Archive of Our Own

Jaebeom isn’t cut out for this. 

When he agreed to room with Mark, he was prepared for late-night videogames and the occasional last-minute study session before big exams. He thought he’d wake up to Mark shoving three-day-old doughnuts in his mouth before shouting a quick goodbye as he runs out the door late to his morning lecture, warning Jaebeom that they need to shop for food later. 

When he thinks about it, they have experienced countless nights of video games and textbook cramming, they even went shopping yesterday. Living with Mark isn’t too bad. He’s quiet, cleans up after himself, and leaves Jaebeom alone when he needs space. They split the rent and utilities for their two-bedroom apartment that’s not too far from Jaebeom’s dance school and Mark’s family restaurant. Jaebeom scored big with Mark, he’s a great roommate and an even greater friend. 

The downside to rooming with him—and yes there is a downside, nobody’s perfect—is that Mark is so fucking unpredictable at times that Jaebeom assumes he doesn’t think before acts. During their college years, Mark gave Jaebeom an abundance of heart attacks, like when he flipped off a four-story frat-house into the pool. Or when he caught the dorm’s panty thief using a police siren and tripwire (don’t ask, not even Jeabeom knows where he found those things laying around).

To the untrained eye, Mark may come off as unhinged. He’s a wild card, someone so out of their mind that Jaebeom doesn’t know how in the world he landed him as a best friend. Over the years he’s questioned their friendship, wonders if he could slip away and pretend that they never knew each other to save his sanity and not enter an early grave. Though when Jaebeom thinks about it, he knows he could never forget Mark, even when he does the dumbest acts no sane person would even think to accomplish. Like now. 

“Hyung,” Jaebeom says in a smooth, controlled voice. “What do you have there?”

Mark looks up from toeing off his shoes. “A smoothie.” He waves the plastic cup with his half-empty drink and shoots Jaebeom a smile. “It’s strawberry, you want some?” 

“No, hyung, I’m not talking about the smoothie. I’m talking about the thing in your arms.” Jaebeom can feel his blood pressure rising. His voice is no longer neutral, it’s taken a tremulous tone and only worsens when Mark confirms— 

“Oh. It’s a baby.” 

Jaebeom’s going to have an aneurysm, he’s sure. He’s stuck with panic when Mark steps into the apartment with the small bundle of blankets curled against his chest. Mark puts the smoothie down on the kitchen counter and shifts to cradle the child’s head in his hands. He moves the blankets to reveal a small, pudgy face and dark black hair. The baby’s sound asleep, tiny snores drifted from his button nose, chest rising and falling with each breath. 

“Isn’t he cute?” Mark coos at the child; he scrunches his nose and nuzzles the downy soft hair atop his head. “I found him in a box.”

“In a box?”

“Yup. At a doorstep.”

“At a doorstep,” Jaebeom repeated, hoping the news would sink in and he’d finally understand why his idiotic roommate would bring a baby off the streets. It’s the start of November, baby’s shouldn’t even be on the streets during this time of the year. Jaebeom stiffened when he realized, “Hyung, was this doorstep near the corner store? Across the street from the elementary school?”

Mark hums in acknowledgment. Jaebeom feels his hands shake with the urge to pull Mark into the headlock and knock some sense into him. “Hyung, that was a foster home. You could’ve left him there and he would’ve been fine.”

Mark glances up to shoot Jaebeom with an incredulous look. He adjusts the baby so he’s comfortably in his arms, totally brushing off the new information.“Not out in the cold where he could get sick. I heard BamBam crying and I couldn’t just leave him there.” 

Jaebeom feels his first blood vessel burst. “You named the kid...BamBam?” 

“No, that’s his real name. Here,” Mark dug in his back pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, “he came with this.” 

Jaebeom takes the note and to his surprise sees two languages in scratchy handwriting, one in Thai and the other in broken Korean. 

" Hi, my name is Kunpimook Bhuwahul BamBam," Jaebeom reads. "I f you’re reading this, then that means my family must’ve left me in a good home. They needed to go back to Thailand and couldn’t take me with them. I hope whoever has me can be my new parents. Please take care of me."

When he finishes, Mark stares at Jaebeom like he grew a second head. That would be a better spectacle than the surprise baby in the room. 

“When you’d learn Thai?” 

“Really? That’s your main concern?” Jaebeom fisted the note and pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt a headache coming on, the slight pulse in his temples grew to a dull throb and is well on its way to a jackhammer. He needs to calm down and think about the situation, collect the variables then find a solution to their problem. 

Too bad their problem awoke from his nap screaming. 

“No no no, it’s okay, BamBam. It’s okay. Markie’s here,” Mark shushed. He cradled BamBam against his shoulder and bounced in an attempt to soothe him. The child only wailed louder, his tiny lungs went into overdrive and the noise amplified across the large apartment.

Jaebeom’s second blood vessel was well on its way to explosion when BamBam’s cry turned glass shattering. Jaebeom had to cup his hands over his ears just to hear himself yell, “Make him stop!” 

“I’m trying! Maybe he’s hungry, do you have baby food?”

“Hyung, why the fuck would we have baby food?” 

Mark unleashed a frustrated groan then continued rocking the child from side to side. The fond, easy-going grin he wore moments before BamBam woke up was long gone, now replaced with pursed lips and furrowed brows, almost like he’s concentrating. He patted the boy’s back and tenderly consoled him, whispered soft reassurance in his tiny ear until BamBam’s screech turned into a feeble whimper. BamBam’s chubby hand escaped from his blanket cocoon and automatically went to his mouth. He happily suckled on his thumb and drifted back to sleep with dry tear streaks on his cheeks.

Jaebeom stood dumbfounded as he watched Mark calm the child down in minutes. From his spot in the kitchen, he could see Mark visibly relax. He bounced BamBam until his snoring returned and he buried his face in Mark’s neck. Jaebeom’s seen almost every superhero movie in the theater, yet no power will amaze him like the one he just witnessed. 

“How’d you do that?” He asked. 

“I have three nieces, I learned a few tricks while babysitting.” Mark’s grin reappeared, a genuine smile so warm Jaebeom felt a sharp pang in his chest. It’s not the first time he’s been struck with how attractive Mark looks with his canine teeth when he smiles. Jaebeom will just brush it off and blame it on his aneurysm. 

Jaebeom scrubbed his face with his hands, took a deep breath then said, “Hyung, we can’t keep him.” 

“Sure we can. He can sleep in my room.” Mark kept rocking BamBam side to side gently, smiling down at the bundle with an air of someone who is already emotionally attached. It’s cute, Jaebeom admits. He’s emotionally compromised by the picture Mark and BamBam make, and there’s surely no way this will end in anything less than tears.

“Hyung,” Jaebeom calls, voice and nerves back to a normal level. “We can’t take care of him, we can barely take care of ourselves.”

Mark raises an eyebrow. “Yes, we can. Just because you’re bad with kids doesn’t mean we can’t try. We can’t abandon him like how his parents did. He needs us.”

Jaebeom ignored the painful truth of his lack of child tenderness in favor of suppressing the sudden urge to march up to his friend and kiss him senseless. This feeling, the burning fire of affection Jaebeom harbored for the past year and a half, is also a reason why rooming with Mark is a downside. 

“We should give him to the authorities,” Jaebeom states, trying to be the voice of reason between the two of them. 

Mark holds BamBam closer to his chest and frowns at Jaebeom. He shoots him the same look he gives when Jaebeom drinks the rest of the milk straight from the carton. It’s borderline disappointment and Jaebeom feels like he should apologize for even suggesting it. 

“C’mon, Beom. Look at him, he already likes it here.” And just because BamBam has impeccable timing (or he’s actually proving a point), he kicked his little feet in his blanket and removed his thumb from his mouth to emit an affirmative gurgle. “See! He said so himself!”

Jaebeom moved forward without thinking and peered down at BamBam’s brown fluttering eyes. He has long eyelashes for a baby, and a mole on his bottom left lid. His mouth seemed to be set in a permanent pout, pink lips puckered as he stared at Jaebeom. They have a silent showdown, brown locked onto brown until BamBam reaches forward with a spit covered hand and gurgles once more. 

Mark giggled. “He likes you.” 

“Yeah, sure.” Jaebeom feels utterly exhausted and it’s not even eight o'clock yet. The energy he had before was now drained. Jaebeom doesn’t have the strength or heart to argue with Mark anymore. He just wants to go to bed and pray that this is all a bad dream. 

BamBam starts fussing again, face scrunched up then begins to cry. It’s tamer this time, less banshee-like. Tears trail down his face and drip onto the blanket. His tiny hands now balled into fists and pound against Mark’s chest. 

“Great, your face made him cry.”

“You said he liked me!”

“I lied to make you feel better. Kids don’t like you.”

Ouch. Well that kinda stung. 

Jaebeom groaned. His headache reared its ugly head, making him sigh in defeat. His tank coughed and found the last drop of energy to trudge to the refrigerator and peer inside. “What do babies eat?”

“Uh,” Mark glanced at BamBam like he would answer for him. Sadly he didn’t, so Mark just guessed. “Mushy stuff. Like pudding, do we have any left?”

“No. I ate the last one today.”

“Bananas?”

“Nope.” 

“Sweet potatoes?”

“Nada.”

Mark swore under his breath then turned back to the door and snatched his car keys off the hook. Jaebeom’s raised an eyebrow.  

“Where are you going?” 

“To the store. Bammie needs things if he’s going to stay with us.” Mark slipped his shoes back on and made sure BamBam was content before opening the door. “I’ll be back in a bit. You don’t need to wait up.”

The door closed and Jaebeom was left in the kitchen with a moment to finally breathe. However, his time of peace lasted less than a second when he realized Mark doesn’t have a car seat with him. The image of him driving with one hand while holding a cranky baby to his chest struck Jaebeom with a bolt of fear so violent, he scrambled for his slippers and yanked the door open then followed Mark into the elevator. 

