title inspo from guerilla
also tw: reference to child abuse/ torture

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Wooyoung feels his heart race as he kisses San once more, the butterflies in his stomach more like stingrays when San also follows suit, his soft lips melting against his like a perfect puzzle piece.

Wooyoung still can't believe this is happening, can't believe he's in San's house with the man in his arms kissing him like his life depends on it.

San kisses so deeply and intensely, hands cupping his face and fingers caressing his cheeks like Wooyoung will disappear if he doesn't. But Wooyoung isn't planning to in the slightest, far too gone in the taller's touches. The feel of San's light stubble against his skin makes him shiver.

Is it possible to fall in love with someone in just three weeks? Wooyoung thinks he has, even if it sounds a little crazy.

Wooyoung doesn't think he ever wants this to end, but his stomach decides to grumble and groan like some whale right then, interrupting and slicing through the moment like a knife.

Fuuccck.

San stops kissing him. No, come back. Then he's moving away, his light brown eyes dazed and lips swollen and red. He looks so sensual like this, and Wooyoung has to refrain himself from jumping the taller man yet again.

"You're hungry," San states, blinking. His eyes clearly still want, but some clarity has returned, and in turn a sliver of insecurity.

"I..." Wooyoung licks his lips to savour the kiss for just a moment more, needing San's hands on him more than oxygen. "Just ignore it. I'm not -- I'm not that hungry anyway."

Despite San back to hiding a part of his face from Wooyoung again, he shakes his head, his expression almost too serious. "I'm going to make you something to eat."

"No, San, there's really no need to -- "

"Just sit," San snaps, and Wooyoung immediately listens, resting himself on the longer couch. The man then heads into the corridor, leaving Wooyoung all alone with his thoughts.

And they are many. Wooyoung can't clear his head of his and San's kiss -- the way San held him. Before he goes nearly insane with how tumultuous his emotions are, Wooyoung forces himself to observe where he actually is.

San's house is on the smaller side. The grey walls are congregated with a bunch of pictures, the bookshelf in the corner toppling over with all sorts of literature while the furniture is more so compressed with how minimal the space is.

But it looks lived in, looks like a home.

And compared to Wooyoung's large manor that has more empty space than furnishings, Wooyoung can't imagine ever feeling lonely in a place like this.

Footsteps soon saunter in, purposeful and light. San shows up with his hair pulled into his signature ponytail and the right half of his face covered with a smooth-surfaced black mask.

For a second, Wooyoung and him just watch each other. The taller man looks at him like he expects him to realize something or react a certain way, but Wooyoung doesn't know what that something is.

He does know San isn't used to having his face exposed to him, and Wooyoung totally gets and understands it.

After a few seconds, San's shoulders drop as he gestures to the kitchen situated right behind them. It's just as tiny as the living room, and despite its clutter, the pots and plates are neatly arranged and the counter spotless.

"I'm going to make breakfast," San narrates, and before Wooyoung has a chance to refute because he really doesn't want to intrude or burden San more than he's sure he already does, the man's already tying an apron around his waist and getting to work.

Wooyoung can't help but watch while all this goes on, entranced as San pulls out some sliced bread from the pantry and eggs. San manoeuvers around the kitchen like he's used to this, nothing less than comfortable as he beats the eggs and chops up some fruit with utmost precision.

San's soon heating up the stove and frying the sliced bread soaked in eggs and milk, and Wooyoung realizes with a gulp that the man's making french toast for him.

And Wooyoung, more than used to gulfing down cereal or coffee, or just ordering breakfast as neither he nor Hongjoong know how to cook, is genuinely touched that San's taking time out of his day to make him something he has no doubt will be absolutely delicious. Wooyoung is so looking forward to it, his stomach even more so.

That distinctive smell of toast and bacon wafts through the air along with sizzling oil, delectable and tantalizing and Wooyoung figures that this is it -- he's in love with this man.

