Chapter Text
The ICU was filled with soft blue-white light and the steady sound of machines helping Felix breathe. For Chan and Minho, sitting on the hard bench against the far wall, the world had shrunk to the size of that hospital bed.
In the center of that world was Felix, still drifting in the hazy afterglow of sedation, his breathing finally finding a steadier, more natural tempo beneath the hum of the high-flow oxygen. And guarding the foot of that bed, like a guardian who refused to sleep, was Hyunjin.
Felix looked like a fallen star. The high-flow oxygen mask covered the lower half of his face, its constant hiss-whoosh acting as a substitute for the breath he couldn't quite master on his own. His skin was the colour of skimmed milk, and his hands, usually so busy and expressive, lay limp on the white sheets like pale lilies.
Hyunjin sat on the edge of the hard plastic chair, his feet dangling. Hyunjin hadn't let go of Felix’s hand for three hours. He was slumped slightly in that oversized plastic chair, his head nodding with exhaustion, but every time Felix’s finger so much as twitched, Hyunjin’s eyes would snap open, sharp and alert.
He looked too small for the room, but his eyes were sharp, focused and full of something strong and protective. He reached through the gap in the bed railing, his small fingers carefully avoiding the IV line as he brushed a stray lock of blonde hair from Felix’s forehead.
"Felie," Hyunjin whispered. His voice was so soft, almost breaking but steady. He had spent the last hour watching their parents fall apart, and some part of his eight-year-old soul had decided that if the adults were broken, he had to hold everything together.
"I know it's dark where you are," Hyunjin murmured, leaning his forehead against the cold metal rail. "And I know the loud voices made it scary. But I’m going to tell you a story, okay? And you just have to follow my voice. It's like a golden string. Just hold onto it."
He took a small breath.
"Once upon a time," Hyunjin began softly, "there was a little prince who lived in a castle made of lemon cake. The walls were yellow and sweet, and the windows were made of sugar glass. And the prince had a bodyguard; a big lion who never ever let the monsters in."
Hyunjin squeezed Felix’s hand. He felt the pulse beneath the skin. It was faint, but it was there.
"But one day," Hyunjin’s voice shook, a single tear tracking down his cheek, "a big storm came.” He swallowed. “The clouds suddenly become loud, so loud that the castle started to shake. The prince got scared, and he ran into a deep, dark forest to hide where it was quiet."
In the bed, Felix’s monitors gave a tiny, sharp beep. His heart rate was climbing, reacting to the familiar beat of his brother’s voice.
"But the forest is too quiet, Felie," Hyunjin whispered, leaning closer until his lips were near Felix’s ear. "It’s cold there. And you don't have to stay. The storm is gone. I chased it away. I told the clouds to be quiet, and they listened to me because I’m the bodyguard."
His voice softened.
"The sun is coming out back at the bakery, Felie. Appa is making the bread that smells like vanilla, and Dada is waiting to give you the biggest, softest hug. But you have to come back. You have to breathe the real air, not the machine air."
Watching him, Chan felt a lump in his throat. He pressed his head against the cold hospital wall. He looked at Hyunjin’s small, hunched shoulders and felt a wave of nausea. He had spent years trying to build a fortress for his family, only to realize he had been the one to leave the gate open for the storm. He shifted closer to Minho.
"He’s so big, Min," Chan whispered, his voice a ghost of a sound. "When did he get so big?"
Minho didn't turn his head. He stood perfectly still, his arms wrapped tight around his own chest as if he were trying to keep his soul from leaking out. His gaze was fixed on the way Hyunjin was humming to Felix and tucking the edge of the hospital blanket around Felix’s, on Felix’s pale hand. He thought how he had failed to manage the only thing that mattered.
"He’s been big for a long time, Chan-ah. We just didn’t notice he was standing tall."
Chan closed his eyes and he could see it: the day they brought three-year-old Hyunjin home.
The house had been so quiet then, too quiet. They had spent months preparing. They had painted the spare room a soft, calming sage green and filled it with plush stars and wooden trains. When the social worker finally walked through the door with a small, spindly-legged boy clutching a tattered velvet rabbit, Chan’s heart had nearly stopped.
