warmth is draping over wooyoung when he wakes. drowsily, his eyes flutter open, torturous due to the searing rays of marmalade sunlight slipping in through the blinds.

the heat is nothing compared to the arms embracing him, however, or the legs entangled between his own, or the breath just faintly gliding across the skin of his temple. truly nothing compares to san; the feelings he has the ability to stir within wooyoung are ineffable, a talent he's pioneered and mastered like no other — even in deep sleep.

contrasting to just moments ago, wooyoung's eyes shimmer when they flicker towards san, with utmost fondness at the serene sight.

san's hair is stood erect here and there, the dishevelled tussle of his dark locks somehow endearing, and wooyoung lifts a hand up to brush a few of its strands out of his eyes. then, his palm moves over to rest upon the side of san's face, where almost unnoticeable moles are sprinkled across his skin, its natural, honey-like shades emphasised beneath the gleam of the sun.

despite being the only conscious being in the room, wooyoung's fingers are nervous when they trail down to cup san's jaw. simultaneous with the pace of his heaving chest, small breaths escape his lips, the addictive, pink, tender lips wooyoung has learned to love over the past night. even more against his own. 

wooyoung's heart drums rhythmically in every cell in his body. san likes him. he feels like it's only genuinely sunk in now, now with the tranquil quiet filling the walls, consisting of just him and his thoughts. san actually fucking likes him. wooyoung grins brightly, his joy resulting in him snuggling into san's chest. he can make out the calm sound of his heart beating.

there's still the question of what these feelings mean, however. what they mean for them. it'll take a while to figure out, wooyoung knows, but after last night, he believes they can find a way to do so soon — a way to be happy with each other.

it makes wooyoung feel... almost afraid when he thinks about it, too; he's never been in a relationship before. he's never been able to experience what it feels like to receive this type of love, or care, or intimacy before, and neither has he ever had the opportunity to offer that same love, and care, and intimacy to another.

despite wooyoung's fear, it excites him all the same. because he wants to know how it feels. he wants to relive the films and the novels and the songs which have revolved around him his entire nineteen years of life. he wants to love san, care for san, and express that through the beauty of just the two of them together.

someday close or not, he sure hopes the idea of that happening is plausible.

a knock pounds against the door to san's dorm. it's followed with another, before a voice calls out, a little muffled: "you better be up, choi!"

wooyoung's curiosity concerning the person on the other side of the door is discarded quicker than the next breath leaves his lungs, because he doesn't know what to do. he hasn't the faintest clue. how can he possibly disrupt san's sound sleep when he looks so glorious, as if he's dreaming about, i don't know, the seventh heavens? but the knocking only continues, wooyoung sparse of an idea different.

he frowns to himself. reluctant, he rubs the back of his fingers against the skin of san's cheek, edging closer to murmur, "sannie... sannie, i need you to wake up for me." wooyoung's hand slides down to san's shoulder, running up and down his arm. "c'mon..." he squeezes at his bicep.

at this, san's face jerks sideways slightly, and his lips issue out a quiet noise of discomfort. wooyoung glides his fingertips across the latter's neck, backing up a bit. "sannie," he says quietly, joined with a small smile. "morning."

eyes falling open, squinting in the bright sunlight, san holds wooyoung's gaze, expressionless. his brain is fairly quick to process it all, though, his ears blooming a shade of red. "oh. hi. good morning." he's flustered, and wooyoung's smile widens just a bit.

"what's up with you? amnesia?" he chuckles, as san grins sheepishly. he budges closer, but wooyoung has to shut him down. "i didn't wake you for a laugh, sannie— someone is at your door."

"what?" san mutters, neck stretching towards the clock hung up on his wall. a second or two passes when his mouth forms a circle of realisation. "eric. shit."

"i can get it for you if that's alright," wooyoung offers softly, but san shakes his head.

"no, no, that— it's—" he stops to yawn, ridiculously coincidental. "it's okay, wooyo. i can—"

"yeah, whatever." carefully, to not spoil san's comfort, wooyoung slips out of bed. he runs both of his hands hastily through his tangled mess of hair, wincing a bit meeting the knots, then turns to san. he looks positively starstruck. "just gotta hope it's not someone of too high class, huh?"

"you really don't need to—"

wooyoung leans over the mattress, moving his index finger to san's lips. he contemplates for a moment, before pressing a feather-like kiss onto the top of his head. to his liking, the act effectively shuts san up. "it's literally nothing, sannie, honestly. rest a little longer, okay?"

san takes wooyoung's hand in his own, and squeezes. "alright. just... be wary of your eardrums."

wooyoung laughs airily, shaking his head a bit. releasing himself from san's safe grasp, he heads out to the front of the elder boy's dorm, wondering is this eric guy has left already. he knows if he was in his position, he definitely would have. but then again, wooyoung's patience levels are close to being non-existent, so he doubts putting himself in eric's shoes is anywhere near logical.

rubbing his eyes and huffing out a breath, wooyoung unlocks the door, before pulling its handle in his direction. he peers through the gap, regretting not washing his face beforehand, but it's far too late for that. hair a bold pink, clashing greatly with his all-black attire, wooyoung is met with a taller boy, whose thumbs are battling with the phone clutched in his hands.

quite literally, perhaps, because, not having yet noticed the figure silently accompanying him, he groans loudly, scowling at the device as it echoes the sound of an explosion into the hallways. "for fuck's sake!"

