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Jongdae is just getting all his students out of the classroom and into the waiting room when he first sees him. The man is tall and impeccably dressed, hair curled up and out of his eyes in a pretty little coif. “Hello,” Jongdae greets, unsure if he’s a new parent here. He knows pretty much all of his kids’ parents, since they come in for the biannual parent-teacher conference. He certainly doesn’t look like a parent; a man dressed that well wouldn’t send his children here. “Are you here to inquire about the next school year?”

Something flashes across the man’s face, and Jongdae winces internally. “No, I, ah,” He clears his throat. “I’m here because—would you happen to be the person in charge?”

“Well, I’m these kids’ teacher?” Jongdae answers, tilting his head. “Is there a problem?”

“Oh, no, no problem,” He says. “Sorry, my name’s Chanyeol. Park Chanyeol, and I’ve got a couple of things out in my car I’d like to give to the students if possible.”

Jongdae jolts to attention at that. His kids don’t get a lot around this time of year because their families can’t afford it. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol scratches the back of his head. There’s something sad about him that tugs on Jongdae’s heartstrings. “Clothes and toys, stuff like that.”

“That’s wonderful!” Jongdae gushes, bowing frantically. “If you’re really okay with parting with them, we’d love to accept.”

Chanyeol nods and jerks a thumb over his shoulder, back out at the door. “I’ll just go get them then.”

“Thank you so much!” Jongdae bows again at Chanyeol’s retreating form even while he gives one of his students a goodbye pat on the head when their mother walks in through the door. 

“Teacher Jongdae?” Jongdae looks down, little Wheein’s large eyes staring up at him. “Are we getting presents?”

Jongdae smiles, crouching down so he’s eye level with Wheein. “Have you been a good girl this year?”

Wheein nods eagerly, and the word ‘presents’ somehow attracts the attention of every child in the room. They all rush towards him, crowding around his legs. “We’ll hopefully have presents for everyone, okay?” Jongdae placates them, giving each of them a soft little boop on the nose or a pat on the head.

Chanyeol chooses this moment to walk back into the room, arms laden with immaculately wrapped gifts. Almost immediately the hoard of wide-eyed children abandon Jongdae’s side for Chanyeol’s knees, sending him the puppiest of puppy eyes. “Oh,” Chanyeol says, blinking and holding the gifts up and out of the children’s reach.

“Kids, now’s not the time,” Jongdae smiles, deciding to save Chanyeol from his awkward predicament. “You need to wait for our Christmas Eve party before you can open them; if you’re not good, Santa Claus will come and turn all of the pretty presents into coal.”

There’s a collective gasp before everyone quickly stops trying to jump up for the presents. They’re still crowded around Chanyeol, though, and it makes Jongdae laugh. “Everyone say ‘thank you Mr Park’.”

“Thank you Mr Park!” The children chorus.

“Just Mr Chanyeol is fine,” Chanyeol chuckles, gingerly making his way over to the shelf behind Jongdae to deposit the gifts. “You’ll all be good from now ‘til Christmas Eve, right?”

“Yes, Mr Chanyeol!”

Jongdae chuckles, absolutely tickled by how his entire class has had their attention commandeered by the stranger. What wouldn’t he give to be able to have such a well behaved class all the time, but he supposes that that’s the wonder of children.

“Mr Park,” Jongdae starts.

“Chanyeol,” He corrects, shoving his now free hands into the pockets of his coat. “Just Chanyeol is fine.”

“Chanyeol, then,” Jongdae amends, smiling politely. “Thank you so much. Our kids don’t get much, if anything at all, this time of year.”

Chanyeol shakes his head, looking sad all of a sudden. Jongdae wonders if he’s said something wrong, and berates himself about it. “It’s nothing, I just—had them lying around and nothing to do with them, so I thought I would bring them over.”

Jongdae is distracted when Hyejin zooms out of the room upon seeing her mother, dragging Wheein behind her as she goes. “Be careful!” He shouts after them but knowing neither would heed his warning. He sighs, shaking his head, and notices Chanyeol watching after them with something that looks like a wistful expression etched across his face. “If you don’t mind, would you wait a while? I’d really like to have a cup of tea with you after all the kids are gone.”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to intrude—”

“Definitely not,” Jongdae shakes his head firmly. “I’m so grateful that you’ve decided on our pre-school to donate to, Chanyeol. I’d like to talk to you, a little, get to know your story.”

Chanyeol seems to take his time to think about it while Jongdae tries not to get his hopes up. He seems like a pretty good guy, but Jongdae is still a stranger to him after all; he has no reason to stay and tell Jongdae anything. “I guess,” Chanyeol heaves a sigh, shaking his head slightly before looking up at Jongdae with a rueful little smile. “I’ll take you up on the offer, then. Thank you so much.”

“Wonderful!” Jongdae says, clapping his hands together. “Please, take a seat,” He gestures towards the bench, then flushes when he remembers that they’re all targeted at children, with teddy bears and hangul scrawled on them, but Chanyeol says nothing and takes it all in stride. 

The kids’ parents and guardians come and go, empty handed then with a child either in their arms or clinging onto their hand. Jongdae waves at every one of them as they leave, giving the more affectionate ones a hug or a kiss on the forehead. Chanyeol sits on the bench, silent, but he won’t stop looking at the door with that same expression on his face. Jongdae wonders what it is that has him looking like that.

“See you next Monday, teacher Jongdae!” Little Jisung shouts as he rushes to take his mother’s hand. “Remember to save some of the presents for me!”

Jongdae laughs and walks over to him to ruffle his hair. “Only if you’re good for your mother this weekend, Jisung,” He wags his index finger at his student, then straightens up to wink at his mother. “If she says you’ve been a bad boy at home when she brings you into school next week then Santa will hear her and all your presents will turn into coal.”

Jisung gasps, eyes widening in horror. “I’ll be the best boy this weekend, teacher Jongdae! I will, I will! Promise!”

“Good,” Jongdae smiles, waving at Jisung when his mother leads him out the door after giving Jongdae a polite nod in greeting. “See you next Monday!”

“Bye bye!”

“You really have a way with kids.”

Jongdae jumps a couple of feet into the air, having forgotten that Chanyeol was in the room. “Sorry,” Chanyeol apologises, looking a little pink around the ears. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, that was all me. It was rude of me; I shouldn’t have forgotten you were here, especially since you came bearing gifts,” Jongdae shakes his head. “And, well, it’s a part of my job, interacting with kids. They’re a bright bunch, if a little hard to handle sometimes.”

“You must like children a lot, to work here.”

Jongdae grabs the gifts Chanyeol had brought with him and moves towards his office, gesturing for Chanyeol to do the same and follow him, pleased when he does. “I got a degree in education,” He shrugs. “It’s not what I really wanted to pursue, personally, but my mother said that music wasn’t going to feed mouths, so I took on education to please her. After that she had no qualms about letting me get a masters in music, as long as I paid for it myself.”

Chanyeol whistles lowly. “That’s impressive.”

“Is it?” Jongdae laughs. He places the gifts on his desk before moving to grab an extra chair out for Chanyeol. “I guess to could be, but mostly I just did what I had to do in order to be able to do what I want to do. But we’re not here to talk about me; take a seat, I’ll be right with you.”

Jongdae bustles around his desk, grabbing the kettle and putting it on to boil. He rummages around in his desk drawer, then looks sheepishly up at Chanyeol. “Would hot chocolate be okay with you? I’m afraid I’ve run out of teabags.”

“Hot chocolate’s fine.”

He spends some time debating with himself as to whether he should add the mini marshmallows to the mix, then decides that if Chanyeol doesn’t like them he can either fish them out or ignore them. He quickly mixes the now hot water into the chocolate mix and tops it off with the mini marshmallows and hands a mug to Chanyeol, who cradles it in his hands like it’s something precious. 

“So, Chanyeol,” Jongdae says after he’s taken a sip of his own chocolate and set it aside. “I’d like to thank you once again for your generous donations. It’ll make the children’s year, really. If I’m not prying too much, could I ask for your reason for coming to us instead of, ah, the Salvation Army, for example? It’s not very often someone takes notice of our little preschool, you see.”

Chanyeol gives a dry, humourless laugh. It’s laced with so much sadness and pain that it hardly even sounds like a laugh—a poor mimicry of one. He doesn’t speak for some time, opting to stare into his hot chocolate silently. Jongdae remains silent, unsure if he’s already stepped over a line.

“I don’t know,” Chanyeol says, voice scratchy, like he’s holding back tears. When he finally tears his eyes away from his drink to look at Jongdae, his eyes are red rimmed. “I don’t know, really. I don’t know why I chose to come in here, either. I just had them all in the back of my car, on my way to get rid of them. I wanted to burn them, but then I drove past this place and saw a kid leaving with their dad.

“I lost my wife and child in a traffic accident last week,” Chanyeol confesses hoarsely. His hands are trembling around his mug, lowering it quickly to his lap. “I’d bought all of the gifts for them,” He waves his hand at the pile sitting innocently on Jongdae’s table. “Then I got the call at work. It was the worst day of my life.”

Jongdae swallows, not having expected that. He’d honestly thought that Chanyeol had just been any other philanthropist, someone who saw the preschool and decided to do their good deed for the year. “I’m so sorry,” Jongdae whispers, bowing his head. “I didn’t think—when I asked to hear your story, I didn’t know it would bring up such bad memories for you.”

Chanyeol takes a deep breath, then shakes his head. “You couldn’t have known,” He answers. “Besides, I came here with you willingly, didn’t I?” He says with another shake of his head. “I guess I just wanted to tell someone. Someone who wouldn’t look at me like my parents, or my in-laws, like they’re going to burst into tears every time they set their eyes on me.

“I don’t blame them, of course: they’d just lost their grandchild, for my in-laws their daughter,” Chanyeol takes another deep breath that he exhales quickly. “But I lost my child, too. I lost my wife.”

Jongdae looks at him, then stands up and moves towards him. “I know we don’t know each other very well, Chanyeol,” Jongdae says. “But can I give you a hug?” 

Chanyeol looks at him like he’s crazy for a moment, before he laughs and puts his mug down on the desk beside him. “Yes, please,” He says, nodding slightly, eyes now teary. “That would be nice.”

Jongdae wraps him up in his embrace, arms circling his shoulders. He feels Chanyeol take another shuddering breath, before there are arms coming up to hug his own torso. “Thank you,” Chanyeol mumbles, voice a little muffled by the fabric of Jongdae’s knit sweater. 

“Take as long as you need,” Jongdae tells him. “I’ll hold you until you feel better.”

Chanyeol nods, and Jongdae moves his hand up to stroke his hair, hesitantly at first, then in earnest when he feels Chanyeol lean into his touch. Chanyeol’s shoulders begin to shake, but Jongdae doesn’t say anything, just continues to move his hand through Chanyeol’s hair in an almost meditative motion. It takes some time, but after ten minutes or so Chanyeol pushes gently against him, and Jongdae knows it’s time to let go.

“Better?” Jongdae asks, then wants to slap himself. It was such a stupid question to ask someone who had just lost their family.

But Chanyeol sends him a watery smile. “Just a little, but yes. I didn’t think much about it, but I really needed that. Thank you, Jongdae.”

“It was nothing,” Jongdae waves him off. “It’s the least I can do to repay you, and if you feel better because of it then I’m glad.”

 Chanyeol’s lips twitch up in a half-smile, then he’s picking up his mug of hot chocolate and downing it, even though it must be lukewarm by now. “I should get going now,” He says. “Thank you, for the drink and the comfort.”

“Of course,” Jongdae says, getting up and taking Chanyeol’s mug, shaking his head when Chanyeol asks where the sink is so he can wash up. “I’ll get to it; you’re the guest here. I’ve kept you far too long.”

Chanyeol laughs, if a little dryly. “It’s not like I have anyone to go home to.”

Jongdae stills at that, but Chanyeol quickly backtracks and apologises. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. You just took time out of your day to comfort me and I say that to you. It’s not. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not,” Chanyeol says firmly. “It was a terrible thing to say, and I’m sorry.”

Jongdae smiles softly. “Apology accepted, then.” 

Chanyeol returns his smile, and Jongdae takes that as his cue to show him the way out. The man is out the door and on his way to his car when Jongdae finally unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth, garnering enough courage to call: “Chanyeol?”

Chanyeol turns around, shooting Jongdae a questioning gaze. 

“We’re having our annual Christmas party next week,” He says. “I was just wondering if you’d like to come if you don’t have anything scheduled for that day?”

Chanyeol looks pensive for a moment before he shrugs. “Sure, I’ll come. I’ve got a couple weeks off anyways. Should I bring anything?”

Jongdae shakes his head frantically. “Oh, no, you’ve already done too much us. All the kids will be bringing something in from home, just a little potluck type of celebration. Really, they’ll probably be excited just to see you again.”

Chanyeol smiles then, a small, sad one, and Jongdae kicks himself mentally. “Let me go get a post-it note! I’ll write the details down for you.”

“No need,” Chanyeol says, walking back to him. He takes his phone out of his pocket and hands it to Jongdae in one deft motion. “Here, put your number in. I’ll give you a call so you have mine, then you can just text me the details.”

“Ah,” Jongdae agrees, taking Chanyeol’s phone and quickly punching his contact information in. “There,” He says, giving it back to Chanyeol with both hands.

“Right,” Chanyeol says, tapping the call button and letting it ring a few times before cutting the call off once Jongdae confirms it on his own. He looks up again, then, to wave goodbye to Jongdae with one hand. “I’ll see you next week, then.”

“See you,” Jongdae replies, beaming and waving back until Chanyeol slides into his car and drives off. He clasps his hands together near his chest, feeling surprisingly light on his feet. “This year’s Christmas party will be a good one,” He breathes. “I’ll make sure it is.”

