Archive of Our Own ^beta

Let's fall in love for the night
And forget in the mornin'
Play me a song that you like
You can bet I'll know every line

Wooyoung gently passed his brush over Seonghwa’s eyelids, smearing pink glitter eyeshadow, a shade that matched the older’s hair color. Seonghwa pursed his lips, eyebrows pinched in an attempt to not twitch.

“How much longer will this take?” Seonghwa whispered through his teeth. His hand on Wooyoung’s thigh tightened. Wooyoung rolled his eyes, ignoring his friend.

The two of them were in their shared bathroom, Wooyoung on the counter and Seonghwa standing between his legs, patiently waiting for Wooyoung to be done with fixing his makeup. Seonghwa was clearly uncomfortable with the unfamiliar products on his face. Unlike Wooyoung, he was unused to wearing makeup, finding it too much work. It was clear from his expression that he regretted letting Wooyoung do as he pleased. Honestly, just the fact that he had agreed on going out on a Wednesday night—a school night—was a miracle in itself. Wooyoung had been certain his friend would insist on staying home, nose in his books, content just being by himself. But for once, Seonghwa had agreed to join them, much to Wooyoung’s delight.

A smile pulled at Wooyoung’s lips when he purposely passed a brush on Seonghwa’s nose and his friend’s nose twitched, nostrils flaring. Seonghwa’s expression twisted, lips pressing tightly and brows gathering as if he was holding back a sneeze. 

“Everyone’s waiting for us, Wooyoung,” Seonghwa hissed, annoyance bleeding into his voice.

Wooyoung stole a glance at the digital clock. “It’s not even ten yet, Seonghwa. Who the fuck goes to a club at ten?”

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow at his friend, cracking one eye open to stare at him. “I do.”

“Well you’re an old soul. You need to know, the real party doesn’t start until midnight.”

Seonghwa bristled, jaw dropping and eyes flying open. “Hey—! I’m only one year older!”

“Stay still, I still have to apply the mascara,” Wooyoung ignored him.

Seonghwa sighed, closing his eyes. “Not to mention,” he added, “by midnight, it wouldn’t be your birthday anymore.” 

Wooyoung didn’t reply, too focused on applying the finishing touches on his friend’s long lashes. Seonghwa let the silence hang, breathing in deeply in a way that told Wooyoung that he had reached the end of his wits.

“Don’t worry—” Wooyoung closed the tube of mascara then leaned back against the mirror behind him, tilting his head and admiring his friend’s face. He grinned. “We look smokin’ hot, I’d say that’s worth being late.”

Seonghwa’s eyes fluttered open, and he took a step back, away from where he’d caged Wooyoung on the counter. His gaze flitted between Wooyoung’s face and the reflection in the mirror. Wooyoung made sure to keep the makeup light and soft, a look that truly fit Seonghwa’s personality and style. It was so different from Wooyoung’s more depraved look, with his dark smoked out eyes and boldly highlighted cheeks. They could not be any more different, but that was what made them click so well.

Seonghwa let out a breath, a small content smile making its way to his lips. It was all Wooyoung needed to feel pride and warmth swell inside.

“Now, we’re ready to go,” Wooyoung smiled, hopping off the counter and pulling Seonghwa by the arm.

✦

Wooyoung was practically skipping, excitedly making his way towards the small building where they’ve all agreed to meet, Seonghwa getting dragged by the hand behind him. Despite Wooyoung confidently claiming that they’re not late, he still felt a little nervous about the time. On any other day, clubbing at ten would be considered early, by his standards at least, but today was different. They were going out specifically to celebrate his birthday, and he had promised his friends that he’d try to make it there early.

Thankfully the club itself wasn’t too far away, located right at the edge of their campus, a mere twenty minutes away by foot. 

Not before long, they were pushing their way through the crowd of club-goers, loud music thrumming around them. Seonghwa’s hand clutched tightly onto his, and he turned his head left and right, trying to find their group of friends. Their friends found them first, one tall head spotting them, face splitting into a bright smile as soon as they made eye contact. Yunho waved them over, and Seonghwa tugged Wooyoung forward towards their friends’ table. 

“The birthday boy is finally here!” exclaimed Yunho, eyes alight. He immediately pushed two glasses towards them filled with some pink sparkly drink that promised to be overly sweet just from the color alone. 

Wooyoung sniffed the glass curiously, flinching at the unexpectedly strong smell of alcohol. A deceptively cute drink turns out to be a death trap. Wooyoung laughed under his breath, of course Yunho would attempt to poison them as soon as they got there.

“Took you two long enough,” Yeosang smiled at the two of them from his seat. Jongho was next to him, an arm thrown around him, clutching a large glass of beer with his other hand.

“Someone insisted the party doesn’t start until midnight,” Seonghwa scoffed.

“Of course he did,” Jongho laughed. He stood, pulling Wooyoung in a side hug to wish him a happy birthday. Wooyoung leaned in, jokingly trying to kiss the younger smack on the mouth, but Jongho expertly dodged him, making a disgusted expression at him that made Wooyoung giggle louder. 

“I don’t even get a kiss on my own birthday?” Wooyoung pushed his lips out, exaggerating a pout. Jongho smacked Wooyoung on the chest. He opened his mouth, no doubt about to curse him out, when they were interrupted by another familiar face.

“Wooyoung! Hey, happy birthday!” Yeonjun said.

Wooyoung beamed at his friend and classmate from his dance class, and Yeonjun didn’t waste time before dragging Wooyoung away from his friends—despite their affronted screams that he was getting stolen from them—pushing him towards some other less familiar faces, Yeonjun’s friends, who were all excitedly waving him over and wishing him a happy birthday. 

Wooyoung greeted acquaintances and strangers alike, basking in the attention that everyone was showering him in. Shots were passed around, and by the time Wooyoung made it back to his friends’ side, he was already starting to feel the alcohol in his system, just on the other side of tipsy. Or perhaps a little more than tipsy, but Wooyoung was here specifically for this, for a fun night getting drunk and letting himself celebrate his birthday the proper way anyone in their twenties should.

Some remixes of generic popular 2010s songs were playing, and Wooyoung, accompanied by Yunho, his favorite dance buddy when clubbing, joined the crowd at the center of the room, screaming along to the lyrics that they knew by heart. They made their way through the bodies, not minding sticking too close to each other, both laughing as they swayed their hips together to the music.

As much as Wooyoung was enjoying himself—enjoying the thrum of alcohol in his body, the loud music in his ears, and the crowd around him, it confused him to no end how this particular club was this crowded on a Wednesday night, at barely eleven p.m. This time of the year, at the end of November, was usually when students were mostly swamped with projects and exams. Even Wooyoung had an essay on Art history to write due Friday, but he and his friends had made an exception just to celebrate. He did spread the word a bit that he would be celebrating today, but he was certain he recognized only about a third of the people present. So what were the other partiers here for?

“Why is it so crowded today?” Wooyoung leaned in, screaming in his friend’s ear to be heard over all the noise. 

Yunho frowned, and Wooyoung repeated, a little louder, leaning in even closer.

Yunho’s eyes widened in understanding and he shook his head, glancing at the crowded room. “There’s a….today!” He screamed back, the words barely reaching Wooyoung. The confusion must’ve shown on his face because Yunho pointed at an area further away in the room, nodding at it, and Wooyoung turned to see what his friend was trying to show him.

The club they were in had two areas, one dance floor, with many lights above, and one raised area that was usually kept closed off. Wooyoung never knew what the closed off area was for— Most days it was covered by black curtains, some days the curtains were ever so slightly pulled back to allow space for a live DJ. Today the curtains were pulled all the way back, revealing the drums, keyboard, mics and various guitars on a stage. 

“There’s going to be a live band playing today.” Yunho grabbed his shoulder to shout directly in his ear, and Wooyoung winced. “Many people came to see them.”

Wooyoung’s eyebrows raised at the thought of an actual band performing today of all days, on his birthday. What were the chances?

A wide smile pulled at his lips and he turned his head slightly to his friend. “When are they performing?” 

Yunho laughed, pulling him even closer. “I think they’ll start soon, they’ve already pulled back the curtains like an hour ago.”

Wooyoung nodded, eyes still trained on the stage. Right as he was about to ask Yunho if he wanted to take a break, maybe get some refreshments, the music suddenly died down, and the multicolored LEDs faded, replaced by one giant beam of white light, turned and aimed away from the dance floor. Wooyoung turned his head right on time to watch three men climb up the stage. He gasped, taking Yunho by the wrist and pulling him closer to where the men were picking out their instruments, curiosity pushing him closer to the makeshift stage. 

Wooyoung’s eyes followed the three band members making their way on the stage, each taking their own spot. He didn’t recognise any of them, but just their style and stage presence alone was enough for Wooyoung to know that this wasn’t their first time performing, nor will it be their last. The tallest member, a man with a bleached buzz and intense features took the drums. He sat down, immediately twirling the two sticks in his hands expertly and then grinned, something wild sparkling in his eyes. A different man, one with split dyed hair and about a million different piercings went straight for the mic, tapping it expertly then leaning down and checking the cord. The last member was the only one who came out holding his own instrument, a guitar held in his hands. His steps were slow, deliberate, and his gaze was on the crowd, heavy and imposing, as if searching for someone. He wasn’t the tallest member of the band, and certainly not the tallest in the room, but confidence oozed from every pore and with every step. Wooyoung couldn’t see the man’s face properly, he had stayed further back, away from the direct light, but the shadows that fell on his face only pronounced his sharp features. Wooyoung felt a shiver along his back. 

He turned to Yunho. “I want to get a closer look,” he murmured to Yunho, tugging at his wrist.

Yunho’s eyes were stuck on the stage as well, though Wooyoung couldn’t tell who he was looking at. Yunho nodded, eyes still on the members of the band. “I have to talk to one of them too, actually.” 

Wooyoung raised his eyebrows at his friend, tilting his head curiously, but Yunho pulled him along before he could prod into it. 

