Archive of Our Own

“I can’t do it.”

Wooyoung shook his head, the knot in his stomach now too prominent for him to continue looking at his reflection any longer. He bit his lips and looked away, then decided to leave the mirror altogether and went to sit on Hongjoong’s bed instead. He caught a glimpse of Hongjoong rolling his eyes and while he knew his friend was reacting this way because he cared, it only made Wooyoung feel ten times worse.

Hongjoong must have noticed. He always noticed. He closed the small distance separating him from the bed and climbed on it, his hands soon finding Wooyoung’s in his as he sat cross-legged in front of him. Wooyoung didn’t dare to look up.

“Of course you can,” Hongjoong reassured, the gentleness in his voice forcing Wooyoung to swallow the lump slowly starting to form in his throat.

He still couldn’t look at Hongjoong, so he kept his gaze down, stared at their linked hands on his lap. At the clothing item under it, hiding his thighs. At the pretty, flowery tissue he had been so excited to see on himself…

“Get up.”

Before Wooyoung could protest, he was being tugged out of the bed and brought back to the mirror, Hongjoong standing behind him.

“Look.”

Wooyoung sighed, not too fond of Hongjoong’s way of bossing him around, but they both knew he needed it today, or he wouldn’t even be here in the first place. Wooyoung had opened up to Hongjoong a few months back partly because he believed things would move once his friend knew, and he had been right. Hongjoong had been a great help then, he had been a great help during the months that followed, and he was being a great help now, as Wooyoung struggled to look up.

“Come on Wooyoung, you’ve been waiting for this moment for so long.”

Hongjoong’s voice was softer now, gentler. He was still holding Wooyoung’s hand and gave it a light squeeze, and maybe that was the last push Wooyoung had needed. He looked up, heart beating fast as he stared at his reflection for the umpteenth time this morning.

He looked… Shit, he looked good. He looked so goddamn pretty his lips twitched up into a smile without his consent, but Hongjoong was grinning too and Wooyoung couldn’t bring it in himself to stop.

It looked more like a dress than a skirt but it was exactly what Wooyoung had liked about this outfit. He had been eyeing it for months, closing the tab on his phone every few days, only to open it again and stare, wondering if he would ever be brave enough to take the next step. It had taken him five months of deep talks with Hongjoong to press the button and buy it, and a whole more to accept to wear it.

And now was the day.

Wooyoung swirled a bit, just halfway, enough to see the pale blue skirt following the movement for a second, until it went back into place. He turned again, on the other side this time, clutching Hongjoong’s hand in fear that his friend would leave, because he needed the support.

The skirt flew prettily but so did his top. It was a tube top with two large strips of frill on the upper part, spreading from one shoulder to the other and made with the same tissue as the skirt – pale blue with tiny daisies scattered everywhere. Hongjoong had added two straps so the top wouldn’t slide down but they were barely noticeable, leaving Wooyoung’s neck, collarbones, and shoulders fully exposed.

Wooyoung’s gaze moved from his chest to his stomach, looking at the space separating the skirt from the top. He wasn’t as fit as Jongho or San, but he liked his body – San had helped a lot on his quest to appreciate it – and he was proud of how he looked right now, with the skirt perfectly hugging his waist, hiding his belly button but showing enough skin for Wooyoung’s liking.

And then, there was the skirt. The pretty, cherished skirt Wooyoung had kept on a hanger for weeks, staring at it way too many times for way too long, but always careful to do so when Jongho wasn’t home, or when San wasn’t over. Now it was there, on him, falling just above his knees and brushing against his thighs, and Wooyoung couldn’t fight the warmth bubbling in his stomach, the intense feeling of pride at the sight.

Hongjoong was right. Wooyoung had struggled with his own thoughts for too long to backtrack now.

He sighed, accepting his fate as his smile grew wider and wider, until he was beaming at his reflection. Hongjoong snorted and the next instant his fingers were disappearing in Wooyoung’s dark hair, busy arranging his hairstyle for the third time over the span of one hour.

There wasn’t much to arrange anymore, honestly. Honjoong had done an incredible work already, maybe even too much for Wooyoung’s liking. The skirt was his goal for the day and simply wearing it in front of his friends would be enough, but Hongjoong had insisted on doing his makeup and styling his hair differently for the day, and Wooyoung hadn’t had the heart to turn him down.

He didn’t regret it though.

“It’s a big day for you, right ? I want you to feel extra pretty,” Hongjoong had said while braiding his hair a bit earlier in the morning.

Wooyoung hadn’t answered, but he hadn’t needed to. Hongjoong knew enough. He hadn’t had a big day like Wooyoung, hadn’t cared for one. When he had first decided to try and wear a skirt, he had simply done it. No questions, no doubts, no fears. And it had been fine, because their friends were amazing, kind, open-minded and the best people Wooyoung had ever met.

Hongjoong wore skirts occasionally, without really thinking. Hongjoong wore crazy outfits every week. Hongjoong was comfortable, he was free.

Wooyoung hoped he could be like him, he hoped he could brush his doubts aside and just wear whatever he wanted to wear, but he couldn’t.

So yes, today was a big day. Today was the day, and Wooyoung was terrified, he was still filled with doubts, he was still hesitating, but the ball of excitement bouncing in his chest was bigger than his dread, and Wooyoung knew this was what he had to focus on.

To his pleasant surprise, Hongjoong’s extra work was helping.

He had used the growing length of Wooyoung’s hair to tie it up in a small – almost ridiculous – ponytail, but instead of simply pulling on the strands, he made two neat braids, one on each side of Wooyoung’s head, and had tied them behind, letting some loose strands fall against his forehead. Wooyoung wondered if Hongjoong knew San loved when his hair was falling that way because it gave him an excuse to stroke Wooyoung’s forehead or tuck strands behind his ear. If he did know, he didn’t say anything. He smirked though, so Wooyoung wasn’t too sure.

He hadn’t put as much effort into his makeup, mostly because Wooyoung wasn’t a big fan of it to begin with. He had put on some orangey eyeshadow by himself along with his mascara just like he was used to doing when he went out, and that was it. Hongjoong had pouted at first, then straight on sulked when Wooyoung had refused to wear a necklace, so eventually, Wooyoung had accepted a compromise. Hongjoong had done his eyebrows then, and dusted Wooyoung’s cheek with an orange blush which was utterly useless because Wooyoung was a blushing mess each time he met his own eyes in the mirror.

Just like now.

Hongjoong must have noticed it, because he let go of Wooyoung’s hair and giggled, before he teasingly pinched his cheek. Ignoring Wooyoung’s yelp, he grabbed his shoulders and forced him to turn around, facing him.

