Chapter Text
SAN
San never stopped to think about how to label his friendship with Yeosang, but after a lot of time thinking under the warm water of his eight in the morning shower, he reaches a conclusion: looking at Yeosang makes his heart race in a way totally different than when he is sharing breakfast with Seonghwa. At first it confuses him, deciding it must be because he also shares an apartment with Yeosang. Even when Seonghwa is his best friend, Yeosang shared the shower with him once and, well, that for sure makes a relationship bloom stronger. But it’s not until Yeosang crawls into his bed late and night and dead falls on top of his chest when he realizes that maybe, just maybe , the way he automatically wraps his arms around his body and makes room for him to sleep is trying to tell him something. Something he doesn’t actually catches.
It’s late at night when it occurs for the first time.
Sharing an apartment with four dudes it’s not something San would call lovely — even when they have Yunho cleaning and cooking for them like a mother, carrying what Wooyoung likes to call the tree house leader role. With Wooyoung throwing his clothes around every time he comes home from practice, Mingi forgetting to do their laundry and Yeosang leaving brushes and paint-water glasses everywhere — Wooyoung once drank from one —, things are complicated. Not to talk about the five of them sharing a single bathroom and the amount of socks Wooyoung likes to steal from his drawer without asking for them.
But that’s something he can live with, because he has also his things — like running away every time it’s chores day and then coming home with puppy eyes just so Yunho doesn’t get mad.
What’s difficult is that sometimes, deciding where the line between what they can do and what they shouldn’t ever think about doing is very hard.
For example, snuggling together on the couch while watching a movie. Totally cool. He loves to do that with Mingi.
Opening the door of his room at four in the morning and getting on his bed without asking — keypoint: without , because Wooyoung loves sleeping there, but he always tells him before actually doing it —, hmmm, not that cool.
San blinks, startled at first, believing it’s Mingi again trying to prank him — even when they all told him that pranks on a shared apartment aren’t common, neither nice. But it’s just Yeosang, cold fingers meeting San’s nape as he quickly gets inside the covers and hugs him — and San’s body follows a little. Automatically. Also, weirdly, because Yeosang is not that clingy and San believes is the first time in that year they hug.
“What?” He wonders in a whisper, not moving at all, one hand over Yeosang’s hair. A little excited the scary cat got close to him, a little scared of scaring him away.
The boy remains silent for a second, then sighs and moves aside, hiding his face on the pillow. San is thankful his bed is big enough for the two of them to fit in, even when their legs are brushing and one of Yeosang’s hands is still hanging from one of his shoulders. He smells like paint, but San is used to that.
“I’m blocked,” Yeosang mumbles. “Nothing is coming out nice. I’ve been all day inside my room, I needed some rest.”
San takes a deep breath, fully awake by now. Yet, he doesn’t move, listening to the loudness of his own heart. He has to admit it makes him a little happy that Yeosang chose him to go in the middle of a block, because Yeosang is the most quiet of them all. He is always on his room, painting or whatever, because that’s a private place none of them have ever entered. Yeosang barely spends time watching movies with them, he is always working.
He is happy he likes San a little more — he will for sure use it against Wooyoung, who claims he is the most loved.
“So you came here?” He asks in a small voice, gulping. A little nervous.
“Your bed is comfy,” Yeosang mumbles, moving closer until his face is digging into the crook of his neck and San is internally screaming. Without a reason, because they’re friends. There shouldn’t be a reason for them to not sleep together, right? Wooyoung has slept there plenty of times, when they stay until late playing games or just chatting, saying he is too tired to go back to his own room even when it’d take him nothing but half a minute.
But Yeosang, it’s weird for him to initiate it.
And is weird for him to just doing it in the middle of the night, fiercely believing San would accept it without problems — and he does, because Yeosang is his favorite, but Yunho doesn’t need to know that.
Maybe he drank from the wrong glass of water and he is feeling dizzy.
Maybe San is just having a very nice lucid dream.
“You always make me feel better, San,” he says again, making San’s heart go from fast to faster and almost rip a hole on his chest. He clears his throat, finally moving and giving Yeosang his back, eyes burning the wall in front ot him. He makes a ball out of his body and closes his fists. Tight. Okay, that’s for sure crossing the line. What does that mean?
“Hmm.”
“Can I rest here for a while?”
