, what I wanted."

There was a heavy pause, and then Wooyoung asked, his voice impossibly soft, gentle as falling snow: "And now?"

San turned to look at him, finally, really looked, for the first time since he'd pulled away. His eyes were glassy in the dim light, brimming with unshed tears, his brow furrowed like every thought was causing him physical pain. "Now I think I'm coming apart," he confessed, voice raw. "Everything I thought I knew about myself feels like it's unraveling."

Wooyoung's throat tightened. "You're not," he insisted softly but firmly. "You're not broken, San. You're just... discovering something new about yourself."

"But something's changed," San whispered, his voice trembling with uncertainty. "And I don't know if I can ever go back to how things were before. But I don't know how to move forward either. It feels like I'm stuck in between, and I can't find my way out."

Wooyoung nodded slowly, "Then let's just... stay here. For now. We don't have to go anywhere."

San didn't respond immediately, but after what felt like an eternity, he nodded. The movement was barely perceptible, but it was there—a tiny acknowledgment, a small step toward acceptance.

And this time, when Wooyoung reached for him, he didn’t flinch.

Their fingers met, hesitant and unsure, curling together like it was the first time. Maybe it was.

"Can you..." Wooyoung started, voice barely above a whisper, "Please stay with me tonight?" The request was shy, hesitant, like he was afraid of asking too much.

San was quiet for a moment, then squeezed Wooyoung's hand gently. "I'll stay," he whispered back, voice rough but steady.

"If you're stuck," the words flowed from Wooyoung's mouth like a thread of warmth, fragile. His voice didn't waver as he met San's gaze—not with pressure, not with expectation, but with quiet honesty. "Then I'll stay stuck with you until you're ready to move. You don't have to figure it out alone. Not tonight. Not ever."

San blinked, slow and disbelieving, as if the weight in his chest didn't quite know what to do with that kind of gentleness. His mouth opened like he wanted to argue, like he didn't deserve that kind of grace, but no words came out. Just a shaky exhale.

The room was silent, the kind that carried more than stillness—shared breath, shared tension, a shared truth neither of them could unspeak now.

"I'm scared," San said again, but this time it wasn't a confession thrown into the dark. It was an offering.

Wooyoung's face softened, something tender blooming behind his tired eyes. "So am I."

And for the first time, it felt like they were on the same side of something—same fear, same want, same impossibility.

San's hand moved again, slower this time, more intentional. He reached between them and let his fingers curl loosely around Wooyoung's wrist, not quite holding, not quite letting go either.

It was the barest contact. But it was real.

Wooyoung let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

He didn't try to close the space. He didn't lean in. He just turned his palm up, let their hands sit there, tentative and warm between them. Waiting. Willing.

And when San finally laced their fingers together, trembling but sure, Wooyoung didn't say a word. He didn't have to.

Because sometimes, the smallest touch says,

I’m not ready

And

I want to be.

And

Please wait for me.

And

I think I love you,

all at once.

And Wooyoung—he would wait.

For as long as it took.

Today

Wooyoung tugged at the strap of his backpack, walking down the familiar corridors of their high school. The hum of voices, the shuffle of shoes against the tiled floor—everything felt routine, like he'd lived this day a hundred times before...because he had. He sighed, glancing at the walls lined with club posters, trying to find something exciting in the monotony.

That's when he saw San.

He wasn't new; San had been in his grade for years. But Wooyoung had never really seen him, not in the way he did today.

San was sitting on the bench near the entrance to the gym, adjusting his sneakers, the sunlight spilling through the window and casting a soft glow on his dark hair. He looked focused, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he tied his laces. There was something effortlessly cool about him.

Wooyoung slowed his pace, feeling something strange stir in his chest. Why hadn't he noticed before?

"Hey, Wooyoung!"

The shout jolted him out of his thoughts, and he turned to see Yeosang waving him over. Wooyoung forced as normal of a grin as he could manage and jogged up to his friend, trying to shake off whatever weird moment he'd just had.

But as he glanced back, just for a second, his eyes found San again. This time, San caught him staring, and for the briefest moment, their gazes locked.

