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“Don’t wander too far, baby.”
Hyeji’s head whips around and she immediately comes running back, her little hand slipping into Minho’s and squeezing tight as if to make sure she won’t lose him. Most people will call her a lovely, well-behaved child. She is lovely and well-behaved, of course, but it’s rooted in fear. Rooted in an unimaginable trauma.
“When’s uncle Sung going to be here?” She asks him, her eyes wide when she looks up at him. They remind him a little too much of her mother, chubby cheeked and full of trust as she looks at him now.
Before he has to force an answer past the lump in his throat, the crowd parts and Jisung comes into view. He’s clad in black cargo pants and a white muscle tee, shades resting atop his head. His eyes are tired, but no one else can probably tell because the wide smile on his face is so bright it outshines everything else.
“Hye-baby!” He calls out, and Hyeji spots him in half a second flat. Her little fingers slip from Minho’s grip again as he lets her go, watches her run across the distance to where Jisung’s already crouching, arms wide open to receive her. When he picks her up, he twirls her around one, two, three times before squeezing her into a tight hug.
It’s routine by now, watching their reunion happen this way every time. Minho notices the people who watch it with him, soft smiles on their faces, temporarily pausing in their walk just to see the little girl giggling with delight, the young man showering her in affection.
Just a couple of years ago, they might have thought him too young for this, but Jisung has seen more than any of them could probably ever imagine. He’s earned the lines on his face going through tribulations they can only read about in the paper or watch on the news. No one would question his status as Hyeji’s guardian, even if she calls him uncle.
“Minho hyung, hey.”
Jisung’s voice breaks him from his thoughts. He blinks back into awareness to find the man standing just opposite him, Hyeji more than happy to be held in his arms, hugging his neck.
“Hey,” Minho returns the greeting, dry and lacking any of Hyeji’s enthusiasm. Jisung’s smile is still soft, he doesn’t care.
“Let’s go?”
The apartment’s quiet when Minho pushes open the door. It’s dark outside by now, but he flicks on the hallway light regardless. Seconds later, with a questioning ‘mrrew’, Bora rounds the corner, her fluffy tail immediately curled into a question mark at the sight of him.
“Hey darling,” he murmurs as he steps out of his shoes and crouches down to pet her. She bumps her head into the palm of his hand, rubbing the entire side of her body against it before turning and doing the same with his leg. He scratches the top of her head gently, runs his hand along the length of her back and lets her fluffy tail run through it.
“It’s just you and me again tonight, darling,” he tells her, pushing himself to stand. His knees crack when he does, making him wince at the volume. There’s no giggling laughter coming from the couch this time, no little finger pointing and laughing. He smiles at the memory of Hyeji’s delight, walking over to the bathroom to wash up.
He doesn’t feel like sleeping just yet, so he heads back into the living room once he’s done. There’s nothing much on the tv at this hour, but he turns it on with the sound low, a little bit of background noise for now. He pulls out his phone instead, checks some of the messages he’d ignored while taking care of Hyeji, and makes sure he doesn’t have more work to catch up on.
By the time he glances up from his phone screen, Bora is curled against his feet, breathing peacefully. The light from the television switches and Minho looks up to see the rebroadcast of the latest attack. He reaches for the remote, turns up the sound just a few clicks. The news anchor is recounting the events of two days ago, describing the Kaiju that broke the surface just outside of Busan port. The Bombaram had met it there, keeping it from ever reaching the coastline.
They show Hwang Hyunjin on screen, the man’s easy laughter and bright eyes always capturing the viewers’ hearts. This time as well, he’s beaming a smile as he answers the interviewer’s questions. His gaze flicks away all the time, distracted by the people having come to greet him. He signs a few autographs while in front of the camera, and lightly strokes a child’s hair.
“It’s always hard even when we’re expecting it,” he explains the encounter. “We were lucky this time that it didn’t get past us. It felt like it was less prepared than the others, but I think the Black Sand already dealt it a heavy blow during their encounter.”
