perhaps, you | woosan

Chapter Twenty Two

POV: San

What San recognised was a familiar tired ceiling of his room. It took him a while before he understood he was back in his room, laying on his bed. His brain felt like it was pierced with countless daggers, alcohol still lingering heavy on his body.

"You're awake?"

A familiar voice was heard right next to him. A familiar one—since long ago, which he desperately wished to erase, of that he was succeeding in recently with Wooyoung by his side.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Yunho?"

"I brought you here because you collapsed in front of me. Shouldn't you be thanking me?" Yunho was sitting right next to him, too close for San's liking. Knowing San wouldn't thank him, not dwelling on the words he said, Yunho brushed the head of the huge plushie gingerly, familiar to the two of them. "I didn't think you'd still have this buddy here."

"Well, it's not his fault that the one who bought him was a dick," San muttered bitterly, embarrassed to have Yunho find out about Kuma. He grabbed the soft object by its leg and threw it off the bed to hide his existence, a little too late.

Hoping to change the topic, San grumbled, "and what the fuck were you doing at Hongjoong's party, again?"

"I...uh...," his eyes wavered, finding the right words to say, but San knew he probably would never.

"Mingi, huh?"

And the tall man shut his mouth. Song Mingi, San repeated the name in his hazy mind. He probably should ask Hongjoong to prohibit that man from entering his house, too. If he were to bring this human around.

"No, fuck him," Yunho snapped.

"Oh, you're planning to switch?" San laughed mockingly.

"No, San. I fucking don't care about him. He was with another girl again. He doesn't care about me," Yunho slurred on his words, evidently drunk like San, if not more.

"To this day, I still don't know why I let go of your hands, San...I regret it," he whispered slowly, caressing the other's cheek. San shivered at the familiar touch.

"Yunho," San called his old lover's name, trying to put in as much restricting tone as he could in the voice, which diminished under the effect of alcohol.

"San, please...I feel lonely," Yunho breathed. He was too close. San felt his hot intoxicated breath on his lips.

"San, I miss you."

And that was it. The all too familiar musk scent of Yunho tickled his nostrils, draining every sense of reasoning. The current roommate's prior intimacy flashed at the back of his brain randomly. He was broken. But he needed more. He wanted to be broken, he wanted to be spoilt, wasted, torn, ripped to the point he could lose his ability to think.

Their lips met. Among the flavour of alcohol, San recognised the taste he had long known.

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POV: Wooyoung

Wooyoung kept on sealing her lips with his, his hands roaming over her body, when he abruptly backed off.

The girl furrowed her eyebrows, displeased. "What?"

He opened his mouth in an attempt to recover his shameful act, but he found nothing coming out. He couldn't really understand, but he wasn't enjoying this.

What the fuck, Jung?

He came to this party to redeem his straight status. He had found an attractive girl, who is willing to give him that chance, to say what? I'm not feeling it?

His brain scolded him to get back to what he was doing but his body refused to listen.

The girl looked at the frozen boy and sighed. "It's okay, don't force yourself."

"But I'm not-"

"You think I'm dumb? I literally get it when you're not into it," she rolled her eyes, straightening her slightly messed up attire. "Your kiss was sloppy, it's clear your mind wasn't here."

"That's not-"

"Make a move on me when you're ready, bubs," she flicked Wooyoung's nose before she left with a relaxed smirk.

Wooyoung stared blankly at her back disappearing in the crowd hustling and bustling. He literally couldn't understand. He hated to admit, he truly, absolutely, definitely didn't want to, but kissing her reminded him of the last time in the party when he was kissing his roommate—Choi San. The two figures overlapped, making it terrifyingly obvious on their differences and the heat he was feeling.

Kissing San was like a drug. He didn't know when to stop, he was never satisfied, he wanted more—because it was exhilaratingly good. Kissing the girl didn't even come with a fraction of that stimulation.

Wooyoung wandered in the house, losing every passion of making out with a girl. Instead he found himself looking for a black haired male, he had grown to notice every detail of. The room was a hot spot of highly roused people, one of it being a tall guy, his physique modelesque, with sharp eyes bending down to kiss a girl. He probably looked like that earlier on (minus the height), and it irked him. He then found Yeosang, who was safely enjoying the darts game.

"Yeo," he approached him, gaining his attention.

"Did you score?" Yeosang asked, his voice bouncy probably due to some drinks.

Wooyoung pursed his lips dodging the question. "Did you see San?"

With a mention of that name, Yeosang's smiley face disappeared. "Yes."

"Where's he?"

"I don't know. He went out carried by Jung Yunho. He seemed to be wasted," he scoffed.

"Jung Yunho?"

"His ex roommate and his ex boyfriend. They used to live in that room of yours."

Those words stirred something in Wooyoung. He felt agitation swell in him. Something didn't feel right.

"I'm leaving."

"Where are you going?" Yeosang asked, grabbing the frustrated man's arm.

"To my dorm, he could be back."

"He could be. With Yunho. Having sex?"

Yeosang's words only seemed to fuel Wooyoung's irritation.

"He won't! We promised we won't!"

With that, he shoved off Yeosang's gripping hand and stormed off the house, swearing at his legs that couldn't catch up to his beating heart.