#24 / Good Thing To Know That If I Ever Need Attention, All I Have to Do is Die

[room9093]

Prompt #: 24
Author: anonymous
Title: Good Thing To Know That If I Ever Need Attention, All I Have to Do is Die
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 17,965
Summary: Kyungsoo couldn’t show up to a friend’s remarriage alone. Especially if his ex was going to be there, and his ex was going to be there not-alone.
Warning(s): Language, some alcohol use, past Chansoo
A/N: I’m a sucker for clichés, so I hope this wasn’t too hackneyed for such a prompt!



Kyungsoo must’ve done something in a past life to be stuck in a situation like this. There’s a special kind of hell for people who, like, murdered children and ate their corpses or something (which would also explain why he’s so vertically challenged. Karma’s a bitch; sorry, dead kids). That hell’s called ‘Being Friends with Divorcées. Both of Them.’ It’s the only possible explanation for him being friends with both Wu Yifan and formerly-Wu-now-Kim-but-soon-to-be-back-to-Wu Joonmyun.

They’re partially to blame for this probably-avoidable debacle. If they hadn’t had that nasty separation that lead to a way-too-hasty divorce and then a long-winded re-courtship and re-engagement and, finally, re-marriage, there would be no reason for Kyungsoo’s current headache.

Sure, he could give himself the brunt of the blame and probably (read: definitely) should, but for the time being, it’s easier to shove that off to other people. Yifan and Joonmyun live such perfect, modelesque lives that it’s okay to rag on them for a little bit, even if they haven’t done anything wrong. Otherwise, Kyungsoo’s trapped himself on this couch, holding this poor cat captive all of his own volition. And he likes to think of himself as sensible enough not to do that.

The whole issue is complicated. There’s no two ways around it, no sort of mental olympics he can do that’ll make anything simpler or easier to understand. Which sucks. It really does suck.

Okay, so, there are two and a half parts to this story that whatever omniscient, nosy god is listening to this story (narrated by Kyungsoo in his own head, by the way. Nice invasion of privacy, prick) needs to know. Buckle up, fuckos. He’s gonna make you wanna tear your hair out.

Part A: The Wedding

“I’m fucked. I really am fucked. I’m so fucked,” Kyungsoo said. Because, really, he was fucked. By some stretch of his admittedly wild imagination, obviously, but it still wouldn’t be very fair to make fun of his very real consternation. At the moment, Lu Han wasn’t being very fair.

“You’re not fucked,” Han drawled, as if he fucking knew. “And, look, if it bothers you so much, just ask Shixun.” For whatever reason, that was always his default answer to all of Kyungsoo’s problems. ‘Just ask Shixun.’ Last time Kyungsoo checked, Lu Shixun was not fucking MacGyver. Sure, it was admirable that Han had such faith in his little brother, but his faith was not helping Kyungsoo at all. “I don’t even see the big deal, anyways. It’s just Chanyeol. What did you use to call him? ‘Big Ears, No Brain’ Chanyeol? ‘Big Dick, No Hea —’”

“‘It’s Not You, It’s Me’ Chanyeol, now. ‘I’m Not Looking For A Relationship, Unless It’s With Yifan’s Second Best Man’ Chanyeol.” Kyungsoo scowled. It wasn’t as if he still had feelings for Chanyeol, no matter what Han wanted to believe. They’d run their course; that much was clear following a bottle or two of ‘06 Merlot and much-needed hindsight. They didn’t exactly match well, anyways. Chanyeol was all too happy to make fun of the height difference, and Kyungsoo was all too happy to knock him down a peg. Their breakup was inevitable, however lackluster it ended up being. The real issue was the bullshit reasoning of why they broke up and Chanyeol’s audacity at finding happiness so soon after what Life & Style magazine would have referred to as ‘the split.’ With their disgustingly lovey-dovey SNS posts it was a wonder neither Chanyeol nor his beau had smothered each other with finger hearts yet. Kyungsoo wasn’t acquainted very well with Baekhyun, but the chatty man seemed nice enough. More sarcastic in the face of Chanyeol’s puppy love He could appreciate that. So it wasn’t beef with Chanyeol’s new, taller ess-oh.

It’s just…

Do Kyungsoo is twenty-three, going on twenty-four, and he’s painfully single. Hence why he was sitting at a tiny little corner café with his best friend and scarfing down beignets instead of being at home with his totally hot, totally better-than-Chanyeol beau and discussing how they would steal the show on Joonmyun’s second special day. No, he was stuck in the company of the one man who knew all of his secrets (even that one time in elementary where he’d accidentally killed the class’s pet hamster and switched it out with the one from the class next door) and who was more than willing to blackmail him with them. The infuriatingly pretty, successful, brag-worthy man who had known him since day one of freshman year and who knew him inside out —

Cue lightbulb and ding! noise.

“What are you doing,” Han said. He was not framing it as a question. “I don’t like it when you get that look on your face. That’s your ‘I traumatized an entire first grade class when I stole their pet hamster’ look. It’s not a good look.”

“You’re not a good look,” Kyungsoo retorted. “Anyways, why would I ask Shixun when you’re right here?”

“What.”

“It makes perfect sense. We’ve been attached at the hip for almost ten years. You cried when you thought I wasn’t gonna go to the same school as you for undergrad —”

“Did not.”

“— so, I mean, it makes sense that we would hook up. Best friends start dating all the time. Yifan and Joonmyun were best friends. Now they’re getting married all over again. Hey, do you think it’s fair if they have another bachelor party? ‘Cause isn’t it, like, you’re only supposed to have one night of fuckery before eternal commitment or whatever? But they already did that in their relationship like two years ago, so, like — where was I?”

“I don’t know, Soo. You stopped making sense after you took a college-level literature course.”

“Wait! I remember!” Kyungsoo said, because fuck you, Lu Han. “What I was saying was, how about we go together? Like, together, together.”

Han rolled his eyes. “You sound like a teenage girl.”

“And even teenage girls have good ideas, Han.” Kyungsoo pursed his lips. If all else failed, he could always have broken out the good ol’ Satan Stare (which, to be honest, only ever worked on Chanyeol and Joonmyun). Or reminded Han that he needed Kyungsoo to hold his hand every time they went on a ferris wheel. “You know I can’t go to that wedding alone. Not when Chanyeol’s got Groom Number One’s best man on his arm. I’m Groom Number Two’s best man. Imagine how embarrassing it would be if I showed up all by myself?”

“Just catch the bouquet.”

“What kind of hand-eye coordination do you think I have?”

Han had to laugh at that. “Good point. But I still don’t know why you want me to fake-date you. Just own the crazy cat lady shit, man.”

Of course. Typical obliviousness to the finer points of establishing one’s superiority. Enter stage left: Satansoo. “Lulu, you owe me.”

“Uh, since when? You would’ve failed high school biology if it weren’t for me, Rosalind Franklin.”

Kyungsoo groaned and took a sip of his latté. It was cold. His day got at least four times worse. “Lu Han, please. I promise I won’t ask anything else of you ever again if you do this for me. It’s just gonna be a one time thing! I just need to rub it in Chanyeol’s face that I’m not sad or lonely and then we can break up, and you can go about with your merry life while I wade back into the dating pool with floaties and some snorkeling gear.”

Han cracked a smile. His eyes were soft. “You’re really serious about this, huh? You’ve really got something to prove.”

Oh, now he gets it. Kyungsoo introduced the puppy eyes, just to kick things up a notch. “Yeah. Please. You’d be doing me a really huge favor, Han.”

After an obscenely protracted sigh, during which he lobbed four spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee, Han nodded. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll be your fake boyfriend, Do Kyungsoo.”

…

He already had a whole whiteboard and flowchart situation going on in his apartment by the time Lu Han got around to stopping by a week later. Kyungsoo really should’ve been more offended by the incredulous cackle that burst from Han’s mouth the moment he stepped through the door, but Han’s incessant mockery was on the backburner of his mind at the moment.

“I’ve never seen you plan a thing in your life, Soo. Holy shit.” He took a moment to look around, snickering at the dry-erase chicken scratch and the bulletin board filled with monochrome photos and red string. “You look like you’ve been investigating the Black Dahlia murders, Jesus Christ.” At the younger’s pointed glare, he shut up.

“This is serious business, Han,” Kyungsoo said sternly, his hands on his hips. It really was. He took public embarrassment more seriously than he did national security. And as a former political science major (now consultant for the local paper; thanks, Park Geun-hye, for just never being good at your job), national security was very important. “We’ve gotta get our story straight. Luckily for us, we’re already pretty close.”

“Gee, nice of you to say.”

“Shut up. Anyways, I think I’ve got an okay cover story. It’s nothing special, but it explains why we got together pretty easily. Naturally, it’d be preferable if nobody asked any questions and just accepted I nabbed someone like you — ‘cause you’re such a catch —”

Han fluttered his lashes. “Thanks.”

“— but out of everyone, Joonmyun will be the nosiest. And as his best man, I’m apparently obligated to tell him all about my personal life, so…” If it were any other situation, Kyungsoo would’ve laughed at Han’s flinch as he pulled out what was behind his back. “I’ve compiled a list of information we ought to memorize if we’re gonna make this thing legit.” He handed a very wide-eyed Han a large white binder stuffed with papers and post-its and crept back into the kitchen.

“Did you write a novel, Soo? Jesus fucking Christ. I really don’t think Joon would pry that much.” But that didn’t stop him from opening it up and fingering at the twenty multicolored tabs. “Soo, I know my own occupation and blood type.”

Kyungsoo hissed, “This is the only copy! Do you know how much ink costs?” Why couldn’t people just appreciate his genius?

“Well, you didn’t have to print out this much stuff. You could’ve, just, like, sent me a Google Doc or something.” Han flipped through the pages, pausing briefly to turn the binder and look at the pictures. “It’d probably be a lot easier for us to discuss things that way, too.”

Kyungsoo sat down beside him, shoving a cup of orange juice into his hands. “Yeah, but you’re a tactile memorizer, aren’t you? You gotta touch things to learn them. It’s why you spent so much goddamn money on textbooks in school instead of getting PDFs like the rest of technologically-advanced civilization. Also, that’s how you learned how to solve a Rubik’s cube in under a minute. So I figured it’d be better for you to, y’know. Touch.”

“Wow, very astute. I’m impressed,” Han said dryly. He tossed the binder away, ignoring Kyungsoo’s indignant squawk. He took a brief sip of the orange juice, face puckering at the sourness. “Soo — holy fuck, this tastes terrible — I’m also an auditory learner. I can listen. You could’ve just told me your plan instead of pulling together some Secret Service briefing and spending God knows how much on ink.”

Well, when he put it that way… Kyungsoo huffed. “I just want this to be perfect, Han. It’s for my pride — a man’s pride. You have to understand that.” For all Lu Han’s talk during graduate school, he’d better.

Han set his glass on the table right next to the binder and took Kyungsoo’s hands. It wasn’t weird for them to knit their fingers occasionally, and skinship wasn’t anything special for them. But the way Han fit his warm hands tightly around Kyungsoo’s, the younger couldn’t help the flush that rose to his cheeks. Han rubbed his thumbs lightly on the back of his hands. Kyungsoo flinched. “What are you — ”

“You can write down a detailed story all you want, Soo, but when it comes down to it, if we don’t look or act like a couple, people won’t think we’re a couple.” His smile wasn’t mocking or mean-spirited. Kyungsoo gulped. “If you can’t even hold my hand without blushing, how are people — Joonmyun, of all others — supposed to believe we’ve been together for six months?”

