Chapter Text
Wooyoung didn’t normally find himself ploughing through the music buildings at his university, but he was going to collect Changbin before their weekly lunch with Yeonjun. He and Yeonjun were spiralling up the stairs towards the second floor.
“Slow down, oh my god,” Yeonjun called up to him. Wooyoung found himself almost a whole staircase ahead of his friend, bounding up the stairs like he was skipping on clouds.
“Why don’t you hurry up, old man!”
“We’re the same age! You’re one of the only people I hang out with that can’t use that insult!”
Wooyoung’s laugh echoed across the other side of the building, a loud, unrestrained thing that he never felt the need to censor. “If you didn’t act like such an old man, maybe no one would use it.”
“Shut up, you’re probably just on two gallons of caffeine or something.” Yeonjun grumbled; but it was too fun for Wooyoung to stop teasing his friend.
Eventually, the two of them reached the hallway where their shorter, bulkier friend was waiting for them. Much like Wooyoung, he launched into excuses and complaints about how they were too slow getting there. Yeonjun groaned when he saw the merciless grin on Wooyoung’s face, as he immediately threw him under the bus as the reason they took so long getting to him. Throughout the walk back out of the building, the friends bickered harmlessly the way they always do whenever they meet up with each other.
They congregated at Changbin’s favourite noodle bar, tucked away at their spot in the corner as they continued to share stories about what had happened to them over the week. “What do you mean you have to create three different designs for jeans by next week?” Wooyoung screeched at his friend.
Yeonjun grimaced, but Wooyoung knew his friend shared his incredulity. Just because he could never let Wooyoung speak badly about how his Design course was ran, doesn’t mean he didn’t allow himself to on a daily basis. Hence why he brought up the whole complaint to the other two.
“Why don’t you go the gym and work out your stress?” Yeonjun shot an equally malignant glare at Changbin for his suggestion. Wooyoung cackled again.
Every week, Wooyoung looked forward to his meet-ups with his old friends the most. A warmth blossomed in the pit of his stomach in the most relaxing way, coaxing a lightness of air and freedom around him. Wooyoung wasn’t always one to stick to a strict routine, but this was one of the events that he could never picture himself rearranging. It was too precious to him.
The time came when the three of them had to part again, their ordinary lives beckoning them. They stood in a make-shift circle to say their goodbyes, Wooyoung coaxing the two of them into a big group hug and hanging off their necks. (Admittedly having to bend down on one side for Changbin). Feigning cheerfulness until they were gone, Wooyoung didn’t waste another opportunity to tease and joke before Yeonjun and Changbin were disappearing down the street, in the opposite way that Wooyoung needed to be heading.
Setting off down the pavement, Wooyoung shoved his hands in his jacket pocket and used them to wrap the material around his body. The large buildings on either side of him seemed to cave over, diminishing him in their presence. Small and alone, he trekked back to campus. Strangers barged past him on his journey, and Wooyoung weaved between every possible warmth available.
Waiting outside the dance building, he was the first one there for his next class – to be fair, a very unusual occurrence. Wooyoung leant against the wall, a momentary relief for his muscles before he forced them to their ultimate capacity again. He stretched his legs out, figuring he may as well get some warming-up done early. The empty hallway was the only witness to his preparations, sending an acute chill down his spine. Despite the strain on his muscles, Wooyoung only seemed to get colder, even though he knew that his work was indeed loosening his muscles and getting them ready for his class.
Minutes passed and Wooyoung had resorted to running his hands up and down his forearms and thighs in a fruitless attempt to warm them up. Just as a puff of cold air was making its way out of his mouth, a shout of his name jolted his body into attention and surprised heat. A grin slapped itself onto Wooyoung’s face as he looked around and spotted his friend Yunho running down the hallway to wait for the class with him. The two launched into their catch-ups while the rest of the class filtered in, eventually piling to the dance studio to begin their lesson.
