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Yeosang loves San and Wooyoung. He loves them as his best friends, he loves them as the smitten couple they are, and he also loves them with every beat of his heart.

Before Yeosang met Wooyoung he’d have said there’s no such thing as love at first sight and soulmates, but when he saw Wooyoung, with his mismatched eyes and smile that looked as if it’d been carved by Euphrosyne herself, his mind was changed.

From that day forward he suffered from the heart rate increase and sweaty palms that he quickly learned were only attributed to Wooyoung.

Until Wooyoung met San.

When Wooyoung had come home to their shared college apartment after a late night out, all giddy and giggling, Yeosang had gotten the news that he’d been dreading since he first saw Wooyoung across his homeroom.

Wooyoung had met someone. Love at first sight, soulmates.

The green curl of jealousy hung over him like a rain cloud for weeks as Wooyoung and San went on date after date. He tried to be forgiving, it wasn’t Wooyoung’s fault for falling in love, but he couldn’t help wishing it was him that Wooyoung stared at so lovingly. But his vow of hatred for San only lasted as long as it took to meet him. The second Wooyoung had anxiously introduced them, Yeosang felt that same feeling once again. His heart beat so loudly it was like drowning in his own blood.

Yeosang thought it was only possible to love one person… but maybe he was the fool. How could one love a mother or father, a sibling, a friend, a child, and a pet, all at once, and then claim that romantic love was so all consuming that it could only be given to one person. Who had decided that romantic love was capped off and only big enough for one.

How could that be the only possibility when he sat there, real and valid, across from his two best friends who he was relentlessly and hopelessly in love with.

But most people believed in soulmates, only one.

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“Sangie, can you go check us in?” San calls from the trunk of the car, his voice strained with the effort of wrangling Wooyoung’s ginormous suitcase. “It might take us a minute to gather every belonging that Wooyoung owns.”

Yeosang giggles as he slides out of the backseat with his much more appropriately sized luggage.

“Yah!” Wooyoung squawks indignantly. “Sangie, take me with you. Sannie’s being mean.” Wooyoung clings to his arm, shooting him a lethal pout.

“Let go of him. He’s too nice to say no to you and your ass is helping me carry some of these.” San pries Wooyoung’s hands off of him and drops a bag into his arms. Yeosang leaves them to bicker as he wanders towards the gleaming white building that would be their home for the next two weeks.

When Wooyoung and San had first invited him on their vacation he’d been hesitant to accept. Wooyoung had told him all about their plans and they’d sounded like romantic, couple plans, not like plans for a group of friends.

But he was greedy.

He wanted to sunbathe with them, the sun turning San’s skin golden, and he wanted to go to the spa with them, massages pulling sounds out of Wooyoung that he’d only ever heard muffled by their thin walls.

The idea of the vacation sounded about as much fun as torture but he was punishing himself. He was forcing himself to sit through romantic activities with one-sided feelings for those few minutes of sweet delusional joy and fodder for that unrealistic dream that maybe… maybe they wanted him like he so badly wanted them.

The doors slid open smoothly when he neared and he was immediately hit with a blast of cold air. His sweat slick skin cooling rapidly, sending a shiver up his spine. The tall, handsome man behind the front desk smiles at him as he walks closer.

“Checking in?”

Yeosang nods, “Yeah, it’s under Choi San.”

The clicking of his computer keys fades into background noise as Yeosang looks back at the massive grand staircase. Everything is cream on the interior but not in a way that feels boring or clinical. It’s warm and inviting. A long mango colored runner goes up the gleaming stone stairs and lush green plants are scattered around every corner. Yeosang knows it must have been expensive but San had said it was their treat. How could he refuse that?

“Excuse me, sir.” Yeosang turns back to him, his charming smile now soured and apologetic. “There seems to have been an error made when booking the room.”

A lump the size of Antarctica is forming in his throat and the sweat that had dried was now damp on his skin again.

“Oh?” He inquires, hoping to God that the tremor in his voice isn’t noticeable.

“It seems that the original room, booked with two bedrooms, was accidentally put in the system as one bedroom.” The man—Yunho, his name tag reads, gulps visibly. “And, unfortunately, we don’t have any two bedrooms available for the time that you have booked.”

The room spins a bit and he almost wishes that the cream colored tiles would open up and swallow him whole. His breathing is irregular, he knows he must look like a panting dog at this point, but fear and panic were eating him alive, he couldn’t share a bed with Wooyoung and San.

Before he could respond, with what would probably be anxiety-fueled sobs, the couple are joining him, flanking his sides. San must have noticed his shaking hands because he wraps a protective arm around his waist and pulls him closer.

“Is there a problem?” Wooyoung asks as he takes a step closer to the counter.

Yunho chuckles uncomfortably and a bead of sweat rolls down his temple.

“There’s been a mistake with your booking. It seems someone entered it in wrong. We deeply apologize for the error. I’ll upgrade you to a bigger suite. It has a king bed,” he says hopefully, gesturing between the three of them. “It should fit all of you comfortably.”

It’s quiet for a tense moment before Wooyoung’s cackle bounces off of the marbled walls.

“Is that it?” He asks. Yunho nods quickly. “Sangie, it’s okay! It’s not your fault! These things happen.” Wooyoung pokes his cheek and grabs the room keys from Yunho’s outstretched hand, clearly not understanding the gravity of their situation.

Yeosang trails after the couple as they hand off their luggage to a bellhop and then climb the grand staircase. How could they laugh and smile at a time like this? Weren’t they uncomfortable with the idea of sharing a bed with Yeosang on their, already interrupted, romantic vacation?

His thoughts spiral quickly as they navigate the hotel. He doesn’t even realize they’ve arrived at their room until he’s crashing into San’s broad back.

“Woah, careful, sweetheart.” San steadies him and then traces his thumb over his cheekbone. It sends a shiver down his spine and a flush to the tips of his ears. “What were you thinking about?”

San, ever in tune with Yeosang’s emotions, immediately picks up on his lingering anxiety and downward spiral. “You guys really don’t mind sharing a bed with me? For a whole two weeks?” His voice quivers as Wooyoung unlocks the door and pushes it open.

The suite is huge. Dark, shiny wood floors and a matching ceiling with that same warm cream color from the lobby coating the walls in-between with hues of blue and yellow speckled throughout. There’s a large living room and the aforementioned bedroom off to the side.

The bed is large, as Yunho had said it’d be, not just a king size but a California king with plenty of room for him to curl up as far away as possible from the couple. Crisp white sheets and a romantic canopy surrounds it. Images of San’s tanned skin contrasting against the white sheets flicks through his brain and then he pictures Wooyoung standing over him and drawing sound after sound out of him from behind the sheer curtain. He feels his cock filling out so he rips his eyes away from the one, singular, fucking bed.

