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It all starts when they’re filming their third appearance on Weekly Idol. San generally loves variety shows, the games and antics and dancing, and the show is going well—Hongjoong and Seonghwa have a funny little jealousy segment together, and Mingi does his crow impression yet again—and then they make San reenact his audition video. Which is fine! It’s really fine. It had been a real source of insecurity in the first year or so following debut, but San knows he’s a great dancer now, knows that the jokes and laughter come from the shock value of finding out that someone as good as performing as him couldn’t dance, no, really, could not dance, before auditioning. And the rap thing is honestly just funny, no matter which way you look at it.
So it’s fine, it’s good, it gets lots of laughs from the hosts. But Wooyoung says something as San sits back down, like, It’s a miracle! and laughs, and that does sting a little. Because it wasn’t a miracle. It was hard work, and blood and sweat and tears, and San turning up twenty minutes early for every dance lesson, getting up off the floor after hours of practising to say one more time, determined that he wasn’t going to let the rest of them down, wasn’t going to be known as that one ATEEZ member who can’t dance.
And yeah, it hurts a bit to hear Wooyoung of all people laugh it off as miraculous. Because as hard as San has worked for the other members and for ATINY, really there’s only ever been one of them that he’s wanted to impress.
When San had seen Wooyoung for the first time, dancing to EXO’s Growl in the practice studio back in 2017, it had stopped him in his tracks. San had been training for months, but his focus had been almost entirely on his voice. He hadn’t given much consideration to dancing at all, beyond being good enough to keep up with the other members. He’d always thought of it as something that required power and strength. He hadn’t known it could look like… what Wooyoung looked like, all languid precision and controlled sensuality. He hadn’t known that dancing could be a way to make people want you.
In an instant, San’s fate had changed paths. From that moment onwards, he’d thrown himself into performance, practising until his legs couldn’t move, watching and rewatching videos of himself until he was sick of his own face. When he’d felt tired, when he’d felt discouraged, he would think back to the first time he’d seen Wooyoung and remind himself: All I want to do is be good enough to dance like him someday.
And the first time after a dance practice when Wooyoung had looked at San with genuine approval and said, “You looked good,” it had filled San up with a warmth like honey, spreading right through his body. All the way from his toes to the tips of his fingers.
If San thinks about it, really thinks about it, well. He’s probably been chasing that feeling ever since.
—
In the car home, San’s mind is still on dancing and those early days at KQ, which is why he doesn’t notice Wooyoung unbuckling his seatbelt and moving to the seat right in the middle, until he throws his leg right over San’s lap.
“Oh,” San says. He glances into the backseat—Jongho is watching Jungkook fancams on his phone and Yeosang is doing his usual post-talking-to-people detox: headphones in and eye mask on—leaving San as Wooyoung’s only victim.
“San-ah, San-ah, San-ah,” Wooyoung croons until San looks down at him. Because it’s Wooyoung, he doesn’t ask Are you okay? or What are you thinking about? but when he snuggles his way into San’s side, San knows it’s what he means.
“I’m fine, just thinking,” he says and tugs Wooyoung closer, pretending to bite his hair. Wooyoung laughs and says, “Are you mad because I said your dancing was a miracle? Don’t be mad,” and presses kisses to the side of San’s face, intertwining their fingers.
It’s nice. It’s normal. So why does San feel strange when he says, “Obviously I’m not mad at you,” like he’s lying? He really isn’t mad. He just feels… off.
He pushes down the feeling and tickles Wooyoung instead, making him screech loud enough for San to forget his weird thoughts for the moment.
—
When their car gets back to the house, they all scatter—it’s late, and after a packed day everyone needs their alone time. Well, the other members do, anyway. Everybody knows that San gets lonely when he’s by himself, so someone’s usually on San Duty. Someone being Wooyoung more often than not, and he turns around as they climb the stairs and says, “Wanna watch a movie together, San?”
For some reason, the weird feeling from the car is lingering. San doesn’t want to be alone but, strangely, he also doesn’t want to be alone with Wooyoung.
San says, “No, it’s okay, I’m gonna play games with Yunho,” feeling bad as he does so for lying.
But Wooyoung just shrugs and says, “Okay, sure,” unbothered. He blows San a kiss and heads to his room.
