Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

I CAN'T REMEMBER ANYTHING BEFORE YOU

September 2021

“Your turn,” Wooyoung said, steering San to stand in front of the cardboard boxes packed full with their stuff. 

San tried to push his heels against the wooden panels to hold back, but Wooyoung won by pinching his sides, which had San squirming in his hold. 

“I know, babe,” Wooyoung sighed, “I too wish we wouldn’t have to do it, but unfortunately it’s too early to wish for Santa’s elves to do that for us.” 

Wooyoung didn’t have to look at San to know that his boyfriend was pouting right now. He heard it in his voice, when San said, “Should we wait for December, then?”

“San-ah, I’m not living like that for three more months,” Wooyoung laughed at him. 

San pushed one of the boxes with his foot in an act of pure resignation. In all fairness, he knew Wooyoung was right, but no force existed on this earth that could turn him any more enthusiastic about the physical work that came with moving in. The boxes were scattered all over their kitchen, creating a chaotic labyrinth that made the space look like a tiny, dusty warehouse. It smelled like it, too.

Wooyoung was overwhelmed just by looking at the raw, cluttered state of everything, and he couldn’t wait to see their kitchen in its full glory - restored to the pristine state they’d seen it in while they were house-hunting. 

Which is exactly why he was dooming his boyfriend to the grueling task of unpacking. Wooyoung felt very proud of himself for coming up with such a brilliant plan. If he didn’t want to do something, he knew he could just ask San to do it instead. 

San might huff and grunt in defeat, acting all reluctant, but the truth was there was nothing San wouldn’t do for him. 

San worked in simple ways - he might act grumpy and put up a front now, but Wooyoung knew that cuddles after and a sweet treat would instantly erase the scowl from his face.

San was almost like a house kitty trapped in a panther’s body. He might look intimidating on the outside, all broad shoulders and sharp jawline, but he would - if only his anatomy would allow him to, though don’t worry, they’re working on that - purr for Wooyoung any time, as long as his boyfriend gave him enough attention and some belly rubs.   

By no means was Wooyoung overusing the privilege of having a whipped himbo at his fingertips. He used it moderately, always making sure to reward San properly. 

They both valued transparency and open communication in their relationship, so it was natural for them to think highly of words of affirmation as one of the most essential love languages. On their ranking, it took a glorious place right behind physical touch, which was their all-time favorite way of showing love wordlessly. Which was exactly why Wooyoung was now rubbing San’s shoulders, half absentmindedly, because he was more than used to showing his boyfriend love every single breathing second. 

“There’s not a lot to do,” Wooyoung blatantly lied in a light, sing-song voice. 

San groaned in answer, unconvinced.

“Okay, there is a lot to do, but!” Wooyoung hyped him up, moving to stand directly in front of San to block the mess from view. He cupped his face and tipped his head to the side, pointing him in the direction of the only countertop that wasn’t cluttered with boxes. 

San at first didn’t look that way, his eyes still not leaving Wooyoung’s face, as if that was the only view that mattered. 

Wooyoung chirped, “The rice cooker is unpacked already! One thing to unpack down.” 

They'd bought it together the same day they'd signed the rent agreement. It was a purchase made on a whim, not entirely thought through. They’d spent more than they should have on a fancy model, making a dent in their budget that wasn’t exactly large to begin with. But money didn’t really matter right now. Maybe it wasn’t the best mindset and would perhaps have them regretting it in the near future, but life was too short to worry about such trivial things. Or so they said. Or was it live laugh love? Wooyoung didn’t really care if those golden thoughts applied to reckless financial decisions. They could simply survive on the pure endorphins from the fact that they finally could live together. 

That, and an unhealthy amount of cup ramen. 

“You got this, baby.” Wooyoung kissed the tip of his nose briefly. 

He giggled at San’s reaction when he pulled away - San put on his best pleading look, all big, glossy eyes looking up at Wooyoung through his lashes. His hands had already found their way to Wooyoung’s hips, and he pulled his boyfriend closer into his space.

“I don't wanna,” San whined in that sulky tone of his that always, without fail, made Wooyoung succumb. 

So, the battle was unfair. Wooyoung might be able to control what San was doing, but San could also melt his heart with the endearing acting that reminded Wooyoung of Puss in Boots’ famous pleading eyes. Just another argument as to why San was actually just a harmless house kitten.   

His pouty lips left Wooyoung no choice but to lean in for a sweet, lasting kiss. He let go of San’s face in favor of holding him by his nape to pull him even closer. San responded almost right away, his hands sneaking to the small of Wooyoung’s back, roughly pulling him in with a harsh grip that prompted a gasp from Wooyoung that died between their slotted lips. 

Maybe San could be a panther after all. 

Wooyoung fitted right in his hold, pressing their bodies flush together and tilting his head to turn their kiss more heated, fervent. The boxes were long forgotten. His thoughts were entirely consumed by how good and cared for he felt in San’s hold - how hot, sinful, and just right his lips and tongue felt. 

Until a phone buzz interrupted them. Wooyoung ignored it at first, tangling his fingers into San’s hair and tugging at the strands. San hummed with content against his lips, his mouth falling open wider, which Wooyoung took as an immediate invitation. 

But the phone ringing was a little too distracting and hard to ignore when it was pocketed right in the back of Wooyoung’s pants, vibrating against his skin. He grunted, irritated, but continued to make out with San, desperate to keep the moment going.

Until San pulled away, resisting Wooyoung who tried to chase his lips. He whispered in a rough, hazy voice, “Young-ah, pick up.” He quickly leaned in to kiss him once again, unable to hold himself back despite his own words, which resulted with Wooyoung grinning at him. “Maybe it’s something important.”

“It better be,” Wooyoung huffed before grabbing his phone, sparing only a quick glance to check the caller ID before picking up. “Hojongie, I swear on my mother’s stainless-steel pans, you better have a good reason to be calling right now or else I’m laying my hands on you.”

Wooyoung held the phone with one hand, while the other wandered possessively across San’s chest. San watched him intently, a little breathless from the kissing, his lips slightly swollen and red. 

“Woah, that sounds way too homoerotic, even for you,” Jongho huffed on the other end. “Does San know you’re flirting with me?” 

“What do you mean 'even for me'?” Wooyoung shrieked. “Of course San knows!”

San raised an eyebrow at him in curiosity, having probably missed the earlier part of the call. 

Wooyoung realized his mistake, quickly adding, “Wait. No! Ew, no, I’m not flirting with you. Wait, let me put you on speaker.” He tapped the device and settled himself back in San’s arms, turning his back to him so he could lean against his chest. San wrapped his arms around him securely.

“Hi Jongho,” San greeted the speaker. 

“Hyung, please tell your boyfriend to stop making moves on me,” Jongho whined with feigned distress. 

Wooyoung scoffed under his breath.

“I thought you were past that phase?” San asked in a low voice, loud enough for the microphone to catch it, without a doubt deliberately making sure Jongho heard it. “You told me that the crush you had on Jongho at the beginning of your friendship is no longer a thing.” He kissed Wooyoung’s neck, grinning against his skin.

Wooyoung pushed him with his elbow, to which San only tightened the hold around his waist, chuckling at his boyfriend’s flustered reaction.

“I hate you both,” Wooyoung huffed.

“The what on me?!” Jongho shrieked.

“Doesn’t matter!” Wooyoung quickly shouted over San before he could go on explaining or embarrassing him further. “Why did you call? We were kind of busy.” 

Jongho snorted, teasingly. “Did I cockblock you?”

“Choi Jongho-” Wooyoung nearly growled.

“Oh my god,” Jongho exhaled, somehow sounding mortified. “You horny bastards, it's not even 4 p.m. I’m just calling to ask if you got the artist passes from the venue. You were supposed to pick them up yesterday.”

Wooyoung hummed, distracted, when San trailed his kisses along the expanse of his neck, dangerously nearing his sensitive spots.

“Yeah, I did. I’ll give them to you at our next rehearsal, okay?” 

He bit back a groan, muting his mic just in time. 

“San-ah,” he breathed in warning. 

San slowed down and pulled away, but not without a huff of resignation. Wooyoung didn’t even catch what Jongho was saying after that. 

He unmuted himself. “Alright, see you on Monday. Bye, bye, love you,” Wooyoung rushed out, before ending the call abruptly.

“Remember to use prote-” Jongho got cut off.

“Where were we?” San steered Wooyoung around so he could face him again, his hands already reaching up to gently cup his face.

The quick turnaround that Wooyoung made him once again aware of the chaotic mess surrounding them. Unfortunately, the cardboard pile was still present, very much not tidied up by Santa’s elves. 

“We were just getting to the fun part,” Wooyoung whispered sinfully, his voice dropping. He watched intently as San licked his lips. There was a dangerous, hungry look in his dark eyes as he prepared to lean in. But right before his boyfriend could make a move to bridge the gap between them, Wooyoung added with a wicked smirk, “Unpacking, that is.”

San looked defeated. Had San actually possessed a pair of fluffy ears, no doubt they would have flattened miserably against his head.

“It's gonna take hours,” San sulked, his voice dropping into a whine. He slumped forward, resting his forehead heavily against Wooyoung’s shoulder, clearly defeated. 

Wooyoung cooed at him, San was just too cute sometimes.

“There's more stuff here than our cabinets could possibly fit.”

“Oh, Sannie,” Wooyoung pressed his lips to San's ear, dropping his voice to a teasing whisper, “but you can make it fit, right? I bet you can. Haven't you said the same thing to me just last night?” The prudery dripped from Wooyoung's words like sweet honey.

San groaned embarrassed upon Wooyoung's teeth grazing his earlobe, teasing his boyfriend for his own enjoyment. “Young-ah…” 

Wooyoung could only giggle at him, pulling away. “Unfortunatelly, you won't get out of unpacking easily. If we won't do this this weekend I just know those boxes will take another couple of days until we'll get to them. And I'm so done with eating cup ramyeon twice a day, I'm not sure how much longer my stomach can take it.”

It's been the third day since they'd moved in, and they'd been postponing unpacking ever since. 

Wooyoung could name at least a dozen of better Friday evening activities. Going on a nice, romantic date for the starters. He couldn't recall the last time they'd gone on one. They also had a list of movies to catch up on, and they could have a marathon if only the microwave wasn't currently somewhere between the box labeled 'fragile' and ' ̶r̶i̶c̶e̶ spices', written in bold black, heavy strokes of San's marker. And Wooyoung refused to watch anything without popcorn, so it all comes back to square one - the boxes had to go.

“We don't need half of the stuff anyway, your mom said it herself, and I agree with her. We wouldn't be so overloaded if you hadn't insisted on keeping most of it,” San whined, looking for a way to back out.

Wooyoung patted his shoulders the final time to make San realize he wouldn't change his mind.

“Alright, then throw away the three bags of whey powder you so insisted you needed to order. Save some space, and you won't be bothered with having to organize them around. Problem solved.”

San glanced back at him, eyes narrowed as if the idea was at least blasphemous. Well, Wooyoung didn't like the idea either. He wasn't keen on throwing out the whey that was responsible for turning his boyfriend into a full size himbo, more muscle than his old shirts could possibly fit. 

“Absolutely not, we're not throwing out my stuff.”

“But you don't need them in all those fancy flavors,” Wooyoung mockingly pouted at him. “Vanilla ice cream, strawberry shortcake, and coffee?”

“Yah! You asked me to order the cappuccino one, I didn't even want it in the first place.” San crossed his arms. “It's only fair you're unpacking.”

Wooyoung mirrored his stance. “I already did the bathroom just yesterday.”

“The bathroom is much smaller.”

Wooyoung sighed, tired that they were going nowhere. Had his back not been killing him from hunching over the boxes for what felt like eternity - which in reality was like two solid hours - he would easily agree to spare San from having to do the kitchen. Not today, though, he was sure as hell he'd wake with a sore back the next day.

Hands outstretched, curling his fist over the flattened palm, he proposed the most diplomatic way of solving all problems: rock, paper, scissors.

San smirked at him, being the champion among them two, confident with his victory. Wooyoung melted just a little seeing him perk up, his back straight, his chin lifted, and a spark in his eyes.

Nearly two years of being together and San still hasn't realised how well Wooyoung could read him. He was the game master, determining the game result before it even started. San always started with paper without realizing - at least Wooyoung hoped that he wasn't doing it on purpose, because if it was his strategy for winning, he'd be amazed with how silly his boyfriend can get at times.

“The winner gets to assemble the nightstands, the loser stays in the kitchen,” Wooyoung stated.

“Deal,” San nodded, getting into position.

San's smirk dissolved into a furrow as they played. Wooyoung didn't need to look at their palms to see the result, it was plainly written across San's face the moment Wooyoung played scissors.

“Best of three?” San pouted.

Wooyoung only snatched the hex key from the countertop, pecking the corner of San's lips on his way out of the kitchen, turning to happily skip to their bedroom before San could protest.

“Pleasure doing business with you, roommie,” Wooyoung called over his shoulder.

Boxes. Boxes everywhere. It was a kind of plague that spread from the kitchen and contaminated their bedroom. Wooyoung thought he was choosing to set himself free by working on the nightstands. But really, he swapped the boxes with kitchen tools for boxes with ready-to-assemble furniture.

Just pulling out the different components Wooyoung could tell their quality wasn't the greatest. The flimsy cardboard layer dent under his fingertips. They weren't planning on staying in this flat for more than three years, anyway. All they needed for now was anything that would make the flat feel more theirs.

With the low price of the rent came some minor issues: the bathroom faucet sprayed water whenever used first time in the morning, surprising Wooyoung on the first morning and drenching his t-shirt when he went to brush his teeth; the living room had drafty windows, that weren't much trouble for now, but would be an issue once winter fully rolled in; and the floor in the middle of the living room was creaking whenever someone passed, so they placed a coffee table there, just to avoid getting irritated by the sound. Still, it all was perfect. As long as they were together, it was all that mattered.

They've essentially been living together for a while now. Depending on whose roommate had demanded that they go bother someone else with their presence and all the noises that came with it, they've stayed in San's or Wooyoung's dorm rooms. They spent the last year of college like that, sneaking between bedrooms and getting teased by their friends for their puppy-like love. 

By the time Wooyoung got to the twentieth page of the instructions - out of sixty, bless him and his poor back - it was already past dusk. He turned to switch on the lamp and groaned when he felt his spine crack. Maybe he should have agreed to unpack the kitchen. Judging by the sound of rattling and clinking glass coming from the other room, it would have been best for both of them.

He stood up to stretch and take a quick break. He headed down the hallway to check on San's progress, and the soft sound of his feet dragging was enough to make San turn. San smiled at him with his warm smile, only briefly before returning to arranging the mugs in the cabinet. 

Wooyoung came to stand behind San to wrap his arms around his waist. Not even two hours have passed, but the need to touch - bother - his boyfriend made his hands itchy. He let out a long breath into San’s back, the warmth of his body dissolving the tension in his body.

“That tired?” San teased. Wooyoung nuzzled his face in the crook of his neck, the soft sweater tickling his cheeks.

“It's good that you love seafood so much, because I might end up with a shrimp posture by the time I'm done assembling all of this,” Wooyoung groaned. Then he paused, voice shifting into a more serious tone. “Would you still love me if I were a worm?”

“Are shrimps even worms?”

“You're avoiding answering the question.” He squeezed San's waist, fingers poking between his ribs and making San squirm. “I'm pretty sure they're like… sea worms?”

“Sea worms?” San had the audacity to laugh. "Whatever you say, baby."

“Hey, I'm being dead serious. I don’t want to be a lonely shrimp, thrown away to live on the streets and die in the sewers, flushed by the rain.”

“I’d keep you in the prettiest aquarium,” San replied solemnly. “Highest quality marble and kelp just for you. You’d even have one of those tiny castles to sleep in.”

Wooyoung hummed, thoroughly pleased. He stayed glued to San’s back while his boyfriend unpacked yet another box, shifting around the kitchen to find cabinet space. Meanwhile, Wooyoung made no moves to help, simply clinging, because San had earned cuddles, even if awkward and stiff.

“I can’t turn into a shrimp!” Wooyoung suddenly realized. “How would you sleep without being able to cuddle me?”

“So that’s the reason you decided not to turn into a worm?”

“It's hard to decide. Shrimps don’t have to build furniture, which is a great argument for.”

“But you were the one so eager to do the assembling. You can’t complain now. You brought this upon yourself.”

Wooyoung huffed at him, half-satisfied with his answer - he knew San would love him for the entire span of his little shrimp life, which probably wouldn't be long. Wooyoung took out his phone to check how long that would really be.

