Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

moodboard by encie

“Baby, I can't help myself.
I'm seein' you everywhere I go.
I don't dream of anyone else.”

The wooden bed frame creaked, joining the symphony of moans and slapping sounds that already filled the room.

His cheek was smashed against the pillow, his back arched and his legs bent and spread so San could keep snapping his hips with that abandon that characterised him lately. Wooyoung guessed it was the stress of the exams and the important matches coming up, but the contrast between their recent hook-ups and the ones they had a couple of months ago was huge .

It was as if San was desperate to tear him apart, piece by piece, until Wooyoung couldn’t even utter the captain’s name because he was so ruined that even talking was out of his reach.

One of San’s hands gripped Wooyoung’s thigh harder while the other landed right over Wooyoung’s, next to his head. Their fingers didn’t intertwine but neither of them seemed to care. 

San mouthed at Wooyoung’s shoulder and the latter writhed, completely lost in the mix of pleasure of San thrusting inside him and his cock, that was trapped between his body and the bed, rubbing against the surface every time San rolled his hips again. 

Lately, having sex with San was so intense that Wooyoung couldn't last as long as he usually did, always surprising himself when the orgasm ripped through him and left him boneless and caged between San’s arms. 

“Fuck, San,” Wooyoung whimpered.

San’s tongue ran up his neck —his famous sensitive spot— and Wooyoung’s legs buckled. 

If it wasn’t for San still grabbing onto his thigh, his whole body would have fallen onto the mattress after the bite the captain left right below his ear, accompanying it with a low:

“Love when you say my name like that.”

Wooyoung’s fingers moved ever so slightly over the mattress until San’s were perfectly slotted between them and he grinned with eyes closed.

At the beginning, he preferred to have sex like this because it felt less… intimate . More like something with an expiry date or even like a silly mistake that he wouldn’t mind making again. San could barely kiss his lips and Wooyoung could focus on how good it felt without thinking about anything else.

Because it was supposed to end.

It shouldn’t keep happening ten months later.

“‘M close,” Wooyoung mumbled when San dared to repeat the torture. 

First with his tongue. Then with his teeth.

Unconsciously, he held San’s hand tighter. 

“Yeah?” 

Wooyoung didn’t need to see him to know that San was smirking. The dimples popping out and making something inside him flutter.

He hated those stupid dimples so much.

No dimples deserved to look so good on anyone’s face.

San sucked on his shoulder, the smirk still plastered on his lips. 

“ San ,” was his only warning. A whiny one.

“No marks, I know.” His movements grew shallow and his voice strained as he whispered against Wooyoung’s ear, “You haven’t cummed because I haven’t called you ‘princess’, yet?”

A broken moan parted Wooyoung’s lips and San’s arm circled completely around his waist, manhandling him like a ragdoll whilst he sped up one last time. His nose hit Wooyoung’s temple and Wooyoung shuddered at the sound of his ragged breathing and his moans.

“I can’t… sta-.” San’s short nails sank into the skin of Wooyoung’s hips, making his body rub against the mattress exactly how he needed it. “Shit.”

A last whimper escaped his mouth and his body fell into the hurricane whilst San crashed completely on top of him, almost burying him into the mattress.

“God, Woo,” he said. Their fingers still half laced beside their heads.

So… well.

At the beginning, Wooyoung liked to have sex like this because it kept him grounded. It reminded him of what they had. But secretly, he had started to like even more the way San nuzzled against his neck and kissed his nape whilst his body was still on top of him right after coming down from their orgasms.

And when his mind tried to dig too much into that buzzing feeling, he just turned around underneath San and shut down his own thoughts with a long kiss that, eventually, only backfired because why on Earth did San  reciprocate the fucking kiss so sweetly after fucking him six ways to Sunday.

“Shower and dinner,” he reminded Wooyoung in the middle of their kiss, sliding their lips together again before the latter could say a thing. “You said I convinced you earlier.”

“That was before you decided to tease me for like…” Wooyoung glanced at the clock San had on his nightstand. “Fifty minutes.”

San shrugged, his red hair pointing in all directions from all the pulling and his lips bitten and swollen yet curled into a winning grin. Like a living sin; or just like the reason why Wooyoung would forget for one more day that they should just fuck and say goodbye.

When was the last time they simply fucked and said goodbye anyway?

“Come on, princess. You said you could rest tonight and I haven’t cooked you my famous bibimbap yet.”

Princess .

He should have also stopped the petnames but after asking San not to call him ‘baby’ and getting asked if the problem was that specific term or the petnames, Wooyoung found himself at a loss for words.

In fact, it didn’t even happen like that.

What San said was along the lines of, “What if I call you ‘princess’ instead, hm?”

And Wooyoung had blushed so madly that he never asked him to take it back.

“Shower, quick dinner and I’m leaving,” Wooyoung conceded. “And no more funny games.”

“Are kisses considered ‘funny games’ too?” San wondered while their lips brushed with each word. 

Wooyoung pressed his index finger against San’s puckered lips, looking way more annoyed than he actually felt.

“Stop,” he said, completely unserious, with a smile that had betrayed him even before he could even speak. “And let me clean up so I can enjoy that famous bibimbap.”

San rolled off of him and Wooyoung playfully slapped his hip before getting off the bed, taking one of San’s towels from his drawer and locking himself in the bathroom.

*

Wooyoung took the first bite with the same confidence he took his exams. San had cooked for him in the past and he had always been far from disappointing. He explained to Wooyoung one of those days that they were too lazy to leave the couch to clean up properly that his grandparents used to own a restaurant and that they taught him everything he knew. 

He emitted a happy sound, his eyebrows knitted and his lips pulled in a frown as he munched on the bibimbap. It tasted so good . Every ingredient perfectly cooked and mixed together on his tongue. 

“If you ever ended up opening a restaurant, I would be your first customer,” Wooyoung mumbled around his chopsticks after taking another mouthful of food.

San's eyes didn’t meet his own but they turned into crescents anyway as a smile bloomed on his lips.

“Glad you liked it.” The temporary shyness faded away when the captain cleared his throat with a sip of water. “I told you it was famous.”

Playfully, Wooyoung kicked him under the table and San giggled before pointing at him with his chopsticks. 

