Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 11.

Monday

KangYS:
The new software that must
be installed this week on every
company computer is not compatible
with our proprietary financial software.
10:23 a.m.

Wooyoung:
Oh, no!
10:51 a.m.

KangYS:
The creators of the new software
could troubleshoot this,
except...see: proprietary.
As in: trade secret.
As in: only company employees
are allowed to use it,
let alone look at its code.
1:36 p.m.

Wooyoung:
Then what??
1:50 p.m.

KangYS:
The entire IT department takes lessons
from the software employees—
after official working hours are over for the day.
Once we are competent and confident,
then we’re to figure out
what to adjust on our end.
But in the meantime,
during normal hours,
we’re fielding endless phone calls
and doing temporary fixes
to countless computers.
1:54 p.m.

Wooyoung:
Didn’t they check to make sure
before they bought it???
1:55 p.m.

KangYS:
Hah!
Anyway....
Feel free to text,
but it may be some time
before I can respond.
Just...wanted to let you know.
1:57 p.m.

Wooyoung:
Ah.
Thank you.
1:58 p.m.

Tuesday

Wooyoung:
Confession time.
When you were here on Saturday,
and I asked you to wait outside?
So I could pick up?
I wasn’t worried about the mess.
It wasn’t that bad.
I didn’t want you to see
the, um, blanket I’ve been knitting.
Well.
Attempting to knit.
Since, uh, a week or more ago.
It’s so much harder than the
YouTube tutorials made it seem!
I kept dropping stitches
and when I tried to fix them,
the edges wound up wavy
because there were suddenly
extra rows.
I ripped out so.
Many.
Damn.
Rows.
But! Finally found a video I got!
And I’m making progress!
I thought, you know, a few
hand-knitted baby blankets
for my future niece or nephew
would be really nice?
1:41 p.m.

KangYS:
Now I want to see a picture.
Because that’s a perfect gift idea.
And domestic Wooyoung...fascinating.
Need proof for the future.
3:36 p.m.

Wooyoung:
There’s nothing wrong with domestic skills!
3:52 p.m.

KangYS:
Never said there was.
4:39 p.m.

Wooyoung:
photo.jpg
4:55 p.m.

KangYS:
It looks so soft.
Perfect to wrap a baby in.
But where’s my requested photo
of you and the blanket and knitting needles,
all together?
6:02 p.m.

Wooyoung:
I don’t know why you want such a thing,
but okay....
photo2.jpg
6:50 p.m.

KangYS:
Beautiful.
And I gotta run—being glared at
for daring to touch my phone.
6:57 p.m.

Wednesday

KangYS:
I hate this software.
Its interface.
Its layout.
Its drop-down menus.
Its fucking font.
10:31 a.m.

Wooyoung:
Its...font?
10:57 p.m.

KangYS:
Yes.
It makes Comic Sans look scholarly.
12:24 p.m.

Wooyoung:
lol.
You can’t be serious.
12:51 p.m.

KangYS:
If I could send a screencap to prove it,
I would.
Wait. I can send you a link
to their company page—
click on the demo.
link.
2:14 p.m.

Wooyoung:
What the fuck was that?
2:56 p.m.

KangYS:
I know, right?
3:31 p.m.

Wooyoung:
What is wrong with the corporate exec
who signed off on this?
3:53 p.m.

KangYS:
I think he was drunk.
Not joking.
5:17 p.m.

Wooyoung:
I can believe it.
5:18 p.m.

KangYS:
Please tell me something
unrelated to computers.
Something good.
Something happy.
Something that will stop me
from flinging my keyboard at a wall.
5:24 p.m.

Wooyoung:
Whoa!
You texted back so soon!
5:25 p.m.

KangYS:
Waiting for the “teaching team”
to set up their final presentation.
They’re having audio-visual issues.
Such a shame.
5:30 p.m.

Wooyoung:
Did you...do something?
5:31 p.m.

KangYS:
Not I.
5:32 p.m.

Wooyoung:
Hm....
5:32 p.m.

KangYS:
Please? A story?
I need something to tether my sanity to.
5:33 p.m.

Wooyoung:
Suddenly, I feel important.
5:34 p.m.

KangYS:
You are.
Very.
5:34 p.m.

Wooyoung:
Oh.
Well.
Right.
So....
5:37 p.m.

Thursday

Wooyoung:
Last night, while counting stitches,
I had the best idea for a wedding gift!
For Lixie and Eric!
I was just going to check their registries,
but they’ve lived together so long,
they don’t need anything.
And while I’m happy to donate
to one of the charities they suggested?
It’s not the same as a gift!
A homemade gift.
Like the blanket.
Though not a blanket, obviously,
because to knit something so big?
That’s just going to be folded away
on a closet shelf?
Pass.
Instead.... Um.
What do you think of a photo album?
Nothing too big,
maybe holding 30-50 photos?
I’ve got a lot I can choose from,
of everyone,
of just them, together—
a whole range.
Be nice to flip through a real album,
not just scrolling on a phone, right?
Only...how to choose?
So I thought...maybe you could help me?
To decide? Which to include?
It could be fun!
I’d narrow it down first, of course!
You wouldn’t want to be stuck
in my apartment for days in a row!
But if I got it down to 100 or so?
Would you...maybe be interested?
8:20 a.m.

KangYS:
Wow.
You’re much better at gifts than I am.
As to helping, um,
when were you thinking?
1:33 p.m.

Wooyoung:
October’s almost over,
and their wedding is right around Christmas.
I’ll need time to do the first big sorting.
Maybe mid-November?
1:52 p.m.

KangYS:
I could do that.
Plenty of time to recover from this week.
5:01 p.m.

Wooyoung:
It’s not any better?
5:04 p.m.

KangYS:
Remember when you first texted me?
You said it took a while because overwork
and you were nearly asleep on your feet?
5:25 p.m.

Wooyoung:
Yeah.
5:26 p.m.

KangYS:
I kinda feel like I might collapse.
5:28 p.m.

Wooyoung:
Yeosang!
5:28 p.m.

KangYS:
Not—not really.
Just...drained.
And the day isn’t over.
The amount of caffeine
I’m going to need to get through tomorrow....
I don’t think I can manage
a café or anything this weekend.
5:37 p.m.

Wooyoung:
Don’t even think about it!
Sleep all weekend!
But wake to eat!
You do have food to eat at your place, right?
5:39 p.m.

KangYS:
Um.
5:40 p.m.

Wooyoung:
Your body is stressed.
You need good, healthy food!
5:41 p.m.

KangYS:
I can order soup or stew....
5:43 p.m.

Wooyoung:
Guess that’s better than nothing.
5:45 p.m.

KangYS:
We should be done tomorrow.
5:47 p.m.

Wooyoung:
Should?
5:48 p.m.

KangYS:
I’d use that shrug emoji,
but I’m too tired to search for it.
5:50 p.m.

Wooyoung:
Yeosang....
Any idea when you can leave, tonight?
5:52 p.m.

KangYS:
I doubt any time before 9:30 or 10:00.
5:54 p.m.

Wooyoung:
Please be careful on your way home.
5:57 p.m.

KangYS:
It’s okay, Wooyoung.
Not the latest I’ve left work this week.
5:58 p.m.

Wooyoung:
What???
5:58 p.m.

KangYS:
It’s fine.
You have a class at 6:00, though, right?
I’ll text you later.
5:59 p.m.

Wooyoung:
I do.
Yeah.
I just.
Sigh.
Take care.
Please.
6:00 p.m.

KangYS:
Just to let you know.
Home safe.
11:43 p.m.

Friday

Wooyoung:
Holding up?
9:51 a.m.

KangYS:
Barely.
But all of us look like zombie movie extras.
Not just me.
2:28 p.m.

Wooyoung:
Are they at least paying you
overtime for this?
2:30 p.m.

KangYS:
The evenings, yes.
The normal working hours?
No.
2:35 p.m.

Wooyoung:
It was their fault!
They should do something!
2:38 p.m.

KangYS:
Computer-y anything is our job.
Is what it is.
But fuck me, I’m so tired my body hurts.
3:10 p.m.

Wooyoung:
Please sleep and sleep
and sleep this weekend.
Promise me you won’t set any alarms!
3:15 p.m.

KangYS:
I’m at the point
I’d sleep through any I set.
Bet after I fall into bed tonight,
I won’t wake up til tomorrow afternoon.
3:40 p.m.

Wooyoung:
Promise?
3:44 p.m.

KangYS:
Easily made.
But for now—back to work.
3:47 p.m.

***

He should get out of bed. It was—he reached for his phone and peered at the screen—2:04 p.m. He’d slept...fourteen hours? Something like that.

Definitely fulfilled Wooyoung’s demanded promise. He smiled, then stretched.

Ow.

Maybe he’d slept a bit too long? He wasn’t sure he’d moved at all, after he’d closed his eyes. All his muscles were stiff and tight.

Yeosang sighed. He should hit the gym. He hadn’t had a chance at all this last week—and, oh, was that lack making itself known today.

So. Gym. Yeah. After he ate. He was starving. But first, a quick shower. He’d been too exhausted, last night.

Though...not so exhausted he would’ve missed a packed fridge, he thought, twenty minutes later. He’d had a glass of water, before trudging to his bedroom. He remembered that. He did not remember seeing unfamiliar containers of food. He drew out the largest, carefully placed it on the counter, and pried open the lid.

What in the...?

“I think he said that one has beef and vegetable porridge.” Yunho paused, leaning against the kitchen door’s frame. “He said to tell you it’s nutritious and healing, his grandmother’s recipe, and that everyone who’s ever had it asks for it again.”

Yeosang blinked at his flatmate.

“He...Wooyoung?”

Yunho raised an eyebrow. “You know someone else who cooks that well?” He tipped his head toward the open container. “It looks good. If you’re not going to eat it—”

“No. I mean.” Yeosang glanced back at the fridge. Four other containers waited there. “We could share?” he offered weakly.

