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“Please,” their COO pleaded, unexpectedly. “Just for a few hours.”
Standing beside him was a small boy, barely reaching his hips, his wide eyes filled with timid curiosity as he glanced up at them.
Hyunjoon and Hyeonjun looked at one another for a split second, before staring back at their COO in confusion.
“Huh, what?” Hyeonjun asked, looking clearly bewildered at the sudden request.
“It’s an emergency—something came up at the last minute for my sister and she had no one else to leave him with,” their COO explained, slightly flustered. “But I have an important investment meeting for, I don’t know, the next four hours? Could you two look after him in the meantime?”
Hyeonjun blinked. Hyunjoon glanced at the kid. Round face, shy eyes, and a dinosaur hoodie that was a little too big.
“Uhm…,” Hyunjoon said. “We don’t exactly have… child content here.”
“He plays KartRider really well, that should keep him occupied.”
“Then dinner?” Hyunjoon asked.
“Youngjae ah, you like the fried rice from Crystal Jade right?” Their COO knelt to the child’s level. “These two hyungs will bring you there for dinner later, so you’ll play with them today, okay?”
The child, Youngjae, nodded shyly as he walked towards Hyunjoon and Hyeonjun.
“We’re not exactly daycare…” Hyeonjun mumbled.
“You’re not not responsible adults,” the COO replied. “I’ll text one of you when my meeting’s over. Thank you, you two are the best! Bye Youngjae, be good.”
And then he was gone.
That was how Hyunjoon and Hyeonjun ended up with a child under their care, on a Sunday evening, after a short scrim session. They were looking forward to grabbing an early dinner before heading to Hyeonjun’s dorm to unwind but their plans had changed.
Youngjae stood right in front of them, hugging his backpack tightly, staring blankly up at them.
“So we are babysitting now?” Hyeonjun asked, slightly amused at whatever had just went down ten minutes ago.
“Apparently,” Hyunjoon replied, crouching slightly nearer to Youngjae. “You’re Youngjae, right?”
“Yes,” Youngjae answered with a small nod.
“Wanna know something funny? Both of us have the same name,” Hyunjoon gestured to Hyeonjun beside him as he spoke with a smile. “Hyunjoon and Hyeonjun, but you can just call us hyung.”
Youngjae stared at Hyeonjun for a moment, before leaning nearer to Hyunjoon, whispering in his ear. “That hyung looks scary.” He was clearly trying to whisper but his voice still came out loud enough for Hyeonjun to hear.
“I’m not scary,” Hyeonjun said with a slight frown, squatting down to Youngjae’s level.
“You look serious.”
Hyunjoon chuckled at their adorable interaction. A few minutes in and they seem to be bonding already. “He’s not scary or serious. He just needs to smile, right?”
Hyeonjun flashed Youngjae a half-smile half-grin, making the boy giggle as he wrapped his hands around Hyunjoon’s shoulder like a shield against him.
“Wow, he likes you already. What’s your secret?” Hyeonjun let out a dramatic huff, feigning annoyance.
“That’s because I smile, right Youngjae-ah?” Hyunjoon said with a smug smirk, reaching his hand for Youngjae to hold. “Let’s go to the practice room to play.”
The oversized gaming chair practically swallowed Youngjae whole, but the kid looked thrilled, legs dangling off the edge and eyes wide as Hyeonjun’s monitor lit up with the opening screen of KartRider. Their set-up looked like this: Youngjae sat between them using Hyeonjun’s pc, while Hyeonjun used Sanghyeok’s pc and Hyunjoon on his own. Hyeonjun was busy setting up his computer with his second account while Hyunjoon adjusted the chair’s height.
“Alright,” Hyeonjun said as he leaned back onto his chair. “This is the real deal, no mercy.”
Youngjae looked up at him with serious eyes. “Even if I’m six?”
“Especially if you’re six,” Hyeonjun answered with a smirk.
Hyunjoon snorted. “Ignore him. He always talks big and comes in last on item mode.”
