Can you feel the moon || Woosan

Chapter 2

"Just crepes-"

The house trembled. The crockery tinkled in the cupboard around the kitchen and the window opened then closed on its own. Eyes widening, San hastened to get up on his feet and raised his hands in surrender.

"Okay, shit- Wooyoung, I'm sorry." He patted Wooyoung's forearm and purposely ignored how pissed the younger looked – over crepes, for fuck's sake – before carefully taking the mixing bowl away. He put it back on the table, right next to San's forgotten whisk. "Of course, these are not just crepes, what was I thinking. Here, let's name them. What about Bob for the first one you'll make ?"

Mili rumbled again.

"Jinyoung ? Mina ? Sasha ?"

"You clearly don't know how to name crepes correctly."

Wooyoung took the mixing bowl back and walked around the table, stopping on the opposite side, away from San. He started mixing the batter again, not sparing San a glance. He was obviously trying to look mad, but San could see the corner of his lips trembling as he was fighting against his smile, and the comfortable warmth emanating from Mili betrayed his true feelings. He wasn't pissed. If anything, their little banter cheered him up.

"What am I supposed to do now," San pouted, leaning against the table and placing both his elbows on the surface, chin in his hands.

He wouldn't mind watching Wooyoung work without doing anything productive himself. The veins on Wooyoung's forearms had been distracting him the whole time already, and now that he had nothing to do, they were on full display for him to admire.

"You stay where you are and don't touch anything," Wooyoung answered, opening the flour bag and spreading some more into the batter. "I don't want my crepes to be in dang-"

He sneezed. In the mixing bowl.

San brought his lips into a thin line, forcing himself to keep the laugh in as he watched the cloud of white slowly dissipate around Wooyoung's head, his face covered with flour.

"Don't," Wooyoung murmured, putting the bag of flour back on the table in slow motion.

But it was too late. San burst out laughing, head falling backward as he held his stomach, his own high-pitched laugh resonating in his ears. Wooyoung's pissed face wasn't helping him calm down at all.

"Don't laugh at me !" Wooyoung growled.

Seeing San wouldn't stop anytime soon, he took three big steps around the table and grabbed San's sweater. Before San could react or even think, Wooyoung rubbed his face against the cloth, dirtying the previously immaculate sweater with flour.

"What the f-"

"I told you to stop laughing !"

Wooyoung let go of San's shirt, a frown lingering on his forehead. His face was still covered with white, flour sticking to his hair and eyebrows. Rubbing it against his sweater had done nothing but annoy San, and Wooyoung seemed to realize it fairly quickly. His frown disappeared and his pout turned into a smirk as he looked down at the ugly traces of flour on San, a light giggle passing his lips.

"Nice shirt."

"You're going to regret that."

Wooyoung met his gaze again, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah ? I'm not scared of y-"

Without giving him any time to answer, San grabbed an egg from the table and cracked it open on Wooyoung's head.

In awe, he watched the shell lingering there while the sticky substance slid along Wooyoung's hair, covering white flour and silky strands on its way. It reached Wooyoung's forehead, glided over his eyebrows, dripped on his black shirt and ended its trip on the floor.