Wooyoung felt a flutter of nervous energy pulse through him. He quickly looked away, his face heating up as he tried to focus on what Yeosang was saying.

The Next Day

Wooyoung didn't expect to think about San so much. In fact, he tried to push him out of his head entirely, but the image of San sitting on the bench kept popping up in his mind—uninvited, yet persistent.

It was during gym class that they finally crossed paths properly. The gym teacher had assigned them to play basketball, splitting the class into two teams. Wooyoung found himself in the unfortunate position of being on the opposite team from San.

Great, he thought, more opportunities to make a fool of myself.

San, however, seemed unaware of Wooyoung's internal panic. He moved across the court with ease, the ball flowing through his hands like it was second nature. There was something captivating about the way San played…calm, focused, almost serene. Wooyoung couldn't help but watch, mesmerized by how natural San seemed in motion.

"Wooyoung!" Yeosang's voice snapped him out of his trance again. "Are you gonna help us or just stare at San all day?"

Wooyoung blinked, realizing too late that the ball had been passed to him. He fumbled, and before he knew it, San was right there coming toward him—smoothly intercepting the ball from his grasp and driving it down the court for a perfect shot.

The gym echoed with applause as San's team cheered. Wooyoung stood frozen for a moment, his heart racing, and not just from the game...San's hand had grazed his.

After the match, as everyone was packing up, Wooyoung grabbed his water bottle and tried to calm his nerves. Just as he was about to head out, though, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Hey, good game."

Wooyoung turned, and there was San, standing closer than he expected, with a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Oh, uh... yeah, you too," Wooyoung stammered. His palms felt sweaty, and he mentally cursed himself for not being cooler.

San chuckled, the sound soft and warm. "You've got potential, you know. You just gotta keep your head in the game."

Wooyoung smiled back, his nervousness fading just a little. "I'll try."

For a second, they just stood there, the awkwardness thick between them. Wooyoung wasn't sure what to say next, and San seemed equally unsure.

Finally, San broke the silence. "You ever think about joining the basketball club?"

Wooyoung blinked. "Me? Oh, I don't know... I'm not exactly... you know, good."

San shrugged. "Doesn't matter. We could always use more people. Besides, it's just for fun. You should come check it out sometime."

Before Wooyoung could reply, San gave him a friendly nod and headed toward the locker room. Wooyoung stood there, feeling a strange mix of exhilaration and confusion. Did San really just invite him to join the basketball club? And why did that make his heart feel like it was about to leap out of his chest?

Observer

Over the next few weeks, Wooyoung found himself drawn to the basketball club, though not necessarily for the sport. He would drop by after school, watching San practice with the others, always trying to stay unnoticed. But somehow, San always spotted him.

It started with casual conversations—brief chats after practice or between plays. They weren't close, but there was an ease between them, something that made Wooyoung feel comfortable around San, even though he barely knew him.

One day, after a particularly long practice, San walked over to where Wooyoung was sitting on the bleachers.

"You should join," San said, plopping down beside him.

Wooyoung laughed. "You keep saying that."

"I mean it," San replied, his eyes serious but kind. "You've been watching us for weeks. Don't you want to play?"

Wooyoung hesitated. "I don't know. I guess I'm just... not confident."

San tilted his head, studying him for a moment. "You don't have to be. It's just about having fun, really. Besides..." San paused, his gaze softening. "I think you'd be good. And, you know, I'd help you."

Wooyoung's heart skipped a beat. There was something in the way San said it, something that made Wooyoung feel like maybe, just maybe, there was more to this than basketball.

That night, Wooyoung couldn't stop thinking about San's offer. But it wasn't just about the basketball…it was about San himself. The way he smiled, the way he made Wooyoung feel seen in a way he hadn't before.

Wooyoung wasn't sure what was happening, but he knew one thing for sure: he was falling for San.

And the scariest part? He wasn't sure if San felt the same way.

Basketball Club

The rhythmic bounce of the basketball echoed through the gym. Wooyoung stood at the edge of the court, sneakers squeaking faintly as he shifted nervously from one foot to the other. It was his first official practice with the basketball club, and despite San's encouragement, his nerves were getting the better of him.