There’s images of the Black Sand’s fight with the Kaiju, driving it away from the Japanese coast but not managing to kill it. Felix Lee’s face pops up shortly after, his smile equally distracting as Hyunjin’s. “They did what they could,” he says with his Australian twang, referencing the two Black Sand pilots. Minho’s glad he learned enough English in school to understand these types of news reports, though the subtitles still come in handy. “But they couldn’t take it down before it set for Korea. Luckily the Bombaram was ready.”
There’s a brief compilation of videos showing Christopher Bang and Seo Changbin descending from Black Sand, filmed from quite a distance, as well as the end of the fight with the Kaiju and the two shapes later exiting the Bombaram. One’s taller with his recognisable blond hair tied up in a ponytail. One’s shorter and disappears around the back of the Jaeger straight away, never coming into camera view.
“How’s your copilot doing?” The interviewer asks and Minho gets to watch Hyunjin’s head lift almost immediately, his eyes slightly narrowed when he takes in the interviewer. It’s almost imperceptible, really, the narrowing, but it’s just enough for Minho to catch.
“He’s fine,” Hyunjin says. “If he weren’t, I wouldn’t even have to tell you. You’d notice.” There’s another giggling laugh and then Hyunjin is nodding, saying his goodbyes and bowing out of the interview to get back inside the Jaeger compound. Minho watches the rest of the broadcast with only half of his attention, mind stuck on the size of the Kaiju and the narrowing of Hyunjin’s eyes.
Is his copilot really fine?
Jisung’s breaks have random lengths. Sometimes he has weeks to months of time before he has to drop Hyeji off, sometimes it’s just days. He can’t help it, of course, and Minho’s happy to help when he can. Hyeji’s used to sleeping at his apartment by now, more than happy to have Bora curled up at her feet, or smothering her face in her sleep. She loves his cooking, too, claiming Jisung’s food is only half as good. Minho made her promise never to say that to Jisung himself.
During the times when Jisung is free to take care of Hyeji himself, Minho visits them regularly. It’s too strange otherwise, having to miss Hyeji for weeks on end after taking care of her for so long. That and Jisung and him are friends too, of course.
They met through Jieun, Minho’s colleague at work turned best friend and Jisung’s older sister. She’d invited Minho over for dinner one day and Jisung had dropped by unannounced. Hyeji had been ecstatic to see her uncle, Minho had been surprised. Then amused by Jisung’s antics with Hyeji. Then endeared.
It had only been a couple months later, after their third encounter, that they’d exchanged numbers and stumbled into a friendship as well. Their meetings had been sporadic, of course, due to the nature of Jisung’s job, but their texting threads were endless and their affection easily established.
Disaster had struck the Han family just a little under a year ago, when a trip to Japan had gone wrong. The Kaiju breach had somehow remained undetected until it was almost at the beach. The Japanese Jaeger had strapped up, but it’d been slow to intercept because of the delay, allowing the Kaiju to make it onto the mainland. Korea’s recently manned Bombaram had been flown over to help, but hadn’t been able to make it in time to save the Sakura or its pilots.
The Bombaram had stopped the Kaiju, at least, but hadn’t been able to prevent numerous civilian casualties.
In the aftermath, a little girl stood in the middle of a destroyed street, having strayed just a little too far from her mother and unable to make it back to her before disaster had struck.
Minho lost his best friend, Jisung lost his sister and Hyeji lost her mother.
The Bombaram had gained praise and fame, but only one of its pilots stepped into the limelight, the name and face of its other pilot remaining unknown to the general public. With Japan’s Sakura destroyed, Australia had offered up their backup Jaeger Black Sand and their most promising pilot Christopher Bang for as long as it took to repair the Sakura. His copilot had been found after a two week search in unassuming Korean fight dome owner Seo Changbin.
They became the first line of defence against the Kaiju. Bombaram the second, leaving its unknown pilot the chance to go home and take care of his sister’s daughter as much as possible. Giving Minho the unfortunate task of endlessly worrying each time the Bombaram is called to action while simultaneously taking over the care for said daughter.
