Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Wooyoung was going insane.

He had looked everywhere. The couch, the laundry basket, under his bed, even in Yeosang’s room on the off chance he had taken it by mistake. But no. His favorite black hoodie was still missing.

This was not the first time.

For the third time that week, his favorite hoodie had gone missing. The black one with the soft lining, the one that smelled like vanilla fabric softener because he actually took care of his clothes. It wasn’t in the closet. It wasn’t in the laundry. It wasn’t even on the couch where he sometimes left it after practice. 

One day, he’d go to grab the hoodie, and it would be gone. A day later, it would mysteriously return, casually draped over the back of a chair like it had never left in the first place. 

Wooyoung wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly who the culprit was.

Choi San.

A laugh rang from across the dorm, and Wooyoung stomped toward the source. Without bothering ho knock, he pushed open San’s door and was not surprised by what he found.

There he was.

San sat on his bed, back completely relaxed against the headboard, scrolling on his phone, wearing Wooyoung’s hoodie.

The sleeves were pulled over his hands, the oversized hood resting against his shoulders, as if it had always belonged to him.

San barely glanced up. “Oh. Hey.” he said innocently.

“Oh, hey?” Wooyoung repeated, eyes narrowing. “That’s all you have to say?”

San smirked and locked his phone, tossing it aside. “Something wrong?”

Wooyoung pointed at the hoodie. “That is wrong.”

San looked down at himself, then back up at Wooyoung, feigning innocence. “What? This? I don’t see a problem.”

Wooyoung crossed his arms. “You stole it again.”

San stretched his arms above his head, making the fabric ride up slightly. “Stole? That’s a strong word.”

Wooyoung sighed. This guy.

“I asked you last week why my hoodies kept disappearing, and you just laughed.” Wooyoung stepped closer, ignoring the way San’s smirk deepened. “You didn’t even deny it! Why do you keep taking my clothes? You have your own hoodies, you know?”

San shrugged, tugging the hoodie closer around himself. “They’re comfy.”

Wooyoung threw his hands in the air. “So are yours!”

“Mine aren’t as comfy as yours.”

Wooyoung gaped at him. “That’s your excuse?”

“Mm.” San finally looked up, eyes glinting with mischief. “And this one smells like you.” 
San’s voice was completely nonchalant, but his eyes flickered with something unreadable.

Wooyoung’s brain short-circuited.

What.

No. No, no, no. San was just messing with him. He had to be. That was their thing - flirting for fun, pushing each other’s buttons, seeing who would crack first. But this? This felt different.

The dorm suddenly felt too warm, his heartbeat picking up in a way that was not normal. It didn’t help that San was still watching him, head tilted slightly like he was waiting to see Wooyoung’s reaction.

“Wh—What does that even mean?” Wooyoung stammered, trying not to sound as flustered as he felt.

San shrugged, a lazy grin forming. “Dunno. Just that it smells nice. Feels nice.”
He stretched his arms above his head, making the hoodie ride up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. “Maybe I should just keep it.” San pouted. “You never wear this one anyway.”

Wooyoung scoffed. “That’s because you keep taking it!”

San laughed, the sound low and way too attractive for someone currently committing a crime.

Wooyoung scowled, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up his neck. “Give it back.”

“No.”

“San.”

“Nope.”

Wooyoung exhaled sharply through his nose. “Fine. Then I’ll take something of yours.”

San blinked. “Huh?”

Wooyoung glanced around the room before walking over to San’s desk chair, where a very familiar hoodie hung over the backrest. The navy blue one San always wore when he slept and felt cold.

San sat up immediately. “Yah—”

But Wooyoung was faster. He grabbed the hoodie and held it up, wiggling it in the air. “See how you like it.”

San’s expression shifted. “That’s different.”

“Oh?” Wooyoung smirked. “How?”

San hesitated, then muttered, “That’s my favorite.”

Wooyoung’s grin widened. “Ohhh, now it’s a problem?”

San crossed his arms, jaw tightening. “It’s not the same.”

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because I think it is.” He pulled the hoodie over his head dramatically. “In fact, I might just wear this all the time.”

San exhaled through his nose, shaking his head with a small smile. “You’re annoying.”

Wooyoung grinned. “So are you.”

San didn’t reply, just watched him with that same unreadable look. Then he muttered, “It suits you.”

Wooyoung froze.

It was such a simple comment. A tiny, casual compliment. But something about the way San said it - soft, genuine, almost too quiet to catch, made something flip inside Wooyoung’s chest.

He swallowed. “What?”

San shrugged. “I said it suits you.”

Wooyoung suddenly felt too aware of everything. The warmth of the hoodie, the weight of San’s gaze, the way his heartbeat had picked up for no reason. He needed to say something - anything - to break the tension. But before he could, Hongjoong’s voice rang from the hallway.

“Dinner’s ready, if you two are done flirting.”

Wooyoung and San both turned toward the door.

“We’re not flirting!” Wooyoung shoutet immediately.

Hongjoong didn’t even look up from his phone. “Mhm. Sure.”

San snorted, standing up and stretching. “We should go before Seonghwa steals all the fried chicken.”

Wooyoung took the chance to look anywhere but at San. “Yeah. Whatever.”

San brushed past him, but not before whispering, “Hope you sleep well in my hoodie.”

That sentence made Wooyoung stop for a second but he just shook his head and followed him into the kitchen.

Wooyoung didn’t even know why he reacted like this. San had always been touchy, always teasing him. But something about this moment, San sitting there in his hoodie, openly admitting that he liked how it smelled, was messing with Wooyoung’s ability to think straight. Still. Even now at the dining table.

No. No way. San was just messing with him, like always.

Dinner was a blur.

Wooyoung sat between Yunho and Yeosang, nodding along to conversations but barely paying attention. His mind was still stuck on earlier - on the way San had looked at him, on the way his voice had dropped just slightly when he said, Hope you sleep well in my hoodie.

It was stupid. He had no reason to feel weird about it. San teased him all the time. This was just San being San.

And yet.

Wooyoung tugged at the hem of the hoodie he had stolen in return, still wearing it like a trophy. It smelled like fabric softener too and something distinctly San. A mix of fresh laundry and the cologne he always wore - sandalwood and sage, mixed with something sweet and manly.

Across the table, San caught his eye and smirked sweetly.

Wooyoung immediately scowled and looked away, stabbing a piece of chicken with more force than necessary.

Yunho glanced at him. “You good?”

“Fine,” Wooyoung muttered, shoving food into his mouth.

San snickered but said nothing.

After dinner, Wooyoung tried to escape to his room, hoping that sleep would make him forget whatever this was. But of course, San had other plans.

Just as Wooyoung flopped onto his bed, there was a knock.

“I know you’re in there.” San’s voice was too smug.

Wooyoung groaned. “Go away.”

“Nope.”

Another knock.

Wooyoung sighed dramatically and rolled out of bed, throwing the door open. “What.”

San stood there, still wearing Wooyoung’s hoodie, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “I want my hoodie back.”

Wooyoung folded his arms. “No.”

San hummed, stepping into the room like he owned the place. “So you’re just keeping it now?”

Wooyoung huffed. “You kept mine first.”

San grinned. “So you’re saying you want a trade?”

Wooyoung’s mouth opened, then closed. That wasn’t what he was saying at all. But San’s tone, the way his voice dropped just slightly at the end..it was like he was daring Wooyoung to react.

“You can have it back tomorrow,” he finally muttered, avoiding San’s gaze.

San hummed again, eyes flicking over Wooyoung slowly. “Guess I’ll just have to wait, then.”

Something about the way he said it made Wooyoung’s stomach flip.

San turned toward the door but paused before stepping out. “Oh, by the way -” He glanced back with a dangerous smile. “You look good in my hoodie.”

Wooyoung slammed the door in his face.

And if his face was burning as he crawled back into bed - no, it wasn’t.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

The next day.

Wooyoung wasn’t exactly sure how it happened.

One moment, San was still smugly parading around in his stolen hoodie, looking way too comfortable in something that wasn’t his. The next, it had been carelessly tossed onto the back of the couch after dance practice, completely abandoned.

