Chapter Text
“We have your child,” Minghao mumbles into the desk telephone.
He never imagined working at a daycare. He never expected to, or even wanted to, work with children at all.
He liked to keep his interaction with kids at a vast minimum, something like an exchange of eye-contact in quick passing or offering up a smile if he could muster one, but that’s about how far he was willing to stretch it.
Yet here he is, working a receptionist job with unpredictable little creatures whose lousy parents seem to think Minghao is cool with staying later. Unpaid.
He always makes sure he’s out the door at exactly six, when the day is over and parents pick up their offspring, but Mingyu came barging into the front office with an emergency, dumping word-vomit about a parent not showing up all over Minghao.
Waiting until all the kids get picked up is a task that is decidedly not Minghao’s. He’s the file-guy, the I-keep-everything-in-order person, the name at the end of the emails that go to the parents. He isn’t meant to hold kids’ clammy hands and wipe their tears until their parents finally show.
Nevertheless, he told Mingyu he’d do it. It’s thanks to Mingyu that Minghao managed to get this job in the first place. It might not have been his first choice, or even his fifteenth, but he has rent to pay and it’s pretty well-paid for the minimal work he really does.
Mingyu said that parents usually arrive within ten minutes of them closing, something Minghao could live with, but it’s been over thirty minutes since this child first pulled on his leg and told him her father hasn’t shown up yet.
That much was obvious to Minghao too, as she was the only kid left in an otherwise empty courtyard.
“... What are your demands?”
“Are you out of your mind?” Minghao hisses. “The daycare closed half an hour ago, come get her now.”
He’s not usually unfriendly to parents, but it’s been nearly forty-five minutes at this point and he’d very much like to go home. He has a personal deadline to meet tomorrow, and while he initially figured he’d have enough time to finish editing after work, he can definitely forget about that now.
The man on the other end of the line apologizes profusely, and based on the shakiness of his voice, he must be speed-walking. “The meeting ran a lot longer than it should have and I wasn’t able to—” remember I have a child? “—give you a call.”
Minghao is so grateful he doesn’t have to deal with this every single day.
“When can I expect you?”
“I’ll be there as soon as possible, I promise. Twenty minutes. Max.”
Minghao tries his best not to groan while he’s still on the phone. He’ll do that when he hangs up.
“The front door is locked, so I’ll open it for you then.”
“Thank you so much.” Then there’s nothing. Minghao removes the phone from his ear thinking the guy hung up, but then he starts speaking again. “I’m so sorry again. Also for not picking up earlier. I only saw you called when I left the meeting. I’m seriously so sorry. Nothing like this has ever happened before.”
At least that’s true. After asking the child for her name, he'd looked it up in the system. Her as well as her father’s, the only parent registered, records came back clean.
Minghao scrubs a hand over his face while trying to come up with a response that doesn’t come off either bitter or cold. Nothing comes to mind.
“Knock when you’re here,” he says instead.
“Thank you so much for staying with her. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
Minghao puts the phone back onto its stand, careful not to tangle the cord, then looks at the girl in his chair.
Her hair is about shoulder-length, black, and seems to be due for a cut because she keeps pushing her bangs out of her eyes. In her arms, she’s holding a pink Hello Kitty backpack that shakes violently each time she moves, which Minghao notes is an awful lot.
“Was that Appa?” Sunhee asks, looking up at him. He’s very thankful she doesn’t seem that affected by her dad not showing up, because he’d probably pull his hair out if she started crying.
“Yes, he’ll be here in twenty minutes.”
“Ah… How long is that?”
“Uh.” He tries to think of something that someone her age will understand. “About two Spongebob episodes. I think?”
“Oh,” she says, changing positions again. “Can we watch it?”
There is only one thing he would like to do less, and that would be to entertain her himself. Spongebob it is.
The reception only has one desk chair, as he’s the only receptionist they have and it’s barely a one -person job, but going into a locked classroom to get a second chair is too much work. Instead, he leans halfway across the one she's sitting in to type Netflix into the search bar.
He logs in, making sure not to save the password, and as soon as the Who’s Watching? screen flashes in front of them, her interest is peaked.
She points at the five icons. “Who are they?”
Minghao breathes through his nose. “Parasites.”
“What’s that?”
Back when he still lived with Mingyu, they decided to share Minghao’s Netflix subscription and Mingyu’s Spotify one. Over the years, to Minghao’s chagrin, three people ended up being added to his account without paying a cent.
He doesn’t recognize any of the episodes, so he just picks a random one. As the theme song plays out, she puts her backpack against the right arm of the chair before drawing her knees to her chest.
Minghao retreats to the wall and pulls his phone from his pocket, a weak distraction from the headache-inducing noise coming from the computer.
After a few seconds, she turns her head. “Thank you, ahjussi.”
Minghao nearly drops his phone. His hair may be gray, but his face should not warrant that title.
It's unfortunately ill-advised to glare at a child no matter how diabolical the stuff they say to you is, so he just clenches his jaw and gives her an acknowledging nod.
She turns back around, but only two minutes into Minghao’s lazy game of Temple Run, she goes: “I don’t like this one.”
Minghao cranes his neck to see the screen. It turns out he chose the one where the main duo is transported to a medieval version of their city. Wrong choice, apparently.
His character crashes into a wall before he pockets his phone and walks over to the computer. He ends the episode, then returns to the other options. “Which one do you want to watch instead?”
“Don’t wanna watch anymore.” By the sour face she’s pulling, she clearly wants to not be here anymore.
They have that in common.
“When is Appa coming?”
Considering barely any time has passed, he can’t give her a satisfying answer. Disappointment flashes over her face.
His eyebrows rise by several degrees, worried she’ll suddenly have a meltdown, so he figures his best bet is to distract her with something. Anything.
Spongebob is clearly out of the question. As well as everything around them, not wanting her grubby hands touching any of his stuff, but asking about her stuff… that seems like the perfect distraction.
It thankfully lights her up a little, and she proudly presents him her bag. The thing has floppy pink ears attached to the front that she moves up and down with her fingers.
“Yeah, Hello Kitty,” he says with a nod of his head. “Cool.”
There’s a beat of silence, then the kid bursts into a fit of giggles. “This is not Hello Kitty, silly.”
Minghao’s eye twitches.
“It’s My Melody.”
“Right,” he says despite not being familiar with that name at all. “Well, either way, it’s a nice bag.”
“Yes,” she agrees, turning the bag to have a look at it herself. It’s a little worn, probably from all her affection or because she’s had it for a while, but he supposes kids don’t really care about the declining quality of stuff as long as they still love it. “Soonyoung-oppa gave it to me.”
He offers her another “right” even though he, equally, doesn’t know who that is.
“What’s your name?” she suddenly asks him. To help the strain on her neck, he turns the chair so she can face him properly.
“Seo Myungho.”
She takes a second to process that. “I’m Moon Sunhee.”
He resists the urge to say yes, you told me earlier, and just gives her a tight-lipped smile.
She seems a little confused by his dry expression, then glances at the clock as if she can read time. The disappointed face she sported earlier is replaced by impatience, and she changes positions again. “How long until Appa is here?”
Minghao thinks he might combust.
He spends the next fifteen minutes with his eyes trained on his phone, now in the tiny, slippery hands of a preschooler, until a knock on the glass door finally comes.
“Appa!” Sunhee screeches excitedly, sending Minghao into near-cardiac arrest when she throws herself off the chair and rushes towards the door. His phone immediately falls out of her hands and clatters to the floor.
She forgets the bag she had almost made him apologize to, so he has to pick up both the bag and his phone before finally getting a look at the door.
He’s youngish, definitely not much older than Minghao himself, and waving shyly at him.
Minghao squints at him: a fitted suit, shoes that are both pointy and probably uncomfortable, a briefcase, and a ridiculously handsome face. The whole businessman shebang.
Minghao would have definitely remembered this face if he’d seen it before, so he must have applied through the previous receptionist.
He unlocks the door.
Sunhee instantly jumps into her father’s arms, who skillfully picks her up with one arm, clearly used to what has to be a pretty strenuous way of holding a five-year-old.
Once he’s got his daughter comfortably, or as comfortably as she can be, on his arm, he addresses Minghao with remorseful eyes. “I’m really, really sorry.”
And maybe Minghao fits right in with the kids because he’s childish too, in a sense. He doesn’t brush the apology off with a “don’t worry” or an “it’s fine”, because this man should worry and it’s not fine. Minghao says nothing.
He’s about to close the door on them when he realizes Sunhee is still wearing her slippers, and he spots a pair of purple velcro sneakers over his shoulder near Mingyu’s classroom. He doesn’t want them to go inside and get distracted, so Minghao tells them he’ll get them for her.
Turning his back to the father-daughter duo, their conversation slowly becomes quieter, but Minghao’s still able to make out the man apologizing to his daughter for being late.
Minghao returns to the door holding the shoes on two fingers, and the man sets his daughter down so she can put them on. The relief of losing the added weight of a whole other person flashes across his face immediately, but it disappears when Sunhee makes a show of not being able to put her shoes on. He has no choice but to put his briefcase down and squat to help her.
Minghao doesn’t have time for this.
He’s about to bid them adieu, but freezes right on the spot as Sunhee, completely unexpectedly, says “I was soooo bored” in Mandarin.
She is shameless about it too, smirking as she says it— her father has the nerve to chuckle —and Minghao has to bite his tongue not to blurt out the “you’re no fun either” that lies right on the tip of it.
Instead, he composes himself and robotically recites what he’d been told on his first day. In Mandarin. “If you pick her up late two more times, we’ll be forced to give you an official warning. Two official warnings means her time here is up.” It widens the eyes of daughter and father alike, but while Sunhee seems delighted she was understood by someone other than her father, her father looks mortified.
Minghao spends the weekend free of children.
Well, he still has to deal with Seungkwan’s dog he walks every Saturday, but at least the dog won’t insult him to his face.
He was so riled up from the whole thing that he did nothing but brood Friday evening, but on Saturday, he managed to release some of his irritation on a large red splatter painting. Posting it to his Instagram the day after, Jeonghan messaged him asking who pissed him off.
They spent three hours on the phone, venting and complaining, after which Minghao told himself that he could finally let it go.
So he feels fine on Monday, refreshed and happy to get back to work. None of the emails he received over the weekend are particularly difficult to answer, the copy machine doesn’t lag for once and the books he ordered arrived safe and sound.
He even plans to treat himself to a nice meal once his shift is over, maybe treat Mingyu and Wonwoo too, but his good mood evaporates when he hears the handle of the front door.
On that door, parents are kindly instructed to wait for their children in the courtyard. But Moon Sunhee’s father, apparently, can neither read time nor words, because he walks up to the reception with those stupid pointy shoes and that stupider handsome face.
“Parents wait outside,” Minghao says, eyes trained on his computer. “Your child will meet you at six. Outside.”
The teachers walk the kids to the exit at the end of the day on purpose, because if every parent came to personally get their kid from the classroom, there would be nothing but chaos.
Minghao points his pen at the clock behind him. “It’s a quarter to six.”
“I know, but I came early on purpose. You know, making up for last time.”
“No need,” he insists. “Being outside at six is perfect.”
“But I’m here for you.”
That makes Minghao’s head snap up.
“I wanted to apologize again,” he explains in Mandarin. Minghao doesn’t know if he likes that very much. If the guy says anything inappropriate, Minghao wants the police to understand the security footage audio.
“And I also wanted to introduce myself.” He reaches out a hand, something that wasn’t available last time they saw one another. Switching back to Korean, he says, “My name is Moon Junhwi.”
“Well, Moon Junhwi-ssi, you definitely didn’t have to come all the way inside to apologize a fifth time.” He points his pen towards the door. “Please wait outside.”
But Mr. Moon doesn’t leave. He just stands in front of Minghao’s desk with his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants. “Then I’ll apologize on behalf of Sunhee,” he offers. “She shouldn’t have said what she said. She thinks she can get away with it as long as she—” he stops to come up with the right phrase, “—says what she thinks in Mandarin.”
You mean talk shit about people.
Minghao taps a stack of paper against his desk, straightening them.
He chuckles awkwardly at Minghao’s silence, touching the back of his neck. “Anyway, I’m sorry about all of that.”
“Okay,” the receptionist replies dryly, placing the stack of papers in the letter tray next to his computer. “Thank you, Sunhee.”
It stuns the man for a second.
“You were apologizing for her.”
“Right.”
The air around them grows increasingly more awkward with each second that passes and Minghao wills the man to go away. He doesn’t have anything nice to say, but he doesn’t actually want to be rude. He hopes that keeping his mouth shut long enough will get him to leave.
But Sunhee’s father is as stubborn as he is handsome and doesn’t move an inch, so Minghao gets stuck on the latter for a second. His dark hair is styled mostly off his forehead, there are a handful of moles on his face, and his suit is either tailor made or he just has the perfect body for one. His proportions are sort of unreal.
Eventually, after a significant amount of staring on both ends, Junhui clears his throat. He gives Minghao a smile and a soft knock to the desk as a makeshift goodbye. “Well, thank you for your time.”
Minghao hums noncommittally. “Sunhee will meet you outside, Moon Junhwi-ssi.”
“So you’re taking up a job that you’ll hate,” Jeonghan said when Minghao first announced he’d been offered the receptionist job at Mingyu’s parents’ daycare.
And, well, Minghao couldn’t exactly disagree. He definitely wasn’t looking forward to seeing small, snot-nosed creatures all day, but what he was looking forward to was a stable job that allowed him to further explore his hobbies and grow an online presence during the weekends.
“And you’re already perpetually grumpy.”
“No,” Minghao corrected, “people just never miss an opportunity to piss me off.”
Jeonghan and Joshua shared a look. “And now even more people will piss you off. Tiny ones with no self-awareness.”
“You know, I don’t actually hate children,” Minghao posited, picking up a piece of meat from the grill. “I don’t particularly like them either, but it’s not like I’m gonna start throwing rocks at them.”
Joshua blinked, his spoon freezing halfway to his mouth. “I’m sor— why would you throw a rock at a child?”
“I just said I wouldn’t.”
The following day, Sunhee’s father walks into the daycare again. Minghao doesn’t even try to muffle his sigh.
“Moon Jun—”
“I’ll be out of your hair in a minute, I promise,” the man quickly cuts in, putting his briefcase on the floor and kneeling next to it.
Minghao lifts his blue-light glasses to rub at his eyes. “If you’ve come in here to apologize a sixth time, I swear…” He doesn’t finish the threat, but he hopes it leaves something terrifying to the imagination.
When he finishes poking his eyes out and regains his vision, he frowns at the bundle of seven white tulips on his desk, neatly tied together with a string.
“I figured a whole bouquet was a bit much…” he says, a little timid. “It’s a thank you for staying with Sunhee.”
There’s a beat of silence where neither of them move or speak, during which Minghao tries to process what the hell is happening.
“... You do know I was legally obligated to stay with her, right? And I apparently bored her half to death.”
He chuckles. “Yes, I do know that.”
The receptionist hesitantly picks up the flowers.
“I didn’t know if you liked chocolate, so…”
Minghao tilts his head in mock-scrutiny. “I could have had a pollen allergy, though.”
“There are roses to your right, though,” he counters, mimicking Minghao’s tone.
He’s referring to the vase at the edge of his desk. “Bad argument, Moon Junhwi-ssi. They’re fake. We haven’t been able to keep real plants around since this one kid kept taking bites out of them.”
“Better take this one home then. For the sake of the kids, of course.” There’s another departing rap against the desk, then a smile. Boyish and playful. “Have a good evening, Seo Myungho-ssi.”
At ten to six the next day, Minghao thinks he’s finally escaped the annoying task of asking Moon Junhwi to go back outside, but he’s proven wrong when he walks through the door two minutes later.
Minghao doesn’t even think of pretending that it doesn’t piss him off. At this point he isn’t even really annoyed with Sunhee’s father as a person, who is the polar opposite of a pain to look at, Minghao just doesn't like people who refuse to follow simple rules. If a sign on the door tells you to stay outside, you should stay outside.
Minghao puts a hand over his face, rubbing his temples.
It only makes Mr Moon laugh. Through the gaps of his fingers, Minghao can make out that the man isn’t wearing a suit jacket, leaving the sleeves of his white dress shirt exposed, and he also spots a waistcoat. It’s like he wanted to make sure Minghao knows just how fit he really is.
Minghao wonders if the daycare mothers gossip about him and his looks. Even though Minghao doesn’t really know what the other parents look like, he's sure Sunhee’s father’s attractiveness sticks out. It can’t not.
He gives Sunhee’s father a displeased look. “Are you really gonna make me say it?”
