Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a day like every other, school started again a month ago after summer holidays and so did San have to see HIM again. Min Beomsoo, his crush since college started. Painfully enough for San, his crush is straight af.
So of course, when he‘s chilling with his friends Yunho and Mingi, Beomsoo has to pass him, incredibly close as well.

San holds his breath and tried to look away and when Beomsoo is finally out of sight, he lets out the biggest sigh he just had to hold in. „You know, only because he is straight does not mean you cant talk to him“ Yunho said.

San fiddles with the string of his zipped hoodie when he silently answers „Yeah well i KNOW that! But it will hurt even more so i just gonna live like i did the past years.“

„San. Lets be for real, it does NOT have to hurt, maybe you‘ll grow over it. Yeosang is also still friends with you even though he has a big crush on you-“ „But Yeosang is my friend since kindergarten!“ San interrupts Mingi.

„Its something different! Also he is hiding it pretty well and does not seem to be bothered by his feelings“ he sighs again. „We should go back to class, physics is gound to start any minute“ he said, before leading Yunho and Mingi to their shared lecture.

After a few more classes he went home with his brother Jongho, who happened to wait for him since he already had finished his last lecture an hour ago.

„Why are you looking like that? Another day of Beomsoo not noticing you?“ Jongho said, but all he got was a big angry but sad sideeye instead of an actual answer.

„Lets just play some games with Yunho and Mingi, i dont want to think about Beomsoo anyways.“ San finally said when they arrived at home. „Sure sure whatever you say big brother.“ again, only a sideeye from San, before he closes the door to his room and starts his computer.

After he gets himself something to drink, he starts discord and sees, that Mingi is already online. Of course, he is the one who lives the closest to the school, so he is the first at home as well.

San joined the Voice Chat and shorty after Jongho joined as well. „When will Yunho be here, hyung?“ Jongho asked Mingi, who was quick to reply „He‘ll be here in a few minutes, he said he just have to take a shit and then he‘ll come online.“ „TMI..“ San only said, as if he didn’t know how direct and not caring about stuff like that Mingi is.

And just in time, Yunho joins the Voice Chat as well. „Well well if this isn’t our shit-taking boy.“ Jongho said while giggling.

„So you told them, hm Mingi-ya? Why do you hate me so much?“ Yunho said, getting a „You know i dont hate you!“ from Mingi, who is audibly giggling as well.

Only San is silent.

Of course, he is in his thoughts, so why bother to listening to their shit talking, in the truest sense.

Only when he get called for the trillionst time by his friends he lets out a „hm?“

After deciding together what to play, they had some good and some not so good League games, before they switched to their shared Minecraft server to end the day more calmly (even tho Mingi still creeps out whenever he hears a zombie or creeper and running away while screaming, when he watched into the endermans eyes again, but that aside for now).

Soon they all say good night to each other, since they will see each other in school the next day.

So San goes to bed and thinks about something he is thinking about for quite a while, and it’s not about Beomsoo, well - at least not in the first place, because he thinks about Yeosang and something he told (and showed) San all those years ago, a secret, of which San never told anyone about and also does not plan to.

Yeosangs Shapeshifting ability.

While Yeosang does not use his ability to often since he does not sees a need to, San has an idea.

He knows yeosang will probably say no but knowing that he has a crush on San, of which Yeo does not know that San knows, it will be to his favor, right?

San wants to ask Yeosang to Shapeshift into Beomsoo when they‘re alone so that San can at least think that they are dating… maybe he will ask Yeo, maybe not, he still dont know if it might be to much to ask for, maybe Yeosang will hate him and dont want to be friends with him anymore?

San sighs, as if he didn’t the whole day, unsure what to do.

He would love to let go of Beomsoo, but easier said than done. So he fell asleep with the dame thoughts he fell asleep to the past few weeks. Would Yeosang help San or not? Well no one knows until San might ask him…

A few days later, only two hours of class before the weekend, San happens to have the same lecture as Yeosang, both of them sitting next to each other and listening to the repeatedly boring stuff their mathteacher tries to lecture them.

Yeosang always pays attention to, even if he understands everything and is one of the top students in class.

He feels like its the right thing to do, well, it is, right? San on the other side is not good but not bad in math, but he is never on the bottom side, even though he does not always pays fully attention, just like right now. He is looking at Yeosang, nearly staring, before wispering to him.

