Opposites Attract

San was a rule-follower—polite, responsible, and just a little too innocent for his own good. Wooyoung, on the other hand, was a menace. The kind of boyfriend who whispered filthy things in public just to see San turn red, who sent scandalous texts during his lectures, knowing he couldn’t react.
Every day was a battle between San’s dignity and Wooyoung’s shamelessness. And somehow, against all odds, San found himself falling harder—until he wasn’t just enduring Wooyoung’s antics anymore. He was playing along.

Notes:

just lives of himbo guy with his flirty boyfriend

Work Text:

A Public Menace

San had always been a rule follower. A straight-laced, golden-hearted, morally-upright citizen. The kind of guy who helped old ladies carry groceries, returned wallets with all the cash untouched, and still said "bless you" even when someone sneezed three times in a row.

Wooyoung, on the other hand, was a menace to society.

The type to whisper filthy things in a library just to watch San choke on his coffee. The kind to text incredibly inappropriate messages during San’s lectures, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to react without turning beet red. The sort of boyfriend who had no shame—absolutely zero shame—when it came to publicly making San squirm.

Which is why, when San walked into the bustling campus café, innocent and unsuspecting, he should have been prepared for whatever nonsense Wooyoung had planned for him.

He wasn’t.

San had just finished his morning workout, hair slightly damp, skin glowing from sweat, muscles deliciously pumped from weight training. He was the picture of wholesomeness—an absolute golden retriever of a man, with bright eyes and a blindingly charming smile.

Wooyoung, sitting at their usual corner table, watched him approach with a wicked smirk curling on his lips. His boyfriend was too good for this world, and that meant it was his divine duty to corrupt him.

San didn’t notice the gleam of mischief in Wooyoung’s eyes—he was too busy balancing his protein shake, phone, and a ridiculous amount of snacks he had picked up from the counter.

“Hey, babe,” San greeted with his usual sunshine voice, plopping down into the chair across from Wooyoung. “I got you your usual!”

“Thanks, love,” Wooyoung purred, accepting the drink but making zero moves to actually sip it. Instead, his gaze flickered over San’s flushed skin and damp collarbones. “You look hot.”

San beamed, ever oblivious. “Thanks! I just finished lifting, so I’m kinda sweaty.”

Wooyoung leaned in, eyes darkening. “Yeah? Maybe I should help you get even sweatier.”

San, mid-chew, froze.

His brain, ever the innocent worker bee, immediately short-circuited. “What?”

Wooyoung’s grin widened. “We could ditch this café and really get your heart rate up.”

“...You mean, like… running?”

“Oh, baby.” Wooyoung sighed dramatically, resting his chin on his palm. “You are so, so precious.”

San’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. He might have been naïve, but he knew that tone. It was the same voice Wooyoung used when he whispered inappropriate things in his ear while pretending to help him study. “...What exactly are you suggesting?”

“Just a bit of extra cardio,” Wooyoung said smoothly, running his fingers along the rim of his coffee cup. “Something that’ll really work those… muscles.”

San chewed his lower lip, deep in thought. “Huh. I guess I have been skipping leg day…”

Wooyoung nearly lost it right then and there.

God, his boyfriend was too much. Too pure. Too stupidly adorable. It was almost criminal.

Unable to help himself, Wooyoung leaned in, lowering his voice to a sultry whisper. “I wasn’t talking about the gym, sweetheart.”

San blinked at him.

Then blinked again.

Then—realization dawned.

“OH MY GOD.” San recoiled so fast, he nearly knocked over his protein shake. “YOU CRAZY PERVERT! WE’RE IN PUBLIC!”

Wooyoung cackled. “Well,” he shrugged, “we are dating publicly.”

San looked personally victimized. “THAT IS NOT THE SAME THING, YOU DEVIL.”

Wooyoung waggled his eyebrows. “You didn’t seem to mind when I was whispering filth into your ear at that gala last week.”

“That was different! That was a mistake!”

“You say that, but I distinctly remember you grabbing my—”

San lunged across the table, slapping a hand over Wooyoung’s mouth before he could finish that sentence.

“Oh my god, shut up! People are listening!” San hissed, eyes darting wildly to the nearby tables, where a group of students were definitely staring at them with varying levels of amusement and horror.

Wooyoung, undeterred, licked San’s palm.

San screamed.

Thirty minutes later, San was still grumbling as they walked across campus, Wooyoung practically bouncing beside him with smug satisfaction.

“I can’t believe you licked me,” San muttered, arms crossed like a scolded puppy.

Wooyoung snorted. “Oh, please. It was barely a taste.”

“I should break up with you.”

Wooyoung gasped, placing a hand over his heart like he had been gravely wounded. “You would leave me? After everything we’ve been through?”

“Yes.”

“After I spent months wooing you?”

“Years of emotional torment, actually.”

“And after I single-handedly carried our duet performance last month?”

San scoffed. “You were off-key!”

“HOW DARE—”

San shoved him lightly, but there was no real force behind it. Wooyoung caught his wrist, intertwining their fingers as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

San sighed, already knowing he’d lost this argument before it even began. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me.”

“…Jury’s still out on that one.”

Wooyoung smirked, tugging him closer. “Mmm, I don’t know… If you really wanted to break up with me, you wouldn’t still be holding my hand.”

San turned bright red but refused to let go.

Wooyoung, satisfied with his victory, leaned up to whisper one last thing in his ear.

“By the way,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement. “I wasn’t joking about that extra cardio offer.”

San shoved him so hard Wooyoung nearly fell into a bush.

But even as he yelped dramatically, all he could think was: God, I love this dumbass.

---

"Out of My League"

San knew he wasn’t the most exciting person.

He followed the rules, got good grades, and never got into trouble. His friends loved to joke that he was too pure for this world, and honestly? They weren’t wrong. He’d never really questioned it before. Never thought it was a problem.

Until Wooyoung.

Wooyoung, who could flirt his way out of a parking ticket.

Wooyoung, who whispered sinful things in broad daylight.

Wooyoung, who was a walking, talking hazard to San’s entire existence.

San loved him, of course. How could he not? But sometimes… sometimes, he wondered if Wooyoung deserved someone more like him.

And unfortunately, today was one of those times.

It started out like a normal date. San and Wooyoung were sitting in their usual spot at the campus café, San sipping on his protein shake while Wooyoung shamelessly stole fries off his plate.

San didn’t even try to stop him anymore. He had long since accepted that his food wasn’t really his when Wooyoung was around.

“Are you seriously eating all of my fries?” San asked, raising an eyebrow as Wooyoung popped another one into his mouth.

Wooyoung chewed thoughtfully. “No.”

San gave him a flat look.

“Okay, fine, yes,” Wooyoung admitted, completely unbothered. “But in my defense, you ordered too many, and I’m preventing food waste. You should be thanking me.”

San snorted. “You literally asked if we should get another basket two minutes ago.”

Wooyoung gasped dramatically. “How dare you bring up the past?”

San rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at his lips. No matter how much Wooyoung got on his nerves, he always managed to make him laugh.

They were in the middle of a ridiculous argument about whether or not Wooyoung could, in fact, eat an entire cheesecake by himself when Wooyoung suddenly leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. His eyes flickered over San’s face with a look San had grown all too familiar with—one that meant trouble.

“You look good today,” Wooyoung said, voice smooth.

San blinked, caught off guard. “Uh. Thanks?”

Wooyoung tilted his head, his smirk deepening. “No, like… really good. Post-workout glow, muscles looking all tight—”

San groaned. “Wooyoung.”

“—that cute little flush on your cheeks,” Wooyoung continued, undeterred. “Like you just—”

San reached across the table and smacked a hand over his boyfriend’s mouth. “Do not finish that sentence.”

Wooyoung’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he licked San’s palm.

San recoiled so fast he almost knocked over his drink. “Oh my God! What is wrong with you?”

Wooyoung cackled, stealing another fry while San wiped his hand aggressively on a napkin. “Don’t act like you don’t love it, babe.”

“You’re insane.”

“And you’re still dating me.”

San groaned, slumping back in his chair. “I should’ve broken up with you when I had the chance.”

Wooyoung smirked. “Please. You’d miss me in, like, two hours.”

San hated that he wasn’t wrong.

They kept bickering between bites of food, their conversation flowing as effortlessly as it always did.

Wooyoung teased him about his rigid gym schedule (“Babe, I love you, but you need to relax. You’re one protein shake away from becoming a motivational poster.”), while San made fun of Wooyoung’s terrible sleep habits (“Four hours of sleep and an energy drink is not a morning routine, Wooyoung.”).

It was easy, comfortable.

And then a familiar voice called his name.

San turned, spotting Yunho at the entrance, clutching his drink and looking slightly out of place.

Yunho had always been one of San’s closest friends—sweet, friendly, normal. Someone who didn’t constantly make him question his own sanity.

Out of politeness, San waved him over.

“Hey, Yunho! You wanna sit with us?”

Yunho hesitated, looking between them before nodding shyly. “Uh—if you don’t mind?”

San smiled, hoping—maybe a little too optimistically—that his friend and boyfriend would hit it off. “Of course not! This is Wooyoung, by the way. My boyfriend.”

Wooyoung, ever the social butterfly, grinned and reached out a hand. “Nice to meet you! Any friend of San’s is a friend of mine.”

Yunho shook his hand with a chuckle. “Yeah, same! San talks about you a lot.”

San felt a flicker of relief. That was a good start, right? He had always wanted his closest friend and his boyfriend to get along. Maybe, if they clicked, they could even start hanging out together—bridge the gap between the different parts of his life.

He expected a simple exchange. Some casual small talk—Hey, what’s your major? Do you like sports? Maybe a couple of polite laughs.

That was not what happened.

The moment Yunho and Wooyoung locked into conversation, San knew he had made a terrible mistake.

Turns out, Yunho and Wooyoung vibed way too well.

At first, it was innocent enough—casual small talk about classes, campus events, and mutual friends. Yunho, being the effortlessly friendly guy he was, matched Wooyoung’s energy with ease, and Wooyoung, being the social menace that he was, had no trouble pulling him into his orbit.

“Oh, you had Professor Kim for econ?” Yunho asked, shaking his head with a laugh. “Dude, I swear, that man hates me.”

“You? No way,” Wooyoung gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “You seem way too golden-boy for that.”

“Nah, for real! I got called out twice for yawning in his class. Just yawning!”

Wooyoung snorted. “Okay, yeah, he does that. I had him last semester, and he once spent twenty minutes roasting some guy for tapping his pen too loudly. Said it was ‘disrupting the natural balance of the classroom’ or some nonsense.”

“That sounds about right.” Yunho chuckled, then tilted his head. “Wait, so are you in business, too?”

“Nah, performing arts,” Wooyoung replied. “Dancing, singing, making people fall in love with me—San is my biggest fan.”

San, who had been peacefully sipping his shake, choked. “That is not true.”

“Aw, babe, no need to be shy about it.” Wooyoung winked at him. “He has a whole album of my performances saved on his phone. Sometimes I catch him watching them before bed.”

“That’s because you force me to,” San deadpanned.

Yunho grinned. “Sounds like you two have a system.”

“Oh, we do.” Wooyoung smirked, leaning forward like he was about to reveal a grand secret. “San pretends to be all exasperated with me, but deep down, he’s obsessed.”

“I am not,” San muttered, already regretting letting the two of them meet.

Yunho laughed, clearly entertained by their dynamic. “Man, this is great. You’re hilarious.”

Wooyoung beamed. “I know, right? Glad you see it.”

San had been so close to feeling relieved. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe Yunho and Wooyoung would just joke around, talk about normal things, and he could enjoy a peaceful afternoon without wanting to crawl under the table.

Then, somehow, they landed on that topic.

It started innocently—just another casual shift in conversation.

“So, what’s the wildest thing you’ve ever overheard on campus?” Yunho asked.

Wooyoung’s eyes lit up with dangerous amusement. “Oh, you wouldn’t believe the things I’ve heard people say during—”

“Wait.” Yunho leaned in, intrigued. “During what?”

San, suddenly sensing the impending disaster, opened his mouth to intervene—but it was too late.

“Sex,” Wooyoung finished, completely unbothered. “People say the dumbest stuff in bed.”

Yunho nearly spat out his drink. Then, to San’s absolute horror, he burst out laughing.

“No way, you’ve actually heard something like that?” Yunho asked, eyes bright with amusement.

Wooyoung nodded, grinning. “Oh, yeah. I have a whole list.”

San blinked. What just happened?

Now, Yunho wasn’t usually the type to engage in these kinds of conversations—San had known him for years, and he’d never been the raunchy joke guy.

But apparently, Wooyoung had unlocked something deep within him, because within minutes, the conversation had derailed into outright filth.