It was extensive and long – what a week to work on hip-hop – but eventually Wooyoung was free and walking across campus in amongst a cluster of dance students. He didn’t part from them until he was at the university gates, hastening on his feet to be back at his apartment as soon as possible – or to Yeosang’s apartment as soon as possible.
When he thought he’d have to begin his solitary meander back, a boy waiting by one of the stone pillars bracketing the gates caught his attention. The boy was lean, not too much taller than Wooyoung from what he could see, dark hair and intense eyes concentrating on his phone. Wooyoung blinked. A surging heat thrummed through his veins as soon as his brain registered that he was concentrating on the figure, imagining that his neck was reddening the longer he looked at him. Wooyoung licked his dry lips and followed that warmth until he was standing in front of the new boy.
Seeming to notice the shadow that has been cast over his phone, the new boy looked up, perplexed – which wasn’t aided in noticing Wooyoung. “Hey!” Wooyoung chirped, probably too loudly. “I’m Wooyoung! Are you lost?”
The new boy blinked at him, confusion increasing even more. “No? I’m just… waiting here, I guess?”
“For a class?”
“…Yeah.” He quickly looked from side to side, as if searching for a possible way out. This alarmed Wooyoung into further interaction.
“What time does it start? Are you going to be late? Or do you just have some time to kill? If that’s the case, then it might be better for you to wait in one of the cafes or something. Do you want me to take you to one? I know where all the best ones are and can help you find your room if you’re actually too scared to tell me if you’re lost. Are you a first year?”
The boy’s eyes had gotten progressively wider, blinking even quicker at the grinning boy before him. Lethargically, about two minutes behind whatever spiel Wooyoung had gone on, he shook his head. “No – no, I’m a second year.”
“Ah! Just like me, then! Have you ever been to the cafes?”
“Erm – once, maybe?”
“Did you want to try it a second time?”
Before waiting for the boy to respond, Wooyoung gripped the material on his jacket and dragged him back through the university gates, ignoring his small flinch. Speculating that it was purely surprise, Wooyoung continued his mission to extend the day with this new boy he’d become determined to befriend. When he enacted no more protests, Wooyoung thought it was safe to assume that the boy had decided to go along with his plan.
Peering back over his shoulder, Wooyoung sent a reassuring smile; finding comfort that the boy was letting himself be directed, walking fast enough on his own to keep up with him. “I can’t stay too long,” the boy blurted. “My class starts in twenty minutes.”
“That’s fine, I’m happy to be company until then!” He paused for a moment, studying his face. “Did you tell me your name?”
“… No – but, it’s San.”
The name felt right, urging the heat under his skin to shimmer and made Wooyoung feel like he was sporting a perpetual glow. And that warmth lingered even after San left for his lecture.
*
Seonghwa stretched his arms forward as he attempted to force himself out of bed. After three failed attempts he was finally on his feet. He made his way out of his bedroom to the kitchen; it wasn’t long before he realised he had run out of food. That was ok though, he wasn’t particularly used to breakfast.
Seonghwa walked away from his apartment building towards the bus stop. However, after deliberating he decided he couldn’t afford to waste the money. Besides it was only a 30-minute walk, and he had plenty of time to make it to his first lecture of the day.
Finally, Seonghwa was making his way down the winding path which led to the dilapidated art building. It was quite obviously the most run-down building on campus; nonetheless it was his favourite.
He took a seat by the window and spread out his art materials. He changed the playlist on his phone from his personalised collection of jazz standards to lofi hip-hop, preparing to settle into his usual creative rhythm. He had a whole hour to relax in this way before he had to attend his first lecture.
When the time came to go, Seonghwa reluctantly gathered his things and made his way to the lecture theatre. It was a pleasant day and the general mood seemed positive, allowing Seonghwa’s walk to be a calming one.
Suddenly Seonghwa was aware of someone bumping into him. After he had caught his breath, he turned around to see a very apologetic boy frantically gathering the contents of his bag that he had just dropped. Seonghwa immediately bent down to help, feeling empathy for the boy who was clearly having a rough day.
