jung wooyoung is stuck in an unfinished action script with no way out-until he takes a wrong turn and meets choi san, a charming college student from a romance drama! what happens when a gritty vigilante and a romantic lead collide?
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wooyoung, a h...
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when morning arrived, san was grateful to have been the first to wake up.
he awoke with a start, his eyes wide open, and the sleep left his body as soon as he did so. the sun was pouring in through all of the room's windows, providing the brightness it had needed the night before. thankfully, seonghwa hadn't returned yet.
as san's mind began to piece together the events of the previous night, his first instinct was to look down, checking if wooyoung was still beside him—and he was. relief washed over him, followed by a sigh as he glanced at his arm, which was still awkwardly extended for wooyoung to rest his head on. it was uncomfortable and had fallen asleep long ago, but san had left it there anyway because it seemed like the romantic thing to do. but apparently, wooyoung didn't share that sentiment, as he had opted to rest his head directly on san's bare chest instead.
wooyoung's limbs were sprawled across san's body like a child's teddy bear, and he was snoring loudly, the sound cutting through the peaceful morning like a buzz saw. san stared at the ceiling, his lips pursed in a determined line, as if preparing himself for something rash or ill-advised—something he was almost certainly about to do.
this was his chance!
with painstaking care, san began to shift wooyoung's head onto a pillow, his movements slow and deliberate, as though handling fragile glass. wooyoung's arms and legs were carefully returned to their proper places—anywhere except draped over san's body. san rolled off the bed with the precision of a surgeon, landing on the floor with a soft 'thud' that was muted by the thick carpet beneath him.
once he was free, san's eyes darted around the room in search of his clothes, but the space was too tidy for anything to be lying around. his sweatshirt, he remembered, was all the way over in seonghwa's part of the room, abandoned on the floor alongside a table lamp from when things had escalated. growing impatient, san ducked down to peer under the bed, silently pleading with the universe to be on his side just this once. to his relief, he found a shirt—a simple white t-shirt, crumpled but clean.
san pulled the t-shirt over his head in one swift motion, feeling a little more grounded now that he was fully dressed. but as he sat there, his back against the bed, a heavy sigh escaped his lips. his shoulders slumped as he rested his hands in his lap, feeling uncharacteristically lost.
wooyoung's words last night were exactly what san had been hoping for since the day he met him. however, for obvious reasons, san, the romance lead in a g-rated world, felt dejected and insecure following everything that had happened.
confessions were supposed to be sweet and heart-fluttering, weren't they? especially if it was your first time truly liking someone. for a moment, it had been sweet and heart-fluttering. but then...
there was a clear distinction between 'like' and whatever it was that wooyoung had felt last night. the line between the two wasn't thin; it was glaringly obvious, like a neon sign flashing in the dark. unpleasant thoughts began to swirl in san's head as he wondered if wooyoung really liked him at all. or was it something else entirely?