“Hm. I don’t want to be scolded if you don’t eat enough.”

“He would never—”

“Yeosang. The man cooked all this, for you, yesterday. And then went to work this morning—carting all five containers with him. Left early—no, wait, he said he couldn’t stay because he’d swapped classes.” Yunho nodded firmly. “Right. I offered to wake you—he said no. I said he was more than welcome to stay. He said he had to get back. He rearranged his day, after staying up until God knows what hour, just to bring food. To you. Because your schedule’s been shit this week, and he was worried, and, no, he didn’t say that. He lookedit.” Yunho blew out an exasperated breath. “Just friends? Really?”

He bit his lip. “Wooyoung’s a really good friend,” Yeosang murmured, giving the still-open fridge door a half-hearted shove. “He taught himself to knit to make blankets for the baby his brother and sister-in-law are going to have...and he’s going to make a gift of photos for friends in the States that’ll need him to go through hundreds and hundreds of photos....”

“There’s a bag, in the living room, with your clothes, washed, dried, and folded.” Yunho shook his head in disbelief. “And all this? Not one dish, but five? That’s so fucking domestic-boyfriends-coded and sweet, I feel like I need to visit a dentist.”

He wished—no. He couldn’t afford to think like that. It’d hurt too much.

“He’s really just...like that,” Yeosang insisted, turning to a cupboard to retrieve a pot. “I’m going to heat this up. Do you want any?”

Yunho flung up his hands. ‘You. Are. So. Stubborn. And, no, that’s yours. Wooyoung made it for you.”

“I can’t eat all this alone,” he protested.

“I ate hours ago. Was eating when Wooyoung texted me.”

Yeosang frowned. “Why did he text you? How did he even have your number?”

“Me, because he wanted you to sleep. Somebody had to let him in. And Yeonjun. And—” Yunho stared at him. “I’m curious. Why did I only meet him today? You’ve been hanging out for months.”

Yeosang finished spooning a good-sized portion of food into the pot, then turned on the burner.

“We’re on the phone most of the time. I only see him on Saturdays.” And never for enough time. “We nearly always meet at the cafés. Last weekend was the first time I’ve been to his place and today, well. Now he’s been here. No one else—except San, because Mingi’s Wooyoung’s best friend—has met him, either.”

He turned away to open the fridge and slide the re-covered container back on the shelf. What else had Wooyoung made? He’d have to check, have to call—no, texting was safer. Have to text his thanks.

“Yeonjun knows him,” Yunho said pointedly.

“They were friends during high school,” Yeosang replied vaguely. A text would be enough, wouldn’t it? He wasn’t sure. But with swapped classes, he had no idea when he’d be able to get ahold of Wooyoung. Though he could leave a message? But then Wooyoung would call back, and he wasn’t sure he could handle that yet. He sighed.

He needed to get over this.

He grabbed a spoon from a drawer and gave the porridge a stir. Just barely beginning to heat up, the scent already had his mouth watering. How late had Wooyoung stayed up? The thought made his chest feel tight and warm at the same time.

“Hm. Has Yeonjun said anything?”

Yeosang glanced up. “About what?”

“About you and Wooyoung being friends.” Yunho folded his arms.

Dammit. Why couldn’t he leave the topic alone?

“Of course.” Neutral, as long as he didn’t have to relate what Junnie had said.

“Damn. If he can’t get through to you, I don’t have a hope in hell, do I?”

“We’re just friends,” Yeosang repeated. The more often he said it, aloud and to himself, the closer he could get to believing it was true. That he didn’t like Wooyoung in a painfully one-sided way.

“Sure. I’m gonna go game. Enjoy your meal, Yeosang-ah.”

“I will.”

He gave the porridge another stir—it looked and smelled amazing—and from the corner of his eye, watched Yunho leave the kitchen. He listened carefully, waited until he heard the bedroom door shut. He gripped the spoon more tightly. What could he send to Wooyoung, that would be sufficient and appropriate and thankful and not risk exposing how touched he felt?

He thought he’d done a pretty good job, hiding that from Yunho, but it wasn’t as if he could ask—would defeat the purpose.

All this food. Wooyoung would’ve had to go out shopping...when? After work, Thursday? At night? Then cooked Friday afternoon and evening, dragged the containers with him to work, persuaded somebody to swap classes to get everything here before Yeosang woke up?

Domestic? Sure.

Boyfriends? Would never happen. The sooner he cut off the tendrils of wistfulness the word conjured up, the better.

Wooyoung wanted Yeosang as a friend.

So that’s...what he’d be.

***

“Hi. Um. I’m here...for Jung Wooyoung?”

The receptionist tilted her head to the side and gave Yeosang a considering look.

“He’s teaching.”

“I know. Um. But he has a break coming up?” Why was he asking? He knew Wooyoung’s schedule by heart. He had no reason to be nervous or worried. He’d texted earlier that day, that he was going to swing by the dance studio after work. It wasn’t exactly on Yeosang’s way home, but it didn’t add too much time.

A whole week without seeing Wooyoung.... He’d missed him. The conversation on Saturday, thanking him for the food—it hadn’t been as awkward as he’d feared. Yes, they’d only texted at first, but then, when Wooyoung had asked if he could call Yeosang back when he got home, he’d agreed—he hadn’t seen any way out—and it, too, had gone well. Been normal, even. It’d restored his confidence in himself.

He could get over Wooyoung, and settle back into friendship.

Sunday had been spent catching up on chores, but in a moment of happy impulsivity, he’d drawn a little coupon. Redeemable for a free meal, any time Wooyoung wanted. Though, practically speaking, all that’d do would ensure no arguing over who’d pay the next time they met up at a café.

A group of students—and a couple teachers, he thought, judging by the matching tee shirts—began to stream into the lobby. Most of the students left, though not without casting curious glances his way. The teachers...Yeosang picked up the two bags he’d brought with him and retreated to the farthest wall. The slight nod the receptionist gave them. The way they leaned together to whisper, almost knowing expressions on their faces.

Were they talking about him? But why?

“Yeosang-ah!”

Wooyoung, in the middle of another handful of students, smiling and waving at him.

Wooyoung, sweaty, hair pulled out of his face with a bandana, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, the fabric clinging to his body.

Wooyoung, his friend—his friend—stopping right in front of him, a faintly quizzical smile on his face, when he simply stared back, saying nothing.

“Yeosang? You okay?”

Okay? Was he okay?

No, he wasn’t okay! Wooyoung was stunning, glowing, magnificent—sexy. Why did he find him sexy?

“I, um, brought back the containers. Of the food. That you dropped off.” He shoved the bags toward Wooyoung.

And, oh, that was a mistake. He should have set them on the floor, for Wooyoung to pick up. Because this transfer—a normal thing people did!—the brush of hands sent little electric shocks through him.

Shocks not due to his increasing nervousness.

This was bad. This was so, so bad.

“You finished everything already?”

That wide, charming grin was not supposed to make his heart race.

“I made Yunho share with me.” What did that quick frown mean? Already gone—but it’d been there! “Still some left, but we have our own dishes, and I wanted to get yours back to you in case you needed them, and, um, your clothes are in there. Figured you’d definitely want those back soon. And, um....” He fought off the impulse to look away or step back. Wooyoung’s eyes were fixed on his. If Yeosang did anything out of the ordinary, it’d be noticed. “I have something else for you.”

Wooyoung set the bags down and hesitantly reached for the folded square of paper Yeosang was holding out.

“‘Free meal of your choice of time and place, unless it’s Harry Potter, because no.’” Wooyoung laughed. “What’s this for?”

Yeosang stuck his hands in his pockets. It felt like everyone was watching him. The students passing by as they left and arrived. The slightly larger group of instructors huddled near the reception desk. Was he obvious to all of them? Surely not.

“I, uh, felt bad for having to cancel Saturday, and—”

“No,” Wooyoung replied immediately.

“No?” Yeosang echoed, feeling confused.

“Saturday was for you to sleep. Zero feeling bad allowed.”

“I—well, okay. Should I take it back?” he asked, half his attention on Wooyoung, and half on the woman approaching. He’d thought she was leaving, but, no, she’d veered their way. Why?

“Oh, no. I like it too much.” Wooyoung beamed at him. “As a matter of fact—”

“Wooyoung-ssi?”

His head jerked to the side, smile abruptly strained. “Yes, Eunbi-ssi?”

“I meant to mention it earlier, but I forgot. If you ever need to switch classes again to, ah, take care of personal business, don’t hesitate to ask, okay?”

The way her eyes flicked between them, she knew. He was obvious, Yeosang thought, swallowing hard.

Wooyoung’s eyes widened, and he shook his head rapidly. “Don’t think that’ll be necessary. Uh. Don’t you have a date tonight?”

“Me?” the other instructor replied, her mouth twitching. “I thought it was you.”

“What? No, no, no,” Wooyoung said, his words tumbling over one another.

Was he...seeing someone? No. He’d have said something. A misunderstanding. Had to be.

“Ah. My mistake. See you tomorrow, Wooyoung-ssi.” She smiled at them both, turned, and strode off.

Yeosang watched her leave, then, hearing the faint sound of giggling, peeked at the instructors still huddled around the reception desk.

He didn’t want to know why they were laughing.

He didn’t want to know what the students trickling in for the last class of the evening thought, when they saw him standing awkwardly next to one of their instructors.

A gentle shake of his shoulder snapped his attention back to Wooyoung.

“I kept saying your name—where’d you drift off to?”

“Um. Nowhere?” The grip on his shoulder tugged at his memory.

“Okay....” Wooyoung hesitated, then dropped his hand. “This coupon? Could I use it tonight? I only have one class left, and I know it’d be boring, kind of, but there’s a little lounge where parents sometimes wait and it’s comfortable. Class is only 45 minutes, and then a quick shower. I wouldn’t be that long. Then we could get dinner? Before you head home?”

He looked so hopeful, it wrung Yeosang’s heart, but to say yes? Now? Would be about as bad an idea as if he’d closed the gap that night and kissed Wooyoung, even though he’d been drunk.

