The week seems to pass quickly.

Part of it is because Hak keeps himself busy; between rugby practice and his part-time job at the record shop, there isn't a lot of time left in between for playing lapdog. He tells himself it's because he's kept busy, and not because he'd went out of his way to pick up a few extra shifts -- and certainly not because Hak's started going on morning and evening runs around the block in order to fill out his schedule. And even if that were the case, and he is suddenly the world's biggest coward, it's not like he's left himself enough time to really sit and think on it. Hak is lazy at his core, and would rather nap through his afternoon break than sort out feelings or intentions. Gross.

Monday becomes Tuesday without fuss. He answers Yona's frantic texts about Soo-Won with minimal heartache. He sleeps through his alarm on Wednesday, but makes up for it by jogging an extra half-mile before hauling ass to practice.

By the afternoon, he's sorted himself out. Work is slow, so Hak passes the time by sorting through misplaced records and cassette tapes until his lunch break. It's just another day, just another six hours of customer service, and he's already mentally back home in bed when the door jingles and Yoon's marching up to the counter with purpose.

Hak does not move from his seat. "We don't carry textbooks here. Try the bookstore across the street."

"Very funny, Thunder Beast." Yoon, true to form, doesn't budge, and instead stands there, arms folded across his chest, looking every bit the mother he claims he isn't. "I'm not here for class."

"I'm very busy," Hak says.

"Busy being stupid, maybe." Ouch. Well, he's not wrong. Hak feigns nothing and continues re-alphabetizing the rock records instead of making proper eye contact. When he doesn't move, Yoon powers on. "This is an intervention."

Yeah, this is the last thing he needs right now. So much for having sorted himself out. "Don't you have exams to study for?"

"Stop trying to change the subject."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Yoon sighs and then leans forward, planting his hands down on the counter. "I never took you for a coward."

Harsh. He resents that. He's no coward — if he were a coward, he'd have backed out of this mess he's gotten himself in already and played the victim. Hak would argue that it takes more courage to carry on, even with all of the heartache attached, even with all of the guilt that continually stews in his gut every time he thinks about Yona and the way she'd sighed when he'd pressed his teeth against her throat.

Which he shouldn't be thinking about now. He should think about literally anything else. Hak shakes his head and raises a brow instead at Yoon, who's begun standing on his toes in order to look more imposing.

It won't work. Hak has more than a head on him in height. "I get enough lecturing from the princess, thanks. At least don't force me to endure it while I'm on the clock."

"I can't get ahold of you otherwise!" Yoon narrows his eyes. "If I have to hold you hostage at work I will. Don't think I'm above it."

"I thought we could bond over being working class."

"Stupid martyr." Yoon huffs and stands back, arms crossed again. "Break up with her. Or call it off! It's not like you two are actually dating anyway, and you know it's not a good idea—"

Hak busies himself with re-realphabetizing. "Don't think that's your decision to make, actually."

"You're so emotionally constipated, I swear." Yoon plops his book bag on the counter and makes it very clear that he's not going anywhere. "Look. Yona might be denser than a sack of hammers but I'm not. You're not fooling me, you know. Pretending to date the girl that you're in love with is sick and it's hurting you. Stop trying to pretend like it's not."

Hak barks out a self-deprecating laugh. "I have higher standards than that."

"You have been following her around like a lovesick puppy for as long as I've known the two of you. And I've known you for years." At some point Hak must've looked up, because now he's staring Yoon in the eye, and he's pointing a finger accusingly at him. "Yona might be too blind to see it but I'm not. And she might be stupid but she still cares, and I can only do so much damage control before something really bad happens."

"It's under control," Hak says, jaw set.

The back of his neck feels hot, but whatever, it's nothing he can't handle. It's summer, after all. Summer, and he's spent the entire week avoiding his so-called girlfriend in favor of running miles by himself and helping Mundok repair the back fence. It's just a little bit of sunburn.

"It's not right," Yoon huffs. "You know it's not right! You might be okay with sacrificing your feelings for her sake but she's not, you stupid bear!"

"Bear."

"I've met animals more emotionally responsible than you are." Mother is so harsh. Hak doesn't bow beneath his scolding. "Break up with her!"

This is annoying. Hak takes his leave from behind the counter and takes the records he's alphabetized about five times now with him, Yoon hot on his trail. "I said it's under control. You worry too much."

"It will destroy her if she breaks your heart," Yoon threatens. "Even if it doesn't matter to you what happens to your feelings, it matters a lot to her. You have to know that."

