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When they start the bet most everyone is drunk. Jooyeon knows he is because there’s definitely only one Gunil in the association, not the two he’s currently seeing.
“You can’t just go on one date!” Gunil is stipulating. He gestures and sloshes murky brown liquid over the rim of his solo cup. “You have to stay together until the end of the semester.”
There are some groans at that.
“It would be too easy otherwise,” someone pipes up.
Jooyeon agrees. He could totally get a date like that if he wanted. It’s barely a challenge. But dating, properly, for the rest of the semester- Now that’s a bet.
He scans the crowd, wondering just how quickly he can nail this one. He doesn’t just want to not lose: he wants to be the first to win, obviously.
It’s not the ideal night to hit on someone. He’s got his hair slicked back and fake blood dripping down his chin and a cheap pair of plastic fangs in his mouth that make it really hard to speak or drink or, most importantly, make out. Like, he can take them out. But then he’s not really Dracula, is he?
There are some girls in the corner who are in his physiology class. He knows their names, at least, and they have something in common already. That’s a strong option. One of them is dressed as Annabelle, with ginger braids and big blue contacts in. It’s cute. Jooyeon has seen that movie. He can do this.
He turns to push through the crowd in that direction, trips over someone’s tail, and crashes right into Chucky.
Chucky’s big knife jabs him in the side and he says, “oof,” and his vampire teeth pop right out and clatter along the floor.
“Sorry!” Chucky says. He bends down and grabs the teeth for Jooyeon, and Jooyeon stares at his ass while he does it.
When he stands back up, palm outstretched to offer the fangs back, Jooyeon realises he knows who’s ass he was just ogling.
“Jiseok!”
His dyed-red hair is spiked up wildly, and he’s got dungarees on and a gash painted across his face. He’s kind of the cutest Chucky Jooyeon has ever seen. The right size for it, too.
“Hi,” Jiseok smiles. He looks more sober than Jooyeon feels. “Nice costume.”
“I like yours, too,” Jooyeon grins. He’s not gonna say the size thing.
Instead, he follows up with, “are you in on this game, too?”
Jiseok nods. They’re both part of the Asian-American Association so Jooyeon knew he probably was. He wouldn’t be if he already had a girlfriend, but now Jooyeon knows he’s single.
“Any plans?”
Jooyeon squeezes closer to lean against the wall beside Jiseok, bending his knees a little so that they’re the same height. He surveys the room critically.
Shrugging, Jiseok says, “I dunno yet. Someone from one of my classes, I guess.”
Jiseok is in one of Jooyeon’s classes.
“Hey,” Jooyeon starts, speaking before he thinks. “Why don’t you date me?”
Jiseok’s laugh is so loud, staccato and raspy.
“This is the worst come-on ever,” he giggles.
“No, like,” Jooyeon tries and fails not to laugh too. “Pretend. We pretend to date. Then we definitely won’t lose.”
One of Jiseok’s eyebrows slowly rises, he looks Jooyeon up and down, and then asks, “is anyone going to believe that?”
Jooyeon nods.
“Yeah, like, we’ll be super convincing,” he says. “We can hold hands.”
Jiseok laughs again, the painted-on scar stretching as he does, and he teases, “you want to hold my hand?”
“I want to win,” Jooyeon says emphatically.
“You can’t win with some girl?” Jiseok asks. He’s smirking, which goes really well with his costume.
Jooyeon thinks he’s supposed to be offended by the insinuation, but he’s way drunker than he ever likes to get and he keeps looking at Jiseok’s hand and he just wants Jiseok to agree to this.
“I can, but,” Jooyeon worries at his lip with his teeth and tastes corn syrup. “I thought I’d take pity on you.”
They’re not exactly friends. Both Korean, mostly-strangers who’ve shared a few classes since the first year. Jooyeon knows the barest facts about Jiseok: his roommate’s name, that he plays guitar, his major and, for some reason, his hometown. Despite this, Jiseok still punches Jooyeon in the arm hard enough for it to sting.
“You’re such a dick,” he says, but he’s grinning and Jooyeon is sure he’s in.
The next day Jooyeon wakes up with a pounding headache and Jiseok’s number in his phone. It’s saved as “my boyfriend” with a red heart emoji, and for some reason this is the thing that makes Jooyeon realise he’s just decided to fake-date a man instead of real-dating a woman.
He thinks about it while he showers, and by the time he’s towel-dried his hair he’s decided he doesn’t mind. It’s whatever. If anyone is weird about it, that's on them. Lee Jooyeon is an accepting and open guy.
Plus, Jiseok is really pretty. Jooyeon will admit to looking at him in class, sometimes. And at parties when someone pulls out an acoustic guitar and his fingers dance over the frets so fluidly. And they’ve been to all the same parties so Jooyeon has seen Jiseok dressed up to impress and he could rival some of the girls there, Jooyeon thinks. It’s not like this is a hardship, really.
When he’s in his afternoon class, slouched over his laptop and wishing he had just skipped, his phone vibrates with a message.
It’s Jiseok, asking when Jooyeon wants to come up with their backstory.
Under the table, Jooyeon texts back, “don’t need 1. i asked u out at party last night.”
Jiseok sends three questions marks and asks, “isn’t that suspicious?”
Jooyeon tells him it isn’t, then says, “easiest to lie if it’s close to the truth!!!!”
