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Doyoung should probably be happy about Mark going to his first day in high school. The area is safe; the school is prestigious and, the most important reason - his husband works there. It’s the perfect setup for Mark’s big send-off into teenage life. Though he knew Mark would never attempt to skip school even if the opportunity presented itself, Taeyong being there was just this extra boost in security. And he knew that every kid with adequately functioning hormones called Taeyong “the hot dance instructor with the soft eyes”, so Mark would never be the subject of misplaced academically-addled rage. His son might even attract some unwanted attention thanks to his husband’s penchant for thrusting his hips into the air.
But the possibility of Taeyong’s acclaim overshadowing Mark’s regular school life aside, there really wasn’t anything that Doyoung should be worried about. As far as he knows, everything is perfect.
However, come the first day of school he’s flustered and nervous and scared of something that he can’t fully explain.
“Honey, you’re burning the egg,” he hears Taeyong mutter beside him. Doyoung, having spaced out for a moment, doesn’t realize that the sides of the two sunny side eggs he had been cooking for his two sons has indeed scorched and were now quickly turning completely inedible.
“Oh shit.” he mutters under his breath as he quickly takes the eggs off the heat and into the bin before starting another batch.
“Hey, what’s up with you? It’s Mark’s job to burn eggs, don’t steal that from him or he’ll be rendered completely useless in the kitchen.” Taeyong says as Doyoung flips the perfectly cooked eggs into the serving platter. Doyoung is about to shoo him away, but a voice from outside the room interrupts him.
“I heard that!” comes Mark’s voice as he turns the corner into the kitchen. He’s completely showered and ready for school, his bag lazily slung across his left shoulder and a teenage sneer plastered on his face.
“It’s sad that you never inherited either of our talents in the kitchen. You somehow got stuck with your Uncle Sicheng’s prowess instead,” Taeyong coos as he leaves Doyoung’s side to ruffle Mark’s formerly pristinely combed hair.
Mark rolls his eyes as he takes a seat on the dining table, “Cooking just really isn’t my thing. Donghyuck knows how to cook anyway; I’ll live off him.”
“Oh, planning marriage so early in your life. At least get a job before you start planning for the wedding, your dad and I have to save up to pay for your reception.”
“Ew, are you all talking about Donghyuck again,” comes the wiry voice of Jaemin as he comes sulking to the table. Jaemin is a year younger than Mark and is still attending the junior high in Mark’s old school. And though they’re almost the same age, the difference in the two is quite astounding. Mark is chatty and lively, yet easily flustered, with a particular liking for song and dance much like his father. Jaemin, on the other hand, is quiet and sometimes smarmy, his pastimes include brooding in the corner and annoying his brother, and though he and Mark share many different traits, they both possess an inquisitive mind, something Doyoung prides himself on.
“Now Jaemin, you know how in love your brother is with Donghyuck but can’t seem to admit his feelings for reasons still unknown to any of us,” comes the teasing voice of Taeyong. Though many people think Jaemin takes after Doyoung’s sharp tongue, it’s Taeyong that does all the teasing in the house.
Mark is scarlet red at this point as he tries to find the words to somehow diffuse the situation, only to find air caught between his throat. Doyoung pats Mark’s head as he sits across his husband, “Stop teasing him, he’s going to get a concussion before he even starts his first day.”
“I think he’s better off with a concussion,” Jaemin quips as he sinks into his meal. Mark attempts to throw a chopstick at his younger brother, but Doyoung is quick to grab both before his fingers even reach it.
“Jaemin stop annoying your brother, you’ll get your odd crush when the time comes then it’ll be Mark’s turn to laugh at you, that is if he finally finds the guts to ask Donghyuck out.”
“Dad!” Mark whines, “Can you please stop talking about him!”
Taeyong snickers as he ruffles Mark’s hair again, even Jaemin manages a smile.
“We’re kidding bud; if it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.” Mark smiles hopefully before digging back into his meal. Taeyong can be quite loose with his words sometimes, but he knows his boundaries.
Doyoung momentarily forgets about the nipping discomfort gurgling at the bottom of his gut. Right now, they enjoy breakfast.
