Archive of Our Own

Wooyoung doesn’t even care.

Why would he? All he did was love a man.

Sure, that man was a little rough around the edges. Maybe he had a few red flags that Wooyoung looked past, such as having several exes he called “crazy” or telling Wooyoung he was too loud, too “much,” or his spouts of anger so intense that Wooyoung always made sure to keep a pair of slip-on shoes near the front door.

Okay, so maybe he had a lot of red flags. But the worst of which was gaslighting Wooyoung into thinking it was all his fault that he was pulling away. If only Wooyoung could change, just a little, then maybe he could be nicer. Maybe things would be different.

The problem is that “just a little” can go on forever.

But he tried. He did. He wanted to make things right. He put his entire heart and soul into the relationship for months, trying to be good, trying to be what his boyfriend wanted, trying to make him happy.

Just for the fucker to cheat anyway.

And wouldn’t you believe he tried to blame Wooyoung for that too?

But Wooyoung doesn’t care. He’s better off without him. He knows this, even as he looks in the mirror at his face, eyes haggard and bloodshot from crying and lack of sleep. Hair and skin greasy from not finding the energy to shower. Clothes he hasn’t changed in three days hanging loosely off his body.

On some level, he feels free. He’s in his own apartment now. It’s not much, but it’s his. He gets to dress how he wants now, sing along to his favorite songs as loud as he wants without fear of judgment, can even arrange his dishes in the cupboard however he pleases and no one will get annoyed at him. He doesn’t care, he’s happy.

So why is he so sad?

A knock on his front door makes him jump. He forgot that anyone knew his new address. His friends Yunho and Yeosang know it, since they came over in the process of helping him move out of his ex’s place as fast as possible. His parents know it, but he doubts they’d come by unannounced.

But his ex also knows the address—Wooyoung gave it to him when he asked to come by to drop off a box of stuff that Wooyoung had forgotten. Looking back it was clearly a gimmick, a ruse just to continue to keep tabs on him, but Wooyoung had left one of his favorite jackets there in the rush and also some film that he could really use, especially now that he has less money to buy more on his own.

At the time he had weighed the risk as worth it. But now that he’s faced with this mysterious knocking, he’s not so sure.

Maybe it’s just Yunho or Yeosang bringing him food. Maybe it’s a package he forgot about. Hell, it could even be Hongjoong coming over to throw him in the shower and tell him to get his shit together. But Wooyoung secretly hopes it is his ex at the door, then he can finally give him a piece of his mind and tell him off properly.

Not that he cares, obviously.

But when he answers the door, his eyes are assaulted by a huge, vibrant monstrosity of bright colors and sprawling leaves and loose ribbons.

What the hell?

He blinks a couple of times before recognizing the shape through his bleary eyes as a large bouquet of flowers. He looks above them to see a stranger holding them. The flowers obscure pretty much his whole torso, so the only part of him Wooyoung can see is his face—all dark hair and sickly sweet eyes and frankly adorable dimples. The shock and confusion at being met with a stranger at his door is made worse by the fact that the stranger looks incredibly attractive, and he looks like, well… this.

“Hi,” the man says gently. “I have a delivery for, um, Jung Wooyoung?”

“That’s me,” Wooyoung says, tentatively reaching out to grab the flowers. It’s an arrangement of all roses—red, white, and pink in various shades, each more beautiful and radiant than the last. There’s a particularly lovely one on the top that he instinctively buries his nose into, taking a big inhale and savoring the dark scent.

Roses are his absolute favorite flower.

He peers at the card they came with to see who they’re from. The front of the card is a kitschy I’m Sorry sprawled in curly cursive, and printed on the back is a message:

I really wish you weren’t taking this so hard. <3 This doesn’t have to be the end of us, let’s make things right. Call me. :)

It’s signed with his ex’s name.

Wooyoung’s vision suddenly turns red. A blinding rage spreads throughout his body hot and quick, like a firework shooting off in the dark. He wouldn’t be surprised if literal steam were coming out of his ears.

So much is wrong with this message. Of course he’s taking things hard, he’s crushed. He’s allowed to be crushed. And sure, it doesn’t have to be the end, but it is, because Wooyoung says it is. Why can’t that be respected? And what does he mean “let’s” make it right? As if this were a collaborative failure; like Wooyoung had anything to do with this. He’s fuming at the complete and utter entitlement of this man thinking that he still has control over him.

Who does this asshole think he fucking is? This man thinks he can cheat on him, use him, blindside him, break his heart, and then act like a few fucking plants are going to make things all better? That Wooyoung is just going to lay back and accept this shitty excuse of an apology, as if things are fucking okay now.

No. Absolutely fucking not.

Wooyoung makes eye contact with the delivery man again, seething with anger, jaw set. What business does this guy have being so hot, anyway? A face like that (and a body like that too, Wooyoung can see it now that the flowers aren’t in the way)—he’s probably in a beautiful, loving, healthy, long-term relationship and maybe they’ve even adopted a dog or whatever. Dog’s probably fucking cute, too. The Delivery Hottie is practically flaunting his good fortune. Wooyoung wants to punch his imaginary happiness in the stupid face.

He knows the man at his door has done nothing wrong. He knows that intellectually. But unfortunately for him, Wooyoung is beyond furious and this man is directly in front of him, making him a viable target for his white-hot anger.

“This motherfucker never bought me flowers when we were together!” Wooyoung yells. “No matter how many times I begged!”

Delivery Hottie looks stunned at Wooyoung’s outburst, eyes widening even more as Wooyoung slams the door loudly, right in his face.

Wooyoung plops the vase of flowers on his kitchen counter as he stomps back to his bedroom. As good as it felt to get some of his anger out, he feels a little bad about yelling at the delivery guy. He’s sure he’ll feel worse about it later, though. For now, he faceplants on his bed and cries himself back to sleep.

***

There’s another knock on his door the next day. Probably around the same time as yesterday, if Wooyoung were paying attention to that sort of thing. That can’t mean this asshole sent more flowers, can it? Surely it must be one of his friends this time. Either way he’s curious, and he decides to check it out.

He crawls out of bed, placing his Switch next to his laptop, which is still open on a pet adoption site. Used tissues rain off of him as he gets up.

He pads through his kitchen to the front door, past the empty vase from yesterday. He had thrown the flowers in the trash when he woke up this morning, not able to even bear the sight of them without his skin metaphorically breaking out in hives. But the vase is nice, and it felt weird to throw something like that away. And hey, free vase.

He answers the door, somewhat surprised to see the same delivery guy from yesterday, holding a fresh new flower arrangement with a different card containing the words I’m Sorry scrawled on the outside.

“Hello, again,” Delivery Hottie smiles affably, holding the new bouquet out to Wooyoung. “Another delivery for you today.”

“Thank you,” Wooyoung sniffles, reaching out with both hands to take the flowers. Today the bouquet is a mix of pink peonies, orange roses, and white carnations, with smaller wild violets as accents and green fern leaves to tie things together. They’re beautiful. He wants to hurl them at the wall as hard as he can.

