Chapter Text
🎨
Presently
Minho wasn’t usually a nervous person.
Particularly when it came to anything having to do with kids.
Between babysitting and working as an arts preschool teacher in a small school that was underfunded, Minho found himself quite comfortable in the company of babbling nonsense, screaming chaos, and sticky fingers.
"Wow, very pretty," Minho praised, the little boy before him scrunching his nose up in a smile.
He had quite the winning smile, "Thank you."
And Jeongin was a sweet kid. Polite, obedient, quiet-- really, a model toddler all around.
"That one, please?"
"The glitter?" Minho rolled up his sleeves and held the shaker carefully in his hands, "Alright, but we have to be careful with it, okay? We don't want to get it all over your appa's clean carpet."
Jeongin's home was also very comfortable. He never needed to bring anything more to do-- Jeongin had everything he needed to be happy. That didn't stop Minho from bringing crafts, but it was never necessary. The well kept flat that practically revolved around the little boy, a kids table with plastic chairs set up in one corner, atop a carpet definitely set for the purpose of messes.
"Ooh," Jeongin whispered in awe as Minho sprinkled some on the glue and then tilted his paper to make sure any excess went back into the little bin, "Is pretty…"
It reminded Minho of how his brothers used to watch Minho cook, back when they were much smaller and awed by everything he did. Maybe taking care of kids was just an ego boost.
"Mm, very pretty, Jeonginnie did such a good job," Jeongin carefully set his paper to the side to dry, before pouting and pointing to Minho's paper.
"Where's yours?"
"Oh," Minho pulled out a straw caterpillar craft, hoping Jeongin would forget about the blank paper at the sight of the new activity, "Maybe later I'll--"
"No you hafta, you--"
"Jeongin," the man sitting several feet away warned, and Jeongin’s head obediently fell, back to concentrating on his drawing.
But when the man wasn’t watching, the little boy looked up again, leaning closer to Minho before whispering:
"You should draw appa, just like me."
It took a moment for Minho to register that the over-glittered mess they'd spent the last half hour making was, in fact, a likeness of Jeongin's father, in his own, unique, unintelligible way.
Minho couldn't judge. He was crap at drawing faces.
Jeongin pouted sweetly, "Please, please Min-hyung?"
Minho glanced up. There, just across the room, was Jeongin's father, busy at his laptop, but always keeping an open ear for his son's needs.
That was the only problem with this job. If he hadn't needed the money, Minho might have been turned away from the arrangements of babysitting.
Chan never left. This was the third time Minho had babysat this week, and each time Chan had been sitting in the same room, typing furiously.
He wasn't impolite, and he kept a respectful distance. He was friendly, always offering to make Minho coffee, and paying him with a grateful, dimpled smile each evening. But it was certainly… odd. Like he just needed someone to occupy his child while he got things done.
It made Minho feel more like a nanny than a babysitter.
"Hm, I don't think I'll be able to do as good a job as you, Innie," Minho joked lightly, "should I maybe… maybe one of your stuffies that have been watching us, what do you think? Would Mr Lion like his picture drawn?" He felt a little mischievous as he scrunched his nose at Jeongin, "How about I draw you instead, hm? "
A thought crossed Minho’s mind about Chan, very suddenly.
What if the man was observing him? Watching to see if he was good enough to keep in the long term?
What if he didn’t trust Minho?
Jeongin stared at him, considering Minho’s offer, and then shrugged, eyes caught on the caterpillar craft now, "Okay, but you hafta draw my eyes like this," he squinted, "and-and-and give me fox ears, and make me taller than appa."
"Oh?" Minho got to work right away, armed with crayons, ready to pass whatever exam Chan had set for him.
"Mhm, I'm a fox, so you hafta."
"Oh a fox? I thought I was babysitting a little boy named Jeongin… have you met him?"
A sweet melody of giggling came up from Jeongin and he got up out of his chair to push his face towards Minho, "That's me. Hyuuuung, I'm Jeongin!"