The rest of the morning proceeds as regularly as any school day. Doyoung stands by the door five minutes before their appointed departure time. Mark sits by the couch not so subtly texting Donghyuck about the new lyrics he wrote. Jaemin runs back to his room twice because he forgets to grab something important twice. Taeyong takes his pretty time to get all his stuff ready and gets downstairs one minute after the appointed departure time. Doyoung scolds him for being tardy, and Taeyong pecks him on the cheek before they leave for school.
Jaemin is dropped off first with whines about not feeling well, going as far as faking a coughing fit to convince his dads to let him rest at home. Doyoung, who’s driving, threatens to keep his phone in a vault if he doesn’t get out in the next two seconds. Jaemin recovers from his school-induced cold like a miracle and jumps out of the vehicle but not without sticking his tongue at his dads (Taeyong think it’s his special way of saying “I love you,” Doyoung believes it’s just Jaemin going through his sulky rebellious stage). Thankfully, once Jaemin dejectedly exits the mini-van, he’s greeted by Renjun and Jeno, all signs of his discontent about going to school pacified by the presence of his two best friends.
Doyoung drives off and the sinking feeling that he’s been harboring that morning returns alongside an odd wave of nausea. Mark is too preoccupied with his phone to notice, but Taeyong does, his hand slowly finding its way to rest on Doyoung’s own that is placed on the gear shift. His eyes reach out, and Doyoung can feel the concern seep out of his gaze. They’ve been together for so long that hiding any fluctuation in his eyes has become futile. Taeyong knows him inside, outside, sideways and in mirror image. They’ve learned each other’s non-verbal cues like it’s a second language. They’re so fluent in it that even the slightest furling of an eyebrow would translate into one of the many compartmentalized analyses stored away in some remote portion of their brain. He can never really hide anything from Taeyong, so he lets his eyes do the talking. Taeyong understands and mouths a “later” before shifting his gaze back to the road.
Mark hums quietly at the back, and Doyoung tries to remind himself that everything is okay.
That Mark is growing and up and that this is the best choice for him. That he’s facing a new chapter in his life in the best circumstances that they could ever wish. But somehow this forlorn ache hangs at the back of his throat, effectively stopping him from feeling happy about how everything has come so beautifully together.
It feels like Mark’s first day at pre-school was yesterday, his tiny fingers grasping onto Doyoung’s like his life was at stake. He still remembers the slight tremble and the soft tears that fell from his small face. Remembers him crying out for them to stay before the teacher had to lead him into the building. He even recalls how Mark told Doyoung and Taeyong about his many adventures in the nursery and how he met an odd boy by the name of Donghyuck.
He remembers Mark’s first day of grade school too. He wasn’t crying anymore, but he did hold on to Doyoung’s hand. There was no trembling anymore, but the fear was still there. No more nap times and misadventures in the sandbox, Mark was heading into something new and scary, he could not help but latch on to something warm, familiar--safe. Doyoung gave him a comforting squeeze before he let go. Mark didn’t cry, but he did turn back once and give his dads a thumbs up.
Junior High didn’t see Mark holding on to any of his fathers’ hands anymore; he did not need them anymore, he’s too grown up for that. But he did give Doyoung a final squeeze, a reassurance that everything will be okay.
But right now, as he pulls up into the school, Mark merely looks up from his phone and kisses his dads goodbye before he’s going into campus. His heart does a lurch as Mark’s head disappears amongst the crowd of students. Taeyong sees the sadness and asks him to park before he too leaves for work.
“So, tell me what’s gnawing at you,” Taeyong says, facing his husband after he instructs him to take Johnny’s parking space.
Doyoung lets out a deep sigh as he looks to the solemn building housing his son. “It feels like he’s leaving.”
Taeyong looks at him with confusion, “What do you mean?”
“I feel like he’s growing up too fast. Is this how my parents felt when I left the house?” Doyoung says to himself, “Next year it’s going to be Jaemin, oh my god I can’t do this. Let’s make another kid.”
Taeyong offers his hand so that Doyoung takes the idea of having an additional child sink back into the darkest depths of his mind.