San jogged over, his usual easygoing smile in place. "You ready?"

Wooyoung nodded, though his stomach churned with uncertainty. "Yeah... I guess."

San tilted his head. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. Just stick with me, okay?"

There was something about the way San said it that instantly put Wooyoung at ease. San always had that effect on him. And as they began practicing, Wooyoung found himself following San's lead, moving through the drills with more confidence than he expected.

About halfway through practice, after missing an easy shot, Wooyoung groaned in frustration.

"I'm so bad at this," he muttered, dropping his head in defeat.

San jogged over, bouncing the ball lightly between his hands. "Hey, don't be so hard on yourself. You're doing great for your first time."

Wooyoung gave him a skeptical look. "You're just saying that to be nice."

San grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Okay, maybe a little. But seriously, you're not bad." He tossed the ball to Wooyoung, who caught it clumsily. "You just need to trust yourself."

Wooyoung huffed but couldn't help the small smile that crept onto his face. San made it sound so simple—like everything would be fine as long as Wooyoung kept trying. And maybe, with San around, it would be fine.

Boys and Basketball

As practice ended, the two of them lingered behind, the rest of the group having already packed up and left. San shot a few more hoops, effortlessly sinking the ball every time.

Wooyoung watched from the sidelines, feeling something unfamiliar bubbling up inside him. It wasn't just admiration for San's skill…it was something deeper, something he didn't quite understand yet.

"Why do you like basketball so much?" Wooyoung asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

San caught the ball and paused, leaning against it. "I don't know. It's kind of freeing, I guess. When I'm on the court, I don't have to think about anything else. It's just me and the game."

Wooyoung nodded, though he couldn't quite relate. Sports were never really his thing. But watching San play... it was different. San looked so alive when he played, so full of energy and light. It made Wooyoung want to be a part of it, even if he wasn't good at it. Actually, Woo zoned out of the world watching San play the same way San did while playing.

"You should stay after practice more often," San added, casually tossing the ball in Wooyoung's direction. "We can work on your shots. I'll help you get better."

There it was again—San's effortless kindness, the way he always made Wooyoung feel like he belonged. Wooyoung caught the ball and smiled. "Yeah, maybe I will."

San walked over, grabbing his water bottle from the bench. For a moment, they stood there, side by side, the air between them feeling charged with something unsaid. Wooyoung's heart pounded in his chest, louder than it should have been, and he couldn't figure out why.

"Wanna grab some food?" San asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Wooyoung blinked, his mind still reeling from the tension he felt. "Oh, uh, sure."

They walked to the small café near their school, chatting about random things…classes, music, the latest episode of some show San had been watching.

But the whole time, Wooyoung felt a strange pull toward San, like there was an invisible string tying them together, drawing him closer in ways that made his head spin.

Late Night Almost Confessions

Later that evening, after they'd finished their food and were walking back, Wooyoung's phone buzzed with a message from Yeosang, but he barely registered it. All he could focus on was how close San was walking beside him, their arms brushing lightly every now and then.

"Thanks for coming to practice today," San said quietly, his voice softer than usual. "It was fun."

Wooyoung smiled, though his heart felt like it was about to leap out of his chest. "Yeah, it was."

They walked in silence for a while, the cool evening breeze rustling through the trees. It was peaceful, yet the air between them felt heavy with unspoken words. Wooyoung wanted to say something, but he didn't know what.

"Can I ask you something?" San's voice cut through the quiet.

Wooyoung glanced at him, suddenly nervous. "Uh, yeah. Sure."

San stopped walking, turning to face Wooyoung. His eyes, usually so calm and playful, were now more serious. "Do you... ever feel like there's something you don't quite understand about yourself? Like, something just waiting to make sense?"

Wooyoung froze, his breath catching in his throat. The question hit him harder than he had expected. He looked away, suddenly feeling exposed, as if San could see right through him.

"Yeah," Wooyoung replied softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I feel like that a lot."

San nodded, his gaze not leaving Wooyoung's face. There was a silence that stretched between them, thick with meaning. Wooyoung could feel his heart pounding, and he didn't know if it was from the question or the way San was looking at him…so intently, like he was searching for something.

