Chapter Text
It’s usually a pleasant ten-minute stroll from their house to the grocery store, birds tweeting from overhead and neighbours greeting him as he passes by. But today Chenle, who has never been interested in peace and quiet, decides to start screaming and throwing his teddy bear out of the stroller when Doyoung stops to talk to Ten.
“Well, haven’t you got a grouchy little one in there!”
“He’s usually much sweeter than this,” Doyoung says, picking the bear back up and shaking it in front of him. “Look, Chenle! Teddy wants a hug!”
“I suppose babies really don’t like me,” Ten says. “I was just saying to my husband that I couldn’t possibly see myself parenting. Not in the next five years at least. There’s no way I can be all responsible-drinking, early-nighting while I’m barely thirty. Chenle can probably tell I’m anti-baby.”
“Don’t be silly,” Doyoung says, hastily pulling Chenle out of the double stroller seat and holding him close, patting his back and trying to calm him. Renjun looks dangerously close to tears in the second seat, and one crying baby is bad enough. With twins, the crying always seems to come in pairs. “You don’t have to have children before you’re ready. And when you are ready, you’ll know. That’s when the sacrifices will be worth it.”
“I’m sure,” Ten says, keeping a safe distance from Chenle. “Does it make all the crying worth it too?”
Renjun starts the hesitant, pre-crying whimpering from the stroller, and Doyoung sighs. “Most of the time.”
“Maybe they’re still getting used to the move!” Ten says hopefully. “I’m sure it’ll settle down once you’ve been here a few weeks.”
“I hope so,” Doyoung says, kissing the side of Chenle’s head before settling him back into the stroller. They probably both need feeding or changing, and he can’t do that in the middle of the street. “I should really be getting back.”
“Let me walk you home, I’ll help you put the groceries away. I may be no good with kids, but I promise you I can put the right food in the right places.”
“Thank you, Ten,” he says, truly grateful. Not many people would volunteer to spend more time with two screaming babies.
“And how are you settling in?” Ten asks as they set off walking, deftly catching the bear when Chenle throws it at him a second time. “Are you taking to Westview well?”
“Oh, nice catch! I’m settling in very well, thank you, it’s nice to have a fresh start. The house is beautiful, the garden will be great for the kids to play in when they’re a little older, hmm?” He reaches in to tickle Renjun’s cheek, who is whimpering unhappily as Chenle continues crying. “Oh, it’s okay, look, we’re home now!”
“This is where I take off with the food,” Ten says, faux wiping his brow. Doyoung passes him his keys, then goes to lift up Chenle into his arms, rocking and soothing him again.
“It’s okay, it’s okay baby. You’re safe, you’re with me. Let’s get inside and figure out what it is you want, hm?”
He wheels the stroller into the house and sets Chenle down onto the baby mat on the living room floor, then lifts Renjun out to do the same. Both smell okay, so it’s probably a matter of food, though Renjun seems much happier now he’s distracted by his building blocks.
“Ten, could you pass over a packet of those rice cakes from that bag? Yeah, those ones. I think Chenle is a little hangry.”
“Don’t I know the feeling,” Ten says, passing the packet through the kitchen partition. “Hope you like apple flavour, little Chenle. I’ve sorted out your shopping, Doyoung-ah, so I’ll take my leave.”
“Oh? That was fast!”
Ten winks at him. “Call it a gift. Can’t cook to save my life, but I can organise to save yours. Have me around for dinner sometime to make up for it.”
“Alright,” Doyoung laughs, ripping open the packet of rice cakes. “Thank you so much, Ten. I’ll text you.”
“You’d better,” Ten says, showing himself out, giving him a little wave at the door that’s all fingers. “Have fun, dear.”
Chenle has calmed down considerably now with an apple rice cake in hand, clamping his little baby teeth down on it with unshed tears still glistening in his eyes. Renjun is also crawling his way over to get his own rice cake, quickly bored of the building blocks and not wanting to be left out.
“There you go,” Doyoung says quietly, handing the rice cake over to him, and Renjun sits down heavily to take it from him with his clumsy baby hands. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Chenle gurgles something, and Doyoung runs a hand through the soft, fine hair on his head. “I know. It’s an adjustment for all of us. But we’ll fit in here soon, you’ll see. It’s a good home for us.”
When Chenle finishes his rice cake he reaches out to ask for another, making grabby hands towards the packet. “Is that good?” he asks, pulling another out to give it to him. “Yummy?”
Chenle gurgles again as he put it all into his mouth, wide eyes looking up at Doyoung.
“Yeah,” he smiles, pinching his cheek gently. “Seems yummy, baby.”