“Eh, I’m only stating facts. Do you want me to message my mother? Or Jongho? Or Seonghwa?”

Wooyoung shook his head, taking some rice and smiling to himself at the thought of San sharing homemade food with him. It shouldn’t feel special, and he shouldn’t feel so giddy inside, but he couldn’t help it.

The more he peeked through the layers that covered the captain, the more Wooyoung wondered why some people from his class hated him so much.

Or why even he judged him so quickly at the beginning just because he played football, was the captain of the team, wasn’t part of the top students of his class and went out more than the average.

Ten months later, Wooyoung had learnt that when San went out, he usually wasn’t as drunk as some of his friends. He didn’t smoke either. And the mere mention of any drug made him gag.

He took his health and his team so seriously.

And he worked his ass off for his grades, even if they never showed how much San had sweated for them.

“I could even text Yeosang,” San added, tapping his chin with his fingers. “Jongho brought a huge food container to your place last month.”

“Did he?”

San nodded. “And Yeosang sent me a voice note to praise me so…”

“Why are you even justifying your fame when I told you it tasted good?” Wooyoung teased. 

San halted, the chopstick sinking into his plate, his eyes widening for a split second and his lips forming a pout. Wooyoung shrieked.

“You were so ready to explain to me why your bibimbap was good that you didn’t actually listen to me when I said it was good?”

San tilted his head down to fill his mouth with more food, murmuring in a quiet voice, “Maybe?”

Wooyoung nudged him and craned his head in his direction, almost leaning it against his shoulder to lock eyes with him.

“Is this how you show your teammates how to listen to the rest?” 

San groaned. “Not funny.”

“I’m going to tell Jongho that I think they should get a new captain for the next season because the one they have now has his head too far up his own ass that he can’t even pay attention during a simple conversation.”

San pouted again. “You don’t deserve my food.”

Wooyoung’s lips curled and, somehow, he could feel how his smile cracked at the corners. Because even if San’s intention wasn’t that at all , it didn’t mean he wasn’t right. After all, San was giving him a meal he cooked with his own hands and Wooyoung couldn’t even stay with him for more than five hours without feeling the need to go back to his flat. 

Why was he even thinking about that?

They were joking.

He wasn’t serious.

“It’s too late for that. I’ve inhaled almost the entire plate.”

San sighed dramatically. “Damn it.”

“Thank you, though,” Wooyoung suddenly blurted out, the funny atmosphere breaking into pieces whilst he turned his head towards his plate to eat what was left before it got cold. 

At first, San used to get completely lost with Wooyoung's outbursts but after almost a year, he seemed to have mastered the art. Wooyoung could hear the engines in San’s brain working to translate the real message behind his words. 

A soft chuckle.

San’s fingers squeezing Wooyoung’s thigh.

“It’s nothing. I really wanted you to try it.” 

He could feel the dimples staring at him.

And it wasn’t the moment to fantasise about looking at San again to kiss those dimples. 

Why would he, anyway. They weren’t going to have sex again that night. 

Wooyoung swallowed. Lately they had kissed for absolutely no reason too many times for his own good. Not only on the lips. Sometimes it was a light caress against the cheek, other times a joke that ended with mouths pressed against shoulders or against the back of the hand. 

“Y’know, as a thank you for bearing with my silly ass all these months.”

“Is the silly ass in the room with us?” Wooyoung retorted, committing the crime of taking a quick glance to see the exact moment in which the dimples deepened because San’s smile widened. “Hm, Captain Choi? First you don’t listen to me and now this? I should text Jongho right now…”

“You gotta admit I would fit the stereotype. Haven’t you heard what people say about football captains?”

Of course he had.

“You decided to not fit the stereotype the moment you came out. You ruined the opportunity the day you did that.”

“I guess.”

San refilled his glass of water and Wooyoung rubbed the spot San squeezed earlier. 

When did the air around them get so heavy?

Why wasn’t he at home? Why was he still here, taking up all his time with a dinner that was supposed to be quick?

“You’ll have to find another campus if you want to start over. I’m sorry.”

Wooyoung knew a lot about that.

“You are willing to get rid of me.”

Wooyoung pushed his empty plate with his fingers and let out a quiet giggle at the irony of San's comment. Because he wouldn’t be there, having dinner with him, almost a year later, if that was the case.

So, just to make sure San didn’t forget that, he poured himself more water and whispered with his lips against the rim of his glass.

“Not at all.” 

***

“I want you ready tomorrow at six o’clock.”

Wooyoung lifted his gaze from the TV series he was watching —Grey’s Anatomy, sue him, the medical student inside him thought that was an event he couldn’t skip in his life— and found his flatmate, and best friend, Yeosang leaning against the doorframe, his green and black hair looking extremely soft after his shower and his cheeks still flushed because of the warm water. 

He was wearing a sweater that looked easily two sizes too big on him but Wooyoung didn’t need him to turn around to know that on the back he would find Jongho’s surname and his player number.

At first, he only frowned.

“Am I missing something…?”

Yeosang scoffed, folding his arms against his chest.

“I’m going to give you another chance to think about it.”

Wooyoung sat properly on his bed as he opened the calendar on his phone to see if that gave him some kind of clue. His eyes zeroed in on the screen and the mere sight of the full date was like a double-slap. 

No.

Like a double-slap, a kick and a punch.

“Ah, fuck.” Wooyoung let out a long sigh, his gaze returning to his best friend. “I never said I was going with you, Sangie.”

“No, but I’m telling you. We are going tomorrow. I’m sure the captain will be happy to see you there.”

Wooyoung shook his head. “I’m not going. He has many fans who will be cheering for him.”

It wasn’t even a bitter remark, Wooyoung adored seeing people praising San. He was an exceptional football player and he poured all his being into the task of being the best captain that their university had ever had. 

It was delightful to see so many people with banners with San’s name.

It didn’t matter if Wooyoung was there or not.

Yeosang pointed a finger in his direction. “Wooyoung. This match and the one they have in two weeks will decide if they enter the championship. At least do it for Jongho? He will be happy to see you too.”

Wooyoung’s stomach twisted.

“I…”

Yeosang took a seat next to him, his hand finding a home on Wooyoung’s knee.

