Archive of Our Own

Kim Yohan enters stage right. 

"So, like, maybe I did a thing, but also maybe I swerved a life-threatening situation with my last-minute genius in the process," Yohan announces after he's let himself into Hangyul's officetel, tossing his sweaty gym bag onto Hangyul's bed as a true testament to how great of a friend he is.

Hangyul gives him a Look(TM) that, maybe to anyone else, could be borderline intimidating, but Yohan's mastered the art of willful blindness. He's immune now.  

"You didn't," Hangyul presses, clearly doubtful. "Are you serious? You really challenged Bomi noona to a match—"

"What?" Yohan flops over onto the bed next to his, okay, it really does smell like shit, gym bag. "No, what the—no! I'm not that stupid." 

Hangyul gives him a different Look(TM). It's offensively incredulous, frankly.

"No, I, uh." 

Where should he even start? Just this morning, he'd gotten off the phone—right before practice—with his mom. He'd been swept away, like always, in a hurricane of her current events. Their schedules never match up these days. Yohan's always out of the house early, back home late. He barely sees his family and he lives with them.

She updates him on what's going down in her book club these days. Last week, Mrs. Park had been quite the b-word about e-books, and really, she needs to get with the times, don't you agree, Yohan? She spends a whole fifteen minutes going the fuck off about how ridiculous his dad's been about trying out this wack new ketogenic diet that everyone in Hollywood's subsisting on, which would explain why there is literally no bread anywhere to be found in the apartment. Who does he think he is, mom demands. Brangelina Jolie? And he doesn't really have the heart to correct her, because maybe she's right. (Mom's always right.) Then she finishes it off, as always, with a one-thousand-words-per-second offer to set her dearest favorite (and only) son up with a nice girl from church

Except Yohan doesn't want to date a nice girl from church. Never does, actually. Not that he has anything against nice girls, or church, or nice girls from church, but he does have a thing (a complex of sorts) against... about dating when his entire life is consumed by taekwondo and his feeble attempts at Not Failing his corporate finance class (which, as it stands, is not going swimmingly). There's the whole Cr*sh debacle too. But overall, he's just not interested, and his mother's insistence grows tenfold with each phone call, which is probably why—in the spur of the moment—Yohan decides he's going to be #controversial (not really) (he's too vanilla for controversy).

(Also because he's such a god damn mama's boy, and he doesn't want to tell his mom straight-up to stop meddling in his business because he'd feel her heartbreak all the way on campus and he's way too weak to carry on with that guilt.) 

"I told my mom I'm dating someone," he explains, clearing his throat once because for some reason, now that he's said it out loud, it seems a lot worse of an idea than it did in the morning. 

"Like," Hangyul starts, looking reasonably confused. "Like a real person," he states. 

"Yeah? Yes? A human. I'm—of course I'm dating a human. What the hell else would I date?" 

"I don't know, dude. You could fuck an alien. I'd respect that. Area 51 and—" Hangyul catches himself digressing. He's good at that. Yohan, not so much. Yohan likes to ramble when he's panicking. (Once, during year one, when he was getting absolutely shit-faced at a barbecue restaurant with some of the students in his major—and some of the upperclassmen—he'd sauntered right up to Han Seungwoo and spent fifteen minutes too long rambling about how much he liked Seungwoo's airplane nose. Fuck Hypotenuse, he doesn't know shit compared to your nose, hyung! Seungwoo, to Yohan's memory, had very kindly offered to call him a cab home.) "Okay, anyway. You're dating a human and not E.T. and you didn't tell me? Wow. That kind of stings, dude. Might have to write you out of my screenplay."

Hangyul is taking an intro to screenwriting class to fulfill a writing requirement he forgot about. All of his threats as of late have been loosely or very distinctly related to the clearly-plagiarized-from-Star-Wars screenplay he's been working on the past semester. The last time Seungyoun tried to ask if the main character named 'Hangyul Duo' was supposed to be a knock-off version of Han Solo, Hangyul spent three days giving him the silent treatment. 

"I'm not actually dating someone," Yohan continues. "I just wanted her to back off a little bit, you know? So I..." 

Hangyul twirls once in his swivel chair, like he's expecting to hear something that's going to make his day.

"So I told her I'm dating someone," says Yohan. He clears his throat again. Haha, allergies. Definitely not the fact that this might have been a terrible idea settling into his system too belatedly and making his throat close up in a nervous reaction. "And the someone is... Wooseok hyung?"

Absolute silence. 

And then Hangyul's expression starts to break into one of absolute glee. And then he's doubled over in laughter. Literally wheezing at some point, and Yohan almost wants to laugh too (herd mentality), but he has no idea what's so funny about the fact that he's—

Oh. 

Oh wait. Oh shit. 

"Oh shit," Yohan mutters. 

"Oh shit is right," Hangyul echoes, voice strangled with laughter. He wipes an invisible tear from his eye for dramatics. Upon closer look, he might literally be crying. "You thought your best bet was your next-door neighbor? The hyung you've known since you were five and still wet the bed? The guy whose mom is your mom's best friend? Wooseok hyung, who you've been pining after for what feels like my entire life?" 

"Oh," Yohan says. It is a weighted oh, a very significant OH. "Oh fuck." 

Wooseok was the first to come to mind because Wooseok is literally always on Yohan's mind. Which sounds creepy and weird, he's sure, but it's in the most harmless way possible. It's because Yohan maybe has a cr*sh on Wooseok and has maybe had a cr*sh on Wooseok since he was twelve (though he only came to the realization last year during finals season while on the verge of tears about his economics final in the library) (and it's still a sensitive topic, sort of, which is why he likes to censor it excessively in his mind). He's been pretty good at writing off his overflow of affections as Big Puppy Energy, mostly because Wooseok is out of his league and also Yohan would be devastated if he made their relationship weird in any way, shape, or form. 

Which is funny, because he's definitely just made their relationship weird in some way, shape, and form. Perhaps in all ways, shapes, and forms. 

He'd thought, maybe haphazardly, that at the very least, if it was Wooseok, his mom might not ask questions. And maybe he and Wooseok could have a laugh about it, and—

"She's going to—oh my god. She's going to call Wooseok hyung's mom. Oh my god, oh my fucking god, dude, I'm toast." He's scrambling for his phone now, scrolling through his most recent calls in a desperate rush to call his mom and tell her he's just gone through a terrible break-up or something. 

"This is the best thing ever," Hangyul insists, steepling his hands and closing his eyes, a content smile on his face. He leans back in his chair. "I'm changing my screenplay. I'll call it—" He opens his eyes, pans a hand across the open space in front of him. "Yohan's Dumb as Fuck."

Any other day and he might have thrown something at Hangyul, but right in this moment, Yohan thinks he might agree. 

God. 

His phone vibrates. A feeling of dread pools in his stomach. A single text notification floats to the center of the screen. It's Wooseok, asking where Yohan is. 

God.

"Kill me," Yohan begs. 

Hangyul grins wickedly. "Nah, your boyfriend would be heartbroken." 

Yohan realizes he's maybe kind of sort of definitely in love with Wooseok probably during peak finals season of year one, first semester. 

It's after their Airpods get mixed up and Wooseok probably listens to a whole twenty seconds of Yohan's SAD VIBEZ :((((( Taylor Swift playlist and doesn't say a thing about how Yohan's high-key a basic bitch at heart. Or maybe it's after Wooseok looks Yohan in the eye with an unfair smile and says, "Nice heelies," in the summer before Yohan's second year of university. It's probably after Wooseok laughs two seconds later, eyes crinkling, way too close, Yohan-ah trailing off his tongue like a god damn song, Yohan's stupid grown-ass heart racing like he's sixteen again and too busy trying look cool in his ugly high school uniform to dwell on how absolutely gay he is for his next-door neighbor.

