After all his classes had ended, San made it out of school without any problems. He hadn't sought out to exchange any further words with Wooyoung after that incident at lunch, too stuck inside his detrimental thoughts to interact with anyone around him.

"Hey, um," Mingi began next to San while they walked the gates that led them into the road. His voice bordered on regret. "I'm sorry for butting in earlier."

San shook his head, adjusting the bag straps over his shoulders. "It's fine. Don't worry about it." He had a feeling he probably looked even worse by now. The late afternoon skies were dark and foreboding, and the air was thick with the cold that unattractively paled San's skin and coloured his cheeks and ears an odd pink. And as a result, he looked down, thankful for his longish hair that acted as a protective shield for his face.

"...Are you doing anything at home?" Mingi questioned again. "I feel rather guilty about everything, so I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner at my place."

San stopped, shock numbing his senses for a bit. He spared a glance at Mingi, maybe to figure out if the taller was indeed serious about it, and yeah, his face revealed nothing but honesty. "Uh..."

"If you're worried, well, mom won't mind an extra person to feed since she's like, super enthusiastic about cooking as much food as possible for whoever's present," Mingi explained, a sweet smile growing on his face as he spoke about his mother. "And dad, well, he doesn't mind friends visiting. Don't be fooled about his appearance though, he likes whoever I like. And my sister likes making new friends, so everything will be fine."

With this he stared at San, his quick eyes picking up on how reluctant the shorter still seemed.

"It's okay though...if you don't wanna come. If you're uncomfortable with the idea then I'd be a bad friend for forcing you into it -- "

San shook his head. "I -- I actually won't mind having dinner at your place. Seonghwa -- my cousin, he'll be working late today anyways. So it's fine."

Mingi's grin broadened. "Really?"

San nodded, cracking a smaller smile. "Yeah, really."

"That's good." Mingi held a thumbs up. "You won't regret it, really. I'll call my mom and tell her you're coming over. We can just walk there since I don't live too far anyways."

Although San was kind of looking forward to spending time with Mingi's family, he still couldn't get over how anxious he felt. But he resisted the urge to pick his nails and followed after Mingi, choosing instead to smile and laugh at the taller's hilarious jokes rather than to continue to wallow in his miseries. He decided he'd had enough of that today.

* * *

Mingi's family was so nice it was both surreal and absolutely insane, but in a good way. They'd all accommodated him warmly as soon as Mingi had introduced him, and their eagerness to learn more about him was both a nice welcome and kind of overwhelming.

"Hey San," Mingi's little sister called Dabin said, following after San while Mr and Mrs Song helped set the table, "you're one of Mingi's other friends, right? You look really different from Yunho though, but maybe that's 'cause I'm so used to seeing him around instead."

"Um," San looked to Mingi for help, but the taller was now glaring at his little sister, an uncharacteristic red coating his cheeks.

"That's because they're different people, duh," Mingi replied, jokingly pulling at Dabin's long ponytail.

"Ow!" Dabin squealed. "My beautiful hair!"

Her words made San's chest squeeze with discomfort. He suddenly remembered Wooyoung's identical words when they'd went to that ice cream shop with Mingi. The mere thought of the black haired male made San's heart race to astronomical lengths. It was quite pathetic.

"Run along to the kitchen and bring the cups, dear," Mingi's mother told Dabin, and as soon as she was done, San saw Mingi shoot her an appreciative stare.

"Hey, no worries," Mrs Song whispered to her son. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Mom." Mingi's eyes were wide, his eyes displaying embarrassment that caught San so off-guard that it made him giggle.

"What? I've got no qualms whatsoever with who you choose to bring home, same as your father," Mrs Song continued, setting the side dishes on their designated positions. When San offered to help her and Mr Song though, she promptly shook her head. "Oh god no, dear. You're a guest. Anyway, as I was saying -- I've got no problems with whoever you spend time with unless they're a drug dealer, some other type of criminal, or if you somehow managed to get a girl pregnant."

Mingi's eyes got so wide they reminded San of saucers. "If I knew you and dad were planning to embarrass me in front of San, I would have just come home alone instead."

"We're just kidding, Mingi," Mr Song, who looked like an older, more mature version of Mingi decided to add. Then he smiled innocently at San. "We aren't usually like this though, so feel free to come whenever you like."

At this onslaught of attention, San nervously rubbed the back of his neck and nodded. "Sure, okay."

As he took his seat, Mingi went off to his room since he wanted to change his clothes.

"I can lend you a shirt if you want, so you wouldn't get any food stains on your uniform," Mingi had suggested to him, but San only shook his head. He didn't want to intrude further, and he wasn't a messy eater anyway. In fact, he barely ate a lot as it was.

Dinner commenced after Mingi returned, and honestly, San enjoyed it. Everyone in Mingi's family were nice, and they were never invasive with their questions despite how curious they obviously were about him. And most of all, their lively presence distracted him and helped ease the ache in his heart.