“No, but seriously,” Wooyoung continued, laughing. “Imagine someone calling you ‘Mommy’ mid—”

“STOP.”

San slammed his hands over his ears, face burning red. “WE’RE IN PUBLIC.”

Yunho was wheezing. “Wait, wait—someone actually said that?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Wooyoung said, nodding sagely. “And it gets worse. You would not believe the number of people who call their partners ‘Boss’ in bed. Like, do you want a raise or an orgasm?”

San let out a strangled noise of despair. “WOOYOUNG.”

Yunho was gone, clutching his stomach as he tried to breathe between fits of laughter. “No, but now I have to know more. What’s the worst one?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Wooyoung said immediately. He leaned in conspiratorially, like he was about to reveal top-secret information. “One time, I heard someone—dead serious—say, ‘give me that vitamin D.’”

San’s soul left his body.

Yunho actually fell off his chair.

San groaned into his hands, trying to will himself into another dimension. “I hate both of you.”

“No, you don’t,” Wooyoung said sweetly, patting San’s shoulder. “You love us.”

San looked up, dead inside. “I don’t even know you.”

Yunho, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, finally sat up again. “Dude, I am so glad we met.”

Wooyoung grinned. “Right? This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

San sighed, already regretting every decision that led him to this moment.

This was not what he had hoped for.

Yunho snorted. “Oh, come on, San, don’t be shy.”

“I am shy! And you two are menaces!”

Wooyoung, entirely unbothered, patted his arm. “Relax, baby. We’re just having fun.”

San sulked, trying desperately to block out the conversation, but their words kept slipping through. Every time Wooyoung talked about stuff like this, San lost every ounce of brain function he had.

But the worst part?

Wooyoung looked so happy.

Laughing, teasing, going back and forth with Yunho without a single trace of hesitation. It was so effortless. So natural.

So not how it was with him.

Because when San was the one hearing these things, he always ended up flustered, tongue-tied, and desperately searching for a way to change the subject. He could never match Wooyoung’s energy, never tease him back properly. He always surrendered to his own embarrassment.

And now, watching Wooyoung banter so easily with Yunho, the thought crept in like an unwelcome guest.

Would he be happier with someone like that?

Someone who could actually keep up with him? Someone who didn’t burn up at the mere mention of anything remotely suggestive? Someone who wouldn’t just sit here, awkward and silent, like San was doing right now?

His heart ached at the thought.

San barely spoke for the rest of their café visit.

Wooyoung and Yunho kept talking, clearly enjoying themselves, but San felt like an outsider to his own date. The more they laughed, the more he sunk into his thoughts.

By the time Yunho left with a cheerful “See you guys later!”, San was deep in his feelings.

Wooyoung turned back to him with a smile. “That was fun! Your friend’s cool.”

San forced a nod, his chest feeling unbearably tight. “Yeah. You two seemed to… get along well.”

Wooyoung tilted his head, catching the shift in his tone. “You okay?”

San hesitated.

He didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to sound jealous or needy or like he was insecure about something stupid.

But the words slipped out anyway.

“Do you… ever get tired of me?”

Wooyoung blinked, caught completely off guard. “What?”

San swallowed hard, staring at the table. “I mean… I know I’m not really the flirty type. I don’t know how to joke about that kind of stuff. And you… you clearly vibe with people who do.” He fiddled with his straw, voice dropping lower. “I just wonder if you’d be happier with someone else. Someone more like you.”

For a moment, there was silence.

Then—

Wooyoung burst out laughing.

San’s face flamed. “I’m being serious—”

Wooyoung grabbed his hands, squeezing them tight. “San, baby, love of my life—you think I want someone else just because I talked about raunchy jokes with Yunho for an hour?”

San shifted uncomfortably. “I mean…”

Wooyoung shook his head, still grinning. “San, I love flustering you. Watching you get all shy and squirmy is my favorite thing in the world.” He smirked, voice dipping into a teasing lilt. “If anything, Yunho’s too easy. He keeps up with me, sure, but you? You get all cute and pouty, and I love that.”

San blinked, ears turning pink. “I-I don’t pout—”

“You totally do.” Wooyoung cupped his cheeks, pressing a quick, playful kiss to his nose. “You being a flustered, golden-hearted himbo is literally what makes you you. And that’s exactly who I’m in love with.”

San’s chest swelled with warmth. “Really?”

Wooyoung scoffed. “Baby. I don’t want someone who can keep up with me—I want you. You’re my big, soft, wholesome himbo boyfriend, and I wouldn’t trade you for anything.”

San’s lips twitched. “Not even for someone who can actually talk about—”

Wooyoung cut him off with a kiss.

By the time he pulled away, San was red-faced, dazed, and incapable of further questioning.

“Point made?” Wooyoung smirked.

San, breathless, nodded.

And just like that, his worries melted away.

---

Himbo Boyfriend

San didn’t understand why Wooyoung was suddenly dragging him away like a mother snatching her child from a toy store.

One second, he was chatting with his classmate Jason about cooking. The next, Wooyoung had appeared out of nowhere, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him far from the conversation, leaving Jason blinking in confusion.

Now, Wooyoung stood in front of him, arms crossed, a look of absolute betrayal on his face.

San frowned. “What?”

Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed. “What were you talking about with that guy?”

San blinked at him. “Jason? Oh, he just asked me to help him with cooking. He needed advice on preparing a dish for his girlfriend or something.”

He shrugged, completely oblivious to the way Wooyoung’s expression darkened.

Wooyoung sighed, dragging a palm down his face as if physically pained by San’s answer. “San,” he said slowly, voice dripping with exasperation. “With the look on that guy’s face, the dish he’s talking about is probably you.”

San tilted his head, confused. “Huh?”

Wooyoung threw his hands up. “I’m surprised you can take other people’s flirting but not mine!”

San gawked at him. “Flirting? What flirting? Jason wasn’t—” He stopped at Wooyoung’s unimpressed stare.

“San,” Wooyoung said, tone dry. “Did you not notice how he kept touching your hand every time you spoke?”

San blinked. “Wha—when?”

Then it hit him.

Oh.

That motherfucker.

Memories clicked into place like puzzle pieces he had been too dumb to assemble in the moment.

The way Jason had leaned in a little too closely. The way his fingers had grazed San’s wrist when he laughed at something dumb San said. The way his smile had lingered just a bit too long.

Oh my God.

Jason had been flirting with him.

And San, in his pure, utter stupidity, had helped him pick a dish to impress his girlfriend—who probably didn’t even exist.

“Oh,” San said again, horrified.

Wooyoung scoffed. “Finally, he gets it.”

San’s face burned. “B-But—he said he had a girlfriend!”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes so hard San thought he might sprain something. “Yeah, and I have you. That didn’t stop me from flirting with Yunho at the café the other day, did it?”

San pursed his lips. “…Fair point.”

Wooyoung sighed dramatically. “Seriously, baby, how do you not see when people flirt with you?”

San mumbled under his breath, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know… I don’t really think about that stuff.”

Wooyoung stared at him, exasperated beyond words. Then, after a moment, his expression changed.

A slow, dangerous smirk spread across his lips.

San gulped. “What?”

Wooyoung took a step closer, voice dropping into that tone—the one that always turned San’s brain into mush. “So you don’t think about that stuff, huh?”

San took a step back, suddenly feeling very warm. “I—uh—”

Wooyoung hummed, stepping even closer. “So if I were to, say…” He trailed his fingers lightly over San’s arm, the way Jason had done earlier—but deliberate, teasing. “Do this, you wouldn’t think anything of it?”

San’s breath hitched. “T-That’s different—”

“Oh?” Wooyoung tilted his head innocently, fingers grazing over San’s collarbone. “So if I whispered something sweet in your ear, like ‘you look really cute when you’re confused’, that wouldn’t affect you either?”

San clenched his jaw, willing his body not to react. “I—”

Wooyoung leaned in, lips hovering just beside San’s ear. “Or,” he murmured, voice dripping with mischief, “if I told you exactly what I want to do to you when we get home—”

San whimpered.

Wooyoung grinned victoriously.

“See?” he teased, stepping back with a satisfied smirk. “You only ignore flirting when it’s from me.”

San glared at him, completely flustered. “That is not true—”

Wooyoung just winked. “Sure, baby. Keep telling yourself that.”

San groaned into his hands, his entire body burning. But even through his embarrassment, a part of him swelled with warmth.

Because yeah—maybe he was a complete idiot when it came to recognizing flirting.

But at the end of the day, he was still Wooyoung’s idiot.

---

A Day in the Life of Wooyoung & San 1.0

San wasn’t sure how he ended up here.

One moment, he had been peacefully eating his breakfast, minding his own business. The next, Wooyoung had slithered into his lap like a very clingy cat, arms wrapped around San’s neck, grinning up at him like he had just committed a crime and wanted to be praised for it.

San sighed, putting down his spoon. “Wooyoung.”

“Yes, baby?”

“You have a chair.”

Wooyoung tilted his head. “I have you.”

San groaned. “You are so clingy in the morning.”

Wooyoung gasped, hand over his heart. “Clingy? I prefer affectionate.”

“You’re literally sitting on me right now.”

Wooyoung blinked, looking down at himself. “Wow. Would you look at that?”

San exhaled through his nose. “Are you going to move?”

Wooyoung leaned in, smirking. “Do you want me to move?”

San pursed his lips. Damn it. Damn it.

This was the problem with dating Wooyoung. He was a menace—flirty, shameless, and absolutely relentless.

San, on the other hand, was a simple man. He liked things to make sense. He liked when people behaved. Unfortunately, his boyfriend never did.

San glanced at the time. “We’re going to be late for class.”

Wooyoung shrugged. “Then let’s be late.”

San stared. “Wooyoung, we can’t just—”

Wooyoung suddenly grabbed San’s face, squishing his cheeks together. “Listen to me, my big, strong, gorgeous boyfriend.”

San’s brain short-circuited. “I—”

“I love you,” Wooyoung said dramatically. “I adore you. But you need to relax.”

San, cheeks still squished, mumbled, “I am relaxed.”

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Then why are you so tense every time I flirt with you?”

San groaned. “Because you’re too much.”

Wooyoung gasped again. “Me? Too much? Baby, I am the perfect amount.”

San gave him a deadpan look.

Wooyoung grinned. “And you love it.”

San hated how true that was.

Still, he sighed, lifting Wooyoung off his lap with ease and setting him onto the chair beside him. “Come on, eat your food before you start harassing me again.”

Wooyoung pouted. “But harassing you is my favorite hobby.”

San shoved a spoonful of cereal into Wooyoung’s mouth. “Eat.”

Wooyoung chewed, grumbling something about how “rude” San was, but he did eat, so San considered that a victory.

San was in the middle of reading his textbook when a familiar voice cut through the quiet library.

“There you are, baby!”

San stiffened. Oh no.

He turned just in time to see Wooyoung marching toward him, looking way too excited for someone in a place that required silence.

San frowned. “Wooyoung, this is a—”

Wooyoung plopped down in the seat beside him and immediately draped himself over San’s arm. “I missed you.”

San gave him a look. “We saw each other two hours ago.”

“Exactly!”

San pinched the bridge of his nose. “Wooyoung, we are in a library. Be quiet.”

Wooyoung gasped dramatically—so dramatically that an old lady at another table shushed him.

San buried his face in his hands.

Wooyoung lowered his voice but still leaned in. “Baby, why are you studying when you could be spending time with your amazing, hot, incredible boyfriend?”

San deadpanned. “Because I don’t want to fail my exam.”

Wooyoung pouted. “But I’m bored.”

San sighed. He had one brain cell left, and Wooyoung was killing it.

“Here,” San said, pushing his notebook toward him. “Make yourself useful and quiz me.”

Wooyoung blinked, staring at the notebook. Then, suddenly, he grinned.

San immediately regretted it.

“Alright, baby,” Wooyoung said, smirking. “First question—how long does the average human orgasm last?”

San choked.

Wooyoung beamed.

“Wooyoung—”

“What? You said quiz you.”

“ON MY CLASS NOTES, NOT WHATEVER IS GOING ON IN YOUR BRAIN.”

Wooyoung hummed. “But isn’t it more fun this way?”

San groaned, hiding his face in his arms. He swore he was going to die early because of this man.

And yet, as he felt Wooyoung poke his arm with a mischievous giggle, San couldn’t help but smile.

Because even if Wooyoung was a menace…

He was his menace.

---

A Night in the Life of Wooyoung & San 2.0

San wasn’t sure how he ended up here.

Again.

One moment, he had been getting ready for bed, perfectly content with his usual routine. The next, Wooyoung had somehow invaded his personal space, lying dramatically across his bed, making it very clear that he had no intentions of leaving.

