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Doyoung had never given much thought to whether or not he'd be a father some day. If he'd had to, he'd probably have assumed he would, though the details of when and who he'd eventually settle down with weren't something he worried himself over— especially not while only in his early twenties.
It's humorous, in a way, that something that only ever crossed his mind in faraway wonders for his future had so suddenly became a reality, all thanks to a thoughtless one night stand he'd given in to with hopes of forgetting about the best friend he very much had feelings for, even if only temporarily.
And so, nine months and an argument with said woman later, Doyoung had ended up a single father.
As stressful as it was, he didn't view it as a mistake, as anything he regretted. Very quickly did he realize he liked being a father, and how worth all the sleepless nights and missed meals were for his son, Kim Jiwoo.
Doyoung exhales softly as Jiwoo stirs against him. His son's typically happy— as happy as babies generally are, but of course, there's always the more difficult days, that Doyoung's grown more than familiar with in what's been over a year and a half of raising him.
On the evening in particular, Doyoung can tell the boy's exhausted, though won't seem to let himself actually sleep, looking on the verge of tears every time Doyoung sets him down.
"Jiwoo," Doyoung hums, pacing the apartment with his son in his arms in the usual way that seems to calm him, if not send him to sleep. "Don't you wanna get some sleep for me, hm?"
Expectedly, Jiwoo doesn't give much of a response other than a small, displeased noise, and Doyoung sighs again, slowing to a stop to get a good look at the boy in his arms.
He's told his son looks like him, but he never seems to see it himself. Perhaps he does now, with tired eyes and a permanent frown at his expression, but aside from that— Doyoung isn't sure. He'd always thought Jiwoo's eyes stood out though, that they held something he couldn't quite place.
"Hey. Don't look at me like that." He coos, brushing a hand through Jiwoo's hair gently, who yawns in return. He seems to relax at the gesture, so Doyoung repeats it with a soft hum until Jiwoo seems to close his eyes, comfortably resting his head at Doyoung's shoulder.
Refraining from exhaling in relief, —because he knows it's not always as easy as it seems— Doyoung moves to instead draw circles at Jiwoo's back, hoping for him to fall deep enough into sleep that he won't mind being set down.
And he's almost sure Jiwoo is, until a knock sounds from the front door, just loud enough to wake Jiwoo, and send him into tears.
Doyoung chews the inside of his cheek in irritation, wondering who on earth had decided now was the perfect time to visit. It wasn't like many people other than his parents seemed to want to anyway. Oddly enough, becoming a father at 23 makes it a little difficult to keep the amount of friends you once had.
"Jiwoo, hey, it's okay." Doyoung softly mumbles to his now crying son, adjusting his hold on him as he makes his way to the front door— though he's sure whoever it is, it's absolutely not worth the inconvenience. Holding Jiwoo with one arm, Doyoung reaches for the doorknob with his other, and pulls it open without giving much mind to looking, instead to calming the distressed baby in his hold.
"Doyoung," It's a voice that he hasn't heard in years, but thought about everyday since. "Never saw you as the babysitter type."
And sure enough, there, at Doyoung's doorstep, stands Lee Taeyong. The man that had been his best friend throughout university, the man that had moved so incomprehensibly far away for a once in a lifetime job opportunity, the man Doyoung had stopped contacting entirely when the news of his son had come— and the man that Doyoung had been helplessly in love with.
He takes a moment to realise that Jiwoo's stopped crying, and changed his manner entirely, now making delighted little noises as he looks to Taeyong. The kind Doyoung hears when he picks up Jiwoo after his parents volunteer to look after him while he runs errands, or when he first sees Jiwoo in the morning.
Doyoung must have stood there, dumbfounded, for a little too long, because Taeyong speaks again after a slight clear of his throat. "I just got back in town, so I figured I'd— And you hadn't returned my calls, and... yeah."
"He's my son." Doyoung finally clarifies with a firm swallow.
