SING ME TO SLEEP, woosan

44

warmth dances over the skin of wooyoung's cheek. tender yet electrifying. and that feeling, that warmth — he'd recognise it no matter the circumstance.

he leans closer. he can't see san, the reason for that unknown to him, but still, he knows he's there. he knows he's close to him. because wooyoung feels... god, he feels full. san's slender fingertips slowly grazing the side of his face, he feels so greatly full of serenity, of safety, of contentment.

wooyoung senses himself smiling. his lips tug upwards, closed tight, cheekbones lifting beneath the hand caressing it. and it starts to hurt; his face starts to ache, all due to how happy he is. he is just so purely happy that he can't bear to keep it a secret.

san chuckles then. the sound is only there for a brief second, soft and like a bird's song to wooyoung's ears. but he hears it either way and captures it in his heart, almost subconsciously, because it's just that special. something as mundane and small as a laugh becomes no longer mundane or small, because when belonging to san, even the shortest laugh is everything wooyoung wants to hear.

something tickles the tip of wooyoung's nose. it's rather sudden, the touch, but only takes him back for a moment, for it's almost natural the way he sinks into the arms snaking around his waist and the nose starting to slide against the side of his own.

wooyoung holds his breath. his eyes even flutter shut expectantly, despite there being no difference in the dark void he sees by doing so.

because he craves it that bad — the limbs hugging his figure, the slow, hot breaths fanning his skin, the lips hovering over his own.

he craves san that bad.

a lightbulb enters wooyoung's vision.

the bulb is empty of light and hung upon the ceiling of his... bedroom. his bedroom in the dormitory he shares with his best friends in canada.

away from san.

obviously, a voice stung with cockiness utters into wooyoung's mind.

if wooyoung was just the tiniest bit more of a fool, he would've thought he could physically feel san's warmth being sucked away from him, along with all of the serenity and the safety and the contentment the boy brings him.

and for that reason, wooyoung is relieved he holds some intelligence at the least. he doubts it would've felt pleasant.

body glued in its spot, wooyoung's arm is blindly thrown to the side. his hand lands on his dresser, before scooting around a bit and meeting the edge of his phone. he grips the device in his palm.

bringing it to his face, wooyoung blinks ferociously at the blinding light which daggers into his eyes. fingers racing to lower its brightness, he then opens google. his lips huff out a thoughtful sigh.

if you were to say a somewhat functioning jung wooyoung at four in the morning isn't the most logical being, you would be incorrect for underestimation. his fingers tap away at the screen of his phone like a game of thumb war, and in just minutes, he watches as his bank balance decreases a hefty amount.

his lips fall open in amazement at himself, his astonished eyes blinking at the dull screen before him. hurriedly, wooyoung enters his most recent chat.