“Calm down, hun. Mark’s not leaving the nest just yet.” Taeyong says, rubbing comforting circles on Doyoung’s palm.
“That’s easy for you to say, you’ll be seeing him every day. He’ll just lock himself in his room when he gets home then sneak out to go to some shitty house party some idiot jock will invite him to then he’ll get drunk and die.” Doyoung doesn’t know when the heavy breathing began nor does he know when Taeyong started stroking his head, but between him proposing another child and foreseeing his son’s drunken death, his breath turns from considerably okay to fucking bad. Even so, Taeyong is there to coax him back into some semblance of sanity. He always is.
“Mark is smart; he wouldn’t do that. To be very honest, he’s too much of a loser to get invited to a house party,” Taeyong says as he brings Doyoung’s hand to his lap. His husband slaps him upside the head and scolds him for saying such things about their eldest son, Taeyong just shrugs, “I’m saying this objectively. Mark’s not in that circle. Donghyuck maybe, but not Mark, he’s too driven for that.”
Doyoung huffs as he lets Taeyong take his hand back onto his lap again, “Anyway, Mark will probably run to you when he wants to complain about school and his nonexistent love life. He trusts you the most with those things.”
Doyong stops looking at the building like a bereaved mother who lost her son at sea and looks at Taeyong incredulously. Taeyong returns it, “Don’t look so surprised; he always talks to you about the hard stuff. You’re the most patient, understanding and empathetic person I know, I understand why he does it. It’s one of the reasons I married you.”
“And here I thought you married me because I’m hot.”
“Well, that too.”
Doyong flashes Taeyong a smile, “Am I overreacting? Is this your melodrama rubbing off of me? Do I have to see someone? Is this a weird syndrome that I have to get myself checked on?”
“One of the setbacks of marrying you is that you also don’t shut up.”
Doyoung smacks him on the forehead, “Thanks for comforting your grieving husband. I’m not loved anymore. First, my son left, now my husband has forsaken me, and the next thing you know, Jaemin’s filing for emancipation before suing me for child abuse because I gave him more vegetables than Mark.”
Taeyong just rolls his eyes and places a tender kiss on Doyoung’s lips, “I love you my Dodo, now stop overreacting. Mark’s not leaving for the army, nor is he going to stop needing you.” He squeezes Doyoung’s hand one more time, “He’ll still need his neurotic, worrywart of a dad to get him through all the angst he has to face.”
“Just because we had a weird pining after each other over the course of high school doesn’t mean Mark’s going to have that too.”
“Two words honey, Lee Donghyuck.”
Doyoung has to give it to Taeyong - of the many regular things that Mark has done; there’s always one or two anomalous choices that often result in either falling into the Han River or getting stuck in a tree. And more often than not, these choices are driven by a certain Lee Donghyuck. It’s not that Donghyuck is a bad kid, because he’s sweet, kind and utterly loveable, but he’s also just random. Part of Donghyuck’s charm is his ability to get Mark to do anything, and when Doyoung says anything, he means it. He’s just semi-thankful that Donghyuck hasn’t thought of committing arson. Donghyuck is the variable in Mark’s life of steady constants, the one factor that can make or break his tender, little heart.
“Surely not so soon.”
Taeyong shakes his head, “You’d be surprised. But stop worrying everything will be back to how it was and you’ll have your worrier of a son back on our bed, while I try to get Jaemin interested in dance.”
Doyoung lets go of Taeyong’s hand as he exits the van, leaving Doyoung left with nothing to do but hope that his husband’s words ring true in the end.
They don’t, well, not immediately.
When Doyoung comes to pick Mark and Taeyong up, he’s surprised to see Mark sulking. Like some intense, Jaemin-level sulking. His eldest son does not sulk, he pouts, throws something at Jaemin’s head maybe, but he never prolonged brooding with eyebrows scrunched so intensely you’d think he grew a monobrow over the course of the school day. Doyoung can count with his fingers the number of times Mark has sulked in his life, so when he comes in looking like someone just stole both his lunch and lunch money, Doyoung is more than concerned. However, one look from Taeyong tells him that this is not the time to bombard Mark with sentiments of concern. Sadly, the same cannot be said for Jaemin. When they pick him up, their second son immediately gets to work, making fun of how his brother looks like a wet puppy who was forced to go to the vet, and that prompts a brawl in the car that neither Doyoung or Taeyong had the energy to pacify.
