Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Kang Yeosang really has no idea what he’s doing here. This is very much not his scene.

There’s people everywhere yelling at each other over the obnoxious music (even though the music isn’t that loud). The entire house smells like weed and spilled beer. There’s enough smoke for a haze that permeates the air. People are gyrating on each other in random areas. He’s pretty sure whoever’s on the couch are trying to become one.

Yeah, he definitely doesn’t belong here.

Yeosang would much rather be back at his and Wooyoung’s apartment or holed up in the library considering he has more than one test he needs to be studying for.

But, his boyfriend - if that’s what he could be called - had invited him to this stupid party. In an effort to please said boyfriend, Yeosang had said yes. Then he’d made the crucial mistake of telling Wooyoung that he’d agreed to come and once that was done, there was no backing out.

He doesn’t know why he felt the need to tell Wooyoung. Perhaps it was just an excuse to talk to him. Yeosang has been kind of avoiding his best friend lately. And he’s missed him. Even though the reason they haven’t talked is entirely his fault.

In all honesty, Yeosang has been avoiding both of his closest friends and he feels terrible about it, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s kind of at the end of his rope.

It isn’t their fault that his best friends’ relationship hurts him so badly. They don’t know just how in love with them he is. They don’t know that Yeosang has been burying his feelings for Wooyoung since he was fifteen. They don’t know that for him, San was as easy to fall in love with as it is to breathe. They just don’t know.

So they don’t know that Yeosang’s wall of nonchalance has slowly, but surely been whittled away until it is now as thin as paper. All it will take is a little push and it’ll break. And he simply can’t let that happen.

So he’s been making up excuses to stay the night with their friends - Seonghwa and Hongjoong mostly. He’s been making up excuses to not hang out with them, to avoid even studying with them. Hell, Yeosang has even started making excuses to San for why he keeps missing their weekly workout mornings. Something that both of them genuinely look forward to. Especially after a week of draining classes. They’re silly excuses, though. As paperthin as Yeosang’s wall. And Wooyoung is starting to notice.

Maybe that was also a reason that Yeosang had decided to come tonight. To make one last attempt to not look like he’s avoiding them. Because if they ask why, what is he supposed to tell them? They’re allowed to be in love. They’re allowed to show that love in the comfort of their homes.

Even if one of those homes is an apartment shared with Yeosang who is forced to witness said love.

And the thing is, he’s been witnessing that love a lot these days. Sometimes, when he’s laying awake all alone in his bed, unable to sleep, he wonders bitterly if they’re doing it to him on purpose. He wonders if they know how he feels and they’re purposely putting their love on display to rub it in his face.

It isn’t a fair thought, as he knows both of his friends are not that cruel, but he can’t help noticing the shift all the same.

It isn’t like San or Wooyoung have ever been quiet about their love. But lately it’s like something has given way, and they’re more comfortable than ever flaunting it in front of Yeosang specifically. And the weirdest part about it is that sometimes he’ll catch one or both of them looking at him with a loaded expression that he can never seem to decipher. He doesn’t know what it means. He doesn’t know why the playful flirting with him has increased. All he knows is that he simply cannot take it.

Yes, he’s spent many years perfecting the art of pretending not to be in love with Wooyoung, and he’s spent the last two pretending that he wasn’t falling for San, as well. But, he’s only so strong. There’s only so much longing he can hide before it spills over and inevitably ruins his closest held friendships.

Wooyoung, and now San, is simply too precious for him to lose. So he has no choice but to keep everything inside. No matter if it seems like the men in question are doing everything they can to break him.

Yeosang’s ‘boyfriend’ is part of his desperate attempt to divert his own attention away from his best friends, but it’s not working very well. Jaebeom is hardly the first attempt, either. He’s simply the latest - and Wooyoung’s least favorite. His best friend has loudly voiced his dislike for the man multiple times, but Yeosang has done his best to ignore him.

It isn’t like he hasn’t tried to feel something for Jaebeom. He really has. Jaebeom is attractive, he’s not clingy, and the sex is fine. But, to be honest, if Yeosang had to describe how he feels for Jaebeom in one word, it wouldn’t be love. It would simply be ‘meh’. He isn’t exciting, he doesn’t push Yeosang in the ways he needs and wants to be pushed. And he doesn’t love Yeosang, either. That’s another thing. For Jaebeom - Yeosang thinks - everything is purely physical. Which is why Yeosang hesitates to even call him his boyfriend in the first place.

Sure, they hang out. But friends hang out, too. (Not that he would call them friends.) There’s something missing there. Something crucial. But Yeosang refuses to admit it. At least, he refuses to admit it out loud. He doesn’t want Wooyoung to be right.

Another reason for him to attend this stupid party, so that he can pretend to want to be around Jaebeom in front of his friends. Both San and Wooyoung are here, too. Somewhere. He hasn’t seen them in at least thirty minutes. And he is so incredibly bored. Not to mention uncomfortable. He’s lost count of how many shots he’s taken. The room has been spinning a little bit since his last one, which is more fun to focus on than whatever dull conversation is going on between Jaebeom and his friends.

He needs more alcohol.

Muttering to his boyfriend that he’s going to get another drink, Yeosang stumbles off through the house towards the kitchen. Once he makes it and procures a beer that he takes the initiative to shotgun, he lets out a low sigh.

The thought of going back to Jaebeom fills him with dread so he doesn’t hurry. It’s not like he’ll be missed. He doesn’t think he’s said more than two words to Jaebeom’s friends the entire time they’ve been here. They hadn’t bothered trying to engage him in the conversation, either. But, he’d been content to be his boyfriend’s eye candy, anyway. Socializing with people he doesn’t know is just too hard sometimes.

It is a shame that he decided to look good tonight, though. His skin tight jeans and tasteful crop top are really wasted on Jaebeom and his meathead friends. Maybe he’ll make Jaebeom work to take them off later. Though the thought of having sex with him tonight isn’t exactly pleasant. Maybe he’ll just take them off by himself later.

What a damn shame.

He’s been working out a lot lately. If only someone other than himself could see the results of his hard work.

Maybe even two someones.

Nope. Not gonna go down that path.

He finishes his beer and grabs another one. Not wanting to look like a loser, he decides to wander the house to see if he can find an empty room to hide in until it’s socially acceptable to want to leave.

He dodges and weaves through random groups of people and he opens a couple of doors to find randoms in various stages of sex. Ugh. This is a huge house for the rich, surely there’s just one room with no people.

At the end of the second story hall he opens the last door with little hope, and of course there’s people in here about to get busy. But Yeosang stops when he realizes just who is in here.

In the middle of what is clearly a guest bed, lies Wooyoung. San is straddling him, his hands pinning both of the other’s wrists above his head as they - very passionately - make out.

Wooyoung is practically writhing underneath of his lover, and it is the hottest thing that Yeosang has ever seen in his life. He can feel his blood immediately rush south and his limbs lock up.

He should leave. This isn’t right. He shouldn’t be watching them.

But he can’t move. All he can do is stare at them; their hands, their mouths, their breathless pants. They’re both still fully clothed (though, they have shed the coats they’d arrived in which isn’t surprising as Yeosang’s own coat is somewhere downstairs currently), but Yeosang is entranced by the sight of them. Wanting nothing more than to take those few steps towards them and touch, see, taste.