Kyungsoo cleared his throat. “I… I know that, I just thought we’d get to it later.” He refused to believe he was getting flustered.

Han laughed, a fully body movement that had him releasing Kyungsoo’s hands from his Venus flytrap grip. “Do Kyungsoo, the wedding is two weeks away and you thought we’d save the lovey-dovey, kissy-kissy stuff later?”

It wasn’t as if Kyungsoo was a prude or anything. He’d had relationships before: Chanyeol, obviously, and In Sung-hyung, the TA of his first acting class, from his freshman year of college, had taken his virginity (not to mention being his first love, but that was a story that would never see the light of day if he could help it). Obviously people seemed to take his tiny stature and large, innocent-looking eyes to mean he was just as naive as his facial features would imply. The same thing kind of applied to Han, but anyone who spent at least ten minutes around him knew Lu Han was probably the furthest from innocent. The title was better attributed to Shixun, whose permanent scowl chased away the notion. So he hadn’t quite figured out the logistics to the entirety of his plan yet. Big deal.

But Kyungsoo really had planned on memorizing the story first and getting to the couple things afterward. Fourteen days were (probably) enough to get used to handholding and back hugs. Han was just Han. It shouldn’t have been as weird as what just happened — which is why Kyungsoo wanted to save the skinship for last. Knowing the story inside out was the hard part.

(And who said anything about kissing?)

Han, noticing his silence, backed off. “Okay, sorry. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Soo.” He cleared his throat and picked up the binder, opening to a random page. “So, let me get this straight. We got together… two weeks after Chanyeol broke up with you?”

Kyungsoo nodded. “Should I have waited longer? I don’t want to make you look like a rebound. I thought two weeks was okay, but if you think we should change it, then I guess we could.”

“It’s a fake relationship, Kyungsoo. And aren’t I a rebound anyways? Since we’re breaking up after the wedding.”

“Yeah, but that would make me look like a dick. Oh, I almost forgot. I figured we’d… ‘stay together’ for a bit after the wedding so that it didn’t look too obvious that I was using you to look good. So that we’d… naturally drift apart, y’know. Go our separate ways — or decide we were better off as friends. That seems more realistic. You get the idea.”

Probably should’ve told him that first.

“You probably should’ve told me that first.”

Yep.

“This is a huge commitment you’re asking of me, Soo,” Han continued, wrinkling his nose. “God, what if I was still into Minseok? How long would I have had to wait before I could go after the guy I’m actually into? How long are you actually planning for us to stay together after the ceremony? A month? Two?”

Kyungsoo winced. “Maybe three…”

“Three?”

“Oh, please,” Kyungsoo said with a wave of his hand. “The last time you showed any interest in dating was Minseok, and that was four years ago. You even told me —” he changed his pitch to create a terrible impression of Han’s voice. “ — ‘I like being single.’”

Han sighed. Maybe that was the wrong thing to say. “You’re lucky that I like you. And that you’re my best friend. I don’t know anyone else that would help you do this. Except Shixun.” He continued combing through the binder. “But I guess without me, you’d be hopeless. So, you’re welcome. I hope you know generous I am for actually agreeing to this ridiculous and completely unnecessary plan of yours.”

Kyungsoo bowed. “All hail Lu Han, god of generosity.”

The corners of Han’s mouth pulled upward. “Now you’re just teasing me.”

…

“No,” Joonmyun said.

“Yes,” Kyungsoo replied.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“What he means,” Yifan interjected, “is that we’re happy for you. It’s about time you and Lu Han got together.” His hand was on the small of his fiancé’s back, but his eyes were surreptitiously darting towards the Iron Man cake decorations at the far end of the display case.

Joonmyun pursed his lips. “Yeah, he’s right, but now I have to cancel on Jongdae. He was really looking forward to meeting you. But since you have a new boyfriend…” His tone erred on the side of ‘guilt-trip.’

Here’s the thing about your first college roommate: they will never truly leave you alone. Kyungsoo’s move-in time was during the afternoon, and he was fortunate enough to have found Joonmyun there unpacking when he arrived. Already making a mess. Kyungsoo probably would’ve had an aneurysm if Joonmyun hadn’t peeked his head out from the pile of filth (which, too his credit, was kept to his side of the room, not that he could say the same about the rest of freshman year). He was the prettiest human being Kyungsoo had ever seen in his life, secondly only to Lu Han. He’d lunged forward and grasped Kyungsoo’s hand, shaking it furiously and introducing himself with a two-hundred watt smile. Anyone else would’ve been obnoxious. But not Joonmyun.

And, true to his role, Joonmyun never left him alone. When they didn’t have class, they were always eating together in the dining halls or studying together in the common room. They were essentially a singular unit. So much so that part of Kyungsoo thought Lu Han might’ve gotten a little jealous of Joonmyun and his occupation of Kyungsoo’s time, but they hit it off when he’d introduced them, and it turns out they had a mutual friend anyway — Wu Yifan, a Canadian international student who was infamous for his killer good looks and extraordinary height. Before long, they’d become a little quartet dwelling in the back corner of the campus Starbucks every Sunday, and that was that. Kyungsoo had stuck by Joonmyun through his first nuptials and the stress that had generated, and those nights where Joonmyun had decided to sleep over at Kyungsoo’s leading up to his divorce. Kyungsoo knew the cliché is that history repeats itself, but he didn’t think that it do so that soon.

Last time, was just as painfully single as he was now. But back then, he was looking for love, not vengeance. He was out to meet someone new. The previous breakup that left him heartbroken wasn’t even really a breakup, since there wasn’t actually a relationship to begin with. So he was basically a fresh baby. That’s when Yifan’s step-brother and previous best man Zitao stepped in and introduced Chanyeol to him. They hadn’t gotten together at the wedding, but seeds of interest had been planted and their relationship blossomed from there.

Zitao was currently busy taking care of his girlfriend and their newborn son, and couldn’t make it to round two. Hence, Baekhyun.

It seemed that Joonmyun decided to become the matchmaker himself this time. Unbeknownst to Kyungsoo, Joonmyun had been planning to set him up with his younger cousin Jongdae. There should be some offense taken, Kyungsoo thought, that Joonmyun knew him well enough to find a man for him to rub in Chanyeol’s face. Kyungsoo had never even heard of the guy, but he was apparently supposed to go to dinner with Jongdae on the Saturday before the wedding. Where they were evidently supposed to get along so swimmingly that they’d decide to have their second date at a wedding. Perhaps Joonmyun’s been with Yifan for so long that he’s forgotten how actual relationships are started.

However, Kyungsoo had Han. So there was no need for this mysterious Jongdae’s speed-relationship services.

“I do,” said Kyungsoo. “I do have a new boyfriend.” He took, like, three college courses in acting. He’s got this in the bag. There’s skepticism in Joonmyun’s gaze, piercing through Kyungsoo’s eyes and to the back of his skull, but no query to follow.

“Uh-huh,” Joonmyun said. Without looking, he used a single finger to steer Yifan’s head back towards the traditional wedding cakes. “Why the sudden change of heart? You guys have known each other for over ten years, haven’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” Kyungsoo began, channelling his inner In Sung-hyung (complete with elevated height), and fixing Joonmyun with a sheepish grin. What was it again? Every line in a script had a meaning, blah, blah, characters do things for a reason… A-ha. Action and objective. Action: rambling about Lu Han. Objective: to bullshit the fuck out of Joonmyun. Well. Here goes nothing. “I will admit that Han discovered his feelings first. He knew for a while that he… he loved me, and after Chanyeol left me, I guess he worked up the courage to ask me out.”

(Han had kicked up a fuss over being the so-called piner. “That’s what happens when I let frickin’ Kyungsoo write the damn backstory,” he’d grumbled.)

Yifan made a strange noise in the back of his throat, though Kyungsoo wasn’t sure if it was in reply or because Joonmyun was dragging him along by the ear. Kyungsoo ignored him.

“That’s sweet,” Joonmyun commented.

“I’m glad you think so too,” Kyungsoo continued, though the phrase sounded strange leaving his mouth. “Honestly, I was taken off guard. We’d been friends for so long, it was strange learning that he saw me in that way, and that it wasn’t a recent development either.” He paused to thumbs-up the cake Joonmyun gestured at. “It took a bit for me to warm up to the idea. It was only two weeks after Chanyeol left me, so I wasn’t quite sure if I wanted to move on so quickly.”

“Right.”

“But I gave it some thought, figured I was being close-minded, since we were already two peas in a pod, and now here I am. Happier than ever.” He winced internally at the cheese, and hoped it didn’t show too much on his face. Throwing a cautious glance at Joonmyun, though, he noted with surprise that the elder seemed genuinely pleased with his explanation.

“Yifan can be right sometimes, you know,” Joonmyun said. “I am happy for you. But you two are best friends. Sometimes taking things to the next level can bring out things you didn’t even know about each other. And, sometimes, these changes can be too big to overcome. You two were always so close; I don’t want to see either of you getting hurt.”

“Not everyone can be us,” Yifan added, pecking Joonmyun’s temple. Kyungsoo retched into his mental wastebin. “Reconciliation isn’t always in the cards for some people. I can only imagine how terrible it was being friends with us while we were divorced.” He chuckled at Joonmyun’s shiver.

“It was poopy ass-dicks,” Kyungsoo deadpanned. “But thanks. I mean it.” He decided he wouldn’t be eviscerating Yifan after the taller man reached down to ruffle his hair like a suburban white father who referred to his son as ‘squirt’ or ‘junior.’ The gesture meant they both bought his story. Kyungsoo never remembered Yifan being this gullible, but maybe that’s how he got suckered back into marrying Joonmyun in the first place. (That was harsh. He takes it back, sort of.)

After all, most divorced couples usually stay that — divorced. Not Kim Joonmyun and Wu Yifan, because they were so fucking special. The whole debacle took over the span of two years; the Wus had been married for one and divorced for another. It had probably not been the best idea to wed before their professional lives plateaued, especially if both worked in an industry as shady as film. Yifan was a casting agent getting fresh drama school graduates lining up at his agency’s door. Joonmyun was slowly but steadily becoming a direct-to-video heartthrob. It was easy to throw around accusations of perceived infidelity since both were working late nights and with pretty faces. Thus, the fighting, the bitterness, and the eventual separation. Yifan ranting at Han and Joonmyun taking up temporary residence on Kyungsoo’s couch before moving pitifully back into his parents’ place in Gangnam.

Eventually, the’d realized how dumb the fighting was and (the phrasing continuing to make Kyungsoo vomit a little into his mouth) that life together was far better than it was apart. Then, they decided to re-marry, and the headache took a slightly different, happier form.

(Why did they take so long to pick out a cake again? Tsk-tsk.)

So, in the end, everything worked out for Joonmyun. It was sort of his fate, though. Smart, classically handsome, friendly, overbearingly kind, with just the right amount of endearing dorkiness. He was so amazing that the universe would be doing itself a disservice to make his life anything but perfect.

