Work Text:
1.
Mingi is the first to notice, even if San is the one with the remote control in his hand.
“Woo?” Mingi reads out, curious gaze darting back and forth from San and the TV. “Who’s Woo?”
San tilts his head when he registers the question, stopping his own thumb midway to selecting Mingi’s Netflix profile to read out the name under the fourth square, now sitting next to their usual three.
“Oh,” San voices, tilting his head, “That wasn’t you? I don’t know.”
“You didn’t give the account details to anyone?”
San shrugs. “No.”
There’s two seconds where they stare blankly at the TV screen before them, a bowl of popcorn balanced in a precarious position between Mingi’s knees. On the opening screen of their San’s Netflix account, there’s the usual San, mingi, and yunho <3, but San makes two clicks on the remote to hover on the new fourth profile—simply labelled woo and still sporting the default, lopsided smiley-face icon—instead, blinking his eyes at the screen like it’ll make some kind of answer materialize in front of them. It doesn’t.
“You think someone hacked into the account?” San asks Mingi with a pout, eyes wide.
“Knowing you, yes,” Mingi laughs, moving to set the popcorn bowl somewhere off to the side. “What, is your password, like, 1-2-3-4?”
“Your Netflix password can’t be 1234, it has to have at least six characters.”
Mingi raises an eyebrow. “So it’s 1-2-3-4, 5-6.”
“No, I’m not dumb.” San rolls his eyes dramatically, voice lilting in a pout. “It’s your birthday—”
“Why would you tell me that?” Mingi interrupts in exasperation, resisting the urge to snicker at San’s usual, too-trusting nature. “This is the reason why there’s a Woo hacking your Netflix. Do you just shout your passwords from the rooftops?”
“It’s your birthday!” San whines.
“Yeah, but it’s your password!”
“Are you not even flattered that my Netflix password is your birthday? Even for Twit—”
“Oh my god, oh my god, stop. Stop.” Mingi facepalms, cutting San off before he can reveal even more. “You’re going to get swindled one day, you know.”
“Am not!”
“Can you just hurry up and delete it, San-ah?” Mingi concedes, laughing fondly as he curls his legs up onto the couch. “I want to watch Ghost Doctor.”
At that, San snaps his head toward his roommate, fixing him with a questioning gaze and furrowed brow. He clicks select on the remote and is delighted to find that this Woo character hadn’t set a pin. “Who said I was deleting it?”
Mingi looks dumbfounded, lips parted around a piece of popcorn that was supposed to go in his mouth before he flings it at San’s face instead, bouncing off his cheek and landing on a couch cushion.
“Yah,” Mingi says, mildly scolding, fixating on the screen where San’s scrolling through their Netflix-hacker’s still-uncurated homepage. “Are you telling me you’re just going to let this random stranger leech off of your Netflix account forever?”
“I let you share the password with Yunho! Shouldn’t I have the right to share it with whoever I want, too?” San retorts, exiting the new profile and finally switching to Mingi’s.
“Yunho is my boyfriend. This Woo is just…” Mingi pauses, holding his index finger out next to his face and drawing circles up in the air, head bobbing along with the movement. “You know, woooo.”
San snorts at the action and singsong tone—a toned-down version of how he imagines Mingi might act at a rave, or some shit—as he searches for the drama that Mingi’s been wanting to finally continue since finishing his chemistry midterm. Bickering aside, San really has also been wanting to watch the next episode of it for a while now, perking up when he finally catches sight of it scrolling through Continue watching—but not without one last word.
“Just let them use the Netflix account, Mingi-yah, I don’t really mind.” San smiles as he finally presses play on the episode, eager not to leave more room for argument. “Don’t be some kind of narc. They just want to watch shows, too.”
“You’re seriously tripping, you know that, right?” Mingi whines in disbelief, still pushing the bowl of popcorn towards San anyway. “The fact that they were able to create a profile in the first place means they also know your pin, right?”
San pouts petulantly, choosing to focus on the screen instead as the episode starts, bringing two pieces of popcorn to his mouth. “It’s not 1234, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“Great,” Mingi laughs, turning his attention to the screen now, too, before adding, “I hope it’s not 0-0-0-0.”
San huffs at being teased, retorting immediately with, “No, it’s not! It’s Yunho’s birthday.”
Mingi just looks at him with this tired expression, some kind of distressed disbelief, looking at San like he’s some pile of bouncing jello on the floor, or something. “Are you fucking ser—”
2.
San is alone in the dorm room again, plopped onto the couch after a battle of conscience with his mind: wait for Mingi to be done with another one of his very important midterm projects before watching the next episode of their drama, and go absolutely out of his mind with anticipation, or watch the next episode without telling Mingi, and feel very, very guilty for the next couple of days.
San looks around the entire space as Netflix loads up on the TV, about as skittish as he imagines someone would be if they were committing an actual crime. In all fairness to him, San does think that upsetting Mingi is a crime of the highest order—but, hey, it isn’t San’s fault that Mingi had left his school shit up to the last minute. If he hadn’t, then San wouldn’t currently be suffering the Netflix-partner equivalent of blue balls, having to hang on a cliffhanger for nearly two weeks without any mercy or exception from Mingi.