He wants San to pin him down like he’s doing to Wooyoung and take whatever he wants from him. He wants Wooyoung to kiss him with the same bruising force until there’s no air left in his lungs.

He wants all of that and more. So much more.

The strangled whimper he hears must emanate from himself because Wooyoung turns his head and his eyes fall on Yeosang where he stands spellbound in the doorway.

He doesn’t look upset to be caught, though. In fact, he smirks when they lock eyes, and it’s downright sinful.

“Sanie,” he says, and his voice is already wrecked. “It seems as if we have an audience.”

San pulls himself away from where he’d been sucking bruises into Wooyoung’s neck and he finds where Wooyoung’s gaze has traveled and follows it. The wicked grin that slowly spreads on his handsome face sends a shiver up Yeosang’s spine.

“Do you like watching us, Sangie?” San purrs, and his voice is a gritty tone that he’s never heard before. His mouth goes dry.

“I-I’m,” Yeosang swallows, “Sorry. I didn’t mean… I’ll leave.”

He doesn’t move, and he’s suddenly aware that he’s still holding the beer bottle. He wonders if it’s going to break from the force of his grip.

“I don’t see any reason for him to leave,” San says as he turns to look back at his lover, “Do you, Woo?”

Wooyoung presses his swollen lips together as if he’s thinking before he responds, “None that I can think of.”

“B-but… you’re… um…”

Wooyoung chuckles and San sits up to rest on his haunches, eyeing Yeosang like he wants to devour him. It’s almost too much to bear.

“Do you want to watch us, Angel?” San asks with a knowing grin. The nickname sends another shiver down his spine.

“I think he does,” Wooyoung answers for him. He’s not wrong, but Yeosang knows it would be a very bad idea.

“I… um… I shouldn’t…”

“Why not?” San challenges. And conveniently all of the reasons have flown out of Yeosang’s head. When he doesn’t answer, San laughs. “Do you need to be told what to do, Baby?”

“Oh, he loves being told what to do.” Wooyoung answers for him again, his voice full of mischief. “Right, Sang-ah?”

He can’t speak, his mouth is too dry.

San seems to take his boyfriend’s word for it, because he smirks as he says. “Close the door.” Suddenly the door closes behind him. San then raises a hand and curls his pointer finger towards himself. “Come here, Yeosang.”

Fuck.

As if he’s being pulled, Yeosang sees himself begin to step closer until he’s standing right next to the bed.

Wooyoung giggles, “See what I mean?”

San’s gaze flicks behind Yeosang before coming back, the heat held inside of it is beginning to melt him from the inside.

“Go sit down there.” San gestures to where he’d just been looking and Yeosang turns to see a chair. There’s suddenly a hand on his chin, turning his head back towards San who’s still looking at him so intensely that Yeosang swears he can feel it down to his toes. His face burns where San’s skin comes in contact with his.

For a terrifying moment, Yeosang thinks that San might kiss him and he’s surprised by just how much he wants that.

San doesn’t kiss him, much to his disappointment. He merely says, “Let us put on a show for you, Pretty Thing.”

He releases Yeosang’s face and the world spins a little as Yeosang stumbles into the chair just like he was told. With a shaky hand, he brings the beer bottle up to his dry lips and he chugs about half of it as San turns back to the man beneath him.

“Now, where were we?”

“I believe you were just about to start stripping me.” Wooyoung oh so helpfully provides with a shit eating grin.

Yeosang’s breath hitches at the thought but neither of them acknowledge it. It isn’t like he hasn’t seen Wooyoung in varying states of undress over the years, but he’s never seen him in this context. There is something very different about Wooyoung undoing his shirt buttons to change for physical education, than the way San’s nimble fingers go about taking them apart one by one as he finds Wooyoung’s mouth with his one more time.

They don’t stop kissing as San manages to pull the shirt from Wooyoung’s torso without lifting him off of the mattress. He throws the thing on the floor before his hands start to roam the exposed skin. Yeosang wishes he were closer so he could see if the action causes little goosebumps to arise in the wake of his fingertips. He shifts in his seat, gripping the armrests to keep himself from trying to move. San told him to sit here, so this is where he will watch.

That voice in the back of his head that screams at him that this is wrong gets quieted by Wooyoung’s gasp as San grips his waist.

“You gonna be good for me, Baby?” San asks his boyfriend, and Wooyoung just bats his eyelashes at him, looking almost as melted as Yeosang feels.

“Aren’t I always?” He purrs.

San laughs, “Only when you want to be.”

He leans back to pull his shirt over his head and throws it alongside Wooyoung’s before he dives back in, attacking the spot on Wooyoung’s neck that he’d been working on when he’d noticed Yeosang.

As expected, Wooyoung is not quiet. His moans are unapologetic as San begins working his way downward with his mouth, stopping as he reaches a nipple. As San begins to teases it with his teeth, Wooyoung’s hips buck upward and he exclaims, “Fuck!”

Yeosang is inclined to agree with the statement. He already feels like he’s going to burst and nothing has really even happened yet. How is he going to last until they're both fully undressed?

Oh God, he’s going to watch them fuck. He’s really sitting here, watching his two best friends have sex. What is wrong with him? Surely he’s going to Hell.

San starts teasing Wooyoung’s other nipple with his hand and his whines drive any thoughts out of Yeosang’s head except for the scene before him.

God, he wants to touch. He wants Wooyoung to make those noises because of him. He wants San to make him make those noises. Hell, he wants Wooyoung to make him make them, too. He wants them both to surround him, pressing him down into that mattress until they’re all that he can feel.

Fuck, he’s so hard he thinks that he might die if he doesn’t touch himself. But, San didn’t say anything about touching. Would Yeosang get in trouble if he did? He can’t find his voice in order to ask.

San decides to have mercy on his lover and he lets his now swollen nipples have a break as he kisses his way back up to his mouth. Their lips connect in a fit of passion and when San pulls away again, they’re both panting. For a moment, though, they simply look at each other and Yeosang stops breathing.

The matching expression on both of their faces is one of pure, unadulterated love and adoration. As if they simultaneously cannot believe how lucky they are to be in this situation. And suddenly, Yeosang’s common sense seems to catch up with his dick.

Because neither one of them have ever looked at him like that, and he knows deep down that they never will. The pain of that realization hits him squarely in the chest and he knows that he’s made a grave mistake. His wall has broken down and his emotions hit him like a wave released from a dam. His eyes sting as his head swims from both his feelings and the alcohol.

Stupid, stupid. He’s so fucking stupid. Why did he come in here? Why did he sit down? Why is he doing this? Whatever this is for Wooyoung and San, it’s clearly just for fun. But this isn’t fun for Yeosang. Not if he’s never going to get that look.

He stands so suddenly that he drops his beer and he makes San jump in surprise. Both men turn to look at him in confusion and Yeosang can only stutter out a, “S-S-sorry. I’m sorry. I c-can’t. I can’t.”

He doesn’t know what they see on his face before he turns away, but he can hear them call his name as he rips open the door and darts down the hallway.

Why is he so stupid? That was so stupid.

He needs air. His lungs feel like they’re in a vice grip and the stupid smoke in the air isn’t helping. Stumbling down the stairs, Yeosang doesn’t know how he avoids breaking his ankle before he reaches the bottom, but not all miracles are large.

