04. ice cream is for kings

                                    

                                          
"Order whatever you fucking want," Wooyoung threw his bag on the floor next to the table he'd chosen for them, "it's on me."
                          
San wearily eyed the shop they'd entered. A couple of eyes had wandered over as a result of the slight noise Wooyoung had made, but the boy didn't seem to give a crap about any of their stares. He looked at ease, which was nothing close to how San was feeling right now.
                          
Wooyoung's eyes met his, calculating yet amused. He folded his arms over the circular table, a smile threatening to break over his face. "Are you just gonna stand there like an idiot, or are you gonna seat and order like a normal person?"
                          
Blood rushed into San's ears, and his face burned. He took the available seat across from Wooyoung, whilst the other male slid the menu over to him.
                          
"Order." Was his command. "The more it is, the better. I barely see you eat anything at lunch."
                          
San bit his lip, his stomach forming knots and getting all queasy because of Wooyoung's words. But, it was the good kind of queasy. That didn't even make sense.
                          
With Wooyoung's eyes on him like that, San's urge to pick at his nails grew more and more.
                          
Wooyoung's eyebrows raised. "Hmm?"
                          
"I -- " San inhaled. "I c-can't."
                          
"Why?" Wooyoung almost sounded offended.
                          
"I don't want you to...waste your money on me."
                          
"I'm not wasting anything," Wooyoung countered. "If anything, I've got too much money, it makes me sick."
                          
"...Then why can't you get yourself a new pack of cigarettes?" San asked before he could stop himself.
                          
Wooyoung just waved a dismissive hand. "Parents can't know I used their precious card to buy myself some cigarettes, I already screw up enough." He let out a gasp that caught San off-guard. "Shit, did I get too personal? We barely know each other, right? So just forget I ever told you this, okay?" He reached out and, ever so softly, poked San's wrist.
                          
Heat fizzled underneath San's skin at the touch, and it made him swallow. Hard. He coughed, hating the way a mere poke from Wooyoung made him feel. I'm such a fucking loser.
                          
"Okay..." His fists curled.
                          
"So, what are you ordering?" Wooyoung had already taken out his phone, his thumbs clicking over the screen.
                          
"Whatever you want," was San's reply. He was indecisive, and he didn't even want ice cream in the first place. "I don't even like ice cream that much, to be honest."
                          
Wooyoung looked up from his touchscreen, his expression baffled. It only made San a lot more anxious. "How the fuck can you not like ice cream? There are a bunch of different flavours you can choose from, and it always makes you feel better. Look -- " he then leaned it, and his close proximity left San feeling breathless, as weird as it sounded. Up close, his hair looked even softer, and San could spot a small mole right below his left eye. His skin appeared smoother too, and his lips glistened as a result of licking them a few seconds prior.
                          
"Hey, Choi. Are you even listening to me?" Wooyoung's words were like a verbal slap to San's face. He immediately recoiled, his heart moments aways from nearly popping out of his chest.
                          
He winced when Wooyoung lightly smacked his arm with the menu.
                          
"I was here trying to explain the absolute wonders of ice cream, and next thing I know, you're completely zoning out. That's why you're such a loser."