Archive of Our Own

“You’re too fucking depressing for the publishers,” Seungkwan sighs, fingers flipping through the papers like he’s reading through obituaries. “People want to see something new, something happy.”

“I’m sure Hong Jisoo from Seoul Scriptures can come up with another sappy romcom. They can go read that,” You scoff, sipping on the straw of your tea in hopes that it will wash the acid on your tongue. “And I’m not being depressing, I’m just writing about life as it is. If anything, I’m being realistic.”

Seungkwan sets the papers down, giving you a pointed look as he says, “You’re cynical, that’s not the same.”

“That poem is meant to be motivational,” You argue, leaning forward to trace the squiggles of ink. “Ease your soul, that doesn’t sound depressing to me.”

“It’s motivational until you say ‘the world has plenty of fangs to sink, crimson spills for those who think’—“ Seungkwan turns to look up at you. “How is that motivational?”

You pause, trying to think of a counterargument only to find none.

“Exactly,” Seungkwan continues, taking your silence like a token of his victory. “It’s one work, Y/N. They’re asking for one work that isn’t death, doom, and despair.”

“How the hell am I going to do that?” You groan into your hands before running your fingers frustratedly through your hair. “What do they want me to see from me exactly?”

“Love poems,” Seungkwan says quietly, like him making his volume any louder would set off the ticking time bomb in front of him.

Eyes sharpened, brows furrowed, you speak, “You’re kidding, right?”

“It’s good marketing!” Seungkwan argues, arms crossing in front of him like it would shield him from your bitterness. “The tortured poet finding hope and falling in love. That’s going to sell really well—“

“Except said tortured poet refuses to find either,” You retort. “Kwan-ah, you’ve known me since college. I don’t do that anymore. I’m perfectly fine with how I’m doing right now.”

It was half the truth. You like the solitude, the independence, the freedom. After a series of failed talking stages, situationships, and relationships where you got ghosted, cheated on, and treated like shit, being alone was a paradise you wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. However, you can’t deny that there are some days where you find yourself wondering what it would be like to be loved, or at the very least, treated right.

“Babe, you’ve had zero flings, zero situationships, and zero action since college. Hell, I don’t think you’ve even spoken to anyone in the male species unless it’s for work.” Seungkwan deadpans. “How are you okay with that?”

“I have zero relationship problems, and I can trust my vibrator, so I don’t see the problem.” You shrug. 

“This withdrawal from the dating economy should be mourned. I know plenty of men who’d be glad to give that poor, overworked vibrator of yours a break.” Seungkwan shakes his head, letting out a heavy sigh. “How the hell are you going to write love poems without the love?”

You know that Seungkwan—your self-proclaimed best friend and literary agent—means well, but the man can’t seem to understand that good male friends doesn’t automatically translate to good boyfriend, and good boyfriend doesn’t always mean a good long-term partner. His last match for you during your college years was a man named Kwon Soonyoung, and while he was nice, he had a weird tiger obsession and long-term plans that clashed with yours. You went on a total of three dates before ending things, and while amicable, it was a little awkward for a while considering that you were in the same circle of friends.

‘Don’t shit where you eat’ was the lesson you learned then.

“First of all, get those men away from me,” You reply with a disgusted look on your face. “Second, I won’t write the poems.”

You had other sources of income anyway. If they wouldn’t publish your works now, then you could just wait until they will… But then again you have that—

“Need I remind you of the condo unit you just bought?” Seungkwan raises a brow, and dread fills your stomach at the reminder. “That shit’s expensive by the way.”

It is, and despite the fact that you were earning well from your previous works, you’d need to live like a pauper and take a vow of poverty if you wanted to pay off the monthly installment and fees. Sure, you had your savings to tap into, but you refused to since that was meant for emergency funds in case you found yourself flopping hard like a one-hit wonder.

Oh fuck.

“Can’t I just sell it?” You turn to Seungkwan with wide eyes, the gravity of the situation finally initiating its pull.

“Bitch, it doesn’t work that way,” Seungkwan gives you the most ‘what the fuck’ look he can muster as he says it. “You better say goodbye to your overpriced lattes and pilates classes.”

Fucking shit.

Goodbye matcha. Goodbye Thai tea. Goodbye Saturday pilates and Wednesday yoga flow sessions. Goodbye funds for your vibrator’s batteries—

“How much time do I have?” You ask, hand tightening around what may very well be your last taste of high-quality Assam. 

“They didn’t give a deadline, but considering how dull your lovelife and outlook is, you might want to work on it as soon as possible,” Seungkwan replies, his tone a confusing mix of smug and worried. “Should I start giving your number out?”

“Keep it, that’s my last resort,” You practically beg as you slam your head onto the wooden table. “Fuck, I’m so screwed.”

“Congratulations on finally realizing that,” Seungkwan snorts. “Just fake it until you make it.”

You can do this, you think. It’s just a few flowery words here and there. Slap some love and longing onto the pages, and you’ll be good to go. You’ve done theater, so you’re sure that you can act like a lovesick idiot. You just needed to get into the right headspace, and you’d soon be writing words that would make Hong Jisoo’s stupid romcoms look like a modern Macbeth. You’ll get those cheesy love poems done in no time.

It’s not like you had a choice.

(But it didn’t feel right)

You feel like David without the sling and divinity.

The building stands tall in the center of the city’s most expensive district, and everything about it screams ‘outsider’ at you like a snobbish behemoth of gilded walls and marble floors. The only reason you could even afford the one-bedroom unit was because the owner’s wife loved your work so much that her husband gave you a discount, but even then, it was expensive.

Maybe you should’ve invested your money in a class for financial literacy instead.

“Good morning, Ms. L/N,” The receptionist, Hana, greets you with a smile polished by years in the industry and thousands of customer service workshops. “Director Na and the madam have been looking forward to your arrival.”

Hana pulls out a box from below, a white box with a bow that had the name of some designer brand written all over it. You thought that was it, but like an endless machine of won and wealth, Hana pulls out a bottle of wine and a few more trinkets that look equally expensive.

You think that if you sold all of this, you’d have more than enough payment for the next few months.

“They couldn’t personally welcome you today, so they tasked me to give these to you instead,” Hana informs you before waving to someone on the side. “Junho can bring it up for you. It might be too heavy.”

A young man in his early twenties walks up to the reception desk and takes the things Hana pulled out. The kid looked like he could be an idol, why the hell was he bellhoping in a condominium? Why did the condo even have a bellhop?

“Thank you,” is the only thing you can say while you try to school your expression. You’re sure that the non-existent crowd here can sniff the middle-class on you, but you’re not about to make it more apparent. What did you get yourself into? 

“Do you have any things to bring up to your unit? Junho can assist you with that as well, if ever,” Hana offers.

“Oh no, it’s just me,” You wave her off with a nervous laugh. “All my things are there already.”

“That’s good to hear,” Hana chirps. “Welcome to Aurea Hills!”

Even the place’s name was bathed in gold.

With a polite farewell and hurried steps, you walk towards the elevator with Junho trailing behind you. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t even breathe too loud, and you’re wondering how many snippy rich folks he’s had to endure to reach that level unnoticeable.

When you get to your unit on the 28th floor, you’re quick to open the door and allow Junho to set the owners’ gifts down on the table. With a polite bow and soft goodbye, he takes his leave without wasting another second. As soon as he’s out, you’re quick to shut the door behind you.

Fuck, you really were punching above your weight.

You’ve been to the unit before. Director Na and his wife had toured you around when they offered it, and you remember being so enchanted by the place that you immediately and stupidly agreed. That was the greed they spoke about in the Bible, and this was your repentance.

You needed to work your ass off and churn out those poems like a lovesick fool on steroids if you wanted to keep yourself afloat in the tumultuous ocean of your poor financial decisions. For the next few months, you’d be a prisoner of capitalism and Cupid.

At the very least, your prison looked good. Everything, from the furniture to the appliances, was a variant of some unrecognizable brand that only those who know, know. Unfortunately for you, you did not know, not fully, but the expensive fabric of the curtains artfully gathered to the side to frame the floor-to-ceiling windows told you enough. 

Money talks, wealth whispers, and you were about to scream your head off.

With a deep exhale, you slump onto the sofa. It presses around you like a cloud, and you can only hope that tension bleeding from your form wouldn’t stain the cushions with bad energy. It would be a waste considering that they probably hired some overpriced pungsu-jiri expert to maximize the luck and good vibes for this place. 

20 minutes. You’re giving yourself 20 minutes to mourn your money and dread the future of your writing career before you go out and explore the rest of the condominium’s amenities. Maybe you’d go for a swim and stain their rich people pool water with your presence.

Mingyu shuts the book with a scoff. 

Of all the things he could snag from his sister’s shelf to read during his vacation, he just had to get the most depressing one. He didn’t know what half of these lines even represented—math had always made more sense to him—but even Mingyu could tell that the book was born from the tears and spite of a middle-aged woman going through a rough divorce. 

Screw this enriching his mind shit, he was going for a swim. 

Mingyu carefully tucks the book into his duffel bag—he did steal it without the owner’s knowledge—before rising to his feet and stretching. Slowly, sensually, like he was still on the clock for his shoots, Mingyu takes his shirt off, and a smug smirk makes its way to his face when he catches the lingering stares and the parted lips.

That’s right, he thinks, stare. 

He doesn’t entertain them, doesn’t give the poorly-concealed gawking any attention as he dips into the pool. Maybe if he was younger, fresher, and less desensitized to the attention, he would’ve entertained a few of the good-looking women eyeing him like meat, but he was done with that period of his life.

After years of messing around with models, actresses, and idols, Mingyu just wanted something real. He’s sick of the superficial relationships that only served to boost status and hoard fame, sick of the people who approach him only to see if he’d grant them access. He’s sick of being treated like a trophy, a conquest. 

Mingyu wanted someone to enjoy his life with. Someone who’d make the nights warmer and the mornings slower. He wanted someone who saw beyond the Calvin Klein ads and the Dior runways, but for some reason, the universe couldn’t grant him that. However, he isn’t going to give up just yet.

What Kim Mingyu wants, Kim Mingyu gets.

After a short dip in the pool, Mingyu rises from the water, walking to where his things are and pulling out a towel to dry himself. His mind is plagued by what to do next. As a famous model, Mingyu didn’t have much time for himself—the L’Occitane ad is hypocrisy at its finest—so suddenly having so much of it was throwing him off.

Gym? Running? Cooking? Mingyu’s not sure. Maybe he’ll just let his feet take him somewhere until it feels right.

Mingyu throws the towel on his shoulder and slings his bag, heading for the showers near the pool. All is going well in his 50-meter journey to the bathroom until he gets hit by a rushing body.

Despite the weak force, Mingyu finds himself thrown off balance, the world tilting as he falls on his back and a weight drops onto him—

Squeeze.

There’s a woman on top of him, pretty, but he’s used to pretty so it didn’t matter. What got his attention was the fact that she was wide-eyed, dowright fucking fascinated as her hands grip onto his pecs for stability? Depravity?