The sound of his doorbell buzzing wakes him from a dreamless sleep, startling him out of it quite mercilessly. He’s already rolled out of bed and standing before he fully realises what woke him. It’s a quick trip to his front door then, worry and shock filling his chest as he thinks of what this sudden nightly visit could possibly mean. It’s not the first time Jisung wakes him in the middle of the night, but it’s only been a week since he picked Hyeji up last. Is there another attack so soon?
When he pulls open his front door, Jisung’s not wide-eyed and alert, doesn’t shove a sleeping Hyeji in his arms with a rushed goodbye, but he’s not alright either. There’s worry lines creasing his forehead, stress tensing the line of his shoulders. In his arms, Hyeji is awake, her eyes bloodshot and her cheeks streaked with tears. Her little arms reach for Minho immediately and she clings to his neck the second he takes her from Jisung’s hold.
“Dad,” she sobs as she buries herself away against him, clinging on so tightly Minho briefly worries she’ll cut off his air supply. Not that it’d matter because the single word punched all the air from his lungs already anyway.
“Hey baby,” he murmurs to her as gently as he can, running a hand over her hair and back and motioning Jisung inside with his head. He only takes a few steps to get out of the way before bringing his full attention to the little girl in his arms. She’s crying still, so he sways her gently and murmurs soft reassurances to her that he’s here, that she’s not alone. All the while he also continues to stroke her back. Unsurprisingly it takes less than ten minutes for her to fall asleep in his arms, utter exhaustion pulling her under.
Only when he’s walked over to the living room to get some tissues and has cleaned her face and hands, does he turn his attention back to Jisung. The man’s standing in the doorway still, eyes fixed on Hyeji and Minho, tear tracks on his own cheeks. He lifts his arm when he catches Minho’s gaze, quickly wiping them away, but says nothing. After a moment, Minho sighs.
“What happened?” He asks in a whisper, not wanting the rumble of his chest to wake Hyeji back up.
Jisung shrugs, gaze going back to Hyeji’s sleeping form, more tears accumulating in his eyes. He bravely keeps them from spilling over. “She had a nightmare. I tried everything but she just kept crying, she was so upset. I thought maybe she’d calm down if she was somewhere else, or that maybe having Bora around would help her.” He looks and sounds apologetic, yet he’s avoiding Minho’s eyes. “I should’ve called. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Minho counters almost immediately. “You know you’re always welcome.” He puts himself in motion then, walking over to Hyeji’s bedroom. When he flicks on the night light next to the door, Bora’s head lifts from where she’d been curled up on the pillow, her signature ‘mrrreow’ sounding up. Minho shushes her softly, and then gently untangles Hyeji’s arms from around his neck as he lays her down on the bed.
She stirs to half-wakefulness, making a sound of distress, but Minho immediately soothes her again. “It’s alright, baby, I’m just putting you down to sleep. Bora’s here.” She reaches out automatically and the cat (bless her furry paws) immediately bumps her head against the little hand, starting up a purr. Hyeji gathers her in her arms, curling around her to fall back asleep, and Minho presses a kiss to her hair. “Sweet dreams,” he whispers to her.
“Goodnight, dad,” she sleepily mumbles back before she’s out again. Minho’s heart sinks down to his stomach, but he simply tucks the blanket in around her curled up frame, scratches Bora’s head lightly and then walks out of the room. He leaves the door open just a smidge, to make sure he’ll hear if she wakes up again.
When he makes it back to the living room, Jisung’s still standing where he stood before, eyes unseeing as he stares ahead of himself, a new set of wet tracks left by the tears spilling from his eyes apparently unnoticed.
“Hey,” Minho murmurs, approaching carefully. They’re friends, perhaps, but they’re also not. Jisung’s focused on saving the world and raising Hyeji, Minho’s terrified of doing the wrong thing yet the only other viable guardian for his best friend’s daughter. So they’re not really friends, but something slightly to the left of it that neither of them have been able to name but that has made Jisung defensive several times before in the past. Minho doesn’t want to trigger it again. “Jisung-ah, are you okay?”
