SEVENTEEN | Imagines

Woozi (IV)

Woozi

Woozi didn't like skinship, but why did he feel so disappointed when you didn't either?

. . .

The air was crisp and chilly as Woozi stepped out of his apartment, clothed warmly in a thick parka with a hand-knit scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. He buried his nose into the soft wool as he began the ten-minute walk to the studio he shared with fellow songwriters.

While his mind usually would've been on his work, constantly using whatever inspiration hit to create a new piece. But today was different, there was something else that distracted him.

To be honest, it's quite embarrassing; so embarrassing that he knew one of the artists he worked extensively with, Seungkwan, would have a field day with it.

Indeed, he was thinking about his significant other: you.

. . .

The two of you met in college and got along wonderfully. Of course, no friendship is without bumps, however, you were extremely in tune with each other. To the point of it being eerie.

There was a deep-rooted connection between you and Woozi, one that most couldn't begin to fathom. It was as though you had known him for all his life, rather than a mere few years, going by the way you felt acutely his emotions and thoughts.

It was nothing too bizarre, but you knew when his smile went from faint to strained and he knew when your eyes went from idle to exhausted.

Sometimes it was a curse, it made it impossible to hide secrets from one another. Even if you knew that Woozi was tired and didn't want to bother him with the issues that you had at work that day, he would always coax it out of you because he knew at a glance that you were upset.

But for the most part, it was a blessing. You knew when you should pass him a cup of coffee and he knew when you would appreciate a steaming cup of freshly brewed tea.

Most of all, you and Woozi both agreed on one thing. Skinship was not needed, the two of you both didn't enjoy it when family or friends behaved liberally with you and mutually understood that cuddling, nuzzling, and hugging weren't a welcome addition to your relationship.

At least that's what Woozi had thought.

. . .

He wasn't sure when it started, but he knew the moment he felt it most apparent.

You were watching a movie together, a very generic and predictable film that consisted of a righteous hero and poorly-written villain. And the damsel in distress was a vapid doll, lovely. But you seemed happy as you munched on the popcorn you had snatched from the bowl on Woozi's lap.

All of sudden a scene in the boring movie caught his attention, the handsome protagonist had gathered his tragically crying lady into his arms, while the woman buried her face into the chest of her lover.

He didn't want it to happen, but his mind had already begun to envision what it would feel like to wrap you in his arms. Woozi glanced surreptitiously at you, the faintest of blushes on his cheeks as he wondered if you would let him hold you like that.

The thought caused his heart to beat just a second faster, but when he saw you gather yourself into a secluded little ball, he remembered an important detail. You hated skinship.

Great.

As he reached back into the bowl of buttery popcorn, he pondered why the thought of hugging you didn't give him the goosebumps he usually had when confronted with the possibility of cuddling and skin-to-skin contact.