Chapter Text
Yeosang liked his routines. He liked waking up to the calm of early morning before the city came to life, slipping on his cosy house slippers, and opening the curtains just enough to let soft light pour in. He liked measuring out the exact amount of cocoa powder for his iced chocolate, never too sweet, never too bitter, and pouring it into his favourite glass, the one with the small chip at the rim he refused to dispose of. He liked wiping down the counters after breakfast, fluffing the cushions before leaving, and coming home to the quiet of a clean apartment, everything in place. Having things in order brought him comfort. The silence made him feel in control.
So, when his landlord texted him in the middle of the semester to let him know that his current roommate was moving out and someone new would be moving into the vacant room, Yeosang could only hope they'd be the type to mind their business. Someone quiet. Neat. Preferably invisible.
It wasn't that Yeosang disliked people; he simply preferred them at a comfortable distance, close enough to avoid the need for sharing his belongings or engaging in small talk, especially about stuff he didn't care about. His previous roommate had been perfect for that role. A reserved business major who spent more time at his girlfriend's place than at the apartment. Now, with midterms approaching and a new stranger set to arrive, Yeosang could feel the edges of his carefully constructed peace beginning to crumble.
He spent the afternoon tidying up the living room, not because it was messy, but because it gave him something to do. Organising the pile of books on the shelf and collecting a family of dust bunnies felt more manageable than thinking about what kind of person would be walking through that door.
Then, at exactly 6:17 pm, the door swung open just a little too fast, followed by the distinct sound of a suitcase being dragged across the floor. His gaze shot towards the door while clutching a book in his right hand, already bracing himself. There he was.
With bleached hair peeking through from beneath a black cap, a backpack thrown over both shoulders, and the most dazzling smile Yeosang had ever seen, this stranger seemed like the kind of person who would talk before thinking, exactly the type Yeosang could avoid so he could save his peace… or his heart.
"Hey! You must be Yeosang," the stranger beamed, dropping his suitcase by the door without hesitation. It stayed there, forgotten for a while, until he finally dragged it in later. "I'm Wooyoung. New roommate, unfortunately." He extended his right hand, and Yeosang could already feel the beginning of a headache.
Yeosang hesitated for a brief moment before extending his hand out too, giving Wooyoung's hand a quick, awkward shake. His grip was warm, his smile annoyingly cheerful.
"Uh... yeah. I'm Yeosang," he replied softly.
Before he had a chance to come up with something else to say, maybe a welcome or let me show you your room, Wooyoung was already moving to the living room like he owned the place.
"Wow, this apartment's nicer than I thought," Wooyoung said, eyes scanning the small yet cosy living room and kitchen. "Oh, wait, is that your room?" He pointed at the door to Yeosang's room, without waiting for an answer. "Don't worry, I won't touch your stuff."
Yeosang parted his lips, closed them, then sighed. "That's good."
Wooyoung grinned like they were already close friends, scanning Yeosang's beautiful facial features. "Nice, nice. Which room's mine?" Wooyoung asked, grin shining brightly, looking at the two other doors besides Yeosang's room. "I don't mind either. Just point me in the right direction before I accidentally move into your room," he teased.
Yeosang didn't respond right away. He feigned interest in his phone, even though he could feel his ears heating up. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the company of others; he just wasn't good at this. New faces, casual jokes, and people like Wooyoung who burst into a room as if they had belonged there all along. The calm he usually maintained was starting to feel like it was slipping through his fingers.
Without looking up fully, Yeosang lifted a hand and pointed toward the door at the end of the small hallway, nearly opposite his room. "That one's yours," he mumbled.
Wooyoung smiled widely. "Great. Thanks, roomie!" He reached into his right pocket to pull something out. "Oh, I almost forgot. I brought these," revealing a handful of small chocolate bars. "Didn't know what you liked, so I chose something safe. I hope you're not allergic to chocolate. Or people."
