cw: mature content after the third '* * *'

* * *

« all i want is you »

San's lips are like silk, as faint as a summer's breeze as his eyelids flutter shut, whilst Wooyoung's eyes are open, as wide as saucers. The older's hands roll down his neck to his chest, squeezing onto his shirt for dear life.

Wooyoung's heart stops, and so does everything else as the moment stretches and lengthens -- far longer than it should've. He feels like he's drowned and frozen underwater, with no way of ever reaching the surface. But he has to; he has to get out.

Like breaking through tough ice, Wooyoung finally gains the strength to awaken. His heart kick-starts, palms pressing against San's shoulders. And then he's shoving the older away from him, the heat of his touch forever smeared into his skin.

He gasps for breath as he forces himself to his feet, while San lays crumpled on the floor, limbs stiff and face veiled with a look that Wooyoung has never ever seen on him before.

"W-What was that?" Wooyoung can barely hear himself over his ricocheting heartbeat, distress tumbling out of his voice. Any moment from now and his heart'll shoot out of his chest, he's pretty sure. His fingers clench. "San -- "

"I-It was a mistake," San blurts. He's also now on his feet, hands curling and uncurling. They're shaking so much. "I -- I never meant to do that and I just -- " he turns away, roughly biting his lip. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Wooyoung's first instinct is to close up the distance between them, to comfort San somehow. But he's stuck to one place, mind replaying the way the older leaned in and kissed him. He can still feel his lips on his mouth; how close his heart felt at that moment to splitting into pieces.

"...Say something," San says, slicing apart the thick silence that envelopes them. His knuckles are completely white, wound into this tight grip as his thumbs repeatedly pick and dig at his skin. "Say something, Wooyoung. Please. Don't -- don't leave me hanging."

But Wooyoung doesn't know what to say. Or rather, he knows nothing of how he should say it. So, he stands still as the seconds keep ticking, thoughts storming into his brain at every direction imaginable. He doesn't know what to do.

San looks at him then, and Wooyoung's sure he can see the alarm and fear in his eyes, because his shoulders drop and something dark and unsettling flits over his eyes.

"I'm sorry for kissing you," he says, and Wooyoung gulps. He takes a step back when San attempts to move closer to him, and the man loses every last bit of the spark in his eyes.

Even with this, San continues to speak, his defeated tone haunting the confines of Wooyoung's mind. "I'm sorry for taking whatever chance I thought I saw. I'm sorry for being so stupid. I'm sorry for -- for having feelings for you."

Something attacks Wooyoung's heart right then, gripping it and slamming it and tossing it every-which way until there's nothing left of it anymore. It's so painful; excruciating, even. It hurts, so bad. And he wants it gone.

"I'm sorry that I like you," San continues, but Wooyoung doesn't want him to. He wants him to fucking stop. "Wooyoung, I -- "

"Let's forget this ever happened," Wooyoung cuts in, lifting his gaze to meet San's. He hopes he doesn't look like he's crumbling on the inside. "It was a mistake; let's leave it at that. You're -- you're my boss. There should be nothing else there. There can't be. I'm sorry."

San's eyes water, tears dribbling over and slowly down his cheeks. The sight has Wooyoung's heart in shambles.

He reaches out before he knows it, presumably to wipe the remainder of San's tears, but the older man doesn't allow it. He shifts his head to the left and hastily rubs them off instead, his jaw set and lips pursed.

"Sorry," San sniffs, voice just a whisper. He keeps looking at the floor. "Don't even know why I'm crying. God, I'm such a mess."

"It's alright," Wooyoung replies. But it isn't, and they both know it. He's just rejected Choi San, and it's every bit as shocking as it is nervewracking. The more time he spends here in San's bedroom -- the man who he's just turned down as a result of liking him -- the more he feels like he's overstepping his boundaries. He feels like he isn't wanted here anymore.

"I need to leave."

San quickly looks at him. "Wooyoung."

Wooyoung avoids his stare. "I need makeup wipes. I need to wash my face too, before Mingi arrives."

"Wooyoung," San repeats, lips quivering. This time there's something different about his tone, like he doesn't want the younger male to step out of that room. "Do you hate me? Do you?"

"I don't."

"You keep looking away from me," San accuses, voice all wobbly. He sounds close to crying. "I just ruined everything, didn't I? I just ruined our friendship."

"You didn't ruin anything," Wooyoung retorts, but it feels like a lie, because his heart feels like it's the one being ruined. His chest aches. "I just need to go right now. And I need those wipes."

