Chapter Text
I find out my name is in someone else’s mouth before it’s even in my own head.
It starts like everything starts here: a laugh that’s too loud, a phone held too high, a whisper that isn’t whispered.
I’m halfway down the main corridor, dodging shoulders and backpacks, when I hear it.
“—no, I swear, it’s Woonhak.”
I stop so fast someone clips my shoulder. “Watch it,” they mutter, but I barely register it because my whole brain has just tilted sideways.
I turn my head slowly, like if I do it too quickly the words will become real.
A group of girls are crowded by the trophy case, screens glowing between them. One of them is smiling with the kind of excitement people get when they’ve found a secret and decided it belongs to everyone.
Another voice—breathless, gossipy—adds, “It makes sense though, doesn’t it?”
Makes sense.
My name.
In the same sentence as Taesan.
I keep walking. I don’t know why. Pride, maybe. Or shock. Or the fact that if I stop and ask what they mean, I’ll be admitting I care.
But the words follow me anyway, sticky as spilled energy drink.
“Apparently Taesan’s been seeing someone on the low.”
“Like, not popular.”
“And it’s not even his friend group—”
“It’s Woonhak.”
My stomach drops so hard it feels like I’ve missed a step on the stairs.
I don’t even talk to him.
I’ve spoken to Taesan exactly three times in two years, and all three were accidents. Once when he cut in front of me in the canteen line and didn’t apologise. Once when I answered a question in class and he turned around to look at me like he’d forgotten I existed. Once when someone bumped him in the corridor and he steadied himself by grabbing my arm—then let go like he’d touched something hot.
That’s it.
So why is my name suddenly everywhere?
I make it to my next class and sit down too hard, chair legs screeching. Jaehyun looks over from the desk beside mine.
“You good?”
I swallow. “Why are people saying I’m dating Taesan?”
His face does something complicated. Something like delight and oh no at the same time.
“…You heard that.”
“So it’s true,” I say flatly.
“No,” he blurts. “No, obviously not. You’d have told me.”
I stare at him. “Would I?”
He sighs and pulls out his phone. “It started because of this.”
He shows me the screen.
It’s a photo of the back corridor near the music rooms—grainy, zoomed in, taken from too far away. Taesan is half-turned, head dipped like he’s saying something. And next to him—
Me.
Close enough to look intentional. Close enough to look like something it never was.
I remember that moment. Someone shoved past me. I stumbled. Taesan caught my elbow without thinking. Said “Careful.” Then walked away.
That was it.
But in this photo, it looks like a secret.
“Someone posted it,” Jaehyun says quietly. “People ran with it.”
“Why me,” I ask.
“They recognised you,” he admits. “From… how you look at him.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means enough for people who want a story.”
The door opens.
Taesan walks in late like he owns the place.
Conversation stutters. Heads turn. Even the teacher pauses.
He doesn’t look at anyone—until his eyes land on me.
Something sharp flickers across his face when he notices the phone.
Understanding.
Then he smiles. Small. Controlled.
He walks past every desk and stops beside mine.
“After class,” he murmurs. “Stairwell.”
My heart slams.
The stairwell smells like dust and old paint. The door clicks shut behind us.
“Explain,” I say.
“You saw it.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“I know.”
That stops me.
“If we let this run,” he says, “it gets worse. People decide things for us.”
“So what’s your fix?”
“We control it,” he replies. “Fake dating. Short-term.”
“No.”
“I’ll set boundaries. We end it when you say stop.”
I should leave.
But I don’t.
“…Fine,” I say. “But this doesn’t make us friends.”
His mouth quirks. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
We leave separately.
Five minutes later, he slips an arm around my shoulders in the courtyard.
Cameras flash. Whispers ignite.
“Smile,” he murmurs.
I do.
And just like that, the rumour becomes real enough to believe.
Fake dating.
I already hate it.
I don’t look back.
If I do, I think I might unravel right there in the middle of the courtyard, with his arm still heavy on my shoulders and everyone watching like they’ve just been handed proof of something they invented five minutes ago.
So I keep walking.
By the time I get home, my phone is vibrating nonstop.
Thirty-seven notifications.
Group chats I barely speak in. Names I haven’t seen in months.
is it true??
since when??
you and taesan??
didn’t expect that but okay
I lock my phone and drop it face-down on my bed.
Fake dating.
It was supposed to stop things from getting worse.
But lying there, staring at the ceiling crack I’ve traced a hundred times before, I realise something far more terrifying.
The story has already changed.
And tomorrow, when I walk back into school—
when he stands next to me again,
when people look at us like they already know how this goes—
I won’t just be pretending for them.
I’ll be pretending for myself.