Lines Crossed (SanSang)

5

Yeosang's heart stuttered in his chest as his skin prickled with warmth. He froze for a split second, eyes widening in surprise, but his feet kept moving on autopilot.

The touch was light, almost casual, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for San to lead him like that. But for Yeosang, it was anything but normal. His mind raced, battling between the urge to pull his hand away and the fear that doing so would offend San or make things weird. What if it was just San being friendly? What if pulling away made it awkward?

His face flushed a deep shade of red, the heat creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. He tried to calm his racing thoughts, but the contact was all he could focus on. The warmth of San's hand, the steady grip—he felt completely unmoored, as if the ground beneath him had shifted.

The class building loomed ahead, but it felt like an eternity before they finally reached it. Yeosang could barely process the walk; all he was aware of was the fact that San was still holding his hand. When they stopped in front of the door, San finally let go, and Yeosang nearly let out a breath of relief—except now San was looking at him, smiling.

Yeosang's heart skipped again, and his mind went blank. San's smile wasn't teasing or condescending—it was just... soft. Warm. Yeosang had no idea what to make of it.

His cheeks flamed even hotter, and he awkwardly cleared his throat, unable to meet San's gaze. "W-What... what are you smiling about?"

San tilted his head slightly, his smile widening just a bit as if he found Yeosang's flustered state endearing. "Nothing," he said, his tone casual but amused. "You just look... cute when you're embarrassed."

Yeosang's breath hitched, and his mind scrambled for something—anything—to say in response. Cute? Did San just call him cute?

"I—I'm not embarrassed," Yeosang stammered, though his face probably betrayed him entirely. He tried to laugh it off, but it came out strained.

San just chuckled softly. "Right. My mistake."

For a moment, they stood there in front of the classroom, the air between them charged with something Yeosang couldn't quite put his finger on. He wanted to say something, to ask if the hand-holding had meant anything or if it was just in his own head, but the words stuck in his throat.

San's gaze softened a bit more, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Yeosang," he said, his voice gentle. "I just thought you looked a little lost."

Yeosang blinked, the statement sinking in slowly. *Lost?* That's why San had grabbed his hand? He suddenly felt ridiculous for overthinking it. Of course, it wasn't a big deal. He was making too much out of nothing, like always.

"N-No, it's fine," Yeosang managed, forcing a small smile. "I just wasn't expecting it, that's all."

San nodded, his smile never wavering. "Good. I don't want you to feel weird around me. We're friends, right?"

Friends. The word hung in the air between them, and Yeosang felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment. "Yeah," he said, though his voice was softer now. "Friends."

San gave him one last reassuring smile before gesturing toward the classroom door. "Shall we?"

Yeosang nodded, letting out a breath as he followed San inside. His heart was still racing, but at least now he knew where he stood. Friends. He could handle that. But the warmth of San's hand still lingered on his skin, and Yeosang wasn't sure why he wished it had lasted just a little bit longer.