But he feels bad about yesterday. He looks up to apologize, but his tongue gets caught in his mouth when he really looks at Delivery Hottie’s face for the first time. Yesterday he could tell the man was handsome, but was too shocked and angry to truly appreciate his features. His soft smile puts his dimples on display and contrasts nicely with his bold eyebrows. His skin is perfect and his hair falls in a perfect coif on his head, expertly straddling the line between trying really hard and not trying at all. He’s wearing nice jeans and the shirt for the company he works for, serving as his uniform. If Wooyoung had to guess, the shirt was the biggest size they had but it’s still too tight around his arms and shoulders. He's exactly Wooyoung’s type, physically.

His demeanor is still sweet, but today he appears more tentative than he did yesterday, as if he’s afraid of Wooyoung. Which… would be fair, admittedly.

He wants to close the door and hide, both in shame at his past behavior and in embarrassment for looking the way he does around someone so hot and put-together. Instead he shakes his head a bit, getting a hold of himself.

“I’m sorry for yesterday,” he manages, running a hand through his hair. “I’m normally not… like that.”

The man laughs easily, giving Wooyoung a nice view of his teeth, which unfortunately are also perfect. It makes Wooyoung self-conscious about his breath, not remembering when the last time he brushed his teeth was.

“That’s alright,” says Delivery Hottie. “It happens more than you think. I’ve learned to have my guard up a bit whenever I deliver apology arrangements.”

Wooyoung nods lamely. He’s glad the man forgives him, but the knowledge that he was maybe expecting the reaction also makes him feel even worse, somehow.

“I’m Wooyoung, by the way,” he blurts out, and then winces. “But I guess you already knew that.”

Delivery Hottie laughs again, eyes turning into crescents. It’s contagious, and Wooyoung can’t help but smile with him. “I did. My name is San.”

“San…” Wooyoung can’t help but repeat him, trying his name out on his tongue. He ventures another look into San’s eyes, and feels butterflies erupt from somewhere deep in his stomach. San really is handsome. Stupidly so. It reminds Wooyoung of how lonely he is right now.

And horny.

It’s been over a month since he’s had sex with anyone. This San guy would be a good a rebound as any. His eyes wander down to San’s arms, wondering if they’re strong enough to hold him up against the wall or if his muscles are all for show. Wooyoung would really like to find out. He’d have to take a quick shower first, but maybe San could be patient for him.

“Hey, would you… want to come inside for a bit?” Wooyoung asks. He’s trying for flirty, but he guesses his attempt is thwarted by his poorly stifled sniffles.

“Um, I’m good. But thank you. Have a good rest of your day,” San smiles at him—too kind, given the situation—as he waves and walks away through the courtyard that serves as an outdoor hallway and out to the street, back to where his truck is parked, presumably.

Wooyoung is thankful the man left in a hurry, so that he can’t see how dejected he looks right now. He figured his flirting skills were probably rusty, but such a harsh reminder on his first attempt after the breakup feels like a punch to the gut.

He removes the flowers from the vase and tosses them in the trash, directly on top of the other ones.

***

He’s not really expecting San to come back today—how much money is his idiot ex going to waste on flowers, anyway?—but he does wash his hair and brush his teeth, just in case.

Sure enough, there’s a knock on his door in the early afternoon. He hangs out in the doorway of his bedroom for a couple moments before moving to answer, not wanting to look like he was waiting for San or expecting him.

He’s also nervous, since he feels bad about his behavior yet again.

His nerves increase twofold when he opens the door to see San’s charming smile alighting his gorgeous face.

“Delivery for Jung Wooyoung,” San says, holding a fresh new bouquet out to Wooyoung. This one is all white—white chrysanthemums and white carnations and white roses, some baby’s breath, some daisies, and plenty of fresh, green, leafy accents to balance it out. Wooyoung brings it up to his face to bury his nose in a fragrant rose once again. He peers over the flowers to hesitantly look at San.

“I’m sorry for yesterday,” he says sheepishly, face still buried in the bouquet. “Again. That was probably not cool of me to assume like that. I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable.”

San smiles at him, understanding and compassionate, neither of which Wooyoung thinks he deserves. “You’re totally fine,” he says. “That’s not the first time I’ve been yelled at, it’s also not the first time I’ve been invited inside someone’s place. Although usually it’s well-meaning ahjummas who make a pass at me, not cute guys my age.”

So San thinks he’s cute. Maybe Wooyoung does still got it.

“It’s not the first time you’ve been invited inside… Have you ever taken someone up on that offer?”

“Jung Wooyoung!” San mock scolds him, eyes crinkling into crescents again as he laughs. “I’m not one to kiss and tell.”

“Fine, fine,” Wooyoung laughs along, really laughs, for the first time in he doesn’t know how long. His real laugh, high-pitched and squeaky, feels rusty after such a long time of non-use, of suppression. But it feels a bit like reuniting with an old friend. It also feels good to flirt a bit, to get to know someone new with low stakes, so he doesn’t let up right away. “Well, my offer still stands if you ever feel open to it.”

San’s cheeks puff out shyly, a reaction Wooyoung can’t help but find incredibly endearing. “We’ll see,” he replies. “Have a nice day, Wooyoung,” he says as he turns around and strolls through the courtyard. Wooyoung barely manages a “You too,” over the butterflies creeping their way into his throat.

Closing his door, he places the flowers on his kitchen counter, next to the two other empty vases. He recycles the card attached without even looking at it, but decides to leave the flowers this time.

They’re a nice reminder of San, he thinks, frequently glancing at them while he heats up an easy meal for himself on the stove.

***

He eventually throws those flowers out too, though, in a moment of rage after accidentally seeing a picture of his ex on his Instagram feed, posted by one of their mutual friends.

His rage is shifting though, changing form. It looks more like resolve now, as he stares at his growing collection of empty vases. They’re perfectly nice vases, so why should they be empty? He has free will, he can buy himself some damn flowers to fill them with.

So he will.

With a newfound determination, he brushes his teeth, combs his hair, and puts on real clothes for the first time in who knows how long. He’s excited to buy something nice for himself. What else should he get at the store? He should probably be eating something other than instant ramen for a change. Maybe some stuff for sandwiches? Maybe he’ll even go all out and buy some kind of fruit?

He rushes out the door, knowing that if he doesn’t all but throw himself outside he might think twice about leaving and back out. In his haste, he nearly bumps into… San? Somehow San is already standing at his door, holding a large new bouquet of flowers, raised hand about to knock on the door.

“Oh, hey,” Wooyoung says, managing a calmness out of somewhere despite his suddenly racing heart. “It’s you again.”

“It’s me again!” San answers. He gestures with his gaze to the flowers in his hands. “Dang, this guy is really desperate, huh? He must have messed up pretty bad.”

“He sure did. We just broke up because the fucker cheated on me.” Wooyoung reaches out to grab the new flowers, hardly bothering to look at them this time. He can’t help but notice a lot of orange though, out of the corner of his eye. “He probably has before too, honestly, this was just the time I was able to find out about.”

“Oof, that sucks,” San winces. “You deserve better than that.”

“Thank you, I agree,” Wooyoung says emphatically, trying not to make pointed eye contact with San as he says this.