“Listen, I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. But it’s been… what? Three and a half years since we started uni? You used to love going to the matches with me and it’s going to be so different this time.”

Wooyoung avoided Yeosang’s face, his body tensing under the gentleness that his best friend exuded. It was surreal to think that Yeosang was there when everything happened, that he supported Wooyoung through his downfall and that he had smiled proudly each time Wooyoung took an unsure step in what he thought was the right direction.

A snort parted his lips.

“This time I’ve actually been hooking up with the captain for months and he wasn’t a one-night thing.”

The hand that was on his knee smacked the same spot and Yeosang huffed.

“You know that’s not the same either.” Yeosang inched closer. “San is so damn nice that he has never asked you to leave your comfort zone for him, even if that meant hiding him like a mistake without even explaining why. He hasn’t even asked you directly to go to his matches and he has memorised your crazy-ass schedule to know when you two can hang out. So don’t call him a hook-up.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. 

He was being an asshole about this whole thing. He knew it, but he got so defensive when it came to this. 

“Your boyfriend sure did a good job turning you into another San protector.”

Yeosang didn’t even retort, more than used to dealing with the sharp tongue that Wooyoung hid for the moments where he felt attacked and his first response was striking back before he was the one bleeding on the floor. 

“It’s a single match. Nobody will find it weird. I’m dating one of the players and you, as the marvellous best friend that you are, are going with me so I’m not by myself.”

“What about Yeonjun? I thought you said he always went with you to see Soobin play.”

“Oh. I told him you were coming with us and he already bought three tickets.”

Wooyoung tensed further, feeling cornered and with no power to share his opinion.

Yeosang invaded his personal space even more, his face craned until they could meet eyes again.

“Woo, you’ve spent the last few months watching the live stream of all the matches and pretending you didn’t when Jongho and San talked about them because you didn’t want to explain why you stayed home.”

Yeosang’s eyes were all patience and softness when he drew a tiny smile.

“Don’t you want to be able to talk about them for once? Or to be there with Yeonjun and me and celebrate with us when they win instead of spamming my conversation with emojis?” His hand caught Wooyoung’s. “I swear I’ll go home with you if it triggers you but I really don't think it will.”

Wooyoung didn’t know what to say, his fingers rigid in Yeosang’s and his stomach swirling with a familiar anxiety. 

“But I can’t talk to him afterwards,” was the first thing that came to his mind. “I really… If I go…”

He was so selfish. Again.

Most nights, Wooyoung wondered when San would get fed up and move on from his bullshit. He always insisted on how excited he was to see him when Wooyoung was the one to suggest meeting or when he joined San and his friends’ at their pre-game party, but the ugly reality was still there —Wooyoung refused to be seen in public with him. 

He had repeated several times that they were only acquaintances for the public eye. San was Jongho’s best friend, who happened to be the boyfriend of Wooyoung’s best friend. That was all. 

No unnecessary comments.

No unnecessary stares.

The further he could stay from him when they were outside, the easier it would be to keep the peaceful life he had been building since he started his degree.

And yet, the more time passed by, the harder it was to not approach him when they crossed paths on campus or to not ask him to go somewhere together, outside of their flats.

“Look me in the eye, do you think San would break your trust like that? Even if he’s dying to hug you after the match, he won’t.”

Wooyoung tilted his head down. 

He would also be dying to hug San after the match, to celebrate that it’s the first time that he was really there. 

“I know. Sorry. I just got all weird and I…” Wooyoung finally gripped Yeosang’s fingers back. “I’ve wanted to explain it to him so many times but it’s so hard. All of this… I hate talking about it. I feel like no one would understand it.”

“For the record, I do believe that San would wait years for you to find the words. And anyway, you’ve managed to open up with Hongjoong, so don’t underestimate yourself. Take all the time you need.”

Hongjoong. The only friend he had made by himself since he started his degree. Another crazy workaholic like him who was an expert in biology but a total mess when it came to what was inside the heart.

He also had Yeonjun, sure, but they met through Yeosang. It wasn’t the same. And they mostly hung out to do fun stuff, not to sweat and cry till four in the morning because they had to submit an assignment before seven and they had run out of coffee.

“How long have you been planning this?” Wooyoung asked.

Yeosang shrugged. “Since the second time you decided to watch a livestream instead of coming with me. I knew that the only way to convince you was doing… this, even if you might get defensive. If I had told you about this a few days ago, you would have come up with an excuse, and if I had told you tomorrow, your anxiety would have eaten you up. Sorry if I was too harsh.”

Wooyoung smiled. 

Yeosang wasn’t too harsh, he did what he had to do to pull Wooyoung out of his slightly toxic comfort zone. Wooyoung himself knew that this was the only way to keep maturing and growing and leaving everything behind. 

“Jongho gave me his team sweater so you can wear it tomorrow.”

Wooyoung chuckled. Although Jongho was San’s best friend and he could hate Wooyoung’s guts for the way he treated the captain —just like San’s other best friend, Seonghwa, did— the football player had always been so kind to him.

He wondered if Yeosang had told him part of their past; part of his past.

Or maybe he had seen how Wooyoung was with Yeosang and had been able to tell that something clearly happened before university, even if he couldn’t put his finger on what .

“What would I do without you?” Wooyoung joked, though it didn’t taste like a reason to laugh.

“Probably wear one of your boring sweaters instead of cheering the team properly.”

*

Messages:

j. woo [20:09]: 

hey

good luck tomorrow

captain sannie [20:11]: 

r u busy tmrw?

j. woo [20:12]: 

?

captain sannie [20:11]: 

u usually wish me luck right before the match

thank u youngie

***

Wooyoung fidgeted with the hem of Jongho’s sweater while Yeosang showed their tickets. Yeonjun had messaged them that morning to tell them that he had woken up with a high fever, so it was only the two of them in the end. This was, in some way, better, because even though Yeonjun had a brief idea of what happened, he wasn’t Yeosang.

“Feeling good?” Yeosang checked in on him, guiding him through the small but decent venue where their university held the different competitions. 

Wooyoung nodded, his legs heavier than usual and his lungs filled with half the air he could usually inhale. So far, nobody had looked at them or approached them or anything of the sort. It had been… loud, because it was a venue, but quiet at the same time.

