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The morning light was pale and muted, filtered through the hospital blinds in thin lines across the floor. Everything smelled faintly of antiseptic and warm linen. Machines beeped quietly in the background, steady and unobtrusive.

Yuta stirred in the bed, groggy, body aching in deep places that hadn’t even existed before. He blinked up at the ceiling for a moment, disoriented, then slowly turned his head.

The bassinet stood nearby.

Their daughter was sleeping inside, tiny hands curled into fists, her breathing slow and rhythmic. One pink sock had twisted slightly off her foot during the night.

A breath escaped Yuta’s chest,  half a sigh, half a soft, tired laugh.

She was real. She was here.

He turned the other way and saw Johnny curled in the plastic hospital recliner, hoodie pulled over his head, long legs awkwardly folded, sleeping like he hadn’t even noticed how uncomfortable he was. There was a disposable coffee cup beside him, and one of the nurses had tossed a thin blanket over his lap sometime during the night.

Yuta smiled for a moment… then blinked quickly as emotion rose like a tide in his throat.

He shifted in bed with some difficulty, wincing, and the sound roused Johnny.

“Mm…..hey,” Johnny mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Yuta said softly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Johnny yawned. “I wasn’t really asleep.”

“You were snoring.”

Johnny grinned and stood up, stretching his arms overhead. “Loudly, I hope. Mark of good fatherhood.”

Yuta gave a tired laugh but didn’t quite meet his eyes.

Johnny noticed. “What’s going on?”

Yuta hesitated. His hand rested protectively over his stomach  over the ache where she used to be. He looked toward the bassinet again, watching her sleep.

“We finally have her,” he said. “After everything. All those months. All the doctors. All the waiting. The failed attempts. The silence. We finally have her.”

Johnny nodded slowly, stepping closer. “Yeah. We do.”

Yuta’s voice dropped. “And I don’t know if I’m going to be enough.”

Johnny blinked. “Yuta…”

“I know everyone says that. ‘You’re going to be great, you’re already doing so well,’ but” Yuta swallowed, his eyes shining with exhaustion, not quite tears. “I already feel like I’m behind. Like I should be feeling more. Doing more. She’s out in the world now, and I’m scared I used up all my strength just getting her here.”

Johnny didn’t say anything yet. He just sat down on the edge of the bed, quietly.

Yuta kept going. “What if I can’t give her what she needs? What if I mess this up? What if I shut down or fade out or turn into someone who just floats through it all and she grows up thinking that’s normal?”

“Yuta,” Johnny said, voice low and steady, “look at me.”

Yuta did.

“You didn’t float through anything,” Johnny said. “You fought through it. You carried her when it hurt. You carried her when you couldn’t sleep. You carried her when you were scared out of your mind. And now that she’s here, you’re still showing up  even with nothing left in the tank.”

Yuta looked down. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”

“Because it never will. Not to someone like you. You’ve always given more than you had to me, to your work, to everyone. But this isn’t a performance. This isn’t something to master. This is just… showing up, every day. Even when it’s ugly. Even when it’s boring. Even when it’s too much.”

Johnny reached out and took his hand.

“And if you ever can’t? I’ll be there. Not to take over just to hold you steady until you can again.”

Yuta swallowed hard, then leaned forward,  slow and carefully resting his head against Johnny’s chest. Johnny held him, arms gentle, nothing grand about the moment. Just skin, heartbeat, breath.

“Do you think she’ll like us?” Yuta asked, his voice barely audible.

“I think,” Johnny murmured, “she’ll love you. Instinctively. Without hesitation. Because she’ll know what I know, which is that you are the safest place she’ll ever have.”

They sat like that for a long time. Eventually, the baby stirred. A small sound, then another, then a fussing cry that broke through the quiet.

Johnny stood first, ready to move  but Yuta reached out and gently touched his arm.

“I got it.”

“You sure?”

Yuta nodded. “I want to. I need to.”

He slid out of bed slowly, aching and stiff, but determined. He walked toward the bassinet, lifted her carefully into his arms, and whispered something only she would hear.

Johnny stood behind him, arms crossed over his chest, watching them.

And in that moment, Yuta didn’t feel strong. He didn’t feel certain.

But he felt present.

And for now, that was enough.

-

The door clicked shut behind them with a soft finality.

Yuta stood just inside the entryway, still in the oversized hoodie he wore when they left the hospital that morning. He stared ahead, eyes scanning the apartment like it was a place he hadn’t seen in years even though it had only been four days.

Johnny set down the diaper bag and looked over his shoulder. “You okay?”

Yuta didn’t answer. He just gave a tiny nod and moved deeper into the living room, holding their daughter in his arms.

The apartment smelled faintly like laundry detergent and the leftover soup Taeyong had dropped off while they were gone. Everything was in its place. The bassinet had been set up. The changing station stocked. The little socks and onesies neatly folded in the drawer.

It was all ready.

But he wasn’t.

He walked slowly to the couch and sat down, holding the baby close, almost protectively, as if the apartment might collapse around them at any second.

Johnny joined him a moment later, gently pulling off his shoes and kneeling in front of him. “You sure you don’t want to rest? I can hold her for a bit.”

Yuta shook his head. “I don’t want to let go yet.”

Johnny didn’t press. He just sat beside them quietly, his eyes moving from Yuta to the baby, his hand resting softly on Yuta’s knee.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

The baby squirmed in Yuta’s arms, letting out a little whimper. Not a cry just a sound. A reminder she was here. Real. Fragile. The center of everything now.

“She’s so small,” Yuta whispered, voice cracked from exhaustion.

Johnny nodded. “Yeah.”

“She was inside me a few days ago. And now she’s… here.”

Yuta’s throat tightened, and suddenly he wasn’t sure what he felt. Overwhelmed? Terrified? Grateful? Hollow?

“She deserves better than me,” he murmured.

“Hey,” Johnny said immediately, his voice steady but soft. “Don’t do that.”

“I’m serious,” Yuta said, eyes filling. “Look at me. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t even know if I can do this. She’s so perfect and I’m so….”

“Human,” Johnny said.

Yuta looked at him.

“You’re human, Yuta. And you carried her. You kept her safe when no one else could. You gave her life. There is nothing more than that.”

The tears came faster now, silently streaking down Yuta’s face as he looked down at his daughter.

“I’m scared,” he whispered.

“I know,” Johnny replied. “Me too. But we’re in this together. You’re not doing it alone.”

Yuta leaned into him, careful not to jostle the baby. Johnny wrapped his arm around him, warm and solid.

In that moment, nothing was fixed. The doubts didn’t disappear. The fear didn’t vanish. But there, in the quiet of their home, for the first time as three something shifted.

They were a family.

-

The apartment was quieter than Yuta expected it to be.

He sat on the edge of their bed, the nursery monitor on the nightstand crackling with soft static and the occasional breathy sigh from the sleeping baby. The walls still smelled faintly of lavender from the diffuser Johnny insisted on getting to help Yuta sleep, though sleep had become an elusive thing lately, especially now.

Yuta ran his fingers through his disheveled hair and stared at the folded laundry that he hadn’t touched since yesterday. His chest felt heavy, but not in the physical way it used to when he was still carrying their child. This was different. A quiet weight, invisible but inescapable.

The baby had been born three weeks ago.

Three weeks of crying, feeding, rocking, and more crying. Three weeks of watching Johnny adapt with calm steadiness, always showing up, always doing his best meanwhile, Yuta sometimes struggled just to look at himself in the mirror.

The scar on his lower abdomen was healing well, the doctor had said. But Yuta still caught himself tugging his shirt lower to cover it. He still sometimes sat in the dark at 3 a.m. after a feeding and wondered if he was enough. If he was built for this. If he was failing somehow and just no one had told him yet.

“Hey,” came Johnny’s voice from the doorway, low and cautious. He was holding a mug, steam curling from the top. “You didn’t drink the tea I left for you.”

Yuta didn’t answer right away. He just looked down at his hands, pale and tired.

Johnny crossed the room and sat next to him. He placed the mug on the nightstand and gently brushed Yuta’s hand with his thumb.

“You okay?”

Yuta blinked. “I’m tired.”

Johnny nodded. “I know.”

“No,” Yuta said softly, “I mean… tired in a way that doesn’t go away when I sleep. Or when I eat. Or when I see our baby smiling.”

Johnny was quiet for a moment, then placed his arm around Yuta’s back, guiding him to lean against his shoulder. “You don’t have to feel okay all the time. I’m right here. We’re figuring it out together.”

“But you’re doing better than me,” Yuta muttered. “You’re so calm. You always know what to do. I feel like I’m… lost in it. Like I’m watching myself from the outside.”

Johnny exhaled slowly. “You carried a whole life inside you, Yuta. That changed you. That changes people. And now, you’re learning how to be someone new. Of course it’s going to be hard.”

Yuta closed his eyes. “What if I’m not good at this?”

“You are,” Johnny said. “You already are. Even when it’s hard. Especially then.”

Silence settled between them for a while. From the monitor, a tiny whimper echoed, and Yuta tensed.

“I’ll go,” Johnny offered, standing up.

But Yuta shook his head and stood, slower, a bit uncertain. “No. Let me. I need to hold her.”

Johnny stepped aside and watched as Yuta walked to the nursery, body still recovering, heart still unsure but moving forward.

The baby was lying in the crib, fists curled up near her face, legs kicking lightly beneath the thin blanket. Her eyes fluttered but didn’t quite open. She was between states, not quite awake, not fully asleep.

Yuta reached down and lifted her into his arms with careful hands. She stirred, a soft noise escaping her mouth, but didn’t cry. He pressed her gently against his chest, felt the warmth of her cheek against his collarbone. Her body was small but solid. Real.

He rocked her slowly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The motion was instinctive now, almost automatic. She settled quickly.

He stood there with her for a while. Not saying anything. Not thinking beyond the next breath.

Then, once her breathing slowed again, he lowered her back into the crib, smoothing a hand over her blanket and brushing her hair away from her forehead with his thumb.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t cry.

He just stood there for a moment longer, watching her sleep. Then he turned off the light and went back to the bedroom.

-

The living room was a mess. Bottles on the counter, laundry half folded on the couch, the baby wailing in the nursery.

Johnny’s voice cut through the noise, low but sharp. “Yuta, just let me handle it.”

“No!” Yuta snapped, arms stiff as he walked past Johnny. “You already did everything else today, right? Might as well take this too.”

Johnny frowned, stepping into the hallway. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Yuta paused at the nursery door, back turned. “It means I feel useless. It means I feel like I’m just… here. Floating around while you do all the real parenting.”

The silence that followed was thick.