San doesn’t speak again, nodding and hoping for the movement of the mattress to be enough to answer him. Internally, he wants to be alone, but that would sound shitty so he allows Yeosang to curl himself next to his back, not hugging him, but pressing his forehead into one of his shoulder blades, directly breathing into his neck so that way San can feel how it gets slower as he falls asleep incredibly fast. He can’t go back to sleep even when he has an important class in the morning, slowly tying up some threads.
His heart shouldn’t react that way for a simple friend.
Or that friend shouldn’t get in his bed without making an appointment three weeks earlier so he has time to prepare his heart.
—
Yeosang is not next to him when he wakes up, but before thinking it was a dream, he sees the yellow stain that he left on his pillow. Because Yeosang is always covered in paint, it doesn’t matter how many showers he takes a day, if you thread your fingers into his golden hair, you will end up covered in a lot of colors. Wooyoung says Yeosang is just clumsy, but Mingi believes he likes to paint his own skin to taste the colors — San does believe that too.
When San met Yeosang, he had his cheeks already covered in paint. He likes that about Yeosang a lot, it makes him unique. He doesn’t like to rush into the kitchen because he spent half night thinking about the boy curled next to him and didn’t hear the alarm in the morning, though. Yunho is already there, making himself a coffee when San jumps in and throws the stained pillowcase into the washing machine, almost tripping and crashing into Mingi’s ridiculous pile of tangerines.
“Good morning, coffee?” Yunho offers, but San shakes his head, toothbrush hanging from his mouth to save time. “What happened to your pillow? To you, actually.”
San brushes his teeth on the spot, in a hurry, jumping a little before spitting on the kitchen sink, wiping the rest of toothpaste with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Yeosang visited me in the middle of the night. It was dark so I didn’t cheek if he was covered in paint before letting him sleep with me. Hilarious, right?” he says like it’s normal for Yeosang to do that type of things — hint: is not.
Yunho, still, shoots him a soft smile, slowly stirring the coffee. “Yeosang is always covered in paint.”
That’s also right.
But out of the four of them, San is the one that cares the less about Yeosang’s sticky fingers. Mingi hates the smell of paint so he is always spraying Yeosang with cologne every time they hang out together — a one in a million opportunity to spend some quality time the five of them together — yet San finds the smell of paint really pleasant. It reminds him to home, for some reason, even when the only memory he has of painting is that time he painted some sunflowers for his mom during kindergarten. If he thinks about it closely, it’s almost like admitting he loves Yeosang’s smell. But will he say it outloud? Not with that choice of words, obviously.
Roommates are just that, roommates.
Hearts are weird and San sometimes get a little lonely, especially at ass in the morning when he is having some dreams about holding hands and a boy strongly smelling like paint decides to hug him and tell him that, hey, you make me feel better when I’m about to punch the wall and hi five Wooyoung. San will get over it in like a week, when Wooyoung decides to plan another sleepover on his room and they cuddle to sleep.
He picks his keys and runs back to his room, almost walking out of the apartment without his shoes on. As he jumps again, ready to go, he finds Yeosang exiting his room. Hair a mess, wearing nothing more than an oversized white t-shirt — he is sure its Mingi’s — and rubbing his eyes with a hand that sparks in purple, blue and yellow. San sighs, heart doing its thing again.
Okay.
Putting things over the table: Yeosang is cute. Especially when he looks like he is begging for hugs, and San loves hugs. But everyone knows that, is nothing new. Yeosang is cute, so what? That doesn’t make him more boyfriendish, right? San is also very cute and he’s been single for all his life. So what? Can his heart stop being this stupidly dumb?
“Hey,” Yeosang says, then he yawns. “I dreamt with you.”
What the hell, Yeosang.
“Is that so?”
Yeosang nods, hair bouncing. “I think I fell asleep finishing this assignment. It was a nice dream.”
San presses his lips together, teeth quickly finding his lower lip. So Yeosang doesn’t remember about crawling into his bed. That’s a nice thing, he thinks. Much better than him remembering how halfway he decided to move and press his cold nose into San’s neck and never doing it again — San liked it, way too much if he has to put it into words.
“What was it about?” San forgets he has a really important class in like ten minutes, stopping on the corridor like he has all the time of the world, getting curious about some dream that maybe didn’t exist because, huh, it happened for real. “The dream.”
Yeosang stops to think for a second. “Sleeping. Oh, man. I’m so tired I even dream about sleeping. When will this assignment end? Will it end me first?” He wonders, whining a little.