It's right then Wooyoung catches his reflection the dark coffee table, and nearly gasps out loud at the atrocious bedhead he's currently sporting.

He tries patting it down but it does next to nothing at making him look more presentable.

San kissed him looking like this. Oh my god.

Wooyoung's downward spiral of thoughts is intercepted by a full plate of of hot french toast topped with strawberries and some syrup, as well as a glass of water. It smells absolutely heavenly, and the hero swallows, his mouth watering.

"Oh my god, San," Wooyoung rambles, the taller male nonplussed for the most part. "This looks amazing."

San lowers his head, and now that his ears are exposed, Wooyoung swears he sees a bit of pink on them. "Thanks."

Realizing he should probably dig in before the food gets cold, Wooyoung cuts through the toast and takes just a small bite of it, not wanting to seem messy in front of a guy he so desperately likes.

Turns out it makes no difference as the taste alone has Wooyoung racing to cut a much bigger piece for himself, his hunger getting the best of him. He hasn't eaten since yesterday afternoon after all.

San looks the slightest bit amused at how eager he is to eat the toast, which drowns Wooyoung's entire face with heat. God I'm such a mess.

"This is so good," Wooyoung finds himself admitting out loud. The toast is the perfect combination of sweet and savoury, the strawberries and bacon adding a whole new layer of flavour that Wooyoung seriously can't get enough of. "I think this is the best thing I've ever had in my life."

"You're kidding," San says, both surprised and abashed.

"I'm really not," Wooyoung insists, forcing himself to slow down before he chokes on something. "This is even better than that pizza we had at Nero diner."

San rubs his neck. "Really?"

Wooyoung quickly nods. "Mhmm. Didn't know you could cook so well."

"It's just french toast."

Wooyoung dislikes how San's always putting himself down, and as a result gently nudges the man on his shoulder. "It may be just french toast, but you'd be surprised how fucking bad some people are at cooking. Exhibit A: Me. I think I even burnt water one time."

San looks right at him, interest piqued. "You burnt water."

Wooyoung nods, liking how San's attention is solely on him. Makes him feel quite special in a way he can't fully describe. "I really did, San. Do not trust me around a kitchen for your own safety."

San chuckles. He actually chuckles, and although it's quiet and subdued, it warms Wooyoung's heart all the same. "Okay."

Wooyoung takes yet another big bite of the french toast, unable to help the moan of pleasure that escapes him at how tasty it is. "Jongho must be so lucky if he gets to eat this everyday," he confesses, only to realize what he just said a moment later.

San's amused demeanor drops, his posture turning more rigid. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"I'm so sorry. I should've just shut up and just enjoyed the food like a normal person -- " Wooyoung snaps his mouth shut, hating how he literally has no filter more than half the time. "Sorry."

"Wooyoung, it's fine," San says, but he doesn't sound fine.

"I say the dumbest shit sometimes," Wooyoung rumbles, taking a sip of water, "but I promise I won't say a thing about what I saw yesterday. I have zias too."

San watches him, a strange look in his eyes. "And are you a hero?"

Wooyoung feels himself stiffen as he stops chewing. "...I can't really answer that, San. I kinda have to -- "

"Keep stuff like that a secret. I get it," San finishes, expression sour. He's thinking hard about something and while Wooyoung is curious he knows he can't force the man to give him answers. "...I can't be a hero because of my zia."

Wooyoung slowly nods, far too familiar with how the Headquarters regards powers like San's. He knows telekinesis is considered unstable, and guessing by how San had acted yesterday at Wooyoung's discovery of his powers, San is well aware of the fact too.

"It doesn't matter to me," is what Wooyoung chooses to reply with, conscious of his words. San has clearly gone through a lot, and although Wooyoung doesn't know any of the details, he figures the man's zia possibly had something to do with his past. "You're still the same San I've gotten to know."

San huffs a laugh that sounds almost sarcastic, like he can't comprehend that Wooyoung likes and wants to be around him. It hurts Wooyoung to see.

