* * *

Yunho's with Mingi at the front of the gates, green paint streaked across their outfits signifying they've gotten caught. Wooyoung forces his expression to remain neutral as he approaches them, but San puts a hand on his shoulder right then.

"I'm not gonna stay here while you talk it out with him," San tells Wooyoung, his eyes holding this level of maturity the shorter hasn't gotten used to yet. "I can't, anyway. My mom needs me."

Wooyoung nods, the flicker of courage inside him bringing their pinkies together, the touch private and brief but conveying all that needs to be said. "Hope you have a safe trip back, San."

San smiles, but it fades out when they catch Mingi and Yunho watching from the gates.

They walk out together, San making it known he has to leave before things get even more tense.

"Alright," Mingi answers, looking genuinely bummed. "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight," San wishes him too, locking eyes with Wooyoung one last time and then driving off on his bike.

No one talks for a minute, the chatter and squeals from the manor like background noise, but eventually, Wooyoung has to be the one who breaks it.

"I told San about what you said, Yunho," he addresses the taller. "About the guy San hooked up with."

Yunho's gaze doesn't reveal a thing, eyes unnervingly blank. "And what did he say?"

"He said he did say all those things," Wooyoung continues, barely managing to keep his emotions intact, "but only because the guy called him derogatory terms first and insulted his family."

"Really?" Mingi voices out, facing Yunho with widened eyes.

Yunho's eyes darken, but his expression doesn't falter. "And you believe him?"

"Of course I do," Wooyoung snaps, heartbeat pounding in his ears. "He's never giving me a reason not to. And you know what's even crazier?"

Mingi glances his way, noticeably petrified at how things are escalating. "...Wooyoung? What's going on?"

"You're the guy, Yunho," Wooyoung continues. "That's why you kept talking shit about San and tried so hard to belittle him in front of Mingi and I. He said you knew you both were just hooking up from the start, but clearly you're still butt-hurt about it."

Mingi looks shaken. "Yunho, is this true?"

Yunho's jaw clenches. "It doesn't matter whatever I say because it's fucking obvious you two are convinced that San is the good guy. I've been trying my best not to get you involved with him, Wooyoung, because he will never like you back -- at least not in the way you like him. He'll only get your heart broken in the end, but you're too freaking dense to realize that."

"Yunho, stop it!" Mingi yells. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"It's none of your business what's going on between us," Wooyoung says, nails forming indents in his skin that'll draw blood if he isn't careful. He's shaking, heart crushed and lungs struggling for air. He's lost control of all his emotions. "San likes me, and I like him too. H-He fucking cares about me and just because you think he doesn't, doesn't mean it's true. He's been such a good friend to me, so just shut up if you have nothing nice to say about him."

Yunho's air of indifference finally cracks, a sliver of concern slipping through. "I just want to protect you, Woo."

"You've done enough," Mingi tells him, alarmed when Wooyoung suddenly stumbles back, the heels of his hands digging into his face. "Wooyoung?"

Wooyoung can't stop the first teardrop that rolls down his cheek, shoulders trembling as he sniffs, each inhale weighing a ton.

Mingi rushes towards him, hand on his back, but his touch only brings more tears that stream down Wooyoung's face, unrelenting. His heart fucking aches.

"Fuck," Mingi swears, tone leaden with compassion. He keeps patting Wooyoung's back, supporting his weight so he won't fall. "It's going to be okay, Woo. Everything is going to be fine. I'm here."

Wooyoung hears him loud and clear, but the tears won't stop. Yunho's words drilled a hole in his heart that he'd been so desperately trying to fill up, to forget. Now he's back to feeling insecure, to feeling like a fool chasing after a guy that doesn't like him the way he does.

His lips quiver as he sniffs once more, his stupid tears getting on his glasses and making a mess out of everything. Stupid, stupid mess. How can San even like you when you're like this?

"I'm so sorry, Wooyoung." It's Yunho that's speaking now, but Wooyoung just wants him to shut up.

"We're taking you back home, alright?" Mingi quickly adds not to make Wooyoung more upset. He strokes Wooyoung's hair. "And I'll get you rested for the night. Try not to think about anything, hm? You're gonna be fine."

Wooyoung nods, his tongue far too heavy to form any words. Mingi's arms warm him up as they enter Yunho's car, but it's nothing compared to the way he feels when San holds him.

On cue, his eyes glimmer with unshed tears, fogging up his vision. He hastily wipes them away and peers out the window, wondering how in the world tonight ended so badly.