To that, San giggles and waves at him, finally deciding to run to his class and stop looking at how Mingi’s shirt is big enough to show his collarbones in a tempting way. So tempting for a friend.
—
99z SQUAD LET’S GETTTTTTIT
mingi: who was in charge of sorting laundry this week
mingi: i hate u
yunho: wooyoung
san: wooyoung
yeosang: wooyoung
mingi: i hate you SO MUCH
wooyoung: IT WASNT ME
wooyoung: I DID IT LAST WEEK IT WAS YEOSANGS TURN
yeosang: you exchanged it for my last brownie
wooyoung: oh fuck
yunho: wooyoung stop exchanging chores for food
wooyoung: well I cant help it yeosangs mom brownies are delicious
mingi: well
mingi: because of you YEOSANG DESTROYED MY FAVE SHIRT
yeosang: he’s exaggerating
mingi: IT’S SMELLY AND LOOKING LIKE A RAINBOW
san: like you lmao
mingi: IDIOT
yunho: yeosang
yunho: how could you not notice it
yunho: mingi’s three sizes bigger
yeosang: bold of you to think I look at what I put to paint
mingi: wooyoung youre buying me another shirt
wooyoung: fuck YOU
wooyoung: you have like twenty shirts that are the same
yunho: wooyoung, you’re in charge of sorting again
wooyoung: suck my dick
wooyoung: all of you
wooyoung: not you san, I know u will love it
san: I like my meals bigger
wooyoung: IM GONNA MURDER YOU
—
Arriving home, San finds himself wrestling Wooyoung because he had been waiting behind the door like a kid for him. They’re both the same strength, San can even say he is stronger, but today he is just way too exhausted to deal with his annoying ass, so he lets him win — and maybe he shouldn’t because, once again, Wooyoung is fucking annoying.
“I dare you to say my dick is small again,” Wooyoung snorts, sitting on top of him, arms crossed and not moving until San actually apologises for it. “C’mon!”
“That sounds weird,” Yunho laughs from the couch, “get a room.”
Luckily, that’s enough for Wooyoung to get distracted, San using its chance to flip him over and ran away to his room and faceplant into the mattress after what he can say was the longest day of his life. Not only he arrived late because of his Yeosang incident in the morning, he also forgot he had practice in the afternoon and didn’t prepare food beforehand neither brought enough money to buy more than a shitty sandwich, ending it all with him tripping and scratching one of his knees on the way back home. His body feels drained of all energy he had left remained, and the only thing he’s thinking about is taking a shower, having dinner while watching TV and then sleeping for years. Luckily for him, Saturday awaits for him with its arms open. He plans on doing nothing but laying on bed and occasionally crawling to the kitchen for snacks. And maybe not thinking about Yeosang.
The knock on his door brings him back into reality — where he does think about Yeosang —, not even thinking it could be Wooyoung because he’s not polite enough to knock — he’s the type to jump on top of him and dig his head on his sternon. San turns on his heels, finding Yeosang there. The boy gives him some sad eyes that make San’s heart flutter a little.
“Hey, what happens?”
Yeosang doubts a little before stepping inside the room and closing the door at his back. He has changed into more comfortable — and his own — clothes. It’s nothing more but sweatpants and an old gray hoodie he’s always wearing around when he is frustrated. That worries San, who gathers all the strength he has left to stand up and walk towards him, awkwardly standing in front of him, not knowing what to do with his hands.
“Why didn’t you tell me it wasn’t a dream?”
San panics a little, stepping backwards.
“Hmm?”
“Yunho scolded at me,” Yeosang pouts, crossing his arms. San catches how his fingers still have little stains of paint. “Mostly because Mingi wanted to sue me for using his shirt, but also because apparently I stained your pillowcase too. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, no,” San quickly moves the same step forward, putting both hands over Yeosang’s shoulders. He gives him a little smile. “Don’t worry about that. I had to do my laundry eventually, Wooyoung slept here last week and I think he ate your brownie at like five in the morning.”
That makes Yeosang laugh a little, edges of his mouth pointing up.
“That’s nasty.”
“Wooyoung’s nasty,” San says loud enough for the boy to hear, opening the door just a second after to fight San once again.
Three minutes later, Wooyoung bending his arm behind his back, San finally surrenders and kicks him out of the room. Wooyoung sticks his tongue at him, kissing Yeosang’s cheek as he exists. San rolls his eyes. “He’s like a kid.”