Wooyoung hadn’t even planned on taking it back.

But when he saw it lying there, San’s warmth still clinging to the fabric, something in him snapped. He snatched it up, hugged it to his chest protectively, and bolted to his room before San could notice.

Victory.

And yet, as he sat cross-legged on his bed, staring at the hoodie in his lap, he felt a ridiculous pang of disappointment.

Had San forgotten about it?

He had spent weeks stealing Wooyoung’s hoodies, wearing them around the dorm like he owned them. But now, he just... left this one behind? Like it didn’t matter?

Wooyoung scowled. That shouldn’t bother him. But it did, which was exactly why he needed to turn the tables.

If San wanted to keep messing with him, then fine. Two could play this game.

That’s how Wooyoung found himself hunched over his desk later that night, carefully folding a small piece of paper before slipping it into the hoodie’s front pocket.

A love letter.

Or at least, something that looked like one.

The note itself was embarrassingly dramatic, something straight out of a cheap romance drama. He made sure it sounded super mysterious, no name, no obvious clues, just vague, heartfelt words that would make San question everything.

Something like:

"I don’t know when it started, but every time you’re close, my heart races. Your shining eyes and your beautiful smile drive me crazy, and I hate how much I love it. It’s dumb, right? I’ll probably never say this out loud. But maybe one day.”

Then, with a smirk, he neatly folded the hoodie and placed it on San’s desk like nothing had happened.

Now, all he had to do was wait.

Wooyoung had never been the patient type.

Waiting for San to find the letter was torture. Every time he saw San walk past his room, every time San even looked in the direction of his desk, Wooyoung’s heart would stutter in anticipation.

But somehow San had yet to find it.

Which meant Wooyoung had to suffer.

For two whole days, the hoodie remained untouched. San was wearing a different one now, a gray oversized one that Wooyoung almost considered stealing as well in revenge. But he held back, reminding himself that his master plan would be worth it.

And then, finally-

“Yah, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung had been lounging on the couch, pretending to scroll through his phone when San’s voice rang through the dorm. He looked up, feigning innocence as San walked in, hoodie in hand.

“I found something in this.” San held up the folded note between two fingers.

Wooyoung blinked. “Huh? What is it?”

San narrowed his eyes. “You tell me.”

Wooyoung sat up straighter, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

San scoffed, unfolding the note and skimming it again. His expression was unreadable, his brows furrowed slightly as if he were trying to decode something.

Wooyoung, meanwhile, was trying very hard not to combust.

San tilted his head, voice softer now. “It’s a love letter.”

Wooyoung shrugged. “So?”

San gave him a long look. “So, who wrote it?”

Wooyoung leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms. “How should I know?”

San blinked at him. “You’re seriously telling me that some mystery person just happened to leave a love letter in your hoodie, which I just happened to steal?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

San squinted. “You’re lying. I know you.”

“I’m not.”

San sighed, dropping onto the couch beside him. “Okay, so let’s say you’re telling the truth. Who could’ve put this there?”

Wooyoung pretended to think. “Maybe you have a secret admirer.”

San groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “This is gonna drive me crazy.”

Wooyoung had to physically stop himself from laughing.

This was perfect.

San was already spiraling, already overthinking. He was turning the letter over in his hands, reading it again, biting his lip in concentration.

Wooyoung just smirked. “Guess you’ll have to figure it out, huh?”

San shot him a glare. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little.”

San huffed but didn’t argue. Instead, he pocketed the letter, shaking his head. “Fine. But if I find out you’re lying, I’m getting revenge.”

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do?”

San’s smirk returned, slow and teasing. He leaned in just slightly, voice dropping. “Guess you’ll have to figure that out, huh? But since it wasn’t you, you won't ever find out anyway.” he sighed dramatically.

Wooyoung’s breath caught.

He barely had time to react before San stood up, tossing the hoodie over his shoulder as he walked away.

Wooyoung exhaled sharply, slumping against the couch as he processed what just happened.

He had pranked San.

But somehow…

San was winning.

San was taking the letter seriously.

Like, really seriously.

Wooyoung had expected him to laugh about it, maybe tease the others and demand to know who was in love with him. But instead, San had gone into full detective mode - thinking about it way too much, rereading the note like it held the meaning of life, and, worst of all… looking weirdly sentimental about it.

Wooyoung had been so confident when he planted the note. But now? Now he was panicking.

Because San wasn’t just brushing it off. He wasn’t making jokes or rolling his eyes. He was sitting on his bed, staring at the letter with this soft, almost dazed expression like it actually meant something to him.

Wooyoung wanted to scream.

Instead, he casually (very casually) leaned against the doorway of San’s room. “You’re still thinking about that?”

San glanced up, blinking like he hadn’t even noticed Wooyoung standing there. “Huh?”

“The letter,” Wooyoung said, nodding toward the paper in San’s hands. “You look like you’re trying to solve a math problem.”

San exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just… weird.”

“Weird how?”

San hesitated, fingers tightening around the paper. “…It feels real.”

Wooyoung paused. Because it was real.

Sort of.

Maybe.

But San didn’t know that, and Wooyoung had no plans of ever telling him.

“Maybe it is real,” Wooyoung said, tilting his head. “Maybe someone really does like you.”

San sighed, flopping onto his bed. “Yeah, but who?”

Wooyoung smirked, masking the tiny tremor in his chest. “I don’t know, Sannie. Maybe your mystery admirer wants you to figure it out yourself.”

San rolled onto his side, studying the letter again. His voice was quieter when he spoke. “…You really think so?”

Wooyoung’s breath caught. He wanted to slap himself.

Why did he sound so hopeful?

His smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. Then, quickly recovering, he shrugged. “Could be.”

San hummed, lost in thought. Then, almost to himself, he whispered, “I wouldn’t mind.”

Wooyoung froze.

Wouldn’t mind??

His heart started pounding.

This was not how things were supposed to go. San was supposed to be confused, maybe a little flustered. But now he was acting like he wanted the letter to be real.

Like… he wanted someone to like him.

Like he wanted-

Wooyoung swallowed hard.
He needed to end this before he dug himself into a hole he couldn’t climb out of.

“Well, good luck, detective Choi.” He forced a laugh, pushing off the doorway. “Let me know when you crack the case.”

San just smiled, soft and way too dangerous for Wooyoung’s peace of mind.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I will.”

Wooyoung turned quickly, leaving before he could do something stupid. But as he walked away, one terrifying thought refused to leave his head.

What if San was actually serious about this?

San was exhausted, but his mind refused to rest.

The gym session had helped - lifting, running, pushing his body until his muscles burned - but even that wasn’t enough to shake the thoughts lingering in his head.

The letter.

The words haunted him.

"I don’t know when it started, but every time you’re close, my heart races.. Your shining eyes and your beautiful smile drive me crazy, and I hate how much I love it."

San sighed, running a towel through his damp hair as he stepped into the shower. The hot water cascaded over his body, easing the tension in his muscles, but it did nothing to quiet his thoughts.

The letter could’ve been from anyone.

But the more he thought about it, the more his mind kept circling back to Wooyoung.

Little moments resurfaced in his head. The way Wooyoung would flinch when San got too close, the way his cheeks would redden whenever San complimented him, the way he’d hold eye contact just a little too long before looking away.

Was it possible?

Could it really be..?

San exhaled sharply, shaking his head. Don’t be stupid.

Wooyoung teased him all the time. He flirted with everyone. Always. If San let himself believe it was from him, he’d just be setting himself up for disappointment.

With a final rinse, he shut off the water and stepped out, grabbing a towel. The air in the dorm was cool against his skin as he dried himself off, but instead of grabbing something new to wear, his hands instinctively reached for the hoodie.

He pulled it over his head, inhaling deeply. It smelled faintly of detergent, but underneath that, there was something comforting. Something warm. Something that made him feel safe.

He lay down on his freshly made bed, closing his eyes for a moment, letting himself breathe. His body still thrummed with energy, his muscles sore but his mind restless.

There was something pent up inside him, a frustration he couldn’t quite name. Maybe it was the mystery of the letter. Maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about one person.