“Yuta,” Johnny said carefully, “that’s not fair. I’m not trying to take over. I’m just trying to help.”

Yuta turned around, eyes red-rimmed and tired. “And you don’t think that hurts? That it doesn’t kill me every time I see you doing it better than me? She stops crying when you hold her. She looks at you like she already knows who you are. I’m the one who carried her, and she still won’t calm down with me.”

Johnny stepped closer, frustration creeping into his voice. “You think I’m not scared too? You think I have some kind of manual hidden somewhere? I’m just doing what I can, same as you.”

“But it’s easier for you,” Yuta said, voice cracking. “You’re still you. I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I’m always angry. Or tired. Or crying. Or nothing.”

Johnny’s jaw tensed. “And I’m here, trying to hold this family together while you push me away.”

That stung.

Yuta’s eyes flashed, but he didn’t yell. His voice dropped low. “Do you think I want to be like this?”

Johnny looked at him, carefully, then said, “I think you’re carrying more than anyone should have to. And I think trying to carry it alone is making it worse.”

Yuta stiffened.

Johnny stepped closer. “Let me carry some of it with you. I don’t need to fix it. I just want to be in it with you.”

Yuta looked at him for a long moment, and then broke down. Shoulders shaking, he slid to the floor right there in the hallway.

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” he whispered.

Johnny knelt beside him instantly, pulling him into his arms.

“You’re Yuta,” he said into his hair. “You’re my Yuta. And we’re gonna find our way back together. Not perfectly. Not quickly. But we’ll get there.”

The baby’s cries softened behind them in the nursery, like even she sensed the tension dissolving into something tender.

-

The apartment had settled into silence.

The baby was finally asleep, her tiny chest rising and falling in slow rhythm under the soft night light. The hallway, the kitchen, the living room, everything was dim. Still. As if the home itself had been holding its breath, waiting for something to give.

Yuta sat on the edge of the bed in the dark, arms wrapped around himself, his hoodie sleeves pulled down over his hands. He hadn’t changed out of the clothes he wore during the fight. He hadn’t said much since.

The door creaked open, and Johnny entered quietly. No words, no expectations, just presence.

He set a glass of water on the bedside table. He didn’t ask if Yuta was okay. He didn’t try to fix it right away.

He just sat beside him.

For a long while, neither of them spoke. The air between them buzzed faintly, heavy but not hostile anymore, just tired.

“I’m sorry,” Yuta said, voice thin. “For what I said earlier. For all of it.”

Johnny shook his head slowly. “You were being honest. That’s not something you have to apologize for.”

Yuta looked down at his lap, fingers nervously picking at the hem of his sleeve. “I’m scared, Johnny. All the time. I wake up and I’m scared. I walk past the mirror and don’t know who I’m looking at. I hold her and feel like she deserves someone stronger, someone better. And then I feel guilty for feeling that.”

Johnny exhaled and reached for Yuta’s hand, slowly, like asking permission. Yuta let him take it.

“I know I can’t fully understand what you went through. But I see you. I see how hard you’re trying, even when you think you’re not. I see how much you love her how much you love us.”

He paused, brushing his thumb gently over Yuta’s knuckles.

“I’m scared too, Yuta. I just… I don’t show it the same way. But I miss you. Not just before the baby you. You now. And I don’t want to do this without all of you messy parts, sad parts, doubting parts. All of it.”

Yuta’s eyes shimmered, tears quietly falling down his cheeks. “I feel so far away from you sometimes.”

Johnny leaned in, resting their foreheads together. “Then let me come to you.”

There were no grand declarations, no sweeping promises. Just two people sitting in the dark, hearts bruised but still reaching for each other. Still choosing each other.

Yuta shifted, wrapping his arms around Johnny’s middle, burying his face in his chest. Johnny held him tight, not letting go.

“I don’t want to be okay all on my own,” Yuta whispered.

“You don’t have to be,” Johnny said. “Not now. Not ever.”

-

Yuta sat on the closed lid of the toilet, hands tucked under his thighs, shoulders hunched. He couldn’t look at the test. It sat on the counter, facedown on a crumpled tissue. Three minutes left.

He hated how still everything felt. How the silence was thicker now than it had been the last time. And the time before that. The waiting got harder. Not easier.

Johnny stood across from him, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes on the floor. Like if he looked at Yuta too long, it might unravel him.

Yuta spoke first. Voice small, like if he whispered, it might hurt less.

“You think this was the last one?”

Johnny looked up, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Yuta cleared his throat. “I mean maybe this is it. Maybe it’s not meant to happen for us.”

“Don’t say that.”

Yuta shrugged one shoulder, avoiding his eyes. “Why not? We say everything else.”

Johnny didn’t answer. Not yet.

Yuta leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands threading through his damp hair. “I did everything right. I followed the schedule. I took hormones. I changed my diet. I let people poke me with needles and measure things and talk about my body like it’s some kind of stubborn machine. And every time I think this might finally be it, it’s just” He stopped himself.

Still not looking at Johnny. “I’m tired of getting my hopes up.”

Johnny crossed the room and sat on the edge of the tub beside him. Close. Not touching yet.

“We don’t have to look today,” Johnny offered.

Yuta laughed once, sharp and joyless. “What’s the point in waiting? It’s always the same answer.”

He stood, slowly, legs stiff from sitting, and turned over the test with a trembling hand.

One line.

He didn’t react at first.

Just stared at it like it didn’t register. Like he was reading something in a language he used to understand but forgot somewhere along the way.

Johnny stood too. “Yuta…”

“It’s negative.”

“I know.”

Yuta swallowed. His voice broke. “I really thought this one would work. I let myself picture it.”

“I did too.”

That was all it took.

Yuta’s knees gave slightly, and Johnny caught him before he hit the floor. He didn’t cry loudly. It wasn’t that kind of grief. It was quieter than that. More hollow. Like he was disappearing inside himself.

Johnny held him on the cold bathroom tile, rocking them gently as the rain picked up outside.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Yuta said into his chest. “I can’t keep doing this to us.”

“You’re not doing anything to us,” Johnny said firmly. “You’re fighting for us. Every time.”

“But what if I can’t give you what we want?”

Johnny pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. “Then we figure it out. Together. You don’t owe me a child to be loved, Yuta. You already are.”

Yuta blinked hard, tears finally spilling over.

“I just wanted to give you a family.”

“You already are my family.”

Johnny kissed his forehead slow and certain. And they stayed like that for a while. Huddled on the bathroom floor, two hearts heavy with another loss. Nothing fixed. Nothing hopeful yet. Just together in the middle of it.

-

The apartment was dim when Johnny stepped in, the soft sound of humming drawing him toward the living room. He set his bag down quietly by the door, kicked off his shoes, and paused for a second to listen.

Yuta’s voice drifted softly from the couch.

Low. Breathless. A little hoarse from the long day.

He was singing something in Japanese, something slow and half whispered not for performance, not for anyone else, just for the tiny girl tucked into his arms.

Hope lay curled in the crook of his elbow, her tiny hands clumsily gripping the edge of the bottle. Her eyes were barely open, long lashes fluttering with sleep. She wasn’t drinking so much as resting, safe and warm in the rhythm of her father’s voice.

Yuta didn’t notice Johnny right away. His focus was entirely on her, his head tilted slightly, lips brushing the top of her head between lines. His shirt was rumpled, his hair unwashed, dark circles painted beneath his eyes like he hadn’t slept properly in days.

And still, he held her like she was the most fragile thing in the world.

Johnny felt something catch in his chest.

There had been so many nights like this before,  nights with tears on bathroom tiles, negative tests, soft apologies neither of them meant but said anyway. Nights where Yuta buried himself in silence, too ashamed of his grief to name it out loud. And Johnny could only hold him, helpless, telling him over and over, You’re not broken. We’ll find our way through.

And now, here he was.

Exhausted. Worn down to the edges. But holding their daughter. Singing for her. Loving her like he had from the beginning.

“Hey,” Johnny said softly.

Yuta looked up, startled, like he hadn’t even heard the door.

“You’re home,” he said, voice scratchy.

Johnny walked over slowly and sat down beside them on the couch, watching Hope’s mouth lazily close around the bottle.

“She been okay today?” he asked.

Yuta nodded. “Fussy earlier. Slept a little. I think she’s growing again.”

Johnny leaned over and kissed the top of her head, then looked at Yuta. “You look wrecked.”

Yuta gave a small laugh. “Thanks.”

“I mean it in the ‘you’ve been doing too much again’ way,” Johnny said. “Let me take her.”

Yuta instinctively tightened his grip, pulling her in a little closer. “She’s almost done.”

“Yuta.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not. You haven’t slept properly in two days. You need rest.”

Yuta didn’t look at him. “I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

Johnny reached out and touched his knee, gentle but firm. “She is okay. She’s more than okay. And it’s because of you. But that doesn’t mean you have to burn yourself out to prove it.”

Yuta hesitated. He looked down at her again, her small, perfect face, her little fingers now relaxing against his chest. His shoulders slumped.

“Can we stay here?” he asked, barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to sleep in the other room. I want to be close to her.”

Johnny’s answer was immediate. “Of course.”

Carefully, he reached for Hope, and Yuta let go, slower than he needed to. His arms lingered even after Johnny had already taken her.

Johnny held her against his chest, one hand cradling the back of her head. She shifted slightly, letting out a soft sigh, then settled.

Yuta leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes.

Johnny looked at them both, his daughter in his arms, his partner beside him, barely awake, carrying more love and more fatigue than words could hold.

He didn’t say anything more. He just adjusted the blanket on the couch, tucked it around Yuta’s legs, and shifted Hope gently until she was nestled in the middle of both of them.

Then he leaned his head back and exhaled.

-

It was just past 3:00 a.m. when Johnny stirred.

He reached out instinctively, hand brushing cool sheets.

Empty.

He blinked, still heavy with sleep, and sat up slowly, listening. The apartment was quiet except for the soft hum of the night, the low hum of the refrigerator, a creak in the wall. No crying.

But Yuta wasn’t there.

Johnny rubbed his eyes, pulled on his hoodie, and padded softly down the hallway. The nursery door was slightly ajar, a thin stripe of warm light spilling across the floor.

He approached quietly, not wanting to startle anyone  and stopped at the doorway.

Yuta was inside, his back to the door, standing over the crib. Barefoot. Hair messy. One sleeve of his oversized sleep shirt falling off his shoulder. In his arms, their daughter stirred gently, half awake.

And Yuta… was singing to her again.

Softly. Barely louder than a breath.

