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The problem with having an ex as sweet as Mark Lee, with deciding that you can still be friends after the breakup and meaning it, is that getting even with him becomes a very slippery slope.

Mark and Renjun’s relationship lasted a grand total of eighteen months, nearing nineteen in the end. It’s not forever, but it’s long enough, especially when it had to come to a premature demise when Mark got that job offer in New York, and he’d be stupid not to take it, and Renjun would be stupid to think they could survive long distance when both of them texted like they were each missing thumbs. So they split. Whatever, fine.

It hurt for like, a good while. Actually, sometimes it still does. Did? Renjun’s getting over it, or so he thinks, but it’s only been like, nine months, anyway, and—and it’s hard to break a habit, especially one like Mark Lee, considerate, caring, funny, sweet—if you can think of a good quality a partner should have, Mark Lee’s got it. Because he’s just so personable like that. Because Renjun’s life is awful, and unfortunate, and he’s stupid.

Mark’s visiting Seoul again for a while. Six whole weeks, Chenle had said last week. He probably wants to see you, he had added. He was right, by the way, because after Chenle had told Renjun that, Mark Lee had texted him, hey, I don’t know if you heard, but I’m in town for a while, we should meet up, and Renjun is stupid, Renjun has seen one too many bad romantic comedies, maybe, and he’s not entirely opposed to the idea of ex-sex, and so he agreed. Sure, he had said back, let me know when it works for you.

There was no ex-sex in the end. Mark Lee has a new boyfriend now. Already. Somehow. Because Renjun’s life sort of actually is like one of those many, horrible romantic comedies he’s always watching.

Mark’s boyfriend is older. American. Has a cool job and is funny and is tall and hot, probably. They knew each other before Renjun even knew Mark—back when Mark used to do Summers in New York at his cousins’ house. Renjun doesn’t really understand the geography of the US, but he does know Illinois isn’t in New York’s backyard, so it doesn’t exactly make sense as to how Johnny got to hang out with Mark’s cousins every Summer, but he’s too off kilter to ask, too busy pretending his whole world has not just kinda been flipped on it’s axis to even begin to fathom the distance between Chicago and Queens. They have history together—real history, not the kind Mark and Renjun had, a few overlapping classes in college and a drunken hookup to kickstart their relationship—so Renjun knows he’s toast.

But Mark is sweet. Mark tells him very gently just because he figured Renjun should hear it from him and not like, Donghyuck, and Renjun does a very good job of pretending that he is unbothered, that he’s happy for Mark, that he can’t wait to meet him one day.

Mark makes it worse, though. You sure you’re ok, he presses. Jaeminie said you’ve been extra busy with work lately, are you stressed again? Are you getting out enough? Are you absolutely sure you’re ok?

“I’m fine, hyung,” Renjun says, laughs a little, tries to mask the obvious strain in his voice with a lighthearted giggle instead. There’s been a terrible, jealous, pitiful taste in his mouth since Mark broke the news. Renjun hates it. Renjun needs to—fix it. He does this; feels the need to control, to cover up his vulnerabilities. He thinks it’s like—some sort of trauma response from growing up with parents that have too high of expectations. Or something. He hasn’t seen a therapist. Maybe he should, though, because then he probably wouldn’t lie so easily, “Actually—I’ve been seeing someone, too.”

The slipperiest of slopes.

Mark’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He doesn’t believe Renjun, Renjun can tell because unfortunately, he can still read Mark Lee like a fucking book, but Renjun will get him to believe him, because unfortunately, Mark doesn’t know Renjun’s ever been able to read him like this.

“Really?” No, not really. “That’s great, Renjun-ah. Since, uh—since when? Nobody had… mentioned anything when I spoke to them the last few months.”

“Ah, well,” Renjun shrugs, nonchalant, “it’s still new. We only made things official like—last night. I didn’t really—I’ve been keeping my relationship things to myself lately. You know. In case anyone was still sensitive about… us.”

“Right.” Mark nods. Renjun’s nearly there, nearly fully convinced him. Since when is he such a good liar? This is not something Renjun should be proud of. Also—he does not have a fucking boyfriend. Not even a warm body on his roster. What is he doing? “When did you—I mean. Who, um. Do I know him?”

No, because he is not real, because there is no one.

God, Renjun is in deep shit.

It’s fine, though, he can totally keep lying—think, Renjun, think. He could say it’s someone from work, but Mark knows most of his coworkers. The downside of having an overinterested boyfriend. Could tell him he met some guy on an app, but Mark knows through Donghyuck that most apps are just for hookups these days, and Renjun is too afraid of getting murdered to hookup with somebody he hasn’t met in person for at least thirty seconds. It could be a friend of a friend, except Mark and he have the same friends here, he’d know if Renjun was talking to somebody one of them set him up with, unless—

He thinks about what he actually did last night. Last night, he went to hot pot with Dejun, and then Dejun had Renjun over so he could show him the plethora of new shoes he had just bought, because he’s indecisive and can’t keep all of them, and sending a picture over text does not do them justice, Renjun had to be there in person. Liu Yangyang was also there, because he’s Dejun’s roommate, because he’s like, always there, Renjun is pretty sure. He said a total of maybe four things directed at Renjun (“hey” / “mala is always the move” / “don’t those make Dejun’s feet look stupid” / “later, Renjun”).

Good enough.

“It’s Yangyang.”

It isn’t. It would never be. Renjun knows approximately three things about Liu Yangyang, one of them being his full name, and he has never once, ever, intended on finding out more. But—

“Liu Yangyang? Like, Ten hyung’s friend? Oh, no way.” Mark believes him now, Renjun can tell. Somehow, the feeling of victory takes over the awful, guilty feeling Renjun should feel instead. He really should see a therapist. “That’s—I didn’t even know you guys hung out.”

“Like I said, it’s recent,” Renjun explains, casual, like it really is. “We didn’t wanna make it a thing in case it didn’t work out. But—we’ve been… having fun, or whatever. Dejun hyung really introduced us. So.”

Mark nods, slowly, a tiny grin on his face. “Dang,” he says. He was always fucking saying that. Like, every time Renjun took off his clothes he’d say it, or when the cafe by his apartment they frequented was out of chocolate chip cookies, or apparently, when Renjun’s been dating Liu fucking Yangyang. Oh, my god. Why did he say that? “That’s great, Renjun-ah, seriously.”

Renjun smiles, probably too toothy, taking a hasty sip of the now lukewarm cocktail in front of him, courtesy of Mark. Because of course it would be.

“You should bring him around next time we go out,” Mark encourages him. Mark smiles, for real this time, genuine, and Renjun is like, ninety-seven percent certain he will go to hell for this. “It’d be fun.”

“Sure,” Renjun agrees despite the rapid beat of his heart between his ears. “Yeah, it would be.”

Mark smiles again, and it sort of feels like the slippery slope ends in like, a pit of lava or something. Burns.

* * *

As Renjun’s luck—or lack therefore of—would have it, word travels fast. Even faster when one of your best friends is Zhong Chenle, the pot stirrer that he is, and when one of his best friends is best friends with the—fictional object of your fictional desires. Zhong Chenle and the miniscule circle of international students that decided to stay in Seoul after graduating was always a terrible combination, really. Renjun was doomed from the start.

“So you want me.”

Renjun doesn’t think he’s ever had a proper conversation with Liu Yangyang in all his years of pseudo-knowing him. Yangyang was quiet in college—spent the majority of his time hiding behind Kun and Ten, and then Sicheng, and then Dejun and Hendery. So Renjun has known him for years now, really, but only through anecdotes as told by Dejun, or Chenle through Kun, or in passing at parties and overlapping bar outings, and not at all through actually sitting down and saying anything more than hi, how are you.

“I don’t,” Renjun tells him, very adamantly at that. He invites himself into the apartment, careful to narrowly avoid Yangyang who has clad himself in just a pair of boxers and a sweatshirt. It’s late, sure, but like, sweatpants exist. Renjun put them on before he hauled himself over here, you know, right after he got home from drinks with Mark and then saw the notifications he had from Chenle, and Jeno, and Dejun, and realized he had royally fucked up, so got in a goddamn cab and came here. What’s Yangyang’s excuse? “Is Dejun home yet?”

“No, he’s still at Hendery’s,” Yangyang says. He shuts the door behind Renjun and trails behind him as Renjun beelines for the kitchen, stopping for only a moment to pet Bella, because she deserves it, but he’s also sort of panicked so he can’t give her the usual abundance of belly scratches. He kinda needs a drink. He wonders if he could help himself to Dejun’s stash of diet spiked teas. “Pretending he’s not doing him. Didn’t you come here for me, though, Renjun? You know, considering we’re dating, apparently.”

“Ok, no,” Renjun huffs, turning around to face Yangyang, kitchen table between them, shit eating grin on Yangyang’s face. “We’re not. But I came here to talk to you about that. Sorry?”

Yangyang laughs at that, loud. “You’re funny,” he says. “Also, I didn’t peg you for an—insane liar. Just how hot is Mark Lee’s new boyfriend?”

“I am not insane, first of all,” Renjun snaps. He sort of is, but it is not up to Yangyang to point that out. “I just panicked. It was a fight or flight response thing. How much did you hear about all this, anyway? I mean—what did Chenle tell you?”

“Nothing, actually,” Yangyang shrugs. “Chenle told Kun ge—told him Mark was back and had a boyfriend and you also apparently did, me—and Kun ge obviously told Ten, and then Ten hyung called me like—twelve minutes ago to curse my entire bloodline because he thought we really were dating and I didn’t tell him. Imagine my confusion. So I assume you’re working some kind of angle here to get back at Mark.”

“I’m sorry,” Renjun apologizes, more sincerely this time. “I need less gossipy friends. I also am not trying to—get back at him. He did nothing wrong.”

“Sure,” Yangyang says loftily, shrugging. “But him having a new boyfriend is sending you into a spiral and so you came up with the first lie you could think of, and I don’t know, Renjun—correct me if I’m wrong—but honestly, I just still feel like you kinda want me. I’m not the biggest fan of hard to get, so you should just be honest with me.”

”Good thing I am being totally honest with you.” Renjun laughs at him. But like, in the sort of mean way. He knew Liu Yangyang was ridiculous, but he didn’t know he was this ridiculous. “And that was me correcting you for being wrong. You are gay, by the way, right?”

”Bisexual and as of recent,” Yangyang corrects. He even holds a pointer finger up. “Do you keep tabs on me?”

”Gay is an umbrella term. Also, considering I know relatively nothing else about you, no, I do not keep tabs,” Renjun says. He scoffs. “Dejun mentioned something about it in passing, like, last month. Something about popping your—gay club cherry. How’d that go?”

Yangyang hums. “Fun. I got hammered. I stole the calendar of half naked dudes they had on the bathroom wall.”

”And where is it now?”

”In my bedroom.” Yangyang grins, slimy. “Wanna see?”

”Absolutely not.” Renjun pointedly does not smile. “Can we get back to the problem here?”

“There’s a problem?” Yangyang asks, and Renjun doesn’t know if he’s being annoying on purpose, but he sort of wants to take the giant hood of Yangyang’s giant sweatshirt and pull it over his head so he doesn’t have to see him anymore. “I think the only problem here was that you never properly asked me out.”

“Ok, whatever, yes, totally my bad, Liu Yangyang.” Renjun rolls his eyes. Then, seriously, “I’m telling my friends I panicked and lied because I’m a control freak who may or may not be fully over his ex, so we don’t have to like—do this, you know.”

”What?” Yangyang frowns, like he’s genuinely offended. Like he seriously thought Renjun did want him. “You can’t—give up so easily. Why let Mark win?”

“There’s nothing to win,” Renjun tells him. “Again, he did nothing wrong. Actually, that's the problem here. I’m douchey, he’s not, I guess.”

“I don’t think you’re douchey,” Yangyang says, and Renjun wants to point out that Yangyang doesn’t know the slightest thing about him, but instead, Yangyang continues, “Besides, what if we did date or something?”

”Hell would freeze over, probably,” Renjun says. He laughs again, Yangyang’s offended gasp hardly heard under the sound of his cackle. “No offense, but you’re not my type.”

”A little offense taken,” Yangyang says, diplomatically. “What is your type then?”

”I don’t know,” Renjun snaps. He thinks about it for a minute, eyes Yangyang, takes in his baggy sweatshirt and shaggy head of hair and multiple dangly earrings. His goddamn boxers. “Friendly. Realistic. Neat. Canadian, I guess.”

”That feels targeted.”

”It wasn’t,” Renjun says. A half lie. Still, he’s curious, “Am I your type or something?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Yangyang muses, and then he leans back and kinda just—stares at Renjun, Renjun can feel it, but he glances to see Yangyang’s gaze drag from his legs, linger on his ass and then settle back on his face, and then he shrugs. “You’re alright.”

“Alright,” Renjun repeats. He laughs, just—incredulous. “And I’m not supposed to be offended?”

”No, wait, that’s not what I really meant,” Yangyang scrambles. “Also—I was getting at something here.”

“Had me fooled considering all you’ve done since I’ve shown up is talk out of your ass,” Renjun tells him. “Hurry up before I take myself to Hendery’s and physically carry Dejun back here. I need him to talk some sense into me. Into you.”

“First of all, I’m plenty sensible, and trust me, you don’t wanna go anywhere near the two of them when they’re alone,” Yangyang says. Renjun thinks he sees him shudder. “Anyway—as far as I see it, we both need something. Like, you need to pretend you’ve moved on from your perfect, too nice, too cool ex and me, well. This might come as a surprise to you since I’m such a lady killer, but I kinda need help with like, the whole… dating dudes thing. So—“

”Are you out of your mind?” Renjun laughs at him again. Yangyang’s eyes get all wide, and then he starts shaking his head, waving his hands a little, too. “I am not like, some kinda experiment—“

”No, no, I know that!” Yangyang assures him. He comes around to Renjun’s side of the table and Renjun sort of wishes they still had three feet of chipped wood between them. “I’m saying we can—help each other out here. Pretend to date. Meaning, I show up to a few things with your friends while Mark is in town, we hold hands while you call me baby or something, and then, on the side, you can just like—give me pointers. A guide to navigating being gay. Umbrella term.”

”Call you baby?”

“Like, yeah, what’s wrong with that?” Yangyang’s face twists. “Do gay people not call each other that or something? I swear I’ve heard Kun ge call Ten that like, at least once in my life.”

”Anyone can call their partner baby, Yangyang, that’s not like—exclusively one thing or another.”

”Ok, great, see—I’m already learning things then!” Yangyang smiles again. He has a lot of teeth. Pretty, but—wow. That’s a lot. “And I mean, look. I only realized I was bi like, a few months ago. I’m twenty-four now. I feel like I’m just—so behind everyone else when it comes to experience and how to even talk to guys and like, Dejun refuses to help me since I tried to kiss him that one time, and Sicheng ge is always busy with that guy he’s hooking up with, and—“

”Ok, stop, you’re actually making me feel bad for you.” Renjun brings a head to his head, rubs at his temples with his fingers. “Why the hell would you try and kiss Dejun, by the way?”

”Never kissed a dude,” Yangyang says with a shrug. Simple. “We were wine drunk. His lips looked soft.”

Renjun rolls his eyes. Huffs out a somewhat defeated sigh.

He doesn’t want to admit it, but he does feel a little bad for Yangyang. It’s easy to feel like you’re behind when it comes to coming out—Renjun felt like that when he first started to actually date boys, and he basically knew who he was since the day he was born. So forgive him for having a teeny soft spot for Yangyang and his vulnerability right now. God, if Chenle found out about this, he would never hear the end of it.

Not only that, but—he did already tell Mark he was dating Yangyang, and then—Chenle had to tell everyone else, so. The first mistake, yes, but here Yangyang is, willing to go along with it. Another mistake, sure, but also one that could work, that could help Renjun seem normal, seem totally cool with Mark moving on, maybe even make Mark a little jealous or something. It’s insane, and unrealistic, and Renjun is usually much smarter than this, but the slope is slippery, and it could work.

“You know there’s not like,” Renjun says, “one way to be gay, right? Like, you need to experience things on your own for it to—“

”Duh,” Yangyang tells him. “But having a friend to help—“

”We’re not friends.”

”True,” Yangyang allows. “Because we would be boyfriends.”

”Of the fictional variety.”

”Duh,” he repeats.

“Oh, my god,” Renjun mumbles. He totally has been watching too many shitty romantic comedies. Because stuff like this does not happen in real life, and yet. “I can’t believe I’m sort of actually agreeing to this, but, hypothetically—“

”Yes!” Yangyang actually cheers; like, a fist to the air, and a little jump-spin to follow like he’s fucking ten years old or something.

“Ok, none of that,” Renjun tells him, reaching out to tug him back down, just before he brains himself on the kitchen counter or something. “I said hypothetically.”

“The whole thing is a hypothetical, anyway,” Yangyang points out. “Because we’re not even really dating.”

“Ok, like—fine.” Renjun huffs. He makes a good point, unfortunately. Actually, not a good one, per say, but. “It’s only until Mark leaves, though.”

“Obviously.”

“And I get to be the one to break up with you.”

“Yes sir.”

“And,” Renjun adds, “no kissing. Even if we are wine drunk, or whatever BS you tried to pull with Dejun. Actually, no PDA at all. You’re standing too close to me right now, even.”

“Oh, come on,” Yangyang actually whines now. “Not even a hand hold? I thought you wanted them to believe us, Renjun. I thought you wanted to make Mark Lee jealous that you’re still getting your world rocked nightly or something.”

“I never said any of that, so don’t say it again,” Renjun warns him. Yangyang holds his hands up like he’s innocent. “And whatever, like—hand holding is fine, I guess. Sometimes. We need more concrete guidelines, actually, but—”

“But you want me,” Yangyang sings, giggling a little. “But you’re a good, gay person with so much love in your heart for other gay people and you want me to be—”

“I do not want you, you’re out of your—”

“What the goddamn fuck did you two do?” That’s Dejun now, entering the apartment with such force, Renjun swears he can see like, a cartoonish gust of wind following him or something. He’s also sporting a massive hickey. It’s almost like Hendery is in the room with them, too. “Like, genuinely—what? Chenle texted me before about it. Have you guys been fucking behind my back or something?”

“Passionately,” Yangyang says at the same time that Renjun firmly says, “No.”

“Unbelievable,” Dejun laments. “I need a drink.”

“We’re not actually dating,” Renjun scrambles to explain. Dejun goes straight for his diet, spiked teas, and cracks the can open, taking a big sip. “It’s sort of a funny story, actually.”

“Renjun is insane and wants me bad,” Yangyang lies. The son of a bitch that he is. He sits himself on the counter and gets an irritated look from Dejun. “Hey, does this mean I can finally come to you guys to the little brunches you two do sometimes? I love brunch.”

“I’m going to kill you in your sleep,” Dejun tells him, and then downs the rest of his drink, and frowns. He looks at Renjun. “The both of you, probably.”

“Aw,” Yangyang coos. “Then we’d be together forever. Romantic.”

