Archive of Our Own

Jaehyun actually liked his job. The pay was generous enough to keep his bank account comfortable, and there was satisfaction in the reality of the stationery and paper office. He spent his days analyzing the grain of premium cardstock, comparing the ink absorption of different ledger papers, and organizing wholesale orders for boutique retailers. It was grounded work. Stable. The only problem was the geography of it all.

His apartment sat on the distant outer rim of the city, a location that demanded a brutal, soul-draining transit each way. Every morning, he packed himself into train cars alongside hundreds of other exhausted commuters, swaying in mindless unison as the gray skyline slowly blurred past the fogged windows. By the time he reached his desk, the persistent ache in his shoulders was already present, a heavy toll collected before his workday had even begun. Renting closer was the obvious solution, but the real estate market in the city center was unforgiving—designed for executives with expense accounts, not mid-level paper specialists.

"I am just saying, it is unsustainable," Jaehyun muttered, leaning against the edge of Sungho’s cubicle partition. He traced the smooth edge of a deep blue sample folder, his voice dropping into a low exhausted register. "I looked at a studio unit yesterday evening. Barely bigger than a storage closet. You could touch the stove from the bed. The landlord still wanted half my paycheck."

Sungho did not look up. He was busy tapping away on his phone screen, a rapid movement of thumbs against glass.

"Are you even listening?" Jaehyun asked, dropping the folder onto the desk with a soft thud.

"I am listening," Sungho replied, though his eyes remained firmly fixed on the glowing screen. "Closet. Paycheck. Transit is hell. You hate the train."

Jaehyun sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. Sungho was a good friend, practically his only confidant in the sprawling office, but his sympathy tank had clearly run dry weeks ago. It was hard to blame him. Jaehyun knew he sounded like a broken record, playing the same tired melody of housing complaints every lunch break.

Sungho paused his typing. A frown tugged at the corner of his mouth before smoothing out into a thin line. He finally looked up, his phone lowered, his gaze turning assessing.

"You need a place," Sungho stated.

"We already established that," Jaehyun replied dryly.

"And my friend, Sanghyeok, needs a roommate," Sungho continued, tapping the edge of his phone against his palm. "Desperately. He is looking at this massive well-priced unit right in the center of the district. Perfect location. South-facing windows. But there is a catch."

Jaehyun narrowed his eyes, a familiar cynicism creeping in. "What kind of catch?"

"The building management only leases to young couples. It is an exclusive community initiative. They want a specific, curated demographic," Sungho explained, leaning back in his chair, the gears visibly turning in his head. "Sanghyeok has the deposit ready. He even has a dog. Well, a newly adopted puppy. But he lacks a partner to sign the lease. You lack an apartment. It is simple math."

Jaehyun stared at him. "You want me to commit housing fraud with a stranger."

"I want you to stop complaining about your commute," Sungho corrected easily. "Just meet him. Hear him out."

The coffee shop Sungho selected for their introduction was situated halfway between the corporate office and the dance studio where Sanghyeok worked. Jaehyun arrived fifteen minutes early, clutching a tall iced Americano to steady his nerves. The air inside the café was thick with the scent of roasted beans and vanilla syrup. He kept running the absurd premise through his head. Faking a romantic relationship for a lease. It sounded like the flimsy plot of a weekend television drama. Yet, the phantom ache in his lower back from that morning’s suffocating train ride pushed firmly back against his hesitation.

The brass bell above the café door chimed, cutting through the low hum of conversation.

Jaehyun looked up and immediately recognized the man walking in, based on the brief details Sungho had provided. Lee Sanghyeok carried himself with the effortless, loose-limbed grace of a dancer, though his attire leaned heavily into a comfortable, layered chaos. He wore an oversized, slightly distressed cream cardigan slouched naturally over a bright red-and-white checkered hoodie, the thick fabric pooling around his waist above loose, baggy denim jeans. Layered silver chains rested against his collar, catching the café's warm overhead lighting. It was a striking visual, framed by a bright, messy shock of bleached blond hair and a surprisingly soft face, his expressive eyes scanning the room with a mild curiosity.

Jaehyun blinked, caught momentarily off guard by the undeniable thought that bloomed in his mind: He is incredibly cute.

Jaehyun instantly swallowed the thought, physically washing it down with a long sip of iced coffee. It was just an objective observation, he told himself. He worked with visual materials all day; he knew how to appreciate good composition. It meant absolutely nothing else.

Sanghyeok spotted him sitting alone in the corner booth and approached the table, a hesitant, slightly guarded smile breaking across his features.

"Myung Jaehyun?" he asked. His voice as soft as his face, carrying a polite, melodic lilt.

"Yes. Hi. You must be Lee Sanghyeok," Jaehyun said, standing up a bit too quickly, his knee brushing against the underside of the table. He extended a hand.

Sanghyeok looked at the hand, then up at Jaehyun’s face, before reaching out to grasp it. Their handshake was too formal, steeped in a rigid, comedic awkwardness. It lingered a second too long before they both hastily pulled away, simultaneously taking their seats and avoiding direct eye contact.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the small wooden table. Jaehyun tapped the side of his condensation-covered glass. Sanghyeok traced the circular water rings left on the wood grain.

"So," Sanghyeok started, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter. "Sungho mentioned you work with paper."

"I do," Jaehyun nodded, eager for a safe, neutral topic. "Stationery supplies, mostly. Wholesale distribution for retailers. It pays well, but the commute from my current place is terrible."

"I see." Sanghyeok paused, his lips twitching slightly as a different light sparked in his eyes. "Do you know why the paper could not move?"

Jaehyun stared at him, bewildered by the out-of-context pivot. "Um. No?"

"Because it was stationary." Sanghyeok delivered the punchline with a straight face, though his eyes widened slightly with anticipation.

Jaehyun felt his brain stall. He stared blankly at the man sitting across from him. It was a dad joke. A terrible, unapologetic, agonizingly dry dad joke delivered right in the middle of a high-stakes, potentially illegal housing negotiation. Jaehyun forced a polite strained exhale through his nose that vaguely resembled a chuckle.

"Right. Stationery," Jaehyun murmured, his tone flat.

Sanghyeok’s hopeful stare faltered slightly, realizing the joke had crashed and burned. He rubbed the back of his neck, a faint flush creeping up his ears. "Sungho said you were serious. I guess he was not exaggerating."

"I am not. I’m just..." Jaehyun sighed, letting the stiffness drop from his shoulders. The absurdity of the encounter managed to diffuse his nervous energy. "I am just really tired of taking the train, Sanghyeok-ssi."

"I get it," Sanghyeok said, his tone shifting into something far more grounded and genuine. The playful demeanor faded, replaced by a weary sincerity that Jaehyun instantly recognized. It was the exact same exhaustion he saw in his bathroom mirror every morning. "Look, I need this apartment. The dance studio is three blocks away. It cuts my travel time to nothing, and the space is perfect. But the management is incredibly strict. They want proof of a joint life. Utility bills in both names, shared spaces, the whole facade."

"And the puppy?" Jaehyun asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Oh, you know the puppy? Her name is Fish. She is a Chihuahua. A gift from a friend," Sanghyeok explained, his expression softening noticeably at the mention of the dog. "She is tiny, very well-behaved. The building allows pets, provided it belongs to a family unit. A single guy with a dog does not fit their aesthetic, apparently."

Jaehyun folded his hands on the table. The bizarre nature of the situation remained, but the practicalities were too good to easily dismiss. A south-facing apartment in the city center. A five-minute walk to the subway. A bedroom to himself, carefully disguised as a guest room or a home office whenever management came knocking.

"What are the rules? I mean our rules.. or are we making it right now?" Jaehyun asked, his voice steady.

“Already made it, wait,” Sanghyeok reached into his pocket and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper, sliding it across the table. It was a list, written in precise, careful handwriting.

1. Rent and utilities are split evenly.
2. Household chores are divided weekly.
3. We maintain the act outside the apartment and in front of management at all times.
4. No crossing boundaries in private.

Jaehyun read over the list twice. It was simple. Mostly still safe mandatory. It treated their shared living arrangement like a business transaction, which was exactly the boundary he needed to feel secure.

"I usually do my laundry on Sunday mornings," Jaehyun noted, glancing up from the paper.

"I can easily take Tuesdays," Sanghyeok offered, a hint of relief bleeding into his voice.

They stared at each other for a long moment amidst the bustling noise of the coffee shop. Two near-strangers, bound together by the unforgiving housing market and the tedious reality of urban living. Jaehyun looked at Sanghyeok’s earnest expression, purposely ignoring the lingering echo of that terrible paper pun and the pull of the man's attractive features. They understood each other's desperation perfectly; it was a solid foundation to build a lie upon.

"Alright," Jaehyun finally said, sliding the paper back toward the center of the table. "Let’s convince a landlord we are in love."

Sanghyeok let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for several minutes. A genuine relieved smile washed over his face, bright enough to make Jaehyun’s chest tighten inexplicably.

"Thank you. Truly," Sanghyeok said softly. "I will text you the move-in details tonight."

They did not attempt to shake hands again. The agreement hung in the air between them, solidifying their bizarre new reality. Jaehyun took a long slow sip of his watered-down Americano, gazing out the café window at the setting sun, wondering exactly what kind of performance he had just committed himself to.

