Work Text:
Hongjoong steps away from his desk, stretching his neck and back lightly after sitting down for so long.
His joints ache, making him contemplate on his husband's suggestion of going to the chiropractor.
Maybe it was his age catching up on him, with him being in his forties now. It could be the result of spending nearly 10 hours each day hunched down on his desk in the studio, trying his best to produce music, for the past 20 years. Perhaps it could be due to his reckless youth, his wondrous twenties, where he still had the energy and physical ability to hole up in his studio for days, not sleeping on a proper bed and didn't have the money to get a better, more ergonomic chair. Those energetic days are coming back with a revenge now.
Or perhaps it's from those sleepless nights more than 14 years ago, where he and his husband would carry their crying toddlers on their backs and fronts for hours on end; be it trying to soothe them to sleep, or whenever they go to the grocery stores, or whenever their children simply needed comfort.
Joong relishes the dull ache now, smiling fondly at the memories of being smothered by 6 kids, each one asking for hugs or piggybacks or shoulder rides. Even well until they're entering elementary school. Even when they were far too big for Appa to piggyback. Papa finally had to sit them down one night, just to explain that it was just not possible for Appa to piggyback Yunho while Mingi was also latching around his Appa's chest like a monkey.
(Hongjoong felt lowkey offended, honestly, because he could deadlift 100kg no problem even now)
((But Hwa looked so concerned, so that evened things out))
Hongjoong turns back to his desk, peering on his screen to close down some softwares and then turning his setup off for the day. The weekend starts today and Maddox could fuck himself if he asked for Joong to work after hours now.
(He honestly wants to, because hey there's nothing wrong with finishing a project faster and getting more song royalties that can be invested in the kids’ college funds. However Hongjoong’s fear of his husband sex-banning him is greater than his project partner whining and nagging)
So he gathers his jacket, pocketing his phone and checking his project schedules one last time before closing the studio door behind him. Hongjoong waits until the smart lock sings a tune to tell him his office is secured now.
(Cursed was the day he told Hwa he didn't want a smart key for his home studio, convincing his husband of the beauty of analog key turning and locking from a simple twist of his fingers.
He changed the locks soon after he found Mingi and Yunho hiding away in this studio that he built in their backyard, because they didn't want to see Papa after they came home with their report cards, and also after he realised that somebody had been syphoning his Pepsi stash from the minifridge)
((Though he understood the need to hide because Papa can be scary sometimes))
(((But those Pepsi were his, they were his guilty pleasure after a long day of work, there's a reason why he hid the sugary drinks in the studio)))
((((Because Papa can be scary))))
The walk over to the main house is short, his studio just 20 metres away, tucked in one side of their backyard.
When they had first moved into this house, Hongjoong only had a small studio space rental downtown. He had wanted to expand, and was thinking of renting a building downtown as per Maddox’s advice. Hongjoong was pretty tempted by some of the spaces that Maddox had forwarded to him, but then it hit him of how much time his work could occupy his days.
If he were to rent downtown, he might as well move into the space and only come home once a week, which wasn’t what Hongjoong wanted. At the time he already felt like he was losing grip on how fast his children were growing, and it scared Hongjoong to miss more moments together. It wasn’t what his husband and children deserved.
So he talked about his concerns to the love of his life, who patiently listened to them and they discussed for hours, forgetting to sleep but not regretting their drowsiness when morning arrived. They spent days after the first talk brainstorming, also dragging Maddox into the talks.
They eventually compromised on building Joong’s current studio. Hwa wanted Hongjoong to not be uncomfortable and cold even for a minute when it's winter, the former only agreeing to a home studio that takes less than a minute to go to rather than Joong's original plan of building it far at the furthest edge of their large property where it's the quietest. It has the best soundproofing and heating system, to keep the kids' noises away from their hardworking Appa, and to keep him comfortable and warm when the cold sets in, but still has a large one-way window that overlooks their backyard, so that Hongjoong could still look at the kids playing.
Hongjoong couldn't be more grateful of his husband's understanding of his work demands, allowing Hongjoong a sanctuary for his arts and music while still making him feel like he wasn't abandoning his family.
(He still remembers one winter night years before. Hwa's flushed face, stained with tears, and coffee-colored eyes filled with disappointment towards Hongjoong. He never wants to put that expression on his beloved's face ever again.)
Their back patio door is open, because it was spring and Seonghwa loved the fresh breeze coming in from the backyard, carrying the scent of rain and blooming flowers, swaying their curtains softly. The sun has begun its slow descent now, painting a faint marmalade hue on the house's white sidings, and deepening the soft peach of Seonghwa's spring curtains. It's a picture of peace for Hongjoong, and his heart flutters at the notion of coming into their bustling house, warm smiles welcoming him after a long day of work.
Though the moment he steps into the house, he feels like something was off.
The house is quiet.
Eerily quiet.
Hongjoong and Seonghwa are raising 6 boys, all in their teenage years now, with the youngest about to turn 13. There has rarely ever been a quiet moment in their house. Unless the boys were off to camp or a sleepover, the house would always be bustling. There would be some singing (Jongho), screaming (San, Yunho and Wooyoung), laughing (Mingi and Yeosang), or clattering, be it in the kitchen or somewhere in their house that needed cleaning (Seonghwa).
There should be noise, but there is none now.
Hongjoong glances at the calendar pasted on the notice board by the kitchen pantry. It’s Friday.