"You already know I'm an orphan," San begins after some strained silence. His hands clench and relax repeatedly on his lap, a nervous habit. "My powers are the reason I became one."

"...Oh." Wooyoung blinks, not sure what to say.

"Honestly, the fucker deserved it," San continues, the raw vitrol in his voice startling Wooyoung to bits. "He used to love beating me, you know? Whenever he came back from work, he'd roll up his sleeves and grab one of his many belts. Sometimes it'd be wires. Then he'd grab me and start the beatings."

Wooyoung feels his heart drop, sick to his stomach. What the actual fuck. "Oh my god. San..."

"He'd lock me up and starve me too at times, especially when he felt I'd done something to irritate him -- which was almost always," San says, his tone too casual concerning the abuse he'd endured. He picks at his nails, staring blankly at the TV. "He didn't like me very much."

"Shit, San," Wooyoung rushes to comfort the other man, chilled to the core. "I'm so sorry this happened to you. I had -- I had no idea."

"It's fine, Wooyoung." San just shakes his head and shrugs, but it's obvious sharing all this is taking a toll on him. "I don't know why, but I just felt like talking about it. Didn't want to keep it in anymore."

"Your...your scar," Wooyoung whispers, sincerely hoping the mark isn't there because of the reason he's thinking.

"He used the clothes iron in his room," San simply states, and Wooyoung's blood runs cold in pure horror and anger. "I'd just turned fourteen."

"Oh my god."

But San isn't done, and Wooyoung doesn't know what he'd do with himself if the person that was supposed to protect San did something even worse to him.

"That was the last straw," San reveals, teeth gritted. "Didn't know how exactly I did it, but in the next second, he blew into pieces. Got sent to Promise shelter straight after that, and met Jongho a year later."

At this, Wooyoung's eyes enlarge, and San looks away, avoiding his gaze.

"I know you think I'm a monster," San mutters. "Just like they did."

Wooyoung hurriedly shakes his head, mind racing with infinite thoughts. "No, San. I don't think you're a monster. None of that was your fault."

But San's already caved in on himself, like Wooyoung would hurt him.

I'd never hurt you, Wooyoung thinks, feeling like absolute crap for the taller. No wonder San had his walls up when they'd first met; he'd gone through one of the worst situations imaginable under the hands of the man that was supposed to be his father.

"That man that did that to you," Wooyoung touches San's arm, "he's the monster. He deserved what happened to him. He shouldn't have lived after what he did."

Hypocrite, Wooyoung's mind echoes right then, but he forces himself to ignore it. He can't think about them right now, can't think about those gunshots.

San stares at his hand, but doesn't inch away. The simple action moves Wooyoung way more than he'd anticipated.

"Trust me, I know all about shitty people," Wooyoung adds. Stop talking, stop talking. "So I just see what happened to him as Karma biting him in the ass."

San looks equal parts baffled and amused, which gets Wooyoung grinning broadly. "Wow."

"Yes, wow. But seriously, San. I can't fathom how difficult and painful it must've been to share this with me, but just know I really appreciate you trusting me with your past," Wooyoung answers. "I -- I know we haven't known each other that long at all, but I really care about you San, and I enjoy your company."

San can't look the hero in the eye when he says, "Me too."

San's just shared his traumatizing past, and Wooyoung has the insane urge to hug him tight.

"What?" San questions, picking up on Wooyoung's intent stare.

"...Can I hug you? Got informed hugs are great at making people feel better."

San doesn't react at first, which has Wooyoung reeling with shame and wishing he'd never said a thing in the first place.

But then, to Wooyoung's utmost shock, San draws nearer, head still ducked and lip pulled between his teeth. He looks so shy.

Wooyoung doesn't wait for San to try and say anything, already reading the man's mind.