Jaehyun hauled the last taped cardboard box into the entryway, his shoulders aching from the repetitive strain. He dropped the box onto the hardwood floor with a heavy thud, rolling his neck to release the tension. Sunlight streamed generously through the large, south-facing windows, casting long, warm shadows across the spacious living room. It was a beautiful apartment, worth the logistical headache, but the reality of his new living situation was still settling heavily in his chest.

A frantic tapping sound rapidly approached from down the hall.

Jaehyun looked down just as a tiny, trembling blur skidded to a halt mere inches from his sneakers. It was a Chihuahua. She was impossibly small, possessing oversized bat-like ears that swiveled back and forth, tracking every micro-movement he made. The puppy let out a tiny boof that lacked any real intimidation, then proceeded to thoroughly sniff the toe of Jaehyun’s shoe.

"That is Fish," Sanghyeok said, emerging from the kitchen. He held two chilled cans of sparkling water, clad comfortably in loose sweatpants and an oversized white t-shirt. He looked at ease in the sunlight. "Cute, right? She is harmless, mostly just vibrating energy."

Jaehyun crouched down slowly, extending a single knuckle. Fish leaned forward, her wet nose bumping against his skin before she offered a sandpaper-rough lick. A small smile tugged at Jaehyun’s lips. "I think we will get along fine."

"Good," Sanghyeok tossing one of the cans to Jaehyun. "Because we have a much bigger problem than the dog. Our appointment with the building management is in twenty minutes to finalize the residency checks. We need to drop the polite speech. We sound like two colleagues at a board meeting."

Jaehyun popped the tab on his water, taking a long sip to buy himself a moment. Sanghyeok was right. Their dialogue had remained rigidly formal since the coffee shop, safely wrapped in honorifics and polite distance. To sell the illusion of a couple securing an exclusive lease, that distance had to vanish entirely.

"Alright," Jaehyun said, he cleared his throat. "Let’s practice. Sanghyeok-ah."

Saying the name without the attached formalities felt strange. It rolled off his tongue with an unfamiliar weight, bridging a gap he wasn't prepared to cross.

Sanghyeok nodded encouragingly, though his fingers tapped nervously against his aluminum can. "Okay. Now, try something a bit more... domestic. Ask me if I packed the lease documents."

Jaehyun stared at the ceiling, bracing himself. "Did you pack the folders... Jagi?"

Sanghyeok immediately choked on his water, coughing violently into the crook of his elbow. His face turned a rapid, splotchy pink. Jaehyun winced, stepping forward to pat the other man's back, a strained grimace spreading across his own face.

"That was terrible," Sanghyeok wheezed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "It sounded like you’re in a guess show."

"I am trying my best," Jaehyun defended defensively, rubbing the back of his neck. "Let's just stick to casual names and physical proximity. Minimal pet names."

The leasing office on the ground floor felt intentionally intimidating. The manager, a stern man with narrowed eyes and a clipboard, sat across from them, scrutinizing their paperwork with agonizing slowness. Jaehyun sat on the small leather sofa, aware of the microscopic space between him and Sanghyeok.

Remembering their strategy, Jaehyun consciously shifted his weight, closing the gap until their thighs pressed together. He rested his hand casually on Sanghyeok’s knee. Beneath the fabric of Sanghyeok’s jeans, the muscle instantly seized. Jaehyun kept his expression neutral, though his own heartbeat drummed fastly against his ribs. He traced a slow circle with his thumb against the denim, a calculated gesture meant purely for the manager's benefit.

Sanghyeok swallowed hard, leaning his shoulder against Jaehyun’s arm, offering a tight, convincing smile to the manager.

"Everything appears to be in order," the manager finally hummed, stamping the final page of the lease. "Welcome to the community. We pride ourselves on fostering a wonderful environment for young couples."

They offered identical, polite bows and practically fled toward the elevator.

The moment the metal doors slid shut, Jaehyun retracted his hand as if he had touched a hot stove. They stood on opposite sides of the small metal box, watching the floor numbers tick upward in utter stillness, catching their breath.

"We survived," Sanghyeok muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"Barely," Jaehyun agreed.

The elevator chimed, depositing them onto their floor. Just as Jaehyun retrieved his keys, the door to the adjacent unit swung wide open. A woman in her late twenties bounded into the hallway, her face lighting up with delight the second she spotted them.

"Oh! You must be the new couple in 402!" she clapped her hands together, practically bouncing on her heels. "I am Jung Minji, from 403. It is so incredibly wonderful to see more young couples moving in. The building has been so dull lately, just old retirees complaining about the garbage sorting!"

Panic flared instantly in Jaehyun's chest. Beside him, Sanghyeok froze, his eyes widening slightly.

Operating purely on survival instinct, Jaehyun reached out, sliding his arm smoothly around Sanghyeok’s waist and pulling him flush against his side. To steady himself, Sanghyeok’s hands instinctively flew up, resting flat against the center of Jaehyun's chest. Jaehyun could distinctly feel the rapid, startled flutter of Sanghyeok’s heartbeat against his side.

"Nice to meet you, Minji-ssi. I’m Myung Jaehyun, and this is my partner, Lee Sanghyeok," Jaehyun smiled, channeling every ounce of his corporate client-facing charm. He tilted his head down, their cheeks practically brushing. "We just finished finalizing the paperwork."

Minji cooed, completely oblivious to the rigid, trembling tension radiating beneath their affectionate pose. "You two are absolutely adorable. Seriously, let me know if you need anything at all! I know how stressful moving in together can be."

"Thank you," Sanghyeok managed to squeak out, his voice a full octave higher than normal.

They practically stumbled through their front door, locking it securely before simultaneously collapsing back against the wood. They didn't speak, only sharing a look of profound, shared exhaustion.

A week passed, and the transition into cohabitation became a clumsy dance of avoiding each other in the narrow hallway and silently negotiating refrigerator space. On a rainy Friday evening, Sungho appeared at their door holding a cheap six-pack of beer and a hideous, neon-pink plastic flamingo.

"Happy fake housewarming," Sungho announced, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. He tossed the plastic bird onto the coffee table. "I figured you guys needed something tasteless to distract from the scent of deception around here."

Jaehyun rolled his eyes, collecting the beers and heading toward the kitchen. "Your support is overwhelming, Sungho-yah."

When Jaehyun returned to the living room with three opened cans, he stopped in the hallway. Near the balcony doors, Sungho was leaning in close to Sanghyeok. Sungho muttered something inaudible, his tone low and conspiratorial. Jaehyun couldn't catch a single syllable, but the reaction was instantaneous.

A violent, furious blush spread rapidly up Sanghyeok’s neck, blooming bright red across his ears and cheeks. Sanghyeok shoved Sungho’s shoulder with too much force, his eyes darting frantically toward the hallway where Jaehyun stood. Upon making eye contact, Sanghyeok immediately looked away, vigorously rubbing the back of his neck, his face still burning.Jaehyun frowned, a strange, unidentifiable knot tightening in his stomach.

For the next two hours, the atmosphere remained relaxed. There was no need for performative affection or calculated touches. They complained about work, laughed at the ridiculous plastic flamingo, and watched Fish chase her own tail until she collapsed into an exhausted heap on Sanghyeok’s lap. It felt easy. It felt normal.

When it was finally time for Sungho to leave, Jaehyun and Sanghyeok walked him to the front door, slipping their shoes on to walk him to the elevator. Sungho was halfway through a complicated complaint about their office manager when the door to unit 403 clicked open.

Minji stepped out, carrying a neatly tied bag of recycling. Her face immediately brightened. "Oh, hello again!"

The relaxed platonic atmosphere shattered into a million pieces.

Jaehyun practically lunged. He wrapped his arm tightly around Sanghyeok’s shoulders, dragging him into a sudden, aggressive side-hug. Caught off guard, Sanghyeok stumbled sideways, his face colliding softly with Jaehyun’s collarbone. Desperate to recover and sell the act, Sanghyeok hastily wrapped both of his arms around Jaehyun’s torso, burying his face in Jaehyun’s neck to hide his panicked, flustered expression.

Sungho stopped mid-sentence. His jaw literally dropped.

He stared at the two of them glued together in the doorway, a look of profound secondhand embarrassment washing over his face. Sungho slowly shook his head, looking repulsed by the stiff, unnatural, overly dramatic display unfolding right in front of him.

"Having a friend over?" Minji beamed, her eyes sparkling as she looked at the deeply intertwined pair.

"Yes," Jaehyun choked out. His throat felt incredibly dry. He absentmindedly brought his hand up, stroking the back of Sanghyeok’s hair, his fingers tangling awkwardly in the soft strands. He could feel Sanghyeok breathing heavily against his collar, short, warm puffs of air that sent a shiver trailing directly down his spine. "My friend were just gonna leaving. We were just saying goodbye."

"Right. Leaving," Sungho muttered, his face contorting into a grimace as he backed away toward the elevator, putting as much distance between them as quickly as possible. "I will let you lovebirds get back to... whatever this comedy show is. Have a terrific evening."

Minji waved cheerfully, entirely missing Sungho's sarcasm. The elevator dinged, swallowing Sungho whole.

The moment Minji turned the corner toward the trash chute, Jaehyun and Sanghyeok sprang apart as if a physical shock had violently separated them.