Wooyoung and San are already making themselves comfortable on the couch, patting the empty space they left between them. It’s for him—it always is.

“What’s bothering you, honey?” Wooyoung coos as he reaches out to tuck the long strands of hair behind his ears. He flushes from the attention and from the topic of conversation. Talking about his feelings has never been an area of strength for him.

“This was supposed to be a romantic couples vacation and you already let me crash it but now I’m ruining it even more,” He grumbles, averting his eyes out of embarrassment.

“You are not ruining anything, right Sannie?” Wooyoung huffs, irritation clear in his voice. Yeosang curses himself for causing more strife for the couple just because he’s feeling anxious.

“Sangie, you could never ruin this. We want you here. It’s still a romantic vacation—or at least we’d like it to be…” San’s eyes are round and he suddenly looks extremely young, like whatever Yeosang says next could break his heart.

The implication confuses him. San and Wooyoung have always been extremely open about their relationship. They’ve gone into rather explicit detail with him about their sexual acts and he’s definitely heard them countless times in their shared apartment, but Yeosang figured they did that with all their friends, that it was some sort of exhibitionism kink or that maybe they were truly oblivious to how loud they could get. So, San's vague statement must just be him reading too much into it. Yeosang has been in love with them for so long but he’s never been delusional enough to think that they could ever love him back. They were already a perfect couple and everyone knew that. Woosan, Wooyoung and San. There’s no room in that for him. He shakes away the tiny voice in his head that begs him to be bold, to say what he wants, but it doesn’t matter what he wants when he’ll never be what they want.

He lets out a strained laugh and removes himself from in-between their warm bodies, putting as much distance as he can between them.

“Right, well I’ll let you get to it then. I’m gonna go down to the beach.” He grabs his swim trunks and towel from his suitcase and scurries out of the room. “Have fun!” He shouts over his shoulder.

The door shuts behind him with a click and then the silent hallway is only filled with his panting breaths and pounding heart.

If he couldn’t hear his heart beating loudly in his ears he would have been certain he’d carved it out and left it in that hotel room, flattened on the floor underneath their feet.

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Wooyoung and San cling to him the entire day despite him trying to give them space to do whatever it is that couples normally do on romantic holidays.

They follow him to the beach, Wooyoung buying him a comically large coconut drink and San offering to rub sunblock into his skin. They book a lunch reservation for three and squish him between them, San grilling the meat and Wooyoung giving him the crispiest bits that he knows Yeosang loves. They even invite him down to the hotel bar where they all indulge in a few drinks.

That’s where he sits, watching them dance together across the room while he sips his drink dry and gnaws on the tiny straw. Wooyoung’s back is pressed to San’s front, his hips swaying sensually as San’s hands grip his hips and sways them to the music. His cock gives a half hearted twitch at the sight. They look gorgeous together, like two sides of a coin, Wooyoung all lithe-limbed and sexy and San broad and achingly adorable.

“That guy fucking your boyfriend or something?”

Yeosang nearly falls out of his seat at the deep voice startling him out of his horny stupor. He tears his eyes away from the couple and turns to face the man behind the bar, thankful for the distraction.

The bartender is tall and the suit that all the employees wear seems to hug his frame perfectly. His jaw is sharp and his eyes are intense but Yeosang gets a sort of goofball energy from him—he’s fucking hot if he’s honest with himself. A glance down at his name tag shows that his name is Mingi.

Briefly, he considers flirting with Mingi but even the thought chips a bit at his already shattered heart. It’s pathetic how much he feels loyalty to two people who see him as nothing more than a friend—a roommate.

“Ah—no. They’re my friends, they’re dating,” He mumbles.

Mingi looks back over Yeosang’s shoulder and then raises an eyebrow. “But you’re in love with one of them, eh?” His tone isn’t judgmental and Yeosang feels weirdly safe sharing with him despite just having met. Maybe he’s just really good at his job or maybe Yeosang has had one too many drinks, but it feels nice to share his thoughts for once.

“Worse,” He groans, burying his face in his hands. “I’m in love with both of them.”

Mingi whistles leaning toward Yeosang and giving his shoulder a squeeze. “That is worse. Have you told them?”

“Absolutely not,” Yeosang laughs bitterly, leaning into the comforting touch of someone who doesn’t make it feel like his skin is on fire. “They’re in love and three’s a crowd.”

The bartender retracts his hand and grabs his glass, pouring him another drink and sliding it across the bar. “It’s on the house, man,” He says gently. Yeosang smiles gratefully at him and takes a slow sip.

They chat for a while, Mingi is funny and he gives good advice. He shares about how he’s in love with someone unavailable too, the man from the front desk whom Mingi explains is his straight best friend. It’s comforting to know that someone else is suffering from a one-sided attraction, just like he is.

The evening dips into night quicker than he realizes, lost in conversation and desperately trying to ignore how his heart tugs for the two men somewhere behind him, until he feels them flanking his sides once again. Mingi has just moved away to help another patron and Yeosang's already missing his company.

“Did you guys have fun dancing?” Yeosang asks happily, the conversation with Mingi lifting his spirits significantly.

“It was fine,” Wooyoung mutters bitterly. San’s eyes are squinted and tracking Mingi’s every movement. “Looks like you were having fun.”

“Yeah, Mingi and I were just talking about that tall guy who messed up our—“

“Do you want to fuck him?” San clips. Their eyes are boring into him, frowns marring their pretty features. If Yeosang didn’t know any better he’d swear that they were jealous but that can’t be right—he must be more drunk than he realized.

Yeosang feels frozen, like a scared bunny trapped between two wolves. He lets out an awkward laugh and waves his hand around. “No…no,” He sputters, their eyes still serious. “I mean… he’s hot but—“

Mingi reappears at possibly the worst moment, a large dopey grin on his face.

“Who’s hot?” He asks, excitedly scouring the bar for some mystery man.

“You, apparently,” San grits through his teeth.

Mingi looks similarly frozen, sensing the obvious tension and flicking concerned eyes from San and Wooyoung to Yeosang. “Hah—what?”

Yeosang scrambles to fix the situation but he can’t wade through his thoughts fast enough to figure out what he’s even fixing. It really seems like San and Wooyoung are jealous but his brain denies that possibility immediately, which doesn't leave him with much to work with.

“I was just explaining to them that I think you’re hot and that’s why we should fuck—“ The silence is deafening as Yeosang mentally curses that third drink Mingi had given him.

Wooyoung’s mouth drops open and San drops the arm that was wrapped around his waist. “No—wait,” He says. “Fuck, I’m too drunk for this.” Three pairs of eyes stare at him as he gathers his thoughts. “Mingi is the very kind and objectively attractive bartender that was telling me about how he’s in love with his friend. I don’t want to sleep with Mingi but I would like to go to sleep because I’m very drunk and this is very confusing,” He rushes out, gesturing exasperatedly between them. “Goodnight Mingi, I hope things work out with Yunho.”

