Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: This story is not a reflection of Ateez, any of the members and is purely fictional. No offense, representation or claims are made of any of the members, Ateez, or their management company.

BxB and fan ships. If you don't care for shipping members, this isn't the story for you. Some mature themes also present - so if that's not for you, please don't continue to read.

Edits/proofing I may have missed always welcomed when sent with good intention. Dyslexia is a fun challenge when writing. Thanks!

Here are the main characters. All our favorites.

San, 19

@ Ink&Shade - San is the quiet observer in any room. Shy and introverted, he's more comfortable with a pencil and sketchpad than with people. His art is his escape, a private world where he can express everything he's too afraid to say aloud. San hides his talent behind an anonymous online art account, too self-conscious to reveal his identity. In real life, San avoids the spotlight, and especially avoids Wooyoung, who unknowingly becomes his biggest fan online. San's deep chocolate eyes and slightly disheveled dark hair often go unnoticed, which is how he prefers it—slipping into the background is a skill he's perfected.

Wooyoung, 19

@ YoungArt - Wooyoung is everything San isn't. He's outgoing, popular, and devastatingly handsome. With striking green rimmed brown eyes and a charming smile, he's the guy everyone wants to be friends with, and his confidence makes it all seem effortless. Wooyoung's always surrounded by a group of friends, his magnetic personality drawing people in wherever he goes. While he excels in sports and has a natural charisma, Wooyoung has a softer side that he doesn't often show. Unbeknownst to him, he's also @ Ink&Shade art account's biggest fan, obsessing over the intricate drawings that speak to his deeper, quieter thoughts.

Yeosang, 19 

@yeosnark - Wooyoung's best friend Yeosang, is the complete opposite of Wooyoung's outgoing nature. Quiet and quick-witted, Yeosang's snark can light up a conversation in the most unexpected ways. He's a keen observer, catching subtle body language, and putting puzzle pieces together before the others even realize there is a puzzle. He's intuitive and empathetic.

Seonghwa, 20

@SeongStyle

Tall and thin with defined features, Seonghwa exudes gender-fluidity, moving between masculine and feminine presentations with a sweet, easygoing nature. His humor is dry, sometimes sarcastic, but always with a touch of warmth. While Seonghwa seems to have life under control, he's been secretly harboring feelings for Hongjoong recently but hasn't figured out how to bridge the gap from friends to potentially something more.

Hongjoong, 21

@ No1LikeJoong

Shorter than most of his friends, but his personality more than makes up for it. Outgoing and personable, Hongjoong knows how to navigate social situations with ease, though he's more deliberate and thoughtful in his communication, and less likely to blurt things out than others in the group. His big brown eyes and easy smile have drawn attention from people, but it's Seonghwa who's noticed most. Hongjoong enjoys being part of the crew but tends to fly under the radar when it comes to his own romantic prospects, not realizing the attention he garners from Seonghwa.

Mingi, 19 

@MingiFix- Tall and broad-shouldered, Mingi looks like a typical jock, but first impressions are deceiving. He's the sensitive, kind-hearted one of the group, with a soft spot for quiet moments and deep conversations. His easy-going demeanor hides a long-standing secret: he's been crushing on Yunho since they were kids. Despite his confident exterior, Mingi has never found the courage to tell Yunho how he feels, though the feelings have only grown stronger over the years. Mingi's kindness and empathy make him a grounding force in the group, even if he sometimes fumbles over his emotions.

Yunho, 20 

@SnackAttackYun

He is the tallest in the group, but his sweet, somewhat oblivious nature makes him seem younger than his years. A natural peace-maker, Yunho is the one everyone turns to when tensions rise, as his calm demeanor has a way of diffusing any situation. His bright smile and easy laugh endear him to his friends, though he's completely unaware of Mingi's long-standing crush on him. Yunho is always looking for the next snack or a good laugh, his carefree nature masking his deeper insecurities. He's the heart of the group, pulling them all together with his quiet support.

