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He knew what a big, unnecessary drama it all was. He knew. He had always known.
In those small, yet extremely hurtful seconds where he experienced the worst stages of jealousy, he wasn’t capable of seeing clearly. But afterwards, sometimes even mere seconds lingered by and suddenly he wanted to slap himself for being in so little control of his own emotions.
Only… he just couldn’t help it.
The dark feeling that overtook his entire being whenever he witnessed the person who was always by his side, leaving him to stand close to somebody else. To touch and whisper in somebody else’s ear.
Of course sometimes it happened in front of the camera for the amusement of the fans and to play in a stupid cat and mouse game, where they would purposefully provoke each other to cause a reaction, only to smile and reconcile almost immediately.
It didn’t matter that San’s heart was in pain in all of those times, scared beyond reason that one day Wooyoung would, in all seriousness, stop caring for him. That the easy hugs, caresses and stolen looks would cease to exist.
What a stupid, childish concept it was to think that Jung Wooyoung would forever stand by Choi San’s side. It could also be considered extremely exaggerated and uncalled for, since they were friends and people are allowed to have other friends. It was no one’s fault but San’s that he got unreasonably jealous while seeing Wooyoung directing his affection toward another person.
Sure they were friends. Sure they were close and loved each other immensely. San had already resigned himself to the fact that Wooyoung gave him something he had never found anywhere else, not just the skinship and intimate affection they shared in front of the cameras and when they were alone, but also the loving understanding that came with trusting and accepting each other unconditionally.
But even though San had never let himself - or couldn’t - be that close to anybody else, it didn’t mean Wooyoung wasn’t going to give the same treatment he gave to San, to other people.
It just hurt. A bit. A lot.
And it was only fair, really, that he kept it to himself.
Even when it was physically impossible to restrain his facial expressions, San would never say anything. He would never, ever, permit himself to open his mouth and spill all the nonsense he was experiencing inside his heart.
No matter how bad he was having it, it was his pain to bear and his only.
That’s why he was doing his best to keep his eyes anywhere else that not Wooyoung being overly touchy and friendly with Felix.
Although their Kingdom days were over, unlike the misconception of the general public that Kpop idols didn’t interact behind cameras, most of the groups that participated in the show maintained contact after the shooting was done with. Especially after the round that mixed the six groups.
So, it wasn’t a surprise what happened on a random weekday, while they were running around the practice room and sweating nonstop, Hongjoong’s phone started ringing loudly, allowing them to have a minor break to catch their breaths.
Naturally, they all scattered to lay around on the hardwood floor, receiving a disapproving yet affectionate stare from their leader, while he mumbled away to the person on the other side of the line.
Coincidently - or not - when San threw himself down on the blissfully cold ground, Wooyoung fell right beside him, no space left between them and despite of the scorching heat after all the physical exertion, San did not complain when their legs inevitably touched from hip to shin.
Since he was eternally prone to do so, San turned his head to the side, glancing at a very tired, but smiling Wooyoung, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. Noticing he was being observed, his smile grew even bigger.
The others weren’t saying anything either, every single one of them enjoying the peaceful minutes of freedom, even Mingi who had most recently returned, seemed to be thoroughly exhausted.
To the sound of uneven breathing and Hongjoong inevitably hanging up with whoever he was talking to, Wooyoung turned to the side and slowly blinked his eyes open, staring at San in the way he so often did, as if their eyes were connected by a million threads and they could speak infinite words with a single look.
For the briefest of seconds, neither of them broke the contact, eyes so locked and focused that the world could be literally ending and San wouldn’t even notice. Even the rhythm of their breaths seemed to be in sync, while San’s heart grew to an impossible size inside his chest and he wanted to laugh for no reason at all.
And then it was over.
“...they’ll bring us lunch,” Hongjoong was saying loud enough so everyone could hear, but apparently Wooyoung and San had missed a major part of the sentence.
“What?” Wooyoung turned around promptly at the sound of food, leaving a very bewildered San to stare at the ceiling.
Yet, somehow, he could feel a burning gaze coming from somewhere, almost like one of his friends was aware of everything going on inside his brain. That certain stare smelled awfully of a too-knowing Yeosang, but San would sooner throw himself in the Han River, butt naked, before he returned that gaze and all the judgement that came with it.
“Chris said that Changbin, Minho and Felix are coming too.”
“Wow!” Wooyoung exclaimed, clearly loving the news more than anyone else in the room, getting up and running to Hongjoong’s side to ask when they were arriving.
His excitement suddenly spread to an unbearable level, poking San’s guts and forcing him to sit up again, already feeling the loss of a body next to his or the speck of attention he’d just received.
For years now, he wondered why it always felt empty and cold after those moments, when they were so focused on each other the outside world felt like a distant memory, that no one could break their bubble or come between them. Then, all of sudden, when they disconnected somehow, San felt lost for a few seconds afterwards, like they were spinning at lightspeed, holding hands and keeping each other safe and then they were forced to let go. It was as if San kept spinning while the world kept going and he couldn’t find balance for a brief period of time.
Even before the others arrived, San knew - he could feel it deep in his bones - that Wooyoung wouldn’t give him much attention for the rest of the day.
And it turned out, he was right.
- - -
They were being overly loud in the practice room, scattered on the floor, empty containers and soda cans littering the space. All eight members of Ateez and the four ones of Stray Kids sat in a messy circle, having already eaten all of the food brought by the JYP team; some of them were laying down or leaning on each other.
San was somewhat squeezed between Yunho and Lee Know or Minho, as the other had told San he could call him, and because he was probably the luckiest person in the world, directly across from where he sat, in his unescapable line of vision, Wooyoung was sitting with an arm thrown over Felix’s thigh, laughing loudly at whatever they were babbling about. It looked like everyone was paying attention to the conversation between the leaders, occasionally providing a comment that would make everyone burst out into thunderous joy. They were sharing experiences and wisdom, apparently, but since it was all happening among friends, there wasn’t really a heavy atmosphere to it.
Except San couldn’t relax, since his treacherous eyes kept swerving to that same place, where Felix was easily placing his hand on Wooyoung’s neck and it seemed like they were having a whole other conversation of their own.
When Wooyoung laughed, San couldn’t help but notice it was his signature laugh. The one that turned his eyes into crescents and made his cheekbones lift up so prominent and beautiful.
No one seemed to be paying attention to it other than San and it wasn’t like he could prevent it, the claws of jealousy threatening to force out everything he had to eat just a few minutes prior.
Then, San felt Minho nudging him gently with his elbow. For someone who wasn’t doing anything wrong, San was awfully ready to receive a pitiful comment or a condescending smile.
But Minho only beamed at him. “I bet it’s nice for them to have another leader around.”
Unreasonably relieved that he could focus on anything other than his sensitive heart, San nodded, looking over at Christopher and Hongjoong. “They should hang out more often.”
“Yeah, you guys can come by too,” Minho said.
He was really nice, San thought. After Kingdom, despite their “friendship”, he hadn’t kept such a close contact with anyone outside of his own group, more for lack of time than anything else. But Lee Minho was someone he had sort of connected with when their teams joined forces for the third round and it made him feel a bit guilty all of a sudden for allowing his misery to take up so much time and space when he should be a better person to others around him.
They talked for a while like that, Yeosang who was sitting on Minho’s other side often joining them to provide one of his snarky comments and it was awfully easy , San’s heart calming down along with his mind, turning its full intentness to the present.
When Minho said something that made San laugh a bit too hard, he instinctively moved his head to look for Wooyoung and repeat what he heard. That was how they usually worked, anyway, most of the time their bodies shifted before their conscience could even register what was happening. That’s how intimate and familiar they were with each other.
However, Wooyoung was engrossed in something else at the moment, clearly not having heard San’s reaction or just not caring.