People grumble at him as he pushes his way through them, uncaring of trying to be polite. He needs to get out. He needs to get away.

Just as he thinks he can make it to the front door, a figure blocks his path and he collides with a very solid chest.

“Ah, there you are, Babe.”

Fuck, it’s Jaebeom. Yeosang had forgotten he was here.

“Sorry,” He manages, “I need to leave.”

“What?” Jaebeom is clearly wasted, blinking at Yeosang through hazy eyes. His hands tighten around Yeosang’s biceps. “Shit, Babe, you look positively wrecked. You weren’t having fun without me, were you?”

Ha. Ha ha.

With no more preamble, Jaebeom descends on him, colliding their lips together as he pushes Yeosang backward until he hits a wall.

The surprise renders him immoble for a moment before the burn in his lungs reminds him that he hasn’t been able to breathe since he’d fled that bedroom.

Pushing at Jaebeom to get him to stop his onslaught, Yeosang tries to be firm as he says, “Get off of me, please. I need some air. I can’t stay in here.”

Jaebeom just blinks at him, clearly not understanding the no doubt crazed look in Yeosang’s eyes. “What are you talking about? Do you even know how hot you look right now? I’ve been wanting to jump you all night.”

If he were in a clearer state of mind, Yeosang might argue that it didn’t seem like he wanted that when he was busy talking to his friends, but he’s not so he stays silent and tries to push him away.

Jaebeom doesn’t like that and he shoves Yeosang back against the wall. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He asks, clearly starting to get belligerent. Yeosang really does not have the time for this. He’s going to suffocate where he stands.

“Let go of me!” He insists, putting a little more power behind his shove. Jaebeom stumbles back a little, which only seems to piss him off even more. So he pushes forward again, shoving his mouth onto Yeosang’s so forcefully that his head bangs into the wall and he’s pretty sure he just cut the inside of his lip with his tooth.

His mind unhelpfully provides him with an image of San and Wooyoung’s passionate kiss from only moments before and the juxtaposition of the love laced in that kiss, and the anger in this one hits him like a brick. The tenderness of their touches was nothing like the bruising grip on his waist. Is this all he’s destined to have? Is he fated only to watch those he loves love each other while he’s left with men who don’t care about him? What has he ever done in life to deserve this?

What if San and Wooyoung and all of his friends drop him just like his parents did when they ditched him on his aunt’s doorstep at seven and he’s only left with people like Jaebeom who can do nothing but take from him until there’s nothing left?

The overwhelming wave of sorrow gives him the strength he needs to shove Jaebeom off of him again, more forcefully this time. He goes stumbling backwards, almost falling on his ass, and Yeosang barely registers snickers coming from whoever is watching their display.

The laughter only seems to make Jaebeom properly angry, because he grabs Yeosang’s wrist in a painful grip and Yeosang barely registers that he’s lifted his other hand before his head is jerked to the side by a painful force that throws him off balance thanks to the alcohol in his system. He stumbles, but thankfully stays on his feet.

There’s a metallic taste on his tongue as he raises a hand to his face. The skin stings underneath of his fingers, but it’s nothing compared to the fire in Jaebeom’s gaze.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He slurs, clearly still drunk. He’s been pissy in the past when he’s been drunk, but he’s never been like this. Fear begins to squeeze at Yeosang’s already struggling lungs and white spots begin to dance in his vision. He wonders if he passes out if he’ll wake up in his bed so he can pretend that this was all a dream.

Before he can bring himself to his senses, a figure surges forward from his right and he has just enough time to register who it is before they’re throwing a punch directly at Jaebeom’s face.

The man must not have anticipated this and he finally drops to the ground, almost taking Yeosang with him. Luckily, his grip on Yeosang’s wrist loosens enough that he ends up alone.

“Don’t fucking touch him, you piece of shit!”

San’s vehemence startles Yeosang and he stares at what he can see of him. He’s put himself between Yeosang and the man on the floor who’s now clutching his nose, so all Yeosang can see is his back. He seems to have put his shirt and his coat back on, but the layers of fabric do nothing to hide how his shoulders heave. His fists are clenched at his sides, and Yeosang wonders what the expression on his face is. Though, maybe it’s lucky that he can’t see. San may not get angry very often, but when he does, it’s kind of scary to witness.

His burning lungs remind Yeosang that he can’t stay here so he turns away from whatever is going to happen and he rushes for the front door.

Once he manages to break out into the chilly autumn air he feels like he can finally take a proper breath. His legs carry him forward as he takes in gasping lungs full of air. His cheek and his bottom lip throb, but he ignores it as he pitches forward, not really sure where he’s going, just that he needs to go.

“Yeosang-ah!”

He barely registers someone calling his name until they appear in front of him, panting from exertion as they stop him in his tracks.

“Fuck, Yeosang, are you okay?” Wooyoung asks, not waiting for an answer and he takes Yeosang’s face gently in his hands. “That fucker. You’re bleeding.” The concern in his eyes is almost too much to bear and Yeosang clenches his eyes shut for a moment.

He can’t do this right now. He can’t be worried over by Wooyoung, he can’t have San coming to his rescue. He doesn’t need these things. He could have handled Jaebeom by himself. He can figure out his injury by himself. Why are they doing this? Why did they want him to watch? Why would they give him hope for something that won’t happen? How could they be so cruel?

“I’m fine,” He manages. His voice cracks which doesn’t help his argument, but he ignores it. He pulls Wooyoung’s hands from his face as he continues, “Go back to your boyfriend.”

There’s a strange hurt in Wooyoung’s eyes that Yeosang is not in the right state of mind to understand. “Are you crazy? I’m not leaving you alone like this.”

“I’m fine!” He insists.

“You are not fine!” Wooyoung fires back, trying to take his face again.

Yeosang can’t handle this, he’s still suffocating. So he pulls Wooyoung’s hands away from him again as he cries, “Stop! Stop it! Just stop!”

The hurt is still shining at him in Wooyoung’s face, but Yeosang can’t handle it. He is stretched so thin that he’s snapped and he just can’t do it anymore.

“What do you want from me, Wooyoung?” He asks, his voice cracking again.

Confusion marrs his best friend’s beautiful face as he stops trying to grab him.

“What do you mean? I want to help you.”

“No,” Yeosang shakes his head and the world spins a little. “I mean what do you want? Do you really pity me that much?”

This doesn’t seem to help as Wooyoung just shakes his head, “Pity you? For what?”

“For everything! Both of you!” He doesn’t know if he’s making sense, but he doesn’t really care. He has nothing left inside of him in order to care.

Wooyoung levels him with a helpless look and even now he feels guilty for putting it there, but what else can he do?

“I don’t understand. Why are you upset with me?”

Instead of answering the question, Yeosang asks another one, “What was with the show back there?” He gestures wildly back towards the house. “Why did you do that to me? Are you laughing at me?”

“Laughing at you? Sangie, why would we be laughing at you?”

“Because you clearly know how I feel! And you obviously don’t feel the same, so you thought it would be funny to rub it in my face!”

Wooyoung looks even more hurt by this and he shakes his head as he asks, “Sangie, how do you feel? Because I’ve been trying to figure it out and I can’t! You’ve been avoiding me, avoiding us. And I don’t know why. We’ve been trying to bring you closer, but you just keep pulling away. I don’t understand.”