“Hyung, can you hurry up?” Jaebeom whines. “BamBam keeps glaring at me.”

“He’s not glaring, Beom. He’s just looking at you.”

“Yeah, with the intent to kill.” 

Mark chuckles at him as he continues to choose between what brand of baby food is better. It’s like he doesn’t care that BamBam and Jaebeom are both trapped within each other’s orbit while the former burns a hole straight through Jaebeom’s skull. BamBam’s big eyes are unnerving, they’re pools of chocolate brown full of wonder and probably planning Jaebeom’s murder. He squirms in his arms, kicks at his blanket, and uses his little nails to claw at Jaebeom’s neck, grasping onto his shirt and pulling him down. Jaebeom squawks right in the middle of the aisle, earning himself a few sneers from passing mother’s who are also doing last minute baby shopping. 

The big 24-hour superstore is a godsend when the roommates are starving at 3am and nothing in their humble home can satisfy them. The workers know them by now, having met them on multiple occasions at ungodly hours of the night. So, you can imagine their disbelief when Mark and Jaebeom walked into the store with a baby and asked them where they could find the strollers.

They spent two hours in the store, walking through aisle after aisle with rows of all kinds of baby goodies. Their cart is full of diapers and clothes and enough toys to keep any child occupied for hours. There’s an adjustable car seat, a crib, a walker, and more things than necessary for BamBam if he’s only going to be staying with them for a while. Jaebeom doesn’t know how long a while might be. Mark claims until they can’t anymore, if taking care of BamBam would be too hard for a couple of guys in their late twenties working full-time jobs to do, then they’ll take him back to the foster center. Though, Jaebeom knows it won’t happen. He knows Mark would fight tooth and nail for this child he only met three hours prior because BamBam enchanted him with his adorably murderous eyes and ability to blow bubbles with his nose. 

(Jaebeom will admit the bubble thing is cool. He, too, was fascinated by the snot forming at BamBam’s nose, growing larger until it popped and its contents smeared on Jaebeom’s shirt.)

Mark turns around to face them with two bottles of baby food in his hands and snorts. “You two are getting along swell.”

“Sure, you could say that,” Jaebeom retorts. BamBam is still tugging at his collar, finally putting his plan to strangle Jaebeom into action. He giggles while he does it too, like some sort of cute maniac. “Hyung, help me,” Jaebeom pleads. 

BamBam finally let's go when Mark tosses the food in the wagon and opens his arms for the child to happily snuggle into. He gurgles and laughs at Mark, delighted to see the person he actually likes. Jaebeom feels another sharp throb in his chest when BamBam softly places his palms on Mark’s cheeks and smiles brighter than the sun. 

Goddamn, these two are gonna be the end of me.

“We don’t have any milk. I’m gonna grab some, can you pick more baby food?” Mark asks, already heading back the way they came.

“What kind?” 

“I don’t know. Just choose anything you might think he’ll like.” Mark adjusts BamBam so he’s resting on his shoulder then continues down the aisle. BamBam props his chin up to stare at Jaebeom then, intentionally or not, sticks out his tongue before rounding the corner. 

Jaebeom, fueled by the need to somehow get back at him without physically hurting him, grabs all the bottles with vegetables plastered on the label and chucks them into the cart. No child likes vegetables and Jaebeom will be there to watch BamBam frown at his mushy meal. He pushes the cart down the stands full of snacks, snagging a few of the dry ones in case the feast of brussel sprouts and broccoli puree is too disgusting even for BamBam and he refuses to eat. Jaebeom doesn’t want the kid to starve, at least. 

He exits the food aisle to wander down a path full of books. Jaebeom reads the spines in passing until a development book catches his interests. He skims through the pages, deeming this find a very valuable treasure, a baby bible if you will, and adds it to the cart as well. Jaebeom is at the end of the selves, looking left and right for Mark but only comes up empty. The dairy section isn’t that far from here, it shouldn't take him too long to grab a carton and return. Though this is Mark, Jaebeom remembers. He’s probably having a full-blown conversation with BamBam about what type of cow juice he’d like best, almond or two-percent. 

Jaebeom circles back around to the clothes section and browses the many different types of onesies available. There are ones with superhero designs and built-in capes. One had a little pocket in the front and when you pulled it done it would reveal a small white cat flashing a thumbs up. There was even a whole outfit with cheesy sayings such as Don’t look at me, that smell came from my Dad. Jaebeom scowls at the article of clothing in pure disgust because he can’t believe parents would dress their children in these things. He’d never dress BamBam in such a horrendous outfit, even if he’s a little monster. 

The onesie right next to it, however, was unworldly adorable. It was a bright pink piggy costume, furry and soft with ears and a button snout attached to the hoodie. There was even a swirly tail on the back for added piggy effect. 

Jaebeom held up the onesie at arm's length, imagining BamBam crawling around their apartment and imitating the little critter. He could practically see the kid blowing snot bubbles and snorting obnoxiously any chance he got. It brought a smile to Jaebeom’s face, but soon it disappeared when someone behind him cleared their throat. Jaebeom whipped around to find Mark and BamBam, both looking at him like they caught him in some sort of act. BamBam even giggled and pointed an accusing finger at him. 

“Whatcha got there?” Mark asks. He places the gallon of milk in the cart (it was almond) then tries to get a look at the outfit Jaebeom hid behind his back. 

“Nothing! I was looking at nothing.” Jaebeom tosses the onesie back on the display stand and goes to the front of the wagon. “Let’s go, I think we have everything we need.” Jaebeom pushes past them, cheeks warm at being caught, and heads for the checkout. 

He tries to ignore the spark of happiness that ignites in him when Mark subtly slips the piggy onesie in the cart when he thought Jaebeom wasn’t looking.

They barely made it to the self-checkout before Mark noticed the lack of baby wipes and announced he’ll be back. Jaebeom huffs next to the magazine stand and stays put. The wipes were right next to the diapers, Jaebeom doesn’t know how either one of them could miss it, though at the time BamBam was nibbling on his shirt and soaking it with slimy drool so he was a bit distracted as to what was and wasn’t being added to the wagon. 

As Jaebeom waits for his roommate (roommates? BamBam is technically living with them now) someone calls his name. Jaebeom turns his head to the left and is instantly rendered with fear. 

“Jaebeom-hyung!” Jinyoung hollers. He walks over with a cart full of what seems to be a last-minute dinner, totally unaware of how badly Jaebeom doesn’t want to see him. 

“H-hey, Jinyoung,” Jaebeom stutters. “Didn’t expect to see you here so late.”

Jinyoung chuckles. “Same goes for you. Jackson was craving dumplings but wanted to make them himself. Something about how most restaurants get the proportions wrong.” 

Jaebeom hums in acknowledgment. On any other day, he’d be happy to see his childhood best friend. They barely have time to hang out anymore ever since Jinyoung got a job at a publishing company, so really, any amount of time spent together is appreciated. 

Except now, when Jaebeom so desperately wants to escape his presence before he notices the— 

“Hyung,” Jinyoung begins, eyes scanning the contents of Jaebeom’s cart. The elder feels his blood run cold when Jinyoung reaches for a pack of sippy-cups. “What’s all this stuff?”

“Oh—um, w-well you see,” Jaebeom coughs into his fist and tries to formulate a plan, think of an excuse as to why he, a painfully single guy, is buying heaps of baby supplies. None comes to mind so Jaebeom internally starts to panic.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Jinyoung voice is as tight as Jaebeom’s nerves, “then I would assume you’re buying this for a—”

“Baby!” 

Both men whip their heads to the side to find Jackson with an excited smile on his face, pointing to something ahead of him. He almost drops the bag of packaged meat in his hand to rush forward, squealing too loudly in a nearly empty store. Jaebeom dreadfully turns and spots Mark, who is just as shocked as he is, trying to fend off Jackson from snatching BamBam. 

“Hyung,” Jinyoung says in that tone, the one specially reserved for Jaebeom when he fucks up beyond repair. Jaebeom shrinks in on himself, prays the floor would open and swallows him whole when Jinyoung fixes him with a hard stare. “Care to explain?”

Jaebeom shakes his head. “No. Not really.” 

Jinyoung only smiles at him and Jaebeom finally accepts his death. “Well, too bad, because I’d love to hear it.”

Even after explaining it to both Jackson and Jinyoung, Jaebeom himself still can’t believe what the night bought him. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jinyoung says. He’s holding a finger up to stop Jaebeom’s explanation like he’s having a hard time processing Mark’s unforeseeable actions. He’s seen Mark in action back in college, this shouldn’t be as shocking as the other shenanigans he’s been in. But it is, and rightfully so. “You took him from a foster home? ”

“It was cold and I didn’t want him to freeze!” Mark defends. He’s on the floor with Jackson and BamBam, playing with one of the kid’s new toys. Though, from how Jackson is intently matching each shape to its same-sized home without even asking BamBam if he wanted to try, the adults are more into the toys than the child is. “You would’ve done the same, Nyoung.”

Jinyoung is quiet because he knows it’s true. Jaebeom chuckles at him then soon shuts up when the younger glares at him. “Be that as it may, you can’t keep him.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Jaebeom pipes up.

“Aww, c’mon, look at him,” Jackson coos. He’s finished his matching game and is now handing BamBam a dry snack. “He already likes it here.”

“And that’s what I’ve been saying,” Mark retorts. 

It’s been over three hours since BamBam has become a resident in their humble abode and within that time frame, he’s already puked on the couch, smeared carrot puree into the carpet, and captured not only Mark’s affections but Jackson’s as well. Granted, Jackson was already gone for BamBam since he met him at the store, and, from the tender looks Jinyoung kept shooting his way, BamBam’s well on his way to capturing another. 

It’s the eyes. Jaebeom is convinced it’s the eyes. 

