"san!"

although a startling shiver racks through him, san's head swivels delightedly toward the sound of wooyoung's voice. he's nothing less than exuberant to hear it, especially on a day like this — especially when he has such exciting news for wooyoung!

san doesn't comprehend the command which echoes through his head until he's decided upon himself to leap from his spot before his locker and sprint over to the male. he reckons it only would've taken wooyoung a measly seven-ish seconds to reach him from where he made his calling, yet even that seems burdensome to san when he's this pleased to see him, adrenaline coursing through his insides.

once he's reached wooyoung, san has to exhale a long breath. it hinders his greeting slightly. "wooyoun—"

just slightly. because wooyoung interrupts him, arms swiftly engulfing his startled frame. the warmth almost knocks san off his feet.

"happy birthday, sannie," wooyoung murmurs, full— no, overflowing with so much sincerity that san forgets momentarily why exactly he's saying that. rather, all he focuses on for the first three, perhaps more, seconds is how genuinely fulfilled wooyoung sounds. until, wooyoung leans back, unveiling the wide and unmistakably contented grin adorning his lips. it's then san apprehends his words.

he blinks his eyes at wooyoung, baffled beyond coherency. "wha— what?"

"i said happy birthday." it's breathtaking, san thinks, the way wooyoung's eyes crinkle as he breathes out a chuckle. "can't be that difficult to fathom, can it?"

"i just— i—" as obnoxious as it sounds, san feels his neck start to sweat as he mumbles, "i didn't really expect you to know."

"reasonable. 'cause, well." wooyoung scratches his neck sheepishly, and smiles. "i maybe took a glimpse inside your planner a few weeks back and found out."

"oh."

wooyoung's cheeks have gone pink. a baby pink, like the colour of tulips. "yeah. i was... curious, and felt you weren't the kind of person who would boast about it."

gaze on the floor, san just shrugs. "i just... don't see a point."

"then, try to. your existence deserves to be celebrated, san."

when san seizes the bravery to return to wooyoung's gaze, his eyes become warm at the tender look he finds swirling within them. at the speed of lightning, san rubs at his tears with his fist. "okay," he whispers, watching as wooyoung gently takes his fingers. "i can try."

"good." wooyoung beams. it's the only thing san sees within the rabble of students hurrying to get home. "now, c'mon. i have something for you."

speechless, san's lips fall open as wooyoung tugs him along. somehow, wooyoung fails to notice the humiliating sight, or he simply pretends not to see it. san is satisfied either way. the most he expects is for wooyoung to take him to the spot in the library they've collectively, but unspeakingly, claimed as their own — it just seems to be the most rational place that could be awaiting him. the last thing san foresees, even in this unfamiliar case of celebrating, is for wooyoung to turn to the double glass doors and join the trail of teens out of the school gates.

"uh— wooyoung—"

"we're heading to my place," wooyoung announces softly, as if he can see right through the confusion scrambling san's face. he laces their fingers, and swings them once. "is that alright?"

"yeah. alright." san smiles, incapable of masking his excitement. he trusts whatever it is wooyoung has in mind.

"you aren't, um, celebrating with family or anything, are you? 'cause i'm not sure how long this'll ta—"

san tries, he really tries, to withhold the laugh that bubbles up within him. however, his efforts prove to be unsuccessful when he snorts and explodes into hysterics.

wooyoung looks at san like he's just insulted him. "huh? what— what is it?"

shaking his head, san grins: almost terrifyingly wide considering the circumstance. "nothing," he assures, before adding lightheartedly, "i just thought you knew me better than that, wooyoung." san giggles once more, the tune morphing into a quiet sigh. "my family haven't celebrated my birthday since i was twelve. well— asides from seonghwa."

"oh. sannie, i—" this bewildered, distraught look crosses wooyoung's features. it doesn't suit him at all. "that's horrible, bub. i'm really sorry."

wooyoung squeezes his hand.

san's heart takes a jump so high he thinks it could mistake its landing and squeeze down his oesophagus.

"it's— it's okay," he tells wooyoung. though he doesn't believe he has any valid reason to continue being dishonest to him anymore, one ugly reaction is more than enough for san's liking. "you get used to it eventually."

