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Eight, nine, ten, eleven… twelve? Was that a twelfth bottle behind Hongjoong’s chair?
San blinked once, hard, to clear his now blurring eyes. His attempt to count the empty bottles the team had finished in the span of several hours kept on failing; he continuously needed to recount because his mental calculation was always interrupted by how noisy the rooftop was.
The thing was that he was not even half finished when his eyes reached the twelfth bottle. San rubbed his heated face with both of his hands as he started again.
One, two, three…, three, four…,
“No, I swear it was not like that!” Mingi yelled. “ Hyung, that one time I answered your call!”
Hongjoong stood up—it was all blurry through San’s peripheral view. “Yes, you did, but that one time you literally disappeared on me! Admit it!”
Wooyoung was already dead with his cackles, excited that his two teammates decided to break into a quarrel in the middle of their new year rooftop party. “Oh, really, Hongjoong hyung? He did that?!”
“You have to be more understanding,” adding into the fuel, Yeosang muttered with a little snicker.
Mingi stood up, defending himself. “I admit! I admit! I was not checking my phone that day because—because I was busy with practice!”
“What practice!” Jongho exclaimed. “You were—”
“Guys, guys, let’s not fight—”
The fight went on for the next several minutes. Throughout the entire fit, San was silent with a lip bite, his head already buzzing with the amount of booze. His curious eyes darted around everyone, trying to get at least one conclusion from the debate, but truthfully he was nearly dozing off.
Maybe it’s because this was not a filmed dinner (which, pretty obviously, makes everyone a little more comfortable and San did not have to worry about how he looked on camera), or maybe it’s because of the cold breeze of their place’s rooftop. Either way, San’s hands were comfortably placed on the chair he’s sitting on, a half-finished bowl of fries splayed in front of him. His back were leaned against the wall separating them from the rooftop and the stair.
His face was already heating up since a while ago, as expected. Seonghwa seemed to notice since he was pointing it out from across him, gesturing to his nape and neck. But it was indeed inevitable, wasn’t it? Because even if he wanted to stop, guys, I think I had enough, Mingi just had suggested their nth drinking game of the night.
“Come on, guys,” Wooyoung added to the fuel, “The night is still young! We still have… how long again was it?”
Yunho checked his phone. “Ah, I think less than five minutes left before the firework show.”
“Huh, only five minutes more?” Wooyoung exclaimed, eyes widened in surprise. “Didn’t we start drinking at nine?”
Jongho laughed. “Yes, and we’ve also been playing for that long, so why is your energy still existent?”
Hongjoong took a sip of his soju before he replied, “Same question, you—”
“Then we should be ready for the firework show, no?” Without even waiting for another beat, Wooyoung and Mingi were the first two people to stand.
It was a messy fit of trying to drag one another to the balcony, hands entangled and drunk-driven. San, still on his chair, giggled, realizing how Hongjoong’s expression twisted and maybe their leader slightly regretted this new year dinner he planned.
“San-a, San-a! Come on!” his slow train of thoughts were interrupted by Wooyoung, standing in front of him all of a sudden. With all the slurred speech and rarely red-tinted ears, Wooyoung was obviously a little too drunk, no? San tilted his head slightly and squinted his eyes.
His drowsy gaze dragged down to Wooyoung’s shirt, checking him out. To be honest, he did not see Wooyoung a lot that day since he was booked for a shoot earlier and his best friend was at a dance practice, making the two of them only meet right before this dinner party. Therefore, he did not realize how unfitting Wooyoung’s clothing was for a cold night—a white tank top, an unbuttoned oversized shirt, and jeans.
Not warm , he drunkenly thought. San’s hands went to the shirt, buttoning one (or two?) buttons.
Unfortunately, his impulsive act of kindness was interrupted with Wooyoung’s impatient ‘eh…’ as he was forcefully pulled from his chair and dragged towards the balcony.
It did not take too long for all eight of them to gather by the balcony facing the city. Seoul looked like scattered stars from this height, especially with their blurry gaze. Tiny streets were bustling with commotions, busy with packed-up festivals all around the town. San made a mental note to at least visit one of those festivals next year or the year after. Wooyoung definitely would say yes if he asked him to.
The cold breeze against his face would probably be nice to wake him up, but he was far too comfortable to be sober now. The thing is, Wooyoung was comfortably snuggled up against his side, chin cupped and reddened eyes locked towards the horizon in front of them.
Truly, it’s a little too comfortable for him to sober up. San spared Wooyoung a glance before circling one arm around the long-haired, pulling his best friend closer to lean against him.
“Guys, guys, it’s like in seven seconds,” Seonghwa exclaimed as he peeked on Yunho’s phone. “Seven, six, five…,”
“Oh, oh, it’s coming,” Wooyoung whispered in anticipation, cold hands rubbed in front of his face. San could not help but to also wait despite freezing in the cold.
Seonghwa might have yelled the last ‘one’ loudly, but their attentions were quickly averted to giant fireworks in front of them. From multiple spots, right at the same time, firework shows started.
Baffled, Hongjoong quickly tried to take his phone out. “Damn, this is something.”
San was a little too starstruck to move. He did not even realize that his mouth was hung open, eyes locked at the sight in front of him. “So pretty,” he muttered under his breath.
He glanced at Wooyoung. The tan boy did nothing other than open his mouth and stare at the firework shows, too. It was clear that he no longer had the sobriety to properly process the show, dumbfounded (like a cat watching TV, San thought).
“Mhm,” his response was empty-headed.
After a few while (which felt like a few hours), the show toned down and the interval of the fireworks halved. Yunho was the first one to step away from the balcony, exclaiming, “We should’ve done this more often!”
“Happy new year,” Yeosang said.
“Right, it’s—it’s the new year, I don’t even remember,” Mingi covered his mouth in surprise. “Hey, guys, happy new year.”