"I feel like that too," San admitted after a moment, his voice just as soft. He shifted slightly, his hands fiddling with the strap of his bag. "Especially lately."

Wooyoung's breath hitched. His mind raced, trying to figure out what San meant…if he meant what Wooyoung thought he meant. But before Wooyoung could say anything, San smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes this time.

"Anyway," San said, clearing his throat and looking away. "This is your place."

Wooyoung wanted to say something, wanted to reach out and close the gap between them, but the words stuck in his throat and his legs stuck to the ground. Instead, he just nodded, feeling the weight of everything they hadn't said settle heavily in his chest before turning and walking inside.

Unspoken Feelings

That night, as Wooyoung lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind wouldn't stop spinning. San's words kept replaying in his head…do you ever feel like there's something you don't quite understand about yourself?

Wooyoung knew exactly what that feeling was. He just didn't know what to do about it. But there was something in the way San had looked at him tonight, something that made Wooyoung think... maybe he wasn't alone in this.

Maybe they were both trying to figure it out.

And maybe, just maybe, they could figure it out together.

The days following their late-night conversation were filled with a strange, almost electric tension. Wooyoung could feel it every time he and San were together.

1 Week Later

It was Friday, and Wooyoung was sitting in the cafeteria with Yeosang, trying to focus on their conversation, but his eyes kept drifting across the room to where San was sitting with his basketball teammates. San hadn't noticed him yet, but Wooyoung couldn't stop glancing in his direction.

"Earth to Wooyoung?" Yeosang waved a hand in front of his face, breaking Wooyoung's concentration.

"Huh?" Wooyoung blinked, snapping back to reality.

Yeosang raised an eyebrow. "You've been staring at San for, like, five minutes."

Wooyoung felt his face heat up. "What? No, I wasn't."

Yeosang gave him a knowing look, leaning back in his chair. "Dude, it's kind of obvious. What's going on with you two?"

"Nothing!" Wooyoung said quickly, maybe too quickly. "We're just... you know, friends."

Yeosang didn't look convinced. "Uh-huh. Sure. Look, I'm not saying you have to tell me anything, but... if there's something more, you can talk to me, you know."

Wooyoung hesitated, unsure how to respond. He wanted to tell Yeosang, wanted to let it all out, but the truth was, he didn't even know what was going on himself. How could he explain something he barely understood?

"Thanks," Wooyoung said finally, giving Yeosang a small smile. "I just... I don't really know what's going on. It's complicated."

Yeosang nodded, offering a sympathetic smile. "Feelings usually are. But, for what it's worth, I think you two look good together."

Wooyoung's heart skipped a beat at the comment, but before he could respond, he saw San stand up from his table, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on Wooyoung. He waved, and Wooyoung felt that familiar flutter in his chest.

"I'll be right back," Wooyoung said, standing up quickly and heading toward San.

Invite

San greeted him with a bright smile, though Wooyoung could see the slight tension in his posture.

"Hey, wanna hang out after school today?" San asked.

Wooyoung nodded without hesitation. "Yeah, sure. What's up? Want to shoot some hoops?"

San hesitated for a moment, glancing around as if to make sure no one else was listening. "I was thinking... maybe we could go to the park instead? Just the two of us."

Wooyoung's heart pounded in his chest. Just the two of us. The way San said it made Wooyoung's stomach flip with nervous excitement.

"Yeah, that sounds good," Wooyoung replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

San smiled, but there was something behind it, something uncertain. "Cool. Meet me by the gates after practice?"

Wooyoung nodded, watching as San walked away, his mind already racing with what this meant. Was this just a regular hangout? Or was there more to it? He couldn't tell, and the not knowing was driving him crazy.

At the Park

The park was quieter than usual, the fading light of the afternoon casting long shadows across the grass. Wooyoung and San walked side by side, the cool breeze making Wooyoung shiver slightly, though it wasn't the only reason he felt on edge.

They had been walking for a while, neither of them saying much, the air between them thick with unspoken tension. Wooyoung kept glancing at San, trying to figure out what was going on in his head, but San's expression was unreadable.

