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Chapter Text

The first bell at Cheonha High always sounded too cheerful for what it meant — another year of pretending not to care...or more so a year of not caring at all about what or who you did.

Jungwon adjusted the strap of his backpack and stepped through the doors, blending into the crowd as best he could. The hallway was already divided into familiar zones: loud laughter near the trophy cases, couples pressed against lockers, and the quiet few — the ones like him — slipping through unnoticed.

He didn’t mind being invisible. It was easier that way.

“Wonie!”

The call broke through the noise, bright and unashamed. Jungwon turned just in time to see Sunoo jogging toward him, waving like they hadn’t seen each other in years instead of three days. His hair bounced with every step, perfectly styled as always.

“You look like you crawled out of a cave,” Sunoo said, grinning as he tugged on Jungwon’s sleeve. “Did you even try to look alive this morning?”

“I did,” Jungwon said. “This is my alive face.”

Sunoo snorted. “Tragic. Come on, we have first period in the new wing. Let’s go before Mr. Han locks the door again.”

They walked side by side, Sunoo chatting about summer rumors and new teachers, Jungwon listening and nodding in the right places. He liked listening to Sunoo talk — his best friend had a way of filling silence without making it feel heavy.

When they turned the corner toward the science wing, the hallway energy shifted. The popular crowd had gathered by the lockers — all loud laughter, designer bags, and polished shoes. The center of it all was Park Sunghoon.

Even if you didn’t know who he was, you knew who he was. The kind of person who made the air tilt toward him. Tall, sharp, confident. He didn’t talk much, but people always listened when he did.

Jungwon tried not to look, but Sunoo elbowed him lightly. “Don’t stare too long. You’ll turn to stone.”

“I’m not staring,” Jungwon muttered.

“Sure,” Sunoo said, dragging him along anyway. “Let’s not test your willpower.”

As they passed, Sunghoon’s laughter cut through the hallway — low and careless. It shouldn’t have meant anything, but something in it made Jungwon’s chest tighten. He didn’t even know why. Maybe it was the way people orbited around him like he was the center of gravity. Or maybe it was because last year, for one single week, Sunghoon had looked at him differently — talked to him like he actually existed — and then went back to pretending he didn’t.

Whatever it was, Jungwon didn’t plan on caring again.

 

---

Biology was as boring as he remembered. Mr. Han talked about lab safety while half the class zoned out.

Sunoo doodled tiny flowers in the margin of his notebook. “We’re in the same class again,” he whispered. “Thank the gods of academic suffering.”

“Mm,” Jungwon hummed, tapping his pen.

“And we got the best seats,” Sunoo added. “Window, no weird smells, no one behind us to kick our chairs—”

“Don’t jinx it.”

“Relax,” Sunoo said, grinning. “What’s the worst that could—”

The door opened.

Every head turned.

Sunghoon walked in late, his uniform crisp, bag slung over one shoulder like it was an accessory instead of something useful. Mr. Han didn’t even scold him — just sighed and pointed toward an empty seat near the back.

The room shifted as he moved — quiet conversations fading, attention following him like a shadow.

Jungwon pretended to take notes. He didn’t need to look to know Sunghoon’s eyes had swept the room. He could feel it.

Sunoo leaned closer. “You’re so tense right now,” he whispered. “What did he do, murder your cat?”

“No,” Jungwon said flatly. “He just… exists.”

Sunoo muffled a laugh.

The class dragged on. Jungwon stared at the board, forcing himself not to glance back. He could feel Sunghoon’s presence, though — distant but sharp, like static in the air.

When the bell finally rang, Jungwon was the first to stand.

“Lunch?” Sunoo asked, already halfway packed.

“Yeah.”

They joined the stream of students heading toward the cafeteria. Jungwon kept his gaze low, focusing on the floor tiles instead of the noise around them — until someone bumped his shoulder hard enough to make him stumble.

“Watch it,” Sunghoon said, voice calm but cold.

Jungwon froze. “You walked into me.”

Sunghoon raised a brow, expression unreadable. “Did I?”

Sunoo stepped forward, protective and unimpressed. “Try using your eyes next time, Mr. Perfect.”

Sunghoon gave him a dry look, then glanced back at Jungwon. “Guess you’ve found someone to fight your battles now.”

He said it quietly, but it hit anyway. Before Jungwon could respond, Sunghoon was already walking past, his friends following close behind, laughter echoing down the hall.

Sunoo exhaled loudly. “He’s such a jerk. What’s his problem?”

“I don’t know,” Jungwon said. “I don’t think he does either.”

They stood there for a second, watching the group disappear around the corner. Then Sunoo clapped Jungwon on the back. “Come on. I’m buying you fries. You look like you need emotional support carbs.”

Jungwon managed a small smile. “I won’t say no to that.”

As they headed toward the cafeteria, the tension faded — mostly. But in the back of Jungwon’s mind, the moment replayed itself, quieter this time.

The brush of Sunghoon’s shoulder. The brief look in his eyes — not anger, exactly. Something else. Something Jungwon didn’t want to understand.

Not yet.

Chapter Text

It was Thursday, which meant everyone at Cheonha High was collectively one bad quiz away from giving up on the week. Jungwon sat at his desk in English, chin propped on his hand as Mr. Kang paced the front of the classroom, talking about symbolism like it was a matter of national importance.

Sunoo, seated beside him, was very obviously not listening. His notebook was open, yes—but only because he was sketching an army of poorly drawn cats.

“That one looks like it needs therapy,” Jungwon whispered.

Sunoo didn’t look up. “He’s seen things.”

Jungwon snorted, earning a side-eye from the kid in front of him. “What’s the one with sunglasses doing?”

“Preventing burnout.”

It was a miracle either of them passed anything.

Two rows up, Jake was leaning dangerously far back in his chair, whispering something to a half-asleep Jisung. Felix, sitting diagonally behind them, flicked a tiny paper ball with sniper-level accuracy—hitting Jake in the back of the head.

Jake turned around. “You tryna die today?”

Felix grinned. “You started it.”

“I didn’t even—”

“Boys,” Mr. Kang interrupted without looking up from his book. “One more sound, and you’ll be reading your grades out loud for the class.”

Jake sank into his seat. Sunoo bit back a laugh.

The rest of the period passed in a fog of near-silence, interrupted only by pages turning and Sunoo’s quiet giggles at his own doodles. When the bell finally rang, Jungwon felt like he’d survived a war.

 

---

By lunchtime, the hallways had transformed into a chaotic traffic jam. The smell of kimchi fried rice and desperation filled the air as students pushed toward the cafeteria.

Jungwon and Sunoo managed to grab their usual seats by the window. Jake arrived late—again—balancing two trays of food.

“Why do you have two?” Jungwon asked.

Jake sat down, already chewing. “I didn’t eat breakfast. Don’t judge me.”

“You never eat breakfast,” Sunoo said.

“Exactly. I’m making up for lost time.”

Felix and Jisung appeared a few moments later, sliding into the remaining seats. Yeonjun followed, his tie perfectly knotted as always, holding a chocolate milk like it was fine wine.

“You’re late,” Felix said.

“I was helping clean up in the art room,” Yeonjun replied.

“Liar,” Sunoo said. “You were flirting with the art club president again.”

Yeonjun gave him a dramatic gasp. “Excuse me for having charisma.”

“Excuse you for being predictable,” Sunoo muttered.

Jungwon laughed into his drink. It was always like this—banter flying across the table faster than anyone could keep up with. Half the time, he didn’t even need to talk; just watching them argue was entertainment enough.

Across the cafeteria, a certain table was loud as usual. Sunghoon sat at the center, his friends all goofing off like the idiots they were. He looked effortlessly put-together, uniform perfect, expression unreadable.

Jungwon’s eyes lingered for a second before Sunoo nudged his arm.

“Don’t even think about it,” he whispered.

“I wasn’t.”

“You were,” Sunoo said, narrowing his eyes. “I saw the look.”

“I was just zoning out!”

“Sure.”

Jungwon tried to focus back on his food, but he could still hear the laughter from across the room. It was annoyingly loud—like the universe was doing it on purpose.

 

---

By the end of the day, everyone was drained but too wired to go home. As usual, the group stopped at the convenience store near the school gates. It was small, cluttered, and smelled faintly of instant ramen—but it was comfortable.

Felix immediately raided the snack aisle, Sunoo grabbed a strawberry milk, and Jake was experimenting with something dangerously close to a caffeine overdose.

“Bro, you can’t mix energy drinks like that,” Jisung said, watching in mild horror.

Jake shrugged. “Science.”

“Yeah, science and a hospital bill.”

Meanwhile, Yeonjun sat at one of the back tables, scrolling on his phone with his head tilted slightly. He wasn’t frowning exactly, but he wasn’t smiling either.

Jungwon sat across from him. “What’s with the face?”

“Nothing,” Yeonjun said, locking his phone. “Just reading something dumb.”

“Like?”

“Like you minding your business,” Yeonjun said with a grin that didn’t quite hide his nerves.

Jungwon rolled his eyes. “You’re the worst.”

“Thank you.”

The group settled into their usual rhythm—bickering, laughing, sharing snacks like they hadn’t eaten lunch two hours ago. Sunoo was trying to convince Jisung to do a TikTok dance in front of the store’s security camera.

“Imagine if it went viral,” Sunoo said.

“Imagine the principal finding it,” Felix countered.

“Okay, maybe not that viral,” Sunoo said.

Jake laughed so hard he almost choked on his drink. Jungwon leaned back in his chair, smiling faintly. It was dumb, but in the best way.

Then the bell above the door jingled.

Kai walked in.

He looked effortlessly careless as usual—uniform jacket unbuttoned, hair slightly messed up, earbuds hanging around his neck. He spotted their group right away and walked over.

“Yo,” he said.

“Yo,” Yeonjun replied. His tone was casual, but his shoulders tensed just a little.

Jungwon noticed.

Kai grabbed a drink from the fridge but didn’t leave. “You weren’t at rehearsal.”

“I had plans,” Yeonjun said.

Kai raised an eyebrow. “With who?”

“None of your business.”

“It is my business if we’re supposed to be partners.”

The chatter around the table quieted. Even Sunoo stopped mid-sip.

Jungwon exchanged a look with Felix, who mouthed "awkward".

Yeonjun stood, meeting Kai’s gaze. “I said I had plans. Drop it.”

“Why are you acting like this?” Kai asked, frowning. “You used to actually care.”

Yeonjun’s expression flickered—annoyance, maybe guilt, definitely something complicated—but it passed fast. “Yeah, well. People change.”

Kai scoffed, shaking his head. “Whatever.”

He turned and paid for his drink before leaving, the door slamming behind him.

For a second, no one spoke.

Then Jake broke the silence. “So… we’re not inviting him next time, right?”

“Jake,” Jungwon said flatly.

“What? Just asking.”

Sunoo sighed. “Man, that was tense.”

Felix leaned forward. “Are you okay, Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun forced a laugh. “Yeah. Just tired of dealing with people like him.”

Nobody argued with that.

 

---

Later, when the sun dipped low and the air smelled faintly of gasoline and cold, the group started to head home together.

Felix had one earbud in, nodding along to something Jungwon couldn’t hear. Sunoo was still complaining about the math quiz they’d all failed. Jake and Jisung walked ahead, laughing at something on Jake’s phone.

Yeonjun walked beside Jungwon, quieter than usual.

“You sure you’re fine?” Jungwon asked finally.

Yeonjun smiled, eyes still on the sidewalk. “Yeah. It’s just a dumb argument. He’ll get over it.”

“Will you?”

“Obviously,” Yeonjun said with a grin that didn’t match his tone. “I always do.”

Jungwon didn’t press. They turned a corner, and the neon glow from the convenience store faded behind them. The streetlights buzzed to life one by one.

Sunoo jogged up to Jungwon’s side. “Okay, but hear me out—what if tomorrow we skip morning classes and go get bubble tea instead?”

“Sunoo,” Jungwon said, already sighing.

“C’mon! You need to live a little. You’re seventeen, not seventy.”

“Skipping class isn’t living.”

“It’s the start of living.”

Felix laughed from behind them. “Sunoo’s right, though. You could use a little chaos in your life.”

Jungwon glanced over his shoulder. “You mean your kind of chaos? The last time I followed your lead, I got detention.”

“Worth it,” Felix said proudly.

By the time they split off toward their different neighborhoods, the mood had lifted again. Sunoo waved dramatically before disappearing down his street. Jake yelled something about bringing snacks tomorrow.

Jungwon shoved his hands into his pockets and smiled to himself. The week hadn’t been great, but it wasn’t bad either. Just… normal.

He could live with normal...right?

Chapter Text

The rink lights hummed overhead, a soft white glow that made everything look colder than it already was. Ice stretched across the space like glass — smooth, quiet, waiting.

Sunghoon was the only one on it.

His skates glided effortlessly, carving silver lines that looped and crossed over each other. The air was sharp against his lungs, but familiar. His balance was perfect — it always was. The world outside the rink could fall apart, and he wouldn’t flinch, not as long as he was moving.

From the benches, Jay’s voice broke the silence. “You’re seriously not human, dude. Do you ever slip?”

Sunghoon didn’t look up. “Only when people won’t shut up.”

Jay let out a laugh, loud enough to echo. He was bundled in a coat that looked two sizes too big, a coffee in hand. Ni-ki sat beside him, arms folded, tapping his knee impatiently.

“I don’t get why we have to sit here freezing while he twirls around like Elsa,” Ni-ki muttered.

Jay snorted. “Because he’s the only one who can actually do it.”

“I could do that if I tried.”

Sunghoon spun sharply on one blade, landing the turn with a smooth slide. “You can’t even walk in a straight line.”

Jay almost choked on his drink. “He’s got a point.”

Ni-ki rolled his eyes. “I’m not trying to be a figure skater, hyung.”

“Good,” Sunghoon said, skating past them. “You’d break your neck.”

It was all teasing — that effortless, slightly mean kind of banter that kept them entertained when there wasn’t anything else to talk about. Jay was half-watching, half-recording on his phone, narrating like a sports commentator.

“Park Sunghoon, gold medalist in being an overachiever—oh, and there’s the spin! The crowd goes wild!”

Ni-ki threw a handful of ice shavings toward him. “You’re so lame.”

Jay grinned. “You’re just jealous I have charisma.”

Sunghoon half-smiled to himself as he skated another lap. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he liked the noise — Jay’s constant commentary, Ni-ki’s complaining. It kept the place from feeling too empty.

That changed when the doors opened again.

The sound was subtle — a low creak followed by the thud of skates being dragged across the floor. Sunghoon slowed, coasting to a stop near the center of the rink.

Kai stood near the entrance, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, his jaw tight. His hair was slightly mussed, like he’d walked here too fast.

Jay lifted a hand in greeting. “Yo! Didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

Kai gave a short nod but didn’t answer. He looked tired — not physically, but the kind of tired that comes from trying to keep calm when everything in your head is screaming.

Ni-ki frowned. “You okay? You look like you fought a ghost.”

Kai gave a humorless chuckle. “Something like that.”

Jay leaned forward. “Yeonjun?”

That earned him a sharp look. “Can we not?”

Jay raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Just asking.”

