perhaps, you | woosan

Chapter Three

POV: Wooyoung

Wooyoung sat on his bed, San on the floor resting his back on the bed frame, while his body settled in between Wooyoung's legs. He was amused to see San from such an angle, given that they were about the same height (he hated to admit he was slightly shorter than the other, claiming two centimeters was just an error).

The usual San looked unconquerable, intimidating also, that air surrounding him almost swallowed Wooyoung whole. But now looking at San's hair whorl, his figure falling in between Wooyoung's legs perfectly, he instead looked like a child, arousing the need to protect this dainty being. More so as he leaned in to the hot air blowing his hair without defence, giving himself up to the cozy feeling of someone ruffling through his hair.

Wooyoung wasn't used to taking care of someone. Heck, he couldn't even take care of himself. Which goes without saying that he had never picked up a hair dryer taking part in someone else's labour. This clearly was something. And strangely, Wooyoung found this quite comfortable.

"This feels good," San mumbled, his eyes narrowed like a dog that was being cradled it's stomach might. "Would you want to be my personal hair dryer?"

"What do I get in return?"

"Help with English assignments?"

"Aren't you asking for too much?" Wooyoung chuckled under his breath, raking the other's soft hair now almost dry.

"Too bad," San muttered disappointedly.

Even though his offer was turned down, San diligently paid for the favour, helping Wooyoung out with his assignment for the rest of the night.

POV: San

San strode in the cafeteria, intending to grab something to fill his growling stomach when someone called his name.

"Choi San!"

Turning his head to the voice that had grown to become familiar to him, he found the man he'd guessed—Jung Wooyoung, and another person next to him who he knew the face of, but not the name.

Wooyoung, reserved at the table, waved at him with a bright smile on his face, asking, "why don't you join us?"

San had no other plan, so he agreed with a smile, excusing himself briefly to go get something to bite. Behind him, he could hear Wooyoung's company nudging him glumly, "what's happening?"

"He helped me with the English assignment. What's wrong with eating lunch together?"

The previous class before lunch break was the English class, and San saw Wooyoung proudly handing in the assignment he had successfully completed—thanks to San. Or more precisely, it was more or less San's work, rather than the person in charge, because honestly Wooyoung was just that hopeless.

San found Wooyoung interesting. At first he thought he was another homophobic brat who was persistent to declare his identity as straight as if any other sexual preference was criminal, and that obstinate macho guy who'd count values on man being manly taking a guy hugging plushie to sleep as the most weakest of the being.

But as San spent two months with him, he had learnt that he was just painfully honest and clueless, rather dumb, where most people would find him immature and annoying, but somehow San found him cute. Like how even though he was clear on the point that San was gay, he was enthusiastic to share lunch time with him. He was too pure. San guessed Wooyoung was someone who'd judge on his instincts rather than information that others fed him with—a trait to be admired.

San was also too experienced to let Wooyoung's intent gaze slip through his cognition. He was very well aware of how the boy seemed to have difficulty looking away from San, stealing a glance every chance he got. Wooyoung probably thought he was doing it in a very subtle way, but San had long noticed it. Only, he wouldn't tell. Because he enjoyed teasing him more than he should.

Yet, the condition stands. No sex, no relationship in the same room. When love is in close proximity, everything seems jubilant at first. That only lasts for a short while, until everything goes tumbling down, crushing your heart with that exact proximity. San knew too well. And he was too over and done with it.

Grabbing a sandwich and an iced americano San sat down at the table with Wooyoung, and his friend whose face displayed 'discontent' as Wooyoung seemed to have failed in convincing the third party to join. But San was all too used to such unwelcoming gestures, that he didn't even bother.

"San, this is my friend of six years, Kang Yeosang, who I haven't found a way to get rid of," Wooyoung joked, earning a shot of glare from Yeosang.

"Nice to meet you, Yeosang. I'm Choi San," San, giving out a friendly smile that he was well accustomed to, fished his hand out, which Yeosang shook hesitantly, probably not wanting to be that bitch.

"Didn't know you two got so close?" Yeosang commented, shifting his eyes back and forth in between the two.

"We are roomies. Shouldn't we be on good terms?" Wooyoung shrugged.

"Good enough to dry other's hair," San winked at Wooyoung teasingly, in which Wooyoung replied with a flustered cough.

"What??" Yeosang exclaimed, demanding Wooyoung for an answer.

"It's nothing," Wooyoung coughed, clearing his throat of that sour orange juice. "It was just San's condition to help me out on the assignment."

Yeosang hung his mouth open in disbelief. Whatever ran through Wooyoung's brain was a mystery, as he found an opportunity to stuff marshmallows he was munching on in Yeosang's mouth, which was returned by a slap on his head. Clearing out two marshmallows Wooyoung successfully popped in, Wooyoung asked. "Are you still straight Woo?"

"The fuck? Yes, I am!" Wooyoung protested strongly, until the following line followed deflatedly. "I just need some meetups with girls."

San laughed at how Wooyoung dropped his shoulders. Then suggested, "I know a good place to find people."