Yeosang laughs a little, slowly moving his feet over the tiles, drawing something only he can see. He’s still standing by the doorframe, so after another solid minute thinking about it, San finally reaches his arms out and asks him to come. Too tired for standing up again. Yeosang, as always, doubts a little. And maybe he only drags his bare feet — he is wearing bee socks — towards the bed and places his body in between San’s arms because he feels guilty.
It’s been a year since they met, enough time for San to know who’s the clingiest of them all — Wooyoung, without doubt — and who dislikes contact the most — that’s Yeosang. Maybe for that San always craved it. Hugging him, sharing a moment. Whatever. Having Yeosang on his arms, his paint scent filling his nostrils, that makes him happy. Strangely happy. Rubbing Yeosang’s back, holding him close with the other arm, he goes through a silent panic attack because his heart is racing again and he is totally sure Yeosang can feel it against his own chest.
The boy doesn’t say it though, cheek pressed onto his shoulder, arms hanging from there too.
“You can sleep in my bed whenever you want,” San mumbles after a while, voice trembling a little, crying internally when Yeosang shakes his negative against his neck. “For real. It doesn’t bother me at all.”
“It’s okay,” Yeosang moves, standing on his heels. “I don’t want to shower every time I go to sleep. But thanks for always being so nice.”
It hurts to admit it, San’s chest setting on fire as he holds on the I don’t care about the paint he’s too scared to say out loud. He smiles, defeated, and waves Yeosang as he goes into his room and closes the door. It doesn’t take Wooyoung a lot to come back and wrestle him again, always full of energy, until San is screaming for help.
Only Yunho responds to that.
—
San has some issues, and it’s not the same ones as when he found out the reason he didn’t like Han Hyerin’s ponytail — when everyone was drooling about it — was because he liked his brother’s — Hyerin’s — shaved nape more instead. Finding out he was into boys make him panic a little, but everyone in his family was cool about it, so after telling Seonghwa he felt a little relieved and started babbling about how he might’ve been into baseball boys.
Right now it’s different because he might have a tiny, super tiny, extra tiny crush on some guy whose name starts with an Y and has paint all over his face and shares the apartment with him, which is something they all talked about once: thinking your roommate is handsome? Yes. Jerking off thinking about your roommate? Weird, but if you don’t say it outloud, then okay. Falling in love with your roommate? Fucking no, idiot.
It’s been almost two weeks and San still rolls in bed, eyes wide open even when the clock marks two in the morning and he has a lecture at eight, waiting for his door to crack open and the smell of paint fill in everything. But it doesn’t happen, and for some reason, that makes him a little moody.
It wasn’t like that before, for that, is totally a problem.
“Is not even spring yet,” he groans, Seonghwa stopping typing to raise a brow at him, asking for more information about that weird statement. “You know, my mom always says people falls in love more easily during spring. Something about blooming feelings. Do you think that I might be actually in love? Is that even possible? We showered together once and nothing happened!”
Seonghwa goes back to his assignment, sighing a little. “I don’t know, San. Your brain works in a weird way.”
“Thanks, best friend. That’s another thing,” he gasps, gesturing in the air. “When I look at you, I’m mostly like meh , but lately looking at Yeosang makes my legs feel like jelly and my heart race and I just want to kiss him. Do you get me?”
Seonghwa frows, not even looking up from the screen of his laptop, so San can’t be sure if it’s because of him or whatever he has to finish before 12 A.M.
“That sounds pretty in love for me,” he mumbles, typing fast. “But it can also be the effect of him sleeping with you. We humans always seek for contact, maybe is just that.”
San has to frown at that, because he doesn’t want to kiss Wooyoung.
“And how can I know which one is? Because I’m going crazy, I live with him, you know?”
“I don’t know,” Seonghwa shrugs, finally giving up and meeting the chair’s back. He covers his face with both hands before speaking. “Kiss him? Try to see if you like him that way or just want hugs. I hope it’s the second, you don’t need to date to hug someone. And dating a roommate would be bothersome. For both of us, actually.”
San raises his arms in the air, ignoring everything he said.. “Hug me, then.”
“Oh, no, I’m a married man,” Seonghwa shakes his head, pointing at his laptop. “I need to focus on him and only him.”