Kyungsoo? Not so much. A slacker with few interests, more cute and plucky than handsome, reticent and otherwise scathingly sardonic, more inclined to offer emotional support only after distress occurred, with sizably (and sadly) better hindsight than foresight. Being opposites is probably why Joonmyun and Kyungsoo matched so well. So he has to settle for false happiness for now. And it’s less happiness, more security. Or just plain falsehood. Anything to seem as if he was just as or even more not-miserable than Chanyeol.

It just so happens that Joonmyun’s acceptance and belief are assets he has to gain to make his story more plausible. If Joonmyun confirmed it, it was as good as fact. He feels bad about lying to his second best friend, but there are some things that just need to be done.

(Looking back on this, he was being way too melodramatic, holy shit.)

By the end of the day, as far as he could tell, he’d earned Joonmyun’s trust. One less thing on his to-do list.

…

In actuality, his to-do list wasn’t very long. Lu Han was right about his lack of planning experience, and it showed. He was fatigued after one three-inch binder and two conversations. In theory, fake dating was something easy to manage, so long as both parties cooperated. He’d gotten that burst of inspiration and passion and rushed to do everything at once. No wonder he was tuckered out. Luckily for him, there was only one box left to tick.

Practice with Han.

That, in itself, is a mild way of putting it.

He had been putting off the thought for as long as he could.

(Because, really, who sits there and imagines making out with their best friend? Certainly not Do Kyungsoo. Not at all.)

He was thus understandably taken by surprise when Han showed up on his doorstep the next Saturday, just like they planned. Kyungsoo blinked, then tore the box of Krispy Kreme from the elder’s hands. “Get in. Quickly.”

The smile on the pretty boy’s face swiftly turned into a frown. “Well, hello to you too.”

Kyungsoo set the box down on his coffee table, brandishing the binder of information he’d all but etched into his skin. Han stepped backward but didn’t drop the white plastic as it was thrust into his hands. “I’ll put on some tea,” Kyungsoo said. “You — brush up.”

He vaguely heard Lu Han’s annoyed huff as he scuttled off into the safety of his garishly yellow kitchen tiles. There was comfort in his alphabetically organized spice rack. If anyone were to have asked him at that moment why he was hyperventilating, he would’ve yanked the kimchi out from his fridge and slapped them straight across the face with it, waste of food be damned.

No, at the moment, Do Kyungsoo was calm and collected and very much scared out of his wits. This was even scarier than that one time he had to give an oral presentation on this history of sex scandals in American politics, or that time In Sung-hyung decided it was a good idea to teach Kyungsoo how to pick locks and maybe get a little frisky in the professor’s office. Mostly because Kyungsoo didn’t care about anyone else’s opinion then, even if he felt like he did. After the quarter, everyone would’ve been so tired out from finals that they’d have forgotten him and his cringy topic, and In Sung-hyung had the uncanny ability to weasel his way out of anything. Kyungsoo had, at that point in time, reached the “Literally Fuckless, Just End Me” part of his college career.

This time, though, he cared.

(Yeah. He knows. Frightening concept.)

The opinion in question this time was Lu-freakin’-Han’s. His best friend. The Nicole to his Paris. The Matt to his Ben. The Tom to his Jerry. No matter how obnoxiously clingy Joonmyun was, he could never top the snarky security Lu Han provided. Even the time they’d spent apart while Kyungsoo was still in high school wasn’t enough to dampen their relationship. Han knew all his secrets and kept them safe for years. He was the one who’d talked Kyungsoo down from panic attacks and mental breakdowns and treated him to congratulatory barbeque after major exams. He couldn’t very well unimpress him with his lackluster romantic skills.

Gasp! Oh no, what if Lu Han, (likely) smoocher extraordinaire, thought he was a bad kisser? All of a sudden, Kyungsoo wished he’d asked a then-kinder Han for kissing practice as a dorky, puny freshman.

“Uh, you okay?”

Kyungsoo squeaked and jumped a good two feet in the air. He whirled around, glaring at Han. “Knock to announce your presence, please.”

Han lifted a hand and rapped quickly on the doorframe with two knuckles.

Kyungsoo huffed. “What do you want?”

“You were taking an awfully long time in here, just wanted to make sure you didn’t accidentally drown yourself in the sink.” He leaned against the creaky frame, arms crossed. “So… the itinerary for today? We’ve only got a week before game day.”

Kyungsoo cleared his throat. “Well, I don’t exactly have a set schedule, but I just thought we should… get a feel for each other?”

“The correct word is ‘cop,’ Kyungsoo.”

He wished he had a spatula in his hand so that he could threaten Han with it. “That’s not what I meant and you know it! I was talking about getting used to each other’s ideas of romantic affection.” Kyungsoo wrinkled his nose in distaste. “I, for example, like back hugs, but not when someone puts their chin on the top of my head. I don’t like people putting their arms around my waist. I prefer an arm around my shoulder or just simple hand-holding. That sort of thing.”

“I’m sure you enjoy watching sunsets and taking long walks on the beach, too,” Han snarked. His expression softened when he noted Kyungsoo’s furthering displeasure. “Kidding. I get what you’re saying.” He scuffs his heel, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. “So… is there… anywhere you’d like to start?”

The both remained silent, Kyungsoo trying to parse through the thousands of thoughts running through his head at once, until the high-pitched screaming of the kettle snapped out of their trance. Kyungsoo stood quickly to pour the tea while Han scrambled for some of the donuts left back in the other room. Once he returned, with one offered to Kyungsoo and the other trapped between his teeth, they sat down at the table.

“I guess we should start off with what we’re already comfortable with?” Kyungsoo suggested. He tore a sizable bite off of his donut. “I mean, we’re already pretty close for best friends. We feed each other and stuff, I’ve felt you touch my butt more than once — don’t look at me like that, sicko.”

“Sorry.” Han was not.

“So… Hand-holding, back hugs, feeding each other… I think that’s it. It covers most of the bases. Not including the, uh, kissing bases. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Han repeated. There was something different about his tone, almost… bashful. An emotion Kyungsoo hadn’t seen on Han in a long time. Neither of them commented on it.

The uncomfortable tension stretched too long. “Uh, I guess… we could start now.” Kyungsoo swallowed quickly, and then reached across the table to squeeze Han’s hand. It was warm and soft, and Kyungsoo ran a thumb over the flesh. His own, he could only assume, was disgustingly clammy. Because of the tea. That’s why. No jitters whatsoever. He made the mistake of looking back up at Han, who gazed at him gently and affectionately and — oh, God, all of Kyungsoo’s internal organs leapt up into his throat at once. There were all but literal hearts in Lu Han’s eyes. Kyungsoo gulped. No one in his entire life had ever looked at him that way. Who knew Han was so good at face acting?

“You okay?” the elder whispered.

“Yup. Never better,” Kyungsoo croaked.

Not long after he finished his prolonged nod did Kyungsoo find his head pressed into the crook of Han’s neck. The motion was almost a blur, and it was a miracle he didn’t get any whiplash from it. A little warning would’ve been nice. He bit back the reactionary splutter, instead moving quickly to swat Han’s hand off the top of his head.

Han’s jaw flexed as he muttered, “Crap, I forgot you didn’t like that.” Huh, so he was actually listening.

From his perch, ear pressed to the junction between his neck and shoulder, Kyungsoo could see every movement of Han’s throat as he swallowed. For anyone other than lovers, this was too close. So this was good. What they’d been going for. Sort of. Why did he feel so weird?

“Okay?” Han said again.

“Mm-hm.”

Kyungsoo stiffened as Han laid his head on his, a cheek pressed to the crown of his hair. The weight was intimate, warm. Perhaps his inexperience shows in his shiftiness, because Han shushes him quietly. Kyungsoo wasn’t sure of what to do. So he finished his donut.

A chuckle rumbled through Han, jostling him slightly. “This is weird,” Han said. “I don’t know what I’m doing, and judging by the way you’re absolutely devouring that pastry, neither do you.”

Kyungsoo scoffed and reached around to slap as much of Han’s buttocks as he could from their position. Though he felt his face getting hot, he acted as if he was perfectly fine. Acting. He was good at it. “We’re getting used to the skinship, genius. Let’s just stay like this for a bit before we move on.”

“So you can drop more crumbs onto my nice, clean shirt, you disgusting mongrel?”

A smile graced Kyungsoo’s lips. “You must be a mindreader, Han.”

“Oh, I am. I absolutely hate it — quite the mental burden. The things people want to do to me because I’m so handsome and masculine…” Han paused briefly. “What exactly did you mean by ‘move on?’ Out of curiosity. You said you didn’t have an itinerary.”

He still didn’t. Whatever convinced him to start nuzzling Han also thought it was a bright idea for Kyungsoo to blurt, “Kissing.” Even he was surprised by the words that left his own mouth. And he couldn’t even retract them without losing face.

“Oh. Um. Okay, then. If that’s what you think is best.” Han tried to move back into position, but it was wrong. It no longer felt right. He tried multiple times to get back to where he was, to no avail. The spell was broken. Now things were just awkward.

“For Chrissakes,” Kyungsoo muttered. He sat up, catching Han’s (wow, very smooth) face between his hands. “Why’d you have to go and make it weird?”

With just as little tact, Kyungsoo kissed him.

Lu Han’s lips were softer than he’d imagined, even after seeing him apply copious layers of balms and chapsticks. Han froze momentarily, but his shoulders slumped as he leaned into the kiss. Kyungsoo felt Han’s hands — burning — reach up to cup his cheeks before the contact was broken and their faces realigned to prevent their noses from being squished together. Before he could say anything, Han’s mouth was on his again. Kyungsoo let his hands slip from Han’s face down to his chest and leaned closer.

All it took was the swipe of a tongue across the seam of his lips and Kyungsoo was climbing out of his seat, wincing at the screech of wood on tile, and clambering into Han’s lap. Han groaned into his mouth and dropped his hands to circle Kyungsoo’s waist, thumbs digging into his sides.

Kyungsoo isn’t sure what demon just possessed him, but it compelled him to tug lightly at Han’s brown hair, yanking his head back. He was never like this before. The kitchen was usually hot in late June, but now even more so. They might’ve gone on forever if Kyungsoo’s weight didn’t start tipping the chair, causing Han to lunge forward and latch onto the table for support.

Just like that, a chill settles in the air. Kyungsoo’s chest was heaving and he was glad Han’s face ended up buried somewhere between his shoulder and his armpit in his mad dash for stability. Kyungsoo didn’t think he could’ve looked him in the eye after that.

Kyungsoo cleared his throat. “Well. Good practice, I guess.”

He felt the roll of Lu Han’s Adam’s apple against his shoulder and a tightness in his own chest. “Right.”

…

Having a July wedding means that the dress could would be inevitably lax. Which was why Kyungsoo allowed Han to hastily slap on a spare pastel blue short-sleeved button up on him before they made their way to the venue. He thought the matching khakis was a nice touch.

The second wedding was quite a bit smaller than the first and a far more informal affair. Even second and third cousins had been invited last time, but the guest list for round two never strayed towards the triple digits. Kyungsoo figured it was a sign of maturity. Before, Joonmyun was so excited to be getting married that he’d wanted everyone he (even barely) knew to be there. The only people present for the second ceremony were people who mattered.