Of course he does. It's why the guilt keeps him from sleeping at night. It's why he can't stop feeling filthy for wanting her under him, or on top of him, or for staring longingly at the pale, freckled length of her neck. If it was as simple as merely breaking up with her then he wouldn't be in this situation right now. Does Yoon seriously think he doesn't know Yona's feelings? That he's not intimately aware of them at any given moment?

Hak sorts a few records in place and doesn't say anything.

"... She's been calling me every day, you know, worried about you. When was the last time you contacted her?"

Does it matter? "I told her to talk to Soo-Won."

Yoon sighs and rubs his temples. "So you're handing the problem off to him now?"

Hak grits his teeth. "She's not a problem."

"This whole situation is a problem!" Yoon tugs on his sleeve. "Hak, listen to me. The longer you let this go on, the worse it's going to be. Don't you still want to be her friend when this all is over?"

What kind of stupid question is that? He scoffs. He'll be Yona's friend for as long as she'll allow him, heartache be damned. As if he's pathetic enough to put his feelings on her, as if he'd ever force her to make a choice like that. "Don't see how that's relevant."

"Of course you don't!" He throws his hands up. "You're so determined to die with your stupid crush that you don't see anything wrong with letting her take advantage of you. And she barely even knows she's doing it!"

Yona isn't taking advantage of anyone. If anything, it's the other way around; Hak lets her think this is all pretend — because for her it is, this so-called romance, and she plays dress up and dances at rock shows and trends on twitter — and then he sucks on her neck and resists the urge to feel her up. He's the one taking advantage. And that's why he can't see her right now.

"I'm not in love with her," — Yoon barks out a laugh — "so cool it. I'm doing a favor for a friend. Didn't think that was a bad thing."

"I take it back. You're both stupid!"

Maybe so. But he's not going to ruin this for her. It's the first time Yona has fought so valiantly for her agency, has stuck her neck out for something that she wants and put the work in for it, too — and this means something to her, romance and happily ever after, and, more importantly, proving herself to her father — and Hak won't be the one to take that fight away. Son Hak is no coward. If nothing else can be said about him, he thinks, he's at least a ride or die. So what if he chooses die?

Hak sighs and turns to face Yoon. The blond kid's got his brows knitted together so tightly that there's a wrinkle there, and he's much too young to be so stressed; Hak rustles his hair and pushes past him, expression neutral.

"At least talk to her, will you?"

"She put an end date on it," Hak says. "Relax. After this week everything will go back to normal."

Yoon's laugh is foreboding. "Things have never been normal between you two. And they're not about to start now."

.

After work on Thursday is his rugby game.

Stretching in the burning sun is almost terrible enough to distract him from his guilt. Hak lays on the grass and stares into the bright light overhead and wonders if laying here long enough would prove enough to kill him. Or at least spontaneously combust. That much would be enough. Catching fire and simmering until he's nothing but bones and charred guts would be punishment enough. Maybe that way he'd feel sorted out.

"Hak!" Kija calls, jogging over. "Hak!"

Hak makes no attempt to move. He keeps laying there and squinting into the sun.

"I'll help you stretch your quads," he says, then drops down to his knees beside him. Kija takes Hak's left leg in his hand and begins folding it up to his chest — as if he needs the help, Hak thinks, amused, but without laughing. "And hold!"

His enthusiasm is almost as melting as the sun. Hak exhales and closes his eyes. "You hold."

"You're heavy. Hold yourself. Don't get lazy! We need you to be on your A game if we want to win this!"

"Ha. Begging for help now?"

Hak doesn't need to open his eyes to know Kija's blushing red. "I would never belittle myself in such a way."

He's too easy to tease. It makes the weight in his chest a little lighter, just barely.

But Hak will take what he can get. "Since when are you a team player?"

"I have always known the importance of teamwork!" Kija says, very insistently. He presses more firmly down on his leg and Hak chuffs, feeling the tight muscles in his thighs pull. Perhaps it's not in his best interest to heckle the guy while he's got him effectively pinned. "It's you who has a hard time swallowing your pride and putting in an honest effort!"

"Not everyone likes to burn out in the first half," wheezes Hak.

"I have never burnt out! Not once! It's honorable to give every game my all."

It's rugby, for goodness sake. Honor has nothing to do with it. "It's a game," Hak says, pushing back. Kija relents, and then he's pressing Hak's right leg to his chest instead, and the burn begins all over again. "It's meant to be fun."

"I have fun," Kija says sincerely. "I love winning."