He sits and plays with the boys for a little while after that. Chenle is in the habit of following Renjun around and wanting to use the exact toy he’s playing with at any given time, so Doyoung is working on teaching them to share and play together peacefully. Success comes in varying levels.
After dinner Doyoung runs them a shallow bath, Renjun splashing at the suds and enjoying the bubbles that float up when Doyoung blows into the foam. Chenle watches them, mesmerised, and only giggles when Doyoung uses a little magic to shape them into horses that gallop along the edge of the bathtub.
Chenle gets fussy first, so he lifts him out to dry him off in the middle of the bathroom, Renjun still happily splashing around in the water. When he’s dry and dressed in a snuggly little babygrow, Doyoung takes him through to the bedroom, setting him down next to his teddy bear. Renjun, unperturbed by being left alone for a minute or two, is more upset about having to leave behind the bubbles, while he can hear Chenle already starting to fuss in the other room.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he says, lifting Renjun through to the bedroom to towel him off there. He’s more resistant to his babygrow too, unhelpfully waving his arms about as Doyoung tries to button him up.
“Okay, okay, you’re not supposed to be so excitable at this hour! It’s time for bed, Renjun. You want to sleep?”
Renjun makes a whining sound, turning over to find Chenle as soon as he’s freed from Doyoung’s hold. Chenle has his hands on one of their picture books, grabbing at it clumsily in an attempt to lift it up.
“At least Chenle knows what time it is,” he says, thumbing Renjun’s cheek. “Come here, you scoundrel. It’s time to settle down. You want to read about The Very Hungry Caterpillar?”
Chenle smiles at that, the name of his favourite book connecting somewhere in his baby brain, and he flails his arms about and gurgles excitedly. His smile is so sweet, bright on his little face with his few baby teeth poking through, and Doyoung’s heart melts a little as he gathers him into his lap.
“Come on, you too, Renjun. It’s time to settle down.”
Renjun fusses still, wanting to crawl around instead, so Doyoung waves his fingers and the Very Hungry Caterpillar starts to crawl around on the page. That gets his attention a little more, and Chenle squeals and claps as the Caterpillar crawls into the apple, body moving up and down, and squeezes out of the other side.
It takes another, less exciting book after that to settle Renjun down, but eventually both his babies lean into him, lax. When he closes the book about the mermaid, the pictures of the sea gently moving on the pages, Renjun is half asleep with his thumb in his mouth.
Chenle whines when he stands to put Renjun in his crib. “I’m coming, Chenle, I haven’t left you behind.” He lays Renjun down to rest, then comes back to lift Chenle up, arms outstretched to reach up for Doyoung. He quietens again when he has his head against Doyoung’s shoulder, little hand clutched in Doyoung’s shirt. “Don’t you want to go to sleep? I won’t go very far. I’m just in the next room.”
“Appa,” Chenle gurgles, head resting into the crook of Doyoung’s neck. Doyoung can’t help but smile, planting a kiss to the soft hair atop his head.
“Yeah, baby,” he murmurs. “I’m right here.”
He stands and sways with Chenle for a little while as Renjun dozes in his crib. Doyoung twirls his wrist in the direction of the night light, main lights softening down so the little star projector can cover the walls and ceiling.
“It’s time to sleep now,” he murmurs, stepping closer to Chenle’s cot, but not particularly wanting to let him go. It’s comforting for him too, to hold him close like this. When he leaves them for the night, it feels like it’s just him in this big, empty house.
Once Chenle goes lax enough that Doyoung has no reason to hold him anymore, he gently lowers him into the crib, smoothing the hair out of his face. He stands back, looking between his two boys, and blows them a kiss.
“Goodnight,” he says, and closes the door behind him. The baby monitor is sensitive enough that he’s secure in leaving them alone—he would know if anything were wrong with them, anyway. It’s Doyoung himself who likes the company.
When the boys sleep, Doyoung doesn’t have time to rest. This big house has too much clutter in it—things that belonged to his sister two years ago but now belongs to no one, stuff that needs going through and sorting out now that they’re living here. He tidies away the kids’ toys, does the washing up, and heaves another few boxes of miscellaneous belongings down from upstairs. Someone had done a hasty job of tidying away her life after she’d died, and a lot of it is piled up in her old bedroom, largely untouched. It might’ve been Jaehyun, but he was always more orderly than that. Maybe it was Jungwoo. He and Sejeong were close.