“I’m so sorry!” He exclaimed. The sound of his desperate voice saddened Seonghwa and he knew he needed comfort.
“Don’t apologise please! It’s because of me you dropped all your stuff.” Seonghwa looked carefully at the dark-haired boy wanting to make whatever was wrong with him right. “What’s your name?”
Looking up tentatively he replied, “my name’s San.” There was an awkward silence before he hurriedly added, “what’s your name?”
“My name’s Seonghwa, would you like me to help you carry your stuff to wherever you’re going? Your bag seems to be broken.” Seonghwa seemed genuinely sad as he made this realisation. San smiled, feeling the anxiety he had previously felt melt away.
“Thank you for being so kind to me Seonghwa! But I don’t want to bother you any more than I already have.” San was surprised at the genuine kindness he was being shown by someone he had just met.
“Please let me help you! It wouldn’t be any trouble at all, I want to help!” Seonghwa was overwhelmed by the need to help San and perhaps brighten his day just a little bit. After some reluctance San eventually agreed. Seonghwa found out that San was a second-year History student; sharing in return that he was a third-year art student.
Finally, they reached San’s destination and said their friendly goodbyes. San felt a lightness that he had not felt before meeting Seonghwa and found himself almost excited for his seminar, despite the broken bag. Seonghwa was half an hour late to his lecture and could sense the disappointment from his lecturer when he awkwardly shuffled to his seat.
Huffing, the professor said, “just make sure you catch up is all I ask.” Sighing Seonghwa took out his notebook and attempted to understand the remainder of the lecture. His head was consumed by restless thoughts concerning San. Was he really ok? He seemed happier when he left him; Seonghwa had sensed an overriding melancholy in him that seemed to linger in his heart when they parted.
From that day onwards Seonghwa didn’t see much of San; they passed each other on occasion and always made sure to exchange friendly greetings. Seonghwa would openly show his enthusiasm to be running into him, smiling gently and asking after him. Each time he walked away the feeling of melancholy he had initially observed stuck with him.
*
Wooyoung has been taken to this party by Changbin – Yeonjun being dragged along as well, of course – because he knew the guy that was hosting it: Bang Chan. As all house parties tended to be, it was loud. People crowded into the living room like crayons trying to fit back in their tin, standing practically shoulder-to-shoulder and shuffling against each other as they tried to dance to the blaring music. The speakers weren’t playing anything particularly complex, just some rudimentary dance beats that Wooyoung wouldn’t be surprised if Chan put together himself.
As soon as he entered with Yeonjun at his side, the two of them immediately spotted Changbin in the midst of everyone and clambered over anyone in their way to get to him. Wooyoung forcibly pulled them into another hug, already buzzed from the pre-drinks that he had done at Yeonjun’s place. Forever a dance student, his body instantly took to the music and started to sway, pulling the other two along with him. As always, Yeonjun was the easier one to coax into a makeshift duet. But eventually the three of them were dancing around each other, shouts escaping their mouths about something or other.
For several songs, this is how they remained – until Wooyoung could feel himself sobering up and decided that he must go out and search for another drink. “Changbin,” he started. “Take me to Chan’s kitchen. I want another drink.”
Changbin mimed hitting him. But after a grand display of calling him bossy, took him across the room to extract some more alcohol from the counter in the kitchen. At some point or another, they lost Yeonjun to some other friend he knew, so Wooyoung only needed to pull out two cups from the stack that Chan had prepared beforehand. Pouring far too much vodka in, Wooyoung was soon topped up. Core warm, Wooyoung followed Changbin as he dragged him over to a circle of his friends.
Faces and names blurred together, forgotten as soon as they were spoken – but they all seemed lovely. Wooyoung half-remembered pinching a freckled cheek at some point, probably yelling several terms of endearment. The night span on, and Wooyoung threw himself across various groups in the house, when he found himself knowing at least one person from each. Some deep desire to make himself known, he didn’t know.
