Archive of Our Own

The air was filled with the scent of fresh leaves and apples. 

Wooyoung walked alongside Yunho, backpacks sitting heavy on their shoulders, the sun casting its last rays of light for the day.

“One last exam,” Wooyoung said, nudging Yunho by the elbow.

“Mm,” Yunho said. His voice was tinged with the kind of tiredness that mirrored Wooyoung’s own. 

One last exam, then we’re done with school, Wooyoung repeated to himself, hoping that would make the day come sooner so they’d have the whole of summer to themselves.

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The whole school erupted into chaos on the last day — papers being thrown around everywhere, smiles high on everyone’s cheeks, laughter bubbling up everyone’s throat. 

Wooyoung was no exception to this; he dragged Yunho by his long arms, sprinting the length of their school ground the way Dari — the stray puppy they had adopted as theirs at this point — did when she got the zoomies, unable to keep themselves from smiling and smiling and smiling.

“You’re going to rip my arm off!” Yunho yelled, trying to pull away from Wooyoung. The latter didn’t budge, of course, doubling down and pulling him harder.

“Make use of your long ass legs and run fast!” 

And then they were running out of campus, hands held tight in between them, the happy sounds of all their classmates fading out as they sped through the streets.

Once the familiar sight of Wooyoung’s favourite candy store came into view, they slowed down, both of them reaching to a stop with their hands on their knees as they heaved for breath.

Then Wooyoung was all over Yunho, climbing him like a monkey on a tree in the name of hugging him. Yunho simply laughed, pulling Wooyoung’s arms over himself tighter, and they simply basked in the presence of each other’s rapid breaths and equally feverishly beating hearts. 

Dari came running forward, too, the little puppy wagging her tail and cutely yipping, wanting to be included. Wooyoung jumped off Yunho, reaching down to grab Dari off the road, letting her lick all over his face.

“We’re free now!” he said, kissing her head. “I’m going to take you to the beach!”

She preened under all the attention before Yunho snatched her from Wooyoung’s hands and nudged his nose into her tiny forehead. 

The weather was sweltering, the sun high up in the sky, beads of sweat rolling down the sides of both their faces. 

Wooyoung looked at Yunho cradling the puppy, her entire body almost disappearing in his hands, wanting to snatch her back and say, Hey! That’s not allowed! I got her first! but Yunho looked positively delighted — his whole set of teeth out for the entire world to see, the corners of his eyes crinkling as Dari licked his cheek, his nose scrunching up as he threw his head back in laughter.  

Wooyoung’s breath caught; he felt a burst of happiness as he watched his best friend smile so carefree, face a pleasant shade of pink because of the heat.

“We’re going to the beach tomorrow,” he said, holding onto the strap of his backpack that hung loose on his shoulder. 

“We are?” Yunho asked, an adorably quizzical look on his face. He put Dari down, and she continued to run laps around them, jumping over both their feet. 

“Mhm,” Wooyoung said. “Let’s take the train. Oh! We could go to the flower fields!”

Yunho’s face lit up. “Ah, yeah! Let’s call Sannie and Yeosangie, too!”

“No,” Wooyoung said quickly. He loved his friends — he did. But something about the happiness that coursed through him right now made him feel the urge to celebrate it only with Yunho. “Just us.”

“O—okay,” Yunho agreed, looking taken aback. The tips of his ears were glaringly red. Wooyoung looked away, heart knocking into his chest. “Just us.”

What’s wrong with me? he thought, mentally slapping himself back to normal. I want to spend some time with my best friend. That’s all.

And then he went back to hanging off Yunho as they lazily walked back home, Dari at their heels, both of them never having to part because they lived opposite to each other.

Wooyoung saw his mother right outside his house when they reached, tending to her plants, and immediately launched himself into her arms, weeping tears of joy. She doted on him, and on Yunho (who she had to crane her neck almost perpendicularly to look at), giving each of them a ruffle to their hair and wishing congrats.

“We’re gonna go to the beach!” Wooyoung wasted no time in saying. “Tomorrow!”

“Sure thing,” his mom said. She pushed a chunk of hair away from Wooyoung’s face, the sweat making it stick up. “Do you want me to pack you guys some food?”

“No,” Wooyoung said. “We’re gonna have watermelon and ice-cream for lunch!”

He thought it would make his mom laugh, but she only had a questioning look on her face, as if debating on whether to let him have his way or not. 

“It was Yunho’s idea,” he quickly lied, seeing if that would make it easier to convince her. Sometimes Wooyoung thought his mom loved Yunho more than her own son — Yunho was the apple of her eye.

She simply rolled her eyes. “I know it wasn’t.”

Yunho had the audacity to snort. Wooyoung punched him in the arm, and when it only made him fully laugh, not counter his mom in the slightest, he kicked Yunho’s shin playfully. “Okay, fine! But we decided this together just now! Yunho-ya, vouch for me!”

Yunho looked at Wooyoung’s face, pointedly yet silently saying, You and I both know we didn’t, Wooyoung-ah, but he nodded anyway, still cowering under his hands to keep himself safe from Wooyoung. “We did,” he said out loud, too, just in case. 

Wooyoung looked into Yunho’s eyes, trying to say, Good. 

Yunho, who seemed to understand, rolled his eyes.

Wooyoung’s mom shook her head, saying, “Just so you know, I can read right through you, Wooyoungie. And fine, do what you want. You’ll do so regardless of what I say anyway.”

“Yay!” Wooyoung jumped, and then he was pulling Yunho with him to the latter’s house.

“Only for one day!” he heard his mom yell. “Or I’ll send you off to summer camp!”

“No!” Wooyoung yelled back, making sure his mom could hear. Then he grumbled to himself, “I’m literally an adult. How can she still threaten me with summer camp?”

Yunho laughed again, the sound a series of tinkles to Wooyoung’s ears; he could feel the vibration of it on his arms where he held Yunho, where it crept into the crevices of his heart. It broke free the tightness in his shoulders, his own lips spreading into a smile involuntarily.

It was always like this — every summer with its own distinct yet familiar flavour.

The smell of fresh green leaves.

The feeling of floating in the air like a helium balloon after exams.

The rush of heartbeats and the sound of fast breaths as they ran.

Yunho’s tall, lean frame trying to keep up with Wooyoung’s smaller, faster one.

The comforting warmth of Yunho’s body enveloping Wooyoung’s as they hugged.

Yunho’s soft hand tightly holding Wooyoung’s, so firm in its grip that Wooyoung never had to second-guess anything.

Yunho’s gentle, loving smile, that lit up his whole face—

directed right at Wooyoung.

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The roar of the waves and the sticky, noisy beach wind paired with the white-hot sun glaring down at them drowned out most of what Wooyoung was rambling about. But he still kept going, because he always had a lot to say and Yunho always had an endless amount of patience for everything he did.

They had to drag themselves through a huge swathe of sand and rocks, legs almost giving up on them, but the effort paid off — they were soon looking ahead where the waves met the sand, the sight beautiful and familiar and comforting in ways that couldn’t be put into words.

Wooyoung tugged Yunho’s hand, and then they were rushing downhill, collapsing headfirst into the water. 

Both of them got up, thoroughly soaked.

“You dumbass! I was going to keep my shirt dry!” Yunho whined, squeezing the water out of the corners of his shirt. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Wooyoung splashed him with more water exactly where he’d been squeezing.

This led to Yunho playfully pushing Wooyoung into the water, cursing him out. 

“Okay, okay,” Wooyoung said, pushing his hair back. “Let’s remove it and put it on the sand to dry.”

So they did just that and were back in the water again, Wooyoung trying to shove away the weird squirmy feeling he got in his stomach as he stared at the expanse of Yunho’s body. It was littered with freckles and moles. But Wooyoung already knew that. And yet, he had to look away and clench his hands into fists to ward off the urge to connect the spots on his body with his fingers. What would Yunho’s skin feel like under his fingertips? But he already knew the answer to that, too. So why was he thinking about it?

As if to physically put him out of his thoughts, Yunho charged at him in the water, and then Wooyoung had his breath knocked out of him as Yunho tackled him into the waves.