“Hey,” he murmured, and his tone had dropped lower, more serious. Wooyoung’s gaze naturally snapped up to meet his. “You’re beautiful, Wooyoung. I know I keep saying you shouldn’t backtrack now, how you’ve come too far to stop and I stand by my point but… I don’t want you to feel forced. If you don’t feel like doing it today, don’t. If you think you’re not ready yet, then it’s okay, we can wait. There’s no rush.”

The uncomfortable feeling set in the pit of Wooyoung’s stomach smothered. He felt himself smiling, slightly more confident than he had been a few minutes ago.

“I want to,” he answered, just as serious as his friend. “I’m nervous, sure, but I’m not uncomfortable. I wanna do it. Today.”

Hongjoong frowned, gaze intense and intrusive on Wooyoung’s face, but genuine and caring.

“Are you sure ?”

“Certain.”

Another look, another frown.

Then slowly, Hongjoong’s features softened, and his smile was back.

“Alright.” He chuckled, passing a hand through his bleached hair. “San will have such a hard time thinking straight today.”

Oh dear.

Wooyoung’s heart dropped, and he instantly looked away, clearing his throat.

“About that…”

He felt Hongjoong’s gaze back on him and could easily imagine his frown. He purposely ignored him and kept his eyes on Hongjoong’s carpet.

Maybe I should buy a carpet too. The parquet floor is so cold when I wake up at night. Blue would go well with the curtains. Or maybe white ? No, white is a pain in the ass to clean and Jongho wouldn't–

“Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung sighed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get out of this one.

“I didn’t tell him,” he confessed, looking at Hongjoong again.

“What ? Wooyoung, you said–”

“Yeah, I said I would talk to him but I chickened out at the last minute and then it never seemed like the right time to bring the subject up.” He sighed, doing his best to keep his hand from pulling on his hair in frustration and risk ruining Hongjoong’s work. “I can’t just– suddenly announce I love wearing skirts while we eat pizzas or something.”

Hongjoong frowned.

“Of course you can. It’s just clothes, there’s nothing weird with–”

“I know !” Wooyoung interrupted before Hongjoong could lecture him again. It was for his own good, Wooyoung knew that, and Hongjoong's speeches were usually useful and motivating but he really didn’t need one right now. “I know Joong. I’m just– you know. It went wrong the first time I ever talked about it to someone and I don’t want to experience it ever again, certainly not with San…”

The uncomfortable feeling was back, bigger this time, more intense, forcing him to take a shuddering breath as two hands found his cheeks, cupping his face. He looked up hesitantly, meeting Hongjoong’s bright smile.

“It’s San, Wooyoung.”

He made it sound like it was enough, like it was the answer to everything...

Wooyoung smiled. Then he giggled, pushing Hongjoong’s hands away while his friend chuckled with him.

Somehow, it was the answer to everything. San wouldn’t judge him. San wouldn’t do anything that would hurt or harm him in any way. There was no reason to be scared when it came to San, just like there was no reason to be worried about the rest of their friends.

“The only bad thing that could possibly happen is him fainting as soon as he sees you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Wooyoung snorted – gently – punching Hongjoong’s chest.

“I’m not joking,” Hongjoong laughed, “he’s already head over heels in love with you, there’s no way he’ll survive that.”

He took a step back and gestured toward Wooyoung, moving his hand up and down to emphasize his words. Wooyoung flushed, again, but before he could say anything back the door flew open and they both jumped, heads snapping toward the sudden intruder.

“Hey guys, we’re ready to go so– holy shit.”

Jongho.

Jongho was the intruder, one hand still on the doorknob, wide eyes stuck on Wooyoung. His gaze went from his skirt to his face, then back to his skirt and Wooyoung felt his cheeks heating up as Jongho stayed silent, gaping.

“Hum,” Wooyoung started hesitantly. That seemed to snap Jongho back to reality.

“You’re– that’s– wow, Wooyoung !” He laughed, and it sounded genuine. It sounded kind. “You look good. I didn’t know you liked wearing skirts.”

“I never really talked about it…”

“Does San know ?”

Wooyoung exchanged a look with Hongjoong. His friend shrugged, smirking as he walked toward his bed to pack his stuff. Wooyoung heard himself chuckling.

“He doesn’t.”

“Oh,” was Jongho’s constructive answer. Then, “This is going to be fun.”

–––

Jongho’s reaction had helped a lot. That, and the fact they needed to go. Once Hongjoong’s bag was ready and Wooyoung had collected his phone, keys and wallet from the bed, they headed out of the room, Hongjoong closing the door behind the three of them.

Wooyoung hadn’t even realized how noisy his friends were while he was busy freaking out with Hongjoong, but now that he was entering the living room, he wondered how no one had knocked on the door of the apartment to complain yet.

Seonghwa was squirming on the couch, trapped by Yunho who was apparently having the best time of his life trying to tickle his friend to death. Mingi was there too, running around the couch, yelling and laughing while holding his phone, no doubt recording the whole scene.

Jongho cleared his throat, the sound visibly enough to make them all stop moving and…

Wooyoung gulped.

The silence that followed was not a usual one. Three new pairs of eyes were on him, maybe even five, Wooyoung didn’t know, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He was already feeling small, his hold around his phone and wallet tightening. Absently, he crossed his arms in front of himself, trying to hide his stomach, his top, hoping he could disappear so they would stop watching him, stop judging, stop wondering and–

Yunho whistled. Seonghwa smiled.

Wooyoung’s heart missed a beat, and Mingi yelled.

The next second, his friend was lifting him and, ignoring Wooyoung’s yelps, made him swirl into the air. The yelps soon turned into laughs as Mingi kept shouting “you’re so pretty !” while holding him, filling Wooyoung’s heart with joy and his chest with warmth.

“Can you spin round ?” Mingi asked with shining eyes after putting Wooyoung back on his feet.

Wooyoung complied, always happy to make Mingi smile. His skirt flew around him and Wooyoung knew his face was as red as his friend’s hair, but the exclamation coming from Jongho, Yunho and Mingi helped him put his embarrassment aside and focus on how relieved he felt at the moment.

His friends were laughing with him, not at him. They were supportive.

They found him pretty.

It took them a while, but they eventually allowed Wooyoung to squirm out of their grasp and he immediately headed to the kitchen. The door was closed and all the joy still swirling in his chest was slowly being replaced by a new cloud of worry, but before he could start overthinking and chicken out, the door opened and Wooyoung found himself face to face with his best friend.

He froze, heart dropping, then climbing in his throat. Yeosang stopped moving too, but he didn’t stay stuck for long. One glance at Wooyoung’s skirt and he was already leaning forward, bringing him into a hug.