"Dad will drive you home, and I'm coming along 'cause I wanna see you off," Mingi told him after they were all done eating.

"Can I come along?" Dabin asked as she hopped, her eyes pleading.

Mingi's father just shook his head. "No. It's raining heavily outside, and you get sick easily."

Dabin just pouted and ran off, which made San crack an amused smile.

It turned out that Mr Song was right though. Outside was freezing, the drops of rain from the twilight skies descending like icy daggers that sent goosebumps parading the surface of San's arms. The clouds looked extremely heavy that they made the skies appear darker than ever, and San was extremely thankful to Mingi that his family had spare umbrellas in their home at that moment.

Mingi's touch was warm as he guided San into his father's car after taking the initiative to hold the umbrella for the both of them. But his touch was nothing like Wooyoung's, and that was the most painful thing. Only Wooyoung could make San feel when no one else could.

"You guys took the bus to come, right?" Mr Song asked once he begun driving.

"Nah." Mingi looked out the condensed windows. "We walked."

Surprisingly, Mingi's father suddenly looked serious. He casted San a brief, yet cautious glance through the rearview mirror before saying his next words. "I know you like walking, but the weather's been unpredictable since the start of the month. Just...try to take the bus whenever you can."

There was something there that San didn't know about. He could sense it in how Mr Song's question had been poised, and especially with how tensed Mingi's shoulders became.

"Trust me, dad. I know," was what Mingi chose to reply with, and for a minute, the air was laced with awkwardness. But luckily, that didn't last long as Mingi's father soon cracked a few corny jokes that livened up the atmosphere.

In about fifteen minutes, the car drew closer and closer to San's house. By now, the surrounding area had grown incredibly dark despite the neighbourhood's street lamps.

Mr Song parked as near as he possibly could to San's house, while Mingi passed him the umbrella he had in his hand with a: "Just return it to me whenever. I don't want you getting drenched."

San smiled thankfully at him. Mingi was so caring. "Thanks, Mingi."

After exchanging goodbyes, San walked up to his porch, using the umbrella Mingi had given him to protect himself from the unrelenting rainfall.

But then he saw something that made sent chills racing up his spine. Leaning against his porch was a hooded figure, their hands securely hidden inside their pockets.

But upon closer inspection, San recognized the person to be Wooyoung.

He couldn't believe it, but here the other male was, standing in front of his doorsteps, his black hoodie soaked to the brim and sticking to him like a second skin.

San unintentionally dropped his umbrella, which quickly alerted Wooyoung of his presence.

"W-Wooyoung," San found himself stuttering. The nearest street lamp lit up the dark haired boy's face in the best of ways, spilling alluring gold into the dark pool of his eyes. "What -- why are you here?"

Wooyoung, for once, was absolutely speechless. Instead, he stood there, staring at San with doe eyes that reflected off deep longing and shame.

San ran up to him without thinking and casted his school bag to the side, before deciding to pull Wooyoung's hands out of his wet pockets. He ran his fingers over Wooyoung's knuckles, shivering at how cold they felt.

"Your right hand...it's bandaged." Wooyoung's voice was hoarse and raw, almost as if he'd been crying earlier.

San chose not to reply him, unable to think clearly due to his worry and alarm about the other's wellbeing. "H-How long did you stay outside?"

"Can't remember. Came...came here as soon as I could," Wooyoung replied. He kept alternating between staring right at San and glaring at the ground, and it made San's heart ache even more.

"You idiot," San whispered. His voice was harsh, but yet still he kept holding Wooyoung's hands, kept rubbing their palms together to give the younger boy warmth. "Why did you come when you saw how shitty the weather's been since morning?"

Wooyoung just shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for ignoring you and for being a huge asshole. I'm sorry that I -- that I left." He didn't sound like himself in the slightest, which made it a thousand times more difficult for San to stay mad at him.

"It's my fault," San let out. "Sure, I was mad, but I don't blame you for leaving -- "

Wooyoung's arms suddenly flung around him, holding him close. It startled San, but made his heartbeat twice as erratic.

Wooyoung was cold, colder than San could've imagined, yet the heat -- those sparks that bloomed between them at the contact seized San's heart with immeasurable warmth.

"I-I shouldn't have left," Wooyoung replied, his hands tightly fisting San's shirt. "I didn't want to leave. You must've been hurt. Shit, who am I kidding, you're probably still hurt."

San tried to blink away his tears. He couldn't afford to break down now, not when he had to make sure that Wooyoung was okay. "...I'll bring you inside and get you changed."

"Why don't you just hit me instead." Wooyoung stared into San's eyes, his words cold and his stare laced with an eerie seriousness. "L-Let out your anger on me much as you want, then maybe -- maybe you'd hate me less -- "

San let him go, clear shock seeping into his features. "Wooyoung, what are you talking about? Why would I fucking hit you?"