Wooyoung gently placed the chocolate bars into Yeosang's hand, their fingers brushing briefly. Yeosang blinked, caught off guard, and wrapped his fingers around them slowly. "Oh, thanks. I appreciate it."
Wooyoung set his luggage beside the couch and put his backpack on it before plopping down onto the couch without invitation, gazing at Yeosang. "So, what's your major? Wait, let me guess." He squinted dramatically.
"Engineering?"
Yeosang shook his head.
"Computer science?"
Another shake.
"Art history?"
Yeosang looked at him blankly. "Philosophy."
"Damn, I was close," Wooyoung chuckled, eyes glinting. "I had a feeling. Quiet, enigmatic, and probably good with words. I bet you're the kind of person who says something and leaves people thinking about it for days."
Yeosang averted his gaze, rubbing his nape, fighting the urge to hide behind his hands. "I... don't talk much."
"Well! Fortunately for you, I talk enough for both of us."
And for some reason, Yeosang knew, with a sinking feeling and an odd flutter in his chest, that he might be in trouble. Trouble with what, exactly? Only God knew.
Wooyoung clapped at his own comment, as if he had just made the greatest deal of his life. "This is gonna turn out wonderfully," he declared, stretching his arms over the back of the couch. "I've always wanted a mysterious roommate. Makes me feel like I'm in one of those indie films where we bond over weird conversations and existential dilemmas at 2 am."
Yeosang let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "I'm not that interesting."
"I'll be the judge of that," Wooyoung replied with a playful wink.
Before Yeosang could come up with a reply, not that he had any, Wooyoung's phone chimed, and the male glanced at it briefly before letting out a sigh.
"Ugh, the delivery guy says he's downstairs. I grabbed dinner too. Hope you don't mind; I kinda ordered extra by accident. Let's just say I'm so excited to meet my new roomie that it happened." Wooyoung got up and stretched, then gave Yeosang a smile. "You eat, right?"
Yeosang looked at him, slightly caught off guard. "Uh, yeah. Of course."
"Awesome. Be right back." Wooyoung gives a nod and nearly bounds toward the door.
The moment it clicked shut behind him, Yeosang let out a long, deep breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding. The apartment seemed oddly silent in his absence—not peaceful, but as if the room itself was waiting for something to happen. He looked down at the handful of chocolate bars he was holding, the corners of his mouth tugging up before he could stop it.
Maybe this wouldn't be so terrible.
Maybe.
The door opened a few minutes later, Wooyoung managing two paper bags in one hand and a drink tray in the other.
"I come bearing gifts," he declared, closing the door shut behind him with his right foot.
Yeosang looked up from his phone, slipping it into his pocket as Wooyoung made his way to the small dining table and began to unpack the food as if it was some kind of grand feast.
"I wasn't sure what to get, so I just ordered a bit of everything," Wooyoung said nonchalantly, arranging the containers. "Fried chicken, tteokbokki, some dumplings, and these seaweed rice balls someone reviewed as 'life-changing'. Their words, not mine."
Yeosang blinked at the array of food, his stomach giving a quiet, traitorous rumble. He hadn't noticed how much time had passed since his last meal.
"Thank you..." Yeosang murmured, his tone shy but genuine.
Wooyoung smiled widely, giving a casual wave. "You can think of it as a roommate bonding ritual. Eat with me so I don't look like a sad guy stuffing my face alone on my first night."
A small smile appeared on Yeosang's face. After a moment of pause, he got up and made his way to the table to sit across from Wooyoung.
They ate in an unexpectedly comfortable silence at first. Yeosang nibbled on his food carefully, while Wooyoung devoured his meal with the enthusiasm of someone who hadn't enjoyed a decent meal in days.
"This place isn't bad," Wooyoung said while chewing on a dumpling. "It's certainly better than the cafeteria food. By the way, do you cook?"
Yeosang shook his head. "Not really."
Wooyoung clicked his tongue. "Damn. I was wishing you were one of those surprisingly talented home cooks. It looks like we'll survive off takeout and instant ramen."
Yeosang let out a soft laugh. "Sounds about right."