Finally, San broke the silence. "You ever wonder why some things feel so hard to say?"

Wooyoung's heart skipped a beat. He looked at San, who was staring straight ahead, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

"Yeah," Wooyoung said quietly. "I think about that a lot."

San nodded, still not looking at him. "It's like... the more important something is, the harder it is to put into words."

Wooyoung felt his pulse quicken. He didn't know where this conversation was going, but he could feel that they were standing on the edge of something big, something that could change everything.

San stopped walking, turning to face Wooyoung. His eyes were filled with something Wooyoung hadn't seen before…vulnerability, uncertainty, and maybe... hope?

"There's something I've been trying to figure out," San said softly. "Something I haven't been able to say out loud because... I don't know how."

Wooyoung's breath caught in his throat. He felt like the world was holding its breath with him, waiting for what would come next.

San's eyes searched Wooyoung's face, as if looking for some sort of sign. "Do you ever feel like... maybe you're not sure about how you feel about someone, but at the same time, you're kind of afraid of what it might mean?"

Wooyoung's heart pounded so loudly he was sure San could hear it. His mind raced, trying to process what San was saying…what it meant.

"Yeah," Wooyoung whispered, barely able to get the words out. "I feel like that a lot lately."

San's eyes flickered with something…relief, maybe? He stepped a little closer, his voice even softer now. "I think I've been feeling like that about you, Wooyoung."

Wooyoung's breath hitched. His chest felt tight, like he couldn't get enough air. He had imagined this moment a hundred times, but now that it was happening, he didn't know what to do.

San's gaze held his, intense and searching. "I don't know what this is, or if it's just me, but... I had to say something. I couldn't keep pretending I didn't feel it."

Wooyoung felt a surge of emotion…fear, excitement, hope, all swirling together in a dizzying mix. His mouth felt dry, but he forced himself to speak. "You're not the only one."

San's eyes widened slightly, his expression shifting to something softer, more vulnerable. "Really?"

Wooyoung nodded, his heart racing. "Yeah. I've been feeling the same way... but I didn't know how to tell you. I was scared of...I'm not really sure."

For a moment, they just stood there, the weight of their confessions hanging in the air between them. Wooyoung's heart was pounding, but for the first time, he didn't feel afraid of his feelings...he felt relieved by their being returned.

San smiled, a real, genuine smile that lit up his whole face. "So... what do we do now?"

Wooyoung laughed softly, the tension in his chest finally easing. "I don't know. But maybe we can figure it out. Together."

San's smile grew wider, and without thinking, he reached out and took Wooyoung's hand. It was a simple gesture, but it felt like the most important thing in the world at that moment.

Wooyoung sighed as he tugged his little brother through the bustling mall. The scent of cinnamon and fresh pretzels filled the air, and the echo of holiday tunes blasted through every store. The boy, clutching a half-eaten candy cane, pointed eagerly toward the line to meet Santa.

"Come on, Woo! I wanna tell Santa what I want for Christmas!"

"Yeah, yeah," Wooyoung muttered, ruffling his hair. "Let’s just hope this Santa’s not the creepy kind."

They reached the front of the line quicker than expected. Wooyoung adjusted his brother’s jacket and turned his gaze toward the giant red throne—and froze.

Santa was… not what he expected.

Gone was the image of a jolly, elderly man with a rotund belly. Instead, the Santa seated on the throne was lean and sharp-featured, with a strong jawline and a smirk that didn’t belong in a children’s photo op. His beard, obviously fake, sat slightly askew, but it somehow added to his charm.

"Next!" the young Santa called, waving the boy forward.

"Wow," Wooyoung muttered under his breath, blinking. "Santa’s hot."

The boy sprinted to Santa’s lap, immediately launching into a detailed wish list about video games and action figures. Meanwhile, Wooyoung stayed rooted in place, unable to tear his eyes away.

Santa—no, this gorgeous man—glanced up and caught Wooyoung’s gaze. His smirk deepened.

"That’s quite the list," Santa said, handing the boy a candy cane. Then, locking eyes with Wooyoung, he added, "You’re up next."

