^ image above the header the closest fit to how san looks in this fic, minus the scar ctto

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San, as a way to make it up to Jongho for not being able to see him three days in a row, packs him lunch and enters the Dominion at 8 o'clock sharp to reclaim some of his recent Gains. Cap hung low to shield his features despite using the concealer yet again, San withdraws cash without any problems, if the wary look the some guy casts him on his way out doesn't count.

San's well aware of how strange he may seem a lot of the time. Far too used to hiding in the shadows or underneath a rugged mask, his head is mostly always bowed and his footsteps quick and light. He doesn't know how to get along with others. Doesn't want to, either.

Mingi used to joke that he must've been a ghost in his past life, but he doesn't say that anymore now that he knows what fuels San's insecurities.

He passes the construction site of Treasure Heights on the way, a lump in his throat at spotting a certain hero up in the sky. His suit's like liquid gold beneath the brilliant sunshine.

Wooyoung thankfully isn't looking his way, far too occupied with building up the dam with another hero at his side. San knows him too, the blondie more shallow and self-absorbed than any other hero San has ever come across.

For a moment, San can't do a thing but stare, watching Wooyoung work and prove he's deserving of his title yet again. San always tells himself most heroes had everything handed to them the moment they were born, but he'd be lying to himself if he said Jung Wooyoung isn't obviously passionate about his job.

San sees the fans, their eyesore posters and giant grins, and any other day he would've scoffed at how disgustingly cheesy and intense these people can be. But today a certain type of bitterness is all he feels.

He watches Wooyoung again, the latter virtually basking in all his glory, all his near-perfection. Like this, it's so easy to see why Wooyoung is idolized.

The bitterness in his gut and his quivering pulse make for a nauseating combination, so before San can suffocate in it, he pulls out the device in his pocket.

Mingi said to get rid of it, and that's what San is doing. No one pays any attention to him as he heads further back, the teleporation slide quickly whirling onto a bench in the process.

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"Hyung!" Jongho exclaims when San visits him later that morning. His eyes are wide, darting across his form. "Mingi hyung told me what happened. You're okay now, right?"

"Mhmm," San answers, chuckling a bit at Jongho doting on him. "I'm fine."

"How'd you get hurt?" Jongho questions before long, forever inquisitive and curious. He's wearing his beloved jean jacket, the material a little worn now due to continuous use. San vows to himself that he'll get him a new one.

"I tripped," San replies, not technically a lie. He still experiences a twinge of guilt, however, disliking how he's suppressing a chunk of his life from his brother.

Jongho pouts, brows furrowed in concern. "You're so clumsy, hyung."

"I know." San zips open his duffel bag. "I brought things."

At the dazzling smile Jongho shoots him that second, San almost feels his worries melting away.

They spend a minute in the cafeteria before Jongho nibbles on a ham and cheese sandwich and says, "So, is Wooyoung coming today?"

San spits a little of the water he'd been drinking. Alarmed, Jongho rummages for tissues.

"Shit, I didn't mean to startle you, hyung," Jongho says, tone all apologetic.

San wipes his lips dry, folding into himself. "It's fine."

"I guess he isn't." Jongho finalizes based on the older's reaction, tone bordering on disappointment.

"I don't know." San doesn't like how seamlessly Wooyoung has woven himself into his life. In fact he's unnerved by it. He sees enough of the guy on TV and on his tasks.

Silence engulfs the atmosphere afterwards, Jongho finishing up his sandwich in thought. It's something San and him have in common -- they don't mind silence.

"Hyung," Jongho states as soon as he's done. "It's been kinda boring here lately, so I'm gonna learn how to play the guitar."

San's taken aback with how serious Jongho is. "Oh."

The teenager positions himself like he's strumming his own guitar, and despite the weight pressing down on San's chest, the sight is quite amusing. "I'm so gonna learn how to play the guitar. That guy -- Wooyoung -- he looked so cool when he played it last time. Everyone kept talking about it."

San takes a hurried sip of his water, trying to calm his thoughts.