Spoken like a true try hard. He might tease him further, if cries of his name weren't sounding from the gaggle of a crowd that's begun to gather around the stands. Hak thinks nothing of it at first — he's always had fans, that much is normal — but since branding himself Yona's boytoy, there's been an influx of strangers showing up at his games, in hopes to catch a glimpse of the guy who's all over her instagram account.

And, well, he supposes he can't fault them for it. It's a little annoying, sure — Hak doubts they know anything about the sport, and they're certainly not quiet about the reason they're here (to oogle him, mostly) — but in the end it probably means they're doing a good job. If people believe they're an item, no matter the circumstances, then all of this has been worth it.

Besides. There are worse fates than being Yona's assumed booty call. He's heard enough whispered-giggles about his ass the past few weeks to put the pieces together.

Kija lets him go and yanks Hak up to sit. "Oh," he says. "You have visitors."

"Great," Hak sighs, not bothering to look over.

"They're coming over."

"What."

"Oh!" Kija says, suddenly very bright. "Yona! Hello! Forgive me, I didn't recognize you right away, what with all of the…"

"The black?" A familiar giggle makes something in his gut drop. "Yeah, sorry! But it looks good, right?"

"Of course! You look lovely in everything."

Hak's still staring at his cleats, and that burning along the back of his neck is back again. Well. It's prime time for the sun to burn him. He only wonders if he'd had the foresight to bring aloe with him this time.

"Hi, Hak," she says, finally, shyly.

It makes him burn all the more. Fuck it. There's no balm for this ache. Hak scrubs at his face and then dumps his entire water bottle over his head. "Princess."

He can practically see her expression — lips pressed together, brows furrowed, pouting, pouting. It's too cute. "We talked about this."

Yeah. They had. But he also doesn't have a great excuse as to why he's been ignoring her calls the past few days, and sort of feels like burying himself in the field instead of facing her light. He only hopes she's wearing something with a high neck — but why would she, he thinks, almost expressively, when the whole goal had been to show the damn hickies off? There's nothing about this that's meant to be private. Everything they do is for show.

Christ. Now he's thirsty. Oh well. "How'd you know I'd be here?"

"I asked Mundok! Tae-Yeon was really excited that I asked to come along." She drops to sit beside him, and then she's sitting in the grass, too, and he tries not to stare at her bare knees, so pale against the green of the lawn. "I hope that's okay?"

There's no reason why it shouldn't be. Hak doesn't blush, so instead he ponders sunscreen and says, "I didn't think you'd be interested in sports."

"I'm interested if you're playing," she says, as if it's not a shot directly to his heart. "Besides! You spend so much time supporting me, it's only fair."

"You don't owe me anything," Hak says, staring at his lap, his shorts, the ant crawling its way up Yona's pale thigh. Fuck. He's looking at her.

He's looking at her. Looks her over, in her black cut-off shorts and laced-up tank top, and those hickies have certainly bruised, a stark purple, in the exact shape of his mouth. She wears them so proudly, so openly, as if there's no shame in what he's done to her. It makes him lightheaded.

Or maybe that's the heat. The heat's getting to him. This shouldn't be so weird. It's just Yona. Yona, who he's sworn to help. Yona, on her pretty pedestal, smiling nervously at him, tucking a curl behind her ear, and man, does her hair look like fire in the daylight.

"I know," she says then, and there's an honesty in her eyes, a vulnerability that makes him almost sort of angry. "But I wanted to."

He can't live like this. He has a role to play, after all, and they have an audience — it would be foolish to squander the opportunity and she must know that. This burning in his chest, this rawness he feels, like his stupid heart has been grated to pieces the longer he looks at her, all of it — he's the one making up stories in his head. Son Hak knows his place. Knows what he's about.

Most importantly, he knows Yona's place, too. Hak knows what this is all about, so he swallows the stupid things, like attraction and feelings and embraces the rational. Hak the goth pushes her down onto the grass and leans over her, expression grim.

She gasps as she falls back. Stares up at him with those wide eyes and threatens to undo all of the mental work he's done the past few days, just like that.

"Gotta make it look good, right?"

She blinks once, twice. "I didn't mean to make this harder for you."

Stupid. What, does she think he's weak or something? Hak is the farthest thing; he lifts weights and buries his feelings and scares the internet with his looming height.

It makes him laugh. "It'd be stupid to waste an opportunity, right?"

The way she's looking up at him is more damning than the sunlight. Hak thinks he might just catch ablaze for real this time. "Don't you have stretching to do?"

"I'm far more flexible than you'll ever be."

"Duh. I'm not an athlete." But she looks him over, then, and Hak feels naked, as her eyes scan over his shoulders, his chest. He's glad he's still wearing his jersey. Doesn't really know what he'll do with the feeling, though, so he swallows it, and attraction turns over in its grave, disturbed. "... I don't need to stretch."