They chose their favourite spot on the beach, where most of the crowd were too lazy to walk to, so the only sounds filling Wooyoung’s ears were that of Yunho — Yunho’s hitched breathing as he tried lifting Wooyoung up, Yunho’s squeaky laughter as he kept failing to do so, Yunho’s tiny noise of surprise as Wooyoung got back up to switch their positions so Wooyoung was the one pushing Yunho down.

Once Wooyoung felt his arms wear down, he pulled away, and then simply floated in the water, letting the soft currents carry him to and fro. Yunho swam here and there, Wooyoung keeping his eyes closed and basking in the weird difference in temperature between the cool water and warm sun.

Their shirts were somewhere in the distance, drying and hopefully not flying off. 

“I can hold my breath for two minutes,” Yunho said suddenly. 

Wooyoung peeked through squinted eyes. “No, you can’t,” he said. “Don’t even try.”

“Watch me,” Yunho said, a smirk on his face as he dunked his head underwater. All Wooyoung could see was the wet mop of his hair floating on the surface. 

Wooyoung counted the seconds to ten, then twenty, then thirty. Sixty, a minute and twenty seconds, a minute and thirty seconds— bubbles were rushing out of Yunho’s mouth, and Wooyoung got worried. A minute and forty seconds in, the bubbles stopped — did that mean Yunho had no air in his lungs anymore? Wooyoung panicked, grabbing a handful of Yunho’s hair and tugging it up forcefully, not wanting to watch his best friend die in front of him.

Yunho struggled a little — was he shaking his head no? — and when Wooyoung figured pulling him up with his hair wasn’t doing anything, he plunged down into the water himself, cupping Yunho’s face in his hands and bringing him above the surface of the water. 

Yunho kicked him a little, still shaking his head. Then they both broke the surface, Wooyoung already feeling light-headed. He harshly hit the top of Yunho’s head. “What the hell is wrong with you! You could’ve died!”

Yunho wiped his face, pushing his hair back. He looks so handsome. When did he get so handsome? “Jackass,” he said, a little breathless, shoving Wooyoung back, who lost his footing and almost got carried away by the waves. Yunho got a hold of his hand and pulled him closer before that could happen. “I was five seconds away from two minutes,” he murmured, absentmindedly caressing the inside of Wooyoung’s wrist, still not letting go.

“You were going to drown,” Wooyoung managed. Yunho’s hand was— familiar. But it somehow still managed to send a shiver up his arm. 

“I wasn’t,” Yunho said. He let go of Wooyoung’s hand, and only then did Wooyoung think he had enough air to breathe. Wasn’t Yunho the one who almost drowned? “I was going to achieve my goal.”

Wooyoung laughed, smacking him on the arm. “Goal? But you sounded like you’d done it plenty times before.”

The tips of Yunho’s ears, already red, turned an even darker shade. He murmured something, the words lost to the wind.

Wooyoung doubled down, “You were flailing like an almost-dead fish. You should be thankful I caught you in time.”

“Shut up,” Yunho said. Wooyoung burst out laughing — so he was almost going to drown and Wooyoung had just saved him.

“You shall now address me as prince charming,” he said dramatically, arms spread wide, as if he was giving a speech.

“I shall address you as nothing of the sort,” Yunho said, already in position for another lap of swimming.

He swam off before Wooyoung could do anything.

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“I told you to hurry up!” 

“Sorry, okay! My fucking shirt flew off!”

They missed the last train. 

Wooyoung and Yunho had dragged each other here and there to try fresh fruits and desserts after turning their toes and fingers to prunes in the water, fully losing track of time. It was Yunho who had suggested they probably start heading towards the subway station, just when the sky was turning into a swathe of orange and pink and the sun was half gone under the horizon. 

The air was cool and salty, and Wooyoung had been sitting on a footpath bench, devouring his third ice-cream for the day, shirt hung loosely on one shoulder and shorts finally free of sand from all the running around.

Yunho wore his shirt unbuttoned, very unsubtly impatient as he waited for Wooyoung to be done. 

And then they heard the chugging noise of the train, immediately after which they looked at each other in panic. The train blared its horns noisily as Yunho and Wooyoung ran for their lives, flip-flops in their hands and ice-cream numbing Wooyoung’s tongue after he shoved the whole thing in his mouth.

In the midst of it, Wooyoung’s shirt flew out of his grip.

And now here they were, the sky getting darker by the minute, watching their train choo-choo its way out of their sight.

Yunho groaned, shoving Wooyoung away from him.

“So what,” Wooyoung said, even though he didn’t feel very so what. They definitely couldn’t go back home on foot — it was way too far and late for that. But Wooyoung knew the route back by bus, so he pulled Yunho forward and led the two of them to the nearest stop, waiting for the next bus to arrive.

They sat on the benches there, Wooyoung now having enough sense to actually put his shirt on. He looked at Yunho, who sat with his head thrown back. Wooyoung’s eyes traced the dips and contours of his neck, trailing down, down — to the delicate lines of his collarbones, the soft swell of his chest, the little peaks of his nipples. Wooyoung swallowed and looked away, feeling lightheaded. 

Why is he sitting like that?

Should I ask him to button his shirt up?

…

Should I do it for him?

Wooyoung looked again, now at the expanse of Yunho’s stomach — the way it contracted and relaxed at every inhale and exhale. His shorts hung loose on his waist— Wooyoung wanted to trace the curve of it with his finger, see how it fit in his palm— 

…

What am I even doing?

By the time Wooyoung could get the familiar fluttery feeling out of his chest, their bus had arrived. So he got up, instinctively pulling Yunho up by the hand and finding them a seat. With how quiet Yunho was, Wooyoung figured he was thoroughly spent. So he gave his best friend the window seat and sat beside him, determined to keep an eye out for their stop.

It didn’t take long for Yunho to fall asleep. The bus didn’t shake much, but whenever it did, Yunho’s head flopped around here and there. After a few times of that happening, Wooyoung gently guided it to his shoulder, and then they stayed like that for the remainder of their ride back. 

Wooyoung almost fell asleep, too, but blinked his eyes wide open when he heard the name of the stop that was just before theirs. He hesitantly shook Yunho awake, and they went to stand near the doors, a few minutes after which they were getting off at their stop.

Yunho stretched his arms like a cat, his shirt flying back. It was only then, apparently, that he seemed to realize he’d been walking with his shirt unbuttoned this whole time. He screeched a little, hands scrambling to cover himself up properly.

“Why didn’t you tell me I’ve been walking around like this?” he asked.

Wooyoung gave him a look. Why? Because you looked good like that.

“Huh?” Yunho’s hands paused.

“What?” 

“What did you say?”

Fuck. Did I say that out loud? “Um,” he started, fiddling with his thumbs. Why was he getting so fidgety? This was just Yunho. But also — this was Yunho. “Yeah. You looked nice. Free.”

“Free?” 

“Like, relaxed. And stuff. You looked very— like you were letting loose. So.”

Yunho raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question Wooyoung any further. They walked home after that, bidding each other sleepy goodbyes.

Once Wooyoung was tucked into bed after cleaning up, he lay wide awake, staring pointedly at the moon.

One particular pair of hands that always felt like home and one particular set of lips that stretched into his favourite smile were keeping him from sleeping.

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Wooyoung’s parents had left him alone and completely unattended for the whole day because they had errands to run.

So, of course, that meant it was a necessity he invited Yunho over so they could mess around in the kitchen and cook something.

Contrary to popular belief, Wooyoung was a more than decent cook. The first time he’d made doenjang jjigae, Yunho had tasted it and had refused to believe it was his clumsy, hyperactive best friend who’d made it.

Needless to say, Wooyoung’s mother wasn’t too concerned with what he might get up to, so she’d left before lunch, trusting that Wooyoung would manage.

And Wooyoung, thinking he was being sly, lured Yunho in by saying he was making abura soba, and realized he didn’t have nearly enough onions for it only after Yunho had barged into his house excitedly.

“That’s okay,” Yunho said brightly. “I can get onions from my house.”

And that was how, without even intending to, Wooyoung had roped himself into making Yunho his favourite food for lunch.

They sat in front of the TV, put on a random K-Pop playlist and sang along to their favourite groups’ songs while happily slurping a concerning amount of noodles. 

Wooyoung got up after licking his bowl clean, Boy With Luv by BTS playing in the background. He said, “This calls for dessert,” and quickly put away the dirty dishes into the sink, grabbing all the ingredients he’d need for a quick little mug cake.

