Chapter Text
Seungcheol knew he’d ruined everything the moment his phone lit up with a text from his mom.
We can’t wait to meet him ♡♡♡
That was the moment his soul left his body.
He stared at the text, blinking like maybe if he looked long enough it would transform into something less terrifying. It didn’t. Of course it didn’t.
A heart. His mom never used those casually. She only pulled those out when she was excited enough to start planning outfits and menus. Which meant she was taking this boyfriend meeting very seriously.
He sank onto the nearest counter, phone dangling from his fingers. The message stared back at him like it was mocking him. Meet who? There was no him. No boyfriend. Not anymore.
One breakup and one stupid bet. That was all it took to destroy December.
He could still hear his parents saying it with those identical unimpressed faces. You can’t hold down a relationship with a man for six months.
And he, powered entirely by wounded pride and zero rational brain cells, had said, Watch me.
Well. They were coming over to watch him fail.
He let his forehead drop onto the cold marble. The counter didn’t care about his crisis. It just sat there, expensive and dramatic like everything else his parents installed in their guest houses around the world.
Yes, he was living in one of the guest houses of the choi family.
He hadn’t even wanted this place. It was too big, too polished, too echoey. Three bedrooms, two living rooms, a kitchen worthy of a cooking show.
All for one overworked engineer who slept irregularly enough to be considered nocturnal.
The silence in this house used to follow him from room to room like a ghost.
That was the only reason he’d gotten a house mate at all. He’d needed another heartbeat somewhere in the house or he was going to lose his mind.
A house mate?
His head snapped up from the counter.
A house mate who was an actor. A house mate who knew how to lie for a living. A straight house mate. A house mate who lived here, in the same house, with a closet full of all-black outfits and a schedule that didn’t involve Christmas dinners with strangers.
Yes. A house mate. That was it. Maybe he could help.
Maybe he could save him.
Or kill him first.
Honestly felt like a fifty–fifty shot.
He didn’t have to look far for his maybe-savior. His house mate was already in the living room, sitting exactly the way he always did at ten in the morning.
Black hoodie, black sweatpants, black socks, black mood. One knee tucked under him, coffee mug steaming beside him. He looked like part of the interior design. Minimalist. Moody. Untouchable.
He didn’t look like he lived in the house. He looked like he tolerated it.
Seungcheol hovered by the edge of the room. “Jeonghan-ah.”
Jeonghan didn’t lift his head. He raised one finger. A command. Then he tapped that finger to his head, and then to his coffee cup.
Translation: shut the fuck up. I have a headache. Do not speak until caffeine enters my bloodstream.
After almost a year of living together, Seungcheol had learned to decode these silent hieroglyphics. Somehow they still counted as friendship.
Jeonghan finally took a slow sip. Then he looked up and gave a single nod.
Permission to speak. Barely.
Seungcheol inhaled. “So… remember that bet my parents made? The one where they said I couldn’t stay in a relationship with a guy for six months?”
“The bet that you spectacularly failed? Cause your man dumped you?”
“Yes. ANYWAY, my parents are coming over and can you—”
“If you’re about to ask me for something, the answer is no.”
“I just need you to pretend”
“No.”
“You didn’t even hear the rest”
“NO.”
The speed of the shutdown was almost beautiful. Jeonghan should’ve put it on his résumé. Special skill: immediate refusal.
Jeonghan kept drinking like this was just a normal morning where his house mate wasn’t spiraling into a holiday-themed catastrophe.
But Seungcheol was desperate. Truly, pathetically desperate. Desperate enough to ignore the very clear no and step further into the room anyway.
“My parents are coming for Christmas,” he rushed out. “They think I’m in a six month relationship. They’re excited. Like… heart emojis excited. They believe I have a boyfriend. A stable boyfriend who proves I can function emotionally for half a year.”
Jeonghan blinked. “That sucks.”
“I know,” Seungcheol groaned. “That’s why I need your help. Please pretend to be my boyfriend for three days.”
“NO.”
“You’re an actor. You’re good at pretending.”
“No.”
“We live together. It’s believable.”
“No.”
“I’ll owe you literally anything.”
Jeonghan sighed, placed his cup down, and gave him a look that could’ve shut down a small country.
“Seungcheol. I don’t date men. I don’t fake date men. I don’t act in romance commercials because holding hands with people makes my skin crawl. I wear black so people don’t approach me. What part of that sounds like ‘bring me to your family Christmas’ .”