A lullaby in Japanese, slow and warm. His voice cracked on some notes from exhaustion, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t performing. He wasn’t trying to be perfect. He was just… there. A quiet presence in the dark, rocking her gently, forehead pressed against hers as he sang.

Johnny didn’t move.

He didn’t dare.

Something sacred was unfolding in that room. Something he didn’t want to break with sound or breath.

And then,

“Achoo.”

A tiny sneeze pierced the stillness.

Yuta froze for a second… then laughed.

A soft, breathy, surprised little laugh. The kind that caught in his chest like it hadn’t been used in a while. He kissed the baby’s cheek and whispered something in Japanese Johnny couldn’t quite hear, but he didn’t need to.

He got it.

Johnny smiled to himself, ready to turn away and give them their moment. But then Yuta looked up just a little  and caught him in the doorway.

Their eyes met.

Yuta didn’t look embarrassed. Didn’t rush to explain. He just shifted the baby gently in his arms and whispered, “She sneezed.”

Johnny grinned. “I heard.”

Yuta hesitated… then tilted his head slightly. “Come in.”

Johnny stepped inside slowly, moving toward them like someone entering a sacred space. He reached a hand out and gently touched the baby’s tiny fist where it rested against Yuta’s chest.

“She okay?” he asked softly.

Yuta nodded. “I think so. Just startled her a little.”

“You okay?” Johnny asked, looking up at him.

Yuta looked down at their daughter and nodded again. “Yeah. I… I needed this. Just her. Me. Quiet.”

Johnny pressed a kiss to Yuta’s temple. “I’m glad she has your voice.”

Yuta let out a small breath. “I think I’m finally starting to believe she has me, too. For real.”

They stood there for a while, not saying much. Just breathing together, listening to the faint sounds of the city sleeping outside their windows. Johnny rested his chin on Yuta’s shoulder, arms wrapped around both of them.

“Hey,” Johnny whispered, brushing a hand over the baby’s dark hair. “She’s going to remember this. Not the song, maybe. Not this exact moment. But she’ll remember that her first home was your arms. Your voice.”

Yuta swallowed hard.

Then leaned his head back just enough to rest it against Johnny’s.

“Stay with us?” he asked.

“Always.”

-

The stroller clicked into place with a sound that was louder than Yuta expected. He double-checked the straps again, adjusting the canopy even though it was already positioned right.

“Do you think she’s too bundled?” Yuta asked, his hand hovering over the blanket tucked around Hope’s legs.

“It’s spring,” Johnny replied, zipping up his jacket. “Not summer. She’ll be fine.”

Yuta looked down at Hope again, her little hat slipping slightly over her eyes, her face calm but unreadable. It was only a walk. Just a short one. Down the street, maybe a coffee stop. Fifteen minutes. Twenty, tops.

Still, his chest was tight.

The elevator ride felt longer than usual. Johnny was talking about something, the neighbor’s new dog, or how weirdly quiet the lobby had been that morning, but Yuta barely registered it. His eyes stayed on Hope, even as she slept, even as she did nothing at all.

Outside, the air was cool but gentle. The city didn’t care that it was their first time outside as a family. Traffic passed. People walked their dogs. Someone was arguing on the phone by the corner. Life continued as if nothing monumental was happening.

Yuta kept one hand lightly on the stroller handle, not pushing, just steadying. Johnny was the one doing the actual steering. Their steps weren’t quite in sync, but they kept close enough.

They turned onto a quieter side street. Less noise. More room to breathe.

“I feel like everyone’s looking at us,” Yuta said, glancing around.

“They’re not,” Johnny said.

Yuta didn’t answer right away. “What if she cries?”

“Then she cries.”

“What if I can’t calm her down?”

“Then we figure it out.”

They walked in silence for a few more steps.

Yuta sighed. “I didn’t think I’d be this anxious.”

“I did,” Johnny said. “You’ve been practicing how to leave the apartment for a week.”

Yuta gave a soft, reluctant laugh.

They stopped at a small bench near a quiet bakery. Johnny ducked inside to get coffee while Yuta stayed by the stroller, crouching a little to peek under the canopy.

Hope’s eyes were open now. Not crying, not fussing. Just looking up at nothing in particular. Her mouth moved a little, a small sound forming in her throat, but she didn’t cry.

Yuta reached in and gently touched her hand. “Hey,” he whispered. “We made it outside. How about that?”

She blinked at him.

He felt his throat tighten, not from panic, just something softer. Tiredness. Pride, maybe. Or something that didn’t have a name yet.

Johnny came back, two coffees in hand. “Still doing okay?”

Yuta nodded, taking the cup. “She’s awake.”

Johnny leaned down and smiled at her. “She’s probably judging us.”

“Probably.”

They stayed like that for a while. Just sitting. Sipping coffee. Letting the stroller rock a little when the breeze pushed it gently against Johnny’s knee.

Nothing huge happened. Hope didn’t cry. No strangers came to compliment her. No sudden realization or dramatic moment. It was just a walk, a stop for coffee, and a small corner of the world where things felt quiet for once.

-

By the time they got home, Hope had fallen asleep again, her head slumped gently to one side in the stroller. Her tiny fists were still clenched. The city had been louder on the way back, and Yuta had pulled the canopy down lower, tensing every time a car honked too close.

Inside the apartment, everything felt more still than it had before. Johnny locked the door behind them and slid off his shoes with a long exhale.

Yuta hovered near the stroller, hands already moving to undo the straps.

“I’ve got it,” Johnny said, setting the keys down. “You should sit down. You’ve been tense since we stepped outside.”

“I’m fine.” Yuta already had Hope in his arms. “She needs a bath anyway.”

“She didn’t even touch the sidewalk.”

“She was out. I want to wash her hair.”

Johnny didn’t argue. He just nodded, following them down the hall.

In the bathroom, Yuta rolled up his sleeves and filled the small baby tub they kept under the sink. The water ran warm, not hot, and he swirled it with his fingers three times before he was satisfied. Hope had started to fuss a little now, half-awake, legs stretching, lips pursed.

“It’s alright,” Yuta whispered, brushing her cheek. “Just a quick one.”

He undressed her slowly, methodically, as if one wrong pull of her sleeve might hurt her. Johnny watched from the doorway, arms crossed, silent.

The bath was short. Hope made one soft cry, but quieted when Yuta poured warm water over her stomach in slow streams. He wiped behind her ears, under her arms, between her fingers. Every movement was careful. Nothing rushed.

Afterward, he wrapped her in a soft towel, held her against his chest, and walked her to the nursery without saying a word.

The room was dim, the white noise machine humming gently in the corner. Yuta dressed her again, adjusting the onesie twice before finally zipping it closed. Then he held her for a while, sitting in the rocker by the crib, her head tucked beneath his chin.

He didn’t speak, and he didn’t sing either. He just breathed with her.

Eventually, he stood up and laid her in the crib. She stirred, but didn’t cry. Just shifted, sighed, and stilled again.

Johnny leaned against the doorframe, arms folded.

“She didn’t scream. That’s a win,” he said quietly.

Yuta turned around, rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. I guess.”

“You were so nervous earlier. See? It was fine.”

Yuta didn’t answer right away. He glanced back at the crib, adjusted the corner of the blanket even though it didn’t need adjusting.

“I know,” he said finally. “But I’m still anxious. All the time.”

Johnny stepped into the room. “That’s normal.”

“It’s not just that,” Yuta said. “We waited so long for her. Years. Every time I look at her, I remember all of it. The appointments. The failed tests. The waiting. And now she’s here, and I keep thinking… what if I mess it up? What if we lose our chance to do it right?”

Johnny leaned against the dresser, watching him.

“You’re not going to mess it up,” he said. “You’re allowed to be tired. You’re allowed to not know what you’re doing sometimes. That doesn’t mean you’re failing.”

“I keep feeling like I have to prove something.”

“To who?”

Yuta didn’t answer. He sat down on the edge of the crib, hands clasped, elbows on his knees.

Johnny came over and sat beside him. “She doesn’t need perfect. She just needs you. You’re here. You show up. You hold her. You care. That’s it. That’s what matters.”

Yuta let out a slow breath, not quite a sigh. He looked tired in a way that didn’t come from just lack of sleep.

“You’re doing a good job,” Johnny added. “Even when it doesn’t feel like it.”

They sat there for a while. Neither said much. The white noise continued in the background, steady and soft. From the crib came the quiet rhythm of Hope’s breath, barely audible.

Yuta leaned his head lightly against Johnny’s shoulder.

“I just want to do right by her.”

“You are.”

Yuta didn’t say anything else, and Johnny didn’t push. After a few minutes, they stood up together, one last glance at Hope before they turned off the light.

Back in the hallway, Johnny asked, “You want to lie down for a bit?”

Yuta nodded.

“Couch or bed?”

“Couch. Closer.”

Johnny nodded too. “Couch it is.”

In the living room, the TV was still on. Some documentary was playing, the volume low enough to blend with the soft hum of the monitor from the nursery. Neither of them was really watching.

They sat on the couch, side by side. Johnny held the remote in one hand,  Yuta pulled a blanket over his legs and leaned back against the cushions.

It didn’t take long.

One moment he was sitting upright, quiet, hands in his lap. The next, his head had tilted against Johnny’s shoulder. Breath evened out. Completely out.

Johnny didn’t move right away. He let him sleep there for a while, watching the screen without seeing it, listening to Yuta’s steady breathing.

Eventually, he muted the TV and looked down.

Yuta’s face looked softer in sleep, the tension gone for now. His fingers twitched slightly like he was still holding on to something.

Johnny shifted, careful not to wake him, and slid one arm behind Yuta’s shoulders, the other under his knees. It took effort not to bump anything as he stood. Yuta didn’t wake. He just let out a small breath and leaned unconsciously into Johnny’s chest.

The hallway was dark, lit only by the soft glow of the nursery nightlight. Hope’s breathing hummed gently through the monitor.

In the bedroom, Johnny pulled back the covers and laid Yuta down slowly. He adjusted the pillow beneath his head, tucked the blanket in around him, then paused.

He stood for a moment, watching.

Yuta’s face was calm now. Not completely rested, not yet. But quiet.

Johnny brushed a few strands of hair off his forehead, then stepped out, leaving the door open just enough to hear if either of them needed him.

-

It was just after nine when the dishes were finally done and the house fell into its usual nighttime rhythm.

Hope had gone down surprisingly easily that evening, her bottle finished without a fuss, her body gone soft and warm in Yuta’s arms before he’d even made it to the crib. No second wind, no hour-long rocking session. Just quiet breathing and the soft weight of sleep.

Now the apartment was still.