“Water?” Yeosang asked, queueing to order some drinks and snacks before going to their seats. “Also, Jongho said you looked cute in his sweater and that he hopes to see you in more matches.”

Wooyoung rubbed his cheek with his knuckles. “You sent him the pic?”

“You looked so adorable, of course I did.” Yeosang licked his lips, murmuring only for Wooyoung to hear. “Did you send it to him …?”

“No.” Wooyoung bit the inner side of his cheek. “I didn’t tell him I’m here either.”

Yeosang slapped his arm and Wooyoung pulled at his bucket hat, trying to hide himself from the accusatory glare his best friend was shooting in his direction.

“You could at least send him a picture of the field when we go to our seats. Something . I swear to god, Wooyoung.”

“Why do you care so much?”

Yeosang raised an eyebrow, stepping forward and not asking Wooyoung again before ordering a Coke for himself, a bottle of water for Wooyoung and some chips. He gathered everything in his arms and once they were far from the queue, he muttered:

“I care because you have a tendency to ruin every good thing that happens to you unless it’s related to your grades.”

He walked up the stairs and didn’t look at Wooyoung again, leaving him behind to digest not only his own thoughts on the matter but also Yeosang’s words. Was he sabotaging his relationship with San? 

If he was, he wouldn’t still be in contact with him after ten months.

Wooyoung considered him a friend .

A very particular one, for sure, because they never went outside and they slept together quite a lot , but a friend regardless. He hoped San didn’t doubt that, despite how strange Wooyoung’s behaviour was at times.

*

“Still okay?” Yeosang asked him five minutes before the match started.

Wooyoung didn’t tear his gaze away from the cheerleaders, nodding ever so slightly just in case saying it out loud could jinx his luck. 

In his distorted memories, he would be getting nasty looks from some of the cheerleaders and people around him would be gossiping about the last fight he had with one of them as if Wooyoung couldn’t hear them. 

This time, only a young girl had approached them and it had been to ask Yeosang where he bought his Jongho signed sweater. Her face had been priceless when Yeosang turned around and she connected the dots, recognising Yeosang’s face from all the stories Jongho posted of them together.

It had been sweet. It hadn’t felt invasive at all.

“I’m excited,” Wooyoung admitted, his eyes landing on his best friend’s face whilst a smile conquered his lips. “You were right. It’s different.” The smile widened. “Better.”

Yeosang grinned. “Did you finally tell him?”

“I think Jongho did.” 

He showed the conversation to Yeosang and the latter shook his head while his characteristic chuckle escaped his mouth. 

Messages:

captain sannie [18:40]: 

wooyoung

send me a selfie

right now

j. woo [18:41]: 

why

captain sannie [18:42]: 

???????

WHY???

do it

j. woo [18:42]:

j. woo sent a picture

captain sannie [18:43]: 

ok

im dead

ttyl imma give the talk to the team

j. woo [18:43]: 

hahaah

i’ll leave to keep you alive

captain sannie [18:43]: 

they will be for u btw

j. woo [18:44]:

for me?

captain sannie [18:44]: 

my goals

Yeosang raised his eyebrows and Wooyoung shrugged, not wanting to comment on the last message or on how it had made his stomach flutter. He only hoped his presence didn’t bring any kind of bad luck to the team, they deserved to enter the championship.

“Wooyoung?” 

Wooyoung’s eyes widened as he pocketed his phone and turned his head, finding one of his classmates on the row behind but some seats away from them. Miyeon. She was with some of her friends, Miyeon introduced them to Wooyoung when they were in their first year, though Wooyoung had only had real conversations with the one named Minnie.

Casually one of the friends who wasn’t there.

“Hi,” he said. “Didn’t know you liked football.”

Miyeon pointed at the cheerleaders. “We always come to support Mimi and Shu.”

“Oh, I didn’t know they were part of the team.”

Miyeon giggled. “Don’t tell that to them! Shuhua is the leader!” She gestured towards Yeosang. “Did you come because of Jongho?”

A sharp pang dug into his chest.

Nobody knows you are friends.

Because of you.

He forced a smile. “Yeah. Sangie never misses any of his matches and it was about time that I came with him.”

“Cute. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you. Have fun and see you tomorrow!”

Wooyoung gripped his phone and his fingers unblocked his chat with San. He hadn’t even noticed that Yeosang was staring blankly at him, his expression a mix of sadness and the particular comfort that only Yeosang could cast.

Messages:

j. woo [18:57]: 

i hope to be your lucky charm

When he left his flat, he was expecting to deal with a wave of anxiety, to have to regulate his emotions over and over throughout the match to not end up having a meltdown before San could score a goal. 

However, the moment he arrived at the venue, Wooyoung realised that his past wasn’t going to be a problem.

The problem was the way his past had influenced his present. 

“Woo?”

Yeosang caressed his back, shifting slightly closer. 

Wooyoung looked at his best friend and pocketed his phone. 

“I’m fine. Really.”

At least, his main concern wasn’t poking his brain from the inside anymore. It had been replaced by a new worry that, if he was honest, had been growing at an alarming speed since the first time San stopped him from leaving right after sex. 

It grew when San kissed him while they watched a movie.

It grew when San let him borrow a hoodie so he didn’t freeze while they waited for their dinner to arrive.

It grew when San invited him to take a shower at his flat and use all his bathroom products, including his towels. 

Wooyoung swallowed.

His gallery had countless pictures of the football captain, who had told him that he was going to dedicate his goals to him and yet, a scared and paranoid side of him only wished nothing changed. 

Hopefully, with time, the more he attended these events, the less it would sting. 

He could get used to it. 

Right?

“Why the fuck does it seem like my boyfriend is wearing a t-shirt that’s too small for him? I can see his fucking tits from here.”

Wooyoung picked up his bottle of water and took a long sip after a chuckle left his mouth.

“He’s getting bulky as fuck.”

“Shit, I know. You should see his thighs…”

Wooyoung giggled now. Even on his worst days, hearing Yeosang spitting the nastiest thoughts about his boyfriend could steal a smile from him. Or two.