“We’re not dating,” Renjun says, flat. “Actually, I don’t even like—have Yangyang’s phone number. Seriously, Dejun, do you know me?”

“Yes, and I also know Yangyang,” Dejun huffs. He gestures to where Yangyang is swinging his feet back and forth from where they hang from his perch on the counter. “He’s—diabolically, annoyingly persuasive when he wants to be.”

“And I only ever use my powers for good, thank you very much,” Yangyang quips.

“He’s pretending to date me so I can—convince Mark I’m like,” Renjun waves a hand, “over him. Or whatever.”

“Convince?” Dejun frowns. He gets a very worried look in his eyes, all of a sudden. “Renjun, you know this is not—”

“You’re about nine minutes too late to logically talk me out of this,” Renjun says, resolute. He really did need Dejun when he got here. It was all downhill from the second Renjun stepped foot into Yangyang’s territory. “Cute hickey, by the way.”

“I don’t—” Dejun stops, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the weird metallic of their refrigerator. He groans. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Aw, you wouldn’t,” Yangyang taunts him. “Who else would put up with all your nagging even when in bed besides Hendery?”

“Ok, I’m done here,” Dejun decides, before he swiftly turns to exit the kitchen, calls Bella from her bed in the living room, now following on his heels down the hall. “Good luck to you both! I’m staying out of it!”

“Dejun,” Yangyang whines, “your years of musical theater acting actually has led up to this moment! We need you! You’re an important supporting cast member!”

Dejun answers with the click of his bedroom door closing, and Yangyang couldn’t seem any less unbothered, hopping off the counter with a shrug.

“He’s dramatic,” Yangyang concludes. He holds out his hand then. “Give me your phone? You’re gonna need my number.”

And it’s probably Renjun’s last chance to back out, to call it off, to do the reasonable, normal thing, but he hands Yangyang his phone instead, only somewhat defeated, and a whole lot determined to conquer that slippery slope, to get even with Mark Lee.

Yangyang saves himself as baby, followed by an obnoxious number of hearts, and Renjun only half regrets it.

* * *

“He’s blackmailing you.”

“No.”

“You sold your soul to the devil?”

“Also no.”

“You’re going into witness protection and Liu Yangyang is your cover, which is why you couldn’t tell me, your best friend and roommate, about it.”

“No again,” Renjun says. He pulls a sweater out of his closet and over his head. “Although, I don’t think I’d still be able to tell you even if that was the case.”

“I don’t know,” Donghyuck shrugs against the mound of pillows in Renjun’s bed that he’s made himself comfortable in. “Ok, fine. Is his dick huge? Did he dick-notize you, Renjun-ah?”

“He did not—” Renjun pauses. He’s supposed to be dating Yangyang. Should he be like, lying to sell it a little? The thought kinda makes him wanna gag. “Not your business,” he decides on.

“Boring,” Donghyuck boos. “I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I mean, you’ve been seeing him for how long now?”

“Only a few months,” Renjun says, vague. He didn’t discuss any of the specifics yet with Yangyang—that’s what today’s cafe meet up is for—so he hopes Chenle hasn’t been hounding Yangyang for any info, because he doesn’t know Yangyang that well, but something tells him he wouldn’t do too well under pressure. And the last thing they need is their stories not lining up. “I felt weird because it was so soon after Mark hyung. I didn’t wanna—make the group uncomfortable. We’re all still friends.”

“So you thought dropping the bomb on Mark directly would make it better?” Donghyuck laughs. He pulls his phone out of his sweatshirt pocket and starts swiping at it. “He was kinda freaked out, you know. I know he didn’t really wanna tell me—you know, considering my undying allegiance and love towards you—but, still. I could see it in his big, Bambi eyes. Fear. Betrayal.”

“Ok, well—” Renjun starts, stops. He hadn’t expected that. Actually, he hadn’t expected Mark to care much at all considering he was the one with a real new boyfriend and Renjun didn’t even like, know his apparent boyfriend’s birthday. “He’ll get over it.”

“Look at you, all grown up and cruel now. He will get over it, you’re right,” Donghyuck agrees. He laughs, just a tiny bit evil. Then, “You know, even though I do kinda wanna skin you alive for not telling us about Yangyangie sooner, I am happy for you.”

“I told you, I just didn’t wanna make it weird, and it’s new, so—”

“No, save it, I actually can’t think about it for too long or I’ll get mad,” Donghyuck says, waving a hand around as if to brush Renjun off. “But I am serious about being happy for you. This could be good for you, someone else. You’ve been… down. Since Mark hyung moved.”

Renjun falters, just a bit. It’s not exactly like Donghyuck to be so—openly kind or to just start a conversation about feelings on a Sunday afternoon while Renjun gets ready for his day. Renjun also didn’t know he had apparently been down since Mark left. Sure, he was a bit heartbroken, that was a given, but for Donghyuck to comment on it? He thought he was doing just fine, thank you.

“I haven’t been—”

“No, don’t ruin it,” Donghyuck stops him. He stands now, taking a few of Renjun’s pillows to the floor as he does, doesn’t even bother picking them up. He shrugs. “We’re totally gonna be gossiping about you guys for the next few weeks or so, though. Just like, karma.”

Renjun sighs. “I figured that.”

“I hope the dick is worth it,” Donghyuck says, then cackles, evilly, the sound of it echoing down the hall as he goes. “Enjoy your gay, little date!”

It’s not a date, Renjun does not correct. Because he can’t.

* * *

When Renjun arrives at the cafe they agreed on, there are four drinks on the table, lined up neatly in front of Yangyang.

Renjun notices him from outside. Yangyang’s chewing at the straw of his own drink as he scrolls on his phone, otherwise uninterested in the rest of the cafe. He’s wearing a tee shirt three sizes too big and a pair of surprisingly pristine looking sneakers. Same dangly earrings he had the other night. Renjun looks down at his own outfit, a sweater and one of his nicer pairs of jeans, boots, and almost sighs. Yangyang really isn’t his type. There’s no way Renjun’s gonna be able to keep this up.

Still, he enters, makes a beeline for Yangyang in fear he’ll run into someone he knows or something. God forbid.

“Hey,” Renjun greets him. “What’s with the four other drinks?”

”Oh, Renjun, hey,” Yangyang says, as if he didn't expect Renjun to actually show up or something. He gives Renjun a once over. “Cute jeans.”

”Thanks,” Renjun says despite himself. “So? Did you like, invite other people here or something? This is supposed to be like, a secret, in case you forgot.”

”What?” Yangyang laughs, almost like he’s a bit offended. Renjun wouldn’t put it past him, though. Now that he thinks of it, Renjun is almost positive he’s never seen Yangyang without Dejun or Hendery. “No. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got variety. Iced americano—classic, I got the same—and then I got a matcha, and then I got a chai latte—hot—and then I got you a juice because maybe you’re not a caffeine person at all. Are you a caffeine person?”

”Yes?” Renjun slides into the booth, only like, somewhat overwhelmed. Liu Yangyang is an odd individual, maybe. “I usually stick to an americano. But you didn’t like, have to even order me anything.”

”I got here early and had time,” Yangyang shrugs. “Plus—shouldn’t a boyfriend like, do these things?”

”If we were really dating, yeah, maybe,” Renjun says. He takes the matcha just because he doesn’t usually go for that. He deserves a treat amongst all this, he thinks. “Too bad we’re not. Which is why we’re meeting today, by the way. We need to get our story together.”

”You wound me, Huang Renjun,” Yangyang mumbles. “You could say thank you, you know.”

”Fine,” Renjun takes a sip of his drink, “thank you, Yangyang. Best fake boyfriend ever.”

”You’re welcome.” Yangyang looks proud of himself. “So where should we start? Oh! And actually, before we do anything, I should tell you that I had to come clean to Sicheng and Hendery, so they do know we’re not really dating, too. Which brings us to a grand total of—five other people that know the truth.”

”What?” Renjun frowns. “It hasn’t even been forty-eight hours yet.”

”I know, ok, I tried to keep it in,” Yangyang huffs. “But my friends, they’re like—just as nosy as yours, except they make me feel guilty about it. All, Liu Yangyang, you have half the Korean vocabulary that you do because of me, and also, you only have friends because of me, and like—”

“Ok, that’s enough, I get it,” Renjun stops him. He rubs at his temples, as if he feels a headache coming on. “You should work on boundaries with them, by the way.”

“You’re one to talk,” Yangyang scoffs. “The word got to Kun ge from Chenle that I was dating you before it even reached me. And I’m the one involved!”

“Zhong Chenle is in a league of his own,” Renjun mumbles. “Also, we’re not dating.”

“You know what I mean,” Yangyang huffs. “Anyway—what’s our story so far? You know, besides that you like, wanted me so bad that it made you look silly, asked me out incessantly until—”

“You need to stop talking,” Renjun all but begs. “I told Mark that Dejun introduced us. That we were keeping it casual because we didn’t wanna… make my friends feel weird. Given the whole Mark thing.”

“Boring, but that works, I guess.” Yangyang shrugs. He takes a long sip of his drink, makes a face like he’s thinking. “Actually, I like that. Makes me feel like your mistress or something. Sexy.”

“Ok, whatever that means,” Renjun mumbles. “Hey, when’s your birthday, by the way? I realized I know nothing about you.”

“October tenth,” Yangyang says. “I’m a Libra, which means I’m charming, and diplomatic, and romantic. Hot, right?”

“No,” Renjun says. He doesn’t give a shit about astrology, actually. “I’m March twenty-third, if you cared.”

“Of course I care, I’m dating you,” Yangyang says. He giggles like he’s really entertained by himself. “What’s your favorite color?”

“I don’t know,” Renjun shrugs. “Yellow?”

Yangyang hums. “I like red.”

“This feels asinine,” Renjun says. “What does me knowing your favorite color have to do with dating?”

“I don’t know, you started it,” Yangyang says, which is actually true. “We can dig deeper. Like, how ‘bout this one—which one of us tops in the hypothetical relationship?”

Renjun actually kinda chokes at that, launching into a coughing fit so aggressive that a few people actually look over to make sure Renjun isn’t four seconds from death, with Yangyang awkwardly reaching around to pat at his back.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Renjun manages once he finally finishes hacking, and Yangyang holds his hands up like he is truly an innocent man. “I mean, genuinely—”

“Sorry!” Yangyang does not sound it. “That’s like, a thing, isn’t it? You’re also being my Gay Yoda here, in case you forgot.”

“Do not refer to me as that ever again,” Renjun warns. “Also, it can be a thing, sure, if like—we were having actual sex, maybe? Which we’re not, for the record. We agreed we would stop at hand holding!”

“I know that, hey,” Yangyang tries to defend himself. “I’m not—trying to. You know. I just figured—”

“Figured nothing,” Renjun tells him. “Freak.”

“Don’t shame me, it was a real question!” Yangyang makes it worse in an attempt to make it better. Something tells Renjun he does that often. “Also, I’ve been like—curious about that, anyway, I mean. The guy on the bottom is always like, smaller, but does he have to be? Also, how does it fit, because I’ve seen—“

“Oh, my god, why did I agree to this?” Renjun asks particularly no one. He drops his head into his hands and then huffs, lowering his voice as he reluctantly answers, “To put it short—no. The smaller guy does not always need to be on the bottom, same way the bigger guy does not need to be on the top. Also, it fits through like. Stretching. And a lot of lube. And like, crossing your fingers and hoping for the best sometimes.”

“That seems scary,” Yangyang marvels. His eyes are wide. “Like I’m into it, but wow. Where does it all go?”

“Part of the magic, I don’t know.” Renjun groans. “There’s a lot of online resources that could better answer these questions, by the way. You should consider reading. Or like, at least ask one of your own friends, maybe.”

“Are we not friends now?” Yangyang challenges. “Plus, Ten hyung tried giving me the gay birds and bees talk after I came out, and it was going fine, he was like, scarily knowledgeable, actually. Which then got me thinking—ew. Because he does all that stuff with Kun ge and like, oh, my god? It suddenly felt like walking in on your parents or something, you know?”

“No, I don’t,” Renjun returns. “Anyway, whatever. Just—in the future, don’t go asking people if they’re a top or bottom on the first date or something. Let that be gay lesson number one. At least wait until you’re like, in somebody’s bedroom before you so outwardly ask.”

“Ok, fine, noted,” Yangyang agrees, even taps at the side of his brain like he’s really storing the info or something. “Also, this is a date, Renjun?”

“In the literal sense, yes.” Renjun takes a very dignified sip of his matcha. Yum. He really does never order these. Maybe it’d be a perk to keep Yangyang around. “But honestly I just needed to make sure we kept our story straight. Has Chenle tried talking to you?”

“Yes, but I faked food poisoning to avoid him,” Yangyang says easily. “Narrowly, because he nearly barged into the bathroom, but still.”

“Great, then that’s that,” Renjun says. He feels, for a foolish moment, a pang of confidence about this whole thing. “You know, maybe this won’t be so—“

“Renjun-ah!”

Renjun jumps, startled by the all too familiar voice coming up behind him. He thinks his life might flash before his eyes, too, but it actually just looks like a bunch of nothing, so he can’t be too sure.

“Jaemin.” Oh, fuck. Oh, god. Renjun feels his confidence dwindle right before his eyes. “And Jeno-yah. Hi.”

The two of them round their table, Jaemin’s hand sliding into the back pocket of Jeno’s jeans as he smiles with all six hundred of his teeth once they plant themselves to Renjun’s right. Renjun’s confidence does a near death drop then.

“Yangyang-ah, hi,” Jaemin says. Sweet and friendly and also terrifying because Renjun knows what Jaemin is capable of. “Long time no see.”

“Right, since—when was it?” Yangyang clears his throat. He’s nervous, Renjun can tell, but he does a decent job at playing it cool, which is good considering Jaemin can smell fear. “Chenle’s dog’s birthday last year, I think. How’ve you been?”

“Peachy.” Jaemin’s grin gets even wider.

“If Renjunnie brought you around more, maybe it would’ve been sooner,” Jeno mumbles, moody, annoying, giving Renjun a sharp look, and Renjun just rolls his eyes.

“Was trying not to scare him off,” Renjun says with a shrug. Normal conversation obviously. Which he can have with two of his closest friends, thank you very much. “Especially around you two. Jaemin-ah, are you—stop staring at him like that.”

“What?” Jaemin looks away from where he had in fact been staring at Yangyang, who suddenly seems to find his empty iced americano glass much more interesting, and he frowns. “I’m not doing anything. What’s with all the drinks, by the way?”

“Oh, I was, um—“

“Yangyang likes to spoil me,” Renjun says, almost throws up in his mouth as he does, but like—Jeno and Jaemin’s faces sort of light up at that, so he thinks it’s worth it. “So he got me… everything.”

Yangyang, to his credit, does not slip up. Instead he shrugs, very coolly and sweetly says, “Renjunnie deserves it, so.”

“Renjun-ah, he’s so cute,” Jaemin coos, like Yangyang isn’t sitting right there, and then turns to Jeno to continue, “Baby, isn’t he so cute?”

Jeno has more shame than Jaemin so he just nods, gives Yangyang a warm smile and pats at Jaemin’s chest while trying to forcibly remove his hand from his back pocket.

“For sure,” he says, normal.

“Well,” Jaemin says, dragging out the end of the word, slipping his hand into Jeno’s now instead, “we better order and then get going. Jeno-yah signed us up for a pilates class at the gym. His ass is gonna be killer.”

“Jaemin-ah,” Jeno lets out a mumbled whine, but Renjun is honestly unphased—this is relatively very tame for Na Jaemin at noon on a Sunday—but Yangyang keeps making somewhat panicked eye contact with him that Renjun is trying really hard not to laugh at. “You don’t have to—ok. Well. What are you two up to today, then?”

“Oh.” Yeah, what are they up to? Coming up with a backstory and learning each other’s favorite colors. Trying to work on less awkward conversations to have with each other. Trying to get Yangyang to ask less invasive questions. “We, um—“

“The mall,” Yangyang says easily. “I need new—jeans, so Renjunnie agreed to help. I’d be so useless without him.”

He laughs, a touch too loud to be considered natural just before he adds, “He probably just wants to… have an excuse to… look at my butt, though?”

“Yangyang.”

“Cute!” Jaemin says again. He laughs, much louder than Yangyang had, only Renjun knows his is genuine. A little maniacal. “Well, have fun. Yangyang-ah, you should come next time we do something. So we don’t have to wait until Daegalie’s birthday to see you again.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Yangyang agrees. He gives them a polite smile. Sweet. Warm. “Renjun’s been—saying that, too.”

“Aw, so you do care, Renjun-ah,” Jeno says. Bitchy again. Renjun rolls his eyes again.

“Get out of here,” Renjun tells them. “Your ass is getting flatter every second you’re away from pilates, I’m pretty sure.”

“Dick,” Jeno swears. Then, with a smile, “See you guys!”

They turn towards the counter to order, Jaemin swinging their hands together now just as Renjun gets wind of their parting conversation, Jaemin leaning over to tell Jeno, don’t worry, pup, your ass could literally never be flat, that’s one of my favorite things about you. Renjun gives one last eye roll to their backs, going to take a long hard sip of his matcha. He earned it, he thinks.

“So that went, um.” Yangyang pauses. He reaches for the juice now, still untouched, and takes a sip. Makes an aah noise. “Alright? But like, question: am I supposed to hold your ass through your jean pocket or something? Because I’ll be honest, I don’t hate PDA, but that feels extreme.”

“Do not take tips from the two of them, please,” Renjun says. “Jaemin has a concerningly high sex drive and zero decorum. I’ve walked in on him fondling Jeno in public on like, multiple occasions.”

“Oh.” Yangyang nods slowly. “That’s a little terrifying. But I think we kinda sold the whole—dating thing. I mean, for a first time encounter?”

“It could’ve been worse,” Renjun allows. He thinks about it for a second. “Don’t ever bring up me and your butt in the same sentence ever again, though.”

“Jaemin said it first, I panicked!” Yangyang defends himself. “Besides, I was trying to make it believable. We’re supposed to like—desire each other carnally, you know.”

“Unfortunately, yeah.” Renjun laughs at him. “But I don’t put out on the first date, anyway. And I don’t ogle butts on the first date, either.”

“Annoying,” Yangyang mumbles, rolls his eyes back before he takes another sip of the juice, smacking his lips a little afterwards. “Hey, Jaemin called Jeno baby, though. Totally a universal gay-straight thing. You were right!”

“Were you doubting me?” Renjun tsks. He pauses then, watches as Yangyang somehow houses the rest of the juice and then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Gross, kinda. Still, oddly enough, “Hey. What if we actually did go to the mall, though? I have nothing else going on today.”

“Baby,” Yangyang says, annoying, awful, “you so wanna ogle my ass.”

* * *

Renjun can practically feel Chenle’s eyes burning into him with the stare he’s holding. Intense. Up to no good. Gossipy and nosy.

“Can I actually help you?” Renjun asks. He pulls down the menu he had been reading and makes eye contact with Chenle, who does not break, and then glances at Jisung, who expectedly does, eyes wide, face going pale.

“I don’t know, Renjun,” Chenle says with a laugh. “Can you?”