Sunghoon skated over, stopping by the barrier. “You two fought?”

Kai hesitated. His eyes drifted to the ice, watching the faint reflection of the lights ripple under the surface. “Yeah. Guess so.”

“What about?” Jay pressed.

Kai sighed through his nose. “Doesn’t matter.”

Jay exchanged a look with Ni-ki, who shrugged.

Sunghoon studied him for a second — the stiffness in his shoulders, the way his phone kept lighting up in his pocket, only to go dark again. “You’re not gonna fix it standing there,” he said eventually.

Kai’s jaw twitched. “You sound like my mom.”

Sunghoon smirked faintly. “She’s right, though.”

For a while, no one said anything. The cold air settled between them like a wall. Sunghoon went back to skating, slower now, long glides that cut through the quiet. The others stayed on the benches — Jay scrolling through his phone, Ni-ki absently kicking at the rubber mats beneath his feet, and Kai… staring at his screen.

Every minute or so, Kai would pull out his phone, thumb hovering over the messages app.

Yeonjun 🩵

The last thing on their chat was from earlier that day — a short, clipped “whatever.” He typed out a few words, deleted them, typed again.

> Kai: Can we talk?
Kai: I didn’t mean to say that.
Kai: Seriously, Jun. Pick up.

 

Three dots didn’t appear. No read receipts. Just silence.

He tried calling once. Then again.

Nothing.

The rink seemed to get colder with each unanswered ring.

Jay noticed. “Still not answering?”

Kai locked his phone, muttering, “Guess he’s busy.”

Ni-ki leaned back, stretching his arms. “Or maybe he’s making you sweat.”

Kai glared. “You really think this is funny?”

Ni-ki lifted a brow, unbothered. “You’re the one who called him out in front of his friends."

Jay shot him a warning look, but the damage was already done. Kai’s expression hardened. He stood abruptly, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“Forget it,” he muttered, walking toward the far end of the bleachers.

Jay sighed. “Nice one.”

Ni-ki frowned. “What? It’s true.”

“Yeah, but maybe don’t say it now.”

Sunghoon circled the rink once more before skating to the side again. “Let him cool off,” he said quietly. “He’ll come back.”

Jay looked toward the corner where Kai had gone — sitting on the lowest bleacher step, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.

“You really think so?”

“People like him don’t stay quiet for long.”

Jay smirked. “You saying that from experience?”

Sunghoon didn’t respond. His reflection on the ice wavered slightly, blades etching another thin pattern before stopping completely.

He thought about what Ni-ki said — about calling someone out in front of everyone. The words hit closer than he wanted to admit. He wasn’t exactly the gentle type either.

He let out a breath and turned toward the benches. “You guys want to actually do something or just sit there freezing?”

Jay perked up. “You mean… skate?”

Ni-ki immediately shook his head. “No way.”

“You said you could do it.”

“I lied!”

Jay burst out laughing. “C’mon, we’ve got rental skates right here.” He nudged the extra pair near the boards.

Ni-ki groaned but grabbed them anyway. “If I die, tell Heeseung I hate him.”

“That’s dramatic even for you,” Jay said, grinning.

A few minutes later, Ni-ki stepped onto the ice — immediately slipping, flailing, and grabbing the barrier for dear life.

Sunghoon’s laughter actually slipped out, short and unguarded. “You look like a baby deer.”

“Shut up!” Ni-ki yelled, gripping the rail. “It’s slippery!”

Jay recorded everything, commentary in full force. “Breaking news: Ni-ki discovers the laws of physics!”

“Delete that!”

“Never.”

Even Kai, from his corner, looked up and cracked a faint smile. The sound of their laughter filled the rink again, bouncing off the empty walls.

For a few moments, it didn’t feel tense anymore — just easy. Simple.

Sunghoon skated a few laps around Ni-ki, dodging him like an obstacle. “Try bending your knees,” he said.

“Try minding your business,” Ni-ki shot back, wobbling.

Jay laughed so hard he almost fell off the bench.

When Sunghoon finally slowed down, he noticed Kai standing again, phone in hand. He was staring at the screen like it held something heavy.

Sunghoon glided to a stop nearby. “Still nothing?”

Kai didn’t look up. “Yeah.”

“Give him time,” Sunghoon said quietly.

Kai exhaled slowly, pocketing his phone. “That’s the problem. I don’t know how much time he needs… or if he even wants it.”

Jay and Ni-ki had moved further down the rink, arguing over whether Ni-ki’s “technique” counted as skating or surviving. The noise carried faintly through the cold air, mixing with the hum of the lights.

Sunghoon leaned on the barrier beside Kai. “Sometimes people pull away because they don’t know how to talk. Not because they don’t care.”

Kai turned to him, surprised. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”

Sunghoon shrugged, eyes still on the ice. “Maybe.”

For a while, they both watched the others — Jay laughing, Ni-ki trying not to fall. It was oddly peaceful, even with all the noise.

Then Kai’s phone buzzed. Both of them looked down.

Yeonjun 🩵: Can’t talk right now.

No explanation. No apology. Just that.

Kai read it twice before locking his phone again. “Guess that’s something.”

Sunghoon nodded. “Better than silence.”

Kai didn’t answer, but his shoulders eased a little.

When they left the rink later that night, Sunghoon hung back for a second, looking over the smooth stretch of ice one last time. The marks from his blades were still there — messy, imperfect, fading at the edges.

He zipped up his jacket and followed the others out into the cold.

Outside, the night air was colder, but somehow lighter.

Chapter Text

By the time Friday rolled around, the air at Cheonha felt heavier than usual, not with anything dramatic, but with that unspoken weight of expectations and leftover tensions. Everyone could feel it, even if they pretended not to. Yeonjun, in particular, seemed quieter than normal. He moved through the hallways as if trying to avoid leaving a shadow. Sunoo, of course, noticed. That was Sunoo’s superpower: noticing things that didn’t belong.

Dance class promised at least a temporary distraction. The studio was bright and mirrored on every wall, the floor cold under sneakers, and the scent of sweat and floor polish thick enough to taste. Jungwon leaned against the wall, stretching, half-hoping for a reason to skip, half-wishing he’d stayed in bed. Felix was already talking a mile a minute, bouncing on the balls of his feet with an energy that could have powered the school for a week. Hyunjin was calm but radiated a sort of quiet frustration, the kind that meant he’d pretend to be cooperative until someone did something stupid — which, with this group, was inevitable.

Ni-ki plopped down onto the floor with a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms. “Why do they always make us do group choreography? Why not just let me dance by myself and look flawless?”

“Because teamwork builds character,” Hyunjin said flatly, tying his hair up, eyes flicking to the mirrors.

“Then I think my character’s already built enough, thank you,” Ni-ki muttered, clearly delighted with his own wit.

Felix doubled over laughing. “That’s one word for it.”

Minho was scrolling through his phone as though the world outside the screen didn’t exist. He barely even looked up when the teacher announced the groups — the six of them would work together. Jungwon felt a twinge of dread. This group wasn’t chaos; it was a maelstrom waiting to happen.

The door slid open, cutting through the tension, and in walked Jisung, earbuds dangling, a flash drive twirling between his fingers like a baton. “Delivery for the chaos squad,” he said, tossing it toward Minho.

“Thanks, squirrel,” Minho said, catching it one-handed without looking up.

“Wow, already?” Jisung arched a brow. “You don’t even know if it’s a good track yet.”

“I don’t need to,” Minho replied smoothly. “You made it.”

“Was that supposed to be an insult or a compliment?”

“Yes.”

Jungwon let out a small groan, pressing a hand to his forehead. “And it begins.”

Jisung rolled his eyes and countered, “You mean, you began. You’ve been waiting for someone to argue with for ten minutes.”

“I’m practicing my endurance,” Minho said, not missing a beat.

Felix and Ni-ki were entirely entertained, Hyunjin only shook his head in mock annoyance, and Yeonjun — Yeonjun remained distant, like an observer who didn’t quite want to exist in the room, though Jungwon caught the faintest twitch of a smile at Minho’s one-liner.

“Break it up, kids,” Hyunjin said finally. “Some of us actually want to get started before you turn the studio into a debate hall.”

“You say that, but you’re the one who’ll end up dancing in slow motion for half the routine,” Jisung fired back over his shoulder.

“Get out before I use your track for warm-ups,” Minho called after him, and Felix laughed so hard that he almost tripped over his own feet.

With Jisung gone, a strange quiet settled over the room, just long enough for everyone to notice how many of them had wandered into the wrong mental space. Yeonjun was still standing in the back, arms crossed, a faint crease between his brows. Jungwon glanced over at him, eyebrow raised. “You gonna move, or are you just meditating on life choices?”

Yeonjun shrugged, not looking up. “We’ve got the concept down. Just need to clean the transitions.”

Felix clapped his hands, jumping to action. “Okay! Let’s structure this before it falls apart. Someone lead!”

“Not me,” Felix said again, holding up his hands defensively. “I’m too nice for that.”

“That’s one word for it,” Jungwon muttered, smirking. Ni-ki snorted and leaned back, clearly enjoying the verbal chaos.

Hyunjin took a deep breath and marked the first few counts with his hands. The room fell into rhythm: sneakers squeaking against the polished floor, low thumps of stomps, occasional “Wait, that was off” from Felix. Minho immediately argued with Hyunjin over spacing. Ni-ki improvised something completely offbeat just to annoy everyone, while Jungwon silently prayed for someone to throw a stray pillow his way so he could pretend to faint.

At one point, Felix spun too close to Jungwon, almost knocking him over.

“Bro—!” Jungwon barely regained his balance, planting his feet firmly. “You trying to kill me or what?”

“Sorry, sorry!” Felix said, laughing. “You just looked too still. Needed a little action!”

“I’ll give you action,” Jungwon muttered, pushing Felix lightly.

Ni-ki nearly fell over laughing. Hyunjin groaned, Minho rolled his eyes, and Yeonjun — finally — smiled, a small but real curve of amusement. Jungwon caught it, and for a split second, felt like things were normal again.

They went through the track a few more times, adjusting formations, tossing out stupid suggestions, and arguing over counts. Jungwon found himself laughing more than he had all week. Ni-ki’s antics, Felix’s energy, and Hyunjin’s dry sarcasm were the perfect storm of ridiculousness. Even Minho’s hyper-competitiveness added a kind of structure to the chaos.

At one point, Ni-ki tripped over Felix’s sneaker and nearly took down Jungwon with him. Jungwon grabbed him just in time.

“Are you trying to take me out before the climax?” Jungwon asked, eyebrows raised.

“Maybe,” Ni-ki said, grinning.

“God, this is exhausting,” Hyunjin muttered, holding up his hands dramatically.

When the teacher came back after what felt like five minutes of absence, she stopped mid-step, staring at the room like she’d walked into another universe.

“Progress?” she asked, voice cautious.

“Depends on your definition,” Hyunjin said, voice deadpan.

“Still working out formations,” Felix added, voice far too cheerful.

“Still?”

Yeonjun finally stepped forward, plugging in the flash drive again. “We have the concept. Now we just need to polish transitions.”

The teacher nodded slowly, seemingly satisfied. Or maybe she just didn’t have the energy to fight them. Either way, she left.

Felix exhaled, muttering something about surviving by “pure charm.” Jungwon chuckled quietly, glancing at Yeonjun again. He was still not fully present, but the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement when Hyunjin dramatically flopped to the floor mid-spin.

 

---

By the end of class, they were packing up. Hyunjin was complaining about his back, Ni-ki was stealing Felix’s water bottle, and Minho was muttering about fixing “Jisung’s bass.” Yeonjun left quietly, arms crossed, not saying a word to anyone. Jungwon noticed, but didn’t comment. Sunoo, walking beside him, didn’t either — instead, he nudged Jungwon.

“Yeonjun’s weird lately,” Sunoo said casually.

Jungwon hummed. “Weird how?”

“Like… weird weird. Not moody weird. He’s not present in class.”

“That’s descriptive,” Jungwon said.

“You know what I mean,” Sunoo said, bumping him gently. “He looked like he was trying not to exist in dance class.”

“Maybe he’s just tired.”

Sunoo raised a brow. “You think Yeonjun gets tired?”

Jungwon laughed. “Fair point.”

They passed Jeongin leaning casually against a locker, phone in hand. His grin widened when he spotted them.

“Hey, losers.”

“Hey, flirt,” Sunoo shot back.

Jeongin gasped. “Flirt? Please. I’m subtle.”

“You’re about as subtle as Felix’s hair dye,” Jungwon said.

They looked to the side to see Seungmin walking briskly down the hallway, notebook clutched in one hand, glancing at the floor as he went. He thought he had managed to slip away unnoticed, but of course, Jeongin had other plans.

“Leaving so soon?” Jeongin’s voice called out from behind, warm and teasing.

Seungmin rolled his eyes without looking back. “Hardly. I just have places to be, unlike some people who linger around lockers all day.”

Jeongin smirked, catching up in a few long strides. “Oh, so now I’m the clingy one?”

“You’re dramatic,” Seungmin said, still not turning, though a small smile tugged at his lips. “And that’s saying a lot coming from someone who flirts with me like it’s their job.”

Jeongin leaned against the lockers beside him, casual but deliberate. “Flirting is an art,” he said, voice low. “And clearly, I’m a master. Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.”

Seungmin finally looked at him, one brow raised. “I enjoy it,” he admitted with a grin. “But don’t think for a second that gives you free reign to tease me endlessly.”

“Free reign?” Jeongin echoed, mock-offended. “I’m hurt. Here I am, offering affection and charm, and you’re worried about boundaries?”

Seungmin shrugged, smirking. “Boundaries exist for people who can’t handle me. Lucky for you, I’m generous.”

Jeongin’s grin widened. “Generous, huh? I like that. But let’s be real… you secretly like being caught off guard by me.”

Seungmin scoffed, though his cheeks warmed slightly. “Secretly, maybe. But only because you make it impossible not to notice you.”

Jeongin chuckled softly, nudging him with an elbow. “Oh, I make it impossible all right. And you know it.”

Seungmin leaned casually against the lockers, folding his arms. “You do realize you’re basically begging me to sass you back, right?”

“Best part,” Jeongin said with a grin, “is watching you try to look all composed while I dismantle that composure piece by piece.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes dramatically but didn’t step away. “Dismantle away, then. But don’t be surprised when I hit back twice as hard.”

Jeongin leaned closer, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of being surprised. That’s why this is so much fun.”

Seungmin smirked, shaking his head. “You really are impossible, you know that?”

“And you love it,” Jeongin countered instantly, voice low so no one else could hear.

Seungmin’s smile widened. “…Maybe,” he admitted, though his tone was more defiant than shy.

Jeongin nudged him again, grinning. “See? That’s the spirit. I like it when you fight me a little. Makes it all the more satisfying.”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow. “Satisfying for who exactly?”

“Me,” Jeongin said without hesitation. “But don’t worry. You get your fun too.”

Seungmin let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re sassy,” Jeongin replied smoothly. “Honestly, I could watch you do this all day.”

Seungmin groaned but couldn’t hide the small grin tugging at his lips. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance,” Jeongin said, finally stepping back just a little, though the smirk never left his face. “But I’ll give you a break… for now.”