The conversation flowed effortlessly—simple, harmless, and relaxed. Wooyoung did most of the talking, sharing amusing stories about bad part-time jobs and weird professors, while Yeosang, despite himself, found it quietly entertaining. Every now and then, Yeosang would make a comment or ask a small question, and every time, Wooyoung would light up like Yeosang had said the most fascinating thing in the world.
By the time they were done, Yeosang's nerves had calmed down to the point where the apartment didn't feel like it was being intruded upon anymore.
"Thanks for the food," Yeosang said, looking at the empty containers.
Wooyoung stretched his arms over his head, letting out a contented sigh. "No problem, roomie. Gotta take care of my people, right?"
Yeosang couldn't quite recall when he had become Wooyoung's people, but in some way, it didn't feel so bad.
Later that night, the apartment was still quiet in a way Yeosang hadn't experienced throughout the day.
Wooyoung had vanished into his room after dinner, claiming he needed to "unpack the disaster zone" in his luggage. Yeosang somewhat anticipated hearing music blasting through the walls or the noise of furniture being moved around, but nothing of the sort happened. The silence felt heavier than usual, not unwelcome, but strange.
Yeosang sat on the side of his bed, the soft glow of his desk lamp creating shadows on the wall. The small pile of chocolate bars, gifted by Wooyoung earlier, sat on his desk, untouched. He extended his hand, picking one up and examining it closely; the crinkling foil is the only sound filling the room.
He was unfamiliar with this.
Not the noise, not the chaos. Rather, it was how someone like Wooyoung could so effortlessly insert himself into a space Yeosang had carefully guarded. It was disarming and unsettling. And, if he were to be truthful, it's kind of nice.
Yeosang let out a soft sigh, placing the chocolate back onto the desk. He was certainly in trouble.
A soft knock on his door broke him out of his thoughts.
"Hey," Wooyoung called, his tone a little softer this time, muffled through the door. "Sorry, I know it's late. Am I bothering you?"
Yeosang cleared his throat. "No, you're not."
The door creaked open a bit, with Wooyoung peeking in, hair slightly dishevelled and hoodie too big for his small frame. "Uhm... I just wanted to say thanks. For, you know, not throwing me out or telling me to shut up while I yapped earlier."
Yeosang blinked, surprised for what felt like the tenth time that day. "I wasn't planning to."
Wooyoung smiled, that same cheerful smile dimmed by sleepiness. "Great. Just wanted to check." He raised his hand in a lazy wave. "Goodnight, roomie."
And with that, the door closed again with a click.
Yeosang sat there for a brief moment, staring at the spot where Wooyoung had just been. Then, somewhat unexplainably, he picked up one of the chocolate bars, unwrapped it, and took a small bite.
Yeah.
He's absolutely in trouble.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
The following morning, Yeosang woke to the sound of pots clattering in the kitchen.
He let out a groan, rolling over to glance at the time. 7:42 am. Still too early for whatever chaos Wooyoung was likely creating.
Pulling himself out of bed, he padded into the kitchen to see Wooyoung crouching in front of an open cabinet, one sock on and his hair tousled.
"What are you doing…?" Yeosang murmured, rubbing his eyes. Wooyoung grinned as he glanced up. "I couldn't find the cereal." Yeosang blinked, then gestured towards the top shelf.
"Alright, got it." Wooyoung stood, grabbing the box after opening the shelf and shaking it victoriously. "You want some?"
Yeosang shook his head while letting out a soft sigh, reaching for a bottle of water from the fridge instead. "I have class in half an hour."
"Oh, same. Dance Improvisation. You?"
Yeosang hesitated. "Ethics and Moral Philosophy."
Wooyoung sighed dramatically. "That sounds scary. You probably engage in discussions about the essence of morality at 9 am."
Yeosang's lips curled slightly. "Something like that."
They left together not long after, their footsteps settling into an easy flow as they walked side by side, talking with each other for a bit and sharing smiles before parting ways near the campus library.