“Happy new year,” Seonghwa slurred. “I am so glad to be able to meet—”
“Happy new year, happy new year,” Jongho exclaimed, strutting towards their dining area. “God, it’s the drunkest I’ve ever been in a while.”
Wooyoung turned around to face the rest of them, eyes glinting with excitement. “Happy new year, everyone! I—I’m so happy to—” he jumped away towards the others, pulling Yeosang into a hug and smacking his lips on Yeosang’s cheek, hard, “to celebrate with you!”
Yeosang shrieked, but he could not hold the smile that came after. “Hey, hey…”
“You, too!” he proceeded to turn towards Jongho. “Our maknae , our lovely maknae , you’re gonna grow old this year…”
“We’re practically almost the same age,” Jongho sarcastically responded when another aggressive kiss landed on the top of his head.
The Wooyoung-style greeting proceeded for a while, causing everyone to get into a little bit of a commotion with one another (and with small quarrels every once in a while). San’s head was still spinning from the flashing fireworks as he leaned against the balcony and turned around to finally face the others. They were starting to clear out the table on the rooftop, carrying plates and bottles.
“San!” spotting him, Wooyoung immediately yelled and half-ran towards him. His face lit up as he said, “You too, Sannie…!”
In his subconscious, San was expecting a heartfelt mini speech from Wooyoung as he did with the others. His eyes immediately widened in excitement as the tanned boy stepped into his personal space, throwing his arms to hug him.
“Happy new year,” San breathed out, a little restrained from the hug.
When Wooyoung cupped his cheeks, he was expecting a hard, aggressive peck on the cheek, like how his best friend has always done.
His heart stopped when Wooyoung gave him a hard peck on the lips instead.
A peck. A long fucking peck on the lips. Not on his cheek, not on his dimple, and definitely not on his forehead. Not a mere accidental brush.
The peck definitely did not last longer than ten seconds, but San felt like he froze for much longer than that.
“Happy new year, Sannie,” as if nothing had happened, Wooyoung pulled away and tightened his hug around San’s shoulders, “I’m so happy to have you!”
San’s face remained frozen other than for the alcohol flush, but his brain was immediately drenched in a train of thoughts. His head was fuzzy from the alcohol but this was definitely not something he could just dismiss. His subconscious almost gaslighted himself into thinking no, it did not happen, but Wooyoung’s lips were warm against his and he could still feel the light sting.
God, his heart was threatening to jump out of his ribs.
Did Wooyoung mean it? Was it an accident? What—what the hell just happened?
In the split second where their eyes met, San tried all his might to read behind Wooyoung’s expression. However, he was only met with a pair of eyes that crinkled into a smile before Wooyoung slipped away from his embrace.
“Oh my God, yes, hyung, I was gonna help you!” Wooyoung immediately exclaimed in frustration, responding to someone (was it Hongjoong?) who, apparently, was yelling at Wooyoung to help him clean. Hongjoong was ranting about how tomorrow morning he needed to attend the briefing from their team or something around that line as he cleaned. No idea. None of that entered San’s senses in the span of several seconds since he was… he was…
What was he doing? What happened to him? He had no idea.
San’s feet were frozen to the concrete floor and his breath was caught in his throat. If it was not for Mingi’s call threatening to make him wash all the dishes, he would still be standing there, dumbfounded.
His lips were tingling. It happened. It really happened and it was not something he hallucinated out of alcohol.
San’s chest was pounding, heartbeat loud and thrumming all over his body. One of his hands went to his heart as he carried bags of leftover foods in one hand downstairs.
No, truly, what the fuck was this? In the span of several minutes, his head felt a lot hazier than before, and it was definitely not from the soju because his body got less stumbly. When he experienced a something, he did not like to think of the experience word-by-word as it would make the thing linger a little longer and he would most probably be stuck in an overthinking loop. However, this time, as he stepped down the staircase one by one, he dissected his own brain and thoughts.
Wooyoung gave him a peck on the lips. Wooyoung, for the first time in their lifelong friendship, kissed him on the lips.
Their apartment floor spinned in front of him and in all of a sudden San felt a lot dizzier than before.
—
“Hey,” Mingi whispered through the slightly opened door, “The kids wanna play Spin the Bottle in the living room. If you’re not sleeping anytime soon, just join, yeah?”
San’s immediate hushed response echoed in the living room albeit a little croaky and small, “No, yeah, I’m not sleeping soon. Give me a second.”
Fuck, San’s still awake and he’s joining them. Wooyoung felt his stomach churn for a split second.
After all of them went back to their respective units, Mingi and Seonghwa decided to gather for a little game (which was more likely from Seonghwa’s drunken screams, “why should we end after the fireworks!”) and Wooyoung, being the him that he is, definitely could not reject.
Fiddling with his fingers that looked blurry in his sight, Wooyoung chewed on his lower lip, anxious. The thing was that he had been steadily sobering up since they all went downstairs, albeit slowly, and… and for fuck’s sake, he could not stop chanting about how stupid he was.
He was a little too drunk, but he did realize that he kissed San. Fuck, it was impulsive and accidental and unplanned and maybe, just maybe, he was truly an idiot. Truly.
San’s door creaked open and apparently Mingi has been sitting down in front of him since a while ago. No idea, Wooyoung was a little too stressed out to notice. In an instant, he made his best attempt to put out an act—he’s forcefully pushing the all-grinny, mouthy tipsy Wooyoung agenda.
Thankfully, he did not have to fake-greet San because drunk Yunho immediately yelled something along the line of “you’re so red, bro!” and “don’t be a bitch, the night is not over!”
Ah, yes. They’re literally gonna drink again. There’s a cheap bottle of Captain Morgan (which Jongho sneered at before he went to bed), but it made Wooyoung swallow nervously.