"Oh, really? I thought you were a fox!"
"Hy ung! "
Normally he wouldn't ask. But curiosity got the better of him, so, "Why should I draw you like this? Are you secretly a fox? Does appa draw you like this?"
"No, eomma does."
Minho's hand stilled on his drawing.
Now, Minho had never seen Chan's wife. He knew of her existence, from the ring on Chan's hand, to the pictures he had caught glimpses of.
But Minho had never met her, never been introduced.
This was the first time Jeongin had even mentioned her.
And he knew it had to be a sore spot, from the way Chan's typing had abruptly stopped. Outside of Jeongin's little oblivious bubble, an iciness had frozen the apartment at the mention of Mrs Bang.
Ex-Mrs Bang. Whatever the story was.
"Well, I'll do it just like how she would then," Minho smiled, willing for Chan to continue typing away at whatever he was doing to melt the iciness away.
He didn’t. Not when Jeongin finished the caterpillar with straw feet and pipe-cleaner antenna, not when Minho made fox-Innie, with a juremied face, not when it was time to go, and Minho had packed his things up.
"Let's go wash your hands, Jeongin-ah, hm?" Minho stood up as he finished cleaning the table.
Chan stood up, shutting his laptop off, "Oh that's alright--"
"No, I insist," Minho took Jeongin's sticky hand and led them to the bathroom, helping the toddler up the stool and scrubbing his hands with him, "There we go. All clean!"
He tried to ignore Chan watching them from the reflection in the mirror. It would have normally made Minho all prickly, a thousand red flags and the word stalker in blaring lights at the front of his mind. But there was something very scared, resigned and cautious in this father's eyes that just made Minho feel sad for him.
In fact, Chan looked rather marose the whole afternoon.
"Are you leaving now?" Jeongin pouted, which made Minho laugh.
"Ah, I'm afraid I have my own brothers to get home to," Minho crouched down, "Did you have fun?"
Jeongin looked away, clearly not adept at goodbyes, and hummed.
"Can I have a hug goodbye?"
At this point, Minho decided that Jeongin was definitely allergic to goodbyes, because he suddenly got distracted and--
"Hyung, I'm gonna put your picture next to mine over there," he suddenly declared, and then walked away to the kitchen and pointed at the fridge where a dozen other little crafts hung proudly, "Appa got new magnets. I like them."
"They're very nice," Minho agreed.
Chan frowned as he came into the hall, check in hand, "Jeongin did you say 'thank you' to Minho-hyung for playing with you?"
Jeongin rocked on his feet, looking at the fridge, "Thank you."
"Can you look at him when you say it, please?"
Jeongin turned his body, but still didn't look up, mumbling, "Thank you, hyung."
Minho bowed his head before Chan could insist the little boy do anything more, "Of course, I had a lot of fun Jeonginnie."
When they were finally at the door, Minho’s adult conversation skills failed him, and he numbly accepted the check, albeit hesitantly and reluctantly, as he noted Chan didn’t hand it with the usual happiness he had.
“Thank you for helping today, I–”
“I’m sorry about mentioning your wife,” Minho blurted out.
Of course, he hadn’t been the one to mention her, Innie had, but he felt the need to apologize for something, since he’d inarguably thrown a damp blanket over the man’s head since the exchange.
“N-no, not at all,” Chan couldn’t keep eye contact, and dropped his gaze to the floor, “Um, i-i-it was Innie anyway he um… yeah,” he cleared his throat, and Minho wanted to scrub away all the uncomfortable ickiness that he’d created, or at least apologize for bringing it up again, but Chan forced a smile, “Your picture was very well done. Well, not like how my wife would do it but um,” they both winced, it was just getting worse, “I mean, uh, it was nice. I, uh... Um, Jeongin seems to like it.”
“Mm, children like things easily,” Minho smiled and gripped the handle on his bag, wondering whether he should ask whether Chan wanted to fire him on the spot, because he had definitely failed whatever checklist or test he was being judged against in Chan’s mind, “Jeongin is… he’s a very fun toddler, it’s really a joy to babysit him, Chan-ssi.”