Yuta stepped into the living room with damp hair, wearing a worn out shirt Johnny had probably owned in college. He found Johnny on the couch, legs stretched out, the lamp beside him casting a soft yellow glow across the room. A half read book rested on his lap, fingers lightly pinching the edge of the page, but he wasn’t reading.

He was looking at Yuta.

“What?” Yuta asked, sitting beside him.

Johnny didn’t answer right away. He just reached over, tugged gently at the hem of Yuta’s shirt like he was grounding himself.

“You okay?” Yuta asked.

“Yeah,” Johnny said. “Just… this is the first time we’ve sat like this in days.”

Yuta let out a short breath. “Feels like longer.”

Johnny closed the book, set it aside. “You remember when we used to come home from work and just lie on the floor like idiots?”

“We were broke. The floor was all we had.”

Johnny smiled. “It wasn’t bad though.”

“No,” Yuta said, settling beside him, pulling the blanket over both their legs. “It wasn’t.”

For a while, neither of them spoke. The soft hum of the fridge filled the silence. In the monitor on the table, Hope’s breathing was steady, rhythmic.

Yuta leaned back into the cushions and tilted his head toward Johnny. “She smiled at me today.”

Johnny turned his head. “Yeah?”

“Like, really smiled. I wasn’t even doing anything. Just changing her and talking to myself. And then she looked at me like I’d just told the best joke in the world.”

Johnny didn’t say anything. He just nodded, his eyes softer than before.

“It was stupid,” Yuta added.

“No, it wasn’t.”

They sat with it for a minute, the quiet kind of full that didn’t need filling.

Johnny eventually reached over and took Yuta’s hand, thumb brushing over his knuckles.

“I know we’re tired,” he said. “And I know it’s been a lot. But I like this life with you.”

Yuta leaned his head against Johnny’s shoulder. “Me too.”

-

The courtyard outside the art building was half-shadow, half-sunlight. It was early afternoon, and students were scattered around the stone benches and cracked pavement, the air smelling faintly of paint thinner and too-sweet coffee.

Johnny had been looking for Taeyong for twenty minutes already. He’d checked their usual spot by the vending machines and even stuck his head into the studio, but no luck.

When he finally spotted him, it was by chance tucked in a corner near the low stone wall, sitting on the grass like he had nowhere else in the world to be. Taeyong had his legs folded under him, hands moving as he spoke, animated and mid story.

That’s when Johnny heard it.

A laugh,  bright and loud and slightly raspy, like it had caught the person off guard. Not Taeyong’s. Someone else’s.

Johnny followed the sound, and that’s when he saw him.

Yuta was sitting beside Taeyong, one leg stretched out, the other bent lazily at the knee. His hair was dyed a sharp red, the kind of color that demanded attention without asking for it. His jeans were torn at the knees, not in the lazy factory way, but like they’d been worn that way over time. Rings glinted on his fingers, and silver climbed up his left ear, catching the sun as he moved.

He was smiling.

It wasn’t a shy smile or a polite one. It was full, bright, the kind of smile that made you feel like you’d just stumbled into the middle of something better than whatever you were doing before.

Johnny stopped walking without meaning to. His mouth went dry for a second.

Taeyong looked up and waved. “Johnny! Finally! Thought you bailed.”

Johnny blinked. He glanced at Yuta again, who had now turned his head, watching him with curious eyes under a mess of wind tossed red.

He tried to answer, but when he stepped forward, his voice came out awkward and a little too high. “Yeah, no, I.. I didn’t… I was just… the studio was locked.”

Yuta tilted his head slightly, amused.

“This is Yuta,” Taeyong said, motioning between them. “He just transferred. Jewelry design. This guy’s been in metal all day. Smells like fire.”

“I do not,” Yuta said, still smiling.

Johnny looked at him, tried not to stare too obviously. “Nice to meet you,” he said, and instantly regretted how stiff it sounded.

Yuta reached out to shake his hand. “You too. Johnny, right?”

Johnny nodded. Then forgot what to do with his other hand.

“Are you in architecture or something?” Yuta asked.

“Design,” Johnny said, too quickly. “Interior. I mean. Studio stuff. Like… space planning and yeah. That.”

Yuta’s smile twitched like he was trying not to laugh.

Taeyong leaned back on his palms, grinning. “Johnny’s like, the most chill person in our class. Usually.”

Johnny shot him a look.

Yuta’s hand was still cold from the metal bench, but his grip had been steady. His eyes were sharp but warm. There was something about the way he looked at people that felt like he really saw them, even if it was just for a moment.

Johnny sat down beside them, mostly because Taeyong patted the grass insistently. He tried not to watch Yuta too obviously after that. But it was too late.

He’d already memorized the sound of that laugh.

-

Hope was asleep.

Not in her crib, but in the wrap strapped to Yuta’s chest, her tiny cheek pressed just above his heart. He hadn’t meant to let her nap there so long, but after the fourth failed transfer to the crib, he gave up and let her stay.

Johnny was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled to his elbows, rinsing dishes with one hand and scrolling through a recipe on his phone with the other.

Yuta stood near the doorway, watching him. He was tired, but it was a quiet kind of tired, the kind that didn’t ache as much when the baby was finally sleeping.

“She’s knocked out,” Yuta said, adjusting the wrap slightly.

Johnny glanced over. “I don’t blame her. Your heartbeat’s probably like a lullaby to her now.”

Yuta rubbed a hand over his face. “I haven’t showered today.”

Johnny smiled, turning back to the sink. “You’ve still got toothpaste on your shirt from this morning.”

“Great.”

Johnny dried his hands and walked over, taking a look at Hope without saying much. He tucked a finger gently under the fabric, checking her position.

“Her feet okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. She’s curled up weird, but she’s fine.”

Johnny leaned his forehead against Yuta’s, careful not to jostle Hope.

“Dinner in twenty,” he said. “Go sit down. I’ll bring it to you.”

“You don’t have to do all of it.”

“I know.”

Yuta hesitated. “She’s probably gonna wake up the moment I sit down.”

“Then I’ll hold her and you eat.”

Yuta exhaled slowly. “You’re not tired?”

“I’m always tired. Doesn’t mean I want you running on fumes.”

Yuta didn’t argue. He walked to the couch and sat carefully, one hand cradling the back of Hope’s head as he shifted. The rain was still steady against the glass. The light in the room had gone soft, that blue-grey tint that only comes in the hour before sunset.

Johnny moved quietly in the kitchen. The smell of garlic and something warm filled the room. It wasn’t special, nothing about the meal, nothing about the day. Just a quiet Thursday evening in a tired apartment.

And yet, it felt like enough.

Yuta glanced down at Hope. Her mouth twitched in her sleep, maybe dreaming. He brushed a thumb gently across her cheek.

He didn’t say anything out loud, but he thought it anyway.

This is harder than I imagined.

And better than I expected.

And I’m still learning how to be in it.

But I’m here.

And maybe that was enough too.

-

The four of them met outside the café just as the sun was dipping low, casting a warm orange glow over the city streets. Jaehyun was already there, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, scanning the crowd. Taeyong was a few steps behind, fiddling with the strap of his backpack, eyes sharp and alert.

Johnny was pushing the stroller, Hope wrapped in a light blanket, blinking up at the sky. Yuta walked beside him, shoulders relaxed but alert, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Look who’s here,” Jaehyun said, his voice light but with that familiar teasing edge. “The famous Yuta and Johnny, out in the wild.”

Taeyong smirked. “I still can’t believe Yuta got you to take her out.”

Yuta shot him a look. “I’m the one who’s nervous, not him.”

Johnny laughed quietly. “Hey, it was a team effort.”

They settled into a small outdoor table just off the sidewalk, the sounds of the city swirling around them. Hope was calm, sucking quietly on her bottle, eyes wide and curious as she took in the new faces and smells.

Jaehyun leaned back in his chair. “So, how’s fatherhood treating you two?”

Yuta shrugged. “Exhausting.”

Johnny nodded in agreement. “But good. We’re figuring it out.”

Taeyong smiled softly. “You’re doing better than I expected. Yuta was worried he’d mess it up.”

Yuta gave a mock glare. “Thanks for that vote of confidence.”

Jaehyun chuckled. “Hey, it’s all part of the fun.”

The conversation drifted between updates on work, plans for the weekend, and stories from their college days. Nothing forced. Just easy.

At one point, Hope stirred, making a small fuss. Johnny reached down, soothing her back to calm with practiced hands.

Yuta watched them both, a quiet warmth pooling in his chest.

Later, as they stood to leave, Taeyong clapped Yuta on the shoulder. “You’re doing great, man. She’s lucky to have you.”

Johnny smiled beside him. “Yeah. We both are.”

-

Johnny woke when he felt the bed shift, just slightly, the way it did when Yuta moved quietly in the dark. He didn’t open his eyes at first. Hope was crying down the hall. The sound cut through the quiet like it always did, but softer somehow, not yet urgent. He blinked once, then again, just as he pushed himself up to go. But the room was already empty on Yuta’s side.

He sat for a second, rubbing his eyes. The crying hadn’t stopped. He stood, padded down the hallway.

The nursery door was open a little. Johnny stood just outside, watching.

Yuta was there, holding her, whispering softly, bouncing her gently in his arms, dark circles deep under his eyes. His shirt was wrinkled, probably slept in, but Johnny could see how tightly his jaw was clenched, how hard he was trying.

Five minutes passed. Then ten.

Hope was still crying, not screaming, just that unsettled cry that made your chest ache if you listened to it long enough.

Johnny stepped in. Yuta didn’t notice him right away. His back was to the door.

When Johnny spoke, his voice was low, careful. “Let me try.”

Yuta froze for a second, then turned. His eyes were wet. His arms looked tired. He didn’t argue. Just handed her over, his hands falling limply to his sides as soon as Johnny took her.

Johnny said nothing. He held Hope close, gently rocking, his hand covering the back of her small head.

Yuta turned and walked out.

It didn’t take long this time. Hope settled after a few minutes. Her cries turned to little hiccups, and then finally, silence.

Johnny stood over the crib a moment, just watching her. Breathing in slowly. He could still feel the tension in his own chest from earlier, like it hadn’t had time to catch up with the calm.

He left the nursery and checked the bedroom. Empty.

Then the bathroom. The light was still on.

The door creaked open.

Yuta was on the floor, half sitting, half leaning against the wall, head tilted back. His eyes were closed, but his cheeks were wet. He wasn’t asleep, not really, just drained, his arms loose at his sides, his face pulled into something exhausted and sad.

Johnny knelt in front of him.

“Yuta.”

Yuta blinked slowly, barely reacting.

“You didn’t come back.”

Yuta swallowed. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“I already did.”

