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The first time Wonwoo really noticed him—beyong the raucous laughing that rang through the corridos—was on a Thursday afternoon in the library. It was unusual to find the school's golden boy anywhere near a book, yet there he was, huddled behind the literary department, murmuring in anguish.
Lee Chan, the school’s football team captain. He was the school’s star athlete and the personification of the classic high school jock. Though he was petite and fairly muscular, he carried himself with effortless confidence, making him the focus of attention wherever he went. With a strong jawline, a proud smile, and a letterman jacket normally draped over his shoulders, he appeared like he had just stepped out of a sports movie.
He was popular, well-liked (or feared, depending on who you ask), and often surrounded by his teammates and a group of adoring fans.
His world revolved around football, Sunday night games, and the dream of getting recruited for a college team. Whether he’s destined for greatness or peaking in high school, one thing’s for sure—on game night, under those stadium lights, he’s the king of the school. At least that’s what everyone else says, because Wonwoo would only go to an event like a school match if he was punished for losing a bet.
However, if asked, Wonwoo would describe the boy similarly. Of course, he would make sure to avoid mentioning about how pretty the captain actually was, with the fluffiest hair and the slimmest waist. Wonwoo constantly questioned why others found him intimidating, he looked like a newborn puppy trying to bark. Nevertheless, his haughty behavior and attitude disqualified him from being Wonwoo's possible crush.
Wonwoo saw him as one of those people he didn't want to associate with in college; the popular kids, who were still with a highschool mindset. The type who would welcome you in their friendgroup but use you as their slave, mock you but pretend they’re your best friends and pressure you into things you don't want.
Meanwhile, in the present, as Wonwoo strolled between shelves, the said quiet grunts of a gentle voice caused him to halt and end up where the team's captain was, tiptoeing while attempting to grasp a.. book? Huh, who would have thought.
Chan wasn’t supposed to be there. The school library was filled with the musty scent of old books, the faint hum of a few overhead lights buzzing, and the sound of quiet whispers between students trying to study. It was a place of solitude, not for someone like him.
Wonwoo shrugged. He approached the boy with his typical nonchalant demeanor, masking his amazement - delight - at finding Chan at the library, much less reaching for a book.
"Ugh, seriously?" Chan muttered under his breath, stretching his fingers, trying to pull the book down from its perch. He seemed to be just a bit too short for the book he was looking for, stretching his body as much it could be stretched before his ribs could break. Wasn’t he supposed to be effortlessly cool? Not to appear like a baby giraffe trying to reach for leaves from a tree. Wonwoo chuckled, staring at Chan’s adorable tippy toes.
Chan froze. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of someone watching him embarrassing himself. He did not want to turn around. Unfortunately, he had to. So, he did, and he ended up seeing Wonwoo, standing a few feet away, arms casually folded, an eyebrow raised. He didn’t look surprised, but his expression was curious, maybe even a little amused.
Wonwoo was waiting for Chan to make an ignorant and nasty remark, to scoff and shoulder his way past him.
“I, uh, need that book," Chan stammered, instead, trying to regain his composure. “I can reach it. I just… can’t seem to—uh—yeah." Was he trying to explain himself to Wonwoo? How cute.
Wonwoo didn’t mock. He didn’t even look like he was about to make a sarcastic comment. Instead, his gaze flickered to the top shelf, then back to Chan. His lips twitched, forming an almost imperceptible smile, before he stepped forward.
"You want that one?" Wonwoo asked, tilting his head. Chan felt like he was being treated like a baby. He nodded, embarrassed, his face turning a little red. “Yeah, but it’s just… it’s kinda high up, you know?”
"I can help," Wonwoo offered with an easy smile, walking over and standing next to Chan. (God Damn, the height difference, Wonwoo bit his lip). Without even a second thought, Wonwoo reached up, effortlessly grabbing the book from the shelf.
Chan was a little in awe. How did he make it look so easy?
"Here." Wonwoo handed the book to him, a little glint of curiosity in his eyes.