San rolls his eyes, thinking about it for a while before picking his things and heading back home. It’s not like he can concentrate anyway. If he fails his physiology class again, it’s going to be entirely Kang Yeosang’s fault.
Yeosang, who’s not on his room when he, stupidly, stands in front and knocks on his door hoping he will let him in for the first time in forever — actually, it makes San’s skin itch a little, always curious about what does Yeosang hides there. Sometimes, a thing he had been dreaming about way before Yeosang crawled into his bed and hugged him out of nowhere — more known as the time Yeosang made him rethink some things like is this normal or should I marry this man? —, he lets his mind wander. Thinking about Yeosang having the bedroom floor covered in unfinished drawings, or a big mural on the ceiling, or the walls filled with different shades of purple because he is too lazy to try them on the canvas and the skin of his forearms is already shining in colors. He wants to know how does he ends up covered in so much paint. Yeosang’s room might be a museum and San is sleeping just two meters away for it, missing it.
“He’s out with Mingi,” Yunho says from the couch, feeding Wooyoung some popcorn as they watch anime. San wrinkles his nose, hands sweating a little at those words. “To buy him another shirt.”
San moves into the living room, patting Wooyoung’s legs so he makes him room on the couch, ending with them on his lap, forehead resting into Yunho’s shoulder. “Weren’t you in charge of that?” He mumbles, pressing a finger into Wooyoung’s forehead. The boy stares, throwing a kiss at him before facing the TV to keep up with the episode, hand patting Yunho’s leg, asking for more popcorn.
“I gave Yeosang extra money for his brushes, he says he’s doing something big and needs like hundred of brushes,” Wooyoung explains. “Today’s anime night, I couldn’t miss it.”
It’s four in the afternoon, but San decides to not fight back and stays with them for a while, not actually understanding their love for anime, getting bored when Wooyoung stands up to go to the bathroom and tells him the night is young. Sometimes, San wonders how does Yunho keeps up with so much Wooyoung-energy.
“Yun, can I ask you something?” He mumbles as Wooyoung pees.
“Of course.”
San frowns a little. “Do you think you can fall in love with a friend? You know, without being weird.”
Yunho rests his head in one of his arms, lazily looking at him, almost like he has not energy at all to reply. It makes San a little nervous, because it’s just then when he realizes what he asked, and that Yunho totally knows that he only has five close friends, and these are Seonghwa — that’s more like a brother than a friend at this point — and them. It’s not like he doesn’t trust Yunho, but he is not sure about what the hell does he feel for Yeosang — a crush, that’s starting to seem like that. But maybe is a friend’s crush. Wanting to hug a friend crush. Or something like that. He doesn’t need to be precisely in love with Yeosang. Or does he?
“What,” Yunho chuckles, hitting his shoulder in an adorable way, “are you in love with me?”
San goes red, hitting him back. “It’s not that!”
“I was joking. Is our Sanie going through his first love issue?”
San crosses his arms, shoving him away. “Is just a question,” he mumbles, shrugging.
“Well, I don’t know what to say, but sometimes love can be a little weird. Feelings, actually, are hard to decipher at this age. Just be sure if you feel something for a friend, whatever it is, it won’t break your friendship,” Yunho runs a hand through San’s hair, bringing him close in half a hug. “Most of the time, your feelings won’t be answered the way you want. You need to be cautious,” he mumbles over his hair.
That doesn’t make San feel any better. In any case, he goes to bed with a lot more of things rumbling on his head. Yeosang is a good friend, a friend he doesn’t want to lose. He for sure doesn’t want to lose Yeosang.
—
It’s been almost three days since the last time San saw Yeosang. Yunho tells him he’s been invested in some assignment and sleeping throughout the day, painting at night — because, apparently, Yeosang is something like a little owl and he feels more energized when the moon and the stars start dancing in the black canvas the night sky is — but San can’t help the little worry alarm that starts ringing deep down his chest. He wonders things: Is he eating? Is he getting a good rest? Is he thinking about him too late at night?
Waking up next to Wooyoung doesn’t help him get better, but he still hugs the boy tightly — ignoring his morning complains — and closes his eyes as his nose falls into the skin of his neck. Wooyoung smells a lot different. Like cologne and a little like dry sweat, it makes San want to hug him more. Totally contrary to Yeosang’s soft scent, the one that makes him all warm and nostalgic, falling into calm water and drifting away from reality.
