SING ME TO SLEEP, woosan

63

wooyoung's compulsive gaze lingers by the bottle of hair bleach in his bathroom cupboard.

perhaps it's san's influence toying at the strings of wooyoung's impulses that, eventually, after moments of contemplation, urges him to rashly reach out for the black, cylinder-shaped bottle, and slam the cupboard shut.

san's involuntary doing or not, wooyoung wants a change. he stares into his reflection and, watching himself sweep a hand through the dark, damp hair starting to curl by his ears, he sighs. no — wooyoung needs a change. and badly.

"sannie?" wooyoung peeks his head through the bathroom door to find san by a mirror — his mirror. something about it makes wooyoung feel tingly inside, seeing san use his things, in his room, in his home. it's a good tingly, he's sure of, because he likes it. he likes seeing san treat the dorm like his own.

san glances up at wooyoung, a smile instantly broadening his features at the younger's calling. he mindlessly lets the eyeshadow brush in his grip topple down to the dresser, as if wooyoung disrupting his makeup is his version of true happiness. san's hand reaches out in wooyoung's direction, who receives the endearing gesture as a plead to come closer. and so, he does, quietly nearing the latter, a bashful look accompanying his features when san pats his thigh.

his fingers clasping onto san's shoulders, wooyoung swings a leg over san's. sitting himself atop of san's lap, he very fiercely feels a layer of red warmth annihilate his cheeks, but honestly: what's new?

hugging wooyoung's waist, san's spare hand reaches for his jaw. he strokes the bone gently, like he's fascinated by the touch. "you're so pretty."

the praise sends wooyoung's mind absolutely haywire. he's just got out of the shower, the most he's done so far is moisturise his face, and here san is, treating him like some enchanting princess from a fairytale. "you're so pretty," wooyoung counterattacks, despite how he craves to do much more with his mouth. "especially like what you've done with your eyes. you're totally gonna be the hottest there, sannie."

"second hottest, maybe," san mumbles, pressing a slow kiss to wooyoung's lips. "no one beats you, sweetheart."

regardless of his disagreement, wooyoung tilts his head and softly returns san's kiss. he can taste hints of the raspberry-flavoured yoghurt san ate for breakfast earlier that day. unlike any other day, wooyoung is quick to break away, yet he doesn't pull back just yet, blurting out against san's lips, "can you dye my hair?"

eyes widening, san blinks repeatedly. "what?"

"dye my hair please?" wooyoung asks again, biting his lip hesitantly. "i already have, like, the bleach and stu—"

"you want me to dye your hair? me, being unskilled and just, well, pure stupid?!" san laughs incredulously, as if wooyoung is merely telling a joke.

"i mean— you don't seem unskilled or stupid to me, sannie, so... yeah. yeah, that's what i want."

san's jaw drops the slightest bit, and he just stares at wooyoung, who accompanies the silence with straightening the hair by san's nape. "you're deranged, wooyo," san eventually comments. "keep this up and next you're going to be asking me to chop your arm off," he says, the drama queen he is, helping wooyoung out of his lap, regardless.

wooyoung is unable to stop a smile spreading across his features. "just give me a second to raid kev's stash and find a colour i like, 'kay?"

"you haven't decided on a colour?" san's in disbelief. "and still, you want us to do this now, hours before a party?"