* * *

Wooyoung doesn't know how he looks at this moment, but guessing by the expression on San's face, it probably isn't anything good.

In fact, San looks as distraught as he feels, and fuck, Wooyoung hates himself for dragging San into this catastrophe.

"Wooyoung?" His mother calls out for the second time, knocking on the door again. "Are you asleep, dear?"

"What do I do?" San mouths, but Wooyoung's already rushed off his bed, buttoning up his shirt again. If this wasn't happening right now he'd be reeling over this moment, wondering if he'd just dreamt up the Choi San touching and stimulating him like how he just did. But his mother's on the other side of the door, and he cannot let her know just how close he'd been to making out with a boy.

San leaves the bed too, concern etched into his features as Wooyoung switches on the lights, rips open his school bag and scatters a few notebooks across the bed.

"I'm here, mom," he then utters, clearing his throat and opening the door. In his urge to appear normal and totally like he hasn't just done something inappropriate, he'd completely forgotten about the hickeys on San's neck and shoulders. And judging by how San's eyes largen, he did too.

"Oh." Wooyoung's mom startles at seeing a stranger in her son's room, her aged eyes sparkling with surprise. She most likely missed seeing his shoes by the door and the helmet. "I haven't seen you before."

San straightens, and Wooyoung curses himself to hell and back for not thinking of covering the taller's neck with a scarf or something.

"That's Choi San. He's a classmate," Wooyoung proceeds to make up an explanation. His hands grow clammy when his mother's eyes definitely narrow in on San's neck. "He knew I was a bit sick, so decided to bring me the homework. But then it rained so I had to give him a change of clothes. We were working on it before you came. Only working."

"Alright, Wooyoung," his mother says, distractedly smoothing down the auburn strands of her bun. "And nice to meet you, San."

"Nice to meet you, Ms Jung," San answers, forcing on a smile. Wooyoung has never seen him look so awkward.

And unfortunately for them, Ms Jung is looking at those hickeys again.

Wooyoung attempts distracting her as he places what he hopes is a comforting hand on her shoulder. "How was work, mom? Hope it wasn't too stressful. You can tell me all about it in the living room."

But his mother doesn't budge. "Are those your clothes in the dryer?" She asks, addressing San.

San, on the other hand, casts a brief panicked look Wooyoung's way. "Um, yes, Ms Jung. Wooyoung helped me take them off."

Ms Jung's eyebrows jump.

San fidgets at his mistake while Wooyoung wants to throw himself off a cliff. "I mean -- he let me use the shower."

"I did," Wooyoung cuts in, leaning closer to his mother to whisper in her ear. "Please cut it out with the glares, mom. You're making my friend very uncomfortable."

"I apologize if you got put off by my stares San," Ms Jung clarifies, not wanting to upset Wooyoung. She doesn't like upsetting anyone in general, either. "Sometimes I can look a bit harsh when I have a stressful day at work."

San looks a little more relaxed, like he fully understands where the woman's coming from. "It's alright."

"I know it's getting a bit late, but would you like to stay for some dinner? With how much it rained earlier, you should eat something warm." Yet another glance at San's neck.

"A skin condition," he suddenly says.

"Oh dear," Ms Jung says, tone sympathetic. Wooyoung can't believe his ears. "Is it painful?"

"Not really, miss. But I'd love to stay for dinner," San walks up to her, a smile so sugary sweet on his face. "You just came home from work, so I'd like to help in any way I can."

"Really? That's wonderful," Wooyoung's mother answers, and Wooyoung isn't sure if he's just entered some alternate reality or not. "Let me just get changed and we'll make the food."

Before long, she's gone, and San heaves a gigantic sigh of relief.

"A skin condition," Wooyoung repeats. He bites his fist to subdue his laughter.

"What? Plus, your mom's a nurse but she believed me. Want it to be contagious?" San is amused too, and then to Wooyoung's utmost shock, hits his bum.

"Sorry!" San immediately apologizes, terrified by his own actions. "I um, have this friend I stay with and we pat each other's butts sometimes for like, reassurance and -- "

Wooyoung slaps his butt too, something compelling him to do it again. He grins at San's flabbergasted face, liking that for once, he's the one stunned to silence. "Don't mess with me, Choi."

San quickly corners him however. His hand tickles as it trails down Wooyoung's back, about to smack his behind for revenge when Wooyoung's mother asks for them.

They separate, but Wooyoung can't stop thinking about how much fun he's having. He hasn't even properly hugged his mom in years, yet he feels fine with San touching his butt.

It's like San becomes a totally different person around Ms Jung. The air of confidence he usually carries is still there, but how he looks much more... carefree. Vulnerable, even. He hangs on to her every word, flashing her award-winning dimpled smiles whenever she thanks him for his help.

Wooyoung never knew the day would come where he'd feel jealous of his own mother. He's on cleaning duty, and although he likes that his mom's starting to warm up to San (skin condition and all), he realizes he's a sucker for San's attention. In fact, he craves it.