They had successfully fooled the leasing manager and survived the ambush from their overly enthusiastic neighbor, Minji. Yet, behind the locked door of unit 402, the reality of merging two different lives became glaringly obvious. Sanghyeok was a creature of meticulous structure. He treated his physical environment with the same rigorous discipline as his choreography. Every object had a specific mark. He preferred his sneakers aligned exactly parallel to the entryway mat, his workout gear neatly folded, and the bathroom counter devoid of clutter.

Jaehyun, conversely, used up every ounce of his functional energy at the office. By the time he returned from dealing with premium cardstock and wholesale distribution, he wanted nothing more than to shut down. He operated in a localized shifting radius of comfortable chaos.

It started with the mugs. Sanghyeok walked into the kitchen on a Tuesday morning, his eyes immediately drawn to a half-empty ceramic cup abandoned dangerously close to the edge of the island counter. A damp tea bag rested on the granite, leaving a faint brown halo.

Sanghyeok exhaled a long, slow breath, picking up the damp bag and dropping it into the trash.

"Morning," Jaehyun yawned, shuffling into the kitchen wearing a pair of overly large socks and a ratty gray hoodie. His hair was sticking up at odd angles. "Did you sleep well?"

"I slept fine," Sanghyeok replied, holding up the offending mug. "Do you plan on collecting these to build a ceramic fortress, or can I put this in the dishwasher?"

Jaehyun blinked, looking perplexed for a second before a sheepish grin spread across his face. "Ah. Sorry. I made chamomile tea last night because my brain was still buzzing from work. I forgot I put it there."

"Just put it in the sink next time," Sanghyeok said, sliding the mug into the machine.

"Noted," Jaehyun agreed easily, leaning against the refrigerator. He watched Sanghyeok pull a specific dark roast pod from his neatly arranged rack. "You know, your side of the bathroom counter looks like a display shelf at a pharmacy. I am almost terrified to leave my shaving cream in there."

"It is called organization, Jaehyun. It saves time in the morning."

"It is intimidating," Jaehyun countered with a light chuckle, pouring himself a glass of water. "But I will try to keep my stray things on my side, I guess."

The friction was never explosive. It was composed of tiny, daily adjustments, a constant tug-of-war of habits. Sanghyeok learned to step over Jaehyun’s bag left haphazardly by the door, and Jaehyun actively tried to remember to fold the throw blankets on the couch instead of leaving them in crumpled heaps.

The strangest dynamic, however, did not involve their cleaning habits at all. It involved the third resident of the apartment.

Fish was indifferent to the territorial boundaries her owner was trying to navigate. Despite Sanghyeok being the one who filled her food bowl and organized her toys, the tiny Chihuahua made a clear decision about her preferred human.

On a rainy Thursday evening, Jaehyun was sitting cross-legged on the living room rug, a video game paused on the television. He was mindlessly scrolling on his phone, thoroughly enjoying his lazy evening. Sanghyeok was draped over the sofa behind him, stretching his legs after a long day at the studio.

A faint clicking of claws echoed from the hallway. Fish trotted into the room, her oversized ears swiveling.

"Hey, Fish-ah," Sanghyeok called out, patting the empty cushion beside him. "Come here. Come up."

The puppy stopped. She looked up at Sanghyeok, let out a soft huff through her nose, and then completely ignored him. She trotted directly over to Jaehyun, stepping onto his left thigh, circling three times, and collapsing into warm lump against his stomach. Jaehyun froze, his fingers hovering over his phone screen. He glanced down at the sleeping dog, then slowly turned his head to look over his shoulder at Sanghyeok.

Sanghyeok stared at the scene, utterly betrayed. "How ungrateful. I literally bought her a premium salmon chew this morning. I am the one who carried her all the way from Donghyun's clinic across the city. How can she do this to me?”

"Animals are excellent judges of character," Jaehyun noted, dropping one hand to gently scratch the spot right behind Fish’s left ear. The puppy let out a long sigh of contentment.

"She is just using you because you run warm," Sanghyeok muttered, though there was no real malice in his voice, only a layer of amused disbelief. "You are just a convenient human heating pad."

"Jealousy does not suit you," Jaehyun retorted smoothly. "If you want her attention, maybe you should try relaxing a bit more."

Sanghyeok gives a chuckle—a bright sound that echoed warmly through the spacious apartment.

Another Saturday evening draped the apartment in warm, golden sunlight. The air carried the savory aroma of simmering doenjang jjigae, a testament to Sanghyeok’s presence in the kitchen. Jaehyun was sprawled on the living room rug, thoroughly enjoying his day off, with Fish curled into a small, snoring sphere against his hip.

The tranquility shattered with three rapid, booming knocks on the front door.

Jaehyun jolted upright. Fish let out a startled yip and scrambled under the coffee table. Frowning, Jaehyun pulled himself off the floor and padded toward the entryway. He swung the door open, unprepared for the sheer velocity of the person standing on the other side.

"Hyung!" Woonhak practically yelled, bursting into the apartment with a heavy backpack slung over one shoulder and a plastic bag of assorted convenience store snacks dangling from his wrist. Jaehyun’s younger cousin carried the perpetual, chaotic energy of a college student running purely on caffeine and late-night study sessions.

Before Jaehyun could even offer a greeting or ask how his cousin can get into his unit, Woonhak dropped his bags onto the hardwood floor.

"Okay, look, I know you specifically said you were only giving me this address strictly for family emergencies," Woonhak started, waving a hand dismissively. "But the water heater in my dorm building completely died, my study group ran late, and I am desperately in need of a hot meal that doesn't come from a microwave. But honestly? Forget my tragic life for a second."

Woonhak’s eyes widened with a mixture of betrayal and intense curiosity. He jabbed a finger directly toward Jaehyun’s chest.

"Explain," Woonhak demanded. "Explain why the cheerful lady next door, who let me into the building by the way, just congratulated me on having such a handsome cousin-in-law. Since when do you live with your boyfriend? No.. better answer this, since when do you have A BOYFRIEND?"

Jaehyun’s blood ran cold. Panic seized his throat. He glanced past Woonhak’s shoulder and caught sight of Minji lingering in the hallway, holding a stack of mail and beaming directly at them with unwavering support. His mind raced, scrambling for a plausible excuse, a way to backtrack without blowing their cover to the leasing management. He opened his mouth, but only useless sound came out.

"Is someone at the door, babe?"

The voice drifted from the kitchen, smooth and perfectly modulated. Jaehyun turned his head just as Sanghyeok stepped into the entryway. He wore a navy blue apron over a simple white t-shirt, casually wiping his damp hands on the fabric. His expression was serene, giving away none of the internal panic Jaehyun was currently drowning in.

Sanghyeok moved closer, slipping his arm naturally around Jaehyun’s waist. The touch was grounding. He leaned his weight slightly against Jaehyun’s side, offering Woonhak a bright smile.

"You must be Kim Woonhak, Jaehyun’s cousin," Sanghyeok said warmly, extending his free hand. "Jaehyun has told me so much about you. I am Lee Sanghyeok."

Woonhak blinked, his jaw dropping an inch as he took in the sight of them. He slowly reached out to shake Sanghyeok’s hand, disarmed by the older man’s easy charm. Out in the hallway, Minji offered a delighted wave before finally retreating into her own unit.

The heavy oak door clicked shut, sealing them inside.

Jaehyun immediately exhaled a shaky breath, his shoulders dropping as the adrenaline receded. He expected Sanghyeok to instantly step back, to reinstate their physical boundaries now that the audience was gone. Instead, Sanghyeok let his hand linger on Jaehyun’s waist for an extra heartbeat, offering a reassuring squeeze before finally stepping away to return to the stove.

"Dinner is almost ready," Sanghyeok called back over his shoulder. "You can wash up, Woonhak-ssi, bathroom is on the left."

The next hour was a whirlwind of volume and motion. Woonhak practically vibrated in his seat at the coffee table, inhaling his bowl of stew while firing off a barrage of questions. He was a whirlwind of college gossip, complaining about his professors and recounting absurd stories from his dorm. Jaehyun sat back, fully expecting Sanghyeok to be overwhelmed by the force of Woonhak’s personality. His cousin was notoriously difficult to keep up with, prone to wild tangents and animated gestures.

To Jaehyun’s surprise, Sanghyeok matched the pace effortlessly.

When Woonhak aggressively pantomimed a story about dropping his laptop in a puddle, Sanghyeok laughed loudly, a full-chested sound, and immediately pushed a second helping of braised tofu toward the younger boy. They exchanged complaints about early morning transit, debated the best flavors of cheap instant ramen, and conspired over how to effectively sneak snacks into movie theaters.

Jaehyun found himself completely sidelined at his own dining table, silently watching the two of them interact. Sanghyeok was radiating warmth. The methodical, structured dancer was leaning forward, chin resting on his palm, engaged in Woonhak’s chaotic orbit. The sight sent a fluttering sensation directly into Jaehyun’s ribs. It was not just the fact that Sanghyeok had saved him from a disastrous slip-up at the front door. It was how naturally he fit into this space, how easily he welcomed a piece of Jaehyun’s real life into their fabricated one. Jaehyun was unconsciously captivated. He caught himself tracking the slope of Sanghyeok’s smile, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when Woonhak delivered a punchline.