Yunho peeked his head in a few minutes later, the TV now playing Thanks by Seventeen, and slowly started helping Wooyoung. At least he tried to. The two of them, for all that they got along like bread and butter, had terrible harmony in the kitchen. 

“That’s way too much flour, Yunho-ya,” Wooyoung chided, pouring half the flour back into the bag. 

“I need my mug to be overflowing,” Yunho said, and poured the flour into the mug again.

Wooyoung grabbed the flour bag away from his hands. “I’m not going to let you burn my mom’s microwave down, okay?” he said with a sweet smile.

And then came the wet ingredients. Honestly, Wooyoung was not surprised — he shouldn’t have been. But what he could be was exasperated.

“Why did you mix the chocochips with butter?”

“It’ll make the cake more chocolatey!” Yunho chirped, licking his finger.

Wooyoung cringed, pushing his wall of a best friend to the sink. “Go wash your hands!” he yelled, then stared at the half-melted chocochips in the butter, half disgusted and half fond. 

He made sure to open up another pack of chocochips stashed in the cabinet, too, so Yunho could have enough to satisfy his heart. 

Yunho continued to do things exactly the way Wooyoung didn’t like, but the latter just let it happen. What were they there for, if not to mess around a little?

Once their mugs were in the microwave, they perched themselves on the kitchen counter, talking about random things.

One thing led to another, and Wooyoung was suddenly hit with the question: "Have you never… had a crush?”

All he could do was choke out, “What?”

Yunho picked at the fray edges of his t-shirt, mostly looking down. “You heard me,” he said, the tips of his ears red.

“I mean,” Wooyoung started. His hands felt clammy, his heart suddenly making its presence known. “I did, kind of, have a crush on Sannie. So no, it’s not like I’ve never had a crush. You know that.”

Yunho hummed. “I do,” he agreed. He looked up, and then Wooyoung was staring at the smear of chocolate at the corner of his lips, unable to look away. “But we were little kids then. What about recently?”

“Why are you asking me this?” Wooyoung blurted. Breathing was becoming hard, the air around them was starting to feel like a vacuum — he had to get it out.

“I don’t know.” Yunho shrugged. “Just because.”

A pause. 

And then Yunho stopped fidgeting with his t-shirt, his lean fingers tentatively reaching forward, playing with Wooyoung’s hand instead. 

The touch was soft. Familiar. Gentle. Experimental, almost. “We don’t usually talk about this stuff,” he murmured. 

“So why bring it up now?” Wooyoung asked. He could feel his throat pulse unsteadily. “Do you have a crush on someone?”

He wanted to take back his words the moment he spoke them into existence. But he also wanted to know Yunho’s answer immediately. 

Yunho’s fingers paused for a second, and then he was looking up at Wooyoung with an inscrutable expression. 

What if I shifted closer? Wooyoung thought.

…

What if I had said yes?

“Maybe,” Yunho said in a small voice, eyes not leaving Wooyoung’s. 

There was a hitch in Wooyoung’s breath. A mini heart attack. 

There was a bubble — a bubble that wrapped itself around them, which was starting to suffocate him.

Wooyoung felt like he couldn’t breathe — he wanted to break that bubble.

So he resorted to his playful self, slapping Yunho’s back with the hand that he wasn’t playing with. “Oh my god!”

Yunho blinked at the outburst, as if that was not what he was expecting. As if he was expecting Wooyoung to also confess—

“Yunho has a crush! I’m telling the whole street!”

And then he was getting up and jumping on the couch, a mixture of emotions sitting at the bottom of his stomach like thick sludge.

A moment later, the microwave pinged, and Wooyoung was saved from keeping the act up for longer.

He took the mugs out carefully, placing them in front of Yunho, who hadn’t moved from the counter yet. Wooyoung blew on the cakes a little and grabbed a spoon from one of the drawers, choosing to simply go back to sitting next to Yunho again.

The cake tasted amazing, but was more gooey than Wooyoung liked. But Yunho’s return back to normal with his happy little noises as he licked his spoon clean made it more than worth it.

“See, I told you adding chocochips to butter was a good idea!” he said, tapping the mug with his spoon.

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “It’s whatever,” he lied.

“You’re just mad my idea worked.”

“No, I’m just glad you didn’t set my house on fire.”

And then Yunho was putting his mug away and tickling Wooyoung, who shrieked and jumped off the counter, proceeding to run around the living room.

Yunho chased him everywhere he went, and they were soon a giggling mess, Wooyoung fake screaming at Yunho to get away and accidentally tripping over the small shoe rack and falling down. Six pairs of shoes and sliders rained down on his leg.

Yunho, who probably wanted to help him up, also fell on him in a pile, and they were laughing again, exchanging chocolatey breaths.

Up close, the urge to wipe away the smear of chocolate on Yunho’s face only grew, and grew even further when Wooyoung realized it was smeared all over his lips now. He didn’t look away.

He didn’t look away as Yunho paused a little, eyes roaming Wooyoung’s face. He didn’t look away as Yunho bumped noses with him. He didn’t look away when Yunho impulsively placed a kiss on his cheek.

“Aish,” Wooyoung said, heart in his throat. “Now my face is all sticky!”

Yunho laughed and got up, licking his lips clean. Wooyoung lay there for a second longer to catch his breath, then followed Yunho to the living room, where he sat with his and Wooyoung’s mugs in hand, waiting.

They continued watching TV, switching to random different channels, eating cake and talking over the TV for the most part. 

It wasn’t anything substantial — but it wasn’t nothing either. They talked about what they were going to do for college now that school was over, what clubs they were going to join. Catching each other up on things that had happened over the year that they’d forgotten to mention. Their extravagant dreams for the far future.

It grew dark by the time the noises in the living room died down. Wooyoung’s parents called and informed him that they were running late, asking him to lock the doors and sleep over at Yunho’s for today. 

So they happily went, Wooyoung handing the house keys over to Yunho’s mom.

They had a light dinner and settled into bed, the air conditioner in Yunho’s room on full blast as they snuggled under the covers. Wooyoung slid down a little so he could wedge his face into the crook of Yunho’s neck, and wrapped his arms tightly around Yunho’s waist, pulling him as close as humanly possible.

Wooyoung stayed awake only long enough to feel Yunho’s arms gently go around him.

Is it me? he wondered.

Do you have a crush on me?

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Wooyoung was a man of many talents. One of them included sports — specifically soccer. Although he didn’t have nearly enough friends to play in actual full-fledged teams with eleven players each, he did make the most out of the three best friends he had.

Him and Yunho met with San and Yeosang in the afternoon, the weather somehow only getting hotter.

Wooyoung hugged the two of them close, always excited to see them outside of school. 

They spent the majority of their time bickering more than playing, but it was fun nonetheless — sweaty body tackling another sweaty body to the ground, another trying to mediate the situation, another cheering on for them to fight harder.

Yunho finally dragged Wooyoung away from San, not before they both kicked each other playfully. 

And then they played — actually played — with Yeosang’s almost-professional soccer ball, using a bunch of rocks as a makeshift goal and changing teams every so often. The contrast of it wasn’t lost on them.

They stopped after an hour or so, and Yeosang suggested getting something to drink. So they were off to the nearest cafe that sold fresh-fruit drinks.

Yunho took the lead and ordered for the four of them, while the rest found a spot to sit.

“So,” San said, leaning forward. He sat next to Wooyoung, Yeosang across from them, saving a space for Yunho. The soccer ball was wedged between Yeosang’s feet. “How did your exams go?”

Wooyoung shrugged. “It was fine,” he said. “Not failing anything.”

Yeosang snorted. “Not failing anything? The bar is that low?”

“It is, Yeosang-ah. For people who aren’t as nerdy as you.”

That set him off, and Wooyoung sat through a gruelling two minutes of Yeosang complaining about how everyone always dismissed him as the nerdy one and never took him seriously when he genuinely needed help.

“Okay, okay, sorry!” Wooyoung said, cutting him off. “My bad. Let’s talk about what we did after — what have you guys been up to?”

San brightened, filling Wooyoung up on everything. Yunho came a few minutes later, and they talked about the past few days. 

“You baked a cake?!” San shrieked. 

“No, no,” Wooyoung rushed to inform. “Just a small, instant mug cake type of thing—”

“So you baked a cake! And didn’t bother saving anything for us!”