They arrive home, Doyoung and Taeyong tag teaming to prepare dinner while the kids head back to their rooms. As soon as the two are out of earshot, Doyoung pounces on his husband, “What is wrong with Mark?” he asks urgently, his hands grabbing onto Taeyong’s shirt tightly.
“Calm down before you get an aneurysm,” Taeyong replies as he tries to push Doyoung out of his state of heightened paranoia, “He was okay during lunch, but between that and dismissal something happened. He didn’t even kiss me when he greeted me, just stood there and said ‘hey’ like a little punk.”
“What got him so riled up like that? This doesn’t make sense.” Doyoung places his fingers on his lips as he thinks. Taeyong ignores him to reach for the apron with the embroidered “D” stitched to the right chest from the hook and gently drapes it around his husband, “I say let him sulk it out of his system. He’ll figure things out.”
Doyoung being Doyoung doesn’t like to leave things unsettled, he wants things to be solved as soon as possible, but he knows that this problem is not for him to solve. As much as he wants to nip his son’s ongoing...Hormonal? School related? Relationship problem at the bud, he can’t. Part of growing up is getting frustrated and solving things on your own, even if it causes minor stress and anxiety in your father’s heart.
Taeyong, seeing the inner conflict raging within the deep creases forming on Doyoung’s temple, pinches his cheek delicately, “Don’t meddle. You’re going to explode in his face and worry him even more. Calm down and let your son sulk, it’s not the end of the world, okay? Not everyone can just stomp up to the subject of their problems and tell them in precise detail what’s bothering them.”
“It’s not my fault you were dense,” Doyoung sighs as Taeyong gives him a soft peck on the cheek, “Leave him and concentrate on making a nice dinner to celebrate a day without anyone suffering bodily harm.”
“Not really, I think Jaemin got a bruise from all the tumbling they did in the car,” Doyoung says, grabbing the bowl of the rice cooker and filling it with enough for their family of four, “I asked him if he wanted something for it when we got down, but he just shook his head and murmured something that oddly sounded like ‘battle scar.’”
“Aish, sometimes I really don’t understand what that boy is going through. One of these days he’s going to come home with a dislocated elbow, and he’ll tell us that he’ll heal it himself,” Taeyong groans as he starts steaming the vegetables for their banchan.
“Do you think we should talk to him about it?” Doyoung asks, taking out the pre-cut pork and dumping it into a pot for the kimchi stew.
“I don’t think so; I never liked talking to my parents at that age. Let him do what he wants, let’s intervene when he actually comes home looking like a human punching bag,” he says as he starts blanching bean sprouts in lightly salted water, “You know what they say, 'experience is life’s greatest teacher.'”
Doyoung lets it go, pouring his attention on the stew he’s making while Taeyong prepares all the side dishes. “How was work?” Doyoung asks after some time of silent work around the kitchen. They’re both capable cooks so preparing food never really results in them bickering so often. Taeyong is a perfectionist and a clean-freak while Doyoung likes everything organized in military-grade fashion, so meal duties usually go off like clockwork.
“It’s the first day, so nothing really happens. I just got to meet my students and orientate them, nothing new. How about you, anything interesting happened in the studio today?”
Doyoung shrugs, “Same old, same old.” The rest of the hour has the two of them moving like two cranks in a machine. Movements are almost looking calculated, their bodies gliding and sliding through their small kitchen like it spanned the expanse of their living room rather than the 300 square meters of cupboards, limited counter space, and four burner gas range. Dinner is served promptly at seven, both boys leaving their rooms without too much fuss.
The two brothers have somehow settled their fight in the car with some low grunts that sounded like teenager-speak for “I’m sorry.” The two fathers don’t fully understand how it panned out, but for now, they eat. (Doyoung mentally pins this into his how to raise two teenage boys manual for dads under “in need of further study.”)
