Chapter Text
It all started las saturday with- Jeon Wonwoo
Most people aren’t interested in other people’s lives… Is something those who haven’t been through this situation might say
“Kim Mingyu, you asshole, impotent piece of shit.”
Mingyu winced as he looked around. This place feels all stuffy and fancy, the kind of vibe that makes his skin crawl, he thinks as he takes a step towards Seoyeon, keeping his voice low. “ Whoa there. Lets not crack such jokes here, hmm.”
Seoyeon just stared at him, her chest heaving.
Mingyu exhaled slowly, trying to find the calm she'd clearly already run out of. "And for the record, I'm not whatever you just called me. This is one big mis–"
"Don't you dare." She shouted, her voice cutting through the ambient noise like a blade. "Don't you dare call it a misunderstanding. Don't bullshit me, Mingyu. I'm not talking about one isolated incident."
She stepped closer, jaw tight. "Break up with me. I never want to see your face again. We're done."
Mingyu looks around to see everyone looking at them and murmurs fill the entire place. This was not good."Look, Seoyeon…" He reached for her hands. "I'm sorry. All of it was my fault, okay? Just please don't say that. You're the only one for m–"
She knocked his hands away.
"Keep your hands off me." Her voice was low now, which was somehow worse. "You can take all your sweet talk and shove it."
"Oh.. okay. Okay, hands off." He pulled back, both palms raised. "I just... wanted to make sure your hands weren't cold."
Something cracked in her expression. "My hands." She let out a short, fractured laugh. “You.. do you really think I care about my hands being cold when you’re here driving me fucking crazy.” Her fists clenched at her sides. "Do you have any idea how I felt every single time you pulled away from me? Every time you wouldn't—" She stopped and swallowed. "Do you know what face you make when we kiss?"
She was crying now and Mingyu's chest hollowed out.
"Do you actually even love me?"
His hand twitched… it was a reflex at this point, moving toward her before he caught himself. He gritted his teeth and curled his fingers inward. There was nothing but truth in what she was saying. Every word of it. And the truest thing he knew right now was this: she deserved better. Better than him. Better than whatever this was.
He exhaled– long, quiet, defeated.
"...I'm sorry."
Seoyeon looked up. Angry tears still wet on her face.
"Asshole."
She left.
Mingyu stood there and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. Around him, the room hummed with low whispers and he was a hundred and ten percent certain he was the subject of every single one.
Seokmin's not here yet. Figures. Seokmin, who's usually fifteen minutes early for everything, decides tonight is the night to run late. So here's Mingyu, all by himself at this ridiculously over-the-top cocktail bar. Everyone's got these gold-plated business cards, hair slicked with gel that probably costs more than a decent watch, and these rich men and women who clearly think they can buy anything - including him, judging by the looks he's getting. Honestly, he barely notices anymore; he's dealt with people like this his whole life. Still, their stares tend to stick around a bit too long.
He pulls out his phone, rereading the last message he got from Seokmin before he decided to drop off the face of the Earth.
Seokmin: On my way
That was 40 minutes ago.
He shoves his phone back in his pocket, feeling eyes crawling all over him, and he can't help but wonder, What the actual fuck is this place?
All he knows is that the second he stepped through the door, he picked up on an undeniably predatory vibe in the place that sits at striking odds with the convivial laughter, the gentle tinkling of fine glassware, the soft classical piano music filtering through the perfumed air. The whole place smiles with its teeth.
Mingyu hates this place, he can't help but groan as he orders another overpriced drink, barely glancing at the price. Seokmin should hate this place too honestly, though his would be a primarily volume-related hatred. One laugh from him and every glass in the room would probably shatter, so Mingyu honestly can't even fathom the motivation behind Seokmin asking him here.
Glancing around the room, Mingyu sees one or two other men who are young and good looking, but the majority of them seem to be at least 20 years older, well-dressed and openly leering. The only women here are young, perfectly primped and polished, not one of them over 25. The men with whom they're speaking are several noticeable hotness leagues below them, and the women’s screaming laughter is so forced that Mingyu wonders if it actually hurts.
Five more minutes, he tells himself. If Seokmin’s beautiful ass is not planted in the seat next to him in five more minutes, he's out of here.