"uhm—" wooyoung clears his throat, which successfully gains the attention of the boy. not enough of it, it seems, however.

"finally, hyung! i have your—" eric looks up, his mouth freezing into a gape out of surprise. probably some humiliation, too. "oh. hey?"

wooyoung smiles awkwardly. "hi. you're eric, aren't you?"

"yep." eric nods his head enthusiastically, very enthusiastically, teeth forming a grin of the same feeling. he laughs, and it's awfully stiff. "that's me."

"yeah, er—" wooyoung blushes madly before the words even leave his throat. "sannie just woke up, and i— i just thought it'd be easier if i got the door for him, so..."

eric gasps, his eyes excitedly wide. "no fucking way!" he exclaims.

"w-what—"

"you're that woo boy he's always calling pretty, huh?" eric smirks smugly, as if he's just solved the conspiracies behind the illuminati or something.

wooyoung feels himself turn hot, and he wishes to die on the spot. "i-i—" he bites down hard at his lip, hoping they aren't as swollen as they were last night. "well, tha-that could be, like, pretty much anyone, so—"

eric snorts, and wooyoung only feels ridiculed. "mhm, i see. anyway!" he slips his backpack off from his shoulders in one swift motion, causing the other to instinctively step back in uncertainty. humming something to himself, eric rummages through its contents, before hauling out a cardboard box, messy duct tape keeping it intact. "for your hubby," he sings, holding it out to wooyoung.

having to look away bashfully, wooyoung takes the suspicious box into his hands. he forces a kind smile; expressing his frustration to someone he's only met three minutes ago, who looks, talks, and acts like he's just started high school, would betray too much of his dignity, regardless of how much they suited neon pink hair.

"tell san i say hi!" eric bows politely. for nothing less than a second, wooyoung finds him not so bad anymore. "oh, and that i still want that fine dancer's number!" he adds on, before sprinting away with a skip in his feet.

high schooler, wooyoung thinks, shutting the door with an exhale.

and maybe he's just a shameless fucking hypocrite because, intrigue jolting through his veins, he dashes back to san's room like a child wanting to brag about a flower they've picked at the park.

san immediately perks up at the sight of him, his eyes shining. perching his butt on the edge of san's bed, wooyoung meets his gaze hopefully, an adoring smile gifted his way. "go on then, wooyo," san encourages gently.

a giggle passes through wooyoung's lips. eagerly, he starts to rip off the layers of duct tape embracing the package, shortly creating a sticky ball of the annoying stuff on his lap, but he doesn't care. sticking his hand into the box, he pulls out a rectangular object, wrapped up in bubble wrap. "huh?"

wooyoung looks over to san again, whose dimples are deeply carved into his cheeks. "it's for my yves! remember?"

"oh!" almost as if it's a reflex of his, seeing san like this naturally causes wooyoung's own lips to tug upwards happily. he slips the bubble wrap off, letting it fall to the ground, revealing a simple frame. "where is she?"

san gestures to the small table beside him, and wooyoung crouches down before it. the search is over, like, right then, because a photo of the divine woman is residing in the first drawer he opens. he delicately takes it in between his fingers, squeezing himself directly next to san this time, before placing it, as well as the frame, into his hands.

stars twirling within san's feline eyes, wooyoung watches, entirely immersed in the latter male as his slender fingers slides his photo of yves behind the glass. his eyebrows are creased in concentration, soon softening once he clicks the frame into place.

"pretty," wooyoung mumbles, resting his chin onto san's shoulder.

"you're prettier," san responds in half a second, and the younger's mind can't help but linger on eric's earlier words.

he sucks in a breath. "that eric wasn't too far off then, was he?" san's features scrunch up, and wooyoung takes the picture frame of yves over to its prior habitat, before elaborating — for some reason, he only has the bravery to do so a good few metres away from the elder: "said something about, uh... how you're always calling me pretty."

"that's all he said?" san sounds unfazed, wooyoung spinning towards him after perfectly positioning the frame upon his dresser.

"yeah?" wooyoung daringly breathes, "why'd you sound so surprised?"

san's gaze holds so much feeling, even when they flicker elsewhere timidly. he shrugs his shoulders. "i suppose he did me a favour with that one."

###

a/n: i miss eric.

also smts san says stream flip that by loona 🤷‍♂️ (and also their whole summer special album bc shit is that good and orbits r just annoying and complain over everything)