Minho wondered if he was coming off as a bit desperate as trying to save face. Maybe he was being a little too obvious about how much he liked and needed this job.
Even if it was mildly odd that Chan sat in, at least he wasn’t one of those parents that stumbled in drunk and made Minho feel guilty about leaving their kid in their rightful care. And he didn’t try to pay Minho extra for just looking pretty.
Minho still hadn’t gotten over that interaction, and had used thw extra money to buy his brothers ice cream so he could drown the creepiness in a sugar high.
At least this time it would only be guilt he’d be trying to drown.
He was about to apologize and turn tail, when Chan laughed.
Not full-bodied, or freely, but a genuine, almost-an-after-thought laugh.
“Hyung is fine, and… I know,” he said, still looking down at the floor, but pink as he thought about his son, “He’s… sweet. A little too sweet sometimes.”
Minho didn’t believe in kids being too sweet. But he waited and listened.
“He… likes you too,” Chan finally said, “And-and you’re just– just, so good with him, I swear, he only talks about how amazing you are after you leave.”
Well damn, now Minho was blushing and at a loss for words. Which was probably for the better, because he was sure he would say something stupid if he tried.
“Thank you, again, truly, really,” Chan finally looked up, and Minho saw a weary gratitude behind the mask of his eyes, “It’s such a help.”
“Anything,” Minho mumbled, and then blushing like a burning rose from embarrassment, “I mean any-anytime– well, in my schedule, I mean, um,” it was time to make a quick exit, Minho was really done making a fool of himself for the evening, “it’s a pleasure, really, thank you.”
Minho was grateful, but he wasn’t sure he was as grateful as Chan, who smiled and left Minho with the strangest words.
“No really, I think you’re the best we’ve had,” he insisted, “Do you think you’d be able to work longer hours? Say… till nine? I know it's a lot… Monday, Wednesday, and Friday nights? It’d be for the next six months until I finish my clas– For the next six months. Or less. Don’t– uh, don’t feel the need to answer now, I wouldn’t want to take too much of your time, just… um, just let me know. When you can.”
“S-sure,” Minho bowed and quickly walked away before he could say anything stupid, like how he had his brothers to get back to, or he needed the money, or was Chan going to sit and watch them all seven hours?
But forefront of all these thoughts was this:
So… he’d passed whatever test Chan had for him?
Which was strange all things considered, because all he had really done was play with Minho, which, granted, was the main part of babysitting, but was usually accompanied with house chores, or at least dealing with sour attitudes and cleaning up.
But all he did was color and do crafts with Jeongin. And Jeongin was so well-mannered, the toddler did most of the cleaning up himself.
“I’m ho– oh,” he bumped into a tall boy, the high schooler who lived in the flat below theirs, “Hyunjin?”
The boy blushed red, “Sorry hyung, was just playing games with Lix.”
“Ah, no no, you’re always welcome,” although he couldn’t remember Lix ever mentioning Hyunjin being a good gaming friend.
He'd have to bring it up. Well, find time to bring it up… maybe Felix had mentioned and he'd forgotten? Maybe it was better in that case to not bring it up at all?
“Well, you certainly don’t look like you spent the last three hours getting eaten alive by a tiny monster, what were you babysitting, an empty house?” Jisung snatched the check from Minho’s hands as soon as he walked through the door, “What the f– what the hell do you do? I thought you said you only color with the kid, what are you getting paid this much for? Do you kiss his feet? Give a private dance?”
Seungmin frowned over Jisung’s shoulder, “Getting paid a fixed amount is part of a work agreement–”
“--but not this much, and for nothing ,” Jisung waved the check in front of Seungmin’s face as though it proved something.
Teenagers. Minho would take toddlers in explosive diapers and tantrum throwing preschoolers to teens, any day. Maybe because he didn't feel far enough removed from the age group.