Today, the pile he looks through contains lots of papers, leaflets, drawings and documents. The most interesting of them all is a photobook. Some of the pictures in here he’s never seen before—the two of them in their childhood home, back when they were young and naïve to their future. The two of them as teenagers, Sejeong dressed up for a date, Doyoung with their family dog. Their graduation picture. A gap before the next picture, in the time everything went to shit—then the two of them in their mid-twenties, a candid taken by Sejeong, Doyoung caught off-guard in the Avengers mansion kitchen.
The pictures dry up quickly from there. They hadn’t spent enough time together in her last few years—there are some pictures of Sejeong in this neighbourhood with friends he doesn’t know, pictures of landscapes from trips he can’t place. Then it ends abruptly.
He’s bad at throwing anything away. The two of them never kept much to start with, started fresh after their parents died. To get rid of anything here feels like getting rid of what he has left of her—but it’s also hard to make use of haunted objects. Nothing here is his, not really.
It hurts to look through, but hurts to leave alone. He’s stuck in a painful in-between where she’s gone, has been gone for over two years, but he can’t let the pieces of her go.
-
The next morning, there’s a knock at the front door for the first time since moving in. He’s finger painting with the twins in the living room, copious amounts of newspaper set down for safety purposes. He stands slowly, comes to the door, and uses some discreet magic to open it without putting paint-hands on it.
“Hello, neighbour!” the smiley man at the door says, holding up a large tub of what looks like freshly made kimchi in both hands. “Or, actually, I live a few streets away, but Westview is a small place and Ten was telling me all about our new resident with twins. I was thinking how hard it must be to move in somewhere new and look after two children on your own, so I’ve come to be neighbourly and drop by some food. I hope that’s not strange?”
“No!” Doyoung says, slightly taken aback, but he’s not about to say no to a friendly face and free kimchi. And the face is friendly—big, earnest eyes look for his approval, and he’s got the niggling feeling he’s seen him somewhere before. He would remember a face like that. “Not at all! I’m Doyoung, it’s lovely to meet you.”
“Taeyong,” the man says, giving him a little bow before handing over the tub. “The pleasure is all mine.”
“Would you like to come in? The kids are currently playing, but—”
“Oh, I don’t want to intrude on any family time—”
“You’re not, it’s fine. It’s nice to have someone my own age to play with, too. Or, you know—sit with, chat to—”
Taeyong laughs, friendly, and steps up to the doorway as Doyoung steps back. “Alright then, I will.”
Taeyong steps inside and quickly spots the boys—Renjun is working studiously at a red-green-blue creation while Chenle sticks his whole hands into splodges of paint, running all the colours together into a brown mess. At least he's having fun with it.
“Hi there,” he coos. “Oh, aren’t you boys working hard?”
Renjun looks up and studies Taeyong as he slips his shoes off and comes to peer over the couch at them. Doyoung slips through to the kitchen to put the kimchi in the fridge and wash his hands clean of the paint.
“Would you like a drink, Taeyong?”
“Do you have anything cold? It’s so warm out today, isn’t it?”
“How’s a lemonade?”
“Sounds perfect to me.”
As Doyoung sets about getting them two iced glasses of lemonade, he can hear Taeyong praising Chenle’s work in a high voice in the next room. When he comes back through Chenle is smiling happily, and goes to put his hand in his mouth. Doyoung quickly puts the glasses down and catches him before he can recoil at the taste of the paint.
“Nope, not until you’re done with the masterpiece, kiddo. You want your dummy?”
Chenle gurgles and waves his arms about, so Doyoung picks out his pacifier from the baby bag and pops it into his mouth. Chenle is satisfied enough to go back to his painting, this time deliberately making hand-prints on the newspaper.
“You’ve got such a cute pair of boys here. How amazing to have twins! Double the love!”
“Yes, I was very lucky,” Doyoung says, picking up his own glass to take a sip as Taeyong does the same. “Do you have children of your own?”
“Oh no, not yet. I’m looking to settle down first. But I’m a teacher up at the school, so I work with kids a lot.”
“Oh, a teacher? What level?”
“Middle school, but I love babies the most. So cute, aren’t they? Look at those little cheeks!”
“They are the cutest at this age,” Doyoung says softly, watching Chenle stand up and start to bounce at the knees. He’s got paint all over his clothes. “But they’ll be old enough to enrol at your school before you know it. They grow up fast.”
“I’m sure,” Taeyong says, soft. “We’ve got to appreciate the time while we have it.”
Doyoung looks over at him. It’s just clicked where he recognises Taeyong’s face from. “You were friends with Sejeong, weren’t you?”
Taeyong lifts his head too, nods at Doyoung, smile fading a little. “How did you know? Have we met before?”