Mark is still visibly tense and Jaemin looks like he wants to wage war against his saucer of kimchi. Doyoung doesn’t give it much attention and lets him threaten the fermented cabbage in his head.
Doyoung begins with the all too obvious, “So how was your first day?”
He should already know that this is the equivalent of asking a goat if it likes grazing on grass. There’s something so hollow and ambivalent in the way his sons' answer. Jaemin with a nonchalant “fine” and Mark with a low grunt. It’s the bare minimum and how Doyoung remembers answering to his parents during his I’m-so-important and my-parents-will-never-understand-me phase of his life, so he can’t really blame his sons for giving him their answer to a moot, parent question.
He gives Taeyong a look and thankfully his husband is quick on the uptake, immediately facing Jaemin and asking, “So how are Jeno and Renjun doing?”
Jaemin raises his head after chewing on some kimchi, “They’re fine, Jeno wants me to join him in the wrestling team.”
Doyoung stops himself from giving Jaemin a look. Of all the things he would be interested in, it’s wrangling other boys into the ground, at least it explains his fixation with fighting. Doyoung would be lying if he said that he’s enthusiastic about Jaemin potentially being a wrestler. His frame is so delicate that Doyoung feels like he’ll get pummelled without much effort. He also wanted to tell him that his hyung isn’t the ideal gauge of fighting prowess. But he bites his tongue half because he doesn’t want to discourage Jaemin without him even trying and half because Taeyong has his heel deliberately pressed into his toes.
“That sounds interesting, have you given it any thought?” Taeyong asks. Jaemin gauges his father’s expression and after deeming it as genuinely curious, he sits up, a slight smile reaching the corners of his mouth, “Yeah, actually. I think I might do it.”
Taeyong smiles back and Doyoung gives him a reassuring thumbs up even though everything in his gut wants him to warn his son to not go into it because he might get hurt; and that he’s such a delicate little boy, so he should just join Renjun in painting instead of rolling around in his own sweat. But he knows all too well about the judging stares of parents that can destroy all your self-esteem with a simple bat of the eye. So he sucks in all his clumped up anxieties of potentially splintered bones and dislocated sockets and lets Jaemin know that even if he thinks wrestling is absolutely boorish and stupid, he’ll support his interests because that’s what good parents do, right?
They’re still figuring each other out, fathers and sons. They’re still trying to learn about each other. It’s still walking on eggshells and trying to know how to deal with the mood swings and hormones. Fatherhood, as Doyoung has come to know, is a constant learning game with no substantial breaks in between. It’s always discovering and adapting, then when you think you’ve solved the riddle, another one comes out in the form of high school and peer pressure and acne and academics--all the governing laws of stupid decisions. But this headache comes with the joy of bringing up two lovely boys. He’ll endure the escalating pain growing at the base of his neck and allow his son to enjoy getting thrown on a mat. He just hopes that he either gets really good at it or realizes that the wrestling life is not for him and quits while he’s still ahead.
(He always liked Jeno, but right now he wants to have a good long talk with him and his bad life decisions.)
For now, he directs his attention to Mark, taking the cue from Taeyong’s example. He goes in sweetly with “So honey, how’s Donghyuck?” Doyoung just wants to test the waters with something neutral, a subject that always sends his eldest son into a fit of giggles and elongated narratives of how perfect Donghyuck is. So when Mark freezes mid-bite and starts rolling his eyes and mumbling about something inaudible before excusing himself from the table, Doyoung and Taeyong are left speechless and confused.
Jaemin looks at both his dads with slight surprise, “He’s upset because someone asked Donghyuck out and he said yes. I thought you two knew.”
Doyoung lets out a heavy sigh as Taeyong blinks confused before uttering, “At least now we know what’s bothering him.”
It’s after dinner, about an hour after Mark’s little outburst, that Doyoung approaches his door. Not to his surprise, the door is bolted shut. He knows that Taeyong said to leave Mark alone, but that’s not how Doyoung rolls. He’ll intervene when his son is hurt and confused because he’s a dad, and though he understands Taeyong’s need to give Mark space, Doyoung does things differently. Take care of those who are in pain. Patch them up, make them better again. This is doubly true when it concerns someone he loves more than life itself.