San pushes open the door of his and Yunho’s room, expecting to find Yunho, but the room is dark and empty. He almost texts Yunho but figures that maybe some real alone time will be good for him, help him shake off that strange feeling.
—
Alone time is not good for San. Anything he tries feels wrong to do by himself—playing Overwatch without Yunho laughing along in his earpiece, watching Naruto without Wooyoung lying over his legs and offering constant commentary. He even tries reading for a few minutes, before throwing the book aside in frustration.
He should really go to Wooyoung’s room. The fact that he keeps thinking that and not going is making him feel miserable and wrong inside. He doesn’t know what to do about it. What if this feeling persists and makes things weird between them? San never makes things weird, not when other people are involved. He’s the person who gets on with everyone, who can always smooth a situation out. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.
I should talk to Hongjoong, San decides. Yeah. Hongjoong is good with words, and he’s always telling the members to come to him if there’s ever anything on their minds. He’ll help San figure out whatever is going on.
San pulls on a hoodie and trots off to Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s room. He raps on the door lightly. There’s a banging sound followed by a scuffling noise, like someone has dropped something and then quickly crossed the room and hopped into bed.
“Come in,” Seonghwa’s voice calls. San opens the door to find him attempting an impression of someone who wasn’t just lint rolling the floor to within an inch of its life, and failing horribly.
“Is Hongjoong-hyung around?” San asks. He picks up the lint roller from the floor and sets it on the bedside table.
“He went to the studio to work,” Seonghwa says, eyes flicking to the lint roller and then to where San is no doubt tracking in thousands of bits of fluff and dust all over the clean floor. You can almost see his fingers twitching. “Want me to call him?”
“No, it’s okay,” San says. He turns to go, then turns back. “Um. Actually, can I stay here with you? If you’re not busy.”
Seonghwa looks longingly at the lint roller again but obligingly says, “Yeah, of course,” and swings his legs to the side so that San can lie down and pillow his head on Seonghwa’s thigh. Seonghwa strokes absently through his hair. It feels nice. San thinks that he doesn’t actually need to talk about it, after all. He was probably just feeling tired earlier. Nothing to worry about.
“You okay, Sannie?” Seonghwa says, and San decides abruptly that he does want to talk about it.
He says, “I’ve been feeling kind of weird, actually…”
Seonghwa looks down at him with his best Big Concerned Mom Eyes. “Was it the interview? Sannie, please don’t feel bad about that. We know how hard you work, and how much effort and time you put into dancing. It’s just teasing, okay? It’s only funny because you’re so flawless at performing now. Don’t take it to heart. We’re all so proud of you.”
San really hadn’t been feeling bad about the San Couldn’t Dance joke, but Seonghwa complimenting him still makes him happy. He sits up and hugs Seonghwa properly, settling back into the curve of his arm.
“Thanks, hyung. But it’s not really about that.” He describes, as best he can, the feeling that had come over him when Wooyoung had held his hand and kissed his cheek.
San expects Seonghwa to say, But you and Wooyoung do that all the time and it never bothers you, or something. Instead, he says, “I’m sorry it made you feel strange. Do you want me to talk to him?” He pauses, then amends, “Do you want me to ask Hongjoong to talk to him?”
“No, no,” San says. “It’s not… I don’t mind it. I like it. I just felt weird. Sorry, I know I’m not making sense.”
“It’s okay,” Seonghwa says. “Sometimes feelings don’t make sense. But you can always talk to me, and we can try and figure them out.” He pauses for so long that San thinks they’re done talking, but then he glances over at Hongjoong’s empty bed and asks, quietly, “Do you think that maybe… maybe you want it to be real, the way Wooyoung is with you when you’re joking around?”
“Oh,” San says, at a loss. He touches his lips involuntarily. “I… I don’t know.”
“It’s okay,” Seonghwa says quickly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to… maybe I’m just projecting.”
“No, it’s been helpful talking to you,” San says, and means it. But to really answer that question, he knows he needs to actually think about it. Properly, and alone. “Can we be done with feelings for today, though?”
Seonghwa smiles at him and says, “As long as you’re feeling alright. Hey, I saw this TikTok dance earlier, do you want to do a video of it with me tomorrow?”