Chan hesitated for a moment before taking it, still a little unsure of how to handle the situation. “Thank you” he offered a shy smile. For a brief second, his fingers brushed against Wonwoo’s as he took ahold of the book. It was warm.
Wonwoo simply nodded, knowing that if he were to open his mouth, he would stutter.
He then left the boy there, seeking for a seat where he could study, which was why he had gone to the library in the first place.
Finding an empty spot wasn’t easy, visiting the library for anything had become a trend lately and Wonwoo’s safe space had been invaded. However, he wasn’t about to let his stupid classmates ruin his favourite part of the day. He found the perfect table at the far rear of the building, where the lighting was perfect and the silence was silencing.
He sat in a random chair, placing his bag and jacket on the one next to him.He let out a deep sigh, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.
The moment was ruined when he felt a tap on his shoulder. When he opened his eyes, he was greeted by a gleam of beauty and shyness - again.
“I’m so sorry but do you mind if I sit here? Everything else is occupied, I promise I won’t make any noise!” Now, why was the jock of the school panicking and basically begging like a puppy from Wonwoo to sit at a public library table?
Wonwoo had no words, not being able to comprehend if this was Chan in front of him or his clone, maybe he had a twin he wasn’t aware of?
“You know, I don’t own this table” Wonwoo replied, his voice deeper and harsher than he wanted. He couldn’t help but feel a tug in his heart when Chan's optimistic smile faded into an ashamed one. He scratched the back of his hot neck, whispering a “sorry” before taking a seat at the very corner of the table, next to the window.
Great. Wonwoo felt as if he had just scared away a puppy. He groaned in his head.
Whatever. He had already spent far too much time not studying.
-
The number of sighs that Wonwoo heaved on his way back home was unaccountable.
The last three hours that he spent during his time in the library had been a waste. He didn’t even complete half of what he had intended. He just couldn’t concentrate, not with Chan and his adorable concentrating face being there looking all pretty.
Wonwoo felt as if his whole world had been flipped upside down. What do you mean Lee Chan was reading? What do you mean he was reading the Song Of Achilles? Literature! Gay literature! How was he supposed to live knowing that information?
He knew Chan. Gosh, everyone knew Chan. He was too handsome to go unnoticed, his football skills were too advanced for only a freshman (to the point he became the captain during his first year; his first year!), and his flirting skills were too smooth for anyone to pass by him and not develop a crush.
Wonwoo believed he was the only one who had succeeded in avoiding being one of them. Sure, he was attracted to the boy. But he wasn’t charmed by him, quite the opposite; he was almost appalled by his arrogance.
So he couldn’t help but hate himself for being so astonished and enchanted by the captain today. His heart was basically doing all kinds of flips, making him feel uncomfortable and shifting the entire time at the library - that was why he had to cut his visit short.
It was because he was surprised, nothing more - he tried convincing himself. Just because he can read doesn’t mean he isn’t rude or a jerk. Raise your fucking standards! Wonwoo kept scolding himself till it was time for bed, trying hard not to make up any scenarios involving a certain someone. Stupid!
The surprises kept coming, much to Wonwoo’s displeasure.
Chan had incorporated himself into Wonwoo's daily routine. Wonwoo resumed his usual habit of going to the library every day, and Chan just happened to be there during the three of those days; Tuesday, Wednesday and Sunday. Not that Wonwoo had noticed.
Chan had his own pattern; the times and days he stopped by were very specific, as were the novels he chose: Giovanni’s room, Death in Venice? It was as if he was playing with Wonwoo’s feelings, as if he was giving him a sign, screaming “Look at me, I’m gay!”
Wonwoo wasn't sure what to make of Chan anymore. Who was he actually? A cocky jock or a shy little nerd?
“Do you not have any homework?” Wonwoo asked one random day, surprising himself by saying his thoughts out loud. He really thought he’d finish college without exchanging a single word with Chan. Oh well, too late now.
