Archive of Our Own

The scent of buttered popcorn lingered in the air, mixing with faint traces of expensive colognes and the static buzz of the TV. It was late afternoon, literally just after class, it was also the kind of lazy hour that made time slow down with the sunlight spilling through the wide glass windows of Sunghoon’s condominium, turning the chaos of his living room into something almost cinematic.

Jungwon, Sunoo, and Ni-ki were locked in yet another round of a 5-man game, both yelling like it was a game of life or death. Jake was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a slice of pizza in one hand, cheering for whoever was losing just to stir up trouble and clearly trying not to fall asleep.

And on the sofa,comfortably stretched out, one leg tucked under a cushion, laying like a royalty, was Jay. His hair was slightly messy, his glasses sliding down his nose as he scrolled through Sunghoon’s phone, completely unbothered. The sight was so familiar it almost didn’t register to Sunghoon anymore — Jay in Sunghoon's hoodie, on his couch, using his stuff, like it was his own home.

From the kitchen counter, Sunghoon leaned back against the marble edge, arms crossed, quietly watching the scene unfold. Beside him, Heeseung nursed a can of soda, following his gaze with a lazy grin.

“Your place turns like a frat house every time we hang out, it's kinda embarrassing though” Heeseung muttered.

Sunghoon chuckled softly. “You make it sound like I had a choice.”

Heeseung glanced toward the couch. “You didn’t, because you always let him in,” he said, tipping his chin toward Jay.

Sunghoon didn’t answer, just sipped his drink, eyes flicking back to the sofa. Jay was laughing at something Ni-ki said, his shoulders shaking, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that easy, open way that always managed to get under Sunghoon’s skin.

Heeseung’s smirk deepened. “So, how was Singapore?”

“Hmm?” eyes still remaining in Jay.

“The trip,” Heeseung said, voice casual but laced with meaning. “You and Jay. Heard it was just the two of you. F1, fancy hotels, late-night food runs—romantic, huh?”

Sunghoon scoffed. “It wasn’t romantic. It was just a race, hyung.”

“Uh-huh,” Heeseung drawled, clearly unconvinced. “So, you really treated him like a brother, then?”

Sunghoon shot him what you would call the look. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Heeseung said, leaning an elbow on the counter, “Jay’s parents trust you to look after their son. And I’m just wondering if you did that like a responsible friend…” He paused, grin sharp. “…or if you looked after him like someone who’s already halfway gone.”

Sunghoon’s jaw tightened. He turned away, pretending to check the sink. “You’re just clearly imagining things.”

Heeseung laughed quietly. “Am I?”

Sunghoon didn’t answer. The noise from the living room filled the space, Jay’s voice again, teasing Jake, soft and familiar. The sound made something in his chest twist.

Heeseung followed his line of sight, watching the way Sunghoon’s expression softened without him realizing. “You’re not subtle, you know.”

Sunghoon finally looked at him, eyebrows drawn together. “I don’t—”

“—like him?” Heeseung finished easily. “Please. You’ve been staring at him for the past five minutes like he’s about to disappear if you blink.”

Sunghoon exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “He’s… Jay. What do you want me to say?”

“That you’re screwed,” Heeseung said, grinning. “Because I know you, Hoon. Once you start feeling something, you’re terrible at hiding it. And Jay’s not dumb.”

Sunghoon’s gaze flicked back to the living room again. Jay had switched to the other side of the sofa, now half-lying down, holding the phone above his face with one hand, the other resting lazily on his stomach. The hoodie that he was wearing had ridden up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin, and Sunghoon immediately looked away, jaw clenching.

Heeseung caught it, of course he did. Heeseung always caught everything.

“So,” Heeseung continued, voice lower now, “are you planning to tell him? Or just keep playing the good friend until someone else does?”

Sunghoon stared down at the countertop, tracing the rim of his soda can with his thumb. “It’s not that simple, hyung.”

“It never is,” Heeseung said gently. “But at least admit it — you like him.”

The silence between them stretched, filled only by the muffled chaos of the others arguing over the game.

Finally, Sunghoon murmured, “Yeah. I do.”

Heeseung’s teasing smile softened into something closer to understanding. “Then you better figure out what to do before Jay figures it out for you.”

Before Sunghoon could reply, Jay’s voice called out from the couch.
“Sunghoon-ah! What’s your passcode again? I forgot.”

Heeseung nearly choked on his drink from laughter. “See? He’s too comfortable. You’re doomed.”

Sunghoon groaned, dragging a hand down his face before calling back, “It’s the same as before! Don’t check my photos!”

“I already did!” Jay replied, grinning.

Laughter broke out from the others again, and Sunghoon could only shake his head — cheeks warming, heart traitorously light.

Heeseung nudged him with a knowing smirk. “Brother, huh?”

Sunghoon didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

Because from the way Jay’s laughter echoed through the room, soft and bright and his, the word brother didn’t even come close.

On that Monday, the morning sun hit a little too bright for someone who’d gone to bed late.

Jay stifled a yawn as he trudged across Riverfield’s courtyard, one hand clutching his coffee, the other lazily swiping through his notifications. The campus was already buzzing with other students scattered across the stone benches, groups chatting under trees, the air thick with the start-of-semester energy.

Sunghoon walked beside him, posture as straight as always, flight bag slung neatly over his shoulder. His dress shirt was crisp, tie slightly loosened, hair brushed back, very effortless, composed. Jay hated that he looked that put-together before 9 a.m.

“You look too awake,” Jay muttered, taking another sip of coffee.

“And you look like you haven’t slept,” Sunghoon countered.

“I didn’t. Ni-ki sent me memes until two.”

Sunghoon hummed, hiding a smile. “You could’ve muted him.”

Jay glanced at him with mock offense. “And ruin our bond? Never.”

They reached the main building steps just as someone called Jay’s name.

“Jongseong-ah?”

Jay turned and froze.

A tall figure stood by the student affairs board, all calm posture and clean lines, familiar in a way that tugged at old memories. Too familiar.

“Soobin hyung?” Jay blinked, momentarily thrown.

Sunghoon slowed beside him, brows furrowing slightly.

Soobin smiled, that polite, warm curve that looked straight out of a family photo album. “Wow, you actually recognized me. It’s been, what, three years?”

Jay laughed, still half in disbelief. “More like four. You—wait, what are you doing here?”

“Transferred last week,” Soobin said easily, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag. “Riverfield offered a better research program. I didn’t know you studied here until your mom mentioned it.”

At that, Sunghoon’s gaze flickered. His mom?

Jay scratched the back of his neck, smiling awkwardly. “Right… I forgot you two talked sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” Soobin chuckled. “She practically told me to look after you while I’m here.”

The words were light, teasing, but they landed differently in Sunghoon’s chest, too close to Heeseung’s joke from the night before.

