mentions of underage drinking & tw: self harm

* * *

It's dark. So dark Wooyoung has no idea where the hell he is, back pressed against something hard and wooden. His hands move about to get a feel of his surroundings, only to halt when he sees a slit of light sharply radiating from his right.

Wooyoung's about to press his eyes through the little opening the slit provides, but then stops as faint voices echo from the outside. They're indescernible at first, but as the seconds tick by they grow to be as familiar as they are haunting. He's suddenly aware he's in a closet, because he's been here before, hiding here as a way to pretend the acrid, destructive yells aren't getting to him.

Wooyoung's heart races as footsteps approach, heavy and filled with intent. Like the last time he'd been here, he knew it was most likely his father.

His eyes squeeze shut just as the closet doors start to rattle, bracing himself for the impact. But it never comes.

Instead, there's an arm around him, fingers caressing his hair. His face is held, the palm warm and gentle and safe, and Wooyoung looks up in the dark, San's recognizable features seen through the faint golden light.

San smiles at him, looking unreal yet not at the same time. And when he pulls Wooyoung in, his lips are a soothing comfort against his skin.

Wooyoung lets himself give in as San trails heated, eager kisses down his cheek and jaw, eventually landing on his neck. His breathing stutters roughly at the feel of the taller's silky mouth biting and sucking at his flesh, the sensation indescribably euphoric. As San moves lower, his teeth and wet tongue concentrated on Wooyoung's shoulder-blades, pleasure pools at the pit of his abdomen, chills rushing down his spine.

Wooyoung doesn't know when his shirt comes off, but when San's hot mouth bites and kisses across his flushed chest, he can't help the delighted moans that flutter out his lips and fill the atmosphere. He shudders, toes curling as the taller's thumb swipes over his hardened nipples, the other reaching further down to cup his ass. Wooyoung's head falls forward, breathy groans muffled within San's shoulder while the taller continues his quest on making him feel good.

He whines, loud and ecstatic at San's middle pushing itself against his, the pressure coiled at his stomach needing release. He feels so sensitive like this, eyes clenched shut as San's crotch ruts with his, hard and full and setting his nerves on fire.

Then San kisses him, wet and messy and invigorating, hands still kneading his ass and drowning him in inexplicable pleasure. His clothed length pressed onto Wooyoung's feels like heaven, and he doesn't want this to stop.

But then he wakes up.

Wooyoung almost can't believe it at first, but as his eyes take in his dim surroundings, the realization is as clear as can be. Fuck.

He's wrapped inside a red blanket that isn't his, and slowly sits upright, head hurting as he blinks at the phone's stupid alarm blaring through the frigid air. He quickly turns it off and sighs, trying to come to terms with the dream he'd had of San without feeling an ounce of shame.

It'd felt so realistic too, so much so that Wooyoung can still feel the taller's mouth on his chest and hands on his behind, his sweltering touches like magic. Wooyoung grapples with discomfort at having that sort of dream, and wishing it was real at the same time. Then his mother's face flashes in his head, and he tenses at what she'll think if she knew what he's been doing with San and what he's just dreamt of.

He wants to go back to sleep, wants to forget about this entire ordeal but then his member aches under the bed covers, stiff and begging to be satiated. Before he starts thinking about San again and makes things much worse for himself, Wooyoung rolls off the bed and heads for the bathroom, the tiles cold against the soles of his feet.

He flips open the faucet, ready to cleanse his face and mind, and hopefully reduce the tenderness he feels down there, when he sees a dark spot on the curve of his neck. Multiple dark spots, in fact.

Hands trembling as he flicks on the lights, Wooyoung shouts at the sheer amount of red marks tainting his shoulder. He panics and lifts up his shirt, heart pumping to his throat when he sees even more on his upper chest, too befuddled and scared to notice he's still wearing San's clothes.

Wooyoung's seen too many of them on TV to not know what they are. Hickeys. And that means someone had put them there, and he'd fucking let them. He wants to crush his hand from how stupid and reckless he is.

Dashing into his bedroom and snatching the phone, he hurriedly dials San's number and waits, heart pounding against his chest like a drum. He nearly bites his thumb raw just as the call goes through, rustling on the other line.

"...Hello?" A voice starts, throaty and deep from sleep. "Wooyoung?"

Wooyoung's insane anxiety draws a blank in his head at first, but then he regains the ability to speak. "S-San, oh my god."

"Are you okay?" San asks, worried.

"I'm not, I'm not," Wooyoung chants, pacing around his room.

"What happened? Are you having trouble sleeping?"

Wooyoung can't believe the guy acts like he doesn't know why he called him so early in the morning. "It's not that, San. I woke up, went to the bathroom and saw freaking hickeys on my body. Everywhere. And I -- I need to know why they're there."

There's a pause on the other line, and then an audible 'Shit'.

"Did you put them there?" Wooyoung questions.

"I..." San exhales. "I did."