The saluting sticker Jiseok sends back makes Jooyeon snort which he then has to disguise as a cough when everyone in his vicinity turns to glare at him.
Later, back at his dorm, Jooyeon gets another message.
my boyfriend ❤️
meet me for lunch tomorrow?
Jooyeon very sternly says they can meet at 1pm and not a minute earlier - his Saturday lie-ins are an essential part of his routine that he is not willing to change - and Jiseok picks a burger place near campus that Jooyeon actually likes, luckily.
1
Jiseok is already outside when Jooyeon arrives, only three minutes late.
He waves, and he holds the door open for Jooyeon which makes Jooyeon feel kinda like a girl but he doesn’t hate it so it’s fine.
They order together and Jooyeon can see Jiseok judging his choice - plain bun, just the burger, no lettuce or vegetables or pickles or mustard - and he’s waiting for him to comment except Jiseok doesn’t say anything, just sneaks his phone up to the card reader faster than Jooyeon can and like that pays for both of them.
Jooyeon blinks, then says, “smooth.”
Jiseok winks at him, which is kind of crazy, and asks, “where do you wanna sit?”
There’s an empty table by the window, best for staring out at the people passing by. They sit opposite each other. The tables aren’t that wide and Jooyeon doesn’t want to kick Jiseok in the foot so he hooks his ankles around the legs of his chair and tells himself to sit still.
“Thanks,” Jooyeon says belatedly.
“Don’t worry about it. You can get it next time,” Jiseok smiles. “Besides, your empty bun didn’t cost much.”
Jooyeon sticks his tongue out.
“What’s next time?” he asks.
“Our second date,” Jiseok says, matter-of-fact.
Their order number is called out by a robotic voice and before Jooyeon can react Jiseok is jumping out of his seat, saying, “I got it!”
By the time he’s back, dropping a red plastic tray between them and almost sending fries flying everywhere, Jooyeon thinks he’s composed himself.
“Is this our first date?” he hears himself ask. He can’t look at Jiseok, suddenly, so he fixates on grabbing his burger and peeling the paper back.
“If you asked me out at the party,” Jiseok stops to take a huge bite of his own food, chews for a solid thirty seconds, then continues. “I figured we’d do something kinda soon.”
This is fair. Personally Jooyeon thinks if he had asked Jiseok out at the party that he would have attempted to get Jiseok into his bed that very same night, so the Saturday after isn’t that bad.
“Okay.”
Jooyeon eats his own food quite happily until something else occurs to him.
“Wait, ‘second date’?” he asks. “What do you mean?”
It’s quite impressive that Jiseok’s scathing look makes him feel stupid even when Jiseok’s mouth is stuffed full of fries.
“No one is going to believe us if we don’t actually go on dates,” Jiseok says once he’s swallowed his mouthful. “They’d just think we were lying.”
“We are lying,” Jooyeon points out dumbly.
“I’m going to be the most convincingly real fake-boyfriend you’ve ever had,” Jiseok says, voice set with determination.
Jooyeon is almost a little scared. Truthfully he hadn’t thought this far. He’d imagined them holding hands around campus, and maybe he’d carry Jiseok’s bag for him on the way to their shared class. There was a little part of him that pictured kissing Jiseok, all romantic and dipping him by the waist, in front of the rest of the group. And everyone would cheer and give them a prize.
He doesn’t bother telling Jiseok that he’s never had a fake-boyfriend before, let alone a real one. Or a girlfriend. It doesn’t matter.
“Okay,” he agrees again, and tries to mirror Jiseok’s attitude. They can totally do this. Everyone will believe them.
Jiseok takes a photo of Jooyeon eating a fry he holds out for him and he posts it on Instagram right there and then. No caption, he tags Jooyeon and says, “it’s good to be subtle.”
Jooyeon’s plan had been to just tell everyone they were dating and hope that that was good enough. Right now he’s really glad he picked Jiseok for this.
It’s not a very long date. They finish eating and get rid of their trash and head outside. Jooyeon lingers, unsure of the etiquette.
Jiseok doesn’t seem to be as troubled. He takes Jooyeon’s hand in both of his and holds it for a moment, for as long as it takes him to say, “pick something good for the second one, Jooyeon.”
He lets go all too soon and walks away, and Jooyeon stays right where he is until Jiseok is only a blurry figure at the other end of the street.
2
It’s not really a secret that Jooyeon doesn’t know what he’s doing. This is part - only part! - of the reason he’d thought fake-dating would be the easiest way to win this bet. He’d thought it would mean skipping all of the parts of dating that are unappealing to him.
But on Wednesday morning he puts on his favourite t-shirt and cleanest pair of jeans and sends Jiseok a message.
do you have a free afternoon
i know you do i already asked Gunil
do you want to come to guitar center with me
Luckily Jiseok replies within ten minutes, saving Jooyeon from fretting too much.
my boyfriend ❤️
yeah sure
That was easy. That was way easier than Jooyeon had expected it to be. Maybe he could have real-dated after all.
He drops by Jiseok’s dorm after midday and it’s Jiseok’s roommate, Seungmin, who opens the door.
Seungmin is the frattiest non-fratboy Jooyeon has ever met. It’s impressive, actually.
They’ve known each other for over a year and yet when he sees it’s Jooyeon he narrows his eyes and asks, “what are your intentions?”
“Huh?”
“With Jiseok,” Seungmin clarifies. He doesn’t stop glaring. “I heard you asked him out.”
