Chapter Text
The market was alive in soft, golden light of afternoon
It was around five—the sun beginning its slow descent, casting warm light across rows of small shops and street stalls. The air carried a mix of scents: sweet pastries, grilled snacks, fresh fruit. People moved in gentle crowds, voices overlapping, laughter slipping through like music.
Changbin walked beside Innie, one hand loosely gripping the strap of his backpack, the other tucked into his pocket. His uniform shirt was slightly untucked now, sleeves rolled just enough to show he had long given up on looking perfectly presentable after school.
Innie, on the other hand, looked like she carried the energy of the entire street within her.
Her steps were light, almost bouncing as she moved from one stall to another, eyes bright with curiosity.
“I have one hour,” she announced for what was probably the third time.
Changbin glanced at her sideways. “You said that already.”
“I know,” she replied, completely unbothered. “But it’s important. I have vocal class at six.”
He nodded slowly. “You’ve been going a lot lately.”
Her expression softened—just slightly, but enough for him to notice.
“I like it,” she said, quieter now. “It feels like finally found my place .”
Changbin didn’t respond immediately. He just listened.
“I think I got better too,” she added, almost shyly. “My teacher said my pitch control improved.”
“That’s good,” he said simply.
She turned to him, eyes narrowing playfully. “That’s all?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. Something more dramatic.”
He huffed. “Congratulations, future superstar.”
She grinned instantly. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”
They slowed near a small accessory stall—one of those cluttered, colorful displays filled with trinkets, bracelets, and dangling keychains that caught the sunlight just enough to look irresistible.
Innie stopped.
“Wait.”
Changbin stopped too, already knowing that tone.
She leaned closer to the display, fingers hovering over the items before carefully picking up two keyrings.
“Look,” she said, turning toward him.
In her hands were two small dragon figures.
One was sleek and black, its wings slightly curved, eyes wide and curious—Toothless.
The other was pale white, almost shimmering under the sunlight, with soft features and a gentle expression—Light Fury.
Changbin blinked.
“This is what you shouted for?” he asked.
Innie’s eyes lit up. “They’re from How to Train Your Dragon!”
“I know what they are.”
“Then why are you acting like this isn’t important?”
He looked at the keyrings again.
“They’re matching,” she continued, her voice gaining excitement. “Look—black and white. Toothless and Light Fury.”
She held them side by side, almost like presenting a masterpiece.
“We can attach them to our bags,” she added, already imagining it. “Yours can be Toothless, and mine can be Light Fury.”
Changbin raised an eyebrow. “Why do I get toothless?”
“Because you’re sometimes grumpy.”
“I’m not grumpy.”
She gave him a look.
“…Okay, sometimes,” he admitted.
She smiled triumphantly.
“And I get Light Fury because she’s elegant,” Innie continued, lifting the white dragon slightly higher.
“You?” he deadpanned.
“Yes, me.”
He looked unconvinced.
She gasped dramatically. “Take it back.”
He smirked faintly.
Innie turned back to the stall owner. “Uncle, we’ll take these.”
Before Changbin could say anything, she had already handed over the money.
“You didn’t have to—” he started.
“I wanted to,” she cut him off easily. “It’s just keyrings.”
She placed the black one—Toothless—into his hand.
“Don’t lose it,” she warned.
Changbin looked down at it for a moment.
The small dragon swung slightly from the metal ring, catching the fading sunlight.
“…I won’t,” he said quietly.
Innie was already attaching her Light Fury to her bag, carefully clipping it onto the zipper. She lifted the bag slightly, admiring how it moved.
“See?” she said proudly. “It’s perfect.”
Changbin, after a second, clipped his onto his own bag too.
The two keyrings hung there now.
Side by side.
______________
By the time Changbin reached home, the sky had already deepened into that soft navy-blue of early night, where the last traces of daylight clung faintly to the horizon. He pushed open the gate, the familiar sound greeting him before anything else did.
And then—
Warmth.
Not just from the lights spilling out through the windows, but from the unmistakable feeling of home alive.
The moment he stepped inside, he could hear it.
The low hum of music drifting from the kitchen. The clatter of utensils. Chan’s voice somewhere in the living room, talking to himself in that serious, focused way he did when playing games.
It wasn’t quiet or still
It was full.
Changbin slipped off his shoes at the entrance, already knowing something was different tonight.
The air smelled… incredible.
Garlic, sesame oil, something rich and savory—layers of it, weaving together into something that made his stomach tighten instantly. He walked further in, and the scene unfolded.
In the kitchen, Hyunjin stood at the center of it all.
