San
"San."
Wooyoung comes up behind me at a jog, his backpack in one hand and the zipper half open. He is already digging through it when I turn, pushing past a sweatshirt, a tangled charging cable, and the corner of his passport holder.
He pulls out my headset.
I look at it. "You found them."
"They were on your bed."
I take them from him and set them around my neck. "I thought I'd have to buy new ones."
"I know." He zips his backpack and swings it over one shoulder. "That's why I checked before we left."
I give him a look. "You checked my room?"
"You forget things."
"You say that like it's a habit."
"It is a habit."
"It's happened maybe twice."
"This week."
I open my mouth, then close it again.
Wooyoung smiles, pleased with himself, and reaches over to straighten the headset where it sits crooked against my collar. His fingers brush the side of my neck, quick and familiar, before he drops his hand.
"A thank you would be fine," he says.
"Thank you."
"That sounded painful."
"It was."
He knocks his shoulder into mine as he moves beside me, and I shift without thinking, making room for him in the narrow path the security staff have cleared through the terminal.
The airport is already crowded. Suitcases click over the floor, announcements run together overhead, and people keep stopping in places no one should stop. Beyond the staff and the regular passengers, fans gather along the barriers, phones raised the moment they see us.
I bow when I catch someone's eye and keep walking. Wooyoung stays close, one hand landing briefly at my elbow when a suitcase cuts across our path, then between my shoulder blades when the crowd tightens near the gate.
Behind us, the others follow in loose formation, their voices carrying over the noise in pieces.
Sixteen hours to Europe. No stop in between.
I adjust the headset around my neck.
Wooyoung glances at it. "Don't lose them again."
"I didn't lose them. I left them somewhere safe."
"My bag?"
"Eventually."
He laughs once, low and short, then looks ahead as we move with the others toward the gate.
__________
I take the seat closest to Wooyoung's.
Closest is not very close, considering the seats are built like small rooms, with walls just high enough to make everyone feel farther away than they actually are. Usually I would have something to say about that. I like being able to see the others. To know where everyone is. It makes long flights feel less like being packed away somewhere and more like we are still moving as a group.
But sixteen hours is sixteen hours.
For that, I can accept a little distance.
Wooyoung has already made himself comfortable.
YOU ARE READING
Just This Tour / A WooSan FanFic
FanfictionWooyoung and San have always been close. Too close, maybe. Close enough for stolen food, shared rooms, familiar hands, and the kind of touch no one questions because it has always belonged to them. Close enough to know each other's habits, moods, si...