“What are you going to do about work?” Jaebeom asks. “We both can’t take time off so soon to take care of him.” 

Mark raises an eyebrow. “Beomie, did you forget that I own the restaurant? I can take off as much time as I want.”

“Your dad owns the restaurant,” Jaebeom corrects. “How will you explain this situation to him? You can’t just march up to him and say, ‘Dad, I need a vacation because I found a baby on the street and I need to stay home.’ That’s crazy!” 

“It’s fine.” Mark nonchalantly waved a hand in the air like telling his dad he’s a father merely a day after leaving work is normal. Maybe it is if their lives were some sort of weird comedy sitcom. “He’s already a grandpa. I bet he’ll love BamBam too.”

Jaebeom groaned then flops face-first into the couch cushions. The two on the floor don’t pay him any mind, too busy with watching how many banana crackers BamBam can fit in his mouth, while Jinyoung just gave him a look of pity. He grabbed Jaebeom’s arm and hauled him to the kitchen to hold his shoulders and give them a good shake. 

“Hyung, I know you love him, but you need to think about yourself."

Love? Jaebeom doesn’t love Mark. He’s just extremely infatuated with him, that’s all. Infatuation. Not love. Yeah. 

“Think about how raising a child will affect you,” Jinyoung continues. “Kids don’t like you—”

 “Can everyone stop reminding me?” 

“—and you’re a full-time teacher. You can’t take BamBam to class with you when Mark’s busy. A dance studio is no place for a child.” Jinyoung releases Jaebeom’s shoulders and sighs. “Just...don’t let this thing get too far, okay?” 

Too far? Jaebeom’s already neck-deep in this whole situation! He can’t deny Mark’s brimming affection for the kid. There’s no way in hell Mark is going to willingly give up BamBam now. The boy hasn’t even been a part of their lives for a day yet he’s already burrowed himself deep in Mark’s heart. Again, Jaebeom is blaming it on the eyes. 

“Yeah,” Jaebeom agrees. “Yeah, I won’t. Don’t worry about it.” 

Jinyoung eyes him wearily before calling for Jackson and saying how they need to get home before the food in the car gets warm. Jackson stands then picks up BamBam from the floor and cradles him to his chest. 

“Bye, little buddy. Uncle Jackson will come to visit you soon!” BamBam happily gurgles at him and makes grabby hands towards his face. He even blows a snot bubble much to Jackson’s delight. “Jinyoungie did you see that? He likes me!”

“Yes, dear. I bet he adores you.” Jinyoung walks over to his boyfriend and peers down at the child. His eyes glaze over with endearment when BamBam stares back then gives him a gummy smile. At that moment, Jaebeom can practically see Jinyoung’s heart leap right into BamBam’s awaiting palm. “Sseun-ah,” he says. 

Jackson glances at him. “Yeah?” 

Jinyoung is still staring at BamBam like he’s Newton’s discovery when he utters, “I want one.” 

Jackson squeaks. He and Jinyoung share a quick look then he turns to Mark. “Hyung, can we—”

“No, he’s mine!” Mark is vaulting himself over the couch faster than a bunny to seize BamBam back into his arms. 

The couple frown, both of them. Jinyoung faces Jaebeom only to receive a scowl of disappointment. Don’t let this thing get too far, Jinyoung said. Think about yourself, he said. They can’t keep him, he said. Jaebeom should’ve known he wouldn’t have lasted too long without contracting baby fever. Damn hypocrite.

Jaebeom shows them out but not without them (again, both of them) waving goodbye to BamBam like they won’t see him next week because Mark made dinner plans to introduce BamBam to their dysfunctional family of six. He’s already claiming BamBam as his, it’s only a matter of time before Mark fully commits himself to parenthood. 

The older man settles BamBam on his playmat and makes sure he’s content before going to the pile of boxes in the corner. Mark starts unpacking the highchair then the walker. He takes BamBam’s stash of baby food into the kitchen to place on his own respectful shelf along with the baby formula and snack containers. Mark places the colorful feeding bottles and sippy-cups on the counter, right next to his and Jaebeom’s coffee mugs. 

“Hey, Beom, where should I set this up?” Mark asks when he returns to the living room and pulls out the new crib from its confinements. 

Jaebeom can only stare at Mark in horror as he realizes that they have nowhere to keep a baby, no nursery to fill all the stuff they bought with. The house isn’t baby-proofed, they didn’t even buy any baby-proofing gadgets to begin with. They’re just two less than functional adults who are way in over their heads. Jaebeom can’t believe he agreed to do this.

“Mark-hyung,” Jaebeom says. “We can’t do this.”

Mark cocks his head to the side, bewildered. “Why not?” 

“We’re not fit to raise a child.” Jaebeom’s voice quivers with the weight of their situation. “Hyung, we’re two guys with jobs and lives to live. We’d be neglecting BamBam if we leave him with someone while we’re at work. It’s too much of a responsibility to care for him. We should take him back to the foster house tomorrow.” 

Mark leaves the corner of boxes to gather Jaebeom in his arms. This isn’t a new feeling, being pressed to Mark’s strong chest or feeling his warm breath near Jaebeom’s ear. They’ve hugged before, even slept in the same bed once, so it shouldn’t be a surprise for Mark to comfort him in a way he knows will calm Jaebeom instantly. 

What is new, however, is how Mark nuzzled his neck soothingly like he’s trying to scrub all of Jaebeom’s worries away. BamBam babbles off to their right, joyfully unaware of the horde of butterflies invading Jaebeom’s stomach. Jaebeom catches a glimpse of him slipping a square into its same shaped hole before Mark pulls back to lock eyes with him. 

“We’ll be fine, Beom-ah,” Mark says, voice unusually gentle. “It’s all going to be fine.” 

“Hyung, we shouldn’t do this. It’s all too much.” 

“It’s only for a while, remember?” Mark’s small, consoling smile doesn’t reach his eyes and Jaebeom feels a bout of guilt replace the butterflies. “Besides, when have I not been too much?”

Jaebeom laughs at that though it comes out more like a puff of air through his nose than a real chuckle. “The only time you’re not giving me a headache is when you’re sleeping.”

“Ah, then I need to up my game. If I’m not annoying you even while I sleep then my skills are weak.” They share a quick snicker, a real one this time, then Mark releases him and goes back to the crib. “I’ll put this in my room. Let me just move a few things around.” 

“Okay,” Jaebeom whispers. He sighs then plops back down on the couch to stare at BamBam who’s already looking at him. The boy has a blue triangle in his hand and before he can even see it coming, the plastic projectile is already aimed for Jaebeom’s head. It doesn’t hurt, maybe stings a little on impact, but not enough to do any real damage. He glares at the toddler who’s giggling up a storm. His mirthful smile is hidden behind chubby fingers and before Jaebeom could do anything about the little menace, Mark returns to pick him up by the armpits and hover him over his face. 

“I think someone needs a bath,” he says, voice bubbly and upbeat. BamBam makes a happy sound and kicks his feet in the air, giggles booming when Mark smacks a loud kiss on his cheek. 

This is another new feeling: the slight flutter of his heart as Jaebeom watches the two nuzzle their noses together in contentment. Mark smiles at BamBam like the kid is an angel sent from above. BamBam cradles Mark’s face like he’s his savor. 

Something in Jaebeom shifts. He can physically feel his heart loosen from beneath his ribs to follow Mark and BamBam into the bathroom.

Damn hypocrite. 

BamBam’s first night in the apartment wasn’t all that bad. 

Surprisingly, he’s an easy baby. He went to bed after Mark fed him a bottle of formula and didn’t stir throughout the night, even when Jaebeom was moving his things around the living room and dropped a heavy box on his foot which resulted in a few curses on his end. BamBam only scrunched his nose and resumed his slumber. He slept in Mark’s room in his newly built crib, but it seemed like both of them couldn’t go without one another because when Jaebeom woke up in the morning and tiptoed to check on BamBam, he found the boy snoring on Mark’s chest, both of them sporting trails of drool. 

It was adorable. 

Jaebeom stood in the doorway of his friend's room, watching their chests rise and fall in unison. He doesn't know how long he watched them sleep before BamBam tried to roll over. Jaebeom rushed to the bedside and caught him before he could tumble to the floor. BamBam squirmed in his hold then opened his eyes and it appears like Jaebeom wasn’t the first person he wanted to see in the morning because not even five seconds later did he start wailing to kingdom come. 

Mark woke up with a sharp jolt, flailing a little before he regained his bearings and spotted Jaebeom trying to wrestle BamBam into a comfortable position. 

“Mornin’,” he greeted, voice heavy with sleep. Jaebeom tried to ignore how Mark’s raspy tone sent a shiver down his spine in favor of uprighting BamBam. Mark chuckled then opened his arms and Jaebeom was more than happy to hand him off. “Morning, little guy. Did you have a nice sleep?”

And just like that, BamBam stopped. Jaebeom stood in wonder at Mark’s baby superpower as he nuzzled their noses together. His bed head was disastrous, sticking up in the front and on the side while his fringe lay flat on his forehead. Mark looked like a rejected Super Saiyan with BamBam and his little tufts of hair not too far behind. Both of their morning breaths were rancid so you can’t blame Jaebeom for putting a good couple feet of distance between the three of them.

“Why’d you make him cry so early in the morning, Beom-ah?” Mark teased. “I could’ve finished my dream.”

Jaebeom scoffed, mildly offended. “Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe I should’ve let the kid faceplant on the floor.” 

“I’m glad you didn’t. I don’t think we have bandaids for a booboo, do we Bammie? No, we don’t. No, we don’t.” Mark spoke to the boy in an animated voice like some sort of cheesy cartoon. It was disgustingly cute, Jaebeom admits. 

“I have class in two hours,” the younger man says. “I can help you make breakfast before I go.”