Chan just looked at him. Suddenly, his cheeks became rosy. Why was Wonwoo making him feel so embarrassed? Wonwoo started to feel like a bully.
“Uh, I do. But I don’t really understand them. I prefer to spend my time reading books” Wonwoo tilted his head at the response. So, just because he could read literature didn’t imply he was academically gifted. Wonwoo snorted. Chan looked dismayed yet again.
Wonwoo hated himself, he could sense how small Chan felt while talking to him. If only he knew that the reason why Wonwoo was acting like that was because he found him cute. He couldn’t tell him that, though; it would boost his already high ego.
“I see. You seem to enjoy reading a lot” Chan perked up at that and nodded like an enthusiastic puppy. “I do! When I was little, I wanted to be a writer”
Chan continued to surprise him.
“What about now?” Wonwoo slid the books in front of him away without being too obvious, placing his palm under his chin and offering Chan all his attention. Chan seemed to shy away. Wonwoo smirked.
“Well, uh” Chan hesitated, “I still like to write but I have to pursue football, of course” he smiled timidly.
"Have to?" Wonwoo pointed out, raising an eyebrow. Chan appeared to be uncomfortable with the question, squirming in his chair. But he didn’t stop, he kept talking to Wonwoo, as if he wanted Wonwoo to know all these details about him. Chan seemed like he hadn’t told anyone else about them, as if no one had ever asked him before, and Wonwoo couldn’t help but smile during the entire conversation.
“I mean, I’ve been playing my whole life. My dad is a coach so I will probably find a team quickly after I graduate.” Wonwoo straightened his shoulders,
“You don’t seem like you want that, though.”
Chan’s eyes widened, taken aback. So, Wonwoo was right. Chan simply laughed awkwardly.
Wonwoo cleared his throat. “You still find time to come here, that’s good” he tried to keep the conversation going, keep it alive and comfortable.
Chan hummed, “Yeah, I come when I don’t have a match or have less practice.” Ah, that explains the specific days.
“What about you?” Chan wondered.
Wonwoo turned away, too intimidated by Chan’s eye contact.
“Yeah, I come here to study, or, well, just spend time. I just like the atmosphere, is all”. Chan nodded along, listening carefully. Wonwoo felt as if he couldn’t breathe. Chan’s eyes were large and round, like the soft, wide gaze of a doe in the quiet of the woods. Dark lashes framed them, curling slightly at the tips, drawing attention to the deep, expressive pools of brown that shimmered with curiosity.
All of a sudden, between coughs, Wonwoo asked, “Want me to help you with your homework?”
-
Wonwoo found himself looking forward to every tutoring session with Chan, not just because of the progress the younger made, but because of the time he got to spend with him. They were both enjoying the casual, natural talks they would have between lessons. And maybe, just maybe, those instances when their fingertips brushed or their gaze lingered a bit longer than required were not totally unintentional.
When Chan looked at him, it felt like he was fully present in the moment, his eyes absorbing every word Wonwoo spoke, every shift in his expression, with an intensity that made him feel naked. There was a softness to them, but also an eagerness, as if he was constantly willing to listen, learn, and connect.
Wonwoo sat at the small desk, reviewing the papers he'd been marking for the last several minutes, but his mind kept returning to Chan. The short, broad-shouldered jock was not what he had envisioned when they first began tutoring. Wonwoo was first unsure how things would go—Chan was quiet, almost painfully shy, and it took some time for him to open up. But, day by day, something had altered.
Wonwoo laughed internally. If he told all these to anyone else, they would call him a liar. Chan and shy in the same sentence?
Chan was so much more than the rough exterior he displayed to the world, however. He was unexpectedly kind to Wonwoo, too. When he thanked Wonwoo for his assistance, he spoke with a supple tenderness, and he listened to Wonwoo's explanations with genuine interest. It wasn't that Chan didn't struggle—math and chemistry weren't his natural abilities—but rather how he kept pushing forward, never giving up.
