Chapter Text
Mark, it’s Mom. It’s about Hal-aboeji. I didn’t want to have to say it over a voicemail, but you never answer my calls anymore. I honestly don’t know what I expected this time… Anyway, I’m not going to beat around the bush. Hal-aboeji, your grandfather, is going to die soon; we got the test results back. He only has a few months left. We all knew it was coming but… ah, it’s really too bad.
Look, another reason why I called though, is that your Uncle says Hal-aboeji is going to be updating the will after his New Year’s ball, Mark.
Don’t you see? This is your chance to get back on it! You know how important this is to me, to your future. That money would allow me to retire and you… well, allow you to do whatever it is you want.
Honestly, I wouldn’t even have bothered because I know you hate us—hate your poor mother—but, well, you know how your hyung's business is going… If only that old man had died last year when Johnny’s business was soaring! The fucking timing…
Look—Mark, please consider coming to the New Year’s party. I hear it’s going to be spectacular, you’ll have fun! You know the old man used to have a soft spot for you. If you just kiss up to him for now maybe he will forgive you. Me and your Aunt and Uncle are busy, so only your cousins will all be going. They’re all trying to get on his good side as well! So just come, please. And don’t talk about your band or group or whatever—Hal-aboeji never understood all that bullshit anyway. Talk about how you’ve re-enrolled in university! Even if it isn’t an Ivy League like your cousin, Jisung, I’m sure he’ll be happy. Okay?
Ah, it would be best if you were bringing someone home, Hal-aboeji loves that, but knowing you, it wouldn't be anyone good. So let's just focus on your academics.
After all, Hal-aboeji just misses you, dear. Just be… normal for this one weekend, and I will stop bothering you. I’ll even pay for your classes at this university, okay? You can redeem yourself, so don’t throw out this chance.
I just want to be able to be proud of you.
Oh! it’s beeping. Okay well—
The voicemail cut out and Mark chewed on the inside of his cheek, knee bouncing. He’d listened to it too many times to count in the last week, almost had it memorized at this point, and yet he still hadn’t responded. The whole voice message was just so fucking unbelievable. Mark couldn’t believe that his mom didn’t realize how she sounded. Her father was dying and yet all she was worried about was the will. It was always the fucking will .
It was about the will, about securing a spot on it, when Mark had to go to the boarding school grandpa wanted, the university he wanted, and even date the woman grandpa wanted! So when Mark had finally been done living a life hand-picked for him and dropped out of Stanford, as punishment, he’d been taken out of the sacred will . Grandpa had essentially disowned him, and thus he became the disappointment of the whole family—no one was paying his bills anymore either.
Honestly, though, Mark had been happier. He’d moved to Seattle, gotten his first real job, and started a band like he’d always wanted to with his best friends, and it fucking rocked. Jeno, Renjun, Jaemin and Yangyang made great roommates and bandmates. They lived on their own schedule. Plus, now that Mark didn’t have someone breathing down his neck, he’d even gotten that tattoo he’d always wanted—much to his mother’s horror.
He was finally allowed to find out who he really wanted to be, who he currently was—his mom also wasn’t very happy when all this led to him coming out as gay, but he really didn’t care. He’d decided to live for himself and not for his grandfather's will, and he loved it.
Well… had loved it.
Maybe that’s why Mark couldn’t stop listening to the voicemail.
Four years of fucking around and working his ass off and yet… He didn’t have anything to show for it. He couldn’t save any of the money he made since it all went to rent, food, and the band—a band which, despite his high hopes and their passion, had never gotten bigger than gigs at bars and likely never would get anywhere at all. It just wasn’t fun anymore.
It was as if he’d been spinning his wheels all along when he thought he was living the fast life. As soon as he stepped out of the nest he found out the American dream was a joke, and it fucking sucked. He was broke and hopeless, and here was his mom with a tempting ass olive branch.
