Work Text:
SUNDAY | 14:57
Wooyoung never thought he would end up trusting a recipe taken from an internet page dedicated to spells and love bindings, but there he was: on a quiet Sunday afternoon, baking cookies using a recipe that, at least on the surface, seemed fairly generic.
“‘Spill a tear caused by disappointment…’” he read out loud, raising an eyebrow. “Caused by disappointment? This is useless.”
He let out a huff and stepped away from the kitchen. He untied the apron—which was already more flour than fabric—and collapsed onto the couch, holding the bowl in his hands as if it were a pet that needed care. He rested it on his lap, staring at the half-mixed dough while thinking of a reasonable way to produce a tear. Maybe if he managed to remember something sad enough, the tear would fall exactly where it needed to: onto his future love cookie.
He was doing all of this for Mingi.
Mingi—the guy in their friend group who barely spoke to him beyond what was strictly necessary.
Wooyoung sighed and dropped his phone onto the coffee table.
“How are you supposed to cause disappointment on purpose?” he asked the air, leaning back against the couch.
The white ceiling didn’t answer. Neither did his usual visitor: a black cat that wasn’t even his, but the neighbor’s. The animal watched him from the armrest with a mix of disdain and judgment, as if it completely disapproved of his attempt at love magic. Sometimes it meowed for food; other times, it simply kept him company—silent and critical.
The apartment smelled like vanilla and failure.
He had tried everything to get Mingi’s attention: jokes, casual messages, small helpful gestures… he had even offered to help with his Choreographic Composition project, which he ended up doing alone because Mingi “didn’t understand tempos.” And still—nothing. Mingi continued treating him with that distracted, distant kindness reserved for pleasant but dispensable friends.
That was why he was there, at three in the afternoon, trying to bake a love spell.
He reread the line on the screen, frowning.
“Spill a tear caused by disappointment.”
Disappointment…
That, at least, he had plenty of—especially when it came to Mingi.
The memory of the last message he’d received from him pierced his thoughts like a needle:
“Woo, I might not be able to go tomorrow, I’m going to the movies with Hongjoong.”
There it was. A simple sentence that hurt more than it should have. Mingi’s attention always ended up with Hongjoong. Wooyoung envied him in silence, with a mix of helplessness and sadness. It was obvious there was something between them—one of those unspoken bonds that no one says out loud, but everyone notices.
He felt his throat tighten, a warm ache blooming in his chest. It only took a second: his eyes blurred, and before he could stop it, a tear slipped down his cheek and fell right into the bowl.
“Perfect,” he muttered with an ironic smile. “There you go, ‘LoveSpellsWithWitches.com.’ Hope you’re happy.”
He was officially talking to a very questionable website.
He stood up and tied his apron back on, resigned. At that point, he was already too deep into the madness to stop.
He slid the tray of cookies into the oven and watched through the glass as the heat slowly browned the dough. He felt a strange pride—a mix of anxiety and absurd hope—as if his entire fate depended on that cheap spell. While the clock ticked on, he began cleaning the mess he’d made in the kitchen: flour on the counter, sticky spoons, crumbs, and a cloud of sweet scent filling the air.
At 4:30 p.m., he was meeting his whole group of friends at the park. There were eight of them—college classmates who had met through the program and somehow formed a kind of improvised family. Everyone got along… especially Mingi and Hongjoong.
Wooyoung checked his reflection in the hallway mirror before leaving. He knew he was attractive—he’d never doubted that—but that afternoon he wanted to stand out. Not for everyone. Maybe not even for anyone else. Just for Mingi.
He left all the normal cookies on a tray, covered with a thin cloth to keep bugs away, and separately packed the special one: Mingi’s cookie, carefully decorated and wrapped in a small bag with a red ribbon.
It was absurd. It probably wouldn’t work. But deep down, Wooyoung held a faint hope that for once, magic would be on his side.
It was time.
Wooyoung was just about to reach the park when he spotted a large group of people from afar and immediately knew his friends were already there.
Being on time had never been his strong suit. It was 4:45 when he finally sat down on the large blanket spread over the grass.
“Sorry, I was baking them—they had to be perfect,” he said with a soft laugh, brushing imaginary flour off his hands.
Carefully, he pulled the special cookie out of his small bag. He looked at Mingi with a friendly smile as he lifted the transparent bag decorated with a bow.
“This one’s for you,” he said, offering it. “I made it just for you.”
The group had already started eating everything they’d brought for the picnic. There was a bit of everything: fruit, juice, empanadas, homemade cookies, sweets, and even a tart Seonghwa had made with near-military precision. Laughter and conversation filled the air beneath the warm afternoon sun.
No one seemed to notice that Mingi had a special portion—until San, sitting right next to Wooyoung, made a low comment dripping with playful mischief.
“Looks like Wooyoung has favorites,” he murmured, raising an eyebrow. His gaze was half amused, half mock-offended. “That’s unfair. I want to try it too.”
“But I didn’t make it for you, San. I don’t think you’d like it,” Wooyoung replied, already tired, trying to hide the bag behind his back.
“Come on, Woo, give it to him. I’m not hungry anyway,” Mingi intervened with complete indifference, barely looking up. He just wanted them to stop arguing.
San seized the moment of distraction and, with childish speed, snatched the cookie from Wooyoung’s hands.
“No, San!” Wooyoung shouted, alarmed, watching as San stuck out his tongue before taking the first bite.
The rest of the group turned toward them, surprised by the scene. No one understood why Wooyoung was so upset over something so small.
“Are you okay, Woo? What did you put in that cookie to get this worked up?” Yunho asked, genuinely concerned.
“No… nothing. It’s fine,” Wooyoung sighed, frustrated, glancing toward Mingi, who—as always—was focused on a conversation with Hongjoong, completely oblivious.
San finished the cookie happily, not noticing anything strange about the taste. He smiled, wiping crumbs from his lips, while Wooyoung stared at him with a mix of horror, resignation, and a vague sense that he had just made a monumental mistake.
The picnic went on normally: a group of friends chatting, laughing, and playing as the sun began to set. But Wooyoung was extremely tense. The cookie didn’t seem to be working; San looked just as lost in his own thoughts as usual.