Yunho stepped ahead of Wooyoung, using his height to his advantage to push them further forward towards the front area. They stopped right at the edge of the stage, and his friend gestured at the band members, trying to get their attention, which only further puzzled Wooyoung. He didn’t know how his friend knew them, or why he needed to talk to them right before their performance.

The closest one, the heavily pierced man with the microphone in his hands, eyed them warily, stepping closer towards them with a furrow in his brow. The man with bleached hair also raised his head, looking for who their frontman was going to, only for his face to split into a wide grin at the sight of Yunho. He rushed forward, quickly grabbing the frontman and whispering in his ear. The shorter man’s shoulders sagged with relief, and he crouched down, sending them a friendly smile. 

“Hey, you’re Mingi’s friend,” the man whisper-yelled. 

Yunho waved him closer, and when the man lowered his head enough for them to be almost face to face, Yunho leaned in, whispering something in his ear that made the band member’s smile broaden. His eyes flicked up to meet Wooyoung, and he nodded once, either in greeting or in agreement to whatever Yunho was telling him. 

Wooyoung felt slightly embarrassed to just be standing there, watching his friend whisper with the leader of the band. It felt like he was intruding, even though he wasn’t hearing any of what they were discussing, so he turned his gaze away and to the stage instead. There were so many cords, thrown all around hazardously, in a way he knew his professors at school would cluck their tongues disapprovingly at. He followed one of the cords across the stage with his eyes until he reached the guitar it was connected to. Wooyoung was finally close enough to be able to see the guitarist clearly now, even when the man was still hidden in the shadows. The guitarist had shed his black leather jacket, throwing it carelessly behind him and staying in a simple black tank top, one that stuck to his skin perfectly, showing too much and leaving too little for the imagination. Wooyoung couldn’t lower his eyes, eyes slowly dragging from the broad exposed shoulders to the perfectly tapered waist. He watched the slight shifting of the guitarist’ muscles as he lightly strummed at the chords, fine tuning his instrument. One of his fingers started lightly tapping a rhythm on the flat of the guitar, the other hand stopping to rest on the strings.

Wooyoung’s eyes slid back up to the man’s face, curious as to what had distracted the guitarist from his fine-tuning. He froze then, entire thought process screeching to a halt, when he realized the other’s gaze was already on him, amused eyes meeting his. 

The man’s lips rose in a hesitant smile, dimples appearing at either side of his face. Heat rose to Wooyoung’s cheeks, feeling a flush take over him, livid at being caught ogling the man so blatantly. It made the guitarist huff a slight laugh, and if Wooyoung’s face wasn’t already flaming red, it was definitely completely and undeniably red now. Yunho slightly squeezed his hand, and Wooyoung turned away, just in time to find his friend saying goodbye to the singer, the latter sending them a thumbs up as he walked back to his members with a smirk pulling at his lips.

Wooyoung grabbed Yunho’s arm, tugging at him harshly and dragging him away from the stage. 

“What was that about? How do you even know them?” He’d never heard or seen this band, how did his friend know them? He pursed his lips, brows tugged down in a frown. He felt his skin prickle, and threw a quick glance back, only to find the guitarist’s stubborn gaze still on him. 

Wooyoung would like to order a quick Please let the earth open up and swallow me now, thank you.

Yunho laughed, pulling his arm back from where Wooyoung had a death grip on it. 

“I’m friends with the drummer, Mingi. We share music theory class.” He sent a secretive smile to his friend over his shoulder, “I just had to talk to Hongjoong about something for a bit, don’t worry about it.”

They went back to their table, finding Seonghwa by himself, nursing the same sparkly deadly drink from earlier. Wooyoung didn’t blame him for sticking with one drink for the whole night, especially one as strong as that one.

“Where are the lovebirds?” Yunho shot, eyes quickly swooping over the nearby area, looking for their missing friends.

Seonghwa pressed his lips into a thin line, rolling his eyes. He gestured with his glass to somewhere behind them, and the two turned to see their friends in each other’s arms at the edge of the dance floor. Despite the fact that the music had stopped a few minutes ago, they were still swaying gently, Jongho leaning in to whisper something in Yeosang’s ear, the other’s face scrunching up, failing to hold back a smile. He leaned forward, hiding his face in the crook of his boyfriend’s neck as he laughed.

“How long have they been like that?” Wooyoung could hear the endearment in his voice without having to see it.

Seonghwa stared at him with dead, soulless eyes, inexplicable boredom and annoyance lingering in the deceptively neutral expression, and that was enough of an answer for all of them. It sent Yunho doubling over with laughter, sitting down next to Seonghwa and patting his shoulder amicably—a poor excuse for comfort. Seonghwa slumped into his seat and pouted further, only finally stopping his moping when Wooyoung gently nudged his feet under the table, deciding to sit across from his two friends and facing the stage in doing so. 

“C’mon Hwa, no sulking on my birthday,” he nudged him again. Seonghwa’s expression softened, though he tried hard to stop the smile tugging at his lips. 

“Then stop leaving me to third-wheel those two, it makes me feel very single.”

“You are very single,” Yunho jabbed, and in turn, he got a well aimed elbow to the ribs. 

The sound of a mic’s static echoed around the room, suddenly interrupting the semblance of quiet that had overtaken the club for a few minutes, and soon screams rose from the crowd, excited noise growing louder all around them. Wooyoung’s head shot up, and he found that the band members were now poised and ready for their performance. 

The leader, Hong- Hongjun? Hongjoong? Whatever Yunho had called him, smiled at the crowd, and raised his hands, beckoning them to yell louder. He was definitely good at making people scream.

Seonghwa’s head swiveled back, eyes searching for the cause of the disturbance. He raised an eyebrow. “What’s happening?” 

“A band is playing tonight, they’re sort of famous in our university,” Yunho explained quickly, eyes trained on the stage as well, though Wooyoung could now pinpoint where his attention was.

“Did we have something like that?” Seonghwa’s eyes widened in awe. 

“We’re Performing Arts majors, this shouldn’t really come off as a surprise, Hwa,” Yunho scoffed light-heartedly. “We have multiple bands in fact, it’s just that Mingi’s band is the only one that’s managed to actually make a name for themselves, both online and locally. I heard a rumour that they might be getting signed with a proper label next year.”

Seonghwa turned back to him, his mouth in a little “o” shape. Wooyoung had a feeling his own face was just as bewildered.

He considered himself a social person, one who was pretty up-to-date with the ongoings of his classmates, yet he has somehow never heard of this band that’s supposedly locally famous amongst students. Granted, he’d been busy this year, preparing for the year-end big showcase, but surely, he couldn’t have missed the rise of an entire band?

The leader hyped up the crowd one more time, yelling an “are you ready to have some fun?” and aiming his mic back to the crowd as they cheered affirmatively, before he raised a hand, commanding silence in the small room. Even the ones sitting on the tables quieted and turned their attention to him, curiosity overtaking them. 

“Welcome, everyone, to Horizon’s first performance here at Golden Hour!” The man talked into the mic, already sounding breathless, “Today’s a special night, so let’s all enjoy ourselves and unwind, yeah?” 

He waited for the crowd to finish cheering, tongue poking out from between his teeth as he grinned. It gave him a mischievous edge, a dare-devilish charm. 

“My name is Hongjoong, I’m this band’s captain,” the man announced proudly. The lights shifted to one of the members behind him. “Next is San, our guitarist.” 

Wooyoung perked up at the mention of the guitarist. San, he repeated in his head, wanting to remember that name. He leaned forward in his seat, foregoing his drink to focus on the man across the room. San’s hands shifted, strumming a short riff. His lips tilted upwards at the way the crowd was even louder now, nodding at them with a satisfied smile. 

“And on the drums, Mingi,” Hongjoong exclaimed. The crowd roared when the lights settled on the third member, highlighting him as he played a small number of his own.

“They seem good,” whispered Seonghwa.

“They are good,” Yunho replied confidently. His eyes were still on the band as they announced the first song they’ll be playing. 

The band started immediately with an original rock song, and Wooyoung had to admit, they are really good. The song was clearly honed to perfection before they ever even considered playing it. Despite the style of the music being different to what this club usually played, the band was well received, more and more bodies crowding the dance floor and jumping along to the song. 

Wooyoung bopped his head, fingers tapping on the wood of the table to the song. He considered getting up and joining the dance floor, not one to stay still when there’s a good song playing, but for some reason, he felt rooted in his spot, eyes still stuck on one particular guitarist.

Watching him play, move around and sing along was completely mesmerizing, his aura shifting to something raw and completely immersed in his own music. The single focus the man had for his performance stole Wooyoung’s breath away. 

San's eyes moved away from his guitar, smile widening as he watched the crowd. He sent one wink in someone’s general direction, laughing at the sound of squeals. His eyes shifted higher, to the back of the room where their table was. His eyes met Wooyoung’s, and it felt like time was slowing as they settled on him, stealing his breath away. 

San blinked, looking away and down at his guitar. From here, Wooyoung couldn’t make out San’s features well, but he could see how his smile dropped, a curious expression overtaking his face.

Wooyoung took a deep breath, time moving again as he also looked away, shifting his eyes down to his drink, ice completely melted at this point.

He felt eyes on him again, and peered up to find his two friends staring at him from across the table with their mouths wide open. Seonghwa’s eyes were narrowed, while Yunho’s surprised expression was quickly morphing into a teasing one, smile stretching and brows rising high to hide behind his bangs.

“He was staring at you,” noted Seonghwa.

“Wooyoung, what was that?” Yunho’s voice came out higher than usual, amused and breathless, as if he was trying hard to stop himself from straight up laughing.

“Do you know him?” Seonghwa’s eyes narrowed further, a protective edge to his voice.

Wooyoung tried hard to stop the furious blush from spreading to his face. The last thing he needed was for his friends to embarrass him on his birthday with their ceaseless teasing. He was failing miserably, if the way he felt his face get hotter with every passing second was anything. He shook his head vigorously. “I swear, it was nothing.” 

