kidnapper's protection | seongjoong

22

Wooyoung didn't know why he agreed to this date with San. Maybe it was curiosity or a fleeting lapse in judgment. Either way, here he was, pacing at the edge of a park trail, chewing on his lower lip, trying not to rethink the entire thing.

San had somehow talked him into this—something casual, just two people who can't stand each other, hanging out. As if that made sense. The guy was infuriating in every way: too smart, too competitive, too good-looking, and worst of all, he knew it.

"Relax, it's not a test," Wooyoung muttered to himself, fidgeting with the zipper of his jacket.

Just as he considered ditching, San strolled up the path, wearing that stupid smirk that always drove Wooyoung insane. He was dressed in a black hoodie and jeans, effortlessly cool, and annoyingly confident as always.

"You're early," San said, tilting his head, his smile growing as if he'd caught Wooyoung in something embarrassing.

"I—" Wooyoung stopped himself. "I didn't want to waste my time waiting for you."

San chuckled. "Sure, Wooyoung. Keep telling yourself that."

They started walking along the quiet park path, the early autumn breeze rustling the leaves. It wasn't awkward, but the tension between them was always there, a strange undercurrent that neither of them ever acknowledged aloud.

"So, is this really a date," Wooyoung asked, "or just another excuse for you to annoy me?"

San gave him a side glance, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Why can't it be both?"

Wooyoung rolled his eyes but couldn't stop the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You're unbelievable."

"And you like it," San shot back, his voice teasing but not entirely joking.

They stopped at a small bench overlooking the pond. San sat first, stretching his arms along the backrest, clearly comfortable. Wooyoung hesitated, then sat beside him, leaving a bit of space between them.

For a moment, they sat in silence, the sounds of the park filling the air—the breeze in the trees, distant laughter, the occasional quack of a duck. It was almost peaceful, and Wooyoung hated that it felt...nice.

"You know," San began, breaking the quiet, "you're a lot easier to be around when you're not glaring at me."

Wooyoung scoffed, crossing his arms. "Don't get used to it."

San chuckled softly, turning his head to look at Wooyoung. "Why do you hate me so much?"

Wooyoung blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question. "I don't hate you," he muttered, looking away. "You're just... annoying."

"Annoying, huh?" San's voice was low, almost amused. "Then why are you here?"

Wooyoung didn't answer right away. He hated how easily San got under his skin, how the simple act of sitting beside him felt more intimate than it should.

"Because," Wooyoung finally said, "I wanted to see what you're like when you're not being a jerk."

San hummed thoughtfully, leaning in just slightly. "And?"

Wooyoung turned to face him, their eyes meeting. San's gaze was steady, intense in a way that made Wooyoung's heart skip a beat.

"And you're still a jerk," Wooyoung whispered, though there was no venom in his voice.

San's lips curled into a grin, and before Wooyoung could react, San leaned in closer—too close.

"You like it, though," San murmured, the teasing lilt in his voice sending a shiver down Wooyoung's spine.

Wooyoung felt his breath hitch, his heart pounding in his chest. "Shut up."

San only smirked, his eyes crinkling at the corners, clearly enjoying Wooyoung's flustered reaction.

They stayed like that for a moment, the air between them thick with unspoken things—anger, attraction, frustration, and something else that neither of them was ready to admit just yet.

And for once, Wooyoung didn't pull away. He let the moment linger, let himself exist in that strange space between rivalry and something deeper.

"Maybe you're not as terrible as I thought," Wooyoung mumbled, finally breaking the silence.

San grinned, leaning back on the bench. "Told you."

Wooyoung rolled his eyes but didn't move away. And for the first time in a long time, it felt okay. Maybe even good.

Whatever this was—whatever they were—it didn't have to make sense right now. It just had to be real. And it was.

They sat in silence, side by side, the tension between them shifting into something softer, something neither of them dared to name just yet.