"Hey, wait," Yeosang called just as Wooyoung was starting to walk toward his building. "Are you doing anything for lunch?"
Wooyoung stared at him, taken aback by the question. "Uh, nope. Why?"
"Come meet my friends later. Yunho and Jongho."
Wooyoung smiled widely. "Sure. That sounds great, roomie."
At noon, Yeosang spotted Yunho and Jongho already seated on their usual bench under the big ginkgo tree near the arts building. Yunho was animatedly telling some story while Jongho sat next to him, only half-listening, wearing an affectionate expression.
"Hey," Yeosang said.
Jongho looked up and greeted with a wave. "Yo."
Yunho's expression lit up. "Yeosangie! Oh, hey, is this the new roommate?"
They quickly fell into easy conversation. Wooyoung blending in as if he had always been a part of the group, Yunho's light-hearted jokes matching his energy, while Jongho quietly observed. Yeosang found himself relaxing, watching them, that familiar flutter in his chest making a surprising comeback.
Yeah. Trouble.
In some way... he didn't mind.
At one point, Wooyoung and Yunho had drifted into their own fun conversation about a horror movie marathon happening last weekend, while Yeosang and Jongho were sitting a little apart from them now.
Jongho nudged Yeosang's shoulder lightly. "So."
Yeosang turned to look at the younger. "What?"
Jongho gave him a teasing look, wiggling his left eyebrow. "You like him."
Yeosang almost choked on his drink. "I don't—"
"Hyung," Jongho cut in, clearly unimpressed. "You've been looking at him like he hung the stars since he sat down. It's a bit embarrassing."
Yeosang groaned, rubbing his face with his hand. "It's not like that."
"Okay," Jongho replied with a smirk. "Look, I'm just pointing out, it's okay if you do. Yuyu hyung and I called it after, like, five minutes."
Yeosang sighed softly, his eyes drifting to Wooyoung, who was currently laughing so hard he almost fell off the bench.
"I'm in huge trouble, aren't I?" Yeosang whispered.
Jongho's smile softened. "Yeah. Big time."
Yeosang let out a soft sigh, running his fingers through his hair. "I just met him yesterday." Jongho laughed lightly. "Yeah, and? You think feelings stick to a set schedule?"
Yeosang scowled at him, but the severity of his expression was softened by the truth in those words.
"I'm serious, hyung," Jongho said, his voice now softer, more tender in that way only Jongho could manage. "You don't have to figure it all out right now. Just allow yourself to feel this. I think he's good for you."
Yeosang glanced down at his hands, the tips of his fingers lightly brushing against the wrapper of one of the chocolate bars Wooyoung had shoved into his jacket pocket that morning. He hadn't even noticed it was still there.
"I have no idea what this is," Yeosang confessed, so softly Jongho nearly didn't catch it.
"You don't need to," Jongho replied softly, nudging his shoulder again gently. "Just don't run away from it, yeah?"
Yeosang let out a soft, almost hesitant smile. "Since when did our Jjongie get so wise?"
Jongho grinned. "It's the side effect of dating Yuyu hyung. That guy makes you weirdly sentimental."
Yeosang giggled, and for a brief moment, the weight in his heart seemed to lift slightly.
Across the bench, Wooyoung looked over, meeting Yeosang's gaze with a wide grin, completely unaware of the quiet conversation that had just happened about him.
And Yeosang thought—yeah, perhaps Jongho was right.
He was probably already in deeper than he realised.
That night, the apartment seemed more silent than usual.
The faint buzz of the city drifted through the slightly ajar balcony door, and somewhere down the street, someone was strumming a guitar out of tune. Yeosang sat curled up on one side of the couch, a book open in his lap, though he had gone over the same line three times without it registering in his mind.
Wooyoung strolled in a moment later, fresh out of the shower with wet hair sticking to his forehead, wearing one of those oversized shirts that looked at least two sizes too big on him.
"Hi," Wooyoung said softly, like he didn't want to disturb the calm.