Jay groaned. “Of course she did. She probably sent you a full guide on how to babysit me.”

Soobin grinned. “Not exactly. But she did say something about you never eating breakfast.” He handed him a neatly wrapped sandwich. “So, I came prepared.”

Jay blinked, startled. “You made this?”

“Yeah,” Soobin said simply. “Old habits.”

Jay hesitated, then smiled, genuine, small. “Thanks, hyung. You didn’t have to though.”

Sunghoon’s jaw flexed, though he kept his expression neutral.

“Anyway,” Soobin continued, glancing between them, “you heading to class? Maybe I’ll walk with you.”

Jay nodded without thinking. “Sure—”

But Sunghoon cut in smoothly, “We’ve got different buildings.”

Jay glanced at him, caught off guard. “We do?”

“You have psych in the East Wing. I have an aviation lab near the field,” Sunghoon said evenly, eyes still on Soobin. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Right,” Jay murmured.

Soobin smiled good-naturedly. “Guess it’s just us then.”

As Jay fell into step beside Soobin, Sunghoon watched them go, the way Soobin matched his pace to Jay’s, easy and natural. The way Jay laughed without thinking.

He wasn’t jealous, well at least that’s what he told himself. He was just… watching.

But even he couldn’t deny that it burned, just a little, seeing someone else slip so seamlessly into a space that had always felt like his.

And within that week, something was about to change, it is more like a setup or perhaps a public defamation between the two.

The coffee shop near Riverfield had become a second home for Sunghoon and Heeseung, a place of quiet background music, half-finished notes, and the steady hiss of the espresso machine. Late afternoon sunlight spilled through the tall windows, catching the faint swirl of steam rising from their mugs.

Sunghoon sat near the corner, a stack of aviation manuals open in front of him, pen tapping lightly against the table. Across from him, Heeseung was hunched over his laptop, glasses slipping down his nose as he typed something with alarming speed.

For a while, the silence between them was easy, the comfortable kind that didn’t need words.

Then the door burst open with the sound of a bell, and Jay walked in.

Disheveled. Slightly out of breath. The kind of entrance that made people look up for a second before pretending they hadn’t.

“Speaking of the devil,” Heeseung muttered, glancing up.

Jay spotted them instantly and made a beeline for their table. “You guys—” he started, voice full of exasperation. “You guys will not believe what’s happening to me right now.”

He dropped into the empty chair beside Sunghoon, immediately stealing a sip from his drink without asking.

“Hello to you too,” Sunghoon said dryly.

Jay ignored him, running both hands through his hair. “It’s Soobin hyung, damn. He’s, God, he’s too nice.”

Heeseung smirked, leaning back in his seat. “That’s a problem?”

“Yes!” Jay groaned. “Because he’s nice and he’s trying to ask me out. Every day. Consistently. He brought me breakfast again this morning, and when I told him I’m not really looking to date, he said he’d wait until I am.”

He slumped forward, head buried in his arms. “I can’t deal with this kind of sincerity before finals.”

Heeseung closed his laptop, lips twitching. “Soobin, huh? The family friend? The one your mom likes?”

Jay made a muffled noise. “My mom likes him as a friend, don't make it weird.”

Sunghoon tried to keep his voice even. “Did you tell him clearly you’re not interested?”

“I did!” Jay said, lifting his head. “But he’s so gentle about it. Like, how do you reject someone who looks like he’d still text you good luck before your exam even after you turn him down?”

Heeseung let out a short laugh. “Maybe he’s just built differently.”

Jay groaned again. “He’s built to ruin my peace, that’s what.”

Sunghoon’s mouth twitched, half amusement, half something he couldn’t quite name. “So what are you gonna do?”

Jay hesitated, glancing between them. “That’s the thing… I don’t know. I need him to stop thinking I’m available without me being a jerk about it.”

Heeseung’s grin widened slowly, eyes glinting with mischief. “You could just pretend to be dating someone.”

Jay blinked. “What?”

“As cliché as it sounds, it is a classic move,” Heeseung said with mock seriousness. “Fake relationship. Then announce you’re taken even though you already told the guy you weren't interested in relationships, then let the poor guy back off gracefully. Works every time.”

Jay frowned. “That’s so… juvenile as shit.”

“But effective,” Heeseung countered. “Unless you’d rather ghost him forever, which seems very un-Jay-like.”

Jay sighed. “I just—ughh, maybe if I fake it for a while he’ll get the hint…” He paused, eyes shifting, thoughtful. Then they landed on Sunghoon.

“No,” Sunghoon said immediately, sensing it before it was said.

Jay straightened and even lifted both of his hands. “I didn’t even say anything yet.”

“You were about to,” Sunghoon replied.

Heeseung’s smirk was already forming. “Oh, this is perfect.”

Jay leaned toward Sunghoon, clasping his hands together dramatically. “Please, Hoon. Just for a few days. Until he stops.”

Sunghoon furrowed his brows, but his heart gave a traitorous thud at the sound of please. “Jay—”

“I swear it’ll be simple,” Jay continued quickly. “You don’t have to actually do anything weird. Just… you know. Let people see us together. You’re already around me half the time, so it won’t even look fake.”

“Jay-ah,” Sunghoon said again, voice lower this time, “do you even realize what you’re asking?”

Jay tilted his head, genuinely confused. “Yeah. To help me out.”

Heeseung, meanwhile, looked like he was watching his favorite drama unfold in real time. “Oh, come on, Hoon,” he drawled. “You’d be doing the universe a favor. Besides, who is better than you? Everyone already assumes you’re joined at the hip.”

Sunghoon shot him a glare. “Not helping.”

Jay leaned closer, eyes soft in that way that always undid him. “I’d do the same for you if it were reversed, you know that.”

Sunghoon exhaled slowly. He couldn’t look at him, not when Jay’s expression was that earnest, that unguarded, pouting like a child that was like asking for a piece of candy. Because if he did look at him, he’d give himself away.

Heeseung nudged his coffee cup closer with a grin. “Tick-tock toe, lover boy.”

Sunghoon ignored him, jaw tightening. “Fine,” he muttered at last.

Jay’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon said, tone clipped. “But we’re setting boundaries. Clear ones.”

Jay beamed, the stress lifting from his shoulders instantly. “You’re the best. Seriously, I owe you—”

“Don’t,” Sunghoon interrupted quietly.

The brightness in Jay’s smile dimmed just a fraction. “Oh… okay.”

Heeseung whistled low under his breath, clearly sensing the shift. “This is gonna be fun,” he said, leaning back with a smirk. “A fake relationship with real emotional damage. My favorite genre.”

Sunghoon shot him another look. “Heeseung hyung.”

“What?” Heeseung lifted his hands innocently. “I’m just saying, good luck pretending when everyone already thinks it’s real.”

Jay rolled his eyes. “You’re enjoying this too much hyung.”

Heeseung grinned. “Of course, I absolutely am.”

