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It started when San kissed him on stage, a warm press of lips to the corner of his mouth. Yeosang jolted back with a shocked smile, hand coming to cup his cheek. The warmth spread through his face and into his body, bringing with it a giddiness that carried him through the rest of their set, through their ending bows and goodbyes, and into the car.
It stayed with him as he sat sandwiched between San and Seonghwa. San, still hyped up from the concert, body vibrating with adrenaline. Seonghwa, with his earpods in, head leaning against the window.
And Yeosang felt…different as he toyed with the edge of his jacket. His concert nights were usually very structured. Stumble off stage, scroll on his phone, wash the sweat and makeup from his body, apply skincare, get food delivered, and go to bed. Tonight, though, he didn’t want to do that. Tonight, he didn’t want to go back to an empty hotel room.
Did he want to hang out with the others? Work out the feeling in the gym? He wasn’t sure but there was an energy under his skin. An excitement that swept away his mental exhaustion even as his muscles ached.
He couldn’t have explained it if he tried, so he opted to wave a happy goodbye to the other members as they split off to rest or work off the extra energy in the gym. But instead of going to his room like he usually would, he made his way to the roof of the hotel. There was a pool at the top and while it bustled with activity during the day, it was completely abandoned at the late hour. He was surprised that the door was even open.
He hit shuffle on his current favorite playlist and sat down on cool pavement, gaze drifting up to the stars, only barely visible through the city lights. Even as he stared up into the sky, the excitement – the sense of something new – didn’t disappear.
--
The kiss seemed to bring out something new in San. He’d always been prone to bouts of physical affection – even with Yeosang, who was notoriously not one of their touchiest members – but from that day it was like a floodgate had opened. An arm thrown around his shoulders, a forehead bumping against his back, hands pulling him into a hug no matter what he was doing. And it felt nice despite his shouts of surprise each time it happened. Warm. Comfortable.
And then it extended onto the stage. It was scripted, almost. Yeosang would watch San, San would grab Yeosang, there’d maybe be a kiss dropped aggressively onto any available skin, Yeosang would flinch away playfully, and then they would continue as normal. A happy routine.
And then it extended to interviews – to livestreams. To San saying Yeosang was his while Yeosang jokingly pushed back. Maybe there was a hint of panic in the way he flinched away. In the awkward laugh that answered every overly affectionate word San sent his way. A hint of maybe something more.
Yeosang refused to ponder the feeling. Things were good. San bestowed endless dimpled smiles and warm hugs upon him and it felt good.
So, off stage, he started melting into the hugs, resting his head against San’s shoulder during off times and long car rides. He was used to Wooyoung attacking him with hugs and cuddles. He wasn’t a stranger to physical affection, but to initiate it outside of his relationship with Wooyoung was…new. Interesting. And the more he did it with San, the more he craved it.
But he didn’t want to come across as weird or like he was favoring anyone, so he expanded his efforts. Leaning against Jongho when they played games, laying his head in Seonghwa’s lap while waiting through the long delays of music shows, napping on Yunho in between the awkward amounts of off time in between schedules.
There was a thrill of joy – of belonging – that shot through him when Yunho stopped what he was doing to make the position more comfortable for Yeosang, when Seonghwa’s hands carded through his hair, when Jongho wound an arm around his shoulders, when San dropped a kiss onto the top of his head. He didn’t dare do much with Hongjoong or Mingi but he could do this much with everyone else.
It didn’t matter though. As soon as Hongjoong noticed his newfound interest in physical touch, the leader subtly wiggled his way in with pats on his head, squeezes of his arm in passing, and a sudden desire to sort out his appearance. His hair was never quite in place anymore. He always had the smallest bit of lipstick that smeared after he drank. Yeosang preened under the attention.
Though it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Wooyoung, for instance, had an increasing tendency to loudly complain that he was Yeosang’s best friend and it wasn’t fair that he had to share him with everyone else now.
“Well, you’ll just have to join the Yeolympics with the rest of us.” Seonghwa answered smugly, looking up from where he’d been absentmindedly braiding a piece of Yeosang’s hair. Wooyoung threw himself with a glare into the chair opposite them.
“The what?” Yeosang looked up, brows scrunched.
Seonghwa smirked, “The fight for your hand.” He flicked Yeosang’s forehead lightly.
Yeosang whined, bringing his hand to the attacked area.
“What fight?” San had just returned from hair and makeup, “He’s mine .”