Jongho, 18

@JonghoSpeaks

San's younger cousin, but you'd never guess it by the way he takes charge in their relationship. He tends to hang out with friends from outside of his university but has recently taken notice of a quiet boy in his English class. Opinionated and smart, Jongho isn't afraid to say exactly what's on his mind, which can sometimes rub people the wrong way. His strong personality often comes off as blunt or even insensitive, but deep down, Jongho cares about San and constantly pushes him to break out of his shell. Whether it's encouraging San to take more risks with his art or to finally start socializing more, Jongho's intentions are always good—though his delivery could use some work. Despite their differences, Jongho is one of the few people San truly trusts, even when they clash.

~~~

Thanks for reading. Voting always appreciated!

I'm planning to update regularly, at least once a week.

Chapter Text

San POV:

San sat in the back of the lecture hall, sketching absentmindedly in his notebook. He was barely listening to the professor's droning voice, his pencil moving instinctively across the page, creating soft lines that soon formed into the shape of a lone figure standing against a sky full of stars. San had always been this way-quiet, unassuming, slipping in and out of rooms without so much as a glance from anyone. And that was how he liked it. No attention, no pressure. Just the safety of his sketchbook and the anonymity of the art account on instagram he'd been deliberately building for several months.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, a message from @ YoungArt. San's heart skipped a beat. That was the username of one of his most loyal followers-the one who always left thoughtful comments, who understood his work in a way no one had. YoungArt saw him in a way he'd never experienced before. It made him feel both vulnerable and appreciated. He quickly swiped open his phone and read the comment.

@ YoungArt "Seriously, this is incredible? Absolutely insane. The detail in this piece... how do you even manage that?" #goals

San smiled faintly, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He didn't know why, but chatting with YoungArt always felt different from the usual comments. There was something genuine about the way he praised San's art-not just the technical skill, but the emotion behind it. It felt real. Even if he didn't know who YoungArt was in real life, San looked forward to these exchanges more than anything.

San replied, @ Ink&Shade: "Thanks, @ YoungArt. I've been experimenting with contrast. I wanted to capture that feeling of hope you mentioned. Glad it translated for you."

San hit send, then glanced up toward the front of the class. Wooyoung was sitting there, just a few rows ahead, casually leaning back in his chair, completely at ease. San tried to ignore him-tried not to notice the way Wooyoung always seemed so effortlessly confident, surrounded by friends, chatting and goofing off together. It was hardly fair San thought, trying to stop staring at his handsome classmate. From what he could tell, Wooyoung seemed to have the ideal life.

Most days, San and Wooyoung barely spoke. They were in some of the same classes, shared many of the same spaces, but San made sure to stay invisible. Wooyoung was just too much-too popular, too outgoing, too attractive, too everything that San wasn't. It wasn't that San disliked him, in fact, if he was really honest, there was something that compelled him about Wooyoung. However, the idea of being noticed by him felt intimidating, if not a bit terrifying. So he stayed in the background, like always, observing. Some might even say pining.

Another buzz from his phone broke his thoughts. This time is was a message request from @YoungArt. San quickly hit accept.

@ YoungArt "Well, whatever you're doing, it's working. I wish I was that creative. Do you ever show your work publicly?"

San's heart raced a little at the question. He hadn't shown anyone his sketches in real life, and he definitely wasn't planning to. His art account was a safe space-anonymous, no names attached, no pressure. Just him and his work. But something about YoungArt's words made him hesitate.

@ Ink&Shade: "Not really. I'm not great with putting myself out there."

He hit send, hoping that would be the end of it. But another message came almost immediately.

@ YoungArt "You should. Seriously. Your art deserves to be seen. But I get it-putting yourself out there can be vulnerable and scary."

San exhaled slowly. YoungArt always seemed to know the right thing to say. He glanced up again, trying to focus on the lecture, but his eyes kept drifting back to Wooyoung, who was now talking to the person beside him, laughing loudly at some joke San couldn't hear. San quickly looked away, feeling that familiar mix of curiosity and dread that always came with watching people like Wooyoung from a distance.

His phone buzzed once more -

@ YoungArt "But if you ever decide to, let me know. I'd love to see more of your work. You are really talented."

The rest of the lecture passed in a blur, and when it finally ended, San was quick to gather his things, slipping out the side door before anyone could stop him, especially Wooyoung. As he walked across campus, he felt a strange warmth in his chest, a sense of connection he hadn't felt in a long time. YoungArt might just be a stranger online, but for some reason, their words felt more real than anything San had heard in the physical world. Too bad they were likely to never meet.

It was beyond his wildest comprehension that in fact he and @ YoungArt already had more than mutual interest in art in common.

Wooyoung POV:

Wooyoung, who had just shoved his phone into his pocket before heading off to meet his friends, and head to a cafe near the university they all liked. Yunho was always raving about the pastries there.

Wooyoung sat down at a large table with Yeosang, Seonghwa and Hongjoong, saving room for the others. While they waiting for everyone to arrive, Wooyoung mentioned the art account he was following, and the incredible talent of the artist. He'd brought this particular account up before, but as more a passing curiosity.

Yeosang leaned back, arms crossed, eyeing Wooyoung. "You're obsessed," he remarked, his voice dripping with mirth. "You don't even know who this artist is, and yet you're fangirling harder than you did over that Lotus we saw parked in front of the cafe last week."

"Shut up," Wooyoung grinned, not denying it. "Their art is good. I'd probably sound stupid if I met them, just trying to speak to them. Wait, do you think they might live near here?"

"Careful what you wish for," Seonghwa chimed in quietly, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he sipped his drink. "You might embarrass yourself even more than usual."

Wooyoung laughed, but there was a hint of chagrin in his eyes, and his cheeks were noticeably a little pinker than they had just been. He glanced around, suddenly noticing San across the cafe at a small corner table. He was now hurriedly packing his things. Wooyoung couldn't explain why the quiet guy in the corner seemed so familiar. Didn't they have some classes together?

"Ya, is it just me, or does that guy look like..." Wooyoung began, squinting in San's direction, but Mingi interrupted him with a loud clap on the back.

"Bro, you're seeing things," Mingi said with a wide grin. "It's food time. Let's go grab some grub before Yunho starts hunting down the café pastries."

Yunho, already fully engaged by the pastry display, didn't hear a word. "Do you think they'll let me get two of those croissants?" he asked, eyes wide and innocent.

"Just get one before you eat the whole display," Hongjoong teased, shaking his head. "How are you still hungry after your huge lunch?" Yunho just smirked.

Wooyoung forgot about the mysterious stranger who'd quickly exited the cafe while he was distracted.

San POV:

Just before San could make his escape, his phone buzzed again with another message.

@ YoungArt: Seriously though, we should collab sometime. You're insanely talented."

San's fingers trembled as he shut off his phone. A collaboration? With YoungArt? The fan he could barely hold a conversation with, let alone reveal his identity to. Plus how would collaborating even work when he didn't know anything about the account other than the few pictures of sunsets, artistically photographed geese, and some landscapes. Still the thought send a shiver down San's spine. Anticipation, trepidation, maybe excitement. His heart started beating harder as he mulled over the possibilities of what YoungArt might look like, and how they could collaborate.

Just then, the door to the café swung open, and in walked Jungho, San's younger cousin, brimming with his usual bravado. "San!" he called out, spotting him instantly. "I've been texting you all morning. Let's go. You're not gonna spend your whole day hiding in here, right?"

San flinched, hoping Wooyoung hadn't heard, but it was too late. Wooyoung's eyes were now fixed on him, a curious expression crossing his face. He rose quickly walking past Wooyoungs table, studiously ignoring Wooyoungs glance, while the others were currently negotiating where to eat.

"Wait... San?" Wooyoung muttered under his breath, brow furrowing. He wasn't sure why, but something about that name felt... familiar.

Yeosang looked up snorting, "Told you, you're obsessed."

Chapter Text

San POV:

San leaned back in his chair, exhausted from hours of drawing. The late afternoon sun streamed through his small apartment window, casting long shadows across the room. His phone buzzed on the desk, lighting up with a notification. It was a message from his anonymous art account's biggest fan: @YoungArt.

He had gotten used to seeing the notifications from this account—@YoungArt had been messaging him for weeks now, always praising his work and sharing thoughtful comments about the pieces San posted. San had always assumed it was just some random person, maybe another artist who appreciated his style. He thought a bit about the person behind the account, but only in passing.

Curiosity piqued, San picked up his phone and opened Instagram. He tapped on the message.

Instagram DM:

@YoungArt: "Your last piece is unreal. The emotion in the eyes... How do you get it so right every time?"

San smiled a little, his heart warming at the praise. As nervous as it made him, he liked talking to this fan. They always seemed to get his work on a deeper level, even when San didn't feel like he fully understood it himself. It gave him a sense of pride, and validation. But today, something about the handle caught his eye—@YoungArt. He had never paid attention to it before. It was such a generic name, but it felt vaguely familiar, some part of his mind was trying to connect synapsis.

His fingers hovered over the profile icon, hesitating for a second. Then, without thinking, he tapped it.

The profile opened, and the first thing San saw was a photo of Wooyoung, smiling that devastating smile, surrounded by friends. The same Wooyoung who sat a few rows in front of him in class. The same Wooyoung whose presence filled every room he walked into. The same Wooyoung that San had been both been admiring and avoiding for months.

San's breath caught in his throat.

"No way, not possible...right?" he whispered to himself. His mind racing, reviewing every interaction he's had with YoungArt with a new perspective.

He was frozen, staring at the screen, his heart pounding.

Jung fricking Wooyoung.

Wooyoung was the fan who had been messaging him all this time, gushing over his art, sharing intimate thoughts about his drawings. He hadn't been talking to some random person online—he had been talking to not only someone he knew but just the most intimidating, gorgeous, popular Wooyoung. Sharing his art, his heart, his inner-most inspiration that he used when drawing.

His mind raced. Wooyoung didn't know who he was, did he? Wooyoung had no idea that the artist he was messaging was the same shy, quiet guy who disappeared into the background of their shared world. He couldn't, there was no way he'd pieced it together. San didn't post anything personal, no location, name - only his art. That felt plenty personal.

San felt like his head was spinning. He couldn't believe it. And he couldn't help but feel a pang of panic, the dread of what would happen if Wooyoung ever found out. How would he react? Would he feel betrayed by San, after sharing his deepest thoughts and feeling about San's art? Would be still want to communicate with San? A shiver ran down his back. No, he couldn't think about that now. It would be devastating to lose this connection. San realized how attached he'd become to this connection to Wooyoung's innermost thoughts. He wouldn't say anything yet. But he promised himself he'd find an opening to share more about himself and see if he could create an opportunity to...

Ping!

@YoungArt: "Are you there? Hope I didn't scare you off with too many questions."

San quickly typed a reply, his hands shaking, heart still beating hard.

@Ink&Shade: "No, you didn't. Sorry, I was just distracted."

He sent the message and stared at his phone, feeling like his world had shifted. How was he supposed to keep talking to Wooyoung now, knowing who he was? Worse yet, how was he supposed to face him in real life?

Wooyoung POV:

Wooyoung leaned back against the wall of the café, scrolling through his Instagram feed, casually liking photos and tapping through stories. As usual, his eyes landed on his favorite art account, @Ink&Shade. He still didn't know who the artist was, but the raw emotion in every sketch and painting captivated him. Every time he saw a new piece, he felt like he was seeing straight into someone's soul—a feeling that unsettled him in ways he couldn't explain. And he was riveted.

He paused at their latest post, a close-up of a pair of eyes, shadowed and intense. He typed out a quick comment, trying to put his admiration into words, but it never felt like enough. Why was he so drawn to this artist?

He shrugged it off. Maybe it was just the art itself. Or maybe it was the mystery—the not knowing. But lately, something about this account was tugging at him, like there was a familiarity he couldn't place.

"Who are you, really?" Wooyoung mumbled under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he studied the sketch again. He swiped through a few more posts, as if searching for some hidden clue. Little details in the drawings, the style, even the way the captions were written—there was something oddly familiar about it all.

Shaking off the thought, Wooyoung pocketed his phone. Whoever the artist was, they were special. He just wished he could meet them in real life. There was something about them he needed to know—something that felt strangely close, yet just out of reach.

Seonghwa POV:

Seonghwa leaned against the back of the couch, his gaze fixed on Hongjoong, who was animatedly recounting some story to the group. His hands moved wildly, and everyone around him was laughing, hanging on to every word. Seonghwa smiled softly, taking in the scene like he always did—observing from the edge, quiet but content just to be near him.

Hongjoong's energy was magnetic. Everything about him pulled people in effortlessly, including Seonghwa, though he kept his feelings tucked away, hidden behind careful smiles and lingering glances. He never dared to say what he was really thinking. What was the point? Hongjoong was his friend, nothing more. Someone like him—so lively, so full of charm—could never feel the same way about someone as quiet as Seonghwa.

Hongjoong glanced in Seonghwa's direction mid-sentence and caught his eye. Seonghwa froze, heart thudding in his chest as Hongjoong smiled at him, the kind of smile that always seemed too warm, too perfect to be meant for him. "Something on your mind, Seonghwa?" Hongjoong asked, his tone playful, completely unaware of the turmoil brewing beneath Seonghwa's calm exterior.

Seonghwa blinked, searching for a casual response, something to cover the sudden rush of nerves. "Just listening," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. God, that was lame.

Hongjoong chuckled and turned back to his story, and just like that, the moment passed. Seonghwa let out a quiet breath, silently grateful that Hongjoong hadn't pressed further. He had no idea how to deal with his own feelings, let alone put them into words. Besides, why would Hongjoong care?

He glanced down at his hands, nervously fiddling with the hem of his shirt. You're just his friend. Nothing more.

The thought echoed in his mind, settling into the familiar weight that had been there for months. Seonghwa struggled to convince himself he could never hope for more—it was easier that way, right? Definitely safer. It was better to stay silent and keep his distance, than risk ruining the fragile friendship he valued so much.

But as Hongjoong's laugh rang out across the room, Seonghwa's heart betrayed him. He couldn't stop the feelings from slipping in, no matter how hard he tried to hide them.

Chapter Text

San sat in his usual spot at the coffee shop near campus, tucked away in the farthest corner by the window, sketchbook open in front of him. The café buzzed with life—students chatting, music playing softly in the background—but San barely registered any of it. His mind was focused on the lines he was carefully drawing, letting his hand move naturally over the paper. Art was his escape, the one thing that made him feel in control.

His phone vibrated, pulling him out of his trance. It was a notification from Instagram.

A message from @ YoungArt. "Your latest piece is incredible. The way you captured the light... it feels like it's glowing."

It still felt unreal, the connection between his anonymous art account and Wooyoung, the most confident, charismatic guy he knew in real life. @YoungArt was just a handle on a screen, a fan who had started leaving thoughtful comments on his posts months ago. But now, knowing who was behind the account, it made every interaction feel heavy with meaning.

Wooyoung had no idea who he was talking to—didn't realize that the shy, quiet guy in the back of their shared class, always scribbling in his sketchbook, was the same artist he admired online. Sam had always been good at blending into the background, and for once, it served him well.

Every time a message came from @YoungArt, it sent a wave of panic and excitement crashing over him. What if Wooyoung found out? What if he *wanted* him to find out?

But then again, San didn't know if he could handle that—Wooyoung, with all his confidence and charm, steeped into the cocoon of anonymity San had built so carefully. It was terrifying. And thrilling.

San continued to stare at the screen, his heart pounding. The drawing he had posted was one of his more abstract works—soft, glowing light falling through a window, spilling across a figure half hidden in shadows. He had sketched it in a rush, inspired by a sudden memory of a lazy afternoon, sunlight catching in the curves of the room. The light was always what captivated him the most—its warmth, its softness, the way it could make even the simplest scene feel alive. He had been experimenting with how to capture that in his drawings, blending different shades and lines, creating layers to make the light seem as though it was gently pulsing through the frame.

San's fingers hovered over the screen, trembling slightly as he typed out a response.

@Ink&Shade: "Thank you. I'm still experimenting with light, but I'm glad it resonated."

He hit send and instantly felt his stomach knot up. He wondered if he had said too much. Every reply was a delicate balancing act, a step too far risking the chance that Wooyoung might start piecing together who he really was. But he couldn't help but feel a strange rush at the thought.

@YoungArt: "Resonated is an understatement. I can't stop thinking about your work. How do you find inspiration?"

San blinked, caught off guard. His inspiration? His mind raced. He was often inspired, but to put into words the way he felt when he was observing things around him and felt the compulsion to draw them. To try to open up and share his process, such as it was, made his chest tighten with anxiety.

@Ink&Shade: "I just see things that compel me to draw them. It hard to explain. Sorry, I feel like that isn't a good answer."

San glanced across the café, his eyes finding Wooyoung as usual. He was sitting with his friends, all of them laughing about something. Wooyoung wasn't looking at his phone, and he wasn't looking at San either. He had no idea the artist he admired was the guy sitting just a few tables away.

San's heart skipped a beat, the familiar thrill mixed with a sense of dread. How could Wooyoung not know? Every comment Wooyoung left seemed to dig a little deeper into who Sam really was. It was like he understood the emotions behind the art on a level that no one else did.

As if on cue, another message popped up.

@YoungArt: "No, I get it. Inspiration is a hard thing to quantify. The art speaks for itself, I just want to get to know more about you."

San stared at the words, his pulse quickening. Wooyoung wanted to know him?. He *got it*, understood his art, his creative thinking. The idea of being seen for something deeper, for the way you see the world rather than the face you present, resonated with San in ways he couldn't explain.

But still... Wooyoung didn't know it was him. And what if he did? Would he really want to get to know San?

What would Wooyoung think if he knew the quiet guy in class was the same artist he couldn't stop talking about online? San's mind spiraled at the possibilities. Would it change the way he saw him? The way he felt about him? Did he dare hope that he might feel more if he knew?

San shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away. It was too risky to think like that. Too dangerous.

He glanced back at Wooyoung, who was still engrossed in the conversation with his friends, completely unaware of the parallel world he and Sam were building online.

The secret felt heavier by the minute.

Wooyoung POV

Later that afternoon, Wooyoung walked through the hallway on campus, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of the artist behind the anonymous account. There was something so familiar about the way they talked, something that pulled at his curiosity. He couldn't put his finger on it, but the more he messaged them, the more he started noticing things in real life that reminded him of the online conversations.

As he turned the corner, he nearly bumped into Seonghwa and Yeosang, who were leaning against the wall, locked in their usual banter.

"Finally decided to show up," Seonghwa said, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm always on time," Wooyoung shot back with a grin.

"Right," Yeosang chimed in, his voice laced with sarcasm. "If we lived in a parallel universe where you weren't surrounded by fans."

Wooyoung rolled his eyes but smiled. His phone buzzed again—another message from @Ink&Shade. He ignored it for now, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the artist.

Yeosang caught the distracted look on his face and nudged Seonghwa. "Looks like someone's got something on their mind," Yeosang said, grinning mischievously. "What's up, Woo? Finally met someone who can keep up with you?"

Wooyoung shrugged, playing it off. "Nah, just thinking about some art I saw online."

Yeosang smirked. "Art, huh? Sure, that's what we're calling it now."

"Shut up," Wooyoung said, laughing.

---

San POV

Later that night, San lay in bed, staring at his phone. The conversation with Wooyoung had continued through the afternoon, small messages exchanged here and there, talking about techniques, inspirations, and their shared love for art. It was surreal—he never imagined someone like Wooyoung would be so interested in his work. And yet, here he was.

Another message came through.

Instagram DM:

@YoungArt: "I've been thinking... your style feels familiar, like I've seen it somewhere before. Weird, right?"

San froze. He quickly typed a reply.

@Ink&Shade: "I doubt it. I keep my art pretty private."

@YoungArt: "Maybe. But I'm telling you, it feels like I know you."

San's pulse quickened. This was getting too close, too real. He had to be more careful. He couldn't let Wooyoung find out the truth.

@Ink&Shade: "Maybe it's just a coincidence. Art can be like that sometimes."

There was a long pause before Wooyoung replied.

@YoungArt: "Yeah, maybe."

San exhaled, his chest tight. He couldn't shake the feeling that Wooyoung was starting to put the pieces together, and the thought terrified him. He couldn't imagine what would happen if Wooyoung ever figured out that the person behind the account was the same guy who could barely make eye contact in class.

Jongho POV

Jongho glanced over at Yeosang from his seat in English class. Yeosang was furiously typing on his laptop, his fingers dancing across the keys as he worked on their essay about their favorite authors. Jongho noticed how Yeosang's dark eyes would occasionally flicker with amusement as he glanced at Jongho.

"Hey, Yeosang, what's your take on the main theme in *The Catcher in the Rye*?" Jongho asked, trying to start a conversation.

Yeosang looked up, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, you mean Holden's constant struggle between innocence and experience? It's such a classic conflict. I think it's what makes the novel so compelling."

Jongho nodded, genuinely intrigued. "Yeah, I agree. I've always thought Salinger really nailed the complexity of that struggle. What's your favorite part of the book?"

Yeosang leaned back in his chair, giving Jongho a thoughtful look. "I'd have to say the scene with Phoebe on the carousel. It's like Holden's moment of clarity amidst all his confusion."

Jongho smiled, feeling a bit more at ease. "That's a great choice. I think it's the most hopeful part of the book. By the way, maybe we should exchange Instagram handles so we can share notes and ideas more easily. What do you think?"

Yeosang's eyes lit up, and he nodded enthusiastically. "Sure, sounds good! I'm @YeoSnark. And you?"

"@JonghoSpeaks," Jongho replied, his fingers tapping out the handle on his phone.

As they exchanged their information, Jongho noticed how Yeosang's eyes lingered on his a moment longer than usual. "So, what other authors do you enjoy?" Jongho asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing.

Yeosang's gaze met his with a hint of curiosity. "I'm really into Murakami right now. His magical realism is fascinating. How about you?"

"I'm more into classic literature, but I'm always up for trying something new," Jongho admitted, leaning slightly closer. "I'd love to hear more about your take on Murakami sometime."

Yeosang chuckled, a warm sound that made Jongho's heart skip a beat. "Maybe we can discuss it over coffee sometime. I promise I won't be too snarky."

Jongho laughed, the playful tone in Yeosang's voice making him feel more at ease. "I'd like that. And I'm sure your snarky comments will just make it more interesting."

As they continued talking, Jongho noticed how Yeosang's laughter seemed to resonate with an inviting warmth, and how their occasional brushes of hands as they reached for their notebooks felt electric. The conversation shifted from their essay to more personal topics, and Jongho couldn't ignore the growing attraction between them.

Yeosang POV

That evening Yeosang checked his instagram and saw a message from Jongho that was sent shortly after he left class.

JonghoSpeaks: Hey @YeoSnark! I really enjoyed our discussion about Salinger and Murakami today. It's nice to meet someone who shares the same passion for literature. 😄

YeoSnark: Hey @JonghoSpeaks, sorry I wasn't checking my account! Glad you enjoyed it. I have to say, you have a pretty good taste in books yourself. 📚😉

JonghoSpeaks: Thanks! 😊 I think you might be the only person who's ever made *The Catcher in the Rye* sound interesting. What other books have you managed to make sound intriguing?

YeoSnark: Haha, well, I'd say *Kafka on the Shore* has a pretty unique spin on things. I'd be happy to give you a rundown sometime. Maybe over coffee? ☕️

JonghoSpeaks: That sounds like a great idea. I've been wanting to explore more of Murakami's work. And I promise I won't judge if you get overly snarky. 😉

YeoSnark: Oh, don't worry. My snark is part of my charm. But who knows, maybe you'll end up liking it. 😏

JonghoSpeaks: I'm counting on it. 😄 By the way, I've been meaning to ask—what's your favorite spot for coffee around here? I'm always looking for new places.

YeoSnark: There's this little café called "The Book Nook" that I love. They have great coffee and an even better atmosphere. Perfect for literary discussions. ☕️📖

JonghoSpeaks: "The Book Nook" sounds perfect. How about we meet there this weekend? We can dive into some Murakami and maybe some coffee, too.

YeoSnark: I'd like that. 😌 Let's say Saturday afternoon?

JonghoSpeaks: Saturday it is! Looking forward to it. And just so you know, I'm already anticipating some of your famous snark. 😉

YeoSnark: Haha, I'll do my best to deliver. See you then, @JonghoSpeaks. I'll be the one with the snarky comments and the coffee. 😏

JonghoSpeaks: Can't wait. See you Saturday! 😊

Yeosang lay in bed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he replayed the conversation in his mind. He felt a flutter of excitement at the thought of meeting Jongho for coffee and diving into their shared passion for literature. Despite his attempts to calm his racing heart, he couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation for their upcoming Saturday rendezvous.

Wooyoung POV

The following day Wooyoung sat in his usual spot in the coffee shop, watching the door out of the corner of his eye. San walked in, head down as usual, and took his spot by the window. Wooyoung studied him for a moment. There was something about San—something quiet, but... familiar. He'd never noticed it before, but lately, little things about San reminded him of the artist behind the account.

He shook his head, pushing the thought away. It couldn't be. San was quiet, attractive, but withdrawn. There was no way he could be the artist who seemed to speak so freely through their art. But the idea stuck with him, continually gnawing at the back of his mind.

Chapter Text

San sat in the back corner of the library, sketchbook open on the table, and headphones securely in place, homework discarded.. Soft music played in his ears, helping him tune out the world, as he worked on his latest piece—a dreamy landscape with light streaming through the trees, casting long shadows on the ground. Each line he drew brought him further into the quiet, safe space he had built for himself, far away from prying eyes and expectations.

But even here, in his sanctuary, he couldn't shake the thought of Wooyoung. They had messaged late into the night again, their conversation veering from art to life's little quirks. San had felt a flutter in his chest when Wooyoung asked how he got his ideas.

"I don't know." San had written, after thinking for a long time. "Sometimes it just feels like an image appears in my head, or a memory starts to shape itself into a picture. I don't always understand it, but it feels... right."

Wooyoung's response had been quick.

"That's beautiful. You put a piece of yourself into your art, don't you?"

San hadn't known how to respond to that. Wooyoung was right, of course, but having him so close to figuring out the depth of it—that the art wasn't just something he did but something he was—scared him. And yet, at the same time, a thrill ran through him, knowing that Wooyoung admired him, even if he didn't know it was him.

Across the library, San's eyes drifted over the quiet scene. A few tables away, Mingi was sitting awkwardly, pretending to read a textbook but stealing glances at Yunho, who was sitting with a group of friends a few seats down. San smiled faintly. Mingi's crush on Yunho was obvious to anyone who bothered to look, though Yunho, always oblivious, had no idea.

Yunho leaned back in his chair, stretching out, his long legs knocking over a stack of books on the edge of the table. He scrambled to pick them up, his usual sheepish grin appearing as he apologized to the librarian. Mingi chuckled quietly from his corner, amused by the little disaster. San didn't know how Mingi managed to stay so positive all the time—his awkward attempts to get Yunho's attention had been going on for weeks, but the guy hadn't lost hope.

*I could never be like that*, San thought, shaking his head. The idea of actively pursuing someone, especially someone as outgoing and bright as Wooyoung, felt impossible. Mingi might be awkward, but at least he was brave.

Just then, his phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him back into the moment.

@YoungArt: What are you working on today? I keep thinking about that last piece you posted—what was your inspiration for that one?

San's heart raced as he read the message. He glanced down at his sketchbook, the new piece half-finished on the page. Did he really want to explain? How that last piece—two figures sitting side by side in a glowing, quiet night—was a reflection of his own longing for connection? The loneliness he carried with him like a shadow? Maybe subconsciously it was even him and Wooyoung...Whoa, where did that come from?

He hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard, trying to craft a response that wouldn't reveal his newfound revelation.

@Ink&Shade: I don't know, it just came out while I was drawing. I'm not sure I have words to explain what was in my head exactly.

A half-truth. Wooyoung couldn't understand the full depth of what he meant—not yet, at least. But still, San felt a flicker of warmth knowing that Wooyoung cared enough to ask.

From the corner of his eye, San noticed Mingi standing up, smoothing down his shirt awkwardly, and heading toward Yunho's table. Oh no, San thought, watching the scene unfold.

Mingi tapped Yunho's shoulder gently. Yunho turned, blinking in surprise.

"Hey, Mingi!" he greeted cheerfully, completely unaware of the nervous energy radiating off Mingi.

"Uh, hey," Mingi replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was just, uh, wondering if you—if you wanted to grab a snack or something after school? Maybe?"

San watched in quiet amusement as Yunho's eyes lit up.

"A snack? Man, I'm always up for food! What are we getting?"

Mingi visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping. "I was thinking we could try the new café down the street?"

"Awesome! I'm in." Yunho grinned, completely missing the subtext of Mingi's invitation.

San shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. Mingi had managed to ask Yunho out—sort of—but Yunho still had no idea what was going on. It was a miracle their awkward dynamic worked at all.

San's phone buzzed again, pulling his attention back to his own conversation while refusing to see any parallel between his situation and Mingi's. He wasn't in love with Wooyoung, he just found him attractive, and they had a connection through art. That was all... probably.

He opened the message.

@YoungArt: You know, I feel like you put a lot of yourself into your work. I keep wondering what you're like in real life. It feels like I know you, but also... like I don't. Does that make sense?

San's breath caught in his throat. Wooyoung was getting closer, inching toward the truth. It felt like it was only a matter of time before he figured it out. His hands trembled as he typed his reply.

@Ink&Shade: I guess you could say that. Art is... personal for me.

Another partial-truth. But Wooyoung wasn't letting it go.

@YoungArt: You seem like someone I'd want to know in real life. I mean, if we ever met, I bet we'd be good friends.

San's pulse quickened. Friends. If Wooyoung knew who he was, would he still feel the same way? Would he be disappointed to find that the quiet, invisible guy in class was the one behind the art? Or maybe... just maybe, he'd see more.

For a fleeting moment San dared to hope for more, but then quickly pulled himself back to reality.