"How are you getting home?" Ms Jung asks San as the baked mac and cheese, and chicken they prepared gradually gets ready in the oven. "Do you want me to drive you?"

"No, that's okay." San moves to stand beside Wooyoung. His hand falls on the shorter's back, shy at first. "I brought a motorbike."

"Isn't that a little dangerous for you?"

San's hand inches higher, and Wooyoung holds his breath, hoping his mother won't notice. "It's safe for me, ma'am. I'm very careful."

When Ms Jung turns to check the oven Wooyoung tries to pinch San but fails. Which leads to San slapping his ass again, to his horror.

Wooyoung's mother doesn't make a comment, or just doesn't think much of it, and in a short while the food is ready.

After taking out the plates and utensils, San pulls out a chair for the woman.

What the hell? Wooyoung will pretend tonight is just a fever dream. He ignores the taller's obvious butt-kissing, and goes for the drinks. His mom says a short prayer after, and then starts to dish out the food.

San inhabits the closest possible seat to Wooyoung, and Wooyoung's too giddy by the taller's proximity to stay irate at him.

San thanks his mother when his plate is filled, and Wooyoung thinks today has the most amount of times San has openly shown his gratitude. Half of him wants to be annoying and tease him for it later, but the way San looks so genuine and open with his mom makes him rethink his plan altogether. Now that he ponders on it, Wooyoung's never really heard San mention his parents -- even in passing.

"You're so kind, San," Ms Jung states, pointedly staring Wooyoung's way afterwards. "My son barely has time to eat with me for dinner. He's always at Yunho's place."

Wooyoung stares at his silver fork, pretending it's the most interesting thing he's ever seen. He wishes San isn't here right now to witness his mother embarrassing him like crazy. "Mmh. This food tastes so good, mom. You're always the best at cooking."

"You haven't eaten anything," Ms Jung argues.

San hides his snicker behind his palm, and Wooyoung doesn't regret kicking him under the table. The guy doesn't even bother to look pained; he tears off a bit of mac and cheese from Wooyoung's plate and chews it in front of him, smirking.

"Ooh, this is delicious. Tastes even better when the food isn't mine," San sings, his smile bright and lovely. He looks so dissimilar to how he behaves at school that it becomes glaringly obvious which side of him is just him playing a character.

Wooyoung never lets himself dwell too much on the thought. "If I steal yours too will you get mad?"

San's as chill as ever. "No, go ahead."

Ms Jung watches them with a smile. "Say, San?"

San quickly turns around to show he's listening. "Yeah, Ms Jung?"

"Are you also one of Yunho's friends? Wooyoung knew him first, and then I got introduced to Mingi later."

San's smile lessens, but it doesn't fully disappear. "Nah. Wooyoung and I were assigned a group project and we started hanging out."

"What kind of group project?"

Wooyoung nearly spits out his juice. "Biology!" He interrupts before San says something that ruins tonight.

"Never knew you took that class."

Well I never knew it too until now, Wooyoung thinks. "Yeah, I do. And San's there too." He pats the aforementioned male's back, his nervousness a stark contrast to San's humoured expression.

Fortunately, Wooyoung's mother believes him. The rest of the dinner goes smoothly, and when Wooyoung is done folding San's clothes and obtains his bike's keys, he hears hushed voices coming from the kitchen area.

Neither Ms Jung nor San notice him as he tiptoes to press himself against the corridor, attempting to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Oh, dear. First?"

"First home-cooked meal in a while, yeah."

"Come back any time you're free, then," Wooyoung's mother replies. "If Wooyoung isn't around by six we'll just have dinner together."

"Thank you for the offer." But San also sounds quite unsure. "And Wooyoung, he's..."

Wooyoung stiffens where he stays, and with bated breaths waits for San to continue whatever he plans on saying. But for a moment, all he hears is nothing.

Then he's looking at purple fabric and realizes San's in front of him now. Behind him is his mother, casually taking a new sip of the fruit juice she'd brought.

"Thanks," San's voice pulls Wooyoung back to the present. He takes his clothes from the shorter's hands and goes to the bathroom to change. As soon as he disappears down the corridor, Wooyoung rushes to where his mother stands.

"What did he tell you?" He questions, sounding a little too desperate for his liking.

"So you were listening in on us," Ms Jung guesses.

"No I wasn't." At the pointed glare the woman shoots him, Wooyoung's shoulders hunch in defeat. "Okay fine. I was."

"San was just thanking me for the meal," his mom answers, finishing up her drink. She stills, thinking over something before setting her glass on the table. "I also know those are hickeys on his neck, but purposefully never said anything."

Wooyoung fiddles with his shirt, which is a bad, bad move because now he's imagining San's hands on him again. He wants to give a totally pg explanation as to why San's skin is filled with love bites but his mother stops him with a single inquiry.