Her hair was loosely tied up, a few strands escaping around her face. She had changed into something comfortable—soft home clothes—but there was still that effortless grace in the way she moved, like even cooking was something she designed rather than just did.
Music played in the background—something light, rhythmic. The kind of song that made you sway without realizing it.
And she was swaying.
slightly.
As she cooked.
The countertop was filled with ingredients and finished dishes alike, each one carefully prepared.
A pan sizzled gently on the stove where she was stir-frying bulgogi—thin slices of marinated beef caramelizing beautifully, the sauce thickening into a glossy coating. She moved the pieces with ease, letting them brown just enough before flipping them again.
Beside it, a pot simmered with doenjang jjigae, the soybean paste stew bubbling softly, releasing a deep, comforting aroma. Tofu cubes floated among slices of zucchini and onions, steam rising in gentle clouds.
On the side counter, plates of banchan were already arranged neatly.
Small dishes, each one perfect in its own way—
Bright red kimchi, glistening with spice and fermentation.
A delicate plate of namul—seasoned spinach, glossy with sesame oil and sprinkled with sesame seeds.
Thinly sliced pickled radish, pale and crisp.
A small bowl of rolled omelette cut into even pieces, soft yellow layers folded perfectly.
There was even a dish of stir-fried anchovies, caramelized and slightly sticky, balanced between sweet and salty.
Everything looked… professional.
Complete.
Like a feast made not just out of hunger, but out of happiness.
Hyunjin leaned slightly over the stove, adjusting the heat, then reached for a wooden spoon to taste the stew. She paused, thoughtful, then added just a touch more seasoning.
Perfect.
She hummed softly along with the music, unaware of the quiet footsteps approaching behind her.
In another part of the house, Jisung had just entered through the backdoor .
His arms were full of freshly dried clothes, warm from the lingering heat of the sun.
Even though they had every appliance they could possibly need, he and Hyunjin had always preferred this—the simple act of drying clothes outside.
At the far end of their vast yard, beyond the stretch of green field and near the edge of the small lake, there was a dedicated space lined with neat rows of drying racks. Surrounded by flowers and the soft rustling of leaves, it had become a quiet ritual for them.
Jisung carried the folded pile inside now, the faint scent of sun and clean fabric clinging to them.
He placed the basket down on the couch and began sorting them absentmindedly—his movements relaxed, almost meditative.
A small shirt here.
A pair of trousers there.
His fingers paused briefly on a tiny piece of clothing—Hanni’s.
He smiled faintly before folding it carefully.
In the living room, Chan sat cross-legged on the floor, completely immersed in his game. His brows were furrowed in concentration, tongue peeking out slightly as he focused.
“Come on… come on…” he muttered under his breath.
On the couch beside him , Hanni was holding onto the edge of the sofa with both hands, tiny fingers gripping the fabric tightly as she pulled herself up.
Her legs wobbled.
Her body swayed.
But she stood.
For a second.
Then another.
Her eyes widened, surprised at her own success.
A delighted sound escaped her—a high-pitched giggle as she bounced slightly in place, thrilled with this new ability.
Standing had become her latest obsession.
After mastering sitting without support, she had decided that wasn’t enough.
She wanted height.
She wanted perspective.
She wanted more.
Her tiny feet shifted clumsily as she tried to steady herself, determination written all over her small face.
Chan glanced up for a moment.
“Hannie’s standing again,” he announced, half-focused.
Hanni responded by squealing proudly, as if confirming it.
Changbin stepped inside.
The sounds, the warmth, the smell—it all hit him at once. He didn’t even need to think. His feet carried him straight toward the kitchen.
Hyunjin had just turned off the stove when she felt arms wrap around her from behind.
“Mom.”
She didn’t startle ,just smiled softly.
She reached back, one hand coming up to rest on his arm, the other turning slightly as she leaned into the hug.
“My big baby is home, ” she said gently.
Changbin buried his face briefly against her shoulder, the faint scent of food and her familiar perfume grounding him instantly.
She turned just enough to look at him, lifting her hand to brush his hair back before pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
“How was tuition?”
“Fine.”
She nodded, already used to the short answer.
“Go change,” she said, her tone light but firm. “Get fresh and come down quickly.”
He sighed quietly but didn’t argue.
“Okay.”
She gave his head one last affectionate pat before turning back to the dishes, checking everything one more time.
Changbin stepped away, heading toward the stairs.
-----
The house had quieted almost completely by the time Changbin retreated to his room after dinner . The lingering aroma of Hyunjin’s cooking still floated faintly through the air, mixing with the cool night breeze that slipped through the wide-open balcony door. Outside, the sky stretched endlessly, an inky canvas punctuated with countless stars. It was a view that felt infinite, like the possibilities of the universe itself.