Eventually, Woonhak declared he had to leave, citing a ten-page paper due at midnight that he had barely started. He hauled his heavy backpack onto one shoulder and turned to Jaehyun, wrapping his arms around his older cousin in a tight, crushing hug.

"So," Woonhak murmured, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper right next to Jaehyun’s ear. "Have you told auntie about him yet? Because I know she is going to absolutely lose her mind when she finds out you are already living with someone."

Jaehyun stiffened against the embrace. A freezing spike of dread shot straight through his chest. Between the chaotic move-in and navigating his new domestic routine, the reality of his weekly Sunday phone calls with his mother had bypassed his mind. If Woonhak casually mentioned this to the family, the fragile lie they had built for the leasing manager would spiral out of control.

"Not yet," Jaehyun hissed back softly, keeping his expression perfectly composed so Sanghyeok—who was currently packing leftover stew into a container a few feet away—would not notice the sudden panic. Jaehyun patted Woonhak’s back firmly, constructing a lie on the spot. "Listen, Sanghyeokie is... he is not quite ready for the parent introduction yet. He gets nervous about it. Let me be the one to break the news when the time is right. Just keep it between us for now, okay?"

Woonhak pulled back slightly, his expression shifting into a look of solemn understanding. He tapped his own chest twice, crowning himself with pride.

"Say no more. My lips are sealed," Woonhak declared, wearing the title of the best relative ever like a badge of honor. He glanced over at the kitchen, watching Sanghyeok hum quietly as he washed his hands. Woonhak's voice softened with genuine, uncharacteristic sincerity. "But seriously, hyung... he is really precious. He fits right in. Do not mess this up."

Jaehyun felt a complicated knot tighten in his stomach at the earnest advice. He looked past Woonhak's shoulder at the dancer standing in their kitchen, realizing how deeply he agreed with the sentiment.

"I will not," Jaehyun promised quietly.

Satisfied, Woonhak finally stepped back. He bounded over to the kitchen, slinging his arm effortlessly over Sanghyeok’s shoulders like they had been friends for years, securing a loud cheerful promise to return and raid their fridge again soon before finally disappearing out the front door. When the door finally closed, a heavy stillness settled back over the apartment.

Jaehyun gathered the empty bowls, carrying them to the kitchen sink. Sanghyeok stood next to him, turning on the faucet and rolling up his sleeves. They stood shoulder to shoulder, the residual warmth of the evening lingering in the narrow space between them.

"You two hit it off well," Jaehyun murmured, passing a rinsed plate over for Sanghyeok to scrub.

"He is great," Sanghyeok smiled, keeping his eyes on the soapy water. "Lots of energy. He reminds me of some of the younger trainees at the studio."

"He usually overwhelms people," Jaehyun admitted, leaning his hip against the counter. "I was worried you would find him annoying."

Sanghyeok paused his scrubbing. He turned his head, his gaze meeting Jaehyun’s. A mischievous glint appeared in his dark eyes, pulling one corner of his mouth upward.

"I had to make sure he liked me," Sanghyeok said, his voice dropping into a teasing register. "Consider it my revenge. You stole my dog’s loyalty. It is only fair I steal your favorite cousin."

Jaehyun let out a snort, shaking his head. He looked down at his hands, suddenly aware of the steady sound of the running water and the comforting proximity of the man standing beside him. The boundary between their lie and the reality was deteriorating faster than he could track, and standing right there in the warm kitchen, Jaehyun realized he had no desire to rebuild it.

The aftermath of Woonhak’s visit left a permanent dent in the armor they had constructed. Jaehyun began cataloging Sanghyeok’s habits without consciously making the decision to do so. He learned that the dancer always tapped his fingers against his thigh in steady eight-counts while waiting for the microwave to beep. He noticed how Sanghyeok dragged his feet slightly when he was exhausted, and how he preferred to drink his water at room temperature to protect his throat.

The effort was mutual. Sanghyeok learned to give Jaehyun fifteen-minute buffer of absolute stillness the moment he walked through the door from the office, allowing the corporate exhaustion to evaporate before initiating conversation. Without asking, Sanghyeok started leaving the dark roast coffee pods exactly where Jaehyun could reach them blindly in the morning.

Their lives were weaving together. No longer two strangers splitting rent; they were two people actively making space for each other.

The overhead lighting of the corporate office hummed a monotonous tune. Sungho stood beside Jaehyun's desk, holding a stack of premium textured paper samples and an annotated logistics spreadsheet. He had been standing there for the better part of thirty minutes, attempting to consult on the new vendor distribution routes.

Jaehyun, however, was captivated by the glowing screen of his smartphone.

"Look at this," Jaehyun interrupted, ignoring Sungho’s detailed breakdown of shipping tariffs. He tilted his screen toward his coworker. "She figured out how to spin in a complete circle for a dried salmon treat. It only took her three days to learn the mechanics."

Sungho stared blankly at the short video playing on a loop. A tiny Chihuahua was spinning clumsily on a familiar woven living room rug.

"I actually don’t like dogs at all," Sungho stated, his expression completely deadpan.

"Mhm, yes, very nice," Jaehyun hummed happily, missing the remark. His eyes were glazed over with pure parental adoration. He swiped his thumb to the left. "Here is a picture of her sleeping under the coffee table. Look at the way her ears fold over."

Sungho let out a deep exhausted sigh. He reached out, pushing Jaehyun’s hand and the smartphone down toward the desk. In one fluid motion, he replaced the device with the stack of vendor spreadsheets, planting the documents right in front of Jaehyun’s face.

"The logistics route, Jaehyun," Sungho prompted, tapping the top of the paper. "We need approval on the secondary shipping lane before lunch."

Jaehyun blinked, the spell abruptly broken. He let out a mild sigh of his own, his posture straightening as he seamlessly slipped back into his corporate persona. He scanned the columns and numbers for several seconds, his brain easily shifting gears.

"Route B is inefficient due to the current fuel surcharges," Jaehyun concluded, his tone formal and decisive. "Redirect the bulk orders through the eastern corridor, but keep the premium cardstock on the express line. It will balance the overhead. I will sign off on the authorization right now."

Sungho snatched the spreadsheet back, looking satisfied. "Thank you. If you had just given me that answer thirty minutes ago, I would not have been forced to stand here and listen to your newlyweds life."

Jaehyun rolled his eyes, picking up his phone again. "I was just showing you a picture of a cute dog, Sungho-yah. It is not marriage life."

"Right. Just a dog," Sungho retorted, turning on his heel to walk back toward his own cubicle. "The dog you entirely consider as your own daughter."

Jaehyun scoffed lightly, shrugging his shoulders as Sungho disappeared down the aisle. He unlocked his screen again, intending to close the gallery app and return to his unread emails. His thumb mindlessly swiped one more time to the left. The screen landed on a photo he did not even remember taking. It was not a solo picture of Fish. The image captured the living room floor, bathed in golden afternoon sunlight. Sanghyeok was lying on his stomach on the rug, his face resting comfortably on his crossed arms. He was smiling brightly, a relaxed expression as Fish pawed playfully at his nose. The dancer’s hair was a little messy, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine joy. Jaehyun stared at the screen. The ambient noise of the office seemed to fade slightly into the background.

"Cute," Jaehyun murmured into the empty space of his cubicle. He blinked, suddenly startled by the sound of his own voice. A betraying heat crept rapidly up the back of his neck. He immediately locked the phone, tossing it face-down onto his desk as if the device had burned his palm.

He aggressively cleared his throat, pulling his keyboard closer. He was just looking at the dog. Fish was the cute one in the picture. He convinced himself of that fact very quickly, deciding absolutely, definitively, that he was not talking about her owner.

It was a Tuesday evening when Jaehyun’s phone vibrated against the coffee table. He was already settled into his lazy post-work routine, wearing loose sweatpants and flipping through television channel.

>THE boyfriend : I am so sorry
> I left my padded knee sleeves on the bathroom counter.
> My joints are killing me
> and I have one more advanced classes to teach.
> Can you please bring them?
> I swear
> I will buy dinner for the rest of the week.

A merely seconds later, another text immediately followed

>THE boyfriend : I am really sorry for the inconvenience.
> You don’t have to if you are too tired.

Jaehyun read the messages, a fond sigh escaping his lips. He typed a quick reply telling him to stop apologizing, grabbed his keys, and retrieved the black fabric sleeves from the counter. Glancing down, he saw Fish sitting patiently by the front door, her large ears perked up in anticipation.

"Alright," Jaehyun murmured, scooping the tiny dog up and settling her safely inside a soft canvas tote bag he slung over his shoulder. "Let’s go rescue your dad."

-

The ChillLIT dance studio was a cavernous space filled with the heavy thud of bass and the squeak of rubber soles against polished wood floors. Jaehyun navigated the brightly lit hallway, following the sound of upbeat hip-hop tracks. He peered through the glass wall of Studio B and spotted Sanghyeok instructing a group of teenagers, his movements fluid, precise, and mesmerizingly controlled.

Jaehyun pushed the glass door open just as the music faded out. Before he could even step fully into the room, a man with a towel draped around his neck intercepted him near the water cooler.

"Oh, hey!" the man grinned, his voice carrying effortlessly over the low chatter of the resting students. "Can I help yo—Wait.. I think I know you somewhere.. Oh! You must be the famous Jaehyun. I am Jinhyeok, one of the instructors here. Sanghyeok’s colleague."