San put two mugs on the countertop instead of stuffing them away with the rest. He opened cabinet after cabinet, clearly unused to the new arrangement despite being the one to put their stuff away. When he found what he was looking for, he grabbed the bag of coffee beans and shuffled to a coffee machine, which was a new addition on the countertop by the window. Wooyoung appreciated that San thought about him, prioritizing unpacking it before anything.

“Coffee break?” he asked, reading Wooyoung's mind.

“Yeah.” Wooyoung squeezed his waist, pressing his lips to the back of San's neck in gratitude, stepping aside. “Did you know most of the aquarium shrimps live up to two years?” He asked, scrolling through Reddit.

San hummed, the fresh aroma of coffee filling the space around them while the loud noise of the machine grinding the beans disrupted their conversation. Wooyoung pocketed his phone, suddenly sad that the tiny shrimps - which he had verified were not sea worms after all, but he liked the silly sound of it so he might stick to it just for fun - lived for such a short time.

“I like you better as a human, anyway. Two years wouldn't be enough.” 

San sat on the leather couch - the furniture was another terrible design choice from their landlord. Wooyoung tried to join San and sit beside him, but when the couch turned out to be designed as a human-fly-trap, making the skin of his thighs stick with sweat to it. He opted to slide off it and sit on the floor instead, choosing a spot between San's thighs, where he could rest his head on San's lap.

A standing lamp in the corner of the room cast a yellow glow, illuminating the vinyl rack and the player standing next to it. Nothing like some old-schoolness. Wooyoung leaped to his feet, hurried to the device, and put on his favorite R&B album. It was a gift from San that he received on their first month anniversary, many months ago. 

As the first notes sounded softly in the room, Wooyoung leaned back against the couch, returning to San once again. The cup of steaming coffee in his palm, the music that made his heart match the beat of the songs flowing in the background, the beige, still empty walls, was everything he'd dreamed of.

He deemed himself the happiest man alive when San's palm ran through his hair, fingers tugging at the strands of his short, red hair. It's been no longer than two weeks since he dyed them, the hair nowhere vibrant as they once have been. He liked keeping them short simply because it was convenient, taking less time to dry, not falling on his face whenever he moved.

“Growing your hair out?” San mused, failing to hide the hint of hope in his voice.

Wooyoung remembered those first shy moments when they had just started dating, back when he kept his hair longer. How San didn’t hesitate to take the smallest chances to swoon him - on one of their very first dates, when Wooyoung’s hair slipped forward and fell over his face as he was eating, he remembered trying to reach up and brush it aside. But San had already leaned in and tucked the strand behind his ear for him. Wooyoung’s face burned for long minutes afterward, warm with something sweet, a little swoon by the gesture, and San’s cheeks were just as flushed. 

The touch, tender and loving, never changed over the years. San always looked after him, always tended to him before Wooyoung could even form the request.

At some point, it could honestly be said that San grew a little fixated on his hair - Hongjoong’s words, of course, though Wooyoung had to admit there was some truth in them. He would catch San leaning in to breathe in the scent of his hair whenever the opportunity presented itself, whether they were simply standing in line at their favorite coffee shop, or curled up together on the couch while Hongjoong tossed a pillow at them and groaned at the display, demanding they take their lovey-dovey closeness somewhere other than the shared living space.

At first, Wooyoung found it strange. His shampoo smelled nice, sure, but he never thought San would be the type to be so enamored with anything as artificial as a perfumed, musky fragrance. And when he finally asked, San only shrugged and confessed without shame that it wasn’t the shampoo he loved most, but Wooyoung’s natural scent beneath it. Wooyoung had assumed it must be the hopeless romantic in San speaking, but still, he felt himself melt just a bit at the honesty of it. This was exactly what made San his San.

“Do you want me to?” Wooyoung asked lightly.

“I'm just asking.” San shrugged, continuing to play with the strands. “They just have gotten longer and I thought it was on purpose.”

Wooyoung sighed. “I haven’t had time to book a haircut. I feel like I’m bouncing between rehearsals for the show next week and playing the role of our manager. I didn’t sign up for this.”

As exhausted as he sounded, Wooyoung couldn’t have been happier with how his band was prospering. They’d gained real momentum since he and Jongho finished college, finally joining Hongjoong and Yunho, who had graduated a year earlier. The band suddenly had more time to expand their horizons, and they were definitely testing their limits by organizing their own live performances - selling tickets, too. No more drifting from club to club as an underground band.

They had the recognition Wooyoung always dreamed of, and the freedom to do what they loved.

“Nervous?” San asked, gently booping his nose, searching for a way to ease the tension pulling at Wooyoung’s shoulders.

“How could I not be? The tickets are selling better than we expected. I’m getting nauseous just thinking about how big the crowd will be.”

“You’ll do amazing,” San said softly. “You always do.”

“Only me? Yunho might get jealous if he hears that.”

“The rest is good, too. But you know my eyes are all on you.”

Wooyoung hummed.

“How about we'll go on a nice date tomorrow?” San suggested. “Relax a bit, take your mind off some things, we both need it. And, we still need to get more familiar with our neighbourhood,” he said lightly, but Wooyoung caught a weird tone to his voice, like he tried to sound indifferent but there was a hidden agenda behind it.

A moment of silence passed while Wooyoung analyzed his words. “Did you get lost while getting to the subway station?” Wooyoung chuckled when he felt San tense behind him, enough to answer him. “Again?” 

“I had to take a cab in the end. My boss nearly tore me to shreds when I turned up late ten minutes because of it,” San groaned embarrassed.

“Couldn't you sneak past his office? He barely steps out of there anyway.”

“You think I haven't tried? But he was already at someone's desk by the time I showed up. I caught him scolding some intern, me being late only fueled his anger.”

“Alright then, we're going out tomorrow.”

In moments like these, held close to his lover and planning their days together, Wooyoung could only wish their future would always be like this. Once, before they decided to move in together, he had confessed to his mother that he was afraid. What if they didn’t work out? What if their relationship couldn’t withstand the test of sharing a home? He knew plenty of couples where adulthood quietly strained and eventually broke even the most promising relationships.

It was only fair to worry about such things, no matter how silly they might seem in hindsight. His mother simply reminded him that they weren’t just any couple. It was him and his Sannie, his soulmate, the person he couldn’t even imagine life without. If there was anyone she trusted to take care of her son, she said, it was San. Mother’s intuition, she joked. But there was truth in her words. The way San looked at him, the way he cared for him, those things couldn’t be faked.

There was no one in the world who brought Wooyoung so much quiet comfort just by being near.

He turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to San’s knuckles, his lips landing on the ring finger that he hoped to claim one day.

“Do you have anywhere special in mind?” Wooyoung asked, tilting his head back to look at his boyfriend. His neck strained from the angle, and it ached a little, but it was worth it just to see the way San’s expression shifted, the faint tension melting into tenderness, his eyes curving into gentle crescents.

“Not really. Just somewhere that serves anything other than ramen.”

He cupped Wooyoung’s cheek in his palm and leaned down to kiss him. Wooyoung’s nose bumped San’s chin, the upside-down kiss far from graceful, a little awkward and uncomfortable. They both laughed into it anyway.

Wooyoung's heart flutters with joy, and he hoped they could be like this forever.

October 2021

Wooyoung and his band had nearly three years of grit and experience under their belts. By no means could they consider themselves a popular band just yet, but they felt like a roaring success by their own standards. They had cultivated a loyal audience and a dedicated online fanbase that had grown through the years alongside them, and they got to perform regularly - which, really, was all their hearts desired. Even if those performances often took place against the familiar, sticky-floor backdrop of their favorite pub on the outskirts of town, rather than the gleaming arenas their wildest dreams might have once harbored.

They were no strangers to the jittery rush of stepping onto a stage, no matter how big or small. But the reason Wooyoung had been obsessing over this particular performance was related to the fact that this show had been the closest thing they’d ever had to a proper debut.

For the first time ever, the entire audience was truly theirs. The crowd wasn’t a haphazard mix of drunk college students stumbling in for the cheapest draft beer in town, or weary office workers looking so out of place it was almost comical to watch from the stage. 

It had been only a day since the night of the so-called debut, yet Wooyoung still felt like he was floating on a high of pure fulfillment and self-accomplishment. The late nights spent building the band from the ground up since they were only kids in college, releasing a handful of singles into the void throughout the years, and taking part in small gigs all across the city had finally paid off.

San had been the one constantly checking how the tickets were selling, since Wooyoung was far too anxious to look at the numbers himself. Wooyoung felt like crying when San had whispered to him backstage, with shining eyes, that they had officially sold out before the club doors even swung shut.

The very next morning, the first online articles about them began surfacing, which was like another layer of his dreams coming true. He woke up to San grinning like a fool at his phone, reading the news. Too excited for his boyfriend to contain himself, he practically shoved the screen into Wooyoung’s face while he was still half-asleep. Wooyoung, still groggy and completely disoriented, hardly understood what reality he’d just woken up in, but the moment the bold letters registered, he no longer felt like sleeping.

‘Is Golden Hour the Hottest New Band of 2021?’

‘Fans Go Wild as Golden Hour Sells Out Their First Show!’

‘Golden Vocals, Sold-Out Debut: Who Just Packed the Paranoia Club to the Rafters?’

The dream only grew more surreal when he finally sat down to check his email inbox that morning. It was then that he found an official invitation from a radio station requesting an interview with the entire band. Wooyoung had immediately switched into full manager mode, taking charge of ironing out the logistics and finalizing every detail. Until now, they’d never had the need, or the funds, to hire anyone to handle larger-scale organizational work. Hell, they could barely afford new strings when they started as a scrappy underground band formed during their college years.

By the time everything was settled with the broadcast, and he had sifted through the rest of the messages - more invitations for upcoming shows, more opportunities clearly sparked by their sudden rise as the new hot topic - Wooyoung felt drained, but deeply satisfied. Everything still felt a little unreal, like the world had shifted overnight.

He slipped off his glasses, rubbing his stinging eyes after staring at his screen for hours, then closed the laptop with a heavy sigh. He hadn’t even registered the exact moment San returned home from work, but his subconscious recalled the faint, familiar click of the door closing some time ago. San had surely stopped by to greet him, but must have decided not to interrupt. He knew better than anyone that Wooyoung never appreciated distractions when he was fully focused and in the zone.

Now though, he was starving for his boyfriend’s attention.

Following the faint music drifting from the record player, Wooyoung’s face lit up when he stepped into the kitchen and spotted San sitting by the kitchen island - turned into his temporary work desk since Wooyoung occupied the other room. Soft classical music floated through the air, almost guiding the gentle, measured strokes of San’s pencil as he sketched. He’d already changed out of his work clothes, his perfectly tailored black slacks and crisp, white dress shirt were long gone, replaced by his favorite gray sweatpants and a simple tee.

“Working overtime?” Wooyoung asked with mild disapproval as he slipped behind San’s chair, wrapping his arms around his middle and pressing a quick kiss to the base of his neck. “You barely got home, baby.”

“You’re one to talk,” San snorted, turning on the stool to face him. Wooyoung naturally fell to stand into the space between his parted legs.

“In my defense, technically, I haven’t left home.”

San gave him a once-over, lifting a brow. “I’m surprised you’ve changed from your nightwear.” His eyes took in Wooyoung’s outfit, much more presentable than the stolen, oversized T-shirt and the shorts he usually wore on his days off.

Wooyoung didn’t even get a chance to shoot back a snarky comment before San pulled him in for a kiss. 

“I have exciting news,” Wooyoung announced.

“Exciting enough for you to switch from tiny shorts to…” San’s hand skimmed down the bare skin of his thigh where the fabric of his loose pants ended just above his knee. Wooyoung shivered at the bold touch, San’s hand sneaking deep beneath the material, tickling the back of his thighs. “Slightly longer shorts? But not exciting enough to get you into jeans? Fancy.”

“I’m not insane enough to wear jeans at home. Be for real.” Wooyoung climbed onto his lap, settling comfortably.

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

“Remember those articles you showed me?” Wooyoung asked, and when San nodded, he declared, “Your cat,” he pointed to himself, “is a rockstar now.”

“And I’m the manager?” 

“No, that’s my job too. Not that I would complain if someone took it over. Anyway-” ” Wooyoung clicked his tongue. “We got invited to Talk FM next week!”

“You did?” San grinned back at him. “I’m so happy for you, baby.”

“I already texted Hongjoong, asking if we could finish the new single in time. It would be the perfect moment to promote it. What do you think?” Wooyoung asked, knowing he could rely on San’s judgment even if he wasn’t part of the industry. 

Their different ways of seeing the world often helped Wooyoung notice angles he would otherwise miss, and the same worked in reverse. They completed each other like that.

“You’ve been working on that track for weeks,” San said. “It’s already perfect the way it is. You should go for it, drop the single while you have all the portals talking about you.”

Wooyoung’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled back slightly. “Speaking of the devil…” He glanced at the screen but didn’t immediately reply. Spending time with San suddenly felt far more important than answering Hongjoong within seconds. Besides, San’s lap was extremely comfortable.

“He can wait a little. Are you doing something urgent?” Wooyoung asked, eyeing the sketches on the counter with a touch of guilt.

“Oh, no, not at all.” San shook his head quickly, following Wooyoung’s gaze. “These aren’t for work. Just some designs for myself. I’ve been trying to figure out what they’re missing, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

Wooyoung hummed softly, studying the drawings - nothing like the sportswear San usually designed at the company. These were evening suits and tailored pieces, worlds apart from the loose sweats and hoodies he typically worked on. Yet they still carried San’s unmistakable touch. The silhouettes weren’t overly experimental, but there was a sharpness to them, a subtle elegance mixed with something quietly sultry. 

“Should we go grab dinner?” Wooyoung suggested. “You can tell me more about them there.”

San pressed a kiss to his temple in wordless agreement. Then, with no warning, he slipped an arm under Wooyoung’s knees and scooped him up, rising from the stool and heading toward the hallway.

Wooyoung let out a startled squeak, arms flying around San’s neck as warmth blossomed across his cheeks. “Hey! A little warning next time would be welcomed.”

“It ruins the romance,” San murmurs back. “Besides, I thought my rockstar cat likes to be carried.”

“You simp,” Wooyoung scoffed, but didn’t deny. 

🌷

The days had been slipping by faster than Wooyoung initially realized. He had a tendency to get deeply caught up in his work, letting the momentum of the band’s rising success consume his waking hours. But today was an exception, it was his hard-earned day off, which meant his phone was put on ‘do not disturb’ mode. He wanted to focus solely on himself and San.

From the moment Wooyoung had entered the kitchen to prepare dinner for them both, however, he felt something strange hanging in the air - and he wasn't referring to the artificial ivy they'd bought a few days ago to decorate the room. Although, looking at it now, he found the plastic vines looking terribly out of place. He made a mental note to throw them away while San wouldn’t be looking. 

Because getting rid of them would essentially mean agreeing with San, who from the start had been arguing that they looked cheap and ugly and that they should have gotten the fairy lights instead. 

Wooyoung wasn't willing to admit defeat out loud just yet.

But as Wooyoung was chopping garlic, the rhythmic sound of the knife hitting wood filling the silence, he realized his subconscious was focused on something entirely different. His senses were prickling under the shift in the strange tension hanging in the room.

San, unlike himself, was right next to him, helping him cook. Usually, he’d groan and huff whenever Wooyoung asked him to do so much as chop ingredients or wash the rice. This time, however, San acted strangely compliant, bordering on eager. He was dutifully stirring the veggies in the frying pan while Wooyoung prepared the rest, humming a faint tune under his breath. He seemed actually enthusiastic about the chore.

Wooyoung eyed him sneakily. He paused his hand, still gripping the knife and hovering over the cutting board. San had been stealing quick glances at Wooyoung every so often, his eyes soft and brimming with something unspoken.

“What?” Wooyoung asked, his gaze searching San’s face for a clue. 

San shrugged, and tried to bite back a smile that danced on the corner of his lips. “What what?” 

“You’re acting weird.”

San set down the wooden spoon, leaning his hip against the counter and fully meeting Wooyoung’s eyes. Wooyoung could read from San’s face that he was beyond excited. For what? He wasn’t sure. 

“Because I’m helping you cook?” San chuckled, his tongue poking his cheek while his eyes expectantly searched Wooyoung’s. 

Wooyoung recognized the look on him instantly - anticipation. His chest was puffed out slightly and his face was lit up with a brilliant smile. Which wasn’t new, San never hid his emotions around Wooyoung, but it was highly suspicious given there was absolutely nothing to smile about while frying an onion. Still, San looked almost like a kitten who had brought a mouse to the doorstep of its owner’s house and was vibrating with energy, waiting to be praised. 