That, too, makes Mr Moon laugh. “I’m here for a reason.”
“Oh I’m sure.”
He folds his hands together on top of the desk and looks down at Minghao sitting behind the computer.
And, well, Minghao cannot not look up at him.
He gets a closer look at the moles this way, especially those around his mouth, and Minghao’s eyes linger there a second too long before he realizes what he’s doing. He quickly looks away, clearing his throat. “Hands off, please. I just wiped that clean.”
He did not, but having this man loom over him like this is not good for his sanity.
“My bad.” Sunhee’s father takes his hands off and puts them both in his pockets. That isn’t any better, it turns out.
Fucking waistcoats, Minghao thinks bitterly.
He forces his eyes back onto his computer screen in a weak attempt to look unbothered. “Well..? What did you come inside for?”
“I wanted to add a phone number to Sunhee’s file,” he says, and Minghao’s eyes move on their own when Mr Moon takes his phone out of his pocket and starts twisting it between his fingers. “A friend of mine, Soonyoung, lives pretty close.”
Minghao vaguely recalls Sunhee mentioning him.
“I’d like to add his number. For emergencies.”
Minghao looks for the correct form in the organized tray next to him. “So, in other words, if you forget Sunhee again, I best call him?”
The man nods, but not without shame. “He’ll be here quicker. Not that it will happen again,” he quickly adds. “But just in case.”
Minghao slides the form and a pen towards him.
It’s two minutes to six and Minghao still hasn’t started gathering his stuff. He doesn’t want to walk through a crowd of children or run into any parents outside, so he figures, considering Mr Moon doesn’t seem to care about rules, he won’t mind if Minghao starts getting ready to leave.
He bends down to pull his bag from under the desk, then plops it onto his lap to carefully start putting his charger, pencil case and glasses away.
“You’re done for the day?” the man asks, who’s been watching him instead of filling out the form.
“I would be if you’d fill that out quicker,” Minghao mumbles before returning to his customer service voice. “If you want to add or change anything in the future, I’m going to have to ask you to email us. We’ll print out a new form with whatever you’ve wanted to add or change, and you’ll only have to come in to sign it.”
“I see,” he says with a smirk, “so parents are allowed inside?”
“On a scheduled time,” Minghao replies, a little sterner than intended. “Parents can’t just waltz in here whenever they like. It’s—” his eyes find themselves on that waistcoat again, “—distracting.”
They snap up before he can get caught, but he wasn’t quick enough. “Distracting, huh?” After signing the form with a bunch of messy lines, he grins at Minghao. “Who am I distracting?”
“The children,” Minghao manages to get out of his mouth. “If Sunhee sees you hanging ‘round here, she’ll want to get out of class and that’ll distract everyone.”
Sunhee’s father straightens up and slides everything back to Minghao. “Well, I wouldn’t want to distract you, of course.”
“You don’t— you don’t distract me,” Minghao splutters. So this is where Sunhee gets her nerve from. “What you’re doing,” he says, “is disturbing my work.”
Mr Moon's eyes fall on the bag of unsalted peanuts next to Minghao’s keyboard and cheekily tilts his head. “You were snacking when I entered.”
“And?” Minghao responds, as if that’s anyone’s business. “I need to stay nutritioned if I have to deal with parents like you, don’t I?”
A grin crosses his lips. “You thought I’d come?”
Minghao scoffs, getting out of his chair. “Based on your track record, it was likely.” He takes the form from the desk, dumps it on his “to be scanned” tray, and turns off the computer. He unhooks his jacket from the coat rack and throws it over his shoulders. As he checks his bag a final time, making sure he hasn’t forgotten anything, he freezes when he hears that sound.
The bell. He usually hears it ring when he’s already halfway out the door.
He can’t help but glare. “You need to go outside. Now,” Minghao grouses, crossing the desk. “I don’t want angry moms on my doorstep because their child said ‘but Sunhee’s Appa waited for her inside, why didn’t you?’”
He just laughs in Minghao’s face. “Was that supposed to be an impression of a kid?”
“Out.” Minghao doesn’t want to touch a parent, or anyone, like this, but he folds his fist into the sleeve of Mr Moon’s dress shirt and literally drags him to the front door.
He can already hear the teachers getting the kids ready to leave.
“Oh, by the way, what’s the email address you were talking about earlier?” Sunhee’s father asks, apparently not minding the manhandling.
“It’s on the website,” Minghao replies flatly, opening the door. “Goodbye.”
He should have expected it.
He should have really expected it, but it still somehow baffles him.
Moon Junhwi walks into the daycare ten minutes early the following day, and he doesn’t even look apologetic about it anymore. Instead he looks smug, almost like he’s making an Olympic sport out of getting on Minghao’s last nerve.
And he seems to be going for gold, because it’s working. Boy is it working, but Minghao is at least a little bit grateful that the man chose to wear a suit jacket this time. The waistcoat was killing him.
Minghao crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m not against giving you a warning for all this, you know.”
He’s all smiles again. “Do you have that kind of authority?”
“I will get that authority if that’s what it takes.”
He places his briefcase on the floor before walking closer to the desk. He doesn’t put his hands on it, probably still going off of Minghao’s lie, and the receptionist is honestly grateful for it.
“Let me guess,” Minghao starts tiredly, “you came here for a reason.”
“Yes.”
“Well?”
“I couldn’t find the email address anywhere on the website.”
Minghao doesn’t think he’s ever sighed this loud. Exasperated, he goes to their website, turns the computer screen and taps his pen against it. “What does this look like to you, Moon Junhwi-ssi?”
He leans forward, squinting. “I’m not sure.”
“… You can’t be serious.”
“Your pen’s covering it.”
Minghao hopes his ears aren’t red as he removes his pen.
He inches even closer, and a surprisingly sweet scent reaches Minghao’s nose. He expected some strong, masculine douchebag-y smell (whatever that may be), not something that resembles bubblegum.
“Ah. Yes, that does look like an email address.”
Minghao grabs his notepad, rips one off and copies it. He can’t have Mr Moon return because “I forgot the name of the website” or some other bullshit.
He holds out the note. “Here.” He turns back to the computer. “Goodbye now. Sunhee will be waiting for you outside.”
“Right.” Silence hits them, and the receptionist hopes it’s because the man is making his way out. But he’s still there. “I like your hair, by the way.”
Almost cartoonishly slow, Minghao lifts his head. “... What?”
“Yeah,” he smiles. “The color, the round glasses, the clothes…” Minghao looks down at the black turtleneck he’s wearing. “You look a bit like a manhwa character.”
Minghao looks back up, mouth hanging open in shock.
“It’s nice.”
His ears are definitely red now. “I’m really gonna give you that warning.”
“He is so infuriating.”
Mingyu sighs. “Myungho, that man is flirting with you.”
“Don’t make me laugh,” he scoffs, phone propped between his ear and his shoulder as he draws angry scribbles into his sketchbook. “He’s trying to get—”
“—in your pants.”
“—under my skin.”
He’s sitting in the break room with Seokmin, who is using the last few minutes of his break to finish a whole can of BBQ flavored Pringles.
“How’s trying to be the new Picasso going?” he asks, the chips breaking in his hand before they can even reach his mouth. “How many followers do you have again?”
“Nothing like Picasso would have had.”
“Mingyu said you had over fifty thousand on Instagram though. Even more on TikTok.”
He snorts. “Picasso would be offended to hear you think he’d have that little.”
Seokmin fondly pinches Minghao’s cheek. “Don’t be difficult, Seo Myungho!”
Minghao slaps his greasy hand away. “Sorry. It’s going well, thanks.”
There's a knock on the doorframe. He glances up to find Mingyu looking directly at him.
“Need you at the front.” From his face, it’s clear that he’s sorry for dragging Minghao back to his computer during his designated break time, but Minghao can technically eat or look at his phone all day so he never complains. “A new sign-up.”
Minghao pushes himself off the couch and makes his way to the reception, where he greets the woman with a polite smile.
He carefully explains the daycare’s vision, why a parent would want their child to go here, and walks her through all the registration steps. He hands her a form to fill in, but he doesn’t have time to sit back— a shadow suddenly catches his attention.
Moon Sunhee stands there, frowning.
He gives the woman an awkward smile. He looks behind Sunhee for any teachers trying to find her, but sees none. “Why are you here?”
“Had to go to the bathroom,” she says in Mandarin, watching him with big eyes. Ah, he thinks, she’s trying to see whether or not he really speaks the language.
“Which is not here.”
Her eyes sparkle with joy. “You speak Bàba language!”
“Mandarin.”
“Bàba language!”
He grits his teeth, then points across the hall. “The bathroom is over there.”
“I know that. I already went.”
“Then get back to class.” He tried to keep a hard edge out of his voice, but he hears one anyway. “I mean, uh. I… bet Mingyu-ssaem misses you.” He cringes as he says it. Sunhee doesn’t seem impressed by it either, eyes trained on the woman at the desk.
“Uncle, can I ask you a question?”
His eyes almost bug out of his head. “Uncle!?” Ahjussi was already a punch to his gut, but this is a full knockout. “I’m twenty-two!”
Sunhee wrinkles her nose, and he’s not sure what that expression is supposed to tell him. Disbelief, it turns out. “That lady has bird nest hair. Uncle, why does she have bird nest hair?”
Defeated, Minghao looks over his shoulder to see what she’s talking about, and has to bite his lip to stifle a laugh. He hadn’t paid it any attention at all, but Sunhee’s not wrong.
He offers the potential customer the kindest smile he can muster before turning back to Sunhee with a steely gaze. “Moon Sunhee, shoo.”
She purses her lips like she’s considering it, and Minghao seriously can’t believe the nerve this kid has. Thankfully, Mingyu suddenly runs into the reception, clearly suspicious about the length of Sunhee’s bathroom visit, and takes her out of Minghao’s sight.
Bird-nest-hair lady stopped filling in the form halfway through, and Minghao hopes it’s because she was distracted and not because she thinks they’re unprofessional.
He chuckles nervously at her. “So… Where were we?”
Of course, when Minghao actually wants Sunhee’s father to come in— so he can lecture him about teaching his daughter some manners —he doesn’t show up.
Minghao had a whole speech ready, kept adding to it when he had nothing else to do, and was looking forward to reciting it. No parent wants to be lectured by a non-parent, but Mr Moon needs to realize that letting his daughter insult people can get her into a lot of trouble, even if the person she’s insulting doesn’t understand what she’s saying.
So from 17:45 onward, Minghao has a tight feeling in his stomach, growing with each passing minute. He tells himself that the giddiness stems from the quality of his speech and being eager to recite it, but as the rainbow hand of the clock nears the 12 mark, he’s starting to get annoyed.
Minghao closes up, but as his cursor hovers over Shut Down, his annoyance is replaced by a sense of dread. He’s never felt this way about a parent being late before, as he’s never around to deal with it, but finds himself worrying Moon Junhwi might be late a second time.
It won’t be Minghao’s problem, as Mingyu is Sunhee’s daycare teacher and his responsibility until her father comes, and yet, Minghao takes it personally. He knows what it does to a child’s psychological well-being to be the last kid to get picked up, and even though Sunhee talked shit about him to his face, she doesn’t deserve to be forgotten.
But it’s not his problem and he shouldn’t make it his problem, so he shuts off the computer and puts on his coat just as the bell rings.
He hoists his bag over his shoulder, and begs his brain to stop thinking about Sunhee’s careless father as he makes his way out of the building through the front door.
The parents are all crowded together in the courtyard at the opposite side of the building, and Minghao’s usually grateful he can avoid them, but something compels him to check it out. He hides behind an extended wall and peeks at the adults waiting for their children to come out.
Most of them are women, Minghao notices, and they all stand in small clusters talking to one another. It’s a little reminiscent of high-school, the cliqueness of it all, and Minghao wonders if there is some sort of hierarchy here like there was back then.
Minghao’s convinced Junhwi’s not here, because he would have been really easy to spot. All of the parents he’s laid eyes on are older, and based on how the young father dresses and looks, everyone would want him in their clique.
He must be the center of attention when he’s actually there. It seems almost impossible to think he isn’t.
Seokmin leaves first with his load of kids, who all excitedly wobble towards their parents.
Minghao doesn’t think he’s ever seen this many bright-colored backpacks at once. Most of the kids wear fluorescent padded jackets, probably so they’re easily recognizable to their parents, but it’s quite the eyesore.
Mingyu’s kids come out next, and Minghao isn’t surprised to find that Sunhee is one of the first kids in line. She seems a little extra eager to leave than the rest, and something in Minghao’s stomach churns at the thought she’ll have to go back inside, where she’ll have to wait for her father to be called and reminded of her existence.
But then she starts running, and Minghao’s eyes widen as he follows her movements. She is uncoordinated, and her bag bounces against her back as her short legs take her to a faraway wall, where she is picked up by none other than her father.
They laugh brightly together, and he presses a kiss to her head.
Oh.
On one hand, Minghao is relieved. Sunhee wasn’t forgotten. But on the other hand, Minghao feels a whole different emotion, one he can’t quite seem to put his finger on.
He doesn’t come talk to Minghao the following day either.
And Minghao should feel happy, relieved even, that Moon Junhwi is making an effort to show up perfectly on time and wait outside like Minghao’s been asking him to.
But he doesn’t.
He tries to ignore it, because it’s really fucking backwards to feel this way about finally achieving something you’ve supposedly been wanting for days.
Because Sunhee’s father finally listened. He no longer enters the building when he’s not supposed to. He's staying outside like Minghao’s been asking for, no longer bothering Minghao.
He realizes that what he’s feeling is disappointment.
“See,” Minghao tells Mingyu and Wonwoo over lunch, “this proves he wasn’t flirting. He waited outside both today and yesterday. Didn’t come in once.”
That seems to spark something in Mingyu. “Oh, so that’s why you’re heartbroken.”
Minghao falters. “What— I’m— I am not heartbroken.”
The couple in front of him give him a matching set of blank looks.
“And he was definitely flirting with you, like I’ve been saying this whole time,” Mingyu corrects, passing Wonwoo the radish kimchi. “I mean, come on Myungho, let’s be real. The email address thing? It’s the first thing you see on the website.” He dumps some food into his mouth. “He came in just to see you.”
“Okay, well, even if he was flirting with me, which he was not,” Minghao emphasizes, “he stopped.”
Wonwoo slowly puts his hands together. “Then your rejection tactic worked. Congratulations, Myungho.”
Minghao scrambles to say something, but he doesn’t know what. He didn’t consider what he was doing a rejection tactic per se. Sunhee’s father was breaking the rules. Sue Minghao for wanting to keep things in order.
Both Mingyu and Wonwoo have coined his bickering with Moon Junhwi ‘one-sided flirting’, because of the way Minghao either dismisses or rebuffs the man’s advances. But advances, as the couple are sure they were, would normally be exciting or butterfly-inducing, but all they did was exasperate Minghao.
And yet, somehow, he wishes Junhwi hadn’t stopped.
“Oh. Sorry, man. I didn’t want to actually make you sad about it.”
Minghao whirls around to face Mingyu. “I am not sad.”
“Uncle.”
Minghao almost falls out of his chair.
Moon Sunhee, who seemed to have appeared out of thin air, cranes her neck to see the computer screen.
This is not a child, this is a loose fucking cannon.
“I’m sorry, what are you doing here?”
“Had to pee,” she answers casually, still looking at his now paused screen.
“And decided to take a detour,” he mumbles, turning his chair towards her. “You have to go back to Mingyu-ssaem after you’ve gone to the bathroom. You know that.”
“What’s a detour?”
“… That’s what you got from that?”
Sunhee already stops caring about an explanation on detour anymore, as she points to his desk. “Can I have one of those?”
He looks over his shoulder at the cherry tomatoes he’s snacking on, then turns back to her with a frown. “No.”
“Oh. Sorry,” she says, and Minghao thinks she’s about to apologize for asking such a bold question, but she asks: “Can I have one of those, please?”
“Wha— no.”
She immediately juts out her bottom lip.
“Oh, come on…” He’s not gonna fall for that.
She truly seems to think that she can crack him though, but after another five seconds of excessive pouting, she draws her lip back.
“Oh my God,” Mingyu whispers when he walks into the reception. He immediately crouches down next to the girl, and he’s able to get her to leave with him with some sweet, stern-ish story Minghao could have never come up with.
The receptionist, spinning back his chair, unpauses his drama and gleefully pops a cherry tomato into his mouth.
He does it with too much force, though, and it slides to the back of his throat before he can bite into it.
He ends up choking on it.
And somewhere, at the back of his head or maybe the end of the hall, he hears Sunhee giggle.
Minghao realizes just how long and boring the final hour of his shift really is when the only thing on his mind is the anticipation of someone coming in.
