Chapter Text
“Does it hurt?”
“It’s a needle going through your nipple. Of course it hurts, dummy.”
When Wooyoung booked San’s appointment at his usual tattoo and piercing parlor, he had fully expected San to change his mind. He had two whole weeks to back out. Wooyoung waited for the text each night, but it never came. Now the two are on their way, San’s appointment only twenty minutes and a short walk from Wooyoung’s apartment.
Wooyoung shakes his head. “Did you just not think about it before now?”
“Pretty much,” San says with a shrug. “Is it going to bleed?”
“Yes. It’s a needle. Going through your nipple.”
San takes a big deep breath and nods.
Wooyoung softens. Always soft for San. “I’ll hold your hand if you want.”
San lets out a shaky laugh. “I’ll probably need it.”
Before they know it, they arrive, and Wooyoung opens the door, gesturing for San to step inside. “Cuties first.”
He swears San blushes before he steps forward, into the overly air-conditioned shop.
Being in love with San has gotten more difficult to manage over the last two weeks. The more time he spends with San, the harder he falls. Wooyoung has come close to slipping up and blurting out the confession several times: once over a shitty frozen pizza, once whilst standing in the middle of the café, and twice while San was balls deep inside him. It’s all San’s fault. He’s too perfect.
And now he’s about to be extra perfect. A man with a ring through his nipple while he pouts his absurdly pink lips? Or while he shoves Wooyoung to the mattress? Both death sentences Wooyoung is willing to deal with.
“Wooyoung!”
Kim Namjoon in the flesh. Wooyoung has known him since he was sixteen when he snuck out of his parents’ place to get his cartilage pierced. “Hyung!” Wooyoung never wanted another person to put needles in him—not even San. Probably especially not San.
He’s tall, tanned, and handsome, hair slicked back from his face, a black ring through his eyebrow. Tattoos crawl up his arms, including a smattering of red hearts Wooyoung doesn’t remember.
“Finally finish the sleeve?”
Namjoon looks down, smiling at the hearts. “Kinda cute, right?”
Wooyoung raises an eyebrow and offers a quick nod.
“Kinda like your friend here.”
Wooyoung’s hand unconsciously finds the back of San’s neck. “This is San, your newest client.”
They bow to each other. San, the politest man Wooyoung knows, adding a quick, “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Cute.”
Wooyoung doesn’t think the extra comment is necessary.
“I’ll go prep the room.” Namjoon motions to the display case beneath the register. “You figure out what your first jewelry purchase will be.”
When Namjoon is out of earshot, San turns to Wooyoung. “Any suggestions?”
“As much as I want you to choose a ring, start with a barbell. If you bump it, it won’t hurt as bad.” Wooyoung points to a small section of silver and black barbells. “We can buy more fun ones after you heal.”
San nods, knuckles white against the edge of the counter.
Wooyoung runs his hand over San’s back. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”
He seems to relax a little but shakes his head. “I want to.”
When Namjoon returns, San tells him he wants a barbell. It’s cute, the way San has no idea what he needs to say. Wooyoung resists every urge to lean over and kiss him. Luckily the piercer appears to catch on and takes the lead.
“I recommend stainless.” He plucks a barbell from the case and holds it up. “Implant- grade steel that’s internally threaded and leaves a little wiggle room on either side before the ball. No nickel. We’re just doing one, right?”
San nods. “How much?”
“Eighty thousand won.”
“Deal. You take card?”
Namjoon nods. “I’ll cash you out after we’re all done.”
Barbell in hand, Namjoon leads the three back to the private room. Wooyoung’s been here many a time, either for himself or for Yeonjun. He never thought he’d be here with San, unless Wooyoung were the one getting pierced again. He watches San move carefully, nerves sinking in as he seats himself on the black table in the center of the room.
“Should I take my shirt off?”
Namjoon puts the jewelry in the sanitizer, switching the device on. “Unless you’d rather pull it up.”