San swallowed hard, staring back down to his notebook, torn between fear and hope.

--

Hongjoong POV

Hongjoong sat at the edge of the crowded cafeteria, idly picking at the fries on his tray while laughing at one of Mingi's terrible puns. His eyes flitted over the table, bouncing between his friends as they talked, but his attention kept drifting to the slender figure sitting a little further away from the main group. Seonghwa.

He sat quietly, as usual, a serene presence among the chaos of their group, flipping through a book that Hongjoong couldn't quite make out. His long, elegant fingers absentmindedly toyed with the corner of the page. Every now and then, Seonghwa would glance up from the book, his dark eyes scanning the room, taking everything in without saying much.

"He's really... striking, isn't he?" The thought came unbidden in Hongjoong's mind, and he blinked in surprise at himself.

Sure, he'd always thought Seonghwa was attractive—in an abstract way. Seonghwa's soft features, graceful movements, and quiet demeanor had always set him apart. But Hongjoong had never really stopped to look at him like this. The way the light caught on his cheekbones. How his lips pressed together in a focused line as he read. Even the small furrow in his brow, as if he were lost in a world far away from everyone else. He really was stunning.

Hongjoong's heart fluttered a little in his chest.

It wasn't usually like Hongjoong to get shy, but something about Seonghwa was different. Maybe it was the mystery—Seonghwa didn't talk much, didn't give away his thoughts easily. Or maybe it was that soft, almost ethereal energy Seonghwa carried around him, like he belonged somewhere far more magical than the noisy cafeteria.

Hongjoong shook his head, trying to focus back on Mingi's joke, but the longer he tried to ignore the feeling, the more it pressed at the edges of his mind. His gaze drifted back to Seonghwa again, his thoughts swimming.

What is this?

He swallowed. Could it be... that he was starting to feel something? It felt ridiculous—he'd known Seonghwa for so long, been around him all the time—but now, sitting across from him, Hongjoong found himself drawn to the quiet allure of the other boy.

Suddenly, Seonghwa glanced up from his book, catching Hongjoong's eye. For a split second, Hongjoong panicked, like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. His first instinct was to look away, pretend he hadn't been staring, but something made him hold the gaze just a little longer.

Seonghwa offered a small, shy smile, and Hongjoong felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the sunlight streaming in from the windows. It was such a simple gesture, but it had Hongjoong's heart pounding.

He smiled back, trying to keep things casual, though his mind was racing. "Should I say something? Make a move?" He didn't want to be too obvious, but he also didn't want to keep this weird new feeling bottled up. If Seonghwa noticed him, really noticed him, then maybe... maybe there was something there.

Testing the waters couldn't hurt, right?

Hongjoong got up, crossing the room casually until he was standing next to Seonghwa's table. "Hey," he said, leaning a little closer, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "Whatcha reading?"

Seonghwa blinked up at him, clearly surprised by the sudden attention. He held up the book, a quiet smile on his lips. "It's a fantasy novel—about a boy who finds out he's part of a forgotten royal lineage." His voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if he wasn't used to being asked about his interests.

"Royalty, huh?" Hongjoong grinned, pulling out a chair and sitting down without waiting for an invitation. "Fits you, doesn't it?"

Seonghwa's eyes widened slightly, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. "I-I don't know about that," he stammered, glancing down at the book to hide his embarrassment, but peeking back up at Hongjoong under his lashes.

Well that's interesting, thought Hongjoong. It gave him an idea. "Come on, Seonghwa, you carry yourself like you belong in a palace. And I mean that as a compliment."

Seonghwa's blush deepened, and Hongjoong felt a thrill run through him. "Maybe I'm not imagining this", he thought. Seonghwa was shy, sure, but Hongjoong could see something more in the way his hands fidgeted with the edges of the book, in how his eyes flicked nervously between Hongjoong and the table. The slight pink hue dusting over his cheeks and ears.

Before he could overthink it, Hongjoong decided to push just a little more. He leaned in, just close enough that Seonghwa would have to look at him, and in a lower voice, added, "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd say you're hiding something."

Seonghwa's breath caught, and for a moment, the air between them seemed to shift. His eyes darted up to meet Hongjoong's, wide and a little uncertain, but there was something else there too—a flicker of curiosity, maybe even hope.

"I'm not hiding anything," Seonghwa said quietly, though the deepening of the blush on his face told a different story.

Hongjoong's lips curled into a soft smile. "I guess I'll just have to find out for myself then."

He didn't say anything more, didn't need to. He let the words hang in the air between them, giving Seonghwa a chance to process.

Hongjoong stood up, his heart still pounding in his chest, and casually made his way back to the table with the rest of their friends, his mind buzzing.

As he sat down, he glanced over at Seonghwa again. Seonghwa was still looking down at his book, but now there was a small, thoughtful smile on his lips.

Hongjoong couldn't help but grin to himself. He had tested the waters, just a little, and maybe—just maybe—Seonghwa would meet him halfway.

Chapter Text

Wooyoung couldn't shake the strange feeling he'd been having lately.

Something about San was tugging at his mind, a tiny thread that he couldn't quite grasp but refused to let go of.

Every time he saw San in class, hunched over his notebook or quietly doodling in the margins of his notes, something clicked. The way San's fingers moved so fluidly with the pen, sketching intricate designs in seconds—it reminded him of the artist he'd been talking to online.

His online conversations with @ Ink&Shade had become a daily occurrence. They talked about everything from art, to life's bigger questions, and Wooyoung couldn't help but feel connected to the mysterious person behind the account. But lately, his suspicions were growing. Could Choi San really be the one he'd been pouring his thoughts out to?

San, on the other hand, was struggling to keep his distance. He hadn't expected Wooyoung's persistent kindness, nor the way he felt his heart race when their conversations drifted into deeper territory. Every time they passed each other in the halls, San's anxiety spiked. What if Wooyoung knew? What if he figured it out and hated him for it? Or maybe worse, just stopped talking to him entirely.

Wooyoung decided it was time to test the waters. He leaned over San's desk after class, glancing at the small sketch of a bird San had been drawing absentmindedly. "That's really good," Wooyoung said casually, trying to act like his heart wasn't pounding. "I've seen sketches like this before."

San's head snapped up, his eyes wide and alarmed. "Uh, thanks," he muttered, quickly closing his notebook, his fingers fidgeting slightly.

Wooyoung wanted to push further but decided against it. Not yet. "See you around," he said with a friendly smile, walking away, but the look on San's face stuck with him.

---

Mingi POV

Mingi took a deep breath, steeling himself before making his way over to where Yunho sat under their usual tree. The sun filtered through the branches, casting dappled light on Yunho's face as he read, his tall frame relaxed against the trunk. He looked so at peace, lost in his book, that Mingi almost turned back—but no, he was committed now.

"Hey," Mingi called out casually as he plopped down beside him, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness. "You busy?"

Yunho looked up, his trademark soft smile immediately lighting up his features. "Hey, Mingi. Nah, just reading." He held up the book he'd been focused on. "Almost done with it, actually."

Mingi scratched the back of his neck, glancing at the ground for a second. "What's it about?" He asked, more to stall than out of genuine curiosity, but still trying to keep the conversation easy.

"It's a fantasy novel," Yunho explained, his enthusiasm creeping into his voice. "The hero is trying to save his world from these dark creatures that are taking over the land, but he doesn't realize he's the chosen one until halfway through."

Mingi smiled. He loved how Yunho always got so excited talking about the things that were important to him. "Sounds intense."

"Yeah, it is," Yunho laughed. "What about you? What's up?"

Mingi shifted, playing with a blade of grass nervously between his fingers. "I was thinking..." he started, his voice a little too casual. "Maybe we should hang out more. Like... just us. Do something fun."

Yunho closed his book, his eyes bright as he turned his full attention to Mingi. "That sounds fun! We haven't done that in a while, huh?"

"Yeah, not for a bit," Mingi replied, feeling the heat rise to his face. "I was thinking maybe something... different this time. Like, I don't know, grab food, see a movie—just the two of us."

There was a slight pause, and Mingi felt his stomach twist in knots, wondering if Yunho understood the implications of what he was saying. His heart hammered in his chest, the words hanging between them.

Yunho blinked, his smile still in place but his eyes curious. "You mean like a date?" he asked, his voice careful but not dismissive.

Mingi's face flushed even deeper, but he forced himself to nod, his heart pounding in his ears. "Yeah... like a date."

Yunho's eyes softened, and his smile turned a little more tender, though there was still a hint of that familiar preciousness in the way he cocked his head that Mingi adored about him. "I think I'd like that," he said, his voice quiet but certain.

Mingi exhaled, relieved yet still jittery with excitement. "Yeah? You're cool with that?"

Yunho chuckled softly. "Of course. I mean, I've always enjoyed hanging out with you. I just didn't know..." He trailed off, biting his lip as if realizing something.

Mingi's grin was lopsided, nervous but filled with hope. "Yeah, well, now you do."

Yunho's smile grew wider, his eyes sparkling with warmth as he playfully nudged Mingi's shoulder. "Guess I do. So, when's our first 'date' then?"

Mingi's nerves eased, replaced by a bubbling sense of joy and excitement. "How about tomorrow? There's that new restaurant we've been talking about checking out."

"Sounds perfect," Yunho replied, his voice a little softer, a little warmer. There was an unspoken understanding between them now, and Mingi felt his heart swell as Yunho's gaze lingered just a moment longer than usual.

"Tomorrow, then," Mingi said, grinning widely, feeling a weight lift off his chest as he finally began to see the possibility of something more between them.

Yunho leaned back against the tree, his smile relaxed but glowing with something new. "Tomorrow."

---

Wooyoung POV

As Wooyoung walked away, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had just missed an opportunity. He glanced back to see San still sitting at his desk, the notebook closed tightly in front of him, an unreadable expression on his face. Wooyoung's brain was racing with a flurry of different thoughts. "What if I'm right? What if San is the artist behind @Ink&Shade?" The thought both excited and terrified him. What if his suspicions were true? What if he found out that the person he had been confiding in was someone he saw every day?

The thrill of possibility sent his heart racing, but a wave of trepidation washed over him. "What if I'm wrong? What if I ruin everything by asking?" Wooyoung had always been outgoing, but this felt different. San was different. There was something about the way he immersed himself in his art, how he wore his emotions like a delicate veil that both intrigued and intimidated Wooyoung. Plus, if Wooyoung was really honest with himself, San was incredibly handsome, which was already intimidating.

As he strolled down the hallway, his thoughts turned inward."I've never felt like this before." It was more than just admiration for San's talent; there was an undeniable pull, an attraction that went beyond the sketches and shared conversations. Wooyoung found himself drawn to San's quiet intensity, the way his eyes sparkled with passion when he talked about art. There was something captivating about the way San seemed to exist in his own world, yet when Wooyoung was near, he felt a spark of connection—a delicate thread weaving them together.

I can't just ignore it. Wooyoung thought to himself, realizing that he wanted to know San beyond the sketchbook. He wanted to explore the layers beneath that shy exterior, to uncover the heart behind the art. "But how do I even approach him? What if he doesn't feel the same way? What if he's just being friendly?"

Wooyoung's heart ached with uncertainty. He stopped by a window, looking out at the world beyond. He could see students laughing, carefree and confident. "Why can't I be that bold?" He took a deep breath, trying to quell the fluttering in his chest. "I have to try."

Returning his focus to San's sketch, he felt a surge of determination. The delicate lines captured a sense of freedom, and in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to encourage that spirit within San. He remembered their conversations, how they dove into topics that felt so raw and real. San was more than just a talented artist; he was someone with a depth that resonated with Wooyoung on a personal level.

Resolute, Wooyoung pulled out his phone and opened the messaging app, his heart pounding as he typed a new message to @Ink&Shade.

@Ink&Shade - Just saw a sketch I think you'd love! It's a bird with wings spread wide, kind of like the one you drew. Made me think of you. 🕊️

He hesitated for a moment, then pressed send, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. **What if this leads to something more?**

---

San POV

Meanwhile, San's thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind. His heart thudded in his chest as he replayed Wooyoung's words. He noticed my sketch. he thought to himself. The compliment felt like a warm blanket, but it also intensified his fear. He had never been good at navigating feelings, especially when they involved someone like Wooyoung—charming, attractive, outgoing, and unafraid to be himself.

After a few moments of hesitation, San opened his notebook again, looking at the bird sketch that Wooyoung had admired. The lines were shaky, but they captured the essence of freedom he longed for. He sighed, knowing he couldn't hide behind his drawings forever.

San's phone buzzed, snapping him back to reality. He hesitated before checking the notification—another message from @Ink&Shade. His heart fluttered as he opened it.

@YoungArt: Just saw a sketch I think you'd love! It's a bird with wings spread wide, kind of like the one you drew. Made me think of you. 🕊️

San's breath hitched. He thinks of me? His fingers danced over the screen as he quickly typed a reply.

@Ink&Shade: That sounds beautiful! I love how birds symbolize freedom. Maybe I'll try something like that next.

He paused, his mind racing. Should he say more? After a moment's deliberation, he added:

@Ink&Shade: I've been feeling inspired lately. Your messages help me see things differently.

Wooyoung's reply came almost instantly.

@YoungArt: I'm glad to hear that! Your art has such depth. You should share it more; the world needs to see what you create.

San felt his heart flutter at the encouragement. Maybe this connection was worth exploring, even if it terrified him. For the first time in a while, a flicker of hope ignited in his chest, battling against his fears.

---

Yunho's POV

Yunho sat on the edge of his bed, absently tossing a snack wrapper into the trash as he replayed the day's events in his mind. The excitement from the earlier conversation with Mingi lingered, but with it came a swirl of curiosity and nerves. They'd always been close—best friends, really—but now there was something more, something different between them. Could it really work?

Yunho wasn't usually one to overthink, but the shift in their relationship had him wondering when Mingi had started seeing him this way. And why hadn't Mingi said something sooner? His phone sat next to him, lighting up briefly with an old notification. Maybe it was time to clear the air. With a quick exhale, Yunho, heart fluttering, picked up his phone and sent Mingi a message. Better to talk this through now than let it linger in the back of his mind all night.

@SnackAttackYun: Soooo... a fancy dinner, huh? 😉 I gotta admit, I'm excited. But I'm also a little surprised Mingi—when did this all start for you? Why didn't you say anything sooner? 🤔

@MingiFix: Haha, yeah, a fancy dinner. I'm excited too, but... tbh, I wasn't sure how you felt, and I didn't want to mess things up, you know? 😅

@SnackAttackYun: I get it. It's tricky, especially when it's someone you're already close with. But you don't have to be nervous. 😊 I was surprised, in a good way. But curious—what held you back?

@MingiFix: Honestly? The friendship. I kept thinking, what if it goes wrong? What if the romantic part doesn't work out and we can't go back? 😟 I really care about you, and this feels like, really big.

@SnackAttackYun: That's fair. It is big. But I think we can figure it out. We've always been good at being honest with each other. So, let's take it slow. See how things go. No pressure. 💛

@MingiFix: Slow sounds good. I want this to work... but if it doesn't, I hope we'll still be okay and somehow figure out hoe to stay friends. 😊 Thanks for being chill about it.

@SnackAttackYun: We'll be fine, Mingi. We've got this! I'll bring the snacks, you bring the charm, deal? 😜

@MingiFix: Haha, deal! Thanks, Yunho. I feel a little less nervous now. Sleep well?

@SnackAttackYun: You too, Mingi. Sleep well, and don't overthink it, okay? We're just seeing where this goes. 😌

@MingiFix: Alright, good night, Yunho. See you soon. 😴✨

~~

How are we feeling?

Thanks for reading. You all are amazing.

Chapter Text

The conversation between Wooyoung and @Ink&Shade had been weighing heavily on his mind all day. He couldn't stop thinking about the way they had opened up to him, sharing details about their personal life, struggles, and dreams. It felt real, more real than any other connection he'd had in a long time. But something about it had also been gnawing at him—a strange sense of familiarity he couldn't quite place. There was something in the way the artist spoke about their art, the vulnerability and passion that felt oddly similar to someone he knew.

San.

Wooyoung absentmindedly doodled in the corner of his notebook as the teacher droned on about the importance of thematic analysis in literature. His thoughts drifted back to that one time he'd spotted San sketching at the edge of his notebook during lunch, the quick flick of his hand, the way his eyes focused intently on the page as though nothing else in the world mattered. Could it really be him?

He glanced across the room, eyes landing on San, who sat quietly near the back of the class, as always. His head was down, shoulders slightly hunched, completely absorbed in whatever he was scribbling in his notebook. Wooyoung's heart skipped a beat. Was it possible? Could the quiet, withdrawn San really be the artist he'd been talking to for weeks online? The thought seemed almost ridiculous, yet the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

As class ended, Wooyoung packed up his things but didn't immediately leave the room. He lingered near the door, watching as San moved slowly, deliberately putting his supplies away. His fingers itched to ask him, to confront him right there and then, but he didn't want to scare him off. If San was the artist, Wooyoung didn't want to ruin the careful balance they had built online. Instead, he decided to bide his time, letting the mystery unravel on its own.

As he walked out, his phone buzzed with a notification. He pulled it out to see a message from the anonymous artist.

@ Ink&Shade: "Working on a new piece today. It's more personal than usual, but it feels good to finally get it out there. How's your day going?"

Wooyoung smiled at the screen, his heart doing that annoying little flutter it always did when they messaged him.

Wooyoung: "That's awesome! I can't wait to see it. My day's been good—just finished class. You know, I've been thinking... do you ever feel like art gives you a way to say things you can't say out loud?"

A pause. Then a reply.

@Ink& Shade: "All the time. Sometimes it's the only way I know how to express myself."

Wooyoung's smile widened. He typed back quickly, his fingers moving faster than his thoughts.

Wooyoung: "I feel like that too. It's like... sometimes talking to people doesn't feel like enough, you know?"

Another pause, and then the response that almost made his heart stop.

@ Ink& Shade: "Yeah, I know. Like when you want to tell someone something important, but you're too scared to say it. So you let your art do the talking."

Wooyoung stared at the screen, the words sinking in slowly. Could it be? Was San really pouring his heart out to him through their conversations? The thought both thrilled and terrified him. But if San wasn't ready to reveal himself, Wooyoung wasn't going to force him. Not yet.

—

Yeosang POV

The night before their coffee date, Yeosang lay in bed, staring at the dim glow of his phone screen. His conversation with Jongho had replayed in his head all evening, and every time he thought about it, his stomach did a little flip. He was excited—more than he wanted to admit—but there was a nervousness that lingered, too. What if he made a fool of himself? What if the connection they had through text didn't translate in person?

He shook the thoughts away, glancing down at his phone. His fingers hovered over Jongho's Instagram handle, wondering if he should send one last message before the weekend arrived. Would that come across as too eager? He took a deep breath, deciding to let it go. Instead, he focused on getting his mind off things.

To distract himself, he picked up Kafka on the Shore from his nightstand, flipping through the pages as if the words might calm the flutter in his chest. His mind, however, was elsewhere. He couldn't stop picturing Jongho's easy smile, the playful teasing in his messages, and the way they'd talked about Salinger and Murakami as if they'd been doing it for years.

Yeosang wasn't used to this—feeling so seen by someone, especially someone who shared his love for literature. Usually, he was the quiet one in the background, observing rather than participating. But with Jongho, it felt different. It felt like he could open up without fearing judgment, even if their conversations so far had mostly been over Instagram.

Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow, I'll see if this connection is as real in person as it is through a screen.

His phone buzzed again, startling him from his thoughts. It was another message from Jongho.

JonghoSpeaks: "Hope I didn't keep you up too late with all the literary talk today. Looking forward to tomorrow. 😊"

Yeosang smiled, feeling that familiar warmth creep into his chest. He quickly typed a response, the hesitation from earlier vanishing.

YeoSnark: "No such thing as too much literary talk. But don't worry, I'll be well-rested and ready to dive into more Murakami tomorrow. See you then. 😌"

He set his phone down, a sense of contentment settling over him as he turned off the light. For the first time in a while, he wasn't nervous about tomorrow—he was excited. No matter how things went, he was looking forward to spending time with Jongho, getting to know him beyond their witty exchanges and shared love of books.

As he drifted off to sleep, Yeosang couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, this weekend would mark the beginning of something special.

---

San POV

Back in the art room, San sat at his desk, his sketchbook open in front of him, half-finished drawings scattered across the page. He was trying to focus on the piece he'd told Wooyoung about, but his mind kept wandering. Every time Wooyoung messaged him, it felt like his heart was about to burst. There was something about the way Wooyoung talked to him, so open and kind, that made San feel things he wasn't sure how to deal with.

But the fear was always there too. What if Wooyoung found out it was him? What if everything changed between them?

San's phone buzzed again with another message from Wooyoung.

Wooyoung: "I hope you're doing okay. If you ever need to talk, I'm here. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, but... I get the feeling there's something you're holding back."

San stared at the message, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to tell Wooyoung the truth. He wanted to share everything with him. But the words wouldn't come. Instead, he typed something safer.

San: "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

He pressed send, feeling a strange mixture of relief and regret. Maybe one day, he'd find the courage to tell Wooyoung the truth. But for now, he'd stay in the shadows, hoping that their connection, fragile as it was, wouldn't break when the truth finally came out.

---

Yeosang POV

The next morning, Yeosang woke earlier than usual, the excitement from the night before still lingering. He spent far more time than necessary picking out an outfit, opting for something casual but nice—something that said I didn't overthink this, but I also put in some effort. After all, it was just coffee... but it was also coffee with Jongho.

As the clock ticked closer to their meeting time, Yeosang grabbed his well-loved copy of Kafka on the Shore and headed out the door. His palms were sweaty, and he couldn't stop glancing at his phone to check the time, even though he was on schedule.

By the time he reached The Book Nook, he was a bundle of nerves. The café was quaint, tucked away on a quiet street, its warm ambiance spilling out onto the sidewalk through the large windows. Inside, shelves of books lined the walls, and the smell of fresh coffee lingered in the air. It was exactly the kind of place Yeosang could spend hours in, lost in thought or in conversation.

As he stepped inside, his eyes immediately searched the room, and there, at a corner table by the window, sat Jongho. He was reading a book, but when he saw Yeosang, his face lit up with a smile that made Yeosang's nerves briefly disappear.

Yeosang made his way over, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Hey," he said, sliding into the seat across from Jongho. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting long."

Jongho shook his head, closing his book with a grin. "Not at all. I got here early. I like the atmosphere here—it's cozy."

"Yeah, it's one of my favorite spots," Yeosang said, glancing around. "Good coffee, too."

A barista came over, and they quickly placed their orders—Americano for Yeosang and a latte for Jongho. As they waited, there was a moment of comfortable silence, the kind that happens when two people are still feeling each other out, trying to bridge the gap between online banter and real-life connection.

"So," Jongho said, leaning forward slightly, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Tell me more about Kafka on the Shore. I feel like I'm in for a real literary deep dive today."

Yeosang chuckled, grateful that Jongho was giving him something to focus on besides his nerves. "Well, it's definitely one of Murakami's weirder books. There's a lot of surrealism—talking cats, parallel universes, and stuff like that. But it's also about self-discovery. It's kind of like... finding your own place in the world, even when things don't make sense."

Jongho's gaze stayed locked on Yeosang, a look of genuine interest on his face. "That sounds intense. But also, right up my alley. I like books that make you think about life in a different way."

"Exactly," Yeosang agreed, feeling more at ease as they delved deeper into the conversation. "That's why I love it. It's confusing, but in a way that makes you question everything."

As they talked, the conversation flowed easily, their shared passion for books making the transition from online to in-person feel natural. Yeosang found himself relaxing, the initial jitters replaced with the thrill of intellectual connection. Jongho was not only kind but also insightful, offering his own thoughts on the themes and characters they discussed.

After a while, their coffee arrived, and they both took a break from the literary deep dive. Jongho sipped his latte, glancing out the window for a moment before turning back to Yeosang.

"I have to admit," Jongho said, his voice softer now, "I've been looking forward to this all week."

Yeosang felt his heart skip a beat. He hadn't expected Jongho to be so candid, but the honesty in his words made Yeosang's own nerves melt away.

"Me too," Yeosang replied, his voice steady. "It's been nice, you know? Getting to talk to someone who gets it."

Jongho's smile widened, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "Yeah. I get that."

And just like that, Yeosang felt the spark between them solidify into something real—something more than just a casual coffee date. This was a connection, one that he hadn't expected but was undeniably glad to have found. As they continued talking, laughing, and teasing each other, Yeosang let go of the last of his uncertainty.

Yeosang smiled to himself. There was a new feeling, a tingling of something in his heart and wanting to trust it and let go.

Chapter Text

Wooyoung POV

Wooyoung's mind had been swirling ever since his conversation with San. The pieces of the puzzle were aligning in ways he couldn't ignore. Each interaction, each passing moment in the halls, and every glance at San's quiet figure had intensified his suspicions. But with every step toward the truth, his nerves crept in, threatening to overwhelm him.

Could it really be San? Was he the mysterious artist he'd connected with so deeply online? Wooyoung had been talking to @Ink&Shade for months now. The anonymous artist had poured so much of their soul into the conversations, into every brushstroke and sketch they shared. The emotional connection Wooyoung felt was undeniable, but he hadn't realized how much he craved the person behind the art—until recently. He had always been drawn to the honesty in those conversations, the way @Ink&Shade expressed vulnerability without fear. The thought that it could be San made his heart race for reasons he wasn't fully prepared to confront.

Wooyoung stared at the messages he had exchanged with @Ink&Shade the night before, his phone still in his hand as he sat on the edge of his bed. Their latest chat had veered into more personal territory—life dreams, fears, regrets—and somehow, @Ink&Shade had always known the right things to say, had always understood him in a way that felt both comforting and exhilarating. The warmth Wooyoung felt in those exchanges wasn't just because of the art anymore. He was forming a connection with the person behind the account. San.

For a moment, Wooyoung's breath hitched. Was he attracted to San? His mind drifted back to their interactions in class. San, with his quiet demeanor, always keeping his head down, always focusing on his art. But every so often, when San thought no one was looking, Wooyoung would catch a glimpse of something more—a depth of emotion behind his eyes, a sensitivity that mirrored the beauty of his sketches. And Wooyoung realized that he wasn't just drawn to San's art; he was drawn to San himself.

The thought sent a tremor of both excitement and anxiety through him. Wooyoung had never really considered the possibility before, but now that he had, it was impossible to ignore. The way his stomach fluttered when San spoke softly, or the way his heartbeat quickened when they shared even the briefest glance—it wasn't just admiration. There was more to it.

But what if San wasn't @Ink&Shade?

Wooyoung frowned, his hand tightening around his phone. The possibility gnawed at him, making him feel a strange mix of hope and dread. He didn't want to be wrong, but at the same time, the stakes were higher now. If San wasn't the artist, where did that leave him? Could he still face the growing feelings he harbored for San? Or would this realization—this hope—leave him crushed, knowing he had read too much into things?

Wooyoung sighed and leaned back against the bed, staring at the ceiling. He had to know. He couldn't keep hovering in this uncertain space, unsure if he was falling for someone he didn't truly know. If San was @Ink&Shade, it would change everything. And if he wasn't... well, Wooyoung would have to deal with that when the time came. But either way, the truth had to come out.

---

The next day after class, Wooyoung lingered in his seat, waiting for the room to empty. San was always one of the last to leave, taking his time to pack his belongings, as though the act of leaving was more difficult for him than it was for anyone else. Wooyoung watched as San carefully slid his sketchbook into his bag, his fingers moving with the same fluid grace that Wooyoung had come to associate with @Ink&Shade's work.

Taking a deep breath, Wooyoung approached, trying to keep his nerves in check. "Hey, San."

San looked up, clearly startled. He blinked rapidly, his usual shy, guarded expression falling into place. "Oh, hey, Wooyoung," he said, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

Wooyoung's heart pounded in his chest, but he kept his voice steady. "I've been thinking a lot about something." He glanced down at San's bag, where the corner of the sketchbook was just visible. "Actually... I've been thinking about someone."

San swallowed, his eyes darting to his bag for a fraction of a second before flickering back to Wooyoung's face. "Yeah?" he asked, though the nervousness in his voice was palpable.

"Yeah." Wooyoung shifted, trying to gauge San's reaction. "You know that artist account I follow—@Ink&Shade?"

San stiffened ever so slightly, and Wooyoung caught the movement, even though San quickly tried to cover it up with a casual shrug. "I... I think you've mentioned them."

Wooyoung smiled, his heart thudding in his ears. "I think their art is incredible. It's... raw. Honest. It says a lot about who they are as a person."

San bit his lip, glancing away. "That's... that's nice."

Wooyoung leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "You know, I've been wondering about something, though. I think I might've figured out who they are."

San's fingers clenched around the strap of his bag, and Wooyoung could see the tension building in his shoulders. He was so close. He could feel it.

Before San could say anything, Wooyoung added, "I think it's you."

San froze. His breath hitched, and for a long, agonizing moment, he didn't move. The classroom felt too quiet, the air heavy with the weight of Wooyoung's words. Wooyoung's heart raced, a mix of anticipation and fear swirling in his chest.

San finally looked up, his eyes wide and vulnerable. "What... what makes you think that?" His voice was barely above a whisper, and Wooyoung could see the fear flickering behind his gaze.

Wooyoung smiled softly. "Because no one else could create art that makes me feel the way yours does. It's not just the art—it's the person behind it. And I think that person is you."

San's eyes filled with panic, but there was something else there too—hope.

---

Seonghwa POV

Seonghwa sat on the edge of his bed, the soft glow of his phone screen lighting up his dimly lit room. He had spent the last hour mindlessly scrolling through Instagram, but his thoughts kept drifting back to one person. With a quiet sigh, he tapped on Hongjoong's profile and began scrolling through his posts. The most recent one was a candid shot of Hongjoong leaning against a brick wall, dressed in an oversized jacket with ripped jeans, his smile effortless and his eyes full of mischief. The caption read: Can't stop, won't stop. 🔥