God, he’s so tired. He’s so fucking tired of holding this secret. He just can’t do it anymore.

“I’m in love with you, Wooyoung-ah.” He says, unable to hold his gaze any longer.

“What?”

Fuck.

“I’m in love with you and I’m fucking falling apart. I can’t do this. I can’t watch you and San be in love with each other when I’m in love with both of you and you don’t even notice.”

“Yeo… Yeosang-ah,”

He closes his eyes again, shaking his head like he can rid it of this moment. “No, you don’t understand. It fucking hurts. It hurts so bad and I try so hard to replace you and it doesn’t work.” He hears himself let out a humorless laugh, continuing more to himself than to his friend, “Of course it doesn’t work, because no one else is you. No one else could ever be you.” He’s been so stupid for trying. But, he’s had no choice. What else could he do?

“Oh, Baby,” Wooyoung croons, and Yeosang feels his hands on his face again. He doesn’t try to take them off again, though. He doesn’t have the energy. “I had no idea… we didn’t think… we thought we would be guiding you. We didn’t realize we were hurting you.”

The words don’t make sense and Yeosang opens his eyes, blinking away what he realizes are his own tears as he tries to focus on the man in front of him. Wooyoung’s face is soft. So, so soft. The look in his eyes sends his heart into stutters because it’s one of love. The same kind of love that he’s seen him look at San with countless times before. The pure, unadulterated kind.

“W-what?” He hears himself asking, his voice barely above a whisper.

Letting out a long, low breath, Wooyoung answers, “We should talk more with Sanie, but… to answer your question, what I want from you is you, silly boy. We want you.” He shakes his head slowly, but that look of love never leaves his face. Yeosang can only stare as he continues, “You’re wrong, you know. You said that I don’t feel the same, but I do. I am so in love with you, Kang Yeosang, that it hurts. I’ll let Sanie speak for himself, but I have it on very good authority that he may feel quite similarly.” He chances a small smile and Yeosang thinks that he might be going insane.

“You love me?” He somehow manages to ask, breathy and hesitant.

“Yeah,” Wooyoung answers, much more assuredly than Yeosang feels. “I really do.”

“But… Sanie…”

Wooyoung laughs a little at this and his face somehow goes even more fond. “Yeah. I love him, too. Funny how that works, huh?”

Yeosang is so confused. This sounds too good to be true, like maybe Jaebeom slapped him so hard that he passed out and is now dreaming up a scenario in which he can finally have what he wants. He doesn’t think he can let himself believe it. At least not yet.

Wooyoung seems undeterred by Yeosang’s answering silence as he says, “Why don’t we find our Sanie and we can talk, okay? Something we probably should have done a lot earlier.”

Our Sanie? Oh, no. His stupid treacherous heart is starting to hope again and he doesn’t think he can handle it if he’s let down again. He might actually shatter into a million tiny pieces.

Wooyoung’s eyes suddenly move to look behind Yeosang and a small smile lights up his face.

“Speak of the devil,” he mutters and Yeosang turns to see a figure jogging up to them.

“Fuck, there you are.” San pants, stopping next to them. “Are you okay?”

Wooyoung huffs, pulling away from Yeosang to take one of San’s hands in his. “What about you, Fists of Fury? Look at your knuckles!”

Scoffing, San pulls his hand back. “Ah, it’s nothing. That asshole deserved it.”

“I’m not arguing with that. I knew he was a pile of trash from the moment I met him.” Wooyoung seems to be working himself up as he continues, “Maybe I should go back in there and knock his stupid fucking head from his shoulders, that fucking oaf.”

“Baby…”

A sudden chill has Yeosang shivering and he remembers that all that separates him from the night is his stupid crop top. But like hell is he going back into that house to find his coat. So he merely crosses his arms to try to stave off some of the cold.

San turns to him then, his eyes going round as he looks at him.

“Jesus, Angel.” He says. He raises a hand to Yeosang’s face, but it merely hovers as if he’s afraid to touch.

Fucking hell, if San calls him ‘Angel’ one more time, he’s going to phase through the damned ground and disappear into the aether.

Before he can understand that thought, he feels something warm drop onto his shoulders and he tears his eyes away from San’s troubled look to see that Wooyoung has taken off his coat and given it to him. He thinks about refusing it, but the thing smells so much like Wooyoung that it almost knocks him off of his feet. So, instead of refusing, he silently slides his arms into the sleeves and basks in the warmth.

“Why don’t we go home, huh?” Wooyoung asks them, all of his fire gone, replaced with something else that Yeosang doesn’t understand. “We can take care of our Yeosangie’s pretty face and we can talk.”

Even though San doesn’t know what has just happened between them, he must realize that they need to talk anyway, so he merely agrees with no further argument.

Wooyoung immediately grabs for Yeosang’s hand, clutching it tightly before he begins to pull him along and Yeosang tries very hard to convince himself that he’s being dragged towards something good.

As we walks, he’s caged between the both of them and he can’t decide if it’s good or bad. All he knows is that this is going to be the longest walk of his life.

What is he even doing?

The ten minute walk back to Yeosang and Wooyoung’s apartment had been more than enough time for him to overthink and now he’s second guessing his own memory of tonight’s events.

Thankfully it seems like the alcohol is no longer messing with his head, but Yeosang is fully convinced that he’s about to be dumped as he sits on his couch waiting for Wooyoung to come back out with the first aid kit. San had disappeared into the kitchen to get ice for his hand, and Yeosang had been left alone to fret.

He doesn’t know how he can be dumped when he was never with someone, but he is so sure that that’s what’s going to happen. San and Wooyoung are going to come out here and explain to him that him being in love with both of them is weird and wrong and he should be ashamed. He’s going to have to move out. He might not even see them again. What is he going to do? He can’t handle that!

“Hey, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Wooyoung’s voice startles him as the other sits down on the couch next to him looking concerned.

“Whatever it is,” Wooyoung continues, “Let’s leave it alone, shall we?”

“Are you going to kick me out?”

A laugh of surprise leaves his friend, who merely shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous. You know that?”

For some reason this eases Yeosang’s frayed nerves a little.

“Come here, love.” Wooyoung scoots closer, taking Yeosang’s chin in his hand gently as he holds up a damp towel. When he touches it to Yeosang’s lip, it stings and he can’t help finching as he sucks in a breath.

Oh, well… Jaebeom really did split his lip. Wow. What an asshole.

Wooyoung’s face scrunches in sympathy as he mutters, “Sorry,” But he goes back to cleaning the wound and Yeosang tries to sit still until he’s done. When he is, he rummages in the first aid kit on his lap and produces a tube of antibiotic cream. It doesn’t hurt as much when he delicately spreads it on the wound, but Yeosang is glad when he’s done.

Just as he finishes, San appears and plops down on Yeosang’s other side. Something cold touches his sore cheek and Yeosang turns to look at the man who is now holding a bag of ice to his skin.

His gaze is soft and he offers Yeosang a small, comforting smile. The expression has Yeosang’s heart doing enough backflips to land it in the circus and he wonders if these people are actually going to be the death of him.