Jooyeon nods, and says, “my intentions are to take him to Guitar Center.”
Seungmin seems surprised for a moment.
“Oh. Is that it?”
“Maybe dinner,” Jooyeon shrugs.
Seungmin’s eyes narrow again.
“So it’s a date?”
Internally Jooyeon cheers, because if it sounds like a date to Seungmin that means he’s done the right thing.
Externally he just nods again, trying his best to look serious and not like an excited child.
“Oh, come on,” Jiseok’s voice comes from the apartment. “Leave him alone, Seungminnie.”
Glaring makes way for a pout and Seungmin whines, “I’m protecting your virtue,” and then Jiseok pushes past him and slams the door shut in his face and grins up at Jooyeon.
“Let’s go before he remembers it locks from the inside,” Jiseok says.
He takes Jooyeon’s hand again, his right in Jooyeon’s left. Jooyeon feels instantly clammy but Jiseok doesn’t mention it so maybe it’s not noticeable.
They get the bus, and when Jiseok pays for his ticket he lets go of Jooyeon for a second. Jooyeon wipes his palm on his jeans frantically, and is glad he did because Jiseok twists their fingers together again once they sit down.
“So,” he says. “What makes this a date?”
“Uh. We’re doing it together?”
Jooyeon doesn’t mean for it to come out like a question.
“Fair,” Jiseok agrees, though. “Are you gonna buy me a guitar?”
Jooyeon almost faints at the thought. He’d winced at the bus fare.
“Nope.”
Jiseok squeezes his hand as he sighs and says, “terrible fake-boyfriend.”
“I’ll pay for dinner,” Jooyeon offers. He’d moved enough from his savings to cover that at least.
Jiseok snickers and says, “best fake-boyfriend I’ve ever had.”
“Have you had a lot?” Jooyeon asks. His hand is sweating again.
“You’re the first,” Jiseok says. “I hope you feel special.”
Jooyeon wants to ask about real-boyfriends next, but the bus journey isn’t that long and they’re pulling up to their stop before he can muster the courage.
They hold hands until they get inside and Jiseok breaks away to stare up at a guitar, acoustic and glossy-red wood. It’s the same colour as his hair. Jooyeon immediately wishes he could actually buy it for him.
The real goal in coming here was for Jooyeon to get some replacement strings for his bass, and to get a new strap since his last one is getting threadbare and threatening to snap.
One hour later, though, he’s sitting beside Jiseok on a bench and they’re both strumming at electrics that are so far out of their price range it’s criminal.
“Maybe I should get one,” Jooyeon muses. He can’t afford it in any universe, but it sounds so perfect. He could split his time, half for bass and half for this beautiful guitar.
“You should,” Jiseok says, because he has no interest in being a good influence. “Let’s drop out and start a band.”
He’s joking. He’s totally joking. Jooyeon’s heart leaps anyway because, yes, he does want to do that. He really does. He reckons Jiseok would be great at being in a band.
“Do we have to drop out to start a band?” he asks instead of saying yes please let’s go to the student office right now and tell them we’re never coming back.
That gets Jiseok to look up from his guitar for the first time in about forty five minutes, and he stares at Jooyeon for a second then says, “no, I guess not.”
“Sweet,” Jooyeon can’t help but grin, and he strums the guitar again.
Another hour or so later, Jiseok’s stomach makes a noise so loud that it can be heard over the bass Jooyeon is showing off on. He had had his eyes closed and he opens them only to catch Jiseok in the act of taking a photo of him, crouched down and squinting at his phone.
“Um,” Jiseok blushes. “For Instagram. And I’m hungry.”
Jooyeon is a really picky eater and for this reason he comes prepared: there’s a Korean place down the street, owned by an ahjumma who scolds him for leaving all the vegetables behind in a way that feels like his own mother would.
This time Jiseok is here to snag whatever banchan Jooyeon won’t touch, and he convinces Jooyeon to try a bite of an onion pancake that he otherwise wouldn’t have. It turns out to be tasty. Who knew?
They leave when they’re so full they can’t eat anymore, and Jooyeon pays, and they get the bus back together with no guitars in hand. Jooyeon has a new set of strings in his bag and no strap because they’d gotten far too distracted.
Only at night, right before he falls asleep, does Jooyeon check his notifications. He’s tagged in another post by Jiseok and the photos are far better than he had expected them to be. They took a selfie while eating, side by side, and Jooyeon’s mouth is full and his cheek is bulging and Jiseok is pulling a face that’s really not flattering. The photo from the shop, secretly taken, is different: the dramatic lights make Jooyeon look serious, kind of cool, and he always loves seeing himself with a bass in his lap.
He thinks about Jiseok’s face when he was caught taking it, and saves it to his own camera roll.
3
“I don’t feel well,” Jooyeon groans, dragged along by Jiseok’s grip on his sleeve.
Jiseok is small and he weaves through groups of people with ease, while Jooyeon trips over his own feet and almost sends about three different students flying with his backpack swinging all over the place.
“My assignment is due tonight!” Jiseok says, with more than a hint of panic in his voice.
“But mine isn’t,” Jooyeon continues to whinge even as he follows Jiseok. Jiseok isn’t that strong, after all.
