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“Sannie...”
A voice, softly calling for him, pulling him away from the physical and mental torture that’s the textbook he’s trying to decipher.
“Hm?” he answers absentmindedly, trying his best to maintain his focus, his mind desperately pulling him away from the words on the page.
Of course he wants nothing more than to throw away all of his stupid notes and drop all of his stupid classes and give his undivided attention to the boy who’s singing his name so sweetly. And who’s definitely a far more pleasant view than the blocks of text that he’s rapidly giving up trying to understand.
But he can’t.
He huffs, frustrated, rereading the same sentence, the same phrase, for what must be the hundredth time, trying to comprehend what the hell it’s saying. School seems so far away now. What subject is he even studying for? What kind of exam does he have to pass? What’s even the point of studying? What’s the point of life?
“I’m gonna go to the garden. You wanna come with me?”
And in that very moment, it clicks. San realizes how much he needs this break, needs to take his mind off of this. How much he’s longed for such a request from the boy by his side.
His best friend.
His boyfriend.
He raises his head, eyes going wide. His heart skips a beat like the very first time he ever saw him and soars as his brain forgets what he’s doing, what’s causing him stress.
Wooyoung’s looking at him adoringly, a gentle smile on his unfairly angelic face, his soft black hair framing his face perfectly. His eyes scrunch up into crescents, glinting with joy and the little bit of mischief that San can never get enough of.
San feels his breath catching in his throat and he feels his face heating up in a furious blush, heart going crazy in his chest. They’ve been friends since they were children, and have been dating for almost a year now, but still San can’t believe his eyes every time he looks at Wooyoung. How Wooyoung, so amazing and stunning and perfect, could have chosen to be with him. It never fails to surprise San how Wooyoung only seems to get prettier by the day, each new morning and night allowing San to discover something new and utterly captivating about him.
“So...you’re gonna come?” Wooyoung asks again, blinking innocently, and San feels his heart doing another somersault in his chest, stomach turning over with butterflies.
He’s already answering before he can stop himself, his heart betraying his rationality.
“Yeah, of course,” he murmurs quietly, too dumbstruck to form a proper answer.
Then Wooyoung smiles, and San swears that the world just became brighter. Wooyoung’s eyes shine like the stars and his cheeks bunch up to show that one half-dimple on his left cheek.
San’s falling in love all over again as he gets up, reaching for Wooyoung’s outstretched hand and taking it in his.
*
After walking for a bit in the garden, smelling the roses and listening to the grass crunch under their feet, surrounded by the sweet chirps of birds, they sit under the plumeria tree. It’s Wooyoung's favourite tree, as San knows, and he can see the reason why––it’s beautiful. Its flowers are stunning, their bright white color so clean and pure under the daylight and their scent so subtle yet so deep and inebriating.
And not that San’s being a sap or anything, but it reminds him of Wooyoung.
To put it simply, Wooyoung’s beautiful, delicate and pure like the flower petals, strong like the branches and trunk of the tree.
Rays of sun drip down his skin like showers of amber flecked with gold. They complement his complexion so well, San thinks. Wooyoung’s skin gleams in the light.
They’re sitting under the tree now, San’s head against Wooyoung’s chest, and memorizing the patterns of his heartbeat. Wooyoung’s got his back against the thin trunk, holding San and running his fingers through San’s hair, smoothing out the tangles.
Everything’s calm and peaceful. Everything’s right with the world in this moment.
The wind’s blowing ever so slightly, caressing their faces and carrying the sweet scent of the flowers along with it. The sun on their faces is warm, summery.
Wooyoung's heartbeat is steady. It’s like a melody to San’s ears, a lullaby, the sound so comforting and welcoming. It makes him feel at home.
Wooyoung is his home.
His boyfriend's fingers in his hair are gentle, taking care to not pull too harshly on the strands. He’s paying particular attention to the soft locks at the nape of San’s neck, the motion so loving and tender that San’s eyes automatically close, drifting off, lulled by Wooyoung’s touch.
“You’re letting your hair grow,” Wooyoung remarks quietly, pulling San out of his daydreamy state, his voice reverberating in his chest so that San can feel the melodic vibrations of his words.
San only hums in response, inhaling deeply and calmed by the sweet scent of Wooyoung’s laundry detergent and the flowers carried on the wind.
They stay silent for a few seconds, San seizing the moment to shift and rest his ear even closer to his boyfriend's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
“I like it...it looks good on you.” Wooyoung compliments, voice soft. “I just hope you won’t grow your hair like Hongjoong-hyung did a few years ago.”
San opens his eyes and glares affectionately at the younger, who just scrunches his nose and giggles, high pitched squeaks leaving his pretty lips. San can’t stay mad, though, as his body betrays him and decorates his cheeks crimson, so he just shyly buries his head in his boyfriend's chest because he can’t look him in the eyes anymore.
“You really are a brat,” San replies, voice muffled because he’s speaking into Wooyoung’s hoodie. (Or well, it’s San’s hoodie, but Wooyoung stole it some time ago with a pleading face and San obviously gave in right away.)
“But you love me.”
There’s a pause.
San lifts his head once again, a serious expression on his face, and looks at Wooyoung dead in the eyes––eyes turned into melted caramel, reflecting the sunlight and the sky.
Wooyoung’s blushing, pink dusting his cheeks, looking away to break eye contact after a few moments. San has to fight to keep his expression straight and serious. Wooyoung’s just too cute.