Hyeonjun rolled his eyes, unable to come up with a response to that.
Youngjae giggled, gripping the mouse a little tighter. “The mouse is a little too big for me… I have a kids’ mouse at home”
“Okay, we’ll give you a fifteen-second head start, deal?” Hyeonjun caved in, his eyes crinkling at how adorable Youngjae looked. The equipment was all too big for him but he looked so excited to play.
“Deal,” Youngjae said with a huge grin on his face.
“Do you need to play through the introductions?” Hyunjoon asked as they started the game.
“No. I’m at level 40 when I play at home,” Youngjae answered innocently, staring back at the screen, ready to start.
Hyunjoon exchanged a look with Hyeonjun, clearly surprised, “Okay, then. Guess this isn’t gonna be a charity round after all.”
Three PCs. One six-year-old. Two professional gamers who had absolutely underestimated him.
From the first round it was clear. Youngjae was fast and well versed with the maps.It wasn’t that he was lucky, his moves were clean. His drifts were perfectly timed like muscle memory, stacking up his boosts effortlessly.
“He’s chaining his drifts so smoothly,” Hyeonjun muttered. “That’s illegal, he’s six.”
“You’re losing,” Hyeonjun pointed out, just as Youngjae sped past them both on a tight corner.
“No one told me we invited a demon child,” Hyunjoon said.
Youngjae was silent and focused during the game. He threw a banana behind him, hitting Hyeonjun right in the face, sending his kart spinning off a ramp.
Hyunjoon let out a loud laugh under his breath, the kind of genuine laughter he rarely made in public.
“Never mind,” he said. “I like this kid.”
By the third round, Youngjae had three consecutive wins under his belt. He hadn’t talked much, but the more he played, the more his concentration melted into a quiet kind of joy. His eyes sparkled every time he pulled off a perfect drift, and his smile would flicker across his face like he was trying not to show how proud he was.
“You want a spot on our roster?” Hyunjoon asked, leaning over in mock defeat after the last match. “We formed a Pro KartRider group last off-season.”
Youngjae finally looked away from the screen. “I don’t think I’m old enough to be a pro.”
Hyeonjun nodded, completely straight-faced. “We’ll lie on the application.”
“Do I get a pro nickname?” Youngjae asked, visibly considering it.
“We’ll call you… Booster,” Hyeonjun said.
Hyunjoon shook his head visibly. “No. That’s horrible.”
Youngjae giggled again, his cheeks turning slightly pink from laughing.
Hyunjoon and Hyeonjun joined in with laughter.
Just a kid, two grown men who forgot it was a work day, and a race that didn’t need a trophy to feel like a win. The sun had started to dip low behind the buildings, golden light streaming through the windows as the world outside darkened slowly.
“Dinner?” Hyunjoon asked, stretching his arms over his head until his back popped. “I think we’ve played enough.”
“You mean we’ve lost enough? We were the ones losing,” Hyeonjun said, already putting on his jacket
“Exactly. I need to eat away the pain.”
They packed up and shut down all the computers, carrying little Youngjae off the chair as he carried his backpack. The Crystal Jade restaurant was just around the corner. Usually, Hyeonjun would have driven them there, but because they didn’t have a car seat for Youngjae, they walked there instead.
It was only a few minutes’ walk, but somewhere along the way, Youngjae started acting like he’d known them for years. At first, it was just chatter. Endless questions about team comps and gaming chairs and who was faster. Then it turned into skipping, bouncing slightly as he walked ahead, arms spread like airplane wings.
And then—
“Ah—hey!”
Hyunjoon stopped mid-sentence when he felt a tug at his sweatpants.
He turned around to see Youngjae trying—and failing to pull them down past his hips, grinning like he was having the time of his life.
Youngjae didn’t give up though, he kept pulling, each tug harder and stronger than before as Hyunjoon continued forward. Hyunjoon held tight onto the waistband of his sweatpants, dragging each foot forward forcefully as laughter spilt out.