There were five of them on the floor: Yunho, Mingi, Yeosang, San, and Wooyoung. Seonghwa’s seated on the sofa behind them, intently watching the TV with the volume turned off. San, very thankfully, sat across Wooyoung. Anywhere far from his proximity is good, he thought.
“Let’s start,” Yunho muttered excitedly. “I’m gonna spin the bottle, and if it’s pointed to you, we will give you a… random question, I guess, and you gotta drink, yeah?”
“Regardless of whether I answer the question or not?” Yeosang asked.
Mingi nodded. “Yeah.The drunker the better, right?”
Wooyoung grunted under his breath. The drunker the better, indeed, if it makes him forget about how much of an idiot he was tonight. “Okay, okay, let’s start,” he quickly cut and spun the bottle.
It pointed at Mingi, who was immediately cursing about how it’s such a good start for the game. Yunho instantly bombarded him about super personal questions without even considering the other’s opinions, and it left Wooyoung cringing with his ears closed.
The game, fortunately, flowed pretty smoothly. When he was well-distracted with the presence of the other members, apparently it was easy to forget what he did and to pause the self-deprecating sessions for a little while. It’s funny, too, because the ones who were assigned to drink a lot went back to acting funny.
The bottle pointed a lot at Wooyoung, maybe caused by Yunho’s unbalanced lazy spins, and boy, was he chugging down shot glasses.
“San!” Yeosang’s exclaim echoed in his dizzy head. San’s pointed at.
It unwillingly entered his senses—San’s groan of protest. Wooyoung, despite unmoving and staring at the ground with his eyes almost closed and his arms folded in front of his chest, felt his heartbeat escalate.
“Let’s let Wooyoung ask,” giggling, Seonghwa (who was still on the sofa) nudged Wooyoung with his knee.
Put on an act, bitch, he thought to himself. Fucking put out an act.
“Mhm? Me?” Wooyoung lifted his head up, red eyes gazing at San. He was probably holding onto his own fists so hard in order to restrain himself, because fuck, he’s so nervous. San, across him, looked back at him, and there was something unreadable in his face.
Wooyoung unconsciously held his breath. Frankly, why was this affecting him so much? San’s his best friend. They literally have matching tattoos. They most definitely have kissed each other’s face, well, other than lips. So why was Wooyoung so doomed over this one little mistake?
The alcohol’s getting into his system, but he was still a little too hyper-aware to realize that he was being an idiot. Wooyoung wanted to boil his own head—effective immediately.
The unreadable expression in San’s face got washed over pretty quickly, though, as he smiled, eyes turned into crescents. “Shoot me with your question,” he challenged.
Okay. Okay. Play dumb. He inhaled, long and hard, before slurring. “‘m not gonna go easy on you.”
What? I’m not gonna go easy on you? What was he even going to ask? Wooyoung’s head is literally empty. Mouthy ass bitch, blurting out everything without even thinking first, he mentally thought.
San shrugged. “Mm.”
“I—” Wooyoung choked out. “A—”
San’s stare pierced through his head and in all of a sudden it was hard to breathe. Wooyoung’s mouth was agape, ready to spit out whatever lump got stuck in his throat, but he swore that his head was empty.
It felt like San’s stare was saying what? What’s your question? Are you gonna ask about how it felt to k— God, Wooyoung really wanted to flush his own head. But he was not one to chicken out and now he’s stuck in a staring battle with goddamn Choi San and his tongue was stuck in his mouth and San was terrifyingly hot in his plain black t-shirt and glasses and his bulky ass arms found their way to bulge out and somehow his eyes still had the nerve to flicker down onto those lips and—
“I have a question!” Mingi immediately interrupted with his hand raised.
Oh, thank God.
“That stylist noona, ” Mingi giggled, “Care to explain why she has your number and why her notification popped up so often on your phone?”
“Oh my God,” San exhaled and buried his reddened face in his palms, “Listen, I—”
Yunho gasped theatrically. “San and her exchanged numbers…? She’s the one with blue hair, right?”
Seonghwa laughed out loud. “So that’s why I’ve been hearing katalk, katalk, katalk, every time we’re in the dressing room?”
“Listen, guys, it’s not like that,” San quickly answered, and if Wooyoung’s eyes weren’t deceived by intoxication, San’s gaze flickered to him for a second. “Jiyeon noona and I are close, but she—“
“Oh my!” Yeosang raised his eyebrows. “Using her name already?”
Wooyoung wanted to add into the series of teasing, but his tongue felt heavy and there’s a strange twinge in his stomach. Maybe it’s the alcohol.
San shook his head. “I—Yeosang-ah, she’s literally dating my sister,” he said, voice fading and slowing down at the end of the sentence as if he’s checking the waves.
Yunho made an ‘oh’ with his mouth. “Ah, really?”
San nodded quickly. “Yeah, a—and she’s practically like my sister too…?” His eyes wandered to everyone in the room. “So. That’s literally the sole reason why I text her a lot.”
Mingi popped his lips before he flatly responded. “Not the way I expected to find out and not the twist I expected, but yay, ally.”
“Ally,” Seonghwa raised one fist.
“Ally,” Yeosang joined in.
“Ally. I’m a little bit gay.” Yunho very casually added.
Wooyoung suddenly realized that all eyes were on him. He raised his head, deep in the series of self-deprecating drunken thoughts and lectures to himself.
San’s eyes were especially piercing through him.
“A—ah,” he stuttered nervously. “Yeah, um. Ally. Cool.”
Everyone looked away from him and the game was quick to resume after. Eventually, after emptying almost three quarters of the Captain Morgan and a few sips of leftover soju, drunk was an understatement. All of them were a slurring mess, trying their best to finish the game while being half asleep. The RnB music blasting from Mingi’s phone probably even overpowered their conversation, but literally no one cared.