And as Jay pulled out his planner, excitedly babbling about how they should “plan the story,” Sunghoon only half listened, because beneath the table, his hand had curled into a fist, trying to hold together what felt like his heart slowly coming undone.

The morning sun shines lazily over Riverfield University, painting the pathways gold as students drift in and out of buildings. The quad buzzed with the usual noise, chatter, laughter, the faint thud of sneakers on concrete.

In the middle of it, Jay and Sunghoon walked side by side, the picture of casual ease, well at least that’s how it looked.

Sunghoon had Jay’s bag slung over one shoulder, as he always did. It wasn’t new that he'd been doing it long before this “fake dating” thing started, but now, people noticed.

“Dude, you don’t have to carry it,” Jay muttered, though his tone lacked any real protest.

“I always carry it,” Sunghoon replied simply, adjusting the strap.

“Yeah, but now people are going to think you’re—”

Sunghoon cut him a sidelong glance, one brow raised. “Your boyfriend?”

Jay faltered, blinking at him. “...Right. That.”

A few students nearby glanced their way, whispering, smiling, maybe even snapping photos. Jay tried to act normal, but his cheeks were faintly pink.

Heeseung’s words from the night before echoed in Sunghoon’s mind: ‘Good luck pretending when everyone already thinks it’s real.’

Jay, oblivious to the chaos he caused in Sunghoon’s chest, kept walking, swinging his coffee cup between his fingers. “Soobin’s in my 10 a.m. class today,” he said absently. “I feel bad, you know? He’s being really chill about the whole thing, but it’s still awkward.”

Sunghoon’s grip on the bag tightened just slightly. “He should be chill. You told him you’re seeing someone.”

Jay looked at him, brows drawing together. “I mean, yeah, but still. He’s a nice guy, Hoon.”

Sunghoon didn’t answer. He just gave a small hum, eyes fixed ahead.

They reached the courtyard fountain where a few familiar faces were hanging out, Jake, Ni-ki, and Jungwon among them.

Jake was the first to notice them. “Look who’s here, Riverfield’s newest power couple!” he called out, grinning ear to ear.

Jay groaned. “Jake, not you too.”

“Oh, come on, you two are practically glowing,” Jake teased. “Sunghoon, you’re carrying his bag again? That’s peak boyfriend energy.”

Ni-ki leaned back against the bench. “They’ve been like that since before the announcement. It’s not even fake, it's just official now.”

Jay shot them both an unimpressed look. “You’re all so dramatic.”

Sunghoon only smiled faintly, but inside, every casual word from his friends stung with truth. If only it were official.

Then, as if on cue, Soobin appeared from the direction of the Arts Building. He was tall, easy-going, his uniform sleeves neatly rolled up, a backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Jay,” he called, smiling.

Jay perked up immediately, friendly as ever. “Hey, Soobin!”

He stepped forward half a pace, but Sunghoon instinctively reached out, a quiet, almost unconscious gesture, fingers curling around Jay’s wrist.

Jay froze, glancing down at the contact before looking back up at him. “Oh. Right.”

Soobin slowed a little as he approached, eyes flicking from their joined hands to the bag Sunghoon was holding. His smile didn’t falter, but there was something softer, almost resigned in it.

“Morning,” Soobin said politely.

“Morning,” Jay replied, tone light, like nothing was strange at all.

Sunghoon gave a curt nod. “Hey.”

There was a brief silence — the kind that seemed to hum between them. Then Soobin gave a small smile, backing away. “I’ll see you in class, Jay.”

“Yeah, see you,” Jay said, and Soobin walked off, his figure swallowed by the crowd.

Jay exhaled, shoulders relaxing. “That wasn’t too awkward, right?”

Sunghoon didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just handed Jay his drink instead. “You’re overthinking it.”

Jay took it, sipping quietly. “Thanks.”

He smiled at him then — one of those easy, sunshine smiles that always reached his eyes. “You’re really good at this fake dating thing, you know.”

Sunghoon’s throat tightened. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Guess I am.”

Jay didn’t notice the tremor in his voice. He just laughed, bumping his shoulder lightly against Sunghoon’s. “Best fake boyfriend ever.”

Sunghoon managed a smile. But as they started walking again, the words hung in his head longer than they should have — fake boyfriend.

And it was then he realized: every time Jay called it fake, it chipped away at the line he’d been fighting to keep between pretending and wanting.

The restaurant was all polished marble and soft lighting, the kind of place that made even the most chaotic friend group look civilized. It had been Heeseung’s idea, something about “treating themselves after surviving midterms.”

They filled a table near the window, menus spread out, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses weaving through their chatter.

Jake whistled low, flipping through the menu. “We’re actually eating real food tonight. No microwaves, no cup noodles, no takeouts, well now look at us.”

Sunoo rolled his eyes. “Bare minimum behavior.”

Ni-ki grinned. “Let him have his moment, Sunoo.”

Then the door opened, and Jay strolled in — crisp shirt, sleeves rolled up, messenger bag slung casually over his shoulder. His presence was so easy, like he belonged anywhere.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, flashing a grin. “Traffic was brutal.”

Sunghoon looked up immediately. “You made it.”

“Obviously.” Jay walked straight to him, sliding into the seat beside him, which is the same spot he always took, without even glancing at the others. He leaned back comfortably, arm resting on the top of Sunghoon’s chair, already reaching for the water pitcher.

He poured into the glass nearest him, Sunghoon’s glass and took a sip without missing a beat.

Heeseung chuckled. “You do know that’s his glass, right?”

Jay blinked lazily. “And?”

The table erupted with small laughs.

Jake leaned forward, grinning. “Soobin’s not here, dude. You don’t have to keep the act going.”

Jay gave him a look that could only be described as effortlessly unbothered. “This isn’t an act. Hoon just has better water glasses than the rest of you.”

Sunoo raised a brow. “You mean identical restaurant glasses?”

Jay smirked. “Exactly. That’s what makes his glass special.”

Heeseung snorted into his drink. “You’re insufferable.”

Jay just shrugged and turned to Sunghoon, nudging him lightly with his elbow. “Have you ordered yet?”

Sunghoon shook his head, a small, helpless smile tugging at his mouth. “Was waiting for you.”

“Good,” Jay said, eyes flicking over the menu. “You always order the boring stuff.”

Jake whistled. “You’re awfully bossy for a fake boyfriend.”

Jay didn’t even glance up, just continued to point at some dishes to Sunghoon and finally answered Jake. “And you talk too much for someone who didn’t get invited to Singapore.”

That shut Jake up immediately, earning a round of laughs from the table.

Sunoo sipped his water, his voice calm but pointed. “You two are awfully committed to the bit, even when no one’s watching.”

Jay only shrugged again, nonchalant. “Maybe that’s just how we are.”