Sadly, his gaze wasn’t fixated on Jongho, he was too occupied devouring San’s figure, that was perfectly hugged in all the right places by a uniform that shouldn’t look so sinful. Fuck. He had held onto those shoulders several times, but Wooyoung had never processed how damn broad he was. 

Thinking about the narrow waist that was hidden under the fabric didn’t help at all. 

And when he turned around and his eyes landed on his ass, Wooyoung was close to getting up and running home because he preferred to deal with past demons —a sport he was mastering, nothing new— rather than handle the visceral effect that Choi San had on him. 

Wooyoung bit back a smile when the teams got announced and he heard some people around him screaming San’s name. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a picture of the players getting ready on the field.

“I can’t believe you,” Yeosang giggled right when the match began.

“What?”

“Nothing. I’m relieved to see you having fun .” He elegantly wiggled his eyebrows as he spoke and Wooyoung pushed him. “What? Better you taking pics of the players ,” he purposely remarked the plural, “than having to leave ten minutes into the match because you are feeling triggered.”

Wooyoung pursed his lips and turned his head towards the field again, deciding on taking close ups of the players randomly so he could also have some decent pictures of San. He didn’t want anyone around him seeing him snapping pictures solely of the captain but after watching a few livestreams, Wooyoung was surprisingly giddy in his seat.

Long forgotten was his original fear. 

Nobody was looking at them. Everybody was too caught up in the match to care about Wooyoung’s presence amidst the crowd. 

No.

Scratch that.

Not everybody.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Yeosang chanted beside him as Jongho passed two players that threatened to steal the ball. He kicked it in Yunho’s direction and Wooyoung held his breath. 

This was one of the most famous signature moves of their team —distracting the other team until the real shooter got into his position. In this case, San. Wooyoung hadn’t taken his eyes off him since he saw Jongho passing the ball to Yunho because he knew what was coming. 

The other team seemed to know it too because two players ran towards San but the ball was already flying in his direction. And in the blink of an eye, they scored their first goal. 

San ran across the field to hug Jongho and Yunho and when Jongho turned to the part of the venue where Yeosang and him were seated to look for his boyfriend, San and Wooyoung locked eyes and the ghost of a smirk bloomed on San’s lips.

It was brief. Unnoticeable for anyone that didn’t know the truth. 

But it made his heart jolt.

After that, the rest of the match was like a peaceful walk along the river. Their team defended their position and the others fought fiercely to try to score at least one goal, but towards the end of the second half, Yunho scored another in their favour and Wooyoung knew that it was over. 

He jumped up from his seat when it was official that they won and found himself wrapped in Yeosang’s arms, who was hugging him while jumping with him because if they won one more match, they would be in the university championship. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to leave? I can wait for Jongho here and we’ll see you at home,” Yeosang assured once they were outside. “I don’t want to push you too much with all of this.”

Too excited to comprehend the complexity of the situation that Yeosang was trying to save him from, Wooyoung promised his best friend that he didn’t mind waiting some more minutes until Jongho finally showed up so they all could walk back to their flat and decide what to order for dinner.

Wooyoung regretted not having left sooner when he spotted not one but two people walking in their direction. One was obviously Jongho and the other was someone Wooyoung had learnt how to recognise with lights off.

Shit.

Yeosang threw his arms around Jongho’s shoulders and the player blushed as if they hadn’t been dating for almost a year and a half when Yeosang gave him a peck.

“You smashed it!” 

San chuckled and opened his arms to receive Yeosang’s hug too. 

“Thank you, Yeosangie.”

Jongho leaned towards Wooyoung and pinched the fabric of the sweater he was wearing with two fingers. 

“You look awesome in our colours, Wooyo. Hope to see you in them more often.”

Only then, Wooyoung felt his body relaxing. Was he tense before? 

“I guess I’ll have to keep coming, to see if you keep winning every time I'm here.”

San adjusted his cap on top of his head and Wooyoung finally, finally , tilted his head and stared at him. All words abandoned him within the seconds that it took him to drown more than he should in San’s dark eyes. He felt the urge to step closer and hug him. To congratulate him like he usually did via message. 

But his whole body was paralysed as he looked at him.

“Hey, Wooyoung,” San murmured. “Can’t believe you survived Sangie’s yells. We could hear them from the field.”

Wooyoung barely reacted, a robotic nod the only movement his body seemed to know.

“I had fun anyway.”

What the hell, Wooyoung.

He took a loud deep breath and Yeosang linked his arm with his own with a smile that seemed to be genuine, although he was just trying to cut the awkward conversation and drag him home before he behaved even more like an idiot.

San must think he was stupid.

He couldn’t even hold a cordial conversation. 

Nothing.

Top student. Questionable human.

“Enough slander. I’m hungry. Sorry for kidnapping your flatmate, Sannie,” Yeosang said, referring to Jongho, before smiling wider and turning around to walk away from the venue.

“Bye,” San mumbled and Wooyoung wondered if his heart was meant to crack like that at the sound of San’s defeated voice.

He turned his head one last time, his lips parted, their gazes meeting again.

“N-nice goal,” Wooyoung stuttered and pulled at Yeosang’s arm to walk faster, hoping Jongho would follow them in silence and ask no questions about any of this. 

If this was exactly what he had been asking San to do if they saw each other in public, why did it feel so wrong to leave without holding him first or without dragging him with them? Wooyoung hated how much it felt like a part of his silly heart was left in that venue with him. 

He felt like shit.

Nice goal .

Not even a simple thank you.

Yeosang didn’t lie when he said that San was too good. He had more patience with Wooyoung than Wooyoung had with himself. 

Nice.

Goal.

He clenched his jaw as they walked in silence. 

“You okay?” Yeosang murmured when they were waiting for their lift. 

Wooyoung shrugged and avoided looking at either of them whilst they entered the lift, reached their floor and opened the door. 

“Order whatever you want. I’ll be taking a shower,” was the only thing he said, swiftly and through his teeth, before disappearing inside his bedroom.

*

Messages:

j. woo [23:11]: 

i used the wrong words earlier

i feel honoured knowing your goal was for me

you cherish me so much

and i never understand why

captain sannie [23:12]: 

all of them will be for u if u keep coming

Wooyoung waited to see if San added something else but the dots that indicated that he was writing kept appearing and disappearing until the captain sent a single white heart. Nothing else.

