(no) Strings Attached

This Meant Nothing

sorry🤓

They pulled away flushed, panting.

San knocked his head on Wooyoung's forehead, his eyes hazy with the daze Wooyoung's drug like kisses gave him.

Then after debating with himself he sighed. "Is he really that good?" San asked. Voice low, bitter.

Wooyoung laughed under his breath, a lace of disbelief. "Good at what?" He avoided eye contact.

"Everything I'm not, apparently."

That made the younger pull back with a sigh. "I don't know, San," he said. "He doesn't act like touching me was a mistake."

San's mouth parted, like he had something to say— but nothing came out.

Wooyoung stepped closer, slowly, voice soft but cutting. "I'm not even mad you pretended it didn't matter, at this point. I'm mad that I let myself think maybe it did."

Silence.

Then San finally whispered, "It did."

It cracked something open. Too little. Too late.

"Then why'd you act like it didn't?"

"I don't know how to do this, Woo," he said. "Not with you. Not when it's real."

Wooyoung scoffed. "You don't get to make me feel like nothing and then call it real."

San reached out, just barely—his hand brushing Wooyoung's sleeve.

"I miss you," he said, again, so brokenly.

Wooyoung swallowed.

"You had me," he said. "And you treated me like a secret."

"You still do" he added after a beat of silence.

Then he left. No dramatic exit. No tears.
Just the quiet, aching sound of someone choosing themselves for once.

San hadn't moved.

He stayed by the shelves like a fool—hands clenched, heart crawling up his throat, regretting every second he let pride win.

And he thought that was the end of it.

Until a couple of hours the later, when there was a knocking at his dorm door. Sharp. Impatient.

San opened it—half-expecting his roommate—and froze.

Wooyoung stood there. Hair mussed from the wind, eyes red and dark, jaw tight like he hadn't thought this through at all and was one second away from changing his mind.

"Say it again," Wooyoung said.

San blinked. "What—"

"You miss me?" Wooyoung cut in. "Say it again."

San's mouth parted. "I... I miss you."

Wooyoung didn't wait.

He grabbed San by the collar and kissed him like he hated him. Like the frustration had boiled into something animal. Tongues, teeth, bruised lips. It was desperate—clothes tugged in the half-dark of the dorm room, shoes barely kicked aside.

San backed him into the room, both of them a mess of angry fingers and frantic gasps.

Wooyoung walked even further, until they bumped on the side of the bed, and with a final push they ended up on it.

Wooyoung on top, San beneath him with his hands gripping the slim waist as if he was afraid this was one of his too many dreams of the younger.

One of his hands found the middle of Wooyoung's chest. He pushed him, forcing the kiss to die young. "Woo-" he panted.