Wait.

He’d.... Had he...? He stared at the floor, the waltz playing back in his head in snippets. Moving Wooyoung’s hand to his waist. Asking to learn more steps. Feeling giddy and happy and getting distracted by something and tripping and knowing he was going to fall, but Wooyoung caught him.

Like a damn drama, caught him, held him, both of them frozen in place, and if he hadn’t broken the moment, if he’d just done what he’d wanted, they’d have...kissed.

“Yeosang?”

It wouldn’t have lasted long. He was pretty sure Wooyoung would have stopped as soon as he remembered Yeosang was drunk. But even the briefest kiss would have changed everything. Why hadn’t Wooyoung mentioned it?

Maybe he felt embarrassed for Yeosang? Was that why he’d seemed so normal in their texting this last week, secure in the knowledge a moment that could have derailed their friendship had been forgotten?

It made sense.

“Is something wrong?”

Yeosang shook his head. He needed to focus. He needed to leave. Bad enough to be suspected of God-knows-what by the staff and students, but time spent with Wooyoung now, right after he’d remembered the almost-kiss? Not long after he’d realized how attracted he was to his best friend, and how he was nowherenear over his feelings?

He’d have no hope of hiding from the person he most needed to keep in the dark. Wooyoung was too damn perceptive. All it’d take was one moment with his guard down, Yeosang knew, and the longing to touch, to be touched, would be obvious, and no matter how kind Wooyoung’s rejection was, it would, tonight of all nights, be crushing.

“I just remembered something.”

Wooyoung stilled. “Did you?”

“I...um....” What would work as an excuse? It needed to be real. He didn’t want to out-and-out lie.

The memory of one of that morning’s e-mails flashed in his mind.

“I have to get home in the next hour. This last week, we did some programming, right? There’s a certificate course being offered. Weeknights. From home, so at least I can be comfortable. If I complete it, I’ll get a raise.”

All true. If he’d signed up for it. Which he hadn’t. Though as the weekly reminder always said, sign-ups were accepted until the first class actually began. He glanced at his watch and sighed. He still had time to register.

“Oh.” Wooyoung’s voice had gone quiet. “You must’ve done really well this past week, to be offered the chance of that. I’m proud of you.”

He hated disappointing Wooyoung, but he couldn’t risk it. Not tonight. Not anytime soon. He had to wrestle this new hyper-awareness—dammit, why did his eyes keep dropping to Wooyoung’s smooth, toned arms? It made him remember how it had felt, to be held by him, in the waltz. In that hug. In the same bed.

How the hell was he going to manage this? He couldn’t avoid him forever! Yeosang forced down rising panic. He’d figure it out—later, not now, not here.

“Um. Thanks.” Not that he’d done anything special. “Wooyoung-ah....”

Another soft, distant round of giggles. Yeosang darted a glance their way—shouldn’t they be teaching?

Wooyoung cleared his throat. “Ignore them. They’re not used to anyone stopping by to see me and,” he paused, his eyes searching Yeosang’s face, “it’s the kind of thing to start gossip, when the visitor is as beautiful as you.”

He felt heat rising in his cheeks. “Oh.”

A simple compliment, and he lost the ability to speak in complete sentences?

“I, um, have to get to my students.” Wooyoung ducked his head, then peered at Yeosang. “And you...have that class. Is it long?”

He rocked back and forth on his heels. “I don’t remember.”

“I...I see.” Wooyoung bit his lip.

Don’t stare at his mouth. Don’t stare at his mouth. Don’t. Stare. At. His. Mouth!

Yeosang fixed his gaze on the bandana holding back Wooyoung’s hair. “I think the classes are about an hour or so? But assignments.... I don’t know if they’re daily—I mean nightly? Or weekly. I’ll find out, I guess.” He forced a small laugh.

“Right. Well.” Wooyoung scooped up the bags, then straightened. “Thank you. For bringing these. And I’m really, really glad you came by. Even just for a little bit. I missed you.”

Yeosang was a terrible, terrible person. Plotting how to avoid his best friend? Letting him assume things that weren’t true? All to dodge the terrifying prospect of Wooyoung picking up on his more powerful than he’d realized one-sided...something. More than a crush, that he knew.

“I missed you, too,” he replied haltingly. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to wait. To go to dinner together. To laugh and smile and hold hands under the table—which was never going to happen! “I have to go. Have fun with your class!” He took a step back.

“Yeah. I’ll do that. Text me later, if you can?”

Yeosang nodded, not trusting himself to say anything, then smiled, and turned away.

Don’t look back. It’d be weird if you did.

One foot in front of the other until he was outside the studio.

Where had the subway entrance been? Left? Right?

Right, he thought. A few blocks away.

If he hurried, he'd be on time for the online class. For his sake. For Wooyoung’s sake. For their friendship’s sake.

Somehow. Somehow, he’d manage it.

***

“Yeosang?” San’s voice was low. “What’s wrong?”

It’d been too much to hope for, that San wouldn’t notice him being...off. But he couldn’t admit it. Too open, too risky, and too...pointless.

He shrugged. “Nothing.”

San sighed. “You know, you’re really not a good liar.”

Dammit.

“I’m fine. Just...stuff.”

A ding from San’s computer drew his attention away, and he frowned. “I gotta do a remote login on this ticket.”

Yeosang nodded, tension easing from his shoulders.

Not that his respite lasted long. Just a few minutes later, a chat window popped up.

KANG:
You already done?

CHOI:
No.
I'm multitasking.

KANG:
It's fine.

CHOI:
You know you're important to me, right?
If you need to talk,
just say the word.
I can and will make it work.
Any time.
I refuse to be the ass
who abandons his friends.
I mean, I know I was all...
lost in the glow for a while.
But now?

KANG:
It's not something you can help with.

CHOI:
What about Wooyoung?
(read)

The question unnerved him. What could he say? That he messed up? That he missed him? No.

KANG:
What about him?

CHOI:
Is it him?

KANG:
Is what him?

CHOI:
Yeosang.

KANG:
Yes?

CHOI:
Is he the reason you're all
sad and quiet?

KANG:
I'm not sad and quiet.

He was...reflective. Unsure. A bit scared.

But sad? Quiet?

CHOI:
Yes, you are.
Is. This. About. Wooyoung?
Ah, damn.
Be right back.

What to say?

Maybe: Why would it be about Wooyoung?

No. San would just respond with “why not?”

Maybe: He has nothing to do with it.

No. Yeosang hated outright lies.

Maybe: Why do you ask?

No. Almost as bad as admitting the truth.

Maybe...partial truth?

CHOI:
I'm back.
Well?

KANG:
Somewhat.
But I can handle it.

Just because he hadn’t yet figured out how, didn’t mean he was incapable.

CHOI:
Hmmmmmm.

KANG:
Whatever you're thinking, stop it.

CHOI:
That is a very broad statement.
Too broad.
Do you—Yeosang, do you like Wooyoung?

Thank God for cubicle dividers. If San could see his face, he’d know. Yeosang licked his lips nervously.

KANG:
What?
That's impossible.
I told you before,
he said I'm not his type.

CHOI:
Doesn't mean he's not yours.

Why was San being so persistent?

KANG:
I told him he wasn't and I meant it.

CHOI:
Then.
What about now?

KANG:
Why would you think it’s changed?

CHOI:
You’re avoiding Wooyoung.
No calls. No texts.
It’s what happened to my sister,
with the man she's now married to.

How did he know about the avoiding?

KANG:
Life’s a little stressful right now.
That’s all.

Yeosang heard a loud sigh, and cringed.

CHOI:
Okay, see, we had dinner
with Wooyoung last night.
Me and Mingi.
Don’t think he smiled once,
the whole time.

Guilt and worry sliced through him. Why did it have to be this hard? He didn’t want to hurt Wooyoung!

KANG:
His life could be stressful, too,
right now.
Why connect it to me?

CHOI:
Did I say I was doing that?

KANG:
Why else would you tell me?

CHOI:
Because he’s your friend?
Your closest friend?
Whom you used to talk to
and text every day—
including at work,
don’t think I never noticed—
and suddenly nothing?
He thinks he’s done something wrong.
He’s certain of it.

Damn, damn, damn.

KANG:
It’s just the class.
I told him that,
three days ago.

CHOI:
The class.
Yeah.
He mentioned that.
Said he understood.
How it was important to you.
A class you’ve avoided taking
since they started advertising it.
It makes no sense why
you’d suddenly sign up—
unless you were trying
to be busy on purpose.
Are you?

His hands hovered over the keyboard as he stared at the calendar pinned to the cubicle wall. Today was Thursday. He’d seen Wooyoung Monday night. Was that really long enough to cause alarm?

Thinking about it the way San presented it—going from daily conversations to, well...none—maybe it was? He hadn’t meant it to be!

KANG:
Am I trying to be busy on purpose?
Um.
Not...not really.

He’d just been trying to buy himself distance and time. He hadn’t realized it’d come across...differently.

CHOI:
Uh-huh.
A class whose assignments
you could do in your sleep
wouldn’t take up so much time
you couldn’t send one text a day.
Though Wooyoung doesn’t know that.

KANG
I do send a text a day!
I wish him pleasant dreams,
before I go to sleep!

CHOI:
And you go to bed early
since...when?

Never before in his life had Yeosang so intensely wished for a tech call. Anything to get him away from his desk and San’s relentless questioning!

KANG:
Wooyoung teaches until 8:00.

CHOI:
And he’s awake until 11:00.
Or midnight.
You’re both night owls.
Why are you avoiding him?

KANG:
I have a lot on my mind right now.
Not really good company.

CHOI:
So you ghost him?
Bit extreme, don’t you think?

The anxiety churning in his mind spiked. Wooyoung thought that? No. That wasn’t—no.

KANG:
I didn’t set out to do that!

CHOI:
Then fix it.
Last week was hell on all of us.
Only reason I didn’t have a
mopey Mingi on my hands
is we live together.