But, in a split-second of blind courage, San’s brain decided to say fuck Mingi, and he’d crawled his way out of the bedroom and onto the couch, TV remote in hand. He deserves to reward himself for finishing his own damn coursework on time, doesn’t he? And, either way, it’s not like Mingi has to find out; it’s San’s Netflix account, after all, and he can use his own profile to watch the episode, and then he can just rewatch it again with Mingi later and do his best to pretend like it’s the first time. God, this shouldn’t be making San this nervous—
But then, as if a sign from the universe, Netflix finally loads and San notices something that takes his attention away from his moral predicament, a new change in the Who’s watching? screen that he eyes with fascination.
The mysterious, fourth profile—still just labeled woo as it has been for the past couple of weeks—is now sporting a picture of an orange fox against a green background as its icon, standing out against San’s Sky Castle doctor, whoever Mingi’s anime character is, and Yunho’s icon of Bojack Horseman that he keeps ‘for the lols,’ even though he’s never actually watched the show.
Completely forgetting what he was even here to do for a split-second, San decides to click on Woo’s profile, peeking at the information to see if there’s anything else that’s been added since the fox.
Profile Name: woo
Pronouns: he/him
Maturity Rating: No restrictions
Display Language: Korean
Audio & Subtitles: Korean
Autoplay Next Episode: ON
Autoplay Previews: ON
Huh.
Okay, so Woo’s a dude. That’s new. Something to add to all the conjecture that San and Mingi (and Yunho) have already had about their Netflix hacker—Yunho’s words, not San’s—considering that he must either be smart enough to actually hack into a stranger’s Netflix account, or not actually be that much of a stranger to them since he knew that San’s passwords were Mingi and Yunho’s birthdays. That still doesn’t narrow it down very much, though. The only person that seems like he’d fit that description is Hongjoong, and San doubts that he has enough time or energy on his hands to prank San by hijacking his Netflix account.
Anyway. By the time San remembers what he came to the living room to do, his moment of blind courage had long passed and he doesn’t feel so bold about Netflix cheating on Mingi anymore, which is just. Great. San is really bored, and he just wants to know what happens in Ghost Doctor, and he sinks his face into a throw pillow and groans. Why is time moving so slowly this godforsaken afternoon?
He picks up his phone and opts to text Mingi instead, see if he’ll let him off the hook just this once. It’s worth a try. The worst he’ll do is say no.
SANdcastle
> mingi-yah im so boooooooored im gonna watch ghost doctor without u
San taps his fingers on his thigh anxiously, waiting for his phone to vibrate with a response.
princess mingi
> choi san
> don’t u dare
SANdcastle
> pleaseeee
> just one episode
> and i’ll even watch it again with u!!
princess mingi
> no u promised >:(
> ur so dramatic
SANdcastle
> EXCUSE ME you’re the one being dramatic!!
> im already on netflix i just felt bad so i told u :((
princess mingi
> BETRAYAL
> fuck you
> if u watch it without me
> ur a meanie
SANdcastle
> LMAO r u like 5 can u at least come up with better insults
princess mingi
> .
> if u watch it without me
> ur face looks like the feeling of getting a gutter ball when bowling
> ur voice sounds like 30 silver coins clinking together in a bag
> clink clink ur a fucking TRAITOR
SANdcastle
> OKAY omfg
> jesus christ i wont watch it without u
princess mingi
> I KNEW IT
> UR CALLING ME JESUS CHRIST
> BETRAYAL IS ON THE HORIZON
SANdcastle
> ur so insufferable lmao
princess mingi
> fuck u
SANdcastle
> I GOT IT i’ll watch smth else
princess mingi
> ***fuck u ;)
San rolls his eyes as puts down his phone, utterly used to how their bickering exchanges always go, but still plenty amused. Damn his guilty conscience, San thinks as he turns his attention back to the TV, Woo’s profile page still open, and… well.
This guy’s leeching off of San’s generosity and Netflix account, so he won’t mind if San takes a little look, right?
(He doesn’t ever have to find out, either, and San can feel a little less guilty about keeping a secret from someone he doesn’t actually know.)
When San opens up Woo’s homepage, it’s clear that he’d been making good use of the account in the weeks since he’d infiltrated it. There’s a few shows and movies already saved in his List, and a little less that he seems to be currently watching, though it’s still an impressive amount for two weeks. San scrolls through those first, hoping to god that Woo has good enough taste for San to find something good enough to watch whenever Mingi isn’t around.
The things that Woo watches are good, actually. San’s already watched a lot of them, but there are a few that he takes note of in his mind that may be good for later. Right now, though, he just wants something lighthearted and fun for while he has to be all alone in the dorm without Mingi, and Woo seems to have a penchant for 2-hour or longer films that San doesn’t have the attention span for.
The diamond in the rough, however, comes in the form of a slice of life drama called Strongest Deliveryman that Woo seems to have watched until episode 4, and despite not being quite that recent, the preview is enough to have San intrigued. It seems to be on his wavelength, so San just shrugs and decides to give it a try, exiting Woo’s profile to go and watch on his own.
San stares at the cute fox on Woo’s icon for a second too long, but he shakes his head out of it before he can think about it too much. He shouldn’t be feeling like he’s intruding, for god’s sake, this is his damn Netflix account. If he wants to exploit Woo’s recommendations, then he very damn well can.