San, standing at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed, sighed. “Wooyoung, you have your own room.”

Wooyoung, already buried under San’s blankets, blinked up at him. “I like yours better.”

San gave him a look. “Why?”

Wooyoung grinned. “Because you’re in it.”

San groaned, rubbing his face. “You literally have your own bed.”

Wooyoung gasped dramatically. “San, I can’t believe you. You’re my boyfriend. How could you be so heartless?”

San squinted. “Heartless?”

Wooyoung nodded, pouting. “Leaving me alone in my big, empty bed, all cold and miserable—”

“Wooyoung, your bed is literally the same size as mine.”

Wooyoung ignored him. “—while you sleep peacefully in yours, completely unbothered by the suffering of the love of your life.”

San exhaled. “You’re so dramatic.”

Wooyoung tilted his head. “And yet, you love me.”

San pursed his lips. “Unfortunately.”

Wooyoung grinned, patting the empty space beside him. “Come on, baby. Let me sleep with you.”

San hesitated. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. It was just… dangerous.

Every time he let Wooyoung stay over, it ended with San suffering.

Because Wooyoung? He clung.

San had learned the hard way that once Wooyoung fell asleep, he latched on like a very affectionate octopus. And San, despite his best efforts, was weak to it.

Still, looking at Wooyoung’s big, expectant eyes…

San sighed, already feeling himself losing. “Fine.”

Wooyoung cheered.

San rolled his eyes, climbing into bed. “But if you try anything, I swear—”

Before he could finish, Wooyoung had already snuggled into his side, arms wrapping around his waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.

San froze.

Because goddamn it, Wooyoung was warm.

He felt Wooyoung grin against his chest. “You’re so tense, baby. Relax.”

San scoffed, trying to sound unimpressed. “I am relaxed.”

Wooyoung hummed. “Mmm… no, you’re not.”

San huffed. “I don’t need to be—”

Wooyoung suddenly nuzzled into his neck, murmuring, “You smell nice.”

San died.

His entire body locked up, heat rushing to his ears. “W-Wooyoung—”

“Shhh,” Wooyoung whispered, sighing contently. “Just sleep, baby.”

San’s brain refused to function.

But after a few moments—after Wooyoung’s breathing evened out, after the warmth of his body settled against San’s—San finally let go.

Slowly, hesitantly, he relaxed.

His arm, almost on instinct, came up to wrap around Wooyoung’s waist, pulling him just a little closer.

And as embarrassing as it was, San finally admitted something to himself:

He didn’t hate this.

Not at all.

Maybe—just maybe—he liked it a little too much.

---

The Study Date

San liked to think of himself as a simple man. He followed rules, respected boundaries, and liked when things made sense.

Dating Wooyoung? Nothing made sense anymore.

Take today, for example.

It was supposed to be a normal study date. Just San, his incredibly distracting boyfriend, and a table full of books. That’s it.

But, of course, life hated San.

Because just as he and Wooyoung had settled into their seats at the café, someone had walked up to their table with an all-too-familiar smirk.

“Wow,” the stranger said, crossing his arms. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Wooyoung.”

San looked up. And immediately regretted it.

Because of course—of course—it had to be Wooyoung’s ex.

San knew about him. Knew his name, knew the history, knew that Wooyoung had once called this man his boyfriend.

San suddenly felt very small.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung? He looked amused. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite mistake.”

The ex smirked. “You wound me.”

San clenched his jaw. Okay, what the hell was that supposed to mean?

The ex turned his gaze to San, looking him up and down in a way that made San feel like a science experiment. “And who’s this?”

Before Wooyoung could answer, San moved.

He didn’t know what came over him. One second, he was silently freaking out; the next, he was flinging himself onto Wooyoung like a lovesick fool.

Wooyoung choked. “San?”

San wrapped his arms around Wooyoung’s waist, leaning his head on his shoulder. “I’m his boyfriend.”

Wooyoung went completely still. Then—

“Oh?”

San froze.

Something about Wooyoung’s tone made him nervous.

Then, suddenly—disaster.

Wooyoung grinned—the kind of grin that meant San had just signed his own death sentence.

Because Wooyoung was enjoying this.

“Well, aren’t you adorable,” Wooyoung purred, draping an arm around San’s shoulders. “Didn’t know you liked showing me off, baby.”

San’s soul left his body.

Wooyoung’s ex raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “Didn’t peg you for the clingy type.”

San wasn’t. He really, really wasn’t. But something about seeing Wooyoung with his ex had short-circuited his brain, and now he was acting like some needy, lovesick fool.

And the worst part?

Wooyoung was thriving.

“You know,” Wooyoung said, tapping his chin. “Now that I think about it, San is pretty affectionate. Like, last night—”

San slammed a hand over Wooyoung’s mouth. “NOPE.”

Wooyoung giggled against his palm, eyes sparkling. He was having too much fun with this.

San hated him.

“Wow,” the ex mused, crossing his arms. “Didn’t think you’d settle down with someone so… innocent.”

San stiffened. He knew what the guy meant.

He wasn’t Wooyoung’s type. He wasn’t flirty, wasn’t wild, wasn’t the kind of person who said things just to get a reaction.

But for the first time in his life—he tried.

San turned, grabbing Wooyoung’s chin between his fingers, forcing him to look at him.

Wooyoung’s eyes widened.

“Maybe I’m innocent,” San murmured, leaning in, “but that just means I’m his.”

Wooyoung squeaked.

The ex raised an eyebrow. “Huh.”

San, absolutely dying inside, forced a smirk. “Now, if you don’t mind, we were in the middle of a date.”

Wooyoung’s ex stared for a moment. Then, shrugging, he let out a soft chuckle. “Alright. You two have fun.”

And just like that, he was gone.

San exhaled, pulling away—

Only to be yanked back down.

San yelped as Wooyoung practically launched himself onto him, eyes glowing.

“WHO. ARE. YOU.” Wooyoung whisper-yelled. “AND WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY SHY, CUTE BOYFRIEND?”

San, still dying of embarrassment, covered his face with his hands. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Wooyoung grinned. “No, no, I love this side of you.”

San groaned. “I hate myself.”

Wooyoung nuzzled into him. “But I love you.”

San sighed, defeated.

Maybe next time, he’d just let Wooyoung handle it.

Because holy hell, pretending to be confident was exhausting.

---

Almost Voyeurism

The morning of their camping trip was a flurry of excitement.

The air was crisp, the sun just starting to rise as San and Wooyoung, along with their friends—Seonghwa, Hongjoong, Yunho, Yeosang, Mingi, and Jongho—gathered by the parking lot, loading up the car with camping gear, snacks, and, of course, Wooyoung's infamous tent, which he promised would be "comfortable and cozy."

“I swear, this tent is big enough to fit all of us!” Wooyoung had boasted, somehow managing to make the statement sound both cocky and absurd at the same time. San just shook his head, hoping for the best.

The drive out to the campgrounds was filled with music, laughter, and playful bickering. Wooyoung kept making teasing comments to San, who, as usual, tried his best to ignore them.

But with every joke Wooyoung made, San’s resolve melted a little more, until he couldn’t help but let out a reluctant chuckle.

Once they arrived and set up camp, the group quickly settled into their cozy spot by the fire, roasting marshmallows and telling stories.

It was a perfect day—bright, warm, and relaxed, with everyone enjoying the simplicity of nature. But of course, Wooyoung couldn’t resist the urge to make things a little more... interesting.

As the evening wore on, the group settled into their shared tents, each of them pairing off with their usual companions. San and Wooyoung, naturally, were in the same tent, nestled into the far corner under a pile of blankets.

They had a good laugh when they realized just how close they were, bodies touching under the thin layer of fabric, and yet neither of them seemed to mind.

San, who had spent the entire day pretending not to notice Wooyoung’s suggestive glances and teasing remarks, could no longer ignore the heated atmosphere between them. Wooyoung had a way of getting under his skin, and tonight, his attempts were relentless.

The evening air was cool and crisp, the kind of chilly evening that made the warmth of the fire outside the tent seem like a distant memory. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of pine and the quiet hum of their breathing.

The group had settled down around the fire earlier, laughing and telling stories, but now, it was just San and Wooyoung in their tent, surrounded by nothing but the soft flickering of lantern light.

San tried to focus on the sounds of the night—crickets chirping and the occasional rustling of leaves—but Wooyoung was making that difficult, as usual. They had barely settled into their tent before Wooyoung’s mischievous grin appeared, a silent promise of trouble to come.

San sat on one side of the tent, pulling his blanket up around his shoulders to ward off the chill. Wooyoung, however, was not content with the distance between them.

He moved closer, his eyes glinting with that familiar spark of playfulness, and San could feel the warmth of his body even before Wooyoung spoke.

“You know,” Wooyoung’s voice was a soft whisper, his lips brushing against San’s ear, “if you’re cold, I can always keep you warm.”

San stiffened, the sudden proximity causing his heart to race. He immediately tried to hide his reaction, focusing on the fabric of his blanket and avoiding eye contact. “Wooyoung, stop,” he muttered, though the words came out with far less authority than he’d hoped.

Wooyoung didn’t listen, of course. Instead, he moved even closer, his breath warm against San’s skin as his lips brushed the edge of San’s neck. “Stop?” he purred, his voice low and teasing. “But I thought you liked it when I kept you close.”

San swallowed hard, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering uncontrollably as Wooyoung’s hand slid slowly down his side, his touch light yet deliberate, sending heat straight to his core. He tried to shift away, but Wooyoung wasn’t having it.

His touch became teasing, fingers grazing just a little too close to where it made San’s breath catch.

“You feel that?” Wooyoung murmured, his voice low and barely above a whisper, as his hand rested on San’s waist, pulling him closer. “I could keep you warm, you know.”

San’s heart raced, a surge of warmth flooding through him, but his mind screamed at him to stay in control. “Wooyoung… stop,” he muttered, trying to pull back, but his voice faltered as Wooyoung leaned in, his lips brushing against San’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Stop?” Wooyoung teased, his breath warm against San’s skin. “But you like it, don’t you? Just a taste…”

San’s pulse quickened, and before he could protest further, Wooyoung’s lips found his neck, warm and soft at first, then more insistent. His hand slid further down, tracing a line that made San’s mind whirl.

The teasing touches set his senses ablaze, making him dizzy with wanting, and he couldn’t stop the soft gasp that escaped his lips.

His hands gripped the edge of the blanket as his pulse pounded in his ears, his body betraying him despite the fight in his mind. Every brush of Wooyoung’s lips, every light touch on his skin, made it harder to think straight.

“Wooyoung…” San breathed, his voice shaky. “We… the others are outside…”

“Only for a taste,” Wooyoung replied, his voice hushed but filled with desire, his lips moving slowly toward San’s, coaxing him into the kiss.

Before San could stop him, Wooyoung’s lips captured his in a slow, teasing kiss that deepened quickly. His hand moved to the back of San’s neck, pulling him in even closer, kissing him with a hunger that San could no longer ignore.

It was intoxicating, their lips moving together in a rhythm both familiar and dangerously addictive, like they had been here before, and yet, this time felt different.

San’s heart pounded in his chest, the kiss consuming him, but his mind screamed at him to stop, to pull away before they went too far. Every rational thought was drowned out by the feeling of Wooyoung’s lips against his, the warmth of his body pressed so close to his own.

“Wooyoung, we shouldn’t—” San gasped, trying to push away, but Wooyoung’s grip tightened, and he pulled San back into the kiss, his hands roaming, the intensity growing.

San’s hands trembled, gripping Wooyoung’s shirt as his mind fought to push through the haze of desire. But with each pull of Wooyoung’s lips, with each whisper of his touch, it felt impossible to do anything but sink deeper into the sensation.

The world outside—the sounds of their friends, the safety of their shared space—seemed so far away, like it didn’t matter anymore.

San’s heart raced, his chest tightening as the tension in the air thickened. He felt Wooyoung’s hand slide slowly toward the hem of his shirt, and before San could process what was happening, Wooyoung’s fingers were already working at the fabric.

“Wooyoung, wait—” San gasped, his mind a blur of emotions. But Wooyoung only grinned, the mischievous glint in his eyes sending a wave of heat through San’s body.

“Relax,” Wooyoung whispered, his lips brushing against San’s jaw. “Let me take care of you.”

But just as Wooyoung was about to pull his shirt off completely, they were interrupted by a voice that cut through the haze of desire.

“Hey, is everything okay in there? I heard some noises...” Seonghwa’s voice called out, breaking the spell.

San’s eyes widened in horror. He shot up, shoving Wooyoung off him as his face flushed bright red. “Seonghwa! What the hell!” he hissed, scrambling to adjust his shirt.