Jongdae finds himself putting a lot more effort into the Christmas party than he normally would. He doesn’t know why, but he wants it to be perfect, especially since Chanyeol will be attending. He tells itself it’s because he wants to repay Chanyeol as much as possible for his donations, but if even Jongin of all people is noticing, then he’s definitely doing a lot more.

“I don’t know, hyung,” Jongin shrugs when Jongdae corners him about it. “You’re just more gung ho about it this year, I guess? I mean, it’s not that you don’t usually try to make sure that the party is perfect for the kids, but you seem to be more into it this year.”

“I just want them to have a good time,” Jongdae defends himself.

“And they always do,” A passing Junmyeon says. “You don’t need to worry so much about it, Jongdae. When have the kids not enjoyed what you prepare for them?” Junmyeon stops in his tracks when he sees the spread laid out on the kitchen counter. “Although admittedly you don’t usually go to the effort of making this many dishes. Did something happen on Friday?”

Jongdae sighs, kneading the dough for his sugar cookies just a little more violently than required. “Someone came in after you left on Friday,” He says. “They brought a ton of gifts with them for the kids. Turns out he originally bought them for his wife and kid, but they were caught in a fatal traffic accident a couple weeks ago. I invited him to the party and he said he would come, so, I don’t know,” Jongdae shrugs. “I guess I just want him to have as good a time as the children do.”

“That sounds awful,” Jongin frowns, sitting himself down at the island counter. “He must’ve been so upset.”

“He said he picked our preschool out to donate to because he was reminded of his son,” Jongdae swallows, shaking his head. “He was so sad, Jongin. I just—want him to enjoy the festivities with us, I guess. I know it’s probably really hard for him, but he still agreed to come for the kids, anyways. It just feels right to want him to not be left out.”

“You and your bleeding heart,” Junmyeon says fondly, but Jongdae knows that his older brother is just as touched by the story as he is. “All right, then. We’ll make sure this year’s Christmas party is the best we’ve ever had. I’ll go out and get a couple of extra gifts for the kids, and maybe even something for the man himself. We always get a little something for the kids but since they’ll get proper toys this year I should thank him personally.”

Jongdae grins, glad that he’s not the only one who wants to give Chanyeol the best and more. “You’re the best, hyung.”

“And what am I?” Jongin complains. “Chopped liver?”

“Aw, Jonginnie,” Jongdae coos, a wicked glint in his eyes. “How could I forget you? You’re the best baby brother I’ve ever had.”

“I’m your only baby brother,” Jongin snorts. “That’s basically no compliment at all.”

“Hey!” Jongdae says. “Take my love!” He shakes his floury hands in Jongin’s direction, body hunched like he’s about to run at him. Jongin stiffens, recognising when his older brother is up to no good, and soon Jongdae is rushing after Jongin like a man crazed, Jongin screeching as he tries to get away from his older brother.

“Minseok hyung!” Jongin shrieks, ducking behind the safety of their oldest brother when they burst into the sitting room. “Save me!”

Minseok raises an eyebrow at the both of them. “What is going on?”

“I’m trying to show Jonginnie my love!” Jongdae pouts, sending Minseok the saddest eyes he can muster. “He won’t give me a hug, hyung!”

“Look at his hands!” Jongin fires back, sending Minseok his own pout. “He’ll get me all floury!”

Minseok snorts, rolling his eyes. “How old are the two of you again?”

Jongin and Jongdae share a glance at that statement, then grin. Minseok stiffens up in his hair, as though able to sense that something is wrong but unable to tell what exactly it is. Jongin grabs Minseok to pin him down as Jongdae surges forward, clapping his flour coated hands onto Minseok’s cheeks.

By the time Minseok comes back to his senses, Jongdae’s already running for his life, laughing as he tugs Jongin along through the hallway all the way back to the kitchen.

Family really is the best, Jongdae thinks, even as he can hear Minseok’s shout as he rushes after them. He just wishes Chanyeol could somehow join in on this, too.

Jongdae gets up on the day of Christmas Eve at the crack of dawn. Jongdae would usually never be caught awake at this time—he’s more of a stay awake ‘til 3 in the morning type of guy, but today’s the one day that he refuses to sleep in. He drags himself out of bed and washes up, brushing his teeth with a ferocity that has his gums aching after he’s done.

“Good morning,” He mumbles to a bleary Junmyeon when they bump into each other in the kitchen, getting a muttered greeting in return. Jongdae blindly paws at the coffee machine; none of the Kim brothers are ever entirely awake before they’ve had their morning shot of caffeine. He sits at the dining table and stares at Junmyeon, who blinks blearily back at him, until the coffee machine whirs to signal that it’s done, and they both stagger over to it like zombies.

They cradle their mugs in their hands, sipping at it periodically. Minseok walks into the room and grunts at them, then downs an entire mug of black coffee in the time that it took Jongdae to take one and a half sips of his own.

Feeling marginally more awake, Jongdae moves over to the refrigerator and pats his past self on the back for making a couple of jars of overnight oats. He retrieves them and doles them out to his brothers, scooping a huge mouthful of his own as he sits down and shoving it into his mouth.

“So,” He says, once he’s more human than zombie. “Are you coming in today, Minseok hyung?”

Minseok sighs. “Hopefully,” He raises his jar of oats towards Jongdae in thanks. “I’ve got a couple of things to sort out at the coffee shop, but I’m planning to close once the morning rush is over. Once I’ve got everything taken care of over there, I’ll see if there’s still time to drop by.”

“All right,” Jongdae nods, then points his spoon at Jongin, who’s only just now dragging himself into the kitchen. “What about you, Jonginnie? Are you coming to our party today?”

Jongin doesn’t reply, only collapses into the chair next to Jongdae and buries his face in his shoulder, looking for all he’s worth like a sleepy seven year old rather than the twenty seven year old that he actually is. Jongdae coos, reaching over with his free hand to pinch Jongin’s cheeks. “Still sleepy?”

“Mmph,” Jongin manages to get out, and Jongdae laughs, ruffling his younger brother’s hair. He’s way too cute for his own good. He lets Jongin rest some of his weight on him, continuing with finish his breakfast. He chats with Junmyeon and Minseok, both much better conversationalists than Jongin at this time of day. “Hyung,” Jongin finally pipes up when Jongdae’s done with his meal. “Oats?”

Minseok snorts at how spoiled he is, but gets up and fetches him his jar; it’s not clear which older brother he’s addressing, but every person at the table is whipped for Jongin, and the little devil knows it. “Eat up, you’ll need your energy for the day.”

“Yes, hyung,” Jongin grumbles, but sits up straight anyways and starts shovelling food into his mouth. 

Jongdae gets up from the table and presses a kiss to Jongin’s forehead, ignoring the younger’s whine. “Come pay us a visit if you have time, okay?” He says with another ruffle of Jongin’s hair.

“Okay,” Jongin says, but he’s got a mouthful of oats and fruit, so it sounds more like fofay than anything else. Jongdae smiles indulgently, then goes back to his room to change into clothes more appropriate for the day.

He spends some time just messing around on his phone once he’s changed because Junmyeon’s tagging along with him to decorate today, and his older brother is notorious for taking ages to get ready. Even Jongin, who had woken up last, is up and running around the door before Junmyeon.

He’s just reading through the newest update of the webtoon that he’s been hooked to recently when the message arrives.

> Hello Jongdae! This is Chanyeol.

> I guess you already knew that since you have my number.

> The party’s today, right?

Hello, Chanyeol! <

Yup, it’s today! Our school opens at 8 so the party starts around 830 <

I’ll be there earlier to decorate if you need anything! <

> Nah, just wanted to make sure

> I’m really bad with dates sometimes

> I’ll see you later then, Jongdae

Of course! See you then! <

“Let’s go,” Junmyeon says, car keys in hand, like he’s not the reason that Jongdae’s been sitting with nothing to do for the past 20 minutes of his morning. Jongdae grins when he looks up from his phone anyways, and gets up to leave the house. That makes Junmyeon pause, who’s used to Jongdae griping about his tardiness. “You’re certainly cheery today.”

“It’s Christmas Eve!” Jongdae chirps, bouncing his way to the car with his thermal bags full of food in hand. “If I’m not cheery today when should I be, hyung?”

Junmyeon shrugs. “I just meant that you’re extra preppy today. You didn’t even say a thing about how long I took to get ready.”

Jongdae snorts, then clings to Junmyeon’s arm like a barnacle. “Do you want me to? Why’d you have to take 20 minutes longer than me, hyung? It’s not that difficult to pick out the clothes you want to wear the day before, and—”

“That wasn’t an invitation to start,” Junmyeon informs, slapping a hand over Jongdae’s mouth. Jongdae grins, then licks it, because admittedly he’s kind of disgusting like that sometimes. “Gross.”

“You love me,” Jongdae singsongs, sliding into the passenger seat of the car because he can’t be bothered to drive. Junmyeon sends him an exasperated look, but gets into the driver’s seat cooperatively anyways. Even if he hadn’t Jongdae and his puppy eyes would have managed to convince him into doing it.

They get to the preschool in record time, because an antsy Jongdae makes for an impatient Junmyeon, and an impatient Junmyeon is a hell of a speed driver—or at least, as much as possible without going over the speed limits, because an impatient Junmyeon is still Junmyeon. Jongdae moves to the back of the car, where they’d already packed the decorations into to bring the previous day and starts hefting box after box into the building. 

“I’ll start from the top,” Jongdae suggests. “You can start at the bottom, and we’ll meet in the middle?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Junmyeon agrees. He grabs a couple bundles of tinsel and disappears out the door first, leaving Jongdae to his own devices.

They work in relative silence, chatting about one thing or another. Halfway through that Jongdae thinks that the empty room’s going to drive him insane, so he puts on playlist of Christmas songs to get them into the mood. It ends with the both of them belting five golden rings at the top of their voices, because there’s no one here to shame them, and it’s only appropriate. Jongdae’s basically an ambassador for singing The Twelve Days of Christmas as loud as one possibly can, as his brothers will attest to.

At fifteen to eight Junmyeon shoos Jongdae into the back office with the task of making hot chocolates in to-go cups for the parents and guardians that bring their kids in that day. Jongdae hums along to Last Christmas as he stirs hot water into chocolate mix and puts lids onto the cups. He puts them all into the little cart that they have and pushes that to the door. 

The kids come streaming in at five past eight, Jisung’s booming voice announcing his presence when he bursts through the door with a: “Merry Christmas, teacher Jongdae! Merry Christmas, teacher Junmyeon!”

“Merry Christmas, Jisung,” They both laugh, ruffling his hair. Junmyeon Is stationed by the door at this time, greeting everyone that brings their child in with a huge, polite smile, handing out hot chocolate like it’s his one calling in life. 

Byulyi comes in with a huge beam on her face and a slightly melted mini bar of chocolate in her hands for each of them. Jongdae coos and thanks her for the present. She insists that they both eat it where she can see them, so Jongdae tears into his bar with gusto, making her laugh and clap in glee. He breaks off a tiny little piece of his mini chocolate bar and hands it over to her, which makes her eyes go wide and mouth fall open. “Can I really, teacher Jongdae?” She asks him, voice low. 

“Of course,” Jongdae smiles, extending his hand just a little more. “Go on. You deserve something sweet, too. It’s Christmas Eve, after all.”

Byulyi gasps and nods, opening her mouth for Jongdae to plop the piece into her mouth. He laughs when she squeals immediately, heart melting like the chocolate in his hands. This is why he loved his kids; they were still so young, so innocent. 

“Merry Christmas, teacher Jongdae!” 

“Merry Christmas, teacher Junmyeon!”

Jongdae greets every single child that rushes in, from excitable Jeongin to beaming Yongsun, shy Wheein to Chan, who’s desperately trying to carry the pot of bulgogi his mother had made in his little arms. Jongdae quickly rushes to relieve him of the weight only to be told off by his student, who said that he could do it himself. Jongdae laughs, a little bemused, but lets him do as he pleases, keeping an eye on him to make sure he wouldn’t trip over anything and send the whole pot to the ground. 

Soon the tables of their little preschool are all filled up with different foods, from what Jongdae had made himself to all the potluck dishes that the kids’ parents have made. Almost everyone is crowded around the food, excited to start eating.

“Who wants to help me make hot chocolate for everyone?” Jongdae calls.

“Me!” Half of the class screeches, hands shooting up.

Jongdae laughs. “Okay, we’ll make sure everyone has a job, all right? Minho and Seungwan, you two can help me make it. Jeongin and Hyejin can help to pour, and Joohyun and Jisung can help hand the cups out to everyone. Is everyone okay with that?”

“Yes, teacher Jongdae!”

Jongdae smiles. “Good. Now everyone follow teacher Junmyeon to wash your hands to prepare for the drinks. Minho, Seungwan, follow me.”

There’s something so rewarding about watching children try their best to mix chocolate powder into hot water, Jongdae muses. Perhaps it’s watching them gain more independence, he thinks as he pours a bit more hot water into Seungwan’s pitcher at her request, making sure she’s not in range to possibly get splashed first. She gets right back into it, stirring as though her life was dependent on it. Minho is the same, the two of them so passionate over something so simple.

“Good job!” Jongdae praises, beaming at the both of them and getting huge smiles from them in return. “Go and join your classmates for now.”

They rush out to get in line to wash their hands, and Jongdae goes to retrieve the now empty cart from the front door, putting both pitchers on it and wheeling it out. As expected, everyone’s already sitting at their seats at the dining area, their labelled plastic cups on the main table at the front of the room. Junmyeon comes up to join him, calling for Hyejin and Jeongin.

They each help a child carry the pitcher, supporting most of its weight but allowing for them to angle the pitcher to let the hot chocolate flow into each cup. They’ve both got furrowed brows, Hyejin’s tongue even sticking out of her mouth with how hard she’s concentrating. It takes them some time—much longer than it would have taken had they had just done it themselves—but they go along with it. The kids like to help out, so they’ll let them do so as much as possible. 