He clung his arm casually to Sunghoon's arm again, not in a romantic way, just easy, comfortable, like it had always been that way. And that was exactly what threw Sunghoon off: how real it felt, and how Jay didn’t even seem to think about it.

“Anyway,” Jay said, still scanning the menu, “Hoon’s paying, right?”

Sunghoon turned to him, amused. “Who said that?”

Jay met his gaze, a grin playing at his lips. “I did.”

The group burst into laughter again, but Sunghoon barely heard them. Because even as Jay turned back to joke with Ni-ki, his arm was still clinging over Sunghoon’s arm — enough to feel his warmth, casual enough to make it worse.

And Heeseung, ever the observer, leaned slightly toward Sunghoon, whispering just loud enough for him to hear:

“You’re doomed, man.”

Sunghoon didn’t answer, just took a quiet sip of his drink. Because deep down, he already knew.

The student café was unusually quiet for a Saturday. The usual chatter was replaced by the soft clinking of cups and the low hum of indie music from the speakers.

Sunghoon was already there, seated near the window, sleeves rolled up, glasses slipping a little down his nose as he highlighted notes in his open textbook. Across from him, Heeseung stirred his drink lazily, watching him with that too-knowing smirk.

“Still pretending you’re not in love with him?” Heeseung asked casually, like he was asking about the weather.

Sunghoon didn’t even look up. “Not this again.”

“I’m just saying,” Heeseung continued, leaning back. “You’re highlighting the same paragraph for the past five minutes.”

Sunghoon’s pen froze. He exhaled, closed the book, and muttered, “You’re annoying.”

Heeseung grinned. “And you’re in denial.”

Before Sunghoon could reply, the door chimed, and Jay walked in, messenger bag slung over one shoulder, looking like he hadn’t slept properly in days. He scanned the room and immediately spotted them.

“Hey,” Jay greeted, sliding into the seat beside Sunghoon instead of the empty one across.

Heeseung raised a brow. “There are other chairs, you know.”

Jay ignored him, tugging his cap off and running a hand through his hair. “Soobin’s insane,” he muttered, half to himself.

Sunghoon stiffened slightly. “What happened now?”

“He asked if I wanted to go on a ‘friendly dinner’ tomorrow,” Jay said, air-quoting with his fingers. “Like, he literally said friendly. Well not just literally but he highlighted the damn FRIENDLY word. Gosh. Who even does that?”

Heeseung choked back a laugh. “Soobin does.”

Jay groaned, slumping a little, his shoulder brushing Sunghoon’s. “I don’t even want to reject him harshly, but he’s not getting the hint.”

Sunghoon stayed quiet, eyes fixed on his coffee cup.

Heeseung, ever the instigator, grinned. “Then maybe he needs a bigger hint.”

Jay blinked. “Like what?”

Heeseung smirked. “Like you and Sunghoon showing up looking like the disgustingly cute couple you keep pretending to be.”

Jay gave a small, almost amused scoff. “Hyung, it’s not pretending if we’re just comfortable.”

That made Sunghoon glance at him, just for a second, but Jay’s expression was unreadable, calm as always.

Heeseung smirked wider. “Oh? So you’re comfortable doing all that even off-campus now?”

Jay shrugged, leaning back casually. “Why not? If it keeps Soobin from making a move, I’m fine with that.”

Sunghoon felt the air tighten in his chest but kept his tone even. “You really think that’ll work?”

Jay gave him a small grin. “It already has. He backed off yesterday when he saw you casually resting your arms on my shoulder.”

Heeseung laughed loudly. “You’re using him as your human shield. Sunghoon, you’re a victim.”

Jay nudged Sunghoon with his elbow, teasing, “Come on, you like helping me out, don’t you?”

Sunghoon’s breath caught, not at the words, but at how casually Jay said them. Like it really was normal. Like his heart wasn’t currently trying to crawl out of his chest.

Heeseung caught that microsecond of hesitation and smirked even more. “Yeah, he does. He’d carry your whole world if you asked nicely.”

“Hyung,” Sunghoon muttered under his breath, glaring.

Jay just chuckled, reaching over to steal a fry from Heeseung’s plate like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And it was. That was the problem.

Heeseung leaned back, watching them both, Jay, effortlessly calm, and Sunghoon, trying so hard not to look affected. He said, voice soft but pointed, “Keep this up, and you won’t even know when the act stops feeling like one.”

Jay didn’t answer. He just took another fry, brushed his hand lightly against Sunghoon’s wrist as he reached for his drink, and said, “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.” Then rolled his eyes and rested his head on Sunghoon's shoulder.

For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Then Sunghoon looked away, pretending to check his phone — but his pulse was ringing in his ears.

Heeseung’s smirk said everything. And for the first time, Sunghoon realized he didn’t even want to stop pretending.

The last bell had rung hours ago, but the campus was still alive, the sound of footsteps on pavement, distant laughter, the faint scent of rain still hanging in the air.

Jay and Sunghoon walked side by side along the dimly lit pathway that led to the parking area. Jay’s hands were stuffed into his jacket pockets, his bag slung lazily over one shoulder while Sunghoon carried both of their iced drinks from the vending machine nearby.

“You didn’t have to buy me one,” Jay said casually.

Sunghoon shrugged. “You always forget to eat when you’re stressed. Figured caffeine’s safer than starvation.”

Jay hummed, taking the drink anyway. “You’re starting to sound like my mom.”

“Your mom now texts me at midnight asking if you got home safe,” Sunghoon said, half-smiling.

Jay glanced sideways. “Touché.”

They reached Sunghoon’s car, the only one left in the row, and Jay leaned against the passenger door, taking slow sips of his drink. The air between them was easy, familiar… but a little too quiet.

Sunghoon broke it first. “Soobin’s still bothering you?”

Jay exhaled, long and tired. “Not bothering. He’s just… persistent. Asked if I wanted to ‘study together’ this weekend.”

Sunghoon tried to keep his tone neutral. “You said no?”

Jay nodded. “Yeah. I told him I already had plans with you.”

Sunghoon blinked. “You—what?”

Jay shrugged like it was nothing. “Well, it’s believable, right? Everyone already thinks we’re dating. No point in breaking the illusion.”

Sunghoon turned toward him, trying to read his face. “Jay, you don’t have to keep using me as your excuse—”

“I’m not using you,” Jay cut in, tone calm but firm. “You’re my best friend. And honestly? You make it easier. I don’t have to explain myself when you’re around.”

That hit harder than it should have.

Because of course Jay meant it innocently.

But for Sunghoon, every word landed like a quiet bruise.

He forced a small laugh. “You’re dangerous when you talk like that.”

Jay smirked, glancing up at him. “Why? You're scared I’ll make you fall for me?”

It was like a joke, casual, teasing, thrown out like nothing.

But the problem was, Sunghoon already had.

He didn’t answer. He just opened the car door, muttering, “Get in before I leave you here.”

