(no) Strings Attached

Almost There

San sat at the other end, knees spread, thumbs tapped nervously against each other where they rested between his legs. Every so often, he stole a glance—quick, unsteady. Wooyoung wasn't looking back.

Not yet.

It wasn't cold, but both of them had blankets. Safety blankets, maybe. Distance blankets. One laid over Wooyoung's lap, the other tossed over San's thigh like he hadn't decided whether he was staying or getting up any second.

Neither had said anything about the night before.

The kiss. The second kiss. The almost third.

San had woken up thinking about it. The feel of Wooyoung's mouth, so soft it made him ache. The way he'd gripped the front of San's hoodie like it was the only thing holding him steady. He hadn't said stop, hadn't pulled away.

But he also hadn't said anything since.

The silence had felt safe at first. Now it was starting to buzz.

"Is this movie always this slow?" Wooyoung said suddenly, eyes still on the screen.

San blinked. "I—uh... I think so. You picked it."

Wooyoung huffed a soft breath through his nose, the kind that wasn't quite a laugh. "I did, didn't I?"

The cushions shifted a little as he uncrossed and recrossed his legs. Not away from San—closer. His knee nearly bumped San's thigh. He didn't move it.

Silence again. But it was warmer this time. Like they were both listening for the same unspoken thing.

"Do you—" San started, then stopped.

Wooyoung turned his head slowly, eyebrow lifting. "Hm?"

"I was just gonna ask if... you wanted something to drink," San lied, already wincing.

Wooyoung smiled at that. A real one. "You offering to make it for me?"

"Maybe."

"Mm. Dangerous offer."

San bit back a smile and looked away, down at the blanket half-slid off his lap. The silence wrapped around them again, but now it was different. Heavy in a good way. Like maybe this was how it started—again. Like maybe they weren't pretending anymore.

Then—

Very gently, Wooyoung stretched his legs out. One of them rested fully against San's now.

Not a big deal. Not dramatic. Just contact. Intentional.

San tensed first. Then relaxed. Then turned his hand, palm up, right there on his thigh. An offering, not a grab.

Wooyoung looked at it. Didn't take it right away. Then he shifted his blanket and slipped his fingers into San's. A quiet slide, like he was testing the weight of the moment.

They didn't look at each other. Didn't need to.

The movie kept playing. Neither of them was watching.

Wooyoung's fingers stayed laced with San's. No tighter, no looser. Just there—warm and real and steady.

He let the silence breathe for a moment. Let the comfort of it stretch over the awkwardness, just enough to feel brave.

"I know we both fucked it up," he said quietly. Not accusing—just... truth. "Big time."

San looked at him then. Really looked.

Wooyoung didn't flinch. "It wasn't just you. And it wasn't just me. I think we both did a damn good job making a mess of something we were terrified to want."