San opts to remove his top entirely, handing the shirt to Wooyoung, whose brain malfunctions because abs. Namjoon short-circuits as well, even if it is only for a second when he first turns around and sees all of San’s skin. Wooyoung hates the way the older man’s brow lifts at the sight of San’s bare torso, a smirk daring to reveal itself.
He talks San through the process, handing over a clipboard with all the required paperwork. After San has diligently read everything and signed the release, he looks up with round eyes.
“Does it hurt?”
Wooyoung is a little annoyed that San found it necessary to ask Namjoon when he already asked Wooyoung.
“Yeah.” At least the piercer is honest. “It sucks, but it’s quick. It’s like one, two, done.” He snaps his fingers.
“How long does it take to heal?”
“Everyone is different. Most people I’ve pierced are good to go after a few months, but a few have taken over a year.” Namjoon talks while he sterilizes San’s nipple, cleaning the area with alcohol and a surgical scrub, tossing the used materials in a bin, gloves staying on. Guide-dots are drawn onto San’s skin. “You bench?”
San nods. Wooyoung seethes inside.
“You can stay sitting or you can lie down.”
“Wooyoung?”
The jealous monster in the back of Wooyoung’s head dissipates. “Hm?”
“Should I lie down.”
“I normally do.”
San’s back hits the table, wincing a little as the clamp closes around the hard little bud on his chest. He reaches for Wooyoung’s hand, fingers slotting together.
“Needle, jewelry, pressure.” Namjoon reminds, needle in hand. “Ready?”
San closes his eyes and squeezes Wooyoung’s hand. He pushes out a long, heavy exhale. “Ready.”
Cute.
Wooyoung cried when he got his done. San takes it like a champ, barely squeaks when the needle goes through. His face twists, jaw clenched, but he doesn’t cry. To be fair, he’s got a pro behind the wheel, Namjoon quick and skilled as he swaps the needle for the barbell, twisting the end on after the metal is through, pressing a sterile pad over the area to stop the bleeding and relieve some of the pain.
Wooyoung runs his fingers through San’s hair. “Did so well, Sannie.”
“Is it over?” He grits.
“It’s over,” Namjoon answers. “Once the bleeding slows down, I’ll bandage you up, and you’ll be good to go.”
Still holding San’s hand, Wooyoung looks up. “We’ll need to buy some soap while we’re here. And some saline, if you have any.”
Namjoon nods. “Of course.” He starts his spiel about cleaning, warns San that even if it starts feeling good after a few days to not stop cleaning. “I’ve seen some nasty infections, man. But Wooyoung can help you with that. He’s lived through it. Don’t freak if you bleed for the first week, but if it goes on much longer than that, give me a call.
“Like the release said, no swimming, saunas, hot tubs, or questionable showers for the first two to three weeks. And don’t let anyone touch for about four weeks.” He punctuates the last bit with a wink.
“I’ll get you some soap before you go. Use that and warm water every day to wash the wound daily. No towel drying, not even patting. Air dry only. You don’t want anything getting in there.”
“When can I go back to the gym?”
Wooyoung scoffs. Of course that’s what San is concerned about.
“In thirty minutes if you really want to. Just be mindful that movement is going to be rough for a few days. Even the shirt rubbing wrong will hurt.” Namjoon secures a bandage around the area. “All done. I’ll get you checked out up front.”
San uses his card to pay for the service, tipping generously.
While he punches in his pin, Namjoon turns to Wooyoung. “You know when you called, Wooyoung, the first thing I thought was Prince Albert.”
Wooyoung blanches. “Never ever.”
Namjoon cackles, but San looks down at him. “Might be kinda hot.”
“Then you can do it!” Wooyoung shrieks. “A needle through my dick doesn’t sound hot to me.”