He fails, of course. What, he’s supposed to pretend like he doesn’t think San is a much better match for him, even based on the little he knows?

But to his surprise, San actually stares back at him for a moment, eyebrows slightly furrowed in thought. It’s not an outright rejection this time, and Wooyoung allows his hopes to rise—just the tiniest bit.

“Well, I should be going then.” San appears to shake himself out of whatever reverie he was having. He does so physically, with a little twitch of his head and a pink tinge to his cheeks, things that Wooyoung finds adorable despite the butterflies in his stomach quickly freezing and turning into sleet. “I’ll see you around? Maybe?”

He’s already heading down the courtyard as he says it, leaving Wooyoung to give him a tiny wave in response.

Wooyoung shuts the door and gingerly places his new flowers on the counter with shaky hands. His butterflies may have been killed, but he’s finding such healing in the fact that he is able to feel butterflies at all, after everything that happened. So he refuses to let this interaction deter him. He bolts back out of the door again, into the refreshing, warm spring air.

The nearest grocery store is a short walk away, probably around ten minutes. He didn’t expect to enjoy the walk much, but quickly finds that the warmth of the mid-spring sun against his skin does wonders to lift his spirits. He also notices the colorful flowers blooming on the sidewalks and in people’s gardens, and he shyly thinks he can kind of relate to them—he too might just be starting to bloom, into a bright new blossom after months in the dark, wet dirt. It’s tough, for sure, even painful sometimes as he stretches and expands, but he can feel himself growing in real time.

He's missed the beginning of spring, it seems, being sad and alone in his apartment. It’s then he wonders—why should that loser continue to have such a hold on him anyway? What good does being sad do about anything that happened to him? He’s healing and getting to know himself better, and that’s awesome. Plus, he’ll find someone else to love when he’s ready for it. There’s plenty of good people out there, people who will treat him right. People like San.

Like San?

Oh.

It’s embarrassing, he thinks, how easy he is. How quickly he can move on at the prospect of something shiny and new. But what’s the harm in a little crush? Especially when said crush is really doing wonders to get him out of bed and motivated. He’s not doing this for San, not necessarily. He’s doing it for himself. But seeing a handsome face consistently the past few days has certainly been a helpful factor in getting his motivation back.

And a crush is progress, he thinks. It’s proof that maybe one day he can find love again, maybe even fall in love again. That maybe one day someone will love him back, the right way. Maybe someone who isn’t awful.

He pulls out his phone and quickly opens a new tab to a therapist directory, as a reminder to scroll through the site later. Probably time to sort some shit out, he thinks.

When he gets home, he spreads his newly obtained flowers (all roses, as many colors as they had) amongst the several empty vases. He also divides his most recent bouquet of mostly orange flowers (and some purple, it turns out) as little accents to stand out amongst the roses, and as he picks apart the bouquet he chooses to think of San instead of his stupid ex-boyfriend. He stands back and admires his kitchen counter. Both the apartment and himself feel much brighter than they did this morning.

“Dammit!” he mutters to himself after a few moments. He forgot to buy fruit.

***

San starts to come by every day, a unique, gaudy bouquet in his hands each time. Seems like Wooyoung’s ex is working his way through all of the website’s listings. Wooyoung finds himself starting to look forward to it, and getting himself out of bed and washed and dressed just to prepare. Usually any residual mopey feelings are eradicated at the prospect of seeing his hot new crush in just a few short hours.

One time, San arrived while Wooyoung was in the middle of cleaning. More specifically, running laundry while handwashing his new floors for the first time since moving in. The apartment was ostensibly cleaned by the former tenant, but three sets of shoes moving boxes in for the better part of a day managed to get the floor pretty dusty, and he’s grown tired of it clinging to his socks and bare feet. It also seems he didn’t bring a mop with him or buy his own yet, so here he is on all fours scrubbing the floors by hand.

He doesn’t mind, surprisingly. It feels good to do such a laborious and physical project, just for himself—it makes him think he should work out at some point soon. It’s also extremely inefficient, which his ex would have hated, and this brings him a kind of sick joy. He can feel it bubbling deliciously in the bottom of his chest, like he just dropped a bath bomb in his stomach.

San knocks just as Wooyoung is cleaning up the mess from a spilled bucket, that somehow managed to get more soapy water on him than it did the floor, it seems. Too excited and not thinking things through, he jumps up off the floor to answer the door, despite the fact his whole front half is still soaking wet.

“Delivery for Jung Wooyou—” San says automatically before cutting himself off. Wooyoung blushes, suddenly embarrassed at his messy appearance. He realizes he’s been sweating a bit too with his effort, but it can’t be that bad, can it?

“Thank you~,” he drawls sweetly as he makes grabby hands for the flowers, giving San a big smile that falters a bit when he feels a clump of bubbles drip down onto his shoulder. How did he manage to get suds in his hair of all places?

“Y-you’re welcome,” San stammers, blush crawling down to his neck. “I’ll see you around, okay?” And with that he rushes off down the outdoor hallway.

Huh. That was weird, Wooyoung thinks as he pouts down at his flowers. The bouquet today is one of the gaudier ones, a mix of roses and lilies. He figures San must be extra busy delivering flowers today, and he busies himself with picking apart his newest arrangement and dividing the flowers between his existing vases, giving them each a unique and novel look. He admires his work, briefly wondering if he should switch to a career as a florist, before returning to his project of scrubbing the floors.

Another time, Wooyoung had just finished cooking something. He feels immensely proud of himself—it’s been a good minute since he cooked a proper meal for himself, and he hadn’t realized just how important cooking seemed to be for his mental health. He accomplished something! And he didn’t have to worry at all about someone hovering over his shoulder to critique it.

He had just turned off the stove when he heard the familiar knock on the door. He skips over and opens it with a big smile.

“Hey there,” he beams.

“Hi,” says San, smiling warmly, cheek dimple on full display. “Delivery for Jung Wooyoung.”

“Yay!” Wooyoung takes the bouquet from his hands—it’s a vividly colored mix of peonies and freesia today. He pulls one out to hold up to his nose, before setting it on the entry table next to his keys. He looks up at San again, all silky hair and poreless skin and too-tight uniform shirt. Wooyoung indulges in his butterflies and wonders what it might be like to kiss him.

“It smells good in here,” San comments, politely trying to not poke his head inside.

“Oh, thanks! I just made some soup. I’m pretty proud of it, honestly,” he looks to his food waiting on the stove. “It’s been a long time since I’ve cooked just for me.”

San gives him a sad little smile at that, and Wooyoung almost finds himself asking if he wants to come in and eat with him. He stops himself though, not wanting to spook him again.

“So…” Wooyoung starts awkwardly. He doesn’t have a plan for how to finish this sentence, but he also really doesn’t want San to leave yet.

“So?” San’s grin widens, amused.

“Do you like your job?” he tries.

San hums in thought at that. “I do.”

“You don’t seem so sure.”

“I mean,” San laughs. “I like it. It’s just… not what I would choose for myself, you know?”