“Sir,” Hyunjoon said, mock-offended, clutching tight as he turned around. “That’s an act of war.”
Youngjae giggled and took off running, but he didn’t get far.
Hyunjoon scooped him up easily from behind, hands under his arms, and spun him in one wide, ridiculous circle.
Youngjae shrieked with laughter, legs flailing, head thrown back toward the sky.
“Caught you!” Hyunjoon shouted, still spinning around with him.
“I didn’t do it!” Youngjae gasped between laughs.
“You literally tried to pants me!”
“You said no mercy!”
They were both laughing now—full, unguarded, echoing down the quiet streets.
Behind them, Hyeonjun had stopped walking. He was holding up his phone, filming everything, trying his best to stifle his laughter.
When the spinning finally stopped and Hyunjoon lowered Youngjae gently to the sidewalk, the kid was breathless with glee, hair sticking up and face flushed.
“I win,” he said proudly.
Hyunjoon crouched to his eye level, ruffling his messy hair. “You’re out of control.”
Hyeonjun walked over then, phone still in hand. He didn’t say anything, just pressed play and showed them the video.
It was wobbly and far from polished. But in it, Hyunjoon’s laughter was loud and real. Youngjae’s grin was blinding. And for a split second, Hyunjoon glanced up at the camera—eyes crinkled, happiness written all over his face.
The video ended.
“Delete it,” Hyunjoon said, already smiling.
“No,” Hyeonjun said, pocketing his phone. “I’m saving it. For blackmail.”
“For who?”
Hyeonjun just looked at him.
Hyunjoon sighed, defeated. Youngjae tugged on his sleeve. “Can I watch it again after dinner?”
Hyeonjun gave a rare, soft smile. “As many times as you want, I’ll send it to your uncle later.”
And just like that, the three of them kept walking, with Youngjae between them, hand in hand.
They were quickly seated once they reached the restaurant, tucked away from the cold. Hyunjoon sat beside Youngjae and Hyeonjun slid into the chair beside him.
“Shouldn’t you sit beside Youngjae?” Hyunjoon questioned.
“He can eat fine by himself,” Hyeonjun answered with a cheeky smile. “Can’t I sit beside you?”
“You want the usual?” Hyunjoon asked, flipping through the menu more out of habit than need.
Hyeonjun nodded, passing his menu, flipped to the rice page over to Youngjae. “Do you remember which fried rice you like?”
“It’s an egg fried rice… and there’s prawn also,” Youngjae said without hesitation.
“Hyung, I think it’s the egg fried rice with shrimp,” Hyeonjun pointed out as Hyunjoon ordered on his phone.
“Okay, got it,” Hyunjoon said without looking up from his phone. “Any drinks?”
“Cola for me.”
Youngjae took out his water bottle from his backpack, pouting a little as he opened it. “I have water…”
Hyunjoon noticed his pout immediately, offering the drinks menu over for him to see. “Do you want any drink from here?”
“I like orange juice but my mummy says I cannot drink too many sweet drinks…”
“How about I order an orange juice and I’ll pour you just a small cup?” Hyunjoon suggested with a smirk, watching as Youngjae’s eyes lit up.
Youngjae hesitated for a moment before looking up at Hyunjoon, “Will you keep this a secret from my mummy and my uncle?”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
“Me too, I won’t tell,” Hyeonjun added, pretending to zip his mouth shut with his hand.
“Okie yay!” Youngjae beamed with joy, clapping his hands lightly as he smiled from ear to ear.
While waiting for the food, Hyeonjun went onto POP and posted a short snippet of Hyunjoon playing with Youngjae earlier, giggling as he sent a few messages after. Hyeonjun was pouring his glass of orange juice into a small cup for Youngjae, when he heard a notification from his phone—Hyeonjun’s pop.
He placed down the cups and opened the notification, staring at what Hyeonjun just posted.
“Hey, why did you post that?” Hyunjoon grumbled, already starting to think about getting his revenge.
