on pieces of dyed rays | woosan

Chapter Eight

Few weeks later, Wooyoung misses San's dick.

It's not like he hasn't had dicks since then. He has, on what he classified as okay dicks, which can't be compared to San's. He isn't sure if he's gotten unlucky since San, or if San had his cock spiked with drugs. Wooyoung wonders if someone can get drugged through ass, but if you can take medicine up there, then that shouldn't be an anomaly. Either way, the problem is solved as long as he gets San—yes, it's a hookup, or hookups, because they certainly aren't friends with benefits, but rather gays with great sexual chemistry (San could be bi or whatever, but that's besides the point).

Wooyoung spots him first in the crowd. He doesn't think he's imagining San's looking for him when the man zones out further in the dancing crowd before he turns to the bar, and smiles when he finds him. He looks as sharp as the last time, wearing a khaki suede jacket, simple black turtleneck and black slacks, stunning smile and sharp jawlines, but he doesn't have white bangs but blue this time.

"What do you say, is buying a drink to a familiar pretty face a wrong move?" San initiates cockily.

"I think that's an absolute killer move," Wooyoung replies with an equally cocky smile. "Only, there's a risk of a pretty face having a narrow preference of drinks."

San takes a seat next to him, laughs as he orders. "Sassy Sangria and Blue Margarita, please."

Yeosang takes the order, not forgetting to eye him from head to—wherever the bar counter isn't blocking his view. San probably isn't up Yeosang's alley (he could've been a few months ago, but alas, Yeosang has become a muscle monster) but he gives a hum of approval, clearly intended for Wooyoung to hear.

"Do you have a thing for blue?"

San takes a moment before he understands what Wooyoung is asking. "Ah, my bangs," he says, touching the allocated blue on his hair. "Now that you mentioned it, I guess?"

"Does me wearing a blue skin suit or-" Wooyoung flickers his eyelashes tentatively. "An idea of making out with me in a pool turn you on?"

"Why do you implant such wild images in me?" San chuckles. "Both sound appealing." He admits. "But you don't have to go that far to achieve that goal." He places his hand on Wooyoung's knee, slowly brushing up to his groin, and Wooyoung shudders.

San cocks a smile, seductive, because of course he knows what he is doing. Wooyoung feels an impulse to wipe that smile off, with his lips, knowing San wouldn't mind. Actually, he might even be asking for it. So he leans in, like the impulsive man he is, until his sangria arrives in an aggressive manner than needed. Yeosang's presence isn't an obstruction for Wooyoung, he'd make out in front of him any day with a bgm of his gagging—but he succeeds in cockblocking as San turns to him and thanks him.

He rolls his eyes, almost hearing Yeosang's "het" as he walks away triumphantly.

"So, have you made a change in history yet?" Wooyoung asks, mindlessly twirling the glass of his new drink.

"You mean, fish bread?" San asks and Wooyoung nods. "Yeah, I did."

"Did your life change?"

San tilts his head, and hums in a way that displays 'he is thinking'.

"Well, the sky's still blue, so is the blue margarita." San shakes the glass of his cocktail that Yeosang had just delivered, and it's blue like the name obviously states—brighter than San's dyed bangs, but it matches. "And you're still pretty."

Wooyoung huffs a laugh. "God, you're cheesy."

"Hope you don't mind." San smiles, and Wooyoung, strangely, doesn't mind. "But I've learned something new, and yes, I like that feeling. Also, I get why you like it. It tastes good."