Changbin pulled the telescope closer, adjusting it with deliberate care. Jisung had insisted on it, his voice still echoing in his mind: “Kids need to explore every sector before making a decision for their future. They need to see the sky before they decide where they want to go.” Changbin wasn’t sure what he thought about that at the time. Astronomy hadn’t appealed to him—but it was definitely interesting. The stars - they were vast and mysterious, and somehow, in their unchanging patterns, they felt familiar, safe, like the universe was quietly watching over him.
He trained the telescope on Jupiter first, spotting its faint bands, the largest planet that seemed almost as patient and timeless as the night itself. He adjusted the focus to the rings of Saturn, marveling at how something so beautiful and delicate could exist so far from the warmth of the sun. The thought struck him that the same way planets had their own orbits, people had their own paths. Maybe he hadn’t known yet what orbit he would settle into, but that didn’t make the journey any less thrilling.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. He moved from constellation to constellation, tracing Orion’s belt with his finger, trying to memorize the patterns. Sometimes he caught a glimpse of a shooting star, and instinctively he made a wish—not out loud, of course, but quietly, as if speaking directly to the universe. Changbin thought of songs he might write, melodies that could match the calm yet infinite feeling of the night. Words began to float in his mind: light that never fades, echoes of a dream, whispers among the stars. He scribbled a few down in the small notebook he had propped nearby, jotting ideas even as the telescope continued to point him toward the heavens.
Eventually, his eyes grew heavy, the night air cooling his skin in gentle, insistent waves. He reluctantly detached from the telescope, letting it sit still against the balcony rail. The door to the balcony was left open, allowing the soft breeze to pass freely through his room, brushing over his sheets, fluttering the pages of his songwriting diary left on the desk. Changbin stepped back inside, feeling the comforting hush of his room—the soft hum of the fan, the distant muffled sounds from the living room that reminded him the house was alive, even in sleep.
He flopped onto his bed for a few moments, staring at the ceiling as he let his mind drift. Song ideas swirled through his head, some half-formed, some merely sparks, but all of them felt bright against the quiet darkness. His gaze fell on the keychain attached to his school bag, the little toothless dragon dangling from it, a reminder of light-hearted adventures and the joy of friendship.
Slowly, almost unconsciously, he swung his legs off the bed and crossed over to the carpet, plucking the keychain from the bag. He turned it over in his hands, examining every curve, every tiny detail, smiling faintly as memories of his afternoon with Innie and the market returned.
Time seemed to stretch, elongated by the softness of the night and the rhythmic rustle of wind through the balcony. He thought about his friends, about music, about how much he loved the quiet moments alone where he could create without interruption. Changbin traced patterns on the carpet with his finger, letting his thoughts wander between lyrics, melodies, and dreams. The little toothless dragon swayed gently in his fingers, almost as if it shared his contemplations.
Eventually, the world outside faded further, leaving only the faint twinkle of distant streetlights and the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind. Changbin returned the keychain to its place on the bag, but he didn’t move to lie down immediately. He sat on the carpet for a moment, opening his songwriting diary and rereading lines he had scribbled earlier, humming softly to himself the beginnings of a tune. Words, melodies, and dreams mingled together in that quiet, magical space.
Finally, he crawled back onto his bed, pulling the blankets around him, hugging his pillow close. The diary was placed neatly by his side, the pen within reach for any fleeting spark of inspiration. He gazed once more at the wide-open balcony door, the night breeze brushing his face as if to lull him into calm. His eyelids grew heavier with every passing second, and gradually, his mind started to drift, letting the dreams of the night mix with the stars he had been watching.
The soft glow from the lamp outside in their flower gardens cast elongated shadows across the room. The keychain caught a sliver of light, gleaming faintly, almost like it was winking at him. Changbin’s breathing slowed, steady and even, as his thoughts melted into a warm, sleepy haze. The music of the night—the whisper of leaves, the faint distant hum of city life, the comforting familiarity of his family’s home—wrapped around him like a cocoon.
And there, lying on his bed, Changbin finally surrendered to sleep, dreams carrying him effortlessly toward stars, melodies, and the endless possibilities of tomorrow.
-----------
Changbin woke with a start, his small body jolting upright against the soft pillow. The morning sun had already begun to creep through the slats of his curtains, painting thin golden lines across his bedspread. Normally, on off days like this, he would still be curled under his blanket, snoozing peacefully while the rest of the house hummed quietly around him. But this morning was different. A dream—or rather, a half-formed nightmare—had shaken him awake. The details were hazy, like smoke, but the unease lingered, tickling at the edges of his mind.
