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Jay never knocked.
Jake had told him a hundred times to just come in. You live here too, don’t you? So Jay let himself in with a soft smile, grocery bag hanging from his wrist, already rehearsing the joke he was going to make about the ridiculous cereal Jake liked.
He didn’t expect laughter.
Not like that.
It wasn’t Jake’s laugh alone. It was softer, breathier, unfamiliar.
Jay froze halfway down the hall. The bedroom door was open.
He saw bare shoulders first. Then Jake’s hand where it didn’t belong. Then Jake’s voice, low, intimate, in a tone Jay knew too well.
The bags slipped from his hand and hit the floor.
Jake turned. For a split second there was silence.
“Jay--”
Jay didn’t stay to hear the rest.
<><><><>
By Monday, everyone knew.
Jake, the golden boy, who had been dating Jay for almost a year, had apparently been seeing someone else.
Jay walked through the campus like a ghost. Whispers followed him. Pitying looks. The worst kind.
He didn’t cry. He didn’t break down. He didn’t text Jake back.
Instead, he did something reckless.
He found Park Sunghoon.
Jake’s biggest rival. Top of the department. Ice-cold reputation. The kind of guy who never smiled unless it meant something. Someone Jay had learned to dislike solely because his boyfriend hated him.
Sunghoon was alone in a practice studio when Jay walked in.
Sunghoon glanced at him through the mirror. “You’re in the wrong room.”
“I don’t think I am,” Jay said.
Sunghoon turned slowly. And for the first time since everything shattered, Jay felt something sharp and electric instead of hollow.
“Go out with me,” Jay said.
Sunghoon blinked once. “You don’t even like me.”
“Maybe I could.”
Sunghoon studied him carefully. Too carefully. “You’re trying to make your little boyfriend angry.”
Jay didn’t deny it.
Sunghoon’s lips twitched.
“Interesting.”
<><><><>
They made it official three days later.
Not quietly.
Sunghoon walked Jay across campus with deliberate slowness. Sat too close in the cafeteria. Let his hand linger at Jay’s waist just long enough for people to notice.
Jake noticed.
Jay saw it. The tightening jaw, the disbelief, the wounded pride.
Good.
But something strange happened along the way.
Sunghoon wasn’t cruel.
He didn’t use Jay as a prop. He didn’t push him into anything uncomfortable. Every touch came with a questioning glance, a silent is this okay?
It was infuriating.
Jay didn’t want gentleness.
He wanted chaos.
“Why did you really agree to help me?” Jay asked one evening as they sat on the steps outside the studio.
Sunghoon leaned back on his hands. “Because Jake Sim hates losing.”
“That’s it?”
Sunghoon turned his head slightly. “And because I’ve always thought you deserved better.”
Jay forgot how to breathe for a second.
That wasn’t part of the plan.
<><><><>
Heeseung found them about a week after the incident.
Jay had seen him once, just once, in that awful frozen moment in the bedroom. But up close, Heeseung looked nothing like a villain.
He looked nervous.
“I didn’t know,” Heeseung said immediately. “I swear, I didn’t know he had a boyfriend.”
Sunghoon crossed his arms.
Jay’s chest tightened. “He didn’t tell you?”
Heeseung shook his head. “If I had known, I would’ve never… I’m not that kind of person.”
The anger Jay had carefully built cracked.
Heeseung looked genuinely upset. Guilty in a way that didn’t feel performative.
“He told me you broke up months ago,” Heeseung said quietly.
Jay laughed once. It wasn’t amused.
Sunghoon swore under his breath.
For the first time, Jay realized something. Jake hadn’t just betrayed him. He’d lied to Heeseung too.
They had a common enemy.
Jay raised an eyebrow. “You want revenge?”
Heeseung hesitated for only a second. “Yes.”
<><><><>
It was almost fun.
The three of them together were chaos in the best way. Study sessions that turned into inside jokes. Public outings that made headlines in their tiny university social circle.
Jake tried to confront Jay twice.
Sunghoon intercepted him once, an encounter that left Jake fuming as he stomped away.
Heeseung caught him the second time.
“You don’t get to be upset,” Heeseung said calmly. “You created this.”
Jake looked like someone had knocked the wind out of him.
But to Jay, revenge had started to blur into something else.
Sunghoon’s hand in Jay’s felt steady.
Heeseung’s laughter felt warm.
Late nights turned into real conversations. Confessions about insecurities. About pressure. About expectations.
Jay found himself smiling without forcing it.
This wasn’t supposed to feel so good.
<><><><>
They were all crammed into Sunghoon’s apartment after practice, sharing takeout boxes.
Heeseung had fallen asleep against Jay’s shoulder. Sunghoon was watching them both with a softness that didn’t match his usual sharp edges.
“What?” Jay asked.
“You’re not doing this for revenge anymore, are you?” Sunghoon asked.
Jay opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. Because Sunghoon was right.
When Heeseung stirred slightly, Jay instinctively adjusted so he’d be more comfortable.
And when Sunghoon reached over to brush a strand of hair from Jay’s face, it felt natural. Wanted.
Terrifying.
“Oh,” Jay whispered.
Sunghoon smiled faintly. “Yeah.”
<><><><>
Jake unraveled loudly.
He missed rehearsals, snapped at people, and tried to win Jay back with grand gestures that fell flat.
But Jay wasn’t watching him anymore.
Sunghoon confessed first.
“I started this to annoy him,” he admitted. “But I don’t want it to end.”
Heeseung followed, softer but no less certain. “I like you. Not because of him. Because you’re you.”
Jay looked at both of them. At the boy who had been his enemy by association, and the boy who had accidentally walked into the same lie he did.
And he felt something steady.
“I don’t want to choose,” Jay said honestly.
Sunghoon’s eyebrow lifted. Heeseung blinked.
Then Heeseung laughed nervously. “Are you saying--?”
“I’m saying,” Jay said, heart pounding, “I think I fell for both of you.”
Silence.
Then Sunghoon huffed a quiet laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”
Heeseung smiled, cheeks pink. “I’m okay with that.”
Sunghoon looked at Heeseung.
Then back at Jay.
“...I am too.”
<><><><>
Jake became background noise.
A cautionary tale.
But Jay?
Jay stopped living for revenge.
He walked across campus now with two hands intertwined in his, one steady and cool, one warm and reassuring.
The whispers didn’t sting anymore.
Because this time, when he laughed, it was real.
And when someone asked how it all started, Sunghoon would smirk and say, “Spite.”
Heeseung would shake his head fondly.
And Jay would smile, knowing that sometimes the worst endings make room for the best beginnings.