San’s expression fell so fast he felt the backlash embarrassment kick in and color his cheeks, positive someone must’ve seen the look stamped on his face. Yet it was inevitable.
Wooyoung and Felix were no longer sitting next to each other but Woo was downright positioned in the middle of Felix’s legs. As far as San was able to see, there wasn’t a part of them not touching and their faces said it all… They were comfortable and happy like that.
Suddenly, all of those times San saw Wooyoung touching, hugging or kissing Seonghwa, Yeosang, Hongjoong, Jongho, Yunho or Mingi, were nothing, literally nothing compared to what he was feeling at that exact time and place.
The mood shifted and the air around him felt a bit charged and like it always happened, Wooyoung didn’t return San’s stare, no matter how long he stayed staring, waiting for the other one to return the gesture. He never did. As it was, he either didn’t know what it was doing to San to see that or he didn’t care. Or maybe the whole thing shouldn’t be a big deal, San reminded himself for the billionth time.
Just because you feel like that, doesn’t mean it’s something bad.
Minho had already directed the conversation to Yeosang when San finally managed to return his attention back to them. Swallowing his foolish jealousy one more time, he forced those thoughts away and joined them once again, hoping no one noticed how strained his smile was. Or how bad his heart was breaking.
- - -
Weeks after that day, on a random afternoon, the pouring rain falling outside kept hitting incessantly on San’s bedroom window and he was having a bad day. One of the worst actually.
His legs hurt like hell from practicing nonstop the last few days, he could barely feel his feet and his arms were so heavy he couldn’t even gather the strength to pull himself up from bed.
Normally, after spending years in the trainee life and then living some more as an idol, San was able to ignore those things, seeing as life in the business didn’t stop just because he was experiencing some physical pain. Hell, some days he could even tone down his emotional pain to the point where nothing existed but the sheer will of moving towards his goal of always improving in his performance skills.
But that day… Hongjoong had said the previous night they needn’t worry with practice for a day or two, he had some important meetings with the staff and then, later on, would relay the information to them. So San was allowed to stay in bed resting his body, right? Except he thought he could just go practice a little, maybe even coerce a friend or two to join him.
He’d gotten up at the comfortable hour of 9am and went straight to the room Wooyoung, Yeosang and Jongho shared. San had already rehearsed the speech he would give to Wooyoung to convince him to go along with the impromptu reunion.
Only, when he knocked on the door, Yeosang was the one who peeked his head out, at first smiling at San in the way Yeosang always did, as if saying “I know I’m cute, but I’m not doing you any favors”. His face changed completely though, when San asked if Wooyoung was already up.
“Oh…” Yeosang averted both eyes to the floor for a mere second, scratching the back of his head and looking awfully like someone trying to come up with an excuse. “He… went out.”
“But Joong said we didn’t have practice today,” San pointed out dumbly, as if he himself didn’t want to go against the leader’s orders.
Yeosang then opened the door a bit more, giving San a clear view of a room that was really being occupied by just one person. Wooyoung wasn’t there.
“He knew we were having an off day and so he went to JYP.”
At first, San thought he heard the words wrong. Then he thought “why does Yeosang look like he’s telling someone their father died?”. And then he started to feel sorry for himself.
That feeling, San was very familiar with.
Schooling his features into an expression of indifference, he nodded once. “Ah, I didn’t know.” He had to physically suppress the need to cringe at how small and pitiful he sounded, when really he’d intended to come off as nonchalant.
Of course, Yeosang noticed. “San, he… It was last minute, really. We had just woken up and Felix texted him that…”
“It’s fine!” San added way too quickly, plastering his best chicky-cheesy-dimple smile and waving with both hands to try and shoo away his embarrassment at being treated as a thirteen-year old. “I just thought we could all go practice a little. But it’s okay. Joong was right, we should take the few hours we have to rest, anyway.”
San was already dragging his sorry ass back to his room when he heard Yeosang sighing, probably trying to come up with some consolation to shoot San’s way.
Before he could, though, San lifted two fingers in a peace sign and without turning back, said, “See you at lunch.”
He risked going to the kitchen for a glass of water, to find Yunho and Seonghwa making fluffy pancakes. They were snickering at the obvious mess spread on the counter, inviting him to join and saying Jongho refused to help them and Mingi was taking a shower. San refused in the nicest way possible, his mood so low on the floor he could barely meet their eyes.
As it tended to happen, his friends noticed at once when something was wrong, even though San was directing his entire willpower to the art of smiling and faking it. He thought of himself as being a great actor, most times. As it was, when you have such thoughtful and caring friends, they were capable of seeing right through you. Every single damn time.
“Hey, you’re okay?” Seonghwa asked quietly while San sipped the glass water he filled.
This time, though, he chose another tactic. “Not really. I guess I went too hard with practice yesterday and now my whole body hates me.”
Oddly enough, that seemed to change their suspicious expressions into ones of understanding. “You should sleep through the day, then. Before Joong gets back and we have to gather and listen to a bunch of never ending feedback,” Yunho supplied. “I’ll save you some pancakes.”
Right then and there, San wanted to cry.
He took Yunho’s advice quite literally, going back to bed, closing the blinds and burying himself so deep under his blankets that it would take him a few minutes to escape the deliciously warm cocoon.
But he didn’t sleep.
His mind was reeling, the noise of the rain serving as background music to San’s inner struggle - he felt a deep wave of shame wash over as he thought of it like that, because it really wasn’t that serious - with which he was used to by now, after years of going through the same thoughts, over and over again. Sometimes he could psyque himself into not going there, but some days it was impossible. Some days it was too much.
“Your best friend is San.” “No.”
“I don’t love him that much.”
“I don’t like this kind of style… I don’t like this kind of clinginess.”
Why did he have to remember those words? Why is it that, every time San feels the slightest bit sad, his mind keeps going back to those same sentences? Those same seemingly harsh refusals? Those meaningless moments that weren’t supposed to be revived over and over again?
He knows - he deeply and sincerely understands - that he can’t blame other people for the way he’ll react to their words, to their personality. San was always insecure about the smallest things and he never once hid behind them, making sure that everyone knew he had his own issues but that he’d learned to deal and live with it, trying to improve as best as he could.
And there was this one person who, from the first moment, San realised he could trust. Someone who made him feel better and like he could be anything he wanted. While working on everything else and slowly starting to accept himself, San found that single one human being - and other six ones - that were there for him, through thick and thin. People who understood first hand some of the difficulties he was experiencing and those aspects where they didn’t, San knew he could talk to them nevertheless.
But one of them was different.
One of them was his best friend in the entire world. He was that person that touched San without a second thought, comfortable in their intimacy that no words were necessary. He was that person San could hug and kiss anytime and it was never strange. They talked and then they didn’t. They got jealous of each other as all friends did, but the next minute they were already tangled together, laughing in secrecy and sharing the same air, because that’s what best friends did.
Wooyoung was his best friend. But by now, San should’ve come to terms with the fact he wasn’t Wooyoung’s best friend, nor was he his only friend.
The same touches Wooyoung gave him, he would turn around and give to someone else. San often saw those smiles that lit up Wooyoung’s face being directed at literally every member of their group and some of the other friends he had across the industry. He hugged them the same way he hugged San. He looked in their eyes with the same intense sincerity San thought belonged only to him.
He had a life that didn’t include San and it was okay. It was.
Except that, sometimes, it wasn’t.
Not when San kept thinking about the fact that he wasn’t the only one. When his irrational mind played those dark little tricks and he couldn’t help closing off. He couldn’t help the paranoia. The “what ifs”. The “what if he only treats me like that because I’m the closest one available at that moment?”, “what if I’m just like every other friend?”, “what if he doesn’t like that I’m clingy sometimes, but hides it because we’re in front of the cameras?”, “what if he only behaves like that in front of the cameras, for the sake of entertainment?”