It’s been more than a week since they went on their guitar shopping date. Jooyeon planned that one so he had figured it was Jiseok’s turn, and Jiseok hadn’t suggested anything. They text most days, inane chatter which Jooyeon values way too much, and they’d seen each other in class twice. Jooyeon had moved to sit by Jiseok then worried maybe that was overstepping; Jiseok had moved his bag out of the chair beside him so that Jooyeon could take it instead, and he’d smiled at him in a way that just had to be genuine.
At the end of the class they had hovered by the door for a moment, other students streaming past, and Jooyeon had wanted to ask if Jiseok was free. But he hadn’t, and Jiseok had said, “see you later!” and they hadn’t even held hands, not once.
So Jooyeon hadn’t really been expecting to be all but kidnapped this afternoon when he was making his way back to his dorm after his last lecture.
“I’m tired, too,” Jooyeon says when they reach the library and he can quicken his stride so that he’s next to Jiseok instead of trailing pathetically after him.
“I’ll get you a coffee,” Jiseok says absentmindedly, and he makes a sharp turn to duck into the cafe by the entrance.
Jooyeon does not like coffee.
Jiseok stands by his side, tapping his foot and checking the time on his phone every other second, while Jooyeon empties three packets of sugar into his takeaway cup.
“Okay, done,” Jooyeon declares. He sneaks an extra packet into his hoodie just in case it’s still too bitter and lets Jiseok drag him into the library proper, to a spare table that they commandeer with their backpacks and laptops and excessive amount of textbooks.
“How do you carry all of that around?” Jooyeon stares at the sheer volume of paper Jiseok has produced.
Jiseok shushes him.
“You can do whatever you want,” he whispers. “I just need to focus.”
It makes absolutely zero sense to Jooyeon why he has been brought here in that case but, sure, okay. He flips his laptop open and pops his earphones in and decides to watch an hour long video of a Nirvana live set from 1994.
Plateau has just started when Jooyeon’s foot gets nudged. He assumes it’s a mistake at first and shifts his leg to the side but then it happens again, more forcefully. When he looks up Jiseok is already looking at him, resting his chin in his hand and yawning.
“I’m taking a break,” he whispers across the table.
Jooyeon pauses his video and checks the time to see that it’s almost 7pm.
“You have ages,” he whispers back. “Can’t we go and eat?”
"No,” Jiseok shakes his head right away. “If we leave I won’t come back and then I’ll fail this class and my life will be over.”
“You’re more dramatic than me,” Jooyeon says, awed.
The corners of Jiseok’s mouth twitch up into a grin that he hides by dropping his face onto the table. He stretches his arms out above his head, throwing the tiniest most silent tantrum Jooyeon has ever witnessed.
And his hands are right there, within grabbing distance, so Jooyeon takes them both in his own. It stops Jiseok’s thrashing, and he isn’t looking so Jooyeon doesn’t have to worry about if he’s blushing too hard about it.
There are other students everywhere. Friday night, probably more than one has the same deadline as Jiseok. Jooyeon almost worries about PDA, but then he reasons that’s what they want with this. The whole point of fake-dating is the performance.
“Do thirty minutes more and then we’re getting dinner,” Jooyeon reasons, their fingers still tangled.
“But-”
“I’ll make you come back after,” Jooyeon says. “Promise.”
Jiseok is wary of heading too far off campus so they drop by the cafeteria and Jooyeon doesn’t let Jiseok leave until his plate is clear. He does as he’d said and shepherds Jiseok back to the library, too, and he sits opposite him once more and messes about on his laptop doing nothing much while Jiseok works.
At nine, Jiseok slams his own laptop shut and does a very quiet celebratory dance.
If Jooyeon laughs they’ll definitely get reprimanded so he has to bite his lip to keep it in.
“Done!” Jiseok smiles so wide that his cheeks bunch up. He looks tired, with heavy bags under his eyes and his hair mussed from how many times he’s raked his fingers through it the last few hours.
“Are we free now?” Jooyeon asks. He’s been itching to move for a while now, leg bouncing with restless energy, and he’s very much looking forward to collapsing into his bed and continuing to do exactly what he had been on his laptop on his phone instead.
They leave with a lot less energy than they had come in with. Jiseok now seems to be drooping under the weight of his textbooks.
Jooyeon should carry his bag for him, right? That’s the proper thing to do, surely.
“Here, let me,” he tries, and he gives it his best effort to scoop Jiseok’s bag onto his own shoulder suavely.
Except, “wow, this is really heavy,” Jooyeon lets out, and with the weight of his own mostly-empty bag he wobbles for a moment and wonders if he might have to give up.
“You don’t have to!” Jiseok worries, tired eyes wide and concerned.
Jooyeon is not a big guy but he can do this. He has to do this, because there are still plenty of other students out right now and if anyone sees him fail he will get a reputation for being a weak and unchivalrous boyfriend which just won’t do.
“No, it’s fine,” he nods as convincingly as he can. “Just… Let’s walk fast.”
Jiseok sniggers away the whole walk to his dorm, thankfully less than ten minutes but it feels a lot longer to Jooyeon.
He takes his bag back when they reach the door. Did this count as their third date? Jooyeon is thinking about rom-coms.
“Sorry,” Jiseok says, looking down at his feet. “Probably ruined your Friday, huh?”
“I mean,” Jooyeon starts and stops. “I wasn’t gonna go to the library. But it was nice.”
“We can go to a party next time,” Jiseok suggests.
But Jooyeon doesn’t really care for those. He goes because his friends do, because he’s part of the association, because sometimes Gunil lets him make the playlist. He almost never drinks - Halloween was an exception to the rule, and one he did not particularly enjoy - and spends most of his time there with the same group of people he already knows or trying to beat wasted students at beer pong.