(His heelies were super fucking expensive too, and he's kind of pissed, in retrospect, that he tripped over his own feet and snapped off a wheel in a panic that day.)

It's after all of that and more that Yohan thinks, distantly, that this might be the start of a terrible rom-com where he doesn't get the guy.

(NETFLIX ORIGINAL: Local dumb jock (played by Kim Yohan) falls in love with picture-perfect next-door neighbor since forever who is way out of his league (played by Michael B. Jordan, or someone equally hot—okay, fine, it's Kim Wooseok, whatever, this is an autobiography and he hates it). What happens next will probably make you feel better about your own love life.)

F.

Okay. So maybe the best person to pretend to fake-date was not, contrary to popular belief, the exact person Yohan's been uselessly pining after for Too Long.

And maybe now that the situation has escalated to a degree well out of Yohan's hands, it's high time to either drop out of university and move out of Seoul, or time to grow up and face the truth.

Or neither.

Maybe neither? Yohan's kind of fond of neither. 

It probably doesn't help his case that he's ignored Wooseok's text. He never ignores Wooseok's texts. Finds it near impossible to do so, actually. He also can't remember the last time he sprinted to his managerial accounting class with such vigor (he's desperate for distractions). And he's usually big about spending the afternoon studying with Wooseok before they head back home together, but today, he finds himself in the company of three people who aren't Kim Wooseok. 

Dongpyo digs a bright pink plastic spoon into his cup of ice cream. He's still wearing his school uniform. "You look stressed, hyung," he observes. 

"I messed up, but it's chill," Yohan explains, even though its clearly not chill and he's clearly not okay with the fact that he messed up. He laughs nervously. 

"Are you okay," Dongpyo states—doesn't ask. He's staring at Yohan like he half-expects him to spontaneously combust into flames. Baskin Robbins would probably not be the place to do that. Any family establishment probably discourages spontaneous combustion. Think about the children, Yohan reminds himself. Trauma is always hard to unravel. 

"I just," Yohan attempts feebly. Beside him, Hangyul is stifling another laugh. Across him, Seungwoo has finally looked up from his phone, where he's probably watching another YouTube video on chatspeak and teen lingo. "I just, I really messed up! We're going to go back home and my mom's going to be lurking in the halls like a vulture so she can ask Wooseok hyung weird suggestive questions he's not going to get because he doesn't know that I told her that we're dating because I'm starting to lose my mind at how my mom literally just drops my phone number into people's pockets at church and—" He takes a deep breath. Throws on a smile. Picture-perfect. "We're just not having a good time right now." 

"You could start by responding to his text," Hangyul suggests. 

"Why would I do that?" Yohan demands. "Why would I do that when I can sit here and refuse to confront my problems?" 

"Because that's what functional adults do?" Dongpyo attempts. 

Yohan drags a hand down his face. "This is the worst thing I could have done to myself, and last year I broke my leg trying to do parkour." 

"You landed the jump though," Hangyul points out, in what he probably thinks is encouragement. 

"I'm going to drop out. Move to Antarctica—"

"Can you bring me back a penguin?"

"Dongpyo, no—"

"—and I'll live the rest of my life in complete isolation and never have to face my fuck-ups ever again." 

"You could probably fuck up in Antarctica," Hangyul suggests. Yohan wishes Hangyul would stop speaking. 

Lately, Seungwoo's been into 'connecting with the youths.' He's probably traumatized from thinking TMI was another word for ATM, because neither Dongpyo nor Dohyon let him live it down, and Seungyoun likes to point to ATMs at every passing moment to ask Seungwoo, what's that, hyung? He's usually pretty invested in Yohan's personal issues, because Seungwoo's a good person. But today, especially, he's empathetic. 

Seungwoo, after an exceeding silence, frowns and says, sagely, "That sounds rough." Before Yohan has the chance to thank Seungwoo for his boundless wisdom (and for his empathy, because Hangyul and Dongpyo are merciless and cold), he adds, the crease between his brow insistent, "Yeet." 

"What," Yohan whispers. He's a jock. He doesn't know what the hell yeet means. 

"That's not how y—" Dongpyo starts to protest, but Hangyul slaps a palm over his mouth. 

"Yeah, Yohan." The expression on Hangyul's face is so giddy, and he really is trying his best not to laugh, Yohan can tell. "My condolences. Yeet, indeed."

He's starting to feel a painful throbbing in his skull. 

Yohan realizes two things in that instant: 1) He maybe kind of sort of definitely needs new friends; and—

He buries his face in his hands and lets out a muffled scream. 

"That was flat," says Dongpyo, because he's taking music lessons these days and thinks that makes him a god. 

2) FUCK. 

Seungwoo clears his throat. "Vibe check?" 

"Yohan?" Wooseok calls out, effectively snapping Yohan out of his deeply unhinged reverie. He looks concerned. Has looked concerned since they stepped foot into the coffee shop. 

This Holly's Coffee in particular is a dangerous place for a (potentially) vulnerable conversation because Yohan knows Seungyoun works here, and as much as he loves Seungyoun, the risk of the entire campus knowing Things They Don't Need to Know if Seungyoun overhears this conversation? Very high. 

But Wooseok had insisted after catching Yohan outside of Hangyul's building (he'd been trying to and failing to convince Hangyul to house him in the coat closet like a fugitive—come on, dude, just until Wooseok hyung forgets who I am, it'll be chill! Don't be a punk bitch, dude!) and now it's too late to turn back. 

"I'm listening," Yohan lies. 

Wooseok is clearly not convinced, but he continues anyway. "Like I was saying, I got a weird text from my mom." He takes one long sip of his iced Americano. "She was really upset. Wanted to know why I was keeping secrets from her. Which was strange, because I couldn't remember hiding anything from her..."

Yohan laughs hollowly. "Wild," he says. "Wack."

"Isn't it?" Wooseok presses. "You look like you have something you want to say."

"I don't," Yohan insists, his voice skyrocketing three octaves. He sounds incredibly pained, which isn't far from the truth, the feeble smile on his lips a good indicator of how absolutely fucked he feels. "I really don't!"

"You don't?" Wooseok hums. He knows. Of course he knows. But Yohan doesn't know why he's dragging it out. "That's a shame. I was hoping my boyfriend would bring me up to speed, especially considering his mom wants to hear everything about how we got together." 

Ah. 

Yohan sinks into his seat and drags his hands down his face. "Okay, so I fucked up!" He says it a little too loudly, attracting the attention of a couple of girls sitting a few tables away. They stare at him with wide eyes and Yohan wonders, distantly, if this is karma or if his luck really is just shit. He's too shy for this, and it's obvious because his ears are now a bright tomato red. 

Wooseok, to his credit, almost looks sympathetic. "Seriously?" He narrows his eyes. "How did this happen, Yohan?" 

"Well, I, uh, you know," Yohan stammers out, words punctuated with tiny bursts of nervous laughter. "My mom's been worried that I'm going to end up single and never ready to mingle so she keeps trying to meddle. Love her to death, for real, but I'm trying to juggle being on the taekwondo team while passing my classes and there's very little time for me to be thinking about how to romance someone. Hyung, I can't even convince anyone to marry me on the Sims. It's just not gonna happen." 

The Sims reference goes completely and entirely over Wooseok's head. He can tell by the way Wooseok squints like he is desperately trying to make sense of the gibberish Yohan has just uttered.

"Okay," Wooseok says, evenly. "And how did I get tied up in this?"

