Archive of Our Own

Yunho walked into the apartment, noting the absence of San’s sneakers at the front and sighed. It wasn’t the first time San was staying late at work, and it probably wouldn't be the last, either. He tossed his keys onto the table, not bothering to pick them up as they slid a little too far and off the edge, hitting the floor with a clink.

He walked into their bedroom and dropped his bag onto the ground unceremoniously before flopping onto the floor. It wasn’t comfortable, but neither was the idea of sleeping on his newly washed sheets in clothes that had collected probably every speck of dirt and dust his university campus had to offer.

His phone buzzed and he tiredly turned his head to check it, tilting it to face him with a weak lift of his wrist. 

Sannie ❤: sorry, forgot about some orders due tmr morning >_< - b back around 12:30?

Yunho locked the screen and let the phone fall out of his hand, clattering onto the wood floor. 

He and San had been together for two years now— the result of a shy confession from the latter after one of their shared classes. A few coffee dates and late-night videogame sessions later, they made it official and hadn't looked back since. 

Post-graduation, they moved out together, into a simple one-bed one-bath apartment close by their school. Yunho had continued on to go for a masters degree in a major he barely cared for.

In undergrad, he’d wanted to be a dance major, but his parents weren’t having it, and since they were paying for his education, he ended up as a business major with a dance minor. 

And now, he was doing his masters in financial economics. Whatever that meant.

San, on the other hand, went straight into the workforce, taking up a full time role as a florist.

“Really? You went through four years of college just to be a florist?” Yunho heard San’s parents ask over the phone. San took it off speaker and finished the rest of the conversation quickly.

Later, after a few rounds of Valorant, Yunho asked about it. 

“They’re just upset that I don't have like, an office job or something,” San rolled his eyes. “They never really approved of my choice as a writing and communications major— only got off my back because they assumed I’d do more with it. But the job market’s just way too rough right now, y’know? I gotta start earning money somehow.”

“Would you want to go back to school for a better chance? Get a masters with me.”

“In what?” San scoffed, “And with what money? No thanks. I’m sick of class, I just wanna move on with life and earn money. I like being a florist.”

But regardless of how much he liked being a florist, it wasn't the greatest source of income. After the first time he’d failed to pay his portion of the rent, he went and sought out part-time at a nearby restaurant, picking up the night time shifts after leaving the flower shop at 4PM.

Yunho had told him it was unnecessary, that he could cover rent for the both of them, but San insisted.

“Your parents give you money for rent, don't they? I’m not gonna have them ask why your roommate can't pay his share.”

“Honestly, I don't think they’d notice—”

“Absolutely not, Yuyu.”

Unfortunately, San’s working day didn't always end an hour before midnight. On occasion, he’d go back to the flower shop after closing up the restaurant to make preparations for the following day.

All of which to say, meant that San was almost never home, and therefore the apartment more often than not seemed a little too big for one person.

Yunho’s phone buzzed again. He didn't bother checking, assuming it was some follow-up on why his boyfriend was coming home at ungodly hours of the night for the third time that week. He didn't want to see it.

And then it buzzed again. Still not in the mood.

And again.

Concerned that San might actually need something, he unlocked the device and skimmed through his notifications.

010-XXX-XXXX: hey i finished my part of the slides u can work on yours now

010-XXX-XXXX: sorry its so late lol i got busy

010-XXX-XXXX: just make sure u submit b4 class tmr 

The phone was thrown across the room.

Yunho stayed on the floor for much longer than he probably should've before he finally picked himself up with a groan and forced himself to crack open his laptop. The slides in question were filled out with the bare minimum, if even that. When he opened up a news site to start his research, the headline “Man Charged with Murder after Deadly City Stabbing Spree” greeted him. 

Out of curiosity, he clicked on the article and gave it a quick skim. Supposedly, some guy pulled out kitchen knives on a subway and went to town. It was reported to be the second homicide of the week.

He resisted the urge to look up where his groupmate lived. Murder, he supposed, would not look good on his record to his future employers. 

