SING ME TO SLEEP, woosan

64

san's grip intertwining wooyoung's fingers is laughably tight as they saunter through the entrance to stephen's home. whether it be out of possessiveness or terror for the remainder of the night, wooyoung can't decipher his reasoning — hell, it could even be both. regardless, he finds it cute, and thinks he'd find great entertainment in watching how long san lasts.

the simultaneous waft of cigarettes, vodka, and takeout food seeping into wooyoung's nostrils sends a thrill down his spine. a type of thrill he hasn't felt in a long time.

before yeosang's passing, wooyoung was quite the party animal. he can't remember spending even a single weekend cooped up at home; he always had to be out and about, staying active, doing something. this overload of wooyoung's outgoing essence is what made him fit in so easily upon moving to canada, what made him so likeable in high school, what garnered him such a wide, yet close, circle.

over the past few months, jacob has been encouraging wooyoung to venture outdoors more often. starting off with small things, like having a picnic, then visiting an art museum, then dinner at a restaurant.

now, here wooyoung is, at his very first party after his best friend's death. and even if it's just a house party, he somewhat feels like a parent gushing over their toddler's first words.

at the centre of what is usually stephen's living room, but is now decorated to look like the perfect balance between a dance floor and a strip club, wooyoung distinguishes the fiery red of his friend's hair. momentarily sneaking a glance back at san, who looks — positively — struck at the foreign atmosphere of hollering young adults, wooyoung begins swerving through already tipsy bodies to where stephen is exclaiming passionately about something to some ginger guy he's never seen.

stephen catches wooyoung approaching before he even gets a word in, and grins all sparkly. "the hair looks even sexier in person."

sheepish, wooyoung smiles alongside a lighthearted roll of his eyes, dismissing the attention his presence appears to attract. "hello to you, too, steph. and thanks," he expresses his gratitude, before curiously nudging stephen's shoulder, nodding to the appetising drink in his hand. "what's that?"

"oh, this?" stephen clicks his tongue. "peach moscow, i think. want some?"

"please," wooyoung says sweetly,

then, stephen gestures to his side where san is standing, awfully silent. "we meet again, hottie," stephen greets, sing-song. "vodka?"

san shakes his head no, and thoughtlessly steps closer to wooyoung. "thank you, though."

"ah. not the party type?"

chuckling, almost embarrassed at how involuntarily obvious he'd made it, san purses his lips into a contemplative expression. "i've been to a few in my lifetime, but not exactly, no."

a frown creases into wooyoung's mouth, and he leans up to run his fingers along the hairs at the back of san's head, soothingly and apologetically.

effortlessly sensing the sorriness radiating off of wooyoung, san assures, "it's okay. i want to be here for you, my love."

stephen nods in some sort of understanding. "i get it. taeyang's just like that, too."

"taeyang?" wooyoung quizzes, head rapidly jerking to his friend. who the fuck is taeyang?

"oh. uhm—" causing shock in both wooyoung and san, the tips of stephen's ears burn a deep red, and he averts his gaze elsewhere. "theo," he elaborates, quiet and quick.

"oh," wooyoung stretches. a knowing look overcomes his features, and he cocks his head teasingly at stephen, the mention of his lover boy planting all kinds of payback worthy ideas into his head.