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Taehyung’s squinting at code lines when it starts. He’s so concentrated that it takes him a few seconds to pick up on the sound and a few more to locate it. He furrows his eyebrows when he realises it’s coming from the baby monitor, and it’s humming.
The monitor’s near the cooker, carried there and then forgotten in the midst of throwing dinner together. He can’t see the screen, but he hears the voice clearly. The humming flows gently across the room, capturing his attention, seizing his heart. He listens as the hums become words and time stills. It’s a lullaby, soft and sweet. It’s a love declaration, a little more than a whisper.
Taehyung sits in the middle of a messy kitchen as the air sings images of future and draws promises of love.
In one little house
More than a memory
*
Jeongguk draws in and puffs out. With each puff, more smoke swirls around him. He inhales that as well, eyes closed. It’s been a long day and he’s exhausted. This is the first time he’s been outside in fifteen hours. He’s alone and it’s as quiet as a courtyard in the middle of the city will ever get. He breathes in air, uncaring that it’s impure, and relaxes against the wall, letting the bricks do the job of holding him up.
He’s on cigarette number two when he hears the door being pushed open and clicking closed. He listens to steps on concrete and clothes ruffling, but keeps his eyes shut, takes another drag and hopes he’ll be left alone.
He is.
He breathes in again and lets time pass by. The other person stays, he feels them, but they don’t speak and don’t move.
Jeongguk lingers until he can no longer taste the nicotine. He struggles to open his eyes. As he adjusts to the lights of thousands of windows, the other person comes into view.
It’s a man.
Crouched down and folded over in a corner of the courtyard. He’s not wearing the white coat or scrubs Jeongguk was expecting, but actual clothes. He shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t even have found this door. Jeongguk’s too tired to care.
He pushes himself off the wall and stretches his arms. The man doesn’t look up, doesn’t move. Jeongguk’s eyes slide over him.
It’s the stillness that gets to him, so unnatural it’s unsettling.
“Hey, you okay?”
Nothing.
“Hey,” Jeongguk repeats, louder. “Are you okay?” He takes a few steps forward.
This time, there’s movement. The man lifts his head and his eyes meet Jeongguk’s.
They’re hopeless.
Jeongguk has seen desperation, has seen devastation, has seen sorrow and pain. Enough to last him a lifetime. He’s never seen such hopelessness.
They stare at each other, the man silent and Jeongguk unsure.
He takes in the man’s face and finds hopelessness there too, etched in every feature. “Do you need any help?” he asks.
The man’s lips part, but no word comes out.
Jeongguk walks over and squats down. “I’m a doctor in this hospital. I can try to help.”
The man’s eyes are dark. He bites his bottom lip and pulls on it.
Jeongguk waits.
“I don’t know what to do.”
Jeongguk nods. “Maybe I can help.”
The man’s eyes drop to the ground.
“Are you here for a visit with a doctor?”
Head shake.
“Here to see someone?”
Surprisingly, the man snorts. He covers his face with his hands. “Fuck.”
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Jeongguk tries.
The man sits on the ground, keens to his chest. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” He asks.
Jeongguk does. His bed. But his bed has waited all day and most of the night, it can wait a little longer. “No.”
The man sighs, breaths drawn out. “Eight months ago I had a one night stand. You know? You’re meant to fuck someone and never see them again.”
Jeongguk knows. He nods.
“We had sex and I left.” He laughs but there’s no humour in it. “Fuck. I didn’t even spend the night. Didn’t want to. I went home and never saw her again.” His face disappears behind his hands again.
Jeongguk waits patiently. He cannot guess where this story is going.
“I got a call today. She– Fuck.” The man’s hands shape into fists and he presses them into his eyes. “She had a baby. It’s mine. She died from complications from it.”
Questions fill Jeongguk’s mind immediately. Before he can start to sort through them and figure out which one will help the man the most, he speaks again.
“I was getting ready to leave work. Now, I have a baby. I don’t know what to do,” the man pulls on a bracelet and Jeongguk realises it’s from the hospital. It must be the baby’s details. “I didn’t even wash the dishes this morning– I need to buy everything. Clothes, food, and baby proof the apartment and wash the dishes and get toys, and books and those things… Where you put them and push them… Fuck.”