Jay chuckled, climbing into the passenger seat. “You’re so touchy these days.”

As they pulled out of the parking lot, the radio hummed low in the background. The city lights flickered by, painting Jay’s face in gold and shadow, and Sunghoon tried not to look.

Then Jay spoke again, quieter this time “You know… to be honest, sometimes I forget this is all just an act.”

Sunghoon’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “What do you mean?”

Jay leaned his head against the window, watching the blur of lights. “I mean, it feels easy. Natural. Maybe too natural.”

Sunghoon’s heart gave a painful twist. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Maybe too natural.”

The rest of the drive passed in silence, comfortable, but heavy.

When they finally stopped in front of Jay’s condo building, Jay turned to him with that same easy smile. “Thanks for the ride, as always.”

Sunghoon nodded once, hands still gripping the wheel. “You’re welcome.”

Jay opened the door but didn’t step out immediately. He hesitated — just long enough to glance at him again. “Hey,” he said quietly, “you know you don’t have to keep pretending so hard, right?”

Sunghoon frowned. “Pretending what?”

Jay smiled, small, knowing, and devastatingly gentle.

“That it’s fake.”

And before Sunghoon could even react, Jay was gone, walking toward the lobby, leaving Sunghoon staring after him with his chest burning and his heart completely undone.

Velvet was packed. The city’s most popular club was glowing in deep red and violet light, every corner pulsing with bass. Fog machines hissed across the floor, mirrors behind the bar catching glints of sequins, fake fangs, and messy glitter. The Halloween event, hosted by one of Riverfield University’s top student organizations, was easily the highlight of the semester.

And walking straight through the center of it were Jay and Sunghoon.

They didn’t even need to say a word. Heads just turned as they passed, not because they were loud or attention-seeking, but because they looked too composed in the chaos. Two zombies that somehow looked like they belonged on a runway rather than crawling out of graves.

Jay’s black suit was artfully ruined: slashed sleeves, a loosened tie, his half-torn shirt revealing flashes of his lean abdomen every time the strobe lights hit. Beside him, Sunghoon’s version was cleaner, darker—cuts in his shirt tracing the shape of his chest, the fake blood on his cheek a sharp contrast to his impossibly calm face.

“Remind me again,” Sunghoon said, leaning closer so he could be heard over the bass, “why we’re doing this again when Soobin’s been quiet for a week?”

Jay smirked, tugging slightly at his tie. “Because Soobin’s the type who backs off slowly. He’s probably still convincing himself I’ll change my mind.”

Sunghoon hummed, eyes flicking briefly toward where Soobin stood near the bar with some friends. “Looks like he’s already accepted defeat, though. You’ve been too clingy lately.”

Jay shot him a look, lips curving into that lazy grin of his. “You’re the one who started carrying my bag to class, Mr. Attentive.”

“Part of the role,” Sunghoon said smoothly, trying not to let the memory of that morning, Jay’s sleepy voice asking if he could borrow Sunghoon’s hoodie—take over.

Jay shrugged, unfazed. “Then keep doing it. You’re convincing.”

“You sound like my director.”

Jay laughed quietly. “You sound like you’re complaining.”

Sunghoon didn’t answer. He couldn’t—not when Jay turned his head, meeting his eyes under the dim club light, his makeup making him look half-dead but entirely alive in all the ways that mattered.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Sunghoon muttered.

“Like what?”

“Like you know what you’re doing.”

Jay only smirked. “Maybe I do.”

Before Sunghoon could reply, a voice cut through the crowd.
“Jay!”

They both turned. Soobin was weaving through the people, waving slightly, his smile polite but tight. “Hey! You look great—both of you.”

Jay’s response was calm, effortless. “Thanks, hyung. You too.”

There wasn’t a single flicker of awkwardness. Jay had mastered it — being soft enough to not sound cold, but detached enough to draw a line. Soobin lingered only a second longer before nodding and disappearing back toward his group.

Sunghoon watched him go, exhaling through his nose. “Guess it’s working.”

“Told you,” Jay said, tone light, as if he hadn’t just ended months of someone’s quiet persistence in one interaction.

“Still,” Sunghoon added, his hand brushing the small of Jay’s back as they moved through the crowd, “you’re too composed for someone who just rejected a guy for the third time.”

Jay’s smile was faint but genuine. “Because I have a good fake boyfriend to lean on.”

That one landed deeper than it should have.

Sunghoon just nodded, eyes softening briefly before he looked away. “Right. Fake.”

They found the rest of the group lounging at the VIP couch section, Heeseung sprawled with a cocktail in hand, Sunoo taking selfies beside Jungwon, Jake waving them over, and Ni-ki already halfway through his soda.

“Finally!” Heeseung grinned as Jay and Sunghoon joined them. “Our favorite couple is here.”

“Shut up,” Jay said, sinking into the couch beside Sunghoon, legs brushing naturally. “You’ve been calling us that for weeks.”

“That’s because it’s funny watching you both act like you’re not actually dating,” Sunoo quipped without looking up from his phone.

“Key word—act,” Jay said smoothly, reaching for the drink Jake offered him.

Sunghoon leaned back, one arm casually resting along the couch’s back, right behind Jay’s shoulders. It was such a familiar sight that even the group didn’t think twice about it—except Heeseung, who caught the faint way Sunghoon’s thumb brushed against the fabric of Jay’s sleeve like it was a habit he didn’t mean to have.

“You two should slow down,” Heeseung said with a teasing drawl. “People might start thinking this whole thing’s real.”

Jay shot him a lazy look. “Let them think what they want.”

“See? That’s exactly what makes it look real,” Sunoo muttered. “You’re too chill about it.”

Sunghoon just chuckled, picking up his drink. “Guess we’re good at the part, huh.”

“Suspiciously good,” Jungwon added, hiding his grin behind a sip of beer.

The teasing rolled on, laughter spilling into the loud music, and for a moment everything just felt easy again—like there wasn’t a half-truth lingering between their shoulders or a quiet tension in every glance.

When Jay leaned slightly closer to reach for the chips on the table, his hand brushed Sunghoon’s thigh, casual, thoughtless. But Sunghoon went still for half a beat too long.

Heeseung noticed. Of course he did.

He smirked over his drink. “Careful, Hoon. Your ‘fake boyfriend’ looks real enough to make you forget the fake part.”

Sunghoon looked away with a quiet laugh, covering it with a sip. “You talk too much, hyung.”

But Jay didn’t react—didn’t flinch, didn’t blush. He just turned his head, met Sunghoon’s eyes, and said calmly, “Relax. He’s just jealous he doesn’t have someone to fake date.”

That shut everyone up for a beat.

Then Heeseung burst out laughing. “Touché.”

Sunghoon tried to keep his expression neutral, but his lips curved slowly, pride and warmth twisting together in his chest.

