"Hi, uh, so." Wooyoung desperately tries to shake off the blankness that washed over him as soon as the pretty receptionist looked up from his laptop and smiled at him. "Do you have a phone?"
A moment passes. Wooyoung wants to facepalm.
~~~
Growing...
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"San! San?"
San flinches and almost sends the cart with freshly laundered bedsheets barrelling against the wall. Just in time he manages to grab for the handle to stop it, stumbling minimally with the effort.
He'd been too tired, and too caught up in his thoughts to pay closer attention to anything that is not his work: he'd been dully staring at fabric in different shades of white for the past two hours now.
Two hours – it feels like that's also the amount of sleep he got this night. Maybe San is exaggerating, but, without exaggeration, he would have been late for his shift if it hadn't been for Mingi who came knocking at his door twenty minutes before they both had to start work.
San had gone to bed well before dawn – and alone, which would have seemed natural to him if it hadn't been for the bruising kiss he shared before with Wooyoung right in front of his door, and that ended with Wooyoung trailing his lips down over San's pulse. Wooyoung's skin was warm under the hoodie and San's fingertips as he held his waist, gripping a fraction tighter as Wooyoung kissed a particularly sensitive spot on his neck.
San was still drawing nonsensical shapes on Wooyoung's waist when Wooyoung mumbled a husky San-ah against the skin of his throat. San hummed, subtly shivering against the way Wooyoung's lips brushed over his skin. "D'you wanna-" Wooyoung had jerked his chin at San's door.
San had been tempted to agree and invite Wooyoung in his room to continue... whatever they felt like doing. But when they separated, Wooyoung's eyes were blown wide, his cheeks flushed, and he was avoiding San's gaze in a way that terribly reminded San of Yeosang. His heart sunk at the sight.
The decision to end their night hadn't been conscious deliberation but become an instinctive one after that. "I have a lot of work tomorrow," he'd excused himself, noticing how Wooyoung suddenly cast his eyes to the ground instead of the wall, "I should go to sleep soon. Can you come by tomorrow in the evening, though?" He didn't bother that he was outright asking now.
Wooyoung detached himself from San while San withdrew his hands from underneath Wooyoung's hoodie. The air in the corridor felt colder now, and his fingers were itching to run over the soft skin of Wooyoung's waist and back again.
"Okay," Wooyoung answered after a thoughtful second – however, San felt the most relieved when Wooyoung looked him in the eyes again before adding, "I will."
There were still leftovers of unresolved tension between them, San had mused as he'd lied in his bed in the dark and waited for his heartbeat to slow down to a less adrenaline-fuelled rhythm that would allow him to sleep. Perhaps it was tension from their interactions, from the way there always seemed to be something – was it disagreement or missing closure? – disturbing their conversations. Perhaps they could've soothed their tension if San had invited Wooyoung to his room and in his bed without stopping at making out. San can't say he never imagined it, even if was only for the half-conscious moments between sleep and waking or when they were kissing and Wooyoung pressed up closer against him.