Friday is for Jongho's soccer practice, San's Taekwondo sessions and Yeosang's pottery club. Another glance, to the clock on the microwave, tells Hongjoong that his husband is probably on the way to pick up Jongho and San, while Yeosang may already be on the bus with Mark, the boy next door who is also in the pottery club.
That leaves three boys who have their Fridays free, and dare might Hongjoong say the loudest unit of his bunch. Especially Wooyoung.
Since the beginning of the school year last month, Hongjoong’s Friday has been stepping into the house to Wooyoung’s screams or peals of laughter, caused by Mingi and/or Yunho. Either due to their teasing or because they beat him on Super Smash Bros for the umpteenth time.
It's silent now.
Where are they?
Hongjoong fished out his phone, checking his chat app just in case he missed out on something. He chuckles at the first text.
From Sannie:
Appa, I ripped my taekwondo pants again. I'm sorry 😭
From Yeosangie:
On the bus with Mark now, Appa! I have something for you and Papa, so look forward to it (◕ᴗ◕✿)
From My Forever ❤️:
Jongho's practice just ended. Going to San's dojo now. The coach is thinking about getting Jongho to practise with the highschoolers, what do you think babe?
From Maddox-hyung:
Do you think your husband would mind if you work this weekend? I need your opinion on this boy group song lyrics.
Huh. He scrolls down.
Nothing from the three troublemakers.
Hongjoong types his replies, though his mind was still baffled to the whereabouts of his three other kids.
To Sannie:
That's the fourth time this quarter, Sannie, you gotta ask Papa now :D
To Yeosangie:
Have a safe trip, sweetheart. Can't wait to see what you're bringing for us ^^ Say hi to Mark from me.
To My Forever ❤️:
We'll talk once you're home with the boys, safe and sound. Have a safe drive, love ❤️
To Maddox-hyung:
Do ask him yourself, I'm fucking scared of asking.
Hongjoong was about to text Yunho to ask where he and his brothers are, since at least one of them would usually text when they got home, when he hears murmurs coming from down the hall, where the boys' rooms were located.
So that's where they were, he thinks to himself. But why so quiet?
Hongjoong steps lightly, feeling like he’s intruding on some sort of moment here that he was not allowed to see nor hear. But his heart worries, because the lack of noise is new and honestly, slightly terrifying (he doesn’t even want to imagine when all of his boys would leave for college and how silent the house would be, nope).
The murmurs turn to whispers now, slightly muffled due to the white pine doors of their rooms, but he can hear them coming from the furthest room down the hall, where Yunho and San have been sharing since their second year of primary.
Hongjoong braces himself as he stands outside the door and identifies the three voices behind it.
They're all home from school but didn't say anything, did something happen? Hongjoong wonders but he dismisses the needless worry. He’d rather just ask them right away.
So he knocks, gently, in three soft taps.
The whispers silences for a split second, and Yunho calls out "Yes? Appa, is that you?"
"Yeah. Can I come in?"
"Sure!" There are subdued yet still frantic steps to the door, which opens with Yunho grinning down at Hongjoong and stepping aside to let his Appa into the room.
(Since when did he grow to be that tall?)
Hongjoong stand by Yunho's desk and took a quick glance around the room. Things seem… normal.
Mingi is lying on his stomach on the fluffy rug that San demanded they have in his shared room, looking up from where he was probably scrolling through his phone, passing Hongjoong a bright smile. Comic books are scattered around on the rug, spilling over onto their polished wooden floor. Just by the corner near the closet sits an overflowing laundry basket that needs immediate relief, and next to it is the haphazard pile of San's and Yunho's athletic shoes and other sports gear. Opened chip bags sat in the middle of the rug, one finished to its crumbs and the other halfway there.
Hongjoong gives the oldest a pointed look over the state of the room, to which Yunho just sheepishly smiles at. These boys, seriously, their Papa would blow over the mess.
Hongjoong pulls his gaze away from the shipwreck of this teenage sanctuary. Nothing seems amiss, except...
Wooyoung sits cross-legged on San's messy, plushie-filed bed, fingers fiddling on his lap. He flashes Hongjoong a hesitant smile, "Hi Appa, did you just finish work?"
"Yeah, I entered the house and it was so quiet, and there was no text from either one of you so I thought you guys haven't gotten home yet. I was a bit worried."
"Sorry Appa, we stayed in my room right after we got home, we forgot to text you." Yunho says, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck
"Yeah, we should've at least told you, sorry Appa." Mingi adds, glancing towards Wooyoung.
The air is stagnant, awkward, so Hongjoong asks, "Are you guys okay?"
He catches Yunho widening his eyes at Mingi, mouthing something, and Mingi gritting his teeth and slightly pointing his head to Wooyoung, who is quick to say, "Yeah, we're fine, Appa, nothing wrong at all."
"Really?" He raises an eyebrow, suspicious. "You sure?"
Yunho and Mingi look absolutely unsure, as they keep trading looks with one another.
"Uhhhhhh, gosh, I'm so thirsty. Those chips were waaaaay too dry. Hey Mingi, wanna grab some juice with me or something?" Yunho blurts out, eyes darting towards the door, signalling Mingi to get out of the room.
(Do they seriously think Hongjoong couldn't see?)
"Sure Yunho, gee I'm so thirsty too." The second tallest boy shoots Wooyoung an apologetic look, before dashing out of the room together with Yunho, their usual running-stomping echoing through the hallway. Wooyoung throws a dirty look at the wide open door of Yunho's room (probably cursing at his brothers' shadows with his eyes) before looking at Hongjoong, who has now crossed his arms over his chest, and leans against the edge of Yunho's cluttered desk. A book falls from the desk onto a crumpled paper pile on the floor just as Hongjoong’s weight shifts the furniture slightly.