Yuta didn’t answer.

Johnny sat beside him, close enough that their knees touched. He looked at him for a long moment, quiet.

“It’s okay to struggle. You know that, right?”

Yuta didn’t move.

Johnny kept his voice low. “You don’t have to hold it together every single night. You don’t have to be perfect.”

Yuta shook his head, still not looking at him. “I wasn’t asking for perfect. I just wanted her to stop crying.”

“I know. And I wish I could take that from you.”

His hand found Yuta’s, fingers cold.

“I know these words won’t fix how you feel right now. But I need you to hear me anyway. You’re doing everything you can. She’s not crying because you failed. She’s crying because she’s a baby, and babies cry. And you’re tired. And you’re stretched thin. And it’s okay.”

Yuta finally looked at him. His eyes were red, still a little glossy. “It feels like I’m doing everything wrong.”

“You’re not. I swear, you’re not. I see how hard you try. Every minute. I see you getting up before me. Staying up after me. Holding her when your arms shake.”

He paused, voice tightening. “And it kills me to see you like this. I’m trying, too. For you. I wish I could take more of it, just so you could rest.”

Yuta’s head dropped, forehead pressing lightly to Johnny’s shoulder. “I just wanted to do this right.”

“You are. It just doesn’t feel like it tonight.”

They sat there for a while. Neither of them spoke. The bathroom light buzzed faintly. Johnny wrapped his arm around Yuta’s back, held him close, didn’t rush him.

When Yuta’s breathing evened out a little, Johnny stood and helped him up.

“Come lie down,” he said.

Yuta nodded. His body was heavy, but he followed.

Back in the bedroom, Johnny pulled the blanket over them both. Yuta faced the wall. Johnny curled behind him, one arm resting gently across his waist.

He didn’t say anything else.

Sometimes the only thing left to give was quiet.

And Johnny gave it.

-

A few days later, the house had settled into one of those rare, quiet afternoons. Hope was asleep in her bassinet by the window, her tiny arms splayed out, her breath steady and soft. Sunlight filtered in through the sheer curtains, casting pale patterns across the floor.

Yuta stood at the sink, rinsing a bottle. His movements were slow, deliberate. He wasn’t in a rush. For once, he wasn’t feeling the panic of the next thing or the guilt of something undone. He was just… moving.

Johnny came in, wiping his hands on a towel. He glanced over at Yuta, then down at the drying rack lined with plastic and glass.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

Yuta didn’t answer right away. He set the bottle aside and wiped his hands on the dish towel.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I think I am.”

Johnny tilted his head, watching him.

“I mean,” Yuta added, “not in that perfect, fixed kind of way. But I’m here. I slept last night. She didn’t wake up until four. That’s something, right?”

“That’s a miracle,” Johnny said, a faint smile pulling at his lips.

Yuta sat at the edge of the couch, stretching his arms above his head. His back cracked faintly. “I think my body’s starting to adjust.”

Johnny joined him, sitting beside him but not too close. “You seem more… grounded today.”

Yuta looked down at his hands for a moment. “That night. In the bathroom. I don’t think I realized how close I was to shutting down completely until I walked away.”

“I could tell,” Johnny said. “I didn’t know how to help you without making it worse.”

“You didn’t make it worse. You did exactly what I needed. You saw me and didn’t try to fix it. You just stayed.”

Johnny nodded, eyes still on him.

“I’m still scared,” Yuta admitted. “Still overwhelmed sometimes. But I’m not walking into the dark alone anymore.”

Johnny leaned back slightly, letting that settle.

“We don’t get medals for this,” Yuta added with a dry chuckle. “No one gives you a gold star for getting through a week without losing your mind.”

“No,” Johnny said, “but I see it. All of it. You showing up every day. Holding it together even when it feels impossible. I see it.”

They sat in silence for a minute.

From the other room, Hope made a small sound,  not quite a cry, more like a sleepy murmur, and then quieted again.

Yuta leaned his head back, eyes closing for a second.

“Sometimes,” he said softly, “I just need someone to remind me I’m not doing this wrong.”

Johnny reached over and squeezed his hand. “Then let that be my job.”

-

Johnny shut the door behind him with a little more force than he meant to. The click echoed through the quiet entryway, and he exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The meeting had run late. The client hadn’t just disliked the concepts he’d spent the last two weeks refining,  they’d dismissed them completely. “Not what we envisioned at all,” they’d said, with that clipped tone that made his stomach twist. No notes, no specifics. Just vague disappointment.

He had fought not to snap, clenched his jaw through the last half hour, nodded along as they talked in circles. By the time he left the office, his shoulders were locked up with tension and his head ached behind his eyes.

But now, as he slipped off his shoes and stepped further into the apartment, something stopped him.

Laughter.

Not just soft chuckles or a giggle, but full, delighted baby laughter, the kind that came in bursts, bubbly and breathless and real. Hope’s laugh.

Johnny moved toward the living room without thinking, quieting his steps.

Yuta was on the rug, knees bent under him, facing Hope, who was lying on her back with her legs kicking wildly in the air. Her arms flailed in excitement every time Yuta scrunched his face or blew a dramatic raspberry against the back of his hand.

Johnny leaned against the doorframe, watching.

Yuta hadn’t noticed him yet. He was in his own little world, fully focused on their daughter. His hair was a mess, the sleeves of his sweatshirt pushed up to his elbows, and there were faint traces of flour on his cheek — probably from baking something earlier. His voice was soft, full of mock seriousness as he babbled nonsense to Hope, who erupted in another fit of giggles when he made a ridiculous noise with his tongue.

Johnny’s irritation dissolved without effort. He didn’t even feel it leave. It was just gone, like fog lifted off a window.

Yuta finally looked up, catching the movement in the doorway.

“You’re home,” he said with a soft smile.

Johnny stepped into the room, eyes still on them. “Yeah.”

“Rough day?” Yuta asked, already able to tell.

Johnny sat down heavily on the couch and ran a hand through his hair. “Client hated everything I presented. Like… hated it. Said it didn’t match what they asked for even though it’s exactly what they asked for. Then didn’t offer anything useful in return.”

Yuta raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything yet. He picked Hope up and gently set her in her rocker. She was still smiling, cheeks rosy, eyes half lidded from all the laughing.

Yuta walked over and sat next to Johnny, resting a hand lightly on his thigh.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Johnny leaned back, looking over at him. “It sucked. I worked so hard on that presentation. Stayed up way too many nights tweaking the lighting setups and revising every layout. I thought it was solid. But they just… looked at me like I wasted their time.”

He rubbed at his temple.

Yuta waited, giving him space to let it out.

“But then I walk in,” Johnny continued, his voice quieter now, “and I hear her laughing. And I see you… being ridiculous on the floor. And suddenly, it’s like none of that matters.”

Yuta looked at him, tilting his head slightly.

Johnny smiled, small and tired. “I mean it. Everything else feels small when I come home to you two. Like the world is loud out there, but in here, it makes sense.”

Yuta’s eyes softened.

“I don’t want to carry that crap into this space,” Johnny added. “I don’t want my bad day to touch either of you. You’re the one thing that pulls me out of my head when it’s too loud in there.”

“You don’t have to be perfect when you walk in the door,” Yuta said, leaning into him. “I know when something’s weighing on you. You can tell me. I want you to.”

Johnny nodded. “I know. I just… I’d rather look at her face and hear her laugh than think about anything else.”

Yuta gave a small smile. “You know, she laughed like that for the first time this morning. I was in the middle of brushing my teeth and she just started cracking up out of nowhere. I thought maybe I’d imagined it.”

“You didn’t imagine anything,” Johnny said, glancing toward the rocker where Hope was now calmly sucking on her hand. “She’s got your smile. It’s dangerous.”

Yuta laughed under his breath. “Don’t blame me if she turns out charming.”

Johnny let out a long breath, his muscles finally starting to loosen.

“Do you want tea?” Yuta asked, standing up.

Johnny shook his head, grabbing his wrist gently to stop him. “No. Just sit. Stay with me for a bit.”

Yuta settled back beside him, quiet now, both of them just watching their daughter from the couch, the low hum of home around them. The day was still heavy on Johnny’s back, but it didn’t press so hard anymore.

He reached over and threaded his fingers through Yuta’s.

“I’m lucky,” he said, almost to himself.

Yuta didn’t answer. He just held on.

-

Johnny leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching Yuta fumble with the list for the fifth time that morning.

“Okay, so… diapers, obviously. Her formula is in the blue tin on the shelf. Bottles are already sterilized. One every three hours, but she usually starts fussing before then so it’s okay to feed her a little earlier. Ummm burp cloths are on the back of the couch and she likes being walked around when she gets fussy, but not bounced, ”

“Yuta,” Jaehyun said, from where he was sprawled on the couch. “We got it.”

Taeyong was kneeling beside Hope’s rocker, smiling softly at the baby. “We’re not new to this. You know I’ve helped my sister with her twins.”

“She’s never stayed with anyone else before,” Yuta said, eyes darting from them to the baby and back. “Not even for an hour.”

“Hey,” Johnny said gently, stepping closer and placing a hand at the small of his back. “They’ll be fine. She’ll be fine.”

Yuta hesitated, fingers twitching against the edge of the dining table.

“You need a break,” Johnny said quietly, just for him. “And I want to be with you today. Just us.”

Yuta finally exhaled and nodded once.

“Okay,” he whispered, still glancing toward the rocker.

Johnny kissed the side of his head and smiled over at their friends. “Text us if anything happens.”

“Only if it’s an emergency,” Jaehyun replied, waving them off. “Go before he changes his mind.”

They left slowly, Johnny tugging Yuta along with him, and as they stepped outside and the door shut behind them, the silence that settled felt foreign almost too quiet.

The restaurant was soft lit, warm, and quiet. Their table was tucked into a corner near a tall window, the candlelight flickering against the glasses of wine set between them. Johnny reached across the table and held Yuta’s hand loosely, rubbing his thumb over the ring he wore.

Yuta had dressed up a little, though he kept it subtle, a dark button up and one of his thinner silver chains. Johnny hadn’t stopped staring at him all night.

The food was beautiful, but neither of them cared that much about it.

“What?” Yuta asked after a while, cheeks already a little flushed from the wine and the attention.

“You’re glowing,” Johnny said simply. “You haven’t looked this relaxed in weeks.”

“I still keep thinking about her,” Yuta admitted, brushing his fingers against the stem of his glass.

“Me too,” Johnny said. “But I also really missed you.”

Yuta looked up, surprised.

“I mean, I see you every day. But we’re always halfway pulled in opposite directions. Today, it’s just you and me.”