"It wasn't nothing," Minho mumbled weakly as he peeled off his coat, although it certainly felt like nothing compared to his usual job.
Felix slapped his brother’s head to give Minho a welcome-home hug, “Was it good?”
Minho hummed, the job offer still hanging in his mind. He wanted to take it. The money would be good. The stability would be good, particularly since he was always on the cutting board at the preschool as being an “accessory” teacher, as the fixed aids so eloquently put it.
But–
“Hyung, I made dinner,” Seungmin suddenly interrupted, clearly very proud of himself as he bounced at Minho’s shoulder and– dear God, when did he get so tall? “We should eat before it gets cold.”
“There’s a lovely thing called the microwave, Minnie,” Jisung reminded, still staring at the rectangular paper, as though the cheque would somehow sprout wings and fly away from him, “Magical thing. Food can never get cold.”
“Seungminnie spent all evening on it, hyung,” Felix said sweetly, taking Minho’s craft bag from his shoulder, “As soon as we got back from school, all afternoon. Sung and I played games with Hyunjin, but Minnie never left the kitchen.”
“Wow,” Minho smiled and pet Seungmin’s head encouragingly, “I’m sure it’s wonderful, aegi.”
As wonderful as Seungmin’s meal was, which was truly wonderful considering he was only thirteen, Minho couldn’t find himself appreciating and focusing on it as much as the triplets did. He was sure not to mince any compliments, but a different sort of guilt settled in as he ate–
That he should be taking care of his brothers. Not the other way around. And certainly not like this. God, he wouldn’t even be home in time for dinner if he accepted Chan’s offer…
“Oh, hyung…” Felix slipped an envelope by Minho’s hand as they finished eating, “This came… earlier…”
A bill. Perfect.
Seungmin interrupted with his mouth full, “Sung tried to hide it from you.”
Jisung got defensive, “I did not, I was just checking how much–”
“Don’t worry about it,” Minho stopped the argument lightly, looking at the numbers that screamed at him, cold and unforgiving, “Mm… thanks Lix.”
Felix nodded, and then squirmed, “Will… will we be able to pay it?”
Minho froze. Three sets of eyes stared at him expectedly. Between the triplets, they didn’t miss a thing.
And as their hyung, it was Minho’s job to protect them from some things.
Some things, including things like this.
“Of course, Minnie,” he reassured with a smile, “Didn’t you see the check?”
“That’s only–”
“Now, how about that ice cream we bought last week, hm?” Minho quickly cleared the dishes and tried to ignore Jisung’s whispering.
“We haven’t even told him about Mrs Lee’s call yet…”
Minho found himself mildly… relieved? He babysat only for two families, but that took up all his free time.
He wouldn’t be surprised if she decided she no longer needed his services. It was fine– he didn’t like how Chaeyeon would boss him around, make messes, and then make him do double the clean-up anyway.
Besides, he wouldn’t need her money anymore.
He had Jeongin.
📚
A Week Ago
Chan didn’t believe in karma.
Because as horrid of a child as he might have been for dirtying the counter with glitter, as cruel as it was to his mother when he’d decided to take a road trip without telling anyone but his closest friends, as selfish as it was to move halfway across the world for the life he wanted, he didn’t think he earned the lot he was being given.
“Appa, I want eomma…”
His hand faltered with the bandaid.
If it wasn’t hard enough to bandage his child’s little chubby arm, wiping away blood and tears, and pretend that the scratches didn’t bother him as much as they did, to answer the impossibly tearful eyes when they looked up at him was an unbearable burden that would break him.
Especially when she was just there, at the edge of the kitchen, watching the two of them.
“Eomma–” his voice cracked, and he cleared it before Jeongin could notice, because his wife’s son was an observant child, and there was no doubt that if he faltered too long, Innie would pick up on it, and Chan didn’t know how’d he’d be able to handle that, “Eomma isn’t here anymore, remember?”
“Oh.”