“Because you’re not whining while cooking. I thought you hated it when your eyes watered from chopping onions.”

“It’s not that bad.” 

“San-ah, tell me what’s going on.”

San's lips were pursed, his fingers tapping lightly against the countertop he leaned on, barely containing his energy. The only thing missing was a pair of cat ears perched on top of his head, perked high and twitching with excitement.

“Nothing,” San sing-songed happily, the melody of his voice betraying him.

Wooyoung narrowed his eyes at him further. “Choi San, what are you scheming?”

“Nothing!” San laughed heartily, though his gaze slipped, flickering for a split second to something somewhere behind Wooyoung. 

Wooyoung whipped his head around, his eyes scanning the room like a radar searching for a disturbance. His beloved basil plant on the windowsill? Untouched and green. Maybe San had swapped out the curtains for some hideous magenta pink material just to prank him? Nope, they were still hanging in their familiar, deep green shade. The kitchen stools, then? But no, they were arranged in the same haphazard way as always. And the couch - the same squeaky, leather enemy of Wooyoung’s bare thighs - was standing innocently in the corner.

“I’m watching you.” He tipped the chef's knife up, pointing the blade in San’s direction to emphasize his point. “You better confess right now before I discover what you’ve been up to myself.”

He dropped his investigation for the moment and went on finishing preparing and plating their food. Once they were seated for dinner, the silence was only broken by the clink of cutlery. San was chewing on a piece of chicken, but his focus wasn't on the meal. He was still sneaking eager glances at Wooyoung across the table.

“Not good?” Wooyoung asked, completely clueless as to what was going on inside his boyfriend’s head. He looked down at his own bowl, frowning. “I haven’t changed the recipe-” 

“No, babe, it’s delicious, seriously.” San quickly shook his head to dispel the doubt, then deliberately set his chopsticks down. “You really haven’t noticed anything new?”

“Other than you acting like you’re seeing me for the first time?” Wooyoung huffed, his own chopsticks following San’s onto the table.

“Are you really not playing with me right now?” San chuckled, sounding equal parts amused by Wooyoung’s oblivion and intrigued by how long it was taking.

“I’d gladly play along, if I only knew what was going on!” 

He narrowed his eyes and gave San a quick, thorough scan, growing suspicious that he might have changed something about his appearance and Wooyoung had just missed it - a haircut, a piercing? Though, looking closer, he looked exactly the same. His hair was still the familiar shade of dyed raven black, falling softly over his forehead. His eyebrows were unchanged, currently raised in curiosity as he sat perfectly still, watching Wooyoung. Each of his moles was still intact and in its rightful place - Wooyoung knew for a fact, because he had their constellation nearly tattooed in his mind from the countless nights he’d spent tracing them.

Only his glasses were missing, but Wooyoung didn’t find that strange, since San often took them off to give his eyes a break when he could feel a headache approaching.

“…Your glasses?” 

San shook his head, a bright laugh finally bubbling up. “No, but rest assured, we are getting you a new prescription soon.”

San licked his lips before he grinned. He leaned over the table, his fingers gently cupping Wooyoung’s jaw to guide him, angling his head to the side. Wooyoung furrowed his brows, squinting slightly as he tried to figure out what exactly San wanted him to notice. 

At first, nothing clicked. Then…

Oh.

Right there, next to their dinner plates and well within arm's reach, stood a vase with beautiful flowers in full bloom. Tulips that definitely hadn’t been there when Wooyoung left the kitchen that morning. 

A sudden heat rushed to his cheeks, flushing them pink. It was either from the embarrassment of realizing just how oblivious he had been to something sitting right under his nose, or from being utterly charmed by San’s sweet gesture. 

Maybe both.

“Who is it for?” 

San tapped Wooyoung’s cheek affectionately. “Who do you think? It’s for you, silly.” 

Yeah, definitely both.

Wooyoung turned his gaze back to San, beaming up at him. San reciprocated the smile instantly, his expression soft and open, and Wooyoung felt himself falling for him just a little harder in that quiet moment. San’s gaze held so much raw fondness and adoration that Wooyoung could barely hold eye contact without feeling overwhelmed.

“You bought flowers,” Wooyoung said simply, a giggle bubbling up in his throat. 

A proud smile tugged at the corners of San's lips. “I did.” He reluctantly let go of Wooyoung’s face, his fingers lingering for a second before dropping. 

“What's the occasion?" Wooyoung leaned in to study the delicate white petals that faded into a soft, gradient pink at their base.

“Does there have to be one? I saw them on my way back home and thought it was too long since I last bought you a bouquet. Do you like them?"

How could Wooyoung possibly not?

He leaned in across the small distance and pressed a lingering kiss to San’s cheek, feeling the skin twitch beneath his lips as San smiled even wider, melting into the affection. Wooyoung then nuzzled closer, one arm looping loosely behind San’s neck.

“I adore them. Thank you, Sannie. Their color is pretty, too. Reminds me of your blush.” He punctuated the declaration with a quick, soft peck on San’s cheek again for good measure, noting with satisfaction that the very skin he kissed was now faintly dusted with the exact same soft pink as the tulips.

“Oh? Really? I just thought they looked like strawberries and cream.”

“Of course you did.”

San didn’t usually pick flowers based on their hidden meanings.

He simply chose whatever bouquet he found the prettiest to buy for Wooyoung. Sometimes Wooyoung could expect flowers waiting for him on big days like anniversaries or his birthdays, but often they appeared on normal, mundane days too. In such cases, San always came up with a sweet and simple excuse for those 'just because' bouquets on the spot. 

“They made me think of you.” “Because you weren’t feeling well yesterday.” “Just because I love you.”

But this was the first time he had ever bought him tulips, and Wooyoung wanted to believe that he had chosen them for their meaning.

🌷

The tulips lasted exactly eight days.

When the stems finally gave way, no longer sturdy enough to support the heavy weight of the fully bloomed petals, Wooyoung had to throw them out with an aching heart. 

Against his worries, the vase didn’t stay empty for long. That very evening, San insisted on rushing to the nearest flower shop to replace the bouquet, even though Wooyoung strongly objected. It had been raining the entire day, the kind of heavy downpour that made the prospect of going outside look anything but inviting, especially for such a trivial errand. But San ignored his protests entirely, simply slipping on his shoes and jogging out the door, an umbrella in hand and his cap pulled low over his head.

Ten, full, long, and worry-filled minutes later, he was back. Triumphant, if thoroughly soaked. The rim of his purple umbrella dripped a steady stream of rainwater onto the floorboards of their hallway. His other hand was tightly gripping a fresh bouquet.

San had chosen tulips once again, this time in a gentle, lavender shade. Wooyoung loved them just as much, if not slightly more, simply because of the bright, self-satisfied smile tugging at the lips of his drenched, dedicated boyfriend. Though, naturally, he couldn't help but scold him for being so reckless. 

Affectionately, of course.

“What am I going to do with you? Huh?” He nagged right in San’s ear, lecturing him while vigorously helping dry his damp hair with a large, fluffy towel at the same time.

“A kiss would be welcomed as a thank you.” 

The two of them later cuddled up on the couch, tangling their limbs together to get San back to being warm and cozy. From the kitchen counter, the vase full of fresh purple blooms proudly watched over the two love-struck fools.

And if San did, in fact, wake up with a raspy cough the very next morning, Wooyoung could do nothing but immediately prepare him a cup of hot ginger tea. All while gently chastising him to never, under any circumstance, do something so needlessly reckless again.

Still, he carefully and tenderly cared for his romantic fool in the following days, patiently helping him recover from his slight sickness just as the flowers slowly spread their gorgeous petals in the background.

Ever since, there hasn’t been a single day when their countertop hasn’t been adorned with a vase of beautiful tulips.

🌷

It had taken them embarrassingly long to finally clear all the boxes out of their apartment, but in the end, they managed to piece together something that resembled their new home. It still lacked the small, intimate touches that would make the place feel truly theirs - some frames with photos of them and their friends; more plants; and the little trinkets they would surely collect over the years. Wooyoung didn’t doubt that, with time, the space would gradually grow familiar and warm. Homes weren’t built overnight.

In all fairness, Wooyoung barely had a moment to breathe to worry about interior design. He was constantly being whisked from grueling practices with his band to the recording studio, where the most important project of their career was slowly, painstakingly coming together. Their debut album. It was mostly Hongjoong’s genius at work, though Jongho helped him with a few of the tracks.

And when Wooyoung wasn’t in the rehearsal space or the studio, he was holed up in his tiny home office, drowning in an endless sea of emails and schedules. Earlier, when he’d agreed to take on the manager duties, he hadn’t fully realized how much weight would fall on his shoulders. He started to feel the toll of being a leader, a vocalist, and a manager all combined into one exhausted body. He grew more drained day by day, often losing track of what day of the week it actually was.

Even as the responsibilities piled up like a mountain, he promised San he wouldn’t let the hectic chaos slowly forming around him swallow him whole. 

San was his strongest support, and his motivation to keep pushing forward, but that didn’t mean Wooyoung could simply sprint ahead and expect San to always catch up. Love didn’t work that way. Wooyoung refused to lose the love of his life, his soulmate, by simply neglecting him for the sake of his career. Music was his everything, the air he breathed, but as much as there was no Wooyoung without music, he felt like he would lose his entire life if he didn't have San beside him.

Even the most beautiful flower will wither if it isn’t watered regularly. 

Their relationship was something they’d created together. It wasn’t always easy and nice. They argued often, and they both tended to get heated due to their fierce, stubborn characters. When either of them refused to yield during an argument, things could get messy. But they always worked on it, engaging in conversations that eventually brought them back to a compromise. 

San could never doubt how much he meant to Wooyoung, he made sure of it every single day. So, no matter how busy things got or how late he came home, he would always carve out time for San at the end of the day. 

More often than not, the two ended up snoring halfway through their evening reality-show marathons. They would be curled up together in their bed, which was far more comfortable than the couch that had become Wooyoung’s mortal enemy by now. 

They had once fallen asleep on that couch after an incredibly filling dinner, wrapped in their favorite position - San sprawled over Wooyoung like a heavy human blanket while Wooyoung stroked his back. He had woken up hours later drenched in sweat, trapped between his boyfriend’s radiating heat and the unforgiving leather sticking to his skin like glue. It was like a nightmare. He had sworn right then and there that he would never fall asleep there again.

They had almost finished every available season of Love Island, with only a handful of episodes left. Wooyoung would never admit it out loud, but the show had become his guilty pleasure, he loved passing judgment on the contestants’ questionable decisions. And he loved even more how whiny San got whenever someone pulled a dirty trick, the hopeless romantic in him groaning at the screen about how unfair it was to their partner. Love wasn’t supposed to look so manipulative, so ugly, San insisted. Wooyoung, who was far less emotionally invested than his boyfriend, often had to remind him that reality TV wasn’t real to begin with.

Currently, Wooyoung dreamed of nothing more than the soft embrace of his bed as he’s been pacing around the tennis court for thirty minutes now. He swore he could feel his shirt sticking to every inch of his skin. And as much as he appreciated San’s designs, and could honestly admit the shirt was so comfortable, there was nothing pleasant, let alone welcome, about feeling overstimulated by that awful, sweaty cling.

“Time!” he panted, feeling both his shoulders and his lungs burning. Jongho didn’t listen, sending the served ball back with even more force. And as exhausted as Wooyoung was, he wasn’t about to give up and hand his friend a point, returning the ball. “Hojong-ah, time!” 

“Score, and you get a break!” Jongho shouted back, grinning like the menace he was.

They’d taken up the sport months ago as a challenge - a bet, to be exact, to see who would break first and skip one of their weekly training, sick days excluded. So far neither had caved, and ironically, the whole challenge born out of stubborn pride had actually improved their stamina in favor of their live performances. Not to mention the competitiveness that sparked between them the moment they stepped onto the court always seemed to wash their stress away.

“I really-” Wooyoung swung his racket in a desperate arc. “Need to drink water!”

“You’re gonna drink your tears when I leave you defeated!”

Wooyoung was caught completely off guard by the absolute worst line he had ever heard. It was something ripped straight from the cheesiest, low-budget drama imaginable, and it was even more shocking coming out of Jongho’s mouth. He folded over, laughing so hard he completely missed his shot. The ball bounced twice on the court before rolling off past the white line.

“Ha! Loser!” Jongho called out, doing his little victory dance, wiggling his hips. 

“That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Wooyoung wheezed, wiping sweat from his forehead with his wristband. “Where did you even learn that?” 

“Yunho,” Jongho said with a nonchalant shrug, walking over to their bags for a sip of water. “He was doom-scrolling Instagram reels yesterday and reading them out loud.”

“I should have guessed,” Wooyoung chuckled, shaking his head as he followed him to the benches on the sidelines. 

With a heavy sigh, he planted himself on the wooden bench, grabbing his bottle and sipping on the cool water while idly checking his phone. 

He nearly choked on his sip, coughing violently, when he opened a message from San. It included a picture of him, fresh and sweaty after his workout at the gym, dressed in that specific gray tank top that he knew damn well drove Wooyoung insane. The fabric clung to his chest, highlighting every muscle definition, and San had the sheer audacity to caption it with a simple: ‘;)’

And they say romance is dead. 

Wooyoung grinned at the picture after he’d finally managed to swallow the water.

“You good?” Jongho tipped his chin, half looking up from his own phone. He started leaning over to steal a glance at Wooyoung’s screen, but when he caught as much as a glimpse of the sweaty thirst trap, he immediately recoiled physically. “Ouh, nevermind. Forget I asked. I saw nothing.”

Wooyoung laughed at him acting so flustered. “One day you’ll learn to stop snooping around for your own good.”

“It’s totally fine when I snoop through Hongjoong’s or Yunho’s phone. It’s you that’s the threat to my sanity.” 

Wooyoung said nothing, biting his lower lip while he thought of what to send back to San. He resolved to keep it simple but effective: ‘looking hot, big boy 🫦’ 

San had been trying to convince him to go to the gym together for ages. The pictures he was sending Wooyoung on the regular were his calculated, elaborate tactic to lure him in, or so he thought. 

But no force in the world could make Wooyoung endure the experience of a public gym ever again. He’d been there once, back in college, and he’d vowed to never put himself through it again. He’d gone as far as buying a matching workout set meant to make him look ‘waist snatched, tits on display, perky and unstoppable’ - which, honestly, was quite a significant expense for a broke college student. He had worn the outfit proudly that one time, joining San, who had only been his friend back then. 

Wooyoung kind of had basked in the hungry stares the outfit earned him. He felt sexy. He felt powerful lifting all those… weights or whatever. 

But it didn’t take long for him to form a very strong, negative opinion about the place. All it took was being subjected to thirty straight minutes of people moaning and grunting all around him. The noises were somehow worse than anything in the cheapest of cheap porn videos.

Needless to say, he’d never stepped foot in that gym again. Tennis would have to be enough cardio for now.

Wooyoung quickly checked his inbox to clear the notifications, when his heart suddenly skipped a beat. He had to read the subject line twice just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating from the heat.

“Remember when I pitched to you that I might be able to score us a gig at a big venue next?” Wooyoung smirked, bookmarking the email and looking up expectantly at Jongho.

“Yeah, and then I said you might be delirious from sleep deprivation.”

“I just got a confirmation from the organizers, everything’s official, the deal is sealed,” Wooyoung announced happily, practically vibrating. “We’re performing at the Incheon R&B Festival.”

Jongho’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding!” He moved closer, abandoning his water bottle to peek over Wooyoung’s shoulder and read the official text himself. 

“Nope,” Wooyoung said, punctuating the word by smacking his lips only a breath away from Jongho’s cheek, forcing the younger boy to recoil before he ended up with a big, juicy, sweaty kiss. “Not kidding. We’ve got a little over two months to prepare for the show.”

“What about promotion? We need to start posting on our social media.”

“I’ll handle it.” Wooyoung tossed his phone back into his duffel bag with feigned confidence and wiped the last of the sweat from his forehead. “Ready to go again?” He flipped the racket in his hand, trying to spin it coolly.

“Wooyoung,” Jongho started carefully, not rising from the bench, “you shouldn’t take all of this on your shoulders.” Jongho’s expression turned serious, and he made no move to resume the game.

“I’m fine, really. Nothing I can’t manage, it’s just a single show.” Wooyoung shrugged, brushing it off despite the dark clouds gathering in the back of his mind.