Wooyoung, unfazed by the interruption, let out an exaggerated groan, throwing his head back in mock frustration. “Ugh, Seonghwa, you’re such a cock-blocker,” he muttered, his voice dripping with playful annoyance.

Meanwhile, San’s hands were frantic as he buttoned up his shirt, hoping to hide the evidence of what had almost transpired. His heart pounded, and he cursed himself for letting it get that far. “Seonghwa, it’s fine!” he called out, trying to sound as calm as possible. “Just—just adjusting some things. Thanks for checking!”

Seonghwa, standing just outside, didn’t seem to buy it. A knowing grin spread across his face. “Adjusting, huh? You sure about that? Sounds like something was getting adjusted in there.”

San groaned, his face now as red as a tomato. He turned to Wooyoung, who was still grinning devilishly, thoroughly entertained by the situation.

“Did you have to do that now?” San muttered, frantically smoothing down his shirt.

Wooyoung, smirking, leaned back against the bed. “Don’t worry, baby,” he said with a wink. “I’ve got it covered.”

San shot him a confused look, then realized what Wooyoung meant when he saw the small sign on the door reading, “Do Not Enter.”

San buried his face in his hands. “I hate you,” he muttered, feeling a mix of embarrassment and exasperation.

“You love me,” Wooyoung teased, reaching across the table to ruffle San’s hair, his mischievous grin never fading.

San shot Wooyoung an exasperated look as he finished buttoning up his shirt. “I swear, one of these days, I’m going to strangle you,” he muttered under his breath. But even as the words left his mouth, he knew it was a hollow threat.

It was hard to stay mad at Wooyoung for long, especially when he was so damn charming.

Wooyoung, completely unfazed, flashed him a wicked grin. “I wish you would,” he replied, his voice low and suggestive. “Maybe we can add that to the list later.” His eyes gleamed with mischievous intent, his lips curling up into a playful smirk.

San could feel the heat rise in his cheeks at the suggestiveness in Wooyoung’s tone, but before he could retort, Seonghwa’s laughter echoed from outside the tent, followed by his voice. “You guys good in there?” Seonghwa teased.

“We heard some interesting sounds... Anyway, the others are waiting for you with food. We're gonna play some games too, so, uh... just make sure you don't do anything extra while we’re here. At least wait until you’re back home.”

San groaned in frustration and embarrassment, burying his face in his hands. “Oh my god, Seonghwa...” he muttered, trying to compose himself.

Wooyoung, still lounging on the floor without a care in the world, pouted playfully. “Can’t we just stay here and cuddle? The others can wait.” He stretched his arms out, lying back with a lazy smile, looking every bit like he wanted to stay in their little world for just a bit longer.

San sighed deeply, adjusting his appearance one last time as he stood. “No, Wooyoung. The others are waiting. Let’s go.” He gave Wooyoung an apologetic smile, though the sight of Wooyoung’s disappointed pout tugged at his heart.

But there was no way he could ignore the others for too long, not when they were all waiting for them outside.

Wooyoung huffed dramatically, though he was still grinning. “You’re no fun,” he muttered, but he got up nonetheless, adjusting his clothes and following San toward the exit.

---

"Someone Better"

San’s heart felt like it was being ripped apart when he saw it. There, standing under the dim glow of the streetlight, was Wooyoung, his lips pressed against another person’s—someone who wasn’t him.

The world seemed to slow as San’s vision blurred, a sharp pain piercing his chest. He didn’t want to believe what he was seeing, but the undeniable truth hit him like a punch to the gut. Wooyoung was cheating.

For a long moment, San stood frozen in place, his breath coming in shallow gasps, his body shaking with disbelief and hurt. The image of Wooyoung’s hands running through someone else’s hair, their laughter mixing with the sound of the night air, was burned into his mind.

Finally, the sound of his own ragged breathing snapped him out of his trance. He couldn’t just stand there. He had to confront him. He had to know why.

San stormed over, voice breaking as he called out, “Wooyoung!”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened in surprise as he turned around, the moment of shock fleeting before he quickly masked it with a forced, casual smile. He shifted slightly, stepping in front of the person beside him, blocking them from view as if to shield them.

“San?” he asked, his voice too light, too rehearsed, the smile on his face not reaching his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

San’s heart dropped, his stomach turning as his gaze flicked between Wooyoung and the person who was clearly still too close to him.

Wooyoung’s attempt to hide them behind his back only deepened the sting of betrayal. The indifference on his face only made San’s anger grow, a sharp, bitter ache pulsing through his chest.

San's voice cracked with a mix of disbelief and fury as he stepped forward, eyes locked on Wooyoung. “Who is this?” he demanded, his voice shaking.

“And what the hell are you doing with him at this time?!” His chest tightened with every word, the raw pain in his stomach now spreading through his entire body.

The anger bubbled over, his hands balling into fists at his sides, body trembling with a mix of heartbreak and rage. The sight before him shattered everything he thought he knew about their relationship, each word tearing at the fragile pieces of trust he had left.

Wooyoung's eyes flickered with unease as San's words hit him, but he quickly masked it with a strained smile, trying to keep the situation under control. "It’s nothing, San. Just a friend I bumped into, that's all," he said, his voice flat, trying to brush off the tension in the air.

But San wasn’t having it. His gaze hardened, and he stepped forward, cutting off Wooyoung’s excuse before it could take root. "Stop lying, Wooyoung," he spat, his voice laced with pain. "I saw everything. Don’t think I didn’t."

Wooyoung froze. For a brief moment, his face betrayed the shock he tried so desperately to hide. But then, his expression shifted to indifference. He grabbed the person next to him by the hand, pulling him close, as if to assert ownership over the situation.

The other person—his lover, San now realized—was now pressed against Wooyoung’s side. The sight made San’s heart twist painfully.

San’s eyes dropped to their hands, clenched together tightly. The image burned itself into his mind, each finger interlocked so naturally, so effortlessly, as if this had always been the way things were meant to be.

A knot formed in San’s throat, his chest aching at the sight of something he never thought he’d see—Wooyoung, holding someone else, as if their history together meant nothing at all.

"What is this, Wooyoung?" San asked, his voice breaking, the pain clear in his eyes.

Wooyoung stared back at him, a flicker of emotion flashing across his face before he masked it with a cold resolve.

He let go of the other person’s hand and faced San fully, his eyes now distant. "Let’s break up," he said simply, as though the decision had already been made in his mind long before this moment.

San's stomach churned, the words cutting deeper than any betrayal. His hands trembled at his sides, his body frozen in disbelief. "What?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. “You... you love someone else?”

Wooyoung's gaze never wavered, but the indifference in his eyes told San everything he needed to know. Wooyoung’s hand fell from the other person's, and he turned his back on San, as though the conversation was over.

San's breath trembled as he took a shaky step forward, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. “But why?” he asked, his voice breaking. “I thought we were fine.”

Wooyoung didn’t even spare him a glance, letting out an exaggerated sigh, like this conversation was nothing but a hassle.

“Fine?” he scoffed, finally looking at San with an expression that made his stomach churn. “San, you’re too dull.” His tone was flat, detached, like he wasn’t talking to someone he once claimed to love. “Too flat. I got bored.”

San’s breath hitched, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. Wooyoung spoke so carelessly, so easily, as if throwing away everything they had meant nothing to him. As if San had meant nothing.

“Bored? Bored of me?” His voice cracked, a pit opening in his stomach as the truth sank in. “Is that what this is? You think you can just replace me like this?”

Wooyoung’s gaze flickered briefly to the person beside him—the one San didn’t recognize, the one whose hand Wooyoung had been holding—before turning back to him with a look of indifference.

“I need someone who gets me. Someone who vibes the same as me.” His voice was void of hesitation, as if he had rehearsed this, as if it wasn’t supposed to hurt. “You’re... innocent. Inexperienced. It’s not enough.”

San’s breath came in short, uneven gasps. His vision blurred, his entire body shaking. “Y-you told me that I was enough,” he whispered, his voice raw with pain.

His eyes searched Wooyoung’s face, desperate for something—anything—that told him this was all a horrible mistake, that Wooyoung didn’t mean it. “That— that you loved me.”

But Wooyoung’s face remained cold, his expression unreadable. There was no guilt, no regret. Just distance.

“I guess I changed my mind,” he said simply..

The other person shifted uncomfortably next to Wooyoung, but Wooyoung barely acknowledged them.

His expression hardened, his eyes distant as he stood there, unmoved by San’s pain. “This is just how it is,” Wooyoung said, the indifference cutting deeper than any accusation San could throw.

San’s heart shattered with the finality in Wooyoung’s words. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight. “Don’t you dare say that!” he spat, his voice trembling with anger and hurt. “I gave you everything! I trusted you, and you—” He stopped, unable to finish. The pain in his chest was too much to bear.

San’s vision blurred with rage and heartbreak as he took a step forward, his breath ragged. His chest burned, his emotions bubbling over into something raw and unforgiving.

His eyes snapped to the person standing next to Wooyoung, the one Wooyoung was still holding onto like some prized possession. San’s stomach twisted violently at the sight of their intertwined fingers.

“You,” San spat, his voice shaking with fury. “You’re nothing but a pathetic homewrecker.” His words were venomous, laced with the pain clawing at his heart.

“Seducing someone else’s boyfriend? Are you that desperate? That pathetic?” His glare darkened, scanning the person up and down with disgust. “Do you even know what you’re getting into? Do you think this means anything?”

The person flinched slightly but didn’t say a word, their grip on Wooyoung tightening.

San let out a bitter laugh, one that held no amusement. “He’ll leave you too, just like he left me,” he sneered. “You’re just a distraction to him, something new and exciting for now. But once he gets bored—because trust me, he will—he’ll throw you away just like he’s doing to me.”

Wooyoung’s expression twisted with irritation, his jaw tightening. His patience was wearing thin, but San didn’t care. He wanted to hurt him, hurt them both, just like he was hurting now.

“San, stop it,” Wooyoung snapped, stepping forward, his body now completely shielding the other person from San’s line of sight. His voice was low, dangerous, a warning. “You don’t get to talk to them like that.”

San let out a shaky breath, his fists trembling at his sides. “Then what do I get, Wooyoung?” His voice cracked. “What do I get after all of this? After everything?”

Wooyoung’s eyes flickered, but he didn’t waver. Instead, he exhaled sharply, as if San was nothing more than a stubborn inconvenience. “I don’t owe you an explanation anymore.” His voice was void of warmth, of regret, of anything. “It’s over.”

San’s chest ached with every word Wooyoung said. “How can you just walk away from me? After everything we’ve been through, everything I’ve done for you, how can you just do this?” His voice wavered, but his anger kept him going. “You’re really going to leave me for someone else? Like I never mattered?”

Wooyoung’s face darkened, his eyes narrowing as he took a step forward. “It’s too late, San,” he said, his voice hard and final. “I’m in love with someone else now. It’s over. I’m done.”

San’s breath caught in his throat as the words hit him like a punch to the gut. “No... no, please,” San begged, his voice desperate, barely above a whisper.

“Don’t leave me,” San choked out, his voice trembling, desperate. “I can change. I can be what you need. I’ll do anything… please, don’t go.” His hands reached out helplessly, grasping at the empty space between them, as if he could somehow pull Wooyoung back, as if his love alone could be enough. “I love you, Wooyoung. I love you.”

But Wooyoung didn’t say a word. He didn’t even spare San a final glance.

Instead, he simply turned around and started walking away.

San felt his chest cave in, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. No. No, this isn’t right. This isn’t him. Wooyoung wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t just… leave.

Tears burned down his cheeks as he stumbled forward. “Wooyoung—please!” His voice cracked, breaking under the weight of his heartbreak. “Please don’t do this!”

Wooyoung didn’t stop. Didn’t turn back. Didn’t hesitate.

San dropped to his knees, his sobs raw and unrestrained, his entire body shaking. It hurt—God, it hurt.

He had never known pain like this,, his chest heaving as his world shattered around him. “No... Wooyoung...” His voice cracked, a sob rising in his throat that he couldn’t contain. “Please... I can’t lose you...”

But Wooyoung was already walking away, his steps measured and determined. “Goodbye, San,” he said without looking back. “I’ll be fine without you.”

San stood there, rooted to the spot, his heart breaking into pieces with every step Wooyoung took away from him. He wanted to shout, to beg, to make him stop, but the words got stuck in his throat. Wooyoung was gone. And there was nothing San could do to bring him back.

A sob tore from San’s throat, the weight of it crashing down on him. He fell to his knees, hands shaking as tears streamed down his face. “Please... don’t leave me...” he whispered into the silence, his voice barely a breath, but there was no answer.

