(no) Strings Attached

Too Far

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the need to feel wanted for once, instead of being toyed with.

Either way, he let Seojun pull him off the couch.
They weaved through the party together, Seojun never straying too far, always keeping close. He found ridiculous excuses to touch Wooyoung—fixing a strand of his hair, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve, even nudging his chin up when Wooyoung made a joke and immediately looked away with a hidden smile.

And damn it, Wooyoung was smiling.

Seojun was good. Playful, charming, but not pushy. He didn't treat Wooyoung like he was fragile, but he didn't treat him like just another conquest either.

Wooyoung felt himself relax for the first time that night.

Then, just as Seojun wrapped an arm lazily around his shoulders, pulling him close to murmur something in his ear—

San walked in.

Seojun's breath was warm against Wooyoung's ear, his voice a smooth murmur beneath the pounding bass.

"You've got a really bad habit of biting your lip when you're thinking too hard," he teased.
"You do it when you're nervous, too. It's cute."
Wooyoung felt a small shiver trail down his spine at the observation. He hadn't even realized he'd been doing it.

Seojun leaned back just enough to meet his gaze, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Careful, though. You keep doing that, and I might think you're trying to tempt me."

Wooyoung scoffed, rolling his eyes—but he couldn't fight the smile that played at his lips.

"You're smooth, huh?"

"Only when I mean it." Seojun grinned, fingers reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from Wooyoung's forehead. "And right now? I really, really mean it."

Wooyoung let himself laugh, genuine this time. It felt good. Natural. Like for once, someone was looking at him, only him.

And then, Seojun did something unexpected.
With a soft hum, he lifted a hand and, ever so gently, squished Wooyoung's cheek with the side of his fist—playfully, lightheartedly, like he was pressing a button.

Wooyoung blinked, startled.

Seojun smirked. "That's five out of ten smiles so far. Told you I'd get you to ten."

Wooyoung huffed a laugh, pushing at his shoulder. "You're unbelievable."

"Yeah? But I'm growing on you, aren't I?"
And honestly? Maybe he was.

Wooyoung didn't even notice the way San's fingers curled into fists at the sight.

San had seen enough.

His stomach twisted, breath coming in sharp, uneven waves as he watched the scene unfold before him. Wooyoung—his Wooyoung—was practically melting under Seojun's attention. The way the guy leaned in, whispered in his ear, made him smile so easily—San was never able to do that.

And now?

Now, Wooyoung wasn't even looking his way.
San stood frozen, caught somewhere between rage and something far more bitter.

He had told himself that Wooyoung was just being petty. That this sudden cold shoulder, this new game he was playing—it was just that. A game.

But the way Wooyoung was gazing at Seojun, all soft, all open—San's chest tightened.

This wasn't just for show.

Wooyoung was choosing not to see him.

San clenched his jaw, his fingers itching for something—anything—to grab onto before he lost his goddamn mind. His eyes darted through the crowd, and without thinking, he found an answer.