Chan waited, mind racing for another distraction, but before he could open his mouth–
“In the hospital?” Jeongin looked up at Chan, rubbing his eyes, “Can we go see her?”
The woman standing at the edge pouted a little.
Taking a deep breath, Chan smiled, “We can go visit her, but she’s not in the hospital, remember? Remember, she’s at the church. Do you remember the stone? And the pretty flowers we leave for her?”
“Oh.”
“We can bring her flowers later, the pretty blue ones that she liked.”
“Oh.”
“And you can tell eomma all about your ouchies, alright?”
“...Okay, appa.”
Chan quickly picked up Innie’s lunch from the counter before his kid’s quick mind could bounce anywhere else, snatching a grape off his plate and smiling as Jeongin protested and made grabby hands for it.
“Hey, that’s mine, appa!”
“Careful now,” he handed the plate and watched as Innie immediately slowed down and hobbled slower, eyes fixed on the cucumbers, grapes, and puffs on his plate, heading straight for the mantle till Chan steered him through the archway and towards the little table, where he set herself down and immediately started pinching each of the food bits between unsteady fingers, and carefully bringing each to his mouth, “Does your hand hurt a lot?”
Jeongin looked at his arm, as though thinking about it critically, before shaking his head, “No. I’m brave.”
Chan chuckled, leaning on his arms, “Oh yeah?”
“Mhm,” he stuffed his cheeks with puffs, “Ms Kim told me so.”
Chan’s smile faltered. He wasn’t a bitter person, but…
He wondered if Dahyun had told his son that before or after she had failed to watch him get hit and scratched by another kid in his class. He wondered, not angrily, but a little bitterly, whether she told Jeongin that as Chan had rushed back from work, in a desperate attempt to calm the child before he tattled to his father about what had happened. He wondered–
“Ms Kim is scary.”
“She’s just strict, Innie,” Chan replied lightly, “She told you not to play with the bigger kids, because they were pushy.”
Innie hummed, unsatisfied with the answer. Probably because Ryujin wasn't bigger, and certainly wasn't older, she was just a little louder and bossier.
To the point that even strict teacher Dahyun often let her be.
"Teachers hafta be strict," Jeongin mumbled to himself, because everytime they found a daycare or preschool, it was the same story over and over.
Except, it wasn't Chan who had told Innie that. Back when they first started leaving him so they could work, it was his wife who would hold an angry baby and repeat kindly and patiently:
"Teachers have to be strict, Innie," she'd wipe away swollen tears, "But weren't they so kind?"
Innie's pout hadn't changed, and he wouldn't give a response. If had been up to Chan back then, he would have stayed at home just to not see that look on his son's face. But his wife had hummed, kissed his cheek, and had known the heart of the issue right away.
"Eomma and appa will come back, we always come back, don't we?"
Maybe that's why Jeongin still kept asking for her…
"But appa, she's so much scary," Innie insisted, little eyes going wide with emphasis.
Chan couldn’t really blame Dahyun– the daycare was overflowing with kids from the neighborhood, a popular care center, for it’s low-cost and convenience. Dahyun was friendly, an easy favorite for any child.
But she was stretched thin in a class of nearly twenty with only one other aid.
Chan should have seen it coming the first day he dropped Innie off.
Which, hard to believe, was only a week ago. Time wasn’t real when one had kids.
“Maybe… maybe we won’t see Ms Kim anymore,” Chan muttered, mainly to himself, but Innie immediately lit up at the idea, “We’ll go bring her thank you cookies though, because she was very nice wasn’t she?”
“Scary,” Innie repeated, because Chan clearly didn't get it the first time.
Chan booped his nose, “Kind. Nice. Remember when she read that dino book for your class, the one you picked out when I dropped you off, because you liked it and you remembered appa reading it to you?”
“Mhm…” Jeongin wiggled in his seat.
He was clearly done with this conversation.
The figure in the corner shook her head at him.