„Hey Yeo?“

„Hm?“ the older one replies.

„Are you, like, free on the weekend? My parents are both out of country for business so i thought you might come over?“ San asks slowly.

„Uhm, yeah sure i‘m free, are you like throwing a party? Will Yunho and Mingi be there as well? And can i bring Woo-“

„no its not a party“ San interrupts Yeosang. „It’s just… you and me, you know? No Mingi, no Yunho and no one else. Just the two of us like we did since we met back then. Is that okay?“

San asks, giving Yeo a big pleading pout, which Yeosang could never decline. So he agreed, even though he wonders what the reason is but San only said „just for fun“ so Yeosang went with it.

When class was finally over, they exchanged a few words, like when Yeosang can come over and if he should bring anything with him.

„No need, i have everything at home and my parents left a bit money as well, just in case.“ San told him.

And with that they said their goobyes, knowing they‘ll see each other again in less than three hours anyways. San saw Jongho standing a bit further away, waiting for him so he went straight into Jjongs direction.

„Yeosang comes over for the weekend, if thats not a problem for you?“ San says, knowing that Jongho never hat a problem with it.
In fact, Jongho really want San and Yeo to end up with each other since he knows about Yeosangs feelings for San, but this brat just cant let go of Beomsoo.

„No no, not a problem at all“ Jongho answers.

„In fact i‘m not at home anyways so i dont mind who comes over as long as you’re not throwing a party. I‘ll meet up with two classmates for a group project that has to be done till next week so don’t mind if i‘m not home before Sunday.“ he explained, knowing to well San would ask what he is up to anyways.

When the brothers arrived at home, Jongho made himself something to eat really quick, packed up his essentials and giving San a quick „I’m leaving, see ya!“ before he leaves.

And now San is alone.

A look on his phone tells him there is just around an hour left till Yeosang will be there, so he quickly takes a shower and cleaning up his already nearly clean room (he hates to clean so he tries to keep it as clean as possible to avoid work, except for the classic laundry chair) and then he sits down on the sofa in the living room, having around 20 minutes left to think about how exactly he can ask Yeosang about his favor without being punched in his face (Yeosang would never do this) and be left alone and loosing his most precious friend.

So he thinks and thinks and before he can come to a result, a doorbell ringing pulls him back to reality.

Yeosang just arrived.

It took San a few seconds to stuff back his nervousness to act as normal as possible in front of Yeosang, before he opens the door for him.

Yeosang immediately went for a greeting hug, just as always and San of course hugs him back, but struggled to let go again before Yeosang asked him whats wrong.

„Oh! Nothing at all, just felt like i want a longer hug haha“ San said and giggles awkwardly.

„Well come in, i thought about ordering food since u know.. i cant cook and mum is obviously not at home.“ he switches the theme but Yeosangs eyes widen a little because he was craving takeout anyways and since there is a new restaurant near by that he really wants to try out, he might be able to convince San to order there.

San of course sees the sparkling in Yeosangs eyes „oh i guess someone already has a plan what to eat?“.

„Yes!“ Yeosang answered.

„There is this new restaurant down the street that i wanted to try anyways, they have a big variety of everything, like pizza, pasta, burger, ramen, even sushi! Can we order there Sani?“ he asked with his puppy eyes.

-Adorable- San thinks, and of course he said yes, still in mind that everything could help him to really get Yeosangs help in the end.

And so they ordered.

Yeosang went with a simple spaghetti carbonara, he doesn’t want to go big since he doesn’t even know if the restaurant is good.

Also since San offered to pay, he didn’t wanted to waste all the money San parents left him.

San also went simple, a middle sized pizza with pepperoni, onions, some chicken and of course doubled cheese.

„So, do you have anything else planned for the weekend or are we going with the mood?“ Yeosang asked San while they waited for their food.

„Well we can do whatever we like, but we have to at least watch one movie! There is this new movie that finally came to Disney+ since i missed the timing for the cinema when it came out..“ San says, seeing what Yeosangs brain is thinking.

„You mean… this.. AH, you mean the Deadpool and Wolverine movie, right? Sure we can watch it!“ Yeosang says a little nervous because he don’t know if he get the movie right.

But San quickly tells him that he means exactly this movie and Yeosang eases immediately.

They exchanged a few more sentences about school until they got interrupted by the doorbell - food is there, and both of them jumped up to open the door, pay the delivery man and take the food.