“You looked cute,” Hyeonjun shrugged nonchalantly, taking a sip of his cola.
The food came quickly—plates of side dishes, Hyunjoon’s naengmyeon, Hyeonjun’s jjamppong, and Youngjae’s fried rice. Everything smelled warm and homely, making their stomachs grumble even more.
“Do you need a smaller plate?” Hyunjoon asked, pushing the plate of fried rice nearer to Youngjae, who shook his head gently.
Youngjae struggled with the chopsticks at first, brows furrowed in concentration as he resorted to using his hands, pushing a shrimp onto his spoon. Hyeonjun gently adjusted the way he held them, guiding his fingers without a word. Then he raised his hands and asked the waiter for children’s cutlery instead.
“There,” Hyunjoon said, handing over a kid's training chopsticks. “This should be easier.”
“Kid’s been beating us all day, and now he’s learning table manners. Incredible,” Hyeonjun chuckled as he took a big slurp of his jjamppong.
“I have table manners,” Youngjae muttered, chewing carefully. “I just forget them sometimes.”
“Same, actually.”
Hyunjoon raised his hand again, this time asking for a disposable food cover. When the waiter handed it over to him, he turned to help put it on. Not on Youngjae. But Hyeonjun.
Hyeonjun paused mid-slurp, looking up at Hyunjoon in confusion. “What?”
“You’re wearing white,” Hyunjoon said softly, tying the disposable food cover around Hyeonjun’s neck. “You’re going to stain your shirt with the way you’re slurping so aggressively.”
“Hyung looks more like a kid than me,” Youngjae giggled, watching how Hyunjoon helped him put it on.
“Shh, eat your food,” Hyeonjun whispered with a slight flush in his cheeks, scooping a spoonful of fishcakes and placing it on Youngjae’s plate.
Hyunjoon chuckled at how shy Hyeonjun looked, he was adorable.
He reached out for his phone and opened the camera app. He took a photo of his naengmyeon first, posting it on POP right away when he had an idea.
“Oner,” he called out as Hyeonjun turned around, mid-smile, taking a photo.
He smiled smugly, posting the photo of Hyeonjun with the caption ‘it’s revenge’.
Hyunjoon was still typing his sentence midway ‘Oner’s pop posted something weird, don’t go there’ when he heard a camera shutter go off. And almost instantly, he received another two messages from Oner’s POP.
He tapped on the notification as he shot Hyeonjun a glare, who was still grinning cheekily. Hyeonjun had taken a photo of him while he was typing, a faint smile on his lips, accompanied by the caption ‘you’re good at pop’.
“Aish, stop it. Let’s eat in peace,” Hyunjoon said as he placed his phone down, turning to check on Youngjae who was quietly eating, ignoring the banter going on between the two.
They ate slowly, the pace unrushed. Youngjae ate his fried rice well, all by himself, occasionally pointing at a side dish Hyunjoon had ordered and asking, “Can I try that?”
Hyeonjun always pushed a piece over without hesitation.
At one point, a stray bit of rice stuck to Youngjae’s cheek. Hyunjoon reached over with a napkin and dabbed it off before the kid even noticed.
“Hyung,” Youngjae said, mid-bite, “this is the best Sunday ever.”
Hyeonjun looked at him for a moment—at the swing of his legs under the table, the way he was starting to lean sleepily against Hyunjoon’s side—and said, quietly, “Yeah. It kinda is.”
As the plates emptied and the table grew cluttered with crumpled napkins and empty bowls, Youngjae’s energy began to fade.
He rested his chin on the table with a long, contented sigh, fingers idly pushing a grain of rice in a circle on his plate.
“Full?” Hyeonjun asked.
Youngjae nodded, eyes half-lidded. “My tummy’s warm.”
“Good,” Hyunjoon said. “You earned it. Our MVP for today’s KartRider.”
“Even if I pulled your pants?”
Hyunjoon gave him a look. “Especially because you pulled my pants. That takes guts.”