3.
San’s Netflix hacker has impeccable taste, if he has to say so himself.
At the very least, San has spent most of his Mingi-less free time enjoying the drama that he’d found on said hacker’s profile, and it’s prevented anymore Mingi-insults from being thrown San’s way, which is great because San doesn’t actually like being compared to the feeling of waking up to construction noise at 7 in the morning.
Mingi is home today, but he’s holed up in the bedroom, hunched over his study desk with San banished to the living room couch. It’s not an ideal arrangement—but it’s what they’ve accustomed themselves to since sharing this prison cell of a dorm room space. San means to watch Strongest Deliveryman on the TV after over half an hour of mind-numbingly boring exile to the living room, having exhausted all the attention span he actually has for TikTok—but their divider is see-through and San knows Mingi’s gonna see it and ask if he can watch, too, and then San is going to have to wait a million years for Mingi to finish all his never-ending coursework before he’s allowed to entertain himself and he’s just. Not in the mood to do that.
San decides to take another look at the movies that Woo’s watching, see if there’s anything that piques his interest. Just because their Netflix hacker has good taste and all. And San likes to think of it as an advantage that he’s easily persuaded, even though Hongjoong always tells him that with a grimace and a pinch of his brow.
What San doesn’t expect to see when he fires up Netflix on the TV is a new name on the profile, still under the adorable orange fox icon, staring at San rather ominously from across the room.
hi san :)
“This is some horror movie shit,” San mutters to himself, just staring at the message for a good twenty seconds.
San’s not sure what this guy is playing at. To be fair, San’s name is on his profile, and it’s the first before Mingi’s or Yunho’s, so maybe that makes enough sense. Why would he try to send a message to him, though? Do hackers usually try to get close to their victims? Or, no—San doesn’t necessarily feel like a victim—but, you know. A hackee? Is that even a word?
San shakes his head to snap himself out of the train of thought, blinking a few times to see if the hi san :) under the fourth profile would disappear. It doesn’t. San doesn’t know if that’s worse than if he was just hallucinating.
He tries not to think too much of it as he selects the fox’s profile, but he fails pretty much immediately. Did the guy somehow know that San was lurking around in his recommendations? His watch history? No, he had a smiley face on his message, so he must come in peace, right? Shut the fuck up, San, that’s stupid, it’s not like he can see you. Or can he? Is he about to get swindled like Mingi said? How would someone even swindle him through Netflix—
San puts the remote down on the couch before he jolts to sit himself up straight, steadying himself with a deep breath. It’s not like he’s in actual danger, and he should just keep his eyes on the prize. If Woo exploits San’s Netflix account, then San can exploit him as a secondary algorithm, and besides—he has the option to completely ignore the message, and take it a step further if Woo gets hostile by kicking him off the account completely.
There are a lot more films on Woo’s profile at this point, San observes as he looks through it again. He hasn’t finished Strongest Deliveryman, actually seems to be an episode behind San, but there seems to be an endless string of movies from his List that Netflix is recommending him to watch. It’s all scattered genres and age ratings but something about it does feel kind of curated, oddly enough. San doesn’t even know this guy, but he somehow gets the distinct feeling that Woo’s commandeered Netflix profile isn’t just him throwing spaghetti at the wall and seeing what sticks, despite the variety in his choice of films.
Either way, San has decided that Woo has good taste. Whether that’s actually true or San is just lazy—it doesn’t count toward the end result, so he’ll take what he can get. He’s not really in the mood to think right now anyway.
The first theme that seems to stick out—after about three minutes of scrolling and watching the first few seconds of previews—is that Woo seems to like a lot of Ghibli movies, which seems like an agreeable enough choice for San, who’s only seen about two or three and keeps meaning to see more, but never actually gets around to doing it. The films on the list are some of the less popular ones, too, things that San’s only ever heard of in passing or seen aesthetic stills of on Twitter. So he supposes he can pay his dues to that old Totoro stuffed toy that his sister got him for his seventh birthday, and he scrolls back up to see Woo’s Continue watching. San’s pretty sure he saw a Ghibli film there which was more than halfway watched, and when he comes across it again, he remembers the name in his head before moving to his own profile and leaving this one alone.
That cryptic, dubious hi san :) still stares at him forebodingly when he’s back to the profile page, and San just huffs as he bounces his leg up and down, leaning back into the couch with a pout.
Oh, this is stupid. This is so, so stupid.
San changes his profile name to ‘hi woo’, before instantly clocking it and logging in, pulling up The Secret World of Arrietty before it can register in his mind exactly what he’d just done.
4.
San has changed his Netflix profile name a ridiculous amount of times in the last week and a half, and Yunho thinks it’s hilarious.
“I can’t believe we’re watching Pulp Fiction because of your hacker friend,” Yunho muses, pulling Mingi closer into his side on the couch. Gross.
Mingi groans in agreement. “I can’t believe you told him you were watching Pulp Fiction because of him, through your primary mode of communication, which is Netflix profile names.”
“Is that bad?” San shrugs, searching for the movie. “I told you, he has good taste. That’s it.”
“He’s someone who hacked your account!” Mingi retorts. “Also, uh-uh, you’re out here changing your profile name to shit like ‘gonna try out pulp fiction this time!!!’, exclamation point times three, as if you’re texting some middle school crush. This is a whole different kind of catfishing.”