“No. I recognise you from one of her photos. I’ve been sorting through her old belongings since we got here.”
“No way,” Taeyong says, soft. “I don’t suppose you have it here?”
“I do, actually,” he says, standing to go to the cabinet, temporarily pushed to the side of the room to make way for the painting endeavour. “Did you know her well?”
“Well enough to have been in this house before. We did volunteer work for the same charity after she moved to Westview. She was always very proactive about it, and by far the quickest at making food bank deliveries around the neighbourhood. She was a real lifesaver to have on the team.”
Doyoung hums, passing Taeyong the photo album. He remembers the picture he’d recognised Taeyong from—it was Sejeong standing at a stall with three or four other people, all wearing the same t-shirts. Probably a fundraiser.
“I remember her talking about you a few times,” Taeyong says softly, flicking through the pages with reverence, careful not to touch anything but the edges. “Her brother Doyoung. She said you were a very hard worker, which is why you didn’t come to visit often. Good with people. I remember her talking about her nephews then, too, how she adored them. Chenle and… Renjun, is it?”
“That’s right,” Doyoung says softly.
“How old are they now?” Taeyong asks, lifting his head.
“They’re nearly one.”
Confusion passes over Taeyong’s face, and Doyoung’s fingers twitch. Taeyong’s eyes catch a picture of Sejeong standing next to a statue of some kind, pulling the same pose, and he breaks out into a smile. “Always knew how to lighten the mood, Sejeong,” he says fondly, turning the last page and closing the photobook. “Thank you for that. I’d never seen that picture of us together.”
“You’re welcome,” Doyoung says, taking the book back and placing it carefully on the side table. Chenle, having progressed onto standing in the paint and walking around on the newspaper, is now getting fussy about being covered in paint. Renjun, who hasn’t left a single blank patch of white paper under his art piece, is surveying his work carefully.
Doyoung slides down onto the floor in front of Chenle, grabbing the box he’d been saving for back-up: Play-Doh.
“Look at this, Chenle! Look, you can create all sorts with this.” He pulls a green lump out of the packet, then a red lump, and presents both to Chenle. Chenle looks at them with wide eyes and reaches out to take one lump with both hands, placing it in front of him. Then he takes the second lump the same way, setting it down carefully.
“He’s so sweet,” Taeyong says, soft. “You’re very good with them.”
“They’re everything to me,” Doyoung responds. “All I have left, now. Them and this house.”
“No partner?”
Doyoung pulls out another clump of Play-Doh in blue, and Chenle eyes it up as he squashes the previous one under two determined fists. “I had a husband. He passed nearly a year ago now.”
“I’m so sorry, Doyoung. How terrible to lose a sister and then your husband, so soon after.”
“Yes,” he says, looking firmly at the wedge of Play-Doh he’s squeezing into putty in his hands. “It’s been difficult. I think losing Jaehyun is what finally prompted me to come back here and sort out Sejeong’s house. He didn’t have much to leave behind, but she did. I’m glad I came. There’s some comfort in living in this neighbourhood she chose. It’s so peaceful here.”
“It is,” Taeyong agrees, also leaving the sofa to slide down and sit opposite Doyoung, cross-legged. He reaches out for the Play-Doh too, and Doyoung realises Renjun has been staring over his shoulder at where Chenle and Doyoung are trying out a new toy without him. Taeyong pulls off two coloured clumps, offering them out to Renjun. Renjun gives him a long look, curious, then accepts the first lump of Play-Doh. “I know we don’t know each other very well, Doyoung, but I want you to know you’re welcome to call on me, anytime. I’ll leave you with my phone number, and my house number up the street, and I’ll help you however you can. It can’t be easy, being here on your own. But you carry it well. Your boys are going to grow up with a great dad.”
Doyoung raises his eyes to look Taeyong in the face again. He sees genuine kindness there, one he’s rarely come across in his old line of work. It’s been a long time since he made a new friend all on his own—though he supposes he has Sejeong to thank for this, too.
“Thank you, Taeyong,” he says, as Chenle slides the blue piece of Play-Doh out of his hands, like if he does it gently enough Doyoung won’t notice. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
-
When he wakes up the next morning, he knows something is different. Not bad different, not good different—just typical different. He walks down the stairs to find the dining room table floating several inches in the air, a little boy stood in front of it, watching it with reverence.
“Renjun,” Doyoung sighs, and Renjun snaps his head around to the staircase. The table rights itself immediately, the centrepiece and table mats finding their places atop it. A blue glow hangs in the air for half a second, then snaps out of view.
“Wasn’t me,” Renjun says, hands behind his back.