Mingi brings Wooyoung inside after they get to his house, too worried about him to care what Ms Jung would think about his outfit.

The woman isn't focused on that either, especially after seeing the state of her son.

"Did something happen?" She asks Wooyoung, eyes frantic, but he can't bring himself to reply.

"He's just feeling a little tired, Ms Jung," Mingi answers for him, even when they both know the excuse isn't that convincing. "I'll help him wash off the paint and get him tucked into bed."

The woman doesn't leave their side though as Wooyoung gets freshened up and doesn't look as dehydrated anymore. His eyes no longer sting with tears, his throat not as parched after barely downing the glass of water his mother poured for him.

As Wooyoung lies on his bed dressed head to toe in one of his favourite pyjamas, staring at the ceiling, he hears his mom thanking Mingi for his help outside the door.

Expressing his feelings is already hard, even more so when he's just cried his heart out because of something Yunho -- the guy who's supposed to be his friend -- said tonight. The words prick his chest as he thinks about them over and over again, falling deeper into a self-deprecating hole.

Wooyoung remains in the same position until the door opens once more, his mother stepping in.

Right then, he feels her fingers in his hair, reassuring and comforting.

"I don't want to pry," she begins, and Wooyoung can feel her looking at him though his eyes are shut. "But...did something happen at that hide and seek game you played?"

"...Maybe." Wooyoung cringes at how groggy and weak he sounds. His face feels hot and swollen, and his hands fist the bedspread, itching for something to hit.

"Was it between you and San?"

Wooyoung thinks back to when him and San had been under that bed together, their legs brushing and hands not too far off either. San had always listened to his rambles -- even from the start -- his smiles easy and laughter sweet whenever Wooyoung was concerned. He felt San liked him, knew it even, so why can't Yunho's words just leave his head?

San will never like you back.

"Did you two have a fight?" Ms Jung questions, tone sympathetic. Wooyoung really appreciates her presence, he really does, but he just needs to be alone right now. He needs to sleep this terrible day off once and for all, and maybe if he believes it enough, tonight will turn out to be some twisted, horrid halloween nightmare.

"We didn't," Wooyoung breathes, eyes still squeezed shut. "We never fought. I'm just sleepy."

"That's relieving, honey," his mother reveals. "Because I can tell that boy likes you so much. Your friendship means a lot to him."

Dread poisons Wooyoung's veins, the lump in his throat threatening to suffocate him to bits. There's nothing he wants more right now than for San to be here with him. For his arms to hold him close as he kisses the top of his head and tells him that things are going to be alright. Wooyoung wants that so badly, even when the guilt of thinking about him in this way drowns him under like quicksand, never to let him see the light of day again.

He just wants San right now.

Before the tears can make another appearance, Wooyoung bites down his lip and nods. He doesn't want to say anything for fear of breaking into tears in front of his mother, and fortunately, the woman is receptive to this.

"Have a good night, Wooyoung," she pats his shoulder. After a moment's hesitation, she kisses his forehead, her lips cool against his flushed skin. "Sweet dreams."

Wooyoung nods again (he can't fucking talk at this moment, he realizes), and as soon as the bedroom door clicks shut, wetness cascades down his face, dampening his pillow. He flips on his side, sniffling under the bedspread as his nose is stuffed. Each breath hurts, caging him from the inside out, the butterflies in his stomach transforming into terrible wasps that make him feel sick. He feels like throwing up.

* * *

Morning arrives with crisp air and birds happily chirping outside Wooyoung's window, and he almost wants to shoot them down one by one for being so loud that they woke him up.

His curtains are still drawn, but the sun's peachy rays peek through and irritate his shut, swollen eyes. His cheeks are disgustingly tear-stained, and his mouth and throat are so dry he thinks he maybe swallowed sand earlier.

Wooyoung doesn't know how long he resides inside his bed for, but when the door opens and he hears his mother's footsteps, he guesses it must be around breakfast time.

"Goodmorning, Wooyoung." Something settles on the nightstand. "Hope you had a good night's rest. Can you sit up? You need to eat."

Wooyoung's bleary eyes creak open at the mention of food, the ceiling and windows a blur of images until his glasses are handed over to him. Hot toast wafts in the air, appetizing and making his stomach lowly rumble. As he rubs out the crust from his eyes and sets up the glasses, a tall, cold glass of orange juice is passed to him.

"I can tell you're thirsty," his mother says, already in her nurse attire. Guilt festers in Wooyoung's gut again at seeing her make a whole breakfast for him when she has to go to work.