The piercer keeps laughing, clutching his stomach as he tries to catch his breath. San kisses Wooyoung’s temple unprompted, making Wooyoung tingle all over, then they say their goodbyes and are on their way back to Wooyoung’s for the night.
-----
“I can’t believe I just did that!” San says with a grin.
They’re almost back to Wooyoung’s apartment, and San has been chattering nonstop about how positive the experience was, how comfortable Namjoon made him feel throughout, and how he can’t wait to see how it looks after the piercing heals.
“You did really well.”
“What’s wrong?”
San’s tone drops to one that’s incredibly serious, a man slamming into his back because he stopped so abruptly.
“Watch it!” The stranger hisses.
Wooyoung apologizes, but his words are lost on the man who cuts around him with a glare. Then he turns to San. He could tell him right now. It would explain the silence as Wooyoung internally talks the jealous monster down. But they’re in the middle of the street surrounded by people, and Wooyoung’s not ready to deal with rejection in front of this many strangers.
“I’m fine,” he says instead.
San huffs. “You’re not. You’ve hardly said ten words since we got to the appointment. Since when do we keep stuff from each other?”
“We don’t.”
“You are right now.”
Wooyoung’s heart pounds in his chest, heat rising to his face, bile bubbling in his stomach. The last time San got mad at him he threw up, and he’s feeling the same way now. San isn’t even pouting. He looks angry.
“Did I do something to piss you off?”
“No!” Wooyoung is quick on the draw, an easy question. “You didn’t do anything, San.”
“Then tell me.”
He can’t say it out loud—he'd sound insane . The jealous monster claws at his throat, threatening to reveal Wooyoung’s secrets, putting Wooyoung’s relationship with San at risk. He tries to swallow it back down, but it’s not working.
He loses.
“I don’t like when people touch you.”
San looks at him like he’s crazy. “You what?”
“It’s stupid,” Wooyoung backpedals as fast as his lips let him. “Watching Namjoon openly check you out made me feel weird.”
“He was doing his job, Wooyoung.”
“I know! I said it was stupid!” They stop in front of Wooyoung’s building. “Please just forget it?”
San’s confusion shifts to frustration. His lips are pressed together in a straight line, brow furrowed, eyes a bit...sad? Disappointed? It’s devastating. This was supposed to be a fun thing, and Wooyoung has ruined it with his jealousy that he apparently can’t keep in check.
“I’m gonna go home.”
Wooyoung’s heart sinks. “You don’t have to.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
San wraps his arms around Wooyoung’s shoulders. “It’s okay. I just need to go home. I’m not mad at you, so don’t ask, I just need,” he pauses, taking a deep breath, “I need to think.” San steps back, breaking the hug, pressing a kiss to Wooyoung’s forehead. “I’ll text you. Okay?”
“Okay.”
And then he walks away.
Wooyoung is left alone on the sidewalk, unable to move for a moment. He’s done it. He has managed to ruin the most important relationship in his life. His jealousy has pushed San away, maybe once and for all. As he climbs the steps, he fights tears.
Like always, Yeosang is in the living room when he walks through the front door, fingertips diligently tapping backlit keys. The TV is on but muted, and a bowl of half-empty popcorn sits on the floor next to discarded slippers.
“I fucked up.”
Yeosang slowly closes the lid to his laptop and places it on the coffee table. “Come here."
Wooyoung crosses the room and collapses beside his oldest friend.
“What happened?”
“Well,” he says around the lump in his throat, “I-I’m in love with San.”
He hasn’t said it out loud until now. A tear rolls down Wooyoung’s cheek, and the fragile band holding him together snaps. His breath catches in his throat and then he’s sobbing, unable to read Yeosang’s face but throwing his arms around his shoulders anyway, burying his face in his shoulder to hide from the world.
“Say something please.”
Yeosang makes a little noise in his throat. “I’ve been preparing for years for this, but now I don’t really know.”
Wooyoung sits up so quickly he gets dizzy. “What do you mean?”