Once they’re done, they let Joohyun and Jisung hand the cups out. They can’t read yet, the hangul on the cups still rather foreign to them, so Jongdae and Junmyeon read the names aloud to them and let them bring the cups over to their classmates. Once everyone has their cups, Jongdae and Junmyeon included, Jongdae smiles and holds his mug high above his head.

There’s a knock on the door, then, before Jongdae can even get a word out. It creaks open as Jongdae lowers his cup, ready to greet whoever walked in, but Chanyeol pokes his head in sheepishly and Jongdae just grins. 

“Mr Chanyeol!” The class greets in chorus. Of course they wouldn’t forget the man who had brought them presents. “Mr Chanyeol!”

There’s a cacophony of sound as each child tries to get their message heard over their neighbour that persists until Junmyeon takes pity on Chanyeol’s panic and asks the class to calm down. “Mr, ah, Chanyeol, was it?” Junmyeon greets. “Good morning; I’m Kim Junmyeon, the principal of this preschool. It’s my honour to—”

“Give Mr Chanyeol hot chocolate!” 

Jongdae hides his laughter behind his hand as Junmyeon blinks at the kids. They’re all pouting up at him, and Junmyeon just sighs, giving in. “Jongdae, if you would?”

“Of course,” He says, pouring a mug out for Chanyeol while Junmyeon leads Chanyeol to the front of the class. He hands the mug over to Chanyeol, who accepts it with a small smile. 

“Now,” Jongdae says, lifting his mug above his head. “Merry Christmas, everybody!”

“Merry Christmas!”

Everyone cheers and starts to drink. Jongdae sips at his slowly, making sure to keep an eye on all the kids to make sure none of them choke on their drinks in their enthusiasm. Seungmin spills a little onto his shirt and Junmyeon quickly rushes over to help clean him up.

“You guys haven’t eaten, right?” Chanyeol asks, scooting closer to Jongdae.

Jongdae shakes his head. “We’ll play a couple of games after this, then eat around 11 or so. Will you be staying for that?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol nods, his fringe flopping into his face. “I put in a couple of orders of pizza, too, so I’ll have to call them back and ask them to reschedule the delivery for then.”

“You didn’t have to go to all that trouble,” Jongdae says, gesturing at the table. “The kids all brought food with them.”

“I wanted to,” Chanyeol replies, smiling. “The kids deserve something special on Christmas Eve, don’t they? I also got a couple more gifts for them because I didn’t think the original pile that I brought in had enough for every one of them.”

Jongdae tries—and fails—not to gape at Chanyeol like a fish. “You brought even more gifts?”

Chanyeol looks a bit sheepish now, scratching the back of his neck with one hand. “Yeah. I mean, I probably went a little overboard with what I got, but I just,” He swallows here, looks solemn all of a sudden. “I want them to be happy, you know? I’ll never be able to see the way my Kyungho will look on Christmas day, opening his presents. If I can give any of these children that same happiness, then I want to do my best for them.”

Jongdae unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth and bows deeply, which only serves to fluster Chanyeol even more. “You’re too generous,” Jongdae says. “Junmyeon hyung and I, our brothers, too, we try our best for these kids, but because of the cuts that we give their parents in terms of school fees, we really can’t afford much for them in terms of presents or we’d be operating on a deficit, which we wouldn’t be able to keep up with. You probably don’t know it, but your gifts will be so very, very appreciated by them.”

“That’s all I ask,” Chanyeol says, and that’s that.

The rest of the day passes in a whirlwind of activities. Jongdae tires himself out playing catch with the kids, and even Chanyeol joins in after Moonbyul tugs him into it with more strength than Jongdae has ever seen the little girl possess. They move on from catch into hide-and-seek, then tug-o-war, and Jongdae almost busts his sides laughing at how poorly Junmyeon does at charades.

“You’re one competitive guy, aren’t you?” Jongdae grins when he sees Chanyeol whispering the answer to his team for the umpteenth time. “Can’t help but want to win?”

“What can I say?” Chanyeol asks, shrugging. “Who doesn’t like the feeling of victory?”

It makes Jongdae laugh even more, because while he likes the thrill of winning, he’s not at all competitive when it comes to games like this, and especially when it comes to games that he’s playing with his students. 

The pizza arrives 5 minutes before the games end, and by that time, the kids are already exhausted, some lying on the ground while others sit in their chairs and pant. Jongdae smiles at the sight, then claps his hands. “Everyone hungry?”

“Yes, teacher Jongdae!”

“Everyone follow me,” Junmyeon instructs. “It’s time to wash your hands.”

“Yes, teacher Junmyeon!”

Jongdae watches the kids form a line and trail after Junmyeon like little chicks. He smiles, moving towards the different pots and pans that the kids had brought from home, uncovering them to start preparing for when he has to dole out portions. 

“Anything I can do to help?” Chanyeol asks.

“Just uncover all the food,” Jongdae waves his hand. Chanyeol hums and does as he’s told. “Will you be staying for the entire time?”

Chanyeol blinks, as though it hadn’t occurred to him that he would be welcome to stay for the entire duration of the party. “I can?”

“Of course,” Jongdae says, just as the first kids come trailing back from the washroom. He tells them to take their assigned seats just as Chanyeol nods.

“I’d love to stay, then.”

Junmyeon gives the instructions for every kid to line up with their plates, and Jongdae happily starts to portion the food, putting an equal amount on every child’s plate. It’s not the grandest meal, Jongdae will concur, because he knows the families can’t afford it, but it is a feast. There’s chicken bulgogi, potatoes, pasta with pesto and another with tomato sauce, greens, a few portions of fish. No child complains, and they’re all extremely excited to eat.

Chanyeol disappears out the door at the tail end of Jongdae’s lunch lady portion of the day, and he’s about to be upset when he remembers that the other man had ordered pizza, and braces himself for the screeching that’s the pies are bound to invite.

Sure enough, when Chanyeol walks in through the door, little Jisung some manages to set his eyes on it somehow, and starts yelling at the top of his voice.

“Mr Chanyeol has pizza!”

Every child’s head turns towards the door, and Chanyeol seems to freeze in place at the sight of so many pairs of eyes on him. He’s got 5 whole pizza boxes stacked up high in his arms, and Jongdae can’t help but laugh.

“Okay, everyone, grab your food and go back to your seats. We’ll go around distributing the pizza to everyone, so stay in your chairs and eat your food, okay?” Junmyeon says, saving Chanyeol from yet another awkward situation. 

“Yes, teacher Junmyeon!”

Chanyeol walks towards them and Jongdae relieves him of the pizza boxes, putting them down onto the table. They each take one, moving around the children to give them all a slice. It doesn’t take long; there’s a lack of the usual chaos because all the kids are starstruck at the sight of pizza, so they stay quiet and wait for their slice where they would otherwise be making a huge mess.

“You’re godsent,” Junmyeon comments when they’re done and have the time to eat their own portion of the meal. “I’ve never seen the kids all go quiet so quickly.”

“The pizza’s doing the hard lifting,” Chanyeol shakes his head. “I’m just the middleman.”

Junmyeon chuckles around his bite of pizza. “Still, you’re the one who bought it for them, so you deserve some of the credit.”

Chanyeol flushes at that, just a little bit, then nods. Jongdae grins and nudges him with his elbow, to which he sends a small smile back in return. 

They’re all washing up after their meal when someone knocks on the door and the head of someone in a bear suit peeks in. Jongdae blinks up at the stranger, but when they start speaking, he recognises the voice as Jongin’s and relaxes.

“Hello, everyone!” Jongin says, coming into the room to many oohs and ahhs. “I’m Gomnini! It’s nice to meet you all!”

Jongdae tells all the kids to move their toys away from the main room and settle themselves down for Gomnini’s show. No one really questions it, too enamoured by the huge bear mascot.

“Did you hire a mascot?” Chanyeol whispers to him from where they sit in the back of the room. Junmyeon had disappeared into the office to deal with some administrative matters, so it’s just the two of them at the back.

“No,” Jongdae whispers back. “That’s my younger brother, Jongin. He comes around to help us out sometimes, but he doesn’t have much time usually because he teaches at a dance studio. He came in today because it’s a special day, and he loves doing something special for the children.”

Chanyeol hums, nodding. “Junmyeon is okay with this?”

Jongdae laughs softly. “Junmyeon’s our brother, too,” Jongdae informs, to Chanyeol’s surprise, if his eyes widening is any indication. “There’s four of us; Junmyeon opened this preschool because he wanted to do something to help the community with the inheritance our parents left for us, and I decided to work here because I already had my degree. It’s easier, you know, with family.”

“That’s very noble of him,” Chanyeol remarks. “And for yourself, as well. Didn’t you say you wanted to pursue music?”

“I do songwriting on the side,” Jongdae says, shrugging. “I’m still starting out, so it’s not very lucrative. Plus, I’m so attached to all the kids now, it just wouldn’t feel right leaving them to someone else.”

“You care for them a lot.”

Jongdae smiles as he looks at the kids cheering for Gomnini, who bids them all stand up and follow a simple dance sequence with him. “I do.”

They continue watching the kids dance in silence, smiling softly. They’re all still so young, undeserving of the hardships that they experience back home. It makes Jongdae wonder, sometimes, where justice is in this world. 

Jongin brings the dance session to a pause by leading the children into a stretching routine to let them cool down from all their hopping and dancing. Jongdae stands up and tugs Chanyeol gently up with him. “I’m going to go get the presents ready,” He whispers.

“Okay,” Chanyeol whispers back. “I’ll go get the rest from my car.”

Jongdae sends him a nod and a smile, then disappears back into the office with Junmyeon. He piles the gifts, some given so generously by Chanyeol and others prepared by his brothers and himself, into Junmyeon’s arms and grabs the rest.

Jongin’s just done arranging the kids into sitting in rows when they exit the office, and the sight of prettily wrapped gifts has them all cheering in happiness. Jongdae presses his index finger to his lips, and all the children follow him, quieting down. Jongdae smiles in pride; it gives them time to prepare to hand the gifts out, Jongin to remove the head of his mascot costume, hair all sweaty, and Chanyeol to walk back into the building with his arms laden with more presents.

Junmyeon hands Jongin a bottle of water, which he gulps down. Chanyeol puts his extra gifts on the table, and Jongdae can see that even though all the kids are sitting quietly in their assigned spots, they’re all pretty much vibrating in excitement. 

“Who’s ready for presents?” Junmyeon asks, bless his soul.

“Me!”

“I am!”

“Me, me!”

Jongdae laughs at the chorus and how almost every child is now rubbing their palms together, eager to get to the presents but still being good because they’re afraid of being given coal.

“Okay, everybody make a line in your usual positions! We’ll be giving out the presents randomly so it’s fair to everybody, okay?”

“Yes, teacher Junmyeon!”

There’s the usual ordered chaos of every kid trying to get to their assigned spot in the line. Jongdae just watches on fondly, stepping forward only when it seems like a fight might break out. “Hey, hey,” Jongdae scolds gently. “Byulyi, if you pull on Sooyoung’s hair like that, all you’ll receive on Christmas day will be coal. It’s not good to be mean, understand?”

“Yes, teacher Jongdae,” Byulyi looks contrite. “I’m sorry, Sooyoung. I won’t do that again.”

Something like pride blooms in Jongdae’s chest at the fact that he didn’t have to prompt Byulyi for her to apologise.

“I forgive you, Byulyi,” Sooyoung chirps happily. “Let’s open our new presents together after this!”

“Okay!”

Jongdae pats them both on the head before heading back to Junmyeon. “Is everybody ready?”

“Yes, teacher Junmyeon!”

“Okay, we’ll be giving the presents out now. Remember to go back to your spot and sit down while you wait for everyone to get their presents, okay?”

“Yes, teacher Junmyeon!”

The gift giving quickly commences, and Jongdae hands each present out with a hug and a ruffle of hair. Beside him, Junmyeon is booping every child on the nose with his index finger, making them giggle. Jongin makes every child do a little twirl before he hands them their present, laughing. Jongdae turns to Chanyeol, who’s standing awkwardly beside him. “Hey,” He says, handing Chanyeol a beautifully wrapped gift. “You made this possible, Chanyeol, you should give some of them out, too.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol says, looking down at the present in his arms, as though the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Can I?”

“Don’t be silly,” Jongdae replies. “This wouldn't have happened without your generosity. Go on!”

That, at the very least, makes Chanyeol brighten up a little. Jongdae smiles as continues to give the presents out, and with four of them doing the job, it doesn’t take long before their class of 30 or so all have a present in their arms. 

“Did everybody get one?” 

“Yes, teacher Jongdae!”

“That’s good,” Jongdae says, then claps his hands. “Everyone, today’s Christmas party is now over, but let’s all take some time to thank Mr Chanyeol, without who this wouldn’t have been possible. Most of the presents that you have were bought by him, so what should you all say?”

“Thank you, Mr Chanyeol!”

Jongdae turns to look at Chanyeol, who’s got the brightest smile on his face that he’s seen since they first met a week ago. He smiles, too, hopes that that smile will remain on Chanyeol’s face for as long as possible.

Jongdae hadn’t expected to, really, but he finds himself staying in contact with Chanyeol even after the Christmas party. At first it was to tell him about the ‘thank you’ cards that most of his kids had made over the holidays—the ones that hadn’t thought of it had been horrified and spent the entire first day of class after the holidays perfecting their own—and wanted to give to him. He had turned up, all smiles and laughter, when he’d been bombarded with child after child wanting to sit on his lap and have him read their almost illegible cards.

The second, admittedly, is a complete coincidence. Jongdae is just ordering coffee at his usual place on a Saturday like any other, ready to settle into his favourite seat to begin writing a new set of lyrics when the barista calls out: “Mocha frappe for Chanyeol!”