"Thank you," he tells her, taking a hearty sip of the juice. It definitely helps replenish his throat. "I'm sorry I stopped you from heading to work on time."

"I'm still going to be on time, though," his mom says. "But even if I was going to be late, you're my first priority always."

Wooyoung remembers that time he and San had video-chatted, how San said his mother wouldn't hate him for what he did because she loved him too much to do so. Wooyoung believed the taller then, and he tries to believe him now. But Wooyoung knows he's gay (San already made it super clear for him), and he knows if she finds out and hates him for it, it will absolutely kill him.

Too tired to let his thoughts consume him, he grabs a piece of toast and chomps down on it with more force than necessary. It certainly takes his mom aback, but then she chuckles, already more than used to her son's questionable antics.

"There's more toast in the kitchen if you get hungry again, as well as some leftover noodles," she relays, squeezing Wooyoung's shoulder as he spreads a bit of butter over the next slice of toast. "Sure you'll be alright on your own?"

Wooyoung nods, feeling very much like a puppet on strings. "Yeah. Sometimes I think you forget I'm turning eighteen this month."

"No matter how old you get," Ms Jung pinches his cheek, to his dismay, "you'll always be my baby."

"My face, it huuurts," Wooyoung exclaims like the dramatic being he is, but when the woman laughs at his staged outburst, he allows himself to crack a smile as well. He may still feel like utter shit, and may still be nervous as hell about telling his mom who he really likes, but he convinces himself today will be fine.

His bedroom reeks of heartbreak and desperation, so when Ms Jung leaves Wooyoung moves into the living room, managing to balance both his tray of food and his phone without letting either of them drop as he plops himself into the sofa.

Nose still quite stuffed, he rubs it and switches on his phone, immediately bombarded by text messages from Mingi, Yunho, and...San.

He decides to go for Mingi's first.

- minmin
hope youre feeling better by the time youre reading this

- minmin
know its easier said than done but dont let yunho's words get to u
his relationship with san isnt like yours and will never be
(sent today 5:15 am)

- wooyoung
thanks
and yeah,, i feel a little better now

Knowing Mingi won't read this now because he likes sleeping in whenever he has the chance to, Wooyoung moves on to Yunho's texts, biting back the bitterness marring his emotions.

- yunho 🐶
i'm still really sorry about what i said woo
i never meant to hurt u like that
(sent today 1:35 am)

- yunho 🐶
i let my previous encounter with san ruin things, but i hope you give me a chance to be better
(sent today 1:37 am)

- wooyoung
i guess it's fine, though u rlly did hurt my feelings
but its san u should apologize to, not me

Wooyoung doesn't wait for whatever response Yunho gives to that, because he's already clicking on San's contact, eager to talk to him today.

- san 🌻
know ur probably already sleeping rn, but i hope you get good dreams 👻
(sent today 12:57 am)

- san 🌻
good morning sunshine
i hope things went well with you and yunho??
i just woke up too and honestly would not recommend using a metal chair as a bed. 0/10 would never do it again lol
(sent today 6:45 am)

San hadn't slept at his apartment? Wooyoung thinks with a frown. That meant he was probably with his mom all night, while he spent his night sleeping on a comfortable bed moping his heart out just because of a silly little crush.

Wooyoung's thumbs fly over screen, typing something along the lines of a good morning greeting and well wishes that he hopes will convey how deeply he cares for San when a new message pops up from the taller, surprising him.

The contents make him nearly trip over the couch in shock.

- san 🌻
im near ur house rn
hope thats fine?

No, no it's not! Wooyoung wants to scream, because here he is, toast crumbs on his haphazardly buttoned pyjamas, his hair a bird's nest and his face red and horrid due to all the sobbing and sniffing he'd done the night before. Not to mention, his nose is still stuffed and uncomfortable to breathe with, and his glasses only highlight the fact that he'd recently been crying. Fuck.

Wooyoung wants to tell San to turn back even when his heart freaking wants him there, but before he can even touch a letter, the doorbell rings. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Maybe if Wooyoung pretends he's a ghost San will get the memo and leave, but the guy doesn't, because the doorbell is pressed again.

"Wooyoung?" San's voice is unmistakable. As if things can't get any worse, San starts calling him right then, the ring-tone blaring through the house.

Ears inflamed with shame, Wooyoung declines the call and races for the door, hugging a sofa cushion to his chest to hide the stains on his pj's.

He lets San in and shuts the door, far too shy to look the grinning male in the eye.

San's smile doesn't last long, however, when he gets a proper look at Wooyoung's face. "Hey, you okay?"