Yeosang ignores him. “You need to tell me what happened.”
He explains everything. The moment he realized. The jealousy. The itching urges to tell San the truth and the crippling fear of ruining everything in the process. Everything that went down at San’s appointment.
“San got his nipple pierced?”
“That isn’t the point!” Wooyoung whines, shoving his shoulder. “Sangie, I don’t know what to do.”
Yeosang takes a slow, deep breath. “Wooyoung.”
“I hate when you say my name like that.”
“I need you to not ask questions, okay?” He holds his hands up. “You should tell him.”
There’s a seriousness to Yeosang’s voice that makes Wooyoung want to listen. But he has a million questions that for some reason he’s not supposed to ask. His mind is spinning, new tears are falling down his cheeks, and he’s tired but also wide-awake.
Love is rough.
“Can I just ask one question?”
Yeosang lets out an exasperated sigh. “What?”
“Do you think he’ll stop being my friend?”
Yeosang uses the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe away Wooyoung’s tears. “I know that won’t happen. There isn’t an alternate universe that exists where you and San aren’t together. In one aspect or another.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t tell Jongho I said this, because it’s corny as hell, and he’d never stop laughing at me, but I think that very few people have a person that was made for them. A soulmate.”
“You’re right.” Wooyoung’s shoulders sink. “That was corny.”
He scoffs a laugh, nodding in agreement. “I just need you to trust me on that.”
For some reason, he does. Despite his little breakdown, splotchy cheeks, and burning eyes, Wooyoung no longer feels like the world is going to end. Soulmate is the perfect word for whatever he and San are. Whether it’s platonic or more, he doesn’t care. He takes a deep breath. Not telling San is hurting them more than it’s helping.
“Should I go now?” he asks.
“Will you be able to sleep if you don’t?”
“No.” Wooyoung sighs. He looks at his hands folded in his lap. “You really don’t think he’ll hate me?”
“I know he won’t.” Yeosang nods toward the door. “Go.”
With a resolute nod, Wooyoung pushes himself off the sofa. He gets his shoes back on, stuffs his wallet in one pocket, phone in the other, and looks at his friend. “Thanks for always being there for me.”
Yeosang shrugs. “I’m not always here. Sometimes I’m in my room.”
Wooyoung looks at him with a deadpan expression. “Fuck you.”
He shakes his head. “I’ll leave that for someone else. Someone with a very sore nipple.”
“Shut up!” Wooyoung blushes. “Love you.”
The man rolls his eyes and nods, reaching for his laptop once again. “Love you too.”
-----
Wooyoung catches the bus just in time and slides into a seat near the front. His thoughts fight each other. Half are encouraging, listening and believing Yeosang’s words, trusting his friendship with San, and reassuring him that everything will be okay. The other half is the complete opposite: it screams at him to get off the bus, to go home. Confessing will ruin everything. San will never be able to look at you the same way, let alone cuddle you or kiss you.
It’s like a drama, the way both sides go back and forth.
San is the best person in the world. He will love you no matter what.
You’re wrong. He doesn’t feel the same way. He’ll think you’re pathetic.
He could feel the same way.
He can’t afford to be that hopeful. Regardless of San’s reaction, Wooyoung is about to change the trajectory of their relationship. All he can hope for now is that San will be understanding. That he’ll give Wooyoung time to process and get over these feelings without leaving him.
But what if you can’t get over him?
He’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it.
The bus halts about a block from San’s new apartment, and only then does Wooyoung see the flaw in his plan. He can’t just waltz into San’s place whenever he wants now. His apartment isn’t behind a keycode protected door. It’s behind a locked shop door and another locked door that he doesn’t have a key to.
So he stands in front of the café for a long moment, debating if he should just go home. He could come back in the morning, give San more space, and not have to beg to be let in.
No. You came all this way. You can’t turn back.