Jiwoo, as if knowing he'd been mentioned, makes another noise, reaching for Taeyong.
Doyoung's gaze settles on Taeyong though, who's expression is blank, eyes searching for something from Doyoung, —an indication that he's joking, probably— and when he doesn't find that, the expression hardens. "Your son?"
Exhaling, Doyoung shakes his head. The suddenness of the situation is overwhelming, so much so that he almost just wants to tell the other to leave, though he knows he doesn't deserve anything of the treatment. Stepping aside to welcome Taeyong in, he once more adjusts Jiwoo in his hold.
Doyoung pushes the door to a gentle close once the older's entered, and everything's an unsettling kind of quiet, where neither of the two saying anything at all.
Jiwoo, on the other hand, seems on top of the world, babbling away, blissfully unaware of the cold atmosphere between the two.
"Seems he likes you," Doyoung forces himself to be the one to talk— he'd been the one to make things so awkward, the least he could do was make a weak attempt at bettering the mood. "He's, uh, had a rough day. Won't sleep or anything, so it's nice to see him being himself again."
Taeyong, though seeming more unsure than ever, steps forward. "Hey there." He speaks gently, earning a delighted squeal from Jiwoo, which Taeyong smiles at.
"His name is Jiwoo." Doyoung tells.
"Jiwoo," Taeyong repeats, though Doyoung can't place the emotion behind the tone. "Cute."
"Yeah." He breathes, lifting a rattle from where he'd last left it by the kitchen counter and offering it to Jiwoo, who happily takes it, shaking it around enthusiastically.
The silence between them returns, and Doyoung hates it. He knows he's at fault for everything's that's wrong in the moment, yet he can't seem to let himself properly fix it.
With his own exhaustion setting in for a moment, Doyoung takes a seat at the couch, placing Jiwoo on his lap, who still plays with the rattle, though for the most part, seems to have lost interest, instead once more fascinated with Taeyong's presence.
"You can sit, if you—"
"No, I'm good." Taeyong answers from where he stands, still somewhat near the door.
Doyoung sighs, looking back to Jiwoo again. "Okay."
For a while, Jiwoo happily babbles in his lap, though soon seems to fight a wave of tiredness, which Doyoung jumps at the opportunity of, carefully lifting him again, and letting the boy settle sleepily at his shoulder once more.
"I'm gonna try and get him into bed." He explains, standing up, this time not earning a response from Taeyong.
Though Doyoung has a second room where he has the majority of Jiwoo's stuff, he still opts to keep the crib in his own— always especially handy in times like these when he seems to wake up every few minutes. Besides, his son's company is extra special when for the most part, it's all he seems to get.
"Get some sleep for me, okay?" Doyoung coos as he enters the room he'd kept dark. "I'll be right here when you wake up, Jiwoo."
Gently, he lowers Jiwoo, practically already asleep, into the crib, making sure he's comfortable. And after determining that he's not going to burst into another round of tears, Doyoung quietly leaves, making sure the door is left ajar.
He's not sure why, but he half-expects Taeyong to be gone by the time he returns, though there the other is, still firmly stood in the last place Doyoung had seen, gaze trained on his hands that he fiddles with, a habit Doyoung remembers well.
"You didn't tell me you had a son."
Doyoung looks away, out the window of the nearby kitchen. It reveals nothing but the brick wall of the building beside his, though it seemed much more interesting to look at in the moment. "I was busy."
"Busy enough to ignore my texts and calls for two years?" Doyoung can feel Taeyong's stare on him now, practically burning into the side of his head. His own falls to the floor. "Doyoung, I thought we had something—"
"You left for three years." Doyoung interrupts, though he knows he shouldn't. He knows none of this is rational for him to be upset about, but he can't help it. And regardless if it's fair of him or not, it hurt. Bad.
"For a job," Taeyong breathes, obviously cautious of his voice level, though the tone says more than enough. "Not because I was getting someone pregnant."