But he realizes something as they wordlessly stare at each other and he tries to pull San’s hand away from his face.

“That’s supposed to be for you,” he mutters, “Your hand looks like it really hurts.”

San’s smile grows a little as he stubbornly keeps the ice against Yeosang’s cheek.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, his expression going a little mischievous. “We can share.”

“Speaking of sharing,” Wooyoung says as Yeosang feels him stand from the couch. He can’t look away from San to see what he’s doing, but his voice is farther away as he continues, “We need to talk. It seems our Sangie has come to some incorrect conclusions about our behavior recently.”

Shifting his gaze from Yeosang to his boyfriend with a frown, San asks, “What do you mean?”

Wooyoung’s voice comes closer again as he answers, “Why don’t you tell him what you told me, Sang-ah?”

Despite the ice, Yeosang feels his face begin to heat and he has a feeling that it’s embarrassingly red as he looks away from San, trying to squirm out of his grasp. He’d very much rather not repeat what he said in a fit of emotion. Can’t he just keep it to himself like he has been all these years? He really shouldn’t have opened his mouth.

The couch shifts beside him as San works to try meeting his gaze again.

“Hey,” he coaxes quietly, “What was it, Yeosangie? You can tell me.”

A pitiful noise leaves Yeosang’s body without his consent and Wooyoung seems to take pity on him as Yeosang feels his arms wrap around his waist. Despite everything, the touch still serves to help calm him a little. Wooyoung’s embrace has always meant safety. So he can’t help but feel that now.

With that safety comes his best friend’s voice speaking up for him when he can’t do it for himself. Just like it has so many times before.

“Yeosang seems to think that we invited him to watch us tonight to laugh at him.”

A deep frown tugs the corners of San’s mouth downward and Yeosang has the insane urge to reach up and smooth it back into a smile. He doesn’t move, though, knowing that would be inappropriate.

“Why would we do that?” San’s voice is quiet, as if afraid that he’ll startle Yeosang if he speaks too loudly.

Snickering, Wooyoung says, “My thoughts exactly.” Then he sighs and Yeosang feels him rest his head on his shoulder. “I think we went about things all wrong.”

“I told you we should have just talked to him.”

“And I told you that he wouldn’t talk to us if we tried. He’s too stubborn.”

Yeosang doesn’t like that they’re talking about him like he isn’t here. He tries to pull away from both of them, but it doesn’t work. Talk about stubborn.

“Can you two not argue over me, please?” Yeosang asks, frustrated with this entire situation.

San looks fairly chastised when Yeosang meets his eyes again, but he doesn’t argue any further. Maybe Yeosang should just get this over with. Maybe he can get the both of them to admit exactly what it is that they want from him. Was Wooyoung telling him the truth? Do they really just want him? And if they do, how badly do they want him? Is he just something that will spice up their sex life, or do they really, truly feel the same way that he does?

He’s tired of asking himself these things, so he finally resolves to speak out loud.

“Why did you want me to watch you tonight?” He asks, “Why have you been… looking at me and… touching me and… all the things you’ve been doing lately? Is it some kind of game to you? Am I just a bit of fun?”

San looks almost as offended as Wooyoung had and he all but shouts, ”No!” and it really does startle him.

The grip on his waist tightens as San finally pulls away from his face to play with the ice pack.

“That’s not what it was supposed to be,” he mutters, looking unsure of himself. “We wanted to… warm you up to the idea of being with us.” He looks back up at Yeosang, a small self-conscious smile on his face. Yeosang hates the sight of it. “We weren’t sure how you felt but… we hoped that you were feeling the way we suspected. Maybe we were cowards for not just talking to you, but we thought this would help bring you closer.”

He doesn’t say it, but Yeosang can see the sadness in his eyes as their actions had clearly done nothing but make Yeosang retreat away from them in his fear.

And tonight… maybe he wasn’t the only one getting desperate.

“We’re sorry if we made you feel like we were making fun of you,” Wooyoung says, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. “That’s not what we were doing. It wasn’t just for fun.”

“What… what was it, then?”

Leveling him with a determined look, San answers, “We like you, Yeosang. We like you, a lot.”

“We love you, Yeosang.” Wooyoung corrects him. “A lot.”

San blinks, looking sheepish as he nods, “Yeah,” He says. “We love you. I love you.”

All at once Yeosang realizes that they hadn’t spoken to him before this because they were afraid. Afraid of him? That’s absurd. Why anyone would be afraid of him is beyond him. But that’s what he sees in his friend’s eyes as he hesitates to say that he loves him. San is afraid of being rejected. By Yeosang.

What even is his life?

“San-ah…” What does he say? He loves them, too. Of course he does. But the question is, does he love them more than they love him? And if he does, what happens when they stop? What happens when they realize that adding Yeosang to their relationship just doesn’t work and they kick him out again? What is he supposed to do if he finally, finally gets everything he’s wanted only to have it torn away from him?

How will he survive that?

Suddenly, he feels suffocated with the both of them surrounding him like this and he panics a little, moving to stand up. They let him go this time and he doesn’t know what to make of it. With a little distance between them, he can only stare for a moment. They look back to him with matching wide eyes. He can see the longing on both of their faces. They want him, just like he wants them. But how long will that last?

“Yeosangie,” Wooyoung speaks up, “What are you thinking?”

He hesitates, taking in a few shaky breaths before he answers, “Are you really, really sure that you love me? It isn’t just… a proximity thing?”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, but San scrunches his face in displeasure. “A what? Yeosangie, if that were the case, we’d probably be in love with Jongho, too. But, we are very much not.”

The mention of their mutual friend - and San’s roommate - makes him feel a little silly. He begrudgingly admits that his friend has a point. After all, the couple has spent as many nights at San’s apartment as they have at Yeosang’s. Still, something inside of him is having a hard time just letting himself believe that they really, truly want him.

“Yeosang-ah,” Wooyoung starts, and he stands, slowly approaching Yeosang like he’s a wild animal who might bolt if he moves too fast. “Why are you so afraid?”

Oof. Right to the heart of it. Wooyoung has never been one for dancing around things. But that doesn’t mean that Yeosang likes that he’s being asked to lay his deepest fears bare to the two people whose opinions he cares about the most. So he relies on some good old-fashioned deflection.

“Why were you scared?” He all but snaps, “You said yourself that you didn’t want to talk to me even though you knew you should. Why are you scared of me?”

Unfortunately, Wooyoung with his healthy childhood and loving complete family has no qualms about expressing himself. It’s a trait that Yeosang has mostly always envied. Right now it just chips away at a little of his armor and he’s not happy about it.

With a huff, Wooyoung crosses his arms, looking none too pleased that Yeosang is dodging his question.

“Why do you think? I didn’t know how you feel, Yeosang. You never let me know. I could only guess. And what if I was wrong, huh? What if I misread things and you were freaked out or something and decided to pull away from me? What if I lost you because I couldn’t keep my feelings to myself? Do you know what that would do to me?”

“Young-ah,” San tries to calm him, reaching out to touch his elbow gently. It has little effect.

“You don’t know because no matter how many times I tell you what you mean to me, you never fucking believe me!”

That hits too close to home and he can’t stand it, so he lashes out the only way he knows how.

“If I mean so much to you, why didn’t you fall in love with me like you fell in love with San? Why did it take you so long?”