His tone was joking as he pulled Yeosang from Seonghwa. Yeosang went easily, giggling as San wrapped arms around his waist, head coming to rest on his shoulder. Despite his efforts to even out his displays of affection, San was always a bit…different. His touches almost warmer, bringing that fluttering sensation that made its way through his whole body. Yeosang hadn’t quite figured it out yet but there was an excitement to how San held him, rocking him back and forth.
“My best friend.” Wooyoung complained again, but he moved to sit next to Seonghwa. He might be whining, but there was a mischievous smile on his face that Yeosang couldn’t quite figure out.
--
“I’m glad you’re feeling more comfortable with us.”
Yeosang was at dinner with Wooyoung at their favorite barbecue spot. It had been too long…far too long since they’d had the chance to go out, just the two of them. He dropped his chopsticks in surprise.
“What?” He had been comfortable with his members for a long time. It was true it had been different – more – lately but…
Wooyoung just smiled at him, “The touches – cuddles, as San insists – I’m glad you’re feeling comfortable.”
Yeosang blushed, eyes dropping to his lap. His fingers were all of a sudden very interesting. “Well…I…I thought…”
“Hey, I get it,” Wooyoung waved him off, “We’re a touchy band, but, um, Yeosang?”
Yeosang looked up with a frown, “Yeah?”
“Just be a bit careful, with, um, San.” Wooyoung wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were focused on grilling the meat in front of him.
“Careful?” Yeosang cocked his head to the side.
Wooyoung winced, to Yeosang’s confusion. He was uncharacteristically silent for a moment before he lightly shook his head.
“Nevermind,” He said, “Just be real with him.”
“Of-Of course.” Yeosang wasn’t sure what he was getting at. He hadn’t been hurting San had he? Made him feel like he wasn’t being…real with him? He bit his lip. He would do better. If Wooyoung was telling him – or half telling him – he wasn’t doing well enough then he would do better.
–-
He really tried. He tried to find the words to say I love you back when San came to him with playful declarations of love. He tried to initiate more than light touches and teasing looks. But every time, the words died in his throat. Every time he stood there and did nothing.
It didn’t seem to bother San at all though. He laughed when he chased Yeosang down until the words I love you too came out, strained and awkward under breathless giggles, Yeosang staring anywhere but at San’s face. He was unaffected when Yeosang failed to relax in his arms on stage and when he flinched away from kisses, both onstage and off.
When it came time to record San’s birthday wishes though, he felt a weight come off his chest.
“I’m grateful San shows me affection…And I’m sorry, that I can’t return it.”
His manager gave him a questioning look but Yeosang just shrugged. He smiled to himself though. Hopefully, San would understand.
And when he had the chance on Idol Radio, surrounded by the sounds of fans shouting just outside the window, face still flushed from a rather aggressive kiss, he said it again.
“San normally expresses himself a lot. Since I’m bad at expressing myself, I can’t say things like I like you or I love you,” He focused on Hongjoong, avoiding San’s smile, “But I’m always thankful to San for expressing it to me a lot.”
He laughed anxiously, eyes accidentally finding San’s. San was looking at him with such kindness, such adoration, that it was overwhelming. He broke eye contact with another laugh, thankful for the stage makeup that hid his blush.
When San leaned against him on the ride home, he felt like he’d achieved something. That he’d made it clear. And if he felt that flutter inside his stomach again as he dropped his cheek onto the top of San’s head, no one had to know.
–-
Things picked up from there. Festivals, performances, and preparations for their upcoming comeback all piled up and they barely had a moment to breathe. But San was always there with a light hand against his back, with a chin hooked over his shoulder, and still – despite how many times Yeosang flinched away with a surprised laugh – with kisses pressed into his cheek.
Today’s shoot was cold, the crisp air of October in New York cut through the too-thin jacket Yeosang had picked out from the presented wardrobe options. He shivered as wind whipped off the Hudson River and, despite his shouts of joy when Hongjoong and Mingi made a Z on the ground, he felt beyond grateful when they were taken back inside.
He felt slightly less grateful when he realized the game would have San picking something to be disappointed with him in. His stomach twisted anxiously as he spun around to face the other members.
“There are not many things to be disappointed about with Yeosang.” San’s voice was gentle, kind.
Yeosang smiled. It wasn’t too serious then, whatever it was. He thought over the options in his head – maybe he hadn’t been listening when San described the plot of a book he’d been reading lately? Maybe he’d accidentally stolen some of San’s food?
“San has a lot of this emotion.” Hongjoong’s first hint interrupted his thoughts.
Ah, so it is an emotion. That definitely widened his options, he thought with a frown.
Wooyoung chimed in, “So, you need it.”
Need it? Yeosang turned to San, “I need it?”
“You need it.” San responded with raised eyebrows.