"Me?" Wooyoung choked out, his voice embarrassingly high-pitched.

"Sure," the Santa boy teased, patting his lap. "Don’t be shy. Have you been a good boy this year?"

The boy giggled. "Woo’s never good!"

Wooyoung flushed redder than the Christmas decorations. "I—uh—"

Santa leaned closer, the scent of peppermint and something woodsy filling the air. "Come on, I don’t bite… unless you ask nicely."

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Later that evening, Wooyoung found himself sitting across from San—the “Santa” from earlier—at a cozy café just outside the mall.

"I can’t believe you actually asked for my number," San teased, sipping his hot chocolate. "You looked ready to bolt."

"Okay, in my defense," Wooyoung said, stirring his drink furiously, "I wasn’t expecting Santa to flirt with me. It threw me off."

San laughed, the sound rich and warm. "Well, I’m not exactly your typical Santa, am I?"

"No kidding." Wooyoung’s eyes flickered to the small patch of skin visible at San’s collar, where his red costume had been replaced by a fitted black turtleneck. "You could give people a heart attack dressed like that."

"Good thing I only wanted to steal one heart today," San quipped, leaning forward with a grin.

Wooyoung nearly spilled his drink.

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The date continued with playful banter, plenty of teasing, and a shared slice of cheesecake. By the time they made it back to San’s apartment, the holiday spirit had morphed into something far more electric.

As soon as the door clicked shut, San wasted no time pulling Wooyoung close, their laughter fading into a kiss that was slow and teasing at first, then deepened as San tugged Wooyoung’s sweater up.

"You still want to sit on my lap?" San whispered against Wooyoung’s lips, hands sliding down to grip his waist.

"Only if you promise to keep me warm," Wooyoung shot back, already breathless.

Ever since Wooyoung was a little child, there had always been a pair of eyes constantly following him around town. He knew there was something different about him, after all, it was not everything that a child was born with discoloration in the lower half of their hair, light blonde strands framing his face. He soon learned how to defend himself from insults and from other kids picking on him, standing his ground, but it wasn’t until he was around ten years old that they truly took him seriously. At first Wooyoung hadn’t really understood what had happened, until other kids, from a different town who were visiting that day decided to tease him, had cowered in fear and he looked at the ground around him. All the plants in a small radius around him had become gray, and there were almost tendrils made of the purest black shadow crawling over them. Wooyoung himself had turned around in fear, trying to grasp the situation, as a tendril hit one of the boys and he fell to the ground, frozen, paralyzed… almost lifeless, the boy’s heart hanging by a thread. Wooyoung had run, not looking back. But word had reached his family, his neighbors, his friends, and every single person in the town became afraid of the young child.

All but one: his neighbor, a boy just a few months older than him named Choi San, with those cat-like eyes that followed him around. At first the boy had been too shy, just observing Wooyoung from a distance, but Wooyoung would have none of that. He wanted a friend, and the smaller boy was dearly fun when Wooyoung got him out of his shell. And when everyone else was too afraid of him to stick around or get remotely close to him, San stayed, as if nothing at all had changed. San treated him just the same, never showing fear or hesitating to hug him, even when other people forgot and tried to rile Wooyoung and he lashed out, graying the floor, shadows reaching out to the person just enough to scare but never to hurt them anymore. And so they grew up together, always close to one another, until it was time for San to go away and train as a soldier. San’s father and his grandfather had been soldiers; there were expectations that San would be one too, and the boy didn’t want to disappoint his family, so he went away. Secretly, he wanted to get stronger to protect Wooyoung. In honesty, San was more teased than Wooyoung, body too scrawny and weak to really do anything, and he wanted to be able to defend his younger friend more. Not because San feared the shadows and grays that could hurt others, but because San feared one day Wooyoung might hurt himself. But that moment of goodbye was etched deep into Wooyoung’s mind and heart, tears falling down both of their faces as they clung to each  other, promises of letters and visitations whispered as the wagon awaited with other naive teenagers hoping for a better chance in life.