On one hand, he couldn’t show off his new relationship and get as much praise or adulation for moving on and upgrading. On the other hand, the small radius of impact meant the split could be clean and discreet.

“You can stop thinking for, like, three minutes,” Han whispered in his ear, fingers drawing circles on his shoulder as they sat in their designated plastic chairs.

Practice ended soon after the kiss, but it didn’t seem like there was much need for it anyway. They never talked about it afterwards, agreeing that no matter what kind of couple they were, both of them valued privacy enough to not exhibit that sort of behavior in public. Still, there was a part of Kyungsoo that didn’t think it was a waste of his time at all.

Joonmyun had given them the shining smile of approval when he’d caught them arriving, and Yifan had thrown an awkward thumbs up that made Han blush and duck. Acknowledgment number one fulfilled.

Then, they’d made their way over to their row. Joonmyun had given them aisle seats behind his parents, right across from Yifan’s best man. Lu Han, thankfully, had the social grace to offer a greeting to Chanyeol and Baekhyun, the former of whom had a not-so-hidden look of surprise. Kyungsoo would’ve figured that Yifan would blab that he and Han were going together, but that didn’t appear to be the case.

“You,” Chanyeol blurted, and stopped there.

“Me,” Kyungsoo said in return, earning a chuckle and a slap on the arm from Lu Han.

“I think what Chanyeol meant to say is, ‘Hi, Kyungsoo. Long time no see,’” an unfamiliar voice interjected. For the first time since they sat down next to each other, Kyungsoo looked at his fellow best man. He looked prettier in person than he did in pictures. “And what I’m gonna say next is, “Hi, Kyungsoo. It’s nice to finally meet you.’”

Kyungsoo just sat there, stiff as a board as the personification of ‘light bulb’ extended his hand toward him. Evidently, his inaction didn’t deter Byun Baekhyun at all, because he reached over and shook his hand anyway. All he could do is blink, surprised, as what was supposed to be a normal handshake turned into a hug so awkwardly-angled that Han had to limbo his way out of elbw rage. That certainly was not how Kyungsoo intended to engage Private Enemy #2. He’d pictured a lot more catty comments and mental hair-pulling.

Instead, what he’d gotten was a bright (bright!) young man who smelled strongly of cinnamon, with an eager, if a tad mischievous, rectangular smile. He wasn’t sure what his face did in response, but it was probably something close to a friendly grin, because Baekhyun ghosted right over him.

He and Lu Han interacted a lot more, mostly because Han has the social skills of a functioning human being in his late twenties, rather than those of a sad hermit. Their talkativeness matched well — although Baekhyun seemed to be a bit more loquacious.

“So this is the infamous Han Solo,” Baekhyun joked. “Oh, but I guess Yifan can’t call you that behind your back anymore.”

Han groaned, head falling onto Kyungsoo’s shoulder. Casual. Just like they’d practiced. “He still calls me that? One would think it’d get old after college.”

“Lucky you, Kyungsoo Organa here’s just saved you from being the butt of a lifetime of lovable space rogue jokes, the other snorted. His hand had been resting on Chanyeol’s knee the whole time, and as he spoke, he tickled it with little scratches.

“Thanks, babe.” Kyungsoo felt proud of the fact that he didn’t flinch when a wet kiss landed on his cheek. He leaned back into Han, pressing the elder’s forehead further against his neck. The posture wasn’t ideal, his head more than likely an unwelcome heaviness on Han’s skull, but Baekhyun seemed to find it endearing. Chanyeol’s face still bore the deer in the headlights look he’d been sporting since the moment he saw them.

Baekhyun, seemingly unaware of his boyfriend’s abject shock, cooed, “You two are the cutest! Yifan told me guys were, like, the best of friends before. But now you’re like this. What made you want to take the leap?” He dug his fingers into Chanyeol’s knee when the latter made a strange, strangled noise in the back of his throat.

“Mm,” Han began, “I guess it was more of his decision than mine. We both knew each other since high school, so we’ve basically got over ten years of constant companionship. Could you blame me for falling for him?

“Sure, he’s not exactly book smart, and his idea of funny is abandoning me in hedge mazes whilst cackling like a madman, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Kyungsoo felt his cheeks warm. Little puffs of air warmed his throat as Lu Han chuckled at his embarrassment, fingers teasing his hair. “Soo’s really sweet, when he wants to be. He cares a lot about people. I wish he’d show it more — he’s really a tiny, squishy sweetheart.”

Kyungsoo swatted Han’s hand away. “You’re ruining my reputation, Han. How else am I supposed to extract five minute coffee runs from the interns now?”

Baekhyun snickered and put a finger to his lips. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Han laughed. “Yeah. Well, in any case, I guess I got a… a wake up call in light of recent events. Just got up one day and realized I needed to tell him how I felt.” His warm lips twitch against the side of Kyungsoo’ sneck. “I was extremely lucky that he… accepted me, I guess? It’s embarrassing now that I put it to words.”

“Says the self-proclaimed catch of Beijing,” Kyungsoo mumbled. He chortled as Han’s face colored.

Baekhyun chuckled, seemingly satisfied with the anecdote. “You two look good together,” he commented. Kyungsoo couldn’t detect a hint of irony. “I think it’s nice to know that some clichés actually exist in the world. Means romance isn’t really dead.”

Han sat up and gave an exaggerated bow. Kyungsoo almost missed the press of his body. “You’re quite welcome.”

They all shared a laugh — probably more forced on Kyungsoo and Chanyeol’s end — and that seemed to be the end of that. Chanyeol looked like he wanted to say something, but the ceremony started and he lost his opportunity.

There was a sense of relief that washed over him for the next two hours, but it was mixed with something else that he couldn’t really place. It felt nice that he managed to trick Baekhyun — and evidently Chanyeol — yet it didn’t quite sit right with him. Guilt? He didn’t think so; Chanyeol wasn’t devastated like he’d fantasized, so maybe it was disappointment that his big plan hadn’t worked out like he’d hoped. Here he was, ready for some big confrontation from every romcom ever made. All he got was silence as they sat through the hilariously embarrassing vows that were clearly not written by the couple.

(“Do you take this man, the physical embodiment of the Alolan Exeggutor, who feels the need to stick his finger into your food as he’s asking to try some, who insists that something isn’t his style but you’ll catch him five minutes later trying it out, and he’ll reluctantly agree it’s ‘not bad,’ who, on your first date, ordered take out and pretended he cooked it — do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

A pronounced pause. Kevin swung his head around to look at Yifan, and Joonmyun let out a horrified “Oh no.”)

The best man speeches are marginally better, Kyungsoo evoking a few laughs with some college stories that had Joonmyun burying his red face in his hands, and Baekhyun bringing on the waterworks with Yifan’s life story — how miserable was he before he met Joonmyun? Jesus — and elicited a response that would have Zitao raving jealously for the next few months.

No one else bothered to comment on Han and Kyungsoo’s new relationship beyond a few “Oh, how nice”s and “Such a handsome couple”s. Which was fine; he wasn’t here to steal Joonmyun’s second special day from him. The most that had resulted from the ruse was Chanyeol pulling Han aside when Joonmyun was tossing his boutonnière, Baekhyun having dragged Kyungsoo out to catch. He didn’t end up getting it, too distracted by the conspicuous whispers shared between his ex and his fake boyfriend.

There was something about Chanyeol’s expression that made it look less-than-friendly. His brows were furrowed, lips pulled downward but not quite scowling. Clearly, something was amiss, but when Kyungsoo and Baekhyun, the latter with his prize, returned, the two acted as if nothing had transpired. Kyungsoo was definitely suspicious — what if Han had given up the hoax? It didn’t seem likely, but one could never worry too much.

“It was nothing,” Lu Han shrugged when pressed about it. “Just had some questions about my ‘intentions.’ Kind of like an overprotective dad. It was funny.”

From what Kyungsoo saw, it didn’t look like Han found whatever accusations that had been laid against him funny. Still, he let it go.

He got his turn after the whole event was over, when Han had gone to bring the car around. It was almost comical, how Chanyeol had very noticeably sidled up to him with long sideways steps. He had the longest legs of any crab Kyungsoo had ever seen. Baekhyun was busy laughing at Joonmyun and Yifan over the multitude of blenders they’d received. It was the first opportunity Chanyeol had to get him alone. Kyungsoo didn’t know what else they would have to talk about. Presumably, Chanyeol would try to interrogate him like he had Lu Han. Very well. He was ready for it.

“You look happy-ish,” Chanyeol observed.

Kyungsoo blinked. “Well thanks-ish.”

Chanyeol exhaled loudly through his nose as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, scuffing his nice shoes on the floor of the ballroom. “I mean. You and Han, you look happy together. But when you’re by yourself, or when he isn’t looking at you, you don’t look too happy anymore. It’s a bit different from what I expected.”

“What, you didn’t think I’d move on?”

“Huh? No, that’s not what I meant at all. I just… you’re a lot clingier with him than you were with mean. I mean, I guess people can change — I just didn’t expect you to, and that much either.” A tiny snort made its way past Chanyeol’s lips. “Y’know, it’s funny. When we were together, I thought there was something going on between you two. Why wouldn’t two on-their-way-to-being-successful young men who knew each other better than themselves be together? Han used to look at you like you were everything. It’s kinda sweet now that he doesn’t have to do it when you’re not looking.”

Unsure of how to respond, Kyungsoo made a face. Humor was the best deflector. “When did you get so gross? Jeez.”

Chanyeol laughed. “Oh, shut up. I just… wanted to look out for you. I know we don’t really talk anymore, but I like to think we’re still friends. It was probably conceited of me to think I hurt you that badly, now that I think about it, but I still care. I was your friend before I was Han’s, so I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t, I don’t know, taking advantage of you or something.”

“That was conceited of you,” Kyungsoo agreed. He shifted uncomfortably. “But thank you, Chanyeol. I like Han a lot, so there’s nothing to worry about. I appreciate you having my best interests at heart.” He couldn’t say the same otherwise, and there was a lump in his throat. Maybe he should’ve rethought this whole thing. Here Park Chanyeol was, object of his revenge, screening his new boyfriend for him. Not once did it ever cross Kyungsoo’s mind to pry at Baekhyun, see if he was with Chanyeol for the right reasons. Having to thank Chanyeol, on top of it? Complete opposite of what he wanted to happen that night.

He was so caught up in that ball of spite that he’d forgotten what his actual priorities were. Jesus, what happened?

Evidently ignorant to his crisis of conscience, Chanyeol slapped a hand on his shoulder. “No problem, Soo. I’m happy for the two of you. Han loves you a lot, you know. I mean, he probably told you as much, so. Uh, congrats.”

As if on cue, Baekhyun hooked his arm through Chanyeol’s, boutonnière in hand, and bade a very cheerful, possibly tipsy goodbye. Kyungsoo watched them leave, Baekhyun stumbling against Chanyeol’s larger frame and muttering “Hey at least no one got punched in the face this time…,” with a small wave. Han’s hand brushing the small of his back made him jump, and he turned with furrowed brows.

“My bad,” Han apologized. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo answered.

Neither of them spoke on the drive home. There wasn’t much to talk about it. They were both tired, and the job was done. As Kyungsoo entered his dark, empty apartment, he felt his heart sinking in his chest. He still didn’t figure out why.