With that, he hops off his stool and pushes past San and Wooyoung.

It takes until he’s staring at the bed to remember the unfortunate situation he’s found himself in. It’s time for bed and he knows Wooyoung and San are going to come into the room any minute now.

Briefly he considers sleeping on the couch but it’s more of a chaise and looks extremely uncomfortable. He sighs as he resigns himself to his fate and changes into his pajamas. He’s just curling up beneath the blankets, as close to the edge of the bed as possible, when he hears the hotel door click and lock behind two pairs of familiar footsteps. He squeezes his eyes shut and pretends to be asleep, not yet ready to discuss whatever just happened down in that bar.

With darkness all around him, the sounds of their shuffling footsteps and giggles seem magnified. Every hair stands on end as he tries to imagine them sending each other those smitten smiles and desperately trying to shush each other so as to not ‘wake him’.

“Young-ah, shh, Sangie is sleeping,” San whispers into the darkness. He hears Wooyoung’s answering giggle and then the rustling of a shirt dropping to the wooden floors. “Stop it,” San scolds, although he hardly says it with conviction.

Yeosang can practically see what’s happening, having been on the other side of Wooyoung’s teasing for years before San was around. He must be a little tipsy and a tipsy Wooyoung meant flirty eyes and pouty lips, an extremely endearing and disarming combination.

In his head he plays it out, them stumbling into the dark room, San trying to respect Yeosang’s sleep because he’s always considerate, Wooyoung sending him that lethal look as he tugs his sheer shirt off, dropping it to the floor like an irresistible invitation. Yeosang knows San can’t resist it, although he can hear him trying, albeit it weakly, at what Yeosang can only imagine is desire personified.

“Youngie, we can’t—,” San whines, his voice trembling.

Another soft thunk of clothing falling to floor before the sound of wet lips smacking against one another. Like Pavlov's dog, Yeosang’s dick twitches to life at the sound of their kissing. He hadn’t meant for it to become a habit but over the years, but his crush had become so debilitating that he allowed himself this one simple pleasure.

It started with just sneaking a few glances at them when they kissed. He figured it was his right since the two were obnoxious about PDA and it was his apartment too, but then it progressed.

The image of them, lips locked and hands roaming, sent tingles up his spine and heat pooling in his gut. It turned him on so much, watching them, listening to them, that he began craving it. He could barely get himself off anymore without pressing his ear to the wall and indulging in the addicting moans and slapping of skin.

Now, his dick was practically trained to fill out at just the faintest sound of their labored breaths and wanton whines. His cock twitches when he feels the mattress dip somewhere behind him, the kissing continuing, now accompanied by what Yeosang assumes is Wooyoung licking and sucking as San’s jaw.

There’s a pitiful whine and then San curses quietly into the tense air. Yeosang nearly tears his lip in half trying to contain his own groan at the sound.

“Shh, Sannie.” The bed creaks and the sheets rustle around behind Yeosang’s back.

“I am being quiet. You’re the one who can’t quit giggling.” The whisper is punctuated with a muffled slap of skin and another giggle that Yeosang could identify as Wooyoung’s from a mile away.

“Sangie sleeps like a rock, it’s fine. Now, just— shit, ah—,” Wooyoung’s moans bounce around the room and a wet squelch has Yeosang’s heart rate skyrocketing. He tightens his fingers in the sheets as he tries to keep his breathing steady, desperately trying not to alert them that he is, in fact, still awake. Wide awake.

The bed shakes as another slap of wet skin rings out. His heart is hammering loudly in his ears now and his cock is so hard, he can feel a wet patch forming at the tip where his cock weeps into his pajama bottoms. He knew sharing a bed with Wooyoung and San was going to be awkward, his monstrous crush on them aside, they were notoriously horny. He knew something like this would happen and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to recover from it.

Guilt had already been plaguing him for months. The knowledge that he’d been listening to them fuck, had been getting off on it, made him feel sick if he thought about it for too long. It sucked that he fell for two people who were happily together but it didn’t give him the right to eavesdrop on their intimate time together without their consent, even if he knew deep down that they couldn’t possibly expect him to not hear when they were hardly quiet.

That was bad enough but laying here awake, without alerting them to that fact, felt like crossing a serious line.

Silently, he curses Yunho for his error, curses whatever god thought it was funny to make him fall in love with his two best friends, and curses himself for how greedy he feels as he allows this to continue.

"Fuck, San-ah, give me another one," Wooyoung's voice is breathy with moans and the wet sound of San inserting another finger into Wooyoung's lube slick hole sends Yeosang reeling. His eyes roll back in his head as he silently pushes his hard cock into his awaiting palm to relieve the pressure from hearing his wettest dream playing out mere inches from him.

A breathy whine falls from Wooyoung’s lips and San’s answering groan sounds like the most beautiful symphony. He wishes he could let his own whimper out but it’d just create dissonance.

“Fuck, San, I’m ready,” He mewls, sounding practically feral just from a few of San’s fingers. He wishes he could turn around and see how Wooyoung looks sinking down onto San’s cock. How pretty his cheeks must look, flushed and tear soaked. “Fuck this is so hot. Do you think Yeosangie can hear us in his dreams?”

San curses and grunts, “Young-ah, shit, if you keep taking like that I’m gonna cum before I even get my dick inside you.”

Yeosang silently agrees with San, his dick leaking heavily into his pants and Wooyoung’s words are only making him more dizzy.

“Do you think he’s hard?” Wooyoung whispers.

San moans wantonly and Yeosang feels his hips twitch with the sound, if only Wooyoung knew just how hard he is.

“Young-ah, please, you feel so good,” San whines, the bed shaking as he thrusts up into Wooyoung’s heat. “God, I want him so bad, Youngie. I want you both—fuck!”

“Yeah? Are you thinking about him right now?” Wooyoung asks coyly.

As subtly as he can, he turns and presses his face into the pillow, a breathy moan escaping his lips and sinking into the feathers.

“What would you do to him, Sannie?” The bed rattles as Wooyoung bounces in a sniveling San’s lap. “Huh? Would you use both of our holes?”

Tears fall down his face and pool on the satin pillowcase. They’re talking about him. He always wondered what their hushed whispers were about, letting his mind run wild, but he’d never expected himself to be a topic of conversation when he’d heard their moans piercing through the drywall. And now that he knows… he’s not sure how much longer he can smother his needy noises. He wants them so badly.

“Or maybe you want him to fuck you?” Wooyoung purrs. “Maybe you want him thrusting into your tight little ass.”

San nearly screams and Yeosang can physically feel the rhythm that Wooyoung is fucking himself in, his own cock throbbing in time with the brutal pace as if his own dick is being used.