And so years passed, both boys keeping their promises of sending letters, but visitations were more complicated and couldn’t happen, so they had to make do with words on parchment and the hope that they would see each other again. While San was becoming a soldier, Wooyoung turned to books. He borrowed as many as he could, learning about different subjects and places, but his favorite to read were his mother’s and grandmother’s recipes, passed down generations, and a few other books he found on mixing different ingredients, sometimes foreign concoctions he one day would like to travel to taste and further explore. But his mother was aging, and he also needed to help sustain her, so he found a job in the only place that would accept him. A tavern in a shady part of town, with suspect elements and rough clients, ones the owner figured would be less rowdy in the mere threat of Wooyoung’s presence. And they were; all it took was a drunkard acting up and Wooyung’s shadows quickly taking him down just enough to sober up and fear for his life, and then the tavern became a much nicer workplace for him. The money was enough for the moment, and sometimes he could even go to the kitchen and try out some cooking.

The letters that Wooyoung and San exchanged were sparse due to how long it took them to arrive, for San was in the heart of the kingdom, but the pages were always filled to the max, sometimes with ink smudges from how fast they were trying to write about their days and hands were careless in their rush to communicate thoughts and feelings. San had been worried about the tavern, even if Wooyoung downplayed what happened there in the beginning, and he could not wait to go back to his friend. Wooyoung also hid - he would never admit he hid it, just omitted - how much his shadows had grown during all this time apart, sometimes almost taking over his body during the night, and thankfully he had always been alone when those moments happened. Wooyoung read of San’s adventures as a soldier in training, just as worried when he told him of creatures fought with the royal guard, and of his new friendships, glad that San was growing into someone who was not as shy anymore, even if he did sometimes wonder if San had ever loved one of them as much as he said to love Wooyoung. And more years passed, with San learning to fight different creatures other than humans. Never to fight Wooyoung, he tried to reassure him with underlined words, but now that he knew of evil creatures lurking in forests and water, he needed to know how to keep them safe. Because in both of their minds, there was no doubt they would go on adventures when finally reunited, getting away from prying eyes to finally be free to be together.

And then the much awaited time arrived. Wooyoung was at the town entrance, trying to be patient, clutching San’s last letter to him tight in his hand. He was pacing until he heard the sound of horses approaching. He had been expecting the same old wagon that took San to this far away place to bring him back, but to his surprise, there was no cart. The few boys that had left all those years ago were now back as men, and Wooyoung was looking at them, looking for his old friend, and he almost didn’t recognize him. That young lithe kid had become a man, strong arms holding the reins, muscular thighs on each side of the saddle as he came to a stop before Wooyoung. But there it was, the same warm smile towards him. He dismounted and ran to Wooyoung, not a care in the world about what people would think about them, tears running down their faces, an embrace so tight not a single strand of hair could come between them. 

All the worry was dissipated. While Wooyoung paced back and forth waiting for San’s return, he could feel himself growing antsy, hands shaking, his body threatening to lose control. He struggled to dominate whatever that part of him was - and for all his love for books, he never researched it, in fear of what he would find. He saw that the pieces of grass he had been standing on while waiting had turned to gray, and his heart was in agony, not wanting to hurt the innocent people around him. But as soon as San took him into his arms, the shadows inside him started to settle down, almost as if there was an invisible string tying them, securing them enough until it would be necessary to free them. A shudder ran through his body, for it had been forever since he felt this relieved, this light. If he concentrated enough on the feeling, he could almost see a faint gold coloration in this string, a string that he found was connected to San’s body.

And then suddenly every single moment of his youth made sense. It was as if he was watching moving pictures; his entire childhood passing before his eyes from another person’s perspective and moments when he was about to lose control but nothing happened, as if a force was helping restrain him, he now saw that San had been somewhere around the vicinity. San had always protected him. San had always loved him, just as he stated in all of those letters. There had never been anyone else for Wooyoung but San, and San’s entire being had been focused on becoming stronger, better, a warrior for Wooyoung. Time was wondrous, and it had only enhanced their bond. With blurry vision, he finally paid attention to San’s armor, seeing how deep these feelings for each other truly ran. The filigrees were made to almost mimic his shadow tendrils, curving around his shoulders, chest, and waist. Some of the decorations even almost looked like a W; Wooyoung was San’s whole reason for his newfound strength. And in that moment, they forgot all about the few people around them. Their lips touched in a salty and wet first kiss, with promises of more to come. After all, they had been made for each other, fated to be together. 