„If you want we can already watch the movie“ Yeosang said after closing the door for San, who had his hands full with their food and a bottle of coke, which they ordered as well and wanted to share.

„Sure thing!“ San said while placing their food on the sofa table, before going to the kitchen to get a fork for Yeosang and two glasses for the coke.

„But we dont have to, if you dont want to right now“ he said after coming back from the kitchen, but Yeosang already made it comfy enough for both of them and started to type the movies name in the Disney+ searchbar.

San sits down next to him and places the fork next to Yeosangs food and poured some coke in their glasses. The next two hours were filled with laughing and even a little crying at the end (well, only San cried because Yeosang didn’t really understood anything since he normally does not watch movies like this).

So Yeosang gave San a tissue and they talked a bit about the food (which was surprisingly good and still very affordable for students like them), then switched ro talk about the movie and San also explained to Yeosang, why he cried a bit at the end.

A few minutes and a bit of chatting later, San stood up to put away the trash from the table.

„Wait, let me help you!“ Yeosang offered, but San only waved it away while smiling at Yeosang, who sits back down on the sofa.

„Wanna go to my room? Maybe we can play some games or whatever you want to do!“
San asked when he comes back.

„Can i play a round of league or two? I still dont have internet since i moved to my own Apartment“ Yeosang asked while following San to his room.

„Yeah if course! You know you can play whateven you want, i just gonna watch“ San answered.

When they closed the door of Sans room, he started his computer, typed in his passcode and started to patch league. He hadn’t played this week after the patch so of course he has to update the game since a new patch came out on Wednesday.

He turned around to Yeosang. „Sorry, i forgot to patch it, hadn’t had the time yet“ he said, but Yeosang only smiles and says „dont worry, it’s just a small bug fixes, should be done any second, see?“ and as if the game was a paid actor, right when Yeosang finished his sentence, the patch was done.

So they switched their seats, Yeosang now on Sans gaming chair, logging into his own account, San now next to Yeosang on a spare chair he has in here to normally throw on all his clothes, that are to clean for the laundry, but already worn, so not good enough anymore for his wardrobe.
The clothes now on top of his bed.

San watches how Yeosang played a few rounds, first was a loss, but only because San has different keybindings but after adjusting them to Yeosang liking, he won the two rounds after, before switching to TFT.

„You wanna play with me on tablet?“
Yeosang asks San, pointing at Sans iPad laying next to the keyboard.

„Oh, yeah of course!“ He said, stretching out his arm to get his tablet from next to Yeosang before starting TFT.

They had a few nice rounds, chatting and giggling as well and San always pouting when Yeosang beats him up in a round, only for him to still end up in the top 4 and not loosing any points.

After a while they just lay down on Sans bed, which is not the biggest, but definitely enough for the both of them to have enough space.

San was a bit in his thoughts again and lets out a sigh without realising it.

„Hm? Is something wrong Sani?“ Yeosang asks, noticing that San might not even hear him.

„Sani?“ Yeosang asks again after not getting an answer after the first time.

„Oh! No no, it’s nothing, dont worry!“ he said, but Yeosang knew something was going on.

He knows San way to long to not notice. So he asks again.

„Sani you know you can talk with me about it, right? Even if i cant help you, i‘m still here to listen“ he said. So San lets out a sigh again.

„Yeah you‘re right, Sangie..“ he slowly started. When Yeosang sits up to face him, he sits up as well but didn’t dare to look as Yeosang before he continued.

„It‘s just… i dont know what to do anymore, Beomsoo probably still doesn’t know about my existence while i‘m sitting here and crying every evening because my heart hurts. But whenever Mingi or Yunho see me like this in school, all down, they try to push me to talk to him, but i just… i cant! I would have nothing from it since Beomsoo is fucking straight and…“

Yeosang sits there and listens, feeling his heart hurting as well, since its about Beomsoo again, oh he wishes to be Beomsoo so bad… but he still listens to what San has to say.

„..and the worst thing is, even my parents noticed that something is wrong, i just cant talk to them about such nonsense. Yeosang i wish there would be a way- wait.“ he stops.

He finally looked up into Yeosangs eyes.

„Maybe.. no, no i cant do this, thats so wrong“ he said. Yeosang i curious now.

„What is it Sani? Whats in your head?“

„No Sangie, i cant ask you that, its stupid, forget about it!“ and with that he lets himself fall down on his pillow again, still feeling Yeosangs eyes on him.

