* * *

« there's a lot of things i want
just didn't know you were
going to be one of them »

13 things Jung Wooyoung wants for his 13th birthday !
(⭐ = like)
(⭐⭐ = really like)
(⭐⭐⭐ = love)
(❤️ = really really love )

1. Want to have the best birthday ever (I want it so bad) ⭐⭐⭐

2. Want to look different/better ⭐⭐⭐

3. Want my parents to like me ⭐⭐

4. Want to go to the movies to watch my favourite movie ! ⭐⭐

5. Want to have a birthday breakfast from mom
⭐⭐⭐

6. Want cute gifts !! ⭐⭐⭐

7. Want my parents to love each other again ⭐⭐

8. Want to have an awesome birthday party ! ⭐⭐⭐❤️

9. Want to be popular ⭐⭐

10. Want to have the best time in highschool ⭐⭐⭐

11. Want to have a lot of friends ! ⭐⭐⭐❤️

12. Want to be rich so I can do whatever I want ⭐⭐⭐

13. I want to be happy ⭐⭐⭐⭐❤️❤️⭐

Wooyoung doesn't know why he dreams of the stupid wishlist he made a week before his thirteenth birthday, when all that resulted from it was his parents having a huge fight and him spending the rest of the day hating himself.

It's now been nine years -- so his memory of that day is a bit rough around the edges -- but he does know he never attempted making another wishlist after that.

Wooyoung hears a rustle just beside him, and he frowns, his eyes squinting open. He's met with darkness at first, and then a silhouette that lingers at his peripheral vision.

"Happy birthday Mr Nag Nag!"

Wooyoung shuffles to the back so quickly his head hits the wall. He groans out loud at the flaring pain, and it feels much worse when he hears a familiar giggle.

"Oh my god. You okay?" San's voice asks, a trace of amusement in it, but Wooyoung doesn't respond. Only clamps his hands over his face, feeling nothing less than shitty at San witnessing him in such a horrid state.

"Are you alright?" San tries again. This time, he sounds serious.

Wooyoung keeps his palms over his face, and shakes his head. "...No. I...why are you here?" He cringes at how hoarse his voice is.

"It's your birthday," San deadpans. There's a pause. "...Oh. I'm so sorry. I'll turn around and -- sorry."

Wooyoung drops his hands to see that San did as he said he would, and then searches for his brown contacts as quickly as his tired limbs can allow.

When he darkens his left eye, he blinks, and adjusts himself to the dim lighting of his bedroom. "Thank you..."

San turns, and Wooyoung gapes.

The older man's dressed in what classifies as a long shirt, and it's sunshine yellow, matching with his knee-high socks that have little hearts on them. In his hands is a plate with a frosted cupcake that's got a cherry on top, as well as one candle in the middle that casts a faint orange glow over the room.

San grins not-so-innocently, while Wooyoung looks away again. "Good morning."

"Good morning to you too." Wooyoung plays with his fingers, trying really hard to ignore the way San's dressed.

"You're twenty-two now," San continues, shifting closer to Wooyoung on the bed. He holds up the plate, a twinkle in his eye. "Happy birthday. Hope all your wishes come true!"

Wooyoung exhales a breath, loosening his muscles when he realizes how stiff he's become. "T-Thanks." He clears his throat, goosebumps lining his arms at the smell of San's floral perfume. "And thanks for the, um, cupcake."

San laughs. "You're welcome. But you know..." he leans in, not too much that it disregards Wooyoung's personal space, but it still sends his heart pounding. "When you're being offered a cake -- or a cupcake -- for your birthday, you really should make a wish and blow on the candle."

"Oh -- right," Wooyoung stutters. He huffs and extinguishes the candle's meagre flame before a wish can enter his head, and then there's silence for a couple of seconds.

"Well... That was anti-climactic," San says.

"Yeah. Sorry." Wooyoung stares right at him before he can stop himself. His chest constricts at the warmth in San's eyes, and how shiny his lips are. Lip balm? Lipgloss? Wooyoung's gaze falls when he realizes he's staring at the older's mouth.