“I’m not sure I do,” Wooyoung giggles. He’s thrilled at the prospect of learning more about his mysterious, sexy crush. “Tell me.”

“Well, like,” San starts, eyebrows pressing together adorably. “My parents own this flower shop, right? They always have. I grew up around it. It’s a fun bonding thing with them and with my sister… and, who doesn’t like flowers, you know? And there’s a lot about it I like, I enjoy making arrangements and creating something beautiful, and it’s amazing that I get to brighten people’s days and help them celebrate, or make them feel better. But we never talked about me taking over, they just kept adding on more and more duties. And I’m happy to do it, but it bothers me that it was just kind of… assumed?” Suddenly San stands up straight, pink dusting his cheeks. “I’m so sorry! You didn’t ask for all of that, did you? I’ll let you go now.”

“No, no!” Wooyoung reassures. “I like listening. It sounds like you don’t have many other people else to talk about this with, yeah?”

So Wooyoung’s fishing. Sue him.

“Yeah,” San breathes out a laugh. “Not really.”

“What would you be doing? You know, if you could choose?”

“I don’t even know,” San runs a nervous hand through his hair. “College, maybe? I’ve always wanted to study music. Or open a coffee shop? Or this, honestly! It’s not even that I don’t like doing this, I just wish I could choose it.”

“Maybe you just need a break from it?” Wooyoung knows it’s not his place to give advice, but he can’t help it. “Explore some other things, see if you like those, and if not, this will always be waiting for you.”

“Yeah.” San’s thoughts are so loud. “You might be right, actually.”

They exchange gentle smiles.

Other times, they just talk for a bit. It starts as small talk, but eventually gets less and less small. San complains to him about work, about his parents, about annoying customers. Wooyoung tells him all about his breakup, and finds San’s unique mix of being personally offended for him at the things he’s gone through while at the same time treating the stories like juicy gossip strangely comforting. He doesn’t feel pitied or babied by him, it’s nice. Wooyoung learns San is more than just eye candy, that he’s a good person too.

He learns that he likes San.

He likes how San laughs at his jokes, even when he doesn't think they're that funny. He likes that San seems to really, genuinely care about the people in his life. He likes the way San looks at him, how it looks like he’s really listening, like he doesn’t have anyone in the world that he’d rather be listening to.

One day, after two straight weeks of daily deliveries from San, Wooyoung learns San has a cat.

“Let me see, let me see!” Wooyoung begs, practically shoving himself at San through the door. “I know you have pictures of them, I want to see. What’s their name?”

“Her name is Byeol.” San’s smile is huge and bright. “I do have pictures, but I actually really need to get going. We have a ton of deliveries today since it’s a holiday. But I can show you tomorrow, alright?”

“Yes, okay, fine,” Wooyoung relents easily, not wanting to keep the man from his job or get him in trouble. “But you better show me or else I will write your shop a bad Yelp review and mention you by name.”

San throws his head back on a laugh. “I’ll show you, don’t worry,” he promises, walking backwards through the courtyard.

***

The next day, Wooyoung answers the knock on his door with a bright smile to find… Yunho? Yunho who Wooyoung is also happy to see but certainly wasn’t expecting. Yunho who pushes past Wooyoung to let himself in. Yunho who flashes his charming smile, the one that always acts like a soothing lotion on all of his burning nerves.

“What are you doing here?” Wooyoung asks, wrapping him in a hug.

“I came to check on you.” Yunho hugs back before taking a seat on Wooyoung’s couch, the one that they found secondhand for cheap and carried in here themselves. “We haven’t heard from you in a while. How are you doing?”

“I’m doing kind of great, actually,” he says honestly.

“Yeah? You’re eating?”

“Yep.”

“Showering?”

“Yep.”

Yunho looks him up and down. “You do seem clean. And the flowers in here are nice.”

“Thank you. I’m doing well, I mean it.”

“Well, okay. I believe you, just, text us more, okay?” Yunho puts a hand on his shoulder. “Even Hongjoong was starting to get worried about you. But you seem… good. Really good. Something’s weird here. What’s going on?”

“I’ve always been good, I never even cared that much.”

“Wooyoung,” Yunho says seriously. “Three weeks ago we had to bring you your mail because you were too sad to go outside to the mailbox.”

“Yeah well,” Wooyoung stares at his feet. “I’ve moved on.”

Yunho takes a second to piece things together. “Wooyoung, who were you waiting for just now?”

Wooyoung freezes, knowing he’s been caught. Damn Yunho and his incredible perceptiveness, can’t keep anything from him. But it’s not like he’s trying to hide San from his friends, he just… liked having something to himself for a bit. He’s getting used to having things just for himself now.

“No one.”

“You’re totally lying,” Yunho leans over, attacking Wooyoung’s side with tickles. “That’s why you seem so happy. Tell me who!”

He still stings from the past echoes of others’ judgment. But he hates that his reactions to his ex’s behavior are spilling over to his friends now too, so he decides to tell Yunho all about his little crush on San.

“Don’t you think it’s a little… soon?” Yunho asks, more concerned than critical.

“I mean, definitely,” Wooyoung relents. “But it’s not like I asked him to marry me. We’re just talking and he’s cute, it’s nice. And I think I deserve to have something nice right now, especially when it’s literally knocking on my front door.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Yunho smiles.

“I actually have been doing a lot better. I’ve been cooking, unpacking boxes, I’ve even worked out a couple times. I think I’m gonna be okay,” he says. And he means it.

He feels his shoulders relax. He really means it.

“Now get out of here,” Wooyoung gets off the couch and starts pushing Yunho toward the door. “He’s going to be here any minute and he said he’d show me pictures of his cat and I don’t want him to see another man in my apartment and get the wrong idea.”

“Fine, fine,” Yunho laughs. “I’m going. Just, call me soon? Please?”

“I will,” Wooyoung promises. He feels bad for accidentally neglecting his friends. But it’s been hard to juggle everything lately while he’s still recovering.

Yunho leaves and Wooyoung busies himself with doing dishes while he waits for San to arrive.

Only, San doesn’t show up that day.

Or the next day.

Or the day after that.

At the end of the third day of no San, Wooyoung sends a text to his group chat with Yunho and Yeosang, asking if they can hang out tonight. They reply immediately, bless them, and want to take him to his favorite restaurant. They end up going to karaoke afterwards too. They even manage to get Hongjoong to come out with them.

(Hongjoong assures them that no, he’s always loved karaoke and it has absolutely nothing to do with the tall, pretty bartender working there who he matched with on Hinge recently.)

Wooyoung knows Hongjoong cares about him, though, and that’s at least most of the reason he’s here.

At some point in the night, he picks a song where everyone ends up joining in. Him and his friends all have their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders, swaying back and forth with the music, belting the heartfelt tune at the top of their lungs. Wooyoung feels so grateful and overjoyed to have friends like this in his life. He’s missed being so close with them. He feels so lucky to have met them at all.

His thoughts drift to San, of course, but just for a bit. What happened to him? He misses him, but wonders if he has a right to. What did they even have? Was the thing blooming between them even real? Maybe it was just in his optimistic imagination, in his yearning, guileless brain that dares to love, despite everything. He wonders who might be out there for him, San or otherwise.