He really wanted to ask now. But his courage left him again so he just lays there.

„San, you.. you are crying…“ Yeosang calmly points out. Indeed, he hadn’t even noticed if Yeosang hadn’t told him. -Fuck what now- San thinks.

„Tell me whats wrong, what do you wanted to ask me Sani, i cant help you if you dont ask..“ Yeosang said, looking at him with his sad puppy eyes.

San closed his eyes before sitting up again, whiping away his tears.

„Sangie you have to promise me that you wont hate me and that you wont just run out this late at night and that you will still be my best friend and-“

„San what could be so bad that i would so all this?“ Yeosang interrupted him, slowly reaching out for Sans hands to hold them, to give him the feeling that he definitely wont leave at all.

„Please Sangie, just promise me…“ San said.

Yeosang giving him a silent nod and whispered „promised!“ before tightening the grip on Sans hands.

„C..could you do me a favor…? You know… like… be Beomsoo for me… shifting into him i mean…?“ San finally asks.

Silence.

Yeosang just stares into Sans eyes.

Did he hear that right? Did San really asked him that? Now he understands why San wanted him to promise to not leave him.
But this cant be real, right?

„I-i mean only if we‘re just the two of us of course!“ San quickly adds as the silence started to make him really nervous.

„And if… if you want we can be boyfriends in public, just Yeosang and San you know, or just normal friends just like we normally are, but it would really help my heart if i could be able to at least think i could be with Beomsoo, feel what it would feel like, just being able to-“

„stop, hold up a minute.“ Yeosang finally says.

„Are you asking me to shapeshift into Beomsoo for your own entertainment? Have you thought about how i as ME would feel?“ he adds.

„Y.. you can still say no! But please dont hate me Sangie, i‘m so sorry for asking such a stupid question… i didn’t mean to hurt you…“ a big sigh escapes Yeosang as he listens to San.

„i‘ll do it“ he said.

„Please just forget about what i aske- wait what? You..?“ San started before he realized what Yeosang said.

„Yes, i gonna do it. But only if you mean it, i mean this whole boyfriend thing. In public its you and me and in private its you and me as Beomsoo. And maybe some days just you and me in private as friends, doing things like today, watching movies, ordering food, playing games etc.“ Yeosang said, not really knowing how much it might hurt him in the end since the affection San is about to give him from now on is definitely not for him but for Beomsoo.

But for now he thinks this is a pretty good deal.

And so he hugs San after he nodded quietly to Yeosangs offer.

„If anyone of us starts to feel unwell, we just stop everything and go back to being friends, okay?“ Yeosang asks while still holding San in his arms.

Again San just nods before they both lay down and eventually fall asleep in each others arms.

Chapter Text

A few days have passed.
The apartment was quiet, just the hum of the fridge and some music far in the backgroud. Yeosang stood in front of the full-length mirror, barefoot, shirtless, and bracing himself. His skin tingled faintly with the beginning of the shift, muscles twitching as his form began to stretch, bones realigning, sinew reforming.

He didn’t need to look at a photo. He’d watched Beomsoo more than enough to memorize every detail. He really wanted to see what San sees in him, but he just can’t figure it out.

Then he started his first shifting into Beomsoo. The change was slower than usual. As if his body knew this wasn’t just mimicry, it was indulgence.

His legs lengthened first, adding just an inch or two, but enough to force him to adjust his stance. His shoulders broadened with a subtle snap, muscle filling in until his chest looked heavier, firmer. His arms thickened, biceps becoming pronounced, defined. Football practice. Hours in the gym. Power layered into every line of Beomsoo’s body.

Yeosang’s skin grew darker by a tone, his jaw squared, brows sharpening. Even his hair coarsened slightly, just like Beomsoo’s, always a little messy, like he didn’t care but somehow still looked good.

He opened his eyes.

The man in the mirror was someone else.

Broad. Tall. Strong.

Protective.

He raised a hand to his chest, feeling the solid weight of it. No longer lean and graceful like himself, this body was made for shielding, for standing between someone and the world.

Would San feel safe in these arms?

Yeosang’s throat tightened. He didn’t smile.

This felt wrong, he knows for sure, but he would do everything for San to be happy.

Yeah, for San, not HIS San, even if he wished for it, but still, for San.