San, recognising that he’s being indulged—usually it’s him who has to bully Seonghwa into doing dance challenges with him rather than the other way around—but enjoying it anyway, snuggles into Seonghwa’s side and says, “Yeah, of course. Show it to me.”
—
Later, in his room, with Yunho breathing peacefully beneath him, San tosses and turns and thinks about Seonghwa’s question.
Does he want it to be real? The flirting, the teasing, the hugs. Wooyoung’s hand holding the back of San’s neck, or touching his chest, or gripping his thigh, or interlacing their fingers—Wooyoung’s hands everywhere, to be honest. The kisses.
It seems silly, but San’s never questioned any of it before. This whole time, ever since he first saw Wooyoung, all San has wanted is to be closer to him. In every way. Being around Wooyoung makes him so happy.
But if he actually thinks about how he feels… whether he wants it to be real… it’s all very overwhelming. And scary.
San takes a deep breath. When Mingi had taken his break, the managers had sat them all down and asked them to consider seeing a therapist, even if they felt like they didn’t need one. Just to talk through anything that was on their mind.
San had never, not once in his life, considered seeing a counsellor. He’s always had his parents to talk to, to help him work through his insecurities and worries and fears. Still, after seeing how hard everything had been for Mingi, right before the break, he felt like he should at least try it. He wanted to stay strong for the other members, and especially for Mingi.
He’d gone to counselling for a few months, and had been surprised by how helpful talking to the therapist was. He hadn’t needed to worry about being a burden on her, or worry about taking up her time, or about how his feelings were impacting her. He had struggled at first, trying to articulate how he felt to someone who didn’t know him, answering the questions she would ask; when that happened, the therapist would say, Okay, let’s try thinking of a different question first, and see if it’s easier to answer that. Sometimes all you need to do is reframe things in your mind.
So San thinks of a different question. Does he love Wooyoung? Of course, his mind supplies instantly. He shakes his head. No, that’s not what he needs to ask.
Does he love Wooyoung in a different way to the way he loves the other members?
Maybe. He thinks Wooyoung is perfect. Funny and mischievous and sweet and silly. Sexy and charming and a born performer. Hard-working, persistent. Caring and warm and open. Someone who will tease San relentlessly all day and then grill him steak for dinner just because. Being around him has made San blossom; even his parents have noticed it. The last time he’d called home, his dad had told him, I’m glad you met Wooyoung, San. He hadn’t explained, and San hadn’t needed him to. Wooyoung makes him feel special. Absent-mindedly, San reaches down to touch his tattoo, proof of how important they are to one another, of how much they need each other.
And of course he thinks Wooyoung is attractive. Who doesn’t? Of course he’d want to kiss Wooyoung for real, if he could.
Bam. There it is. It feels like a sneak attack, the way the thought steals into his mind and refuses to leave. He wants to kiss Wooyoung, and slip his hand into Wooyoung’s back pocket, and hold him at night, and make sure he’s happy every single day of his life. San’s stomach flips over just thinking about the possibilities.
So he has his answer. He does want it to be real with Wooyoung. More than that, San realises: he’s in love with Wooyoung.
—
Well.
—
San’s first reaction is sheer excitement. Who can blame him? Love is exciting! He loves love! And he’s in love with Wooyoung, his best friend! Life is great! He sits up, ready to climb down into Yunho’s bed and tell him all about it.
On the bottom bunk, Yunho murmurs in his sleep and rolls over, and in that moment the misgivings flood in. San slides back down under the covers and thinks.
What if Wooyoung isn’t in love with him back? What if life isn’t great and San’s feelings mess up their friendship and, by extension, their band?
The thing is, if San and Wooyoung were normal best friends living normal lives, it would be exciting. But they’re not normal. They’re part of ATEEZ. And San doesn’t want to risk—can’t risk—upsetting the balance and chemistry between all the members. ATEEZ is the thing that means most to him in the world. And to Wooyoung. Wooyoung has worked so hard and sacrificed so much and done everything that’s been asked of him and more. He hides it well, how much this all means to him, but sometimes the cracks show through. Like when they’d had their first win and he’d broken down on stage, and later that night he’d crawled into San’s bed and cried more and whispered, I can’t believe it, San, I never thought this would happen, I’m so happy, I’m so so happy. And San had kissed his tear-swollen eyelids and held him until they’d both fallen asleep.