He squinted at the bedside clock. 8:27. That was… early. Too early for a day off, and yet, here he was, wide-eyed and alert. Changbin lay back against his pillow, staring at the ceiling, letting his thoughts drift as the soft hum of the morning filtered in from outside. Birds chirped faintly somewhere beyond the garden, and the distant sound of the water from their little lake shimmered in the background. His mind, however, was not focused on the tranquil morning—it was tangled, restless.
After a long few seconds of staring at the ceiling, he reached for the phone on his nightstand. Fingers trembling slightly—not from fear, just from the lingering residue of that weird dream—he unlocked it and hesitated for a moment, as if admitting his curiosity out loud would make it more real. Then, with a soft sigh, he began typing, letting the thoughts spill into the search bar:
> for some days my eyes always goes back to my childhood friend, is it okay ?
He hit search, and the screen loaded pages filled with advice columns, forums, and some slightly awkward psychology articles. The top result suggested that it was “completely normal to feel drawn to childhood friends due to deep familiarity and emotional bonding” and that “these feelings can sometimes hint at a crush developing.”
Changbin blinked and rolled his eyes. Wow, thanks, Captain Obvious, he muttered under his breath, feeling his cheeks warm at the realization that maybe, just maybe, the flutter in his chest had a name.
Encouraged—or perhaps curious—he typed the next one:
> every silly and stupid thing she does makes sense to me, is it okay
The results were a mixture of online posts, some Reddit threads, and self-help articles explaining that, yes, seeing logic in someone else’s quirks and actions could very well be a sign of deep emotional attachment or even affection. Some of the advice was cringe-worthy: “You might be emotionally in sync with her! Or maybe you just understand her really well. Treasure it!”
Changbin exhaled sharply, lying back against his pillow and closing his eyes for a moment. Emotional attachment? Seriously? I’m just… normal. But he couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
He shifted, propping himself up slightly and typed another:
> I get angry when anyone says anything weird to her
This time, the results were a mix of gentle advice and forum users commiserating about jealousy or protectiveness over someone special. “You might have protective feelings, which are normal in close friendships or budding crushes,” one post read. “It shows how much you care.” Another said, “If you find yourself annoyed when someone makes fun of her even if it's not anything rude , it’s a subtle form of affection.”
Changbin groaned, pressing the phone to his forehead and rolling his eyes dramatically. Subtle? Ha! This is me now, a walking, talking human crush-machine, he muttered, though the thought made him chuckle softly despite himself.
Finally, he typed the last one, the one that had been swirling in his mind like a soft, persistent breeze:
> why do I like to spend time with her so much
The search results were predictable but still a little revealing: “You are drawn to people who make you feel safe and understood. Enjoying their company repeatedly is a sign of affection, comfort, and deep emotional bonding.” Another forum post read, almost teasingly, “If you can’t get enough of her, maybe it’s time to admit she’s more than just a friend.”
Changbin couldn’t help it. He pressed the phone away from his face and let out a laugh, loud enough to echo softly in his room. Yeah, sure. ‘More than a friend.’ As if my brain doesn’t already know that, he muttered, shaking his head, the corners of his lips tugging upward.
He sat back on his bed, looking at the ceiling once again. The morning sunlight had shifted slightly, turning warmer, softer, filling his room with a calm golden hue. He fiddled with the toothless keychain hanging from his school bag, twisting it absentmindedly between his fingers. Despite the silly searches and the eye-roll-worthy advice he had read, Changbin felt a small, quiet comfort in acknowledging the truth he’d been skirting around: that whenever she was near, whenever her laughter filled a room or her presence lingered even in thought, it made sense to him in a way nothing else did.
He let the phone sit beside him, a harmless witness to his late-night confessions. And as the house remained quiet around him, with Hanni and Chan sleeping peacefully and Hyunjin and Jisung still somewhere in their morning routines, Changbin felt a small thrill of something entirely new. Something that made the world feel both enormous and intimate at once—the gentle tug of affection, curiosity, and the softest hint of something he couldn’t yet name.
Finally, he leaned back, the soft morning breeze from the open balcony brushing against his face. He stared at the ceiling for a long while, letting his thoughts roll gently like clouds, letting a tiny, private smile spread across his lips. Then, reaching for his notebook, he began to scribble some lyrics inspired by the dream, the stars, and the quiet pull of his feelings, letting the morning unfold slowly around him.
The world outside his window glimmered with possibility, and Changbin—curious, thoughtful, and very, very human—was already thinking of how to capture it in song.
A small knock on his door .