Maybe it was the realization that no matter how much he tried to deny it - 

He wanted the letter to be from Wooyoung.

San exhaled, his body shifting slightly against the mattress. He barely registered it at first, but his hand had drifted lower, slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers as his mind wandered-

To soft eyes that darted away whenever he held them too long.
To lips that curved into a teasing smirk before biting them in nervousness.
To a voice that was always loud and dramatic, except in those rare, quiet moments that made San’s chest tighten.

His breath hitched.

San clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stop.

This was ridiculous. He wasn’t supposed to think about Wooyoung like this. Not when he wasn’t even sure if-

He swallowed, pulling his hand away, running it through his hair instead. His heart was racing, his face hot despite the cool air.

He needed to figure this out. Because if there was even the smallest chance that Wooyoung had written that letter-

San wasn’t sure he could keep pretending he didn’t feel the same way.

He let out a slow breath, staring up at the ceiling as his fingers curled into the hem of the hoodie. His body was warm - too warm - but the chill of the night air wasn’t enough to cool him down.

His heart was still racing.

And it was so stupid.

It was just a letter.

Just words.

But those words had gotten to him.

San shut his eyes, frustration curling deep in his stomach. His hand had already wandered once, just a fleeting moment, barely anything, but the lingering heat in his body refused to fade.

And maybe it was because of the hoodie - because he was wearing it, because it had once belonged to Wooyoung, because it smelled like him.

A sharp exhale left his lips, and before he could stop himself, his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of his boxers again, his breath catching slightly at the contact.

He shouldn’t be doing this. But his mind wouldn’t shut up.

Wouldn’t stop replaying the way Wooyoung would flinch when San got too close. Wouldn’t stop picturing his flushed cheeks, the way his lips parted slightly when he got flustered, the way his eyes lingered for just a second too long before darting away.

And worse-

The idea that maybe, just maybe, Wooyoung wanted this too.

San’s breath hitched as his hand moved, on instinct now, slow, deliberate. The hoodie bunched slightly as his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths.

His teeth sank into his bottom lip, muffling the soft sound that threatened to escape as he kept stroking himself. His hard cock felt heavy in his hand.

He shouldn’t be thinking about Wooyoung, about his best friend like this.

But all he could picture was Wooyoung pressed up against him, wide-eyed and breathless. Wooyoung’s voice, teasing but shaky. Wooyoung’s hands, gripping his hoodie, pulling him closer.

A shaky sigh slipped past his lips as heat coiled tighter inside him. He was so close already.

It was all too much. Too overwhelming.

And when release finally hit, San gasped, his body tensing before slowly unraveling.

For a long moment, all he could do was lay there, catching his breath, his fingers still curled into the hoodie.

Then reality sank in. San cursed. What the hell was he doing?

Guilt and frustration warred inside him as he shoved a hand through his damp hair, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers.

This had to stop.

He couldn’t keep doing this to himself.

He needed to know.

Because if there was even the slightest chance that Wooyoung had written that letter - Then San wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep holding back.

San was still catching his breath, his body tense as the last waves of pleasure faded. His chest rose and fell heavily, warmth still lingering under his skin.

It had been too much. Too intense. Too real.

And it was all because of him.

His grip on the hoodie loosened, his fingers brushing over the fabric and that’s when he noticed it.

His stomach dropped.

Some of his cum had landed on the hoodie, building a warm, damp spot. Not just a little. It was quite a lot...and unmistakable on the black fabric.

San groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

The universe was out to get him.

With a frustrated sigh, he sat up, peeling the hoodie off as carefully as possible. He had to get it cleaned before anyone, especially Wooyoung saw it.

He stood, gripping the hoodie in one hand as he padded toward the bathroom. He just needed to rinse it out quickly, pretend like none of this happened.

But, of course-

Just as he stepped into the hallway, he nearly crashed straight into Wooyoung. San froze.

Wooyoung blinked up at him, already mid-yawn, dressed in loose pajama pants and an old t-shirt. His hair was tousled from sleep, his lips slightly parted, his eyes still heavy-lidded.

And San’s brain short-circuited.

Because he had just been -
Because Wooyoung looked like -
Because the hoodie was still in his hands, dammit.

Wooyoung rubbed his eyes. “You’re still awake?”

San’s throat felt dry.

“Y-Yeah. Couldn’t sleep,” he said quickly, gripping the hoodie tighter. He was suddenly hyper-aware of everything, his flushed skin, the lingering heat in his body, the hoodie incriminatingly balled up in his fist.

Wooyoung squinted at him, his gaze flicking down. “What’s that?”

San’s heart stopped.

“Nothing,” he blurted out, stepping back. “Just—uh. Laundry.”

Wooyoung snorted. “At this hour?”

San hated how amused he sounded. “Yeah. Problem?”

Wooyoung tilted his head, crossing his arms. “No, just didn’t think you cared that much about clean clothes.”

San forced a laugh, shifting on his feet. “Well, I do.”

Wooyoung hummed, his gaze dropping to the hoodie again. “Wait a sec-” He frowned. “Is that my hoodie?”

San gripped it tighter.

“No.”

Wooyoung’s frown deepened. “Then why does it look-”

“Goodnight, Wooyoung.”

San bolted.

He turned on his heel and strode down the hall before Wooyoung could say another word, heading straight for the bathroom.

Behind him, he heard Wooyoung mutter, “Weirdo.”

San groaned under his breath, shutting the door behind him.

This was a disaster. He needed to get a grip.

Because if Wooyoung kept looking at him like that - he really wouldn’t be able to hold himself back.

San had barely managed to scrub the hoodie clean before exhaustion hit him like a truck.

His body was drained, his mind in shambles. Even as he lay back down in bed, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts refused to settle.

Because Wooyoung.

Because San had never thought about him like that before. Not like this. Sure, he’d always been aware of how attractive Wooyoung was. Anyone with eyes could see that, but this was different.

The letter had cracked something open inside him.

And now? Now, he wasn’t sure if he could push it all back down.

San sighed, turning onto his side, his hands clutching the now clean hoodie as he finally let sleep take over.

The next morning, San woke up feeling like hell.

He had barely gotten any sleep, his mind looping through the same thoughts, the same images. His body was still tense, his frustration barely kept in check.

And then-

Wooyoung walked into the kitchen, still dressed in his pajamas, stretching his arms with a soft groan. His shirt lifted just slightly, revealing a sliver of skin, and San had to look away immediately.

Nope. Not today.

But Wooyoung must have noticed something was off, because he zeroed in on San instantly.

“You’re acting weird,” he said, squinting at him as he reached for a cup of coffee.

San tensed. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

Wooyoung took a slow sip of coffee, still watching him. Then, as if testing him, he leaned against the counter and smirked. “You sure? You ran away from me last night like I caught you doing something illegal.”

San’s entire body locked up.

Wooyoung noticed.

“Oh my God,” Wooyoung breathed, setting his cup down. “I was joking. But you actually-”

“I didn’t do anything,” San said quickly. Too quickly.

Wooyoung’s grin widened. “Oh, you totally did.”

San needed to shut this down. Immediately.

He squared his shoulders, meeting Wooyoung’s gaze head-on. “You want to talk about weird behavior? What about you?”

Wooyoung blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

San stepped closer, the playful air shifting. “You’ve been acting weird too.”

Wooyoung frowned, but there was a flicker of something in his expression, something uncertain. “No, I haven’t.”

San tilted his head. “Oh, really? So it’s just my imagination that you get all flustered when I get close? That you always look away when I catch you staring?”

Wooyoung’s lips parted slightly.

San kept going.

“Or how about the fact that you put a love letter in my hoodie and then acted like you had no idea where it came from?”

Silence.

Wooyoung’s eyes widened. His breath caught for just a second, barely noticeable but San noticed.

And that was it. That was all the confirmation he needed.

San took another step forward, watching as Wooyoung instinctively stepped back, his back hitting the counter.

There was nowhere left to run.

San leaned in slightly, his voice softer now.

“Say it,” he murmured.