Seonghwa felt his chest tighten as he stared at the photo, his thumb hovering over the like button. Why does he have to look so effortlessly cool all the time? Without letting himself overthink it, he quickly tapped on the message icon and typed out a response, the words spilling out before he had the chance to second-guess himself.

@SeongStyle: 🌟 Just saw your latest post, @No1LikeJoong. I swear you make even the simplest looks seem so effortlessly cool! 😎🔥

@No1LikeJoong: Aww, thanks, @SeongStyle! 😄 I guess I've been taking style tips from you. Your feed is seriously a vibe! 👌💯

@SeongStyle: Haha, flattery will get you everywhere! 😜 How about we swap style tips over coffee sometime? ☕️

@No1LikeJoong: Deal! I'm always up for a coffee date with someone who's got their style game on point. 😉👗

@SeongStyle: Can't wait! And don't worry, I promise not to steal all your fashion secrets. 😏💖

@No1LikeJoong: Haha, I'm counting on it! 😆 See you soon, fashionista! 🌟👋

Seonghwa stared at his phone, heart fluttering as he read Hongjoong's latest reply. His fingers hovered over the screen, replaying their conversation in his head. Every emoji, every playful line—they had been flirting, right? Or maybe Hongjoong was just friendly like that. Seonghwa couldn't shake the doubt creeping into his mind.

He bit his lip, scrolling back up through their messages, lingering on Hongjoong's words: "I'm always up for a coffee date with someone who's got their style game on point."

A coffee date. That had to mean something more than just casual talk about fashion, right? Or was he reading too much into it?

Seonghwa sighed, daring to hope that Hongjoong felt the same sparks he did. He wanted to believe their banter was more than friendly—wanted to believe Hongjoong saw him, too. But there was still that nagging voice, whispering that maybe he was overthinking it.

"Maybe I'm just imagining things..." he muttered, typing out his response with careful consideration.

@SeongStyleHaha, flattery will get you everywhere! 😜 How about we swap style tips over coffee sometime? ☕️

He hit send and exhaled, feeling the anticipation knot in his stomach. The invitation was out there now—clearer than before. He just hoped he hadn't misread everything.

~~
Hi! Me again! Thank you all for the support, I can't believe how many of you have already read this! Xo

Chapter Text

The week following Wooyoung's confession was a strange blend of excitement and apprehension for both him and San. Wooyoung was riding a wave of exhilaration, buoyed by the idea of finally being open about his feelings.

He found himself daydreaming in class, glancing at San every few minutes, hoping to catch his eye. Yet, with every fleeting glance, doubt would creep in. Was San feeling the same way? Did he see Wooyoung as more than just a friend?

San, on the other hand, was caught in a whirlwind of emotions. Wooyoung's admission had stirred something deep within him—a mixture of hope and fear. He replayed their conversations over and over, searching for signs, trying to decipher whether Wooyoung's feelings were genuine or just a passing phase.

The thought of opening up terrified him; what if he misread the signals? What if Wooyoung only liked him for his art and not for who he truly was?

One afternoon, as they sat in a small café, the tension in the air was palpable. Wooyoung had just finished describing the concept for a new art piece he was working on—a vibrant, abstract representation of emotions—his hands gesturing animatedly as he spoke. San admired the way his eyes sparkled with passion.

"I think art is the purest way to express everything we can't say with words," Wooyoung said, leaning back in his chair. "Like, I can't always find the right words, but when I'm painting, it's like my feelings just... come out."

San nodded, trying to absorb Wooyoung's enthusiasm. "Yeah, it's like the canvas becomes a space where everything makes sense. Even if no one else gets it, you get to say something real."

"Exactly!" Wooyoung replied, grinning widely. "You get it. I love talking to someone who appreciates how much more there is beneath the surface of every brushstroke."

San felt his stomach flip at the way Wooyoung's gaze lingered on him, his grin softening as he spoke. "It's like you're speaking a language only you understand," San added, feeling the vulnerability in his own words. "But it's always a risk, right? Putting yourself out there like that."

Wooyoung's expression shifted, becoming more thoughtful. "It is. But that's what makes it worth it—the risk. Even if no one else sees it the way you do, even if they don't understand... you still put a part of yourself out there."

San swallowed, the weight of Wooyoung's words hitting closer to home than he'd expected. Maybe they weren't just talking about art anymore.

As their conversation flowed, San felt a warmth spreading in his chest. But beneath that warmth lay an undercurrent of fear.

"Wooyoung," he began hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper, "can I ask you something?"

"Sure, ask away!" Wooyoung's smile was encouraging, but it made San's heart race even faster.

"What do you... I mean, how do you feel about us? I mean, beyond just friends." The words tumbled out before he could stop them.

Wooyoung's expression shifted, his smile faltering for just a moment before brightening again.

"I've been thinking about that a lot lately," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. "Honestly, I really like you, San. I want to explore whatever this is between us."

San's heart skipped a beat, but the tension still loomed large. "But what if it doesn't work out? We just started this friendship. What if we ruin what we already have?"

Wooyoung leaned forward, his eyes earnest. "I get that fear, really. But sometimes, taking a risk is worth it. What if this turns into something amazing?"

San felt his pulse quicken, the hope battling with his anxiety. "I want that too, but I just... I don't know if I'm ready."

"Then let's take it slow. No pressure. We can just keep hanging out and see where it leads." Wooyoung's tone was soothing, and San couldn't help but feel a little more at ease.

"Okay," San agreed, a tentative smile breaking through his apprehension. "I can do that."

As they continued their discussion, the air between them shifted, becoming lighter. They laughed, shared stories, and slowly began to navigate the complexities of their feelings. But just as things started to feel more comfortable, the arrival of a group of classmates jolted San back to reality.

The loud chatter and laughter seemed to engulf him, and he instinctively withdrew, his anxiety bubbling up again. He felt exposed and vulnerable, the walls closing in around him. Wooyoung noticed immediately, his gaze shifting to San's face, concern etched on his features.

"Hey, don't let them get to you," Wooyoung said softly, placing a reassuring hand on San's arm. "We're just having a conversation. They're not here to judge you."

San took a deep breath, reminding himself of Wooyoung's words. "Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry, it's just... I'm not used to being around so many people."

"You don't have to apologize for that," Wooyoung replied, his voice steady. "I like you for who you are, San. Just remember that."

As the noise faded into the background, San focused on Wooyoung's gaze, feeling a connection deepen between them. He leaned into the feeling that this could be the start of something beautiful, something that could withstand the chaos around them.

Mingi's POV

Mingi stood outside the restaurant, nervously checking his reflection in the glass door for what felt like the hundredth time. The sleek, modern vibe of the place had caught their attention weeks ago when they'd both mentioned wanting to try it.

Now, here he was, waiting for Yunho, on what was technically their first date. His heart pounded in his chest, and the usual ease he felt around Yunho was nowhere to be found.

Why am I so nervous? Mingi thought, absently smoothing his jacket. They'd always been best friends, talking about everything from their favorite snacks to life's biggest questions. But now that they'd both agreed to try something more... it felt different—more intense, and a lot more nerve-wracking.

Before Mingi could psych himself out further, he saw Yunho approaching with his easygoing smile and casual confidence. A wave of warmth spread through him as Yunho waved, his tall frame cutting through the evening crowd. Mingi swallowed hard, feeling his face heat up.

"Hey!" Yunho greeted, his voice bright as he stepped closer. "I hope you haven't been waiting long."

"Nah, just a few minutes," Mingi lied, smiling awkwardly. He motioned to the restaurant. "Ready to try this place out?"

"Definitely. I've been looking forward to it," Yunho replied, glancing at the menu posted outside. He leaned in a little, his shoulder brushing against Mingi's. "And I've been looking forward to seeing you."

Mingi's stomach did a flip, and suddenly his tongue felt tied. "Uh, yeah... same here." he said as he felt his cheeks getting warm.

Ugh, stop acting so awkward. Mingi silently berated himself as they stepped inside and were seated at a cozy table near the window. The restaurant buzzed with low chatter and clinking glasses, and the soft lighting created an intimate atmosphere that only made Mingi more self-conscious. He fidgeted with his napkin as Yunho scanned the menu.

"What are you thinking of getting?" Yunho asked, glancing over at him with a warm smile. His easygoing nature had always been one of the things Mingi admired most about him, but now it was almost overwhelming. How was Yunho so calm when Mingi felt like a bundle of nerves?

"Oh, um..." Mingi blinked at the menu, barely registering the words. "Maybe the... pasta? I don't know, everything looks good."

Yunho chuckled, his laughter light and teasing. "You okay? You seem kinda nervous."

"I'm fine!" Mingi said quickly, his voice rising an octave. Yunho raised an eyebrow, his expression amused, and Mingi instantly felt his face heat up again. "Okay, maybe a little nervous or a lot nervous."

Yunho set down his menu, his eyes softening. "Mingi, you don't have to be nervous. It's just me."

"That's the problem," Mingi muttered under his breath, but Yunho heard him and laughed again. Mingi couldn't help but laugh, too, the tension easing just a bit.

"I'm glad we're doing this," Yunho said, his tone a little more serious now. "I know it's different, but... it feels nice, doesn't it?"

Mingi nodded, his heart doing that nervous flip again. "Yeah, it does. I just... I guess I'm not used to seeing you like this. You know, as more than just Yunho, my best friend."

Yunho reached across the table, his hand resting on Mingi's for a moment. "We can take it slow. No pressure, remember?"

Mingi looked down at Yunho's hand, warmth spreading through him. He squeezed Yunho's hand lightly, feeling some of his shyness melt away. "Yeah, okay. Slow is good."

For a few moments, they sat there, caught in the quiet but comforting connection. Then Yunho grinned, breaking the spell. "But I gotta say, it's kinda cute seeing you all flustered."

Mingi groaned, pulling his hand back as Yunho's teasing smile widened. "Don't even start."

Yunho laughed again, the sound so familiar and yet now laced with something new—something Mingi was very interested to explore further.

--

San POV

That evening, as San lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, he couldn't help but replay the conversation with Wooyoung in his mind. Every word, every laugh, every lingering glance seemed to dance on the edges of his thoughts.

There was something about the way Wooyoung spoke—so unguarded, so sure of himself when talking about his art. San had always admired that about him. But tonight, something was different. The connection they shared over their conversation felt deeper, more intimate.

He felt a flicker of something stir inside him—that same hope from earlier, but now growing. Wooyoung's words about art and vulnerability echoed in his mind, weaving their way through the fears and doubts that had held him back for so long.

San was so adverse to taking risks, but Wooyoung was worth it, even if it meant stepping out of his carefully constructed comfort zone.

San thought about the way Wooyoung's eyes had lingered on him, the subtle shifts in his expression when their conversation turned more personal. It was as if they were speaking a language only the two of them understood, and San felt seen. Not just for his talent or his quiet demeanor, but for who he truly was—uncertainties, fears, and all.

As he lay there, his heart beat a little faster, the weight of possibilities pressing in on him. What if he took a chance? What if he stopped hiding behind his insecurities and let Wooyoung in, fully? The thought was terrifying, but it also felt strangely liberating.

Maybe, just maybe, Wooyoung wasn't only drawn to his art. Maybe he was drawn to him—to San, the person behind the canvas. and has he began to drift off the flicker of hope grew a little brighter.

Chapter Text

San's POV:

San sat at his desk, staring at the sketch in front of him. His pencil hovered just above the paper, but his mind was a thousand miles away—stuck on Wooyoung, on their last conversation, on the way Wooyoung's eyes had lingered just a second too long before he spoke. There had been something different in that moment, a spark of something San couldn't quite name but could definitely feel.

He shook his head, trying to focus on the drawing. It was supposed to be a piece for his Instagram account, another anonymous post to share with the growing number of followers he had—but his thoughts kept drifting back to Wooyoung. He'd never been good at reading people, but it was hard to ignore the way Wooyoung looked at him, like he was seeing more than just the shy, quiet art student who always kept to himself.

San's heart skipped a beat at the memory of Wooyoung's easy smile, the way his hand had brushed San's arm ever so briefly as they parted ways that day. There had been a moment—just a moment—where San thought maybe, just maybe, Wooyoung felt it too.

But how could he be sure? What if he was imagining it all, letting his own feelings get the better of him? San had never been good at this kind of thing, never known how to put himself out there, especially when it came to someone like Wooyoung—so confident, so effortlessly charming.

San sighed and set the pencil down, rubbing his hands over his face. He wanted to make a move, to say something, anything, but the fear of rejection, of making things awkward, kept holding him back. He wasn't bold like Wooyoung. He didn't know how to start conversations or flirt, especially not with someone who could have anyone they wanted. Why would Wooyoung be interested in him?

But then he thought about their last conversation again—about the way Wooyoung had encouraged him to show his art, not just online but publicly, in galleries or local exhibitions. San had brushed it off, too self-conscious, but the way Wooyoung had looked at him when he said it, like he believed in San's talent more than San ever could... it stayed with him. That look meant something. Wooyoung believed in him.

San's phone buzzed, breaking through his thoughts. He picked it up, seeing a message from Wooyoung.

Wooyoung "Hey, thinking about grabbing coffee this weekend. Want to join?"

San's heart raced. Was this... a date? No, it couldn't be. Wooyoung was just being friendly. But still, there was that lingering hope, that maybe this wasn't just casual. Maybe Wooyoung was testing the waters too. San stared at the message for longer than necessary before finally typing a reply.

San "Yeah, that sounds great."

He hit send and leaned back in his chair, his mind still swirling with uncertainty. Maybe this was the opportunity he needed to figure out if what he was feeling was real—or if he was just setting himself up for disappointment.

---

Wooyoung's POV:

Wooyoung tossed his phone onto his bed, a slow smile spreading across his face after seeing San's response. The idea of spending more time with San outside of their usual brief interactions had been lingering in the back of his mind for weeks now, but he hadn't been sure how to ask without making things awkward.

San was different. Wooyoung couldn't stop thinking about him—the way his quiet intensity seemed to draw Wooyoung in, the way he was so effortlessly beautiful without even trying. San didn't seem to realize the effect he had on people, and that only made him more intriguing. Wooyoung had to admit, though, that his feelings for San were quickly becoming more than just casual attraction.

But there was something about San—his shyness, his hesitation—that made Wooyoung hold back. He didn't want to scare him off, didn't want to come on too strong and push San away before he had a chance to really open up. Wooyoung was used to being confident, used to pursuing what he wanted, but with San, he knew he had to tread carefully. He could sense that San was unsure, just like he was, and neither of them seemed willing to make the first big move.

That hesitation only made Wooyoung more infatuated.

He thought back to their last conversation, the way San had listened so intently as Wooyoung rambled about his favorite art pieces. And the way San's eyes had lit up when Wooyoung mentioned exhibiting his own work publicly... Wooyoung had seen it, even if San hadn't realized. San was talented, more talented than he gave himself credit for, and Wooyoung wanted to encourage him, to show him that he was capable of so much more than just posting anonymously on Instagram.

But it wasn't just about San's art. Wooyoung had been noticing little things lately—how San's gaze would linger on him when he thought Wooyoung wasn't paying attention, or how he'd flush just slightly when their hands brushed. There was something there. He knew he wasn't imagining it. But Wooyoung knew that pushing too hard might make San retreat.

This weekend would be perfect. They could hang out, no pressure, and maybe, just maybe, Wooyoung could get San to open up a little more. He wanted to tell San how he felt, but he wasn't sure if now was the right time. Was San ready for that? Would it scare him off?

Wooyoung picked up his phone again, staring at the screen, the conversation still open.

Wooyoung "Great! There's this new art exhibit opening downtown, if you're interested?"

He hesitated before sending it, wondering if it would be too much. But he wanted to see San's reaction, wanted to know if San felt the same excitement about art that he did—and maybe, he could nudge San closer to realizing his own potential. Wooyoung wasn't just attracted to San's looks—he was drawn to San's mind, his passion for art, and the quiet vulnerability he carried with him. If he was really honest with himself, San was also stunning.

Wooyoung hit send, leaning back on his bed with a soft sigh. Maybe this weekend would be the moment when everything finally clicked between them.

He just hoped he wasn't reading too much into it.

Jungho /Yeosang

The days after their coffee date felt like a blur of text messages, late-night conversations, and a growing sense of something undeniable between Yeosang and Jongho. They kept meeting up—sometimes at The Book Nook, sometimes at other cozy spots they discovered together. Each time, it felt like peeling back layers of each other, uncovering new facets, shared interests, and moments of quiet vulnerability.

One evening, a few weeks after their first coffee date, Yeosang and Jongho found themselves in a park near the river, lounging on a blanket under the fading sunset. Yeosang had brought a few books, and Jongho had packed a thermos of tea. The soft murmur of the river and the chirping of crickets created a serene backdrop as they talked, their conversation shifting effortlessly from books to life.

Jongho looked over at Yeosang, who was lying on his back, eyes closed, the tips of his fingers grazing the pages of *Kafka on the Shore*. "You know," Jongho began, his voice thoughtful, "I've been thinking about our conversations. About how much we just click."

Yeosang turned his head slightly, opening his eyes to meet Jongho's gaze. "Yeah? I've been thinking about that too."

Jongho sat up, propping himself on his elbow to face Yeosang more directly. "It's not just the books, or the shared interests. I feel like I can talk to you about anything. Like you see me for who I really am."

There was a pause, the air between them thick with unspoken words. Yeosang felt his heart pick up speed, the familiar jittery feeling creeping up again, though this time it was more from anticipation than nerves.

"I know what you mean," Yeosang replied quietly, sitting up as well, crossing his legs in front of him. "I've felt the same since the first time we met. It's rare to connect with someone like this."

Jongho let out a soft chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "I wasn't sure if you felt the same. I mean, I hoped you might, but I didn't want to rush things."

"I didn't either," Yeosang admitted, his voice steady but softer now. "But I don't think I want to wait any longer. If you're ready, I am."

Jongho's eyes lit up, a smile tugging at his lips. "You're serious?"

Yeosang nodded, feeling a weight lift off his chest. "Yeah. I think we should give this a shot. Us."

The simplicity of his words, combined with the steady look in his eyes, left no room for doubt. Jongho let out a small laugh, leaning forward just enough that their shoulders brushed. "I was hoping you'd say that."

For a moment, neither of them said anything. They just sat there, the weight of the decision settling around them in the most comfortable way. The river flowed quietly behind them, the last rays of sunlight casting a golden hue on the world.

Yeosang glanced down at his book, then back at Jongho. "So, if we're doing this, there's something I should tell you."

Jongho raised an eyebrow, his smile softening. "Oh? What's that?"

Yeosang bit his lip, a playful glint in his eye. "I've been holding back. There's this book I've been wanting to talk about, but I didn't want to seem too intense on our first few dates."

Jongho laughed, the sound light and genuine. "Okay, now I'm intrigued. What book are we talking about?"

Yeosang reached into his bag and pulled out a worn copy of *The Master and Margarita*. "It's one of my all-time favorites. But it's a bit... out there. Talking cats, surrealism, political satire—it's got a little bit of everything."

Jongho's eyes lit up with curiosity. "I've heard of it but never read it. You're going to have to give me the full breakdown."

As they leaned in, discussing the intricacies of the novel and what it all meant, their shoulders brushed again, and this time neither of them pulled away. The conversation flowed seamlessly from books to deeper topics—themes of faith, trust, and love weaving into their dialogue as naturally as any literary discussion.

At one point, Jongho turned to Yeosang, his voice soft but certain. "You know, I've never met anyone who can talk about books the way you do. It's like you're speaking my language."

Yeosang smiled, a warmth spreading through him. "That's probably because I feel the same way about you."

The evening wore on, but neither of them seemed to notice as the light faded and the stars began to dot the sky above. They had both found something in each other that neither had expected—a connection that felt as natural as breathing. As they sat there, under the blanket of the night, it became clear that this wasn't just a fleeting moment. This was the beginning of something real, something lasting.

"I think we're going to make a great story," Jongho said softly, his eyes reflecting the stars above.

Yeosang smiled, leaning just a little closer. "Yeah. I think so too."

Chapter Text

The weekend had finally arrived, and San found himself standing outside the small art gallery Wooyoung had mentioned. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness twisting in his stomach.

He wasn't sure what to expect—was this just another hangout, or was Wooyoung subtly trying to turn it into something more? San had spent the better part of the morning convincing himself that it wasn't a date, that Wooyoung was just being friendly. But now, as he stood here, waiting for Wooyoung to arrive, the hope tiny inside him was hard to push away.

He couldn't help it. Wooyoung was too good to be true—charming, funny, and, above all, stunning. Every time they were together, San found himself stealing glances, captivated by the way Wooyoung's confidence seemed to radiate from him effortlessly. San couldn't shake the feeling that Wooyoung was fully out of his league. How could someone like him, who hid behind his art and his shyness, ever be enough for someone as bright, magnetic and gorgeous as Wooyoung?

"Hey, San."

San's head snapped up at the sound of Wooyoung's voice. There he was, standing just a few feet away, smiling at him like he'd been waiting for this moment all day. San swallowed hard, trying to push down the sudden rush of nerves.

Wooyoung looked incredible, as always—tousled hair, that easy, confident smile, and eyes that seemed to shine when they met San's.

"Hey," San managed, his voice softer than he intended. He gave a small, nervous wave. "I didn't know if I was in the right place."

Wooyoung grinned, stepping closer. "You are. I'm glad you made it."

They walked into the gallery together, the air between them crackling with the kind of unspoken tension that San was starting to recognize but didn't quite know how to handle.

As they wandered through the exhibit, Wooyoung pointed out different pieces, casually talking about the colors, the textures, but San's mind kept drifting back to him. He tried to focus on the art, but every time Wooyoung leaned in a little too close, every time their arms brushed, it was like all the air was sucked out of the room.

San couldn't take it anymore. His thoughts were a jumbled mess of wanting to say something, to just do something, but the fear of misreading the situation kept his lips sealed. What if Wooyoung didn't see him that way? What if he was making a fool of himself, hoping for something that could never happen?

But then, Wooyoung paused in front of a large, abstract painting—bold strokes of red and blue dancing across the canvas. He turned to San, his expression more serious than usual, like he was weighing his words carefully.

"San," Wooyoung started, his voice lower than before. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you."

San's heart skipped a beat. "What is it?"

Wooyoung exhaled softly, looking down for a moment before meeting San's eyes again. "I don't want to make this awkward, but, well, I like you. Like, really like you." He paused "And I don't just mean as a friend. I've been trying to figure out how to say this for weeks now, but every time we're together, I just..." he trailed off for a minute. "I don't want to screw things up by coming on too strong." Wooyoung's face was pink, and he was looking across the room, seemingly too shy to make eye contact with San.

San blinked, his mind struggling to process what Wooyoung had just said. Did he really just say that? Was this actually happening?

"I—" San's voice caught in his throat. "You... like me?"

Wooyoung took a step closer, his gaze steady and warm, getting a boost of confidence, even while his cheeks were still flushed. "Yeah. I've liked you for a while now. You're so talented, San. You're kind, thoughtful, and you don't even realize how amazing you are. I didn't know if you'd ever feel the same way, but I couldn't keep pretending this was just casual. It's not for me, and it's been eating me up."

San's chest tightened, his emotions swirling between disbelief and a quiet, overwhelming joy. He had spent so long convincing himself that Wooyoung was out of reach, that he was just being polite, friendly, but not interested in him. And now, standing here, hearing those words, it felt like the ground was shifting beneath him.

"I—I like you too," San confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've liked you for a while too, but I didn't think... I didn't think you'd want someone like me. I mean, you're..." It was his turn to trail off, not knowing how to say what he meant, how to express the gap he'd always felt between them.

Wooyoung frowned, taking another step closer until they were just inches apart. "Someone like you?" he echoed, his voice soft but firm. "San, you're incredible. I know you probably don't see it, but I don't want anyone else. I've been hoping for this—for you—since I first realized Ink&Shade was you." He chuckled almost to himself "Hell, I think a part of me fell for you when I first saw your work on instagram."

San's breath hitched as he looked up at Wooyoung, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, feeling the warmth of his presence so close. The doubt that had been gnawing at him for months started to melt away, replaced by something softer, something real.

He hadn't been imagining it. The way Wooyoung had looked at him, the way he'd been so encouraging, so gentle—it had all been real.

Something internally in San cracked open, letting a flood of emotion, hope, attraction, arousal, excitement all tanged up and irrepressible.

Without thinking, San reached up and cupped the side of Wooyoung's face, his thumb brushing gently over Wooyoung's cheekbone. "I thought you were out of my league," San admitted, his voice trembling slightly. "I thought you'd never be interested in someone like me, beyond friendship."

Wooyoung's hand came up to cover San's, holding it in place as he leaned in, his forehead resting against San's. "You're everything I want, San," he murmured. "I don't care about leagues. I care about you."

The words hung between them for only a second before Wooyoung closed the small distance between them, pressing his lips to San's in a kiss that was both soft and urgent, like he'd been holding back for too long.

San's breath hitched, his fingers tightening slightly in Wooyoung's hair as he kissed him back, feeling the last of his insecurities fade away. This—this moment—was everything he hadn't dared hope for.

Wooyoung deepened the kiss, gently nipping at San's lips to grant him full access to his mouth. San's lips parted allowing Wooyoung's tongue to sweep into his mouth, tasting, sucking, causing a shiver to race down San's spine. He let out a small groan, which allowed Wooyoung to deepen the kiss further. San felt his heart flying in his chest, and a wave of arousal flood his body.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them breathless, Wooyoung smiled, his thumb gently tracing the line of San's jaw.

"You don't have to hide from me anymore," Wooyoung said softly. "I want to help you show the world your art, to see the talent that I see in you."

San's heart swelled, the fear and doubt replaced by a warmth that spread through his entire chest. Maybe he wasn't perfect, and maybe he didn't have everything figured out, but with Wooyoung by his side, he felt like he could take that step. He felt like he could do anything.

Knowing that Wooyoung felt what he was feeling, San believed that for now that was enough. That he was enough.

--

Seonghwa's POV

The evening after their coffee date, Seonghwa could barely focus on anything but the memory of Hongjoong's teasing words and that intense look in his eyes. As soon as he got home, his phone buzzed again. His heart skipped a beat, knowing exactly who it was before he even looked.

No1LikeJoong "Hey, did you make it home okay?"

Seonghwa smiled, a soft warmth spreading through him as he quickly typed back.

SeongStyle "Yeah, just got back. What about you?"

No1LikeJoong "I'm home. But if I'm being honest, I kinda wish we'd hung out longer."

Seonghwa's heart raced as he read the message. There was a part of him that had felt the same, not wanting the night to end. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure of how to reply without sounding too eager.

SeongStyle "Same here. It was fun."

His phone buzzed almost immediately, and he could tell from the rapid reply that Hongjoong wasn't holding back.

No1LikeJoong "You call that fun? I thought it was kinda... intense."

Seonghwa swallowed, the memory of their banter at the café replaying in his mind. There was no mistaking the playful tension that had brewed between them, and now, it was spilling into their texts.

SeongStyle "Intense? How so?"

There was a pause before the three little dots appeared, signaling that Hongjoong was typing. Seonghwa's pulse quickened, anticipation building.

No1LikeJoong "Well... let's just say it wasn't easy to focus on coffee when you looked that good sitting across from me."

Seonghwa's breath hitched. He wasn't used to such direct compliments, especially not from someone like Hongjoong, who had a way of making even the simplest words feel charged.

SeongStyle "I think you were the one making it hard to focus. You basically walked in looking like you were ready to shoot a fashion campaign."

No1LikeJoong "Flattery will get you everywhere, Seonghwa. But seriously, you were distracting. The way you kept biting your lip... you were driving me crazy. Made me want to be the one biting them."

Seonghwa's cheeks flushed, his fingers freezing over the keys for a second. Had Hongjoong just typed that? He hadn't even realized he was doing it. Before he could reply, another message popped up.

No1LikeJoong "Don't get me started on your eyes. You've got that whole shy but smoldering look down. It's dangerous, really. Dangerous and sexy as hell."

SeongStyle "Smoldering? I'm not sure that's what I was going for. You are making me blush."

Seonghwa bit his lip again, definitely pinker than he was a few minutes prior. He was feeling self-conscious but also... excited. The way Hongjoong was flirting with him so openly, so smoothly—it was exhilarating.

No1LikeJoong "You've been on my mind a lot Seonghwa,. In fact, I've been thinking about what else you could do with that shy, mysterious energy. You have me intrigued, I want more."

Seonghwa's heart pounded in his chest, the conversation taking a turn that was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. Was Hongjoong really flirting this intensely? His thumb hesitated over the keyboard, unsure of how far to take things. But then, a surge of boldness welled up inside him.

SeongStyle "More? I guess you'll just be patient then, won't you?"

There was a longer pause this time, and Seonghwa could almost imagine Hongjoong's reaction on the other side—probably smirking, his eyes gleaming with that playful intensity.

No1LikeJoong "Oh, I plan to. But I'm curious... how far does that mystery go?"

Seonghwa's pulse quickened again, his body reacting to the suggestive tone of Hongjoong's text. This was definitely heading into more dangerous territory, but he wasn't about to back down now.

SeongStyle "Depends on how much you want to uncover."

Almost immediately, Hongjoong's reply came, and Seonghwa felt a shiver of anticipation.

No1LikeJoong "Trust me, Seonghwa, I want to uncover everything. Slowly, though. You seem like the type who enjoys a bit of a tease, am I wrong?"

Seonghwa swallowed hard, his thoughts racing. Hongjoong was good at this—flirting, keeping things just on the edge of something more, making Seonghwa's heart pound with every word. But there was something addictive about the way the conversation flowed, the tension building with each message.

SeongStyle "You might be onto something. But I'm not sure if you can keep up."

The three dots appeared again, and Seonghwa found himself holding his breath, waiting for what Hongjoong would say next.

No1LikeJoong "Oh, I can definitely keep up. The real question is... can you?"

Seonghwa bit his lip, feeling the weight of the challenge. His mind swirled with the possibilities of where this conversation could go. A part of him wanted to keep pushing, to see just how far Hongjoong was willing to take this playful exchange. The other part—the part that was new to this level of flirtation—was both nervous and excited.