Jongdae spins around from where he’s waiting for his own drink to see Chanyeol lumber over from where he was standing. He’s having an internal debate with himself as to whether or not he should get Chanyeol’s attention—would it be weird? Are they considered friends?—when the barista calls his own name. “Iced americano for Jongdae!”

“Hey,” Chanyeol greets first, saving Jongdae from his overthinking. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Hello,” Jongdae returns the greeting. “I come here to work on my lyrics on the weekends, mostly.” He gestures to his notepad on the table. “Do you often come, too?”

Chanyeol shakes his head. “I just found this place two days ago. I didn’t want to stay at home, so I took a walk around.”

Jongdae makes a knowing sound; he forgets, sometimes, that despite his cheerful disposition back during the Christmas party, Chanyeol is actually someone who carries a lot of grief within him. “If you’re free, we could have a chat?” Jongdae suggests. “I’m not too busy.”

“You sure?” Chanyeol asks. “You said you were working on your lyrics.”

Jongdae laughs. “Why do you always ask me if I’m sure when I tell you something?” He teases, but smiles softly when Chanyeol pouts. “Yes, I’m sure. It’d be my honour.”

Chanyeol gives in, then, and Jongdae leads the way back to his seat. He moves his bag and settles in on the ground so that Chanyeol can take the recently vacated chair. “I hope you’ve been well,” Jongdae starts off with a hesitant smile. “I haven’t seen you since you came in to take the thank you cards.”

Chanyeol sips at his drink, not saying anything for a moment. Jongdae doesn’t know if he’s said the wrong thing; he’s not the best at comforting words, really. He’s much more of a cuddler, letting someone cling to him and returning warm hugs as and when needed. As it is, since he doesn’t know Chanyeol that well, it wouldn’t exactly be appropriate.

“I’m as well as can be,” Chanyeol replies, voice hoarse. “The funeral proceedings ended last weekend, so I’ve just—” He shrugs, here, voice breaking slightly. “I don’t like being at home. It’s too big, too empty. It’s lonely.”

“I’m sorry,” Jongdae says, looking down at his cup. “I didn’t mean to bring up—any bad memories for you, of course they are.”

Chanyeol shakes his head. “It’s not easy, but getting out of the house makes it hurt less, if just a little.” He chuckles, humourlessly. “I’m sorry for just dumping all of that on you.”

“Don’t be,” Jongdae says. He reaches out tentatively with one hand to take Chanyeol’s own. “I was the one who asked.”

“Kyungsoo said I shouldn’t keep talking about it,” Chanyeol confesses. “Kyungsoo, he’s my best friend, and my therapist. That I should remember them for the happiness that they brought into my life, but not keep bringing them up—their death, at least—whenever someone so much as talks to me. I guess I’ve been doing a lot of that.” He takes a deep breath and sends Jongdae a teary-eyed smile that about breaks his heart. “I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t keep this up.”

“Hey,” Jongdae says, squeezing his hand. “It’s okay, you know. This is your wife and child you’re talking about. Of course you would mourn them.”

“I did. Am mourning them,” Chanyeol shakes his head. “But they wouldn’t—want me to be like this, forever harping on about their death.”

Jongdae stays silent for a moment, then: “How about this,” He suggests. “Let’s get to know each other, as friends. Then, in future, if you decide that I’m someone you wouldn’t mind keeping around, or when you’re more comfortable with it, you can tell me about them. Only if you’re ready, of course. That way, you’re not forgetting them, but you’re also taking your friend’s advice.”

Chanyeol looks up at him, and there’s something like gratitude, something like hope, shining within them. He breaks out into another smile, but it’s less sad, just a little brighter. It makes Jongdae so, so glad that he’s managed to cheer Chanyeol up, even if just a bit. It takes him some time to collect himself, but when he finally does, it’s to Chanyeol nodding. “Yeah,” Chanyeol says. “I’d like that.”

Jongdae squeezes his hand one last time before letting go. “So,” He prompts. “You already know where and what I do for work. What about you?”

“I’m an independent music producer,” Chanyeol says. “Sometimes I compose songs when a company asks for them, but usually I send a couple of different clients samples that I have, and anyone interested will request for the rights to have their entertainers sing it.”

“Oh, wow!” Jongdae’s eyes widen. “Are there any songs that you’ve helped write?”

“Mm,” Chanyeol thinks about it. “I don’t know how often you keep up with idols, but I’ve written a couple of tracks for a couple of groups. Red Flavour, by Red Velvet, Colourful by SHINee, Firetruck by NCT 127.”

Jongdae nods along. “I haven’t heard of all of them, but every kid in class was singing Red Flavour when it first came out! I could never get them to stop.”

Chanyeol chuckles. “Well, it is a very good song.”

“You’re just saying that because you wrote it,” Jongdae retorts. “You’re basically obligated to say that it’s good.”

“Hey, if I got your entire class of kids unable to stop singing it, you’ve got to admit that it’s got merits,” Chanyeol preens. “Plus, it’s pretty catchy, if I do say so myself.”

Jongdae has to admit that it’s pretty catchy, if the way it got stuck in his head for a whole two weeks is testament to anything. “All right, I’ll give you that.”

The grin that Chanyeol sends him is blinding, and Jongdae has to stop his heart from seizing in his chest. It’s entirely inappropriate for him to develop a crush on Chanyeol, no matter how charismatic he is. “Maybe we could write a song together in future,” He teases. “You could write the song, and I’ll take care of the lyrics.”

“Oh?” Chanyeol raises his eyebrows and waggles them. “Why should I collaborate with you? What credentials do you bring to the table?”

Jongdae blinks, then shrugs a little sheepishly. “Admittedly, not a lot. I’m just working with a very small studio as a freelancer, and so far only a couple of my verses have been selected, so I don’t get full credit.”

“That’s still really good,” Chanyeol says earnestly. “It’s not easy to break into the industry, even worse if you don’t have the right connections. Everything is about knowing the right people these days; it’s more important than talent, sometimes.” It’s clear from the way Chanyeol says it that he doesn’t agree with the current state of affairs. It’s very—Chanyeol, for lack of a better term. He must put so much work into his craft. 

Jongdae smiles, touched by his words. He’s never really thought of giving up, not really, but sometimes it’s quite difficult not seeing any results despite the effort that he puts into his lyrics. “Thank you, Chanyeol,” He says. “That means a lot to me.”

“I’m just stating the truth,” Chanyeol huffs, looking very much like a child with his cheeks puffed out. It’s definitely not a look that should be cute on a grown man but definitely is. Jongdae has to tell his brain to shut up for a moment or he’d lose his bearings entirely. He laughs despite himself, and Chanyeol probably thinks he’s laughing at him, which just makes him pout even more.

Jongdae shakes his head. “Well, Mr Popular Songwriter,” He teases. “Since you’ve worked on so many songs, could you maybe look at some of my lyrics?”

Chanyeol’s eyes widen almost comically. “Could I? You’d let me?”

“You’ve got more experience in this field than I do,” Jongdae admits. “It would actually mean a lot if I could get some advice from you.”

“Wow,” Chanyeol says. “I mean, of course I’ll look over them for you, I mean, it’s just that lyrics are usually so personal. You’re really okay with letting me read them?”

Jongdae snorts, pushing his notepad across the table towards Chanyeol. “At this point I’m convinced that you’re just stalling because you don’t want to read them.”

“Of course not!” Chanyeol replies hotly, grabbing the notepad and holding it tightly to his chest like it’s his treasure instead of, well, Jongdae’s treasure. While most of the lyrics he’s written down he could remember, he would probably break down in tears if he were to ever lose his precious notepad. “I’ll read it!”

Chanyeol sulks at him for just a second more before Jongdae gestures towards it, and he eagerly opens the cover of the notepad. Jongdae sips on his americano while Chanyeol flips through his notepad. He’s making strange little noises as he does, and it’s incredibly endearing. Jongdae tells his heart to stop stuttering, because he knows that he’ll just be setting himself up for heartbreak, and that’s definitely not ideal.

“These are really good,” Chanyeol pipes up after about 5 minutes of silence. “There’s a couple of verses that are a bit rough, but it’ll definitely get better once you go over them a couple of times.” He opens the notepad to one of the songs that Jongdae had worked his hardest on. Flower, reads the top of the page, and Jongdae hopes that what Chanyeol is about to say about this song in particular is good. He’s usually not that insecure about his work, but Flower in particular is his baby, and he’s put hours upon hours into perfecting it.

“I really like this one!” Chanyeol gushes, and Jongdae breathes a sigh of relief. “It’s really calming, and hopeful at the same time.” There’s a hint of sadness on his face that Jongdae finds himself wanting desperately to erase. “This one part, especially,” He says, pointing it out. “Tears from countless days, became my support when I was thirsty. Even sadness becomes a memory in the end, brightly in my heart.”

Jongdae swallows, unsure of what to say, but he finds that he doesn’t have to, because Chanyeol continues. “It’s just. It’s a really good set of lyrics. I don’t know what kind of melody will pair with it, but I find my fingers are itching to come up with one for you right now,” He laughs a little sheepishly. “Ah, I hope I’m not overstepping my boundaries or anything. It’s just that it’s really such a good set of lyrics that I can’t help myself.”

“It’s high praise more than anything, Chanyeol,” Jongdae says, shaking his head. “I’m glad that you like it; it’s actually my favourite song out of everything that I’ve written.”

“It’s beautiful,” Chanyeol finishes cleanly, making Jongdae laugh. “It really is!”

“Thank you, Chanyeol,” Jongdae says, genuinely grateful. “I know everyone likes to hear good things about their work, but it just—it means a lot, especially coming from you. Thank you for looking over my lyrics.”

“Thank you, Jongdae,” Chanyeol shakes his head. “For letting me.”

“I’m fucked, Baekhyun.”

“It’s good to see that you’re self-aware.”

Jongdae gets up from his prone position on the couch to glare at Baekhyun. “Shouldn’t you be a little more sympathetic as my best friend?”

Baekhyun sighs, waving his slice of pizza at Jongdae. “I’m not particularly inclined to when you know very well that liking the guy who just lost his wife and child is a bad idea.”

“I didn’t choose to grow this giant crush on him,” Jongdae says, sulking even as he steals a slice of Baekhyun’s pizza. “It’s just that he’s really nice, he cares so much for the kids—do you know that he’s come by 3 more times since the Christmas party, even though he doesn’t have to?—and it doesn’t hurt that he’s tall and has the voice of a phone sex operator—”

“Did I really need to know that?”

“—which makes him exactly my type, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun sighs again, and Jongdae sighs along with him. 

It’s been six months since Jongdae and Chanyeol first met, that week before Christmas. Since then Chanyeol has come to visit the kids when he has the time, bringing with him small toys to add to the preschool’s collection, or little packs of snacks that they get to take home with them. Outside of that, they’ve become extremely fast friends, their mutual love for music blossoming into a friendship that leads to them going out for dinner once every week if they can make it. Sometimes they head to the indie music store in town, others to the little cafe nearby if there’s an open mic. 

They both know that this is only going to end badly for Jongdae, but they also know that Jongdae falls in love too hard and too fast, as evidenced by multiple broken hearts from their days at university together. 

“I feel for him,” Jongdae admits. “I do. It must be so hard for him to have to deal with that. He sounded like he was so excited for the festive season, Baekhyun. And then he lost two of the most important people to him in the split second it took him to receive a phone call.”

“But you still like him,” Baekhyun finishes for him. It doesn’t have to be said, but actually hearing it out loud is heart wrenching.

“I do,” Jongdae says sadly. “Sometimes, when he thinks I’m not watching, he gets this really sad look on his face. I want to help him, want to make him smile again. I just—I just don’t know how, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun scoots closer, coaxing Jongdae to lean into him. It’s times like this where he’s so grateful for his best friend. Baekhyun may be a little shit sometimes, but he knows when and how to give comfort. “I know it’s hard, Dajung,” Jongdae smiles at the affectionate nickname. “You’ve got such a soft heart, and you love so easily. Maybe in time he’ll be able to open his heart to love again, but it’s not something that he can be rushed into.”

“I know,” Jongdae replies forlornly. “Sometimes I find myself wishing I could’ve met him sooner, but then—I feel like such a horrible person for thinking like that, because he loves his wife so much. Hell, they got married, started a family together, and I’m here wishing they wouldn’t have met because I’ve got a crush on him,” Jongdae’s tearing up at this point, silent tears dripping down his cheeks. He hates being like this, but every time he even thinks about Chanyeol his heart beats a little faster.

Baekhyun presses a kiss to his temple. “You’re only human, you know?” Baekhyun comforts him. “That you even think about being a bad person for having those thoughts means you’re not all that bad. You’re still our soft-hearted little Dajung. You’ll pull through this, I know you will.”

“Thank you, Baekhyunnie,” Jongdae says, burrowing just a little closer to Baekhyun. It’s quiet for a couple of moments while they both take time to process everything, then: “Did you kiss my head with your greasy lips?”

“Oh, well, I was hoping you wouldn’t notice—”

“Byun Baekhyun!”

It’s one year into Jongdae’s friendship with Chanyeol that he screws up.

“Chanyeol!” Jongdae calls. They’re meeting at Hongdae to look at the Christmas lights that have been put up. Jongdae knows that this time of year isn’t Chanyeol’s favourite, so he’s taken it upon himself to make sure Chanyeol gets out of the house once in a while. As it is, Chanyeol’s so tall that he’s easy to spot amongst the huge crowd. “Over here!”

Chanyeol makes his way towards him once he’s managed to locate the source of the voice. He looks a little paler, a little more morose than usual, but that’s to be expected. “Hey,” Jongdae greets once Chanyeol’s close enough to hear him without having to yell.

“Hello,” Chanyeol replies. “It’s freezing out. Where are we going?”