Both of them looked at Jaebeom, Mark wearing a soft smile and BamBam appearing indifferent. He’s probably plotting Jaebeom’s murder again because he was so rudely awakened by his face. Jaebeom takes back his earlier statement. He’s very much offended. 

Breakfast went smoothly without any homicides or plastic triangles thrown Jaebeom’s way. He whipped up a quick batch of scrambled eggs for him and Mark while the elder tried to assemble BamBam’s highchair. It was an interesting sight to witness, Mark on the floor with pieces of legs and a small table scattered around him. BamBam sat on the kitchen island, nibbling on a cracker as he also watched Mark struggle to build the chair. 

“This is ridiculous,” Mark complained. “Jaebeom, switch with me.”

“What? No, I’m cooking.”

“Nope, I tapped out.” Mark sprang from the floor to pat Jaebeom’s shoulder then shoved him away from the stove. “Besides, you always burn the eggs.” 

For the second time that morning, Jaebeom was highly insulted. It wasn’t nine o'clock yet and he'd been reduced to a verbal punching bag! If Mark wasn’t so annoyingly handsome, Jaebeom would’ve decked him. 

BamBam giggles from the countertop as Jaebeom plops to the floor and begins building the plastic monstrosity. It wasn’t that hard. He finished by the time Mark plated the eggs and handed him a slice of toast. He wore a triumphant smile on his lips when Mark stared at the newly constructed highchair.

“How’d you do that?” 

“By reading the instructions.”

Mark rolls his eyes as he transfers BamBam into his chair. “Instructions are for people who follow the rules.”

“That explains so much about you.” 

“I can hardly be explained, Beomie.” Mark winks at him and Jaebeom feels his cheeks gain some heat. He grumbles something about how Mark never followed the rules back in college as he shoved toast in his mouth. 

BamBam let out a flurry of happy gurgles when Mark sat down and began feeding him his breakfast of pea mush. Mark would pretend the spoon was an airplane and make it zoom through the air then land in BamBam’s waiting mouth. The kid enthusiastically slurped each spoonful accompanied by a few banging fists on his small food tray, a clear indication of more food if Jaebeom ever saw one.

“He really likes this stuff. How’d you know he liked vegetables?”

“I didn’t. I just grabbed anything I thought he’d dislike because he seems to dislike me,” Jaebeom said in all blunt honesty. 

“He does like you!” Mark countered. “Don’t you, Bammie? You like Uncle Jaebeom, right?”

BamBam looked at him with peas smudged on his face and blew a very loud, very wet raspberry.

Jaebeom faces Mark with a deadpan stare. “Oh, yeah. He loves me.” He wipes some stray spittle off his cheek then chugs down his cup of coffee. “I need to get to work. I’ll be back this afternoon.” 

Jaebeom puts his dishes in the sink and goes to retrieve his bag. He makes it to the threshold and as he slips on his shoes, Mark rounds the corner with BamBam propped on his side. 

“You forgot something,” he says. 

Jaebeom furrows his brows. He double-checks his pockets for his keys and phone; peeks into his bag to find all his belongings are in order and nothing is out of place. “No, I didn’t. I have everything.”

“No, you don’t,” Mark sing-songs. “You forgot your kiss goodbye.”

Jaebeom goes rigged. Did he hear that right? A kiss goodbye? From Mark? No. There’s no way Mark would do that. That type of affection is reserved for couples, not two roommates who’ve known each other since they were 20. Jaebeom is about to brush off his comment as a joke when Mark steps forward. Jaebeom’s heart is pounding in his ears, it’s the only sound he can hear as Mark leans closer to him and— 

“Oh.” 

BamBam stares at Jaebeom like he doesn’t want to be in this situation either. Both of them look at Mark who responds with a little nudge forward. “Go on,” he insists. “Kiss BamBam goodbye.”

“Hyung, I’m not kissing him.”    

“Kiss the baby, Jaebeom.”

“I don’t want to.”

Mark huffs then suspends BamBam in the air at arm's length. The boy stares at Jaebeom with pure disgust. He kicks his feet and whines but Mark doesn’t budge. He motions for Jaebeom to do as told, he even pulled the puppy eyes on him and Jaebeom, who’s so far gone for the puppy eyes, doesn’t know how he could refuse.

“Ugh, fine,” Jaebeom says. Mark nods his head enthusiastically—a little too happy to watch Jaebeom lean forward and plant a quick kiss on BamBam’s head. He slowly pulls back, deeming that experience as a semi-pleasant one, until BamBam burped and the air wafted straight into Jaebeom’s nose. 

“See? Was that so hard?”

Jaebeom waves away the smell of peas and orange juice. “Yes, it was. You might want to watch out. That burp sounded like he—”

It was too late. BamBam burped again then spewed a horrific green mixture over himself and Jaebeom’s shoes. Mark swore loudly as he cradled the now crying child. He rushed to the kitchen to grab a cloth and wiped his mouth to soothe him. He shot Jaebeom an apologetic look as he calmed BamBam down. 

“Well, look on the bright side!” Mark gestured to the mess on the floor. “You wanted to buy new shoes, right?”

Jaebeom stood on the threshold of his apartment with green and orange splattered over his feet, wishing he had a plastic triangle in his hand. 

The coming days after BamBam’s arrival wasn’t the worst thing Jaebeom ever experienced. It wasn’t nice either, though, under their circumstances, it was bearable. 

Whenever Jaebeom didn’t have a class, he’d stay home and watch BamBam while Mark went to the restaurant. Neither he nor the child seemed too happy about being in each other’s presence for God knew how long. At first, it was a nightmare. BamBam would cry and screech until Jaebeom gave him what he wanted, which was either that stuffed toy snake that he can’t sleep without or a bottle of formula. Or two. Or three. 

He was amazed at how many bottles this kid could drink within a day. Mark said he was overfeeding him one night when he came home from work, claiming he’ll be a BamBam Butterball by the time he’s a year old. 

That quipped Jaebeom’s interest because they don’t know BamBam’s age. They don’t even know his birthdate. When he voiced his discovery to Mark, his solution was to count the day he found him as BamBam’s birthday. 

“Hyung, I don’t think that’ll work,” Jaebeom said. 

“Why not? We don’t have to tell him we found him on the street—”

“ You found him, Mark-hyung.” 

“—so let’s just worry about that when he’s older.”

When he’s older.

Jaebeom didn’t want to acknowledge the weight of his words. Mark already introduced BamBam to their friends and family. He spends every waking moment with him when he’s not at work. He didn’t even correct Youngjae when he showed up to the apartment to visit and bought a mug that read “WORLDS BEST DAD” in big letters.

Jaebeom was afraid of him getting too attached. He knew that when the day they have to give up BamBam comes around, Mark would raise hell to keep that child. It’s admirable, is what Jaebeom thinks. But it’s also terrifying. Terrifying in a sense that within a week of BamBam staying with them, Jaebeom has gotten used to having him around. 

The first time he changed the baby’s diaper on autopilot while watching his weekly drama shook him so badly that he needed to turn off the TV. BamBam merely stared at him, probably wondering why Jaebeom looked so distraught over something simple as wiping his butt. He gave him a cracker with his little hands coated in drool and Jaebeom was alarmed when he felt an all too familiar feeling of affection wash over him. 

(He should know what that feels like. He experiences it anytime Mark’s around.)

“BamBam, no. That doesn’t go in your mouth,” Jaebeom scolds one day when it was just them in the apartment. They’re sitting on the floor surrounded by blocks and colorful little trinkets to keep both of them entertained. BamBam was playing with a toy phone when he tried to eat the red antenna protruding from the top. Jaebeom had to pry it from his sausage fingers which only made him emit something that was a borderline growl. He didn’t even know babies could growl. 

As BamBam fiddles with his toys, Jaebeom skims through the baby development book he found in Mark’s room. He decided that it might give them a few answers so reading through might not be so bad. Except it was difficult to read and keep an eye on the kid at the same time because BamBam feeds off attention like Tinker Bell and if he isn’t called cute or cooed at every five minutes then he does that baby growl until Jaebeom stares at him to stop. 

BamBam can sit up on his own and rolls around the floor so he’s probably older than five months according to the book. He can chew and eat solid foods just fine so Jaebeom assumes that he’s six months old. The book says that at that age babies can respond to their own names. 

“BamBam,” Jaebeom calls. 

BamBam looks back at him and beams, babbles happily, and reaches for Jaebeom’s hand. Jaebeom feels his chest lighten, excitement courses through his body when BamBam tries to crawl towards him, but crawling is a nine-month-old accomplishment so he just lays on his stomach and rocks. 

“BamBam,” he says again in an attempt to rule out eight months. “BamBam, can you say ‘Beom’?” 

BamBam can only stare at him with a dopey grin. He tries to creep forward and farts in the process then gurgles at Jaebeom, almost like he’s asking Did you see me? Wasn’t that cool?

 “I’ll take that as a no, then.”

BamBam blows a raspberry then plops to his stomach. He rolls to his side, grabs his toy snake, then uprights himself again. He motions for the green plushie then resumes the position on his belly. 

It clicks for Jaebeom moments later. “No. I’m not doing that.” 

BamBam growls again. He slams a chubby hand on the floor and glares.

“No.”

Another growl. BamBam even babbled something in baby language, probably his way of cursing Jaebeom out. He continued to glower until his lip began to quiver. Jaebeom saw the signs of a fit, red face, puffed cheeks, a hand reaching for anything throwable. The spot where the Triangle of Death struck him throbbed. 

“Fine!” He exclaimed. Jaebeom moved to his stomach and laid in front of BamBam. “There, happy now?”

The boy giggled, clearly satisfied with getting his way. He tugged his snake towards Jaebeom’s face, felt tongue tickling his nose, then stuck his own tongue out in imitation. 

Jaebeom did the same. 

