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Yunho doesn’t like parties. Or rather, he does—but only when he spends them in a close circle of friends, not in the house of a wealthy classmate, where half the course is currently gathered.
Yet, here he is. Because San is here.
He doesn’t know when it started, but lately, his thoughts always return to San. Even when he’s not around. Even when Yunho tries to convince himself that it’s just friendship.
Yunho and San have known each other for years. They go to the same college, but their friendship didn’t form immediately.
San has always been the center of attention—the one who easily connects with people, laughs the loudest, and is the life of the party. He can strike up a conversation with anyone, become friends after just a few meetings, and smooth out any sharp edges with his charming dimpled smile.
Yunho, on the other hand, has always been calm, a little shy, and introverted. He doesn’t like being in the spotlight, but around San, that’s impossible. Because San always finds a way to pull him in.
They grew closer after a spontaneous trip out of town with their friends. San had caught a cold but, of course, pretended he was fine. He joked, hugged himself for warmth, and redirected attention to others. Yunho was the first to notice he was shivering and, without asking, threw his hoodie over him as they hiked up the mountain.
San froze for a moment, then smirked.
“Taking care of me, Jeong?”
“Someone has to,” Yunho replied simply.
San said nothing, suddenly blushing and turning away, but he didn’t take the hoodie off. And later, he never left Yunho’s side—helping him collect firewood, pulling him to sit next to him by the fire, and even stealing Mingi’s spot in his tent to sleep beside him.
Since then, something unspoken had lingered between them.
San often touched Yunho — a casual arm over his shoulders, a playful tug on his sleeve, leaning in too close during conversations. Sometimes, it felt like flirting, but Yunho brushed those thoughts away.
“San is like this with everyone,” he told himself. He tried to believe it.
But sometimes, in rare moments when their gazes held just a little too long, Yunho felt an overwhelming urge to reach out. To hold him, to kiss him, to claim him.
But, of course, he couldn’t. Just as he couldn’t stop watching him from afar. No one could forbid him from looking, right?
San, meanwhile, looked completely at ease — moving through the crowd, laughing, flirting. But Yunho could feel his gaze on him. As if San was testing his reaction. One moment, he’d be smiling at him from across the room, licking his lips; the next, he’d turn away and focus on someone else, ignoring him completely.
At some point, he was loudly arguing with Mingi by the drinks table, downing three shots in a row — then disappearing into the crowd.
Yunho sat on the couch, watching from afar, as if San were a distant light he could never reach.
He lazily stirred the remains of his soda, listening to the noise around him. The room was hot, filled with the scent of alcohol and laughter. The music pounded so loudly it resonated in his chest. He didn’t even know what time it was.
He shouldn’t have come.
He never liked parties. Especially ones with too many people, too many loud voices, and nowhere to just sit quietly. Since stepping into this house, he’d barely spoken to anyone, choosing instead to sulk on a smoke-scented couch away from the chaos. His friends were here too, but he had neither the energy nor the desire to join them. Yet, he was still here.
He must look pathetic.
But San had invited him. Well, technically, San had invited everyone, but for some reason, Yunho had taken it as a personal invitation.
And so, here he was. Sitting in a corner, watching the party and feeling out of place. The longer he watched, the more irritated he became with himself.
Why did he even come? This was pointless. San was having a great time without him. Like always.
Yunho sighed and glanced at his phone. Only an hour had passed.
He could just leave. Just stand up and walk out. No one would even notice—
“Yunho!”
Yunho looked up and saw Wooyoung heading straight for him, grinning way too smugly and clearly tipsy.
He was up to something. Yunho should’ve left earlier.
“Yunho,”— Wooyoung slurred, nearly tripping as he spilled his drink onto him, “Get up, big boy. You’ve been chosen!”
Before Yunho could react, Wooyoung was already tugging at his wrist, grinning like nothing good was coming.
“What?”
“Seven Minutes in Heaven,” Yeosang announced with amusement, appearing out of nowhere and pushing him toward the closet in the corner of the room.