He remembers just how quickly the two had fallen into each other. Barely a few months of friendship and they’d already decided that they were soulmates. Why wasn’t Yeosang good enough for that? Why was he forced to hide how he feels for years and watch the man he loves fall in love with someone else? Is he really just their second choice? Maybe they want to include Yeosang now, but they’re both comfortable in the knowledge that they’ll always have each other no matter what. While Yeosang is left to wonder if they’ll one day get bored of him.

His question seems to have thrown Wooyoung because he blinks at him, gaping almost like a fish. Maybe he’s realizing the truth of Yeosang’s questions.

“You… what…” He’s struggling, but Yeosang knows him well enough to know that it isn’t because he doesn’t know what to say. He simply has so much to say that he can’t formulate the sentences in his head for a moment. But when he’s finally able to, he pins Yeosang with a withering glare and he says, “You have no idea when I fell in love with you, Kang Yeosang.”

That takes him aback a little and he just blinks.

“What?” Wooyoung continues, “Do you think that I fell in love with you just last week?” He pauses, crossing his arms more tightly, but it doesn’t seem like frustration that hangs on his frame. There’s something else there as he lowers his head. Something that Yeosang can’t quite make out.

“My sixteenth birthday.” He simply says, “My parents were out of town and I was devastated. We always spent our birthdays with the whole family, but they couldn’t make it that year. You… you could have told me to suck it up or something. Your parents didn’t even call you on your birthdays. Mine were just out of town. It was stupid of me to be so upset.” Yeosang flinches at the reminder of how much his parents don’t care about him, but he ignores it as Wooyoung finally looks at him again, his gaze vulnerable. “But you didn’t do that. You comforted me and you stayed with me and you made sure I still felt loved.” He breathes deeply before finishing with, “That’s when. So don’t act like loving you isn’t second nature to me by now.”

Yeosang can only gape at him. Has he really been in love with him for that long? Yeosang himself had only realized his feelings months prior to that day. Have they really been hiding this from each other for so many years? Why? Why could neither of them admit it? Why was it so easy for Wooyoung and San to admit it to each other? What is so fundamentally wrong with Yeosang that he can’t accept love towards himself?

With what seems like renewed confidence, Wooyoung dares to step closer.

“I’m not going to just wake up next week and decide that I don’t actually love you. I’ve had years to understand it.” He stops just in front of Yeosang who finds himself holding his breath and he doesn’t know why. “It’s not going anywhere, baby. I’m not going anywhere. You understand?”

For some reason, he does understand. And he actually believes him. If Wooyoung has been in love with him almost as long as he himself has, maybe he really does feel the same. Maybe losing Yeosang would be like if Yeosang lost him.

He can finally breathe again as he just lets himself believe that he can have Wooyoung. If nothing else, he can have this one person. Maybe even forever.

So he nods as relief floods through him and Wooyoung gifts him with a soft smile.

“I love you.” Yeosang hears himself say, voice strangely hoarse. It only makes Wooyoung’s smile grow.

“I know,” He answers softly. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see it.”

“It’s not your fault,” Yeosang shakes his head, “I hid it. I was too afraid.”

Raising a hand to brush back hair from his forehead, Wooyoung’s eyes say so many things that Yeosang had been afraid to see before. But they’re all right there, written in those beautiful brown eyes for him to see.

“No need to be afraid with me, Angel.” He replies, and dammit Yeosang shivers again.

A pout forms on Wooyoung’s face and Yeosang is confused until he says, “I really want to kiss you but I don’t want to hurt you.”

Oh.

Yeosang’s face heats as he realizes he can do that now. He can kiss Wooyoung like he’s fantasized about so many countless times since he was fifteen. He’s not going to let a stupid split lip stop that.

“You won’t hurt me,” He insists. “I’m fine.”

Sighing a little, Wooyoung leans in and Yeosang’s heart rate spikes. They’re about to kiss! He’s going to kiss Wooyoung!

His eyes flutter closed and he has to keep himself from holding his breath as he waits. Finally, there’s a gentle press of lips to the uninjured corner of his mouth, and they’re gone before he has the chance to reciprocate.

With a pout of his own that stings a little, Yeosang opens his eyes again to find his best friend - is that all that he is now? - grinning impishly at him.

“That’ll have to do for now,” he says. “Besides, you’ve got someone else to figure things out with.”

Oh yeah. San.

Moving his gaze behind Wooyoung, he finds the man in question still sitting on the couch, looking at them with one of his fondest expressions. It makes Yeosang’s heart skip a beat or two, especially when Wooyoung takes his hand and drags him back to the couch to plop him down right next to him.

“Hi there,” San says, his voice doing that thing where it goes really cute. It’s actually super unfair because Yeosang is very, very weak to that voice. It doesn’t help that he’s still got that dopey look on his face.

This is the worst.

“Hey,” Yeosang answers, and he can tell that he definitely does not sound or look anywhere near as cute, but really, who can?

Seeming to get ahold of himself, San takes in a deep breath before looking down at his hands where he’s thankfully got the ice pack resting on his knuckles where it belongs.

“Do you want to know a mildly embarrassing secret?”

This seems a bit random, but Yeosang is not in a hurry to admit his feelings and fears to his best friend’s boyfriend so he indulges it.

“Okay,”

San’s gaze flicks up to him before it goes back to his lap. “I actually noticed you first,” He says, and that is so not where Yeosang thought this was going.

“What?”

Raising his head, he looks behind Yeosang, presumably at Wooyoung, then back to Yeosang again. “I saw you before that fateful dance class.” Yeosang figures he’s talking about the dance class where he and Wooyoung had met San. In the very first session, Wooyoung and San had clicked instantaneously and the rest was history.

“You did?”

San nods, rubbing his neck self-consciously.

“You were sitting out in the quad by the water fountain. It was kind of like one of those cheesy romcoms that Woo loves so much.” He laughs, “I think you were waiting for someone, but you were reading and I was just walking by on my way to class and I literally stopped when I noticed you because you were so beautiful.” Yeosang feels his face begin to heat again and can’t help raising his hands to hide it.

The sad part is that he has no clue exactly when this could have been. Yeosang had developed his habit of studying at the fountain while waiting on Wooyoung to finish his sociology class pretty much day one of university. It just so happened that their schedules were almost lined up before their shared business class, so Yeosang had found the fountain and had decided it was the perfect place to wait. He wishes he had seen San that day. He wishes they could have made conversation. Not so he could have swooped in before Wooyoung got there. Simply because if he had, he would have known San for a week longer. A small amount of time in the grand scheme of the two years they’ve already been friends, but still.

“Wait!” Wooyoung interrupts, “I don’t know this story!” He sounds offended. Not because San was attracted to Yeosang first, but because San never told him about it.

“Because it’s embarrassing!” San counters, “I noticed Yeosang and the clouds parted just so like they were shining a light on him. I thought he was an angel!”

“Oh my god.” Wooyoung, the lame romantic that he is, seems to be eating this up. Yeosang very much wishes the floor would swallow him up. “Why didn’t you talk to him?!”

San huffs, “Because he was so intimidating that I got scared and ran away, okay?”

Wooyoung plops down on the couch then, causing Yeosang to wobble, but he refuses to come out from his hiding spot behind his hands.