He sighed loudly into the empty room, pulling the covers closer to his body, not even acknowledging the pain in his limbs anymore. San already knew the script for moments like these, so he closed his eyes to the noise of the rain and let the tears fall.
It was just a bad day. He had already had plenty of those.
And it wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own.
Deep down he understood that the jealousy and the loneliness didn’t come from Wooyoung or his actions, it came from within San and his own insecurities. It came from feeling like he wasn’t enough and loving his best friend so much that every small joke made him incredibly scared. It ached and it cut so deep he wanted to turn his back and run.
Because he always stayed, he always ended up hurt.
At that moment, San forced himself to think that a nap would make everything better. He pushed thoughts of New York and rejections at fansigns and VLIVE to the deepest wells of his mind and let it all go. Sleep didn’t take long to overtake him again.
- - -
The next time San opened his eyes was to see Yunho coming into the room, clearly measuring his steps so as to not wake up his roommate.
For some reason, seeing Yunho tiptoe into his own bedroom made San smile while his eyes weren’t fully open yet. “I’m awake,” he mumbled loud enough for Yunho to hear.
Inside, with the curtains closed, the light streaming in was minimal, but San could see Yunho smiling back at him.
“Ugh, sorry. I came to see if you were still asleep.”
“What time is it?” San asked, already turning around to his bedside table. Yunho sat down on his own bed on the other side of the room.
“It’s just after three,” Yunho said, although San grabbed his phone and saw just that. Along with nine text notifications from Wooyoung. He put the phone back down on the table without opening them.
“Oh… I missed lunch.”
Yunho laughed softly. “Don’t worry. Seonghwa not only saved you pancakes from breakfast, but also a big plate from lunch. You’re all set.”
“Hum…” San turned to the side so he could face his friend, but didn’t get up just yet. He also made a quick assessment of his stomach and yep, he was very much hungry. “Okay, I guess I slept enough.”
“You think? Hongjoong is already back.”
“Oh, shit.”
“He said we should gather before dinner to talk the important things through…”
“...whatever that means,” San added.
“Right? Anyway, I’m sure he wrote some notes and topics.”
They both spared a few minutes to laugh fondly at their very responsible leader.
“I should get up and take a shower then. Who’s cooking tonight?”
Yunho made a face. “Mingi and Yeosang.”
“They’ll burn down the kitchen,” San replied matter of factly.
“We should stop trying to solve everything with rock, paper, scissors.”
“Then we’d have nothing else better to do for fun.”
This time, when they laughed because of how weird their group dynamic actually was, San felt Yunho’s eyes linger a bit too long on his face, as if he was looking for something or making sure that nothing was wrong. San didn’t ask what it was, though. His M.O. was to pretend, deny and avoid until his friends would take the hint and move to the next subject.
Sometimes it worked.
Sometimes it didn’t.
“It’s not only post-practice pain, is it?” Yunho asked quietly, his fragile tone making San avert his eyes to the closed curtains, swallowing down his discomfort instead of talking.
No answer was needed anyway and he wasn’t in the mood to explain his inner turmoil or the fact he felt like the most ridiculous drama king of all time, because apparently feeling jealous of your best friend was something that could really kill one’s whole mood for a day or more.
It took San a few minutes of awkward silence before he was able to turn and face Yunho again, but before he could utter a single lie, his friend said, “Whatever it is, don’t talk about it if you don’t want to. I just hope you feel better later so we can play some games like you promised me two weeks ago.”
An honest smile slowly crept itself into San’s sleepy face. He nodded once.
“Sorry I’ve been a terrible friend.”
He remembered telling Yunho they needed to play together more often, like they did back in the days. But with all the practice and meetings and new songs they were working on, it was nearly impossible for him to be in the right mindset to spend one night awake playing video games.
Yunho shook his head, dismissing San’s apology. “I know we’re all tired. Just…” he averted his gaze momentarily to the table where their computer was, “if you do want to talk…”
Hearing the genuine worry in his friend’s tone, San didn’t have the heart to lie or even deny any assumptions, merely nodding again and smiling faintly at Yunho.
“I’ll take a quick shower then and come down after.”
“Okay,” but instead of getting up and going his way immediately, Yunho lay down on his own bed. “I’ll wait for you.”
Despite whatever worry he might still nurture, San couldn’t help but feel incredibly loved whenever one of his friends performed such small actions. He went to the bathroom smiling absentmindedly, feeling as though his terrible day was finally improving.
- - -
Later, when San and Yunho joined the others, San darted to the kitchen to fetch the plate Seonghwa made for him, not yet daring to look in the direction of the living room. While he waited for the food to be microwaved, Joong came to grab a coke for himself and chided San playfully because he didn’t have lunch with the others.
Grabbing the plate and preparing his weakass heart, San walked to the living area to complete the team and allow their leader to continue with his task.
Even after they moved dorms and now there was a considerable space on the soft surface of the sofa that could fit them all, they’d continue with the old routine of: some sitting on the floor, while others shared the couch.
When San arrived, the fluffy rug was one of the only places available. That, and a small space on the couch between Mingi and Wooyoung.
Usually, without anyone batting an eye, San would squeeze himself there and quite literally become one with Wooyoung. They always did that, especially on movie nights. Not really sitting, but more like merging into each other on the corner of the couch, limbs tangled and comfortable just like that.
That day, however, San couldn’t bring himself to do that, instead taking advantage in the fact his friends were having a loud discussion about dinner and not really paying much attention to him, he walked silently to where Yunho was sharing the smallest part of the “L” shaped couch with Jongho and sat on the floor, his back leaning on Yunho’s legs.
San’s skin started to prickle the second he lowered his body into that position and it wasn’t because of Yunho immediately placing both hands on his shoulders. He could feel a pair of eyes directed at him and the piercing gaze was practically burning holes where they landed. He couldn’t bring himself to look in that direction though, knowing what he would find. Despite it previously being San himself in that situation, a few weeks back when half of Stray Kids went to visit them, he knew back then that if their eyes met it would be too hard not to physically respond. So he stayed put, blatantly gazing at Seonghwa’s face and concentrating on whatever he and Hongjoong were doing. Which, of course, was being disgustingly soft with each other.
He started to silently eat, chewing and also struggling to keep his wet hair away from his face. And yet, he felt the fingers from both hands literally hurting with the urge to just reach...
Thankfully, when he was about to chance a quick glance in that direction, Hongjoong asked for them to pay attention to him and then proceeded to talk about the diversity of topics that had been covered in the meeting with the management. More often than not the “longer” meetings required only the leader to attend, so he could relay all the information for the rest of the group later. It didn’t mean the other members weren’t as important, but that they had a leader for a reason and he should take the front on some matters.
Sometimes San wondered if it Hongjoong wasn’t carrying a heavier weight than he could bear, staying in his studio late into the night, burdening himself with worries concerning their comebacks and tours and albuns and everything else. They all worried, but being the leader conveyed so much that one person seemed like a pathetic number in the face of all those responsibilities. But then San would take one look at Hongjoong and remember everything they went through since way before their debut, the numerous efforts he made for them and how successful Ateez had become, every single one of those things attesting to the fact that Kim Hongjoong was more than enough for the job.
And whatever he couldn’t carry alone, they were all there to help him. Especially Seonghwa, who didn’t even need a single look from Hongjoong to know when their leader was in dire need of support. They were incredibly lucky to have each other.
At that thought, it was impossible for San not to respond, his mind and body in such synchrony that not even a set of iron chains would be able to stop his head from turning just a tad fraction to the side.
Their eyes locked immediately.
Wooyoung had been staring at him since the very moment San sat down and San didn’t need eyes everywhere to know that. Even if he wasn’t capable of feeling that burning gaze, the look of utter confusion on Wooyoung’s face when they made eye contact would’ve been enough to know everything he was thinking.
