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“Let me just say this here, we are not dating, we are just friends,” San says firmly, and a knot forms in Wooyoung’s stomach as the words become clearer and his mind gets foggier.
He remains silent, pen on paper, writing absent-minded. A nod would be enough, but his neck is stiff and he can’t bring himself to make a sound. They change the subject, carry on, laugh it out, but Wooyoung lingers in that moment for a while.
We’re not dating, we’re just friends. Everything in that statement is wrong. Yes, they are not exclusively dating, but what the two of them have is strong enough to be so much more, and certainly more than just friends. They are soulmates and the best of friends. And Wooyoung knows better than to cling to every word, especially if said for the whole world to hear, but it bothers him regardless. Realistically, he knows that San did the right thing, but it reminded Wooyoung of the bitter truth: that they are not dating, and probably never will. And that even if they were, they could never let people know, at least not with such ease and without sacrificing everything that they have fought so hard for.
“But I wish he would have phrased it differently,” Wooyoung sighs and lets his head rest on his arm, staring at the bubbling somaek in his glass. Yeosang sighs and tries to find the right thing to say, but he knows Wooyoung is not level-headed at the moment. “I know that we’ve made it clear many times, how important we are to each other, and I know he loves me, but I thought,”
Silence. Wooyoung lifts his head and takes a sip from his drink. There is a long pause while he is contemplating, thinking of all the possible ways in which he could express what he’s feeling. Yet all he can think about is how San looks at him, how he takes care of him, how the air gets thicker when they get closer, the hidden touches, glimpses, ridiculous not-so-funny-anymore jokes, the kisses, the tension, the closure, his parents, their parents-
“I thought he loved me in that way. No, I hoped he loved me in that way. And I know that he might and that his statement means nothing, but we never talked about it, and yet he felt the need to clarify to the world that we are just friends.”
It annoys him when he says it outloud, and it annoys him that he is annoyed by it. Maybe it’s because he has been holding himself back for a while, afraid that if, although unspoken, they were something, he could ruin everything by doing or saying the wrong thing. But now he feels like a fool for even waiting, expecting, and getting upset by something so trivial, and he can’t bear to talk to San about it. They talk and argue about everything, but not this. When it gets brought up San gets weird, squeamish, awkward, he does not want to define what they have as romantic, while Wooyoung has come to terms with it a long time ago.
They are a couple, everyone knows it but San.
“He has a problem with people thinking we are dating, clearly! He needs people to know that we are just good friends.”
Yeosang tilts his head and makes a face, unsure if he should let Wooyoung go on, since he is visibly getting more frustrated by the minute. The two of them, they have always been like this. They’re close, very close, but not in the way Yeosang and Wooyoung are. They are so close that their relationship has a fragility that no one can touch. Everyone is used to it, to the sweetness that turns into banter and back into sweetness. To the proximity of their bodies that somehow always gravitate towards one another. Subconsciously everyone knows it, but no one ever brings it up, unless teasingly or for the sake of variety.
“But now that I think about it, since we are not dating, and he obviously does not want to even be mistaken for doing so, then there should be no problem with me letting loose a little bit, right?” Wooyoung asks, eyes glowing with something that is only going to bring more trouble. “I have so many close friends who would love to start a rumor with me. Friends who are not bothered by the idea. You know, I have been holding back a bit. We all know how he gets. But, since we are not dating, it makes no sense for me to be considerate of his undefined jealousy, right?!”
Yeosang has a bad feeling about this. He’s seen it happen before. Wooyoung is quite fiery and, well, petty. He knows exactly what buttons to push and how to act in order to drive people crazy, and if that is fueled by something dear and personal to him, he may lose sense of right and wrong. San and Wooyoung are both stubborn, they’ve always been, and it’s very disadvantageous when they have misunderstandings that they’re unwilling to communicate about. So, yes, Yeosang has a very bad feeling about this.