“I’m proud of you,” he whispered, and Wooyoung melted into his embrace.

It was simple. It was just a hug and an easy sentence.

But to Wooyoung, it meant everything.

Yeosang had been there for the most part of his life, he had been there through the good and the bad, he had been there during Wooyoung’s hardest times. He knew the big things and the little ones, the important news and the dull anecdotes. He knew how big this day was for Wooyoung.

And he was proud of him.

Wooyoung was proud of himself too.

He knew he was starting to be teary so he let go of Yeosang to avoid bursting into tears and ruining his makeup, but Yeosang wasn’t any better. They both laughed at each other’s face, leaning into another hug for a few seconds before Yeosang took a step back.

“Nice, now go get your man.”

He winked as Wooyoung rolled his eyes, then he was out of the kitchen, keeping the door half-open behind him.

Wooyoung peaked inside, hesitant.

San was there, busy moving fruits from a basket to a cool bag. He looked cute today, his black hair lacking any product and falling on his forehead. Wooyoung loved it when he pushed it back too, it brought out the beauty of his eyes and showed his eyebrow slit, but seeing him completely natural, bare face with a basic shirt would always be Wooyoung’s personal favorite.

Pushing away any dreadful thought, Wooyoung pushed the door and stepped into the room. He wondered for a second, if he should say something or clear his throat to announce his presence, but San beat him to it.

He looked up, met Wooyoung’s eyes, a smile already growing on his lips… before it dropped completely when he saw Wooyoung’s outfit.

The apples he was holding dropped too.

“Shit, fuck–”

In a rush, San bent down to pick up the fruit but he knocked his head against the table when he tried to get up, making three other apples roll on the surface and fall, then the apricots followed, and the melon…

Wooyoung pressed his lips into a thin line, trying not to laugh as San managed to catch it before it met the ground, then carried on getting up without knocking himself out again. His cheeks were flushed red, so was his neck, and he wasn’t meeting Wooyoung’s eyes.

Wooyoung waited, watching him put the remaining fruits in the cool bag. Closing it. Putting it on the table, along with the picnic bags Seonghwa had prepared. He waited again, as San kept staring at the table for a few seconds. 

Eventually, San exhaled and looked up. 

“Wooyoung,” he breathed out. “You look– you’re really, I mean, that’s really– fuck.”

He brought a hand to his face, rubbing it in frustration and Wooyoung couldn’t hold it anymore. He burst out laughing, heart swelling at the sight of his boyfriend panicking. San chuckled too, glancing over Wooyoung through his fingers, before he let his hand fall.

He moved, and Wooyoung did too. They naturally met in the middle of the kitchen, their hands instantly finding each other. San linked their fingers and took a step back to really look at Wooyoung, his gaze moving from his hair to his eyes, falling to his neck, his shoulders, the exposed skin of his stomach, to end up on his thighs and linger there for a long, long moment…

“Shit, Wooyoung…” he said, blinking a few times before he looked up again, straight into Wooyoung’s eyes. “You’re gorgeous.”

Wooyoung’s heart did at least three back somersaults.

“Yeah ?”

“Yeah.” San laughed a bit, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “You look absolutely ravishing.”

“You're not…” Wooyoung hesitated, biting his bottom lip. “You’re not mad at me or anything ?”

“Why would I ?”

Wooyoung sighed. He let go of San’s hands to press himself against his body instead, circling San’s waist with his arms and burying his face into the crook of his lover’s neck.

“I don’t know,” he murmured. “I just want to be sure you're okay with it.”

He felt San reciprocating the hug, his hands on his back, then his lips against his temple. It felt good to be there, somewhere safe and familiar, after the morning he had spent worrying and doubting. He felt exhausted already, yet his mind was buzzing with something bright, something that made him happy. He closed his eyes to appreciate it at its fullest, to appreciate the peace of being true to himself and the warmth of knowing his friends loved him.

“You’re free to wear whatever you want Wooyoung,” San whispered. “You don’t need my approval.”

“I know…”

He moved away, slightly, and met San’s eyes. He pressed a chaste kiss against his lips.

“I love you.”

San smiled, a beautiful, warming smile.

“I love you too.” He kissed Wooyoung again once, twice, but stopped right before Wooyoung could try and deepen it. “I am mad you didn’t wear this sooner though.”

He gently patted Wooyoung’s butt but his hand didn't linger there for long, coming back to the small of his back instead. Wooyoung smiled, but he knew it wasn’t reaching his eyes.

“I didn’t feel ready.”

He had tried to be. He had thought he was, at some point, a long time ago. But the people he had believed were his friends back in high school weren’t as open-minded as the ones he had now, and his first skirt disaster had left him with scars. Not visible, but there, inside. Wooyoung never thought about trying again, not even years after the events, not until he met Hongjoong and San, and all their friends, not until he learned to love and accept himself again.

San gently stroked the exposed skin between Wooyoung’s skirt and his top.

“Are you now ?” he asked, his eyes kind, his tone patient.

Wooyoung smiled. “Yeah. Definitely.”

–––

Once all bags were packed and Wooyoung’s phone, keys and wallet were safely secured in San’s backpack – not having pockets was an absolute nightmare, Wooyoung realized – they headed out of Hongjoong’s apartment.

The park they had chosen for their outing wasn’t too far, they would need to walk for fifteen minutes, twenty at most which wasn’t too bad, even while carrying their picnic supplies, but Yeosang was a lazy asshole and apparently one complaint from him was enough to make the whole group agree with him : they needed to take the subway.

Wooyoung couldn't be mad at his friend, he could have simply said he didn't feel comfortable enough and Yeosang would have changed his mind in a second. Wooyoung knew that, he knew none of his friends would force him if he was nervous… But his lips stayed sealed, his heart hammering against his chest as they reached the station, and Wooyoung felt stupid for being scared of voicing his discomfort to the people he loved the most, who he knew loved him just as much.

They stepped into the subway, the automatic doors closed behind them, San leaned against it, then went back to his conversation with Mingi and Jongho. Wooyoung stood in front of him and timidly grabbed the bottom part of San’s jacket, not wanting to touch a bar and in need of San's close presence. He would challenge his balance then, maybe it would help him focus on something that wasn’t his current discomfort.

He thought it would be enough.

Look at your feet, listen to Mingi’s voice, focus on your balance, don’t think about your skirt, don’t think about people watching you, don't think about people watching you, don’t think about people watching you, don't think about people watching you…

It wasn’t nearly enough.