Chan wasn’t really sure why he was trying to convince his kid to like someone they weren’t going to see anymore. Maybe it was the side of him that was trying to recover, limping from a missing half of himself, that had torn a hole in their lives.
Jihyo would have wanted Innie to see the good in everyone.
Jihyo always saw the good in everyone.
"Appa, all done," Jeongin held up his hands, and then looked at Chan with a frown, "Where's appa's plate?"
"Ah, I ate already, baby, don't worry," Chan lied easily, leading Innie to the kitchen to clean up, not thinking about how he’d left his packed lunch at work in the rush to pick his son up, and wasn’t about to waste food making another meal, "How about you pick out a book to color, hm? I think Auntie Lia is going to call later, so maybe color something pretty for her. How about the Winnie the Pooh book she sent for you?"
"Oh, yes!" Innie dashed off, hands barely dry, "Auntie said she liked eeyore and piglet the bested, and kanga and roo and Tigger and--"
Chan's ears were filled with cotton as washed the dishes, the white sound in the background of Jeongin blabbering on. Not that he didn't care-- he could recite most of Jeongin's favorite characters in his sleep. It was hard for him to not pay attention to his son, from the moment he was born, Chan's interests were solely fixed and revolved around his little boy. Everything he loved, everything he hated, his quirky personality that couldn't eat rice if it touched his fruit, that couldn't walk on the cracks in the pavement with one foot but not the other.
Chan adored Jeongin. He loved his family. Everything he did revolved around them.
Which was why pulling out his budgeting excel file and writing in the money he was going to not make for leaving early stung just a little bit harder.
And if he had to give up his job, and just work the second online one so he could stay at home with Jeongin--
He took a deep breath as the numbers glared back at him. Savings would last them another year or so. But hypothetically… if anything were to go wrong… if Chan even breathed an expensive decision… Angry red at the bottom, with a negative sign.
No, no, that wouldn't do.
He had to keep this job…. At least until he finished his online Master's and could get a teaching job, with stable income, set hours. And benefits.
Particularly the benefits.
They couldn't afford a hospital trip right now. Insurance companies were actually run by the devil himself.
"Appa?" Jeongin's voice echoed, "When is Lia noona and Bin-hyung calling?"
Lia. Changbin. Chan lived his life looking at the end of dark tunnels, and his sister and brother were one of those beaming lights he held onto deliriously on days like these when he actually had no idea how he was going to work enough for them to stand on two feet, how he was going to study enough to get them somewhere stable, how he was going to wake up and function when everyday felt–
No, don’t go there.
“Appa?”
"When the small hand hits two, Innie. Soon."
Chan could hear Jeongin's pout. He saw it when little feet pattered back into the kitchen, and held up a picture of Tigger that was scribbled over in a mess of green and brown.
“But I’m done!”
He chuckled and took a deep breath.
“Then draw another one! Lia hasn’t seen you in two weeks, you have a lot of colorings to make up for that time.”
Flawed reasoning, but Jeongin took it and pattered back.
Chan had counted down the days his sister would jump from the screen and actually be a warm presence filling their empty apartment. The preschools, daycares, and babysitters were only until she got on winter break. Marking the days down, one by one, the light slowly brightening at the end of the tunnel.
It had been one day at a time since Jihyo had died. Two months of waking up every morning and reminding himself: one day at a time .
Since Chan had taken two jobs and decided to accelerate his master's it had changed, if only slightly.
One hour at a time.
“Lia noona?”
“ Jeonginnie, baby!”
“Hi noona!”
“Oh, what’s that Innie-ah? Did you color something for me?”
“Yeah, look, look-look-look I did it, I–”
The hours he lost to earn money, he gained to study. So when Lia called, he didn’t listen to the conversation, but worked on the papers, the discussion boards, the emails to advisors, furiously working through all the work, profiting on each minute he had that Jeongin didn’t require his attention.
Ignoring the woman standing and sighing, cleaning the carpets and humming a familiar tune.