By the time he finished the slides, it was just past one in the morning. Were they correct? Probably not, but they were done, and that was pretty much as high as the bar was going to go for him at that hour.

He leaned back in his chair and frowned at the time. Where the hell was San? Not that he had the greatest track record with time estimation, but he’d always send at least a text, if not straight up calling Yunho, if he wasn't going to make it home as planned.

Yunho retrieved his phone from the other side of the room and checked for updates. Nothing. 

You: hey, coming home soon?

He glared at the screen, as if staring hard enough at it would magically force his boyfriend to give him an update as to where he was and what he was up to.

After a few minutes passed with no reply, he swiped over to San’s contact and pressed call. He scowled as the call went to voicemail, tossing the phone onto bed.

Well. Might as well start studying.

He had a midterm the next day that he definitely should've started preparing for a week ago, but the threat of losing his Radiant status in Valorant had simply been too stressful to ignore. Maybe his priorities were a little questionable, but Yunho considered the limited days of his youth better spent in joy and not suffering through financial derivatives. There’d been past instances where Yunho would just cut his losses and go to bed early, but there was no way he’d be sleeping well not knowing if San was okay.

With his rank safe, boyfriend missing, and failing grade pending, Yunho didn't really have any more excuses left in his bank. He opened up his materials and began flipping through weeks’ worth of notes he didn't understand.

Despite his valiant efforts to study for once, he kept getting distracted. The low hum of the refrigerator, the whir of his laptop fans, the cars passing by on the street below, every little sound amplified his state of solitude in the apartment and gradually increased his irritation like some sort of sick torture chamber. What happened to San? What if he was hurt? Kidnapped? Crime was supposedly on the rise, right? Wasn’t there literally just some psycho stabbing?

He opened a new browser tab. 

You Searched: city stabbing victims

Fortunately, all of the victims were identified to be not-San.

You Searched: should i be worried if my boyfriend stopped responding and it's late?

If your boyfriend has stopped responding and it's late at night, it's reasonable to feel a little concerned; however, don't jump to conclusions without considering the situation first. He might be genuinely busy, asleep, experiencing a technical issue with his phone, or dealing with a personal situation that requires his full attention.

A personal situation that requires his full attention…like running for his life from a serial killer. Great.

He was in the middle of crafting his response plan for a hypothetical scenario in which he needed to pay international ransom to save San after he’d been drugged, kidnapped, and shipped abroad when the apartment front door opened. 

“Oh,” he said out loud to his screen, “You’re alive.”

“Hey,” the victim-in-theory’s voice called tiredly from the entrance, “You’re still up?” 

The question was well intentioned, but the nonchalance in his voice made Yunho’s skin itch unpleasantly after hours of worry had run him thin. He pinned the feeling on sleep deprivation and decided to be a pacifist instead. “Yeah,” he shrugged, turning to face San as he entered the room. “Finished up a group project due tomorrow and then finally started studying for my midterm tomorrow.”

“How’s that going?”

“The group project? Well. My part was dependent on my groupmate's part, which they left ‘till last minute, and also quite frankly I don’t think they did correctly either, but it’s due before class tomorrow and I don't have time anymore to work out whatever mistakes they made.” 

He made a face. “Well, that, and I probably wouldn't know how to fix it anyway. Which relates to how the studying is going. That is— not very well.”

“Ah, that sucks,” San replied absentmindedly, sounding more like he was talking to himself than to Yunho as he draped his jacket over his chair, “Everything that I don't miss about college. Very glad that's not me.”

Yunho balled his hand into a fist, closing his eyes for a second to control his rising temper. 

Don’t yell. Don’t yell. Breathe. Relax.

In, out.

In. Out. 

“How were your orders? I thought you said you were gonna be back at one? I texted and called but you never answered.”