It's a good thing the Sims reference does not click, because now Yohan doesn't have to waste time explaining that he's been trying to get Sim-Yohan and Sim-Wooseok to get married since, like, second year of high school. 

"Yohan," Wooseok says, sternly. 

"Oh," Yohan mumbles. "Uh. Funny story... She was calling me... to talk about some stuff... Mostly book club stuff. Just book club stuff, actually... And then she tried to set me up with some girl from church and I, um, might have told her I'm dating someone?" 

Wooseok does not blink. His eyes have become significantly stronger since he got Lasik. It's impressive, but especially terrifying today. 

"Yohan." 

"Hyung," whines Yohan. "I hate when you do that. You sound like Thanos. That dude blows." 

Wooseok folds his arms across his chest. He does not speak a single word. He only waits. Like Thanos, he is inevitable or something. 

Yohan clears his throat. "It's not a huge deal," he begins, even though it is kind of a big deal, if not a big situation. "I just, well, when she asked me who I was dating, my brain started breaking down and the only person I could think of was you so I—"

"Yohan," Wooseok repeats, this time not quite like Thanos. His expression breaks into one of disbelief, pure exasperation. "You're kidding me." 

"I wish I was," Yohan attempts, feebly. "If that counts for anything, I mean."

It doesn't. 

Wooseok buries his face in his hands.

What Yohan presently thinks is unfair (just one thing, because there are a lot of things—so many things—but very little time and very little emotional capacity to unpack all of the things) involves the way Wooseok is smiling at Yohan's mom as though they did not just have a thirty-minute pow-wow in a Holly's Coffee trying to figure out what the fuck their love story was. They'd gone through a couple of drafts. First, they'd started with something cheesy. Wooseok had insisted it'd be the most convincing and most mom-friendly. Yohan had to level with him: there was no way in hell his mom would believe that Yohan was suave enough to ask Wooseok out with a bouquet of flowers when he can't afford a cup ramen on a good day. Then they'd moved onto something a little more dramatic. Sprinkle in some pouring rain. Running after each other on the streets. A kiss, but censored, because Yohan's baby sister might be eavesdropping. This love story gets tossed out too because Wooseok thinks it's stolen from a Korean drama Yohan's watching. Yohan protests, but it's true. He knows jack shit about creative integrity or intellectual property.

In the end, they settle for something a little more close to home. And Yohan's mom is absolutely head-over-heels as Wooseok explains why it took so long for Yohan to ask him out. 

"Yohan's kind of shy," Wooseok explains, pushing a peeled apple slice across his plate with his fork. He pierces through it, stares at it, but does not move to bite into it. "I'm sure you know better than I do, Mrs. Kim. He's so sweet, though. It was hard not to notice the way he'd kind of... go out of his way to take care of me? I mean, I'd be an idiot not to fall for him too." 

Yohan's throat is tight. This is all a little too close to home. He feels naked and afraid. 

Wooseok lifts the apple slice with his fork and, the absolute fucking monster, presses it against Yohan's lips. "Say ah." 

Oh god. He's going to start crying in front of his mom, in his childhood living room, because his longtime crush is feeding him a fucking apple while weaving an elaborate tale about how Yohan asked him out when in reality, Kim Yohan absolutely does not even have the balls to pass along his shitty Spotify playlist of American pop songs about love to Wooseok, even by accident. 

He swallows back his panic and bites the apple instead. 

It's chill. He's fine. 

"You two are so sweet," Yohan's mom says, honey dripping from her eyes. "Well, I'll be honest, boys, I didn't really believe Yohan when he said you two were dating..." 

(Rude, but valid.)

"But I can see now that I was wrong, and I'm so happy that you can take care of him, Wooseok." The smile Yohan's mom wears is so painstakingly genuine that the pang of guilt that shoots up Yohan's chest almost makes him recoil. "My Yohan really loves you, you know. He's always followed you around—oh, when he was younger, he'd throw absolute fits whenever we told him he couldn't marry you." 

"Okay," Yohan chokes out around a mouthful of apple. "Let's keep the blackmail to a minimum, mom."

Wooseok's expression is unreadable, though there's a faint smile on his lips too. He sets the fork down on the plate, doesn't make a single sound. "I like Yohan a lot too," he says, too easily. He reaches over to settle a hand over Yohan's, resting their interlocked hands on Yohan's knee, the picture of domesticity. "It was about time we started dating." 

Yohan swallows thickly. A piece of apple lodges itself in his throat. Maybe if he's lucky he'll just fall over and cease existing here. 

"Finally mustered up the courage..." Yohan trails off. He hiccups. Wooseok squeezes his hand. "I'm, uh, happy. So... you don't have to worry about me anymore, mom." 

His mom smiles again. Yohan's heart does an annoying flip and then sinks. 

They don't really talk about it, probably for good reason. Wooseok goes home almost immediately after the impromptu meeting with Yohan's mom, but only after pecking Yohan's cheek outside his door (because they both know Yohan's mom was watching). He has a project to work on; we'll talk about it later, Wooseok says. Except they don't. 

"I have a crisis," Yohan announces. 

"If it's not about climate change, I don't want to hear it," Hangyul replies. 

Hangyul is honestly right. The entire world is crumbling as they speak, and Yohan's love life crumbling with it probably isn't as important as the ice caps or fossil fuels. 

"Oh," says Yohan. 

"Dude, I was kidding." Hangyul looks up from a packet of papers (probably another screenplay). "I mean, well, I'm not kidding about climate change. That's serious. But I am fully capable of caring about the environment while simultaneously fighting off my existential ennui and listening to your problems." 

Hangyul is the best friend, probably.

"Right," Yohan continues. "So, as we know, I have—" He doesn't want to say the word cr*sh because it's kind of childish. He also doesn't want to say infatuation because that sounds vaguely Shakespearean and Yohan's not eloquent enough to pass it off as every-day verbiage. "—a singular feeling for Wooseok hyung." 

"Your boyfriend, yes."

"My fake boyfriend," corrects Yohan.

"In a world of counterfeit—"

"Dude."

"Sorry. Go on. You were saying? Your fake boyfriend and your singular feeling."

Yohan drags a hand down his face. They're sitting in the corner of one of the lounges on campus. It's presently empty, but still probably not the best place for a heart-to-heart. Or a heart-to-Hangyul. Semantics. "My mom's in love with him and I genuinely think I might break her heart if I tell her we 'broke up' or that it was all an elaborate lie."

"I knew from the second you told me what you did that this was going to be a terrible idea with terrible execution," Hangyul says, the pinnacle of comfort. 

"Thanks, man. Love that for me."

"But," Hangyul says, "I don't know why you're freaking out. Did Wooseok hyung break up with you? Or, like, did you guys talk about it? It wouldn't be very convincing if you two broke up less than a week after you talked with your mom about it, you know? And you might be dumb, but Wooseok hyung's smart enough to take that into account."

His instinct is to reply to the insult, but Yohan tries (with much futility) to focus on the more pressing matter at hand. "I haven't spoken to him in... days. Since we talked to my mom. He just kind of disappeared into the void." He pauses. "Well, I guess that's kind of a lie. I do see him and I do talk to him, but it's kind of just small talk? He's always rushing to do something." 

"Well." Hangyul's well is weighted, heavy. "Yeah. I would imagine he's busy studying, which people who pass their classes tend to do. You probably wouldn't know, considering your GPA's been a steady 2.5 since we met, but studying can take up time." 

Fuck Hangyul, first of all.

"Hey, I study." Well, not really. "Sometimes." Or never. "I... pay attention in class?"

"You draw pieces of poop on your notebook paper for the entire seventy-five minutes of our accounting class," Hangyul deadpans.