"Mom coming in."
Changbin blinked at his mom, still half-dreaming, as the warm sunlight spilled into the room, brushing across the wooden floor and lighting up the small stacks of notebooks and pens he had left scattered the night before. The golden glow made the room feel cozy, almost like a little bubble separate from the world outside. He let out a soft groan, stretching and sitting upright on the bed.
Hyunjin stepped fully into the room, her presence like sunlight itself—bright, warm, and subtly commanding. Her eyes swept across the space, lingering for a second on the slight disarray that Changbin had somehow allowed overnight, though it was minimal. “Oh!” she exclaimed, a mixture of surprise and amusement in her voice. “My baby is awake so early?”
Changbin glanced at her, eyebrows knitting slightly. “It’s… I mean, I couldn’t sleep. Weird dream,” he admitted softly, feeling the blush rising in his cheeks at the memory.
Hyunjin moved closer, her hands gliding across the windowsill as she drew back the curtains. The morning sun poured in fully now, bouncing off the floor and the little desk where Changbin kept his songwriting diary and his keychain trinkets. “I’ll tell Mrs. Soo to clean your room first today,” she said, her voice gentle but teasing. “Though knowing you, it shouldn’t take her long at all. You’ve been keeping this place surprisingly neat, Binnie.”
He shrugged, trying to sound casual, though the corners of his mouth twitched into a faint smile. “I like it clean,” he said simply, almost defensive.
Hyunjin nodded approvingly, then turned her attention fully to him. “Come on, get up and have your breakfast. Dad made breakfast, so I want you down in ten minutes. And…” She paused, letting her eyes twinkle mischievously. “…Bokkie and Innie are coming today.”
Changbin froze mid-stretch. Bokkie coming over was routine—he had grown used to his little cousin showing up at their house, running through the halls with boundless energy, squealing with delight whenever she found him. But Innie… That was different. Innie didn’t visit without reason, at least not in the way Bokkie did. The thought of her being here made him suddenly aware of his heartbeat, just a little faster than normal.
“Innie?” His voice was incredulous.
“Why is she coming?”
Hyunjin smiled, tilting her head , “Well,” she began, placing a hand gently on his shoulder, “they’ll be staying with us today. Your uncle has a concert in Goyang, and your aunt is going too. So Bokkie asked to stay with us.” She chuckled softly . “As for Innie… her mom called me and asked if it was okay for her to stay with us today. Her parents are going somewhere for an occasion, so I said yes.”
Changbin’s mind raced, the sudden reality of the day settling around him. Innie staying with them meant… well, a full day of seeing her, interacting with her, and hearing her laugh, see her smile, and feel the little familiar warmth of her presence. It was unusual, yet exciting, and a little bit nerve-wracking. His fingers fiddled with the edge of his blanket as he tried to process it.
Everyone in house was already up . Each step on the floor echoed lightly, and Changbin felt the gentle hum of his family’s rhythm—the soft chatter of the living room where Chan and Hanni played , the clink of plates and cutlery from the kitchen. Finally, reaching the kitchen doorway, Changbin paused, taking a deep breath. The table was laid out beautifully, plates gleaming, and Jisung was standing near the stove, flipping something with a proud grin. “Good morning , Binnie,” Jisung said warmly, a twinkle in his eyes. “Come, sit. Breakfast is ready, and there’s plenty for everyone.”
Changbin’s chest lifted with a small surge of excitement, a smile finally spreading fully across his face. “Okay, Dad. I’m coming, I hope it's edible ? ” he said, hurrying the last few steps toward the table, the soft morning light wrapping around him as the scent of home, family, and the promise of a lively day filled him with anticipation.
_______
-----
Bokkie and Innie arrived a little after ten.
The moment the front door opened, Yongbok’s bright voice filled the entire entrance hall before anyone even properly saw her.
“AUNTY JINNIEEEE!”
Hyunjin barely had time to laugh before the four-year-old launched herself forward dramatically, tiny shoes squeaking against the floor.
Hyunjin caught her easily.
“There’s my baby,” she cooed, kissing both of her cheeks while Yongbok giggled loudly and wrapped her arms around her neck.
Behind her stood Innie, removing her shoes neatly near the entrance.
Unlike Bokkie’s storm-like energy, Innie entered softly, carrying a tote bag over one shoulder, her hair slightly messy from the breeze outside.
“Hello,” she greeted politely.
Hyunjin smiled warmly. “Come in, Innie-ah.”
Changbin, who had been pretending to scroll through his phone on the couch, looked up immediately.
Far too immediately.
Innie noticed.
But thankfully… she only smiled a little.