Wooyoung swallowed hard. “Say what?”

San held his gaze. “Say it wasn’t you.”

Wooyoung’s breath caught in his throat. His hands curled into fists at his sides, his jaw clenched - but he didn’t say anything.

San exhaled, his lips curling into a slow, knowing smile.

“Thought so.”

Wooyoung was frozen.

He held his breath the moment San leaned in, his voice soft but firm, demanding something Wooyoung wasn’t sure he could give.

"Say it wasn’t you."

But he couldn’t.

His throat was dry, his heart hammering in his chest, and all he could do was stare at San like a deer caught in headlights.

And San knew.

San’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile, but there was something else in his expression too, something uncertain. Something that looked almost…hopeful.

That’s when panic kicked in.

Because if San was hoping - if San was really thinking this was true, then Wooyoung had just made a huge mistake.

Before he could come up with an excuse, before he could even breathe properly, San suddenly grabbed his wrist.

“Come with me,” he muttered.

“What-?”

Wooyoung barely had time to react before he was being pulled out of the kitchen.

“San, wait-”

But San didn’t stop.

He led them quickly down the hall, ignoring Wooyoung’s half-hearted protests, before finally pulling him into his bedroom and shutting the door behind them.

Wooyoung swallowed hard.

It wasn’t like he had never been alone with San before. They were best friends. They had spent countless late nights talking, teasing, laughing until their stomachs hurt.

But this was different.

San still hadn’t let go of his wrist.

And his expression was serious, almost vulnerable. It made something in Wooyoung’s chest ache.

San let out a slow breath, like he was trying to steady himself. “Just tell me the truth, Woo,” he said quietly.

Wooyoung flinched.

San only called him "Woo" when he was being serious. When it was just the two of them and he needed Wooyoung to be real with him.

“I-” Wooyoung’s voice betrayed him. It cracked slightly, and he hated how weak it sounded.

San’s grip on his wrist tightened just a little. Not enough to hurt, but enough to say, Don’t run from this.

“I need to know,” San continued, his voice lower now. “Because if there’s even a chance that it was you-” He broke off, exhaling sharply, his fingers twitching against Wooyoung’s skin.

Wooyoung clenched his jaw. “San, just drop it.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” San’s jaw tensed. His eyes darkened, filled with something frustrated and desperate.

“Because I don’t want to get my hopes up if this is all just a joke to you.”

Wooyoung looked up at him.
San’s voice was strained, his expression raw in a way that made Wooyoung feel so guilty he could barely breathe.

“I’m serious, Woo,” San whispered. “If it wasn’t you, just say it. I’ll believe you.”

Wooyoung’s heart ached. He could end this right now.

All he had to do was lie. Say it wasn’t him. Laugh it off. Blame someone else. Move on.

But when he looked into San’s eyes - so full of something unspoken, something hopeful and terrified all at once - the words wouldn’t come.

Because he wanted it. God, he wanted it so bad.

But it was too risky.

“San…” His voice cracked again. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

San swallowed. “Yeah. I do.”

Wooyoung shook his head, feeling the walls closing in.

“If I tell you the truth…” He hesitated, his own hands clenching into fists. “Then what?”

San was silent.

Because he didn’t know.

And that made everything so much worse.

San could feel his heart break. It hurt.

More than he expected. More than he thought it ever could.

Because deep down, no matter how much he had tried to push it aside, to ignore it, he knew.

He knew he felt more for Wooyoung than just friendship.

It had been there for so long, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for something - anything - to tip it over the edge.

And he thought, he really thought, that Wooyoung felt the same way.

Maybe. Possibly.

Because of the way they always acted around each other. The teasing. The lingering touches. The way Wooyoung would fluster whenever San complimented him. The way their fans –Atinys – had even started shipping them because it was so obvious. Even his parents called him their second son. Treated Wooyoung like their son-in-law.

San had convinced himself that it was real.

That Wooyoung wasn’t just playing. That he wasn’t just being friendly.

But now - the silence.

Wooyoung wasn’t saying anything.

San searched his face, hoping, praying, for something, anything, but all he saw was hesitation.

Doubt. Fear.

San’s chest tightened. His fingers twitched against Wooyoung’s skin, but slowly, painfully, he let his hand drop from his shoulder.

The loss of warmth felt like a slap.

San swallowed, forcing a small, bitter laugh.

“Got it,” he muttered.

Wooyoung flinched. “San-”

“No, it’s fine.” San cut him off, shaking his head. His voice was quieter now, but there was something heavy in it. “You don’t have to say anything. I get it.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened, panic flashing across his face. “That’s not-”

“Forget it, Woo,” San interrupted again, stepping back. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

It was a lie. He had to ask.

Because if he didn’t, he would’ve just kept wondering. Kept hoping.

And hope hurt.

Wooyoung looked like he wanted to say something. His lips parted slightly, his hands twitching at his sides, but no words came out.

San exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face, trying to breathe. Trying to act normal when everything inside him felt like it was crumbling.

“I should go,” he said, voice strained. “I—I need some air.”

Wooyoung reached for him. “San, wait—”

San flinched.

And Wooyoung must have noticed because his hand fell short, his fingers curling into his palm instead.

San hated it.

Hated that he had reacted that way.

Hated that Wooyoung was looking at him like that. But he couldn’t stay here.

Not when his heart was breaking over someone who couldn’t even say the truth out loud.

Without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving Wooyoung standing alone in his room.

San barely made it to his room before his breath shook.

He closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a second, squeezing his eyes shut.

Get a grip, San.

But his chest felt tight. Like something inside him was breaking apart, piece by piece, and no matter how much he tried to push it down, it stayed.

The feeling of rejection. The feeling of being wrong about everything he thought he knew.

For weeks, really...weeks, he had held onto Wooyoung’s hoodie. Had refused to give it back, had even slept in it some nights when he missed him more than he should have.

But now? He didn’t want it anymore.

He pushed himself off the door, walking over to his chair where the hoodie had been draped over the back. The fabric was soft, familiar, and for a second - just a second - San hesitated.

Because once he gave it back, it would feel like…an ending.

But maybe that was what he needed.

With a tight jaw, he grabbed the hoodie. He pulled open his drawer, finding the letter Wooyoung had never admitted to writing, and shoved it into the pocket.

Then, without another thought, he walked right back out.

His heart was pounding.

He didn’t let himself stop.

Didn’t let himself think.

When he reached Wooyoung’s room, he didn’t knock. He just pushed the door open, stepping inside.

Wooyoung turned around fast, clearly startled. He hadn’t moved much from where San had left him, still standing there, looking like he had been lost in his own thoughts.

His eyes widened slightly when he saw what San was holding.

San exhaled, holding out the hoodie.

“Here’s your hoodie,” he said.

Wooyoung hesitated, looking between San and the hoodie, as if unsure whether to take it.

San clenched his jaw. He wasn’t done.

“And your letter,” he added, pulling it out of the pocket.

Before Wooyoung could react, San pushed it into his hands.

Wooyoung’s fingers curled around the fabric, his lips parting again slightly like he wanted to say something, but San didn’t wait.

He turned on his heel and walked out, shutting the door behind him.

The moment the door clicked shut, San felt it.

The sharp sting in his eyes. The painful lump in his throat.

He never cried.

Not really.

Not in front of people, not alone. He had always been strong. Sure, he had his moments - Atinys knew. They knew he had a very soft heart beneath all of it. But this?

This was something he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time.

The kind of pain that settled deep. That made his breath uneven, made his hands shake.

Because it wasn’t just about the hoodie.

It wasn’t just about the letter.

It was about the fact that for the first time in his life, he had let himself hope for something real.

And Wooyoung couldn’t even say the words.

San pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, exhaling shakily, wiping away a few tears.

He wasn’t going to cry.

But damn, it hurt.

Chapter Text

Wooyoung stood frozen.

His hoodie felt heavier than it should have in his hands, the fabric still warm from San’s touch.

And the letter…

He stared at it, thumb brushing over the folded edges.

San had given it back.

He hadn’t said anything else. Hadn’t fought. Hadn’t asked again.