But what if it did work? What would he do then?
His heart was lodged in his throat, pounding hard against his chest. Every laugh from San, every careless gesture, sent a quiet fear crawling up his spine.
When night fell, everyone dispersed—except San and Wooyoung, who walked together toward the park exit.
“Hey, San…” Wooyoung said, his voice trembling slightly. “Do you feel okay? Don’t you feel anything toward… me?”
San looked at him, incredulous and amused at the same time.
“What, like you put weed in the cookie or something?” he replied with a teasing smile. “It was just a normal cookie. I don’t know what went through your head saving it for Mingi. And I don’t feel anything for you—we’ve been friends for years. I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”
Wooyoung took a deep breath, swallowed the tension, and turned away without saying another word, leaving San completely confused.
In the end, it all seemed like a farce… an absurd attempt that had led to nothing.
MONDAY | 7:33
Wooyoung woke up to the sound of his alarm, just like any other morning. He got out of bed and headed to the kitchen to make breakfast, still half-asleep.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Wooyoung frowned slightly and went to open it.
His expression changed instantly—pure shock.
There stood San, holding a bouquet of flowers and wearing a smile that stretched ear to ear.
“Wooyoung!” San exclaimed enthusiastically. “I was dying to see you! We saw each other yesterday, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you for even a second… I brought you these flowers, as beautiful as you are, so you can start the day right.”
Wooyoung froze, his coffee cup trembling slightly in his hand as he processed the scene. Every word hit him like an unexpected wave.
“Stupid cookie!” he shouted before slamming the door in San’s face.
This couldn’t be happening… It had to be a dream—one of those he’d wake up from any second.
Right?
MONDAY | 13:21
No. It wasn’t a dream.
San was sitting beside Wooyoung during lunch. He had bought the food and was now trying to feed him, paying exaggerated attention to every detail in a way that left Wooyoung trapped between disbelief and frustration.
San had spent the entire morning glued to his side, telling him how much he liked him and how pretty he looked that day, as if he were incapable of stepping away for even a second.
Wooyoung was completely fed up. He couldn’t understand how someone who had always been cold and distant—someone who even teased his own friends as a form of “affection”—could suddenly become so… sweet and clingy.
The rest of the group watched the change in behavior in stunned silence, unaware that it was all the result of that cookie.
“My cute little baby~” San said, gently combing his fingers through Wooyoung’s hair, smiling with satisfaction.
Wooyoung looked at him, stunned and annoyed, eyebrow raised.
“I don’t get it… do you actually like me, or do you just want to treat me like a little kid?” he muttered, trying to stay calm.
Before Wooyoung could say anything else, San leaned in closer, as if he hadn’t heard a word.
“Treat you like a little kid?” he repeated with a mischievous smile. “But, Woo, you’re so adorable I can’t help it!”
Wooyoung swallowed hard and took a step back, his lunch tray shaking in his hands.
“San! Please, stop!” he exclaimed, half desperate, half amused. “This is too much…”
But San had no intention of stopping. With exaggerated slowness, he brought a piece of sushi toward Wooyoung’s mouth.
“Open up, my cute little one,” he insisted, like they were in a rom-com.
Wooyoung’s eyes went wide.
“What kind of cookie spell is this?” he thought, his heart racing as he awkwardly dodged the sushi.
“I’m not eating like that!” he shouted, though a traitorous laugh escaped him. “This is ridiculous!”
San just shrugged, as if the absurdity of the situation were completely normal.
“Ridiculous or not, I’m just loving you like crazy,” he said, pointing at himself. “From now until the day I die.”
Wooyoung collapsed into the chair, covering his face with his hands.
“How am I supposed to survive this until graduation?” he muttered, while San calmly stroked his arm, as if marking his emotional territory.
The rest of the group was in complete disbelief. Some laughed out of secondhand embarrassment, others stared in shock. Yunho, unable to hold back, blurted out:
“Woo! You can’t deny this is… epic!”
Wooyoung lifted his head and looked at San, who was gazing at him with sparkling eyes and a huge smile.
“Epic, yeah… sure,” he whispered with a laugh slipping through his teeth. “This… this can’t be real.”
San leaned in and whispered near his ear:
“But it is real, Woo. And I’m real… with you.”
Wooyoung’s heart pounded.
“Shut up,” he muttered.
And so the day went on—filled with nervous laughter, stolen food, and an overwhelming dose of affection—while Wooyoung desperately tried to figure out how to escape.
MONDAY | 22:15
Wooyoung’s phone was exploding with messages from San—telling him he missed him, that he wanted to sleep hugging him, that he was hopelessly in love with him.
Wooyoung was exhausted.
He turned off his phone and collapsed into bed.
SAN’S POV
MONDAY | 7:30
San woke up with a strange feeling.
It wasn’t hunger or tiredness. It was something deeper—a ridiculous warmth in his chest that made him smile for no reason.
He slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes, and the first thing that came to mind was a name: Wooyoung.
He blinked, confused.
“Wooyoung?” he whispered, tasting the name as if it were new.
Just saying it made his heart jump.
He tried to convince himself it was a coincidence, but there was no ignoring it. Every detail from the picnic the day before replayed in his mind with absurd clarity: the flour-stained apron, the nervous laugh, the way Wooyoung’s cheeks flushed when he got frustrated.
Wooyoung was… adorable. Painfully adorable.
San pressed a hand to his chest.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” he whispered, torn between confusion and horror.
But for some reason, the dizzy feeling felt good.
When he looked in the mirror before leaving, he smiled without realizing it. He had that stupid expression of someone who was hopelessly in love.
And even though he didn’t understand why, he decided not to fight it.
MONDAY | 8:00
He didn’t know how he’d ended up at a flower shop, but there he was, holding a bouquet of lilies and sunflowers with an enthusiasm that scared him a little.
“They’re perfect for him,” he murmured while paying. “Bright, sweet… just like Wooyoung.”
He walked to Wooyoung’s apartment without overthinking it, heart racing.
He rang the doorbell with a smile so wide his cheeks hurt.
The door opened.