Soon enough, the house became noisy again.
Chan and Bokkie immediately disappeared toward the living room, dragging toys with them. Hanni sat on the carpet nearby, surrounded by plush blocks, babbling happily whenever someone paid attention to her.
Yongbok crouched dramatically in front of the baby.
“Hannie,” she announced seriously, “I miss Minnie.”
Hanni responded by trying to eat one of the blocks.
Chan sat beside them cross-legged. “Minnie went to your grandma’s house? Aunty said.”
“Yes,” Yongbok sighed deeply, sounding like someone suffering a tragic heartbreak. “But sisters should stay together.”
Then she hugged Hanni possessively.
“But I have Hanni today.”
Hanni squealed in delight.
Meanwhile—
Changbin and Innie had drifted toward the kitchen island, lazily sipping juice while watching the chaos from a safer distance.
Sunlight spilled warmly through the large windows, catching softly against the wooden surfaces of the house. Somewhere upstairs, music played faintly from one of the speakers Jisung forgot to turn off.
Innie glanced toward the hallway for a moment.
Then suddenly she giggled.
Changbin looked over. “What?”
She shook her head immediately, smiling into her juice glass.
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“They’re really cute.”
“…Who?”
“Your parents.”
Changbin blinked once.
“Huh?”
Innie leaned against the counter slightly, still smiling.
“A few minutes ago,” she explained, “I went to keep my backpack in the guest room.”
Changbin waited.
“And then I saw Chan sitting on your dad’s shoulders—”
He already knew where this was going.
“—and your mom was standing near him and they just…” She made a small gesture with her fingers awkwardly. “They kissed.”
Changbin stared blankly.
“On the lips,” Innie added unnecessarily.
He groaned softly, immediately looking away.
Innie burst into laughter.
“No, listen!” she insisted between giggles. “It was really cute!”
Changbin covered part of his face with one hand. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because it was adorable!”
He could literally picture it too clearly.
Jisung casually carrying Chan around like a backpack while Hyunjin walked over without warning just to kiss him because apparently they functioned like a romance drama twenty-four hours a day.
Innie sighed dreamily against the counter.
“They looked really happy.”
Changbin rubbed his forehead.
“…They tend to be like that,” he muttered.
Innie tilted her head. “Always?”
“Pretty much.”
“Wow.”
“They’re actually worse when nobody’s watching.”
Her eyes widened. “Seriously?”
Changbin gave her a deadpan look.
“You have no idea.”
Innie laughed again, soft and bright enough that Changbin accidentally found himself staring at her for a second too long.
Sunlight caught in her hair.
The little white dragon keychain—Light Fury—swung gently against her bag where she had left it near the chair.
And suddenly, weirdly—
The searches from this morning felt very stupidly real again.
So Changbin immediately looked away and took another sip of juice like his life depended on it.
------
The rest of the morning passed slowly, warmly, like sunlight stretching lazily across the floors of the house.
The living room had become the children’s kingdom by now.
Colored papers were scattered over the carpet. Markers rolled near the sofa legs. Someone—most definitely Yongbok—had left stickers attached to the coffee table.
And in the middle of it all sat Innie, cross-legged on the floor with the patience of a saint.
“Fold it carefully,” she instructed gently.
Chan’s brows furrowed so deeply they almost touched as he stared at the paper in his hands like it had personally offended him.
“It’s not becoming bird.”
“It will become bird,” Innie reassured.
Yongbok gasped dramatically from beside him.
“My one became triangle.”
Changbin, lounging lazily against the couch while pretending not to pay attention, snorted quietly.
“You guys are hopeless.”
“We are learning,” Yongbok declared with dignity.
Innie laughed softly and reached over to help Chan fix one of the folds.
“There,” she said. “Now fold this side.”
Chan copied her carefully with the concentration of a tiny surgeon.
Meanwhile Yongbok had somehow already given up on accuracy entirely and was folding her paper into what vaguely resembled a crushed dumpling.
“It’s modern art,” she announced proudly.
Changbin nearly choked laughing.
“You just made paper suffering.”
“No!” Yongbok protested. “It’s crane!”
“It looks like it got run over by uncle Seungmin's car.”
“OPPA!”
Innie burst into helpless giggles while Chan looked between them seriously before whispering:
“…Mine also looks little bit injured.”
That only made Changbin laugh harder.
Near the large floor-to-ceiling glass window panels, Hanni slept peacefully inside her soft baby nest.
Morning sunlight poured over her tiny form warmly, illuminating her fluffy hair and round cheeks. One of her little fists remained curled near her mouth while her legs twitched occasionally in sleep.