“Sannie’s a big boy. He can talk to strangers if he wants,” Yunho teases.
“Excuse me, it’s not catfishing. He uses my Netflix account and pays me in good shows to watch. The Ghibli films I’ve seen because of him have been really good!”
“Pulp Fiction is not a Ghibli film, San, trust me,” Yunho rolls his eyes.
“Well, I asked him if he could recommend something non-animated, and this is what he gave me,” San declares firmly, “so we’re watching it.”
Mingi groans. “This is really not how I imagined you’d respond to me teasing you for being single.”
“Deal with it, Mingi-yah,” San singsongs with a satisfied smirk on his face, pressing play when he gets no further response. “You’re the one skipping class for babe time, I get to choose what we watch.”
The movie starts, and San leans back on the couch, smug.
He gets where his friends are coming from with all the concern, but frankly, San couldn’t care less. Sure, it’s a bit strange that he’s had conversations with his Netflix hacker in the silly way that he has, both San and Woo having changed their profile names countless times after the first exchange of hi. Still, there’s something so incredibly exciting about opening Netflix and finding a different name under the fox picture once again, Woo not hesitating to give San enthusiastic recommendations for things to watch after San had changed his own profile name to ‘ur taste in’, Mingi’s to ‘ghibli films’, and Yunho’s to ‘is good.’
San just keeps it that way, short phrase responses that he spreads out on the real estate of his own and his friends’ profiles—much to Yunho’s and (mostly) Mingi’s dismay—so they don’t get cut off into ellipses, while Woo writes longer sentences on his own profile that San has to actually open up before he can read. Woo keeps to his own territory, and San sees it as respectful in a way—never mind the fact that the precedent of how he’d even gotten into the account was the furthest from respectful, at least according to San’s friends.
But San, San just lets him stay, because his Netflix hacker really is just watching shows, has never caused any trouble for him nor shown any signs of malintent. He simply recommends San Ghibli films and good lighthearted dramas and San just dodges and ignores the times that the end of Woo’s profile name is something like ‘p.s. ur cute.’ Right now, he watches Pulp Fiction with his friends and focuses on following the subtitles below the screen, trying to wrap his head around what’s actually happening in the first scene, and it’s weirdly… nice. He’s already thinking about how he’s gonna tell Woo he liked his recommendation, and then promptly ask for more.
Begrudgingly, it seems Mingi might have been right. San kind of does feel like he’s in middle school, twirling his hair and batting his eyelashes and trying to like the same things as someone else to impress them. Not that San wants to impress Woo. Not that San actually believes he’s forming a real connection with someone without a real name or a face, just three letters and a fox icon and good movies.
Fuck no.
San tries to refocus on the movie, which Woo told him was a classic: weird, Americana, credits before instead of after, you either love it or you hate it. And San’s not really sure how to feel about it right now; Yunho’s the only one who’s seen it before, and he gave San nothing more than a mischievous shrug when San declared he wanted to watch it earlier. It’s… fine so far, and, okay—maybe San is trying a little harder than he normally would because he wants to like it—but he doesn’t admit that out loud. He just trains his eyes on what’s happening, trying to not be so surprised by the vulgar language and comprehend these two dudes discussing foot massages, so that he’ll maybe have something actually intelligent to say about the film when he reports back.
But the thought is snuffed out quickly—as quickly as it takes for someone to shoot someone else dead in the film—when Mingi lets out a surprised yelp and makes his displeasure very, very known.
“Nope! Nope, not what I had in mind, I’d rather watch The Shining!” Mingi exaggerates. San knows there is no way he’d rather watch The Shining, but he pauses the movie anyway. Mingi gives him a pointed stare. “Did your hacker friend give you options, at least? Can’t we watch something that doesn’t require me to use my brain?”
“That would be perfect for you, wouldn’t it?” San laughs.
“Yah!”
San just tosses Mingi the remote before he can end up chasing and tackling him to the ground for it, Yunho being of absolutely no help as he cackles from his place on the couch. They let Mingi choose what to watch instead, and San tries to tell himself he’ll continue Pulp Fiction in his own time—even though he can already also predict that there’s no way that’s going to happen. So much for good taste.
Oh, well. San guesses he’ll stick to the Ghibli films for now, then. At the very least, he and Woo have something new to talk about next time.
5.
sorry abt pulp fiction hope ur roommate is ok lol. i probably shouldnt have recommended that to u after giving u a bunch of just ghibli haha. maybe u can try ‘before sunrise’ instead? it’s tame i promise (p.s. it’s one of my favs i’ll be hurt if u don’t like it)
…That’s the new profile name that San sees when he clicks on the fox icon, a few days after Mingi’s Pulp Fiction fiasco. San’s own profile name is still the same thing that he’d changed it to after he, Mingi and Yunho ended up watching Ratatouille for the millionth time: ‘my roommate was too scared for pulp fiction sorry :/ do u know any movies that are good but like u can also watch if ur a wuss?’