Without further hesitation, Wooyoung pulls San into him and wraps an arm around his shoulder. He then rests the man's head on his chest, right over his heart. San doesn't reject his touch, fully committing himself to Wooyoung.

And when Wooyoung kisses San's hair, he exhales softly but doesn't say a word. He just lets Wooyoung comfort him.

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Wooyoung returns back to his empty bedroom a blushing and chaotic mess, hoping to whatever god's out there that he hasn't been caught sneaking out.

His mind's still fresh with memories of the kisses him and San shared, as well as the way San had allowed him to embrace him after unveiling something so personal about his life.

Wooyoung is about to go take a shower when the room's door opens, a highly agitated Hongjoong stepping in.

"Where the hell were you?" Shit.

"I was here this whole time."

"Bullshit. I entered your room earlier and you were gone. Where'd you go?"

Wooyoung knows a pissed Hongjoong is something he really doesn't have the heart to deal with this morning, so he quickly racks through his brain for a suitable enough excuse.

"I uh...went for an early morning jog!" He soon replies. "I can't keep spending my free days lazing around and doing nothing, hyung. I had to go out and get some exercise."

Hongjoong frowns, his expression looking out of place with the soft purple hoodie, beanie and grey shorts he has on. He looks a little too well put together, considering most of his daily outfits consist of ratty tshirts and baggy sweatpants.

"Whatever," Hongjoong eventually comments, waving off the hero's excuse. "Someone's downstairs in the living room wanting to see you."

For a second Wooyoung goes over the possibility of it being San before realizing how stupid he's being. How would San know where he lives, and he literally just left the man's place.

"I haven't showered."

"Doesn't matter," Hongjoong answers.

Hongjoong's steps are light as they head down the large spiralling stairs, his gait easy and relaxed which makes Wooyoung think this is someone Hongjong knows.

On the long leather couch at the center of the wide living room is a man Wooyoung has never seen before.

He stands as soon as he sees Wooyoung and Hongjoong, his styled hair a bright platinum blond that looks even whiter under the sunlight coming from the windows. He's donned in a black coat and slacks, and his hands are gloved even when it's almost summer. Weird.

"Wooyoung, this is Park Seonghwa. He's a scientist that works with the Headquarters," Hongjoong introduces both men. He's smiling too, which means he's more than familiar with this guy.

Wooyoung feels exposed under the man's stark blue eyes. "Hey."

"Pleasure to meet you, Jung Wooyoung," Park Seonghwa greets, holding his hand out to shake. Wooyoung shakes it, and the man quickly removes his hand soon after.

Wooyoung tries not to feel too weirded out.

"Seonghwa and his team are developing something beneficial for the hippocampus in the temporal lobe of the brain -- the area responsible for dreams," Hongjoong says, crossing his arms.

"Ah, yes," Seonghwa heads towards the computer on the table, opening it for Wooyoung and Hongjoong to see. The screen shows a few diagrams of the human brain as he clicks through them. "Kim Hongjoong told me about the...things you've been seeing, and what I plan on creating is a way to specifically dissolve memories that aren't...necessary to the human's state of mind."

Wooyoung doesn't really like the sound of that. In fact, Park Seonghwa himself, from his voice to his mannerisms, sets him on edge. The hand he used to shake Seonghwa's still tingles uncomfortably.

"What do you think?" Hongjoong asks him, looking hopeful.

"It's normal that you'd feel apprehensive," Seonghwa says, his piercing blue eyes staring right at Wooyoung again. "It's still in its early stages, after all. But it's going to be alright soon, don't you worry."

Wooyoung hates how unsettled he feels. His body feels boiling hot as the man keeps on staring at him, and Wooyoung has half a mind to hit him for whatever reason.

He inhales sharply, facing Hongjoong. "Can I leave now?"

Hongjoong's brows jump, but he doesn't argue when Wooyoung dashes up the stairs, eager to have a nice cold shower. In his rushing he doesn't notice the slightly melted handlebar of the stairs.

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a/n: thoughts?