Hyunjin had been a silent child at first. He had large, obsidian eyes that seemed to take in everything but reveal nothing. He had spent his first three days in the house sitting in the exact center of his new rug, staring at the door.
"Do you think he likes us?" Chan had asked Minho late one night, standing in the doorway of the nursery.
Minho, who had been nervously trying to bake every type of cookie known to man to see which one would make the boy smile, had sighed. "He doesn't know us yet, Channie. We're just the people with the cookies."
But the breakthrough had come on the fourth day. Chan had been sitting on the floor, pretending to be very interested in a set of colourful blocks. He had accidentally knocked over a tower, and the clack-clack-clack of the wood had made Hyunjin flinch.
Chan had immediately frozen. "Oh, sorry, Jinnie! Dada’s clumsy."
Hyunjin had looked at the fallen blocks, then at Chan. Then, with a tiny, hesitant hand, he had reached out and pushed a red block toward Chan.
"Fix?" Hyunjin had whispered. It was the first word he’d spoken to them.
Chan had nearly cried right then and there. He had spent the next four hours building and rebuilding towers, and by the time the sun set, Hyunjin was sitting in Chan’s lap, his small head resting against Chan’s chest. He was their Prince from the very beginning- delicate, observant, and possessed a quiet grace that made the house feel like a palace.
Two years later, the noise-storm arrived.
When they decided to adopt again, they had been terrified. Hyunjin was almost six then, the center of their universe. He was a sensitive soul who loved his routine and his quiet mornings with Minho in the kitchen.
"What if he thinks we're replacing him?" Chan had worried, pacing the living room. "What if he thinks he's not enough?"
But then came Felix.
Eighteen-month-old Felix didn't enter the house; he exploded into it. He was a bundle of blonde curls, freckles, and a laugh that sounded like bells. But he was also delicate. He arrived with a bag of medications and a detailed schedule for chest percussion therapy. He was a beautiful, sun-drenched puzzle with pieces that didn't always fit.
Minho remembered the moment of the introduction vividly. He had been holding Felix, who was currently trying to eat Minho’s earlobe, when Hyunjin had arrived from school and walked into the room.
Hyunjin had stopped dead. He stared at the small, wriggling creature in Minho’s arms.
"Is that the brother?" Hyunjin asked, his voice hushed with awe.
"This is Felix," Minho said, kneeling down so Hyunjin could see. "He's going to stay with us forever. He’s a little bit sick, Jinnie, so we have to be very gentle."
Chan and Minho held their breath, waiting for the jealousy, the tantrum, or the withdrawal.
Instead, Hyunjin reached out a finger and touched one of the freckles on Felix’s nose. Felix stopped chewing on Minho and looked at Hyunjin. He blinked once, twice, and then let out a delighted shriek, reaching both hands out toward the older boy.
"Ba!" Felix had shouted. It wasn't brother or anything closer, but it was enough for Hyunjin.
Hyunjin’s face had transformed. The five-year-old looked at him with so much love that it had taken Chan’s breath away.
"He’s so small," Hyunjin whispered. He stepped closer and, without being asked, he took his favourite tattered velvet rabbit from the couch; the one he’d had since his first day; and tucked it into the crook of Felix’s arm. "You can have Mr. Bun-Bun, Lixie. So you won't be scared of the dark."
In that moment, Hyunjin didn't lose his place. He gave it. He stepped down from the throne of the only child and became the foundation upon which Felix’s life was built.
The years that followed were full of quiet love.
Minho remembered the first time Felix had a bad lung day at home. Felix was three, and the coughing was so deep it made his little ribs ache. Chan was in the kitchen, frantically calling the doctor, and Minho was trying to keep Felix calm during a nebulizer treatment.
Felix was crying, the plastic mask scaring him. He was pushing Minho’s hands away, his face turning a panicked shade of red.
Suddenly, Hyunjin came in. He simply sat on the bed behind Felix and pulled the younger boy back against his chest.