Wooyoung appeared, messy-haired, coffee in hand, staring at him in fear and confusion.
“Wooyoung!” San exclaimed, holding out the flowers. “I was dying to see you! We saw each other yesterday, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you…”
He didn’t even finish before Wooyoung yelled something about a “stupid cookie” and slammed the door in his face.
San stood there for a few seconds, staring at the doorframe. Then he smiled serenely, like someone who had completely lost his mind.
“He’s mad at me…” he whispered. “He looks so cute when he’s angry.”
MONDAY | 13:30
He didn’t remember planning it, but there he was—sitting beside Wooyoung at lunch, as if that were his natural place in the world.
He had bought the food, arranged it by color, and now, shamelessly, was trying to feed him.
“My cute little baby~” he sang, running his fingers through Wooyoung’s hair with exaggerated tenderness.
And the most disturbing part was that it all felt perfectly logical.
Wooyoung looked at him, torn between disbelief and resignation, trying to set boundaries that San ignored with a lovesick smile.
“I don’t get it—do you like me, or do you just want to treat me like a little kid?” Wooyoung muttered.
San leaned closer, smiling softly.
“A little kid? Woo… you’re my reason for existing.”
Yunho nearly choked on his drink. Hongjoong stared like he was witnessing a miracle.
San, however, remained completely absorbed in his own universe, watching every tiny gesture of Wooyoung as if he were a living work of art.
When Wooyoung gently pushed him away, red with embarrassment, San just laughed.
“Aww, Woo, when you blush you look even prettier.”
It was official: he’d lost his mind.
And the worst part… he loved it.
MONDAY | 22:15
San lay on his bed, phone resting on his chest, wearing a stupid grin he couldn’t erase.
He’d spent the entire day with Wooyoung, but it still wasn’t enough.
“I miss you.” “Are you awake?” “I want to sleep hugging you.” “I promise I’ll dream about you, pretty.”
Each message was more sickeningly sweet than the last, but San couldn’t stop. He felt a desperate need to say everything—to make sure Wooyoung knew how much he loved him, even if he didn’t understand why.
He rolled onto his pillow, sighing.
“Is this love… or some kind of madness?” he wondered, staring at the ceiling.
Silence.
Only the sound of his heart beating fast, as if repeating Wooyoung’s name over and over.
And though he didn’t know exactly what had happened since that picnic, he was sure of one thing:
There was no way this was just a passing whim.
He closed his eyes, hugging the pillow with a silly smile.
“Tomorrow I’ll see him again,” he whispered. “My beautiful disaster.”
TUESDAY | 8:30
San stood once again in front of Wooyoung’s apartment door.
This time he carried a more delicate bouquet—lilacs and daisies, carefully arranged. He knew Wooyoung probably wouldn’t open the door, but he had gone anyway. He couldn’t not go.
He knocked softly. Waited.
And to his surprise, the door flew open.
Before he could say a word, Wooyoung grabbed him by the arm and dragged him inside, slamming the door shut.
San barely had time to react before being pushed onto the couch, smiling dreamily, as if floating.
Wooyoung, on the other hand, looked completely exasperated.
“San, listen to me very clearly,” he said, arms crossed. “You yourself said you didn’t see me as anything more than a friend. Remember that.”
San looked at him with unsettling calm, as if every word were a lullaby.
“Well… people change,” he replied softly. “And now I see my whole life by your side, Woo.”
Wooyoung snorted in disbelief. “Pf… you’re impossible. You’re completely bewitched.”
San tilted his head, leaning a little closer. “Yeah—by your eyes. You have the prettiest eyes in the world. Has anyone told you that?”
The comment caught Wooyoung completely off guard. He tried to stay composed, but the blush creeping onto his cheeks betrayed him.
For a moment, the air between them stilled. Spell or not, there was something so genuinely tender in San’s voice that it was hard to stay angry.
The first day had been chaotic—San following him everywhere, talking nonstop, praising him endlessly. But that morning, something felt different.
Still sweet… but less overwhelming.
And strangely, Wooyoung found him easier to tolerate.
“Have you eaten yet?” San asked brightly.
Wooyoung shook his head.
“Then let me make you breakfast, my prince,” San said with an exaggerated bow.
Before Wooyoung could stop him, San handed him the flowers, leaned in to kiss his forehead softly, and headed for the kitchen as if it were his own home.
Wooyoung watched from the couch, flowers in hand, his expression hovering between disbelief and a barely contained smile.
Maybe… just maybe, the spell wasn’t so bad after all.
San hummed while stirring something in the pan. He didn’t exactly know what he was cooking, but he was convinced it would turn out fine.
He had learned that when you do things while thinking about someone you love, everything tastes better. And right now, all he could think about was Wooyoung.
The apartment smelled like butter, fresh coffee, and… flowers. The same ones he’d placed in a vase on the table. San smiled proudly. “He likes lilac. I think. Or maybe dark purple… Well, whatever—both are pretty.”
Wooyoung wandered into the kitchen, hair still messy, expression caught between curiosity and resignation.
“What are you doing now?” he asked, rubbing his eyes after washing his face.
“Pancakes for my favorite person,” San replied without hesitation.
Wooyoung paused, letting out a sigh that sounded suspiciously like surrender.
“San, you don’t have to come every morning.”
“I don’t have to,” San said, flashing a smile so bright it felt like an attack. “But I want to.”
San served him heart-shaped pancakes—very imperfect ones—but drenched in honey and fruit, making them undeniably cute.
Wooyoung sat down, stared at them, then laughed softly.
“If someone told me the guy who used to tease me nonstop would one day cook me breakfast… I’d think he hit his head.”
San feigned offense.
“I did not hit my head! I just opened my eyes. And realized you’re perfect!”
Wooyoung rolled his eyes, though the blush on his cheeks betrayed him.
“I’m not perfect, San. And not long ago you said you weren’t interested in anyone.”
San shrugged.
“Guess I just wasn’t looking properly. Or maybe it took me time to realize what I felt.”
The sincerity in his voice left Wooyoung silent. He knew it was all fake—and that knowledge made his chest ache.
He knew no one would ever love him with such purity.