…

INTERLUDE: THE IN-BETWEEN

Most of Kyungsoo’s friends will agree that his ability of foresight is… severely lacking. Many people appreciate a ‘fly by the seat of his pants’ kind of guy, think it’s refreshing, and it’s never really bitten him in the ass until now.

With the wedding over and Chanyeol appeased, if not jealous, it should be it. Two weeks of preparation and the occasional sleepless night was for a singular event. Whatever that weird emptiness he felt when he got home was, it was gone by morning, and he congratulated himself on a job well done.

The thing about jobs well done, however, is that they’re finished. Kaput. Over with. Completed. Et cetera.

It’s that categorization that has Kyungsoo suitably alarmed one night when Lu Han texts him frantically almost three months after the wedding, begging him to be on free on Friday for his company costume party.

Kyungsoo wasn’t sure what kind of social life Han thought he had, but Kyungsoo would keep his pleas in mind.

Naturally, Kyungsoo was free on Friday night.

(The excuse he gave Han was that he didn’t want to finish writing an article on foreign plenipotentiaries and their abuse of diplomatic immunity.)

It wasn’t until he meets one of Han’s coworkers, half-receptionist, half-aerobics instructor for senior citizens, that Kyungsoo realized why Lu Han wanted him there so desperately. It felt a little off when Mummy Lu Han stuck his hand into Dracula Kyungsoo’s back pocket, but the pieces all fell into place once a scantily-clad lady pirate made eye contact with them. Wasn’t this a work party?

“Han, ohmigod!” she squealed at a frequency Kyungsoo was sure even dogs in California could here, and clip-clopped herself over to them on ridiculous platform boots. “You made it!”

“Sure did,” Han chirped, sweating bullets under his layers of toilet paper.

Her gaze travelled downward, condescendingly tilting her head lower to look at Kyungsoo. Part of him wanted to rip out his fake fangs so he could curse her out without a lips. However, he only ended up doing it in his mind. “Oh,” was all she said, “I thought you said you weren’t bringing a plus one.”

Han shrugged. His hand drifted from Kyungsoo’s back pocket to his waist, tugging him closer sharply. Kyungsoo tried not to snarl in displeasure at the movement. After the wedding, practice just flew straight of Han’s head, didn’t it? “Well, I wasn’t. But my boyfriend’s schedule cleared up at the last minute, so we thought, why the hell not?”

“Boyfriend?” she echoed.

Kyungsoo grinned toothily at her.


“Mm-hm,” said Han, playing the part of oblivious hunk so well. Kyungsoo was proud — really, he was. “We’ve been together for almost a year. Hard to believe, isn’t it?”

“Like a dream,” Kyungsoo replied. “Dirty socks all over my apartment and all.” He batted his lashes and they burst into a fit of laughter.

The pirate lady’s smile faltered, but she slapped the proverbial tape to her cheeks (kind of like the tape giving her double-eyelids) and wished them a good time. The only other thing Kyungsoo has seen that was as funny as her hasty retreat was when Yifan tried to prank his mother by pretending he broke his back — ah, a story for another day. Otherwise, mission completed.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Han cackled into his shoulder, reduced to wiping his eyes in a matter of minutes. Kyungsoo thought it was an okay level of funny, but it was nice to see that cute little chin-disappearing thing Lu Han did when he laughed.

(Um. What?)

“Jesus,” Han mumbled. “Did you see the look on her face?” Another attempt at subduing his hysteria. “Hey, thanks, man. I really appreciate you coming; she’s been on my case ever since I walked in the door.”

Kyungsoo waved off his thanks. “It’s no problem. I’m not gonna turn down free food.”

…

He probably really did eat babies in a past life.

The wedding was supposed to be the last Kyungsoo heard of “hashtag Baekyeol,” but someone (probably Satan; or, as he’s better known, Wu Yifan) gave Byun Baekhyun his phone number and his stupid little pea brain was too nice to say no.

So he and Han were supposed to have dinner with Chanyeol and Baekhyun on Saturday.

Kyungsoo begged and prayed to every deity he knew that Han would be busy — flying home to Beijing to spend the holidays with his family, or fanatically camping out with Satan’s husband to watch an advance screening of the next Star Wars film — and was promptly reminded why he was nonreligious.

They showed up ten minutes late, Han’s Sure. Should I dress up all fancy? ;D burned into Kyungsoo’s skull. He should’ve throttled him, but then there would be no one else to force into haunted houses. Zitao probably wouldn’t be flying back until his kid was beyond ‘screaming toddler on a thirteen and a half hour flight’ age, and Joonmyun was a cloud of dust in the distance when the thought was so much as mentioned. Kyungsoo still couldn’t believe Yifan married a Looney Tunes character. Point being, though, Lu Han still has his uses, so he wasn’t dead yet.

Kyungsoo hadn’t stepped foot in Chanyeol’s flat since before they broke up, so he was naturally taken aback at how Baekhyun-ified his home was. Kyungsoo’s standards of cleanliness were generally stratospheric, and nobody could live in a slag heap like Wu Joonmyun could, but the apartment had become… stylish. Almost like a catalogue spread. Some of Chanyeol’s little doohickies still lined the shelves, but it was clear someone else’s presence was imprinted on the place.

“Hey!” Chanyeol greeted, being the one to get the door. He took the bottle of wine from Kyungsoo’s hands with a broad grin. “Thanks. You were just on time — the food’ll be done in a bit. You still like your steak medium well, right?” The most he offered to Han was a nod and a quirk of his lips.

“Mm,” Kyungsoo confirmed. There was something making Han bristle (probably the lackluster welcome) behind him; he wasn’t about to ask. The night hadn’t even begun yet, and he was acting oddly. He jabbed his big toe into the middle of Han’s foot as he shucked his shoes off in lieu of a verbal warning.

Han hissed in pain, but he behaved.

Dinner was, as expected, plenty awkward. Only Chanyeol and Kyungsoo were familiar enough with each other to converse, and it was up to the former to carry the majority of the conversation. Baekhyun did his fair share of speaking, though he talked more of personal stories than actually contributing. Han maintained polite pleasantness. He was too busy stuffing his face to say anything. And Kyungsoo? Well, he just wanted to go home.

When adults invite people over for dinner, Kyungsoo learned when he was seven, it wasn’t only to share food. They also liked to talk. A lot. Usually over alcohol. Which made him very concerned, because Lu Han’s had a very loose tongue when he was drunk. It was a miracle they didn’t decide to pair the steaks with red wine.

Still, he sucked it up as Chanyeol cleared their plates and Baekhyun invited them to move to the living room. Who would Do Kyungsoo be if he didn’t see bad ideas to the very end? The other brought with him the expensive-looking cheap wine Kyungsoo purchased two hours before hey came and poured each of them a glass. Baekhyun offered (more like gently corralled) Han and Kyungsoo onto the pearl-colored loveseat, while he sat on the couch and Chanyeol took the recliner across from the loveseat.

Kyungsoo felt like Chanyeol should’ve been wearing Robert de Niro’s face and he Reese Witherspoon’s. Han would’ve been anyone from Ryan Gosling to James Franco and Baekhyun Melissa McBride or something. Whatever the fictional casting, the setup looked a lot like parents about to grill their capable, fully grown daughter’s new boyfriend. It was strange. He didn’t even know Baekhyun, and Chanyeol already implied that he’d given Han his seal of approval. Like they needed it.

Lu Han looked as uncomfortable as Kyungsoo felt, and took a large sip from his glass. His cheeks were already turning pink. Sisyphus’s boulder was almost at the top of the slope.

“Thanks for the meal,” Kyungsoo said finally. “I didn’t know you could cook.” God, the tension was stifling. Why did they invite them over if it was going to be weird? Then it hits him — what if it’s a test? Chanyeol didn’t buy it at the wedding; this was just a pop quiz to see if they really were gonna last. Or something.

(But Kyungsoo, a rational part of his brain supplied. Maybe they’re just nice people who bought too many steaks.)

As if sensing his sudden jump in panic, Han put a hand on his upper thigh and squeezed. His thumb rubbed soothing circles, and Kyungsoo could just feel Chanyeol’s eyes zoom in on the movement.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Baekhyun said, nearly sloshing his wine out of his glass as he swung an arm out. “Nothing Pinterest or Facebook couldn’t teach me. Chanyeol told me you’re the real chef, anyways. So I’m glad I surprised you.”

“It’s a wonderful break from having to cook by himself, I’m sure,” Han added, “considering I’ve been banned from every kitchen since 2009.”

Kyungsoo shuddered as he remembered the infamous incident. “You almost set your hair on fire and I still don’t know how.”

“How was I supposed to know wine did that?”

“I thought you binge-watched Hell’s Kitchen as your finals destresser after your shitty ochem class!”

“Did you think I also knew what was going on?”

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes. “Typical.” He blinked, then realized that Baekhyun and Chanyeol were looking at each other, and then at them both with a weird smile. He tried not to blush under their scrutiny. He wasn’t sure what just happened, but thirty seconds of bickering apparently removed whatever conversational block existed between the four of them. Maybe it was a test after all.

Lu Han’s hand didn’t move from its spot the whole rest of the evening until they got up to leave. He didn’t put it back once they were in the car, but Kyungsoo kind of wanted him to.

Then again, that was probably buzzed Kyungsoo talking.

…

Neither Kyungsoo nor Lu Han played baseball, which is probably why three strikes isn’t where their totally fake, not real, completely fabricated relationship stops.

Strike three is when Kyungsoo’s mother abruptly and without warning invited herself to Kyungsoo’s place for his birthday, apparently spurred by Joonmyun’s revelation that her beloved progeny was no longer single. (Correction: Yifan was the one who was married to Satan.)

After what Kyungsoo could only imagine was a two hour long victory cheer, she raced to her unsuspecting son’s place to quote, unquote celebrate his birthday. He was absolutely sure that this was an excuse, because she had forgotten his twenty-first birthday (“Hey, son… I’m not sure if it’s your birthday, but if it is, happy birthday!”), and then promptly forgot that she had forgotten about it. Meaning she not only forgot, she forgot that she had to feel bad about it.

(Still, he loved her. Beyond the memory issues, she was a great mom.)

His suspicions are further confirmed when she peered around his apartment soon after arriving, seemingly looking for something — or someone. She hummed when it seemed Kyungsoo was alone, and then muttered, hand pressed to her forehead, “A little bird told me that there might’ve been a special someone to spend today with you… One would think at this point in life, people your age wouldn’t be all alone… That’s all I ever wanted for my son, Kyungsoo-yah.”

It was clear manipulation, but for some reason, he still found himself locked in his bedroom, hissing frantically into his phone, “Get the fuck over here!” His mother was occupied drinking tea and watching some sort of daytime talk show, so he was relatively confident she wouldn’t catch him mid-act. Probably self-satisfied with the fact that she managed to finagle him into robbing his fake-boyfriend of his free time.

Two hours later, Lu Han stopped by with a jingling of keys, pretending as if he had a spare to the apartment. Kyungsoo all but sprinted over to the door to open it for him. It was a nice touch of domesticity, he was kind of impressed.