KANG:
Because you’re boyfriends.
Wooyoung and I are not.

CHOI:
No, but you’re very close.
And Wooyoung....
Yeosang-ah, the only people he talks to,
are you and Mingi.
You a lot more the last couple months.
Then last week, minimal contact.
And now?
Can’t you see where he’d start fretting
he’s somehow done something terrible?

Wooyoung was questioning himself, because Yeosang couldn’t get his act together. His...his crush, his stupid crush was making him a wretched friend.

KANG:
I’ll text him.

CHOI:
Tonight?

Yeosang inhaled sharply.

KANG:
Tonight?

CHOI:
Why not?

KANG:
It’s already past 5:30.
I do have that class later.
I need a little time
to figure out what to say...
how to...explain.

Though what he could possibly explain that would not give him away was currently beyond him.

CHOI:
If you'd seen him last night.
If you’d heard his voice.

He’d caused that much pain? Never, ever had he meant to do that!

KANG:
What should I do?

CHOI:
Cut the class.
You know the material,
you can skip it.
Wooyoung is more important.
Call him as soon as you get home.
You have to.

He didn’t disagree with San, but why was he pressing him? Waiting a day to gather his thoughts wasn’t unreasonable.

KANG:
San-ah.
Stop.
You’re...pushing.

CHOI:
I...
I am.
I’m sorry.
Wooyoung was just so miserable.
And you...ghosting someone?
Anyone?
That’s not you.
I just...wanted to fix it.
Stop you both from hurting.
Because there’s no other reason
you’d do all this, except...well...
trying to protect yourself?
I think?

Maybe San wasn’t as frighteningly observant as Wooyoung, but he was no fool. Yeosang stared at the screen for a few seconds, then gave a resigned shrug.

KANG:
It’s just a dumb crush.
I didn’t think it’d be
this hard to get over.

It went beyond a crush, but he wasn’t admitting that to anyone.

In his side vision, he could see San lean back in his chair, way back.

Reluctantly, he turned his head to face him.

“It’s never dumb to like someone,” San said quietly.

The irony of him saying that almost made Yeosang laugh. Almost.

“But it can be very unwise,” he responded, keeping his voice soft and low.

“Maybe sometimes. But, Yeosang, what about the times it isn’t? When it only seems that way?”

San and his rose-colored glasses.

“One-sided affection is rather obvious,” Yeosang commented dryly.

“But it—” San puffed out a breath, looking frustrated.

“I’ll call him. I will. I didn’t know Wooyoung would jump to conclusions like that. He hasn’t don’t anything wrong.”

“You’re going to tell him, then?” San asked tentatively.

“About the crush? No.” Yeosang pinched the bridge of his nose, suddenly feeling tired. “But I’ll make things better. I promise, okay?”

San stared back at him, his expression a perfect study in conflicting emotions.

“Not everyone gets a fairytale, San-ah,” Yeosang added gently.

“They should,” he muttered.

A wistful, aching part of Yeosang wished that were true. But dwelling on what could never be served no purpose.

“We should get back to work. That remote log-in you started...you need to finish it.”

“Ah...yeah....” San looked sheepish. “If you need to talk, though, I’m here, okay? You can call me anytime.”

Yeosang nodded in acknowledgment. He appreciated the thought, but this was a problem he could only solve himself.

***

Yeosang paced back and forth in the living room, phone clutched in his hand.

It was just a simple call. Easy words, to reassure.

Easy.

Yeah.

He could do this. For his friend. His best friend.

He stopped in front of the window, and pressed Wooyoung’s contact number, and waited—within seconds, he’d reached...voicemail.

Oh. He was still in class, wasn’t he?

Well. No turning back now. Wooyoung would see the missed call, and wonder, if he didn’t leave a message.

Yeosang pushed the curtain aside and stared at the apartment building opposite.

Voicemail meant he could get everything out, at once.

He took a calming breath.

Beep.

“Hey, uh, I just...I wanted to call. You’re still teaching, but—anyway. San said you had dinner with him and Mingi, and you seemed...off? Down? Made me worried. And I know, could be anything, doesn’t have to relate to us—to me—but, um, if it’s because of the last week and a half of me being busy? Especially this week, when I haven’t...been able to text or call at...at all, really—please don’t think you’ve done anything wrong. I’m just...busy. This class, the assignments, all that...it’ll get better!” It had to. He couldn’t keep up the distancing. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t nice, and it felt horrible. He just needed a bit more time.

“I miss you. I’ll definitely be free for the photo sorting for your gift for your friends!” Would he? He’d have to be. “And...just...yeah. We’re fine, Wooyoung-ah. If you were worried about that. I don’t know that you are, of course.” A lie. San had made it very clear. But maybe Wooyoung didn’t want Yeosang to know? “But if...if that’s part of why you seemed...off, like San said? We’re okay. I’ll be able to text this weekend! Not go out—have a project to work on—sorry about that.” He bit his lip. Laundry was a project. Sort of.

“Anyway! I hope you have a good night and, um, yeah. I’ll talk to you later.”

He pulled the phone away, and pressed end, sighing in relief. There. Done.

“What was that?”

Yeosang spun around to see Yunho, leaning against the opposite wall.

“I was leaving a message,” he said defensively.

“I figured that.” Yunho paused. “For Wooyoung? What’d you do?”

Why make that assumption?

Not that he was wrong, but....

“Misunderstanding,” he said briefly.

Yunho raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Keep your secrets, then, Yeosang-ah.” He straightened and took a few steps forward. “You really want to do this?”

Yeosang moved away from the window. “You helped me pick it out.”

Yunho nudged the long box on the floor. “Because it didn’t seem that difficult to put together. But now that it’s here....”

Yeosang rolled his eyes. “It’s a coffee table. It won’t be that hard.”

“What if it’s missing a screw or a nut or a bolt? Doesn’t that happen a lot?”

“No.” He paused. “At least....I don’t think so?”

Yunho eased himself onto the floor. “We should have bought secondhand. What I did before.”

Yeosang looked around the nearly bare room. “For what?”

“My bedframe.”

“So that’s why it creaks.”

Yunho tapped his chin, then smiled. “Only when it’s moving.”

“Nevermind.” Yeosang pocketed his phone. “I’m going to grab the toolkit.”

“We have a toolkit?”

“Yes?” He regarded Yunho with confusion. “You brought it? Years ago? Showed me, when I first moved in?”

“Oh, that.” Yunho waved a hand dismissively. “Never used it. Anything maintenance can’t handle, Mingyu-hyung can.” He grinned.

 Yeosang shook his head. “Of course you know a guy.”

“Very well,” Yunho murmured.

“Right! I’ll be back in a minute!”

“That’s my cue to open the box, isn’t it?”

“Would be helpful.” Yeosang turned toward the hall, hearing Yunho sigh behind him.

“Such a fun night in we’re having.”

***

“It doesn’t look like the model online.”

Yeosang stretched his neck side to side. “Because we’re not yet done.”

Yunho peered at the instructions, then looked back at the table. “What’s left?”

“The doors,” Yeosang pointed to the front, “need to be attached.”

“Do we need doors? Not like we have anything to hide.”

For someone with plenty of energy for anything involving a bed, Yunho could be terribly lazy.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” Yeosang was reaching for the door closest to him when his phone rang.

He paused.

It might not be Wooyoung.

It could be Yeonjun. Or Serim. Maybe San.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?”

He glanced down at the display.

Wooyoung.

Had he truly expected him not to call back?

He took a steadying breath, and answered the call.

“Hi.”

“Yeosang?”

“You expected someone else?” He scooted backwards until he was pressed against the couch.

Yunho gave him a considering look, then started to read—or re-read, Yeosang wasn’t sure—the instructions.

“No. Just, you’ve been in that class, this time of night.”

“Ah. Yeah....” What time was it? “We can miss a class or two, so long as we complete the assignment. And, um, after talking to San today, I thought I should call you as soon as I could. When I got home. Then I just...got distracted.”

The silence on the other end was lasting a bit too long.

“Wooyoung?”

“You cut class, to call me?”

He sounded...disbelieving and hopeful at the same time. Guilt flickered through Yeosang once again. It wasn’t that big a deal, for him to react like this.

“Of course. You’re more important than a class. More important than most anything.”

Yunho cleared his throat. Loudly.

“Because you’re my best friend,” Yeosang added hastily.

“You meant that?” Wooyoung asked quietly. “You said it, that night, at my place, but you’d been drinking and....”

And he’d been an oversharing emotional mess.

“I absolutely meant it. Would I have taken photos with you at the Potter café, if I didn’t?”

Wooyoung laughed. “A memorable sacrifice. Guess you’ll never want to visit Japan with me.”

The two of them? Visiting Japan. Together? Just them?

“What’s in Japan?” he asked nervously.

“Wizarding World of Harry Potter, of course.”

Relief flood through him. He’d been joking. Nothing more.

He ignored the twinge of disappointment.

“Hah! Pass.”

“Thank you, though, for calling. I was worried. Monday night, at the dance studio, all the attention. I thought you might’ve been so uncomfortable, you...I don’t know...wanted space?”

Yeosang winced. Right on the mark.

“Even if that were the case—not saying it is!” Stretching the truth this way and that wasn’t a complete lie. “It wouldn’t be your fault.”

“That’s not true. I had to explain why I needed my class covered last Saturday. Got teased for it. So...they might have built up some expectations, because of me.”

Wooyoung had talked about him? What had he said?

No. Better not to ask. Best to keep this conversation as light-hearted as he could.

“Hope I didn’t disappoint. All the giggling and glancing, I couldn’t tell.”

Yunho turned his head to gaze at him. “You made people giggle?” he asked, mouth twitching.

“There’s context, Yunho! Don’t make it weird.”

“You and Yunho are hanging out?” Wooyoung’s voice was less...bright? Maybe?

“We’re putting together a table.”

“A what?”