“Ok, you’re annoying,” Renjun mumbles. He moves on, “Jisung-ah, do you wanna do the pork belly or the ribs?”

“Uh, you can pick, hyung, I don’t—”

“Where’d you get that jacket?” Chenle interrupts, and when Renjun pulls down his menu again, Chenle is squinting at him, scrutinizing. “That’s not a you jacket.”

“What?” Renjun looks down at himself. Said jacket is actually from his mall trip with Yangyang a few days ago. (Which went surprisingly well. They spoke mostly about Dejun, and Yangyang’s spoiled cat, and their Haidilao sauce recipes, but it was refreshingly easy to talk with Yangyang, which Renjun was grateful for.) Renjun will admit it’s not from one of his usual stores, but instead one of Yangyang’s. Still, he thought he was cool. Yangyang said it suited him. He debated for like, a whole five minutes over it and everything. “I just bought it the other day. It’s a me jacket. It’s on my body. Isn’t it cool? Jisung-ah?”

Jisung once again looks like he’s just seen a ghost. “Yeah,” he says. “I like it.”

“I didn’t say it was ugly, I just said it’s not your usual style. I can tell.” Chenle clicks his tongue. Then, with a voice dripping with sarcasm, “Maybe it’s Liu Yangyang’s?”

“No, it isn’t,” Renjun says. He fights his instinct which is to scoff, and then maybe gag, and ask Chenle why he would even suggest such a thing when he remembers Yangyang is technically his boyfriend. “But I did buy it with Yangyangie. From one of the stores he likes.”

“Interesting,” Chenle says. He taps his chin like he’s thinking. “So you’re like, really committed to that, huh?”

“Is that supposed to be Yangyang?” Renjun laughs. He looks at Jisung for clarification, who just shrugs, taking a hasty sip of his water. “Yes. I am.”

“Yeah,” Chenle confirms. “Jaeminie and Jeno hyung said they saw you guys the other day.”

“Ok, and?” Renjun pulls the menu up again, just to give himself something to do. There’s no reason he needs to be scanning the menu for this long; he’s been to this restaurant dozens of times now.

“They said you guys were cute,” Jisung supplies. Then, with what he thinks is a whisper, but is not one at all, “Chenle-yah, you can’t—”

“I just feel like there’s no plausible way you’re actually dating Yangyang,” Chenle says, blunt. Leave it to him. “I mean, he like, is so not your type. He’s—Yangyang.”

“And what would you know about my type?”

“I know it’s not—guys that have more cat hair on their clothes than anything else, can’t cook a meal to save their life, whose main hobbies are… European football forums and skate fail videos. I mean, seriously, did you forget we’re best friends or something? Renjun-ah, don’t insult us, we know you.”

“So what?” Renjun rolls his eyes, but deep down, he unfortunately knows Chenle is right. “You’re mad that I didn’t tell you about Yangyangie for so long, but this is why. You guys are—evil. And judgemental. Like a bunch of nitpicky vultures.”

“Not all of us,” Jisung whines a little, but Renjun knows he likes to gossip just as much as the rest of them so he shoots him a look.

“Also,” he continues, “have you ever considered maybe I need something different after Mark hyung? It’s… refreshing, dating Yangyang. Something new.”

For what it’s worth, it’s a convincing argument. Convincing enough that Chenle actually just shrugs, takes a prim sip of his own water and then tilts his head left, then right, as if he’s really considering.

“I guess,” he finally says. Renjun waits for something else, but Chenle just grabs the waiter’s attention, executively decides on pork belly, and also a bottle of soju, which Renjun is somewhat grateful for. He’s getting good at lying about this, but not that good. He kinda needs a drink.

“Whatever,” Chenle says finally, after the waiter’s left and Jisung’s just stared at him for like, fifteen whole seconds, as if he was trying to mentally send him a message, and Renjun wouldn’t put it past them, so he thinks whatever Chenle is about to say actually came directly from Jisung. “Bring him out with us this weekend then. Mark hyung wanted to go to that karaoke bar, the new one. It’d be fun if you both came.”

“Fine,” Renjun agrees, hoping there isn’t too much of a strain in his voice. “We’ll be there.”

Chenle nods, very dignified, and somehow, they don’t bring up Yangyang again for the rest of the meal. But every time Renjun pushes up his sleeves a little, or when he’s leaving and hugs his jacket a little tighter around his body to shield from the breeze, he can’t help but feel all weird inside. Yangyang did also pick it out.

* * *

“Are you kidding me?” Yangyang frowns at where their hands are linked, the two of them paused on the corner, karaoke bar down the block. “This is a dead giveaway we’re not actually dating. We need to interlock.”

He does just that, slides his slender fingers between Renjun’s, and Renjun pulls away.

“It is not a giveaway,” Renjun argues. Yangyang looks so offended, like Renjun’s just genuinely insulted him or something. “People hold hands like this all the time. There isn’t one way to specifically hold hands with your partner. I held hands with Mark like this frequently.”

“Bringing up your ex in front of your new boyfriend?” Yangyang scrunches his face together, frowning, sitting into his hip. “That’s low, Renjun. Could be considered a red flag.”

“You’re a pain in my ass.”

“I’m trying to make this convincing,” Yangyang says, shrugging, like he’s being very selfless about all this. “For your benefit, by the way. And interlocking finger is proven to be more intimate than a regular hand hold. And intimacy—”

“I don’t wanna be intimate with you, gross. God, you’re annoying,” Renjun groans, but he takes Yangyang’s hand again, interlocking fingers this time, if only to shut Yangyang up. Yangyang’s hand is warm, and softer than it looks, and smaller than he expected, too. Gentle. Fits nicely. “Happy?”

“Yup,” Yangyang says. Pop’s the p sound. He squeezes Renjun’s hand a little, as if he’s getting used to it. Wiggles his fingers. He’s wearing a ring on his pointer and third fingers, and it clinks against the one Renjun’s got on his own third finger. “Kay, this feels nice. You know, I’ve never actually held hands with a boy before. Your hands are soft.”

“Congratulations then,” Renjun says. Ignores the compliment solely because he thinks his ears turn the slightest shade of pink. “Keep it in your pants.”

“God forbid a dude celebrate a milestone or something,” Yangyang huffs. “But alright. Let’s go, baby.”

“You don’t have to call me that when no one else is around.”

“I’m getting into character,” Yangyang says, and then he lets Renjun drag him down the sidewalk to the bar, nerves in Renjun’s stomach going haywire.

He’s starting to regret this. And like, beyond the fact that he now has to hold Liu Yangyang’s hand and pretend the sun shines out of his ass or something, but also just—this whole thing. Trying to get even with Mark Lee in the first place. Agreeing to come tonight. Agreeing to stay friends with Mark Lee. That was stupid, wasn’t it? People can’t actually stay friends with their ex, that’s like, the golden rule of breakups, Renjun is pretty sure.

God, he is so—

“Renjun-ah!” Donghyuck calls across the crowded bar, a very tone deaf rendition of a Wonder Girls song playing over the speakers, the guy on the mic absolutely hammered. Renjun has a vision of Donghyuck doing the same thing in an hour or so. He gets the chills.

“Hey, guys,” Renjun greets when he reaches them, and he hopes his smile is natural enough, not too terse, too awkward. He’s suddenly very aware of Yangyang’s hand in his. Even more so when Mark turns around to greet him, and immediately zeroes in on it. “What’d we miss?”

“Jisungie is going to sing Oasis,” Jaemin says, matter of fact. “I’m paying for it.”

Jisung, expectedly, groans. “Hyung, I am not—”

“Jisungie, come on, everyone here will love it. Hyung will love it!” Jaemin coos, annoying on purpose, and when Jisung starts to argue more, Jeno does a standup job of ignoring them, looking at Yangyang with a polite, “Hey, Yangyang. I’m happy you made it out with us finally.”

“Me too,” Yangyang says, gives them all a nice, friendly smile. “Thanks for extending the invite.”

“We had to,” Donghyuck says, flat. “Renjunnie has been keeping you hidden, so.”

“For the last time—”

“You want a drink, Yangyang-ah?” Donghyuck asks. He pops out of his seat, hipchecking Chenle in the process. “Chenle, let’s go. You’re buying the first round, remember?”

“I don’t want to buy Liu Yangyang anything, actually,” Chenle says with a laugh, but he’s getting up, anyway, tugging Jisung along as he does.

“As always, it’s especially nice to see you again, Chenle.” Yangyang rolls his eyes, but laughs, turning to Renjun with a much sweeter expression as he asks, “Drink?”

“I’ll have what you’re having,” Renjun says, because Yangyang actually does not know his drink of choice—goddammit, they should have covered that—but this makes it easier for now. “Thanks.”

Yangyang smiles again with a nod, slips his hand out as he lets Donghyuck direct him towards the bar, and when his fingers linger just a tiny bit before he pulls away entirely, brushing against Renjun’s knuckles, Renjun can’t help but notice how jarringly domestic it feels. What the fuck? Yangyang is already so good at this.

With the majority of the group gone and Jaemin now whispering—god only knows what to Jeno across the table, it leaves Renjun with only Mark, Mark fucking Lee, and Renjun suddenly feels like a wounded animal left out in the open, vulnerable, and stupid, and like, moments away from death or something.

“Hey again,” Mark greets him. Renjun’s stomach twists, anxious.

“Hi.” Renjun forces a smile. “How’s, uh, being back so far? Good?”

“Definitely,” Mark says, giving him a smile with almost too many teeth. “It’s been nice catching up with my family here. My aunt has been feeding me like crazy. I did miss her cooking, though, so I can’t complain.”

“Of course not,” Renjun laughs, and it’s weird because Renjun knows Mark’s family, because he spent some of Mark’s birthdays and a holiday or two with them, and now he’ll just—never see them again. Wouldn’t have a reason to. Renjun pushes the thought from his mind. Asks, very bravely, “How’s your boyfriend been faring without you at home?”

“Oh.” Mark laughs, ducking his head like he’s embarrassed. Maybe he didn’t expect Renjun to ask. Renjun sure as hell didn’t. “He’s been good. The time difference is weird, but.”

“Oh, definitely,” Renjun agrees. That’s part of the reason why we couldn’t work, Renjun’s brain unhelpfully supplies.

“Actually, I think he might come join me towards the end of my trip,” Mark says next. Because like, of course—because it was bad enough that Mark can talk about his hot, new, American boyfriend, and now he has to make it worse by physically dangling said hot, new, American boyfriend right in front of Renjun, bringing him here, gloating. “He’s still working out his days off, but I think it’d be fun if I could show him around.”

“Wow,” Renjun says, awkward smile on his face as he swallows down the terrible feeling in his mouth. “That’d be awesome if he could come. I hope he can. I’d love to—meet him.”

“He’s heard a lot about all of you guys,” Mark says. He looks down as he smiles, like maybe he’s remembering something, something Renjun is not privy to. “I know he’d like it, too.”

Renjun opens his mouth to say something else, to make it worse, probably, when there’s suddenly a gentle touch sliding along the small of his back, settling at his waist. It kinda brings Renjun back from the spiral he had felt on the horizon, makes his insides oddly settle back into their proper places.

“Here, baby.”

It’s Yangyang, and he’s carefully balancing two beer bottles in one hand, fingers wrapped awkwardly around the necks of them, which is stupid considering he has a free hand, he just had to use that one to—wrap around Renjun’s waist instead. It’s still there. He’s warm.

“Oh, thanks,” Renjun says, a little brainless, but Renjun’s just had the whiplash of a lifetime, probably, and like, why is Yangyang good at this?

Yangyang looks at Mark like he’s noticing him for the first time or something. “Did you want something, too, hyung?” Yangyang asks, a little too sweet to be genuine. “We could get Chenle’s card again.”

Mark laughs, and it’s a touch awkward, Renjun can tell, can practically feel it in the air. “No, I’m good, thanks,” he says. He looks behind them now, gestures a little with his nearly empty glass. “I think Chenle wanted to… put our name in to do a song next, so I’ll just go find him myself.”

“Ok.” Yangyang shrugs. “Looking forward to your karaoke debut, then.”

Mark smiles and then he slips away behind them, and Yangyang’s hand is still at Renjun’s waist and he’s still warm. Weird.

“Was that bitchy?” Yangyang asks once Mark’s out of earshot. “It felt too bitchy, and that’s not usually my forte, to be honest. Should I dislike him? What angle am I playing at here?”

“It wasn’t bitchy,” Renjun assures him, although it kinda was, but Renjun also—kinda didn’t hate it. Whatever, sue him. “Just be normal. You don’t have to hate anyone.” He pauses. “Can you—move your hand now?”

Yangyang’s cheeks pink, eyes a little wide as he drops his hand to his side. “My bad,” he says. Then, with a stupid smile he adds, “You’re just so irresistible, Renjun-ah.”

“I told you to keep it in your pants,” Renjun jokes. It’s not that funny, but Yangyang actually really giggles over it, so Renjun feels victorious enough. “Now come on. I think Jaemin is seriously getting Jisung up there. I’ll kill myself if I don’t get the whole thing on video.”

“Yes sir,” Yangyang says, salutes. He holds a hand out then, offering it to Renjun. He grins. “Lead the way.”

* * *

It goes weirdly well, all things considered.

Yangyang must just be better under pressure, because there are no slip ups once, no awkward moments or obviously forced affection, and Renjun’s friends seem to all really like Yangyang, especially Donghyuck, who gives him a rave review of ‘pretty cool,’ after he bonds with Yangyang over a very niche R&B artist they both like. And Renjun knows it doesn’t sound like much, but Donghyuck is usually a pretty tough critic, so he knows he means it.

They have fun. Jisung does do Oasis—much to his chagrin and everyone’s delight—and Jaemin and Jeno get too handsy and disappear to the bathroom, and Chenle actually ends up buying a round of shots for everyone. They even make plans to see each other again soon, Yangyang included, and Yangyang sort of beams on the way home when Renjun tells him it was a good start.

“You underestimate me, Huang Renjun,” Yangyang says with a solemn shake of his head as they sit shoulder to shoulder, voice quiet under the hum of the subway. “I told you I was gonna be the best fake boyfriend you ever had.”

“You’re also the only one,” Renjun points out. “And hopefully the last. Because I am not interested in doing this again.”

“Hopefully the last?” Yangyang hums. “Sounds to me like you actually just want me to be your forever. That’s a big commitment, Renjun.”

“Ok, no,” Renjun scoffs. “Do not get a big head just because Donghyuck thinks you’re mildly entertaining. I am still counting down the days until our breakup.”

“So romantic, you,” Yangyang jokes, gives Renjun’s knee a subtle pat, and if his hand lingers for a moment, Renjun pretends not to notice. “Does this mean I earned like, a gay person tip, by the way? Because I still have questions.”

Renjun eyes him. “I feel like you should consider not calling it that.”

“Oh, ha-ha,” Yangyang chuckles to himself. “Tip. I get it.”

“You don’t, actually, it seems,” Renjun jokes, and it takes Yangyang like, a solid four seconds until he seems to understand that joke, too, laughing a little harder.

“Oh, wow, that was actually really good,” he says, like it shocks him. “Renjun, I feel like this could be the start of a beautiful friendship if we let it.”

“Yeah,” Renjun mumbles, just as the subway prompter dings with their stop, “that’s what I was afraid of.”

* * *

Renjun is tugging on his shoes, two minutes from stepping out the door to meet Chenle for dinner when his phone starts buzzing in his back pocket. He almost doesn’t even bother checking who it is—most likely Donghyuck calling to tell him he’s not coming home, he’s heading to that guy he’s seeing’s apartment instead, and Donghyuck will end up texting him that if he doesn’t pick up, anyway—but something, something a little wary in the pit of his stomach, tells him to.

It’s Yangyang. The abundance of heart emojis sliding across his screen when he checks tells him that much. He drops a boot and picks up.

“Hello?” he answers. They don’t typically talk like this. Hell, they actually don’t talk much at all; at most, Yangyang will send Renjun a stupid meme he saw on Instagram, or a TikTok, and Renjun will use the laughing reaction at it, or sometimes Yangyang will ask him a borderline invasive question about being queer, and then absolutely nothing else. So, “Why the hell are you calling me?”

“Oh, nice to hear from you, too,” Yangyang scoffs, sarcastic, but his voice is hushed, like he’s whispering. “Renjun, we’re in trouble.”

“What do you mean we?” Renjun hasn’t seen Yangyang since two days ago, at the karaoke bar. “Also, why does it sound like you’re whispering?’

“Because I’m hiding in the bathroom at Kun ge and Ten’s,” Yangyang says. Then, quickly, “I was here hanging with Ten hyung, you know, minding my business, when Chenle came over to—I don’t know, something with Kun. Anyway, he set me up, because he said, what are you doing here and not with Renjun? And I said, actually, I’m going to see him after this, and he said—”

“Fuck,” Renjun swears. “Yangyang. I had plans with Chenle!”

“I know that now!” Renjun can hear the panic in his voice even in just the whisper. “I told you, he set me up! So now I’m hiding in the bathroom and he’s waiting outside to probably ambush me again. Has he spoken to you? What should I tell him?”

“No, I haven’t heard from him since yesterday,” Renjun says. Chenle is not the type to confirm plans multiple times before they happen—take Jisung or how Mark was, for example—Chenle sets a time once and expects you to be there. It would be easy to say Renjun forgot, but— “Oh, fuck. He’s calling me.”

“Fuck!” Yangyang echoes. “What are you gonna—”

“I’ll call you back,” Renjun says, and then swiftly hangs up, clearing his throat and sucking in a deep breath. It’s go time. “Chenle?”

“Huang Renjun,” Chenle says, and Renjun can tell he’s annoyed, or maybe a little skeptical, something lingering in his voice that Renjun can’t quite place. “What are you doing?”

“Me?” Renjun stalls. What is he doing? What has he been doing? Becoming a massive, idiotic disappointment, that’s what. He makes a spur of the moment decision, “Getting ready to see Yangyang. Why?”

“Yangyang?” Chenle repeats incredulously. “We had plans. What the fuck, Renjun?”

“Oh, my god.” Renjun really puts his all into his acting. He doesn’t know how convincing it is; he hasn’t acted in anything since his middle school Spring semester play, but. His phone buzzes against his ear, and when he pulls it away, he sees Yangyang is now texting him, just a myriad of nervous looking emojis. “That was tonight?”

“Yes, it was tonight. What the hell?” Renjun can practically hear the frown in Chenle’s voice. “I can’t believe you’d just forget like this! That’s so unlike you!”

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m the worst,” Renjun feigns an apology. He types back a bunch of middle fingers to Yangyang and then continues, “I can tell him I double booked and that I’ll see him another time? I know you’ve been wanting to try this new place, I feel bad that I—”

“No, whatever,” Chenle says flatly. Like he’s a little defeated, like maybe he’s—accepting something that he never thought he’d actually have to. That being, Renjun and Liu Yangyang, of all people. “I can just take Jisung or something. You guys should go. He looked happy to see you, so.”

Renjun pauses. Yangyang looked happy to see him? Damn. Maybe he really is more committed than Renjun thought.