Before Wooyoung slipped further into the state of intoxication, one of the last things he realized was that Seonghwa was the first one to fall asleep on the sofa.
Somehow he did not realize how San ended up sitting beside him.
——
‘We are platonic best friends and we are not afraid of showing affection’ and ‘screw toxic masculinity in the ass’ were the two mantras San has been repeating inside his head.
The thing is, this thing really fucked San in the head. They have always been all skinship-ish since their early days and San has always been doing a good job in hiding his feelings. Burying, even. It’s long since not been watered and he thought he was doing a good job making it dormant.
Apparently not. He folded real bad. Perhaps Wooyoung did not even think too much of it. He did not even realize it, right?
At some point in the game, he felt like he was unconsciously drawn towards Wooyoung. He did move to sit beside his friend, but Wooyoung did not seem to be aware.
Wooyoung was all drunk beside him, clinging onto Yeosang and swaying around. San didn't even have the courage to pull him into a ‘platonic best friend’ (he sneered) hug. He’s been abandoning Wooyoung like the other boy’s nonexistent but his hands have been itching.
The game still went on, but everyone barely paid attention to it other than Yunho who’s fixated onto the spinning bottle. Wooyoung was now back on his feet, tramping noisily around their dining table. Almost everyone was walking around, apparently debating about who’s the tallest when standing in front of the bathroom door (why does it matter?) but San no longer had the energy.
San sighed and leaned his back against the sofa. Seonghwa’s fast asleep, so maybe he won’t catch on how noisy San’s head was.
Years have passed since he first realized his not-so-platonic feelings towards Wooyoung. Years, too, have passed since he tried canceling it. He folded over something that’s probably so insignificant and irrelevant for Wooyoung. It’s even worse that he felt like this was terribly significant for him. His canon event, even. It hurt him a little.
If San could cringe over being sad over something like this, he would cringe so bad. However, his facial muscles weren’t doing really great. Drunk as hell, he buried his face in his palms.
“San… San-a…!” he was pulled out of cringe jail by Wooyoung’s voice.
When he lifted his head up, to be surprised was an understatement. Wooyoung was not only approaching him, but he was fucking crawling towards him.
San’s red eyes immediately widened. Wooyoung looked blurry, but he knew that the younger one crawled into his embrace and his lap. He swallowed the lump in his throat hard.
“Wh—” he didn't even know what to say.
“San,” Wooyoung cut him. It’s always habitual for the long-haired one to step into his personal space and he’s always glad to welcome, but today this was too much. Wooyoung’s face practically hovered in front of him and he was almost entirely sitting on his lap. San’s hands froze on his sides.
The others were still chattering around their kitchen, and despite their voices sounding buzzy, San realized that no one really noticed them. It’s scary. He did not know what’s going to happen.
He forgot he was holding his breath when he answered, “...What?”
Wooyoung inhaled long and hard as if he had a lot to say. However, after San mentally prepared himself for whatever’s about to come, only a long and desperate wail came out of the other boy.
“Huh, w-what? What is it?” panicking, San immediately wrapped his two arms loosely around Wooyoung’s body, pulling the other close. Wooyoung instantly scooted over, seeking for the touch.
“I really wan’ to boil my own head and—whoosh—disappear and bury myself and—”
“No, don’t,” with a pout, one of San’s hands went to Wooyoung’s hair, brushing them back. “No, no head boiling…”
“But I need it,” Wooyoung sighed out and naturally leaned into the touch. San’s palm was cold against his heating forehead.
San’s eyebrows were furrowed. His focus had shifted into Wooyoung’s breakdown. Despite not being sober at all, he wanted to help solve the problem. “What happened?”
“You!” Wooyoung instantly responded and pressed his forehead against San’s shoulder, desperate. He blinked his damp eyelashes off. “‘m real, real stupid, ‘m sorry, made a huge… huge…, big mistake…”
His body acted faster than his brain. San immediately hugged Wooyoung, letting the boy bury his head on the crook of his neck. At this point, Wooyoung’s literally on the verge of tears. He’s probably already crying, no idea.
No matter how hard he tried to use his brain, San could not connect any dots. He’s dizzy. “Me? You—what? You—”
“At dinner,” Wooyoung slurred, hiccuping. Shame and filter were no longer in his system at this point. “‘m real stupid, yeah…? Sorry for kissing you…”
San felt his heart stop for a second, but in this moment and at this state there’s no self awareness in his bloodstream, too. He quickly shook his head. Wooyoung sounded so wounded and guilty and he had the instant will to change that. Wooyoung must not feel that way.
“No, no,” he rebuked. With minimal effort, he successfully made the younger lift his head up and stare at him. Wooyoung’s eyes were wet and he most likely really cried. The beads clinging onto his lashes were blurry, though, in San’s eyes. When they reflected the kitchen light, it’s as if Wooyoung’s eyes twinkled instead.
There was confusion, too, in Wooyoung’s gaze. San brought his hand to tuck Wooyoung’s loose, sweaty, and tear-stained hair strands behind his ears.
For a few seconds, none of them said a word. Mingi’s yells echoed throughout the apartment, saying that the rest of them were gonna continue in his room because he hid a secret bottle of Jaeger—none of that entered San’s senses.
The two were locked in a staring battle instead, both fuzzy and dazed and blurry and dizzy and…
Wooyoung’s whine cut through the silence. “No, ‘m a real dumbass, Hongjoongie hyung was right all along and I always, always, act before I use my head a–and—”
“No,” San quickly shook his head and tucked more loose strands. Wooyoung’s face was so tiny in between his palms, all whiny with his brows furrowed. If he could lose more of his mind, he would have done so.
“But y’know I’m also a dumbass…?” San continued, squinting his heavy eyes.
