Wooyoung stared at him all throughout math class, and it made San both antsy and weary of the guy. Wooyoung didn't even try to hide it. Whenever San snuck a peek at him, he always caught his eye. San hated it, because he didn't know whether he had something up with his face, or if Wooyoung was planning to do something to him.

So when the bell rang, San sprung to his feet and shoved his books into his bag. Luckily for him, he didn't have any class right now, so he was determined to leave the classroom as quick as he possibly could.

Students were already filing out the class, but Wooyoung was taking his sweet time, zipping up his bag with the pace of a snail.

San grabbed his bag and rushed towards the door, but before he could leave Wooyoung had already caught up to him, his face blank but eyes playful, as always.

"Hey, San," he started, and San basically clammed up where he stood. "Why are you so much in a hurry? Got someone you need to see?"

He pushed himself into San's line of sight, a smirk ingrained into his pretty features. "Or...maybe you're avoiding someone?"

San took a step back. He had no clue why Wooyoung was even with him right now, why he was even talking to someone like him. Didn't the guy have a class he should be getting to?

San turned around and stared at the floor. Being around a guy like Jung Wooyoung made him self-conscious, because whenever he stared at the goodlooking guy, he was only more aware of how fucked up his face was.

"D-Don't you have class...now?" San questioned, already heading into the corridors. Wooyoung, unfortunately, followed right after him.

"Why would I when I'm currently occupied with something much more interesting?"

San paused just before he reached the steps, which caused the other male to bump into him. On instinct, he jumped, nerves aflame and heartbeat thrashing within the confines of his chest. His sneakered feet would've almost tripped over the stairs if not for Wooyoung's arms holding him in place at that second.

Fuck, San's mind screamed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck --

Wooyoung's arms were tight around his waist, his breath fanning San's collarbone. "Fuck, watch your step. Being accused of murder is not fun."

With a panicked intake of breath, San gulped. "Please, let me go."

Fortunately, Wooyoung listened, and San continued on his way, gritting his teeth when the black haired male just kept on tailing him.

"Where're you goin'?" Wooyoung asked.

San didn't want to reply. He just wanted Wooyoung to get lost and leave him alone, not matter how visually appealing he was. But, since the guy seemed to be good friends with Jung Yunho -- a guy who a lot of students feared -- San knew he had to watch what he said and how he acted around Wooyoung.

Fuck, this was so exhausting.

"San." Wooyoung's hand held San's wrist, which made the latter's breath hitch. His eyebrows raised when San yanked his arm from his grip.

"Don't...don't touch me. Please."

Wooyoung raised his hands in surrender. "'Right then. Sorry. But then again, didn't I just save you from impending death -- "

"Stop it." San's jaw clenched. He didn't want to think about something like death. Not right now, not ever.

Wooyoung blinked, eyes flashing with disbelief. "Fine. Apparently you don't like me mumbling the word 'death' as well." He stepped closer to San, his bag's strap hanging loosely over his shoulder. "Is there anything that you do like, though?"

San looked down at his left hand, realizing he'd been picking at his nails far too much for his licking. Exhaling a shaky breath, he shoved his hand into his slacks.

"You okay?" Wooyoung asked. He was closer than he needed to be, once again, face unreadable and lips puckered into this childish pout that made him seem less and less genuine. "Looks like you've just seen a ghost."

San pulled at his locks, annoyed. "Why are you with me?"

"It's either you right now, or some business class I'm not even half interested in," Wooyoung answered honestly. "And fuck, I can't even smoke right now, so that sucks."

San grimaced, wetting his chapped lips. He didn't even know why, or how he'd landed himself into a conversation with someone like Wooyoung at this moment.

"You have your friends," he'd argued.

Wooyoung pushed his hands into his pockets. "Those assholes are more annoying than usual when they don't have something to lure me in with. Especially now that Yunho lost my pack of cigarettes. Bet he stole it."

"But he just lost his grandma," San found himself muttering lowly. His voice, however, was loud enough for Wooyoung to hear.

"That sucks," Wooyoung kicked at a pebble. "But that shit's too fuckin' depressing. I'm in a good mood right now, don't ruin it, Choi."

San just nodded, not really knowing how to respond. Sure, he'd seen Jung Wooyoung as a person who didn't really wear his heart on his sleeve, but the guy barely showed any ounce of emotion on his face. Everything he felt, it seemed, was buried within his eyes.

"Where are you going right now?" Wooyoung's voice snapped San out of his thoughts.

San's right hand clenched around his bag's strap. "Home."

Wooyoung's lips tugged into a smirk that seemed sweet, his dark eyes a lot more piercing than usual, and San caught himself staring too long at him. He looked away, his left hand's fingers working away in the confines of his pocket.

"Wanna go get some ice cream with me?" Wooyoung asked, his tone too serious for what he'd just suggested.

San, as if in some stupid trance, slowly nodded. But a part of him knew deep down, that Wooyoung wouldn't have taken no for an answer.

* * *

a/n: thoughts?