Mingyu thinks the woman doesn’t realize what she’s doing because the next thing he knows—after a few more disbelieving squeezes—she’s yelping apologies, scrambling to her feet, bowing deeply, and running away.

‘For someone so pretty, she’s a fucking weirdo,’ Mingyu thinks.

With a cool facade, Mingyu straightens himself and continues on to the bathroom. He can’t help the way he pauses to check himself out in the mirror, eyes trained on his chest to see what was so interesting about them that it had that stranger so entranced. Mingyu won’t deny that he can still feel her touch on him like a phantom limb that sent all his blood rushing south. 

Damn, he needed to get laid soon if some clumsy freak was getting him going. However, that’s the least of his concerns, he needed to bathe soon if he wanted to be productive.

The bathroom of the condominium lobby you’re in is cold, quiet, and it gives you the space to replay the mortifying memory at the pool. It’s fresh in your head in the way the meat at slaughterhouses are, and you’re flinching at the way the memory cuts like a butcher’s knife and cringing at the scent of chlorine like it was blood.

In your defense, you didn’t see him! You were jogging along the side of the pool because it was so long, and your attention was captured by the pretty patterns of the pool tiles. So technically, the two of you were at fault for not looking at where you were walking. Your only mistake was not realizing where your hand fell—

Shit, that was so embarrassing.

You aren’t particularly religious, but you pray that at least one deity will grant you the wish of never seeing that man again. What if he remembered your face? What if he sued you for touching him like a weirdo? You’ve only been here for a day. You refused to go to prison.

With a deep inhale, you step out of the bathroom, head popping out of the door to scan your surroundings to look out for the man. When you find that the coast is clear, you immediately run into the elevator that was rapidly closing.

Thankfully, the person inside notices you and keeps it open.

“Thank you—“

Oh.

Fuck.

No.

The adonis from earlier stands in front of you, fully clothed and pecs out of sight, eyes taking you in as he leans back on the elevator’s railings.

Your stomach drops to your feet when you see the recognition in his eyes. You wonder if you can still open the doors and make a run for it, but the sound of the elevator doors shutting gives you the answer: no, you can’t.

Immediately, you’re turning around, squeezing yourself closer to the front of the elevator where the buttons are to ensure that the distance between you and this man is as large as possible.

Holyfuckingshitwhatcrimeinaperson’spastlifecouldmakethemdeservethisbullshitintheirnextlife—

“Excuse me,” The man speaks, and you turn to see him stepping a little closer as he motions to the buttons on the wall. 

“Ah, sorry. What floor?” You ask, busying yourself with the buttons as you try to calm your racing heart. This was the worst possible situation, and you didn’t even expect it to happen because even this was too cruel for an unfeeling universe.

Apparently, it isn’t.

It couldn’t possibly get worse than this.

“28th, please. Thank you.”

Well, scratch that. Turns out it can get worse because you realize that this hunk of a man whose pecs you squeezed like a stress ball lives on the same floor as you.

Oh god, should you just get off on a different floor? What if he thinks you’re stalking him? What if he reports you, and you wake up to the police banging on your door? You’re stacking case upon case like a seasoned felon, and it’s getting extremely concerning.

You can feel his eyes on you, boring into your skull despite the light hum of a song leaving his throat. His gaze is too intense for someone who’s trying to seem nonchalant. You think this situation isn’t different from those thrillers with the serial killers that whistle while stalking their victim before they inevitably strike.

When the elevator doors open, you’re quick to rush to your door and leave the man and the ghost of your sins behind you.

You pat at your pockets hurriedly, trying to remember where you haphazardly shoved your keys.

“Oh, you’re my new neighbor,” The man comments as he walks past you, and you freeze, keys now in hand. Too late to run away.

Then, like a cruel joke from the universe that only the damned and the divine find funny, the man stops on the door beside yours and fishes out his own keys.

“Yeah,” You reply with an awkward laugh, shoving your key in.

“Try not to squeeze any more pecs, Ms. Pervert,” The man says with a smirk before entering his condo unit.

Absolutely mortified, the only thing you can do is walk into your unit, shut the door, and collapse to your knees on the polished floors.

You were never going to leave your unit again.

Ever.

However, that vow only lasts a total of three days before Maslow hits you with the base of his stupid triangle.

The fridge is empty, the words are not flowing, and you’re about to go insane from the lack of movement. You needed to go out and stretch, get some sun, touch some grass, but you couldn’t do that in fear of crossing paths with your neighbor, Kim Mingyu.

You had searched him up after realizing that he looked familiar, and to your horror, you found out that he’s a famous model. Innisfree, Calvin Klein, Dior, L’Occitane, BVLGARI—just looking at the words had you caving in on yourself. He’s a big name amongst the big names, and he probably has the bank and the connections to sue you.

Fuck, you were so dead.

One of these days, you were going to open your mail and find a subpoena sitting pretty like a noose around your life and career’s neck. However, that was a problem for future you. Present you needed to stock up on supplies like a doomsday prepper.

Thankfully, your little trip to the grocery is uneventful, and you’re able to fill your kitchen and bathroom with supplies peacefully. There was no sighting of Mingyu or the police, so you consider this little operation of yours successful.

Once you're done sorting, you walk to the living room, sit on the floor, and reopen your laptop that was placed on the coffee table.

Well, now what?

The singular black line on the document flickers like it’s mocking you, ticking like the hand of a clock reminding you of your race against time and monthly dues.

Why did people have to be so in love with love?

It’s overrated!

The pining is fun, the thrill of a new prospect is fun, but when the novelty wears off and you’re left to deal with the pieces of your broken heart, it no longer is. Only the universe knows how many times you thought you’ve found the one only to be severely disappointed every single time. It had gotten to a point where you just gave up on love altogether and resigned yourself to a life of being alone.

Men ain’t shit (why the fuck did you still find yourself attracted to them?).

However, you can’t dwell on that. Complaining wasn’t going to take you anywhere. You needed material, you needed love. It didn’t have to be yours because that’s extremely unlikely, but you needed someone who still had hope for it. Someone with a lovesickness so virulent that you have no choice but to be infected by it.

The problem: you don’t go out of your unit.

Frustrated, you shut your laptop off and head to your balcony—yes, the absurdly expensive condo unit has it—to lounge and stare off into the cityscape.

You’d have to pull the big guns for this (pen and paper).

Kim Mingyu was living the life.

He’s on his balcony, slumped against a chair as he chugs his post-workout protein shake. He thinks he made a good choice investing in this condo. He had quick access to malls, hospitals, and parks, and he had a unit overlooking Seoul’s beautiful cityscape. Additionally, the exclusivity of the residence ensured that he was paparazzi-free. Mingyu hadn’t been able to enjoy the unit up until a week ago, too caught up in the chaos of his job. His condo was basically a glorified bed with how much time he spent outside, but not anymore.

He deserved this break.

Perhaps the only flaw of the place was his perverted neighbor, but even that wasn’t much of an issue. Maybe it was the attraction or the lack of action talking, but Mingyu thinks he wouldn’t mind feeling your hands all over him again. You’re pretty. Freaky, maybe, but pretty. The loose-fitting cover-up with the atrocious flower patterns you wore did nothing to dull that pretty face of yours.

Mingyu hopes to see you again. If only to fuck with you and see that flustered look.

That wish is quickly granted, and Mingyu practically cheers.

The balcony door on the unit beside Mingyu’s slides open, and lo and behold, his sweet little pervert of a neighbor walks out in spaghetti straps and loose pants that do nothing to conceal.

Who would’ve thought that little miss pervert was hiding all of that?

For a while, Mingyu only watches, not wanting to alarm you with his presence. You’re staring off into the city like you’re holding the weight of the world, and Mingyu wonders what kind of problems plague that pretty little head. Some part of him is tempted to call out and ask, but he was too busy enjoying the new addition to his view. It’s not often that he gets to see a pretty woman on a balcony like he’s in the middle of a cheesy romcom.

Unfortunately, Mingyu is an extrovert, and his desire to shut up only lasts a total of two minutes.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Mingyu calls out, and he relishes in the sight of you jolting at the sound of his voice.

“How long have you been there?!” You cry out, one hand gripping on the railings and the other clutching at your chest.

“A while,” Mingyu grins. “How have you been?”

“Busy,” You reply, hand on the door. “So excuse me—“

“Wait!” Mingyu calls out, and you halt in your exit to look at him. “At least tell me your name.”

“Why would I give you that?” You frown at him. “You’re a stranger.”

“I’m your neighbor,” Mingyu rolls his eyes playfully, if only to match your sour attitude. “Plus, would you prefer that I keep calling you Ms. Pervert?”

Mingyu doesn’t miss the way you flinch at the name, amusement flooding his senses. 

“I’m not a pervert. It was an honest mistake,” You huff out. “It’s Y/N, can I leave now?”

“You’re not gonna ask for my name?” Mingyu fake pouts.

“No,” is the only thing you say before taking a step in.

“It’s Mingyu!” He calls out before he hears the telltale click of a door sliding closed.

There’s a stupid grin on Mingyu’s face in the aftermath of it all. He turns your name around in his head, even going as far as to test it on his tongue, and something in him flutters when he realizes how easily it rolls off.

Satisfied, Mingyu stands up, giving your balcony one final look before he enters his unit.

Mingyu can’t wait for the next time your paths cross again.

One poem. 

It took you five long torturous days of writing, rewriting, crossing out, and crumpling to produce a whopping 17 syllables. Your stupid ex’s dick was longer than this shit—

You lay your head back on the couch, eyes trained on the crystals of the overpriced chandelier. Maybe one of these days, the tether holding it would snap Phantom of the Opera style, and you’d be spared from this mortal torment.

The paper is tucked away. It’s not your best, but it was better than nothing. You needed more material, more experience, more interaction. You weren’t going to deny that your neighbor may have served as a muse, but you wouldn’t go as far as to say that you liked him. He called you a pervert and smirks like he’s the shit. If anything, you hated his guts!

It just so happened that he had been your closest encounter with the male species—save for Seungkwan—in months, and he had the kind of face (and body, your treacherous little brain adds) that made it easy to be delusional. It was easier to tap into those giddy feelings of first encounters around a man like that.

However, that doesn’t change the fact that you still hate his guts, nor does it sway your determination in avoiding him. You’re not sure how long the prescriptive period for your offense is, but you doubt that it’s less than a year, let alone five days.

Slowly, you rise to your feet, stretching away the weight of the day with a yawn before you throw on a hoodie. On your way out, you grab your notebook, a pen, your keys, and your wallet. Maybe a quick visit to the cafe would get your creative juices flowing. 

The closest cafe is situated across the road, and it’s breathtaking.

Xu’s is an ode to traditional Chinese architecture, Suzhou-style. There’s harmony in the way the hand-crafted decorations blend with the greenery, harmony in the scent of tea leaves and beans swirling in the air. It was less of a cafe and more of a modern art exhibition doused in nostalgia dating back centuries.