Yunho blinked, trying to process those words. He glanced around — people were gathered in a circle, some laughing, others watching him with interest. Mingi raised his glass and smirked at him, playfully wishing him luck. Just another stupid party game, just another college party.
But for some reason, his stomach twisted.
“Isn’t this a game for kids?” he asked, annoyed, but they were already shoving him forward.
“Come on, are you scared?” Wooyoung teased.
“I’m not! I just…” Yunho started, but didn’t have time to come up with an excuse.
His friends pushed him toward the closet. It was bigger than he expected, cleared of any clutter. Yet, the stale air and confined space made his head throb. His heart began to race — not from excitement, but something else entirely.
“Wait! Who’s the second person?” he tried to ask, almost dreading the answer.
Wooyoung glanced at Mingi, the mastermind behind all of this. Mingi grinned and pointed directly at San.
“San, you owned me!”
Yunho froze.
San. Why him?
He turned slowly.
San stood nearby, leaning against the wall with one hand, looking straight at him. His eyes gleamed mischievously, lips curled into that familiar half-smile — the one that always made Yunho’s breath catch.
“Okay” San shrugged, walking toward him with that effortless confidence.
As their friends cheered and clapped, Yunho’s fingers went cold.
This was a terrible idea.
A very, very bad idea.
But before he could protest, before he could run, they were shoved inside together, and the door slammed shut.
Yunho blinked, adjusting to the darkness. Thin strips of light filtered through the cracks in the door, casting faint silhouettes on the walls. But that only made things worse.
Because he could see San. Standing too close, just a few steps away. The tight space made it feel even smaller, the air between them heavy.
And, of course, San could see him. Flushed, tense, fists clenched at his sides like a caught schoolboy.
Yunho inhaled carefully, catching the faint scent of something warm and familiar. San’s cologne? Or just… him?
Why was he so nervous? This was just San.
But then San shifted, and the fabric of his shirt barely brushed Yunho’s arm — a fleeting touch, yet it sent an electric jolt down his spine.
San leaned against the opposite wall, watching him with a slight challenge in his eyes.
“So? Are we just going to stand here for seven minutes in silence?”
Yunho swallowed hard.
And yet, he didn’t move.
“You wanna talk?”
“Definitely no” San seems to have a different mood. He laughs, his voice almost playful. “You know the rules of this game, don’t you? ”
Oh, Yunho knows them all too well. And something about the way San says it, the way he leans in closer, makes his heart beat far too fast.
Heat spreads through Yunho’s body. Even though there’s still some distance between them — limited by the small space of the closet — San stands too close.
“Are you nervous?” San asks teasingly.
“No,” Yunho replies quickly, averting his gaze, though his racing heart clearly thinks otherwise.
San tilts his head slightly, as if studying him. In the darkness, he seems even closer, even more tangible.
“Then why are you pressing yourself against the wall like you’re afraid of me?” San’s voice is quieter now, almost soothing.
Yunho swallows. He’s not afraid.
Not like that, at least.
“I just don’t get the point of this game,” he lied, crossing his arms. He needed to do something with his hands before he gave himself away.
San hummed, taking a small step forward.
“It’s just for fun. A chance to… do something you wouldn’t normally do.”
That didn’t help. At all.
Yunho felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck. He tried to focus on anything else — the dim lighting, the sound of muffled laughter outside, the way his own heartbeat pounded too loudly in his ears.
He didn’t know what San was thinking.
He never did.
San was unpredictable. He moved through life like a storm, sweeping people up with his energy, his charm. He made friends effortlessly, flirted shamelessly, and never seemed to hesitate.
Unlike Yunho.
And yet, right now, it felt like San was waiting for something.
Like he was giving Yunho a chance to do something first.
Yunho’s throat was dry.
“San—”
“Do you ever think about it?”
Yunho froze.
San’s voice was still soft, but there was something in it. Something that made Yunho’s stomach twist painfully.
He forced himself to meet his gaze.
“Think about what?”
San let out a small, almost amused breath. Then, as if making a decision, he stepped closer.
Close enough that Yunho could feel his warmth.
Close enough that he could smell the faint mix of alcohol and cologne on him.