Across the bar, a woman in an expensive looking silk dress and net gloves holds his gaze, slowly running her tongue across her lips. He looks at her. She's beautiful, objectively, technically, undeniably beautiful.
And he feels absolutely nothing.
Guess I really am gay, he thinks, and takes a long sip of his drink.
She waits another beat, then walks away, jaw tight, fists clenched. Probably never been turned down by a man in her life.
He lets out a breath. Sets his glass down.
“Fucking hell.” He groans. Well it was not like he asked to be like this, he hadn't asked to want what he wants, to be wired the way he's wired. There had been a version of his life he'd imagined once: He too had wanted to live like any normal guy would. Marry the right woman, start his own family and devote his whole life to protecting them. A life with nothing to lose and gain, just like everyone else.
And maybe it's the breakup, maybe it's the whiskey, but right now that imagined life feels very far away and tonight feels very long, and if Seokmin doesn't show up in the next sixty seconds Mingyu is going to do something genuinely embarrassing in the middle of this pretentious bar and he would really rather not.
Just then, someone drops into the seat beside him.
“This seat taken?”
Mingyu turns around, fully prepared to glare, but when he’s met with sharp dark eyes. Pink-glossed lips parted slightly over his front teeth. The most disarmingly pretty human being to have ever, apparently, wandered into this pretentious bar on this particular miserable night. The glare dissolves before Mingyu can even deploy it.
The stranger smiles like he already knows that.
“Um. Hello,” the guy says, just a little bit too loud over the quiet murmur of the room. The bartender serving them shifts to glance disdainfully at them.
“Hi…” Mingyu replies, and he can't help that it sounds like a question.
The man in front of him bites his lips. “How are you?”
“I'm... good, how are you?” Mingyu responds politely, if a little confused.
“Oh, I'm good…” He replies as his gaze travels, unhurriedly, from Mingyu's face then downwards and back up again. "Very good now, actually."
Mingyu shifts uncomfortably at his seat and presses two fingers to his temple. "Lee fucking Seokmin."
"No." The guy tilts his head. "I'm Wonwoo."
Mingyu swallows. Nods slowly. Who is this person and why is he talking like they've known each other for years. Wonwoo flags the bartender down and orders a gin and tonic like he owns the place, and Mingyu stares straight ahead and finishes the last of his drink. He needs to leave. Right fucking now.
"Do you want a drink?"
Mingyu turns. "...Huh."
"I asked if you wanted a drink."
He knew what was asked. The huh was for the asking itself. But Mingyu keeps that particular thought behind his teeth. "Oh– thanks, but I'm all set."
Wonwoo nods. Turns his glass slowly on the bar. "I'm just..." he mumbles. "I've never done this before so I don't really know how it's supposed to go."
Mingyu quirks an eyebrow. Talking to a stranger and buying them drinks. Sure, Mingyu had never done it either– why would anyone, unless they were– oh. Oh. “Look I appreciate it, but I was just about to leave, so-"
“No! Please, wait." Wonwoo finally looks up from the bar. His eyes are a little desperate in a way that doesn't quite match the rest of him. And then, as if this whole thing hadn't already cleared the bar for weird, he reaches into his pocket and sets a coin on the counter between them.
"Let's leave it up to fate."
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Mingyu asks with dismay as he stares at the coin. Then at Wonwoo. Then does a quick sweep left and right like someone's about to catch him in the middle of something illegal. "What fate. Fate for what."
Wonwoo grins. “If it lands heads, you marry me.”
Mingyu chokes on his spit. “I’m sorry?”
"A fake marriage," he clarifies, and flips the coin into the air before Mingyu can form a single coherent response.
It spins lazily under the warm bar lights.
Mingyu doesn’t even know why he watches it.
The coin lands on the back of Wonwoo’s hand.
Heads.
He beams.
“Wow,” he says. “Congratulations to us.”
That’s it he’s really leaving now. Mingyu turns around to leave, but he’s held back by a hand holding his wrist. “Wait…”
He exhales through his nose. Long and slow. Not this again. "Listen," he says, turning back around, looking down at Wonwoo. "I did not agree to that. You flipped a coin at me. That's not how marriages work."