In reality, it would be a mountain of work, for which he had neither the qualifications nor the faintest clue how to deal with. But he wasn't about to admit that now.

“For now,” Jongho pressed, a sharper edge slipping into his tone. It might’ve thrown Wooyoung off if he didn’t know that beneath that edge was pure concern, likely the same worries the rest of the band carried. “But you can’t pretend the whole manager thing isn’t wearing you down. And if we keep growing-”

“We will.”

“When we grow,” he corrects himself, “and start touring beyond pub stages or one-off gigs, what then? Where’s the line between being our vocalist and being our manager? And our social media operator? Don’t get me wrong, we all appreciate your work. But we’re worried about you. Not just as bandmates, but as your friends first.”

Wooyoung tightened his grip on the racket, his other hand tapping a restless rhythm against his thigh.

“I think we should at least consider hiring someone full-time.”

“We don’t have the finances for that.” 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it already. With the cost of their studio, organizing events, and keeping up with equipment maintenance, adding another salary to the equation made the Excel sheets refuse to balance no matter how many formulas he tried. The numbers were already giving him sleepless nights.

“Unless we see a significant increase in our income, and I mean significant, we can’t even think about it.”

“Then we’ll cut expenses somewhere else. I refuse to sit here and watch you sacrifice yourself until you burn out or end up sick. It’s unnecessary, no matter how honorable you think it is.”

It would mean going through their expense list again from top to bottom, combing through every line and trying to figure out whether squeezing in another wage was even remotely possible. And honestly, Wooyoung would love nothing more than to hand over the logistical nightmare to someone who actually knew how to coordinate a band from the inside out. 

He was born to shred his vocal cords on stage, not to manage spreadsheets, even if he did have a degree for it, courtesy of his very insistent parents. Years of studying accounting, a major he’d been pushed into rather than chosen, were at least proving useful now. If only in the most draining way imaginable.

“Can we talk about it another day, with Hongjoong and Yunho there?” Wooyoung tossed a ball toward Jongho, refusing to let him push the topic any further for now. “We’re gonna have to clear the court soon. Let’s finish the game.”

“That eager to have your ass kicked?” 

“Did Yunho teach you that one too?”

“You’d be surprised by his ‘for you’ page.”

🌷

By the time he finally made it home, San had long since returned from the gym. It was late already, Wooyoung simply assumed San had gone to bed, since he had to wake up early tomorrow. 

Moving quietly on his tiptoes, he padded down the hallway until he noticed rays of intense light escaping their small guest room-turned-home-office. Wooyoung went to check, wincing when his rain jacket rustled with every movement. He shrugged it off his shoulder in a quick motion and entered the room. 

The harsh white light of the desk lamp carved sharp edges along San’s silhouette. The shadows in the room made him look somehow smaller. His eyes were droopy with fatigue, unfocused, his glasses tossed aside, ripped off during a moment of frustration. His shoulders were sagged, posture collapsing inward, and Wooyoung wondered, with that familiar pinch of worry in his chest, whether San had even taken a single break.

The charcoal stains smudged along his fingertips and the half-erased lines on the sketch paper in front of him suggested the answer was a definitive no. When San locked into his creative zone, the world simply ceased to exist.

His hair was tousled and sticking up in odd directions, clear evidence that he had been dragging his hands through it repeatedly. Dragging his tired feet across the floor, Wooyoung approached him quietly, trying to not startle him. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to the top of his head, followed by his hand caressing San gently, smoothing the wild strands.

“You’re home already?” San murmured, as though waking from a dream, his voice groggy with lost hours and focus. “I haven’t heard you.” 

“Well, we have that in common.” Wooyoung giggled heartily. “It’s almost midnight.”

San looked at his phone, groaning when the clock confirmed the late hour. 

“I had a late dinner after tennis with Jongho, we ended up talking longer than planned. Have you eaten anything?”

San shook his head, smacking his lips as if he’d only just remembered that food existed, grimacing. 

“I can make you something quick,” Wooyoung offered. “Or I’ll just reheat the leftovers, how does that sound?”

He set his bag down, only now realizing he still had it slung over his shoulder, and began unzipping his hoodie.

“I think-” San started, but a yawn cut him off. “I’ll just go to sleep.”

The office chair groaned as he pushed away from the desk and rolled toward Wooyoung without even standing up. He pressed his face into Wooyoung’s stomach. His arms wrapped loosely around Wooyoung’s waist, pulling him in as he let out a long, heavy exhale. Wooyoung’s chest warmed at the gesture, at the thought of being the place San instinctively went for comfort.

“Are you sure?” he murmured, threading his fingers gently with the hair at San’s nape, scratching him lightly.

He half glanced at San’s sketchbook, curious about what had kept him rooted in the same spot for hours on end. His guess that San had been working late on a company project again was confirmed. 

San had already complained a few days ago about the new head designer the company had hired to oversee the entire spring collection, and how he was pushing them with the finalization of the project. The brand had advertised him like some kind of creative prodigy, promising he was a visionary meant to elevate their image and help them enter into a new era. 

At first, San didn’t mind the increased workload. He was used to pressure in the world of fashion. How anyone managed to keep up with the trends shifting so dynamically was something Wooyoung still considered nothing short of witchcraft.

But the new boss turned out to be a different kind of challenge. He pushed everyone to work twice as hard while cutting half the original team assigned to the project, insisting that fewer voices would mean “more efficiency.” Being one of the few who remained on the core team was both an honor and a curse for San. It meant the company trusted his talent, but it also meant the weight on his shoulders had doubled overnight. More expectations, more responsibility, more long nights hunched over sketches that needed revising because someone higher up wanted a complete reimagining.

It was the kind of burden that even someone as resilient as San could only carry for so long.

San nodded against his stomach, not yet ready to let go if that meant glancing back to his designs.

“You smell,” San mumbled eventually, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

“Jongho showed up extra pissed today and took it out on me. I was running after the ball like a dog.”

“Who won?”

“You’re really asking? Have you not realized your boyfriend was born to hold a tennis racket? People should be grateful I chose a vocalist career, otherwise I’d be out there stealing Wimbledon trophies left and right-”

“Jongho won, didn’t he?” San cut in.

“Yah!” Wooyoung pinched the back of his neck. “Have some faith in me, will you?”

A beat, Wooyoung sighed. 

“Yeah, he won. It was just an one time thing, I was tired, didn't drink my fourth coffee today-"

San chuckled, only then pulling away. Wooyoung watched as he tidied up just enough to call it done, switching off the lamp last. The room instantly softened, lit now only by the warm glow from the hallway. 

“I’ll be waiting for my loser in the shower,” San murmured low against his ear.

As he walked past, his hand glided across the small of Wooyoung’s back. The touch was light, fleeting, and still managed to knock the air right out of him. Wooyoung froze for half a second, mind buzzing with white noise, before San’s voice called from down the hall.

“Come on, before I fall asleep waiting for you.”

Wooyoung didn’t have to be told twice. He rushed after him, tugging his shirt over his head as he went.

November 2021

The only force actually pushing Wooyoung’s legs forward and getting him back home was the autopilot in his brain, guiding him while his mind felt like a puddle of incoherent thoughts. 

The past week had been... brutal.

A miracle had happened to allow them to start the search for a manager. 

Miracle was a slight overstatement, but not far from the truth, considering how much convincing it took to get Hongjoong to share their private studio with another producer after hours, when they weren't currently using “Hongjoong’s sanctuary” - word for word.

The additional source of income, along with the steadily increasing income from royalty payments and occasional smaller gigs, allowed them to secure a stable sum. But the moment one problem closed, another surfaced. Now they actually had to go through the stack of CVs from potential managers and weed out someone who would be the best fit for their team. According to Jongho, it was “all about the vibes,” and he claimed he could pinpoint the best candidate at first glance alone. Wooyoung wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t have the energy to argue.

He skipped the last few steps to their floor with simple needs: collapse into San’s arms, shut down his brain for the entire weekend, and just float in his boyfriend’s space. 

The door unlocked with a soft chime, maybe quiet enough that San didn’t notice. Or maybe Wooyoung didn’t give him the time to. He stormed down the hallway still in his black leather jacket, shoes very much still on his feet.

Hearing the heavy footsteps, San looked up from his phone, one eyebrow arching in quiet confusion at the sudden rush. Wooyoung found him lying on the couch, takeout boxes already neatly waiting in plastic bags on the coffee table. Red-tulip bouquet next to them. 

A low, exhausted groan left Wooyoung the moment he laid eyes on him. San looked effortlessly hot, downright sinful, in just a black tee and shorts that Wooyoung was almost sure had originally been his. 

Not that he minded, they looked far better on San anyway.

Wooyoung must’ve been a sight to behold - standing in the doorway still fully dressed in outerwear, bag slipping off his shoulder, dark circles bruising the skin under his eyes. 

But that didn’t stop a soft, fond smile from blooming on San’s face the moment their gazes met. And just like that, Wooyoung could breathe again.

His thoughts teetered somewhere around launching himself into San’s arms to kiss him stupid and ripping that tee clean off his gorgeous body, but San cut the thought short.

“Hi?” San laughed quietly, uncertain if Wooyoung was even fully conscious of the mortal plane.

Oh, he was. He was very aware, especially when San opened his arms in an invitation. That was all Wooyoung needed before crossing the room, crashing into his chest with enough force to draw a hushed “oof” from him as Wooyoung’s weight knocked the air from his lungs.

It was tricky to position himself with his legs dangling over the armrest, trying not to get the couch dirty, while looking for a way to get comfortable on top of San. He wrestled on top of him a bit, poking his ribs with an elbow. San squeaked, holding him by his shoulders.  

“Maybe take your shoes off first?” 

Wooyoung mumbled something in response, too busy slipping his arms behind San’s neck to even consider the suggestion.

“Alright,” San laughed hushedly. 

One hand settled naturally at the small of Wooyoung’s back, keeping him from accidentally rolling off, the other lifted to cup his cheek. He squeezed the soft skin there, faint stubble brushing his fingertips, and tugged lightly at the corner of Wooyoung’s lips to coax a smile. He didn’t have to try, though. Wooyoung beamed immediately. 

The gentleness with which San held him made the rest of his tension melt away, leaving him feeling lighter, content with nothing but the warmth of San’s body beneath him and his scent surrounding him. He smelled faintly of his cologne, rich like whiskey, tangy like anise, sweet like his San. His home.

And he tasted so sweetly too, familiar and loving, when Wooyoung connected their lips. 

He could kiss San a thousand times and it would never be close to enough. San always kissed him the same way: soft, but sure, pressing into him in a way that somehow always felt like their very first kiss.

“Hi,” Wooyoung finally murmured, exhaling the word against San’s lips before stealing another kiss. Or two. 

His nose brushed San’s cheek, accidentally catching on San’s glasses when he tilted his head a little too eagerly. They both giggled into the kiss. San reached up to remove his glasses.

He could kiss San until their mouths ached, but his boyfriend also looked so warm and comfortable that it was impossible to resist laying his head against San’s chest. He eventually gave in to the urge, listened to the steady heartbeat there, his own falling into a matching rhythm. With his eyes closed, nothing existed beyond that gentle thrum and the faint, soft whistle of San’s breath.

“Hi.” 

San tucked Wooyoung’s head beneath his chin, his hand threading slowly through his hair. The heavy sigh that slipped from Wooyoung made him continue with the affectionate touches. 

“How was your day?”

He didn’t rush them to eat, even with the food waiting on the table. San knew exactly how much Wooyoung needed this - the comfort of his arms, the refuge they always offered. Just sinking into San's space was enough to shed the day's heavy weight. They would reheat the food later. It was probably cold already anyway.

“We’ve gone through over a hundred different CVs. I genuinely didn’t think there were that many ways to say ‘I have zero experience but I’m a positively unhinged slash crazy enthusiast ready to conquer the music industry,’” Wooyoung scoffed, recalling the endless list he’d spent the entire day reviewing with Yunho’s help. 

“The key to success,” San chimed in with a huff. 

“I feel like we’re getting nowhere.”

“But you’ve done a hell of a job.” San’s fingers worked slow circles on Wooyoung’s scalp, sometimes pausing to take a moment to examine the soft pink strands.

“A hundred done, three hundred more to go. I just hope we’ll actually find someone. It’s not like we have overly high expectations or anything, but…” 

“It’s hard to trust someone with the band that’s your whole life.”

“Mhm.” Wooyoung hummed, San picking the thought straight from his mind. Perks of having a soulmate-like bond.

“You’ll have to, eventually. And you’ll be so much happier when you focus on music again, and only music. I miss hearing you sing around the house.”

Wooyoung blinked at him, surprised. They were in the middle of preparing for their second biggest show, San had to be exaggerating.

“How’s that? I feel like I’m singing all the time.”

“Maybe, just not around me anymore. You go quiet whenever you're tired, which happens more and more often lately. And you haven’t recorded a cover in ages.”

Wooyoung gasped. The band’s YouTube channel must have already been slightly covered in dust, forgotten somewhere between the chaos of moving and the whirlwind their career spun into. He used to record covers regularly, then life swallowed him whole, and he just… forgot. The realization stung.

That little archive of his progress, those early covers documenting the journey, carried personal significance for him. Sure, they helped promote the band in their early days, but more than anyone else, they were posted for San.

“I forgot,” Wooyoung whispered, squeezing his eyes shut, and letting out a tired breath. “Shit, I’ll get back to it soon, I promise.”

“My little mockingbird,” San murmured, cupping his face gently. “Don’t stress yourself, alright? Go at your own pace. I’m only here to admire you, not to stress you into singing. And I do miss it a lot.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes at the cheesines, ignoring the way his heart tripped in his chest, still hopelessly responsive to his lover even after all these years. 

“You can get so sappy sometimes, you know.”

“Oh, I know. I take great pride in it.” 

Wooyoung nuzzled back into his chest. “And you? How was today?”

“Wasn’t too bad.” San pressed a loving kiss to his hair before continuing. “Mostly meetings that were too boring to even talk about. I had something to pick up after work, but luckily I managed to get out of the center before traffic would’ve trapped me for two hours, at least. Lazy afternoon after that.” He shrugged. “Oh, right. I almost forgot. I cleaned the bathroom so you don’t have to do it tomorrow.”

Wooyoung lifted his head to look at him. “Deep cleaned? Like, actually?”

“Mhm.”

“Fuck,” Wooyoung bit his bottom lip. “That’s so hot.” 

He traced a finger down San’s chest before bursting into giggles.

San rolled his eyes at him, but laughed too. “Nasty.” 

Nonetheless, his cheeks were colored faint pink.

“No, but-” Wooyoung swallowed the embarrassment at his own actions hitting him with delay. “Thank you.” 

He kissed the tip of San’s nose, watching him scrunch it right after. 

“Cute.”

“Thought we could use the weekend in a better way,” San’s voice dropped, sounding lower now, almost suggestive.

“How?” Wooyoung matched his tone, licking his lips slowly. He watched San’s gaze follow the movement, his throat bobbing with a heavy swallow.

“You and me. Grocery shopping.”

Wooyoung snorted, swatting his chest.

“You’re so lame. How about we actually go out somewhere? Yunho showed me on Instagram that there are puppy yoga classes in our neighborhood."

“Do you even like yoga?” San asked, genuinely surprised.

“No.” Wooyoung was quick to deny it. 

He hadn’t actually tried it, he just knew the poses looked cool online, but the idea of twisting his body into them already made his joints ache. 

“Well, I don’t know. I might be too stiff, but I’m sold because of the puppies. San-ah, corgi puppies!”

“Alright then. We’re going.” San patted his butt a couple of times, tapping out a playful uneven rhythm. “Now, if you could, go change already, I’m starving.”

🌷

It was difficult to determine who was more brimming with energy the next day: Wooyoung on the way to the class they had booked, or the lively puppies that swarmed him and the other participants the moment they were allowed into the room.

The instructor definitely upheld the kind of standards one would expect for the price they had paid - far too much, in San’s opinion. He had never been fond of studios that relied on glossy interiors and carefully curated - boring and beige - aesthetics to lure people in.

The warm-up came first, puppy-less, much to Wooyoung’s heartbreak. At least his body wasn’t as stiff as he feared, and he managed to surprise himself when he reached down and actually touched his toes. He would have to brag about it to Jongho tomorrow.

San, however, struggled. His muscle mass limited his range of motion in several poses. Wooyoung absolutely did not coo over him - if anything, he laughed, just a little too loudly, watching his boyfriend silently pout while trying to twist his body the way the instructor demonstrated.