“A coffee table. Ordered it yesterday, arrived today. Thought we could take advantage of my free time tonight and, like I said, put it together.”

“I blame you, Jung Wooyoung,” Yunho called out. “Yeosang got all inspired by your ‘cozy apartment,’ started nagging me the morning he got back.”

“I did not,” Yeosang retorted. “Ignore him, Wooyoung. He’s being a brat.”

Yunho blew him a kiss. “When you’re my brat tamer? How can I resist?”

What the hell? Wooyoung was going to think—things!

“Jeong Yunho,” he hissed, feeling heat rising in his cheeks.

“Hm?”

“Shut up.”

Yunho leaned closer. “If you promise—”

“I will smother you with a pillow if you don’t stop.”

That smirk!

“Kinky.”

Yeosang glared at him. Stop it, he mouthed.

Yunho waved a hand in acknowledgment, then turned his attention—finally—to his phone, dropping the folded instructions on the floor.

Yeosang huffed out a breath. “Like I was saying, Wooyoung, ignore him.”

“He’s, um, kind of hard to ignore.”

“Regrettably so.” Yeosang sighed.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he replied immediately.

“You and Yunho. That livestream? You seemed close. Real close. And I know you said he’s just like that, but...is there really nothing between you? It seems crazy to ask. You wouldn’t have dated, if the two of you...,” Wooyoung cleared his throat, “unless you were in an open relationship? Which is absurd! Doesn’t seem like you at all! But I could be wrong, I haven’t known you that long, and if I am wrong, no judgment, I just—”

The horror that had been building in Yeosang burst forth. “You think I’m sleeping with Yunho!”

“No! Well. Maybe? You said, when we were at my place, that he was difficult to explain. So—”

“No. Absolutely not. Never.” How could Wooyoung even imagine anything like that? “I’d rather spend an entire paycheck at a Wizarding World gift shop than deliberately flirt with Yunho. No way in hell would I date him—and sleeping with him? No.”

The man in question was now laughing. Silently, but still. Bastard.

“You are a thousand times closer to my type than he is,” Yeosang added vehemently.

“I’m...what?”

Fuck.

“If you were my type, I mean! Which you aren’t. Anymore than I’m yours. I may forget things when I’m drunk, but I’ve got a good memory when I’m sober! First night we met, remember?”

“I do remember,” Wooyoung said slowly, “but—”

“See? Good memory! I just meant, on a theoretical scale, you’re closer to my type than Yunho is. That’s all.” Why couldn’t he stop talking? Oh, yeah. Panic. “I don’t want to date either of you, let alone anything else!” Lies, lies, lies, he needed to shut up! “But really, extra hard pass on Yunho. Love him as a friend, happy when he’s happy, but never. And you, you’re gorgeous and wonderful and charming and funny, but you’re my best friend and not my type, so—no to you, too. And I know you feel the same way about me!” Did that sound like he was complimenting himself? Dammit. “Not—not all the descriptions, just being friends and friends only, because I’m not your type. Right?”

He could hardly breathe—had he breathed while talking? He gulped in air and waited, nerves fraying, for Wooyoung’s response.

“I didn’t know you then.”

“No, but attraction is there, or it’s not. And when you have a type, and someone doesn’t come anywhere near close, what’s the point in dwelling?” Had he said enough to drown out any potential suspicions—or had he made it all worse? He couldn’t tell.

Maybe a bit more particular emphasis?

“I appreciated how you made it clear, from the beginning, that we’d never suit each other that way. Romantically.” Made it easier—back then. “I could talk to you about the blind dates and, well, anything, and never worry about...” Worry about what? What would sound believable? “Never worry about one-sided attraction or feelings. Because I told you about San. To repeat that? Be awful.” It was torment. “It’s an excellent thing, not being each other’s types, don’t you think?”

“Um.”

Was he going to say anything else? As Yeosang waited, he peeked at Yunho. The contemplative expression on his face promised questions he didn’t want to answer. And unlike Wooyoung, miles away, he couldn’t escape his flatmate.

“Wooyoung? You still there?”

“Yeah. Types aren’t always as fixed as one assumes.”

Wisps of hope? Not allowed. Not when he knew better.

“No,” Yeosang conceded. “Serim and Yeonjun are dating now, and they’re my exes. Would never have predicted that, before it happened. You’re more like them than I am.” Wrong direction! Wrong words! “I mean, if they’d dated someone like you, then each other, it’d make more sense. As a natural progression. But types can change. That’s what they said. The other day. When we were talking. About...things.” Fuck and fuck and fuck.

Yunho had moved closer. Too close. Yeosang shoved against his shoulder, but he didn’t budge. He scowled at him, but the now serious look on his face didn’t change.

When would he learn to stop while he was ahead?

“Are you saying I’m like your two ex-boyfriends?” Wooyoung sounded...intrigued? Puzzled? He couldn’t tell. It was maddening.

“In some ways...but that’s not the point! All I meant was if they’d dated someone like you, and then each other, it’d seem more logical than what happened in real life. Because I’m...different. From all three of you.”

“Huh.”

He needed to end this conversation. “I’ll agree types can...evolve? But ours haven’t.” On firmer ground, with that declaration.

“Because I’m not your type?”

Agree. Agree fast but not too fast! Be natural!

“No. You are very much not my type.”

Yunho poked him in the shoulder. He looked up, ready to hit him, then stopped.

Liar was the word Yunho’s mouth had shaped, but not spoken. His gaze dared Yeosang to deny it. He swallowed, and looked down at the floor.

“Anyway!” He forced as much lightness into his voice as he could. “This table isn’t going to build itself. No more worries, right?”

“No. I feel...relieved.”

Did he? Surely he did.

“Wonderful. I’ll text you this weekend, okay?” Stay cheerful, he reminded himself. Fake it.

“Okay.”

Wooyoung didn’t sound relieved. He sounded...tired?

But he’d had a full day of work. And then suffered through a rambling conversation. Anyone would be tired.

“Talk to you then!”

He ended the call and tossed the phone behind him, onto the couch. “Have something to say?” he challenged Yunho.

“You like him. A lot.”

Yeosang sighed. “I do.”

“And yet you lied. Repeatedly. Why?”

“Because I’m trying to get over him. I don’t want a repeat of the last two years.”

“The last two—wait. Wait. You mentioned San. Did you like him, too?” Yunho drew back his head, looking and sounding startled.

It was a minor satisfaction, that he’d kept the secret so well no one had ever guessed.

“I did.”

Yunho frowned “Do you still?”

“No,” Yeosang scoffed. “Why do you think I was suddenly interested in dating? It wasn’t exactly...appropriate, to have a crush when San dated other people, but since I never did anything about it?” He shrugged. “That changed when he met Mingi. They’re like...interlocking puzzle pieces. Or complementary colors on the color wheel. Or—”

“I get the picture.” Yunho slouched down, and leaned his head against a sofa cushion. “So all the people you dated, you were using them?”

“What? No.” Yeosang paused. Had he? He hadn’t had any serious intentions, at the beginning. “Ugh. Maybe for a while, but with the exception of Kim Sunwoo, I’d never have wanted a relationship with any of them. Why my friends chose some of those guys....” He shook his head.

“They did set you up with some winners.” Yunho observed dryly.

“Putting it mildly,” Yeosang muttered.

“But without their help,” Yunho paused, for a long beat, “how are you getting over Wooyoung?”

He stared at Yunho blankly. “I’m not following.”

“Well, you cured yourself of San with dates. Isn’t that the plan for Wooyoung, too?”

Date more strangers? To get over Wooyoung? Could he? Should he?

The mere thought made him feel sick.

Yeosang plucked at a loose thread on his sweater.

“I can’t,” he said softly.

“Mm-hm. Then...?”

“I don’t have a plan.” Worry and sadness made Yeosang’s shoulders slump. “I just thought...if I stayed away long enough, I could get used to the idea. Of not liking him. Be able to suppress it. So he won’t notice.”

“Avoidance was your solution?” Yunho snorted. “That’s so desperately stupid, there’s no way you just like him, Yeosang.”

More than like? Did he? Did he have stronger feelings? If he did, it made him more pathetic and pitiful. And more determined to keep Wooyoung in the dark.

“This wasn’t meant to happen! I was getting over San, not looking to...to fall for someone else.” He wavered, torn between wanting to tell someone and never voicing the thoughts aloud. “And it’s worse than with San. I never...never wanted him, like...like....”

“Like you do Wooyoung?” Yunho’s voice had gentled slightly.

Yeosang’s face flushed, but he nodded. “It’s wrong and I know it. He would never see me romantically or...or...sexually. Not that I’d want just that!” he added emphatically. “I’d never do friends with benefits with him. It wouldn’t be enough.” He shrugged helplessly.

His mind played back memories of that night, how warm and careful and caring Wooyoung had been. The heat of his hand at Yeosang’s waist during the waltz—enjoyable then, longed-for now. How comfortable and at ease and perfect it’d felt, to wake up wrapped in Wooyoung’s arms, and his hand on Wooyoung’s skin. If it had been real and not an accident, he could’ve slid his hand under the shirt and—

“The look on your face right now.” Yunho narrowed his eyes in amusement. “You are so fucked. And not in a good way.”

The blush, which had been fading, surged again. He glared at his flatmate.

“Thank you so much for stating the obvious. I feel so much better.” He started to push himself up from the floor—only to have a wrist caught by Yunho, and to be tugged back down.

“Not done mocking me yet?” he asked bitterly.

Yunho sighed, and pulled Yeosang toward him. And it wasn’t that they never hugged—just...it was rare, and his startlement silenced him.

“I’m sorry, Yeosang-ah. It isn’t funny.” He briefly tightened his hold. “It’s not a good situation. And it’s exhausting, isn’t it? Trying to figure out how to keep a distance for your sanity, but not so much it wrecks your friendship.”

Had Yunho ever experienced anything similar? He was such an open book, Yeosang found it hard to believe. But his voice and his words....

“It doesn’t feel possible,” he mumbled.