San doesn't respond. He moves away and enters further into his room, his slow, light footsteps echoing in Wooyoung's head. He soon returns, pressing something cold and solid into his palms instead of what he'd asked for.

"Micellar water," San states, voice a little hoarse. "They're better than wipes. Sorry for the inconvenience."

Wooyoung nibbles his lip, despising the tightness in his chest. "Thank you."

San shakes his head, lips pulled into a wry smile. "No problem."

The doorbell rings through the house at that moment, alerting them both.

Shit. "That must be Mingi." Wooyoung drops his hands, realizing they'd been touching San's, and clears his throat. "I'm uh, I'm gonna go get my face cleaned. I'll meet you guys in a sec."

He thinks he sounds casual and lighthearted enough, but San's broken, puppy-like expression never wavers.

Wooyoung internally curses at himself, and heads off, pretending San's consistent gaze doesn't send heat crawling up his body.

Wooyoung spends more than enough time in the bathroom beating himself up for the disaster that took place earlier. He can't help but think he's an asshole for the way he blew San off, and the words he said.

But, San was the one who kissed him. San kissed him, regardless of what he would have thought about it. He certainly didn't seem to care what would've came from his decision at that point in time, so Wooyoung shouldn't have to feel guilty of what he had no control over.

Wooyoung splashes some water on his face, and stares at the mirror as the cold drops cascade off his jaw. His eyes stare back at him, hurt and instability reflected through sea green and dark brown, and hell, Wooyoung feels vulnerable. He is vulnerable.

And he doesn't get it. Doesn't get why San kissed him in the first place. What does the man see in him? Why would he have feelings for someone like him?

Wooyoung thinks of San's lips on his again, and the butterflies in his stomach turn into bloodthirsty wasps that terrorize his heart and twist and cling unto his lungs, suffocating him to bits. He clamps a hand over his shirt, heart pounding beneath his fingertips.

He feels the ground open up below him, and then he's sinking, knees knocking against the bathroom tiles and his back hitting the wall. He fights and struggles to get sufficient oxygen to his lungs, and for a while, he lays there, head shoved into his trembling palms.

He begins to tear up.

* * *

"Only one pancake?" Mingi says when he sees Wooyoung's nearly empty plate. They're in the kitchen, already done with the food and preparing to set the table. "You sure you don't want more?"

"Pancakes aren't really my thing," Wooyoung confesses, but he isn't really telling the truth. "I'm not hungry."

Mingi nods. He stares at Wooyoung for a second more, and then adds, "Did you do something to your face? You look a little pale."

It slightly irks Wooyoung how many questions Mingi keeps asking, but he doesn't let it show. "San did my makeup 'cause he wanted to," he answers, breath hitching when said male appears. He looks at Mingi before San can catch him staring. "Had to wash it off."

"Oh."

They say nothing else after that, but Wooyoung doesn't miss the way Mingi's brows rise when he sees him taking the seat furthest away from San.

But Wooyoung can't help it; he's nervous and confused. He can't fucking stop thinking about him and San kissing, and it's even worse now that San's now only a few feet away from him.

The tension in the air is palpable, lasting well until breakfast is over. Even Mingi notices, because as soon as San dashes into the hall and out of sight, he pulls Wooyoung aside, a frown on his face.

"Okay," Mingi starts, "what's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"Something went on between you and San," Mingi explains. There's a firmness to his voice that turns Wooyoung anxious, because in all the time he's known the older, he's never seen him so stern. "What is it?"

Wooyoung swallows thickly, averting his gaze. "I...I don't know what you're talking about."

Mingi's frown deepens. "Did you do something to San? He wasn't himself back there, and I saw the way he kept looking at you. What happened?"

Wooyoung's heart clenches. He feels like he's being cornered, and he hates it. "I didn't do anything to him."

"Then why are you both acting so strange?" Mingi questions, his exasperation startling the younger. His eyes narrow, puncturing holes into Wooyoung's face. "What the hell happened, Wooyoung? Because if you did something to hurt San, I won't fucking take it lightly."

Wooyoung takes a step back, heart racing. He can't believe what he's hearing, and Mingi's steely stare terrifies him. "I didn't do anything. I really didn't."

For a moment, Mingi looks like he doesn't think he's telling the truth, but then his shoulders sag and his eyes soften. He leans against the counter, pushing his hand through his styled orange hair.

"Sorry. I got kind of carried away," Mingi says, eyes apologetic. He stares in the direction San left, and sighs. "I just can't stand to see him sad or upset. Obviously, I can't tell you the full story, but San... He's been through a lot."