Jisung’s eyes focus slowly. He blinks and then he looks at Minho. Really looks at him. The next second he looks away again. “She called you dad,” he says. Minho’s not sure if it’s just a statement or an accusation. The silence between them lingers briefly as he’s unable to reply. Jisung’s gaze comes up to his face again, searching. “She called you dad, Minho,” he repeats and Minho hums.
“Well, you were already ‘uncle’,” he offers, trying not to make it hurt, even if he has no idea what would hurt Jisung. “It’d be weird for her to change that, probably.”
Jisung’s expression tightens, his eyebrows draw together. “But she called you dad.”
“I’m sorry.”
Minho’s honestly not sure what Jisung wants from him, because it’s not like there’s anything he can do about that. Jisung’s tight expression falls at his words, however, confusion taking its place.
“Why are you apologising?” He asks, clearly gearing up for something more.
Minho stops it all by turning away. “It’s late, Jisung. I would like to go back to sleep. Are you okay with sharing my bed or do you want me to make up the couch?”
There’s silence behind him. A deep, terrifying silence that he waits out as he slowly walks across the living room towards the hallway. He almost thinks the silence won’t be broken at all before he’s gone, but then Jisung surprises him again.
“Hyung.”
He stops. Turns his head. Jisung’s still standing where Minho left him, shoulders now slumped, corners of his mouth downturned, eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
“Please don’t walk away right now, hyung. I n–” Jisung cuts himself off, but the tears start rolling down his cheeks again. He sniffs once, lifts his arm to wipe them again, never breaking their eye contact. “Hyung, please.”
Minho’s heart is soft like butter, really. Jieun would always accuse him of it, even when everyone else called him uninterested and cold. She’d say it’d take no more than a fingertip to dent it, hence why he kept it so far out of anyone’s reach. Not hers, though. Not Hyeji’s.
It turns out not Jisung’s either.
He turns around again, faces him fully. “Come here, Jisung-ah,” he murmurs, lifting his arms slightly in offer.
Jisung puts himself in motion faster than Minho expected. He’s a mirror image of his niece when he almost bodily crashes into Minho, arms wrapping around his neck, burying away against his chest. The sobs that wreck through Jisung’s body are violent, but he muffles their sound in Minho’s sleeping shirt. Like muscle memory, Minho’s hand comes up to run over his hair, his back. He doesn’t need to carry Jisung like he did Hyeji so he wraps his other arm around his middle instead and holds him steady.
They don’t stand there long, because Jisung seems to recompose himself quite quickly. The sobs come to a stop first, before he lifts his head and takes a few deep breaths.
“Sorry, I’m sorry, hyung,” he immediately apologises, starting to pull away. Minho lets him, but only so he can take hold of Jisung’s face and wipe the tears away again. He even brings up the hem of his shirt to dry his cheeks, gently dabbing it under his eyes.
“It’s late and you’re tired, Jisung-ah. Let’s go to bed, come on. It’s been a rough night, you should get some more sleep first. We can talk about this tomorrow.” He doesn’t pull away this time, so his hands end up gently cupping Jisung’s face while Jisung leans into the touch fully.
“Hyung,” he says again, eyes flicking up to catch Minho’s gaze. Jisung’s clearly tired, but he’s alert as well, his entire body ready for whatever he might have to fight this time. The soft glow of the lamp to the side of them bathes his features in a golden hue, and Minho’s heart thumps loudly at the sight before him.
Butter easily dented. Possibly already molten and coursing through his veins. Liquified love.
Most of the time, Jisung’s like any other person, but sometimes his Jaeger pilot experience bleeds through. Like when his reflexes are faster than lightning. Or when he stands up against injustice. Or when he shares his intentions in the headspace before doing something, except he forgets Minho does not share a headspace with him.
So when Jisung leans in, Minho’s unprepared, fingers tightening their hold, stopping Jisung’s forward motion out of reflex, because it felt like he was falling. It earns him a brief look of surprise before it melts into a horrified sort of realisation.
