san wooyoung

07.09.17

anxious nausea swirls in wooyoung's gut as he makes his way out of the hall. he's sweating, from the energy exuded dancing, but now his nerves make him jittery.

hongjoong calling him surprised him, but he also allows himself a little naive hope. maybe his boyfriend has changed his mind, and wants to come to the dance with him. secretly, he wishes hongjoong would make it easier to be happy with him.

he's asked wooyoung to meet him outside the school, and that's where he's heading now. giddiness makes it slightly more difficult to navigate, but he does his best to hurry. he doesn't want to make hongjoong wait, no matter how much he'd rather stay dancing. with san.

there's stairs, outside the doors to the school. wooyoung doesn't feel like dealing with those right now, so he stops, waiting.

"wooyoung." hongjoong's voice startles him a bit, footsteps sounding to close in on him.

"hey!" he spins to face his voice, brandishing a hopeful smile. "what're you doing here?"

there's a beat of silence that spikes wooyoung's heartbeat before he replies. "do i need a reason?" his tone is defensive.

"no! you just- you said you didn't want to come." he scrambles for the reply.

"so you don't want me here?" hongjoong asks immediately, making wooyoung's face fall.

"that's not what i said!" he argues. "i do. that's why i asked you in the first place. i'm glad you're here."

"good!" whiplash. that's what it's like talking to hongjoong. "i'm here for you, though, even though i don't want to be, so i'm glad you're glad. i just didn't see how you'd be able to have a good time, y'know. but then i decided to come and save you from it all."

that makes wooyoung's heart sink. "i don't need saving," he says, voice small. "i'm actually having a really good time..."

"that's great, wooyoung." his voice is scathing, disingenuous. "i'm glad i'm so important to you."

now he's confused, because hongjoong's the one who didn't want to be here. who said it would be lame. as his soulmate, he should be happy for wooyoung, right? he's not sure when he implied that his boyfriend isn't important. he's been trying, so hard, to make it so he is.

"i can't— i don't know why you're being like this—" he tries, exasperated. "look, i just wanna go back to the dance, and have fun—"

"you can't not want to be with me, wooyoung. i don't want you to go back." he grabs at his sleeve, but wooyoung rips his arm away.

"i want to go back!" he exclaims, shutting his eyes. "i'm having fun."

things are escalating too quickly, and it's all stressing him out. he doesn't feel safe. but he can't leave, can't go back, when hongjoong just keeps going.

"have fun?" he goads, footsteps sounding again. "you're having fun, parading yourself around like a whore?"

that hurts. the chord strikes too true, and racks him with guilt. he's suddenly uncomfortable, wanting to cover himself up. every bit of skin on show feels like it's burning.

"n-no," he stutters, flinching a bit. "i thought you liked my outfit." he hates how small his voice sounds.

"i do," hongjoong frets, "i do. i'm sorry, i shouldn't have said that. that's not fair, you do look nice! of course, you'd have to compensate..."

compensate?! now, he's a little angry. he doesn't want to accept it, but he's pretty certain hongjoong's implying he's over-sexualizing himself to make his blindness be overlooked. that the trait makes him undesirable. it's feeding his anxieties.

"compensate?" he repeats, stopping. "look, i just want to go back. i don't want to fight with you right now. honestly? it's ruining my mood."

"we're not fighting. this isn't a fucking fight." hongjoong rambles quickly. "soulmates do not fight. sorry that i'm such a terrible burden. all i do is ruin your mood, i see. bet there's someone else you'd rather be with."

that's the first thing he's said that's right. it hurts so much less to admit, at this point. but he ignores him, deciding not to react to his jibes anymore.

and then. and then, and then, and then. it feels like hongjoong grabs his arm, roughly, perhaps jolts him too hard. but.

wooyoung's falling, unable to catch his balance, shoved. down the stairs, banging his hip and scraping his back, the sound of his body hitting the floor with an ungraceful thwump.

what?

he's sprawled awkwardly, unmoving. his hip is throbbing painfully, and he can't find where his cane has clattered to. tears sting in his eyes, a pained grunt stuck in his throat.

there's a moment, and then, "did you just push me?"

struggling to get up, he backs away from the sound of hongjoong scrambling down to him. "no. no. you fell, wooyoung. you fucking fell."

did i? he's not really sure. one of the great benefits of being blind to his surroundings, which hongjoong is all too quick to point out. "it's because- it's because you can't see where you're going. i was just trying to take your arm, wooyoung. why would anyone believe you? obviously you fell. why are you looking for a reason to get away from me? of course you're making this my fault."

he's at a loss, honestly. words just won't come to him. he's sure— or he thinks he is— but— what hongjoong is saying makes sense. why would his soulmate push him? no one would believe that.

still not saying anything, wooyoung manages to get up. dusting off his pants as best as can, he straightens his jacket, running a hand through his hair. now more than ever, he's eager to get away.

"i'll come get you from the after party, yeah?" hongjoong says, and he just nods, the motion barely noticeable.

he wants to say no, but the word won't form on his tongue. all he feels is small, sore, and much too exposed. and before he can say anything more, hongjoong is leaving.

wooyoung's not sure how long he stands there, a lump stuck in his throat. not to mention he can't find his cane. it's probably somewhere close by, but he doesn't really want to get on his knees and pat around on the ground for it.

he sits on the steps, trying to hold back tears, looking forward to getting drunk enough to forget this.

