Chapter Text
When Jinyoung’s watch reads seven minutes past the hour, Jaebeom finally slumps into the chair across from him. His hair is dishevelled enough and there is a fatigue-ridden air around him that gives Jinyoung the indication that his tardiness is from oversleeping.
“You’re late.”
Jaebeom looks around like a madman for a clock before finally squinting at the one inside the restaurant, just barely visible from their table on the patio.
“Seven minutes!” he exclaims in protest. “You need to lighten up.”
Jinyoung lets out a humph before taking another sip of his espresso, which helps dissolve some of his annoyance. This café has the best espresso in the city and the shop itself is small enough to pass under the radar of most tourists, so it is rather empty most hours. It also has a beautiful view of the water, which helped it quickly become his and Jaebeom’s favourite spot for business meetings. Offices weren’t either of their styles—not that they couldn’t afford one anyway.
“And you,” Jinyoung says as he places the small espresso cup back onto its saucer, which is as pristine as it was when the server delivered the drink seven and a half minutes ago, “need to wake up when your alarm rings, for once. Your coffee is probably cold.”
“Good thing I like iced coffee,” Jaebeom replies with no small amount of sass, though the impact is a little dampened by the way his face contorts at the taste of the probably lukewarm coffee. It’s hard for Jinyoung not to smirk, but he tries for the sake of his friend’s pride. “Anyway, I don’t have much time, I have a meeting with another client in half an hour.”
Jinyoung quirks a brow. “You have other clients?”
“Fuck off, Jinyoung,” Jaebeom whines, rolling his eyes, then calls over the nearest server to ask her for a fresh cup of coffee. “So, about this job.”
Right, the job. The reason they’re meeting today, and the reason for Jinyoung’s less than pleasant mood.
“I don’t like it, Jaebeom.”
“You don’t even know what it is.”
“That’s the problem.”
Jaebeom sighs as he usually does, with his entire body, and it makes him appear far older than he actually is. If Jinyoung hadn’t known him for the past ten years, he probably would’ve thought Jaebeom was lying about being only a few months older than him.
“They said once you sign the contract,” Jaebeom says, carefully calm, “they’ll tell you everything you need to know.”
“Yeah, once I’ve already signed my life away.”
“It’s just for confidentiality purposes,” Jaebeom replies casually, though there is an urgent insistence in his face and voice that peaks at the edges of Jinyoung’s curiosity, “you know how entertainment companies can be.”
“I do, because I’ve been in this business for years now,” Jinyoung says with a nod, “which means I no longer have to take sketchy gigs that don’t give me any information.”
There is a ting as Jaebeom rather haphazardly places his coffee back on the saucer, some of it spilling down the sides and staining the white porcelain.
“We have some information,” Jaebeom counters, “it’s a three-month contract and it pays more than any other job I’ve gotten you.”
Funny how Jaebeom failed to mention the compensation before this moment. “How much more?”
Jaebeom presses his lips into a tight line. “It’s more than you usually make in a year.”
“For a three-month contract?”
His friend nods, his brows raised to emphasize the point.
Shit. That amount of money for three months is more than tempting. It’s almost enough for Jinyoung to disregard the fact that he’d be going into this completely blind. No wonder Jaebeom wants him to do this so bad, the commission as his agent is significant enough for him to have a vested interest.
But being in this industry for years has given Jinyoung a sort of sixth sense, and right now it is tingling madly. “I don’t know.” He rubs a hand along his jaw. “What if it’s illegal?”
“They assured me it wasn’t.”
Jinyoung pauses. “What if it’s porn?”
“Jesus, Jinyoung.” Jaebeom lets out an exasperated sigh. “That was one time and I apologized.”
The incident was long enough ago that Jinyoung is no longer mad about Jaebeom’s very stupid mistake that led to Jinyoung almost starring in a porno, but it’s always fun to rile the man up. Jinyoung grins wickedly, the answering annoyance all over Jaebeom’s face.
“Fuck, fine,” Jaebeom continues when Jinyoung doesn’t reply, and Jinyoung actually thinks he might be letting it go, until the man adds, “I didn’t want to have to pull this card, but I guess I have to. Jinyoung, you have to take this job. You owe me.”
“I owe you?”