Sleeping with Wooyoung isn’t changing the fact he wants Yeosang to come into his room again.
“San,” Wooyoung complains again, kicking his leg in the air, “stops drooling all over my neck. It’s fucking gross.”
San moves when he notices, wiping the rest of saliva that’s still dripping from his lips, cleaning it from Wooyoung then. The boy has the audacity to roll and push him, still not moving from San’s own bed. Instead of kicking him off and sending him to his own and almost unworn bed, San stands up and walks towards the bathroom, noticing he has time enough to take a long, warm shower before going to lecture to keep thinking about Yeosang.
Oh, Yeosang.
He’s also there.
“Morning,” he grunts as they bump shoulders, flicking his bangs to see who he is. His expression softens as he notices it’s San the one standing like a fool in the middle of the door. “Shower?”
San noods.
“Do you mind if we take it together?” Yeosang asks, already pulling his shirt over his head, paint falling from his neck like a waterfall. It’s not like San wants to look, is that it’s right in front of his eyes. He wonders how did the paint get there. “I want to go to sleep smelling like Mingi’s melon shampoo, not paint. I will end up hating my job if I keep like this.”
San could have told him the truth. Please, Yeosang, take it first, I don’t have class until ten and it’s seven. But he decides to lie and nod, closing the door behind his back, turning on his heels when Yeosang starts taking off his pants.
They showered together before. It’s totally cool, he thinks, peeking a little on the mirror and catching Yeosang’s body line. Beautiful.
He shakes his head, the water softly falling on the other side of the curtain, getting rid of his clothes and trying to keep his gaze up all the time. They’re friends. Friends shower together. Totally normal when they’re five and there’s only one bathroom. Yeosang is standing under the water with his eyes closed, almost like he fell asleep, enjoying the warmth. San stares at him for what it seems an eternity before they’re switching places, Yeosang totally going for Mingi’s shampoo.
“It’s been ages since I took a shower,” he purrs.
San laughs under his breath, changing the warm water for something a little colder. “I think Wooyoung didn’t shower last night after his practice, and he went straight to my bed.”
“That’s nasty,” Yeosang says, adding with a giggle, “and gay.”
San’s brain stops working for a second, to go full speed right after. He never stopped to think about that, actually, Yeosang never really shared what he liked with them. They did a meeting not much after meeting, when Wooyoung apologised for the future boners he would totally pop from time to time because he was a big bisexual and Yunho was way too sexy. But Yeosang remained silent that time.
It’s not like thinks he’s straight… Or maybe he didn’t think of that until now.
“San, water,” the boy begs, moving to clean his soapy hair. “Cold! How can you shower with cold water?”
If only you knew what I am going through right now.
He shampoos his hair, not so accidentally using Mingi’s shampoo too, still thinking about it. Now he has to add another thing to his I am in love with Yeosang or it’s just the spring vibe list, going directly under the I’m not in love because he used my toothbrush to paint a sunset once ( I’m not in love because he might be straight and ugh ) — but he also has a lot of I’m in love because ’s like the one he’s gonna add after the shower ( I’m in love because he has a pretty backbone ). That list is not really helping.
Yeosang has to hit him in the arm to get out, and finally, San is left alone with his problems and a lot of cold water.
—
99z GANG LETS GETTTTTTIT
mingi: who the fuck is using my shampoo
mingi: istg buy your own shampoo fuckers
san: idk who but i can tell u who didnt
san: wooyoung, bc he doesnt shower
wooyoung: can someone kick san out
wooyoung: bc if I do it myself ill end up kicking his ass out of the apartment
san: youre obsessed with my ass
yunho: what did I say about flirting here?
wooyoung: WERE NOT FLIRTING
wooyoung: who wants a flat ass anyway
wooyoung: YUNHO HELP
wooyoung: HES BANGING AT MY DOOR
yeosang: shshhshshhshsshshsh
yeosang: im trying to sleep
mingi: was it u right yeosang
mingi: I can smell melon from here
yeosang: it was san
san. YEOSANG TRAITOR U ALSO USED IT
mingi: WHY DON’T YOU BUY YOUR OWN FUCKING THINGS
yunho: okay san don’t murder wooyoung we need him to pay rent
wooyoung: wow nice!
yunho: im on the supermarket mingi ill buy you more shampoo
yunho: im gonna buy tons of shampoo so you stop stealing
wooyoung: can someone tell me if san is still on my door i need to pee
san: use a cup, dickhead
—
San’s door crack open in the middle of the night, and contrary to the past days, he’s dead asleep when it happens. So he doesn’t notices the softly sound of bare feet over the floor, neither the crack of his bed with the added weight. He does notice the smack on his shoulder, though, confusedly blinking and waving his hands in the air. He hits someone before turning on the lights, finding no other but Yeosang there, kneeling on the mattress.