He blocked it all out for what he needed to do. Like writing his third paragraph on the importance of student-teacher relationships, and how those can be cultivated by--
"Noona, you're coming soon right?"
Chan's fingers stopped moving. He was settled on the couch, and he couldn't see Jeongin from where the little table was set up around the corner, but he could hear just fine.
The pregnant pause stirred dread in the pit of his stomach.
"Mm… Innie, can I talk to your appa for a second?"
Chan felt his fingers going numb as Innie handed him the phone.
"H-hey baby sis…"
"Have you been avoiding me Chan?" She switched to English, because Jeongin wasn't quite on the level of understanding if they talked fast, "Two weeks of nothing unless your son wants to chat-- what about being my oppa first, hm?"
“Hey, sorry, I–”
"Sun?" Jeongin repeated what he’d overheard, pointing at the sky.
Chan smiled, "Finish up your coloring while noona and I chat, alright?"
As soon as Innie was out of earshot, "What happened? You're not coming?"
Lia bit her lip, "Chan… don’t freak out, okay? But… I can’t fly out next week…"
"What? Why?" He felt awful but he selfishly tacked on, "What about Changbin?"
"Well, I need to take a class– just a geometry course, to knock off some credits before college starts– so I can't come? And Changbin started a new job that doesn't let him take vacations for the next three months at a minimum so… Mom is thinking maybe Christmas break, although she was hoping maybe you would come here during then and--"
Chan stopped listening. It didn't compute, he couldn't-- what was he supposed to do? Granted, relying on his sister in high school was a bit of a long shot, but--
"--could always use extended care daycare? I know there's--"
Except that Chan was done with daycares and preschools and all sorts of childcare, and he knew he wasn't about to leave his Innie with anyone else so he'd have to stay home, which meant not going to work, which meant--
"--Chan? Chan, listen to me--"
He hung up the call. It took all his energy to get up and hide in the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Down on the tiles, face in his hands, he realized he was shaking.
No, no-no-no, I can't lose it now, keep it together Chan--
He didn't feel his phone buzzing. He couldn't handle picking it up right now anyway.
He had to quit his job, he didn't have a choice. He needed to stay with Innie.
He took a deep breath to try and steady himself but it came out sort of whimpering. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation finally catching up. The exasperated insomnia and his body taking revenge, because he couldn't think straight and his body was betraying him.
Translators could work online, right? Data entry, another customer service job… There were plenty of ways to-- to--
"Chan?"
He was losing it. He couldn't remember answering the call, and yet Changbin was there, Lia at his shoulder, concerned from the other side of the screen.
"Hyung? Are you alright? Take a deep breath, calm down…"
Changbin was always the more stable of the two brothers. He would have handled the independence and isolation much better. He would have made friends, he would have connected– maybe then there would have been people not across the sea he could have asked– no, he wouldn't have done that–
"I'm sorry…"
"No, it's alright," the reasonable side won out over the emotional side, and he scolded himself for being so reliant in his plans on someone else, "I should've-- I-I'll figure it out, I'm sure," he cleared his throat, and tried to smile, "Hey, how was school? You said you had that teacher who didn't--"
"--No, Chan, I'm sorry," Lia looked very sad and serious, and it forced Chan to pay attention, " I… I'm so sorry, for everything you're going through… it must be really hard."
Chan was ready to hang up again. He didn't have the bandwidth to be emotional. So he just looked past the screen, and spoke on autopilot.
"It's alright, it'll be fine…"
The humming of the bathroom light filled the silence. Lia probably knew what Chan was doing. Changbin definitely knew from the pinch of his lips. Deflecting was an old trick, like when he’d chosen a linguistics major without knowing what the heck that would mean after he graduated. When he'd followed Jihyo to Korea from Australia and nonchalantly thrown aside all his mother's concerns.
When he’d had a kid and assumed life could only get better.
“Jeongin told me he’s not going to preschool anymore?”
“That’s… that’s a new development, actually.”
“New as in…?”
“Uh the last two hours.”