Jeongguk sits down. The ground is filthy but this will take longer than figuring out which floor the man should be on. This is not something he can help with. He crosses his legs. “Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”
The man makes a vague gesture with his hand, which Jeongguk interprets as an okay to go ahead.
“Is there someone with you in the hospital?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Okay. Have you been in the maternity ward yet?”
The man nods, “Yes.”
“Do you know which doctor you talked to?”
“Can’t remember the name.”
“That’s fine, we can figure it out later.” Jeongguk tries a small smile. “Have you seen the baby?”
The man’s head drops to his knees. “Yes,” he murmurs against his trousers. “It’s a girl. She’s under observation because she’s premature.”
Jeongguk nods even if the man can’t see him. “I’m going to ask some difficult questions now, okay?”
The man mumbles a ‘yes’ against his legs.
“Could there be any doubt the baby is yours?”
“No,” the man breathes out. “It’s mine. They run the test.”
“Have you ever thought about being a father?”
The man straightens and shoves his hands in his hair, pulling on the strands before letting go. He leans on the wall behind him. “I– I never thought I would… I– Most of my exes are men.”
“Do you want to be a father?”
The man’s head falls back. “Yes. What else can I do? It’s a baby. It’s–” his voice breaks. “She’s mine.”
Jeongguk understands. When he was doing his residency he spent a couple of months on the maternity and obstetrics’ floor. The babies looked so small and fragile, their vulnerability tangible. He felt a protectiveness he’d never felt before. He saw enamoured parents and difficult situations, and realised the responsibility of taking care of a child. Children depend on adults. They deserve love and commitment. They shouldn’t be with someone that isn’t ready, doesn’t want them or hasn’t been given a choice. It’s not fair to the baby, it’s not fair to the parent.
“You didn’t ask for her. You didn’t know. You weren’t given a choice. She doesn’t have to be your responsibility,” he tells the man, even if it’s a tough thing to say.
The man’s eyes snap to him. He’s surprised.
“Is there anyone else involved?”
“The… The grandparents. They’re not happy,” the man sighs.
“With you?”
“Yes,” the man nods. “They’re the ones that asked for the test. They have a lawyer and…”
The rest of the sentence never comes and he trails off.
“Is there anyone you can call?”
“Like a lawyer?”
“I was thinking more of a friend. But a lawyer would be a good idea too.”
The man’s head collapses against his thighs again. “I don’t have a lawyer. I– Fuck I don’t even know a lawyer.”
Jeongguk does. “I know someone. I can give you the details.” He hopes this man can afford a lawyer because Seokjin is going to kill him if not. “What about calling someone that can come be with you?”
“My friend will come. Later. He… He wasn’t in the country..”
“What about now?” Jeongguk presses, gently.
The man continues to speak to his legs. “I don’t know. I’ll have to go back up,” he non-responds. “ It just– It became… A lot and I needed air.”
“I get it. Are the grandparents still there?”
“Yes, somewhere. They want me to sign to give them custody.”
Jeongguk doesn’t know what to reply. Custody to the child’s grandparents may not be such a bad idea, if this man isn’t ready for fatherhood. He can’t bring himself to voice this. So he waits.
“The girl… The mother. She wanted me to have the baby if something happened to her,” the man explains. He looks at Jeongguk. “She– She wrote it down, my name and all… I don’t know why. I don’t, but she did. That’s why the grandparents got the lawyer and test… But I’m the– The father and when it proved that, the hospital called me…” He presses his fingers to his forehead, elbows on his knees. “I can’t just… Leave the baby.”
Jeongguk can’t hold back any longer. “But can you be a father?”
The arms drop and then man stares. He nods. “I don’t know, but– I think so. I–” His brow furrows and the helplessness in his eyes gives way to determination. “I make money. I live by myself. I–”
“Do you want to?” Jeongguk interrupts him.
“She’s so small,” the man says. “Yes. She’s mine.”
“You didn’t as–”
“Even if I didn’t ask for this,” the man cuts him off, his voice comes out forcefully. “She’s mine. I can learn to be a father. To be good.”
Jeongguk holds back his sigh. He doesn’t know if the man understands the implications of what he’s saying, but it’s not Jeongguk’s problem. The man seems decided and doesn’t look as lost as he did.