“San-ah, I literally only made enough for—”

“You mean we made it,” Yunho interrupted.

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “I made it and Yunho tried ruining it.”

“That’s not true.” Yunho made a face. A face Wooyoung couldn’t help but tease.

“Very much is,” he said, doubling down. “I’m gonna have to go on a diet because of how much chocolate I consumed that day.”

“It was the best cake you’ve ever eaten,” Yunho countered.

“Far from it.”

“Well,” Yunho said, leaning forward. “It tasted much better than anything you’ve made, so.”

Wooyoung was taken aback. He probably meant that as a joke. But why did it actually kind of hurt to hear him say that?

It was stupid. But Wooyoung grew quiet anyway, their conversation suddenly, abruptly cut short. 

San looked from Yunho to Wooyoung, as if trying to mediate the situation. “Ah, I’m sure it was amazing! Let’s— let’s all bake a cake together someday! A graduation celebration!”

“Oh, San-ah, remember our sisters went strawberry picking? We could make strawberry cake!”

Wooyoung felt San put an arm around his shoulders, squeezing a little. “Wooyoungie likes butterscotch, let’s make butterscotch cake.”

Wooyoung sipped his watermelon juice, deflating in his seat. He didn’t look at Yunho. 

Does he actually think that? he thought.

Has he been praising me out of pity this whole time?

The rest of them continued to talk, and Wooyoung just listened. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Yunho. As they talked, he learned from San and Yeosang that their sisters were always up to something ever since they got into the same university — that they were constantly with each other and were “being very suspicious.” 

“I’m telling you, I caught them holding hands in the store that day!” San said. 

“That doesn’t mean anything. Girls hold each other’s hands all the time,” Yeosang countered. 

“Okay but— I’m sure there’s something noona is hiding from me. How do I tell her that she can tell me stuff? I thought we were best friends.” San pouted. 

Wooyoung couldn’t help but soften. He placed a hand on San’s thigh, patting comfortingly. “Try hinting to her that you know something. Your noona is very smart, she’ll catch on.”

San smiled at him. Wooyoung poked his dimples. “So cute,” he said, going back to his juice.

“Um, anyway!” Yeosang said, “I heard our seniors are playing as a representative for our state next week. We should go, it’ll be fun.”

“Oh yeah, Seonghwa hyung told me! He gave me the address, too,” Yunho chimed in. 

Wooyoung only continued to sip his juice. 

Why didn’t you say anything about that? he didn’t ask.

Since when were you so close with Seonghwa hyung? he didn’t ask.

“Or we could go college hunting!” San said, nudging Wooyoung’s shoulder. “It’ll be fun. It’s about time we go anyway.”

They continued to make plans, and Wooyoung simply nodded along and agreed to everything. It was only because of how thirsty the weather was making him that he was able to finish the juice fully. 

As if both San and Yeosang figured that they wouldn’t be able to go back to playing like before, they bid Wooyoung and Yunho goodbye, clearly making up excuses for why they had to head back so soon. 

San gave Wooyoung a warm hug and whispered, “I’m sure Yunho was just joking. Talk to him.”

Wooyoung nodded, throat suddenly tight.

Yeosang was doing something similar to Yunho, and then they were off.

Wooyoung gulped, slowly walking in the direction of his and Yunho’s houses. 

Yunho walked beside him, hands in his pocket. He quietly said, “You know I didn’t mean it that way.”

Wooyoung looked at him. The usual pout of his lips were strained into a thin line. He looked — sad. “Were you just joking, then?” 

“Yeah,” Yunho said. Then, before Wooyoung could say anything, “No— no. That was a shitty joke.”

Wooyoung chuckled. He looked at their feet. “Kind of,” he agreed. He itched to ask the question that was plaguing his mind, but for some reason, the words wouldn’t make their way out of his mouth.

“But,” Yunho said. Wooyoung looked at him again. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “You should know that I didn’t mean it. I do love when you cook for— I mean… I love—”

A pause.

“I really like,” he corrected himself, swallowing again, “your cooking. I do.”

There was a beat. And then laughter. Wooyoung couldn’t keep it in, not after witnessing Yunho fumble so badly at an approximation of a praise. 

He also wanted to shove down the butterflies that had erupted in his stomach. 

“I do cook for you most of the time,” Wooyoung confessed, the rush of blood in his head making it difficult for him to hold back. He bumped shoulders with Yunho, teasing, “And what’s wrong with loving my cooking? Am I not there yet?”

Yunho looked unfairly, disgustingly adorable as he rubbed the back of his neck, his hand slowly going up to mess his hair up in frustration. His ears were as red as the watermelon juice Wooyoung had drank a few minutes ago.

“I guess I have to keep making food for you till you promote me from really like to absolutely in love.”

“I was just—” Yunho said, at a loss for words again. “I just thought it was… weird. So I— but no, I—”

“What are you saying.”

“Like— I was a bit… it just didn't seem like something— I mean, Sannie and Yeosangie are our best friends, but still… it's just—”

“You’re just vomiting words into my ears right now,” Wooyoung said, mildly amused. 

“Okay, fuck!” Yunho burst out. Wooyoung flinched, taken aback — Yunho almost never cursed. They paused on the footpath as he went on, “I love you and I love when you cook for me. I love everything you make and I love cooking with you. I thought it was weird for me to— to feel so strongly about that so I just insulted you because I panicked. I really wanted them to know that we made the cake together, that it turned out so amazing because we made it together.”

Wooyoung blinked. He saw Yunho heaving, as if he’d just run a mile. He would rather they had just run a mile — ten, even — than whatever this was.

“What?” Wooyoung squeaked. “Really?”

The air around them was humid and sticky, the orange of the evening slowly fading into the blue of twilight. The streetlights were being turned on, and there were a few dragonflies buzzing near them. 

“Did any of that sound like I was joking, Wooyoung-ah?” Yunho said in a soft voice, the rumble of it making its way into Wooyoung’s ears pleasantly.

Wooyoung swallowed, throat pulsing maniacally. “I was also just messing with you,” he rushed to inform. “You didn’t ruin the cake at all.”

Yunho’s shoulders slumped as he softened, too, and Wooyoung saw him bite back a smile. “I saw you take out another chocochip packet that day. You sneaky cat. You thought I wouldn’t notice.”

Now it was Wooyoung’s turn to rub his neck in embarrassment. He turned away, hoping the heat he felt in his face wasn’t reflected as deeply in a blush. “You looked so cute and happy.”

“Yeah?” Yunho asked. He looked away. “Even without dimples?”

“What?” 

“You said—” He paused. Still looking away. Then, “You always found Sannie cute because of his dimples.”

“Okay?”

“But I—” Another pause. “You know what, this is stupid. Let’s just go back home.” And then he was leaving.

Wooyoung blinked. 

Was Yunho jealous?

What was happening? Why did everything feel like it was going in a much, much different direction than usual? All their conversations, glances, touches, thoughts — something was different.

Wooyoung jogged to catch up with Yunho, and they made their way back silently, simply soaking in the late-evening air.

Once they reached and had to part ways, Wooyoung looked up at Yunho and spread his arms wide open. “I want to hug you.”

Yunho took a step forward and gathered Wooyoung in his arms like it was the easiest thing in the world. 

Maybe it was. 

Wooyoung hoped it was.

“I thought you were pitying me all this time, saying you liked what I made,” Wooyoung blurted. “I mean, when you said that. You know. I thought—”

“Oh, Wooyoungie,” Yunho said, holding him tighter. Wooyoung was on his tip toes, and then Yunho was fully lifting him up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t— I’m a dumbass.”

Woooung chuckled. He loved the way his name rolled out of Yunho’s mouth. Loved the way his stomach was swooping and cartwheeling, the way his heart raced and raced and raced. “You’re my dumbass,” Wooyoung whispered, voice a little strained.

He felt Yunho take in a shaky breath. Was his heart beating out of his chest, too, or was Wooyoung imagining it? “Yeah,” Yunho said. “Your dumbass.”

And then — a small shift. A kiss to Wooyoung’s hair. So small and soft it almost went unnoticed.

Wooyoung’s breath caught, again — he was positive his heart had stopped functioning. 

“Good night, Wooyoung-ah,” Yunho said, and let go after a squeeze. He turned around to leave, and Wooyoung was left gaping at the back of his head as it disappeared behind closed doors.