He refused to look at anything but his feet, but he could still feel people staring, could imagine their unapproving glares, hear their hostile mocking and Wooyoung didn’t want to care, he really didn’t, but he couldn’t help it. He took a shuddering breath and tried to exhale as calmly as possible, closing his eyes, but he could feel his whole body tensing and a familiar yet uncomfy feeling bloomed in the pit of his stomach. It grew when Wooyoung inhaled again, grew when he swallowed the lump in his throat, grew when he exhaled, when he felt the tears climbing, it grew again and again and wouldn’t stop growing and–

A warm hand found the small of his back, and Wooyoung was gently brought toward a solid, familiar chest.

San.

Without much thought, Wooyoung hid his face into the crook of San’s neck and melted into the sudden embrace, focusing on the familiarity and the warmth of San’s body. The hold was firm around his waist, unwavering. Wooyoung felt safe there. He was okay.

One station passed, then a second. He heard Yunho use his scary voice once – “What are you looking at ? a problem ?” – and it was enough to bring a small smile back on Wooyoung’s lips. In his panic, his mind had somehow forgotten how thoughtful his friends could be. Jongho and Yunho would always throw nasty stares at anyone daring to do as much as looking at Hongjoong for a bit too long every time he chose to go out with a skirt or those really weird shoes he had bought last year. Wooyoung mentally slapped himself for not thinking they would do the same for him.

It wasn’t until the voice-over announced their stop that Wooyoung dared to open his eyes again, but he didn’t let go of San until the train came to a halt and the doors opened. They parted reluctantly, then found each other’s hand as soon as they were out of the station.

“Let’s settle on the other side of the river, hopefully there won’t be too many kids there,” Hongjoong decided once they reached the park, his wise words quickly answered by a wave of nods and voiced approvals.

They crossed the park, purposely ignored Yeosang complaining about how heavy the bag he was holding was starting to be – Jongho held it for him ten seconds later even though he was already carrying half of their supplies – took the bridge crossing the river, and Wooyoung was pleased to see the other side was indeed devoid of any family with children. They passed two groups of people their age, some pensioners, a few couples, but no one too noisy, no baby crying and, most importantly, no teenagers.

Wooyoung’s attention was caught a couple minutes later, when he noticed Seonghwa and Hongjoong jumping over… something a few meters ahead, before continuing their walk.

Wooyoung frowned. From where he stood, slightly behind since he had chosen to take his time walking by San’s side, he couldn’t see what had made their friends jump but Jongho was jumping too – after a slight hesitation – then helped Yeosang do the same, and now Wooyoung’s curiosity was awoken.

His questions were soon answered, when they were supposed to leave the path to walk on grass instead. There, they were welcomed by a beautiful, giant puddle of brown water.

It had been raining buckets at the beginning of the week but the ground had dried ever since, which was why they hadn’t canceled their picnic, but it seemed like three days of blue sky and bright sun hadn’t been enough to get rid of this puddle.

Yunho glanced at San and Wooyoung from where he was standing next to them, and snorted, before effortlessly stepping over the brownish liquid.

Wooyoung wished he could punch him.

At least Mingi was slightly more apologetic, giving Wooyoung a sheepish smile before he hopped over the puddle and left his friends behind. Wooyoung sighed, inspecting the size of the puddle and wondering how on earth Hongjoong had managed to jump over it without soaking his shoes. Yeosang had been helped by Jongho so it didn’t count. Anyone could do anything with Jongho’s help.

A small tug on Wooyoung’s hand made him look up, and his gaze instantly found San’s pretty smile.

“Come on, it’s less watery over there,” his boyfriend said, nodding toward somewhere on Wooyoung’s right. He walked and Wooyoung followed, going along the puddle and continuing on the path until the ground was less water and more… mud.

Lots of mud.

It was fine though ; better than a giant puddle. Walking on some muddy ground sounded more appealing than having his socks soaked for an entire day, and it looked like they didn’t have much choice since the muddy part was right next to another massive puddle but…

Wooyoung glanced at his shoes. His pretty, immaculate, white sneakers.

Then he eyed the mud.

His sneakers again.

He was about to groan in frustration when San let go of his hand and bowed down. He placed one arm under Wooyoung’s knee and before Wooyoung could protest or even blink, he was being lifted up in San’s arms. Wooyoung threw his own arms around San’s neck on instinct, eyes wide.

“San, wh–”

But before he could say anything, San hopped over the mud, then walked three more steps in it, until they were both back on dry grounds.

“Here, the princess is still clean,” San said with a triumphant smile that made Wooyoung’s heart flutter, before he started walking toward their friends.

Wooyoung’s entire being was flushed with an unexpected mixture of awe and embarrassment.

“Me wearing a skirt doesn’t mean I can’t do things on my own you know,” he mumbled. “Or that I’m suddenly a princess.”

San stopped. His face fell, and he started bending down to let Wooyoung go.

“Right. Sorry, I didn’t want to–”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

San blinked. He stared at Wooyoung for a few seconds in complete silence, then his face broke back into a smile and he scoffed, leaning forward to bump his head against Wooyoung’s.

“You’re a menace, Jung Wooyoung.”

“You love me.”

“I do.” San started walking again, not looking at Wooyoung but his smile turned soft. “I really do.”

–––

The picnic was nice.

The weather was ideal ; not too warm so the park wasn’t crowded with people trying to use their free afternoon to sunbathe, leaving Wooyoung and his friends utterly alone on this part of the park ; not too cold either, a gentle breeze constantly blowing across the blankets they had spread on the grass but pleasant despite Wooyoung’s light clothes.

They shared the food Seonghwa and Hongjoong had prepared while talking and laughing, the conversations light and joyful, the laughs genuine and warming. Wooyoung loved spending time with his friends and today felt ten times better. Maybe because they kept complimenting him. Maybe because this was his first real day off in a while. Maybe because Wooyoung felt loved and accepted, even more so than usual today.

He smiled to himself, hiding his grin behind his glass of water. He was done eating but couldn’t move, Yeosang kneeling behind him and too busy tucking any daisy he could find into Wooyoung’s hair.

“The braids keep them from falling,” Yeosang had said in awe ten minutes ago, and Wooyoung was at his mercy ever since. He didn’t mind though. Being pampered felt nice and spending some quality time with his best friend was even better. They talked quietly while Yeosang worked – Wooyoung had no idea how many flowers were in his hair by now – slightly apart from the rest of the group.

They had been left in peace the whole time, but Wooyoung suddenly felt an intense gaze on him and he looked up, curious, only to see San’s phone obviously turned toward him. The sound of a picture being taken echoed in the silence between them, and San’s eyes widened when he met Wooyoung’s, caught red-handed. Yeosang snorted while an expression of guilt took over San’s face, making him look so adorable Wooyoung considered leaving his boyfriend in his guilt, but a reassuring smile was already falling on his lips. San caught it, and smiled back.