"Felie, look at me," He said softly. He started to count. "One, two, three... blow the bubbles. One, two, three... blow the bubbles."
Felix’s thrashing stopped. He leaned back into the solid warmth of his big brother and focused on Hyunjin’s face, the hiss-hiss of the machine became a background noise to Hyunjin’s counting.
Hyunjin stayed there for thirty minutes, his arms wrapped around Felix, absorbing the vibrations of the coughs into his own body. When it was over, Felix had fallen asleep right there, his head tucked under Hyunjin’s chin.
"How did you know to do that?" Minho had asked later, as he tucked Hyunjin into his own bed.
Hyunjin had just shrugged, his eyes sleepy but serious. "He’s mine, Appa. I have to make sure he can breathe."
It was the reason Hyunjin was Felix’s favourite." Chan and Minho were the providers; the ones who gave the medicine, the ones who set the rules, the ones who protect them from everything. But Hyunjin- Hyunjin was the air. He was the one who translated the world for Felix.
Chan looked at Hyunjin, who was now leaning his head against the bed railing, his hand still firmly laced with Felix’s.
"We almost broke them, Minho," Chan said quietly, the guilt finding its voice. "We were so busy being the parents that we forgot to look at the family we actually had. We were arguing about a house in Jeju to protect Felix, while the person actually protecting him was sitting right there on the rug."
Minho nodded, reaching out to wipe a tear from Chan’s cheek. "We thought we were the ones holding everything together. But look at them. They hold each other together. We're just the walls, Channie. They’re our heart."
Just then, Felix stirred.
Not a violent movement, just a soft, fluttering sigh. His eyes opened with a slow, hazy recognition. He looked up, and the first thing he saw wasn't the white ceiling or the monitors.
He saw Hyunjin.
"Hyu..ngie?" Felix’s whispered, voice muffled by the mask, but Hyunjin was by his in an instant.
"I’m here, Felie. I’m right here," Hyunjin breathed. He leaned in close, his face inches from Felix’s. "You’re okay. Everything is quiet now."
Felix’s eyes drifted to Chan and Minho in the corner. He saw them sitting together, Chan’s arm around Minho’s waist, their faces etched with a desperate, humble love.
Felix looked back at Hyunjin and gave a tiny, weak squeeze of the hand.
Hyunjin let out a sob; a single, sharp sound of relief that he’d been holding in for twenty-four hours. He buried his face in the side of Felix’s pillow, his shoulders finally dropping from their defensive posture.
He looked at his parents. "He’s awake," he whispered. "He wants you."
Chan and Minho stood up and approached the bed slowly. They knelt by the bed, one on each side, completing the circle.
"We’re staying, Lixie," Chan whispered, stroking Felix’s hair. "No more loud. Just us. Just here."
Felix smiled behind the mask, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He looked at Hyunjin, then at his dadas, and for the first time in a week, everything felt right.
⋆.˚ ──── ᡣ𐭩 ──── ⋆.˚
The afternoon sun was streaming through the ICU windows. The heavy machinery had been wheeled away, replaced by the soft humming of a portable oxygen concentrator. Felix was sitting upright, propped up by a mountain of pillows, looking significantly more like himself; though his movements were still slow, and his voice held a slight raspy edge. Hyunjin was sitting near him on the bed reading him a book he brought.
Chan and Minho sat on the chair near his bed. Chan was watching them and correcting the words when Hyunjin asked, from time to time, what they meant. Minho was peeling an orange for the boys. They looked different than they had three days ago. The words had been on their minds for a while, but they never got the chance to say them. Now, after two days, they knew they couldn’t wait anymore.
They just didn’t know where to begin. So here they are, thinking of how to start.
"Jinnie, Lixie," Chan began, his voice was thick with emotion. He moved forward from his chair and knelt by the side of the bed, his eyes level with theirs. "We need to say something. We were wrong. We were loud, and we were selfish. We were so busy fighting about the future that we forgot to take care of your now."
