↱SACCHARINE↲ ⇾woojoong⇽

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[ ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚ ]

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Hongjoong would have loved to say that he was brave enough to talk about it.

After that night things had gone back to normal, and the two were still talking through the late hours of the evening with stained cheeks and curling lips, finally hand in hand like some crescendoed ending to a meticulous and nerve-wracking novel.

But that's not what happened, and Hongjoong once again found himself wishing that he was someone else entirely.

Someone who could leave to console their friend and be at ease after being kissed in the rain.

He didn't want to keep rushing out of the cafe after closing with the suffocating burn of Wooyoung staring longingly at his vanishing figure.

He didn't want to be someone that grew cold and distant because he was afraid and fucked up and so horribly undeserving of everything that Wooyoung was.

He wanted to be able to meet the tan boy's eyes and not have to keep himself from thinking about the way his lips had felt against his own, tongue smooth and rhythm languid, an overwhelming memory of rippling pressure and stifled gasps that were becoming hazy and patchy despite Hongjoong's innermost demands.

He didn't want to forget.

But he could hardly bear going on like they were.

They managed to go half a week without speaking about the kiss, dancing around the obvious topic by spitting out random desperate attempts at conversation, but even then, slowly, the time trickled away like water between weakly woven fingers, and then it was too awkward to bring anything up at all, ever, so Wooyoung resigned himself to external silence and Hongjoong couldn't do anything but follow.

And so the story that Hongjoong eventually told himself, the story that was nowhere close to what actually happened, was this:

He met up with Wooyoung at the park; they kissed because Wooyoung was upset, and that was the end of it.

It all meant nothing.

"Hey," Yunho said, pushing himself up the couch by his elbows to snap in front of the boy's face. "Were you even listening to me? What's the point in keeping you around if you're not going to let me complain with an attentive audience?"

"I was listening." Hongjoong defended, blinking slowly enough to catch Yunho's eyebrows rise with obvious suspicion.

His eyes narrowed, smoothing out their typically kind shape as he frowned and pulled away, sinking back into the cushions with fresh dimples carving indentions into his cheeks.

Hongjoong pouted at his expression, releasing a heated breath.

"Okay, fine. I wasn't, but I don't have to listen to know that you were probably talking about Mingi."

"Alright listen here you little shit-"

"How did you do it?"