Because Jay was right beside him, soft-spoken but sure, completely at ease in the act that no longer felt like one.

And for the first time that night, Sunghoon wasn’t sure if he wanted it to end.

It was already midnight but the halloween party was still going on. The bass thumped faintly in the background, lazy and low. Most people were either still dancing on the dance floor or passed out somewhere. The air smelled of sweat, smoke, and leftover perfume.

Jay sat back on the couch, legs stretched out, one hand nursing his half-empty glass. His zombie costume was ruined hours ago, fake blood fading, the tears in his shirt revealing too much skin under the dim amber lights.

Across from him, Jungwon was already out cold, curled up on another couch like a kid after a long day. Jake and Sunoo were still half on the dance floor, all laughter and glitter, while Ni-ki and Heeseung had drifted off to greet some friends at the club.

So it was just him and Sunghoon now.

Sunghoon,flushed and lazy-eyed, half slouched against the couch. His head tilted toward Jay, the corner of his mouth tugged into a grin that didn’t look like his usual teasing one. His costume, which is the tattered zombie get-up clung just right, collarbones glinting faintly under the light. His hair was messy, and his eyes… a little too focused on Jay.

“You’re staring,” Jay said without looking up, swirling his drink.

Sunghoon hummed. “Because you’re staring first.”

Jay snorted. “You’re imagining things again.”

“Maybe,” Sunghoon said, leaning closer. “But even if I am, you still look at me the same way every time.”

Jay turned, startled by the sudden closeness, Sunghoon’s face barely a hand’s width away. His breath smelled faintly of whiskey and mint.

“Every time?” Jay echoed.

Sunghoon chuckled, low and lazy. “Yeah. Like you’re trying to figure me out but you already know the answer.”

Jay didn’t answer, cause he couldn’t.

The music softened, switching to something slow, something with bass that matched the rhythm in his chest.

Sunghoon shifted, one knee brushing Jay’s thigh. His hand rested casually on the back of the couch, close enough that his fingers brushed Jay’s shoulder every now and then.

“Why’re you sitting so far away, hmm?” Sunghoon teased, voice dropping into something softer, drunker. “You’re usually the clingy one when we drink.”

Jay shot him a look. “That’s you.”

Sunghoon grinned, a flash of teeth. “Then let me do it properly.”

He leaned in, resting his head on Jay’s shoulder. The warmth seeped through the thin fabric instantly, and Jay froze, staring straight ahead.

“Your heart’s racing,” Sunghoon murmured against his neck. “Are you nervous?”

Jay scoffed quietly, trying to sound steady. “You’re drunk, Sunghoon.”

“Maybe,” Sunghoon said, eyes fluttering half-closed. “But I still mean what I say.”

Jay swallowed. “And what are you saying?”

There was a pause, short, but heavy enough to make the air feel thick.

Sunghoon lifted his head slightly, just enough that their eyes met.

The lazy grin was gone now, replaced by something softer, vulnerable in a way Jay had never seen on him before.

“I like it better when you’re just mine,” Sunghoon murmured.
The words were slurred but sure. “Even if we’re just pretending.”

Jay’s breath caught. “What—”

Sunghoon smiled faintly, thumb brushing the edge of Jay’s knee. “Don’t act surprised. You knew it, didn’t you?”

Jay couldn’t look away. His chest felt too tight, it was the kind of ache that came when you realized something you’d been avoiding was finally real.

“Sunghoon…”

Sunghoon tilted his head, eyes flicking to Jay’s lips for just a second too long. “Don’t say my name like that, Jay.”

Jay blinked. “Like what?”

“Like you might actually mean it.”

The words lingered between them, heavy and electric.

Jay didn’t even realize he’d moved until his hand found Sunghoon’s jaw, thumb brushing the faint smear of fake blood near his cheek.

Sunghoon didn’t pull away, if anything, he leaned into the touch, his smile softening into something almost pleading.

“Say something,” Sunghoon whispered.

Jay did, though not in words.

He leaned in, closing the space between them, slow enough for Sunghoon to feel his breath ghost across his lips before finally breaking apart, Sunghoon’s smile was tired but real, and Jay’s chest ached in ways he didn’t understand yet.

“Guess that wasn’t part of the fake dating,” Sunghoon mumbled, eyes fluttering shut against Jay’s shoulder.

Jay swallowed hard, his hand still on Sunghoon’s cheek. “No,” he whispered, voice trembling just a little. “It wasn’t.”

The faint hum of the city was the first thing Sunghoon heard. Then came the soft whirr of the air conditioner, the distant sound of boiling water, and the quiet rustle of someone moving in the kitchen.

He blinked his eyes open slowly, groaning as sunlight hit the corner of his face. His head was pounding. His shirt was half unbuttoned. And… this wasn’t his bed.

The room was too neat, minimalist decor, gray sheets, faint scent of coffee and detergent.
Jay’s condo.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to piece together the fragments from last night: the club, the music, the fake dating, the drinks, the way Jay had looked at him and then nothing. Just static.

“Morning,” came a familiar voice.

He turned his head. Jay was standing by the doorway, holding two mugs. His ripped zombie costume was gone, replaced by a plain white shirt and joggers, hair still messy from sleep. He looked unfairly calm.

“You’re alive,” Jay said, tone light but his smile just a little tired.

Sunghoon let out a low laugh, voice rough. “Barely.”

“Coffee?” Jay walked over, handing him a mug.

“God, yes.” Sunghoon sat up slowly, wincing as he took it. “Did I— uh— cause trouble last night?”

Jay leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “Define trouble.”

“That bad, huh?”

Jay didn’t answer immediately — just watched him over the rim of his mug. Something in his gaze lingered longer than it should have.

“You were just… clingy,” Jay said finally. “Wouldn’t stop leaning on me.”

Sunghoon groaned, covering his face with one hand. “Great. I’m sure everyone saw.”

“Not everyone,” Jay said softly.

Sunghoon peeked through his fingers. “You sound suspiciously okay about that.”

Jay set his mug down on the nightstand, tone steady but eyes giving him away. “Maybe because I didn’t mind.”

That made Sunghoon freeze. His heart stuttered once, sharp and unexpected. “You didn’t— what?”

Jay sighed, moving closer until he was sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Sunghoon, do you remember anything… before you passed out?”

He frowned, trying to recall. There had been the couch, the laughter, Jay’s hand on his face, the warmth between them— His breath hitched. “I— I think I said something. To you.”

“You did,” Jay said, voice quiet now.

Sunghoon’s throat went dry. “Did I mess up?”

Jay bit his lower lip, trying not to smile. “You confessed.”

Sunghoon blinked, heat crawling up his neck. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“God.” He buried his face in his hands, groaning. “I knew I’d say something stupid—”

“It wasn’t stupid,” Jay interrupted gently.

That made him look up. Jay’s expression was unreadable, but his tone — soft, steady — gave him away.