Yeosang looked up. "Hey."
Wooyoung paused in the hallway for a second before moving across the room and plopping down next to Yeosang, close enough that their knees brushed.
For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Wooyoung exhaled a small sigh, leaning his head back against the couch. "Thanks for today."
Yeosang blinked his eyes in surprise. "For what?"
"For... you know. Introducing me to your friends. They're really cool."
Yeosang's lips curved into a small smile. "They like you."
Wooyoung turned his head to look at him, a wide grin playing on his lips. "You sure about that? Pretty sure Jongho was judging me the entire time."
Yeosang shrugged, yet his expression softened. "That's just how he is, and he tends to get shy around new people."
Another moment of quiet settled between them. The city outside, the consistent hum of traffic, the subtle creak of the old apartment walls. It felt far from uncomfortable.
Yeosang felt that familiar flutter in his chest again, a warmth spreading in his stomach, and the strange comfort in Wooyoung's presence.
Without taking the time to consider, he spoke. "I'm... happy you're here."
Wooyoung stared, caught off guard. "Yeah?"
Yeosang gave a nod, eyes on the book resting in his lap. "Yeah."
A smile gradually spread across Wooyoung's face. "Me too, roomie."
Neither of them moved away. If anything, Wooyoung leaned in just a little closer, their shoulders nearly touching now, and Yeosang didn't pull back.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice whispered that this was a dangerous territory, but for once, Yeosang ignored it.
And for now, that was enough.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
It had been three months since Wooyoung moved in.
By now, Yeosang had grown used to the way the apartment was rarely quiet for long. Wooyoung's voice occupied the space in ways Yeosang hadn't known he was missing—humming to songs in the kitchen, sharing stories about a weird customer from his part-time job, or loudly cursing at a video game in the living room.
Somehow, it wasn't bothersome. It was comforting.
It was nearing midnight when Yeosang found himself sitting on the balcony floor, his knees hugged to his chest, the cool night breeze brushing against his skin. He liked this place a lot. The city lights blurred in the distance, and the distant sound of traffic was a kind of white noise he'd learnt to appreciate.
The glass door slid open behind him. "Knew I'd find you out here."
Yeosang turned to see Wooyoung stepping out, holding two cans of soda. He tossed one over, and Yeosang caught it clumsily.
"Couldn't sleep?" Wooyoung asked, settling down beside him.
Yeosang nodded his head slightly. "Just... thinking."
Wooyoung popped open his drink, leaning back against the wall. "That's a dangerous habit."
Yeosang smiles, small but sincere. "Guess so."
For a moment, they both sat in comfortable silence. The kind that didn't rush and didn't require any words. Just being together.
"You know," Wooyoung said after some time, his voice softer than usual, "I thought you'd dislike me when I first moved in."
Yeosang turned to look at him, surprised. "Why would you think that?"
Wooyoung shrugged, his eyes focused on the city below. "I don't know. It's just... you're often quiet, and I'm, well, not. I thought I might be annoying you."
Yeosang paused for a moment before replying. "You're not."
Wooyoung turned to face him then, a crooked grin spreading across his face. "Yeah?"
Yeosang met his gaze, experiencing that familiar flutter in his chest. "Yeah."
Wooyoung smiled, gentler this time, and lightly nudged Yeosang's shoulder with his own. "Good."
And neither of them said it out loud, but something shifted in the atmosphere surrounding them—easy, unavoidable, and maybe slightly dangerous.
For a while, neither of them said anything. The city hummed in the background, headlights gliding through the streets like small, aimless stars. It was the kind of silence Yeosang usually desired, but now it felt heavy all of a sudden. Like there was something stuck in his throat he couldn't swallow down.
"You alright?" Wooyoung asked after a pause, his voice softer than before, his head tilted slightly as he looked at Yeosang.
Yeosang hesitated. The simple answer was 'yeah, fine, always,' but something about the way Wooyoung was looking at him—so open, so incredibly gentle—made the words get stuck in his throat.