Yuta’s smile softened, slow and genuine. He didn’t answer, just squeezed Johnny’s hand.

After dinner, they walked to the car in easy silence. The night air was warm, streetlights glowing dim above them. Johnny opened the passenger side door for Yuta and grinned as he got in.

Once Johnny slipped into the driver’s seat and shut the door, he didn’t start the engine. He just turned to look at Yuta again.

“What?” Yuta asked, laughing quietly.

“I can’t stop staring at you tonight.”

Yuta tilted his head, teasing. “You sure it’s not the wine?”

Johnny leaned in before answering, closing the space between them with his hand brushing Yuta’s jaw.

The kiss started soft. Familiar.

But it built slowly, deepening until Johnny’s hand was in Yuta’s hair and Yuta was sliding closer in his seat, knees brushing, breath quickening.

When they finally broke apart, Yuta rested his forehead against Johnny’s.

“This feels like that night in college,” he murmured, lips brushing against Johnny’s as he spoke. “When you dropped me off outside the dorm and we were trying to be quiet but we weren’t.”

Johnny laughed, low and rough. “You told me I ruined your neck.”

“You did.”

“You didn’t complain.”

“I complained a little,” Yuta said, grinning. “But I liked it.”

They were quiet for a moment, both breathing steady now, the windows slightly fogged.

Johnny brushed a hand down Yuta’s back. “You still taste like the same person I fell in love with.”

Yuta leaned in and kissed him again, slower this time.

When they finally pulled apart, Yuta laughed softly, wiping his thumb across Johnny’s bottom lip. “We should go home.”

“We should,” Johnny agreed, but he didn’t move.

Yuta watched him for a second, his voice softer now. “Thank you. For tonight.”

Johnny kissed his temple. “You deserved it.”

And for the first time in a while, Yuta didn’t argue.

-

Johnny had rehearsed it maybe a hundred times in his head.

In the shower. On his way to class. While brushing his teeth. While trying to sleep.

It was just a question. One simple question.

But every time he thought about saying it to Yuta directly, his mouth went dry and his brain decided to run a completely different script.

They were sitting outside the art building, both of them cross-legged on the low stone wall that edged the grass. It was late afternoon, early spring, and the sky was that pale kind of blue that meant the sun would dip fast. Johnny had pretended he just happened to be nearby, but the truth was, he’d seen Yuta’s story on Instagram earlier. He knew exactly where Yuta would be.

Yuta was wearing ripped jeans again, his knees peeking through frayed threads. One earbud was hanging out, the other still in. His red hair glowed under the sun, a little wind-blown. A pen was tucked behind one ear.

He was sketching something in a small notebook. Probably for his sculpture elective. Johnny didn’t ask. He just watched, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Do I have something on my face?” Yuta asked without looking up.

Johnny blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been staring for five minutes.”

“I haven’t.”

Yuta glanced up, one eyebrow raised. “You have.”

Johnny rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Yuta smiled, lips pressed together, amused but letting him have his embarrassment.

Johnny felt his heartbeat spike in his throat.

“Actually,” he said, forcing the words out before he could second-guess himself again. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Yuta closed the notebook. “Okay.”

Johnny shifted, trying to act casual and failing miserably. “Do you…. do you want to maybe go out with me? Like, on a date.”

There was a pause. A real one.

Yuta blinked once. His expression didn’t change.

Johnny quickly added, “I mean, no pressure. If you don’t want to, it’s totally, ”

“Johnny.”

He shut his mouth.

Yuta tilted his head. “You’ve been nervous around me for like three weeks. I was starting to think you didn’t even like me.”

Johnny flushed. “What? I…. of course I like you. That’s the whole reason I’m nervous.”

“You’ve been nervous since Taeyong introduced us. Back when I had that blue ring on and you stared at it for ten minutes.”

“I was trying to figure out if it meant you were seeing someone.”

“You could’ve just asked.”

“Yeah, well.” Johnny looked down, letting out a breath. “I’m not great at this.”

Yuta was quiet for a second. Then he slid off the wall, standing with a small stretch.

Johnny looked up at him, trying to read his face.

Yuta tilted his head slightly. “What day?”

“What?”

“The date,” he said, mouth quirking into a small smile. “What day are you taking me out?”

Johnny blinked. “You’re saying yes?”

“Of course I’m saying yes.”

“Oh,” Johnny said, trying not to sound too surprised. “Right. Um… Friday?”

“Friday’s good.”

Yuta started walking, hands in his jacket pockets.

Johnny scrambled to grab his bag and catch up. “Wait, so you… knew I liked you?”

“Everyone knew you liked me,” Yuta said over his shoulder.

“Taeyong didn’t.”

“Taeyong told me.”

“Oh.”

Yuta glanced sideways, his voice a little lower now. “I like you too, you know.”

Johnny looked at him, heart stuttering in his chest.

“Even when you’re a nervous wreck.”

“Especially then?”

Yuta grinned. “We’ll see how charming you are on Friday.”

Johnny exhaled a laugh, finally letting the tension leave his shoulders as he fell into step beside him.

-

Hope was five months old now, and somehow that both felt impossible and exactly right. She was still small, still delicate in all the ways babies are, but she’d grown into herself. Her expressions were sharper, her giggles louder, her cries more purposeful. She knew what she wanted now, even if it was just the crinkle of a snack bag or the sound of Yuta’s voice when he sang to himself in the kitchen.

That morning, the house was bright with sunlight, the curtains drawn open. Johnny was lying on his back on the living room floor, shirt rumpled, hair a mess, while Hope sat on his chest, drooling on his collar and grabbing his cheeks like they were her favorite toy. Which, lately, they were.

Yuta walked in with a cup of coffee in each hand, pausing at the doorway to watch the two of them.

Hope babbled something incoherent and smacked Johnny lightly in the face.

“Ow,” Johnny said flatly. “Abuse. I’m being assaulted.”

“You’re literally smiling.”

“Because if I don’t, she’ll escalate.”

Yuta snorted and handed Johnny one of the mugs. “She takes after you.”

Johnny glanced at him. “That’s a bold accusation for someone who spent half the night teaching her how to scream into a spoon.”

“She thought it was funny!”

Hope gurgled loudly, clearly proud of herself.

Yuta sat cross legged on the floor beside them, cradling his own cup between his palms. He looked tired, but not worn down. Just soft. Content.

“She’s been watching us more lately,” Johnny said, shifting Hope so she was lying across his chest, her small hands playing with the strings of his hoodie. “Like, really watching. Like she knows we’re her people.”

Yuta nodded, eyes fixed on her. “She tracks everything now. My mom FaceTimed yesterday and she stared at the screen the whole time.”

“She’s got your focus.”

“She’s got your calm.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow. “Calm? She’s been farting aggressively for a week.”

“That’s her energy,” Yuta replied. “Not her calm.”

Hope sneezed once, then blinked like she didn’t know where the sound came from. Johnny laughed and gently tapped her nose.

“Bless you, chaos gremlin.”

Yuta watched them quietly for a moment, then leaned his head against Johnny’s shoulder, careful not to jostle the baby.

“I think I’m getting better at this,” he said softly. “The parenting thing.”

Johnny didn’t look away from Hope. “You’ve always been good at it.”

“I didn’t feel like it in the beginning.”

“No one does.”

Hope let out a dramatic sigh and started chewing on Johnny’s zipper.

Yuta looked over and smiled. “We made a person.”

Johnny finally glanced at him, eyes warm. “Yeah. And she’s loud and grabby and weird and I love her so much it’s terrifying.”

“Same.”

They sat there for a while, just breathing in the stillness of the morning, the quiet broken only by the sound of Hope humming to herself and the occasional slurp of coffee.

Eventually, Johnny tilted his head and murmured, “You ever think about how we got here?”

Yuta didn’t answer right away. He didn’t need to. He just rested his hand over Johnny’s, fingers brushing together over Hope’s back.

“Every day,” he whispered. “And I still can’t believe it.”

-

Johnny sat cross legged on the living room rug, Hope perched comfortably on his lap, her fingers tangled in the fabric of his t-shirt. The board book in his hands had a smudged cover and bite marks on one corner, her favorite, a short story about a rabbit and a balloon. He read it out loud, doing silly voices where he could, pausing so she could slap her hand against the page like she always did when the colors changed.

She wasn’t really listening. Her eyes wandered, hands twitching with energy, her legs kicking softly against his stomach. But Johnny didn’t mind. Reading to her had become a kind of ritual. Grounding, even if she didn’t understand much of it yet.

From the other room, the sound of water had stopped. Then came Yuta’s voice, humming gently, followed by a few quiet lines sung in Japanese. Johnny recognized the melody, something old, something gentle. He must’ve been toweling off, still damp from the shower, moving around their bedroom barefoot.

Hope stilled.

Her head turned toward the sound.

Johnny kept reading, half distracted.

Then she said it. Just a whisper, breathy and unsure: “Dada.”

Johnny froze.

He blinked, looked down at her. “What was that?”

She said it again, a little louder. “Dada.”

His heart skipped. “Hey, did you just..” He grinned, wide and stunned, and then just as quickly realized something.

Hope wasn’t looking at him.

She was facing the hallway, eyes locked in the direction of their room. She was leaning forward now, arm outstretched toward the sound of Yuta’s voice.

“Dada,” she repeated, more certain this time. “Dada. Dada.”

Johnny stared at her for a second, then huffed a laugh, something warm catching in his throat. “You little traitor.”

Hope turned, confused by the tone, and he kissed her cheek quickly before calling out, “Yuta?”

There was movement, then Yuta appeared in the doorway, towel still slung over his shoulders, damp hair sticking to his forehead. “Yeah?”

And that was all it took.

Hope squealed in delight, both hands now reaching, her legs kicking frantically against Johnny’s stomach.

“Dada!” she shouted, beaming. “Dada, dada!”

Yuta blinked, wide eyed. “Wait… was that?”

“She said it,” Johnny said, voice soft. “She said it for you.”

Hope was practically throwing herself off Johnny’s lap now, determined to get to him.

Yuta crossed the room fast, crouching in front of them, and the second he was close enough, Hope lunged forward, grabbing at his face with both hands, giggling uncontrollably.

“Dada,” she repeated, pressing her forehead against his.

Yuta’s mouth parted slightly, too stunned to speak at first. He held her carefully, eyes darting to Johnny for a second like he couldn’t quite believe it.

Johnny smiled and nodded. “She meant you.”

Yuta wrapped his arms around her fully now, tucking her against his chest. He didn’t say anything at first, just held her, heart pounding, hands trembling just enough to be noticeable.