Mingi laughed from where he sat on the other side of the table, “Is it a deficit?”
Wooyoung’s voice was also joyful, “It’s too easy to say it’s just a deficit.”
Yeosang looked between San and Wooyoung, turning the hints over in his head. Wooyoung had his hands in his pockets, a teasing smile on his face.
“For example, San kisses you, but you don’t accept it.”
Oh, the way he jerked away?
“He wants me to accept it? He’s disappointed in me not accepting it?” He gestured to San with a short laugh..
Mingi leaned across the table with a calm smile, “That’s just an example.”
“So, why kissing?” Wooyoung prompted.
Hmm. He stared down at the table, kisses were a way San showed affection. Displaying affection was definitely something he struggled with.
“Ah!” Yeosang said excitedly, “He’s disappointed because I avoided his love. He’s disappointed because I didn’t accept it.”
A chorus of ohs echoed around him. Hongjoong was asking the production staff if what he said was close enough, but Yeosang just picked up the card. There it was, written clearly, When I, San, was disappointed because Yeosang didn’t take my love.
“There is nothing to be disappointed in…He’s so nice, there’s nothing to be disappointed in.” San said as Yeosang stared at the card.
There was a hint of something in San’s voice, in the words written on the paper as Yeosang read them out loud, that bothered him.
“Ah, this can be a misunderstanding!” Yeosang protested, “I love San, of course, I just don’t like his pecks.” He giggled, gesturing. San smiled in return, bending over with a laugh and he felt himself relaxing, “I accept only his love, not his kisses.”
Hongjoong intervened, “What was the situation, San?”
“Actually, when I say to Yeosang that I love him, he says ‘Ah, ah!’ and runs away,” San explained. Yeosang couldn’t help the laugh that broke out of him, hand coming to hit the table. The nervous energy that seemed to only exist when San was near always seemed to expand in those moments, sending him running to safety, “So I follow him until I’m close and say I love you.”
San was close to him all of a sudden. He’d rolled his chair over and thrown an arm around his shoulders, face dangerously close to his own. Yeosang felt panic rise inside and he looked up, straining his neck as though it would help him get away. This is very much not showing that you accept his love, he thought, hands clutching the card.
“Then he says it back to me – ‘I love you, too.’” San continued, expression kind. Too kind, “When I say I love him, I wish he could say it back right away.”
Yeosang could only hum in response, head jerking in a nod. The fluttering energy was back and there were too many cameras, too many people and nowhere to run. And San’s hand was still on the back of his chair.
“I love you?” San tried, lifting his eyebrows.
“Ah,” Yeosang looked anywhere but him, eyes darting around the room, seeing nothing, “I love you, too.”
“This is how he acts,” San whined loudly to the rest of the room.
Yeosang laughed awkwardly. He wished he could be a bit better. He really did. He wished he had a better grasp on this feeling that had him jerking back, that had him stuttering out the responses San wanted to hear until he knew they just sounded forced. San clearly wanted a bit more from him. He wished he could reciprocate, at least a little bit.
He kept thinking about it even as he said a final, strained I love you and the conversation moved on. And when he returned to his hotel room later in the day, it came back to him, his thumb hovering over San’s name to call him. Then he got the live notification. San was talking to their fans. It could wait another day, he thought, even as his stomach twisted with anxiety.
It was a restless night.
--
The next day he woke up late, bright sunlight peeking out from the small crack where the blinds separated from the window. He’d missed the notification from San asking if anyone wanted to go out for brunch and a walk but Wooyoung and Hongjoong had agreed to go with him.
He didn’t get a chance to talk to San that day.
Or the next.
Or the next.
And then a week had passed, then two, and honestly what was he even going to say? It didn’t get any easier to accept San’s love. The butterflies only increased with each dimpled smile, with each I love you. And Yeosang was increasingly worried that he knew what the nervous energy that skyrocketed when San placed hands on his hips meant.
He pondered it as he sat at his desk, a box of takeout in front of him. What could he do? Tell San? San who was touchy with every member, who cuddled with Seonghwa and had been kissing Wooyoung’s cheeks almost every day since they met. There wasn’t really anything special about how he treated Yeosang.
He pushed the beef around irritatedly. It was true though. San loved physical affection – and Yeosang loved it too – but the way he felt when San pulled him into his side was different. And he didn’t know what he wanted to do about that.
Did he even want to do anything?
Ping!
A message from Wooyoung popped up on his computer, asking him to log on and play a game with him. Yeosang jumped at the request, abandoning his food for headphones and fights with clear rules, clear strategy. The crisis faded to the background as Wooyoung yelled at him for not noticing the enemies attacking their base and costing them the match.