And right now, San is laying sideways on the couch, draped out over the entire length of it with the left side of his cheek squished into a throw pillow. He’s alone again, because Mingi’s out with Yunho, and it’s just a normal Thursday night. San really shouldn’t be feeling dejected that he’s spending it at home, for Christ’s sake, but that thought alone doesn’t stop him from huffing and puffing, all for just the empty room to hear. San’s not really the type of person who actively seeks out some romance or action or anything like that, but it does get a little tough not to get a little pouty sometimes when Yunho comes to their dorm room, dressed all nice and with an eye-crinkling smile, to pick Mingi up for some date. In those moments and those moments alone (he swears), San all of a sudden gets the feeling that maybe it would be nice to have someone look at him like that, have someone to get dressed all nice for, someone who makes him nervous but can make it all go away with one smile. And moments like that create nights like tonight—San with a perpetual pout on his face, laying boneless on the couch, feeling stupidly endeared by a message from some stranger who’s made a home in his Netflix account—and then pulling up the romance film recommended by said stranger, prepared to lament the fact that he is so, damn single in his own little bubble of loneliness, right here, right now.
San changes his own profile name to ‘watching it now’, as if hacker guy would see it right away. He doesn’t think about it too much anymore before he actually opens his profile, though, finding the film quickly enough and pressing play. San tucks both hands under his chin as it starts, remote settled on the space in front of him on the couch.
And oh, yes, this is definitely a romance film. It’s all European scenery and architecture and the main couple meets on a train, for god’s sake, love at first sight and so on, so forth. It’s sickening, because it’s romantic, this woman is beautiful and this guy is entranced by her, and San kind of hates that he’s smiling the more they talk. And they talk a lot. It takes San a few moments to realize that they are actually just talking, have been talking the entire time thus far, so naturally, all seemingly in one take. Like Pulp Fiction without the guns, San thinks of telling Woo later on, or at least the parts of Pulp Fiction that I actually watched, which aren’t very much.
It’s strange, kind of. San doesn’t think he’d really like this kind of movie normally—it’s unlike anything he’s ever seen, that’s for sure—but it’s hitting spot-on in some weird places right now. Maybe it’s just the Yunho-and-Mingi-making-him-feel-single haze, or whatever brain fog perpetually exists in San’s head that made him think of taking film recommendations from a stranger. It seems oddly intimate, in some freaky, roundabout way, because San’s remembering the fact that this is one of Woo’s favorites, as he said, and that alone seems to be pulling San into every word that the characters say. It’s a little hard to keep up with the flow of their conversation while also reading the translated subtitles, but San finds himself striving to make the effort. He just lets himself get pulled into it, surprisingly uncaring of the fact that he’s pretty sure he’s about to just watch a conversation for the next hour and a half—and maybe that’s the charm of it, he thinks. He wonders what Woo would think about that opinion. That these two people are sharing something completely mundane, something so worldly and natural, but also something romantic and whimsical, woven together by chance and fate.
San stops thinking after a while. He doesn’t know what’s come over him, but there’s something magnetic about the whole film. These people just sit together, talk together, walk together through seemingly endless roads, no jumpcuts or new angles, and it feels so real and lived-in that it almost hurts. They don’t think about the passing of time; they walk and they talk and they don’t get bored of it, and San wonders if he’ll ever meet anyone who’ll go back and forth with him like that, for hours upon hours on end.
He wonders if the type of person who’d call this their favorite film is someone who’s already met someone like that, or someone who’s still looking.
It doesn’t hit San as hard as he expects, when he realizes where this train of thought is heading. It’s about forty-five minutes in when the couple are alone together in this big, empty cathedral, still talking, still listening. San simply blinks at the TV screen as he listens to their lowered, whisper-soft voices, calmly contemplating how pathetic it must be that he feels like he’s falling a little bit in love. Just from this single movie. It’s mostly a thought exercise, San’s not actually in love, he just has to wonder for the sake of posterity, you know? ‘Cause it feels like there’s no fucking way you just share this kind of movie with someone you aren’t a little bit in love with—but maybe that’s just him. Maybe films just move him more than he’d originally thought. Maybe it’s just Woo. Maybe the guy’s a romantic and just loves love, doesn’t necessarily love San. Yeah, that makes more sense.
By the time the film’s nearly over, the sun had already set completely, and San is still alone in his now-dark living room, illuminated only by the light of the TV. There’s about ten minutes left of it when Netflix prompts him with the Are you still watching…? screen, and it makes San feel… odd for some reason, hand shaking a little while he reaches for the remote. San always just clicks Play without asking again most days, but this time… well, he doesn’t know what it is. It just doesn’t feel quite right.
San clicks Ask again later and then finishes the movie, just sitting in the dark for a good ten minutes after it’s over.
Eventually, San exits his profile to leave another message, not expecting to find the fourth profile renamed back to woo—a quiet indication that he’d read San’s last message, and was awaiting his thoughts.
It makes San chuckle, and he’s not entirely sure he’s allowed to feel as warm as he does, but he chalks it down to the aftermath of Before Sunrise and goes to rename his profile before he has to get up and turn on the lights.
that was so good n i am so single n lonely. i wish a hot guy would kiss me in a church even tho i also dont believe in god lol. u do have good taste, pulp fiction was a fluke, should i watch the sequels?
San laughs to himself in disbelief as he presses enter, renaming his profile this ridiculously long thing and hoping to god that Mingi and Yunho don’t check the account before San can change it. Because he’s definitely going insane.