As much as he’d hated it, money really did open all doors, and Mark was sick of having them slammed in his face. All he had to do was dye his hair black again, buy some button-ups, and kiss ass. It wasn’t a bad deal for financial stability and a light at the end of this dark ass tunnel.
His mom was right as well. That money—even if it was going to get split between him, his brother and three cousins—would be more than enough to live a cushy life. See, it was a skip-generational fund, so none of it would be going directly to their parents (though they would be expected to share). Mark never understood why his grandfather was doing it that way, but it sure made his life harder since it was his fault if his parents didn’t get anything.
It was a lot of money.
“So sue me, I’m tempted, okay?” Mark ended his entire recount of his dilemma to Jeno with that, throwing his hands up with a sigh.
“Damn,” Jeno said with a whistle when it was clear Mark was finally done ranting. Guitar sitting in his lap and kicked back in Mark’s desk chair, Jeno strummed the strings as he thought. “I mean, dude, if you're not happy anymore, I think you should do it.”
Mark groaned, flopping back onto his bed and staring up at the Twice poster he had taped to the bottom of Jenos top bunk. “You’re supposed to talk me out of it, asshole! You can’t just encourage me to go back when I’ve literally told you for years how much I hate my fucking family. Plus, I’d have to miss our New Year’s gig! Renjun worked so fucking hard to get that gig for us.”
Jeno plucked out a thoughtless tune on Marks old wooden guitar, lips pursed. He stopped strumming after a moment and leveled Mark with a look. “Dude, you just said you feel like you're spinning your wheels. Like, I’ve noticed you’ve been super restless and just kinda unhappy lately. It’s not hard to tell—you play way too much Mitski when you're in your feels and shit.”
“Shut up, she’s my comfort artist.”
Jeno sighed and decided not to press it. “Isn't this why you went back to university, though? Cause you felt like you’re stuck? University of Washington isn’t cheap. You took out a loan to go there, Mark. That’s some serious shit that you're gonna need to pay back. I don’t care about the New Year’s gig—it’s just a gig. I care about you and your mental health. I love you and just wanna see you happy.”
“Thanks bro, I love you too.”
“Of course dude. Look, if you're feeling like shit and the bills are piling up, I don’t think kissing your grandpa's ass for money makes you a bad person or whatever. It makes you a guy with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to escape this shit—one the rest of us don't have, may I add.
“Even if you go, you might still not make it into his will, but if you don’t go, you definitely won't. Ya know, ‘ you’ll miss all the shots you don't shoot ’ and all that shit. I mean, look at it like this, if you don’t go, are you going to think about it for the rest of your life? Are you going to regret not trying?”
Mark put an arm over his eyes, deflating a little as Jeno’s words washed over him.
“Plus, don’t you want to see your grandfather? No offense, but you shit on your mom for only talking about the will, but that’s all you’ve talked about this whole time as well. He’s still your grandpa, dude. Didn’t you live with him during your childhood as well? You should at least see him before he dies. Even if you hate him.”
Mark rolled onto his side, twirling the sheets between his fingers. “I don’t hate him, just strongly resent—there’s a difference. Hell, I used to worship that man when I was a kid.” He thought about his grandfather, wrapped in his traditional Hanbok and sitting straight and proud, even in his wheelchair. He’d always been so serious, but every now and then his sharp features cracked for just a moment to reveal the gentle curve of his smile. Mark used to live for those moments. “Fuck, you’re right… I really should see him. I would regret it if I didn’t.”
“Exactly.”
Mark let out a long withering sigh before sitting up suddenly. “And I want his fucking money, too. He owes me that much for the shit he put me through.”
Jeno smiled at him and leaned over to ruffle Mark’s blue hair, “now that’s what I’m talking about! Let’s get you that bread, Mark.”
“Yeah, fuck yeah!” Mark was suddenly jittery with excitement. “Okay, okay, but if I’m going to do this… I’m going to do it right. I’m going to be perfect .”
~•❧•~
“Nervous?” Renjun asked, peering across the table over the lid of his coffee cup.