“Youngie, h-he’s gonna wake up if you keep doing that,” San pleads.

“I don’t care, fuck, I don’t care anymore,” Wooyoung cries. “I want him to wake up, Sannie. I want to see his face when he catches us. I want to know if he’d blush all pretty and run away. I w-want him,” Wooyoung hiccups, the pace slowing to a sensual grind.

Yeosang feels himself shaking slightly and he curls his fingers tighter into the sheets, his mind warring with itself. He could pretend to be awoken and maybe they'd let him join, make all his dreams come true,but there's a sickly, suffocating doubt creeping up and weighing him down. He can't deny that there's a high possibility that this is all a kink for them. Some silly little role play that they try out but never act upon and maybe he was never meant to know about it.

Acting on it, trying to live out his fantasy, would only bring further pain and devastating rejection. Yeosang didn't think he could live through that. Losing Wooyoung and San for good, even the made up versions of them that love him back, would single-handedly kill him.

So he does nothing.

He doesn't touch himself anymore and he tries not to listen to how beautiful they sound when they cum together and then he swallows down the tears that emerge when San curls around him and snores softly in his ear.

It should take him hours to fall asleep but he's so used to shutting his own feelings down, tucking them away to never be thought of again, that it only takes him a few seconds, lost in their sweet embrace, to fall into a deep sleep.

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Yeosang spends the next few days with the most realistic smile he can create plastered across his face and he does have fun. They swim in the ocean and then read on the beach. They get day drunk and go to the spa and then end every day down in the hotel bar, San and Wooyoung dancing distractingly in front of him while he sits across from Mingi.

Every night, the singular bed stares back at him and every night he gets into his pajamas hoping that there won't be a repeat of the night before, but he's wrong every single time. He's annoyed at this point. He knew that Wooyoung and San were… active, but even in their shared apartment where they had the opportunity to fuck every night, they didn't. But every night of this trip, Yeosang finds himself blue balled and staring at the wall while they enthusiastically fornicate in his proximity.

It's not just that they're having sex every night but its the same thing every time, no matter who's topping or what position they are in— all of which he is intimately familiar with by day 7. A constant stream of imaginary scenarios in which he could catch them. He had assumed that at some point another of their friends would make an appearance, as they are all attractive men and both San and Wooyoung flirt endlessly with all of them, hell, he even half expects Mingi to make an appearance but its always the same. It's always him.

It's frustrating for numerous reasons.

It's frustrating because he's barely slept the last few nights, his ability to shut down his growing feelings nearly impossible at this point. It's frustrating because after that first night they seemed to have grown in confidence that he won't wake up, the sex getting louder and louder to the point that they received a noise complaint from Yunho. And it's frustrating because they don't act any different around him the next day.

The thoughts on that first night, that maybe they wanted him the same way he wanted them, were slowly feeling less and less delusional. Mingi had assured him multiple times that there was no way he was misreading things. He almost felt as if they were trying to wake him up but then the next day they treated him like the best friend that he'd always been. Just a best friend.

"See that's where you're wrong," Mingi reasons, wiping away the sticky liquid coating the bar. "They don't treat you like a friend."

Yeosang snorts into his glass before knocking it back. Wooyoung and San were once again grinding on the dance floor, the view perfectly clear tonight as the bar had an unusually low turn out. Wooyoung meets his eye and stares him down with half-lidded, blown out pupils as San kisses down the column of his throat. He gulps under the intensity of it, his dick already hard in his pants; he's pretty sure he's been hard for a week straight at this point.

"See," Mingi gestures, neither Wooyoung or Yeosang breaking eye contact to acknowledge him. "I don't look at my friends that way."

When San looks up, Yeosang breaks eye contact. "Unless it's Yunho," He retorts.

Mingi shrugs, "Yeah, cause Yunho's not just a friend and neither are you. I have seen every variation of 'fuck me eyes' from behind this bar and trust me—those two want you."

He picks at the label on his bottle, refusing to look Mingi in the eye. Vulnerability is also not one of his strengths.

"I mean at this point I'm pretty confident they want me too but…" His voice trails off, tears threatening to fall and clogging his throat.

"But you don't just want to be their third in a threesome," Mingi finishes. Yeosang lets his head fall between his shoulders.

"I love them," He whispers, wiping a stray tear away before anyone sees it. "And only getting to experience what it's like to be theirs for one night sounds like… torture." He slides off his chair and lays his money down on the counter before Mingi can respond. "Good night, Mingi."

In the time that it takes to get from the bar to the one fucking bed, Yeosang has made up his mind, he's going to leave tomorrow and let them have their romantic holiday for the last week. Being there was only hurting him more and being alone sounded pretty fucking good right now.

For once he actually falls asleep before they come up.

He startles awake with a gasp. He's drenched in sweat and rutting into the mattress to the sound of San whining, louder than he's ever been. Usually Wooyoung was the louder of the two, in every day and in the bedroom, but Wooyoung's voice is merely a whisper as San sobs into the tense air. Despite, being wide awake, his body keeps rutting his hips into the mattress as if he no longer controls them. He tries to stop but he's so hard and he's been so pent up that he doesn't even want stop himself.

Embarrassment and humiliation consume him but that also feels good. He strains his ears to listen to what Wooyoung is whispering in San's ear as he rocks steadily into the wailing man.

"Fuck, he's hard Sannie," Wooyoung coos. "He heard the pretty sounds you're making and he just can't help himself, even in his sleep." San mewls, his fingers tugging at the sheets so hard that Yeosang can feel them shift below his hips.

Wooyoung's right, San's pretty sounds had turned him on so much that he was grinding against the bed wishing it was his warm walls sucking him in rather than the soft hotel sheets. He's awake but he almost feels drunk despite having only had a single drink that night. The haze of waking up to San's sweet sounds combined with Wooyoung's filthy mouth is making him lose the carefully crafted control that he's had over himself for the whole 10 years of friendship. His hips press down more harshly, his mind slipping into a heady state of arousal, just the pure primal desperation to cum at the forefront.

A debauched moan rings out into the air, but this time it's not San, it's him.

"Oh fuck!" Wooyoung grunts, a harsh smack of his hips against San's ass sounding in response to his moan. "God, you both sound so good. Shit, San." San moans even louder before it's muffled beneath Wooyoung's hand. "Shh, baby, I think he's waking up."

If he was less touch starved and desperate he'd make a different choice, but he's so tired of pretending. If they only wanted him for one night, then he'd have the best night of his life and deal with the consequences tomorrow on the flight home. There was no going back to being friends but fuck, they're worth the risk.

The sheets shift around his lower half as he turns to face them, to see what he's been imagining for years. They're pressed together, San's knees pushed into the mattress on either side of his head and Wooyoung is thrusting deep and hard into him. They're staring at him, panic blowing their eyes wide and slowing Wooyoung's thrusts into a deep grind that has San biting his lip to hold back another wanton whimper.