The café was half-empty, golden light pouring through the windows as Wooyoung stirred his iced americano with the kind of intensity that suggested he had something to say.

“You’ve been weird,” he said finally, skipping pleasantries.

Yeosang blinked over his hot tea. “I’m always weird.”

“No. This is different. You’ve been twitchy. Zoning out during class. Canceling plans. And that one hoodie you keep wearing like it’s a comfort blanket? It’s not even yours, is it?”

Yeosang looked away, lips tugging into a barely-there smile. “Maybe I like how it smells.”

Wooyoung squinted. “Gross. Is this a crush thing? Is that why you’re being so… squirrelly?”

Yeosang froze for half a second, then chuckled softly. “You know me. Crushes don’t usually make me act like I forgot how to human.”

Wooyoung leaned in. “So what is it, then?”

Yeosang twirled his cup slowly, watching the steam rise. “It’s… complicated.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about… expectations,” Yeosang said, keeping his voice light but vague. “Like, who we are when people aren’t looking versus when they are.”

Wooyoung leaned back, eyebrows raised. “Okay, philosopher.”

“I mean it.” Yeosang’s smile was thin. “Maybe I’m trying to figure out who I want to be. And how much of that is real.”

Wooyoung was quiet for a beat, gaze flicking over him.

Then, with a sigh, “You ever think about transferring?”

Yeosang blinked. “What?”

“I dunno. Sometimes it just feels like we’re stuck, right? Same school, same faces, same… everything. Maybe a new start would help.”

Yeosang hesitated. “I don’t want a new start.”

Wooyoung gave him a long look. “You just want something to change.”

Yeosang didn’t answer.

Then, abruptly, he changed the subject. “Did you hear that Jongho joined a gym across town? Apparently he nearly out-benched a senior.”

Wooyoung groaned. “Okay, what the hell are they feeding that kid?”

The shift in topic landed smoothly. But in Yeosang’s chest, something twisted tighter.

Yeosang’s apartment was lit in soft, golden light. The kind that made everything look warmer than it felt. He paced once more past the mirror, catching a glimpse of his reflection — not his. Beomsoo’s.

Sharp jaw, broad shoulders, thicker arms. He looked like someone who could block a tackle and walk away with a grin. Someone who could keep San safe with just a glance. Someone San liked.

Yeosang didn’t smile at the reflection. He wasn’t sure if Beomsoo would’ve, either.

When the knock came, he didn’t flinch, just inhaled, adjusted the way his shoulders sat, and opened the door.

San was there, casual and familiar, holding two bottles of soda and a paper bag of snacks. His smile was instantly disarming.

“You look good,” San said before he could stop himself, then grinned quickly, like trying to play it off. “I mean — you always do, just… you’re pulling off the whole ‘homebody athlete’ thing a little too well.”

Yeosang blinked, warmth climbing uninvited up his neck. He stepped aside. “You know i have snacks at home right? You just like the snacks you brought more i guess.”

“You say that like it’s not true.”

Inside, the atmosphere settled into something comfortable. San made himself at home on the couch, the snacks laid out between them. A movie played, something dumb and funny, something that made San laugh, and Yeosang listen.

They didn’t talk much through the first half. San had leaned closer than Yeosang expected, not touching, but close enough for warmth to carry across the cushions. At one point, Yeosang made the mistake of glancing at him. San was already looking.

His gaze wasn’t searching, exactly. Just… watching. Like he forgot, for a second, that this wasn’t real. That this wasn’t Beomsoo.

Yeosang froze under it. And San must’ve realized, because he blinked and looked away, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish laugh. “Sorry. That was… yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Yeosang said quickly, eyes back on the screen. “Just the movie.”

They didn’t speak for a beat. Then San bumped his shoulder against Yeosang’s — lightly, intentionally. “You’re weirdly good at this, you know?”

Yeosang tensed. “At what?”

“The whole Beomsoo thing. The tone, the energy. Even your laugh’s spot-on. It’s kind of impressive.”

Yeosang laughed once, hollow. “Guess I’m observant.”

And then it was too much. The moment, the closeness, the way San had looked at him like maybe, just maybe, he felt something.

Yeosang stood abruptly. “I need some water” he said.

He didn’t wait for San’s reply.

In the kitchen, he leaned hard against the sink, gripping the edge until his knuckles hurt. The silence in there felt different, heavier. Less like comfort, more like drowning.

Cool, San had said earlier.