During a Monday afternoon, a day that didn’t have Chan’s name in Wonwoo’s calendar, the said football player walked in the library, his face even brighter than usually.
Wonwoo, shocked at the boy's presence, didn't have time to register what was happening, immediately noticing the change in his energy. Something was different, something significant.
“I, uh, I got it,” Chan said, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he was holding back his excitement.
Wonwoo lifted an eyebrow, curious, and smiled widely, despite the fact that he had no idea what Chan was talking about. "Got what?"
Chan paused for a second before pulling a crumpled piece of paper from his backpack. He opened it and revealed the exam results: an A.
Wonwoo's breath got locked in his throat. An A? He had to blink many times to grasp the scene in front of him. It wasn't just the grade, but all Chan had worked for. His progress, his persistence, and all the times spent studying with Wonwoo guiding him. And now it was in black and white, demonstrating Chan's growth.
Chan looked up, his gaze a little unsure, waiting for a reaction. Wonwoo was grinning deeper before he could stop himself.
"That's amazing, Chan!" he said, leaning forward on the desk and feeling a surge of pride. "You really did it."
Chan's lips twisted into a faint, hesitant smile before he unexpectedly stepped forward. Wonwoo hardly acknowledged the movement before Chan drew him into a tight, unexpected hug.
The warmth of Chan's small figure against his chest filled his mind with fog, and for a moment, Wonwoo was stuck, unsure what to do. But eventually it dawned on him. He wrapped his own arms around the boy, resting his head over Chan’s hair. He smelt so good; fruity, no signs of sweat or dirt and grass whatsoever.
“Thank you, hyung,” Chan mumbled in the older’s embrace. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Wonwoo’s heart skipped a beat, and he couldn’t help but smile into the hug. “You did all the hard work, Channie”
But as Chan pulled away, his face was flushed, eyes wide with embarrassment—probably realizing what he’d just done and what Wonwoo had just said. Wonwoo chuckled softly, trying to ease the tension, only then he himself realizing that the other had called him hyung.
-
Yet, when Wonwoo saw Chan out of the library, he was so so different.
Walking through the hallways with an arm around a girl, shoulders broader than ever and head looking up as he chewed on a gum loudly, high fiving his teammates as if he was the main character in a cringe-worthy movie.
Wonwoo would have rolled his eyes if it wasn’t Chan. This was the Chan the world was used to, stupid and cocky; a jerk. Yet, now that he had seen him behind all this act, Wonwoo couldn’t help but wonder; why was Chan allowing him, Wonwoo, out of everyone else to see behind this mask?
-
“I think you should become an actor” Wonwoo said once during their studying session, a chuckle leaving his lips.
Chan had asked for a break, watching the sky out of the window and spacing out after too many algebra exercises.
“What?” Chan questioned, brows furrowed as he turned to the older.
“You should become an actor” Wonwoo repeated, turning the pages and circling the ones he thought Chan would be able to complete alone; he smiled to himself when he realized that he had almost marked all of them.
“What do you mean?” Chan pondered; voice small like always when he was around Wonwoo.
“I just think you’d be a good actor. You play a good jock” Chan’s heart dropped. What was happening?
“What are you talking about?” Finally, Wonwoo turned to look right in Chan’s eyes. He was taken aback when he was met with hurt.
“I mean, you do know how different you act at school, right?” Wonwoo kept his voice calm, steady. This conversation was bound to happen anyway.“You don’t act this Chan,” he pointed at the said boy, “With anyone else” he continued.
Chan’s face hardened in a way Wonwoo rarely saw. He had only witnessed itduring the team’s final practice before an important game; not that Wonwoo would know, it’s not like he went there last week just to see Chan’s passionate side, all dirty and sweaty.
“So?” Chan’s voice came out quieter than intended. “Why does it matter?”
“Because I don’t know which one is real.” Wonwoo looked at him then, really looked. “Are you faking it at school, or are you faking it with me?”