He takes a deep breath, unlocks his phone, and scrolls to San’s contact. San changed his photo a while ago. It’s a photo of the two of them curled up in San’s bed. They look sleepy, San’s lips pressed to Wooyoung’s hairline. They’ve taken more fun, more flattering photos. San could’ve chosen any of them. But he picked this one.
He taps the call button and brings the phone to his ear.
San picks up on the second ring. “ Hello ?”
It’s a weird concept: saying hello and expecting the other person to introduce themselves even though you know who’s calling as long as your number is saved.
“Wooyoung?”
Now is not the time for an existential crisis, Wooyoung.
“Hi,” he breathes out.
“I’m sorry about earlier. I overreacted and—”
“I’m outside.”
“What?”
“I’m outside.” He repeats, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Can I come in?”
The call disconnects. A few moments pass before Wooyoung sees the hall light flick on, light seeping into the café hallway, and then San is there, walking toward the front door. His heart skips when San smiles at him through the glass. Wooyoung has his arms around San the second he gets the door open.
“We need to talk.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just.” Wooyoung doesn’t want to do this in the middle of a dark ass coffee shop, even if San owns the place. “Can we go upstairs?”
San leads him upstairs. He’s adorably awkward, which Wooyoung has never witnessed when they’re alone. “Do you wanna sit on the terrace?”
The plant is still dying between the two chairs. Everything is the same. Wooyoung reminds himself that San is the same too. He’s his best friend. His soulmate. San is the one person Wooyoung can tell anything to without worry of judgment or criticism. This is no different.
“Wooyoung, you’re freaking me out.”
He apologizes.
He has no idea how to start this conversation.
“I like you. Do you like me?”
Wow. Good job, Wooyoung. That’s not vague at all.
San looks startled, probably because of the way he blurted out the question. “That’s a dumb question.”
“No. You don’t date. You don’t hook up with anyone other than me. You don’t talk to other dudes. Jisu throws herself at you at any given opportunity, and you don’t even seem to notice.” He gulps down a fresh round of nerves. “Why?”
San stands up and crosses the small space, leaning against the railing. Wooyoung hears a slow, shaky exhale. “I’m not interested.”
“Is it because of me?” He asks carefully. If his heart beats any faster, he’s sure he’ll have a heart attack.
San looks down. “Why are you asking me this now?”
No time like the present.
“Because I’m in love with you.” He sounds unsure of himself, the words coming out weaker than he intended. He clears his throat. “I love you.”
San’s fingers tighten around the railing, and Wooyoung wishes he would turn around. He wants to see his face, his expression, to know if he’s about to be rejected. He braces for the worst.
“Wooyoung, please don’t fuck around with me.”
That’s the last thing Wooyoung had expected him to say.
“I’m not!” San doesn’t move, so Wooyoung keeps talking. “I’m in love with you. I don’t expect you to feel the same way. We’ve been friends for years, and fucking for almost as long, and now I’m making everything awkward, and I’m sorry. But I felt like I needed to tell you because I’m also making things weird because I got jealous of Jisu and then Namjoon, and I don’t want our friendship to go away.” He rambles on. “And like I said, I don’t expect you to want to be my boyfriend or anything, I just don’t want you to stop being my friend.”
San cuts him off. “Wooyoung.” He shrinks a bit at his tone. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”
“Oh.”
Wooyoung hadn’t prepared for this outcome. He stares at the floor, brows pinched together, eyes wide, brain trying to process what San just said. San loves him back? San has loved him for longer?
“Really?”
San laughs. It’s more of a scoff, but it sounds wet at the same time, and Wooyoung realizes only then that San is crying. And that just won’t do. He stands and wipes his sweaty palms on his pants before moving to stand next to him.
He slips his arm around San’s waist and rests his head on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Are you ?”
Wooyoung nods. “I’d feel better if you’d look at me.”
“I’m scared to,” San confesses.
“Why?”