•••

third person(?)

later, the alcohol seems to be doing the job. there's not a shot offer he doesn't accept, downing each with a spluttered shudder.

he told yeosang he'd fallen, laughed along when his best friend called him an idiot and helped retrieve his cane. retained excitement for the after-party.

and every time he feels a weight crushing on his shoulders, a feeling of confusion or sadness, wooyoung just downs another drink. it hits him fast, too fast, until those moments are few and far between.

he tries to stay with yeosang, with his friends, people he knows. and he was with them, a second ago. but he's suddenly not, unsure of when that had changed.

buzzing hotly, he feels hazy, having absolutely no idea where he is.

it makes him laugh aloud. oh. i'm drunk.

san's laugh sounds right next to him, which he registers somewhere in the back of his mind. was he here the whole time?

but now that he's aware san is here, or now that he's remembered, wooyoung turns to cling to him, nosing into his neck, inhaling deeply.

"c'mon, you're drunk..." san mumbles, probably not much better himself.

he's buzzing pleasantly, heated when san's arm goes around his waist. "so are you," wooyoung giggles, stumbling after san into the kitchen.

"hydrate, hydrate..." san's mumbling nonsense, absentmindedly poking for the tap handle. the blonde hums happily, turning his head so his nose is against san's neck again.

he's very close, but san's brain is screaming that he's not close enough. once he's managed to fill their clean cups with water, san steps away from wooyoung so he can drink without spilling on himself.

they stand opposite eachother, wooyoung leaning against the counter. his eyelids are heavy, and he's looking at san. just looking at him.

san wants to laugh again under his gaze, but somewhere this isn't funny anymore. he's not sure what he's doing or why his body is moving without permission from his brain, but he's leaning forward.

he knows wooyoung can feel his breath close to face- can feel his hesitation as he grips the counter next to where he's leaning. he doesn't move.

and then san's kissing the corner of his mouth, just a light brush of his lips, like he can't help himself. "wooyoung," he whispers, his name barely intelligible.

he chases his lips with his own, wanting to catch them properly. his face is pinched in pain, hating that he can't help himself and that he can't have him. but he wants him. so much.

wooyoung's is twisted similarly, and san feels his chest exploding with the destroyed expression on it. he thinks he might be leaning closer, but he's not sure. it feels so fast, so slow, and above all not enough.

and then. he's moving, lifting wooyoung up onto the counter, the younger making a small breathy sound of surprise. it sounds like relief.

and so quickly, his arms are winding around his shoulders, his legs securing themselves around san's waist. gripping his sides tighter, san's fingers dig into the material of his shirt. he wants it off, but he wants to kiss him more.

it's been so long. so long. well, it really hasn't. but it has. eyebrows pinched together like he's really fighting with himself, san gives up. wooyoung's already leaning down, their lips capturing eachother.

one hand slides over his shoulder and down his bare back, eliminating any space between them. his skin is so soft, and hot under his hands. it's fire and he feels so alive.

wooyoung's hands are clasped at the back of his head, half pulling his hair and half pushing his neck toward him. the kiss is drunk and messy, rushed and desperate.

they're losing themselves in eachother, and san's desperation is turning braver. want washes over him as he begins to undo the ribbons holding wooyoung together, hand slipping under his shirt.

but the blonde catches his wrist, abruptly breaking the kiss. san can feel him shaking. suddenly, he feels more sober than he's ever been.

reality strikes san hard in the face, making him reluctant to open his eyes. their faces are still within a centimeter distance, and all it takes is a slight raise of his head to cause their mouths to brush again.

shortly following, wooyoung pulls away. "we cant," he says softly.

frustration grips san, spurring him to reshut his eyes. the anger dies on his lips when he opens them and sees wooyoung, though.

the boy's previously perfect hair is a ravaged blonde mess, and his lips are swollen and a similar shade to the redness of his cheeks. but that's not what catches his attention. wooyoung's blue eyes are fearful, flickering in the dimly lit kitchen.

"can we just- forget this happened?" wooyoung pleads, shaky gaze averted. "it was a stupid mistake. another stupid mistake."

san's hands fall to rest on his thighs, breathing not yet steadied. "it wasn't a mistake. none of it. you know that." he's sure wooyoung knows. he's sure. "the result of drunken impulsiveness- maybe. but i-" before he can finish, the blonde stops him, reaching across to hold the front of his shirt frantically.

"please?" he repeats, bright eyes darting over san's face. "no one can find out about this. hongjoong will-" he breaks off, releasing san's shirt and exhaling.

"what?" san asks, his suspicion returning. "what will he do, wooyoung? are you— are you scared of him?"

wooyoung bites his lip, sliding off of the counter after shoving san away. "no." he states, unconvincingly. "why would i be scared of my soulmate?"

and then, he's poised over the sink, emptying the contents of his stomach.

-

this is a rollercoaster ?!

and yeah that's basically san's look since y'all greedy and wanted to see just shirt is black🙄

I AM SO TIRED OF HAVING THE DUMBEST READERS !!! NO THE FORESHADOWING ISNT ABOUT SEX <3!</3!

love you guys the most❤️❤️❤️my little dummies 🙄❤️🙄❤️

xxx