Jaebeom looks a little offended that Jinyoung doesn’t seem to know what he’s talking about. “Uh, yeah? Remember when you were a struggling actor fresh out of college and needed help? Who gave you money for acting classes, headshots, transportation, rent—”
“Okay, okay, I get it,” Jinyoung grumbles. He doesn’t love being reminded of how rough it was starting out his career. Even now, things are a lot better since Jinyoung has starred in a few television shows and has had some minor roles in a couple movies. It’s enough that he’s able to keep up his lifestyle, but he still hasn’t been able to pay Jaebeom back for everything he lent him. “So, what, after this job, we’re even?”
Without hesitation, Jaebeom nods.
Jinyoung sighs and rubs his chin. “Fine,” he says before he can change his mind, “I’ll do it.”
Jaebeom’s eyes widen and he finally seems to let out all the excitement he’s been holding onto for the past few minutes.
“Yes, fuck, thank you! Jinyoung, you’re the best.”
He stands and shakes Jinyoung’s hand profusely, a rather weird display considering Jinyoung doesn’t remember any other time Jaebeom has shaken his hand or been this excited about anything. Now that he’s agreed to the job, Jinyoung gets a prickly feeling at the back of his neck that he doesn’t quite like, but Jaebeom’s gone before he can say anything else.
This better not bite me in the ass, Jinyoung thinks as he finishes off the last of his espresso, the drink barely able to wash down the acidic taste that’s taken over his mouth.
The click of Jinyoung’s fake leather shoes echoes off the shiny hardwood floor as he walks across the large main lobby. He shouldn’t be surprised by the expensive looking décor and furniture, entertainment companies usually spare no expense on silly things like that, but it still serves to make Jinyoung feel small in his cheap dress shirt and slacks.
An unreasonably attractive receptionist with the tiniest Bluetooth headset Jinyoung has ever seen directs him to the third floor of the building, where Jinyoung will meet his new employer. When the elevators doors open to the third floor, which is labeled “Public Relations and Marketing”, Jinyoung is met with nothing but silence. The large office space before him is filled with modern styled desks, the people occupying them all equally attractive as the receptionist downstairs and working with quiet diligence. It’s not an unhappy or tense silence, though, just a calm one. As if someone could speak but prefers not to for the sake of maintaining the tranquility. None of them look his way as he steps out of the elevator and there are no signs to direct him, not that he would know what signs to follow anyway, so Jinyoung walks up to the nearest desk.
“Sorry to bother you, I’m looking for—” Jinyoung checks his phone one more time for the name, “Choi Youngjae?”
“Mr. Choi is waiting for you,” the woman says with a smile and a nod, then points with her left hand to the corridor on the far side of the main room while her right hand continues to type. The coordination with which she does it almost looks alien.
Jinyoung thanks her and walks down the corridor, passing by several offices marked with names he doesn’t recognize, until he reaches the door at the very end of the hall. The gold name plate simply says “CYJ” in beautiful script. Jinyoung opens the door, a somewhat ominous feeling coming over him, and walks inside.
The office is sparsely furnished and minimally decorated. Bright light fills the space from the floor-to-ceiling windows and lends an almost heavenly appearance to the room. Somehow, it makes Jinyoung feel both cold and warm at the same time.
“Park Jinyoung, so glad you could make it,” a voice says from the chair on the other side of the office, which is currently facing the away from Jinyoung. Then it turns, slowly, to reveal an incredibly handsome man in a neatly cut pinstripe suit and round wire-frame glasses.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Choi,” Jinyoung says, extending his hand to the man, who remains seated.
“Likewise,” Youngjae says politely as he shakes Jinyoung’s hand, his grip far firmer than Jinyoung expected, and gestures for Jinyoung to sit. “I’m glad you made it, your agent said you were particularly hesitant about taking our offer.”
Jinyoung finds that strange, Jaebeom doesn’t usually disclose Jinyoung’s position on his upcoming jobs to his new employers. Youngjae must see the confusion on Jinyoung’s face, because he continues.
“You’re wondering why he told me?”
“He doesn’t usually speak so freely on my behalf,” Jinyoung admits, choosing his words carefully.
“I’m sure he didn’t mean to betray your confidence,” Youngjae says with a disinterested wave of his hand, chuckling to himself before adding, “He was a little flustered when we spoke.”