“Welcome to Xu’s,” The man behind the register looks too important to be an employee, the poorly-concealed crispness of his clothes contrasting the uniforms of the other people behind the counters. “What can I get you?”

“Any recommendations?” You ask, looking through the menu. Relief washes over you when you see matcha and Thai tea on the menu. They probably sold it for situations like this when people like you with a mainstream tongue walked in.

“I personally prefer Oolong if I want something light, but Pu’er is good if you’re looking for something with a deeper flavor,” The man replies. When your face doesn’t give away satisfaction, he adds, “We have milk tea, matcha, and some other sweeter options if you’re in the mood for something… Basic.”

You thank the heavens he offered those because you were not in the mood to be drinking floral water, “I’ll get a matcha latte.”

The man snorts, and you can practically see his eyes spell out ‘GREEN TEA BITCH’ in bold, uppercase, and neon as he punches your order in.

“Good choice,” The man says though his tone says otherwise. “Your name?”

You give him your name, and he’s quick to write it down on the cup. With the hint of a smile, he sends you off, “We’ll call out your name.”

You’re not sure if you made a potential friend or landed yourself on the hitlist of a tea enthusiast. You might just become a regular here, if only to find out.

The drink is good, like you had just fallen face-first into a patch of grass on the outskirts of a sugarcane plantation. It’s the right amount of bitter, sweet, and milk. However, even with the drink and the ambience, your notebook still remains empty.

You’ll just come back tomorrow and hope that inspiration hits you like a speeding train.

Tomorrow becomes the day after, and the day after that, and the day after that day after until going to the cafe became part of your routine. You had been to the place so often that you could now call the cafe’s owner, Minghao, a friend.

Of sorts.

He likes you in the way cats like their chosen humans: aloof, judgmental, with an occasional bout of something greater than tolerance but less than outright affection.

“You again?” Minghao practically complains as you walk into Xu’s for the nth time this week. 

“The one and only,” You reply, walking up to the counter. “I’ll get the Oolong.”

Minghao raises a brow, suspicion all over his face as notes your order, “That’s new. Who are you?”

“Needed something new,” You shrug, heading over to your usual spot close to the counter. “Maybe it’ll help with the writing.”

The spot near the counter always had the most foot traffic. While it seems counterproductive considering how beneficial peace and quiet is to a writer, more foot traffic meant more chances of spotting something or someone that would pique your interest enough to turn them into an unwitting muse. So far, it isn’t working, but you weren’t about to give up.

“Still nothing?” Minghao asks, eyes briefly flickering over your blank notebook as he sets the cup of Oolong tea down on your table.

“Nope,” You reply, confirming Minghao’s words. “I’ll get there… Hopefully.”

“Well, good luck,” Minghao says before walking off and leaving you to your own devices.

“Are you a writer?”

You slam your notebook shut and whip your head around at the disturbance, only to be met by a familiar face. 

Kim Mingyu.

“None of your business,” You reply hurriedly, hands smoothing protectively over your notebook. 

What the hell was Kim Mingyu doing at Xu’s? Well, not that you had a say on where he went or what he did, but Xu’s was your escape. Your little sanctuary! You didn’t even think that Mingyu would step foot in a place like this. He looked like the type to only drink protein shakes or water with no in-between.

Why the hell is he taking the seat in front of you?

“Do you two know each other?” Minghao asks with a brow raised as he works away behind the counter.

“No,” You blurt out at the same time that Mingyu answers, “Yes.”

Minghao gives the two of you a look that’s half confusion and half suspicion. “Do you guys need me to step away so you can regroup and come up with a final answer or…?”

“She’s my neighbor,” Mingyu clarifies, and Minghao’s eyes shoot wide open.

“That neighbor?” Minghao says it in such a shocked, judgmental tone that you almost feel offended. “The apex predator?”

“Sorry, I’m right here?” You interject, giving the two a small wave. “Do you two know each other? Also, apex predator? Of all the nicknames, why the hell—“

“Apex,” Minghao interrupts you to clarify, pointing to his chest. 

“Sorry?” You ask, tilting your head slightly as confusion kicks at your brain like it’s a useless computer that will only work after a little roughhousing.

“A-pecs predator,” Minghao says slowly like it will make the words sink in faster. “You’re a writer, right? It’s a pun on pectorals.”

All the blood leaves your face as Mingyu starts cackling across from you.

Why you ought to beat this little sh—

“It was an accident!” You defend yourself, eyes shooting daggers at Mingyu as you resist the urge to strangle him in broad daylight. You’d be adding another crime to your list if you did that. “He wasn’t looking at where he was walking.”

“Neither were you,” Mingyu counters, crossing his arms in a way that has his sleeves holding on for dear life. “But you didn’t see me start grabbing your chest like a stress ball—“

You’re quick to cover Mingyu’s mouth with your hand.

The man only raises a brow in challenge before you feel a warm and wet sensation glide across your palm.

“Ew!” You shriek, quickly taking a tissue and wiping your hand clean.

Mingyu scoffs, “People would pay for that experience—“

“Okay, can the two of you stop flirting in my cafe?” Minghao’s face crumples in disgust as he sets Mingyu’s iced americano down on the table.

“We’re not flirting,” You vehemently deny, still rubbing the saliva off your palm.

“She’s right, it’s not flirting,” Mingyu grins like a dog with bad intentions before sipping on the straw of his drink. “It’s foreplay.”

You don’t miss the way Minghao fake gags from the corner of your eye.

“You’re aware that this is a little unconventional for our first full-length conversation, right?” You ask, looking at Mingyu in disbelief. At this point, you’d also be able to sue this self-centered, narcissistic, unfairly handsome asshole for talking to you like that. Is this the kind of shit attractive people can get away with?

“Our first meeting wasn’t conventional either,” Mingyu shrugs. “Just following your lead.”

“I am not leading you anywhere,” You hiss in annoyance. “And when are you going to let that go? It was an honest mistake.”

“Until it stops being funny,” Mingyu replies.

You can feel a vein on your head pop at his nonchalance. “Oh, fuck you.”

“My place or yours?” Mingyu leans forward, eyes flickering suggestively down to your lips before locking your gazes.

“Hao, I’m leaving,” You huff out, downing the rest of your tea before grabbing your stuff.

“Mingyu 1, Y/N 0,” is the only thing Minghao says to you as he waves goodbye.

There’s a smug, self-satisfied look on Mingyu’s face as you leave. To make matters worse, he sends a wink your way when he catches you observing him.

You resist the urge to flip him off.

For now, you retreat, but one thing is for sure: you’re not going to let Mingyu bully you out of your favorite cafe.

Xu’s has become a routine stop for Mingyu, and much to Minghao’s chagrin, Mingyu wasn’t going to stop anytime soon.

Minghao can blame you for that.

The first time Mingyu saw you in the cafe, he was on his way to a short jogging session. He had caught sight of you through the glass, hunched over and brows furrowed as you scratched your pen away on the paper like it was your greatest enemy.

The second time he sees you, you’re in the same spot, but this time, you’re chatting away with Minghao. The paper is still there, pinned against the wood with your pen like a blade pressed against it’s neck, but the furrow in your brow is gone… You’re smiling. 

Mingyu thinks it’s his first time seeing you do that.

The third time he sees you, Mingyu gets sick of just seeing you. He strolls into the cafe, orders an iced americano, and creeps up behind you to see what you were writing.

Outside your house

And in my bed

Mingyu concludes: freak.

The rest of his time in the cafe is spent pissing you off just to see those animated expressions on your face, and when you leave, Mingyu already finds himself wanting more.

“She’s always here in the mornings,” Minghao says, and Mingyu thinks it’s useless because already knows. “What are you plotting?”

Of course, Xu Minghao has known him for years. That man can read him like an open book. Not that Mingyu was trying to hide anything, but still.

“She’s interesting,” Mingyu replies, and it’s true. That’s all there is to it. It’s the novelty of the entire situation that has him so invested.

“It’s never good when you’re interested,” Minghao sighs from behind the counter, but the concern is still palpable all the way to where Mingyu’s seated. “Don’t get hurt, I guess.”

“I don’t even know her,” Mingyu scoffs. Hurt? Him? He wasn’t going to romance you. You were just interesting.

“Well, at the rate you’re going, you’re about to,” Minghao replies. “Just, be careful. I don’t think she’s looking for anything right now.”

“I’m not going to date her,” Mingyu frowns. “I’m past casual dating.”

“Sure, I believe you,” Minghao replies sarcastically as he whips up another order behind the counter. “Wasn’t Chan offering to set you up with someone? Why not take him up on the offer?”

Mingyu’s shoulders slump in defeat. “Is it bad that I want something organic?”

Minghao starts cackling like it’s the funniest thing he’s heard in a while. “In this dating economy? The only thing organic here is my tea, and you don’t even drink those.”

“Whatever,” Mingyu grumbles, swirling the straw of his iced americano. 

It’ll come, he thinks. Sooner rather than later, he hopes.

For the next few days, Mingyu bothers you. He goes to the cafe at your usual time, and without fail, you’re still there despite his constant pestering. You’re stubborn, he’ll give you that. You’re unwilling to let him encroach on what you’ve deemed your territory, but what you don’t realize is:

You’re playing right into his game.

Well, it’s not a game… Technically. It’s just lighthearted fun, a friendly bonding session between neighbors that leaves bystanders confused on whether the two of you were about to kill each other or give everyone a show.

It’s a good thing that Minghao placed his cafe in a more quiet, exclusive side of the city because if anyone heard the conversations you and Mingyu had… Well, it would be a scandal. Hell, even just sitting across from you would be enough to cause an uproar. 

“You know, you never tell me what you’re writing,” Mingyu comments, sipping on his iced americano (again).

You give him a pointed look before you clutch the papers closer to your chest. “Like I said before, it’s none of your business.”

“Tell me,” Mingyu pouts.

“No,” You say firmly, pen still tapping on the blank pages.

“Please?” Mingyu practically whines. You better give in soon because he was pulling out the big guns.

“Can you—“ You groan in frustration. “I’m writing love poems, okay? Are you happy? Can you be quiet now?”

“Love poems?” Mingyu snorts at the absurdity. He has nothing against love poems, but he didn’t expect you of all people to be writing about that. Given his first impression of you, he thought you’d be writing erotica or something along those lines. “You don’t look like the type.”

“Thanks for pointing out the obvious,” You huff out. “People want something new from me, unfortunately.”

“People?” Mingyu tilts his head in question. “Wait—Are you actually a writer? Like professionally?”

You stare at Mingyu like he’s grown a second head, and Mingyu doesn’t miss the sound of Minghao cackling in the background after overhearing your conversation.

Wow, so Mingyu really was the only one who didn’t know.

“Yes?” You stare at him weirdly, hands pausing on the paper before you continue speaking, “Do I look like I’d choose to suffer this much if I wasn’t getting paid for it?”