"Wait, just…" Wonwoo's voice tips into something genuinely desperate. "I know… I know how this sounds. But I'm in dire need of help, just…look." He nods toward the far corner of the bar.
An older couple sits there in silk dress and a tuxedo, unhurried, elegant, slowly nursing their wine like they have all the time in the world.
Mingyu stares at them. Then back at Wonwoo. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with everyone in this building. "I really need to go, so–"
"They're my parents."
“...” So? Mingyu thinks. What exactly am I supposed to do with that information.
"They think I'm here meeting my lover tonight," Wonwoo says, quieter now. "If I walk out alone, they'll arrange a marriage for me. Someone of their choosing, and… I'd hate it."
Something about the way he said that, the way he looked up, made Mingyu lose his train of thought for a full second. He caught it back. None of this made any sense. Why the hell should I help you was what his brain was producing. "...How drunk are you?" was what came out.
Wonwoo looked offended. "I’m completely sober."
"That's worse," Mingyu muttered. "Look, whatever this is, I'm not playing along."
Wonwoo tapped the coin against the counter once. Twice. Then shrugged. "Fair."
Mingyu pauses mid-step, surprised by the lack of argument.
"You would've gotten a hundred million won, though."
Mingyu went very still.
Slowly, he turned back around.
"...I'm sorry?"
Wonwoo looked up at him with completely serene eyes. "For the fake marriage."
Mingyu stared at him. This guy actually thought he could just put a number on it and watch Mingyu fold. The audacity was almost impressive. "Fantastic," he said flatly, and Wonwoo's face lit up like a lamp.
"Then–"
"I'm still leaving." Mingyu turned away and started walking.
The hand found his wrist again.
Mingyu was not a violent person. He was careful about that, deliberately and consciously careful, always aware of how much space he took up, how much force he was capable of without meaning to be. But it had been a long, ugly day. His patience was a thread and this guy was pulling it with both hands.
He turned back around.
And Wonwoo looked… not manipulative. Not calculating. Just quietly devastated. "Is it not enough?" he asked.
Mingyu's expression did something he couldn't stop in time. Enough or not, it didn't matter how much money was on the table. He wasn't selling himself. "Why–"
"It's just..." Wonwoo exhaled like the word cost him something. "An arrangement."
An arrangement. Mingyu turned it over and looked at it from every angle. It was wrong from every single one. He'd just broken up with his girlfriend today – today, of all days. He hadn't even fully caught up with himself yet, with what it meant, with what he actually was. And if his parents ever found out that he was playing house with a man, they would lose their entire minds. They would baptize him. They would call every relative they had.
So no. There were reasons. More than one.
"I really can't—"
Wonwoo's face crumpled. Not dramatically, just… crumpled in a way a person's face does when they've been holding something for too long and suddenly can't anymore. "I knew it." His voice came out small and fractured. "I knew this would happen, shit… fuck my life, oh my god, I think I'm going to be sick–"
He really looked like it. Genuinely, actually looked like someone standing on the very edge of an anxiety attack.
Every instinct Mingyu had rearranged itself at once.
"Hey… hey, it's okay–"
"I'm such an idiot." Wonwoo pressed a fist to his mouth. "I'm such a fucking idiot, why did I even–"
"Okay. Okay, hold on." Mingyu's hand was already up, signaling the bartender. "Water. Just… water first, yeah?"
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't want to… it's just my parents, and I'm just so… I'm so awkward, and gay, and I'm going to die in a loveless marriage, I'm going to spend my entire life–"
"Hey." Mingyu rests a reassuring hand on his shoulder and accepts the glass of water from the bartender, pressing it into Wonwoo’s hands. “ It's okay, just have some water.”
Wonwoo accepts the glass silently, chewing intently his lip as he just stares wildly back at Mingyu. When he makes no move to drink, Mingyu gently tips the glass up towards his lips, and he reluctantly takes a sip.
Mingyu stood there. Looked up at the ceiling. Then back down.
"Lee. Fucking. Seokmin."
"No," Wonwoo said quietly, glass still in hand. "I'm Wonwoo."