Impressive.

He wanted to scream. None of this was cool. None of this felt like a trick. This was his skin, pulled over someone else’s name. This was survival, not fun.

And it hurt more than it should that San could forget, even briefly, who was beneath it.

He filled a glass with water he didn’t want, stared at the tap as if it might answer the questions spinning in his head.

Why did he agree to this?

Why did it feel like his heart was starting to depend on moments that weren’t even his to keep?

When he finally walked back, San looked up with that same soft grin, unaware of the storm Yeosang was trying to swallow.

“You okay?” he asked.

Yeosang nodded. Sat. Took a sip of water. “Yeah. Just got a little warm.”

San smiled again. “You’re always warm. Even in winter.”

Yeosang forced a smile.

He didn’t have it in him to say: You don’t know me well enough to say that.

The movie had finished. They weren’t watching anything anymore, just letting the TV cycle through its quiet, glowing screensaver.

San had slipped lower on the couch at some point, his legs curled halfway up, head lolling slightly to the side. His breathing was slow, steady.

Asleep.

Yeosang sat still.

He hadn’t moved since San drifted off, afraid to disturb the quiet. His own glass of water sat untouched on the table, half-full and warm now. Useless, like everything else in his hands tonight.

San looked so peaceful when he slept. Softer than he usually let himself be. The hard lines of sarcasm and energy gone, leaving behind something more boyish, vulnerable.

Yeosang stared too long.

And then longer.

He couldn’t help it.

In this dim light, with the air barely humming, it was easy to pretend this was something else. That San was here for him. That they were just two people in love, spending a night in.

That he didn’t have to give this body back tomorrow.

A wave of guilt followed the thought, dragging behind it the familiar ache that had started to settle into Yeosang’s chest these past few weeks. Not sharp, not anymore, just there, always. Quiet. Present. Waiting.

He leaned forward and slowly, carefully, pulled a soft blanket from the end of the couch. Gently laid it across San, brushing hair out of his face in a motion so tender it scared him.

San shifted slightly but didn’t wake.

Yeosang stayed kneeling there a second longer, watching the rise and fall of his chest. Then he stood, backed away. He couldn’t sit beside him again tonight, not like this. Not when his heart was already starting to lie to him.

He walked quietly to his room and closed the door behind him. Only once alone did he let the shape fall away, his bones clicking back into place, his skin rippling with the soft shudder of change.

Back to himself.

Just Yeosang.

He stood in the middle of his dark room, staring out into the shadows with an expression he didn’t show anyone else. Not even the mirror.

His hands curled into fists.

He knew this couldn’t go on forever, even though it just started.

But he didn’t know how to stop. Not when it makes San happy. Not when he felt love, even if this love is not for HIM, but for someone he „pretends“ to be. But it hurts to much.

The soft tick… tick… tick of the wall clock was the first thing San noticed as he blinked awake.

The TV was off now. The apartment had fallen into darkness, lit only by the pale blue glow of streetlights slipping through the curtains. A blanket was pulled over him, warm, soft. Tucked carefully around his sides.

Yeosang wasn’t in the room.

San rubbed his eyes, then pushed himself upright with a groggy sigh. His body felt heavy with sleep, head muzzy, like he’d been dreaming about something but couldn’t remember what.

The kitchen light was off. No sound of movement anywhere.

It felt too quiet for two people.

He got up, blanket still draped around his shoulders, and padded barefoot toward the hallway. The door to Yeosang’s bedroom was closed, but the faintest sliver of light shone beneath it, not bright, just a subtle gold hue, like the lamp on his nightstand was still on.

San knocked gently.

No answer.

He pushed the door open just enough to peek inside.

Yeosang was curled under his covers, facing the wall, still. His back rising and falling slow and steady, as if asleep. The room smelled faintly like laundry detergent and something familiar San couldn’t name, something that always reminded him of Yeosang, no matter the time of day.

San’s heart tugged.

Without really thinking, still fogged with half-sleep, he walked in. Quietly. The floor didn’t creak beneath his feet. He didn’t want to wake him, just didn’t want to be alone, either.

He climbed into the bed, gentle and slow, settling onto the empty side like it was something he’d done a hundred times before. Yeosang didn’t move, but San could feel the shape of him beside him, could sense the warmth under the blanket. Familiar. Calming.

San let out a soft sigh and turned to face Yeosang’s back.