(+1)
Meet me at Amy’s?
San blinks at the TV screen. There’s no way that’s real.
But it is. San tries blinking his eyes really fast, and then really slow, and it’s still there, so it’s real. All four profile names on his Netflix account had been changed—San’s, Mingi’s, Yunho’s and the hacker’s, respectively—to form the four-word question, proper capitalization and all. San should probably be scared, too, because Amy’s is not some obscure code that he can’t decipher; it’s the name of the American-style diner right beside their dorm building.
And this was Woo’s only reply to San’s ramblings last night about wanting to be kissed in a church or something… so.
“San, what the fuck is that?” Mingi’s deep voice comes out of nowhere, startling San as he suddenly just materializes behind the couch. He sounds very genuinely concerned when he exclaims, “Dude, what the fuck, please tell me it was you who changed that, because that’s some serial killer shit!”
San surprises even himself with his relative calmness. He gently sets down the remote, forgetting what he’d even wanted to watch on Netflix in the first place, and looks up at Mingi with a raised eyebrow. “Should I go?”
“Should y— Didn’t I just say that’s some serial killer shit?! You better be joking!”
San clicks his tongue, petulant. “It’s not like there’s an ominous come alone threat or anything, it’ll be fine! It’s not like you’re paying any attention to me anyway.”
“Choi San, you’re missing the point, how does he know about Amy’s? How does he know where you live? This dude’s like, a stalker! You need to call the police!”
“He’s not a stalker,” San defends weakly, psyching himself up as he gets up off the couch. Mingi’s eyes widen even more. “Mingi-yah, there’s always people at the diner, it’s not like someone’s going to murder me in a public place. Besides, don’t you want to know who’s been using the account for the past two months?”
Mingi rolls his eyes. “It’s going to be some creepy old guy, San-ah. Oh, will that finally make you kick him off and change your password? Or are you gonna offer to set up an account of his own because you’re too nice?” Mingi follows him around the area, voice getting more and more frantic as San puts on his shoes and coat. “Oh my god, why did I even say that, that sounds like something you’d actually do. Oh my god. Hongjoong-hyung’s gonna kill me.”
“Relax, Mingi,” San scoffs, slipping his feet into some comfortable shoes before he can really think better of the whole thing. “Worst that can happen is that it’s actually a stalker, and then I’ll call the police. Pinky swear.”
“Dude, that’s not how it works!” Mingi calls out, but San’s already swinging open their door and flying out into the hall, phone and wallet in the pocket of his coat.
He’s not dressed up or anything, but his sweater isn’t ugly and his sweatpants don’t make him look like a sack of potatoes, which is good enough for him. When San comes to the diner anyway, he usually is just in his house clothes, and so are the other residents of their dorm whenever they need a quick, cheap meal and some shitty but unlimited coffee. San thinks he looks more than halfway decent, actually—his hair’s grown out and black and wavy, and the glasses contribute to his charm in addition to contributing to his actual eyesight. Either way, he’s thankful he looks fine without trying too hard, because despite San’s petulance, he knows that Mingi’s right—he shouldn’t be getting his hopes up for whatever this was going to be. Mingi’s also right about the fact that he should’ve thought this through a bit more before going through with it, but he’s dug his grave already by walking out the door, and now it’s best to just say fuck it without looking back.
San doesn’t know what to look for when he walks through the doors of the diner, turning his head warily back and forth to take momentary glances at all the people at the tables.
It could be anyone, he knows. San doesn’t delude himself with the fantasy that he’ll look at someone and just know; life has a way of crushing those kinds of hopes into dust in a split-second. So San just sighs and turns to find his usual table and just figure out the next move from there, wondering briefly if it would be best to just return upstairs.
“Choi San!”
San whips his head toward the other side of the establishment just as he’s walking away, a boy waving to him from one of the booths with this bright, kilowatt smile.
San’s heart is beating a mile a minute, eyes widening into saucers as he walks, the boy’s eyes trained on him the whole time. He’s still smiling when San eventually reaches the table and sits across from him, looking at San with expectant eyes.
“What’s your name?” San blurts out all of a sudden, before he can even process the way the boy smiles at him, the way he looks. Which is… good. Handsome. But San’s mouth is faster than his brain right now, and for some unexplainable reason, he’s waiting with bated breath for the boy’s answer to his question, as if it will finally make everything in the world fall into place, just like that.
“Jung Wooyoung.”
It does.
“Wooyoung,” San repeats, the second syllable suddenly feeling… soft on his tongue. If that makes sense. It’s new. It fits like a puzzle piece. Woo and Young and that smiling, handsome face. Foxy, or maybe San’s imagining it. But it comes together. It comes together, and San laughs, heart feeling suddenly, inexplicably light, and he says, “You hacked my Netflix account, Jung Wooyoung.”
Wooyoung looks down at his lap as he laughs bashfully, but they’re interrupted by one of the waiters who comes to take their order, looking back and forth between them both before directing his question to Wooyoung.
“Can I take your order, Wooyoung-ah?”
“Ew, Seonghwa-hyung, can’t we get a hot waitress?” Wooyoung says, and San is sufficiently shocked—but San is even more shocked when the waiter, Seonghwa, doesn’t seem fazed, and just hits Wooyoung on the back of his head. San has to resist the urge to laugh.
