010: choi san is a problem
tw: anxiety attack, slight mature content(??)
* * *
« the thing about you
is that you're beginning to be a little too good to be true »
After Wooyoung finishes his classes on Thursday, he enters a salon and gets a haircut.
Doesn't really know why, but maybe it has something to do with the way his bangs have been falling into his eyes lately, obstructing some of his vision. And it's weird, because only a few months ago he'd decided to let his hair grow as long as he'd allow it, because he couldn't stand to look at his face in the mirror.
Now, his hair's a typical length for the average Korean male, bangs just barely grazing his eyelids, but this time, the barber quiffs the right side away from his face, exposing half of his normally hidden forehead. And this time, Wooyoung doesn't mind it too much.
He enters San's house at around quarter past five, looking through the special jjigae recipe Mingi had sent to him on his phone when he catches the older man in the sitting room, chuckling brightly at something with his back facing Wooyoung.
"Yeah, yeah. Nothing's gonna happen, Joongie. Wooyoung is going to be with me anyways. And no -- it won't affect anything because it's gonna be a weekend vacay. Like I said earlier, I'll be careful -- No." San runs a hand down his long hair, shoulders tensing. "No, why would you say that? Nothing's going on between u -- " he turns, abruptly halting his words just as he notices Wooyoung.
A smile spreads across San's face, while the younger's ears warm up. "You look really good. Wait -- no I wasn't talking about you, Hongjoongie. I can't even see you. Yeah, Wooyoung's back." San's eyes trail after Wooyoung while the younger man places his bag on the couch. "Joongie says hi."
"Hi, Hongjoong hyung," Wooyoung replies, a little stiff. He hears laughter on the other line, and his ears burn even more.
"Good day, Wooyoung. Heard you're leaving for Jeju island tomorrow. Hope you two have fun," Hongjoong speaks, and for some reason that makes Wooyoung all the more flustered since the older man is in on it now.
"We will, I guess."
"You heard that, right? So no need to worry, and get some rest will you? Talk to you later. Bye, love you," San says into the phone, and then he's blowing a kiss before ending the call.
Love you? Kiss? Wooyoung's mind spins with these thoughts until he feels a little dizzy. "Are you both -- " he stops, wanting to slam his head against the wall. He's so stupid, because what kind of nonsense question was he about to ask?
Unfortunately, San hears him. "Are we what?"
Wooyoung clears his throat, shuffles his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "A-Are you two dating?"
San's expression blanks, but then he's grinning wide, surprising Wooyoung. "Oh my god -- we are."
Something heavy pierces Wooyoung's chest, so sudden he feels like he'll tumble over. "You are?"
"Yeah," San shrugs, rubbing the sleeves of his form-fitting black sweater. "Well, we're planning to get married too. We also already have two kids and they're in Harvard, studying to become worldwide famous Kpop idols."
Wooyoung blinks. "You're joking."
San laughs, hand landing on Wooyoung's bicep. "Of course I am. Why would I date someone who's like a brother to me? If he were another guy, then yes, maybe. But then again, I'm so not interested in Hongjoong."
"Another guy?" Wooyoung blurts, feeling like he's experiencing one whiplash after another. Is he into guys? Is he gay?
San tucks some of his hair behind his ear, his warm eyes observing Wooyoung's face. "Yeah? I like men."
Wooyoung chokes on air, and the older man is behind him in an instant, palm rubbing his back. Wooyoung starts to cough.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Wooyoung forces out. Before, he'd had his doubts even when he saw the way San looked at him at times, but now, there was no denying it. Now, he's crudely aware of the older's chest pressed against his back, of his hands supporting his arms. The contact sends his heart racing, so much so that he feels a little sick.
"Is that the recipe Mingi sent you on your phone?" San asks, the topic on his sexuality already done and dealt with for him. His hands are still on Wooyoung's arms though, his rich floral cologne consuming Wooyoung's senses. "Maybe I should take over dinner tonight. You should rest."