Just…walked away.

And Wooyoung had let him.

His throat felt tight. He wanted to chase after him, fix this, but his feet wouldn’t move.

Because the truth was, he didn’t know how.

For so long, San had been his constant. His best friend, his safe place, the person who understood him the most. But somewhere along the way, things had changed. The lingering touches, the stolen glances, the way his heart reacted whenever San got too close - it wasn’t just friendship anymore. They had always had a special bond.

And maybe he had been a coward, maybe he had hesitated too long.

Because now, the way San looked at him wasn’t the same.

Dinner was quiet. Too quiet.

The others noticed. Seonghwa kept glancing between them. Hongjoong raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Yeosang nudged Wooyoung under the table, as if to ask, What the hell is going on?

But Wooyoung didn’t answer.

Because San wasn’t talking to him.

Not in the usual way. Not with teasing remarks, playful shoves, or soft, knowing smiles.

Instead, San was distant. Focused on his food. Engaging in conversation with everyone else but him.

It felt wrong.

They had spent years being inseparable, always in sync. But now, there was a space between them that felt impossible to cross.

And it was his fault.

That night, Wooyoung lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Thinking. Regretting.

The hoodie sat folded on his desk, the letter placed on top of it. A constant reminder of everything he had screwed up.

San had put himself out there. He had given Wooyoung a chance to tell the truth. To be honest about what they were.

And Wooyoung had let his fear win.

But now, seeing the way San had pulled away, seeing how much he had hurt him..Wooyoung knew he couldn’t let it end like this.

The next day, practice was brutal.

Their new choreography was demanding. Sharp movements, intricate footwork, lifts that required absolute trust in their partners.

Wooyoung and San had always been the perfect duo when it came to dancing. Their bodies moved together like they were built for it, understanding each other’s rhythm without even thinking.

But today? It was off.

Wooyoung could feel the tension in every step, the hesitation in every move. They weren’t looking at each other, weren’t connected the way they usually were. And it was affecting the dance.

The music stopped abruptly.

“You two need to fix whatever’s going on,” Yunho said, sighing. “It’s throwing everything off.”

Wooyoung swallowed hard. San still wouldn’t look at him.

Enough.

When practice finally ended, Wooyoung didn’t give himself time to hesitate. He caught up to San before he could leave the room, grabbing his wrist gently.

San stiffened.

“Can we talk?” Wooyoung asked, his voice quieter than he intended.

San turned slowly, his face unreadable. His eyes flickered with something - pain, hesitation, maybe even hope - but he quickly masked it.

For a moment, Wooyoung thought he might say no. But then, San sighed and gave a small nod.

“Yeah,” he murmured.

They stepped into one of the smaller side rooms. San leaned against the mirrored wall, arms crossed, waiting.

Wooyoung hesitated, but only for a second. Because if he didn’t say this now, he might never get another chance.

“I lied,” he finally said.

San’s jaw tensed. “About what?”

Wooyoung exhaled, forcing himself to meet his gaze.

“The letter,” he admitted, voice soft but steady. “It was from me.”

San held his breath. For a second, he didn’t react. He just stood there, blinking, as if processing the words. Then, his lips parted slightly. His eyes darkened. “Then why didn’t you just say it?”

His voice wasn’t angry. It wasn’t even cold.

It was hurt.

Wooyoung felt his chest tighten. “Because I was scared.”

San scoffed, shaking his head. “Scared of what?”

Wooyoung swallowed. “Of ruining us.”

San’s expression faltered.

Wooyoung took a step closer, gripping the hem of his shirt like it could hold him together.

“You’re my best friend, San,” he whispered. “And for so long, that’s all we were supposed to be. But then…I started feeling something else. And I didn’t know if you felt the same. I didn’t want to mess things up.”

San let out a breath, tilting his head back against the mirror. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” he muttered.

Wooyoung let out a weak laugh, but there was no real humor in it. “I know,” he admitted.

San finally looked at him. Really looked at him.

And for the first time since that night, Wooyoung saw something besides hurt in his eyes.

Something vulnerable. Something real.

San sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “So… what now?”

Wooyoung hesitated, but then, before he could talk himself out of it, he reached out, grabbing San’s hand.

San tensed but didn’t pull away.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Wooyoung admitted. His voice was barely above a whisper. “Not as my best friend. Not as… anything else.”

San exhaled slowly. His fingers curled slightly around Wooyoung’s.

“You won’t,” he murmured.

Wooyoung’s heart stuttered.

“amicus”

San’s lips twitched - just a little. Just enough.

“ad aras” he said softly.

San didn’t hesitate this time. He stepped forward and pulled Wooyoung into a tight, lingering hug.

Wooyoung barely had time to react before he was pressed against San’s chest, his arms instinctively coming up to hold onto him.

San’s strong arms wrapped securely around his back, his hand pressing firmly between Wooyoung’s shoulder blades. He held him close, like he didn’t want to let go, like he needed this just as much as Wooyoung did.

Wooyoung let out a shaky breath, his face resting against the side of San’s neck. The scent of him was warm, familiar, comforting. It made his chest ache.

San exhaled slowly, his breath brushing against Wooyoung’s temple.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

They just stood there, holding onto each other, letting the silence fill in the gaps where words had failed them before.

Then, finally, San’s voice broke through the quiet. His tone was soft. Confessing.

“You know…” He hesitated, his fingers absentmindedly tracing soothing circles against Wooyoung’s back. “I used to tease you on purpose.”

Wooyoung’s brows furrowed slightly against San’s skin, but he didn’t move. He just listened.

San let out a small chuckle. It was breathless, almost nervous.

“The way I used to flirt with you,” he admitted. “Holding eye contact longer than I should. Saying things just to make you flustered. Also during interviews. Even our Fans noticed.”

Wooyoung felt his heartbeat pick up.

San exhaled. “I told myself it was just for fun. That it didn’t mean anything. But…”

His voice dropped lower, almost like he was scared to say it out loud.

“But the truth is…”

His grip around Wooyoung tightened.

“I’ve felt more for you for a long time. What Atinys say is real.”

Wooyoung’s breath hitched.

San had said it - finally said it.

For a moment, Wooyoung couldn’t speak. He just clung to San a little tighter, burying his face against his shoulder. Because the weight of his own emotions felt overwhelming.

How long had they both been feeling this way? How long had they both been too scared to admit it?

San had always been a presence in his life that felt constant. But now, standing here, wrapped in his arms, Wooyoung realized -

San wasn’t just constant. He was everything.

His throat felt tight, but he swallowed past it. And then, slowly, he pulled back just enough to see San’s face.

San met his eyes, searching, waiting.

And Wooyoung didn’t hesitate.

He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to San’s cheek.

It wasn’t the first time.

He had done it plenty of times before. On stage, in front of cameras, just for fun. He was known for his little kisses and pecks.

But this time? This time, it felt different.

A confirmation.

San’s eyes softened, his lips parting slightly in surprise.

For the first time in days, he smiled.

Wooyoung smiled too, finally, truly.

And just like that - 

They weren’t just best friends anymore.

The evening unfolded like any other.

The members were scattered across the dorm, each in their own little bubble. Some were on their phones, others lounging around, chatting, or watching TV. It was a typical night in the dorm. Familiar, comforting, like it always had been.

But there was something different tonight.

San and Wooyoung sat next to each other on the couch, their arms comfortably wrapped around each other, just like they always did. It was nothing new to the others, so no one even blinked at the sight.

They were always close. Always in each other’s space. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Yet, tonight, the usual familiarity felt...different.

For the first time in a long time, both of them could feel the shift.

There was a tension now. A quiet, unspoken understanding hanging in the air between them. They both caught themselves looking at each other. More than usual, their gazes lingering just a little too long, both wondering if the other could feel the change.

San’s heart beat a little faster every time their hands brushed or their eyes met. He noticed the way Wooyoung’s cheeks flushed slightly when they shared a moment of eye contact. It was subtle, but the electricity between them was undeniable.

Wooyoung, too, felt the difference. The way his chest fluttered when San’s strong arm tightened around him, the way his skin prickled from just the warmth of his body so close. It was impossible to ignore.

