perhaps, you | woosan

Chapter Two

POV: Wooyoung

It's surprising how many things go unnoticed under one's nose until they decide to pay attention to it. It was only after moving in the dorm did Wooyoung realise he shared a lecture with San. Once he saw, he couldn't unsee. Choi San was glowing in the lecture room, his glow seemingly attracting people careless of their gender.

Wooyoung wondered how near-sighted he was to not notice anyone as popular in the class. The question about his sexual preference that lingered in the back oh his head was answered sooner than he thought.

"Good luck protecting your back virgin," Yeosang, his friend of good six years, taunted.

Choi San was a person in the limelight—only that Wooyoung was too occupied with his life to catch any gossip. According to this brand new information Yeosang was feeding him, San was gay, well-known for his wanton behaviour. He'd sleep with anyone so long as he was in a mood, however always sticking to no-strings-attached relationship. Strangely, Wooyoung imagined a butterfly—prettily dancing before one's eyes, that might land on your finger out of caprice, but never to be anchored.

"So, how safe is your virgin?"

"Pretty safe. The rule goes, no sex in the room."

"Oh."

"One more condition, to not fall in love with him."

Hearing that, Yeosang couldn't hold back the laughter. "To say that to the straightest man I've known."

Wooyoung simply shrugged in response. He turned back his head to look at San sitting at the back of the lecture room. He was still glowing.

In a week, Wooyoung learned that San was pretty chill and fun to hang around with. Wooyoung would sometimes throw downright questions and juvenile whines—because, oh boy, he was such an immature brat yet to be tamed—which San never failed to embrace in a soft smile and in a collected manner. There were several occasions Wooyoung wanted to check his identity card just so he could make sure they were the same age.

In a month, Wooyoung learned that San would often come back late in the midnight (or early morning), or never at all, leaving his bed unattended. In that first month, Wooyoung was actually pleased that he had a room all by himself, falling asleep peacefully without having to feel another person's existence in the darkness.

But in the second month, that was somewhat the reason for his insomnia, too curious to know his behaviour. Where does he alway go so late at night? Where does he stay if not in his room? However, those questions never left Wooyoung's mouth (although, he hardly knew how to hold back whatever pops in his head), probably because the answer was served right before his eyes; brand new purple stains on the plain white canvas of San's neck.

Wooyoung was too scared to ask. Too scared to hear the answer. With the unbothered personality of San, he wouldn't even hesitate to answer that question. But the bruises on his neck and chest were already too realistic, and Wooyoung was petrified of how wild his imagination would run if he ever heard of those details.

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It was only until Wooyoung got a ping from Yeosang did he remember he had an assignment to hand in tomorrow. Wooyoung was definitely not a bright student, but particularly hopeless in the English class. Which was why he ended up sleeping through the entire class, involuntarily or not, and which was probably why San's presence in the class wasn't registered in his head until recently.

He pulled out a worksheet crumpled in the bottom of his backpack and read the first line in an attempt to fill in. It looked gibberish. Wooyoung silently sighed seated at the desk of the dorm, carrying his head, when he heard the door open.

"Why do you look stressed?"

The other owner of the room stepped in, and Wooyoung instantly gulped at the sight. San's wet hair was dripping water as he ruffled it with a towel. As if his wet black hair and slightly flushed cheeks weren't captivating enough, he was topless—revealing his smooth honeyed skin, droplets rolling on the surface playfully, down to his torso where loose sweatpants hang dangerously low.

Wooyoung unconsciously fanned himself, and averted his eyes quickly, muttering a complaint, "don't you know how to dress properly?"

"I forgot to take my shirt, princess," San chuckled teasingly, grabbing the T-shirt that laid on his bed.

Was he strolling the hallway half naked?

"Princess?" Wooyoung grumbled.

"Why, you were practically drooling seeing a man topless."

"Hah, such a weak physique isn't worth my praise," Wooyoung scoffed, turning the pen in a circle with his fingers, keeping the act cool.

He wasn't shy. He was only startled. Why would he feel flustered looking at a man's body? Although San's delicate facial features were undoubtedly beautiful, as though of an empress in ancient Korea, androgynous somewhat, but his body was unmistakably man's. Well-shaped figure with fine muscles—not as built as Wooyoung, but toned.

So why should he feel agitated with just another man's body?

"Is that the English assignment?" San, who was now completely dressed, leaned down to look at the cause of Wooyoung's headache.

"Yeah...and you're going to wet the paper," Wooyoung warned, concerned at the droplets falling off San's damp hair. Sharing a room for two months, Wooyoung has caught several of San's habits. One was not coming back to the dorm at night (with God knows what he was up to), and another was that he didn't bother drying his hair.

"You're gonna catch a cold like that," for the first time, Wooyoung decided to let out his concern for San's habit.

San blinked several times at Wooyoung, before he said, "then dry it for me?"

Now it was Wooyoung's turn to blink at the man who was smiling brightly, rather childishly at him.

"No?"

"I'll help you with the assignment."

"Didn't know you were such a smart-ass?"

"I just happen to be a little good at it. At least better than someone who takes the class as a napping session," San shrugged.

Wooyoung pursed his lips. So, San noticed him. He was openly asleep in class and that was nothing to hide, but somehow he felt a little ashamed that San saw him. However, it was true that he snoozed off in class, and it was true that he was desperately in need of help.

"Deal."

A one-time contract was signed.