That night Wooyoung falls asleep in his room after drunkenly mumbling to himself for a while, and strangely enough San doesn’t show up to check on him.
The next few days Wooyoung is not that different but harder to handle than usual. He acts as if nothing happened, and treats everyone the same, even San, but there is a tension in the air that can be certainly felt. Wooyoung is…friendlier than ever. He is already very social and close to his friends, but he’s been significantly more affectionate, if that’s even possible. It feels as if he’s trying to treat everyone like he treats San, and it’s an eyesore. Because Yeosang knows what this is all about, and watching it unravel is, aside from amusing, concerning.
San has always been an open book. No matter what he feels, it will show on his face, in his body-language, his tone. He’s bad at hiding it, and when he’s jealous it reeks off of him. He becomes stoic, his face is stern, he barely speaks and most of the time it goes away once he gets the attention he needs, but recently it has been painful to watch. All the members have picked up on what’s going on, except for him, which makes the atmosphere stiff at times, as if people have to walk on eggshells around him. Around sweet, soft-spoken San, who knows something is wrong but is too clueless to put the pieces together.
“What are you doing? I thought we’re not dating?” Wooyoung says, slightly sassy, when San wraps his arms around his waist like he always does. But Wooyoung’s tone is light, and he’s grinning, so San can only roll his eyes. It’s been like this for a week already since they filmed their first YouTube video.
Wooyoung makes these unnecessary comments, but he doesn’t seem upset, and it’s confusing. San doesn’t know if he’s just being teased or if he did something wrong, and he is also becoming increasingly irritated with how around Wooyoung has been. They have talked about San’s jealousy before, and how it comes from a place of insecurity and uncertainty because San has never had someone like Wooyoung in his life before, and how he promised to make it less obvious and talk about it openly, but the situation is so ridiculous that he feels embarrassed to even bring it up. There is no reason for San to get jealous over their own friends, but Wooyoung is all over them and less on him, which is causing him distress.
“What’s wrong?” San asks, nose nuzzling in Wooyoung’s neck from behind, just the two of them in the hotel room. He doesn’t know if it’s the right thing to ask, because nothing is wrong, everything is normal, but he knows Wooyoung. And it feels as if his best friend is holding a grudge, but San can’t think of a single thing he’s done or said that could have been a reason for one. Or at least he hopes it’s not the one thing he can think of.
Wooyoung hangs his head low and stares at San’s hands on his stomach, clicking his tongue and a part of him finds this funny, while the other one wants to start a fight. He thought if he played with San’s feelings for a while it would make him feel better and forget about the whole situation, but San’s obliviousness is only making him upset all over again. They have been on tour, so he has been trying to keep it together. Everyone is already tired and stressed as it is, but he can’t brush it off no matter how hard he tries. San’s denial. San’s fear and embarrassment. And the possibility of it all coming from a place of genuine dislike of the sole idea of Wooyoung as his lover.
San’s arms unwrap gently, the warmth leaving with them, and Wooyoung almost holds them back, but when it’s just the two of them their physical affection feels more intimate. San takes Wooyoung’s necklace off and sighs, his hot breath on the back of Wooyoung’s neck.
“Do you hate it that much?” Wooyoung’s tongue slips and the words fill the room before he can hold them back. It’s not his thing, to stay silent. In the background, the restaurant beneath the hotel is playing a muffled, acoustic performance of a gut-wrenching melody. “That people think we’re dating,” He continues and turns around, leaning on the vanity table and meeting San’s eyes after a long day of indirectly avoiding them. And San makes a face, a face that is difficult to read, which is unlike him. He frowns a bit, licks his lips and closes his eyes with a deep sigh. As if it’s dawning on him just now, what this is all about.
Wooyoung’s timing is also off, with the tour and the debut of their channel, the fans have been re-awakened, scrutinizing all of their interactions. And Wooyoung watches and reads everything, because sometimes the fans understand him better than others. Until that one moment from their video is everywhere, and all of a sudden Wooyoung is stuck in a loop, overthinking all over again.