They hadn’t talked at all during the entire day. When San went looking for Wooyoung in the morning, thinking about spending the day together, Wooyoung had already left. So San slept through the hours, but apparently Wooyoung had texted him in the meantime and now he wanted to know why San hadn’t responded or why he wasn’t sitting where he usually sat.
Or maybe he was just looking back at San and there was nothing to it.
Fighting his own instinct to go there, San merely smiled at him, one of those quick-show-of-dimples-eyes-closed smiles and turned back around, ignoring how much his heart hurt from the small distance and the fact that things weren’t “normal” between them.
Hongjoong went on and on about the meeting, pointing out the sketch of their future schedule and how they would need to be in the practice room basically 24/7 from now on.
That was nothing new for them, of course, so the whole thing didn’t take more than forty minutes or so. And that was only because Hongjoong kept being interrupted by the chaotic members who always wanted to comment on something.
Not San though. He stayed quiet throughout the whole thing, smiling when it was needed and laughing from time to time.
When it was time for Yeosang and Mingi to start making dinner, he thought it would be nearly impossible to escape his fate and so didn’t even try to get up from where he was seated.
The truth was, if he could be completely honest with only himself, he missed his friend terribly when he wasn’t around. Now that he was and San could finally look at him from such a short distance, his mind forgot about the other things for a while.
He felt Yunho twisting out of his seat and leaving to follow the others to the kitchen. Hongjoong and Seonghwa stayed behind, but they were no use for a distraction, since both of them were too focused on whatever was on Seonghwa’s phone. San thought about pointing out that it’d be easier if Hongjoong hopped on Seonghwa’s lap seeing how their legs had already become one. He decided against it, mainly because Wooyoung was moving toward him and sitting down next to San on the rug, not leaving more than a few centimeters between them.
It felt like one of the biggest inner fights San ever had to endure, trying with all his must not to let his hand travel and plant itself on Wooyoung’s knee. In the end he couldn’t do much other than let Wooyoung lean on his body, hand touching San’s thigh with such ease that his previous worries seemed to melt away. Almost.
“What’s gotten into you?” Wooyoung questioned, his mouth morphing into a slow grin.
San looked at him sideways, face blank. “What?”
Of course, Wooyoung just stared at him from up close, narrowing his eyes into an expression of suspicion.
Was he always this pathetically transparent?
“Did something bad happen today while I was gone? Yunho said you slept through the day,” his voice was gentle but prodding at the same time. He appeared to be genuinely worried.
So, San forced a smile of his own, this time looking at Seonghwa and Hongjoong - who seemed just a bit too focused on what they were doing - to avoid being caught in the act of lying. He thought it would most likely be a fruitless effort, Wooyoung knew him too well, all of his gestures and non-gestures. The silences and the loud complaints. He’d be on San’s lie in a millisecond, but he couldn’t admit the reasons why he stayed in bed until the afternoon or why Woo’s text went unanswered.
“I was actually super tired from practice yesterday.”
“Yeah?” Wooyoung insisted, hand squeezing San’s thigh softly.
San nodded. Wooyoung hummed in response.
He wanted to look at him, but didn’t.
“Come sit on the couch with me then, this carpet thing is so uncomfortable,” the whine Wooyoung emitted was his trademark please-do-what-I-want kind of plea that was sure to work on San without a doubt.
Unable to do anything other than go with him, San watched as Wooyoung got up and offered a hand for San to take, dragging both of them to that fated spot on the corner of the couch, where they inevitably fell into each other, Wooyoung throwing his legs on top of San’s thighs.
San could feel Seonghwa’s eyes on him, but soon enough a quiet - not so quiet - reprimand came from Hongjoong, telling San that they were back at paying attention to something else other than the two now curled up in their familiar place.
Right then, San didn’t feel as miserable as he had before, listening to Wooyoung mumble about his day at a different dormitory or the shenanigans he got up to with his other friends. He felt sort of comfortable with Wooyoung’s attention solely on him, asking San how his day had been, if he really slept through all of it and why he didn’t answer any of his texts.
“I thought you died or something, you always answer my texts so quick, though,” Wooyoung said after a while of San merely staring at him while he talked, their only background noise being the sound of members in the kitchen cooking dinner.
And just like that, San was brought back to reality. Looking at Wooyoung, so at ease next to him, coming and going as he pleased and reminding San of how clingy and needy he actually was. That San would answer his texts right away or forget about a mean comment in a second, if only Wooyoung would look his way…
Thing is, San had always been like that. Not just with Wooyoung, but he always found it difficult to be resentful or purposefully engage in a confrontation with someone, when he could live and let go. He simply couldn’t stay mad for long.
And with Wooyoung it had always been impossible to be mad for more than a few minutes. Of course they fought, of course some days they just couldn’t stand to be close to each other for every single minute.
But then San was reminded of those things, the ugly parts of his brain pointing out that maybe, yes, he was too clingy and too affectionate. That maybe he needed to give others, and himself, a space to breathe. And that’s why it hurt so bad when Wooyoung treated others the same way he treated San, or when he rejected San’s affection, either in private or in front of other people. Because it made him realise that his actions were at fault. That he provoked the pain and the rejection he received, for being so open and fond with every single person.
But mostly with Wooyoung.
Wooyoung who was so extroverted and nice to everybody. Who liked to laugh and touch and caress his friends, because just as San was clingy, Wooyoung was unreserved and at ease with everyone he met.
Realisation dawned on him and San found himself facing the only possible solution he could find at that moment, something that could help both his aching heart and the most precious friendship he’d ever had.
Still looking at Wooyoung while he explained about how his new favorite ice cream flavor was the best ever, San made a promise. A promise to do everything in his power to protect the things he cherished and the people he loved. He stared and stared while Wooyoung talked. Savouring a moment he wouldn’t allow himself to have for a long time.
- - -
San was ignoring him.
Wooyoung wasn’t stupid and apparently, neither were his friends. The tension that lingered in the air, so heavy and palpable, made him feel like there was no oxygen inside the practice room, even though the day had barely started and the members were just lounging around waiting for Hongjoong to come back from his studio.
It had been three weeks since the day Wooyoung had sort of confronted San about not answering his texts when he went to hang out with Felix and Changbin. His attitude that day had been indisputably out of character, because he didn’t actually need San to say the words, one look at him told everything Wooyoung needed to know.
Sometimes it still amazed him how deeply well both of them knew each other. It had happened so fast, their friendship blossoming with barely any time between meeting as trainees and going about that hard life of training and preparing for their debut.
Wooyoung had never really been much thoughtful about making friends, seeing as it was easy for him to get along with everyone. He’d never felt that timid anticipation of first conversations and learning about what the other person liked, ever since he met Yeosang, his oldest and best friend at that, it had always been simple. Smooth.
But with San that easiness came in such a different, overwhelming way, that for what felt like the very first time in his life, Wooyoung started to question the meaning of the word “soulmate”. From the inicial five minutes upon meeting each other, they immediately became close, sharing not only physical but emotional intimacy as well.
In the past, Wooyoung used to think that it was just too good to be true, how well they got along, talking about anything and everything. How their taste was so similar in some aspects and so contrasting in others, but it fit perfectly nonetheless. He learned everything about San, especially how sometimes he didn’t take Wooyoung’s jokes as light as they were meant to be. He learned about his past and what he wanted for his future. Wooyoung told him things and touched him in ways he never had with Yeosang before, because different people tend to have different personalities and that was just the way Wooyoung and San’s friendship was. They fit in a manner Wooyoung had never fit with any of his other friends.
