(no) Strings Attached

Nothing Equals Everything

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Next day psychology class was peaceful. A bit too peaceful.

There were hundred eyes on them, the way the dark hickeys mirroring each other said everything people wanted to know.

No one dared to point it out.

Except for Yeosang.

"Really Jung Wooyoung?" He heaved with his arms crossed.

They were sat in the cafeteria, just the two of them for the time being. The younger just stared at the table as if it was the most impressive thing in the world.

"After coming to me crying, after all the pep talks of how you should ignore San. After all those late night teary conversations... that's what your next move is?"

"It wasn't that deep." Wooyoung scowled, his friend widening his eyes in disbelief, a scoff revealing how dumbfounded he was.

"Not that deep?" Yeosang repeated bewildered. "Yeah. Calm down. It meant nothing. Nothing means anything anyway." Wooyoung shook his hands nonchalantly, eager to drop the topic.

"This is going to bite you back in the ass. How many times do I have to tell you. To warn you. You can't keep falling where he stands if he can't hold you tight, Wooyoung" Yeosang's voice broke, feeling the pain Wooyoung is trying to mask away instead.

Wooyoung just kept silent. Yeosang shook his head again, letting him be.

"Professor," San's voice broke through. Wooyoung snapped his head just in time to see Yeosang rolling his eyes before San took the seat next to him.

Wooyoung felt his heart pounding. San was looking at him with those knowing, soft eyes and all he could do was press his lips together as he blushed, the images of their last encounter flashing in his mind.

"How about we continue our project today? We've put it aside so long we're both gonna fail the class if we continue" he winked, biting his lips as he scanned over Wooyoung's body.

It was subtle, but Wooyoung could feel the weight of the naughty eyes in the pit of his stomach.

"Sure, meet me after my last class." He shrugged his false ignorance too noticeable for his friend who glared at him disappointed.

The corridor just outside the cafeteria felt longer than usual, the soft click of Wooyoung's boots against the tile echoing too loud in the silence he was trying to hold onto. He kept his eyes ahead, jaw tight, heart thumping in an uneven rhythm he refused to acknowledge.

But he should've known better. He heard San before he saw him—low footsteps, a breathy chuckle, then—

"You're walking like someone's chasing you," came the familiar voice, smooth and teasing right by his ear. "That's not very subtle of you."

Wooyoung tensed but didn't break his stride. "You're not exactly subtle either," he muttered, refusing to look over.

San's steps fell into rhythm beside his. "Mmm. I try to be." He leaned just enough that his shoulder brushed Wooyoung's, his voice dipping low. "But I get a little... sloppy when you're involved."

Wooyoung sucked in a breath. "San."

"Yes, baby?" His tone was pure sin.

Wooyoung finally turned to look at him—big mistake. San was grinning, eyes sparkling with mischief and something deeper, something softer that tugged at the strings Wooyoung swore weren't supposed to exist between them.

"Don't call me that," he said, voice wavering.
San's gaze dropped to his lips for half a second. "I'll stop if you really want me to."

He didn't.