If You Only Knew : A woosan fanfiction

Under the moonlight

Wooyoung's PoV
The conductor raises his baton, as the the rest of the orchestra executes the command and starts playing a romantic French tune.

I, on the other hand, position myself in front of our reserved table, making sure San has a good view of me. I start moving. Nothing too rehearsed, nothing too flashy - just enough sway in the hips, enough elegance in each step to draw attention without screaming for it.  I let the rhythm guide my fingers as I slide them through my hair and down the side of my neck, letting a lazy smirk stretch across my lips.

I lock eyes with San, who was more than mesmerised by my little "show".  But I wasn't expecting what happened next.

San smirks at me and gets up from his seat, approaching me. Without even wasting a second, he grabs my waist and pulls me towards him, our chests pressed against each other.

What the-? Ok, this isn't what I had in mind! I was supposed to seduce him and he was supposed to be smitten! Why do I feel like things just backfired on me? Omg! Wooyoung don't Panic! Don't panic!

San and I sway slowly to the music, eyes locked, his arm firm around my waist. Then, with a smooth motion, he spins me, only to pull me close again, making sure my back is pressed against his chest. His breath grazes my neck, hot and feather light, sending shivers down my spine. Slowly, he leans in, leaving a trail of soft kisses from my collar bone to just below my ear. He pauses there, his voice raspy - a whisper meant only for me.

"You may have learnt the art of seduction but I wrote the whole damn syllabus"

Before I even had time to process the words, the music starts to increase its pace and San makes sure not to miss a single beat, keeping up with the rhythm. San moves effortlessly, guiding me through every beat like he's known my body forever.   

And me? I follow blindly, losing myself to the rhythm and the man holding me like I'm something precious. I just follow. Willingly, curiously, helplessly.

My heart beats in sync with the orchestra, fast, excited, nervous, unable to anticipate his next move. As the conductor lifts his baton for the final note, San reads it like a silent command to a graceful ending. And that's exactly what he does, he spins me one last time before ending the dance with a graceful yet dramatic dip.

 Silence.

He pulls me up, so that we're face to face, just inches apart, still not letting go of each other. We gaze into each other's eyes, panting- breathless , both from physical exhaustion and the tension between. 

I'm not sure if I imagined it, but for a split second, I catch his gaze lingering on my lips. And maybe for a split second, it felt like even air was too much distance.

We snap back into reality at the sound of a deafening applause. The entire restaurant erupted into applause, with a few people throwing roses at us as a sign of admiration. 

Shocked and mostly flattered by their reaction, San and I bow to our audience. Mouthing a few "thank you's" here and there.

 As the commotion dies down, San takes my hand and guides me to our table once again, pulling out the chair, making sure I'm seated comfortably.

We finish our dinner without saying a word to each other, or more like we didn't get much opportunity to exchange words as people kept approaching us - expressing how impressed they were with our little performance, complimenting us (mostly San) on our dancing skills.

Once done with dinner, we head out the restaurant into the moonlit streets of Paris. What's a more cliche romance scene than a walk under the moonlight right?