Sunghoon stared at him for a beat. “Wait. Are you… serious right now?”

Jay exhaled slowly, then smiled — small, nervous, but real.
“I told you,” he murmured. “You weren’t the only one forgetting it was fake.”

Sunghoon blinked, processing the words like his brain was rebooting. “So… what does that mean?”

Jay shrugged lightly, though the pink in his ears betrayed him. “It means you’re not dreaming. It’s real now.”

For a second, neither spoke. Then Sunghoon let out a slow laugh — breathless, incredulous. “You’re serious?”

Jay nodded once. “I woke up before you. I thought about taking it back. But I didn’t want to.”

Sunghoon’s smile softened, slow and disbelieving. “So… we’re—?”

“Official,” Jay finished, his tone simple, but the weight of it warm and certain.

Sunghoon leaned back, staring up at the ceiling like the words needed time to settle. Then he glanced back at Jay, eyes shining with quiet amusement.

“You really said yes while I was passed out?”

Jay snorted. “You kissed me before you passed out, so technically, you started it.”

Sunghoon groaned but grinned through it. “You’re impossible.”

“Persistent,” Jay corrected with a smirk — throwing back the line Sunghoon always used.

That made Sunghoon laugh, and before he could stop himself, he reached out, fingers brushing Jay’s wrist, tugging him gently closer.

“Come here.”

Jay hesitated, only for a second, then leaned in — their foreheads touching, the quiet between them no longer awkward, just easy.

“Next time,” Sunghoon murmured, voice low and still a little husky, “let me be awake when you make us official.”

Jay chuckled under his breath. “Deal.”

Sunghoon smiled against his cheek. “Good. Because I don’t plan on waking up anywhere else from now on.”

The mall was alive with noises of people strolling around, laughters echoing through wide hallways, the buzz of conversation, music spilling faintly from the open storefronts. Warm light fell through the skylights above, catching the glint of Sunghoon’s silver watch as he walked beside Jay.

Jay had a tote bag slung over his shoulder, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other holding a drink. Sunghoon was carrying all the shopping bags, most of which weren’t even his. He didn’t seem to mind.

They weren’t in a rush. That was what made it feel different.

“Don’t tell me you’re tired already,” Sunghoon said, glancing at Jay as they passed a row of stores.

Jay snorted, taking a slow sip from his drink. “You’re the one who’s been sighing every two minutes.”

“That’s because I’ve been carrying your stuff,” Sunghoon replied, shifting the bags in his hands. “And before you say it, yes, I offered. But I didn’t realize you were shopping for the entire university.”

Jay’s lips curved, faint and teasing. “You could’ve said no.”

“I could’ve,” Sunghoon said, smiling at him, “but I wouldn’t.”

Jay met his gaze for a second too long before looking away, pretending to check a window display. “You really don’t know when to stop talking.”

“Maybe I just like having your attention,” Sunghoon said easily.

Jay didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The way his lips twitched, that was answer enough.

They stopped in front of a small clothing store. Jay reached for a black shirt on display, running his fingers along the fabric.

“This looks good,” he murmured.

“Try it,” Sunghoon said, stepping closer to look. “It’ll suit you.”

Jay turned slightly. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon said simply, his voice quieter now. “You always look good in black.”

Jay rolled his eyes, but there was no heat in it. “You and your opinions.”

“They’re accurate opinions,” Sunghoon replied, smiling when Jay walked past him to the counter.

After paying, they ended up in the food court, sitting at a quiet corner booth away from the noise. Jay’s drink was half-finished; Sunghoon’s fries sat mostly untouched because Jay kept stealing them without asking.

Sunghoon leaned back in his seat, watching him. “You know, you could just order your own.”

“But yours tastes better,” Jay said, not looking up.

“That’s not how that works.”

“It is now.”

Sunghoon chuckled, resting his chin on his hand. “You’re impossible.”

Jay finally looked up, one brow raised. “You say that like it’s new.”

“It’s not,” Sunghoon said, still smiling. “But I keep finding new ways to be okay with it.”

Jay paused, fingers drumming lightly against the table. Then he said, quietly, “You’re being weird today.”

“How so?”

“Like—soft. Unusual behavior of yours”

Sunghoon leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Maybe I’ve just stopped pretending I’m not.”

Jay blinked once, caught off guard, then turned away to grab another fry. “You’re annoying when you say things like that.”

“I know.”

“Stop smiling.”

“I can’t,” Sunghoon said, a grin slipping back onto his face. “You’re here.”

Jay sighed, shaking his head, but there was a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Persistent,” Sunghoon corrected automatically, like it was second nature now.

They sat like that for a while, quiet, unhurried. Jay’s phone buzzed on the table, but he didn’t check it. The crowd moved around them, yet the space they shared felt still, small, warm, familiar.

At some point, Jay’s head tilted, resting lightly against Sunghoon’s shoulder. He didn’t ask. Sunghoon didn’t move. He just smiled a little to himself, careful not to shift too much, not to break whatever this was.

Jay mumbled, voice barely audible. “You’re comfortable.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Then keep saying it,” Sunghoon said softly. “I’ll take it.”

Jay didn’t answer. His eyes were closed now, lashes brushing his cheeks, the faint hum of mall chatter wrapping around them.

And for the first time, Sunghoon didn’t feel like they were acting, didn’t feel like there was anything to prove or hide.

They were just there.
Two people in the middle of a crowded mall, sitting close enough to feel each other breathe, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

After staying for too long at the mall, they now went to the restaurant that had that quiet kind of atmosphere, dim lights, the scent of roasted garlic and butter drifting through the air, quiet jazz humming in the background that Sunghoon had a reservation for.

They’d settled at a table near the window, the city lights flickering just outside.

Sunghoon was reading the menu, brows furrowed like he was deciding on the fate of the universe. Jay sat across from him, scrolling through his phone with one hand, sipping water with the other.

“You’ve been staring at that menu for ten minutes,” Jay said without looking up.

Sunghoon hummed. “I’m thinking.”

“About what? It’s dinner, not an exam.”

“I just don’t want to order something you won’t like.”

Jay finally looked up, one brow raised. “You’re not feeding me, Sunghoon. You can eat whatever you want.”

“Yeah, but I like when you steal my food.”

Jay blinked, lips parting slightly, then exhaled through his nose, amused, a little resigned. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Persistent,” Sunghoon said, grinning.

Jay leaned back in his chair. “You should really find a new word.”

“No need,” Sunghoon replied lightly. “That one fits me.”

Before Jay could respond, a voice cut through the soft chatter of the restaurant.

“Jay?”

Both of them turned. Standing a few steps away was a man in a beige jacket, tall, effortlessly put together, with a mischievous smile that matched Jay’s in a way that could only be family.

“Jun-hyung?” Jay said, blinking once before his expression softened. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Jun said, grinning as he walked over. “I thought you were still buried in midterms.”

