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« i'm always a little false
always a little fake
feelings are at stake »

Wooyoung spends over twenty minutes scrubbing off the words on his forehead. By the time he's done, his skin is red and raw, black frothy bubbles staining the once spotless bathroom sink. He sighs.

He can't stop thinking about San's words, though it doesn't stop him from trying to. He sees his reflection in the mirror and feels like an imposter, stuck trying to navigate a body as fake as the coloured contact covering his left eye and as shallow as the smiles he gives everyone.

His eyes glare at him through the mirror, those stupid bags under them making him look like a raccoon that did too much weed. But unlike him, raccoons aren't losers.

Stop thinking about it, a voice in Wooyoung's head yells at him, but it's hard.

He flips open the faucet and watches as the water washes the dirty soap away, wishing he was that soap.

Like San said earlier, a couple cleaners skitter into the mansion as the sun begins to set, out of sight and out of mind until they disappear off again.

Wooyoung doesn't see Choi San either, but it isn't like he wants to. Fortunately, Hongjoong relays him the WiFi passcode, and as soon as he does Hongjoong video calls him on the tablet through Skype.

"Hey, Wooyoung!" Hongjoong greets through the screen, grinning broadly. It's relatively dark wherever he is, golden yellow lights fanning half his face.

Wooyoung's lips stretch into a smile that looks far less enthusiastic. "Hey, Hongjoong-ssi."

"Hey, none of that." Hongjoong nods at something ahead of him, eyes flickering over to Wooyoung again. They sparkle, even under his glasses. "Just 'Hongjoong' is fine. Or 'hyung'. Anyway, I'm being driven to the airport right now, but I wanted to check how everything's going with San. Good, I hope?"

Wooyoung nods tersely. "Yeah. Yeah, everything's good. I also met Mingi-ssi. He's very nice."

He's not sure Hongjoong believes him, but the blue haired man looks distracted enough to not notice a thing.

"That's good. Listen, I tried to call San a few minutes ago, but he wasn't picking up," Hongjoong explains, flipping open a page of a...book, maybe. "I guess he must still be in one of his moods. Don't worry, he'll get better."

Wooyoung nods again. 'Loser' echoes in his head, and he slightly winces. "Okay."

"Are you alright?"

The question catches Wooyoung off-guard, as he hadn't expected anything of the sort. He remembers the times he used to get that question from others, a majority of them from strangers he couldn't care less about. It didn't take him long to realize it's more so out of cordiality than anything else, because no one actually wants to know how you're doing; they just do it to seem like the good guy.

But, when Hongjoong asks it, he sounds concerned. Sincere. He's a man he met just yesterday that's looking now at him through a screen, but it's more genuine than any of the frivolous ones he'd gotten over the years.

Wooyoung isn't as sincere, however. He lies. "I'm alright."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." Wooyoung runs his tongue over his teeth. "Take care, hyung. Have a safe flight."

Hongjoong grins warmly, undoubtedly pleased. "Thank you."

Then, the call ends, and Wooyoung is now by himself. The silence inside his spacious room grows more recognizable, until he can't ignore it any longer. It's easy to pretend he isn't alone when it'd just been him in the cramped space that was his old bedroom, counting down the days until he could save enough money to leave his apartment, instead of counting stars like what other people did.

Now, that isn't the case anymore. Not when every move he makes in this room resounds heavily through the walls, not when he's on a bed big enough for two, especially not when he looks through the tall sliding windows and sees trees instead of impatient neighbours waltzing down busy streets.

This is all so new, but this is the new he has to get used to. For now.

* * *

"So... Sannie is kind of a handful, right?" Mingi teases as he expertly chops the vegetables while Wooyoung stands beside him, his cooking skills inadequate in comparison. 'They're for you and I' was what Mingi said once he started, because they both knew Choi San despises them.

Wooyoung shrugs at his question, his go-to response when he's at a loss of words. It's weird though, because his mind never sleeps, always buzzing with a myriad of thoughts (most of them negative), and sometimes they even cost him sleep at night. But when it comes to speaking his thoughts and feelings out loud, nothing wants to leave.

"Don't let it discourage you, though," Mingi continues, casting the younger man a glance as he slices an onion perfectly in half. Frightening. "San's usually like that with people he doesn't know too well."

"He said I'm his Number Three."

And sometimes, Wooyoung speaks his mind when he least wants to.

Mingi chuckles, but it lacks any emotion. "Yeah. Does it bother you?"

"...No."

Mingi stares at Wooyoung, but Wooyoung looks away once their eyes lock. "You want to ask me something. Go on, I'm not stopping you."

Wooyoung fiddles with his gloved fingers, wriggles them. "You showed up this morning and now, but not in the afternoon."

"Yes. Busy with chef things," Mingi jokes, to which Wooyoung smiles at. "Also Sannie usually just orders out during the afternoons since I'm not around then."

"So, he doesn't have anyone else to cook for him?" Wooyoung hopes he doesn't sound judgemental or anything.

Luckily, Mingi doesn't appear offended when he answers, "No one else cooks for him except for me, and when I do I always eat with him. He doesn't allow anyone else."

"Why?" Wooyoung scoots away a little at the smell of the onions. He's not particularly in the mood to cry tonight, thank you very much.

"It's kinda complicated," Mingi smoothly answers, as if he's responded to this exact question before. "What? Are you thinking of cooking for him?"

Wooyoung's mouth parts, then smacks shut like a blubbering fish. He flushes hotly at the sound of Mingi's laughter. "N-No, I -- "

"I'm just kidding." Though the taller male doesn't look quite convinced. He stares at Wooyoung's face with an observant glint in his eyes.

"Contacts."

"What?"