The room was dark; multi-coloured neon LED lights were the only thing illuminating the whole living room. Obscured by all the bodies in front of them, they probably didn’t even reach as far as they could have. Despite the splotches of darkness, however, Wooyoung spotted the solitary figure hogging the corner of the room. He was swallowed by a large hoodie and the cup he held to his lips, even when Wooyoung could tell that he wasn’t actually drinking anything from it at that moment. Beady eyes surveyed the room, passing over the crowd of drunken university students critically.
Because Wooyoung had apparently challenged himself to greet everyone at the party, he bounded over to that guy and was determined to make him talk if it was the last thing he did. When he approached him, he found that the man was shorter than him and tried to fall into the wall even more when he registered that Wooyoung was now blocking him in. Warily, he judged Wooyoung out of the corner of his eye, but that didn’t deter the red-headed boy from trying to catch his attention fully. “Hey there!” He definitely said far too loud, even over the near-deafening music that everyone had to shout over anyway. “I’m Wooyoung! I’m going around greeting everyone.”
Wooyoung had less of a filter than usual. He didn’t even know why the first thing out of his mouth was announcing just what his goal of the evening was. By the way that the guy’s eyes awkwardly flickered from side to side like he was looking for an escape, he didn’t know either. “Good for you,” he replied.
“It is, isn’t it? Are you having fun? Do you know Chan, then? What’s your name?”
The guy looked even more overwhelmed now, but at least he seemed resigned to stick around and listen to whatever nonsense spilled from Wooyoung’s lips. He shook his head slightly before humouring Wooyoung’s whims. “I’m Hongjoong. Yes, I know Chan.”
Brain too fuzzy to realise that Hongjoong didn’t answer the question about whether he was enjoying the party, Wooyoung bounced about on the spot. He grinned back at the man in front of him. “I don’t know Chan. I got invited because I know his friend Changbin. Do you know him?” Hongjoong shook his head. “I know Changbin. You must know Chan, then!” Hongjoong didn’t seem to know what to say in response, unable to comprehend Wooyoung’s jumpy mind. “Are you a music student, too, then?”
“I am, yeah.”
With the way Wooyoung was swaying on the spot, he was shocked to discover that Hongjoong stood woodenly still. He must be sober, then. That was the only explanation. The cup was for show. Fair game. Wooyoung could respect the hustle. He laughed at his own thoughts, not even sure why.
“Then you must know Chan!”
A disbelieving laugh practically burst from Hongjoong’s mouth more than anything, like a cough. Wooyoung’s body heated, a happy little glow. This man was kind – and speaking of kind, Wooyoung knew just the place he wanted to see him again. “You should come to our fundraiser!”
“What?” Hongjoong furrowed his eyebrows.
“It’s this fundraiser for dance bursaries. We’re putting on a performance and everything. I forgot I need to be inviting more people. Details for it are on the dance student website. Promise you’ll come? Promise!”
Widened eyes and raised hands in a placating manner, Hongjoong nodded. “Yeah, okay, dude, I’ll come along.”
“Yay!” The end of his celebration filtered into some kind of screech, which had the man next to him covering his ears. But that was background details to Wooyoung now; he was turning back to the cluster in the room, suddenly aware of all the possible people he could rope into coming in this crowd alone. Practically forgetting about the shorter man he’d just been conversing with, Wooyoung dived back onto the dance floor to start spreading the word about his fundraiser.
Wooyoung hurried from one end of the house to another across the remainder of the night, babbling about the event, sure he’d convince everyone there to join. Who didn’t remember commitments they made drunk, really? With the way his head swam, Wooyoung didn’t even know how many people he even got round to inviting. But surely this was worth patting himself on the back.
The night eventually wound down and Wooyoung found himself sprawled over a sofa. Yep. There was no way he was moving anytime soon.