“I want her,” the man stares at the hospital bracelet on his wrist. He tugs on it, talking to himself rather than Jeongguk. “I do. She’s my… My daughter.” His eyes grow wide and his mouth parts, hit by the word.
Jeongguk watches it sink in. He takes the man in and realises that he’s attractive. Very attractive. He’s surprised he didn’t see it immediately. This is the kind of man that would catch his eye on the streets or make Jeongguk want to talk to a stranger in a bar. He wonders if the baby will look like him and the thought stuns him. It’s a weird thing to think of a stranger’s baby.
“Sorry for rumbling,” the man says and licks his bottom lip. He’s looking at Jeongguk now and gives him an uncertain smile.
“No need to apologise.” He smiles too, makes it big. This man clearly needs it.
“Thank you. For listening.” The man straightens and runs a hand through his hair. It’s black and thick, too long in the front, falling over his forehead messily. It suits him. “I’m going to go back.”
“No worries,” Jeongguk gets back on his feet as well, “I asked.”
“Would you mind giving me the name of the lawyer? I might need it.” His demeanour is strikingly different now. He stands straight and the vulnerability in his eyes is gone.
Jeongguk gives him Seokjin’s details. He explains that Seokjin handles mergers and acquisitions, but can give him some advice and will know who to refer him to. Then, he shows the man the way back from the staff’s courtyard to the reception area and visitors’ elevators.
“Good luck,” he says.
The man stares at him and Jeongguk can’t walk away. They stand still in the middle of the corridor, and Jeongguk waits for the man to do or say something.
The elevator’s doors open with a ding. The man startles slightly. He glances at the lift and then back to Jeongguk. “Thank you.” He bows his head and disappears.
Jeongguk stares at the spot where he was standing for a second, then turns towards the Emergency Room. He’s sure he’ll never forget the encounter and knows it’ll take him days to stop thinking about the man’s story. It’s not one you hear everyday.
He makes it into the staff area of the Emergency Room before he turns back around and rushes to the staff elevator. He let the man go back up without finding the responsible doctor, knowing he’d be facing angry grandparents while coming to terms with the biggest shock of his life. He doesn’t even know the man’s name. Somehow that seems important.
He catches the man exiting the bathroom.
“Hey,” he calls out, walking towards him.
The man’s eyes widen, then furrow when he recognises him.
Jeongguk is honest. “I don’t think you should be alone right now.”
The man licks his lips. “I don’t have a choice.”
“My shift’s over. I can stay, if you want.”
The man is silent and seems to mull over it. “Are you sure?” he asks finally.
“I don’t think you should be alone,” Jeongguk repeats. “I can stay. Until your friend arrives.”
“I– Thank you.” The man bows. “My name is Taehyung.”
“Jeongguk.”
“I need to sit for a second.”
Jeongguk points to the white plastic chairs nailed to the wall under the ‘Floor 5: Maternity’ sign.
They sit. Taehyung rests his arms on his thighs and looks at the wall in front of them, Jeongguk stays silent. He scrolls through his phone and doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t speak as they sit, nor when Taehyung announces his plan–he’ll go see the baby again, then talk to the doctor, call the lawyer, deal with the grandparents. Jeongguk nods and follows. He’s just here for this man not to be alone, to stand besides him until his friend arrives, not to contribute. It’s not his place to.
The neonatal intensive care unit is a disheartening place. He tried to avoid it as much as he could when he was training, overwhelmed by the worry that permeate the room.
“Do you want me to come in?” he asks.
Taehyung’s teeth sink into his bottom lip. “If you wouldn’t mind.”
Jeongguk enters with him.
A nurse asks to see the bracelet as soon as they walk in and gives them protective masks to wear. Her eyes glide questioningly over Jeongguk, but she keeps her curiosity to herself.
Taehyung moves to the end of the room. There are other parents scattered around the place, but most medical cribs are alone, just surrounded by tubes and beeping machines.
The crib Taehyung stops next to is an incubator. All the equipment is around it but none of it is turned on. The baby must be doing well.
Jeongguk stands a few steps back.
Taehyung looks down at the small body in the small bed. A smile slowly grows on his face, and he shakes his head.