Seungcheol dragged his hands down his face. “It’s not like you have to kiss me or anything. Just be… present. Like a supportive boyfriend. In front of them. For one weekend.”
“No.”
“Is it a soft no?”
“No.”
“Please. I’m begging.”
Jeonghan closed his eyes like Seungcheol’s existence itself was giving him a migraine. “You lied to your parents. You kept lying. You dug the hole so deep you’re practically living in it. And now you want me to climb in with you.”
“Yes,” Seungcheol said immediately.
There wasn’t a molecule of shame left in him. Pride had left the chat.
Jeonghan let out a soft, annoyed exhale. “The best I can do is get out of your way for the weekend. Seriously. I can stay at a hotel. You stay here with your parents, enjoy Christmas, pretend your boyfriend is busy. Done.”
Seungcheol stared at him like he had committed a hate crime against logic. “Busy? No boyfriend of mine is gonna be busy on Christmas ! He should be with me ! ”
“You have no boyfriend.”
“Okay. Fake boyfriend should be with me.”
Jeonghan gave him a look. “I don’t even like festivals. Especially Christmas. It’s too cold for me to function. Ask someone else. You have tons of cheerful friends. Matching-sweater-wearing friends.”
“None of them are actors.”
Jeonghan scoffed. “You talk like I’ve been the lead in a thousand romance dramas. I’ve played side characters that show up for two episodes and then vanish.”
“And that was incredible acting,” Seungcheol insisted. “You were so cheerful in those roles, Jeonghan. You practically glowed. Just… please. For me.”
Jeonghan narrowed his eyes. “You dated your idiot ex for five months. Your parents never saw his picture? His name? They’ll just believe it’s me? Be so serious right now.”
“I never told them anything,” Seungcheol admitted. “They refused to hear about him because they thought I wasn’t serious about dating a man. They said that if he lasted six months, then they’d accept him as a real human.”
Jeonghan paused. “Are your parents homophobes?”
“Not really,” Seungcheol said, rubbing the back of his neck. “They just… don’t believe I’m bi. Just… please, come on, help me.”
“No. No no no.” Jeonghan shook his head immediately, already standing. “I want my bagel. You ate my bagel. The last one. And I am going out, getting another bagel, and then I’m coming back here to sleep. In the meantime, you figure out your own mess.”
He grabbed his keys and walked out the door.
The house felt painfully quiet after it shut.
Seungcheol sank onto the couch, elbows on his knees, hands dragging through his hair as he whispered to no one, “What the fuck am I supposed to do…”
His eyes drifted to the coffee table. A magazine lay there, the kind they kept around for decoration. Jeonghan’s face stared back from the cover, editorial lighting making him look even more unreal than usual.
He wasn’t even Seungcheol’s type. Too sharp, too composed, too… everything. But there was no denying he was attractive. Admired. The kind of person parents would look at and think oh, good choice.
Hell, he might even get a pat on the back for dating a model-actor.
He sighed and dropped the magazine back onto the table. Fine. If Jeonghan wasn’t going to help, he’d take the nuclear option.
He pulled out his phone, scrolling through contacts, mental dignity already preparing to die as he hunted for his ex’s name.
Just as he was about to tap it, the phone rang.
Jeonghan’s name flashed across the screen.
Seungcheol answered immediately. “You at the store already?”
“No. I’m still in the driveway. My stupid car won’t start. Bring me your car key. I am taking your car.”
Seungcheol blinked. “You didn’t even leave the driveway?”
“Would I be calling you if I left? Get down here.”
“Okay, okay.” He hung up and got up fast.
Outside, the cold slapped him in the face. Jeonghan, unsurprisingly, looked offended by the weather. He had the hood of his giant black jeep propped open, hands buried in the engine like he was performing angsty surgery.
“Woah woah woah, don’t mess it up more,” Seungcheol said, jogging over.
“I know how to fix a car,” Jeonghan snapped. “It’s just not working.”
“Leave it to the professional, Han”
“No.”
Seungcheol ignored him and leaned in anyway, nudging Jeonghan out of the way.
His hands moved fast, muscle memory kicking in. Adjust. Tighten. Reseat the one wire that shouldn’t have been loose unless someone with zero patience had been yanking on things five minutes ago.
He shut the hood with a clean thunk.
“Try it now,” he said, stepping back.
Jeonghan slid into the driver’s seat, turned the key, and the engine started.
He froze, eyebrows climbing, then smacked the steering wheel. “Unbelievable.”