"Fine." Mingyu leans in slightly, close enough that to anyone watching, it might look like flirting. “Wonwoo, listen to me carefully. In no conceivable universe would I ever agree to be your husband.” He sighs, “But I do know what it's like to be awkward and gay." He holds up one finger and taps his cheek. "So I will let you kiss me on the cheek, and I will walk away without leaving you here alone like a piece of furniture, which is more than I'd do for basically anyone else who propositioned me tonight."
Wonwoo sniffs, staring down at his lap. "Thank you. I'm really sorry."
Mingyu is on the verge of standing up and leaving, but something about Wonwoo keeps him anchored in his seat. "How old are you anyway?”
"Twenty-nine." He says it like a diagnosis.
Mingyu rolls his eyes. "Come on. Awkward or not, you're young, you're clearly loaded, and you're, objectively, a lot to look at. You don't need me to be your fake husband. If you just asked, you'd have people lining up."
Wonwoo stares at him like he's just said something in a language he's still translating. "I… thanks. I.. no, you're–"
"Alright." Mingyu claps his hands once on his knees. "I genuinely feel for you man. Best of luck out there." He says, rising from his seat, sympathetic but ready to be done with this weirdness.
“Wait!” Wonwoo begs, clutching onto Mingyu’s sleeve. “Are you sure you don’t… you know…”
Mingyu very gently, very deliberately peels his fingers loose. "Pretty sure I don't want to spend my spare time as your on-call husband for a monthly stipend." He turns.
"But it's just pretend!"
He turns back. "You've said that. My answer's still no."
“But… But, we don't actually have to like have sex or anything, this will be the easiest money you'll ever make.”
Mingyu tongues the inside of his cheek, appraising Wonwoo with careful eyes. “Dude, why me? Just find someone who actually wants to do this.”
Wonwoo's shoulders cave slightly. "Because I'm scared. And you're.. you're nice and I stopped wanting to throw up about two minutes ago." A pause. He tucks his chin. "Also you're possibly the most attractive person I've ever seen in my life."
The corner of Mingyu's mouth moves before he can stop it. Coming from someone who could make Aphrodite feel underdressed, that lands differently than he expected.
"So what do you say?"
The alarm bells going off in the back of his skull sound exactly like Lee Seokmin's laugh. "Look. I'm flattered, I genuinely am, but I don't have time for–"
"I'll make it worth your time." Wonwoo sits up straighter, sensing the crack in the door. "We barely have to see each other. Name your price."
"...Huh."
"Name it. Anything you want." He reaches into his jacket and shoves a thick wad of bills across the bar toward Mingyu. “Here, take this to start,”
Mingyu's eyes bulge as he shoves the bills right back at Wonwoo. “The fuck? That’s… that’s insane.”
“Then what do you want?”
"You're actually serious?"
"Completely."
"You really want to do this?" Mingyu asks him, an incredulous tilt to his head.
"I’ll do anything.. Just tell me your terms."
Mingyu is quiet. He's mostly just stunned that this is a real conversation happening in his real life. But something does surface, something that's been sitting at the back of his mind for a while, unrelated to any of this, and somehow related to all of it. "We can cancel. Whenever I want. No questions asked. I say it's done, it’s done."
Wonwoo blinks. He almost looks disappointed. Like he'd been braced for something harder. "That's it?"
"If you knew anything about me," Mingyu says, "you'd understand that's a steeper price than anything else you could've named."
Wonwoo is quiet for one beat.
"Okay, deal," he says, and looks like he just won something.
“Now what are your terms?”
“Hmm, about my terms” Wonwoo grins “We fake it.”
“...Huh?”
"We fake it. We've been together a while, you propose to me at some point, we play happy and in love, but like I said, you won't have to do much. Mainly my work functions, a few times a month, and appearances for my parents. That's it."
Mingyu clicks his tongue and nods slowly. "So. I come to your work events, laugh at your jokes, act like we're in love, and don't correct anyone who implies that we're–"
"Having sex," Wonwoo supplies helpfully.
Mingyu's face does something catastrophic.
Wonwoo's expression shifts immediately to concern. He raises a hand and presses it to Mingyu's forehead with a worried frown. "You're very red. You're not running a fever, are you? Do you need to go to a hospital?"
