A Place to Belong - A Woosan Novel

{7 - Outside His Comfort Zone}

The invitation had come as casually as every other suggestion Wooyoung had made over the past few weeks. It had been during one of their coffee meetups, the sun just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the park where they sat. Wooyoung had been talking about his plans for the weekend—an easy-going dinner party at his place with some of his closest friends. Without missing a beat, he had turned to San with a grin and said, "You should come."

At first, San's instinct was to say no, to make an excuse, and feign other plans. His comfort zone had become a safe fortress, and venturing out of it felt risky, especially around people he didn't know. But there had been something in Wooyoung's smile, something in the way he'd asked, that made it hard for San to refuse.

Which is why, now, San found himself standing in front of Wooyoung's door, a bottle of wine in one hand and nerves gnawing at the pit of his stomach.

He hesitated for a second, staring at the door, contemplating turning back. But just as he was about to reconsider, the door swung open, and there stood Wooyoung, his face lighting up the moment he saw San.

"Hey, you made it!" Wooyoung's voice was full of warmth, and for a moment, the anxiety in San's chest eased slightly.

"Yeah," San mumbled, offering a small smile. "Didn't want to disappoint."

Wooyoung's grin softened, his eyes holding San's for a beat longer than usual. "I'm really glad you're here," he said, his voice quieter now, more sincere.

San followed Wooyoung inside, trying to ignore the knot of tension still coiled in his stomach. The sound of laughter and conversation spilled from the living room, and as they rounded the corner, San was greeted by the sight of a small group of people lounging on the couch and chairs, drinks in hand, clearly comfortable in each other's company.

The evening began much like San had feared—awkward and stilted. Wooyoung introduced him to his friends, all of whom were warm and welcoming, but there was still that nagging feeling of being an outsider, watching as the rest of the group effortlessly bantered and laughed together. San stuck close to Wooyoung, grateful for the way he seemed to instinctively know when to include him in the conversation, guiding him through the evening like a gentle anchor.

Still, despite Wooyoung's efforts, San felt the weight of his own insecurities pressing down on him. He wasn't good at these kinds of social situations, wasn't good at opening up around strangers, and the more the evening wore on, the more he began to wonder if coming here had been a mistake.

It wasn't until dinner was served—a casual affair, everyone gathered around the table with plates of homemade food—that things started to shift. Wooyoung's friends had a way of making the atmosphere feel light, and as the conversation flowed, San found himself relaxing, just a little.

It helped that Wooyoung never left his side. His quiet presence was enough to keep San grounded, and slowly but surely, San started to feel like he belonged—like maybe, just maybe, these people weren't judging him as harshly as he judged himself.

The conversation eventually turned to Wooyoung, and one of his friends—a tall guy with glasses named Mingi—grinned and leaned back in his chair, a teasing lilt to his voice.

"You know, Wooyoung's always been the fixer," Mingi said, glancing around the table with a playful smirk. "He's got this thing for taking in strays and helping them get their lives together."

San froze, the words hitting him harder than he'd expected. He glanced at Wooyoung, wondering how he would react, but Wooyoung just laughed along with the others, his usual easy going demeanor in place. It didn't seem to bother him, but San couldn't shake the pang of guilt that bloomed in his chest.

Is that what I am to him? A project?

The thought gnawed at him, suddenly making him feel out of place again, like he was intruding on something he didn't deserve to be part of. He had been trying so hard to move forward, to let Wooyoung in, but what if that's all this was to him? Another stray to help fix?

San's chest tightened, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the familiar urge to retreat pulling at him.

But then, as if sensing the shift in San's mood, Wooyoung's hand found its way to San's arm. It was a small, simple gesture, but the warmth of Wooyoung's touch was enough to make San pause, his mind racing and slowing all at once.

Wooyoung didn't say anything. He didn't need to. The quiet reassurance in his eyes, the way his hand lingered on San's arm, said everything that needed to be said: You're not a project. You're not a burden. I'm here because I want to be.

San swallowed hard, the weight of Wooyoung's silent message settling over him like a calming wave. Slowly, the tension in his chest began to ease, and the knot of insecurity started to unravel. He wasn't just some stray Wooyoung had taken in. He was... something more. Definitions didn't matter in that moment, but the impact on his heart was clear. He was something more to Wooyoung.

The rest of the evening passed by in a blur of conversation and laughter, and by the time the dinner party began to wind down, San found himself feeling lighter than he had in a long time. Wooyoung's friends had accepted him, and more importantly, Wooyoung had made it clear—without ever having to say it—that San wasn't just another person to fix.

As the last of Wooyoung's friends trickled out the door, San stood by the kitchen counter, helping Wooyoung clean up the empty plates and glasses. There was a comfortable silence between them now, the kind that came from knowing each other well enough to not need constant chatter.

"You okay?" Wooyoung asked, glancing at San as he wiped down the counter.

San nodded, his chest feeling lighter than it had in days. "Yeah," he said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I'm good."

Wooyoung grinned, that familiar mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "Good. Because I was worried I'd scared you off with my weird friends."

San chuckled, shaking his head. "They're not that weird."

Wooyoung laughed, but as the moment stretched out, his smile softened. He stepped closer, his hand finding its way to San's arm again, just like it had earlier at the dinner table. But this time, instead of just offering a reassuring touch, Wooyoung leaned in and pressed a soft, unexpected kiss to San's cheek.

The warmth of Wooyoung's lips against his skin sent a rush of something electric through San's body, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. Wooyoung lingered for just a second longer than necessary, and when he pulled back, there was a quiet sincerity in his eyes that made San's heart skip a beat.

"You're not a project, San," Wooyoung said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're... important to me. You know that, right?"

San's breath hitched, the weight of Wooyoung's words settling over him like a gentle embrace. He didn't know what to say, didn't know how to express the swirl of emotions that had taken root in his chest. But as he looked into Wooyoung's eyes, he realized that maybe words weren't necessary.

He wasn't a project. He wasn't a burden.  "Yeah," San whispered, his voice steady but soft. "I know."

And with that, the last of San's doubts melted away.