PART 1 (you are here) | PART 2 | PART 3
Wooyoung dragged San forward, breath freezing in his lungs as he pressed their foreheads firmly together. He clenched his jaw until he was certain he heard a tooth crack and squeezed his eyes shut until he saw bursts of light behind his lids. Every moment felt like agony, Sans battered body swaying slightly on his feet as exhaustion made him near-pliant.
This couldn't continue and Wooyoung loved San enough to let him go. He would be fine, he’d get another manager (a better manager,) one that didn't push him too far or put him in danger, and eventually Wooyoung would become nothing more than the blip at the edge of his memory.
But he would never forget San; the sea could never forget the land, the moon could never forget the sun, and Wooyoung could never, ever forget the force of nature that was Choi San.
“You did good, Sannie,” he could feel his breath fill the space between them, spackle in the gaps. “Go rest now.”
San’s cross-eyed gaze and lopsided smile tore at Wooyoung’s heart like a cat’s claws against a muslin curtain.
“We’ll celebrate tomorrow, yeah?” He asked and Wooyoung, the coward that he was, smiled and gently squeezed the back of his neck.
“Yeah, we’ll get everyone together. Drinks on you.” He joked and hoped it was convincing, hoped San didn’t see the viscous ichor that bubbled up his throat and threatened to choke him on his falsehoods.
Just one more day. He’d give San (and himself, always selfishly thinking about himself) just one more day before he went back to his old life and vanished from San’s. It was foolish of him to think he could continue the charade, to shirk his duties and abandon his family. His rebellion was not worth San’s life and he was not worthy of San.
Wooyoung felt like he spent the first half of the day with a weight pressing down against his shoulders, crushing him further and further into a hole he dug with his own greedy hands. Now, hunched over his drink in the corner of the club he stared down at those hands - hands that tainted everything they touched. He should be smiling, mingling, putting on a show, but thankfully everyone was focused on San tonight (just as he deserved.)
“Youngie!” Well, almost everyone except the man himself.
“Hey baby,” His muscles almost cramped with how quickly he grinned, his entire face no doubt lighting up like a lake in the morning sun. It was easy when San shone so brightly; he just wished his eyes sparkled in his reflection but he knew their luster had dimmed tonight.
“You’ve been sitting here most of the night. C’mon, let’s get some fresh air.” San urged, arm around his shoulders and tipsy body swaying against him. It had barely been an hour but San never could hold his alcohol. Sometimes Wooyoung was jealous.
“Alright, alright. Get up, let’s go.” He shoved at San’s side until he was standing from the booth. He hadn’t expected San to grab his wrist and practically drag him towards the back exit, the one that wasn’t for public use but the manager had never stopped them from using whenever they wanted to creep home unseen.
“Sannie what-” Wooyoung’s breath was stolen from his very lungs as his lips parted and hands raised on instinct alone. He groaned as the taste of strawberry Jinro and cigarettes swept across his tongue, the taste of ash not dissimilar to the taste of his own self loathing. He trailed his hand from San’s shoulder, up the strong column of his neck, and to the slightly grown out hair at the nape of his neck. It was just enough to get between his fingers and tug before directing San’s overactive lips down to his neck.
A puff of air escaped him, visible in the cold air of the back alley. The neon light that illuminated their bodies almost seemed like it was flickering in beat with his own heart; bathed in color and buzzing with the strain to stay alive. It would be better if someone just put the light out.
“Where are you?” San asked, head resting against his shoulder and glassy eyes pinched in concern as he looked up at Wooyoung, seemingly tracing every detail of his face. He always seemed to linger beneath his eye and on his lips.
“Sorry, Sannie, guess I drank more than I thought.” He laughed, arching his back slightly as he urged San back into a kiss. “C’mon, don’t stop now.”
One last time. He wanted to give himself to San one last time so he could cling to the memory when he lay in over-starched sheets that smelled of expensive detergent, alone. He wanted to remember the caress of San’s calloused hands against his skin as he tugged on suits he couldn’t remember buying from designers he’d never even heard of.
“I love you,” San whispered against his collarbone and Wooyoung hoped he didn’t hear the thick swallow that bobbed his throat. He turned his eyes to the sky in an illusion of rolling them in pleasure instead of the reality of fighting tears. “I love you so much.” He wished he could fight his tears as well as San fought in the ring. They’d never stand a chance.