Part of him wanted to explain everything: the cookie, the spell, the reason behind San’s sudden feelings.
But seeing him like that—so convinced, so gentle, so genuinely happy—made him hesitate.
“What’s wrong?” San asked, leaning a little closer.
“Nothing…” Wooyoung replied, fiddling with his fork. “I was just thinking that… one of these days, you’ll wake up and realize all of this is crazy.”
San looked confused.
“Crazy? No, Woo. I’ve never been more sane.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I do. Because right now, seeing you smile makes the most sense in the world.”
Wooyoung lowered his gaze, hiding a smile. “Charming idiot,” he thought.
And as San kept talking—excited, gesturing, spilling a little coffee without noticing—Wooyoung watched him in silence.
Maybe the spell would break at the end of the day. But for now, he didn’t want anything to change.
TUESDAY | 15:49
San and Wooyoung went to their dance classes together.
Seonghwa saw them walk into the building and nearly choked on his water bottle.
First, because San had arrived on time—something not even miracles could achieve. Second, because he was carrying two coffees.
“One for my muse,” San said, proudly offering one to Wooyoung.
“I’m not your muse, San,” Wooyoung said, accepting it anyway, trying to ignore the curious looks. “And they didn’t even spell my name right—it says ‘Wonyoung.’”
“Cashier’s an idiot, I’ll just cross it out and write it again,” San replied confidently, making Seonghwa look away so he wouldn’t laugh.
The instructor entered the studio, clapped to get attention, and turned on the music.
It was contemporary day—meaning improvisation, floor work, contact…
Exactly what Wooyoung didn’t need with San around.
“Pair up, please,” the instructor announced.
San didn’t hesitate for even half a second.
“Wooyoung and me!” he shouted, hand raised.
Wooyoung shot him a glare.
“San, could you vary it a bit? There are fifty people here.”
“No. I’m committed to my art… and to you.”
Laughter rippled through the room.
Hongjoong muttered to Mingi from the back: “This is either going to end in a hospital or a wedding. No middle ground.”
The music started.
Wooyoung moved with his usual elegance—light, controlled—while San followed him as if under a spell.
There was no movement San didn’t adapt just to touch his hand or spin a little too close.
“San, that’s not part of the exercise,” Wooyoung whispered when San lifted him without warning.
“Emotional improvisation,” San replied seriously as he set him down. “The moment called for it.”
Wooyoung sighed.
The rest of the group didn’t know whether to applaud or call an ambulance—there was a real chance Wooyoung might snap.
When class ended, Seonghwa approached, clearly curious.
“San… did something happen to you? You’re… different.”
“Different how?” San asked, still watching Wooyoung pack his things.
“I don’t know—less annoying, more ‘in love with the universe’… or with a specific person.”
San smiled calmly.
“Maybe I finally found my inspiration.”
Wooyoung blushed.
For a moment, he thought the light in San’s eyes didn’t look so fake—or so enchanted.
Maybe the spell was still working… Or maybe something else had begun to grow beneath all that madness.
On the way home, San insisted on carrying his backpack. Wooyoung, too tired to argue, let him.
As they walked, Wooyoung thought that maybe—when the spell finally broke—he would miss this silly, affectionate version of San.
He really was charming.
WEDNESDAY | 8:02
San knocked on Wooyoung’s apartment door with the same gentleness as the days before. In his hands was another bouquet—smaller, simpler, but just as carefully chosen.
It had already become a habit, an involuntary routine his heart followed without question.
He waited. Nothing.
Maybe he was still asleep, San thought—until his phone buzzed.
“My back hurts too much to get up >< there’s a key under the mat”
San smiled softly and sighed. He crouched down, grabbed the key, and opened the door carefully, as if afraid of breaking the calm inside.
The familiar scent of vanilla greeted him—the same one from that afternoon of cookies—and something inside him felt at home.
He placed the flowers on the table and walked toward the bedroom.
Wooyoung lay face-down, tangled in the sheets, hair falling over his forehead. San smiled helplessly.
“Good morning, my prince,” he whispered from the doorway. “I brought you new flowers… may I come in?”
“Hi, Sannie~” Wooyoung replied sleepily, stretching lazily. “Come, sit.”
He patted the bed beside him. San sat carefully on the edge, trying not to look nervous.
“Do you want a massage? Or medicine? I’ll do whatever it takes so you don’t have to move a finger.”
“A massage would be nice…” Wooyoung murmured as he turned over, casually pulling off his shirt. “I wanted to talk to you, San. About… your feelings.”
San froze for a second, hands hovering before touching his skin.
“Oh…” he said slowly. “I guess I was too intense on Monday. It was like a sudden attack of love. I still feel it, but I don’t want to scare you anymore. I want to take it slow. I want to respect your boundaries.”
His fingers began to move carefully along Wooyoung’s back, slow, almost therapeutic. The room was quiet, filled only with their breathing.
“Sannie…” Wooyoung murmured after a moment. “I think… I like you being a little intense. It caught me off guard, and I didn’t know how to react, but…” He let out a soft laugh. “I can be clingy too.”
San stopped for a second, hands still resting on his back.
Part of him wanted to joke. Another part just wanted to stay silent and enjoy the moment. In the end, he smiled and lowered his voice.
“Then maybe I’m not as crazy as I thought.”
Wooyoung turned his head slightly to look at him, finding a warmth in San’s eyes that didn’t feel forced by any spell.
There was tenderness there. Care. Something that hurt to recognize as possible.
For the first time since everything began, Wooyoung allowed himself to think that maybe there was something real beneath it all.
San continued massaging his back with that mix of clumsiness and devotion that only he could have.
“I told you, Woo…” he whispered softly. “I’ll do everything so you don’t have to move a finger.”
Wooyoung laughed quietly, hiding his blush in the pillow.
WEDNESDAY | 12:36
After spending the morning with Wooyoung, San went to class, then asked if he could return to help while Wooyoung recovered.
The apartment filled with the smell of lunch. San had cooked something simple but thoughtful: rice with sautéed vegetables, lightly seasoned chicken, and a bit of fresh salad. Nothing fancy—just food made with care.
“I didn’t know you could cook like this,” Wooyoung said, leaning against the counter as he watched San plate the food.