"Are you jealous, hyung?"

"No way," San blurts.

"Oh my god. You are jealous."

"Jongho."

"Hyung."

San bites his lip, not knowing to do with this boy. But Jongho's smiling -- laughing, and that's all San wants.

"You guys are friends -- "

We're not, San wants to say, but wisely keeps his mouth shut.

" -- So it'd be awesome if you could convince him to show up again. Hell, he could even teach me how to play the guitar." Jongho's eyes are bright with several possibilities, and San doesn't know how to break it to him that he and Wooyoung barely know each other, and that Wooyoung is a famous superhero that's always doing something.

San clasps his bento box shut. "...Listen, Jongho. I'm not really friends with -- "

"Wooyoung?" Jongho interrupts, looking at something behind San. It causes the older man to turn, only to see nothing.

Jongho's on his feet in less than a second. "I just saw Wooyoung heading down the waiting hall."

"Really?" San blinks, shocked.

"Yes, really." Jongho packs everything up at the speed of light, already on his way out.

Panicking, San jogs after the younger, only to see him talking to none other than Wooyoung at the reception. The man's dressed in a loose olive sweater and baggy jeans, dark hair falling over his face in soft tresses and those thick black glasses framing his face again. He looks nothing like the hero San saw earlier moving machinery and concrete without breaking a sweat, but he supposes that's the point.

San readjusts his hair when Wooyoung meets his eye, hating to death how he can't wear his cap around here.

Wooyoung's earnest grey eyes are more alert now, despite looking tired seconds earlier. He chews his lip as San approaches, restless.

"You should really play the guitar again," Jongho says with a big grin.

Wooyoung rubs the back of his neck, and San wants the man to stop looking at him so much. "Oh, I don't know..."

"Seriously, you should."

"I kinda already volunteered for reading duty," Wooyoung answers. "I'm in the mood for fairytales today."

He sounds drained, even with the easygoing smile on his face. San thinks back to their last encounter, of the things San had made him crash into. Wooyoung's the closest to impenetrable as one can get, but he's positive the man's never truly free from his many responsibilities.

San's appalled at himself and his thoughts. What do you care?

"When are you on reading duty?" Jongho asks the hero.

Wooyoung isn't slick at pretending he doesn't glance at San again. "In about thirty minutes. Why?"

San can't take it anymore. "Can we talk?"

Wooyoung's eyes are big under his bangs. "T-Talk?"

"Outside," San continues, casting Jongho a look that screams 'this is important'. The younger quickly gets it, soon running off to meet his friends.

San wastes no time marching towards the gates.

"Wait, San -- " Wooyoung ambles quickly behind him. "Wait up."

San only halts when they're totally outside the premises, and abruptly spins around. Wooyoung nearly knocks into him, hands grabbing San's arms to steady himself.

San hurriedly jerks away from Wooyoung's warm touch, his skin heated.

Wooyoung's ears redden, expression leaden with embarrassment. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry."

"Why are you here?" San gets straight to the point. The weather's almost too pretty to be mad in, with the picturesque blue sky, the joyous laughter coming from the shelter, the vibrant birdsong echoing through the air. And there's Wooyoung's right in front of him, all pink and tense while he hugs his arms, the breeze playing with his hair.

"Why am I here?" Wooyoung repeats, blinking as if snapping into focus. He quickly gets what San's trying so say, and he coughs, kicking a stray pebble. "Just felt like doing something good today."

"Bullshit."

Wooyoung looks at him in shock. "Excuse me?"

"Why are you really here, Wooyoung?" Because San really doesn't get it. The guy shows up once, and now for some reason he's everywhere, and San can't wring him out of his life. "You found out where I visit almost daily and found out my name, and now you're busy stalking me."

Wooyoung looks stunned, huffing in disbelief. "I am not stalking you, San. I don't even know you!"

"And I don't want you to," San snarls, already exhausted from this conversation. "I want you to just fuck off and go away." You're always there, and I'm sick of it.