Close enough that he knew — San was doing this on purpose.
But then San suddenly frowns, as if realizing something.
“We… We can just walk out of here and tell them all to fuck off, you know that, right?”
Yunho nods but doesn’t move.
He really could just say a word, knock, walk out… but for some reason, he doesn’t.
Does he want to leave?
Or does he, instead, want to lock this damn door from the inside and never let San out?
The thought strikes him suddenly, burning from the inside.
He wants… him.
And that scares him far more than the darkness around them.
Yunho opens his mouth to say something, but at that moment, San steps forward, closing the distance between them. Now they’re so close that Yunho can feel his warm breath against his cheek.
“You don’t mind if I…”
He doesn’t finish. He just slowly reaches for him. Yunho doesn’t pull away, even though everything inside him is on fire.
"It’s just a game," he tells himself. "It’s just a game."
But when San’s lips cautiously brush against his, Yunho stops thinking. The only thing he knows is that San is kissing him. Carefully, slowly, as if testing his reaction.
Yunho freezes — and then, to his own surprise, kisses him back.
San smiles against his lips. Yunho’s breath catches.
“We’re friends, San…”
San presses his lips together in frustration — then kisses him again, deeper this time, more certain. He’s clearly not interested in talking. His fingers slide gently over Yunho’s wrist, while his other hand carefully touches his neck.
Somewhere beyond the door, their friends are laughing and chatting. Somewhere, seconds are ticking away, bringing them closer to the moment the door will swing open.
But Yunho doesn’t think about that. He doesn’t understand what he’s doing. No — he does understand, but acknowledging it is too terrifying.
He kisses San back, responds to his touch, grabs onto his t-shirt like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded in reality.
San moves slowly, savoring each moment, but there’s something playful in it. Like he already knew this would happen—and was just waiting for Yunho to give in.
"Friends don’t do this," Yunho thinks.
But when San leans in closer and bites his lower lip, that thought disappears.
“Do you like it?” San whispers, his voice so confident and sweet.
He pulls back slightly, his eyes gleaming in the darkness.
“Hey. Are you going to say something?”
Yunho swallows.
In the dim light, San looks almost unreal.
The dim light filtering through the cracks in the door traces his face with soft highlights, accentuating the sharp line of his cheekbone, the two small moles on his cheek, the curve of his lips, the tousled dark curls still messy from dancing.
Yunho has never looked at him this closely.
He notices the tiniest details—how his lashes cast shadows on his skin, how the corners of his lips twitch in a faint smirk, how his eyes gleam with boldness, excitement… something else.
“You… You’re really beautiful.”
And it’s true. San is beautiful. But not just that.
He’s mesmerizing. Dangerous. Intoxicating.
San stills.
Yunho hears him hold his breath, and in the dim light, he catches a flicker of something on his face — something like surprise. Maybe, for a second, he even loses his confidence. But he quickly pulls himself together.
“Look who’s talking.” San smirks, but his voice is softer than usual. “But I like hearing it from you.”
He kisses him again, and Yunho gets lost in it. He forgets about time, about their friends behind the door, about what will happen when this is over.
San’s lips are soft, warm, but there’s impatience in them, a hidden hunger he doesn’t bother to restrain. He kisses like he knows he’s already won, like he knows Yunho won’t push him away.
And Yunho doesn’t.
Instead, he tightens his fingers around San’s wrist — not to pull away, but to ground himself in a reality that has suddenly shrunk to nothing but lips, breath, and burning touches.
San lingers, as if testing Yunho’s limits, but in the next moment, he deepens the kiss. His tongue glides along Yunho’s lips, demanding, insistent. Yunho doesn’t even realize when exactly he surrenders — but he does. His lips part, his whole body tightens at the sensation, at the heat, at the closeness that both overwhelms and feels so right.
Yunho’s fingers find the hem of San’s shirt, skimming over the bare skin of his waist, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. San shudders but doesn’t pull away. He responds, leans into it — and then, as if trying to take control back, he bites Yunho’s lips, pulling him even closer.
Their breath mingles, the world outside the door fades into the distance.