Minho put the orange on the table and also knelt beside the bed, reaching out to rest a hand on Felix’s knee and another on Hyunjin’s shoulder. "We promised to protect you," Minho said softly. "But instead, we made the storm. We are so, so sorry for scaring you. We’re sorry for not being the papas you deserve."
Felix, whose heart was as soft as the frosting on his favourite cupcakes, didn't even hesitate. He leaned forward, his small arms reaching out over the hospital gown. "It’s okay, Dada. Mama. Lixie forgives you! Just... no more big noises, okay? The loud makes the dragons come back."
Chan choked back a sob, pulling Felix into a gentle, scent-filled hug.
But Hyunjin remained still. He didn't pull away from Minho’s hand, but he didn't lean in either. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his arm tucked firmly around Felix’s waist. His protective bodyguard mode hadn't fully disengaged yet.
"You promise?" Hyunjin asked, his obsidian eyes searching Chan’s face with a searing intensity. "No secrets? No shouting?"
"I promise, Jinnie," Chan said solemnly. "On my life. No more secrets."
Hyunjin watched them for a long beat, seeing the genuine remorse in the lines around Chan’s eyes and the way Minho was looking at them with such desperate, quiet love. Finally, his shoulders dropped. He leaned forward and buried his face in Minho’s neck, letting out a long, shaky sigh. "Okay. I forgive you too. But I’m still watching you."
Minho let out a wet laugh, squeezing Hyunjin tight. "I expect nothing less from the best bodyguard in the world."
Once the air was cleared, Chan pulled the very question of their argument which led to the hospital.
"Before we go home," Chan said, "we need to ask you something. This job... it would mean moving to Jeju. There are beaches there, and big parks, and a bigger house. But it’s far away from here. We want to know what you want. We won't go unless everyone says yes." He looked at both of them carefully.
Felix looked at Chan, then at the window. He scrunched up his nose. "I don't want to go," he said firmly.
"Why not, Lixie?" Minho asked gently.
"Because the doctor who knows my lungs is here," Felix explained, tapping his chest. "And because the lady at the bakery next to Mama's shop gives me free candies. If we move, the candy-aunt will be sad."
Chan smiled, his heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks. He turned to Hyunjin. "And you, Jinnie?"
Hyunjin didn't even have to think. "No. I want to stay. My art teacher said I can help paint the school mural next month. And... and Minnie-Uncle and Uncle Ji live here. If we move, who will play hide-and-seek with us on Saturdays? You can't play hide-and-seek over the phone."
Chan looked at Minho. They saw the same thing in each other’s eyes: a profound sense of clarity. The better future wasn't in a beach house in Jeju; it was in the rainbow candies and the school murals and the family they had already built.
"There," Chan said, a brilliant, genuine grin breaking across his face. "I’ll reply them today. We’re staying."
⋆.˚ ──── ᡣ𐭩 ──── ⋆.˚
Discharge day felt like a celebration.
The nurses cheered as Felix was wheeled out in a wheelchair; a standard hospital rule that he absolutely loved because it made him feel like he was on a slow-motion roller coaster. Hyunjin walked right beside the chair, his hand resting on the handle.
When they reached the car, everyone was slow and careful.
"Careful, Lixie, watch your step," Chan murmured, hovering his hands near Felix’s waist as he helped him into his car seat.
"I’ve got his nebulizer bag," Hyunjin announced, tucking the medical kit securely into the footwell. He then climbed in beside Felix, immediately checking the fit of his brother’s seatbelt.
"Is the air okay, Lix? Not too cold?" Minho asked, adjusting the car’s vents so they weren't blowing directly on the boy.
Felix giggled, the sound a bit raspy but full of light. "I’m not a glass egg, Mama! I’m a lion!"
"You're a lion who just got home from a big battle," Minho reminded him, leaning back to kiss his forehead.
The drive home was quiet; a good, peaceful quiet.
When they finally pulled into their driveway, the sight of the familiar front door felt like a warm hug. Chan hopped out and opened the back door, but before he could reach for Felix, Hyunjin was already there, holding out his hand.
"I'll walk him to the door," Hyunjin said firmly.