He shifted slightly, glancing at San from the corner of his eye, before quickly looking away. It was the first time since that moment that they’d been alone together, and the weight of everything they had confessed, everything that had changed between them, felt heavy in the air.

Finally, San broke the silence. His voice was low, almost a whisper as he leaned in, like he was testing the waters.

“Want to go to my room?”

Wooyoung’s heart skipped a beat.

He turned his head slowly, meeting San’s eyes. Those dark, unreadable eyes that held everything and nothing all at once. He bit his lip, a soft tension pulling at the pit of his stomach. He knew what San meant.

He could feel it too - the desire to be closer. To finally break through the walls they’d built between them. To let everything between them just…be.

Wooyoung nodded slowly, his lips curling up into a soft smile. “Yeah. I think… I think we should.”

San’s expression softened, a mix of relief and something else, something more vulnerable, passing over his features. He stood up, offering a hand to Wooyoung.

Without a second thought, Wooyoung took it, standing as well. The room felt quieter now, the laughter and noise of the other members fading into the background as the two of them made their way down the hallway to San’s room.

The walk felt like an eternity, though it was only a few steps.

When they reached the door, San paused, his hand on the handle. Wooyoung could feel his heart racing, could see the way San was holding himself back, like he wasn’t entirely sure how far they should push things.

But Wooyoung knew. It was time.

He stepped closer, resting his hand on San’s arm, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his shirt. San turned to look at him, his eyes soft, searching.

“You okay?” Wooyoung asked, his voice quieter than usual, careful.

San smiled faintly, the warmth in his eyes never leaving. “Yeah, I’m good. Just…” He paused, swallowing. “Just want to make sure this is what we both want.”

Wooyoung nodded. He didn’t have to say anything else. His gaze said it all.

This was what they both wanted.

San opened the door, letting Wooyoung enter first. The room was familiar, his room, but tonight, it felt different. It felt more intimate. More personal. He closed the door behind them, the soft click of it shutting echoing in the otherwise silent space.

They stood there for a moment, both unsure of what to do next.

Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. The air between them crackled with possibility.

Finally, San broke the tension again, this time stepping closer to Wooyoung. His fingers brushed the side of his face gently, sending a shiver down Wooyoung’s spine.

“Are you sure about this?” San asked again, his voice quieter than before, his breath warm against Wooyoung’s skin.

Wooyoung nodded, his hand moving to rest on San’s chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath his fingers.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

San’s lips curled into a smile, the kind that made Wooyoung’s chest flutter. Without another word, heleaned in, closing the space between them. The kiss was slow at first - tentative - though it deepened quickly with some tongue as if both of them were finally allowing themselves to feel what they had been holding back for so long.

Wooyoung’s arms wrapped around San’s neck, pulling him closer as San’s hands settled on his slim waist. Their bodies pressed together, the kiss intensifying as their feelings for each other spilled out into the moment.

It was a kiss that said everything.

No more hiding. No more uncertainty. Just the undeniable truth of everything they had built together, and everything that was still to come.

When they finally pulled away, both of them were breathing heavier than before, their foreheads resting together as they tried to regain some semblance of control.

San smiled softly, his hand gently cupping Wooyoung’s cheek.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispered.

Wooyoung looked up at him, his eyes full of affection. “Me too,” he whispered back.

For the first time in what felt like forever, everything was right.

And this time, neither of them was going to let it slip away.

Wooyoung’s body pressed flush against San’s, and the closeness made his head spin. His hands slid up to San’s chest, fingers brushing the hard muscle beneath the fabric. He could feel the heat of his body through the layers of clothing, and it only made his pulse quicken.

San let out a low groan, his lips trailing down Wooyoung’s jaw, kissing the delicate skin there before pulling him back into another kiss. This time, the kiss was deep but slow, each movement lingering as if they both needed time to process the shift in their relationship. The taste of each other was intoxicating - comforting, familiar, yet charged with something new.

They didn’t break the kiss, even as they slowly began to explore each other’s bodies more openly. San’s hands roamed, cautiously at first, but soon enough, they moved with purpose. His fingers traced the side of Wooyoung’s ribs, making him shiver under his touch. Letting his hands wander down to his butt cheeks.

“Yah!”  Wooyoung chuckled, a wave of heat rushing through him. He pulled away just slightly, his lips brushing over San’s as he spoke, his voice thick with desire.

“San…” he whispered, barely able to form a coherent sentence. “Are you sure?”

San met his gaze, his eyes dark with something that felt like need. “I’m sure, Woo. I want this.”

He let out a sigh as Wooyoung’s hands started to wander as if he had just given him permission, fingertips ghosting along his bare skin beneath his shirt. It was soft, uncertain at first, just exploring. But the way he shivered under his touch made Wooyoung bolder.

San’s hands weren’t idle either. He kept tracing slow, deliberate patterns over Wooyoung’s back, sliding beneath the fabric.
Their kiss was slow but intoxicating, tongues brushing against one another, lips parting only to catch their breath before seeking each other again.

Wooyoung’s fingers found the hem of San’s sweatpants, teasing along the waistband, feeling the veins on his lower stomach and the way it tensed beneath his touch.

San let out a low exhale, his grip on Wooyoung’s waist tightening.
“You’re teasing,” he murmured against the soft lips, his voice slightly rough but filled with warmth.

Wooyoung smirked, his fingers tracing just beneath the band before pulling away slightly, looking into San’s eyes. “And you like it,” he whispered.

San chuckled softly, his cute dimples showing even in the dim light. “Maybe.”
His hands moved lower, gripping Wooyoung’s hips, pulling him even closer until there was no space left between them. The warmth, the tension, the quiet understanding in their touches. It was all-consuming.
Neither of them rushed.
This felt so natural. They had never felt this close before.

San’s groaned as he felt the heat between them grow, the tension escalating with each passing second. He slid his hands under Wooyoung’s shirt, feeling the soft warmth of his skin, the muscles there taut under his touch.

Wooyoung’s response was immediate, his own hands moving to San’s muscular chest, the boldness of his touch matching the growing intensity between them. He tugged at San’s shirt, eager to feel more of him, to bridge the gap that had always existed but now seemed irrelevant.

San let out a breathless laugh against Wooyoung’s lips. “Slow down,” he muttered, though his own hands were far from gentle as they explored more of Wooyoung’s body.

But Wooyoung shook his head, a fire in his eyes. “I can’t,” he admitted, his voice a mix of urgency and vulnerability.

San swallowed, his chest tightening. They were both ready to step into the unknown together. The heat between them was unbearable, each touch a spark that set them both alight.

San’s mind raced as he let his hands slide lower, making Wooyoung gasp slightly. He broke the kiss briefly to whisper, “If you want this…we can take it slow, Woo. But I need you to tell me.”

Wooyoung’s breath was erratic, his lips swollen from their kisses. “I want it.” he breathed out.

The words hit San like a wave, crashing over him with an intensity he didn’t expect. His pulse quickened, his body burning with desire.

Wooyoung barely had a second to react before San pushed him back, their bodies pressing flush against each other as they tumbled onto the mattress. A quiet gasp left his lips as he landed beneath San, but it quickly melted into a breathless chuckle when San propped himself up on his elbows, hovering over him.

He looked so dominant and just plain hot, Wooyoung decided.
The heat between them was undeniable now. The hard evidence of their want pressed against each other, sending shivers through both of them.

San blushed, which was rare. He was usually confident, composed, but Wooyoung always had a way of getting past his walls. Seeing San like this, cheeks dusted pink, lips slightly swollen from their kisses - Wooyoung thought he had never looked more beautiful. “Cute,” he murmured, his voice teasing but soft.

San scoffed, gripping his waist, pinning him down harder beneath him. “You think so?” he whispered, his deep voice sending a thrill through Wooyoung’s spine.

Wooyoung bit his lip, eyes flickering between San’s and the way his broad shoulders caged him in. “Mhm.”

San didn’t let him say more. His fingers traced along Wooyoung’s ribs, feeling the warmth of his bare skin. 