Seungmin shook his head, still smiling. “You’re lucky I like you, Jeongin.”

“And I’m lucky you do,” Jeongin replied, voice softening just a fraction. Then, with a last playful wink, he turned down the next hallway, leaving Seungmin to continue to class with his heart lighter, cheeks still warm, and a small, reluctant grin that wouldn’t fade.

“He is such a weirdo…" Sunoo said, exhaling a laugh.

Jungwon shook his head, smiling. “He'll give Seungmin a heart attack one day.”

“That's a bit much, no?” Jungwon questioned.

The two of them walked towards their next class laughing, the tension of the week easing with every step.

“By the way,” Sunoo said, glancing at Jungwon, “you’re coming over later, right? We’re watching that drama Felix won’t stop obsessing over.”

“The one with the vampire teachers?” Jungwon asked.

“That’s the one,” Sunoo said.

Jungwon sighed. “Fine. But if it sucks, I’m leaving halfway.”

“You say that every time,” Sunoo said.

“And I mean it every time,” Jungwon replied.

 

---

The history classroom was quiet except for the faint hum of the ceiling fan and the sound of students flipping through their notebooks. Jungwon dropped into his usual seat beside Sunoo, sliding his bag under the desk. Across from them, Yeonjun sat slouched with his elbows propped on the table, his face buried in his hands as his phone glowed in front of him.

He hadn’t said much all morning. Even now, he looked like he’d aged ten years overnight.

Sunoo tilted his head. “You look like someone just broke up with you.”

Yeonjun groaned into his palms. “Might as well have.”

Sunoo leaned over, trying to peek at the screen. “What, did Kai text you?”

“No,” Yeonjun muttered, voice muffled. “That’s the problem. I haven’t texted him. Not since last night.”

Sunoo frowned. “You’re ignoring him? I thought you said you were gonna apologize.”

Yeonjun slowly lifted his head, hair messy and expression torn. “I was. I am! I just… don’t know what to say.” He turned his phone around, showing them the long, unsent message on the screen — a rambling paragraph of half-confession, half-apology.

Sunoo blinked. “…Wow. That’s a lot of feelings for a draft.”

Yeonjun slammed his head lightly on the desk. “I know! It’s pathetic. I’ve been trying to hit send for two hours, and every time I read it, I hate it more.”

Jungwon, who’d been quietly unpacking his books, finally spoke up. “You’ve been quiet all day, and now you’re stress-writing a novel?”

Yeonjun let out a low groan. “I messed up, okay? I shouldn’t have snapped at him. But he just—he gets under my skin. He’s so confident and stupidly good at everything, and I…” He trailed off, frowning at his phone. “…I like him. Which only makes it worse.”

Sunoo smirked, leaning on one arm. “You like him, but you’re ignoring him?”

“Yes!” Yeonjun said, exasperated. “Because if I talk to him right now, I’ll say something even dumber. I panicked last night and now I look like an idiot.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. “So your plan is to… keep ignoring him?”

“Temporarily!” Yeonjun said defensively. “I just need to figure out what to say. You ever tried apologizing to someone who looks that good playing the drums? It’s impossible.”

Sunoo laughed. “Oh, it’s that bad?”

“Yes,” Yeonjun said miserably. “It’s that bad.”

Jungwon hid a small grin behind his notebook. “Maybe start by saying sorry instead of writing a confession essay.”

Yeonjun leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, because that’s so easy when the guy you like looks like a walking daydream.”

Sunoo chuckled. “I mean, fair. Kai is fine.”

Yeonjun pointed dramatically. “Exactly! He’s perfect! It’s infuriating.”

Sunoo was clearly enjoying this too much. “So what’s the part that made you panic?”

Yeonjun sighed. “We were in class yesterday, and I said something stupid. He tried to talk to me after, but I brushed him off. Now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Ah,” Sunoo said with mock sympathy. “You’re love-stupid. It’s tragic, really.”

Jungwon rolled his eyes. “Can we maybe focus on the essay before the teacher comes back?”

“Don’t act like you’re not invested,” Sunoo said, smirking at him.

“I’m not,” Jungwon said flatly.

Yeonjun sighed again, thumbing through his phone. “You two ever had a crush so bad it makes you physically ill?”

Sunoo snorted. “Once or twice.” Then he glanced sideways at Jungwon, a slow grin forming. “What about you? Anyone get you that worked up?”

Jungwon looked up sharply. “What? No.”

Sunoo leaned back casually. “Not even someone tall, good-looking, annoyingly good at skating—”

“Stop,” Jungwon said immediately.

“—and has that face that screams ‘main character?’” Sunoo finished, ignoring him.

“Sunoo,” Jungwon warned.

Yeonjun glanced up from his phone, realizing who they were implying. “Wait, are we talking about Sunghoon?”

Jungwon’s ears turned pink. “No, we’re not. And we’re definitely not talking about that guy.”

Sunoo grinned like a cat with cream. “You didn’t even deny it properly.”

“I just did!” Jungwon snapped, flipping his notebook open. “Can we please talk about our assignment instead?”

Yeonjun smirked. “You’re getting awfully defensive for someone who doesn’t like him.”

“I’m not defensive!” Jungwon insisted. “I just don’t want to talk about him. Ever. Or his face. Or his stupid hair. Or—” He stopped himself, realizing both of them were staring at him, fighting smiles. “…I hate both of you.”

Sunoo laughed openly. “You’re hopeless.”

Yeonjun chuckled too, finally looking more relaxed than he had all day. “Hey, I’m not the only one losing my mind over someone, apparently.”

Jungwon pretended to study the textbook, ignoring them. “If we don’t finish this essay, we’re going to fail.”

“Mmhm,” Sunoo hummed. “Sure. Deflect all you want.”

Yeonjun leaned back in his chair, exhaling through a laugh. “You two make this class bearable, you know that?”

“Glad to be of service,” Sunoo said with a grin. “Now go ahead and write that message before you lose your nerve.”

“I’ll do it after class,” Yeonjun muttered, glancing back at the draft again. “Maybe.”

“Do it,” Sunoo said, tapping the table. “Trust me, you’ll feel better.”

Jungwon glanced between them, sighing. “This is turning into a group therapy session, not history.”

Yeonjun chuckled quietly, finally tucking his phone away. “Yeah, maybe. But… thanks. Both of you.”

Sunoo smiled. “Anytime, lover boy.”

Jungwon groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “Someone end this class already.”

The bell rang, almost on cue. Sunoo burst into laughter, Yeonjun shook his head, and Jungwon—despite himself—let out a small, reluctant laugh too.

For the first time that day, Yeonjun looked like he could breathe again.

 

---

The rest of the day dragged on like slow motion. Even the sound of sneakers squeaking on the polished floors between classes felt muted — or maybe that was just Yeonjun’s head still spinning from his own thoughts.

Every time his phone buzzed, he froze. Every time a tall figure with blonde hair passed by in the hallway, his stomach flipped. It wasn’t even like Kai had done anything wrong. Yeonjun was the one who had ignored him — had stared at that message for hours and still couldn’t bring himself to press “send.”

Now, watching the clock tick toward the end of the final period, his leg bounced under the desk. Jungwon and Sunoo had already left for study hall, leaving him sitting alone, tapping his pencil against the edge of his notebook and trying not to think about the unread texts waiting in his phone.

The bell finally rang. The classroom erupted with chatter and chairs scraping back, and Yeonjun just sat there for a moment, staring blankly at the open textbook in front of him. His heart was pounding.

He didn’t even remember standing up, but somehow he was in the hallway, the air filled with the sound of laughter and footsteps. His phone felt heavier than usual in his hand.

He scrolled up through their chat — through all the old messages that used to make him smile — and then stopped at the last unread one from Kai. “Did I do something wrong?”

Yeonjun swallowed hard, slipping the phone into his pocket. His sneakers squeaked as he turned the corner toward the music wing.

Kai was right where he expected him to be — sitting at his locker, tapping a pair of drumsticks against his knee with his headphones around his neck. His uniform shirt was half unbuttoned, hair slightly messy like he’d run his hands through it too many times.

For a moment, Yeonjun hesitated. Every possible way to start the conversation flashed through his mind — jokes, excuses, apologies. But none of them felt right.

Kai looked up at the sound of footsteps, his expression unreadable at first. Then his eyes softened, cautious but hopeful.

Yeonjun exhaled, stepping closer until he was just a few feet away. The hallway had mostly emptied by now, leaving only the faint hum of the vending machine and the muffled sounds of the gym.

His voice came out quiet, almost trembling, but certain.

“...Kai, can we talk?”

Chapter Text

The grocery store on the corner of Yeongnam Avenue wasn’t exactly exciting, but Jungwon liked that about it. It was quiet. No classmates, no chatter, no background chaos of Cheonha High. Just the low hum of refrigerators and the rhythmic squeak of shopping carts that gave the place a sort of white noise calm.

He was halfway through his mental list already — eggs, milk, rice, green onions, and ramyeon because Sunoo would probably show up again uninvited this weekend — when he stopped at the produce section, phone in hand, scrolling for the last item.

“Tofu,” he muttered to himself.

He crouched down to reach the bottom shelf, grabbing one of the soft ones because firm tofu never cooked the same way for him.

He was calm. Peaceful, even. The kind of peace that made him forget that he shared a school with a certain infuriating ex–figure skater who acted like the world revolved around his cheekbones.

“Wow. Didn’t think I’d ever see you voluntarily outside your room.”

Jungwon froze.
That voice could ruin anyone’s day in under three seconds.

Slowly, he looked over his shoulder — and there he was.

Park Sunghoon.

Leaning against a shelf like it was a photoshoot prop, hands in his pockets, wearing that same smirk that could either charm or infuriate depending on who you were. Unfortunately, Jungwon fell squarely into the latter category.

He sighed, standing up with the tofu in hand. “You following me now?”

Sunghoon scoffed. “Please. If I wanted to stalk someone, I’d pick someone who didn’t look like they shop here just to buy cat treats.”

Jungwon squinted at him. “Do you ever say anything nice?”

“Only to people who deserve it.”

“Then I guess I’ll never hear it.”

Sunghoon grinned like he’d been waiting for that response. He straightened up and started walking beside Jungwon, uninvited, as the younger made his way toward the next aisle.

“Relax, I’m just here for snacks,” Sunghoon said, tossing a bag of chips into his basket like the dramatics of showing up weren’t intentional. “Didn’t know you did your own groceries.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You just seem like the type who lives off takeout or instant noodles.”

Jungwon shrugged. “You seem like the type who gets his mom to do everything for him.”

“Ouch.” Sunghoon laughed, though the glint in his eyes said he was oddly entertained. “Didn’t think you had it in you to bite back today.”

“I’m not in the mood for your teasing.”

“You’re never in the mood for my teasing.”

“Maybe that should tell you something.”

Sunghoon tilted his head, amused. “That you secretly love it?”

Jungwon gave him a look that could’ve curdled milk.

The older only grinned wider. “Relax, kitten. I’m kidding.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? It suits you.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Sure it does. You even hiss when you’re mad.”

Jungwon exhaled through his nose, deciding that saying nothing was safer. He turned into the next aisle — noodles — and tried to ignore the sound of Sunghoon’s shoes trailing behind him like a shadow that refused to be shaken.

“Need help picking ramyeon?” Sunghoon asked, leaning against the shelf again. “I bet you’ll pick the mild one. You don’t look like you can handle spice.”

“I literally ate tteokbokki with Jake last week.”

“Wasn’t that the same night you were red for twenty minutes?”

Jungwon whipped around. “How do you even know that?”

“Jake told me.”

“Tell him to mind his business.”

Sunghoon chuckled, grabbing a random ramyeon cup and dropping it into Jungwon’s basket. “Here. Try this one. Extra hot.”

“I don’t want that.”

“Try it anyway. Builds character.”

“You’re annoying.”

“And you’re fun to mess with.”

It was ridiculous — standing in a grocery store aisle arguing over instant noodles like they were an old married couple. Jungwon didn’t know why Sunghoon always found ways to appear out of nowhere and ruin his peace, but he was starting to think it was on purpose.

Still, there was something about the way Sunghoon talked — light, teasing, careless — that made it impossible to tell if he actually meant any of it or if he just liked watching Jungwon squirm.

By the time they reached the checkout, Jungwon’s patience was hanging by a thread. Sunghoon, of course, wasn’t done.

“So, what are you making with all that?” Sunghoon nodded at Jungwon’s basket.

“Dinner.”

“For who?”

“Myself.”

“No one else?”

Jungwon glanced up. “You sound disappointed.”

Sunghoon smirked. “Maybe I am. Could’ve used a home-cooked meal.”

“Too bad. You’ll live.”

“You sure?”

Jungwon stared at him. “Are you flirting or just really annoying?”

“Why not both?”

Before Jungwon could snap back, the cashier called him forward. He exhaled, thankful for the interruption, and set his items on the counter. Sunghoon stood beside him instead of leaving like any normal person would.

When Jungwon finally paid and reached for his bags, Sunghoon casually grabbed one before he could stop him.

“I got it.”

“I can carry it myself.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t. Just being nice.”

Jungwon eyed him suspiciously. “You’re never nice without a reason.”

“Maybe I’m trying something new.”

“Try harder.”

Sunghoon laughed — that low, infuriatingly soft laugh that made Jungwon’s pulse spike no matter how hard he tried to act unbothered.

They walked outside together, the autumn air crisp and bright. The quiet of the street almost made Jungwon forget who he was walking next to, until Sunghoon spoke again.

“So,” he said lightly, “you going to that party tomorrow?”

Jungwon blinked. “What party?”

“The one that literally everybody has been talking about for the past week.. Everyone’s going.”

“Then no.”

Sunghoon snorted. “Why not?”

“Because everyone’s going.”

“That includes me.”

“Exactly.”

Sunghoon pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Ouch. You really don’t like me, huh?”

Jungwon rolled his eyes. “You act like that’s new information.”

“Still hurts, kitten.”

“Stop calling me that before I drop this bag on your foot.”

Sunghoon only smiled, utterly unfazed. “You wouldn’t. You’re too nice.”

“Try me.”

He let out another small laugh, handing back the grocery bag. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

“Bye, Sunghoon.”

“See you tomorrow,” the older said, and Jungwon froze.

“I’m not going to the party.”

“Sure you’re not.”

And with that infuriating smirk, Sunghoon turned and walked away — hands in his pockets, posture loose, like he hadn’t just completely ruined Jungwon’s good mood.

Jungwon watched him disappear down the street, then groaned under his breath. “He’s impossible.”

He shook his head, clutching his groceries tighter as he started toward home, unaware that Sunghoon glanced back once — just long enough to see him go.

 

---

By the time Jungwon made it back to his apartment, the sky had already turned soft and gray, the kind of Friday evening that hummed with lazy energy. He slipped off his shoes, set his groceries down on the counter, and sighed in relief — finally alone. No Sunghoon. No drama. Just silence.

He hummed quietly while unpacking everything, lining ingredients on the counter like a cooking show contestant. He didn’t exactly love cooking, but there was something soothing about it after a long week of classes. Slice, stir, taste, repeat. Predictable.