Jinyoung quirks a brow. In all their years as friends, Jinyoung has only ever seen Jaebeom act anything that would be considered “flustered” when he has a crush and gets too in his head to act normal. Unable to delve into it now, Jinyoung tucks it away for later.
“Anyway, I’m glad you changed your mind. You are not the first actor who has signed a contract like this with us and you won’t be the last, so there’s no reason to worry,” Youngjae says, his tone far from comforting. “I’ll tell you everything once you’ve signed the contract and the NDA.” He gestures to the manila folder sitting on his desk in front of him.
A small, uncertain silence lands over the room. Jinyoung looks at the folder but doesn’t reach for it. He’s still a little skeptical about all of this.
The doubt on Jinyoung’s face must be rather obvious, because Youngjae speaks again, fixing the cufflink on his right sleeve as he does. “Do you know why we approached you for this job?”
Jinyoung opens his mouth to reply until he realizes he doesn’t know the answer. Jaebeom never said why.
“We like to use younger, less experienced actors for this kind of thing, ones who are recognizable but generally live outside the public eye,” Youngjae explains, clasping his hands on his knee. “Would you say that’s an accurate description of yourself?”
Accurate enough that it almost sounds harsh coming from Youngjae’s curt way of speaking. Jinyoung nods.
“I thought so.” Youngjae grins. “You are charismatic but won’t pull focus, handsome but not breathtaking, aloof but still approachable—all qualities that make you an adequate candidate for the job.”
Hearing Youngjae describe him like that so tactlessly is rather jarring. Luckily Jinyoung is used to casting directors being terse and often objectifying, so he doesn’t balk at it too much.
“I assure you that you will not be asked to do anything illegal or untoward,” Youngjae continues. “In the past, our actors have enjoyed themselves throughout their contracts and have gone on to star in movies and television series because of the popularity we gave them.”
Jinyoung sighs. He’s still no closer to understanding what they’re asking of him, but something about Youngjae’s explanation makes it feel less suspicious.
“Is the compensation we’ve offered not to your liking?”
The tone of the question is almost threatening and Jinyoung narrows his eyes.
“No, it’s fine, I just—”
“Wonderful.” Youngjae smiles again, but it’s more severe than before, and slides the folder toward Jinyoung. “Whenever you’re ready, then.”
The contract is filled with so much legal jargon that Jinyoung wishes he’d gone to law school like his parents wanted. He thought the contract would help shed some light on the details of the job, but it’s too vague to give him anything substantial. Typical.
The NDA is straightforward enough, and Jinyoung finds himself more willing to sign it than he expected. Something about this whole thing gives him the feeling that he won’t want to talk about it with anyone, so the NDA is almost comforting, in a strange way. With Jaebeom’s voice in his mind insisting they will be even, and the idea of this much money in his bank account, Jinyoung signs the forms.
When he looks up again, Youngjae is grinning cheerfully. “Fantastic,” he says, taking the signed contract and fitting it into a drawer packed with file folders of what Jinyoung can only assume are contracts just like it.
“So,” Youngjae continues as he slides the drawer shut, “the agreement you have entered into is what we like to call a ‘pseudo romance agreement’. It will be between you and one of our artists in order to maintain his image and help avoid scandals. Is that clear to you?”
“Pseudo romance agreement,” Jinyoung repeats to himself, then blinks as the reality dawns on him. “You mean, like a fake relationship?”
“Precisely,” Youngjae says with a nod, “you will act as the artist’s boyfriend—partner, lover, whatever you want to call it—for the term of the contract. You will make appearances together at events, interviews, things like that, and do whatever else the company requires of you.”
The idea of it is completely absurd and Youngjae’s casual tone isn’t helping. “Is this a joke?”
Youngjae huffs a laugh. “You think I’d make you sign an NDA if this was a joke?”
“People really do this?” Jinyoung asks incredulously. “I mean, a ‘pseudo romance agreement’, this is like, a thing?”
Youngjae shrugs. “I suspect it’s more common than we all would think, but it’s not like anyone talks about it.” He gestures to the contract in the drawer. “Given all the red tape surrounding things like this.”
Rightfully so, Jinyoung thinks. He doubts the public would be too excited about hearing that their favourite celebrity couples are lying about being in love.