“There’s this new cafe that’s just opened,” Jongdae says, looping one arm through Chanyeol’s and dragging him through the throng of people. “They serve these huge slices of toast with condensed milk and whipped cream. Jongin says it’s amazing, so I’m taking you to go try it. Plus, they have cinnamon lattes.”

Chanyeol smiles; it’s a small one, but it’s there, and Jongdae will take whatever he can get. “That sounds delicious.”

“I sure hope so,” Jongdae sniffs, sticking his nose high up in the air. “I even made reservations for us, so they’d better deliver.”

The walk to the cafe isn’t that long, and Jongdae finds himself chattering about everything from the weather—really, Jongdae?—to how pretty the Christmas lights are, even though they haven’t been turned on yet. They get to the cafe in record time, and Jongdae gives his name to the pretty waitress.

Jongdae pours through the menu, practically salivating from all the items. He decides on the cafe’s classic toast set that comes with an iced americano, then waits until Chanyeol is done making his own decision. “Let me guess,” Chanyeol says, flipping through the menu. “You’re getting this one.” He holds the menu up, pointing at the classic set: exactly what Jongdae had decided on. 

“Huh,” Jongdae blinks. “How did you know?”

“The others come with lattes and cappuccinos,” Chanyeol explains. “This is the only one that comes with an iced americano; of course you’d pick this one.”

“Oh. Am I that predictable?”

Chanyeol shakes his head. “It’s just something I’ve noticed about you, I guess. No matter how low the temperature is outside, you always get an iced americano for your choice of drink. It’s like you don’t care about the cold as long as it comes with caffeine.”

Jongdae pouts, but says nothing because he knows that Chanyeol’s right. His heart chooses this time to helpfully supply that Chanyeol pays enough attention to his choices to notice something as small as that; his mind, ever logical, tells his heart to shut up.

Chanyeol’s managed to catch the attention of the cafe’s wait staff and place their orders by the time Jongdae is done with his internal strife. “Which one did you get?” He asks, having missed the conversation entirely.

“Oh,” Chanyeol teases, glint in his eyes wicked. “Not paying attention, I see? Is that how you’re going to do this today, Kim Jongdae? I’m hurt.”

“Shut up,” Jongdae whines. “I was just spacing out for a moment. You know I wouldn’t invite you out and then leave you hanging.”

Chanyeol’s grin softens. “Yeah, I do,” He confesses, shrugging. “I guess I just like teasing you. It’s funny, seeing the look on your face.”

“You’re a menace,” Jongdae sticks his tongue out. Thankfully, the wait staff comes with their drinks, successfully ensuring that Jongdae doesn’t descend further into childishness. Chanyeol looks pretty pleased with himself, regardless, and Jongdae preens internally. If Chanyeol’s having a good time, then that’s all that matters.

The food comes quickly, piping hot and sticky. Jongdae’s eyes widen at the sight, and he’s pretty sure that Chanyeol has the same reaction. They both quickly snap pictures of their dishes—Chanyeol’s chosen a rather heaping portion of chocolate flavoured toast with lots of whipped cream and an add-on of a dollop of vanilla ice cream—before beginning to devour them.

“Mm,” Jongdae moans, closing his eyes as he savours the flavour of thick, warm toast mixed with cold, sweet whipped cream. “I’m so glad that Jongin told me about this place. This is so, so good.”

Chanyeol’s nodding eagerly at him from the other side of the table. “It really is,” He tries to say around a mouthful of toast, so it comes out more like iffillyfis than anything else. Jongdae giggles, hiding his laughter behind his hand. 

“Finish chewing before you talk, silly.”

Chanyeol swallows dutifully before trying again. “It’s really good,” He says. “I’m going to have to take Yoora here on her day off. She’d absolutely love this.”

Jongdae’s never met Yoora—Chanyeol’s supposed absolute sweetheart of an elder sister—but from the many pictures of food that he’s seen posted on her instagram account, Jongdae can deduce that she really loves cafe hopping.

“I’m glad,” Jongdae beams, slicing into his toast.

They spend the rest of their time chatting over thick slices of toast and sips of coffee. Chanyeol’s set had come with a chocolate-coffee latte, of all things, and Jongdae had taken a sip much to his disgust. Chanyeol had just laughed at him, even as Jongdae gulped mouthful after mouthful of his americano to get rid of the strange aftertaste. Jongdae tells Chanyeol about all the antics that his kids have gotten up to recently, especially about how Jisung had tried to pour glue into his classmates’ shoes only to get caught by Yerim and yelled at. Chanyeol, in turn, tells him about how his studio work has been going, and how he’s going to have another song used as a title track by an idol group. Jongdae promises to buy the album, just for him, to which Chanyeol pretends to swoon and fan himself over.

It’s honestly tiny things like this that have Jongdae’s heart racing more than anything. Just the way that Chanyeol notices little things and the way he’s willing to play along with Jongdae and his antics more often than not. It’s not doing his heart any favours, but there’s not much that he can do about that except tell himself to ignore it.

They take a walk along the cold streets of Hongdae to give the toast time to digest a little. It’s already dark by this time, winter making the sun set much, much earlier than usual. The lights have been switched on, too, pretty fairy lights lining restaurants along the streets and others lining the trees. Some are shaped like snowflakes, others like Christmas tree ornaments. Christmas songs are playing from almost every restaurant, and it’s extremely festive.

They walk silently, a contrast to their walk from the subway station to the cafe earlier in the day, but it’s comfortable, not at all tense. Sometimes they’ll see something interesting and point it out to the other, but otherwise there’s not much for conversation. Despite this, they keep walking, content with each other’s company, to the end of the street.

They decide to turn back unanimously, and by this time Chanyeol decides that it’s time for some street food. Jongdae, of course, ever eager to eat, doesn’t refuse him. They find a little tented truck near the GS25, run by an elderly woman with more spirit than the both of them can be bothered to scourge up from their reserves, considering the temperature and darkness making it feel later than it really is. Chanyeol orders more food than one would expect two men who had just had huge slices of toast to be able to stomach: two servings of spicy rice cakes, two skewers of soddeok, two skewers of fish cakes, some deep fried shrimp and a whole bag of sundae. They argue over who gets to pay, but Jongdae relents when Chanyeol points out that he had paid for their meal at the cafe earlier.

They find a relatively quieter part of the street to sit down on a bench and dig into their snacks, if one could call it that. They somehow manage to snag an entire bench for themselves, which gives them the space to put out the spicy rice cakes—Jongdae’s long since learned that Chanyeol likes to deep his fried foods into spicy rice cake sauce. 

It’s wonderful, like this. It’s freezing, but Jongdae has piping hot soup in a little paper cup in his hands, courtesy of the elderly lady from before, and a bunch of food that will warm him up. He gets to spend time with Chanyeol, too, and that’s definitely an added bonus. 

They attack the food with relish, and Jongdae stabs a piece of sundae with his toothpick, dipping it in salt and bringing it up to Chanyeol’s lips teasingly. “Say ‘ah’, Chanyeol,” He grins, then laughs when Chanyeol takes him up on it and takes the bite immediately.

He at least waits till he’s done chewing this time to tell Jongdae that it’s good and that he should have a piece himself, which Jongdae does happily enough. He’s never one to turn down food, after all. 

It dawns upon him, then, when he looks up and all he sees are couples: this is romantic. They’re under the Christmas lights, sharing a meal, and just talking and laughing with each other. Chanyeol’s got sauce smeared on his face, but he’s never looked more beautiful. He reaches out, almost unconsciously, to wipe it away for him, and they both freeze.

“Chanyeol, I—” Jongdae begins. He looks at Chanyeol’s face, then glances down at his lips. Time seems to move slowly, like he’s underwater and nothing around him feels real. He leans forward, heart thumping wildly.

Chanyeol pulls back sharply, and that’s all it takes to yank Jongdae out of his reverie. He looks up at Chanyeol, whose face is a contorted twist between anger and grief, having jumped up onto his feet.

“Chanyeol,” Jongdae gasps. “I—”

“I lost my wife and child a year ago, Kim Jongdae,” Chanyeol spits, and Jongdae flinches back, like he’s been attacked physically. “A year . Maybe it seems like a short time to you, but I’ve barely had time to mourn them. Hell, I just visited their graves last week.”

Jongdae stands up, shaking his head. “I know! I know that, and I’m really sorry! I don’t know what got over me, Chanyeol, I’m sorry.”

But Chanyeol’s fuming, fire in his eyes like Jongdae’s never seen before. He doesn’t seem interested in what Jongdae has to say, plowing on despite Jongdae’s apologies. “God, I really thought that you’d understand. I thought you were my friend.”

“I am your friend!” 

“Really?” Chanyeol sneers. “I don’t think friends try to seduce each other when one of them was widowed a year ago.”

Jongdae stares at Chanyeol helplessly. “Chanyeol, please, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Chanyeol only laughs mirthlessly, eyes hard and posture rigid. He doesn’t even seem like the same person that had teasingly taken food from Jongdae’s hand mere minutes ago. Jongdae can feel the warmth bleed out of him all at once: having Chanyeol mad at him is one thing, having him find out about Jongdae’s feelings and then being so ruthlessly rejected is another. He doesn’t want to lose Chanyeol; he doesn’t care if Chanyeol never returns his feelings when he treasures their friendship and camaraderie above all else.

“Bye, Jongdae,” Chanyeol scoffs, shaking his head as he walks away.

“Chanyeol, wait, please let me explain!” 

Jongdae makes to follow him, but Chanyeol spins around, rage so apparent in his eyes and poison so vicious in his voice when he hisses, “Leave me alone, Kim Jongdae,” that Jongdae stops right in his tracks, eyes wide and the fist around his heart squeezing so tightly he thinks it might crush it.

Chanyeol quickly leaves, long strides taking him further and further away from Jongdae until he disappears into the distance. Jongdae looks at their half-eaten food, and finds that he’s lost all his appetite. Slowly, mechnically, he goes through the motions of packing everything up to toss away.

He wonders silently if the night had always been this cold.

Jongdae tells himself that it’ll be okay. Once he apologises to Chanyeol, everything will be alright, won’t it? When he gets back home, he takes a long, hot shower and mulls over all that’s happened. Chanyeol now knew of Jongdae’s feelings for him, and had rejected him. He could work with that, Jongdae thinks; he’s always known that his feelings for Chanyeol would probably never amount to anything. It’s the fact that Chanyeol may never want his friendship again that’s upsetting.

He gives himself some time under the spray of hot water. It’s comforting, being here, with nothing but the sound of water splashing around him. There’s no heartache, no one to judge him. When he finally makes it out of the shower, he sits on his bed and looks forlornly at his phone. There’s nothing on it, no messages or notifications.

Chanyeol, I’m sorry. <

I know that I shouldn’t have done what I did, and I really didn’t mean to. <

Please give me a chance to explain. <

He falls back onto his bed after sending the messages. He doesn’t know if Chanyeol will reply tonight, if at all. Thinking back on the way Chanyeol had looked when he’d left, how he hadn’t even let Jongdae explain himself, makes him unusually pessimistic. And even if Chanyeol agreed to let him explain, who’s to say that he would still feel comfortable being friends?

What would you do if I told you I fucked up really badly? <

Jongdae opens up his messages to Baekhyun. If no one else, he knows his best friend will listen to him, even if he would tell him that he told him so. The reply is almost instantaneous. Jongdae smiles despite everything; Baekhyun could always be counted on to be stuck to his phone 24 hours a day, and no matter how much Jongdae makes fun of him for it, he’ll always be grateful when Baekhyun comes to his aid at times like this.

> depends

> what did you get yourself into this time

Let’s just say that you’ll be gloating when you hear about it. <

> oh god is this about that chanyeol guy

I tried to kiss him today. <

I don’t know what came over me, Baekhyun. <

He saw, of course. Then freaked. <

Wouldn’t even let me explain, then left. <

I don’t even know if we’re friends any more. <

Baekhyun doesn’t reply for a couple of minutes, which is both surprising and worrying in its own right. Jongdae sighs, then starts to reply to a couple of messages that his brothers had left: Junmyeon’s about the school and the maintenance it needed, Jongin’s a video of a puppy swimming and Minseok’s about the dinner they had with all four brothers every month.

The front door to his house slams open, making Jongdae jump out of his skin. He’s glad that all his brothers are out for the night, since Minseok would have skinned Baekhyun alive for barging in unannounced—and so loudly —at such a late hour. Baekhyun’s standing there, all bundled up. His best friend has a six-pack of Cass in one hand and a bag with iconic green bottles of soju in the other. “I’m going to kick his ass,” Baekhyun declares, like he doesn’t look like a very harmless, very adorable corgi puppy with a scarf covering all the way up to his chin. “But first, we’re going to drink all of this, and you’re going to tell me what happened.”

Jongdae smiles, unable to contain himself, then surges forward to wrap his arms around Baekhyun. Baekhyun stumbles back, the sudden weight catching him off guard, but manages to stabilize himself, thankfully saving all the soju bottles from being smashed to smithereens. “I love you,” Jongdae mumbles, nuzzling his cheek into Baekhyun’s. “Thank you.”

“I’m your best friend,” Baekhyun says, like that explains everything. It does, really. Jongdae can always, always count on Baekhyun, no matter what he needs. “Now let me in. It’s really cold out here.”

Jongdae relieves Baekhyun of his purchases, dumping them unceremoniously on the table. Baekhyun shucks his coat, revealing the pyjamas that he’s wearing underneath. Jongdae laughs at him, making Baekhyun throw a glove at him. “Stop laughing, you ungrateful louse!” He scolds. “I came all the way in the cold for you when I was already warm and tucked in bed. And to think,” He sniffs haughtily. “I even ordered chicken on the way here.”