He doesn’t say any of that. What he does say is, “or you could just come to my place,” and then they both stare at each other for a few long seconds.
Jiseok breaks the look with a laugh, scratches the back of his neck, and says, “what, do you make really good cocktails or something?”
“No, like,” Jooyeon feels like he’s floundering a little here, way out of his depth. Fake-flirting feels just as nerve-wracking as real-flirting. “I have a lot of video games.”
A knock coming from the inside of the apartment startles them both, and then Jiseok turns very red and smacks the door with the flat of his hand.
“Seungmin is being nosy,” he says. “I should go.”
It’s not even that late. And it’s Friday, so there are no classes tomorrow. Jooyeon figures that means Jiseok does not want to come over and game with him.
“Okay,” he agrees, taking a step back.
“I’ll see you next week, okay?”
This time it’s Jooyeon who walks away, but he does turn back once: when he’s at the end of the corridor, by the top of the stairs, he twists to look over his shoulder just to check that Jiseok has gone inside and that the door is closed behind him.
4
They see each other during the week, only in small bursts. In class where they can’t really chat, or on the way to different lectures with only enough time to wave as they pass by each other. On Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday their schedules line up to give them just enough time to meet at midday: Jooyeon joins Jiseok just once, then again, and then it’s been two weeks and they’ve had lunch six times.
The lunches aren’t dates. Jiseok’s friends are usually there, Seungmin and Jungsu, and Gunil comes by a few times. Jooyeon usually eats on his own because he’s picky and he knows it annoys people, and Hyeongjun prefers to eat alone, too; the table in their dorm is almost entirely unused. None of Jiseok’s friends make a big deal out of it, though, so Jooyeon relaxes and keeps coming back.
What they do make a big deal out of is Jooyeon and Jiseok dating.
The rules of the bet were hashed out after the party: you win if you’re in a relationship on the very last day of term; you lose if you aren’t, and you have to pay up twenty dollars. Gunil says that the money will go to the association. Jooyeon wishes it went to the winners, to him and Jiseok, but he can admit that he doesn’t think they’ll be the only ones in with a chance.
With money on the line they all get a little competitive. Jooyeon has been faced with his fair share of interrogations, random students accosting him on campus and asking him how long he and Jiseok have been together and who confessed first and when is Jiseok’s birthday, does he have any siblings, what’s his room number?
He’s answered them all well, he thinks. Surely no one can doubt them. It’s been four weeks since the party and they haven’t slipped up on their story once.
Jooyeon slides into the last seat at the table, on Jiseok’s right, with his lunch tray in his hands. Before he can even say hi, Seungmin has darted forward and stolen Jooyeon’s phone out of his pocket.
“Hey,” Jooyeon protests lazily, because he doesn’t have anything incriminating on there anyway. “Hi, Jiseokie.”
“What are you doing?” Jiseok frowns across the table at Seungmin who is tapping away, scrolling and searching.
“Looking for evidence,” Jungsu answers for him, eating his own lunch and not helping.
“Evidence of what?”
“That you guys are messing around,” Seungmin says. “Or you broke up already and you’re pretending for the bet.”
Jiseok snorts into his plate of food.
“That’s crazy,” Jooyeon says mildly. Really, he’s just hoping Seungmin doesn’t scroll too far back - their very first texts with each other had been about just that, about lying - but it seems that they’ve messaged a lot more than Jooyeon realised because Seungmin gives up and admits defeat.
Begrudgingly, he passes Jooyeon’s phone back and says, “you’re cute together, I guess.”
He’s left the screen on, showing messages from a few weeks ago. Jiseok had sent Jooyeon a selfie from one of his classes, taken from below and deeply unflattering. Jooyeon sent back a close-up shot of his nostrils.
Jiseok looks at the screen too and then he flushes a brilliant pink.
“I- The contact name,” he says weakly. He kicks Jooyeon under the table for good measure.
Of course. Jooyeon had never changed it from what he’d first picked, drunk and giggly on Halloween.
“What am I in yours?” he asks.
Jiseok gets even pinker somehow.
“Nothing,” he shakes his head. “I never saved your number.”
Jooyeon grins and tells him, “you’re so tsundere.”
“And you’re a nerd.”
“You’re more of a nerd-”
“I’m clever, I’m not a nerd!”
“-And so humble, too-”
While they’re arguing Jungsu and Seungmin leave.
The weekends are two days where Jooyeon doesn’t see Jiseok. Not that he couldn’t, if he wanted to. He could probably message him, ask if he wants to meet up, ask if they should plan another fake-date. It’s been a while, after all.
But Jooyeon has no ideas, and it makes him feel nervous, and it’s easier to just stay in his dorm and play games with Hyeongjun until 2am.
Sunday night, so early it’s actually Monday, Jooyeon sits bolt upright in bed. What is he doing? He’s being a bad fake-boyfriend, that’s for sure. Leaving it up to Jiseok to come up with something, leaving it up to Jiseok to post on Instagram and to tell his friends they’re dating. Jooyeon needs to step up. There are three more weeks left of the semester, one of which will be taken up by exams. He can’t be slacking now.
On Thursday morning he wakes up early by his standards, and when he gets dressed he tries to make sure he looks nice. Jeans that aren’t ripped or dirty, check. A t-shirt without a skull on the front, check. A jacket that his mom approves of, check.