“It’s nothing special,” San replied naturally. “I just wanted to make sure you ate something good and healthy.”
Wooyoung sighed—half annoyed, half fond. “Well… I can’t argue with that.”
They sat together, San relaxed and calm, without exaggerated gestures or dramatic words. He seemed content just being there, caring for Wooyoung as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Want more rice?” San asked, serving him another portion.
“Yes, thanks,” Wooyoung replied with a small smile.
As they ate, San talked about simple things: dance class, the music they’d practiced to, little stories about classmates. He spoke calmly, gently—unaware that Wooyoung was watching him closely.
Even without the earlier intensity, San was still attentive and kind. Every detail felt spontaneous and genuine, and it stirred something warm inside Wooyoung—something he hadn’t expected.
“You know…” Wooyoung murmured softly. “Sometimes it’s nice when someone cares like this.”
San looked up and smiled, as if it were obvious.
“Well, I like seeing you okay. And I like being with you.”
Wooyoung looked away, smiling to himself. For the first time since it all began, he realized that maybe the reason didn’t matter—he genuinely enjoyed being close to San, and that was enough.
WEDNESDAY | 21:47
The afternoon slipped by without either of them noticing. The lights in the apartment dimmed as they set up the living room to watch a movie.
Wooyoung curled up on the couch, surrounded by cushions, a blanket over his legs. San sat beside him, quiet, with a calm presence that made everything feel safe.
“What do you want to watch?” Wooyoung asked casually as he scrolled.
“Whatever you want,” San replied, leaning slightly closer. “As long as I’m with you, anything’s fine.”
Heat crept up Wooyoung’s cheeks. This wasn’t the dramatic San from earlier days—it was just San, beside him, attentive and present. The whole day had been like that, and it was impossible not to feel protected by this enchanted man.
The movie started, but Wooyoung kept glancing sideways at San. The way he rested his arm along the back of the couch, how he adjusted the blanket to cover him better—it all felt natural, yet deeply sincere.
“Sannie…” Wooyoung whispered after a while, resting his head on San’s shoulder. “Thanks for being here.”
San smiled softly and said nothing, letting the contact speak. Slowly, exhaustion crept in. Wooyoung’s eyelids grew heavy, and without realizing it, he shifted closer, resting his head against San’s chest.
San wrapped an arm around him instinctively and pulled the blanket snug around them.
“Rest, Woo,” he whispered. “My precious little one~”
The movie blended with the sound of San’s steady breathing. Wooyoung closed his eyes, feeling—for the first time in a long while—completely at ease.
They stayed like that, silent, sharing a quiet warmth until sleep claimed them. Wooyoung dreamed of San smiling, and San simply dreamed—unaware that what he felt was stronger than he’d ever imagined.
That night, for the first time since it all began, they both felt at home—together, without needing words.
THURSDAY | 8:15
Sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, painting warm lines across the tangled sheets. Wooyoung opened his eyes slowly and felt San’s warmth beside him.
No words—just the sound of steady breathing and the gentle touch of intertwined arms. Wooyoung blinked, processing it: he hadn’t woken up alone.
“Good morning…” he whispered, voice rough with sleep.
“Mmm… good morning, my cute little one,” San replied sleepily, smiling as he hugged him closer.
Wooyoung smiled too. His heart raced, yet the closeness felt incredibly calming.
He shifted slightly, resting his head on San’s chest, breathing in the familiar scent that comforted him. San, eyes still closed, wrapped an arm around his waist and traced gentle circles along his back.
“Did you sleep well?” San asked quietly.
“Yes… better than ever,” Wooyoung murmured. “With you close, everything’s easier.”
San opened one eye and looked at him with that same calm. “I’m glad… because I like taking care of you.”
Wooyoung closed his eyes again, savoring the moment. No cookies. No spells. No exaggerations. Just the two of them, sharing a quiet morning where affection was enough.
Time moved on, but for a moment, the world stood still. Wooyoung sighed contentedly and snuggled closer while San held him as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Waking up had never felt so easy.
THURSDAY | 16:42
The afternoon was peaceful in Wooyoung’s apartment. They lounged together on the couch under the shared blanket, staring at the ceiling and whispering about nothing.
Until a knock shattered their bubble.
“Woo! San!” Yunho exclaimed as he walked in, followed by Seonghwa and Hongjoong. “Where the hell were you all day?”
Wooyoung sat up, trying to look serious while San stayed seated, looking innocently confused.
“Uh… we had personal matters,” Wooyoung muttered as the others crossed their arms.
“Personal matters?” Hongjoong echoed skeptically. “Don’t tell me you stayed in bed again.”
“More or less,” Wooyoung admitted. “We needed rest.”
San shrugged calmly. “Yeah, we needed a break… and we spent time together.”
Wooyoung felt his face heat up.
“You’re impossible!” Seonghwa laughed. “Two grown adults skipping class for this?”
“Hey,” San said calmly. “It’s not a big deal. We just took a moment for ourselves.”
“Moments together!” Yunho laughed. “While we suffer in class, you enjoy the couch and blanket!”
Wooyoung sighed, embarrassed but amused. “Yes, okay—we took a day off. But we’ll be back tomorrow.”
“I hope so,” Hongjoong chuckled.
San leaned back down, resting his head on Wooyoung’s shoulder.
“Well… it was a good day,” he said softly.
Wooyoung smiled, unable to be upset. “Yeah… it was.”
FRIDAY | 16:18
The afternoon passed like any other for San. Between dance classes, stretching, and small errands, he carried a few delicate flowers—bought without a special reason, simply because he liked seeing Wooyoung smile when he received them. Nothing out of the ordinary for him—just a natural way of showing care.
The minutes passed quickly, and before he realized it, the golden light of sunset was beginning to filter through the windows of San’s apartment.
"Hm… I think now’s a good moment," he murmured to himself as he picked up his phone.
He called Wooyoung, who answered almost instantly, still adjusting the final choreography practice of the week.
"Hey, Woo…" San said, a smile already evident even through the phone. "I was thinking… how about we go out tonight?"
Wooyoung fell silent for a few seconds, surprised.