Having little to do should be nice. It gives him time to work on other things like replying to sponsorship emails or even editing pictures if he really has nothing else to do, but now he just sits there in silence, chin propped on his hand, as he waits for the minutes to pass.
He knows he’s hit rock bottom when he instantly shoots up when the front door opens.
But it's Wonwoo.
Minghao sinks down in his chair in defeat.
“Were you expecting someone else?” he grins.
Minghao narrows his eyes at him, but doesn’t reply.
Yes. Yes, he was.
After lunch, the kids are taken out to play and get some fresh air. At least three of the daycare teachers are required to go outside to keep an eye on them, but because they’re missing Seokmin due to a nasty cold and Sooyoung hasn’t had anything to eat yet, Minghao is forced to go.
He doesn’t even really know what he should be watching out for, not sure what’s classified as playing and what’s not, but when he sees a ponytail being pulled on, he gets why Mingyu starts running.
It leaves Minghao leaning against the exterior wall of the building by himself, scanning the crowd like he’s the massive robot in Squid Game, when he lays eyes on Sunhee walking up to him.
“Uncle,” she starts, further souring Minghao’s mood, “why are you outside?”
“Because Seokmin-ssaem is sick,” he replies in Korean.
“Why?”
“He has a cold.”
“Oh,” she says. “Is he gonna die?”
“What? No, Sunhee, of course not.”
“How do you know?”
“Because…” he trails off, baffled she asked him such a morbid question and that he now has to explain the technicalities of the common cold. “Well, because a cold is pretty harmless. He’ll be fine.”
She purses her lips. “Uncle?”
He gives her a warning look.
“Ahjussi?”
He rolls his head in exasperation. “Moon Sunhee, I am twenty-two years old. Twenty. Two,” he emphasizes. “It’s Myungho-ssi. Oppa if you must.”
Her entire face sours, like that is the worst possible thing she’s ever heard.
After saving that kid from premature baldness, Mingyu returns to the wall. He takes one look at Minghao’s uncomfortable expression and says, “Oh, hello, Sunhee-yah. Won’t you go play with Jiho and your other friends?”
Sunhee looks directly from Mingyu to Minghao, then tells Minghao: “I don’t want to. Jiho smells.”
Mingyu immediately turns his head towards Minghao for clarification, who can only gape at the creature in front of him.
“Hold on,” Minghao says to his friend, crouching so they’re somewhat at eye level, and gives her a stern look. “You cannot do that,” he tells her in hushed Mandarin.
She looks like she genuinely doesn’t know what he’s talking about.
“You can’t use Mandarin to talk shi—” he quickly swallows the curse word, “—to talk about people in a mean way.”
“I’m not mean!” she shouts, insulted. “She smells bad. It’s true!”
Minghao sighs, too parentally inept for this. He gets back up to relay the situation to a confused Mingyu, whose lips suddenly twitch up into a grin.
Minghao squints at him in suspicion.
After Mingyu somehow manages to get Sunhee to go play with someone, who Minghao guesses must not be Jiho, Mingyu still has that shit-eating grin on his face.
Then he lets the cat out of the bag. “Could you please email her father for me? I’d like to have a word with him.”
From: [email protected]
Subject: Parent Meeting
Friday, 16 September at 13:34
Good afternoon, Moon Junhwi-ssi.
I am contacting you in regards to Sunhee’s recent behavior. Kim Mingyu would like to speak to you about this, preferably with Sunhee.
We hold these meetings after hours to not disturb the other children. 18:15 is Mingyu’s preferred time, available from Monday to Friday.
Please let us know what day would be most convenient for you.
Kind regards,
Seo Myungho
Shining Diamond Daycare
+82-2-484-1007
Open from 08:00 to 18:00
⏎ From: [email protected]
Subject: Parent Meeting
Friday, 16 September at 14:57
Hello, Seo Myungho-ssi.
I’m so sorry she’s causing trouble. I’d gladly have the meeting with her there. Today would work for me, but if that is too soon, Monday would work just as well.
Many thanks,
Moon Junhwi.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Parent Meeting
Friday, 16 September at 15:15
Today works. I will see you
He quickly presses the backspace button, cheeks burning.
Mingyu will see you at 18:15.
Shining Diamond Daycare
+82-2-484-1007
Open from 08:00 to 18:00
It doesn’t happen how Minghao expected it to.
He figured, because he would be allowed to, that Moon Junhwi would get there early and chat with Minghao for a bit before the meeting started.
Minghao cleared the desk and organized his belongings, storing them in his bag early so he wouldn’t have to deal with it later, but by the time the bell rings, Sunhee’s father still hasn’t come in.
As Mingyu starts forming a line, counting the heads of his kids, he frowns at Minghao still sitting behind his desk, then tells the queue to follow him towards the exit like he always does.
Even Seokmin, who leads his own flock of kids towards the door, gives Minghao an odd look.
Minghao remains seated, determined to ignore any and all of his colleagues' confused stares, and starts typing random words into a document to look busy.
He does this all the way to 18:15, and the words get more detailed as time goes on, some even forming proper sentences. He types his way into an embarrassed flush, because the last couple of sentences reflect his one and only question: Where is he and why is it not here with me?
It’s gloomy outside, pretty cold even, and he’s sure Sunhee wouldn’t want to risk getting the fuzzy ears on her bag wet.
Minghao watches Mingyu go through his routine. He will meet the parents in the courtyard and they’ll walk to his classroom together as he tries to break the ice. Parents tend to be tense right before being told their children are, say, unhinged.
Minghao quickly closes the Word document, obviously not saving it, before he’s on the receiving end of Mingyu’s knowing grin, shaking his head in amusement.
As usual, Junhwi is dressed in a suit, handsome as ever, and holds the hand of a disgruntled Sunhee.
Minghao can’t stop the curve of his lips, is even showing teeth at one point, but Junhwi only gives him a polite nod of his head in return.
It’s cordial, way too distant in comparison to how he used to be, and now Minghao is disgruntled too.
But this is what he asked for. He wanted a professional atmosphere and for Sunhee’s father to follow their rules, but now that he’s got exactly that, Minghao misses the way Junhwi looked at him before.
It’s unfair, Minghao thinks the entire weekend. It’s unfair how Moon Junhwi kept coming in, disturbing both Minghao’s work and psyche, and that it still haunts Minghao now that he’s no longer doing it.
With two more shifts that lack the businessman, Minghao finally snaps.
Moon Junhwi left a lasting impression, digging his way into Minghao’s mind and staying there like it’s some holiday resort, and Minghao feels that it would only be right to adopt the same strategy.
Getting him to come in seems to be pretty easy as long as there is a reason, so Minghao will just have to start inviting him in.
The only issue with that, is that he has nothing to invite Sunhee’s father in for.
He sighs in defeat, but immediately perks up when he’s struck with an idea.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Missing Signature
Wednesday, 21 September at 10:11
Good morning, Moon Junhwi-ssi.
We have to ask you to come in to sign a form that Sunhee’s file is still missing.
I’m available Monday to Friday from 17:45 to 18:00.
Please let us know what day would be most convenient for you.
Kind regards,
Seo Myungho
Shining Diamond Daycare
+82-2-484-1007
Open from 08:00 to 18:00
⏎ From: [email protected]
Subject: Missing Signature.
Wednesday, 21 September at 10:32
Hello, Seo Myungho-ssi.
I could come in today, would that work for you?
Many thanks,
Moon Junhwi.
Something warm swirls in Minghao’s stomach.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Missing Signature
Wednesday, 21 September at 10:39
Yes, that works. Thank you.
Shining Diamond Daycare
+82-2-484-1007
Open from 08:00 to 18:00
⏎ From: [email protected]
Subject: Missing Signature.
Wednesday, 21 September at 10:43
I will be there at 17:55. It’s just a signature, right? It shouldn’t take too much of your time.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Missing Signature
Wednesday, 21 September at 10:45
I suppose not, but you’ll still have to read the actual document. Signing recklessly is not recommended.
Shining Diamond Daycare
+82-2-484-1007
Open from 08:00 to 18:00
⏎ From: [email protected]
Subject: Missing Signature.
Wednesday, 21 September at 10:49
I promise to read everything and sign responsibly.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Missing Signature
Wednesday, 21 September at 10:51
Okay. We will be expecting you at 17:55 then.
Shining Diamond Daycare
+82-2-484-1007
Open from 08:00 to 18:00
He looks up from the form Minghao just slid forward. “A field trip?”
He is in a goddamn waistcoat again. This one is so dark blue that it’s almost black, standing out beautifully against his white shirt. Not only that, his hair is styled fully off his forehead, leaving Minghao no choice but to stare at the entirety of his handsome face.
Junhwi’s still not the same. He’s rigid, serious, and the distance between them is not enforced by Minghao this time.
“Yeah,” Minghao says, trying to seem professional and not like he spent an hour making a fake form.
“That’s fun,” he replies with a gentle smile that Minghao is embarrassingly relieved by, “do you have one planned?”
“We’re… considering our options,” Minghao answers slowly. “But— uh. It’s good to get parental permission while still in this phase. Gathering signatures once we’ve already planned the trip might lead to complications, you know.”
Junhwi hums. He runs the pen along the bottom of the paper before sliding it back. “Thank you for your time.” He points his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll wait for Sunhee outside.”
“I—” but Minghao can’t get anything else out, because Junhwi gives him a saluting nod and turns.
When the door falls shut, Minghao huffs, flopping back in his chair in annoyance.
“Why was Sunhee’s dad at work yesterday?” Mingyu asks, pouring some warm water into Minghao’s glass. “Did he come back?~”
Minghao hoped this wouldn’t come up.
“One of Sunhee’s documents was still missing a signature,” he replies, trying to sound as casual and disinterested as possible.
“I thought you had parents sign all documents at once?” Wonwoo chimes in curiously.
Minghao gives him a look that unmistakably reads traitor.
The look Mingyu shoots Wonwoo, on the other hand, reads I love you. “Wait, hyung’s right…”
Minghao doesn’t want to eat with them anymore.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Confirmation of information
Friday, 23 September at 11:13
Good morning, Moon Junhwi-ssi.
We need you to come in and confirm some information in Sunhee’s file.
Please let us know what day would be most convenient for you.
Kind regards,
Seo Myungho
Shining Diamond Daycare
+82-2-484-1007
Open from 08:00 to 18:00
⏎ From: [email protected]
Subject: Confirmation of information.
Friday, 23 September at 11:44
Hello.
I’ll come in today. How long do you expect it to take?
Thanks,
Moon Junhwi
From: [email protected]
Subject: Confirmation of information
Friday, 23 September at 11:50
I’m not fully sure. Let’s schedule in the entire 15 minutes, just in case.
Shining Diamond Daycare
+82-2-484-1007
Open from 08:00 to 18:00
⏎ From: [email protected]
Subject: Confirmation of information.
Friday, 23 September at 11:56
Alright. I’ll be there at 17:45 then.
Junhwi keeps his hands in his pockets as Minghao clicks on Sunhee’s file.
He spent a good while looking through it a few hours before, trying to see if there were any gaps or if any of the information was slightly outdated, and he found a few.
“I’m pretty sure I already said she doesn’t have any allergies?” he responds, eyes moving like he’s trying to recall it.
“Just checking if there were any updates,” Minghao says, eyes trained on the computer where, indeed, her lack of allergies are noted.
“On allergies..?”
“You can develop them. Shining Diamond cares about the well-being of the kids.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to suggest—”
“What if we’d feed her, I don’t know, strawberries,” Minghao cuts in, “and she collapses? We’re not interested in a lawsuit.”
The man nods curtly. “I understand,” he says, but there is a confused look on his face still, “but I pack her lunch every day... I thought you didn’t feed the kids here?”
That sends a strike of horror down Minghao’s spine. “Uh— well. It’s— it’s just in case we ever decide to. What if we go on that field trip and we buy everyone ice cream and she has a reaction?”
That makes Junhwi laugh. And though it’s been a while since Minghao’s heard it, he’s at least a little ashamed to admit he wants to put the sound into his pocket for safekeeping. “You’d buy all the kids ice cream? That seems expensive.”
“We’re a very generous daycare, Moon Junhwi-ssi,” he sniffs.
He receives a half-grin. “I guess you are.”
On Monday, Minghao has him come in again. This time, Sunhee’s father doesn’t ask how long it’ll take or let Minghao know when he’ll be there. He just walks in at 17:45.
“Didn’t I say no allergies..?” he frowns as Minghao goes over Sunhee’s file again.
Minghao types a bunch of nonsense into an empty document that he’ll delete later. “Just checking if you weren’t only thinking about food. It would be very unfortunate if, like, I put a bandaid on her and it gives her a rash.”
“Ah, right,” he smirks. “You were very concerned with pollen allergies.”
“Another valid concern,” Minghao replies, begging his ears not to turn red at the mention of that day.
He'd taken the tulips home after a solid half hour of hesitation, and it honestly livened up his kitchen.
“Well,” Junhwi says, folding his hands together on the desk and leaning on them, “I am hereby confirming that my daughter has no allergies of any kind. You can feed her strawberries, ice cream, strawberry ice cream, and she’ll be completely fine. You can even put a strawberry bandaid on her.”
Minghao lets a chuckle slip.
“Is Sunhee’s birthday correct? We don’t want it to be awkward when Mingyu starts singing.”
“Now that’s definitely already in her file.”
“You want me to trust whoever the previous receptionist was?” Minghao asks with a very communicative eyebrow. “They used double spacing.”
Because he’s seeing Junhwi twice a week now, Minghao’s seen a repeat in suits, but he can safely say that he likes him in casual clothes the most.
Because as he walks in today, even though he’s still got those pointy shoes on, his formal clothes have been replaced by blue jeans and a large Champion sweater.
“Good afternoon,” Minghao says as Sunhee’s father approaches the desk, trying but failing to seem unaffected.
“Hi,” says the man, putting his briefcase down. His hair is wet.
“Is it raining?”
“Eh? Oh, no, I had to take an… emergency shower at work,” he says vaguely before realizing what kind of things that might imply. “A colleague spilled tea on me.”
“Oh, shit. Was it still hot?”
Junhwi sucks air through his teeth, nodding. “But I’m fine, no burns or anything.”
“That must’ve been painful, though...”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says softly. “Anyway, what’d you need me for?”
Minghao, frankly, forgot that this visit is not spontaneous. “Oh— right, yes,” he mumbles, sitting up straighter. “So I called you here to see if you’d like to help make and set up decorations for Christmas.” He then quickly adds: “You’re not the only parent we're asking.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“That’s pretty early of you to ask.”
“Not really, it’s already October.”
“First.”
“We’re planning ahead,” Minghao responds, nose turned up. “We like to do that here. Sets a good example for the kids, you know.”
He laughs. “I guess.”
And for the first time since the somewhat forced visits, Junhwi stays to talk until the bell rings.
“No, you don’t get it. This is payback. Revenge. I’m annoying him as much as he annoyed me.”
Wonwoo and Mingyu glance at each other.
“Myungho, I heard you giggling.”
Minghao’s mouth falls open. “No, that— that was him.”
Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. “So you’re annoying him… into giggling?”
He has no reply.
As Minghao grabs his coat to leave Mingyu and Wonwoo’s place later that evening, Mingyu puts his hands on Minghao’s shoulders. “I know you want to have time to flirt with Mr Hot Dad, I get it, but it’s starting to seriously distract the kids.”
And Minghao foolishly replies, “They can just look away, no?”
Mingyu promises drastic measures.
So when Junhwi comes in the following day, his eyes are immediately drawn to the nearest classroom. “That’s Sunhee’s, right?” he asks, confused. “… Why did they cover the door window with black construction paper?”
Minghao clears his throat. “Arts and crafts.”
⏎ From: [email protected]
Subject: Unsigned papers.
Monday, 6 November at 15:02
I’m sorry, Seo Myungho-ssi. I’m really busy right now. I can’t come in today.
Minghao facepalms.
He hadn’t considered that at all. It somehow never even occurred to him that constantly asking Junhwi to come in would obviously mean that he’d have to leave work early.
Minghao’s been pulling him from work for weeks now.
His plan has far surpassed Junhwi's original days of annoyance and it’s a lot more inconvenient for Junhwi than it is for him. In fact, it’s not inconvenient for Minghao in the slightest. On the contrary, it has a positive effect on Minghao’s day.
He decides that it has to come to an end. It’s no longer about annoying Junhwi, hasn't been for a while, but he’s putting this man through a hard time at work solely for his own benefit of seeing and talking to him.
It’s selfish, and Minghao starts considering how he'll put a stop to it when a new email pops up.
