Fics like a play called pretend

“Minho.” Jisung said with finality. He still wore that same afflicted expression, but he stood up a little taller, visibly drawing in a deep breath and squaring his shoulders in a way that might have been comical had Minho felt in a laughing mood. “Yeah…?” Minho prompted, side-eying his roommate as he bent down to slip his shoes off. Fixing his gaze at a patch of white-painted wall, Jisung sprang the Question of the Year. “Will you be my—,” a short pause, “—fake boyfriend tomorrow?” (Minho had always thought his roommate didn’t particularly like him—until Jisung asked him to be his fake date for a lunch out with nagging parents. After it, further misunderstandings sent what was supposed to be a single afternoon of pretending spiraling out of control.)

Fics like a play called pretend

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