“He was. Staring at you.”

“And you were staring at him,” Yunho laughed.

“He was just looking in our general direction, maybe he was looking at Seonghwa, who knows,” Wooyoung gestured at his friend. Seonghwa raised an eyebrow at him, and Wooyoung bit the inside of his cheek. Thankfully, he was saved from his friends’ pestering by the band starting their next song, and they turned away to watch the performance, though not without casting a look to Wooyoung that promised teasing later. 

The band moved on to the next song, and then another. Wooyoung tried his best to simply enjoy the performance, giving an equal amount of attention to all three members, but his eyes couldn’t help but stray to San. He felt magnetized, drawn to San helplessly. From the snickers across from him, he wasn’t hiding his interest that well. Could you blame him though? San was handsome, and he played the guitar, and he had dimples. Not to mention, anytime their eyes met, it sent a jolt of electricity straight through Wooyoung. He sighed. Yeah. Guess he really hadn’t been subtle with his staring. 

In a helpless attempt to distract himself from such thoughts—after all, the other was a stranger, and Wooyoung was only here for his birthday, not to find someone for the night—he decided maybe it was time to look for his two missing friends. 

Last he saw them, they’d been jumping to the live music, but then from one song to the next, they somehow disappeared, gone off somewhere without telling their friends.

Wooyoung’s brows bunched up, and he turned his head, trying to locate where the couple could have gone. The club wasn’t so big, he usually would’ve been able to spot them easily, unless they went to the restroom. But the two would’ve let them know if they were going anywhere, it was a rule in their group, to not worry the rest. They’re all responsible for each other.

He turned his head back to his friends, a sense of unease slowly gnawing at him. “Seonghwa, have you seen Yeosang and Jong-”

The music stopped abruptly, lights cutting off and plunging them into total darkness. 

Many startled gasps rang out. Wooyoung reached for his phone, palming at the table to try and find it by touch alone. 

“Actually, tonight is a very special night,” Hongjoong’s voice carried through the speakers, calming the panic that quickly overtook everyone. “We have a surprise planned for someone present here tonight.” 

A flame flickered to life, and Wooyoung turned in time to see Yeosang smiling at him, lighting up a candle. 

“It seems it’s someone’s birthday today, so we’ll take a moment to wish him a happy birthday,” Hongjoong continued, and Wooyoung realized with a start that he was tonight’s special person, that this entire thing had been planned for him. 

Yeosang put the candle into the muffin that Jongho was holding, and the pair slowly made their way to him, smiling brightly. He stood up, meeting them halfway, the grin on his face so wide it was starting to hurt. Wooyoung’s friends and many of the club goers must’ve all been in on this plan because soon he was surrounded by people, all singing him the birthday song. Jongho was leading the singing, belting a too complicated version of the birthday song, with a few of their friends harmonizing with him, and a few sounding completely off key. Wooyoung’s eyes pricked with unshed tears, and his friends’ grins only widened when they noticed. He smiled back and blew out the candle, earning him a round of applause from everyone. 

“Happy birthday, Wooyoung,” announced Hongjoong on the mic, the lights finally coming back on. 

Wooyoung got swarmed by everyone who had come for him, friends pulling him into hugs, clapping his back, and handing him gifts. The music picked up again, something softer to allow the moment to go on longer. When Wooyoung finally got his hands around Jongho, he squeezed him hard. 

“So that’s why the two of you disappeared! You had me worried for a moment,” he chided. 

The younger laughed in his arms. “We had to pretend we were too busy dancing so that you wouldn’t be suspicious if we suddenly disappeared to bring back the muffin. It was Yeosang’s idea.”

“Of course it was, you demon,” Wooyoung huffed, turning to a proud Yeosang. 

The crowd dispersed again, most of them going back to their own tables or friends and Wooyoung was now left with just his closest friends. 

“How did you guys even pull this off?” He asked, a note of genuine curiosity in his voice. Surely they wouldn’t have rented the entire club, that would be much too expensive, not to mention, Wooyoung did see many unfamiliar faces that had been just as confused as he was when the lights first went off. There were regulars here who had no clue any of this was happening.

Yunho sheepishly looked down to his feet as he scratched the side of his neck. “I may or may not have talked to the club owner about this, he was happy to go along with it since I said I’d bring him a band for free.”

Wooyoung’s eyes bulged. “You brought the band?”

“Mingi was more than happy to help when I mentioned wanting to do a surprise for your birthday,” his friend shrugged, like he hadn’t just organized the best surprise Wooyoung’s ever had. 

Wooyoung turned to Seonghwa next, wanting to ask if he had known as well, but Seonghwa had such a nonplussed look on his face that Wooyoung couldn’t help but giggle, not needing to ask to know. 

Jongho leaned in and dramatically stage-whispered, answering the silent question anyway. “We didn’t trust that Seonghwa would be able to keep the surprise a secret so we didn’t tell him we were doing this.” Seonghwa gasped loudly, then crossed his arms, muttering in offense about the lack of respect for the oldest, eliciting laughs from the rest of the group.

A new presence in their circle interrupted their conversation, and Yunho was the first to recognize the unfamiliar face. 

“Hongjoong!” He smiled. 

Wooyoung blinked in surprise at seeing the singer with them and not on stage, then he almost choked at seeing the other two members also making their way towards them. He coughed, and Seonghwa’s hands immediately came to rest gently on his back, rubbing circles. “You okay?”

Wooyoung nodded, too embarrassed to look up and watch as a certain guitarist that he hadn’t stopped staring at came up to them. 

“Thank you so much for today, he really had no idea any of this was for him,” Wooyoung heard Yunho say, to Hongjoong no doubt. 

“Of course, I’m glad we could be a part of this. Plus, it was fun,” the frontman grinned, “I didn’t expect such a crowd on a Wednesday night.”

“That’s the power of Wooyoung,” sighed Yeosang, sounding completely done. “He told everyone to bring as many people as they could tonight and well, who can say no to him?” His eyes sparkled with mirth though, and Wooyoung couldn’t help but wrap his arms around him and pull him into a hug, managing to land a wet, loud kiss on his cheek, to Yeosang’s utmost disgust. 

“I hope you enjoyed the performance,” a deep voice called out. Wooyoung glanced back in time to see Mingi and San, the other two band members, join their makeshift circle. Yunho threw his arms around Mingi, and the drummer’s lips pulled up into a gummy smile, immediately melting away his intimidating aura from when he was on stage. 

“Of course we did,” Yunho exclaimed, much to Mingi’s delight.

Seonghwa nodded, “It really was amazing, you guys sounded so good!”

Mingi flushed, smiling gratefully at him and murmuring thanks. Hongjoong stared at Seonghwa, then moved forward, extending his hand. “I’m really glad you thought so. I’m Hongjoong, by the way, the leader and lead singer of the band.”

“Oh?” Yunho whispered, raising his brows. 

Seonghwa blinked at him once, twice, then took his hand. “I’m Seonghwa.”

Jongho jumped in between them, putting his hand on top of their joined ones. “I’m Jongho. I think I’ve seen you before when renting one of the studios.”

Hongjoong laughed, not minding the intrusion, though not moving away from Seonghwa either. “Yeah, that checks out. I more or less live there at this point.”

Upon realizing that Hongjoong is Jongho’s senior, the two quickly delved into a light discussion about their latest projects. Yunho joined them soon enough, with Mingi still hanging off his arms.

Wooyoung snickered at the growing blush on Seonghwa’s face when Hongjoong suggested they dance. While Seonghwa was incredibly good looking, he was also very lacking in the social cues department, often missing the hint when someone was trying to flirt. Hongjoong’s method of approach left no room for questions though, being as direct and straightforward as one can be. “Guess Seonghwa finally won’t be complaining about being single anymore,” he whispered to Yeosang.

Yeosang wiggled out of Wooyoung’s arm, then he leaned in, whispering back to him, “He’s not the only one. You should also do something about the man who wouldn’t stop staring at you since earlier.”

Wooyoung’s own teasing smile dropped and he hissed at his friend, ignoring how hot he suddenly felt. 

He knew. He knew San was staring, he had noticed the eyes on him from the moment the man joined their circle and Wooyoung had specifically kept his arms around Yeosang to keep him away for as long as possible. Except Yeosang knew him like the back of his hand and has now ditched him to go be in his boyfriend’s arms, the little traitor.

It was mortifying, to suddenly have the guitarist so close to him. It was all fun and games to stare at him while he was on stage, so far away and out of reach, but it was a whole different ordeal to have him so close by, clearly aware of Wooyoung’s interest. Curse Wooyoung and his inability to control himself.

The most frustrating part of all this was that he wasn’t normally like this. Usually, he loved the attention, loved to flirt a little here and there. But this felt different, more intense than his occasional hookups, bigger than the both of them. For starters, his heart hadn’t been able to calm down since their eyes met earlier near the stage, and Wooyoung usually never involved his heart in his hookups.

He turned to San, finding him already looking at him with a small dimpled smile, and fuck the guy really was so pretty. Wooyoung opened his mouth, ready to break whatever awkwardness had befallen them, when San beat him to it, “Do you want to get a drink?”

San blinked, then his dimple deepened, “Oh sorry, were you going to say something?”

Wooyoung shook his head, a shy smile of his own pulling at his face. “No, I was going to ask to get drinks as well.” 

He walked back towards the bar, San right next to him with a small hand hovering at his back, not quite touching him. Wooyoung wasn’t sure what would frustrate him more, a stranger touching his back, or a San refusing to touch his back. 

“Are you guys done with your set?” 

His question took San by surprise, the guitarist blinking at him in confusion with wide eyes before processing the question. 

“Ah, yes,” the man hurried to answer. He guided Wooyoung to two empty barstools, gesturing to the bartender. “We only had a two hour slot to perform. It was plenty of time though, it’s more than you would hope for at some place, and we only really wanted to perform for your birthday surprise either way.” 