“Oh, shit,” San quickly sits down in the bed, still half asleep, hands over his body. “I thought it was Wooyoung again.”
“Stupid ass,” Yeosang mumbles, and San doesn’t know if he’s talking about Wooyoung or himself.
“What happens?”
Yeosang inflates his chest, putting both his hands down. San notices how he is wearing a hoodie that’s totally his. “Fuck, did Wooyoung forgot to sort again?”
His hands fly to the fabric, Yeosang’s eyes following his fingers before shaping his pink lips in a perfect “o”. His cheek get painted in a soft shade of pink, blonde hair creating shadows on his face that hides it perfectly for San’s eyes to see.
“Oh, I guess. I’ll give it back after washing it.”
“Yeosang,” San sighs, falling into the mattress again, closing his eyes as the light is too bright. He is tired.
“What?”
“Nothing. So, why are you here?”
Silence fills the room with the same elegance the scent of paint does, mixing a little with the melon aroma that’s still hanging from his hair. Usually, Yeosang ties his hair up while painting, but he has it down today — tonight, whatever hour is. San finally went to sleep at a reasonable hour (mostly because he spent the whole afternoon wrestling Wooyoung) just to dream about Han Hyerin’s baseball brother whose name never got. He patiently waits for the boy to speak, but the only thing he gets is the crack of the bed again as Yeosang gets off. He opens his eyes then, looking at him, confused.
“Nothing,” he shakes his head. “Forget it.”
San groans. “You woke me up for this?”
Yeosang closes the door instead of replying, and even though it takes San just a few seconds to fall asleep again, when he wakes up in the morning he feels bad about it.
—
Apologizing was never one of San’s strengths, and for that he ends up sharing another anime night with Wooyoung and Yunho, Mingi joining them after a while. For a moment, they all wait for Yeosang to show up, but he doesn’t, light of his room on, a little noise coming from time to time.
“What does Yeosang like?” He asks, thumb fighting Mingi under the blankets.
“In bed?” Wooyoung asks from his place between Yunho’s legs, eyes not moving from the screen as some dude — San doesn’t know the name — fights some type of monster with a hole where its heart is supposed to be — San doesn’t even know what the hell they’re watching. “Or like, in general?”
“In general, thanks.”
Wooyoung shrugs. “I can’t help you with that.”
Yunho kicks him, turning his face to San then. “What do you mean? Sangie’s birthday is not until June. If you’re buying him something, you better have something ready for my birthday that is,” he adds, looking at Mingi first, kicking Wooyoung again, “in one month.”
“The only thing you’re getting is me, grandpa,” Wooyoung retorts.
“Can I get the purchase ticket? I want to exchange you for a better roommate.”
Wooyoung laughs, hitting him on the leg. “You love me.”
“Gross,” Mingi rolls his eyes next to him, laughing between his teeth as he wins for the tenth time in a row. San wants to believe he’s not focussed enough on the match to not admit his hands are like baby hands in between Mingi’s.
“I think I made him mad the other day,” San keeps on going, mumbling, low enough so he can protect himself if Yeosang is listening at the other side of the door, even though they all know once Yeosang starts painting, he goes into a trance. “I want to buy him something that cheers him a little. He’s been working a lot.”
“Brushes,” the three of them say at the same time, “and if you want him to suck your dick, acrylic paint,” that’s only Wooyoung saying who, obviously, gets shoved off the couch.
San takes a mental note, hissing under his breath as Mingi wins yet another time, not fighting back the hug he gives right after.
Brushes.
And maybe some acrylic paint.
—
San spends a lot of time trying to decide what color he should buy — because he is a poor college student and after a week smelling like melon (all fucking of them) he needs to save some money to buy shampoo —, finally deciding on buying Brilliant Purple after one hour because 1) he loves purple and 2) Yeosang is always wearing some shade of purple, and it really suits him.
It’s been almost a month since Yeosang hugged him without asking. And he never did it again.