San jolted up from his sleep, his body shaking, his chest heaving with ragged breaths.

Tears streamed down his face before he could even process where he was, his mind still trapped in the nightmare—the feeling of Wooyoung slipping away, leaving him behind like he meant nothing. The ache in his heart felt real, too real.

His frantic eyes darted to the side, and there—right beside him—was Wooyoung, peacefully asleep, his slow breaths steady and undisturbed. He’s here. He’s still here.

A broken sob tore from San’s throat, relief crashing over him in overwhelming waves. The sound was loud enough to stir Wooyoung from his sleep. His brows furrowed as his eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light.

“San…?” Wooyoung’s voice was thick with sleep, but the moment he saw the tears streaming down San’s face, he immediately sat up, concern overtaking his drowsiness.

Without hesitation, Wooyoung reached for him, pulling San close until his head was pressed against his chest. “Hey, hey… what’s wrong?” he murmured, his voice gentle, warm. His fingers carded through San’s hair, soothing, grounding. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

But San only sobbed harder, his hands gripping Wooyoung’s shirt like he was afraid to let go. Afraid that if he blinked, Wooyoung would disappear all over again.

The sudden noise drew the attention of the others, who had been outside the tent. In a matter of seconds, Seonghwa stormed in first, his face full of concern, followed closely by Yunho and the rest.

"San?" Seonghwa’s eyes flicked between the sobbing mess that was San and the very bewildered-looking Wooyoung. "What’s going on?"

"Is everything okay?" Yunho asked, though his tone carried a hint of suspicion as he crossed his arms.

Wooyoung blinked at them, still disoriented, his brain barely catching up. "I—what? No! I just woke up to him crying!" He gestured wildly at San, clearly distressed.

Seonghwa’s gaze hardened. "What did you do, Wooyoung?"

"NOTHING!" Wooyoung’s voice shot up an octave as he aggressively shook his head, feeling deeply wronged. "I LITERALLY JUST WOKE UP!"

Before he could defend himself further, San, still sobbing, clutched onto Wooyoung’s shirt and muttered between hiccups, "I’m sorry… please don’t leave me… please…"

The tent fell into dead silence.

Yunho raised an eyebrow. Seonghwa crossed his arms. Yeosang sighed dramatically. Then, all at once, their gazes locked onto Wooyoung like a pack of wolves about to attack.

"So you were planning to leave him?" Mingi asked, his tone pure judgment.

Wooyoung’s jaw dropped. "What?! NO!"

"Then why is he begging you not to leave, huh?" Seonghwa narrowed his eyes menacingly.

"BECAUSE HE’S DREAMING SOME ANGSTY SHIT—DO NOT PIN THIS ON ME!" Wooyoung flailed his arms, exasperated.

San, still buried in his chest, sniffled. "Please…"

The others inhaled sharply.

"Okay, wow," Yeosang muttered. "Gaslighting him in his sleep too?"

"OH MY GOD—" Wooyoung groaned, running a hand down his face. "I hate all of you."

As the tension in the tent slowly faded, San’s breathing evened out, his sniffles becoming less frequent.

The others had all made themselves comfortable, sitting in a circle on the floor of Wooyoung and San’s tent, clearly waiting for an explanation.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung sat awkwardly in the center of it all, arms crossed, pouting like a child wrongfully accused of stealing cookies.

San, still recovering from the emotional turmoil of his dream, leaned his head against Wooyoung’s shoulder, seeking warmth. His fingers curled slightly into Wooyoung’s sleeve, grounding himself.

After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice hoarse from crying. “It was just… a nightmare,” he admitted softly, his eyes downcast. “You were cheating on me… and then you left me.”

Silence.

Then a quiet snort.

San lifted his head slightly to see Mingi biting his lip, trying (and failing) to suppress a laugh. Seonghwa covered his mouth with his hand, while Yunho looked away, his shoulders shaking slightly.

“Y’all are so fake,” Wooyoung grumbled, shooting them a glare before turning back to San with a pout. “Baby, there’s no way I would do that to you. Let alone leave you.”

San blinked up at him, his lips still trembling slightly. “Really?”

Wooyoung cupped his face dramatically. “Really.”

San sniffled again, and Wooyoung softened, rubbing his thumb over San’s cheek. “You’re the only one I want, dummy. No one else.”

“Promise?”

“I swear on my very sexy and perfect existence.”

The others groaned.

“Oh my god,” Yeosang muttered.

“Here we go,” Yunho sighed, rubbing his temples.

But San, still too wrapped up in his emotions, didn’t care about the audience. He tightened his arms around Wooyoung’s waist, burying his face into his chest. “You’re mean in my dreams,” he mumbled against Wooyoung’s shirt. “You broke my heart.”

Wooyoung gasped dramatically. “How dare I?!”

“I know, right?” San huffed, snuggling closer.

“I should apologize on behalf of dream me,” Wooyoung declared before kissing the top of San’s head. “How can I make it up to you, my love?”

San sighed. “Cuddles.”

Wooyoung grinned. “Done.” He wrapped his arms around San tighter, rubbing his back. “Anything else?”

San thought for a moment before whispering, “Kisses.”

“Oh, baby, you don’t even have to ask—” Wooyoung tilted San’s chin up and leaned in without hesitation.

Yeosang shot up. “Nope. Absolutely not.”

Seonghwa stood immediately. “We’re leaving.”

“Yeah, I am NOT about to be included in whatever this is about to turn into,” Yunho agreed, grabbing Mingi by the collar and dragging him toward the tent entrance.

“But the tea was good,” Mingi whined as he was yanked away.

“Not good enough to stay for that,” Seonghwa muttered, already halfway out the tent.

As the group scrambled to escape, Wooyoung smirked against San’s lips. “Finally, some peace and quiet.”

San hummed, still clinging onto him. “You were really about to start something, huh?”

Wooyoung wiggled his brows. “I am a menace.”

San snorted, pressing his face into Wooyoung’s neck. “I hate you.”

“Liar,” Wooyoung grinned, holding him closer.

Wooyoung’s fingers traced along San’s jawline, slow and deliberate, wiping away the dried tear stains on his face. His touch was featherlight, barely there, but enough to make San shiver.

“Such a pretty crybaby,” Wooyoung murmured, his thumb grazing over San’s lower lip.

San swallowed hard, his breath hitching as Wooyoung’s hands moved—trailing down his neck, over his shoulders, ghosting over his sides. His fingertips danced teasingly across San’s arms, his touch suggestive but never lingering long enough.

San’s body reacted instinctively, leaning into Wooyoung’s touch, his face tilting into the palm cradling his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed for a second, basking in the warmth, the intimacy.

Wooyoung’s lips curled into a knowing smirk.

Then, without warning, he grabbed San by the waist and pulled him onto his lap.

San let out a sharp inhale, his body tensing in surprise as he found himself straddling Wooyoung, their faces now impossibly close. His hands instinctively clutched at Wooyoung’s shoulders, his heart hammering against his ribs.

“W-Wooyoung,” San stuttered, his breath uneven.

Wooyoung just tilted his head, feigning innocence. “What?”

His hands settled firmly on San’s hips, his thumbs rubbing slow, lazy circles against the fabric of San’s shirt. His grip was firm, controlling—keeping San right where he wanted him.

San’s mind went blank for a moment, overwhelmed by the proximity, by the way Wooyoung was looking at him—like he was something to be devoured.

“I—” San’s voice faltered as Wooyoung’s fingers started moving again, tracing slow, lazy patterns along his waist.

The air grew thick, charged.

Wooyoung leaned in, their lips barely brushing. It started soft, teasing, but then San sighed into the kiss, letting himself melt into it, his arms wrapping around Wooyoung’s neck.

The softness turned deeper, more consuming, Wooyoung tilting San’s head to deepen the kiss as his hands roamed lower.

His fingers found the hem of San’s shirt, tugging it up, and San lifted his arms without thinking, letting Wooyoung pull it over his head.

Wooyoung’s eyes darkened as he took in San’s bare skin, his fingers splaying over his chest, tracing along the curves and ridges like he was memorizing every inch.

Wooyoung leaned down, lips brushing against the thick muscle of San’s chest, leaving slow, open-mouthed kisses along his collarbone, his breath warm against San’s skin.

San let out a quiet, shaky exhale, his fingers threading into Wooyoung’s hair.

Wooyoung smirked against his skin, trailing lower, pressing a lingering kiss right over his heart. “San,” he murmured, his voice low, sultry. “Should we continue where we left off yesterday?”

San’s breath hitched. He closed his eyes, his grip tightening on Wooyoung’s shoulders.

Then, slowly, he nodded.

---

The group had made it a considerable distance away from Wooyoung and San’s tent when Seonghwa suddenly stopped in his tracks. Something felt… off.

“Wait,” he said, turning around, his eyes narrowing. “Where the hell are Yunho and Mingi?”

The others froze, looking around before realizing the two were nowhere to be seen.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Seonghwa groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Don’t tell me—”

“They stayed behind,” Yeosang deadpanned, already knowing the answer.

Seonghwa exhaled sharply, the exhaustion already creeping in. “Alright, who’s going back to get them?”

Silence.

No one volunteered.

Seonghwa crossed his arms. “I am not doing this alone.”

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Jongho suggested.

A tense, high-stakes battle of rock-paper-scissors ensued. Unfortunately, the universe had a personal vendetta against Seonghwa.

“Are you kidding me?!” Seonghwa scowled as he stared at his losing ‘paper’ against Yeosang’s victorious ‘scissors.’

“Good luck,” Yeosang said, patting his shoulder before swiftly walking away. The others followed suit, not wanting to get dragged into the mess.

Seonghwa huffed before begrudgingly turning on his heel and stomping back toward the tent.

Meanwhile, Yunho and Mingi stood outside of Wooyoung and San’s tent, their ears practically glued to the thin fabric.

“So what do you think they’re talking about now?” Mingi whispered, grinning mischievously.

“Probably more sappy shit,” Yunho murmured. “San was still crying a little, but—”

They paused, hearing a soft whisper from inside. Then a sharp inhale.

“Oh?” Yunho smirked.

“Oh,” Mingi echoed, eyes widening.

The soft sighs quickly escalated into something more… suggestive.

Just as things were getting real interesting, a sharp pain shot through their ears as Seonghwa’s hands grabbed them both and yanked them upward.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING?!” he whisper-yelled, glaring daggers at them.

“AH—SEONGHWA, LET GO—” Mingi whined, squirming under the iron grip.

“We were just—AH—gathering intel—” Yunho tried to defend himself, wincing.

“Intel?!” Seonghwa hissed.

Before he could truly let loose on them, a sudden, sharp cry pierced the air from inside the tent.

All three of them froze.

Then—

A loud, drawn-out moan.

Seonghwa’s eye twitched.

Another whimper. A groan.

Mingi and Yunho slowly turned to look at each other, blinking.

“…Damn, Wooyoung’s really giving it,” Mingi muttered.

Yunho nodded, an impressed smirk on his lips. “San’s really loud in bed, huh?”

Seonghwa gawked at them. “ARE YOU TWO SERIOUSLY COMMENTING ON THIS?!”

Before they could reply, Wooyoung’s voice suddenly cut through the air—sultry and teasing.

“Oh, baby, you like it when I—”

Seonghwa immediately snapped out of his trance, yanking both Yunho and Mingi by their collars.

“NOPE. NOPE. NOPE.” He practically dragged them away from the tent, their feet barely touching the ground.

“Wait, but I wanted to—” Mingi started.

“I do not care,” Seonghwa hissed, his face completely red.

“I just wanted to know what he was about to say—” Yunho whined.

Seonghwa tightened his grip.

“NOT ANOTHER WORD.”

As Seonghwa dragged them further away, a loud, desperate whine echoed from the tent.

"Woo, please—"

All three of them stumbled mid-step.

Mingi let out a wheeze. “Oh my god—”

Yunho clamped a hand over his mouth, his body shaking with suppressed laughter.

Seonghwa, on the other hand, looked like he was about to combust. His grip on their collars tightened to an almost choking degree.

"FASTER. MOVE FASTER," he ordered, practically speed-walking them out of the danger zone.

Another breathy moan followed.

Mingi and Yunho exchanged a glance before bolting ahead, suddenly more than eager to escape.

Seonghwa groaned, rubbing his temples. "I hate it here."

---

A Messy Night Out

After a long day of packing up and cleaning from their camping trip, the group decided they deserved a proper night out.

The next evening, they found themselves at a lively restaurant, the air filled with laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the warm buzz of conversation.

It was a rare chance to unwind—good food, good company, and, of course, plenty of drinks to go around.

Jongho sat at the head of the table, a stoic presence as he downed another shot of hard liquor without even flinching. The others had stopped trying to match his pace after the first few rounds—it was a battle they were doomed to lose.