Wooyoung sighed against his lips, arching slightly as San’s touch wandered, palms pressing against his stomach before trailing up his sides. He wasn’t still either. His fingers dipped beneath the waistband of San’s sweatpants, teasing the skin there and tracing the outline of his hard cock that was pressed against his boxers, building a damp spot.

San groaned softly, pulling away just enough to look into Wooyoung’s eyes. Dark. Wanting.
“Wooyoung…” his voice was almost a whisper, his forehead resting against his.

Wooyoung smiled, thumb brushing against San’s jaw. “I know.”

“You've got me rock-hard," San whispered, gesturing down to his tight boxers show him his hard-on, as if it wasn’t obvious. He grabbed his cock through his briefs and waggled it at Wooyoung accusingly

“Pabo” Wooyoung laughed. “What you complaining about, Sannie? So I've given you a hard-on; life's a bitch." He said confidently, though his own cock was pulsing and his heart was hammering so hard that he could barely speak.

San smiled and sniffed, breathing in the smell of his fresh sweat mixing with his cologne. "Fucking nice, Woo." he muttered. Wooyoung grinned

And just like that, San’s hand trailed lower, moving with purpose now, teasing over Wooyoung’s hipbones, his fingers slipping just beneath the waistband of his sweatpants as well. His eyes were dark with desire, but also something softer. A silent question.

Wooyoung exhaled, his fingers curling around the hem of San’s shirt. “Don’t stop,” he murmured.

San didn’t. He leaned in again, sucking on the side of his neck, just enough to not leave a mark and finally pulled down the pants.

Wooyoung’s own hands slid up San’s toned back, nails grazing lightly over the muscle, making him shudder.

The tension between them built with every touch, every shift of their bodies. Wooyoung’s breath stuttered as San’s hips pressed against his, their need for each other becoming impossible to ignore.

“San…” Wooyoung’s voice wavered, his hands gripping the fabric of San’s shirt like he needed something to hold onto.

San pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against Wooyoung’s as he tried to steady his breath. His dimples showed as he gave Wooyoung a small, almost shy smile.
“We really shouldn’t be doing this here” he murmured.

Wooyoung chuckled, though his heart was racing. “Where else? In the living room?”

San huffed a laugh, dropping his head against Wooyoung’s shoulder, his body shaking slightly from how much he was holding back. “We’re really doing this, huh?” he whispered, fingers still grazing along Wooyoung’s skin, sending shivers through him.

Wooyoung tilted his head, pressing a kiss to San’s jaw. “Yeah,” he whispered against his skin, lips curving into a knowing smile.

And with that, San finally pulled off his shirt, letting it drop onto the floor, showing off his toned body, making Wooyoung swoon.

The night was theirs. And there was no going back.

San didn’t even realize how much more they had shed until the cool air hit his skin, but by then, it didn’t matter.

San didn’t think. He just felt. Soon, there was no piece of clothing left between them. Their shirts, pants and underwear dropped carelessly onto the floor next to the bed.
He the warmth of Wooyoung’s body, his hardness against his. It ignited something deep inside him.

Nothing else mattered right now.

Not the dorm. Not the risk of someone walking in. Not the fact that they had tiptoed around this for years.

Right now, it was just them.

San groaned softly as Wooyoung’s hands slid down his back. A silent plea. A desperate need to feel more.

He understood. He felt it too. His cock was already dripping thin threads of precum onto Wooyoung’s thighs.

“Woo...we..don’t have any..you know. Anything.”

Wooyoung shivered at his shy words. He let his head fall back slightly, exhaling a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

San took a moment to look at him.

His flushed cheeks, the way his chest rose and fell, the soft glow of the dim bedroom light casting shadows across his skin.

Beautiful.

Wooyoung caught his gaze and raised an eyebrow. “What?” he asked, breathless.

San swallowed. “Nothing,” he whispered. “Just… you.”

Wooyoung’s smirk faltered, replaced with something softer. Something more real.

“We don’t need anything. Let’s just use our hands today..” he whispered against San’s wet lips, who let out a growl in response.

They lost themselves in it.

The feeling. The heat. The moment.

San agreed almost instantly. With his right hand he reached down and started to stroke Wooyoung’s cock gently. 

Wooyoung let his head fall back onto the pillow, eyes half-lidded as he watched San hover above him, his skin flushed, lips swollen from their kisses. He looked stunning.
“Aah..San…” Wooyoung whispered and reached down to touch him as well.

San felt heavy and hot in his hand. He hummed as he felt the slim fingers wrap around him.

“Do you like that?”

“Yeah...” San half-whispered. “Feels amazing.”

They kept stroking eachother, picking up speed. Clear beads of precum kept dripping down their lenghts, making it slick and easy to move. It was quite a lot. An evidence of how turned on they were.

“God..you’re so wet, Woo.”

San dipped down, lips ghosting over Wooyoung’s jaw before trailing lower, leaving slow, heated kisses along his neck. He let out a moan, not holding back at all.

Wooyoung blushed a little.
“You’re one to talk.” he whispered breathlessly. He glanced at San’s arms, the way his biceps flexed with each move.

“Yea, you make me like this.” San chuckled.

They shifted, bodies pressing closer, and San let out a quiet groan as Wooyoung’s hips rolled against his, their hands still between them, jerking eachother off. The sensation sent a shiver through both of them, their movements instinctive now.

“S..San fuck!~”

They changed the way they were pumping their cocks now, so that when they were going up and down their shafts, they didn't touch the heads at all, playing a little, keeping themselves on the edge. The over-excitement of laying together and getting each other off was incredible.

They weren’t thinking.

They weren’t hesitating.

And they sure as hell weren’t stopping.

Even if someone walked in -

They were too far gone. Too lost in each other to care.

The room was filled with ragged breaths, moans, quiet gasps, and the friction of skin against skin. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, but neither of them wanted it to end.

San buried his face in Wooyoung’s neck, his breath warm and shaky. “Your hand feels so good,” he murmured against his skin, his voice deeper, rougher.

“Yes..it aah..feels great. ” Wooyoung moaned. He could tell San enjoyed his stroking, from his solid erection and heavy breathing and it really turned him on to no end.

“Mhm..i want to see you cum..fuck, look into your beautiful eyes during your orgasm.”

San said softly, tightening his hand a little, since Wooyoung sounded like he was about to blow his load soon. He had found the right way to grip Wooyoung’s cock, giving it a squeeze, earning a whimper from him. It sent a warmth pooling through his entire body, straight down to his lower parts.

Wooyoung’s breathing was uneven, he could feel the contractions of San’s cock and of his own. They were so so close.

Their hands moved in sync, faster, teasing, pushing each other to the edge now. San exhaled sharply against Wooyoung’s skin, his control slipping.

“I-I’m going to cum...you're gonna make me cum so hard, jagiya..”

Wooyoung bit his lip, a shiver running down his spine at San’s heated words. He tugged him even closer, pressing their bodies flush together. “Then don’t stop. I'm so fucking close too.” he whispered.

San didn’t.

They moved together, hands desperate to memorize every inch. The heat between them only grew, until finally - 
A shared gasp. A sharp inhale.
Wooyoung let out a high pitched moan as he came, unintentionally but it was too intense for him to care about the volume. He could feel the warmth of his release spraying out of his cock, which felt incredible.

San groaned, looking him deeply into the eyes during their climax, shooting pearlescent white ropes of thick cum between them, mixing it with Wooyoung’s.

Wooyoung felt his heart stop. San’s eyes were shiny, so innocent and full of love.

“My jagi..” San grinned. Wooyoung ruffled his face, flustered. 

They grabbed the toilet paper on San’s nightstand to clean themselves and wipe away the cum.

Then silence, except for their heavy, uneven breaths.

San collapsed against Wooyoung, his chest rising and falling rapidly, heart hammering in sync with Wooyoung’s. Neither of them spoke at first, too lost in the aftershocks, in the feeling of finally having each other.

San turned his head, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to Wooyoung’s shoulder.

Wooyoung let out a breathy chuckle, his fingers lazily tracing patterns against San’s back.
“…We should’ve done that sooner,” he murmured, his voice still a little dazed.

