(no) Strings Attached

Too Far

A girl with dark red lips, swaying to the music, eyes already on him like she knew exactly what he needed.

He didn't know her name. Didn't care.

San moved, closing the space between them in one step. His hands found her waist as he leaned in close, murmuring something smooth, something easy—something Wooyoung should've turned his head at.

But he didn't.

Not immediately.

San danced, slow, intentional, pulling the girl against him with practiced ease.

Wooyoung was still laughing at something Seojun said.

San's grip tightened.

The girl's hands trailed over his chest, teasing, playful. San didn't react—his focus was elsewhere, waiting, waiting—

And then, finally—

Wooyoung turned.

Their eyes met.

For the briefest moment, something flickered across Wooyoung's face—something raw, something real. But just as quickly, it disappeared.

He raised a single eyebrow. Unbothered. Unimpressed.

San felt something inside him snap.

Fine.

If Wooyoung wanted to pretend like this didn't affect him, San would just have to make him feel it.

He leaned in, whispering something low into his partner's ear, making sure Wooyoung saw the smirk on his lips, the way his fingers gripped tighter, the way he let the girl's hands wander—

And then—

Then, Seojun's hand tilted Wooyoung's chin up.
San's breath hitched.

Wooyoung let it happen.

San didn't think. He moved.

Before Seojun could close the distance, before Wooyoung could let it happen—San was there, shoving Seojun's chest just hard enough to make him step back.

Wooyoung gasped, eyes widening. "San—"

"Not happening." San's voice was low, possessive. His fingers curled around Wooyoung's wrist before he even realized what he was doing.

Seojun scoffed, straightening up. "What the hell, man?"

San's eyes never left Wooyoung's.

"He's not yours," Seojun added, voice sharp.

And oh, that pissed San off.

"Yeah?" San's grip on Wooyoung's wrist tightened, but his next words weren't for Seojun.

They were for Wooyoung.

"Then tell me to let go."

Wooyoung's pulse was thundering in his ears.

San's fingers were hot around his wrist, his grip firm—too firm. His body burned from the intensity in San's eyes, from the way he had just claimed him in front of everyone.

He wanted to feel good about it. Wanted to believe that it meant something.

But he couldn't.

Not after what he had seen in that damn bathroom. Not after the way San had treated him like a joke.

Not after tonight.

"Let go," Wooyoung said, voice steady despite the way his chest ached.

San's jaw twitched. He didn't move.