"They're multi-functional," Yohan begins to protest. "If you draw a triangle under one, it turns into a soft-serve ice cream cone—" He pauses. "Okay, that's not the point. The point is this was a really stupid idea and you didn't stop me."

Hangyul very helpfully aims a dusty rubber band he probably picked up from the floor at Yohan's thigh. "How was I supposed to stop you, dude? You busted into my room after the deed had been done. Besides, you've had dumber ideas."

"Yeah, but none of them have been this emotionally brutal." Yohan leans his head back, sinking into his armchair of choice. Now that he thinks about it, he's definitely cried in this armchair once during finals season. Maybe after. Probably after. His international finance grade wasn't so hot last year. "This was so stupid. You don't even know how much I felt like dying and crying all at once when we were talking with my mom. He kept on—he put together this story about how I took forever to confess because I was shy—"

"Accurate."

"—and said it all so easily, like he wasn't pretending at all. And then he was talking about how he'd be an idiot not to fall for me too and I was literally, literally, digging my nails into my palms trying to stop myself from doing something stupid like kissing him right then and there. I probably still have the marks on my hands!" He doesn't. He shows Hangyul anyway, who only nods and mumbles something along the lines of hm, looks like bullshit. "This sucks royally." 

At the very least, Hangyul does seem sympathetic. He lets out a harrowing sigh before rummaging through his backpack for something, looking vaguely disappointed when the only thing he can find is a beat-up protein bar. "I was hoping I'd find, like, I don't know, candy or something to comfort you. I don't know how long this has been in here." It's chocolate-flavored. Hangyul tosses it to Yohan anyway. 

It's probably not the wisest decision, but it's chocolate-flavored, and Yohan isn't a fool, so he tears into the packaging. One bite in and the only thing he can taste is something vaguely sour with a hint of sawdust. Live fast, die young. "Those two hours of us pretending we were dating are probably the peak of my life. I'm going to cling onto those two hours and think about them until I'm eighty-years-old and Wooseok hyung's going to forget what happened in like ten seconds because to him, I'm just his dumbass neighbor who once got locked out on the balcony in the middle of December. I'm never going to stop thinking about it. I'm going to die with it."

"Ah," Hangyul muses, "much like Obi Wan and his inability to let go of his failure to keep Anakin from the Dark Side."

Yohan looks up from the protein bar, half-eaten. "What? No, dude, fuck you. This isn't about Star Wars." 

"Everything's a little about Star Wars."

"What, like your screenplay?"

"That's loosely inspired, you asshole—"

They're too caught-up in their bickering to notice someone new has entered the lounge. Seungyoun seats himself primly on the edge of the round table in front of Hangyul and Yohan's armchairs and says, essentially announcing his presence, "Congrats, Yohan!"

Both Yohan and Hangyul flinch. The Star Wars argument has devolved into arguing about who smells worse after practice. 

"Congrats on what?" Yohan asks, at the same time Hangyul demands, "Where did you even pop out from, you demon?" 

"Not to be sketch, but I overheard you and Wooseok talking at Holly's—" Seungyoun leans back onto both hands. "Something about how you guys started dating? So, y'know, thought I'd ask Wooseok about it in class this morning to make sure I heard right before I tweeted about it and he said it was true! How long's it been? Can't believe you guys have been keeping it secret for so long. Actually, well, I guess it was kind of obvious—"

A few things:

1) The Holly's thing. Yohan knew Seungyoun was lurking. 
2) Twitter? 
3) Wooseok confirmed?
4) Obvious?
5) ???????????????????????????????????

"Wait, I," Yohan barely squeaks out.

Hangyul, bless his soul, cuts straight to the chase and asks (on second thought, it's so obvious he's trying not to laugh so maybe Yohan will kill him after all), "Hyung, you tweeted about it? On your personal Twitter account? With over five-thousand followers?" 

Yohan covers his ears, but it's not enough to muffle out Seungyoun's chipper, "Yep!"

Everyone and their mom knows Yohan and Wooseok are allegedly in a relationship. 

"Which wasn't my intention. Like, at all. I really thought this was going to be a total 'hit it and quit it'—"

"Yohan, that is not how you use that saying—"

"—sort of thing, where we just fake it once and then let it go. I did not think you'd accidentally let it slip to Seungyoun hyung and I also did not think Seungyoun hyung would tweet it to the masses. Which, in retrospect, maybe I should have expected, because it's Seungyoun hyung. But oh my god, hyung, now you're going to be stuck with me until we stage a huge very public break-up in front of the entire campus and I totally get the need for it, but I honestly have stage fright, so maybe we'd—"

"Yohan." Wooseok looks vaguely concerned because Yohan has not taken a single breath while speaking. "Can you eat? The food's getting cold."

Their braised chicken has melted cheese on top because Yohan's tastebuds are childlike, at best, and Wooseok is always acquiescent. He stares sullenly at the plate in front of him, picking idly at a dangling glass noodle, before returning his attention to Wooseok. "Hyung, are you mad?"

"Why would I be mad?" Wooseok chews thoughtfully. "Should I be?"

"No? I mean, no! Don't be mad. I just thought... I don't know, aren't you kind of worried people might misunderstand? The horde of girls in the engineering building who are in love with you might be heartbroken. What if they egg my window?" 

Wooseok raises a brow. "Sounds like you're worried." 

"I'm not!" He fidgets. "Okay, I am a little... but only because I don't want people to think differently about you because of me. That'd blow. What if your knight in shining armor's out there trying to catch your eye and this whole fake relationship throws him off?"

"As far as the entire campus knows, you're my knight in shining armor, Yohan," corrects Wooseok, as he twirls his chopsticks around a strand of melting cheese. "I don't have time for a real relationship, and I'm not interested in one either. I'm very content with my current boyfriend, thanks." He looks up, resting his chin against an open palm. There's a glint to Wooseok's eyes—mischievous, almost taunting, and Yohan gulps, visibly. "I'd be even happier if he ate his dinner." He stretches his other arm across the table, chopsticks hovering a single piece of chicken in front of Yohan's mouth. 

Yohan hesitates before accepting the food. "Hyung, you..." He trails off. "You have a terrible personality."

Wooseok smiles sweetly. "Yeah, and?" 

Anyone in the restaurant looking from the outside in probably thinks they're a couple. They look exactly like one: sitting across from each other in a packed jjimdak restaurant, feeding each other, laughing intermittently at idle things the other's said. Every now and then, Yohan just kind of stares at Wooseok, probably with too much honey dripping from his eyes, because Wooseok's like that. He's kind of beautiful. Yohan's always thought so. 

But.

They're not a couple. 

As much as Yohan wishes he could believe what others were seeing, he knows better. Has to know better. 

"Nothing," Yohan mumbles, cheek jutting out from the food still in his mouth. "I'm still mad at you for ghosting me for almost an entire week after we talked with my mom."

"Yohan, I wasn't ghosting you," Wooseok sighs out.

"It felt like ghosting!"

"You're such a baby," comes the easy response, though it's hard to ignore the fond tug of Wooseok's lips, and maybe that affects Yohan's heart more than he'd like to admit. "I was busy with three group projects. They're done now. You have all of my time and attention, and I'm treating you to dinner. What better hyung exists?" 

"Whatever," Yohan huffs, his tone lacking malice despite how much he wishes he could push this sulking thing. It's hard around Wooseok. Yohan's like putty in his hands.