"How... how does he do that?" Mingi whispered to Yunho, eyes wide as Jongho casually poured himself another drink, as unaffected as if he were drinking water.

"No soul," Wooyoung answered instead, leaning against his chair. "No emotions. No weaknesses."

Jongho arched a brow but didn’t bother responding.

Meanwhile, Hongjoong, already a few drinks in, was getting increasingly riled up about something Yeosang had said earlier. "No, but listen—listen, Yeosang. You don’t understand. I *could* fight a raccoon. I know you doubt me, but I swear to God, if it came down to it—"

"You wouldn't win," Yeosang interrupted, his words slow and deliberate, his usual cool composure slightly melted by the alcohol. His cheeks were dusted pink, his lips curved into an adorable little smile.

"I *would* win," Hongjoong insisted, banging his fist on the table. "Yunho, back me up!"

Yunho, already in his happy-drunk phase, chuckled as he swirled his drink. "I mean, I think it depends on the raccoon. Some of them are, like, *really* aggressive, you know?"

"You guys have the dumbest conversations when you're drunk," Seonghwa muttered, rubbing his temples. He was already looking a little out of it, his usual graceful demeanor slipping with every sip.

And then there was San.

San, who had downed two shots way too fast, was already completely plastered. His entire face was as red as a tomato, his eyes dazed and unfocused as he clung onto Wooyoung like a lifeline.

"Wooyounggg," San whined, draping himself over Wooyoung’s shoulders, his voice slow and syrupy. "You're so warm. So soft. So—"

"San," Wooyoung warned, laughing as he tried to pry him off. But he was weak—**so weak**—when San was like this. His usual sharp tongue was nowhere to be found as San nuzzled against his neck, his arms locked tightly around Wooyoung’s waist.

"Let me stay like this," San murmured, his breath tickling Wooyoung’s skin. "You smell nice. You’re so... comfy."

Wooyoung swallowed hard, feeling heat creep up his own neck. "I—uh. I mean, yeah, okay—"

Yeosang, still smiling cutely, tilted his head. "Wooyoung, you’re turning red too."

Mingi snorted. "Oh, he’s so gone."

At first, the others let it slide. It was just clingy San, nothing unusual. But then Wooyoung’s hands started to wander, his fingers lazily tracing circles on San’s back, his lips dangerously close to San’s ear as he whispered something that made San shudder in response.

San turned his head slightly, their noses brushing. His fingers curled around Wooyoung’s shirt, eyes half-lidded, and the entire restaurant seemed to fade into the background.

Then Wooyoung moved, shifting slightly so that San was practically straddling his thigh.

Yeosang blinked. "Oh."

Yunho coughed. "Uhh—"

Hongjoong’s eyes widened in alarm. "Wait. WAIT—"

Wooyoung tilted San’s chin up, his lips ghosting over San’s. "Should we—"

"NO, YOU SHOULD NOT."

Seonghwa, with the last ounce of his sober energy, reached across the table and yanked San back by the collar while Hongjoong physically grabbed Wooyoung’s face and turned him *away*.

"Absolutely not," Seonghwa hissed, glaring at them both.

"You two need to control yourselves," Hongjoong scolded, still holding Wooyoung’s face. "This is a *restaurant*, not your bedroom!"

Wooyoung, still dazed, blinked. "But San’s being so—"

"NO," Yunho, Mingi, and Yeosang all cut in at once.

San, oblivious, only pouted, reaching for Wooyoung again. "But I want him—"

Mingi shot up from his seat. "ALRIGHT, TIME TO GO."

In the end, it took Yunho and Mingi physically separating the two, while Seonghwa and Hongjoong kept a close watch to make sure they didn’t try anything stupid.

And Jongho?

He simply took another shot, unfazed by the absolute chaos.

---

Dinner 2.0

San should be used to this by now.

Wooyoung had no shame—absolutely none. Whether they were in the privacy of their room or sitting in a public restaurant with their friends, he didn’t seem to care. And tonight was no different.

San sat stiffly beside Wooyoung, trying to focus on his meal, but Wooyoung had other plans. He leaned in close, his breath warm against San’s ear, and whispered, “You felt so good last night.”

San’s chopsticks faltered. He didn’t react—at least, not externally. He kept his face blank, shoving a piece of meat into his mouth as if he hadn’t heard anything.

Wooyoung, undeterred, smirked. He shifted even closer, his lips barely grazing San’s ear this time. “I miss your taste.”

San choked.

Mingi, sitting across from them, raised a brow. "You okay?"

San coughed into his fist, nodding quickly. "Yeah. Yeah, just... spicy."

Wooyoung chuckled lowly, clearly enjoying himself. "Spicy, huh?" His hand slid under the table, dangerously close to San’s thigh. Then, as if he weren’t already testing all of San’s patience, he added in a whisper only for him, "Kinda feeling empty right now."

San gripped his chopsticks harder.

He wasn’t going to react. He would not react.

But Wooyoung wasn’t done. No, he had to push it further. With a dramatic sigh, he murmured, “God, my dick’s itchy. Wish someone could scratch it off.”

San inhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw clenching so hard he thought it might snap. He turned slightly, narrowing his eyes. "Are you seriously saying that right now?"

Wooyoung blinked at him innocently. "What? Just speaking my truth."

San exhaled, forcing himself to keep his composure. He still had some dignity left. He could endure this. He had to endure this.

But deep down?

Yeah, he was horny as hell.

Wooyoung always had that effect on him, damn it. The way he spoke, the way his voice dropped just enough to send shivers down San’s spine, the way his fingers traced invisible patterns on San’s thigh under the table—it was infuriating how much game he had.

Still, San refused to give him the satisfaction.

Wooyoung must’ve noticed, because after a while, he finally slowed it down, leaning back in his chair with a small, satisfied smirk.

San thought he was in the clear.

Then, the waitress came.

She was pretty—long hair, a bright smile, and just a little too much enthusiasm when she spoke to Wooyoung.

"And here’s your drink," she said sweetly, setting it down in front of him with a wink. "Let me know if you need anything else, okay?"

San’s eye twitched.

Wooyoung, being the oblivious (or just plain dumb) bastard he was, simply nodded. "Oh, thanks! That’s really nice of you."

San clenched his jaw.

Nice? Nice?!

That was not just kindness. She was flirting.

And San? He was so done.

Without saying a word, he lifted his leg under the table and stroked his foot slowly along Wooyoung’s calf.

Wooyoung visibly stiffened.

His spoon clattered onto his plate.

San, finally turning to look at him, smirked—his eyes dark and glinting with mischief.

Wooyoung swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He let out a quiet, frustrated groan before suddenly pushing back his chair and standing up.

"I need the bathroom," he muttered, barely sparing anyone a glance as he rushed off.

San blinked, watching him go. Oh?

Curious, he stood up as well. "I’ll be back too."

Mingi and Yunho exchanged looks. "Bro."

Seonghwa rubbed his temples. "I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know."

San ignored them, following after Wooyoung.

The moment he stepped inside the dimly lit restroom, he called out, "Wooyoung?"

Before he could even process what was happening, a strong hand grabbed his wrist, yanked him toward the back, and shoved him into the last cubicle.

The door locked behind them with a sharp click.

Wooyoung pressed him against the door, his eyes dark with something dangerous, something wild. "You wanna play with me, huh?" His voice was a low drawl as he slowly started untying his tie.

San exhaled shakily, his pulse hammering in his ears.

Oh, he was so fucked.

San barely had a second to react before Wooyoung crashed their lips together, rough and desperate, like he had been starving for this moment.

San melted into it, his fingers gripping onto Wooyoung’s shirt as their bodies pressed together. Wooyoung’s hands roamed greedily, sliding up San’s waist, over his chest, then back down to his hips, gripping tightly like he wanted to leave bruises.

Their tongues tangled, breaths heavy and fast. San barely registered the way Wooyoung was pushing him further back against the cold stall door, too lost in the heat of the kiss.

Then, Wooyoung pulled back just enough to murmur, "Let’s make it quick."

Before San could even comprehend those words, he felt himself being spun around, his chest pressed against the door. Wooyoung’s hands were quick, yanking down San’s pants with a hunger that sent a thrill straight through him.

San gasped, his face burning. "W-Wooyoung—"

"When we get home, it’s my turn," Wooyoung growled in his ear, voice dripping with wicked promise.

San clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle the moan that threatened to spill out.

It was reckless. It was stupid. It was absolutely insane.

And he loved it.

Meanwhile, back at the table, the group sat in tense silence.

Yeosang and Jongho exchanged a long look before Yeosang finally asked, "Shouldn’t someone stop them?"

Seonghwa didn’t even glance up from his drink. "Nope. I don’t want to enter another voyeuristic nightmare."

Hongjoong, however, smirked, leaning back in his seat as he sipped his drink. "Let them be. Let them have their own experience, you know? Public toilet fucks aren’t that bad."

Seonghwa choked on air, face crumbling into deep redness.

The others groaned, rolling their eyes as Mingi dramatically leaned back in his chair. "God, please make me deaf. I cannot listen to this conversation."

"Too late," Yunho muttered, rubbing his temples.

"Just pretend this isn’t happening," Jongho sighed, picking at his food.

The only problem? It was definitely happening.

And no one dared to go check.

---

Only Yours

Valentine’s Day had always been the same for Wooyoung—free food, endless chocolates, and flirty messages from admirers who never seemed to care that he was taken. He never thought much of it; being naturally friendly made people comfortable around him, and if that meant getting free sweets, who was he to complain?

But for San, it was different.

San watched, trying so hard not to let his irritation show as Wooyoung accepted box after box of chocolates, flashing that dazzling smile of his. Some admirers were bolder than others, slipping in flirtatious remarks that made San’s blood boil.

"You’re really dating him? But you could do so much better, Wooyoung."

"If you ever get bored, you know where to find me."

"How about you ditch him and try something more exciting?"

San clenched his fists, his jaw tight, but Wooyoung? He just laughed, shrugged them off like they were nothing, stuffing chocolates into his bag like it was just another normal day. Of course he didn’t care—why would he? Wooyoung was used to this. It happened every year.

But San wasn’t.

He hated how shameless people could be. How they flirted so openly with someone who was already taken. How they acted like San wasn’t right there. And most of all—he hated how easy it was for them. Meanwhile, he still got shy about holding Wooyoung’s hand in public.

So, San pouted. The whole day.

He gave Wooyoung the silent treatment, barely speaking more than a word to him. But the moment they were in public? He clung to Wooyoung like a lifeline—wrapping his arms around him, whispering in his ear, leaning in way too close.

Wooyoung, being the clueless idiot he was, was so confused.

“Are they… making out?” Yunho whispered, nudging Yeosang.

“Not yet, but give them five minutes,” Mingi smirked.

“Go get a room,” Jongho deadpanned, rolling his eyes.

Under normal circumstances, Wooyoung would’ve been shameless—he’d definitely play along, get touchy, maybe even tease San in front of everyone. But something felt off.

San wasn’t being himself.

So that night, when they finally returned home, Wooyoung wasted no time.

“Alright, spill.” Wooyoung crossed his arms, standing in front of San, who was stubbornly avoiding his gaze. “What’s with you today? You’ve been pouting and clinging onto me like you’re scared I’m gonna disappear.”

San still didn’t speak. He just huffed, flopping onto their bed and burying his face in a pillow.

Wooyoung sighed, sitting beside him. “San, you don’t have to worry about how I feel. You know you’re the only one I see, right?” His voice softened as he reached out, brushing his fingers through San’s hair. “You trust me, don’t you?”

Finally, San broke his silence—with a whine.

“I do trust you,” he mumbled, turning his head just enough to peek at Wooyoung. “But I don’t trust them.”

Wooyoung blinked. “Huh?”

“They’re trying so hard to steal you from me,” San muttered, his lips pursed in frustration. “They don’t even care that we’re together. They just say whatever they want. And I—I can’t even—” He stopped, gritting his teeth.

Wooyoung just chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to San’s forehead. “Baby,” he murmured, still running his fingers through San’s soft hair. “Let them say whatever they want. It doesn’t matter. I’m yours. Only yours.”

San didn’t respond right away. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, lips pursed in that stubborn way Wooyoung had seen too many times before. The pout was cute—too cute—but Wooyoung knew better than to say that right now unless he wanted to get smacked.

After a long moment, San finally exhaled, his body losing some of its tension. “…You better be,” he mumbled, voice small but laced with unmistakable sulkiness.

Wooyoung laughed softly, tucking a strand of hair behind San’s ear. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, you know.”

San scoffed but still wouldn’t look at him. “I’m not jealous.”

