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Wooyoung had always been a terrible influence on San. It wasn't necessarily his fault. At least, that was what San told himself whenever he found himself agreeing to one of Wooyoung's increasingly questionable ideas.
This particular one had started over dinner three weeks ago. San had been enjoying a rare, peaceful meal when one of their friends decided to bring up the subject he'd been successfully avoiding.
“So,” they started, leaning across the table with the kind of smile that immediately put San on guard, “when are you finally going to get a boyfriend?”
San nearly choked on his drink. “A boyfriend?”
“Or girlfriend. I'm not picky.”
“I am.”
The table erupted into laughter.
San sighed and leaned back in his chair. He'd had this conversation more times than he could count. It wasn't that he had anything against dating, he simply didn't feel like explaining his personal life every time someone decided they knew what would make him happy.
“I don't need someone just because everyone thinks I should have someone.”
His friend opened their mouth again.
San already knew what was coming. “Don't.”
“I was just going to say—”
“No.”
“I know someone—”
“No.”
Wooyoung, who had been suspiciously quiet beside him, suddenly put his chopsticks down.
“I'll do it.”
Everyone turned toward him.
San slowly looked over. “Do what?”
Wooyoung pointed at himself. “Be your boyfriend.”
There was a beat of silence. Then everyone started laughing.
San stared at him. Wooyoung looked completely serious.
“I'll pretend,” he clarified. “You get everyone off your back. I get to annoy you. Everybody wins.”
It was ridiculous, impulsive. It was exactly the sort of thing Wooyoung would suggest without thinking through the consequences.
San should have said no. Instead, he laughed. And somehow, three weeks later, he was wearing a bracelet that matched Wooyoung's.
At first, the arrangement had been harmless.
They held hands when someone was watching. Wooyoung would occasionally sling an arm around San's shoulders or lean against him during group outings. Once, when a particularly persistent friend had been staring at them suspiciously, Wooyoung had pressed a quick kiss to San's cheek. San had laughed so hard he'd nearly fallen out of his chair.
“Was that necessary?” San managed out between breaths.
“Absolutely,” Wooyoung smiled brightly.
“You're enjoying this way too much.”
“Maybe.”
The problem was that Wooyoung had gotten very good at pretending. Almost too good.
He started texting San good morning. then goodnight. He sent pictures of random things during the day because they reminded him of San. A dog wearing a ridiculous sweater. A dessert from a café. A pair of sneakers in a shop window.
Sometimes there wasn't even a reason.
Look at this.
I'm hungry.
Did you eat?
And once:
I miss you.
San had stared at that particular message for longer than he cared to admit.
A second message arrived almost immediately.
For realism.
San had rolled his eyes.
You're an idiot.
Wooyoung had responded with three heart emojis.
San had saved the conversation. He didn't know why. He didn't want to know why. So he ignored it. That was becoming something of a habit.
Which was why, when Wooyoung appeared at San's apartment three weeks later holding a bouquet of flowers, San immediately suspected something was wrong.
He opened the door and looked at the flowers. Then at Wooyoung, back at the flowers.
“What's this?” he asked suspiciously.
Wooyoung glanced down as though he'd forgotten he was holding them.
“Flowers.”
“I know they're flowers.”
“Then why did you ask?”
San sighed. “Why do you have flowers?”
A grin spread across Wooyoung's face. “Happy anniversary.”
San stared at him. For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then San laughed.
“Our what?”
“Anniversary.”
“Wooyoung.”
“Yes?”
“We've been pretending to date for three weeks.”
“Exactly.”
“That isn't an anniversary.”
“Sure it is.”
“No, it isn't.”
Wooyoung pushed past him into the apartment, completely unbothered. “It is
if I say it is.”
San closed the door and followed him. “You're ridiculous.”
“I've been called worse.”
Wooyoung carefully placed the flowers in a vase, taking far more care with them than San expected. They weren't random flowers, either. They were San's favorite. He hadn't remembered telling Wooyoung that. Maybe he had. Maybe Wooyoung simply remembered everything. That thought made something warm settle in San's chest. He quickly pushed it away.
“You actually bought these for me?”
Wooyoung looked over his shoulder. “Of course.”
The answer was so simple that San didn't know what to do with it.
Before he could say anything, Wooyoung pulled a small envelope from his pocket. “I also made a reservation.”
San blinked. “A reservation?”
“Tonight.”
“For what?”
“Dinner.”
“Where?”
Wooyoung smiled. “That's the surprise.”
San shook his head. “You know this is getting a little elaborate for a fake relationship, right?”
Wooyoung shrugged. “Maybe I like doing things properly.”
There was something about the way he said it that made San pause.
Then Wooyoung clapped his hands. “Go get ready.”
“Yes, sir,” San laughed.
The restaurant was beautiful. That was the first thing San noticed.
The second was that Wooyoung had somehow managed to get a table tucked into a quiet corner, away from the busiest part of the room. There were candles flickering between them and a small vase of flowers that matched the bouquet Wooyoung had brought earlier. The lighting was warm, music soft, everything about the evening felt intentional.
San slowly looked around the table. “You did all this?”
Wooyoung suddenly seemed interested in the menu. “Maybe.”
“Why?”
“Because we're celebrating.”
“Three weeks.”
“Three important weeks.”
“You're unbelievable.” San laughed.
“You're here.”
That shut San up because he was. He had every opportunity to refuse. Instead, he'd spent twenty minutes deciding what to wear. He'd fixed his hair twice. He'd checked himself in the mirror before leaving. And now he was sitting across from Wooyoung, watching him smile like this was the most natural thing in the world.