⏎ From: [email protected]
Subject: Unsigned papers.
Monday, 6 November at 15:05
I’ll be able to come in tomorrow, though.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Unsigned papers
Monday, 6 November at 15:08
Upon further inspection, these papers can go without being signed for a while. I could leave them with Mingyu for you to sign when you drop Sunhee off some day in the future.
Shining Diamond Daycare
+82-2-484-1007
Open from 08:00 to 18:00
⏎ From: [email protected]
Subject: Unsigned papers.
Monday, 6 November at 15:12
It’s really okay. Like you’ve said, signing papers early avoids complications. I’ll be there tomorrow.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Unsigned papers
Monday, 6 November at 15:15
There really isn’t any urgency, we assure you. We have bothered you enough for a while.
Shining Diamond Daycare
+82-2-484-1007
Open from 08:00 to 18:00
⏎ From: [email protected]
Subject: Unsigned papers.
Monday, 6 November at 15:17
You’ve never bothered me.
Minghao spends a good ten minutes gaping at his screen.
When Minghao walks through the door at 8:50 the following day, his eyes widen at the state of the reception.
There are balloons at each end of the desk, and the art that hung on his wall has been replaced by multiple pieces of paper with messy colored lines drawn onto them. There’s even a large card on his keyboard with an automated birthday message, signed by each of his colleagues.
He wonders how they even know it’s his birthday, but figures Mingyu must have told them.
He smiles to himself, folding the card and putting it in his bag to take home.
As for the drawings, some of them kinda resemble a human, but he sure hopes they're not supposed to be him.
On each corner, there’s the name of the student in neat penmanship, obviously done by a teacher, and he barely recognizes any of the names until his eyes fall on the characters of Moon Sunhee.
He groans at her drawing, which seems to depict him as some sort of age-old wizard.
One would think they’re allowed to do anything they want on their birthday, instead Minghao is peer pressured into spending his usual peaceful lunch outside in the cold.
He shoves the bottom of his face further into his scarf and shoots Mingyu a glare that his friend dismisses.
“Did you like the drawings?”
Minghao watches a kid eat sand. “Let’s just say I don’t think any of them have a career in the arts.”
“They’re preschoolers, Myungho.”
“Well, they do say talent develops early…”
Mingyu shoves his shoulder, laughing. “But did you like them? They tried really hard, you know.”
“Mine is the best, right?”
Like she appeared out of thin air again, Sunhee stares up at him, teeth on display in a large smile, twisting her upper body left and right in anticipation of his answer.
“Yours is very nice, Sunhee-yah,” Mingyu says, clearly not wanting to make her feel better at the expense of another kid. “Myungho-ssi is very happy with it.”
Sunhee is not impressed. “Uncle,” she says, excluding Mingyu from the conversation, “mine was the best, right?”
“No,” he says. “I did not turn 300 years old.”
The child tilts her head, squinting. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Really sure?”
Minghao gives Mingyu a blank look. “I’m going back inside.”
Junhwi gasps as soon as he walks in. “This is festive.”
“They sure have a knack for the dramatics here.”
That gets a chuckle out of him. “I think you fit right in then.”
Minghao snorts, taking Sunhee’s drawing from the wall. It leaves sticky residue. Wonderful.
He slides it towards Junhwi to see.
“Aww,” he coos fondly. “Is that the old guy from Harry Potter?”
Minghao’s face sours. “It’s meant to be me.”
He slowly looks up from the drawing, then barks out a laugh.
“It’s not funny!” Minghao laughs. “Sunhee thinks I’m 300 years old.”
Her father is still smiling. “It’s the hair, I think.”
“It’s not like it grows out of my head like this.” His roots are even showing.
“I don’t think she realizes,” Junhwi says, taking out his phone. “Can I? I like to keep pictures of stuff she makes in a folder.”
Minghao waves a hand. “Go ahead. I’m pretending it’s not me anyway.”
When Junhwi slides the drawing back to the receptionist, he squints at the rest of the front office. “Are all of those drawings meant to be you..?”
“Don’t tell me they actually look like me.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Myungho-ssi,” he says with a smirk, “when you become a parent, you get this… sixth sense. You’re able to make out shapes in a bunch of lines.”
Minghao looks over his shoulder in distaste. “Well, they’re a bunch of lines alright.” When he turns back, Junhwi puts the pieces together.
“... It’s your birthday.”
Minghao nods. “Mingyu must have told everyone. This was all here when I got here.”
“Cute.” He outstretches his hand to shake Minghao’s. “Well, happy 300th birthday.”
Minghao huffs out a light scoff. “Please take off 277 years.”
Junhwi grins, shaking the hand that just slotted into his own. “Happy twenty-third birthday.”
The next day, at 17:45 sharp, Sunhee’s father walks in without Minghao asking him to. He’s hiding something behind his back, and he smiles as he walks up to the desk.
Minghao smiles back at him.
“Hello,” Junhwi says. “Good afternoon.”
“I don’t recall inviting you in, Moon Junhwi-ssi,” he teases.
He laughs nervously. “If you’re gonna ask me to go back outside now…”
Minghao’s ears turn a shade darker. “I won’t.”
Junhwi removes his arm from his back to reveal a single yellow tulip. “Happy birthday. Well, belated birthday now.”
Minghao’s mouth falls slightly open.
“To join the other ones.”
“Those withered a long time ago.” The second he says it, he closes his eyes in annoyance. “I— sorry. Thank you. You didn’t have to, Moon Junhwi-ssi.”
“Wen Junhui,” he corrects gently, switching to Mandarin, “and I wanted to. Please don’t develop a pollen allergy because of it though, Seo Myungho-ssi.”
“Xu Minghao,” he says, hiding his smile behind the flower. “I’ll do my best.”
The following day, Junhui comes in again, placing a bouquet of yellow tulips on the desk.
“To join the other one. It might get lonely otherwise.”
Minghao’s heart thumps in his chest.
Minghao has had Junhui’s number all this time, as he is obviously Sunhee’s emergency contact, but being told to use it for other purposes has Minghao staring at his computer screen with his jaw on the floor, unsure how to proceed.
He never imagined getting this far. He didn’t even realize he was really trying to get anywhere.
But here he is, at the end of his shift, with a fifty message long reply chain staring back at him, finished off by Junhui giving him his number and telling Minghao to “text me next time”.
From the moment Minghao added Wen Junhui to his contacts, his phone’s been burning in his pocket.
He knows the ball is in his court now, as Junhui doesn’t have his number, but Mignhao has no clue what he’s even supposed to say. All the emails they’ve exchanged have always started with something related to, well, Sunhee.
He’s pretty sure saying “Hi, this is Minghao” would suffice, but it just seems lame.
He gnaws on his bottom lip the entire time he walks Bookkeu. He doesn’t want Junhui to think he crossed a line by giving out his number like that, because he didn’t, but it still somehow isn’t enough motivation to risk sending an awkward message.
Minghao might just be more socially inept than he thought he was.
Seungkwan is terrified of taking the elevator with Bookkeu because of some video he saw on the internet and managed to pass his fear to the dog, so Minghao has to tackle seven sets of stairs with a Maltese in his arms.
His friend should be real thankful that Minghao doesn’t mind, because when both your job and your hobbies are best done sitting, you’re basically forced to care about your physical health at least a little bit.
Minghao winds the leash around his hand until it’s as short as it can be to keep Bookkeu from jumping whoever he sees, and walks down the communal hall towards Seungkwan’s front door.
He immediately freezes when he hears a loud “Uncle!”
Slowly turning his head, he’s met with the astonished face of Moon Sunhee.
Minghao looks identically astonished. He’s been walking Seungkwan’s dog for months but has never run into Sunhee before, who must live here based on how comfortable she looks. That also, obviously, means Junhui lives here.
She puts her hands on her hips. “Are you stealing Bookkeu?”
“No,” he says dryly. “I walk him every Saturday afternoon.”
“Why?”
“Because Seungkwan isn’t home on Saturdays.”
“Oh. I live here.”
“Cool,” he replies, feigning nonchalance. He enters the password, opens Seungkwan’s door and takes the leash off. “Should you…” He cranes his neck for any open doors. “Should you be out in the hall like this?”
She shrugs. “Bàba is slow.”
It turns out that she definitely should not be out in the hall like this, as a worried Junhui runs out of the door with one shoe on.
His eyebrows shoot up into his hairline when he spots Minghao and the sneaker he was trying to get on his foot drops unceremoniously to the floor.
“Bàba!” Sunhee shrieks, skipping towards her father. “Look, it’s that boring uncle!”
Junhui's surprised eyes turn stern. The look in itself seems to make an impact, as Sunhee drops her hand from his wrist and pouts. “You know you can’t leave the house without me.”
“But you were slow…”
“If you’re done earlier, you’ll need to wait,” Junhui replies gently. “It’s called being patient, Shanji.”
She sighs sadly. “‘m sorry.”
Junhui hums. He looks from his daughter to Minghao, who is still standing awkwardly at Seungkwan’s door. Minghao assumes, from the semi-formal clothes they’re wearing, that they’re going somewhere.
And Minghao really shot himself in the foot for thinking he wouldn’t run into anyone, because he’s wearing a shabby tracksuit and bucket hat.
“Hi, Minghao,” Junhui smiles. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Yeah, uh. I walk Seungkwan’s dog every Saturday. Have been for a few months, actually.” He scratches at the back of his neck. “Did you only recently move in?”
“I’ve been living here for a few years actually. We must have missed each o—” he looks down at his daughter, tugging on his fingers.
“Bàba,” she whines, “can we go? Pleeeeease.”
He offers Minghao an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, we have to be somewhere. But… can I, you know… on Monday?”
He’s being vague so Sunhee won’t suspect anything, that much is obvious, but it still makes Minghao’s cheeks burn.
“Yeah,” he says, biting back a smile, “yes, you can.”
But Junhui doesn’t come.
Minghao hates his garbage WiFi router.
He has to spend all of Sunday using his phone’s hotspot because it’s experiencing some down time, but when it still hasn’t been fixed the following day, he decides to take his laptop to the daycare to get some work done after his shift.
He’s sure the reason the wifi is so good there is because eight-five percent of the people in the building aren’t using it.
Halfway through the day he’s surprised at how much he’s gotten done, then realizes it’s because he hasn’t been emailing Junhui, who already said he’d come.
Not having to stress about coming up with excuses increases his productivity tenfold apparently.
But when the 17:45 mark hits, there’s nothing.
Minghao tries not to think too much of it. Junhui doesn’t always come exactly fifteen minutes early, but by the time it’s 17:52, Minghao checks his inbox in case Junhui emailed him about a change of plans. A new one pops up as he refreshes, but it’s not from the parent he wants it to be from.
Minghao wonders if now would be a good time to send the first text— “Hey hope everything’s okay haha” —but he is not that desperate.
When the bell rings, Minghao spent all of those eight minutes tapping his nails against his desk staring at nothing. Disappointed, he watches everyone make their way towards the exit.
When Minghao genuinely considers looking through the window to watch Junhui pick up Sunhee, he realizes that he might be a little desperate after all. He blames it on seeing Junhui almost every day, which he has no one to blame for but himself, so it’s really just Minghao that has a problem.
He gets out of his chair, stretches, and trudges towards the breakroom to get himself a new cup of tea and a snack.
Some of his colleagues are already there, chatting as they get ready to go home, but the conversations die down when they see him.
“You’re still here?”
Guess his leaving-immediately reputation really does precede him.
“The wifi in my apartment isn’t working,” Minghao says as he turns the kettle on. “Staying behind to get some work done.”
Seokmin pats him on the back, wishing him good luck.
He spends longer than usual getting his tea ready, just because he has all the time in the world now, and watches more colleagues grab their coats and leave. When he thinks they’re all gone, he picks up his teacup, puts a biscuit between his teeth and walks back to his desk.
Minghao almost drops everything when he finds Mingyu sitting behind his computer with none other than Moon Sunhee.
He slowly takes the biscuit out of his mouth, understanding what’s going on.
“I’m looking up his phone number,” Mingyu says.
Minghao looks over Mingyu’s shoulder at the mail icon at the bottom of the screen, but there’s no new email. He glances at Sunhee, who tiredly leans against the chair.
“You know what,” Minghao says, “I’ll… wait with her. You can go home.”
It makes Mingyu grin. “Because you’ll get to flirt?”
“Because I know Wonwoo-hyung is waiting for you and I’m staying here for a while anyway. This isn’t about flirting.”
Mingyu doesn’t seem convinced, but he still gets out of Minghao’s chair. “Sunhee-yah, Myungho-ssi is staying here with you as he calls Appa, okay?”
Sunhee immediately pulls a face. “Like last time?”
“Yes, like last time,” Mingyu replies.
“Nooo,” she complains, throwing herself at her teacher’s leg. “Ahjussi is boring!”
Minghao’s blood is starting to match the temperature of his drink.
“That’s not a nice thing to say, Sunhee,” Mingyu gently scolds her. “Think about his feelings.”
And Sunhee just stares at him, processing his words, before turning to Minghao and saying, “I don’t want him to stay anymore, uncle.”
After a quick translation, Mingyu takes it as his cue to leave. He wishes Minghao good luck as he hands him the keys to the building. Minghao gives him a nod in return.
Two minutes later, Minghao removes the desk phone from his ear. He even gives it a try with his own phone, but Junhui doesn’t pick up.
He dives back into Sunhee’s file for Kwon Soonyoung’s phone number, but he too does not pick up.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters as he pushes the phone back on its stand. A little harder than maybe necessary. “Why buy a phone if you don’t use it for its main goddamn purpose.”
Sunhee, who claimed Minghao’s chair immediately once Mingyu left, speaks up. “Who did you call?”
“Your Soonyoung-oppa,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes.
“Oh. Oppa never answers,” she replies casually, biting on the nail of her thumb. “Makes Appa mad.”
Minghao gapes.
He knows he called Junhui in for dumb reasons, but Junhui seems to have really come in just to give Minghao a number he knows is completely useless; someone who is apparently so notorious for not picking up that even a five-year-old knows about it.
The only thing they can do now is wait until Junhui remembers he procreated.
He told Minghao it wouldn’t happen again, and he really did seem sincere, so however annoying it is to have to stay with Sunhee, Minghao is worried about Junhui.
He really hopes Junhui’s just stuck in a meeting instead of actually having forgotten Sunhee, or worse, gotten in some kind of accident on the way here.
Realizing that is a serious possibility, Minghao quickly reaches for his phone and searches for any recent local news, but only finds an article about a cat rescued from a tree.
“Why do you look like that?”
Minghao turns his head towards the child. “Like… what?”
“Like you need to go—” she holds up two fingers.
Don’t scowl at her, she’s just a child. Don’t scowl at her, she’s just a child. “It’s not constipation. It’s worry.”
“Worry about what?”
He closes his mouth before he can get a word out. Being honest might make her worry, so he hits her with a question of his own. “Why did you want your teacher to leave?”
She moves her little feet, her face sour. “Because he sounded like Appa.”
“Because he scolded you?”
“What’s scolded?”
“Like, a little angry with you.”
“Oh,” she says. “Yeah. You’re not like Appa.”
Minghao blinks. “Uh, okay. What am I like then?”
“When you get mad it’s funny.”
His mouth drops open. “I’m not here to provide comedic relief!”
That makes her burst into giggles, actively proving her point.
He scrubs a hand over his face, annoyed.
She sinks down in the chair, creating several double chins. “Is Appa coming soon?”
“That is not good for your back, Sunhee,” Minghao says from where he’s forced to sit on the floor. She begrudgingly straightens up. “I don’t know when Appa’ll be coming.”
“Why not?”
Because he didn’t pick up. He figures the best way to keep Sunhee from thinking about her father— or lack thereof —is to keep her distracted.
He runs a hand through his hair, sighing quietly to himself as he goes: “What do you like, Sunhee?”
It works. She immediately perks up and starts naming things like pink, baby cats, playing, Appa. She eagerly continues, mentioning movies Minghao’s never heard of, a bunch of different cat breeds, her friends, Soonyoung-oppa, Mihyun-unnie, and then some other names he guesses are Junhui’s friends.
When she finishes, she is slightly out of breath, but looks at him with big, twinkling eyes.
Minghao started paying closer attention when she started listing people, and now that she’s finished and looking happy about who she named, Minghao realizes that her mother must not be present in her life. She’s not mentioned in any of Sunhee’s records in any way, shape or form either.
He figures that if Junhui was in a serious long-term relationship with someone other than Sunhee’s biological mother, that person would have been her second emergency contact, but instead it’s a goddamn phone neglecter.