“Shit, did you?” San patted his pockets in search of the device before remembering he put in his jacket. He tried to turn it on, and then realized the issue. “Sorry, I think my phone died,” he said, fishing his charger off the floor. “And yeah, they took longer than expected— I’m missing some ribbon too, I’ll probably have to go out early tomorrow to get some from the store or something.”

“Go out early?” Yunho repeated sharply. “It’s two in the morning right now. Are you even gonna sleep?”

San furrowed his brow in confusion. “...Yeah?" he said slowly. “Is everything okay? Why do you sound like that?”

“Sound like what?”

“Like you’re—Nothing,” he shook his head. “Nevermind.”

“No,” Yunho pushed, sparks of irritation flashing from his voice. Screw pacifism. “Like what?”

San blinked. “Like—Like that, ” he frowned. “Like you're mad at me for something. Are you mad at me?”

“I’m not,” Yunho lied, which might've been believable if he stopped there. But instead, he continued sarcastically, “Why would I be mad that my boyfriend doesn't seem to care that I was worried he might’ve been dead in a ditch?”

“Wh—I said my phone died, what? Why would I be dead in a ditch?”

Yunho ignored the question. “Don't you have a charger at the shop? Since you're there so late all the time?”

“I didn't realize until—Ugh, whatever, just drop it. I’m sorry for making you worry, okay?” He shook his head while removing his jewelry and muttered under his breath, “Why would you assume I was dead, the fuck?”

Despite the apology, San acting as though he’d gone off the deep end felt like he was trying to placate an irrational child. As if it was unreasonable to be worried about him and Yunho was overreacting. It pissed him off even more.

“What?” Yunho snapped. “Spit it out, what were you going to say?”

San took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Yunho, I’m too tired for this—”

“And I'm not? Again, it’s two in the morning and I'm still studying this crap I’m never going to understand.”

“Oh no,” San grit out, “you had to sit at your table and think for a few hours. Want to work two jobs instead? I’m all down to switch.”

“You don't have to work two jobs.”

San rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah?" he challenged, “And how am I gonna pay for rent if I don't?”

“I told you, my parents are fine with paying—”

San’s eyes lit up in anger. “Yunho, I’ve told you over and over, I don't want to rely on your parents’ money. They pay for your rent, your tuition, great, not my problem. I already don't like that you won't let me pay you back for groceries.” He yanked open a drawer to grab some clothes. The drawer slides shriek from the force.

Yunho got up out of his chair and walked over to him. “But why?" he pleaded, placing a hand on his shoulder, “You could be resting more. You clearly need it, you’ve been working yourself to the bone and—”

San spun around and shoved Yunho in the chest, hard. 

“God, when will it click for you that I’m working for myself?" he yelled. “That I went straight to work after graduation because I wanted to feel like I could actually do something with my life? Is it not enough that my parents call me every week to tell me to find a better job? Do you and your parents also just think my major was so shitty that I need your charity? I guess writing and communications just doesn't appeal like financial economics does—”

Yunho surged forward and grabbed a fistful of San’s shirt, hands shaking with rage. “You know I have zero issues with your major—” he spat, “and you know that this major is nowhere near my first fucking choice either. It’s not charity—God, I can't believe you’d even suggest that—I’m just trying to help —”

San grabbed his wrist and stared him down, eyes narrowed. “You know how you can help?" he hissed, “By letting me go and take this damn shower so I can finally lay the fuck down and go to sleep because I’ve been on my feet since seven in the morning and need to wake up in less than four hours.” 

Yunho stared back wordlessly for a few more seconds before releasing his shirt and backing away. San kicked his drawer shut, stalked off into the bathroom, and slammed the door. The sound echoed through the sudden silence of the apartment.

After a moment, the door opened a fraction of an inch, and was shut much more gently.

Yunho continued watching the door until he heard the shower turn on. Then, he haggardly stumbled back to his chair and slumped down in it. He glanced at his desk and picked up a small framed photo. 