Wooyoung shook his head in an instant. As if he’s angry, he immediately snatched San’s hands and held them tightly in his grip. He furiously stared at San and sternly said, “Sannie ain’t a dumbass at all, okay?”
San shook his head again. He intertwined his fingers with Wooyoung’s, a messy attempt to hold his hand back. Their fingers were all entangled and Wooyoung’s all squirmy and warm. Maybe it was the alcohol taking over, but his common sense was nonexistent, so he pulled Wooyoung closer. Gone with the wind were his past weighing thoughts.
“Here, here. To make it even, ‘m a dumbass too, okay? I’m gonna—”
He gave Wooyoung a small peck on the lips.
Wooyoung froze. San could feel the younger’s hands stop squirming and go stiff. However, before he could react (what was he even gonna do? Apologize? He’s not even sober), Wooyoung whined, long and hard.
“No, no! San’s—I’m dumber!” as if it’s a sudden competition, Wooyoung shut his eyes tight, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against San’s for much longer, albeit unmoving.
He pulled away swiftly after a while and inhaled. “Is me.”
San groaned in distress. “Why did you do that, I made it even…!”
He frowned and gave Wooyoung an equally long peck. When Wooyoung was showing protests of breathlessness and wanted to pull back, San’s hand firmly went to Wooyoung’s nape, pushing him in.
They both remained in the same position until San went out of breath. The two of them were fast to break apart and gasp for air, breaking into a giggling fit in an instant.
“Now we’re even, yeah…?” pressing his forehead against Wooyoung’s, San mumbled through his grin. Their noses were still brushing one another and Wooyoung’s breath, warm, hovered on his lips. San felt something warm in the middle of his chest.
Wooyoung nodded slowly. He wrapped his arms around San’s shoulder, cuddling him. San’s body was quick to respond since the younger’s now all tucked in, limbs entangled.
He felt San’s lips meeting his temple. “Mhm, even.”
Burying his face in the taller’s crook of neck, all the alcohol seemed to be taking over and suddenly he had this extreme urge to sleep. San always smelled comfortable. Being near San made him sleepy and all drowsy.
Wooyoung brushed his lips against San’s neck and that’s the last thing he most likely did before he fell into a deep slumber.
“You’re a dumbass, ‘m a dumbass too,” he concluded.
——
“—okay, I’m setting up the — black camera, yeah?”
“Director, do I need to — or just walk around —“
“No, no, yeah, I love this idea—“
Wooyoung furrowed his eyebrows upon unwillingly hearing Hongjoong’s voice seeping through his senses.
“ Hyung,” with all his might he managed to croak out, wanting to ask Hongjoong to be quieter. Nil—his voice was fucking nonexistent.
He frowned, confused why he could not even talk properly. It took him a little while to realize that his head was pounding and his body was apparently painful from top to bottom.
“Ack,” he winced. Wooyoung tried to move, but his body felt so heavy. Unwilling to give up, he tried to move again.
Huh? The more he shifted, the more he realized that his joints were all screaming from sleeping on… on… the floor…?
Except the one half of his body, because he’s half sleeping on top of Choi San…?
He squinted his eyes, trying to process his surroundings, bright with the sunlight seeping through. Lying down on his stomach, Wooyoung lifted his upper body with his elbows, and that’s when he realized just how dizzy he was.
“Hello! Happy new year, everyone,” Hongjoong’s voice became louder inside one of the rooms, followed by his own greeting. He’s using his camera voice, Wooyoung acknowledged, before forcefully glancing around again.
Why was he sleeping with San on the living room floor?
Oh. Oh fuck.
When the realization washed over him, Wooyoung was like getting splashed with ice water. On the head. Hard and all at once.
His eyes darted towards San who’s still fast asleep.
Right away, he wanted to sprint out of the apartment and disappear on any land that’s willing to swallow him. The memories of last night played in his head. A choppy movie, but he could recognize every detail.
Especially when he… kissed San?
If Wooyoung’s throat wasn’t fucked up and if he wasn’t at risk of waking San up, he definitely would have been screaming. Fuck, he really did kiss San. A few times. He might have been drunk, but that one bit was… was…
Blood rushed to his head. Wooyoung immediately buried his face in his palms, frustrated. He grunted onto his own hands.
His own train of thoughts were forcefully interrupted with Hongjoong’s voice. He sounded like he’s talking by himself—maybe filming a vlog? Either way, nothing shocked him more than when the door handle creaked.
Shit, Hongjoong’s gonna get out of the room and he’s gonna find the two of them practically cuddling and—
“So, a lot of ATINYs were asking about…” Hongjoong chuckled, “Our new year party? Mhm, I suppose people will be curious since it’s our—“
San stirred when Hongjoong laughed.
It happened like a flash. Before Wooyoung even realized, San’s eyes were already opened and he pulled himself into a sitting position. He probably didn’t realize that half of Wooyoung was still cuddled up, his arm wrapped around Wooyoung’s waist.
“San—“ Wooyoung croaked out. What did he even want to say? Was he going to explain? Apologize? Ask about San’s sleep?
Before he finished, Hongjoong’s already opened the door.
“Oh shit,” San cursed. His voice was all husky and velvety and heavy and Wooyoung’s almost starstruck if it wasn’t for the punishing headache. His eyes darted towards Hongjoong. “Shit, I forgot—“
Hongjoong stepped out of the bedroom. The two immediately realized that Hongjoong was holding a camera.
He’s filming a damn vlog.
Wooyoung was like a deer at headlight. Panicking, he looked back and forth at Hongjoong and San with his mouth agape. Hongjoong gave Wooyoung one glance.
What was he going to do? He had zero escape plans at this point. His limbs were frozen in place.