“Oh,” Jisung hums this time. “Hyung. I–”
It’s Minho who cuts him off this time, fingers tightening as they pull Jisung to finish his earlier motion, while leaning in himself. His hand-eye coordination is good, so despite the sudden movement, they don’t collide, but rather they come together softly. Minho presses his lips to Jisung’s, head tilted to the side, eyes slipped close. When he pulls away a smidge, slightly shifts his head and presses in close again, Jisung lets slip a soft sound. His hand comes up to rest on the back of Minho’s head, fingers tightening in his hair without trying to push or pull. They kiss a third time, a fourth, a fifth.
He can feel Jisung’s body relaxing against his own, slumping into him like all his strings are cut. There’s another soft few sounds escaping him each time their lips meet, clearly involuntary and yet he’s not shy about them. Not shy about letting Minho see him, know him.
Maybe that’s part of being a Jaeger pilot, too. They take everything into the drift, they share everything with another person. Hwang Hyunjin knows Jisung like no one else does and Jisung knows him equally well. They operate in synchronicity, some of Jisung’s movements or mannerisms very reminiscent of the Hyunjin Minho sees on screen. Some of Hyunjin’s on-screen mannerisms reminiscent of the Jisung he’d met all those years ago.
Jisung’s used to letting himself be known, so he’s not shy about it with Minho either. Minho who, on the other hand, has never bared himself quite so fully to another person. Minho who let even Jieun in by increments only, most of her knowledge of him coming from her intuitivity rather than him giving it away. Even with Jisung, or maybe especially with Jisung, he’s been guarded, he’s kept any of his lesser known emotions from being found out.
Except for now.
Because if Jisung can cross the distance, Minho can meet him halfway.
He wakes up because he’s too warm, like the blanket has tangled all around him overnight, leaving no space for the warmth to slip out. When he shifts, though, it’s not a blanket he’s tangled in, but the limbs of another person, hot breath gently puffing against the back of his neck. He can’t help but smile, reaching down to run his fingers over Jisung’s hand on his stomach.
They’d shared some kisses in the living room last night, after which Minho had convinced a pliant and relaxed Jisung to finally go to bed. There, more kisses had been stolen from him, but he doesn’t quite mind. Jisung had been so soft, so gentle with it, and Minho had given in willingly. Eventually, exhaustion had pulled Jisung under, though he’d fought it to the last possible second, pressing little kisses to Minho’s shoulder and collarbone, where his face had slipped down to in the end.
Overnight, Minho must have turned away from him, sought the comfort of sleeping on his usual side, but Jisung had simply rolled along with him and wrapped around him all over again.
“Mhm.”
The little sound pressed into his shoulder makes Minho smile a little wider, even more so when Jisung’s body tenses up against his back as he stretches, a little tremble going through the both of them at the end before he relaxes again entirely.
“What time?” Jisung questions in a mumble, nuzzling into Minho’s shoulder. He brushes his thumb over the back of Jisung’s hand and then moves slowly to turn back over. When they come face to face, Jisung blinks open sleepy eyes to look at him, a soft smile brightening his expression as he does.
“Morning hyung,” he mutters, and Minho can only reach up to brush a thumb under his eye, wiping the sleep from it gently.
“It’s still early,” he promises, “you should sleep some more. I’ll go check on Hyeji and make you guys breakfast.”
Jisung’s fingers immediately circle his wrist, keeping him from pulling away. The gaze he’s regarded with is instantly more awake, more aware. “Hyung, I wanted to,” he’s quick to say, gaze flicking between Minho’s eyes, the look in his own quite intense. “I was tired, but not out of it. It wasn’t a mistake.”
What is he to say to this admission other than the truth? “I know.” He continues to run his fingers over Jisung’s skin, following the slope of his cheekbone, trailing off at the corner of his eye. When he leans in, it’s to press his lips to Jisung’s forehead, soft. “Sleep a little more, darling,” he suggests as he pulls away. “We’ll talk more later.”