"You have them on. At least -- " Mingi gestures at his own left eye, "one right there. I just noticed because of the lights."

"Uh." Wooyoung chews his bottom lip, chest excruciatingly tight. He inhales a deep breath. "Yeah, I do."

"Eye things?"

Wooyoung smiles and nods. "Eye things."

Wooyoung soon discovers Mingi always has a set 'theme' whenever he prepares anything. This morning was 'American'. Now, it's 'pasta'.

As Wooyoung sets the plates, noting the changed tablecloth, San strolls into the dining hall with a frog plushie in his arms this time, dressed in velvety lilac pjs that forms a noticeable contrast against his pale skin.

Wooyoung doesn't know he's staring too much until Mingi intentionally takes away the empty plate in his hands, snapping him back to reality.

'What are you doing?' Mingi mouths once San is out of earshot. Half of him is amused, while the other half is... something else Wooyoung can't decipher.

'Nothing,' Wooyoung mouths back with a shrug that's too forceful to be normal. He doesn't even know what he's doing either.

No one says anything when San hugs his plushie as he eats, and dinner is silent.

Wooyoung digs into his lasagna, making himself as small as he possibly can. It's so quiet you can hear a pin drop, but he seems like the only one who notices, or even cares.

He sneaks a discreet glance at Mingi. The guy is unbothered as he gradually finishes up his meal, not appearing at all awkward or out of place. He's used to this.

Wooyoung suddenly feels eyes on him, and when he turns he directly meets Choi San's gaze. Holy --

The fork in his hand clanks against the floor, slicing the silence in half. Wooyoung watches with stunned eyes as the mess it makes, but that's before all the embarrassment crashes down on him like a tidal wave.

He pushes back his chair, but that just makes more noise. "I --" fuck, "I'll clean up -- "

"No, let me do it." Mingi is quick on his feet, already beside Wooyoung before the shorter knows it. His face burns when Mingi swiftly gets rid of the mess, shame swirling his gut because he just stands there, too preoccupied with his dumbass self to be of any use. He's an idiot.

He hears laughter.

Looking up, Wooyoung sees the bright smile on San's face. He doesn't even bother hiding it, and Wooyoung catches sight of deep dimples before Mingi starts reprimanding him.

"Stop laughing," Mingi's telling Choi San, but Wooyoung doesn't hear the rest because San decides to march off like an upset toddler right then, leaving them in a tense silence.

"...Shit," Mingi whispers. He sounds tired. "Sorry you had to witness that."

"It's okay," Wooyoung clears his throat. It's unnecessarily dry. "It's my fault anyway."

"No, no. You just made a mistake, but San," Mingi pulls off his glasses, rubs his forehead. "He's just..."

He trails off, as if he expects Wooyoung to just get it. But Wooyoung can't ever get it, because he's just a stranger to Choi San, and that's all he most likely ever will be.

But even with this, he plasters on a forced smile, and he lies again. "No. It's okay. I get it."

* * *

The first thing Wooyoung does when he wakes up the next morning is panic, heartbeat rattling loudly beneath his ribs with every hasty inhale he takes.

He calms down when he realizes where he is, but his heart rate picks up once he reads the time on the digital clock displayed on top his bedside table. 8:17 AM.

Shit. He flips off the thick white duvet off his body, but freezes when he notices the midnight blue initials glowing below the time. SUN.

It's Sunday. Wooyoung stays in that position for some time, contemplating if he should say 'fuck it' and go back to sleep, but with the way his heart's beating and his rapid thoughts, he figures dozing off would be practically impossible to do now.

And it's infuriating.

Wooyoung shuffles off the bed, still not used to how cozy it is, and mindlessly rubs his hands over his messy black hair to try and fix the bird's nest it most likely looks like. Stifling a yawn, he then twists down the door handle, planning to find the nearest bathroom and look at least half presentable for the day ahead.

He nearly walks right into the figure standing in front of his room, and shouts.

"Oh my god." Wooyoung takes a clumsy step back, seeing a purple pyjama set that looks familiar. It takes him a hot minute to find out who the person is.

San stays there in the middle of the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. "Good morning."

Wooyoung blinks, stares at him again. The older's eyes are like steel, jaws clenched and lips pursed. They're still pink, even with how early it is.

Wooyoung gulps. "Hey. Good morning."

Something shifts in San's expression, the harshness in his dark brown eyes loosening. He looks at Wooyoung like he's seeing him for the first time.

Wooyoung winces, shock grappling his senses. His eye.

He immediately swerves around, hiding the left side of his face from view. "Fuck," he mutters.

"Wooyoung -- " San says his name instead of that stupid 'Mr Nag Nag' or whatever other nickname he has for him, but Wooyoung's too alarmed to notice or care.

"Go away," Wooyoung commands, shoving his hand out when he sees how close San has gotten.

"What -- your eye -- " San, for the first time ever, is fumbling for words to say, and it just heightens Wooyoung's panic.

Wooyoung pushes him before he can stop himself. "I said go away! Get out!"

San stubbornly stands still, but the softness his eyes previously held have completely dissolved. His deathly cold stare makes Wooyoung shudder. "I admit, I treated you badly yesterday. So I decided to come over to greet you, maybe try and fix things. But I now know I shouldn't have even bothered. You're a fucking jerk."

San strides out of Wooyoung's room right then -- no, not his room, because he's just a stranger and all this will never belong to him -- and Wooyoung internally crumbles, like he's made of paper. And maybe he is, because he doesn't feel real. None of this does.

He's managed to fuck things up -- again, and now he's sure he's gonna get fired, on his second day on the job, no less. A new record.

He tells himself he'll be fine with it if it happens.

Liar.

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a/n: thoughts?