“Should’ve stayed home,” San whispered, for which Wooyoung lightly kicked his shin to silence him.

The comment reached not only Wooyoung, but also the instructor nearby, who blinked at him in confusion. San apologized, sheepish and red to the tips of his ears.

Once the warm-up ended, they were asked to sit on their mats. Wooyoung practically bounced where he sat. They received a quick list of instructions, just before the puppies were brought in.

The best day of his life, Wooyoung concluded immediately when a swarm of tiny corgis rushed into the room - tails wagging, little tongues seeking any uncovered skin, small paws pattering over mats and legs and laps. It was chaos of the best possible kind.

Actually, the second best day, he corrected mentally when he remembered the moment he got his first CD player for his 10th birthday. The day that forever changed the trajectory of his life.

Two puppies quickly claimed him. One with soft patches of brown and black in its fur curled itself into the space created by his crossed legs, settling so comfortably it soon drifted into a gentle sleep, tiny snores vibrating against his calf. The other wriggled its way into his arms, and Wooyoung showered it in kisses, overwhelmed by a surge of affection so intense he nearly felt dizzy.

“San-ah, can we adopt them?” 

When San hadn't answered, Wooyoung looked up to search for him. He found a pile of puppies, in which San was probably buried. 

Sprawled out on the floor like a starfish, San was being attacked from every direction by multiple puppies. Even the one that had been napping in Wooyoung’s lap suddenly gathered strength, climbed his leg, and with a heroic leap, rushed to join the assault.

San just lay there, shoulders shaking with helpless laughter as wet noses and tiny tongues tickled his face, neck, arms. His eyes were closed, face scrunched, completely surrendered to joy.

Wooyoung felt something in his chest go warm and achingly soft. Because San alone was already too much sometimes - too lovely, too charming, too easy to love. 

But San surrounded by puppies? Smiling like that? Laughing like that? Lethal.

San tried to keep his laughter quiet, not wanting to disrupt the others, but his face flushed.

When San opened his eyes, finding Wooyoung’s gaze immediately, they held a conversation without a single word spoken, which was as natural as breathing for them.

'I’m so happy,' San’s eyes said.

'I’m so in love with you,' Wooyoung’s gaze replied.

Deember 2021

Wooyoung was fiddling with the loose threads in his ripped jeans again, tugging and twisting at them until new curls of fabric began to gather around his feet. He was fidgety with anxiety again. 

San leaned over the tripod where Wooyoung’s phone was mounted - set up and ready to start the recording. 

Before pushing the record button, San reached out and gently caught Wooyoung’s restless hand when he noticed him nervous. Wooyoung stilled when San brought him back into the moment from the array of his anxious thoughts.

“You’re gonna destroy your favorite pants soon.” 

Wooyoung followed his gaze downward and winced at the sight, what once looked artfully ripped now bordered on tragedy.

“They’re supposed to be ripped,” 

“Ripped or torn to shreds?” 

“It's a vibe, babe.” Wooyoung clicked his tongue, smoothing out the loose strings against his skin. “They’re supposed to look a little distressed.”

“They’re distressing me,” San shot back, and Wooyoung clicked his tongue before reluctantly releasing the thread.

With a small huff, he adjusted his black tee and shifted in the chair by the window, trying to settle into a position that felt natural. 

Finding a good place to record the cover had been far more of an ordeal than either of them expected. Every room in their new home had its own problem - too hollow, too echoey, too cramped, or too intimate to Wooyoung’s liking. So the tiny home office won by elimination. 

“You know what would look cool here?” San asked, checking the camera preview on his phone screen once more to frame the shot. “Fairy lights. The curtains look bland.”

Wooyoung scoffed at him, rolling his eyes at the persistence. “Add them to your Christmas wish list.”

“Already there, right at the top. Ready to go?”

Wooyoung hesitated, exhaling shakily as his shoulders rose and fell with the heavy breath. 

“Give me a minute. It’s been half a year since I’ve recorded anything.” He kept tossing his microphone from one hand to the other, a nervous tic he couldn't quite suppress. 

His first covers had been recorded on his phone alone, his voice echoing through the cramped space of his old dorm room. 

San whispered gently, “If you’re not ready, you don’t have to do this right now-” 

“I want to,” Wooyoung interrupted. “But I’m just stressed over nothing, I guess.”

“You don’t have to post if you won’t like it.”

“I know.”

“Then what are you scared of? Are you afraid the fans will suddenly hate you? That they'll come and scream at you in the comments for disappearing?” San teased.

“Oh, absolutely,” Wooyoung deadpanned. “They’ll even storm our apartment with pitchforks and torches if I miss a single note.”

The joke hung lightly in the air, but underneath it lay a fear Wooyoung rarely voiced. Wooyoung valued his privacy fiercely. He drew a thick, deliberate line between the version of himself he showed on stage and the version he kept at home. The world didn’t need to know who he was outside of his band’s music. 

For that very same reason, San remained his sweet little secret. Even when interviewers picked up on the mysterious ‘muse’ he mentioned now and then, he never gave away a name. San belonged to him - his to protect, his to cherish, his to keep safe from the harsher edges of the spotlight.

San snorted. “How would they even know where we live?”

“I’m sure someone could calculate our location based solely on the angle of the sun’s rays,” Wooyoung joked. 

Then he immediately shot a wary glance at the curtains, sudden alarm sparking in his eyes. 

“Maybe I should close them?”

“We’re on the sixth floor.”

“And?”

“The only thing anyone can see is the sky and the roofs of other buildings,” San assured him softly.

Wooyoung slumped back into the chair with a long exhale, limbs loose, shoulders heavy. 

“What are you really stressing over?” 

San watched him with that soft, painstakingly tender look in his eyes. The one that always made Wooyoung feel both loved and completely exposed. 

“Let’s talk it through, you’ll feel better.”

“The festival in Incheon got postponed,” Wooyoung began, grimacing at the words. “To the day before our anniversary. And we’re invited to some YouTube show we’d have to record the next day, and I just… I don’t think I’ll make it back to spend our anniversary together.”

“Were you worried I might be angry? Young-ah, don’t be ridiculous.”

Wooyoung shook his head, cheeks puffed. “It’s not that. I know you could never really be angry with me.”

“Unless you eat my dinner that I prepared specifically for after my workout.”

Wooyoung gasped at him. “That happened once! And it was your fault for not labeling it! For your information, it wasn’t even that good, you gym rats have questionable taste buds.”

“Labeling food? Are we back to living in a dorm? Am I your roommate or your boyfriend?” San whined, reaching behind him for the pillow he’d been leaning on, clearly ready to weaponize it. “Should I leave the laundry to you then, roomie?”

“No!” Wooyoung shrieked, ducking behind his forearms as the vicious pillow attack. “I’m sorry! I apologize! I won’t ever eat your cardboard food again. Anything but doing the laundry, please.”

San raised a brow, waiting for him to continue once he surrendered.

“We already had plans…” Wooyoung muttered, toe nudging the loose threads on the carpet. “I could call off the interview, but… I don’t know. It might be stupid.”

“We can move our plans to another day,” San interrupted gently, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “It’s really not a problem. Go do the interview.”

Wooyoung hummed. “I feel bad about it, though.”

“We can celebrate together whenever we want. We could go on a weekend trip if you want. We haven’t hiked in a while, how does that sound?”

“Lovely.” Wooyoung beamed at him. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” San answered simply. “Ready, roommate?” 

Wooyoung slid his earbuds in. The instrumental of the song he had chosen days ago began to play. For once, the decision of what to cover hadn’t taken him long. Ever since San became obsessed with the drama he was currently binging, the OST playing on repeat had filled their apartment nonstop. Wooyoung had been practicing the cover secretly at the studio after the band finished rehearsals, preparing it as a surprise for his boyfriend.

The moment the melody wrapped around him, everything outside the small corner of the room fell away. He straightened, inhaled, and let the music settle into his bones. 

He didn’t look at the camera, not once. He never did. 

Instead, his gaze locked onto San, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. San watched him with a relaxed, if slightly fond expression, a smile quietly reaching his eyes.

And Wooyoung sang only for him. Just like he had since the very first night they met.

September 2019

Wooyoung nervously tapped his fingers against his thigh. The leather material of his pants muted the sound, but it didn’t change the way Jongho glared at him, irritated. 

“What are you nervous for?” his friend asked, and only then did Wooyoung realize the nervous twitching. “First time performing?” 

Wooyoung chuckled at him, they both stopped counting which performance it was once they passed the number of twenty. 

Yunho hasn’t. He announced proudly, “Forty fifth, to be exact.” 

“I’m not nervous,” Wooyoung replied.

He flattened his palm, but then his heel, unable to be still, began tapping a louder sound against the concrete. Jongho scoffed at him.

“Just adrenaline kicking in,” Wooyoung shrugged.

He couldn’t help the nerves that kept him buzzing with a mix of excitement and tension over performing. He hadn’t yet gotten used to the anxious feeling that always flocked into his insides the moment their group stepped into the pub’s backroom to get ready for their performance.

The song performed by a band before them was slowly coming to an end. The dulled sound of music mixed with chatters of the crowd reached their room. Wooyoung twisted the rings on his fingers in a nervous manner.

The pub where they performed every Friday offered the opportunity for smaller artists, merely a humble stage, but it sufficed for the college kids.

The room was closer to a broom closet than a real backstage room meant for artists. It had its own charm, at least Wooyoung thought so. Yunho didn’t exactly agree with him, claiming that metal pipes under the ceiling, stains of unknown origin on the cement floor, and the single light bulb hanging from the ceiling on a wire - that looked like it was about to snap - weren't exactly charming. 

It would take a few more minutes for a clean-up after the previous band before Golden Hour could take over the stage, but Wooyoung was already close to pacing around the room. Before he could even get up from his seat, Hongjoong came in, geabbing his attention.

“Jongho, San’s here already, saw him on my way back from the toilets,” Hongjoong announced casually, before throwing himself on a sofa next to Yunho. “Said he has your wallet. I asked him to come here after the performance.”   

Jongho acknowledged it with a short nod. 

The words were directed to the other vocalist, but they didn’t fail to catch Wooyoung’s attention as well. His hand stopped bouncing on his knee, suddenly curious. 

Wooyoung cleared his throat, acting nonchalant as if he wasn’t nosy, not at all. 

“Who’s San?” 

“My roommate,” Jongho answered. “I forgot my bag from the library when I rushed here. He picked it up for me.” 

Wooyoung hummed, losing his interest right away. Well, he was expecting some more interesting story. Some bookworm of a roommate wasn’t really a topic worth dwelling on. 

The music outside has died, applause took over as the band finished their performance. Wooyoung sprang to his feet, bending over briefly to adjust the tight pants wrapped smugly around his thighs. His bracelet and chain made a soft clinging noise upon his movement, but it soon was muffled by the rustle of the rest of his bandmates getting ready to hop on the stage. 

“Everyone ready?” Wooyoung asked, briefly glancing around everyone as they stood in a circle - arms wrapped around each other in a final cheer. 

“Fuck yeah,” Yunho hissed, grinning to himself. “I was born ready.”

“Lame,” Jongho groaned. 

Yuho clung to Jongho’s back the entire way down the hallway leading to the stage, in some kind of punishment.

The space cleared out to serve as an impromptu stage by the corner of the pub wasn’t large, it wasn’t even elevated. Just an empty corner where two standing microphones, a space for the bassist and guitarist awaited them. 

Setting up, Wooyoung imagined how it would be for those big reflector lights to hit his face. But the pub was dressed in the soft glow of orange and purple lights. 

The moment he opened his eyes, a smile curved his lips. The crowd wasn’t enormous but it was given considering the limited space of the pub. He could already recognize a few of the faces there.

He leaned closer to the microphone, cocking his hip to the side, chatting with the crowd while he waited for Hongjoong and Yunho to adjust their instruments. 

Once they were ready, as soon as Yunho’s bass sounds started their opening song, Wooyoung entirely lost himself in the flow of the music. 

When he started singing, soon followed by Jongho’s vocal, a wave of goosebumps coated his skin. It was everything he needed by the end of a week of never-ending classes, the academic pressure melted away from his body as nothing else besides music mattered there on the stage. 

He’s fallen in love with the little corner of the world ever since he performed there for the first time with his band. 

Their group was anything but extraordinary, consisting of two freshmen and two sophomores burnt out from education, young adults who decided to chase their dream and start a band together. 

Nearly a year passed since then, Wooyung was now a sophomore along with Jongho, but not much had changed - music always came first for them, they only fell more and more in love with it. 

By the time the tunes of the R&B song they covered ebbed away, Wooyoung had calmed down, now entirely in his element. He waited for the applause to quiet down, taking a long sip of water before leaning closer to the microphone again.

“It’s good to be back,” he hummed, acting casual with the crowd as always. “Some of you might already know us. To those who don’t, we are ‘Golden Hour’.” His soft voice echoed around the room. “To my right, our strongest vocalist and our personal grumpy bear, Jongho.” 

He paused for the applause to come, doing the same when introducing everyone. 

“Our bassist who was born with a bass in his palms, Yunho.” 

Yunho strung a quick melody, bowing deep right after. 

“Our music genius with the fastest fingers and over-caffeinated brain, producer and guitarist, Hongjoong.” 

Hongjoong followed up with a guitar riff, a smirk on his lips as his fingers deftly danced across the neck of his electric guitar. 

“And I’m Wooyoung. Pleasure to be on the stage again. The next song is our new single, ‘Love again’, hope you enjoy!” 

It was maybe their third time performing the song live. They’d rehearsed it about a hundred times in the privacy of Wooyoung’s dorm room - his neighbours adored him. He let the music take over, body moving on instinct as he backed up Jongho’s vocals. Wooyoung swayed from side to side, nervous fingers pushing through his hair and further messing up his already shaggy cut.

As his gaze drifted over the crowd, his eyes snagged on someone, a man Wooyoung didn’t recognize, definitely not one of their usual fans. It didn’t stop him from attentively studying the stranger. 

Gods, what a sight. He could only make out the man’s upper body: a broad chest framed by a tight black shirt with a neckline that dipped far too low to be fair, high cheekbones, and a sharp, deliberate stare that almost made Wooyoung’s knees give out.

That stare didn’t waver. The man’s eyes traced Wooyoung’s figure where the dim lights caught on his movements, following every line and shift like he was watching something meant only for him. He hardly blinked, just watched, intent and unashamed.

The song ended before Wooyoung fully registered it, the last notes slipping by while he spent the entire performance laser-focused on the nameless man. He felt his cheeks heating up.

Only Jongho clearing his throat, not subtle at all, snapped him back to reality. 

Right. He had a performance to finish.

It was a shame that they only got no more than ten minutes each week. He refocused back on the performance, drawing back full attention to their last song, a cover of a slower but guitar-heavy song. 

“What was that?” Yunho teased as they left the stage after saying their goodbyes. 

“What?” Wooyoung asked, glaring at his friend. 

Yunho slung an arm around his shoulders, following Jongho and Hongjoong back to their room. 

“You zoned out and missed your line during our song,” Yunho laughed. 

He did that? Wooyoung’s eyebrows rose rapidly. He didn’t even notice. “I- Really?” A blush of embarrassment crept up his neck.

“Jongho quickly took over so I don’t think anyone noticed.”

The heat crawled up only further. He groaned, hiding his face in his palms.

“We did notice, though,” Hoongjoong sneered. 

The four of them fell back on their spots, Hongjoong on a low stool, while the loveseat sofa was occupied by Jongho and Yunho. Wooyoung hesitated only for a brief moment before taking a spot on Yunho’s lap.

“What got you acting like that?” Yunho asked. 

“Uh. Jitters?” Wooyoung tried.

“Is Jitters someone’s name?” Jongho sing-sang, not missing a chance to tease Wooyoung. He crossed his legs, sprawling in his seat. “Because I certainly saw you eye-fucking someone in the crowd. I’m not sure who, though.”

“Fuck off,” Wooyoung flipped him off, ears burning up.

Yunho cooed softly at him, arms now circling his waist in a grip that could be considered fond - had only Wooyoung not known it was to trap him until he’d confess.

“Someone got a crush?” Hongjoong taunted. “Come on, Youngie, don’t be like that. Share with your friends.” 

“I’m not telling you anything,” Wooyoung groaned. “I don't trust you, snakes.”

“Ha, but you didn’t deny having a crush,” Yunho chuckled at him. “Already?”

“I-” Wooyoung sighed, knowing he was defeated already. There was nothing to lose anyway, he probably wouldn’t see the person ever again. “Okay, there was someone hot. Scorching hot. Like, Lucifer level hot. Type that wants you to get in trouble hot-”

“We got your point,” Jongho waved his hand. “Who, though?”