"Go out?" he asked, trying not to sound too enthusiastic. "Where to?"
"It doesn’t matter where," San replied naturally. "I just want to spend time with you. Eat something, walk around a bit… you know, enjoy the night together."
Wooyoung smiled, feeling his heart pick up speed, though he kept his tone calm.
"Alright… sounds good. I’ll see you tonight, then."
San hung up with a soft smile, completely relaxed.
There were no nerves or dramatics, just a simple, direct invitation, as if going out with Wooyoung was the most natural thing in the world.
That night promised to be calm, but special.
FRIDAY | 20:30
San arrived right on time, wearing his usual smile and holding a small bouquet of wildflowers—simple, yet charming.
"Hi, Woo," he said, setting the bouquet aside while Wooyoung looked at him with a mix of surprise and tenderness. "Ready for our little nighttime adventure?"
"Yeah… yeah, sure," Wooyoung replied, adjusting his jacket, trying not to show how nervous he was. "Where are we going first?"
"Surprise," San answered, shrugging as he extended his arm for Wooyoung to take. "Just trust me."
They walked together through streets lit by lampposts, the cool night air brushing against their faces. San spoke calmly, sharing small anecdotes from the week and funny moments from their dance classes. Wooyoung listened attentively, laughing at the right moments, enjoying the company.
After dinner, they stopped in front of a small ice cream shop San had noticed days earlier and thought would be nice to visit with Wooyoung.
"Do you want ice cream?" he asked, looking at the menu casually.
"Yes, please," Wooyoung said with a smile as San placed the order. "You choose—I trust your taste."
San ordered two different cones, and as they continued walking under the city lights, he carefully offered Wooyoung a few bites. Every gesture was natural and gentle; Wooyoung could barely contain his smile every time their hands brushed accidentally.
"You know…" Wooyoung said while chewing, "this is really nice."
San glanced at him, smiling softly.
"I’m glad you think so. I just wanted to have a good time with you."
They kept walking, sometimes in silence, simply enjoying the sound of their footsteps and the night breeze. San took Wooyoung’s hand without saying anything, and Wooyoung didn’t pull away, letting himself be carried by the calm of the moment.
"It’s a good night," Wooyoung whispered, leaning a little closer. "Thanks for inviting me."
"Always," San replied serenely. "With you, anything is good."
That night, among city lights and quiet laughter, Wooyoung began to realize something: maybe his attraction to San was becoming genuine, and enjoying his company no longer depended on any cookie…
But there was still that small thorn in his chest, whispering that once the spell wore off, San would return to being as cold as he used to be.
FRIDAY | 23:02
They decided to sit on a bench facing the river. The city lights reflected on the water, creating a calm, almost magical atmosphere. They talked about childhood anecdotes, sharing memories with sincerity and laughing over details that only they understood.
San noticed that Wooyoung loved to talk, and that fascinated him. Listening to him attentively, genuinely interested in every word, had become a small passion of his.
Wooyoung, for his part, tried to be a little more affectionate. He brushed San’s hands every now and then and fixed his hair when the wind messed it up. Each gesture was subtle, yet full of affection.
"My prince…" San said softly, taking Wooyoung’s hands in his. "You’re so precious that I can’t understand how you were always single."
Wooyoung smiled, a little shy.
"I think I should tell you the truth… I liked Mingi, and I was so absorbed in trying to get his attention that I started ignoring everyone else."
"And… do you still like him?" San asked, with genuine curiosity, without a hint of judgment.
"No… I don’t think so," Wooyoung admitted, looking down at their intertwined hands. "Someone else started to catch my attention."
San raised an eyebrow and smiled mischievously.
"Could it be that someone is me?"
"Maybe…" Wooyoung said, a small smile playing on his lips. "You’ll never know."
San laughed softly at Wooyoung’s playful attitude.
They kept talking for a while longer, until they naturally began to move closer to each other, using the cold as an excuse to seek the other’s arms. Wooyoung leaned slightly against San’s shoulder, and San wrapped an arm around his waist, enjoying the warmth they shared.
Finally, San gathered all the courage he could and, with a mix of tenderness and determination, cupped Wooyoung’s cheeks in his hands and kissed him.
The kiss was perfect, as if they had both been longing for that moment all along, and the connection they had been building felt more intense than ever.
There was no turning back.
As San stayed close to him, still smiling softly, Wooyoung felt a whirlwind of emotions in his chest. His heart was racing, but something in his mind screamed that all of this was happening too fast—too perfect to be real.
"This can’t be real…" he thought, his hands trembling slightly as they intertwined with San’s. "It’s just the effect of the cookie… I can’t like him like this… it can’t really be him."
He tried to replay the sequence of the past few days: the constant messages, the exaggerated gestures, the hugs, and that kiss… Everything felt genuine, but his mind insisted on clinging to the most logical explanation: the spell.
"I can’t… I can’t let this make me feel something real. Not now, not like this…" he told himself. Every smile from San, every tender look, every brush of their hands slowly disarmed him, and still Wooyoung held onto the idea that it was all a lie.
And yet, as San held him calmly and gently, something inside him rebelled against the doubt. His instincts told him that the way San looked at him, cared for him, and made him feel safe was far too natural to be fake.
Wooyoung closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, trying to convince himself that all of this was just an illusion, a fantasy created by the cookie. But the warmth of San against him, his soft laughter, and the familiar scent surrounding him reminded him that maybe his heart couldn’t be fooled so easily.
"Damn cookie… or whatever it is… I can’t stop feeling this…" he murmured to himself, unconsciously tightening his grip on San’s hands.
And even though he wanted to resist, a persistent thought slipped into his mind: What if… this feels so real precisely because it is real?
Wooyoung remained there, caught between disbelief and desire, while San kept smiling at him, completely unaware of the storm raging inside him.
SATURDAY | 10:18
Wooyoung slowly opened his eyes and was greeted by the soft morning light filtering through the curtains of San’s apartment. Still lying in the same bed, San was half asleep, one arm resting on Wooyoung’s waist and the other stretched across the pillow, his breathing calm and steady.