--
Time passed and his internal crisis stayed unresolved. And…and…the touches faded. San still threw an arm around his shoulders and he still kept an eye out for Yeosang. Yeosang couldn’t tell when, exactly, it happened but where there used to be playful grabs, there were now only light touches. Where there had been a comfortable weight against his back, now there was only a shoulder squeeze in passing.
And the kisses…there were no more kisses. No more dramatic declarations of love off screen. On camera, San still tried to kiss him, still said he was his favorite. But only on camera.
Yeosang felt cold, even as he pulled the blanket closer around him. They were at a shoot for a variety show and San was nodding off on Seonghwa’s shoulder, Wooyoung on his other side, playing a game on his phone while they waited for the others to get out of hair and makeup. Yeosang had taken the smaller couch, intent on curling up to get a few more minutes of rest but he was cold.
Yunho stopped in front of his couch, hair newly dyed a pretty shade of blue-gray, “You doing okay?”
Yeosang nodded. He was alright. He was. He didn’t need constant attention or cuddles. But he was cold. Yunho brushed a piece of hair out of his face, smiling softly as Yeosang leaned into his touch.
He didn’t get much sleep but he still was slightly more relaxed when it came to the shoot. He tried not to let it bother him when San glued himself to Wooyoung. San still teased him, still sent him warm smiles but it was too much like how it used to be before…before San kissed him on stage almost a year ago.
Maybe he’d gotten too used to the arm over his shoulder for it to feel cold now. Maybe he’d gotten too used to the weight against his back for him to feel almost naked now.
Needless to say, his team lost the random challenges they’d been presented with that day. Who knew if he’d even done enough to get his minutes, he thought irritably as he threw himself into the car to go back to the apartment. The cold had transformed into an anger that he couldn’t help but direct towards himself.
To his surprise, though, Wooyoung climbed over him instead of Yunho.
“What—”
“Yunho wants to hang out with Mingi and Jongho – they’re headed back to ours. So I thought we could hang out.”
This was something he was grateful to Wooyoung for. If Wooyoung wanted to hang out, he would make it happen. But…
“You don’t want to hang out with San?” The question left his mouth before he could think better of it. He wasn’t exactly jealous of their friendship anymore but well, maybe right now, he almost wanted the excuse to go be miserable in his room all alone.
Wooyoung leveled him with a look so dangerous Yeosang thought he was at risk for exploding.
“Sorry! Sorry.”
The car ride back was almost silent, their manager running them through the schedule for the next day as a reminder.
The minute they arrived at the apartment building, Wooyoung looped an arm around one of Yeosang’s and, with a goodbye bow to their manager, pulled him into his room.
“I still can’t believe you have no furniture in your living room.” He muttered as he pushed Yeosang onto the bed and plopped down next to him.
“Well, we have the massage chair,” Yeosang protested half-heartedly.
Wooyoung ignored him, “So.”
“So?”
“What’s wrong?” Wooyoung asked. His roughness had been replaced with a gentle tone, his eyes trying to catch Yeosang’s.
“Wrong?” Yeosang echoed. He stared at the blank wall in front of him. A hospital shade of white. He’d never decided if he wanted to have any decorations on his walls, “Nothing’s wrong.”
Wooyoung leaned back on the bed, giving him a bit more space, “Want to try that again? You’ve been quiet.”
The wall really was interesting. The way the shadow of his monitor created harsh shadows against it. “I’m always quiet.”
“Alright, quiet for you. Out of it. Keeping to yourself too much.”
He couldn’t really find anything to say to that. Wooyoung was right. Wooyoung was his best friend and there was no real point in trying to lie to his best friend. Even if he was just trying to readjust the new reality. His old reality. A reality he hadn’t wanted to return.
“Is it about San?”
Yeosang looked at Wooyoung in alarm. Wooyoung sighed, but there was a small smile on his face.
“I thought it might be.” He said, “So, want to tell me about it?”
Yeosang worried a lip between his teeth, “I don’t…I’m not sure…”
“It doesn’t have to be perfect or even make sense,” Wooyoung said, “What are you thinking?”
Yeosang turned his thoughts in his head, “I…liked how I felt with him. When he was more…” He gestured in the air with his hands.
“All over you?” Wooyoung asked with a teasing lilt to his voice. Yeosang nodded. He could feel the tips of his ears starting to turn red.
When he didn’t say anything more, Wooyoung prompted, “Liked?”
He winced, “Maybe too much.”
Yeosang felt the bed shift next to him but he couldn’t bring himself to look at Wooyoung, embarrassment coloring his cheeks.