“Oh my God, please tell me that you actually ran.”

“I did.”

Wooyoung shrieks in laughter and Yeosang just really wants to disappear as his friend slaps him in the shoulder a few times. He is as intimidating as a maltese for crying out loud! As he is so often reminded by his friends. Why would San run away from him?

”Anyway,” San says over Wooyoung’s laughter, “That was like a week before the class started and when I saw you again there I was too embarrassed to admit it, and Wooyoungie was there and… yeah.”

Wooyoung quiets again and Yeosang has the sneaking suspicion that they’re giving each other heart eyes so he resolves to stay behind his hands for a little while longer.

His haven is, sadly, short lived as he feels someone tugging on his wrist only moments later.

“You should be careful so you don’t hurt yourself,” San says, managing to move the hand that’s resting on his sore cheek and replacing it once more with the ice pack.

With the gesture now pointless, Yeosang lowers his other hand and clasps both of them together.

“I’m okay, San-ah,” He mutters, unsure what else to do in the wake of San’s now intense expression.

“I saw him push you against the wall,” He says very unexpectedly. “It took me a minute to process because I can’t fathom how someone would treat you like that.” He frowns again, his eyebrows knitting together. “When you pushed him off I was just gonna lead you away so things didn’t get any more physical.” He pauses, “But then he fucking slapped you and I wanted to kill him. I seriously contemplated it.”

This is making him uncomfortable and he can’t help but squirm as he reassures, “I’m okay, Sanie. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“Not a big deal?” San retorts, incredulous. “Are you serious?”

Yeah, maybe it wasn’t his favorite experience, but he’d had very little emotional investment in Jaebeom. If he never sees him again, he isn’t going to be sad about it. In fact, it’ll be a load off of his shoulders. It is very much not a big deal.

Clearly San doesn’t feel the same way, though.

“Anything that hurts you is a big deal,” He insists. “No one gets to do that to you. No one. And he’s not going to come near you again. I promise.”

The heat behind his words and in his eyes takes Yeosang aback. Does he really feel so strongly about this?

“S-Sanie…”

“Look, Yeosangie…” He hesitates as if he’s trying to work out how to say what he wants to say in his head, “I may not have been in love with you since I was sixteen. Although, if I’d known you then I probably would have been,”

Ugh, why is he determined to keep Yeosang a blushing mess through this entire conversation? What is he even saying? He squirms again, but San ignores it.

“And it’s true. I did fall for Wooyo first,” He gives Yeosang a small smile, “But, you’ve met him. He doesn’t give you a choice but to love him right away, you know?”

At this, Yeosang can’t help but smile back a little. He has a point, after all. “Yeah. It’s really annoying.”

“Hey!”

They both ignore the man’s offended intrusion and continue.

“The point is… just because it hasn’t been that long, it doesn’t mean I’m not absolutely crazy about you. You can ask Wooyoung. I’ve been really annoying about how much I like you ever since we talked about it.”

That’s something Yeosang hadn’t thought of. When did San and Wooyoung talk about him? When and how did they admit to each other that they both love him, too? It’s odd to think of such a conversation taking place, at all. It seemed to have gone well, at least. If they’re here now.

Still, he wonders just how much they’ve talked about him together. He wonders how many times they’ve talked about wanting him to join them. There’s something strangely comforting about imagining the both of them being just as unsure about all of this as he has been.

“It’s true,” Wooyoung says. He wraps his arms around Yeosang again and this time he doesn’t feel suffocated by their presence all around him. This time it doesn’t feel so overwhelming. If anything, it’s comforting. And it gives him that treacherous hope that he is, for once, truly loved.

“Are you sure?” He can’t help asking, anyway. “Are you sure it isn’t just because of how Wooyoung feels?”

With a heavy sigh, San shakes his head, “Silly Sangie. I would feel this way even if Wooyoung didn’t. The only difference then is that I would have to suffer staying away from you. But, right now, as things are… I really, really, really want to be with you. If that’s what you want, too.”

Yes, that’s what he wants. He wants it so badly that he can feel it like a physical ache in his chest. But San isn’t Wooyoung. He isn’t a guarantee. He’s unpredictable and terrifying. He was a breath of fresh air when Yeosang met him. And he’s become so, so important to him. So kind and so gentle and so incredibly lovely. Yeosang couldn’t even bring himself to hate him when it was clear that he was stealing Wooyoung away from him. Because even though San had committed the crime of falling in love with his best friend, he’d also been there for Yeosang when he needed him. He’d also always made sure to make time with him, too. He’d always been supportive and attentive and genuine.

There is no life in which Yeosang wouldn’t fall in love with him.

Maybe he won’t get to keep San forever. Maybe eventually San will realize that his infatuation with Yeosang is fleeting. But even if that does happen, maybe it’ll have been worth it to have whatever short time he can have with him. Maybe being hurt later will be worth it if he gets to be happy now.

Yeosang has never been truly happy. There’s always been something he’s longed for. Whether it’s his parents’ love or Wooyoung’s heart or San. Maybe he can’t have everything he wants, but he can at least have this. If only for a little while.

San lowers the ice pack then and brings both of his hands back up to cup Yeosang’s face oh so gently between them.

“I trust you, Kang Yeosang.” He says, and he’s so close that Yeosang can feel his breath on his skin. His eyes are wide, vulnerable. He is so beautiful that it hurts. How can Yeosang ever deny him anything?

“Do you trust me, too?”

Fuck it. He is not strong enough to say no. He’s not strong enough to pull away. Not when he’s here, with everything he wants begging him to take it.

“I trust you, Sanie.”

He hears his lisp making an unwanted appearance and it makes him flinch, but San just smiles so widely you’d think someone just told him that he won the lottery.

“Just so we’re clear,” The smile doesn’t leave his face, as if he can’t believe what he’s saying, “This is us getting together, right? I can tell everyone that you’re mine?”

The question spreads a warmth through his body that leaves a hunger in its wake. Yes, he wants San to tell everyone that Yeosang belongs to him. He’s tired of longing. He’s ready to have this. He’s ready to be owned.

So he nods in reply and it’s like someone struck a match and lit the man in front of him on fire. That same hunger that Yeosang feels begins to burn in San’s eyes and if he doesn’t kiss Yeosang right now he’s literally going to burst into flames.

But he isn’t going to wait to see if San will deem it safe. He made that mistake with Wooyoung a few minutes ago. Even with his best friends’ propensity for babying him, he’s not made of glass and he’s not going to break. If that were true, he would have shattered years ago when all he wanted was for Wooyoung to love him back.

So before he can be shot down again, Yeosang surges forward in a move that clearly surprises both men and he presses his lips to San’s eagerly, clutching at the front of his shirt so he can’t pull away.

He doesn’t try, though. Instead, he makes a noise of wanting in the back of his throat and he reciprocates easily, the hands on Yeosang’s face holding more tightly as if he’s afraid that Yeosang will pull away now that he’s here.

His lips are soft and inviting, his kiss is tender; so tender that Yeosang wants to melt in his seat. It’s better than anything he’d come up with in his wildest fantasies. There’s a low noise in the back of his throat, a breathy whine that would have embarrassed him had he uttered it in any other context. But right now, he can’t bring himself to care. And it seems to only embolden San even more, as he opens his mouth. His tongue licks at Yeosang’s lips and Yeosang can only give him what he’s asking for, his jaw loosening to provide access. He presses himself closer and San moves his hands so that he can wrap an arm around Yeosang’s waist and thread his fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck with the other.

