Things have been too calm for the past couple of weeks.
Wooyoung was back to pretending he was okay.
San continued to support that nothing mattered.
They both acted as if there wasn't a ticking bomb tied down to each of their legs, holding them hostage in a minefield full of unspoken emotions.
Correction; things were awkward.
Today was awkward as well.
The shared dorm kitchen smelled faintly of burnt toast and instant noodles. Afternoon light filtered through the grimy windows, catching on dust motes and silence.
Wooyoung stood by the kettle, staring blankly as it boiled. San was on the other side of the counter, lazily scrolling through his phone, pretending not to feel the weight of every second.
Neither said anything.
Not at first.
"You're out of oat milk," Wooyoung finally murmured, reaching for a mug. His voice was even, but it sounded like a recording—flat, just loud enough to be heard and forgotten.
"Oh," San said. "It's fine. I'll grab more later."
A pause.
Wooyoung nodded, like that was the end of it. Like they didn't use to share grocery lists and annoy the hell out of each other about who drank the last of what.
No teasing. No eye-rolls. No soft jabs about San's expensive taste or Wooyoung's obsession with cinnamon.
Just silence.
The kettle clicked off. Wooyoung moved, pouring hot water over a tea bag like he wasn't hyper-aware of the space San took up behind him.
"Did you finish the Lit Theory reading?" San asked, leaning on the counter, feigning nonchalance.
"Professor Kim's gonna tear people apart."
Wooyoung gave a short laugh. "Yeah. I skimmed it at 2am. Something-something late capitalism and despair."
"Sounds about right."
More silence. The kind that used to be easy between them. Comfortable.
Now it felt like wearing clothes that didn't fit anymore.
"You pick a topic for your film essay?" Wooyoung asked, still facing the mug.
"Thinking about doing the Deleuze comparison. Might be overkill."
"You love overkill," he said. The words came too fast, too familiar.
They both flinched.
Wooyoung stirred his tea, his knuckles pale.
San shrugged like he didn't notice. "Yeah. Well."
Another beat passed.
"I gotta head to library in like ten," Wooyoung mumbled, turning to leave.
San nodded. "Yeah. I've got lab soon too."
They didn't look at each other.
"See you," Wooyoung added, quieter now.
"Yeah," San said. "Later."
It was nothing.
Just small talk in a shared space between two classmates.
Nothing to see here. Nothing to feel.
Except for everything they weren't saying.
And the way the air clung to their backs as they walked away, like it hated being left alone too.
YOU ARE READING
(no) Strings Attached
Fanfiction"Hey San... wanna fuck?" It was supposed to be enough. It was never enough.