“Because it’s not. Don’t stiffen up on me. I’m not scolding you. It’s a simple fact. You can’t push away a part of your relationship. It all sticks together. If you’re going to end your friendship—which is what’ll happen with this uneven push and pull—do it now. Don’t hurt yourselves by dragging it out.”

Yeosang’s breath caught.

“I don’t want to lose him. I can’t.” His voice broke. Imagining a future without Wooyoung in it was impossible. He refused. But Yunho wasn’t wrong. If the situation was somehow reversed, and Wooyoung had distanced himself without any explanations, it’d eat at him constantly. The pain and self-doubt...they’d eventually be too much. He’d draw back.

If he wanted to stay friends, he couldn’t keep doing this. But....

“What other choice do I have?” he asked, wincing at the hopelessness threaded through his voice.

“You confess.”

Yeosang jerked away from Yunho and stared at him, wide-eyed.

“I know.” Yunho smiled wryly. “Last thing you want to do. But it’s the smart choice. Any friend who’ll spend hours, on freakishly short notice, cooking up a storm, instead of just paying for a nice food delivery, is pretty fucking dedicated, Yeosang. And it doesn’t take more than a couple minutes talking to him to know he adores you—”

“That’s the wrong verb,” Yeosang pointed out. Adore? Not possible.

“Aren’t you making assumptions?” Yunho retorted. “Don’t you adore Yeonjun and Serim and Haknyeon and—”

“Okay, okay! I get it. Friendly adoration exists.” His mind had jumped in entirely the wrong direction.

“It can. Though, to be balanced and fair, what if it’s more than friendly? I couldn’t hear him, but you provided a painfully classic example of friend-zoning earlier. With a dash of panic. What if his ‘type’ has changed to you, but all your protests have convinced him he’s got zero chance?”

“That’s not Wooyoung. He’d too confident for that.”

Yunho rolled his eyes. “You can be annoyingly closed-minded at times, Yeosang. Not that it matters. Trying and failing to resolve how you feel while still in stealth mode is making everything worse, isn’t it? So face it head on. Own up to it. Confess. If he doesn’t feel the same—don’t interrupt me—then that confirms what you believe. If, by some bizarre chance, he flips and ghosts you, he’s an asshole you’re better off without. But I bet he’ll be nice about it.”

 He hated how reasonable Yunho sounded. Confessing to Wooyoung? How? When? He’d be so embarrassed!

“Soonest done, soonest over,” Yunho added briskly. “Go call him back.”

“Now?” Yeosang demanded, a wave of fear crashing over him.

“Is later any better?”

He fidgeted with his sleeves, pulling them down to cover his hands. “Now?” he repeated weakly.

“After the conversation you just had? Yes.”

He bit his lip, and rose to his feet, feeling shaky.

Yunho gave him an encouraging smile. “I’ll wait on you, to finish the table together.”

Hah.

“Emotional support being the only reason.”

“Of course.” Yunho winked at him. “Now. Go.”

Yeosang took a deep breath, and turned toward the hallway.

He could do this.

He could do this.

He could do this.

He could...he could do this.

He had to.

***

The phone rang and rang. Odd. Unless Wooyoung was avoiding his call.... Yeosang spun around, his pacing increasing as his call hit voicemail.

Just say you need to talk. And to call you back.

Beep.

“I like you.”

Yeosang jerked the phone away and stared at it in horror.

But now there was silence. Hurriedly, he brought the phone back up.

“I, uh, yeah. I like you. More than...more than I should. More than friends like each other. I like you, though I know I’m not your type.” Breathe, he reminded himself. “I...I lied when I said you weren’t mine. My type! I meant my type! Not ‘mine’ like possessive, I’d never—” He was getting off-topic. He plopped down on the bed and squeezed his eyes shut. He needed to stay focused. No distractions. Get it done.

“I didn’t think you were my type, when we first met. Because San. But...you really are more my type—as far as I have one—than he ever was. You and Yeonjun and Serim—mischievous, playful, talkative, more daring than I am, but it all balances out. You care so much, Wooyoung-ah....” He sighed. “More than I deserve, for having messed up like this.”

“I lied...because I panicked.” He gulped. “Because I was scared. I am scared. Telling you this. That it’ll shock you. Bother you. Make you...pity me. But Yunho said it was better to confess than to keep putting a distance between us and he was right. I don’t want to lose my best friend over...over an overgrown crush.” He faltered to a stop. Dishonesty? Now? “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s more than a crush—but the principle is the same!”

“I’m working on getting over it. This whole one-sided liking thing. It’s hard. I hope you can forgive me. You did warn me! And then...yeah. Please be patient? I will overcome this.” He had to. He simply had to. “I promise. I won’t let it burden you. I won’t bring it up again. Though I might sometimes get, um, awkward. Because you’re you and I wish...well. It doesn’t matter.” The only important issue was keeping their friendship strong enough to withstand this setback.

“I’ll get over you, Wooyoung-ah. And we'll be comfortable again. I mean it. But I need...time. If you could pretend not to know, somehow? That would be best, I think? But telling you, I don’t have to avoid you anymore. I hate not spending time with you when we have the chance. I miss you so much.”

His voice was going wobbly.

Yeosang cleared his throat.

“The last week and a half, not hearing your voice every night—I didn’t like it.” Why did he say that? Not necessary. Not reassuring to Wooyoung! “That probably sounds weird, doesn’t it? I mean it as friends, too, though! I won’t read into anything you say or do. I know better. Um. So. Yeah. I feel kind of...no, extremely embarrassed now. I’m just. Gonna go. But we will get back to just friends, Wooyoung. I swear it.”

With a trembling hand, he drew the phone away again, and opened his eyes long enough to locate and tap the end call button.

He’d done it.

He probably wouldn’t hear back for a while. A lot for Wooyoung to process.

There was some feeling of relief, that he’d said all he’d needed to say—and more. He flinched at the thought, then shook his head. It was done.

He opened his eyes fully and stood up.

He had a table to finish putting together.

***

“I think it looks better here.”

Yeosang slowly swept the living room with a level gaze. “I don’t know that location matters in a room this barren.”

“Then why do you keep nudging the table with your knee?” Yunho asked, crossing his arms, his mouth quirking in amusement.

“Well.” He paused. “I don’t know.”

His phone vibrated again, and Yunho laughed.

“What did you say in that voicemail, to have Wooyoung blowing up your phone?”

Yeosang pushed the table a couple inches to the right and stared at it, avoiding eye contact.

“Did you confess your unwavering love, Yeosang-ah?”

His head snapped up and he frowned at Yunho, who smirked back. Damn. He’d reacted too easily to that.

“No. Just...that I liked him more than friends, but not to worry, because I was going to get over it.” His stomach rumbled. “I’m hungry. You?”

“I could go for ramyeon,” Yunho said agreeably, nudging the table back to its original position.

The phone rang. Yeosang glanced at it and grimaced. Why was Wooyoung doing this?

“I don’t think your boy—best boy,” Yunho corrected, when Yeosang’s gaze flicked to him, “understood the ‘don’t worry’ part of your message.”

“No. It’s puzzling.” Yeosang grabbed his phone and switched the ringer off. Should he put it back down? Or keep it with him? He didn’t think Yunho would answer it. It wasn’t a joking matter. But if he thought it was getting absurd, he might...and then he’d demand Yeosang talk to Wooyoung. He was trying to avoid that.

He carried the phone with him to the kitchen and set it on the counter, near at hand. The screen again lit up with an incoming call. He didn’t dare decline it. Then Wooyoung would know he knew—not answering gave him plausible deniability. Sorry. I was busy.

In the 25 minutes it took to make and slurp down one bowl of ramyeon each, Wooyoung had called eight more times. He’d flipped the phone face-down after the fourth call, but been unable to resist sneaking a peek as he finished off the broth.

Ten calls, total. Seventeen text messages. He had said he needed time, hadn’t he? So what the hell was Wooyoung doing? Was he that freaked out? Or that determined to reassure him he didn’t pity him? Or...maybe...?

He shook his head. He refused to indulge in ridiculous fantasies. He wanted to read the texts, but also...not. Same with voicemail. Wooyoung had to give up soon, right?

He finished tidying up, rolling his eyes at Yunho’s absent-minded thanks as he took away his bowl to rinse. Thursday nights weren’t his typical nights out, but whoever had texted him a few minutes ago had made his flatmate’s eyes light up.

He scooped up his phone, deliberately not looking at the screen, and started toward his room. He could log onto—no. Wooyoung might check online.

Why was he doing this? It was strange and kind of...rude. Ignoring his pleas for patience and time and how it’d be most helpful if Wooyoung could pretend he didn’t know.

He wasn’t in the mood to scroll through Instagram or watch YouTube videos. Solitaire was boring. Online games were out for now, though he was bound to give up eventually.

Yeosang shoved his phone under his pillow—out of sight, if not out of mind—and surveyed his room. He hadn’t touched his e-reader in ages, but if he remembered correctly, there were a few unread books on it. That’d do for now.

Close to an hour later, he was yanked out of life on a terraformed Mars by a knock on his bedroom door. Looking up, he was unsurprised to see a grinning Yunho.

“Going out?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. A friend of mine wants company.”

Company. Right.

“Okay.”

He lifted the e-reader again.

“Yeosang.”

What more needed to be said? He gave Yunho his full attention. He hadn’t changed his clothes. Or styled his hair. Not a new “friend,” then.

“I am endlessly fond of you.”

“Um.” Yeosang set the e-reader on his desk. “Thank you?” What possible news was he going to drop that he prefaced it with that kind of statement?

“But,” Yunho held out a hand and shook a finger side to side, “you’re a damn idiot, and it’s really past time you and Wooyoung figure your shit out.”

He blinked. “You sort of...said that, earlier?” More or less. “That’s why I called him? And...confessed?”

“Yeah, see, that’s fine. But then you didn’t answer his calls or his texts, and I thought we agreed avoidance was stupid and useless as fuck.”