It’s just them. Just this moment. Just the fire igniting between them.
San presses in closer, and Yunho feels their bodies meet — hot, tense, desperate for more. The kiss turns hungry, as if they’ve both finally allowed themselves to do what they’ve wanted for so long.
Yunho’s fingers slide up San’s back, lifting the fabric of his shirt, then bury into his hair, pulling slightly, making San tip his head back. A shiver runs down Yunho’s spine as he leans in, trailing heated kisses along San’s sharp jawline, down to his neck, pressing deeper, needing more.
Yunho can’t think.
His thoughts unravel, leaving only this — San’s taste, his warmth, his breath, this relentless, burning heat.
Somewhere outside, voices and laughter echo in the distance.
But it doesn’t matter.
Nothing does.
Except this.
Except San.
His lips, his hands, his body — so close, so perfectly right against him.
But suddenly — too soon — the door swings open.
“Oh, oh, oh,” Wooyoung's voice rings out, filled more with delight than surprise. “Time’s up, lovebirds!”
A camera shutter clicks, and reality slams back into Yunho all at once.
Cold air burns his skin as he pulls away from San — almost stumbles, barely keeping his balance. His breath is ragged, his heart pounds in his ears.
God.
What did they just do?
Voices break through the noise in his head, but he can’t focus on any of them. All he can think about is the taste of San on his lips, the heat of his body, the way his hands felt—
“I knew it!” Wooyoung nearly jumps in excitement, clapping his hands together. “Judging by Yunho’s face, I’d say things got pretty heated, huh?” He laughs, and Mingi lets out a dramatic gasp, covering his mouth in mock shock.
Yunho feels exposed, even though he’s still fully dressed.
San, on the other hand, looks way too composed, as if none of this fazes him at all.
“You two really…?” Mingi doesn’t finish the question, but his face says it all — he’s waiting for confirmation.
Yunho opens his mouth, but the words die in his throat.
What can he even say?
That it was just a game? But then why is he still shaking from San’s closeness?
Why does he want so badly to drag him back into that closet and slam the door shut?
He doesn’t know what to do with himself. And when he glances at San, he catches the faintest frown on his face.
San studies him for a long, long moment—
And then, suddenly, he looks away.
“Oh, come on,” San sighs dramatically, running a hand through his messy hair, as if they hadn't just been caught sharing the most intense kiss of his life. “What, you’ve never kissed anyone in this stupid game before?”
Yunho snaps his head toward him.
So that’s how he’s playing it?
Just a game? Just a kiss?
Something inside Yunho tightens unpleasantly, but he’s too stunned to untangle his feelings.
“Not like that,” Wooyoung squints, shaking his head. “That was definitely more than just a kiss.”
San smirks. And then — before anyone can say anything else — he takes a step back, putting distance between them.
“Whatever,” he adjusts his shirt, glancing at their friends with that same confident gleam in his eyes that always drives Yunho insane. “I guess it’s someone else’s turn now.”
And just like that, it’s over.
No explanations. No looks. No words to make sense of what just happened.
Yunho feels like he’s been thrown into freezing water. But the worst part? He’s not sure if he even wants to swim back to shore.
The cold night air slaps against his face the moment he steps onto the balcony. He gulps in a breath, trying to steady himself, but it’s like his lungs won’t fill properly.
He ran. What else was he supposed to do?
He feels like such an idiot. Why? Why didn't he leave back then?
Dragging a hand down his face, he grips the railing, lowering his head.
What the hell is wrong with him?
Why is he reacting like this? Why is his heart still racing? Why does his entire body burn?
San shouldn’t have kissed him like that. So confidently, so hungrily.
Why did he do it?
Yunho hears the balcony door creak open behind him but doesn’t turn around.
He knows who it is.
He hears the cautious footsteps, recognizes the scent.
— Yunho… — San’s voice is quiet, almost hesitant.
Yunho slowly inhales.
“Pull yourself together,” he tells himself.
After all, it’s not San’s fault that he doesn’t love him back.
Yunho has no right to be mad.
It was just a game. A stupid, meaningless game.
So what if it ended with a broken heart?