"I don't…" Yeosang started, then sighed and shook his head, a dry little laugh slipping past his lips. "I don't understand why you're like this."
Wooyoung looked surprised. "Like what?"
Yeosang's gaze dropped to his hands resting in his lap. "So kind. And patient. With me."
Wooyoung paused for a second, then let out a soft, breathy laugh. "You make it sound like it's a chore."
Yeosang didn't answer. He felt warmth creep into his cheeks, shame prickling under his skin. "It probably is. Most people don't stick around long enough to find out."
That confession hung heavy in the air between them. It wasn't the kind of thing Yeosang normally said. It wasn't the kind of thing he let escape into the world. Yet, under the glow of city lights and soft night breeze, it slipped out before he could stop it.
Wooyoung's expression softened in a way that caused a strange feeling to knot in Yeosang's heart. He reached out, his hand brushing Yeosang's wrist, a gentle touch, grounding.
"Then they're idiots," Wooyoung whispered. "And I'm not most people."
Yeosang's breath wavered.
"I like being around you," Wooyoung continued, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Even when you're quiet. Even when you're lost in thoughts. Even when you act like you don't care, but deep down, you care far too much."
Yeosang felt a tightness in his throat, eyes stinging in a way he wasn't prepared for.
"You don't have to fix anything for me," Yeosang said softly, his voice barely distinct over the sound of traffic.
"I'm not trying to fix you," Wooyoung replied, his eyes unwavering. "I just wanna be here. If you'll allow me."
For the first time in what seemed like ages, Yeosang let someone in, even if it was solely a small gap in his defences, even if it hurt.
He leaned in slightly, just enough for his shoulder to touch Wooyoung's again. This time he didn't pull away. This time he wasn't pretending.
Wooyoung beamed, turning his head to rest it lightly against Yeosang's, and they remained silent after that.
The night unfolded around them, relaxed, assured, and maybe still slightly dangerous. However, for once, Yeosang didn't mind.
Not at all.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Yeosang stirred to the smell of toasted bread and the faint sound of someone humming.
For a brief moment, disoriented and half-asleep, he thought it might've been a memory—a soft recollection of his childhood home. But then, a loud clang followed by a string of curses jolted him fully awake.
He let out a groan, pushing the covers aside, and sat up. His head felt heavy in the way it did after staying up too late feeling too much.
The memory of last night hit him all at once—Wooyoung's hand brushing his wrist and the soft words, I like being around you. The way Yeosang had leaned in, resting his head on Wooyoung's shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He ran a hand across his face.
God, what was that?
Pulling himself out of bed, Yeosang padded into the kitchen, where Wooyoung stood by the counter in an oversized t-shirt, his hair tousled and sticking up at different angles. There was a small pile of toast on a plate, a jar of strawberry jam, and a glass of orange juice.
"Oh, hey, morning," Wooyoung chirped brightly, like nothing unusual had occurred between them just hours before.
Yeosang swallowed as he could feel the tightness in his throat. "Morning."
"I made some extra." Wooyoung gestured at the toast. "I wasn't sure if you'd be up for breakfast, but you know."
Yeosang nodded, staggering closer. "Thanks."
He grabbed a slice with his right hand, taking a bite even though he wasn't certain he was actually hungry. They stood there in the quiet for a moment, the only noises being the distant city and the soft clinks of Wooyoung stirring his coffee.
Yeosang hated how aware he was of everything—the way Wooyoung's hair curled slightly when it was wet, the faint trace of sleep still remaining in his eyes, and how nice it felt just having him here, in his space.
"I, uh..." Yeosang started, then cleared his throat when his voice wavered. "About last night."
Wooyoung glanced up, eyebrows raised, an unreadable expression appearing on his face. "Yeah?"
Yeosang fiddled with the edge of the counter. "Thank you. For... for what you said. And for listening."
A moment of silence passed.
Wooyoung's gaze softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Anytime."
And there it was again, that effortless warmth. That unspoken connection hanging in the air between them.