Jongdae softens at that, tugging Baekhyun down and close until they’re cuddling on the couch. “I know,” He admits. “You always do so much for me. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you know it,” Baekhyun huffs, but drops the act quickly. “Now what happened tonight, hm?”

Jongdae sighs, leaning forward to grab two cans of beer and crack them open. “I just. We went out to try that cafe that’s got really great toast. The one that Jongin recommended to me. Then we just took a stroll around Hongdae, and got street food, then sat down and ate it. And then I just—I don’t know what came over me, Baekhyun. I just looked up and saw all these couples around us, and there were all the Christmas lights, and it just made me want to kiss him so badly.”

Baekhyun stays silent, even if he’s vibrating in his seat like he’s about to jump up and out the door to kick Chanyeol in the face. Jongdae appreciates his restraint. Well, that, and the fact that Baekhyun has absolutely no clue where Chanyeol lives.

“So I leaned forward, and he caught on to what I was doing, and got mad. He’s got the right to get mad, I know that. Then he got up and stormed away from me, and he wouldn’t let me explain.” Jongdae’s voice has dropped to a whisper at this point. “He said—said friends wouldn’t do what I did, said friends wouldn’t seduce the other when they were widowed a year ago.” He swallows. “I hadn’t even thought of that, all I wanted to do was to—stay with him, all I could think of was that I wanted to make him smile.”

“Oh, Jongdae,” Baekhyun sighs, pulling him into his arms and holding on tightly. “You’re both upset right now, and it’s understandable. I’m sure he said a lot of things that he didn’t mean, and once he come to his senses he’ll see how stupid he was being. You’re such a good friend, Jongdae, there’s no reason that anyone would want to cut ties with you.”

“I can only hope, I guess,” Jongdae says, voice hoarse. “I’ve always known that it’s fruitless to like him, and I’ve never had any expectations. I just—don’t want to lose a friend over something like this, you know?”

Baekhyun presses a kiss to his forehead. “If he dumps you, then he was never a good friend in the first place and doesn’t deserve you, you hear me?” Baekhyun says sternly. “It’s not your fault; you tried to apologise and he refused to hear it, so that’s all on him.”

Jongdae knows this, knows that the ball is in Chanyeol’s court right now and it’s up to him to decide if he wants to reconcile with Jongdae or not. It’s still nice to hear someone say it, though, and even nicer when it comes from one of the people he loves and trusts the most in his life. “Okay,” He nods. “Okay.”

“Good,” Baekhyun hums, pleased. The doorbell rings, then, and Jongdae staggers to his feet, credit card in hand to pay for the chicken. “Now come,” He says pompously when Jongdae returns with the box in hand. “We feast.”

Jongdae giggles. He’s so, so grateful for Baekhyun. Placing the box of chicken down on the table next to the beer and soju, the latter of which Baekhyun cracks one open and disappears into Jongdae’s kitchen to grab the shot glasses for, he does exactly as his best friend commands.

Chanyeol, please. <

> Error 23: SMS Not Delivered - Sender blocked by intended recipient.

One week after the Disastrous Chanyeol Incident, as Baekhyun so aptly named it, Jongdae has all but given up on reconciling with Chanyeol. His heart had sunk the moment he received the notification that he’d been blocked from sending Chanyeol messages. If Chanyeol didn’t even want to talk to him, then there was no way that Jongdae was ever going to be able to explain.

He tries to tell himself that Chanyeol isn’t worth it, just like Baekhyun had said, but he can’t help but miss Chanyeol. Their casual, easy friendship, the way Chanyeol laughed at his antics and was never afraid to start some of his own. They had a code, like they’d been friends for years instead of just one. It’s different from what he has with Baekhyun—that complete each other’s sentences, soulmate-like bond—but it’s one he cherishes nonetheless. 

It’s his turn to cook dinner that night, so he heads over to the supermarket with a list of ingredients in hand. He’s well versed in this, so he speeds through the aisles, getting all that he needs pretty quickly. He’s only stopped in front of the cereal aisle to ponder if he should get Jongin a box of his favourite cereal, or if the sugar will only ruin the strict diet his younger brother has put himself on for the next couple of weeks.

“—looks so sad when we ask about you!”

That’s Yongsun’s voice, Jongdae thinks, so used to picking out his students by ear alone. He’s about to turn the corner to greet her when another distinctly familiar voice speaks, causing him to stiffen up.

“Have you all missed me?”

“Of course, Mr Chanyeol!” Yongsun says. “We all have! But whenever we ask teacher Jongdae when you’re coming back he just looks all sad and shakes his head!”

Jongdae pauses, wondering if he’s been so transparent with his emotions that even his students have managed to pick up on it. He scolds himself, then. Just because they’re children didn’t mean that they weren’t observant, and his kids were some of the smartest he knew.

“I’m sorry,” Chanyeol replies. “Teacher Jongdae and I, we’re not—well.”

“Did teacher Jongdae steal your crayons?” Yongsun asks, and Jongdae doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry at her innocent question. If only it were that simple. “Because if he did, then all he has to do is return the crayon and apologise, and you can come back and visit us again!”

“It’s—not that simple, Yongsun-ah.”

Jongdae thinks he hears a tiny stamp of the foot. “Why not? Last week Byulyi stole my blue crayon while I was colouring and ran away with it! Teacher Jongdae told Byulyi that she shouldn’t do that, and that she should say she was sorry,” Yongsun retorts. “I didn’t want to be friends with Byulyi after that, but teacher Jongdae said that Byulyi was really, really sorry, and Byulyi looked so sad when I said I didn’t want to be friends with her any more. So I told Byulyi I would be friends with her again and she said she was sorry and then we coloured together!”

There’s something mystifying about how similar their situations are, even if Jongdae wished that all he’d done was take a blue crayon away from Chanyeol. When he’d resolved Byulyi and Yongsun’s little spat, he hadn’t even noticed that it was basically what he and Chanyeol were going through.

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Because it is! Are you the one who doesn’t want to be friends with teacher Jongdae again, Mr Chanyeol? Is that why he looks as sad as Byulyi did?”

“I—maybe.”

“Then you’re a big dumb dumb!” Yongsun scolds, and Jongdae almost bursts out laughing. “Teacher Jongdae is going to be really, really sorry like Byulyi was, and he’s going to be really, really sad like Byulyi, and it’s all your fault!”

Jongdae smiles sadly to himself. He supposes that he is both as sorry and as sad as Byulyi had looked when Yongsun had declared her intention of never being friends with her again. He doesn’t stay to hear the rest of the conversation, instead grabbing the box of Jongin’s favourite cereal off the shelf—if Jongin doesn’t eat it, he will—and heading to the cashier to make payment.

He has a dinner to make, and he’s shed enough tears over Chanyeol as it is.

> I’m sorry.

> I thought a lot about things.

> And got scolded by one of your kids, too.

> I understand if you don’t want to talk to me anymore.

> I wasn’t a very good friend, huh?

> I’ll be waiting where we last left off.

> I’ll bring the food if you bring the drinks?

> This Saturday, at noon.

> Please forgive me, Jongdae.

> I miss you.

In the back of his mind, Jongdae can still hear Baekhyun’s indignant voice:You’re going to forgive him, just like that? At least make him work for it! He supposes that Baekhyun has a point, but Jongdae’s tired of this argument already. As much as he’s enjoyed the time he’s been able to spend with his best friend and his brothers, his friendship with Chanyeol is something he cherishes, too.

He heads over to the nearest Tiger Sugar once he steps out of the subway—he would drive, but parking in Hongdae is crazy expensive, and Jongdae’s just not about that life—and picks up his favourite drink. He’s not sure if Chanyeol will like it, but if he’s going to be grovelling at Jongdae’s feet, then he’ll drink what Jongdae gets him and he’ll like it.

He slowly makes his way to the meeting location. The last time he was here, he’d had his heart ripped out of his chest and stepped on, not to be dramatic. It had hurt, and Jongdae’s not sure if he’s ready to go through that again. He makes himself trust in Chanyeol, even if the other hasn’t given him much reason to do so recently.

Chanyeol’s sitting on the bench; not the exact same one, but in the vicinity. He looks—forlorn. Sad. His back is hunched, making it seem like he’s much shorter than he actually is. Jongdae’s not sure what to make of it, so he approaches him silently.

“Hey.”

Chanyeol jumps, startled, spinning around with wide eyes. He breaks into a grin at the sight of Jongdae, who’s standing awkwardly behind him, plastic bags of bubble tea in hand. “Jongdae!” He greets, relief in his voice, like he hadn’t expected Jongdae to actually show up. “You’re here.”

“Yeah,” Jongdae replies after a tense pause. “I got you Tiger Sugar,” He says, raising his occupied hand.

“What’s that?” Chanyeol asks, shifting on the bench and patting the empty space with his hand. He’s laid out the food between them, so similar to the last time they were here.

Jongdae takes his seat and hands him one of the cups. “Bubble tea.”

Chanyeol stabs his straw into the drink and sucks it up, cheeks hollowed. He’s got his hair down today, fringe falling into his eyes. He looks really, really good. Jongdae tells his heart to calm down and his brain to shut up; he doesn’t need this right now.

“I’m sorry.”

Jongdae looks up, broken out of his reverie. Chanyeol’s looking earnestly at him through his wire-rimmed glasses. “I was out of line, the other day. I was just—it was so close to the anniversary of their death so I was extra sensitive, and I missed them so much,” He takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “It doesn’t mean what I did to you was right. I shouldn’t have accused you the way I did, shouldn’t have accused you of anything. You’re not—you’re a good friend, Jongdae, and I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

Jongdae sighs, cradling his own cup of bubble tea in his hands. “I like you,” He confesses, looking down instead of at Chanyeol. Better to get it all out of the way before he gets his hopes up. “That’s—important, I guess. I don’t want you to say yes to this friendship and then push me away again. I have feelings for you, but I’m not—I know, Chanyeol, about your family. I’m not going to push you into anything; I don’t expect anything from you. But this is something you need to know, and decide if you can accept it or not.”

Chanyeol stays quiet for a long time, and Jongdae’s hope begins to dwindle. He’s just about to get up and leave when Chanyeol speaks up again. “Hyejoo and I met in university,” He starts. Jongdae stiffens up beside him, unsure of what he’s trying to accomplish. “We were a campus couple, you could say, but we didn’t get very serious until our second year.”

“I love her,” Chanyeol says, and when Jongdae chances a glance at him, he’s staring up at the sky. “I’ll always love her. We got married three years after we graduated, six years into our relationship. She was the light of my life, and when Kyungho came along I was the happiest man in the world. We were happy together: my wife, my son and I.

“Then the accident happened, and I lost all of it in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, my family was gone. I had no reason to smile, no reason to look forward to going home at the end of every work day. I won’t ever hear Hyejoo’s voice again, never hear Kyungho call for me when he’s too scared to sleep at night. I won’t ever be able to bring him to his first day of school, never know what it’s like to send him off to university.”

Jongdae shifts uncomfortably. He’s not sure why Chanyeol’s telling him all of this. He knows that he’s volunteered to listen, before, and he will, is, listening, but it feels almost like Chanyeol’s telling him all of this to tell him to give up. That he’ll never be able to live up to what he had with his wife. It hurts more than Jongdae cares to admit.

“Hyejoo and Kyungho are very important to me,” Chanyeol says, smiling at him. “But so are you. You’ve become such a good friend of mine, and you’ve done so much for me. So it’s okay. I can’t promise you anything, but if you don’t expect anything, then we’re okay. I won’t say anything about it nor use it against you.”

Jongdae feels relief flood into him like warmth. It’s not an I accept your confession in the way that Jongdae can only dream of, but it’s an I accept you in the way that Jongdae had wished for. Chanyeol’s telling him that he’s okay with Jongdae’s feelings, that as long as Jongdae never lets it come between them and their friendship, Chanyeol will award him the same courtesy.

“Will you forgive me?” Chanyeol asks. “I’m sorry for everything that I said. I should never have even thought of them, much less speak them out loud. You’ve done so much for me, and that was the way I chose to repay you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you.”

“Just—” Jongdae starts, almost choking up with tears. “Don’t do that again.”

Chanyeol beams at him, and it’s the most beautiful sight in the world. “I won’t. I promise.”

“You’re an idiot,” Jongdae laughs, punching him on the arm. “Now let’s eat; the food’s probably already cold by now.”

“Oh, yeah!” Chanyeol says, like he’s only just realised that they have food—that he bought—between them. “I got double portions of everything except the fried foodstuffs,” He grins. “Admittedly I was hoping to bribe you with them.”

Jongdae raises an eyebrow. “Am I that easily won over?”

“Your love for fried food is shadowed by nothing,” Chanyeol snorts, and Jongdae has to grudgingly admit that he’s right—except, Tiger Sugar is making a run of its money. “It’s not my fault that you’re so easily swayed.”

Jongdae stuffs a piece of rice cake into his mouth and huffs. It only makes Chanyeol laugh harder.

“So you’re the elusive Jongdae,” Kyungsoo says, lips in a pretty heart shaped smile as he holds his hand out for Jongdae to take. “I was beginning to think that Chanyeol had made you up.”

“He only wishes he could make up someone as perfect as I am,” Jongdae sniffs haughtily, but laughs and takes Kyungsoo’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Kyungsoo. Chanyeol’s told me a lot about you.”

“Chanyeol is right here,” The man in question grumbles at the both of them. “I can’t believe you two have just met for less than two minutes and are already ganging up on me.”

Jongdae laughs, reaching over to pet Chanyeol’s shoulder encouragingly while Kyungsoo punches him in the arm. “It’s okay, Chanyeol, you’ll learn to adapt.”

“I like him,” Kyungsoo declares, looking up and down at Jongdae. “I’ll be borrowing him for a while, if you don’t mind.”