Renjun plays it cool, though. “Looked? What, you saw him?”

“Oh, yeah,” Chenle says, nonchalant. “I went to Kun ge’s. Yangyang was like, already talking Ten’s ear off about you, I’m pretty sure, because it got super quiet when I came in, and—stop, I’m telling the truth, go away, Yangyang, I’m mad at—”

“Ok,” Renjun stops him. Stops the both of them? He feels his heart beating a little faster than normal and tells himself it’s the adrenaline high of this charade. “Um. Well, I’m really sorry again. Can we reschedule?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Chenle says. “I’ll text you.”

“Thanks,” Renjun says. “I guess you really do love me.”

“Don’t go around telling people that or something,” Chenle laughs. “Later.”

It’s not even thirty seconds after the line goes dead that Renjun’s phone buzzes with another text.

baby <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3: soooo you free tonight

* * *

The samgyetang place by Yangyang’s is an easy enough place to meet at, far enough from anywhere Zhong Chenle might be lurking, waiting to catch them in their next lie. Yangyang even offers to pay, just as compensation for almost blowing their cover, so Renjun orders double the sides, just because he can.

“You’re really milking me for all it’s worth,” Yangyang pretends to complain once the waiter disappears to put their order in. “Starting to think you only want me for my wallet.”

“I don’t want you at all, actually,” Renjun informs him. “Also, you offered to pay. Think about the freedom you’re giving me before you put it out there next time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yangyang dismisses. “You’re worth it anyway.”

“Gross, no,” Renjun whines. “What did I say about—keeping up the dating thing when no one is around?’

“I need to get in all the practice I can!” Yangyang explains. “Actually, I think I’m getting pretty good at the whole flirting thing. At least with you, but I could probably flirt with a guy if he came up to me right now.”

“I mean I’d hope,” Renjun scoffs. Feels—a little funny about that, for whatever reason. The idea of them sitting here and some other guy actively hitting on Yangyang. That’d be weird, probably. Rude of the hypoethical guy. “You’ve flirted with people before, I’m sure. Didn’t you have a girlfriend in college?”

“Sorta, kinda,” Yangyang shrugs. “Dudes are different, though. Like, how am I supposed to know the difference between being nice and flirting? Tale as old as time, you know?”

“Not really, no,” Renjun laughs at him. “I usually can tell when someone is flirting with me. Because I’m like, a sentient body with a brain.”

“Ok, that was mean,” Yangyang grumbles. He gives Renjun a pout that’s mildly endearing. “I think I’m just overthinking it now. Ten hyung said he watched me fumble two guys when we popped my gay club cherry, so it’s just weighing so heavily on my mind. Dejun says I’ll never kiss a dude at this rate. I’m hopeless.”

“You’re not,” Renjun says. He rolls his eyes because Yangyang is dramatic. “You were quite literally just saying you were getting the hang of flirting with me like, forty seconds ago.”

“You’re different, though,” Yangyang argues. “It’s easy with you because I’m comfortable with you, because none of it is real. But if you were a guy I was actually trying to woo? I’d freeze up. Like, what do I say, hey, can I buy you a drink?”

“You can’t possibly lead with that, that’s how someone actually milks you for your money,” Renjun says. He knows because he’s been in that position before—not as the guy paying, because he only opens his wallet for like, Jisung—but he has taken advantage of a few lowly guys in clubs before. Not really since college, but still, he’s practically an expert. “You just need to start normal. A compliment or a hello. It’s not rocket science.”

“Ok,” Yangyang says, then, “hi, Renjun. Cute butt.”

“Not me, you—” Renjun huffs. “Also, I thought I told you no more talking about my ass. Pervert.”

“My bad,” Yangyang apologizes, though Renjun knows he doesn’t mean it. “Ok, I like your smile, then.”

“I’m not smiling, so you couldn’t possibly know you like it,” Renjun snaps. “Also, do you have to do this with me, now? Save it for like, Hendery or Sicheng. I already get enough of you like this around my friends.”

“I’ve seen you smile, though, so I do know,” Yangyang points out. He smiles then, smug and gross, voice dropping a little lower as he continues, “Plus, I think you could be getting a whole lot more of me, if you wanted.”

“Fuck off, oh my god,” Renjun groans, thankful when he sees some of their food coming over to the table, steam seeping out of the soup. His mouth waters a little. This was a good choice. He mentally thanks Yangyang. “I don’t want you to ever try flirting with me again. Unless the environment requires it.”

“Oh, come on.” Yangyang pouts again, laughs just a tiny bit. “It could be worse. I could be asking for pointers on kissing a guy. Still haven’t done that. I could be trying to kiss you, even.”

“I will surgically remove your lips before you even get the chance to try,” Renjun threatens him. “Not happening. Now eat your food.”

“Bossy,” Yangyang tsks. He digs into his share of the bowl to help himself, still grinning stupidly as he adds, “I like it.”

The worst part is, Renjun has no idea if he’s kidding. He tells himself Yangyang is for his own benefit.

* * *

“So I caught Yangyang watching gay porn last night.”

It’s the last thing Renjun expects Dejun to say, especially in the middle of the park, sun setting in the distance, people out and about around them, but Renjun’s life is far from average these days, so he guesses he can’t be too surprised.

“Ok,” he says slowly. Nods. Processes. “You’re telling me this, why?”

“Because it was objectively hilarious,” Dejun says with a scoff, Bella tugging him forward when she lunges at a bird, throwing him off balance just a little. He regains composure as he goes on, “Oh, and not like—in the gross way,” he mimes a motion surely indecent for public space, “like, in an educational way. I walked into his room and he was at his desk just—actually watching. He said he was doing foreplay only. Whatever that means.”

“Oh, my god, he’s a freak,” Renjun mumbles, shaking his head just a little. “Also, I’ve told him multiple times porn will teach him nothing but some bad dirty talk, maybe.”

“I know, I told him, too,” Dejun says. He looks around the leash at where Bella is rapidly kicking at the grass, frowning, “Bella, stop, not the—ack. Whatever. Anyway, I also said it. He doesn’t listen to me anymore since I dodged kissing him—”

Renjun sniffs. “Rightfully so on your part, by the way.”

“But he does seem to like your advice a whole lot,” Dejun finishes.

“I hardly give him any,” Renjun says. He shrugs. He really hasn’t—mostly because Yangyang has a habit of asking outlandish things at the worst times—but he tries a little, when he can. There really is no one way of being queer. How much can Renjun even do? “He needs to—experience it for himself. Hands on or whatever.”

“True,” Dejun agrees. He hums a little. “If only he wasn’t—in a fake relationship right now. Then maybe he could put himself out there instead of being limited to hand holding and hanging out with Mark Lee all the time, and then watching porn, for educational purposes, in his free time.”

“What?” Renjun is offended. This isn’t—the fake relationship wasn’t even his idea. I mean, technically, he did say it first, but he was going to come clean about it. He wasn’t going to entertain this at all. Yangyang was the one who insisted they try at least. “This isn’t like, fully on me. Plus, Yangyang is having like—a weird amount of fun with it. And, we don’t see Mark all the time. Last time we all hung out, he actually wasn’t even there.”

Last time, they went to Jaemin and Jeno’s and played a very complex game of charades that Jisung was terrible at. Mark skipped because he had a facetime date with Johnny. Renjun only cared because Yangyang was on his A-game that night and Mark hadn’t even been there to see it.

“You’re getting defensive,” Dejun points out. “I’m just stating a fact. He can’t actually date anyone if he’s dating you.”

“I know that. We both know that,” Renjun tells him. Maybe he is getting a little defensive, but so what? Dejun doesn’t have to sound so accusatory. “We’re staging the breakup in like, a month, anyway. He can download a dating app right now if he wants to start talking to people so bad. As long as my friends don’t find out, it doesn’t matter.”

“Ok, sure,” Dejun says. Shrugs again. He stops so Bella can take an unnecessarily long time smelling a bush. Dejun gives him a look out of the corner of his eye like he’s sort of feeling bad or something. “For the record, he didn’t say any of that to me. I’m just… observing.”

Renjun feels a pang of relief. For some reason. “Ok, well, then why—”

“I just feel like you should both be smarter about all this. Or maybe just more honest with yourselves,” Dejun says, ominous, and vague, and like—Renjun doesn’t get it. “Look alive. Look… within. That’s all I’m saying.”

“That hardly makes any sense,” Renjun huffs. He is looking alive, thank you very much. Also—look within? What is he looking within for? More patience with Yangyang next time he asks about gay internet slang? “But thanks. I am being smart, for the record.”

“Ok, good,” Dejun says. He holds his hands up like he’s innocent, like he didn’t just—poke and prod at Renjun and Yangyang’s arrangement for zero reason. “Also, if he comes to me looking for porn category recommendations, I’m sending him your way. That’s your project now, not mine.”

Renjun grimaces. “Lucky me.”

* * *

The next hangout is also Mark-less, which only irks Renjun a little. I mean, what’s the point of dragging Yangyang here, holding his still soft, still gentle hand, with Yangyang still calling him stupid pet names if Mark isn’t here, when Mark is the whole reason they’re even doing this in the first place?

And Renjun’s already on edge, already feeling irritated and guilty; he’s been thinking a lot about what Dejun said earlier this week—about being smarter, about how he’s sort of holding Yangyang back. Yangyang doesn’t seem to mind, sure, but who’s to say that’s how he really feels?

“Hey.” Renjun nudges his shoulder into Yangyang’s as they walk, just nearly at the dive bar they all agreed to meet at, as per Donghyuck’s request. He even apparently went out of his way to text Yangyang separately, which only freaked Renjun out a little, and made Yangyang feel annoyingly proud of himself.

(“I’m getting so good at this, baby,” he gloated.

“Don’t get a big head. Donghyuck has the worst judge of character, anyway,” Renjun had said, just to say it.

He also didn’t even point out that no one was even around to hear the way he called him baby. Which means nothing, probably.)

“Hi,” Yangyang returns, grinning over at him for only a second, eyes back to the sidewalk ahead of them, Yangyang given the task of directing them there tonight.

“Does it like, bother you?” Renjun asks. He clarifies, “You know. That you have to keep up—dating me. That you can’t actually get out and date real people. Guys.”

“You’re a real guy,” Yangyang says. He looks at him again out of the corner of his eye like he’s confused. Unsure.

“Yeah,” Renjun rolls his eyes, “but we’re also not really dating. You could be meeting someone you want to really date right now.”

“Renjun,” Yangyang holds a hand to his chest, “are you breaking up with me?”

“Can you be serious?” Renjun groans. “I saw Dejun the other day and he just—mentioned something about it, so now it’s on my mind. I just wanna make sure I’m not… being a tyrant or something. If you want out, at any time—”

“Dejun’s annoying,” Yangyang tells him. It’s his turn to roll his eyes now. “I’m fine, Renjun. This was like, my idea in the first place. Plus, I don’t—I don’t think I’m ready to actually date someone now, anyway. I still have so much to learn. Haven’t even figured out where the entire dick goes when someone is bottoming.”

“You need to stop saying shit like that in public,” Renjun says, sighing, otherwise helpless. “Just making sure, though. As long as you’re ok.”

“I’m great,” Yangyang assures him with a wide, silly smile on his face, but it makes Renjun feel less anxious inside, less antsy. Less evil. Yangyang holds out his hand then, wiggling his fingers. “So? Shall we?”

They shouldn’t, not actually, because there probably is some truth to what Dejun had said, but he trusts Yangyang more than Dejun about all this, so Renjun lets his fingers fit against Yangyang and they slip into the bar, most of their friends there safe for Chenle, who had sent a text saying he’d be late on the account of ‘the game was too good, hanging out with you guys seemed like such a downgrade.’

“Yangyang-ah!” Donghyuck greets him. He looks at Renjun like an afterthought. “Hi, Renjun.”

“Hi, Donghyuck.” Renjun squints at him. “So happy you forced us all here. Clearly my presence was so important to you.”

“Don’t be whiny, you’re still my favorite,” Donghyuck throws a hand at him. “Yangyangie just gets me.”

“Yeah, Renjun-ah,” Yangyang teases. He’s smiling like this is funny. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I thought I was your favorite,” Jaemin says. He’s sitting so close to Jeno that Renjun wouldn’t risk even thinking about looking under the table where their hands are.

Donghyuck shakes his head, not even sparing him a glance. “You’re just being stupid on purpose, Jaemin-ah.”

Jaemin lets out an artificial, affronted gasp, mouth opening to argue before Yangyang swoops in. He’s getting kinda good at that, too. Reading Renjun’s friends, knowing when to interject, knowing how to talk to all of them just a little differently. It’s—something.

“Anyone want anything while I’m up?” he asks. Polite. So kind.

(Yangyang’s also been spending a lot more lately—even though Renjun always pays him back at the end of the night, and Yangyang says he’s happy to get the credit card points because he and Hendery are saving up for a Tokyo trip—but Renjun still feels bad. He’s so good at being a fake boyfriend. He seriously does pay for like, everything, which is dire, in Renjun’s book.)

Donghyuck will take another highball—and, actually, so will Jisungie, he had tacked on, but everyone else is good, at least for now, which Yangyang notes dutifully.

“Your usual?” he asks Renjun before he parts—he actually knows Renjun’s usual now (a vodka-Sprite with lemon, only when he’s feeling kinda crazy, otherwise just a beer, whatever beer, because Renjun can’t tell the difference)—and Renjun offers to come help, but Yangyang insists he’s got it, Renjun can catch up, he’ll be right back so don’t miss him too much.

“Oh, he really likes you,” Jeno concludes, marvels really, once Yangyang’s slipped off in the direction of the bar, shaggy, bleached head of hair disappearing to the other side of the room.

“Oh,” Renjun says, stupidly. He laughs because he doesn’t know what else to do. Doesn’t know what else to say, so he tries, “He’s—yeah. I guess so.”

“You guess so,” Donghyuck repeats. “He does everything for you. Buys your drinks. Holds the door for you. Carries gum because you always forget—”

“That was one time?”

“He looks at you like he wants to eat you,” Jaemin adds, says it very seriously, too, and Renjun rolls his eyes.

“Eat?” Jisung repeats, a little terrified, and Renjun moves on because he doesn’t wanna sit here and listen to Jaemin explain what he really meant by that to Jisung, of all people.

“So?” Renjun prompts. He guesses that’s—all good things. Means they’re making it believable, that they’re doing a good job. “We’re dating.”

“Yeah, we got that,” Jeno laughs. “It’s cute. You and him. It’s obvious he makes you happy.”

Obvious. Like, all the time? Like, is Renjun—lighter these days or something? Oh, god. He needs to ask his coworkers or something. His barista, maybe.

They’re probably exaggerating, anyway. It’s only been like, three weeks. Nearly four. There’s no way Renjun could be like, happier. Could be over Mark entirely.

Mark, he thinks belatedly. He actually didn’t even think of him once again until now. Huh.

“Ah, you know what they say, happy wife, happy life,” Donghyuck jokes. “Which is why I’m reaping the benefits. You’re such a good roommate these days. I have the apartment to myself like, all the time, too. Don’t break up with him.”

“You’re annoying,” Renjun tells him. Doesn’t say that most of the time he says he’s going to meet Yangyang he’s just running errands or seeing Dejun, and sometimes, only sometimes, does he actually hang out with Yangyang. “I’m going to stay at home like, all the time now. On purpose.”

“If Yangyangie can keep his hands off you for that long, sure.” Donghyuck whistles, low. “It’s like Jaemin said—he totally wants to eat you. And it’d be inhumane to subject me to that if I was home.”

Renjun does not budge, though his stomach does a weird flip-flop at that. Instead, he bites back, “I’ve heard worse from your bedroom, don’t worry.”

“Look who I found,” Yangyang says when he approaches them again, Chenle in tow, reluctantly holding what looks like Donghyuck and Jisung’s drinks. “He tried to pretend like he didn’t know who I was at the bar.”

“It’s called a joke, and it was really funny for everyone involved, actually,” Chenle says. He slides into the seat next to Jeno.

“You were the only one there to hear it,” Yangyang points out. He sits next to Renjun, knees knocking into Renjun’s thigh as he tries to angle himself right at the awkward amount of space they have, and Renjun nudges back, doesn’t miss the little smile on Yangyang’s face as he does. He settles, one leg still close enough that Renjun can basically feel the heat radiating off him.

“And?” Chenle shrugs. “I found it funny.”

“Well, now that Chenle is here after sacrificing parasocial time with Steph Curry,” Donghyuck starts, “has anyone seen what Mark hyung’s boyfriend looks like? Because I was stalking his Instagram and like, wow. He’s big. I’ve been dying to get into this.”

“Hyung,” Jisung nudges Donghyuck, not at all subtle, and when Donghyuck looks at him, Jisung jerks a nod in Yangyang’s direction. “You can’t… you know.”

“He’s literally still our friend,” Donghyuck says, flat. “Yangyang-ah, are you offended by the thought of Mark hyung being near Renjunnie?”

Yangyang makes a face. Sort of like he wants to laugh, but also cry. “No?”

“Great, see,” Donghyuck gestures at them, “it’s a secure relationship.”

“Cute,” Jaemin notes.

“You know you could’ve just asked Mark to see him instead of stalking his profile, by the way,” Jeno points out. He peers over Jaemin to give Donghyuck a judgemental look. “Weirdo.”

“Jeno, get off my dick, seriously.”

“Mark refused to show me him because he thought I’d make it weird,” Jaemin says. “Send me his profile.”

“You will make it weird,” Donghyuck laughs. “But sure. Renjun-ah, have you—”

“No,” Renjun says. Maybe a touch too quickly. “I mean, he showed me a picture of the two of them. Like, once. You know, when he first told me, but—no. I don’t really… care, so.”

Chenle shakes his head. “Stone cold.”

“I’m just saying,” Renjun says loftily. “He moved on and so did I. I’m sure his boyfriend is—lovely in person. And I’m happy for hyung. But—”

“Aw, leave Rejunnie alone,” Jeno says. He reaches over to flick Donghyuck in the side of the head now. He receives a resounding ouch, fuck, in response. “He’s happy!”

“Right,” Renjun agrees. He leans back in his seat a little, his best attempt to act casual, and feels Yangyang’s arm already around the back of it. He fits under it easily. Feels oddly less frazzled than he just did. It’s—not the worst place to be, maybe. “Happy.”

“Ok, well, now that we got that out of the way—” Chenle huffs. “I do not have a parasocial relationship with Curry!”

Renjun hardly catches Chenle’s argument when Yangyang’s fingers brush over the back of his neck, barely there, but enough, enough for Renjun to zero in on it. For his heart rate to pick up the tiniest bit. It feels natural. Normal.

Yes, Renjun confirms, there are worse places he could be.

* * *

Yangyang walks Renjun home that night for the first time in their—fake—relationship, solely because Donghyuck goes to meet up with a guy he’s sleeping with, and it’d be suspicious to part ways at the bar with everyone else, and they’re like, supposed to really like each other or whatever.