San pulls off the sparkly candle on the cupcake, then passes the plate to him. "Eat it. I made it myself. You like chocolate, right?"

"I...I do," Wooyoung nods, raking his fingers down his unruly locks. Embarrassment washes over him because San saw him like this, even though he knows it doesn't matter anymore.

He takes the cupcake, chewing on the cherry first. He slows down as soon as he notices San's unrelenting stare. "...What are you doing?"

"I wanna know what you think of the cupcakeee," San replies. "So hurry uuupp."

"Okay okay, fine." Wooyoung bites into the chocolate cupcake -- or what's supposed to be a chocolate cupcake, and feels his heart stop. And it's not because he's utterly wowed by the delicious, scrumptious flavour of the cupcake, but because this is genuinely the most disgusting and revolting cupcake he's ever tasted. Ever.

His eyes grow large due to shock (and horror), but he forces the bite he took down his throat, fighting the insane urge to hurl.

San expectantly stares at him, eyes bright with anticipation. "How is it?"

Goddamn horrible. Tastes like absolute garbage what the fuck. "It's good."

"Really?"

Wooyoung quickly nods. "Yeah." Gordon Ramsay would faint if he ever tasted this crap.

"That's good!" San exclaims with a loud sigh of relief, and claps a little. "I was honestly so worried it wouldn't turn out great. I bet you didn't know, but this is my first time ever making a cupcake."

"Oh really." Wooyoung attempts another bite. His throat internally screams, but he still swallows down the hellish concoction San calls a cupcake. He has no idea why he's lying about the taste to make the older man feel better, but he can't stop. Not when San probably woke up early to make it for him.

"You must really like it, huh?" San comments, his airy laughter ringing in Wooyoung's ears and accelerating his heartbeat, which he hates.

"Mhm,"  Wooyoung nods, sending silent prayers to his stomach. "It's -- it's amazing." This cupcake can cause a zombie apocalypse. This cupcake can start a global pandemic.

San eyes the half-finished 'chocolate' cupcake, and then a small smile flits over his features. He scoots towards Wooyoung. "...Can I try?"

"What?" Wooyoung dumbly blurts.

"The cupcake." San's voice is lowered and husky, alternating between staring into Wooyoung's eyes and the cupcake. "I wanna try it too. Want you to feed me -- "

Wooyoung shoves the rest of the cake into his mouth with such speed he nearly chokes on it. His stomach twists and turns in protest. Fuck, this is fucking horrible.

San raises his eyebrows in confusion, and then realization flutters in. "...Oh my god."

"...What?" Wooyoung questions through a mouthful of iced death.

"You like my cupcake this much," San squeals, slapping Wooyoung on his thigh, squeezing it. "I think you'll like the other ones I made."

Wooyoung's mouth drops. "O-Other ones?"

"Yeah." San's hand still lingers on the younger's thigh, his touch burning through his skin. "I made like, about four more. All with different flavours too! I know you'll love them."

Oh fuck. Wooyoung feels like he's going to die.

* * *

Wooyoung makes it to his Media class on time, still wincing at the disgusting aftertaste of the cupcakes San made for him this morning, all of them similar variations of outrageously bad.

You did this to yourself, Wooyoung's mind berates as he rushes to find one of the seats located at the back. If only you were more honest, you wouldn't have to eat the rest of them.

But Wooyoung's always had a problem voicing out his thoughts when he needs to the most. He'd never said a word to defend himself against his father's verbal attacks at his weight, never stepped in to show his mother enough was enough when she wouldn't stop insulting him for just breathing and being alive. He allowed people to walk over him and say whatever they they wanted about him all these years, so why does he suddenly expect himself to change now?

So when Mrs Nam brings up the topic about how news headlines can influence public opinion -- by using none other than some news article written about the CEO of Choi's Highlight's return to his company just two days ago -- Wooyoung stays still in his seat, internally bursting with rage at the heated debate that follows between the rest of the other students.