In retrospect, San thinks, that was pretty damn gay.
Focus, San.
San sighs and burritos himself further into the covers. He doesn’t want to keep his feelings a secret. San hates secrets. But he has to be careful; this isn’t a feeling like being happy or excited where his first instinct is always to go up to the nearest person and tell them. He should give it some time, sit with his feelings. Really think about whether he should speak to Wooyoung—and if he does, take time to consider what he wants to say. That’s the sensible, mature thing to do.
—
The thing about San is that he can’t keep a single thing to himself: his face says it all. He’s got better at the whole controlling his facial expressions thing since becoming an idol and having to be filmed pretty much every second of the day, but he’s well aware that he is still pretty terrible at concealing his feelings. Especially around Jung Wooyoung.
So San knows he needs to somehow keep a lid on it, unless he wants everyone to take one look at his face and realise that he’s in love with Wooyoung. Which means either avoiding Wooyoung or hoping that everyone else is too busy doing whatever’s on their schedule to pay much attention to San—he remembers when they’d rewatched that episode of Fever Road where he’d been the spy and everyone had cracked up at how they’d been too preoccupied with the game to realise that San was visibly losing his mind over his secret missions.
San opens his phone and checks their schedule for the next day, heart sinking when he realises it’s a photoshoot day, meaning that everyone is going to spend most of the day bored as hell. Avoiding Wooyoung it is. Not forever, he reassures himself. Just for a day or two, until being in love with Wooyoung isn’t the first and foremost thing on San’s mind. It shouldn’t be too difficult.
—
What was San thinking? Avoiding Wooyoung is impossible and also like torture. Halfway through the day, San is pretty sure that he’s incapable of thinking about anything that isn’t how in love with Wooyoung he is. It was much easier to pretend that was a reasonable option when Wooyoung wasn’t right there in front of him, beautiful and pouty and following San around everywhere, demanding to know why he won’t play with him.
After this happens for approximately the six millionth time, complete with Wooyoung throwing himself across San’s lap, San casts a pleading gaze over Wooyoung’s prone body at Seonghwa, who immediately kicks into action. He comes over, vlog camera in hand, and masterfully distracts Wooyoung until they have to take another photo.
The photos are also mildly torturous, because of course the staff insist on placing Wooyoung and San next to each other. San tries to keep his hands to himself but muscle memory takes over—he can’t help but pull Wooyoung closer, throw an arm around his shoulders, press their cheeks together.
It’s just hard, knowing what he knows now. Knowing what he wants. Seeing what he wants, right there in front of him, all tan skin and easy laughter and big beautiful eyes, posing for the camera, charming the staff, snuggling up to Seonghwa on the couch. San doesn’t know how he ever managed to take his eyes off Wooyoung before.
—
Later that evening, San and Yunho are hanging out, chatting idly and playing League of Legends, when someone enters their room without knocking.
“Hey, Yunho?” Wooyoung says. “Mingi’s asking for you, I think he’s having a bad evening—”
He’s hardly finished his sentence, but Yunho is already vaulting out of his chair, ripping his headphones off and running out of the door. Wooyoung watches him go and then closes the door behind him.
“Is Mingi okay?” San asks, concerned. Mingi has been a lot better, generally, since he came back, but San still worries.
“Hm? Oh, yeah, I lied,” Wooyoung says, totally unrepentant. “I don’t even know where Mingi is.”
He climbs up the ladder and flops down on San’s bed.
“Wooyoung-ah! Why would you lie about something like that?”
Wooyoung dangles a hand down and flaps it to gesture San closer. San gets up from the computer and comes over, like a moth to a flame, a fish hooked on a line, a thousand stupid metaphors. Or are they similes? Whatever. The point is that San is a lovesick dumbass and utterly powerless to resist Wooyoung lying in his bed.
When San gets close enough, Wooyoung ruffles his hair through the slats of the bed and says, “Because I’ve hardly seen you all day! And I wanted alone time with my Sannie! Anyway, Mingi’s probably got something on his mind that he could do with talking to Yunho about.”
Knowing Mingi, this is undoubtedly accurate, so San doesn’t argue.