The sound of his knife hitting the cutting board echoed softly through the kitchen. Green onions, tofu, mushrooms — the works. He was halfway through seasoning the broth when his phone buzzed on the counter.

> 🦊 Sunoo: u home??

 

He typed back with one hand.

> 🐾Jungwon: yeah why
🦊 Sunoo: omw :)

 

Jungwon frowned.

> 🐾Jungwon: …for what
🦊 Sunoo: gossip duh
🦊 Sunoo: and ur cooking smells good btw open up

 

A knock came almost immediately after the last text.

Jungwon let out a small groan but walked to the door anyway. When he opened it, Sunoo was standing there like he owned the place — jacket half-zipped, hair perfectly styled, holding a drink in one hand and a mischievous grin in the other.

“You’re way too comfortable just showing up here,” Jungwon said, stepping aside.

Sunoo breezed in like a storm. “You love me.”

“I tolerate you.”

“That’s love in your language.”

Jungwon sighed and went back to his pot. “Make yourself useful. Grab bowls.”

Sunoo hopped onto the counter instead. “Or I could just sit here and look pretty.”

“You always do that anyway.”

“Aw, thanks.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

They fell into their usual rhythm — Jungwon cooking while Sunoo narrated every thought that came to mind like he was auditioning for a talk show.

“So,” Sunoo started, dangling his legs off the counter, “I heard from Jisung that Minho nearly threw his notebook at him during music theory today.”

Jungwon didn’t even look up. “That’s like the third time this week.”

“I know! It’s getting spicy. Jisung swears Minho hates him, but every time they argue it’s just… weirdly flirtatious?”

Jungwon snorted. “You say that about everyone who argues.”

“Yeah, but they’ve got that enemies with eye contact thing going on. Like, Jisung says something dumb, Minho rolls his eyes, but then they both smile a little? I’m telling you, there’s tension there.”

“Or just two people who can’t stand each other.”

Sunoo gasped dramatically. “Jungwon, please. Don’t kill the fun.”

“I’m being realistic.”

“You’re being boring.”

He ignored him, focusing on tasting the broth. It was actually perfect — warm, salty, with a bit of spice he could thank (or blame) Sunghoon for.

Sunoo hopped off the counter, peering over his shoulder. “What are we eating?”

“Soup. And rice.”

“Wow. Domestic. If you ever get married, your spouse is lucky.”

Jungwon almost choked on his spoon. “Why are you even saying that?”

“Because I’m manifesting. Anyway, speaking of marriages that will never happen—” Sunoo propped his chin on his hand. “You and Sunghoon still at each other’s throats?”

Jungwon paused mid-stir. “…He showed up at the store.”

“Of course he did.” Sunoo laughed, snatching a piece of tofu from the pot. “What happened this time?”

“The usual. He annoyed me. I told him to leave. He didn’t.”

Sunoo grinned. “Let me guess — he called you kitten again.”

“Don’t say it.”

“He totally did, didn’t he?”

“Sunoo.”

“Jungwon.”

The younger gave him a deadpan look, but Sunoo only grinned wider.

“I’m serious,” Jungwon muttered, turning off the stove. “He’s impossible. Every time I see him, he finds a way to get under my skin.”

“Maybe because he likes you.”

Jungwon rolled his eyes so hard it could’ve caused damage. “He doesn’t.”

“Then why’s he always around?”

“Because he’s a pain.”

Sunoo chuckled, carrying the bowls to the table. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

They sat down to eat, and for a few minutes, the only sounds were the quiet clinking of spoons and the distant hum of traffic outside. It was nice — comfortable.

Until Sunoo leaned forward again, resting his cheek in his hand. “Okay, but real talk — who do you like?”

Jungwon nearly dropped his spoon. “What kind of question is that?”

“A curious one.”

“I don’t.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Fine, then let me guess—”

“Please don’t.”

“Sunghoon.”

“Sunoo.”

The older laughed so loud Jungwon had to shush him. “Oh my god, that face! You totally do.”

“I don’t!” Jungwon’s ears burned as he looked anywhere but at him. “Why would I like someone who treats me like a joke?”

“Because you secretly enjoy it.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Eat your food.”

Sunoo took another spoonful, still smiling knowingly. “You know, I’m starting to think you like being in denial.”

“I’m starting to think I should’ve locked my door.”

“That wouldn’t stop me.”

Jungwon groaned into his bowl. “Why do I even tell you things?”

“Because I’m your best friend, and I make your life more entertaining.”

“Debatable.”

After dinner, they lingered in the living room, half-watching a drama on TV while scrolling through their phones. The air felt lighter — until Jungwon’s phone buzzed again.

> 🐶 Jake: yoooo u guys coming tomorrow?

 

Sunoo immediately snatched Jungwon’s phone. “Ooh, what’s tomorrow?”

“That random senior's party.”

“Party?” Sunoo’s eyes lit up. “We’re going.”

Jungwon frowned. “We’re not doing anything. I’m staying home.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Wrong.”

“Sunoo, there’s gonna be so many people there—”

“Exactly! That’s the point!”

“I don’t do parties.”

“You will now.”

“I can’t. Sunghoon’s going.”

Sunoo gave him a flat look. “You’re letting him decide your plans?”

“I’m letting my sanity decide my plans.”

“Same difference.”

Jungwon crossed his arms. “I’m not going.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

Sunoo grinned, holding up Jungwon's phone. “You are. Because I already texted Jake back.”

Jungwon blinked. “You what—”

“Too late~.”

“Sunoo!”

“Relax, it’ll be fun! You need to get out more. Plus, maybe you can finally tell Sunghoon to his face that you don’t like him.”

“I don’t need to go to a party to do that.”

“Yeah, but it’ll be funnier with background music.”

Jungwon threw a pillow at him. “I actually hate you.”

Sunoo dodged it, laughing. “You’ll thank me later.”

“I really won’t.”

“Oh, you will.”

They bickered until nearly midnight, trading jokes and petty arguments between bursts of laughter. Eventually, Jungwon gave up, leaning back on the couch with a sigh.

“Fine,” he muttered. “If I go, I’m staying sober.”

“Sure, sure.” Sunoo smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

“Sunoo—”

“Goodnight!”

And just like that, he grabbed his jacket, waved dramatically, and disappeared out the door before Jungwon could protest again.

Left alone in the quiet apartment, Jungwon groaned, covering his face with a pillow.

“Why do I let him control my life,” he mumbled to no one.

The pillow muffled his next words — a mix of complaint and reluctant amusement.

“Tomorrow’s gonna be a disaster.”

He wasn’t wrong.

 

---

By Saturday night, Jungwon was seriously reconsidering all of his life choices — specifically the one where he let Sunoo trick him into going out.

He stood in front of his mirror, frowning at his reflection. Nothing looked right. His hair kept falling into his eyes, his jacket looked too “try-hard,” and the idea of stepping into a crowded house full of strangers made his stomach twist.

He was halfway through debating whether to fake a sudden fever when headlights flashed through his window.

A second later, his phone buzzed.

> 🦊 Sunoo: come out loser
🦊 Sunoo: i’m honking in 5

 

Jungwon sighed, slipping on his shoes. “He actually would,” he muttered under his breath before locking the door behind him.

Sure enough, when he stepped outside, Sunoo’s car was parked at the curb — music blasting, the windows slightly fogged from the cold. Sunoo was in the driver’s seat, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

“You look good!” Sunoo said as soon as Jungwon climbed in. “See, I told you you’d clean up nice.”

“I feel overdressed,” Jungwon muttered, buckling his seatbelt.

“You look perfect. Also, you’re welcome for saving you from another lonely Saturday night.”

“I was fine being lonely.”

“No, you weren’t.”

Jungwon turned to glare at him, but Sunoo was too busy adjusting the playlist to notice. The older hummed along to a pop song, tapping the steering wheel as if this was just another normal outing and not an ambush disguised as “fun.”

“Whose party is this again?” Jungwon asked after a moment.

“Uh…” Sunoo squinted at his phone. “I actually don't know. But he’s in the business program or something. Jake said it’s supposed to be chill.”

“‘Chill’ as in quiet or ‘chill’ as in cops-get-called-after-midnight?”

“Little bit of both.”

Jungwon groaned. “I’m leaving if it’s loud.”

“You say that every time and you never do.”

“That’s because you steal my keys.”

Sunoo smiled, eyes flicking toward him for a second. “Exactly. Teamwork.”

The drive didn’t take long — fifteen minutes of neon lights, muffled laughter spilling from sidewalks, and Jungwon silently regretting every second of it. When they turned onto a residential street, the noise hit first: bass thumping from a house that was very obviously over capacity. Cars lined the curb, groups of students hung around the lawn, and colored lights pulsed faintly through the windows.

“‘Chill,’ huh,” Jungwon muttered.

Sunoo killed the engine, unbothered. “Trust me, you’ll survive. You just need one drink.”

“I said I’m staying sober.”

“Right, right.” He grinned. “We’ll see about that.”

Inside, the air was thick with heat and sound — music blasting, people talking too loudly, laughter cutting through every few seconds. Jungwon stuck close to Sunoo, trying not to bump into anyone as they weaved through the crowd.

It smelled like cheap perfume, beer, and bad decisions.

Sunoo seemed to thrive in it, waving at random classmates, chatting like he’d been born for this environment. Jungwon, meanwhile, felt his anxiety crawl up his throat.

“Can we find somewhere quieter?” he finally said over the music.

Sunoo nodded, gesturing toward the kitchen. “Come on. Drinks and gossip central.”

They slipped in, and Jungwon immediately relaxed a little. It wasn’t exactly quiet, but at least he could hear himself think. A few familiar faces were gathered around — Beomgyu, Taehyun, and Jake among them — laughing over some story.

“Hey!” Jake called. “You guys made it!”

“Would’ve been here sooner,” Sunoo said, “but someone had to pick an outfit for an hour.”

Jungwon shot him a look. “Because someone ambushed me into going.”

Jake laughed. “You’ll thank him later. It’s not that bad.”

Jungwon glanced around the room. “So far.”

He had just started pouring himself a soda when the energy in the kitchen shifted slightly — that low hum of whispers that always meant someone unexpected had walked in.

Sunoo noticed it too, his grin faltering just enough for Jungwon to catch it.

“Don’t tell me,” Jungwon said quietly.

Sunoo didn’t answer.

Jungwon turned, and there he was.

Sunghoon.

Casual as ever — dark jeans, white tee, jacket slung over his shoulder, smile too easy for someone who caused Jungwon this much stress. He was laughing at something Ni-ki said, eyes crinkling, completely unaware of the way Jungwon’s heart immediately began pounding like a drumline.

“Of course he’s here,” Jungwon muttered under his breath.

Sunoo raised a brow. “You gonna say hi?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then at least act normal.”

“I am normal.”

Sunoo gave him a knowing look. “Right. Totally. You’re definitely not gripping that cup like it owes you money.”

Jungwon exhaled sharply, trying to steady his hands. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“Shut up.”

Before he could retreat, Jake waved Sunghoon over.

“Hey! You made it!” Jake said, moving aside so the taller boy could step into the kitchen.

Jungwon froze.

Sunghoon’s eyes flicked around the room, briefly scanning faces — until they landed on Jungwon.

That smirk appeared instantly. “Didn’t expect to see you here, kitten.”

Sunoo pressed his lips together to keep from laughing.

Jungwon forced a polite smile that looked more like a grimace. “Don’t call me that.”

Sunghoon just grinned wider. “Then stop showing up where I am.”

“You showed up where I am.”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

Sunoo leaned toward Jake, whispering, “Ten bucks says one of them snaps within five minutes.”

Jake whispered back, “My money’s on Jungwon.”

Sunghoon, clearly enjoying himself, reached for a drink. “You look good, though.”

Jungwon blinked. “…What?”

“Didn’t expect you to dress up. Thought you’d show up in sweats.”

Sunoo raised his brows. “Flirting already, huh?”

Sunghoon smirked. “Just being honest.”

Jungwon rolled his eyes and muttered, “I’m leaving,” before pushing past them — but Sunghoon caught his wrist just as he tried to go.

The noise around them blurred into static.

“Relax,” Sunghoon said softly. “I’m kidding.”

Jungwon glared at him, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up his neck. “Then stop.”

Sunghoon let go, smile faltering for half a second — quick, but Jungwon saw it.

He turned away before he could read into it, muttering, “I need air,” and slipping through the crowd toward the back door.

 

---

The hot tub hissed and bubbled, steam rising to mingle with the cool night air. Most of the partygoers had retreated indoors or were sprawled in the yard, leaving only a few stragglers near the water. Minho sank back against the edge of the tub, letting the warmth ease the tension in his shoulders. He’d had a few drinks, enough to loosen his nerves but not enough to dull his awareness, and it was nice to finally have a quiet moment.

Then Jisung climbed in.

He stumbled slightly, hair damp and plastered to his forehead, cheeks flushed pink from both the alcohol and the heat. He grinned at Minho, a drunken, crooked kind of smile that immediately set Minho on edge. “Mind if I join?” he slurred.

Minho tilted his head. “Depends. You planning on staying out of trouble?”

Jisung’s grin widened, tilting his head closer. “Trouble? Me? Never.” He moved in, hips brushing Minho’s with a casual, intimate ease that made Minho’s pulse skip.

Minho’s hands gripped the edge of the tub instinctively, trying to keep himself steady. “You’re insanely drunk.” He let out a light laugh.

Jisung laughed softly, a low, unsteady sound that made Minho’s stomach flutter. He leaned closer, their shoulders touching now, and reached out to trace Minho’s arm with a finger. “Drunk?” he repeated, voice slow and drawling. “I’m just…relaxed. You like it.”

“I—” Minho started, but the word died in his throat as Jisung leaned closer, brushing his forehead against Minho’s shoulder.

The younger’s hands moved with drunken confidence, trailing along Minho’s arms, teasing over the surface of the water. “Relax,” Jisung murmured. “Stop thinking. Just… feel.”

Minho swallowed, breath hitching. He could feel the warmth of Jisung’s body pressing against his own, could feel the drunken weight of the younger leaning in. His hands twitched, then moved, gripping Jisung’s thigh in response to the closeness, holding him steady as much as staking his claim.

Jisung let out a soft, breathy laugh and shifted. Before Minho could protest, the younger climbed a little, straddling Minho’s lap, water sloshing around them. “Better?” Jisung asked, fingers bracing against Minho’s shoulders, leaning closer, teasing with every inch.

Minho’s hands moved up to Jisung’s hips, thumbs rubbing just enough to feel the warmth beneath his fingertips. His chest was hammering, pulse high, every nerve on edge. “You’re insane,” he muttered, though the edge in his voice was gone, replaced by a mix of anticipation and something darker, sharper.

Jisung laughed again, low and soft, leaning in closer so their faces were just inches apart. “Insane?” he echoed, voice teasing and heavy with alcohol. “Or… irresistible?”

Minho blinked, heat blooming in his ears. His grip on Jisung’s hips tightened reflexively, fingers digging in slightly as if to ground himself. “You’re—dangerous,” he murmured.

“Mm,” Jisung hummed, a satisfied little sound, leaning down so his chest pressed against Minho’s. Every small movement was deliberate, teasing. “You like it. Admit it.”