*
Sitting on the bench that Mingi had classified as theirs since the first time they met, he spent his time gazing at Yunho’s pretty face.
He had been blessed by Yunho’s company for around a year now and couldn’t quite understand why Yunho would be wasting his time on someone like him. It was their lunch break between lectures, and they had collected some sushi from their campus shop and taken it to their spot. For all the socialising he would usually avoid, Mingi relished his time with Yunho.
Yunho was animatedly describing his dance class from the other day. Mingi listened attentively, but truth be told, not that attentively, as he was paying attention to the smallest quirks of Yunho’s expressions. Yunho was lively, always smiling and eyes shining whenever Mingi saw him. With his broad shoulders and huggable torso, Mingi often found himself distracted by thinking about what it would be like to be enveloped in his arms.
The story of their meeting was not a conventional one. Mingi was in his usual position, sitting on the exact same bench they were now on, with a book. Books were Mingi’s favourite portal to escape the tiring monotony of reality. It was quite late in the afternoon, and he could hear people rushing out of the surrounding buildings after their lectures.
Mingi was content to ignore them, used to drowning out their clamour as he read. He was taken by surprise, however, when a tall figure loomed over him, eyes undoubtedly staring right at him. Mingi froze, checking whether he still felt the faint thrum under his skin. He did.
“Can I sit here?” The figure asked him anyway.
Despite the conventional conversational decorum, Mingi gaped open-mouthed at the newcomer for a second. “You can see me?”
The stranger let out a confused chuckle and frowned at him.
“Of course I can?”
Flustered, on panic-mode, Mingi quickly accepted his inquiry to sit down. Much more tentatively than he had been before, Yunho slowly lowered himself onto the bench next to Mingi. His brows were furrowed, eyes staring at Mingi like he was trying to complete a puzzle. Mingi was feeling much the same. He was certain that he could never be seen when like this. Who was this boy? Why could he see him?
“Mingi!” Yunho called, interrupting his thought spiral about the past. “Are you even listening to me? I asked you if you wanted to come to my charity fundraiser on Saturday?”
Mingi shook his head to refocus himself, “I’m so sorry I zoned out – yeah, sorry, yeah - of course I will come!”
“Great! I can’t wait for you to finally see me dance!”
Mingi’s face heated considerably. He still hadn’t seen Yunho dance, and he had yet to discover just what that would do to his heart.
*
Yeosang’s apartment was just as warm as it usually was when Wooyoung burst through the door. Cosy, yellow light from the lamps placed on small tables either side of the sofa filtered into the room. Blankets were draped over the back of the sofa, mugs of some hot liquid were steaming on the wooden coffee table and the maroon curtains were drawn closed. On top of the lamps, light from the television illuminated the room, flashing every so often from whatever action movie was playing. Must have been Yeosang’s pick today, then.
Wooyoung was unreserved as he made as loud an entrance as he could, throwing his hands up in the air as the front door slammed closed behind him. “Oh my god, you guys!”
A guttural groan tore itself from his throat as Wooyoung fell to his knees between the sofa and the coffee table and shortly afterwards faceplanted the floor, lying in the little alcove between the two pieces of furniture. He whimpered into the freshly vacuumed carpet, wiggling his arms and legs. Seconds passed in silence. When Wooyoung realised he wouldn’t be receiving significant enough attention for his theatrics, he pushed himself up so he was lying on his elbows and forearms and craned his neck to the two forms cradled together on the sofa.
Yeosang and Jongho had their legs up alongside them on the sofa, hidden under the blanket they were sharing, strewn over their laps, looking ever-so-snug. Yeosang’s mouth was raised on one side in a judgemental smirk as he peered down at Wooyoung. Jongho, however, only stared at Wooyoung with the stoniest glare that Wooyoung was beginning to wonder might have been the only expression his face could make.
“You guys!” Wooyoung ignored any sort of warning that Jongho was attempting to convey with his face and pouted up at them. “You’ll never guess who I just saw again?”