"Is it how you imagined it?" Yeosang hears himself whisper into the deafening silence. They don't answer, a look exchanged between them. "Because you look like a dream to me, my imagination pales in comparison to actually seeing you like this." He's not sure where the confidence is coming from but it's too late to pretend that this isn't happening.

"Sangie—," Wooyoung says so quietly that Yeosang almost doesn't hear it.

"Did you mean it?" He asks.

"Mean what, honey?" Wooyoung continues. San is red in the face and barely hanging on.

"That you wanted me."

San lets out a breath that's somewhere between a sigh of relief and a whimper. "Fuck, Sangie, please," He reaches for him, tears sliding down his ruddy face.

Yeosang looks Wooyoung in the eye, sure to get consent from both of them, but Wooyoung is reaching for him too. He pulls out of San and then grabs Yeosang by the back of the neck, tugging him into their orbit.

Kissing Wooyoung is everything.

Every hope and dream he'd had since high school was shattered by the real thing. Wooyoung kissed as strongly as he loved. Every press of their lips and swipe of their tongues feels like he's branding Yeosang, like his kiss could reach into him and change his very DNA. Yeosang lets Wooyoung take, lets him trace his lips and lick his soft pallet, pliant in his bruising grip. Wooyoung's hand slips from the back of his neck into the tufts of hair at his nape, tugging his head back and rising up onto his knees to hover over him, to claim him more thoroughly.

Yeosang moans into his open mouth, too content to drown in Wooyoung's love, too prepared to stop breathing if the reward is Wooyoung's sweet mouth on his own. He tries to keep up, to breath harshly though his nose so that they don't have to part but Wooyoung eventually withdraws, a string of saliva the only evidence that their lips had touched. He immediately follows Wooyoung's addicting mouth, desperate to give him more, but Wooyoung stops him and he positively throws a fit. A whine falls out of his mouth before he can think about how pathetic he must sound.

"Slow down, honey, we have all night," Wooyoung coos, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "We're not going anywhere."

Yeosang tries to push the thoughts away that creep into his head, an alarm bell reminding him that they only had one night, one night and it was over. He huffs at Wooyoung and turns to San to show his protest, he needed to make this one night count, slow was out of the question.

Kissing San was different. Where Wooyoung had been insistent and passionate, San was shy and needy. He pulls Yeosang down, his hands bracketing San against the mattress as he presses their lips together. Wooyoung had molded Yeosang like clay, licking into him and barely allowing a separation whereas San pulls back after nearly every press, mewls and whimpers streaming out of his rosy lips. He lets Yeosang deepen the kiss, lets Yeosang map out his mouth with only kittenish licks in return. Wooyoung is a fiery desire and San is sweet devotion, both equally addicting. Yeosang's head spins as he pulls back and lets spit drip off his tongue into San's awaiting mouth.

"Fuck, that's so hot, you look so good together," Wooyoung moans from San's side, his hand stroking himself as he watches them.

Yeosang worried that there might be jealousy between them as they all took turns licking into each other's mouths and tugging off his pajamas, their combined saliva dripping down their chins, but Yeosang doesn't feel it. As he watches Wooyoung and San twirl their tongues together the only thing he feels is hot arousal coursing through his gut. But he's getting antsy, he wants more. San's hole is still gaping from where Wooyoung's thick cock had previously been stretching him open, dripping slippery lube onto the sheets as his hole clenches with every swipe of Wooyoung's tongue in his mouth and every touch of Yeosang's fingers on his nipples. He knows San's just as desperate as he is to be filled but before he can pathetically beg Wooyoung to be allowed to press his hard on into San's wet heat, Wooyoung is tugging him closer.

"Do you wanna fuck him baby?" Wooyoung purrs, a knowing smirk on his lips and dark desire pooling in his uneven eyes. San keens and widens his legs further, presenting his hole for them like a cat in heat. Yeosang nods rapidly, his dick twitching with excitement. "Go on, darling."

Yeosang switches spots with Wooyoung, settling between San's open legs. His hands are shaking as they skate over the underside of San's plush thighs. San shivers at the touch, squirming under the soft caress, but he doesn't rush him which Yeosang is silently thankful for. He needs a moment to process the expanse of rosy flush on golden skin laid out before him and the warm presence of security and care draped over him. Wooyoung wraps him in his arms from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder as he often did, only this time his lips are pressed to Yeosang's neck, licks and nibbles up to his ear and down to his collarbones, endlessly patient but still craving.

"Doing such a good job, Sangie," Wooyoung presses the words into his skin like he hopes they'll stick. "Being so good for us." The praise lights Yeosang up and he can't contain the pleasured sigh that leaves him, taking with it the previous nervousness. Wooyoung has always known how to calm him down, even when he himself hasn't realized he needs it. "Can I mark you up?" His cock twitches against San's thigh, smearing precum on his skin.

"God, yes, please Youngie," He mewls, tilting his head to the side and giving himself up to the man who has always taken care of him. San watches them with a soft look that Yeosang has only ever seen directed at Wooyoung, melting his features into a gooey smile. He's looking at both of them, his eyes flicking between where Wooyoung is latched onto his throat and Yeosang's eyes.

"You're so beautiful," He murmurs, Yeosang's heart stuttering with every word. The sweet reverance that San is piercing him with sending his mind spiralling, his brain begging him to remember that this is just sex, this is just one night in one bed, that they don't love him. He sends San a smile that he hopes is convincing as Wooyoung finally lets go, licking over the bite to soothe the pain, but Yeosang barely feels it. No physical pain could usurp the way his soul feels like it's been torn in half just to allow himself a fading pleasure.

Wooyoung presses his lips to his ear again, "Go ahead, baby, he's ready for you." Yeosang nods, pushing his thoughts to the back of his mind, allowing only desire to control him as he sinks into San's heat.

"N-ngh, fuck, you feel so good, San-ah," He grunts as he bottoms out, holding himself steady to let San adjust, but San is already moaning and trying to fuck himself down onto Yeosang's cock. Wooyoung giggles from behind him, reaching for something just out of his eye line.

"He gets a little squirmy when he's needy," Wooyoung snickers, the distinct sound of a bottle popping open. "You can slap him around a bit if he gets too desperate, he likes it." Yeosang nearly chokes at the thought of San's thighs covered in the red shadow of his hands. He curses beneath his breath as he pushes San's hips down into the mattress, restricting his desperate thrusts. "Can I prep you, darling?" Wooyoung rubs lube between his cheeks, rubbing his fingers deliberatley over his hole. Yeosang squeaks at the feeling, his cock jumping inside of San.