(Seonghwa is going to flip when he sees this room, Hongjoong just knows)
"Wooyoung-ah," he calls softly, and the boy tenses minutely, hesitance painted on his face. "Did something happen?"
Hongjoong's eyes are drawn to Wooyoung's fingers pulling on the hem of his cardigan sleeves, fidgeting endlessly. This is Wooyoung's tic, Hongjoong recognizes. A rare occurrence, really. Wooyoung is only ever like this whenever he is worried or nervous about something, and not knowing how to spell it out.
The last time his November-born son was visibly nervous like this was spring last year, voice shaking and soft unlike how he usually would speak - confident and loud - as he asked for permission to join an out of city dance camp in the summer. Both he and Seonghwa had understood back then why Wooyoung had been so nervous; it was a rather pricey camp to attend.
Having six kids still in school age meant that Hongjoong and Seonghwa were never deprived of summer activities that needed their support; be it financial, physical and mental.
Yeosang had been planning to attend a visual art day camp, San had a scheduled two-week Taekwondo day camp followed by his red-black belt Taekwondo promotion test that mid-summer. By then, Mingi had already registered for a contemporary music camp, while Yunho had already been chosen by his Rover Scout to assist in the Cub Scout activities that Jongho would also attend.
Hongjoong and Seonghwa were already spending a lot for the other kids' activities. Though they didn’t divulge how much money they had spent, every one of their kids had known because Seonghwa had overheard them discussing each of their activity costs under the pretence of studying together in Jongho's and Mingi's room.
And Wooyoung, the ever so sassy, yet sweet and considerate Wooyoung, worried that his parents would be wasting money on his mere hobby.
(Though the parents actually didn't mind, seeing that Hongjoong brought plenty of money home with his song licences, and Seonghwa's children's books royalties were hefty as well. And there's no such thing as 'mere hobby' in this house, because Hongjoong and Seonghwa believe in supporting their children's interests as best as they possibly could.)
On top of that, all the activities were happening within similar dates and durations, which meant chaos at the beginning of summer, then rare quietness until the peak of the season, where everyone would be at home again.
Hongjoong still remembers the words Wooyoung had said, soft and gentle, filled with nothing but sincerity
"I'm worried that no one would help Papa and Appa with the house chores and the summer garden if everyone is away and busy. What if Papa is busy with writing, and no one's there to help fix Appa's lunch, or make sure Yeosangie and Sannie wouldn't skip breakfast before heading for their activities."
And then he continued, in a much fainter voice, almost a whisper, "but, if I choose to just stay at home all summer long, I would probably be mostly alone at home because Papa and Appa still had to work. All my friends are going to be busy, either visiting family, travelling or also going to camps. I'm scared to be all by myself... I don't think I'm ready to be alone just yet. I really love the camp program, and I think it would be nice to learn something new and make new friends there, but, Papa, Appa, I really don't want to burden you..."
The conversation with Wooyoung last spring had taught Hongjoong and Seonghwa that their children were really growing up, slowly blooming into people with worries and fears. They are becoming people who want to chase after their dreams yet not really knowing if the paths they choose would be worth it, or if it would only drag down those around them.
Despite all the exhaustion, sweat and tears, never once though had Hongjoong and Seonghwa thought that their kids were a burden.
(Just a metaphorical pain in the neck at some moments, and some other times, literal pain in their necks. Piggybacking kids for hours aren't for the weak.)
That conversation also taught the both of them the beauty of patience and understanding in dealing with their children, as they just waited for their usually chatty son for two hours, sitting next on either side of him in their family room with Seonghwa holding and patting Wooyoung's hand, and Hongjoong smoothing his son's constantly mussed hair, as he gathered his nerves.
So that's what Hongjoong was going to do again. He's going to wait.
But not without letting his son know of it first.
"Wooyoung-ah," Hongjoong steps closer, kneeling down next to San's bed and reach his hands out to hold his son's slightly trembling hand, "if something happened, you know you can always talk to me and Papa, right?"
"Yeah, Appa, I know." A small sigh escapes his lips.
"Is this about your schoolwork?"
Wooyoung shakes his head, "No, I'm pretty ahead at my studies right now. Mingi's been helping me with maths. I think I'm okay."
"That's so nice of your brother," Hongjoong smiles, heart fond from the mention of his other son. Mingi would never say no to helping his brothers, despite all the complaining and eye rolling at first. "Did something happen in the dance club?"
"Uhh, not really... Something happened but I'm not really concerned about that now."
That piques Hongjoong's interest, but he files that away for later.
"If it's not your study, and not your dance club, then did something happen with your friends?" Hongjoong prods, and he feels Wooyoung's hands tensing a bit before getting slack.
"Uhmmh," Wooyoung rolls his bottom lip, trying his best not to look straight to his Appa who's giving him such a soft, encouraging gaze. "Something like that... Yeah..."
"Did you fight with your friends?"
"No, we're okay..." The boy sighs again, and begins fiddling with Hongjoong's fingers. Blunt fingertips tapping his Appa's sky blue nails.
"I see, that's good then."
Hongjoong sounds glad, is glad, but he is nearing the end of his wits.
School is okay. Dance is okay. Friends are okay. What then?