BamBam made a noise between a laugh and a gurgle. He propped himself up on his hands and knees and watched as Jaebeom copied him. His excitement increased whenever he'd do an action and wait for Jaebeom to follow. He was having fun playing Copy Cat, Jaebeom was too if his wide smile had anything to say for it. They played until BamBam blew a snot bubble and stared at Jaebeom to reciprocate his skill. 

“I can’t do that,” he said. “I can do this though.” He returned to his belly and brought his hands in front of him, then used his knees to push off the floor. Jaebeom hissed as he moved across the living room, imitating the toy snake and making BamBam squeal in delight. 

The boy began to follow him, propelling himself in Jaebeom’s direction and blowing raspberries as his attempts of hissing. It wasn’t crawling, more like scooching, so the kid couldn’t go very far, which left Jaebeom to slither across the floor as BamBam watched. He happily shrieked whenever Jaebeom crawled closer to him, his nose scrunched when Jaebeom pushed forward until they were face to face. BamBam still giggled as he leaned to bump their foreheads together, causing warmth to erupt in Jaebeom’s chest upon contact. 

BamBam doesn't normally like Jaebeom holding him, he'd either scratch or kick until Mark shows up to the rescue then he turns into a cuddly kitten, nudging Mark’s neck and emitting some sort of purring sound. Jaebeom has never been on the receiving end of BamBam’s affection unless he counts the time he was changing the kid’s diaper and the boy showed him his imitation of a fountain. BamBam wore a triumphant grin as he pissed all over Jaebeom while Mark tried to justify his actions as a form of friendship.

It was ridiculous and smelly and gross but afterward, when Mark ran to the store and left them alone, BamBam made peace by handing Jaebeom a cookie. 

“This isn’t an apology,” he said. “I’m still mad at you.” 

“Blah blah, pbbbbbbt!” BamBam responded. 

They shared the cookie in the end. 

So by BamBam bumping their heads together and smearing what Jaebeom can assume is a sloppy kiss on his cheek, he doesn’t know what to feel. Endearment comes to mind—makes Jaebeom desire to hold BamBam against him and never let him out into the world where he could get hurt—then that idea leaves just as quickly when the looming thought of don’t get attached rears its ugly head. 

We can’t keep him. Jaebeom reminds himself. This is only temporary.  

BamBam resumes his attack via baby spit and even though Jaebeom is mildly disgusted by it, he doesn’t want it to stop. He counters by placing his own haphazard kisses across BamBam’s face. The boy joyfully wails which in turn makes Jaebeom smother him, totally unaware of the figure standing behind the couch.

“I wish I had a camera,” Mark says, scaring both of them so badly they slam their heads together.

“H-hyung!” Jaebeom scrambles upright. BamBam growls at him when he’s out of reach, unhappy with the lack of affection. “How l-long have you been s-standing there?”

“Not long.” Mark has that grin that means I saw the whole thing. “You two were so cute.”

Jaebeom feels his face grow warm. “No, we weren’t. He was trying to poison me.”

“With kisses?”

“With kisses.” 

Mark snorts. “That’s not a bad way to go. I don’t know who I would rather have been my killer.” Once the words were out of his mouth, Mark turned into a red tomato. “I mean, um, I wouldn’t mind if it was Bam. But if you wanted to do the honors then I’d let you. Wait, no—that sounds weird. Does that sound weird? I don’t want it to be—” Mark is cut off from his mindless rambles when Jaebeom rolls to the side and chucks a bouncy ball in his direction. 

“Hyung.”

“Yes?”

“Stop talking.”

“Okay.” 

Both of their faces are burning hot and Jaebeom doesn’t want to overheat. It’s embarrassing enough to think he’d get a kiss from Mark the first morning of BamBam’s stay and now he’s saying he wouldn’t mind it if they did. Granted Mark also implied he would let Jaebeom kill him, but the moment, if you can even call what they were having a moment, is dead so Jaebeom would like to save some of his dignity. 

The younger man clears his throat then stands. “It’s my turn to make dinner tonight. Can you watch BamBam?”

Mark smiles. “Sure. You’ve been hogging BamBam anyways.”

“Not by choice, hyung,” Jaebeom reminds him. “He still doesn’t like me.”

“Then what was that little act earlier?” Mark smirks because he knew he caught Jaebeom right where he wanted him.

“An act of self-defense,” Jaebeom replies. Mark only hums then drops the conversation in favor of sitting next to BamBam and plopping him in his lap. The boy squawks upon the attentiveness and starts babbling away. Mark nods his head and answers when it seems appropriate which BamBam takes as a sign to continue. 

Jaebeom watches how they play together so easily, how Mark can make BamBam giggle effortlessly, how they make it look so natural. Jaebeom knew Mark would be an amazing father one day, he was convinced the second day after BamBam’s arrival, but knowing that Mark won’t be able to exercise his fatherly skills once BamBam’s gone leaves a bitter taste in Jaebeom’s mouth. 

We can’t keep him. Jaebeom repeats like a mantra. This is only temporary.

What if it doesn’t have to be? Is the thought that materializes as Jaebeom watches the two, then it leaves just as quickly, exactly like all the others.

It’s three weeks when Jaebeom experiences the infamous BamBam Tantrum. 

He’s heard about it from Mark, how BamBam would wail so loud that a small patch on his forehead would turn cherry red. His voice would reach insanely high pitches that only dogs could recognize. He even flung his arms in anger so hard that when Mark tried to calm him down, his nose was in range and the next thing he knew, blood was dripping onto his shirt. 

Jaebeom was grateful he wasn’t home to witness that spectacle because he’s sure he would’ve screamed right back at the child. Mark can only handle so much and two screeching banshees wouldn’t have been good for his health. 

Which is why fear strikes through Jaebeom when Mark shows up at his dance academy with BamBam sleeping in his stroller and an apologetic look on his face. 

“There was a fire at the restaurant and I need to check on the place,” he explains. “I can’t bring Bammie.”

“Then call Jackson to babysit,” Jaebeom hisses. His students are eavesdropping on them, pretending to be busy with warm-ups but Jaebeom can tell they’re straining their ears to hear everything. “Hyung, I have back to back classes today. I can’t watch him.”

“C’mon, Beom! You were the one who said we’d be neglecting him if someone else does our job.” Mark pulls out the puppy eyes and— 

“Shit, fine,” Jaebeom growls. Mark visibly relaxes then passes off the stroller and baby bag.

“He has extra clothes and two bottles already made. He just fell asleep on our way here so he should be fine for a few hours if the music isn’t too loud.”

“This is a dance class, hyung. The music has to be loud.”

Mark shrugs. “Just turn it down so he doesn’t wake up. Thanks, Jaebeom.” Mark gathers Jaebeom in his arms and plants a quick kiss on his cheek. He detaches himself from the younger man before Jaebeom could even register why his face is on fire then bolts to the exit. “I’ll meet you guys at home!” Mark hastily calls. He pushes past the doors and sprints away. 

Jaebeom is running on autopilot as he takes BamBam to a secluded area in the room and drops the bag to the floor. His students are still watching him as he crouches down, acts like he’s checking on the child, though really he’s burying his blazing face in his hands. He tells himself the peck was just an act of gratitude so he can calm his racing heart. 

Someone behind him clears their throat. “Sonseangnim? Are you okay?”

Jaebeom wants to say no, but what comes out of his mouth is a strangled, “Yeah, never better.” He straightens up and faces Hyunjin, one of the best dancers in his class, and gives him a forced smile. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Fortunately, his first class goes by uninterrupted. Jaebeom knew BamBam could sleep through most things, even snored through one of Mark and Youngjae’s gaming nights (which is very impressive), so the music wasn’t an issue for him. His students, however, are nosey bastards so they wouldn’t stop badgering Jaebeom about BamBam and his supposedly secret lover.

“You never told us you had a boyfriend, Jaebeom-sonseagnim,” said Yeji, Hyunjin’s little sister.  

“Yeah! Or that you had a son! He’s so cute,” cooed Yunho. He’s peering down into the stroller, making literal heart-eyes at BamBam’s sleeping form. 

Turns out Jaebeom’s blush is a permanent feature on his face because it won’t go away. “Mark-hyung isn’t my boyfriend. And BamBam isn’t our son, he’s, um—my n-nephew.”  

His students don’t buy it but Jaebeom is too tired of their interrogation to come up with anything else. He barks at them to get out of his studio before he makes them mop the floor. They merely laugh and wave goodbye, conversing amongst themselves on how long Jaebeom has been keeping them in the dark about his little family.

He sighs when the kids leave then leans against the wall and slides to the floor. Jaebeom is mentally preparing himself for his next class when he hears a sniffle from the stroller. 

“Hey, buddy,” Jaebeom murmurs. He carefully scoots closer to BamBam, mindful to keep him calm in a new environment. BamBam yawns and rubs the sleep out of his eye as he finally takes in his surroundings. “Hey, Bammie. Jaebeom’s here, it’s okay.”

BamBam stares at him and for a moment he was fine—then that moment ended. 

He emits a cry so blood-curdling Jaebeom is surprised it didn’t shatter the glass mirrors. He scrambles to BamBam’s side and unbuckles him from his confinement. “No, no, no. It’s fine Bam-ah. Don’t cry, please don’t cry.” 

He bounces the boy in an attempt to soothe him to no avail, BamBam’s still screaming his lungs off when the doors open and Jaebeom spots Yugyeom poking his head inside. 

“Hyung! What’s BamBam doing here?” He questions. He rushes to Jaebeom’s side and peers down at the crying child. “Make him stop! I could hear him from four rooms down!”

“I’m trying! Look in his bag for a bottle!” Jaebeom orders. The younger boy dive-bombs for the bag and fishes out everything but a bottle. “Hurry, Gyeom!”

“I got it!” He triumphantly holds up the formula then tosses it into Jaebeom’s waiting hand.