“I don’t want to talk,” he snaps, turning sharply to leave.
But then — San grabs his wrist.
"Wait! Why?”
“Just let me go, San,” Yunho says tiredly. “It was just a game, right”
“Wait, wait. Isn't it because of my words? I saw you panic. I was just trying to… Why did you run? Let's talk.”
Yunho stays silent. Doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t want to see San’s face. Not now.
He needs to leave. He won’t humiliate himself even more in front of him.
Tomorrow will be easier. Tomorrow, he’ll just shove it down, lock it up inside. He’ll pretend nothing happened — like his heart isn’t ripping apart at the mere mention of San.
He’s used to it.
But right now — he’s angry.
Angry enough to grind his teeth, to feel his rage simmer in his chest.
At himself.
At their stupid friends.
At this dumb, childish game.
At San.
“Come on, Yunho!” San persists. “Talk to me! Why are you acting like that after all?”
Something inside snaps.
Yunho spins around abruptly, almost pushing him back.
“Oh, fuck you, Choi San!”
San flinches. His eyes widen.
“Did you really think you could just kiss me, drive me insane, and then come here to talk, just to make yourself feel better, and that would be enough?! You are so selfish!”
His voice trembles.
He is furious.
He is shattered.
He is broken.
San opens his mouth, but then shuts it again. For the first time, he doesn’t know what to say.
“You…” he shakes his head, clenching his fists. “You just shattered this moment into pieces. You can’t do that, San!” His voice is filled with pain, anger, disappointment. “You can’t kiss me like I matter to you and then act like it meant nothing!”
San breathes heavily, his chest rising rapidly, unevenly. Yunho can feel his tense breath on his skin.
But he is too angry to pay attention.
“Well?!” His voice is loud, strained, filled with so much rage he barely recognizes himself. “Talk to me, since you wanted it so badly!”
“Speak. Crush me completely.”
San stays silent.
He opens his mouth. Closes it. Hesitates.
And then — he acts.
Grabbing Yunho by the collar, he crashes their lips together. Again.
The kiss is hot, fierce, desperate. San doesn’t ask, doesn’t wait, doesn’t hesitate.
Yunho is stunned.
His body refuses to obey.
San’s lips are hot, insistent. The taste is familiar and yet new. Yunho drowns in the touch, in the heat, in this endless finally.
But reality crashes in too fast.
He pushes him away, stumbling back as if burned.
“No…”
“Yes, Yunho!” San’s voice breaks into a shout, tears glistening on his cheeks, but he doesn’t hold back. “I should be the one who’s angry!”
Yunho doesn’t move. Why is San even crying? Why is he angry? Why…
“You never noticed me!” San spreads his arms, angrily wiping his tears away like he hates his own weakness. “I clung to you, I watched you, I reached for you, and you… you never even saw it! And when everyone else did, when the door opened… you just pushed me away! Like I… like I was something disgusting! Like kissing me was so repulsive… And which of us two is selfish?”
Yunho’s heart skips a beat.
No…
No.
That can’t be true.
“I was scared,” San’s voice cracks. “Scared that if I said or did something wrong, I would lose you. And you… you just kept pushing me away. All that "we’re just friends", "we’re just friends", right?!”
San laughs, but there’s nothing happy in it.
— Fuck you and your friendship!
Yunho stares at him, but he doesn’t see the San he’s used to.
Not the one who always laughs, who nudges his shoulder, who jokes, flirts, touches so lightly it could be passed off as friendship.
This San is broken. Furious.
His eyes are red, wet, his lips still trembling—from the kiss or from anger.
Yunho can’t look away.
"How did it come to this?" he suddenly thinks. The realization knocks the air out of his lungs.
How did this stupid game, this accidental kiss — lead them here?
He doesn’t know what to say.
Doesn’t know what to feel.
“You…” his voice shakes. “This whole time…?”
“Yes, Yunho!” San throws his hands up. “This whole damn time! Since the moment you gave me your stupid hoodie on that trip, since you were the only one who cared about me, who saw the real me…”
Yunho clenches his jaw. He doesn’t know what to say.