Good God, where was Hwa when Joong needed him?
"Do you have... Money problems then?" Hongjoong winces, he really doesn’t know what else to ask.
Wooyoung snorts, not quite cute but not exactly rude. "Appa, I'm only turning sixteen, I really shouldn't be having money problems."
"Still, do you? I don’t know if you’re racking up a tab at the school snack shop or the nearby PC room."
"If I say I do will you raise my allowance?" There's a teasing lilt in his son's voice, and Hongjoong just laughs.
"In your dreams, bud. Any complaints regarding allowances can be conveyed to your Papa. He holds the purse in this household."
Wooyoung clicks his tongue, giving feigned disappointment, but smiles softly after. "It's not money, Appa..."
"Yeah?" Hongjoong shifts, sitting down on the floor fully, mimicking his son's crossed legs but not letting go of his hands. He realises that squatting wasn't something that a 40 plus year old should try to do anymore than 2 minutes – or ever – and he should definitely set up that chiropractor appointment. "So what is it about, sweetheart?"
Wooyoung takes a deep, heavy breath that he exhales slowly, and as heavily.
"Appa..."
"Yeah..."
"How would I know if I like someone? In, like, a romantic sense?"
Well.
Shit.
How should he answer that?
Sure, Hongjoong can write flowery lyrics, can easily come up with songs that describe how it feels to feel something more than just a mere liking between friends or strangers.
But this? This felt much more personal to him now, because this is his child, who was looking at him with utter confusion in his eyes. Hongjoong doesn’t know how to approach this.
Hwa, please come home. Joong was literally sobbing inside, but he plasters a faint smile on his lips.
"Well, that's sudden, Wooyoung-ah, but do you mind if I ask you why you're asking this? Has something happened that makes you question this?"
Joong remembers one late-night hushed conversation with his husband, both of them sitting in the dark after all their kids went to bed. Hongjoong had been utterly baffled with San's constant questioning on anything and everything.
Appa why is the sky blue?
Appa why do I have to eat my broccoli?
Appa why do birds fly?
Appa why are we alive?
"If you're ever confused on how to answer their questions after you’ve tried to explain things gently, babe, just ask them the same question. Ask them why." Hwa had said as he nursed his chamomile tea.
"Isn't that counter-productive?" Joong had sighed and his husband just chuckled. "They're just gonna ask more questions? Why Appa, how Appa?"
"Maybe, but when we ask them back, we can start learning their thought process. Only then can we try to see their perspectives." Hwa sipped his tea slowly, breathing the scent in. "And if we don't have the answer for their whys and hows, we can always be honest about it, and just encourage them to learn about the hows and whys together with us."
"I see." Joong contemplated, "Give me an example then. Hwa, why is the sky blue?"
"Well Joongie, the sky is blue because when the sunlight enters the earth’s atmosphere, it’s then scattered into different wavelengths. We mostly see the sky as blue because blue light travels in much shorter wavelengths compared to other colours, like red." Hwa chuckled at her husband’s confused face. "But why do you think the sky is blue?"
"Maybe because it's sad? Blue is a sad colour. We always say that we feel blue whenever we’re sad."
"But do you personally feel that it’s a sad colour?"
Hongjoong nodded, "It makes me feel... I don't know, just this deep longing, I guess. Like a yearning of sorts. If I paint my canvas with shades of blue, I feel calm but also like I was missing something I can't quite point out. Just feel."
"I see," Hwa smiled then, faint but knowing, and Joong had fallen for this mind trick of his. "Now you understand what I meant right?"
"I felt like I was put in therapy for a moment."
And they both laughed then.
Right now though, Joong doesn’t feel like laughing because Wooyoung's face falls a fraction, like he has just remembered something painful.
Shit, Hwa should be the one doing this, not him.
Wooyoung opens his mouth –giving Joong a tiny relief– then he closes it, and he opens it again, but shuts it again, then he purses his lips together in deep thought. Joong waits, not asking anything more. He simply waits for Wooyoung, all the while paying attention to his son's expressions.
Confusion. Fear. Hope. Confusion.
On and on again, until Joong feels the shadows move in the room, the sun descending further ever so steadily. A scattered remnant of the winter months, when the daylight ends far quicker than Hongjoong prefers sometimes.
"It's just that..." Wooyoung finally speaks when the shadows begin to shorten and deepen. "You know Yeonjun, right Appa?"
Hongjoong nodded. Yeah, he knew Yeonjun. Of course he knew of Choi fucking Yeonjun.
The little shit who stole his baby's first kiss in kindergarten. The little shit who somehow managed to charm his way into his other children's hearts, and into his husband's too, with a wide toothy grin and little gifts he always seemed to have in his Avengers patched backpack. The little shit who called him the tiny uncle.
The little shit who somehow managed to shoot up in middle school into a literal beanstalk, all lanky limbs and crooked smile. The little shit who's been Wooyoung's ride or die (Wooyoung's words, not Hongjoong's) since they were four years old.
The little shit who had convinced Wooyoung that he's got a talent in dance when they were in primary school. The two of them constantly hogging the family room TV to play Just Dance or try to mimic group dances whenever school ended, and Yeonjun always hyping Wooyoung’s often quirky moves.
The little shit who had apparently beaten up a group of upperclassmen in their middle school for calling Wooyoung 'things he would never repeat because no sane, righteous person would ever utter it'.