“Good night,” Wooyoung whispered to the air.

I should’ve been the one to kiss him.

… 

I didn’t say I love you back.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Since Wooyoung felt bad about not having taken Dari to the beach like he promised, Yunho planned a day out just for that.

San and Yeosang tagged along, too, and they were off, Dari reaching unprecedented levels of joy as she almost swarmed around the four of them like a bee.

In many ways, she was just like Wooyoung — who was only feeding off her energy and jumping along with her, running off on random tangents on the way, dragging out their walk to the train station more than the others liked. 

“If we miss the train, we're gonna leave him stranded,” Yunho announced. 

Wooyoung looked up from where he was crouched to play with Dari, trying his best impression of her puppy eyes. “You wouldn't,” he said, half a challenge.

“I, in fact, would.” And then Yunho was dragging the other two with his long arms, Dari looking confused and sprinting after them.

Wooyoung didn't have any other choice but to follow, lazily dragging his feet over the pavement with his hands behind his head.

The day was a bit too hot for them to actually enjoy being on the beach for long — even the water seemed warmer than usual. 

Wooyoung’s skin started blotching red in a few spots in less than an hour, and he was forced to put his shirt back on; but it didn’t do much. So he removed it and held back as much as he could without scratching his skin — it was so itchy.

They let Dari play as much as she wanted, San and Yunho chasing her around and Yeosang keeping an eye out for her in case she fell too far in the water. 

Wooyoung sat back, everyone's wet towels trying to cool his skin.

They called it a day some half hour later and went to his and Yunho’s favourite ice-cream cafe, which was when his skin stopped itching painfully. He didn't put his shirt on just yet, wanting all the sand to fall off completely.

Yunho and San went to order ice-creams, and Wooyoung sat back on his seat with Yeosang, thankful for the AC that was blasting in the cafe.

“Wooyoung-ah,” Yeosang called.

“Mm?” Wooyoung had his eyes closed, feeling thoroughly spent despite not having done much. 

“Do you maybe… have something to tell me? Tell us?”

Wooyoung peeked through squinted eyes, frowning a little. “Like what?”

Yeosang seemed to look at Wooyoung, then at something (someone?) behind him, then back again. “Like… like Yunho?” he prompted.

“Oh,” Wooyoung said. He stayed quiet, his heart thudding against his chest. 

“Yeah?” Yeosang urged.

“He's—” my best friend. But no. And Yeosang seemed to have already figured that out.

Wooyoung went back to keeping his eyes closed, and took a deep breath. 

Fuck. 

“It's fine, I mean—” Yeosang started. “Sannie and I already know.”

Wooyoung only nodded. Swallowed once, then again.

“I guess that day at the juice shop really sealed it,” Yeosang said, pondering a little.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Yeosang said. He looked thoughtful as he continued, “You're never upset over things that quickly. And Yunho was, how should I say this… about to commit actual murder when he saw you poke Sannie's cheek and call him cute that day.”

Wooyoung’s cheeks heated up. The butterfly swamp seemed well and alive in his stomach. “No he fucking wasn't.”

Yeosang laughed, his voice deep and fond. “Yes, he was, Wooyoung-ah. You should've seen him. If rage had a face, it would be his when he saw you and Sannie be all lovey-dovey.”

“That's why he asked if I thought he still looked cute even without dimples,” Wooyoung muttered. Back to eyes closed. “I hate him. And I hate you.”

“Oh yeah? What else did he ask?”

He asked if I had a crush on anyone. Then admitted to maybe having a crush on someone. “Shut up. Go away.”

“Wow.” Wooyoung peeked through slits, and saw Yeosang blow his eyes wide open. “Wooyoung — the world’s biggest, loudest, most shameless flirt — reduced to a mushy red-faced mess. Jeong Yunho’s powers, I guess.”

And then Wooyoung was off, pretending to check in on Yunho and San, who cradled Dari in his arms as they waited for everyone's orders. Wooyoung heard Yeosang laugh even from all the way here.

Yunho smiled immediately upon seeing him join. Wooyoung noticed his eyes very unsubtly slide down, tracing the lines of his exposed body, Wooyoung still not having put his shirt on. 

Yunho’s gaze— his gaze. 

Wooyoung wanted to cover himself up with a minimum of ten layers of clothes. And at the same time, he also wanted to strip down the measly layers he had on so he could watch Yunho’s eyes wander the entirety of his body, just to have the pleasure of witnessing the reddening of Yunho’s ears in real time as he took it all in.

Woyooung wanted Yunho to be greedy — for him to touch Wooyoung possessively, claim Wooyoung as his in front of everyone. Or, better — Wooyoung wanted to do all that with him. 

What on earth am I even thinking about?

When he looked back up, he noticed Yunho still looking at him — at his face now.

There was something unreadable in his expression. 

And then he was being called to collect the ice-creams, and Wooyoung was forced to shove his dirty thoughts down.

San held Dari for the majority of their time there, playing with her ears and scratching her forehead every now and then. Yeosang took her after a while, and then she fell asleep in his arms.

Their walk back to the train station was a lot more relaxed than the last time Wooyoung had been here.

Yunho kept close, their hands and shoulders constantly touching. Wooyoung just thought, fuck it, and laced their fingers together and walked the remainder of the way — it was not like they'd never held hands before.

Once they (miraculously) found seats in the train, Yunho still kept close, pushing Wooyoung over to the window seat. San and Yeosang sat in front, Dari asleep on Yeosang’s lap.

The sun hadn't set, not yet, but the weight of the day felt heavy as it settled on Wooyoung. His eyes drooped low, and he felt himself slowly drift to sleep, head resting against the cool window of the subway train.

It felt like seconds before he was being shaken awake by San.

He squinted a little after opening his eyes, and the first thing he saw was the familiar print of Yunho’s beach shirt. And then he felt a hand around his bare shoulders holding him tight and secure, and could smell a mixture of sand and salt and Yunho as he retracted himself from the latter’s grasp.

“Our stop is here, come on, hurry,” San was saying, and then Wooyoung shot up and dragged a sleepy Yunho behind him, just in time before the doors closed.

“They're so cute,” Wooyoung heard San whisper to Yeosang.

It made his stomach lurch. He wished there was something he could do about it — but everything felt so sudden and new. There were no rational thoughts in his head any time he thought about Yunho — just a concoction of love and attraction and confusion and fondness and awe.

They walked out of the subway station, and then Yeosang handed Dari to Yunho. Wooyoung sulked at not being the chosen one, but everyone ganged up on him and said he'd wake the baby up because he could never keep the aggressive nature of his affection under control.

“Okay fine! Everyone shut up—”

“Shh!” San pressed a hand to his mouth, and Yeosang lightly closed Dari's ears as she stirred in Yunho’s hands. 

Wooyoung frowned at them and stomped away dramatically, then waited for Yunho to catch up.

He did after a while, Wooyoung’s ears being blessed with the soft sounds of his laughter.

Yunho paused in the middle, handing Wooyoung the sleeping puppy. “Hold her,” he whispered.

Woogoung blinked. 

“You'll be gentle, I know,” Yunho said. “You always are.”

That didn't exactly leave Wooyoung with a choice. 

So they walked slowly, Wooyoung being as careful as he could. 

His stomach rumbled from not having eaten any actual food, and his hands started to hurt after some time because of how much he was exerting them to keep Dari from waking up.

“Hands sore?” Yunho asked — of course he noticed. 

Wooyoung nodded, then gave her back to him. 

They reached home to find both of their moms sitting outside Yunho’s house, their dads taking a stroll around the neighbourhood while chatting. 

Wooyoung ran to his mom, immediately showing her all the blotches on his skin. 

“This is why I keep asking you to take sunscreen with you!” she scolded. Yunho’s mom looked concerned, too.

Wooyoung pouted. “It hurts,” he said, and then his mom was all over him, cooing and worrying.

She gently traced a rash on his upper arm, saying, “Your skin is sensitive, Wooyoung-ah. Didn't Yunho pack sunscreen with him, at least?”

Yunho only looked embarrassed. His mom shot him a disapproving look.

Wooyoung’s mom sighed. “It's okay. Don't do this again.”