What if he was upset because of him?

Messages:

j. woo [23:14]: 

maybe i could wear your team sweater next time

instead of jongho’s

It didn’t have any name on it and both Jongho and San were bigger than him so nobody would be able to tell if Wooyoung bought a huge size or if he borrowed it from someone else. It was… safe. It didn’t make him feel uneasy. 

Messages:

captain sannie [23:16]: 

would u do that

j. woo [23:16]: 

yeah?

is it bad or

i take it back if you want

captain sannie [23:17]: 

afehfddh no

!!

haha

its just

nothing

you can wear it :)

Wooyoung stared at San’s last message. It had to be one of the first times that he used such a creepy emoji and actually wrote “you” instead of the short version. 

He smiled. San didn’t sound upset.

Messages:

j. woo [23:19]: 

i’m taking your word captain choi

captain sannie [23:23]: 

dw ill give you the sweater next time we meet

thank u for coming to the match woo

fr

He didn’t sound upset at all. 

And Wooyoung couldn’t help but smile at his screen and keep messaging San until he fell asleep.

***

Wooyoung was waiting for Hongjoong, sitting in their regular seats. His friend messaged him fifteen minutes ago to tell him he was running late because his cat knocked over a glass of water and he had to pick up the broken pieces and clean the floor before leaving. Nothing new under the sun considering Hongjoong’s cat was the devil, but a pocketsize version. 

On his way to their class, he grabbed two chai lattes for them. They had promised each other a couple of months ago that they would reduce their consumption of caffeine and so far they had already stopped drinking their regular cup first thing in the morning.

Although when his classmates started gossiping right behind him, Wooyoung wished he was drinking straight up vodka to be able to digest the amount of nonsense he was hearing.

“He’s so extra, please,” one of them said, turning her phone so her group of friends could see the TikTok video too. 

Wooyoung hadn’t seen it but the moment the melody played out loud, he instantly recognised the song — Smoke . San had been obsessed with it lately and he told Wooyoung not too long ago that it kept him motivated when he was doing his workouts.

Which might mean…

“He tries so hard to be The Nice Guy,” another one said.

They giggled. “It’s not like he can try to be the smart guy. Remember when Hana told us that he still had one course from their first year and a few from the second so he wasn’t actually cursing his entire third year?” 

“He’s only good at kicking balls and he’s not even that good at that.”

Wooyoung’s blood ran cold when the first one who showed the video, Dahye, commented between high-pitched and annoying giggles that she bet he wasn’t even good in bed, considering people talked about many football players but never about him.

“Such a shame, though. He’s an idiot but look at that body,” she kept saying.

The worst part of it all was that their entire conversation wasn’t foreign to him; he used to be like that after all —a bitch , cruel, cold-hearted, too arrogant to look at his own flaws. Selfish. Rude. And terribly toxic. 

If he hadn’t grown past all of that, Wooyoung would have likely been sitting with them, instead of sharing the table with Hongjoong. He would be fooling around with San just to get a good fuck and then he would still badmouth him with them. 

He sipped his drink. 

“I just wish someone told him to stop embarrassing himself with all these ‘Go to the gym with me’ videos he’s posting lately. Enough of the Nice Guy energy. Bring back the thirst traps, sir. That’s what you are good at,” Dallia, Dahye’s best friend, commented as she rolled her eyes. 

“I hate to remember he’s gay. Do you think I could try to make him change his mind?” Dahye joked.

Enough.

“Do you always need to be such a pain in the ass?” Wooyoung asked, loud and clear, before he could think twice on what he wanted to say.

The whole group turned to look at him and Wooyoung gripped his plastic cup harder to not spiral and recall all the times he had ended up caught in arguments like this one.

This time it was different, though.

He had snapped because of San, not to make a scene.

“Excuse me?” Dallia raised her eyebrow. “Are we talking to you?”

Wooyoung licked his lips. All his classmates were used to his new self —well-mannered, quiet, focused and perfect student Wooyoung. The only times he got slightly heated was when they were debating interesting topics in class, but it was never serious.

“I bet the whole classroom can hear you so that automatically makes me part of the conversation. And honestly? I didn’t wake up this morning feeling in the mood to talk shit about someone who’s not even here to defend himself.”

What his classmates didn’t know was that underneath all this newborn sweetness aura, there was still a sharp tongue that could slice necks without needing to raise his voice. 

The group gasped and one of the guys, Haru, stepped closer to Wooyoung. 

“Am I smelling a lil’ crush on the football captain, Wooyoungie?”

It was like a switch. One second he was still the new Wooyoung, and the next he was letting the inner demon out to protect the person that had brought so much joy to his life in the past ten months.

A grin curled his lips. “Nah. Just me being bored of all your little chats where all of us have to listen to you tearing apart random people.” He tapped his chin, as if thinking about something. “Guess I’m not handling drinking less caffeine very well. My patience for bullshit is non-existent.”

Dahye stood next to Haru, her arms crossed over her chest.

“You sure you are not doing all of this to see if the football captain pays attention to you?” She cooed with a dramatic pout adorning her mouth. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry to tell you that you are probably just the nerd that lives with the boyfriend of his best friend.”

Wooyoung wheezed. It sucked to still feel thrilled, adrenaline rushing through his body because he had the upper hand even if the rest thought he didn’t. He was never scared of these confrontations, they always were little games to play for him.

Who would have thought he was still unbeatable?

Sipping his drink again, Wooyoung leaned in until he could whisper, “Dahye, you are gonna need to step up the game if you think that’s going to hurt me.”

Especially when I’m spending the evening with San.

“Hope you don’t kill yourself by accidentally biting your poisoned tongue one day.”

He turned around after taking another sip and graciously plopped down next to an equally confused and amused Hongjoong who was already drinking his own chai latte as he shamelessly eavesdropped on the entire conversation. 

The group hadn’t shut up but Wooyoung could tell that they were now too occupied talking about him to remember anything else.

It was a win. 

“You okay?” Hongjoong murmured, apparently nonchalant, but with his eyes fixated on Wooyoung’s trembling hands.

Wooyoung took a deep breath, pressing his hands against his thighs to hide the tremor. 