Chan’s lips parted like he wanted to say something, but no words came out. Was Wonwoo being too much? It’s not like they were dating; they weren’t even friends. They didn’t know much about each other and they didn’t talk unless it was at the library, studying or making small talk.
Wonwoo sighed, tired with himself and his inability to express what he wanted in the right way and with the right words.
Chan’s voice cracked, and for the first time since Wonwoo had known him, Chan looked genuinely hurt. “You think I fake who I am around you?”
Wonwoo stayed quiet, watching as Chan’s fists clenched on his thighs.
“I—” Chan exhaled sharply. “I’m gonna go, now. Thanks for helping me” Chan didn’t dare looking at Wonwoo, gathering his stuff and throwing them in his bag clumsily.
Wonwoo blinked and Chan was already gone. He sighed, hitting his head on the desk. What had just happened?
-
For the next weeks, Chan didn’t show up at the library, let alone at their study dates.
Wonwoo felt horrible. Was he really that bad at feelings? At expressing himself? He wanted for Chan to like him, not to hate him. He wanted to compliment him, to praise him for learning so well and quickly and for being patient during their sessions no matter how much he hated maths. He wanted to tell him how happy he was during their little dates (they weren’t actual dates, he had to remind himself), how he anticipated for them every day, how he hated Mondays and Saturdays because he couldn’t see him. He wanted to thank him for showing him his real self, for trusting him.
Now, however, he felt as if he had shown Chan the exact opposite of what he wanted.
“Wonwoo, please come with us too!” Jun whined, sulking as he shook the boy’s arm. Wonwoo was then taken back to reality. “Come where?”
Jun death glared him, “At the party? The party at Seungcheol’s house? Bro, this is the only thing we’ve been talking about the whole day” He cried out, looking at Minghao for support.
“I mean, it could be fun” Joshua added, shrugging. Wonwoo raised a brow, since when was Joshua fond at the idea of a party? A house party full of cheerleaders and jocks?
Wait- jocks?
Wonwoo coughed, “Um, do we know who’s going to be there?” he asked, stirring the straw in his bottle to act all nonchalant.
“Literally the whole school! Come on guys! Josh, don’t you want to see Seokmin?” Jun pleaded with his best puppy eyes (they were good puppy eyes). Joshua and Wonwoo looked at each other before rolling their eyes.
Even if they were disgusted by the idea of sweat, alcohol and drugs, they agreed to Jun’s suggestion.
-
Choi Seungcheol’s house was the spot for Friday nights. He lived alone, he had graduated and his parents had bought the most massive house wide open for the biggest party of the year. Word spread fast—everyone who was anyone was going. Seungcheol was one of those people who peaked in college so it wasn’t a surprise to anyone that he tried to keep his reputation even after graduating.
By 9 PM, the place was packed. Red plastic cups were everywhere, music blasted from the massive speakers, and the backyard pool was already filled with people who definitely didn’t bring swimsuits.
Chan stood in the center of it all, tossing a football in one hand and flashing his perfect, overconfident grin at a group of cheerleaders. “Ladies, we all know who’s winning the championship game next week.”
“We know,” sighed Minyoung, the head cheerleader, flipping her perfect blonde hair. “You talk about it every day.” She still smiled at him, though, because he was Chan, and that’s just how things worked.
Across the room, Vernon, Chan’s right-hand guy, apparently, was attempting to shotgun a beer. He failed miserably, spilling half of it down his letterman jacket. “Brooo,” he groaned, while his fellow jocks roared with laughter.
In a quieter corner of the house, Wonwoo and his friends sat on the arm of a couch, Wonwoo absentmindedly swirling the soda in his cup. He wasn’t really into parties like this, obviously, but Chan was here. And he needed to apologize to him, needed to make up for his dumb behavior.
He watched as Chui, another cheerleader, placed a manicured hand on Chan’s arm, laughing at whatever he had just said. The easy way he grinned at her, the way he let her tug him closer—it made Wonwoo’s stomach twist. This was exactly what he was talking about. How could Chan do these things with such ease?