He chalked it up to it being 97% because of San’s sweet, tender, kind and sunshine-like way of being, not only towards people but life in general. Choi San was one of those humans who always (always) brightened the room when he entered, behaving with his devastatingly charming approach, smiling, cracking the cheesiest jokes and hugging anyone who would give him two seconds of attention. And Wooyoung would also hug anyone who would give him two seconds of attention, and yet.... Their personalities were so enormously divergent.
With the five minutes it took for them to become incredibly close, Wooyoung had also noticed how codependent San could be sometimes, clinging to Wooyoung whenever they were in the same space. It was his way of being, after all, touchy-feely, like Seonghwa had pointed out once. Clockwork skinship.
And Wooyoung would be damned if he said he didn’t love it. When San touched his neck in the way only he seemed to be comfortable with or how he would instantly look for Wooyoung whenever he entered a room.
That’s just how they were. Communicating without words, touching all the time, sitting together and spending almost all of their free time in each other’s company. They had other friends, sure, and sometimes Wooyoung tried to put some distance between them, not because he didn’t want to be around San, but because he was around San all the time.
Every once in a while he was in a bad mood. Every once in a while he wanted space. Every once in a while he just wanted to know how far he could push, until it was too painful for both of them.
But those actions Wooyoung would partake in, constantly made him regret it right away, because he knew - he’d known it so deep down his bones that every fiber of his being ached - that they hurt San. Every time. No matter the friendly joke, horseplay or fake rejection Wooyoung threw his way, the reaction would be perpetually the same. San’s face shattered, his eyes cast downwards, wearing his heartbreak stamped on his face in the most raw, honestly open expression. It was as if he believed wholeheartedly when Wooyoung put up a hard façade to say he didn’t love San all that much. Or that they weren’t best friends. When those moments happened, Wooyoung would look to the side to gauge San’s reaction and his own heart would break into pieces, seeing how the other appeared to be genuinely hurt.
Those small but meaningful interactions never ceased to make Wooyoung feel like a terrible person for provoking that much hurt on San, even if it never lasted long, even if it was never too serious. For in the next second, if Wooyoung reached a hand out to him, or hugged San from behind, words were needless. They would immediately be okay again. San would smile. Wooyoung would smile. Things were fixed.
But were they?
He looked at San sitting across the room perched on the arm of the couch and practically draped on top of Yunho. They were laughing quietly at something Wooyoung couldn’t make out, San gesticulating widely and giggling in his trademark way, eyes crinkling closed and dimples on display. Mingi joined them, standing in front of Yunho he lifted his hand to place it on top of San’s head, caressing the dark strands and smiling fondly when San said something only they could hear. And then Yunho leaned forward, hugging Mingi’s legs and covering what little sight Wooyoung had of San.
That didn’t stop his heart from burning with unwarranted jealousy though, because as much as he was focused on the fact that San was blatantly ignoring him for God knows why, Wooyoung wasn’t blind to his own hurt in front of what he was witnessing. He wasn’t as obvious as San, though - at least he didn’t think he was - so his face didn’t showcase how he was really feeling. Miserable and rejected. And like he wanted to go over there and drag Mingi and Yunho away from San. How he wanted to curl both arms around him and ask what was wrong and if they could work it out.
His thoughts were soon interrupted when Yeosang approached the place where Wooyoung had been leaning against the wall, trying - and failing - to avert his eyes from the scene unfurling on the other side of the room.
“You’re pathetic, you know that, right?” Yeosang blurted in the most casual tone Wooyoung had ever heard from someone insulting him. Then again, that was Yeosang.
Wooyoung gasped in half-indignance, seeing as he was all too familiar with Yeosang’s blatant honesty and sassiness. “Excuse me?”
Yeosang just stared back at him, judging eyes not even flinching. “When I say ‘you’ I mean both of your dramatic asses that don’t know how to communicate.”
Despite having an all too clear idea of what his friend was talking about, Wooyoung chose to be his petulant self and merely crossed his arms in front of his chest, lifting his head in an exaggerated gesture of denial. None of which would work on Yeosang, of all people.
“I seriously don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied.
“Sure. You and San just love to pretend like you’re starring in a drama together and, honestly, the first few days it is pretty amusing to witness. Me and Jongho love to place bets on who’s gonna cave in first, but then it stops being fun when it becomes sad and annoying.”
“...”
Wooyoung thought he probably had it coming from the second he became friends with Yeosang, the feisty little bitch who loved to expose Wooyoung’s worst traits whenever he got the chance. He was always pointing out the obvious, sure, but that didn’t mean Wooyoung should accept his words and confess to it. So what if Yeosang could read him like an open book? That’s what best friends did and in this scenario, Wooyoung’s job was to fake being clueless.
“Just go there and get it over with.”
“There’s nothing to ‘get over it’. What are you even on about?” Wooyoung pressed, trying to reverse the situation.
Evidently, it did not work in the slightest.
Now he just looked like he was feeling sorry for Wooyoung and his pathetic attempts at sounding nonchalant.
“Wooyoung,” he started firmly, all seriousness. “We’ve seen this film before, okay? It’s always the main drama when it comes to the two of you and I know San is also your best friend, so you don’t need me to say this, but when something feels wrong is because usually there is something wrong. All of us can see and feel when you guys aren’t on good terms, it literally rubs off on every unfortunate human being who’s in the same vicinity.”
Wooyoung swallowed dry, unable to stop himself from glancing in San's direction at that, feeling the distance between them growing more and more.
“I don’t know what I did,” Wooyoung confessed suddenly, his mouth running away with it in the face of his best friend wanting to help. He hated how small his voice sounded, but Yeosang just kept going without a second thought.
“You do, though. I think it’s the ridiculous amount of things you keep bottled up,” Wooyoung was about to interrupt him and say he did no such thing, when Yeosang lifted an impatient hand to stop him. “that both of you keep bottled up and then choose not to talk about it, because you’re morons and then it turns into this.”
“This being?” Wooyoung prodded, relishing in his masochistic self.
Across the room, San got up from the couch to stand next to Mingi, who threw an arm over San’s shoulder to pull him close.
Wooyoung missed San’s touch terribly.
“Two best friends who feel miserable when they’re apart,” Yeosang stated in a surprisingly soft voice.
No need to clarify the meaning behind Yeosang’s words. They were a long time coming, Wooyoung reasoned. Ultimately, he was absolutely right. From the very first day when San said he couldn’t hang out with Wooyoung for something that sounded awfully fake, Wooyoung knew deep down things were weird between them.
Being completely honest, he thought San was just jealous of his friendship with Changbin and Felix, even if San himself had become close with the others too. And Wooyoung also thought back then, that they could sort it out in no time, no need to talk about it and make things unnecessarily dramatic.
Nevertheless, when it came to San and Wooyoung, trying to actively avoid the drama, ended up throwing them straight into it.
He wouldn’t downright lie and say he wasn’t hurting, because everyone in the room could probably feel the waves of jealousy radiating from him, increasing with each laugh San emitted on the far side of the room that wasn’t directed at Wooyoung.
He turned to Yeosang. “Does it look that bad?”
Yeosang made a disgusted face. “It looked cute up until two weeks ago when we had the movie night and he sat on the other side of the couch squished between Mingi and Yunho. You seriously looked like you were gonna get up and murder someone.”
Wooyoung huffed in annoyance. San was usually the one with the obvious reactions, thoroughly incapable of hiding his feelings. Wooyoung had an amazing poker face. Well… It seemed he didn’t, after all.
“No need to remind me I’m a terrible friend,” Wooyoung kind of - sort of, barely even - whined.
Yeosang snickered. “You’re an amazing friend, Wooyoung. Always has been and always will be. You’re so amazing I don’t even mind sharing you with San, do I?”
“Well…”
“I don’t mind it anymore.”
They exchanged a knowing look and grinned at each other. It was probably the first time Wooyoung felt actually good in days. He loved Yeosang so fucking much that sometimes he wanted to hug him senseless. But he knew Yeosang would most definitely punch him if he tried.