"Anyway, I figured it'd probably be easier to ease into a break-up after a couple of weeks," Wooseok says, lips pursing around his chopsticks as he thinks. The very same chopsticks that were just in Yohan's mouth. They're kissing. Indirectly. And Yohan's being a child about it but he'll take what he can get. "That way, your mom won't be as disappointed and I can have some time to focus on studying. Jinhyuk keeps trying to set me up with people. Have I told you? It's annoying. Sweet of him, I guess, but I'm not interested, like I said."

Yohan gnaws on the end of his straw. His stomach lurches at the thought of Wooseok dating a bunch of dumb engineering dudes and he purposefully stares at the plate of food instead of at Wooseok, appetite evading him. "You're not... interested at all?" he asks. 

Wooseok doesn't reply immediately, and for a second, Yohan thinks he might have asked the wrong thing (he does that a lot). He's about to laugh, brush it off as a joke and then bring up how Hangyul blocked his number for calling him out on plagiarism again when Wooseok hums. 

"I wouldn't go that far," Wooseok practically sing-songs. He's looking intently at Yohan by the time their gazes accidentally meet. Yohan's ears are probably red with the way Wooseok smiles. "I'm just not interested in the people he has in mind." 

"Oh," Yohan says. "So, if it was with the right person?"

"Then I'd be interested."

It's a bustling restaurant, but all Yohan hears for the next ten seconds is pin-drop silence and then the radio static of white noise filling his ears. "Cool," he stammers out. "Is there. Uh. Is there a right person?" 

Once upon a time, Hangyul drunkenly told him at an MT: You're an emotional masochist. All you do is ask questions that hurt you. 

Back then, he'd been too drunk and too emotional (crying about unrequited love) (this whole debacle with Wooseok has history, trust) to retort or even try to fight it, but he's starting to think it might have been because he didn't have an argument after all. 

Because when he comes back to earth, Wooseok's looking down at his plate, the softest smile peeking out against his lips, and Yohan's heart positively squeezes. 

And then he says, "Yeah. There is a right person, I guess?" and Yohan's heart positively shatters.

"Cool," he barely manages to choke out. "Love is cool." 

You know what isn't cool, hyung? Yohan does not say out loud. Climate change. Maybe you should tell that 'right person' to suck it and think about the polar bears instead. 

(He's chill.)

"I just feel like—"

"No offense, dude, but you 'feeling' shit has not done a single good thing for you since this chaos started." 

"Hey," Seungwoo warns. "Don't be mean. Yohan's going through a lot." 

Yohan sniffles. "Thanks, hyung. Fuck you, Hangyul." 

Hangyul throws his hands up in mock exasperation. He has every right to be annoyed considering he's already endured approximately three hours straight of Yohan refusing to talk directly about what's on his mind via text (send me one more 🥺 dumb 🥺 baby 🥺 emoji 🥺 and ill block ur number again kim yohan). Now they're huddled up in the corner of an Ediya Coffee because this is where Seungsik works and Seungwoo's emotional availability (for Yohan's concerns) expires right when Seungsik's shift ends. 

Also, free drinks. Because Kang Seungsik is an angel. 

Deep down, Yohan knows that the only reason why Seungwoo's made time for Yohan's woes despite his otherwise unforgiving grad student schedule is because Dongpyo refuses to teach him how to 'jop' and Seungwoo's kind of sensitive these days so he needs company that won't berate him for being old and behind the times.

"So," Seungwoo begins to say, taking an idle sip of his Americano. There's a heart drawn onto the cup sleeve, courtesy of Seungsik, and Yohan almost wants to cry because it's incredibly cute. "How are you feeling?"

Yohan makes a groaning, whining noise, sinking back into his seat. "I feel like this is pointless. I should just tell my mom I lied, face her wrath, try to date a nice girl from church, and move on in my life." 

"This coming from the dude who just two days ago told me he was going to be thinking about this fake relationship with Kim Wooseok until he was eighty? Go off, I guess." 

"You're the worst," Yohan huffs. "Hangyul, you're the wooooorst. Would it kill you to have some empathy sometimes? Would it absolutely kill you to tell me I'm right to feel completely utterly hopeless because my long-time crush is probably in love with someone else?" 

Hangyul pauses. "What." He squints. "Wooseok hyung's in love with someone?" 

Seungwoo also adds, "That's not realistic." 

"He literally said there was someone on his mind." Yohan frowns. "Why is that unrealistic?" 

"Because," Hangyul says, one hand waving dramatically in the air, "Wooseok hyung refuses to make any time for anyone unless it's you or you're indirectly involved."

"Hangyul's right. Wooseok's always taking care of you," Seungwoo agrees. "I really doubt he'd be pretending to date you if he had someone else on his mind." 

Yohan knows that Seungwoo and Hangyul are attempting to console him, and rationally so, but his mind jumps to conclusions too often, and this exact moment is no exception. 

"So, what you're saying is... I'm in the way." 

"Okay, no, that is not what we're saying—"

"Oh my god, I'm in the way," Yohan mutters hollowly, mostly to himself. "He's busy being in this fake relationship with me because I begged him to cover my ass and now he can't be with his person, I'm the worst."

"No, Yohan, that's not—"

"Holy shit, I have to break this off. I don't want him to hold back because of me. He doesn't have to take care of me. I'm twenty-one. I'm a whole-ass adult." 

"Yohan, listen, let's not jump to conclus—"

"How am I even supposed to word this? 'Thanks for being my fake boyfriend. Loved all almost-two weeks of it. Let's break up so you have time to date. You're not getting any younger. By the way, I'm in love with you but it's fine!' God, I'm the—"

Seungsik, an angel, descends from heaven (from behind the counter) at that very moment, probably drawn to the table by Seungwoo's distressed eyebrow raises. He's holding a slice of chocolate cake on a plate, a bright smile on his face. "Aren't you guys hungry?" 

"Thanks, hyung." Hangyul reaches across the table, grabs a huge chunk of the cake with a fork, and promptly shovels that way-too-big-for-one-human-mouth piece of cake into Yohan's mouth, effectively silencing him. "Okay, listen, you absolute idiot. You're not in Wooseok hyung's way. If you were in his way, he would tell you. If he didn't want to do this fake dating thing with you, he would have told you. If he wants to stop, he will tell you. You're not holding him back. He doesn't take care of you because he has to. Everything he's doing for you is because he wants to, and for the record, you have no idea who this mystery person on his mind is or if they even exist at all. He could be talking about a manhwa character for all we know." 

Yohan tries to speak. He stops trying when the only thing that comes out of his mouth is a garbled attempt at human language. This chocolate cake is thick. 

"Hangyul's right," Seungwoo says, for the second time. "You're Wooseok's exception for a reason. He wouldn't do anything unless he was up to it." 

"I have to get back to work," Seungsik adds, patting Yohan on the head good-naturedly, "but I've always thought Wooseok was a little different around you. Softer around the edges. Warmer? It's sweet." 

He finally, finally, manages to swallow the rest of the cake in his mouth. 

"Listen, if this is really eating away at you, then tell him the plan's off." Hangyul crosses his arms against his chest and leans back in his seat. "But don't do it without telling him what's bothering you so much." 

Yohan frowns. It's only right to put a stop to it before it really grows beyond his control—but there's a part of him, stubborn and loud, that doesn't want it to end. If he was more selfish, he might be willing to admit he wishes he could fake-date Wooseok forever. 

"Give Wooseok some credit." Seungwoo smiles. "He's responsible. He knows his boundaries. Periodt."

Ah. 

Hangyul covers his face to try to stifle his snort.

Yohan bites back a grin too. 

He definitely, for reals, without a doubt, seriously, genuinely, honestly goes home fully intending to draft out a long message for Wooseok explaining why they have to "break up" (over text, because Yohan is a coward and he's self-aware enough to own it). 