But Wonwoo wasn’t delusional. He knew Chan wasn’t his. But that didn’t stop the small, stupid part of him from wishing—just for a second—that he’d turn his head, scan the room, and notice him. That he would come running, he’d rest his head against Wonwoo’s chest and say that he had missed him, that he forgave him. The fact that he had lived Chan against his chest made this scenario a little more realistic and a lot more painful.
“Earth to Wonwoo,” a voice broke through his thoughts.
He blinked and turned to see Joshua, looking at him over his own cup of soda.
“You okay?” he asked, following his gaze. “Or just mentally setting Chan on fire?”
Wonwoo let out a small laugh. He didn’t know if Joshua meant that he could see Wonwoo’s love gaze towards Chan or he thought that Wonwoo was judging Chan and his team.
Just then, a commotion erupted in the kitchen.
Someone—probably Seungkwan, the overly aggressive running back—had decided that a game of beer pong wasn’t enough and challenged another guy to an arm-wrestling match. Things escalated quickly, and within seconds, a crowd had gathered, cheering them on like it was the Super Bowl.
In the backyard, Minyoung had managed to drag Chan away from his football talk. They were by the pool, the party lights casting a glow over them. They were closer to Wonwoo’s group of friends. So close that Wonwoo could hear everything if he tried.
“You know, Chan,” she said, twirling a strand of hair. “Sometimes I think you love football more than me.”
Chan blinked. “Wait, what?”
Before he could say anything else, Seokmin - seemingly tipsy - tripped over something and crashed into them. Minyoung shrieked as all three tumbled into the pool, sending water splashing everywhere.
The party exploded into laughter and cheers. Someone started chanting, “CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!” even though it made no sense in the situation.
Jun exhaled, shaking his head. “Classic.”
On the other hand, Joshua gasped, rushing over and giving a hand to Seokmin, who accepted it with an embarrassed smile.
Wonwoo stared at Chan. He had a deep frown on his face as he was being helped out of the water by Vernon. Once he was out, Chan made his way through the crowd.
“Bro this is crazy- Where you going?” Jun yelled from behind, Wonwoo already too far and too worried about Chan to listen. He followed the captain through the sea of people, elbowing and stepping on them in the process. Thankfully, Chan had gotten so wet that Wonwoo could just follow the droplets that fell from him.
Upstairs, where Chan seemed to be headed, the noise from the party dulled slightly, but it was still there—a distant hum behind closed doors. It matched with the beat of Wonwoo’s heart; fast and unsteady. The water line stopped behind a closed door of a bedroom.
Wonwoo hesitated, hand hovering over the handle, debating whether this was a good idea. Would Chan even want to talk to him?
Before he could overthink, he decided it was better to risk than regret it later and never talk to Chan again.
So, he opened the door.
He stopped in his tracks when he was met with a bare back
Chan turned around, flustered and startled, wide and glossy eyes looking back at Wonwoo.
Wonwoo stiffed, cursing himself for not knocking. “Uh, hey.”
Chan exhaled sharply through his nose, probably attempting to calm himself. He must have only then realized how he looked (skin shown, wet and illuminating), and blushed furiously, grabbing the shirt he had thrown on the floor and putting over his chest. He winced at the coldness of it from getting wet before.
Wonwoo wasn’t really thinking when he took off his black hoodie there and then, stepping forward and putting it over Chan’s head without a word said between them.
“Thank you” Chan said in the quietest tone. Wonwoo smiled gently, ruffling the younger’s hair which had become curly.
Wonwoo was taken aback yet again when Chan looked up at him, big doe eyes staring deeply into his soul, as if he could read right through him. “Did you come to check on me?” Chan asked, voice almost scared, like he didn’t want to be told otherwise.
“Yeah,” Wonwoo said simply, pleased at the burden that left the boy’s shoulders as he sighed in relief. “I wanted to see you and- and to apologize.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then, mumbled, Chan, “Is that really how you see me?”
