SING ME TO SLEEP, woosan

87

wooyoung's birthday night was long.

music relayed across the floor until sunrise, stomps of thrill and celebration kept far too many fellow students up in bed, and a shockingly large pile of burnt barbecue perfumed the accommodation. it was magnificent, the boys thought, vivid and exuberant — and very loud.

the next morning, the easily detectable stench of cheap vodka and (again) bad meat lingers between the walls of san and mingi's dorm. when san wakes, he groans into his pillow at the strong whiff that unpleasantly fondles his nostrils, but, bringing the warmth resting upon his bare chest closer to himself, he grins lazily at the reminder of the beautifully memorable night they've just had. just him and his wooyoung and the kissable rays of the early sun. celebrating his lover might just be san's favourite day of the year.

his heart soars whilst flashes of glistening, honey skin dally through his mind, pressing himself further and impossibly further into the boy tucked between his tired arms. eventually, san's conscious arises amidst his sleepiness and—

as if frightened, he jerks back from the unknown, non-human-like fabric scratching his cheek. scowling at the discomfort, san begrudgingly stretches his eyes open. his brows scrunch at the pile of plushies stuffed in his hugging arms. more so, when his eyes flicker to the neon pink post-it note pasted to his phone.

morning, sannie, the cutely scribbled words call at him. a doodle of a heart accompanies it. plz don't worry, i didn't run away from you. put a shirt on (loser) and find me! i'll be somewhere

san grins. flushing red, he swings his legs off the messy covers of his bed and, unable to find his shirt, he picks up one of wooyoung's.

he only hopes the latter remembers.

when san finds wooyoung, he is huddled with his limbs close to himself upon the kitchen counter, san's sleeves engulfing his arms. so that's where it went.

san smiles at wooyoung's wide, distracted gaze, thinking he looks just adorable.

"hi."

wooyoung jolts, just hardly, at the delicate envelope of san's voice. "sannie. hi." he smiles bashfully — at what, san might be able to guess.

though, he wouldn't mind if he turned out to be wrong, because the curve of wooyoung's sculpted cheeks bloom into a faint pink and san's heart would leap excitedly either way. "hm." he cocks his head, stands before wooyoung. san's palms reach for the latter's knees, a silent prompt for wooyoung to swing his legs down, let san cosy into him. the pink curve of san's lips reaches his dimples as he shimmies close. "what are you doing in here, baby?"

wooyoung hums a short but happy tune, before nodding to the glass of water by his side. san's fingers dance up wooyoung's thighs.

"hydration? impressive."

wooyoung scoffs at san's meaningless teasing, fighting off the giggle close to emitting from his throat; the squint of his eyes, the pink of his ears, the stretch of his lips are far too overwhelming, however. frankly, he doesn't find san largely hilarious, wooyoung is just so happy to be with him again. despite the hours of precious time they spent together, indisputably inseparable the previous night, it doesn't appear to be enough for the giddy couple — not enough glances, touches, kisses. not anywhere close.

finally, wooyoung mumbles a grudgingly petty "shut up" that clashes with the clingy gesture of his fists tugging san into the embrace of thighs pressed to hips. closer, san's lips slot against the plush heartiness of his own and, shameless, wooyoung is, as he hums quietly, breaths of pleasure into san's mouth. he can't help it, when san is so pliant, letting him have his way at anytime and at anyplace. "m'good—" wooyoung's teeth nip at san's lip. "—morning," he musters, ever so polite. then, he pecks the corner of san's mouth.