The little shit that had said softly “You were never too loud, Wooyoung, the world was just a little too used to whispers,” on one cloudy afternoon as the two of them sat down in Wooyoung’s bedroom, with Wooyoung’s sniffling clear even through the closed door. Nobody knew Hongjoong was home then, listening without words right outside of the sticker-ladened door. He felt his heart chipping away as Wooyoung sobbed just a bit louder.
Seonghwa loves Yeonjun. Hongjoong? Not so much.
(But if Hongjoong did give the little shit a $200 gift card at his middle school graduation party and a pair of Jordans, it's between him and the little shit.)
"Yes baby, of course I know Yeonjun. He's your best friend since you're just a little squirt." Hongjoong still has that faint smile plastered on, any mention of Choi Yeonjun makes his stomach queasy in the worst way. "What about Yeonjun, baby? Did something happened with Yeonjun?"
Wooyoung sighs, lips continued pouting and pouting, as if the words are hard to express. As if something bad had happened.
Hongjoong is seriously going to tackle and choke that little shit Choi Yeonjun. He’s been making that promise since the day of The Kiss, but he’s never made true of his own words. Now thought Hongjoong will definitely cho–
"He gave me his jacket today."
Huh.
Well.
That was anticlimactic.
"Oohhhkaaayy, I mean, I've seen you come home wearing his jackets or hoodies often, baby. What was different today?" Hongjoong really, really tries to school his expression but he really, really doesn’t like to hear about Choi Yeonjun.
But his baby needs him.
Hongjoong internally screams.
"Well, it was not even that cold today, Appa. And I already had cardigans on, so yeah, I wasn't even feeling that cold."
"Yeah?" Hongjoong circles his thumb on the lightly frayed edges of his son's cardigan sleeves. It is actually Hwa's old cardigan, all soft and stretched from years of wears and washes, that Wooyoung now claimed as his.Hongjoong couldn't help but smile at that.
"During lunch we sat outside in the courtyard. Changbin and Yeosang were there too, and suddenly it was kind of windy and I shivered just a bit. Of course I shivered, because I didn't expect the damn wind."
"Language." Hongjoong reminds his son who just sheepishly whispers a "sorry Appa" before he falls silent again for a few seconds.
“So what happened? It was cold… and then… Yeonjun gave you his jacket?”
"Yeah! Yeonjun just took off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders and continued eating and bickering with Changbin like nothing happened, Appa. It was so weird!" Wooyoung exclaims, the exasperation in his voice Hongjoong can deeply relate too at the moment.
"And why is that weird, Wooyoung-ah?"
"Because..." The boy inhales, exhales, "when something like that happened before, he would usually just nag me. Like, "well you should've worn something thicker you dummy, didn't you check the weather today?" or he would tease me like, "look at this teeny baby getting cold, ohhh do you want some blanket baby? Do you need cuddles too?". He's usually sooooo annoying Appa."
"And today he wasn't?" Hongjoong is confused, shouldn't Wooyoung be happy that his friend was getting less annoying? He would be glad if Maddox would just turn it down a notch with the nagging.
"Yes! He just smiled at me and ruffled my hair, and I, I-" Wooyoung pulls one plushie from San's pile, a giant banana that's probably needing a washing, and screams bloody murder onto the plushie before he looks back to his Appa, who is trying very hard not to look like he is startled with what his kid just did.
(It was weird, but okay, better the banana than Hongjoong ears that has to bear the grunt of Wooyoung's screams)
"And not just today, Appa. Yesterday during our break in Dance, he just walked up to me and gave me chocolate milk, ruffled my hair –which seriously killed my vibes, by the way– and then he left again without saying a word." Wooyoung pouts. "And like, on Wednesday afterschool he asked me if I want to get tteokbokki, of course I said yes, and we had some at that old auntie stall, and you know what happened Appa?"
"What happened, baby?"
"He paid for me." Wooyoung's eyes widen in horror. Hongjoong islowkey scared now. "He would neverrrr everrrrrr pay for me, Appa! And– and even if he had to, he'd definitely ask me to pay him back later! But he didn't ask me to pay him back?? He just smiled, ruffled my hair and told me that it was nothing."
Hongjoong tilts his head, "And that's weird?"
"Appa, he has never done that before! He'd always be like "gee Wooyoungie, I guess I'm just a walking wallet to you huh" and laugh while he struts away!"
Then Wooyoung screams again onto San's plushie and Hongjoong realises what was amiss throughout Wooyoung's whole story.
"Okay baby, so Yeonjun is acting... weird, but what does that have to do with your earlier question?"
"What earlier question?" Wooyoung asks back, voiced muffled by the plushie. Hongjoong inhales and exhales and prays to the universe for strength.
"Why does this have anything to do with how it feels to like someone, romantically?"
Wooyoung screams again, and Hongjoong just has to scoot himself away a teeny tiny bit from his son because his eardrums are one of the breadwinners in this house and he isn’t sure if his insurance covers hearing loss caused by deadly screams of your family members.
"Becauseeeee," Wooyoung speaks through the plushie, so Hongjoong scoots back a little closer closer and strokes his son's messy hair gently. "he's been acting odd like this since February. Yes, he likes to ruffle my hair and hug me since we were younger, but since February it just felt different."
"Different how?"
"Like it's not as playful. Yeah he still teases me and nags me, but sometimes he would just stare at me and ruffle my hair and say absolutely nothing, and I just-" Wooyoung leans into Hongjoong's touch, the shift allowing his voice to come out clearer to Hongjoong. "I feel weird about it, about these things he's been doing. I don't actually know what I am feeling."