"Y-Yes but…" Yeosang pauses, biting his lip raw as he tries to form thoughts while San's hole tightens around him. "Just go slow, I've—I-I've never—" He stutters, embarrassment causing him to flush down to his chest. Wooyoung sucks in a sharp breath.

"Yeosang, are you… are you a virgin?" He says with a hush, like if he says it too loud Yeosang might run off scared.

"No," He rushes out. "No, I've had sex before but I've never bottomed." The room is silent, a look exchanged between the couple over his shoulder. The sense of dread creeps in and he's desperate to clear the air, even if it's only one night, he wants to be honest.

"I wanted you to be the first."

The air crackles with tension, a stagnant pause broken by Wooyoung's forehead dropping to his shoulder and a possessive arm pulling him tightly against his body.

"Yeosang, I-I—" Wooyoung's voice sounds broken, voice cracked and filled with the syrupy sign of tears clogging his throat. Yeosang holds his breath, unsure of wheather or not he just ruined everything. "I lo—"

"Wooyoung," San interrupts, voice surprisingly stern compared to the submissive whines that he'd let out only minutes earlier. They communicate over his shoulder again before he feels Wooyoung stroke over his hole again causing him to shake in his arms. The tense air disipating.

"I'll take such good care of you, baby." He says with so much conviction that Yeosang feels the tension seep out of his muscles, relaxing for the slow intrusion. "I'll be so careful with you, I promise." Whispers of veneration like honey on his lips.

San pulls him down and kisses him hungrily as Wooyoung pushes one finger slowly in and out of him, each push allowing his finger to sink deeper. San's patient with him despite his earlier desperation, distracting him from the slight stretch and pain as Wooyoung adds more lube and then eases in a second finger.

"Taking it so well, Sangie," San says between wet presses of their lips, his hands touching him everywhere. They're in his hair, tugging slightly to hear his pained groan, on his pert nipples, across his back. Yeosang feels them everywhere, both of them. He's completely shrouded in their embrace, consumed by them wholly and he's never felt more satisfied. This is where he's meant to be, his mind chants like a prayer.

It's like his brain has shut off as he gives himself to them, lets their hands guide him and hold him together before breaking him apart in pleasure. Moans and whimpers stream out of him as San worships his body and Wooyoung presses in a third finger, his hole opening easily for him, like it knows that Wooyoung is safe.

"You sound so pretty, honey," Wooyoung praises, three fingers pulling at his walls as if searching for something and then his middle finger brushes something that has Yeosang nearly blacking out, stars bursting behind his eyelids and causing his whole body to tremble. He jerks harshly into San, desperate to chase the feeling. San tosses his head back and wails.

"Sangie, again, again, please," He begs, tears lining his lashes. Yeosang doesn't think he's ever seen San look as beautiful as he does with tears in his eyes and speared on his cock. He pulls out and thrusts back in as Wooyoung mimics him, stabbing that bundle of nerves again. It's so much, pleasure all around him, when he pulls back Wooyoung thrusts his fingers in and when he plunges into San his walls squeeze around him, tight and hot. It's mind-numbing, addicting, but he still needs more. He needs to feel Wooyoung's thick, veiny cock pushing into him and finally claiming him fully.

"Wooyoungie," He cries, causing the younger man to halt his brutal pace. "M-more, need more, wan' your cock." Wooyoung groans, squeezing his hip so hard that Yeosang is sure his fingerprints will be their in the morning. The thought thrills him, having proof that this happened, that they wanted him. He presses back, his ass meeting Wooyoung's erection and grinding against the hardness.

Slowly, Wooyoung lines up his cock with his hole and presses in. The stretch hurts but Yeosang finds he likes the tingling sensation of his body accommodating Wooyoung. San whines beneath him as he's stopped his harsh thrusts and instead holds still while Wooyoung sinks in. He writhes below him, tugging on his hips to try and get him to resume his pace. Yeosang grunts at him, as Wooyoung presses fully in. He feels so full, like Wooyoung is in his guts, carving out a place that only he and San could ever fill. It's overwhelming in the best possible way, he feels owned, desired, wanted, loved. The thought brings tears to his eyes which Wooyoung leans over his shoulder and licks off of his cheeks. He squeals at the sensation but secretly basks in the attention.

"You okay, baby? It doesn't hurt too much?" Wooyoung asks, concern evident beneath his blown out pupils. Yeosang nods rapidly but Wooyoung isn't satisfied. "Words, Sangie. I need to know that you're okay."

Yeosang sighs and leans in to peck his lips, "I'm perfect, Wooyoungie. You feel perfect."

They share a few more kisses, trust and devotion pressed into each other's mouths with sweet swipes of tongues. Yeosang thinks he could die happy, gaped open on Wooyoung's cock and sucking on his tongue, but San has other plans, he thrusts down onto Yeosang, his previous patience warn thin. Yeosang curses at the onslaught of pleasure he feels, pressed between the two men he loves as they use him. He pulls back from Wooyoung's lips, letting his gaze cut across to San's pathetic, nearly crossed eyes. He scoffs and then slaps a hand down onto his thigh, the sound ringing out in the otherwise quiet room. San's pupils blow wide and Wooyoung bites down on this shoulder, grinding his dick appreciatively into him.

"Behave," Yeosang snaps, another slap landing on his other thigh as he fucks back into him. "What happened to all that patience, San-ah?" He jeers. Wooyoung giggles in his ear, staring down at San from over Yeosang's shoulder.

"See I told you he likes it, look at how wet he is," Wooyoung sighs fondly, steadily picking up his own pace, using Yeosang's hole. "Do you want it harder, Sannie? Want our Yeosangie to fill you up?" He croons, pushing Yeosang to hover over San more fully, allowing him more room to fuck into his heat. San wails beneath them, unable to squirm now with the weight of them pressing him down.

Our Yeosangie. He practically shuts down, as those sweet words and the image of his cum dripping out of San's pink hole ruins him for anyone else. This is it for him, no one else can compare.

All Yeosang can do now is take it, trapped between them, pliant, as Wooyoung uses him so brutally that his thrusts power Yeosang's own, fucking both him and San with ease. Yeosang busies himself with sucking and licking marks into San's skin as they both whine for Wooyoung, filth spilling from Wooyoung's lips as he takes them both.

"Look at my good boys, taking me so well," Wooyoung gropes San's chest, tweaking a nipple and pounding into Yeosang's prostate. They moan together, their lips finding each other as Wooyoung takes care of them. "So pretty together, fuck, my sweet angels letting me use them. My two pretty little holes," He punctuates the dirty words with a lubed up finger, prodding at San's stuffed and stretched rim. San squeezes around his cock so tightly he fears he might never be able to pull out, and moans wantonly into Yeosang's mouth. "Relax, open up for me," Wooyoung sneers, thrusting harshly into Yeosang which presses his cock into San's throbbing prostate. "C'mon I know you can take more."