“Yeah.” He sighed. “It’s been… very long since the last time… I’ll feel better soon. Don’t worry.”

Hongjoong drew a tiny smile, knowing when it was time to drop the topic before Wooyoung huffed and his mood got sour. 

“Wanna see pics of the crime scene?”

“Of course. Let me see Mars causing chaos.”

***

“Don’t you have exams to prepare for or something?” San asked out of the blue after spending thirty minutes listening to Wooyoung explaining to him the content of the exam he’s retaking.

Wooyoung, who had been carefully checking in on San and was used to the other man getting easily restless and losing his focus the moment he stopped understanding something, blinked as he tilted his head in San’s direction.

“What do you mean?”

San groaned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose in that exasperated way that Wooyoung found so endearing.

“You’ve been helping me with this course since before the semester began and the exams are approaching and you are still wasting so much time with this.”

Wooyoung frowned, shifting closer to San and stretching his arm out until his fingers were gently holding San’s chin to make sure that he was looking at him when he spoke.

“Listen, I never waste my time when I’m with you. You’ve been struggling with this course since your first year because the professor is a piece of shit and I happened to have a similar one with that same professor, so I know what type of exams he does and what he values the most. I offered to help you because I wanted to.”

There was some kind of silent agreement between Wooyoung and San —they were all raw honesty when one of them expressed their feelings on any matter. There wasn’t any space for jokes when that happened. In fact, they were very straight-forward most of the time after Wooyoung learnt that San wasn’t keen on the type of sarcasm that only worked as some kind of mechanism to protect hearts and hide real feelings and thoughts. 

Everything got even more serious if it was one of their biggest insecurities they were discussing, like it happened to be with San and his lack of capacity to study anything remotely theoric and dense.

“I feel like I take so much of your time with this and I’m not even sure if I’ll be able to pass the exam.”

Not only was the professor so useless that he hadn’t replied to any of San’s emails requesting to meet to solve some doubts, but he also forced all the students that were retaking his course to risk it all on one single exam divided in two parts.

An exam that wasn’t even at the end of the semester but in the middle of it.

Wooyoung despised him with all his being.

“You take the time I give you. And I also study when I’m with you. There are many other courses that you study by yourself.”

San shrugged. “It’s the second time I’m retaking this one and that’s without counting the others I’m retaking for the first time because I’m so stupid I can’t finish a single year without failing something.”

“San,” Wooyoung murmured, his fingers brushing his cheek. 

“Wooyoung.”

“Don’t you ever say you are stupid again. At least, not in front of me.”

The captain scoffed. “You know it’s not a lie. I’m slow . I get overwhelmed when I study and I can’t stay focused for long. I’m a dumb jock. And it’s not even a secret, everybody knows it.”

The grip on San’s face tightened and Wooyoung’s eyebrows furrowed as he leaned even closer, practically making their noses bump. He couldn’t stop the memories of the argument he had that same morning with his classmates from filling his mind as he stared right into San’s dark eyes.

“People will always talk and they will never be happy with whatever you do, especially when you are popular. But that doesn’t mean everything they say is true,” Wooyoung stated, wondering in which moment in the middle of the conversation he had pushed his laptop aside to get on San’s lap and cradle his face properly. “You are not a dumb jock, though you are insane at any sport.”

San sighed, his palms pressed against Wooyoung’s hands, that were still framing his own face.

“How can you be so wise with all of this?” 

Wooyoung let out a sad chuckle. “Because of all the wrong reasons, but I hate to talk about it.”

San turned his head to kiss Wooyoung’s wrist and the latter reduced the already invisible space between their bodies to slide their lips together in a soft peck. 

“You are amazing, San.”

Wooyoung couldn’t tell what possessed him when his thumbs traced circles across San’s cheek and he beamed, as though their dynamic consisted of sweet kisses and tender caresses. It wasn’t their first time but it wasn’t their norm either, yet it felt so natural regardless.

Since the argument with his classmates, he had been craving this closeness with San, wanting nothing more than bathe him in all the praises those people weren’t saying but San deserved either way.

“Who cares if you take a little bit more time to pass your exams, there are so many other… wonderful things about you.”

So many .

Wooyoung could write a long list of them by heart.

“What if you are just biased?”

Their lips met again. “I am, but I’m still right.”

San beamed against his mouth, his hands trailing up Wooyoung’s arms and falling down his back until they found its place around Wooyoung’s waist. 

Usually, when they got to this point, they either kept talking and pretended the tender moment never happened or they succumbed to their usual heated lust. Nevertheless, that evening was different. 

The line that they carefully traced months ago had been getting blurry lately and Wooyoung suspected that they had erased it completely after those short pecks. The famous wall that was impossible to climb and kept Wooyoung safe had… disappeared.

Or maybe it wasn’t that high anymore.

Or maybe Wooyoung gave San the key between sweet words and subtle caresses and he wasn’t planning on taking it back.

So, instead of pulling back or devouring each other, Wooyoung let their lips dance together again at the same slow pace; having a private waltz of those deep kisses that made the bones tingle and an unknown sensation soar beneath the skin.

“Thank you,” San whispered, their eyes locked after they withdrew to catch their breath. “For helping me and for listening to me and for…”

Wooyoung wasn’t purposely oblivious, he was aware that his feelings for San had been growing incessantly since the first day the captain wished him a good night via message for absolutely no reason, a good amount of months ago. 

He used to have it under control but between their long dinners, their deep conversations and the not-so-subtle way in which they cuddled every damn time they watched a movie together, Wooyoung had forgotten what being careful meant.

And he had needed to attend a match and hear some classmates talking behind San’s back to get the whole freaking picture. 

Although he wasn’t brave enough to put a label on it. To call things by their name.

Not when it was easier to repeat inside his head that San was special.

And because of that, he had to make the effort of going out with him or, at least, start by opening up about his high school years and all the scars they left behind.

“And for…?” Wooyoung repeated, his voice like porcelain.

“Forget it.” San silenced him with another kiss. 

Wooyoung mouthed along San’s jawline, relishing in the warm touch of San’s hands under his hoodie, touching his vertebrae as if they were an instrument he played by muscle memory, pressing all the keys that made the most beautiful melody resonate around the living room.

