"My little birds deserve only the best" it's with a promise that it starts: a promise of safety against the violence of the world, the hunger, the loneliness and the poverty. Just like a little bird, as long as you stay in The Nest nothing from outs...
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He undid the first button, feeling the shirt tighten uncomfortably around his neck. The soft fabric clung to his skin, too foreign, too stiff, and he mentally cursed himself for not sticking with one of his usual t-shirts. Standing outside the bar, San wondered if he'd put too much effort into his appearance. The place he had chosen was a nice bar—upscaled, a bit trendier than the usual spots he frequented, but still casual. He wasn't someone who went out much, and when he did, he never bothered with dressing up. It wasn't his style. But tonight was different.
The black shirt, neatly tucked into dark jeans, still clung uncomfortably to his chest, a reminder of how much he was trying. He looked good—he knew that—but the sharp tug of anxiety was doing its best to make him feel out of place. He fidgeted, adjusting the leather jacket wrapped around him, the last barrier between him and the biting chill of early spring nights. He wasn't used to this—the waiting, the uncertainty, the dressing up for someone else. But for Wooyoung, he'd do it.
Arriving early had always been a habit of his—something he couldn't quite shake even if it meant standing outside alone, shivering as the night grew colder. His motorbike, parked a few meters away, gleamed under the streetlights, reminding him that he'd be freezing on the ride home. He wanted to mentally slap himself for having chosen a good looking outfit over a more comfortable and warmer one. But that as well was fine if it meant he would steal a surprised smile from Wooyoung's lips. San checked his phone, trying to distract himself. Five minutes until their agreed time.
Hey, I'm here. I'll wait for you at the door, he texted, thumb hovering briefly before pressing send.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket, anxiety gnawing at his insides. He couldn't help but replay the last few days in his mind—their texts, short but sweet. Wooyoung had been more responsive than usual, though his messages still carried that same guarded tone, like there was always something left unsaid. Nothing too deep, nothing too revealing, just enough to keep San hopeful. Hopeful that tonight, things would be different. That maybe, finally, he'd get a glimpse of the Wooyoung that laid hidden beneath all the mystery and the walls.
He could still feel it, that distance between them, as if Wooyoung was holding something back. Whenever San asked about his past or pried a little too much, he'd watch Wooyoung retreat. It wasn't obvious—just a flicker in his eyes, a slight tightening of his jaw—but it was enough. Enough to make San realize there were wounds Wooyoung wasn't ready to reveal. The shadows in his eyes hinted at something deeper, something darker, and San was willing to wait if it meant understanding him better.
He wasn't naive. He knew Wooyoung had his struggles—struggles San couldn't fully comprehend. But there was something about Wooyoung that drew him in, something that made him want to stick around, even if he didn't know exactly what that "something" was yet.
Still, San couldn't help but feel a lingering uncertainty between them. The lines were blurry, their connection undefined. Part of it was Wooyoung's emotional distance—how he always seemed to retreat just when things got a little too personal. But at the same time, San could see the cracks in that wall. He didn't miss the stolen glances, the way Wooyoung's lips would curl into a smirk when San flirted with him, or how, not so rarely, he flirted back. It felt like more than just friendship, didn't it? Those fleeting moments of connection, however subtle, hinted at something deeper. Maybe Wooyoung hadn't said it outright, but there was something there... wasn't there? This alone gave San enough hope, a reason to go all in and see where things would take them.