San cries and babbles, scratching at Yeosang's back and panting into his chest. Yeosang moans as he feels Wooyoung bully a finger into San's heat alongside his cock. He's ridiculously close to his peak, dangling over the edge as San twitches around the additional intrusion, practically milking him to release.

"That's it, good boy," Wooyoung coos.

Yeosang tries to hold on, not ready for it to be over yet but he's so pent up that he can't hold back. Sweat slides down his chest, dripping onto San's taut stomach and that sight is what does him in. With the addition of Wooyoung's finger, his cock has indented San's perfect tummy, a small bulge that moves with him as he grinds in deeper. The image is obscene, short-circuiting his brain and filling him with a primal desire to—to what he's not sure, not until Wooyoung opens his crude mouth, hot breath against his ear for just them to hear.

"Wouldn't he look so good pregnant with your baby, Sangie."

The world stops spinning and cracks down the middle as he screams. The next door neighbor is going to complain again but he doesn't care because he's blinded by the white hot gush of desire that courses through him as he takes control of his hips once more, fucking into San without care. Suddenly it's as if he's regressed a million years and his only focus is a primal need, to take and fill and claim. He nearly growls as he shoves his cock as deep into San as he can, his hand pressing down onto the bulge he created. The tantalizing thoughts of fucking him so good that he becomes round with Yeosang's babies, that small bulge growing from how well bred he is, swirling in his pleasure fueled haze.

He's gasping for breath over San's limp body, sprays of cum from San's cock spurting onto his chest, but his ears are ringing so loudly that he can't even hear his sweet cries as he cums. He collapses onto San's sticky chest as Wooyoung pulls his finger free gripping his hips harshly as he continues to use him. They whimper below him as his thrusts push them into overstimulation, but their weak cries just seem to spur him on more, and he'd be lying if he said it didn't feel incredible to be used so completely. Another spurt of cum paints San's insides and elicits a groan from the man. As they both come down from their orgasms, San sneaks a hand between their bodies, tangling their fingers together where his hand still laid protectively over the cum inflated bulge.

The noise in the room slowly comes back into focus as his orgasm passes, just in time to hear Wooyoung's desperate release.

"Fuck, mine, you're mine," He claws at Yeosang's hips as he continues to babble and weakly grind his cum into Yeosang's ass. "Mine, ours, Sangie." Yeosang sighs happily, so content and satiated that he doesn't realize how his eyelids have drooped close, flickering between awake and asleep, until he feels Wooyoung's fingers in his hair. "Sleep, honey, we'll take care of you."

Sleep lags any logical thoughts and makes him more honest. "Forever?" He murmurs, rubbing his cheek over where San's heart beats steadily in his chest.

"Forever, I promise."

It's not true, he knows it's not but the conviction is enough to ease his tired mind into a deep sleep, safely in San's arms.

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

The cool ocean air washes over his skin, coaxing him awake. Birds sing quietly outside the open window, the fresh air wafting the scent of sex and what Yeosang quietly accepts is regret out of the room. He wants to be angry, to lash out at Wooyoung and San for what happened last night, but the only person he can find himself being cross with is himself.

The consequences of his own actions staring at him like an ugly reflection. Nobody had forced him to do something he didn't want to do, but his conscious can't help saying 'I told you so' as he rolls over, hoping to come in contact with San or Wooyoung's sleeping body. The bed is empty and the sheets are cold, they're not even the same sheets from the previous night, coated in their sweat and cum, they're fresh and clean almost convincing him that the whole thing had been some very realistic dream. But when he moves to get up his ass throbs a bit and he sucks in a sharp breath at the ache. Nope, it definitely happened, and he definitely ruined their friendship and possibly his best friends' relationship.

The guilt and regret is so strong that he's on his feet and rushing to the bathroom, nausea churning in his stomach. He throws the door open, the panic and urgency clouding his judgment and causing him to miss the light spilling out from underneath the door or the sound of running water.

San nearly screams and jolts when the door smacks the lip of the sink, his body crouched over the rapidly filling tub, steam swirling around him. Yeosang winces, not ready to see them yet, but San is already hurrying over to him, taking in his clammy skin and pale complexion.

"Sangie! Are you alright? You look like you're going to be sick," He worries, ushering him to the closed toilet and helping him sit down on shaky legs. He hovers over him, looking towards the still open bathroom door as if hoping help will arrive, ah, he's looking for Wooyoung. The steaming bath is probably for him and Yeosang has just wandered in and crashed San's romantic gesture.

"I'm alright, San, I'm s-sorry, I'll get out of your hair," He mumbles as he gets up unsteadily and tries to slip out of the door before Wooyoung arrives. He's too late. Wooyoung is at the door in seconds, the hotel room phone clutched in his hands.

"What happened? What's wrong?" He rushes in, setting the phone on the counter and immediately pressing his hands to Yeosang's flushed cheeks. "Sangie, are you sick?" He looks at San accusingly. "What did you do?"

San scoffs and raises his hands in surrender. "I didn't do anything, Young-ah. He came into the bathroom suddenly and scared the hell out of me. I thought he was going to collapse."

Another wave of nausea rolls over him at their arguing. You caused this. They're fighting because of you. He moves out of Wooyoung's hold and presses the heel of his hand harshly into his forehead, his eyes squeezing shut desperately attempting to hold back the tears threatening to bubble over.

"Shit, Sangie, don't cry." Wooyoung reaches out to wipe away the stray tear rolling down his cheek. Before he can press his fingers into his skin Yeosang smacks his hand away and openly sobs. He's never refused Wooyoung's touch like that before, he moans and groans when he presses wet kisses to his cheeks but it's always light-hearted, this feels different. Wooyoung's face crumbles in devastating rejection and the sight only makes Yeosang cry harder, snot and salty tears mixing on his skin as he gasps for air. "Oh god, I hurt you, didn't I? I was too rough with you last night. Fuck—" Wooyoung panics and he's crying now too, turning to San with a guilty expression that rivals his own. "I knew it should have been you, San. I told you, I'm too much, I'm not gentle like you are. I've ruined everything." He folds into San, tears soaking his shirt as San hushes him and strokes his back.

It's confusing. San and Wooyoung were just fighting because of him. They were probably about to break up because he came between them but now they were comforting each other. And they acknowledged what happened the night before like it wasn't some secret they would all have to hide if they wanted to remain friends. And Wooyoung is crying, he made Wooyoung cry. He's held a broken hearted Wooyoung a hundred times before San entered the picture. When shitty guys would break his heart, Yeosang would be there to wipe his tears and hold him close and every time he swore that if he were ever afforded the privilege to love Wooyoung like those fools were, that he would never hurt him. But Wooyoung is crying, just like he did when those idiots hurt him, except he's the idiot and he doesn't even know what he did.