Jay shrugged. “Just ended and now I need air.”

Jun’s gaze slid past him, landing on Sunghoon, who’d quickly set down his menu and offered a polite smile.

“And this must be…?” Jun asked, eyes flicking between them with playful curiosity.

“Sunghoon,” Jay answered easily. “My—”

Before he could finish, Jun’s grin widened. “Boyfriend?”

Jay didn’t flinch, didn’t blush, didn’t even hesitate. He just gave a small, nonchalant smile and said, “Something like that.”

Sunghoon froze for a beat, then covered it with a light laugh. “Hi. Nice to meet you, hyung.”

Jun’s eyebrows rose slightly at the title. “Polite. Handsome. I like him already.”

“Don’t,” Jay said flatly, though his tone carried warmth.

Jun chuckled, sliding his hands into his pockets. “You’ve got good taste, Jay. I didn’t know you were into this type though, the quiet, gentlemanly kind.”

Jay leaned back, smirking faintly. “You make it sound like I collect them.”

“You don’t?”

“I don’t have time for that,” Jay said smoothly, crossing his legs under the table. “One’s enough.”

Sunghoon nearly choked on his water.

Jun laughed. “Okay, okay, fair. I’m just surprised. Last I checked, you said dating was a ‘distraction.’”

“It still is,” Jay replied calmly. “I just learned how to manage my distractions better.”

Jun tilted his head, amused. “He’s rubbing off on you already.”

Jay didn’t deny it, just smirked, sipping from his glass like it didn’t matter. But his foot brushed lightly against Sunghoon’s under the table, intentional or not.

Jun smiled, shaking his head. “Well, I won’t keep you two. Tell Auntie I said hi, and… don’t overwork yourself again, okay?”

“Got it,” Jay said simply.

Jun lingered just long enough to wink at Sunghoon before walking off toward another table.

When he was gone, Sunghoon let out a slow breath, leaning back. “Your cousin’s… something.”

Jay set down his glass. “He’s fine. Just likes to talk.”

“He likes to tease you,” Sunghoon corrected, still a little dazed. “And you just… went with it.”

Jay looked at him then, his expression unreadable, that cool, deliberate tone slipping back into place. “Would you have corrected him?”

Sunghoon paused, meeting his gaze. “No.”

“Then neither would I.”

The corner of Jay’s mouth twitched upward. “Good.”

Their food arrived then, warm plates of pasta, the scent of herbs and butter rising between them. The moment passed quietly, but it lingered in the air like something unspoken.

Halfway through dinner, Jay caught Sunghoon staring again.

“What?” he asked without looking up.

Sunghoon smiled faintly. “Nothing. Just thinking how right Jun-hyung was.”

Jay arched his brow. “About what?”

“That I’m rubbing off on you.”

Jay huffed a quiet laugh, twirling his fork. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Too late,” Sunghoon said softly. “You make it easy.”

Jay glanced up, eyes sharp but warm, and for a split second, just before he looked away, the faintest smile broke through.

And that was all the confirmation Sunghoon needed.

The ride home was too peaceful. The road was quiet, the kind of quiet that made the hum of the car feel too loud. City lights flickered against the windshield as they drove, painting faint gold lines across Jay’s face. He looked peaceful, leaning back in the passenger seat, one hand resting against his cheek, the other playing absently with the seatbelt strap.

Sunghoon glanced at him from the driver’s seat, pretending not to notice how soft the moment felt.

Jay broke the silence first. “You’re awfully quiet,” he murmured.

Sunghoon smirked faintly. “Just driving.”

Jay tilted his head toward him, his voice teasing. “You sure? You look like you’re thinking too much.”

“I’m not,” Sunghoon said quickly.

That was exactly what someone thinking too much would say, and Jay knew it. He chuckled under his breath, watching the faint pink rise to Sunghoon’s ears. “You’re bad at lying.”

Sunghoon cleared his throat, focusing on the road. “I’m not lying.”

“You always do that,” Jay said, amusement curling his tone. “Avoid questions when you’re flustered.”

“I’m not—” Sunghoon began, then stopped, realizing arguing would only make it worse. “Jay.”

“Yes?”

“Stop smiling like that.”

“Like what?” Jay grinned wider.

“Like you’re enjoying this.”

“Because I am.”

Sunghoon groaned quietly, turning at the next light. “You’re impossible.”

“Persistent,” Jay said, mocking his own usual line, and that made Sunghoon laugh, just once, quiet and low.

The sound made Jay glance sideways again, softer now. The car filled with warmth that had nothing to do with the heater.

Jay’s voice dropped slightly. “When did you start liking me?”

Sunghoon nearly missed the turn. “W-what?”

Jay smiled, eyes glinting. “You heard me.”

“Why would you ask that?”

“Because you do.”

Sunghoon’s hand tightened on the steering wheel. “You’re getting bold.”

Jay shrugged. “You make it too easy.”

Sunghoon sighed, running a hand through his hair — a nervous tic. “You really want me to answer?”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

He hesitated, glancing at him briefly before focusing back on the road. “Since before the act. Maybe way before that.”

Jay blinked, and the teasing grin softened into something gentler. “You mean—”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon interrupted quickly, his tone a little too casual. “Now stop asking before I change the subject.”

Jay laughed, really laughed this time, bright and light and genuine. “You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” Jay pressed, leaning slightly closer. “You’re so red right now.”

“Seat heater’s on,” Sunghoon muttered, face turned toward the window.

Jay only grinned, clearly unconvinced, and leaned back again, the laughter fading into quiet comfort.

When the car finally pulled up in front of Jay’s condo, neither of them moved right away. The street was calm, dim lamps glowing along the sidewalk, and for a long moment, all Jay could hear was the steady rhythm of their breathing.

“Thanks for dinner,” Jay said softly.

Sunghoon nodded. “Anytime.”

“And for driving me home.”

“You always say that like I’d let you take the taxi.”

Jay smiled, the corner of his lip curving up. “Guess I’ll get off then.”

He unbuckled his seatbelt but didn’t open the door. Instead, he turned, eyes meeting Sunghoon’s. “You should get some rest when you get home.”

“I will,” Sunghoon murmured.

Jay leaned in just slightly, the air between them warm and familiar. “Good.”

And before Sunghoon could say anything, Jay reached over and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Just a touch, brief, sure, enough to make Sunghoon freeze for a heartbeat.

When Jay pulled back, his voice was quiet, teasing but full of something real. “Drive safe, Sunghoon-ah.”

He stepped out of the car, closing the door gently behind him, leaving Sunghoon sitting there, utterly still, the faintest, helpless smile tugging at his lips.

Sunghoon exhaled, resting his hand against the steering wheel. And smiled, the same soft smile playing at his lips, cause he already knew.

Already knew that he won Jay's heart.