- [COMPLETED]
wooyoung's sex ed attendance is great, but that means nothing when his inexperience costs him his grades plus confidence.
but then he gets to know choi 'virgin slayer' san and maybe his slump has a chance of coming to an end after all...
"Thank you for the offer." But San also sounds quite unsure. "And Wooyoung, he's..."
Wooyoung stiffens where he stays, and with bated breaths waits for San to continue whatever he plans on saying. But for a moment, all he hears is nothing.
Then he's looking at purple fabric and realizes San's in front of him now. Behind him is his mother, casually taking a new sip of the fruit juice she'd brought.
"Thanks," San's voice pulls Wooyoung back to the present. He takes his clothes from the shorter's hands and goes to the bathroom to change. As soon as he disappears down the corridor, Wooyoung rushes to where his mother stands.
"What did he tell you?" He questions, sounding a little too desperate for his liking.
"So you were listening in on us," Ms Jung guesses.
"No I wasn't." At the pointed glare the woman shoots him, Wooyoung's shoulders hunch in defeat. "Okay fine. I was."
"San was just thanking me for the meal," his mom answers, finishing up her drink. She stills, thinking over something before setting her glass on the table. "I also know those are hickeys on his neck, but purposefully never said anything."
Wooyoung fiddles with his shirt, which is a bad, bad move because now he's imagining San's hands on him again. He wants to give a totally pg explanation as to why San's skin is filled with love bites but his mother stops him with a single inquiry.
"Does he have a girlfriend?"
"Mom." Wooyoung's too stunned to say anything else. What if San hears her? And, what if he does have a girlfriend? He's heard all about San's open sexual endeavors, but no one's ever said he only prefers one gender.
His heart sinks at the possibility of San cheating on his partner for him, and even lower at the possible chance that the taller's taken. But then again, he doesn't even know if what he and San did counts as anything sexual -- but then again, the way San held him earlier tonight seemed everything but platonic.
"San," Ms Jung utters right that second, and anxiety that really shouldn't be there consumes Wooyoung the minute San strolls out in his original outfit. "Going home now?"
For some reason, San stares at him before meeting his mother's eyes. "Yeah. Uh, thank you so much again for tonight."
"Oh please," but Ms Jung beams at San, and Wooyoung should be happy. He should be happy today didn't go south and his mom never overreacted, but he can't stop thinking about his mother's words and what he and San engaged in. "I'm happy you stopped by, even if it was to give Wooyoung his homework."
At this, San looks at him again, a smile one can only describe as tender enveloping his face. But Wooyoung breaks the eye contact, and awkwardly clears his throat. He doesn't have to watch San to feel the confusion radiating off of him.
Ms Jung, however, is none the wiser. "Have a safe trip back home, dear. Is your house far from here?"
"Yeah." San takes his helmet from the sofa and slips his feet into his shoes. It doesn't help how good he looks like this, his grungy outfit stretched over his lean body like second skin. "But I'll be alright, ma'am."
Wooyoung wants to turn on his heel and head for his room, but a hand on his wrist stops him.
"Can we talk outside?" San suggests, but his tone leaves no room for excuses. So Wooyoung listens and walks with the taller until he reaches his motorcycle.
San's fingers drum impatiently over the surface of his matte helmet. His jaw's set and lips pressed in a harsh line, but his eyes are overwhelmingly honest. "I'd ask if you're mad at something I did, but I already know the answer. So, what did I do?"
Wooyoung shoves his hands into his pockets, kicking at the few pebbles that cast shadows underneath the orange streetlights. "It's...not something you did."
San doesn't talk for a couple seconds. Then, he hops on his bike and pats his thigh. "Come sit."
Wooyoung's eyes almost pop out of their sockets. He stares at his house to see if his mother isn't lingering by the windows, relieved she isn't. "San, no."
San tilts his head, not getting his point. "Why?"
"Because I don't want to sit on your lap!" Wooyoung whisper-yells. "I don't want to do anything with you until -- until I know why you agreed to touch me in the first place."
San frowns, and it shouldn't look this sexy. Wooyoung's trying to stay angry, goddammit. "You said you wanted me to help you."
"Yeah, well," Wooyoung grumbles, "you kept going at it and looked like you were into it. I-In fact, you looked like you enjoyed it."
San lets out a dry laugh. "And what if I did?"
Wooyoung's pulse quickens. "W-What?"
"Look, Wooyoung," San begins, moving closer until their noses faintly brush. "I did enjoy it. I enjoyed it because you did. I was just helping you out -- wanted to make you more comfortable with touches -- and I'm sorry if you thought it meant something more than that."
Ouch. Wooyoung's gaze falls to the ground. He wants it to eat him up. "I -- I wasn't trying to say that."
"Then what were you trying to say?"
"Nothing!" Wooyoung barks, his outburst shocking San. "I was trying to say nothing, okay? Nothing, nothing, nothing. Goodnight."
He turns around and jogs back to his home before he does anything stupid in front of San like cry, or something.
Surprisingly, he doesn't cry, or feel anything really -- that is until he walks into his bedroom and sees the clothes he lent San neatly placed on his bed.
His heart throbs as if it's been shot through, and before he knows it, he's shimmying out of his clothes and pulling them on.
If this were any other time, he'd hate himself for being so obsessed and creepy, but not tonight. Instead, he places a hand on his chest and imagines it's San's hand holding him. He tries to copy what he saw the taller do, but it isn't the same. San's the one who knows just what to do to make him feel in ways he's never had.
Wooyoung gives up and, after packing his books for tomorrow, enters his bed and tries to let sleep smother him.
After maybe two hours of twisting and turning, Wooyoung switches on his phone to distract himself. His thumbs decide to have a mind of their own, bringing him back to his and San's chats again.
San hasn't read his latest messages (which makes sense), but he has changed his contact photo.
Ops! Esta imagem não segue nossas diretrizes de conteúdo. Para continuar a publicação, tente removê-la ou carregar outra.
He's outdoors and under the glow of the sun, his beach blond hair a vivid contrast to the stark blue sky. Wooyoung never knew he used to have blond hair.
Maybe Yunho and Mingi are right. Wooyoung's hands shake as he admires the picture, much too afraid to message the person on it.
San hasn't done anything wrong, he realizes. It's all his fault for believing for a moment that San -- the guy known by all for being a fuckboy -- could return whatever he's undoubtedly starting to feel for him.