“And you know what the worst part is?” San steps closer, his eyes burning with anger, desperation, hurt. “I can’t even be properly mad at you because you didn’t actually do anything wrong!”
Yunho opens his mouth, but San is already continuing:
“It’s my fault. Mine. I decided that you were mine. I thought… I thought that I just needed to wait, just hint, just… stay close, and you’d see! You’d understand!” He almost screams, then suddenly stops, breathing heavily.
“San…” Yunho steps forward, but San steps back, shaking his head.
“No. Don’t.” San wipes his tears, scoffing. “Don’t pity me.”
“I’m not going to.” Yunho swallows the lump in his throat. “Fuck. I’m an idiot. Just... Stop crying.”
San suddenly falls silent. Looks at him as if he expected a different reaction, different words. His lips tremble, his shoulders rise with unsteady breaths.
“You know me, I’m not someone who understands feelings well, let alone expresses them. I never thought someone like you could fall for someone… like... me.”
San’s mouth parts in shock, but Yunho gently stops him, taking his hand.
“No, wait. Let me talk now.” Yunho takes a deep breath, feeling his heart pound, drowning out all thoughts. San watches him, still breathing heavily, still tense with anticipation, as if afraid of hearing something that will finally break him completely.
Yunho squeezes his hand, feeling how warm it is, how alive.
“San, you… you were the closest person to me, but I was too blind to see beyond that. I told myself that you were just like this — open, bright, that you acted this way with everyone. But… damn.” He laughs nervously, shaking his head. “I was always there. I always only saw you.”
San sniffles but doesn’t pull away. His fingers tighten around Yunho’s, as if afraid he’ll push him away again.
“I thought that if I didn’t acknowledge it, I could control it. That I wouldn’t lose you.” He steps forward this time, intentionally. “I was scared to admit it even to myself. Scared that if I said it out loud, I wouldn’t be able to let you go.”
He gently cups his cheek, and San doesn’t move away. He just inhales deeper, his lips trembling slightly.
Yunho looks directly into his eyes, and this time, there’s no doubt in them.
“And you know what?” He smirks, leaning in just enough for their faces to be close. “I really don’t want to let you go. Hell, I’m probably even more of an idiot than you thought.”
San blinks, his lips parting, but words don’t come. In his gaze, there’s everything at once. Anger. Pain. Relief.
“Then don’t,” he whispers.
Yunho hears the hope in his voice, and he stops thinking. He just pulls him in.
San freezes for only a second before clutching at him, his fingers digging into his shirt like he’s afraid this is another mistake, another cruel joke of fate.
San suddenly laughs.
“God, we just needed to talk.” He pulls back just enough to look at him, pressing their foreheads together, smiling. “And we, as always, started with the hardest part.”
Yunho chuckles, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he leans in closer, his fingers trembling as they grip San’s shoulders, then his face. Large, warm hands caress his cheeks, bury into his hair, hold him tight like they want to remember every second.
San catches his gaze, full of some new, almost overwhelming happiness, and kisses him again.
This time, not like before. This time, for real.
Deeply. Warmly. Consciously.
Yunho kisses him over and over until he hears San whisper his name hoarsely between breaths.
“I...” San trails off, resting his forehead on Yunho’s shoulder, smiling.
A real, exhausted, incredibly happy smile.
Yunho exhales shakily, hugging him tighter, burying his face in his hair.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice warm, quiet, filled with tenderness. “Me too.”
Then, after a second of silence, he pulls back slightly and chuckles:
“Also… we have an audience.”
San’s eyes snap open. He frowns in confusion and turns around.
Behind the massive panoramic window, across the entire glass, their friends are pressed together, barely containing their laughter and cheering.
Wooyoung waves, Yeosang claps, Mingi wipes away drunken tears, and Jongho looks like he deeply regrets witnessing this.
San bursts out laughing. Loud, open, free of all past doubts. He laughs like the weight in his chest has finally lifted, like all the pain and resentment have melted away in this moment.
Yunho can’t take his eyes off him. There he is — real, radiant, his. Just as he was always meant to be.
And finally, Yunho feels truly alive.