Wooyoung all but stormed out of the lecture hall.
His grip on his notebook was so tight his knuckles turned white, his jaw clenched hard enough to make his head throb.
His second semester had barely started, and it was already ruined.
And it was entirely because of Choi San.
It wasn't even that San was disruptive. Or arrogant. Or even that he was rude to the professor in a way that should have gotten him kicked out of the classroom.
It wasn't that he'd spent the entire class on his phone, smirking to himself as if the world existed purely for his amusement.
No, what pissed Wooyoung off the most was the fact that every time San shifted in his chair, every time he smirked or tapped his pen against the desk, Wooyoung's body reacted.
San's presence was loud, and it wasn't just because of his mouth. His entire being radiated arrogance, filling every inch of space like he was entitled to it. Like the class, the teacher, and the world itself should be grateful for his existence.
It was infuriating.
Wooyoung had never met anyone like him.
And the worst part? The absolute most frustrating part?
Some ridiculous, shameful part of him liked it.
He hated that part of himself the most.
And he hated the fact that, as soon as he'd turned to snap at San, as soon as he'd locked eyes with him and opened his mouth to tell him to go bother someone else—
San would have winked.
Like he could see every thought going through Wooyoung's head.
And worst of all?
For just one stupid second, Wooyoung's brain had completely short-circuited. Again!
His voice had died in his throat.
His grip on his pen had loosened.
His heart had stuttered.
And he hated it.
Hated that his breath had caught, that the air had thickened around him, that for one dumb second he had frozen under the weight of San's gaze.
He was not attracted to him. He wasn't.
So why did his body feel so hot?
God. Maybe his mother had jinxed him. Don't let any handsome city boys distract you from your studies, she'd said, and Wooyoung had laughed. Had scoffed. Had claimed he would never.
And then came San, all sharp smirks and arrogant confidence and stupidly good hair, making his life hell within the first day.
It was mortifying.
He needed out.
With each furious step out of the lecture hall, he willed his mind to erase the last hour.
But of course—
"Yo, Professor Jung!"
Wooyoung froze.
No. No, no, no, no, no—
There was a lazy lilt to the voice, a tone dripping with unearned confidence, one that wrapped around Wooyoung's ribcage and squeezed.
He inhaled sharply and kept walking, determined to ignore him—
Until San was right behind him.
His hands were in his pockets, that familiar half-smirk curling at his lips. His eyes glinted, but there was something unreadable behind them.
KAMU SEDANG MEMBACA
(no) Strings Attached
Fiksi Penggemar"Hey San... wanna fuck?" It was supposed to be enough. It was never enough.