San smirked, lifting his head slightly to meet
Wooyoung’s gaze. “Yeah?” he teased, brushing his nose cutely against Wooyoung’s. Wooyoung grinned, eyes shining, before pulling San back into another slow, deep kiss - this time, just savoring the moment.

San’s dimples showed as he smiled down at the guy who had stolen his heart, his hands resting on his waist, feeling the warmth radiating between them. The tension between them was still electric, but now there was something softer beneath it, something real.

They had spent so long dancing around their feelings, brushing up against the possibility of this without ever daring to step into it fully. But now, there was no turning back.

San let his fingers brush over Wooyoung’s jaw, his touch featherlight, barely there. He watched as Wooyoung shivered under his fingertips, his dark eyes locked onto San’s like he was memorizing him.

The moment stretched between them, unspoken words filling the air.

Wooyoung was the first to break the silence, his voice quieter than usual. “You’re looking at me like that again,” he murmured, a small smirk playing on his lips.

San raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

Wooyoung’s smirk softened into something more shy, more intimate. “Like I’m the only thing in the world right now.”

San didn’t even try to deny it.

“Because you are. I love you, jagi.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected the honesty, the rawness of those words. But he didn’t shy away from it, didn’t joke his way out like he might have in the past. Instead, he let himself feel it.

San leaned down, pressing his forehead against Wooyoung’s. Their noses brushed, their lips just a breath apart. His hands stayed firm on Wooyoung’s waist, grounding him in the moment.

He wanted to savor this.

Not rush it. Not let it slip away too quickly.

Wooyoung exhaled, his hands sliding up San’s arms, feeling the strength beneath his fingertips. He traced slow, lazy patterns over his skin, his touch lingering.

San tilted his head, brushing his lips over Wooyoung’s in the softest kiss. It wasn’t hurried or desperate. It was gentle, deep, filled with everything they hadn’t said out loud before.

Wooyoung responded immediately, pressing into San, his fingers tangling in his hair, before wandering down to his shoulders. San let his lips wander, tracing a path down Wooyoung’s jaw, then to the soft skin just below his ear.

Wooyoung gasped softly, his grip tightening on San’s strong shoulders. “San…”

San smiled against his skin. “Hmm?”

Wooyoung pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze again. His cheeks were flushed, but there was a quiet confidence in his eyes.

“I want to stay like this,” he whispered. “Just… us. Just feeling this.”

San’s heart swelled at the words.

He knew exactly what Wooyoung meant.

This wasn’t about rushing anywhere. This wasn’t about chasing something physical just because they could. This was about them. About holding onto each other in a way they had never been able to before.

So instead of speaking, San just nodded, pressing another lingering kiss to Wooyoung’s lips before pulling him close, wrapping his arms securely around him.

Wooyoung melted into his embrace, resting his head against San’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

It was enough.

More than enough.

Suddenly, a loud knock on the door made them both freeze.

“Hey,” came a teasing voice from outside. “Are you two making out in there?”

San and Wooyoung paused, lips barely parted, breath still warm against each other’s skin.

Then they started laughing. San buried his face in Wooyoung’s shoulder, his body shaking with quiet chuckles, while Wooyoung, always the bold one, grinned mischievously. Without missing a beat, he called back loudly:

“Yeah! And what about it? You jealous?”

There was silence for a second.

“YAH!” The voice outside cracked, followed by dramatic gagging sounds. “I didn’t actually need confirmation!”

San was laughing harder now, his arms still firmly wrapped around Wooyoung. “You really had to say that?” he murmured against Wooyoung’s shoulder, his deep voice laced with amusement.

Wooyoung tilted his head up, eyes twinkling. “What? If they’re gonna ask, they might as well get an honest answer.”

Another knock. More persistent this time.

“Seriously, just open the door before I tell the others you two are -”

San sighed dramatically, reluctantly pulling away from Wooyoung. “I swear, they have the worst timing.” he quickly put his boxers on.

Wooyoung smirked, ruffling his hair. “Well, we weren’t exactly being quiet.”

San shot him a playful glare before moving to the door, barely cracking it open.

Mingi stood there, arms crossed, an eyebrow raised suspiciously. “So…?”

San rolled his eyes. “What do you want, Mingi?”

“I was just checking if you both were alive. But judging by your faces, I’d say you’re doing just fine.” Mingi smirked, eyeing the two of them before casually peering into the room, where Wooyoung still lay under the blanket naked. “And judging by the state of things, I’d say I should’ve knocked sooner.”

San groaned, blocking his view. “Okay, goodnight, Mingi.”

Mingi grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Goodnight, lovebirds.” And with that, he strolled away, way too satisfied with his interruption.

San shut the door and sighed, turning back to Wooyoung, who was grinning like he’d just won something.

“Well,” Wooyoung said, crossing his arms. “That could’ve been worse.”

San raised a brow. “Oh? And how exactly?”

Wooyoung shrugged, stepping closer again, his fingers playfully tracing circles on San’s chest. “They could’ve walked in. Or-”

San cut him off with a quick kiss, making Wooyoung momentarily lose his train of thought.

“Enough,” San murmured, smirking against his lips.

Wooyoung blinked up at him. “That’s not fair.”

San kissed him again, slower this time. “Mm. I know.”

Their laughter eventually faded into whispers, and as the rest of the dorm settled for the night, San and Wooyoung stayed close, finally allowing themselves to be exactly where they wanted to be.

Together.

The next morning, the dorm was buzzing with energy as the members gathered in the living room. Breakfast was half-eaten, music played softly in the background, and everyone was lazily scrolling on their phones or chatting.

San and Wooyoung sat close, like they always did, but this time, something was different. The air between them felt lighter, their touches more natural, like they weren’t holding back at all anymore.

Yeosang, always the observant one, narrowed his eyes at them. “You two seem…different.”

Hongjoong looked up from his coffee. “Yeah. Something happen?”

San felt Wooyoung tense slightly beside him, but instead of deflecting with a joke, Wooyoung just turned to him, his expression soft.

A silent question passed between them. Do we tell them?

San, without hesitation, laced his fingers through Wooyoung’s, squeezing gently. The warmth of his touch sent a small shiver through Wooyoung, but instead of pulling away, he smiled.

That was all the answer the others needed.

Seonghwa was the first to react, a small knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “Finally,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

Mingi gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Wait. Is this official?”

Wooyoung, always the performer, leaned dramatically into San’s side, resting his head on his shoulder. “Mingi,” he said in a mock-sweet voice. “Would I be sitting here like this if it wasn’t?”

Mingi blinked. “I mean… yes, actually. You guys have been glued together for years.”

Laughter erupted around the room, but Yunho just smiled, his tone more genuine. “We’re happy for you.”

Wooyoung, who usually had a snarky reply for everything, paused. He looked around at the people who had been by their sides for so long. Their family.

It meant everything that they were accepted so easily.

He turned back to San, who was already looking at him with that soft, steady gaze, the one that made Wooyoung always feel like the only person in the world.

Feeling bold, Wooyoung reached up, cupping San’s cheek before pressing a gentle kiss to his dimples. It was sweet, fleeting, but full of emotion.

A chorus of reactions followed. Some cheers, some groans, and Jongho just covered his eyes. “I did not need to see that this early.”

San chuckled, his hand still holding Wooyoung’s. “You’re gonna have to get used to it.”

The others groaned in unison, but there was no real complaint. Just warmth, love, and a sense of home.

San and Wooyoung had always belonged to each other.

And now, finally, everyone knew.

“Actually...I don’t mind you stealing my hoodies,” Wooyoung admitted as he turned to San. Then, in a bolder move, he leaned in, voice just above a whisper against his ear. “But next time, you should ask for my heart, too.”

San’s eyes widened.

Then, all at once, he grinned, looking way too smug for someone who had been caught red-handed so often. “Oh?” he hummed, tilting his head. “So you’re saying I can have it?”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but laugh. “You already do, idiot.”

And when San pulled him into a tight hug, wearing his stolen hoodie again - Wooyoung decided that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.