— summary: in which seungcheol, a high-collared executive at his dad’s firm, signs up for a fake dating service in an attempt to make everyone believe his life is more than just the office.
— pairing: choi seungcheol x reader.
— genre(s): fluff, humor, angst.
— au: fake dating, office.
— word count: 1676.
— song of the chapter: full moon — the kinks.
masterlist.
part one — congratulations, your request has been accepted!
“This is ridiculous.”
Seungcheol takes a sip of his drink as he turns to look at Mingyu.
The younger is scoffing, eyes fixed on his phone, clutched tightly in one of his hands.
“What are you on about?” Seungcheol questions, not prying his eyes off the documents laid across the table. He’s read them a thousand times, a separate sheet of annotations resting somewhere along the mess. He knows them by heart, even if it’s just been a few days since they were handed to him, but that was to be expected after the many hours he’d spent pouring over the words. “And now that I think about it, you still haven’t given me your notes on the case documents.”
“Notes? It’s been two days, do you really expect me to have read all of it by now? Who do you think I am?” Mingyu exclaims. He sounds worried, and if Seungcheol didn’t know him like the palm of his hand, he would have believed he actually was. It wasn’t any news that Mingyu didn’t care about the case, just as much as he did not care about the firm at all. He doesn’t care about much, anyway, or at least, about the stuff he can’t get some fun out of. “Anyways, it’s about this girl — “
“It’s always about a girl,” Seungcheol mutters between his teeth. Mingyu doesn’t notice, or ignores him if he does, but his rant goes uninterrupted.
“I’ve been seeing her for the last few months and now she won’t leave my apartment,” he finishes. He sits down on one of the couches inside Seungcheol’s office, one of his legs draped over the armrest, much to Seungcheol’s annoyance. “She says she thought we were official? We weren’t even exclusive. I know my place is cute, but listen, I’ve — ”
Seungcheol rolls his eyes.
“It’s your own fault for messing around,” he comments. He taps his fingers on the desk, the rhythm of the taps aligning with that of his heartbeat. Always steady. “I’ve told you that.”
Mingyu lets out a laugh. “Oh, I know you have.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Look, brother,” Mingyu sits up straight. His phone rests discarded on the couch, not deserving Mingyu’s attention any longer. “You know I admire you, and all that…” And all that. “But, honestly, maybe what you need is to mess around. You know, loosen up, get out of the office … just a little bit.”
“I don’t, Mingyu,” Seungcheol answers with a shake of his head. One of his hands clutches a pen, movements halted. “And besides, I don’t have time for that. I have to do both your work and mine.”
“Does that mean you’ll read over my documents for me?” Mingyu smiles. “Cheol, come on, what would one going out do? We’re not going to lose this client just because you go out on a date, are we?”
He’s not surprised.
Looking back, it had always been like that.
He had grown up alone, with only Mingyu by his side and even then not really, because, contrary to him, the younger never had any trouble making friends. He’d say it was all because of his dad, and the way he used to look up to him ever since he was a little kid — always expectant. He’d always told Seungcheol how much alike they were, both in attitudes and in destinies, and how, if following the right path, he was sure he’d never let him down.
But it was also because of him, and his own expectations, and feeling that if Mingyu was allowed to let go if it meant he had to hold on a little tighter, he’d do it. He’d always known his brother was not made to stand the loneliness that came with following their father, or at least, not as much as he was. They were different people with different needs, after all, and as much as Seungcheol was comfortable with silence, there are times he wishes it wasn’t like that.
There are times he wishes he had separated himself from it all, even if just a little bit. There are times he actually wishes he had a friend. He wishes he had a friend he could actually trust, who could actually be there for him, and not like the business people he was friendly with. The ones he sometimes went out with, the people he grew up next to, all of them just as immersed in the money daze. He wishes it all went past parties and business deals, an actual bond that could not be broken by envy or convenience.
“A date?”
“Yeah, a date!” Mingyu exclaims. “When was the last time you went out on one of those, huh? College?”