“Shhhh, it’s okay, baby. It’s okay,” Jaebeom soothes as he brings the nipple to BamBam’s mouth. He latches on for a few seconds, enough time for both boys to breathe, then spits it out to resume his wailing. He fails his arms in Jaebeom’s hold, thrashes wildly against his chest until he turns beet red. The small patch on his forehead flares. “No, BamBam, it’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

“It’s not fine!” Yugyeom says through clenched teeth. “Why’s he crying? Was it your face again?”

“Shut up, Gyeom! Your face doesn't make it any better either.” Jaebeom rocks back and forth and pats BamBam’s back like how he’s seen Mark do countless times, yet the child can’t be pacified. Jaebeom crouches down to dig through the bag in hopes of finding the toy snake. He comes up empty and Jaebeom can feel dread replace his frustration. That plushie is the one thing that can calm BamBam down instantly (besides Mark himself) and it’s not here. Great. Just great. 

And when Jaebeom thinks it couldn’t get any worse than a howling child making one of his ears to go deaf, the doors to the studio bursts open, and his second batch of students come flooding in. Their initial reaction is shocked, which is to be expected since they also didn't know BamBam existed, and next came the pleas to shut the boy up. 

“Jaebeom-sonseangnim, make your son stop!” Jisung yells. “I think my ears are bleeding!”

Jaebeom’s only response is, “He’s not my son!” then a more high-pitched, “Don’t you think I’m trying?” 

BamBam soon began to choke on his sobs. Each breath is labored and his voice sounds raw, he coughs into Jaebeom’s chest and pounds his tiny fists against his collarbones in retaliation. A cold sweat breaks over BamBam’s skin, beads at his forehead, making Jaebeom’s fear skyrocket. He needs to take BamBam home, now .

Jaebeom faces Yugyeom with pleading eyes. “Yugie—can you please cover—”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it.” Yugyeom sends him a reassuring thumbs-up and Jaebeom has never been more grateful for the giant pain-in-the-ass. He grabs the bag on the floor and hands it off to his friend. “You owe me, though. Big time.”

Jaebeom enthusiastically nods. “Yeah, whatever you want.” The elder quickly straps the child back in the stroller, slings the bag over his shoulder, and is racing for the exit. “Thanks, Gyeomie!” 

Jaebeom couldn’t hear what Yugyeom called out to him because, by the time he pushed open the large double doors leading outside, he took off in the direction of home. 

Turns out home isn't what BamBam needed. It was a diaper change. 

When the pair arrived back at the apartment, Jaebeom immediately went to Mark’s room where all of BamBam’s belongings reside, and made quick work of replacing the full diaper. He slipped the child into a fresh onesie and grabbed a bottle from the nightstand in hopes of putting him down for another nap. It doesn’t work and Jaebeom feels irritation crawl up his throat. 

“You’re never like this with Mark-hyung. Why is it always me?” He asks. BamBam doesn’t answer anything helpful besides another wail of anguish. For some reason, Jaebeom understands perfectly and wholeheartedly agrees. 

They pace the floor together, rock back and forth to a point where Jaebeom grew slightly nauseous. BamBam still doesn’t calm down. He’s tired, Jaebeom can tell that much. He’s fighting sleep because something is bothering him. What that thing may be, Jaebeom doesn’t have a clue. He doesn’t know why a child wouldn’t want to sleep. Jaebeom loves naps, he takes at least one nap every day, so the thought of BamBam refusing one is unimaginable. He took a nap earlier so getting him back down should’ve been easy. 

It’s not. Not even a little bit. 

BamBam hiccups his sobs. They’re small, almost fragile like each one pains him. Jaebeom’s stomach twists as he realizes BamBam’s breathing hasn’t been normal since they left the dance studio. If he doesn’t calm down then something could happen and Jaebeom would never be able to forgive himself for it. 

Jaebeom tries the snake this time. He reaches for the toy on the bed and that’s when he sees it: a small music box on the nightstand. It looks old and a little damaged with its peeling white paint and chipped corners. Jaebeom picks it up then turns the bronze handle on the side to start the little contraption. A melody plays from the box, a sweet nursery rhyme he’s heard Mark hum to BamBam on his restless nights. It all clicks for Jaebeom seconds later and he quietly berates himself for not thinking of it sooner. 

Jaebeom shifts BamBam so he’s laying in his arms and begins to sing. 

“Hush, little baby don't say a word. 

Beomie’s gonna buy you a mockingbird. 

And if that mockingbird don't sing

Beomie’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.”  

For the first time in almost an hour, BamBam finally stops. His eyes are still red, face wet with tears, and forehead beaded with the smallest hint of sweat. The kid really worked himself into overdrive and now he’s reduced to quiet whimpers. Jaebeom knew his voice was decent, yet being able to calm a raging child from an Earth-shattering tantrum? Not to toot his own horn, but that’s pretty impressive. Maybe he’s even up to par with Mark’s caliber. 

BamBam whines a small sound in the back of his throat. Jaebeom wipes away his tears and lets the child curl his hand around his finger then resumes the song.

“And if that diamond ring turns brass,

Beomie’s gonna buy you a looking glass. 

And if that looking glass gets broke,

Beomie’s gonna buy you a billy goat.” 

BamBam yawns, he tightens his hand around Jaebeom’s finger and nuzzles his face into his chest. Jaebeom feels his heart take flight, soaring so high it floats amongst the clouds. Moments like these, when BamBam allows Jaebeom to care for him and reciprocates his affections is what gets him. Makes him want to protect the little tyke, makes him want to give BamBam everything he has to offer. The world. His heart. His life. It’s scary and exhilarating all at the same time. Though the one thing, the single most terrifying thing Jaebeom realized is that he never wants it to end. 

“And if that billy goat don’t pull,

Beomie’s gonna buy you a cart and bull. 

And if that cart and bull turn over,

Beomie’s gonna buy you a dog called Rover.” 

BamBam’s still awake, staring up at Jaebeom like he hung the stars in the sky. He doesn’t know how he could though, all the stars are in BamBam’s eyes. They’re small pools of cocoa brown, warm, inviting. When Jaebeom paces the room and the light of the setting sun shines across his face, BamBam’s irises turn golden, long eyelashes casting shadows over his cheeks. The mole on his left lid darkens.

Jaebeom melts when they look at each other. It’s the eyes. It’s always been the eyes. 

“And if that dog called Rover don’t bark,

Beomie’s gonna buy you a horse and cart.” 

The floorboards outside the room creak. Footsteps grow closer until there's a presence behind Jaebeom and then a weight on his back. Strong arms wrap around his middle, a chin rests on his shoulder, then they sway back and forth. Mark has always been quiet, the type to blend in amongst the crowd, yet with him here, breath on Jaebeom’s neck warm and slightly minty, heart wildly thumping against Jaebeom’s back, he’s the loudest thing in the room.

BamBam yawns once more. His eyes begin to droop, his chest rises and falls at a steady pace. As the three of them rock from side to side, Mark joins in on the last lines of the song and BamBam finally allows himself to sleep. 

“And if that horse and cart turn round,

You’ll still be the sweetest little babe in town. 

Still be the sweetest little babe in town.” 

Mark releases him so Jaebeom could place BamBam in his crib. The boy is snoring by the time Mark covers him with a blanket and the two of them escape into the living room. Jaebeom’s body still tingles from where Mark held him, small sparks shoot up his arms and neck when they both plop on the couch. Their knees touch and the sparks sizzle, pops in his bloodstream, races across his veins. Jaebeom feels like he’s about to burst. 

“How’s the restaurant?” He asks just to fill the silence.

“Still standing. The fire wasn't that bad, just burnt the countertops.” Mark rolled his neck and popped a few joints when he stretched then slouched back against the cushions. “How was Bammie? He only needs that song when he’s irritated.”

Jaebeom explains BamBam’s episode at the dance studio and how he refused his nap until Jaebeom sang him a lullaby. Mark pouted at him, rubbed his knee in comfort as an apology, and promised to give him a heads-up next time it happens.

“It’s fine,” Jaebeom assures, “though my students thought Bam was my son. God, it was so embarrassing when they started asking me why I kept him and you a secret for so long.”

The hand on Jaebeom’s knee stiffens. Mark’s eyebrows furrow “Me? Why’d they ask about me?”

“They thought you were my boyfriend.” Jaebeom can’t keep his blush in check. It reappears and he’s more than sure Mark sees it. “It was ridiculous. They’re just nosey.”

“I see why. I did kiss you before I left.” 

Jaebeom snorts. “That wasn’t a kiss, hyung. You just smashed your face against my cheek then ran.” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Mark shrugs. The hand on Jaebeom’s knee shifts, burns hot on his pants. “I’d kinda like our first kiss to be a bit more romantic.”

Now see, at times like these is when Jaebeom wants to get up and leave Mark the most. He can jump off a four-story frat house into a pool, catch a squirrel with his bare hands, and bring home a baby, for crying out loud! Jaebeom’s stuck with him through it all. Though when he says things that hold so much meaning, things that cause the butterflies in Jaebeom’s stomach to near explode, that’s when Jaebeom can’t stand him. 

“Hyung, don’t joke about things like that,” Jaebeom scolds. 

Mark looks down at his hand still on Jaebeom’s knee. He finally moves and Jaebeom has to resist the urge to pull him back. “It’s not a joke.”

Jaebeom blinks. “What?”

“It’s not a joke. I’d like to kiss you, like, all the time.” He looks serious, like when he’s playing a video game, and if his concentration is interrupted when he might crumble. “I like you, Jaebeom. A lot. I wasn’t planning on telling you this—and I probably never would have but, God, you make me do crazy things.” 

“Me?” Jaebeom gaps. 