(“It’s out of your way,” Renjun had argued. “We can pretend that you—”

“I have nothing else going on,” Yangyang said. He took Renjun’s hand then and tugged past his own subway entrance. “No more fighting, we’re supposed to be a happy couple.”)

“I think Chenle still is skeptical of me,” Yangyang is saying now, laughing a little as he does, like getting under Zhong Chenle’s skin and pulling a fast one on him is a real delight. “He bombarded me with like, fifty questions when he found me at the bar.”

“Before or after he pretended not to know you?”

“After,” Yangyang says. He looks up like he’s thinking. “He told me he was certain you didn’t really like me because I was into F1. Like that’s substantial enough evidence.”

Renjun frowns. “What the hell is that?”

“Oh, wow,” Yangyang says. He puts some little space between the two of them on the sidewalk then, slowing down. “Maybe this… isn’t going to work out.”

“Good thing we have about three weeks left.” Renjun rolls his eyes, continuing ahead, anyway, despite the fact that Yangyang has been drifting towards the other side of the street now. “Hey, we’re halfway there. Should we celebrate?”

“Jesus, Renjun, don’t act so desperate to hold onto me or anything. Is the countdown still necessary? I thought we were finally warming up to each other.” Yangyang jogs to catch up with him again, bumps into his shoulder. “But yes. Do you like ice cream cake?”

“You’re alright.” Renjun shrugs. He looks at Yangyang from the corner of his eye and sees his smile, even though it’s obvious he’s trying to conceal it. “I prefer cupcakes, though.”

“We can compromise,” Yangyang decides. “I can’t believe it’s already been three weeks, though. I need to make a list of all the questions I have before you retire as my Gay Yoda.”

“I told you not to call me that,” Renjun reminds him. “And as long as said questions aren’t about—dicks, then fine. You have too many questions about those considering you have one.”

“Now you sound like Dejun,” Yangyang says, like it pains him.

“Speaking of Dejun,” Renjun pivots. “He told me you were watching porn for educational purposes. What the hell is that about?”

“Oh, goddammit,” Yangyang swears. “He promised me he wouldn’t tell anyone! I was just trying to better myself! I’ll kill him.”

“I’m glad he did.” Renjun shrugs. He giggles. “It kinda made my week. What’s seriously wrong with you? You know it’s not realistic. That’s like, the golden rule of porn.”

“Yeah, but the kissing stuff is realistic. Like, kinda,” Yangyang explains, petulant nearly. He shrugs, like he’s all put out. “I was mostly looking for that.”

“God, you’re really hung up on that still,” Renjun concludes. He shakes his head. Pities him, truly. “It’s just kissing, Yangyang.”

“Yeah, but like—I kissed my first girl ages ago now. Kissing a dude’s gotta be different. I want in! It’s my bisexual right!”

“God, you’re annoying,” Renjun mumbles. He sees his apartment in the distance. Once they get there, Yangyang and he will give each other an awkward wave goodbye, and then they’ll part ways, and then Yangyang will text him to let him know he’s home and Renjun will give him a thumbs up emoji and that’s it. Unless—no. “It’s nothing special.”

“To you,” Yangyang says. Whiny, still. “You’ve kissed so many guys probably.”

Renjun gives him a look. Bites back a smile. “So many?”

“Not like that,” Yangyang is quick to correct. “I mean—you’re like, a pro at it. Probably.”

“Oh?” Renjun laughs now. “Have you been thinking about it or something?”

“What? Kissing you?” Yangyang laughs, once. Awkward. Very ha-ha-like. He fidgets with his hands, tugs at the buttons of his jacket for no reason now. “No. Like, hardly.”

“Hardly isn’t no,” Renjun teases. He doesn’t know—what he’s doing, but he doesn’t know if he hates it.

Kissing Yangyang would be—well, it’d be whatever. A kiss doesn’t have to be a big deal. He used to kiss Donghyuck all the time for fun in college. Nothing ever happened there.

“I know that you—“ Yangyang stops. He scoffs. Like he doesn’t care, really. “You want me to say yes? I mean, I’ve thought about it, sure. Passing idea. Wasn’t going to try or anything.”

A passing idea. Renjun’s never been a passing idea in his life. He gets the urge to—control again. Fix it. What was it about Renjun needing to talk to someone about that? Whatever. Because now it’s like, fuck, Liu Yangyang, he’s going to have to—

“Ok, come here.”

Renjun stops walking, turning to face Yangyang who jerks to a halt himself. There’s no one else out here, and Renjun’s apartment is just a few feet away, and Yangyang’s thought about kissing Renjun in passing, and now Renjun’s going to—let him.

Should he? Maybe not. Maybe this is actually what Dejun meant about being smarter. It’s a good thing Dejun isn’t here.

”What?” Yangyang looks at him, skeptical. Nearly frozen, like he’s afraid to move for fear that he might scare Renjun off.

“I’m going to—“ Renjun sits into his hip, sighing, rolls his eyes a little. Like he can’t believe Yangyang would even think about wasting his time. He makes a nonspecific gesture of his hands. “You wanted to kiss a guy, didn’t you?”

”Yes,” Yangyang says, almost immediately. He laughs again, loud and awkward again. “But like—you? You said—“

”I know what I said,” Renjun says. Because he does know. “But you’ve been doing me a favor, and a kiss isn’t even a big deal, so I can do this a favor. Now—get over here before I change my mind.”

Yangyang looks at him carefully, and Renjun watches as his throat bobs, as his tongue pokes out to wet his bottom lip. It’s a good mouth, Renjun thinks. His lips are a nice shade of pink, and they’re full, don’t look like they’re that horribly chapped like Renjun knows lips can be, thinks kissing them would be just fine.

“Unless,” Renjun adds hastily, “you don’t want to kiss me, then—“

”No, I do, wait,” Yangyang assures him. He steps closer, and now they’re nearly chest to chest and Renjun is going to kiss him. Which is fine, because it means nothing. Yangyang sucks in a breath. Licks his bottom lip one more time. “Ok. Should I close my eyes?”

Renjun doesn’t answer; not verbally at least, instead leans in, a hand bunched up in the material of Yangyang’s shirt, middle of his chest, pulling him in closer, his other hand somewhere around the back of his neck, thumb barely grazing his cheek, fingers pushed through his bleached hair.

And then they’re kissing. It’s not bad, not at all, but Yangyang is hesitant, hardly moves with Renjun’s rhythm, and his own hands are planted firmly at his sides, tiny fists hanging by his hips. Renjun can tell Yangyang is thinking too hard about it. It’s kinda cute.

Renjun hasn’t been a part of anything considered special in a while. Maybe when he lost his virginity. He can’t even remember if the other guy was a virgin, too. And Yangyang has had his first kiss before, Yangyang has done tons before, but not with another man, and now that man is Renjun. It makes something silly fizzle up in his chest.

Renjun releases the material of Yangyang’s shirt, smoothing a hand over the fabric instead. He can feel Yangyang’s heart pounding underneath his palm, wonders if his own is beating like that, too, if it’s his own pulse he feels thrumming through his fingers or Yangyang’s.

Renjun takes a little more, tilts his head the slightest bit, gives the faintest slide of his tongue, and when Yangyang makes a noise in the back of his throat—pleased, curious, Renjun can’t tell—he pulls away, lets go of Yangyang entirely. Yangyang looks at him like he’s coming back to his body, maybe. Like he’s seeing Renjun for the first time all over again. Something Renjun can’t quite place. Renjun only hopes it’s not regret.

His lips are shiny, pinker than they were, but not enough to get that real look, the one you get when you’ve been kissed well, when your lips are swollen and achy and well loved. If anyone saw Yangyang right now, they’d suspect nothing. Renjun unfortunately now has the mental image of Yangyang if he were to be kissed silly in his brain. Pretty, he would be. Curse Renjun’s imagination.

“So?” Renjun prompts. He can hear his heart thumping between his ears now. Oh, he thinks. That’s me. Why is that me? “Was it everything you hoped for?”

Yangyang smiles, shrugs like he’s thinking about it. “It was a kiss,” he says. Stupid. Renjun doesn’t know what he wants him to say. If there should be more. “Your lips are soft.”

Renjun laughs. Stupid. ”Chapstick.”

”Chapstick,” Yangyang repeats with a laugh of his own. “Noted.”

And then he slips his hand into Renjun's, drags him the rest of the way down the block, and Renjun can hardly even hear his goodbye over the thump, thump, thump in his chest, ringing all the way up to his ears.

* * *

So Renjun kisses Yangyang and the world still spins.

Things are usually, perfectly, normally normal. They text a minimal amount—although the amount of memes Yangyang sends during work hours does increase—and they see each other at Jaemin and Jeno’s again, and Mark is there this time and Renjun finds he cares less than he expected when Mark shares that Johnny got everything sorted with his days off, so he’s actually coming to visit soon, just before Mark leaves so they can go home together.

That’s awesome, Renjun said as Yangyang slid a hand over Renjun’s leg, paused just shy of his thigh and gave a light squeeze. It’ll be a lot of fun, he added, focused entirely on the heat of Yangyang’s palm then.

Tonight is bowling. Renjun actually hates bowling, but it was Jisung’s idea, and Renjun has a hard time denying Jisung of anything, and plus—Mark’s leaving soon. Two weeks, nearly less. Which means two more weeks of bringing Yangyang around, and Renjun is committed, thank you very much, so turning down any plans right now would not be optimal in keeping this up. They’re almost at the end now; the final sprint. Go big or go home or whatever.

Me: outside

baby <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3: running late :( do you mind comin g up

Renjun doesn’t mind, but he does wish there had been a slight warning for the way Yangyang’s entire friend group is over, because he knocks on the door once, and the door swings open immediately, and—

“Hendery?”

“Renjun!”

And Dejun, and Kun, and Ten, and Sicheng, and—oh, this is just more awkward than Renjun anticipated. There’s something a little shameful about facing a group of people that know you’re pretending to date their friend. A very unique experience, Renjun is sure.

“Yangyang’s almost ready,” Hendery informs him. He reaches out and carefully drags Renjun in, shutting the door behind him. “He takes his appearance really seriously, though. Especially for bowling.”

“That’s fine,” Renjun says slowly. He laughs because he thinks it’s a joke. When he wanders a little deeper into the living room, he gives an awkward wave, “Hey, guys.”

“If it isn’t my good friend who only comes over for my roommate now,” Dejun says gravely. Bella doesn’t even move to greet him, too snug in her spot next to Dejun and Sicheng. The traitor. “Hi.”

“Aw, don’t be mean, Dejun,” Ten teases. He’s lying with his legs across Kun’s lap, comfortable, like he lives here. He pulls away from where he’d been typing at his phone, looking directly at Renjun with a grin as he adds, “It’s young love.”

“It’s actually not real—”

“How’s that been going, by the way?” Hendery asks, and he pulls Renjun a little further into the apartment, forcing him into the armchair while he sits on the floor, lounges on his side and props his head up like he’s really interested in everything Renjun’s about to say.

“What?” Renjun laughs. He looks around the room, five pairs of nosy, curious eyes staring back at him. It’s only mildly intimidating. “Fake—dating Yangyang?”

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad of a boyfriend is he?” Sicheng prompts. He explains, casually, “We were taking bets. Is he romantic or kinda detached?”

“They were taking bets,” Kun emphasizes. He gestures to the side of the room he and Ten are not on, then crosses his arms. “We’re staying out of it.”

“No, I also was in on the bet,” Ten informs him, and Kun actually looks a little wounded. “Sorry, love you. So—?”

Renjun shrugs, an awkward, nervous laugh escaping him. He thinks about the kiss for a singular, brief moment, and then doesn’t think about anything at all. He clears his throat. “He’s fine,” he says.

“Fine?” Dejun frowns.

“Chenle says he’s ‘lowkey obsessed with you, in a weird way,’” Kun says. “His exact words, not mine.”

“Oh?” Ten laughs, incredulous. He kicks a foot at Kun’s thigh. “And what happened to staying out of it, honey?”

“Aiyah, I wasn’t—” Kun stops, huffs. Wraps a hand around Ten’s ankle and keeps it in place. “I’m just relaying information.”

“He’s not obsessed with me,” Renjun corrects. He thinks about it for a minute and then gets a bit squirmy. “Also, why is Chenle like, talking about us so much? I mean, I guess it’s a good thing if he believes—”

“Ok, I’m here,” Yangyang emerges from the hallway towards his room, huffs like he was really rushing despite the fact that he’s sort of dressed the same as he always is, except maybe his hair is just—a touch neater, and he then frowns when he sees everybody. “You guys can stop embarrassing me now.”

“You already do that on your own,” Dejun says. He picks up his phone and starts scrolling, unbothered, other hand going to scratch around Bella’s ears. “You don’t need us for that.”

“Ok, whatever,” Yangyang mumbles, and then he reaches for Renjun, still seated, pulls at his arm to get him up. “We’re leaving.”

“Oh, wait,” Renjun suddenly remembers, glancing over his shoulder as Yangyang hurries him to the door, “did you ask them about next weekend?”

“Next weekend?” Hendery perks up. Renjun can basically see his metaphorical tail wagging and everything. “What’s next weekend?”

“He didn’t, clearly,” Dejun says, scowling as he looks up. He looks directly at Yangyang as he repeats, “What is next weekend?”

“I was going to, I just haven’t had the chance yet,” Yangyang groans. They stop at the doorway and Yangyang rolls his eyes. “Also, you guys probably don’t even wanna come—”

Sicheng looks around, eyes wide, frowning. “You didn’t ask us, how would you know?”

“I’m just saying, it’s—”

“Are you scared we really will embarrass you or something?” Ten asks. Smiles with all his perfectly straight teeth, all evil. “Aw, baby, you know we wouldn’t—”

“No, ok, we’re going out next weekend for like, um,” Yangyang pauses, like he’s trying to figure out the least ridiculous, least pathetic way of phrasing this. Renjun, unfortunately, gets it. “Mark Lee is leaving and bringing his… new, American boyfriend, and it’s supposed to be a whole thing, and they told me to extend the invite to you guys. So, if you want—”

“Oh,” Dejun says slowly. Drags out the vowel. “Is this like—” he waves his hand, “the grand finale?”

“Grand finale?” Renjun repeats. Frowns. “Of what?”

“You guys?” Sicheng offers. He elaborates, “I mean, you’re not like, staying together. So.”

“Oh.” Renjun nods. “Uh. Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Not like we’re like, staging a breakup there or anything,” Yangyang corrects. He glances at Renjun, a little nervous look on his face. Like he’s unsure. “Unless?”

“I wanna come,” Ten decides. He rolls his wrists towards the ceiling, escapes from Kun’s grasp around his ankles and stretches his legs out a little more. “Kun never wants to go out anymore now that he’s old, so.”

“Same age as you,” Kun reminds him. He rolls his eyes. “You don’t ask me to go out.”

“Oh,” Ten scoffs, “so it’s my fault that we’re no longer cool?”

“Now you’re putting words in my mouth,” Kun says, pouts a little, too. Ten sinks deeper into the couch and smiles to himself like he really achieved something here, like he was trying to annoy him on purpose.

“Last time I went out, I was way overserved,” Sicheng says. He frowns, like he’s remembering something, and then shrugs. “I guess I‘m in.”

“We’re not breaking up there, for the record,” Renjun feels the need to clarify. He swears he can see Yangyang deflate a little. “It will be a normal night out.”

“I’m also in,” Hendery agrees. He rolls onto his back to look at Dejun behind him on the couch. Raises an eyebrow in a silent question.

“Stop looking at me,” is all Dejun says.

“Ok, well,” Yangyang starts, gently starts pulling Renjun the rest of the way to the door, “we’re leaving. Enjoy… whatever it is you’re all doing.”

“We just wanted to see you off tonight. Our baby. All grown up with a fake boyfriend and everything,” Ten says. “And I wanted to see your cat. Where is he?”

“Stayng far away from you,” Yangyang quips. “Don’t wait up.”

“Renjun-ssi, have him home by eleven!” Ten adds with a cackle. Just as the door closes, Renjun can hear Hendery tack on, “use protection,” followed by a groan from who Renjun assumes is Kun, or maybe it’s Dejun.

When the door clicks shut, Yangyang shakes his head, as if mentally erasing the last two minutes or something. “They’re annoying,” is all he says.

“They’re funny,” Renjun tries to assure him. “I haven’t seen them in a while. Besides Dejun, obviously.”

“Lucky you,” he mumbles, and when they wait for the elevator, Renjun gets a good look at Yangyang, and oh, yeah, he definitely spent more time on his hair than usual.

Renjun is endeared, for whatever reason, just the slightest bit.

“Yeah, lucky me,” he says absentmindedly.

He takes in the rest of Yangyang then, his still baggy jeans and still dangly earrings, but also the slope of his nose and the smooth skin on the delicate curve of his cheek and then when the elevator arrives with a ding he looks to Yangyang’s eyes, finds they’re already looking right back at him, and sort of feels like he’s got the wind knocked out of him.

“You look—nice,” Renjun says. Surprises himself. Seems to surprise Yangyang, too.

“Thanks,” Yangyang says, and he’s got blush on his cheeks to his ears, Renjun notices because he goes looking for it specifically.

Cute.

* * *

Because Renjun’s been sliding on that slippery slope, Johnny Suh is probably the most likable person on the face of the planet. Like, there’s Mark, kind and personable and polite, and then somehow, even eons ahead of him, there’s Johnny, who’s just as kind and personable and polite, and also fears nothing, not even an entire group of strangers, one of whom is your boyfriend’s pathetic ex, meeting for the first time in a loud, cramped, sweaty club, picked out carefully by Donghyuck, obviously.

“Wow, it’s actually annoying how nice he is. He’s so cool,” Ten marvels over the bass of the music once the initial introductions had been done, Renjun huddled in the corner with Yangyang and his friends, solely because his own were tasked with getting the first round, on Mark. “Kun, don’t look at him for too long. He’s like, cooler than me, even. I don’t like it.”

“Sure, fine,” Kun says with a laugh. He makes a face that Ten somehow does not catch. “Totally ignoring him, then.”

Despite the sarcasm, Ten seems pleased. “Good boy,” he says, and Sicheng rolls his eyes behind their back, which Renjun kinda can’t help but agree with.

“If it’s any consolation, I think Renjun is nicer and cooler,” Hendery says, just because he’s a good sport probably. He reaches around Dejun to give Renjun a solid pat on the back. “Right, Yangyang?”

“Right,” Yangyang agrees easily. He throws a hand of his own out, aiming for what Renjun assumes is just his waist, but settles almost a little too low, nearing his ass instead. He keeps it there. “Duh.”

“This is weird,” Dejun declares, gesturing at them. He shakes his head. “This is so weird.”

“We have an image to upkeep around here,” Yangyang tells him, scolding a little. “So like, don’t blow it for us.”

“I hate it,” Dejun adds. He’s frowning with his entire face, really. “I think I need a shot. Who wants shots?”

Sicheng agrees—despite his last night out, apparently—and obviously Hendery tags along, and when it’s just the four of them left, Ten prodding at Kun to personally list reasons why he’s better than Mark’s boyfriend, Yangyang slides his hand away from where it’d previously been, squeezing at Renjun’s side once instead.