Wooyoung nods, stomach turning with nausea when he remembers San crying just earlier after what he said to him. God, I'm a jerk.

"To be honest," Mingi continues, looking over at him, "I seriously didn't want Hongjoong hyung bringing another person over to 'look after' San. I wasn't keen on meeting you, and I...guess I thought you were gonna be like the others and do something that'd make San quickly hate you. The previous guy got fired just after two weeks, you see."

Wooyoung looks down, fiddling with his fingers. "Oh..."

"You lasted longer, and San seemed to really like you, so what I saw this morning really took me aback. I think that's why I got so defensive," Mingi says. "I didn't mean to."

"It's okay," Wooyoung inhales, more than relieved the older isn't asking about what happened again. "I mean, if I had a close friend too, I wouldn't want anything bad happening to them."

Mingi smiles. "You know, you're a good kid."

"Kid?" Wooyoung asks incredulously. "I'm twenty two."

Sometimes, he even finds it difficult to believe he's that age already, especially when he all does is get lost in the past, wondering how he grew so quickly when his brain is still stuck in his teenage years.

"And I'm only three years older," Mingi answers, his smile turning more teasing. "Yet you seem much younger."

Wooyoung chuckles briefly. "Should I call you hyung, then?"

"Nah. Makes me feel real old."

"Duly noted." Wooyoung seriously can't imagine himself as twenty five, even if it's just three years away. In fact, that makes the age even scarier. But that was what he thought about his age right now two years ago, and here he is.

He wishes time would halt.

* * *

During the days leading up to Christmas, it's like Wooyoung's the sole occupant of the house, because San totally vanishes off the face of the earth.

Of course, Wooyoung expected some type of avoidance on his side, but a small, selfish part of him wished San never kissed him in the first place. Why did he have to do it and make things awkward? And, why wouldn't he ever leave Wooyoung's mind?

On the day before Christmas Eve, Hongjoong calls him to say San's out visiting his family, so Wooyoung can spend Christmas doing what he enjoys, and Wooyoung's too ashamed to admit how discouraged and disappointed the news makes him.

Just like the past years, he's alone this time around too.

The next day, he buys a snow globe in a shop that catches his eye in the city, and gets another at the last minute. They're rather large, compared to the regular sized ones, but their quality design and how absolutely pretty they are make up for it.

When he returns home, he places them on the couch and admires them. One is lilac; holding a simple gingerbread house and a happy snowman, and looking at them makes Wooyoung break into a smile. The other globe hosts a house too, and it's gold, cornered with fake snow and a grinning family of three huddled at the front.

Wooyoung observes the both of them, soon deciding the one that'll be perfect for San when he comes back.

- wooyoung
hey, hyung?

- wooyoung
hope you're having a great time with your family
thank you for everything thus far

- wooyoung
merry christmas in advance
(. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

Wooyoung sends the texts before he can think better of it and delete them all, and tries not to take it to heart when San reads them but never responds.

Two days later, he gets invited by one of the college guys he did a project with a few times to this thing at a club, and yeah, Wooyoung obliges because he honestly has no idea how else he can spend the time.

Wooyoung's dumb, so that's why he inhales a bunch of drinks the minute he arrives as if they're oxygen, and sometimes he chats with the others too, but he stays by the bar a majority of the time and gets so freaking wasted he can't see straight.

It helps, though, because at least when he's drunk he can't think about the curve of San's lips or how fast his heart raced when he touched him. The liquor numbs him to the guilt that festers in his gut and fuck, for once, he feels like he isn't failing everyone just by being alive.

But like everything else, the sky dims and the temporary high ends, and soon enough, Wooyoung starts to feel like shit again. He knows he doesn't belong to the friend group who decided to tag him along tonight, so when he takes it upon himself to finally leave, he isn't shocked when they don't look the least bit affected.

He manages to hail a cab in his state, and by the time he gets dropped off a street away from San's manor, he feels a little more sober.

When Wooyoung enters the vicinity, he spends about thirty seconds fumbling with the passcode, too distracted to notice some of the indoor lights are on.

Once he staggers in, he freezes as soon as he spots Choi San himself standing right in front of him. His pulse picks up.

"...Wooyoung," San says, fisting the hem of his white shirt. The livingroom lights are off, his face only illuminated by the one in the kitchen. And, guessing by what Wooyoung can see, he doesn't look too happy. "Where did you go?"

Wooyoung makes a move to the right, but has to stop himself before he loses his footing and falls on his ass. "Nowhere," he deadpans, squeezing his eyes shut at the mild pain that pinches back of his head.