Jaehyun blinked, adjusting his grip on the tote bag. "Famous?"

"Well, yeah," Jinhyeok laughed, leaning against the dispenser. "Sanghyeok told us all about the strict couples-only unit he managed to score. He even show your picture with his puppy. We have all been dying to meet the guy who finally got him to settle down."

Across the room, Sanghyeok whipped his head around, his eyes widening in pure horror as he caught the tail end of the conversation. He practically sprinted over, his face flushed a deep red.

"Jinhyeok-ah, please don’t bother him," Sanghyeok rushed out, stepping between them. He turned to Jaehyun, his voice dropping into hushed whisper. "I’m sorry. You don’t have to pretend here. We’re nowhere near the apartment. I will just tell him it’s a misunderstanding."

Sanghyeok opened his mouth to backtrack, preparing to dismantle the lie in front of his colleague. Jaehyun did not let him.

Operating on a reckless impulse, Jaehyun smiled warmly. He stepped closer, closing the distance until his shoulder brushed firmly against Sanghyeok’s. He reached out, his hand resting naturally on the small of Sanghyeok’s back, right over the damp fabric of his t-shirt.

"It’s great to finally meet you, Jinhyeok-ssi," Jaehyun said smoothly, his voice radiating ease. He trailed down Sanghyeok’s back slowly, feeling the dancer’s breath hitch beneath his palm. "Sanghyeokie talks about the studio all the time. I was just dropping off some gear he forgot at home."

Jinhyeok beamed, entirely convinced. "That is dedication, man. He works way too hard. Make sure he actually rests when he gets back."

"I always do," Jaehyun promised, his thumb tracing a slow, absentminded line against Sanghyeok’s spine.

Jinhyeok waved goodbye, heading toward the staff room. The moment the door clicked shut, Sanghyeok spun around, his chest heaving as he stared at Jaehyun with utterly bewildered eyes.

"What are you doing?" Sanghyeok hissed, pulling Jaehyun toward the corner of the studio, out of earshot of the lingering students. "I told you, the facade is only for the building management. You don’t have to perform for my coworkers."

Jaehyun reached into his pocket and handed over the folded knee sleeves, maintaining a composed expression to mask the rapid, betraying pulse of his own heartbeat.

"It’s called risk management," Jaehyun lied easily. "What if Jinhyeok decides to drop by the apartment unannounced, just like Woonhak did? If he already knows we are faking it, the narrative collapses. We have to be consistent across all social circles."

Sanghyeok stared at him, his lips parted slightly, clearly trying to find a flaw in the logic. "You... you doing that just to maintain a consistent narrative?"

"Here’s your knee sleeves so you can stop complaining about your joints," Jaehyun changed the subject instead, gesturing to the tote bag where Fish was happily poking her head out. "Look, I bring Fish too, for her change of scenery. Go finish your class."

Sanghyeok let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. The deep flush slowly faded from his cheeks, replaced by a genuine smile that made Jaehyun’s chest tighten. "Thank you. Stay there. My advanced class get cut, so I actually only have twenty minutes left."

Jaehyun sat down on the long wooden bench lining the mirrored wall. He placed the tote bag on his lap, resting his hand over Fish as she curled into a comfortable, sleeping ball against his stomach.

The music started again. Jaehyun watched.

He had always known Sanghyeok was a dancer, but seeing it in person was an entirely different experience. Stripped of his meticulous domestic routines, Sanghyeok transformed. He moved with a commanding, effortless power, absorbed in the tempo. Jaehyun watched the way his muscles flexed beneath his shirt, the intense focus in his eyes, the gravity of his presence commanding the room. It was captivating. Jaehyun sat perfectly still on the bench, his hand absentmindedly stroking the sleeping puppy, unable to look away.

Twenty minutes later, the studio emptied out. Sanghyeok grabbed his duffel bag, his hair damp with sweat, looking thoroughly exhausted but content. They walked back to the apartment side by side. The night air was cool, offering a refreshing contrast to the stifling heat of the studio. The streets were mostly empty, bathed in the soft glow of streetlamps. There was no one around to perform for, no neighbors to convince, and no coworkers to impress. Yet, as they walked, their shoulders continuously brushed. Their strides matched perfectly, falling into an identical flow. Jaehyun carried the sleeping dog, and Sanghyeok walked close enough that Jaehyun could feel the radiating warmth of his body.

It felt infinitely more intimate than any exaggerated touch they had staged for the leasing manager.

Thursday evening arrived with a drumming downpour against the south-facing windows, casting the apartment in a cool gray light. Jaehyun was in the middle of a mundane chore, sorting a basket of dry laundry on the floor of his bedroom. He reached for a folded stack of towels, suddenly realizing they were devoid of their usual jasmine scent.

He picked up an empty plastic bottle of fabric softener, letting out a mild sigh. He padded out of his room, walking down the short hallway in sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt.

Sanghyeok was in the living room, curled up on the corner of the sofa with Fish sleeping soundly against his thigh. A laptop was propped open on his knees. Jaehyun knew Sanghyeok had a regular video call schedule with his childhood best friend, Kim Donghyun. The one who gift Sanghyeok a puppy and named her “Fish”, just because. Out of a sense of respect and basic courtesy, Jaehyun always made a point to stay out of the frame, allowing Sanghyeok his private space.

But today, lost in the haze of household chores, Jaehyun completely forgot. He walked directly behind the sofa, leaning over the backrest to peek down at Sanghyeok. "Did you use the rest of the jasmine softener on your workout gear again? I cannot find the new bottle anywhere."

Sanghyeok jumped slightly, his eyes darting from the screen up to Jaehyun. Before he could even formulate an apology, a deeply amused voice echoed directly from the laptop speakers.

"He absolutely did. He uses way too much of it, doesn’t he? I used to tell him he smelled like a walking botanical garden."

Jaehyun froze. He slowly shifted his gaze to the glowing screen, coming face-to-face with a man boasting a bright smile and wear a pair of round wire-rimmed glasses.

"Ah," Jaehyun exhaled, his brain stalling. He scrambled for a polite greeting. "Hello."

"You must be THE Myung Jaehyun," Donghyun beamed, unbothered by the accidental intrusion. "I am Donghyun. It is nice to finally put a face to the name. Sanghyeokie-hyung has been hoarding you. And look, there is Fish! Hi, baby! Are you enjoying your new dad?"

Sanghyeok let out a flustered groan, burying his face in his hands. "Donghyun-ah, please. I am begging you to stop talking."

"Never," Donghyun laughed. He leaned closer to his camera, his expression shifting into something far more declarative. "Actually, I am glad you are both here. I have the weekend off from the clinic, so I am coming over this Saturday to officially inspect the apartment, check on Fish, and properly meet the new boyfriend. Oh, and I am bringing Dongmin with me."

"This Saturday?" Sanghyeok peeked through his fingers, his flush receding into mild surprise. "Wait, you are bringing him?"

"Yes. We will bring dinner. See you both then!" Donghyun waved cheerfully, and the screen abruptly went black. The sound of the rain against the glass filled the sudden silence. Jaehyun stepped back from the sofa, the empty plastic bottle still in his hand. He looked at Sanghyeok, tilting his head slightly.

"Who is Dongmin?" Jaehyun asked. The name felt unfamiliar. In all the passing conversations they had shared over late-night dinners, Sanghyeok had never mentioned anyone by that name.

"Donghyun's boyfriend," Sanghyeok replied, closing his laptop and setting it on the coffee table. He stretched his arms over his head, dislodging Fish, who let out a disgruntled grunt. "Come on. Let’s start on today dinner. It is my turn to cook, right?"

They migrated to the kitchen. The familiar and comfortable routine took over. Sanghyeok pulled out a cutting board and a bundle of green onions, while Jaehyun automatically retrieved the rice cooker from the lower cabinet.

"So," Jaehyun prompted, measuring out two cups of short-grain rice. "Donghyun's boyfriend. Have they been together long?"

"About a year," Sanghyeok explained, the sound of his knife hitting the wooden board filling the space between them. "Donghyunie is a veterinarian. Dongmin is a dentist. His practice is actually right next door to Donghyun's clinic. They met because Donghyun's building had a plumbing issue, and a pipe burst, flooding Dongmin's waiting room through the shared wall."

Jaehyun let out a short laugh, rinsing the rice under the faucet. "That is a terrible way to meet."

"It was a disaster," Sanghyeok agreed, smiling fondly at the memory. He paused his chopping, pushing the green onions to the side of the board. "But Dongmin handled it very well. He is just... very patient at that time. Really attentive and soft-spoken. Most people would have lost their temper over the water damage, but he just laughed it off and helped Donghyun mop the floors. He has this really gentle presence. Or maybe because he's being whipped, I don't know, but still, it's good for Donghyunie."

Jaehyun stopped moving. His hands rested on the edges of the metal sink insert. The water continued to run, splashing gently against the ceramic bowl. He turned his head to look at Sanghyeok. The dancer had a soft appreciative smile playing on his lips as he talked. It was a harmless act of recounting a friend's romantic history, yet something unpleasant suddenly pooled at the very bottom of Jaehyun’s stomach.

"You talk about this Dongmin guy like you really adore him," Jaehyun said. He intended for it to sound like a light teasing observation, but his voice came out a fraction tighter than he planned.