"it sucks that you even need to."

still beating much faster than is considered healthy, san's heart clenches. the sound of pity in wooyoung's voice is the last thing he wanted to hear today, no matter how much care and empathy envelop his words — no matter how much care and empathy san's crippled mind so desperately needs. "i know," he whispers. if wooyoung's hand wasn't clasped between his fingers right now, san thinks he would've shattered by now. "but that's just— that's just how it is. nothing i do helps."

wooyoung's thumb smooths over san's knuckles, the back and forth motion calming san's breaths. "my place is always available, sannie, if you ever need it. mom likes when you come over, too, so... just please keep that in mind, yeah?"

caused by overwhelming emotion, san sniffles back his runny nose and nods. he promises to wooyoung, and himself, in a fragile murmur, "yeah. yeah, i will."

———

"san! happy birthday, dear!"

at a loss to believe the words weaving into his hearing, san's eyes widen. he turns to wooyoung, the boy smiling happily by his right, and then back to wooyoung's mother. ironically enough, their expressions mirror one another's.

san's mouth falls open, in immeasurable gratitude. "i— i—"

only to find he has nothing intelligible to say.

wooyoung is fairly quick to pick up on san's inarticulate state; over time, he's grown customary to the dumbstruck gape of his jaw, and the stunned look in his eyes. it makes wooyoung laugh, endeared. he rests his palm over the small of san's back. "sannie."

"oh! sorry, i—" san snaps out of the dreamy haze blurring his thoughts, and wholly offers wooyoung's mother his undivided attention. "thank you," he voices wholeheartedly, a wobble wavering through a syllable. "i really— i—" san's breath catches in the cavern of his throat, choked up. "just thank you."

wooyoung's mother smiles at san, shaking her head with reassurance. "oh, there's no need for that, sweetheart. come on in," she insists sweetly, and widens the door for the pair to enter.

fingers still intertwined with wooyoung's, san watches as the boy closes the door behind them. he runs a hand through his hair, bangs delicately falling back into place over his eyes as he twists the key into its lock. san thinks his hair looks soft; if he could, he'd like to touch it. his gaze lingers on wooyoung's keychain again, the kitty's orange eyes enticing san's own for so long that he thoughtlessly blurts out, "i like your, uh, keyring. the cat. it's cute."

"oh, this?" wooyoung wiggles his keys about, issuing a light sound of metal clinking against one another. the black cat twirls in response. "one of my friends bought it for me, like, forever ago. mingi."

"the dude who chases after pigeons?"

wooyoung laughs, oh so angelically. "yeah, the pigeon chaser — horrendous. he's nicer than i made him sound, though, i swear."

"i believe you," san says. "i mean— he's literally friends with you. there's zero chance he's terrible."

"flattering me, are you?"

"and if i am?" although he effortlessly mimics the teasing tick in wooyoung's tone, san's heart pounds so loud in his chest he can feel it in his throat.

"then, i personally think it should be the other way around, sannie. it's your birthday, after all."

upsettingly, san's wit only lasts those few seconds; it feels as if someone has ripped his tongue from his mouth, and fled to another continent with his voice box. san blinks at wooyoung, the culprit at hand, yet quickly turns away, flustered.

but wooyoung's gaze on him remains confident. "mom is probably waiting for us." he chuckles, sounding unusually hesitant. "should we..."

"yeah. yeah, sure."

he allows wooyoung to lead the way — into the kitchen, it appears. for some strange reason, a reason unbeknown to san, the lights are switched off. wooyoung doesn't move to turn them on after they walk through the doorframe, either. it sets off a blaze of perplexity through san, even more so because he's squinting his eyes now and swears he can make out the outline of a shadow looming a few feet before them. why are we standing in the fucking dar—

a sound clicks, which resonates prominently in the silence of the surroundings. it vaguely reminds san of a... lighter?

something is definitely off, san decides, supported strongly by the lack of basically anything from wooyoung besides him. subconsciously, san tightens his grip on wooyoung's hand.

just then, the blinding orange of a flame pierces into the darkness, and san sees it all: the swirly purple candle, the cake smothered in chocolate flakes, wooyoung's mother stood behind it.

oh my god.

san is crying before he can even think of something to say.

he'd love to lie to himself and say he doesn't know the reason behind his, frankly shameful, meltdown, but it's painfully obvious. even wooyoung isn't naïve to his emotions, because he's there in seconds. hands cupping san's face, fingers wiping away san's unrelenting tears, eyes soothing the heaviness in san's chest.

san couldn't have expected wooyoung to do nothing — he knows the kind of character he is — but the silent gesture takes him aback, nonetheless.