“I think?” Seungcheol frowns. Actually, he doesn’t remember dating in college, but he’s not about to tell Mingyu that. “Listen, just get your notes ready by tonight, yeah?”
“Yeah, yeah,” his brother answers.
Mingyu rolls his eyes as he stands up, phone once again in his hand. He walks over to the door, a smile on his lips despite his ‘annoyed’ expression. Seungcheol knows Mingyu is not going to comply, but he tells him anyway. Just like he always has. It’s part of why they get along so well, because they would be too lost without the other.
“Oh, and Gyu?” Mingyu opens the door, but turns to his brother before leaving. “Just talk to her, man. Try to not be an asshole, though.”
Mingyu laughs, and Seungcheol shakes his head. He smiles.
Out of the both of them, he’s always been the one that actually thinks things through.
Night has fallen and the room is quiet.
Moonlight breaks through the window and soaks the room, documents shining under the
Compared to a few hours prior, not much has changed except for the color of the sky and the scrambly document that was placed on his desk, along with a ‘here you go, loser!’ written on a hot pink post-it note. The entire office smells of coffee and leather, a product of the almost-new furniture and the ever-brewing coffee machine. Is it really that easy to tell that Seungcheol never leaves?
Taking off his glasses, Seungcheol runs a hand through his face after taking a good look at the clock. He finds it funny that the little hands are the only thing that seems to be moving in the ever-present stillness that he’s immersed himself in; the only indication of movement being the passing of time. His days are always measured in just how much he can get done in an hour, how fast he can get to places, and how long business meetings extend to. They’re composed of work, strictly, and he doesn’t notice, because it’s how it’s always been. It’s ironic how he never notices time passing in-between, because time seems to have taken notice of him.
He’s spent the past few years trying to be a good boss, and he can’t help but wonder if that’s all people think he is. He can’t help but wonder if that’s all he is, anyway, because it’s the only thing he can think of when he thinks of himself. A good boss and a good brother, and everything else is nothing but a sporadic in-between.
He’s heard his friends say it, his mind going back to the occasional bar outings and business parties. He remembers the sly comments here and there, the conversations he never got involved in, the stories he could not understand. He remembers the feeling left out, resorting to steadily drinking out of a glass of water. Predictable.
And then he remembers one of the stories that Jeonghan, one of his college friends, told them a few months before, of him signing up for a fake dating service when his parents were on his back about him finally settling down. He can’t help thinking of Mingyu when he thinks of his friend, and how he seems to get along with him better than he ever did. They were too much alike.
He remembers laughing, shaking his head, wondering the lengths he’d go to only to maintain the fun, and lifestyle, he’d always had. He remembers what it all was — a pretense. And he knows that just like Jeonghan, he had always been good at pretending.
He unlocks his phone, a picture of him and Mingyu looking back at him from his screen. It was a family trip, the both of them and their dad, just when Mingyu had graduated from college a few years back. He’s smiling at the camera, and Mingyu is probably staring at someone walking nearby, because he’s not focusing on the photo. He lets out a little laugh.
He opens the chat with Jeonghan, and scrolls up to find the number he had texted him. He hadn’t asked for it, and had chuckled when Jeonghan had sent it, but he’s thankful for his insistence.
“You laugh now, but who knows, you might need it someday.”
He takes a sip from his coffee and winces when it burns his tongue. He knows it’s out of nerves, with the bouncing of his leg giving him away. He knows he’s got nothing to lose, but even then, he can’t bring himself to calm down over the thought of possibly meeting someone new in a matter unrelated to the office. He knows Mingyu would laugh if he were to look at him now, shaking over the thought of a date… and not even a real one.
Taking a deep breath, he taps on the contact and types. He stares at the message, eyes going over the words time and time again. Does it sound good? Is it too casual? Does he — shaking his head, he sends it.
He’s just asking someone to fake date him. It’s alright. It’s almost like a business deal. It’s a cold, impersonal —
It’s not even a whole minute before he gets a reply.
[from unknown number, 21:34 pm] Hi! Yeah sure, why not?