However, San was quick to act. Despite struggling at the beginning, the boy stood up. San’s eyes shook in panic when he forcefully grabbed Wooyoung’s hand, dragging the two of them towards the bathroom.
No words were exchanged between the two of them. It was as if they both silently knew just what to do. Or maybe it’s as if Wooyoung trusted San with his life. Wooyoung, anxious, held San’s hand with both of his.
“Let’s check if Yeosang’s awake,” Hongjoong immediately said to the camera and walked the opposite direction as if he’s sparing the two of them their own space to hide.
Once they made it to the bathroom, Wooyoung closed the door behind them and San immediately sighed in relief. Before he finally let out the breath he’s been holding, Wooyoung did not even realize how much he panicked.
“Fuck, I—“ San sat on top of the closed toilet bowl. His hand combed back his tousled hair and frustration was obvious in his face.
For a moment, none of them said a thing. Wooyoung leaned his back against the sink. His heart rumbled inside his chest and he could feel the beats in his entire body. He stared at the floor, trying to avoid the situation.
“Listen, Wooyoung,” San carefully blurted out, still with the velvety morning voice. “I’m sorry, yeah?”
“Sorry for…” there’s this unclear pang of hurt in Wooyoung’s chest.
“I forgot that Hongjoong hyung said he was gonna film this morning,” he continued. “Hungover Ateez content or something like that, they said. Shit, I totally forgot.”
“Ah,” Wooyoung gaped his mouth. He froze for a while before he replied, “Y-yeah, it’s okay. No big deal. I forgot too.”
The two slipped into silence again.
“San, I—“ Wooyoung broke the silence.
At the same time, San also spoke, “Last night—“
They stopped abruptly.
Somehow, Wooyoung’s brain impulsively decided that it’s a good time for a little chuckle. “Ah, so you remember about last night.”
San threw his glance at the floor when the tips of his ears turned red. “Of course. You first. What did you wanna say?”
Wooyoung’s lips sealed shut when he actually did not have any plan on what to say.
Don’t chicken out, he scolded himself. It’s such a small dick energy thing to chicken out in this situation. He fiddled and fiddled with his shirt before he finally mumbled, “Y’know, when I said I was sorry, I meant it.”
San darted his eyes on him, and suddenly Wooyoung felt a lot smaller. For a few seconds, their gazes met in the middle until Wooyoung, anxious, broke it. He could sense how noisy San’s head was—the other boy’s thinking hard.
“Yeah,” San replied—he sounded unsure. He paused, mouth hanging open, before his head tilted and he suddenly continued, “Do we talk about this like real adults or do we let it slip and pretend like it never happened?”
Wooyoung’s heartbeat probably escalated ten times. No idea. He did not even think anymore and the plan was to just let his mouth run on itself. However, letting his mouth run on itself also meant saying, “We talk,” as he stared back at San.
Huge fucking mistake. His head’s empty and he did not even know how and what to talk.
San nodded. He’s chewing his lower lip, so probably he’s anxious too. “Fine. C’mere, then.”
At this point, there’s nothing to lose. They’re way too far and there’s no way back. Wooyoung slowly approached, approached, and approached, until now he’s standing between San’s knees, eyes glancing downwards to meet San’s.
It’s not a good position to stand at when you just kissed this person for the first time and there’s this… erotic (erotic???? Wooyoung barfed) energy only a hideout-slash-bathroom would have.
I’m so fucked, he thought.
None of them said a word for a while. Wooyoung’s so close to literally running away and disappearing, but he tried his best to brace himself and he inhaled until his chest and head hurt.
Wooyoung placed both of his hands on San’s shoulders, facing the other man eye to eye. “We talk it out like men.”
Amused, San’s eyes lit up. There was still a glint of fear, though, and Wooyoung noticed. “Like men,” he repeated, grinning. “Okay. Like men. But my—my neck hurts. I don’t wanna look up.”
“Fuck you, my entire body hurts from sleeping on the floor,” he immediately ranted and smacked San’s shoulder.
“Excuse me, you made me sleep on the floor. You literally slept on me,” San rebuked. As if he’s angry, he forcefully pulled Wooyoung with one hand, making the younger one practically fall on his lap. “Screw you and your lack of self control, you never know your limit and you just kept on drinking whatever they poured you, right? Because of you and your weight, since, if you forget, I shall remind you that you slept on me, my neck and back’s freaking painful.”
There’s a fire inside Wooyoung’s brain. And lower stomach.
He’s sitting on San’s lap and San’s scolding him. Self-restraint can only go for so long—he’s trying his best to distract himself.
“And I’m still goddamn hungover,” San continued, “So… so, yeah.”
Out of the blue, San looked away as if he’s shy. Wooyoung really did not know what to feel. This is platonic, this is casual, they’ve done this as friends. Yes. It’s fine. Definitely . Absolutely.
Wooyoung’s eyes accidentally flickered down to San’s lips.
“So,” San started again as he looked back at Wooyoung’s eyes. He seemed to catch Wooyoung glancing down, but he’s pretending so hard to not notice. “I… you, don’t be sorry, yeah? Stop apologizing.”
“Do you…” Wooyoung’s reply did not skip a beat. “Do you not want me to apologize?”
The way San’s looking at him changed—Wooyoung can just sense it.
After pondering for a little while, the older one shook his head slowly. His eyes went to Wooyoung’s eyes, lips, and eyes again.
San’s hand went to Wooyoung’s hair. Again, he’s doing his thing—he’s tucking loose strands behind Wooyoung’s hair and Wooyoung’s fighting back his massive morning wood.
“No. Why should you?”
There was tension in the air. Maybe it’s because they’re not fully sober yet and there’s still alcohol in their hungover system, or maybe the bathroom lacked oxygen and it’s hard for their brains to properly work. Either way, something shifted in Wooyoung’s head when San’s breath felt warm against his lips.