Those cupcakes San made for him on Monday flash across Wooyoung's mind. "No!" He exclaims, then lowers his voice. "No. I mean -- I'll take care of it. I'm fine. Nothing's wrong with me."
Nothing's wrong with me, but why is my heart beating so quickly?
"What are you making?" San, once again, looks unbothered. Instead, there's an excited smile on his face as Wooyoung turns around.
"Jjigae." Wooyoung's throat is dry.
"I love jjigae!" San beams and claps, his dimples appearing. Pretty as a flower. "Think you can do it some justice?"
"I'll try," Wooyoung answers, pretending he doesn't notice the way San hangs on to every last word he says. "But first, I need to go take a shower. Just got my hair cut, after all."
"How could I forget?" San's voice grows soft, admiring Wooyoung's new look. "It really suits you, you know? I thought your previous hair also suited you, but this..."
Wooyoung's chest tightens. "This what?"
"You look great." But San looks like he wants to say more, so much more.
"Uh, thanks." Wooyoung's never been good at taking compliments, and since Monday night every time San complimented him, he got embarrassed, flushing because of them.
"You're welcome."
Wooyoung thinks over his and San's conversation in the shower, over and over again until he gets tired of it.
He likes guys, get over it, A voice in his head argues, but the thing is -- he can't. Not when he starts to worry about the possibility of San actually...liking him, even if it seems totally bogus.
Just because he's gay doesn't mean he'll like every man he sees. Just because he's gay doesn't mean he'll like you. Wooyoung wants to stop thinking so much about this, because it's driving him nuts.
How would San like him, he tries to reason, when he probably has access to the hottest guys ever who are actually on par with his status?
It's weird and borderline creepy to be thinking this way about a CEO who he's living with, but Wooyoung can't help himself. His arguments are starting to make sense too. There's no way San can feel something for him, not when he's poor and a nobody, and doesn't even have the looks to match.
The thought's like a punch to the gut, one that has him gasping for air and leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. But it's the cold, hard truth. And he shouldn't care anyway, because he doesn't like San like that, just like how the man feels nothing for him.
Wooyoung leaves the shower, and a twisted, masochistic part of him places him in front of the misty bathroom mirror, holding him down until the fog fades.
His different coloured eyes look back at him through the mirror, and all he feels at that moment is disgust and annoyance.
The man staring at him doesn't feel like him, with his dark damp locks, glowing turquoise eye and skinny frame, but he is. And that's the most frustrating and disheartening part. This is him, and no one else.
And he's still as disappointing as ever.
* * *
Wooyoung enters the kitchen, hair styled as before as he switches on his phone to refresh his memory on the recipe Mingi sent him.
Lately, he and the older man have been talking. Not much, but just enough to grow more comfortable with each other, and even share a couple jokes. Wooyoung discovered Mingi could be quite hilarious when he wanted to be, often leaving him cackling at the end of their conversations.
Wooyoung's about to click off the screen when he hears distant footsteps approach.
"Hey, gorgeous. Mind if I get a second with you?"
Wooyoung ignores San, but he had to bite his lip to stop his smile from growing.
"Stars are jealous of you. Of course they are, because they don't shine as brightly as you do."
"What the fuck?" Wooyoung spins around then, breaking into laughter. It takes him a second before he notices the phone held in San's hands, the camera facing him. Oh no. "Wait -- San -- "
San shoves his phone into his pocket before Wooyoung can snatch it away, giggling like a toddler.
"No, San," Wooyoung begs. "Delete it."
"Why? You look seriously good in them," San answers. When his and Wooyoung's eyes meet, he giggles again. Wooyoung feels lightheaded at the sound.
"I know I look horrible," Wooyoung states. He stands in front of San, hands on his hips. "So for the love of god, give me the phone so I can delete those ugly pictures."
San stares at him the same way he did when Wooyoung began spilling his innermost thoughts that Monday. "You haven't even seen them. How can you call them that?"