“Jisung—” Minho’s words caught, breath hitching. He couldn’t look away from Jisung’s flushed, mischievous face, couldn’t stop the way his body responded. One hand moved to rest lightly against Jisung’s lower back, feeling the soft pressure of him against his hips. The younger shifted slightly, pressing closer, and Minho groaned softly, part frustration, part need.

Jisung’s lips curved into a smirk, drunken and lazy, still dangerously close. “Chill out. Stop pretending you don’t want this,” he whispered.

Minho’s pulse raced, head spinning from the warmth, the closeness, the alcohol, and the raw tension of it all. He caught Jisung by the hips as the younger leaned further in, fingers digging slightly, hips rocking just enough to tease, to claim. His own hands moved instinctively, anchoring Jisung to him. “You’re… unbelievable,” he murmured.

Jisung’s laugh was soft and breathy, low enough to make Minho’s stomach twist. “And yet, you like it.”

Minho pressed a hand along Jisung’s side, feeling the slight tremor in the younger’s body. “Maybe… maybe I do,” he admitted quietly, voice rough, unsteady.

The two of them were pressed close, bodies moving in tiny, teasing motions, hips brushing, hands gripping, a slow rhythm of tension and intoxication. Jisung’s drunken boldness and Minho’s tipsy caution collided, creating a charged, electric atmosphere. Neither spoke, neither moved away; they were suspended in that moment, breaths mingling, hearts racing, every nerve alive, every inch of contact amplifying the tension between them.

Jisung let out a soft laugh and leaned in just a little more, eyes glinting, fingers brushing along Minho’s arm. Minho responded instinctively, gripping Jisung’s hips tighter, letting the younger shift just slightly, rocking into him, testing boundaries. The heat between them was thick, almost suffocating, every touch loaded with unspoken intent.

And then, in that heavy, electric pause, Jisung’s hand hovered lower, just above the line where Minho’s swim shorts began, teasing with intention. “I can be good…just for you hyung.” Jisung whispered, alcohol-scented breath mingling with Minho's. The older of the two stayed silent for a moment before a smirk formed on his face, hips moving up slightly.

“Are you sure that you can handle me?” Minho grinned. Jisung's response was to let out a heavy sigh, his hand dipping under Minho's waistband.

---

The music from the party still hummed faintly through the walls as Jungwon stumbled out onto the porch, jacket slung over his arm. The cool night air hit his face, sobering him slightly but not enough to make him steady on his feet. He sank into the corner of the porch railing, hands gripping the wood, and exhaled.

“Jungwon?”

He froze. Sunghoon was leaning against the railing a few feet away, one hand resting casually on the wood, the other holding a half-empty bottle. His smirk was infuriatingly perfect, the kind that made Jungwon want to push him immediately—and yet, something softer lingered in his gaze.

“You’re drunk,” Jungwon said flatly, keeping his voice steady despite the flutter in his chest.

“And you’re barely sober,” Sunghoon replied smoothly, “but still acting like a brat.”

“I’m not acting,” Jungwon snapped, arms crossing defensively. “I just don’t like being ambushed.”

Sunghoon stepped closer, the faint scrape of his shoe against the wooden floor catching Jungwon’s attention. “Ambushed? Really? I come outside to get some air, and suddenly it’s like I’m a villain.”

“You always make it about you,” Jungwon muttered, looking away, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Always?” Sunghoon tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly, a teasing edge in his voice. “Is that your problem? Or are you just mad because I’m here?”

“I’m not mad,” Jungwon said, though his tone betrayed him. “I’m… irritated. That’s all.”

Sunghoon took another step closer, and Jungwon’s heart kicked up a notch. “Irritated,” he repeated softly. “You’re just like me when you’re sober—can’t admit when something actually matters.”

Jungwon finally looked at him, catching the vulnerability behind the smirk. The air between them thickened, charged and dangerous. “What do you want, Sunghoon?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady despite the heat creeping up his neck.

Sunghoon exhaled, leaning against the railing so that he was now closer, almost inside Jungwon’s personal space. “I want you to help me,” he said, quieter now, almost a whisper. “I need you… to be my fake boyfriend. My parents—” He hesitated, swigging from the bottle, “—they’re gonna try and set me up with some random girl, and I can’t let that happen. I need you.”

Jungwon blinked, stunned. He opened his mouth, ready to argue, but Sunghoon held up a hand, his expression earnest despite the tipsiness. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he added, eyes locking onto Jungwon’s. “I’m not saying it’ll be fun for me—maybe—but for you? I’ll make sure you get something out of it too.”

The porch was quiet except for the faint thrum of distant music. Jungwon’s thoughts swirled, part of him screaming no, part of him curious, and another part completely thrown by the earnestness in Sunghoon’s eyes.

“What do I get out of it?” Jungwon asked finally, his voice low, matching the tension.

“You’ll see,” Sunghoon said, shrugging like it was obvious. “But it’ll be good. Trust me.”

Jungwon opened his mouth to respond, to say something sharp or sarcastic, but the words caught in his throat. He looked away, out into the dark yard, the tension of the night pressing in on both of them.

He didn’t answer.

And Sunghoon just let him sit there, a faint smirk returning to his face, the night wrapping them in a quiet, suspended moment that neither wanted to break.

“…So?” Sunghoon prompted after a long pause.

Jungwon’s lips twitched, his brain still whirring. He might have been tipsy, but the question was heavier than any drink could make him feel.

He didn’t say a word.

The porch fell silent again, the faint glow of the porch light casting long shadows over them, leaving everything unsaid lingering between them.

Chapter Text

“You said yes!?”

Jungwon flinched as Sunoo’s voice practically echoed through the small kitchen. His fork clattered against his plate, rice scattering across the table.

“Could you not yell?” Jungwon muttered, dragging his sleeve over his face in embarrassment. “My neighbors already think I’m weird.”

Sunoo didn’t even try to tone it down. “You—Yang Jungwon—agreed to pretend date Park Sunghoon? The same Park Sunghoon who made you trip over your own backpack last year?!”

“Sunoo,” Jungwon groaned, “it’s not that deep.”

“Oh, it’s that deep,” Sunoo shot back, pointing his chopsticks at him like an accusation. “You hate that guy.”

Jungwon hesitated. “I don’t hate him.”

Sunoo squinted. “Okay. Then what do you call glaring at someone every time they breathe near you?”

“That’s called self-preservation,” Jungwon said flatly, stabbing his food.

Sunoo made a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest. “Self-preservation from hot people, apparently. God, this sounds like one of those bad Wattpad fics you pretend not to read.”

Jungwon threw a napkin at him. “Can you not?”

“Sorry,” Sunoo said, clearly not sorry. He slumped down in the chair across from Jungwon, chin in hand. “I just can’t believe you said yes. Did he bribe you? Threaten you? Did he flash that stupid smirk and your brain short-circuited?”

“Sunoo!”

“What?!” Sunoo giggled, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m just trying to understand what kind of emotional crisis you were in.”

Jungwon let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “He said his parents are… making him marry someone. Some girl from his dad’s business connections, apparently.”

That quieted Sunoo. He leaned back in his chair, the teasing fading a little. “Wait—seriously?”

“Yeah,” Jungwon said, fiddling with his chopsticks. “He said if they think he’s already in a relationship, they’ll back off for a while. So…”

Sunoo frowned. “That’s actually… messed up.”

“I know.” Jungwon pushed his plate aside. “I thought he was joking at first. But he looked serious. I mean—he’s still a jerk, but you could tell he was desperate.”

Sunoo hummed, tapping his nails against the table. “So let me get this straight. He comes to you, his least favorite person, and asks you to fake date him just to avoid being forced into marriage.”

“Yeah.”

“And your response was, ‘Sure, why not?’”

“I didn’t say it like that!” Jungwon protested.

Sunoo grinned. “You basically did.”

“I just…” Jungwon trailed off, shoulders slumping. “I don’t know, Sunoo. I felt bad for him. I’ve never seen him that—helpless, I guess.”

The kitchen fell quiet for a second. The only sound was the faint ticking of the wall clock and the occasional clink of utensils.

Sunoo’s expression softened. “That’s really sweet of you, Wonnie.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I mean it,” Sunoo said, ignoring him. “You act all prickly, but you’re literally made of sympathy and repressed crushes.”

Jungwon snapped his gaze up. “Excuse me?”

Sunoo smirked. “What? You think I didn’t notice how you get all stiff whenever Sunghoon talks to you? Or how you secretly stare at him during lunch?”

“I do not stare at him.”

“Please. If looks could kill, he’d have died of confusion weeks ago.”

“Sunoo—”

“Admit it!”

Jungwon groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re so annoying!”

Sunoo only laughed harder. “I’m just saying—maybe the universe is trying to help you. This could be your chance to, I don’t know, stop hating him so much.”

“I don’t hate him,” Jungwon mumbled through his palms.

“Sure.”

“I don’t!”

“Then why did you look like you were gonna faint when he touched your shoulder last week?”

“That was static electricity!”

Sunoo’s laughter filled the room again, bright and unrestrained. Jungwon glared, but there was no real heat behind it.

After a while, the laughter died down, and Sunoo leaned his elbows on the table, looking thoughtful. “You really think you can pull this off? Like, actually fake being a couple with him?”

Jungwon hesitated. “I don’t know. It’s not like we have to kiss or anything—he just said his parents need to see that he’s in a relationship.”

“And if they wanna meet you?”

Jungwon blinked. “What?”

“His parents, dummy.” Sunoo gestured wildly. “What if they invite you to dinner? Or some fancy event? You’ll have to actually act like you like him.”

“Oh my god.” Jungwon slumped in his seat. “Why would you say that out loud?”

Sunoo shrugged. “Because it’s true.”

Jungwon groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “This is such a mistake.”

“It’s not,” Sunoo said. “You’re doing something nice for someone, even if he’s kind of a douchebag. That’s very you.”

Jungwon peeked through his fingers. “You’re being too nice. I don’t trust it.”

“I’m serious,” Sunoo said with a soft smile. “You’ve got a big heart, Jungwon. Even if you try really hard to hide it.”

Jungwon didn’t respond right away. His chest felt weirdly tight, like he wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words. He picked at the edge of his plate instead.

“Thanks,” he muttered finally.

Sunoo beamed. “You’re welcome! Now—back to the important stuff.”

Jungwon blinked. “What important stuff?”

“The details, duh.” Sunoo pulled out his phone like he was taking notes. “When are you gonna tell the group? What’s your couple aesthetic? Are you gonna do soft matching outfits?!”

Jungwon stared in horror. “What—no! We’re not doing any of that!”

“Oh come on, it’s fake dating! You have to sell it!”

“Sunoo, I am not wearing a matching hoodie with Sunghoon.”

“You say that now…”

“Sunoo.”

“…but wait until he buys one first.”

Jungwon’s groan was muffled by his hands again. “Why are you like this?”

“Because I care,” Sunoo said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “Also because I live for chaos.”

“Clearly.”

They both fell into quiet laughter after that, the kind that came naturally—comfortable and warm. Despite Sunoo’s teasing, Jungwon felt a little better.

He leaned back in his chair, letting out a sigh. “I just hope this doesn’t blow up in my face.”

“It probably will,” Sunoo said without missing a beat.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Then, with that mischievous grin again, Sunoo reached for Jungwon’s plate. “You gonna finish that?”

Jungwon smacked his hand away. “Get your own.”

Sunoo gasped in mock betrayal. “Wow. I give emotional support and this is how you repay me?”

“Yup.”

“Ungrateful.”

“Drama queen.”

“Future fake-boyfriend-haver,” Sunoo sang under his breath.

Jungwon threw another napkin at him.

 

---

“He said yes?!”

Jay nearly choked on his drink. The soda fizzed violently, spilling over his fingers as he gawked at Sunghoon. “No, you’re lying.”

Sunghoon leaned back on the couch, one arm resting over the backrest, looking entirely too smug for someone who’d just committed emotional arson.
“I’m not lying.”

Jay blinked several times, as if trying to process. “Jungwon. That Jungwon. The guy who once told you he’d rather ‘eat his own notes than talk to you’—that one?”

“The very same,” Sunghoon said casually, picking at the label of his water bottle.

Jay just stared for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Oh, this is rich. You actually did it. You really convinced him to pretend to date you. I can’t decide if I’m impressed or deeply concerned.”

Sunghoon smirked faintly. “A little of both, probably.”

Jay leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Okay, walk me through this because I feel like I’m missing several brain cells worth of logic here. Why him? You could’ve picked anyone, Hoons. Literally anyone.”

Sunghoon tilted his head. “Because he wouldn’t say yes.”

Jay blinked. “…What?”

“He’s predictable,” Sunghoon said simply. “He hates me. Or—thinks he does. So my parents would never expect it to be fake if I showed up with someone like him. They’d believe it.”

Jay sat back, processing. “So, basically, you picked him because he’s the last person anyone would buy as your boyfriend, and that makes it more believable.”

“Exactly.”

Jay’s jaw dropped. “You are so unserious.”

Sunghoon shrugged. “I’m desperate, not stupid.”

Jay sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You realize this is going to backfire spectacularly, right? Like, your family’s going to want to meet him. There’ll be dinners. Photos. Possibly matching outfits.”

Sunghoon winced. “I didn’t think that far.”

“Clearly.”

There was a beat of silence before Jay’s tone softened. “So… your parents are really doing this? Trying to make you marry someone?”

Sunghoon’s expression shifted. The cocky smirk faltered, replaced by something quieter—more tired. “Yeah. My dad’s business partner’s daughter. Apparently she’s ‘perfect wife material.’”

Jay made a face. “Translation: she’s from a rich family and her dad owns something useful.”

“Pretty much.” Sunghoon stared at the condensation on his bottle. “They’ve been pushing the idea for weeks. I told them I’m not interested, but they don’t really listen when they’ve already decided something’s good for me.”

Jay’s humor faded completely. “That’s messed up, man.”

Sunghoon just hummed in response. He’d stopped trying to argue with his parents years ago—it was like talking to a wall that smiled politely while rearranging your entire life.

“So I thought,” Sunghoon continued after a moment, “if I showed up with someone they really didn’t like, they’d stop trying to set me up.”

Jay snorted. “So your solution was to introduce them to your nemesis. Genius.”

Sunghoon shot him a glare. “You’re not helping.”

“Oh, I’m not trying to,” Jay said with a smirk. “I’m just trying to understand the sheer amount of chaos you’ve chosen for yourself.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, but there was a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It’ll be fine. It’s just a few months. Enough time for them to forget about the whole marriage thing.”

“And what about Jungwon?” Jay asked pointedly. “You think he’s just gonna play along out of pure generosity?”

“I told him I’d help him with whatever he needed in return,” Sunghoon said simply.

Jay raised a brow. “Whatever he needed?”

“Within reason.”

“Define ‘reason.’”

Sunghoon looked away. “I don’t know yet.”

Jay laughed again, shaking his head. “You’re insane.”

“I’m practical.”

“You’re a disaster waiting to happen.”

Sunghoon smirked. “Maybe. But at least it’s an entertaining disaster.”

They both laughed for a moment before Jay’s phone buzzed. He checked it quickly and grinned. “Jake just texted—apparently Jisung called him in a panic because he doesn’t remember anything from last night.”