The fact is, however, that it simply does not happen. 

"Why are you staring at me instead of watching the movie?" Wooseok asks, looking up from where he's curled up against Yohan's side on the couch, gaze curious, boring holes straight through Yohan. They cuddle sometimes. It's totally platonic. But it feels different tonight, especially, when Wooseok's so close and so warm that Yohan keeps forgetting how to breathe. "Is there something on my face?" 

Yohan clears his throat. Beauty? the Extremely Whipped voice at the back of his head tries to say. "Just wondering if you're comfortable," he says instead.

"Your arm's a good pillow," Wooseok replies, without so much as batting an eyelash. There's a really shitty American movie playing in front of them without subtitles. Somehow, over the course of the past thirty minutes, they'd gone from sitting a foot apart to Yohan's arm around Wooseok's shoulders, zero distance between them. "Are you uncomfortable? Should I move?" 

"No!" Yohan blurts out. "I mean, no, you're fine. This movie sucks, by the way. Why'd you want to watch it?" 

"Does it?" Wooseok hums, pensive. "I haven't been paying attention."

"What? What have you been doing this whole time?"

"Wondering why you're staring at me."

Okay. Touché. Low blow, but whatever. Thank god it's kind of dim, otherwise Yohan's embarrassment at being caught red-handed would be glaringly obvious. 

"If you think I'm pretty, you can tell me to my face, Yohan," Wooseok teases. The movie's like background noise at this point. Neither of them are paying attention in the slightest anymore. 

"Don't you already know it, hyung?" He's not trying to avoid saying it, but it's already kind of hard to focus when Wooseok is so close that Yohan can smell his shampoo.

"Hm, yeah. But it's nice hearing it sometimes." 

"You don't hear it enough?"

Wooseok gaze meets Yohan's, and then his eyes drop lower, like they're lingering on Yohan's lips. 

He has to hold his breath to keep from doing something stupid. 

Maybe he's imagining it.

"I do," Wooseok says, slowly turning his head to face the television screen again. "Not from you, though."

(Later that night, after Wooseok's headed back to his apartment, Yohan tries to draft a message. It starts with 'Sorry hyung, but maybe we should stop?' and quickly devolves into 'Sorry hyung, but I don't know if I'll ever fall out of love with you.' He abandons it. Sends, 'hyung i do think ur pretty!' instead.)

It's unintentional, but he gets busy—to the point that texts end up being forgotten, ignored; calls missed. At some point during the week, Hangyul sends him an email (an email) asking if he's alive. That's when Yohan remembers he needs to slow down. His life, despite being swamped with taekwondo and mandatory tutoring in corporate finance, can't revolve around those two things. His friends and family deserve better than that. 

He's been a little distant with Wooseok as a result, by accident, and when they bump into each other in one of the campus cafeterias, Wooseok doesn't seem entirely pleased.

Considering the last text was 'can we talk? ' (two days ago) and Yohan has Yet to Respond, he isn't surprised by the cold reception. 

"Hi," Yohan greets, feebly.

"You look exhausted," Wooseok comments, his expression softening ever-so-slightly. "Practice?"

"Yeah. We have a competition coming up," explains Yohan. He rubs at his neck, gaze flickering from side-to-side. "Sorry for disappearing. Especially when I pulled a temper tantrum about you ghosting me." 

Wooseok looks vaguely frustrated, and for a second, Yohan thinks he's really fucked up. "Don't apologize," Wooseok ultimately sighs out. "It's not your fault. I don't—" He bites his lower lip. "I don't really think I have any reason to be upset. It's not like we're actually dating." 

"Oh." Yohan swallows the lump in his throat. Something about the last comment hits him a little too hard, catches him off-guard. The past week or so has been absolute chaos and Yohan can't remember the last day he really had any space or time to breathe. He knows he missed Wooseok though. Knows he missed Wooseok but always hesitated to text him no matter how badly he wanted to ask for some company. 

"Right?" Wooseok asks, like he needs confirmation, and Yohan can't imagine why. 

"... Right." 

The crestfallen frown on Wooseok's face that follows shouldn't be there. 

"Right," murmurs Wooseok. "You should get some rest," he says, softer. "I need to head to the library, so I'll catch you la—"

"Wait!" Yohan stumbles forward one step, as though he's prepared to keep Wooseok rooted in place if he has to. He doesn't. He shuffles back half a step to compensate for the knee-jerk reaction. "I, uh, you said you wanted to talk? Sorry. I didn't mean to ignore your text, really! I just haven't had much time or energy to think about anything that isn't taekwondo or passing finance." 

"Oh, that's..." Wooseok shakes his head and offers Yohan a tiny, tired smile. "It's nothing. I figured it out. Don't worry about it. Get some lunch, okay? I'll talk to you later." 

"Hyung, I—" really missed you. 

"What is it?" 

No one looking at them from the outside would think they're a couple: standing too many feet apart, both stiff as boards; they won't meet each other's eyes, not for long, at least. 

That's just the truth though, isn't it? 

Never mind the fact that just last week, they were tangled up in each other on the couch, watching some dumb movie neither of them cared about. Never mind the fact that had he been a modicum braver, he probably would have kissed Wooseok right then and there. 

"Are you okay?" presses Wooseok, brows furrowed in concern. 

Yohan laughs awkwardly, takes another step back, like he's giving Wooseok space. Like Wooseok needs space. "Never mind. I'll see you." 

His mom's awake when he gets home, scrolling through her phone at the kitchen table while she picks at a bowl of cherry tomatoes. She doesn't notice Yohan coming in until he shuffles into the kitchen, perusing the contents of the refrigerator for something to fill his stomach with before he hops into the shower. 

"I ran into Wooseok earlier," she says, in lieu of greeting.

"Oh," Yohan manages. "Yeah?"

"He dropped off a box of Salonpas and a couple of bottles of Vita 500 for you. He seemed worried you weren't taking care of yourself. I put the drinks in the refrigerator." 

There's a tightness to his chest he can't quite put a finger on. The two, small, yellow bottles are on the middle shelf. Yohan wraps a hand around one. 

"He's sweet," his mom continues, the snap! of a tomato louder at this hour, when the rest of their apartment is silent. "Always looking out for you. You should be good to him, Yohan. I think you'd regret letting him get away." 

The tightness spreads to his throat. "Yeah," he says, after a second too long. "I know." And then, because he figures if he can't be honest to the person who matters, he might as well get it off of his chest here: "I really like him." 

"I can tell," comes the reply. Another snap. Yohan feels a little sick. "I can tell he really likes you too." 

Hangyul finishes his screenplay on a Thursday night. 

Yohan would know because on Thursday nights, he usually heads back home from campus with Wooseok. They stop by their favorite Chinese restaurant on the way. Wooseok always gets jjambbong, Yohan always gets jjajangmyeon. They always split a tangsuyuk and always regret ordering it. Always. 

"Except today," Hangyul observes. He's a lot more relaxed now that he doesn't have to spend a significant amount of time contemplating how best to avoid copyright lawsuits. According to Hangyul, he's abandoned his original plot and settled on something less-similar-to-a-popular-multibillion-dollar-franchise. He won't tell Yohan, so Yohan's assuming by default that it's something embarrassingly introspective or something based off of another less-powerful-but-probably-still-giant-franchise. "Because otherwise, you'd be at the restaurant, annoying him, instead of stinking up my entire room, annoying me." 

Practice always ends late on Thursday nights. Wooseok's last class ends at the same time. Today, Wooseok had texted Yohan an apology—i'm busy tonight, sorry. 

He's chill though. Not at all bummed or, like, you know, devastated about it. 