It was a photo of the two of them on a couch, taken by a friend at some freshman year party Yunho didn't remember. Despite the fact that they weren't together yet, they were mid-conversation, smiling at each other like no one else was even in the room. Yunho received the photo by text shortly after they went official, followed by a “I knew there was something going on here ;)” 

Which was funny, because he asked San about it and apparently both of them were way too drunk to recall anything from that night. Either way, he liked the photo enough to print it and frame it.

Clearly, this was fate, San liked to tease him whenever he saw it. You can't resist me.

Remind me who asked who out? Yunho would quip back with a grin.

Yunho didn't even realize San was done with his shower until the latter was already walking across the room and sliding into bed. He didn't spare Yunho so much as a glance before he tucked himself under the covers and turned his back to him.

Yunho bit his lip, watching him. He debated on whether or not it was worth trying to resolve their fight right at that moment. They’d fought before, sure, but never quite so explosively and certainly never without extensive apologies in the form of cuddles directly following after.

He sighed. No more studying tonight, he supposed. 

He got up and crossed the room to turn off the lights. Looking back at the moonlight shining on San’s sleeping form, he wondered if he should even sleep by his side tonight. San needed rest and Yunho definitely wouldn't be doing anything except tossing and turning all night.

“Hey,” he said quietly into the darkness, “I’m sorry.” An olive branch. Testing the waters.

San didn't reply.

Yunho swallowed the lump forming in his throat and slipped into the living room. He lay down on the couch and stared up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. It would be okay. Tomorrow, they’d wake up, and everything would be okay. 

Right?

***

When Yunho woke up the next morning, San had already left. Which was terrible, because San never just left, not without saying goodbye. Even if Yunho was still asleep, he’d usually wake him up just to wish him a good day and tell him he’d be back that night. Sometimes Yunho would get a little grumpy if he’d been sleeping really well, but it’d all be quickly forgotten with a few kisses. If San ever thought Yunho needed the rest, he’d leave a cute sticky note message on Yunho’s forehead instead. 

There was no sticky note.

There was also no alarm to turn off, meaning Yunho had about ten minutes to dash across campus before his midterm started.

Needless to say, the midterm did not go well.

Yunho slipped out of the exam room and beelined to his favorite restaurant. He may have failed, but failure wasn't going to fill an empty stomach. He cleared the meal in under fifteen minutes and pulled his phone out to check the time. His next class was in twenty minutes, which meant in twenty minutes he’d get to sit there and learn about the ethics of the financial world for two and a half hours. 

Alternatively, he could skip and pay a visit to a certain flower shop. 

He flagged down the waitress. “Excuse me, can I get another one of these to go?”

Ten minutes later, with takeout in hand, he embarked on the half-hour hike over to the other side of town. As he walked into the shop, bells jingled above the doorway to announce his entry.

San turned around with a bright smile, “Hi! Welcome—”

His smile faltered, eyes immediately flickering into something like apprehension. It took everything in Yunho not to turn around and run out of the store in shame.

San tilted his head. “Don't…don't you have class?" he asked slowly. Cautiously.

“I… Yeah, maybe, but I wanted to stop by and um, get…give you lunch,” Yunho stumbled his way through the sentence awkwardly. He lifted the bag weakly.

San looked over at the smiley ‘Thank You’ plastered on the takeout bag, expression unreadable. 

“Oh. I…already ate lunch, though…”

The sentence hit like a sledgehammer to Yunho’s chest. Stupid. He was stupid. Of course San ate already. It was well past one. He couldn't have known Yunho was going to bring him lunch, because Yunho never did that and didn't bother texting him about it when he made the decision to do so half an hour ago.

“Sorry,” he blurted out, “this was dumb of me, I, uh… felt bad about last night. And um, wanted to apologize.”

San stared at him for a moment in silence before he let out a sigh. “Yunho, it’s fine,” he shook his head. “We were both tired, I said shit I didn't mean either.” He gestured to the countertop. “You can just leave the lunch here, I’ll eat it later before I go work my restaurant shift.”