"Because I know they are." Wooyoung doesn't like the look in San's eyes, as if he's pitying him just because he happens to dislike the way he looks. "And I want them deleted."
A few seconds pass with San staring into his eyes, and then, he sighs. "...Fine, I'll delete them. But not before I send them to you first. Then...then you'll know what I'm talking about when I say you're gorgeous. Whatever you choose to do to them afterwards is up to you."
Wooyoung's cheeks well up with warmth at the adjective San used to describe him. It'd been fine before, when it was under the context of a joke, but now, with how genuinely San said it, Wooyoung didn't know how to feel.
"Send them to me now," is what he chooses to reply with.
"After dinner," San cheekily responds as he waltzes into the kitchen, and Wooyoung follows after him, a frown on his face.
Despite all this, Wooyoung cooks up the jjigae and manages to finish it without setting the entire house on fire. He's once again reminded of how amazing Mingi's cooking abilities are when he sees -- and smells -- the result of his hard work.
"That smells heavenly," San says next to him, and Wooyoung has to slap him on the chest with his apron so he won't get too close to the stove. "Hey, can I taste?"
"No, hyung," Wooyoung commands.
San pouts. "Why?"
"Cause you always try to eat everything before it's ready."
"I do not."
Wooyoung says nothing as he begins to set the table, San soon joining him although his eyes never leave the broth.
"Thanks for doing this for me. Cooking, I mean," San utters after Wooyoung places the bowls of jjigae on the table. Wooyoung's taken aback by the sincerity in his tone. "Mingi, well, he's been the one in charge of the food for so long, I bet he got tired at some point." At this, San chuckles, but his eyes are...sad. "I hope it doesn't burden you. Please tell me if it does."
Wooyoung rubs his neck, a little overwhelmed under San's attentive gaze. "It -- it doesn't bother me. I like it, actually. I like...cooking." He clears his throat. "For me and you. Us."
San grins. "Us?"
"Yeah." Wooyoung's heartbeat goes crazy when San leans in, his hand clasping his.
"Come sit next to me for dinner."
You can take a seat anywhere you like, but not the ones closest to the head of the table. That's where San sits. Wooyoung panics as Mingi's words stumble into his brain.
"Woo?"
I like men I like men I like men I like --
"Nope," Wooyoung snips his thoughts in half with a high-pitched, obviously fake laugh. "No, it's fine. I will sit where I normally do for tonight, thanks."
"Come on," San whines, stomping on his feet like he's throwing a tantrum. "I want you to sit with me."
"The food will get cold." Wooyoung pulls out a seat for himself, trying not to feel an ounce of guilt when San makes his way over to his seat, shoulders hunched and lips pursed.
Luckily, San doesn't stay discouraged for long. Soon, he's oohing and aahing at the food Wooyoung prepared, unleashing compliments that are so unbelievably corny Wooyoung nearly spits out some soup at one point.
"Anytime I take a sip of this jjigae I feel like angels are singing to me," San says, before slurping some of it. He gestures at his ears. "Yep, I can hear them again."
"Maybe you're dying," Wooyoung jokes, staring down at his bowl. The stew reminds him of an active volcano, and he wonders how quickly he would die if he ever fell into one of them.
"If I die after this, it'll be worth it. At least I got to taste the jjigae Mighty Chef Jung Wooyoung made for us."
"You're so lame," Wooyoung snorts. "And weird too. I still get chills anytime I wake up and see that portrait of yourself you got me for my birthday."
"Those aren't chills, hon," San answers, smirking at him. "Face it: you're falling in love with me."
The harmless statement affects Wooyoung more than he'd like. His grip on his spoon tightens. "A-As if."
He spares San a quick glance, relieved to find the older man is too busy with his food to notice his reaction. He looks again, and sees San with his phone in hand.
Wooyoung bites his lip. "Hey, phones aren't -- "
"Allowed while you're eating," San finishes off, taking a sip from his drink. "I know, I know. Just..." He presses something on the screen, and immediately Wooyoung's phone vibrates.