“You know,” Taehyung whispers and Jeongguk is forced to close the distance he was keeping to hear him. “I didn’t even wanna go out that night. My friends dragged me. I didn’t really drink. I didn’t plan on meeting anybody. I– We used a condom.”
Life is inexplicable. What happens to us does not always have a reason, cannot be controlled. Jeongguk’s long accepted this. “Sometimes stuff just happens.”
Taehyung nods. He must be trying to process a thousand different thoughts clashing in his mind. If he’s struggling, he hides it well. He looks nothing like the Taehyung Jeongguk met earlier.
Jeongguk looks at the baby. She’s tiny, in a white onesie and hat, wrapped up in blankets. She’s sleeping on her tummy, her hands curled into wrinkled fists. She has chubby cheeks. She’s delicate, cute.
Taehyung crouches down and starts talking to her. It’s a murmured whisper, so Jeongguk moves away again, giving them privacy.
The baby must sense Taehyung’s presence because her little hand twitches and she opens her eyes. Jeongguk expects her to start whining but she doesn’t. She watches Taehyung as Taehyung watches her back, stunned to silence.
The scene is touching, overwhelming in a good way. Jeongguk observes them, the man who’s just decided to be a father and the baby who doesn’t know she’s turned a man’s life upside down.
He doesn’t know that it’s two lives that she’s changed forever.
He hopes they’ll be okay.
He thinks they will.
He doesn’t know that he’s just smoked his last cigarette ever.
*
For worse or for better
And I will be all you need
Taehyung finds them in the rocking chair by the window. Jeongguk holding her tightly in his arms, Saebyeok gripping his fingers with her fist. She’s not that small anymore, but she hasn’t lost the habit.
She’s asleep, little features distended and peaceful, safe in her father’s arms. Like this, it’d be impossible to guess at her fierce character, her smart mouth. She’s only three but she’s never still, never quiet, keeps them on their feet at all times. With her wide smiles and high pitched giggles. She makes them so proud.
She was a surprise, the biggest shock and most precious gift. She changed Taehyung’s life and brought him Jeongguk.
Someday we'll wake up
With thousands of pictures
Jeongguk sees him. Their eyes lock but the singing doesn’t stop. Taehyung leans on the door to fill his eyes with them. ‘I love you,’ he mouths.
Jeongguk has a beautiful voice. He sings to put Saebyeok to bed most nights. This lullaby though, Taehyung hasn’t heard before.
Beside you I'll stand through the good and the bad
We'll give all that we have
And we'll build this love from the ground up
From the ground up
The words, they tell a story he feels his.
He listens until the singing becomes hums and Jeongguk rocks in the chair once, twice, one last time. He comes to a stop with a final, whispered hum.
Jeongguk stands and moves to the little white bed they’ve just bought. He deposits Saebyeok in it and tucks her in. Switches on the grey light with the pink stars on her dressing table and bends down to leave a kiss on her forehead. He whispers something, Taehyung knows it’s a ‘goodnight’ and an ‘I Iove you’.
When he walks to him, Taehyung pulls him closer. “I’ve never heard that before.”
Jeongguk slips his hands below his jumper, palm firm and warm on his back. “It’s new.”
“Did you come up with it?” Taehyung asks, gently putting a lock behind Jeongguk’s ear.
“Yes.”
“It’s beautiful, Guk.”
“It’s yours.”
“Mine?”
“About us.”
Taehyung shakes his head. This man. This gorgeous man who’s been his rock since the day they met. With whom he’s building a life. “You’re wasted as a doctor,” he jokes.
He slips out of the embrace and captures one of Jeongguk’s hands. He pulls, walking backwards, guiding him to their bedroom. He lays on his bed and draws him on top of him. “Sing it again, please.”
“I love you,” Jeongguk says instead. “Everyday. Still.”
Taehyung beams at the brilliant smile and sparkling eyes. “Me too. I love you too.”
Jeongguk leans down and takes his mouth. The kiss is slow and languid. A promise as much as the song. Taehyung holds his face.
“I want to hear the song. Please,” Taehyung implores when they break apart.
So Jeongguk sings.
More than a memory
More than saying I do
Kiss you goodnights and I love yous
Me and you baby
Build our own family
One day at a time
Ten little toes, a painted pink room
Our beautiful baby looks just like you
Taehyung pulls him against him and kisses him hard.