(no) Strings Attached

Pull You In

Or maybe it was the moment his hand, casual as ever, landed right on Wooyoung's thigh.

Not in a blatant way. Just there. Resting. Warm. Unbothered. Like it belonged.

Wooyoung stopped breathing.

His pulse kicked up, and he hated that San kept talking, kept acting like this wasn't a calculated attack.

That was it.

Wooyoung ticked.

With a sharp shove, he knocked San's hand away.

San blinked at him—amused.

"Can you be serious for once?" Wooyoung huffed, frustration boiling over. "Or are you actually incapable?"

San tilted his head. Smirked.

"Relax, professor," he drawled, voice teasing. "If you want me to keep my hands to myself, just say so."

Wooyoung opened his mouth, ready to fire back but shook his head instead. "I'm going to the toilet" he spat, brain fuzzy.

Then, San leaned in.

And left a fucking peck on his cheek.

Wooyoung froze.

"I'll be waiting for you, baby," San whispered, voice soft, smooth, dangerous. "Don't make me wait too long."

And just like that, he leaned back, giving Wooyoung space to stand up.

The only problem?

Wooyoung couldn't move.

Because his heart was beating so loudly that if San leaned in, he'd definitely hear it.

His fingers curled into his lap, nails digging into his jeans as if grounding himself would help erase the lingering warmth of San's lips on his cheek.

San knew what he was doing. Knew exactly what kind of reaction he'd get. And that stupidly smug look on his face only made it worse.

"You're staring," San pointed out, voice as smooth as ever.

Wooyoung scoffed, tearing his gaze away. "I'm glaring, dumbass."

"Mm." San hummed, shifting in his seat, legs spreading lazily. "Could've fooled me. Looked more like you wanted something."

Wooyoung hated how his stomach tightened at that.

Before he could even snap back, San stretched his arms above his head, his hoodie riding up just enough to expose a sliver of his toned waist.

Wooyoung caught himself looking.

San caught him, too.

And that's when he knew he needed to get the hell out of here.

"I need a break," he muttered, snatching his laptop and shoving it into his bag.

San tilted his head, watching him with a spark of amusement. "Perfect. Let's go to my dorm, then."

Wooyoung blinked, mid-zip. "What?"

"You said you needed a break. Might as well change the scenery," San reasoned easily, already standing up and stretching again—this time slower, like he knew Wooyoung was very aware of him. "Besides, we actually need to finish this project, and you can't run from me forever, baby."

There it was again.

Baby.

A name that San used like a weapon. A name that made Wooyoung's body react before his mind could protest.