He appreciated Lia not probing anymore. His mother would have definitely told him to suck his pride and keep Jeongin in Dahyun’s preschool, because he couldn’t afford any other childcare that would provide smaller classrooms, and he sure as hell wouldn’t be able to work and study and parent all day everyday from home.
He would probably make it two months at best, maybe three, before they’d qualify for aid. If they did. Poor enough to worry, not poor enough for anyone to care.
“I found someone.”
Chan’s eyes focused back on his siblings, who had the phone set up on Lia's desk, Changbin's head down as he looked through his laptop.
“I… I’m sorry?”
“I found someone,” he repeated, “Babysitter. In your area. Monday, Wednesday, Friday. His hours are early mornings or evenings though, is that alright?”
Chan was still stuck several moments ago. Babysitter? What?
“I… uh… I…”
“Chan. Babysitter. Mornings or evenings, does that work?” Lia was starting to sound a lot like Jihyo, and Chan didn’t know how he felt about it.
“Baby…sitter…” Chan grimaced, and Changbin sighed.
“He’s got preschool teacher qualifications, shining reviews on this website…” he tried persuading.
But more than that, they both knew that Chan needed the help. Desperately.
“Y-yeah, uh…” he pulled up his schedule, “I can take the early shifts on those days, and um… wait, hold up, how did you find him? Who is this?”
“Lee Minho, preschool art teacher. Twenty-three. Changbin's resourceful when it doesn't have to do with school,” she smirked at the camera, as he protested behind her, but it softened quickly, “And we want to help. And you can’t work the job, study the things, parent the kid, and figure everything else out on your own.”
Chan chuckled, but a dark, self-deprecating thought ate its way up into his mind. Shouldn’t he be able to? Was he not… was he not able to provide for his son if he wasn’t able to? Was he not cut out for this?
“Ew.”
“Huh?”
“You make a gross face when you overthink things.”
She started laughing as Chan sputtered, trying to regain his composure. Jeongin pushed open the door, clearly curious at the shenanigans they were up to.
“Appa?” he crawled into Chan’s lap, “Appa, what you doing?”
“We, um, we’re finding a babysitter for you, Innie.”
“Babysitter,” Jeongin settled himself in Chan’s lap, “Like Lia noona? Or… or like Chaeyeon noona?”
Chan winced and tried not to remember when Jihyo had given the teen who had lived next door a chance when they’d gone out on a date night, confident since she had a sister around Jeongin’s age. The date had ended within two hours, when Jeongin had choked on his snack and sent Chaeyeon into a panic.
“Uh, no,” Chan shook his head, “Um… like a preschool teacher. Like Ms Kim. But just for you.”
“Ms Kim?” Jeongin scrunched his nose, “But Ms Kim is–”
“Better than Ms Kim then,” Chan insisted, and then hesitated, “Hopefully. We’ll find one that’s better than Dahyun, that’s for sure, alright?”
“Okay appa.”
Jeongin sounded like he actually believed Chan, which somehow made Chan’s heart just a little bit lighter, and more hopeful.
They sent Lia and Changbin butterfly kisses goodbye, Changbin telling Jeongin to be good, and then spent a few more minutes cuddling on the floor. Chan’s mind was whirling. It was unlikely he’d be able to go back to his job as a translator at the hospital. Especially given this babysitter’s hours– he spent time with Jeongin scrolling through his raving reviews and various work experience, posted on the website his siblings had found.
The floor was cold, uncomfortable, but Jeongin wrapped in Chan’s arms, and Chan warmed by Jeongin snuggling into his chest.
“Appa?”
“Yes, baby?”
“It’s cold.”
Chan laughed and kissed his cheek. The figure in the corner, head against the cabinets, chuckled along with them.
“Let’s go play with your stuffies, hm? How about your little tiger and fox, what do you think, should we take them on an adventure?”
“Oh! Oh-oh-oh we hafta take them ‘cross the croco-diles, appa!”
He’d give this Lee Minho a try. Anything for Jeongin.