Wooyoung hummed in thought. “I’m more of a dancer, so I wouldn’t really know how bands work exactly, but I guess it’s the same for us with our performances and shows— the time limit, I mean.”

“It’s exactly the same,” San nodded excitedly. He suddenly seemed shy then, looking down as he fiddled with the glass the bartender poured for them. “I actually already know that you’re a dancer. I know who you are.”

“You mean Yunho told you about me?” Wooyoung wondered if this guy who perfectly fit his taste and happened to perform on his birthday was all a stunt pulled by his friend, a far-fetched attempt at setting them up without his knowledge. 

San shook his head. “No, well— I meant, I knew you from before. We… uh, we’re in the same class.” San finished off awkwardly, his fingers tapping mindlessly at the rim of his glass. 

Wooyoung’s eyebrows shot up, jaw dropping despite his best attempt at schooling his expression. San glanced at him, only for his timid smile to quirk up into something that was somewhere between shocked and amused. 

“I knew you probably didn’t know me but— Really? You really had no clue that we share a class?” If San’s voice didn’t have the tinge of amusement to it, Wooyoung would’ve been deeply mortified, twice as ashamed as he felt right now, mentally booking himself a flight to the furthest continent away from this place. At least San seemed to take it all in with a laugh, not minding that a classmate barely recognized him even though they were halfway through the semester already.

Wooyoung was still staring at him open mouthed. He tried his best to remember, wracked his brain for anything familiar; If, maybe, he had seen San before in one of his classes. But his mind came up blank. How had it escaped him that someone so perfect had been in his vicinity? He really felt like he would have noticed him immediately if he had ever seen him, maybe would have even walked up to him and given him his number right there on the spot. Yet it took them until the end of November to meet.

“We share dance history together,” a disbelieving laugh bubbled out of San. “You always sit at the very front, I usually like to sit a few rows behind.”

Wooyoung groaned in his hands, then put his head on the table. “Ugh, that class,” he let out, voice high and whiny. “Seonghwa always drags me to sit at the very front. It’s so boring, and I can never sleep through it because the professor is always staring right at me. Honestly, that’s why I always just bolt the second it’s over.”

He heard a giggle to his left, so he raised his head slowly, feeling shy for a different reason now. San had that same confident amused look from earlier, when he had caught Wooyoung staring at him. 

San’s hand came to rest on his back, then he slowly started rubbing circles. It lit up every single nerve in Wooyoung’s body.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

Wooyoung’s entire body froze. What?

“What?” He voiced out.

He thought maybe he might’ve misheard, that maybe he was simply hallucinating that the other man was propositioning him after only having talked to him for 0.3 seconds. He hadn’t even touched his drink yet.

But San smiled knowingly, mouth tilting up on one side, like they were sharing a secret no one else was privy to. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” he repeated, enunciating every word. 

Wooyoung should’ve known, really, that this would be the outcome of this. After all, San was a guitarist of a band picking him up from their local bar. And yet Wooyoung could’ve sworn that the shy glances had been genuine.

So he should say no. They barely knew each other, they barely talked. But something about the other’s wild tussled hair, the sweat still shining on his brows, the amused twinkle in his eyes, made Wooyoung nod, wordlessly following San when he took his hand to lead him outside. 

His brain caught up with what was happening, almost as if snapping out of his daze, and he tugged at San’s hand. “Wait—”

San stopped in his tracks, turning to him with his brows slightly furrowed in worry. 

“I have to find Seonghwa, or anyone. I can’t leave without telling them.”

San’s shoulders fell, his features relaxing. He turned his head, spotting Seonghwa right away with his pink hair. The older was standing to the side with Hongjoong, the two talking by themselves away from the group. 

“Hwa!” Wooyoung yelled out.

Seonghwa’s head whipped to their direction, and Wooyoung waved at him, gesturing to the hand that’s still holding San’s. The smile on Seonghwa’s face grew tenfold, and the slight raise of one singular eyebrow told him he understood everything that needed to be said, shooing him off with his hand from afar. Wooyoung’s own smile must’ve told him that he was expecting to be filled in later on whatever he will miss by leaving now. 

San dragged him through a side entrance to the backside of the building. It was a shady alley, but it wouldn’t be the worst place Wooyoung had made out with someone at, so he didn’t really comment on it. But then, San didn’t stop, instead walking them through the alley, out to a bigger street where some cars were parked. The two were in front of a motorcycle, one of those big black ones with red edges on the sides, and Wooyoung doesn’t really process that they’ve stopped in front of it until San was pulling a helmet free from where it was locked to the side of the motorcycle and then handing it to him. 

Wooyoung blinked down at the thing like it was his first time seeing one. Well, technically it was his first time seeing one that looked so fancy. 

San pushed it in his hands, a nervous smile playing on his lips. “Hope you don’t mind riding on the back of a motorcycle?” He had tried to say it like a statement, but it came out sounding like a question either way.

Wooyoung looked at the helmet in his hands then back up at San and had to bite down his tongue to hold back from voicing out the thought that just crossed his mind. How was it possible for someone to get even hotter? 

San nervously tapped the seat, a habit that Wooyoung was noticing a lot, though he didn’t understand why would someone like San ever feel nervous around him. 

“Here, let me help you with that,” San took a step forward towards Wooyoung, gently pulling the helmet back from his grasp. “Sorry, but I can’t let you ride without it, it’s a rule of mine.”

Great. Sexy and safe. 

San took another step closer, the two of them standing face to face, less than an arm length apart. Neither of them said a word, or let out a single breath. From this up close, Wooyoung studied the moles on San’s face. He hadn’t noticed them before, but there were many of them, on his cheek, on his eyelid— For a moment, Wooyoung wanted to grab his face and simply start counting them. Then San’s hand rose to his face and his breath was stolen away. He pressed down on his lips, eyes never straying from the other’s face, as San pushed his long hair behind his ears. 

San’s eyes were studying Wooyoung with the same burning curiosity, the same hunger, and for a moment, his eyes strayed down, settling on his lips, then he looked back up, face a lot redder than before. 

Just as Wooyoung was about to open his mouth, to say fuck it and grab the other’s face, San pushed the helmet on his head, laughing at the surprised noise Wooyoung let out at the sudden move. 

San gave a light tap to Wooyoung’s head, then in one swift move, climbed up on his bike and threw his leg over, pushing the kickstand up so that the motorcycle was now being held up by him. He gestured to his back, motioning for Wooyoung to get on. 

The thing is, Wooyoung’s never been on one of these. Never drove one, nor ridden in the back of one. The closest to riding he got was riding bicycles as a kid, but he was certain they’re two very different experiences.

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous?” San’s helmet covered everything but his eye, his visor raised, but Wooyoung could see the amused glimmer, the way his eyes squinted, a cheeky grin high on his face and turning his eyes into crescents.

Wooyoung made a show of scoffing and rolling his eyes, taking a confident step forward. His movement while climbing was a lot less confident however, his hands gripping onto San’s shoulder painfully as he clambered on. It was higher than he expected, and when he sat up properly, his feet couldn’t even touch the ground. Add to it the way the bike was tilting dangerously to the left, and it made him feel like it’ll fall over at any second and send them both to the ground. Wordlessly, he moved his hands to circle San’s waist, pressing himself close and clutching a little too tightly. He felt a rumble under his hands, and San’s shoulder shook with laughter. 

“We haven’t even moved yet and you’re already holding on to me so tightly,” San turned his head slightly, meeting Wooyoung’s eyes. 

Wooyoung’s lips curled out in a pout, not that San could see it. He was sure the other could hear the petulant whine at the edge of his voice though. “Fine, okay, I admit it. I’ve never ridden on one of these before.”

“Don’t worry, just hold on tight, I don’t mind.” San’s hand flicked a big red button, and he added teasingly, “I’ll go slow for you.”

“Don’t you dare!” Wooyoung gasped, affronted. His hand pinched the skin under his hands— a hard task when everything was taut muscle. Still, San felt the touch and startled, a small yelp escaping his lips, followed by peals of laughter. He swatted at the hands, but didn’t move them away from around his waist.

The guitarist straightened the bike and turned the ignition key. Wooyoung watched curiously as San moved his left foot slightly then flicked his right hand, turning the handle. The bike rumbled under them and jerked to life, then it started going forward, slowly picking up speed after they went to the right lane of the street. San’s left hand let go of the clutch, and with another flick of a hand, they sped faster, easily bypassing the one car that had been ahead of them. 

Wooyoung’s hands tightened around the man as they sped through the streets, buildings and lights blurring around him. He felt the air whipping at him, cold and sharp, and he almost wished he wasn’t wearing a helmet, just so he could feel it in his hair. San accelerated more, confidently driving them through empty streets. The rumble of the exhaust, the screech of the tires against the asphalt; The feeling of speeding on a motorcycle was so much more enjoyable than he ever imagined, his lips pulling up in a wide grin, adrenaline pumping in his veins.

Wooyoung tentatively let go of the body in his arms, raising his hands high and smiling at the feeling. When he felt confident enough, he let out a loud whoop, fully enjoying the quietness around them. It was like they were the only ones in the world, just the two of them and the stars winking at them from above. 

“Hands on me, pretty boy,” San quipped at him, though his smile was obvious from his tone. “I wouldn’t want my backpack to fall off on his first ride out.”

His first ride out. 

He hoped San meant there would be more to come. The way San was talking, it felt like that was exactly what he was saying.

Wooyoung’s arms circled the waist again, though this time a lot more comfortably, giving San’s middle one squeeze before letting his arms lazily hang low around him. He leaned his head on the man’s shoulder, enjoying feeling the broad back against his chest. 

“You enjoyin’ this?” San asked tentatively. His index finger moved to something, and the blinker signaled they were turning left. Wooyoung didn’t know where they were going, but he didn’t mind this detour San seemed to be taking just to enjoy the night ride. 

San turned one street sharply, the bike veering dangerously to the right and Wooyoung’s nails dug deeper into the other man as he let out a surprised gasp. Despite the fright he just had, he cackled, heart roaring in his throat. 