“I’m not ready, yet. And he wasn’t supposed to respond tonight!” Yeosang pressed his fingertips together, trying to control prickles of anxiety. “You’re going out anyway, so why does it matter?”

“Oh, it doesn’t, not to me.” Yunho’s voice was breezy. “But I thought you’d like a head’s up that Wooyoung will be here any minute.”

Yeosang stood up so quickly, his chair toppled over.

“He what?”

“You wouldn’t answer, so he texted me.” Yunho shrugged.

Shrugged. Like it was nothing.

His heart started to pound, adrenaline pouring through his body.

“And you told him to come over?” He could barely get the words out.

“Nah. He asked if you were here. I said yes. He asked if I minded if he stopped by. I said no problem. Just buzzed him into the building.”

Yeosang stumbled forward, feeling dazed and light-headed. When he was face to face with Yunho he asked the only question in his mind.

“Why?”

“He’s your best friend. And he asked nicely. Please take this opportunity to—well, do whatever you want. I won’t be back tonight.”

What the hell kind of implication was that!

“I would never,” Yeosang began hotly, to be silenced by a wave of Yunho’s hand.

“Never say never. Miss a lot of fun that way.”

Yeosang stared at him, speechless.

“I’ll stay to let him in. Give you time to find those clever wits of yours. You can handle it. I have full faith.” Yunho smiled broadly at him, clapped a hand to his shoulder, then turned toward the living room.

Yeosang stepped back. Once. Twice.

Any minute—no, any second—Wooyoung would be in his apartment. It’d be just the two of them. No hiding. No avoiding. No pretending.

Fear and worry gnawed away at him. How could he possibly handle this conversation? No other reason why Wooyoung would venture out, this late at night. It had to be getting close to 10:00!

He heard the front door open, a brief exchange, and then the door shut.

Then nothing.

Echoing nothing.

Until.

“Yeosang?”

He closed his eyes tightly for a brief second, then took a deep breath. Step by reluctant step, he forced himself out of his room, down the hallway, to the edge of the living room.

Wooyoung stood by the door, his shoes still on, restless anxiety in every small shift of his body.

“You....” Yeosang swallowed. “You can...take your shoes off. You can...sit on the...sofa. If you want....”

Wooyoung crouched down, and quick as thought, shucked off his shoes, then glanced warily up at Yeosang.

“Only if you’ll be there, too. The sofa, I mean.”

He hadn’t planned on it, but towering over did seem...very rude.

“I...I guess...?” Slowly, every second feeling too long and too short at the same time, he made his way to the couch and sank down, pressing his body to the armrest.

Cautiously, Wooyoung approached, and mirrored his position, at the opposite end.

And then...nothing.

Silence.

Again.

“Why...are you here?” Yeosang ventured, his eyes fixed on the floor. “I thought the message I left explained...everything? I...I meant it. All of it.” Harder, worse, more miserable, repeating it in person. “I don’t understand why you texted and called....why you came over....”

“I’ve never had a type,” Wooyoung said suddenly. “Not really. I only said it, the night we met, because you got freaked by my saying I liked you. That I wanted to get to know you. I only meant as friends. That night.”

Never...had...a type? Yeosang tilted his head ever so slightly, just enough to see Wooyoung leaning forward, his hands clenched into fists, his body radiating tension.

“I didn’t think it’d matter,” Wooyoung continued. “But how could I have known?” He let out a breathless laugh. “How could I have ever guessed meeting you would alter my whole life?”

His whole life? How?

Curiosity impelled Yeosang to turn his head a bit more. He could almost see Wooyoung’s face.

“Your life,” he murmured, trying to make sense of such a thing.

“Yeah. No way I could have known within two months of meeting you, I’d be analyzing your blind dates, but not cool with it, like I was at first. That faded. Got to the point I started hoping they were all disasters. Not realdisasters, more bad fits. Very bad fits. I didn’t want you calling and texting someone else. I wanted it to stay just us.”

Wooyoung exhaled shakily.

Just them? But—

“Friends hate losing friends like that,” Wooyoung added.

Ah. He’d expected that.

“But it started to get a little less friendly. And then that weekend.” Wooyoung’s voice dropped, softer and rougher at the same time. “At my place. The waltz. When you tripped. It took every ounce of willpower I had not to kiss you, Yeosang-ah. I knew you wanted me to. I saw it on your face. But you were drunk and that would’ve been wrong.”

He’d almost—he’d wanted—he’d known.

Heat spread from his chest, up his neck, to his face. He pressed his palms to his cheeks, trying to cool down, but it made no difference. Wooyoung had wanted to kiss him.

“Still won’t look at me, huh? Okay. You were drunk, so I couldn’t kiss you. And what if you forgot it? Like you forgot what I said, when you were falling asleep.”

“What...,” Yeosang took a breath, then tried again, “what’d you say?”

“That I needed to talk to you. That we needed to talk. I was going to tell you, oh, I don’t know exactly, but you wouldn’t have confessed first.”

Butterflies? More like rampaging mini elephants.

“Oh.” He could manage more than that, surely! “Still pieces missing, in what I remember. I don’t...I don’t recall that.”

“Well, you left early the next morning.”

Nice way to say he bolted.

“So...I wasn’t sure. Started second-guessing myself. Had I misread the night before? Didn’t think so. But maybe you’d changed your mind. Which you had a perfect right to do.” Wooyoung sighed. “And then the livestream. The way Yunho kept touching you. What he said. It looked like there was something there and I wondered—what if? It didn’t make sense, given why you’d crashed at my place, but still. Maybe.”

Yeosang slid his hands through his hair, tugging at the ends. “San was right.”

“What?”

“He texted me that night. Said people who didn’t know us, could get the wrong idea.”

“Ah, yeah. You made that clear earlier.”

When he’d been babbling on the phone. He winced. “I did, didn’t I?”

Wooyoung shifted position. Was he moving closer? Yeosang held his breath, hoping—ah. Just a few inches. He should look up. His best friend was laying himself bare, and he had his head down. He wanted to look him in the eye, wanted to reach out, reassure him, something, but he felt half-frozen.

“Yeah. You did.” Wooyoung cleared his throat. “And then I got a voicemail that nearly had me dropping my phone.”

Yeosang cringed. That long, long message.

“But you didn’t text me back. You didn’t pick up. So I had to come here. I had to make you understand. I do notwant you to get over me. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever.”

The intensity in his voice had Yeosang raising his head a little. He was almost there. “Not ever?”

Wooyoung shook his head. “What chance would I have,” he took a deep, slow breath, “of you falling in love with me, if you’re pushing me away?”

His head snapped up. His widened eyes locking with Wooyoung’s. He’d said love. Did he? Love him?

Wooyoung held his gaze, a smile on his face. “I know it’s scary. Friends to lovers. Works in dramas and movies. Not always real life. But please, Yeosang. Please give me a chance. I’ll—I’ll do anything.”

He was going to pass out. Slide to the floor, unconscious, because he kept forgetting to breathe.

He’d been wrong. Utterly and completely wrong.

Wooyoung...wanted him. Wooyoung...loved him?

Yeosang slumped against the sofa back, blinking. “I, um, need a minute. To process.”

“Right.” Wooyoung’s hands, which had relaxed as he spoke, twisted together.

During the waltz. When they’d slept together—oh, Lord, when he’d asked Wooyoung to sleep next to him, by then! But before that. During the blind dates! Serim was going to be unbearably smug. Serim. Something he’d said to Yeonjun and Serim.

“Um. How...how could you listen to me go on and on about the dates? If...if you already...?”

“It was fine at the beginning, but after falling for you?” Wooyoung smiled wryly. “Drove me crazy, but what was I supposed to do? You had zero interest in me at the time and I’d have been a shitty friend if I shut you down because I hated hearing it all.”

Wooyoung had endured all that. Because he had thought it one-sided. Maybe it had been, then. He wasn’t certain when his own feelings had started to change, only that he’d been oblivious to the fact that they had.

Yeonjun and Serim were never going to let him live this down. San wouldn’t be much better. All those times he’d made little comments....

Wooyoung had listened to him, just like he’d listened to San. Having a crush on your friend, you still wanted them to be happy. With you—or with someone else. Not that any of his blind dates had gone so well as to seem a threat.

Except for one.

“When I was talking about the good date with Sunwoo...?”

Wooyoung’s shoulders tensed, then relaxed. “Finest line I’ve ever walked between ‘encourage you to do what you want’ and ‘point out possible issues.’ The relief I felt when you decided against dating him! You have no idea.”

His heart belonged in his chest, not his throat. It needed to climb down.

“So. Um.” He toyed with the hem of his shirt. “What...what do you want?”

“Gonna make me repeat it? All right.” Wooyoung drew closer, and gently took hold of Yeosang’s free hand.

Fizzy shocks shot up his arm. Oh. Oh, wow.

“You said you liked me. Such wonderful words to hear. Don’t try to stop. Give me a chance. Real dates. Let me,” Wooyoung frowned slightly, seemingly searching for the right words, “court you. Be open to the chance of us becoming more. Much more.” He paused, briefly. “You can sleep over any time you want.”

Yeosang squinted at him dubiously. “With the intent to seduce me?”

“Well...if you want....” Wooyoung grinned, a wickedly promising glimmer in his eyes.

He swallowed hard and inched closer. “By ‘much more,’ what do you mean? Exactly?”

Any hint of teasing vanished from Wooyoung’s expression, and both his hands rose to cup Yeosang’s face.

“Boyfriends is too basic. Lovers too open-ended. There isn’t a single word for what I want. When I say ‘much more,’ I mean...two people in love. Forever.”

He wasn’t going to lose him. He didn’t have to be afraid. He—oh.

“Wooyoung-ah? What if I already love you?” he asked cautiously.

The tiny frown from earlier returned—only now, Wooyoung seemed confused. “You—you do?”

“I think I do,” Yeosang mused.

Wooyoung’s lips twitched. “Did you just now think it?”