Then, barely above a whisper, “She knows me.”

“She loves you,” Johnny said, resting a hand on his back. “She’s always known you.”

Hope settled against Yuta’s neck, humming something soft under her breath, her voice already quieter. The excitement had passed, but her joy still lingered.

Yuta kissed the top of her head and looked over at Johnny again. “I wasn’t ready for that.”

“No one ever is.”

They stayed like that for a long time, the three of them on the floor, tangled in soft sunlight and warmth and the sound of a little girl discovering her world, one word at a time.

-

Hope was five months old when she started walking, and now at just over six, she had mastered the art of chaotic independence.

It was just past midday, sunlight spilling through the windows, catching on the mess of toys across the living room floor. Johnny was seated by the dining table, thumbing through fabric swatches and squinting at notes he could barely focus on. Hope had been making her rounds, small and wobbly laps of the apartment with her arms held slightly out, like she was balancing on a beam no one else could see.

Yuta was in the bedroom, cross legged on the floor with his phone pressed to his ear and his sketchbook open across his lap. His first real order since Hope was born, a custom engagement ring. The client was enthusiastic, if a little indecisive, but Yuta was focused, nodding to himself as he scribbled notes.

“Yes, I understand. You want something timeless, but also modern. A little vintage detail, but not too ornate… I can work with that,” he said, pen moving quickly.

Out in the living room, Hope waddled past the couch, turning in slow, clumsy circles like she’d lost her original target. Her wide eyes scanned the space until she stopped near the hallway, facing the direction of the bedroom.

Johnny was by the dining table, flipping through fabric samples for a new lounge interior set. He had one eye on her, but his attention kept drifting back to his notes. “Hope, not near the shelves!” he called without looking.

In the other room, “I’ll send you a few concept sketches by the end of the week,” Yuta said, more softly now, glancing at the clock. “Thanks again for trusting me with it.”

He hung up, letting the phone drop to the carpet.

Then he heard it,

A sudden thud, followed by the sharp, piercing wail of Hope’s cry echoing from the hallway.

“Dada!”

Yuta was on his feet instantly.

Johnny was already halfway across the room, panic flashing across his face.

They both reached her at the same time. Hope was on the floor beside the couch, one hand clutching her stuffed bunny, the other balled into a tight fist against her chest as she cried. Her lip was trembling, a red mark blooming on her forehead where she’d bumped it against the wooden leg of the console.

“Dada!” she cried again, louder this time, her face scrunching up. Her little fists bounced at her sides in frustration as she tried to stand up.

Yuta dropped to his knees beside her, scooping her up carefully.

“Oh my god! Hope, baby, shh, I’m here, I’m here.”

Her face crumpled as she burst into tears, but the moment she was in his arms, she buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed out again, “Dada.”

Yuta rocked her gently, whispering to her in soft Japanese, swaying back and forth while checking her hands and knees. No cuts. No bruises. Just scared.

Johnny watched from behind, guilt blooming quietly in his chest.  “She was just behind the couch a second ago. I didn’t see her come back around.” He said, more to himself than anyone else. 

He stepped forward to help, but Hope wasn’t reaching for him. She was clinging to Yuta like he was her whole world.

Yuta kissed her temple, still murmuring soft reassurance. “I’m right here. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Hope’s sobs slowed to hiccups, her tiny fingers fisting the collar of his shirt.

Johnny crossed his arms loosely over his chest, letting out a low breath.

“She didn’t even look at me,” he muttered, mostly to himself again. “I was standing right there and she’s just out here screaming for her favorite parent.”

Yuta glanced over his shoulder, something flickering in his eyes.

Johnny raised an eyebrow. “Guess I know where I stand now.”

Yuta let out a small snort, trying not to smile.

Hope hiccupped once, then blinked up at Yuta sleepily.

Johnny gave a wounded sigh. “She’s gonna grow up and write poems about you, and I’m just gonna be ‘the tall one who made toast sometimes.’”

Yuta laughed, full and warm, the kind that took a bit of the tension out of his shoulders. He turned to Johnny, still holding Hope close, and said, “You’re being dramatic.”

Johnny narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t even get a glance. Not one glance.”

Hope babbled something sleepy and incoherent, head tucked under Yuta’s chin.

Yuta gave Johnny a look that was equal parts amusement and fondness. “You can be the favorite next week.”

“Next week,” Johnny muttered, walking over to rub Hope’s back gently. “You hear that? Your other dad is very emotionally fragile.”

Hope blinked slowly, unimpressed.

Yuta grinned. “She says she’ll consider it.”

“Fair enough.”

And just like that, things settled again, their daughter snuggled against Yuta’s chest, Johnny pretending to sulk.

-

Johnny was on the couch, his laptop open but ignored, a half eaten granola bar on the armrest. Hope was curled up next to him with her legs tucked under her, chewing absently on the corner of her picture book while her other hand tangled itself in the drawstring of his hoodie.

Yuta had gone out an hour ago, something about needing to pick up a few things from the shop and stretch his legs. He’d offered to take Hope with him, but Johnny had waved it off, telling him to go alone for once. He could handle a couple of hours.

And he could. He was. Mostly.

He was mid-sentence in an email when he heard it, small and offhand, like it wasn’t a big deal.

“Papa.”

Johnny blinked, froze, turned slowly toward her.

Hope was looking at him, completely unbothered, like she hadn’t just made his heart stop.

“What did you say?” he asked, eyes wide.

She giggled and held out the picture book.

Johnny took it, still blinking. “No, no. Hope, what did you just say? Say it again. Say… papa.”

She just made a clicking noise with her tongue and reached for his face.

He laughed, flustered, grabbing his phone and opening FaceTime.

Yuta answered after two rings, the wind a little loud in the background.

“Hey,” he said, smiling. “Everything okay?”

“Hope just called me ‘papa.’”

Yuta’s brows rose. “Wait what?”

“She said it. Clear as day. Papa. I swear.”

Yuta grinned, already leaning in. “Hope! Say it again! Say ‘papa’!”

Johnny turned the camera so it showed both of them. Hope stared at the screen, smacked the phone once, and then yawned.

Johnny narrowed his eyes. “Why are you doing this to me. You said it. Say it again.”

Hope made a fart noise with her mouth and flopped onto her back, unbothered.

Yuta laughed. “Oh no. Did she play you?”

“She’s absolutely humiliating me in front of my husband.”

“I’ll be home in ten minutes,” Yuta said, still laughing. “Hang in there, papa.”

Johnny squinted. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

Ten minutes later, the door opened and Hope lit up like a lamp. She clapped her hands and stumbled toward Yuta the second she saw him.

“There’s my girl,” Yuta said, dropping his bag and scooping her up. “Did you miss me?”

She giggled and leaned into him, one hand patting his jaw like she always did when she was happy.

Then, still smiling, she pointed back toward the living room.

“Papa.”

Yuta’s arms froze around her. Slowly, he turned to look at Johnny.

Johnny stood in the doorway, mouth slightly open. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Hope pointed again. “Papa.”

Yuta looked like his heart had just melted straight through his ribs. He stepped closer and handed her gently toward Johnny.

“She meant it.”

Johnny took her, blinking hard. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Hope grinned up at him, pressing her forehead to his chin.

Yuta kissed both of their cheeks before stepping back. “I guess now we’re officially ‘dada’ and ‘papa.’”

Johnny nodded, still stunned. “I was starting to think she just called me ‘that guy who carries snacks.’”

“She probably does when we’re not around.”

Hope let out a small squeal and slapped Johnny’s chest with both palms, clearly proud of herself.

Johnny looked at her, eyes soft. “I’m never letting you forget this.”

Yuta grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell the story at her wedding.”

Johnny pressed a kiss to Hope’s head, holding her close with both arms wrapped protectively around her small frame. She was still giggling from all the attention, eyes squinting in delight, but he was serious when he said, “She’s not getting married.”

Yuta let out a sharp laugh from behind him. “Oh my god. Already?”

Johnny looked at him, deadpan. “Nope. Not happening. She’s gonna live here forever. Right here. With us. Rent free. I don’t care.”

Yuta leaned on the back of the couch, grinning. “Wait until she brings home her first partner. I want to see your face when someone shows up at the door and says, ‘Hi, Mr. Suh, I’m here to take your daughter out.’”

Johnny made a face like he’d just tasted something bitter. “No. Absolutely not. No one is taking her out anywhere.”

Yuta laughed harder. “You think you’re ready for all the teenage heartbreak? The door slamming? The crying over some kid with a stupid haircut and too much cologne?”

“Don’t say these things,” Johnny said, narrowing his eyes. “Why would you say these things while she’s still small and soft and doesn’t even know how to lie yet?”

“Because I know you,” Yuta said, smirking. “You’re going to panic the first time she writes ‘I love you’ in a notebook. You’re going to trail her and pretend you’re casually walking behind her and her date.”

“I will casually follow them from a safe distance with binoculars,” Johnny said, without missing a beat. “And I’ll have your location shared so you can be my backup.”

“I’ll be across the street in a parked car, sunglasses on, pretending I don’t know you.”

Hope let out a loud, delighted squeal and slapped Johnny’s cheek with her tiny hand, utterly unaware she was the subject of an imaginary surveillance operation.

“She’s too small for this conversation,” Johnny muttered, nuzzling into her. “She still thinks the most exciting thing in life is a string of keys.”

Yuta walked over and pressed a kiss to the side of Johnny’s head, then gently ran his fingers through Hope’s hair.

“She’s going to grow up, Johnny,” he said softly. “And she’s going to break our hearts a little. But she’s also going to be so loved. She already is.”

Johnny didn’t answer right away. Just looked down at their daughter, who was now busy trying to eat the collar of his hoodie.

“…She’s still not getting married,” he said finally, holding her a little tighter.

Yuta chuckled again, resting his chin on Johnny’s shoulder. “Sure. We’ll see.”

-

The hallway outside the dorm was quiet, mostly dark except for the dull yellow light above the stairwell. Johnny’s car idled just across the lot, headlights off, the soft purr of the engine the only sound in the night.

They were leaning against the side of the building, tucked slightly behind the stairwell. Johnny’s hands were curled under the hem of Yuta’s jacket, fingers cold where they brushed bare skin just above his jeans.

Yuta pulled back slightly, breath coming out in shallow bursts, lips red and kiss-swollen.

“I have to go in,” he whispered, eyes flicking toward the building’s entrance.

“Five more minutes,” Johnny whispered back, already chasing his mouth again.

They kissed again, slower now, deeper. It was hungry but unpracticed, all teeth and tongue and warm breath fogging up the air between them.

Yuta laughed quietly against Johnny’s mouth. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re irresistible.”