“Because I never thought I’d tell you. And now I have, but it also feels like I’m dreaming.” San swallows hard. “I’m also a little high.”
“Smoke without me?” Wooyoung pouts.
San croaks out an apology.
“Sannie?” Wooyoung stands up straight again. “Will you kiss me?”
Wooyoung has never asked.
San lets out a little gasp. “Before I do. What does this make us?”
This question Wooyoung knows the answer to. “Soulmates.” He holds San’s shoulders and turns the man to face him. “Best friends.” He takes his hands in his own and looks up, their eyes meeting for the first time after their confessions. “Boyfriends?”
“Those all sound really nice.” San reaches for Wooyoung’s face, a hand cupping his cheek, fingers pushing a piece of hair behind his ear. “As me again.”
“Sannie.” Wooyoung loves saying San’s name. “Will you kiss me?”
He meets San halfway, lips brushing before fitting together. It’s like the kiss San had asked for. It’s slow and deep, nothing rushed about it. Even when San slips his tongue in his mouth it’s soft. It feels like a walk along the river or waking up after sleeping in on a rainy day.
When they run out of air, they stay close, foreheads pressed against each other, breathing each other in.
“I love you, Jung Wooyoung.”
His heart flutters.
“I love you, Choi San.”
Lips like magnets, their mouths find each other again. Wooyoung drapes his arms over San’s shoulders and hums into San’s mouth when thick hands pull him closer by the hips.
“Stay over.” It’s not a question. Wooyoung wouldn’t have left anyway.
San guides him inside, lips sealed together until Wooyoung bumps into something behind him. It cuts across the backs of his knees, and before he can process that San managed to get a bedframe up here without him knowing, he’s falling onto the mattress. Propped up on his elbows, he looks at San—his soulmate.
“When did you get it?” Wooyoung asks, scooting back to make room.
San kneels between Wooyoung’s legs, weight braced on his hands. “Yesterday.”
“It’s nice.” He fists the front of San’s shirt and pulls him down for another kiss, careful not to bump San’s bandage or jostle him too much.
They make out like that until they’re both hard in their pants.
“Can we?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
They strip each other from head to toe, pausing to kiss, lick, and suck over each other’s skin along the way, distracted by how infatuated they are with each other.
Nothing new there, Wooyoung thinks to himself as San bites the sensitive spot under his ear, thumbing over one of his nipples.
“I don’t really wanna be mean tonight, if that’s okay.”
“Yeah, of course. Never have to be mean.”
“Not anymore,” San agrees.
He knows he’ll have to ask more about that later. For now, he’s tired of thinking, and he wants nothing more than to get lost in San. To blanket himself in the love of his life. To feel every inch of him.
-----
After, they stare at the stick-on stars, sweaty with the sheet pulled up to their waists. San has both hands behind his head, wearing a small smile that Wooyoung can barely see. The younger rolls onto his side, hand resting on San’s bare stomach.
“What are you thinking about?” Wooyoung asks.
“About how unreal this feels.” San turns to look at him. “You?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is everything okay?” Wooyoung can hear the frown in his voice.
He nods quickly, not wanting to give him the wrong idea. “Everything’s perfect.”
“But?”
Wooyoung twists his mouth to the side. “I thought it’d feel different.”
“What? Sex?”
“Yeah,” he says softly. “I can’t explain it. Just thought I’d feel different after.”
San rolls to face him and slides a hand over his waist. “It doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Just means we’ve loved each other for a long time.”
Wooyoung has to stop himself from curling against San’s side. “I want to put my head on your chest.”
San chuckles. “Don’t pout. Here.”
He stands and walks around the foot of the bed, nudges Wooyoung over, and lies down again, now on Wooyoung’s side of the bed. Wooyoung giggles, automatically gluing himself to his boyfriend, head on the perfect pillow. “You’re the best, Sannie.”
“Don’t you forget it.”
“I never will.”