Which is exactly what he tells Hangyul. 

"Except you are," Hangyul murmurs pensively. "You are devastated about it. Because with each passing day, you realize you're abso-fucking-lutely whipped for Kim Wooseok. It's like an illness spreading throughout your entire body. Like a zombie pathogen. Your antibodies aren't strong enough to fight—"

"I knew it," Yohan says. "I knew it. You changed your screenplay to Train to Busan, didn't you?"

Hangyul freezes and then lets out a single, purposeful cough. "I don't have to answer that."

"You're such a fake."

"Okay, relax. This isn't about me. This is about you and your entire love life going up in flames because of one person who's the size of my arm." 

"Hey, back off. He's fun-sized." 

"And you're whipped. Next?" 

Yohan only groans. 

"I just don't get it," Hangyul says, spinning once in his swivel chair. He props his legs up on the end of his bed and leans back in his seat. "If it's causing you this much grief, just end it? I don't know why you haven't confessed to him yet. What's the worst that could happen? He says he doesn't feel the same and you two move on in your lives and pretend it never happened?"

Hangyul's right; Yohan knows he is. But there's always some form of second-guessing going on. There's always that last-second jolt of fear, of paranoia, that maybe Wooseok won't feel the same way at all and it'll shatter whatever they have right this second to the point its irreparable. He's known Wooseok for more than half his life. He doesn't want to give Wooseok up just because his feelings are too much to stomach—just because he can't keep them to himself. 

"It's not that simple," Yohan starts to complain.

"I know," Hangyul concedes. "But in a way, it kind of is. You're only making it harder for yourself and for Wooseok hyung the more you avoid it. It's like a band-aid. Rip it off." 

"It's not that simple," insists Yohan. He's whining at this point, being petulant because he doesn't want to admit out loud that he's just scared. 

"Can I see your phone?" Hangyul asks, abruptly. 

With a heaving sigh, Yohan flops over onto Hangyul's bed. "Just get an iPhone already, dude."

Hangyul rolls his eyes. "Android or bust. C'mon. Unlock it and let me see it." He opens his palms, waits expectantly until Yohan relents and tosses the phone to him without thinking. 

Belatedly, he asks, "What are you doing?"

Hangyul doesn't answer his question. "Do you trust me?" 

For a second, he thinks Hangyul's joking—but his tone of voice is level, serious, like he's really asking. Yohan stops squirming, blinking at the white wall Hangyul's bed is pressed against. "This is a trap," he declares.  

"Do you trust me or not?" 

Yohan frowns, rolling over onto his back. Hangyul's got one of those foam mattress toppers while Yohan's mattress is the cheapest one from Ikea. If he could, he'd crash here every night. As much as he loves his family, he'd kill for a comfy bed too. "Fine. I trust you. You could hold a gun to my head and I'd be chill about it." 

Hangyul stills, looking up from Yohan's phone, expression fixed into one of mild awe. "What's next? You're in love with me? That's gay, Yohan." 

"You've been dating Kijoong for a year." 

"Okay, wait, before I do anything," Hangyul starts to say, artfully avoiding talking about his Boyfriend (because Hangyul rarely gets embarrassed, but when he does, it's usually because Kijoong's involved). "Let's say you confess to Wooseok hyung. Let's say, hypothetically, in some parallel universe, he says he doesn't feel the same. Would that be unbearable for you? Like, would you be able to pick yourself up and move on or would you be emo about it for the rest of your life and inevitably destroy your friendship with him?" 

"That was really descriptive and I hate it?" Yohan covers his face with his hands. "He doesn't have to like me back," is what he settles on, after a few seconds of deep consideration. "He could laugh at me for all I care. I just don't want to... lose him. Or stop seeing him. Or not get to hang out with him. He's been in my life for so long, I don't really know if life would be the same without him. I could put up with the heartbreak for a little while. It'd get better, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, of course," Hangyul replies. "And just to clarify, you trust me. You would let me put a gun to your head, etcetera etcetera, you're probably in love with me but it's chill, etcetera." 

"Dude."

"Okay."

He means it. Everything he's said about being okay with rejection. Yohan means it. Sure, he'd probably be devastated for a hot second, but he's good with moving on, good with looking forward. And he means it—he'd brave the worst storms if it meant keeping Wooseok around. He can learn to fall out of love. He can learn to stay in love quietly. It's just hard, right this second, convincing himself that closure's what he needs because there's still a teeny tiny part of him that's hopeful for a happy ending.

What that happy ending is is beyond him.

The room's silent. Then, Hangyul starts clacking away on Yohan's phone keypad. And then, Yohan hears the click of a message being sent on KakaoTalk. And then, the sound of his phone locking.

Silence. Again.

"Hey," Yohan calls out, cautiously. He shifts, using his elbows to move until his torso's upright. Hangyul looks incredibly placid, thumbing through a space heater manual. "What did you just do?" 

"Nothing." Hangyul raises a brow. "Yohan, do you trust me?" 

Yohan narrows his eyes. "Yeah...?"

"Great." Hangyul positively beams before tossing the phone back to Yohan. "Because I just sent a KakaoTalk message to Wooseok hyung letting him know how you feel." 

"You?"

He.

What.

What.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Yohan scrambles for his phone, frantically typing in his passcode when his phone calls him out for having sweaty hands because Your passcode is required to enable Touch ID! "No fucking way, you didn't," Yohan stammers, feeling literal beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he opens up KakaoTalk and holy shit. 

hyung. i like you. 

He's about to type out some shitty excuse, probably pin the blame on Hangyul because, well, it's Hangyul's fault. It sucks because as much as Yohan wants to be mad about this, he kind of isn't. It's weird—the way his chest feels a little lighter than it did ten seconds ago now that he doesn't have this secret to bear. But there has to be some damage control. He doesn't want it to happen like this.

"Hangyul, you—" He chucks a pillow in Hangyul's direction. "You asshole."

"Look!" Hangyul says, catching the pillow easily and hugging it to his chest. "I just want you to stop being so down about a question you don't even know the answer to! I have zero doubts that Wooseok hyung's just as whipped for you as you are for him, but even if he isn't, you can't move on and let yourself happy unless you know what you're moving on from." 

"That—" Yohan pauses for a second, catches himself frowning. "That's the smartest thing you've ever said. In your life, probably." He throws another pillow. "You're still an asshole. God, what am I even supposed to say to him?"

"Nothing? Wait until he responds—"

Yohan's phone might as well be screaming with how loud the new message notification sounds, effectively silencing Hangyul and rendering Yohan frozen. His grip tightens around his phone and the lump in his throat feels ten times bigger when he clamps one eye shut, peeking at the screen with complete and total reluctance, trepidation. 

where are you? i'm still at school. i want my boyfriend to walk me home.

Oh. Oh. He's still. He's still Wooseok's boyfriend. Wooseok's fake boyfriend, but—oh. Wooseok hasn't completely rejected him. There might be a chance. 

He isn't sure why the message makes him so stupidly giddy. 

He isn't sure why one single message from Wooseok is enough to pull him away from his momentary panic.

"What'd he say?" Hangyul whispers. 

Yohan swallows thickly before practically catapulting himself off of the bed and grabbing his jacket and his gym bag at mach speed. "Gotta go!" he says, too quickly, nearly slamming into Hangyul's closed door in his rush to get out. 

"Why are you in such a hurry?" 

He stills by the door, hand curled around the knob. "I don't know," Yohan confesses, and the minute anger he'd been nursing a couple of minutes ago seems like something lost to the past now, with the way he's smiling—small, shy, like he's embarrassed to think too long about the reason. "I just don't want to keep him waiting, I guess." 