Of course, Wooyoung doesn't say much nor does he add anything of value to the discussion, not when he's been taught from a very young age that his thoughts and emotions don't matter. But he can't stop himself from fuming on the inside when he hears the multiple speculations coming from the students' mouths.

The anger he feels grows when Mrs Nam does nothing to stop the lies, probably happy that for once a bunch of people are actually participating in her bullshit course.

You don't know him. None of you do. Wooyoung wants to scream this at the top of his lungs, but he can't, because his one and only connection to Choi San is supposed to be a secret. You people don't know what he's really like.

And you do? A small voice at the back of Wooyoung's head taunts right then. He deflates, his mood ruined for the entire class.

He never gets out of his funk even when he's done with his classes for the day, and as he gets driven home by Mr Kim, he keeps thinking about his Media class and what those students said about San.

Wooyoung exhales deeply as soon as he enters the house, intending on just retreating to his room for the rest of the day. Maybe then the tightness in his chest would cease, maybe then he'd stop feeling so guilty for staying silent.

San doesn't -- and won't know anything, so stop thinking about it. He rubs the back of his hair, only to stop at what he sees next.

On the marble floors lies a paper arrow. It's large, and colourful, and on it reads GO TO YOUR ROOM in huge, neat hangul.

Wooyoung's hand clenches tighter around his bag. "San...?" He says out loud, warmth travelling to his cheeks.

He hurries down the hall to where his bedroom his located, too eager for whatever's in store for him to feel embarrassed or childish about his actions.

Stumbling inside the spacious room, he spots something rectangular wrapped in glittering purple paper splayed across the fuzzy carpet, and drops his bag, heading over to it. It takes him a moment to realize how big it is, its length more than half of his life-sized mirror.

What is this? Wooyoung kneels, tugging off the red ribbons adorning the surface of the 'gift' as gently as he can. His heart's beating erratically, feeling too enormous for his chest as a swarm of emotions overwhelm him right then.

Eventually, a childlike sort of impatience grips him, and then he's ripping apart the iridescent wrapping to discover what's underneath.

"...Oh my god," Wooyoung covers his mouth and laughs. In front of him, on a portrait of sorts, is San himself dressed like a British aristocrat with the white powdered wig and all. He's got a goofy ass grin on his face, sitting on a freaking magenta coloured unicorn as they pose in a field of flowers that stretches out into the horizon.

What the fuck.

Wooyoung laughs again, and this time it's loud and high-pitched, but he can't find it in him to stop because he's just so entertained and disturbed. What even?

He yanks off the note plastered at the corner, steadying himself so he won't fall over due to how much he's laughing.

'Hang this in your room so you'll never get bored again. I paid a lot for this.

Xoxo, San hyung.

p.s, as soon as you read this, please step out of your room for another surprise.'

It isn't a surprise anymore if you tell me I'm getting one, idiot, Wooyoung thinks, but he's grinning. A lot. Like, so much he fears his face will split in half.

He does as San asks, but he's still shell-shocked when he catches sight of San loitering in the middle of the corridor, donned in nothing but a silky black robe that highlights the fairness of his skin, and holding something Wooyoung can't recognize in his hands.

"Hey," Wooyoung breaks the silence, gulping when San shortens the distance between them in record timing. Up close, Wooyoung finds it even harder to maintain eye contact with the man. "Thanks for the...gift? It was -- well, it was something."

San chuckles, a low sound that has Wooyoung's insides spinning. "I look quite amazing in that portrait, if I can say so myself."

"I feel like putting it up on the wall's gonna give me nightmares."

San playfully shoves Wooyoung's shoulder. "Oh stop it. I know you love it." He grins broadly at the younger. "I can see your smile."

Wooyoung clears his throat, pretending to act all nonchalant. He juts his chin at what San's hiding behind him. "What's that?"

San pulls out two flight tickets, smiling coyly.