Youngjae giggled into his folded arms. He was still trying to stay upright, but his head kept tipping slightly toward Hyeonjun, whose hand eventually came to rest on his back, steadying him.
“Think he’ll fall asleep if we stay here five more minutes?” Hyeonjun murmured.
“He already is,” Hyunjoon said.
They looked down. Youngjae’s breathing had gone slow, steady. His cheek was pressed to his folded arms, his tiny frame leaned on the table.
The streets were quieter now. The dinner rush had passed, and the soft buzz of cars and conversation had faded into stillness.
Hyeonjun adjusted his arms slightly, shifting Youngjae’s weight.
The boy had drifted back to sleep after briefly waking up when Hyeonjun picked him up—small and warm in his hoodie, his head nestled against Hyeonjun’s shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Hyunjoon walked a step behind them, hands in his pockets, watching them in silence.
He could hear the soft sound of Youngjae’s breathing, the faint brush of his sneaker toe against Hyeonjun’s pant leg. And every now and then, he caught Hyeonjun glancing down—not with worry, but the same quiet attentiveness he always had towards Hyunjoon.
“He’s totally out,” Hyunjoon murmured.
Hyeonjun nodded, barely moving his head. “He fought hard today.”
They walked in silence for a while, side by side as they strolled down the street. When Hyunjoon turned to look at them again, Hyeonjun had shifted Youngjae slightly, his arm now cupped under the boy’s legs instead of just his back.
“Is he heavy?” Hyunjoon asked.
Hyeonjun shook his head. “Nope.”
“You look like you’ve done this before.”
“I haven’t.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
Another beat of quiet. Hyunjoon’s voice lowered. “You look good like this.”
Hyeonjun turned to glance at him, but didn’t say anything. His expression was unreadable—or maybe just too honest to label.
“I didn’t know I could do this,” Hyeonjun said softly. “Just… be someone safe.”
Ahead, the HQ building came into view—lights still on, the security lamp by the door flickering softly.
Hyunjoon smiled faintly to himself.
“Think the COO’s done panicking?”
“Probably.”
“You think he knows we’re—” He paused, then reworded. “—good at this?”
“Babysitting?”
“Whatever this is,” Hyunjoon murmured. “Us. Together. With a kid. A normal day.”
“I think we both did way better than we thought we'd do,” Hyunjoon said with a chuckle, his eyes still looking at how peaceful Hyeonjun looked carrying Youngjae.
They reached the door. Youngjae stirred a little in Hyeonjun’s arms, murmuring something half-asleep. Hyunjoon held the door open quietly, letting them pass. The lounge lights had been dimmed, just enough to keep the room from going dark.
Youngjae was asleep on the couch now—curled up under Hyeonjun’s hoodie as a makeshift blanket, head resting against one of the plush cushions. His tiny socked feet poked out from underneath the fabric.
Hyeonjun sat nearby, cross-legged on the floor with his back against the sofa, scrolling silently through his phone.
Hyunjoon had sprawled across a beanbag chair, chin resting in his palm, watching Youngjae sleep like the kid might suddenly start talking in his dreams.
It was quiet, but not in a way that begged for noise.
It was the kind of quiet that settled in your bones. The kind that came only after full stomachs and shared laughter and the gentle tiredness of a day well spent.
The door opened about ten minutes later, and the COO stepped inside, looking exhausted but relieved.
“God,” he exhaled. “I thought that meeting would never end.”
He paused when he saw the scene—the sleeping child, the soft lighting, the two adults who looked more like off-duty babysitters than pro gamers. “…You actually kept him alive.”
“He crushed us in KartRider,” Hyunjoon said without moving.
“Three times,” Hyeonjun added. “Clean.”
The COO let out a breath that could’ve been a laugh. “He’s been trying to beat his cousin for weeks. He’s gonna brag for a month.”
He walked over to the couch, crouching beside it carefully.
“Jae,” he said gently, touching Youngjae’s shoulder. “Time to go, bud.”