“This is so fun,” he answered, then squealed happily when San turned the throttle again, the bike rumbling in response and going even faster.

It was a whole new feeling, a whole new experience, to see the city this way. Wooyoung had gone out on late night rides around the city with his friends before, usually in Yunho’s car. He liked it, mindlessly driving through empty streets, blaring music that they would usually find too cringy to listen to, and singing their hearts out. Usually it’s Taylor Swift songs, when all of them but Yunho were drunk beyond feeling embarrassed about knowing every word to “Style,” or one time, it was “What does the fox say”. But those drives could never be compared to this, to the feeling of the engine under you, to feeling every sharp turn in your bones, every slight change to the speed. To really feel the world around you. 

Another laugh slipped through his lips. He really hadn’t imagined he’d be spending his birthday out on the back of a motorcycle of a cute boy in the middle of a busy school week, but he couldn’t be happier at the moment. 

Eventually San slowed down, easing the bike to a stop. Wooyoung didn’t recognize where they were. They were in the middle of nowhere, by some run-down buildings. He couldn’t help but feel surprised at the location, having fully expected San to turn around and take them back to his place at some point. Was that not what San had insinuated earlier? 

“You know, if you wanted to murder me, taking me to a forest would’ve been easier,” he commented with a teasing grin. 

San’s shoulders shook with a quiet laugh, killing the engine with the kill switch and jumping off. He grabbed Wooyoung by the waist, holding him steady as Wooyoung twisted himself off the bike. Then San wordlessly took the helmet off for him as well. “There’s a reason we’re here, you’ll see.” 

Wooyoung cocked an eyebrow at him, though he didn’t comment further. San had a secretive smile playing on his lips, one that was too cute for Wooyoung to be able to resist, so he played along, letting out a dramatic sigh and following behind him as the other led him inside a specific building. 

Wooyoung was surprised when he walked in and was faced with rows and rows of vinyls, low music humming in the background. The warm light provided a comfortable inviting feeling, the vines hanging from the shelves adding to the coziness of the place. Did San bring him to a record store?

A young freckled man with long silver hair and dark circles under his eyes stared at them from behind the counter. His eyes lingered on San for a moment, almost in interest, and Wooyoung felt a low flame of jealousy lick at his heart. He frowned at himself, looking away, and squished down the thought. He didn’t know San like, he couldn't possibly feel any jealousy. San was good looking, attractive and well built, it was natural for him to attract the attention of people, to have eyes on him. Hell, Wooyoung was turning heads at a club just a few hours ago.

The pretty man greeted them curiously, no doubt wondering what they were doing here at midnight on a Wednesday. “Hey guys, need anything?” 

Wooyoung startled at the deeper tone to the man’s voice, contrasting his slender look. San seemed used to it, simply shrugging. “We’re just looking around, Lix.” 

The clerk smiled, and Wooyoung understood then. It wasn’t interest that he’d regarded San with earlier, it was recognition, the smile playing on his lips almost teasing as the man’s eyes danced between Wooyoung and San. “Great, I am so not in the mood for customers tonight.”

San nodded empathetically, “Long night?”

The clerk dug around under the counter, pulling his phone out. Wooyoung could see him boot a game up, Genshin, or something like that. He wasn’t too familiar, only heard of it in passing from Yunho. 

“You could say that. I’m never letting Chris convince me to take the graveyard shift ever again,” he grumbled. 

“Don’t worry bro, you can act as if we’re not here.”

The clerk took San’s words to heart, immediately turning his attention to his phone, not minding them in the slightest. San took Wooyoung’s hand in his, pulling him towards the back of the store. 

They walked through shelves of albums, mostly vinyls and CDs, but he could see a bucket of cassettes as well. The whole place had a bold personality, rock symbols, middle fingers, posters. Yet the fake vines hanging from the shelves, the bright yellow walls, the faint smell of vanilla made it also seem impossibly soft. A mix of contradictions that blended together perfectly. It fit someone like San, someone so confident, borderline arrogant, on stage yet so mellow, nothing but round edges, now that they were by themselves. 

A name that Wooyoung recognized made him stop, drawing him near, and he pulled San with him. 

He gasped, grabbing a vinyl gently, too worried about dropping it and accidentally damaging it. The price tag on it told him he wouldn’t be able to pay for it if he did. 

“You like Mitski?” San asked from his side, reading the big letters at the front of the cover. 

Wooyoung nodded affirmatively, turning it around in his hands. Despite him being a dance student, and a performing arts major, he wasn’t big on music; mostly listening to whatever songs his friends had on their playlists. It was his first time seeing the physical form of an album he liked. 

He looked back at the section he’d grabbed the vinyl from, labeled “indie-pop”, and looked through a few more albums. He didn’t recognize most of them, but any time he did, he’d gasp, excitedly grabbing it even though he knew he wouldn’t be buying them right now. It was exciting, to see the physical copy of albums he’d only ever heard digitally. The prospect of owning them was enticing, but just going through the stack of vinyls and trying to find the ones he knew was just as fun.

San was staring at him from the side, eyes soft yet intense as he watched Wooyoung pick yet another vinyl up with starry eyes. 

“If you want, I can ask Felix to keep some on the side for you. You can come back and buy them another day if you don’t want to get anything now.”

Wooyoung’s head whipped to him, “Can you?” but then his smile fell. “Ah, I shouldn’t. I don’t even have a player that I can use to listen to them.” 

San’s lips quirked up, “Many people still get them just to collect them, you know.”

“I feel like that’s such a waste.” A stray hair fell in front of his eyes, and before he could try to blow it away, San raised his hand, gently tucking it behind his ear. Wooyoung turned his eyes to him, then quickly looked away, huffing, the blush permanently sitting on his cheeks deepening. “If they’re just sitting there on my shelves at home and collecting dust then I would feel like that’s just a waste of good music. They could’ve gone to someone who’d appreciate them better instead,” he shook his head. 

San didn’t press on, instead leading him to a counter further in the back, where a few radio CD-players were on display. Next to them was a big brown record player, open but with a dust cover keeping it clean.

San went straight to the record player, pulling the vinyl-shaped dust cover right off. Wooyoung’s eyes widened, and he quickly shot a look back at the clerk. “Are you allowed to do that?” he hissed under his breath.

“Oh, yeah. The owner, Christopher, was Hongjoong’s senior in high school. We always come by and just hang here as we wish. He lets us.”

San ignored the incredulous look that Wooyoung was giving him, instead pulling a basket from under the counter, filled with older looking albums. Wooyoung wanted to protest again at San pulling a vinyl out, but the guitarist sent him a wink, successfully short-circuiting Wooyoung’s brain and distracting him long enough to shut him up. “Don’t worry, these are all second hand, anyone is free to open and listen to them.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, “Fine, but I will be judging your music taste then.” 

San let out a laugh, the sound sending Wooyoung’s poor heart hammering, and he didn’t even try to be discreet as he stared unabashedly at the way San’s lips curled up, his nose scrunching. 

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less,” San said. 

The album that San had pulled had a bright blue cover that Wooyoung recognized immediately. His eyes lit up when the familiar sounds of guitar strumming came through. 

“Nirvana!” Wooyoung exclaimed excitedly. The familiar first beats of “Smells like teen spirit” played through, and Wooyoung started bopping along, not able to stop himself from dancing to it.

San’s smile widened, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “You know it!”

Wooyoung scoffed, rolling his eyes in mock offense. “Of course I do, who doesn’t?” But he had a small smile of his own, unable to hold back the excitement he felt. It wasn’t a song he’d usually listen to, but it was one of those songs he could never skip when it came up. Even now, he quietly mouthed the lyrics that he knew by heart, legs shifting along to the beat.

As the first song neared its end, San bent over the basket, searching and pulling out a different album, something with a black cover, quickly switching the vinyls before Wooyoung could read the label. San raised the tonearm, moving it expertly, as if he’d done this enough times to know exactly where to place it, and skipping to the track he wanted. It screeched slightly, and a single note played before San hurried to grab the tonearm and adjust it again.

Wooyoung wondered for a moment, just how often did San come here to have the album’s songs memorized in this way, to have the shop’s layout be so familiar to him, to be recognized by the workers here. It wasn’t common to find college students still interested in record stores, CDs and physical albums in general. Sure most of them—the students attending their particular university—were aspiring artists, and sure they studied music and dance for a living, and had to have passion for it to survive the grueling work, but it was a completely different story to still appreciate the art of music in this way; To take the time of day just to sit and listen to an album the way the artist had intended it to be listened to. 

It was that thought that made Wooyoung raise his head and look at San, truly look at him for the first time. Not the confident guitarist who had (not) propositioned him at a club at his own birthday party. This was San who had his tongue peeking out between his teeth and an adorable focused furrow of brows, almost pouting as he adjusted the needle so it would play the exact song he wanted. San who brought him here, somewhere that seemed so private and so dear to him. San who had been in his class for nearly three months, yet Wooyoung’s never noticed him before. 

In here, the two of them were tucked away from the world, no eyes on them, no ears listening in—if you forget about the clerk hiding behind the counter. They were in their own bubble, San fiddling with the record player and Wooyoung staring at him, his heart slowing for a moment and then speeding up again, climbing to his throat, at the realization of what he was feeling.

Whether this night led to them doing anything more or not, Wooyoung wanted to keep San in his life. This wasn’t just physical attraction, not in the way Wooyoung had assumed when his eyes first landed on the man. There was something more there, an instant connection that was so tangible that Wooyoung could almost see it, a thick cord tying them to each other, binding the two of them together.

“Is this a date?” He blurted out, thoughts running a mile a second.

It should be. Logically. And he wanted it to be. He didn’t want this to end in a hook-up where they both go home with each other's names on their tongues yet their hearts bare of any connection. He wanted to know that they won’t see each other again and pretend that they’ve never met before. And Wooyoung had seen the way San looked at him, both back in the club and here, in their own corner of the world. It was clear the man’s interest wasn’t purely amicable or even purely physical. But Wooyoung needed the verbal confirmation before his brain could convince him that San was just being friendly, that everything had been in his own head.