"wooyoung," san whispers faintly once his vision clears, fully registering the heat draped across his cheeks. he thinks his voice breaks somewhere in between, and god— he just feels stupid. wooyoung has taken hell knows how much time and effort into treating him like this, and all san does in return is cry — like a pathetic fucking child. "fuck, i'm— i'm sorry, woo—"

"san," wooyoung mutters. the latter freezes beneath his touch. "apologise again and, i swear, i'll chuck that cake out the window."

shoulders loosening in something that feels like relief, san chuckles lightly.

wooyoung seems to like that. "there you go," he responds gently, and his fingers caress san's cheekbones. "i know things are hard, sannie. i have no place to tell you how you should and shouldn't feel about that, but i just..." a faint, sad exhale passes through the space between wooyoung's lips. "i want you to be happy today. it's your day, you have to be. you deserve to be."

somehow, amazing himself, the corners of san's lips curve up just slightly. "i know it may not look it, but i am happy," he says honestly. "i think i'm always happy with you, wooyoung. it just... gets a bit much sometimes."

"like right now?"

contemplatively, san nods his head. "yeah." it can't be classed as lying exactly, it's just the simplest answer. "something like that."

wooyoung nods, suffused with so much more meaning, more feeling, than san can ever wrap his little head around. telling san he understands, telling san he's listening. telling san he cares.

"now, i really worked my ass off to get that cake looking pretty for you, so let's not chuck it out, yeah?"

giggling quietly, san clutches onto the fingers that slide down his shoulder, his arm, his wrist, and dip into his palm. he sticks himself to wooyoung's shoulder like gum as they near his mother, blood incessantly rushing to san's cheeks at the thought of her having been watching them this entire time. he's conflicted between which is more mortifying — the woman having witnessed his meltdown or how wooyoung touched him just then.

san crosses his fingers with hope wooyoung's mother doesn't mention anything, about either subject.

her brows are sloped into a worried frown, and san feels god awful. "are you okay, my dear?" she asks, voice benign.

albeit his puffy eyes fail to appear convincing, san nods his head persistently. he even tries a smile, despite the discomforting fluid of remorse pooling at the back of his throat. "yeah, i'm— i'm good." san thinks he's telling the truth this time. "thank you, for this— for everything. you're really, really kind."

"it's nothing i need to be thanked for." wooyoung's mother beams, her flawless teeth all sparkly, as she budges the cake closer to san's end of the table. the flame swaying atop the candle has wavered slightly, but it's discernible enough for her to encourage lightly, "here you go — make a wish."

"oh." san's never done this before. he's seen it in a film he watched with seonghwa once, though. "okay. um—" slowly, he presses his eyes shut. he thinks of an abundance of things, yet the first and last picture san lingers on is wooyoung. he thinks about the hug they shared only a few days back, at seonghwa's place. he thinks about the serenity he felt in wooyoung's arms. he thinks about how badly he'd like to do it again.

san's lashes flutter open, and he leans forward with a huff of his breath. the blaze simmers into a swirl of smoke, disappears into the atmosphere.

while wooyoung's mother claps her hands happily, the boy himself nudges san's shoulder. "so," he enunciates. "what'd you wish for?"

san smiles. "if i tell you, it won't come true."

"you sound like my mom."