Sanghyeok let out an unrestrained laugh, reaching for a clove of garlic. "It is funny you say that. Because I actually had a massive crush on him before Donghyun even met him."

The running water sounded incredibly loud in Jaehyun's ears. He slowly turned the faucet off, grabbing a hand towel. "You did?"

"Yeah," Sanghyeok admitted carelessly, oblivious to the rigid tension radiating from Jaehyun’s side of the kitchen island. "I met him at a coffee shop a few months before the flood incident. We actually went on a date."

Jaehyun gripped the fabric of the towel. He swallowed the dry lump forming in his throat. "A date."

"Just one," Sanghyeok clarified, waving the garlic clove dismissively. "It was a flop. We looked good on paper, but sitting across from each other, we realized we had zero chemistry. We were just so similar that we are too different. It fizzled out before the appetizers even arrived."

Jaehyun leaned his hip against the counter. He watched Sanghyeok move around the kitchen, his mind racing to process the casual admission. "Does Donghyun know? About the date?"

Sanghyeok shook his head, finally turning to meet Jaehyun’s gaze. "No. And I don’t plan on telling him. It was just one meaningless dinner over a year ago. There is no reason to make things complicated or weird for them."

Sanghyeok turned back to the stove, turning the dial to ignite a blue ring of flame beneath a skillet. He moved with his usual easy grace, humming a low tune under his breath, unaffected by the secret he had just dropped onto the kitchen counter. Jaehyun remained still. He stared at the slope of Sanghyeok’s shoulders, the familiar line of his neck.

There was no logic to support the gnawing ache settling deep in his chest. It was irrational and suffocating. Jaehyun turned back to the sink, his appetite completely gone, silently dreading the arrival of Saturday.

Saturday arrived carrying a tension that only Jaehyun seemed to notice. The apartment was spotless, the result of Sanghyeok’s methodical morning cleaning routine. When the doorbell finally chimed, Jaehyun braced himself as if preparing for a physical confrontation.

Sanghyeok pulled the door open, immediately engulfed in an enthusiastic hug from Donghyun. Jaehyun stood a few paces back, his gaze sliding past the energetic veterinarian to the man standing in the hallway.

Dongmin was objectively handsome. He possessed a tall, sturdy frame draped in an expensive cashmere sweater. His features were remarkably gentle, his dark hair parted neatly, radiating an aura of polished competence and infuriating calmness. He carried two large, premium paper bags of takeout, offering a polite smile that instantly made Jaehyun’s teeth grind together.

This was the dentist. This was the man Sanghyeok had once wanted.

"Come in, come in," Sanghyeok beamed, ushering them inside. "Jaehyun, this is Donghyun and his boyfriend, Dongmin."

“Hello, Jaehyun-ssi, or can I call you hyung already from how much Sanghyeokie-hyung talks about you,” Donghyun greet him with an ease of a tease, but Jaehyun’s gaze remained still on the man beside him.

"Nice to meet you," Dongmin said, his voice a low drawl and extending his hand.

Jaehyun took it, his grip perhaps too firm. "Likewise."

They moved into the living room, setting the bags of braised short ribs and side dishes onto the coffee table. From the very beginning, the dynamic between the guests was blatant. Dongmin was irreversibly smitten with Donghyun. Every time the veterinarian spoke, Dongmin’s eyes tracked him with devotion, his hand resting casually on the back of Donghyun's shoulder or smoothing down a stray fold of his shirt. He was uninterested in revisiting any past history with Sanghyeok.

Jaehyun’s brain, however, firmly refused to accept the evidence. The mere knowledge that Dongmin had once sat across a table from Sanghyeok as a romantic prospect acted like a live wire in Jaehyun's chest.

The triggering moment occurred in the kitchen.

Sanghyeok was standing at the island counter, transferring the side dishes into their own ceramic bowls. He struggled with a tightly sealed plastic container of kimchi.

"Let me get that," Dongmin offered naturally, walking past Jaehyun to reach the counter.

It was a completely innocent gesture. Dongmin did not even look at Sanghyeok; his gaze was directed back toward the living room where Donghyun was playing with Fish. But as Dongmin reached out, his large hand wrapping over the plastic lid right next to Sanghyeok’s fingers, the proximity sent an irrational spike of adrenaline straight through Jaehyun’s veins.

Before he could process his own movement, Jaehyun stepped into the narrow space.

He bypassed the container entirely. Instead, Jaehyun slid his arm around Sanghyeok’s waist, his palm resting heavily against the dancer’s hip. He pulled Sanghyeok flush against his own chest, stepping neatly between him and Dongmin.

"I got it," Jaehyun stated, his tone carrying a crisp edge. He took the container from a startled Dongmin and popped the lid off effortlessly with his free hand, refusing to loosen his grip on Sanghyeok’s waist.

Dongmin blinked, mildly surprised, before giving a polite nod and returning to the living room.

Beneath Jaehyun’s arm, Sanghyeok stood perfectly still. He slowly turned his head to look over his shoulder, his eyes wide with utter bewilderment. He opened his mouth to speak, but Jaehyun merely offered a small dismissive smile and released him to carry the bowls to the table.

The dinner commenced. Woonhak’s visit had been a chaotic whirlwind, but this meal was an agonizingly drawn-out exercise in hyper-vigilance. Jaehyun hovered. He sat pressed so close to Sanghyeok that their knees remained in constant contact beneath the low table. Whenever Sanghyeok reached for a glass, Jaehyun intercepted it and handed it to him. Whenever Sanghyeok laughed at one of Donghyun’s jokes, Jaehyun made a point to rest his hand on the nape of Sanghyeok’s neck, his fingers trailing down the sensitive skin.

Donghyun seemed oblivious, chatting animatedly about a golden retriever he had treated that morning. Dongmin occasionally glanced over, a flicker of polite confusion crossing his gentle features before he returned his attention to his boyfriend.

But Sanghyeok was unnerved. The dancer’s posture grew increasingly rigid. He kept shooting questioning glances at Jaehyun, trying to decipher the overwhelming physical intensity.

The climax of the evening arrived as they were finishing their meal.

Donghyun had just delivered the punchline to a story, sending the table into a chorus of laughter. Sanghyeok chuckled, taking a bite of a braised rib. A tiny smudge of the savory sauce lingered near the corner of his bottom lip.

Normally, Jaehyun would hand him a napkin or barely pointing it out. If he were playing the role of the attentive fake boyfriend for the leasing manager, he might have gently wiped it away with his thumb. But the burning possessiveness in his chest bypassed logic. Jaehyun leaned in. He tilted his head, closing the microscopic distance between them, and pressed his lips against the corner of Sanghyeok’s mouth.

The table fell into a stunned hush.

Jaehyun let his lips linger for a deliberate second, savoring the warmth of Sanghyeok’s skin and the salty tang of the sauce, before slowly pulling back. His eyes remained locked on Sanghyeok.

"You had some sauce," Jaehyun murmured, his voice low baritone.

Sanghyeok’s eyes were blown wide, his cheeks flushing a violent brilliant red. He stared at Jaehyun, his lips parted in shock, paralyzed by the highly intimate contact. This was not part of any agreed-upon facade. This was a complete departure from their careful rules.

Across the table, Donghyun cleared his throat, an amused and slightly awkward smile breaking across his face. "Well. You two are certainly still in the honeymoon phase."

Jaehyun finally tore his gaze away from a paralyzed Sanghyeok, offering Donghyun a remorseless smile. "We are."

The rest of the dinner passed in a blur of mundane conversation, but the air around Jaehyun and Sanghyeok was thick and heavily charged. The protective surge had done its job, establishing a claim in front of the man from Sanghyeok's past. Yet, as Jaehyun felt the rigid tension radiating from the man sitting beside him, he slowly realized the terrifying corner he had just painted himself into.

-

The heavy oak door clicked shut, severing the polite farewells and sealing them back inside unit 402. The click sounded deafening in the sudden stillness of the hallway. Donghyun and Dongmin were gone. Left behind was the lingering scent of braised ribs and a suffocating air that seemed to press directly against Jaehyun’s chest.

Sanghyeok did not move away from the door immediately. He stood with his back to Jaehyun, his shoulders rigid, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. Slowly, he turned around. The usual warmth in his eyes was absent, replaced by a dark intensity.

"What was that?" Sanghyeok asked. His voice was low, devoid of its usual melodic lilt.

Jaehyun swallowed hard, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. He walked toward the living room, putting distance between them, aiming for a mask of nonchalance. "I don’t know what you mean. We had a good dinner."

"Don’t play dumb, Jaehyun-ah," Sanghyeok snapped, following him into the open space. He gestured toward the dining table. "The hovering. The constant grabbing. You practically climbed into my lap when Dongmin reached for the side dishes. And then... the kiss. What exactly were you trying to prove?"

Jaehyun felt a defensive heat rise in his neck. He leaned against the back of the sofa, trying to project a casual confidence he did not feel. "I was maintaining the narrative. We agreed to be consistent. Donghyun is your best friend. If he thought we were faking it, the rumor could spread. I was just selling the act."

Sanghyeok let out a harsh disbelieving laugh. He ran a hand through his bleached blond hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. "Selling the act? To Donghyun? He lives halfway across the city, not the leasing manager. He doesn't care about our lease! And even if he did, normal couples don’t act like they are guarding a territorial claim over a bowl of kimchi."