"No way," Wooyoung gasps, taking a step back. "No way. Oh my god, why?"

"'Cause I want to take you somewhere new for your birthday?" San answers as if it's obvious. "Visiting another country alone sucks."

Wooyoung blinks, finding it difficult to calm his thoughts. "Thank you, so much, but I -- I can't accept this."

San's expression falls. "Why?"

Wooyoung runs his hands down his hair, inhaling shallow breaths. "I've got exams coming up, and I -- I've got to study and -- and you're spending money on me again -- "

"It's only for this weekend, won't be for a month or whatever you're thinking of," San swiftly explains. He's nearer now, right hand clasped on Wooyoung's shoulder. It drags him back to reality, grounds him. "And you can always study in Jeju island."

"I'm going to Jeju island?" Wooyoung freaks out even more. All of a sudden, he's his annoying and lonely thirteen-year-old self again, wishing he could go to Jeju Island with his parents at least once in his lifetime.

"We're going to Jeju island," San cheers. Then, he's stretching his arms out. "Are you happy? Or are you happy?"

"You're so irritating," Wooyoung mumbles, but he reduces the space between him and San to nothing, allowing the older man to pull him close into a bone-crushing, consoling hug.

This isn't the first time Wooyoung's hugging San, but this time...this time it feels a bit different. San smells so nice, like fresh flowers in Spring, and some other alluring scent. Wooyoung doesn't feel like letting him go. Not yet.

San pets his hair, cautiously at first, but then his fingers are stroking it, and it feels too good that Wooyoung doesn't complain.

"Why are we hugging?" Wooyoung asks, voice muffled on San's wide chest.

"No idea. But I like it," San laughs. His hand inches down Wooyoung's face, before cupping his cheek. He laughs even harder at the way Wooyoung stiffens under his touch. "Are you okay?"

Wooyoung's entire face feels like he just inhaled a mouthful of lava. He can't pay attention to anything other than San's freaking hand on his cheek. "Yeah. I, uhm, I'm okay."

"You're so cute."

Wooyoung looks at San, and the man seems just as taken aback by his words as he himself is.

"I mean, you have cute reactions to everything," San states, dropping his arms as he retreats. "And that's...cute."

"Oh." Wooyoung's throat is so fucking dry, he wants to punch himself unconscious. That doesn't even make any sense.

Luckily, San prevents the awkward atmosphere from extending longer than it needs to.

"Come on," he says, "let's head to the sitting room and go watch a movie or something."

Wooyoung's dumb wishlist appears in his head again. "A movie?"

"Yeah," San nods, eyes sparkling just as much as his robe. "Since you're the birthday boy, we'll watch whatever you pick."

An idea pops into Wooyoung's head. He faces San, and cocks his head to the side with a grin. "Got any alcohol?"

San's eyes darken with challenge. "Pfft. You act as if I don't have a whole wine cellar."

Wooyoung's brows raise. "You do?"

"Yeah. But I don't drink much, just so you know." San crosses his arms over his chest. "But, I'm willing to change that today just for you."

"Okay, okay, whatever. Where's the wine?"

"Wow, so impatient are we?"

Wooyoung giggles. "I was just kidding, by the way. I'm actually really grateful you're doing all this for me. Thanks a lot, hyung."

San's smile is loving when he waves him off. Shy. He's shy. "It's no biggie. Hey, what movie should we watch? Y'know, before it gets super late and all?"

Wooyoung heats up some frozen pizza, gathers all the wines that interest him from San's impressive cellar, and makes them watch The Greatest Showman when he learns San's never watched the musical.

"Okay. So it's confirmed; you really are a sap for romance," San concludes as the movie starts. They're both huddled up on the couch in blankets that fight off the cold, the pizza and bottles of wine on the table before them.

"Shh," Wooyoung responds, making jazz hands. "You've gotta pay attention, dude."

A part of Wooyoung's nervous, mostly because The Greatest Showman's one of his favourite movies (he knows every song and every scene by heart now), and he isn't sure if San's going to end up liking it.