God please kill me now. Mingyu thinks as he looks away and lets out a breath that comes out shakier than intended. The thing was– If this was something said by a woman, he wouldn’t have given such a strong reaction, the fact that it was specifically Wonwoo saying it, in that voice, with that face, it had temporarily disconnected Mingyu's brain from his body. “I.. I’m fine.” he replies, clearing his throat, obviously trying to play off the strangled, choked sound as a casual cough.
Mingyu purposefully bites the inside of his cheek hard, desperately fighting the urge to run away from it all. "Okay. And?"
"Uh, and... we need a lot of selfies, together." It's only a fraction of a moment before Mingyu’s eyes bug comically at Wonwoo’s words. Wonwoo catches Mingyu's expression and rushes to add, "I mean, not for me! To... to show my siblings as proof."
"Okay," Mingyu agrees. "Selfies, can do. And?"
Wonwoo hesitates for just a fraction of a second. "And maybe... at some point... one kiss. In front of my parents."
Mingyu's first thought was: It's wrong. His second thought was the same, just louder. A kiss. Kiss? Mingyu doesn’t know if he could do that. Afterall, it's wrong to kiss a man. It's wrong to want to. That's what it is, that's what the Bible says, that's what Mingyu was told his whole life– I can never kiss a man, no matter what. Is what is on Mingyu’s mind, "One kiss, no problem," is what came out of his mouth instead. He stared straight ahead, mildly horrified at himself.
Wonwoo leans forward, and Mingyu catches a whiff of Wonwoo’s fresh, almost floral cologne. Mingyu’s officially lost it now. Wonwoo’s lips are glossy, pink and plump and Mingyu can’t help but think how it would feel if he sucked on them and–.
"Is it okay if we.. right now?"
"WHAT…" Mingyu lurched backward, hand flying to his mouth, muffling the sound before it could carry. "No.. I'm not.. I'm not ready now–"
Wonwoo pouts, but it only lasted about two seconds before Mingyu's expression made it collapse into a grin. "Okay. Then how about you at least tell me your name."
“Oh.. uh.. Yes.. uh, I’m Mingyu.” he says, still looking away and not meeting Wonwoo’s eyes.
“Hmm, Mingyu,” Wonwoo tried it out, nodding slowly. “Good.. Good name for a good face with a good body.” Wonwoo smirks.
It was the lamest thing Mingyu might have ever heard, then again, It was Wonwoo, and it still did something. “So.. uh, That’s all?” he asks, looking somewhere safely to the left of Wonwoo's face.
Wonwoo considers very seriously for a moment. "Yes, that's all. I guess that's a deal?"
He reaches forward to extend his hand, which Mingyu tentatively takes. Wonwoo's hand was thin and soft and annoyingly, objectively beautiful, which tracked, because that was just what Wonwoo apparently was as a person. "That's a deal." Mingyu says.
"Wow." Wonwoo marvels as he looks down at their joined hands with a slow smirk. "Even your hands are too big."
Mingyu chokes on his spit at that. Now redder than ever. Wonwoo looks at Mingyu and sighs heavily through his nose, peeking around Mingyu to get a glance at his parents, who weren’t even glancing at them. He rolled his eyes and grabbed a fistful of Mingyu's shirt and tugs him.
Mingyu found his face suddenly about three inches from Wonwoo's. Their chests nearly flush. Wonwoo looked up at him, unhurried, taking a leisurely inventory of his face like he was deciding something important and Mingyu looked like he was almost about to pass out.
"Oh.. oh" Mingyu mutters, face absolutely aflame.
"Here's what's going to happen," Wonwoo said, with the composure of someone chairing a very normal meeting. He took Mingyu's wrist and slid his arm around his own waist like rearranging furniture. "I'm going to rotate us so my parents can see you caging me in."
He rotated them.
"You're going to pull me in. Confidently. Like you've been dying for an excuse to grab my ass all night."
Mingyu opened his mouth, then closed it.
"Which you should do now." Wonwoo added, helpfully.
Mingyu froze.
Wonwoo gestured lazily at himself. "I'll handle the acting. I lean back, look appropriately wrecked.. breathe out like you just said something obscene in my ear." Then he takes a brief pause for consideration. "Possibly a small noise. Nothing excessive." He nodded. "We're going for believable."
Mingyu was still staring at him dumbly.