“Damn, I didn’t even think to search your name,” Mingyu pulls out his phone, and panic quickly makes its way onto your face. “What’s your surname?”

You look at him, “I’m not telling you—“

“It’s L/N,” Minghao answers, and Mingyu smirks at the way your face morphs into betrayal. 

Mingyu - 2, Y/N - 0

Like a kid on Christmas Day, Mingyu types away on his phone and hits search.

“Damn,” Mingyu lets out a low whistle when he sees the works listed under your name. Your profile is full of your works, none of the descriptions delving into any personal details or even pictures of you. He was about to give up searching for scandalous information until a familiar title catches his eye. “You wrote this?”

Mingyu turns his phone to make you look at it.

You furrow your brows, scanning over the words on his phone. “I did. Is there a problem?”

“I thought you were like—a bitter middle-aged woman going through a divorce,” Mingyu admits, pulling his phone away to look through more of your works. He’d have to check some of these out.

“Sorry for not… Meeting your expectations? I guess?” You eye him warily before your confusion turns into panic. “Did you read it—“

“Some of it,” Mingyu grins, taking a screenshot of your famous works before turning his phone off. “Read enough to wonder who the hell hurt you.”

“It’s not my fault men do nothing but disappoint,” You scoff defensively, taking a sip from your drink. 

Mingyu raises a brow, “I’m a man… You know that, right?”

“Hate to break it to you, bud,” You lean forward. “But you’re only proving my point.”

Mingyu clicks his tongue before his lips tug into an amused smirk, “You haven’t even tried with me.”

“And I have zero plans,” You scoff. “I know your type, Kim Mingyu. I’m done with playboys.”

Mingyu leans forward to match you, and he watches as cracks start forming on your unbothered facade, “I don’t do that anymore.”

“Save your excuses for someone who wants to hear them,” You reply, pulling away and clicking your pen. “Now, can I write in peace?”

Mingyu only nods.

He’ll get you to crack soon enough.

(Though he’s not sure why he’s so hellbent on doing that)

Kim Mingyu is a fucking thorn on your side, but something about his presence seemed to get your creative juices—not the only juices—flowing. So maybe he was less of a thorn and more of a syringe plunging into you to fill you with creativity—

There was a better way of wording that, surely.

Either way, you had a few poems to work with, and though it took you many days and numerous cups of tea from Xu’s, it was better than when you first started.

Maybe you wouldn’t have to surrender your poor financial decisions if you kept this up!

The only problem is that Kim Mingyu does things to your heart that make you want to rip it from your chest and fling it off your balcony. He’s an attractive guy, that itself was enough to tickle something in you. It’s only made worse by his wit and that godawful teasing he can’t seem to stop doing. The man had made it a habit to bother you in the morning before going on his runs, and you both loathed and lived for those meetings.

It was fun, you guess, but that’s all there is to it.

Who would say no to the constant flirting of a man that you were somewhat attracted to? Yes, you were attracted to the man. You had enough self-awareness to admit that. However, attraction is all it is. It’s simple chemistry that’s never going to move forward in its reaction because you and Mingyu are worlds apart despite living next to each other. Not only that but Kim Mingyu has the kind of history that you’ll do anything and everything to avoid.

Womanizer.

But that didn’t matter. It’s none of your concern. After all, the only thing you should be concerned with is how you’re going to unwind after days of bleeding yourself dry onto the pages of your notebook.

Should you go to a park and relax? Go to the pool and unwind? Get cozy in your bed and pull out your vib—

You decide to go for a walk by the Han River.

After a quick shower, you throw on a shirt, loose jogging pants, and your most trusted rubber shoes. You take nothing with you other than a small bag, your wallet, and your condo keys.

Unsurprisingly, the closest station is a considerable distance from Aurea Hills, and it takes a long walk before you arrive at the station. At this point, you could just walk back home instead of going all the way to the riverside. Screw rich people and their exclusionist tendencies, they just had to make access difficult.

All the tension in your body leaves the moment you get to the riverside.

This part of the city thrums with life, like a living, breathing entity of all things mundane. There’s a light sound in the air, a symphony of engines humming low, cyclers zipping past, soles hitting ground, and winds blowing slowly. Their harmony is never too loud, almost as if the birds in the trees and the river’s stream all agreed to maintain a frequency set to peace.

You’re glad you came out today.

The sun shines on your back, but it doesn’t burn. It’s a warm touch upon your skin that’s followed by the soft kiss of some northern wind, and you find that their cycle does nothing but to soothe. 

Briefly, you wonder what you should do next. You could get jjajangmyeon in a nearby restaurant, or you could just call a delivery service so that you can enjoy a picnic by the river… Or not.

The riverside is always plagued by lovey-dovey couples feeding each other pizza slices and bullshit. The last thing you wanted to do was sit there all alone and become some couple’s conversation topic while they cuddled up like idiots under the morning sun

(Was it the bitterness speaking? Somewhat)

Jjajangmyeon it is! However, you needed to take a seat before your legs gave out. You had been so caught up in admiring the view that you failed to notice the way your legs were screaming for rest. Thankfully, you managed to stop in a park with numerous benches.

It’s even quieter here now that you’re away from the road. The only thing you can hear is the rustling of the trees and the occasional laughter and murmuring from the people in the park. There’s a group of elders doing taichi on one side, and there’s a group of friends joking around on the other. Occasionally, a runner or a biker will move past, and you’ve turned it into a game of guessing which will come next.

You’re about to leave, already standing up to walk, when Kim Mingyu makes his appearance like a plot twist that doesn’t make sense.

Damn it.

Kim Mingyu is in running gear: black shoes, black shorts, black bag, black tank, and black cap. He’s jogging over to you like he’s in a sports gear ad, and it’s so captivating that you almost miss little miss sunshine a few paces behind him who’s bathed in blonde, babe, and beauty.

Goddamn they looked like a power couple.

“Baby~” Mingyu breathes out with a bright smile before wrapping you in his sweaty—ridiculously beefy—arms. “Sorry for making you wait.”

Baby? 

You’re about to push Mingyu off and swear at him for getting his sweat all over you, but your eyes catch sight of the plea in his eyes and the livid look on little miss sunshine’s face, and all of a sudden, it clicks.

Lights, camera, action.

“You made me wait too long,” You huff out in the most sickening aegyo tone you can muster. Had this been real, you’d be gagging all over the park’s stone path, but you were honestly too into character to even think about the repercussions of your actions. “You’re buying me two servings of jjajangmyeon to make up for it.”

Mingyu looks like he’s torn between laughing his ass off and sending you to the hospital in fear as he pulls away from the hug. However, that expression only lasts for a total of a second before he jumps back into character, “I know, baby. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Are you Mingyu’s girlfriend?” The bleached blonde beauty finally makes her entrance into the scene, and now you’re torn between acting crazy or unbothered. You note that the livid expression on her face from earlier is gone, replaced by a sickly sweet facade that you know would have Minghao calling her the prime example of a green tea bitch.

What a lovely day to be dethroned.

“Yes, and you are?” You give her a poorly concealed scowl, and to really sell the crazily jealous girlfriend act, you take one of Mingyu’s arms and cling onto it like a leech.

“Y/N this is Yejin. She’s one of my coworkers,” Mingyu introduces. “Yejin this is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Yejin says with a friendly bow like she wasn’t mentally murdering you just a few seconds ago. “I didn’t know Mingyu had a girlfriend.”

Fuck, you don’t have enough of a backstory for this. What false details did Mingyu tell her? How do you strike balance between intimacy and vagueness in this little impromptu acting workshop?

“Some things are better off private,” You giggle, leaning your head onto Mingyu’s shoulder. “I’m not really fond of the spotlight.”

“Why not? You’re so pretty,” Yejin says it like she means it, and you have to resist the urge to break out into goosebumps.

Damn, she’s good at this.

“Oh stop, you’re so much prettier,” You reply in an equally saccharine tone. “It was nice to meet you, but we really need to get going. Right, oppa?”

Disgusting. You were ABSOLUTELY disgusting—

Mingyu pinches your cheek like he’s absolutely enamored, “She’s right. Can’t keep my cute girlfriend waiting.”

“You two are so cute together,” Yejin giggles, but you just know that if looks could kill, you’d be sprawled out on the ground in a pool of your own blood and regret. “I also have somewhere to be, so I’ll get going. Have fun you two!”

Yejin exits the stage with a jog, and you’re left to continue the scene with Mingyu until she’s out of sight. Like the clingy girlfriend you’re meant to be, you’re quick to drag Mingyu to the closest restaurant that sells jjajangmyeon.

“You did well there,” Mingyu compliments, allowing you to drag him to wherever your heart desires. “Where are you taking your oppa, baby?”

“Shut up before I throw you into the river,” You hiss, continuing to tug at the man’s wrist. “You owe me jjajangmyeon and an explanation.”

“Got it, boss,” Mingyu mock-salutes before he intertwines his fingers with yours and matches your pace. When you give him a questioning look, he just shrugs and replies, “We’re supposed to be a couple, remember?”

“Yejin isn’t even here,” You retort, trying to pry your fingers from his grip only to fail. 

“You never know, she could be hiding in the bushes—“

“Mingyu lower your cap,” You say it like a warning, suddenly alarmed. “Do you have a mask?”

In the distance, you can see a poorly-concealed man with his camera out, and it’s pointing straight in your direction.

“I do, why?” Mingyu asks, lowering his cap with his free hand.

“Someone’s taking pictures,” You reply.

“Oh,” Mingyu says it like it’s just another day. Like the sun is hot and the grass is green. “I thought it was serious.”

You look at him disbelievingly, trying your best to angle yourself in a way that won’t reveal your face to the man with the camera. “I swear if we end up in a dating scandal—“

“It won’t be my first,” Mingyu shrugs, his hold tightening on you before he gives you a mischievous grin. 

“Mingyu, I do not want my face all over the internet,” You hiss, subtly covering the lower half of your face with your palm as you drag Mingyu to walk faster.

“Wait,” Mingyu pauses in his tracks and forces you to stand still. He moves to pull a mask from his pocket, and he takes off his cap.

“Finally,” You mutter. At least, he was finally listening to you—

The next thing you know, Mingyu’s cap is on your head and his mask is strung behind your ears. You stare at him incredulously, and you pray to the heavens that the mask isn’t used.

(Why the fuck is your heart fluttering?)

“There, your face is hidden,” Mingyu says before taking your hand and walking. “You want jjajangmyeon, right? I know a place that’s more… Private.”

That was the least of concerns now that your face is hidden. “Is the mask clean?”

Mingyu laughs at that, “That’s what you're concerned about? I haven’t used it, don’t worry.”

You sigh in relief.

The next thing you know, you’re in a small restaurant situated in the middle of a desolate street. That speaks volumes on how secluded this place is considering how busy the city’s streets get in broad daylight.

You’re sitting across from Mingyu, watching as he orders dish after dish with a familiarity only a regular could carry themselves with. He’s polite, nice, and you’d even go as far as to say that he’s charming with the way he interacts with the old lady taking his order.