"Wanna learn?"

She laughs and something lifts off of his chest. "You'll crush me."

He'd never dream of it. "You brought Tae-Yeon."

"And Mundok."

Well. Maybe he should have thought this through a little more thoroughly. Oh well. The old man will understand, if he explains it thoroughly enough — and if not who cares, Hak thinks, backing off and offering the pretty princess a hand, so that she may sit on the throne she so deserves. Who cares. The more people who think he's dirtying her the better. That's the whole point.

"Sorry," she says, and Hak drip-dries in the field like the fucking fool he is. Yona stares at his damp hair. "I can get you some more water if you want?"

"Eh. Tell the old man to buy me some."

"I have legs," Yona says, then stands, dusting off her lap. "Good luck! I can't wait to see the game. I don't really know the rules, but Tae-Yeon is really excited to explain it to me, so…"

Hak flicks that ant off of her thigh finally. Tries not to think about being eye-level with her legs and says, "I'll try to put on a suitable show then."

"Just have fun!" Yona insists, then pushes his damp hair back, and yeah, there's nothing more bright in this world than this girl and her blaze of hair. No amount of aloe will ever be able to soothe this burn. Her thumb rests on his forehead and then she leans down to press a kiss there.

.

"I'm not ten, you know. I don't need ice cream after the big game."

The sight of Yona blushing is so innocently nostalgic that Hak actually takes comfort in it. If he really tries, he could pretend that this is their normal, their usual — Yona pinks while he teases her for treating him like a child, but she still swipes her daddy's credit card without second thought, and they fall into this easy rhythm. It's comfortable, when he's playing the part she'd assigned him long ago. Hak knows how to be the big brother. He's been doing it for most of his life.

"Don't complain when you've got it all over your face," she scolds, but there's still a delightful heat rising in her cheeks, and maybe she's been burnt by the sun, too. What a pair they make. "Use a napkin!"

"Yes ma'am."

"And don't call me that! It makes me feel old."

Ancient. Hak stifles a laugh.

She's younger than he is. Still, it's literally his right to be a gremlin at this point, and so he does no such thing, and instead continues merrily licking the cone she's bought him like a slob.

It makes Tae-Yeon laugh, at least. Mundok laughs less, as he leans forward to wipe the face of his youngest grandson — the one who, at least, has the excuse of maybe not knowing better, considering he's ten and Hak is nearly an adult.

Oh well. If he's having fun, then there's no harm in it. And if it makes Yona pout, then it's all in good humor. It's nice to be able to pretend for a bit that he's not uncontrollably uncomfortable with everything, that he's not graciously guilty over touching her in a way he's always promised himself he'd never. When she has his hoodie pulled on over her, he can't see the marks of the beast, trailing along her clavicle.

Instead, she looks adorable, swaddled in all of that fabric. Yona is a third of his size, maybe, and has to roll the sleeves of his sweatshirt up in order to use her fingers. It hangs longer than her shorts, and a lesser man might run away with the thought, but Hak's feelings are in time out, so instead he thinks it strictly cute and nothing else.

Her legs really are twiggy. Sweatshirt down to her knees and chunky combat boots past her ankles.

"Thanks, Yona!" Tae-Yeon cheers, before digging in again.

"Yes," Mundok says, nibbling idly on his cone. "It was very thoughtful of you to treat us. Even if you wrestled my wallet out of my hands."

"I had to! It would defeat the purpose of me treating you if I let you pay."

"She's surprisingly strong when she wants to be," Hak says, licking his lips. He tries not to notice Yona's watchful eyes. "Like an animal."

"Hey!"

"Feral animal."

"Is that anyway to talk to your girlfriend?"

It gives him pause. Yona says it so fearlessly, so factually that it actually catches him off guard. It's a lie, but it's the same lie they've been telling for ages now, and it shouldn't make his heart lurch in his throat the way it does.

And here he was, thinking he'd finally smashed the damn thing and was done with it. Hak's too old for hope — he pops the ballooning feeling in his chest and leans back in his chair, ignoring the blossoming glee on his grandfather's face.

Right. Now he'll really never live it down. He might as well make the best of it. "Sorry, master."

Her cheeks nearly match the shade of her hair. "I— Don't— What!"

"What?" Hak raises a brow at her. "That pet name is no good either? I like it enough."