With that he turns on his heel, but Wooyoung hand seizes his arm, grip inhumanely strong.

San grits his teeth. "Let go."

"Not until you tell me why you're so mean to me," Wooyoung says, twisting San around to meet his gaze. His grey eyes are a furious silver, sharp and intense. "Because I've been nothing but nice to you, yet you still hate me."

I don't hate you. San doesn't say these words out loud. He just averts his glare. "Please let go."

Something in his tone gets through to Wooyoung, because the man releases him a second later.

"Fuck," he swears, pulling up San's sleeve to observe his wrist. San doesn't recoil this time around. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Wooyoung confuses San greatly, and it doesn't help how San can't look him right in the eye without faltering or losing his composure.

"Truth is," Wooyoung says after a beat, dropping his arms to his sides. He kicks at another pebble. "I got...something back from someone. And -- I don't know -- I suddenly felt like coming here again. So here I am." A pause. "So I'm not stalking you, San, I promise."

Wooyoung says his name all gently as if it's something fragile or rare. It makes San's heart lurch, his stomach flopping over.

Wooyoung got his teleportation slide back, and he came here looking for me, the anxious part of San thinks, but he doesn't want to dwell on it too much right now.

"I mean, I guessed you'd be around, and I was right," Wooyoung goes on, blinking when they make eye-contact. "But I also wanted to make some children happy today."

San wants to convince himself Wooyoung's just faking his kindness and generosity, but the man's eyes are genuine, which makes San feel like a dick.

"Okay," he says.

"Can we talk later?" Wooyoung blurts, rubbing his neck.

"We just talked."

"Like, someplace other than Promise shelter."

San has no idea why Wooyoung is so interested in him, of all people. "Why?"

"Just wanna hang out with someone I like -- " Wooyoung clears his throat. "Friends. I want to be friends."

San hears Mingi's voice in his head. Heroes don't help Villains. San doesn't wreak havoc just for the fun of it, but Wooyoung can never know what he does. He and Wooyoung can't ever be friends.

"Forget I asked," Wooyoung soon comments after San takes too long to reply. He seriously looks bothered, even a little hurt.

"Jongho's craving some ice cream," San says before he thinks twice about it. What the hell are you doing? San has no idea. "We could get some. After reading duty."

Wooyoung fiddles with the hem of his sweater, expression more than relieved. "Okay."

After the hero's reading duty, they head out with Jongho to get the boy some ice cream. And when Jongho eventually has to go back, the sky's a gentle periwinkle that's etched with little twinkling stars, the blazing sun submerged beneath the horizon. The birdsong's replaced by crickets, their chirps filling the cool atmosphere.

San thinks of going back to his settlement but Wooyoung asks if he's feeling for some coffee.

Before the man knows it, he's in this diner with a cozy ember interior design and comforting background music, seated across from Wooyoung who orders them some pizza, wings and drinks. The 'coffee' is nowhere to be seen, but San doesn't mention it once.

"You're okay with that, right?" Wooyoung confirms with San. It's the second time the man's done this, twiddling with his beaded bracelets in the process. San has witnessed Wooyoung doing this enough to figure out it's a nervous tick of his.

And San knows all about nervous ticks.

"Yes." San looks around, glancing over the several tables that congregrate the diner. Excited chatter overwhelms the warm atmosphere, and it's a little too much.

Wooyoung exhales a sigh of relief, sinking into his chair. "Awesome. Because this place serves really good pizza and I wanted you to try some." He leans over his seat again, bubbling with enthusiasm. "You're so gonna love it. Seriously."

San nods. "Okay."

"You're not much of a talker, are you?" Wooyoung questions, but there's no malice in it. Only curiosity.

That doesn't prevent San from feeling a type of way about it. "And you talk a little too much."

With that, Wooyoung presses a hand over his chest like he's been shot. It makes San think of that pose he always does as The Golden Clover, four fingers over the heart. "Touché. But I admit, I can be a bit too nosy."

"A bit?"