(i'm on my way!!!!!!)

Wooseok's standing by the main gate, looking awfully cold, shoulders all hunched up, hands buried in his coat pockets. Yohan hesitates for a second before jogging up to him, tossing his own jacket over Wooseok's shoulders without a second thought. 

"It's November, you know," Yohan says. His cheeks are probably a little flushed (he ran here, literally sprinted and almost knocked over a child walking with his dad on the sidewalk), and the giddiness from earlier has tapered down into something a little more serious, more sober. He's nervous again. Now that he's in front of Wooseok, all he can think about is the message Hangyul sent and how Wooseok didn't even seem to bat an eye at it. "You're going to catch a cold if you keep dressing like it's spring." 

Wooseok doesn't even seem surprised, only looks up at Yohan, his hands closing around the edges of Yohan's jacket, pulling it closer around his body. "That's why I have you." 

"You're abusing your fake boyfriend privileges," Yohan warns, though his voice feels strained, throat tight. There's still a smile on his face though, eyes crinkling fondly when Wooseok shivers once. God, he likes Wooseok so much.

For a second, he forgets all of the reasons why he was so upset tonight. Thursdays are their Chinese food nights. He should complain, whine about how he wants jjajangmyeon.  

But then Wooseok gazes at him again, the playful mirth gone from his eyes, replaced with genuine curiosity. "I thought you liked me," Wooseok says, so quietly it almost sounds like he's whispering. "Doesn't that mean you want to be my real boyfriend?" 

"Oh," Yohan chokes out, thoughts spilling from his mind until nothing coherent remains. "That, uh."

He used to daydream about this moment. Waste hours in the library when he was supposed to be studying, supposed to be finishing up late assignments, thinking about how he'd confess. He wanted it to be romantic, wanted it to be picturesque. Roses. A red carpet. A huge fucking robot that sweeps Wooseok up into the palm of its giant mechanical hand and then—wait, that's the plot of Transformers. There'd be a symphony or something. Hangyul would be there, doing flips and shit. Maybe Seungwoo and Seungsik would drop by to look like a supportive married couple. At some point, he'd say, Hyung, I think I like you? and then, when Wooseok looks at him with those searching eyes, curious and pretty, Yohan would say, Well actually, I know for a fact I'm in love with you.

There are no roses.

No red carpet. No giant robots here to fight the apocalypse (is that even the plot of Transformers?). No symphony. No Hangyul (thank god). No Seungwoo. No Seungsik. Nothing according to plan. 

But Wooseok's right in front of him, lips parted, like he's ready to take back everything he's said if Yohan doesn't show some sign of reciprocation soon—

"I like you," he blurts out, graceless as always. "A whole lot. A whole fucking lot. For the past year, two years, since high school, maybe even since before high school. Ever since I knew what it felt like to have a crush. It was always you. I like you." 

It's quiet tonight. No one's lagging around the gate, and even the city feels quiet behind them. 

Wooseok doesn't say anything at first. He takes half a step forward, buries his hands into the pocket of Yohan's hoodie. Then he smiles. "I know." And then, "I like you too. I wanted to tell you a few days ago. That's why I texted you asking to talk. I was getting impatient. I thought I might have been misreading the signs when you wouldn't take the bait. You know, usually, when a guy as cute as me wants to cuddle on the couch, it isn't because he thinks you make a good pillow." He leans in closer, teasing. "I was hoping you'd kiss me then." 

His heart's racing at this point and Yohan can't really wrap his mind around how quickly everything seems to be happening, seems to be falling into place. 

And Yohan's dumb, reckless, and head over heels, so the only thing he can think to do is cup Wooseok's face with his hands. 

"Can I kiss you now?" he asks. His fingers must be trembling because Wooseok clasps a hand over Yohan's as though tethering him to reality, reminding him it's real. "Sorry. This was supposed to be different. Smoother. But I can't really think straight and the only thing I want to do right now is kiss you, so I—"

"Yohan," Wooseok practically hums, his hand sliding down until both palms are pressed against his chest, are curling into the lapels of Yohan's sweatshirt. "Haven't you kept me waiting long enough?"

It almost feels like the air's being squeezed out of his lungs. 

So he kisses him. It's clumsy, far from perfect, and at some point he thinks Wooseok might be laughing against his lips. But they ease into it—they ease into each other, as they often do, and Wooseok's arms fold around Yohan's neck, Yohan's hands resting at Wooseok's hips. It starts feeling natural, and when Wooseok pulls away, his breath still warm against Yohan's skin, the only thought in his mind is how ridiculously worth the wait this was. 

"You have terrible music taste," Wooseok tells him, biting back a smile. "You listen to too much Taylor Swift." 

"Hey, she gets me," Yohan whines. "Cruel Summer? A bop." 

"And I think you're dense. I've been trying to get you to ask me out since last year, you know." 

Yohan's jaw drops. "What. No way. Why didn't you just ask me out?" he groans, burying his face into the crook of Wooseok's neck. He can feel the vibrations of Wooseok's laughter. "Then I wouldn't have had to embarrass myself telling my mom we were dating and overcomplicate everything."

"That would have been no fun." Wooseok taps his fingers against the slope of Yohan's neck. "I'm sorry I bailed on you tonight. If it makes you feel any better, I sat in the library and thought about how stupid you were the whole time. My treat next week." 

"I've liked you for forever, hyung," Yohan says, words muffled. "I was telling Hangyul that I'd be happy with just our fake relationship if it was going to be the end of it. I could be happy even if it was fake. And then I started panicking thinking I should break it off because I thought for a second that I was holding you back. It scared the crap out of me. When you were talking about the right person." 

"Did you figure it out?" Wooseok asks, running a hand through Yohan's hair. "That you're my right person?" 

"I better be," Yohan grumbles petulantly. He pulls back until they're facing each other again, and the way the harsh light of the streetlamp above them bounces off of Wooseok's eyes make it look like they're twinkling. He's kind of smitten. Really smitten. Smitten enough to kiss Wooseok again, on the forehead, on the cheek, and then on the lips—just a peck. "I like you," he says again, because he can. 

"I know," Wooseok echoes, leaning up on the balls of his shoes until they're kissing one more time, slower, because they have all of the time in the world. "I like you too."

Yohan's mom is throwing the trash out when they make it back to the apartment building, fingers laced, shoulders pressed, Yohan staring at Wooseok like he singlehandedly hung each and every star in the sky.

The only thing she says, her lips curving into an enlightened 'O' is, "It finally happened?"

Yohan slows to a stop and asks, "What finally happened," at the same time Wooseok grins and says, "Yeah." 

"You thought you could trick your own mother into thinking you were dating?" Yohan's mom scoffs, clicking her tongue teasingly. "You're a terrible liar, Kim Yohan! I knew right away! Wooseok told me the truth too, but of course, when he asked me to keep it a secret, I said yes."

"You were... scheming this whole time?" Yohan mumbles, mostly to himself. "My own boyfriend and my own mother? Collaborated? Against me?"

Wooseok only smiles, shrugging his shoulders once before pecking Yohan on the cheek. "It wasn't anything devious. She just asked me if we were really dating. I said no." He squeezes Yohan's hand. "Not yet." 

News inevitably spreads (again) because Seungyoun catches them kissing in Holly's Coffee and decides he has to tweet about it (again) (and Yohan no longer feels safe in Holly's, but this is kind of a given). Hangyul demands compensation for playing an instrumental role in the process and Seungwoo says, very concisely, "That's really lit."

Yohan replies (with his entire heart) when he catches Wooseok entering Ediya to join them at their corner table, his expression melting into a smitten smile, "Very lit."