"I was just being thorough," Jaehyun countered, his voice rising a fraction.

"You were being ridiculous!" Sanghyeok stepped closer, closing the distance Jaehyun had tried to create. The dancer’s chest heaved with agitated breaths. "You made Dongmin uncomfortable. You made me uncomfortable. We have rules, Jaehyun. We established physical boundaries for a reason, and you completely bulldozed over them tonight for absolutely zero logical reason."

"Dongmin used to date you!"

The words ripped out of Jaehyun’s throat before his brain could build a dam to stop them. The soundless void in the room immediately returned, thicker and more oppressive than before. Sanghyeok froze mid-step. His eyes widened, staring at Jaehyun as if he had just spoken in a foreign language. Jaehyun’s heart hammered a bruising beats against his ribs. He gripped the edge of the sofa behind him to keep his hands from shaking. There it was. The unpolished truth laid bare on the living room rug.

"He went on one date with me over a year ago," Sanghyeok said slowly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "He is deeply in love with Donghyun. I told you that."

"I know what you told me," Jaehyun argued, his throat tight. He pushed off the sofa, unable to stand still under the weight of Sanghyeok’s gaze. "But he was right there. He was standing in our kitchen, reaching for things next to you, and he already has a history with you. A history I cannot fake."

"Why does that matter?" Sanghyeok demanded, genuine confusion masking his anger. "Why do you care about my history? This is a fake arrangement. We are splitting rent."

Jaehyun opened his mouth to deliver another excuse, to construct another flimsy barrier of logic and risk management. But the words died on his lips, devoid of meaning. He looked at Sanghyeok—the messy hair, the flushed cheeks, the slight tremble in his hands—and the last remaining pieces of his denial crumbled.

He did not care about the lease. He had not cared about the leasing manager's rules for weeks. He cared about the way Sanghyeok remembered how he took his coffee. He cared about the shared rhythm they had carved out in this apartment. And tonight, watching a man who’s almost become Sanghyeok’s lover, move freely in their space, Jaehyun had acted purely out of a desperate terror of losing that rhythm.

The jealousy was not a performance. It was an unfiltered byproduct of his own buried feelings.

Jaehyun looked away, his jaw clenching. "It matters," he finally muttered, his voice barely audible over the hum of the refrigerator. "It matters to me."

Sanghyeok stared at him, the silence stretching out between them, long and unresolved. The argument had died, leaving behind a vulnerability that neither of them knew how to navigate. Jaehyun remained rooted to the spot, trapped in a corner constructed by his own heart.

The days following the disastrous dinner party bled into one another heavy stillness. The previously vibrant south-facing apartment suddenly felt incredibly vast and empty.

Jaehyun retreated into a self-imposed isolation. He needed the physical space to untangle the knot of his own impulsive actions. He started leaving for the stationery office thirty minutes earlier than usual, avoiding the morning kitchen routine. When he returned in the evenings, he no longer sprawled comfortably on the living room rug. Instead, he carried his work directly into his bedroom, shutting the door until the ambient sounds of Sanghyeok cooking or watching television ceased completely.

The boundary lines they had organically dismantled weeks ago were suddenly resurrected, built higher and thicker than before.

The loss of their shared rhythm was a physical ache. Jaehyun noticed the small, painful absences everywhere. There was no extra mug of dark roast coffee waiting for him on the counter. The throw blankets on the sofa remained perfectly folded. The familiar friction of their cohabitation had vanished, replaced by a hollow avoidance.

Their only remaining bridge was a tiny oblivious Chihuahua. On a dreary evening, the tension in the living room was thick enough to choke on. Jaehyun was sitting rigid in the single armchair, reviewing a stack of inventory files. Sanghyeok was seated on the far opposite end of the long sofa, his knees pulled up to his chest as he stared blankly at a muted television screen.

Neither of them had spoken a direct word to each other for almost a week.

Fish, blind to the agonizing atmosphere, trotted out from the hallway. She stopped in the exact center of the rug, her oversized ears swiveling between the two men. After a moment of canine deliberation, she padded over to Jaehyun, dropping a drool-covered squeaky toy directly onto his slipper.

Jaehyun paused his reading. He leaned down, picking up the damp toy and gently scratching the space between Fish’s ears.

"Are you hungry, Fish-ah?" Jaehyun asked aloud, his voice raspy from disuse. He kept his eyes focused on the dog. "It is getting late. Did you have your dinner yet?"

Across the room, the fabric of the sofa rustled slightly.

"Tell him you already ate your salmon blend at six o'clock," Sanghyeok's voice floated through the space, flat and devoid of its usual warmth. He did not look away from the muted television.

Jaehyun swallowed hard, tossing the squeaky toy a few feet away for Fish to chase. "Make sure you drink enough water, then. The heating is turned up high today."

"Tell him I refilled your bowl an hour ago," Sanghyeok replied, his tone tight, practically brittle.

Fish retrieved the toy, satisfied with her mediation, and curled up happily at Jaehyun’s feet.

The brief exchange faded, plunging the room back into a soundless void. Jaehyun stared blankly at the text on his inventory sheet, the letters swimming uselessly before his eyes. The indirect conversation felt entirely pathetic, yet it was the most interaction they had shared all week.

The digital clock on Jaehyun’s nightstand glowed 11:47 PM. He was staring blindly at the dark ceiling, trapped in the same stifling avoidance that had governed the apartment for days, when a heavy clatter echoed from the kitchen.

Jaehyun bolted upright, tossing the duvet aside. He navigated the dim hallway in hurried strides, his heart hammering against his ribs. He found Sanghyeok standing near the island counter, illuminated only by the faint yellow glow of the range hood. The dancer was a frantic bundle of nerves, aggressively swiping at his phone screen with a trembling thumb. Beside him on the counter, Fish lay uncharacteristically still on a folded towel, her tiny chest rising and falling in shallow, labored breaths.

"What happened?" Jaehyun asked, stepping fully into the kitchen.

"She is not moving," Sanghyeok choked out, his voice hitching in panic. He dropped his phone onto the granite top, running both hands through his messy bed hair. "She threw up her dinner, and now she is just laying there. My mom usually knows exactly what to do with sick dogs, but I think she is completely asleep right now and not picking up. Donghyun is not answering his phone either. I don’t know what to do."

Jaehyun closed the distance between them. The invisible boundaries they had resurrected over the past week vanished instantly in the face of genuine distress. He reached out, gripping Sanghyeok’s shoulders firmly. The muscles beneath the dancer's t-shirt were rigid, strung tight with fear.

"Look at me," Jaehyun instructed, his tone steady and commanding.

Sanghyeok tore his frantic gaze away from the puppy, looking up. His eyes were wide and glossy.

"Take a deep breath," Jaehyun said, holding eye contact until he felt Sanghyeok’s chest expand in a shaky inhale. "Go get her travel bag and put a warm blanket inside. I will look up a twenty-four-hour animal clinic and call a taxi right now. We are going together."

The instruction worked. Having a direct task broke through the fog of panic. Sanghyeok nodded rapidly, rushing toward the living room to retrieve the canvas bag.

Ten minutes later, they were sitting in the back of a speeding taxi. The city outside blurred past the windows in streaks of amber streetlights and dark shadows. Sanghyeok sat rigidly clutching the canvas bag to his chest, his knee bouncing anxiously against the door panel. He was gnawing mercilessly on his bottom lip, trapped in his own head.

Jaehyun watched him for a second. Without overthinking it, he slid his hand across the leather seat and wrapped his fingers around Sanghyeok’s free hand. He gave a grounding squeeze, offering a silent physical tether in the dark vehicle. Sanghyeok gasped softly, his bouncing knee instantly halting. He did not pull away. Instead, he uncurled his tense fingers, gripping Jaehyun’s hand back with desperate and crushing strength. Jaehyun kept their hands locked together for the entire ride.

The emergency clinic was a sterile void of glaring overhead tubes and cold tile flooring. They sat side-by-side in plastic chairs until the veterinarian emerged, carrying an alert and slightly annoyed-looking Fish.

"She just ate something she shouldn't have," the vet smiled gently, handing the dog back to Sanghyeok. "A mild stomach bug. She just needs rest and a bland diet for a day."

As they walked out to the reception desk, Sanghyeok’s phone vibrated. It was Donghyun, finally returning the missed calls, sleepily confirming exactly what the clinic doctor had just prescribed.

-

The taxi ride back to the apartment was entirely silent, but the tight tension from the previous days was gone. The adrenaline crash left them both exhausted, their shoulders slumping heavily against the back seat.

When Jaehyun unlocked the door to unit 402, the familiar warmth of the space rushed over them. Neither of them made a move toward their respective bedrooms. It was an unspoken mutual decision. They migrated directly to the living room sofa, sinking into the plush cushions in an unison. Sanghyeok carefully set Fish down on a thick fleece throw rug near their feet. The puppy circled twice and immediately fell into a deep peaceful sleep.

Jaehyun leaned his head back against the sofa, closing his eyes. Only then did he realize how close they were sitting. Their thighs were pressed flush together, and Sanghyeok’s shoulder rested against Jaehyun’s side, a comfortable shared weight that felt really right.