As the movie progresses, Wooyoung alternates between eating pizza, drinking, and watching San's reaction to the scenes.

And San, he's completely immersed, following every single word the characters say, even bopping his head to the songs they sing sometimes. Wooyoung often finds himself staring at how the musical plays out on his dark, reflective eyes, than on the TV itself.

Wooyoung forgets about the pizza at one point, and he swears he's starting to get super drunk because Rewrite the Stars shouldn't feel this emotional.

But Wooyoung continues to drink anyway, liking the heat that cloaks his chest with each sip he takes. San is warm too, arms rubbing against Wooyoung's every once in a while. It's all sensory overload.

"So," he begins when the movie ends, voice just a little slurred. "How was it?"

San takes a bite of pizza. It's then Wooyoung realizes the man didn't eat or drink much at all during the entire movie's duration. "It was nice."

"Nice?"

"Yeah." San chuckles. "It was...beautiful."

Wooyoung chews his lip, relieved. "You think it's beautiful."

"Yeah."

"Well..." Wooyoung's breath hitches at San's hand on his knee. "What song..." He blinks, mind a little hazy. "What song's your favourite?"

"I like Never Enough a lot," San answers, and somehow, Wooyoung expected him to say that. He remembers that scene as well, when Jenny Lind took the stage and sang her heart out, and he especially can remember the way San looked at that moment, this content, gentle smile on his lips. And how --

"I also really like the song at the beginning. A Million Dreams, is it? It's nice, reminds me of my parents. What's your favourite song?"

"I like, uh," Wooyoung rubs his forehead, trying to search through his cluttered thoughts for the right words to say. San's laughter reverberates in his ears, caressing his heart. "This Is Me. Yeah, that one."

"That one's cool too." San watches him, and then, "Are you alright?"

"You said A Million Dreams reminds you of your parents. Why?" If San's bothered by the way Wooyoung avoids the subject, he doesn't let it show.

He chuckles, but his eyes are hooded, serious. "Dad didn't come from a rich family, but...but mom still supported him until he became successful..."

Wooyoung fails to notice how San's smile falters. He pouts instead. "My parents aren't."

"I know."

"Meanie." Wooyoung takes a swig of wine.

"I didn't mean to be rude. At least they're helping you out, right?"

"As if. They don't help me with shit. I got into college by myself, with my money, but..." Wooyoung leans into the couch, "it's so hard these days. Everything is."

"...Maybe you should quit. I...I see how you look every morning when you're ready to go to your classes, like you'd rather do something else. You don't look happy anytime you talk about school, Wooyoung," San says. His unwavering stare makes Wooyoung feel more lightheaded.

"You should quit being a CEO too," Wooyoung states. He's so intoxicated he has no problem staring into San's eyes. "You don't look like you like it."

San's face is blank. "It's complicated."

"Just like my whole life is complicated." Wooyoung opens a new bottle of wine. "Like, I wish I could un-complicate it, but it's too complicated to get un-complicated, ya know? Nothing ever goes my way."

"I'm here."

Wooyoung pauses, then shrugs. "And?"

San looks nervous. "I'm here for you."

"We hardly know each other."

"I know," San licks his lips, his Adam's apple bobbing, "but I want to know more about you..."

Something like electric sparks ignite Wooyoung's skin when he sees San lean in, or maybe he's just imagining it? He thinks he is, but San's hands framing his cheeks certainly feel real.

A smile Wooyoung's sure looks pretty crazy stretches over his face at that moment. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you wanna kiss me so bad."

San swallows, but doesn't say anything. He shifts closer, only to get stopped by Wooyoung taking yet another large sip of wine.

"I think you're drinking too much," San says, grabbing the bottle out of Wooyoung's hands.

"No, no." Wooyoung shakes his head, whining like a kid. "I want more, more, more! I wanna drink and drink until I die!"