"Nowhere," San repeats, jaws clenched. His arms are crossed, trying to appear like some domineering parent, and frankly it kind of pisses Wooyoung off. "It's past two in the morning."

Fuck, I was out for that long? Wooyoung thinks, but thankfully doesn't voice it out. Instead, he attempts sidestepping San, but the older quickly grabs his arm, preventing him from leaving.

"Let me go," Wooyoung spits. But, considering how slurred his words come out, he's pretty sure he doesn't sound the least bit threatening.

San's face falls. "Did you drink?"

"Let go!" Wooyoung growls, slapping San's hand off. San holds him again, and it infuriates him, because his grip is so fucking tight that it reminds him of his father. "Let go, San."

San obeys, and Wooyoung takes the chance to rush inside his room. San chases after him.

"You're fucking drunk, Wooyoung," San hisses. "How much did you take?"

Wooyoung completely ignores him, pulling off his coat.

"Answer me, Wooyoung."

"I don't owe you anything," Wooyoung snaps, unable to help how whiny he sounds. "You're not my mom."

"How'd you get home? Why didn't you call one of the drivers? Why did you have to stay out so late?" San keeps hurtling question after question at Wooyoung, and he continues to ignore every single one. It angers San as much as it angers him, Wooyoung can tell, so when San has enough and gets so close that their foreheads nearly touch, eyes narrowed and sharp, he isn't all too surprised.

"How much did you drink, Wooyoung?" San asks, voice low and measured.

"Why would I answer you?" Wooyoung says. "When you never answered my text messages?"

"This is different, Wooyoung."

"No it's not!" Wooyoung unbuckles his belt and slips out of his jeans, feeling San's eyes on him the entire time.

"...What are you doing?"

"Undressing. Ever heard of it?" Wooyoung sounds so petty right now, but he doesn't care. Not when San deserves it.

He kicks off the fabric and falls into his bed, aware of how his boxer briefs expose more than half of his legs. San practically eyeballing them doesn't affect him as much as he thought it would; or maybe it's the alcohol.

"Wooyoung," San pleads, "stop ignoring me."

Wooyoung unbuttons his shirt until it bunches down his shoulders, pretending he doesn't notice San's unfaltering stares tracing over his skin.

"Stop it."

Wooyoung grips the material of his black singlet as if he plans on pulling it over his head. "Stop what?"

San shuts the space between them, hands on his fists. His touch sends heat spiralling into Wooyoung's chest. "Stop... stop whatever it is you're doing."

"I'm only taking off my clothes," Wooyoung breathes. Butterflies swarm his stomach when he catches San watching his lips. "If you have that much of a problem with it, then leave."

San doesn't, and for a moment, there's silence, filled with nothing but their haggard breaths.

"I'm sorry for not replying your texts," San says, but Wooyoung isn't in the mood to hear his apologies.

Instead, he rests against his bed, and lowers a hand into his boxers.

San immediately reacts, eyes widening. "Wooyoung -- "

A chill runs down Wooyoung's spine at how cold his hand feels wrapped around him, and he sucks in a breath, trying to get more used to the sensation.

San's eyes are dark; so dark Wooyoung can see himself in them. The man reaches for his hands, lips opening in alarm. "W-Wooyoung, please stop."

Wooyoung's breath stutters, lip pulled between his teeth as his thumb swirls over the tip of his dick, staring right at San through hooded eyes.

San's eyes never drop from his face, and it's intoxicating, more potent and addictive than all the drinks Wooyoung downed tonight.

"Wooyoung, don't...don't do this," San licks his lips, pupils enlarged. "You're -- you're drunk and you're gonna regret it -- "

Wooyoung grabs San's hand and lands it on his crotch. "Touch me."

San gulps, looking away. "Wooyoung..."

"Just do it," Wooyoung begs. San's constant refusal is driving him nuts, because right now, he wants nothing more than for the other to touch him. "Need...need to know that what I'm feeling isn't just in my head."

San bites his lip, conflicted. But the desire on his face is as clear as day. His hands cup Wooyoung's hips, shy and cautious at first, but then he gently pulls off his boxer briefs.

Wooyoung's chest pulsates with warmth at San's hand now on his cock, and his hips instinctively buckle, grinding into the older's palm.

San's strokes are soft, even, and with each one, Wooyoung's breathing grows more laboured. San's eyes drink him in, brimming with lust as he hastens his strokes, and he feels himself harden.

Wooyoung grips the back of San's hair when the older man slowly sinks his head on his cock, his warm, wet mouth easily taking it in. Wooyoung releases a drawn out moan at the contact, pleasure building up inside him. It feels so good; San's lips on him, planting feather-light, heated kiss down his length.

