if he knew what i thought about you
it would break his heart
and i wish that i could but i cant
make the fantasies stop

wooyoung san

07.09.17

it's incredible. an implausible scenario that somehow, is true. that san gets to be the one to take wooyoung to the dance, that he's going to be able to walk in there with him in front of everyone. to hold his hand, however subtly.

he's waiting for him at the school with seonghwa, who's meeting yeosang. san opted for something a little simple, a black dress shirt with the top buttons undone. not wanting to put zero effort into the outfit, he's at least wearing matching dress pants instead of jeans, and a little bit of makeup. his hair is also gelled into a more perfected style than usual, a few of the strands still falling into his face.

he knows he looks good, but barely notices the sultry eyes from passing girls. san only has eyes for one person.

there's fairy lights decorating the hall that's been cleared out for the dance, creating a slightly cliché atmosphere accompanied with the stars projected all over the walls and roof. multi-coloured balloons are strung along the roof, lit up by little bulbs inside them.

then, it all becomes much less cheesy, and much more serious, when wooyoung walks in with yeosang.

when he sees him, it's as if space and time become the finest point imaginable, as if time collapses into one tiny speck and explodes at light speed. it's as if san's universe begins and ends with wooyoung. how he looks with the lights illuminating his face, bouncing off his golden skin, his eyelashes casting shadows onto his cheekbones.

his heart in his throat, san doesn't know how he's going to keep himself from cutting it out of his own chest and serving it to wooyoung on a silver platter, for everyone to see.

san's attraction to him is the sanest kind of madness, when wooyoung is walking around looking like that.

he can see his chest through the sheer mesh top adorning wooyoung's torso, drying his throat immediately. it's tight, clinging to wooyoung's chest, so he can see his muscles move beneath it, and it's short, showing off some of the bare skin of his waist.

and when he turns to say something to yeosang, san's jaw practically hits the floor. he can see most of the boy's back, the bones of his shoulder blades, as the mint jacket is
open-backed. save for ribbons gracefully hanging from the article, belted together with metal rings. fucking hell, wooyoung is sex on legs.

his blonde hair looks gorgeous with the pastel green suit, especially contrasting with his tanned skin. but it's his eyes, that really catch his attention, adorned with smoky eyeliner that really accentuates the milky blue of them. wooyoung rarely wears makeup, and san's never complained, but he might start now.

that virtuous artistry is epitomized, everyone else blending into the background, blurring into one blob san doesn't care about.

blinking a few times to regain his composure, san gets over himself, a stupid grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. he doesn't even wait for seonghwa, striding over to where wooyoung stands. all he can think about is taking that gorgeous outfit off of him, about how he'd take his time with it, with those ribbons.

"hey," he says softly, noticing the rosy tint on wooyoung's plump lips now that he's closer. there's no makeup concealing the mole on his left cheek, and san especially loves that.

"hi," wooyoung replies, eyes lighting up with a playful glint as he registers san's arrival. "you came."

"that's our cue." yeosang says, his voice surprising san. he'd forgotten anyone else was there.

as they go, san steps closer to wooyoung, leaning in. wooyoung's eyes follow him, so subtly, it's barely noticeable. it makes san's breath stop in his throat, heat swirling in his gut. "of course i came." he murmurs.

san's fingers follows down his arm, brushing the sleeve faintly. his hand settles on wooyoung's over his cane, and he takes it from him, placing his other palm flat on the small of his back on his bare skin. he feels wooyoung's body tense, his back straightening.

"you look fucking incredible." san says lowly, guiding him into the hall.

that causes wooyoung to inhale sharply, barely audible. "i know," he replies smoothly, and san loves that easy narcissism. that confidence.

smirking, he leans in a bit further, right into wooyoung's ear. "could take you right here." san's breathless, bold.

"yeah?" wooyoung asks, under his breath, heat flushing up his neck. god, he deserves to be worshipped.

"yeah." san says back to him, mouth still too close to his ear. "bet you'd like that, huh? with everyone watching you."

"fuck right off." wooyoung smirks, lips parting slightly, tongue darting out for a split second. 

he lets his breath fan onto his neck for another second before pulling away, pressing his hand a little bit harder on wooyoung's back.

"you really do look amazing, jung." he says, addressing him how he used to. "seriously."