“Yes it was. I saw you!” He wraps his dressing gown more tightly around him. “Where did you learn that, hm?”
“From you,” Renjun says with a little smile, rocking on his heels. “When we moved in you floated all the furniture like that.”
Doyoung steps to the bottom of the staircase, crossing his arms over his chest. “You need to be careful with things like that.”
“I was being careful!” A crashing noise rings out from the kitchen. “More careful than Chenle, anyway.”
Doyoung swings open the kitchen door to find the room in a state. Several cupboard doors are open, thrumming like they’d been violently shaken, and there’s a box of pasta split open and strewn all the way across the floor. The fridge door hangs open, and a green blur comes to a stop in front of it.
“Appa!” Chenle calls, then runs again, closing the fridge door and cupboard doors all in under a second. He slips on some of the pasta, and lands on his hands and knees on the floor.
“Ha ha,” Renjun says from behind him, and Doyoung quickly comes over to check on him.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.” Chenle is on his feet before he can even reach out for him. “You’re awake?”
“Yes,” Doyoung says, huffing. “And good thing, too. Just what do you think you’re doing in here?”
Renjun looks away, evasive, but Chenle just shrugs. “Looking for the cereal! We’re older now. We can get breakfast, right?”
“Right,” Doyoung says, rubbing two fingers to his forehead. “How old are you now?”
“We’re five,” the boys say in unison.
“Five already,” he mutters, waving his hand so the pasta collects back into its packet, seals itself up again, and fits back into its place on the shelf. “Why, why five? Was one not good enough?”
“It was fine,” Renjun says, dragging his socked feet across the kitchen tiles. “But you seemed lonely.”
Doyoung turns back to him, shoulders drooping, arms loosening. “You don’t have to age up for my sake, baby. You guys can take it slow. You can’t speed your way through life.”
“Says who?” Chenle says, then runs through to the living room in a blur. He leaves a gust of wind in his wake, the kitchen door swinging behind him. Doyoung sighs.
“I don’t want you to be lonely,” Renjun says quietly. “And five is more fun.”
Doyoung aches a little. “Your powers came on quickly.”
“I’m like you,” Renjun smiles. He reaches out towards the cereal box Chenle couldn’t find, perched on a high shelf over the sink, and a shaky blue light dislodges it. It floats across the room right towards him, and when it arrives Renjun clutches it to his chest, looking up and seeking approval from Doyoung.
“You are,” Doyoung says quietly, crouching down to thumb his cheek gently. “But you’ll be better than me, one day. Stronger. Maybe one day soon, considering how fast you’re growing.”
Renjun beams. “I couldn’t be better than you, Appa. We’ll be the same amount of good.”
“I’d like that,” he says, barely a whisper. “You’ll be careful with your powers, won’t you? Play well with Chenle, and use them for nice things only. Know what you’re capable of.”
“Duh,” Renjun says, reaching out for the bowls cupboard, floating two of the kid’s bowls towards the table. The bowls have grown with the boys too, bigger than they were before. Renjun clambers up onto a kitchen chair and guides the cereal packet with his magic until two bowls are carefully poured. “I’m a big boy now, Appa.”
“You are,” Doyoung says, sitting down in the chair next to him. Chenle comes zooming back into the room like he’d never left.
“Breakfast!” He clambers up onto his own seat, finds there are no spoons set out, and clambers down again to zoom over and get them.
“Did you want some too, Appa?” Renjun asks, lifting the cereal box hopefully.
“No thank you, Renjun,” Doyoung says, but does his part by summoning the milk from the fridge, pouring them both a full bowl. Renjun beams, and Chenle starts to eat so fast that he finishes before the milk bottle touches the table.
-
They don’t get dressed that day, staying in their pyjamas watching Arthur reruns in the living room. Renjun periodically makes small items float when he thinks Doyoung isn’t watching and Chenle can’t stay still for the length of a full episode, but it’s about as much calm as he’s going to get while adjusting to this new development.
When Chenle starts running around the house, it doesn’t take long for him to end up in Sejeong’s old room, bringing back with him a box full of her old junk. This one contains things like hairbrushes and jewellery boxes and old creams thrown in there to gather dust.
“Appa, what’s this?”
“Please don’t touch that, Chenle.”
“Why?”
Renjun is curled into Doyoung’s side on the sofa, but he perks up with interest when Chenle plonks the box beside them. “Because it’s not yours, is it? We shouldn’t touch things that aren’t ours.”
“But it’s in our house.”
“Yes, but this wasn’t always our house. This used to belong to your Auntie Sejeong.”