"H-Hyung..." He stammers, and as if it's intentional, San swallows more of him as if he's made for it. San's tongue laps up at the skin, sucking him so tenderly, his dark eyes peering up at him the entire time, and hell, Wooyoung's never felt this amazing in a while.

He starts thrusting, slowly at first, wanting more friction, and San goes with the flow, bobbing his head up and down without gagging at all.

"I -- I'm going to cum," Wooyoung warns, vision fizzing at the edges as San continues sucking him, kissing him, deep-throating him. He pants as his dick empties out, and San remains steady, swallowing all of him.

San's eyes are glazed, pupils enlarged, and the pink that flushes his cheeks makes him look far too innocent considering what he'd just done.

San doesn't stop there, though. He continues kissing Wooyoung's cock, moving up his thighs like he's committing every bit of him to memory until he reaches his navel. It makes the younger squirm, heart thumping against his ribcage like a wild animal.

Wooyoung spots the bulge visible on the older's trousers, and he meets San's gaze.

"That doesn't look too comfortable," he begins, but San shakes his head.

"Woo, you don't need to do anything," he argues, lips redder than usual and black hair messy from the time Wooyoung had tugged at it. The sight alone makes his length throb. I made him that way.

"Let me help you out with that." Wooyoung doesn't have to play stubborn much longer, he realizes, because San gives in to him a moment later, his lean, muscled body like putty under him. Wooyoung doesn't waste time ridding him of his clothing.

He freezes at the sight of the jagged scar that stretches down San's right shoulder, stopping right at his armpit, but San's eyes are squeezed shut, lost in his touches, so Wooyoung ultimately decides to not say a word on it. For now.

San groans, high in pitch and heavenly as Wooyoung runs his fingers down his dripping shaft, a bit awed by how thick and warm it is. This is all so new to him, and he's sure it's obvious he's never done this before, but that doesn't seem to matter when San moans with every pump, looking like a dream.

"I've never given anyone a blowjob before," Wooyoung confesses, blood rushing to his cheeks at the outright dirty sounds that leave San's mouth. They mess with his mind, getting him inexplicably hard.

"It's okay," San exhales, watching him with starry eyes. "Just -- just keep doing what you're doing. It's enough for me."

Unwanted voices simmer at the corners of Wooyoung's mind, screaming and yelling at him to stop. But he pays them no mind, and decides he'll deal with them later.

San lets out a particularly loud gasp when Wooyoung straddles him. Chest rapidly rising and falling, he grips Wooyoung's waist while the younger performs languid, purposeful thrusts, rubbing their cocks together.

San pulls Wooyoung's singlet over his head, and then their chests collide, San's mouth on his nipple as he lazily nibbles on the nub.

Wooyoung doesn't have the chance to feel self-conscious of his body, because in the next second he's arching into the older's arms, breathy moans escaping him with every sensual kiss San sucks onto his exposed skin. He kisses everywhere but his lips, but Wooyoung doesn't mind. In fact, he prefers it that way.

San never lets him go once, kissing and sucking and biting everywhere imaginable, and even when he cums, shoulders relaxing and his hair matted with sweat, he still clings to Wooyoung, painting the slope of his neck with tender love bites.

"We...we should get cleaned up and take a shower," Wooyoung can barely formulate his words. His world's been rocked upside down in ways he never would've envisioned, and all he wants to do is to fall into Sleep's embrace.

"Soon..." San looks at him, something earnest in his eyes. It's so heavy, so intense that Wooyoung has to look away. "Let's just...stay like this for a while."

"My bed's all soiled now," Wooyoung says, but he's quietly laughing, in disbelief of everything that'd just taken place between him and San.

"It'll get cleaned later." San smiles broadly at him, and he freaking blushes.

"I can feel your dick on my thigh." Wooyoung looks down as if to confirm, chuckling when San nudges him. "...This is so weird."

San's smile lessens. "Weird?"

"Like -- it's weird in a good way. I think," Wooyoung clarifies. His eyes fall on the older's scar, and he gulps. "I feel good." And he does, his heartbeat still erratic from what went down.

That answer seems to satisfy San, because he pulls him closer, arms wrapped around him. Wooyoung's chest constricts as San kisses his hair, then his neck, and finally his cheek.

I care a lot for you, is what his actions convey. It makes Wooyoung's heart warm.

Tonight's certainly a night he won't ever forget.

* * *

a/n: that was...a lot
thoughts?