Youngjae stirred, rubbing one eye sleepily. The hoodie slipped down from his shoulders, revealing messy hair and the flushed cheeks of a good nap.
He blinked up at the room, disoriented for a moment. “Hyung…,” he muttered.
“Hmm?” Both Hyunjoon and Hyeonjun responded immediately.
Youngjae pushed himself upright, legs still tangled in the hoodie. He looked over at Hyunjoon, then Hyeonjun, and then at his uncle.
“Oh,” he mumbled, remembering. “We’re going home?”
“That’s right,” the COO said.
Youngjae slid off the couch, yawning into the sleeve of the hoodie he hadn’t realised wasn’t his. He stepped forward, still sleepy but smiling.
Then, very deliberately, he walked up to Hyeonjun and wrapped his arms around him.
“Thank you for playing with me,” he said, his small voice muffled against Hyeonjun’s shoulder.
Hyeonjun froze for a split second, then wrapped his arms around the kid just as gently.
“Anytime, champ,” he said. “You’re scary good, you know.”
Youngjae giggled. Then he turned to Hyunjoon and did the same—wrapping his arms around his middle, face pressed into the side of Hyunjoon’s jacket.
“Thank you for helping me when I ate,” he whispered.
Hyunjoon’s hand settled on his back, steady and warm. “Come hang out again sometime.”
Youngjae looked up at both of them once more—still a little dazed, but clearly content—and then let his uncle lead him toward the door.
Just before they left, he turned around and waved, small fingers fluttering in the low light.
The room was quiet again.
Hyunjoon stood slowly, brushing off his hands.
Hyeonjun let out a long breath and stretched.
“…I like that kid,” he said finally.
“You like anyone who laughs at your jokes,” Hyunjoon replied, but the softness in his voice betrayed him.
“Still,” Hyunjoon said, glancing toward the now-empty doorway. “That was nice.”
“Yeah, it was.”
Hyeonjun’s room was quiet when they got back. They moved around each other without needing to speak. Wordlessly making their way to the toilet and showering together. Hyunjoon wore Hyeonjun’s oversized sleep shirt and sweats—he had his own clothes in Hyeonjun’s wardrobe but still preferred stealing his boyfriend’s clothes. And of course, Hyeonjun didn’t question it.
They settled into bed after doing their skincare, the room was dark except for the night lamp beside the bed. They lay side by side, barely any space between them.
“…He really knocked me out,” Hyeonjun said eventually, staring at the ceiling. “I’m still thinking about that banana bomb.”
“He’s really skilled,” Hyunjoon murmured. “I think he’s on the same level as Uijin hyung.”
Hyunjoon smiled faintly. “You’re proud of him.”
“He was kind.”
“Yeah,” Hyunjoon said. “He reminded me of you, actually.”
Hyeonjun was quiet for a moment, then said, “You think so?”
“The way he watched first. Took his time. Asked smart questions. Even the way he leaned into people without realising.”
“…He was sweet.”
“Really sweet.”
Another pause. Outside, a motorbike passed the building. The room hummed with quiet air.
Then Hyeonjun finally spoke the question that had been on his mind—his voice barely above a whisper.
“Do you ever think about it?” he asked.
Hyunjoon turned his head slightly on the pillow. “About what?”
Hyeonjun didn’t look at him. “Having one of our own. Someday.”
Hyunjoon blinked.
The question didn’t come out heavy — it wasn’t weighted with expectation or pressure. Just a gentle kind of wondering. Like Hyeonjun was pulling it out of somewhere quiet, like he wasn’t even sure if he meant to say it out loud.
“You mean... a kid?” Hyunjoon asked, voice softer now.
Hyeonjun nodded once. “Not now. Not even soon. Just… ever.”
Hyunjoon didn’t answer right away.
He looked up again, eyes tracing the faint shadows on the ceiling. He thought about Youngjae’s tiny arms around his neck. About the way Hyeonjun had picked him up like he’d done it before. About the warmth that had stayed in his chest long after the boy left the room.