Sunghoon groaned. “Of course.”

“Yeah, apparently Minho’s been avoiding everyone too. So that’s a fun mystery.” Jay looked up with a teasing glint. “You sure you didn’t spike Jungwon’s drink while you were at it?”

“Jay.”

“Kidding, kidding,” Jay said, still grinning. “Man, I wish I could’ve seen your face when he said yes.”

Sunghoon thought back to it—the way Jungwon’s brows had furrowed, how his lips had parted in disbelief before he muttered, “This is actually stupid.” Then that reluctant pause. The quiet, hesitant “Fine. I’ll do it.”

He hadn’t expected it. Not really.

“I was… surprised,” Sunghoon admitted quietly.

Jay tilted his head. “You like him.”

Sunghoon blinked. “What?”

Jay smirked. “You like him.”

“I do not,” Sunghoon said immediately, sitting up straighter.

Jay chuckled. “Okay, sure. Then why do you remember what he looked like when he agreed? And why are you suddenly staring at nothing like a man having a crisis?”

“I’m not—”

“You are.”

“Jay.”

“Sunghoon.”

They glared at each other until Jay broke into laughter again. “Oh my god, you so do. This is going to be hilarious.”

“I don’t like him,” Sunghoon muttered again, but his tone lacked conviction.

Jay smirked knowingly. “Keep telling yourself that, Romeo.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Sunghoon threw a pillow at him. Jay dodged easily, still laughing.

The laughter faded after a moment, and the quiet returned—this time heavier. Jay leaned back, exhaling slowly. “You know, all jokes aside… this could get complicated.”

“I know,” Sunghoon said softly.

“I’m serious. Your parents are intense, and Jungwon’s not exactly a people pleaser. If they push him, he’s gonna bite back.”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon murmured. “That’s kind of what I like about him.”

Jay’s eyebrows shot up. “Ohhh, there it is.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Sunghoon said quickly, heat creeping up his neck.

“Sure you didn’t.”

“Jay.”

“What?”

“Stop.”

Jay just smiled knowingly. “I’m just saying, don’t be surprised when pretending stops feeling like pretending.”

Sunghoon went quiet at that. He didn’t answer, because deep down, he already knew Jay wasn’t entirely wrong—and that terrified him.

He changed the subject instead. “You think my family’s gonna freak out?”

“Oh, definitely,” Jay said without hesitation. “Your mom’s gonna go full PR crisis mode, and your dad’s gonna act polite but judge him silently. It’ll be great.”

Sunghoon groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I hate this already.”

“Hey, you brought it on yourself.” Jay chuckled. “But hey, on the bright side, at least this will be fun to watch.”

“For you, maybe.”

“For everyone, honestly.”

Sunghoon shot him a deadpan look. “You’re a terrible friend.”

“I’m an honest friend.”

“Same thing.”

Jay smirked, leaning back with a stretch. “So when’s the big reveal?”

“Probably next weekend,” Sunghoon said. “Mom wants me home for dinner, and she always asks about my love life, so… perfect opportunity.”

Jay grinned. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

“Jay, come on!”

“What? I’m excited! You’re bringing home the one person your parents would rather pretend doesn’t exist. This is premium entertainment.”

Sunghoon sighed. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

Jay just smiled innocently. “I live for drama.”

“Clearly.”

They sat there for a bit longer, scrolling through their phones while the TV murmured in the background. For all his sarcasm, Jay could tell Sunghoon was already spiraling in quiet thought.

After a long pause, Jay glanced at him again. “You know… you don’t always have to do things alone, right?”

Sunghoon looked up, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone.

Jay shrugged. “You act like you can handle everything yourself, but you don’t have to. Not with stuff like this.”

Sunghoon was silent for a long time before finally nodding. “…Yeah. I know.”

Jay gave a small smile. “Good. Just making sure you remember.”

The quiet stretched again, but it was easier now. Less heavy.

Eventually, Jay yawned and stood, grabbing his jacket. “Alright, lover boy. I’m heading out before you spiral any harder.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Too late.”

Sunghoon threw another pillow at him on his way to the door. “Get out.”

Jay laughed, slipping his shoes on. “Good luck explaining this to your mom.”

“Bye, Jay.”

The door shut behind him, leaving the apartment in silence again.

Sunghoon leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. For the first time all day, the smug mask dropped. His expression softened—uncertain, almost nervous.

He wasn’t scared of much, but right now? He was terrified of two things.

That his parents wouldn’t believe the lie.
And that Jungwon would.

 

---

Beomgyu had his face buried into the couch cushion, hair sticking up like a bird’s nest, groaning so dramatically that Soobin was starting to question if he was actually dying or just being Beomgyu again.
“You’re not dying,” Soobin muttered, stepping over one of Beomgyu’s socks on the floor as he set a glass of water and two painkillers on the coffee table. “You’re hungover.”

“I think I’m dying,” Beomgyu mumbled into the pillow. His voice was hoarse, slurred with exhaustion. “I can feel my brain trying to climb out of my skull. Tell my parents I love them.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll make sure to play your funeral playlist— ‘I’m Too Sexy,’ right?”

Beomgyu turned his head just enough to glare at Soobin, one bloodshot eye barely open. “You’re making fun of a man on his deathbed.”

Soobin bit back a smile, sitting down on the edge of the couch. “Drink. You need water, not dramatics.”

Beomgyu didn’t move. “Feed it to me.”

Soobin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You have two hands, Beomgyu.”

“I can’t move,” he whined, voice muffled again. “Everything hurts. My bones are singing.”

“Your bones aren’t singing.”

“They’re humming, then.”

Soobin rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lips twitched upward. “You’re impossible.” Still, he picked up the glass, leaning over slightly to help Beomgyu take a sip. The latter grinned lazily afterward, looking entirely too pleased for someone who had just been half-dead.

“You’re so nice to me,” Beomgyu said softly.

“Yeah, and I regret it every time.”

Beomgyu ignored him, shifting slightly and immediately regretting it when his head spun. “I hate alcohol.”

“No, you don’t,” Soobin said, standing up to grab a blanket from the back of the couch. “You just hate the consequences.”

When he came back, Beomgyu had rolled onto his side, squinting at Soobin through messy strands of hair. “Why do you look so clean and put-together? Didn’t you drink too?”

“I have self-control,” Soobin replied, draping the blanket over him. “Unlike you.”

Beomgyu pouted, grabbing the corner of the blanket to pull it higher. “You’re mean when I’m weak.”

“You’re needy when you’re weak.”

“So what if I am?”

The words came out a bit too honest, and Soobin blinked. Beomgyu stared at him, cheeks flushed—part hangover, part something else.

“You’re ridiculous,” Soobin said, voice lower now.

Beomgyu just hummed. “C’mere.”

“No.”

“C’mere.”

“Beomgyu—”

“Choi Soobin, get over here before I cry.”

Soobin groaned but eventually gave in, settling down beside him on the couch. Beomgyu immediately shifted closer, draping an arm over his chest and burying his face into the taller boy’s shoulder.

“You smell nice,” he muttered.

“I took a shower. You should try it sometime.”

“Mean,” Beomgyu mumbled again, his breath warm against Soobin’s skin. “You secretly like this though.”

Soobin froze, about to retort, but Beomgyu nuzzled closer before he could say anything. The contact was gentle, almost childlike, but it made something in Soobin’s chest soften in a way he didn’t want to admit.

“I hate you,” Soobin whispered eventually.

“Love you too,” Beomgyu said, already half-asleep.

Soobin sighed, his hand hesitating before finding Beomgyu’s hair. He brushed it back carefully, thumb tracing along his temple. “You’re such a handful.”

From under the blanket came a tired, content hum. “Your handful, though.”

Soobin’s lips twitched into a smile despite himself. “Yeah,” he murmured quietly. “My handful.”

 

---

Jungwon’s phone buzzed against the counter while he was half-heartedly drying dishes. He glanced at the screen, expecting a notification from the group chat, but froze when he saw the caller ID: Jisung.

He hesitated for half a second before swiping to answer. “Uh… hello?”

“Jungwon,” came Jisung’s voice—loud, hoarse, and panicked. “I think I’m dying.”

Jungwon blinked. “Good evening to you too.”

Sunoo, sitting on the couch behind him, perked up at the tone. “Who’s dying?”

“Jisung,” Jungwon mouthed before putting the phone on speaker. “What’s wrong?”

“I just woke up,” Jisung said, words tumbling out too fast for someone who had supposedly just woken up. “And my head feels like a war crime, my throat is sandpaper, and I have—oh my god—bruises on my neck. And my hips. And my thighs. Jungwon, what did I do last night?”

Sunoo slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes sparkling with the most unholy glee.

Jungwon pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t… know? You were—uh—kinda busy being drunk, remember? I left before the party ended.”

“Busy being drunk? That’s not helpful!” Jisung hissed. “What kind of drunk am I, Jungwon? The karaoke kind? The emotional kind? The—”

“The… handsy kind?” Sunoo suggested sweetly, leaning close enough for his voice to carry through the phone.

There was a pause. A deadly one. Then—

“WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?”

Jungwon smacked Sunoo with a dish towel, but he was too busy laughing to stop. “It means maybe you should check who you were with,” Jungwon said carefully. “You don’t remember anything?”

Jisung groaned. “There’s flashes—hot tub, yelling, maybe a fight? And—oh no.” He stopped. “Minho. Minho was there.”

Jungwon froze. So did Sunoo. Their heads turned slowly toward each other.

“No way,” Sunoo whispered, grinning like he’d just been handed front-row seats to the best drama in town.

“Oh my god,” Jisung muttered on the line, clearly spiraling. “Do you think I—? No, no, no. I feel like we're supposed to hate each other. He hates me. I think. I mean, maybe not—oh my god, I think he bit me.”

Sunoo choked on his own laugh. Jungwon slapped the counter to keep from cracking up completely. “You’re serious?”

“There are teeth marks, Jungwon!”

Jungwon pressed his lips together, fighting to sound sympathetic. “Okay, um—maybe you should talk to him?”

“Talk to him?” Jisung repeated in disbelief. “And say what? ‘Hey, remember when we made out in a hot tub while the world spun like a blender?’”

“That’s one way to start,” Sunoo said helpfully, earning another smack from Jungwon.

Jisung groaned again, a long, drawn-out sound of pure agony. “I can’t do this. I can’t even look at him. I’m changing schools. No—countries.”

“Relax,” Jungwon said, finally laughing. “It’s not that deep. Everyone was drunk. I’m sure he won’t even remember either.”

A silence followed.

Then Jisung said, voice quiet and horrified, “He texted me this morning.”

Both Jungwon and Sunoo shot upright.

“What’d he say?” Sunoo asked, leaning over the counter like it was a movie cliffhanger.

“…‘You left your towel.’”

Jungwon blinked. “That’s… actually not bad.”

“That’s foreplay!” Jisung wailed. “Oh my god, I’m never drinking again.”

Sunoo wheezed into his sleeve, laughing so hard he nearly fell off the couch. “Please record the next time you two interact.”

“Not funny!” Jisung snapped, but Jungwon could hear the mortified smile behind his tone. “I’m hanging up. If I die of embarrassment, you’re both invited to my funeral.”

Click.

The call ended. Silence stretched for a beat before Sunoo erupted into another fit of giggles.

“Minho and Jisung,” he said between laughs, clutching his stomach. “Who saw that coming?”

Jungwon leaned against the counter, shaking his head but smiling despite himself. “Definitely not Jisung.”

“Or Minho,” Sunoo added with a mischievous grin. “Guess everyone’s full of surprises lately.”

Jungwon rolled his eyes, half amused, half exasperated, and reached for the dish towel again. “Yeah, no kidding.”

He went back to drying dishes, letting the faint hum of the evening fill the space between them. Sunoo was still chuckling quietly to himself, replaying every detail of the call in his mind, probably crafting a dozen jokes he’d unleash later.

Then Jungwon’s phone buzzed again.

He almost didn’t check it—he assumed it was Jisung’s second meltdown—but the name on the screen made his heart skip.

Sunghoon 🧊

He hesitated before opening it, glancing up to make sure Sunoo was still distracted with his laughter.

> Don’t forget. My parents want us to have dinner next weekend.
Try not to look like you hate me too much.

 

Jungwon stared at the screen, his lips twitching despite himself. A small, involuntary smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—one he quickly hid behind his hand.

Sunoo looked up mid-laugh. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jungwon said quickly, locking his phone and tossing it onto the counter like it was nothing more than spam mail. “Just, uh… Jisung again.”

Sunoo hummed, unconvinced but too lazy to press further.

Jungwon turned back toward the sink, that secret smile still flickering, faint but undeniable.

Somewhere between the teasing, the fake relationship, and the chaos of their friends, he was starting to realize that pretending might not be as simple as he thought.

Chapter Text

The hallway was alive with noise — shoes squeaking across the polished floor, lockers slamming shut, someone laughing too loud near the stairwell. Typical Thursday chaos.

Jungwon was leaning against his locker, scrolling through his phone as he waited for Sunoo to finish grabbing a book from the other end of the hallway. He’d almost made it through half a text when the air beside him shifted — that telltale mix of expensive cologne and confidence sliding into his space.

He didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“Hey, babe.”

The voice was low, smooth, too casual for the kind of chaos it caused. Jungwon froze mid-scroll, thumb hovering over his screen as heads began to turn down the hallway.

“Don’t call me that here,” he muttered, shoving his phone into his pocket and giving Sunghoon a side-eye glare.

“Why not?” Sunghoon leaned a hand against the locker beside Jungwon’s head, posture annoyingly casual, like he’d been born to flirt against metal. “You said we have to sell this, remember?”

“Yeah, but there’s a difference between selling it and—” Jungwon gestured vaguely between them, “—whatever this is.”

Sunghoon smirked, eyes glinting. “Whatever this is, is working.”

Jungwon opened his mouth to argue, but a pair of girls passed by, whispering behind their hands, and he immediately shut it again. Great. Exactly what they needed — another round of hallway gossip.

“Dinner’s Saturday,” Sunghoon said quietly, ignoring the stares. “Wear something semi-formal. A white button-up maybe. You’ll look good in that.”

Jungwon blinked. “You could’ve texted that.”

“Could’ve.” Sunghoon’s smirk didn’t waver. “But I wanted to tell you in person.”

“Why?”

“Because I like watching you get flustered.”

Jungwon’s face heated instantly. “You’re such a pain.”

“That's just a part of my charm.”

“Charm implies people like you,” Jungwon muttered, crossing his arms.

“Please.” Sunghoon tilted his head. “You like me.”

“In your dreams.”

“Hmm. You keep saying that like you actually know what I dream about.”

That earned him a sharp glare and a half-step back, but Sunghoon only leaned closer, grin widening as whispers rippled further down the hallway. It was cruel, how easily he handled the attention — like he thrived under it — while Jungwon wanted to melt into the floor.

“You’re supposed to act like you want to be near me,” Sunghoon murmured, voice dropping just enough that only Jungwon could hear. “Not like I’m torturing you.”

“You are torturing me.”

Sunghoon chuckled under his breath, eyes flicking down briefly — too briefly — before meeting Jungwon’s again. “You’ll thank me when my mom buys our act.”