“Fuck you,” Seonghwa says, all while wearing an angelic smile. “I am the hot waitress. Tell me your order, asshole.”
Wooyoung goes to rub at where the smack had landed, looking apologetically at Seonghwa, and Seonghwa rolls his eyes fondly. They must be friends, San speculates. Friendly enough to do whatever that was, at least. Wooyoung chuckles as he says, a little more meekly, “Coffee milkshake, please.”
“Okay, demon,” Seonghwa says, turning his attention to San and fixing him a softer, sweeter kind of smile. “And you? You can have whatever you want, it’s coming out of his tab. Idiot’s been here since the morning, you know.”
Wooyoung groans quietly and covers his face with one hand, and San giggles quietly at the exchange, blood rushing to his own cheeks. Wooyoung was waiting for him the entire day? That’s cute. That’s so fucking cute.
“I’ll just have a milkshake too, please,” San says politely, flashing their waiter what he hopes is just as sweet of a smile.
“Got it,” Seonghwa replies. “Coffee as well?”
San ponders it for a while. He doesn’t have milkshakes here often, so he doesn’t really know, but he decides to mix it up a little. “Cookies and cream?”
“Okay, I’ll have those ready for you in a bit.” Seonghwa smiles at him one last time, walking away to send their orders to the kitchen.
Wooyoung speaks up right when Seonghwa’s out of earshot, and he’s staring at San with a smile that never seems to fall from his face. “God, cookies and cream? You’re so cute. Oh my god.”
San looks down shyly at that, even more blood rushing to his cheeks yet again. “You’ve been here since morning. That’s cute.”
Wooyoung blushes. “Shut up.”
“Why didn’t you call me over right after I walked in?” San asks, curiosity getting the better of him. “It’s not like I knew who you were.”
Wooyoung’s face seems to fall just the slightest bit at that, but it’s lost when he answers, sheepishly, “Ah, well… I was wondering if maybe you’d come to me on your own. Or, if not, I’d see who you would’ve gone to, and I’d find out if there was something you were hoping for.”
San’s heart catches in his throat. He really is a romantic. Huh. “It makes sense you’d enjoy romcoms.”
“Hm,” Wooyoung hums absently, breaking eye contact every few seconds. “I just like things whimsical, I guess.”
“That explains all the Ghibli movies.” San looks down at his own lap, cringing internally at his attempts at small talk, but it doesn’t seem to matter to Wooyoung at all. San is still just in disbelief—he’s talking to Wooyoung about things that he’s only said in their obscure Netflix conversations, and Wooyoung is actually responding, and holy shit, Wooyoung is real. Holy shit. “I… I was hoping for something, by the way. I guess I just didn’t want to set my expectations too high, you know?”
“Really?” Wooyoung looks intrigued for a second after he says it, eyes widening and lips parted around nothing, before he breaks out again into another shy smile. “Well, do I measure up to your expectations?”
San chuckles. How is he supposed to answer that? They just met. How the hell is he supposed to answer that?
“Yeah.”
Seonghwa arrives with their milkshakes, and Wooyoung’s face is a bright shade of red.
“So,” San starts back up, confidence building as Wooyoung suddenly goes speechless. “How did you hack into my Netflix account?”
“Uh,” Wooyoung sputters, picking up his glass and taking a sip of his milkshake as a distraction. “It’s funny, I mean… I didn’t really hack you. I guessed your passwords…”
San pouts, picking up his own milkshake, trying to quell his own embarrassment. “Am I really that easy?”
“Yeah— I mean, no!” Wooyoung quickly corrects himself, and San laughs at his own expense. God, this guy is… something. “No, you just, you seem like the type of person who’d have their friends’ birthdays as their passwords on important stuff, you know? Not in a bad way! Just, like, in that sweet kind of, like… ‘passwords are important and my friends are important to me, so…’ you know, that kind of logic.”
San puts down his milkshake glass before he can even take a sip, leaning back on the couch and folding his arms across his chest. It’s his best attempt at looking offended, but he eventually breaks out into a slow, stupid giggle, not even finding it in him to feel chastised, because, yeah, Wooyoung was kind of right. No, he was right, period. “So you’re saying I was an easy target.”
Wooyoung’s face falls. “No!”
“Nope, that’s basically what you said!” San continues, just to mess with him, because he’s finding very quickly that Wooyoung is so fun to tease. “How did you even get my email, Wooyoung?”
“I got Yeosang to poach it from the school database, okay!”
“Yeosang?” San asks in surprise, tilting his head and leaning forward. “Like, Kang Yeosang?”
“You know Yeosang but you don’t know me?” Wooyoung whines.
“Like, the guy that does the midnight radio?” San asks.
“You listen to that?” Wooyoung exclaims, affronted.
San laughs, grabs the straw of his milkshake and smiles at Wooyoung fondly, a weak attempt at pacification. Yeah, this is definitely the guy who’s been sending him essays through his Netflix profile names. It makes so much sense. San doesn’t know how to explain it, but it just does.
“It comes on in passing when I’m studying,” San explains, taking the first sip of his milkshake with a shrug. It tastes like oreos. He thinks he’s in love. “Doesn’t beat the films you send. Don’t worry.”