“Well, I don’t know.” Wooyoung shrugged. “It’s not like he had his name written across his forehead. So a nameless stranger that I wish to get my hands on, but already lost my chance to do so, he remains.” 

Wooyoung jerked upon a sudden knocking, trying to get off Yunho’s lap, thinking it must be the cleaner who needed to grab a mop or something, but Yunho held him firmly in place.

“Must be San,” Hongjoong hummed before getting up to open the door. “Hi, come in.” 

He stepped aside, revealing the boring-bookworm-Jongho’s roommate who in reality turned out to be the nameless-stranger-Wooyoung-needed-like-desperately. 

Well, not so nameless anymore.

Wooyoung right away straightened his back, and Yunho eyed him with a reverent suspicion.

“Hey,” San greeted them in a small voice, eyes darting between the band members before finally landing on Wooyoung. 

And staying there.

Wooyoung only flushed harder, voice caught in his throat.

The moment he flashed a dimpled smile when their eyes met - soft, but just sharp enough around the edges to feel intentional - Wooyoung knew he was done for. San’s gaze skimmed down for the briefest second as if taking him in, then flicked back up with a quiet confidence that made Wooyoung’s breath hitch.

“Well, you already know Jongho-” Hongjoong began.

“Obviously,” the vocalist murmured.

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. “And that’s Yunho and Wooyoung.” 

Confusion on San’s face made him add, “Wooyoung on top of Yunho, to be exact.”

Wooyoung felt like disappearing at the moment, heat blooming all the way to his ears. He batted Yunho’s hands away from his waist, regaining his footing when his friend finally let him go. He straightened quickly, smoothing out the material of his silk black shirt. 

And if he adjusted it just enough so the neckline dipped a little lower, exposing just enough chest to tip the balance in his favor - well, that was between him and San.

And the smugness that rose in him when he caught San’s gaze very blatantly slipping down again, lingering for a heartbeat too long, was absolutely deserved.

“Nice to meet you all.” San rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking shy. “Here’s your bag,” he said to Jongho, tossing the tote toward him.

“I owe you one,” Jongho thanked him, rummaging inside. His eyes narrowed. “Hey, where’s my lunch?”

“I got hungry.” San winked cheekily. “I’ll get going now… I really enjoyed your show, by the way.”

“We’re going to grab a drink, you could join us if you want,” Yunho suggested. “I’m sure it’s going to be fun. Jongho told us a lot about you.”

Wooyoung stared at him, concerned, clearly not recalling any moment in which the topic of Jongho’s apparently hot-jacked roommate had ever been brought up. 

“If I won’t be a bother,” San said.

“Nonsense.” “Yeah, join us,” Hongjoong and Jongho said at the same time.

Only Wooyoung stayed silent, his throat a little too dry from the way San was waiting - eyes fixed on him like he needed Wooyoung’s answer most of all.

Wooyoung clasped his hands together, flashing a charming smile. “Alright, let’s go.”

And the way San’s lips curled at the corners, slow and approving, nearly sent Wooyoung straight into the floor.

November 2019

“Wooyoung?” Hongjoong called.

Wooyoung’s attention didn’t divert to the guitarist, instead, kept on the game San was playing on his phone. The loveseat was taken by the two of them, but looking at how Wooyoung was glued to San’s side there could be a third person squeezed. 

Not that anyone wanted to willingly put themselves next to the two. 

“Wooyoung!” Hongjoong whined, irritation sharpening his voice like he was one second away from snapping. “Come on, break’s over. Get your ass over here, grab your mic so we can move on with rehearsals.”

Wooyoung only grumbled in response, looping his arms around San’s biceps and resting his chin on San’s shoulder. He peeked over, curious. “Shh, Sannie is about to break his previous record.”

Subway Surfers. The record was really important.

If he’d bothered to look up, he would’ve caught the murderous glare Hongjoong was throwing his way, and Yunho’s entertained one. 

Yunho leaned back, cackling around the lollipop in his mouth.

“Ya, Hongjoong is about to break your neck, Young-ah.”

Wooyoung pouted dramatically, finally dropping his hold on San and trudging toward the mic, whining loud enough to ensure everyone knew just how mistreated he felt.

Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose. “Someone remind me why exactly we need two vocalists before I lose it.”

“Hey!” Wooyoung snapped back. “I formed this band!”

He adjusted the height of the mic stand. The main room of the pub was empty at this early hour - one of the perks of Hongjoong’s friend being the manager and letting them in before opening.

This had been their routine for months now: meeting every Wednesday to practice new covers for their Friday slot. 

Yet, somehow everything felt different since San had started showing up. They had all clicked with him almost immediately. Jongho had appeared one afternoon with San trailing behind him, claiming the guy had ‘clung to him all the way here.’ No one complained, they’d even adopted him on the spot like an unofficial fifth member.

Wooyoung had clicked with him immediately too, he’d felt that connection the very first night they met. On their way back to the dorms, San ended up staying at Wooyoung’s room, and the two of them talked the night away, topic after topic pouring out until dawn threatened the window.

Ever since, they've acted like old friends. They had mini sing-offs while waiting for the rest of the band to arrive, their voices echoing in the empty rehearsal room. It usually turned into a chaos of San’s growls and Wooyoung’s failed attempts at Jongho’s high notes, but it was endearing, painfully so. They’d started meeting at their university cafeteria as well. 

San had been shy around him at first, but the moment Wooyoung cracked that shell, the playful, mischievous side of him came pouring out. 

Wooyoung found himself craving it more and more - the teasing jokes, the laughter, the warmth. It was addicting.

He was attracted to him. How could he not be? San was the walking definition of Wooyoung’s type, there was no point in denying that, like some half-embarrassing wet dream brought to life. 

Wooyoung hoped he wasn’t imagining that he wasn’t indifferent to San, too. Because everything so far suggested that neither of their intentions were purely platonic. It felt like only a matter of time before Cupid’s arrow finished the job, and Wooyoung was more than ready for it.

The band went through the last two songs quickly, finalizing the details. One was a new cover they wanted to debut next week - the other, an unreleased original. At one point Wooyoung caught San’s gaze locked on him, unwavering, and he barely held back a smile that would’ve been audible in his voice. He was truly, completely gone.

“I think we’re good for today,” Hongjoong said, setting down his guitar before unhooking the cables. He hissed when he checked the time on his phone. “Fuck, I’m going to be late for class, thanks Wooyoung.”

“No problem!”

“I can give you a ride,” Yunho offered. “I’m heading there anyway. I need a book for my paper.”

Wooyoung took the last sip of the coffee San had bought him earlier. 

They’d agreed to meet at the café by the subway before heading to the pub together. Wooyoung had come straight from his lectures, that he had spent mostly whining through and texting San anyway. He was whining how tired he was and how desperately he wanted to curl under a blanket and nap for the rest of the day. But his sour mood had vanished the moment San handed him his favorite drink. Wooyoung had gone downright giddy, realizing San had paid attention to his orders whenever they grabbed coffee together, enough to memorize it and get every tiny detail right. 

Cute, charming, sweet… it all didn’t even begin to cover how San was. He’d even risked leaning in and pecking San’s cheek in thanks. It wasn’t scandalous by Wooyoung’s standards, skinship with friends wasn’t something he shied away from. But the flutter in his chest when his lips brushed San’s soft, cold-kissed skin, the whiff of his cologne so close… 

It’d hit differently. It lasted barely a second, yet left them both flustered. 

“You promised to help me with recording the cover,” Wooyoung reminded Yunho, putting on his jacket. 

“Ah, fuck.” Yunho hissed. “Can we postpone it a bit? I can drop by later today after I’m done with my paper.”

“Or maybe I could help.”

Wooyoung’s eyes snapped to San, his phone turned off, facing the couch. He toyed with the strings of his hoodie, acting casual, but the hopeful eyes pointed at Wooyoung made him feel things. Tingly things dancing at the pit of his stomach.

“You don't even realize what you've gotten yourself into-” Jongho started, but Wooyoung cut him off.

“Sannie! That'd be amazing!” Wooyoung exclaimed. “I'll grab my things and we can go.”

🌷

“How long have you been doing this?” San asked as Wooyoung wrestled with his tripod.

He glanced over at San, who was comfortably sprawled across Wooyoung’s bed, clearly waiting for him to finish the setup. San didn’t have any experience with recording gear and couldn’t offer much help. Turns out San had offered to assist despite not even knowing how to adjust a stand.

“What exactly?” Wooyoung hummed, fingers flexing with mild irritation as he fought with one of the screws that always, always came loose.

“Posting covers,” San said, grabbing a pillow and hugging it tightly to his chest.

Wooyoung let a moment of silence stretch between them, moving around the room, adjusting last details. He switched on the fairy lights strung above his bed and turned off the main lamp. The tiny space transformed instantly, washed in a dim, warm glow that made everything feel a little softer.

“I don’t post them,” Wooyoung finally admitted. He set up his phone on the tripod, camera already open and waiting.

San blinked. “Then why…?”

“I record them for myself,” Wooyoung replied, settling into a calmer tone. “To monitor how I can improve. My vocal teacher taught me that trick when I was younger, and it kind of grew on me.”

He smiled to himself at the memory. Rewatching old videos always filled him with a quiet pride, hearing how his voice had changed, how he’d gotten better over the years, reminded him why he kept trying. One day, maybe, he’d make his dream of becoming a full-time singer real.

“I’m still too self-conscious to share them with anyone,” he confessed softly. “Maybe one day I will.”

San stared at him, unblinking. “I’m sure people would love you,” he said. “You really have a beautiful voice.”

Wooyoung clicked his tongue, trying - and failing - to mask the flush creeping up his neck. He walked over to San and patted his butt once, then again, before shooing him upright.

“Shoo. Go behind the phone,” he said, climbing onto the bed himself, sitting cross-legged.

“What am I supposed to do?” San asked, eyeing the device warily. “Just press the button? Or… what do you need me for exactly?” 

“About the time you ask. Singing alone feels…” Wooyoung winced, letting his hands fall into his lap. He toyed with the rings on his fingers, twisting them nervously. “Lonely. I like having someone to focus on. Most of the time it’s Hongjoong, if I pester him long enough, he gives in.” He giggled. “Just be there with me.”

San’s gaze softened instantly. “Alright, I can do that," he said quietly. “Are you ready?”

Wooyoung reached for his laptop, clicked play on the instrumental track, and nodded at San to start recording.

As the soft guitar intro filled the room, Wooyoung let out a breath, closing his eyes briefly to sink into the rhythm.

When he opened his eyes on the first verse, the air punched out of his lungs. San was watching him. Not just casually, not like someone listening to a friend sing. 

San watched him with an intensity Wooyoung had experienced only once - the night they met. His focus didn’t waver, his eyes held a gleam of something unreadable, something deeper, something that filled Wooyoung’s chest with warm, terrifying emotions he didn’t yet have names for.

When the outro faded into silence, San paused the recording.

Wooyoung cleared his throat once, quiet, hesitant. 

“How was it?”

“I really love your voice,” San said immediately. 

Wooyoung looked down, cheeks heating up, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His heart was being played with, and he was letting it happen, enjoying every second of it.

“You shouldn’t throw that around so casually,” he muttered.

San raised an eyebrow. “Then how should I say it?”

“I don’t know, warn a man before you decide to swoon him.”

San smirked. “Attention, Jung Wooyoung, you’re officially being flirted with. Proceed with caution.”

Wooyoung scoffed, even as his heart skipped a beat. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I mean it, though.”

“What? Flirting?” Wooyoung’s brows lifted. “I’d hope so.” His voice came out lighter than he intended. 

Wooyoung was used to flirting with his friends in a casual, affectionate way, it was simply how he showed love. But with San, he wanted the flirting to mean something. He wanted each teasing remark to land somewhere real and intentional.

“Yeah, that too,” San said, licking his lips before shifting in his seat. “But I really think you should post the cover. You sound amazing. And hey, maybe it could help your band grow. Attract new fans.”

Wooyoung only shrugged, unsure. The idea of putting himself out there made his stomach twist. It was definitely harder than performing on the pub stage, where he already knew what to expect. Their audience rarely expressed any disapproval - the environment was familiar and safe.

Posting himself online was a whole different battlefield. It meant exposing himself to criticism he wouldn’t be able to avoid. People could get mean, brutally so. He’d seen enough of that on social media to know it wasn’t a hypothetical threat.

“I’ll think about it,” he said softly. “Thank you for helping me.”

"I didn't really do anything," San giggled. At that moment, Wooyoung felt like he wanted to listen to that sound forever. “But I’m happy I got to spend more time with you.” 

An endeared smile bloomed on his face, as he held San’s gaze. He wondered if he was currently looking at San the same way he did at him. If so, they were already so gone. 

“You really know a way to a man's heart,” Wooyoung smirked, leaning back on his hands, watching San’s slightly flustered reaction. “I might consider permanently replacing Hongjoong with you.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be absolutely devastated.” He grinned. Wooyoung’s chest warmed at how easy it felt to fall into this rhythm with him, like they’d been doing it for years already.

🌷

When the night fell, and Wooyoung was left alone with his overwhelming feelings, his heart was beating rapidly in his chest as he watched the recording on his phone. He was wrapped tightly in his favorite blanket that now carried San’s scent. The warmth of the fabric surrounding him only seemed to deepen the shade of his blush across his cheeks. For the entire duration of that cover, his eyes never once turned away from San on the screen. Out of frame, San remained a beautiful, captivating secret only Wooyoung was privy to.

By the utterly vulnerable look he had on his face while singing the song directly to San, a look that felt far too raw to be accidental, Wooyoung realized one thing with startling, almost painful clarity, an awareness that made his breath catch.

He was utterly, completely gone for him.

January 2020

The list of things Wooyoung disliked was not necessarily extensive. 

No, scratch that. It wasn't about the length of the list, but the intensity. Wooyoung harbored strong, burning feelings over the few unfortunate items that managed to claw their way onto his personal blacklist.

Cucumbers, for starters. They never ceased to trigger his gag reflex just by looking at a slice hiding treacherously in a store-bought sandwich. Why anyone bothered to use them remained one of the universe's greatest mysteries to him, especially when they tasted of nothing but water and sheer disappointment. They were a culinary crime.

Then, don’t even get him started on Subway Line Number 2, especially during the hellscape that was Monday morning rush hour. To his absolute despair, this specific line was the only one directly connecting their dormitory with the southern part of the city, where he often had to go. 

By the time the train arrived at his station, it was always already packed to the brim, forcing him to endure the dehumanizing experience of being squashed like a sardine in a tin can. He held a particularly strong, venomous opinion about the people who refused to take their backpacks off, letting them relentlessly slam into his ribs with every sudden brake. Truly, a cursed line.

But nothing, absolutely nothing, ranked higher on his hate list than snow.

Cold and wet, quite possibly the worst combination known to man. There was nothing to like about it, no ‘winter magic’ brought like some delusional people claimed. He certainly did not feel like a princess in a fairytale, watching the white fluff drift aimlessly from the sky to blanket the streets and shone under the streetlamps.

To him, it was just frozen water ready to ruin his day. It brought only misery. The flakes somehow always managed to find a way to fall directly into his eye, even when his hood was tightly pulled and fastened around his face like a hazmat suit. 

Usually, the moment he noticed the first speck of white drifting down from the gray sky, he would vanish. In the blink of an eye, he’d be wrapped securely under his duvet, refusing to leave the safety of his warm, dry bed for anything less than a fire alarm.

So, don’t ask him how he ended up here - shivering violently, with the hem of his pants already drenched and freezing against his ankles because he’d stepped into a slushy heap of snow. Don't ask why he was traversing the crowded Winter Fair when he could be home. 

He’d be too embarrassed to admit the simple, glaring truth. The sole reason he had agreed to this spontaneous, frosty outing was currently walking right next to him. 

San was smiling brightly, deep dimples carved into his cheeks, his eyes sparkling as they reflected the decorative golden lights strung up above the street. His nose and cheeks were dusted pink from the biting cold, looking so devastatingly endearing that Wooyoung almost forgot his freezing toes.

“It’s so romantic here,” San whispered in awe, his voice barely audible over the noise of the bustling crowd. “I wish it was snowing now, it would make the atmosphere even better.” San said, stepping forward as the line they were standing in shortened.

Wooyoung held back a disgruntled grumble of disagreement, his gloves were hardly managing against the biting chill. Shivering violently, he nuzzled further into the collar of his jacket, cursing himself for leaving his scarf at home.

