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Sleep had become a rare luxury in the Seo household.
Not gone—just redefined. It didn’t arrive in the form of deep, uninterrupted slumber anymore, but rather in broken fragments: short-lived dozes on the couch, thirty-minute naps stolen between feeding schedules, the occasional miracle stretch of two full hours when the universe aligned just right. Rest had become a scavenged thing, caught in whispers and shadows and the hush of soft lullabies echoing through the baby monitor.
Tonight was no different.
Outside, the city was fast asleep under the velvet hush of 3AM. But inside, beneath the soft golden lamplight and the thrum of exhaustion woven into the seams of their sheets, Hyunjin and Changbin lay tangled together, tucked close in the kind of closeness born from both intimacy and survival.
Hyunjin had crashed the moment his cheek met the pillow, his body surrendering entirely after a relentless week of chasing deadlines, sketching drafts, and painting for hours until his spine ached. His hair was still slightly damp from his rushed post-midnight shower, sticking to his temple in messy wisps. Changbin had barely managed to reach over and flick the lamp off, his eyes already stinging, but he lingered long enough to press a kiss to Hyunjin’s forehead.
A simple gesture. Soft. Familiar. We’re okay. You can rest.
The baby monitor sat on the nightstand beside them, its blue light a quiet sentinel. It hummed softly—static, safety, routine. Then:
A sharp wail sliced through the stillness, sudden and urgent.
Changbin groaned, the sound crawling down his throat like gravel. His body felt like it weighed double, like gravity was crueler at this hour. Every muscle screamed for mercy. But beside him, Hyunjin stirred, instinctively reacting to the sound with a soft, muffled inhale, already shifting to sit up.
Changbin moved quickly—at least, as quickly as he could in this state. He reached out, placing a firm but gentle hand on Hyunjin’s arm, smoothing his thumb over bare skin.
“Hey,” he rasped, voice still thick with sleep. “I got it.”
Hyunjin mumbled something that may have been "you sure?" or possibly "kill me," before slumping back into the pillow, completely undone by exhaustion.
“You’ve been up all week,” Changbin murmured, kissing his temple again. “Sleep, love. Just for a bit.”
And Hyunjin, trusting and spent, sank back into the mattress without another word.
Changbin exhaled slowly, steeling himself, and dragged his aching body upright, every movement made heavier by love and lack of sleep.
Parenthood wasn’t glamorous.
But damn, it was worth everything.
The nursery was bathed in soft blue light, the kind that tried its best to comfort but mostly just reminded you it was still night. The curtains were drawn, and the walls—dotted with tiny animal decals and a mobile shaped like clouds—felt closer somehow in the quiet. It was the hour when time felt slow and heavy, and the only sound that filled the room was the distressed, rhythmic wailing of one very awake baby.
Jongsoo was red-faced and flailing in his crib, tiny limbs punching the air like the world had wronged him personally. His cheeks were damp with tears, eyebrows scrunched into a perfect storm of infant betrayal.
“Oh buddy,” Changbin whispered, voice rough but tender, as he stepped carefully over the scattered army of plushies and teething rings littered across the rug. “What is it, huh? What’s got you so worked up at this hour?”
He reached into the crib and scooped Jongsoo up with the practiced ease of someone who had done this enough times to stop worrying about “how” and start worrying about “how fast.” His arms moved automatically—cradle under the neck, one hand steady under the diaper, a gentle rock already starting as he lifted the baby to his chest.
“Did you have a bad dream?” he asked softly, brushing his nose against Jongsoo’s temple. “Did Appa snore too loud again?”
Jongsoo didn’t answer, of course. But the moment his face made contact with the cotton of Changbin’s sleep shirt, his cries faltered into hiccups. He turned his face into the crook of his father’s shoulder and let out a pitiful, muffled sniffle—his way of surrendering to comfort.
Changbin sighed, wrapping both arms around him more securely. Even now, even in the bone-deep tiredness, even with a crick already forming in his neck—he could feel his heart soften.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered.
He did the usual mental checklist, even as he began to sway gently from foot to foot, instinct leading the movement.
Diaper? Not sagging. Not warm. No smell. Probably not the issue.
He ran a hand up and down Jongsoo’s back, listening for that magic breathing rhythm—the one that meant the storm had passed—but the baby was still fussing, squirming in little waves, his lips forming the start of another complaint.
“Okay,” Changbin sighed, glancing at the soft-glow digital clock on the wall. “Milk it is.”
Because in the end, there were only three possible culprits in baby logic: diapers, dreams, or dinner.
The bottle was warm.
The nursery chair creaked beneath them like a tired old friend, as Changbin settled in with the kind of slow, practiced grace only exhaustion could teach. Jongsoo was nestled against his chest, eyelids fluttering, body heavy with sleep as his cries gradually melted into tiny hiccups and sighs. Then, finally, soft, contented sucking sounds as he latched onto the bottle like it was the only salvation he knew.
