Youngjae thinks it started around the fifth fake date.

                The weird flutter of his heart, the warmth on his cheeks, the sudden desire to hold his hands and kiss his lips. It was strange. He had always found Daehyun attractive prior to this, but that day in particular changed something in Youngjae’s eyes. The context was even stranger, considering the fact that they went zip-lining with some friends on their fifth fake date, and Daehyun had spent most of the time jumping and screaming his head off about the terrible height. Still, despite the spray of spit and incoherent curses, Youngjae found that his initial attraction to the older male had evolved from a simple admiration for his looks to something more visceral, and the itch to hold him close burned within Youngjae’s fingertips.

                Not that Youngjae minded. Daehyun was – is a nice person. It’s easy to like someone like Daehyun. From his endearingly clueless nature to how he is physically incapable of holding back his smile when he finds something particularly amusing. Youngjae finds that there is a lot to admire about his (fake) boyfriend, contrary to what everyone tells him when they ask why the two of them are still together even after all of these years.

                “You can do so much better than him, honestly.”

                Honestly, what would they know, anyways?

                There are many things about Jung Daehyun that Youngjae admires, ranging from the way he laughs at his phone in the middle of the night to the silly voice he uses after drinking just a little bit too much. Daehyun’s a bit of a fool, sure, but it complements Youngjae’s own playful nature, which many do not seem to take into account when they (rather rudely) evaluate the (fake) couple. Perhaps he can credit this misunderstanding to the more reserved image he displays when out in public, as many of their acquaintances seem to believe Youngjae to be the dourer of the two in their (fake) relationship. But he and Daehyun complement each other quite well. It’s a nice balance, and Youngjae would much rather be with someone who keeps him on his toes every day, like on a tightrope, than to remain in the predictable safety of a net.

                So Youngjae has liked Daehyun for quite a while now. Although his feelings for Daehyun have long since surpassed their (fake) relationship, Youngjae still isn’t quite sure how Daehyun himself feels about the two of them. Each of their (fake) dates end the same, with a cheerful promise of seeing one another again. Youngjae isn’t sure what it means. They’re friends, yes, but (fake) boyfriends as well. Every promise Daehyun makes appears grayer than the black and white way he seems to view the world. And Youngjae is too afraid to ask, the fear of risking this strange friendship they’ve developed over the course of their (fake) relationship too strong.

                There were many reasons to be afraid. Even after five years, Youngjae still does not have even the slightest idea of what his (fake) boyfriend actually finds attractive in real relationships. The most Daehyun’s ever told Youngjae is that he’ll know he’s “found the one” when he finds someone who can cook at least nine different dishes for him every night. And Youngjae can’t even cook, so he’s already failed to match that profile.

                Youngjae didn’t even know if Daehyun considered him attractive at all, odd as that is. Sure, he’s called Youngjae beautiful on many occasions and even complimented his looks and style and hair and skin and whatever, but those were all superficial traits. Youngjae’s a model, for crying out loud! He knows he’s at least good-looking, but did Daehyun like him for more than that? Youngjae just didn’t know.

                Daehyun has never even suggested the idea of dating for real, and after five years of knowing the man, Youngjae knows that when something is bothering him, he attacks it straight away. Had Daehyun ever considered the possibility of a real relationship between the two of him, Youngjae is sure he would have brought it up by now. But he hasn’t.

                So Youngjae doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t bother to ask for change. He doesn’t bother to incite something new. He allows Daehyun to think of them however he pleases, interpret their (fake) relationship as he does, and go along with whatever it is the older male wishes to do.

                And to ensure that Daehyun never questions Youngjae’s real feelings, he does not question Daehyun’s.

                Youngjae does not question it whenever Daehyun continues to hold his hand even when they’re away from their friends, out of the public eye and behind the closed doors of their apartments. He does not question it whenever Daehyun stumbles into Youngjae’s home with a stupidly drunk and affectionate smile, demanding cuddles at such ungodly hours. He does not question it whenever Daehyun comments on his online posts with heart emojis and lengthy, gushy statements about their unbridled (fake) love. And he does not answer whenever Daehyun’s parents ask him if he thinks they’ll get married one day.

                So naturally, when Daehyun requests that they break up, he knows that he cannot do anything other than comply. Hesitate, maybe, but in the end, Youngjae would give Daehyun the freedom he wanted. It was Youngjae, after all, who had asked Daehyun to be his (fake) boyfriend in the first place. It was a simple favor that Youngjae hadn’t intended nor anticipated to go on for this long, and he supposes neither did Daehyun. Youngjae had no right to hold Daehyun back from his wishes as he had complied to Youngjae’s for long enough. 

                So it’s over now, they’re over, their (fake) relationship is over. It hurts, but Youngjae accepts its end in silence, watching Daehyun’s chirpy steps as he leaves the café table with a small smile and an aching heart.  