Wooyoung tilted his head, amused. “Oh, really? So you weren’t pouting all day? Giving me the silent treatment? Clinging to me in public like you were trying to fuse our bodies together?”

San’s ears burned red, but he stayed defiant. “I was just… making sure people knew you’re taken.”

“Oh? So you were jealous.”

San groaned, burying his face back into the pillow.

Wooyoung grinned, taking the chance to pepper tiny kisses along San’s temple, his cheek, down to his jaw. “Baby, you’re so cute when you’re jealous. But you don’t have to be. No one else even comes close.”

San peeked up at him through his lashes, eyes still filled with lingering frustration. “…But they’re so shameless. They don’t even care that we’re together.”

Wooyoung hummed, resting his chin on San’s shoulder. “And? Let them throw themselves at me. It doesn’t change anything.” He lifted San’s hand, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles before lacing their fingers together. “You’re the only one I see. The only one I want.”

San swallowed, looking down at their joined hands. The insecurity still lingered in his chest, but with Wooyoung holding him like this, whispering those words so easily, it was hard to keep his walls up.

Wooyoung smiled, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “You trust me, don’t you?”

San hesitated, then finally sighed, his shoulders loosening as he melted into Wooyoung’s touch. “…Of course, I do.”

Wooyoung’s grin widened. “Then that’s all that matters.”

San let himself sink into Wooyoung’s arms, hiding his face in the crook of his neck. “I still hate how they look at you,” he muttered.

Wooyoung let out a soft laugh, pressing a kiss to the side of San’s head. “Good. Then keep looking at me like you own me. Because you do.”

San huffed, but Wooyoung could feel the way his body relaxed against him, the tension easing bit by bit. Still, Wooyoung knew this wasn’t something that could just be solved with a few sweet words. He tightened his arms around San, voice turning softer.

“But, baby,” he murmured, resting his chin on top of San’s head, “you can’t keep this stuff to yourself every time you feel jealous or upset. It’s not good for you. It’s not good for us.”

San stayed quiet, his fingers gripping the fabric of Wooyoung’s shirt.

“I know jealousy sucks,” Wooyoung continued, voice patient and gentle. “I know exactly how it feels—because, trust me, every time I catch some junior checking you out, I feel like I wanna grab you and lock you in a damn box so no one else can even think about you.”

He sighed, fingers rubbing soothing circles into San’s back. “But I know that’s not fair. I can’t control what other people think, and I shouldn’t try to control you either. Your body isn’t mine to own, San. It’s yours.”

San lifted his head slightly, blinking up at Wooyoung. His lips parted as if to protest, but Wooyoung beat him to it.

“I know, I know,” Wooyoung smiled, brushing his thumb over San’s cheek. “You’ve already given me your everything. And I love that. I love you.” His voice dropped to a softer, more sincere tone.

“But, baby, you are also everything to me. So I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to bottle things up, or act differently just because you’re scared of losing me.”

San swallowed, looking down. “I just… I want you to be happy.”

Wooyoung lifted his chin, making San meet his gaze. “I am happy. But I want you to be happy, too. I want you to have what you want, just like you want me to have what I want.”

He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to San’s lips, as if sealing his promise. “And what I want is you. Only you.”

San exhaled slowly, finally allowing himself to fully melt into Wooyoung’s embrace. The insecurity still lingered in the back of his mind, but with Wooyoung’s arms around him, whispering those gentle reassurances, it felt so much smaller—so much easier to let go.

“…Okay,” he mumbled, his voice small but full of trust.

Wooyoung smiled, cradling the back of San’s head. “Good.”

San let out a tiny sigh, nuzzling into Wooyoung’s chest. “…Still gonna glare at people who flirt with you, though.”

Wooyoung chuckled, running his fingers through San’s hair. “As you should.”

San stayed quiet for a moment before mumbling, “It’s kind of embarrassing when you act all smart and mature like this…”

Wooyoung pulled back slightly, raising a brow. “What do you mean?” he asked, feigning offense. “Are you saying I’m not usually smart and mature?”

San peeked up at him with a small pout. “You’re usually just… you—loud, annoying, shameless.”

Wooyoung gasped dramatically. “Excuse me?! I give you one heartfelt speech, and suddenly I’m out of character?”

San huffed, but his lips twitched like he was trying not to smile. “Yeah. It’s weird.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes before pulling San even closer. “Fine. Next time, I’ll just let you sulk and be jealous in peace.”

San immediately tightened his grip around Wooyoung’s waist. “…Don’t.”

Wooyoung smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

---

The sun was high, casting a golden glow over the park, while the scent of fried food, cotton candy, and sunscreen filled the air.

The eight of them had been looking forward to this trip for weeks, and now that they were finally here, excitement buzzed between them like electricity.

"Alright, where to first?" Hongjoong asked, scanning the map as they stepped through the entrance.

"Rollercoasters. Obviously," Yeosang said, already marching forward.

"Food first," Jongho countered, eyeing a churro stand like it had personally called his name.

"You're always thinking about food," Seonghwa sighed.

"Because I have taste," Jongho shot back.

San chuckled as he glanced to his side, only to find Wooyoung already latched onto his arm, eyes sparkling with excitement.

"We should go on the biggest one first," Wooyoung suggested, tugging San toward the towering structure of Goliath in the distance.

San raised a brow. "You're not gonna chicken out?"

Wooyoung scoffed. "Me? Never."

"Didn't you scream like a little kid the last time we went to an amusement park?"

"That was different!" Wooyoung huffed, puffing out his chest dramatically. "That ride was cursed. Had bad vibes."

"Uh-huh," San said, unconvinced, but let Wooyoung drag him along anyway.

The group stood at the base of Goliath, the massive roller coaster towering above them like a beast of metal and terror.

The terrifying loops and gut-wrenching drops made it look like a roller coaster straight out of a nightmare. The train before them shot up the steep incline, and as it plummeted down, the deafening screams of passengers reached their ears.

Seonghwa gulped loudly, taking an exaggerated step back. "Uh, maybe we should... grab a snack first?"

Hongjoong, not even pretending to be calm, was already on his phone. "I'm texting my mom. Just... in case."

Yunho and Jongho were practically vibrating with excitement, jumping in place like they couldn’t wait to get on.

"This is gonna be epic!" Yunho grinned, his voice almost as high-pitched as his excitement.

Jongho nodded enthusiastically. "I hope it’s faster than it looks!"

Mingi, however, smiled through what could only be described as sheer, visible pain. "Haha... yeah... fun…" he mumbled, his face a mixture of dread and forced enthusiasm.

Yeosang, on the other hand, nodded silently, overcompensating for his nerves. "I’m not scared," he muttered under his breath, but his body language screamed everything but confident.

San, who had been sighing dramatically for the last five minutes, wiped his clammy palms against his jeans, his eyes darting nervously to the intimidating Goliath track.

Wooyoung, his usual bravado slipping for once, squeezed San’s hand. "You ready, babe?"

San glared at him, a touch of panic in his voice. "I—I don’t know. This looks like the end of me."

Wooyoung, clearly just as nervous, tried to act tough. "Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. We’re together, right?"

San groaned, rubbing his face. "Yeah, but… we’re probably going to die together."

As they approached the ride, they could hear the screams of people already on the track, and San was not reassured.

"Last chance to back out?" Wooyoung asked, looking at the ride with apprehension in his eyes.

San shot him a frantic look. "You’re the one who dragged me here!"

Seonghwa, meanwhile, was openly clutching his stomach, muttering about how he regretted all his life choices. Hongjoong was too busy texting to notice.

The train before them rattled up the incline, and San started to squirm. "This is taking way too long!"

Wooyoung, despite his nerves, tried to lighten the mood. "Come on, we’re in it now, no backing out."

San looked at him, trying to suppress the growing panic. "I really wish we could back out."

The train slowly made its way up, clicking and groaning like it was going to eat them alive.

"I regret everything," Wooyoung muttered under his breath.

San swallowed hard, a nervous laugh escaping him. "Join the club."

As the train crested the peak, the world seemed to stop. Everything was silent—until the drop.

The Goliath dropped like a rock.

"STOP! STOP! STOP!" San screamed, voice pitching high.

Wooyoung? Well, Wooyoung just barked.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" San cried, eyes wide as Wooyoung let out a yelping, dog-like sound.

"I CAN’T HELP IT!" Wooyoung yelled, his hands clutching onto San like his life depended on it.

Behind them, Mingi was having a complete existential crisis, muttering, I wanna go home.

Hongjoong’s soul had evaporated. He was praying on his phone.

Seonghwa was silently questioning every single decision he had ever made in his life.

Yeosang? Still nodding. Too much nodding.

Jongho and Yunho? Loving every second of it.

The ride seemed endless, but finally, they were back on solid ground. Wooyoung was hanging onto San, wobbling like he had just been through an earthquake.

"That was the worst—and also the best thing I’ve ever done," Wooyoung said, still trying to catch his breath, clinging to San as if he might fall apart.

San was pale, but he managed a weak laugh. "You barked."

"I don’t even know why I did that!" Wooyoung laughed, his hand still gripping San's as though the ride had just been a warm-up for something far worse.

"You're lucky we survived," San said, rolling his eyes. "I thought I was gonna die."

Seonghwa, finally recovering, leaned over to Wooyoung. "You screamed like a dog," he said dryly.

Wooyoung puffed his chest out in defense. "It was a theatrical scream, okay?"

San shot him a smug look, squeezing his hand. "Sure, babe. Whatever you say."

Wooyoung leaned in closer, eyes sparkling with mischief. "I’m still your favorite, right?"

"Ugh," San groaned, but squeezed his hand tighter. "Unfortunately."

Meanwhile, Mingi was standing off to the side, still holding his stomach as if he was trying to hold his intestines in place. "I think I'm going to throw up," he muttered, grimacing. "That was... that was too much."

Yeosang, who had seemed totally unfazed earlier, was now clutching the nearest railing and staring into space like he'd just been spiritually disconnected from his body. "I think I lost a few years of my life," he murmured, blinking rapidly. "Why did I say I wasn’t scared?"

Hongjoong was the worst off, though. He was pale and clutching his phone like it was a lifeline. "I’m never doing that again," he said, voice shaking as he sent a frantic text. "I should’ve brought a helmet. A helmet would have saved me."

Seonghwa, despite his earlier bravado, looked as if he’d just stepped out of a disaster movie. His hair was a mess, and he was still trying to gather his composure. "I need a drink," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "A strong one."

Jongho was the only one who looked genuinely exhilarated. His eyes were wide, and he was grinning ear to ear. "That was amazing!" he said, bouncing on his heels. "I want to go again!"

Yunho, standing beside him, smirked at the group. "Some people know how to handle their fear," he teased. "You guys are all acting like you just survived a war."

Mingi shot him a death glare. "You didn’t even scream, Yunho," he groaned. "I think it’s because you didn’t have anything left in your body after that drop."

Wooyoung looked over at Yunho and raised an eyebrow. "What about you, then? You looked like you were enjoying yourself," he teased, throwing his arm around San's shoulder in a way that made San roll his eyes.

"Don't remind me," Hongjoong muttered, holding his stomach. "I need to find a bench before I faint."

Seonghwa, in his typical deadpan style, looked at the group and said, "Well, now that we’re all here and alive, I think I’ll go buy a drink. A non-alcoholic one, because apparently, that's what I need after that experience."

Wooyoung chuckled and nudged San playfully. "Come on, babe, we survived. Time to make memories, not just regret."

"Yeah," San grumbled, but a smile tugged at his lips as he tightened his hold on Wooyoung's hand. "I guess we did."

As the group continued to recover in their own ways, Wooyoung and San exchanged a quiet moment. Despite the chaos, the discomfort, and all the terror of the ride, they were both still there together, hand in hand.

After the ride, the group made their way to one of the food stands, hoping to calm their stomachs with some well-deserved treats.

The smell of freshly baked pretzels, churros, and hot dogs filled the air, making everyone’s mouths water despite the earlier adrenaline rush.

Wooyoung, still clinging to San’s side, grinned as he grabbed a pretzel, tearing off a piece and popping it into his mouth. "This is what I needed. Comfort food."

San nodded, nibbling on a churro with a satisfied sigh. "Yeah, I feel better now." He glanced around, noting how everyone seemed to be slowly returning to normal.

Jongho and Yunho were already engaged in a lively discussion about their next rides, and Mingi was still holding his stomach, but now with a content expression as he chewed on a pretzel.

However, the eyes of the group all turned to Seonghwa, who was sitting across from them, practically shoveling food into his mouth with no regard for the fact that they were in public.

He was devouring a churro with the kind of speed and focus that could only be described as impressive—or concerning.

Hongjoong, who was trying his best to act normal, muttered under his breath, "Thank god we ate after the ride."