Doyoung finds himself looking in Taeyong's direction now, where their eyes meet. "You don't know that it was like that—"
It was exactly like that, and it makes it all the more frustrating.
"Of course I don't! How would I when you stopped bothering to even talk to me?" Taeyong huffs, shaking his head. "I don't even know why I came here. Clearly someone who actually cared about their best friend would have told them something like this."
Doyoung can't seem to look at Taeyong any longer after that.
And maybe he should have, or at least bothered to say something more.
Maybe then Taeyong wouldn't have left without another word, leaving Doyoung stood with eyes trained on the floor, cheeks heated with frustration, all directed towards himself.
The thing about being a parent, Doyoung thinks, is that no matter how exhausted you are— you can always, as impossible as it feels, be more exhausted.
And the last week has been more than proof of that. Doyoung always finds himself on the brink of what he imagines is complete and utter exhaustion, —nearly passing out and barely managing to keep his eyes open— and yet somehow, he always seems to get more tired, and never numb to the sensation of it.
The phase Jiwoo's going through is nothing like Doyoung's ever seen from him; he refuses to sleep, cries whenever Doyoung leaves for even for a moment, and regardless of what he's given, won't cheer up.
Doyoung hates seeing his son unhappy more than anything, and hates that he can't just fix it with ease and make everything better for the both of them.
And the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes— the last time he'd seen Jiwoo be himself, was with Taeyong.
Admittedly, he's desperate. Desperate enough to consider calling Taeyong, who he'd last seen storming out of his apartment, —completely justified, mind you— and absolutely mad at him.
But Doyoung can't find another solution to cheer Jiwoo up, no matter how long he searches every ounce of possibility in his mind, or how many attempts he makes at making the boy smile, or sleep, for the matter.
So, exhaling deeply, he opens Taeyong's contact, while Jiwoo makes a noise of complaint from his lap.
He knows it's not fair of him in the slightest. Taeyong certainly doesn't owe him anything after everything, or lack thereof, that Doyoung's done. But before he can think too much about it, he's calling him, pressing his phone to his ear while his other hand rests at Jiwoo's back, keeping him in place.
He hears a sigh on the other line before anything's spoken. "What, Doyoung?"
Doyoung feels horrible. "Hey. Are you busy?"
Taeyong's quiet for a few moments. "Why?"
"It's Jiwoo. Nothing seems to cheer him up, he won't sleep or anything, and I just— The last time he was himself was when he met you."
Again, the other's quiet enough that Doyoung starts to think he might have hung up while he was speaking.
"Okay," Taeyong eventually says. "I'll come over."
Doyoung opens his mouth to say something in return, though Taeyong's already hung up.
He's barely processed the brief conversation before Taeyong's there— this time texting Doyoung to tell him rather than knocking.
Glancing at the message, Doyoung hums for Jiwoo's attention, lifting the boy and standing up. He can't believe he's practically nervous to see someone he used to spend his everyday with, and habitually runs his tongue along his lower lip as he moves towards the door.
As if knowing what it entails, Jiwoo visibly lights up before Doyoung's even opened the door, and when he does, excitedly babbles at the sight of Taeyong.
Doyoung can't imagine the kind of disaster he looks, running on days of next to no sleep and skipped meals— though Taeyong looks the same kind of effortlessly perfect that Doyoung had always remembered.
"Hi Jiwoo," Taeyong coos, stepping a little closer to them. "What's wrong, hm?"
Any evidence that Jiwoo had been upset earlier was more than gone, he was immediately himself again, bright and excited and grabbing the air in Taeyong's direction.
"I think he wants you to hold him." Doyoung gives a tired chuckle, nervousness quickly slipping at the mere sight of his son being the kind of happy he hadn't been in days.
"Can I?"
"Of course," He's not sure what surprises him more, the fact that Taeyong wants to, or the fact he feels the need to ask. "Do you know—"
"I know how to hold him," Taeyong interrupts, and Doyoung sees a hint of a smile at his expression for a fraction of a second. "I have a nephew, you know."