Without a morning class, Jooyeon tends to arrive on campus for lunch with Jiseok and then head off to his afternoon seminar. Today, the routine changes so that he can drop by a shop on his way in and beg the assistant there to please help him, please, he can’t tip but he’ll be ever so grateful.
Once he’s waiting outside Jiseok’s lecture hall, he gets a little anxious. It’s all very public. People are going to see. People are going to look, and watch, and bear witness to his very amateurish attempt.
Too late to back out, though. Jooyeon stands in the hallway, shifting from foot to foot, and he hears footsteps from inside the hall and the door creaks open with the first students to leave.
He doesn’t recognise them, and they shoot him odd looks but keep moving.
Two girls Jooyeon does know and he waves awkwardly, a few guys he’s seen around but doesn’t know by name, and then Jiseok exits and spots Jooyeon and freezes. Someone bumps into his back. He’s causing traffic.
“Hi,” Jooyeon says, extremely awkwardly, and he thrusts his hand out so that the bouquet he’s holding is right under Jiseok’s nose.
“Um.”
Behind Jiseok someone very pointedly clears their throat and so Jooyeon grabs him by the wrist and pulls him to the side so that they aren’t being total assholes.
“Happy anniversary!” Jooyeon says. His grin is starting to hurt his cheeks, fueled by sheer embarrassment. Can Jiseok say something, please?
“Is that today?”
“Well,” Jooyeon can feel himself setting up for a ramble but he can’t help it. “I don’t know. There’s no 31st this month. But it’s been four weeks since the party. So a month. Happy one month anniversary.”
A group of girls walk past, laughing behind their hands, and Jooyeon hears someone say, “that’s so sweet.”
Awesome. His social credit might improve.
More importantly, though, Jiseok finally stops looking so confused and he breaks into a toothy smile.
“I feel bad that I didn’t get you anything,” he says, biting his lip like he’s trying not to laugh.
“You should,” Jooyeon puts on his best serious face and nods. “These flowers were really expensive.”
“I’ll take good care of them,” Jiseok promises. He takes the bouquet from Jooyeon. Their fingers brush. “Thank you.”
God, he sounds so earnest. Jooyeon was joking. Part-joking. Fake-joking? He’s losing track. He’s so happy that Jiseok looks pleased - ducking his head to smell one of the flowers, pink in the face to match the blooms the florist had picked out - that he feels bold enough to slip his hand into Jiseok’s and squeeze their fingers together.
After lunch, over which Jungsu and Seungmin and Gunil tease them both mercilessly, Jooyeon goes to own class. Once that’s over, he gets dinner alone in the cafeteria. While he eats he opens his own Instagram, so rarely used his feed might as well have tumbleweeds rolling across it, and posts a photo he took of the bouquet in Jiseok’s hands. He doesn’t know what to caption it so he puts every pink emoji he can find, and he tags Jiseok’s account.
5
Exams put a bit of a hold on their shenanigans. They still meet for lunch when they can but more often than not Jiseok will ditch as soon as he’s scarfed his food down or Jooyeon will have to run to make it to his next exam.
It’s a shame, not because of the bet but because Jiseok has kind of become one of Jooyeon’s best friends ever. The kind of friend he’d always hoped to make in college, his perfect match, someone he has so much in common with it’s strange they didn’t know each other sooner.
They text most days, even if a lot of it is just asking how this or that final went. Jooyeon spends most of his time in his dorm with Hyeongjun, both of them staring into textbooks until their eyes hurt. He and Hyeongjun alternate snack runs and Jooyeon’s already poor diet deteriorates further.
The end of semester looms closer, and with it the Asian-American Association party. Jooyeon has skipped a few of the parties, both this semester and last year, but this is one that he can’t miss for anything. He and Jiseok will get to show off that they didn’t lose the bet, and then they can pretend to amicably break up over Christmas and start the New Year as real friends rather than fake-boyfriends.
To be honest, Jooyeon didn’t think through the ramifications of this. If they tell their friends it was fake they’ll surely be forced to pay up for cheating, so they’ll have to keep up the façade for longer than they had planned. Jooyeon lies, for fun and to annoy, but he has to admit he feels a bit of guilt in the pit of his stomach about that. It’s fine: he’ll own up to it in a few years when they’ve forgotten the money aspect. Besides, he’ll have graduated by then and twenty dollars will be, like, pocket change.
The party is the last big charade, though. The last time they’ll call it a date, the last time everyone will look at them and assume “couple”.
It’s not like it’s a huge event but it’s fun to have an excuse to dress up, and the invitations that go out by email call it black-tie. Jooyeon has a suit his father paid for when he went to prom in high school, and it’s only a little short in the legs but still fits most everywhere else so it’ll do. With a white shirt underneath and his cleanest pair of Vans he thinks it’s not too bad.
Jooyeon insists on meeting Jiseok at his dorm, and he says it’s because it’s the gentlemanly thing to do: really it’s because he can’t remember how to do his own tie.
“Come in, then,” Seungmin greets when he answers the door, already rushing away to get ready himself.
Jiseok is slouched on the couch even though Seungmin calls out, “don’t wrinkle your jacket!” as he sprints past.
Jooyeon’s jacket is already kind of wrinkled so he decides to drop down next to Jiseok.
“No tie?” Jiseok immediately asks, sliding his phone into his pocket.