SeongStyle "Guess we'll have to test that theory."

No1LikeJoong "I'm counting on it. And just so you know, next time we're not stopping at coffee. I've got a few other ideas".

Seonghwa's pulse quickened at the implication behind Hongjoong's words, a mixture of thrill and nervous excitement rushing through him.

SeongStyle "Looking forward to hearing those ideas. You've got my attention, Hongjoong."

The response was immediate.

No1LikeJoong "Good. Because I plan on keeping it."

Seonghwa stared at the screen, his heart racing. He couldn't remember the last time someone had made him feel this way—so seen, so desired. Whatever this was between them, it was real, and the tension between them was only growing stronger with each word exchanged.

Seonghwa lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling, a soft smile playing on his lips. Whatever happened next, he was ready. Ready to see where this thing with Hongjoong could go, and ready to uncover everything about this connection between them—one flirty, electric message at a time.

Chapter Text

The kiss lingered in the air, a soft, electric buzz that seemed to wrap around them, holding them in the moment. San's heart raced as he pulled back just slightly, their foreheads still pressed together, their breaths mingling. He had never imagined this—Wooyoung's lips on his, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down his spine. It was all too real, too intense, and San didn't want it to end.

Wooyoung's fingers gently trailed down San's arm, leaving a line of fire in their wake. "You're shaking," he whispered, his voice low and intimate, the kind that made San's stomach flip.

San bit his lip, barely nodding. "I... I just didn't think this would happen."

"Neither did I," Wooyoung admitted, his hands resting on San's hips now, his touch firm yet tender. "But I'm glad it did."

The gallery around them had gone quiet, the soft hum of voices from earlier replaced by a charged silence that made everything feel more intimate. There was no one else there—just San, Wooyoung, and the artwork surrounding them. It felt like they were in their own world, wrapped in the safety of each other's presence.

San couldn't help but let his gaze drift over Wooyoung, noticing the way his shirt hugged his frame, the way his lips were slightly parted, his eyes darkened with an intensity that made San's pulse quicken. He had always thought Wooyoung was out of his league, but standing here, feeling the weight of Wooyoung's hands on him, hearing the quiet, almost reverent way he spoke—it was hard to remember why he'd ever felt that way.

Wooyoung's hand slid up, brushing San's cheek, his thumb tracing the line of his jaw as if committing it to memory. "You're beautiful," Wooyoung murmured, his voice rougher now, more intense. "You don't even realize it."

San's breath hitched at the words, his chest tightening with a mixture of disbelief and desire. Before he could second-guess himself, he leaned in again, pressing his lips to Wooyoung's, this time with more urgency, more need. The kiss deepened, their mouths moving together in a rhythm that felt both new and natural. San's fingers found their way into Wooyoung's hair, tugging gently as he pressed closer, the heat between them rising.

Wooyoung groaned softly into the kiss, his grip on San tightening as he pulled him even closer, their bodies flush against each other now. San could feel the steady beat of Wooyoung's heart against his chest, the warmth of his skin through his clothes, and it made his own heart race even faster. It was all so new—this feeling, this connection—but it felt right, like they'd been moving toward this moment for longer than either of them had realized.

The kiss became hungrier, more insistent, as Wooyoung's hands moved to San's waist, fingers slipping just beneath the hem of his shirt, the touch sending a spark of heat through San's body. San gasped, breaking the kiss just long enough to look up at Wooyoung, his lips swollen, his eyes wide with a mixture of desire and uncertainty.

"Is this okay?" Wooyoung asked, his voice a breathless whisper, his hands still resting at the edge of San's shirt, waiting for permission.

San nodded, unable to form words, the heat in his chest rising. He wanted this—he wanted Wooyoung.

That small nod was all Wooyoung needed. He slid his hands further under San's shirt, his palms warm against San's bare skin, sending shivers down his spine. San's breath hitched, his body reacting to the touch in a way that made his knees weak. Wooyoung's lips found his again, this time slower, deeper, their bodies moving together as if they'd done this a hundred times before.

The feeling of Wooyoung's hands exploring his skin, the heat of their bodies pressed together, was intoxicating. San couldn't help but arch into the touch, his fingers gripping Wooyoung's shoulders as the kiss grew more desperate, more intense. He had never felt anything like this before—this pull, this overwhelming need to be closer, to feel everything.

Wooyoung's lips left his, trailing down to San's neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses that made San's head spin. "You don't know how long I've wanted this," Wooyoung murmured against his skin, his voice rough and breathless. "How long I've wanted you."

San's heart raced, his skin tingling everywhere Wooyoung touched. He couldn't believe this was happening—that Wooyoung wanted him as much as he wanted Wooyoung. It felt like a dream, one he never wanted to wake from. "I want you too," San whispered, his voice trembling with emotion, his hands tightening in Wooyoung's hair as he pulled him closer, needing more, wanting more.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, lost in each other, the world outside the gallery forgotten. The kiss, the touch, the way their bodies moved together—it all felt right, natural, like they had been building toward this moment from the beginning.

But then, in the midst of the heat and the haze of their shared desire, Wooyoung pulled back just enough to look San in the eyes, his expression softening. "I don't want to rush this," he whispered, his fingers brushing a lock of hair from San's face. "I want to take my time with you, to get to know you more. We have all the time in the world."

San's heart swelled at the words, the sincerity in Wooyoung's voice grounding him in the moment. It wasn't just about the physical connection—there was something deeper here, something more than just attraction. And for the first time, San didn't feel out of place. He didn't feel like he wasn't enough.

Wooyoung wanted him, all of him, and San finally believed it.

"I'd like that," San whispered, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he leaned in for one more kiss—this one slower, sweeter, filled with the promise of everything that was still to come.

In the soft glow of the gallery lights, they stood together, two hearts beating in sync, the beginning of something real and profound taking shape between them.

In this moment, San felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Chapter Text

The walk back to Wooyoung's place was filled with an unspoken tension, a quiet excitement that hummed between them. San felt his heart pounding in his chest, but it wasn't the same nervousness he'd felt before. This was different—this was anticipation, a warm thrill curling in his stomach every time Wooyoung's arm brushed against his.

Neither of them said much, but the silence was comfortable, charged with everything that had passed between them in the gallery. San's mind was still replaying the moment Wooyoung had kissed him, the feeling of his hands on his skin, the weight of those words: I want to take my time with you. It had been the perfect balance—desire tempered with tenderness, and it made San's chest ache in the best way.

When they reached Wooyoung's apartment, San hesitated for a moment at the door, a sudden wave of uncertainty washing over him. He wasn't sure what came next. Was this where things got awkward? But before he could dwell on it, Wooyoung opened the door, turning back to give San a warm, reassuring smile.

"Come in," Wooyoung said softly, stepping aside to let him in. "You don't have to leave yet, if you don't want to."

San swallowed, feeling the invitation in those words. It wasn't just about staying—it was about being wanted. He nodded, stepping inside, and the door closed softly behind them, leaving them alone in the quiet space of Wooyoung's apartment.

It was cozy, filled with the kind of warmth San had always imagined Wooyoung would surround himself with. The walls were adorned with paintings, some that San recognized from their conversations about art. Books were stacked haphazardly on the coffee table, and the soft glow of lamps made everything feel intimate, like they were in their own little world.

"Want something to drink?" Wooyoung asked, his voice breaking through the quiet as he moved toward the kitchen. "Tea, maybe?"

"Yeah," San replied, smiling. "Tea sounds good."

As Wooyoung busied himself in the kitchen, San wandered around the living room, his eyes drawn to the paintings on the wall. He stopped in front of one, a vibrant, abstract piece, the colors swirling together in a way that reminded him of their conversation earlier—about how art could express what words couldn't. He felt a pang of something deeper, something that made him feel closer to Wooyoung in a way he hadn't expected.

"You like that one?" Wooyoung's voice was soft as he re-entered the room, two mugs of tea in his hands.

San nodded, taking the mug Wooyoung offered. "Yeah, it's beautiful. It feels... like you."

Wooyoung chuckled softly, sitting beside San on the couch, close but not crowding him. "I painted that one a few years ago. It was one of the first pieces I made that I actually liked."

San's gaze shifted to Wooyoung, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "You should show your work more often. You're really talented."

Wooyoung met his gaze, his eyes warm and thoughtful. "You're one to talk. You still haven't agreed to show your own work publicly."

San ducked his head, heat rising to his cheeks. "Yeah, well... I'm not as confident as you are."

Wooyoung reached out, his fingers brushing against San's hand, warm and grounding. "I don't think it's about confidence, San. Your art speaks for itself. You just have to trust that people will see what I see."

San's chest tightened at the words, a warmth spreading through him. There it was again—that feeling that Wooyoung saw him, in a way no one else did. His insecurities were still there, but with Wooyoung, they felt smaller, more manageable. He took a deep breath, letting the comfort of Wooyoung's presence settle over him.

They sat like that for a while, sipping tea, talking about art, life, and everything in between. The conversation was easy, flowing between them as naturally as it always had, but beneath it was an undercurrent of something deeper—something unspoken but felt. San could feel the tension building again, the same heat from the gallery humming between them.

At some point, Wooyoung set his mug down on the table and turned to face San more fully, his expression soft but intent. "I've been thinking about you," Wooyoung said quietly, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of San's knee, sending a jolt of awareness through him.

San's breath caught in his throat, his pulse quickening at the touch. "What do you mean?" he asked, though he was pretty sure he already knew.

Wooyoung's hand moved up slightly, resting just above San's knee, the warmth of his touch spreading through him. "I mean... I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. About us. Ever since our kiss."

San's heart raced, the room suddenly feeling smaller, more intimate. He could feel the pull between them, the unspoken desire that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks now, finally bubbling to the surface. He wanted to say something, to express everything he was feeling, but the words stuck in his throat.

Wooyoung leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from San's, his breath warm against his skin. "Is this okay?" he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, but the weight of the question was clear.

San didn't trust his voice, so he nodded, closing the small gap between them, seeking out Wooyoung's lips. As their lips met in a kiss that was softer than before, the intensity was still matched with the previous kiss. This time, there was no hesitation, no uncertainty—just the quiet, steady rhythm of their bodies moving together, the heat between them building as the kiss deepened.

San's hand slid up Wooyoungs's thigh, pulling him closer until Woo was practically sitting in his lap, their bodies pressed together in a way that made San's head spin. He let out a soft gasp as Wooyoung's lips trailed down to his neck, kissing a path that made San's skin tingle with every touch.

"God, you're beautiful," San murmured against Wooyoung's skin, his hands roaming under his shirt, exploring every inch of him.

Wooyoung's breath hitched, his fingers tangling in San's hair as he arched into the touch. He felt like he was burning from the inside out, every touch, every kiss sending a wave of heat through him that made it impossible to think of anything else but San. It was overwhelming, but in the best way.

As San's hands slid further up his back, Wooyoung let out a soft moan, his body responding to the growing intensity between them. He wanted more, needed more, he ground his hips into San's testing, he hoped it wasn't too much, too fast.

Sensing a slight shift in San's body, Wooyoung slowed down, pulling back just enough to meet San's gaze, his eyes searching for any sign of hesitation. "We don't have to go any further," Wooyoung said softly, his voice steady, reassuring. "We can take this as slow as you want."

San's heart swelled at the words, the tenderness in Wooyoung's gaze grounding him in the moment. He wasn't sure how he had gotten so lucky, how someone like Wooyoung could be so patient, so understanding, but he was grateful for it.

"I don't want to stop," San whispered, his voice soft but sure. "I just... I want to take our time."

Wooyoung smiled, his thumb brushing gently across San's cheek. "We'll take as long as you need."

San wasn't used to feeling this way, he was usually the one in control in the bedroom, despite being initially shy. However, Wooyoung was clearly a power bottom, which he typically didn't like, but coming from Woo it was downright sexy.

With that thought occurring to San, they kissed again, slower this time, savoring the moment, the closeness, the way their bodies fit together so perfectly. He wanted this moment to last forever.

Mingi POV

After the dinner plates had been cleared and the soft hum of conversation filled the restaurant, Mingi felt the tension in his chest finally begin to ease. The initial awkwardness that had consumed him earlier in the night had started to fade, thanks in large part to Yunho's playful teasing and easy going demeanor.

They were still the same best friends who could talk about anything, but there was something new between them now—something electric that made Mingi's heart race every time Yunho smiled at him.

As they stepped outside into the cool evening air, Yunho walked closer than usual, his arm brushing against Mingi's. The city lights glowed softly around them, and there was an intimacy in the air, a sense that the night wasn't quite over yet.

Yunho turned to Mingi, his expression soft, the warmth in his eyes unmistakable. "Do you want to walk for a bit?"

Mingi swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He didn't want the night to end—not yet. "Yeah, let's walk."

They set off down the street, neither of them speaking at first, content to let the silence stretch out between them. There was a peacefulness to the moment, but Mingi's heart continued to thud in his chest, his mind racing with everything he wanted to say but couldn't quite form into words. This was different—this was real. And it was happening with Yunho, the one person who had always made him feel safe, and now, changing into something so much more.

Yunho's hand brushed against his again, this time lingering for a second longer, as if testing the waters. Mingi bit his lip, his pulse quickening. He could feel the shift—the way Yunho's presence made the air between them hum with tension, the kind that left Mingi breathless.

Finally, Yunho slowed his pace, turning slightly so that they were facing each other. The street was quiet now, the world narrowing to just the two of them. Yunho's eyes searched Mingi's face, and there was a tenderness there, a question lingering in the space between them.

"I know this is new," Yunho said softly, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down Mingi's spine. "But it feels... right. Doesn't it?" He reached gently for Mingi's hand.

Mingi nodded, his breath catching in his throat. He had never imagined that being with Yunho could feel like this—like everything had fallen into place, even though it terrified him at the same time. "It does," he whispered.

Yunho smiled, that easy, reassuring smile that had always calmed Mingi, and he took a small step closer. "I've been wanting to do something all night," Yunho admitted, his voice almost a whisper now. "But I didn't want to rush you."

Mingi's pulse raced as Yunho's words hung in the air, thick with anticipation. He knew exactly what Yunho was referring to, and for the first time that night, Mingi felt his nerves melt away completely.

"You're not rushing me," Mingi said softly, stepping closer himself until their bodies were just inches apart. His heart pounded in his chest, and he could feel the heat radiating from Yunho, the closeness making everything feel more intense. "I've been thinking about it too."

Yunho's eyes flickered with something unreadable, a mixture of affection and something deeper. Slowly, he raised his hand and gently cupped Mingi's cheek, his thumb brushing against Mingi's skin in a way that made his breath hitch.

"Mingi," Yunho whispered, his voice soft but filled with meaning.

Before Mingi could reply, Yunho leaned in, closing the distance between them, and pressed his lips to Mingi's in a kiss that was soft and slow—almost hesitant, like he was giving Mingi a chance to pull away. But Mingi didn't pull away. Instead, he melted into the kiss, his hands finding their way to Yunho's shoulders as he kissed him back, their mouths moving together in a tender, unhurried rhythm.

The world around them seemed to disappear, leaving only the warmth of Yunho's lips and the steady thrum of Mingi's heart as it beat wildly in his chest. The kiss was soft, but it was filled with a quiet intensity, a promise of something deeper. When Yunho finally pulled back, just enough to look into Mingi's eyes, the connection between them felt stronger than ever.

"Wow...," Mingi breathed, his voice barely audible as he tried to catch his breath.

Yunho chuckled softly, his forehead resting gently against Mingi's. "Yeah," he murmured. "Wow."

They stood there for a moment longer, the night air cool around them but the warmth of the kiss lingering. Mingi felt like he was floating, the nervousness he'd felt earlier in the night replaced with a deep sense of contentment. This was real—what he had with Yunho. He could allow himself to feel, finally he wasn't afraid of overstepping, or pretending.

"I-I really like you," Mingi blurted out, his voice raw with emotion. "I mean... I know we've been best friends for so long, but this—" He gestured between them. "I want this, more. With you."

Yunho's expression softened, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I want this too," he said, his voice steady and sure. "I've been thinking about it for a long time, Mingi. I never knew you felt it too, and now that we're finally here... I don't want to be just your best friend anymore. I want more, everything Mingi, I want it all." He smiled, blushing a bit at his confession.

Mingi's heart swelled at Yunho's words, the nervousness that had gripped him all night fading completely. He had been worried, not wanting to ruin their friendship, or rushing into this step and not knowing what would happen, or if Yunho wanted this. But now, standing here together, he knew that it was worth it.

Mingi reached for Yunho's hand, lacing their fingers together. "Then let's do this," he said, his voice filled with quiet confidence. "Let's be more."

Yunho squeezed his hand, his eyes shining with warmth and something deeper. "I'd like that," he whispered, pulling Mingi in for another kiss, this one slower, more deliberate, but just as tender.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads resting against each other, Mingi couldn't help but smile. This was just the beginning, and, for once he wasn't afraid of what came next.

He was ready for it—ready for all of it, with Yunho by his side.

Chapter Text

San POV:

The days after that night at Wooyoung's apartment were filled with a kind of warmth and excitement that San had never felt before. Things between them had shifted—there was no more hesitation, no more uncertainty. The kisses, the touches, and the shared moments felt easy now, like they had always been meant to be this way.

San couldn't help but smile to himself as he sat at his usual table in the campus café, sketching absentmindedly in h is notebook. He had texted Wooyoung earlier, and they were supposed to meet here in a few minutes. The anticipation of seeing him again made San's chest feel lighter, a pleasant hum of excitement coursing through him.

But then, as he looked up from his sketchbook, San's heart sank. Standing in the doorway, scanning the room, was him—Keeho, San's ex. He hadn't seen Keeho in months, not since they'd ended things, and San wasn't prepared for the flood of emotions that hit him as soon as he recognized that familiar face.

Keeho hadn't changed much—same easy grin on his handsome face, same casual confidence. But the sight of him brought back memories that San had been trying to forget, moments that had left him feeling like he was never quite enough. Their relationship had been intense, filled with highs and lows, San never feeling like he was meeting Keeho's expectations or being outgoing enough for Keeho, and in the end, it had left San more uncertain of himself than ever.

Keeho's eyes landed on San, and in an instant, he was crossing the room, that old, familiar smile plastered across his face.

"San!" Keeho's voice was warm, but it made San's stomach flip with unease. "Wow, it's been a while."

San nodded, trying to force a smile. "Yeah, it has. How've you been?"

Keeho pulled out the chair across from San and sat down without waiting for an invitation, his eyes flicking to the sketchbook in front of San. "Same old, you know, working, traveling a bit. Still taking photos when I get the chance. What about you? Still doing your art thing?"

San resisted the urge to close his sketchbook, feeling exposed under Keeho's gaze. "Yeah, I'm still drawing."

Keeho's eyes softened as he looked at San, and for a moment, it was like they were back in the past, before everything had gone wrong. "I miss this," Keeho said quietly, leaning forward a bit. "Talking with you. Being around you."

San shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He wasn't sure what Keeho's sudden appearance meant, or what he wanted, but the familiar feeling of doubt began creeping in. Keeho had always had a way of making San feel both wanted and inadequate at the same time—like he was never quite enough, but always just close enough to what Keeho wanted.

"I—" San started, but before he could finish, a voice interrupted them.

"San."

San's heart leapt into his throat as he turned to see Wooyoung standing just a few feet away, his expression calm but his eyes sharp, taking in the scene in front of him. The sight of Wooyoung brought a wave of relief, but also a jolt of panic. This wasn't how he wanted Wooyoung to meet Keeho.

Keeho turned, glancing at Wooyoung with a curious smirk. "Oh, hey," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Didn't realize you were expecting someone."

Wooyoung's gaze flickered from Keeho to San, a question lingering in his eyes, though his voice remained steady. "He is. I'm Wooyoung, by the way." He extended his hand toward Keeho, who shook it casually.

"Keeho," he replied with that same easy smile. "Nice to meet you."

San could feel the tension building in the air, and he desperately wished he could disappear into the floor. The last thing he wanted was for this to turn into something awkward, but he could see the way Wooyoung's jaw tightened, and could feel the shift in the energy between them.

Keeho, ever acting oblivious, leaned back in his chair, grinning at Wooyoung. "So, you and San... are you two—"

"Together," Wooyoung said smoothly, cutting him off before he could finish the sentence. His left hand moved to rest on the back of San's chair, his right on San's arm, a subtle but clear gesture that left no room for ambiguity.

Keeho raised an eyebrow, his grin widening slightly. "Ah, got it. Well, that's... interesting. Good for you guys."

San felt his cheeks flush, caught between the lingering discomfort of Keeho's presence and the warmth that bloomed in his chest at Wooyoung's quiet, protective gesture. He had never heard Wooyoung say it out loud before—together. It felt real, more real than it had before, and the word sent a thrill of something deeper through San's body.

But Keeho wasn't done. Of course he wasn't.

He leaned forward again, his gaze settling on San with an intensity that made San's pulse quicken, but not in a good way. "Look, San," he started, his tone soft but layered with something that felt too familiar. "I know we didn't end things in the best way, but... I've been thinking a lot about us. About what we had."

San's throat tightened. This was exactly what he had been afraid of. Keeho's words always had a way of getting under his skin, making him doubt everything, especially when it came to his own worth. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Wooyoung spoke up, his voice firm but not unkind.

"Keeho, I'm sure you two have history, but I don't think right now is the time for that," Wooyoung said, his eyes meeting Keeho's with a calm intensity. "San's moved on. Seems like you should respect that, and probably do the same."

The silence that followed felt heavy, but San felt a wave of relief wash over him. Wooyoung's words weren't just protective—they were the truth. San had moved on. He had found something with Wooyoung that made him feel more secure, more himself than he had ever felt with Keeho.

Keeho held Wooyoung's gaze for a moment longer before finally shrugging, standing up and pushing his chair back. "Alright, alright. Message received." He glanced down at San one last time, his expression unreadable. "Take care, San."

And with that, Keeho turned and walked out of the café, leaving San and Wooyoung alone.

The silence that followed was thick, but when Wooyoung turned to San, the tension melted away. Wooyoung's hand found San's, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You okay?" he asked softly, his voice full of concern.

San nodded, though his heart was still pounding. "Yeah. I'm fine. I just... didn't expect to see him."

Wooyoung's gaze softened, his thumb brushing lightly over San's knuckles. "You don't have to explain anything to me. I get it—exes can be complicated."

San let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, feeling the tension in his chest finally start to ease. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice filled with a gratitude he wasn't sure how to put into words.

"For what?" Wooyoung asked, his smile warm and genuine.

"For... being here," San replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "For saying what you said. I... I've never had someone stand up for me like that. It felt good, not to mention you are sexy when you are being protective."

Wooyoung's expression softened even more, and he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to San's forehead. "I'll always stand up for you and protect you," he murmured. "You don't have to worry about that."

San's heart swelled at the words, and in that moment, he knew—whatever doubts Keeho had planted in his mind before were gone now. Wooyoung was here, and he wasn't going anywhere. And for the first time in his life, San truly believed that he was enough, just as he was.

---

Seonghwa / Hongjoong

The days after their flirty message exchange passed in a blur for Seonghwa. Every time his phone buzzed, a rush of excitement coursed through him, knowing it was probably Hongjoong.

Their conversations had continued, filled with teasing banter and an undeniable tension that seemed to deepen with each word exchanged. But it wasn't just physical.

With each late-night conversation, Seonghwa felt something more, something that tugged at his heart in a way he hadn't expected.

It was a warm Friday evening when Hongjoong suggested they meet again. This time, he wasn't suggesting coffee.

No1LikeJoong: How about my place tonight? I'll make dinner. We can hang out, watch a movie... just us.

Seonghwa stared at the message, his heart hammering in his chest. He had been waiting for this, for the moment where the playfulness would evolve into something more tangible. But still, his fingers hesitated over the keyboard.

SeongStyle: I'd love that. What time?

---

That evening, Seonghwa stood outside Hongjoong's apartment, the cool air doing little to calm his nerves. He'd been to Hongjoong's place before, but this felt different—more intimate, more charged with everything they hadn't yet said. After one last deep breath, Seonghwa knocked on the door.

When the door swung open, Hongjoong greeted him with that easy smile, but this time, there was something more in his gaze—something that made Seonghwa's breath catch in his throat.

"Hey," Hongjoong said, his voice soft as he stepped aside to let Seonghwa in. "You look good."

Seonghwa blushed, his stomach fluttering at the compliment. "You too."

The apartment was dimly lit, the soft glow of a few candles casting warm shadows across the room. The smell of something delicious wafted from the kitchen, but Seonghwa could barely focus on it.

His attention was fully on Hongjoong, who was now standing much closer than before, his hand resting lightly on Seonghwa's arm.

"I made pasta," Hongjoong said, his voice casual, but his eyes were anything but. "Figured we could eat and then just... see what happens."

Seonghwa nodded, swallowing hard. The heat from Hongjoong's hand seemed to radiate through his whole body, and the unspoken tension between them was palpable.

Dinner was a blur. They talked, laughed, and fell into their familiar rhythm of teasing banter, but the atmosphere felt heavier, the anticipation building with every lingering glance and brush of their hands. Seonghwa could feel his heart race whenever their fingers accidentally touched as they passed plates, the casual moments charged with something more.

After dinner, they settled onto the couch, side by side, watching a movie neither of them was paying much attention to. The space between them felt both too small and too vast at the same time. Seonghwa could feel Hongjoong's presence beside him—warm, comforting, but also electrifying. His mind raced, wondering when the moment would come, when the tension that had been building for weeks would finally break.

As if reading his thoughts, Hongjoong shifted closer, his leg pressing against Seonghwa's. Seonghwa's breath hitched, and he glanced over at Hongjoong, who was already looking at him.

"You know," Hongjoong murmured, his voice low and smooth, "I've been thinking about that shy, mysterious energy of yours."

Seonghwa's heart raced, his pulse quickening as Hongjoong's fingers grazed his hand. "Yeah?"

Hongjoong's gaze flickered down to Seonghwa's lips, and his voice softened even more. "I think it's time I find out just how much of a mystery you really are."

Before Seonghwa could respond, Hongjoong leaned in, his hand gently cupping Seonghwa's cheek. The moment felt slow, deliberate, like they had been building to this for weeks, and now it was finally happening. When their lips finally met, the kiss was soft at first, almost tentative, but it quickly deepened.

Seonghwa's hands found their way to Hongjoong's shoulders, gripping tightly as their mouths moved together in perfect sync. The kiss was filled with the pent-up desire that had been simmering between them for so long. Seonghwa's body hummed with electricity as Hongjoong pulled him closer, his hands sliding down Seonghwa's back, sending shivers down his spine.

They broke apart for a moment, breathless, foreheads resting against each other.

"Wow," Seonghwa whispered, his heart pounding.

Hongjoong chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over Seonghwa's jaw. "Yeah. Wow."

But the kiss didn't stop there. Hongjoong leaned in again, this time with more urgency, more need. His lips moved against Seonghwa's with a tenderness that sent a rush of warmth through him, but there was an intensity beneath it that left Seonghwa breathless. The feel of Hongjoong's hands on his skin, the way their bodies pressed together—it was overwhelming, in the best possible way.

They sank deeper into the couch, the movie long forgotten. Hongjoong's fingers threaded through Seonghwa's hair as their kisses grew more heated, more desperate. Seonghwa's pulse raced, his mind spinning with how natural this felt—how right it felt to be this close to Hongjoong, to let him in.

It wasn't just about the physical connection. As they finally pulled apart, their foreheads pressed together, panting softly, Seonghwa felt something deeper settle in his chest. It wasn't just the kiss that had left him breathless—it was the realization that this wasn't just a fleeting moment, that what they had felt like more. More intense, more real, more natural.

Hongjoong seemed to feel it too. His hand gently cupped Seonghwa's face, his thumb brushing over his cheek in a slow, comforting gesture. "Seonghwa, I... I know we've been dancing around this for a while. But I don't want to just keep flirting and pretending. I want more. With you."

Seonghwa's breath hitched at Hongjoong's words, his heart swelling with emotions he hadn't quite been able to name until now. The nervousness he had felt, the teasing, the electricity between them—it had all been leading to this.

"I want that too," Seonghwa whispered, his voice barely audible. "I want more."

Hongjoong's smile softened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Then let's stop pretending this is just fun flirting, and keeping it casual. Let's be real."

Seonghwa nodded, his chest filled with a quiet certainty that he hadn't felt before. "Let's be real."

They kissed again, this time slower, more tender, their lips moving together in a way that felt like a promise—of more nights like this, of more shared moments, of something deeper than just physical connection. It felt like the beginning of something that could last, something that mattered.

When they finally pulled apart, Seonghwa rested his head on Hongjoong's shoulder, his body still humming with the warmth of their kisses. The movie played on in the background, but neither of them paid any attention. They were too caught up in each other, in the newness of what they had, but also in the comfort of knowing that this was just the beginning.

"I'm really glad we did this," Seonghwa murmured, his voice soft but filled with meaning. " I really like you, and I feel so comfortable and secure with you."

"Me too, Seonghwa, you are really incredible," Hongjoong replied, his arm wrapping around Seonghwa's shoulders, pulling him closer. "And I'm looking forward to what comes next."

Seonghwa smiled, feeling a wave of contentment wash over him. He didn't know exactly what the future held for them, but he felt like he didn't have to worry. With Hongjoong by his side, whatever came next, they would be together.