Evidently, so was Kyungsoo’s mother, because a strange and somewhat worrying grin stretched across her face. With a bucket of fried chicken under his arm, Han offered up a good natured excuse about being held up at work, which Kyungsoo knew was false since Han had already told him he took the day off to take Shixun to the airport. The claim, however, sparked a conversation between Han and his mother about his career. Her reaction, impressed and more-than-pleased, seemed to be a forecast for the rest of the night. They were already acquainted with each other, since Han often dropped Kyungsoo off when they were in high school. It was a tertiary acquaintance at best, and she had never invited him over. Oh, but Kyungsoo bets she wished she did now.

She adored Lu Han. Probably more than she adored her actual son.

“Finally,” Kyungsoo’s mother told him before she turned in for the night, long after Han had left, “you both got your heads out of your asses.”

…

He was confused by her words, but not nearly as confused as he was by strike four: moving in together.

Despite their steady and lengthy friendship, neither of them particularly felt the need to cohabitate with one another. They already say each other almost every day; there was no reason to cram themselves into a single space. Especially since Kyungsoo was sure at some point that someone was going to snap and strangle the other in their sleep.

“The need” came in the form of divine intervention, apparently, because there is no other reason for Lu Han’s neighbor to set the entire floor of his apartment building on fire. “Romantic candlelight dinner gone wrong” was not a suitable excuse.

But because Kyungsoo’s such a great friend and an amazing human being, in addition to having a spare bedroom, he offered to let Han stay at his place. It was the natural response, of course, to help a friend in need, so he wasn’t sure why Yifan was giving him that awfully creepy look as he and Chanyeol helped Han move whatever remained of his belongings remained into Kyungsoo’s apartment. When Kyungsoo questioned him about it, all he did was raise his thick eyebrows and smirk, nearly knocking a box he was leaning against over as he simply said, “Nothing.”

“Weirdo,” Kyungsoo had grumbled.

Technically, it wasn’t a strike; it was a gesture of kindness between friends. It just so happened that others witnessed it and got the wrong idea, which, in turn, implied it was a strike.

The action was, after all, the reasonable progression for a relationship. After being together for a while, cohabitation was just another step forward for a pair of people in love. Which Han and Kyungsoo were not, although Yifan and especially Chanyeol did not need to know that.

Though the original plan was to break up a little bit after the wedding, circumstances didn’t exactly permit that plan of action. From the number of work parties Han was too kind to deny invitations to, to the many surprise Kyungsoo’s mother made them both, there was no opportunity to announce an amicable split without it being suspiciously abrupt. So they just stuck with it, when the need arose. Kyungsoo wasn’t particularly interested in anyone else at the moment, and apparently neither was Han. With all the little happenings (three actual strikes and counting) that required each other’s services, it was just easier that way. Besides, it wasn’t like they acted like a couple in the privacy of their own homes. It was a match of convenience. Kyungsoo felt like he was in a period drama.

Before long, two years had passed.

Han hadn’t moved out, finding that the rent was agreeable and that living together wasn’t as terrible as they both had thought. As for Kyungsoo, he could appreciate the apartment was no longer empty when he was gone. His flatmate watered the plants in his absence and took care of his cat on his own. What more could Kyungsoo have asked for?

What he didn’t ask for, however, was the surge of emotion he felt whenever Han was around. His heart always did a little kickflip whenever the other was nearby, and he had taken to noticing little details about him — like the way he always giggled when his cat pressed its paws into his back like it was kneading bread, or the way he jumped when oil splashed on his arm while he watched Kyungsoo cook. He vaguely recalled feeling that way before (college; it was college) but he can’t put a name to it.

Well, he put a name to it eventually.

And that shit was frightening.

…

PART B: THE EPIPHANY

So, here is how part 2 of the need to know starts:

Joonmyun never liked doing things by himself, so the only other person he drags out besides his husband was his former roommate. Lucky him, YIfan was called away on set in Prague — so eh could help find some extras or something; Kyungsoo wasn’t too sure on the details. That was how he found himself sitting awkwardly in the back of a room full of toys as Joonmyun interacted with a little boy who refused to meet his eyes.

He had attempted to get Kyungsoo to come over and talk to the kid too, but if there’s one life rule Kyungsoo follows the most, it’s ‘Stay the fuck away from children.’ They were there for a good hour or two, with Joonmyun helping the boy, whom Kyungsoo learned was named Jisung, build a lego castle. Spending half the day at an orphanage was not the first thing he would’ve thought of doing, but neither was spending the other half of the day (right now, if you must know, eavesdropper) having some sort of crisis.

Said crisis was started some time after they left, when Joonmyun treated him to coffee and a tiny, overpriced sandwich, and decided to bring up the scariest thing of all in casual conversation: the future.

“Jisung is usually more responsive than that,” Joonmyun said, wincing as he apparently burned his tongue on his drink. “But I guess having a stranger there probably freaked him out more than me being there by myself would have. He usually gravitated more towards Yifan, anyways. Sorry, if it was a waste of your time.”

Kyungsoo shrugged, brushing crumbs from his mouth. “S’okay. I wasn’t planning on doing anything today, anyway. Since I already finished my OP/ED piece.”

“It’s just…” Joonmyun sighed wistfully, a sound that made Kyungsoo kind of want to hurl. “I’m super excited to be starting a family with Yifan. Obviously, we’ve had our ups and downs, and the paperwork is kind of a huge pain in the ass — we love this kid! Just let us take him — but it’s just… something so important.”

“Okay, Angelina Jolie,” Kyungsoo mumbled.

Joonmyun continues as if he hadn’t spoken. “Yifan came from a broken home, so I know he’s all sorts of scared of letting this kid down. I just know, though, that we’ll do all right by him. I was kind of worried, too, that it would be too difficult to connect with any of the kids. For whatever reason, Jisung stood out. And it looks like he likes us too, so. I don’t know. I’m just excited.” He paused, then cocked his head. “Have you and Han given any thought to this kind of stuff? Not kids, obviously. Jesus. But, like, long-term commitment. You’ve been together for a few years, already, right? Hear any wedding bells?”

He was ready to avert any snort-induced choking in response, but the thought and realization hit him like lightning — holy fuck. He does. Not that it’s actually happening; of course they haven’t talked about furthering their fake relationship at all. But the thought of hearing wedding bells with Han at his side… was incredibly tempting. He actually wanted to get married to Lu Han. Or, at the very least, thought it was a nice idea.

Kyungsoo was so goddamn oblivious he didn’t even know when it started. In hindsight, it was all too easy to realize that he began feeling that way forever ago.

It probably should’ve made itself known somewhere between holding hands in public so Han wouldn’t wander off in the grocery store and sleeping in the same bed because their workspaces were in the same room. Somewhere between baking cakes for each other’s birthdays (well, baking for Kyungsoo, burning and eventually buying for Han) and treating each other to dinner after a promotion or some other positive workplace happening. Or maybe it was after they started faking proposals to get free meals when one of them was feeling down about something. Probably somewhere around there.

Regardless, the recognition of such a feeling and the awareness of its name — love! — was discombobulating, and, quite frankly, terrifying. He didn’t like it, knowing that the smile that worked its way onto his face in Lu Han’s presence was born out of more than just friendly affection. Even worse, that feeling had been lurking in the back of his mind long before getting married to Yifan was a thought in Kim Joonmyun’s pretty little brain.

Fuck. If he thought about it, it’s been there since his second year of high school. That one time when Han reached on his tiptoes to get a book that was placed on the top of a shelf and when his fingers brushed Kyungsoo’s there was this weird electric shock that passed through the him was an example. At the time, he’d just passed it off as static.

How blind has he been?

Joonmyun took his prolonged silence in the opposite direction of the way his thoughts were actually traveling. “Is that a yes?” he teased. There was a glint in his eye that Kyungsoo did not like at all. “Oh, I feel like you’re growing up so fast!” That same little amusement followed him for the rest of the hour they spent together.

The rest of lunch as well as it possibly could have, with Kyungsoo managing to divert the conversation from his relationship and back to the child Joonmyun and Yifan were going to adopt — the first out of a theoretical three.

(“Can you believe Yifan wanted ten? Christ.”)

He was grateful for the distraction as long as it lasted, but it ended after they finished their drinks and they parted ways.

That’s why he’s sitting now, in the dark of his apartment, blinds drawn closed. He has Lu Han’s cat trapped in his lap as he rakes his fingers through the fur, rendering its attempts to claw itself free futile.

He isn’t catatonic. But he certainly feels a lot like a stopped watch, locked in a permanent stillness and unable to move forward.

So he loves Lu Han.

He has no idea what to do with that information except overthink it.

At the very least, Kyungsoo’s got that self-awareness part down. He knows that he’s — gulp — in love with Han. The logical next step, of course, would be to tell Han that he’s in love with him. Doing that, however, is also probably the worst thing he could do.

What if Han doesn’t love him back?

It is also a logical conclusion that Han does not reciprocate his feelings, because they’ve been friends for that long and he hasn’t brought up the idea once. Never considered it, apparently, until Kyungsoo pretty much manhandled him into a fake relationship. Han was more conscious and cognizant of his own feelings and emotions by light years. If he had discovered he ever had even just slightly romantic feelings towards Kyungsoo, he definitely would’ve brought it up. Except he didn’t. So, clearly, Han did not feel the same way.

Okay, so he’s lived through that before. He would have appreciated a heads-up from In Sung-hyung, that there was absolutely no romance there, but you can’t always have what you want. Hence why they’re no longer speaking.

(Also why you’re so paranoid, says a remarkably mindful voice that sounded just like In Sung.)

Unrequited love is not a problem. Kyungsoo knows how to roll with the punches. What he probably couldn’t roll past, though, was if Han suddenly realized he was in love with someone else. Hence the real, real reason why Kyungsoo and In Sung are no longer speaking. Hyo-jin-noona is really nice. They look good together. But Kyungsoo can’t bear to look at them for very long — or at all, for that matter.

Han has expressed interest in other individual before, but has never lasted very long in a relationship. His hectic schedule during college wasn’t exactly conducive to a romantic relationship. Except now, he is career is stable and he has more free time.

The last object of Han’s affection was Minseok, the surgeon on hand at his clinic. The crush was short-lived, with Han deciding he’d rather not ruin a perfectly fine professional friendship. But what if it came back? Like an intimate rash. Han had even suggested that he might still have lingering feelings for Minseok, back when Kyungsoo first proposed the scheme. “How long would I have had to wait before I could go after the guy I’m actually into?” What if he decided now he could go after him? Then where would Kyungsoo be? Left in the dust, that’s where.

So the logical thing to do would be to drop Han while he can, before he has time to drop Kyungsoo first. It’ll hurt, it’ll be painful, but it’s also doable.

He’s done it before, after all.

…

It starts off small, his distancing himself from Lu Han.

The handholding is the first to go, because it’s the easiest. It never really occurred to Kyungsoo how often their hands automatically gravitated towards each other until he pretended his neck was itchy once Han’s fingers brushed his. Or cracked his knuckles. Or crossed his arms. Each action felt like a stinging rejection even on his part, and he almost wanted to take it back. It felt mean to just matrix his way out of such a simple gesture. Eventually, Han must’ve gotten the hint, because his hands drifted into his pockets more often than not.