“No, we won’t. So please leave.” Clipped tone, Jongho’s lips fell into a straight line.
“Sang~” Wooyoung blinked up at his old friend, trying to morph his face into the most desperate, pathetic and innocent visage he could muster.
Yeosang sighed. “You know he won’t leave until we hear him out, right?” He spoke to the man sitting beside him.
“He won’t leave for the rest of the night, probably.” Jongho grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and sinking even lower in his seat. Just like a petulant child, in Wooyoung’s humble opinion.
Yeosang patted the top of Jongho’s head, fingers lingering for a moment too long to comb through his brown locks. Turning back to Wooyoung all too sharply, Yeosang looked at him levelly, and Wooyoung knew it was his cue. Yeosang might not be generous enough to give another one. “I ran into him again. Ah!” He threw himself flat against the floor, but only for a second, and then he was up in the same position again. “I was sitting in the same café that we first went to together when I saw him. He looked just as handsome as the last time, I swear. And well, I obviously couldn’t stop staring at him. I’m only mortal, you know? But he saw me! Sang, he smiled at me and came over to say hello! He was on his way to a lecture, but he took time out of his journey just to greet me because he remembered me. How sweet is that?”
Wooyoung squealed and covered his face with the palms of his hands, dropping down to lie on his upper arms.
“What?” Jongho’s monotone, bored voice made Wooyoung rise up again. Out of indignation more than anything.
“Yeah,” Yeosang’s slightly softer voice followed. “I think you need to go back a few steps. Who the hell is this?”
Wooyoung was affronted. “You mean – I never mentioned the absolute dream of a man I met earlier this week?”
“I don’t know. Maybe? Wooyoung, you say a lot of things.”
“Not things like this! He makes me feel things, like all the best sort of fluttery things. I don’t even have his number or socials or anything like that yet, but it must be fate. I’ve never felt anything like this. Not really, not even-” He cut himself off when he felt the mood slip. He started up again eagerly, “I can’t wait to see his face again.”
Yeosang humoured him. “That’s nice and all, but it still doesn’t answer my question about who this is.”
“His name’s San. And I think he’s my soulmate.”
Jongho pretended to gag, and Yeosang lightly slapped his arm.
“Stop making fun of true love,” Wooyoung wailed.
“I will do no such thing when it isn’t important enough for you to be interrupting date night. Again.”
“It is important enough to interrupt date night.”
“In what world-”
“Alright.” Yeosang’s barely raised voice was enough to quieten the other two’s, which were rapidly getting louder. “So you have a crush, Wooyoung.”
Wooyoung nodded his head so quickly his neck started to ache. But San was worth every sort of muscle pain. Trying to detangle his feelings from the first moment he saw San until now had been shockingly easy, like brushing his hair after slathering it in conditioner. He accepted the fact that he liked San as simply as he accepted breathing. By some point, it felt part of life. An unchangeable fact of the universe.
Wooyoung wasn’t going to give himself false hope or read into the fact that San remembered him. He wasn’t completely delusional. He knew he was pretty hard to forget: with his bright red hair and the fact that he’d first met San by approaching him out of nowhere and dragging him to a café. Wooyoung wouldn’t forget anyone like that himself.
And Wooyoung couldn’t think of anyone else he’d rather relate all of this information to than his old, trustworthy friend. Yeosang perhaps wasn’t the most talkative or reactionary whenever he let anything off his chest, but Wooyoung could tell he was paying close attention with a calm consideration. He had faith that Yeosang would pipe up if anything needed to be said or alarmed him. Just the kind of person Wooyoung needed to hear him out. And by extension, the listening ears of Jongho, too.
Mostly to annoy Jongho, Wooyoung crawled up onto the sofa next to Yeosang. He tried to wedge himself beneath the blanket too, against the backdrop of Jongho’s increasing protests. Honestly, Wooyoung would have thought the younger boy would have appreciated being made into some sort of oracle. Of course Wooyoung was going to be staying for the rest of the night.