"Why?" Wooyoung cries. He can't remember a thing after him and San ate pizza and watched a movie at his place yesterday, and now he fears something even worse might've taken place.

"It just happened," San explains, sincerity laced in his tone. "Yeosang had drinks that evening. You said you wanted to try, and in the heat of the moment I took some too. And then..."

Pain sears the back of Wooyoung's head as images of him on San's bed, the other crawling on top of him enter his mind, a hazy cacophony of colours. San's lips on his while his hands fist themselves in San's dark hair.

Wooyoung cringes, embarrassment slipping into his core. "We made out."

"Yes," San says, the words quiet. "You said you wanted to know how hickeys felt, and I just... You were too irresistible to ignore. I couldn't not do it -- "

"You shouldn't have done it," Wooyoung cuts in, voice smeared with apprehension. "What -- what if my mom saw but didn't say anything? What if I get in trouble with her and those marks don't fade away by tomorrow? What do I fucking do, San?"

"Wooyoung, stop it," San commands, concern prevalent in his tone. "Nothing bad is going to happen, okay? Just relax."

"You seemed to have forgotten my mother lives with me," Wooyoung replies, unable to hide just how frustrated he feels. "What if she's already seen those marks? In fact, I bet she already has and is just waiting for daybreak to interrogate me about it."

"Your mom won't do that," San says, voice ever so patient. "She won't interrogate you. You and I both know she loves you too much to hate you because of something like this."

"She's religious, San," Wooyoung presses, biting his nail again. "Of course she'll hate me eventually. I can't let her see this."

San sighs. "She didn't see it, because I told Yunho not to let her."

Wooyoung freezes. "Yunho?"

"Yeah. I couldn't drive you back because of the alcohol, so I made you call Yunho to take you home." San takes a pause. "I told him to cover you up with my blanket and convince your mom you were cold or something."

It's then Wooyoung sees it: him in San's arms as San converses with Yunho. Even with the incongruous memory, the tension between them is palpable. He knows how Yunho already feels about San, and seeing him tipsy with hickeys on his neck probably made his opinion a whole lot worse.

"Fuck," Wooyoung swears out loud, freaking out.

"Hey, Wooyoung," San rushes to reassure him, "it's gonna be fine."

"No it's not."

"Yunho is your friend," San tells him. "He's not going to hate you because of what happened last night. And neither will your mom, because they care about you. I care about you."

"But..."

"We kissed," San continues, "and it's not a big deal. There's no need to freak out or feel guilty for doing something that makes you feel good. No need to feel ashamed. I'd do it again with you in a heartbeat, as long as you want me to."

Wooyoung's heart finally slows, and he tells himself that San is right. "Really?"

"Yes, really." San sounds like he's smiling.

"I'm sorry for messing with your sleep."

"It's alright," San says. "Hey, I'm going to video call you right now."

The words catch Wooyoung by surprise. "What? Wait -- "

But San soon requests to see him on video, and though it's mostly dark, it takes a moment for him to put on his glasses and accept.

San's face flashes on the screen, shoulders bare and hair messy from sleep. Wooyoung can't help the butterflies in his tummy at seeing the guy shirtless.

San cards his fingers through his hair, eyes darker in this light. They take him in. "Hi."

Wooyoung can't ignore how intimate this feels. "Hey."

"Go to the nightstand, and pull out the first drawer."

Confused, Wooyoung obeys, pausing at the sight of tubes he hasn't seen before.

"They're primer and concealer," San reveals when Wooyoung shows them to him. "Told your friend Yunho to put them in there so you could cover those hickeys up whenever you need to. We're around the same shade, so."

Wooyoung can't take how considerate San is at times, and now is one of those times. "Thank you."

"D'you know how to apply them?" San asks, his handsome features extremely distracting.

"Not really."

"It's no problem. I'll show you how to right now," San says. "Ms Jung is asleep, right?"

Wooyoung gulps. "Um, yeah. She gets up at seven to get ready for church and stuff."

San nods, then he moves and disappears out the frame, undoubtedly looking for something. In a minute the lights are on and he's back, his muscular build as apparent as his grey pants hanging low on his torso.

He leans into his pillow, hair falling to his eyes.

"Can you see me? I can't really risk waking mom up," Wooyoung states, flustered under San's attention.

"Mhm, I can." San says. "But sit down. I want to see you properly."

"Okay," Wooyoung listens, positioning his phone in a way that won't let it fall. "Is this good?"

"Perfect." San leans in. "Take off your shirt. I need to see those hickeys."

San is only helping me. This is nothing sexual, Wooyoung repeats to himself like a mantra, a little self-conscious when he pulls his (San's) shirt over his head. If someone had told him he'd end up lowkey stripping in front of San on video earlier, he would never have believed them. Mostly because getting shirtless for anyone was seen as an unattainable feat just a month ago.

San observes the bruises on his neck and chest, eyes unreadable. Wooyoung can't help but wonder if he finds them repulsive. "Can you open the primer? It's the green one."