He knocks three times. No answer.
He tries again.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Again, nothing.
He tries one more time.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
This time there’s a garbled groan before he hears Mark say, “Dad go away, I don’t want to talk.”
Doyoung should take that as a sign to leave. It’s not just Taeyong’s nagging voice that’s telling him to back off, but Mark’s sad, lonely, tired voice as well. This should be the moment he backs off and fights another day. He should cut his losses and try to talk to him another time, at a better time, but sometimes the way to win a battle is to pester and fight and try till you can’t anymore.
“I know it feels sad seeing someone you really like going out with another person, especially if you like that person a lot. I know Donghyuck is special to you, but it’s one date, you don’t even know if it’ll go well,” he says to the door, “This isn’t the end Marky, you’ll find another time. Just know that if you need someone to talk to, our door is always open.”
Mark doesn’t say anything, not that Doyoung expects him to. The silence lingers on for a minute before Doyoung lets go.
“Good night, Mark,” he says to no response. He leaves, a little defeated.
Taeyong should hug him real tight tonight or else he’s kicking him out of the room.
If Taeyong is any good at anything, it’s cuddling. He makes sure to envelop you in this tight ring of warmth. Doyoung doesn’t know how he does it, but Taeyong is capable of encapsulating you in this perfect balance of pressure that you feel free enough to wriggle about in if there’s slight discomfort, yet tight enough to make you feel like you’re safe and loved.
Taeyong’s cuddles are a family favorite, Doyoung’s especially. That’s why he’s wrapped comfortably in one right now, but there’s something foreign nudging at him, something that is clearly not Taeyong’s arm.
He opens his eyes to a dark figure hovering over him like a specter. Doyoung’s faculties are too addled to respond sharply, so what comes out instead of a scream is this slow, stupid moan of surprise that sounds more like a cross between a yawn and a moan. The figure snickers lightly at the sound and Doyoung is inclined to tell the dark ghost that he is disrespectful when he notices the mop of unruly hair sticking out in all directions.
“Mark?”
His son kneels so that his eyes are level with his father. Doyoung turns on the lampshade beside him and is shocked to see that Mark’s eyes are a little red-rimmed, with traces of tears still etched on his skin.
“Can I sleep here?” he asks, broken. Doyoung immediately breaks away from Taeyong’s grasp and sits up, his hands coming for Mark’s face.
“Baby, of course. Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.
Mark only shakes his head and crawls over to lie between his two dads, “I just want to cuddle.” Doyoung nods and lets him curl up beside him. He gently strokes Mark’s hair and kisses his forehead as he tucks him in.
He stays like that, stroking his son long after he’s gone back to sleep, gentle breaths hitting the base of his neck. Half an hour into his ministrations, the other side of the bed wakes up and Taeyong stares confusedly at the lump in between him and his husband. When he realizes it’s Mark he looks at Doyoung and places a gentle kiss on his forehead, “Told you so,” he says before he joins in on the hug and falls back asleep.
Doyoung smiles, the heaviness of the morning, the afternoon and the evening suddenly feeling like distant memories. Mark’s growing up, he’s facing new things, he’s becoming more in tune with himself, but when the world becomes too loud and complicated for him, Doyoung will be there. That’s the best he can do. He knows at one point Mark will stop depending on him and Taeyong, one day he’ll work and maybe start a family of his own, but for now, he’s Doyoung’s baby. He’ll cherish this for as long as he can.
When they wake up, Jaemin gets a bit peeved that he wasn’t invited to the cuddle session last night, so Doyoung promises he can have his own later that night ( Jaemin doesn’t say it outright, but his fathers know a dejected Jaemin when they see one). Later in the day, Mark comes back happy. Jaemin says it’s because Donghyuck canceled on his date last minute. Doyoung doesn’t assume anything. He asks Mark if he knows anything about it, to which he just shrugs, but when his son excuses himself from dinner to talk to someone important on the phone, he thinks maybe, just maybe Mark knows more about Donghyuck’s sudden cancellation than he initially let on.