“Yes, you. In college, I only did those stupid things to get your attention. You were so focused on school or work that I practically needed to jump off anything high enough for you to notice me.” Mark huffs out a feeble laugh. He faces Jaebeom and takes his hands in his like some cheesy rom-com confessional scene. Jaebeom doesn’t think he’s ever seen something sweeter. He probably has, but all his common sense and the ability to think about anything else except the fact that his palms are embarrassingly sweaty has left him. Mark looks into his eyes (exactly like a romcom) and says, “I know you probably never pictured this life with me. Shit, I didn’t see us raising a baby either, so I’m just as surprised as you are. But, Jaebeom, I like this little family we have. You, me, and BamBam. I like the life we’re living and how it’s normal for us.”

He’s right. Life is somehow good for them. It’s almost as if Jaebeom was meant to care for a child with Mark. It’s dangerous how comfortable he’s gotten. On several occasions, he’s found himself daydreaming about family outings. Dropping off BamBam on his first day of school. Watching him grow into a young man Jaebeom knows he’ll become if he stays under his and Mark’s care. He’s never voiced his thoughts, always banishing them away because he knew that they can’t keep BamBam. 

Though now, a significant variable has changed. Maybe this doesn’t have to be temporary after all.  

Mark rubs Jaebeom’s knuckles and continues. “I never would've thought I’d raise a child with you. I mean, it sounds hard. Kids don’t like you—”

“Really, hyung? You’re going to say that now? Right in the middle of professing your feelings?” Jaebeom squawks.

“Let me finish!” Mark pouts, an honest to God, full-on pout not even BamBam could accomplish. Jaebeom almost coos at him before he regains his bearings and picks up where he left off. “As I was saying. Kids don’t like you, and that’s okay because BamBam adores you. You should hear him at night, he calls out your name. Well, it’s more like he’s saying ‘bum’ than ‘Beom’ but he still does it. And what you did back there? I could never sing him to sleep.” Mark scoots closer until their knees touch again. He releases Jaebeom’s hands to cup his face in his palms, brushes his thumb over the twin moles above Jaebeom’s eye. The butterflies in his stomach are on fire now. “I want to live this life with you. With BamBam. I can’t imagine losing him or this weird family we’ve made.”

“Me too,” Jaebeom confesses. “I like it too.”

“You do?” Mark’s eyes sparkle. “You really do?”

Jaebeom nods and brings his hands up to cover Mark’s own. “Hyung, I love taking care of BamBam and you two seeing me off before work. I love waking up on weekends to see you cooking with Bam or dancing around the kitchen when you think I’m still sleeping. Mark-hyung, I love the life I’m living now because it has you and BamBam in it.” Mark’s crying now. Tears well up in his eyes but he’s smiling—smiling so big his canines show and he probably can’t tell that Jaebeom’s crying along with him. Jaebeom’s fingers interlaced with Mark’s, locking him in. “This is a little out of order. We haven’t been dating for more than five seconds—hell, hyung, we aren’t even married! We have a house together. We have a child. I can’t believe we skipped some of the most important milestones in our relationship. I can’t forgive you for that.”

Mark chuckles. He brings their foreheads together and any worries Jaebeom has ever had about Mark discovering his feelings and ruining their friendship vanishes. Jaebeom snakes his arms around Mark’s neck to pull him closer, leans back into the couch cushions until Mark is entirely draped over his body. 

“We’ve never really stuck to the rules, have we?” He asks. 

"You’ve never stuck to the rules. I, on the other hand, would like to follow them from now on.”

“Oh, yeah? So then what’s the next step?” Mark shifts, he nuzzles Jaebeom’s check, moves down to his neck, breaths a minty ghost across the younger’s throat. Jaebeom almost loses focus when Mark’s lips skim across the skin of his collarbone.

“The n-next step,” Jaebeom stutters, hand coming up to tangle in Mark’s hair. There’s a breathy sigh that neither knows who made when Mark starts leaving butterfly kisses along Jaebeom’s shoulder. “The next s-step is adoption.” 

Mark stops his assault to lift his head. He stares at Jaebeom, completely stunned. Jaebeom assumes he overstepped and put his foot in his mouth. Regret starts to crawl up his throat—then Mark’s surging forward with reckless abandon and now something entirely different is down Jaebeom’s throat, albeit very wet and quite surprising, Jaebeom accepts it wholeheartedly.

Mark kisses exactly how Jaebeom dreamed he would, not that he dreamt about it. Well, not all the time. It was mostly on the nights Jaebeom was convinced he’d only be known as the best friend and nothing more, though now with Mark kissing him like his life depended on, Jaebeom can agree that this is better than any fantasy. It starts off a bit rough and borderline feral, all fueled with fiery passion and a bit too much tongue, then morphs into a soft, sweet peck of lips.

“Yes, of course, a thousand times yes,” Mark says between kisses. He starts smiling against Jaebeon’s mouth when Jaebeom grips the front of his shirt and tugs him close. “I wanna adopt him. I want BamBam to be ours.” 

Jaebeom leans back and reciprocates his grin. “He’s already been ours.” 

Mark emits a noise that resembles that weird purring sound BamBam makes when he’s happy. It must be a normal thing in this house, because when Mark seals their lips again, Jaebeom sounds exactly the same. 

The next day, the three of them go to the courthouse. 

BamBam gurgles in his stroller, mouths at his snake without a care in the world. He’s totally oblivious to the distress the adults face mere minutes after arriving. 

“There’s no record of a Kunpimook Bhuwahul BamBam,” the woman behind the counter states.

“What?” Mark cocks his head to the side, bewildered. “No, check again.”

The woman does as told and the results are the same. She levels them with a hard stare. “Was he born in a hospital?” 

Mark starts to fidget. “I d-don’t know. We found him on a doorstep.”

“Is he of Korean descent?” 

Mark has lost the ability to speak. “No,” Jaebeom says for him. “He’s Thai.”

“A child born in Korea who has no relation to any legal citizen can’t stay here,” the woman says. “I’m sorry but the police have already been called.” 

Everything happens in a blur after that. Jaebeom can barely remember holding Mark back as two men in uniforms take BamBam away. He cries in his stroller, makes grabby hands towards them when the men pick him up and leave the building. BamBam is screaming something that sounds like “Beom” when the couple rush outside to watch him drive to God knows where. 

Afterward, they move in a daze throughout the day. Police interview them, ask them all kinds of questions Mark can barely answer. Jaebeom tries for both of them. Where are his parents? We don’t know. Why didn’t you contact the authorities? We didn’t want to. How long have you had him? Not long enough. 

They’re allowed to leave after almost six hours of interrogation. It’s only when they open the door and enter their house does the events crash over Jaebeom like a landslide. 

The living room is full of BamBam’s toys. His baby food is stashed in the fridge. The pile of clothes that Jaebeom took out of the dryer that morning before they left is still on the couch, heaps of shirts and socks and beanies spread out over the cushions. Jaebeom spots the bright piggy onesie peeking beneath BamBam’s blanket, he’s taken back to a few days prior when they finally slipped him into the outfit. Once he was in, he refused to come out. It took a cup of apple juice spilling over himself for Mark to wrangle him out and finally toss it in the wash. 

Jaebeom brings the soft felt up to his nose and takes a whiff. It smells like detergent, a hint of baby powder, and something that’s so distinctively BamBam that the tears never stood a chance. Jaebeom’s sobs echo across the seemingly empty apartment. He feels arms wrap around his shoulders then he clings to Mark while they brawl over their loss.

Jaebeom should be the one comforting him. Mark was more of a parent—more of a father to BamBam than Jaebeom ever was. He tried his damndest to at least be a good caregiver to him, but when Jaebeom looks back on it, thinks about all the times BamBam ensnared him in his orbit with his snot bubbles and large eyes, Jaebeom is sure that, deep down, he was never trying to be a caregiver. He wanted to have the same relationship BamBam had with Mark. Now, Jaebeom isn’t sure if that fantasy can become a reality. 

Another significant variable has changed for them, none for the better. 

That night, they fell asleep on the couch, clutching each other with tear-stained cheeks. The next day is worse. 

Mark makes the bottles in the morning. He stands in the kitchen, measuring spoonfuls of formula into BamBam’s favorite bottle. The blue one with airplanes on the side. He’s moving on autopilot, making breakfast with three bowls set on the counter. Two mugs sit near the sink, the one with WORLDS BEST DAD is untouched while the other is half empty. The sippy cup in the middle is also the one with planes on it. 

Jaebeom doesn’t have the heart to tell Mark to stop. He also can’t tell him that when he awoke, he immediately went to Mark’s room and found an empty crib. He cried once more while Mark was in the shower. 

Three more days passed with little improvement. Mark hasn’t left the house since the incident. His parents constantly call him but he doesn’t pick up so Jaebeom answers for him. They ask how he’s holding up and Jaebeom tells them that he’s fine. He’s never liked lying, especially to Mark’s mom, though he knows saying Mark is doing good when he’s not is better than telling her the truth. She tells Jaebeom to watch him, to make sure he doesn’t do anything rash, then hangs up. 

Jaebeom tries. He drags Mark to bed each night and holds him close, partly because he also needs it and mostly because he’s scared Mark might march out of the house and take BamBam back. Jaebeom won’t lie about this though: he’d be right behind Mark every step of the way. 

Jaebeom’s been doing okay. He called the dance studio and told them his partner is in no shape to be alone so he’s taking a few days off. Yugyeom must’ve told them what happened because they told him to take all the time he needs. Their friends try to make it better. Jackson and Jinyoung came over a few times, bought them dinner, and watched a movie. It helped for a little while until they left and it was just Mark, Jaebeom, and the toys they’ve yet to put away. 

Jaebeom suggests taking the crib down on the fourth day and instantly regrets it moments later. This time, Mark holds him while his shoulders shake. Jaebeom isn’t even crying, he’s sure his reservoir is all dried up with the number of tears he sheds when Mark isn’t looking. 