Even if the only melody filling the room was Wooyoung’s quiet whine when San kissed the base of his neck. 

“You should be studying,” Wooyoung mumbled, offering no resistance when San’s hands pulled at his sweater to peel it off his body along with the t-shirt he was wearing underneath. 

“Do you want me to stop?” 

Wooyoung took San’s glasses off whilst a guilty smile hung from his lips.

“I want to feel you.”

The intimate atmosphere became suffocating after San removed his hoodie and Wooyoung took his hand to lead him to his bedroom, kicking the door closed and crawling on top of him, his legs on both sides of San’s body and his hands on San’s chest.

“I could spend the rest of the day just kissing you,” Wooyoung confessed as he bent down to brush San’s collarbones with his lips. 

He was kissing down San’s chest when he realised that this all consuming craving didn’t come from the same place that their undeniable attraction did. His eyes widened for a split second, his mouth sucking on one of San’s nipples and his body shuddering at the sound of San’s rigged breathing.

Tonight it wasn’t about making San scream his name. He needed the captain drenched in praises dressed as kisses; gasping for air in the deep pool of all the words that never did him justice but that came close to it; drunk on the electricity that Wooyoung felt under his fingertips when he traced his figure and San squirmed under the touch.

He was so stunning like that —devoid of restraints; flushed and vulnerable. 

Pleased to give Wooyoung the world if Wooyoung asked for it.

When stupid, silly Wooyoung felt like his world could currently fit inside his tiny room.

The remaining pieces of clothes were tossed aside after countless kisses and whispers. Wooyoung got lost between San’s legs, his lips stretched around his shaft and his head bobbed as though following the same song that San played on his back earlier, even if the singer now was San, with his low moans. 

Fingers tangled in his long, dark strands and Wooyoung hummed around the length resting on his tongue before kissing the tip and going up again, not interested in teasing him like that. It wasn’t the time.

San’s arm wrapped around his waist and Wooyoung let out a soft giggle when he switched their positions to hover above him. His thumb traced Wooyoung’s parted lips, his jaw and the beginning of his neck under the long stare of Wooyoung himself. 

“You are so fucking beautiful.”

It was addictive to feel someone like that, Wooyoung learnt whilst San was loosening him up, his eyes never leaving the captain’s face, engraving in a very particular corner of his brain how San pursed his lips and seemed to stare at him through his eyelashes when he was focused on making him drown too.

Because that was what San was doing.

He built another damn pool, likely filled to the brim with more words. With more sweet fucking nothings and whatnot. And was dragging Wooyoung to the bottom of it.

Even if he had never breathed so freely before.

“Princess,” San murmured after Wooyoung sank down, sitting on his pelvis and letting their chests meet again.

“Yeah?” 

Neither of them had moved yet.

“I don’t think I’ll last.”

Wooyoung rolled his hips, a weak whimper escaping his mouth at the sensation of San sliding even deeper inside him.

“Me neither.”

Having San roughly pulling his hair and snapping his hips was exhilarating and Wooyoung would always love how out of control the captain looked when they were like that, but the moment their gazes locked as he kept rocking his hips, Wooyoung understood that having sex like this left an imprint that the eye couldn’t see. 

Time slowed down whilst their mouths slotted together.

San pronounced his name softly, barely keeping himself together as he began following Wooyoung’s rhythm, his feet planted on the mattress and his hips thrusting up. His voice was so delicate that Wooyoung almost broke down, the emotions overflowing his entire being and stealing his capacity to voice any of them.

Everything crumbled down the day Wooyoung went to the match and came back home with a hollow ribcage. And his body, unable to handle the new emptiness, had poured all the feelings that Wooyoung had been harbouring all over the place. 

Like an exhibition. 

There were feelings around his bones, inside his veins, digging holes in his skull, causing his skin to break into goosebumps. 

He wasn’t a liar, he only carried too many secrets. And likely, too preoccupied with their relationship and obsessed with keeping it to themselves, away from the public eye, he missed all the alarms that warned him about this.

Everything would be so much easier if his past disappeared.

Wooyoung bet he would have realised all of this was happening way sooner if his memories weren’t holding him back.

“Sannie,” Wooyoung moaned, his voice cracking. “I c-can’t.”

He was so overwhelmed that his legs weren’t even responding anymore, his body like a ragdoll on top of San’s, letting the other man manhandle him until he fell onto the mattress and San thrust back in.

“Better?”

Wooyoung’s arms flew around San’s neck whilst the latter picked up the same pace, their figures tangled in all the ways possible and Wooyoung’s chest heaving in a futile attempt at surviving the tornado of reality that had just ran through him.

When did San become someone so important to him?

“Yeah. God. ‘M close.”

San grinned and one of his arms trailed down Wooyoung’s chest out of habit, because normally when Wooyoung said that, he was subtly inviting San to touch him. Wooyoung’s fingers closed around San’s wrist as he slowly shook his head.

“Don’t wanna come yet. Keep going.”

He was scared of the freefall. 

What would happen when he came down from this high? 

What if everything around him had changed forever?

Wooyoung didn’t want to know yet. 

San stared at him and preventing any possible retort, Wooyoung smashed their mouths together again, with abandon, biting lips and finding his tongue. They moaned in the middle of the kiss and breathed from each other’s mouth before surging forwards again.

The sensations overpowered his perception of the world around him so badly that Wooyoung gasped, surprised, the moment his climax ripped through him. His body shuddered and he hugged San even tighter, not wanting him to stop until he finished too but also not wanting him to go away once he did.

His eyes stayed closed, the fear eating him up whilst he calmed down. 

San’s lips kissed his eyelid and Wooyoung trembled again.

What was he doing? Why was he making it harder?

Lips against the mole under his eye. Lips pressed over the corner of his mouth. 

“You are amazing too, Wooyoung.”

Shit .

It wasn’t supposed to feel so… warm. He was supposed to crash, not to land safely in San’s arms.

His eyes opened and Wooyoung beamed at the sight of the starry night inside San’s.

How was he going to reconcile the part of him that couldn’t handle the idea of destroying his peaceful life and the one that was tired of hiding his relationship with San from everyone else?