When Wooyoung took San’s phone to look at the time later in the afternoon, he couldn’t help but smile, his chest filling with warmth. A new wallpaper was already set on the lock screen.

–––

Wooyoung had a great time talking about conservatory stuff with Hongjoong and Jongho as he ate his piece of watermelon, but now he was done and the conversation had turned to music theory, a subject Wooyoung couldn’t care less about. He smiled at his friend and politely left, standing up to stretch a bit.

A daisy fell from his hair and Wooyoung chuckled, still wondering how many of them he still had on his head. Hopefully they won't wilt too soon.

He threw his watermelon skin in the paper bag next to their blankets, then didn’t take any time to think and naturally moved to sit on San’s lap. His boyfriend was busy talking with Yunho and didn’t bother looking up when Wooyoung settled there, but his hand was against Wooyoung’s waist in an instant.

Wooyoung grinned and snuggled closer, head pressed against San’s collarbone. He closed his eyes, set on taking a small nap there when he felt a hand on his knee, then fingers tickling his thigh. Frowning, he opened his eyes to look down at whatever San was doing… and flushed red, heart fluttering when realization hit him.

Wooyoung had managed to forget he was wearing a skirt and it had fallen messily on his lap after sitting there, revealing more skin than it was supposed to. San, still holding his conversation with Yunho, was currently putting Wooyoung’s skirt back in place, gently pulling on the hem so it could fall perfectly above his knees, stretching the tissue to avoid any folds.

It was a simple act, a mundane thing to do, but maybe the simplicity of the gesture was what suddenly made Wooyoung’s chest burn with fondness and love for his boyfriend. He hid his face in the crook of San’s neck, blissfully smiling.

The touching stopped but San’s hand found Wooyoung’s knee soon enough, lightly stroking his skin. His voice never wavered, his attention still fully turned toward Yunho and Wooyoung wondered if he had even noticed what he had been doing, or if he had reacted on instinct.

The thought alone made Wooyoung grin wider.

Unable to contain his affection any longer, he pressed his lips against San’s neck and kissed him once, then twice, then three times until San gently patted his knee. Wooyoung stopped, but he didn’t dare to look up. The conversation had stopped, so he could tell two pairs of eyes were on him now. He tried to ignore the heat climbing on his cheeks and snuggled closer, muttering a simple “sorry” and closing his eyes to take the nap he was supposed to take a few minutes ago already.

He heard San scoffing, Yunho laughing, then felt soft lips pressed against his shoulder. The hand around his waist squeezed once, then San was talking again, attention turned back to Yunho.

Wooyoung fell asleep with flushed cheeks and a dreamy smile on his lips.

–––

“We’ll go on a walk then, is it okay if we leave our stuff there ?” Hongjoong asked, already standing up as he gestured toward his and Seonghwa’s bags.

Wooyoung nodded, offering his friend a kind smile.

“Sure. I don’t think we’re going to move anyway. Right, Sannie ?”

A low hum came from the man sitting behind Wooyoung, strong chest pressed against his back. Arms thrown around Wooyoung’s body, he was evidently too busy drawing patterns on Wooyoung’s forearm with the tip of his fingers to care about the conversation.

Wooyoung gave Hongjoong a look and his friend laughed at the exchange while Seonghwa smiled softly, his expression so full of fondness it almost made Wooyoung blush.

“Okay then. See you in a few.”

After a wave and a few smiles, Wooyoung was left alone with San.

The rest of their friends had left to play volleyball a few meters away, but Wooyoung didn’t feel comfortable enough to go all out while wearing his skirt and had sat out today’s game. San had decided he would stay there too, vehemently refusing to leave his boyfriend behind despite Wooyoung’s constant reassurances that he didn’t mind, that staying with Seonghwa and Hongjoong could be fun too – it wasn’t fun, but it was nice. He really didn’t want San to deny himself just for Wooyoung…

But his boyfriend had made up his mind and after clinging to Wooyoung’s back and hugging him like a koala without flinching as their friends prepared to leave, Wooyoung had accepted his defeat. The four of them had cleaned the blankets while their friends left, stuffing the remaining food in Tupperware and putting it back into the cold bag. Only the fruits remained out of bags, put in a large bowl on one of the corners of a blanket, along with the plate of cookies Seonghwa had baked for them in the morning.

Now that they were alone though, the empty blankets looked tempting.

Wooyoung gently pushed San away and leaned forward to sit on all fours.

“Woo ?”

Wooyoung ignored his boyfriend and crawled toward the middle of their flooring of blankets, careful enough to keep his skirt properly down on his legs – he knew they were alone and he didn’t mind San looking at his butt, but his boyfriend forgot boundaries sometimes, and Wooyoung wanted to avoid dealing with it in a public place – before he stopped and turned around. He leaned backward until his back hit the ground, his head turned toward the white sky.

He could hear his friends screaming in the distance, the wind brushing against foliage in the nearby forest. The smell of pines and sap was in the air and Wooyoung smiled, closing his eyes.

“Come here and kiss me ?”

San was by his side in a second, lips already catching Wooyoung’s. Wooyoung slightly started at San’s sudden vigor but he quickly melted into the kiss, not wasting any time and sliding his tongue against San’s lips. San grunted and Wooyoung chuckled, then the kiss deepened.

The wind blew stronger and the air grew colder, but Wooyoung’s body was warm, his skin burning in every place San’s fingers brushed against, making him shudder and sigh in appreciation.

San's lips moved from Wooyoung’s face to his jaw, lingering there only for a second and quickly reaching his neck. He pressed a kiss there, then another, and another, slowly going down and making Wooyoung shiver against his will. Tender lips reached his collarbone and before Wooyoung could even think, San was biting him hard, forcing a gasp out of him. Wooyoung’s knees bent and his skirt started to fall along his thigh but he was too busy pulling on San’s hair and begging to be kissed again to notice. He didn’t notice San’s hand moving from his hip to his thigh either, not when his lips were finding San’s again. He didn’t feel the tissue slowly brushing his skin as it continued to fall, exposing more skin on its way, or San’s hand sliding under the skirt and moving along his thigh, going up, up, up…

Wooyoung abruptly broke their kiss.

“And where do you think this hand is going ?” he asked, panting, but tone severe.

He probably looked like a mess but hoped his flushed cheeks wouldn’t deceive the serious expression he was trying to hold, because San knew he was supposed to keep his hands to himself when they were in public, Wooyoung had told him a million times but San never seemed to listen and–

“Yeah, San. Where do you think this hand is going ?”

Wooyoung and San jumped apart, both yelping. Jongho looked at them with a lazy smile, sitting cross-legged on one edge of a blanket.