"Good morning, my prince," San murmured, barely opening his eyes. "Did you sleep well?"
"Yeah…" Wooyoung replied, stretching a little and adjusting himself to look at him. "Sleeping with you is… different."
San chuckled softly, moving a bit closer, brushing his forehead against Wooyoung’s.
"I like it too…" he whispered. "There’s no rush—we can stay like this a little longer."
Wooyoung rested his head on San’s chest, enjoying the warmth and closeness. The apartment was quiet, save for the distant sound of cars and birds outside, creating a sense of absolute calm.
They got up slowly after a while, sharing simple gestures: San handed Wooyoung one of his shirts, and Wooyoung passed him his toothbrush. Everything felt routine, but carried a mutual care that spoke of comfort and trust.
"Do you want breakfast?" San asked as he opened the window to let some fresh air in. "We can go out for coffee or stay here and make something."
"I’d rather stay here," Wooyoung replied with a smile as he sat in the kitchen with San. "There’s no rush, and… well, I like watching you."
They prepared a simple breakfast together, laughing and brushing hands occasionally, enjoying the calm of the morning without needing grand words or gestures. The closeness felt natural, everyday, and both seemed genuinely content.
"You look really focused," Wooyoung commented as San beat the eggs. "I like seeing you like this—calm."
San looked up and gave him the warmest smile Wooyoung had seen yet.
"And I like that you notice those things," he said, leaning in to place a quick kiss on Wooyoung’s lips. "It makes everything more intimate."
The morning passed like that—coffee, toast, and quiet laughter—carrying the feeling that they could stay there forever, in that shared space, without anything else mattering.
SATURDAY | 23:59
San’s apartment was filled with their breaths and soft sounds, lit only by the warm glow of the bedside lamp. They lay in bed, still holding each other, bodies pressed close, breathing uneven from what they had just shared.
Wooyoung rested his head on San’s chest, listening to the steady heartbeat beneath his ear, letting a wave of calm wash over him. Their fingers intertwined, brushing gently, as if prolonging the connection they had just experienced.
San held him tighter, as if making sure Wooyoung wouldn’t drift away even for a second. His face rested close, and every small gesture—from fixing Wooyoung’s hair to lightly stroking his arm—spoke of care and tenderness.
"I’ve never…" Wooyoung whispered softly, voice low and breathless. "I’ve never felt anything like this."
San looked at him with a warm smile, resting his forehead against Wooyoung’s as he whispered back:
"Me neither… but with you… everything feels right… perfect."
They stayed like that for a long while, wrapped in silence, enjoying the closeness that only comes after sharing something so intimate. Words weren’t necessary; the warmth of their bodies, the softness of their hands, and their shared breathing said everything.
Wooyoung shifted slightly, resting his cheek against San’s chest and closing his eyes, letting himself slowly drift. San, still holding him, gently traced circles along his back, savoring every second, making sure Wooyoung felt safe and calm.
"Mmm…" Wooyoung murmured with a faint smile. "This… this is good…"
San responded with a small nod, resting his forehead against Wooyoung’s again and gently tightening his hold around his waist. Every movement was slow and careful, full of the complicity they had built over the past days, and the sense of belonging they were beginning to accept.
Eventually, the silence became comfortable, almost sacred. The sounds of the city faded into the background, and they focused solely on staying close, on stretching that moment without hurry or interruption.
Wooyoung sighed softly, letting his body fully relax, and San, with a barely noticeable smile, pulled him even closer, savoring the peace that followed such a deep connection.
For the first time, they could simply be—without masks, without pretenses—just together in silence, knowing they had created something that went beyond any spell or circumstance.
SUNDAY | 10:07
Morning light filtered gently through the window, bathing San’s apartment in warmth. Wooyoung opened his eyes and smiled at the sight of San beside him, stretching lazily.
"Good morning…" Wooyoung whispered, brushing his shoulder with a light touch.
"Good morning, my prince," San replied with a smile, completely unbothered by Wooyoung’s messy hair or how disheveled they looked. He felt comfortable—completely comfortable.
After some soft laughter and lingering hugs, they went to the bathroom to shower together. There was no shame or awkwardness; their movements were easy and natural. Wooyoung helped rinse San’s hair, San handed him the towel, and between small jokes and laughter, they moved with the familiarity of people who knew each other’s every gesture.
"I can’t believe how comfortable you are with me," Wooyoung laughed as San handed him the soap.
"I trust you," San replied with a playful wink. "And you should trust me too—always."
They finished showering, clumsily drying off and laughing as they bumped into each other, sharing knowing looks. Every touch was an extension of the closeness they had built.
Wrapped in towels, still smiling and holding hands, they walked back to the kitchen to prepare a light breakfast, feeling like the morning belonged entirely to them.
Wooyoung, sipping his coffee, couldn’t help but look at San and smile.
"You’re amazing, you know that?"
San chuckled softly and hugged him from behind.
"And you are too, my adorable little disaster."
The morning passed with simple gestures, soft laughter, and the certainty that they could be completely themselves—no pretenses, no secrets—just enjoying what they had together.
SUNDAY | 13:15
They sat at the kitchen table with a simple lunch in front of them. Midday light streamed through the window, highlighting the warmth of the apartment and the food.
"I think…" Wooyoung began, fiddling with his utensils and avoiding San’s gaze, "we should talk about some important things."
San looked up, curious, his smile calm.
"Yeah… I know," he said. "I’ve been thinking the same. No rush, but it’s better not to let things pile up."
Wooyoung took a deep breath.
"Maybe… we could go for a walk this afternoon. Get some air… talk calmly, without anyone bothering us."
San nodded, gently placing his hand over Wooyoung’s.
"That sounds perfect," he said warmly. "Just us, no rush—time for us."
They stayed silent for a moment, enjoying the closeness of their intertwined hands. There were things to talk about, but they knew the afternoon would be theirs.
"So… this afternoon will be our moment," Wooyoung murmured with a shy smile.
"Yeah," San replied. "And I promise it’ll be nice… and calm, just the way we like it."
SUNDAY | 17:42
The afternoon sun fell softly over the park where Wooyoung and San were walking, their steps slow and relaxed, letting the wind play with their hair. They had both decided that this walk would be their moment to talk about everything, without distractions or interruptions.