“That’s nice,” he says, but he’d hoped she’d list something that would inspire an activity for them to do. “Now what do you like that we could do, you know, in here?”
She deflates a little. “I dunno.”
He scratches his neck, thinking about the games that are downloaded onto the computer. “Do you want to play Tetris?”
He’s never seen someone like this displeased at one of his suggestions.
Minghao huffs. “Geez, okay, no Tetris. Good god…”
She starts moving around like a dog trying to find the right spot, and the noises coming from the old chair don't help with Minghao’s growing headache.
Maybe he should have let Mingyu handle this after all.
“What do you like, uncle?” she asks after twenty seconds of non-stop squeaking.
“Uh,” he says lamely. “I like to paint. And draw. Do creative things with my hands and stuff.”
Minghao thinks this is the first time she’s been interested in what he has to say. “Me too! I draw really good horses.”
“Cool.”
“Can you?”
“Draw a horse? I’m not sure. In my own way, maybe?” He isn’t known to draw concrete objects much. “I’ve never tried.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not interested in drawing horses.”
She looks like he just said something wildly offensive. “But horses are the best thing to draw!”
“I disagree.”
"It's true!”
“What about landscapes? Can you draw a landscape?”
She sags in the chair. “That’s boring.”
Minghao sighs, exhausted. “You think it’s boring, just like I think horses aren’t fun to draw. People can like or dislike different things, and that’s okay. There are people who don’t like pink, you know. Or,” he motions at her bag, “Hello Kitty.”
“My Melody.”
He gives her a blank look, but she doesn’t relent. “Fine. Not everyone likes My Melody.”
She laughs.
Minghao’s about to get up and get her some paper when his phone starts ringing. He doesn’t even check the ID before pressing it to his ear, fine with just about anyone as long as they provide some kind of relief.
“Oh my God,” comes the breathless voice of Wen Junhui. “I am so sorry. The meeting was scheduled from four to five-thirty and I normally would have been able to leave but they told me they wanted me to take the lead and I had to prepare a whole thing and then it ran super late. I didn’t have access to my phone at all but please know I wanted to leave the entire time. I know you hate staying late and just— I’m so sorry, Minghao.”
He furrows his eyebrows. “Are you running?”
“To my car.”
All the irritation he’s felt towards Sunhee during the past half hour evaporates. Junhui’s voice will do that to you.
“Well, don’t,” Minghao sighs, “you’ll hurt yourself.”
There is a pause on the other side of the line. “Okay, I’ve slowed down a bit.”
“Well, slow down more. I was already staying late because the wifi at my apartment isn’t working, so…” Sunhee watches Minghao like a hawk. “Your daughter is—”
“Bàba!” she shouts at Minghao’s phone. “I’m hungryyyy.”
“—fine,” he finishes, clipped. “I just want to make sure you don’t run multiple red lights.”
Junhui laughs. “You would allow one red light?”
“I mean, I’m not opposed to you getting here faster, but I don’t want to be complicit in your…” he glances at Sunhee and realizes he can’t say anything too morbid, “untimely passing.”
Junhui laughs again. “I’ll drive safely.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Sorry again.”
“It’s fine,” he replies dismissively, but it seems to shock both of them. It took Minghao days to accept Junhui’s first few apologies, but the circumstances are different this time. Maybe on several aspects. “I’ll see you in a bit then.”
“You will,” Junhui insists, followed by Minghao quickly removing the phone from his ear at some loud pop song ripping his drums apart. “Sorry. The radio just turned on.”
“Believe me, I heard. Knock on the door when you’re here, yeah?”
“Yes. I’ll knock as hard as I can.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Just trying to make this easier for you.”
“By breaking the glass and hurting yourself? I’m good,” Minghao chuckles. He freezes at the distasteful look Sunhee is shooting his way. “Uh— bye.”
“Bye, Minghao. See you soon.”
“Was that Bàba?” she asks even though she must have heard his voice for her to barge into the conversation like that.
“No, that was my mother and you very rudely yelled at her,” he says, pocketing his phone. “Yes, that was your father. He’ll be here in twenty minutes.”
“Two Spongebob episodes,” she recalls, to which he nods his head impressively.
“That’s right. Do you want to watch any?”
“No.”
They spend the full twenty minutes bickering. Sunhee makes fun of Minghao’s cluelessness about what girls her age like while Minghao tries to bring nuance to just about everything she says.
When Junhui knocks on the door, both Minghao and Sunhee jump up. This time, for the same reason.
They make eye-contact, like they’re age-old rivals getting ready to joust, but Minghao is not about to lose his composure like that. He lets Sunhee run up to the door while he walks at a leisure pace.
It means she has to stand there bouncing on her legs until he gets there, and she looks pissed he didn’t actually race her.
“There, there,” he mumbles as he opens the door. The kid jumps onto her father’s arms immediately.
He’s not holding a briefcase this time, so he picks her up easily.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispers to her while Minghao pretends to be interested in something on the wall. Junhui recites his whole apology to his daughter, not leaving anything out this time as it wasn’t his fault, and she just hums along to whatever he says, glad he’s here.
A tap to his arm takes Minghao’s eyes back to the duo, where he finds Junhui smiling at him. “Hey.”
It’s infectious. “Hey.”
“I’m really thankful for you,” he says, so genuine it makes Minghao weak in the knees. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to let you know.”
Minghao leans against the doorframe. “Maybe you should get a Bat-Signal.”
“You’re right,” he says, smile stretching wider. “I should definitely invest in one.”
“Call it Dad-Signal.”
Sunhee, from Junhui’s arms, whines when her father laughs at the joke. “Bàba,” she complains. Can we go?”
“Yes, yes,” he breathes, shifting her in his arms a bit so she’s more comfortable, “we’re going.”
But she spends half an hour sporting a sour expression, as that’s the exact amount of time Junhui and Minghao talk at the door.
“How long is this gonna keep going on for?” Mingyu whines as he throws himself across Minghao’s desk. It’s the end of the week, and Junhui came in two more times just to chat. “The kids may have liked my Halloween excuse before but they’re sick of not being able to look into the hallway. Like, can’t you start hanging out somewhere else? Haven’t we come to that point?”
“What point?”
(A point where Junhui emails him “On my way” on the days he’ll come in early, which is almost every day now.)
Minghao shoos him with his hand. “And get off my desk.”
Mingyu rolls his eyes. “The point where you admit you’re interested in one another and move things along.”
“I’m not…” but the rest of the sentence dies in his throat before he admits defeat with a sigh. “Well, where do you suggest we ‘hang out’ then?”
He immediately throws himself off the desk in glee. “I knew it!”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Minghao dismisses. “I don’t know to what extent I’m interested, though. I mean he has a kid.”
“A kid that is obsessed with you.”
“Obsessed with irritating me maybe.” He sighs again. “It’s just— her dad is just so…”
“Handsome. Thoughtful. Cute,” Mingyu teases. “Believe me, you’ve told me all about it.”
“Could you,” Minghao says through his teeth, “and I know this is a foreign concept to you, actually be helpful and answer my question?”
Mingyu folds his hands together, pretending to beg. “Just anywhere but here, man. Your desk reeks of repressed feelings.”
Minghao throws a pen at him.
He’s never put this much effort into walking Bookkeu.
He spends an embarrassingly long time picking an outfit and even longer on his hair, only to look everything but cool when he curses loudly on the sidewalk because he forgot to grab the dog treats.
Though Bookkeu likes Minghao enough, there is no way to get his attention if you're not carrying a treat to bribe him with.
The dog is rightfully confused when Minghao turns them around after only three minutes of being outside, but he thankfully doesn’t struggle too much as Minghao picks him up to walk up the dreaded seven flights of stairs.
With Bookkeu in one arm, he punches in Seungkwan’s code and stretches to reach the treats from the doormat, not in the mood to take his shoes off again. He’s able to grab them, albeit barely and clumsily, and he shoves the baggy in his coat pocket before putting Bookkeu back on the floor and closing the door behind them.
“Hey.”
Minghao jumps.
Junhui’s smiling at him, dressed comfortably and leaning against his door frame two doors down the opposite wall. His hair isn’t styled, lying cutely on his forehead, which is the opposite of what Minghao imagines his own bangs to look like now that they’re sticking to his sweaty forehead. Goddammit.
“Hey,” Minghao says, running a hand through it. “I— didn’t expect to see you.” It’s technically not a lie, as he couldn’t have expected to see Junhui, but he was hoping he would. “Sunhee’s sleeping?”
“She's at a friend’s.” Junhui leans further against the doorframe. “Believe me, if she was sleeping, she would have definitely woken up as soon as I opened this door.”
Minghao simply nods in agreement. “She’s very…”
“Curious,” Junhui fills in for him, even though that’s definitely a nicer version of what Minghao had in mind.
And then they just stare at each other for a second or three, in complete silence, and Minghao figures this is exactly what Mingyu was referring to. If he’s genuinely interested in Junhui, to whatever degree that may be, he should spend time with him outside of the daycare. Move things along.
“You’re going out for a walk?”
He almost forgot about the dog. “Oh. Yeah.”
“Can I join you? Bookkeu knows me already.” He squats in front of the dog, who is as excited as always to be given attention. A cheeky grin crosses Junhui’s lips when he looks back at Minghao. “Or do I need to make an appointment first?”
It gets a light-hearted scoff out of Minghao.
That seems to egg Junhui on further. “Should I wait outside?”
Minghao rolls his eyes, but there’s a fondness there that betrays him.
“Let me grab my coat.” The large champion sweater Junhui wore that one time must have been his own because he’s wearing it again, and after a few minutes, he steps out of his apartment with a large puffer jacket and white sneakers.
Minghao is affected by it, that much he can admit. It’s like they’re stepping out of their work-related characters and into those of normal, everyday human beings. People with lives and feelings.
Junhui holds open every door for them until they’re outside, which Minghao assumes he does because Minghao’s holding a leash already and it could make opening doors awkward, but it barely ever does. Junhui is just nice like that.
It’s cold out. Kids wobble around in their big outfits while parents fuss over them, and Junhui kindly nods his head at everyone they pass. Meanwhile, Bookkeu doesn’t seem to care that Minghao is trying to keep his cool, pulling on the leash like he’s never been outside before.
At one point they’re almost skipping forward.
But Junhui doesn’t seem to mind, or just doesn’t comment on it, keeping up with the unnatural pace as they make conversation. Minghao explains he knows Seungkwan through Mingyu when Junhui asks, adds that he knows Mingyu from college, and Junhui listens with interested mhms and oh really?s.
“Is he a good neighbor?”
“I mean, people have complained about how much noise he makes, but I don’t mind. He’s friendly,” Junhui says. “Always lets Sunhee see Bookkeu when she asks to or lets me have some sugar when I’ve run out.”
“Oh, you bake?”
He grins proudly. “And cook. Kinda comes with the territory of having a kid.”
Minghao leads them through the gate into the fenced-in dog park area, where he leans down to release Bookkeu.
Junhui laughs at the dog’s enthusiastic escape, to which Minghao mumbles: “He acts like he’s being held captive.”
When he straightens back up, Junhui is smiling softly at him. “You know, I think it’s really nice of you to walk him when Seungkwan can’t.”
“It’s nothing,” Minghao says. “I live, like, ten minutes away.”
“Still,” he insists. “It’s sweet.”
Junhui’s cheeks and nose are a little pink because of the cold. He’s covering his mouth with the top of his jacket, hands still burrowed in the pockets, and the front of his dark hair flows prettily with the mild wind.
Minghao hears Bookkeu bark in the distance, and he has to peel his eyes away from Junhui to check if the dog hasn’t caused any trouble. Turns out he barked at an empty box.
He sighs while Junhui laughs.
“Do you prefer cats?”
“Right now? Definitely,” Minghao grouses. “Do you?”
He nods. “I grew up having them, but I don’t have any right now. Maybe when Sunhee’s older.” Minghao guesses it’s because Junhui is scared of something like Sunhee pulling its tail, but then he elaborates, “Raising a preschooler by myself at twenty-four is enough for now.”
It’s obvious from the way he says it that he thought Minghao might be curious about his age, and Minghao feels a little embarrassed that he already knew it. He stared at Junhui’s file a humiliating amount of time.
It also fully confirms that Sunhee's mother is not part of their lives.
It doesn’t take long before Bookkeu runs up to them looking for a treat. Minghao digs into his pocket for the treats, then crouches down with an open palm that Bookkeu immediately shoves his wet nose into. Within a second, he’s off again.
All those extra stairs for this.
“Ungrateful, aren’t they?” Junhui jokes. “He’ll say thank you one day.”
“Not while I walk him, I hope. A talking dog attracts too much attention.”
Bookkeu almost immediately comes back for another treat now that he knows Minghao brought them, so Minghao offers one to Junhui to give. He squats easily, thighs enlarged and shoulders broadened, and Minghao doesn’t even pretend that he’s looking at the dog.
“Aren’t you used to attention from all the kids, though?”
Minghao’s face splits into a grin. “Nah, they don’t really bother me much,” he replies, “it’s mostly the parents.”
Junhui smirks back at him. “Something tells me you don’t mind that much.”
He supposes he doesn’t, not anymore.
Well, as long as it’s this parent.
Minghao shrugs coyly before whistling to get Bookkeu’s attention. With the help of another treat, he gets the leash back on, but Junhui offers to hold it as they make their way back to the apartment complex.
The dog, now energy-drained, doesn’t pull and finally lets Junhui and Minghao actually walk side by side.
Junhui explains that he’s in sales, because as much as they’ve talked about him being at work and having meetings and as much as Minghao has ogled Junhui in his suits, Minghao didn’t actually know what his job was exactly. “It’s a lot more boring than what you do, I bet.”
“At least you don’t have to wipe vomit off the walls.”
“Hey, at least you get paid to do it.”
Minghao huffs out a laugh that’s more like a scoff. “But the vomit you’re cleaning came from someone you love.”
Junhui laughs, unlocking the door to the building. “When she gets it on the carpet, debatable.” He doesn’t even seem to consider using the elevator, making Minghao wonder if Sunhee hates it too, and carefully picks an exhausted Bookkeu up before they go up to the seventh floor.
Junhui makes a joke about Bookkeu weighing nothing in comparison to the groceries he has to carry while also having Sunhee somewhere in his arms, and Minghao can only imagine what other sacrifices parents make to please their kids.
Despite strictly using the elevator, Minghao has always been thankful he lives on the third floor.
It’s no surprise that Junhui is less out of breath than Minghao is when they’ve made it all the way up, and he pokes light fun at Minghao before letting him lead the way to Seungkwan’s door.
Bookkeu suddenly regains all his energy once Minghao gets the door open, rushing to the bowl he knows Minghao will fill up.
He pushes his shoes off his feet and stores the bag of treats away before following the dog into the apartment. He makes quick work of scooping a cup of giblets into one bowl before filling another with water, and eager as ever, Bookkeu jumps on his food before Minghao has even set it down.
Seungkwan should invest in a slow-feeder with the way the dog inhales his meal.
“Hey, Minghao?” Junhui asks from the doormat.
He turns on the faucet to wash his hands. “Hm?”
“Do you have any other plans today?”
The implication is clear, and Minghao knows this could be a critical moment in their progressing… thing.
A turning point.
By telling the truth, Minghao is fully acknowledging that Junhui is no longer just the father of one of the daycare kids that he likes the face of. No longer just an emergency number, no longer just a random man Minghao calls into the daycare to tease, but someone he actually wants to get to know. Someone Minghao might have a crush on.
He dries his hands, gives Bookkeu a nod, and meets Junhui’s eye at the opposite end of Seungkwan’s entryway. Junhui also knows that his question is kind of loaded, as his usual confidence doesn’t read as strongly as he waits for Minghao’s answer.
“I don’t.”
Junhui smiles, making room for Minghao to put his shoes back on. “Can I invite you into my apartment? You would think someone babysitting your kid would give you time to rest but I also get kinda bored.”
Minghao tries not to look up as he works his last shoelace, scared of how he might react when he finds a casually-dressed Wen Junhui smiling down at him, but his eyes end up moving of their own accord.
He nearly loses balance at the sight, staying upright only because of Junhui’s steadying hand on his shoulder.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “Okay.”
He locks Seungkwan’s home, then follows Junhui into his.
He shouldn’t have put all that effort into putting his shoes back on as he's taking them right back off now. There are two boxes against the wall, unlabelled, but anyone could tell which one belongs to who. The one on the left has three pairs of tiny pink shoes in it.
The apartment is identical to Seungkwan’s in structure; the kitchen is tucked into the corner of the living room and one bedroom is significantly larger than the other, but it’s by no means impossible for two people to live in.
It is also, to Minghao’s surprise, really clean.