Maybe that was the problem. It was starting to feel natural.
Dinner passed in a blur of familiar teasing and stolen bites. Wooyoung complained that San always took food from his plate despite insisting he wasn't hungry. San retaliated by stealing the best piece of meat from Wooyoung's plate and enjoying the resulting outrage.
For a while, it was easy. They were just San and Wooyoung. Best friends, roommates on tour, partners in crime, fake boyfriends. Whatever they were.
Then dessert arrived. The server placed two small plates on the table before quietly leaving. Wooyoung waited until San had taken a bite before reaching into his pocket.
“Wait.”
He pulled out two small boxes.
San stared at them. “No.”
Wooyoung laughed. “You don't even know what's inside.”
“I know you.”
“That doesn't answer the question.”
San picked up one of the boxes and opened it. Inside was a simple bracelet. Black cord, woven neatly, with a small silver charm in the center. It wasn't expensive or flashy. It was exactly the kind of
thing San would wear. He looked across the table.
“You got matching bracelets?”
Wooyoung held up his wrist. He was already wearing his.
“You're serious.” San couldn't help smiling.
“Of course.”
“You bought these for our fake anniversary?”
Wooyoung's expression softened. “I saw them a few weeks ago.”
“And?”
“And I thought you'd like it.”
San ran his thumb over the little silver charm. It was simple. But Wooyoung had remembered. He'd remembered what San liked: the flowers, the restaurant, everything.
“Here,” Wooyoung said.
He reached across the table. San hesitated before handing him the bracelet. Wooyoung carefully fastened it around his wrist. His fingers were warm against San's skin. Neither of them spoke. For a moment, the noise of the restaurant seemed to fade into the background.
San looked at their matching bracelets, the candles, the flowers, the dinner Wooyoung had planned. Then at the man sitting across from him, smiling with unmistakable affection. A strange thought slipped into his mind.
This doesn't feel fake.
The realization made his stomach flip.
“This is so romantic,” San smiled softly.
Wooyoung's face immediately brightened. “Thank you!”
San laughed despite himself. “You're so weird.”
Wooyoung's smile faltered. “Why?”
“Because this is supposed to be fake,” San replied, looking down at his wrist. The words came out softer than he'd intended.
The change in Wooyoung was immediate. His shoulders dropped slightly. His fingers curled around his own bracelet.
“Oh.”
San looked up.
Wooyoung forced a smile. “Right.”
Something cold settled in San's stomach. He hadn't meant—
“We should probably head home,” Wooyoung said.
And just like that, the evening changed.
The walk back was strangely quiet. San hated it. Wooyoung was never quiet. He filled silence without thinking, usually with terrible jokes or observations that made no sense. Normally San would complain about it. Now, he missed it.
He glanced over several times. Wooyoung's hands were shoved into his jacket pockets. His head was lowered. Every so often, the streetlights caught the silver charm on his bracelet.
San stopped walking. “Wooyoung.”
Wooyoung took another step before realizing San wasn't beside him. He turned.
“What?”
“Are you upset?”
“No.”
“You're lying.”
Wooyoung sighed. “I'm thinking.”
“About what?”
For a moment, Wooyoung simply looked at him. Then his eyes dropped to the bracelet. “I don't think I want this to be fake anymore.”
“What?” San's heart seemed to stop.
“I know. Probably the worst time to say it.” Wooyoung laughed softly, but there wasn't much humor behind it.
“Wooyoung…”
“I kept telling myself I was just playing along. That I was making everything dramatic because that's what I do.” He looked down at his wrist again. “But somewhere along the way, I stopped pretending.”
San couldn't speak.
“I like taking you places.” Wooyoung swallowed, his voice was quiet now. “I like remembering the little things you say. I like knowing what makes you happy. I like seeing you smile when I surprise you.”
San's chest tightened. “The flowers?”
“You said once that they were your favorite.”
“The restaurant?”
“I wanted tonight to be special.”
“The bracelet?”
Wooyoung looked at him. “I wanted you to have something that reminded you of me.”
San stared at him. All those little moments suddenly rearranged themselves in his mind: the good morning texts, the stupid pictures, the heart emojis. The way Wooyoung always seemed to find an excuse to sit beside him. The way he remembered things San didn't even remember telling him.
It hadn't been pretending, not for Wooyoung. Maybe not for San, either.
“You should've told me,” San whispered.
Wooyoung gave a small, nervous laugh. “I was scared.”
That surprised him. Wooyoung was rarely scared of anything.
“I didn't know if you felt the same.”
San looked down at their bracelets. Then he reached out. His fingers slipped between Wooyoung's. Wooyoung froze. San squeezed his hand.
“Then don't make it fake.”
Wooyoung stared at him. “What?”
“Don't make it fake.” San smiled.
For several seconds, Wooyoung simply looked at him. Then his expression broke into the brightest smile San had seen all night.
“So…”
“Yeah.”
“We're actually dating?”
“I think so.” San laughed.
Wooyoung's grin widened. “Does that mean I get to plan our real anniversary?”
“You already planned the fake one.” San groaned.
“Exactly. Now I know what to improve.”
“You're impossible.”
“You like me.”
San shook his head, but he couldn't stop smiling. “Unfortunately.”
Wooyoung squeezed his hand. “That's basically a love confession.”
“Don't push it.”
“Too late.”
They started walking again, their hands remained intertwined. And for the first time, neither of them had any reason to pretend otherwise.