“Do you think everything is romantic?” Wooyoung giggled softly, watching San as he paid for hot chocolate for the two of them. “You said the same thing when you found an old book when we were at the library together. It was just a textbook.”

San narrowed his eyes at him. 

“Because it was romantic! There were those annotations someone made with a pencil, they must have been decades old. And then beneath them, some fresh ones made with a ballpen as someone responded. Don’t you think it’s romantic that two people could have a conversation despite such a significant passage of time?” 

He handed Wooyoung a steaming cup, their fingers brushing momentarily. 

“Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Wooyoung accepted it, a wave of relief washing over him when the heat immediately jolted him through his fingertips.

They walked slowly through different sections of the Fair, exploring an area dedicated to the magic of lights. Rows of spotlights illuminated the surrounding buildings, projecting images of snowflakes, while the leafless trees were heavily draped with led garlands, making the space feel a little more magical than usual.

“I’m just not sure whether romantic is the right word,” Wooyoung continued. “It’s nice.”

Wooyoung sipped on the cocoa, hoping the drink would quickly warm him up as he felt the nearly boiling liquid slide down his throat. However, it didn’t stop him from shivering violently when an icy breeze swept past them. San looked at him with concern, though his worry was momentarily tinged with a hesitancy. 

They moved forward, past an ice rink where people were happily skating. Wooyoung noticed many couples spending time together on dates, so visibly in love it was almost palpable.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he could count this evening with San as a date, too.

There was certainly nothing strange about the two of them spending time together, during the four months they had known each other, it happened more often than not. They felt comfortable in each other’s company, Wooyoung didn’t feel like he needed any social battery to meet with San, because with him, everything felt just right, it was that easy. They could laugh for hours until their stomachs hurt; they could fall into meaningless conversations about anything and everything; they could spend time together in silence, both doing their own thing, without feeling uncomfortable about the stillness.

Wooyoung so often felt like their outings were actual dates, but neither of them was brave enough to admit it out loud.

Still, he couldn’t stop tumbling the thought over and over in his head that San hadn’t invited anyone else this evening, just Wooyoung. Saying the moment was romantic, too, like he didn't realize what it was doing to Wooyoung’s heart.

“Isn’t it? I feel like it just captures the vibe. It’s stupid, but I just feel it.” San was looking at him like the Fair was merely a decoration in the background and Wooyoung was the only thing that mattered.

Wooyoung matched the lightness of his gaze, looking at San.

“It’s not stupid,” Wooyoung was quick to deny, his voice soft and sincere. “I like it about you, you know.” Wooyoung shrugged slightly, looking straight ahead because he wasn’t sure if he could meet San’s curious and intense gaze right now. “You feel so much, you can focus on the beauty even in the littlest of things that I fail to notice. It’s an admirable quality.”

It really shows the beauty of you, Wooyoung wanted to say, but he held back, thinking it was far too intense for a friend to admit.

“Sometimes it gets too intense,” San whispered, his voice barely louder than the snow crunching beneath their boots. “And then I start worrying that I feel too much. More than I should.” 

The way he said it, so softly and carefully, paired with the way his gaze dropped to Wooyoung’s lips, left little room to interpret his words as anything other than what they were. 

Wooyoung quickly finished the rest of his now semi-warm drink, draining the paper cup. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, forcing the sound out, because if he let himself follow the direction this conversation was taking, he would absolutely lose his mind. “Well, I’m sure that big, muscly body of yours has plenty of space for a whole lot of feelings.”

“Yah! I’m trying to be all sappy here and you have to be such a prude.” San laughed, stopping abruptly in his tracks.

At first, Wooyoung didn’t look back, quietly giggling under his breath, fully aware that San would catch up to him in a moment anyway. That was until he suddenly felt crystals of ice slip past the collar of his coat, immediately melting against his skin and making him shriek from the sudden, icy assault. He whirled around right away, just in time to be met with the sight of San crouching low and forming another perfectly round snowball, unmistakably dedicated to Wooyoung.

“You fucker!” Wooyoung hissed, sprinting to hide behind a bush and arm himself with snow. “What was that for?”

“I'm only putting my big, muscly body to good use,” San quipped, dodging Wooyoung's first clumsy toss.

“Out of all the ways you could make me wet, you chose this one?!” Wooyoung shrieked, laughing breathlessly as they exchanged snowballs, alternately chasing each other around the quieter part of the Fair.

“Wooyoung-ah!” San groaned, scandalized by his bold remark, but the bright laughter ringing in his tone.

Wooyoung felt breathless as he chased San - chased his smile, chased the warmth of his laughter. 

By the time they finally called a truce, his gloves were completely soaked, and both of them were panting, red-cheeked from exertion and grinning like fools as they came to a stop facing each other.

Something cold landed on the tip of Wooyoung’s nose.

San gasped and looked up, and sure enough, delicate snowflakes were beginning to fall around them. He slowly licked his lips, that wide grin blooming across his face, dimples popping out like they always did when he was overflowing with joy.

It took everything in Wooyoung not to rise on his toes and kiss him. 

Watching the delicate crystals cling to the soft curves of San's face, Wooyoung was envious of the snowflakes that got to kiss San’s cheeks. It should have been his lips tracing the same path, melting the cold away.

But his body, overheated from running, reacted poorly to the sudden drop in temperature. A shiver ran through him, his teeth beginning to chatter. San immediately glanced back at him, the same worry from earlier returning to his expression. Within seconds, he was already reaching for his scarf.

“What are you-” Wooyoung began, but before he could argue that San shouldn’t make himself cold for his sake, warm fabric wrapped around his neck, stealing the words right from his tongue.

He simply melted on the spot. The scarf, heated from San’s skin, smelled intensely like him, so comforting. San wrapped it around him gently, making sure not a sliver of skin was left exposed, his fingers smoothing the wool with ease. 

They were standing only a breath apart.

As San tugged the scarf to secure it, Wooyoung instinctively stepped closer, their chests brushing. He held San’s gaze while the other looked him over with an expression that was far too soft for Wooyoung’s heart to handle. San even reached out to tuck a damp strand of hair behind Wooyoung’s ear, and Wooyoung wondered desperately if the thick wool of the scarf would be enough to muffle the high-pitched squeak that threatened to escape him.

“We should head back before you catch a cold,” San murmured, sounding like he regretted saying it.

Wooyoung did too, but he had to agree, nodding obediently.

Turning to leave the Fair, snugly wrapped in San’s scarf, with his hand finding its way deep into San’s jacket pocket to warm his frozen fingers, holding hands, Wooyoung decided right then and there that he no longer hated the snow.

January 2022

“Thank you for your time, we’ll contact you by the end of the week,” Wooyoung repeated the same line he had recited all morning. He bit back the frustration creeping into his voice.

“Any questions?” Hongjoong asked the candidate across from them.

The man darted his gaze between all four members, visibly flustered. “Can I take a photo with you?” he muttered.

Wooyoung sank back into his seat, mentally scratching him off the list. Absolutely not. The last thing they needed was a fan masquerading as a manager. They needed someone reliable.

“Who’s next?” Yunho groaned as he stood, loosening the cuffs of his cream shirt before heading to call the next applicant.

Wooyoung took a sip of water, eyes scanning the list. “Park Seonghwa?”

Jongho hummed, closing his eyes and pressing fingers to his temples. 

“I have a good feeling about him. He’s my pick.”

“He better be our final pick as well. I’m so damn tired,” Hongjoong muttered, straightening his back until it cracked. “How can scouting be so hard?”

“Maybe we’re doing something wrong.” Wooyoung rested his head on his hands. “Jongho said it should be all about the right vibes and… what was the other thing?”

“Aura,” Jongho supplied proudly. “Trust me on this. The guy walking in next? Our manager.”

“You’re betting our future on some internet trend?” Hongjoong shot him a look. “Why? Because he’s got the orange or pink aura you’re obsessed with?”

Wooyoung was too exhausted to join in, so he simply pulled out his phone when Yunho disappeared to get Seonghwa, quickly texting San that he’d be late.

“No,” Jongho said with a smug grin. “I stalked his Instagram.”

Wooyoung scoffed, quickly sitting up straight the moment Seonghwa walked through the door.

“Hi, please take a seat,” Wooyoung offered.

Seonghwa bowed politely and took the chair opposite them, posture straight but not stiff. He set a neat folder on the table, actual printed documents, something no other candidate had bothered with. A little over the top, but the effort was appreciated, he must be taking the offer seriously.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” he said, voice calm, steady. “I know your schedule must be tight.” 

Jongho shot the other members a look that screamed See? Aura. I told you. 

Wooyoung unfortunately had to agree that he carried an undeniable elegance in his every move. He appreciated the carefully chosen outfit, the suit that was crisp and perfectly tailored to his frame - San’s attention to such details grew on Wooyoung, making him notice things like this now.

Hongjoong cleared his throat, slipping back into professional mode. “Shall we start with something simple? Tell us why you’re interested in managing our group.”

“You have potential that hasn’t been fully utilized yet,” he said plainly. “Your music is strong, I’ve seen you gaining momentum that doesn’t leave much room for slacking, but it's rather hectic now, isn't it?” 

Wooyoung blinked. It was a brutal, but accurate, assessment.

Yunho hummed, “That sounds like a lot of work.”

Jongho leaned forward, scanning the papers in front of them. “I saw in your CV that you’ve already managed a soloist career. Is that true?”

Seonghwa nodded. “Yes. I managed Lee Ryujin for two years. She shifted her focus to acting recently, so our partnership naturally ended. But during that time I gained solid experience, and more importantly, industry connections.”

“Do you think you could handle it by yourself?” Wooyoung asked uncertainly, being the most conscious of the workload.

“Yes.” Seonghwa met his eyes, smiling politely. He opened his folder, sliding a paper forward. “This is a sample two-month schedule based on your last release cycle. I reorganized it to minimize burnout and maximize visibility. And here-” He placed another page in front of them. “A possible plan of promotion cycle if we could get you signed under a label.”

They all leaned in. Even Wooyoung’s brows shot up. “Signing under a label?”

This so far has been their dream that everyone secretly kept in their hearts but was too afraid to reach for it. Wooyoung was genuinely speechless.

“I think it could be a good force to push you forward.” 

Undeniably, the five of them must have felt the shift in the room, the relief that flooded over them, the certainty that they could trust Seonghwa with their future.

Jongho tilted his head knowingly at Wooyoung. Aura.

Yunho exhaled. “Do you have any questions for us?”

“Yes,” Seonghwa said without hesitation. “What do you expect from your manager? I want to make sure I can match them.”

He exchanged a glance with the others, and he knew their decision was sealed.

February 2022

catboy

did you sleep well?

Wooyoung bit back the smile forming on his lips as he typed in a response.

tireeeed

the festival ended so late

yunho wanted to stay until the last performance

he bribed me with free food

catboy

i watched the livestream 

you did amazing, love

wish i could have been there with you

🖤 next time 

and your boss doesn’t get any say in it

i’m draggin you with me

catboy

haha

sure, can’t wait to get abducted

when’s the recording starting?

He chewed on his lower lip, considering how to craft a reply sly enough to fly under the radar and not raise San’s suspicions. 

The band had been scheduled to film a variety show for YouTube, but due to some logistical hiccups, the shoot had been pushed back to the next day. 

His friends, Seonghwa included, were still lounging back in Incheon, enjoying a rare, well-deserved day off within the comforts of their hotel. Meanwhile, Wooyoung had quietly slipped away, catching the first morning train back to Seoul just so he could spend their anniversary with San.

He was absolutely determined to keep the whole operation a surprise.

He’d only just walked through the door of their apartment, dropping his bags with a sigh. 

It was already hovering around noon, and the clock was ticking. He didn’t have much time left to prepare the romantic at-home date he’d planned. 

Initially, he had seriously considered booking a table at a high-end restaurant, the kind of fancy dinner with candlelight that San would no doubt love. Wooyoung had even scrolled through a list of top-rated spots a few days ago while on the road to Incheon, but against his original plans, he decided to take matters into his own hands and prepare the date himself. 

It had only been four days spent away from San, but they were eye-opening. Wooyoung realized that after spending so many nights falling asleep with San’s warmth beside him, he simply no longer knew how to function alone. He’d spent the first night at the hotel tossing and turning in the cold sheets, which was kind of embarrassing to admit, until he eventually gave up and snuck into Yunho’s bed to cuddle just to get some rest. 

The countless nights he’d spent in San’s dorm room, or San in his, had apparently made him develop some severe attachment issues. 

So, had they gone to a public restaurant like Wooyoung originally planned, he probably would have spent most of the date glued to San’s side anyway, unable to keep his hands to himself. 

To be fair, Wooyoung couldn’t remember many days in the last two years that he’d actually spent without San. Ever since the moment they met, they had been inseparable, even spending major holidays together with their families. It had become a tradition, when they often traveled for Chuseok to visit Wooyoung’s family, while spending the Lunar New Year with San’s parents, and sometimes catching up with his sister when she had time to visit.

Wooyoung texted back: 

soon

hojongie is getting his makeup done, i’m next

miss you

call you later, yeah?

catboy

alright~

say it back

catboy

what

that you miss me too

catboy

of course i do

but you always call me simp when i say it

because you are

my sweet simp 

my little himbo

catboy

i’m not little

wait

no

oh i KNOW

babe no

don’t even think about making a dick joke right now

🙄

you’re no fun

catboy

i love you too

now go get pretty

are you saying i’m not already?

on our anniversary

you’re calling me ugly

aish

all men do is bring disappointments

catboy

so dramatic for what

go get dolled up my prettiest love, my sweet wooyoungie, the light of my life, my bro 💖💗🥰💞

🍆🍑😩👉👌💦 bro

catboy

i’m blocking you🥰

Wooyoung giggled to himself, slipping his phone into his pocket with a satisfied smirk. He rushed into the kitchen, determined to prepare San’s absolute favorite dinner before the clock ran out.

He worked quickly, his knife rhythmically hitting the cutting board as he chopped meat and veggies. He couldn't help but laugh softly at the ratio on the counter - a growing, mountainous pile of meat contrasted by a sad, little stack of carrots and spinach that he was almost sure San would pick out and leave on the side of his plate anyway. 

He hummed a happy, upbeat tune, his excitement overflowing him, just waiting for San to get back from work. By the time he was done cooking, the whole apartment was filled with a rich, mouth-watering aroma of spices and savory sauce that made his own stomach grumble.

“Ah, I know,” he sighed, gently patting his belly to soothe it. “But we have to wait.”

A quick, frantic glance at the clock sent him scrambling to set the table. San should be walking through the door in about an hour. 

He dug through the back of a junk drawer, rattling through loose cutlery, until he found an old pair of candleholders - a little dusty, but perfect for tonight. He honestly didn’t remember where they had even come from, but if he had to guess, they were either a housewarming gift from San’s mom or the result of one of Wooyoung’s random, late-night online shopping sprees when he was decor-hunting months ago.

He yanked the curtains closed in a hurry, plunging the room into dimness and aiming for the most cliché, over-the-top romantic atmosphere he could possibly achieve. 

The final touch was the bouquet of flowers he placed in the center of the table. He’d noticed them the moment he entered the apartment earlier, and his heart had melted into a puddle when he realized that San had bought fresh tulips even while Wooyoung had been away from home. They were a beautiful, vibrant red this time. It was impossible not to fall for him more and more each day when he did things like that.

With a little time still to spare, Wooyoung decided that playing with makeup wouldn’t kill him. If anything, it might kill San. His boyfriend had always loved a sharp edge to Wooyoung’s styling, and he’d been absolutely crazy over Wooyoung’s look back when they first met in college. That grunge aesthetic, with the shaggy wolf-cut, always wearing heaps of silver jewelry and heavy dark eyeliner. 

Done with the look for tonight, Wooyoung was only missing his old haircut, but his refreshed, vibrant red hair might steal San’s breath well enough on its own. Paired with a swipe of smudged, dark eyeliner? Definitely worth the extra effort.

San came home soon after Wooyoung was ready. His gaze drifted over the shoes by the door until it landed on a specific pair - Wooyoung’s shoes - and his brows furrowed in adorable confusion.

Wooyoung caught the way San seemed a bit dimmed, his usual brightness dampened by exhaustion evident in the slump of his shoulders, and seeing him like that made Wooyoung’s chest tighten with worry.

San stood with his back to the living room, mechanically toeing off his shoes and setting his bag down on the shoe cabinet. It was only when he was hanging his dark coat on the rack that his eyes finally met Wooyoung’s reflection in the mirror. Wooyoung offered him a soft smile, and San spun around quickly.