“But it’ll be cold—”

The bells jingled to signal a new entry. San looked over Yunho’s shoulder with a forced smile. “Welcome to our flower shop! Feel free to look around and let me know if you have any questions.” The sentence was clearly planned and polished. Rehearsed and executed a hundred times. Simple. Easy.

What wasn't easy was watching the smile disappear when San looked back at him. 

“Sorry, I should get back to work— let’s talk later, okay?" he mumbled, tearing away before Yunho could answer, leaving the taller man dumbfounded at the counter.

With no other choice, Yunho walked out of the store. The chilly autumn breeze was stronger than he’d anticipated, but it didn't stop him from taking several detours on the way home. Walking was his go-to de-stressor, the best way for him to clear his head and quite literally get away from his problems. There was more than one occasion in which he'd started his walk in the middle of the day and didn't even realize how long he'd been out until the sun was setting. 

By the time he got home, he could feel the exhaustion gripping at his bones. It dragged him onto the couch and then vaporized whatever little willpower he had left to move, rendering him into jelly. He felt his phone buzz.

Sannie ❤ : almost done w work, coming home soon

Yunho closed his eyes, letting the phone slip out of his hand and clatter onto the floor. 

 ***

San took a deep breath before he unlocked the door to their apartment, unsure of how Yunho would act when he entered. The previous night had been a train wreck. Then, in the morning, he’d woken up to no Yunho, panicked, grabbed his phone, saw the time, realized he’d passed out so fast and so hard that he’d slept through his alarm, and doubled his panic. 

Although he’d been pissed when he went to sleep, he had to admit, after some rest he couldn't really remember what was worth getting that angry over. As he rushed out into the living room and threw his shoes on, he’d seen Yunho curled on the couch and his heart sank. 

Was he really that angry? 

He’d thought about it as he ran to work— surely he hadn't said anything that bad, right? Maybe the shove had been a little much. But thinking about the whole thing did remind him in better clarity what was said in the fight, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. 

He’d spent the better part of the morning debating on whether it was on him to send an apology text when Yunho had suddenly just…shown up. With food. And an apology.

And okay, maybe the free food did influence his path to forgiveness a little, but could anyone really blame him?

But Yunho had run out of the store so quickly that it was hard to tell if he’d just apologized because he felt like it’d be the right thing to do. It wouldn't have been a surprise given Yunho’s track record of putting his feelings aside to please others. God only knew how many individual dates he’d gone on just to avoid embarrassing the people confessing to him.

San slowly pushed open the door and, upon lack of immediate pushback, walked inside and kicked off his shoes. He saw Yunho asleep on the couch, long limbs dangling off the edge, a continuation of the Yunho that he saw this morning. In fact, had he not shown up to the shop with takeout, San might've worried that he never woke up at all and slept through the day.

He crept closer and set down a bouquet of flowers on the coffee table. Yunho would see them first thing when he woke and then surely all would be forgiven. As he tiptoed away in hopes of escaping to their room to delay the inevitable confrontation, he heard Yunho shift awake on the couch.

“Mmm…San-ah?”

Inevitable, indeed. 

“Hey,” he fumbled, trying to act like he’d intended to stay the whole time. He tripped on the rug as he tried to make his way over to the sofa. It drew a light chuckle out of the other man, half-awake from his nap. San sat down next to him, and almost immediately, Yunho moved to rest his head in his lap. “You okay?” San asked gently.

“Um.” Yunho turned to bury his face in San’s stomach, nose tickling his abdomen. “Not really.”

San stroked his hair. “You wanna talk about it?” Then, when no reply came, “Are you still mad at me?”

Yunho stilled in his lap. “Am I still mad?" he repeated, confused. 

“Yeah?”

“Why would you think I'm mad at you? You're the one who's mad at me.”

San blinked. “Yunho. You slept on the couch last night.”

“I didn't want to wake you!" he yelped defensively. “I wasn't going to sleep well—Anyway, you didn't wake me up this morning to say goodbye, so it's pretty obvious you're upset.”