“I have one!” Jooyeon nods. “I just forgot how to make it look pretty.”
Jiseok’s laugh is so contagious, loud and bright, and even when he’s laughing at Jooyeon it’s hard to take offense. Especially when he follows up with, “I’ll do it for you, idiot.”
This only strikes Jooyeon as an issue when they’ve turned to face each other and Jiseok is slinging the tie around Jooyeon’s neck and leaning in close, closer, peering at the fabric as he works to knot it nicely and Jooyeon suddenly can’t breath in. He can smell Jiseok’s shampoo. Jiseok’s knuckles brush against Jooyeon’s neck when he straightens his collar. Jooyeon wants to kiss him.
Jooyeon wants to kiss him.
Not fake-kiss, not kiss-in-front-of-an-audience.
“Get a room,” Seungmin shouts, coming back out of the bathroom with impeccably styled hair.
“We had one,” Jiseok snipes back, hands still resting on Jooyeon’s chest.
“Oh, my God,” Jooyeon blurts out, glad that his hair is long enough to cover his red ears.
He needs to get a hold of himself. This is no big deal- One more night, just one- Everyone probably wants to kiss Jiseok, right, because he’s beautiful and charming and lovely, and so Jooyeon wanting to as well is nothing to be weird about.
They make it to the party in one piece, and Jooyeon is calm and normal. Totally normal. He’s normal, until they walk through the door and it’s busy and crowded and Jiseok’s hand slides into his easy as that, practiced and smooth. They’ve held hands a lot by now, Jooyeon’s one suggestion on that first night they talked about this. He regrets it only because he’s grown used to it, and this is the last time they’ll ever have the reason.
Plastic flutes of champagne are being given out and Jooyeon waves away any offered to him; to his side Jiseok does the same.
“You can drink,” Jooyeon leans down to whisper into his ear. “I don’t mind.”
Jiseok has to tiptoe to reach Jooyeon’s level and whisper back, “don’t feel like it.”
God, on second thought maybe Jooyeon could use some liquid courage.
With joined hands they mingle aimlessly, and Jooyeon’s palm sweats and he feels weirdly exposed with his hair pushed off his forehead the way Hyeongjun had insisted he style it. His other hand itches for something to hold but he really doesn’t want to drink, he wants to keep a clear head.
To his side Jiseok chats away and smiles happily and everyone here is wearing black so it’s not like they’re even matching but Jooyeon still feels a thrill run down his spine seeing them both in tuxedos. Jiseok’s is better than Jooyeon’s, fits him too flatteringly, and he’s wearing shoes with a bit of a thick sole which lessens their height difference by a centimetre or so. He’d dyed his hair back to black a week or so ago, once his roots had grown out too much with the red, and Jooyeon likes it most like this. Natural, haircut a little overdue, curling around his ears and falling into his eyes.
If anyone notices that Jooyeon isn’t participating in the conversation they don’t say anything, and he spends a good fifteen minutes staring at Jiseok head to toe and wondering if there’s a way they can just not fake-break up. If they never break up, they could fake-date forever. Jooyeon lifts his hand and brushes Jiseok’s bangs out of his face and Jiseok doesn’t even speak, just lets him do it and smiles up at him. Fake-dating is great; fake-dating would be enough if Jooyeon can keep doing things like this.
They’ve booked one of the meeting rooms on campus for this party and all of the small tables have been moved out, leaving one big space and a low stage at the far end. With everyone clustered around standing, the heads of the Association take the stage, Gunil among them.
The introduction is kind of a bore. Jooyeon zones out, fiddles with a loose thread inside his blazer pocket, tangles his and Jiseok’s fingers together and taps out the rhythm of the last bassline he taught himself.
Well done on the semester, keep it up, good luck to anyone with exams left - Jooyeon only starts listening when Gunil is the one at the microphone ready to wrap it all up.
“I’m sure plenty of you wanted to know the outcome of the Halloween bet,” he says, pulling out his phone to read off his notes app. “We had thirty-two people agree to participate.”
There are a few whoops and cheers. Jooyeon thinks, this is the end.
“Seventeen of those failed,” Gunil announces. “So we raised 340 dollars!”
Clapping ensues. Jooyeon can’t clap because he only has one hand free.
“The money will be used to fund any events we run next semester.”
More clapping. Jooyeon smacks his own thigh just to join in. He doesn’t really want to be here.
“Hey,” he ducks in close to Jiseok, hoping he won’t be overheard. “Do you wanna ditch?”
He doesn’t have high hopes: Jiseok likes these kinds of things, goes to all of them, has dozens of friends and looks more than happy in his suit and tie in this busy room.
“Yeah,” he says, though, instantly. “Let’s go.”
Jooyeon lets out a laugh that startles even himself, and Jiseok tightens his grip on Jooyeon’s hand and turns towards the exit.
+1
It’s Friday, the campus is still bustling with last-minute crammers and other societies and groups holding events. They seem to be the only ones in black tie, though, and Jooyeon’s heart races as they run across the lawn in their neatest shoes with their ties trailing through the air behind them.
Jiseok is grinning like a mad-man, he hasn’t let go of Jooyeon’s hand, the bet is over but he’s still here.
“Why are we running?” Jooyeon asks, panting.
Jiseok only shrugs and laughs and pulls Jooyeon to keep up with him. It feels like they’re eloping, Jooyeon thinks and doesn’t say.