He glances over at Hongjoong and his bartender making lovesick eyes at each other, basking in the all-encompassing, full body sensation of surrendering to something new. And the thought passes through Wooyoung’s mind, as if placed there by someone else, how wonderful it is that I haven’t met all of the people who will love me yet.

As if on cue, a man slides into the seat next to him, so close their knees are touching. Surprisingly, Wooyoung finds he doesn’t mind at all—seeing as this guy is hot. He’s huge, for one, tall frame dressed in a sleek white button down and black jeans that fit him perfectly, along with a host of rings and necklaces that jingle with every movement. He looks at Wooyoung like a tiger about to pounce, and feels his lungs tighten in excitement and anticipation.

And then the man smiles, big and goofy, and Wooyoung’s lungs tighten even further at that.

He introduces himself as Mingi. They start talking, and he’s nice too, which is kind of annoying if Wooyoung is being honest. You can’t be sexy and silly and sweet, pick a lane. After a while he forgets all about his ex, and he almost forgets about San too. He’s embarrassed that San disappearing feels like another breakup, but he blames it on still feeling raw and sensitive and hurt from his relationship. And if San really is gone, then it’s about time he starts trying to get back out there in a real way, anyway.

And then Mingi throws an arm around his shoulder and leans in close enough that Wooyoung can smell the cologne on his neck. His heart starts to race as his gaze slips down toward Mingi’s plush lips, then back up to his hungry eyes. He vaguely hears Hongjoong start to yell at him that it’s his turn to go up, but Wooyoung just shoves the microphone into Yeosang’s chest and tells him to sub in for him.

They leave before Yeosang’s even done with the song.

Thankfully, Mingi doesn’t live too far from the karaoke spot. Before he knows it they’re tangled up on the man’s bed, lips and tongues attacking each other.

And it feels nice. Really nice. It’s been so long since Wooyoung has kissed anyone, let alone while feeling this much fire in his belly, this much passion. Butterflies awaken in his stomach. He’s missed kissing. And Mingi is really good at kissing.

Soon he’s on his front, face shoved into the mattress and hips high in the air, Mingi’s tongue and skilled fingers buried deep in his ass. There’s drool and lewd moans spilling from his mouth as Mingi licks and stretches him open. His aching cock leaks onto the sheets below; Wooyoung can’t remember the last time he felt this good.

Until, for some stupid reason, an image of his ex’s face pops into his mind.

His eyes shoot open, and he tenses. No no no, why? Why? He tries to will away the image. He knows it’s Mingi behind him, but he just met him, he’s having a hard time visualizing his face. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to think of someone else. Anyone else.

Is it a surprise that it’s San who comes to mind?

He feels bad about imagining that it’s San adding a third finger inside him instead of Mingi, but as he does so he feels the anxiety drain from his body, and he views that as a win. He relaxes again, letting the sensations feel good again.

Until Mingi flips him over, and then Wooyoung feels… nothing.

He knows Mingi’s hot—extremely so, infuriatingly so—but when he looks in his eyes now he can’t conjure up any feeling. There’s no spark, no butterflies. Just a very beautiful person that he would very much like to fuck, but…

Can’t.

Mingi starts to line himself up with Wooyoung’s entrance, but Wooyoung puts a gentle hand on his face and says, “Hey, uh…”

Mingi snaps to attention right away, meeting his eyes. “What’s up?”

He’s being nice enough about it, at least. Wooyoung’s heart thuds against his ribs, regardless. “I’m so sorry, I…” Wooyoung swallows dryly. “I just went through a breakup, and… I don’t think I’m quite ready for this. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no you… You don’t have to apologize. I get it.” Mingi runs his hands through his hair and sits back on his heels. He seems disappointed, but to his credit, he’s working really hard at trying to hide it. “Let me call you an Uber.”

After Wooyoung gets dressed, he lingers in the doorway to the bedroom. “I feel bad…”

“You shouldn’t,” Mingi shrugs, tugging his boxers back on. “I’m glad you said something. I don’t want you to go through with something you’re not stoked about. That sucks for both of us.”

Wooyoung smiles at that, and thanks him. He leaves Mingi his number too, just in case, but doubts he’ll hear from him.

On his ride home, Wooyoung’s anxiety returns. What does it mean that his butterflies went away? If he can’t feel a spark with someone like Mingi, what hope is there for him to have a spark with anybody? What if something somehow does happen between him and San, what if he can’t maintain butterflies with him either?

He was so excited for the love in his future. Does this mean he won’t find it?

It’s past midnight when Wooyoung stumbles through the courtyard and outdoor hallway leading to his apartment. There’s something at his doorstep, but he can’t quite make out what it is in the darkness. But as he gets closer, he sees.

A bouquet of flowers.

It’s an arrangement of a multitude of different flowers, roses and hydrangeas and tulips, ferns and thistles. There’s a card sticking out of the top, tucked in next to an iris. Wooyoung beams, despite his stomach dropping. He’s devastated that he missed San today, but more than that he’s thrilled that he’s returned. Tiny, baby little butterflies start to peak out from under his ribcage.

At least, Wooyoung assumes it was San who delivered them? The flowers certainly aren’t sent by anyone else he knows.

He goes inside and looks at the card to be sure. He hasn’t read any of the previous cards besides the first one—he never wants to hear a word from that asshole again if he can help it—but he’s also desperate for clues about San.

This card is a plain one, and has a lone phone number printed on the back, but no other message. This bitch, Wooyoung thinks. His ex must have gotten a new number and wants him to reach out to that one now. Couldn’t even be bothered to write a message this time. What an entitled prick.

Wooyoung throws the card in the recycling with all the others, placing the new flowers just as they are on his entry table, as a nice reminder of San.

***

The next day, Wooyoung jumps as he hears a familiar knock on his door. He hadn’t even noticed what time it was—he’s back at work now at his remote job, and was so focused on catching up that he didn’t realize the time that San normally stops by had come and went. It’s already well into the evening, now.

He hops up to get the door, heart hammering in his chest in anticipation but also trying to not get his hopes up. His heart feels like a tulip opening to the sun when he sees…

San.

San smiling brightly at him. San with his cute dimples and stupid body. San holding a fresh new bunch of flowers, a spectacular arrangement of so many different types of flowers in every color you can think of.

“Delivery for Jung Wooyoung,” San teases, familiar. After Wooyoung takes the vase of flowers from him, he adds, “And a bonus delivery too.”

“Bonus?”

“I still haven’t shown you any pictures of Byeol,” San winks. “You didn’t think I forgot, did you?”

Wooyoung did think he had forgotten. About the pictures, about him. But none of that matters now, because San is back.

He sets his flowers down as San pulls out his phone. Trying his luck while he has it, he leans in closes to San, so close that practically the whole lengths of their bodies are touching. Wooyoung feels his palms start to get clammy.

But San doesn’t move.

San scrolls through pictures of his cat—ones where she’s sleeping, ones where she’s laying in the sun, even videos of her chasing toy mice around. Wooyoung is enthralled by her, but more than that he’s distracted at the feeling of finally, finally getting to touch San. He gets to smell him too—palo santo, sage, incense—it’s even more intoxicating than all the flowers in his home put together. 