“Maybe,” gnawing on his lower lip, Wooyoung did not wait to taunt. “Maybe because I’m a reckless person and I always ruin things.”
San scoffed. There were no longer stolen glances; he’s fully looking at Wooyoung’s lips now. Bold, bold Choi San always awakened something inside of his timid self, but today they were too far and there’s no turning back and Wooyoung no longer had the will to chicken out.
“A little destructive, aren’t you?”
Wooyoung shrugged. “Mm. Guess I do like screwing things up.”
San smiled. His chests raised under Wooyoung’s hands and he could feel him radiate with swelling pride.
His hand made its way to Wooyoung’s messy locks when he nonchalantly said, “Then go and ruin something else for me, won’t you?”
Ruin something else for me, won’t you?
Wooyoung’s breath hitched and he inched forward, lessening the space between them.
His heart was running so fast he could feel it in his head. Did San want this to happen? Was San really thinking about the only thing he’s thinking about right now?
“Hey,” he whispered, and his voice was shaking. His hands went to cup San’s cheeks and when their skins met it all felt so real. San’s all warm and he’s still staring so hard. Wooyoung’s suddenly so impatient and he has since lost the ability to think straight.
His lips hovered over San’s, just the exact right distance to brush against the plush.
“Can I do this?”
When San’s jaws rumbled with a hum, Wooyoung cut all possible distance between them.
It’s all so real. He barely remembered how San’s lips felt last night, but this time Wooyoung got the chance to truly taste. When their lips met, he was immediately washed over with something akin to relief. It’s all happening. It’s all fucking happening.
He never knew what type of kisser San was, but the way his body went limp felt like magic.
San liked to take his time; his hand was gentle to cradle Wooyoung’s lower back, digits resting against the dip of his bone. However, his lips felt like scorching fire when at some point he magically took over.
The mouthy, all-bratty Wooyoung turned into putty under his touch. Wooyoung was instantly so full of San, head clouded and chest burning. Leaning into San’s touch felt like second nature when he gaped his mouth so willingly; so obedient over San’s unsaid orders. On the exact momentum where San’s tongue found its way to slip in, he’s floating—he’s never been kissed this good.
Out there, he could vaguely hear Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s voices. However, nothing seemed to matter when his world was suddenly so full of San.
San’s palm laid flat on his nape, pulling him in and deepening the kiss. Maybe it’s from the way San’s thumb grazed his vein or something, but Wooyoung’s suddenly so lightheaded and he whined into the kiss.
As if his desires were understood and returned, San pulled Wooyoung closer in his lap, and his entire body burnt . Their chests met when San tugged his teeth on Wooyoung’s lower lip and he let out the most beautiful whimper San’s ever heard.
“San,” Wooyoung let out a high-pitched whisper, tone laced with desperation. His hands slipped down to clutch onto the shoulders of the older.
“Mhm,” San hummed. Breaking off the kiss, he took his time to breathe. His eyes were still locked against Wooyoung’s lips and the younger one just knew how pretty he looked; his chest was heaving, his lips were all swollen and glistening and worn-out from the kiss.
Wooyoung could taste San in his tongue.
“...Fuck,” with his throat all worn-out, Wooyoung cursed in the middle of catching his breath. He’s lightheaded and there were stars in his eyes and his entire body buzzed. “You…, you—“
Wooyoung’s speechless. So he’s doing the only thing he could think of doing: kissing San again.
This time, there was a layer of an ever-growing starvation. San’s fingers fit just perfectly on his waist, thumb moving in a circular motion against his skin and it’s burning. Wooyoung somehow found his arms draped around San’s shoulder, pulling him closer like he’s never been kissed so hard.
“Good job,” San whispered against his lips. San kissed him again, open-mouthed, before he pulled away just very slightly to say, “On screwing things up.”
Wooyoung could not defeat the heat pooling inside his stomach. He whimpered in agreement, albeit shaky, and he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. At this point, Wooyoung dived way too deep to swim out, and he’s willing to stick his head in the water for God knows how long.
Their chests felt warm flushing against each other under the fabric. With a small groan, San’s hand moved from his nape to landing just over his collarbones. Wooyoung couldn’t contain the small mewl that escaped.
This was nothing like what he imagined—San’s got him wrapped around his little finger. Everything felt so perfect, from the way San’s fingers tilted his jaw to the feeling of having San’s body flushed against him.
“Fuck, San, I—“ shaking, Wooyoung gasped for air and pulled away. He didn’t even realize how hot his face felt. “Wait—“
San furrowed his eyebrows and almost showed signs of protest. However, he was quick to hold himself aback. His chest was heaving and he locked his eyes on Wooyoung’s lips when he murmured in disappointment, heavy-lidded, “Why?”
Wooyoung licked his lips and swallowed. His face probably has turned beet red at this point and there were barely any coherent thoughts in his clouded head. He swallowed.
“You’re good as fuck,” was the best thing he could come up with.
San’s smug dimple popped up. “Thanks, it’s a new compliment.”
“But,” Wooyoung gestured at his pants and his pathetically bulging crotch in embarrassment. At this point, he couldn’t guarantee what’s about to happen—he felt like he’s about to explode from his bodily reaction.
“Seriously, if you don’t stop, I… yeah. ‘m a simple dude. Cry about it.”
San broke into laughter upon seeing it. It’s ironic, though, since Wooyoung’s erection was actually pressing his equally pathetic hard-on.
“Fine, fine, I’ll stop,” San said, and the smile on his face was probably one of the fondest Wooyoung’s ever looked at. One of the hottest, too.
Giddy, he smiled back.
Under the warm bathroom light, San looked so pretty and something warm bloomed inside his chest.
As the two were catching their breath, they let the comfortable silence seep through. During all this time, he’s still comfortably settled on San’s lap and their eyes refused to stir away from one another.