~~~

Gaaaah, I just love them all so much. The cutest.

Chapter Text

It had taken San days to work up the courage, but after a series of tentative text messages, he finally invited Wooyoung over for dinner with him and his mother.

What he hadn't expected was for Wooyoung to say yes so easily, without hesitation, which made the anxiety building in San's chest both better and worse. Now, as he stood in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and trying to keep his hands from shaking, he wondered if this had been a mistake.

It wasn't that he didn't want Wooyoung to meet his mom—it was just that this felt big. Too big. His mom was his world, and letting Wooyoung into that part of his life made everything more real, more vulnerable. San wasn't sure if he was ready for that, not after everything with Keeho.

The sound of the doorbell snapped San out of his thoughts, and his heart leaped into his throat. He wiped his hands on a towel and hurried to the door, taking a deep breath before opening it.

There was Wooyoung, standing with a small bouquet of flowers in his hand and a smile that instantly made San's nerves a bit better, but his heart-rate explode. Wooyoung looked amazing, effortlessly sexy, dressed casually but with the natural charm San had come to expect from him. He was always just so... put together.

"Hey," Wooyoung said, holding out the flowers. "For your mom. I wasn't sure what she liked, so I went with something classic."

San's heart swelled at the gesture. "Thank you, you didn't have to do that," he said, taking the flowers with a soft smile. "I'm sure she'll love them."

Wooyoung grinned, stepping inside and giving San a quick kiss on the cheek. "I hope so. I'm a little nervous, to be honest."

"You? Nervous?" San teased, though there was a part of him that was relieved. Maybe Wooyoung wasn't as confident about all of this as he seemed.

"Hey, meeting someone's mom is a big deal," Wooyoung replied with a laugh, though there was a flicker of something more serious in his eyes. "I want to make a good impression."

They shared a quiet smile, but the weight of the evening settled between them. San led Wooyoung into the kitchen, where his mom was already waiting. She greeted Wooyoung warmly, making a joke about how San never brought friends over and how nice it was to meet someone who had been making him so happy lately. The conversation flowed easily, with Wooyoung charming his mom almost effortlessly, asking about her interests and sharing stories about his family.

It should have been perfect. But as the evening went on, San couldn't shake the growing tension building in the pit of his stomach. Wooyoung was amazing—too amazing, and the fear that had been gnawing at him for days resurfaced. He wanted to let Wooyoung in, to fully trust him, but the shadows of his past with Keeho, his fear and his hurt kept creeping into his mind.

Dinner passed without a hitch, and soon enough, it was just San and Wooyoung, sitting on the porch swing outside. The air between them was warm and comfortable, but San could feel the unspoken tension growing thicker with every minute.

"You were great with my mom," San said softly, breaking the silence. "She really liked you."

Wooyoung smiled, but there was something in his eyes that San couldn't quite place—something more serious. "I liked her too. It was nice... being a part of your world like that."

San nodded, looking down at his hands, unsure of where the conversation was headed. He could feel Wooyoung's gaze on him, and it made his heart race.

Wooyoung let out a slow breath, his voice soft but firm. "San, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, of course," San replied, glancing up at him, trying to keep his nerves in check.

Wooyoung hesitated for a moment, as if searching for the right words. "What are we?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded with meaning. San's stomach twisted, the fear he had been pushing down all evening rising to the surface. He knew this conversation was coming—he had felt it building for weeks—but now that it was here, he didn't know how to handle it.

"I mean, I really like you," Wooyoung continued, his voice steady but full of emotion. "And I want this—us—to be something real. But I feel like you're still holding back, like you're not sure if you want the same thing."

San swallowed hard, his mind racing. He wanted to be with Wooyoung—he did—but there was a part of him that still couldn't let go of the fear, the lingering doubts that Keeho had left behind. What if he wasn't enough? What if Wooyoung realized that he deserved someone better, someone who wasn't so hesitant, so guarded?

"I... I don't know," San admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's not that I don't like you. I do. I really do. But..."

Wooyoung's expression softened, but there was a flicker of frustration in his eyes. "But what? Is it about your ex? Is it because of what happened with Keeho?"

San winced at the mention of Keeho's name, feeling the weight of his past crashing down on him. He hadn't wanted to bring Keeho into this—hadn't wanted Wooyoung to see that part of him, the part that was still damaged, still scared. But now it was out in the open, and there was no avoiding it.

"Maybe," San admitted, his voice trembling. "It's just... I don't want to get hurt again. And I don't want to hurt you."

Wooyoung's jaw tightened, and he looked away, his hands clenched into fists. "San, I'm not him. I'm not Keeho. I wouldn't do that to you."

"I know," San said quickly, reaching out to touch Wooyoung's arm, his heart aching at the pain in Wooyoung's voice. "I know that. But it's hard. It's hard for me to trust that this is real, that I won't mess it up somehow."

Wooyoung pulled back slightly, the distance between them growing even though they were sitting side by side. "So what do we do, then?" he asked, his voice quieter now, more resigned. "Do we just keep pretending like we're fine, like we're not both feeling this?"

San's chest tightened, the fear and doubt swirling inside him. He didn't know what to say, didn't know how to fix this. What he knew for certain was that he didn't want to lose Wooyoung, but at the same time, he wasn't sure if he could be the person Wooyoung needed him to be.

"I think maybe... we need some space," Wooyoung said finally, his voice breaking through the silence. "Just for a little while. Until you figure out what you really want."

The words hit San like a punch to the gut, but he knew Wooyoung was right. As much as it hurt, as much as he wanted to hold onto what they had, he couldn't keep dragging Wooyoung along if he wasn't sure he could fully commit. His fear was still in the way, and it wasn't fair to ask Wooyoung to wait while he sorted himself out.

"Okay," San whispered, his voice barely audible. "Maybe some space would be good."

They sat in silence for a few moments longer, the weight of their decision settling between them. When Wooyoung finally stood to leave, San's heart ached with the realization that he had pushed away the one person who had made him feel like he was enough.

As the door closed behind Wooyoung, San sat in the quiet of his empty home, wondering if he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

Chapter Text

The evening of San's first art exhibition opening arrived faster than he could have imagined. The gallery was filled with soft murmurs of admiration, and the walls were lined with his pieces—his heart and soul displayed for everyone to see. It was surreal, overwhelming even, and San's chest was tight with anxiety as he stood in the corner, watching people move from painting to painting, whispering their thoughts to one another.

This was his dream, or at least, what WOoyoung had encouraged him to believe he could do. He had always thought it would be overwhelming and scary, but Wooyoung had made it feel possible, that he was good enough for this. That his art was worth showing to others.

Now, in the moment, all he could think about was his distance from Wooyoung, and he had been ruminating on their last conversation since it had happened. They hadn't really spoken much since that night, just the occasional text about the opening, and logistics. It had none of the flirty warmth of before they had agreed to take some space. While San was pretty sure it had been the right decision, the distance had left him with a hollow ache that no amount of art or accolades could fill. Wooyoung mattered more to him than this, and ironically, he had this incredible night because of Wooyoung.

"San," a voice called, snapping him out of his self-pitying thoughts. His mom was standing by one of his pieces, waving him over with a proud smile. "Come meet some of the people who've been admiring your work."

San plastered on a smile, though it felt forced at best, and moved through the small crowd to join her. He spent the next hour mingling, trying to answer questions and accept compliments with the kind of grace an artist was supposed to have. But all the while, his mind kept drifting back to Wooyoung.

This show had only happened because of him. It was Wooyoung who had believed in San's talent when he wasn't sure of himself. It was Wooyoung who had pushed him, gently but persistently, to take this step, even when fear had held him back.

And now, standing here without him felt awful, wrong.

As San turned away from yet another conversation, he glanced toward the entrance of the gallery, his heart skipping a beat. There, standing just inside the door, was Wooyoung. He was dressed in a tailored black suit, and matching pants. Under his suit was a black dress shirt with the top two buttons undone. He managed to look classic, effortless and like he belonged at a gallery opening all at once. San's breath caught in his throat. He hadn't expected him to come. In fact, he wasn't sure if Wooyoung would want to see him again at all, after the way they had left things.

Still, here he was, looking every bit as confident and composed as always. And yet, there was something different in Wooyoung's expression—something softer, something that made San's heart ache even more.

Wooyoung caught his gaze across the room, and for a moment, the noise of the gallery seemed to fade into the background. Everything else disappeared, leaving only the two of them standing on opposite ends of the room, the space between them suddenly feeling both vast and insignificant.

San swallowed hard, his feet moving before he had time to think. He wove through the crowd, his pulse racing with every step he took toward Wooyoung. His nerves bubbled up again, all the things left unsaid rushing to the surface.

When he finally reached the place where Wooyoung was standing, neither of them spoke for a long moment. Wooyoung's eyes scanned the room briefly before landing back on San, a small, almost wistful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"This is incredible, San," Wooyoung said softly, his voice cutting through the tension that hung between them. "You should be so proud."

San's chest tightened at the words, and he nodded, unable to fully process the emotion that swelled inside him. "I... I wouldn't have done it without you," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're the reason I'm standing here."

Wooyoung's eyes softened, but there was still that distance between them, the unspoken words that lingered in the air. "I'm really happy for you, San. You deserve all of this."

There was a sadness in Wooyoung's tone that made San's heart clench. It was like he was happy for him, but from a distance—as if he wasn't a part of this anymore, as if he was already saying goodbye.

San realized, with a sudden, overwhelming clarity, that he couldn't let this moment slip away. Not again. It was suddenly so obvious that he couldn't live without Wooyoung in his life, not only as a friend, but his lover, his heart, his destiny.

"Wooyoung," San began, his voice trembling slightly as he stepped closer, closing the gap between them. "I've been thinking about everything between us. What you said, what you need, what I need, everything."

Wooyoung looked at him, his expression guarded, but there was a flicker of hope in his eyes. "And?"

San took a deep breath, realizing this was his chance, his heart pounding as he finally let the words spill out. "I was scared. I still am, but... I don't want to be afraid anymore. I don't want to push you away because of my past. You've been nothing but patient with me, and I've been so focused on what could go wrong that I forgot to think about what could go right."

Wooyoung's eyes widened slightly, the tension in his posture easing just a bit as he listened.