“Hey,” he says, carefully, “you ok?”

“Me? I’m fine,” Renjun says, a touch too quickly, maybe, because he thinks about it a second longer and then adds, “I mean. It’s just—weird, I think. Seeing Mark… totally moved on.”

“Ah.” Yangyang nods. He looks dejected, a little—disappointed, maybe. Annoyed? He couldn’t be. “It’s easier to forget that he’s got a boyfriend when he’s just like, a name in stories, rather than an actual person in front of you. I get it.”

“Right,” Renjun says.

He didn’t think he’d care so much about Johnny Suh and Mark Lee, or the way Mark laughs so easily around him, the way he moves so comfortably with him, the way he used to laugh like with Renjun, used to be with Renjun. But now Renjun has this weird, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, and Mark is leaving soon, and all this will be over, sure, but will Renjun ever really get over it?

“I’ll be fine,” Renjun assures him. He shrugs. “Sorry, I’ll stop being—weird.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Yangyang says gently.

His voice is quiet, but they’re close enough that Renjun can hear him over the music somehow. The last time they were this close, they kissed. Yangyang’s lips were soft, but he wonders if they’d be any softer now, or if they’d taste like the cocktail he ordered, or if he’d kiss Renjun like he actually means it this time.

“Let’s just—have fun, yeah?” Yangyang tries. “Just you and me tonight. The best boyfriend you’ve ever had, remember?”

He holds out his hand, inviting, palm open, warm, gives Renjun a grin.

“Ok, sure,” Renjun agrees, sliding his hand in to fit against Yangyang’s. “You and me.”

Fake boyfriend echoes somewhere deep in Renjun’s subconscious, a reminder, and this time, again, he doesn’t even bother saying it out loud.

* * *

It’s kinda the most fun Renjun’s had in a while. The music is decent, and his friends are all in a good mood, and the shots Dejun ended up making everyone take loosened everybody up, even like, Jisung, who would normally rather let the ground open up and swallow him whole than have to dance in front of other people in public.

Honestly, Renjun is having such a good time he even sort of forgets about being upset about the whole Mark and Johnny thing entirely. I mean, it’s not easy to completely ignore, given the fact they’re both literally right there, but Renjun’s friends are, too, and Yangyang and his friends, and it’s—it feels nice. Easy. Normal. Natural again, even when Yangyang pulled him stupidly close during one song, a joke, though the way Yangyang’s eyes seemed to darken a little didn’t seem like a joke, seemed more like—like he wanted it to happen.

Which would be—weird. Because this is fake.

It’s later in the night when it gets weirder. When things get a little messier, when the drinks sort of catch up with everyone, which means Jaemin’s got Jeno pinned to a wall with his mouth all over him, and Mark is dancing a touch too close to Johnny, lost in their own world, and Kun and Ten called a cab some half hour ago or so, and Yangyang is—not here.

He said he was going to grab water. That was like, at least ten minutes ago now. He should be back, Renjun’s pretty sure. Unless he got—no. Renjun doesn’t care. Should he care? Why does he kinda care?

“Hey,” Renjun spins Donghyuck around from where he’s dancing with Chenle to face him instead, “I’m going to find Yangyangie. He hasn’t come back, so.”

“Sure,” Donghyuck says with a shrug. He’s still dancing. Grins a little, slimy, as he adds, “I won’t wait up.”

Renjun rolls his eyes, but retreats, heads in the general direction of the bar, scanning the crowd for Yangyang’s bleached head of hair, shoving down the weird feeling he has in his gut. He doesn’t care, he just—doesn’t think anyone should be left alone in a bar, and like, Hendery offered to go with him, why didn’t he—ah. He spots him then.

Blond hair, baggy jeans, awkward, shy smile on his face as he—he’s talking to a guy. A dude, a real actual man, tall, and handsome, and so clearly flirting, and Yangyang—there’s no way he doesn’t know.

Renjun watches for a minute. The guy is saying a lot, Yangyang mostly nodding, keeping his expression neutral. Mystery Man is kind of close. You could chalk it up to the obnoxious music blaring through the club speakers, but Renjun knows every trick in the goddamn book, and that—I mean, he’s sure Yangyang knows that, too.

Yangyang’s hands are at his sides, safe for the one hand he’s got around his cup, and if Renjun looks hard enough, he can see the grip he’s got on it, like he’s nervous. Like this guy is making him nervous. A good kind of nervous? Something weird settles in Renjun’s gut. Heavy. Anxious. There’s no way Yangyang doesn’t know. Would he have stayed, though, if he did know? Does he want to flirt with somebody? When—Renjun and all his friends are right there?

He swallows his pride and marches over. Doesn’t think too hard about it beyond the fact that they’re supposed to be dating, and Chenle or Jeno or god forbid, Mark, could waltz over at any moment, see Yangyang yucking it up with some guy, and it could be totally over. And they made it this far, Renjun isn’t about to give up now.

And that’s the only reason. Doesn’t have to do with that odd feeling filling out from his stomach to his chest, doesn’t really have to do with how Renjun feels about Yangyang at all. Wait—what does he even feel about Yangyang?

“There you are, baby.” Renjun slides up behind him, linking his hands around Yangyang’s body, resting somewhere along his torso. Possessive. Claiming. He smiles, hopefully not as uncomfortable as he feels, “Get lost or something?”

“Renjun-ah,” Yangyang says on an exhale, smiles at him for real now, Renjun can tell by the way his face relaxes, the way it reaches his eyes. “I got, uh, held up,” he says. Gestures to Mystery Man and then to Renjun and says very casually, “my boyfriend. See?”

The guy nods. Skeptical, for whatever reason, which pisses Renjun off even more. Renjun doesn’t feel like sticking around to try and prove anything further. They’ve had Renjun’s actual friends fooled for a solid month now, thank you very much.

“Yangyang,” Renjun says next, puts on his sweetest voice, too. He feels Yangyang’s hands come over his own, Yangyang’s thumb sweeping over the back of Renjun’s hand. Sends a teeny, tiny spark throughout Renjun’s whole body. “I’m tired. I think I wanna head out.”

A lie. Renjun’s having fun, and his friends are having fun, and he hardly feels like he’s rubbed Yangyang in Mark Lee’s face enough. He could probably stay here for another hour at least. But now he can’t stop the ugly, sinking, possessive feeling clawing its way through his chest, and he doesn’t know why, but he knows he wants Yangyang away from this guy, or actually, maybe away from anybody who might look at him for a second too long, look at him and want him.

“Ok,” Yangyang says, anyway. Easily. Of course. “Let’s, um, head home.”

He says something to Mystery Man, a goodbye, Renjun assumes, probably polite and packed with an apology that Renjun doesn’t care about. He has the same feeling as before; the same feeling as when they first got here, and Renjun saw Johnny Suh, saw his hand in Mark’s and then felt Yangyang’s in his own, a fleeting touch by comparison, fake, temporary, and felt like he was drowning. It’s too hot, all of a sudden. He needs to go home.

“I’m sorry,” Yangyang says when they’re far enough away. He ducks in to say it directly to Renjun, lips nearly brushing against his ear. Renjun suppresses a chill. “He was—he caught me on my way back and started to flirt with me, and I did try to stop, but like, wow. Guys can be pushy.”

“It’s fine, I just… didn’t want Mark or someone to see. Would’ve blown our cover,” Renjun says. He forces a smile. Doesn’t tell him about how awful it made him feel, how weirdly possessive it turned him. Jokes instead, “You figured out he was flirting with you at least. Congratulations.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Yangyang says with a laugh. A bit defeated. Then, carefully, “You called me baby, by the way.”

Yangyang stops walking, pulls Renjun to a stop, too, a careful tug at his hand. Because he’s still holding him, fingers sweetly intertwined, connected. He’s looking at Renjun the same way he did after he kissed him. Renjun wants to do it again. Wants to lean in and slide their lips together, maybe his tongue, too. Itches for it.

“And?” Renjun tilts his head. “That’s—we’re supposed to.”

“I know.” Yangyang shrugs. He laughs a little, shifting on his feet. “You just never have before.”

There’s a lot Renjun hasn’t done before. A lot they haven’t done together. Things they never will, never should, because in a week or so this will be over, and it’ll be a memory, a weird one, seared into Renjun’s brain forever along with the way Yangyang’s lips felt against his own.

And it’s because of that, the elusive, short-lived feeling that Renjun says, “Take me home?”

“Ok,” Yangyang says. His lips twitch into a tiny smile. Normal, natural, easy. Of course.

* * *

Yangyang’s lips are just as smooth now as they were the first time. Now, though, now he’s ready for the kiss, nearly hungry for it, tastes like vodka and so distinctly him, Renjun feels like he’s almost drunk off that more than any of the drinks he had at the bar.

And Yangyang’s still nervous, too. Less so than he was, but Renjun can tell he’s being careful, calculated, kisses Renjun one way, waits for the feedback before he tries it again, better, with more purpose, more want. His hands are at Renjun’s waist like they belong there, palms fit against the dip of his body so perfectly, it makes Renjun press in closer, want more, see where else they fit.

“Is this—” They pull apart, breathless, just for a moment, “good?”

He looks worse than he did the other day. Now, his lips are rubbed redder, slicker, and he’s got an unmistakable look in his eye, the same one he had on the dance floor before, or the same one when Renjun called him baby before, when Yangyang cared enough to note it. It makes Renjun feel needed, feel alive.

“It’s good,” Renjun confirms. He presses Yangyang impossibly closer to the counter they’re up against—they’re only in Yangyang’s kitchen, god—and slots his leg between Yangyang’s, just barely. “Are you—”

“It’s good, Renjun,” he confirms. Nods so fast Renjun feels like his head’s gonna fall off. He laughs a little before he attaches his lips to Yangyang’s neck, presses his leg up a little, gets rewarded with a tiny, broken moan from somewhere deep in Yangyang’s chest. Feels Yangyang grind back against him, the slightest pressure. “So good,” he manages.

Renjun likes the way he sounds like that. A little broken up, wrung out. Wonders what he can do to make him sound even worse. Wrecked.

He sucks a mark into the side of Yangyang’s neck, bites a little, revels in the string of swear words it takes out of him next. Mumbled, under Yangyang’s breath, like it’s only for himself, like he can’t believe what’s happening. Renjun can’t say he himself expected this, but sometimes—sometimes the only way to squash the terrible, anxious, ugly feeling in your stomach is to give into the ache, to see if it’s enough to satiate the need, just this once.

“What do you want?” Renjun asks, careful, trails a few more kisses up Yangyang’s jaw, kisses at the corner of his mouth. Yangyang goes chasing his lips, catches him in one, two, three kisses before Renjun stops them again. “Am I going too fast?”

“You’re not—“ Yangyang swallows hard around nothing. Renjun traces the movement in his throat. “No. I want. Want whatever. I don’t know, Renjun, what do you want?”

There’s a lot Renjun wants. This, mainly. Right now. Yangyang, however he’ll have him. Now, or in the future.

“Dangerous,” Renjun tsks. Yangyang hands flex, fingers dig a little deeper into Renjun, he can feel it even through the material of his shirt. Renjun wants to feel Yangyang’s fingers dig directly into his skin. Leave a mark there, maybe. Not yet, but soon. “Whatever I want?”

“Yes,” Yangyang says easily. Renjun’s teasing, mostly. But Yangyang is so earnest, so honest when he adds, “I trust you.”

Renjun feels his heart skip a beat. Strangely. Awfully.

“Ok,” he says despite himself. Kisses Yangyang again, slides his tongue into his mouth this time and when Yangyang groans, Renjun makes up his mind. “That. Wanna see how many more pretty sounds I can get out of you.”

“Oh, fuck,” Yangyang swears, laughs a little like he’s beside himself. “That’s like—“

Yangyang stops, cut short when Renjun replaces his leg with the heel of his palm, presses against where Yangyang is already hard, already aching for it. He moans. Pretty again. Renjun could kinda get used to that.

“What’s this?” Renjun laughs at him. Just a little, just to tease. Applies a touch more pressure as he asks, “So hard already for me, Yangyang? I hardly touched you.”

“Can you not—“ Yangyang swallows again, like his throat is dry, like he’s overheated and dizzy. The same way Renjun sort of feels, he guesses. “That’s embarrassing.”

Renjun hums, undoes the button and zipper on Yangyang’s jeans and shrugs. “It’s hot,” he tells him. Kisses him with too much tongue again, slides his hand into Yangyang’s pants to get a better feel. Yangyang gasps again, a sharp breath into Renjun’s mouth.

His hands are gripping the counter behind him now, knuckles almost white with the force of it. Once Renjun is satisfied with the amount of over the clothes fondling he’s done, satisfied with the way Yangyang is almost vibrating with urgency against him, he drags his fingers up to the waistband of Yangyang’s boxers instead, digs in just a little.

“Can I?”

“Yes.” Yangyang exhales. “You’re asking me if you can touch my dick. Why would I say no?”

“Consent’s important,” Renjun mumbles. “That’s the same no matter what. Idiot.”

“I know that, but you’re—“

Yangyang doesn’t finish. Moans again, louder than he had, head dipping back as he stares at the ceiling. Renjun’s hand grabs hold of his cock, drags his thumb through the precum at the tip, but he watches Yangyang’s face, the way he blinks like he’s trying to come back to himself, the way he pants a little through a shaky breath, so obviously trying to keep it together.

“Fuck,” Renjun swears, low, can’t help it. He gives an experimental stroke and positively preens at the reaction it gets out of Yangyang. Renjun, he’s mumbling, in the prettiest voice Renjun’s ever had the pleasure of hearing, Renjun, god, fuck.

“What are we gonna do with you?” Renjun asks. Taunts. “You’re big, Yangyang. Your cock.”

Yangyang laughs at that—nervous, strained.

“You think you know how to use it?”

“I know how to use it,” Yangyang tells him. Whines. A bit bratty. Renjun kinda wants to eat him. “I’ve—I’ve done it before.”

“Not with another guy,” Renjun reminds him. Possessive. Awful, clawing, sinking. Because Renjun was the first guy he kissed, and now this—Yangyang’s trusting him with this, too. “What if I wanted you to fuck me? Right now. Could you do it?”

“Oh, my god.” Yangyang says, groans, releases the counter and pulls Renjun in by the face, kisses him wet and messy. Says, still against his lips, “If you showed me. If you tell me how you like it. How I should do it, then I could.”

Renjun feels like he’s been struck by lightning. A man possessed. Lit up like a livewire as he drops to his knees now, tugs down the rest of Yangyang’s pants, cock springing free and in Renjun’s hands again in seconds.

“Good boy,” Renjun tells him. Mindless, but it gets a pretty good moan out of Yangyang because of course it does. “Not gonna have you do that now, though.”

“Bummer,” Yangyang says. Sounds like he’s trying to play it cool but he might really mean it. “Next time?”

“Optimistic of you.” Renjun clicks his tongue. Brushes it off, because he doesn’t want to think about next time, not when there shouldn’t be one, shouldn’t even be this now. He leans closer to Yangyang’s cock, glances up through his lashes as he checks, “Ok?”

They’re still in Yangyang’s kitchen, and Renjun’s still entirely clothed, and Yangyang is still looking at him like he’s never wanted anything more.

“Uh huh,” Yangyang nods. Dazed in a way, but so laser focused on Renjun it’s like Yangyang’s seeing him right down to his insides, finding him on some other, distant level more than anything else. “Are you gonna. Um.”

“Gonna what?” Renjun teases—it’s fun to, when it’s Yangyang, Renjun’s learning. He’s cute, squirmy. Renjun slides his hand up and down the length of Yangyang’s cock again, easily. He can’t stop fucking leaking. It’s insane. It’s making Renjun feel insane. “Suck you off? Is that what you want?”

“I want whatever you want,” Yangyang says again, very brave, Renjun might add. “There’s so much. Holy fuck, Renjun, you’re so—“

He pauses. Holds Renjun’s stare, but doesn’t say anything else. Squirms a little more, huffs a breath, shakes his head.

“So what?” Renjun prompts. Annoying, crazy, such a tease, Renjun thinks. Fills in the blank himself.

“Pretty,” Yangyang says instead. Hesitant. Even more so as he adds, “Really—beautiful.”

“Flirt,” Renjun accuses him. Because he doesn’t know what else to say. Because it feels too real, a little cut open and raw, and Renjun doesn’t like it.

“Is it flirting if I mean—“ He shuts Yangyang up again. This time, his mouth, lips pressed gingerly to the head of his cock with a kiss, open mouthed, then another on the side, and one more further down. “Holy shit. Why are you—you can’t go that slow, teasing isn’t gonna—I’m not gonna like, last.”

“It’s fun teasing you,” Renjun tells him. Cruel, just a little, deliciously so. “You’re sensitive.”

“I’m—stupidly hard.”

Renjun laughs. “I thought you said I get to do whatever I want with you.”

“I did,” Yangyang confirms. He laughs back. “I just didn’t think you’d be so mean about it.”

“Do you like mean?” Renjun tries. Tilts his head, looks up at him with those eyes he’s perfected, innocent without the actual innocence. He presses his mouth over the tip of Yangyang’s cock, around him for real this time, flattens his tongue beneath it.

“Fuck, oh my—“

“Yangyang,” Renjun says. He hardly pulls away. Spit and sticky as he keeps his mouth close to Yangyang, still practically connected. “You like it or not?”

“I do,” Yangyang says. Like it pains him. He reaches out, hesitant, puts a gentle hand through Renjun’s hair. Fingers barely grazing his scalp. “I think I’d like you however which way.”

“That’s good,” Renjun says. Pleased. Because it’s easy with Yangyang. Of course, it is.

He takes Yangyang in his mouth again a little deeper, eases up and down, glances up to make sure Yangyang’s still watching him. Yangyang is still whining, and one of his hands is still in Renjun’s hair, holding, but not hurting, not grabbing and taking like Renjun wishes. Slow, he has to remind himself. They need to go slow, for Yangyang, if he wants this to—

“Renjun, fuck.” Renjun’s hardly taken in the full length of him. Barely gotten started, because Renjun is actually pretty good at this, he doesn’t wanna brag, but he’s got a pretty decent track record when it comes to sucking dick, he could give Yangyang more if he let him. “I’m going to—come. Like, actually.”

Renjun pulls off, replaces his mouth with his hand, tightens his hold as he moves. “Yeah?” he asks. Taunts, teases. “Let me see then. Come on, baby.”

“Renjun—“

He takes Yangyang in his mouth for the last time, doesn’t even make it halfway now before Yangyang comes, hot and hard and fast, says Renjun’s name a thousand times over, eyes not leaving him once. It’s impressive, honestly. Renjun swallows, if only because he’s trying to put on a little show for Yangyang, if only because the reaction it gets him is well worth it.

“Oh, my god,” he pants. Watches intently as Renjun wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, licks his lips. “I wasn’t supposed to—I don’t usually, uh. Finish that fast.”

“That’s ok,” Renjun tells him. Means it, anyway. “I liked it.”