Jisung’s fingers curl into his sleep shirt before he can straighten up, pulling him back down so that their lips can slot together again. It’s just as soft as the first time and Minho smiles into the kiss as warmth spills over within him. Melted butter. Liquified love. Jisung, sleep-warm and soft-eyed, yearning after him when he pulls away.
“You can have more of that later too,” he half-promises half-scolds, though the smile hasn’t left him yet. Jisung’s gaze lingers briefly on his lips before coming back up to meet his own.
“Hyung,” he says again, voice full of emotion. Minho can only smile at him, warm and soft. “I love you.”
The warmth sparks through his entire body, like butter heated in a frying pan, sending sizzles of heat into every corner of his skin. His fingers briefly tighten on the edge of the mattress before he’s leaning in again himself. He tangles fingers in Jisung’s hair this time, kisses him slowly and thoroughly.
When Jisung parts his lips on another involuntary sound, Minho takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. The more he leans in, the further Jisung leans back into his pillow, until Minho’s got one knee on the bed, one hand supporting his weight and one hand keeping Jisung from pulling any further away. Not that he’s got anywhere left to go – or that he wants to stop this at all.
By the time he pulls back for air, Minho’s own body is buzzing with the intensity of their kiss. Jisung’s lips are shiny wet, Minho’s own probably not much better. He’d care in any other situation, but he doesn’t right now, instead watching the way Jisung’s eyes remain closed a little longer. He’s breathing heavier, clearly affected by the kiss, and Minho finds himself smiling all over again at the sight of it.
“Sleep, darling,” he offers again, letting his fingers brush through Jisung’s hair as he pulls away. “I’ll come wake you up when breakfast is ready.” He leans in to leave a final kiss on Jisung’s temple before he draws away completely, getting up from the bed and leaving his bedroom before he can be stopped again.
Hyeji seems normal at breakfast. She eats what Minho puts on her plate with the same gusto as always and happily recounts the things she has done with ‘uncle Jisung’ in the past couple of days. Other than how late she woke up, there’s no sign left of the hellish night she’s had. Jisung seems more than happy to forget it ever happened, but Minho can’t just let it pass by like that.
So when she’s done recounting all of her adventures, he slips in the question casually. “Hey baby, what happened last night?”
The shock on Jisung’s face is bigger than the emotion Hyeji portrays, even if she does show an echo of that night’s distress. “I missed you,” is all she offers, though, looking down at her plate.
“I always miss you when you’re away too,” he indulges her, but still reaches over to run a hand over her hair. “But I’m worried. It looked like something really bad happened. Will you tell me about it? I can’t help you if I don’t know what went wrong.”
Hyeji keeps her gaze down for a few more seconds, but then she looks back up at him. She’s full Han lineage with her chubby cheeks and her wide, trusting eyes. Minho can only smile at her and internally vow to give his life to protect her if necessary. Hopefully he’ll give his life to raising her instead, though.
“I had a bad dream…” She ventures after a moment of silence. Minho nods encouragingly. “Mom came. But she left me. She was alive, but she still left me.” Hyeji’s lip wobbles at the end of her words, her eyes brimming with tears once more, but she keeps looking at Minho. “You won’t leave me,” she proclaims next, much more certain than a nearly crying six year old should be.
“Uncle Jisung won’t leave you either.”
Hyeji’s gaze finds him briefly, as if only now remembering that Jisung is still at the table as well. He gives her a reassuring nod and a smile when their eyes meet, but Minho can see his expression fall when Hyeji looks away again and speaks her next words.
“Uncle Jisung leaves all the time.”
The devastation etched into Jisung’s features is heartbreaking, but Minho can’t focus on him right now. He has to focus on Hyeji first.
“He stays as often as he can, Hyeji. Sometimes there are things we have to do that we can’t ignore. That doesn’t mean uncle Jisung doesn’t love you.”
Hyeji stubbornly shakes her head. Another Han family trait, perhaps, especially paired with the natural pout her lips jut out into.