“Do you want to, um, go live or something?” he asks desperately.
“No, I want to hang out, just you and me,” Wooyoung says in his cutesy voice. He tugs lightly at San’s hair. “Don’t you want to hang out with me? Why are you just standing there? Come up here. I’ll tell your dad you’re being mean to me.”
Faced with this onslaught, San really has no choice. He climbs the ladder and flops down right on top of Wooyoung, who huffs out a laugh and wriggles beneath him.
“Hey, get off! You’re heavy!”
San lets himself go limp and boneless. “You’re the one who invited me up here, Jung Wooyoung. Deal with it.”
“Ughhhhh,” says Wooyoung. Then he pauses, and—San realises what’s coming, but not fast enough to stop it—starts tickling San relentlessly.
“Ahhh!” San chokes out, curling into a ball and trying to fend off Wooyoung’s attacks. Somehow he gets a hold of Wooyoung’s arm and starts tickling him back, and then they’re rolling around in the bed, making it shake.
“I win, I win, I win!” Wooyoung shrieks, sitting firmly on San’s thighs and pinning his arms to his sides. He’s breathing heavily. San looks up at him. It’s dark, the only light coming from San’s screensaver on his computer across the room. The blue light plays across Wooyoung’s face; highlighting the straight sweep of his nose, the freckle on his cheekbone, the fullness of his mouth. His hair is soft and still a little curly from the photoshoot styling, falling over his forehead. He’s always so lovely to look at, but something about the light and shadow makes him particularly beautiful in this moment. Particularly kissable, maybe.
Oblivious to San’s thoughts, Wooyoung is chattering away. “We nearly broke your bed there! Man, it was way easier to wrestle you into submission when you were still all skinny and cute.”
San pouts. “You mean you don’t think I’m cute now?”
Wooyoung laughs and releases one of San’s hands to brush San’s hair back from his face. “Look at you, always so desperate to be complimented.” He leans down and kisses San’s forehead. “Of course I still think you’re cute. My cute Sannie. Now, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you or do I have to tickle you again?”
San doesn’t say anything. He’s not sure he can. When Wooyoung had leaned down, for a second San had thought, is he going to— and now his brain feels like it’s broken down.
Wooyoung waves a hand in front of his face. “Earth to San. San-ah. Hello?”
All of San’s careful, considered thoughts have gone completely out of the window. His heart is beating so hard in his chest, he’s sure that Wooyoung must be able to hear it as he sits up, catches Wooyoung around the waist and—holy shit—kisses him.
Wooyoung makes a surprised noise into the kiss, a quiet ah, and then—holy shit—he kisses San back. His hands come up to clutch San’s shoulders. San tilts his head, nosing along Wooyoung’s cheekbone, and Wooyoung opens his mouth slightly, and suddenly San can’t breathe. He pulls back and immediately lies back down, covering his eyes with a forearm. His other hand slides down onto Wooyoung’s thigh; he can’t quite bring himself to let go.
Fuck. What has he done?
“San-ah,” Wooyoung says. “San. Hey, look at me.”
San’s heart is still thundering in his chest. He takes a shaky breath and then looks up at Wooyoung.
Wooyoung’s eyes are big and glassy in the dim light. He’s the loudest person on Earth, but his voice is so, so quiet when he asks, “San, did you mean it?”
San gazes at him—Wooyoung, his best friend, the person he loves most in the world after his mum and dad, the person he’d got a permanent mark on his body with, the person he just kissed on the mouth—and nods. He’s not sure he can speak, but he can’t be anything but honest right now.
Wooyoung lets out a sigh. He bites his lip and asks, “Really? You—you want me like that?”
He’s still speaking quietly, almost mumbling, but San hasn’t spent years attuning himself to Wooyoung’s every mood for nothing. He’s pretty much the world expert (maybe second only to Yeosang) in Jung Wooyoung Interpretation. And the emotion in Wooyoung’s voice right now? Well, it sounds a lot like hope.