Jongdae grins charmingly at Chanyeol’s outraged expression and lets himself be tugged away from his friend and into the kitchen. There’s a bit of a get-together that Chanyeol’s holding, and he’d invited Jongdae, much to his surprise. Chanyeol had just smiled at him and shrugged, telling him that he’s his friend, too, of course he’s invited.

It’s been five years since—that argument, six since they’ve become friends. Jongdae’s much closer to Chanyeol now, knows more about his ins and outs than he ever thought he would. He knows how Chanyeol likes his food, knows he can’t take spicy food but will deal with it with many glasses of milk and tears shed for malatang. He knows that Chanyeol visits Hyejoo and Kyungho’s graves every other Saturday, knows that he brings them fresh flowers each time: white and pink carnations with larkspur tucked into the bouquet for his wife, white lilies and baby’s breath for his son. 

He’s even brought Jongdae along with him twice. Jongdae’s met both Hyejoo and Kyungho, sat with Chanyeol while he spoke to them, introduced Jongdae as his newest best friend, someone who’s stayed with him through all his ups and downs—”my downs, especially, Hyejoo, I miss you and Kyungho, miss you so much”—and supported him.

“Chanyeol’s told us a lot about you,” Kyungsoo says as he tugs Jongdae with him. “It’s honestly a crime that it’s taken him six years to introduce you to us. If anything, I’d say he’s trying to keep you all to himself.”

“I really doubt that’s the case,” Jongdae waves him off, but laughs with him anyways. “He talks about you and Sehun a lot to me, too.”

Sehun is Chanyeol’s other best friend, as Jongdae has now learned. The man is tall, thin and pale. He’s also devastatingly handsome when he keeps his poker face on; when he doesn’t, however, he’s almost like a little chick with the way he clings to his friends and asks for attention. 

“I’ve brought the goods,” Kyungsoo announces as he steps outside the back door. Sehun’s there, as well as Yixing—another of Chanyeol’s friends: a composer, Chanyeol’s told him, one that works on music production with him—who sends him a wave. Jongdae waves back, then, upon realising that he’s being referred to as ‘the goods’, squawks indignantly. “Everyone’s been dying to meet you,” Kyungsoo says cheekily. “Chanyeol’s too busy playing host to pay much attention to us now, so we get to have you all to ourselves.”

“Is this like, a best friend vetting meeting or something?” Jongdae asks nervously.

The three only laugh and shake their heads, handing him a beer and telling him to sit. Jongdae does as he’s told, a little scared and afraid. “We just wanted to get to know you a little better,” Yixing says, smiling. His dimple makes him look innocent, and Jongdae relaxes just a bit. “Chanyeol tells us so much about you, you know? Says you helped him through so much after Hyejoo passed. I guess we’re all just curious as to who that person is.”

“I didn’t really do much,” Jongdae admits. “I just stayed with him, you know? As a friend. After we met, it was hard not to want to meet him again, with how generous he was. And then he came back, again and again, and the kids love him. The friendship was easily formed from there.”

“Be that as it may,” Sehun says. “You’ve done a lot for him, haven’t you? Sometimes, on the days near—the death anniversary, when one of us asks him out, he says he’s already got plans with you. It’s not exactly a coincidence, is it? You know when it is, and you’re actively trying to help him.”

“That’s what friends do,” Jongdae retorts, feeling oddly defensive. He knows why he does that, as does Chanyeol, but Jongdae’s not about to reveal to Chanyeol’s friends that he’s in love with him on the very first day that they meet. Besides, it’s not like the people he’s currently with don’t do the same.

Kyungsoo leans over to smack Sehun across the head. “Stop talking like you’re accusing Jongdae of something.” Sehun holds his head and pouts petulantly. “I brought Jongdae here to thank him and to get to know him better.”

“He’s not going about it the right way,” Yixing says, smiling gently. “But what Sehun is saying is that we’re thankful to you. We all tried to stay with Chanyeol after what happened, but there were times when none of us could make it; you were there for him during those times, though. So thank you.”

Jongdae shakes his head. “I just did what any friend would,” He says. “It’s not anything to write home about.”

“We want to thank you regardless,” Yixing continues. “Please accept it.”

“I—” Jongdae starts, but the way the three of them are looking at him makes him back down. “Okay. It was my pleasure, really.”

Kyungsoo beams at him again, and the rest of the time passes by relatively quickly. Jongdae finds that he’s got a lot in common with, well, basically all of them. Kyungsoo sings as a hobby, but helps Chanyeol out with his demos whenever he needs it. Sehun and Yixing are both dancers—something that he can’t relate to, admittedly—but Yixing works with Chanyeol on his music production and Sehun’s the one who helps Chanyeol out with his demos when he needs a rapper. 

They ply him with alcohol, cracking open can after can of beer. Jongdae would be worried that they’re trying to get him shitface drunk, except they’re with him on every single can opened. By the end of the night Jongdae is all but cuddled up to Yixing, and all four of them are falling into each other with laughter every time someone so much as opens their mouth to make a joke.

Chanyeol comes to look for them when the get together is beginning to wind down. He comes outside with a wide grin that quickly becomes a frown, and Jongdae stares blearily up at him from where he has his head leaning against Yixing’s shoulder. “Hey, Chanyeol,” Yixing greets, waving at him with the hand he has around Jongdae. “Had a lot to take care of tonight?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol replies mechanically, that same frown still on his face as he stares at them. He pays neither Kyungsoo nor Sehun attention: Kyungsoo smiles knowingly while Sehun pouts and whines for attention.

“Did you drive here, Jongdae?” Kyungsoo asks. He’s only slightly tipsy, as is Jongdae, but neither of them would feel comfortable driving in this state. 

Jongdae nods. “I’ll just take a cab home and come get my car tomorrow, if that’s okay with you?” He directs the question to Chanyeol.

“I have a guest bedroom,” Chanyeol answers. “You can sleep over for the night and drive home tomorrow.”

“Oh, no,” Jongdae shakes his head. “I couldn’t impose on you like that—”

“You’re not,” Chanyeol states simply. He’s still got that crease between his eyes, and Jongdae feels vulnerable all of a sudden. He sits up and out of Yixing’s arm, and then suddenly it’s gone. “I’m offering it to you.”

Kyungsoo drags a drunk Sehun to his feet, then. “We’ll head back first, then,” Kyungsoo announces. “Thank you for inviting us, Chanyeol.”

“I’ll get going too,” Yixing says, getting to his feet and dusting his pants off primly. “I had a really good time,” He directs at Jongdae, dimpling cutely. “It was great to finally meet you, Jongdae!”

Jongdae sees the furrow in Chanyeol’s brow again, but he’s too inebriated to try and figure out why, so he lets it slide. He figures that if Chanyeol were upset, he would say so. Chanyeol’s never been one to shy away from expressing himself anyways. 

“I’ll see you all out,” Chanyeol says to his friends, then turns to Jongdae, expression softening. “Wait here, okay? I’ll bring you to the guest room once I’ve seen them out.”

Jongdae would refuse again, but he knows that there’s little to no use in arguing with Chanyeol when he’s adamant on something. He continues sipping on his now almost empty can of beer, staring up at the stars and humming to himself.

He almost doesn’t hear Kyungsoo’s parting words as he’s leaving, a quick “remember that you can let yourself be happy again, Chanyeol” that has Jongdae pondering what he means by that. There is, admittedly, a part of him that’s hopeful to what it means, but he’s long come to terms with the fact that he has no chance with Chanyeol; it’s enough to love him from afar, as a friend.

Chanyeol comes back soon enough, and Jongdae only realises then that he’s the only guest of Chanyeol’s left. “Aren’t you cold out here?” He asks, sitting down next to Jongdae on the porch.

“I’m all right,” Jongdae replies, smiling. “Thank you.”

Chanyeol sighs. “Did you have fun today? I’m sorry that I invited you and basically neglected you the entire time.”

“Not at all,” Jongdae tells him. “Your friends kept me company. I really enjoyed spending my time with them.”

There’s that look again, Jongdae thinks, the crease between his eyebrows. “You looked like you were really close to Yixing,” Chanyeol starts hesitantly, like he doesn’t know how to articulate his thoughts. “You two really hit it off, huh?”

“He’s a really nice guy,” Jongdae replies, shrugging. “And we have a lot in common.”

Chanyeol presses his lips together, then blurts, “You know he has a girlfriend, right?”

Jongdae sends Chanyeol a look. “No, I don’t,” Jongdae says coldly, one eyebrow raised. “I don’t know what that has to do with anything? Am I not allowed to make a friend without wanting to pursue something romantic with them?” Okay, so maybe in Chanyeol’s eyes, his track record isn’t that great, but it doesn’t give him the right to insinuate anything of the sort about Jongdae. 

“No, no,” Chanyeol shakes his head frantically. “That’s—not what I meant at all! I just, I don’t know, I didn’t feel comfortable watching the two of you interact so closely.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m— jealous, okay!” Chanyeol shouts. “I don’t want to—to see the way he wraps his arm around you like you’ve known each other for forever while I’m stuck inside having to deal with a bunch of other people! And yeah, I know I invited them over but it still sucked.”

Jongdae stares at him, wide-eyed. “You were jealous?” He asks. “What would you even be jealous of?” His heart is pounding, both looking forward to and afraid of the answer. There’s only two options here: one, that Chanyeol was jealous of Yixing, and two that Chanyeol was jealous of Jongdae. He can only hope, hope against hope, that Chanyeol says what he wants to hear.

“Of him,” Chanyeol says with his hands over his face, voice muffled. “And it felt terrible, I felt terrible, because I hated seeing how comfortable he was with you. But then I would think about Hyejoo and Kyungho and how they’re supposed to be the loves of my life and I feel guilty for even feeling that way.”

“You don’t have to—” Jongdae cuts himself off, unsure of what to say. He has no idea if anything he says will make Chanyeol feel better, or if he’s just making things harder for the both of them. “I don’t expect anything. I’ve always said that.”

“And I know that. You think I don’t?” Chanyeol asks, incredulous. “You’ve always been— here, always so accepting and helpful and you just—expect nothing from me and all I do is take and take and take from you without giving you anything in return.”

Jongdae shakes his head. “You have, Chanyeol, don’t you see? You’ve given me so much, so much of your time, and it’s so fun just being around you. You have no idea how happy you’ve made me.”

“I want to do more,” Chanyeol confesses, finally lowering his hands when Jongdae reaches up to gently pry them away from his face. His eyes are teary, lips trembling slightly. “I want to make you happier, and that scares me, Jongdae. I’ve been having these thoughts for months now. It terrifies me. I don’t want to forget what Hyejoo and Kyungho gave to me, but sometimes when I’m with you, it’s just so consuming that you’re all I can think about.”

“You don’t have to forget them,” Jongdae says softly, one thumb caressing the back of Chanyeol’s hand. He swallows around the lump in his throat; he has no idea if Chanyeol is going to let himself give in and return the love that Jongdae has given to him for so many years. He’s always told Chanyeol that he had no expectations from him, but if he’s close, if he’s this close, could he not try? Did he not deserve to be happy with Chanyeol, too? “If we—start anything, it doesn’t mean that you have to forget them. You can still visit them every other weekend, still keep their photos up the walls. They’re your family, Chanyeol. They always will be.”

Chanyeol looks at him for a long time. Jongdae keeps his silence, just gazes back earnestly. Chanyeol stands up, slowly, and brings Jongdae with him, leading him into the house and up the steps. “I’ll leave some clothes out for you,” Chanyeol says, gesturing towards the bathroom. “Shower first, then sleep here for the night.”

Jongdae makes to say something, but Chanyeol smiles sadly and puts his index finger over Jongdae’s lips. “I know you have a lot of questions, and I know that I’m asking a lot from you. I have a lot to think about tonight, but it would ease my mind if you would sleep here tonight. Please, Jongdae?”

Jongdae hesitates, but nods when he sees the earnest glint in Chanyeol’s eye. Chanyeol leaves—presumably to go get the clothes he was talking about—and Jongdae moves into the bathroom. He tells himself to calm down, first and foremost. Chanyeol is thinking about a potential romantic relationship with him; it’s more than Jongdae has dared to let himself think about.

He goes under the spray of water, scrubbing at himself almost furiously in an effort to take his mind of off things. Chanyeol knocks on the door when he’s halfway through shampooing his hair. “I’ve left a towel and some clothes on a stool outside the door.”

He grabs the towel and dries himself, then slides the clothes on. They’re huge—Chanyeol’s, probably, and he’s basically swimming in them. It makes him feel a little giddy on the inside, if nothing else. He’s in Chanyeol’s house, wearing Chanyeol’s clothes, about to sleep in Chanyeol’s—guest—bedroom.

“You’re done,” Chanyeol notes when Jongdae walks out of the bathroom with a cloud of steam billowing out from behind him. “The guest bedroom’s over here. You know where the kitchen is if you’re thirsty in the middle of the night, as well as the bathroom. My bedroom’s just down the hallway; don’t hesitate to wake me up if you need anything, okay?”

Jongdae nods, and Chanyeol smiles at him. He finds himself returning it, unable to stop himself, and Chanyeol laughs, but not unkindly. “Thank you, Jongdae,” Chanyeol says. “Thank you so much.”

“I’ve done nothing,” Jongdae replies. “That you have to thank me so profusely for.”

“On the contrary,” Chanyeol rebutts playfully, but there’s a hint of seriousness in his gaze. “You just don’t know how much you’ve done for me.”

Jongdae tilts his head to one side, and Chanyeol lifts one hand to boop him on the nose. “Good night, Jongdae.”

“Good night, Chanyeol.”

He watches as Chanyeol disappears down the hallway and into his room, but not before turning back and waving another greeting at Jongdae. Jongdae smiles and waves back, then makes his way to the kitchen to get a glass of water to take to the guest bedroom with him.

He puts the glass of water on the nightstand after taking a couple of sips, then sighs and gets into bed. In his mind, he goes through the conversation that he had with Chanyeol earlier than night, tugging the covers up all the way to his chin in an effort not to squeal and roll around the bed like an adolescent faced with their first crush.