“Do you have any pets?” San asks. His head turns slightly in Wooyoung’s direction. He keeps swiping through pictures but keeps their bodies close together.

“Nah,” Wooyoung answers. “I had a cat but… I had to leave him with my ex. It was technically his cat anyway, but still. I miss him a lot.”

“The cat, right?” San looks like he’s trying not to look worried.

“Oh yes! The cat,” Wooyoung laughs darkly. “No, fuck that guy.”

San laughs and puts his phone away, backing up a bit. “Just checking. I’m really sorry you had to leave your cat behind. That’s terrible.”

“Yeah. It sucks.” Wooyoung kicks a pebble onto his welcome mat. “But all things said and done, I would much rather be here than there.”

There’s a short pause. “It’s good to see you, again,” San says softly, and Wooyoung looks up into his eyes. He swears those eyes glance down to his lips for a third of a second, but he refuses to let himself hope like that.

“Yeah, well,” he blushes. “I’m just glad my shithead ex is supporting a nice family-owned business like yours.”

San laughs hard at that, even though Wooyoung didn’t think he was being that funny. “I mean, yeah, he’s kind of paying our rent this month."

“At least he’s good for something.”

San laughs at that, too.

Another full week passes by a lot like this. They fill each other in on their days, even establishing a couple little inside jokes. Wooyoung gives San a bag of cat treats that he found when unpacking to take home to Byeol. San asks for updates on Wooyoung’s dating life (there are none), but Wooyoung can’t bring himself to return the question yet, fearing the answer.

At the end of the week, Wooyoung is having a fine day, until Yeosang texts him.

Can I show you something maybe upsetting? It’s about h*m.

Wooyoung chuckles at the censoring, and replies:

I mean, if you have to

I don’t have to, I just think you should see it.

yeah ok

[image.png]

what the fuck??? ?

It’s a screenshot. Of his ex’s fucking new Hinge profile.

He knows it’s new because there’s pictures on here that Wooyoung’s never seen before. He finds himself enraged once again. Not that is ex is moving on, because fuck him honestly, but because what the fuck is he doing sending him flowers every god damn day if he is trying to date other people too? As if Wooyoung will take him back while he actively tries to find his replacement? Do his matches even know? No, of course they wouldn’t. What an absolute fuckface.

He rants to Yeosang as such, thumbs tapping across his keyboard at lightning speed.

thank you for sending me this, I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision to make. you’re a good friend and ily

Ofc, ily2

Also look at this guy I matched with 😍

Although he’s still fuming, Wooyoung swipes through the set of screenshots that Yeosang sent him because he’s a good and supportive friend, thank you very much. The man in the pictures has a sturdy build, with nice hair and a cute face, and there’s a picture of him pretending to play the flute backwards so he seems funny too. And there’s a video of him absolutely nailing a carnival game, popping a balloon easily in just one shot of the plastic gun, something that makes even Wooyoung’s eyebrows raise in approval.

he’s cute, I like him. when are you going to suck his dick?

bye.

Wooyoung’s giggles are interrupted by a familiar knock at his door. Mixed emotions spill out of him all at once, like candy from a broken pinata: he’s elated to see San again because San is sohotandniceandcuteandugh but also infuriated because what do you mean there’s another flower delivery for him? Is this dumbass moving on or not?!

“Delivery for Jung Wooyoung!” San announces before Wooyoung has even finished opening the door. His pleasant smile falters when he sees Wooyoung’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Wooyoung shakes his head, trying for a polite, tight-lipped smile that probably ends up more like a grimace. He takes the flowers from San’s hands and sets them on his entry table. “It’s just… he’s really still sending me these? When is this loser going to give up? He’s not even bothering with the cards anymore…”

“Oh.” San suddenly turns red as a tomato. “About that…”

Wooyoung feels panic emerge alongside his grumpiness. What does San know that he hasn’t told him?

“Actually, these ones are from me.” San puffs out his cheeks shyly. “Extras. From the shop, you know.”

Wooyoung’s eyes bug out of his head. What does that mean? Why was San here then if he’s not making flower deliveries? Has this whole thing been a lie? Or worse, a set up? He’s not sure if he could handle that.

“Have they been from you this whole time?” Wooyoung asks, voice uncharacteristically soft.

“No, no!” San waves his hands in front of him, trying to emphasize his sincerity. “Just the past week or so. He finally stopped ordering from us, but it felt… weird not to see you every day. So I’ve been putting together the extras we have at the end of the day and coming over after we close. And bringing them here, for you.”

Wooyoung considers this. He hadn’t even questioned why San had started coming by at a different time, or why there had been a break at all.

“But anyway, I’m sorry,” San looks at the ground like he wants it to swallow him whole. “It was really selfish of me. I wanted to see you more, but I shouldn’t have assumed that you’d want to see me too. Especially after you didn’t text me… So, I’m sorry again for monopolizing your time and interrupting your days by continuing to come by.”

Wooyoung freezes. Apologizing? Texting? What is he talking about?

“Texted you? How?” He guesses he could’ve looked up the shop’s phone number? Actually, he’s proud of himself for not doing that. He doesn’t need to be that thirsty.

“Yeah, I… left you my phone number.” San looks up at him sheepishly.

“When?!” Wooyoung shrieks in disbelief.

“In one of the flowers?”

Wooyoung remembers the card sticking out of the top of the arrangement he came home to that one night, with just a phone number on it and nothing else. “…That was yours?”

“Yeah…?” he’s starting to smile now, just a little.

“I threw it away!”

“What? Why?” San’s little smile disappears.

“You didn’t leave a name on it!” Wooyoung’s hands are flailing wildly now. He could’ve been texting San this whole week? “I thought it was that asshole trying to get me to reach out to him again.”

“O-oh… Did I not? Dammit.” San starts rubbing the back of his neck. Wooyoung notices the freckles there, not for the first time. “Well, I can always give it to you again? And maybe we can text, or call, or hang out sometime. I would like that a lot. But only if you want that, obviously. But I mean it’s also—”

“Shut up.”

“Okay?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Okay!”

Wooyoung leans through the door to grab San’s face with both hands and crashes their lips together. His lips are softer than he expected, both in texture and behavior. Wooyoung devours them, letting the thrill of the moment guide him. He can hardly believe this is real. He kind of wants San to pinch him. Maybe later.

They eventually separate, but their faces remain close, not willing to be too far from each other. San’s hands are on his waist and Wooyoung keeps a possessive grasp on the nape of San’s neck.

“So that means you’re done for the day?” he asks. San nods against his forehead. Wooyoung pulls away then, smiling from ear to ear. “Then get in here, you idiot.”

San smiles back at him. “I was really hoping that you’d ask me again.”

Wooyoung kisses him again and backs up so he’s leading them both through the doorway. He hears San kick the door closed behind them as they tumble together on the couch. Their teeth clash together but neither of them care. Hands grip at each other’s shirts, trying to rip the fabric from their bodies without separating from each other.