“You stay with me,” she proclaims with zero hesitation. “You always stay with me. Mom said that’s what parents do. She said that’s why I don’t have a dad, because he didn’t stay, so he’s not really a parent. But you stay, so you are.” After stating all of that so proudly, she finally hesitates, her eyes searching Minho’s face, insecurity creeping in. “Right? You’re my dad?”
There is no way Minho can reject the full force of Hyeji’s hopeful gaze, so he lets his hand slide down to cup her face. “I’ll stay with you for as long as I can,” he promises her, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb. “As will your uncle Jisung. I know he has to leave sometimes but he always comes back to you. That’s important too, baby.”
“But he’s my uncle,” she protests quietly, much more subdued than before. “He can’t be my dad.”
Minho breathes out a smile at that, gently squeezing her cheek. “Well he’s still family,” he compromises. “And he cares about you a lot. You’ll make him sad if you say things like that.”
Immediately, Hyeji looks back to Jisung. No matter how much he tries, the truth of Minho’s words can’t be hidden so quickly. Hyeji’s eyes widen in alarm at the sight, but she seems unsure how to rectify the situation. Jisung musters up a smile for her, however, and nods a few times.
“I do have to leave a lot,” he agrees with her. There’s a barely-there tremor in his voice that Hyeji luckily doesn’t seem to notice. “But that’s because there’s something at my work only I can do, and it’s very important. If someone else could do it or it was less important, I’d never leave you at all, Hyeji-yah. I’m sorry.”
It seems Hyeji thinks these words over really carefully before she finally nods her head again. “Okay. I’m sorry, uncle Jisung.”
She reaches out for him, leaning across the table to be able to do so, and he leans closer to her as well to allow her to reach him. Her little fingers touch his cheek and she wipes it almost tenderly. “Don’t be sad,” she urges. “I don’t want uncle to feel bad.”
“Uncle feels bad he can’t take better care of you, Hyeji-yah,” Jisung replies, his hand coming up to take hold of her little one. Hyeji’s lip juts out into a pout and Minho watches the effect it has on Jisung, the way he unconsciously mirrors the expression in return.
“Hyeji, baby,” Minho intercedes before they end up crying - whichever one of them would start first. “Uncle Jisung and I both love you equally much. When uncle Jisung can’t be there, I take care of you, but sometimes when he takes care of you, I have to go away as well. It doesn’t mean we love you any less, or that we won’t be there if you really need us. Just like when your mom used to go to work, we have places to go. It’s just that uncle Jisung’s work sometimes takes him away for longer than my work does. But he loves you just as much as a dad would. And so do I.”
Her big eyes are focused on him with great intensity as she drinks in his words. Her hand has slowly dropped back down to the table, but Jisung’s still holding it in his own, looking at the side of her face. Minho smiles at the both of them, and then focuses back on Hyeji.
“I love you too,” she offers almost shyly. Then she looks back at Jisung. “Uncle Jisung too. You’re like mom.”
Minho smiles a bit wider at the tears brimming in Jisung’s eyes when she says those words, and wishes he could hold both of their hands. But they’re focused on each other for now, and that’s good too. Whatever distance ended up between them, it’s clearly growing smaller now.
“You can pick your family, you know?” Jisung offers up tentatively, eyes never straying from Hyeji. “If you want me to be your dad, I can be your dad, even if I am your uncle. If you want Minho to be your dad, he can also be your dad.”
He’s clearly bracing for another rejection, already accepting the inevitability of Hyeji choosing Minho again, faulting him for not being around as often. Yet when she speaks again, she defies all expectations.
“Can you both be my dad?”
Jisung’s too shocked to reply straight away, so Minho finally reaches out to take hold of Hyeji’s other hand, simultaneously also resting one hand on Jisung’s thigh.
“Of course, baby,” he agrees without doubt. “If you want to call both of us dad, you can. No matter what you call us, we’ll keep taking care of you, though, and we’ll keep loving you.”
Her gaze finds him immediately, something sparking to life in her expression as she mulls it over. “No one in my class has two dads!” She realises with great excitement. “Everyone is going to be so jealous!”