Seungcheol crossed his arms, smirking. “The word you’re looking for is thank you.”
Jeonghan pointed at him through the windshield like he was accusing him of a federal crime. “I did the exact same thing. Why didn’t it work when I touched it? Why does it magically obey you after two taps?”
“Because I did it right.” Seungcheol said.
Jeonghan glared at him.
Seungcheol just grinned. “I make and fix cars for a living, Jeonghan. I didn’t cry through my engineering finals just to become someone who can’t fix a jeep.”
Jeonghan huffed, looking away.
And Seungcheol watched him, heart thumping too fast, realizing something terrifying.
He really, really needed this man for Christmas.
Even if he had to beg.
Without invitation, Seungcheol opened the passenger door and climbed in.
Jeonghan’s head whipped toward him. “Get out.”
“Please return the favor by being my fake boyfriend,” Seungcheol said quickly, before he could be physically thrown out. “It’s a fair trade. I fix your car, you fix my life.”
“One,” Jeonghan said flatly, pointing at the door, “get out of the car.”
Seungcheol stayed exactly where he was. He even buckled his seatbelt.
“Two,” Jeonghan continued, “absolutely not.”
“Come on—”
“No.”
“You watch too many shitty Christmas romcoms, Seungcheol,” Jeonghan said. “Fake dating only works in the movies.”
Seungcheol slumped back, ignoring the dagger-eyes aimed at him. His chest felt tight in that pathetic way, panic plus hope plus the growing realization that he was absolutely running out of options.
“It would work if you did it with me,” he muttered.
Jeonghan stared forward, knuckles white on the steering wheel. “I am literally the least believable Christmas boyfriend on earth.”
“You’d be surprised,” Seungcheol said under his breath. “My parents would love you no matter what”
“No,” Jeonghan snapped immediately.
“But—”
“No.”
“Jeonghan—”
The glare turned nuclear. Seungcheol shut his mouth.
Jeonghan then started driving and Seungcheol kept his mouth shut in the fear of being thrown off the vehicle.
The drive was not peaceful. More like sitting beside a very cold storm cloud with a driver’s license.
Seungcheol didn’t dare breathe too loud.
They reached the store. Jeonghan marched toward the bakery aisle like a man on a mission. He found his bagel—the precious bagel—and grabbed it with a reverence that made Seungcheol want to laugh but also fear for his life.
They picked up a few groceries in silence. At checkout, Jeonghan moved to pay, but Seungcheol slid his card in first.
Jeonghan’s eyes snapped up, sharp enough to slice him in half.
Seungcheol just smiled, innocent and annoying. Then he grabbed the bags before Jeonghan could argue and walked out to load the car.
It wasn’t until they were both standing outside, that Seungcheol turned to him and said, way too casually, “Rock, paper, scissors.”
Jeonghan blinked. “Huh?”
“If you win,” Seungcheol said. “I back off. If I win, you be my fake boyfriend.”
Jeonghan stared at him like he just suggested a blood sacrifice. “This is ridiculous.”
“Please?” Seungcheol said, and he didn’t even try to hide the pathetic in his voice or face. He knew exactly what he looked like.
Jeonghan groaned, closed his eyes, and muttered a tiny prayer to a god who definitely wasn’t listening.
“Fine.”
They positioned their hands. Snow drifted lazily around them.
“Rock, paper, scissors–”
Jeonghan threw scissors. Seungcheol threw rock.
Seungcheol exploded. “WOOHOOOO—fuck yes!” He practically jumped, fist punching the air like he’d just won the lottery.
Jeonghan stared at his own hand like it was a curse. Then he exhaled the slow, defeated sigh of someone who knew he made the wrong choice the moment he decided to be nice.
“Seungcheol…” he said quietly. “I don’t know anything about dating a man. Are you sure you want this?”
“I’m sure you’re a good actor,” he said softly.
Jeonghan groaned into his coat collar. “Fuck. Fine.” He jabbed a finger at him. “But you have to do whatever I want, whenever I want, for a month.”
Seungcheol nodded instantly. “Of course, princess.”
Jeonghan smacked his arm. “Call me that again and I will kill you in front of your parents.”
“Deal,” Seungcheol grinned, sticking out his hand.
Jeonghan hesitated, eyes flicking to his hand like it might bite. Then he took it, reluctant and annoyed and beautiful in the falling snow.
Their hands shook once.
A deal sealed.
Snow swirled around them like fate was laughing its ass off…because honestly, it probably was.