He falls into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

It feels like it’s only been a few minutes since he closed his eyes, but before Jongdae knows it, there’s a gentle knock on the door and Chanyeol’s voice is calling, “Jongdae, are you awake? Can I come in?”

Blearily blinking the sleep out of his eyes, Jongdae answers with a barely awake grunt, and Chanyeol pushes the door open, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry,” He starts by saying. “I didn’t want to wake you, but I felt like I would burst if I didn’t manage to get everything out to you.”

“It’s all right,” Jongdae answers, sitting up in bed and rubbing at his eyes with his fists. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s about last night,” Chanyeol says. Jongdae stiffens up. Is Chanyeol going to say that he’s changed his mind, and would rather not pursue a romantic relationship with Jongdae? He’d accept it, of course, as he had promised his friend, but he would rather be dressed and ready to leave if he’s going to be rejected once again. “I want to try.”

“It’s okay, Chanyeol, really, I’ll just—huh?”

Chanyeol’s looking at him with a tender expression and a small, amused smile on his face. “I want to try, with you.”

“You—with me? You want to date—me?”

“Is it that hard to believe?”

Jongdae shakes his head frantically. “No! I mean, yes—no! I just, really? I’m not—not dreaming or anything? You really want to try, with me?”

Chanyeol reaches forward to pinch Jongdae playfully. He yelps from the slight sting, but then his eyes widen. If it hurts, and he’s not waking up, then he’s not asleep. This isn’t a dream. Jongdae’s really sitting here, in Chanyeol’s guest bedroom, being told by said owner that he wants to try out a romantic relationship with him.

“I’ve spent so many years with you, Jongdae,” Chanyeol confesses. “I’ve seen you laugh, seen you cry, seen the way you get sad when your kids graduate. In the beginning I’ll admit that I saw you as nothing but a friend, but that began to change afterwards. Everything you do, I find cute. When I’m happy, I find I want to share it with you. When I’m sad, I find that I want to search for you, because you always manage to make it better for me.

“I’ve told you this before; Hyejoo and Kyungho, they were my everything,” Chanyeol says. “But I think—I think that I’m ready to move on. They’ll always be a part of me,” He twists the wedding ring around his fourth finger. “And I’ll never let them go, but I don’t doubt that Hyejoo would have wanted this for me. She would’ve wanted me to find happiness again, rather than mourn her for the rest of my life.

“And find happiness I did,” Chanyeol finishes with a bright, teary-eyed smile. “In you.”

Jongdae muffles a sob with his fist, nodding furiously. He knows, of course, understands everything that Chanyeol is saying, because Jongdae had fallen in love with him first, had felt the way he wanted to share his happiness with Chanyeol, spend time with Chanyeol to make his bad days go by quicker, less bitter.

“I know I’ve hurt you before,” Chanyeol says, reaching out with one hand to take both of Jongdae’s in his own. “But I’m willing to take the time to gain your forgiveness, then your trust, and your love. Will you accept me, Jongdae?”

“You’re an idiot,” Jongdae cries, laughs, through his tears. “I’ve loved you for five years now, you absolute moron. Of course I’ll accept you, why would I say anything other than yes?”

Chanyeol beams at him regardless, scooting closer to sit next to him on the bed. “May I kiss you?”

Jongdae’s heart seizes up, face flushing rapidly. He swallows, then, “Please.”

Chanyeol leans forward, then, to press his lips gently against Jongdae’s own. Jongdae’s breath hitches, eyes closing of their own accord as he leans into the kiss, feels the way Chanyeol’s lips spread into a smile as he prolongs it. They kiss once, twice, three times, parting just the littlest bit for air before one or the other decides that they haven’t had enough, and that they need more, leaning back into it eagerly.

When they finally part, foreheads gently touching each other’s, they’re both flushed and panting slightly. Chanyeol’s lips are kiss swollen, and Jongdae finds himself unable to resist as he darts back in for a second round.

“You are trouble,” Chanyeol mutters against Jongdae’s lips, hands coming up to rest around Jongdae’s waist as Jongdae all but climbs into his lap. He moves away from Jongdae just a little, resists Jongdae’s attempts at following him. “As much as I like kissing you,” Chanyeol teases. “I think I’d like it more after you’ve brushed your teeth.”

Jongdae feels his cheeks heating up, and he nods shamefully. He’d been admittedly overeager, but he’s also been dreaming about this for literal years, so sue him. “Sorry,” He whispers.

“No,” Chanyeol presses a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. “No apologies.”

“But—”

“No,” Chanyeol reiterates firmly. “I think we’ve had enough apologies between us, and this isn’t something you need to apologise for. Besides,” Chanyeol grins cheekily. “I liked it. I do hope there’ll be more of it in future.”

“You’re horrid,” Jongdae bemoans, covering his face with his palms. “An absolute menace.”

“One you fell in love with,” Chanyeol says mischievously. He presses another kiss to the top of Jongdae’s head, then leads him up and out the room with a gentle hand. “Come; freshen yourself up in the bathroom—spare toothbrushes are in the cabinet above the sink—and then come downstairs. I’m making pancakes for breakfast.”

Jongdae sighs happily, stopping them in the middle of the hallway. Chanyeol startles, and Jongdae’s courage falters, leaving him feeling cold and empty, but then he smiles at Jongdae and all the bravery comes surging back into him at once. He stands up on the tips of his toes to press his own kiss to Chanyeol’s cheek. “I’ve changed my mind,” He says, eyes crinkled prettily into little crescents. “You’re absolutely lovely.”

“Hey, Hyejoo. I’ve brought someone here to meet you,” Chanyeol says, kneeling down by the grave with flowers in hand. He’s changed his bouquet from his usual choice; it now consists of bright yellow tulips, daffodils and peonies. “Well, you’ve met him before, but it’s a little different this time.”

Jongdae places his own bunch of poppies down next to Chanyeol’s bouquet, letting Chanyeol speak to his wife.

“I’ve decided to pursue something with Jongdae,” Chanyeol explains, voice choking up a little. Jongdae wants to reach out to take his hand, but refrains. He’s not sure if Chanyeol would appreciate that right now. “Romantically. It’s not—I’m not forgetting you nor Kyungho. Jongdae, he makes me happy. He’s helped me so much through the aftermath of the accident. I owe him a lot.” He smiles slightly, then, looks over at Jongdae and takes his hand.

Jongdae smiles back at him, takes this as his cue to start speaking. “Hello, Hyejoo,” He greets. Chanyeol’s moving, methodically cleaning the tombstone and cleaning it free of dust. “It’s nice to meet you again. Chanyeol’s told me alot about you since my last visit.”

He stays quiet for a while, thinking of what to say. “Chanyeol’s already told you everything, but I’d like to say it again, I think. Chanyeol and I have decided to start something together. I’m not meant to be a replacement, and I won’t force him to forget everything that the two of you have had together,” He reaches out to gently touch the bouquet of poppies that he’s brought. “I’m just here to—be happy, with him. To help him smile again.”

“I’ll try to take care of him to the best of my ability, so you don’t have to worry about that. I’ll make sure to keep him fed and nudge him out of his self-imposed fasts when he’s composing—” “Hey!” “—and when he’s so focused on his work he can’t see anything else in front of him.”

“Are you promising to take care of me to Hyejoo or just making fun of me?” Chanyeol asks, lower lip jutted out in a pout.

“Can’t I do both?” Jongdae teases, eyes bright.

Chanyeol just looks at him, fond glint in his eyes. Jongdae flushes under it, turns back to the tombstone. “I’ll do my best to take care of him for as long as he wants me to.”

“As I will him,” Chanyeol promises, squeezing the hand he has in Jongdae’s. “For as long as he wants me to.”

Jongdae beams at him, heart full of warmth and love. They stay for a little longer, Chanyeol talking to Hyejoo, then Kyungho. Jongdae takes out a little trinket from his pocket: a little toy truck, the kind that Chanyeol had told him Kyungho loved playing with. He places it on the grave, next to the bouquet of white lilies he’d bought for him.

“You remembered,” Chanyeol says in awe. Jongdae just sends him a glance and a sad little smile.

“I wanted him to have something,” Jongdae says. “To play with. To be just that little bit happier, wherever he is.”

Chanyeol lets go of his hand, and Jongdae panics for that split second, wonders if he’s done something wrong. He’s soon wrapped up in Chanyeol’s embrace, tucked against his warm, study chest. “Thank you,” Chanyeol says, sounding choked up. “Thank you so much, Jongdae. I love you.”

Jongdae wraps his arms around him, too, relaxes in the hug and tucks his face into Chanyeol’s neck. “There’s no need to thank me, silly,” He admonishes gently. “I love you, too. So much, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol takes his hand again when they let go of each other, like he can’t bear to be away from Jongdae for even just a second. He places one last gentle touch on both Hyejoo and Kyungho’s tombstones, then stands up and takes Jongdae with him. “Let’s go home,” He says, voice low and eyes soft.

Jongdae looks up at him, wonders if he’s talking about the both of them going back to their respective homes, or if it’s the both of them to Chanyeol’s—hopes against hope, desperately, that it’s the latter. “Let’s.”

Chapter Text

“I’m going to get you!”

Screams echo through the house as Jongdae runs down the hallways with his daughter’s chubby little hand in his own. Chanyeol is behind them, hands coated with flour as they rush to get away from his white powdered hands. Jongdae’s laughing, but Sejeong’s screams are very real: she’s very used to Chanyeol and his floury hands.

“No, papa, no!” Sejeong shouts, squealing loudly as they make a turn into Sejeong’s playroom. They’re cornered here, Jongdae knows, as does Chanyeol, but Sejeong is a brave young girl and will do anything to stop her father’s rampage. She steps bravely in front of Jongdae to protect him, palms held out in a desperate attempt to slow Chanyeol down. “No!”

Chanyeol pretends to think about it, and when Sejeong relaxes minutely, immediately launches forward to grab her in his arms, the screeching girl kicking wildly. “I’ve got you now!”

Jongdae laughs till his sides hurt, walks towards Chanyeol to give him a kiss on the cheek. Chanyeol returns it on his lips, making Sejeong clap her hands over her eyes and shake her head. “Papa and dada are being gross!” 

“Are we, now?” Jongdae asks, one eyebrow raised. “Would Sejeong not like kisses?”

Sejeong gasps, shaking her head vehemently. “No! Sejeongie always wants kisses!” 

Jongdae shares a quick, fond glance with his husband, then the both of them lean in to press dual, slobbery kisses to Sejeong’s chubby cheeks until she’s squealing with delight between them, legs kicking as she laughs and tries to squirm her way out of Chanyeol’s arms. Chanyeol keeps her where she is—he’s dropped her once, and he’s not about to do it again—and Sejeong can do nothing but giggle under the onslaught of both her fathers until they stop.

By then, she’s panting with exertion, and begs to be let down. “Go wash your hands, papa!” She orders, pointing at the bathroom. She looks down at her dress that’s covered in flour, and looks up at Jongdae with puppy eyes. “Dada, can we change clothes?”

Jongdae smiles at her, laughing. “Of course we can, sweetheart,” He says, picking her up into his arms as Chanyeol does as he’s told by their daughter—they’re both whipped for her, as much as they try to pretend they aren’t.

He lets her pick out a brand new dress; he wouldn’t usually encourage this, but it’s Christmas Eve, and it’s a time for celebration. They’re going to head over to Yixing’s house tomorrow for their annual Christmas party, and the cookies that they’re going to bring are baking in the oven. 

“Let’s sing a song, dada! Papa!” 

Chanyeol comes to wrap his arms around Jongdae from behind, leaning his chin on his shoulder. Jongdae smiles, leans back into his husband’s warm embrace. He presses a quick, gentle kiss to Chanyeol’s jaw, watches his daughter think through her options.

“Twelve days of Christmas!” 

Jongdae laughs, because of course his favourite song would also be his daughter’s. That may or may not be because he’s played it more than any other Christmas song, but Chanyeol’s never complained before, so Jongdae continues the status quo.

The three of them dance along to the song, and when it gets to the climax, screams out five golden rings at the top of their lungs. Sejeong’s voice is the loudest; an actual feat all things considered. Chanyeol laughs so hard he has to bend over, letting go of Jongdae’s waist but reaching out to grab his hand so they’re still touching. Sejeong follows her father, falling to the floor with her giggling.

Jongdae smiles, watches his family around him. 

Chanyeol’s ring, matching with his, on their ring fingers. The silver chain around Chanyeol’s neck, on which another ring nestles cleanly in the hollow of his throat. The picture of himself and Chanyeol at their wedding, framed beautifully above the fireplace. The picture of Chanyeol, Hyejoo and Kyungho, smaller, framed and on the mantle. Another picture, framed, of himself, Chanyeol and Sejeong. More photos dotted around the house of their family, of Sejeong when they’d just adopted her, to her first birthday with them, to the time she was flower girl at Baekhyun and Kyungsoo’s wedding.

“Love?” Chanyeol calls. “Is something wrong?”

Jongdae breaks out of his reverie to see his husband and child looking at him with wide eyes, then shakes his head and smiles at them, eyes crinkling into crescents the way Chanyeol loved the most. “Nothing,” He says. He leans forward, kisses Chanyeol on the lips, once, twice, three times, then does the same for Sejeong, on the cheek. “I just love you both.”

Chanyeol smiles in return while Sejeong squeals at the cheesiness, but throws herself into their arms. “Love papa!” She giggles. “Love dada!”

He gets a kiss from Chanyeol, another from Sejeong. “I love you, too,” Chanyeol says, voice deep with emotion, eyes wide and earnest. “Until you don’t want me to, any more."

Jongdae leans into them, a little squirmy and a lot blissful. "And every day after."