And that seems to be all she thinks needs to be said on the matter, her little hands pulling out of their grip so she can continue eating. She doesn’t stuff her cheeks like her uncle does, but she does eat with much gusto, no space left in her mind for conversation, nor any left in her mouth for speaking.
Minho watches her for a few seconds, before turning to look at Jisung. When he sees the almost stunned look in his eyes, he squeezes his thigh gently and then reaches for his hand instead, intertwining their fingers. When their eyes meet, Jisung’s smile is a little watery but grateful. Minho offers him another gentle squeeze in reassurance.
Jisung takes the first moment they have alone to keep him to his promise. When Hyeji’s dropped off at school and they return to Minho’s home in quiet agreement, he doesn’t even wait until they’ve taken off their shoes once the door closes.
“Hyung,” he says, reaching out and curling his fingers in Minho’s sleeve. “Thank you for talking about it with her. I don’t think I could have done that.”
Minho glances down at Jisung’s hand only briefly before meeting his gaze. He gives a single nod of his head. “She needed to talk about it too,” he dismisses the whole subject. “I know she loves you just as much if not more.”
Jisung makes a face, but then he shrugs. “Well,” he murmurs, “I love her more, but you’re a close second.”
It startles a huffed laugh out of him, shaking his head at Jisung’s words. “Idiot,” he accuses, but doesn’t further reject the statement. Before he can say anything else, Jisung is pushing up into his space and slotting their lips together. It almost feels natural already, so Minho lets himself sink into it easily. His hands come up to take hold of Jisung’s sides, pulling their bodies together so he can kiss him longer.
Jisung makes a little sound again and Minho honest to god just wants to eat him whole. Instead of doing that, he pulls away slowly. Jisung stubbornly claims a few more kisses before letting him, his eyes opening slowly after as if he’s reluctant to let go of the moment.
“So,” Minho starts, briefly unsure of how to continue. Then he states: “You love me.” Jisung’s nod is certain, no doubt in his eyes. “I’m not Hwang Hyunjin, I can’t read your mind, so you’re going to have to tell me what you want to do.”
“Be with you,” Jisung immediately replies. Then he seems to hesitate. “If you– That is, do you, um, like me?”
“Jisung-ah,” Minho immediately deadpans. “Really?”
Jisung’s cheeks flush, his gaze briefly flicking away before it returns to him. “Hyung, it’s just— You haven’t really said anything. I don’t want to assume.”
Minho holds his gaze for a few beats of silence. Jisung doesn’t flinch, doesn’t avert his eyes again, he simply looks back, waiting. In the end, Minho sighs softly. “Assume,” he says, his head dipping briefly into a nod. “Whatever you want.”
Almost instantly, Jisung’s lips pull into a smirk, his eyes glimmering with joy much like Hyeji’s had that morning. “You’re so into me,” he says, a little cocky but with enough humour that it’s clearly said for fun. “Couldn’t take your eyes off me from the first day you met me. You’ve been yearning after me ever since and now, finally, your deepest wish is coming true.”
Minho smiles, slips his thumb under the hem of Jisung’s shirt and presses it briefly into his warm skin. “Exactly,” he agrees, except there’s no humour in his voice. Jisung’s cocky grin slips away, his expression briefly turning to disbelief, then shock, then settling into an equally serious one.
“Hyung,” he breathes, somehow conveying more feeling in the one word than anything else. “Me too.”
When Minho smiles, Jisung mirrors it. The happiness on his face grows until he’s shining with it, his eyes alight with joy. Minho’s smile widens because of it, turning into a brief laugh. Then he leans in again, kisses Jisung again.
“How much of this will Hwang Hyunjin get to see?” He asks when he pulls back. This time there is some shyness in Jisung’s grin, some apology as well.
“All of it, probably. Though not every detail.”
“Hm, well.” He straightens his spine a little, squares his shoulders. “Hello, Hyunjin-ssi. If you see this, you should really make Jisung introduce us. It’s been long enough. Now, you should look away for the next part.”
It’s little, sparkling giggles that he kisses from Jisung’s lips when he leans in after, tasting their fizzling joy on his tongue.