“That's ‘cause I woke up late and didn't know where you were until I was leaving—I thought you went somewhere else entirely.”

“Why would I do that?” Yunho pouted. “You still could've texted…”

San furrowed his brow. “I mean, I guess, but I was too surprised—plus, I was worried you were still mad at me, I’m not gonna text you like nothing happened. Or bring it up over text.”

“You were so disappointed to see me when I stopped by, too—”

“No, again, surprised—”

“No, I saw your smile drop—”

“Why are you arguing with me like you want me to be mad at you?” San bristled. “Didn't I tell you hours ago it was fine?”

“I’m not—” Yunho bit his lip to stop himself from arguing further. “Of course I don't want you to be mad at me. It's just— I don't know,” he fidgeted, voice quieting down. “I feel like you should be."

He looked up at San. “But if you're not mad, and I’m not mad, then why does it feel like we're still fighting?”

“Well, we were fighting,” San shrugged, “and now, we’re not. Simple.” He poked Yunho’s cheek in emphasis.

Yunho opened his mouth in protest, but San gently lifted his head off his lap and got up to head towards the kitchen.

“D'you want anything to drink? How was the midterm?”

Yunho rolled onto his back with a sigh. This was not the hill he wanted to die on. “Do we have any vodka?" he deadpanned.

San raised an eyebrow, but opened the fridge to check anyway. “Nope. Best I can do for you is soju.”

Yunho groaned. “Not good enough, but I’ll take it.”

San grabbed a bottle and two glasses. “Exam was that bad, huh?”

“Don't even get me started. I don't even think a miracle could get me a passing grade.” He forced himself up into a sitting position, leaning forward to grab a glass as San cracked the bottle open. “God Himself could come down and bless those papers and I’d still fail.”

Guilt sat heavy in San's chest. The notion that their fight from the previous night might have affected Yunho's performance gnawed at him. Yunho had always had terrible test anxiety, mainly driven by his parents’ demand for perfect grades. It wasn't unusual for him to stay up late studying in an effort to grasp material he didn't care for, but worrying about the whereabouts of his boyfriend probably hadn't helped. 

“I'm sure it wasn't that bad,” San said quietly as he poured the soju out, but the waver in his voice didn't go unnoticed. 

Yunho looked over at him with surprise. “Hey, are you okay?” He leaned in closer, eyes peering at San’s. “Are you crying? What's wrong?”

San sniffled, quickly swiping at his eyes with his sleeve. He averted his gaze. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “It’s—it’s my fault. It's because we fought yesterday right? I’m sorry.”

“What?” Yunho instantly abandoned his glass on the table, arms quickly wrapping around San, pulling him towards his chest. San didn't resist the movement, but made no effort to return the gesture. He just stared at his glass in shame.

“What are you talking about?” Yunho asked. “No— I mean, sure, it was on my mind, but I started studying way too late for that midterm. Like, tragically late. After the party ended late. Forty dollar fee for missing your credit card payment by a single day late.”

“It's forty dollars? That's heinous.”

“Right? There's a reason I have automatic payments enabled now. Anyways, point is, I was doomed from the start. It's not your fault.”

“Yeah, but if I didn't argue with you—”

“I'm the one that picked the fight, San. My paranoid ass said a lot of hurtful shit I didn't mean, too—no, shut up,” he snipped as San turned in his arms to counter, “It was wrong of me. I know why you want to work and support yourself and I didn't mean to undermine all of that, it’s just…I miss seeing you, you know? You're always working, always tired… And I know it’s selfish of me but if I could gain even an extra hour of your time, give you an hour of rest…” He trailed off, then shook his head. “No, but even then, it's wrong of me to control what you do with your time. I didn't mean to come off as belittling you.”

He tightened the hug and buried his face in San’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry,” he finished lamely. “Even if you really aren't mad at me, you deserve better.”

San was staring at him with a mix of fondness and exasperation on his face after he finished. The thought that Yunho’s initial apology in the shop might've been insincere felt like the punchline to a joke from a lifetime ago. “Are you done?”