"Well," Hongjoong keeps on stroking his son's hair, noting how the boy might need some hair treatment because it feels a bit dry. "What exactly do you feel? Can you describe how you feel whenever Yeonjun is acting 'odd', as you put it?"
Wooyoung falls quiet, and Hongjoong senses the mood change in the room as the silence continues. From the corner of his eyes, he can see that the sun has sunk into the horizon, allowing the shadows to engulf this messy teenager room that smelled of honey butter chips, old comic books, sweat and lavender laundry softener. Hongjoong can no longer see the minute details of his son's physical being, but he feels them, hears them.
The dryness on the tips of Wooyoung's hair, remnants of his first ever hair bleaching session from last summer. The unsteady movements of Wooyoung's shoulders, as he breathes in and out, whimpering against his brother's plushie, perhaps from remembering all the emotions that he's felt from February up until now.
"I feel-" Wooyoung starts, voice shaky, "I- whenever I see Yeonjun now, I feel like I can't breathe, like my chest is so full it's hard to take a breath but I just keep wanting him close to me. I want to see him all the time. A-and whenever he messed up my hair, and smiled at me, my heart stuttered, Appa. Like it forgot how to work a rhythm and then it's a few beats behind on how it usually should be. So now I'm off-balance and I don't know what I feel exactly."
Hongjoong stays silent, remembering his son's question to him earlier, and wondering why he's asking when he already knows the answer.
Wooyoung sniffs, "So I asked Yunho for opinions earlier and he said that I might like Yeonjun, which was such a redundant thing to say, Appa, of course I like him. He's my best friend, but then Yunho gave me his 'are you seriously this dumb look',"
Hongjoong had to chuckle at that, he knew exactly how Yunho looked, with judging, unbelieving eyes and slightly opened lips, ready to spout off rebuttals.
"Then Mingi told me that I might not just like Yeonjun as a friend, I might like him as something more than that and I am just, just so confused of what it means, Appa."
In the darkness of his sons' room, as he shifts from the floor to sit next to Wooyoung on San’s bed and pull his son close to his side, trying to soothe the boy as feelings flooded his lithe body, Hongjoong has never heard more, felt more, and seen more.
"You don't have to figure out what it means right at this moment. Take your time Wooyoung-ah." He whispers to his son's hair. "Take all the time you need."
There was nothing reflected back in Hongjoong's retina. The room is dark saves for the little stray of lights filtered through the beige translucent curtain Yunho had put on his windows. Despite that, Hongjoong can still see and feel with his whole being.
He understands now why Wooyoung asked what he asked despite having the answers already in his hands; because this is new to him. Wooyoung is just fifteen turning on sixteen. He looks fifteen, with wild unruly hair, gangly limbs and cheeks that are slowly losing their baby fat. But perhaps, just perhaps, his mind still lingers somewhere younger than that, where the notion of something more than a friend is still hard to grasp.
Hongjoong hugs his son closer, letting the boy cry against his shoulder and murmur two words over and over and over.
"I'm scared."
Hongjoong simply holds him tighter, and repeats "I know. It's okay." endlessly to his son, even as his heart drops down to the ground, even as worry grows in his heart.
It's the closing of a chapter for Wooyoung now. The end of childhood innocence, overtaken with feelings and emotions he could not yet name, though overwhelm him just the same.
All Hongjoong could do now is to watch and guide his son, even if it’s just from the sidelines.
——
"How's Wooyoung?" Seonghwa asks without even turning his attention from the pasta sauce he's stirring to know that Hongjoong is stepping into the kitchen.
Hongjoong's lips curve into a tiny smile, admiring how in tune his husband is with his presence. Perhaps it’s because they've been with each other for nearly 20 years, or that Hwa has always been aware of Hongjoong since the beginning, Hongjoong doesn’t know, but it warms his heart just the same.
He steps closer to his beloved, hooking his chin to Seonghwa's shoulder to peek to the stovetop, and loosely wrapping his arms around Seonghwa’s waist– seeking a much needed closeness and also wondering what is on their menu tonight.
Mushroom alfredo sauce with three cheeses and a dash of chilli flakes.
Wooyoung's favourite.
"Well," Hongjoong breathes in his husband's day-old cologne from the older’s nape, feeling his own muscles loosening from the familiar notes of coffee and vanilla. "He's an emotional wreck for sure, and totally fitting in with the whole spring theme."
"First love, huh?" Seonghwa chuckles but Joong grimaces from his husband's choice of words. "Mingi and Yunho told me just the gist of it, but I'm actually a bit excited to hear more of it."
"I wouldn't call it love just yet, but there's definitely non-platonic feelings brewing in the air."
"Ahhh, I see." Seonghwa brings a spoon up close to Hongjoong, silently asking for his husband to taste the sauce. "Appa isn't ready for the love talk just yet huh?"
"I think it needs a teeny bit of salt and pepper."
Seonghwa hums in agreement as he has a taste too and deftly adds what Hongjoong suggested. "And Hwa, darling, I'm fine with the love talks, it's just what comes after the love talk that I dreaded on doing."
"And what exactly comes after love, my love?"
Hongjoong reaches out to his right, grabbing the large bowl of already cooked noodles on the counter to pass to his husband, repaid with a sweet murmur of thank you.
"You know what I'm talking about, Hwa." Hongjoong sighs, he nuzzles back to the love of his life. "The talks of love and passion and the implications of said things to bodily functions."