“Too much?”
Yeosang brought his feet up to his chest, looping his hands around his knees. “Too much.”
That had always been the problem, hadn’t it? He couldn’t reciprocate San’s affection because it meant too much. He couldn’t just say he loved him back because it was more than a casual statement to throw around for him.
Wooyoung hummed, breaking him out of his thoughts, “I think you should tell him.”
“What?” His head jerked up to look at Wooyoung. His best friend gave him a gentle smile.
“Tell him,” Wooyoung said, “Worst case, things stay like they are now. Best case, San liked it too much too.”
Yeosang’s eyebrows raised, “You think…?”
Wooyoung made a zipping motion across his lips, “Just give it a shot.”
Yeosang tried to imagine for a moment what would happen if he did give it a shot. If he walked up to San, all awkward with stumbling words, telling him he liked him like that. And San smiling and saying he felt the same. Awkward words and body language shifting into something comfortable. Hands intertwining as they walked down deserted streets. Small, subtle dates in the early hours of the morning. Warm kisses against his lips instead of his cheeks.
It felt right and exciting and warm. Like drinking hot chocolate on a snowy winter day, whipped cream sticking to his nose.
Fingers lightly flicked his neck.
“Ow!”
“Just trying to get you back with me,” Wooyoung teased, “But talk to him? Yeah?”
Yeosang thought of his vision of the future, a smile coming to his face outside of his control. He looked down at his hands, “...Yeah.”
“Okay!” Wooyoung clapped his hands together, “Movie time!”
“What?” Yeosang blinked.
Wooyoung pouted, “What’s the point of this cool rolling TV and bed, if we can’t do movie nights?”
Yeosang had to agree so he let Wooyoung pull him back against the bed. He let Wooyoung pick the movie and pull him into his side. And if he fell asleep with a cheek pressed against Wooyoung’s shoulder to the sound of Wooyoung’s shouts, feeling warm and loved, no one had to know.
--
It was one thing to talk to Wooyoung about talking to San. It was one thing to think about talking to San. It was another thing entirely to actually go up to San and ask to talk to him. San had only been inviting him along to dinners and activities with the whole group and with their schedules being what they were…it was hard to find a moment to breathe, let alone a good moment.
It took Wooyoung exactly one week of watching Yeosang walk within five feet of San in between shoots and practices and then give up before he took matters into his own hands. He dragged both of them into a practice room and then very suddenly had to take a phone call.
“Ah! I just forgot, I have to call my mom real fast,” He said, pulling his phone out of his pocket, “You two just get started without me.”
He gave Yeosang a threatening look that clearly said, This better be resolved when I come back, and walked out of the room.
San just shrugged and turned to Yeosang with a polite smile, “Warm up?”
Yeosang almost nodded but he stopped himself, “Ye – oh, um, no, wait?”
“What?” San chuckled. But he stopped and turned towards Yeosang.
Yeosang twisted his hands together, trying to figure out how to start this conversation. In all his imaginings, he hadn’t considered what this moment would actually be like. And what if San thought he was weird? His hands shook.
“Oh!” San’s hands covered his. He gently pulled his fingers apart, “What’s wrong?”
“I…um…” Yeosang cast around for a way, eyes fixed on their hands, “Why’d you…why’d you stop?”
“Stop? Stop what?” San’s voice was surprised. Yeosang looked at him, eyes flickering between San’s confused face and their hands. San’s fingers tightening around Yeosang’s, “Oh, that…well…I thought you didn’t like it?”
Yeosang shook his head, “I liked it.”
“Yeah?” There was a small note of something – hope, maybe? – in San’s voice. At least Yeosang hoped it was hope.
“Yeah.”
San pulled him close, until Yeosang’s face was against his shoulder, breathing in the clean scent of detergent still hanging on San’s shirt. He brought his hands around San’s back and melted into the hug. He’d missed this. The cold that had been clinging to him since San had…stopped, dissipated.
They just breathed like that for a moment. In and out. Until San pulled back. Yeosang didn’t let go though, just raised his head a little to look up at San.
“I liked it a lot.” His eyes flickered down to San’s lips and then back up to his eyes.
San’s eyes widened, mouth falling into an Oh . And then he smiled, bright and wide. His eyes darted down to Yeosang’s lips and then back up. One final question then. Blush high on his cheeks, Yeosang nodded and San moved to press their lips together.
Warmth spread through his whole body as he pressed into this kiss, eyes falling closed. San’s lips were soft against his and he almost whined when he pulled back.
“What about that?” San eyes were teasing.
Yeosang giggled, “I like that even more.”
San laughed and pulled him right back in.