San froze, and the needle skidded from his fingers, landing in the middle of a song that seemed familiar to Wooyoung. He didn’t bother trying to identify it, all the noise turning to white static, his single focus on San. 

San nervously licked his lips, meeting his eyes hesitantly. “Do you want it to be a date?”

“Yes.” He should feel embarrassed by how quickly that came out, but he’s already come to this conclusion the moment he had asked. No point in hesitating, not when San’s face had turned so red, his eyes a mixture of hope and nervousness. It was painfully clear how much they both wanted this.

San let out a breath, relief washing over him, and confidence splitting his pretty lips into a smile, dimples adorning his cheeks. “Then it is.”

The words twisted Wooyoung’s insides into a flutter of butterflies, thousands of them that felt like they were about to erupt from under his skin—and oh is he so gone. 

San turned back to the record player, the flush and shy pleased smile not leaving his face. Wooyoung couldn’t even tease him because he was sure his own expression wasn’t any better.

A smooth voice came out from the record player, low and soft, accompanied by the piano. Slow notes rose higher to a familiar rock beat, one that Wooyoung vaguely recognized from an old song his older brother had been obsessed with. 

San stared at him, perhaps waiting for Wooyoung to recognize it, or to react. 

Wooyoung gasped softly, finally remembering whose song this was. He titled his head to the side, meeting San’s inquisitive eyes. “This is Queen!” 

San’s expression brightened, and he nodded excitedly. “I wasn’t sure you’d recognize them.”

Wooyoung shrugged. “They’re classic. I don’t recognize the song though.” Wooyoung leaned forward trying to read the song list on the album. 

“It’s… It’s Good old-fashioned lover boy,” San’s voice came out soft, slightly stumbling over his words. Then quietly, he admitted, “It’s my favorite.” 

Wooyoung’s eyes wandered over his face, taking in the sharp jaw, his small lips stretched into a warm smile, the dimples digging into his cheeks, the long lashes that fluttered as he swayed to the guitar sounds. San’s eyes darted to Wooyoung, shyly meeting his gaze. He was waiting for Wooyoung’s reaction.

Wooyoung felt the butterflies multiply rapidly, wanting to burst free. Wooyoung swallowed them all down, taking a deep breath in.

“I love it,” Wooyoung whispered. He meant it, the song was really nice. It was something he could see himself listening to. 

He closed his eyes, enjoying the swelling of vocals that enveloped them, hands tapping the surface of the counter along with the rhythm. 

Wooyoung had no idea how long the two of them stayed tucked away in that shop. They shared soft smiles as San played different songs, eventually urging Wooyoung to also play whatever interested him. They flipped through different genres and styles. One time, San had even played a funny song on purpose, just to make him laugh. Wooyoung couldn’t stop giggling as he danced along, completely off beat. 

When they’ve decided they’ve had enough, they put back the vinyls in their place and left with bright smiles on their faces. Felix had waved them goodbye, winking to San on the way.

Wooyoung ran ahead of San, beating him to the motorcycle. He took it in his hands, confidently sitting on it and looking at San from behind the windscreen with a teasing smile. He hadn’t pushed the kickstand, he could tell from the size of the bike that it’ll be too heavy for him to maneuver and keep upright. Not to mention, he wasn’t going to risk dropping it and scratching it. 

San leaned against the bike, staring at Wooyoung with half-lidded eyes, that same intense expression from earlier in the night on his face. Wooyoung was starting to understand what it meant, his gut churning. Wooyoung hadn’t realized that it had been pure want in San’s eyes, a hunger so raw that it sent a jolt through his body. 

Instead of letting the tension between them fester, he cleared his throat. “Would you teach me how to ride a bike one day?”

San’s eyes widened, snapping out of the trance he’d been in. He blinked a few times, then frowned in confusion. “I didn’t realize you were into biking?”

Wooyoung cocked his head, and the words that had been swimming in his head left his lips before he could hold them back. “I’m not but… I always thought bikers were hot.”

The reaction was instant. San’s face broke into a confident, if not teasing, smile. Wooyoung immediately realised what he had implied. His nose scrunched up and he scoffed, “Oh come off it, not you. I meant in general.”

San’s laughter rang out loudly, muffled only slightly by the wind around them, and Wooyoung felt a flush warm his face again. 

“Sure,” San winked—a horrible terrible wink that was doing horrible terrible things to Wooyoung’s poor heart. Then, San’s smile softened, and he said earnestly, “I can teach you right now, if you want?”

“What, now?” Wooyoung’s eyes widened. He looked around where they were. Sure, the street was empty, usually optimal for learning, but he had no idea how late it actually was. A quick glance to the bike’s dashboard showed him that it was almost 3 a.m. He and San had been in that store for hours, not aware of the passing of the time. But even if it was too late for any car to suddenly show up and interrupt their learning session, surely he couldn’t just… learn here? Shouldn’t it be in an empty parking lot instead? Or somewhere less open and dangerous? 

“C’mon,” huffed San. He motioned for him to properly put his feet on footpegs, then came around to stand behind Wooyoung. San leaned against him, chest to back, and put his hands around him and on the handles, covering Wooyoung’s own hands. “It’s easy, I promise.” San’s whisper sent a shiver through Wooyoung’s body, breath hot against his ear.  

“Here, look at this. It’s really simple.” His right hand flicked a red button, then turned something on the left side, while his left hand kept Wooyoung’s grip on the left clutch tight. “This one’s the kill switch,” he explained as he went through the motions. “The bike can’t work if this isn’t on. Then this is the ignition key, you just gotta turn it once.” 

Wooyoung nodded along as San showed him. “Turn signals are right here on the left. Have you ever driven a manual?” 

“I did, for my driver’s exam, only that once though.” 

“Well, I’d say the mechanics for this bike aren’t that different really.” San let out a deep breath. “To get the bike going, you have to ease the clutch, with barely any throttle. If you let it go too soon or too fast, it’ll stop dead. I’m here for that though so don’t worry about messing up. The left foot is your shifter, you shift gears by holding the clutch then moving the left peg up once.”

Simple enough.

Wooyoung felt his mouth run dry, and he swallowed. If not for his feet being on the pegs, he’d have started nervously bouncing them up and down. This felt a little too real, and he wasn’t in fact ready to learn how to ride a motorcycle, especially such a big one. His hands started sweating against the fancy rubber. He wanted to wipe them on his jeans, but San’s hands, although smaller than his, completely held them in place, grip tight. 

With practiced ease, San raised the kickstand, then jumped behind Wooyoung, still holding the handlebar. His feet were keeping the bike straight, but Wooyoung knew he was supposed to drive them now.

“Wait— San, I can’t—” He panicked, but San was quick to sooth him, settling his head on his shoulder and meeting his eyes as best as he could given the angle.

“We won’t go fast, or move at all if you don’t want to,” he placated, voice gentle. “We can just move really slow until you get a feel for it, yeah?”

Wooyoung’s eyes darted between San and the dashboard. Too many numbers and buttons that he didn’t understand. He didn’t even like driving cars. He only got his drivers’ license so that if their designated driver—Yunho, usually—ever wanted to get drunk, Wooyoung could drive in his place.

But Wooyoung had enjoyed the feeling of the bike under him earlier. And he enjoyed the grip of his hands on the clutches right now. He wanted to say fuck it. He trusted San to have his back, figuratively and literally since he was sitting behind him. 

San’s hand eased the throttle, barely any pressure there. His left hand slowly let go of its death grip, and Wooyoung understood to follow his guidance, slowly taking his fingers off it. 

“Easy,” whispered San again in his ear, not moving his head away from where it was nestled against his shoulder. Wooyoung suppressed a shiver at the man’s low voice. “And barely any throttle, let us go as slow as we want.” 

Wooyoung followed his movements, and the bike under him rumbled quietly, slowly moving forward. Wooyoung beamed, an excited grin splitting his face, and San chuckled. His right hand let go of the throttle, coming around Wooyoung in a comfortable grip, while his left hand continued to guide him into slowly letting go of the clutch.

“There you go, you’re doing it,” San squeezed his middle, laughing when Wooyoung flinched.

“I’m doing it.” Wooyoung couldn’t help but bite his lip, nerves fizzling and turning to excitement. 

He wanted so badly to turn around and look at San, see his reaction to him driving his motorcycle. But Wooyoung couldn’t move his eyes away from the street, despite how slow they were going. The street was empty, completely desolate at this time of night, but the idea of any car suddenly coming and him not reacting in time completely terrified him.

“Let’s shift gears,” San told him, gripping the clutch once again. Wooyoung remembered what he told him earlier, about the left foot, and he raised it, watching the number on the dashboard go up by one. It was just the basics of driving yet it made Wooyoung feel giddy.

San’s left hand let go of the handlebar completely, coming around Wooyoung instead. “Let’s keep it at this speed, when you feel like going slightly faster, do what we just did. Clutch, shifter, throttle, then let go. Don’t go above third gear though.” 

Wooyoung nodded. “Isn’t it bad for your bike to stay in second gear?” 

San shifted behind him, settling comfortably against him. “There’s no real harm in it. I don’t mind. We’re not wearing the proper gear for going full speed so I’d rather we keep this pace than risk busting our heads.”

Wooyoung was initially embarrassed for going at this speed, but since San didn’t seem to mind, he simply enjoyed the rumble under him and the weight of the bike as it moved, focusing more on keeping it straight and not veering into a lamp post by accident. 

When they reached the edge of the street, San took control of the handlebar again, guiding them into a slow stop, before getting off and helping Wooyoung off. 

Wooyoung couldn’t contain his excitement anymore, jumping up and down and rambling off. “That was so fun! I didn’t expect it to be so easy, it always seemed so much more complicated and intimidating you know? But it felt so good, and I really want to learn to go faster next time. I can’t believe you actually let me drive your bike—” 

When he noticed San staring at him with a small smile on his face, not saying anything, he paused, feeling his own face heat up. He kept doing that, kept studying Wooyoung, not caring if the latter noticed or not. 