"watch it. i'm right here," wooyoung's mother chimes in, jokingly threatening. the sternness in her jaw quickly turns into a smile, before she parades a pair of spoons up in the air from... somewhere — san wasn't looking. "take san to your room, wooyoungie," she orders softly, pressing the utensils into his palm. "and have fun."

san stares, confused, when wooyoung's cheeks go red and he grumbles something in complaint.

he doesn't linger on it for long, he can't, because wooyoung's fingers slip out of his own to carry the cake upstairs. a silly flurry of disappointment overtakes san as they trek up to wooyoung's bedroom, which he doesn't quite understand.

all san knows is he likes the feeling of wooyoung holding his hand. almost as much as he likes his hugs. almost.

"sannie, can you get the door?"

"yeah, okay!" san almost chirps, carefully swerving past wooyoung and his busy arms. as swift as the squeak comes over him, san curses himself internally for his baffling show of excitement.

"cute." a hushed murmur. something in san's head convinces him he's hearing things as he echoes wooyoung's steps into his room. peering back at san, wooyoung's voice expands in both volume and clarity, "thank you, bub."

that word again. san feels every patch of his skin heat up.

wooyoung rests the cake on the drawer by his bedside and turns to san fully. he shuffles on his heels nervously. "i told you i have something for you. remember?"

anticipation rippling against his skin like droplets of rain, san steps closer and nods. how could he not remember?

"so," wooyoung says helpfully. "i, um—" it takes him a few seconds to pick up the package sitting at the end of his bed, wrapped unskilfully in striped paper — orange and blue. it takes him slightly longer to reach san, his steps achingly slow and his eyes springing frenziedly across the grey walls in... nervousness, is that? san almost laughs.

"you're nervous," san observes, head tilting naively. "why?"

"i just—" wooyoung clamps his mouth shut, and looks down at the plastic in his hands. drastically, he stretches his arms out, the crunchy material tickling san's chest. "this is for you."

"for me? like a... like a present?"

"no," wooyoung answers, and smiles with satisfaction. "it is a present."

san blinks. then, once more — staggered. he breathes out. "oh." fingers jittering, san reaches out for the— the present, vibrant colour palette stinging his eyes briefly. his eyes are wide, astonished, as he examines the package, thumbs pressing into the pliable material. thick, but soft. san looks back at wooyoung. "can i... open it?"

wooyoung laughs at him, and san thinks he's about to say no. "you don't need my permission for that," he says instead. "it's yours, now. even if you wanted to set it on fire, i couldn't really stop you, sannie."

"because i'm very likely to do that," san jokes, before gazing back down at the gift.

he feels his breath hitch when he tugs at the wrapping paper, ripping a corner open, trying with all his might not to make a mess in fear that he'll ruin what's inside. san doesn't think he could meet wooyoung's eye again if that were to happen. eventually, san has created this sort of cavern on one side of the package, which he slips his hand in, and—

great. more plastic.

but as soon as san pulls the crinkly material out, his mouth falls. followed with a grin climbing onto his features at the stupid, stupid menacing shark glaring at him.

"wooyoung," san utters softly. "you didn't— you—"

"maybe i did." wooyoung smiles, steps closer. the only thing separating his and san's fronts is the hoodie in san's arms. "i know you really liked mine, so i thought—"

"that's an exaggeration."

"no, it is not! you always steal mine."

wooyoung makes a smart, factual point, but even then san won't let him win. "that was, like, once—"

"twice."

"okay." san huffs. "twice," he surrenders, and wooyoung grins in victory. san smiles, too. "thank you, wooyoung. honestly, i—"

"it's nothing, sannie."

"it's not nothing," san argues, and his voice quietens, blooms in sincerity, "it's really not nothing. at least, to me, it's not." dropping his occupied arm to his side so he can squeeze closer to wooyoung, san lifts his spare hand to wooyoung's face. he doesn't know what it means when he feels this irrepressible urge to run his fingertips along wooyoung's jaw, and he doesn't know what it means when he can't help but give in to the enticing touch. an electrifying spark sizzles along san's skin, and the one thing he does know is he'd like it if wooyoung happens to feel the same way.

san hopes wooyoung can be there for every one of his birthdays from now on.

which, timely, reminds him, earning a gasp out of his throat. "oh, yeah! wooyoung!"

san's hand jolting apart from his jaw, wooyoung chuckles at the abrupt noise. "mmh, what's up?"