“What the hell, Jongho.” Wooyoung sighed, sitting up and rubbing his temple, trying to calm his heart. “When did you arrive ?”

Jongho shrugged and leaned forward to grab a nectarine from the bowl.

“Just now, but if I may,” he took a bite – a giant one, and Wooyoung winced at how harsh it sounded – “I think you two should stop making out because I can easily see your black boxers and I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t want the whole park to see the yellow kitten printed on its left side.”

Wooyoung’s entire face flushed red and, slightly panicking, he hastened to put his skirt properly back on his legs. His heart did a flip when he realized Jongho had been right, his underwear had clearly been on full display for a bit and San’s stupid hand had probably not helped.

He looked up, planning on throwing San his most disappointed glare but his boyfriend was facing Jongho and from their younger friend's expression, it seemed like San was the one glaring right now.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jongho sighed, biting into his nectarine again. “I’m actually protecting him.”

San didn’t move, so Wooyoung did. He put a hand on San’s shoulder, gently tugging so his boyfriend would stop trying to murder their adorable friend with his eyes.

“He saw me naked plenty of times San, it’s no big deal.”

It was true. Jongho and Wooyoung had been sharing an apartment for more than three years now, and Wooyoung wasn’t the type to hide in his own home. He would get out of the shower without anything on because he was used to forgetting his clothes – or towels – and Jongho had learned to deal with it. They had known each other for so long no one cared anymore. Not even San.

Today seemed to be the exception though, because now San was pouting, glare replaced by a hesitant frown.

“Still…” he mumbled, and Jongho chose this moment to smirk and wiggle his eyebrows.

San rushed forward but Wooyoung grabbed him just in time, arms thrown around his small waist. He brought him toward his chest and kept him there, pressing his chin on top of San’s shoulder.

“Don’t provoke him,” Wooyoung laughed, rolling his eyes. “You guys are literal kids.”

His words were proven correct when Jongho stuck out his tongue and San gave their friend the finger. It only made Jongho laugh and San groaned in frustration, but before he could wiggle out of Wooyoung’s grasp and start wrestling with their friend – it happened often – Seonghwa and Hongjoong came back from their walk, wide smiles on their faces.

San sulked, leaning back against Wooyoung’s chest.

Jongho snickered.

–––

Boredom hit Wooyoung slower than he had expected, but once it was there, he knew he couldn’t stay seated any longer.

His friends were still playing volleyball in the distance and they were hours away from dinner, so Wooyoung discretely asked Seonghwa if he could watch San’s bag – a question that was easily answered by a soft smile and a nod from the older – and grabbed his boyfriend’s hand. He knew San wouldn’t mind being dragged away from Jongho for a little while, and the two had started bickering again, playing with Wooyoung’s patience, so taking San with him was for the better.

They waved at their three friends and left their nestle of blankets hand in hand, choosing to walk away from the volleyball net to avoid being disturbed by the noisy people they called friends and not have to hop over the puddle from earlier either. Heading toward the forest would also guarantee them some privacy. The further away from the path, the better.

“Oh. Sannie, look !”

Wooyoung let go of San’s hand, attention caught by a big tree at the edge of the forest. A swing was attached to one of its largest ji branches, the seat made of a simple wooden board. Wooyoung giggled as he trotted toward his discovery, not bothering to turn around to check if San was still following. Once close enough, he noticed a small sign nailed to the trunk, the word ‘SAFE’ written in big red letters.

Wooyoung tested the strings anyway, just to be sure, pulling on it and looking at the branch holding them, then checking the wooden board… It did look safe, or safe enough. Wooyoung’s smile grew wider and he turned around, about to take a seat when a violent gust of wind made the whole forest sing next to him, and Wooyoung was forced to close his eyes at the impact. He felt the coldness hitting his back, his hair flying, and took a bit too long to register his skirt was floating along with the wind, way too high in front of him. He tentatively opened his eyes and gasped, only to burst out laughing the next second as he tried to keep his skirt down.

The wind subsided and the skirt went back down on its own, tickling the upper part of his knees and brushing his thighs again. Wooyoung was still smiling when he looked up, about to ask if San had witnessed the scene but he froze when their eyes met.

He didn’t have time to think and any questioning word died in his throat because he was suddenly brought flushed against San, two hands strongly gripping his waist, familiar lips crashing against his own. Wooyoung’s yelp of surprise ended up muffled and his heart fluttered, but he managed to take a hold of himself quickly enough and closed his eyes, melting into the embrace and trying to give as much as he was receiving.

When San broke their kiss to breathe, they were both panting, lips red and glistening.

“You’re so damn pretty Wooyoung,” San murmured, one hand leaving Wooyoung’s waist to find his cheek instead, his thumb brushing along Wooyoung’s bottom lip. “I thought you were some kind of deity for a moment, controlling the wind and all…”

Wooyoung scoffed, pushing San’s chest with no will to hurt, and choosing to keep his palms pressed there when his boyfriend didn’t move away.

“You’re such a sap. Just kiss me if you’re going to keep talking nonsense.”

San gave him a cocky grin, but he seemed to be done talking. He stole Wooyoung one last kiss before he eventually detached their bodies and walked around the swing.

“Come here, I’ll push.”

Wooyoung’s smile widened without him even noticing. It was silly, really, how giddy he felt at the simple thought of being pushed on a swing again. He had stopped playing it years ago and was always happy seeing kids having fun when he crossed the park near his apartment, enjoying their youth and the playgrounds made for them. He wasn’t a kid anymore. He couldn’t look at life without worrying about the future, couldn’t wake up without a pang of anxiety anymore. He couldn’t go on the swings, couldn’t shout at the top of his lungs, couldn’t roll around on some muddy ground and go back to his mom with a giant grin. And it was fine. There was a time for everything and playing on the swings belonged to his childhood years.

But this swing was there, higher than the ones settled in the playground, hidden in the middle of nowhere, away from any judgmental gazes or undesired company. San was there too, holding the strings and patiently waiting for Wooyoung to make a move.

So Wooyoung did.

Heart fluttering with a mixture of thrill and nostalgia, he took a seat on the swing and curled his fingers around the strings. San tugged on it, looking up just like Wooyoung had done a couple of minutes ago, the branch still as strong despite the additional weight.

“Okay,” San said behind him. “Ready ?”

Wooyoung nodded vigorously, legs already swaying in the air. He heard San chuckling, then felt him pulling on the string as he took a step back, and another, and one more… He let go and pushed Wooyoung’s back once, and Wooyoung yelled when he was thrown into the air, then giggled when the wind slapped his face. He was thrown back toward San who pushed him again, and again, and again until Wooyoung was scared he would fly above the branch but having too much fun to really care. He could see his skirt floating along with him and thought today truly had been the best day to wear it.