Standing in front of his door, San is still unsure about what he feels. Drawn to Yeosang is a way of calling it. But as Seonghwa said, it can also mean that he only lacks the touch. Yeosang’s touch, though. His fingers feel differently, the way he breathes feels different. Sleeping with Yeosang felt nice — not taking in count the almost heart attack he went through.
He knocks softly, because is almost 1 A.M. Still, he is able to hear the sound of feet moving on the other side of the door, Yeosang tripping with something before finally opening the door. His hair is pulled up with a red hair clip, and aside from the paint that’s covering his forehead and the tip of his nose, he is still wearing San’s hoodie, that is getting more and more sparkled in paint. Yeosang squints, not opening the door enough for San to see what’s inside.
“It’s late,” he mumbles.
San shows him the bag with the art supplies, using it as a reply.
“What’s that?” Yeosang asks, eyes widening a little, totally recognizing the shop’s logo imprinted in the bag as that’s the shop he always buys his material from. His eyes flutter from the bag to San, fingers moving in the air.
“I bought you some paint,” San places the bag on his hands. “And some brushes. I don’t know what you’re doing though, but I asked the lady in charge and she said that Yeosangie has been buying a lot of rigger brushes lately ,” he smiles when Yeosang gives in and smiles, picking the color and looking at it from close, eyes sparkling for a moment. “I don’t know what a rigger brush is, but I got you four in different sizes. And purple paint, because I love purple.”
“San,” Yeosang sighs, closing his eyes before wrapping his arms around his neck and bringing him close into a hug. San melts, feeling how his body easily gives in, jelly legs appearing again. Yeosang smells so goddamn good. “You’re amazing, but you didn’t have to, idiot.”
“You’ve been working a lot,” he whispers, hugging him tightly, and just then, he decides to open his eyes and peeking a little. Yeosang’s door is left open behind him, and San finally can see it. There’s a canvas in the middle of the room, the bed in the corner, a lot of diary paper on the floor and a ladder. A lot of paint and water glasses. But what amazes him, is that somehow, he got it right, and it the ceiling of Yeosang’s room, there’s a full starry sky. “Wow.”
“Oh, fuck,” Yeosang moves, following San’s gaze, voice trembling a little when he speaks again. “You shouldn’t have seen that. It’s not finished.”
It’s beautiful.
“Yunho will kill you if he sees it,” San half jokes, being pulled in by Yeosang cold fingers, door closing behind his back.
“He doesn’t need to know,” he takes a finger to his lips, eyes pointing at the ceiling then. “What do you think?” He asks, placing his arms on his hips. San follows his gaze, slowly analyzing it. It’s beautiful, and it’s big. And it’s totally something Yeosang would do. “I always loved stargazing, but it’s so difficult to find a starry sky in the city.”
“It’s amazing,” San finally says, lowering his gaze to look at Yeosang. “It’s beautiful.”
The boy looks back, smiling. “Thanks. Would you let me try the brushes and the paint?”
San can’t say no to his excitement, almost like discovering a new faucet of he boy, both of them sitting on his bed. And he likes it. His first time on Yeosang’s room, on Yeosang’s bed, and it feels exactly how he thought it would feel. Warm.
Yeosang takes his hand, finger slowly moving over his forearm, rolling up the sleeve of his hoodie. San allows him to use his fair skin as a canvas, first brush moving smoothly over it, tickling him and making both of them giggle, quickly covering their mouths with a hand so they don’t wake up Wooyoung — that’s sleeping next door.
Yeosang draws a lot of stars using the brilliant purple, and after he is satisfied with his job, they both lay on their backs and look at the unfinished starry sky that’s above their heads.
“This is what you’ve been working on?”
Yeosang nods.
“I had some assignments too, but I wanted to finish this as soon as possible. I know the landlord will find out someday and I will have to paint over, I wanted to enjoy it for the longest time.”
“Let’s keep it as a secret,” San mumbles, moving his head over the mattress, finding Yeosang’s tired eyes. “Our secret.”
He gulps, waiting for an answer. Yeosang smiles a little, resting his head over San’s shoulder, so when he speaks, he can feel it all over his skin.
“I like how that sounds, starboy.”
If that’s the label Yeosang wants to put them, then San will be happy to call them starboys until he finds out what does he actually want to call him. For now, he stays the night under the stars, Yeosang falling asleep on top of him.