“Don’t laugh,” he protested. “At least I realized it on my own! I told you before, I never thought I could!”

Wooyoung’s hands started to slide away, as amusement took stronger hold.

Honesty met with giggles was very rude.

“Wooyoung,” he said levelly, “I have the flat to myself all night.”

It took a few seconds for the words to sink in, but when they did, the laughter stopped abruptly.

Want was such a distinct expression, more focused than desire, more alluring than hunger.

Knowing Wooyoung wanted him was a delicious, giddy feeling. And a wonderful boost of confidence.

“We have work tomorrow.” Wooyoung’s voice was low and a bit raspy.

They did, but.... “Alarms exist for a reason,” he murmured, pressing himself closer.

One of Wooyoung’s hands slid to the back of his neck. “I’d have to take an early bus back to my place.”

“Mmm. Am I not worth it?”

Wooyoung chuckled, his other hand tilting up Yeosang’s chin. “My lovely, flirty Sangie. You know you are.”

“Do I?” Very deliberately, he pouted.

“You should never,” Wooyoung’s fingers tangled in his hair, “ever do that around anyone else but me.”

Eyes half-closed in anticipation, Yeosang hummed thoughtfully. “Why?”

“It’s cruel to anyone who can’t kiss you.”

Kissing. Exactly! Why weren’t they, yet?

“Wooyoung-ah....”

Closer and closer. Why was he tilting his head like—oh. Yeosang shivered when Wooyoung placed a kiss at the base of his throat. And then another, slightly higher. Another. Another.

Somehow, he had his hands on Wooyoung’s shoulders, his fingers digging in. More. He needed more.

“Please.” His voice cracked. “Please, Wooyoung.”

“I love.” A soft, slow kiss. “How my name sounds.” Higher, almost to his jaw. “When you start.” Almost. “Getting desperate.” At his jaw.

He whimpered. Hot. Everywhere was hot and burning.

“I love every sound you make.” A kiss right next to his mouth. “But then, I love you, so....”

The lightest brush of Wooyoung’s lips on his.

Not enough.

A second time, lasting longer.

Not. Enough.

A third time, and finally.

Finally.

Like drowning in fire.

He was melting, body aflame wherever Wooyoung’s hands touched.

“You feel good,” Wooyoung whispered, his fingers trailing along Yeosang’s waist.

The words and the touch made him gasp, and a gentle, persuasive pressure coaxed him into a deeper kiss.

Time vanished.

“You even,” Wooyoung’s breathing was ragged, “taste good.”

Words. Words.

“So. Do you.” Why did he stop?

“God, Yeosang.” Wooyoung pressed their foreheads together. “I could devour you.”

Scattered fragments of dreams flooded his mind. “That.” He gulped in air, struggling to regain coherence. “That works for me.”

Wooyoung groaned. “Don’t say that. Not now.”

“Oh.” Disappointment washed over him. “You’re right. Now won’t work.” Saying it out loud made the reality more frustrating. “Don’t have any condoms.”

Wooyoung laughed weakly. “We should slow down anyway. No need to rush.”

It didn’t feel like rushing. It felt perfect. And amazing. And, a little weirdly, almost overdue.

Which was...a thought.

Still sprawled on the couch, Wooyoung half on top of him, Yeosang wriggled experimentally.

“Yeosang-ah....”

Feeling less hazy and slightly mischievous, he offered an option. “Birthday gift, then?”

Wooyoung drew back. “Three weeks?” he asked, sounding dismayed.

Yeosang giggled.

“Evil man.”

“Your evil,” Yeosang pointed out, still smiling.

“Bane of my existence,” Wooyoung agreed. “And reason every day is beautiful.”

Wow. Yeosang stared at him, mesmerized. If he reached a few inches forward, he could grab him and pull him back in and—

“You.” Wooyoung hesitated. “You haven’t said it yet, you know. Your...realization.”

He hadn’t?

He hadn’t!

He scrambled to push himself upright.

“I do! Love you, I mean. I love you.” Sweet, dazzling words.

The joy and delight on Wooyoung’s face thrilled him. That much happiness, because of him?

Because of him....

“I love you,” Yeosang repeated. “You’re marvelous and wonderful and the absolute best kisser I have ever met.”

Wooyoung grinned. “I try to please.”

“You do,” Yeosang replied fervently.

“Hm.” Wooyoung regarded him thoughtfully. “We’re both a bit of a mess right now, aren’t we?”

Swollen lips, tangled hair, intense arousal—yeah, mess worked.

“So?”

“Where’s your room?”

Oh.

Yeosang stood abruptly, ignoring how his quick movement had Wooyoung smirking. Didn’t matter. He had a chance for more, he was taking it.

“Follow me.”

He forced himself not to run. That’d be...a bit much.

When Wooyoung looked around his room, his eyes lingered on the bed.

“No one but us here tonight?” he asked.

Yeosang shook his head, suddenly finding speech difficult.

“Good. You can be as loud as you like.”

A shudder ran through him. But hadn’t he said—

“Um...no condoms.” Which he’d change the very next time he was in a store.

Wooyoung gave him a gentle push, and, heart racing, Yeosang sat on the edge of the bed.

Sex wasn’t the only option, of course. He knew that. But he should let Wooyoung know in advance....

“I, um.” This was awkward. “I'm not loud. Never have been.”

“That’s the past, Yeosang-ah.”

Maybe he had a point. That kiss, after all....

“You like my mouth.”

“Yes.” His new obsession and addiction.

“Then trust me.”

Wooyoung sank to his knees.

Oh.

Oh, God.

Scorching heat swept him, head to foot.

“You might make some noise.”

***

Late January

“It took me five months to get comfortable with Minho-hyung. But you!” Yunho wagged a finger at Wooyoung. “You’ve only met him a few times, and you’re smiling and laughing as you text! And he’s letting you in his kitchen, to cook. No one gets that privilege! Thus! I must ask! What sorcery is this, Jung Wooyoung?”

Yeosang rolled his eyes. “I knew we shouldn’t have watched that courtroom drama after the Potter movie.”

“The Potter movie? It has a name, Yeosang.”

“Did he ever consider a major in acting?” Wooyoung asked, as he stretched out on the couch, his head in Yeosang’s lap.

“He should’ve.” He ran his hand through Wooyoung’s hair. “Did you change products?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. A shampoo-conditioner set Hyunjin swears by.” His phone buzzed again, and he picked it up.

“Ignored in my own living room,” Yunho declared.

“Our living room,” Yeosang corrected. “I pay rent.”

“Still being ignored.”

Yeosang shook his head, and continued carding his fingers through Wooyoung’s extra-silky hair. He made a mental note to thank Hyunjin.

“If the two of you are going to keep being domestic, I’m gonna go livestream.”

“Would you rather I pin Yeosang to the couch half-naked?” Wooyoung inquired, still tapping away at his keyboard.

Why?

“Tempting. Very tempting. But I’ve already walked in on that twice, and the mystery is gone.” Yunho waved a hand dismissively. “Pass.”

Of all the combinations of flatmate and love of his life, why did he wind up with these two?

He tugged sharply at Wooyoung’s hair.

His eyes flicked from the phone he was holding to Yeosang’s face.

“What’d I do?”

“‘Half-naked’?”

Wooyoung blinked. “You’d never agree to full nudity. Not on this couch.”

He sighed. “Nevermind.”

“Weird as fuck lovebirds.” Yunho sighed gustily. “You make me contemplate monogamy.” He paused. “Yeah, no.” He pushed himself out of the armchair. “I’m gonna go game.”

After his bedroom door clicked shut, Wooyoung sat up and swiveled around.

“Now that the idea’s out there—”

“Not ever on this couch,” Yeosang interrupted.

“I wasn’t referring to location.” Wooyoung raised an eyebrow.

They’d planned to laze around today.

But a change in plans wasn’t a bad thing.

It could be very welcome.

“He’ll have his gaming headset on for at least an hour,” Wooyoung commented, his smile growing at Yeosang’s continued silence.

“No blowjobs.”

“I know.”

Yeosang coughed. “I get too loud.”

Wooyoung’s eyes glittered with amusement. “Yeah, love. I know.”

It wasn’t that sex wasn’t as good. Far from it! But Wooyoung’s mouth?

Dangerous and sinful and just...just....

“Dammit, Wooyoung, now that’s all I can think about!”

“Well,” Wooyoung drawled, standing up, and pulling Yeosang with him. “You could consider it payback. All those nights his bedframe slammed against the wall. If he hears you? Fair’s fair.”

“It’d probably turn him on,” Yeosang grumbled.

“Not your problem if it does,” Wooyoung replied cheerfully, pushing Yeosang into his bedroom, and shutting and locking the door. “So. What’s it going to be?”

To be fucked or blown?

What a horrible dilemma.

He laughed softly. What a life.

“I love you, Wooyoung.”

“Oooh. Does that mean I get to choose?”

“The last time I said yes to that....” His mind filled with images and memories of sounds. “Yeah. You decide.” He started to unbutton his jeans.

“No,” Wooyoung murmured.

Yeosang stopped, shooting him a puzzled look.

“It’s been a while, since we took things very slow.”

That only meant one thing.

Wooyoung’s eyes raked over him. “That all right?”

"It's...good."

He had no objections. None at all.

Wooyoung beamed at him. “I love you. Every day, every way. In bed, out of bed. Awake, asleep. Happy, grumpy. All the time. But when you’re pleading and desperate.... Prettiest sounds I’ve ever heard.”

Coherent thought?

Nearly gone.

“How...start?”

“I think,” Wooyoung walked around him, thumb rubbing against his chin. “I think I should undress you. And if I kissed every inch of skin, as I went? What do you think?”

Hah. He flopped down on the bed, his legs unsteady. “I might...lose my voice.”

“Maybe.” Wooyoung leaned in and kissed his cheek. “But we’ll both love every second.”

He couldn’t deny that.

Didn’t want to.

“Wooyoung-ah?”

“Yeah?”

“Do your best."