Woo and San Pov

“Is she gone.” Wooyoung whispers around the corner. “Give it a minute to make sure it’s all clear.” San whispers back making his way over to the window watching you get into your car and driving off. “Okay, it’s clear.” Wooyoung comes bounding back into the room full of excitement. “She’ll be gone for around 3 hours that gives us plenty of time to get everything ready.” San said heading to the kitchen and pulling out the food ingredients he’s kept hidden for the last 2 days. “Can you give me a hand in getting food prepped then while I’m cooking could you get the room and table ready?” Wooyoung was so excited to be helpful he couldn’t help but let out an excited squeal. San gave him a light chuckle before giving him a kiss on the cheek and walking off to get started on food with Wooyoung following close behind.

Food preparations were going well, everything was ready to go, the dessert San and Wooyoung made together was setting in the fridge and while San was busy cooking the main meal Wooyoung was prepping the room, he’d laid out a nice table cloth, set the table with the best table wear you had to offer and the last job on the list was to light a load of candles around the room and on the table but that was to be done when you were almost home. Wooyoung stood back and admired his work, a wide smile creeping onto his face. “Do you think she’ll like it?” Wooyoung asked making his way over to San peering over his shoulder to watch the food cooking. “She’ll love it, you did a great job.” San coos leaning his head on Wooyoung’s. “Do you think we should give y/n a call so she can make her way back?” Before answering Wooyoung, San turns to check the time realizing you’d already been gone 2 hours. “Yeah I’ll give her a call now, I’m gonna have to make it a bit dramatic so she hurries home, you okay with that?” He asks with a wicked smile on his face, Wooyoung giving the same smile in return knowing exactly what he had in mind.

Your pov

You’d been walking around town for what feels like forever and you were only now getting to the end of San’s list, you didn’t even want to look at Wooyoung’s. You were about to walk into your next store when your phone began to ring, it was San. “Hey, how’s the work coming along?” you ask trying to cover your exhausted tone. “It’s okay but you need to come home.” San answered sounding a little panicked. Your heart started to pound at the tone of his voice. “San, what did you do this time?” Your voice started to shake. “Wooyoung was messing around and he fell, pretty badly, I think he’s broken something I need your help please come home as fast as you can.” While you were in a blind panic in the middle of town your boyfriends were at home trying to keep their laughter in, trying not to break the ruse. “I’ll be home in 15 minutes don’t worry.” You hang up the phone and rush back to your car, the shopping now the least of your worries.

You get home leaving the shopping in the car, your main priority right now was getting Wooyoung to a hospital. You burst through the door breathing heavily only to be met by Wooyoung stood in front of you, not hurt, perfectly fine. “Woo, what happened? You look fine...Why are you smiling like that?” Your panic now turned to confusion as you look at the huge grin plastered on your boyfriend’s face. “Come with me.” He whispers covering your eyes and leading you to the dinning room. “I love you, I hope you know that.” he giggles into your ear and pressing a kiss to your cheek before removing his hands from your eyes, letting you take in the sight of the candle lit dinner laid out in front of you. You were lost for words, everything was so beautiful the table was like something out of a romance movie, the smell of freshly cooked food hitting your nose and not to mention the sight of your boyfriends stood in front of you, looking so handsome and their smiles alone brightening the dim candle lit room. “What is all of this?” You finally manage to say not breaking your stare from the table. “We did it.” Wooyoung sang happily, pleased with your reaction. “We wanted to surprise you, that’s why we sent you out with stupidly long shopping lists, we needed you gone for a while without looking suspicious.” San beams, also happy with the response. “You did this for me?” Your eyes started to fill with tears, the love you felt was so overwhelming, they were too much, too sweet. “It’s all for you.” They say as they bring you into a hug seeing how emotional you were getting. “You guys are too much. Thank you.” you give them both light pecks before San pulls away. “Come on take a seat, the food will get cold.”