“That’s what this is about?” And San doesn’t make it any easier. “You cannot be serious.”
Wooyoung bites the inside of his cheek.
“You didn’t answer me,” He mumbles, hands gripping the edge of the table to hold himself grounded. “Do you hate it?” And Wooyoung hates being like this, so noticeably vulnerable and bothered by some words said thoughtlessly too many days ago.
San stares at him for a second, intensely yet softly, then inches closer and puts his palm on Wooyoung’s cheek, thumb under his jaw, and Wooyoung hates how he melts into the touch.
“Stupid,” San says in almost a whisper, caressing Wooyoung’s face. “I don’t hate it. But a lot of people believe in this, in us, being a thing, and it’s getting out of hand. I wasn’t thinking before I said it, but I also didn’t lie, and you know that.”
There it is.
Wooyoung reaches for San’s hand and takes it off of his face, holding it in his own instead in between their bodies. He says San’s name once, but he can’t bring himself to go on. Friends don’t solve arguments like this, caressing and holding each other. Wooyoung wants to selfishly bring up so many things, just to prove that they are not just friends, but that would disclose something very dangerous that once out there, can’t be taken back. And Wooyoung isn’t sure if he is ready for that. He’s usually upfront in their discussions, but everything is too much all at once.
“Let’s talk about this when we go back to Seoul,” Wooyoung eventually says, giving San a small, tight-lipped smile, and San knows better than to dig deeper.
They fall asleep spooning, the summer night breeze on their skin, and something heavy on their chests.
The tour goes on and they stay the same, Wooyoung turning his spite into ways to make San jealous, and San becoming less and less patient as time passes. The tension in their room grows every night, the space on the bed between them getting bigger and colder. Yet they somehow always wake up in each other’s arms.
And then they’re in Seoul, taking their shoes off in the hall of their dorm, the silence louder than ever before. Everyone else is out for drinks, but San is tipsy and bothered, because Wooyoung was way too friendly with the bartender, and the waiter, and clung to Mingi, and Yunho, and everyone but San.
“Why are you like this?” Wooyoung asks while unwrapping his arm from the grip San had on it, both of them walking towards San’s room. San takes off his jacket and pulls at the collar of his shirt, his neck red from the alcohol, then he starts pacing slowly, unable to make eye contact.
“Why are you like this?” He eventually asks back, standing a few feet away from Wooyoung, his posture defeated and gaze wondering. “Are you having fun?”
Finally, Wooyoung is getting under San’s skin. His sun-kissed, coated in a thin layer of sweat skin. Wooyoung is a bit tipsy. He wants to say that yes, he is having fun. He is having so much fun and nothing is wrong. He wants to rile San up until he physically turns green from jealousy and explodes. Except what he truly wants is to know what San is thinking and feeling. About him. About them.
Wooyoung lets out a heavy breath and sits down on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.
“Listen, we don’t have heart-to-hearts very often, but we both know our relationship, and how strong it is. We are members, best friends, brothers, soulmates, and I don’t doubt our bond. Not one bit. But we, hm…”
The mattress deepens beside him as San sits down. He’s looking at Wooyoung attentively and curiously, with those honest eyes that always stare so lovingly it has him at a loss of words. The dim light coming from the living room warmly washes over San’s face, the rest of the room dark.
“I wasn’t going to bring it up but friends don’t kiss or more, not like we do, and we have, multiple times. And each time we just go with the flow and never talk about it, which I understand. There is no need to make things more difficult than they already are, and no one needs to know. But I thought that somewhere between our wordless conversations, we were both aware of our not so ‘brotherly’ connection. So, whenever you deny it so strongly, even when it’s brought up jokingly, it doesn’t feel good. I don’t mind people thinking that we’re a couple, because people think we’re all dating each other anyway. It bothers me that it most definitely bothers you that we…that we might like each other,” Wooyoung lets it all out in one go, softly and carefully, trying to read San’s face once it’s over.