Next comes Han’s stuff. Back when Kyungsoo was living with Joonmyun, they had a clear “replace whatever you take” rule. Well. Kyungsoo had one. Joonmyun was so rich he could dawdle around, major-less, for two whole quarters, so his rule was more along the lines of “Just go for it.” Regardless of what Kyungsoo’s rule was, no such thing existed between himself and Han. He learns very quickly that he grabs a lot of things from Han’s side of the room, and that this habit probably needs to stop if he’s going to be successful in his venture. So now he buys everything in bulk. From printer paper to scissors to post-its to pencil lead. It’s a lot costlier — his wallet definitely feels the impact — but, still, he doesn’t wander over to Lu Han’s desk anymore. And he’s sure that Lu Han’s finances must be relieved that he’s finally getting rid of that stationary parasite known as Do Kyungsoo.

(Just like Lu Han himself might possibly be relieved that he’s being rid of that actual parasite Do Kyungsoo.)

Then comes a pretty obvious sign that something’s wrong: he stops sleeping in the master bedroom. Originally, it was a space Kyungsoo commandeered solely for himself, and left Han the guest bedroom. Over time (and a multitude of visits from Kyungsoo’s mother), though, it just became easier to share the master bedroom. It was large enough to share, and the both of them had their own sides to the space. After spending their nights on two separate, rickety, old mattresses, they decided to invest in a queen-sized bed. Han and Kyungsoo have shared a bed before; it was nothing new to them. It even came in handy in maintaining the couple disguise, as shown when Joonmyun gave him those really strange and kind of raised brows on the one day Kyungsoo had forgotten to make the bed.

But he doesn’t sleep there anymore. He takes his rest in the guest bedroom, their glorified walk-in closet that has the black blow-up mattress Han used to sleep on in one corner. It really isn’t that uncomfortable, and it also isn’t too difficult to bring his work and other belongings to the room. There were some things he left behind, just because they’d slipped his mind, yet otherwise, he’d pretty much evicted himself from the master bedroom.

He takes things one step further when they don’t take their meals together anymore. Again, Kyungsoo’s wallet takes one for the team. He starts going to the office earlier (and at all, at that) just to avoid seeing Han at the breakfast table. He usually bullies one of the interns into buying him lunch, and treats two others — Jongin and Shixun, no less — to dinner when he can. It feels a little strange to be avoiding Han but being in the company of his younger brother, but Jongin alone is enough to mitigate whatever awkwardness might exist between the two. Kyungsoo never really noticed what a sweet boy Shixun was until they started talking over French cuisine.

However heavy handed, his avoidance does work. Kyungsoo even goes to buy groceries without Han, preparing whatever his heart desires instead of whatever Han’s stomach wants. He still comes home to an empty plate and no complaints, but that’s probably because he isn’t around enough for Lu Han to complain about the food in the first place.

There have been a multitude of ways he’s started to distance himself from Lu Han, and they seem to be working, he realizes with both satisfaction and dismay. What doesn’t occur to him, however, is the possibility that Han might call him out on it.

…

Kyungsoo probably should’ve seen it coming. Lu Han is not passive by any means; in fact, he’s pretty aggressive. He’s got a competitive streak a mile wide, and it doesn’t take him very long to get used to strangers — to say nothing of how talkative he can be with people he doesn’t know so long as someone he does is next to him. Thus, Kyungsoo should’ve foreseen the inevitable confrontation between the two of them.

But it’s already been pretty well-established that Do Kyungsoo’s foresight is basically the unhappy result of three pounds of Thai food — a hot mess.

So Han nearly gives him a heart attack after he comes home from Italian with Jongin.

“Holy crap!” he yelps as Han turns the lights on in the living room before he even gets to turn around. Kyungsoo’s left hand flies to his heaving chest as the other reflexively drops his keys in the bowl by the door. It’s almost comical, the way Han is sunken into the couch with his legs spread wide and a dark scowl on his face. But the matter is all but laughing. Kyungsoo wants to drop everything and run, but he’s frozen by the coldness of Han’s stare. “You scared me.”

“You scared me,” Han hisses, and the sense of pain in his tone is so visceral that Kyungsoo’s heart plummets. “Did you think I wouldn’t fucking notice you just… scurrying off every single day? I don’t know why you’ve been avoiding me, but I’m fucking sick of it. We’re gonna talk. You and me.”

“That would be great, Lulu, but I have an article to write —”

“My brother told me you have nothing to work on right now. Nice try.” He stands up, making use of the mere inches of height he has on Kyungsoo. He crosses his arms, looking every bit like the disappointed father. The image is only enhanced when his shoulders sag. He looks defeated before he’s even said anything. “I just… I don’t understand, Soo. Did I do something wrong? Did I make you uncomfortable in any way? Help me understand instead of running away.”

He could run. He wouldn’t get very far, but he could do it. And then what? Just keep running until he wakes up one day, strapped down to his mattress with Han hovering over him with torture devices to pry answers out of him? Might as well just tear off the bandaid now.

Kyungsoo swallows, palms clammy. He curls his fingers inward, nails digging crescents into the flesh. “I… You didn’t… do anything wrong, it’s just that I feel kind of weird… being around you now. It’s not your fault; I just… can’t be near you? It just feels weird. I don’t know how else to explain it.” He does: I’m in love with you and I can’t be around you because of it. But he ought to have a bit more tact. Because he has plenty of that.

“What are you talking about? You couldn’t talk about this with me? I think I deserved a little heads-up before you straight up vanished on me. We’re friends, Kyungsoo, we don’t block each other out. You know Joonmyun and Baekhyun started asking questions. They wanted to have lunch with the both of us, but you started avoiding me before I could even ask. I didn’t know what to say. Are we… supposed to have some cover story for this, or…? I didn’t know if I was supposed to be honest or if I was supposed to throw them off our trail.”

“Does it really matter what you’d have said?” Kyungsoo scratches the back of his head. His nervous habit. “I mean, you could say anything and I don’t think they’d care. They probably think you’re the more responsible of us two here, anyway.”

Han furrows his brows. “But our stories are supposed to match up. We’re still dating, remember? I’m not supposed to be the roommate you flounce out on, completely oblivious and unconcerned. This was your whole idea in the first place, and you just wanna give up after this long? It’s been years, Soo. The least you could do is tell me so I could prepare.”

The younger shrugs. “I mean, it should’ve been way over by now. It just so happened that a bunch of coincidences prevented us from ‘breaking up.’” He punctuates the two-word phrase with air quotes. “This whole thing really shouldn’t have lasted very long.”

A small lightbulb dings above his head; there might be an opportunity to weasel his way out of this without hurting anyone too badly. He’ll eventually squirm out of Han’s inner circle out of necessity, but he can cut the tie nicely and remain on the fringes of companionship. They could probably stay friends. Just not as close as they used to be; he couldn’t take it if Han started blabbing to him about Minseok or whatever new boyfriend he’d acquired. Really. Kyungsoo tried imagining it. Didn’t end well.

“We could… use this opportunity to break up, I think. I mean, the original plan was for us to ‘drift apart.’ That’s what we’re doing right now.”

“Wait, what? You wanted to play the long game and now you want to break up all of a sudden?” The other purses his lips, looking further perplexed. “So you’re admitting that you’re trying to… what, drift away from me? You’re not helping me understand, Kyungsoo. I’m getting even more confused, if that’s even possible.”

Kyungsoo exhales. He has no idea how he should phrase this, if he should even be saying it at all. “It’s getting too dangerous,” he says. His palms get even sweatier with the admission, but he powers through. “I never thought about the possibility of one of us… catching feelings, or whatever the term is. It never crossed my mind that one of us might become… someone who wants something more. Especially when it’s highly likely that the other wouldn’t feel the same way, what with other people and all. Someone was going to wind up hurt in the end, and it wasn’t going to be pretty. I like you too much to let things fall apart like that, Han.”

The way Han’s face began to pale as he talked was worrying, and Kyungsoo almost lost his nerve halfway. At some point, the pretty boy’s face started morph from mortification to anger, cheeks suddenly flooded with color. “So…,” Han says after a very long, very nail-biting pause, “Yifan told you, then? Of course he did. He was so proud of me when I told him we were dating. One would think you’d have figured it out by yourself, but maybe you just needed someone to actually verbalize it before it got through your skull.

“Is it Shixun? I know you take him out for lunch and dinner.”

“What?”

“He tells me things. My brother and I don’t keep secrets, Kyungsoo.” Han grits his teeth, skin stretched taut over his jaw. “I guess I appreciate you looking out for me. But I’d honestly rather you tell me that you’re in love with my brother instead of excommunicating me from your life.”

Kyungsoo recoils, eyes widening. “What? I’m not in love with Shixun!”

“Oh — so it’s me, isn’t it? Then you could’ve told me as much from the beginning!” Han throws his arms up in frustration. “I’m not that much of an asshole that I wouldn’t fess up about it to stay closer to you. If I made you uncomfortable, you could’ve just told me and I’d try my hardest not to make it weird around you. You didn’t have to pretend like my feelings didn’t exist when we both know that they do.”

Kyungsoo’s brain was racing to keep up with Han’s words, but it was being greatly outpaced. “Wait, I don’t get —”

“And you don’t have any right to do that to Shixun,” Han continues. His chest is heaving from exertion. “My little brother’s been in love with you for years. He was ecstatic when he was chosen over four hundred applicants from his school to intern at the paper. You can’t even imagine how happy he was when you finally started paying attention to him beyond his being my little brother. Why did you think I was always trying to get you to hang out with him? You don’t get to toy with him and his feelings like that —”

“I really don’t know where you got the idea that I’m —”

“— and you especially don’t get to toy with a pair of brothers just because it’s fun to pretend you don’t know any better! I honestly thought you were better than this, Kyungsoo. What you’re doing is unfair to the both of us!”

Cue record scratch: “Brothers?” Kyungsoo echoes.

Exasperated surprises washes across the other’s features. A realization hits him too — the reasoning behind Kyungsoo’s persistent confusion. Finally, Han’s flipped back a couple of times so that they’re both on the same page. “Yes, brothers,” Lu Han shouts. “Because I love you too, you dumbass.”

“...Oh.”

Before Kyungsoo can do or say anything else (which is a good thing, because he probably would’ve just made things worse), Han storms out. He leaves a variety of loud noises in his wake — stomping footsteps, a slamming door, the rattling of glass as the key bowl nearly tips over.

“Oh.”

It’s like an eighteen-wheeler’s just plowed into him, realization flooding into him in flashes of memories. Things suddenly start to make sense; he wants to bash his head in — he should’ve figured it out right after Chanyeol spoke to him at the wedding. Chanyeol had actually said it to his face, and Kyungsoo just thought Han was doing a superb job acting.

“Han loves you a lot, you know.”

There is absolutely nothing in the world that could make him feel stupider than this very moment.

The whole thing was a mess from start to finish. He’d been callous and ignorant when he proposed the idea in the first place and continued with it, and then allowed doubt and self-deprecation to cloud his judgment — a mistake that would cost him Han forever.

If he had just been honest with Han about his feelings in the first place, he’d definitely be a lot happier than he wa snow. Han loved him. But remembering the pain that In Sung caused him years ago from not returning his affections stuck with him. It was as if his past rejection refused to allow him to think of any other outcome than the worst one.

Holy shit, Han loves him.