Shirts are removed and San’s hot skin is put in direct contact with his own—it feels heavenly. Sparks fire up in his gut immediately, a stunning display of shimmering colors and twinkling sounds. He whines from deep in the back of his throat, pulling San down by the nape of the neck to press their bodies even closer together.

He feels the lines of San’s abs as they press against his own torso, sees his rippling biceps and bulging back muscles. He practically starts drooling—San’s body is insane, of course it is.

San starts to leave warm, wet kisses down his jaw and the column of his neck. Wooyoung tosses his head back against the couch cushions, giving him more room to work. Each press of his lips is like a brand, stamping him with his hot touch. Each soft bite like a tattoo. The spark he was missing before, the one he was worried he would never feel again, is here. It’s definitely here.

“Oh, fuck yes,” Wooyoung moans. “Give me your hand.” He grabs San’s wrist gently to move it where he wants, but then Wooyoung freezes.

Shit. He was bossy again.

He knows he shouldn’t be like that, knows men don’t like it. But he can’t help it—he’s always been like this, no matter how hard he tries not to be. Guilt and shame spring up within him like water from a drinking fountain.

But to his surprise, San allows his hand to be moved. His wrist lays limp in Wooyoung’s grasp, awaiting further instructions. Eyes wide and eager.

Huh?  Wooyoung’s mouth parts a bit in his confusion. He thought people didn’t like when he was bossy in bed. His ex always said—

Wait.

Wooyoung pulls the hand in his wrist right to his crotch, to the rapidly growing bulge in his sweatpants. San instinctively squeezes and Wooyoung gasps. The tantalizing friction from his massaging fingers is just enough to make his mouth water for more.

Feeling emboldened, he tells San to sit on his knees. And… he listens. He leans back to support himself with his strong thighs, still hovering over Wooyoung. He doesn’t get mad. He doesn’t make any snide comments or scoff or worse, go silent. He just does what Wooyoung asks. It feels so good.

Now that San’s weight isn’t in his arms and hands, Wooyoung grabs his other hand and places it against his own throat. San raises his eyebrows at him, curious, but squeezes gently anyway. It’s light and easy, a test run. Wooyoung inhales sharply, and San tightens his grip. Not too much, but enough. Wooyoung’s eyes roll back in his head.

Oh yeah, he could get used to this.

San chuckles darkly at that and continues palming Wooyoung through his sweats, while keeping a light pressure on his neck with his other hand. Wooyoung feels his skin buzzing so hard he’s surprised it isn’t audible. He’s so hard he thinks his boner might actually tear through his sweats.

He moans again when he feels San starting to softly grind against his raised thigh. Wooyoung indulges himself a bit in the delicious sounds of San’s breathing starting to pick up. He’s living at having a crush on the man for so long and finally getting to hear what he sounds like as he’s coming apart.

“Sit up,” Wooyoung says suddenly. “Back against the couch.” San seems caught off guard, confused and a bit hurt, but obeys nonetheless. His shoulders relax, however, once he sees Wooyoung sink to the ground in front of him between his legs.

First Wooyoung just noses at San’s full erection over his jeans, breathing in the smell of dryer sheets and rose petals and something purely San. He eventually unhooks the button on San’s jeans with his teeth (oh yeah, he’s still got it) and pulls them and his underwear to his ankles before spreading his legs apart. The sight, along with the quiet gasp San lets out as he’s exposed to the cool air of the room, has him starting to leak into his underwear.

Feeling greedy, drunk with power, and a little mean, Wooyoung starts with his inner thighs—kissing and licking and biting and leaving marks—just to hear what new sounds San might make with each different sensation. He catalogues them all, sees which ones fit together in a way that he likes, strings them together like flowers into a bouquet.

He finishes his work on one thigh and moves to the other. He gives it the same treatment, testing his luck this time—kissing a little longer, biting a little harder. San’s hand finds its way to the crown of Wooyoung’s head, fingers carding through his hair. Wooyoung puts his hand atop his, telling San he can pull. He does, just a bit, when Wooyoung pulls his hand away. After that, he lets Wooyoung do his thing, never complaining for even a second.

He finally kisses his way up to San’s balls, caressing them with his lips, sucking one into his mouth, then the other. He lathes his tongue around them, enjoying the rough feel of the trimmed hair. From there he continues kitten licks and slow kisses along San’s cock that’s resting on his stomach, hard and red and leaking. Then Wooyoung sucks the tip into his mouth, like he’s been daydreaming about for weeks.

It tastes even sweeter than he imagined.

Wooyoung sinks a bit lower, hollowing his cheeks. San grunts a bit from above him and his free hand flies to Wooyoung’s head to meet the other one. Wooyoung moans as they start to pull on his hair for real, and takes more and more of San into his mouth, bobbing his head in a rhythm.

He eventually gets far enough that the tip of San’s cock hits the back of his throat. Wooyoung gags, out of practice, but refuses to let that deter him.

“Wanna be inside you… been—” San speaks up, looking down at Wooyoung with heavy lidded eyes. Wooyoung’s guts spark again at the visual, kindling to a fire. “Been thinking about it for weeks.”

“Oh have you now, sweet thing?” Wooyoung smirks up at him. “Get on top of me again.”

Wooyoung reaches around San for the tiny bottle of lube he keeps hidden between the cushions before removing his sweatpants and boxers and laying naked on the couch.

“You keep that in your couch?” San giggles, stepping out of his jeans and crawling on top of him.

“Duh,” Wooyoung shoves the lube into his pretty hands. “It’s my apartment, and I can masturbate anywhere in it any time I want. It’s awesome.”

San starts to pour the lube onto his fingers. “I suppose I can’t argue with that.”

He pulls San down to kiss him sloppily as fingers tease his rim. The first breach of his index finger has Wooyoung keening. His fingers are careful, exploratory. His eyes watch Wooyoung intently but fondly, like he’s a piece of fine art.

Wooyoung babbles horny nonsense as San adds a second finger. He finds his prostate in record time. “Mmph, more. Yes, just like that. Oh, that’s nice. You’re so good with your hands.”

San preens at the praise, giving a proud smile that shows his dimples.

By the time San is thrusting three fingers in and out of him, Wooyoung finds himself already close. “Stopstopstop—"

San pulls his fingers out immediately. “What’s wrong?”

Wooyoung thinks he might cry. A little at deciding to stop his own orgasm, a lot at the fact San listened to him when he needed something. The bar really is in hell, he thinks to himself.

“Nothing, sorry, I was gonna come.”

“Oh,” San starts to turn beet red, despite of what they’re doing.

“Yeah. Sit up again.”

San listens, of course he does. His hands immediately grab onto Wooyoung’s body wherever he can touch, and he looks up at Wooyoung like he’s the sunset when he climbs on top of him, straddling his lap. Wooyoung takes a hold of San’s now dripping cock, lining it up with his hole.

“I better not see you sliding down this couch at all,” Wooyoung says sternly. “Use these abs you have, keep sitting nice and straight for me.” San nods furiously.