Wonwoo’s chest tightened. “I didn’t mean it as a bad thing.”
Chan finally looked up, curious and expecting. “Then what did you mean?”
Wonwoo took Chan’s hand into his own, sitting them on the bed in the center of the room. There was space between them, but not much. Close enough that Wonwoo could see the way Chan’s fingers were fidgeting, picking at a loose thread on his jeans.
“I meant that you feel like you have to be a certain way around everyone else,” Wonwoo said carefully. “Like you have to be louder. Confident. The fun one. But when it’s just us… you don’t have to do any of that.”
Chan stayed silent.
Wonwoo stammered, then added, “And I like it. When it’s just us.”
Chan’s fingers stilled.
The tension in the room shifted, no longer sharp but something softer—uncertain. When Chan finally spoke, his voice was even more tender.
“It’s easier with you,” he admitted. “I don’t have to try so hard.”
Wonwoo turned his head slightly, watching him. “You don’t have to try at all.”
Chan exhaled, shaking his head at himself, but there was a small smile playing at his lips now.
Wonwoo huffed a quiet laugh as he watched Chan biting his bottom lip to hide his grin. His eyes drifted from Chan’s wet hair to his collarbones that were there for Wonwoo to see even under Wonwoo’s apparently too big of a hoodie. Fuck.
“Um,” Wonwoo suddenly shifted, crossing his legs and looking elsewhere.
Chan could feel the grip on their interlocked fingers becoming looser, more damp. Perplexed, he turned to face Wonwoo, only to find him fidgeting and sweaty. Wonwoo being nervous? That’s a first.
Oh.
Chan’s eyes followed Wonwoo’s body, finding the problem that caused the older’s discomfort right under his abdomen. Chan let out a small gasp, turning his scarlet face on the side and shutting his eyes. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.
“I-“
“I-“
They tried at the same time.
Chan risked a glance at Wonwoo and regretted it immediately. Wonwoo was watching him with that same quiet amusement. Chan’s stomach flipped.
This was unfair. He wasn’t built for this kind of attention.
His brain stopped working, his body stopped moving, his entire existence seemed to short-circuit all at once.
He felt his face get hotter, which should’ve been physically impossible at this point, but no—his body just kept making things worse. His breath was too shallow, his chest felt too tight, and he was suddenly convinced that if he opened his mouth, nothing would come out.
He was trapped.
Completely and utterly stuck in this awful, unbearable moment where Wonwoo was still looking at him—waiting, watching, knowing. And he thought about how ridiculous it was. Wonwoo was the one with a hard on, still holding his hand and making it wet from how sweaty he had become. So why was Chan the one who felt humiliated?
“I want-“ Chan tried again. Wonwoo let him. “I want to have sex with you”.
Chan you could not believe he had just said that. It seemed like Wonwoo couldn’t either because his face had never made such an expression, his eyes had never opened this much. Chan clasped his palms over his face, regretting his every decision.
Wonwoo could only laugh at the boy’s antics. How could he say such sensual things and then act this cute and innocent right after? He gripped Chan’s wrists gently, pulling them away from his face.
The space between them felt unbearably small.
Not just physically—though their knees were already brushing, their breaths mingling in the quiet—but in every other way that mattered. The air was charged, heavy with something unspoken, something waiting to tip over the edge.
Chan’s pulse pounded in his ears.
They were close enough that Wonwoo could see the way Chan’s pupils had blown wide, the way his lips parted just slightly, like he was waiting, like he was daring Wonwoo to move first. Like he was playing with him.
Chan’s breath caught, and his fingers curled into the fabric of his jeans. Wonwoo could feel the heat radiating from Chan’s body, the warmth of his skin where their hands nearly touched. It was too much and not enough all at once.
Wonwoo’s gaze flicked down—to Chan’s lips—and then back up again, dark and unreadable.
Chan swayed forward before he could stop himself.
That was all it took.
Wonwoo met him halfway, closing the distance, his lips brushing against Chan’s like a whisper—soft, slow, tentative.
