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“I’m not- No, stop kicking- I’m going to sell you to the zoo! You can live with the monkeys now."
5:30 AM used to be too early for this sort of thing. Just a few years ago Hansol was a strict seven and a half to eight hours-er; once, he was turned away from a sleep study because his REM cycles were too normal.
He doesn’t know what Seungkwan’s deal is, if he was always like this or if somewhere in the last two years Seoyun has similarly reached into his DNA and reprogrammed him to live and die, sleep and wake, at the whims of a tyrannical five year old. When he slumps into the living room Seungkwan’s hair is sticking up at a thousand different angles. He hasn’t done his morning face routine, and he’s still in his pajamas - boxers he’s had since he was in ninth grade, and one of Hansol’s old shirts he says is too ugly for anything but sleeping. But his eyes are vivid like they are when he’s wide awake, and his smile, for Seoyun, is shining.
“‘M not a monkey, I’m not!” Seoyun screeches, pounding her fists against Seungkwan’s chest. Seungkwan pretends to swoon at the last one, falling to the floor and dragging her with him. She lands on his chest in a giggling heap, still pummeling him ineffectually, although he makes sure to moan theatrically with each one.
Hansol lingers at the doorway. Of the two of them, he wakes up quicker, but it’s still a lot to take in: niece, Seungkwan, impending noise complaint. They moved into this apartment last month - two bedrooms, not big, but bigger; closer to daycare and Seoyun’s new school, one extra subway transfer for Hansol but he doesn’t mind. The neighbors, retired professor, dote on Seoyun and have maintained a gentle silence on the Hansol-and-Seungkwan of it all, but he’s pretty sure zoo noises before dawn will get them sent firmly and swiftly to the 'THAT kind of neighbor' camp.
Still. There’s something nice, about the way the first weak rays have found their way through the window slats and turn the edges of Seungkwan’s hair dark gold, and the way Seoyun’s fists turn into fingers curled in his sweater when it becomes nicer, for her tiny heart, to use her hands instead to feel the soft texture of her Seungkwan’s shirt, which smells like her Hansol, and to also feel the gentle weight of his palm on her back, not holding her down, but just holding her.
Last night she fell asleep in Hansol’s lap while he read her one of the old picture books his mom sent him. She used to bite and scream and sob at the sight of him, and she still does sometimes, but a few weeks ago she told him she wanted to live with him forever - Seungkwan, too, she clarified a few sentences later, but she said Hansol first. Seungkwan pretended to be offended - “Oh, I’ll go sleep in the hallway, because that’s where you want me, huh?” - but that night he made Hansol lie with his ear against his heart, the way he’s holding Seoyun now, while he told him how proud he is, how much he’s done. And while later, he will tell Seungkwan that it’s because of him, all of it, her, him, them; right then he closed his eyes and let Seungkwan tell him that he’s been good, and let himself believe it.
Seoyun’s breathing has evened out. She’s good about staying down once she’s down, but Seungkwan doesn’t look like he has any intention of moving, especially once Hansol settles down cross-legged beside him, looking down at him and all of the sunbeams scattered across his face. He reaches out. Touches Seungkwan’s hair. His nose. His lips.
Seungkwan bites at his fingers, and then kisses their tips. It immediately feels better.
Hansol has to start getting ready for work in 30 minutes. Seungkwan needs to be at the daycare in an hour, shiny and eager to receive all wayward toddlers delivered to his care. Hansol is up for a promotion he doesn’t think he’ll get. Seungkwan says he misses singing, but he’s fine where he is right now. Tonight they'll stumble home too exhausted to deal with a wound-up five year old, and then do it anyway; barely have time to kiss, let alone do anything other than hold hands while Seoyun, who’s been having bad dreams, burrows in between them.
They’re still too young for this. They’ll always be too young for this.
Seungkwan blinks up at him, sleepy, content. One of his hands holds Seoyun steady agains this chest, right above where his heart is. He reaches out the other to Hansol. Hansol hesitates for a second before taking it, just so he can brace for Seungkwan’s smile when he does. He still isn’t ready.