His expression changes as the last words come out, thick eyebrows furrowing. He swallows something, maybe his words, and looks down, playing with the ring on his thumb. Wooyoung wishes he could open up his skull to read the thoughts inside his head, but he waits silently.
“I was joking when I said th-”
“You know it’s not about that.”
San’s breath hitches, and then he gets stuck. The apartment gets so quiet that he can hear the fridge in the kitchen and the cars on the street. To be honest, San knows. He knows exactly what Wooyoung is talking about. But he hates the weight on his chest and the turmoil in his stomach at the slightest implication of that topic. Of his and Wooyoung’s lifelong-promised friendship falling apart and the possibility of him loving a man, romantically, and Wooyoung out of all men.
San has worked hard for years to change the world’s perception of him, not that it’s bad to be called, well, gay. But the environment San grew in made it feel like an insult. He wants to be masculine, for women, and sometimes for men too, but there is a significant gap between flirting with others and being in love with his best friend, who happens to be a man, in a society and career that is far from accepting. San has thought about this countless times, and his conclusion is always the same: it won’t work. Where they are right now is better and safer, from a long-term point-of-view.
“We can’t,” is all he can say, which is not even half as much as he could say.
“‘We can’t’ what?” Wooyoung pushes, and when San looks at him his face is contorted in a hurt expression. San closes his eyes.
“We can’t date.”
“Why?”
“Because we haven’t even started and it’s already an issue,” San says, quieter and faster, squeezing his eyes shut tighter, lips pursed.
Wooyoung is silent this time, for a while. San slowly opens his eyes and glances at him. Wooyoung’s face isn’t stiff anymore, melted into something between understanding, pity and sadness. His glance turns into a longing gaze, both of them lost in each other, the air quality lower than before. Wooyoung’s hand finds San’s face, cupping the side gently, but he doesn’t do anything, he just keeps it there. It’s enough to make San’s heart stutter.
“Then what should we do? Hm?” Wooyoung asks in such a gentle and comforting voice, that it almost sounds heartbreaking. His head tilts slightly with the questioning hum, eyebrows curving up, and San almost caves in. “Do we go on as everything that we are, and ignore the intimacy, jealousy, and growing feelings? I can do it. But I can only do it because I love you enough to be okay with anything as long as we grow old together and I have your mother’s home-cooked meals and stay your dad’s favorite second son,”
San’s chest starts hurting. He can imagine it, and it’s all that he’s ever wanted, but, he knows, there is going to be another ‘but’.
“But it will be painful, to know all along that it could be different. To watch you get married to a beautiful woman, who will never know you half as well as I do. To live happily because I have you, but miserably because not entirely. And maybe I am confused. Maybe it will go away. But I don’t want to regret not finding out,”
It’s the first time ever Wooyoung is flat-out confessing to him like this, roughly and openly, teary eyed. Every word hits San stronger each time, and by now he’s bruised all over, but surprisingly it doesn’t hurt. It’s quite, warm. Because in-between all of those words, Jung Wooyoung told him that he loves him, no, that he’s in love with him. And the worst part is that San relates to it all, which only means one thing. One thing that he’s too scared to admit. Unknowingly, his face is dampened with tears, tears that Wooyoung wipes away tenderly.
“Sorry,” San sniffles, moving his head away to wipe his face with his arm, refusing to look at Wooyoung. He doesn’t know if he’s apologizing for his tears or his silence.
Wooyoung breathes in sharply next to him.
“We can act like this conversation never happened,” Wooyoung says weakly, ready to get up and leave, but San holds him back, both hands wrapped around his arm. He should’ve never brought it up. Let alone say all of those things. It was supposed to be San talking, not him again.