“I won't,” Wooyoung said, and then he was ushered into Yunho’s house by the latter’s mom, who insisted he used one of her creams so his skin could heal faster.

So Wooyoung was soon sitting with Yunho on his bed as he applied a generous amount of skin cream all over Wooyoung’s back. It was chilly as it touched his skin, and Yunho’s fingers tickled him a lot.

“Hey, stop moving!” Yunho chided, and when Wooyoung couldn't stop squirming because everything tickled, Yunho placed a firm hand on his bare waist as he slathered more lotion on his shoulders and arms. 

It worked, because Wooyoung temporarily travelled to a whole new dimension and back.

“There,” Yunho said, getting up. Wooyoung blinked back into his senses. “Should I cover it with tissues so it doesn't get wiped off when you sleep?”

“That's… a very bad idea,” Wooyoung said. “It’ll feel uncomfortable.”

Yunho seemed to agree. He opened his mouth a little, as if he was going to say something, then closed it. Pursed his lips. Tilted his head to the side once. Seemed to decide to just blurt it. “Sleep here so I can take care of you?”

“Oh.” That’s… also a very bad idea. “Okay.”

There was silence. 

Then Yunho helped him up and led him to the dining table to eat dinner. They ate slowly, chatting and feeding each other bits of food.

To say Yunho took care of him would be an understatement. Although the itchiness was mostly gone and Wooyoung was so used to it that he didn’t even think of it as that big of a deal, Yunho still thought about their sleeping arrangements so much that he was almost panicking.

“Yunho-ya,” Wooyoung called for the third time. “I said I’m fine. I’ve soaked in this cream for long enough and it doesn’t hurt or itch. We can sleep just like usual, I promise I’m okay.”

But Yunho only frowned. “I’ll reapply it,” he decided. “Come on.”

“No need. I said I’m fine!”

“You don’t know how your back looks! It feels like if I look at it too hard you’re gonna start bleeding!”

“That won’t happen. It doesn’t hurt. Even the weird burn that comes and goes isn’t there. It’s been a while, and there’s no sun now. I’m fine.”

“Still…” Yunho looked around, then seemed to have an idea. “Maybe I can give you my whole bed so you’re not hot and—”

“I could just go back to my house, then.” Wooyoung regretted opening his mouth. He didn’t want to go back to his house. “If I'm going to sleep alone anyway.”

…

“No.”

Relief. 

“Then shut up. I’ll go wash up and be back.”

A beat.

“Should I—”

“No need.”

“Maybe—”

“No.”

…

“Fine.”

Once everything was done and they settled into bed as usual, Wooyoung murmured into Yunho’s neck, “I want to stay up all night and watch the sunrise someday.”

He could feel more than hear Yunho hum. “We could do that.”

“Yeah? How’s tomorrow sound?”

“Like right now?”

“No, dummy. Tomorrow night.”

“Okay,” Yunho agreed. He turned a little so he could press his cheek on Wooyoung’s head. “Done.”

As Wooyoung slipped into slumber, he imagined both their hearts gradually starting to beat the same rhythm.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

They cooked together more often.

Well — it was more Wooyoung cooking and Yunho lingering and watching, but they were together, and Yunho loved saying we for everything, so Wooyoung just went along with it.

Some days were hot, some brought rain. Today was one such day — it was pouring. It was bad enough that Wooyoung had to go outside to scoop Dari from whatever rock she was hiding under and let her roam the space of his living room.

Wooyoung’s parents were off to work, so both Wooyoung and Yunho thought it would be a good idea to experiment in the kitchen again. They were making aglio e olio— Wooyoung was trying to make aglio e olio and Yunho was busy shoving abura soba ingredients in his hands.

“I’m going to kick you out!” Wooyoung shouted the third time Yunho passed him a huge onion instead of chopped up garlic like Wooyoung had asked. 

Yunho burst into laughter. Wooyoung hated, loathed how fond it made him feel. You’re supposed to be mad at him, he reprimanded himself. 

“You won’t,” Yunho said, and Wooyoung looked up from where he was staring at the pasta boiling to see a deadly combination of a smirk and an eyebrow raise plastered on Yunho’s face. 

Just to make a point, and to also calm his heart that was picking up pace, he kicked Yunho in the shin, making the tall, broad, handsome wall that was his best friend stagger backward. 

Before Yunho could retaliate, Wooyoung said, “I’m armed with boiling pasta water. Don’t try anything funny.”

Yunho rolled his eyes, but obediently picked up the abandoned garlic and started peeling it. 

Dari was currently jumping up and down the couch — Wooyoung was glad he’d cleaned up all her paws the moment she entered. She couldn’t bark properly, but there were occasional little sounds to which Yunho always responded like she was a real human baby.

It was so cute. It was so unfairly cute. 

It didn’t take them much time to finish making the easy dish — it was a mere fifteen minutes later that they sat right atop the kitchen counter, devouring the pasta straight from the pan. Wooyoung had to make sure his mom didn’t know they were doing this — she always hated when anyone ate directly off her dishes. 

“We still haven’t gone to the flower fields,” Yunho said. His lips were in a pout as he chewed, oil smeared all over, making it look soft and shiny. 

“The weather’s been so bad,” Wooyoung said, looking down at the pasta after catching himself staring too long.

Yunho hummed, the noise followed by his slurping. 

“Tastes good?” Wooyoung asked, smiling at how well Yunho was eating.

Yunho aggressively nodded, his face positively stuffed to the brim. 

Wooyoung laughed. “You’re going to choke, eat slow,” he said, and couldn’t help but reach forward to pat Yunho’s cheek. 

It was over in what felt like seconds. Wooyoung (they) had thankfully made enough to satisfy both their growing appetites, so when they finally got off the counter to clean the space up, they were full to the point of almost throwing up. 

They cleaned, then sat on the couch, where Dari was slowly but surely drifting to sleep. The rain got heavier, drenching the world outside and turning it grey, the afternoon dark and sticky with humidity. 

They lazily watched TV, then called up Yeosang to goof around with him, then went scurrying to the kitchen to find more snacks. It was just like always — summer bringing out their most unhealthy yet happy selves. 

The following days were equally as unpredictable, sometimes afternoons sweltering and nights pouring rain, other times vice versa. 

But unquestioningly, Yunho and Wooyoung spent all of it together — mostly because they loved no one else’s company more than each other’s. 

One day, for the fourth — fifth? Wooyoung lost count — time that month, Wooyoung dragged Yunho up to his terrace, determined to stay awake till they saw the sun.

This time, he could do it — he had slept extra the night before just so he could make it happen.

“I don’t know why I also have to put myself through this,” Yunho complained as they made their way up after dinner. 

Wooyoung shot him a scandalized look. “What do you mean, why do you also have to do it?” he asked. “Obviously you have to! You even said ‘done’ that day!”

“That’s because I thought it was a one-time thing,” Yunho mumbled. “It’s fine if you can’t, Wooyoung-ah. We can set an alarm right before sunrise so we can see—”

“No! That’s no fun!”

Yunho sighed. “Can we at least sleep in an actual room on an actual bed?”

A glare.

…

“Sorry. Got it.”

Yunho then followed Wooyoung’s sleeping arrangement that he’d meticulously planned — a ton of newspapers spread out, on top of which Yunho’s air mattress went, on top of which Wooyoung dumped every single comforter and pillow he owned. 

It was a surprisingly bright night — a half moon high in the sky, streetlights still on. It hadn’t rained for four days now, and the forecast was good, so mosquitoes were scarce, too.

Wooyoung snuggled into his pillow as Yunho lay down next to him. “I barely have space,” he said.

“Look at the sky,” Wooyoung said, ignoring him.

“I’m looking.” Yunho seemed to take advantage of the minimal space, wrapping an arm around Wooyoung’s shoulders. 

Wooyoung shivered a little despite the humidity. “Is it not pretty?” 

“Mm.”

Wooyoung risked a glance to the side, only to be jumpscared by Yunho already looking back at him. “I was talking about the sky,” Wooyoung said, trying to calm his stupid heart that was beating out of his chest.

“I know,” Yunho said. He rubbed lazy circles on Wooyoung’s shoulder. Both of them only wore thin tank tops and matching shorts. 

There was silence. 

