Nepteoe
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Summary
When Euijoo had first seen Nicholas in class, he came home to his shared apartment with Yuma and immediately told him that he was in love.
"The fuck? With who?" Yuma had asked.
"I don't know his name, but he's the hottest man I've ever seen."
That was last week. Now, said hottest-man-ever is right in front of him, flashing him a flirty smile.
(OR: Nicholas runs a kissing booth. Euijoo keeps coming back for more.)
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Kei had been on about this couples retreat for ages—the kind of thing Euijoo never would’ve initiated himself. Still, he liked Kei. Liked Fuma too. And despite how much he hated the phrase “double date” he didn’t mind the occasional hangout between the four of them. So when Nicholas found a rental house just outside Tokyo—quiet, near the coast, fully stocked—Euijoo didn’t put up much of a fight. It was cute, and private enough, theoretically, to make it worth it.
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“Yeah, why not,” Nicholas says with a laugh of his own, slumping back into his seat with crossed arms, a satisfied cat. “I wear a couple dresses and skirts and whatnot; you tell your uncle your girlfriend can’t speak Korean and then, boom. You and I get to live it up on the beach… Besides, I know how much you miss it there.”
He clears his throat, but his voice cracks anyway when he adds, “What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t do this for you?”
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Euijoo peels the wax off with his thumb nail, flicking the envelope open and tossing it onto the kitchen table with the rest of his junk mail. The contents are just as fancy as the envelope itself. Thick cardstock and handwritten calligraphy with sharp ink. Taunting him.
The honor of your company is requested at the marriage of Koga Yudai and Murata Fuma.
(OR: Euijoo asks his childhood crush to pretend to be his new boyfriend at his ex-boyfriend’s wedding. Nicholas says yes.)
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Because the guy standing in front of him is the exact same person as the guy who was on his computer screen with a dick down his throat. College Cutie.
“Hey,” the guy says, then chuckles. Heeseung hates that he recognizes the sound, hates that he’s heard this guy laugh on camera, hates that he knows the exact way his lips curve up into a smile, the way his nose scrunches, the way his eyes turn into crescents.
“I am…so sorry,” Heeseung finally manages to stammer out.
“I think you got exposed more than I did,” the guy says. “You’re a premium subscriber, though. That’s cool.”
Or: Heeseung's favorite camboy shows up in his lecture hall and all hell breaks loose.