Unlike Seungkwan’s apartment, all flat surfaces have neatly organized trinkets on them instead of empty cups and mismatched clutter. Asking Minghao what toys kids Sunhee’s age play with would be like asking him to speak Russian, and he still wouldn’t be able to answer the question now. There aren’t any in sight.
He turns to Junhui, who was patiently waiting for Minghao to finish taking in the apartment. “You look like you were expecting something else.”
“No, no,” Minghao insists quickly. “I— uh, didn’t actually know what to expect.”
Junhui takes it as the compliment that it is and turns towards one of the overhead cabinets. The one he opens shows his collection of cups, including bright purple ones with scribbles on the sides and some slightly deformed green ones, but Junhui takes out two normal-looking gray ones.
Minghao leans against the wall. “Is Sunhee with your friend Soonyoung?”
“Yeah,” he says, opening another cabinet, “he and his girlfriend babysit her sometimes. She’s known them her whole life so she loves being there.” He opens another, clearly looking for something. “Can I make you some tea? I have your favorite.”
A warm feeling pools in his stomach. “You… know my favorite tea?”
Junhui looks over his shoulder, grinning. “Jasmine.”
Minghao’s mouth opens a little in shock.
He pulls out a big tea bag organizer and places it on the table for Minghao to see, opening its glass lid. “The reception always smells like it.” He meets Minghao’s gaze, teasing. “So if you don’t want parents coming in, maybe you should try making it smell less inviting.”
“Oh, so it was the jasmine that kept you coming back?” Minghao teases back. “I should start drinking Red Bell or something then.”
Junhui chuckles. “Wouldn’t matter, I don’t think.” He puts a bag in each mug before taking them to the counter to pour the water in. “You smell like jasmine too, you know. All the time. Even outside.”
“Oh.” Minghao subtly brings his nose to his shoulder to take a whiff, but finds nothing. Probably desensitized. He hopes it isn’t too strong.
“Don’t worry, it’s nice.” Junhui reassures him softly. “I really like it.”
Chapter Text
Despite Mingyu’s enthusiastic reaction to Minghao spending time in Junhui’s apartment, he still won’t stand for any of the rest. He even threatened to lock the front door.
Excessive, maybe, but Minghao acknowledges that it’s unfortunately gotten a little out of hand. Junhui even came thirty minutes early last time and none of his colleagues were particularly happy about that.
Minghao, though, was delighted.
So, if he still wants to see Junhui at the daycare, he’ll have to get creative.
But the playing field isn’t entirely even, because while Junhui can tell his boss he needs to leave early for the sake of his child, Minghao obviously can’t.
He considers packing his stuff extra early so he can be out of the building the second the clock strikes six, leaving him about three minutes before Sunhee’ll jump in her father’s arms, and though that doesn’t compare to what it was before, it’s something.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Hey
Monday, 20 November at 10:47
Hey, I’ll meet you in the courtyard today or Mingyu will stuff me in a piñata and ship me to a birthday party to die.
⏎ From: [email protected]
Subject: Hey
Monday, 20 November at 10:52
Hello Minghao~
That’s… graphic
Let’s make sure that doesn’t happen
From: [email protected]
Subject: Hey
Monday, 20 November at 10:54
I’ll be out at exactly six. I'll come find you
⏎ From: [email protected]
Subject: Hey
Monday, 20 November at 10:58
See you then 😊
After leaving through the front door and walking across the building towards the courtyard, he slides up next to a grinning Junhui.
“I see you’re still in one piece?”
Minghao’s lip curls up. “For now.”
“Well, you’re in luck. They all have bad aim at this age.”
He huffs. “That just means it’ll go on forever.”
Junhui laughs, light and airy, and the other parents are given them odd looks as they continue to talk. They’re probably wondering what the receptionist is doing here and with Junhui specifically, but Minghao ignores them. He only has two minutes left.
The day before, on Sunday, Minghao uploaded a sped-up painting video where he smiled at the camera to TikTok. A KaKaoTalk message came shortly after, pointing out how he and his art have been looking brighter recently. Jeonghan tends to gauge his mood off of his posts.
Minghao sent a vague message about his job being less tiring lately, to which Jeonghan replied: I’m sure that’s what it is ;)
He’s clearly been talking to Mingyu.
But Jeonghan is right. It was unconscious at first, maybe, but Minghao knows the stuff he makes has become a lot less macabre lately. The angry splatter piece he made nearly three months ago is a stark contrast to the three most recent posts at the top of his feed. Though he likes that his page represents different sides of him and his feelings, he much prefers the lighter theme. Both in his work and his head.
Back in the courtyard, Junhui animatedly tells a story from the office, about the vending machine malfunctioning and everyone fighting to get a free snack, and Minghao is so caught up in it, in Junhui’s way of talking and how he looks in this dark blue suit, that he almost doesn’t register the kids spilling out of the door.
Before Mingyu spots him and gives him an earful about still hanging around the daycare, and before Sunhee can run up to them and throw a fit about wanting to leave, Minghao gives Junhui a parting smile that Junhui copies.
“See you tomorrow?” he asks, hopeful.
Minghao nods. “I’ll come find you.”
The following day, it takes Minghao three hours to notice that he’s gotten nothing done yet.
Seokmin asked him to send emails to his kids’ parents about wearing cheap clothing on Monday for a painting session, Sooyoung asked him to contact the local library to see if they had anything new and Mingyu wanted to have food delivered for lunch.
There’s also a ton of paperwork to organize.
His inbox’s been keeping him a little busy.
He meets Junhui in the courtyard again on Wednesday, this time three minutes earlier, and the staring intensifies. It's starting to eat at Minghao, but Junhui either doesn’t notice or isn’t bothered by it. Maybe, after having had a kid so young, he’s used to it.
“You look nice,” Junhui whispers, gently flicking the chain dangling from Minghao’s glasses.
Says Junhui, wearing another one of those damn waistcoats under his coat. Minghao saw it when Junhui opened his puffer to take his phone out.
It's like he knows it drives Minghao crazy.
Junhui’s big coat looks a little silly on top of his dress pants, but Minghao thinks it’s cute. Versatility, or whatever.
He still hasn't used Junhui's number, but he’s started emailing Junhui with his personal email address so none of his colleagues accidentally stumble on the hundreds of emails between them. And, well, he wants to reread them when he’s in bed.
Sue him.
Minghao still only emails Junhui during the day, though, but it’s a small step towards using the phone number in the future.
Which he does plan to do. He just— needs to find the right way to do it.
Minghao doesn’t know if Sunhee being at Soonyoung’s on Saturdays is a regular thing now, but once Minghao puts Bookkeu’s leash on and looks at Junhui’s door, he’s willing to risk it.
He knocks twice, not wanting to ring the bell just in case, then fiddles with the leash as he waits.
When the door opens after half a minute and he lays eyes on Junhui, Minghao knows he’s blushing.
His hair is tousled, shirt rumpled, and there’s some color on his cheeks as well. But it’s the gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips in particular that have Minghao short-circuiting.
“Hi.” Even his voice is lower. Jesus Christ.
Minghao clears his throat. “Sorry if I— did I wake you up?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He leans his bare forearm against the doorframe, showing it off whether he means to or not. Minghao’s never seen him without a long-sleeved shirt and he almost doesn’t hear Junhui’s question because of it. “... Bookkeu again?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah, every Saturday.”
“I’ll join you,” Junhui says before he grins. “Or was that not why you knocked?”
“No,” he says, playing along. “I came to collect all that sugar you borrowed from Seungkwan.”
Junhui laughs, then points his thumb into his apartment. “I’ll put on something warmer. Do you want to come in?”
Normally, he would have said yes, but he doesn’t exactly know how Bookkeu acts in other people’s apartments and Minghao also doesn't want to get dog hair all over Junhui’s floor, so he shakes his head. He lifts the leash a little just so Junhui knows it’s because of the dog. “I’ll wait here.”
“Just a sec.”
Three minutes later, now with a large sweater and his puffer but still in those damn sweatpants, Junhui locks the door behind him.
Because of the cold, Minghao is wearing gloves and a scarf, but Junhui just pushes his fists into the pockets of his coat and his nose into the high collar.
“Sunhee not home?”
Junhui tells him she’s at Soonyoung. “It’s become a thing recently. She’s there every Saturday now, for a few hours.”
As they make their way to the dog park, Bookkeu thankfully doesn’t pull as much. They manage to walk side by side whenever the sidewalk allows for it.
“Last time you said you got bored, right?”
“Kinda. I’m just not really used to being at home without her yet, but I’m really grateful that they want to babysit her.” He further dips his face under his collar, making it a little hard to hear him. “It's… always been just me and her. Since she was born.”
And he was only nineteen. “That must have been hard.”
Junhui hums. “Before she started preschool, I was with her all the time. Twenty-four seven.”
“How did you…”
“Do it? I dropped out of college and worked from home until she was old enough.”
Minghao wonders about Sunhee’s mother, what happened to her, but it feels too soon to ask.
“It was hard, it still is, but I wouldn’t change anything,” Junhui says solemnly. “She’s everything to me.”
Minghao holds the gate to the dog park open for them both. “She really loves you.”
A smile shows up above the collar. “That’s— I’m happy to hear that.”
He takes the leash off of Bookkeu and the dog, as per usual, sprints off. “Does she not tell you?”
“No, she definitely does,” Junhui chuckles. “It’s just nice to hear it from someone else.”
Minghao can see why that would mean a lot to someone whose daughter doesn’t really see many other adults.
“She likes you a lot.”
That has Minghao frowning immediately.
“Seriously. She talks about you all the time,” he says before increasing the pitch in his voice. “Uncle this, uncle that.”
Minghao pulls a face. “She’s got to stop calling me uncle.”
That makes Junhui laugh. “I don't think she will anytime soon.” He slowly raises his hand, then carefully puts a strand of gray hair behind Minghao’s ear to prove his point.
It has his heart beating wildly.
“I can talk to her about it, if it really bothers you,” Junhui offers, drawing his hand back.
But Minghao can only hear the badum, badum, badum in his chest.
“Would you like that?”
For you to do that again? Yeah. Yes, please.
“Minghao?”
“Huh?”
Junhui chuckles. “For me to speak to Shanji about it.”
“Oh,” Minghao breathes. The chances of her changing it are zero, so he waves a hand. “Don’t bother.”
As they continue to talk, they naturally huddle closer together until Minghao could whisper and be understood.
With several treats, they manage to gain Bookkeu’s attention, but before Minghao can put the leash back on Junhui offers to hold it on their way back again.
Minghao lets him, but not before saying: “This won’t do, though.”
He takes one of his gloves off, tentatively takes Junhui’s right hand out of his pocket and carefully pulls it over his fingers. Though he does it with conviction, Minghao is blushing all the way up to his neck.
“They’ll, uh, get cold otherwise.”
Junhui flexes his gloved fingers, then smiles so sweetly that it has Minghao blushing even further.
With his knees brought up as a make-shift desk for his sketchbook, Minghao calls his mother.
She immediately fusses over him, but once Minghao assures her that he's feeling good and eating well, she wants to know what he’s been up to.
He tells her how excited he is to come home for Christmas and see her again. She immediately goes into the dishes she plans to make for him and he is suddenly overwhelmed by how much he misses her. How much he loves her.
She's always been supportive of his hobbies, which Minghao has always been grateful for, but she worried he wouldn’t be able to support himself. When he let her know that he was working full time while trying to grow his online presence, she was clearly relieved.
She asks about his job now, and Minghao bites back a smile. “It's been… more exciting lately.”
His mother clasps her hand together. “Ah, I'm so happy to hear that.”
She tries to pry, but Minghao manages to stay as vague as possible.
He thinks. She keeps sending him knowing looks.
An hour later, after they’ve finished planning out his entire visit, Minghao finally looks down at the page he'd been drawing on as the phone call went on.
The graphite is a little light on the page, as if he could possibly blame it on being an accident, but the face that stares back at him is unmistakably Junhui's.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Hey
Monday, 27 November at 13:14
By the way, what does your car look like?
⏎ From: [email protected]
Subject: Hey
Monday, 27 November at 13:27
It’s a black Kia K5
Whatever that means.
⏎ From: [email protected]
Subject: Hey
Monday, 27 November at 13:36
You're not judging me by the car I drive I hope 😜
From: [email protected]
Subject: Hey
Monday, 27 November at 13:43
Definitely not
I don’t know shit about cars
⏎ From: [email protected]
Subject: Hey
Monday, 27 November at 13:45
Hahaha
Then why ask!!
From: [email protected]
Subject: Hey
Monday, 27 November at 13:46
Because the courtyard isn’t really an ideal place to talk either so I'll meet you at your car if that’s okay?
⏎ From: [email protected]
Subject: Hey
Monday, 27 November at 13:50
Of course
See you later~
Minghao knows Sunhee is going to complain the second she notices that she and Junhui aren’t immediately going home, but he hopes she can hold out for at least five minutes.
It's all he's asking for, really. Preferably more but— five would be nice.
She lasts two.
Minghao retreats to his car, disappointed, and dumps his forehead on the steering wheel.
He knows Sunhee can't help it. He doesn't blame her for wanting to go home and relax with her father after a long day, so Minghao should just be glad he was able to see Junhui at all.
But he isn't, not really. He can tell these daycare flirting sessions— as Mingyu puts it —are not enough anymore.
He wants more.
He goes to Jeonghan and Joshua's apartment for dinner, who seem to easily pick up on his mood. They don’t mention it, waiting patiently for him to bring it up, but Jeonghan gives him extra pieces of meat and Joshua refills his water. Just to let Minghao know they’re willing to listen if he’s willing to tell.
So he does.
Their reply chain ended hours ago with a “I have to go meet a client. See you at my car later?~” and though not being able to message Junhui makes his day 80 times less fun, Minghao’s been pretty productive ever since.
During the first recess, he walks into the empty classrooms and checks how many colored pens, paper and tape are left and makes notes on what he should order more of. Then the children return with pink cheeks. They hang their coats in their designated spots, trade in their velcro sneakers for slippers, and sit back down at their little tables.
There are messages in the daycare group chat about wanting sandwiches for lunch and Minghao places an online order, sending the receipt in the chat along with payment request links.
He even sweeps the floors twice, and yet the hours pass slowly.
The last fifteen minutes of his shift are spent fiddling with his rings. Left, right, up, down, until one of them falls off his finger and rolls under his desk.
He didn't see where it went, so he spends a full five minutes on his hands and knees trying to find it until he gives up. He's sure he'll spot it when he vacuums the place tomorrow.
Minghao slings his bag over his shoulder, shuts the computer off and makes his way out.
Junhui's on the other end of the building waiting for Sunhee, but Minghao walks towards the parking lot and starts looking for the black Kia. Well, more specifically, for the number plate that ends with 48.
After a few minutes, he can spot Junhui walking towards him, holding Sunhee's hand. With the way she's animatedly moving her other one around, Minghao assumes she's telling a story.
Junhui smiles at Minghao. Sunhee wrinkles her nose.
“Oh, uncle,” she mumbles before she pulls on Junhui's sleeve. “Appa, we have to see Jooha.”
An odd feeling swirls in the pit of Minghao’s stomach.
Junhui pats her head. “We will.”
Minghao watches as Junhui opens the door and straps Sunhee into her booster seat. He tells her something Minghao can't hear before giving her his phone.
“Hi,” Junhui says, closing the door. “How are you?”
“Alright,” he breathes out. “I don't want to keep you if someone's waiting for you, though.”
Junhui shakes his head, amused. “One of the aunties on our floor got a cat. She's letting Sunhee play with her.”
Embarrassingly enough, Minghao’s stomach settles.
“She can play with her all evening so she’ll just have to wait a minute.”
Minghao looks at Sunhee through the window. “I’m sure she's currently entertained by all the secrets on your phone, yeah.”
“Joke's on you, every app is locked,” he grins. “She's watching some cat videos I saved.”
“Won't she go through the rest of your gallery then?”
“Can’t.” He winks. “Special dad-security function.”
“Ahh,” Minghao says. “Did you get that with the Dad Signal?”
“Two for one deal.”
Minghao laughs.
“Why?~” Junhui teases. “What kind of pictures do you think I have on my phone, Minghao?”
He flaps a hand to cover his burning cheeks. “Nothing, nevermind.”
Junhui carefully takes his hand away from his face. “What I do have on my phone, though,” he says, taking a step closer, “are tickets to the museum they recently opened downtown.”
Minghao's eyes grow big.
“Do you want to come with me? On Saturday?” Junhui sounds a little nervous, which tells Minghao that his crush on Junhui might not be as obvious as he thought it was. “Uh. Just the two of us, by the way. In case that wasn't clear.”