“‘M glad it’s you,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. “Always feel safe with you.”

Yeosang’s eyes opened.

Slowly. Silently.

He hadn’t been asleep, had barely managed to close his eyes, too knotted up in the mess of himself. But now San was here. In his bed. Saying things that made something in Yeosang break a little and burn at the same time.

He didn’t dare move.

Didn’t dare breathe.

San’s hand brushed against his under the blanket, a soft, accidental thing. And Yeosang… stayed still. Let it happen.

He wanted to cry.

He wanted to stay frozen here forever.

But mostly he wanted to believe San meant it. That even if he didn’t understand it yet, something between them was real. Something more than a deal.

And maybe, just maybe… it could be.

San’s breathing evened out minutes later.

Yeosang hadn’t moved, not when San’s hand settled warm beside his, not when San had curled closer, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Not even when he whispered those words like they meant nothing… and everything.

”‘M glad it’s you. Always feel safe with you.”

Yeosang turned those words over in his head, again and again, like they might splinter if he held them wrong. As if dissecting them carefully would reveal the truth underneath, that it wasn’t about him, not really. Not Yeosang.

It was Beomsoo San wanted. The fantasy version of comfort and protection and maybe love.

And Yeosang… Yeosang was just the one wearing the face.

He swallowed, throat dry.

San shifted slightly in his sleep, cheek brushing the pillow with a sigh, his arm now a breath away from Yeosang’s waist. He looked peaceful. Open in a way he rarely was during the day, like the weight of wanting and hiding had finally let go.

Yeosang studied his profile in the low light. The soft lashes, the curve of his lips. His heart hurt just looking.

He wanted to reach out, to touch San’s hair, to memorize the shape of his jaw with his fingertips. To steal this moment and pretend it was his to keep.

But he didn’t.

Because it wasn’t.

Not really.

He blinked back the sting in his eyes and let his gaze drift to the ceiling. The silence pressed down on him now. Still. Heavy. The room was warm, but he couldn’t stop the cold crawling up from his chest.

This wasn’t how he imagined it would feel, having San in his bed.

It was lonelier than being alone.

A quiet breath escaped him, too soft to hear, and he closed his eyes.

Just a little longer, he told himself. Let me have this just a little longer.

He didn’t sleep.

But he didn’t move either, not when the clock hit 2:03 AM. Not when San shifted again with a sleepy murmur and brushed against his side. Not even when the ache in his chest throbbed harder than it had in days.

Yeosang just stayed there, wrapped in a version of closeness that wasn’t really his, and let the night carry them quietly to morning.

The light crept in slowly, casting pale gold lines across the floor. Yeosang had watched the sky shift through the window, every hour marked by the faint hum of the city waking up just outside his walls.

He hadn’t slept.

San had, though, soundly, deeply, curled up beside him like he belonged there. His breathing had stayed steady all night, one hand still half-tangled in the blanket between them, fingers sometimes twitching like he was dreaming.

Yeosang hadn’t moved.

He was afraid that if he did, it would all end. The illusion. The warmth. The closeness he’d craved and feared in equal measure.

But the sun was up now, and San stirred with it.

A groggy hum left his throat as he shifted, blinking against the light leaking into the room. He let out a muffled yawn, rubbing at one eye before his gaze finally fell on Yeosang, still awake, still lying beside him.

“…Did I fall asleep in here?” San mumbled, voice rough from sleep. His hair was a mess, sticking up in a thousand different directions, and his hoodie had ridden up slightly at the waist. “Shit—sorry.”

Yeosang shook his head, quiet. “It’s okay.”

San frowned faintly, like he was still putting the pieces together. “You didn’t sleep?”

Yeosang hesitated. “Not really.”

There was a beat. The silence between them felt different now, not heavy like last night, but softer. San looked at him, brows drawing together just a little.

“You okay?”

That question. So simple. So impossible.

Yeosang nodded, because it was easier than the truth. “Just… thinking.”

San made a quiet sound in his throat, something between a sigh and a murmur. Then, without warning, he shifted closer, the blanket rustled as he leaned in and bumped his forehead gently against Yeosang’s.

A touch so small. So brief. But it felt like everything.

Yeosang froze.

“I’m really glad it’s you,” San whispered again. “I know I said it last night, but… I meant it.”

Yeosang could barely breathe.

And San, still half-tucked into sleep, still unaware of the impact of his words, just lingered there for a moment longer before pulling away with another yawn.