“I’m scared, Wooyoung. It’s scarier to lose you than to have you partially. I know that if we date it won’t make much of a difference, we’ll be the same. But the world, our friends, and families, we’ll have to hide a part of us from them, and I don’t want to have to hide you. I want to show you proudly, without guilt or shame,” San finally speaks, looking up at Wooyoung in a way that only poets can describe, and painters can paint. Cinematically. He’s such a pretty crier.
Wooyoung wants to disagree and tell him that they won’t have to hide, but he knows that’s far from the truth. Maybe at one point they’ll have the liberty to let some people know. But would it change anything? If they still have to tone down the depth of their love for possibly eternity? Where do they go from here?
They dwell in the silence for a minute, then Wooyoung moves closer, straddling San’s lap, arms wrapping around his neck. San stares in his eyes, confused and in love, his arms instinctively finding home around Wooyoung’s waist. They both know that this won’t fix anything, but neither have the strength to come to a decision. Also, it’s been a while since they…
Wooyoung bends down slightly and finds San’s lips, fitting perfectly together. They kiss slowly, too slowly, their fear numbing down their movements and staggering their breaths. They’ve never kissed so intimately. Their feelings are overflowing through their open mouths, as they try to get closer, bodies clashing and aligning. And it all comes crashing down. The weeks, months, years, of wondering about and tiptoeing around it. The built up tension and jealousy, the teasing, the platonic yet not so platonic flirting, the magnetism of their bodies, it’s all coming together in the truth of their feelings. Of their love.
Their kisses get deeper, hastier, messier, and San’s back meets the mattress, pulling Wooyoung in with him. His hands slip under Wooyoung’s shirt, wandering on his skin, memorizing each curve and bone. Wooyoung’s hands slide down the width of San’s shoulders, nails grazing over his biceps.
The room is suddenly hotter and their clothes are tighter, stickier, bothersome. They come off one by one, clumsily, naturally, as if they’ve done this their whole lives. Layer by layer they get closer to each other, until Wooyoung is under San and they’re sweating as their bodies move together, Wooyoung’s hand on San’s lower back and San’s nose in the crook of Wooyoung’s neck. He takes in his scent and moans, head spinning. And all that he can think about is how good it feels and how it can’t be anyone else, ever.
“Is this all you got Mr. Close Friends?” Wooyoung edges him on, but it comes out weak and breathless, drowned in pleasure.
And now San knows why Wooyoung held a grudge for so long. Because this is not what close friends do. San makes sure to let him know through his body, giving both of them the closure they needed until their brains ran out of air, leaving them limbless and thoughtless in each other’s arms.
Wooyoung’s pupils are dark and blown out, his hair sticking wet to his forehead, skin glowing. They’re covered by a thin, cold bedsheet, only their tangled feet at the bottom of the bed. And Wooyoung hates to admit it, but this is exactly what he wanted. They can figure things out later, as long as San thinks before he speaks, and makes him see stars every now and then. It would be nice to go on a date, at some point, but now he is getting ahead of himself. Maybe they can talk about this again when they are less sleepy, more dressed, and fully sober. Or they can ignore it until the next tear-jerking argument. But it will be different, because now they’re both aware of their feelings for each other, so things are bound to change.
Wooyoung is excited. San is terrified. But it will work out somehow, as long as they’ve got each other.
“I meant it by the way,” Wooyoung murmurs, fingers drawing on San’s bare chest. “The tattoo. I want another one. Permanent, like us,”
The vibration of Wooyoung’s voice on San’s skin feels comforting, and so do his words.
“I’d do anything you ask me to,” San answers, then leaves a soft kiss on Wooyoung’s forehead, hugging him tighter.
“So, you will only do it because I say so? Not because you want to? So, you hate me?”
Ah, there it is. The Wooyoung he knows. San breathes out through his nose, amused, smiling and letting his chin rest on Wooyoung’s head.
“Eh? You’re not denying it? You were so fast to deny our dating rumours and now you’re speechle-”
San kisses him mute, grinning on his mouth.
It will be okay. It can work.