(Wooyoung POV)
Wooyoung was unwell.
He sat on the studio floor, tying and retying his shoelaces like that would somehow anchor him to reality—like he wasn't moments away from having a full-blown crisis in front of God and Mingi.
Because San had almost kissed him.
Like, actually.
It wasn't a joke. Not a fake-out. Not a prank or performance or glitter-coded sabotage.
San had looked at him like he meant it, and for one terrifying, electrifying second, Wooyoung had wanted it. He almost went to close the distance. Craved San's mouth on his. Considered grabbing his shirt and yanking him in saying 'Do it, I dare you.'
Insane, and definitely not okay.
He wanted Jihun, the handsome, ethereal, funny Jihun.
Right? Right??
Jihun was beautiful. Elegant. Polished. The dream. Everything Wooyoung had dared ever hope for in his ideal type.
Just lately, Jihun felt like a painting in a museum—gorgeous but untouchable. Unattainable. He smiled at everyone the same way. Tilted his head just right for every camera. Kissed with his eyes, but never let anyone close enough to ruin the image.
San, on the other hand, he was down to earth, annoying, yes, but also smart, funny, talented, and holy shit, that body was no joke. Wooyoung didn't usually indulge fantasies of being tossed around by a man, but, with San, he might be unlocking a new kink.
Plus, San was everywhere.
In his space. In his head. In his skin. He moved like he meant it. Looked at Wooyoung like he saw too much, like he wanted to touch too much. His voice lingered, low and rough. His abs—Wooyoung needed to stop thinking about his abs, shoulders, perfect ass. Ugh.
The way that tank top clung to him today? The sheen of sweat along his collarbone?
Wooyoung had nearly moaned when he reached up to adjust the studio speaker and his shirt lifted.
He was not proud of the thoughts he'd had. Not fit for polite company. Not even fit for his private journal.
He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.
"Get a grip," he muttered.
Only the truth was, he hadn't stopped feeling it. Not since San stepped in, all heat and tension and nearly kissed him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Now every time he looked at him, it was like his brain glitched out. Like the rivalry rebooted into something thirsty and confused.
Wooyoung wanted to scream. Or dance it out. Or maybe just shove San against the nearest wall and demand answers with his mouth.
He needed space.
He needed cold water.
He needed a good fuck or a damn exorcism.
Instead, San walked by again—glistening, smug, and somehow distractingly shirtless and Wooyoung felt his soul leave his body.
He was so screwed.
DU LIEST GERADE
Rivalry
FanfictionChoi San and Jung Wooyoung are both competing for the attention of Kim Jihun, the most attractive man in their dance program. What happens when they realize maybe they are more attracted to each other? Enemies to lovers. Quick story, not super de...