Yangyang makes another pained noise—whiny, Renjun’s favorite sound, he thinks—and scrambles to get Renjun up, kisses him messy once, hardly enough to call it a real kiss and then directs him by his hips to where his couch is, pushes until Renjun’s back hits the cushions and Yangyang’s on top of him, lips on his again.

It’s desperate, still a bit messy, and Yangyang’s tongue is digging into his mouth so deep it’s like he’s trying to taste himself there, and it makes Renjun feel crazier, hungrier, needier. Yangyang’s hands are at his hips, pushing the fabric of his shirt up, cold fingers grazing over the sensitive skin at the bottom of Renjun’s belly.

“Can I try?” Yangyang asks now, the question muffled somewhere into the skin is Renjun’s neck, followed by a bite to his shoulder. “Try and make you feel good?”

Renjun’s hard. Has been, for a while now, since maybe when he felt Yangyang already was, too, and definitely since Yangyang had finished, too soon and too embarrassing, and so, so hot.

“Ok,” Renjun allows. “Yeah. Want that.”

“Want it bad,” Yangyang agrees, says it to himself, mostly, and then with a surprising amount of confidence he undoes Renjun’s jeans, tugs them off a little and then pulls off his own shirt, tosses it to the side, shakes his hair out a little when he does.

Cute, Renjun thinks. Eyes the lean shape of his arms, the subtle muscle in his abdomen, the scar on his shoulder, and wants to feel it under his lips, all of it, mouth from his collarbones over his nipples to the hem of whatever ridiculous pair of jeans he has on then. So cute.

“I’m gonna—“ Yangyang gestures between them. To the bulge in Renjun’s underwear. He finishes, “You know.”

“Right,” Renjun says. Can’t help but laugh just a little. “All yours, baby.”

Yangyang kinda chokes at that, a punched out kinda moan, but then he’s leaning back down, takes Renjun in another kiss, mouth barely moving once he slides his hand into Renjun’s bottoms, grabbing hold of his cock. He’s nervous, Renjun can tell, even more so than their first kiss, even more so than when Renjun had been on his knees for him.

“Relax,” Renjun tells him, nudges his face to the side and kisses at his temple. “You’re fine, Yangyang. You can’t mess up or anything, it’s just me.”

“I could, though,” Yangyang counters. He squeezes his hand the smallest bit, but stays still otherwise. “I could like, break your dick.”

“You’re not gonna break my dick.” Renjun rolls his eyes, shifts a little so he can tug his pants down further, sticks his hand next to Yangyang’s, to show him. “Like this.”

Yangyang replicates the movement, watches Renjun closely for approval, a nod, a hitch in his breath, anything.

“That’s good,” Renjun tells him. Adds, “Think of how you touch yourself. Do whatever you do. You get off?”

“Yes,” Yangyang scoffs. He twists his wrist a different way now, good enough that Renjun bucks his hips up a little, chasing it. He does it again, more deliberate this time, and Renjun lets out a tiny noise. Yangyang’s getting more comfortable now, especially as he adds, “Thought of this before. One time I was—you know. By myself. Thought of you.”

“Yangyang.” It startles an actual moan out of him. “You can’t say shit like that, oh, my god.”

“Sorry,” Yangyang says, doesn’t mean it at all, Renjun knows. He settles a little further down Renjun’s body, pushes his shirt up more with his free hand and kisses somewhere along his ribs. Tickles. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m—you know.”

“Jerking me off?” Renjun huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, me neither. You can go faster, by the way.”

“Yes sir,” Yangyang mumbles, stupid, presses his lips to Renjun’s torso again, but does listen, picks up the pace the best the weird angle allows. “It feels good?”

“Good, yeah,” Renjun confirms. It feels—wonderfully average, actually. Yangyang is nervous and he’s distracted every time he decides he’d rather suck a mark into Renjun’s skin, but he wants Renjun, lets Renjun know he wants him, tries, wants to do well, and so it makes it all the better. “You’re a fast learner, Yangyang. Listen well. So sweet.”

Yangyang makes a noise, something between protest and pleasure. Renjun stores it away for later. Later, he almost asks himself, what later, before he doesn’t think of anything else at all.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “I’m not even—I’m not even doing anything, I should be—“

“No, it’s good,” Renjun tells him. He holds Yangyang by the shoulders, brings him back up so he can kiss him again, a little slower this time. Yangyang goes slack, slows his pace in his hand and Renjun takes the opportunity to fuck up, into the tight grip Yangyang’s got around him, and moans now, loud. “Fuck.”

“Oh,” Yangyang says. He’d hardly even done anything. “Are you—“

“Kiss me again,” Renjun tells him, so he does, listens easily, without any second thought. Tongue and teeth and Renjun fucking into Yangyang’s fist again, and again, and again, like he needs it.

And it will be hard to come back from, Renjun thinks, to forget the way Yangyang tastes on his tongue, the noises he lets out so generously, the earnest look in his eye and the determination to do well, to make Renjun feel good. It will be near impossible, probably. Something Renjun could have thought about before he let that hideous, mean monster claw through from his chest, possessive and greedy.

Possessive and greedy still, as he continuously fucks himself using Yangyang’s fist, and Yangyang, he’s just—watching now, doesn’t move beyond tightening his grip every now and then, pressing his mouth to whatever skin he can reach. Kisses, bites, soothes.

“God, you’re hot,” Yangyang mumbles after a particularly loud moan rips its way out of Renjun, his body arching off the couch beautifully. “Are you almost—”

“Close, yeah,” Renjun says, nods a bit frantically but he doesn’t care, he’s nearly aching for it, for release, for Yangyang to be a part of it. Feel special himself. “Can you touch—oh. Tighten your hand. Can you—“

Yangyang listens, moves his hand slowly to start jerking Renjun off again, too, puts a mouth on Renjun’s nipple, teeth to the skin.

“Fuck.”

Renjun’s got a grip on one of Yangyang’s shoulders, his nails digging into the skin there slightly. He’s solid under him, and he’s warm, and he pushes up into the touch the slightest bit like he wants more, like he likes the sting of it or something. It makes Renjun feel crazier. Flashes images in his mind of Yangyang’s whole back like that—red and angry and marked up, or his neck, or his torso, or his thighs, smooth, endearingly paler than the rest of him, and he’s so—

“Yangyang, fuck,” Renjun swears. Yangyang looks at him with such urgency, like he wants it so bad, wants Renjun to finish so bad, like he wants to be a part of it. Feel special.

“I know,” Yangyang says, nods, increases his pace a bit more. Renjun’s hardly moving anymore, just Yangyang, and the rub of his hand is a little uncomfortable, but it’s him, and so it feels so good. “You’re so fucking pretty, I wanna—“

Renjun doesn’t hear where he’s going with that—thinks it might be a blessing in disguise—because he comes then, body shaking, back arching up again, a gasp of air, a string of Yangyang, Yangyang, Yangyang, and then nothing, and then silence.

Yangyang kisses him as soon as he catches his breath. Gentle. Softer than he had been. Caring, like Renjun deserves to be cared for. It makes Renjun’s chest ache.

“Wow,” Yangyang says, barely pulled away, but eyes wide, fixed on Renjun’s. His hair is a mess. Lips swollen. He looks tired, and yet, unfairly cute, still. “You’re hot.”

Renjun manages a laugh. Tired. “You’re saying it like you just realized,” he teases. He doesn’t know what else to say.

What is he supposed to say?

“I didn’t,” Yangyang tells him. Honest, earnest again. He kisses his cheek now. The corner of his mouth. His nose. He scoffs. ”Huang Renjun, you have always been hot.”

Renjun laughs again, hopes the tiredness seeping in his bones is enough to wash away that awful feeling in his stomach. He’s sticky and he’s exhausted, physically and mentally, and he doesn’t know what else to say, what else he should say, what he should do next.

But Yangyang is looking at him like he just took all the stars out of the sky and hand delivered them, and they’re still close, and Renjun’s heart is beating so hard it feels like it might pop of his chest, but not in the nervous way, and Renjun doesn’t know what to do with that, what he should do.

“You got a shower?” he asks. Swallows it down. Normal, easy, casual. Of course. He can do that.

“Duh.”

It’s enough for now.

* * *

Renjun wakes up in Yangyang’s bed, with Yangyang next to him.

Not his finest, he supposes, but like, what’s a mutual handjob and then some between fake boyfriends, and plus it was late once they were finished—after the shower, and then after Yangyang got hard again and Renjun got him off a second time, after Yangyang made out with him until his lips felt raw—it wouldn’t have made any sense for Renjun to go home at that hour, anyway.

It doesn’t have to mean anything, anyway.

Yangyang is already awake next to him. Scrolling his phone with one hand, bedhead and sleepy eyes, and he’s shirtless still, and he’s got the faintest of two bruises at the base of his neck, and Renjun did that. His stomach flips. Renjun realizes with abject horror that the hand not holding his phone is also trapped beneath Renjun, his arm extended under Renjun’s torso, like they had fallen asleep like that, intertwined.

The worst part is, like most things with Yangyang, it feels oddly normal. Like everything with Yangyang these days. Like Renjun could wake up like this, everyday, for a while, maybe, and like it. It scares him.

“Hey,” Renjun greets him. Doesn’t really know the etiquette with a one night stand anymore, he hasn’t had one in years, and he certainly doesn’t know it when it’s—Liu Yangyang. He feels incredibly out of his depth, all of a sudden.

“Oh, hey, you’re up.” Yangyang smiles at him, tiny, shy. He drops his phone to his chest, hand underneath Renjun flexing a bit. “Honestly, before anything, um. My arm is like, falling asleep.”

“You could’ve moved,” Renjun chides, pushing himself up so Yangyang can retreat, embarrassed now, even more so than he was. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I didn’t wanna wake you,” Yangyang tells him. He shrugs, laughs a little, and then with the arm that had been previously squashed, he reaches out to tug Renjun into his space, Renjun falling half on his still very naked chest. He’s warm, and he’s pretty, and he’s real, sturdy under Renjun’s hands, even though it sort of feels like—some kind of fucked up, alternative reality, a dream. “You looked too peaceful.”

“You don’t seem like the type to normally care about something like that. In fact, you seem the opposite. Annoying,” Renjun teases, forces a laugh because he’s eye to eye with the hickeys on Yangyang’s neck, and feels a horrible twinge of guilt. Worse, a horrible twinge of possessiveness again.

“That’s because you still have a lot to learn about me, Renjun,” Yangyang says, and it sort of feels like a threat, settling into the air like a ticking time bomb. Because there’s—there’s no time to learn anything else, because Mark Lee is going back to New York soon, and then Renjun won’t have a reason to be with Yangyang anymore, and this will all be over.

“Right,” Renjun laughs, “so many layers to you. Multitudes, I’m sure.”

Yangyang hardly laughs back. Instead he just—stares, careful, like he’s trying to memorize Renjun like this or something. Sleepy and soft and satiated and here, in Yangyang’s bed. Renjun is acutely aware of Yangyang’s hand at the small of his back, fingertips drawing shapes through the material of the shirt that most definitely belongs to Yangyang. His stomach flips.

“What?” Renjun asks. Tries to sound threatening, although he’s fairly certain there’s a wave in his voice that betrays him. “Why are you—you’re staring. Don’t stare.”

“Sorry,” Yangyang apologizes. Grins. “I was just thinking about how high the probability of you letting me kiss you again might be.”

Renjun’s stomach flips again, then again, then twists. He feels dizzy. Stupidly, incredibly so.

He fights it, though, swallows it down and shoves it away to put next to the horrible, achy, possessive feeling lurking somewhere inside him, too. He shrugs. “Not high,” he says with a smile of his own, pushing out of Yangyang’s space, hands to his chest for leverage, feeling Yangyang’s heart thump under his palms once, then twice.

“I should get going,” he tells him. He should; because staying here will do more harm than good, staying here will tempt Renjun to let Yangyang kiss him again, and they can’t do that, shouldn’t do that, because this wasn’t real, they’re not real, and the last thing Renjun needs when he’s just nearly over Mark Lee is Liu Yangyang, totally not his type, totally annoying, totally—him.

“I guess you should,” Yangyang says. Reluctant. A bit petulant, even. “Donghyuck is probably wondering where you are, anyway.”

He’s smiling when he says it, like they both know Donghyuck doesn’t actually care, that he knows exactly where Renjun is, it’s just that now it’s—real. Now he’s here because they gave into a stupid temptation, and now Yangyang’s wearing two marks in the shape of Renjun’s lips, and Renjun’s wearing Yangyang’s shirt and a weird shade of guilt, of shame—and worst of all, of intrigue, deeper and more hidden, a feeling much lovelier than the rest that he doesn’t want to acknowledge right now.

“Probably,” Renjun agrees, anyway. Easier that way. He rolls out of Yangyang’s unwilling grasp, grabs his jeans, his phone, his wallet, pretends he doesn’t feel Yangyang’s eyes on him the whole time, and then when he goes to peel the shirt off, Yangyang stops him—

“It’s fine,” he says. Shrugs. He’s smiling, but pretending like he isn’t, playing it very cool and smug. “You can keep it. It’s cute.”

Renjun hates him. He’s annoying and a pain and Renjun—probably shouldn’t have made him take him home, and yet, he can’t fully find it in himself to think about the way Yangyang listened to him so well, whined so pretty, and regret it. Renjun might hate himself instead.

“Ok, I’m leaving then,” Renjun tells him. “I’ll text you later this week. Because Mark’s leaving. So we’ll have to… you know.”

“Break up,” Yangyang finishes. His voice is flat. Makes Renjun feel uneasy.

“Yeah,” Renjun says. Means it. Ignores the ticking time bomb between them just like he’s ignored everything else, because Mark Lee goes back to New York soon, and then this will all be over, and that—that has to be enough for now.

* * *

“We had an argument.”

“Vague. What kind of argument?”

Renjun thinks about it for a second. “I don’t know,” he says. “You? We could say you were too nosy. And ultimately drove us apart.”

“Absolutely not,” Dejun says. “Leave me out of it.”

“Ok,” Renjun draws a line through the row in his notebook, continuing, “we could say we were better as friends.”

“But you never were friends.”

“But we could be. We could have decided now.”

“That’s stupid,” Dejun tells him. “You would never be friends with Yangyang. You had your chance for years and never took it.”

“Alright, then.” Another line. “We could say we never had time for each other.”

“Renjun, are you serious?” Dejun laughs. Renjun doesn’t look at him, keeps his eyes trained on his notebook instead, but he can feel the judgemental look Dejun is giving him. “Yangyang shows up every time your friends make plans. Why would he not have time for you?”

“Maybe he was just using me for my friends.”

“Renjun.”

“Fine.” Renjun groans, crossing a more aggressive line through that suggestion, slumping down into the cushion of Dejun’s couch as he does. Hoping maybe it swallows him up and he disappears forever while he’s here. “Then I have nothing. I don’t know what to tell my friends. Would it be wrong to tell them that Yangyang just like, isn’t good in bed or something?’

At that, Dejun laughs, loud, just once. “Actually, that might be my favorite,” he says. Pauses. “But that’s sort of a bit like public humiliation, isn’t it?”

“I’m grasping at straws here, Dejun,” Renjun says, helpless. Because the problem with getting a fake boyfriend and lasting this long is having to come up with a fake reason as to why you need to break up. Somebody should’ve warned him about this.

“Seems like maybe you should’ve thought about that before you got yourself into this mess.” Dejun has the audacity to even laugh at him then. Because he’s evil and awful, probably. “You stayed over here the other night, by the way. Why did you do that?”

“What?” Renjun pales. Dejun wasn’t even here—too busy at Hendery’s, obviously—so how and why would he know? He shrugs, playing it very cool. “I didn’t.”

“Sicheng saw you guys leave together,” Dejun says. “He said it looked, and I quote, ‘sexually charged.’” “Sicheng did not say that.” Renjun rolls his eyes. “Sicheng was too busy—sexting that guy he’s sleeping with.”

“He can multitask,” Dejun says. He grins, evil, like he’s really won now. “And there’s no use lying because you left your entire shirt here, too. Pretty sure Yangyang still has it in his room.”

Renjun mentally curses himself. He knew he shouldn’t have kept Yangyang’s shirt on. That was—a stupid, spur of the moment, post sex induced decision.

He’s pretty sure Yangyang is out with Ten right now, anyway; maybe Renjun can slip into Yangyang’s to retrieve it before he leaves.

Dejun continues, “Did you—and I’m not asking for details here—but did you like. You know. Fuck Yangyang?”

“No,” Renjun says. Immediate. Not a total lie. Despite the fact that Renjun is definitely—presently sitting on the couch that he came into Yangyang’s hand on. “I didn’t.”

“You touched his dick, though,” Dejun tries. “You touched his dick, and he touched yours, and now you’re—you feel weird about it. And I’m right, because I’ve been right about this the whole time. Renjun—”

“Right about what this whole time?” Renjun asks instead, tries to deflect. He starts playing with the frayed edge of the little notebook he’s still holding, practically clutching for dear life at this point.

“You two,” Dejun says. Laughs, like it’s obviously. Like Renjun is ridiculous. “Renjun, I need you to be honest with yourself for a second. Do you want to stage this stupid breakup with Yangyang?”

“I have to—”

“I didn’t ask what you have to do, or what you think you have to do,” Dejun corrects. He’s using his best authoritative voice. “I’m asking what you wanna do. If you can… find it in your pea brain to figure it out.”

“What the fuck?”

“Sorry.” Dejun shrugs. Does not sound sorry. “But if you’re going to act stupid—”

Renjun blocks him out. Thinks about it. What he wants. Is there anything he does want? He wanted to get over Mark Lee. Wanted to make Mark miss him a bit. Get sort of spiteful. Gain the upper hand. That was what he wanted, and he got it, he’s almost certain he did.

But then he thinks again—thinks about Yangyang. Thinks about the way his hand feels slotted against Renjun’s, the way he touches him gently, subtly when they’re out with Renjun’s friends, the way his lips feel, smooth and hungry against his the skin of his neck, the way he looks when he’s finishing, the way he looks at Renjun like he really wants him back.

Fuck.

“It’s not being stupid if it’s realistic," Renjun says instead. Shoves it down, hides it away, the same clawing feeling. “Realistically, me and Yangyang don’t work. Realistically, I can’t date somebody only like—a few months after my last serious relationship, somebody—like Yangyang. He lives on TikTok. He buys clothing nine sizes too big. He doesn’t even like, understand how male anatomy entirely works. I’m not even sure he knows where the prostate is yet.”

“Oh, come on,” Dejun frowns, “give him at least a little more credit. He was watching all that porn, remember?"

“No,” Renjun says gravely. He stands suddenly, hugging his notebook very tightly against his chest, like some kind of shield. “No, I—it’s not happening, Dejun.”

“Then it ends badly,” Dejun concludes. He shrugs, just as his phone buzzes, pulling his attention there instead. He swipes, types, then looks up again. “Yangyang’s on his way home. Hanging around?”