Suddenly, San finds his own voice. “Yes. Yeah. I want you in every way,” he says, and then it’s like he can’t stop talking. God, it’s such a relief to tell Wooyoung about how he feels, not to have to keep it bottled up. “For a really long time, probably since the day I met you—but I only really figured it out yesterday,” he adds at Wooyoung’s shocked look. “It’s why I was acting so weird earlier, I’m sorry, I was just trying to figure out what to do, and I didn’t mean to just kiss you like that without asking, but I have a lot of feelings and I really wanted to do it so badly, but I’m sorry I didn’t, I don’t know, ask permission first. Oh, and I love you, I guess maybe I should have led with that, but I really do—”
“San-ah,” Wooyoung interrupts. He places his hand over San’s mouth. “San, shh.” He’s laughing a little.
San licks his fingers, but Wooyoung doesn’t move his hand, so San says, muffled, “Hey, don’t laugh. Why are you laughing?”
“Honey,” Wooyoung says fondly. He strokes his knuckles along San’s cheekbone. “It’s pretty funny, that’s all: the idea that you’d ever have to ask for permission to kiss me, when I’ve been head over heels in love with you for the last four years.”
“Oh,” San says. He feels like there’s a firework going off in his chest, sparks and bursts of bright light coursing through him.
Wooyoung jabs him in the ribs, fondness evaporating in an instant. “Yeah, oh. God, you’re so dense. I’ve been throwing myself at you constantly since we met! What did you think was going on? Did you seriously think it was all just fun and games?”
“I don’t know,” San says honestly. “I think… I was just so happy to be around you. I am happy to be around you. I’ve never had a friend like you before. I didn’t think I could ask for more.”
“You… you can,” Wooyoung says, back in that soft, hesitant voice.
“Okay,” San says. He takes a deep breath and comes straight out with it. “Jung Wooyoung, I love you. Will you be my boyfriend?”
Wooyoung smiles at him, and it’s the most beautiful thing San has ever, ever seen, better than sunsets over the ocean, better than the words Your application to become a trainee at KQ Entertainment has been successful, better than a crowd of thousands screaming their name. “Choi San, I will.”
San raises an eyebrow and Wooyoung says, “What?”
“I love you,” San says. “Say it back.”
“I literally just did!” Wooyoung complains, but San puts on his best sulking face and he relents. “Fine, fine. I love you. And, San?”
“Yeah?”
“Being with you makes me so happy, too.”
Satisfied, San sits up and pulls Wooyoung into his lap properly. He cups Wooyoung’s perfect, gorgeous face in his hands, strokes his thumbs over Wooyoung’s cheekbones, over that freckle he’s going to kiss so many times, and says, softly, “I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out.”
Wooyoung closes his eyes. He says, “It’s okay. But you should probably kiss me again.”
So San does. Again, and again, until he’s sliding his hands up Wooyoung’s shirt, over all that lovely smooth skin, and Wooyoung’s gasping beneath him, legs wrapped around San’s waist, hips moving in tiny circles that are starting to drive San crazy—and the door cracks open and they hear Yunho cheerfully go, “Hey guys, dinner’s—” and then, less cheerfully, “Ohhhhh my God—”
“Get out of here, you pervert!” screams Wooyoung, sitting up and hurling one of San’s precious shiba inu plushies at Yunho with deadly accuracy.
Yunho, who has both his hands over his eyes, is decidedly not getting out of here. “Okay, but I just want to let you know that if you don’t come out in like, ten minutes, Seonghwa will definitely eat your ramyeon because he’s got that hungry glint in his eyes and we’re barely holding him back as it is. And I’m happy for you and this is honestly kind of worth me being scarred for life because I love you both very much okay bye!”
The door clicks shut, which does nothing to lessen the volume of Yunho shouting, “GUYS! Guys, guess what—” as he sprints down the corridor to the kitchen.
San covers his face with his hands and starts laughing helplessly. “Odds on all of them piling in here in the next, hmm, two minutes?”
“One hundred percent certainty,” says Wooyoung. “Bastards. Yunho’s going to dine out on that for years.”
San can’t stop laughing. He knows he should feel indignant or whatever, but he’s just so happy. He winds his arms around Wooyoung’s waist and pulls him back down until they’re face-to-face on the pillow. Wooyoung says, “Well, who cares? I’m not moving. They can come and stare like the perverted freaks they are and then Seonghwa-hyung can have all my noodles.”
San, already leaning in, says, “What noodles?”