On the fifth day, Jaebeom wakes up alone. The bed is cold, Mark’s side has obviously been unoccupied for a few hours. There’s a steaming mug of coffee on the nightstand when Jaebeom rolls over and stretches. WORLDS BEST DAD stares at him like some sort of joke. Out of all the mugs they have, this is the one he’s learned to despise the most. He almost doesn’t take it, feels like he doesn’t deserve to drink from a cup with a lie on it. He does anyway because wasting perfectly good caffeine is a crime. Though, when Jaebeom brings the cup to his lips and takes the first sip, he wishes he didn’t because when Mark barges into the room, their white sheets turn coffee-colored. 

“They don’t want him!” Is the first thing that comes out of Mark’s mouth. It takes a moment for Jaebeom to understand, then he’s scrambling to his feet in seconds when it sinks in. 

“Are you sure?” He asks, voice rough with sleep. 

“Yes! I just got off the phone with the police, they said they found Bam’s parents back in Thailand—said they still don’t want him!” Mark’s eyes are shiny when he pulls Jaebeom to his chest. “We just need to fill out the paperwork.”

“Okay,” Jaebeom croaks. The reservoir is full again and spilling over onto Mark’s hoodie. 

“And pass a background check.” 

Jaebeom nods, clutching Mark close. “When can we see him?” 

Mark’s shoulders are shaking. Jaebeom doesn’t know whether it’s from crying or he’s laughing out of pure joy. Either one, Jaebeom can’t blame him for.  

“As soon as you get dressed.”

Jaebeom has never thrown on a pair of pants faster. 

The trek to the police station is like no other. 

All of Jaebeom’s senses are heightened to a point where he feels like fucking Superman. He can barely contain any rational emotion when they enter the building, then any rational reaction he thought he’d have to seeing BamBam again after almost a week is also thrown out the window. Jaebeom rushes to the worker holding him, takes him into arms, and for the first time in five days, he can finally breathe again. 

“He hasn’t stopped calling for his Beomie,” the social worker tells them. “Or for his appa. ” 

Mark is at Jaebeom’s side, holding BamBam’s tiny hand in his. The boy is saying a garbled mix of words but the only one that comes out clearly is, “Beom! Beom!” 

Mark is the first to cry this time. Jaebeom isn’t too far behind him. 

When they arrived home, it wasn't to an empty apartment. Jinyoung had somehow broken in and gathered all of their friends into their living room to celebrate BamBam’s return. 

“We haven’t formally adopted him yet,” Mark explains. Him, Youngjae, and Yugyeom are sitting on the floor with BamBam, their guest of honor, happily chewing on his snake in the middle of their huddle. “He’s here on a visa until we can legally adopt then he’ll have his full Korean citizenship.” 

“Damn. How long will that take?” Youngjae asks. 

“For adoption, almost two years.” Mark shrugs. “We can’t do anything about that. Social workers said they’ll do everything in their power to speed up the process. It’s all worth it, though. Isn’t it, Bammie?”

BamBam gurgles in confirmation. 

“I can’t believe it,” Yugyeom gaps. “I’ve always been the baby of this family!” He levels BamBam with a challenging stare then backs off when the boy blows a snot bubble. Yugyeom groans. “He’s too cute for his own good! I can’t compete with that!” 

Jinyoung, Jackson, and Jaebeom laugh from the kitchen as the three of them prepare the feast Mark’s dad sent over from the restaurant.

“You two are parents. It’s so surreal,” Jackson starts. “I’ve been wishing for you guys to finally get your heads out of your asses and get together for years.”

Jaebeom scoffs. “Oh, I’m sorry we all can’t have the balls to profess our love to our college sweethearts.” 

“No, but you just lost me two hundred thousand won, so thanks for that. I gave it another year before you finally jumped him.” 

“I’ll be taking that payment in cash, by the way,” Jinyoung pipes up.

Jaebeom gawks at them, completely stunned. He turns to the living room and yells, “Hyung, give me the blue triangle!” 

BamBam responds instead and tosses the toy in Jaebeom’s direction. He misses, sadly, but ends up hitting Jinyoung, so he still got the target. 

By the time everyone left, it was late and way past all of their bedtimes. BamBam laid between both of them clad in his pink piggy onesie, gleefully still full of energy from the party. He bounces on the mattress, making it impossible for either Mark or Jaebeom to get some sleep. 

“Bam-ah, it’s bedtime. We can play tomorrow,” Mark reasons. His attempts at calming BamBam is a fruitless endeavor. He huffs into his pillow when the boy scoots closer to him and rolls his butt right into Mark’s face. “That’s just rude,” is Mark’s muffled reply. 

Jaebeom chuckles as he reels BamBam back to his side of the bed. “I think I know exactly how to get him to sleep.” 

Mark blurrily watches as Jaebeom reaches for something on the nightstand then presents to him the white music box. When BamBam recognized the contraption he squealed, knowing exactly what came next. 

“Sing with me,” Jaebeom says.

“BamBam won’t fall asleep if I do.”

“C’mon, babe, please?” Mark’s reaction to the pet name is just as Jaebeom expected, flushed. Extremely flushed. Jaebeom can see his red ears in the silver moonlight cascading from the window. He still doesn’t budge, so Jaebeom pulls out the big guns. “Bammie, do you want your Appa to sing with me?” 

BamBam turns to Mark and it only took one look from those enchanting eyes for Mark to cave in. Delighted, Jaebeom starts the music box and its first sweet melody fills the room. They begin to sing upon the first note. 

“Hush, little baby don't say a word. 

Appa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird. 

And if that mockingbird don't sing

Appa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.”

Mark’s voice is rich and deep, an opposite to Jaebeom’s smoother tone. They blend together, catching BamBam right in the middle, making his movements to listen. The boy gawks at both of them, thumb caught between his lips as his eyes shift between his parents. 

“And if that diamond ring turns brass,

Appa’s gonna buy you a looking glass. 

And if that looking glass gets broke,

Appa’s gonna buy you a billy goat.”

Jaebeom switches his attention from his son to his boyfriend. His heart swells with an abundance of love for both of them. When Jaebeom sings the previous line then looks from BamBam to Mark, he almost falters because Mark is already staring at him. Jaebeom blushes then takes his hand to interlace their fingers together, resting their hands across BamBam’s chest. The boy takes his thumb out of his mouth and places his slobbery palm across their knuckles. 

“And if that billy goat don’t pull,

Appa’s gonna buy you a cart and bull. 

And if that cart and bull turn over,

Appa’s gonna buy you a dog called Rover.”

BamBam’s eyes finally begin to drop. His breathing evens out, fingers curl over Jaebeom’s thumb. Mark and Jaebeom finish the song right as BamBam begins to snore. 

“And if that dog called Rover don’t bark,

Appa’s gonna buy you a horse and cart.

And if that horse and cart turn round,

You’ll still be the sweetest little babe in town. 

Still be the sweetest little babe in town.”

Jaebeom smiles at his partner. “Should I say, ‘I told you so’ now? Or in the morning?” 

Mark rolls his eyes. “You carried that whole song.” 

“Be that as it may, BamBam’s out cold.” Both of them glance down at their son. BamBam has a large trail of drool slipping down his mouth. He scrunches his nose, kicks his feet to finally get the last drops of energy out of his system. Jaebeom’s chest clenches when BamBam grips his thumb a little tighter in his sleep. 

“This all feels too good to be true, y’know?” Mark whispers. “Like, if someone were to ask me if I’d be raising a child with the love of my life a month ago, I’d call them crazy.”

Jaebeom’s smile widens. “The love of your life, huh? I feel honored.”

“I should be the one saying that,” Mark chuckles. “It’s not every day just anyone can be loved by the one and only Lim Jaebeom.” He props himself up on one elbow to lean over and pecks Jaebeom’s lips. “Bammie and I are the only ones who get to experience what that feels like.”

Jaebeom kisses him again, a little longer, with a little more love than the last. “As you two should.”  

Mark leans back onto his side of the bed. His gaze moves to BamBam as Jaebeom finally feels sleep take its course. He knows Mark’s watching both of them, probably with a goofy grin on his face because he’s still trying to process what his life gave him. Jaebeom can feel himself drift in and out of consciousness when Mark speaks up one last time.  

“Remember what you said about taking things step by step? Because we started this whole thing a bit out of order?” Jaebeom grunts in response. Mark clears his throat, suddenly sounding nervous. “W-well, um. We have a house. We have a kid. And we’re finally together. So, the n-next step would be—”

“Hyung, if you’re going to ask me to marry you right now, I won’t answer until I have my morning coffee.”  

Mark’s probably pouting right about now. “What the heck? How’d you know what I was going to say?”

Jaebeom shushes him when BamBam stirs. He peeks an eye open to see that he was right, Mark’s pout is as evident as ever. “Because you’re so predictable.” 

“That’s not what you said when I bought a baby home.” 

“Exactly. Your unpredictability is very predictable.”

“You’re not making any sense, Beom-ah.” 

“Because I’m tired, hyung,” Jaebeom stresses. “This is probably the most decent sleep we’ll have in days and you’re keeping me from it.” 

Mark huffs out a laugh and moves again. Jaebeom feels lips on his forehead then the bed dips back into place. “I love you, Jaebeom.”

Jaebeom feels his cheeks flush. He strokes Mark’s knuckles with this thumb, BamBam follows his movements, hand still wound tight around his finger, and utters, “I love you, hyung.” 

Mark seems satisfied with his answer because he finally quiets down not long after. Before Jaebeom lets himself fall into slumber, he thinks about Mark’s words and concludes that he’s right about the next step in their out of order storyline. Nothing has ever been normal for them, especially in this house, so Jaebeom would like to stick to some sort of agenda. 

“I wouldn’t say no,” he utters. Mark squeezes his hand as a promise, another conversation for a different day, and Jaebeom finally succumbs to sleep.