“I just…” Wooyoung turned back to face the scene that didn’t seem to change much, his longing stare going unnoticed from the others, thankfully.
“Miss him?” Yeosang supplied.
Wooyoung understood then why Yeosang had called him pathetic to begin with. And also why their fans seemed to think Wooyoung and San were actually a couple. They did look like two idiots in love, who were too caught up in their own drama to work things out.
His opportunity to reply vanished when Joong walked into the room, already speaking loudly and telling them to stop fooling around so they could start practice.
He also didn’t have a chance to take on Yeosang’s advice, because although they stayed in the same room throughout the day, laughing at the things their friends said and sharing the small space their choreography provided, San hadn’t looked at him once. Not even once.
- - -
That night, Yunho tells everyone they’re having a movie night and since there’s a rotation system, the group gatters in the living room to watch whatever Jongho chose for them.
Moving to the new dorm allowed them to purchase a huge, light grey couch that can fit the eight members somewhat comfortably. It’s still chaos when one needs to stretch their legs a certain way and there’s no room to do so, but personal space was never a big deal for them anyway.
Wooyoung was looking through his phone, trying stupidly hard not to think about his crappy day and the even crappier last couple of weeks he had. The twitter timeline was a blur in front of his eyes and it was only because he didn’t know where else to put them, that Wooyoung kept pretending he was really concentrating.
The truth though, was that his mind was reeling, thinking back to a few hours ago when they arrived back at the dorm and separated to take showers and start cooking dinner. To when he lingered a bit too long at the entrance hall, fidgeting with his bag - Wooyoung never fidgets - watching helplessly as San emitted a raucous laugh, arm thrown over Seonghwa’s shoulders while they walked into the house in the direction of the bedrooms.
Wooyoung was painfully aware that San was downright warding him off, not leaving any open window for them to be alone or have two minutes even to talk. Sure, they were in close quarters at meal times and exchanged polite greetings every day. They also interacted lamely during VLIVEs and interviews, but it all just made Wooyoung’s heart ache even more.
That wasn’t his San… It was a shell of the boy he’d met so long ago when they were trainees, someone who wasn’t as comfortable being around Wooyoung and didn’t seek him as much.
Sitting down on the couch, even after having showered and eaten dinner, Wooyoung felt extremely put off and uneasy. He just couldn’t relax. He wanted to scream and physically reach out to San, ask - demand - why things were so weird and what he could do to fix them. But mostly, why he felt, deep inside his chest, that he couldn’t just go and hug San to work out everything like he’d done before.
“No way in HELL am I watching this!”
San’s loud protest brought Wooyoung back to the present, his eyes shooting upwards from his phone screen to where San was standing near the TV, with Jongho holding the remote out of his reach and looking too amused at San’s desperation.
“It is his time to pick what we watch, though,” Yeosang pointed out, an equally amused - kind of mean - grin plastered on his face.
Next to Yunho on the other end of the couch, Mingi was pouting and shaking his head violently. “I agree with San! I don’t want to watch a stupid documentary about a serial killer!”
Wooyoung did nothing to fight the fond smile spreading across his face, knowing how their group was filled with cowards that couldn’t handle a scary story, let alone a horror movie or serial killer documentary. He also was in that list, to be honest, but out of all of them Mingi and San were probably the ones who got it worse.
How did Wooyoung know this? Because every time they ventured in watching something slightly scary, San would always crawl to Wooyoung’s side, claiming he needed protection and that Wooyoung should hold him tight until the whole thing ended. Neither one of his friends spared them a single glance when that happened, already too familiar with their dynamic. If they weren’t, it wasn’t like Wooyoung wasn’t scared too. He hugged San with the same firmness, hiding his face on his neck or vice-versa and welcoming the physical closeness and comfort that always came with San’s proximity.
That day, however, as San and Mingi lost their struggle and Jongho was celebrating with genuine glee, flopping down next to Yeosang on the couch, Wooyoung felt the heavy hand of hopelessness clutch on his heart.
Remembering the strangeness lingering between them, he doubted San would choose Wooyoung to hug him through his terror.
As Seonghwa and Hongjoong joined them in the living room, turning the lights off and telling Jongho he could press play, San and Wooyoung’s eyes met for a brief second, the older averting contact in a flash, not even slowing down on his way to squeeze on the inexistent space in the middle of Jongho and Seonghwa.
Wooyoung couldn’t help it, he simply couldn’t, when his expression morphed into one of complete dissatisfaction, bitterness obviously apparent even though he was directly facing the TV, an eerie voice narrating a creepy story about a man who liked to cut women in pieces or whatever. Normally, he would already be cringing and making sly comments like “why would someone want to watch this?” or “who would make a documentary about someone like that?”
Unlike those times, in this situation Wooyoung was aware of the waves of displeasure and anger radiating from him. He was sitting on one corner of the couch and right to his side, he felt Hongjoong moving his head slightly, looking over at Wooyoung’s tense body and sullen demeanor.
He wasn’t about to ditch movie night, that was something they always did together and missing it was only possible if you were on your deathbed or halfway there. Wooyoung didn’t have a good enough excuse, even if his friends knew something was wrong with him and San.
But he also was inherently unfit to hide his emotions when they overtook him like this. There were too many meaningful things escaping through his fingers, overwhelming his senses and reason.
He just desperately wanted San back.
Unreasonably furious about his inability to do anything right at that moment, Wooyoung spent the rest of the documentary the same way as he was staring at his phone before, eyes unfocused and mind floating places.
Every now and then he heard some of the guys gasping or complaining about a disgusting scene in particular, but he couldn’t pay any attention to that. He heard San’s moan of utter misery once and chanced a quick glance to the side, only to find him basically sat on top of Seonghwa’s legs, face hidden behind both hands and chest visibly rising and falling with harsh breaths. He was scared. And Wooyoung died a little because they weren’t together and it was his hyung’s hand squeezing San’s thigh in an attempt to comfort him.
As he was turning back to the big screen, Wooyoung catched Joong’s eyes for a brief second and what he saw in them just made him feel worse. Hongjoong looked at Wooyoung as if Wooyoung was a kicked puppy, left to sleep under the pouring rain with no hopes of saving his own life. But at the same time, he also appeared to be apologizing to Wooyoun for some reason, like maybe he felt as powerless as Wooyoung did that he couldn’t work out what was wrong.
When the documentary ended and everyone started to groan, stretch their lazy limbs and get up to go to bed, a loud thunder sounded in the distance, bringing the warning that they would most definitely sleep to the sound of rain outside their bedrooms’ windows.
“How come you didn’t screech at the bare demonstration of gore like you always do?” Mingi’s voice questioned and it took Wooyoung a whole minute to notice he was talking about him.
“What?” he asked anyway.
“He’s right, you, San and Mingi are always the loudest ones,” Seonghwa grins fondly down at San, who’s still perched on his lap.
“Oi!” Mingi protested half heartedly. Next to him, Yunho scrunched up his nose in an endearing way, looking at the back of Mingi’s head almost as if he wanted to reach out and pet his hair. He ended up doing just that, Mingi not even blinking an eye, so unquestionably used to the contact he visibly leaned into it.
Wooyoung got up, his heart and stomach clenching painfully. And because he was a masochist, looked at San’s form one more time, taking in the fact he wouldn’t meet Wooyoung’s eyes like he had earlier.
“Going to bed,” Wooyoung murmured to no one in particular, feeling their worried eyes at his back as he retreated to the room he shared with Yeosang and Jongho.
Inexplicably so, that night he passed out almost right after his head hit the pillow, quelching his worries of staying up through the hours and having to deal with his roommates walking in and staring at him with pity layering their eyes. Well, Jongho would look at him with pity, Yeosang would just roll his eyes, throw a pillow at Wooyoung and tell him to sulk in silence.