Yunho nodded.

San took a deep breath and carefully extracted himself from Yunho's arms. He put his hands on the taller man's shoulders and looked him in the eyes.

“The stuff you said— did it hurt? Yeah.”

Yunho lowered his eyes, but said nothing. San leaned their foreheads together.

“But do I think you meant it to? No.” He pressed a soft kiss to Yunho’s trembling lips, the corner of his lips quirking upwards as his boyfriend's frame relaxed a little. “We were just stressed last night, Yunho. I wasn't nicest to you either. You've always had my back whenever my parents give me shit for my major and I'm really grateful for that.”

He brought his hand up, gently cradling the back of Yunho’s head. He stroked his thumb along the strands of hair. Yunho closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, the warmth of his steady hand calming him into quietude. 

“I know you mean well, but we can figure it out together, okay? Here,” he said, picking the bouquet of flowers off the table and setting them into Yunho’s confused hands. “I brought these home for you. Sorry again for last night.”

Yunho looked down at the flowers, and then back up at him. “For me?” he repeated dumbly.

San’s chest tightens at the look of doubt on his face. “Yes, you. Who else?”

Yunho turned the flowers over in his hands a few times, admiring the vibrancy of the fresh petals. 

“Alcohol and flowers,” Yunho nodded solemnly. His voice was thick with emotion, but the smile fought through on his lips. “Sounds like the start of a good date. Let's add some games to the mix,” he said, “I didn't fail that midterm just to drop my rank, too.”

He leaned forward and looped his arms around San’s neck, slotting their mouths together for a deeper kiss. Yunho felt like home, warm lips soft against San's own and effortlessly loving with each breath. San could almost hear his thoughts with each kiss. I missed you. Breath. I want you. Breath. I love you.

Even after Yunho pulled back with a blinding smile, San couldn’t resist chasing after him for more. If Yunho was a field of flowers, San was the butterfly that was helplessly attracted to them. So when Yunho grabbed his hand and dragged him to their room to game, who was he to argue?

As they played, San was pleased to see Yunho’s energy seep back into him with each fight.

“Fuck—I almost had him!”

“Go, go, go, all in, now!”

“Did you see that shot? Holy shit, I can’t believe that hit!”

He laughed loudly and turned to glance at San with a beaming smile, eyes wide with excitement. San’s heart lurched at the sight, continuing to look at him even when he turned his attention back to the game. He wanted to keep his eyes on Yunho forever, to pluck those brief moments of joy out of the cold, cruel world and press them into a scrapbook as if they were the most precious flowers the universe had to offer. If Yunho ever got sad again, he’d just open up the book of memories and shove it back in his face until he wasn't.

“Hey, hey, watch out, behind you!”

Six wins in a row later, Yunho was glowing. It suited him. 

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” he laughed, tossing off his headset. “I can’t believe—Wow. I’m not pushing my luck any further. Jesus Christ, where was this luck for my midterm? Was that for real?”

“It’s very real,” San promised, pushing himself away from his desk. “Just as real as the hours of sleep we’re about to get.”

“Oh, shit.” Yunho snapped his eyes to the lower corner of his monitor. 3:07 AM. “Fuck, why didn’t you say something sooner? Aren’t you tired? You've been up since like, seven! You should’ve gone to bed hours ago, you’re going to be exhausted tom—why are you smiling at me like that?”

It was cute, how worried Yunho got the moment he realized how late it was. Endearing, even. San felt oddly comforted by the knowledge that a six-game win streak was no match for his well-being on Yunho’s priority list, even if it had distracted him for a bit.

“What, can’t a guy smile at his boyfriend?”

“I’m serious, San.”

“So am I,” San sing-songed as he headed off to the bathroom. “We’re gonna get some real sleep tonight.”

Yunho got up and followed him. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed as he watched San brush his teeth. “How?” he demanded. “Don’t you need to get up in like, four hours?”