Yeosang dared to glance at him, feeling something delicate registered in his chest. "I don't usually let people in like that."
Wooyoung reached over, gently nudging Yeosang's hand lightly with his own. "I understand."
The touch was fleeting, but Yeosang felt it like an electric jolt.
And maybe it was stupid, maybe it was impulsive, but in that moment, he wished he could express it. That he liked having Wooyoung here. That the apartment feels warmer now. That every time Wooyoung flashed a smile at him like that, something in his chest caved a little more.
But instead, he said nothing.
"Your class is soon, right?" Wooyoung asked, breaking the silence with a beautiful smile.
Yeosang nodded, grateful for the distraction. "Yeah."
"I'll walk with you," Wooyoung offered.
Yeosang replied with a small hum of agreement, already moving away from the counter. "I'm gonna shower."
"Same," Wooyoung grinned. "Dibs."
Yeosang raised an eyebrow. "It's literally my place."
"Our place now," Wooyoung teased, already heading toward the bathroom. "Better hurry up, Yeosangie."
Yeosang rolled his eyes and sighed but felt the smallest smile tug at the corners of his mouth as the door closed behind Wooyoung. He took another bite of toast, finishing it off as the sound of the water running filled the apartment.
When Wooyoung finally came out a few minutes later, hair damp and skin flushed from the heat, Yeosang made the mistake of glancing up. Wooyoung's hoodie was clinging a little too well to his frame, and as he was drying his hair with the towel, an absentminded grin appeared on his face.
Yeosang quickly averted his gaze, grabbing his towel and making his way to the bathroom in silence.
"Don't take too long!" Wooyoung exclaimed after him.
Yeosang murmured something inaudible in response, locking the door behind him. He took a deep breath, resting against the sink for a second before turning the water on.
This was fine. Totally fine.
The shower helped, at least for a short while. Warm water washed away the tension settling under his skin, though it didn't do much for the constant ache in his chest.
When he stepped out, towel draped around his neck, Yeosang could hear Wooyoung humming a pop song in the living room. He gets dressed quickly—dark jeans, a simple maroon t-shirt, and a jacket thrown on over it. He ran a hand through his damp hair and grabbed his phone and keys from the dresser.
Wooyoung was crouching by the door, lacing up his sneakers when Yeosang stepped out. His hair was still slightly tousled, sticking up in some places, but he looked good, unfairly good, and Yeosang hated how easily his stomach stirred at the sight.
"You good?" Wooyoung giggled, standing up and grabbing his bag.
"Yeah." Yeosang slipped his own bag onto his shoulder. "Let's go."
They headed out together, locking up behind them. The morning air was fresh, with a hint of warmth creeping in as the sun rose higher. The streets were starting to come alive with students on their way to campus, and the hum of the city was familiar and steady.
They walked side by side down the street, easy and comfortable now. Not quite touching shoulders, but close enough that Yeosang felt the heat of Wooyoung's warmth at his side.
"I'm starving," Wooyoung complained as they crossed an intersection. "We should grab something after class. I'm in the mood for tteokbokki."
Yeosang chuckled quietly to himself. "Didn't you just literally eat half a loaf of bread this morning?"
"Doesn't count," Wooyoung declared with a grin. "That was survival food before our war, aka class."
Yeosang shook his head, biting back a smile. "I'll text Yunho and Jongho later. See if they're free."
"Awesome. I like those guys."
They kept walking, the silence between them now comfortable and pleasant. From time to time, Yeosang caught himself stealing glances, watching the way the morning light danced in Wooyoung's hair, the way his grin appeared when he made silly jokes, and the way everything about him felt too bright and effortlessly easy. Yeosang let out a quiet sigh.
He was so screwed.
As they made their way down the street toward campus, Wooyoung found himself sneaking glances at Yeosang from the corner of his eye.
It was silly, really—how easily it happened. The way his attention kept wandering, how it hooked on the little things. The way Yeosang's slightly wet hair clung to the curve of his neck. The faint, almost discreet smile that tugged at his lips when Wooyoung joked about the survival toast. The way his eyes softened whenever they were brightened up by the sunlight.