Mark slipped a finger under his collar and pulled on it, grimacing. “I’m just not used to formal clothes. It’s been so long. I feel like this shirt is too tight as well…” He looked down at the white button-up, where it clung to his figure and hugged his biceps.
“Nope, trust me it’s the perfect size,” Renjun reassured, eyes flicking over him. “You just don’t wear form fitting shit. It’s a shame—you have a nice body. I mean, you almost look hot now.”
Mark snorted.
“Lean over,” Renjun commanded, making grabby hands. Mark obliged and Renjun swiftly unbuttoned the top few buttons of Mark’s shirt and fixed the collar. “There, now you don’t look like you're going to your eighth grade picture day.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled, smoothing out the shirt and taking a sip of his overly sugary coffee. Renjun rested his chin on his palm, inspecting Mark with a pinched brow.
He raised an eyebrow at his friend. “What?”
Renjun shrugged. “I’m totally not used to you actually looking rich. Like you really do know how to clean up well. Compared to yesterday…” He whistled under his breath. “Let just say, it’s impressive what a haircut and a new wardrobe can do for a man.”
“Thanks?” He wasn’t sure if that was a compliment. Reminded of his hair, though, he opened his phone and inspected it through the camera, making sure it was still slicked back. It was so weird seeing it black again, but Mark had to agree, he did look chic. Like those chaebol guys in K-dramas with daddy issues. Ew.
Closing his camera, he sighed. It was only for a little while.
“Just make sure not to say anything stupid, okay? This guy only does this if you're going to fork up, so don't act poor,” Renjun warned.
Mark rolled his eyes. “Did you forget that I went to a private boarding school and lived on an estate until I was fourteen? I know how to act rich.”
“Mm-hm, sure. I’ve only ever seen you act dumb , so sorry for doubting you.”
Mark clicked his tongue but decided to let the jab slide. Now was not the time to squabble when this man could walk in at any moment. He needed to make a good impression. Mark wasn’t fucking around when he’d decided he was going to do this whole thing right. He was getting back into that damn will, even if it meant faking his engagement… which is exactly what he was doing.
Renjun, a man of many mysteries that Mark had long ago stopped questioning, said he knew someone who knew a guy that did exactly that. This man was hot, single, Korean, and a Significant Other-for-hire. It was this man's job to act like he was dating people, and Renjun said he was good at it as well, a “king of improvisation and oscar-worthy performances.”
Or so Renjun said—and Renjun said a lot of things.
Mark was curious to see if this man lived up to all the hype, because he really needed him to. If Mark couldn’t find someone good by Thursday, he wasn’t taking anyone. It wasn’t worth risking it, but it would really kill his chances at getting into the will if he didn’t bring anyone…
It wasn’t just about proving he was “doing better now” by going to university. He also had to prove he was committing to the future and was going to offer something to the lineage. Not that he could literally do that, being gay and all, but it was the symbolism of getting engaged that mattered—respectable inheritance-deserving grandson shit.
Luckily, Grandpa wasn’t homophobic, so him being (fake) engaged to a man wasn’t going to kill his chances. He’d already come out so he couldn’t bring a woman anyway. Plus, the other gay cousin, Jaehyun, was easily Grandpa’s favorite.
Mark had a shot.
But this fiancé of Mark’s still needed to be the “perfect” example of what his family liked—rich, hot, and Asian—in order for him to look like he was making good decisions and legitimate commitments. Oddly, him being almost completely cut off from his family for the past four years was working in his favor here. He could just make up how long they’d been dating and everything. He’d already planned it all out.
Now, he just needed his perfect co-star.
The cafe’s bell rang.
“Oh shit, that’s him. Mark, act rich, quick,” Renjun hissed under his breath, getting to his feet. As planned, Renjun went to go greet the guy and bring him to Mark.
Steeling himself, Mark didn’t turn to the man right away, instead sitting straighter and adjusting the cuffs of his shirt nonchalantly. He sipped his coffee and tried not to spit it out when he finally laid eyes on the man.