"Agreed," Yeosang added, barely able to keep his composure. "Seonghwa, are you sure you're not trying to eat the entire park?"

Seonghwa paused, churro halfway to his mouth, and raised an eyebrow. "What? I’m just hungry. What's the problem?" He then took another large bite.

Jongho snickered, nudging Yunho, who was trying not to laugh. "Seonghwa's always like this when he's hungry. I’m starting to think he could win an eating contest without even trying."

San shook his head with a smile, amused by Seonghwa’s lack of shame. "At least he’s enjoying himself."

Wooyoung, always the troublemaker, leaned in and whispered to San with a mischievous grin. "I think he's secretly trying to eat faster than everyone else so he can say he won."

San couldn't help but chuckle. "I’m sure he’ll get there. We better keep an eye on him, though. Last thing we need is for him to get food poisoning."

Seonghwa just rolled his eyes and continued eating, completely unbothered by the teasing. "I don’t need a lecture. I’m just living my best life."

As the group continued to eat and chat, the mood lightened. Laughter filled the air as everyone joked around, teasing Seonghwa about his eating habits and enjoying the moment of calm after the chaos of Goliath.

It was the kind of moment where the bond between them all felt even stronger, and despite the terrifying ride and their earlier nerves, they were all just happy to be together, sharing the simple joy of food and friendship.

After a few more rides—and Wooyoung nearly losing his voice on Twisted Colossus, where his shrill bark echoed through the air— they found themselves wandering through the carnival game section of the park.

The sound of laughter, shouting, and the clinking of coins filled the atmosphere, but the real spectacle was Wooyoung, who, still trying to recover from his previous outburst, was now rubbing his throat.

"You really did bark like a dog, didn’t you?" San teased, glancing over at him with a smirk.

"I—I don’t even know why it happened!" Wooyoung replied, wincing at the rawness in his voice. "I was just... so terrified! And then I just—barked."

San chuckled, nudging him playfully. "You really went all out. Some of the park security even came over to check on us, thinking a wild dog had appeared."

Wooyoung’s eyes widened, a mix of embarrassment and amusement flashing across his face. "What?! No way, seriously?"

San nodded, trying (and failing) to hide his laughter. "Yeah, they walked over with those walkie-talkies like they were ready to call animal control." He grinned. "I think they were just relieved it was you."

Wooyoung dramatically rolled his eyes. "You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?"

"Not a chance." San smirked, but his tone softened. "But hey, it was kind of cute."

As the group made their way through the carnival games, Wooyoung and San were still exchanging teasing glances, but the rest of the group couldn’t help but laugh along.

They might have been at Six Flags to have fun and enjoy the rides, but it was moments like this that made the day truly unforgettable.

"Alright, watch and learn," Wooyoung declared with a cocky grin, stepping up to the basketball game booth. He puffed his chest out, clearly proud of his confidence.

San raised an eyebrow. "You? Win at a game that requires hand-eye coordination?"

Wooyoung gasped in mock offense. "Excuse you, I have great hand-eye coordination!"

"Name one time you've—"

Before San could finish, Wooyoung immediately cut him off with a dramatic flick of his wrist. "Not the point."

With a flourish, Wooyoung grabbed the basketball, lined up his shot, and threw it with confidence—only for it to bounce off the rim and hit the side so badly it nearly knocked Yeosang in the head. Yeosang dodged it with a sigh, unimpressed.

San snorted. "Great skills, babe."

Wooyoung narrowed his eyes, ignoring San's teasing. "That was just a warm-up," he said, grabbing another ball. "Watch this."

Another miss.

And another.

By the fourth try, San was struggling to hold back his laughter, while Wooyoung's face was turning red with frustration.

"This game is rigged!" Wooyoung muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

San couldn't help it anymore and burst out laughing. "Sure it is," he teased, patting Wooyoung's head as if he were a child throwing a tantrum.

Wooyoung glared at him. "You do it then!" He shoved the ball toward San, as if daring him to fail.

With a smirk, San took the ball and effortlessly lined up his shot. He threw it with ease—nothing but net.

Wooyoung's jaw dropped. "Are you kidding me?"

Yeosang laughed, clapping San on the back. "You should've bet something."

"I was going to win him something," Wooyoung grumbled, still in disbelief.

San leaned down and kissed his cheek, feeling playful. "It's okay. I don’t need a prize."

Wooyoung crossed his arms, eyes twinkling mischievously. "Yeah, because I’m the prize."

San rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "You really are."

Wooyoung immediately melted, his pout completely gone. "Damn right I am."

After the basketball disaster, the group moved on to the shooting game section, where Wooyoung was determined to redeem himself.

As they lined up to play, Seonghwa went first, adjusting his stance with practiced ease. His shots were clean and precise, one after the other, barely missing a single target.

“Show-off,” Wooyoung muttered under his breath.

Seonghwa gave him a smug look as the game ended, his score just enough to win a small prize. He casually picked out a stuffed bunny, tossing it over to Hongjoong, who caught it with a chuckle.

San was up next. He cracked his knuckles, squinting at the targets as if he were about to unlock some hidden talent. With careful aim, he fired off his shots one by one.

He started strong, knocking down most of them, his confidence growing—until the last few seconds. The final target teetered on the edge but refused to fall before the buzzer rang.

San let out an exaggerated gasp, looking at his score. "No way! I was this close to winning!" He pouted, dramatically throwing his head back.

Seonghwa smirked, patting San on the shoulder. "Almost, buddy."

San sighed, turning to Wooyoung, who was stepping up next. "Great. Now I have to watch him be annoying about this."

Wooyoung, still hyped from Seonghwa and San’s attempts, confidently grabbed the toy gun, sizing up the targets with his usual flair. “I got this,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders. "I'm the best shot here."

San raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that? I’ve seen you struggle with aiming at a basketball."

Wooyoung scoffed. "Please, that was just a fluke. This is different. This requires skill." He smirked. "And lucky for you, babe, I have plenty."

"Debatable," San teased.

Wooyoung ignored him, lining up his first shot—and to everyone’s surprise, nailed the target perfectly. Then another. And another. His shots were fast and precise, his hands steady as he knocked down every single one.

The others stared, wide-eyed. Even Yeosang blinked in disbelief.

"Did Wooyoung just… get good at something?" Hongjoong muttered to Seonghwa.

Seonghwa crossed his arms, still watching Wooyoung land every shot. “I guess so. Who knew he had it in him?”

San, still sulking from his near-win, watched in shock as Wooyoung’s score kept climbing. His jaw slackened slightly. "You're kidding."

Seonghwa, unimpressed, sighed. "Of course, he would be good at something when it matters the least."

San turned to Wooyoung, narrowing his eyes. "You planned this, didn’t you?"

Wooyoung, still focused, didn’t respond until he hit the final target. The booth operator whistled, clearly impressed, and handed him a large stuffed animal as a prize.

Wooyoung turned, flashing a cocky grin. "What did I tell you? I’m full of surprises."

San crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "You were struggling at basketball five minutes ago."

Wooyoung slung an arm around San’s shoulder, squeezing him playfully. “Well, what can I say? I’m just naturally talented.” He held up the stuffed prize. "Guess I'm the best at this too."

San, catching onto Wooyoung’s shameless confidence, hummed thoughtfully before leaning in slightly. "Mm, lucky me. Guess I bagged the real prize, huh?"

Wooyoung blinked before his smirk grew wider. "Damn right you did."

Seonghwa, standing between them, rolled his eyes and took a step back. “I swear, I’m always third-wheeling with you two.”

Wooyoung turned to Seonghwa, smug. “You love it.”

“I tolerate it,” Seonghwa corrected.

San, still eyeing the stuffed animal in Wooyoung’s arms, sighed dramatically. "I should've won that."

"You should have," Wooyoung teased. "But hey, don't worry. I'll share my prize with you."

San gave him a skeptical look. "Really?"

Wooyoung grinned. "No."

San groaned, and the group burst into laughter as they left the booth, Seonghwa still looking like he regretted tagging along.

As the day wore on, the group queued up for yet another ride when Hongjoong did a quick headcount—then frowned. "Wait… where are San and Wooyoung?"

"Ignore them," Seonghwa sighed. "They probably went to fuck somewhere again."

Hongjoong shot him a sharp look. "Language."

Seonghwa blinked before muttering a quick, “Whoops.”

Mingi and Yunho exchanged a knowing look, silently agreeing that Seonghwa wasn’t exactly wrong.

Meanwhile, Yeosang and Jongho, looking thoroughly unimpressed, barely reacted, their expressions bored as if they'd heard this a million times before.

"Honestly, they could be anywhere," Jongho muttered, crossing his arms. "Probably being disgusting in public again."

Yeosang sighed. "Let’s just hope they don’t hold up the line for us."

Hongjoong shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I swear, those two need supervision."

Seonghwa cleared his throat and waved a dismissive hand. "Point is, they’re adults now. We can’t control them anymore." He let out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart before wiping a fake tear. "My baby kitty San has grown up… dating a shameless kid. He’s slowly being corrupted."

Hongjoong gave him a disgusted look. "When did you birth the cat? Who’s the father?"

Seonghwa turned to him without missing a beat. "You."

"Ughh," Hongjoong groaned, shuddering.

Mingi and Yunho exchanged an amused glance, trying to hold back their laughter, while Yeosang and Jongho remained unbothered, clearly used to the nonsense.

"Can we just get on the ride already?" Jongho muttered.

"Yeah, before Seonghwa starts writing a tragic novel about San’s downfall," Yeosang added dryly.

Seonghwa ignored them, still fake-sobbing. "My poor, innocent San…"

Hongjoong scoffed, crossing his arms. "Please. That man lost his innocence the moment he started dating Wooyoung."

Meanwhile, San and Wooyoung had successfully sneaked away, strolling through the park hand in hand.

"You know they’re gonna scold us later," San murmured, but he made no effort to turn back.

Wooyoung hummed, swinging their hands between them. "Eh. Worth it. I want you all to myself."

San sighed, feigning exasperation, but his fingers curled tighter around Wooyoung’s.

They wandered through the quieter parts of the park, stopping to share ice cream, playing ring toss (which Wooyoung also failed at), and teasing each other endlessly.

It felt like time slowed just for them, just for these soft moments where it was only the two of them in their own little bubble.

As the sky deepened into hues of orange and pink, they found themselves standing in front of the Ferris wheel, the soft glow of the evening casting a golden sheen over the park.

Wooyoung gasped dramatically, grabbing San’s arm. "We have to do it."

San raised a brow. "This is so cliché."

Wooyoung pouted instantly, eyes wide and pleading. "So? Be cliché with me."

San exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. "No."

Wooyoung’s pout deepened as he clung to San’s arm, shaking it slightly. "Sannnn, please. Pretty please. It’s romantic. It’s destiny. It’s—"

"Annoying," San deadpanned, though the fondness in his voice betrayed him.

Wooyoung gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "How dare you! After everything we’ve been through? After all my love and devotion?"

San sighed, fighting the inevitable smile creeping onto his lips. "You’re not going to stop until I say yes, are you?"

Wooyoung grinned. "Nope!"

San rolled his eyes but let himself be dragged toward the gondola, shaking his head. "You’re lucky I love you."

"I am lucky," Wooyoung said proudly, squeezing his hand. "And you’re lucky I love you more."

As they slowly ascended, the world stretched out beneath them, bathed in soft golden light. The laughter and chatter of the park faded, replaced by a quiet kind of magic.

Wooyoung, for once, wasn’t looking at the view—he was looking at San. His expression softened, his grip on San’s hand tightening just a little. "You know… I could spend forever like this," he murmured.

San turned his head, catching the look in Wooyoung’s eyes, and his heart stuttered. "...Like what?"

"Just us," Wooyoung whispered. "No distractions. No one else. Just you and me. Through the highs, the lows… all of it."

San swallowed, warmth blooming in his chest, wrapping around his ribs like a quiet promise. "...Maybe a little bit of cliché isn’t so bad."

Wooyoung beamed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. And when they reached the very top, he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to San’s lips.

San melted into it, feeling the world blur around them until there was only Wooyoung—the way he tasted like spun sugar and mischief, the way his hands were warm against his own.

As they pulled apart, San smiled against Wooyoung’s lips. "Fine. sometimes little bit of cliché is good."

Wooyoung brushed their noses together, grinning. "Told you so."

San chuckled, pressing their foreheads together. "Forever, huh?"

"Forever," Wooyoung whispered, fingers intertwining with San’s like a silent vow. "Through everything."

San squeezed his hand, sealing the promise. "Then forever it is."

The Ferris wheel descended, but neither of them cared—they had already found the best view right in front of them.

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