He doesn’t hang around and he doesn’t get his shirt either. Instead he leaves, brainstorms other ideas for their big breakup while on the subway, lets Donghyuck wrestle him onto the couch for quality roommate bonding time when he gets home, for a shitty movie and takeout, puts on a brave face and pretends he’s fine, pretends he’s not four seconds from a complete and total spiral.

And it’s later, when he’s alone, that he thinks about that want again, wanting Yangyang, letting himself have him, all of him, and feels sick all over. Skin hot, stomach turning kind of sick, and Renjun can’t tell if it’s anxiety over the nearing breakup or something worse, something akin to want, something sweeter and more pure—liking him, seriously, truly.

He fears it’s the latter. Maybe it’s destined to end badly, then.

* * *

The thing about sliding a slippery slope, is that it’s sort of full speed ahead, eyes closed, unable to control it, in the end.

Getting back at Mark was a slippery slope, sure, but getting Yangyang involved, thinking he could parade him around, hold his hand, kiss him—that was the slipperiest of them all. Like playing Russian Roulette with your feelings, with your heart on your sleeve. A death wish, basically. God, Renjun is stupid.

They grab dinner on the last night Mark is in town. It’s nice. They drink, and Renjun eats until he’s entirely too full, and Mark promises he’ll be back sooner than last time, and Donghyuck holds him in a deathgrip of a hug, threatening to kiss him for a good minute and a half, and Johnny Suh is there, and he laughs about it, seems cool, because of course he wouldn’t mind, of course he’s always cool.

The worst part is, Renjun isn’t even sure he cares. Feels nothing when Mark does something sickenly sweet for Johnny, when Johnny says what Mark’s thinking before he even finishes the thought, when they look at each other, the way mark used to look at Renjun, the way—the way Yangyang looks at him now. Feels nothing but a juvenile, gooey, lovey-dovey feeling when Yangyang keeps his arm around the back of Renjun’s chair basically the whole meal, or grabs some more food to slide onto Renjun’s plate, or takes all of Donghyuck’s teasing and dishes some right back out, or laughs with the group but looks specifically at Renjun as he does, like he wants to share the moment with him especially, like it matters to him that Renjun is there.

The slipperiest slope of them all—actually falling for Liu Yangyang. A death wish, truly.

Tomorrow, Mark Lee will be gone. He’ll be on his way back to New York, and Renjun will wish him well, will see him soon, and will not miss him more than he might miss a friend. He’ll also—end this with Yangyang. Because that was the deal. Because they’re not really together, because it doesn’t make much sense for them to be, because Yangyang did him a favor and Renjun did Yangyang a few, and Yangyang like—deserves someone better, someone out there who’s not gonna use him to make their ex a little jealous, and maybe they can still be friends.

Renjun will miss Yangyang more than he might miss a friend, though.

They’re outside the restaurant, giving their final goodbye hugs, scattering into their respective directions when Mark Lee goes to give his goodbye to Renjun, a tiny smile on his face.

“It was good to see you, Renjun-ah,” he says. Renjun’s sure he means it.

“You, too,” Renjun says. Yangyang’s somewhere behind them, Donghyuck chatting his ear off, Johnny watching like Donghyuck is true entertainment. “I’m happy we got to hang out. All of us.”

“Yeah,” Mark agrees. He gives him another tiny smile, a bit awkward, somewhat tense. Like he wants to say something. Still, after all this time, Renjun knows him. “Honestly, I was a little, uh—nervous coming back. To see you.”

“Oh.” Renjun nods. He hadn’t been expecting that, really. Renjun gives him a smile back. “We—I mean, we ended on good terms, hyung. We’ve always been fine.”

“I know,” Mark says, nods. “I think I was worried because I had found, um, Johnny hyung. I didn’t wanna… freak you out.”

Selfless to a fault, Mark always was. Renjun cannot say the same. Especially when he was freaked out, so freaked out he made up and entire boyfriend, but—

“But,” Mark continues, “then you had—have Yangyangie, which. Well. It surprised me at first, to be honest. Actually, it kinda hurt for a minute. I think I felt weirdly protective over you still. Like, was Yangyang really going to be a good fit, you know?”

It’s not at all what Renjun had been expecting. Entirely too honest, too raw, too kind, even when Renjun was evil and scheming and lied, isn’t actually dating Liu Yangyang at all, but just wanted to get even. Even with Mark Lee, saint. Renjun is the worst, really.

“Hyung,” Renjun starts, doesn’t really know where he’s going with it, but Mark shakes his head, smiles a little bigger now, more genuine.

“That was then,” he says. “Because now I think—I think you guys are really good together. Actually, I don't think, I know. I can tell.”

“Oh,” Renjun says again. Feels sick, just like that, like a flip switched.

Mark continues, “He obviously really likes you. A lot. The way he looks at you and stuff? It’s—yeah. Really nice. And I’m—I know it sounds weird because we used to… you know. But I really am happy for you. I hope you are, too. You deserve to be happy, Renjun-ah.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Renjun says. Or so he thinks he says, because his heart—his heart is pounding so loudly again, and it feels simultaneously like it’s breaking and he doesn’t know why. “I’m happy for you, too, for the record. I don’t want you to hold back on… sharing anything next time just because it’s me. We should both be happy, right?”

“Right.” Mark smiles full force now. Right. Right, which means Renjun should just give in, should just tell Yangyang how he feels, should just keep him, have him, stay happy. Isn’t that what that means? “It really was good to see you, Renjun-ah.”

“I know,” Renjun says. “Now. Get out of here before you say anything else too nice to me. I don’t—wanna cry or something.”

“Very charming,” Mark teases. “I’ll miss you.”

Renjun will, too. So he hugs Mark goodbye, gives Johnny the most genuine smile he has the entire time he’s been here, and then they part ways, Donghyuck trailing after Jaemin and Jeno to bother them, and then it’s just Renjun, Yangyang, and the time bomb between them, loud and obnoxious and unmoving.

“So we did it,” Renjun says, knocks into Yangyang’s shoulder as they head back in the direction of Renjun’s place, because Yangyang insists on dropping him off still, even though they’re not really dating, never have been, won’t even be pretending to be going forward. “Congratulations, Liu Yangyang. You graduated with high honors from the school of being a fake boyfriend. How do you feel?”

“Amazing,” Yangyang says. He smiles, holding his chin up, like it’s really something to brag about. “I’m calling my mom to tell her as soon as I get home. She’ll be so proud of me.”

“Of course,” Renjun says, laughs a little because Yangyang is stupid, because it feels nice to laugh with Yangyang. “You know, Mark was especially impressed with our performance. He told me when he was saying goodbye. Said he was really happy for me.”

“That’s good, then.” Yangyang eyes him, knocks back into his shoulder, and his hand brushes against Renjun’s for a second, and there’s no reason to have to hold it now, not when they’re alone, not when this is all finished, but he wants to. “He was who we really had to convince, right?”

“Right,” Renjun agrees. Convince Mark, make him jealous, make him think Renjun’s over it. And Renjun is over it now, doesn't feel the slightest bit of ill will towards Mark Lee. “So, um. I guess we can—we’ll have to break up soon. Since, you know—”

“No reason for us to stay together,” Yangyang finishes. He nods, slowly. “Right. Did you come up with anything? You said you were going to text me and you never did.”

“It was a busier week than I thought,” Renjun lies. I didn’t text you because I couldn’t come up with anything, because I’m not sure I wanted to come up with anything. “All the ideas I had, Dejun shot down. Which—they were pretty weak, anyway. Did you come up with any?”

“Not really.” Yangyang hums. “Why do people normally break up? We’re both kinda petty. We could say we just clashed.”

“We already sort of clash,” Renjun points out. “It could work. It’d probably be believable.”

“We do,” Yangyang agrees. His knuckles knock against Renjun’s once more. Renjun doesn’t think it’s on purpose, but he does think the subtle smile on Yangyang’s face when he does isn’t entirely a coincidence. “We could say it just got too annoying to deal with. I was—childish. Didn’t wanna work through it.”

“They know you’re not childish, though.”

“It’s not supposed to be rational, Renjun,” Yangyang says. He laughs a little. “It’s fake, anyway. I’ll risk being considered a childish idiot if it’s gonna make it easier for us. For you, I guess.”

“It’s a maybe,” Renjun decides. Thinks a little more. “What other reasons do people break up? Cheating is off limits.”

“Obviously.” Yangyang scoffs. “Change of feelings? We could just say it was—not for us anymore. Or not for you, I guess.”

“Just because I’m the breakup-er doesn’t mean it has to be all on me,” Renjun tells him. He doesn’t necessarily love the idea of—being considered the mean one, the one who—hypothetically breaks Yangyang’s hypothetical heart here. Even though that’s what they decided on, even though that’s what made sense. It made sense, but it doesn’t anymore, not when Renjun’s heart sort of feels like it’s breaking just over the idea. Oh, it’s so incredibly bad for him. “Besides, could feelings change that quickly? Like, in a month and a half?”

“They definitely could,” Yangyang says. Sure of himself. He’s smiling a little when Renjun looks at him, but his eyes are focused ahead, lights from the store windows around him bouncing off the curves of his face nicely, prettily. Yangyang is pretty, so, so, so. “Very easily.”

“Ok, fine, I get it,” Renjun mumbles. He knocks into him again, partly to get back at him, partly because he wants to feel how warm Yangyang is, wants to take whatever he can before that’s it, before it’s no more. “So our feelings changed. We took our rose colored glasses off and I dumped you, but you’re still a good guy. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Yangyang agrees. He nods again, slowly again, and this time when Renjun feels their hands brush, Yangyang actually takes it, and Renjun’s stupid heart skips a stupid beat, and he doesn't know why. “Or like—what if we had to break up, had to stop the fake relationship because our feelings changed, because they like. They were, um. Real.”

Renjun’s stupid heart skips two stupid beats, stomach flips, sinking, clawing, wanting feeling creeping up again.

“What do you—”

“If you never wanna see me again, that’s cool, I get it,” Yangyang starts. He takes in a big breath, and then he starts talking so fast, like he’s nervous, or like he has to get it all out now for fear that Renjun might—hit him or something. “And I—um. I know it probably goes against the rules of fake boyfriend-ism, but I like you. Like, really, more than being a fake boyfriend, but instead in the way that I wanna be your real boyfriend? Which is… a lot. And I know you’re not entirely over your ex, maybe, but I think you’re—you’re so cool, and funny, and smart, and brave, and—wow, I didn’t think I’d make it this far. I could say more, but, um, are you like, still with me?”

Renjun nods, stops walking and it’s just them here, just the lights bouncing off the pretty curves and Yangyang’s pretty face, and swallows around nothing, tries, “I’m—yeah.”

“Cool,” Yangyang says, smiles like he’s relieved and then does actually keep going, “You’re patient. You put up with me despite saying you won’t, and my friends love you, and I—ok, I’m not going to say I love you right now, I’m not psychotic, but I like you, a whole lot. I think you’re like, a little stupidly, scarily hot, too, and I—I’m sorry for not knowing how to separate feelings. But I—want you. For longer than just Mark Lee being in Seoul. Renjun, I—”

“I’m—” Renjun starts, pauses, then goes on, “insane.”

Yangyang looks at him like he has four heads. “What?”

“You said it yourself,” Renjun says. “It was a joke, but like—I think I am kinda crazy, Yangyang.”

“It was a joke,” Yangyang confirms. He laughs. “Also, what’s wrong with being a little crazy? Crazy is hot.”

“Shut up,” Renjun tells him. “I’m saying I—I mean, I made up an entire fake relationship, just to make my ex feel kinda bad about himself. That’s not—nice.”

“I agreed,” Yangyang points out. He shrugs. “So maybe I’m also not nice.”

“I push feelings away instead of dealing with them,” Renjun continues. “I lied to my friends about dating you, I dragged you around like you were just some—thing instead of a person with actual feelings. I tried to convince myself we couldn’t work because we were different, because I wanted to seem better than you, to no one but myself. That’s—that’s insane, Yangyang. I shouldn’t, like, get to have you, after all that. Why should I have you?”

“Because I like you,” Yangyang says. Like it’s as simple as that. “Because being around you makes me happy. Also, you probably are better than me, anyway.”

“Don’t say that.” Renjun reaches out with his free hand, the one that’s not still holding Yangyang’s and goes to shove him, doesn’t even put up a fight when Yangyang traps that hand, too, holds it against his chest instead. His heart is beating fast again. It’s because of you, for you, Renjun’s brain supplies. Feels sick again, but the good kind, maybe. “God, you’re sweet. You’ve been a really stupidly good fake boyfriend, you know that, right? It was—I liked it so much. Liked you.”

“Liked as in past tense?”

“Present,” Renjun corrects. “I like you so much. Presently. Unfortunately.”

“Mean,” Yangyang mumbles, but he’s pulling Renjun even closer now, and his eyes are set on Renjun’s mouth, and Renjun feels butterflies in his entire body now. “I like it.”

“You’re impossible,” Renjun says, and his own heart must be pounding the same way Yangyang’s is, heavy in his chest, so full of Yangyang, that it might burst. “So what? We’re just—we’re gonna do this?”

“We’ve already been doing it,” Yangyang says. He lets go of one of Renjun’s hands, bringing his up to Renjun’s face, thumbs at his cheek. Gentle, like he’s almost scared to. Doesn’t know how or if he should. “What’s the difference? Everything’s always felt easy with you, anyway.”

“Annoyingly good point. This was ridiculous, wasn’t it?” Yangyang nods, laughs a little, and something unfurls in Renjun’s chest, warm—he gets to hear that laugh whenever now. Gets to be the reason behind it. “Ok. Kiss me.”

“Right here?” Yangyang looks around, scandalized, like there’s anyone else here, like they haven’t actually done this before on a street just like this one.

“Yes, here,” Renjun snaps. Grins, evil, “Unless you don’t want to—”

“You need to stop fucking saying that,” Yangyang grumbles, and then he’s leaning in, kisses him gently, kisses him the way Renjun’s starting to realize he deserves, the way Yangyang’s already known he deserves. Sweet. The tiniest bite to it.

Easy, normal. Of course.

* * *

Yangyang really did steal the calendar from the gay club all those months ago and hang it on his bedroom wall. He’s got it at the direct foot of his bed, a half naked dude posed up for the month of August just staring at them. It looks stupid. Yangyang is still very proud of it.

“I’m sorry,” Renjun says, “but I can’t think with the calendar right there. It’s so weird, Yangyang.”

“It’s funny,” Yangyang corrects. “Is he intimidating you?”

“He’s wearing a neon green speedo. It’s heinous.”

“What if I got one?”

“Grounds for a breakup.” Renjun pauses. “A real one.”

“‘Kay, noted,” Yangyang says, and then he rolls around so he’s on top of Renjun, blocking his view from the half naked guy which Renjun appreciates. “Now focus. How did you wanna tell your friends?”

“Is there a right way to do it? A special way or something?” Renjun asks. He slides his hands up around Yangyang’s shoulders, interlocks them behind his neck. “‘Hey, so I actually wasn’t dating Yangyang, but now I am. No further questions.’ Is that not enough?”

“You could sprinkle in how into me you currently are, if you’re feeling generous,” Yangyang says. “Hey, wait. I was actually kinda right about you the entire time. You wanted me so bad. Renjun, how long have you—ow!”

Yangyang rolls off him, hand clutching his chest, attempt to soothe over his left pec that Renjun just pinched the fuck out of. Which he deserved, by the way.

“Do not piss me off,” Renjun warns him. He looks at half-naked-August guy again. Silently asks for advice on how to tell all his friends his fake boyfriend was fake and is now his real boyfriend. He gets nothing.

“Well don’t do that then.” Yangyang huffs. He sits up a little. “How many times do I have to tell you that being mean turns me on? Makes me wanna piss you off.”

Renjun rolls his eyes, because Yangyang’s like, at least half kidding, and they don’t need to—get handsy right now, anyway. He’s pretty sure Dejun and Ten are out in the living room, watching some ridiculous American movie. Dejun was only mildly offended that Renjun chose Yangyang’s room over the empty spot on the couch.

“Maybe we just shouldn’t tell them at all,” Renjun muses then. He rolls onto Yangyang next, gets pretty comfortable on his lap, legs on either side of Yangyang’s slim frame as he sits up. Yangyang puts his hands at Renjun’s waist and Renjun prays they stay there. “What they don’t know won’t kill them, you know?”

“Guess so,” Yangyang agrees. He shrugs, bleach fried hair sticking up in a few directions on the pillow he’s resting on. He looks stupidly cute. “Plus, we already got enough laughing and pointing from my friends. Maybe it would be for the best.”

“Right?” Renjun agrees. He leans down to kiss him, then, once, sweet, just because he can. Yangyang goes for another, and then one more. “Donghyuck would probably like, threaten to kill you, anyway.”

“He doesn’t scare me,” Yangyang says. Kisses him again, a little longer this time. Slides his hands a little further down Renjun’s body and tilts his head, deepening the kiss. Dirtier, just a touch. Goddammit, Renjun needs to really practice his willpower now, doesn’t he? “Besides, if it means I get to be with you, I would—”

Somewhere in the apartment, the front door opens then, swings all the way wide followed by an urgent, “Huang Renjun, I know you’re here and I know you’re a liar and I know you weren’t really dating Liu Yangyang, Kun ge told me and—”

“I did not tell him!” That’s Kun’s voice—interrupting Chenle, obviously—annoyed, only slightly panicked, “He forced the information—”

“Kun ge, you big loser.” That’s Ten now. “We can’t trust you with anything around here, honey.”

Kun’s voice gets muffled then, an obviously hushed comeback at Ten, but Renjun doesn’t bother listening for it, anyway, completely frozen right now, though, halfway to Yangyang’s lips, Yangyang’s hands paused somewhere around his ass, the both of them scared to make any sudden movements, scared that Chenle might miraculously make his way in and like—burn him at the stake or something.

“You locked the door, right?” Renjun whispers.

“Yes,” Yangyang whispers back. “I thought I was gonna get to suck your dick right now. I’ve been practicing.”

“Practicing on what?” Renjun’s eyes go wide, Yangyang giving him a sheepish look in return. Renjun frowns. “Actually, don’t answer that. Now is not the time.”

“Renjun!” Chenle’s on the other side of the door now. There’s a moment of silence. “I’m texting Donghyuck right now. And Jisung, too, just because I really think it would fuck up his day.” Another beat. “Are you being stupid and hiding on purpose? I know you’re in there! The both of you! Liars!”

“So much for not telling them,” Renjun groans, pushes himself up to full height again, and sighs. He looks over his shoulder at the neon speedo guy as one last cry for help. A lost cause, truly.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Yangyang says with a shrug. He kisses Renjun’s cheek once. “I have a PhD in humiliation. I’m best friends with Dejun, that’s like, his favorite pastime.”

‘What are you guys even doing?” Chenle squawks. “Dejun, does this door have a key?”

“Did I mention how much I like you?” Renjun says, gives him a toothy smile, just as Chenle’s phone starts buzzing against the door, too. It’s probably Jisung. Or somehow, Jeno. “Because I do. A lot.”

“I know,” Yangyang says. One last kiss. “I like you back. A lot.”

Of course.