Changbin leaned his head back against the cushion, staring up at the ceiling with glazed, burning eyes. His arms ached. His shoulders were stiff. He couldn’t feel one of his feet anymore. But still, he smiled. Just a little.
There was something so disarming—so shatteringly pure—about holding a baby that trusted you this much. Who didn’t know how to say it, but who still told you in the way he curled against your heart, in the way he relaxed once he was close to you, in the way his entire world calmed down once you said, I’m here.
Changbin looked down at the soft weight on his chest. A tiny human with impossibly long lashes and a death grip on the front of his shirt. Completely unaware that he’d already won every battle just by existing.
“My entire heart is six pounds and breathes through its nose,” he whispered.
The room remained still, blue light casting gentle halos across the crib and the soft rug. He waited. He had done this enough times to know the signs. That telltale slackening of limbs. The tiny twitch of a foot. The final sigh—the one that said okay, I’m safe now.
Changbin slowly, so slowly, stood.
One step toward the crib. Every joint in his body screaming in protest. Every muscle moving in absolute silence.
He bent forward, lowered—
Almost—
Set down.
And—
Like a curse had been activated, Jongsoo’s eyes snapped open and he let out a wail that sounded like it had been ripped straight from the pit of his very soul.
It was the cry of betrayal. The cry of a boy who’d been wronged by fate. The kind of cry that made grown men rethink their entire lives.
“God, no,” Changbin groaned, catching him again with a panicked scoop.
The moment their bodies touched, Jongsoo immediately stopped. Went limp. Snuggled in.
Like nothing had ever happened.
Changbin stared at the ceiling again. “You have a sensor,” he whispered darkly. “You can feel me trying to escape.”
He tried again.
Same result.
He bounced lightly, hummed nonsense lullabies, did the quiet-parent-pleading shuffle, and every time, the second Jongsoo was horizontal in the crib, the betrayal cry reemerged at full volume.
Changbin leaned on the crib rail and stared at his child with the hollow eyes of a man defeated.
“Okay,” he muttered. “Cool. You win.”
There was no logic left in him. No dignity. No shame. Just the simple, stupid, survival instinct of a parent who had reached the end of his rope and still had ten more hours until sunrise.
So he climbed into the crib.
It was not graceful.
There were grunts. A knee cracked. A pillow was briefly involved as an accidental projectile. But eventually, he managed to worm his way into the mattress, flattening out like a stuffed bear with back problems, Jongsoo now happily curled on top of him like a loaf of warm bread.
Changbin lay there, panting. “Fine. Fine. This is fine.”
It was a tight fit. His biceps didn’t belong here. His thighs definitely didn’t. His dignity was somewhere on the floor.
But Jongsoo?
Jongsoo was out cold. One hand fisted in his collar, the other sprawled across his chest like he owned him. His tiny chest rose and fell against Changbin’s ribs. His whole body radiated smug victory.
Sleep—merciful, blessed sleep—finally began to inch its way back into the corners of Changbin’s mind.
He closed his eyes.
Let out a breath.
Finally.
Except…
He couldn’t move.
Not even a little.
He tried adjusting his arm to reduce the pins and needles. Jongsoo stirred immediately. He froze.
He tried to stretch his neck.
Jongsoo groaned in protest, shifting just enough to trap him further.
He tried to shimmy one single centimeter toward the edge—
And Jongsoo latched. Like a determined, tiny koala with separation anxiety and a sixth sense for betrayal.
“Oh, come on,” Changbin whispered. “Please. I’m sore in places I didn’t even know I had. My spine is screaming.”
Jongsoo snorted in his sleep. A literal smug noise. Then settled deeper into his dad’s chest. Changbin stared up at the ceiling, utterly defeated.
“I live here now,” he whispered. “Tell Appa I love him.”
When morning came, in the master bedroom, Hyunjin woke to an unusually quiet bed.
The absence of a warm body beside him registered first. No steady breathing. No unconscious mid-sleep cuddling. No gentle thump of a muscle twitch from exhaustion.
Just… silence.
He blinked blearily at the empty space next to him and reached out instinctively, palm meeting nothing but rumpled sheets. A frown pulled at his lips. His sleep-fogged brain cycled through possibilities: Bathroom? Kitchen? Murdered by a stray Lego on the floor?
He turned to the baby monitor, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
And froze.
The screen, grainy and blue-hued, showed a scene so absurd it took his brain several seconds to process it:
Changbin. In the crib.
Fully grown, broad-shouldered, limbs folded awkwardly like a stuffed bear shoved into a shoebox. One leg was hanging off the side like he’d given up halfway through existing. His arms were behind his head like he had accepted death—or perhaps fatherhood—as his final form.