“You said I’m not the first,” Jinyoung says when he remembers Youngjae’s earlier comment, “so you’ve done these agreements before? With all your artists?”
“No, only one.”
“Why is that?”
“Ah,” Youngjae tsks with a raised brow, “that’s not really any of your business, is it?”
“Sorry,” Jinyoung grumbles, feeling his cheeks heat slightly, “this is just really fucking insane.” He doesn’t even care that he’s being rude. He’s already signed the contract, and if they want to fire him now, he wouldn’t be mad in the slightest. “You guys are insane.”
“Perhaps.”
Youngjae doesn’t seem offended. I wonder how many times he’s had this exact conversation before, Jinyoung thinks to himself, remembering how many folders filled Youngjae’s desk drawer.
“Let me get this straight, you want me to play boyfriend to some celebrity for three months?” Jinyoung asks again, still not quite believing it. “That’s the job?”
“That’s it.” Youngjae grins again, but the simple way he says it gives Jinyoung the feeling that it might be the complete opposite.
Jinyoung rubs his face with his hands. This is stupid. And dishonest. And exactly what he should’ve expected from an industry like this. But fuck, it’s also so much money, and pretending to be in love with someone shouldn’t be too hard, right? Jinyoung is a good actor, he’s had romance roles in the past and, sure, it was always a little awkward at first, but he always made it work in the end. As long as it’s not someone completely insufferable, he can be professional enough to get through three months.
Which brings him to his next question.
“Who’s the artist?”
Four hours later, Jinyoung arrives at The Doghouse, a club downtown that his new fake boyfriend apparently owns. It’s also where Jinyoung will be able to meet him, since celebrities are stupid and don’t believe in traditional meetings in offices or coffee shops like normal people.
Youngjae had given him a name and an address, saying the club was a quaint place and would be a good spot for the two of them to get to know each other better. Then he very unsubtly kicking Jinyoung out of his office.
As soon as Jinyoung steps inside the club, Jinyoung knows Youngjae was fucking with him. With its high ceilings, dark blue and purple mood lighting, and loud music, the place is anything but quaint. It’s also packed to the brim with people, to the point that Jinyoung can’t believe it’s within fire code limits.
At least Youngjae gave him specific instructions to find the private booth upstairs, so he doesn’t have to wander around like an idiot. Looking up, Jinyoung can see the upstairs is more of a large balcony than a true second level, fitting along the perimeter of the building with no clear way to reach it. That key detail makes it seem particularly exclusive, which is what Jinyoung assumes the owner was going for.
To avoid the throng of partygoers dancing in the centre of the room, Jinyoung keeps close to the edges of the busy room, following Youngjae’s directions to enter the second level through a small stairwell at the back of the club. He spots the inconspicuous doorway at the far side of the main dancing area and weaves in between the high-top cocktail tables and small booths, where an alarming number of people have seemed to confuse the cushioned seating areas with bedrooms. Jinyoung continues on, avoiding looking at their sweaty, moaning bodies until he finally reaches the entrance to the upstairs level. He tells the stern-faced bouncer that Youngjae sent him and the man lets him through without hesitation. Jinyoung isn’t surprised that Youngjae’s name would hold so much sway, but it’s still a little impressive.
The entirety of the upper level is filled with white sheer curtains that drape down from the ceiling, lending an alluring aura to the space that makes Jinyoung wonder exactly what he’s in for tonight. The swaths of fabric part easily and fall gently at his sides as he follows the sounds of laughter and voices that now cut through the blare of the music as he gets closer to his destination.
When he moves aside the last curtain in front of him, Jinyoung sees he’s reached a booth with about a dozen people. There are far fewer people than he had expected, which reaffirms the exclusivity of the owner’s private section. The other clubbers are all clad in glitzy outfits that sparkle as the rotating lights on the walls above hit their clothes, Jinyoung’s own outfit feeling rather pale in comparison.
There is no sign of the man he’s here to meet and, for a moment, Jinyoung wonders if he’s come to the right spot. Perhaps there is another, even more secretive, even more private booth. He inspects the faces of the people around once more, none of whom have noticed him standing at the outskirts of it yet, but he doesn’t find the popstar he’s looking for.