Wonwoo, satisfied with the plan, continued. "Then you walk me out of here looking unbearably smug. Like you're about to absolutely ruin my evening in bed…. And once we're outside–" he patted Mingyu's arm, "...we're going to the twenty-four-hour grocery store down the street."
Mingyu blinked.
Wonwoo smiled faintly. "Because I want ice cream."
He leaned up and said the last part directly into Mingyu's ear. “Got it?”
Mingyu shuddered and nodded. "Got it."
"And Mingyu?" Wonwoo added, guiding Mingyu's hands deliberately to his waist– then lower.
"Yeah?" Mingyu gulped painfully aware of where his hands are resting now.
"I can never thank you enough."
After the performance they just pulled off, their exit is almost cinematic.
Almost.
Mingyu does throw a look over his shoulder at Wonwoo’s parents, like planned. Unfortunately, instead of smug satisfaction, what actually crosses his face is closer to a man silently begging for help.
Wonwoo, meanwhile, is practically vibrating.
“Did you see their faces?” he blurts the second they’re out the door, punching the air like a six-year-old who just won a round of Power Rangers. “They looked like they’d seen a ghost. They never thought I’d actually show up with a boyfriend–”
He falters for half a second.
“I mean. Technically I didn’t. But still.”
He beams at Mingyu.
“That was incredible. You were incredible. Thank you.”
And Mingyu—
Mingyu needs to go and touch grass and seriously reconsider the last forty-five minutes of his life.
Immediately.
Preferably several miles away from Wonwoo.
Because how else is he supposed to explain the boner currently ruining his life?
This has never happened before. Ever. Mingyu has touched people before. Plenty of people. Women to be specific. And he never– never– had this particular problem activated from it.
And yet.
He grabs one ass. One singular ass. A man’s ass at that.
And suddenly his body decides this is the moment to start having opinions.
What the fuck.
If his parents ever got even the faintest whiff of what just happened– of what Mingyu apparently feels now– he’s pretty sure they’d simply kill him on the spot. And the worst part is that the boner is still there. It hasn't gone down. Not even a little. And Wonwoo is talking. He has been talking. For a while now, probably, and Mingyu hasn't retained a single syllable of it, because his entire brain is occupied with one singular prayer: that Wonwoo does not figure out why Mingyu suddenly needs to be somewhere else.
All he knows is that if Wonwoo somehow finds out–
If Wonwoo finds out Mingyu got a boner because of him–
Mingyu might actually die.
"Let's–" Mingyu blurts, his voice cracks slightly. "Let's part ways here."
Wonwoo stops mid-sentence and frowns at him like Mingyu just suggested they jump into running traffic. “But we haven’t gotten my ice cream.”
"You can still get your ice cream.” Mingyu says quickly. “Just.. let’s split here, yeah?”
Wonwoo's face does something small and hurt.
And Mingyu is clearly unwell, because even in the middle of his current crisis his brain decides that this is a great moment and takes that expression and immediately produces thoughts to imagine extremely inappropriate things about Wonwoo looking hurt.
God.
Please.
If the earth could just open up and swallow Mingyu whole right now, that would be fantastic.
“Look,” Mingyu rushes, lowering his voice. “I’ll buy you as much ice cream as you want tomorrow. Just.. let’s go our separate ways and don’t ask questions.” His eyes are wide. He very subtly shifts his stance. Very subtly.
"Wait…" Wonwoo's own eyes go wide, like comically wide. "Don't tell me this is where it ends, please, I–"
Oh my god. He sent Wonwoo personally. God actually sent this man personally to destroy Mingyu.
“No! No, it’s not..” Mingyu runs a hand through his hair. “It’s not the end, just.. uh–”
“Mingyu, what’s wrong?” Wonwoo asks. His excitement is gone now, replaced by genuine concern. “Just tell me.”
That makes Mingyu feel approximately ten times worse.
"Nothing," Mingyu sighs as his shoulders drop. "It's nothing. Come on." He gestures toward the street. "Let's get your ice cream."
Wonwoo does not look convinced.
Not even a little.
But before he can start interrogating him further, Mingyu grabs his hand and drags him towards the glowing sign of the grocery store down the street.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Also: walking fast helps hide things.