At ten months old, Hanni had become an energetic little thing, constantly trying to crawl toward danger or stand against furniture with unreasonable confidence.
So moments like this—when she actually slept peacefully—felt precious.
The sunlight around her made her look almost golden.
Soft.
Tiny.
Safe.
Every now and then Yongbok would pause mid-fold just to look over at the baby fondly.
“She sleeps like steamed bun,” she whispered once.
Chan nodded seriously.
“Very squishy.”
After multiple failed cranes, one successful crane, and one paper creature that looked medically concerning, the kids eventually abandoned origami altogether.
They sprawled across the carpet instead, talking lazily while Changbin sat nearby cleaning the papers.
“What hobbies do you guys have?” Innie asked suddenly.
Yongbok immediately raised both hands.
“I dance.”
“You scream,” Changbin corrected.
“I dance beautifully.”
Chan thought for a moment.
“I like dinosaurs.”
“That’s not hobby,” Yongbok informed him wisely.
“Yes it is.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Innie quickly intervened before war broke out.
“What about you, Changbin?”
Changbin shrugged lightly.
“Music. Stargazing. Cubes.”
Innie blinked. “Cubes?”
Yongbok suddenly sat upright dramatically.
“BINNIE OPPA HAS A LOT.”
She stretched both arms outward as far as physically possible.
“THIS MUCH.”
Changbin snorted. “That explains absolutely nothing.”
“It’s giant amount,” she insisted.
Innie looked intrigued immediately.
“You collect Rubik’s cubes?”
Changbin nodded toward the hallway casually. “Wanna see?”
That was how all four of them somehow ended up upstairs a few minutes later.
The moment Changbin opened the curtains around glass cupboard in his room, Innie stopped walking.
“…Whoa.”
Even Chan looked impressed although he has seen this thousands of times .
Inside the tall cabinet sat rows upon rows of cubes.
Standard 3x3 cubes.
Tiny mini cubes.
Huge complicated ones with terrifying amounts of squares.
Mirror cubes.
Pyramid-shaped cubes.
Transparent cubes.
Color gradients.
Metallic finishes.
Some looked so complicated they resembled mathematical weapons.
“You’re insane,” Innie said softly.
Changbin looked weirdly pleased by that response.
“I solve them when I’m bored.”
Yongbok pointed proudly like she personally raised him.
“He solves very very fast.”
Chan pressed his face closer to the glass. “This one looks evil.”
“That one is evil,” Changbin agreed.
Innie laughed quietly while carefully picking one up.
“You really like collecting things, huh?”
Changbin shrugged. “Guess so.”
Then suddenly he snapped his fingers lightly.
“Oh right.”
He glanced toward them.
“This is nothing.”
Yongbok gasped dramatically.
“There’s MORE?”
Changbin grinned slightly.
“We have another cupboard filled with board games.”
That statement immediately caused chaos.
Five minutes later—
The group climbed toward the small rooftop room.
It was one of the coziest places in the house.
A hidden little space built near the rooftop garden, with slanted ceilings, warm wooden walls, fairy lights wrapped around shelves, and enormous windows overlooking the lake and gardens below.
Shelves lined one entire wall.
And they were absolutely stuffed with board games.
Boxes stacked neatly over each other.
Classic games.
Strategy games.
Party games.
Card games.
Even old childhood games Jisung and Hyunjin apparently refused to throw away.
In the middle of the room sat a low wooden table surrounded by oversized bean bags.
Yongbok immediately launched herself into one dramatically.
“I LIVE HERE NOW.”
“You said that about our pantry too,” Changbin reminded.
“Because your pantry is beautiful. Mommy wants to live there too.”
Innie laughed while sitting down beside Chan, who had already started opening random game boxes.
Eventually they settled on Jenga first.
Which—
Turned out to be the worst possible choice.
At first things were calm.
Almost civilized.
Chan carefully pulled blocks with his tongue sticking out in concentration.
Innie played strategically.
Changbin pretended confidence.
Yongbok treated the game like an extreme sport.
“Bokkie,” Changbin warned as she violently yanked a block halfway out.
“It’s stable.”
“It’s literally shaking.”
“It believes in itself.”
The tower leaned dangerously.
Everyone froze.
Miraculously—
It survived.
Yongbok raised both arms triumphantly.
“I AM ENGINEER.”
“You are menace,” Changbin muttered.
Round after round, the tower grew taller and wobblier.
Tension filled the room.
Even Chan started whispering dramatically.
“This is scary.”
Innie laughed so hard she nearly ruined her own turn.
Then—
Changbin pulled a block from near the bottom expertly.
The tower swayed.