"I want to be with you," San continued, his voice gaining strength with every word. "For real. I want to figure this out, together. I know I haven't made it easy, I've hurt you. I'm so sorry. I'm ready. I don't want to lose you Wooyoung, you mean everything to me. I don't even know exactly when it happened, but I ache to be with you when you are gone, and I can't imagine my life without you in it. Please stay, be with me. I'll keep being better, just..please."

The vulnerability in San's confession hung in the air, and for a moment, Wooyoung just stared at him, as if he was trying to process everything San had just said.

Then, slowly, a smile spread across Wooyoung's face—soft, but filled with so much emotion that it made San's heart skip a beat. "I never wanted you to be anything but yourself, San," Wooyoung said quietly, his voice full of warmth. "I just wanted you to let me in."

San let out a shaky breath, relief washing over him in waves. "I know, I'm sorry it took me so long."

Wooyoung stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup San's cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across his skin. "It's okay," he whispered. "We're here now."

The moment stretched between them, and San felt the tension, the fear, the doubt—all of it melting away in the warmth of Wooyoung's touch. He leaned into it, his eyes fluttering shut for just a moment, allowing himself to feel everything without holding back.

And then, before he could stop himself, he closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to Wooyoung's in a kiss that was both soft and desperate. It wasn't just about passion—it was about everything they hadn't said, everything they had been holding back for so long. It was about the fear of losing something real and the relief of finding it again.

Wooyoung kissed him back, his hand sliding to the back of San's neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss in a way that made San's head spin. The noise of the gallery, the people around them—it all faded into the background. All that mattered was this—this moment, this kiss, this chance at something new.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them breathless, Wooyoung rested his forehead against San's, his voice low and filled with affection. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for that."

San laughed softly, the sound full of relief and happiness. "Me too."

They stood there for a moment longer, wrapped in each other's presence, the weight of everything that had been keeping them apart finally gone.

"Now," Wooyoung said with a grin, pulling back just enough to look San in the eyes, "let's go celebrate your exhibition, shall we?"

San smiled, his heart full and light as he looked around at the room—the paintings, the people, the space that was filled with his art and now, with Wooyoung by his side, his life felt whole in a way he had never expected.

"Yeah," San said softly, taking Wooyoung's hand in his. "Let's do that."

As they walked through the gallery together, hand in hand, San felt something shift inside him. It wasn't just about the art anymore—it was about everything that came with it. The fear of putting himself out there, the vulnerability of being seen for who he truly was—it had all led to this. Overcoming his fear, of sharing his heart with others - it was magical, freeing.

San was just here, present to the moment, not worried about what came next. He was ready to face it, and with Wooyoung by his side he felt even more confident.

Chapter Text

San and Wooyoung enjoyed the rest of the evening together, as the last of the guests were leaving the gallery, Wooyoung leaned in and whispered into San's ear.

"Can I stay at yours tonight?" while gently caressing San's neck.

San's skin immediately broke out into shivers. His heart leaping in his chest.

"Yes, of course," He tried to seem cool and collected "Let's get out of here, yeah?"

Wooyoung nodded, looking up at him with a coy smile. Running his hand down San's back in a sweet, and a bit possessive motion.

San suddenly couldn't think about anything but getting Wooyoung out of there.

"Hang on babe, I need to say goodbye to the Gallery folks, and then we can get out of here."

San practically ran to the back of the Gallery where the last few partons and the Gallery curator were. He thanked them for an incredible night, and assured her he would be in touch to chat more about another show in the future.

She smiled and gave him a knowing look as she said good night. San was too ecstatic to care, his focus solely on getting out of there with Wooyoung.

As they stepped out into the cool night, San reached for Wooyoung's hand, intertwining their fingers as they walked down the quiet street toward his apartment. There was a delicious tension between them, an unspoken anticipation that made every small touch and every glance electric.

They barely made it inside San's door before Wooyoung tugged him close, his hand slipping under the lapel of San's jacket as he looked up with a gentle, heated gaze. "Tonight was perfect, you know that?" Wooyoung whispered, his fingers curling around the fabric, pulling San even closer.

San's heart was pounding, and he could hardly believe this was happening, that he had Wooyoung here, looking at him like he was the only person in the world. He placed a hand on Wooyoung's waist, brushing his thumb over his hip. "You made it perfect," he murmured, his voice low as he leaned in.

Their breaths mingled, the space between them shrinking with every passing second. Wooyoung's eyes flickered down to San's lips, and that was all the invitation San needed. He dipped his head, capturing Wooyoung's mouth in a slow, tender kiss. It was soft at first, just a brush of lips, but then Wooyoung's fingers slid up to tangle in San's hair, pulling him deeper, and San gladly gave in.

San's hands found their way around Wooyoung's waist, pulling him flush against him, the warmth of their bodies melding together. Wooyoung let out a soft, pleased hum against San's lips, pressing himself closer, his hands exploring along San's shoulders and down his back. This unleashed a primal urge in San and he pushed Wooyoung against the wall, kissing him harder, his hand coming up around Wooyoungs neck to cradle it. Each touch, each kiss, felt like a promise, filled with longing, profound need and urgency.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting together, eyes half-lidded and filled with warmth. Wooyoung's lips were slightly swollen, his face flushed, and he looked up at San with a sultry look that sent a thrill through him. He seemed to enjoy the rougher treatment. That made San's cock leap in his pants.

"Still good with me staying over?" Wooyoung asked softly, his voice teasing but laced with some hesitancy.

San smirked, his hand gently cradling the back of Wooyoung's neck squeezing a bit. "More than good," he whispered, his voice rich with anticipation. He leaned in, brushing a kiss along Wooyoung's jaw, then nipping him just hard enough to feel it, but not leave a mark. San lips lingering against his skin, and he kissed Wooyoung's neck. "I want you here."

The way Wooyoung's hands tightened on his arms, the soft sigh he let out—it was everything. San felt like he was on fire, he had the urge to make Woooyung his, bend him to his will, his every sense alive to the feeling of Wooyoung's touch, his scent, the way he melted into his embrace. It was a heady feeling to have Woo trust him enough to surrender to him. He guided Wooyoung backward, lips never leaving him, until they were standing just outside the bedroom door.

Wooyoung looked up at him, his eyes dark with anticipation, his breath coming quickly as he lifted a hand to trace along San's collar. "Then show me," he murmured, his voice barely more than a sassy whisper, laced with both challenge and invitation.

San's pulse quickened, and he leaned down, capturing Wooyoung's lips again, deeper this time, letting all the pent-up longing and desire flow into the kiss. His hands roamed, exploring the lines of Wooyoung's back, the warmth of his skin through his shirt, as they moved together toward the bed, San pushing Wooyoung down to a seated position on the edge of the bed.

"Young'ah, I need you, but first I want you to taste me, will you do that babe?" He looked down at Wooyoung, who was already staring at San's large bulge in his pants.

Wooyoung moved to palm San's cock, but soon decided he needed more skin contact. San understanding what Wooyoung needed, pulled away his belt and shucked off his pants as quickly as he could. His boxer briefs straining towards Wooyoung's face, already anticipating the heaven that would be Wooyoung's mouth.

Wooyoung looked up at San, while slowly pulling down his briefs, the achingly slow brush of the fabric against San's cock was maddening.

"Young'ah, please..." San growled. Wooyoung enjoying the slow torture. However, he leaned forward and began to gently pull San's weeping tip into his mouth, licking and using his lips to stimulate his head in a way that drove San wild. It took all his restraint not to thrust into Wooyoung's mouth.

"You are such a tease," San panted. Wooyoung suddenly sucked harder, and took San all the way into his mouth until San could feel the ridge of the back of his throat. His mind went blank, just completely engulfed in sensation.

Wooyoung kept working him, sucking hard, using his tongue to cup the bottom of his shaft and hummed against him as he continued to deep throat San.

"Wooyoungie, I want you. All of you, now!" San pushed back from the edge of the bed, and out of Wooyoung's mouth, "I need all of you, Woo, I need you under me, begging me to fill you. Can you do that for me babe."

Wooyoung had a mix of shock and desire on his face. He knew San had a strong, quiet side, but this strength in the bedroom was incredibly sexy. He complied immediately. Pulling his shirt over his head, and divesting his pants and boxers next.

"Come get me, handsome," Wooyoung teased, while scooting himself onto the bed.

San wasted no time, and lowered himself down on top of Wooyoung, with his body between Wooyoung's sexy muscular thighs.

"Be careful what you wish for Woo," San took both of Wooyoung's hands in his and pinned them above his head, while plundering his mouth again.

Wooyoung began arching into San, seeking friction, more contact of their bodies. He was stunning, lips swollen, hands immobile. San couldn't wait anymore. He transferred both of Wooyoung's wrists to his left hand, and put his right two fingers in front of Wooyoung's mouth.

"Suck." He demanded gruffly. Wooyoung complied, his eyes unfocused, completely pliant to whatever San had planned.

San began to gently massage his rim, slowly working a finger in, pumping slowly, tortuously. Wooyoung was whimpering, trying to get more stimulation, but San kept hold of his wrists maintaining control over his movements, as he added another finger, stretching and making sure Wooyoung was ready.

When San was sure he was ready, he pulled back, letting go of Wooyoung's wrists so he could pull Wooyoung up under his thighs, to position him to be able to take San fully.

San slowly began to sink into Wooyoung's tight hole. He felt divine, so tight, warm, perfect. San had never experienced anything so incredible. He began to push in earnest, until he had bottomed out, then stayed for a moment, savoring the sensation of finally being one with this man who was everything to him. He needed more, he needed to move. He began to move, thrusting in, hitting Wooyoung's prostate repeatedly. San shifted moving Wooyoung's feet to his shoulders so he could get even deeper. Wooyoung moaning and chanting, "yes, more, yes, there, oh fuck San!" driving San crazier.

San had been holding Wooyoung's thighs, but he reached down and began to stroke Wooyoung's cock, wanting to make him feel good too. Wooyoung began panting, "San, God, San, I'm so close, fuck, I'm gonna.."

San pushed him even harder, getting closer to his climax as well, but holding out, wanting to make Woo cum first. He could feel Wooyoung was right on the edge, so he gave him a little push. "God, Young-ah, you take my cock so well, you're such a good little slut, aren't you?"

That was all it took for Wooyoung to fly over the edge, cumming in San's hand and tightly pulsing over San's cock, driving San over the edge as well.

San saw stars as his climax hit, cumming deep inside of Wooyoung as he continued to pulse around San. He felt like he was floating out of his body. The strength of his orgasm was profound, and in that moment he realized he never wanted to be with anyone else. Wooyoung was it for him.

As he gently pulled back from Wooyoung, he shifted to cradle Woo in his arms, and spoon him gently, he kissed his neck and whispered. "You are so incredible, Woo." He wanted to say more, but he didn't want to confess his deepest feelings moments after sex. He didn't want Wooyoung to think he was caught up in the emotions of their intimacy at that moment.

He was also nervous now about how rough he'd been. Wooyoung seemed to enjoy it, but he had gone harder than he'd meant to. It just felt so incredible, like two pieces fitting together so well. He had lost himself in the moment and taken control.

All he could do now was pamper his baby. Wooyoung was nearly asleep already, snuggled into the warmth of his bed. San's last thought before joining him in sleep was how lucky he was to have this incredible man in his life.

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains as San stretched, feeling a warmth beside him. Wooyoung lay on his side, eyes closed, breathing slow and steady, his hand tucked under his cheek in a way that made him look endearingly vulnerable. San couldn't help the small smile that crept onto his face as he watched him. It was hard to believe that the man who'd waltzed into his exhibition with all the confidence in the world now lay beside him, looking soft and peaceful.

When Wooyoung's eyes fluttered open, he caught San's gaze and smiled sleepily. "Morning," he murmured, his voice low and inviting.

"Morning," San replied, his tone still shy, but his hand found its way to Wooyoung's shoulder, brushing his thumb along his collarbone. "Sleep okay?"

"Better than okay," Wooyoung sighed, leaning into San's touch, his face warming. He looked up at him with a shy grin, tucking his chin a bit as he said, "Feels like I could get used to this."

San's smile faltered slightly as he hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "Me too...though, I, um... well, I know I can be a bit much." He chuckled softly, shifting his gaze to the ceiling, embarrassed. "Last night, I might've come on a little strong. Sometimes I worry I'm too...intense."

Wooyoung tilted his head, eyes sparkling with amusement and a hint of mischief. "Too intense?" he repeated, a small smirk forming on his lips. "San, I don't think you understand just how much I liked that."

San's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really? I mean, you just always seem so... confident. I thought maybe I should tone it down, so I didn't... you know, overwhelm you."

Wooyoung bit his lip, looking adorably shy for the first time since San had met him. "Confident, sure," he said, his cheeks flushing pink, "but when it comes to relationships, I kind of like... being taken care of." His voice softened as he looked away, clearly feeling a bit vulnerable. "I like a man who can take charge, who makes me feel wanted."

San felt a pleasant shock run through him at Wooyoung's words. A slow smile spread across his face, his eyes darkening just slightly with understanding. "You mean you like a man who's... dominant?" he asked, his voice dropping lower, testing the waters.

Wooyoung's blush deepened, and he nodded, his gaze flickering down before he looked up through his lashes. "Yeah," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "Someone who knows what he wants."

San couldn't help himself; he let out a small, amused chuckle, feeling his confidence rise. "You could've told me sooner," he teased, his hand sliding down Wooyoung's arm. "Here I was, worried I'd scare you off."

Wooyoung smiled, finally relaxing as he leaned into San's touch, letting himself melt into it. "Guess I was afraid you'd think I was silly... I know I put on a good front, but with you, it's different. I like that you can handle me."

San looked at him, his expression softening. "I like that you let me," he murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from Wooyoung's face. "With you, I feel like I can be myself... I don't have to hold back. But you'll tell me if it's too much, right?"

Wooyoung nodded, his eyes meeting San's with a look of pure trust. "Always," he promised, his fingers tracing small circles on San's hand. "Just... don't ever stop being you. I like that side of you, the side that knows what he wants. It's really sexy and it's one of the things I admire most."

San's heart swelled at the words, and he felt the lingering insecurities he'd been carrying about himself melt away, replaced by a calm confidence. They lay there together for a long while, their silence filled with a newfound understanding, basking in the warmth and safety they found in each other.

~~

A strong San who knows what he wants. - yummy!

Also, Woo is the cutest babygirl ever. <3

xo

Chapter Text

As the days rolled on, San and Wooyoung fell into a new rhythm, one filled with shared glances, lingering touches, and constant, lighthearted banter. It was like they were living in their own bubble, and for once, San didn't mind that his focus had shifted away from his work a not and more towards making time for Wooyoung. Every little interaction between them seemed to brighten his day, and Wooyoung seemed to be thriving just as much, his laughter ringing out more often than ever.

San was in his kitchen one morning, cooking breakfast, when he felt Wooyoung's presence before he even saw him. Wooyoung padded up behind him, wrapping his arms around San's waist and leaning his head on San's shoulder, his voice playful.

"Mmm, something smells good," Wooyoung murmured, nuzzling into San's neck. "Is it breakfast... or just you?" He asked trailing kisses in a pattern down San's neck to where it met his shoulder.

San laughed, turning his head slightly to catch Wooyoung's lips. Then pulling back gently he replied,"It's definitely breakfast, but I'm glad you think I smell good too," he teased, nudging him gently. "You ready for another day of eating me out of house and home?"

Wooyoung smirked, tightening his arms around San's waist. "Oh, I'm ready for anything you'll give me," he replied, his voice mischievous. "Though... I can think of a few things I'd like to eat out for breakfast."

San's cheeks flushed, still not used to how candid Wooyoung was about what he wanted. Covering his blush quickly he responded, raising an eyebrow. "Careful what you wish for," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "You're the one who's always hungry, but I've got a pretty good appetite, too."

Wooyoung chuckled, clearly enjoying the flustered look on San's face, and leaned in close. "Noted," he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to San's cheek before stepping back, leaving San to finish breakfast.

As they sat down at the small table in San's apartment, Wooyoung began picking at his food, watching San with a content smile. "I still can't believe how good you are at this whole 'taking care of me' thing," he said, his tone soft but filled with admiration.

San shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I mean, someone has to make sure you're eating properly," he replied, but his heart swelled at Wooyoung's words. "Besides, I like... I like taking care of you. You are my baby, and I want to make sure you are happy. You are easy to love, It feels natural."

Wooyoung's eyes softened, and he reached across the table to squeeze San's hand. "Well, you're doing a damn good job," he whispered, a shy smile playing at his lips. He was fully giving babygirl energy this morning and San was loving it.

After breakfast, they both settled into their routines. Wooyoung brought his laptop over to the couch, working on his latest article, while San prepared sketches for his next piece, occasionally glancing over to find Wooyoung tapping away, his brows furrowed in concentration.

Unable to resist, San tossed a crumpled-up napkin at Wooyoung's head, grinning when it hit its mark. Wooyoung's eyes widened in surprise, and he looked up with a playful glare.

"Really? You're going to throw things at me?" Wooyoung asked, arching an eyebrow, but his smile betrayed him.

"Just making sure you're still paying attention," San quipped, leaning back in his chair with an innocent look. "Don't want you getting too lost in your work, you know?"

Wooyoung's smirk turned devious. "Oh, I'm paying attention," he said, his eyes sparkling. "To you, mostly."

San's smile grew, and he rolled his eyes to play it off, but the way Wooyoung's gaze lingered on him made his pulse quicken. It was new for him—to be so openly admired, to have someone like Wooyoung look at him like he was something special. And it thrilled him in a way he hadn't expected.

That evening, they decided to stay in, curled up on the couch watching a movie. San was hardly paying attention to the screen, though; Wooyoung's head was resting on his shoulder, and he could feel every little shift, every breath.

Wooyoung glanced up at him, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "You know, if you keep looking at me like that, we'll never finish this movie," he teased, poking San lightly in the side.

San chuckled, tightening his arm around Wooyoung's shoulders. "You think I'm worried about the movie?" he replied, his voice dropping slightly, sending a shiver down Wooyoung's spine.Wooyoung flushed, trying to hide his smile as he settled back against San, nestling closer. "Fine by me," he murmured, closing his eyes and letting out a soft, content sigh.

San felt Wooyoung move, pulling San onto his lap. San was momentarily surprised, but the surprise gave way to arousal when Wooyoung's lips met him in a slow, teasing kiss.

"I want to try something, Sannie, but you can say no if you're uncomfortable." Wooyoung whispered between kisses.

"What do you want, baby?" San asked, pulling back to look into Wooyoung's eyes. Wooyoung was suddenly shy, but seemingly gathered his nerve to look up at San, "So, I probably should have said this earlier, but I'm a switch, and....I wondered...if you might..." He trailed off, gesturing toward his crotch to San's.

San might have laughed, had it not been such a vulnerable moment for Wooyoung. He knew it could be hard to ask for what you want from an intimate partner, and he was grateful that Wooyoung felt safe enough to broach the subject.

"Does my baby want to take the lead tonight?" He asked, cupping Wooyoung's chin and guiding his face up to look San in the eyes.

Wooyoung had turned very pink, but nodded slightly. "I need a yes, babe." San said still holding his chin.

"Y-yes, if you are ok with it." Wooyoung said in a rush.

San considered this a moment, he'd always been a top, that has always felt the most natural, but with Wooyoung, he was willing to try, to share himself in a way he never had with any of his previous lovers. "Yes, baby, let's try. I know you'll take good care of me." San replied.

The immediate smile on Wooyoung's face alleviated the last of the uncertainty for San. He meant what he said, he really did want to make Woo feel good, and he trusted him to make the experience good for him as well.

Wooyoung kissed him again deeply, while adjusting San gently off his lap and standing up off the couch, lacing his fingers in San's coaxing him to stand as well, as Wooyoung began to lead them to the bathroom.

"Let's start with a bath, ok jagiya?" Woo asked while starting the faucet.

"Sounds wonderful" said San, who then proceeded to strip off fully while Wooyoung was busy tending to the bath. When Wooyoung turned around his eye grew first wide, then blazing, a sudden flame of desire lit. His clothes shortly joined San's on the floor of the bathroom, while his lips found San's again. He pressed his body into San's, feeling the strength of his chest, his sculpted abs, and his large erection pushing into Wooyoung's belly, seeking contact and friction.

After a few more moments of full body contact and passionate kissing, the bath was ready, and San stepped in, helping Wooyoung into the bath.

"I know you are in charge tonight, but I can't help but take care of you. I could never let you fall." San smiled sheepishly, truly meaning it.

Wooyoung settled into one side of the tub, pulling San so his back was to Wooyoung's chest. He began washing and stroking San's chest, arms, shoulders. Moving slowly down to his ribs, stomach, and then taking firm hold of San's erection, began to gently pump up and down under the water. San let his head fall back on to Wooyoung's shoulder and just feel.

Wooyoung was stroking him slowly, sending wave after wave of pleasure through him, but not moving quickly enough to risk San becoming too aroused. He was enjoying just savoring the warmth of the water, the firmness of Wooyoung's chest, the feel of his erection pressing into San's lower back, a promise of what was to come.

A few more moments, as sweet intimate touches in the bath, and they rose, stepping out and draining the water away. As they toweled each other off, using the water as an excuse to touch all over each other's bodies.

Wooyoung had seemed perfectly in control up until this point, but as their lips met again, San could feel his hunger, the urgency, the desire. Wooyoung began to gently push on San's stomach, walking him backwards out of the bathroom, into the bedroom, only stopping when the back of San's legs hit the bed. Wooyoung carefully guided him down until he was prone on the bed, scooting up so his whole body was laid out for Wooyoung to admire and have his way with.

San found a thrill run through his body at that thought. Wooyoung had grabbed some stuff from his nightstand, and was now positioning himself between San's legs, stroking up and down his thighs, and lightly, teasingly brushing past San's erection, which was straining upwards towards his belly.

"I'll start slow, I know you're new to bottoming." Wooyoung said in a reverent tone as he gently began to drag his thumb over San's rim. The sensation was new, but not all together unpleasant.

San dropped his head back on the pillow and focused on relaxing into the sensations. As Wooyoung began to gently probe with one finger into San, he felt the stretch, the slight burn. It was a bit uncomfortable, but he was slowly getting used to it.