Ahjumma, if only you knew.

When Mingyu’s gaze turns to you, you’re quick to speak, “Explain yourself.”

“Getting straight to the point, I see,” Mingyu remarks before taking a sip of water from his cup. “She’s a co-worker, and she doesn’t know how to take no for an answer.”

Mingyu clasps his hands in front of him, “I saw you sitting and took the opportunity to show her that I have a girlfriend. You did great by the way. Have you considered acting as a career?”

“I did theater, but that’s not the point,” You sigh. “I swear, if she starts spreading rumors—“

Mingyu’s phone rings loudly, cutting you off. Upon seeing the caller, he’s quick to stand and excuse himself to take the call, “Give me a second.”

Even with the window separating you, it’s clear that the conversation is tense. Mingyu’s running a hand through his hair in frustration, pacing on the empty street in front of the equally empty restaurant as the person on the other end continues to talk.

When Mingyu walks in, he looks like he’s about to say something that you aren’t going to like. With a deep breath, he sits and speaks, “Date me.”

“Sorry?” You ask incredulously, wondering if you heard him right. “What are you on?”

“I mean like, fake date me,” Mingyu practically pleads. 

“Why the hell would I do that?” You question, observing as Mingyu fiddles with his phone and slides it over to you. “What brought this on—oh fuck.”

All the blood leaves your face when your mind registers the headlines.

Kim Mingyu Spotted on a Han River Date with Mystery Woman

And right below it is a picture of Mingyu, face exposed to the world as he looped the strings of the mask behind your ears. Thankfully, your face was obscured, but knowing the masses, it would only take a while before they figured out your name, address, and history. Hell, they could probably figure out your first pet’s birthday if they really wanted to.

Seungkwan was going to fucking flip.

You were going to fucking die.

“Just a few months,” Mingyu says, pleads. “Apparently, Yejin was approached, and she confirmed our ‘relationship’, and it won’t look good if I lied about it—“

“No good deed goes unpunished,” You mumble to yourself before letting out a humorless laugh, head buried into your hands. “I do one good deed, and I’m being punished for it. What’s stopping me from telling them the truth?”

“Y/N, please,” Mingyu grabs one of your hands and kneels on the floor. Damn, he really was desperate. “You don’t have to do it everyday. Only enough to convince everyone it’s real.”

“Mingyu, stand up,” You say it like a warning, looking around to see if anyone was witnessing this. Thankfully, there was no one. When Mingyu gets back to his seat, you ask, “What’s in it for me?”

“Self-satisfaction in knowing that you helped a poor soul?” Mingyu offers with a sheepish grin.

You give him a blank stare, “Not interested in that. Offer something better.”

Mingyu looks like he’s thinking very hard, his little fang digging into his bottom lip as his fingers tap away anxiously on the wooden table. Then, he pauses.

It’s like something clicks.

“I won’t sue you,” Mingyu says, and you realize that you’re staring into the eyes of a man that had driven himself to madness. “Remember the pool incident? I won’t sue you for that.”

“Screw you, I thought we were over that,” You hiss, eyes shooting daggers at Mingyu. “Are you seriously resorting to blackmail?”

“Yes, so help me,” Mingyu says. “I can even help you with your writing! You need material right? Love stories? I have plenty of that—Well, I wouldn’t say love, but something close. I can give you insight!”

Well, now he was talking.

(Also, you really did not want to get sued)

“You seriously don’t have to do much,” Mingyu continues to pitch. “Just appear in a few posts, go on a few dates, and then after a few months we can break up. I’ll even let you be the one to break up with me.”

Wow, he says that like it’s a perk.

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this shit,” You whisper to yourself before turning to Mingyu. “Fine, but I want more perks.”

“Ok, name your price,” Mingyu picks up his phone and opens his notes app.

“You pay for all the dates, and whenever we’re at Xu’s you pay for the drinks,” You start. “And you have to pay for my groceries.”

If Mingyu did all of that, you’d have an easier time paying off the monthly fees without struggling. You’d be able to save more money and buy useless things just because—

“That’s it?” Mingyu looks confused. “I was going to pay for the dates anyway… Are you sure you don’t want anything else?”

Damn, should you have asked for 10 million won monthly instead?

“10 million won?” You suggest, and you’re mortified when Mingyu doesn’t even flinch as he starts typing. “No wait, I’m kidding.”

Because even though you’re struggling, you refused to just take his money like that. It felt wrong… You’d even go as far as saying that it felt a little demeaning.

“It’s fine—“

“Take it off your notes or I won’t do it,” You huff out, and you find yourself satisfied when Mingyu hits backspace over and over. “Actually delete all of it. Helping me with the writing and not suing me is fine.”

“I insist,” Mingyu replies. “It’s nothing, really.”

“I won’t help you if you don’t agree to the terms,” You threaten. “I’m fine.”

Your pride was too great to ever swallow a deal like that. 

“Okay, but I’m paying for the dates,” Mingyu says with finality, and you don’t think he’s going to budge even if you argue. “Anything else?”

“The details,” You state, but when you catch sight of the old lady from earlier walking out of the kitchen, you’re quick to steer the conversation. “But let’s talk at home.”

You didn’t expect that home meant Mingyu’s condominium unit.

It’s clean, not psychopathic clean, but more of a clean that came with a son that had good upbringing. While you weren’t expecting a pigsty, you were, at the very least, expecting to see the same kind of disorder all your exes’ rooms exhibited.

You were pleasantly surprised, at least.

“Okay, let’s talk about the details,” Mingyu says from behind you as he pushes the door closed behind him. He walks past you, plopping on the expensive-looking couch that puts your bed to shame. 

You take a seat beside him, careful to leave a considerable amount of space before you pull out your phone and start typing as the two of you discuss.

By the end of the lengthy discussion, you come to an agreement that satisfies all the parties involved.

First, no one is allowed to know that the relationship is fake. The truth of its nature can only be known to you and Mingyu. After all, loose lips sink ships, and you weren’t about to let all your efforts go down into the depths.

Second, PDA is unavoidable because it wouldn’t be believable for an allegedly ‘retired’ playboy to be suddenly acting like a prude. Hugging and kissing will be done if necessary.

Third, the agreement lasts until you finish your poetry book to ensure that you get your end of the deal. Kim Mingyu will help you gather material for the poetry book.

Fourth, Kim Mingyu will shoulder all the costs of the agreement.

Lastly, Kim Mingyu is no longer allowed to use the pool incident against you.

The sky is already dark when the two of you finish. Damn, who would’ve thought that a stupid arrangement would take that much time from what was supposed to be your rest day?

“Do we have anything else to cover?” You ask, trying to look useful, but you’re sincerely hoping that Mingyu says no.

“No,” Mingyu says and you practically cheer. “We’re done for tonight.”

You move to stand. “Okay, I’ll get going—“

“Wait,” Mingyu calls out, grabbing your wrist. “I’m cooking dinner, you should eat here.”

“It’s okay. I have food at home,” You reply.

“I insist,” Mingyu says, standing up from his spot on the couch. “Plus, we can turn it into a soft launch opportunity, no?”

Well, you couldn’t argue with that.

“Wow, you’re seriously thinking of every single detail,” You reply as you follow Mingyu into his kitchen. “Do you even know how to cook?”

Mingyu turns around a fraction before giving you a ridiculously handsome grin that has your poor, unsuspecting heart fluttering. “Sit and find out.”

You don’t know if that’s a threat or a promise, but you follow his words anyway.

Almost as if the kitchen was an extension of him, Mingyu navigates the place with an ease that can only be obtained through years of experience. He’s skillful in every aspect, from the way he cuts to the way he fries, and by the end of it, he strides up to you with two bowls of bulgogi in hand.

Damn, even his plating was impressive.

“Take a picture,” Mingyu says as he hands you his phone. “Nothing says ‘couple’ more than a homecooked dinner date.”

“And nothing says ‘playboy’ more than a keen attention to details like this,” You tease, opening Mingyu’s camera app and pointing the phone straight in his direction. “Say cheese, loverboy.”

“I’m retired, okay?” Mingyu rolls his eyes playfully as he poses for the pictures. “I don’t do casual dating anymore.”

“But fake dating is okay?” You snort, handing Mingyu the phone.

“Fake and casual are different, so yes,” Mingyu counters, hands positioning the phone to point in your direction. “Your turn.”

“Aren’t your pictures enough?” You complain, but you smile for the pictures anyway. You refused to look like shit on a model’s phone. Your pride cannot live with that.

“We need to be believable,” Mingyu shrugs. “What kind of boyfriend has more pictures of himself than his girlfriend?”

“I don’t know, the regular kind?” You shrug. None of your exes bothered to take pictures of you. They didn’t really bother posting about your relationship, after all.

“Yikes, what kind of men have you been dating?” Mingyu practically winces at your words. “No wonder your poems are so bitter.”

“Like I said before, all men do is disappoint,” You sigh heavily. “Are the pictures okay?”

“You look fine, don't worry,” Mingyu replies. “Now, which picture should I post?”

“That one,” You point to one picture.

There’s two bowls in the picture, two pairs of utensils, and two glasses. Mingyu is smiling widely, fangs poking out as he stares straight ahead. His eyes aren’t locked onto the lens, no. From the perspective of anyone who’d look at the picture, they’d realize that Mingyu’s seemingly lovesick eyes are trained on the one behind the camera. 

Damn, he was good at this.

“It’s almost like you read my mind,” Mingyu nods in approval. “Now for the caption.”

[min9yu_k] ‘Dinner for two <3’

Simple, sappy, and straight to the point. It’s clear that Mingyu has done this a million times before you with numerous other girls.

“Do you have Instagram?” Mingyu asks, finger hovering over the arrow on his screen.

“Nope,” You shake your head. “I deactivated my social media accounts years ago.”

“Okay Ms. Mysterious,” Mingyu teases. “That makes it easier to fake all of this then.”

Once Mingyu finishes posting, the two of you dig in.

The bulgogi is heaven in a bowl. Sweet and savory battle it out on your tongue in a graceful bout, and you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes back and audibly moan at how good it tasted. Not only that, but the beef was perfectly cooked, tender and chewy with a roughness that complements the softness of the rice.

Kim Mingyu had the hands of a Michelin-star chef.

“Is it good?” Mingyu looks at you nervously like he didn’t just give you an orgasm with his cooking.

“Can we add a clause that requires you to cook for me?” You reply through bites. “How did you make bulgogi taste this good? It’s insane.”

Mingyu laughs at your words, shyness written all over his features despite the way he seems to glow from your praise, “I can cook for you if you want. No clause needed. It’s the least I can do for dragging you into this mess.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” You tease. 

The rest of the night is spent with light conversation about anything and everything under the sun, though most of it revolved around getting to know each other. Despite the fact that Mingyu pesters you everyday at Xu’s, you realize that none of your conversations ever got this… Familiar.