“Sure, next time I’ll let you go faster,” San mumbled.

Wooyoung looked down at the concrete, suddenly finding it much more interesting. He bit the inside of his cheek before speaking. “Thank you. Not just for—For everything, I’ve enjoyed the ride and I also enjoyed going to the record store with you. It’s the best date I’ve ever been on.”

He raised his eyes, tentatively meeting San’s. San’s face was flushed, but he stubbornly stared at him, unwilling to look away from his face. 

“I’m really glad. I really enjoyed it as well.”

For a moment, the two stared at each other. Wooyoung felt his tongue heavy in his mouth. This felt like a goodbye, but he didn’t want a goodbye yet. Or ever. San seemed to be facing the same struggle, his mouth opening then closing without saying a word.

“I did think you were gonna get us killed with those driving skills though,” San finally remarked. He put his hands in his pockets, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

Wooyoung’s jaw dropped, eyes bulging. He hit the man on the shoulder, his hand smacking loudly against the leather. “What do you mean ‘get us killed’? I’ll have you know I’m a great driver!” He hit him again, just to drive his point in.

San giggled, holding Wooyoung’s wrist to stop him from hitting him a third time, pulling him flush against him instead, with Wooyoung’s free hand naturally landing on the other’s chest. 

Wooyoung couldn't help the small squeak. He looked into San’s dark eyes, watching the way the man’s eyes roamed his face, settling for a few seconds on his lips then back up on his eyes. Wooyoung held his breath, stomach clenching with anticipation as San leaned in ever so slightly, breath fanning out on Wooyoung’s face. 

And just when it seemed like San might cross the distance between them, his head tilting closer, he blew out a warm breath, laughing at the way Wooyoung’s face screwed up. It echoed in the empty street, and Wooyoung pouted, pulling away and making a show of turning away and stomping his feet. San’s laughter was too infectious though, and soon he found himself laughing as well. 

He enjoyed this, he enjoyed whatever they were having, this push and pull between them. He was willing to let it drag out if it means he can pretend that their night together wasn’t soon coming to a close. 

San pulled their helmets from where they’d been hanging off the back with locked straps, handing Wooyoung the same one from earlier. This time when Wooyoung sat behind San, he comfortably put his arms around the man, enjoying the way San revved up the bike and showed it off properly now that Wooyoung wasn’t terrified to be sitting at the back of it. 

“Where are we going?” Wooyoung asked.

“To take you on a second date.”

Wooyoung’s heart stuttered, and he tightened his arms around San, squeezing his middle. “A second date already Sannie? One would say you can’t get enough of me.”

San didn’t reply. Instead, he bounced his left leg, shifting gears, flying through the street at an even higher speed to avoid answering. Wooyoung’s eyes widened. Wooyoung wanted to push, to tease him and ask why he was not refuting his words. 

Instead, he gripped the man’s leather jacket and whispered, heart in his throat and much too genuine, “A date at 3 am? Where would we even go at this time?”

The smirk was evident in San’s voice when he replied, “I might know a place.” 

✦

Wooyoung was surprised that there was a café still open late at night. To be fair, it was closer to being a diner, with black and white tiles and pink walls and large tables scattered around. It had a retro vibe to it, and the door even let out a cute jingle when San pushed it open, which immediately made Wooyoung love this place. 

The place was not as quiet as Wooyoung expected, with another group of four people around their age sitting at the corner, chatting quietly with plates of pancakes in front of them. 

“Do you come here often?” Wooyoung turned to San, eying him curiously. At first glance, from the sharp features, cropped black hair and the leather jacket, San did not look like the type to frequent a pink retro 24/7 diner, but Wooyoung has gotten to know the San beyond the cool facade, and now it didn’t seem out of place for him that San would enjoy a place such as this one.

San passed a hand through his black locks, trying to fix his helmet hair and matt it down. He glanced at Wooyoung, shooting him a pretty smile. Wooyoung took a deep breath. San’s smile, his dimples, the messy hair—it was a dangerous combo, one that made him feel winded and weak in the knees. He was tempted to just skip the food and drag San away to kiss him senseless, but he held back. The romantic in him enjoyed the date aspect far too much, filling him with giddy warm feelings. He will make sure to get his hands on San sooner or later though, of that, he was certain. 

“Not really, actually,” San answered, though Wooyoung, for a moment, had blanked and completely forgot what he had even asked. “Mingi and I found it by accident one time, and always wanted to come back. Do you know this place?”

“Can’t say that I do,” he squeaked, scrambling to answer and not make it obvious that he was staring yet again. 

The twinkle in San’s eyes told him the other already knew, but his smile simply widened. “They’ve got amazing ice cream, you’ll see. It’s such a great place, I don’t know why I don’t come here more often. They have so many ice cream flavors— Oh! And their milkshakes are the best, so maybe next time—”

Wooyoung’s smile softened. He tilted his head, raising a brow at the guitarist. “Let’s come here at a reasonable time next time, maybe get the milkshakes for breakfast, or something.”

San blinked, then he nodded, pressing his lips together as if he was suppressing a smile and failing. “Yeah, let’s do that then.”

The girl at the counter was incredibly sweet. She waited patiently for them as the two bickered about ice cream flavors, even chipping in with her own input. 

“I know I’m supposed to sell the ice cream, but really, mint chocolate is just vile.”

“Thank you!” Wooyoung let out exasperated. San frowned, crossing his arms and grumbling. 

“It is not, it’s a great flavor, you just need to have the taste buds for it.”

The girl at the counter giggled, and Wooyoung shrugged, giving her a deadpan look that said “Do you see what I have to deal with?” 

“Well at least my tastes aren’t basic,” muttered San. “Who the hell likes vanilla, that’s like, the most basic answer ever.”

Wooyoung was affronted. He let out the loudest gasp he took, eyes widening comically. “Hey take that back! Don’t you dare insult my tastes just because yours are shit!”

“Not until you say yes to the mint choco.”

“Sannie, we agreed to share. I refuse to share if your mint horror ice cream is going to be touching my vanilla! Why can’t you just get regular chocolate?”

“Have you ever even tried mint chocolate ice cream?” San leaned into him, a challenging look in his eyes. And well, he got Wooyoung there. He never tried it, but it was a matter of principle! Everyone knew it tasted bad!

It was San’s turn now to act offended. He pulled Wooyoung closer to him by the shoulder then started shaking him. “Oh my god, you haven’t! You were just prejudiced against my ice cream!”

Wooyoung’s smile morphed into a guilty one, though he was planning on still shamelessly refusing to let him get that abhorrent toothpaste flavored ice cream. 

Before he could quip with his own reply, a jukebox, standing against the back wall on the other side of the room, caught his attention, and he sucked a small breath of air in. It looked like one of those classic old models, the kind you only ever see at movies. This place had an actual—hopefully working—jukebox? They just earned themselves five stars. 

San, who was standing much too close to Wooyoung, attention solely on him, noticed what caught Wooyoung’s eye, and his smile widened, his hands falling off Wooyoung’s shoulders. He turned to the girl and pointed at the jukebox with a hopeful smile. “Does that thing still work?”

She nodded excitedly, and waved at the two of them to go for it. “Yep,” she grinned, popping the p. “You can go ahead and turn it on if you want, should have a few recent songs, I think.”

Wooyoung immediately made his way to the machine, bounding up to it and kneeling, admiring the outside box. It was a wooden one, with multiple different buttons and a list of songs at its front. Wooyoung read through the list, recognizing some classics, and then finding a few songs that were from the 21st century. Overall it just seemed to have a mix of hits from different times and some niche songs that Wooyoung guessed were handpicked by whoever had loaded the songs on this particular jukebox.

He fished out a few quarters, putting in the 50 cents required per song, then hummed, wondering what song to pick. 

“Oh,” a voice whispered behind him. Wooyoung turned his head to find San leaning in over him, eyes stuck on a particular song. “I didn’t know they had this song here.” 

“Which one? You can pick it, if you want.”

San reached out, hesitantly clicking a song from the bottom of the list. “Let’s fall in love for the night” by FINNEAS. Not a name that Wooyoung recognized, but the title sounded romantic, and Wooyoung couldn’t help but feel a pang in his heart, turning his eyes back to San and wondering if his choice of song had been truly a coincidence. San was staring back at him, watching his reaction, always so attentive to Wooyoung’s every twitch.

The voice from the jukebox started, a soft whisper, a little mechanical and echoey, but charming nonetheless. 

“Let's fall in love for the night and forget in the mornin'”
“Play me a song that you like, you can bet I'll know every line”

Wooyoung held his breath, listening to the song attentively, hanging off every word that the singer sang oh so sweetly. San was swaying along next to him, and soon, the words to the song were falling off his lips, his voice mixing in, slowly growing louder with every word. He turned to Wooyoung, offering him a hand to help him up. 

“You need a pick me up? I'll be there in twenty five,” San sang, pulling Wooyoung up and closer to him. A laugh bubbled up in Wooyoung’s throat, though he bit his tongue and swallowed it, not wanting to ruin the moment. San looked just as amused, eyes crinkling and lips pulling up. He leaned in to whisper in Wooyoung’s ear, voice low. “I like to push my luck. So take my hand, let's take a drive.”

Wooyoung couldn’t hold the laughter, small giddy giggles erupting as San continued to serenade him. Wooyoung took San’s other hand in his and pulled him closer to the center of the room, dancing messily to the song. San’s voice had a nice ring to it, soft and deep, and Wooyoung knew the man sang, he had heard his voice back in the club, but it was a different experience to have him in his arms, singing only for him, his voice vibrating straight in his chest. The song had a sense of bitterness in it, a tone that spoke of fleeting feelings, of a love short-lived, yet San sang it with such tenderness. He sang it like a man willing to fall in love, over and over again even if he knew it would lead to his heart breaking every time. It sounded pointed, and Wooyoung couldn’t pretend that he didn’t feel himself resonating with it. 