Jungwon exhaled through his nose. “I doubt that.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“I’m being realistic.”

“You’re being cute.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Why? It’s true.”

Before Jungwon could retort, a group of students passed by, and one of them — a guy from their English class — grinned and said, “You two are like, disgustingly perfect for each other.”

Sunghoon’s brought his hand down from the locker, his grin turning sharp. “Thanks, man.”

Jungwon, however, looked like he wanted to sink into the tiles. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Maybe.”

“Not maybe.”

Sunghoon laughed quietly, the kind of laugh that warmed his tone without softening the teasing. Then he did something that made Jungwon’s pulse spike — he brushed his fingers through the shorter boy’s fringe, tucking a strand out of his face like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn’t.
It absolutely wasn’t.

“Relax,” Sunghoon murmured. “You look nervous. Couples don’t look like they’re being held hostage.”

Jungwon’s voice came out tight. “Maybe because you’re literally cornering me right now.”

“That’s commitment.”

“Or harassment.”

Sunghoon chuckled. “Same thing when it’s for love.”

“Fake love,” Jungwon corrected, though his voice wavered a little.

Sunghoon’s eyes lingered, scanning his face like he was searching for something. “Doesn’t always have to feel fake.”

That hit deeper than it should’ve, and Jungwon’s stomach flipped before he could stop it. He didn’t even get a chance to reply before—

“Jungwon!”

Sunoo’s voice.

Jungwon tried to move, but Sunghoon’s hand slammed against the locker again, keeping him still. Their eyes met.

“I’m not done talking,” Sunghoon said.

Jungwon swallowed. “You were talking about dinner.”

“Yeah.” Sunghoon’s tone was quieter now, more real. “My family can be… intense. You’ll be fine, though.”

“Fine?”

“They’re good people, just… old-fashioned. They might ask questions. Just follow my lead, yeah?”

Jungwon frowned slightly. “Why do you sound worried?”

“Because I know them.” He hesitated for half a second before his grin returned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Don’t overthink it. They’ll like you.”

“Like they liked your last ‘boyfriend’?”

Sunghoon smirked. “I didn’t have one.”

Jungwon blinked. “Wait— what?”

“Congratulations,” he said lightly. “You’re the first.”

The words lingered, heavier than they should’ve been. For a second, Jungwon didn’t know if he was still acting.

Sunghoon leaned closer again, until Jungwon could see the faintest flecks of gold in his brown eyes. “You’re cute when you get nervous, kitten.”

Jungwon’s breath caught. “Stop calling me that.”

“Can’t. It fits you too well.”

He finally pulled away, straightening up and stuffing his hands into his pockets like nothing had just happened. “Remember that I'm picking you up at seven. Don’t make me wait.”

He took a few steps back before glancing over his shoulder with that same half-smile — one that made Jungwon’s stomach twist for reasons he didn’t want to name.

Then he was gone, leaving Jungwon standing there in the middle of the hallway, face warm, heartbeat out of rhythm, and the whole world suddenly too loud.

Sunoo came jogging up seconds later, all grin and energy. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” Jungwon said too fast.

“Didn’t look like nothing.”

“It was fake.”

“Uh-huh.” Sunoo gave him a suspicious once-over, eyes narrowing. “You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.”

“You totally are.”

“Sunoo, drop it.”

“Fine, fine.” He grinned. “Just saying — if this fake thing keeps looking that real, even you might start believing it.”

Jungwon ignored him, spinning his locker combination open again, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him completely.

 

---

 

Chemistry was one of the worst classes to have in the afternoon, and of course the classroom was half-asleep. The air smelled like pencil shavings and cheap perfume, the teacher’s monotone voice blending with the soft hum of the air conditioner. Jungwon sat in the middle row, cheek resting against his palm, staring at the half-filled notes on his tablet. He wasn’t really listening.

He was thinking about Saturday.

About the dinner.

About him.

Sunghoon had been unbothered all week — calm, smooth, even nice sometimes — which only made it worse. Jungwon couldn’t tell when he was joking or actually being serious anymore. Every grin, every small touch when they were “acting” like a couple, every low “hey, kitten” in the hallway when people were around—it all burned behind his ribs.

He wanted to scream. Or maybe just hide under his desk.

Instead, he sighed.

“Don’t tell me you’re sighing over him again,” Sunoo whispered from the next seat, leaning in with that all-knowing look. His nails were painted a soft lilac, perfectly glossy as he twirled his pen between his fingers.

Jungwon didn’t even look up. “No.”

“Lie,” Felix said from behind him, his voice lilting with amusement. He was half-laying on his desk, chin propped up by his palm, freckles dancing under the soft fluorescent light. “You’ve had that look all day.”

“What look?”

“The I can’t believe he looked at me like that look,” Sunoo answered before Felix could. “God, it’s like watching a drama unfold in slow motion.”

Jungwon groaned quietly, slumping further into his seat. “Can you two not?”

“No,” both of them said at once.

The teacher droned on about economic theory from the front of the room, utterly ignored. They were supposed to be taking notes, but Sunoo had his tablet open to Pinterest, scrolling through outfit ideas instead. Felix had his notebook flipped to a page filled with doodles of cats and stars, and Jungwon’s screen hadn’t changed for ten minutes.

Sunoo leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially. “So? You two looked pretty cozy in the hallway earlier.”

Jungwon’s heart did a stupid flip. “We were pretending, Sunoo.”

“Pretending my ass,” Felix murmured. “You had that little shy smile. Don’t even try to deny it.”

“I wasn’t smiling!”

Sunoo arched an eyebrow, smirking. “So you were thinking about smiling.”

Jungwon wanted to smack him with his notebook. “You’re insufferable.”

“Thank you, I try.” Sunoo tilted his head, narrowing his eyes playfully. “Anyway, spill. What did he say? You’ve been weirdly quiet since lunch.”

Jungwon hesitated, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. He knew the moment he told them, he’d never hear the end of it. But keeping it bottled up was eating at him too.

“He—uh—was talking about the dinner,” Jungwon mumbled, staring at the doodles in Felix’s notebook instead of Sunoo’s piercing gaze. “His family thing. He said he’s picking me up and to wear something semi-formal.”

Felix’s eyes brightened instantly. “Ooh, dinner with the in-laws already?”

“It’s fake,” Jungwon hissed.

“Sure it is.” Sunoo was grinning like a cat with a secret. “You said that about his hand holding yours too.”

“That was acting!” Jungwon whispered harshly, aware of the teacher’s occasional glance in their direction.

Felix bit his lip to keep from laughing, shoulders shaking. “Yeah, acting. Totally believable. You guys have more chemistry than half the actual couples here.”

Sunoo nodded sagely. “It’s true. People are starting to ship you two. I saw a TikTok edit this morning with dramatic slow-mo.”

Jungwon’s head whipped toward him. “WHAT?”

Sunoo smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. You looked good.”

“Sunoo!”

Felix covered his mouth, barely suppressing a snort.

“Anyway,” Sunoo continued, twirling a strand of his hair, “tell us what’s actually bothering you. You’ve been all fidgety since yesterday. Don’t say it’s just about the dinner.”

Jungwon didn’t answer right away. His fingers fiddled with his pen, tapping it against the desk rhythmically. He thought about Sunghoon’s smirk, the warmth of his hand at his waist when people walked by, the way his voice dropped when he whispered close.

It wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

But it did.

He swallowed hard. “I think I like him.”

Both Sunoo and Felix froze mid-breath.

The world might as well have stopped turning.

Then, in perfect unison, they exclaimed, “FINALLY!”

Jungwon flinched. “Shhh! Be quiet!”

Half the class turned their heads. The teacher paused, glaring. “Is there a problem?”

“No, ma’am,” Sunoo said sweetly, forcing an angelic smile. The moment she turned back around, he leaned in, whisper-shouting, “Finally! Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to admit that?!”

Felix giggled quietly. “I literally had a bet with Sunoo. I said it’d take another week.”

Sunoo looked smug. “Pay up, Lixie.”

Jungwon buried his face in his arms. “I hate you both.”

“No, you don’t,” Sunoo teased, poking his side. “You love us. Now, tell me everything. When did it hit you?”

“I don’t know,” Jungwon mumbled, voice muffled against his sleeve. “He’s just been… different lately. Less of a jerk. More… I don’t know. Sweet, I guess?”

Felix leaned forward, chin resting on his folded arms. “And?”

“And what?”

“What exactly made you realize it?”

Jungwon hesitated again, heat rising in his cheeks. “When he smiled at me yesterday.”

“Oh my god,” Sunoo whispered dramatically, hand clutching his chest. “You’re down bad for a smile?”

“It wasn’t just a smile!” Jungwon argued weakly. “It was—ugh—he looked at me like—never mind.”

Felix snickered. “Like what?”

“Like I actually meant something.”

That shut them both up for a second.

Sunoo’s teasing grin softened just a bit. “Aw, Jungwon.”

“Don’t ‘aw’ me,” Jungwon muttered, turning redder. “He’s still a jerk. This doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh, it means everything,” Sunoo said, smirk returning. “Especially since you’re meeting his parents.”

“Fake meeting,” Jungwon corrected quickly.

“Yeah, fake feelings too, right?” Felix said slyly.

Jungwon glared at him. “Do you want detention?”

Felix just grinned. “Depends. Are you gonna tell me how you plan to survive Saturday?”

Jungwon sighed, sitting up straight again. “I don’t even know what to wear.”

Sunoo’s eyes immediately lit up like he’d been waiting for that exact sentence. “Say no more.”

“Oh no,” Jungwon groaned. “No, no, no—Sunoo, don’t—”

Sunoo was already flipping open Pinterest again. “White shirt, black pants, minimal accessories. Maybe a bracelet to look casual but classy. We’ll curl your hair—”

“Curl my hair?!”

Felix nodded in agreement. “Yeah, a little wave would look good. You’ll seem softer. Parents eat that up.”

“Eat—what—”

“Also don’t fidget too much,” Sunoo added. “Keep eye contact but not too long or you’ll look like you’re challenging them. Smile when they talk about Sunghoon.”

“Why are you both treating this like I’m meeting my real boyfriend’s family?”

“Because you are,” Felix said innocently. “Sort of.”

“I hate this,” Jungwon muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

Sunoo noticed. “Oh my god, he’s smiling. He’s smiling. Felix, look!”

“Shut up,” Jungwon hissed, covering his mouth with his hand.

Sunoo snorted. “You’re so gone for him.”

“I’m not!”

“Yeah, you are.”

Felix tapped his pen against the desk, thoughtful. “Okay, real talk. What are you gonna do if they expect, like, couple-y stuff? Holding hands, maybe a kiss for show?”

Jungwon froze. His pen slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the floor.

Felix’s grin widened. “Oh, I hit a nerve.”

Sunoo smirked. “That’s a good point, though. You two are supposed to look convincing.”

Jungwon’s voice cracked. “Kiss? As in—actual—kiss?”

Felix shrugged casually. “Wouldn’t be shocking. Families love that ‘aww, young love’ thing.”

Jungwon’s pulse spiked. “I can’t—what if—oh my god—what if he tries to—”

Sunoo burst into quiet laughter. “You’re so dramatic. Relax. If he does, just go with it.”

“Go with it?!”

“Yeah,” Sunoo said, shrugging. “It’s for the act, right? Totally harmless.”

“Totally,” Felix echoed, grinning.

Jungwon covered his face, groaning. “This is a nightmare.”

“It’s a romantic comedy,” Sunoo corrected. “The main character’s just in denial.”

The bell rang before Jungwon could respond, a shrill sound cutting through the low hum of chatter. Everyone started packing up, the teacher reminding them about some assignment that no one was going to remember.

Sunoo stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Okay, we’re meeting at your place Saturday before the dinner. Felix and I will help you get ready.”

“Help me or torture me?” Jungwon asked dryly.

“Both,” Sunoo said without hesitation.

Felix winked. “We’ll make sure you look irresistible.”

Jungwon groaned. “Please don’t say things like that.”

“What? Sunghoon’s gotta believe the act too,” Felix teased.

Sunoo gasped theatrically. “Oh my god. What if this fake relationship turns real? Imagine how iconic that’d be!”

“Yeah, iconic,” Jungwon muttered, but his face betrayed him. He was smiling again—small, soft, and nervous.

Sunoo nudged his shoulder as they left the classroom. “You can pretend all you want, but I see it. You like him, and he definitely likes you back.”

Jungwon blinked. “He doesn’t.”

“Oh, he does,” Felix said confidently. “He looks at you like you’re the only person who exists.”

Jungwon laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You guys are reading too much into it.”

“Or you’re reading too little,” Sunoo said knowingly.

Jungwon didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Because part of him—the quiet, fluttery part buried deep—hoped maybe they were right.

As they walked out into the hallway, the afternoon light spilling through the windows, Felix slung an arm around his shoulders. “Don’t stress too much, yeah? You’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” Jungwon said softly, almost to himself. “I hope so.”

He didn’t tell them that later that night, when his phone buzzed and he saw Sunghoon’s name pop up with a short, teasing message—

> Don’t forget, kitten. Semi-formal means no hoodies.
I’ll pick you up at seven.

 

—he smiled.

Just a little.

And then immediately locked his screen so Sunoo wouldn’t see.

 

---

By the time Saturday rolled around, Jungwon’s apartment looked like the aftermath of a fashion tornado. Shirts, ties, and jackets were strewn across the bed, the floor, and somehow even the lampshade.

“I look like I’m going to a job interview,” Jungwon muttered, frowning at his reflection. He’d been staring at the same mirror for twenty minutes, alternating between panic and self-loathing. His white button-up was crisp, tucked neatly into black dress pants, and his blonde hair was softly curled the way Sunoo insisted made him look “expensively innocent.”

“You look hot,” Felix said casually from where he was sprawled across the bed, scrolling through his phone.

“I look stupid.”

“You look like you’re about to steal someone’s son,” Sunoo corrected, leaning in the doorway with a hairbrush in hand. “Which, considering tonight’s goal, isn’t that far off.”

Jungwon groaned, rubbing his temples. “You’re not helping.”

“I’m helping your confidence,” Sunoo replied, tossing the brush onto the dresser. “Now stop fidgeting before I tape your hands to your sides.”

Felix hummed. “Are you sure this isn’t, like, a setup? Maybe Sunghoon just wants to show you off.”

“Why would he—” Jungwon cut himself off before he could sound too hopeful. “No. It’s just for his family. Fake boyfriend. That’s it.”

“Right,” Sunoo said, clearly unconvinced. “Because people totally ask their fake boyfriends to meet the parents.”

Jungwon shot him a look. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Sunoo grinned. “I’ve waited months for you to admit your crush, and now you’re going to dinner with him. The universe is finally paying me back.”

Felix rolled onto his side, resting his head on his hand. “So what exactly did he say again? Like, word for word.”

Jungwon exhaled through his nose, trying not to smile. “He said his parents were trying to set him up with some girl, and he needed someone to act as his boyfriend so they’d stop. That’s it.”

“That’s not it,” Sunoo said immediately. “Did you see the way he looked at you when he asked? Boy looked like he was auditioning for a romance drama.”

Jungwon shook his head, cheeks warming. “He was drunk.”