After some more minutes of laughing and flying, San stopped pushing and Wooyoung stopped swinging, then San’s hands were on his back again to slow him down, careful not to do it too brutally as he brought the swing to a stop. Before Wooyoung could get off, he slid his arms around Wooyoung’s shoulders and leaned down to kiss the top of his head. Wooyoung instantly closed his eyes and leaned backward until his back was pressed against San’s warm body.

“Was it fun ?” San murmured, his lips brushing the tip of Wooyoung’s ear.

Wooyoung simply hummed, not feeling like using words and choosing to focus on San’s lips instead, moving against his temple, kissing his cheek, his jaw, playing with the skin of his neck…

“Dance with me,” San whispered.

Wooyoung’s eyes opened again and he sat up to turn and look at San, confused.

“Huh ?”

“The skirt,” San explained, letting go of Wooyoung and taking a step backward so he could get out of the swing freely. There was a hint of amusement in his voice. “Does it swirl prettily ?”

“Oh,” was Wooyoung’s coherent answer. He blushed, finally standing up and walking around the swing to join San on the other side. “Yes. It does.”

“Show me ?”

San held out his hand, palm up, the other one now in his back. He slightly bowed, a beautiful smile on his lips, something shining in his eyes.

And Wooyoung was just a man, and madly in love. He would never be able to turn San down.

He smiled back and placed his hand on top of San’s, ignoring the butterflies swirling in his stomach when San’s smile turned soft, his pretty eyes looking at Wooyoung as if he was the most beautiful thing he had seen in his life. Wooyoung let himself be held, his chest soon meeting San’s and slowly, they started dancing, one foot after the other.

It was nice, dancing. Wooyoung loved it. He loved it even more when he could be with San, holding his hand, swaying with him. It made life ten times better, for a little while.

San held his hand in the air and gently prompted him to swirl, so Wooyoung did. The skirt flew around his legs, floating for a few seconds before it fell back. San stared at his legs in awe, mouth wide open and expression conflicted. So Wooyoung turned again. And again. And again, and soon he was laughing loudly and begging San to stop asking him to do it again because he was starting to feel dizzy. San was laughing too, but he agreed and let go of Wooyoung’s hand to put both of his on his hips instead, leading Wooyoung into a slow dance while their laughs subsided. Wooyoung’s arms were around San’s neck now, their foreheads pressed together.

“I love you,” Wooyoung whispered, eyeing San’s lips and wetting his own, but set on not giving in to temptation yet.

“I love you too,” San answered, just as quiet.

They stared at each other for a bit, neither of them wanting to be the first one to give in. San raised an eyebrow, and somehow, that was enough for Wooyoung to lose. He closed his eyes and caught San’s lips, heart flipping when his boyfriend’s smiled in the kiss, chest warm when San’s hands stroked the naked part of his back.

–––

The sun was long gone by the time Seonghwa and Hongjoong bid them goodbye and left the group with most of their picnic supplies.

The rest of them had decided to stay outside a bit longer, enjoying each other’s company and sharing stories that felt more intimate now that the light of the sun was gone. The path was still lit by street lights, the orange glow not enough to reach their blankets, but welcomed for the time they would decide to go home.

For the time being, they settled on two phones placed in the middle of their circle as their main source of light, and while it managed to bring all the mosquitoes of the country there, it was perfect to lighten their faces without having to blind each other.

Wooyoung hadn't planned on staying there for so long and had briefly regretted his light outfit, just for a second, when a gush of cold wind had made him violently shiver. The discomfort didn't last long though, because Mingi had quickly wrapped him in his own jacket, then his legs had been covered by Yunho’s hoodie, and the warmth was back – both outside and inside, filling Wooyoung’s chest.

After moving from lap to lap, staying on Mingi’s for at least one hour before his friend complained about having pins and needles in his legs, Wooyoung found himself nestled against Yeosang while Jongho counted some sort of horror story next to him. San was sitting in front of them, cross-legged and elbows on his knees, visibly engrossed in whatever Jongho was saying.

Wooyoung had tuned the story out after a few minutes, his mind too tired to try and keep up, but also too content to really shut down.

It had been a great day.

It had started with loads of panic and too many self-deprecating thoughts, but it had unfolded in the best way Wooyoung could have hoped and he would need to thank Hongjoong a million times for his help and support. His friends too, for being so amazing.

And San. For making him feel so loved.

Wooyoung smiled to himself, recalling the moments they had shared today. San had no doubt panicked when he had seen the skirt for the first time, but he hadn’t acted any differently during the day. Granted, he had stared at his legs way more often than usual, and maybe he had been slightly more possessive, but overall, he hadn’t treated him differently. None of his friends did, and Wooyoung was glad. He didn’t want something as mundane as clothes to change how his friends would perceive him or act around him, but he guessed he should have known better.

As cheesy as it sounded, he really had the best friends in the entire world.

–––

They decided to walk back home. It was late, way too late, or maybe early was the proper word to use. Wooyoung was supposed to rush back to his apartment and sleep as soon as possible, he worked early the next morning, but despite the annoying voices reminding him he needed at least six hours of sleep to function properly and was already missing two, he didn’t want to leave San just yet. So when their friends waved goodbye and left to take the subway, Wooyoung linked his hand with San's and together, they started walking in the opposite direction.

The air was colder now, but walking made things slightly better and San had given him his jacket as soon as Wooyoung had returned the previously borrowed clothes to his friends. Both San and Wooyoung knew the jacket wouldn’t return to its rightful owner anytime soon, but Wooyoung also knew San didn’t mind. In fact, he was positive San was delighted to see him in his jacket. He had never hidden how much he liked when Wooyoung walked around in his clothes, so borrowing them forever was probably fine too.

They walked in silence the whole way back to Wooyoung’s apartment, hands swinging between them while San hummed a song Wooyoung didn’t recognize. They didn’t cross paths with a soul during their walk which was rather pleasant, although Wooyoung felt comfortable enough in his skirt now to not care about strangers’ gazes. At least not tonight, not after the amazing day he had spent.

Wooyoung turned his head to look at his boyfriend, but San was already busy staring at his legs. Wooyoung coughed, amused, and San seemed to snap back from his thoughts, his eyes growing comically wide when he met Wooyoung’s. He quickly looked away, no doubt flushing red – Wooyoung was slightly disappointed he couldn’t see it, the street lights too dim for his liking.

“It’s okay,” Wooyoung murmured, squeezing San’s hand. San squeezed back, a timid smile on his lips.