Wooyoung's just as stunned as San is at how easily he creates a comeback. But Wooyoung also laughs afterwards, velvety and bright. "Wow, okay. I am nosy, I guess."

They lock eyes right then, but San is saved from his erratic heartbeat as their order is promptly served. The food looks admittedly appetizing, smells amazing too, but San reaches for his cherry soda first, craving something cold to cool him down.

Wooyoung's already pushing the pizza closer to him, smile eager yet unsure. "Go on, take a bite."

San, grateful to have his cap on as a sort of shield, bites into a slice to get the shorter off his back. The taste is rich, a umami combination of sauces, meat and cheese. It's terribly delicious.

"What do you think?" Wooyoung questions, cushioning his head into his palms.

"Do you usually hold people hostage over food?"

Wooyoung giggles, and San narrowly chokes on his slice. "No, but I like showing people I like, what I like."

San blinks, utterly confused. "...What?"

Wooyoung full on guffaws, his reaction catching the attention of several onlookers. But the guy does not care, even wiping away a tear. San is borderline concerned, fearing for the hero's mental state.

"Fuck, it's been a while since I laughed like this," Wooyoung says after he's calmed down. His eyes are still crinkled, happy, shimmering under the yellow lights. "Hope I didn't scare you off."

San shouldn't care for someone who already has everything, but he still finds himself asking, "Are you okay?"

Wooyoung stares to the side, nodding slowly. "Just kinda needed the break, I think."

San takes note of how Wooyoung avoids totally answering his question. "Alright."

"Your hair," Wooyoung swiftly changes the topic. He rolls up his sleeves, exposing his toned forearms to the air. It's more than easy to forget Wooyoung fights for a living whenever he's donned in those baggy outfits he wears when he isn't The Golden Clover, and now San kind of wishes Wooyoung didn't do that because that's all he can notice now.

"How'd you get it to that length?" Wooyoung continues, taking a bite of pizza himself.

San knows he doesn't have to reply (he dreads talking about anything on his face, even), but he still does. "I don't cut it."

"Oh." Wooyoung nods as if San just said something groundbreaking. "I don't see a lot of guys with longer hair. But it looks incredible. On you." He sips his drink, evading San's gaze. "Always wanted to try it too."

"Why don't you?" San doesn't care, so why is he egging Wooyoung on?

"The kind of work I do doesn't allow me to. Gotta keep it a certain length for profressionalism and all, to maintain my image," Wooyoung answers, revealing information about himself with little to no problems.

Just kinda needed the break, I think. The hero's words echo in San's mind, and he has to wonder if the guy just needed someone to talk to.

"What about you? What do you do for work?"

San hesitates, which Wooyoung picks up on.

"No need to say something you don't wanna say. This is our second time meeting, after all."

It's not. San fiddles around with his straw. "I just do whatever's available, as long as it pays."

Wooyoung nods, brows furrowed in thought. "Do you like it?"

"What?"

"Your job. Do you like it?"

"What kind of question is that?"

Wooyoung seems to realize how odd his question is too, because he clears his throat, ears red and expression awkward. "Sorry. Got kinda carried away."

"Just wanted to know more about you," he finishes. His ears darken, and before San can scramble through his thoughts for a response, the man points out the window. "The city's so pretty tonight."

It's quite obvious this is an attempt to relieve the tension in the air between them, but San follows his gaze regardless.

Utopion, as always, buzzes with more life at night. The streets are illuminated, several people out and about. It rained a bit earlier, so the roads reflect off the fluorescent buildings, a rainbow of lights. San's often too busy thinking about the future to savour the present, but right now he realizes just what he frequently misses. "It's beautiful."

Wooyoung's watching him out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah?"

San doesn't like how open Wooyoung makes him feel, but he nods regardless. "Yeah."

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a/n: honestly kinda of lost interest in a lot of things,, luckily this whole fic is already prewritten. trying to think positively and do what i can to cope but things barely change/get worse/suck so whats the point atp :/

but thanks for reading and commenting nice things on this fic and the other ones on my account, at least i have that