"got it, choi."

san smiles, leading him to where people are dancing to some slow radio remix of a song he's not thinking clearly enough to recognize.

on their way, he sets wooyoung's cane aside, atop a table. it's probably intended for food and drinks, but he doubts anyone's going to complain about it in fear of being shunned as ableist. there are benefits, of this era of hyper-conscious proactivity.

stepping back from wooyoung to bow and take his hand, san puts on a show, playing the part of the perfect prince he isn't. "may i have this dance?"

that makes wooyoung smile, pulling san towards him by the hand he's taken. "it would be my honour." he says sarcastically, making an attempt at a small curtsy.

wooyoung isn't dancing with the intention of showing off, to make girls  or guys watch him - but they do. anyone that can move like their limbs are half liquid in perfect rhythm and still look strong are interesting, to say the least.

san smirks slightly, pulling his body closer to his. his smile only grows, seeing the way wooyoung's cheek redden. he doesn't maintain the contact, though, stepping in time with the music.

"i can't actually dance." he mentions, realizing dancing is more than just... stepping on beat and holding his partner's hand.

"no shit!" wooyoung retaliates, winding his other arm around san's back.

"you'd make a terrible dance coach." san mutters, fumbling a little with the steps. "i'm a quick learner, really."

the blonde sighs, glaring up at him a little with intent. "put your other hand on my waist." he instructs, and san does.

his fingers extend to his back, holding him in place similarly to when he's fucking him. dance. think about dancing. san shifts his hand, the material of wooyoung's suit jacket gloriously soft under his touch.

"like that?" he asks, pressing a little harder when it feels like the silky material is slipping through his fingers.

"yeah," wooyoung responds, breath hitching. "now we just... sway."

he lets go of san's hand, clasping his own at the back of his neck instead. "other hand."

obliging, san places his other hand on wooyoung, following the rhythm he initiates with the aforementioned swaying. even with such a simple dance, wooyoung is alert, a fantastic lead.

their bodies are not quite touching, and san can feel his hot breath on his cheek. then, wooyoung turns elegantly, slipping out of san's hold, his body in tune with the slow music. yet, there is a sort of harshness to him, like he's someone who shouldn't be underestimated.

that's when san starts think that sex and dance are closely interlinked, and wooyoung is not dissimilar on the dance floor to how he is in bed. it takes his breath away, as wooyoung returns to his arms, effortlessly reclaiming his previous position.

"show off." san criticizes disingenuously, letting one of his hands wonder further up his back.

wooyoung returns a knowing look, lips parting slightly as san's hand flattens on the warm bare skin of his back, touch cool.

then, the tempo picks up as the song changes. it's more upbeat, and therefore incompatible with their current position. wooyoung grins up at him, shimmying out of his hold once again, slipping away.

his hands are on his own body, now, and san watches as he freestyles amongst all the other students jumping around to the song. he's in awe, just standing there watching, absorbing the freedom wooyoung exudes.

if it were up to san, he'd stay standing here, not engaging. but he gives in easily, when wooyoung takes both his hands, pulling him further into the centre of the crowd.

he's grinning wildly, alive amidst the teen entropy. the sight is contagious, making san smile, too, as he begins to dance with wooyoung. even among all these people, san feels like it's just the two of them. wooyoung is all he sees.

it's not long before he's out of breath,  but he hardly notices, caught up in the buzz. if this was a club, and not a school dance, san would pull wooyoung against him, have him grind on him, become truly lost in the music. he's enticed by the vivacity of it all, boldly dancing closer to the blonde, hands falling to his hips.

"you're incredible," is all he can think of to say, having to raise his voice in the calamity. still, it's hushed, only for wooyoung to hear.

wooyoung winds his arms around san's broad shoulders in response, full of energy. when the song ends, his head falls to san's chest, lips catching on the black dress shirt. it's only for a second, and then he's up again, laughing.

"i need a drink," he exclaims, tugging san's sleeve to take him to the table of beverages.

san does, filling up cups for both of them. he's still buzzing from their proximity.

but then, wooyoung's phone rings, the personalized ringtone indicting that he's calling. hongjoong. and it's disheartening, heartbreaking, to watch the way wooyoung's smile fades, the way he tenses a little when answering the phone with an apologetic glance at san.

it takes everything in him not to rip that phone from wooyoung's hand and throw it down to the ground. images of himself crushing it under his feet help lift san's mood a little.

respectfully, san doesn't eavesdrop, sipping his water with sudden great fascination in the liquid. and he goes, when wooyoung mouths "cane" at him, retrieving the white stick and returning it to the blonde, who still isn't looking overjoyed.

san only looks up away from his drink when wooyoung brings the phone down from his ear with a sigh, the line clicking. expectantly, san waits.

"i'm just going to... head outside for a second." wooyoung says, tipping his head in apology.

before san can say anything, the blonde is tapping his way out of the hall too hurriedly. all san can do is watch him go, slipping out of his grasp once again.

-

yar so not exactly angst but some light yearning with a pinch of foreshadowing as a treat

xxx