Wooyoung sighed internally. Pathetic.
He should've known better. Should've known the moment he entered that apartment and saw those sharp, unreadable eyes and calm demeanour that this was a bad idea. That he was going to develop feelings for Yeosang in every inconvenient, impossible way.
And yet, here he was.
Walking beside him as if it was easy. As if his heart wasn't doing stupid things every time Yeosang spoke to him in that soft, careful voice. Like last night hadn't happened—the touch of Yeosang's head resting on his shoulder, the small, unguarded way he told him that he usually didn't let people in.
Wooyoung's chest tightened, and he buried his hands in his pockets, maintaining a casual grin and keeping his voice light.
Because the truth was he was already in too deep.
And if Yeosang ever looked at him—really looked at him—the way Wooyoung looked at him, it'd be the end.
Utterly, devastatingly over.
But for now, he could stroll alongside him like this. Make dumb jokes. Eat the survival toast. Act as if his heart wasn't a disaster every time Yeosang's shoulder brushed against his.
For now, it was enough.
As they made their way toward the academic buildings, the campus was already bustling—students bolting between one another, voices echoing in the late morning air.
Wooyoung was in the middle of teasing Yeosang about his apparently criminal choice of phone wallpaper ("Seriously, Yeosangie, a default moon wallpaper? Are you perhaps secretly fifty?") when a voice exclaimed out from nearby.
"Wooyoung!"
A boy, someone from Wooyoung's dance theory class, if Yeosang remembered correctly, jogged up to them, his bright smile warm in a way that made something in Yeosang's stomach twist.
"Hi, Dowoon," Wooyoung responded with a grin, all sunshine and effortlessly charming.
"I was hoping to run into you," he said, fixing his hair, eyes lingering on Wooyoung a little too long. "We're still doing that rehearsal review thing later, right?"
"Oh yeah, totally," Wooyoung laughed. "I'll text you the time after class."
Yeosang tried his best to maintain a neutral expression, but the words still doing twisted his heart so painfully. He reminded himself it was stupid, that it didn't mean anything. Wooyoung was friendly with everyone. That was just who he was.
Still, when Dowoon laughed at something Wooyoung said and touched his arm—that casual, familiar gesture—Yeosang felt an ache grow in his chest.
A second later, Wooyoung glanced over at Yeosang as if he could feel it, and his smile faltered, a slight crease appearing between his brows.
Yeosang managed a tight, casual shrug. "You're gonna be late, Youngie."
"Oh, shit, yeah." Wooyoung rubbed his nape, flashing an apologetic smile at Dowoon. "I gotta go. See you later."
Dowoon gave a lingering wave before disappearing into the building.
They walked side by side again, but the air between them had shifted, filled with unspoken tension.
Wooyoung nudged Yeosang's arm gently, a somewhat apologetic grin on his lips. "He's just a dance partner, you know."
"I didn't ask," Yeosang muttered, keeping his eyes fixed ahead.
Wooyoung let out a soft chuckle under his breath but chose to not push it. "Alright, alright. I'll see you at lunch?"
Yeosang just gave a small nod, pretending to check his phone as they walked away toward their respective buildings.
Yet the weight of it lingered—that sharp, unreasonable twist in his chest. And Yeosang hated how easily it affected him. Hated how much he'd wanted Wooyoung to dismiss that guy or say something spontaneous like, I already have plans.
By the time noon came around, and he took a seat next to Jongho at the campus café, the tension was still hanging there like a looming storm.
Wooyoung arrived a few minutes later, grinning like nothing was wrong, and Yeosang hated him a little for how effortlessly it came to him.
Jongho, always attentive, glanced between them with a frown. "Okay," he whispered to Yunho, just loud enough for Yeosang to hear. "What the hell's going on now?"
And Yeosang just stared at the menu, pretending not to care, even as his heart betrayed him with discomfort.
This was a problem.