Relaxed in their soft shape but coming to a deadly point in his black irises—it was the eyes that Mark noticed first, the man lowering his tinted sunglasses to look at Mark down the straight arrow of his nose. The curves of his cupid's bow framed plush lips and waves of voluminous brown hair settled on his tan skin like silk curtains. His features were full of wonderful slopes and a youthful roundness that all converged to form the handsome face of the vixen before him.
Dressed in a white tee with an artful yellow striped blazer and fitted ripped jeans, he oozed the confidence of a man who knew he looked good.
He was like a superstar.
“Donghyuk, this is Mark Lee,” Renjun said, snapping Mark out of his daze. Mark swiftly got to his feet, coming up to eye level with the man. He was just as intimidating from this angle. “Mark, this is Donghyuk.”
Donghyuk raised a shapely eyebrow and Mark swallowed.
“Nice to meet you.” Mark cleared his throat, sticking out a hand.
Donghyuk’s eyes slowly fell to the hand, seeming to think about it before grabbing his hand with a strong grip—a handshake Hal-aboeji would like, Mark noted.
“You as well,” is all Donghyuk said. His voice was a higher pitch than Mark expected, but it was nice.
Mark was thankful when Donghyuk let go of his hand, worried it was getting sweaty. It was Mark who was interviewing him , he tried to remind himself. He didn’t need to be nervous, even if this Donghyuk guy was way out of his league.
Where did Renjun find this guy?
Renjun, playing his part, pulled out the chair across from Mark for Donghyuk to sit in. Sliding off his sunglasses and taking his time to fold them before placing them on the table, Donghyuk stared at him. “So you need a professional, I hear?”
Mark cleared his throat again, trying to get into a rich-guy headspace. “Yes. Renjun probably told you as much, but I need someone convincing, since my family is extremely perceptive.”
The corner of Donghyuk’s mouth cocked upward and he leaned back in his seat. “Well if you want someone who will sell it, you have the right man. I’ve never gotten caught before… but I hope you know I come with a price.”
Mark glanced at Renjun, who’d helped him work out how he should do this, before nodding. “I’m aware. I’m trying to get into my grandfather's will by bringing you, so I want to propose a deal.”
Donghyuk crossed his long legs and stared right at Mark, gesturing for him to continue.
Mark held out his hand and Renjun put a little note pad in it, flipped open to a page with a number already written on it. Donghyuk didn’t move, eyes only flicking to it briefly when Mark slid it to him. He couldn’t read the man's face at all, his features schooled into perfect neutrality.
“That’s it?”
Mark’s heart sank, but he bit back a frown and pointed his finger at the number—a number which could easily bankrupt him at the moment. “This is how much I’ll give you regardless of whether I get into the will or not. I’ll need to keep up the act for probably a month or two after New Year’s—until my grandpa passes—but posting pictures together on social media should be more than enough to convince them, so I really only need your full dedication for one weekend.”
Donghyuk raised a displeased eyebrow.
Mark breathed in deeply through his nose, heart starting to beat against his chest when he snatched the notepad back and reached for a pen. He tried not to shake as he added, not one, but two zeros to the number. He stared at it for a moment before he clicked his pen closed and slid the notepad back.
“ This is how much I’ll pay you if I do get into the will.”
Finally, a light seemed to glint in the man's eyes and he reached out to drag the notepad a little closer. Mark knew it was kind of a gamble, since the baseline pay, while more than Mark even had in his bank account, wasn’t exactly impressive. So all his hope really hinged on this Donghyuk guy being somewhat of a cocky high roller, willing to take a big risk for a big reward—a result almost completely based on his own performance. If he accepted, Mark could rest assured this guy was confident in his skills and his own resultant success.
After an agonizing second of Donghyuk doing nothing at all, a Cheshire grin broke out over his face and he leaned forward. “Tell me everything I need to know about your family then, Mr. Lee.”