"That's it jagi, just keep relaxing." Wooyoung cooed at him, encouraging him, and praising him as he continued to work the finger further into San. Wooyoung hit the bundle of nerves inside, and San inhaled sharply, the burst of pleasure was incredible. His hand wandered down to his cock to stroke it in time with Wooyoung's finger.

"Don't you dare," Wooyoung scolded him. "that's for me." He continued stretching and working in and out of San, while using his other hand to stroke San's cock. The dual stimulation for San was incredible. He was awash in sensation and waves of arousal.

Wooyoung slowly added a second finger into San, while his erection wasn't as large as San's, it was still a snug fit, and he wanted to be sure San was fully stretched and ready for him.

San had begun arching into Wooyoung's hands in an effort to increase speed and friction.

"Slow down San-ah, be patient, it's about to be so much better." Wooyoung breathed, as he withdrew his fingers, and poured a generous amount of lube on his cock.

"Are you ready?" Woo asked, "Yes.." San answered, "I want you Young-ah."

That was all the encouragement Wooyoung needed, he began to push against San, entering him slowly at first, letting San adjust to the new sensations, feelings, and his size.

San let out a groan, reaching to pull Wooyoung closer. "You are so big, you fill me up Young-ah."

Wooyoung positioned himself over San, so he could connect their mouths, while still slowly thrusting, a bit more each time as he entered San further.

San began to meet his thrusts with his hips, seeking more, faster. Wooyoung could tell when he bottomed out, hitting San's prostate, as San began to moan louder, words of encouragement in with the 'oh god' and 'yes right there'.

San was so tight, Wooyoung wanted to make sure San felt good, but he was struggling not to thrust into him harder, deeper, burying himself to the hilt. He began to thrust against San harder, while caressing his chest, brushing over San's nipples, up his neck, before back down to lift San's thigh to position himself to be able to go even deeper.

"God, San, you are incredible, I don't know how long I'll last, you are just perfect." Wooyoung said between thrusts. San was a mess under him, it was so attractive. His hair was everywhere on the pillow, his eyes dilated, with tears filling them. His mouth was gapped slightly, and his lips were swollen and kiss bitten. He looked so sexy. Wooyoung knew he was losing the battle with his restraint.

"San-ah, are you close? I'm not sure how much longer I can hold back, babe. You feel too good." Wooyoung ground out while picking up the pace of his thrusts. The new angle driving him wild.

"Jagi, it feels so good, I never want it to stop, but I....nnngggghh..." San came then suddenly, white ropes painting his stomach. He had been trying to hold back, but the way Wooyoung was abusing his prostate made him lose control. Wooyoung feeling San's climax lost the battle and with a few more sloppy thrusts, came deep in San, coating his insides with his release.

He felt like his arms were jelly, so he carefully lowered himself onto San, just reveling in the space of their shared ecstasy together. It was only later he realized that he had laid right in San's release, and they were now both covered. As he gently pulled back, and out of San, laughing at his mess, he scooted off the bed to grab something to clean them both up.

He came back with a washcloth, wanting to make sure he took good care of San, and made sure he was ok. San's eyes were closed, and he seemed to be breathing deeply. "San-ah, are you good?" Woo inquired softly. San opened his eyes a bit and said. "Young-ah, that was amazing. I wasn't sure if I would enjoy it, but,...wow, it was...I don't have words." he sighed, the exhaustion taking over.

Wooyoung smiled at how sweet San looked in his bed, exhausted and well loved. He claimed back into the bed, and snuggled into San's arms as he began to drift off to sleep.

For San, some of his last waking thoughts were that he loved making love to Woo. Plus the small moments—the simple, quiet routines filled with stolen kisses and shy smiles—were more fulfilling than he could have ever imagined. It wasn't just physical, it was mental, emotional. He was falling hard for Wooyoung. They didn't need grand gestures or declarations; this was enough. And in that moment, as they lay together in the soft glow of the evening, San realized just how much he had come to cherish this honeymoon stage, hoping it would last forever.

Chapter Text

San sat in his studio, a blank canvas in front of him, and for the first time that he could remember, he felt both eager and terrified to start. His fingers itched to move, to create something new, something real, but as he stood there, his thoughts drifted to Wooyoung. Every memory, every shared smile and whispered word, flooded his mind. His heart swelled with feelings he hadn't dared to fully acknowledge yet, emotions so raw and powerful that they almost frightened him.

He picked up a brush, his hand hovering over the canvas, and took a deep breath. This is for him, he thought, and with that, he let go, dipping the brush into deep, rich hues, capturing the warmth and tenderness he felt whenever he looked at Wooyoung.

With every stroke, the colors took shape—a gentle curve here, a playful line there. He didn't hold back, letting his emotions guide his hand, pouring every ounce of his love and admiration onto the canvas. This piece was different from anything he'd ever done before; it was softer, layered with colors he rarely used, vibrant yet subdued, as if it held secrets meant only for those who looked closely enough.

Hours passed, and by the time he stepped back to look at his work, San felt a strange mix of pride and vulnerability. The painting was unmistakably Wooyoung, or rather, his essence—a blend of warmth, joy, and mystery. San's heart beat wildly in his chest as he realized how deeply his feelings had influenced his art.

He set the brush down, exhaling shakily as he stared at the piece. This painting was his confession. He had painted Wooyoung not just as he appeared, but as he existed in his heart, each brushstroke a silent declaration of love. And now, looking at it, San felt both proud and incredibly exposed.

"San?" Wooyoung's voice echoed from the doorway, pulling him from his thoughts.

San turned to find Wooyoung standing there, a curious smile on his face as he took in the sight of San, covered in paint, standing beside his newest work. Wooyoung stepped closer, his gaze shifting to the canvas, and his eyes widened as he studied it. "Did... did you paint this today?"

San swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "Yeah, I... I just started, and it sort of... happened," he replied, his voice barely a whisper.

Wooyoung's gaze remained fixed on the painting, his fingers brushing over his lips as if trying to hold back a smile. "It's beautiful, San," he murmured. "It feels... it feels like me. Like you painted me, but not just me. It's like you captured... everything."

San's heart pounded as Wooyoung's words sank in. He took a shaky breath, his hands clenching at his sides as he tried to gather the courage to speak. "I... there's a reason it looks like that, Wooyoung. I painted it because... well, because it's how I see you. It's... what you mean to me."

Wooyoung turned to him, eyes wide with surprise and warmth, and San felt himself inch closer, his heart racing. He could barely look at him without his pulse quickening. "You... you mean a lot to me, Wooyoung. More than I ever expected anyone could."

The silence stretched between them, thick with tension and unsaid words. Wooyoung's gaze softened, and he reached out, placing a gentle hand on San's arm. "You can tell me, you know. Whatever you're feeling."

San's chest tightened, and he knew this was his moment. The fear of rejection clashed with the overwhelming need to be honest, to finally let Wooyoung see everything he was feeling. He took a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. "I... I think, no...I know that I'm in love with you, Wooyoung. I know it's soon, and it scares me to admit it, but it's the truth."

Wooyoung's face lit up, a gentle, heartfelt smile spreading across his lips. He took a step closer, slipping his hand into San's and squeezing it gently. "San," he whispered, his voice filled with a warmth that made San's heart ache. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear that, it's not too soon when it's real."

San's relief was instant, the weight of his unspoken feelings lifting as Wooyoung pulled him into a soft embrace. He held him tightly, as if afraid that letting go might break the moment. "You don't have to be scared," Wooyoung murmured against his shoulder. "I'm here, and I feel the same way, I love you too."

They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, surrounded by San's art and the quiet promise of something new. San had never felt so vulnerable, so exposed, yet so incredibly safe all at once.

Finally, Wooyoung pulled back, looking up at him with a playful smile. "So... does this mean I get to be your muse from now on?"

San chuckled, the sound laced with a mixture of joy and disbelief. "You've always been my muse," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Wooyoung's forehead. "I just didn't realize it until now."

Wooyoung smiled up at him, his hand resting on San's cheek, thumb brushing gently along his cheekbone. "So... does that mean I get to see this softer side of you more often?" he asked, his voice low and teasing, but his gaze tender.

San chuckled, a warmth settling over him as he pulled Wooyoung closer, wrapping his arms around his waist. "Only if you promise to stick around," he murmured, pressing a light kiss to Wooyoung's forehead. "I might need a little help keeping this side of me out in the open."

Wooyoung's eyes softened, and he tilted his head up, lips brushing against San's in a gentle kiss. It was soft at first, their lips meeting in a tentative exploration of everything left unsaid. But the connection between them, the love that had been quietly building, spilled over, drawing them deeper. Wooyoung's hand slipped around San's neck, pulling him closer, and San felt himself melt into the warmth of his embrace.

They lost themselves in the kiss, the studio around them unimportant as their focus narrowed to just each other. San's hands found Wooyoung's waist, steadying him as the kiss grew more intense, more urgent. His fingers slipped under the hem of Wooyoung's shirt, dancing along his waistband, his touch slow and careful, savoring every inch of him.

Wooyoung shivered under San's hands, his own fingers tangling in San's hair as he deepened the kiss, their bodies pressed together, fitting perfectly as if they'd always belonged this way. He pulled back just slightly, his breath warm against San's cheek. "So... this is what it's like being loved by an artist," he murmured, his voice laced with affection and wonder.

San laughed softly, pressing a line of gentle kisses along Wooyoung's jaw. "I think I might just have to paint you again after this," he whispered, his voice filled with promise. "You have no idea how much you inspire me."

They held each other in the quiet of the studio, the soft light casting shadows across the walls, every touch and whispered word building a memory they'd both carry. As the moment grew more intense, their hands explored, their touches growing bolder, more confident. They drifted slowly to the small couch by the window, hands entwined, each movement a silent affirmation of everything they felt but hadn't been able to say.

San gently began removing Wooyoung's clothing, slowly, with a reverence that touched Wooyoung, as though he were sacred, a treasure. Wooyoung let himself be undressed, while reaching out to help San with his layers as well. They stood together both naked admiring one another, and the moment. Wooyoung knew this time would be different. This time they would be making love.

He leaned in to fully press his chest into San's, and captured his lips in a soft, intimate kiss, pouring all his feelings into this kiss. His hands wrapped around San's muscular shoulders, while San grabbed the back of his thighs, and motioned for him to hop up, wrapping Woo's legs around his waist as they continued to keep their mouths connected. San carried Wooyoung over to the corner of his studio where he had a small loveseat. He sat down gently, pulling Wooyoung flush into his body. He could feel Wooyoung's anticipation, and need.

He pulled back a moment and sucked on two of his fingers, before reaching behind Wooyoung to graze over his rim. Gently he began to work a finger into Woo, then a second, making sure he was ready to take San's cock.

"Please, San, make love to me, I need you so badly." Wooyoung pleaded in San's ear.

He complied, gently assisting Woo in settling down over his cock and slowly breaching Wooyoung's tightness, feeling his walls squeeze tightly around his erection.

Wooyoung felt like heaven, San wished he could stay like this forever, moving gently, thrusting slowly and deliberately. He had just started to thrust against Wooyoung's pleasure center, when Wooyoung took over, picking up the pace significantly, and began riding San mercilessly.

"Baby, just take what you need, you feel so good." San ground out, as he tried to prolong this feeling. He was fighting off the need to thrust back hard, to chase his climax, but the pleasure was so intense, so good, he slowed himself down so he would enjoy it longer. Wooyoung was getting close, his eyes no longer fixed, unshed tears in the corners, from the pleasure and the need. He looked magnificent.

San wanted to remember how he looked in this moment forever. he wanted to try to paint the feeling of this moment. No sooner had he had that thought, then he felt Wooyoung begin to climax, a warmth hitting San's lower abdomen as he continued his steady thrusts, made more challenging by the sheer force of Wooyoung's orgasm.

San thrust faster, and a bit harder, aware that Wooyoung was likely more sensitive, but while he made sure to help Wooyoung ride out the last of his orgasm, his release came flowing out of his with a force he'd never experienced. His orgasm was surprising in its force and he could feel himself coming deeply in Wooyoung, his release spurting in wave after wave until he didn't think it was possible to release anymore.

His vision was starry for a moment, and he was glad he was seated, because he couldn't feel most of his extremities. There was no way to describe the force or feeling of the connection to Wooyoung he felt as they hit their peak together. All he knew is that he wanted to do that with Wooyoung for the rest of his life.

---

Afterward, they lay together, tangled in each other's arms, a comfortable silence settling over them. Wooyoung traced idle patterns on San's chest, his smile soft, content. "You know," he said after a while, his voice barely above a whisper, "I think I could get used to this. Being your muse, I mean. Being the reason you look at me like that."

San's heart swelled, and he pressed a kiss to the top of Wooyoung's head, his voice filled with a quiet certainty he hadn't felt before. "You'll always be my muse," he murmured. "I don't think I could ever look at you without feeling like this."

Wooyoung smiled, snuggling closer, his fingers tracing gentle circles over San's skin. "Then maybe I'll stick around. You know, just in case you need a little inspiration."

San laughed, the sound warm and light, his arms wrapping around Wooyoung as he pulled him close. "Then it's a deal. I'll keep painting, and you keep giving me reasons to. And if you're a really good boy, I'll throw in more of what we just did." He smiled to himself, as though there were any possibility he wouldn't make love to Wooyoung at every available opportunity.

They lay there, wrapped in each other, watching as the sunlight began to fade outside the studio window, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. And in that moment, San knew that this was just the beginning, that the love they'd found was only going to grow, filling his art and his life with a beauty he'd never known before.

The night drew in around them, but the studio felt alive with warmth, with promise. San finally gently picked Wooyoung up and carried him to the bedroom and laid himself next to Woo. His last thought before snuggling into his chest and wrapping his thigh over Wooyoung's leg as they drifted into a quiet, comfortable sleep together was how incredibly thankful he was for this life with Wooyoung.

~~

I think I've got about 2 chapters left loves. xox I've really enjoyed this journey with you. I appreciate all the reads, comments and love.

You all are amazing and make this worth all the sleepless nights trying to find exactly the right adjective or verb. Or trying to convey the right feeling for my vision of these two beautiful men :)

Chapter Text

The days following San's confession of his feelings felt like a beautiful dream he didn't want to wake up from. Every moment with Wooyoung was tinged with a newfound warmth, an intimacy that made the world seem softer, brighter. The tentative words had been spoken, but now came the exploration of what it meant to truly open themselves to each other.

One quiet evening, after a dinner spent exchanging stories and laughter, they returned to San's apartment. It had started raining, and the soft patter against the window set a cozy, intimate mood as they stepped inside. San flicked on a small lamp, casting a warm, golden glow around the room.

Wooyoung slipped off his shoes and made himself comfortable on the couch, pulling San down beside him. "You know, I don't think I'll ever get tired of this," he said, reaching over to brush a stray strand of hair from San's face.

San smiled, feeling a pleasant thrill at the simple, affectionate gesture. "Get tired of what?"

"Of us," Wooyoung replied, his voice soft. "Of being able to just... be with you."

San's heart warmed, and he reached over, taking Wooyoung's hand in his, fingers lacing together as he gently kissed the back of Wooyoung's hand. "I don't think I will either."

They sat there in silence for a moment, letting the quiet sink in, their hands still intertwined. Then, without another word, San leaned in, his lips finding Wooyoung's in a slow, tender kiss. Wooyoung sighed softly into the kiss, his hand coming up to cup San's cheek as he deepened it, the passion simmering just beneath the surface.

As they pulled away, San's eyes met Wooyoung's, a shy smile playing at his lips. "You know," he murmured, "I never imagined I'd find someone who made me feel like this. Like... like I could finally let go and just be myself. Someone who I can share my art with and being completely open with, and not feel scared. I know you'll accept me." San smiled, "It's an incredible feeling, and I'm so very lucky to have found you."

Wooyoung's gaze softened, and he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to San's forehead. "You don't ever have to hold back with me. I want all of you, San. Every layer. For the record I feel the same, I know you'll support me, and love me and keep me safe. I never want to be apart from you."

San's heart skipped a beat at the words, and he felt the last remnants of his walls start to crumble. His hand moved to Wooyoung's waist, pulling him closer as he whispered, "Then stay with me tonight. I don't want to spend another second apart."

Wooyoung's eyes lit up, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips as he slipped his arms around San's shoulders, leaning close until their noses brushed. "I was hoping you'd say that."

San felt a rush of warmth, the heat of their shared breath filling the space between them. Wooyoung's hands found their way into San's hair, tangling in the strands as he drew him into another kiss, this one deeper, more urgent. San's hands roamed over Wooyoung's back, his touch both gentle and possessive, as if he was committing every inch of him to memory.

They slowly made their way toward the bedroom, the journey interrupted by discarded clothing, laughter, stolen kisses, and gentle touches, as if each step was a promise, a testament to everything they were discovering together. By the time they reached the bed, both were naked, breathless, their eyes locked, a silent understanding passing between them.

San brushed his thumb over Wooyoung's cheek, his voice barely a whisper. "You have no idea how much you mean to me."

Wooyoung's hand found San's, squeezing it gently as he leaned in, his lips brushing San's ear. "Show me," he whispered, his voice filled with a vulnerability that made San's heart ache.

San's fingers traced along Wooyoung's jaw, tilting his head to meet his gaze. Their eyes locked, a moment of pure, unfiltered honesty passing between them, as San leaned in, pressing his lips to Wooyoung's in a kiss that was filled with everything he couldn't say aloud—the love, the desire, the sheer gratitude for having found someone who made him feel whole.

As they made love, San felt more complete than he ever had in his life before. As he and Wooyoung's bodies connected he felt like he was home. It was both exciting and familiar, Sensual, and sweet. He never wanted to be apart from Wooyoung again. He decided that he would tell him so, and ask him to move in with him. He wanted to get a jump start on their forever together. San couldn't wait!

Chapter Text

The weeks that followed were filled with small moments of discovery, each one deepening the connection between San and Wooyoung. Every morning felt like the beginning of something beautiful, and each night a quiet affirmation of their shared love. It was as if the world had shifted, leaving them in a shared orbit, tied together by a bond neither of them could fully explain but both trusted with their whole hearts.

One crisp autumn evening, after a quiet dinner at Wooyoung's, they decided to take a stroll through the small neighborhood park. The air was cool, the trees painted in rich shades of red and gold, and the sound of their laughter echoed in the stillness. San found himself glancing at Wooyoung, marveling at how simply being together brought him a sense of peace he had never known before.

As they reached a bench under a large oak tree, Wooyoung tugged on San's hand, pulling him down beside him. He settled into San's arms, a contented sigh escaping his lips as he leaned his head on San's shoulder.

They sat in silence, just listening to the gentle rustling of leaves, until Wooyoung broke the quiet. "Have you thought about... what the future might look like?" he asked, his voice soft, almost shy.

San's chest tightened, a mixture of excitement and trepidation filling him. He turned, brushing his lips across Wooyoung's hair. "Every day," he admitted. "I think about all of it. About having you there... every step of the way."

Wooyoung looked up, his eyes reflecting a warmth that made San's heart ache. "I feel the same way, San. I want... this. You. Us. I don't need anything fancy or grand, just... this."

San smiled, his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of Wooyoung's hand. "So, you'd be okay if I asked you to move in with me? To share all the little, ordinary moments?"

Wooyoung's face broke into a grin, and he reached up, cupping San's cheek. "I'd be more than okay with that," he whispered, his eyes glistening with a happiness that took San's breath away.

They walked back to San's apartment, hand in hand, their future becoming more certain with each step. When they arrived, San held Wooyoung's hand a little longer than usual, pulling him close before unlocking the door. The warmth of the apartment welcomed them, and they moved inside, the weight of their unspoken promise settling between them.

San wrapped his arms around Wooyoung from behind, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder. "I'm not sure how I got so lucky," he murmured. "But I'm grateful every day."

Wooyoung turned in his arms, his eyes bright with emotion. "San, it's you who taught me what it means to love and be loved. You showed me that I could be myself, and that was enough. I'm lucky too."

Their lips met in a kiss that was soft but filled with every unspoken word, every unguarded feeling they shared. San felt the warmth of Wooyoung's hands on his neck, pulling him closer, and he responded, wrapping his arms around Wooyoung's waist and pressing him gently against the wall.

San scooped up Wooyoung in his arms and took him to what would soon be their shared bedroom and showed him how much he loves him. He worshipped his body, and soothed his soul. They made love together safe in the knowledge of the others feelings and their shared future together.

After as they lay tangled in each other's arms, the quiet glow of the evening settling over them like a blanket. Wooyoung's fingers traced idle patterns along San's arm, a peaceful smile on his face. "We really did this, didn't we?" he whispered, as if marveling at the journey they'd shared.

San nodded, brushing a soft kiss to Wooyoung's forehead. "Yeah, we did. And I don't want it to end. I want to keep building this with you."

Wooyoung smiled, shifting to look into San's eyes. "Then let's build it. Together. Let's make a life that's ours."

San's heart swelled at the words, and he couldn't hold back the smile that spread across his face. "I'm in," he murmured, pulling Wooyoung close, savoring the warmth of their connection.

They started making plans in the next weeks—small, simple ones that reflected the life they wanted to create. They picked out a few plants to fill the sunny spots in San's apartment, turning it into a space that felt like their shared sanctuary. They began talking about San's next exhibition, with Wooyoung suggesting an idea for a series that combined his artwork with Wooyoung's writing, merging their passions into something uniquely theirs.

One weekend, as they lay on a blanket in the park, San looked at Wooyoung, a sudden wave of gratitude washing over him. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he murmured, lacing his fingers with Wooyoung's.

Wooyoung smiled, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to San's cheek. "Lucky for you, you won't have to find out. You'll never get rid of me now." He chuckled.

They sat there, wrapped up in each other, knowing they were on the cusp of something beautiful. The future might be uncertain for some, but for San and Wooyoung, it didn't matter. They had each other, their art, and their love - that was more than enough.

The End!

~~~~

Wow, ok, so I'm sad. This was my first book that I started on AO3, I just had a tiny seed of an idea, and it became a whole book. Thank you all who've supported, voted, commented and shared this story. I appreciate it so very much. This community is such a great place to practice and build wiring skills and I appreciate all the support and kind words!
xo

ps. I re-read the last two chapters, and I want to add a bit more, so there may be an update in the near future. <3