Wooyoung simply let his eyes roam Yunho’s face — a face he had seen up close more times than he could count. It was dark, but not dark enough for Wooyoung to have difficulty spotting the little details on Yunho’s face that he so loved. His eyes jumped from one freckle to another, one mole to another. Then to the little patch of stubble on his chin, to the one stray eyelash stuck under his eye, to the long length of his pretty nose. Then his lips— his lips.

Wooyoung paused, eyes suddenly unable to roam and only capable of fixating. 

He let his thoughts run wild, feeling safe under the private darkness of the night.

What would it feel like if Yunho pressed his lips to Wooyoung’s?

Would Yunho be as gentle as he usually was, always prioritizing Wooyoung over everything else?

Would he taste like the apple juice he usually drank after dinner?

Would he hold Wooyoung like he was something precious?

It was unbearably painful for Wooyoung to even think about Yunho being with anyone else but him. It was more than jealousy, more than attraction — more than love itself.

“Are you staring at me? Are you asleep?” Yunho asked quietly. “It’s dark, I can’t see you properly.”

Fuck.

“I’m not!” Wooyoung said, voice a tad too squeaky, pretending to have just opened his eyes. 

Yunho laughed. “I don’t even know why I do these dumb things with you,” he mused. Wooyoung almost drowned in the fondness of his voice.

“Because you should,” Wooyoung said. Because you love me.

“I like my sleep more than you,” Yunho teased. Wooyoung didn’t miss his thumb caressing the skin of his shoulder.

“Sure you do,” Wooyoung said, rolling his eyes even though Yunho wouldn’t be able to see it. 

But could Yunho hear how loudly his heart was knocking against his chest? Could he feel it?

“Stop rolling your eyes,” Yunho said.

“Stop saying dumb shit.”

“Stop coming up with these lame ass ideas.”

Wooyoung got up and turned the other way. How dare he. How dare he.

It was a curse, really, how much the light trickle of Yunho’s laughter affected Wooyoung, reducing him to a useless puddle of goo. 

It was an even bigger curse how perfectly his back molded against Yunho’s chest as the latter put his arms around him, drawing him close, laughter unceased.

Wooyoung felt Yunho’s breath on his neck. His grip on sanity loosened a little more.

“You’re one dramatic, dramatic little kitty,” Yunho said after recovering from his giggle fit. “I’m still not taking that back, though. This is a lame ass idea.”

“Go back home, then!” Wooyoung said. He couldn’t help the whine that seeped into his tone. “Since you hate it so much!”

“You’ll let me?” Yunho asked.

“You’ll go?” Wooyoung's voice was small.

And no, he was not embarrassed about being so desperate.

Yunho let out another breath of laughter.

His hands tightened around Wooyoung. 

“Yeah, I’ll go,” he said quietly. “Should I?”

Wooyoung turned around, making sure to press their foreheads together so Yunho could see the frown on his face properly. “It’s not a question of whether you should. You simply can’t.”

“Yeah?” Yunho asked. He leaned forward— and then Wooyoung panicked, immediately pulling back.

What were they doing?

“Yeah,” Wooyoung said. Yunho chased his forehead back, pressing them together. It was not like Wooyoung even had anywhere else to go, so he just put up with it, fighting the demons in his head screaming at him to grab Yunho by the face and kiss him silly. “You’re stuck with me no matter how much you hate it.”

Yunho slightly nudged their noses together. He still held Wooyoung as he murmured, “Fun.” 

What is air?

How to breathe?

Why do we need to breathe?

Then—

Cool air hit his face. Yunho had pulled away. 

“Wake me up if I sleep,” Yunho said, removing the hand that was around Wooyoung. The one under him lay limp.

Normally, Wooyoung would’ve pulled it back so both his arms were around him again.

But after whatever that was just now, it made him keep his hands to himself.

“You won’t sleep,” Wooyoung murmured, returning to look at the sky.

He stared at it for a long time. The longer he looked, the more he realized it was continuously changing — every time he blinked, there was something new that appeared. It kept him distracted enough for his heart to calm down.

When his eyes felt droopy, he turned to the other side again, pressing his back to Yunho. There wasn’t really much to look at, so he got bored after a while and turned back again.

“Is this your way of keeping me awake?” Yunho asked. “It’s working.”

“I’m so bored. Can we do something?”

They ended up sneaking into Wooyoung’s room where they played games on his switch. 

It went on for longer than either of them realized.

They went back to the terrace, standing and looking over at all the buildings. They made up their own stories about what the people in every house were doing.

It was a different, new type of Yunho that Wooyoung saw — his thoughts were a bit more complex, more nuanced. He was always sensitive towards people, but his empathy somehow only seemed to have increased. 

It felt like forever before they saw a hint of light in the sky.

“It’s happening!” Wooyoung said, pulling Yunho’s arm.

“Wow,” Yunho said, glancing up at the sky in awe.

Wooyoung let his eyes wander, this simple, silly thing making his heart feel so full.

It was a different type of thrill altogether, watching the sun rise while standing next to the person who was half his soul.

Once it started, the light spread quickly — it was minutes before the world was bright again. 

“Good morning,” Wooyoung said, beaming.

“Good morning,” Yunho echoed, cheeks bunched up and lips pulled into Wooyoung’s favourite smile.

After all the trying and failing and finally succeeding at staying up all night to see the sun strike stripes of red and orange across the sky, Wooyoung still thought there was nothing more breathtaking than the combination that was the light crinkle of Yunho’s eyes and his adorable toothy smile—

directed right at him.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

There was no rain at all after that.

So, naturally, Wooyoung and Yunho made their way to the flower fields that both of them had been dying to go to since summer began.

It was a bit of a trek, but they made it there a little before evening.

The place was a huge swathe of pink and purple and white. There were hydrangeas and lavenders everywhere, and Yunho was jumping with pure glee.

They walked through the meticulously planted flowers, careful where they put their feet. Yunho picked a few stray blossoms and tucked it behind his ear. Wooyoung thought he looked like a whole new entity. He took Yunho’s camera from him, clicking a few pictures here and there, trying not to get lost in the bigger sea that was his affection towards his best friend.

There was a whole other strip of land filled with sunflowers.

Needless to say, they spent a lot of time there, posing with the flowers and clicking pictures of each other. 

Wooyoung took one too many — something about Yunho surrounded by his favourite flowers did something to him.

It was nearing sunset by the time they walked the whole expanse of all the fields. When they reached the end, Yunho plopped down tiredly, pulling his knees up to his chin. Wooyoung sat down next to him.

“Is it just me or are there so many more flowers than usual?” Yunho asked. “I feel like we took a lot longer to get here this time.”

“It’s because you kept acting like a dork,” Wooyoung fake-complained. He looked to the side to see a devastating pout on Yunho’s face.

“It just looks so nice. And smells amazing,” he said. Wooyoung impolitely asked his heart to stop clenching.

“You’re just an overgrown puppy,” he said, heart only doubling down and beating faster when Yunho turned his head towards him.

There was a look on Yunho’s face. 

A light blush coating his cheeks.

The tips of his ears already glaringly red.

“What?” Wooyoung squeaked.

Fuck. Fuck. He’s making it so hard. 

“Nothing,” Yunho breathed. Then, “You clicked a lot more pictures of me today than usual.”

Busted.

“Yeah, there were a lot more flowers than usual.” 

“That’s what I said, asshole!”

“I never said you were wrong.” Wooyoung rolled his eyes.

Yunho shoved his shoulder. “You are so insufferable and annoying.”

“Yeah?” Wooyoung asked, getting up and dusting the back of his pants. “Want me to be even more annoying?”

Yunho blinked up at him. “What are you doing?” He still cradled a flower with him, his long fingers gently playing with the petals. Wooyoung forced his eyes back up. 

“I can reach the other end of the fields before you,” Wooyoung challenged.

Yunho raised an eyebrow, instantly getting up. “In your dreams,” he said, and took off.

Wooyoung yelled at him, calling him a fraud as he ran for his life after him. 

The sky was turning orange and purple, a mirror of the flowers they ran through. They ran for what felt like ever.

The air was filled with Yunho’s laughter, Wooyoung’s own curses and protests melting away and turning into the same unrestrained laughter as they ran.