Ignoring his own rule, Wooyoung quickly pulls out his phone to check the message.
- mr choi
[image attached]
[image attached]
- mr choi
nothing other than 'breathtakingly beautiful' will suffice
Wooyoung looks up from his phone, and there San is, grinning broadly at him. "Hyung..."
"I know, I know. These pictures I took are glorious," San says, looking as smug as ever.
"I'm gonna kill you."
"What?"
"They're horrible, what the hell?" Wooyoung gasps. He places the phone on the table, digging his face into his palms.
"Wooyoung..." San sounds immensely worried. His chair scrapes across the tiled floors, and he's making his way over. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have -- "
Wooyoung bawls into his hands, drawn out and overdramatic. "H-How could you take such amazing pictures of me? H-How dare you?"
San pauses. "...You're fake crying, aren't you?"
"Ta-da!" Wooyoung cheers, all jazz hands and wide, dazzling smiles. San just stares at him for a moment, but then his eyes fall on Wooyoung's phone.
"You saved me as 'Mr Choi'?" If Wooyoung didn't know better, he'd have assumed San was offended. But he isn't, right?
"Uh, yeah," Wooyoung nods. "Is that bad?"
San inhales, then exhales. His expression turns unreadable as he heads back to his seat. "Make me a new contact name, stat."
"Are you serious?"
"Yes, I am." San crosses his arms. "Or I'm not finishing the food."
Wooyoung scoffs, but San's change in demeanor bothered him. "That's got nothing to do with me."
"I know you hate seeing food wasted, and I know you hate seeing me sad," San says, exhaling a heavy sigh. "So, please, save me under a new name."
"It's just a contact name. It's not that deep." Wooyoung can't believe what he's hearing.
"Exactly. It's just a contact name, so there's no reason for you not to change it."
Are they having an argument? Wooyoung feels like they are. He huffs, because he has a feeling San won't relent anytime soon. "Fine. Whatever."
He erases 'Mr Choi' and types in something else.
"Let me see," San says, and Wooyoung walks to him and displays the screen. "Mountain Mountain? Really?"
San sounds so done with his choices it makes Wooyoung crack a chuckle.
"What? Your name's Choi San. Mountain, Mountain," Wooyoung explains, but his laughter dies in his throat just as San peers up at him with those intense eyes of his.
"It's an horrendous nickname," San begins coolly, "so you have to sit on my lap because it's your punishment." To drive his point home, he pats his thighs, a look Wooyoung's never seen him have before on his face. It's a cross between a cocky smirk, and something else.
Wooyoung's jaw nearly drops. "What?"
"Sit on my lap, Wooyoung-ah," San repeats. He sounds serious, but there's some humour in his voice too, like he doesn't actually expect the younger man to do it.
Wooyoung heads to his seat, but drags his food to where San is. The older raises his eyebrows in confusion.
Wooyoung swallows, unable to believe he's actually going to do this. He steps into San's space, the other man looking so shocked it's almost funny. Then, he sits on San's lap, adjusting himself a little.
"I'm not changing that contact name," he says.
San's lips part, but nothing comes out, gaze dark as he surveys Wooyoung up and down.
Wooyoung's heart races, even more so at the feel of San's chest on his back, the man's arms a heartbeat away from touching his.
"You...you should eat. Though you don't have much left," Wooyoung rambles helplessly. He feels so breathless, for no reason too. It's just San, and this is nothing but a joke.
San gulps. His face has grown pink. "Yeah. I, uh -- I will. Just gimme a sec."
Wooyoung's breath audibly hitches when San totally dissolves the distance between them, an arm secure around his waist as the other searches for his chopsticks.
"Shit," San curses, lips beside Wooyoung's ear. "Are you okay?"
Wooyoung busies himself with his food. "Mhm. Yeah, I am."
"Me too."
"Hm."