Wooyoung took a deep breath, turning slightly toward San.
"I have to tell you something… something important," he said in a low voice, almost hesitant.
San looked at him attentively, holding his gaze as they walked side by side.
"Of course, Woo. Whatever it is, tell me."
Wooyoung stopped for a moment, clasping his hands together to steady himself.
"All of this… the way you started to… act so strange around me… how you changed so suddenly…" he paused and sighed. "It was because of a cookie. A cookie I made with a spell… to make someone fall in love."
San raised an eyebrow, surprised, but without showing disbelief. His expression remained calm, curious, and expectant.
"A cookie?" he asked softly. "Explain everything to me, please."
Wooyoung began to tell him everything from the beginning, in detail: how he had found the recipe on that website dedicated to spells and love charms, how he had tried to provoke a tear of disappointment for the dough, how he had baked each cookie and set aside the special one for Mingi, how San had gotten ahead of him and eaten it, and how after that he had noticed all the changes in San’s attitude. Every word was filled with nervousness, with fear that San might judge him or laugh at him.
San listened carefully, nodding as Wooyoung spoke, letting every sentence sink in. There were no interruptions, no rushed comments—just a silence full of attention and calm that accompanied the confession.
When Wooyoung finished, he took a deep breath, bracing himself for a negative reaction, a sarcastic comment, anything that would show he had ruined everything.
But San smiled softly, taking Wooyoung’s hand in his.
"Woo…" he said, completely calm. "I realized it from the very beginning. From the moment I ate that cookie, I noticed something strange… something different in myself. But the real effect… ended on Wednesday. By then, there was no spell forcing me to feel anything."
Wooyoung looked at him, incredulous, his heart pounding wildly.
"What do you mean the spell ended?" he asked in a thin voice.
San gently squeezed his hand, looking into his eyes with complete sincerity.
"I mean that… since Wednesday, everything I felt for you was no longer because of the cookie. The effect was gone, and even so… I kept feeling exactly the same. I had truly fallen in love with you, Woo. There was no magic behind it—just me, wanting to be with you, wanting to take care of you, wanting… wanting everything we’ve shared."
Wooyoung felt a knot loosen in his chest, mixed with relief and a happiness that burned inside him. Everything he had feared, everything he had thought was a mistake or an illusion, was turning into something real and tangible.
"So… all of this," he said, gesturing to their closeness, the hugs, the affectionate gestures of the past few days, "wasn’t because of the cookie. It was… you."
"Exactly," San nodded, smiling with that warmth that always took his breath away. "From the first day I looked at you like that—even before all of this—something in me changed. The cookie just sped up what was already there."
Wooyoung swallowed, trying to take in every word.
"I don’t know if I can…" he started, with a shy smile. "I don’t know if I can believe that all of this is real."
San leaned closer and cupped Wooyoung’s face in his hands, gently pressing a calm kiss to his lips.
"It’s real, Woo. Everything you feel, everything we’ve shared… there’s no magic, no trick. Just me."
Wooyoung took a deep breath, feeling days of tension finally dissolve. His eyes filled with small tears—not of sadness or fear, but of relief and pure happiness.
"San… I… I feel the same…" he began in a soft voice. "I like you… I really like you."
San smiled, resting their foreheads together and tightly intertwining their fingers.
"Then we’re on the same page," he whispered. "And it doesn’t matter what day of the week it is, or which cookie brought us here… now all that matters is that we’re together."
They stayed like that, embraced in the middle of the park, letting the afternoon sun wrap around them as they shared that moment of absolute sincerity and love. Everything from before—the spell, the nerves, the fear—had been left behind, replaced by something true, personal, and completely theirs.
FRIDAY | 19:27
The afternoon sun filtered through the trees, painting the park in warm, golden tones. San and Wooyoung walked together in silence, enjoying the fresh air and each other’s company. It had been almost three months since everything had begun, and every small gesture, every glance, every shared laugh had strengthened what they felt.
San stopped in the middle of the path and took Wooyoung’s hands in his, gently intertwining their fingers. He looked into his eyes—those eyes that had completely claimed him from the very first day.
"Woo…" he said softly, his voice almost trembling with emotion. "We’ve been through so many things together… laughter, silly arguments, endless walks… and I don’t want this to keep being just… us as friends."
Wooyoung took a deep breath, feeling his heart race at the intensity of the moment. He lifted his gaze to meet San’s, and for an instant, everything else disappeared: the park, the sun, even the wind moving their hair. There was only the two of them.
"San… I… I’ve been thinking about that too," Wooyoung whispered, a shy smile forming on his lips as his cheeks flushed slightly.
San took a small step closer, closing the distance, and gently placed his hands on Wooyoung’s cheeks. His thumbs brushed over the warm skin, and Wooyoung couldn’t help but close his eyes for a moment, letting himself be carried by the closeness.
"Then…" San spoke in a thread of a voice, heavy with tenderness. "Woo… can I be your boyfriend?"
Wooyoung slowly opened his eyes, meeting San’s intense and sweet gaze, so full of sincerity and love that it sent shivers through him. His lips curved into a smile that needed no words.
"Yes…" he said, his voice breaking with emotion. "Yes, I want you to be my boyfriend, San."
A flash of happiness lit up San’s face, and without waiting any longer, he pulled him into a long, warm embrace. Wooyoung rested his forehead against San’s, breathing deeply and letting his heart burst with joy.
San lowered his gaze and placed a soft, slow, delicate kiss on Wooyoung’s lips, letting every second feel eternal. Wooyoung kissed him back, wrapping his arms around San’s neck, holding him with strength and tenderness.
"I promise I’ll be the best boyfriend in the world… always," San whispered against his lips.
"And I promise I’ll always be by your side…" Wooyoung replied, his eyes shining. "No matter what happens."
They stayed like that, looking at each other, smiling, their foreheads touching, letting the sunset wrap around them. Every shared breath, every brush of hands, every silent smile confirmed that what they felt was real, deep, and theirs.
At last, after everything, they could say it with certainty: they were together, in love, and nothing could change that.