They reached Wooyoung's apartment after twenty minutes of walking. Jongho was probably already home, either in the shower or passed out in his bed. He could also be waiting for Wooyoung on the couch though. He had done it a lot in the past, when Wooyoung came home late at night, usually crying or too drunk to function properly. But Wooyoung had stopped coming home crying or drunk, and San was always there to bring him back, so Jongho didn’t bother as much anymore. He knew Wooyoung was in good hands now.

San insisted on escorting Wooyoung to his door and Wooyoung rolled his eyes but agreed anyway, pushing San into the elevator. They had made out a lot there in the past, missing their floor more often than not or traumatizing some of Wooyoung’s neighbors by accident. An empty elevator was always tempting but tonight, Wooyoung felt content simply putting his arms around San’s small waist and pressing his face in the crook of his neck. San seemed to get the message and reciprocated the hug, one hand sliding under his jacket to meet the exposed skin on Wooyoung’s back, the other disappearing into his hair.

Hongjoong’s work was already ruined anyway. Wooyoung’s hair had become a wild mess at some point during the afternoon, near the swing, when an innocent kiss had turned a tad more intense. Wooyoung could feel his hair brushing against the back of his neck and falling on his forehead, and he knew neither the braids, Yeosang's daisies nor the ponytail had survived San’s adventurous fingers. With a fond smile, Wooyoung recalled that San was the one currently keeping the hair tie around his wrist and for some reason, it made Wooyoung shiver in happiness. San took it as Wooyoung feeling cold and pressed his hand against Wooyoung’s back to bring him closer and give him more warmth. Wooyoung was not going to complain.

Once out of the elevator and in front of Wooyoung’s door, San gave him his phone, wallet and keys back, which Wooyoung hastened to put in the pockets of his – San’s – jacket.

Then there was silence.

Wooyoung was facing San, his back leaning against the door. They stared at each other for a little while, simply smiling, simply enjoying the other’s presence. Then San cupped Wooyoung’s face and they kissed, then kissed, and kissed again. It was sloppy, passionate, probably too much for a goodnight kiss in the middle of the hallway, but none of them cared enough to slow it down. Wooyoung’s hands were in San’s hair, his body was trapped between San’s and the door, and everything felt too good to stop.

They needed to though. Reluctantly, Wooyoung pressed one last kiss to the corner of San’s lips and smiled sheepishly when San tried to kiss him again.

“I can’t invite you over tonight, I’m sorry,” Wooyoung murmured, finally thinking about his neighbors’ well-being.

San shook his head, a small grin lingering on his red-tinted lips.

“I know. You need to wake up early tomorrow and I wouldn’t want to distract you or steal some of your precious hours of beauty sleep.”

“I could let you in and simply cuddle you to sleep if you knew how to keep your damn hands to yourself when you’re supposed to,” Wooyoung scowled with a bit more vehemence than he had planned, punching San’s chest once, then twice when San dared to laugh.

“I’ll work on that, I promise.”

He continued to smile while Wooyoung kept his frown, but San’s eyes were glistening, the hand stroking the exposed skin of his back and playing with the edge of his top under the jacket was distracting, and soon Wooyoung’s face was splitting into a smile too. San was just too powerful. They stared at each other for another moment of silence, long seconds, maybe minutes, until San’s gaze fell.

“The skirt…” he started, the hand on Wooyoung’s cheek moving down to stroke his stomach, only to end with the other one in his back. “I told you already, but it looks really good on you.”

Wooyoung feigned a pout. “You’re not just saying that to make me happy ?”

“I could.” San smiled, and leaned in to kiss the pout away. “But no, I’m saying it truthfully. You’re pretty. You’re always pretty, mind you, but this is a different kind of pretty. I love your make-up too, and the thing you did with your hair ? It was cute.”

Wooyoung flushed red at San’s compliments.

His boyfriend had noticed everything. San had been looking at him all day, really looking at him, not just because he was pretty or had exposed his legs to the world for a day… Wooyoung’s exes had never noticed the details. They had always seen the naked skin, the skinny jeans, the see-through shirts, but anyone would notice that. They had never asked if he was comfortable during a party he didn’t want to go to, never cared about the work he would put into his make-up or outfit to surprise them.

But San, San always made him feel special. San always knew, always noticed. San looked at Wooyoung with his heart, he looked at him to learn, to understand, to treat him as best as he could. San cared. He respected Wooyoung and didn’t see him as just some pretty and popular boy.

San saw him as Wooyoung.

“Fuck you,” Wooyoung blurted out, his voice cracking on the first word and definitely wavering, the wetness in his eyes easily noticeable. He buried his face in San’s neck and brought him close, way too close for comfort but he didn’t care. He had too much love to give to this man, too much affection suddenly spilling out of his heart.

San didn’t say anything, but he stopped stroking Wooyoung’s back to embrace him instead, reciprocating the hug.

“I love you,” he whispered, and Wooyoung squeezed harder.

By the time they let go of each other, Wooyoung’s eyes were dry, and his heart had stopped hammering against his chest.

“You should go home now,” San said, smiling.

Wooyoung nodded, sliding his hands into the pocket of his jacket to keep himself from reaching out and bringing him into a kiss again. Saying goodbye had always been a difficult task, even before they had started dating. He really needed to get some sleep though, and they both knew it. San took a step back and Wooyoung took out his keys.

“Good night, baby bread.”

“Don’t call me that,” Wooyoung groaned, but he was smiling.

He unlocked his door and stepped inside his apartment before he could change his mind. Then, and only then, he turned to look at San again.

“Text me once you’re home, okay ?”

“Sure. Don’t forget to remove your make-up before going to bed.”

He wished Wooyoung goodnight again, offered him one last beautiful smile, then the door was closed and Wooyoung pressed his back against it, letting himself slide until he hit the ground. His skirt fell against his thighs like it had done when Jongho had interrupted his moment with San this afternoon, but he didn’t care this time. He was alone, smiling like an idiot, one hand on his cheek, the other on his knee. He chuckled, chest warm.

This would be marked as one of the best days of his life.

It didn't rain, the picnic was a success, his friends were amazing, he had spent the day kissing the love of his life, he wore a skirt.

He wore a skirt.

He abruptly stood up and turned round, watching the skirt swirl. He laughed and turned again. And again. He would really need to thank Hongjoong, buy him ten dinners or something. And he would need to buy another skirt too, maybe a shorter one, or a long one like Yeosang’s sister liked to wear, a light one with lace and–

“Stop giggling in the hallway, you’re freaking me out !”

The door of Jongho’s bedroom slammed shut and Wooyoung stilled for a moment, skirt still moving after he had stopped swirling. He stayed silent for a bit… and burst out laughing. 

Jongho’s groan resonated in the apartment, and they ended up sleeping tangled together on the couch after an impromptu pillow fight.