Doyoung exhales. "Yeah. Here."
Carefully, Doyoung hands Jiwoo over, and once safely in Taeyong's arms, he steps back to close the door after them, letting Taeyong walk a few steps away, lightly bouncing Jiwoo while talking to him.
"Aren't you a cutie?" Taeyong asks, in a high pitched voice that makes Doyoung smile without much realisation. Pinching Jiwoo's cheek gently, which earns a happy squeal, Taeyong turns to face Doyoung. "He looks like you, you know. Just cuter. Right, Jiwoo?"
Jiwoo seems to agree, clutching onto Taeyong's shirt and going back to enthusiastically babbling to the both of them.
"I get told that a lot. Don't really see it so much myself, though." Doyoung answers, brushing a hand through his hair.
Still slightly bouncing Jiwoo, Taeyong hums. "Does he look like his mother?"
Initially, Doyoung just blinks in response to the question. In his time as a single father, he knows well that questions regarding the mother of his son are often shied away from— and he'd sort of expected Taeyong to be the same, especially considering how their conversation had ended the last time they'd spoke.
But he's beat himself up enough over how much Taeyong deserves his honesty, the least he can do is actually give it to him.
Shrugging slightly, he averts his gaze to his son, watching the boy be more lively than he's seen him all week. "Not so much. Maybe a little with his nose."
On cue, Taeyong gently pokes Jiwoo's nose, causing him to erupt in a fit of giggles.
Doyoung waits a moment, shifts his weight and keeps his eyes on the two. Really, it's a sight that feels unexplainably right, his son and the man he'd loved getting along so well.
"She's not around, you know. At all." He makes himself clairfy, clearing his throat a little. "She didn't want... this." It's the nicest way he can possibly say the last thing on earth she wanted was to raise a son, with Doyoung or not.
Taeyong presses his lips together, watching Jiwoo as he yawns. Doyoung can't make out what he's thinking, if anything, about what he'd told him.
Before he can let himself overthink it, he's following up on his words. "She and I didn't have anything. If that's what you're thinking."
"But you're not the kind of guy that just— just hooks up with random people and ends up with a kid." Taeyong finally answers and looks to Doyoung, their eyes meeting just as they had last time. There's nothing of the emotion that there was the days earlier.
"I know." Doyoung breathes.
Jiwoo's practically falling asleep on Taeyong by now, and Doyoung really can't make sense of it, of how good the other is with him, better than himself.
He opens his mouth to continue talking, then closes it.
It's been nagging on his mind since the moment he'd seen Taeyong at his doorstep, whether or not he should tell him the lengths of what had happened, what he'd thought and felt. Or how to tell him, for that matter.
And now, he feels what he can only describe as the urge to tell him everything, to clarify how he'd ended up at this odd place in his life without even trying, in a way that he never had before.
So he does.
"I missed you," He starts. There, he's said it. Now he has to continue. "A lot. I couldn't stop thinking about you, and what we had, and I just— I don't know. You were going to be gone so long and I was already stupid and hurting. So I made a dumb decision with someone I barely knew and... And yeah."
Taeyong's expression's changed— but Doyoung still can't place it, or what he's thinking. What he's going to do. For all Doyoung knows, Taeyong's just going to walk out again.
But whether it's for Jiwoo's sake, or another reason he can't name, Taeyong doesn't, and just gives a soft, thoughtful hum.
"Are you blaming me for you having a kid?"
"What? Taeyong, no, of course not. It's nobody's fault. I'm more than lucky to have him—"
"I'm kidding," Taeyong shakes his head, holding Jiwoo a little closer before looking to Doyoung. "Why are you telling me this?"
Doyoung can't fight off a slight exhale of relief at the fact that there's something lighthearted about the situation. "I don't know. The least you deserve after all I did is some kind of honesty about it all, I guess."
They're both quiet for a while, until Taeyong moves closer to Doyoung. "You should probably take him to bed. He's out like a light."