“Yeah,” he said eventually. “I do.”
“I’ve thought about it too,” Hyeonjun said. “Not just the idea—but with you. I’ve pictured it, even before this.”
Hyunjoon looked away, suddenly overwhelmed by how much that meant. How quietly brave it was to say that. To admit Hyeonjun had imagined that kind of future—with him.
“I’ve had thoughts about it too,” Hyunjoon whispered. “Raising a kid seems scary and I think it will forever be.”
Another quiet pause.
Then he whispered, barely audible: “But if it was with you... I think I’d want it too, it doesn’t seem as scary if I’m with you.”
He felt Hyeonjun’s hand find his waist under the blanket, pulling him in closer.
“It’s not something I let myself imagine often,” he admitted, voice quiet. “It always felt like… something I shouldn’t want.”
“And now?”
Hyunjoon swallowed. “Now… it doesn’t feel so far away.”
He reached down and brushed his fingers across his own stomach—a small, instinctive gesture, almost unconscious. Hyeonjun followed the movement with his eyes.
“I’d be scared,” Hyunjoon said. “But with you... I wouldn’t be alone.”
“You wouldn’t,” Hyeonjun said. “Not for a second.”
There was something heavier behind his voice now. Not just care—it sounded like a promise.
Hyunjoon’s gaze flicked down to Hyeonjun’s hand resting between them. He reached out for them, interlocking their fingers.
“I’m not saying I want it now,” Hyunjoon murmured. “But if you ever asked—seriously…” His voice trailed off, not out of doubt, but out of how much he meant it.
Hyeonjun leaned in just slightly, close enough for his breath to warm Hyunjoon’s cheek. “I’d never ask unless I was ready to hold all of it with you,” he whispered.
Then Hyunjoon turned his face toward him, their lips almost brushing now. The quiet between them turned heavier, but not with silence—it was anticipation. Their hands stayed clasped under the blanket. But their mouths found each other moments later—slow, close, unhurried. Not rushed. Not claiming. Just the soft kind of kiss that says: I see this future too.
Their kiss faded slowly, lips lingering a little longer than necessary, like neither wanted to pull away first. And when they did, they stayed close, their nose rubbing against each other’s, breaths shared in the narrow space between them. Hyeonjun’s hand was still wrapped gently around Hyunjoon’s fingers under the blanket, thumb stroking idly over a knuckle.
Then Hyeonjun murmured, his voice hushed and barely hiding the grin beneath it:
“…You know, if you’re serious about carrying pups one day, you’re gonna have to start eating more than two bites of lunch.”
Hyunjoon blinked. “What—”
“You’re too skinny,” Hyeonjun said, mock-stern. “Too fragile. Where are we gonna fit anything in there?”
Hyunjoon groaned softly, hiding half his face behind the blanket. “Don’t say it like that. You’re going to ruin the mood.”
“I’m serious!” Hyeonjun teased. “You’d need to be healthier. Build up your strength. More snacks, more vegetables, fewer energy drinks. And you’d have to sleep earlier—”
“I finish my food on most days.”
“Not enough to build a nest in your belly,” Hyeonjun muttered, clearly enjoying himself now.
Hyunjoon swatted his arm lightly, laughing despite himself. “Stop. Nest? You’re thinking too far ahead.”
Hyeonjun leaned closer, grinning. “Maybe I’m doing research.”
Hyunjoon gave him a flat look, but he was smiling—cheeks warm, not just from embarrassment.
Then Hyeonjun’s voice dropped lower, almost absentmindedly:
“…But really, if that ever happens—I want you to feel strong. Safe. Wanted.”
The joking melted into something softer.
Hyunjoon looked at him for a long moment. Then he whispered, “With you, I think I already am.”
And in the hush of that Sunday night, beneath warm sheets and unspoken dreams, Hyunjoon let himself think—
Maybe one day, my body could hold something we made.
And maybe we could have a small family of our own.