San just smiled at him in the mirror, toothbrush in mouth. A bit of toothpaste dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. Yunho grabbed his own toothbrush and joined him with a sigh, wrapping an arm around his waist and hooking his chin over his shoulder like an overgrown puppy.

They had a miniature staring contest in the mirror, but Yunho was no match for the mischievous sparkle in San’s gaze. Admitting defeat, he closed his eyes and relaxed against him. The exhaust fan hummed away in the background.

Once they were under the safety of their blanket, laying side by side, San finally spoke.

“I took tomorrow off.”

“Huh? Why? Your PTO isn’t—you don’t have a lot left, right? What’s so special about tomorrow?”

“Our anniversary?”

San said it so casually that Yunho froze for a second in panic before smacking San’s shoulder and shoving him away. “No it’s not, you asshole,” he says over San’s immediate peal of laughter. “You really made me second guess myself there. No way I’d forget something like that. Seriously, why the time off?”

San stretched his arms out above his head with a yawn before snuggling himself into Yunho’s chest. “Got you,” he giggled sleepily. Even in the dark, Yunho could hear the shit-eating grin on his face. Annoying. He loved him anyway. 

“Yes, you did,” Yunho rolled his eyes. He slowly combed his fingers through San’s hair. “So?”

“I have an interview tomorrow afternoon.”

Yunho’s hand stopped moving. San let out a soft whine and shifted his head slightly in protest. The motion continued.

“What?” Yunho murmured. “For what role?” The hand slowed as he started to piece the information together. “Is this about what I said last night?”

San scoffed. “You think I got an interview in less than a day? I’m flattered.”

“I dunno, maybe you’re just that good.”

“If I was that good, I’d already have a better job.”

“I guess you just needed to level up first?”

San pointedly ignored the comment. “Anyway, it’s for some marketing role at a small company. Assistant, at that. Nothing too exciting but…” he trailed off. Yunho, ever the saint, waited patiently for him to finish his sentence. “It’s looking good,” he admitted quietly, afraid to jinx it.

Yunho rested his mouth on the crown of San’s head. “How long have you been searching? Is this your first interview?”

“Contrary to popular belief, I never really stopped. Slowed a little when I took on the restaurant maybe, but…it's not like I like working this many hours. I’ve wanted out since I started.”

His response was met with silence. San pulled back a little to see if he had fallen asleep, but Yunho quickly tightened his arms, drawing him back into his shoulder.

“Yunho?” 

“I’m fine,” Yunho said, the sound sadly muffled into his hair. “I just—" he swallowed, “I…feel bad. I didn't know, I’m sorry. I should've asked or something—” 

San shushed him and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Don't be sorry. I wouldn't have told you, anyway. I was hoping to surprise you. I usually took my interviews during my lunch break.”

Yunho hummed in understanding. Then, “I thought you liked being a florist?”

“I do. I'll probably take up a little part time with it, maybe a few hours on the weekend? Nothing crazy,” he sighed, “Life'll be more stable this way. More sustainable. Better hours than what I have now.” 

“The bar is in hell,” Yunho reminded him flatly.

That drew a laugh out of San, who slipped his arms around the other man’s torso and squeezed gently. “You’re not the only one who misses his boyfriend, you know. Why do you think I took the entire day off for a single interview?”

“I didn't even know how you were doing your interviews before until just now.”

“Yeah, yeah, well, now you do. And now you know I took the entire day off so we can spend it—well, most of it— doing whatever we want.”

“Guess I’m skipping class again.”

“Your class is at 3PM, right? Guess what time my interview is.”

“Wow,” Yunho whistled. “You're good. Planned it all out and everything, huh?’

“Mmhm,” San hummed smugly, “Everything except what we do with our time.”

Yunho yawned. “Sounds like a tomorrow problem.”

“A late-morning problem,” San added happily. 

And just a little after three in the morning, the two of them finally fell asleep, warm in each others’ arms. Tomorrow could wait.