You learn that Mingyu has a sister, and that he grew up helping his mother around the house because his father had a very demanding job. You learn that he has a trouble-making streak, but you conclude from his stories that he is still very much a loving son and a reliable older brother. You learn about his dogs, his elementary school professors, his college shenanigans, and his eventual entry into the world of modeling.

In exchange, you tell him about your own family. You tell him about the humble home with nostalgia at the forefront. You tell him about the tree you scraped your knees climbing back in elementary. You tell him about your high school crushes and the delusions that came with it. Then, you proceed to recount all your failed relationships, and some part of you feels vindicated by the wince on Mingyu’s face as you revisit the horrors of your past. Then you tell him about the poems, and you find that he seems to be soaking up each and every word.

That’s when you conclude that Kim Mingyu was a great person to talk to when he wasn’t constantly teasing you or throwing quick-witted innuendos your way.

You don’t think you mind being friends with Kim Mingyu.

Were you friends?

Dinner passes by in the blink of an eye, and the next thing you know, it’s already 10:30 PM. Your eyes practically jump out of their sockets when you catch sight of the clock on Mingyu’s wall.

“Oh my god, it’s late,” You blink at the clock over and over, unable to believe what you were seeing. 

“I didn’t even realize the time,” Mingyu replies, looking just as shocked as you. “Sorry for making you stay so late.”

“It’s nothing, I had a good time, anyway,” You smile, and every bit of it is sincere. “I should get going.”

Mingyu walks you all the way to your door. You told him that it’s a little useless considering that the two of you lived next to each other, but he insisted on doing it anyway. You can’t deny the way your heart flutters at his concern, but you’re quick to remind yourself that he only knows how to be this considerate because he’s done it a million times before.

“Good night, Mingyu,” You say as you step into your unit.

“Good night,” Mingyu replies, waving as you shut the door.

And so, it starts.

“So when did you plan on telling me that you were dating a fucking model?” Seungkwan’s cussing you out in your own home, pacing like he’s trying to shine the tiles with his socks, but you don’t bite back because you’d probably react the same way.

Seungkwan is your best friend, and finding out about your relationship to Mr. Playboy–after years of swearing off men–through the internet is next-level betrayal. Especially when Seungkwan has been doing his best to look for decent guys for you, and somehow you chose the worst of the damned litter.

“Surprise?” You laugh nervously from your spot on the couch, smile sheepish. Unfortunately, you had to lie to your best friend, and despite the orientation on your fake relationship’s backstory a few days ago with Mingyu, you’re still afraid because Seungkwan has a sixth sense for your bullshit.

“Surprise?!” Seungkwan gives you that judgmental stare he has when the two of you are discussing other people’s lives despite it being none of your business. “I thought you were done with fuckboys so why are you dating the worst of them all?”

“He’s not that bad,” You mumble, fiddling with your fingers like a girlfriend that’s torn between defending her man and second-guessing her entire relationship. If you hadn’t sworn to the deal, you’d be agreeing with Seungkwan. “He treats me well.”

“That– He–” Seungkwan screws his eyes shut, takes a deep breath, goes through a series of movements that look like allusions to him violently shaking someone (you, probably), and exhales. After the micro-crash out session, he continues, “That’s his thing! He’s the picture-perfect boyfriend until he finds some new babe to date and then he’ll leave the current girl for the next. How long have the two of you even been together? Hell, not even that. How long have you two known each other?”

Based on the backstory that you and Mingyu crafted, the two of you met on the day you moved in, which isn’t a lie. Eventually, the two of you got closer and fell in love with each other, a lie. After that, the two of you made the relationship official a day before the Han River incident. The closer your story is to the truth, the less chances of you two fucking up.

(There’s a nagging voice in your head that says it’s also easier to blur things this way, but you shut it up)

“We met when I moved in, but we made it official a few days ago.” You reply, trying to keep your voice stable as you lie through your teeth. 

“You met him when you moved in?” Seungkwan pauses in his pacing to stare you dead in the eye. “Does he live here?”

You think Seungkwan is about to strangle you, but there’s really nothing you can do. With a trembling heart and widened eyes, you speak, “Yes… He lives next door, actually.”

A beat. 

The sound of Seungkwan laughing echoes through your apartment, humorless and disbelieving as he lets the words sink in.

“Are you kidding me?” Seungkwan says in exasperation. “What happened to not shitting where you eat, huh? What are you gonna do when he breaks up with you, brings over a chick, bangs her, and lets you hear everything?”

Wow, overthinker much?

Though the concern is not baseless considering that you caught one of your exes in bed–your bed–with one of the girls from your class that he told you not to worry about.

With a sigh, you reply, “Well, the walls are thick–”

“Your head is thick too!” Seungkwan retorts, slumping down on the sofa beside you before grasping your shoulders with a serious look in his face. “Y/N, I love you. You are my bestie, my ride-or-die, I would cover up a body for you, but please, for the love of all that is good and great… Pick. Better. Men.”

You’d be touched by his concern if none of this was fake.

“Kwan-ah, I know,” You say, injecting little hints of false defeat into your tone. Someone give you a fucking Oscar, cause damn. “But give him a chance, okay? Plus, weren’t you the one who was concerned about how I’m going to write about love when I’m not in love?”

“Girl, at the rate you’re going, you’re gonna be writing your most depressing work yet,” Seungkwan replies, concern written all over his face. “Is it about the poems? Is that why? I’ll search for a different publisher. We’ll go international if we have to–”

“Kwan-ah, it’s okay. I’m going to finish what I started,” You say, and this one… This isn’t a lie. You already had some poems up your sleeve, and you were going to see this to the end. “I already have a few poems.”

“Damn, that quick?” Seungkwan’s concern suddenly morphs into intrigue. “Can I read them?”

“Wait here,” You say before rushing to your bedroom to get the papers.

Seungkwan looks up from the pages and stares at you like he doesn’t know you.

“Bitch, is the dick that good?” Seungkwan says so suddenly and crudely that you’re left with no choice but to laugh. “No, seriously. ‘Thrum against my bones’, ‘an unlikely blend of beens’, and let’s not forget ‘take me somewhere no one has before’. Who are you?”

“We haven’t, I mean… Yeah,” You flush at Seungkwan’s words, hands flailing uselessly to get your point across. You have not tangled in the sheets with Kim Mingyu. You had no plans of ever tangling in the sheets with Kim Mingyu. And despite his teasing, you doubt that Mingyu would want to do that either after you touched him like a creep.

“How have you not jumped that?!” Seungkwan cries out in disbelief. “That’s the only perk of dating him, and you’re not maximizing it?”

Some part of you actually feels defensive, and you don’t know why. Mingyu, despite his atrocious dating history, actually seemed like a decent guy. Sure, he’s attractive, but he had a charm and a quick wit that was somehow more interesting than his looks. He plays hard, but he works even harder, and that’s something you respect. Not only that but he was kind, too. A good son, a good brother, and a good friend, it’s something only few have the privilege of knowing. 

Yikes, why were you getting sappy all of a sudden?

“We’re taking it slow,” You reply. “I really like him, okay? Just give him a chance.”

And maybe you meant that. Because Kim Mingyu deserved the chance to be known for things beyond the flashy ads, the fancy runways, and the callous dating history. 

You still weren’t going to let your guard down, of course, but you also weren’t going to let your biases affect how you treat him or talk to him.

“When can I meet him, then?” Seungkwan asks, and suddenly you’re back to being nervous and fearing for your life.

And like a sick joke from the universe, your phone on the coffee table buzzes and lights up with the nickname Mingyu set for himself.

[loverboy <3]: are you in your unit?

[loverboy <3]: ordered too much chicken, I need someone to eat it with

And that’s odd because Kim Mingyu was able to scarf down two bowls of jjajangmyeon on top of a platter of chicken the last time you ate with him outside. But that’s the least of your concerns considering that Seungkwan’s eyes were trained on the screen of your phone like a hawk.

[Y/N]: I am, but Seungkwan is here too.

[Y/N]: Say hi!!

It’s code for ‘you better get your shit together because Boo Seungkwan is reading through your conversation like a nosy auntie’.

[Y/N]: Are you coming over?

You can’t believe that this is how Mingyu’s going to take his first step into your apartment. If he agrees to come… That is. None of your boyfriends liked Seungkwan because he was too overprotective, and none of them were able to believe that your bond with the man was purely platonic. While Mingyu is just a fake boyfriend, some part of you still hopes that they get along.

[loverboy <3]: hi Seungkwan! 

[loverboy <3]: omw baby, just sit there all pretty and perfect

Screw this man and his quick ability to adapt.

“Baby? All pretty and perfect?’ Seungkwan practically gags, pushing your phone away like it offended him. “What lies have you been feeding this poor man?”

You stare at him incredulously, “I thought you were on my side.”

“Yes, but this man sounds whipped. What the fuck?” Seungkwan cringes. “Please keep the PDA to a minimum. I’m begging.”

A few minutes pass, and suddenly, there’s a knock on your door.

“Looks like loverboy’s here,” Seungkwan snorts. “Let’s see if he really deserves you.”

You rush over to the door and open it with a swing to reveal Mingyu in a CK shirt and jeans looking boyfriend as fuck as he raises two plastic bags full of boxes of chicken. “Hi, love.”

Mingyu presses a kiss to your cheek that has you flushing as he kicks his shoes off and nudges them to the side. Like a supportive girlfriend, you take one of the bags from him and drag him to the living room after he shuts the door closed behind him.

“Seungkwan, meet Mingyu. Mingyu, meet Seungkwan.” You introduce them before sitting on the couch and watching as Mingyu bows and offers your best friend a handshake.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Mingyu says as he sets the chicken down on the coffee table before taking a seat beside you. “Y/N has told me a lot about you.”

“Only good things, I hope,” Seungkwan’s eyes flicker over to you, and you can only smile nervously. “I wish I could say the same, but I only found out about you a few hours ago.”

“Sorry about that,” Mingyu laughs apologetically like it’s real. 

“It’s my fault,” You interject. “I couldn’t find the right time, and the paparazzi were faster.”

“Baby, no,” Mingyu places a hand on your thigh and gives it a comforting squeeze, and you have to fight every single brain cell that’s screaming at the sensation. Fuck, you needed to get laid. “It’s not your fault that people are nosy.”

Seungkwan looks like he’s one sappy word or act of PDA away from gagging all over your expensive wooden table, “Hyung–Wait, can I call you hyung?”

“Go ahead,” Mingyu lightly laughs with a smile as he leans back on the couch and rests an arm behind you.

“Okay, hyung. I need you to be honest with me,” Seungkwan starts, and you already want to throw yourself off the balcony. “What are your intentions with my best friend?”

“Only good ones,” Mingyu quickly replies, and his eyes flicker over to you before returning to meet Seungkwan’s questioning gaze. “I know it’s hard to believe given my history, but I really am serious about her. I’ve left those habits in the past, and I think…”

Mingyu takes a deep breath, turns to you with the most lovesick gaze, tucks your hair behind your ear, and speaks, “I think I’ve found something real with this one.”