“Auntie Sejeong?” Renjun muses. “Where is she?”
Doyoung presses his lips together. “She’s not here anymore, baby. That’s why we’re living here. She gave it to us before she left to be with the angels.”
Chenle is already halfway through the contents of the box, piling her old necklaces on over his head one by one. “Can I have the jewellery?”
Doyoung runs a hand through the remaining bangles in the box. It’s not like he’d do much else with it. “I suppose you can. But take good care of them, okay? She trusted us with this.”
“Yes, Appa,” Chenle says, pleased, before starting to strut around the room, admiring the bangles on his wrist. He zooms over to the glass patio door, watching his reflection glitter under the living room lights.
Renjun has artfully laid out the remaining contents of the box on the floor, all encased in blue light, orderly so everything can be seen. “What will we do with it all?” he asks, never having left Doyoung’s side.
“We’ll keep what we need, give away what we don’t want, and throw away anything that’s not good for use anymore. Then when the house is tidied and sorted, maybe we could convert the extra bedrooms upstairs into rooms for the two of you. You’ll be needing your own space when you’ve grown up a bit more, hm?”
He pats Renjun’s head, now full of soft dark hair, and Renjun primly slides of the sofa and picks his way over the belongings.
“Let’s do it now, then,” he says, waving his hand and the TV pauses, freeze-frame. The speed in which the two of them have picked up their powers is breath-taking. “Then Sejeong can have her house tidy, and we can have our rooms pretty. And you can have our help.”
Doyoung hesitates. “You don’t have to, baby. You can watch your show.”
“But I want to help!” Renjun says, determined. He’s already skipping around the sofa, heading for the stairs. “Come on, Appa!”
“Okay,” he says, quietly, watching Chenle dancing in front of the patio doors. He takes a deep, steadying breath, then follows Renjun up the stairs.
-
Ten drops around that evening when they’re halfway through Sejeong’s boxes, because in the bustle of it all Doyoung had forgotten he’d agreed to have Ten over for dinner. Ten thankfully takes it all in his stride, ordering them pizza and sitting to help with the organising job. Chenle looks over at Ten as he comes to sit down, then glances at Doyoung. Doyoung shoots him a look and sends the boys a small mental nudge—don’t reveal your powers to anyone!—but Renjun just scoffs as if that had been obvious, and continues to pile up Sejeong’s books one by one. Chenle sits too, huffing as he sorts through her ornaments at normal speed until the pizza arrives.
With the floor cluttered with bags and piles of old belongings, they step outside into a mild evening and eat the pizza on the patio, the three of them still in pyjamas while Ten is in an all-black skinny jeans get-up. Doyoung can see why he’s not ready for children yet.
The sun starts to set as they finish up their meal, and they decide to stay outside for a while longer. He and Ten crack out some chardonnay to make up for the lack of a proper dinner while the twins run around the garden, pushing each other on the rope swing hanging from the old willow tree. It’s quiet out here, only the gentle sounds of their neighbours also enjoying their garden floating over the fence.
“They’ll have to go to school soon,” Ten says between sips, and Doyoung looks up from his glass. “They grow up so fast, don’t they?”
“School?” Doyoung says. Over on the swing, Chenle spots a ball sitting by their shed, and leaps from the swing to run for it. “They don’t need school. I can teach them.”
“Sure. I don’t doubt your ability to raise them better than centralised education, believe me. But they still need to mingle with other children, don’t they? Socialisation and all that. Not that I know a thing about kids, just that Taeyong was talking about it.”
Over on the grass, Renjun has run after Chenle, calling for him to throw the ball his way. “Taeyong,” Doyoung murmurs. “Which school does he teach at, do you know?”
“There’s only one school in Westview, honey,” Ten laughs. “He teaches the thirteen-year-olds there. Your kids aren’t quite there yet, are they?”
“It might not be long,” Doyoung sighs, taking another sip from his glass. “Do you really think it would be best for them to go?”
Ten shoots him a side-along look, sharp eyes, soft smile. “If Renjun grows up with only Chenle for company, he’s never going to meet another quiet soul like himself. If Chenle grows up only bouncing off Renjun, it’ll drive them both crazy in the long run. I get it, truly. I don’t like it when my cats leave the house for too long either. What business do they have out there, without me? Hanging out with other cats? But it’s natural. They can’t be cooped up all the time. They always appreciate me more when they come home.”
“I suppose so,” Doyoung says quietly. Further down the garden, Chenle throws the ball a little too hard, and it goes straight over the fence into next door’s garden.
“You’re protective, aren’t you?”
“Aren’t all parents?”
