(no) Strings Attached

This Time Gently

Two days later. Neither of them brings up that night. Or the morning after. Or the way Wooyoung walked out when San made his mom laugh so hard she had to sit down.

They're living around each other, not with each other. Sleeping under the same roof, eating the same meals, passing dishes in a silence filled with ghosts.

His mother always finds ways to force them to interact. She calls both of them 'her boys' as if it's always been true. Despite the fact that she knows San for barely a week.

Wooyoung's father, busy working to provide for the family, doesn't really say much but his face is too soft around the newcomer; doesn't question his intentions. He is content that his wife is enthralled by him.

He trusts his wife's judgment.

"Wooyoung!" Her soft yet somehow loud voice calls the younger. "Mhm?" He hums to acknowledge her as he slides his way into the kitchen.

"Go to the market. I've made a list." She orders before her kind yet mischievous smile makes its appearance. "Take San with you. You can't carry all the bags." She adds.

Then turns to San who choked on his cereals. "I don't trust the delivery tofu to be fresh enough for you, my boys." She excuses, ushering them to stand up.

"Go now, dad finishes early today." She patted both of their butts twice, for motivation she claims mentally.

With grunts and huffs they are pushed out of the house, already walking towards a direction San hasn't followed so far.

The more they walk the more the older's chest feels lighter.

San's never been to this part of the country before. Everything smells like salt and fish sauce and too many memories he doesn't own.

He walks beside Wooyoung, half a step behind, trying not to let it feel symbolic.

"It's nice here," he says, eyes scanning the cracked sidewalk, the way the buildings lean into each other. "Quiet. But not in a bad way."

Wooyoung doesn't answer. San tries again.

"Feels like the kind of place you'd grow up learning everyone's business whether you wanted to or not."

"It is," Wooyoung says eventually. "Especially if your mom talks as much as mine." It's not warmth. But it's not nothing.

They're halfway through the list when a familiar voice cuts through the market noise.

"Is that Wooyoungie?!"

A short woman barrels toward them, eyes crinkling behind thick glasses. She stops short when she sees San.

"Oh! Is this the boyfriend I've been hearing about?"

Wooyoung flinches like he's been slapped. San blinks.

"I—no," Wooyoung says quickly. Too quickly. "He's just... visiting."

The ajumma's smile dims, just a little.

"Ah. I see." She gives San a once-over, then pats Wooyoung's arm. "Well. He's very handsome. Be careful, or someone else will snap him up."

She walks away with a knowing chuckle. San doesn't laugh. Neither does Wooyoung.

The silence between them sharpens as they move.

"You okay?" San asks eventually.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Wooyoung shoots back.

"Because you acted like being seen with me was the end of the world."

Wooyoung stops walking.

"Don't put that on me," he says, voice low. "You don't get to walk into a life you never wanted before and pretend you know how it works."