They were like two people drunk off their feelings, letting the world melt away and only seeing one another in that small, brightly lit diner. 

When the song came to an end, the singer sounded helpless, accepting the end. 

San’s voice ended on a brighter note, his hopeful smile spoke of a thousand words—no song would be able to encapsulate the way Wooyoung’s heart filled with them. 

The claps from the other table finally brought them back to reality, bursting their small bubble. They had forgotten themselves, forgotten that there were others here beside the two of them. San’s smile turned bashful, and he nodded at them in thanks. 

In the end, San did order them vanilla, strawberry and mint chocolate ice cream to go. It was a horrible combination, one that made Wooyoung want to protest, but San didn’t really leave him with much choice. It turned out that he had already placed the order and paid for it behind his back, when Wooyoung first went to the Jukebox, and now Wooyoung had a large foam tub with the three different scoops and sweet toppings in his hands.

“Where are we going now?” Wooyoung asked curiously, following San outside. “The ice cream will melt if we don’t eat it immediately.”

San glanced at the cold dessert in his hands, then huffed. “It’s just a few minutes away, the ice cream will be fine if we’re quick enough.”

He ushered Wooyoung to the bike, driving them away as soon as they were both safely on it, Wooyoung with one hand around San and the other clutching the tub to his chest. The diner they were at was at the edge of their town, and San took a turn that led them through a street that had thick long trees framing it on either side, hiding away any hints of where they might be riding towards. Wooyoung wasn’t familiar with this particular path, so he couldn’t even guess if they were headed back into town or if San was taking them away from it. The bike didn’t slow until they reached what looked like the edge of a forest, a man-made path cutting through it, one that wasn’t large enough to allow them to go through it on the back of a motorcycle. San flipped down the kickstand, killing the ride, and hastily pulled off his helmet.

“I know I said murdering me in a forest would be better, but I was having a really nice evening so I would rather not die today,” Wooyoung deadpanned.

A choked laugh escaped out of San’s lips, and he turned wide reproaching eyes to Wooyoung. “I— What, no— Wooyoung,” he chided while laughing. “Just, come here.” 

He pulled Wooyoung’s helmet, sighing and rolling his eyes when Wooyoung made sure to put all his weight on San while he helped him off. 

San took Wooyoung’s hand in his, pulling him with him through the path. He led the way, familiar with his surroundings, while Wooyoung looked around curiously. He wasn’t aware they had a forest in their area. Their campus was in the middle of a large city, and well, despite being located on a hill, urban life didn’t promise much greenery. 

“We’re here,” San whispered, squeezing his hand once. 

Wooyoung hadn’t been paying much attention to where they were going, so he was taken back by the scenery when he turned his head and finally realized where San had brought them. He couldn’t help the gasp, jaw dropping. 

From where they stood, the city was just a glittering sea of lights, with the moon high above them. The crisscrossing streets were so clear, a human pattern that was obvious from so high up. 

“Are we at the edge of the hill?” he breathed out in wonder. 

San pulled him closer to the edge, where a few benches were laid out and a railing surrounded the edge. 

“It’s a popular spot for runners or hikers to stop and take a break,” San explained. “Figured it’s a good spot for ice cream?”

Wooyoung turned to him, excitement pitching his voice higher than it usually was. “It’s a great spot! I’ve never seen the city from up here before.” 

The air was colder up where they were, but the gentle sway of the branches to the wind set for them the perfect ambience to huddle close on that bench, sharing ice cream and whispering to each other. 

They talked about everything and nothing all at once, getting to know each other through stories of their daily life, tidbits and funny mishaps. The exhaustion of the day was starting to catch up with them, especially Wooyoung who could feel the drowsiness slowly creeping in, energy completely spent after all the dancing he did with Yunho. He tilted his head, leaning his body and letting it naturally fall on top of San’s sturdy shoulder. The man froze for a millisecond, then his shoulders relaxed and he extended his arm, wrapping it around Wooyoung and pulling him closer. 

“Earlier…” Wooyoung started, voice faint and interrupting the quiet. They had finished their ice cream a while ago, sitting in comfortable silence, simply watching the city lights and enjoying the cold breeze of late November. San hummed to signal that he was listening. “You said you knew me. That you saw me in class.”

San let out another non committal hum, though he turned his head ever so slightly, glancing at Wooyoung.

“Did you like me? Before all this?”

San sucked in a sharp breath. He probably didn’t expect the conversation to take such a turn. 

“Yes.” 

Wooyoung didn’t say anything else, just nodded. 

“You kept saying you wouldn’t touch the mint choco, but you actually kind of liked it, didn’t you?” San said, suddenly changing the subject.

The corners of Wooyoung’s lips twisted upwards, and though he refused to admit that San was right, he did in fact enjoy the taste. “It’s not that bad, I guess” he pursed his lips. An understatement and they both knew it. 

“Why didn’t you approach me? If you liked me?” Wooyoung asked, abruptly changing the subject yet again. He shifted away from San, raising his head and turning to face him properly.

San kept staring ahead, watching the empty streets, but something in his features softened, his brows dropping. 

“You’re just so… You.”

“Me?” repeated Wooyoung. 

“Beautiful,” San whispered easily, like that single word didn’t send a shiver up Wooyoung’s back, didn’t make his heart expand so much it felt like it was about to explode. He turned soft eyes to Wooyoung, and his gaze slowly traveled across Wooyoung’s face. First, his eyes. “You’re so kind, and friendly, and you’re always surrounded by people.” His eyes followed down the slope of his nose. “Everyone knows who you are, Jung Wooyoung. Really, all the girls always rave about you. The guys too, though they’re less loud about it.” Then his eyes stopped at the bow of his lips, just for a moment. “I thought, ‘If I go and talk to you, I might just be embarrassing myself’.”

Wooyoung felt out of breath. “I wouldn’t—”

“You wouldn’t be rude about it, I know. You’re too nice,” San cut him off, his eyes snapping back up to bore into Wooyoung’s. “But I haven’t seen you date anyone, so I figured I’d just be another person that you would turn down.”

Wooyoung stayed quiet, taking it all in. How long had San been watching him? It was true that he hadn’t dated in a while. Wooyoung liked to have fun, but deep down, he was a true romantic at heart, even if he would never admit it, not even to himself. He believed in a love so deep that it would last forever, and he always waited for that sort of connection, something electric, tangible and above all—real. 

Maybe it was San’s effect on him, or maybe his tongue just felt loose, mind too sleep-addled for his brain to mouth filter to work anymore, but Wooyoung admitted, “I couldn’t look away when I saw you earlier.”

San’s shoulder shook lightly, giggling quietly. “I know, I noticed. You weren’t exactly being subtle.”

Wooyoung felt warmth climb up his neck and heat his entire face. He was sure it showed on his face, but he didn’t mind, not with the way San’s own face was slowly turning redder by the second.

San’s eyes crinkled at the corners and he took Wooyoung’s hand, bringing it to his lap and intertwining their fingers. “I saw the way you looked at me and all I could think was, ‘God, have I just been really stupid this entire time?’” 

This time, Wooyoung burst out laughing, leaning heavily against him and soon, San’s laughter joined his, the dimples on his cheeks deepening with how wide his smile was. 

“Yes,” Wooyoung breathed out, voice full of mirth. 

When their laughter faded, San let out one last faint chuckle. His eyes met Wooyoung’s and the two shared a look. San’s eyes on his were heavy, soft and full of honesty. But there was something else. His eyes lingered, wanting, and Wooyoung felt that undeniable pull again. He let it guide him, what use was denying it when this whole night the only thing he had wanted was to have San in every way he could? It was clear they were both holding back just to treat this new thing budding between them gently, careful in their touches to not ruin something precious.

San leaned closer, breath fanning over Wooyoung’s face, mixing with his own. A hand came up to cradle Wooyoung’s cheek and he leaned into the touch, tilting his head.

“I’d like to stop being stupid and kiss you now.”

Wooyoung didn’t even let him finish his sentence before crossing the distance, pressing his lips to San’s, shutting him up. He felt the soft plush lips smiling against his own, and he could barely hold back his own smile, raising his own arm to wrap it around San’s neck and pull him harshly against him. A gasp escaped San, one hand landing on Wooyoung’s waist to hold himself upright, then he let out a small giggle and leaned in again, kissing Wooyoung properly this time, licking into his mouth and deepening the kiss, tasting of the ice cream that they were having. 

San was kissing him and it was neither needy nor hurried, rather, it was slow and confident, and it felt entirely right. 

Warmth filled Wooyoung from head to toe, feeling his own stomach curl in on itself and churning with want. He let his hands wander, one hand going up into those thick curls, threading through them, while the other hand landed on the broad chest, no longer holding back from exploring. It only spurred San on. 

Eventually they had to separate, and Wooyoung smiled at how debauched San looked, with his hair a mess and his lips red, swollen and spit slicken. San stared back at him with half lidded eyes, no doubt admiring his work on Wooyoung as well. Wooyoung wanted more, so much more, but he could tell that this is all they would get to do today. If they stayed here any longer, they would not be able to wake up for their classes later today. 

Finally, San’s eyes softened again, and he raised a hand, tucking Wooyoung’s hair behind his ear, then letting his hand gently trace down his face, until he reached Wooyoung’s lips, and he swiped his bottom lip with his thumb.

“Happy birthday Wooyoung,” he said softly.

Wooyoung laughed a little, then he bit down on his lower lip. San was unabashedly staring, and Wooyoung’s smile widened. “Technically, it’s not my birthday anymore, but thank you. This was the best birthday-slash-first-second date ever,” he whispered. “You’ve really set the bar high for the next dates.”

San’s eyes turned to crescents. “I’ll make sure the next one will be even better.”

“And the one after that,” Wooyoung hummed, before leaning forward and pecking San on the lips one more time.

San’s smile only widened. “And every one after,” he promised.