“God, I’m starving,” he muttered, flopping onto his back. “You got anything to eat that isn’t just tea and sadness?”

That made Yeosang huff a laugh, short, surprised, grateful. “Maybe.”

“I’ll cook,” San offered, stretching like a cat. “You look like a ghost. Go sit down, I got it.”

He was already out of bed before Yeosang could protest, padding barefoot toward the kitchen with his hair in full chaos mode.

Yeosang stayed where he was, blanket still wrapped around his waist, the warmth of San’s forehead still pressed against his skin like it had been burned there.

He sat up slowly, fingers running through his hair, and stared at the sunlight streaking across the floor.

He should stop this.

He knew he should.

But he didn’t move.

San stirred the pancake batter with one hand and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the other. He didn’t cook often, but he remembered the basics, and something about making breakfast in someone else’s kitchen made him want to get it right.

Yeosang had been quiet when San woke up on the couch. Gone before he even realized it. San had shuffled to the bathroom, tried not to overthink the night before, and decided to cook because… what else do you do after sleeping in a friend’s bed you were never supposed to be in?

When he heard footsteps behind him, San turned just enough to glance at the doorway. Yeosang stood there, hair messy, arms folded across his chest like a shield. He looked like he’d barely slept.

“You can cook?” Yeosang asked.

San smiled, grateful for the normalcy in his voice. “Of course. My mom refused to let me leave home without learning how to feed myself like a real adult. You’re about to witness greatness.”

Yeosang leaned against the doorframe. “If you burn my kitchen down, I’m making you shift into a firefighter to fix it.”

San snorted, flipping the pancake. “Noted.”

He tried not to think too hard about how at-home this felt. Like this was just a thing they did. Like he wasn’t completely in the dark about what Yeosang was really feeling, about the whole arrangement. Like he hadn’t caught himself last night wanting to reach out, just to hold Yeosang’s wrist for a second. Steady him. Keep him.

Instead, he focused on the pancakes. And the coffee. And pretending this morning wasn’t confusing.

When they sat down to eat, San couldn’t help the grin pulling at his lips. “Not bad, right?”

Yeosang gave a little shrug and sat down with a cautious kind of grace. “You’re surprisingly domestic.”

“I contain multitudes.”

They ate in relative quiet for a few minutes. San didn’t want to push, but the silence was starting to weigh on him. Not awkward, just heavy. Like Yeosang was holding his breath and didn’t know how to let go of it.

“Hey,” San said, trying to keep it light, “last night… I didn’t say anything weird in my sleep, did I?”

Yeosang looked up from his plate. “No. Why?”

San scratched the back of his neck, sheepish. “Sometimes I talk in my sleep. Yunho says I confess to celebrities and talk about spaghetti.”

Yeosang let out a soft sound, almost a laugh. “No spaghetti talk. Just snoring.”

San feigned offense. “Rude.”

They fell quiet again, and San watched Yeosang pushing a piece of pancake around his plate. Something about it made his stomach twist.

“Hey,” he said again, softer this time, “you always talk like that?”

Yeosang blinked at him. “Like what?”

“Like this is normal. Like this is easy.”

San tilted his head, studying him. “Is it not?”

Yeosang didn’t respond. His silence was louder than anything he could’ve said.

San set his fork down. “I know this is a weird situation, Yeosang. I do. But I’m not lying when I say I feel comfortable with you. That’s not part of the… arrangement.”

Still nothing.

San leaned forward slightly, voice gentle. “You don’t have to act like it’s nothing. Or pretend you’re okay with all of it. If you’re not… just tell me.”

He meant it. Even if it hurt. Even if Yeosang said he didn’t want this anymore.

Yeosang finally looked up, just for a second, then dropped his gaze again. “We should clean up.”

San swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

They moved together easily, San rinsing dishes while Yeosang wiped the counters, the sound of running water the only real noise. It was domestic in a way that felt deeper than it should’ve, too familiar for two people who’d only started whatever this was.

When the last dish clinked onto the rack, San dried his hands and turned.

“You still okay if we do this again sometime?” he asked. “Hang out. Just… talk. You don’t have to shift.”

Yeosang’s eyes met his, guarded but softer now. Something unreadable flickered behind them.

“…Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’d like that.”

San smiled, small and real.

He didn’t say me too, but he felt it all the way to his ribs.