Seonghwa dumps the pasta into the sauce, gently stirring them together before adding some more parmesan because everybody loves parmesan cheese in this house. "I am sure the kids are also dreading having the advanced sex talk with you, darling, which is necessary with or without love talk. We still haven't covered same-sex experiences in depth, which I'm sure we should've done long ago."
"Oh gosh don't utter it explicitly here in the kitchen. I am still haunted by our basic bodily-functions-and-sex-talk when they were entering middle school. When I gave the older boys condoms earlier this year, I seriously wanted to cry." Seonghwa simply laughs at his husband's shuddering and shifting away from him, but not too far. Never. "But yeah, Wooyoung is just feeling a lot right now, so I told him to take his time processing it, and that he knows he can always come to ask for opinions."
"That's good, thank you for handling that well Hongjoong." Seonghwa turns the burner off and turns slightly to the side, bending down just slightly to place a kiss on his husband's nose.
"You would've done it better." Hongjoong sighs and Hwa kisses him again, on his cheek this time.
"Maybe, maybe not, but you did amazing by just listening to him." Another kiss on the cheek, warm and lingering before Seonghwa steps back to gather the serving dishes and plates for dinner. "Could you check on the garlic bread and chicken tenders, love? I know the timer hasn't rung yet but check it just in case?"
"Sure." Hongjoong peers through the windows of their ovens, cracking the door open just a tad before making a quick decision to take the golden, heavenly crispy, garlicky and buttery toasted breads out of the oven and over to the kitchen island to cool down. The chicken tenders still need about five minutes or so in the second oven.
(Yes they have two ovens, because with six growing children and an eager, social butterfly of a husband, they often host sleepovers and playdates and birthday parties. Hongjoong would willingly testify on the decrease of his stress level over the kids demanding them a monstrous amount of freshly baked cookies for dessert and his husband reminding him of the two large pans of lasagnas for the lunch)
The two of them work in tandem without much words from then on. Seonghwa offers his husband the wire cooling rack that Hongjoong often forgot existed, wordlessly reminding his beloved that the bottom crust of the garlic bread should never be soggy before they were served, and the threat of Yeosang’s silent meltdown over a less-than perfectly crisp baked chicken tenders. Hongjoong passes Hwa's favourite wooden salad bowl just as the taller male takes out all that they need for the salad tonight from the fridge and the pantry.
Hongjoong cherishes moments like this. While he does love having his kids help with meal preparations, especially now that most of them have grown up enough to handle the knives and the stovetop, he still prefers cooking just with Seonghwa.
Each time spent in the kitchen with his husband now, be it simply speaking softly to each other about their day or chatting giddily on the odd stories surrounding their lives as they coordinate tasks, was a déjà vu of their early twenties.
The time where it was still just the two of them, rather new into the relationship. They didn’t really know what the future held, but agreed not to overthink about it, so they just took it one dinner at a time. And now they're here, still taking it one dinner at a time, and Hongjoong still feels the warm, comforting tingles down to the very tips of his fingers each time he locked eyes with Seonghwa.
He wonders if Wooyoung is feeling these feelings too right now.
Hongjoong must have made a weird expression because Seonghwa eyes him amusedly from the kitchen island where he just finished spinning the salad greens dry.
"Penny for your thoughts, love?" Seonghwa offered, always so gently.
"Thinking about Wooyoung, is all."
"About his love life?" Seonghwa tosses the greens lightly in the large bowl, and unceremoniously, yet somehow still gracefully, dumped in the dressing he made just moments before, before tossing it again.
"Yeah, is it weird that I'm worried about him though? Like, the last thing I want is for his heart to be broken and I really don't have a good feeling about Choi Yeonjun." Hongjoong huffs, feeling somewhat defeated as he sprinkled crumbled bacon on the pasta. Seonghwa’s love and obsession for cast-iron skillets mean that they never really use serving dishes for their pasta dish anymore, which is a win for Hongjoong because less dishes to wash is always better.
"Now you're just being subjective, love. You were never really fond of the boy."
Hongjoong scoffs, thinking he should add more bacon just for the kick of it. "Is it that obvious?"
"Ever since he had called you tiny and up until two weeks ago when he last visited, you looked like you’d shoot daggers out of your eyes straight to the back of the boy's head or maybe suplex him onto the concrete."
"Fine, yeah, I don't really like him, but I can tolerate him as long as he's not doing weird things that'll creep Wooyoung out."
Seonghwa raises an eyebrow, apprehensive yet curious. "Oh, from the way you said it, it seemed Yeonjun had creeped Wooyoung out. What exactly did he do?"
So Hongjoong recounts all of Yeonjun's antics that Wooyoung had listed off as weird, and Seonghwa just laughs as Hongjoong gets to the end of the list.
"What's so funny about it?"
"Ahhh, it's just amusing to me because I forgot how sweet and adorable a first love can be."
"It's not love-"
"Babe, did you remember what you did for me when we started dating?"
"That was over two decades ago-"
"Hmm?" Seonghwa prompts and Hongjoong straightens up on reflex to that sound.
"Hhhh okay yeah. I used to always get you hot packs from the convenience store because you would always forget that you get cold easily. So I'd have them in my disposal in case you feel colder than usual. Why would you even put yourself through suffering by sitting on the library's third floor west wing anyways? It's perpetually cold."
"Because it's the quietest," Seonghwa reminds him, eyes twinkling with mirth, "and the windows I sat by directly face the Music and Performing Arts Building."