"Thank you," Sanghyeok murmured, his voice soft in the dim lighting.

Jaehyun opened his eyes, turning his head to look at the man beside him. Sanghyeok looked drained, but the rigid walls he had built were demolished.

"I’m sorry," Jaehyun suddenly blurted out, the apology burning a hole in his chest. "About the dinner. For being over the top and making you uncomfortable—"

"Stop," Sanghyeok cut him off, shaking his head. He shifted his posture, turning his body fully toward Jaehyun. He reached out, his fingers finding Jaehyun’s hand resting on his thigh, deliberately lacing their fingers together. "I am the one who needs to apologize. I was being insensitive."

Jaehyun frowned, his heart giving a distinct flutter at the firm grip on his hand. "Insensitive?"

"I was so confused," Sanghyeok confessed, his thumb tracing a slow circle line across Jaehyun’s knuckles. He kept his gaze lowered, staring at their joined hands. "When you broke the physical boundaries at dinner, it made me panic. I was angry because we had rules, and suddenly you were tearing them up for no reason. But then, standing in the hallway, you told me my past date was mattered to you."

Sanghyeok finally looked up, his eyes meeting Jaehyun’s with a raw vulnerability. "I realized right then that I really like you, Jaehyun-ah. And maybe I was panic because I wasn’t prepared for it. But the very next morning, you started avoiding me. You disappeared into your room. I thought... I thought you had realized if you start having feeling for me was a terrible idea, and you were trying to fix your mistake."

Jaehyun felt the air leave his lungs. The confession hung in the space between them, obliterating the indirect void they had suffered through all week.

Jaehyun leaned in, his free hand reaching up to gently cup the side of Sanghyeok’s face, his thumb resting just beneath his jawline. "It was never a mistake. I did not step back because I thought it was a bad idea. I stepped back because I needed to sort my thoughts. I was terrified I had ruined the only real home I have had in years."

Sanghyeok let out a breathless exhale, leaning his cheek into Jaehyun’s palm. The corners of his mouth twitched upward. "So, what is the result? After sorting your thoughts?"

A slow easy smile spread across Jaehyun’s face. The heavy burden he had carried for days evaporated, leaving behind a buoyant warmth. "I figured at this point, even marrying you would not be a disastrous plan. Assuming you don’t mind, of course."

Sanghyeok let out an undignified snort of laughter, his shoulders shaking. "Marriage? You cannot even put your coffee mugs directly in the dishwasher."

"I can learn," Jaehyun shot back, his smile widening.

The remnants of the adrenaline faded, replaced by a magnetic pull. Sanghyeok’s laughter subsided into a deeply amused grin. He tilted his head slightly, a mischievous glint catching in his eyes.

"You know," Sanghyeok hummed, his voice dropping an octave, "I think I finally figured out why I was actually so upset about the dinner incident."

"Oh?" Jaehyun prompted, his thumb lightly stroking Sanghyeok’s cheek.

"Yes," Sanghyeok nodded solemnly, though his eyes danced with amusement. "Because our first kiss had to be in front of audiences, and you barely managed to catch the corner of my lips. It was unacceptable."

Jaehyun felt an intense surge of heat pool low in his stomach. He moved closer, erasing the remaining inches between them until their chests brushed. "That was not a kiss," Jaehyun murmured, his gaze dropping to Sanghyeok’s mouth. "Let me show you a real kiss."

He did not wait for an answer. Jaehyun slid his hand from Sanghyeok’s face to the back of his head, tangling his fingers deep into the soft blond strands, and pulled him in. Sanghyeok’s lips parted instantly under the pressure, a muffled sigh escaping into Jaehyun’s mouth. It was nothing like the rigid, performative touches they had staged for the leasing manager. This was greedy, desperate, and entirely unscripted.

Jaehyun angled his head, deepening the kiss, completely mapping the taste of Sanghyeok’s tongue. The dancer shifted his weight, straddling Jaehyun’s thigh to get closer. Sanghyeok’s hands grasped the fabric of Jaehyun’s shirt, pulling him flush against his chest. The friction of their bodies moving against the sofa cushions felt electric. Every small muffled gasp, every shift of weight, sent a fresh wave of heat directly through Jaehyun’s veins.

Jaehyun trailed his lips away from Sanghyeok’s mouth, pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses directly down the strong line of his jaw. He lingered at the sensitive hollow beneath Sanghyeok’s ear, inhaling the lingering scent of his jasmine fabric softener.

"Should we move to one of the bedrooms?" Jaehyun murmured against the heated skin, teeth grazing across the pulse.

Sanghyeok moans softly, tilting his head back to grant Jaehyun better access, his fingers gripping Jaehyun’s shoulders tight. "It is a hassle to get up. The sofa is perfectly fine."

Jaehyun paused, pulling back just enough to look at Sanghyeok’s flushed face and swollen lips. A teasing smirk tugged at his mouth, his hand starts creeping toward Sanghyeok’s inside thigh. "How romantic. Our first time, and we are going to do it right here on the living room, mere feet away from our sleeping dog. We haven’t even been on a proper date yet."

Sanghyeok stared at him, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. He let his head fall forward against Jaehyun’s shoulder, letting out an exasperated groan.

"Oh my god," Sanghyeok muttered, his voice muffled against Jaehyun’s shirt. "Is sharing a lease together already not enough to have sex with? People nowadays are so demanding!"

Jaehyun burst into a bright cheerful fit of giggling, the joy of the moment overwhelming him. He wrapped both arms tightly around Sanghyeok’s waist, hauling the dancer fully onto his lap.

"Alright, alright. I am sold," Jaehyun laughed softly, mindful not to wake the tiny Chihuahua sleeping peacefully on the floor. He cupped Sanghyeok’s face again, his expression softening as he looked at the man he had built a real home with. He leaned in, capturing Sanghyeok’s lips in another deep, thoroughly consuming kiss, leaving the pretenses and the fake relationship permanently behind them.

Jaehyun leaned against the gray partition of Sungho’s cubicle, his fingers tracing the textured grain of a heavy cream-colored cardstock sample. The ambient hum of the stationery office droned around them, unchanged from a year ago.

"I am just saying, the apartment is too big for just me and the dog," Jaehyun muttered, his voice carrying a weary pitch. "He has only been in Osaka for three days for this recital, but Fish keeps waiting by the front door. She dragged one of his hoodies out of the laundry basket last night and just slept on it. It is pathetic. I am pathetic."

Sungho did not look up. He was tapping away on his phone screen, a rapid movement of thumbs against glass.

Jaehyun sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Are you even listening?"

Sungho paused his typing. An exhausted exhale escaped his lips. He placed his phone face-down on the desk with an echoing thud. He slowly turned in his swivel chair, his gaze devoid of sympathy.

"I am listening, Jaehyun-ah," Sungho stated evenly. "I am listening to you complain about missing your talented partner who is currently headlining a dance event in another country. I am listening to you whine about the spacious, beautifully lit, discounted city-center apartment that I helped you secure."

Jaehyun opened his mouth to defend himself, but Sungho raised a single finger, cutting him off instantly.

"I honestly don’t care anymore about your domestic bliss," Sungho continued, his tone rising slightly. "You used to stand at this exact spot and complain about a miserable train commute. Now, you stand here and sound ungrateful for having a perfect life. Do you know what I have, Jaehyun-ah? I have a landlord who refuses to fix my water heater. I have been taking cold showers for a week. The new logistics manager just ruined my spreadsheet formatting, and I went on a blind date yesterday with a guy who talked about his personal collection of porcelain dolls!"

Jaehyun blinked. The volume of Sungho’s grievances hit him like a physical wall. As Sungho took a deep breath to launch into a detailed breakdown of the porcelain doll conversation, Jaehyun made a tactical decision. He did not say a word. He shifted his weight and took one, microscopic step backward, hoping to seamlessly blend into the hallway traffic and escape back to his own desk.

Sungho stopped mid-sentence. His eyes narrowed, locking directly onto Jaehyun.

"Myung Jaehyun," Sungho warned, his voice dropping into a deadly register. "If you even dare to walk one step further away from me, just so you know, I know exactly where you live. I know your unit number. I will come over there and sit on your sofa until you listen to me."

Jaehyun froze. His right foot hovered uselessly in the air before he slowly placed it back down again in the same place as before.

"Look, I’m staying," Jaehyun surrendered, offering a tightly strained smile. "Now, tell me more about this guy’s dolls."

Sungho huffed, crossing his arms, slightly mollified. "There were thirty of them. All in Victorian dresses. He said that they like to stared at the duck in the garden pond where he used to live,”

Jaehyun leaned his shoulder back against the cubicle partition, settling in for what promised to be a very long, very exhausting story. He slipped his phone out of his pocket, his thumb gently waking the screen. The lock screen illuminated, displaying a photo taken on their living room rug. Sanghyeok was laughing, his face practically glowing, holding a tiny, blurry Chihuahua up toward the camera.

The familiar warmth bloomed instantly in his chest, overriding the drone of Sungho’s complaints. Listening to his coworker vent about cold showers and terrible dates was a miniscule price to pay. It was a worthwhile toll. Jaehyun let the monologue wash over him, silently counting it as eternal gratitude to the exhausted man sitting at the desk—the friend who, a year ago, had unknowingly handed him the exact blueprint to the rest of his life.