Kyungsoo tries to call him, eyeing the phone charger still left in the master bedroom. Han doesn’t pick up, and he doesn’t pick up the next fifteen times either. Eventually, a text message notification wakes him up from his dozing.

“Stop,” it reads. “I need space.”

Kyungsoo can’t exactly say no to that. So he leaves him alone.

Three days later, he comes home to see three people he didn’t invite over in his home. Shixun marches out first — so that’s why he wasn’t in the office today — with a stack of vaguely familiar books in his arms. He pointedly doesn’t look at Kyungsoo, instead opting to stab the elevator buttons. The next person to pop up, initially obscured by the several cardboard boxes he’s carrying, is Chanyeol. He barely gives Kyungsoo a passing glance before he ducks through the closing doors to stand next to Shixun, but the brief flicker of his eyes was enough to indicate judgment and derision. Yeah, Kyungsoo thinks as the light above the elevator signifies its descent. I already know I’m an asshole.

The last person to leave his apartment is Yifan, who has Han’s guitar slung over his shoulder, also carrying a number of boxes. He’s too late to catch the elevator with the other two so he’s stuck waiting in the hallway for it to come back up. Every fiber of Kyungsoo’s being is telling him to go inside of his apartment and lock the door and never open it again. Maybe never leave it again, either. He could always have food delivered to him, after all. But it’s the pure weight of Yifan’s presence that has him pinned to the spot. Yifan has been the closest thing Kyungsoo’s had to a brother after his actual elder brother moved away. So it’s twice as crushing to see the disappointed slump of his shoulders. He doesn’t even look at Kyungsoo.

The younger opens his mouth — whether to justify or disparage himself, he’s not sure — but Yifan speaks before he can get a word out. “I’m not going to ask why,” he says simply, back still turned. “Just… whatever your reasons were, I hope they were worth it.”

The elevator doors open, and Yifan steps inside. Kyungsoo all but sprints inside of his apartment, slamming the door shut behind him. He doesn’t dare to peek into the master bedroom until he needs to grab another sheaf of paper for his draft.

There isn’t a single trace of Lu Han left behind.

It’s as if he never lived there at all.

…

After that whole mess, Kyungsoo almost regretting he ever decided to have only mutual friends with Lu Han, only Joonmyun contacts him, asking gently if he’d like to go out for lunch. Joonmyun has always been the mediator among friends, for as long as Kyungsoo has known him at the very least. Though prone to acts of spite and impulse, as shown with his divorce, he’s just as good at getting people together and having them talk out their problems. However, he was promised Lu Han wouldn’t be there, and that was the only reason Kyungsoo accepted Joonmyun’s invitation.

He takes him to the café that started his downward spiral, though the look on Joonmyun’s face is more knowing than Kyungsoo originally thought. Aw, crap, he thinks. Even if Lu Han won’t be present, he’s going to have at least an hour of introspection shoved down his throat. Again, he thinks about fleeing, and again, he realizes it would be futile. Joonmyun’s hands shove him into the chair that he pulls out for him — a gesture that could have been a motherly offering of a seat, were it not for the force he exerted on Kyungsoo’s shoulders. It was always so easy to forget Joonmyun was shredded.

For the most part, Kyungsoo manages to navigate the initial “so, how’ve you been”s and “how’s work”s with relative discomfort and a modicum of simultaneous ease. The period of pleasantries doesn’t last very long, despite the fact it had been a number of weeks since they saw each other last. He’s halfway through the second bite of his sandwich before Joonmyun levels him with the Look.

“So,” says Joonmyun. “I’m sure that you know why I’ve called you out here.”

Kyungsoo gulps.

The elder doesn’t bother to beat around the bush, instead jumping to the meat of the discussion. “I don’t really understand why you did what you did, so I guess we should start there.” He folds his hands, looking almost like a therapist. “What exactly were you thinking when you asked Han to be your… fake boyfriend? It isn’t the most logical course of action if you have feelings for the person in question.”

“I didn’t know I had feelings for him then,” Kyungsoo protests. “Back then, I wasn’t thinking about that. I was just… I was hurt because of…” He scoffs, rubbing his forehead. “When I look back on it, I was being stupid. I was hurt that Chanyeol moved on so quickly when he specifically told me he wasn’t looking for commitment, and I wanted to prove that it wasn’t hard for me to move on either. I felt like he was lying about why he wanted to break up so that he wouldn’t hurt me. I didn’t want to look miserable in front of him so, I… I asked Han to pretend to be my boyfriend. I wanted to show that I was capable of finding true love too.”

Joonmyun blinks, then nods slowly. “So… what, he hurt your pride?”

He nodded.

“Then why did you keep fake-dating him after Chanyeol got out of your hair?” Joonmyun smiles gently. It’s that kind, sort of patronizing and maternal one. “You two kept this up for years, Kyungsoo. That’s not exactly easy to do.”

All he can do is shrug listlessly. “I don’t even know what I was thinking. It was easier that way, keeping up the charade. I wouldn’t have to make up some bullshit excuse why a seemingly happy couple broke up. Plus we were always taking advantage of couple deals and sales. I didn’t have to feel so self-conscious about being single, I wasn’t alone in that giant apartment anymore, and I just… I guess I got used to it. After one too many incidents where we needed to pretend we were together, it was just easy to stay that way.” He smiles ruefully. “I was happy to just let it drop after the wedding. But then Han took me to his work party, and I… I think I got addicted to it — the feeling of tricking people. Like it was our own little secret. But I don’t think even that feeling was all there was.”

“But you still decided to break up with him?” the elder presses. “You said it was easy to be with him, so why did you give it up? Sounds to me like you’d have been good okay with just being with Han forever.”

“That’s because I realized I liked him.” He swallows his sandwich, hands coming to lie flat on the table. His cheeks get warm in both shame and embarrassment, all of a sudden unable to look at Joonmyun as he spoke. “Before I realized I… I loved him. It was kind of a huge shock for me — I don’t know if you noticed — and I… I panicked. I fallen in love with only one other person, and that person was only interested in being friends with benefits. And then he fell in love. With someone who wasn’t me. That feeling? It sucked balls.

“I couldn’t deal with it if Han fell for someone else. I think I’ve always loved him, in the back of my head. I was just too blind to see that he was right there in front of me. So when I realized it, it was too much for me. It never occurred to me that he might’ve felt the same way, only that he would eventually leave me for someone else. He used to have a crush on a coworker, y’know. A surgeon. Some guy a billion times more qualified than me to be his actual boyfriend.

“I mean, look at me. Sure, I got a job that pays well. I cook, I clean. But I need everything spelled out for me, when it comes to stuff like this. I’m nowhere near as sensitive as the kind of guy Han needs and deserves. I’m petty, I don’t think things through, obviously. And that makes it suck even worse, because I love him and ruined everything, and I’m the worst candidate to be his boyfriend, and he apparently loved me too? How was I supposed to know, considering I didn’t… I didn’t even think people could love me at all?

“Well. It’s not like he loves me anymore. He probably hates me, more than anything else. I hurt him really badly, hyung. Really.” He bites his lip, trying to fight the prickling behind his eyes. “I wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to see me again.”

Joonmyun looked like he was holding in a sneeze the entire time he was talking. Kyungsoo had been trying to ignore the expression, but it was just too strange to let go. Joonmyun clears his throat and jerks his chin to the person behind him. It takes a few tries of the movement before Kyungsoo notices what he’s getting at, and when he turns around, he inhales sharply.

There are two people at the table behind him. He locks eyes with Yifan, whose own eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles at him. The man sitting closest to Kyungsoo has his back facing him, but Kyungsoo can recognize him all the same.

“Han,” he breathes. “Shit.” His chair knocks into the other’s as he scrambles out of his seat, but a hand gripping his wrist keeps Kyungsoo from being able to dart off.

“Stay,” Han says, quiet and low. “I want to talk.”

Kyungsoo looks to Joonmyun for help. All he does is get up and drag Yifan with him with a wink — but not before putting down his half of the bill. “We’ll leave you two alone,” he says, as if he’s blissfully unaware of how Kyungsoo’s eyes are begging for his aid. “I’m sure you both have a lot to say to one another.”

And with that, Joonmyun is gone.

Han still hasn’t let go of him. He uses his hold to pull Kyungsoo over to Yifan’s now-empty seat. “Sit,” he commands. His voice is surprisingly soft. “Please.”

Kyungsoo does, but isn’t quite sure what he should do afterwards. The atmosphere is heavy and awkward, worse than it was during their last fight. The tumultuous feelings are still there and he couldn’t exactly say that those feelings have calmed down since they last spoke. However, they aren’t so tumultuous that they’ve forced themselves into expression, so now they’re both sitting there, just staring at each other.

“Um,” says Lu Han eloquently. “I… overheard a lot.”

“...I figured.” Kyungsoo blinks expectantly.

Han clears his throat. “You love me?”

Kyungsoo nods, several times too many and far too earnestly. “I do. You left before I could tell you.” He doesn’t mean for the sentence to sound accusatory, and regrets the flash of hurt that splashes across Han’s face. “I, uh, don’t blame you for that, though. If I was in your shoes, I would’ve —”

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long have you known that you loved me?”

He trains his eyes on his lap, sheepish. He really ought to have dressed up more. This was not how he expected his big reunion with Han to go, to say nothing of the fact that he wasn’t expecting one at all. “Not very long. Like, a week before I stopped holding your hand. I know, I’m a dunce who needs an illustrated children’s book to spell out my own feelings for me —”

Han barks out a laugh. Customarily, Kyungsoo hates being interrupted. Now, though, he’s just content to have Lu Han near him. “Aw, jeez. We went about this the wrong way, didn’t we?” Han’s smile is just on the edge of bittersweet and hopeful. “I figured it out a long time ago — that I was in love with you. I should’ve said something about it, instead of keeping it to myself. I kind of felt the same thing you did. I was so terrified of you rejecting me that I never thought you might actually say you loved me too. By the time I worked up the courage to confess, you were infatuated with In Sung. So I just kept quiet.

“In a way, I’m the one to blame, too. It was hypocritical of me to call you out on trying to hide knowing about my feelings, when I was the one keeping them hidden for so long. But, I mean, it got us to where we are now, right? Both fully aware of our feelings for each other. It worked out, in the end.” There’s a cheekiness to his expression.

Kyungsoo’s throat feels dry. He doesn’t want to chance this, even now still cowardly. But he manages to force out the words. “H-how so?”

Han shifts, looking slightly uncomfortable. There’s a falter in his confidence. Kyungsoo can’t ever remember seeing him like this. “I mean, you love me, and I love you, right? None of that’s changed. So… I guess we could start this whole thing over. From the beginning. And for real.” He clears his throat. “What do you say?”

Kyungsoo’s grin threatens to rip his face open. His heart hammers furiously in his ribcage and butterflies flutter nervously in the pit of his stomach. Han still loves him. “Y-yeah. Yeah. Okay. Let’s do it.”

The other lets out a relieved exhale. “Oh, thank God. If you said no, that would’ve been really embarrassing.” He extends a pale, pretty, smooth hand. “Do Kyungsoo, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

Kyungsoo didn’t even need to think about it. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

Lu Han smiles, and it reaches his eyes. “Then we have a date. I’ll pick you up at seven?”

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