A Place to Belong - Woosan

{17 - A Recipe for Disaster (and Laughter) }

Wooyoung's kitchen was many things—spacious, bright, filled with every gadget and tool you could imagine—but one thing it wasn't was organized. San quickly realized this as he watched Wooyoung rummage through a cluttered drawer for the third time, muttering under his breath as he searched for a missing whisk.

"You know," San said, leaning against the counter with a raised eyebrow, "I'm starting to think this might be a two-person search mission."

Wooyoung straightened up, his hair a bit disheveled from all the bending and searching, and shot San a sheepish grin. "It's in here somewhere, I swear."

San's lips twitched, his dry humor bubbling up before he could stop himself. "Somewhere? Is that before or after the Tupperware graveyard?"

Wooyoung blinked, then threw his head back and let out one of those loud, unrestrained laughs that San had grown to love so much. It was the kind of laugh that filled the room, unapologetic and full of joy. And every time San heard it, he couldn't help but feel a little lighter himself.

"You're not helping," Wooyoung said between laughs, but there was no real irritation in his voice. He loved how San could make him laugh, often with just a few words. "You could at least pretend to be supportive."

"I am," San replied, his face completely serious, though his eyes gleamed with amusement. "I'm supporting your decision to embrace kitchen chaos as a lifestyle choice."

Wooyoung snorted and finally abandoned the drawer, shrugging. "Fine. We'll whisk the eggs with a fork. It's basically the same thing, right?"

San's eyebrows rose again, but this time there was a hint of a challenge in his eyes. "Basically the same? Famous last words."

They had decided to cook dinner together—something simple, or so they'd thought. The plan was to try a new recipe they had never made before, just for fun. But fun quickly turned into chaos the moment they stepped into Wooyoung's kitchen.

"What's next?" Wooyoung asked, glancing down at the recipe, which was already splattered with a bit of sauce from an earlier mishap.

"Let's see..." San scanned the recipe, his dry tone as steady as ever. "We're supposed to 'lightly sauté the garlic until fragrant.' I think that's code for 'don't burn it like you did last time.'"

Wooyoung laughed again, shaking his head as he grabbed a pan and set it on the stove. "I only burned it once. I'm practically a garlic-sautéing expert now."

San gave him a long, deadpan stare. "I think 'expert' might be a strong word. But sure, let's go with that."

"Hey," Wooyoung said, turning to look at San with mock offense. "I'll have you know, I've successfully sautéed garlic exactly three times without burning it."

"Impressive." San's tone was so flat that Wooyoung couldn't help but burst into laughter again, nearly dropping the garlic in the process.

San loved that laugh. It was so uninhibited, so full of life—everything that Wooyoung embodied. And even though San's sense of humor was subtle and often missed by others, Wooyoung always caught it, always appreciated it. In a way, making Wooyoung laugh felt like a victory every time.

They worked together, somewhat clumsily, but with an easy rhythm. Wooyoung tossed ingredients into the pan with far too much confidence, and San, always ready with a quick, dry comment, kept things grounded.

As they attempted to follow the recipe, things slowly began to unravel.

"Is the sauce supposed to be this... thick?" Wooyoung asked, frowning as he stirred the bubbling concoction that didn't quite resemble the glossy picture from the recipe.

San leaned over, inspecting it with a critical eye. "Thick? It's basically glue at this point."

Wooyoung groaned. "Maybe we should've added more water?"

"Or less cornstarch. You know, the thing I told you not to dump in all at once."

Wooyoung rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a grin. "Details, details."

The smell of something slightly burning reached them, and San's head snapped toward the oven. "Uh... Wooyoung?"

Wooyoung followed his gaze to the oven door, his eyes widening. "Oh no, the bread!"

They scrambled to open the oven, a cloud of smoke billowing out as they pulled out a tray of very crispy—okay, burnt—bread.

San crossed his arms, his dry humor kicking in again. "Well, I hope you like your bread extra well done."

Wooyoung's laughter echoed through the kitchen again, even as he fanned the smoke with a towel. "Hey, we've got the sauce... sort of."

San eyed the glue-like sauce and the burnt bread, then shook his head. "Maybe we should've stuck to ordering takeout."

But despite the minor disasters piling up, neither of them seemed to care. The kitchen was filled with laughter and banter, the kind of easy joy that came when two people were comfortable enough with each other to embrace the chaos together.

After several more mishaps—and a few creative adjustments to the recipe—they finally managed to get everything plated. The meal looked far from perfect, but they both stood back, admiring their creation with a mix of pride and disbelief.

"Well," Wooyoung said, wiping his hands on his apron. "It's not exactly what we set out to make, but I'd say we did pretty well, all things considered."

San tilted his head, his lips curving into a small smile. "You're not wrong. We did something."

Wooyoung burst out laughing again, and San felt a familiar warmth spread through his chest. There was something magical about these moments—about making Wooyoung laugh, about feeling that lightness that had been missing for so long.

They sat down at the table, ready to taste their chaotic creation, and Wooyoung raised his fork with a grin. "Here's to... whatever this is."

San chuckled, clinking his fork against Wooyoung's. "To culinary disasters and questionable decisions."

As they took their first bites, the taste wasn't half as bad as they'd feared. It wasn't perfect, but it was theirs. And as they shared another laugh over their makeshift dinner, San realized something important: with Wooyoung, it didn't have to be perfect. The humor, the mess, the unpredictability—it was all part of what made their time together so special.

Suddenly with a startling realization, San felt truly at home.

In Wooyoung's laughter, in the chaos they created together, San had found something he hadn't realized he'd been missing—joy. Real, unfiltered joy.

He would do anything, to keep it, and Wooyoung in his life.