“Drunk truth is still truth,” Felix said with a teasing smirk.

Sunoo flopped dramatically onto the bed beside Felix. “Anyway, we need to make sure you’re prepared. Family dinners are all about impression management.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”

“I’ve watched a lot of dramas,” Sunoo said proudly. “Same thing.”

Felix snorted. “Okay, rule number one: no slouching. You’ve got good posture—use it.”

“Rule number two,” Sunoo added, sitting up. “Smile, but not too much. You don’t wanna look like you’re selling insurance.”

“Rule number three,” Felix said, wagging his finger. “Compliment his mom a bunch, she'll love you.”

“Rule number four,” Sunoo chimed in, grinning wickedly. “If his parents ask how you two met, don’t say ‘by accident.’ Say something cute. Like, ‘he bumped into me in the hallway and I spilled coffee on him.’ Romanticize the trauma.”

“Sunoo—”

“And rule number five,” Felix interrupted, “if they ask how long you’ve been dating, make sure your answers match.”

Jungwon groaned again, slumping into the nearest chair. “This is going to be a disaster.”

Sunoo crouched in front of him, patting his knee. “No, it’s going to be fine. You’ll charm the parents, eat some expensive food, and pretend you don’t want to kiss your fake boyfriend. Easy.”

Jungwon stared at him. “You’re really bad at comfort.”

“I’m honest.”

Felix giggled softly. “Hey, at least you look amazing. Seriously, Jungwon—you’re pulling the ‘boyfriend material’ thing off better than half the school could dream of.”

That earned a tiny, reluctant smile. “Thanks.”

Sunoo leaned forward, squinting at his face. “Wait—hold still.” He grabbed the curling iron again and brushed a strand of blonde hair back into place. “There. Perfect. You look like someone’s weakness.”

“Whose?”

“Obviously Sunghoon’s.”

“Sunoo.”

“What? I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.”

Jungwon pressed his lips together, fighting another smile. His stomach was still twisting itself into anxious knots, but beneath it all was this… fluttery warmth he couldn’t shake.

He’d been replaying every second of the week in his head — every teasing look, every quiet moment between them that felt too real for an act. Sunghoon could be irritating, cocky, infuriating — and yet, when he’d said, ‘I’ll pick you up at seven,’ Jungwon had caught himself smiling like an idiot.

Sunoo noticed, of course. He always did.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Sunoo said suddenly.

“What thing?”

“The lovesick stare into the void thing.”

“I’m not—”

“You totally are.”

Felix snorted. “He so is.”

Jungwon grabbed a throw pillow and tossed it at both of them. “You two are the worst.”

“Yeah, but we’re right,” Sunoo said, fluffing his hair. “Anyway, it’s almost seven. He’s probably on his way.”

Jungwon’s heart dropped. “Oh god.”

“Relax,” Felix said gently. “Just breathe. You’ve got this.”

Sunoo gave him a mock salute. “And remember — if all else fails, flirt your way through it.”

“Not happening.”

“Your loss,” Sunoo sang.

A knock echoed through the apartment before Jungwon could respond. The three of them froze.

“Oh my god,” Jungwon whispered. “He’s here.”

Felix grinned. “Showtime.”

Sunoo jumped up and adjusted Jungwon’s collar with a smug smile. “Go on, lover boy. Try not to pass out.”

“Sunoo—”

“Shh. Be cool. We'll be here when you get back.”

With one last deep breath, Jungwon forced his feet to move toward the door. His heart was hammering so hard he could feel it in his throat.

When he opened it, Sunghoon stood there — breathtaking in a dark button-up, hair perfectly styled, one hand casually in his pocket. His lips curved into that faint, annoyingly confident smile.

“Hey,” Sunghoon said, eyes flicking down Jungwon’s outfit before meeting his gaze again. “You clean up nice, kitten.”

Jungwon’s breath caught. “Don’t call me that.”

“Can’t help it,” Sunghoon said smoothly. “You look too good to resist.”

Sunoo and Felix’s muffled laughter from the other room didn’t help his composure.

Jungwon scowled lightly, grabbing his jacket to hide the way his face heated. “Let’s just go.”

Sunghoon’s grin widened as he stepped aside. “After you.”

Jungwon slipped past him, trying not to notice how his pulse jumped when their shoulders brushed.

Sunghoon leaned down just enough to murmur, “Don’t be nervous. You’ll be fine.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“Sure you aren’t.”

As the door shut behind them, Sunoo whispered loudly to Felix, “He’s so whipped.”

Felix laughed. “Both of them are.”

And honestly… they weren’t wrong.

 

---

Perfect — here’s Part 4, starting right as they arrive at the restaurant.

 

---

[Chapter 7 – Part 4]

The drive there had been quiet — not tense, but charged, like the air before a storm. Sunghoon had one hand lazily on the wheel, the other resting near the gear shift, close enough that Jungwon kept glancing at it and then immediately looking away.

Now, as they stepped out of the car in front of the restaurant, Jungwon realized fancy had been an understatement. The place was the kind of elegant that made you straighten your posture instinctively — all tall glass windows, warm gold lighting, and valet attendants in sleek uniforms.

Jungwon adjusted his collar nervously, his reflection catching in the window. “You didn’t say it’d be this fancy.”

Sunghoon’s lips twitched. “Would it have changed anything?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s a good thing I didn’t.”

He offered Jungwon his hand with mock formality. “Shall we, darling?”

“Stop it,” Jungwon hissed, but he still took his hand when Sunghoon tugged lightly. His fingers were warm. Annoyingly warm.

Inside, the low hum of conversation and soft jazz filled the air. Tables were set with white linens, candles flickering in delicate holders. The host smiled as soon as Sunghoon gave his name — clearly recognizing him.

“Your family has already arrived, Mr. Park,” the host said. “Right this way.”

Jungwon’s stomach twisted as they followed through the maze of tables. He could already feel curious eyes on them — a mix of curiosity and recognition. Sunghoon’s family was well-known, after all. Wealthy, respected, old-money polished.

They reached the table, and Jungwon barely had time to take a breath before he was face-to-face with them.

Sunghoon’s parents looked exactly as intimidating as he’d expected — his father crisp in a navy suit, his mother effortlessly elegant, her smile sharp and assessing. Across from them sat a girl around Jungwon’s age, pretty and poised, who smiled a little too sweetly when she saw Sunghoon.

Sunghoon leaned closer to Jungwon, his voice dropping low. “That’s the one my parents were trying to set me up with.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry,” Sunghoon added with a teasing smirk, “you’re much cuter.”

Jungwon’s elbow found his ribs immediately. “Behave.”

Sunghoon grinned, rubbing his side as they approached the table. “Mom, Dad — this is Jungwon.”

Mrs. Park’s smile didn’t falter, though her eyes flickered quickly from Jungwon’s face to their joined hands. “Ah, the famous boyfriend we’ve heard about.”

Jungwon bowed politely. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Park. Mr. Park.”

“Such manners,” Mr. Park said, tone unreadable. “Please, sit.”

They did. Jungwon could practically feel the tension vibrating beneath the tablecloth. The girl — apparently Yura — smiled again, tilting her head. “So, you’re the one who stole Sunghoon away.”

Jungwon froze for a second, unsure if she was joking, but Sunghoon answered easily, his hand brushing Jungwon’s under the table. “I wouldn’t say stole,” he said smoothly. “More like… he made it impossible to look at anyone else.”

Jungwon nearly choked on air. He could feel his ears burning, but somehow managed to keep a straight face.

Mrs. Park chuckled softly. “You’ve always had a flair for dramatics, Sunghoon.”

“Guess I get it from you,” he replied without missing a beat.

Jungwon wanted to disappear into his napkin.

The waiter arrived, giving him a merciful moment to breathe as everyone ordered. Once he left, conversation resumed — polite, measured, and mildly terrifying.

“So, Jungwon,” Mrs. Park said, eyes sharp but not unkind. “How did you two meet?”

Sunghoon opened his mouth, but Jungwon beat him to it. “At school,” he said quickly, remembering Sunoo’s advice. “I, uh… accidentally spilled coffee on him. Twice.”

Mrs. Park’s brows lifted in amusement. “Twice?”

Sunghoon chuckled. “He says it was an accident. I still think he was flirting.”

“I was not,” Jungwon muttered under his breath.

Mr. Park’s mouth curved, just slightly. “And how long have you two been together?”

“About three months,” Sunghoon said smoothly, right as Jungwon said, “Two.”

There was a beat of silence before Mrs. Park laughed lightly. “Ah, young love. Time moves differently, doesn’t it?”

Jungwon forced a smile, his foot tapping anxiously beneath the table. Sunghoon, of course, looked completely at ease — charming, confident, borderline insufferable.

But then, every once in a while, he’d glance at Jungwon — not the teasing, smug kind of look he gave in public, but something softer. And it made Jungwon’s chest tighten in ways he didn’t want to think about.

Dinner continued in waves of small talk — academics, hobbies, vague discussions of the future. Yura tried several times to steer the conversation toward Sunghoon, but every time she did, he found a way to redirect it to Jungwon.

“Jungwon actually helps me with some of my assignments,” he said at one point. “He’s annoyingly good at math.”

“I’m not annoyingly good—”

“Yes, you are.”

Mrs. Park smiled, seemingly entertained. “It’s nice to see you with someone who keeps you grounded, Sunghoon.”

For the first time that evening, Sunghoon looked a little flustered. “Yeah,” he said, glancing at Jungwon again. “He does.”

Jungwon had to look away, heart pounding.

The meal ended with dessert — delicate slices of cake and tea poured into fragile china. By then, the atmosphere had eased slightly. Even Mr. Park had cracked a smile once or twice.

When they finally stood to leave, Mrs. Park touched Jungwon’s arm lightly. “You’re very sweet,” she said. “I can see why he likes you.”

Jungwon blinked, unsure how to respond. “Th-thank you, ma’am.”

Sunghoon’s grin lingered long after they left the restaurant, both of them walking down the quiet street toward his car.

“You did great,” he said, voice lower now, softer.

“I almost told your dad you were a pain in the ass,” Jungwon muttered.

“Would’ve made me sound authentic.”

Jungwon gave him a sideways look. “You’re like…insanely annoying.”

Sunghoon chuckled, unlocking the car. “Maybe. But you like me that way.”

“Keep dreaming.”

He slid into the passenger seat, arms crossed, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

As they pulled away from the glowing restaurant lights, Sunghoon’s hand brushed Jungwon’s again — light, fleeting, deliberate.

Jungwon didn’t move it.

Neither of them said a word, but the air between them buzzed — not with the fake act they’d rehearsed, but with something much harder to pretend.

Something that felt dangerously close to real.

 

---

The drive back was quieter than the ride there, though every so often, Sunghoon’s hand would brush against Jungwon’s knee, just for a second, testing the waters. Jungwon’s stomach flipped each time, and he kept shifting in his seat to make it seem unintentional.

When they finally pulled up outside Jungwon’s building, Sunghoon parked and turned to face him. “So… dinner survived?”

Jungwon swallowed nervously, nodding. “Yeah, fine.”

Sunghoon’s gaze lingered, and for a moment, everything around them — the streetlights, the quiet hum of passing cars, the faint scent of his cologne — seemed to vanish. He leaned in just slightly, close enough that Jungwon could feel his breath. Jungwon’s heart practically slammed against his ribs, frozen.

Then Sunghoon’s phone buzzed on the dashboard, a reminder of the outside world. He straightened up, smirked, and said, “Guess we’ll save the rest for next time, kitten.”

Jungwon’s mouth went dry, heat rushing to his cheeks. “Next time… right,” he managed, fumbling out of the car as Sunghoon opened the door for him.

He didn’t even look back as he climbed the steps to his apartment, but inside, his heart was still racing.

 

---

Jungwon quietly opened his door, expecting the apartment to be empty — but instead, Felix and Sunoo were sitting cross-legged on the floor of his room, snacks and notebooks sprawled between them.

“There he is!” Sunoo exclaimed. “So, tell us everything!”

“Uh… what do you mean?” Jungwon tried to feign innocence, but the way Felix and Sunoo were grinning at him gave him away immediately.

“The almost-kiss,” Felix said, leaning forward. “We saw you guys outside the car. Every detail, Jungwon. Did he lean in? Did your lips—”

“Felix!” Jungwon groaned, throwing himself onto his bed. “Stop, stop. You’re going to make me die of embarrassment.”

Sunoo clapped her hands gleefully. “No, this is perfect. Spill!”

Jungwon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, fine. We parked. We were… talking. And then — I don’t know, it just got really… close. And he leaned in, like, really close. And I—”

“You what?!” Sunoo practically jumped on the bed, making Jungwon flinch.

“I didn’t—” Jungwon began, then groaned. “I didn’t do anything, okay? We didn’t kiss, but it was… close.”

“Close?!” Felix’s eyes practically glimmered. “Jungwon, close is basically a pre-kiss. You have to tell us everything — the angle of his face, his expression, your expression—”

“I can’t!” Jungwon shouted, throwing a pillow over his face. “I am not a storybook character for you two to dissect!”

Sunoo giggled, yanking the pillow away. “Come on, Wonie, don’t hide from us. You have to tell us what it felt like.”

Jungwon froze. “It… felt…” He swallowed hard. “… weird. Good weird. Nervous weird. Like… my heart is broken but happy at the same time?”

Felix gasped. “Oh my God. Jungwon, that’s—”

“Shut up, Felix!” Jungwon groaned, burying his face in his hands.

Sunoo, however, refused to let him off the hook. “Come on, we saw you. You have to tell us everything. Did he say anything? Did he whisper anything? Did he—”

“He said ‘next time,’ okay?!” Jungwon snapped, cheeks burning, his hair sticking up at awkward angles from running his hands through it.

Felix and Sunoo exchanged a look, both trying not to laugh at him.

“‘Next time,’” Sunoo repeated, teasingly slow. “And you didn’t kiss him?”

“I TOLD YOU, NO!” Jungwon shouted, flopping dramatically onto his bed. “I’m not some swooning idiot who lets him do whatever he wants!”

Felix smirked. “Sure, sure, that’s exactly what you are. Admit it — your heart was racing.”

“It was not racing!” Jungwon argued, but even he couldn’t quite hide the quickening of his pulse at the memory.

Sunoo grinned triumphantly. “Oh, it was so racing, don’t even try to deny it.”

Jungwon buried his face deeper into his pillow, muttering under his breath. “I hate you two…”

“Love us, more like it,” Felix teased, tossing a cushion at him.

Despite himself, Jungwon let out a small laugh, muffled through the pillow. Sunoo hopped onto the bed next to him, nudging his side.

“So,” she said, eyes glinting with mischief, “when’s the next time?”

Jungwon groaned again, but he didn’t answer.

Felix leaned back against the headboard, smirking knowingly. “Oh, I think we’ll all be finding that out very soon. And we will be there, taking notes.”

Sunoo nodded. “Every single moment, Jungwon. You can’t hide from us now.”

Jungwon peeked through his fingers at them, groaning, cheeks hot. “You’re impossible.”

“And you secretly love it,” Sunoo added, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Shut up,” Jungwon said, rolling over dramatically, but the small, involuntary smile tugging at his lips betrayed him entirely.