Mingled Round 🍭 ateez slash challenge [⏯]

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bottom!Yunho
Top!San

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From the Desk of Choi San
October 14th

Dear Yunho,

It’s been exactly 48 hours, 13 minutes, and 7 seconds since I saw you last. Not that I’m counting or anything. (I am.) The coffee shop feels emptier without you here to order that weird caramel-syrup-laden monstrosity you call a drink. Honestly, if there were a contest for beverages most likely to send someone into cardiac arrest, your order would win gold.

I’m writing to you because texting feels too casual, and we both know I’m anything but casual about you. Plus, my handwriting is sexy, and I figured you deserve the full Choi San Experience™. You know, the one where I casually flirt with you while also reminding you that I’m way out of your league.

Anyway, I’ve been thinking about the way your laugh sounds, like a warm blanket on a cold day. It’s a dangerous weapon, Yunho. I’m surprised you haven’t been arrested for it yet.

Miss you already,
San

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From Yunho’s Kitchen Table
October 15th

Dear San,

I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry at your letter. Maybe both? First of all, my drink is not a “monstrosity.” It’s a carefully crafted masterpiece of sugar and caffeine designed to bring joy to my mornings. Second, if you think your handwriting is sexy, wait until you see mine. You might need to sit down for this.

I laughed out loud when I read about my laugh being a “dangerous weapon.” You’re the one with the smile that could launch a thousand ships, San. (And before you roll your eyes, just know I mean it. Though, technically, you owe me one eye-roll for that cheesy line.)

I miss you too. The apartment is quieter without you here to sass me about my life choices. Don’t keep me waiting too long, okay?

Yours,
Yunho

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From Choi San’s Kitchen (Adjacent to the Trash Can Where His Failed Pancakes Are)
October 17th

Dear Yunho,

Let’s address the elephant in the room: you’re a liar. Your handwriting is not sexy. It’s too neat, like a font on a corporate PowerPoint slide. I need passion in my letters, Yunho. Give me chaotic loops and ink smudges. Give me drama. Your handwriting is the equivalent of white bread, and I demand sourdough.

That said, I did smile when I saw your letter. Your words are annoyingly perfect, like the way you somehow manage to look good even after running five miles. It’s disgusting, really. Stop being so attractive; it’s ruining my productivity.

I’ve been trying to make pancakes to distract myself, but they keep turning out like frisbees. If you were here, you’d probably find a way to make them edible just by existing near the stove. Why are you so good at everything?

Come back soon. My ego can’t handle missing you.

Lovingly annoyed,
San

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From Yunho’s Couch, Accompanied by His Lame Cat
October 18th

Dear San,

First of all, I take offense at your “white bread” comment. My handwriting is refined and elegant, thank you very much. Not everyone needs chaotic energy to convey passion. Some of us do it with perfectly proportioned letters.

Second, pancakes are overrated. If you want to impress me, learn how to make croissants from scratch. I’m talking buttery layers that would make a French chef weep. Until then, I’ll take your frisbee pancakes with a side of that San-brand sarcasm I love so much.

Speaking of which, my cat has been staring at your letter for the past ten minutes. I think she likes your handwriting more than mine. Betrayed by my own pet. I hope you’re happy.

I’ll be over this weekend. You can attempt to wow me with your culinary disasters, and I’ll remind you why I’m still singlehandedly holding this relationship together.

Yours (and my cat’s, apparently),
Yunho

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From Choi San’s Living Room (Where He’s Currently Sulking)
October 19th

Dear Yunho,

The audacity. The audacity of you to demand croissants when I can barely make pancakes. Do you think I’m a magician? A French pastry god? No, Yunho, I am but a man—a simple, sarcastic, devastatingly handsome man.

Also, I don’t believe for a second that your cat betrayed you. She’s clearly just fascinated by the raw charisma dripping off my words. It’s understandable. Most people and animals are.

I’m cleaning the apartment in preparation for your visit. If you find a single speck of dust, I’ll expect a formal letter of apology. And before you even think about commenting on my “chaotic energy,” just know that chaos is an art form, Yunho. I am an artist.

Looking forward to seeing your face. But not your handwriting.

Impatiently waiting,
San

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From Yunho’s Suitcase, Somewhere Between “Packed” and “Where’s My Socks?”
October 20th

Dear San,

You’re right. Chaos is an art form, and you’re a masterpiece. (That’s two cheesy lines now. You owe me two eye-rolls.)

I’ve packed my weekend bag and even threw in a chef’s apron because I have a feeling I’ll be rescuing you from another pancake disaster. Don’t worry; I come prepared. Also, if your apartment isn’t spotless, I’ll graciously overlook it in exchange for one of those devastating smiles of yours.

You’re the only person who can make me look forward to a weekend of bad cooking and even worse jokes. See you soon, San. And remember: I like my pancakes with a side of charm, so don’t disappoint me.

Yours,
Yunho

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From Choi San’s Apartment (Now with Flour on the Ceiling)
October 21st

Dear Yunho,

I’m writing this while you’re asleep on my couch, looking like the world’s most attractive burrito in that blanket. It’s unfair, really, how you can look so peaceful while I’m still finding bits of flour in my hair from our “pancake experiment.”

I know I make fun of you a lot, but the truth is, you’re kind of perfect. You make the chaos feel less chaotic. You make me feel less like a mess and more like… well, me.

I’ll never say this to your face, so enjoy the rare sentimentality while it lasts. But Yunho, I’m glad it’s you.

Forever yours (but don’t get cocky),
San