                He’s hidden his feelings for this long anyways. He supposes he can hold out for a little while longer.

                At least until they go away.

-

                Youngjae can feel all the eyes on him still, even as Yongguk guides him somewhere less crowded, even as Daehyun leaves the party with noticeably lighter shoulders. He dries his (fake) tears, wiping them away, sniffing and staring up at the night sky as Yongguk leans against the balcony’s railing beside him. A part of him wishes he hadn’t gone through with Daehyun’s stupid plan, especially now that everyone in that party now thinks he’s some sort of cheater, but the brief smile of gratitude on his now (fake) ex-boyfriend’s face had somehow made the entire ordeal worth it.

                “I’m sorry about what happened out there,” Yongguk breaks the silence, a sympathetic look in his eyes. “I didn’t realize that the two of you were having such issues.”

                Me neither, Youngjae thinks plainly to himself. A fake break up to their fake relationship. It felt like a real break up, honestly, but he supposes that in a way, it was. A real break up to their fake relationship. Youngjae wonders if it’s supposed to hurt like this. If the pain he feels is fake or true.                                      

                He clears his throat and turns to face Yongguk, a sheepish grin on his lips. “It was my fault,” he manages to say. “I just hope that Daehyun finds it in him to forgive me one day.” As soon as he says it, he has to bite away the urge to smile. It’s such a ridiculous statement, one that he’s sure would have made Daehyun laugh, too, had he been there to hear it.

                Youngjae glances down at his shoes. He’ll miss hearing that laugh, too. Sure, they’re friends, but their friendship was the result of their (fake) relationship. Now that they’re over, there didn’t seem to be much of an initiative to see one another again. At least Youngjae didn’t see one, and he doubted Daehyun would either.

                “The two of you were together for a long time,” Yongguk reflects, crossing his arms over his chest as his own eyes drift to the sky above them. “I know it hurts, but maybe this won’t be such a bad thing. It isn’t the end of the world. The two of you can finally see new people.”

                  Youngjae glances up at Yongguk, an eyebrow raised in slight surprise. He knew that eventually someone would mention the idea of a whole new pool of potential dates to go through, but he hadn’t expected Yongguk of all people to be the first one to suggest it.

                New people.

                See new people.

                But Youngjae didn’t want to.

                “Maybe,” he finally forces himself to say, turning to lean against the railing beside the older male. “But I think it’ll take some time before I’ll be able to really move on.”

                And he isn’t looking forward to it. He has gotten so used to Daehyun, so used to their (fake) relationship that the thought of being in a real one now seemed comically surreal. He didn’t mind the idea of a real relationship, but the fact that he would have to move on into one without Daehyun by his side is what made it feel so surreal. Youngjae just couldn’t imagine being in a relationship, real or unreal, with anyone other than Daehyun.

                “You loved him, right?” Yongguk suddenly asks, delicately enough, but Youngjae still falters.

                The grimace alone is enough of an answer.

-

                Single.

                It’s strange to see that status on his profile after five years. Disappointing, and even regrettable now as his inbox stirs with confessions from friends, old and new. Youngjae lets out a little sigh, clicking from one message to another. His (fake) relationship with Daehyun was there to prevent mishaps like this, but now it was all over, and as soon as Youngjae announced that they had broken up, he had received a plethora of proposals from men and women alike. Youngjae hadn’t realized how many people had been interested in him until that very moment. It was quite overwhelming.

                More than overwhelming, actually. He has no interest in any of these people.

                None of them talked with their mouths full, or picked their teeth with the tip of a fork. None of them giggled so obnoxiously that they choked on their spit, or consistently and foolishly tried to scare themselves out of the hiccups. None of them were Jung Daehyun, and for the first time, Youngjae truly realizes the extent of his feelings for his (fake) ex. It really was a break up.  

                He’s lost something, as you do in real break ups. He’s lost Daehyun, he supposes. But Daehyun was never his, and Youngjae has to remind himself this as he stares at Daehyun’s own profile, at Daehyun’s confusing relationship status.

                It’s complicated.

                And it is. At least to Youngjae, it is.

                (The idea that they broke up, but not really. Or that he’s lost Daehyun, but not really. Or that he misses Daehyun…really, he misses Daehyun.)

                But looking at it from Daehyun’s perspective, Youngjae can’t quite imagine what his (fake) ex means by the status “It’s complicated.” He checks, and neither do any of Daehyun’s friends, apparently. There are no replies from the man himself, and Youngjae can’t help the small, fond smile that tugs at his lips.

