Why me? >Woosan<

3

When Wooyoung woke up Monday morning, San was still in his head.

Just like every morning since Friday.

It had only been a few days, but San's face had taken up permanent residence behind his eyelids, the curve of his smile, the way his eyes had locked with Wooyoung's during the concert, the warmth of his hand during the meet and greet.

Wooyoung groaned into his pillow.

This was ridiculous.

He rolled over and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. The screen lit up, and before he could stop himself, he was already opening Instagram.

Search.

San.

Again.

New photos. New fancams. Clips from the concert that somehow made him look even more unreal than he had in person.

Wooyoung scrolled slowly, thumb moving automatically.

A video popped up from the concert, San dancing during Wonderland, sweat glistening under the lights, his smile bright and effortless.

Wooyoung sighed dramatically and dropped his phone on his chest.

"Get a grip," he muttered to the ceiling.

A loud knock suddenly rattled the door.

"Woo! Where the hell are you?!" Jun's voice echoed through the hallway.

Wooyoung's eyes shot to the clock.

"Oh, shit."

He launched himself out of bed so fast he nearly tripped over his backpack.

"I'm coming!" he shouted, yanking a hoodie over his head.

Jun knocked again.

"We're late, man!"

"I know, I know!"

Wooyoung scrambled into his shoes, shoving his phone into his pocket.

There was absolutely no way he was explaining that he'd lost track of time stalking a K-pop idol online.

When he finally opened the door, Jun stood there with his arms crossed.

"Seriously?"

"I'm ready now," Wooyoung said quickly, flashing a guilty grin.

Jun shook his head.

"You're unbelievable."

They hurried out together.

And Wooyoung kept the real reason for his lateness safely to himself.

-

Later that afternoon, Wooyoung met his mom for coffee at their favorite café.

It wasn't a big place.

Warm beige walls, wooden tables, and shelves filled with plants that spilled soft green vines toward the floor. The smell of cinnamon rolls and roasted beans filled the air.

Comforting.

Familiar.

They'd been coming here for years, long before Wooyoung moved out.

A small weekly ritual.

His mom smiled as he slid into the booth across from her.

"You're late."

"Sorry," Wooyoung said, shrugging off his jacket. "School you know. A lot of work."

Her raised eyebrow said she didn't believe him.