"Oh gosh. No more drinks for you tonight, Nag Nag." San takes all the bottles that aren't empty and brings them to the kitchen while the younger male keeps groaning.

"I want to drink!" Wooyoung yells when San returns, but doesn't complain when the older man rests his head on his lap.

"I know something even better than drinking, baby," San whispers, fingers in Wooyoung's hair.

"What?"

"A song." San hums the melody of Never Enough, then sings it out loud, and for a while, Wooyoung listens, realizing the man doesn't sound half bad.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Wooyoung comments, smiling when San laughs. "Now you're just boasting about how good you are at singing, and how better you are in comparison to me."

San's laughter fades. "...How can you say that?"

"You're goodlooking and rich; I'm not," Wooyoung replies.

"You are goodlooking. You may not be rich, but you're so much more than that -- "

"I'm not." Wooyoung's voice sounds so harsh, so bitter it startles him. "I'm nothing compared to you."

San's jaw clenches. "That's not true."

"It is, you don't need to lie. I'm never enough, just like your favourite song from that movie," Wooyoung explains. He isn't even sure he's making sense anymore, but that's how it always is whenever he's caught up in his feelings. His thoughts start racing too quickly for his lips to catch up. "And that's okay, I guess. I'm not special, just like a majority of people on this earth, and that -- that is fine. I'm okay with being a loser."

"You are not a loser."

"You said it yourself, though. You said I'm a loser, and I am, so I'm not mad at you."

"Goddammit, Wooyoung." There's something in San's tone he's never heard before, and when the man brings him to his chest he realizes he's crying. They both are. "I'm the biggest idiot in the universe, and calling you a loser is the greatest lie I've ever told. I'm so sorry."

Wooyoung sniffs, burying his head in San's shoulder as sobs tumble out his lips. He's such a wreck.

"You're beautiful. Every part of you, including your eyes."

"My eyes?"

"Yeah. Prettiest eyes I've ever seen," San says, rubbing his back.

"T-That's a lie."

"I'm not lying, I swear. I...I think they're unique, something you deserve to be proud of," San answers.

Wooyoung wipes off the tears staining his cheeks. "I don't think I believe you. You're...you're literally perfect, and I'm me."

"Thanks for the compliment. But I'm not perfect, not even close. First, I snore a lot. Secondly, I'm literally so messy when I'm not in little space. Thirdly, I snore a lot -- "

Wooyoung snorts at the repetition, but his tears and the alcohol in his veins make it come out all garbled.

"Fourthly, I'm not so satisfied with my body."

"Come on," Wooyoung rolls his eyes. "I bet you have abs."

San stares down at the younger man, eyes crinkled and shimmering. "I love my six-pack."

"Of course."

San giggles, and so does Wooyoung. "But, my body isn't perfect, but that's okay, because no human is perfect. We all have something we're insecure of, but at least I'm here for you, and you for me, and we can get through it, together."

"I'm drunk, and when I'm drunk, I cry," Wooyoung says. "And I'm an ugly crier."

"You're far from an ugly crier."

"Stop..."

"You've got a smile that puts the sun to shame, and when you laugh, it motivates me. And -- and when I look at you sometimes, I feel like I can do anything. You make my heart beat quickly too, sometimes, and I -- Wooyoung?"

Wooyoung fell asleep.

"...Aish," San smiles softly at the sight of Wooyoung sleeping in his arms, fists clutching the fabric of his robe, but then frowns. "He forgot to take out his contacts."

After attempting to wake Wooyoung all to no avail, he painstakingly removes that brown contact covering the younger's eye, trying not to freak out. Contacts seriously scare him.

San feels his breath leave him for the nth time that night when vibrant sea green greets his vision. He doesn't think he can ever get tired of seeing Wooyoung's eyes.

Wooyoung suddenly punches his chest. "Stupid crab, trying to pinch me."

San's heart races. You may think you aren't enough, but to me, you're starting to be. I'm beginning to feel enough too, with you.

* * *

a/n: merry christmas! thoughts?