                Daehyun always somehow manages to baffle Youngjae, be it with his childish banter and imagination or his oddly affectionate gestures. The man, despite his foolish nature, is strangely enough a mystery. Even after five years, Youngjae has yet to figure out how his mind works. But he supposes that he has no reason to dwell on Daehyun’s life any longer. Why should he, really, when Youngjae himself is no longer a part of it?

                Ah, Youngjae realizes as he exits Daehyun’s profile. He realizes now what he has truly lost.

-

                Youngjae receives a text message after a particularly draining photoshoot. He still has make-up plastered onto his face and the outfit they had put him in is more uncomfortable than it’s worth, but he pauses in his undressing to pick up his phone anyways. He always does when he hears that familiar jingle.

                (He has a ring tone specifically assigned to Daehyun. Daehyun had taken Youngjae’s phone one day and recorded himself doing strange impersonations of the default ringer, and he implemented it into his contact profile himself. Youngjae did not have the heart to change it.)

                 I got a date! the text reads, followed by about six, seven rows of hearts.

                “Youngjae, you have an interview in about an hour!” he hears his manager inform him from outside the dressing room.

                “Thanks!” he calls back, but he sounds distracted, his eyes glued to his screen.

                It’s barely been a week, Youngjae types instinctively, but he erases it all. He chews on his bottom lip, fingers fidgeting with the edge of his phone.

                Who?

                Delete.

                (Too nosy.)

                How?

                Delete.

                (Too intrusive.)

                Do you like him?

                Delete.

                (Too…obvious.)

                Do you think he’ll make you happy? Youngjae types, but then he pauses. He looks up from his phone, catching his own gaze in the mirror that hung on his vanity.

                Happy?

                Did Youngjae even make Daehyun happy? The thought crosses his mind, and he swallows.

                Would Daehyun have broken up with him otherwise?

                Fake, their relationship was fake. Daehyun would have broken up – fake – broken up with him eventually anyways. It didn’t matter if he was happy or not. Or maybe it did. Maybe he wasn’t happy, maybe that’s why he wanted to end it, fake end it, or…

                Youngjae sighs, erasing everything in favor of sending a single thumbs-up back.

                He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t have anything to say.

                If he’s happy, I’m happy, Youngjae decides, but even his own thoughts sound flat. He sets his phone down by the mirror, and he stares quietly at his own reflection.

                Happy.

                He’s not.

-

                Every time Youngjae comes home, he finds himself ignoring half of his apartment.

                It’s childish. Ignoring things on the basis that if I pretend it isn’t there, then it won’t bother me. What a lie, by the way. It bothers him more.

                He has been trying to ignore the things that remind him of Daehyun in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, he’ll be able to ignore his feelings for his (fake) ex, too.

                (It reminds Youngjae of the first time he tried to pretend that his feelings for Daehyun were fake, or at least a strange phase, pretending that they were the result of pure curiosity, the result of a closeness that lingered far past its due date. But it didn’t work that way. It simply bothered him more.)

                So Youngjae ignores the slow cooker that sits on his kitchen counter, because Daehyun had brought it in one day, claiming that anyone could at least pretend that they knew how to cook by using one of those things. He ignores the unfolded blanket that hangs haphazardly across his couch, because Daehyun had brought it in one day, claiming that Youngjae had to have been a penguin of some sort in another life or something, since it was just too damn cold in his apartment to fathom. He ignores the extra chargers plugged into his walls, because Daehyun had brought them in one day, claiming that he didn’t want to bother searching for free outlets when he could just occupy them all himself. He ignores the extra jackets that hung in his closet, the extra razor that sits in his bathroom’s cabinet, ignores the extra key to Daehyun’s apartment, he ignores them all, because they all belonged to Jung Daehyun.

                Youngjae hadn’t even realized how much of Daehyun’s things occupied his home until just then. He spots some comic books, some shoes here and there, unfinished drawings, an old stuffed animal, a tattered band T-Shirt. Even Daehyun’s college diploma sits on the corner of his coffee table, under all of those outdated comic books, and Youngjae briefly wonders just how long that’s been there.

                He can’t ignore them. There’s far too much of them here, far too much of him here.

                And it’s impractical to pretend that half of your apartment just doesn’t exist, so Youngjae finds a few boxes and begins to fill them with Daehyun’s old things. It’ll be easier to ignore them that way. And he can finally sit on his couch without being reminded of a giggling Daehyun wrapped under twenty layers of sweaters and a blanket.

                He folds Daehyun’s clothes, the shirts, the jackets, and interestingly enough, some underwear, tossing them into a box. He collects Daehyun’s chargers, the ones for his phone, the ones for his laptop, and tosses them into another box. He takes Daehyun’s slow cooker, that stupid Crock-Pot he practically worshipped, and he notices that there is still a bit of food in it. Curry, Daehyun’s favorite, but it’s spoiled now, and he tosses it into the tra