“It’s creepy to stare like that, you know,” a voice says from behind him.
“Sorry, I was just looking for—” Jinyoung begins to explain as he turns to the person he assumes is the bouncer checking on him. Instead, he sees a handsome man with large, dark eyes, silver hair, and a wide grin. “—you, actually,” Jinyoung finishes, when he realizes he’s facing none other than Jackson Wang.
It’s a little jarring at first to be in the presence of a man who is so incredibly famous, far more than Jinyoung has ever dreamed of being. Jinyoung’s been in movies that starred some big names, but mostly only people who were popular on a national level. Jackson is one of those stars that everyone knows. Say his name in most any corner of the world and someone is bound to know who you’re talking about.
It had been a surprise when Youngjae said Jackson would be the person he’d be pretending to date for the next three months, but only because Jinyoung had never thought someone like Jackson would ever be involved in this kind of agreement. Especially considering that Jackson owns the company—Jinyoung did some quick research before arriving tonight—and he doubts even having a manager like Choi Youngjae would make Jackson do something he didn’t want to do. Which means it’s safe to say that Jackson is probably happy with these contracts. Hell, it might have even been his idea.
Despite his research to prepare—if he’s being honest, it was really just a four-minute skim of Jackson's Wikipedia page—now that he’s face-to-face with Jackson, Jinyoung finds himself a little lost. It’s no surprise that Jackson is attractive, Jinyoung has seen some of his music videos and pictures in magazines. But fuck. He did not expect the man to look this good in person. Even without the airbrushing and editing, he is absolutely stunning. In fact, he might look better this way.
Jinyoung has no idea how long he’s been staring, but Jackson doesn’t appear to mind. He seems to like it, actually, his smile widening as he watches Jinyoung stare, his face molding to the shape in a way that makes him look even more handsome than before.
“I don’t usually party with fans,” Jackson says finally, giving Jinyoung a once-over, “but you’re hot enough, maybe I’ll make an exception.” He brushes past Jinyoung toward the booth.
Shaking himself off, Jinyoung huffs a laugh at Jackson's brazenness but follows anyway, his feet moving of their own accord. “I’m, uh, not a fan, exactly.”
The cushions make a small squeak as Jackson slumps into the booth and he kicks his feet up on the low table in front of him, which is covered in all manner of pills and little bags of white powder. Jinyoung doesn’t need to ask to know what they are.
He turns back to Jackson, who is carding a hand through his light hair. His position shows off the tightness of his dark jeans, which seem almost stretched to their limits around his full thighs, and his rather revealing mesh tank top that does nothing to hide the muscular lines of his torso underneath. The outfit, paired with the long, fluffy blue coat draped over his shoulders and the multiple chains of varying lengths hanging off his neck make him appear like the epitome of what Jinyoung has always thought popstars were.
“That’s a rude thing to say, don’t you think?” Jackson says, gazing up at Jinyoung with a disappointed pout, his lower lip sticking out and looking particularly full.
“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that,” Jinyoung says with a chuckle as he tears his eyes away from Jackson's mouth, “I just meant I’m not here as a fan.”
“But you are one?” Jackson asks with no small amount of hopeful expectation.
It’s a little amusing that one of the biggest pop icons in the world is apparently concerned about the loyalty of one fan. Large egos are indeed fragile, Jinyoung reasons to himself. Not wanting to offend his new employer-slash-boyfriend, he nods.
Jackson's grin returns and now he pats the cushion beside him, as if the fact that Jinyoung is a fan now deems him worthy of sitting next to him.
“So, what’s your poison, uh. . . bro?” Jackson asks, adding the last part as he seems to realize he doesn’t know what else to call his guest.
“Jinyoung.”
Jackson looks at him with a furrowed brow. “I don’t know that drink, is it new?”
The genuine confusion in Jackson's face makes Jinyoung laugh suddenly. Jackson's brow relaxes immediately and he smiles, giggling as he realizes his misunderstanding.
“Sorry, that was my bad,” Jinyoung says through his lingering laughter, “I’ll take a whiskey sour.”
Still smiling, Jackson snaps his fingers to one of the servers waiting at the edges of the booth, who nods and hurries away. “I think ‘Jinyoung’ is a great name for a drink, actually.”