“I suppose so,” Ten smiles, kicking one knee up over the other. “They’ll be alright, you know, a few hours a day in a school without you. They’re brave boys.”
“I know. It’s me who needs them, not them who need me.”
“Don’t be so down on yourself,” Ten says, more gently than before. “You’re brave too.”
Lee Yeojeong from next door pops up over the fence, freshly-washed clothes over one shoulder, the boys’ ball in her hands. They cheer as she throws it over the fence, and she waves to Doyoung as she goes back to her washing line.
“I used to be,” Doyoung says, quietly. “I moved to Westview so I didn’t have to be brave anymore. So they didn’t have to be either.”
“But they still deserve to be children.”
“Yes,” he sighs. “They do.”
Later, after Ten leaves, he settles the boys down to bed. Their beds have grown and changed with them, from the toddler cribs to low little wooden bedframes. The bedroom is still decorated with the stork on the wall and the baby toys in the corner, waiting for the family to redecorate those details by choice.
“Appa,” Chenle says as Doyoung tucks him in, pointing at their bookshelf. That’s changed too, the Hungry Caterpillar transformed into Charlotte’s Web, Paddington Bear, and Fantastic Mr Fox.
“Do we still get a story?” Renjun says hopefully, clutching Chenle’s teddy to his chest.
“Of course. If you’d still like one.” Doyoung slides a Pete the Cat book off the shelf. “I actually wanted to ask you boys something.”
“Yes?” Chenle says, peering over the blanket as Doyoung sits beside him, the book in his lap. “Weren’t we good today? I didn’t run around in front of Ten at all!”
“No, of course you were good, baby. You did very well. It’s not about that.”
“Then what?”
He takes a deep breath. “Do you boys want to try going to school?”
“Yes!” Chenle exclaims, springing up in his bed, and Renjun sits up straighter too, beaming.
“I would love to go to school!”
Doyoung swallows. “It might be hard, you know? I won’t be able to stay with you, and there will be lots of other children there, people you’ve never met before—”
“But Taeyong is a teacher at school, isn’t he?” Renjun says, pulling his legs underneath him. “And he’s nice. I think school will be fun!”
“School! School! School!” Chenle chants, jumping around on the bed. Doyoung tugs at his wrist, coaxing him back into the bed again.
“Okay, okay. I’ll get in touch with the school tomorrow and see if they can enrol you, okay? We’ll need uniforms and books, and some proper food for your lunches...”
“We can still sort out Auntie Sejeong’s things and decorate the bedrooms together,” Renjun says, climbing out of his bed to come and sit between Doyoung and Chenle. “I promise we can, after school! We won’t forget. We can do both things.”
“Okay,” Doyoung says, stroking down the back of Renjun’s soft pyjama shirt. “You boys look after me well, don’t you?”
“It’s only fair,” Renjun says, leaning in to hug Doyoung around the middle. Doyoung holds him right back, comforted by his small hands in Doyoung’s shirt, Chenle still bouncing in the bed beside them, grin wide.
“Okay, Chenle, settle down now. You can only go to school if you’re good, okay? Absolutely no using your powers there, you understand? We need to fit in around here, and other families aren’t like us. The other children might not understand you otherwise.”
“Okay,” they chorus together, and Renjun burrows into Doyoung’s side.
“Story now please,” he says, pulling open the hardback book.
“Will you both settle down after this? Chenle?”
“Yes,” they chorus again.
“I’m just excited,” Chenle says, coming up closer to lean into Renjun’s side so the two of them can see the pictures.
“I know.” Doyoung ruffles his hair. “It’s a good thing. You’re ready to face the world. I’m very proud of you.”
Chenle smiles again, eyes twinkling with the praise. “Thank you, Appa.”
“My big boy,” Doyoung says softly, before laying the book out flat, clearing his throat and diverting his attention to the Pete the Cat. “Now, when pouring rain and gray skies cancel Pete the Cat’s beach day plans, a big box is all he needs to beat the rainy-day blues. ‘When you want to dream of something new, thinking outside the box is a groovy thing to do!’”
-
Taeyong is over for a movie night when it happens. Doyoung had invited him around on a whim when they’d bumped into each other at the grocery store, because it’s a rare treat to settle in for something a little more grown up than Peppa Pig. Taeyong, easy-going as ever, hadn’t paused before accepting the offer.
“You seem to have taken to Westview well,” he’s saying now. Truthfully, they aren’t paying too much attention to the rom-com on screen, but have been talking about the kids going to school, about sorting out the house with Ten, and about plans for the boys’ new rooms. “You’ve only been here a week, and you’re already renovating.”