“I love you too, Sannie, more than you know.” More than he would ever be able to express. He would no longer be able to lay in the nest of blankets in their banged up van, pressing feather-light kisses to each freckle and bruise painting San’s skin.
A harsh gasp flew from his lips as he felt a warm hand press against the bulge straining his no name black trousers, purchased from a second hand store down the street. He drew in a shuddering breath as San squeezed with just the right amount of pressure, playing his body like a well studied instrument.
“Youngie, can I?” He whispered and Wooyoung nodded, blinded by his arousal and the knowledge of what was to come - both now and later. They each fumbled with their zippers, knuckles bumping together and laughter swirling between as they both lifted their eyes, gazes impossibly fond.
The moment was shattered when they were finally pressed together, laughter morphing into shared pants breathed into each other’s mouths. He stroked over San’s tip just the way he liked, a glide of his thumb just over the slit, and he groaned as San squeezed on the upstroke. They had memorized each other like a map that led to the treasure of their mutual pleasure. The sob that tore from his lips was easily disguised as a sound of pleasure rather than the lament of a goodbye.
“Close, Sannie,” Wooyoung swallowed back his tears, grinding his teeth against the sobs as he pressed his forehead into the crook of San’s neck. “Just a little longer.” Please, let him live in this moment a little longer.
Sadly, all good things came to an end and soon enough they were both spilling over each other’s hands, sweat slicked skin pressed together as they each slumped forward, two bodies somehow supporting each other in their mutual brief exhaustion.
“Fuck.” San drew out the ‘f’ on an exhalation, laughing breathlessly before grabbing a handkerchief from his back pocket and carefully cleaning both their hands. He took extra time to wipe away a spatter on Wooyoung’s new watch - “A gift for the best manager and boyfriend I’ve ever had.”
“Yeah,” Wooyoung returned the laugh, a weak and brittle little thing that felt wrong. “C’mon, I bet the others are wondering where we’ve disappeared off to.”
“I’m pretty sure they know.” San smirked as he tucked the bandana away and set them both to rights. His eyes were brighter, more sober, but still shining with so much joy and love. Wooyoung would see them in every expensive jewel on his stupid cuff links.
“Alright, you’re probably right. Go, I’m going to get cleaned up and I’ll meet you there.” He urged even as his teeth threatened to bite his tongue, to hold the words back in his throat until he choked on his own blood.
San nodded his agreement and gave a final playful wink and a blown kiss before slipping through the heavy metal door.
The alley suddenly felt so cold as Wooyoung pressed his back flat to the grimy wall across from the bar, sliding to the floor uncaring of whatever filth was beneath him. He stared at the flickering neon sign for some time, listening to the ambient hum. His fingers curled around the little brick in his pocket, nearly crushing. He paused when he heard a soft ‘ping’ but instead of looking down at a broken phone he instead looked up to watch the last remnants of light fade away from neon coils.
“Yeah.. Me too.” He whispered, voice hoarse as his face lit up from below from the overly bright welcome screen of his cell phone. He ignored the barrage of notifications, opening the phone app and blindly pressing a number he thought he’d never call again. It took two rings to connect.
“I need you to pick me up.”
He didn’t remember when he stood up and began walking but soon enough Wooyoung stood at the corner of the block, watching as a shiny black car pulled up far too quickly to have come from the heart of Seoul.
“What on Earth are you wearing?” A voice spoke from the backseat and his heart instantly dropped into his stomach. He fucking hated his father’s assistant.
In lieu of an answer he climbed into the back, forehead pressed to the cold glass of the window the instant his door was closed.
“Your father will be happy to hear you’ve come to your senses.” He didn’t give a fuck how his father felt about it. “Honestly, Wooyoung, a boxer?” The assistant sucked his teeth in that way that had always set Wooyoung’s teeth on edge and it took every ounce of self restraint not to show him his own boxing skills.
The car rolled away slowly and Wooyoung kept his eyes on the alley where he knew the neon sign had once shone. He wondered if anyone would ever fix it. He wondered how it was possible for him to leave San’s life as seamlessly as he had entered it. He wondered if San would ever forgive him (or if he would ever forgive himself.)
Oh well. None of it mattered anymore.