He leans up to get closer, leaving a light kiss on the mole under Wooyoung’s left eye, reveling in the warmth of his flushed skin. He feels his lips turn up ever so slightly as he says the words. “Yes. I love you. So much.”
San’s heart melts when Wooyoung blushes even more, a small smile appearing on his lips. “You’re an idiot,” he retorts, but there’s no menace in it at all.
“But I’m your idiot,” San chuckles, leaving another kiss on Wooyoung’s cheek before going to put his head back on Wooyoung’s lap, looking up at him and feeling Wooyoung’s hands resume playing with his hair.
San doesn’t know how long it is before he feels himself float away again, only brought back to the waking world as Wooyoung presses a gentle kiss on his forehead.
“Sannie,” he whispers. “You’re so pretty.”
San just snorts, opening his eyes halfway to see Wooyoung peering down at him.
“You’re the one to talk.” San sits up, offering his hand to Wooyoung, who willingly takes it and stands as well. “You’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen.”
Wooyoung only smiles bashfully, hiding his face in San’s shoulder, San’s arms immediately going to wrap around him.
San plucks a flower off of one of the tree’s branches above them, inspecting the flower––its soft petals and bright, pastel colors in the middle of the flower.
He carefully places the flower behind Wooyoung’s ear, admiring how the beauty of the flower emphasizes Wooyoung’s own.
San leans in, kissing Wooyoung’s forehead, kissing his nose, before finally kissing his lips, wrapping his arms around Wooyoung’s waist in a protective hold.
Wooyoung’s lips are soft and incredibly sweet, like the honey of his skin. Kissing Wooyoung always feels like a dream. Soft like silk, sweet like nectar. Warm, safe. Like heaven.
Like home.
Kissing Wooyoung is like a drug to San. He can never get enough, not with Wooyoung’s inebriating taste, his inebriating scent enveloping San like the warmest blanket on the coldest day. He can’t help but want more and more, to drown in the ocean of Wooyoung lips.
When he breaks the kiss, he takes a moment to appreciate the view in front of him.
Wooyoung’s skin is glowing under the gentle light of the sunset that gives him an aureate halo, an ethereal aura. They’re so close that San can see the little mole on his lower lip. His eyes shine like stars, each full of little galaxies that San gets lost in. His cheeks are rosy and warm, an apple red complimenting the gold of his skin. His black bangs frame his face, a few stray strands falling into his eyes.
And then there’s the flower behind his ear, the petals stark against his dark hair.
This is it, San thinks. He’s in love.
San feels his cheeks growing warmer and warmer the more he gets lost in Wooyoung’s eyes, his heart beating frantically in his chest again. Once again, it’s really hard to believe that Wooyoung is his boyfriend. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky.
He releases a shaky breath, raising a hand to Wooyoung’s face to tuck his hair behind his ear, brushing his fingers gently against his boyfriend’s cheek.
“Why are you blushing, Sannie?” Wooyoung, his tone playful, in his signature Wooyoung-style.
San knows Wooyoung is just teasing, but he still answers seriously. He’s a little embarrassed that something as insignificant as unabashedly staring at––no, admiring Wooyoung can fluster him so easily.
“You-–You’re just so beautiful,” San replies, nearly breathless “Sometimes I really think I don’t deserve you.” Wooyoung is probably going to make fun of him, but it’s the truth, anyway.
But his words have quite the opposite effect. Wooyoung’s cheeks are stained crimson at the sudden confession, and San’s heart skips a beat. Wooyoung tries to hide the fact that he’s flustered by snorting before burying his face in San’s shoulder.
“I can’t stand you,” he whines, words muffled in San’s shirt. San can hear the pout in his voice.
San just smiles and winds his arms securely around Wooyoung’s thin frame, bringing a hand to Wooyoung’s hair and caressing it. Wooyoung wraps his arms around San as well, his breath tickling San’s neck as his nose brushes San’s collarbone. San shivers.
“You smell nice, Sannie,” Wooyoung says with a giggle.
“Really?”
Wooyoung simply nods in response, a pleased hum escaping his lips.
“How do I smell?” asks San, voice soft and low.
There’s a brief moment of silence, then Wooyoung speaks again.
“You smell...like home,” he answers quietly. “I can’t describe it but, it––it’s just you. It’s calming. Makes me feel secure. Reminds me that there’s no place I’d rather be than with you.”
San feels his heart stutter in his chest, a lump forming in his throat that makes it impossible for him to speak. He doesn’t mean to get emotional, but tears well up in his eyes as he chokes back a sob, trying not to get overwhelmed by Wooyoung’s words. He wants to reply, he really does, but he doesn’t know what to say.
Words really can’t describe how much he loves Wooyoung.
When Wooyoung lifts his head to look directly at San, he sees the tears threatening to run down San’s cheeks. A gentle smile makes his eyes sparkle as he looks at San with what San can only describe as an incredible and immeasurable amount of adoration.
“Oh, Sannie, don’t cry, please,” Wooyoung breathes, his voice soft and sweet, making San’s heart tighten in his chest again. He thumbs at the tears on San’s face, wiping them away. San leans into the touch, wrapping a hand around Wooyoung’s wrist, flattening his hand over Wooyoung’s to feel the warmth and comfort bleed into his skin.
Wooyoung rests his forehead against San’s, his breath fanning softly on San’s lips, their noses brushing lightly.
“I love you Wooyoung. I love you with all my heart and soul,” San whispers, not trusting his voice to come out steady.
There’s a short pause. Then Wooyoung kisses him again, gentle and loving and tender and beautiful.
“I love you, too. And I always will.”