Wooyoung does as he asks.

"Squeeze some on your fingers," San instructs. "Follow my hand movements."

Wooyoung's fingers lightly tremble as the primer cools them, and he swallows thickly as San starts slowly rubbing into his neck. Willing away the dream he'd had of San, Wooyoung copies him.

"It's reducing already," San praises, "good job."

Wooyoung smiles, a bit awkward. "Thanks."

Then San drifts down to his chest, and things become a little harder. "Rub all the affected areas. The green offsets the red and balances it out."

Wooyoung shakily nods, avoiding the taller's eyes like the plague as he applies the primer wherever the hickeys are. It's not his fault; San's stares are way too passionate.

"You're doing so well, Wooyoung," San comments, smiling at him. "Take the concealer then dab it over those marks. They should disappear now."

Wooyoung presses the concealer over the first few hickeys, the tips of his ears hot at San's eyes so obviously trained on his body. He sees himself at the bottom right corner, relieved the marks seem to finally be dissolving.

"Good boy," San beams.

"I never knew I was a dog," Wooyoung answers, caught off-guard.

San chuckles, husky and intoxicating. "Okay, my bad. How about 'baby'?"

Wooyoung's pulse speeds up at first, but then relaxes when he realizes San is joking. "...Do you call your partners baby?"

San tilts his head, smile fading off. "People I sleep with? No."

"But you have dated people before, right?" Wooyoung doesn't know why he can't just let it go, thank the guy and go to sleep, but he can't shake off San being so aloof about this subject.

"Does it matter?" San asks after a moment of silence.

"It kinda does," Wooyoung says, pulling on his shirt to pretend he's totally fine. "To me, at least. You just called me baby but then you're like, 'don't fall for me'."

"Are you mad?"

"No, I'm not," Wooyoung tells him. "I just need you to be honest with me."

San sighs, looking very much like the guy Wooyoung knew before they became friends. "Yes, I've dated people. But I've never felt anything for them. Never called them 'baby' either."

"What...what about me, then?" Wooyoung inquires, wanting to know. "Do you feel something for me?"

Do you have feelings for me?

A cautious look shadows San's face, like he's fearful of upsetting him. "You mean a whole lot to me."

Wooyoung inhales, but it's hard to breathe properly when his lungs feel like they've been crushed in. Why'd you have to ask San that when you knew you wouldn't like the answer? You idiot.

"Please don't cry, Wooyoung," San's saying, pleading with him even. He looks so freaking worried. Apologetic. "I just want you to be happy."

"I'm not crying," Wooyoung doesn't mean to snap. In a more amicable tone, he adds, "I just wanted some honesty, and you gave it to me. I have to go now."

San nods, but he still looks overly careful with him. "Alright, Wooyoung. Sleep well. I'm here for you always."

The call cuts, and Wooyoung gathers everything and dumps it on the nightstand. He falls into his bed a second later, and his facade of indifference breaks.

His bottom lip wobbles, and his eyes overflow with tears. But he won't let them fall.

Stuff like hand holding, kissing and the like. Mingi's voice resounds in his mind, loud and daunting. Cause if he's doing all that while saying he isn't into you, then he most likely is just using you, Woo...

Wooyoung pinches the skin of his left hand to dull out the pain.

- wooyoung
dont know if ur awake rn
but thanks for bringing me home yunho

- wooyoung
and maybe you were right about san all along and|

Wooyoung backspaces the second text until nothing remains of it. San's never treated him badly, or made him feel like shit for liking something, and Wooyoung just can't ignore that because of how terrible he feels right now.

To his surprise, Yunho types back.

- yunho 🐶
its alright woo
surprisingly your mom never questioned a thing

- yunho 🐶
i just need to ask u something

- wooyoung
what

- yunho 🐶
whats going on between u and san??

- yunho 🐶
you had hickeys on ur neck and all
thought u said u guys were just friends

Wooyoung doesn't want to talk about this right now.

- wooyoung
we are

- yunho 🐶
then why did he kiss you

- wooyoung
because i asked him to
i wanted him to

Yunho doesn't text back immediately.

- yunho 🐶
wooyoung
are u sure u know what youre doing?

- yunho 🐶
hes not a good person
i dont want him hurting u

- wooyoung
i'll ttyl yunho

- yunho 🐶
are u okay?

- wooyoung
i am, but i need to sleep rn

Wooyoung eventually switches off his phone, way too tired to bother putting it on the nightstand.

Are you sure you know what you're doing? Yunho's question echoes in his head. Oddly enough, it helps Wooyoung's thoughts get a little clearer.

San likes him. A lot, Wooyoung is pretty sure. Though San doesn't seem all that interested in dating and other romantic things couples do, he still always tries to help Wooyoung. He enjoys his company and loves it when they're physically close.

And that should be enough for Wooyoung. That can be enough for him.

* * *

a/n: thoughts?