Chan stepped back, sharing a knowing, misty-eyed look with Minho. They watched as Hyunjin guided Felix up the walkway, moving at a snail’s pace, making sure Felix didn't trip over the tiniest pebble.
As they stepped inside, the house smelled like the lemon-scented cleaner Minho had used before the storm hit. But it felt different now.
"Welcome home, Lixie," Chan said, closing the door behind them and locking it.
Felix looked around the living room. He then looked at Hyunjin, then at his dadas, and let out a happy, content sigh.
"I like it here," Felix whispered. "It’s nice and quiet."
"It’s going to stay that way," Minho promised, already heading toward the kitchen. "From now on, the only big noises in this house are going to be laughter."
⋆.˚ ──── ᡣ𐭩 ──── ⋆.˚
The first week back from the hospital was very quiet, as if the family were collectively holding their breath, waiting for the foundation of their home to set. The air was no longer thin and sharp with tension; instead, it was thick with the usual softness.
Saturday morning came with warm sunlight. Golden light filled the house. Minho moved gently, sliding a tray of blueberry muffins into the oven.
Chan sat at the table, his laptop closed and pushed to the far corner. He was scrolling through a list of local paediatric specialists when the floorboards upstairs groaned.
"They're up," Chan whispered, a small, genuine smile touching his face.
A moment later, Hyunjin was leading Felix down the stairs by the hand. Felix was wearing his favourite oversized yellow hoodie, the sleeves dangling past his fingertips, making him look like a fluffy dandelion.
"Morning, my lions," Chan said, standing up, resisting the urge to rush over and scoop Felix up.
"Felie’s chest feels bubbly," Hyunjin announced, as he led Felix to the sofa and grabbed the vest; the vibrating airway clearance system that Felix usually hated.
"I'll help him with the vest, Jinnie," Minho said, stepping out of the kitchen.
Chan watched as Minho operated the machine..
Later that morning, while Minho and Hyunjin were in the kitchen quality-testing the muffins, Chan found Felix sitting on the couch, staring at the colours. Felix had a small sketchbook in his lap, but he wasn't drawing.
Chan sat near him, also giving the boy his space.
"Lixie?" Chan said softly. "I wanted to show you something."
He held out his phone. On the screen was a confirmation email. "I officially declined the job in Jeju. And I asked my boss for a different schedule. No more late nights at the office. I told them I have a very important role as a secondary bodyguard to fill here."
Felix looked at the screen, then at Chan.
"You stayed because of the candy lady?" Felix asked, his voice still a little raspy.
Chan laughed, a wet, emotional sound. "Partly. But mostly because this house is where your stories are."
Felix set his sketchbook aside and crawled over, tucking himself into the crook of Chan’s arm. "It's okay, Dada. Just... if you get a secret again, tell the moon. The moon tells me everything at night."
Chan squeezed him tight, breathing in the scent of baby shampoo and recovery. "I'll tell you first, Lix. I promise. No more secrets for the moon."
Minho’s path to mending was through the kitchen. He had always been the Boss, the one who kept the household running like a clock. But he realized that his efficiency had sometimes been a shield against the messiness of emotion.
He found Hyunjin in the kitchen, staring at an empty spot.
"Jinnie?" Minho said, stepping up beside him.
Hyunjin didn't look up. "Why did you guys stop being a team?"
The question was a knife to the heart. Minho didn't try to sugarcoat it. He sat on the floor, ignoring the flour on his apron, and patted the space next to him. Hyunjin sat down, his knees pulled to his chest.
"I got scared, baby," Minho admitted, his voice low. "When Dada told me about the move, I felt like I was losing everything. I felt like Iosing what I made. And instead of telling him I was scared, I got angry. I let my pride be louder than my love."
Hyunjin looked at him, his eyes searching. "I get scared too. When Lixie can't breathe. But I don't get angry at him."
"That's because you're braver than I am," Minho said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind Hyunjin’s ear. "You know that being a bodyguard means being soft, not just being strong. I’m learning from you, Jinnie-bear."
