"Spit it out," San huffs, after Wooyoung's opened his mouth, paused, and closed it one too many times. He's careful, usually, but this is too much.
"I—" Wooyoung pauses, before finishing furiously under his breath, "I think I lost my dildo."
"You what?" San feels like he's been hit with a sledgehammer. Clipped on the shoulder with a ten-kilogram weight. He has never thought about Jung Wooyoung and dildos together, ever, and he's not planning to start now. There's an uncomfortable tightness in his chest and his mouth is suddenly dry.
"Keep it down," Wooyoung hisses, red enough in the face to probably match San's own, before tugging him down the hallway. San is acutely aware of everywhere Wooyoung's fingers are digging into his skin, which is disastrous because he likes draping himself over Wooyoung and he can't do that if this is going to happen. Every inch of his skin Wooyoung's touching turns to flames, but he somehow misses the warmth where he isn't.
"No one's home," San replies, trying to shake him off, but Wooyoung's got a death grip on his arm. The dorm is empty for now—they'd been left alone after they got back for the day, napping when the rest of them went out for dinner—but that doesn't mean someone couldn't come sailing back through the door at any moment.
Wooyoung fixes his eyes on the ground, muttering, "I can't find it anywhere and I—I thought you could help."
There's not enough air in the room for the two of them. Tucking himself against the bathroom doorway, San just stares at Wooyoung, feeling a buzz in his head that he'd normally attribute to alcohol, except for the fact that he's completely sober. With Wooyoung's newly confessed dildo ownership hitting him like a sucker punch, he really wouldn't mind getting wasted to be honest.
He's having a hard time figuring out a response that isn't Can I watch you next time? and settles for "How do you—how do you lose a whole dildo?"
"Would I be here if I knew?" Wooyoung huffs.
"How did you even get one in the first place?" San doesn't want to know. San wants to know everything. Wooyoung flushes even more, if possible. He looks pretty, all red like this, San's subconscious offers unhelpfully, and he wants to smack himself.
"Can I explain later? I need to find it before someone else does," Wooyoung says. There's a small dip between his eyebrows that appears when he's fucked up the same goddamn transition onstage again, or when Hongjoong and Mingi are yelling at each other. San wants to press a fingertip to it and smooth it out.
"I still can't believe you asked for my help." San is pulling his best affronted face in order to mask the yawning pit in the bottom of the stomach, but he knows that Wooyoung can tell he's amused, not that Wooyoung would appreciate any amusement at his expense right now. He can't help but ask, "So... when did you last—y'know—"
Wooyoung narrows his eyes at him. "What?"
San exhales loudly, a quick breath before he drops his eyes to Wooyoung's sneakers scuffing at the hardwood floor. He's only curious and it would help them find it easier, probably. "I can't—when did you last... use it?"
"Oh, my God. Choi San. That is none of your business." Wooyoung's cheeks are red, and he presses a hand to his face.
"How else am I going to help you? We need to—I don't know, collect information, clues?" San's mouth runs away from him sometimes, especially when he's nervous and possibly really turned on.
"This isn't a scavenger hunt, my dildo is missing and tell me what the hell I'm going to do when Jongho—or worse, Mingi—finds it and comes for me." Wooyoung's voice is rising in pitch and volume as he gets more distressed, though it does drop off whenever he has to say dildo.