Wooyoung couldn’t help but to plant a small kiss.
Really, this was something Wooyoung never expected to happen. Kissing San as part of a fantasy he’s always buried throughout his painful sexual awakening was one thing, but to make it a sober reality was another thing.
But San’s pretty and handsome. And hot as hell. And it’s not his fault that he wanted to kiss San again.
“Why is kissing you so much fun?” he groaned as if he’s talking to himself through his pout.
“Wanna know a fun fact?” San lazily asked.
Wooyoung blinked his thoughts away. “What?”
“Yesterday was my first kiss.”
If it wasn’t his palm covering his mouth, Wooyoung would’ve screamed out loud and announced their existence to the whole dormitory. “What?!”
“Yeah,” San confirmed. He took Wooyoung’s hand away and sneaked one very casual kiss on the corner of his lips. “And today’s my second kiss.”
“Not second,” Wooyoung quickly corrected, “Since I did kiss you a few times yesterday.”
He must’ve been blushing furiously since San’s grinning from ear to ear. Again, there’s this fondness only a Choi San would emit, especially when his lovely dimples showed up.
“Sure. If you say so.”
Wooyoung’s heart’s doing that thing again where it went crazy in his chest. Letting the fact seep through his brain, the realization that he’s San’s first kiss was… insane. He gnawed on his lower lip again.
“Can I ask something?” Wooyoung mumbled.
“Mm. Ask away.”
“You—” he placed his palms on San’s collarbones, enjoying the way those muscles twitched under his touch. “Are you… Do you like men?”
As if it’s the most casual fact ever in the world, San nodded. “Yeah. I don’t get to explore much—self explanatory, but I’m gonna say that I most likely swing all ways.”
“Ah,” Wooyoung nodded. He’s chewing on his lower lip again. So San’s a danger to literally every gender for being the sexbomb that he is. Understandable. And literally every human stood a chance to be Wooyoung’s contender. Understandable too.
“I see. Makes sense… and I’m the first person to kiss you…? How come…?”
San nodded again. “I would very much prefer doing it with you than, like,” he gestured, “with someone random I don't even know from a random club.”
“Yeah, right,” Wooyoung exhaled. There’s absolutely no reason for his heart to flutter or his stomach to go warm. He’s San’s first kiss. Word by word, it sounded crazy.
“You? What about you?”
When San shot his question, his tone was laced with something akin to jealousy (or maybe Wooyoung’s just hallucinating it). The older one’s terrible at disguising his own feelings, but the last thing Wooyoung wanted was to make assumptions.
“I… was straight,” Wooyoung started, “or at least I thought I was. Until a few years ago.”
“Ah,” San raised his brows in acknowledgement. “The Bighit trainee girl?”
Wooyoung nodded. “Dated her for a few months. When we broke up, I thought I wasn’t a good boyfriend. Apparently she just doesn’t like dudes and now she’s the, how do they say it, ‘lesbian icon’ in her group.”
San snorted. “Definitely a fun party trivia.”
“Yeah,” Wooyoung grinned.
Up until now, he’s still sitting on San’s lap and his arms were still around San like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“What about after her?” San shot his question right away.
Taken aback, Wooyoung raised his eyebrows. It took him a few while to ponder his realization before he replied, heat creeping up his face, “No one. I was caught up with our debut project and I was busy with the gay awakening of the century.”
There was this confused air in San’s face.
“It’s you, dumbass.” Wooyoung flicked San’s forehead gently, causing the taller one to fake a dramatic wince. “I struggled big time with a shit ton of brotherly-friendship-skinship-moment because it’s a fucking canon event for me.”
It took him a while, but when the revelation hit, San gaped his mouth in surprise. “Wha—what? How? What do you mean—I have no idea…?”
Wooyoung broke into a series of laughter, and if it wasn’t for Mingi’s vague voice from inside the apartment, he would’ve not stopped. “Of course you must not know. Yeosang’s the only one who knew about this. Have you ever wondered why I spent so much time with Yeosang after practices in our early days? It’s because it was stressing me out so much, y’know. This is embarrassing as fuck to admit but you’re my goddamn gay awakening, San-a…”
San, flabbergasted, couldn’t close his agape mouth. He stared at Wooyoung in disbelief.
Endeared, Wooyoung couldn’t help but to giggle.
After processing for a while, San shut his eyes, and there was relief in his expression when he opened them. With a little scoff to himself, he pulled Wooyoung close.
Before Wooyoung even realized it, San’s kissing him again. This kiss didn’t last long, though, since San cracked up in the middle of it.
“What do you mean it’s me!”
“I—“ flabbergasted, Wooyoung gestures wildly as he explained himself, “Look at yourself! You’re this hot, stunning, handsome trainee and you’re lovely and—“ his hands cupped San’s cheeks furiously, “Have you ever seen yourself?”
San shook his head, squishing his cheeks even more. “Nah.”
The tan boy looked speechless for a moment before he sighed. Really, it’s a very Choi San thing to be so hot yet so unaware of it.
Running his hair through San’s black locks, Wooyoung mumbled, “I guess I’d have to elaborate in a lot of ways, huh…”
There was this radiating fondness in San’s face when he smiled. “Yeah. Take your time—I have all the time in the world.”
It’s nice. He’s caressing San’s hair and San’s rubbing comforting circles on his sides. It’s nice to just sit there and bask in the warmth that’s ever-blooming inside him, to finally get things straight, and to have Choi San all by himself.
Eventually, they would have to walk out of the bathroom. Wooyoung’s not prepared on what to say once he faced the other members, especially if Hongjoong’s camera was still running.
But, until then, it’s nice. He’d love to stay in this position for a little more. Just for another minute.
“Happy new year, Wooyoungie,” San gave him a little kiss.
“Happy new year.”