Jinyoung chuckles again and Jackson's face brightens even further, his eyes wild and pleased.
“I don’t think it would taste very good.”
“Oh, I disagree,” Jackson says, settling sideways on the cushioned seat with his elbow tucked under his head, his dazed eyes trailing down the line of Jinyoung’s body and then back up to his eyes, “I think it would be delicious.”
The wandering of Jackson's stare makes Jinyoung feels sorely underdressed in his simple black V-neck shirt and jeans, but he doesn’t shy away from the attention. Instead, he leans into it, meets Jackson's flirtatious grin with one of his own.
“What would it taste like?” he asks curiously, mirroring Jackson's pose of leaning sideways against the seat to face him.
“Something fruity, I think,” Jackson says playfully as he takes the two drinks from the returning server, “to make it really juicy.” He hands one of them to Jinyoung, his eyes quickly darting to Jinyoung’s hips as he says the last word.
Jinyoung raises a brow and takes the drink from him, bringing it to his lips before replying, “I like juicy.”
“So do I.”
There is a moment of silence as they regard each other, Jackson's eyes dark and wide as they stare at his own. Jinyoung is almost mesmerized by their depth and magnetism. He can’t seem to bring his eyes away from Jackson at all. No wonder the man is so popular.
Jackson breaks the silence first but doesn’t look away. “So, why are you here, Jinyoung?” he asks as he takes another sip of his drink. “If you’re not a fan, and you’re not trying very hard to sell me on this new drink of yours. . .”
Jinyoung smiles again, then glances around them to see how many people are within earshot. The music is loud enough and everyone else is talking amongst themselves that it’s unlikely anyone can hear them, but Jinyoung leans in a little closer to Jackson just to be safe. He chooses his words carefully. “I met with your manager today, he told me to come find you here.”
A flash of understanding crosses Jackson's face, along with something else Jinyoung can’t quite place.
“Ah, Youngjae sent you,” Jackson says with a grin as he leans forward in time with the movement of one of the passing spotlights, illuminating his hair an array of purple and blue, “you’re my new boyfriend, then.”
Despite how much Jinyoung doesn’t like the idea of it, something in the way Jackson says it makes it feel like less of a big deal. He finds himself relaxing, and he doesn’t think it’s just from the alcohol.
“Looks that way,” Jinyoung says with a nod. “I hope I’m up to your standards.”
“Oh yes, very much so,” Jackson says, his eyes lazily snaking along Jinyoung’s body again.
Something warm opens in Jinyoung’s chest at the compliment. “That’s good, it would’ve been a pretty shitty three months if I wasn’t.”
“It certainly would,” Jackson hums, leaning close enough that Jinyoung can smell the alcohol on his breath, “but I think this will be fun.”
“Me too.”
Jackson's lips are wet from the condensation on his glass and it makes them shine as the lights flash by. They are somehow plump even when stretched into that devilish smile and Jinyoung can’t help but stare again. It’s not his fault, they must have some sort of gravitational pull.
“So, I think a few of us are gonna head out, bring the party somewhere a little, um, quieter,” Jackson murmurs somewhat dazedly, his voice low but so close that Jinyoung has no problems hearing him. “You can join us, if you want.”
Jinyoung meets Jackson's gaze and finds his eyes heavy with intoxication, and the word sultry pops into Jinyoung’s mind immediately. He isn’t sure really what this invitation is for, but he has a feeling that it’s not exactly innocent in nature. Especially given what Youngjae said about this contract being in place for Jackson to maintain his image and avoid scandals. Jinyoung is starting to understand what kind of scandals he might have been talking about.
“Uh, that’s okay,” Jinyoung replies, deciding it’s probably best not to take Jackson up on the offer anyway, “I have an early morning.” The moment the words are out of his mouth, Jinyoung feels like he’s aged thirty years.
Rather than being offended, Jackson just smiles. “A man with principles, that’s new,” he whispers thoughtfully before planting a wet kiss on Jinyoung’s lips. “I’ll see you later, then, boyfriend.”
Jackson waltzes off without another word, grabbing a few of the others as he goes, the group of them walking away together with loud laughs and easy smiles. Jinyoung is left behind, watching as Jackson disappears beyond the sheer curtains, the ghost of Jackson’s kiss still on his lips.