God, if you didn’t know this was all fake, you’d think it’s real.

“Oh shit, you’re gone, dude,” Seungkwan chokes out in disbelief, hand coming up to cover his mouth at the lovey-dovey sight in front of him. “Hyung, is she blackmailing you to do this? I can call the cops, no problem.”

WOW. A few charming words is all it took to get your best friend to turn on you. If anyone here was getting blackmailed, it was you, but you don’t say that. Instead, you bite your tongue and send a heated glare towards Seungkwan.

“No, the only crime she did is stealing my heart,” Mingyu says with a pinch to your cheek. “She’s already paying for it in full.”

You’re not going to survive this.

By the time Seungkwan has to leave, you think he’s more distraught by the fact that he has to part with Mingyu than with you. The two clicked so well and had conversations all on their own, and you were left feeling like a third-wheel the entire time. You’re honestly starting to fear for your spot as Seungkwan’s best friend, but you’re more afraid of what could happen when all of this ends.

Fuck, you did not think this through.

“I like him,” Mingyu says after shutting your door and plopping back on the couch beside you. “He even gave me his number, look!”

Mingyu shows you the screen of his phone like a six-year old holding up a poor rendition of a family portrait, smile bright and eyes proud. On the screen is a number you’ve memorized by heart with the name on top of it being ‘Bestie Boo’.

“Are you fake dating him or me?” You scoff. “Yah Kim Mingyu, you better not be trying to steal my friends.”

“You took Hao from me, I’ll take Boo from you. Fair trade,” Mingyu shrugs before grinning at you mischievously. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” You shake your head. “Just worried about the fallout when this inevitably ends.”

“You can tell him the truth after,” Mingyu replies like it’s not that big of a concern. “We’re still going to be friends after anyway. So it’s not that much of an issue.”

Well, at least you know now that you can call Mingyu a friend. It’s a little unconventional, the way this friendship started, but at least it’s one hell of a story.

“You’re too positive,” You roll your eyes, but the action holds no heat. If anything, you were amazed at how Mingyu seemed to track through life with light steps and an easy soul.

“And you’re too negative, so ease up,” Mingyu says with a nudge to your shoulder. “Maybe that’s why we met.”

“What do you mean?” You frown.

“Like magnets,” Mingyu replies, holding two fingers up and apart before slowly bringing them together to further illustrate his point. “Opposite charges attract, like charges repel.”

“That’s… Oddly poetic of you,” You let out an airy laugh. “Who’d have thought you had that in you?”

“There’s more where that came from, so stick around and find out,” Mingyu winks playfully, and you find that it has your heart skipping beats and your stomach jumping in circles.

It’s everything Hong Jisoo writes in his stupid romcoms and more. It’s the fluttering, the beating of a butterfly’s wings that sends swirls of glitterdust and shine mixing in your stomach. It’s the warmth, the rushing of blood into your unsuspecting cheeks that has your ribcage shaking from the force of your heart beating.

You needed to get a grip before all of this went to shit.

For your first fake date, Mingyu takes you to an amusement park somewhere in Yongin.

It’s something you’ve planned on doing these days, but you never got around to it—Seungkwan was always too busy to accompany you—so when Mingyu raised the idea, you were quick to agree.

When the day comes, you’re practically buzzing in Mingyu’s car like the perfect passenger princess, dolled up and dressed in peak girlfriend aesthetic.

“You excited?” Mingyu asks from beside you when the traffic lights turn red. 

“Yes,” You quickly reply. “I’ve been meaning to go, but everyone’s too busy, so this is perfect timing.”

“We’ll be there the entire day, so just enjoy yourself,” Mingyu smiles before shifting to drive once the lights turn green.

When the two of you arrive, you practically drag Mingyu into the park. It’s a weekday, and it’s still early, so there were only a few people around, but if you idled any longer, you’re sure that a crowd will start to form so you refuse to take any chances.

Once you’ve secured your tickets and entered the park, Mingyu is quick to intertwine your fingers and hand you a park map that he snagged from the information booth. “Where should we go first?”

“Let’s start simple,” You answer, eyes scanning through the map. “Then we’ll do the extreme rides last.”

It starts out really well.

Mingyu follows you to all the rides that all the tweens go on, enjoys them with a bright smile on his face and even drags you to some he finds interesting. It’s cute, watching him walk around with your hand in his, eyes fresh and full of curiosity.

Every once in a while, he’ll stop to take pictures, ones of himself and ones of you. At one point, he even tapped a complete stranger to take a picture of the two of you, and she had been kind enough to get your best angles. Afterwards, she had asked to take a picture with Mingyu.

“Eonnie, please take care of Mingyu-oppa,” is what she said to you with a smile after you returned her phone.

“Fighting, please stay together forever!” Are her parting words, and Mingyu has a field day with it.

“You hear that?” Mingyu grins as he intertwines your fingers. “You’re stuck with me forever.”

“It won’t take me forever to write that book,” You scoff, but you hold his hand anyway. 

After a quick lunch, you start going to the extreme rides, and this is where everything goes downhill… For Mingyu, at least. You, on the other hand, were having the time of your life. 

Mingyu, despite the tremble in his eye and the weakness in his knees, indulges you. You tried telling him that it was fine if you didn’t ride or if you just rode alone, but Mingyu refused, wanting to accompany you every single step of the way. You’re not sure if he enjoyed it, considering that each ride had him bending over and clutching his knees the moment he got off.

“Gyu, are you good?” You ask softly after a particularly rough ride that swung, spin, and stole the souls of everyone on board.

Mingyu, who was previously slumped against the chairs, is quick to stand up and beam at you, though the look in his eyes is still very dazed. “Yes, don’t worry about me.”

Unfortunately, you do worry, and though there were a few more rides you wanted to go on, you don’t go to them. Instead, you take Mingyu’s hand and drag him to the closest ice scream stand.

You notice the way Mingyu’s eyes seem to linger on the ice cream cone belonging to a kid that ordered in front of you. It’s an atrocious shade of green with specks of chocolate. 

“One mint chocolate and one plain chocolate, please,” You say, handing bills to the woman before Mingyu can pull out his own wallet.

“Why’d you pay?” Mingyu practically whines when you pull him to the side to wait. “I’m supposed to pay for everything, remember?”

“Consider it my apology for putting you through all those rides,” You tease. “Thanks, by the way.”

“Pfft, it was nothing. I was enjoying it too,” Mingyu says arrogantly, confidently, in a manner so self-assured like he wasn’t closing his eyes in every ride and clutching onto the safety belts until his knuckles turned white.

You give him a questioning look, and he’s quick to backtrack, “Okay, maybe I was a little scared, but can you blame me? Imagine everything that could go wrong if the ride malfunctions.”

Mingyu then goes off on a tangent about amusement ride accidents, the statistics, and the probability of finding yourself in one. It basically sums up to: the chances are low, but they’re never zero.

By the time he finishes, you’re already handing him a cone of mint chocolate chip ice cream and licking at your own ice cream.

“How’d you know?” Mingyu asks as he brings the cone to his mouth.

“Know what?” You ask, frowning as the cream melts and runs down the side of your cone.

“The flavor,” Mingyu replies, eyes locked on how you’re licking at the melting cream before it drips to the ground. “How’d you know I liked it?”

“Lucky guess,” You shrug. “You were staring at the kid’s cone like you wanted to steal it.”

“I would never steal from a child,” Mingyu defends with a frown before his gaze turns soft. “Thanks.”

“Welcome~” You absent-mindedly say in a sing-song voice. You don’t bother making conversation with Mingyu after that, too busy people-watching and enjoying the taste of the cream on your tongue.

Nothing beats ice cream on a sunny afternoon, you think.

The park is a little busy, but it isn’t too crowded. There’s enough families, friends, and lovers strolling around to breathe life into the park, but not too much to the point that you feel suffocated. It’s fun watching them, you think. 

There’s something about seeing people live through what may be one of their happiest memories, it makes you feel warm. You look at the child tugging onto her mother with a smile, and you wonder if she’ll grow up and look back at this fondly. You look at the friends noisily walking down the park path with laughter echoing from their group, and you wonder if they’ll go home and tell their families about how much fun they had today. 

You’d be part of the faceless crowd in their happy memory, but a part of it nonetheless. 

You can’t help but smile.

The click of a camera snaps you from your musings, and you’re quick to turn to Mingyu who’s discreetly pocketing his phone.

“Yah, let me see,” You frown.

“Nope, for my eyes only,” Mingyu teases, sticking his tongue out at you.

“That’s literally my face!” You complain petulantly.

“Still for my eyes only,” Mingyu shrugs. “You look fine, don’t worry.”

You only huff, continuing to eat your ice cream with a frown.

“I’ll send the pictures to you,” Mingyu relents, and the frown on your face eases. “Wait, you have something…”

“Hm?” You hum in question, turning to Mingyu, only to be stopped by his thumb wiping away at the corner of your mouth. Without hesitation, he brings the thumb to his mouth and sucks it clean.

Your heart skips a beat, but you don’t let it show.

“You had something on your face,” Mingyu replies casually before going back to eating his ice cream like he didn’t just tilt your world on its axis. “Where to next?”

“We’re testing your boyfriend skills,” You grin with excitement, quickly brushing off the scene that just took place. You refused to dwell on it lest it mess with your feelings more than it already has. “How good are you at carnival games?”

Mingyu matches your excited grin, “Just point at what you want, and I’ll get it for you.”

Turns out, Mingyu wasn’t all talk.

Something about a man being ridiculously confident and having the skills to actually live up to it just does something to you, you think. It has your stomach flipping and—it’s a little crude but there’s no other way to say it—your panties dropping whenever Mingyu strolls up to you with a bright grin and a prize in hand.

It’s not always successful. After all, Mingyu’s only human, but he doesn’t stop at the first failure. If anything, the first failure only has him more determined. It has him stepping back, analyzing, recalibrating, and doing better after each and every failed attempt until he eventually gets it.

The worst (best) part of it, is that he looked so good doing all of it too. You’re sure you’re not the only one gawking at your—fake—boyfriend tossing rings and shooting balls in his fit t-shirt and jeans, the Calvin Klein waistband making an appearance every once in a while when his shirt rode up.

Damn it.

By the end of it, you have a huge bag full of stuffed toys and trinkets of varying shapes and sizes that Mingyu won for you, and the only thing you won him was a small, round plushie keychain of a black cat with beady eyes. It’s barely anything compared to what Mingyu got you, but he hasn’t been able to let go of the tiny cat ever since.

“Sorry I couldn’t get you more,” You say sheepishly when the two of you sit down on a bench and you catch him playing with the keychain. “I’m not the best at carnival games.”

“This one’s more than enough,” Mingyu smiles softly, squishing the tiny cat with one palm. “It kinda reminds me of you.”

“Yah, watch your words or I’ll take that back,” You say in a warning tone that holds no real threat. 