"You're mad at me, aren't you?" Wooyoung continued to ramble, his raspy words twisting San's gut. "I know you are. S-So just hit me. I'm an asshole, so I deserve it."

"You don't deserve to get hit!" San exclaimed, finally hitting his breaking point. His voice trembled, holding on to Wooyoung and staring at him like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Do you even hear what you're saying?"

"But I deserve it."

It was San who hugged him this time, and he held onto him so tight as if Wooyoung would disappear if he didn't. Freezing rain still poured all around them but all San could focus on was holding Wooyoung close to his body. The younger boy trembled, sniffing and holding on for dear life as well, and San's heart broke even more.

"I don't want pity. I just want you to forgive me."

San ran his hand through Wooyoung's hair, repeating the action in order to comfort him. "I already have. And I'm not mad at you anymore. So please, don't ever ask me to hit you ever again."

"And I need to bring you inside, you're freezing," San continued. His breath hitched when Wooyoung just peered at him through observant, dark eyes. His fingers ran down San's cheeks, tracing over his jaw and leaving a trail of heat in its wake. It left San breathless and frozen.

"W-Wooyoung."

Wooyoung tenderly held his face, his palms so cold yet so warm. "I'm sorry... But can I ask you something?"

San quickly nodded. "O-Of course. Anything."

Wooyoung's hands dropped to his shoulders, but his gaze remained on San's face, piercing and vulnerable in a way that was so unlike him.

"This is uh, maybe highly impractical, but," Wooyoung cleared his throat, "...kiss me."

San wasn't sure he heard right. "W-What?"

"You heard me." Wooyoung's hands curled within San's locks, and San gulped, finding it difficult to look the younger male in the eye. "I know... I know you want to do it."

"Woo..." San exhaled, the wild thumping of his heart the only thing he could hear. He wanted to grant the other's wishes, god he wanted to, but he needed to make sure that Wooyoung was okay first and foremost. "Please, let's just head inside..."

Fortunately, Wooyoung listened to him this time. He followed San to his room and sat on the floor as San racked his closet for the most appropriate clothes to wear.

"You can dress here if you want," San said as he passed a grey shirt and sweatpants over to Wooyoung. "I'll leave and give you some privacy."

Wooyoung, once again, said nothing and agreed. And during those silent and tense minutes which Wooyoung took to dress that seemed to take forever to go by, San kept thinking over what the younger boy had told him earlier.

Wooyoung asked me to kiss him, he thought. He cursed when his heart practically leapt at the thought, repeatedly running his hands through his hair in order to calm his heart down.

"San?" Wooyoung eventually called out, and when San finally went back into his room, he was faced with the sight of Wooyoung laying on his bed in his clothes. He patted the spot beside him. "Come here."

And so San did, but soon after did Wooyoung pull him in by the collar of his school shirt and bring their lips together.

The action was unexpected, drawing out a surprised gasp from San, but the shock didn't last long. Wooyoung's lips were cold and tasted of unsheathed want and desperation, shooting sparks straight to San's core.

Wooyoung's fingers were in his hair, slightly pulling and tugging, forceful yet not at the same time, but San didn't mind it at all. With their heaving chests pressed against each other, mouths moving with complete longing, San could've sworn right there and then that he'd seen stars.

Then Wooyoung pulled away with a low chuckle. He stared up at San with a dazed smile, his thumb lazily rubbing over San's cheekbone. "...Hi."

San couldn't help it. He looked off to the side even when he knew that it wouldn't do anything to hide his face. His neck burned. "Hi."

Wooyoung pulled himself into a sitting position, and then shifted closer into San's space until their noses touched. "I can't lie," he drawled, his voice husky and breathless, "I've thought about how those pretty lips of yours would feel on mine a few times... But I'd been too scared to try anything.

"But now..." he ran a hand down San's arm, and the older male shivered, "I want to do it again and again..."

And so San took the initiative and pressed their lips together once more, and just as easily Wooyoung melted into his touch, his lips addictive and undeniably soft. His heart was beating just as crazily as San's was at that moment.

And that was how San knew this moment was real. In this moment of vulnerability and the fresh wave of feelings that could finally sprout, San wanted nothing more than to be one hundred percent honest with the boy he was falling deeper and deeper for. Because Wooyoung deserved nothing less than that.

"I have feelings for you," San whispered between kisses. "And it's so surreal yet so fucking amazing, and I just -- I still can't believe I'm actually spending this moment with you."

Wooyoung brought San's hand to his lips and kissed it, the mere action sending a million butterflies somersaulting in San's stomach. "I'm not going anywhere. Not anymore."

* * *

a/n: yes i am a kdrama nerd. thoughts?