(no) Strings Attached

Mistakes Meant To Make

San's brows knit at that. The words dug under his skin, the kind of honesty that made it hard to breathe. He hadn't expected that. He expected Woo to be over it—or at least pretending better.

Seojun, to his credit, didn't flinch. Didn't look annoyed or disappointed. Just leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on the table.

"Thanks for being honest with me," he said, voice steady, not a trace of insecurity laced in. "I'd rather you be real than fake a smile."

Wooyoung looked up then, eyes surprised and a little guilty. "You're not... mad?"

Seojun laughed softly. "Mad? Nah. I'm not here to compete with your past. I'm just hoping I get to be part of your present, and maybe—if I'm lucky—your future."

San blinked.

Wooyoung was silent for a moment before speaking, softer this time. "That's... kind of scary. You being this patient."

"Then let me be scary," Seojun said, smiling. "I can wait, Wooyoung. I don't need you to be over him tomorrow."

San's stomach twisted, his own reflection warped in the dark surface of his coffee cup. Patience? Trust? All that quiet, unshakable calm?

San then scoffed under his breath, leaning back against his chair like the words didn't just punch a hole through his chest.

"Please," he muttered, stirring his half-melted iced coffee with a straw he wasn't even drinking from. "It's not that deep."

Yunho, who'd been sitting across from him silently this whole time, blinked slowly. "You've been eavesdropping for ten minutes and haven't touched your drink."

"I was not eavesdropping," San said, quickly.
Too quickly. "I was just... chilling. Happens to be a public space. If people don't want their conversations heard, maybe don't shout about feelings in a fucking cafeteria."

Yunho raised a brow. "Uh-huh. You've been giving the death glare to a croissant for the past three minutes."

San ignored that. "Seriously, he's not even that special. Dude talks like a Pinterest board. 'I can wait, Wooyoung.' What does that even mean? Is he applying for boyfriend or saint of the month?"

Yunho just hummed. "Still not that deep though, right?"

San opened his mouth, then shut it again.
Crossed his arms. Tapped his fingers on his bicep like it would distract from the heat rising behind his ears.

"I mean... whatever. Wooyoung can do what he wants. I don't care."

He did. God, he did. But caring meant admitting a hundred things he wasn't ready to say.

So instead, he shoved the straw back in his mouth and muttered around it, "It's not that deep anyway."

Yunho just smiled at him knowingly. "Sure, bro."

And still San couldn't pinpoint the need of him to stay behind as he waited Wooyoung to leave the class he just finished. He didn't really know why the fuck he didn't leave when he realized that Wooyoung is taking his sweet time, probably summoned by the professor.

But when the boy did exit he froze by the doorframe.

He wasn't expecting to see San leaning against the lockers when he turned the corner.

San wasn't expecting to still be there, but apparently, his feet hadn't moved since he spotted Wooyoung going in earlier.

They both froze for a second—just enough time for the air to shift.

"Stalking me now?" Wooyoung asked, voice low, dry, not quite a joke but not angry either.
San shrugged, something unreadable in his eyes. "You always say that like I don't know where you'll be."