A literal exiled teddy bear.
Snoring.
Inside a crib.
Hyunjin’s jaw dropped.
Then he howled.
He actually fell off the bed. Rolled clean off the side, tangled in the sheets, laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. His whole chest ached. He had to clutch his stomach as he wheezed, tears brimming in his eyes.
It took him a full two minutes to function again.
When he could finally see straight, he scrambled for his phone with the urgency of a man capturing historical footage. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.”
He pulled up the nursery CCTV feed, went back 30 minutes, and hit record.
“I’m gonna show this at your retirement party,” he cackled under his breath, wiping his eyes. “I’m gonna frame this. I’m gonna screen it at Jongsoo’s wedding.”
He padded down the hallway, trying and failing to hold in his giggles. Every time the mental image resurfaced—Changbin folded into the crib like a giant burrito of desperation—he snorted louder.
He cracked open the nursery door.
And immediately lost it again.
There they were: father and son, passed out in the world’s tightest embrace. One leg of Changbin’s was still dangling uselessly off the rail, his head tilted to the side in total surrender. Jongsoo, meanwhile, was starfished across his dad’s chest, mouth open, drool glistening, looking smug even in sleep.
Hyunjin slapped a hand to his chest. “I’m gonna die,” he whispered.
He tiptoed closer, took a photo. Then another. Then zoomed in. Then turned on Live Mode. Then took a panorama for safety. He was not taking chances.
And then—he snorted. A loud one.
Jongsoo stirred first, blinking up at him with bleary eyes and a gummy smile. His arms lifted toward his Appa like he’d been summoned by pure serotonin.
Hyunjin melted into a puddle of goo. “Good morning, you little gremlin,” he cooed.
He scooped the baby up, cradled him close, and immediately smothered his belly in loud, obnoxious raspberries. Jongsoo shrieked with laughter, kicking his little legs as Hyunjin asked between kisses, “Now what did you make your poor Dada do this time, hmm? Why is he an Ikea-sized tragic dad burrito?”
From inside the crib, Changbin groaned. “Don’t laugh.”
“I’m absolutely laughing.”
“I was desperate.”
“You’re in a crib, Bin.”
“We slept,” Changbin insisted. “I made peace with God in there.”
Hyunjin had tears in his eyes again from giggling. He leaned down and kissed his husband’s forehead. “I love you. And I am never letting you live this down.”
Changbin cracked one eye open. “Please help me get out.”
“In a minute. I need to post this in the group chat first.”
“Hyunjin—”
Click.
Too late.
[Chaos Central – New Message]
📸 Image Attached
Caption: “Caught our house bear in the wild. Sleep: 1, Dada: 0.”
Jeongin: I’M CRYING
Jisung: WHY IS HE IN THERE??
Felix: cutest inmate ever omg
Minho: call CPS
Chan: mood honestly
Seungmin: i’m framing this
Jeongin: I zoomed in. His face. He looks like a man who has given up.
Jisung: he’s literally doing the “it is what it is” meme pose 😭
Felix: hyunjin you better NEVER delete that footage
Minho: don’t just call cps—send the swat team
Chan: this is parenting excellence. textbook. should be taught in med school
Seungmin: i’m printing it for the fridge. like art.
Jisung: “dad jailed for co-sleeping with infant accomplice”
Hyunjin: you are all unwell.
Hyunjin finally pocketed his phone, snorting so hard his shoulders shook again, and crouched beside the crib to help drag his husband out of the prison he had voluntarily entered.
It took effort. And sound effects.
Changbin let out a groan so deep it echoed in his soul. His knees cracked audibly. His elbow got briefly caught in the rail.
“I think I saw God in there,” Changbin muttered, limp as a noodle as Hyunjin pulled. “He told me to stretch more.”
“You’re lucky I love you,” Hyunjin replied between laughs. “That was a full rescue mission.”
“You owe me a back massage.”
“You owe me two uninterrupted hours of sleep first.”
Eventually, with a heroic tug and a little teamwork from gravity, Changbin collapsed onto the nursery floor in a heap of defeated dad energy.
“I’m free,” he croaked, face planted into the carpet. “Tell my story.”
“Your story is titled ‘Why Daddies Need Sleep.’”
Once all three of them were safely in the living room, the chaos finally quieted.
Jongsoo was settled on the couch between them, now happily babbling and kicking his feet while holding a teething ring with the intensity of a businessman clutching a briefcase. A small mountain of toys surrounded him. The coffee machine hummed in the kitchen. Outside, golden light spilled through the windows like the world was apologizing for being such a menace overnight.
Changbin exhaled deeply, his head finding its home against Hyunjin’s shoulder.
“I’d still do it again,” he whispered.
Hyunjin didn’t even blink. He just smiled, pressed a kiss to his temple, and murmured,
“We know.”