San is touchy, Wooyoung finds out. Or maybe he's only imagining San's arms around him, and the way the man watches him sometimes, and how their fingers brush ever so often. Wooyoung tries to convince himself that's the case, even when he knows it isn't.
Muscles a little sore and head a little empty, he relaxes into San.
The older man jolts in his seat, pushing his chair to the back without a second thought. "Can you -- can you get off? I mean -- " San looks frantic. "Like, stand up. Please."
"Oh -- okay." A bit embarrassed, Wooyoung obeys.
San leaps off his chair, ears flushed.
"Are you alright?" Wooyoung questions. This is so weird, the way San's acting. The man's even angled himself away from Wooyoung, his ears beet red.
"Yeah -- sorry. I gotta go. I'll be back shortly," San hurriedly explains, and then he's rushing off, hands on the belt loops of his pants.
Wooyoung makes a move to get his bowl, but stills. Realization sinks in like an anchor.
San got a boner.
Wooyoung says nothing when San returns fifteen minutes later back to his usual self.
There's a glow to him as he bounds up to Wooyoung, smiling vivaciously at him. "You excited for tomorrow?"
I was, that is until I discovered you popped an erection just because I sat on you. Wooyoung cringes at the thought. He really hates the voices in his head sometimes. "I -- yeah."
"Me too. I can't wait for all the activities we'll do together," San continues, bouncing with glee.
Wooyoung's mind wanders to horrible places. His fists clench. "Look, hyung, I -- I'm a bit sleepy right now."
"But it's just past eight."
"I want to go to sleep, sorry," Wooyoung says, grabbing his phone from the dining table. The thing that started this all in the first place. "See you tomorrow."
"...Oh." San's hair obstructs the look on his face, but his lips aren't upturned anymore. "Okay. See you tomorrow, then. Good morning in advance."
Wooyoung pauses, the guilt suffocating him. He moves in, and brings San into a hug. The man tenses in his hold at first, but soon his muscles loosen.
His arms slither around Wooyoung's waist, staying there even when Wooyoung pulls away to look him in the eye.
"Good morning in advance, hyung," Wooyoung repeats. He doesn't know why exactly he initiated the hug, and guessing by the stunned look on San's face, the man hadn't expected it too. "See you."
San touches his cheek, and Wooyoung's heart explodes. "Okay."
"Okay."
Wooyoung leaves then, and it's when he gets to his room that he falls into his bed and freaks out to his best capacity. What the hell just happened back there?
He screams into his pillow, then spends an insane amount of time thinking about their last encounter, of San holding his cheek. What does it mean?
Tired of how sleepless he's become, he pulls out his notes and does some revision. In an hour, his eyelids are heavy, and he dozes off.
- mountain mountain
wake up to a pic of me a couple months ago with some new releases
- mountain mountain
and p.s i didn't delete those pictures of you off my phone hahaha :p
- mountain mountain
sleep well babe 💜
* * *
Wooyoung can only stare as the moonlight pours itself over Choi San, his skin glowing like he's stardust.
He whimpers, shallow breaths clinging to Wooyoung's lips as the younger leans in, their bare chests grazing.
"I want you so bad," San exhales, cupping Wooyoung's cheek. His eyes are like pools of black ink, glazed over with lust as Wooyoung's hands inch lower.
He wants to feel him, Wooyoung realizes right then. San's thunderous heartbeat's already throbbing against his burning skin, but he wants more. Wants to know how San would feel under him, begging and pleading for his touch.
Wooyoung licks a stripe down San's abdomen, drunk on the airy, lewd moans that leave the older's lips as a result. The man shivers beneath him, and then Wooyoung's lowering his head, right in between San's legs --
Wooyoung inhales a sharp gust of air as he sits upright on his bed. His head is spinning, heart thrashing as if he's been ripped in half, his pulse and guts the only thing remaining.
What the fuck? Several thoughts like these zoom past his mind, each one igniting more horror in him than the last. What did I just dream of?