He thought it was probably him sitting on his bed in the dark, waking Wooyoung up from his fragile sleep state, not yet groggy from it, but definitely not being able to remember if he was dreaming or not.
Unbothered to open his eyelids and tell his friend to go away, Wooyoung merely pulled the covers tighter around himself, humming lazily so Yeosang would understand he just wished to fall back asleep in peace.
But it was not Yeosang’s voice that called his name softly into the quiet bedroom. It was most definitely not Yeosang’s hand touching his shoulder and shaking it slowly to rouse him from dreamland.
Well, he crawled out of there so fast he got whiplash.
Wooyoung blinked open both eyes to stare at Choi San illuminated by the yellow glow of his bedside lamp. He hadn’t even noticed it was on.
They stood stock still, staring at each other for what felt like hours. It made Wooyoung feel as if he hadn’t been asleep at all just a minute ago, only now daring to square his brain into analyzing their surroundings. But Wooyoung didn’t have to turn to the side to know they were alone or that it was late into the night.
San was wearing his everyday pajamas™, hair damp and face ridiculously soft, eyes drooping but not weavering.
Wooyoung wanted to say something and then he didn’t. Carefully, afraid the barest of movements would tell him this was all a dream and San wasn’t actually there, Wooyoung sat up until his back was curved and his hands were folded between his crossed legs. He leaned forward just a bit, testing the waters, reveling on how he could finally meet San’s eyes so up close after so many days.
His bed was quite big, easily accommodating two people - one of them being the very much spacious Wooyoung himself - and yet San had chosen to sit right where his body would inevitably touch Wooyoung’s if they moved even the barest minimum.
“What time is it?” Wooyoung whispered-asked into the quiet. Of all things he wanted to say…
Breaking their visual contact, San glanced at the clock on Wooyoung’s side.
Sure Wooyoung could do that himself. Sure. But that meant he would have to stop looking at San. And he wouldn’t do that anytime soon.
“Four… thirty two,” San’s voice whispered back. He sighed. Reached his hand, irises tracing the motion, until his fingers landed on Wooyoung’s knee covered by the blanket. “Couldn’t sleep.”
For some unbeknownst reason, Wooyoung felt his throat tightening, tears threatening to gain life inside his chest. He swallowed them down. “San-ah…”
“I am stupid. I know.”
In that moment, Wooyoung was helpless to do anything but smile softly at the way San’s eyes were cast down, almost as if waiting for Wooyoung to chide him for something. “We both are.”
San looked up at him again, lips forming a cute pout. “‘am more.”
Wooyoung shook his head, a hand sneaking from under the covers to rest atop the one San had on his knee. “Maybe, but… Yeosang seems to think we’re both pretty, hum… What did he say again?”
“Morons?” San supplied helpfully and Wooyoung would be scared he may have overheard his and Yeosang’s conversation earlier, but then San smiled confidently at him, as if saying “that’s just like Yeosang”.
“I missed you terribly…” Wooyoung’s mouth betrayed him all too soon.
San’s head moved in a nod.
They stayed quiet for a breath more, before Wooyoung gave in to the burning curiosity creeping at his relieved heart. He felt like they weren’t out of the danger zone just yet. “Sannie…” he started softly, unable to raise his tone in the quietness of their space. “Did I do something?”
Wooyoung would sooner jump off a bridge before admitting to being so eager to apologize and fix his mistake, whatever it was.
But San was shaking his head vigorously before Wooyoung finished speaking. “No, no, Wooyoungie. It was just… just me.”
“You?”
“I…” San’s voice seemed to break at that, casting his eyes down to look at their hands resting together, Wooyoung’s thumb caressing the top of San’s in slow circles. “Can’t help it most times. Being like this.”
Eyebrows scrunched, Wooyoung shook his head. “Like what?”
And just like that, he noticed San was holding back tears as well. Forgetting all those hurtful, cold and lonely days he’d spent without his best friend, Wooyoung scooted even closer to him, bringing his other hand up so he could hold San’s in a gentle cradle, searching his face for a sign of an upcoming meltdown. Wooyoung felt his own chest constricting in a ball so impossibly tight and it got worse when San’s next words hit him right in the face.
“Clingy. Jealous. When I have no right to be.”
If he had words to speak before now they evaded him so fast that Wooyoung could do nothing more than open his mouth dumbly, staring at San with the utmost disbelief plastered on his features.
“I’m sorry I’m like this. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t… You’re my best friend, Woo and sometimes I just, I’m so…” he trailed off, upper body swaying slightly towards Wooyoung. “I tried, you know? To stay away and hide it, because I think after all these years, it’s just ridiculous at this point. You have other friends, of course you have, damn, I’m not even your best friend and it shouldn’t bother me that you get touchy with other peop…”
“Yes, it should!” Wooyoung interrupted him without processing his reaction beforehand. San looked up at him wide eyed. “San, seriously? Seriously ?”
“What?” he inquired quietly, lips practically wobbling at being interrupted like that.
Wooyoung scoffed humorlessly. “Are you telling me we haven’t spoken in days, weeks, because you were paranoid about being jealous? Because… because you think you’re not my best friend?”
“But I’m not! You’ve said this before! You said I’m clingy and pushed me off so many times, Wooyoung, so many fucking times. And I know it’s my fault, alright? I’m aware of how clingy I can get and how I hug you all the time and always look at you at interviews just because I want to make you laugh, because you are my best friend, damn it and I…”
“Shut up,” Wooyoung blurts in between elated, soft giggles, hurling himself at San, arms locking around his neck and hugging him so tight the older has no choice but to flop down on the bed, taking Wooyoung with him. “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” he keeps mumbling on San’s neck, feeling his hands holding Wooyoung by the waist.
He was feeling so many things at once - anger, frustration, relief, more anger - but mostly Wooyoung just felt incredibly giddy that he could hold his best friend like this again.
“I take back what I said,” he went on after a while, voice muffled by San’s skin. “You are stupid.”
“Hmmph,” San huffed indignantly but unsurprisingly, sounding as if he didn’t mean it at all.
Wooyoung was smiling down at him after pulling his head back a few inches, taking in the way San’s expression was still a little put out.
“Choi San, you are my best friend, you fucking twad! How many times do I have to tell you that?”
“I…”
“No. Now is my turn to talk,” Wooyoung slowly sat up again, just enough so he could uphold a somewhat serious conversation. San mimicked his position, crossing both legs, their knees touching. “I thought I told you this after that concert in New York, didn't I?”
San pretended to think it over. “The one where you picked Yeosang as your best friend?”
Wooyoung promptly smacked San’s chest. “How old are we? Yes, that one. But if I remember correctly, after you gave me the cold shoulder for a whole day, I went to you and begged for your forgiveness, huh? I also told you a person can have more than one best friend.”
“Well, you didn’t exactly beg…”
Wooyoung smacked him again.
“You know what I’m getting at. Just because Yeosang is my oldest and best friend, doesn’t mean you can’t be my best friend too. A different best friend.”
Peering at him tentatively, San’s lips curled into a pout again. “Different how?”
Rolling his eyes without any real bite to it, Wooyoung reached his hands, but now in a gesture for San to take them. He did. He intertwined their fingers, gazing down at it while he spoke, “Different as in, I don’t really think you’re clingy, you know? I actually hate when I have to go a day without your hugs or how you’re always making me laugh. How I want to tell you a bunch of stupid jokes, because I know you’ll laugh too. You always laugh.”
“But then you annoy me,” he sees San snorting at that. “And then you don’t. And then it sucks when you’re cuddling Yunho or Mingi and not me. It fucking sucks.” He lifts his eyes momentarily at San. “I get jealous too.”