“Young-ah?” he croaked, his voice rough with surprise, his feet still glued to the spot.

He took his sweet time examining him, staring as if he didn't quite believe his own eyes. He blinked once, then twice, searching Wooyoung’s face with a puzzled frown marring his handsome features. 

Wooyoung laughed warmly at his flustered state, teasing, “Unless you have a second boyfriend that’s as handsome as me?” 

San’s shock melted into a smile, and with quick, eager steps, he closed the distance between them. His hands immediately found Wooyoung’s waist, pulling him in, while the latter interlaced his fingers behind San’s neck. The look on San’s face matched Wooyoung’s - just as fond, just as loving. 

“Of course I don’t. But I got scared you might be a ghost.” 

To dispel his doubts once and for all, Wooyoung rose up on his tiptoes to kiss San. He felt all the tension and stress of the past few days melt away from his body instantly, working like a charm. San hugged him closer, deepening the contact, determined to keep kissing him as if to prove he was solid.

Wooyoung cupped San’s cheek, pecking him once before resting his forehead against San’s. 

He breathed against San’s lips, whispering, “Am I?”

San hummed low in his throat. 

“I’m not certain. You’d have to kiss me again so I can decide.”

Wooyoung laughed at him but complied without hesitation. 

He then buried himself in San’s embrace, snuggling close while San wrapped his arms tightly around Wooyoung’s shoulders, refusing to let go. 

San kissed the crown of his head, murmuring against his hair, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at the recordings right now?”

“They were pushed back. I have to leave for Incheon again early tomorrow morning, but I couldn’t miss seeing you today. I owe Seonghwa big time for helping me schedule everything.”

San hummed, content. His hands wandered soothingly across Wooyoung’s back while he took in the date setup prepared by Wooyoung. The rich, savory aroma of dinner had been evident even from the hallway, and the soft, flickering glow of the candles reached all the way to the threshold, teasing the romantic atmosphere that awaited San inside the open living area. 

“You prepared dinner?” San asked, clear affection coloring his voice. 

Wooyoung pulled back slightly, taking San’s hands to drag him fully into the living room to show him the full effect of his efforts. 

He said, a little shyly, “I hope that’s okay. I figured we could spend some time alone at home before I have to go back.”

“It’s perfect, love.” San kissed his temple, his eyes crinkling into the shape of crescent moons as he took in the surprise. “I’m so happy you’re here. I had such a shitty day, but it’s infinitely better now that you’re home.”

Wooyoung looked at him with renewed concern, noticing the dark shadows under San’s eyes that definitely hadn’t been there a few days ago when Wooyoung left. 

“Let’s wash up first, and then you can tell me about your day while we eat?” Wooyoung suggested, offering San a comforting squeeze of his hand. San squeezed back, nodding gratefully, before moving toward the bathroom.

🌷

“Good?” Wooyoung asked, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watched San practically inhale the dinner. 

He took a slow sip of white wine from a tall glass, resting his chin in his palm, his gaze thick with affection as he observed his boyfriend enjoying the meal.

San hummed with pure delight, eyes fluttering shut for a second. “Delicious. How did you know I was craving steak?” he asked in between eager bites. 

“Babe, you’re always craving steak. I could wake you in the middle of the night and you’d be ready to eat it,” Wooyoung teased, taking a longer, leisurely sip before setting the glass down with a soft clink. 

He studied San for another moment, feeling a wave of endearment wash over him at the sight of the neat heap of spinach left completely untouched on the side of the plate. 

Eventually, his expression sobered, and he asked softly, “What made you upset today? You didn’t seem irritated when we were texting earlier.”

San sighed heavily, abandoning his cutlery to give Wooyoung his full attention. He clasped his hands together in front of him, resting his elbows on the table as he met Wooyoung’s gaze. 

Tiredly, he explained, “I wasn’t upset, exactly. Just a little overwhelmed, because…” he trailed off. “Did I tell you we’ve finalized the spring collection?”

Wooyoung nodded slowly. “Yeah, you mentioned that you still didn’t know what your next project would be because your boss was acting weird about it. Has he decided already?”  

“Kind of?” San scratched at his wrists, his eyes nervously darting up to meet Wooyoung’s steady gaze. “He called me in for a meeting today with the head designer, the one who coordinated the whole spring collection. I honestly thought that maybe I fucked something up and they were going to fire me, and that’s why he hadn't assigned me any project yet-”

“San-ah,” Wooyoung cut in gently, seeing how San was growing anxious just recounting it. He wanted to smooth the worry etched into his boyfriend's face, so he reached across the table to cover San’s hands with his own. “You’re their best designer, they wouldn’t let you go that easily,” he comforted San, his thumb brushing soothing circles over the back of San’s hand.

San chuckled dryly at that. “Well, about that…” 

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, intrigued as San’s expression took on a hint of mystery. 

“The head designer of Ash, Park Jinu, was only hired to oversee this specific commission, and he will no longer be working with us.”

“That’s good, isn’t it? He was overworking you constantly.”

“He wants to hire me,” San rushed out on a single, breathless exhale. “That’s what they told me during the meeting. My boss is… not exactly enthusiastic about it, but Mr. Park has too much impact in the industry, so my boss doesn’t get much say in the matter. My contract is ending soon anyway.”

“And how about you?” Wooyoung asked him, his voice attentive and soft. “How are you feeling about it?”

San took a long, deliberate sip of his wine, gluing his eyes to the liquid once he set the glass away. He swirled the contents gently, lost in thought. 

“That’s what’s making me upset the most. I don’t know.” He sighed, lifting his head to look at Wooyoung. 

There was a look of silent plea on his face, hoping Wooyoung would understand the turmoil without him having to spell it out. 

“I have to give him an answer by the end of next week.”

“Well, let’s start with the basics, what is he offering you?” Wooyoung asked, hoping to help guide San through the tangled thoughts that must be clashing in his mind. “Is it better than your current job? And I’m not asking about the money. You’ve worked for companies before where the brand drained you because the work was so tedious compared to their artistic vision. I’ve seen you fade away when you didn’t have the opportunity to create what your heart desired, and I don’t want you to go through that again.”

“The thing is, I’ll no longer be making sportswear. A few days ago, Mr. Park asked me to show him my personal projects outside of the job, and he said he liked them. They actually fit Ash, his own brand perfectly, so I’d get to design more formal clothes, exactly like I’ve been wanting to do for years now.”

Wooyoung swallowed, knowing how important the offer was, how it could impact San's entire future. But he didn't say anything as San brushed fingers through his hair, anxious. 

Eventually, Wooyoung asked, a little sheepishly, “So, why are you hesitating?” 

Wooyoung gave San time to answer, standing up to gather their empty plates. He moved efficiently, stacking them and carrying them to the sink. San followed his movements with his gaze, his eyes tracking Wooyoung across the room before he eventually turned back to the bottle to pour them more wine.

“I shouldn’t be drinking more,” Wooyoung laughed lightly, waving a hand, “or I’ll be like a zombie at the interview tomorrow.” 

“We both know two glasses of wine won’t knock you out,” San countered with a knowing smirk, sliding the glass toward Wooyoung’s spot anyway. “Besides, you only get to celebrate our second anniversary once.”

Wooyoung wiped his hands on a kitchen towel, tossing it onto the counter. He walked back to where San was sitting and wrapped his arms around him from behind, resting his chin comfortably on San’s broad shoulders, pressing his chest against San's back.

“So, tell me. What are you really worried about?”

“I’d have to start practically from zero at the new company,” San confessed, staring into the swirling liquid in his glass. “And I’m scared I won’t meet his expectations. What if he regrets hiring me? I have a stable position here... maybe I shouldn’t let it go to waste.”

“Remember what you told me after I graduated,” Wooyoung whispered right next to San’s ear, his breath warm against the skin, “when I couldn’t make up my mind on what to do?”

It had been a dark time in Wooyoung’s life. Fresh out of college with a degree in accounting, he had felt immensely pressured to continue his career in that direction. 

His parents had even urged him to pursue it for stability, but deep down, Wooyoung knew from the very start that it wasn’t what he desired to do with his life. 

His heart was with music. It always has been. But back then, his band didn’t have any major successes under their belt. They had struggled with the agonizing decision of whether to keep going or to give up and pursue different, safer careers. 

“That you should chase your dreams no matter how far away they might seem,” San recalled his own words softly, leaning his head back against Wooyoung’s shoulder. 

Wooyoung hummed in agreement. “And you were right. Had I given up on the band, it would have been the biggest mistake of my life.”

Their beginnings hadn't been a bed of roses. Wooyoung had taken a job at a corner store where the salary barely covered the rent. It was far from the glittering dream he had held in his mind since childhood. 

“I think you already know the answer to your dilemma. You’re amazing at doing what you love, Sannie. There are big names fighting over hiring you.” Wooyoung squeezed San tighter, emphasizing just how proud he was of him. “If working for Ash might enable you to fulfill your dreams, even if it’s a long, long run, it’s worth the try.”

San reached up and caught Wooyoung’s hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss his knuckles, pressing a tender kiss to each one separately. 

“Do you think I can do it?” San asked timidly, and Wooyoung was quick to nod. 

“I know you can do it,” Wooyoung said, his voice ringing with absolute certainty. He hoped his face was showing that as well.

San looked more relaxed after that, searching Wooyoung’s gaze with almost teary eyes, full of gratitude. 

They spent the rest of the date happy and content, leaving their worries behind for the night.

🌷

The next morning, the time for Wooyoung to leave came quicker than he would have liked. It was way too early to be awake, let alone functioning, but he had to catch the first train in order to be on time for the recordings. It was an interview for some bigger YouTube channel famous for their viral, candid Q&A series.

Wooyoung dragged his feet out of bed, sitting heavily on the edge of the mattress and fighting the magnetic force that almost knocked him back over into his warm bed, calling his name. His bed and more importantly, San, who was still snoring soundly beside him.

Eventually, with a groan of pure willpower, Wooyoung hauled himself to the bathroom, washing up quickly to scrub the sleep from his face. Then he packed a fresh set of clothes, throwing everything haphazardly into his duffel bag. He briefly considered brewing coffee, but it wasn't even 6 a.m. yet, and the last thing he wanted was to either wake San up with the grinder or piss their neighbors off with the noise.

With a little spare time left, he decided to prepare a quick breakfast for himself and San, leaving something for his boyfriend to eat before work.

But as he was frying eggs in the pan, the sizzle filling the quiet kitchen, he felt a pair of eyes watching his every move. He didn't look up from the pan, stirring the eggs with his chopsticks and deliberately not glancing toward San.

San hadn't moved an inch from his spot. He had his boxers on, otherwise shirtless, with his bare chest on display as he leaned casually against the wall in the kitchen doorway. He had an obnoxious, knowing little smirk plastered on his face.

“Like your view?” Wooyoung asked eventually, clicking the stove off and turning to face San properly.

San's eyes slid slowly down the length of Wooyoung’s body, lingering before moving back up to his neck and stopping dead there. 

“You might want to…” San hesitated, a chuckle escaping him as his hand raised to his own neck, pointing to the juncture where his neck and shoulder met. “Ask the makeup artist to cover it. Or you know what? Just wear a turtleneck. Save everyone the trouble.”

Wooyoung already suspected what he meant, but he grabbed his phone anyway and switched on the front camera. He gasped loudly when he was met with a clear view of the hickeys. Big, angry red marks coating the expanse of his skin, peeking out mischievously from behind the collar of his shirt. 

“You animal,” Wooyoung gasped with feigned prudishness, covering his neck with his hand. “I asked you not to leave any marks! How am I supposed to show my face to people? Jongho will make fun of me for weeks,” Wooyoung whined, the sudden realization hitting him. 

Perhaps his friend teasing him relentlessly was a worse punishment than dealing with the embarrassment in front of the professional makeup artist.

San moved closer to him, unbothered, and pressed a kiss to his cheek in a morning greeting. 

“You had your face buried in the pillows, babe. I couldn't hear anything besides your moans.”

Wooyoung swatted at his bare chest, pushing San toward the table. He hoped the flush burning on his cheeks wasn't visible in the dim morning light. 

“No sex talk before breakfast,” Wooyoung threatened him, punctuating his words with a prominent, stinging slap on San’s ass. 

San’s laughter trailed after him as he walked to the table, looking over his shoulder, his gaze never leaving Wooyoung. 

Wooyoung adjusted his tee, glaring at San. 

He finished plating their humble breakfast, feeling significantly lighter about today than the last time he had left for Incheon. Back then, he had faced the bleak prospect of several days of separation, but today he’d be back home before the end of the day. He couldn’t wait to crash in their bed again, as the prominent fatigue from yesterday’s travel and emotions was already catching up to him. 

They talked quietly over breakfast. The lazy, first shy rays of sunlight began to slowly peek out from behind the buildings surrounding them, and Wooyoung realized painfully that he really had to leave soon to catch his train.

He brushed his teeth in record time and quickly grabbed his stuff. San was already waiting for him in the hallway, holding Wooyoung’s jacket open for him. He offered it up so Wooyoung could slip his arms in, helping him dress like. 

Wooyoung buried himself in San’s embrace one last time. 

“I have to go,” he whispered reluctantly. Even though he said it out loud, he made absolutely no move to peel himself away from San. 

San stroked his back soothingly. “I know, baby. But it’s only one more day, and you’ll be back for the weekend. And I’m making you actually rest this time. Zero visits to Hongjoong’s studio, no meetings with Seonghwa either.”

“Hongjoong will kill me,” Wooyoung muttered against the fabric of the shirt San had finally put on. A shame, Wooyoung liked him better without it. “There’s a single scheduled to drop by the end of next month, he wanted to start recording before this month ends.”

“I’ll talk to him,” San said calmly, aiming to sound threatening, but it just came out amusing to Wooyoung. “You are resting your voice, and I don’t take no for an answer.” 

Wooyoung pulled back slightly, patting San’s cheeks affectionately. 

“Alright, big boy. I'll pass on your threats.” 

San rolled his eyes, but leaned in to kiss Wooyoung deeply. 

Wooyoung gathered his things and already began to move toward the exit. “I’ll get going. See you tonight-”

San’s eyes flew open in a comical way as a sudden realization hit him. “Oh, I almost forgot!” He started rushing toward their bedroom. “Wait! I have a gift for you!”

“Can’t it wait for when I’m back?” Wooyoung asked anxiously, glancing at his watch. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, waiting impatiently for San to reappear in the hallway. “I kind of don’t have time right now.”

“I forgot to give it to you yesterday!” San rushed back, running with a small box in his hands. “I know we agreed not to buy any gifts, but I just couldn’t walk past it when I saw it in a shop.”

Wooyoung pouted at him, suddenly feeling guilty that he hadn't bought San anything tangible for their anniversary. 

San, as if reading his mind - Wooyoung was ninety percent certain he sometimes could - handed the gift to Wooyoung and said, “You prepared a delicious dinner for us yesterday, so don’t pout, Youngie. Besides, the gift is small.” He shrugged, all of a sudden looking a little self-conscious.

Wooyoung, with his duffel bag still slung over his shoulder and headphones around his neck ready to go, lifted the lid of the box. He let out a gasp of surprise, looking up at San to see his boyfriend already watching him with eager anticipation. Wooyoung looked at the gift again, then back at San, and gave him a beautiful, warm smile that San reciprocated almost instantly. 

“Sannie…” Wooyoung whispered in a shaky voice, carefully lifting a small glass globe out of the box. Wooyoung’s breath caught in his throat. He leaned into San, who wrapped his arms securely around Wooyoung’s back and kissed the top of his head. 

The snow globe had a tiny, delicate mockingbird trapped inside. Wooyoung melted on the spot at the significance of the gift. It was his favorite affectionate nickname San had given him at the very beginning of their relationship. 

“Why a mockingbird?” Wooyoung had asked once.

“It was either that or a silly goose,” San laughed when Wooyoung nudged him, feigning offense. “Mockingbirds are so bold. I befriended one when I was a child. It often came to perch beside me and sing to me daily when I went to swing under the old cherry tree in our garden. It kind of reminded me of the days when I used to come to your performances, back when I was falling for you and your voice.”

“It’s so… It’s beautiful,” Wooyoung whispered, grimacing slightly as his voice sounded raw with the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. 

Dropping his bag to the floor, he properly wrapped his arms around San, careful of the snow globe in his hands. 

He kissed San softly, whispering against his lips, “I love you.”

In response, San held him tighter and kissed him once again. 

“I love you too,” the words muffled sweetly between their lips.