“It was always the goal to sort out the house as much as possible when I moved in here. I’m blessed that the boys want to help with that, and that you and Ten have been so good to me, helping me move in here. I can see myself building a life in Westview.”
“You already are,” Taeyong tells him, swirling the wine in his glass gently. “It’s like you’ve always been here.”
“I love this town,” Doyoung admits with a smile, resting his head back against the sofa, his body angled sideways to look at Taeyong. “I don’t want to leave if I can help it.”
Taeyong seems pleased with the confession. “Then I’ll do my best to support you in that.”
Doyoung feels incredibly grateful, all at once, that he’d met Taeyong and Ten in just his first few days here. With them at his back he feels he can’t go wrong, even if he is still nervous to send the kids to school.
“Excuse me for one moment, can I use your bathroom?” Taeyong says, standing and placing his wine glass down. “I promise I’ll be quiet going past the boys’ bedroom.”
“Of course. Upstairs, to your left.”
Taeyong smiles at him, then leaves to tread the stairs quietly. Doyoung pauses the movie as he waits, and sits in the serene silence of the living room for a minute.
He feels it coming, he thinks, even if it’s just subconscious. It’s too suspiciously quiet. He’s made a point for it never to be too quiet since he arrived here.
An orange glow breaches the fence at the bottom of his garden, and he sits up straight, then stands, watching it approach. The image doesn’t come into clear view until it phases through his glass patio doors. The figure of a man, tinted a translucent orange, enters his living room with urgency. Johnny hasn’t even dressed down for the occasion, red cape flowing behind him, blue tunic completely out of place in Westview.
“Doyoung,” he says, voice echoing through from the astral plane. “You don’t know how glad I am to see you! Trust me, it is not easy to get into this place. Okay, I need you to listen to me carefully. You might not realise it, but you’re stuck in a spell here. The whole town is. We came looking for you and the boys and found this instead—it’s huge, Doyoung. There’s something very powerful behind all this, and we need your help to find it and stop it.”
Doyoung looks at him impassively. He doesn’t understand how Johnny has found him here, but he can’t reveal his hand.
“It’s okay,” he says. “I’ve got everything under control. You don’t need to worry about me here.”
“No, listen to me, you feel that way because of the spell! Do you know who I am, Doyoung? Do you know who you are? You can break yourself out of this!”
“No,” he says calmly. “Westview is fine. No one needs your help here.”
Johnny pauses. His expression shifts. “Doyoung?”
“You should’ve left this alone,” Doyoung tells him, mustering up energy in his hands, red and thrumming. “It’s not your concern. You should forget all about it.”
“No,” Johnny’s form says, raising his hands as if to calm a frightened animal, but he can’t access his abilities from the astral plane. “Please don’t tell me you’re saying what I think you’re saying.”
“I won’t ask you again,” he says, hands shaking slightly. “Leave it.”
It takes barely a nudge of his magic to cast Johnny way back, out of his house, out of his garden, far out of Westview. When the room is quiet again, when Westview is safe, he reinforces the town’s astral plane to stop him from re-entering. His vision flashes red, then fades, fingers curling.
After a moment of standing in his living room, listening out for any other disruptions, Taeyong comes padding down the stairs behind him. His magic fades from his hands into nothing, leaving him looking out of the patio windows.
“Doyoung?” Taeyong says behind him. “Are you alright?”
Doyoung turns around, pulling the smile back onto his face. “I’m fine. Just stretching my legs. I’m going to check on the boys for a minute.”
“Okay,” Taeyong says, brushing Doyoung’s arm as he passes him at the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll settle in with more of your delicious chocolates, then.”
Doyoung looks over his shoulder to glance around once more as Taeyong passes by him. The living room remains undisturbed.
In the boys’ shared bedroom, the two of them are sleeping peacefully, no sign of anything out of the ordinary. He wanders in, pressing a kiss to the side of Renjun’s head very gently, watching as they sleep. He briefly checks their dreams, just to make sure nothing is disturbing them—Chenle is dreaming of running up a tall building, going fast enough to make it to the rooftop, victoriously admiring the city view from above. It makes him feel elated. Renjun isn’t dreaming of anything in particular but the faint impressions of colours; red, blue, and green.
Doyoung changes the track of Chenle’s dream, just a little, so he’s sitting in the branches of their willow tree instead. It excites him just as much to look over Westview, spotting the school several streets away. Much safer.
He closes their bedroom door after him, and after a second of thought, wards it from magic other than his own and Renjun’s. Just in case. It doesn’t hurt to be careful, after all.