Tilted.
Paused.
Stayed standing.
He smirked.
“Skill.”
Yongbok narrowed her eyes immediately.
“Cheater.”
“Not cheating just because you’re bad.”
“I curse you.”
“You’re four.”
“Still curse.”
Then came Chan’s turn.
Poor Chan carefully poked one block.
Then another.
Then—
The entire tower collapsed violently.
Blocks exploded everywhere across the wooden table and carpet.
Yongbok screamed.
Innie fell sideways laughing.
Changbin clutched his stomach.
And Chan sat frozen in horror before whispering:
“…Oh no.”
That only made everyone laugh harder.
By the time evening settled over the house, the entire rooftop room looked like a small battlefield.
Board game pieces were scattered everywhere.
Uno cards had somehow ended up under bean bags.
Half the Jenga blocks were missing.
And Yongbok had declared herself “winner of everything” despite losing almost every single game they played.
The golden glow of sunset filtered softly through the rooftop windows, painting the room in warm orange light. Outside, the sky slowly deepened into shades of peach and lavender above the lake.
The children had long since moved on from Jenga chaos.
Now they were all lying lazily around the room in various states of exhaustion.
Chan had somehow fallen half asleep against a bean bag while holding a dinosaur figurine.
Yongbok lay upside down dramatically with one sock missing.
And Hanni—
Hanni had woken from her nap earlier and crawled directly into the room only to become everyone’s tiny princess for the remainder of the afternoon.
At ten months old, she had recently discovered speed.
Which meant nobody in the house knew peace anymore.
She crawled dangerously fast now.
So at the moment, she was sitting proudly in the middle of the carpet chewing on a soft toy while wearing one of Chan’s socks on her arm like a bracelet.
Changbin sat beside her absentmindedly solving one of his cubes while Innie watched.
“How do your fingers move that fast?” she asked quietly.
“I practiced.”
“That’s terrifying.”
“It’s talent.”
“It’s concerning.”
He snorted softly.
The peaceful atmosphere wrapped around the room comfortably.
Warm.
Sleepy.
Familiar.
From downstairs came faint sounds of Hyunjin and Jisung's voices, mixed with music playing softly somewhere in the kitchen.
Then—
A phone buzzed.
Innie checked it and blinked.
“Oh.”
Changbin looked over automatically.
“My mom’s here.”
Something inside him sank a little.
Just a little.
Yongbok immediately sat upright.
“NOOOO.”
Chan looked equally offended.
“You’re leaving already?”
Innie laughed softly while standing up. “I have to.”
Hanni babbled unhappily as if protesting too.
The group slowly made their way downstairs together.
The house downstairs glowed warmly under evening lights now. The dining table was already being set, the smell of food filling the air again.
Hyunjin appeared from the kitchen carrying plates.
“Oh? Your mom’s here?”
Innie nodded politely. “Yes, she just called.”
“Alright, let’s get your things.”
Meanwhile Yongbok had already attached herself dramatically to Innie’s leg.
“You can’t go.”
“I have school tomorrow.”
“Then cancel school.”
Changbin snorted loudly.
“That’s terrible advice.”
“It’s genius advice.”
At the front entrance, Innie slipped her shoes back on while Hyunjin handed her packed snacks because Hyunjin physically could not let a kid leave her house empty-handed.
“Eat these later, okay?”
“Thank you, eonnie , youre so sweet . But it's not like it was my first time here .”
Hyunjin snorted ,“And tell your mom to rest properly.”
“I will.”
Outside, the evening air felt cool and soft.
Innie’s mother stood beside the car smiling warmly.
“Oh dear, did she trouble you all day?”
“No trouble at all,” Hyunjin replied immediately. “I love it whenever she visits.”
Yongbok nodded aggressively beside her.
Then Innie turned toward the kids.
“Bye, Chan.”
“Bye,,, come again.”
“Bye, Bokkie.”
“Don’t forget me.”
“You would literally see me tomorrow.”
Finally—
Her eyes landed on Changbin.
And for some reason, that made his chest tighten weirdly again.
“Bye, Binnie,” she said softly.
He rolled his eyes .
But there was no real annoyance behind it.
“Bye.”
A pause.
Then Innie smiled suddenly.
“The cube collection was cool.”
Changbin blinked once.
“…Thanks.”
Innie smiled brightly before climbing into the car.
The door closed.
The engine started.
And as the car slowly drove away down the long driveway lined with garden lights—
Changbin stood there quietly watching until the taillights disappeared beyond the gates. He looked down for a second, rubbing the back of his neck absentmindedly.
Then quietly—
Very quietly—
He smiled.