Wooyoung leans forward a little onto the table as well, sending San a more muted smile over their milkshakes. It melds with the light of the afternoon sun, the warmth of it. San likes it a lot.
“Well, that’s great, since I am a film major, and all,” Wooyoung volunteers awkwardly, and San is so fucking endeared. Of course Wooyoung’s a film major, recommending someone like San something like Pulp Fiction. “I take it you liked Before Sunrise?”
Oh, did San like that film. San more-than-liked that film. He’s not sipping on his milkshake anymore and he still feels like he might be in love. With the film, of course. With the film. How does he tell Wooyoung something that he himself hasn’t even begun to explore, much less comprehend?
“I liked it,” San starts off simply, making it up as he goes. Looking into the swirl of whipped cream in his glass, he continues, “I liked it ‘cause it was good, but maybe also ‘cause you said it was your favorite…? Not that I’d just, like, automatically like your favorite films, but this was… it made sense. It was your favorite, and that made sense to me. I didn’t even know you—technically, I still don’t—but I felt like I did, I guess? Do you know what I mean?”
The smile is gone from Wooyoung’s face after San is done rambling, replaced by those wide eyes and parted lips yet again. Wooyoung opens his mouth like he’s about to say more, but no sound comes out, and San wonders for a second if he pushed it too far. If he’d really read into the whole thing too much. If he’d let his guard down too much, just because Wooyoung wasn’t some creep or serial killer. The silence lingers for just a few seconds that stretch out into eternities, Wooyoung continuing to sputter, and just as San opens his mouth to start apologizing, Wooyoung seems to finally find his words.
“Y– you can’t just— you can’t just say things like that, you know!” Wooyoung says, blushing furiously, and San just gawks at him, pleasantly surprised. He breaks out into a grin soon enough, Wooyoung letting out puffs of nervous laughter. “You— you have to know what you’re doing, don’t you? You can’t be that oblivious.”
San shrugs his shoulders, giggling as he sips on his milkshake again. “I kind of am, actually. But you’re being really cute right now.”
“That’s just unfair!” Wooyoung whines, pouting around the straw of his milkshake, and holy fuck, San wants to kiss him. Some guy he just met. San wants to kiss him. Maybe he likes things whimsical, too, holy shit. He doesn’t know. Life imitates art, or something. “Choi San, I hacked your Netflix to get your attention because I have this big, dumb crush on you and you need to stop saying shit like that before my literal brain turns into a milkshake in my head.”
Oh, holy shit.
Holy shit, did San just hear that right?
Wooyoung lost San the moment he said the words, ‘big, dumb crush,’ honestly, but the best response that San can come up with is, “You talk the same way you write your messages, Wooyoung-ah.”
San considers punching himself in the face for a second, but the urge is quickly gone when Wooyoung buries his face in his hands with a groan, like his brain actually is turning into a milkshake in his head, and it’s so fucking adorable it hurts. San wants to take Wooyoung into his arms and kiss that head full of mush. Wooyoung, apparently, doesn’t seem to being doing any better.
“San, you’re so fucking cute, I’m going to die. Before Sunrise isn’t even my favorite movie but it might have to be now.”
“Oh?” San asks with a smirk, intrigued. “What is your favorite movie?”
Wooyoung whines, peeking out from where his face is hidden in his hands, slowly coming back up to reveal a pout. Jesus Christ, San wants to squeeze him so bad.
“Not telling. That doesn’t seem like first date material.”
San tilts his head. “This is a date?”
“No,” Wooyoung sits up straight again, seemingly gathering up earlier’s composure and confidence. “You’ll have to take me on one first if you want a chance at finding out, then you have to take me on some more to actually find out.”
San just smiles at Wooyoung, adoring the petulant way he’s trying to look smug, curling his fingers around his milkshake straw and leaning all the way forward onto the table. San loves it. Wooyoung is just so… himself. He knows it sounds a little ridiculous to say, having known him for all of twenty-five minutes, but it’s just true.
“How about this,” San starts, pulling out his wallet and unlocking his phone. “You give me your number,” San slides the phone towards Wooyoung on the table, “I’ll pay for our milkshakes,” he takes some cash out of his wallet, “and you tell me when I can take you out to dinner sometime?”
Wooyoung’s eyes light up at the question, the tips of his ears burning red and he smiles wide, so wide, giddy like a kid in a candy store. “Really?”
San smiles at him as he nods, returning an expression that he hopes is as sincere as the pure joy radiating off of Wooyoung at this very moment, eyes sparkling enough to rival the sun. San decides he wants to keep making Wooyoung smile like that, all else be damned. “Really.”
They talk and finish their milkshakes, San replying to concerned texts from Yunho and Mingi that he’s fine and hasn’t been murdered. They agree to meet for dinner about a week from now and Wooyoung tells San to watch the Before Sunrise sequels before then, and San tells him he’ll try.
They stand up to leave when the sun’s about to set outside, and Wooyoung turns to San one last time before they can walk to the door. “Hey, San?”
“Yes?”
“Can I keep using the Netflix account?”
San just breaks into a soft laugh, leans down to press a kiss to Wooyoung’s cheek before he can think better of it. He can’t help himself, damn it. “Of course.”