The whole world, then, seemed like a blur of happiness and colour and hope — and Yunho. Even though there were a few other people visiting the fields, too, Wooyoung only saw Yunho in the midst of it all — Yunho’s back, Yunho’s beet red ears, Yunho’s shoulders shaking as he laughed, Yunho’s long legs carrying him through the fields, Yunho’s cheeks visible even from behind as he smiled — Yunho, Yunho, Yunho.

It was somewhere towards the end of their race, in a small patch of land where there were no plants, that Yunho fell down in exhaustion, clutching his knees to catch his breath. Wooyoung landed right on top of him, also heaving.

“Did you—” Yunho started, panting, “really— have to— do that?”

“Yeah— yeah, I did,” Wooyoung said, wincing as he inhaled.

The ground was soft — it was almost an entire bed of fallen flowers. Wooyoung retracted himself from Yunho, tiredly lying down on the ground right there.

He felt more than saw Yunho do the same, the overwhelming warmth of his body enveloping Wooyoung in just the right way.

They lay there together for a while, catching their breath.

Yunho’s hands inched closer to Wooyoung’s, and Wooyoung was busy trying not to let it affect him.

Even though it was evening, the sun still shone, warm on their skin.

“Wooyoung-ah,” Yunho called. 

A beat.

Wooyoung glanced at him. Yunho turned on his side, fully facing Wooyoung.

In the light of dusk, Wooyoung found he could easily connect the marks on Yunho’s face with his eyes. Did Yunho know that the little flecks of chocochips on his face were Wooyoung’s favourite part about him? That Wooyoung was concerningly obsessed with them?

Almost instinctively, Wooyoung leaned forward to press a featherlight kiss on the mole right below Yunho’s left eye.

Yunho’s breath audibly hitched.

Wooyoung pulled back. He gulped. Looked at Yunho’s lips.

There was another beat.

Wooyoung looked up to see Yunho already looking back, then followed his eyes everywhere they went.

The proximity with which they lay sent sparks up Wooyoung’s spine. 

Yunho brought up a hand and placed it on Wooyoung's cheek.

The touch was gentle. Tentative. Questioning. 

Wooyoung looked from Yunho’s eyes to his nose, then down to his lips. That was all he seemed to be capable of doing these days — stare and stare and stare at those lips.

Yunho’s breath hitched again. 

Wooyoung shifted closer this time.

“Yunho-ya,” he whispered into the tight space between them. Kiss me. “What lip-balm are you wearing?”

Yunho’s hand on Wooyoung’s face shifted, now cradling the side of his jaw, thumb caressing the skin softly. His eyes wandered Wooyoung's face, gauging, measuring. They seemed to ask, Yeah? Can I? “You wanna know?” 

Wooyoung’s heart crashed into his chest with a vengeance. Please. Please kiss me. “Yeah.”

Wooyoung’s imagination had done no justice to what it actually felt like to be kissed by Yunho. He was handsy with it — touching Wooyoung everywhere he could as he molded their lips together again and again.

There was no time — no need — to breathe; not with Yunho kissing him like he was a man dying of thirst and Wooyoung’s lips were his only source of water.

Yunho’s hand went from holding Wooyoung by the face to travelling down — to his neck, shoulders, arms. They pulled him closer, closer, closer, till there was nothing left between them but their hearts that were going haywire with each kiss.

Wooyoung lost it when Yunho's hand travelled even further down to clutch the curve of his waist, his palm slotting there deliciously like a puzzle piece — he couldn't help the little needy sound that made its way out of his mouth involuntarily. 

“Get up,” Wooyoung whispered against Yunho’s lips urgently, pulling away. 

Yunho did, and Wooyoung took all but a second to appreciate the beauty of his wrecked lips before scrambling to his lap and connecting their mouths again.

The sky above them danced in the shades of late-evening, stars beginning to twinkle on and off, on and off, yet they stayed kissing.

Yunho’s hands roamed even more than before — they gripped Wooyoung’s face, then his neck, messing his hair up, then dropped down to slip under Wooyoung’s shirt where his lean fingers caressed the plane of Wooyoung’s stomach, trailing to run a hand over the sensitive skin of his waist, the length of his spine— Yunho kissed and kissed and kissed and touched and touched and touched—

They pulled back, heaving for breath even harder than before. 

The silence that followed felt solid. Like it was a block of water turning to ice by the second, not allowing them to speak.

Then—

“I want to do that again,” Yunho breathed. His hands were positively glued to Wooyoung’s bare waist with a vice-like grip. 

A small disbelieving giggle bubbled up Wooyoung’s throat. A crack in the ice.

And then they were leaning into each other’s necks and shaking with pure, unbridled laughter.

Did that just happen?

Is this my life?

Yunho’s hands tightened their grip as they held Wooyoung in place on his lap. “I’m not joking,” he said. Wooyoung gulped as Yunho’s thumb gently caressed the skin of his waist. Yunho leaned in and kissed Wooyoung again, chaste and sweet.

It was too much.

“I think we should head home.” The words rushed out of his mouth, Wooyoung trying not to roll his eyes back and let out the lewd noises threatening to spill from his lips at how good it felt to have Yunho touch and kiss him exactly how he'd been dreaming and craving. 

Yeah, we need to leave right now before I lose it.

Before Yunho could say something that would make Wooyoung cave right in, he stood, reaching a hand out for Yunho to take.

Yunho pouted, but was already getting up. 

They walked the remainder of the way back to the bus stop, and within no time, were heading home.

Neither of them made an effort to let the other go. They took their time walking the street, hand in hand, dragonflies buzzing here and there. A shy, giddy silence draped itself around them.

“My parents are still at work,” Wooyoung said when they finally stood in front of his house.

Yunho’s eyes instantly sparkled. “Yeah?” he asked, grabbing Wooyoung’s hand and already pushing him towards his house. “Do you wanna go in?”

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Yunho worked at the speed of light to pick Wooyoung up and shut the door a little aggressively, proceeding to crowd him against the wall and capture his lips in a searing kiss.

Wooyoung giggled into Yunho’s mouth when they broke for air, then was immediately shut off as Yunho’s lips worked their magic again. He kissed like he was drinking Wooyoung in, like he couldn’t get enough, like he was still dying of thirst.

It felt surreal and impossible that this was happening. It took Wooyoung back all the way to their childhood, and then he was thinking about all the things that had happened to lead up to this moment. It played in his head like a movie as they dove for kiss after kiss, their lips almost working overtime. 

The rush of sea breeze in Wooyoung’s hair, and Yunho mischievously splashing him with water before swimming off.

Yunho pulled back, kissing Wooyoung’s cheeks. “Wooyoung-ah,” he whispered, and Wooyoung sighed against his temple, trembling a little. “Wooyoung-ah, you’re so pretty, do you know that?”

The gloomy days during winter, when Wooyoung would beg his mom to sleep over with Yunho almost every day of the season and jump into the latter’s arms in pure delight every time she agreed.

Yunho kissed Wooyoung’s closed eyelids, caressing, murmuring, “Beautiful. So fucking beautiful.”

That time of the year during Wooyoung’s birthday, when he would feel the happiest, because Yunho always knew exactly how to make his day special.

Wooyoung held Yunho by the head and pulled him back, connecting their lips again. Yunho pressed closer, his hands going back to their place on Wooyoung’s waist. It felt like home.

That one time when Yunho injured his ankle during soccer practice, and Wooyoung secretly crying in his room because he thought Yunho would never be able to play with him again.

Wooyoung broke away and trailed his lips all over Yunho’s face, kissing every mole and freckle that were etched to the back of his eyelids by now. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he whispered, and could feel Yunho shiver, his grip on Woooyung’s waist tightening. “I love you.”

All the times Wooyoung lay sick in bed because of allergies, and Yunho rushing to stay by his side right after school so he could catch up on everything.

Yunho bent down, kissing the side of Wooyoung’s neck, gently pulling the skin there between his teeth. “Oh, god,” Wooyoung whined, hands reaching up to clutch handfuls of Yunho’s hair. 

All the evenings they ran and ran and ran and ran wild till their last breath — hand in hand, chasing after the sun that drenched them in gold, smiling at each other like they were the last living people in the world.

Yunho pulled back and rested his forehead against Wooyoung’s, both of them simply taking it all in, breathing each other’s breaths.

Then—

Wooyoung looked up.

Yunho smiled.

The freckles on his face shifted.

“I love you,” he whispered, stars in his eyes.

Maybe they were the last living people in the world.