Wooyoung nods, and busies himself with clearing the sofa and dumping everything into the sink. San follows him, unfortunately, his stare making Wooyoung want to curl into a ball.

"You look like you just cried," San says, and of course Wooyoung should've known he wouldn't have fooled him that easily. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Wooyoung grabs the glass cup and starts to wash it down, too high-strung to reply with something tangible.

San shifts even closer, worry clouding his features. It doesn't help how great and perfect he looks all the time, and although Wooyoung knows he shouldn't think like this because he knows what the taller's going through, he can't help the insecurities that creep inside again.

San places his hand on his wrist, halting his movements. "Please, tell me what's going on. You're worrying me like this, Wooyoung."

Wooyoung bites his lip so hard it hurts, but that doesn't stop the way it wobbles, his eyes swimming in unshed tears.

"Yunho, he -- he said no matter how much I-I like you," Wooyoung sniffs, finally breaking down, "you'll never feel the same b-because you'll never like me like that. And -- and I don't want to believe him because he doesn't like you and he's just saying that to be mean but it's hard, San." Tears gush down his face, hot and altering his vision. "S-So freaking hard because I like you so much, and -- and I've never felt this way about anyone else b-before."

San's expression falls, eyes stunned. "Wooyoung..."

"A-And it's scary," Wooyoung confesses, his grip on the cup so tight his knuckles grow pale. "Because I try to pretend I'm alright with the kind of friendship we have b-because I don't want you to be uncomfortable or freaked out, but I'm -- I'm not. I‐I like you so much that it hurts, San."

San removes the glass cup from his hands before he can injure himself with it, and douses off the soap from them, his touch careful and sincere. Then, he's removing Wooyoung's glasses and wiping the remaining tears off his cheeks, his actions making Wooyoung's heart throb in the best way.

"I-I'm so sorry for b-breaking our promise, and -- and liking you for real," Wooyoung whimpers.

"Shh," San whispers, his soothing tone calming Wooyoung's hiccups down. "Hey, it's okay. Let's go take a seat."

Wooyoung nods with a sniff, hand interlocked with San's as they make their way to the sofa. San faces him as soon as they sit, his thumb running over the shorter's knuckles.

"Wooyoung, I need you to listen to me very carefully," San begins with utmost seriousness.

It frightens Wooyoung, and he almost doesn't want him to continue. "Okay..."

"Yunho's right," San admits, voice thick with emotion. "In the sense that I've never had romantic feelings for anyone my entire life."

Wooyoung gulps, trying his hardest not display how fucking devastated he feels.

"And I -- I honestly had no idea you felt that way about me. But you mean so much to me, Wooyoung," San goes on, their hands still entwined. "I don't want to hurt you, and I don't want you getting heart broken because of me."

"You want us to...to break this off?" Wooyoung asks, not knowing he's crying again until San cups his cheeks to wipe them.

"...No," San whispers. "I want to try this relationship thing with you. Because I do like you, Wooyoung. You're my friend and I think about you like, all the time. You make me really happy."

"Really?" Wooyoung sniffs, quite embarrassed at how emotional he's being. But it's not his fault; he's never liked anyone this much to cry over them like this.

San nods with a soft smile. "Yeah."

Wooyoung, hesitating at first due to how unbelievable this all seems, soon shuts the space between them with a kiss, and San stills for a second, before dragging him over his lap to deepen it. Like the last time they'd kissed like this, it feels nothing short of satisfying, San's hands on Wooyoung's arms like sparks that heat him up in all the right ways.

San falls into the couch when Wooyoung leans in to connect their lips once more, knees straddling his thighs. He whines when San nips at his earlobe and pecks down the slope of his neck, shuddering as the taller's palms massage his waist and slide into his back pockets.

"This may be bad timing, but I really love your butt," San says, as breathless as Wooyoung feels. "Love touching it, too."

"T-Then..." Wooyoung takes San's hands and slips them past his pyjama bottoms and over his boxers, heart thumping like mad. "Then keep touching it."

San's eyes brighten with surprise at first, but the moment doesn't last long because he kisses Wooyoung again, deep and fiery and amazing, hands as sturdy as ever on his ass. And they feel so good.

The door opens. "Wooyoung I think I just saw San's motorcycle but I'm not too sure -- "

Wooyoung flies off San at the speed of light, the taller boy disoriented as Ms Jung steps in, house keys in hand.

It's hard to read the look on her face, and it makes Wooyoung want to die.

* * *

a/n: thoughts?

also this was mad quick cause we stan communication in this household ✊😍