“Where do you live, then?” Jiseok asks when they’re clear of the library and there are less and less people around.
“I- Turn left,” Jooyeon feels helpless to stop him. There’s dirty laundry on his floor and he hasn’t vacuumed in a while, but Hyeongjun is still at the party. Empty dorm.
Jooyeon takes over, showing Jiseok the way, and through it all their hands stay together.
They all but crash through the building doors, and Jooyeon refuses to run up the stairs to the third floor. They take the lift, red-faced and breathing hard, and Jiseok’s smile is contagious. His energy is contagious. Jooyeon doesn’t want him to go; would it be unethical to lock the door behind them and hide the key?
“Ignore the mess,” Jooyeon says when he shows Jiseok into his place, flicking the light on and extremely relieved that he and Hyeongjun had cleared away all their plates and bowls and drinks yesterday.
“Mine’s worse,” Jiseok snickers. He kicks his shoes off and loosens his tie with one hand and Jooyeon’s throat feels dry and tight.
It’s only polite to offer a guest a drink. They hadn’t had anything at the party and no food either. Jooyeon should ask if Jiseok wants anything. He should be normal, and offer to put on a movie or pull up a multiplayer game.
He’s stopped in his tracks by Jiseok, who pulls their hands apart but doesn’t move away. He moves in closer, and without his shoes on he’s that inch shorter again. He takes hold of Jooyeon’s tie and loosens it for him, and stands so close that Jooyeon could probably count his eyelashes. Just like earlier, barely two hours ago, Jooyeon wants to kiss him.
“Why did you look so disappointed when Gunil said what the money was for?” Jiseok asks, speaking quietly even though they’re the only ones here.
It’s a silly thought, a silly wish, but Jooyeon has done too much lying over the last semester and he doesn’t want to start doing it to Jiseok, too.
“I wanted to buy you that guitar,” he admits, matching Jiseok’s volume.
Jiseok’s looks truly surprised like he had expected a joke.
“Oh,” he says, then, “Jooyeonie.”
With fingers that shake just a little, Jiseok reaches up and undoes the top button of Jooyeon’s shirt.
“Please don’t break up with me,” Jooyeon blurts out.
He can’t help it. He has to say it. If he doesn’t at least ask he thinks he’ll regret it forever.
Jiseok undoes another button, and he says, “I wasn’t planning on it.”
His whole body sags with relief even as his heart threatens to burst out of his chest.
“Can this be our first date?” Jooyeon asks. He’s speaking too fast, too eagerly, accent all over the place. “Because I want to kiss you and-”
Jiseok is smiling when their lips meet, just as wide as Jooyeon is, and it’s mostly teeth and it doesn’t matter because Jooyeon might just have managed to turn his fake-boyfriend into his real-boyfriend.
“I really like you,” Jooyeon says into the space between them. “Jiseokie, I like you a lot.”
Their next kiss is better, slower and deeper, enough to make Jooyeon’s knees weak.
Jiseok is a mind-reader, and he says, “let’s sit down.”
This is the first time Jooyeon has brought a boy home. Actually, he’d never brought a girl home either. So he sits on the couch and doesn’t expect Jiseok to slide into his lap, kneeling over him and cradling Jooyeon’s jaw in his hands and kissing him more.
Jooyeon wriggles out of his blazer, all too hot, and Jiseok does the same without ever pulling away. He licks into Jooyeon’s mouth, hot and wet and overwhelming, and when Jooyeon puts his arms around his waist Jiseok makes a pleased sound that Jooyeon swears he can taste.
There are far more important things to be doing right now but Jooyeon finds himself asking, “what’s my contact in your phone?”
Jiseok’s laugh is one of disbelief.
“It’s nothing,” he says. “Seriously. Lee Jooyeon. That’s it.”
“Why wouldn’t you show me?” he asks next. It’s paining him to not be kissing Jiseok anymore, though, so he presses a chaste one to the corner of Jiseok’s lips, his cheek, his jawline.
Jiseok bites his lip, takes a breath, and admits, “not because of that. Just, I got your number a while ago. Last year. From Jungsu.”
“But we never texted until-”
“I know,” Jiseok cuts him off. “I chickened out.”
He’s all pink, sitting in Jooyeon’s lap and telling Jooyeon things that make his head spin. All those times Jooyeon had looked in Jiseok’s direction, maybe he’d only just missed Jiseok looking back.
Better late than never, Jooyeon thinks. Life’s too short for regrets.
“I’m really glad you stabbed me on Halloween,” Jooyeon says instead of any of the wise mottos that apply.
“Yeah. Me, too,” Jiseok says. It’s the closest he’s come to saying that he likes Jooyeon back.
Neither of them are drunk. Jooyeon lends Jiseok a t-shirt, more comfortable than the suit he’s in, and they both get changed and into Jooyeon’s bed. The idea is to watch something: Jooyeon pulls up a horror movie he’s been putting off watching, not wanting to do it alone, and promptly forgets to even look at the screen when Jiseok is beside him with bare legs touching his under the covers and hands that wander almost too brazenly.
“Can we stay together until the end of next semester?” Jooyeon murmurs, sliding his own hand past the hem of Jiseok’s borrowed shirt.
Jiseok laughs and says, “maybe.”
With fingers on Jooyeon’s chin, the lightest touch, he brings their lips together once, twice, soft and gentle.
“And the next,” he says. “And the one after that, and the one after that, and-”