“Please don’t, I think I’m attached to her already,” Mingyu pouts as he cradles the cat to his chest. “Did you have fun today?”

“I did,” You nod. “You didn’t have to do this much for a fake date, you know?”

“Just giving you the full Kim Mingyu Boyfriend Experience,” Mingyu jokes before pulling out his phone. “Now, which should I post? We’re doing a hard launch today, so you should be in the picture this time.”

Pop off, Mr. Publicist. 

It takes you a while to pick this one, scrolling through Mingyu’s photos in search of a picture where you actually look okay. By the end of your long search, you choose a picture where you’re holding onto the first thing Mingyu won you: a large Golden Retriever plushie that was practically half your size. There’s a smile on your face as you lean your head against the plushie, arms encircling it in a tight hug.

You looked happy.

“Nice pick,” Mingyu nods with a smile. “I should turn this into my lockscreen.”

You don’t know if he’s joking or dead serious.

[min9yu_k] Your smile’s the greatest prize

Mingyu likes you.

It’s something he admits to himself after the first date where he found himself walking back to his unit with a pep in his step and a stupid smile on his face. It’s a bad idea, given the entire situation, but it’s not like he can control it.

Mingyu likes to think that it’s inevitable, that he could run as fast and as far as he likes, but the feeling would always catch up and sink its claws into his heart. He was already attracted to you from day one, and getting to know you, spending time with you, and going on dates that feel a little too real with you was doing things to his head and his heart, and it has him crashing onto his bed with a grin and a lovesick sigh.

This is not good.

Is he going to stop? Nope.

What Kim Mingyu wants, Kim Mingyu gets, and you have, unfortunately, become a need, so the stakes are even higher now. He can’t say it’s love, but he thinks this is the closest he’ll get to it, and he’d be an idiot to let it go when the universe was handing it to him on a silver platter. 

Maybe if he wooed you hard enough, you’d forget that this was all fake, and this false relationship would start blurring into something real. Then he’d be Kim Mingyu, your real boyfriend instead of Kim Mingyu, your next-door neighbor who kind of blackmailed you into making him your fake boyfriend.

Questionable beginnings, but he doesn’t mind as long as it leads him to you.

Now, what should he do for your next date…

[Mingyu]: sorry for messaging so late but I need your help again

[Mingyu]: did Y/N mention any other activities she’s been wanting to do?

Mingyu waits, and he hopes that he gets a reply soon or else he’s going to drive himself crazy trying to think of something you’d enjoy.

[Bestie Boo]: Hyung, didn’t you just get back from a date? 

[Bestie Boo]: You’re hopeless ㅋㅋㅋ

[Bestie Boo]: Try hiking !! She always goes when the weather gets colder

[Mingyu]: thank you so much

[Mingyu]: I owe you another one

[Bestie Boo]: Just keep her happy 

[Bestie Boo]: But you can give me one of those Dior backpacks

[Bestie Boo]: If you really insist ㅋㅋㅋ

Mingyu was going to send Boo Seungkwan the entire store if he wanted it.

Without missing a beat, Mingyu switches to his laptop and starts searching for mountain trails he could take you to for next week’s date. However, he catches a glimpse of a little group picture hung on the wall, and he realizes he knows just the perfect place to take you.

Thankfully, after a week of only meeting you at Xu’s every morning, the day of the date arrives, and Mingyu finally gets a full day with you.

Score!

The sun has yet to rise when he knocks on your unit, and almost as if you were waiting for him, the door swings open to reveal you in a black cap (aw, you match with him), a white racerback (Mingyu’s going to have a hard time concentrating), and black flared leggings (you should’ve just shot him for a quicker death).

Mingyu forces himself to swallow the knot of incoherence in his throat before he musters his most handsome smile, “Ready to go?”

“Ready when you are, loverboy,” You say with a teasing smile as you sling your tiny backpack that was really just there for the aesthetic and your water bottle.

“Let’s go then.”

By the time you get to Cheonggyesan, the sun is already peeking in the horizon.

The air is cool against Mingyu’s cheeks, crisp and fresh with a hint of your perfume wafting in the air as you walk beside him, hand warming his.

“Do you like hiking?” You ask him as the two of you start the empty trail, leaves crunching under the weight of your soles as you ascend the mountain.

“It’s fun,” Mingyu replies, careful to slow his pace to match yours. “My friends and I go here a lot, actually. We hike when everyone’s free then we eat baeksuk after.”

Mingyu sees the way you swallow at that, and he grins.

You’re an open book.

“That sounds good,” You comment.

“We can go eat baeksuk after, then,” Mingyu replies. “Something to look forward to.”

Mingyu almost laughs at how your pace suddenly picks up speed. However, he’s quick to slow you down for two reasons: safety and self-serving desires.

“Hey, be careful,” He says, grabbing onto you firmly when you almost trip. That’s safety. “We’ll get there, don’t worry.”

He keeps his pace intentionally slow, if only to spend more time with you away from the crowds and the city’s noise. That’s self-serving desire.

Can anyone blame Mingyu for wanting to keep you all to himself? His vacation was ending soon, after all. Two more weeks and he’d see less of you, so he was going to take every chance to be with you until you got sick of his face.

When the two of you reach Maebong Peak, Mingyu’s eyes disregard the view, instead they turn quickly to you.

Your lips are parted, a soft smile tugging on your lips as you stare at the skyline with a wide-eyed gaze. You’re scanning through the greens and the blues like you’re looking at a painting, awe and adoration at all of creation painted all over your face as you pause and commit all of it to memory.

“Gyu, it’s so beautiful here!” You exclaim with a smile as you drag him closer to the edge.

Mingyu doesn’t know when you started calling him that fond nickname, but he hopes you don’t stop anytime soon. It’s like a shot of adrenaline every time he hears it, leaving him buzzing and reeling as his poor heart gets overworked.

When you turn to him, his heart stops.

Mingyu’s breath hitches, and it feels like he just died and went to heaven. Mingyu hasn’t been there, hasn’t seen, heard, or walked through whatever paradise lied waiting on the other side—

But he thinks your smile’s the closest thing to it on this earth.

“Thank you,” You breathe it out softly.

And Mingyu can only nod with a smile.

Because what was there to say? What words would ever encapsulate the feeling fluttering in his chest? What words would ever do the entirety of your being any justice? Mingyu feels like a believer desperately searching for the right words to write the scripture of you, fearing that no mortal tongue could ever fully encapsulate your truth—You are beyond words, Mingyu thinks.

Mingyu’s little poet who loved words so much that she turned it into her life… And yet none of them could ever hold a candle to her light.

Fuck, you were starting to rub off on him.

After a while of staring at the view and idle conversation, you and Mingyu quickly make your descent before driving to the restaurant to get baeksuk.

When you make it to the restaurant and settle down, you’re quick to grill Mingyu.

“How many relationships have you had?” You ask all of a sudden, and Mingyu’s gaze quickly snaps to you.

“The serious ones or..?” Mingyu trails off, trying to recount all his entanglements. “Why?”

“I’m gathering material for my poems,” You shrug. “The serious ones. The ones you actually considered a girlfriend.”

“Three,” Mingyu answers, and when you look confused, he’s not sure if he’s going to be offended or flattered. “The rest were… Undefined.”

“Yikes,” You wince. “How did you know that you wanted to make it official with the three?”

“It just felt right,” Mingyu says plainly, but there’s no other way to say it, really. “Convenient is the better word.”

“Damn, did you even love any of them?” You stare at him, slightly judgmental, but Mingyu thinks it’s warranted. It did sound a little insensitive on his end, but it’s something.

“I told you, it was only something close,” Mingyu replies. He knows how much of an asshole he sounds, but it was better than being dishonest. “But I did care about them. We just… I went into those relationships knowing that they wouldn’t last.”

There’s a baffled look on your face as you speak, “What was the point then?”

Mingyu smiles at that. So you were the long-term kind of gal, huh? Despite your jaded perspective and that air of indifference to romance, you seemed to have the values of a hopeless romantic.

“Like I said, it felt right, convenient,” Mingyu says, watching as one of the workers in the restaurant sets the food down on your table. He thanks her before he continues speaking, “It either helped with my image or helped me pass the time.”

“Plus, we understood each other,” Mingyu continues. “The unpredictable work hours, the fans, the distance… It’s difficult to explain that to someone who doesn’t live through it.”

“Must be tough,” You comment, but like a journalist attempting to uncover a major case, you don’t even give him time to breathe before asking another question. “Have you ever fallen in love?”

Mingyu freezes, but despite this, his answer slips out easily.

“I think so,” Mingyu says, eyes locked on the way you send him a questioning gaze. “Something close to it.”

“You think?” You tease. “Well, what did that feel like?”

“Which one?” Mingyu asks.

“The falling in love but not really,” You supply. “The ‘something close to it’. What did that feel like?”

Mingyu’s bombarded by images of the morning sun, the city in the horizon. Greens, blues, and gold blur into the background as the pink of a pair of lips tugging into a smile comes into focus. He remembers the breeze brushing past the warmth on his cheeks and the cold nipping at the heat of his ear. He remembers that bright smile, and how his breath hitched—it felt like dying. Like dying without the dread. Like dying but hurtling straight into rebirth.

Like dying into heaven’s gates.

And Mingyu doesn’t know what that place is like but his body, mind, heart, and soul all work to convince him that he’s been there because he thinks it’s the only thing closest to the feeling of seeing that smile in that light.

“Like heaven,” Mingyu replies, damn near breathless like all the air had been stolen from him, and he doesn't miss the way you start snickering at the sheer cheesiness of his answer. “Hey, I’m serious.”

Mingyu pouts, but it only adds to your amusement, and he wonders what other words he should string together to make you laugh harder.

“I’m sorry, but you’re saying it like you’ve been there” You tease with a playful smile dancing on your lips. “It’s the kind of answer only a hopeless romantic could give."

“I haven’t, and I don’t think anyone who has can tell you what it’s like,” Mingyu jokes. “But being around her makes me feel like I’ve been there, like I know what it’s like because if I don’t then what else can I even say to describe her? Am I making sense? I feel like I’m not.”

You’re staring at him, still amused but there’s something softer in your gaze. “Like déjà vu.”

“I said so many words but you compressed it into two, damn,” Mingyu laughs, impressed. All those words, all that ramble, and somehow you found the exact term. “Yeah, it’s déjà vu.”

“Like she’s your déjà vu of heaven,” You mumble thoughtlessly, but Mingyu picks it up anyway.

“Yeah, yo—she’s exactly that,” Mingyu catches himself before he fucks it all up.

“Wow, who would’ve thought loverboy had a poetic side to him?

You rush into ramble on imagery and symbolism, breathing life into your words and turning them into vivid pictures in Mingyu’s head. He doesn’t know how long he sits there, listening, nodding, and desperately trying to ease his racing heart

Maybe the feeling in his chest isn’t something close to love.

Maybe it is love.