"Does he have a girlfriend?"

"Mom." Wooyoung's too stunned to say anything else. What if San hears her? And, what if he does have a girlfriend? He's heard all about San's open sexual endeavors, but no one's ever said he only prefers one gender.

His heart sinks at the possibility of San cheating on his partner for him, and even lower at the possible chance that the taller's taken. But then again, he doesn't even know if what he and San did counts as anything sexual -- but then again, the way San held him earlier tonight seemed everything but platonic.

"San," Ms Jung utters right that second, and anxiety that really shouldn't be there consumes Wooyoung the minute San strolls out in his original outfit. "Going home now?"

For some reason, San stares at him before meeting his mother's eyes. "Yeah. Uh, thank you so much again for tonight."

"Oh please," but Ms Jung beams at San, and Wooyoung should be happy. He should be happy today didn't go south and his mom never overreacted, but he can't stop thinking about his mother's words and what he and San engaged in. "I'm happy you stopped by, even if it was to give Wooyoung his homework."

At this, San looks at him again, a smile one can only describe as tender enveloping his face. But Wooyoung breaks the eye contact, and awkwardly clears his throat. He doesn't have to watch San to feel the confusion radiating off of him.

Ms Jung, however, is none the wiser. "Have a safe trip back home, dear. Is your house far from here?"

"Yeah." San takes his helmet from the sofa and slips his feet into his shoes. It doesn't help how good he looks like this, his grungy outfit stretched over his lean body like second skin. "But I'll be alright, ma'am."

Wooyoung wants to turn on his heel and head for his room, but a hand on his wrist stops him.

"Can we talk outside?" San suggests, but his tone leaves no room for excuses. So Wooyoung listens and walks with the taller until he reaches his motorcycle.

San's fingers drum impatiently over the surface of his matte helmet. His jaw's set and lips pressed in a harsh line, but his eyes are overwhelmingly honest. "I'd ask if you're mad at something I did, but I already know the answer. So, what did I do?"

Wooyoung shoves his hands into his pockets, kicking at the few pebbles that cast shadows underneath the orange streetlights. "It's...not something you did."

San doesn't talk for a couple seconds. Then, he hops on his bike and pats his thigh. "Come sit."

Wooyoung's eyes almost pop out of their sockets. He stares at his house to see if his mother isn't lingering by the windows, relieved she isn't. "San, no."

San tilts his head, not getting his point. "Why?"

"Because I don't want to sit on your lap!" Wooyoung whisper-yells. "I don't want to do anything with you until -- until I know why you agreed to touch me in the first place."

San frowns, and it shouldn't look this sexy. Wooyoung's trying to stay angry, goddammit. "You said you wanted me to help you."

"Yeah, well," Wooyoung grumbles, "you kept going at it and looked like you were into it. I-In fact, you looked like you enjoyed it."

San lets out a dry laugh. "And what if I did?"

Wooyoung's pulse quickens. "W-What?"

"Look, Wooyoung," San begins, moving closer until their noses faintly brush. "I did enjoy it. I enjoyed it because you did. I was just helping you out -- wanted to make you more comfortable with touches -- and I'm sorry if you thought it meant something more than that."

Ouch. Wooyoung's gaze falls to the ground. He wants it to eat him up. "I -- I wasn't trying to say that."

"Then what were you trying to say?"

"Nothing!" Wooyoung barks, his outburst shocking San. "I was trying to say nothing, okay? Nothing, nothing, nothing. Goodnight."

He turns around and jogs back to his home before he does anything stupid in front of San like cry, or something.

Surprisingly, he doesn't cry, or feel anything really -- that is until he walks into his bedroom and sees the clothes he lent San neatly placed on his bed.

His heart throbs as if it's been shot through, and before he knows it, he's shimmying out of his clothes and pulling them on.

If this were any other time, he'd hate himself for being so obsessed and creepy, but not tonight. Instead, he places a hand on his chest and imagines it's San's hand holding him. He tries to copy what he saw the taller do, but it isn't the same. San's the one who knows just what to do to make him feel in ways he's never had.

Wooyoung gives up and, after packing his books for tomorrow, enters his bed and tries to let sleep smother him.

After maybe two hours of twisting and turning, Wooyoung switches on his phone to distract himself. His thumbs decide to have a mind of their own, bringing him back to his and San's chats again.

San hasn't read his latest messages (which makes sense), but he has changed his contact photo.

He's outdoors and under the glow of the sun, his beach blond hair a vivid contrast to the stark blue sky. Wooyoung never knew he used to have blond hair.

Maybe Yunho and Mingi are right. Wooyoung's hands shake as he admires the picture, much too afraid to message the person on it.

San hasn't done anything wrong, he realizes. It's all his fault for believing for a moment that San -- the guy known by all for being a fuckboy -- could return whatever he's undoubtedly starting to feel for him.

* * *

a/n: thoughts?

and, happy valentine's day ❤