Oh fuck, is this what an out of body experience is like? Everything around him has fallen away, and all he can feel, hear, taste is San. And he never wants to leave this hazy place. If he could, he would drown in it forever.

Eventually, though, he comes back to his senses enough to hear Wooyoung complaining loudly next to them and San, unfortunately, pulls away so that they can breathe. He doesn’t go far, though, content to pant heavily into Yeosang’s shoulder.

“Great. Are you two done, now?” Wooyoung’s voice reaches his ears and it sounds huffy.

Moving his head to find the source of grumpiness that is his best friend - or wait, his boyfriend. The word sounds much better in relation to Wooyoung than it ever had with Jaebeom. He finds the man kneeling in front of them, clear jealousy in his eyes as they dart between them. The sight has Yeosang chuckling. Who’s fault is it that they aren’t making out? It isn’t Yeosang’s.

“No one is stopping you from joining in,” He says, and even he can admit that he sounds a bit wrecked. The sound clearly triggers something inside of Wooyoung because his darting eyes stay on his face. They flick to Yeosang’s probably swollen lips as if he’s still worried about hurting him. In all honesty, his bottom lip does throb a bit, but it is so fucking worth it that he can’t complain.

“I’m fine, Wooyo,” He insists, because he really wants to kiss Wooyoung right now. “Please kiss me.”

The pleading tone is all it takes and Wooyoung is coming to him like he’s been set free. His hands go to Yeosang’s face where San’s had been only moments before. His lips capturing his as if to claim. His kiss is more urgent and needy, like he’s been waiting for this moment just as long as Yeosang has.

Yeosang’s hands untangle from San’s shirt and reach out for Wooyoung where his arms go around so he can grasp onto his shoulder blades, his fingernails digging in as if to make sure nothing can rip him away. San begins to nuzzle his face into Yeosang’s neck and his greedy lips latch onto the skin, drawing a moan from him that goes right into Wooyoung.

Wooyoung pulls away enough to speak against his lips as he says, “Fuck, Sangie, I want to take you apart.” He presses against him again, as if even the distance required to speak is too far. Yeosang hears himself whine again at the thought. He has no idea what that means, but he knows that he wants it. Fuck, he wants it.

“Mine,” Wooyoung speaks again. “My Sangie.”

“Yours,” He can only agree shortly before Wooyoung is pushing him, rearranging him so that he’s sitting back against the couch and Wooyoung is now in his lap. Somehow, San is still attached to his neck and Yeosang feels his hand slip underneath his shirt, his fingertips dancing along the skin of his stomach in no particular pattern. He shivers at the sensation and it only seems to spur him on as his hand begins to travel higher up until his fingers brush one of his nipples.

Oh God, he really is going to drown in them. If they keep at him like this he’s going to be pulled completely under with no hope of ever resurfacing.

Unfortunately, the moment doesn’t last forever, and Wooyoung pulls back to allow them to breathe. San keeps his hand splayed just beneath Yeosang’s ribcage, but he pulls away from Yeosang’s neck to give him some reprieve.

As he opens his eyes, he spies Wooyoung looking down at him, his pupils blown wide. He can only stare up at him in wonder. How could he be so lucky? Is this a dream? It’s not like it would be the first of its kind for him. But, if it is a dream, it’s the most vivid one he’s ever had, and he very much does not want to wake from it.

Something akin to sadness flickers to life in Wooyoung’s eyes, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. Yeosang isn’t sure why he would be sad right now, but it might have something to do with his next statement.

“Oh, my baby you’re so beautiful.” He croons, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. “I’ll never deny you anything ever again,”

He isn’t exactly sure what Wooyoung is talking about, but he’s not complaining. But, really, everything he could ever want is right here, so he has nothing else to ask of him.

San seems to find the words amusing and he chuckles softly, leaning forward to press a kiss to Wooyoung’s temple. “That’s a dangerous claim to make, baby.” He teases softly. “Who knows what kind of depraved things our angel is hiding in that pretty head of his.”

Yeosang feels himself shiver again and Wooyoung pulls back with a smirk.

“Oh, you like the sound of that, Angel?” He asks, “Want to ask for some naughty things?”

Yeosang swallows, unsure of how to answer. There are very many naughty things that he wants from them. His fantasies are proof of that. But he has no idea how to ask for them. Or even when asking for them would be appropriate.

“Don’t overwhelm him, Woo,” San gently chastises him. “We should probably go over a few things before we get into anything more.”

With a long suffering sigh, Wooyoung pulls away from Yeosang, dropping his hands from his face.

“I hate that you’re right,” He says, but he offers Yeosang a small smile and an explanation, “Sanie and I do things a little… differently than most people. At least, most of the time.”

Yeosang isn’t sure what that means, but he knows that he’ll do absolutely anything they ask of him right now, so he doesn’t think he’s very picky.

“How are you feeling, Sangie?” San asks him, and the hand on his abdomen begins to move in soothing motions.

He doesn’t think he can really find the words to explain how he feels. Like he’s inside of a fantasy, like he must have somehow ended up in a coma because that’s the only way he can picture his deepest desires coming to life like this. So much tension and longing has lifted off of him and he feels boneless. It’s overwhelming.

His vision blurs unexpectedly and he squeezes his eyes shut as his throat constricts. Ugh, no. This is so embarrassing. He doesn’t want to cry in front of them. Not for this.

He hears Wooyung suck in a sharp breath before his hands are back on his face, his thumbs gently pressing just below his eyes.

“Baby, why are you crying?” He asks, immediately concerned.

Yeosang shakes his head, taking Wooyoung’s wrists to lower his hands. The gentle kindness is only going to make it worse.

“I think we might have overwhelmed him a bit,” San says unsurely, and Yeosang can only nod in confirmation.

“Oh,” Wooyoung sounds pouty but he diligently crawls off of Yeosang’s lap. San’s hand disappears from under his shirt and all at once he realizes this is worse.

His eyes fly open and he reaches out to keep Wooyoung from moving too far away.

“Wait!” He pleads, “Don’t leave me!”

Settling next to him, Wooyoung looks a little lost as his eyes dart to San, “I’m not going anywhere, love.” He assures. “I’m just giving you a little room to breathe.”

As if to prove his statement, he twists to break Yeosang’s hold on him and immediately laces their fingers together with a comforting squeeze.

Satisfied that he’s not leaving, Yeosang switches his attention to San who offers him a fond smile and takes his other hand. The purple bruises on his knuckles make Yeosang’s stomach turn a little and he can’t help bringing their hands up so he can press his lips gently to the discolored skin.

As he lowers their hands again, he notices San’s eyes have gone wide and sparkly and he looks so beautiful that Yeosang really wants to kiss him again, but he figures maybe he should take a moment to figure out his own brain.

It may be overwhelming, but there’s one thing that he knows for sure. He’s happy. For the first time maybe ever, he’s really, truly happy. With his two best friends right here ready to give him the world, he knows that whatever may come in the future, at least he has this, at least he has them.

And he can’t really ask for anything more than that.