Hongjoong chuckles at that. "Yeah, well I know that. Whenever I look up right after lunch hours in our 2nd year you would always be there already."
"And you would always come barging in, nagging, slapping hot packs right onto my hands and sit right across from me." Seonghwa saunters closer to Hongjoong, leaning his head to his husband's shoulder as he wraps an arm around Hongjoong’s hip, thumb slipping in Hongjoong’s jeans pocket. "I remember you sneaking in kimbaps and drinks because I wouldn't leave until my assignments were done."
"Yeah, and you were always, always shivering so I got you a blanket too."
It was a generic, thin blanket bought on a discount from the market. It was the shade of strawberry milk with little patterns of cat paws lining the edge. Seonghwa now drapes the worn blanket over his office chair, still snuggling with it whenever he is working.
"I remember when you first bought it." Seonghwa sighs fondly, the memory still fresh on the forefront of his mind. "I was too engrossed in writing and I didn't see you moving until I felt the blanket over my shoulders. You didn't even say anything about it, just going back to your own assignments. I thought my heart was about to burst then and there, I almost cried."
"I didn't know what to say to you then." Hongjoong whines.
"Well you didn't need to say anything, my heart was flipping and somersaulting already anyways. I was this close," Seonghwa pinches his thumb and index finger, "to jump over the table and kiss you right then and there. You were so sweet back then."
"And now I'm not anymore?"
"You still are, love." He kisses Hongjoong’s shoulder lightly, the simple gesture warming his skin even through the fabric of his polo shirt.
Hongjoong hums, feeling content. "Okay, so what does that have anything to do with Choi Yeonjun being weird to our son?"
Seonghwa straightens himself up and gives Hongjoong a 'you serious right now?' look that Hongjoong realises was the the originator of Yunho’s infamous judgy face, to which Hongjoong replies with a baffled, "What?"
"Babe, oh gosh, are you serious–"
"Papaaaaaaaa, what's for dinnerrrrrrrrr?" San's voice echoes, and then their herd of six kids comes rushing into the kitchen, promptly cutting off any of the talks the parents have.
Jongho wordlessly picks up the plates and utensils, heading to the dining table with Yeosang who has taken the buttercup yellow placemats with white daisy borders their Papa had set aside earlier.
San latches onto his Papa's back, demanding attention, while Mingi and Yunho take over the task of bringing the pasta dish and their giant salad bowl, all the while bickering with Wooyoung who is rifling through the fridge, looking for something for them to drink with the pasta.
Wooyoung seems less nervous now, if the threats spouting off from his mouth to soak Yunho's English homework with bleach is any sign. Apparently Yunho had finished off Wooyoung's lemon infused water sometime today.
Yunho really shouldn't have done that.
"It's Alfredo, San-ah. With parmesan chicken tenders and salads." Seonghwa answers sweetly as he pats their July-born son's hair. "Can you help bringing the sides to the dining table, please, baby?"
"O-kay~" the boy walks away towards the kitchen island, grabbing the serving dishes for the garlic bread and chicken tenders, and Hongjoong stares at his husband.
"What were you saying before, babe?"
"Oh," Seonghwa laughs, "I just want to ask you, when you like someone, romantically and are trying to pursue them, what would you do, love?"
"Huh?" What sort of question is this? Hwa knows well what Hongjoong did for him when they dated, and even up until today. "Well of course I'll try to treat that person as best as I can. I would pay attention to their habits, hobbies, interests and I would-"
Oh.
OHHHHHHHH.
"Oh shit."
"Language, Appa!" San chides from the dining table.
"Oh my God." Hongjoong turns to Hwa, who looks absolutely amused. "Noooo-"
"Yes, baby."
"Noo, Hwa, nooo, I really don't like the kid."
"Too bad, too sad, my love." Hwa presses a kiss to Joong's temple, which only momentarily melts Joong away from his seething, "Nothing you can do about it."
"I'm going to ban that kid from coming over, I'm going to-"
"Appaaaa, Papaaaaa, come on let's eaaaattt!" San whines louder now, rivaling the noise that the other five children are making, and that is Hongjoong's cue to shut up.
Doesn’t mean he won’t grumble about it later.
- snippet that didn't make the story -
"Where are the kids?"
"San and Jongho are taking their showers because they stink badly. Yeosang and Mingi are in the laundry room, if I last heard the source of the noise right. Yeosang’s got clay all over his uniform pants, so he's there trying to get the clay off. Or to be exact, roping Mingi in to help him get the clay off. Yunho and Mingi, briefed me about what happened but I told Yunho to keep Wooyoung company until dinner time once you’ve stepped out of the room."
"I see." Hongjoong hummed. "Have San talked to you about his Taekwondo uniform pants?"
"Ugh, yes. I saw the rip, and it's definitely unsalvageable, just like the ones before. I told him that he has to pay for the new one with his allowance. He agreed to it, though, thankfully."
"He's a menace. How did it happen anyways?"
"They were attempting some more complicated kicks, and it just ripped mid air."
"Whoa-kay."
"Yeah, so now he has failed to impress some underclassmen, not because he failed the kick. He actually did really well, but… it’s because they've all seen his boxers..." Seonghwa grimaces and Hongjoong couldn’t help but mimic the expression.
"Ah, and did he happen to be wearing the ones Yeosang got him for his birthday?"
"Yep." Seonghwa popped the ‘p’ loudly.
"With all the fried chicken glory?"
"Exactly."
–