And with that, Wooyoung sits on his cock, sinking down inch by glorious inch. He’s thick too, filling him up in the most satisfying way. San moans the entire way down, eyes scrunching shut. “Oh fuck oh fuck, so fucking tight. Feels amazing. You’re amazing. Fuck.”

Wooyoung is suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, thinking San’s reaction is sweet. He leans down to kiss San tenderly, before beginning to bounce up and down on his cock. San continues moaning and whimpering into his mouth. His hands keep tracing the length of Wooyoung’s body, palms raking over the flesh. It’s as if he’s mapping out every inch of skin, memorizing it for later.

Too soon, Wooyoung’s thighs start to get tired, and he slows down to ease the burning in his muscles. He whines in frustration and throws his head back. He really doesn’t want to stop, but he also can’t seem to keep going, either.

San senses his dilemma. “Let’s go to your bedroom?”

Wooyoung hasn’t even finished nodding before he’s suddenly picked up by the thighs and lifted off the couch. Squealing in both fear and delight, he wraps his legs around San’s hips and his arms around San’s neck, cackling into his collarbone. San presses loud kisses into his ear as he quickly finds the bedroom in the small apartment. He feels himself being flipped over, so easily manhandled by San and yeah, that’s hot, before San pushes into him again from behind and starts pounding into him.

“Ah! Oh, fuck yes,” Wooyoung’s eyes roll back and he sees stars. “Grab my hips, like this, pull me back onto your cock, make me take it.”

As usual, San does just as he says. Wooyoung cries out, a scream ripping out from deep in his throat. San gives him matching noises of ecstasy, deeper in tone but just as loud. Skin slaps against skin as Wooyoung feels himself getting close again.

A brief vision flashes into his head. His ex behind him in the same position. He knows it’s not true, knows that’s impossible, but panic rises up in him anyway. No no no. He finally has a nice thing, he can’t ruin it like this, with his stupid memories. He can’t let him take this from him too. His eyes start to sting with tears.

“Wait, sto—”

San pulls out instantly. He leans over the length of Wooyoung’s back to meet his gaze, eyes full of concern. He sees the tears threatening to leak and starts kissing them away. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Wooyoung says. It’s true. Seeing San’s face has his anxiety melting away, but the sincerity of the care San is showing him has the tears spilling anyway. “Just wanna see you,” he sniffles.

“You sure you’re okay?” San gently flips him onto his back as Wooyoung nods wetly.

“I am. Jus’ got anxious. Wanted a different position.” Wooyoung wipes a tear from his face with the heel of his hand. San brushes his hair back and gives him a long, tender kiss to the forehead and then to the lips, before trailing wet kisses down his face and jaw and neck. The heartfelt attention raises his spirits almost instantly, warmth spreading through his insides the way a sip of hot chocolate does on a snowy day.

“We can stop, if you need to.” No condescension, no guilt-tripping, no judgment.

“You’re very sweet. I promise I’m fine, I just needed a second.” He starts squirming, his aching cock protesting the lack of attention. “Now get your dick back inside me before I start crying again,” he says with authority, wrapping his legs around San to encourage him.

“Yes. Yes, okay.” San pushes Wooyoung’s legs up to meet his shoulders before sliding back in slowly. His thrusts are gentle at first, but quickly pick up as the heat of the moment comes back.

“You can go harder. Please, harder,” Wooyoung gasps, nails digging into San’s huge shoulders. He needs to feel it, needs to be grounded back into the present. San complies, breathing heavily and grunting into his neck as he starts railing into him even more intensely than before. He pulls on San’s hair to lift his head enough so they can look into each other’s eyes, and all of Wooyoung’s earlier anxiety evaporates, leaving only burning arousal in its place. He pulls him down by the back of his head so their lips meet in a searing kiss, and they whine into each other’s mouths.

Wooyoung tunes out everything but San’s labored breathing and the rhythmic slapping of skin meeting skin. He’s fairly certain he’s moaning loudly himself, but he doesn’t stop it. His days of making himself smaller and quieter for others are over.

In the midst of nailing Wooyoung’s prostate with his thick cock, San reaches his hand up to Wooyoung’s throat again, squeezing harder than he did before. Wooyoung gasps and whines and clenches around San. He stares deeply into San’s eyes, and feels more butterflies than he ever remembers feeling before in his life.

“Please tell me you’re close,” San pants, resting their foreheads together, sticky with sweat. Wooyoung nods frantically, his eyes squeeze shut.

“Good.” San removes his hand from Wooyoung’s neck and reaches between their bodies to wrap it around Wooyoung’s straining cock, and strokes it in time with his brutal thrusting. Wooyoung’s resulting moan is strangled, caught in the back of his throat. His hands scramble for purchase along San’s expansive back. He’s walking the plank on a sinking ship—desperate for some kind of solid land.

His orgasm hurls him overboard. His vision whites out, his thoughts a boundless sea of San. Yes. San. Right there. Yes.

He lets the ocean take him. Scoop him up. Drown him. Hold him impossibly close.

He washes ashore just in time to see San fall apart—face scrunched up in ecstasy, cock buried inside Wooyoung as deep as it can go, spilling inside him.

San gingerly pulls out, hissing through his teeth, and lays on top of Wooyoung with his full body weight. “S’okay?” he mumbles into Wooyoung’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Wooyoung rubs hands up and down the length of San’s muscular back. There’s cum coating both of their torsos now and oozing out of him onto the sheets, but he doesn’t care in the slightest. “It’s nice.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, maybe an hour, before San rolls off of Wooyoung and cuddles him from the side. “They’re letting me take a month away from the shop,” he says quietly.

“Really?!” Wooyoung props himself up on an elbow. “That’s amazing! What’re you gonna do?”

San moves to his back, hands coming to rest on his chest. “I’m not sure. Look at jobs, research college applications, maybe audit a class. Maybe nothing.”

“This is great,” Wooyoung beams. “I’m proud of you.”

San grins back and reaches his arms out, an invitation that Wooyoung accepts, laying on San’s chest as he hugs him in close.

Wooyoung marvels at the very real chance that something might happen between them, and how surreal that idea is—how unthinkable it was not very long ago. He wants to devote himself to nurturing the growing spark between them. Wants to surrender himself to it.

“I do want that, you know.” San raises a questioning eyebrow at him. “I do want to text you. And hang out. Seeing you every day has been the best part of my month.”

San beams from ear to ear. “I’m glad. And honestly? Same.”

They’re quiet for several more moments. “Hey, I was wondering if you’d want to go to the animal shelter with me? To look at cats?”

“I would love that.” San kisses the crown of his head. “Can… do you think we can go for round two first?”

“Fuck yeah,” Wooyoung attacks his lips again.

And he's suddenly hit with a realization. Everything he went through, as painful as it was, has led him right here. To this exact time, and this exact place. It might seem strange, but he wouldn’t dare change any of it. As San kisses down his chest, it feels like he’s found love again. And for now, that’s enough.

***

Much later, Wooyoung is getting a tattoo of a rose on his forearm, the needle whirring away as it inks his skin. He gets a text from San and he checks it with his free hand—it’s a picture of Byeol, who’s finally letting their new kitten cuddle up to her.

He smiles at his phone.