"Yeah." Doyoung answers breathily, wondering if Taeyong actually was going to leave after Doyoung's confession of sorts.
Carefully, he takes Jiwoo from Taeyong, who doesn't seem to even stir from the movement.
Despite his worries though, when Doyoung returns from putting Jiwoo in his crib, Taeyong's sat at the couch, fiddling with a loose thread at the hem of his shirt.
Wordlessly, Doyoung sits beside him.
When he does, it hits him just how long it's been since he's last had the chance to actually sit down for a minute— let alone have a conversation with someone.
"I missed you too," Taeyong offers first, still busy with the thread. "I can tell you're a great father to Jiwoo."
"I don't always feel like it," Doyoung admits, feeling as if it's both to himself and the other. "I mean, I wasn't exactly prepared to become one. I still feel like I'm improvising most of the time, and I don't know if that's enough for him," He shakes his head. "I can't even look after him properly when he won't sleep—"
"Doyoung," The other interrupts, sitting straighter, slightly repositioning himself to face Doyoung more. "Give yourself some credit. You're here for him, and you're doing your best. That's what matters."
Doyoung sighs. "He hasn't even said his first words yet. And I wonder if that's something I'm doing wrong, if I'm not good enough at this whole thing. Especially doing it on my own."
"Stop," Taeyong tells him.
So he does, looking to Taeyong. Their eyes find one another's as usual, though for once that's not it— Taeyong's hand seems to find Doyoung's, which he gently holds onto. The older's the one to glance down to the new contact between them, something so simple, yet something enough to send chills through Doyoung. No matter how many years it's been, every touch with Taeyong feels like the first.
"You don't have to do it on your own anymore, if you don't want to."
"What?" Doyoung almost whispers.
Taeyong offers his hand a squeeze, as if a way of confirming what he's about to say.
"Well, you have me with you now, don't you?"
"Come on Jiwoo, don't you wanna say 'dada'?" Doyoung playfully pouts, though his words go ignored as Jiwoo crawls over to a set of blocks Taeyong had just set down for him, taking one in his grip.
"I'd take that as a no." Taeyong chuckles, taking his place beside Doyoung, and humming when he brings an arm around his waist.
"He's really happy with you around more, you know," Doyoung tells the other. "And so am I, I guess."
"You guess?" Taeyong gasps in an exaggerated fake-hurt. "Here I am, helping you raise—"
"Yeah, yeah. I am just as happy with you around more."
Taeyong smiles at that, and thoughtlessly, Doyoung is too— Taeyong has that effect.
A noise interrupts the two though, and Jiwoo giggles excitedly, proud of himself for giving his best efforts at throwing the particular block towards the floor.
"What was that for, Jiwoo?" Taeyong asks, standing up.
Jiwoo quickly moves his attention to Taeyong, arms in the air to be lifted.
So Taeyong does, though rather than the usual noises and babbles Jiwoo makes whenever he gets any kind of attention from him— there's something else.
"Tae!"
Both Doyoung and Taeyong freeze in place, before Doyoung quickly pieces together what he'd just heard and stands up. "Did he just—"
"Tae! Tae.... yongyongyong."
"Oh my god, Doyoung." Taeyong whispers, and Jiwoo giggles, looking excitedly between the two as if admiring the reaction he'd gained.
"I was— Me? My name was his first... Doyoung!"
Doyoung can't find the words for what's probably a solid minute. And then he's smiling, grinning from ear to ear. The moment is so perfect, —perfect enough that he can't even take the time to feel an ounce of jealousy that despite his countless efforts of getting his son to say his name, Jiwoo had gone with Taeyong's— and there's only a single word, a single feeling that finds place within him to describe the moment.
Family.
There, with Jiwoo and Taeyong, for the first time, Doyoung feels like he has a family.
He's no longer nothing but a lost cause of a single father— but a member of a family.
One he can't wait to spend nothing less than the rest of his life with.