It’s so silly and endearing. Minghao’s smiling like an idiot. “Yeah. I'd love to.”
He’s panicking.
It's Friday night, he's got Mingyu on speaker, and he's panicking.
When he tells Mingyu that he likes Junhui, his friend doesn't bat an eye. That much he already knew.
When Minghao says that Junhui asked him out, though, Mingyu comes to life.
“Finally!”
Minghao paces around in his bedroom, bottom lip between his teeth.
“Don't tell me you said no…”
“No, I said yes.” He runs his hands through his hair. “I want to go, that's not the issue. It’s just— he has a kid.”
“Ah… This again.”
“Yes, this again,” Minghao snaps. “I don't want to be a father at twenty-three.”
“What about a step-father?”
“Mingyu, I'm being serious.”
“Right, sorry. Well, I doubt he asked you on a date because he's trying to recruit a second parent for his kid,” Mingyu reasons. “He likes you.”
Minghao swishes his mouth to the side, thinking.
“He can date you and be Sunhee's father at the same time, you know? But,” Mingyu says, “she will always be his first priority.”
“I don't have a problem with that. I get that,” Minghao insists. “I guess I'm just worried that— I mean, you know I get attached quickly. What if the dates go well and we get together and he starts properly adding Sunhee to the mix and sees how terrible I am with kids and breaks up with me?”
“Buddy, you're spiraling. I can guarantee you that he already knows you're not a big fan of children. It's written all over your face.”
Minghao supposes he has a point.
“Right below I Like Moon Junhwi.”
“Ha-ha,” he deadpans. “But I'm especially bad with his kid.”
Mingyu takes a second to reply. “I actually think that, out of all of us at work, you are the best at handling her.”
“... Funny.”
“I'm serious. She actually listens to you.”
“Hardly. She just makes fun of me.”
“Maybe that's how she shows affection.”
“Okay, enough about Moon Sunhee,” he dismisses quickly. “I just don't know what he expects of me.”
“You could always ask him.”
“If the date is really him recruiting a second parent for his kid?”
“Maybe not in those words… ”
“Those were your words.” He flops down on the bed, next to his phone. “I'm nervous.”
Mingyu sighs. “I know, but I think you should give it a shot. You're thinking too far ahead right now. Maybe the first date won't even pan out the way you want it to.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“What?”
“I think it'll go well.”
He hears an enthusiastic clap. “That's the spirit!”
“Eh? ... Oh, Jesus.”
Junhui likes physical touch just as much as he does, Minghao finds out.
When they leave the first room, its concept bright and colorful, Junhui's fingers keep bumping into Minghao's.
As they walk around the second room, the paintings and walls darker and more chaotic, Minghao notices that it's deliberate.
He curls his pinky around Junhui's.
Once they're in the fourth room, Minghao thinks he can safely say museums aren't really Junhui's thing. Regardless, Junhui encourages Minghao to walk up to each and every piece and he listens intently while Minghao explains what he likes about it and what he feels looking at it.
“I found your Instagram,” Junhui admits shyly when Minghao asks why he picked a museum as a first date. “I figured you would like it.”
Minghao bites back a smile.
“Your stuff’s really cool,” Junhui says, walking towards the next room. “When I look at these I don't really feel anything. Your art seems very… personal. I don’t know. It moved me.”
Minghao draws his pinky back to curl all of his fingers around Junhui's. “That means a lot.”
All of it, all of this.
Junhui smiles softly at him.
Minghao spends a few seconds just watching Junhui as he tells a story about taking Sunhee to a museum once. His mouth starts to curl up as Junhui really hits stride and the story takes, as expected with Sunhee, a turn for the absurd.
When they come across a painting that uses a technique Minghao is particularly intrigued by, he takes his phone out to take a photo. He takes a couple, and in the final two, Junhui photobombs with a peace sign and a corny finger heart.
At one point, Junhui starts leaning more into him to the point he puts his chin on Minghao's shoulder when Minghao reads the label of a really specific piece.
Then they walk around some more, slower and less focussed on the artworks, because Junhui starts telling more stories. Minghao occasionally and then more frequently interjects, and the conversation wanders off to other topics as time passes but never slows.
Eventually, Minghao can't concentrate anymore and starts fully matching the energy Junhui’s clearly been suppressing from the start.
They giggle and joke together as they move towards the last few rooms.
In the second to last one, full of interactive art, they can’t contain themselves anymore. It’s like they’re teenagers again, rowdy and mischievous, thinking about nothing but having fun and causing a little trouble.
Minghao has to actively muffle Junhui's laughter with a hand to avoid getting thrown out.
It doesn't work. They’re being escorted out.
The second the wind brushes against their cheeks, they fully burst into laughter— the loud and unattractive, curling into one another kind.
It takes them all the way to Minghao’s apartment building to calm down. Junhui turns the ignition off, cheeks pink from the laughter, and turns to look at Minghao.
Breathlessly, Minghao says, “I had a good time.”
“Before or after you got us thrown out?”
“Me!?” Minghao gawkes. “Do you have any idea how loud your laugh is?”
Junhui raises his hands. “Not everyone is blessed with a cute giggle.”
“Yeah, apparently the rest honks.”
“What!” Junhui laughs. “I don’t honk!”
“You do! You go all ha-ha-ha!”
“Whoa, you are terrible at impressions!” Junhui squeals. “Remember when you tried to imitate…” and then he starts rambling.
And all Minghao can do is smile helplessly as he goes on and does a horrible impression of Minghao’s impression, and Minghao eventually gives into the urge bubbling in his chest and reaches across the console to kiss him.
Junhui makes a soft little noise against his mouth— approval and maybe some relief too —and puts his hands under Minghao’s jaw to kiss him better, deeper.
They lose track of time like this until Junhui pulls away, eyes trailing down Minghao’s flushed face, the pink pout of his lips, and back up.
He presses his thumbs into Minghao’s cheeks, smiling.
“You know,” Minghao’s lips twitch up into a grin, “I don’t usually kiss on the first date.”
“You kissed me!”
He presses another kiss onto Junhui’s lips before he unbuckles his seatbelt. “Guess it means I like you.”
Junhui gasps dramatically in faux-offense. “You guess?”
Minghao shuts the passenger door with a wink.
When he gets inside his apartment, back pressed to the wall, he takes out his phone.
Thanks for today
You’re very welcome, Minghao ^^
(I hope this is you, at least)
It is
Good~
I’d love to do this again
How forward
Guess it means I like you
December is here, and two of the teachers are at home with a cold, which means Minghao has to go outside during recess again, probably also getting a cold.
“Explain to me,” he hisses, nose-deep into his scarf, “why recess is still outside in December?”
“It’s good to get them used to the cold early,” Mingyu says.
Seokmin nods. “Helps strengthen their immune system.”
The red noses and cheeks of the children may look cute to some, but Minghao will be the one receiving angry phone calls because their kid got sick. He’s not against giving out his colleagues’ personal phone numbers if any parent threatens him for having to stay home with their snotty kid. Seokmin and Mingyu can deal with that.
“Uncle.”
If only they could deal with Moon Sunhee too.
Like a stiff puppet, Minghao’s neck groans as he slowly lowers his head to look at her.
“Why are you outside?”
“Good question,” he mumbles. He hadn’t meant for her to catch it, but with the way she’s frowning at him, she must have. “Because two teachers are sick.” She opens her mouth like she wants to interrupt him with a question. “Before you ask, no, they are not dying.”
“I don’t want to ask that.” She juts out her bottom lip. “I’m cold.”
“Are you now?” Just as slowly, and with just as much groaning, Minghao turns his head towards his friends. He hopes her complaint will be enough to send them all back inside, but then she asks: “Can I have your gloves?”
He immediately wheels back around. “I’m sorry?”
She shows him her hands, pulled out of the tiny pocket of her bright yellow jacket. “My hands are cold.”
He takes one of his mittens off with his teeth. “I need them too. My fingers are so cold they’ve gone black. See?”
She giggles. “That’s nail paint, silly.”
Fine. That one’s on him, he should’ve known that wouldn’t work. He also should have remembered that she doesn’t take him seriously.
“You were wearing gloves when you came in today. What happened to those, Sunhee-yah?” Mingyu asks.
“Lost ‘em,” she mutters, looking at her feet. “Sorry.”
Minghao sighs. He squats, carefully reaching for Sunhee’s left hand to pull the mitten over it, which almost reaches her elbow. “Don’t lose these ones, Moon Sunhee,” he says before copying the same gesture on her right hand. “You can give them back when recess is over.”
She breaks out into a huge grin before she runs off to join her friends. “Thank you, uncle!”
“And don’t wipe your snot on them!”
When he straightens back up, both Seokmin and Mingyu’s jaws are on the floor.
“Not a word.”
But Mingyu can’t help it. “Wow,” he says, adding an unnecessary whistle. “Dad dick changed you.”
Seokmin’s eyes damn near bug out of his skull. “You slept with Sunhee’s dad!?”
“No!”
“Yet,” Mingyu snickers.
When the bell rings and the kids gather around their teachers, Sunhee runs out of the queue and towards Minghao.
“Thank you, uncle!” She can't seem to take them off herself and just holds out her arms waiting for Minghao to help her.
They still seem to be in the same condition. No snot or anything.
So for a second, just a second, Minghao thinks she might not be half bad. That this might mean they’re bonding.
But he immediately takes all of that back when she starts coughing. Into the mitten.
“Moon Sunhee!”
She must be feeling a little guilty for spreading her bacteria all over Minghao’s gloves, because she doesn’t immediately complain when she spots Minghao later that day. She gives Minghao and her father ten minutes to talk before she starts whining from the car seat Junhui put her in.
“I’ll be right there, baby,” Junhui tells her, but she clearly remembers the last time Junhui told her they’d leave soon.
And that's when Minghao feels a little guilty, because she starts crying. Big crocodile tears fall down her cheeks and Junhui gives Minghao an apologetic look before he gets into the car and drives them home.
The following day, her mood immediately sours when she’s carried to the car and Minghao is already there waiting for Junhui.
“Uncle, why are you here?” she immediately asks him, hanging on tightly to her father’s coat so he won’t put her in the car seat.
“To talk to your father,” Minghao says dryly.
“You did that yesterday.”
Junhui laughs. “You also talked to me yesterday, Shanji. And you wanted to talk to me today too, right?”
She just puts her head in his neck. “Bàba,” she complains, dragging out the vowels.
“Hi, Minghao,” Junhui chuckles. “You look—”
“Bàba.”
He shushes her, softly rocking her in his arms.
Minghao tries to ignore her by focusing on how nice Junhui’s legs look in these pants instead. “How was your day? I see no one spilled anything on you this time.”
“The day’s not over yet, let’s not jinx it,” Junhui teases. “Anything happen over here?”
“Oh, you know, same old same old. Wiped vomit off the walls.”
He snorts. “Fun.”
“A total riot.”
Then Sunhee starts crying. Minghao already knows what that means.
The day after, she picks a different approach. She points an accusing finger at Minghao and loudly claims, “Bàba, this uncle is bad.”
Junhui blinks. Minghao blinks. “What?” they say in unison.
“He lied,” Sunhee says matter-of-factly. “You said it’s bad to lie.”
Junhui glances at Minghao for some kind of explanation, but Minghao can only shake his head in confusion.
“He’s trying to trick me! He says he’s younger than you but I know that he’s not younger. He looks so old!”
That only makes Junhui and Minghao laugh.
On Thursday, Sunhee realizes that this meeting-at-the-car thing has become a routine, because as soon as she sees Minghao leaning against the car, she starts crying.
She knows that her tears mean leaving.
“Shanji,” Junhui sighs, probably really in tune with her real and fake meltdowns. “We’ll go in two minutes.”
And Minghao really doesn’t get why she’s acting like this, because during the day, Sunhee uses every excuse possible to waltz into the reception. (“I had to pee”, “I need a bandaid”, “I got jam on my shirt”). She’ll stand there and tell stories in ‘Bàba language’— “Uncle, I played with Jooha this weekend. She’s a black cat but she has a white spot on her nose and she’s very cute and small. I held her and she fell asleep!” —until Minghao drags her back to Mingyu’s room.
So she clearly likes him, or just likes the fact he understands her in both languages she knows, but whenever Junhui’s around she acts like she hates his guts. Minghao doesn’t get it.
He understands it even less when, on Friday, she pops up into his reception again.
“Uncle!” she screeches excitedly. She flashes him a smile that’s all teeth, but one is missing. “Look!”
“Wow,” he says with a nod. “Congratulations, Sunhee.”
She reaches into her pocket and takes out a 500 won coin. “The Tooth Fairy came!”
“Very cool.”
She hums in agreement. “An evil fairy wanted to take my tooth so I was scared but when I woke up there was money so the Tooth Fairy got it first!”
Minghao eyebrows furry. “An evil fairy..?”
“The evil fairy wants teeth to do bad things, but the Tooth Fairy wants them for good things.”
“Sorry, who told you this?”
“Youngjae. He’s in my class.”
Minghao sighs. He’ll have to discuss this with Mingyu later, but for now, he tells Sunhee: “What he said is not true. There are no evil fairies. There is only the Tooth Fairy—”
“What about Tinkerbell?”
Don’t roll your eyes, don’t roll your eyes. “Right, the Tooth Fairy and Tinkerbell. There are only good fairies. No evil fairies.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he confirms. “So no need to be scared of evil fairies when you lose your next tooth.” He gets out of his chair. “Let’s go back to Mingyu-ssaem now.”
When Minghao parks his car, he checks the mirror. He’s feeling confident; his hair is still styled from his visit to the salon yesterday and he’s wearing a cool outfit. There’s even a pep to his step, because Saturdays are for spending time with Junhui uninterrupted.
At least, that’s what Minghao thought.
When Junhui opens the door, Sunhee is attached to his leg.
It deflates Minghao’s excitement like a pricked balloon, and Junhui regretfully catches the way Minghao’s shoulders sag a little.
“Soonyoung’s sick,” he tells Minghao quietly as Sunhee throws herself as Bookkkeu. He sounds just as disappointed as Minghao feels.
Minghao shakes his head. “No, it’s—” he wants to say fine, because he needs to say fine. Sunhee is part of Junhui’s life, the biggest part of his life, so this is how things are and how they’ll always be. There is no universe where Minghao will have Junhui to himself, and he’ll need to try and accept that if he wants to date Junhui.
“Uh. I’ll just— enjoy your weekend,” Minghao says as he wheels around.
“No, wait!” Junhui says. “We can still come with you.”
It’s better than nothing.
So while Minghao holds Bookkeu walking down the stairs, Junhui has Sunhee on his neck.
They don’t really say much on their way to the dog park, mostly because there is no way they could talk over Sunhee’s loud giggles, but also because Minghao feels a little awkward saying things to Junhui that Sunhee can hear.
He wouldn’t even be saying anything weird or indecent or whatever, but it just feels strange.
Junhui seems to agree, because as soon as Minghao takes Bookkeu’s leash off and Sunhee runs after him, Junhui leans towards Minghao. “You look really handsome.”
There’s a flutter in his gut. “Thanks. So do you.” Maybe he has a thing for Junhui in comfortable clothes more than he does the suits. “Was about time I got my roots done.”
“It looks good,” he says. “Pretty.”
“I should have chosen a different color. Sunhee thinks we’re in an age gap relationship.”
Minghao realizes what he’s said after he’s already said it, and Junhui tilts his head with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Relationship?”
He flushes violently. “You know what I mean.”
Junhui just grins, fanning his fingers through Minghao’s bangs. “You should keep it. I like it.”
“Even if it makes me over 200 years older than you?”
“Even then,” he laughs before Sunhee throws herself around her father’s leg. It punches a soft oof sound out of him.
“Can I give Bookkeu a treat? You brought treats, right, uncle? He loves treats.” She holds out her hands in front of him, bouncing on her feet.
Junhui pats her head. “Why don’t you try calling him gege, Shanji?”
“Uncle,” she says, completely ignoring her father, “can I get some treats, please?”
Minghao levels her with a mildly stern look before dropping a few treats in her palm. “Don’t give them out all at once. And ask him to sit first.”
“He doesn’t want to sit, he’s too excited.”
“You still have to ask him to sit.”
“I’ll try!”
When he looks back at Junhui, he’s already watching Minghao.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Junhui smiles. “Guess I’m happy to see you.”
Minghao gasps, mimicking the way Junhui did it a week ago. “You guess?”
Junhui bumps his shoulder softly into Minghao’s.
“Me too,” he says softly. “I miss having you at my desk, you know.”
“Yeah,” Junhui agrees. “Who would have thought you’d ever think that?”