*
The next time Wooyoung sees San, it is entirely by chance as he’s walking back from some extra dance practise. But something about the other boy and the way he makes Wooyoung’s insides burn without prompting meant that it was impossible not to know when he was nearby. San was shuffling unassumingly down the hallway, sticking close to the wall and staring down at his shoes. This gave Wooyoung the perfect excuse to approach him, because there was no way San would see him without looking up.
“San!” Wooyoung’s shrill voice might have been the only thing able to raise San’s head from the ground. Slightly startled eyes met his, but Wooyoung was overjoyed at finally being able to gaze into them again. He stood in front of him, blocking the path, but the slight twinkle in San’s iris and soft smile on his face let Wooyoung believe he didn’t mind. He didn’t care if he was deluding himself.
“Hi Wooyoung. How are you?”
“I’m great! Very tired, muscles aching. But how are you? Are you on your way to a class, or on your way back?”
“On my way back this time. Can’t stop at the café today, unfortunately.”
Wooyoung’s lips fell into a pout, nose scrunching. “San-” Wooyoung whined.
San grinned. “Sorry, Wooyoung, but I need to get to work.”
Wooyoung hummed and pretended to think for a moment, running a hand over his chin and sifting his fingers through a fake beard. “I suppose you are forgiven, then. Go be a servant of capitalism, if you must.”
“Yes, my need to eat instant noodles is indicative of being a servant of capitalism.”
“I’m glad you’re starting to see sense.” San hid his giggles behind his hand, and an idea came into Wooyoung’s head. “If you want to make up for this atrocity, and do something good, you can maybe come to my dance fundraiser on Saturday.”
“Fundraiser? Where is it?”
“In the dance building. I’ll be performing.” Wooyoung winked, hoping that was a winning incentive for San’s attendance.
Wooyoung’s annoyance at San not addressing that particular fact was short-lived, as San quickly replied. “If it’s a fundraiser, I’ll definitely be there.”
Wooyoung shimmied on the spot, looking pointedly at San afterwards. “A little preview there. But I’m so glad you’re coming!”
Jumping up and down, arms extending in celebration, Wooyoung made note of San’s shy little grin. Like he could sense Wooyoung studying his face, he turned away, just in time to see the slender figure of a taller boy pass the two of them. San’s expression lit in recognition, and Wooyoung saw the two nod their heads in greeting.
Feet now back on the floor, Wooyoung watched the figure’s back retreat down the hallway. He turned back to San. “Who’s that? Do you guys know each other?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah, that’s Seonghwa. He’s cool.”
“Oh! I should probably invite him to the fundraiser, too. We need all the people we can get. Wait right here, I’ll be back in just a second.”
Without waiting for a response, Wooyoung whipped past San and sprinted after the disappearing boy. Weightless on his legs, Wooyoung’s athletic body caught up with him in no time. Launching himself the last foot or so to land at his side, Wooyoung called out, “Hey!”
Seonghwa startled, sharply turning around to find the source of such an abrupt greeting. Wooyoung ignored his skittishness, not waiting for Seonghwa to speak in return. “I’m Wooyoung. I saw that you knew San, and decided that I had to invite you to my dance fundraiser! Are you free this Saturday? It’s in the dance studios and there will be performances and everything.”
Seonghwa took a moment to collect his thoughts before carefully responding, “Hi Wooyoung, that sounds great thank you for inviting me. I will certainly try my best to make it.”
“Really? Thank you so much, you’re so nice!” Wooyoung didn’t know whether it was his volume or the compliment, but Seonghwa seemed bashful at his observation, which only made Wooyoung doubly glad that he sped off to invite him along. “I’ll see you there on Saturday, then! Bye Seonghwa!”
Not wanting to be away from San anymore, Wooyoung span on his heels and raced back down the hallway, leaving a confused Seonghwa staring after him.