Hyunjin finally leaned in, resting his head on Minho’s shoulder. "It’s better when it’s soft. The loudness makes my head hurt."
"No more," Minho vowed. "If I feel the angry coming, I’m going to go bake a very, very quiet loaf of bread until it goes away."
That evening, they started a new tradition. They sat around the dining table, the air smelling of Minho’s homemade pasta.
"Favourite part of the day," Chan announced.
Felix went first. "My favourite part was when the bumblebee stayed on the lavender for a long time. I think he was sleeping."
Minho went next. "My favourite part was seeing the flour on Jinnie’s nose when we were baking. It looked like a little cloud."
Hyunjin looked around the table. He saw Minho and Chan holding hands under the table. He saw Felix’s plate, which was actually half-empty because he’d been eating his vegetables. He saw the way the light in the room felt warm.
"My favourite part," Hyunjin said, his voice small but clear, "is that everyone is happy."
The silence that followed was a shared, sacred moment of understanding.
"Mine too, Jinnie," Chan whispered. "Mine too."
Late that night, Chan walked past the boys’ room on his way to bed. The door was cracked open.
He peeked in and saw that Hyunjin had climbed down from the top bunk. He was curled up on the edge of Felix’s bed, his arm draped over Felix’s waist. They were both sound asleep.
Chan stood in the doorway for a long time. He looked at his sons, looked at the boy who had taught him how to be a father, and the boy who had taught him how to be a human.
Minho appeared in the hallway behind him, wrapping his arms around Chan’s waist and leaning his chin on Chan’s shoulder.
"We did okay today, didn't we?" Minho whispered.
"We did," Chan said, turning in Minho’s arms to kiss his forehead. "And tomorrow, we’ll do even better."
⋆.˚ ──── ᡣ𐭩 ──── ⋆.˚
"Okay, Lixie," Chan said, crouching down beside the high chair. "I’m going to the office, but I’m leaving my heart here with you. You have to keep it warm, okay?"
Felix giggled, a sound that was only slightly raspy, reaching out to poke Chan’s nose. "I’ll put it in my pocket, Dada!"
Chan leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to Felix’s forehead, then his nose, then both cheeks. "I love you. I’ll call at lunch to hear you talk, okay?"
"Okay!"
Then came the secondary commander. Hyunjin stood by the door, his backpack already on his shoulders.
"Did you take your morning enzymes?" Hyunjin asked, looking at Minho.
"He did, Jinnie," Minho promised, leaning against the counter with a soft smile. "And his inhaler. And he’s had his water."
Hyunjin turned back to Felix. He leaned in, wrapping his arms around his little brother in a hug that was fierce and protective. He whispered something into Felix’s ear; a secret code maybe; before planting a loud, dramatic kiss on Felix’s crown.
"Don't run," Hyunjin warned, pointing a finger. "And don't do big jumps. If you get tired, you tell Mama immediately."
"I promise, Hyungie!" Felix beamed, waving his small hand as Hyunjin and Chan finally retreated toward the front door.
The house settled into a profound, golden silence as the door clicked shut.
Minho turned back to the kitchen, exhaling a soft breath. He had taken a break from work. For now, his only job was taking care of Felix.
"Well, Mr. Lion," Minho said, swooping in to lift Felix out of his chair gently. "The house is ours. What is the first order of business?"
"Cuddles!" Felix shouted, throwing his arms around Minho’s neck. "And the blue movie!"
Minho didn’t walk to the living room; he performed a slow, playful dance, making Felix squeal with delight as they waltzed toward the sofa. The living room had been transformed into a recovery fort. Minho had dragged the softest duvets from the master bedroom and piled them onto the couch, creating a nest of down and silk.
As they settled in, Minho tucked a weighted blanket over Felix’s legs. He found himself constantly reaching out; brushing a thumb over Felix’s pulse point, checking the temperature of his skin, listening to the whistle of his breath. It was a lingering reflex from the trauma of the ICU, a protective instinct that made him want to keep Felix within arm's reach at all times.
"Mama, you're staring," Felix said, tilting his head.
