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Haechan didn’t mean to ruin someone’s life that afternoon.
It started, as most of his poor decisions did, with Renjun daring him—smiling too brightly, leaning across the café table like he didn’t already have Haechan exactly where he wanted him.
“I dare you,” Renjun said, eyes glittering in that way that meant Haechan should’ve walked away immediately, “to ask a stranger to go to couple’s counseling with you.”
Haechan blinked. Once. Twice.
“…That’s not even a thing.”
Renjun slid a flyer across the table with two fingers. Bright pastel colors. Bubble font.
FREE COUPLES COUNSELING — CAMPUS WELLNESS WEEK!
Haechan stared at it. Then, because looking at Renjun for too long always did something unpleasant to his chest, he laughed instead. Loud. Unapologetic.
“Oh my god,” he said. “You’re evil.”
“I’m bored,” Renjun shrugged, stirring his drink. “And you said you’d do anything I dared you to.”
Haechan scoffed. “I did not say anything.”
Renjun raised an eyebrow—the same one Haechan had learned not to look at too closely, for his own good.
Haechan sighed. Dramatically. Like a man walking to his execution. “Fine,” he said. “But I’m choosing the stranger.”
***
He found Jeno five minutes later.
Not because he was looking for him specifically—but because Jeno had that kind of face. The kind that made you stop without realizing you had. Soft features, broad shoulders, quiet posture. He was sitting on a bench outside the student center, backpack neatly placed at his feet, scrolling through his phone like he wasn’t actively ruining Haechan’s ability to think straight.
Oh, Haechan thought.
You’ll do.
He walked up to him with zero plan, zero shame, and maximum confidence.
“Hey,” Haechan said.
Jeno looked up immediately. Too polite. Already a red flag.
“Yes?”
Haechan smiled—bright, charming, a little unhinged. “Quick question. Hypothetically. If a stranger asked you to go to couple’s counseling with him. For free. Right now. What would you say?”
Jeno frowned. “…Do I even know you?”
“Nope.”
“Are we a couple?”
“Also no.”
Jeno paused. Mulled over the invitation.
Haechan leaned in conspiratorially. “But wouldn’t you want to know at what point the therapist realizes we don’t even know each other?”
Jeno stared at him.
Silence stretched.
Haechan waited for the inevitable 'absolutely not', already planning how he’d spin this as a moral victory to Renjun.
Instead, Jeno said, “Is… is this for a class?”
“No.”
“A social experiment?”
“Also no.”
“…Are you okay?”
Haechan grinned wider. “Debatable.”
Another pause.
Jeno exhaled slowly, like he was bracing himself for something. “It’s free?”
“Yes.”
“And it won’t… hurt anyone?”
Haechan tilted his head. “Emotionally? Maybe.”
Jeno grimaced. “…Okay.”
Haechan blinked. “Wait. Really?”
Jeno nodded once. “Sure.”
Haechan laughed, delighted. “Oh my god. You’re adorable.”
Jeno flushed instantly. “I—what?”
“Nothing,” Haechan said, already grabbing his wrist. “C’mon, fake boyfriend. Let’s go unpack our nonexistent issues.”
***
The therapist, unfortunately, took them very seriously.
She smiled warmly as they sat down on the couch—Haechan relaxed, legs spread, arm casually draped along the back. Jeno stiff as a board, hands folded in his lap like he was attending a disciplinary hearing.
“So,” the therapist began, clipboard ready. “How long have you two been together?”
Haechan answered immediately. “About a year.”
Jeno’s head snapped toward him. “What?”
Haechan sighed deeply. “See? This. He never remembers important milestones.”
The therapist nodded sympathetically.
Jeno panicked. “No, that’s not—I mean—”
“And how would you describe your relationship?” the therapist asked.
Haechan didn’t even hesitate.
“Well,” he said, crossing his arms, “he’s emotionally constipated.”
Jeno choked. “Hey—”
“And avoidant,” Haechan continued smoothly. “If feelings were a group project, he’d do all the work silently and never tell anyone he’s struggling.”
Jeno shook his head slowly, lips pressed together, the picture of a wounded partner. “Wow. So that’s how you see me.”
The therapist scribbled something down. “That must be hard to hear.”
“Oh, devastating,” Jeno said solemnly, bringing a hand to his chest. “I’m heartbroken.”
Haechan rolled his eyes. “See? Deflecting with humor.”
Jeno bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. This was… ridiculous. Completely unhinged. And somehow—fun. He leaned back into the role, sighing dramatically.
“I just don’t understand why nothing I do is ever enough for you,” he said, voice carefully strained.
Haechan blinked, thrown off for half a second—then smirked. “Because you never say anything. I have to guess. I’m tired of guessing.”
The therapist hummed approvingly. “It sounds like you’re both feeling misunderstood.”
Jeno nodded earnestly, eyes flicking to Haechan for a brief second. He caught the sparkle there. The ‘oh, you’re playing along’ look.
Yeah. This was fun.