"Y-You didn't hurt me," Yeosang cries, reaching out for them. "I hurt me."

Both of their heads snap up to him, confusion, much like his own, marring their pretty features. Wooyoung pulls out of his hiding place against San's chest and hesitantly reaches for Yeosang, fear of being rejected once again clear on his face, but Yeosang lets him. He lets Wooyoung pull him into San's arms, both of them hiding in his embrace like he'd protect them from anything, he probably would.

"What do you mean, Sang-ah?" It's San's gentle voice that sends them all sinking to the floor, him and Wooyoung curled on either side of San as he gently strokes his fingers through both of their hair.

"I don't really know where to start," He confesses quietly, the conversation too delicate to speak about loudly.

"From the beginning."

The years of hiding melt away on those heated bathroom tiles as he explains everything. He tells them about how he fell for Wooyoung and he expects San to be upset but he just nods encouragingly for him to continue. He tells them about how jealous he was when he first realized that Wooyoung's new boyfriend seemed like he was going to stick but how it only lasted as long as it took to meet San and that he quickly fell for him too. Tears stream down his cheeks as he relives every confusing, conflicting emotion he'd had as he realized he loved two people and that those two people could never be his.

With every sin that he lays bare to them, he expects them to stop him, to tell him to get out, but they look calm. They accept him so willingly and don't speak until he's hiccuping on his sobs.

"So, when he said there was only one bed, I panicked. I didn't think I could hold back my feelings any longer a-and I was right because now I'm making a fool of myself in front of you and I know, I know, that going back to friends is going to be difficult after everything but, please," He begs, finally meeting their eyes. "Please don't leave me." He finishes with a loud sniffle, squirming under their intense gazes.

The couple looks at each other, a silent conversation that only takes seconds passes between them and then Wooyoung is taking his shaking hand in his own steady palm.

"I love you, Sangie," Wooyoung whispers, squeezing his hand and then pressing a kiss to it.

"We love you," San gushes, brushing a stray piece of hair behind his ear and then swiping his thumb beneath his eye, wiping away the tears.

The room is ringing so loudly like it's crawling with cicadas and the steam from the bath feels suffocating. He wants to believe them but it doesn't feel real, he can't take the last ten years and make it fit into the picture that they're creating.

"No," He says, and pushes up out of their arms, sure that some physical distance between them will allow his brain to not misunderstand what they're saying to him. "No, you don't."

San looks exasperated, frustrated tears welling up in his eyes. All three of them have tear stains on their cheeks now.

"Yes, we do, Yeosang. We love you—we've loved you for years," He argued, Wooyoung silently weeping beside him. He's unusually quiet as San's voice raises.

"As friends," Yeosang supplies, bumping into the wall, nowhere left for him to go.

"No, Sang-ah," San's voice cracks, like continuing to explain it is physically hurting him. "How can you not see it?" The question isn't accusatory, it's despairing.

He shakes his head, a headache blooming behind his eye as he tries to argue with a part of him that has been so resigned to accepting that they would never be together. The part of him that continues to berate and reject the taboo idea throwing a fit at the moral injury.

Two people in a couple; soulmates, only one.

"I-I haven't seen—" He tries to continue to argue but it sounds weak even to his own ear.

“Haven’t seen it, Yeosangie? Haven’t we shown you?” He says with tears streaming down his face, his words pushed through a pout. “Didn’t you notice that I always make enough coffee for all three of us because you’ll never ask for any but I know you want some. Or that Wooyoungie sometimes sleeps in your bed? He says it’s cause I snore—“

“You do,” Wooyoung sniffles, a wet laugh caught in his throat.

“But it’s really because he misses you and he wants to hold you. And—and sometimes I wish I could be in there too. I lay in bed and instead of being jealous that my boyfriend is cuddled up with another man, I’m jealous because I’m not there. I’m upset that I can’t wrap my arms around you too. It’s so unfair that we can’t have you. Why won’t you let us, Sangie? Please let us.” His words trail off into a desperate whisper, a plea.

"B-But, the bath, I interrupted your whole romantic vacation and your romantic morning after getting to live out your fantasy. There's not enough room in your relationship for me," He fights, stubborn until the end. San and Wooyoung glance at each other, another tear filled chuckle exchanged between them. "Don't laugh at me," He whines.

San shakes his head and beckons him back into his arms. Yeosang scoots closer, his body drawn to them even when uncertainty clouds his mind.

"We're not laughing at you, baby. We're laughing because we've gone about this all wrong," San assures.

"We should have been more honest with you," Wooyoung adds.

San nods, pressing his thumb into Yeosang's eyebrow and smoothing it out, easing his headache with gentle hands. "So, maybe we need to start with more honesty and communication. The bath was for you because you fell asleep last night and while we did our best to clean you up, we figured you may still feel a bit gross and sore, especially since it was your first time bottoming."

"And I was on the phone trying to order room service for all of us—shit, the phone!" Wooyoung jumps up off the floor and grabs the abandoned phone. "Hello?"

"Oh my god, it worked! The one bed trope actually worked!" Yunho squeals on the other line. "I knew you three were destined to be together! Mingi keeps telling me that I shouldn't meddle in other people's relationships but—"

Wooyoung hangs up before he can finish, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. San snickers first and then they are all laughing at the absurdity of it. They exchange more warm smiles and giggles as San helps Yeosang into the tub and Wooyoung goes to call Yunho back and finish ordering their breakfast. It's quiet for a bit, a pleasant lull full of comfort as San massages the rose scented shampoo into his hair.

"San?" He asks, the younger man humming in encouragement. "You're really okay with me loving you and Wooyoung?"

San's quiet for only a moment. "Yes," He says and his voice is steeped in affection. It's a simple answer but it's not unconvincing.

"Isn't—Isn't that wrong?" He asks, shame refusing to release its protective grip on Yeosang.

"What would ever be wrong about loving more people?" San whispers, pouring warm water over his hair with the utmost care, intent on not letting even a drop get in his eyes.

"Don't you feel jealous or like you're cheating on Wooyoung when we're like this?"

"No," San murmurs, with a gentle kiss pressed against his birthmark. "Because I do not fear losing Wooyoung when I'm with you, I don't worry that when you're with Wooyoung that it's because I'm not good enough, and I don't resent having another incredibly kind and thoughtful person making Wooyoung happy. I thought that I would only ever want and love one person so deeply but I will never regret making room for two. Love isn't quantifiable, Sangie, it's just a feeling."

Yeosang doesn't answer because he doesn't have anything to say. For once his brain seems to accept that answer. He feels rational again, like he's returned to equilibrium. His head and his heart no longer warring with the morality of his feelings. Feelings didn't need to be judged or measured.

Soulmates can be anyone, not just one.