Wooyoung feels like running, but he doesn't know where. The room he's in is turning on its axis, and there's nothing he can hold on to. He's spiralling, drowning in self-loathing and despair when he just wants to get away.
He throws off his duvet and pushes himself off his bed. His knees wobble, but he doesn't allow that to disrupt him. He needs to leave. He needs to --
Wooyoung collapses against the wall as soon as he scurries out of his room, palms uselessly fisting its surface as an attempt to find some balance.
Each breath he takes feels like lethal poison, especially when every time he closes he eyes, he sees San on the bed, hair splayed out, falling over his fair, freckled skin; his eyes reflecting the moon's shine; his lips, parted and pink and pretty, releasing those sinful moans that thicken the knots in Wooyoung's stomach. He feels like he's about to combust.
He runs out of the house, slipping into the backyard. It's vast, the grass and bushes neat and tidy. It's terribly cold too, frosting his lungs.
Up ahead lies the moon's crescent, and seeing it just worsens Wooyoung's shame. He feels like crying.
His arms are cold, marred with goosebumps, and he curses at his stupidity of not bringing something along to cover himself with. He bites his lip, rubbing them to at least fend off some of the cold. He isn't planning to go back inside anytime soon, that's for sure.
"Wooyoung?"
Wooyoung snaps his head up so quickly the base of his neck strains, but he's too distracted to nurture it.
San stands off to the side, donned in a loose shirt that exposes a bit of his collarbones, sweatpants, as well as a long baby pink cotton sweater.
His face displays concern as he strolls to where Wooyoung's standing. "You okay, Woo?"
Don't come closer. Wooyoung gulps. "Y-Yeah."
"You sure? I mean, this is the first time I've seen you around here at this hour. And I've been here a lot," San says while looking at the stars in the sky. His eyes sparkle as much as they do.
Wooyoung hastily looks away when San turns to face him. "I'm f-fine."
"You're cold." San licks his lips. They glisten.
"I'm not." Wooyoung doesn't care how rude he sounds, not when the outline of San's lips have been engraved into the back of his eyelids.
The worry in San's eyes increase. "You're literally shivering. Here -- " he pulls off his sweater, Wooyoung's eyes bulging when his shirt hikes up, revealing a generous amount of his defined torso.
"I don't get cold easily, and I have no idea when you're heading back inside," San continues with a laugh, ruffling up his hair. "So you can have it in the meantime -- Wooyoung?"
"I don't need your sweater," Wooyoung spits. "I'm okay, I'm not cold, and I just need some fresh fucking air."
San's eyes darken. "Wooyoung, did something happen? Why are you suddenly being like this? Is there a problem?"
Yes. You being here with me right now is the problem. You looking as good as you always fucking do, and how kind and funny you are, and how much you make me feel comfortable. You, you, you! Everything about you is the fucking problem!
"Nothing is," Wooyoung lies, fingernails digging into his palms. "I just...need some space right now."
"Something personal?"
"Yeah..."
San keeps quiet, and gives him the space Wooyoung desires. But yet still, longing blazes through his veins at the distance now set between them. Seeing the older so close, yet so far, has his mind in shambles.
Unable to calm down, he glances at San. San's looking at him too, and he looks at him the way he did at dinner, like he has a million things he wants to say but can't.
"Your eye," is what he settles on. "It looks..." He smiles, "it looks like the sea I used to visit a lot when I was younger. Very pretty, it was."
Wooyoung's too exhausted to care about hiding it now. "Really?"
"Yes," San grins, eyes trained on nowhere else but his face, "really."
Something like heartache, not quite as merciless but every bit as gut-wrenching, engulfs the entirety of Wooyoung at that very moment. "I don't know what to say."
"You don't need to. Sometimes..." San watches the night sky, but his lip quivers. All of a sudden, he doesn't look as confident anymore. "Sometimes, the best answer you can give is to say nothing at all."
* * *
a/n: thoughts?
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