Haechan launched into it smoothly, like he’d rehearsed. “We’re very different. I’m more… emotionally expressive. He’s quiet. Reserved. He shows love through actions.”
Jeno blinked. That’s… not wrong.
“Sometimes,” Haechan continued, voice softening just enough to sound real, “it feels like I care more.”
Jeno frowned. “I do care.”
Haechan looked at him, surprised.
The therapist perked up. “That’s important. Jeno, is that something you feel you struggle to communicate?”
Jeno hesitated. Then nodded. “…Yes.”
Haechan stared at him now, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.
***
“So tell me,” the therapist said gently, “what makes you love the other person?”
Haechan’s posture changed.
It was subtle—shoulders relaxing, voice lowering—but Jeno noticed. The playful sharpness dulled into something quieter, heavier.
“He…” Haechan began, then paused. “He’s steady. Even when everything around him isn’t.”
Jeno stilled, watching as the other leaned back, eyes lifting to the ceiling like he was scrolling through memories. The playful ease he’d been wearing all session slipped completely.
“There was this one time,” he continued, voice slower now, “when I was having a really bad week. Like—everything kept piling on. Deadlines, people asking for things, me pretending I was fine when I wasn’t.”
Jeno shifted slightly beside him, attentive without meaning to be.
“I didn’t tell him,” Haechan continued. “Didn’t even hint at it. I’m good at that. Acting normal. Making jokes. Being… tolerable.”
He smiled faintly, not amused.
“But he noticed anyway. Because I was quieter than usual. Because I forgot my coffee order. Because I stopped complaining.”
Jeno’s throat tightened.
“So he didn’t ask,” Haechan said. “He just showed up. Sat next to me. Didn’t try to fix anything.”
The room felt smaller.
“He handed me food. Stole my phone when I tried to work. Let me sit there in silence like it wasn’t awkward or inconvenient.”
Haechan swallowed.
“And that was it,” he said quietly. “That’s when I knew.”
The therapist tilted her head. “Knew what?”
“That I was safe with him,” Haechan answered without hesitation. “That I didn’t have to earn his presence.”
Jeno stared at the floor, chest heavy in a way he didn’t have a name for.
“He does this thing,” Haechan added, softer now, almost embarrassed. “Where he listens like he’s got nowhere else to be. Like I’m not something he has to manage.”
A breath of a laugh. “Which is funny, because I’m kind of a lot.”
The therapist smiled. “And how does that make you feel?”
Haechan’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “Seen. Chosen. Even when I’m not trying to be likable.”
Silence followed—not awkward, not rushed.
Jeno realized then that Haechan wasn’t telling a story for the therapist.
He was remembering it for himself.
And for a split second, Jeno wondered—dangerously—what kind of person you had to be to make Haechan look like this. This unguarded. This real.
The therapist smiled. “That’s very heartfelt. And you, Jeno?”
Jeno blinked. “Me?”
Jeno’s voice came out softer than he expected. “Uh. Yeah. Umm.. also, that.”
Haechan laughed under his breath, fond.
***
“Is there anything from the past that still bothers you?” the therapist asked.
Jeno surprised them both by answering.
This wasn’t part of the bit. He could tell. The air felt different—quieter.
“I think,” he said slowly, choosing each word carefully, “I learned early on that being easy was safer.”
Haechan turned fully toward him.
“If I didn’t complain,” Jeno continued, eyes fixed on his hands, “people stayed. So I stopped asking for things. Stopped taking up space.”
The therapist nodded encouragingly. “And how does that show up here?”
Jeno exhaled. “I say yes when I want to say no. I agree even when I’m uncomfortable. Because I don’t want to be… inconvenient.”
Haechan’s jaw tightened.
“And sometimes,” Jeno added quietly, “I don’t know if people like me—or just the version of me that doesn’t cause trouble.”
Silence settled over them.
Haechan didn’t joke. Didn’t interrupt. He just listened.
Jeno glanced up once, caught Haechan watching him with an expression he hadn’t seen before—gentle, focused, like he was committing something to memory.
For the first time since this ridiculous game started, Jeno felt like he was being seen.
And weirdly?
He didn’t want it to stop.
***
“Why do you want this to work out?” the therapist asked.
They were quiet.
Then Haechan said, honestly, “Because I didn’t think I’d care.”
Jeno met his eyes.
“Do you see a future together?”
They looked at each other.
Awkward. Soft. Something like hope curling between them.
“…Maybe,” Jeno said.
Haechan smiled. Real this time.
***
Outside, the air felt different.
“Well,” Haechan said, hands in his pockets, “that was emotionally invasive.”
Jeno huffed a laugh. “You’re… not what I expected.”
“Good or bad?”
“…Good.”
Haechan tilted his head. “Hey. What's your name again?”
“Jeno.”
“Haechan,” he said. Then, gentler, “Wanna get coffee? Like—without pretending we’re in love.”
Jeno smiled. Small. Genuine.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’d like that.”
And for once, Haechan didn’t feel like he was pretending at all.