It's just a little bit of payback. If she's going to openly broadcast their little charade in front of his grandfather and younger brother, then she can deal with being outed as a brat. And, well, if Mundok's choked laughter is anything, maybe he's outed himself a bit, too, but whatever. Hak can deal with people thinking he lets Yona call the shots. It's not like it's a lie. That much, at least, is comforting. It's nice to not feel like he's lying.

But then that's not quite fair either. Hak supposes he hasn't been doing a lot of lying lately. He deserves no awards for his acting abilities — it's not hard for him to act like he's into Yona. It's like second nature, easy as breathing, and if it was more difficult to be in love with her, Hak thinks this whole thing would be better for everyone. At least that way, he wouldn't feel dirty, every time he held her hand or helped her down the front steps of her home.

What a mess. Ugh. And he'd spent so long this week trying to put it out of mind. So much for setting himself straight.

Yona nudges his foot. She's seated across from him, and he does not meet her halfway in this game of footsies. It's not what she means, he tells himself — she'd meant to kick him, or punish him for his mouth, but if he's being honest, Hak would rather she punish him by shoving him back against a wall and threatening him or something.

Thoughts like that will get him in trouble. Hak lets her kick him with kitten strength and struggles not to pretend like she's flirting with him.

Yona's mouth presses together. Ah. She's pouting again. Cute.

He's so fucked. Beyond fucked. She's not his to lose. She will literally be relieving him of his duty in two or three days. Who is he to be so greedy?

"Maybe I'm just not a very good boyfriend," Hak says then, voice low.

Yona huffs. "You're so mean."

"But you like that," he says, as if it's his place at all. As if it's even a little bit the truth. But this is what she wants him for, isn't it? A sharp-tongued bad boy.

"I'd like it better if you'd use your napkin."

He finally looks her in the eye. Makes a big show of licking his lips clean, then leans toward her, elbows flat on the table, and what the hell, he thinks — what's the point in sparing his feelings if there won't be much of him left anyway? He's already in too deep. He might as well commit and finish the job, for Yona's sake.

He hears gasping from a few tables over. Hears girls reaching into their bags for their cells. And of course they know who he is, who Yona is — Yona has always demanded attention. Yona's always been a celebrity in her own right, and here he is, adopted nobody in a sweaty uniform and cleats, eyeliner surely smudged around his eyes.

Take what you want, he thinks. Take all of me.

Tae-Yeon gasps. Yona blinks, surprised, but never once takes her eyes off of him. This time, he allows himself to watch her watch him, wearing his clothes, and yeah, maybe he is just a stupid meathead after all. Hak's too tired to chase his feelings in circles anymore, too tired to play roundup — he wants her. He's always wanted her. He knows she doesn't want him.

Yona's a good actress. Surprisingly good. Yona acts amused, as she leans forward, napkin in hand, and wipes his face clean. Gasps and squeaks when he lets his tongue drag across her finger tips, like she's playfully exasperated at his bad manners. Like she wants anything to do with his mouth.

It's not that Yoon was wrong. Yoon's been right the entire time. But what else can Hak do? He's been Yona's since the day they met. What she wants she gets. And if she wants it to be good, if she wants this to be over with so that they can do back to the way they were before, then he'll deliver. He'll watch her marry Soo-Won and stand at her wedding and be the damn godfather to their children, if she wants. He'll die with these feelings.

"You're such a twerp," Yona mumbles, then bites her lip, and god, what he wouldn't give to kiss her, just once.

He doesn't. Hak cracks his neck and grins crookedly. "Does my master have any complaints?"

"Yes," she says, then goes quiet. Waits until Mundok and Tae-Yeon begin talking amongst themselves to scoot her chair closer to his. "... I thought you were upset with me."

"I don't have any reason to be upset with you."

"You were avoiding me." She bunches up the napkin in her hand and then drops it onto the center of the table. "I missed you."

It's so simple and honest. He hates her for it. "I thought you wanted time with Soo-Won."

"He's busy." Of course he is. Why would he be attentive when Hak needs him most? "And… I don't know. I've been thinking a lot about what Yoon said."

"Yona."

She shrugs her shoulders. Tries to smile, but it's more watery now, and Hak hates her for that, too. Hates how quickly her tears can force his hand. More than that, he hates how she doesn't even have to try — and he knows she's not trying to weaponize those feelings against him. Yona wouldn't dream of it. She's enthusiastic and genuine in everything she does, and just once, Hak wishes he had her courage.

He's a coward after all.

"... What do I need for the party?"

It brightens her, just a bit. Yona bumps his ankle again with her foot, and Hak bumps her back this time. "Do you have a suit?"

"... Can I add chains to it."

"I'd be offended if you didn't."