"I'm just admiring the view, Lixie," Minho whispered, pulling the boy closer until Felix was tucked into the crook of his arm.
He realized then that this was the future Chan had been trying to secure. It wasn't in a location or a title; it was in the ability to sit in a quiet room, with both of his healthy children, and feel absolutely no need to be anywhere else.
⋆.˚ ──── ᡣ𐭩 ──── ⋆.˚
Chan had brought out his acoustic guitar, the one he hadn't touched in months. He sat cross-legged on the plush rug in the living room, fingers hovering over the strings. Beside him, Felix and Hyunjin sat in the hollow of the guitar case, which they had decided was their personal boat.
“It’s a very small boat,” Hyunjin muttered, trying to tuck his long limbs into the narrow curves of the case. He was growing fast, his legs lengthening into the lean grace of a dancer, and the velvet interior was a tight fit.
“It’s a magic boat!” Felix protested, voice bright and gravelly chirp. He scooted closer to his brother, his small frame wedging perfectly into the wider body of the case. He adjusted his favourite yellow hoodie, the sleeves dangling over his hands. “It floats on music, Hyungie. If you’re grumpy, we’ll sink!”
Hyunjin just sighed, a dramatic, long-suffering sigh, but he didn't move away. Instead, he shifted his weight to give Felix more room, his shoulder acting as a natural headrest for the younger boy.
Chan watched them, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He adjusted the strap of the guitar and struck a soft, bright chord in G major. The sound rippled through the room like a pebble dropped into a still pond.
Then he started to sing, making up a song on the spot, his voice rich and soothing.
"There once was a lion with a freckled face,
Who lived in a very sparkly place.
He had a big brother who was brave and tall,
And a Mama who made bread for them all..."
Felix’s face lit up as if someone had flicked a switch behind his eyes. He started clapping his hands in time, his eyes sparkling. "And the Dada! Sing about the Dada!"
"And a Dada who's silly and jumps like a frog,
Who loves his little lion more than his dog!"
"We don't have a dog, Dada!" Felix shrieked with laughter.
"Exactly!” Chan said, pausing the music for a second to reach out and boop Felix’s nose. ”That's how much I love you!"
Hyunjin snorted quietly, the corners of his mouth were twitching. “That makes no sense scientifically.”
They spent an hour like that; singing, making up nonsensical rhymes, and eventually, just swaying to the music. Chan sang about a boy who could paint the wind and a mama who could talk to flour. He sang about the Star Kingdom they had drawn earlier and the Dragon that guarded their front door.
Slowly, the frantic energy of the afternoon began to settle. Felix’s claps grew slower, the beat faltering. His eyes began to grow heavy. The boat was warm, the music was a soft blanket, and his chest felt light and easy. His head tipped sideways, his blonde hair tickling Hyunjin’s neck. He rested his cheek against Hyunjin’s shoulder, his small hand curling into the fabric of his brother’s shirt.
Hyunjin stopped mid-rebuttal about the lyrics. He looked down at the weight on his shoulder.
“…Felie?” he whispered.
No answer. Only the soft huff-huff of Felix’s breathing, steady and clear.
“He’s falling asleep,” Hyunjin said, his voice dropping.
Chan carefully set the guitar aside, the last chord vibrating into silence. He stood up, his joints popping slightly, and moved toward the case.
“Captain of the boat has passed out,” Chan whispered, reaching down.
Hyunjin tried to shift, to help Chan lift him, but Felix’s grip on his shirt tightened even in sleep. The little boy let out a tiny, protestive mumble, his brow furrowing.
“…great,” Hyunjin muttered, though he didn't pull away. He stayed perfectly still, a human anchor, as Chan gently put his arms under Felix’s small frame.
Chan lifted him with the practiced ease of a father who had spent many nights carrying his delicate treasure. Felix barely stirred, his head falling naturally into the crook of Chan’s neck.
“Stay… Dada…” Felix mumbled, his voice a ghost of a sound, thick with sleep.
“I’m here, Lixie. I’m right here,” Chan whispered, pressing a kiss to the boy's temple.