As expected, that seemed to have eased some of the strain behind San’s eyes.
Wooyoung had to forcefully resist the urge to jump on him again and hug him senseless, since he thought they would never get this conversation done if he did that. And they needed to get this conversation done.
He thought that maybe… No, not maybe, definitely, this was a long time coming. Their friends thought the same thing, Wooyoung knew, seizing every opportunity to point out how their problems could be solved in five minutes if only they talked everything through.
They didn’t.
Although he was always able to notice when his actions hurt San in a way, there was never a moment when they’d prefer to sit down and mull over their feelings instead of merely solving their quarrel with a much welcome dose of skinship and a quiet healing time in each other’s company. Wooyoung regularly reflected on the possibility of some people just not being made to have long, honest conversations about how they felt at every given moment. His belief was that they could work everything out by simply curling together on the couch or one of their beds.
Thinking back to the previous weeks where he was deprived of his best friend’s presence, Wooyoung wanted to scream at how stupid he’d been.
“And I hate that you think you have to change, San-ah.”
“Maybe I do,” San muttered, sounding so open and hopeless, that against all odds, Wooyoung’s heart broke even more.
He slid impossibly close on the warm, soft mattress, practically climbing on top of San. “Please don’t say that,” Wooyoung whispered while willing his voice not to break. “It makes me feel like the worst person alive that you think you have to change.”
“But this… this jealousy, this need to… is just too much!”
“People get jealous, San! They do. I don’t ever want you to feel like your feelings should change. But…” their eyes locked again. “I hope you know I never meant to hurt you, okay? Sometimes I just don’t know how not to. I often get irritated about something stupid or I don’t know how to retribute your closeness without looking like too much…”
San’s eyebrows scrunch at that, forming a small, confused expression. “Too much?”
“Like maybe we’re together all the time? I mean, people already call us ‘Woosan’ and shit and some days I feel like that’s all they see.”
“Yeah, I thought of that too.”
“It’s not your fault,” Wooyoung reassures him again. “I just have this crappy personality sometimes and I never learned how to avoid it or how to stop myself from being a little shit when you’re trying to be sweet and considerate.”
San doesn’t say anything and Wooyoung imagines there’s a very long film of all their moments together playing in San’s head at that moment. Of when Wooyoung so blatantly rejected his touch or said he didn’t love San all that much. Of when he chose to stay close and share skinship with someone else, not stopping with the attitude even when he looked to the side and saw San’s face shatter.
“No matter how many times I tell myself not to do it, sometimes I just…”
“Does this mean our friendship is messed up?” San snorts quietly.
Wooyoung mimics him. “No, it means we should’ve talked about this a long time ago.”
“I hate feeling like that, I do. And that’s why I wanted to keep my distance for a while.”
“You shouldn’t stay quiet and keep your distance, you should talk to me. Even when you’re jealous about me having other friends.”
“Even then?”
“Even then, San-ah. Because no matter how many friends I have and how close I am to them, it may seem to you that I look or touch them how I do to you, but it doesn’t feel that way to me. None of them is you. None of them.”
San’s tone is small and fragile when he answers, “Okay.”
“Promise me you won’t push me away when I do something that hurts you,” Wooyoung presses on, squeezing San’s hands to make sure he understands.
He nods. “What if I’m too jealous to hide it?”
“Tell me.”
“What if it’s not just one of the boys, but like… Felix or Yeonjun?” this time, San doesn’t look at him when saying those words.
Wooyoung can’t help but smirk at that, satisfied that he at least wasn’t completely oblivious when it came to San. “I knew it! You were jealous of Felix, weren’t you?”
San can’t bother to pretend, apparently, merely raising his chin in defiance but choosing not to dignify Wooyoung with a response.
He scoffs. “You became friends with them too, though.”
“And?”
The joyous laugh escapes Wooyoung before he can stop it. The way San looks so freaking cute when he’s jealous and telling Wooyoung about it like that, instead of just walking away. Wooyoung relishes in the feeling for a moment.
“Can we agree that this is normal? That we’re gonna feel jealous and occasionally my awful mood is gonna cause me to be a bit rude to you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you? I promise I’ll try to be better at that.”
“I don’t want you to change either,” San tells him.
“Neither of us have to change. What we do have to do is be honest and open with each other,” Wooyoung almost laughs again at being so wise and reasonable. “And sometimes, you know, if you want to act on your jealousy and drag me away from someone else, so we can cuddle on the couch and watch Titanic, that’s fine too. I won’t be mad.”
“That would be all the time, really.”
“I don’t mind,” Wooyoung whispers back.
Logically, there’s no way for them to be together every hour of every day and not get sick of each other at some point. He and San actually get into arguments quite a lot and it’s impossible for two people to only have one another, especially Wooyoung who genuinely likes to get along with everyone, enjoying the quality time he has with his other friends.
Only he knows he’d probably trade everything else if it meant San would look at him the way he did when Wooyoung last spoke.
Pathetic, Yeosang’s judging voice echoes in his brain.
An involuntary yawn crawls its way up Wooyoung’s throat and he has to open his mouth to let it out. San gazed tentatively at the clock on the bedside table, their hands still touching.
“Really couldn’t sleep?” Wooyoung inquiries, feeling the inevitable wave of sleep wanting to pull him under again.
“Felt bad after that doc ended and you just left. Yunho tried to convince me to come here so we could talk, but it took me a few hours to muster the courage.”
San shrugs. Wooyoung nods slowly.
“Then let’s sleep now.”
They don’t talk about it and it doesn’t seem to be necessary anyway, Wooyoung thinks, as San moves with ease along with him, settling back down into the bed, taking the space he usually does when they do this, back against the wall, arms stretched so Wooyoung can fit in the middle.
It’s already quiet while they’re adjusting to each other, blankets and sheets rustling in the dead of night, the entire house asleep.
Wooyoung wants to ask where the hell Yeosang and Jongho are. But he doesn’t.
San wraps his arms around Wooyoung, pulling him so impossibly close, he has no choice but to bury his nose on San’s neck, fitting tightly to him. It’s warm and comfortable and familiar and Wooyoung feels like he can breathe again after so many days.
Humming softly against his hair, San rubs circles on the small of Wooyoung’s back with one hand, while the order pulls the blanket on top of them.
It’s second nature. They’ve done this so many times before.
So Wooyoung doesn’t know why he wants to cry all of a sudden.
“Don’t spend so much time without talking to me ever again,” he whispers, voice muffled on San’s chest.
He feels more than hears San’s murmur of acquiescence.
The bedside lamp is still on.
For the first time ever since he woke up with San sitting on his bed, Wooyoung hears the rain outside, faintly coming down on the window glass.
San weaves his fingers through Wooyoung’s hair.
Wooyoung falls asleep instantly.
- - -
The morning found San and Wooyoung in the same position from the previous night, limbs relaxed into each other, warm breaths mixing.
San’s heart did a somersault when he looked behind Wooyoung’s hea, though, with sleepy eyes and saw Yeosang sitting on his own bed, phone in hand typing away with a shrewd smile lighting his mischievous eyes. He glanced up catching San’s gaze and smiled knowingly at him.
In his arms, Wooyoung doesn’t give any signs of steering back into consciousness. San held Yeosang’s scrutiny for as long as it took the other one to focus on his mobile again.
San narrowed his eyes.
Yeosang got up, still smiling and not bothering to look at them again, talking while he walked out of the room, an evident smile on his face.
He turned back to San when he reached the door, “Pathetic.”
His voice carried inside the quiet room, tone weirdly fond, making San smile too, stupidly shy and satisfied.
When they were alone again, San took no time at all to bury himself into Wooyoung and let sleep take over him one more time. He didn’t bother looking at the time.
At that moment, in their very own atmosphere, nothing else mattered.
fin.