Chan’s exhaled shakily, his fingers twitching before they found purchase against Wonwoo’s nape, his touch barely there. Wonwoo tilted his head, pressing closer, the kiss deepening by degrees—gentle, searching, unhurried.
Chan made a sound, a wimper, and the warmth of it sent a shiver down Wonwoo’s spine.
His hand moved, tracing up Chan’s jaw, over his, fingers grazing the side of his neck with a touch so light it made Chan’s stomach tighten. Then, carefully—so carefully— Wonwoo’s hand crawled under his hoodie, his fingertips pressing just slightly putting pressure on his nipples.
Chan gasped softly against his mouth, and Wonwoo took it as an invitation, entering his tongue with a low moan. Chan felt so good. Their lips moved slowly, teasing, a lingering drag that sent heat curling in Chan’s chest. It was intoxicating—the way Wonwoo tasted, the way his breath hitched when Chan’s hand finally, finally pressed down his crotch.
It was the kind of kiss that stole time.
That made everything else fall away—the dim light around them, the distant hum of the world outside, the frantic pounding of Chan’s own heart.
Right now, there was only this.
Chan pulled away with a sigh. He looked at Wonwoo’s piercing gaze. He felt like he could climax only from that, the lust in the man’s eyes. Chan couldn’t believe that Wonwoo was at such state - hard, panting, begging for release - because of him.
Chan crawled forward, pushing Wonwoo to lay on the bed with the lightest touch - Wonwoo was the one to lay down basically, seeing as Chan looked almost scared to touch him. So cute.
The younger placed his legs at each of Wonwoo’s sides, leaning his whole body to take the other’s lips back against his own.
Only the warmth of Wonwoo’s mouth against his, the way their breaths mingled between each lingering kiss, the quiet, desperate ache of being impossibly close and still wanting more.
When they finally pulled away, their foreheads touched, neither of them moving, neither of them speaking, their breaths still uneven.
“Let’s take things slow, okay? I want to feel you with all my senses working at hundred percent. I want to make love to you in my bed, to take care of you and hold you for hours.” Wonwoo whispered oh so softly, breath fanning Chan’s lips. The younger had closed his eyes, his response being the tiny tear that escaped his right eye. Wonwoo kissed it away.
Then he laid pecks all over his face, slowly moving down his jaw and neck where he sucked and licked, forcing loud moans out of Chan which were music to his ears.
While sucking, Wonwoo’s one hand worked its way and unbuckled Chan’s jean, taking out his cock and stroking it slowly. Chan gasped, “Hyung”. His other hand pressed Chan’s head as close as possible.
Wonwoo didn’t know how long he could hold it in anymore, Chan’s sounds more erotic than he expected. He couldn’t allow himself to look at Chan as he stroked him, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to handle the sight, he would want to eat Chan right then and there and that couldn’t happen - not today, not at a jock’s house.
Wonwoo took off his own pants, rubbing his cock against Chan’s. They both moaned simultaneously.
Chan rested his head on Wonwoo’s chest.
“Hyung, I’m- I can’t” Chan whimpered and moaned, not knowing what to do with himself. He had never felt like this.
Wonwoo planted kisses on his cheek for comfort, “You feel so good, baby.”
This was the final straw for Chan, who came with the loudest, “Wonwoo hyung!”
And with that, Wonwoo’s own orgasm followed.
Wonwoo laid himself on the bed, wrapping his arms around Chan’s waist and pulling him so Chan’s body was on top of his. They stayed like that for a while, breathing heavily.
Wonwoo brushed Chan’s hair backwards. There was a comfortable silence before the younger spoke up, chin resting on Wonwoo’s chest so they were looking at each other, “We are so stinky.”
Wonwoo laughed loudly, shoulders shaking. He pulled Chan closer once his laugher became cute giggles that turned Chan on too much. Wonwoo leaned in for a peck. “We are not stinky, we’re stinking cute”