They moved to the master bedroom slowly. Chan laid Felix down in the center of the great bed, among the pillows that smelled like home; lavender, clean cotton, and a hint of the vanilla that always followed Minho.
Felix reached out blindly as the warmth of Chan’s arms left him. His hand searched the duvet, his face scrunched in a looming pout of abandonment. Chan didn't hesitate. He kicked off his shoes and climbed in beside him, pulling the heavy, knitted blanket over both of them.
Felix curled into him instantly, his small body molding itself to Chan’s side, his head finding a spot on Chan’s bicep.
Hyunjin appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. He watched them for a long minute, his expression a complicated mix of relief and lingering teenage cool.
“…you’re going to get stuck there,” Hyunjin said, his voice a low vibration. “You have a conference call in an hour.”
“I’m aware,” Chan replied, his voice barely audible. He shifted his weight, making sure Felix was comfortable. “The conference call can wait. The Captain is in port.”
Hyunjin walked into the room, his footsteps silent on the carpet. He climbed onto the other side of the bed, sitting cross-legged at the foot. He looked at Felix’s peaceful face, then at the way Chan was holding the boy.
Hyunjin sighed, a small, soft sound. “You’re both trapped now. Congratulations. You’ve been defeated by a four-year-old.”
A few minutes later, the door opened with a soft creak. Minho stepped in, his apron finally gone, but the scent of sugar still clinging to him like a second skin. He paused in the doorway, the low amber light of the setting sun catching the gold in his hair.
He took in the scene: Chan pinned to the bed by a sleeping lion, and Hyunjin sitting like a silent guard beside him.
Minho’s expression softened instantly, the lines of worry around his eyes smoothing out. He walked closer. He sat on the edge of the bed, his weight causing a slight dip that made Felix shift closer to Chan.
“He slept?” Minho whispered, his hand reaching out to brush a stray lock of blonde hair from Felix’s forehead.
Hyunjin nodded. “Mid-song. Very dramatic. Dada was singing about frogs and he just… checked out.”
Minho smiled, a small, genuine thing. “Good. He needed the rest. His lungs have been working so hard lately.”
Chan looked up at Minho.
“What did you do today?” Minho asked, his voice a velvet murmur.
Chan huffed a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. “I made star sandwiches. I sang about an imaginary dog. I think I’ve peaked, Min.”
Minho laughed under his breath, a warm, melodic sound. “I think you did more than okay, Chan-ah.”
There was a pause. A soft one. Minho reached out, adjusting the corner of the blanket around Chan’s shoulder, his fingers lingering on the fabric for a second longer than necessary.
“Thank you,” Minho said, the words barely a breath.
Chan looked at him, his gaze steady and warm. “Always.”
Minho leaned down slightly, pressing a quick, gentle kiss to Chan’s temple. It was a soft, fleeting touch, as natural and necessary as breathing.
Felix didn't notice. He was deep in a dream about a dragon.
Hyunjin, however, watched the whole exchange from the foot of the bed. He scrunched his nose, his sensibilities momentarily offended by the display of affection.
“…seriously?” he muttered, though there was no real bite in it.
Chan glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. “What?”
“You guys are so embarrassing,” Hyunjin said, already pulling the duvet over himself with a roll of his eyes. “I’m sleeping before it gets worse.”
Minho laughed quietly, his eyes bright. “Go brush your teeth, Mr. And don't forget to put your sketchbook away.”
“Aahh! I will do it later,” Hyunjin said. “In peace. Away from this… mush.”
The parents laughed. Minho stayed on the edge of the bed, his hand resting lightly over Chan’s on the duvet. Chan squeezed it gently, his eyes closing as the exhaustion of the day finally began to settle over him too.
Neither of them spoke. They didn't need to. The air in the room was clear. The Bodyguard was probably already asleep under the duvet, and the Lion was safe in his Dada's arms.
Between them, the heart of the house beat in a slow, steady rhythm. The shadows lengthened, the stars began to peek through the window, and for the first time in a very long time, the silence didn't feel like a warning. It felt like home.
Their only home.
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Our Little Home
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