“Not me. You were annoying the shit out of me at first.”
“Sorry,” Junhui says, sounding very much not sorry at all. “I used every excuse I could think of to come see you. Which…” he gives Minghao a knowing look, “you also started doing once I stopped coming.”
Minghao turns his nose up. “At least mine made sense. ‘Couldn’t find the email address’, seriously?”
“You asked me if I filled in her birthday correctly, Minghao.”
“I’ve seen it happen before,” he defends. “And let’s not forget that even Sunhee knows that your friend Soonyoung doesn’t pick up the phone, and you still made me add his number to her file.”
Junhui has the sense to at least look a little embarrassed about that. “Yeah, not my best idea.”
“Did you get into trouble at work for leaving a little early?”
Junhui shrugs. “I mean, they weren’t stoked about it, but I kind of didn’t care.”
“How rebellious.”
“What can I say,” Junhui says, “I have a thing for 300-year-olds.”
Minghao huffs out a laugh and shoves Junhui away from him.
Then Junhui just takes off, towards his daughter who he swoops off the ground. She screeches happily as Junhui plays with her and Bookkeu, running around the park with the two of them chasing Junhui, and Minghao can’t name what he’s feeling as he watches them.
But then Junhui hides behind Minghao, and a giggling Sunhee runs towards them with Bookkeu in tow.
“You’re it!” she says when she smacks Junhui’s leg.
“Gosh, Sunhee, I’m all out,” Junhui groans in faux-exhaustion.
She pouts.
Junhui shakes his head, unfazed. “Time to go home, baby. You can give Bookkeu one last treat before he has to go back on his leash.”
Sunhee pulls one from her pocket, tells Bookkeu to sit like Minghao told her to, and opens her hand for the dog to take it.
The walk back to Junhui’s building is quieter. Sunhee initially said she was fine walking, but pretty quickly asked Junhui to carry her, and starts talking about her week.
When she mentions the evil fairy and Youngjae the liar, Junhui looks a little angry.
“My baby,” Junhui pouts, drawing Sunhee to his chest. “Is that why you came to me that night?”
She nods. “But uncle told me there are no evil fairies and then my teacher got mad at Youngjae.”
Minghao didn’t expect her to say that, and the surprise makes his cheeks burn.
“Uncle said there’s only good fairies, like the Tooth Fairy and Tinkerbell.”
“That’s right, sweetheart,” Junhui says, giving Minghao a look that makes him melt into a puddle a little bit.
They plan another date for the upcoming Saturday, and Minghao looks forward to it all week until Junhui calls him on Thursday to say Soonyoung passed his stomach bug to his girlfriend and they can’t babysit her.
It’s neither Soonyoung’s or his girlfriend’s fault, but it does ruin the rest of Minghao’s day. It also doesn’t help that Sunhee gives him and Junhui thirty seconds to talk before she throws a temper tantrum. So maybe Minghao spends all of Friday also being grumpy.
But, waking up Saturday morning, Minghao decides to just be glad he’s getting a chance to see Junhui at all.
So they do a repeat of last week. Junhui and Sunhee join him as he walks Bookkeu.
It goes much the same, Sunhee runs around the dog park with Bookkeu while Junhui and Minghao stick close together, talking quietly.
Junhui has a habit of making sweet comments about Minghao, but when Minghao gives him even a semblance of a compliment in return, Junhui gets all squeal-y and shy.
Minghao takes full advantage.
They kinda lose track of time a little, what with Sunhee being distracted and Junhui making Minghao’s head all fuzzy (hearing his name fall from Junhui’s lips is like a shot of dopamine), so they end up spending longer at the park than Minghao normally would.
They return to the building and walk up the stairs together, but before they can go their separate ways again, Junhui hangs around his door.
Minghao picks up on it. “Don’t tell me you lost your keys in the dog park,” he teases.
“No,” Junhui snorts. He looks a little nervous. “I just… I was wondering if you maybe wanted to eat with us?”
Minghao’s breath hitches a little, gobsmacked.
He doesn't know if Junhui means this as a big step, but it feels like a big step. They haven’t even defined what they are and Junhui’s inviting him to a sit down dinner with his daughter.
A big fat FAMILY DINNER sign flashes in front of Minghao’s eyes with a million alarm bells ringing.
But maybe he and Junhui aren’t actually moving too fast. It’s not like Junhui’s introducing Minghao to his daughter way too early and making things all weird, because Minghao knew Sunhee before he knew Junhui.
If anything, Sunhee threw her father into her and Minghao’s mix.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Junhui rushes to add. “But we had to cancel our date and we spent longer than usual at the dog park and it’s around dinner time now so I thought—”
“Okay,” Minghao says, still a little breathless.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
Junhui smiles, clearly relieved.
After feeding Bookkeu and locking up Seungkwan’s apartment, Minghao follows Junhui and Sunhee into theirs.
“Why don’t you go play in your room until dinner’s ready, hmm?” Junhui suggests, and she doesn’t need to be told twice. She disappears into the closest room on the right, but leaves the door slightly open like Junhui asked her to.
He dumps his forehead onto Minghao’s shoulder.
Minghao can vaguely hear Sunhee making her dolls talk to each other, so while she’s busy doing her own thing, he takes the liberty of running his fingers through Junhui’s hair.
Junhui makes a pleased noise before pressing his cold nose into Minghao’s neck. “You smell good.”
“Jasmine again?”
“As always.”
“Guess the redbulls I’ve been drinking aren’t doing their job properly,” he jokes.
“So no wings yet?”
“No, they’re starting to grow in. I’ll be able to sell my car soon.”
Junhui chuckles, and his lips graze Minghao’s skin.
Minghao reflexively throws his head back a little, forgetting all about Sunhee in the next room, and Junhui seems to take pity on him a little bit, because he puts his mouth on Minghao’s throat for a firm kiss before he lets go of Minghao completely.
From then, it doesn’t take long before there’s three hot plates of food on the table, and Minghao is embarrassed to admit that he wasn’t focused on what Junhui was cooking at all. Because before Junhui put the stove on, he took off his sweater and put an apron over his t-shirt.
Minghao kind of stopped thinking entirely after that, focused on Junhui’s arms and the burr of his voice as he told a story about his time as a kid.
Turns out Junhui made chicken stir fry, which Minghao likes, so it would have been fine, if it wasn’t really fucking spicy.
The food on Sunhee’s smaller plate looks identical to that on Minghao’s, and he’s only a little bitter that this five-year-old has a higher spice tolerance than him.
But Minghao keeps eating it anyway, because Junhui made it for him and Minghao wants to prove that even though he’s a picky eater, he can push through. Junhui already has one child to deal with.
But there’s no way to hide his struggle, because Sunhee points out: “Why are you red?”
Junhui looks up, and based on the way his eyes grow big, realizes he forgot to hold back on the spice. Sunhee clearly likes spicy food as much as Junhui told Minghao he does, and he must be used to cooking everything at this kind of heat for the two of them.
“It’s fine,” Minghao croaks, trying to keep from coughing.
“Are you sure?” Junhui asks worriedly. “I’m so sorry, I should have asked if you like spicy food.”
“It’s fine, seriously, it’s okay.”
But Sunhee unhelpfully chimes in saying, “Uncle looks like he’s about to explode.”
Junhui agrees. “Really, Minghao, I can make you something else—”
“If you get up from that chair, I’m leaving.”
So Junhui stays put, for like three more seconds, before he gets up to grab a small bottle of strawberry milk out of the fridge.
When Minghao glances at Sunhee while he takes a desperate gulp, she looks extremely smug about the whole thing.
At least Junhui soothes Minghao’s embarrassment with a long good-bye kiss at the end of the night.
On Monday, when Minghao finally gets a chance to talk to Mingyu, his friend is already smirking at him.
“What?” Minghao demands skeptically.
“Oh, you know, just a little girl going ‘round telling stories about Myungho-ssi eating at her house.”
He blanches. “How— how bad is it? What are the other kids saying?”
“Honestly? They’re jealous. Maybe you can woo their dads too?”
Minghao smacks him. Mingyu barks out a laugh.
“I’m just kidding, she mentioned it when I asked how her weekend was. Told her to keep it a secret between her and me just in case,” Mingyu reassures him. “But also… wow, dude.”
“I know,” Minghao groans, putting his head into his hands. “We were supposed to go to a restaurant but Sunhee’s babysitter got sick.”
“So he made food for you instead?”
There’s a flush high on his cheeks. “I… yeah.”
Mingyu whistles one long note as he processes.
“What?”
“It’s kind of romantic in its own way. Very gentleman-y.”
“So you don’t think it was too soon?”
Mingyu seems to way that over. “Maybe? I don’t know. Your situation is kind of unusual anyway.”
“Because I knew Sunhee first?”
“Yeah.”
Minghao nods slowly, biting his lip. “That’s what I was thinking, yeah.”
“It’s difficult to judge because this whole thing is delicate,” Mingyu says. “I mean, Sunhee isn’t obsessed with you because her father likes you. She likes the fact she can speak Mandarin to you, which she can do whether or not you’re dating her father.”
“Right…” he says nervously.
“But I don’t think you really want her to get used to you being in their apartment yet,” Mingyu continues gently. “Because if something happens and you stop seeing Junhwi-ssi, then that might be hard for her.”
“Right,” Minghao says again. “So would you suggest I stop meeting Junhui at his car then?”
“Didn’t you say Sunhee hates it when you do that anyway?”
“Well it can’t be all about Sunhee,” he says, too fast.
Mingyu grimaces in sympathy. “It kinda is, Myungho… Unfortunately.”
He scrubs a hand over his face. “Yeah, no, you’re right, sorry. It’s just— it’s kind of a lot.”
“I know,” Mingyu sighs softly. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I think it’s probably best if you only see Junhui by himself for a little bit. Just so Sunhee doesn’t get used to you being around her father all the time so early in your relationship. You know, when stuff’s still fragile.”
Minghao sighs, dropping his head onto his desk with a thunk.
Mingyu pats his hair. “You got this.”
Relaying that message to Junhui— the “we should stop meeting at your car and only see each other when Sunhee’s not there” arrangement —weighs heavy on Minghao’s shoulders. It weighs even heavier on his tongue, but he manages to get it out eventually over the phone that evening.
Thankfully, Junhui was thinking the same thing.
So they change things up, and even though they only see each other three times over the span of fourteen days, they’re all finally real dates that stretch for hours.
It also means that the texting increases tenfold. At one point, he laughs so hard at a text that Mingyu can hear it from his classroom.
Today, though, Minghao panics as soon as Seokmin leaves the reception.
So…
Remember that Christmas thing I asked you
to help out with?
The one you made up, you mean?
Ha-ha
Yes that one
It’s not so made up anymore
One of my colleagues saw the fake sign up sheet
and is making it happen
Look at you, party starter
I’ve forcefully become the head of
the decoration committee
Members: 1
Who’s that lucky person?
You of course
Eh?
You signed the form!
The form was fake!
Well I did tell you not to sign recklessly…
I must have gotten lost in your eyes
It was an email
You’re helping out
Minghao opens the daycare door for a hoodie-and-jeans wearing Junhui. It’s seven in the evening, and an actual babysitter watches Sunhee while Junhui and Minghao cut paper and stick it to the walls.
They’re sitting in Sunhee’s empty classroom, on the floor, and Minghao is way better at this than Junhui.
“What is that!” he demands, laughing.
“A Christmas tree!”
“When have they ever looked like that?” Minghao tuts, shaking his head. “You’re gonna have to sign your name on that. I don’t want anyone to think I made that one.”
Junhui huffs dramatically, muttering, “Forgot I’m working with Mondriaan over here.”
He rolls over in a fit of giggles.
“Hey! I didn’t come all the way here to be insulted!” Junhui laughs. “I’m doing my best here.”
“Yes you are,” Minghao agrees in mock-sympathy. “Here’s an idea. You cut rectangles and I cut everything else.”
He gives Minghao a blank look, but doesn’t actually argue against it.
They start sitting against the wall at some point (because “My back is killing me”, “You’re 23, Minghao”) and sit side by side, touching from ankle to thigh.
“So,” Junhui says eventually, “Shanji came home with braids today.”
Minghao hums, feigning ignorance. She came running into the reception with her hair down crying that her favorite hair tie broke and Minghao just happened to have some spare ones lying around. No big deal.
“They were well done too.”
“I bet they were.”
Junhui nudges Minghao’s shoulder with his own. “Thanks for that.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Minghao dismisses, but the praise makes his ears go pink. “Focus on the fireplace you’re making.”
“So I’m not allowed to do this?” he asks, leaning over to press a kiss to Minghao’s temple.
“Definitely not,” is what he says while dropping a kiss on Junhui’s mouth.
Junhui chases after it, but Minghao puts a hand over his face and pushes it away.
It’d just be so hard not to kiss him if Minghao has to keep looking at it.
He puts on a stern voice. “We have to get this done.”
“You maybe. I was forced into this.”
“A signature is a signature,” Minghao sniffs.
“Hmm I don’t know, Minghao, I think I’ll win the lawsuit.”
He dumps the glue in Junhui’s lap. “No time for that.”
Junhui laughs, kissing Minghao again before he uncaps the glue.
They work together in silence, but anytime Junhui’s doing something that he can do with one hand, he puts the other one on Minghao’s leg.
His heart thrums happily in his chest.
The kids love the decorations when their parents drop them off the following day, and they make paper ornaments to glue onto the barren tree Minghao cut out. Even Junhui’s misshapen one gets a lot of love.
Sunhee walks into the reception halfway through the day, bragging that her father made and put up the decorations. “They look really good.”
They don’t. Minghao made Junhui sign the extra bad ones twice.
“I’m glad you like them,” he says neutrally, crunching on his cherry tomatoes.
Her beady little eyes are fixated on the Starry Night-themed container they’re in, and Minghao already knows where this is going.
“No, Sunhee.”
She tilts her head, blinking innocently. “What?”
“You can’t have one.”
“Uncle, why not?”
He turns his nose up. “Because they’re mine.”
So it comes to no surprise to him that, as he starts wheeling his cart down the aisles that evening, he finds Sunhee holding the last cherry tomatoes on the shelf.
“Oh!” she chirps. “Hello, uncle.”
Before Minghao can even open his mouth, someone’s cart crashes into his. He’s about to glare a hole into the head of whatever imbecile doesn’t know how to use a grocery cart when— oh. It’s his imbecile.
“Oops,” Junhui says, but his grin betrays that this was not an accident. “Sorry ‘bout that.”
Minghao vaguely wants to bash his head into the nearest shelf.
Not only because he’s having a pathetic feud with a five-year-old over cherry tomatoes, but because he’s wearing last night’s sweatpants and his I-hope-I-don’t-run-into-anyone coat. It’s ugly and worn and dirty, but it’s served him well when it’s as cold as it is. He also hasn’t done his hair. Fuck.
Junhui, of course, looks as handsome as ever.
“Appa,” Sunhee says, holding out the transparent container. “I want this.”
Junhui gives her a dubious look. “I thought you didn’t like tomatoes?”
“No, I like them,” she says firmly, and grins at Minghao when Junhui drops them into their cart.
Minghao thrusts his tongue into his cheek, rolling his eyes.
“I hope that’s not all you’re eating this week,” Junhui chuckles, jutting his chin at the snacks Minghao accumulated.
“You think I can live on fruit roll-ups and granola bars?”
He shrugs coyly. “I don’t judge.”
Minghao huffs out a laugh. “They’re for the plane.”
He told Junhui about his trip during their third date, when Junhui took him out to a restaurant Minghao likes. The food was good, it always is, but the best part of the night was undoubtedly the impromptu make-out session in Junhui’s car.
Minghao’s pretty sure Junhui was gonna give him a handjob in the backseat, and he would have enthusiastically returned the favor if it wasn’t for the restaurant owner carrying a trash bag into the alley they were parked in.
“Plane?” Sunhee pipes up suddenly.
“Hm? Oh. Uh, yeah,” Minghao flounders. “I’m visiting my parents for Christmas.”
“Where?”
“In Haicheng.”
“Where’s that?”
Junhui puts a hand on her head. “In China, baby. Sunhee-yah, why don’t you grab the carrots Appa likes?”
As she happily skips to the end of the aisle, Junhui carefully pulls Minghao into his arms. Then he has the nerve to tell Minghao he looks good.
“... You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“What?” Junhui chuckles, trying to flatten Minghao’s hair. “You make I-just-rolled-out-of-bed look sexy.”
That startles a snort out of Minghao, and he pushes Junhui away in mock-offense.
Junhui laughs, and he gets right back into Minghao’s space, this time to give him a quick kiss. “Have a safe flight, Hao. Text me when you land.”
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