grin unfalteringly excited, san slips his fingers into the inside pocket of his blazer, and pulls out the gift he received from seonghwa: san found the time to visit his cousin's place before school this morning, where seonghwa luged out a massive array of doughnuts for them to breakfast on. mouth smothered with sugary cake and rainbow icing, seonghwa slid over to san a foreign, rectangular box.

seonghwa has done an incredible lot for san over the years, but san has never thanked him more than he did this morning.

clutching the mobile phone between both of his palms, san looks into wooyoung's eyes. he assumes by the flicker of hopeful light within them that he's caught on to what he wants, yet san stammers through an explanation nonetheless, "uhm. seonghwa gave this to me— this morning. y'know, for my birthday. and i— it reminded me of that day. after my volleyball coach yelled at us, and we walked around, and—" san inhales, fiddling with his fingers. "—and you asked me for my number. so, if... if the offer still stands, can you— can we—"

"san," wooyoung stops him. he's smiling, wide and bright — no different from his typical self. san still finds a whirl of adoration agitating his tummy. wooyoung winds his fingers around san's wrist, and drags him over to his bed. he pats the space beside him for san to sit, then orders, somehow simultaneously impatient yet soft, "give it here."

san's limbs jerk awkwardly before he hands the device over. seonghwa bought him a case, too, black with a colourful, floral pattern. humiliatingly enough, the sight of it almost made san cry a third time in seonghwa's arms — and that's just today.

finding san's contacts, wooyoung hums. "you should think about getting yourself a password, bub. just in case, y'know? there's a fuck ton of assholes out here."

"can you... can you help?"

wooyoung turns to san momentarily, flashes him an assuring smile. "of course, i can, sannie. let me just..."

he trails off into a garbled mumble, making san laugh beneath his breath. he feels his shoulders drop, and his posture loosen comfortably. being alone with wooyoung is nice, san realises. he makes everything feel peaceful and— and safe. yeah. wooyoung is safe.

"san? here, i'm done." eyes gravitating to wooyoung, san's gaze flickers down to the luminous screen. "that's me. text me something so i have yours, too."

"oh. okay." phone returning to san's clammy palms, his fingers hover thoughtfully over the keyboard. hesitantly, he begins to type.

me
hi wooyoung ☺️

change unknown to woo 🌙
yes • no

san smiles at nobody in particular, pleased with himself.

"what's the moon for?"

san squirms vaguely at the breath fanning his neck, belonging to a pair of lips oh so close to his shoulder. "it's.. hard to explain," he says quietly. "it reminds me of you, though. the moon."

"really?"

"yeah," san can only whisper.

"you know what this means, though?" wooyoung says, and nods to the words written on san's screen. he beams, self-satisfied and whimsical. "i can bother you, like, twenty-four-seven now, if i wanted. anytime, anyplace. perfect, isn't it?"

san chuckles, eyes scrunching up. "of course, you'd say that."

"what? you don't agree with me?"

"no, i... i do," san clarifies. he's watching intently as wooyoung fingers snake into his vision and rest upon his knee. the slight caress his touch grazes against san's school trousers makes his heart stutter. "and you can do that if you'd like. i wouldn't mind," he adds.

wooyoung cocks his head to the side. "you shouldn't say that. just 'cause it's your birthday doesn't mean i'll go easy on you."

"you're acting like we're about to get in the ring with each other."

"but honestly, sannie!" it's disappointing, the laughter wooyoung evidently suppresses. "say you don't mind, and i'll text you every morning, every night, every—"

"does that have to be a bad thing?" san interrupts softly.

the expression in wooyoung's eyes is so serious, you'd think san just confessed to him that he's a serial killer. but rather quickly, he breaks out into a grin, giggles happily, and plops his chin onto san's shoulder.

san doesn't know what he expects to happen next, but it certainly isn't the wet feeling of wooyoung's lips pecking his cheek.

"no," wooyoung finally says, a light murmur. "no, it doesn't."

———

a/n: longest chapter yet.. less than 200 words away from 4000 and they didn't even get to eat the cake 😓😓

that's monstrous of me i am aware but i just really wanted to end it there bc kissy kissy !!!! i feel like it's kiiinda cute so i hope u liked :]