Yuta rolled his eyes but smiled, tucking his fingers into the collar of Johnny’s jacket, holding on.

“Go before someone sees us,” he finally muttered.

“Let them,” Johnny said, but he let go anyway, hands lingering for a second longer at Yuta’s waist.

Yuta slipped inside the building with one last look over his shoulder. Johnny waved lazily from the car as he pulled away.

Upstairs, the hallway was dim, the vending machine humming like always. Yuta opened the door to his room slowly, expecting Taeyong to be asleep. But the light was still on.

Taeyong was sitting cross-legged on his bed, scrolling through his phone with his hood pulled halfway over his face.

He looked up when Yuta came in, and immediately raised an eyebrow.

“You’re late,” he said.

“I know.”

Taeyong stared at him for a second, then pointed wordlessly at Yuta’s neck.

Yuta frowned. “What?”

Taeyong squinted. “You’ve got something right… there.”

He mimed a circle just under his own jaw.

Yuta dropped his bag and rushed to the mirror above their shared dresser. His fingers brushed over the faint, purplish mark just beneath the collarbone of his neck, slightly hidden by the collar of his sweatshirt.

He groaned, pulling it higher. “Seriously?”

Taeyong flopped back onto his bed and cackled. “So that’s how dinner went.”

“Shut up.”

“Did he even drive you all the way back or just make out with you in the parking lot?”

Yuta grabbed a pillow from his bed and tossed it at him. “Shut up.”

Taeyong caught it, still grinning. “At least pretend to be subtle next time. Some of us are trying to maintain our innocence.”

“You haven’t been innocent since freshman year.”

“That’s fair.”

Yuta sighed and flopped down onto his own bed, staring up at the ceiling. He was still flushed. Still buzzing.

Taeyong turned his head to look at him. “You like him.”

Yuta stayed quiet for a moment.

Then: “Yeah.”

“Like, actually like him?”

Yuta nodded slowly. “It’s weird. He’s tall and confident and kind of smug but then he looks at me like he’s surprised I even let him touch me. And I don’t know… it’s like…”

“Like what?”

“Like maybe I needed a tall guy to mess up my neck and confuse the hell out of me.”

Taeyong burst out laughing.

“I’m serious,” Yuta said, throwing his arm over his eyes. “I think I’m in trouble.”

Taeyong smirked. “You’re glowing.”

“God, shut up.”

But he smiled anyway. Even as he tried to hide it, it stayed there.

-

“She’s not eating the avocado,” Johnny said over his shoulder, flicking a piece off his leg. “Again.”

He said as he was sitting on the floor in the kitchen, legs stretched out in front of him, his shirt already marked with faint smears of mashed banana and something vaguely green that Hope had flung across the tray earlier. The high chair was parked next to him, and Hope, one year old, wild haired, and delightfully opinionated, was smacking her spoon against the tray like it was a drum and she was headlining her own concert.

Yuta’s voice came from the hallway, followed by the soft sound of bare feet. “Because you keep giving it to her plain. You wouldn’t eat plain avocado either.”

Johnny looked up as Yuta appeared, holding two mugs of coffee and raising an eyebrow at the scene. Hope saw him and squealed, arms flailing so wildly she knocked her sippy cup to the floor.

Yuta stepped around it smoothly and handed Johnny his coffee. “What happened to the sweet potato?”

“She fed it to the floor,” Johnny said, accepting the mug. “And then looked proud about it.”

Hope babbled something unintelligible, beaming, then held out a sticky hand to Yuta like she expected a standing ovation.

Yuta leaned down and kissed her cheek without hesitation, wiping the spot immediately with a napkin. “You’re a menace.”

“Dada,” Hope said, poking his chest.

Johnny squinted. “Wow. No protest about the floor feeding?”

“She’s learning. Exploring her environment.”

“She’s feeding your environment.”

Yuta grabbed a slice of toast off the counter and leaned against it, sipping his coffee with one hand and nibbling on the crust with the other. “What’s the plan today?”

Johnny sighed. “Laundry. Groceries. Maybe the park if she’s not in a full-blown chaotic mode.”

Hope shrieked and slapped both palms on the tray like she was personally offended.

“Yeah, like that,” Johnny said. “Exactly like that.”

Yuta chuckled. “We’ll split it. I’ll take the laundry if you handle groceries.”

“Deal. But I’m not going alone with her again if she’s going to scream at every fruit aisle we pass.”

Hope picked up a chunk of toast and shoved it into her mouth sideways, eyes narrowed in challenge.

“Okay,” Yuta said, watching her chew like a tiny gremlin. “Maybe she is a little dramatic.”

They moved easily around each other, slipping between tasks and half-finished thoughts the way people do when they’ve been doing this for a while, not just parenting, but being with each other, sharing the quiet, the mess, the small jokes that didn’t need explanations anymore.

Johnny reached over and pulled Hope out of the high chair when she started to squirm. She nestled into his shoulder immediately, head resting in that familiar spot at the curve of his neck.

Yuta smiled at the sight. “You’re her favorite again today.”

“For now,” Johnny said, swaying a little where he stood. “Until I try to wash her hair.”

Hope mumbled “papa” into his neck and kicked one foot lazily.

Yuta reached for the towel draped over the counter and started wiping down the tray. “We really need to mop today too.”

Johnny sighed, but nodded. “We’ll make it a two-nap job.”

“She only takes one nap now.”

Johnny looked at him with mock devastation. “We’re doomed.”

Yuta grinned. “We’ll survive.”

-

Yuta checked the bag again.

Wipes, extra clothes, labeled snacks, sippy cup, her favorite teether, the soft rabbit she refused to nap without, it was all there. Still, his fingers hovered over the zipper, hesitating like he’d forgotten something crucial. Hope sat on the floor near his feet, trying to cram her foot into one of her new velcro sneakers with intense concentration.

Johnny emerged from the bedroom with a tiny hoodie draped over his shoulder. “She’s going to be late to her first day of higher education if you don’t stop repacking the bag.”

Yuta shot him a look. “It’s not a joke.”

“I know it’s not,” Johnny said, crouching next to Hope and slipping the hoodie over her head. “But she’s going to be fine. You’re the one who looks like you’re about to cry.”

“I’m not crying.”

Johnny tilted his head. “You’re blinking a lot.”

“I’m adjusting to the light.”

“It’s 8 a.m. The sun’s been up for hours.”

Yuta didn’t reply. Instead, he knelt and helped Hope with her second shoe, hands gentle but brisk. She looked up at him with wide eyes and her usual bedhead sticking out in three directions. “Dada,” she said, half a question, half reassurance.

He smiled, then kissed her forehead. “You’re going to have so much fun.”

She blinked, not really understanding. The concept of “daycare” wasn’t real to her yet, not until they actually left her there.

The daycare building was bright and full of color. Drawings on the walls, cheerful music playing low in the background, other kids toddling around or clinging to their parents.

Yuta’s grip on the diaper bag strap tightened the second they stepped in.

Hope held Johnny’s hand and looked around with cautious interest, staying close between their legs. She had a tiny backpack on, mostly empty except for a blanket and a sticker book. She didn’t understand why they were both quieter than usual.

A staff member came up to greet them, friendly and calm, giving Hope a little wave and crouching to her eye level. Hope hid behind Johnny’s leg.

Johnny smiled through the lump in his throat. “She’s shy at first.”

Yuta nodded, lips pressed together tightly.

“You’re welcome to stay a few minutes,” the woman said gently.

So they did.

They helped her find a soft block. Showed her where her cubby was. Introduced her to a girl her age who was chewing on a plastic giraffe. Slowly, very slowly, Hope began to edge forward.

And then the moment came, the one Yuta had been dreading all morning.

She turned and looked at them. Small and unsure.

Yuta crouched down, holding her cheeks gently in his hands. “We’ll be back after snack time, okay?”

“Dada go?”

“Just for a little bit.”

Hope frowned. She didn’t cry, but she gripped his fingers tightly, and for a second, Yuta wasn’t sure he could let go.

Johnny placed a hand on his back. “We should go before it gets harder.”

Yuta hesitated, then stood, letting a staff member gently guide Hope toward the story corner.

They left to the sound of her babbling quietly at the blocks.

Back in the car, Yuta stared out the windshield in silence.

“I feel like we abandoned her,” he said finally.

Johnny leaned back against the headrest. “We didn’t. We’re letting her grow a little. Even if it sucks.”

Yuta huffed, then looked sideways at him. “You cried, didn’t you? In the hallway.”

Johnny scoffed. “I had something in my eye.”

Yuta raised an eyebrow.

“…Both eyes.”

That got a small laugh out of Yuta, tired, but real.

They drove home in silence for a while before Johnny said, “I miss her already.”

Yuta nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”

And somehow, that made it easier.

-

The second they stepped into the daycare, Yuta’s stomach twisted again.

He tried not to let it show, standing a little straighter, trying to look casual as if he hadn’t spent most of the day checking the clock every twenty minutes or rewatching the video the staff had sent them of Hope clumsily stacking two blocks and clapping for herself like she’d built a skyscraper.

Johnny, meanwhile, was chewing gum like it owed him money, fingers tapping against his thigh, visibly trying to play it cool but clearly just as anxious.

The moment the door opened, they heard it: the sound of Hope’s unmistakable laugh, loud, breathy, and free.

Johnny and Yuta froze.

“She’s laughing,” Johnny whispered.

“She’s happy,” Yuta breathed, a little stunned.

The staff member at the front smiled when she saw them. “You’ve got a social butterfly on your hands.”

Yuta blinked. “We do?”

“Oh, absolutely. She made herself right at home about twenty minutes after you left. Took a bit to warm up, but once she did, she didn’t stop talking.”

As if on cue, from around the corner, came the sound of tiny stomps, followed by a squeal.

“Dada!!”

Hope came barrelling toward them on unsteady feet, arms out, cheeks flushed pink with excitement. Yuta crouched just in time to catch her as she crashed into him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Dadaaa,” she said again, breathless, then twisted in his arms to spot Johnny. “Papa!”

Johnny stepped in, brushing her hair back. “Hey, did you miss us?”

Hope launched into a breathless stream of babble, half sounds, half real words, words she’d only just started stringing together.

“Block—red—Jessie—book—baa baa—juice—slide—Dada!”

Yuta looked at Johnny, wide eyed. “She sounds like she’s been in a board meeting.”

Hope kept babbling, patting Yuta’s face, then turning to tug on Johnny’s hoodie, as if trying to tell both of them everything at once.

“I think we’ve been replaced,” Johnny said. “By finger paint and animal crackers.”

“She had more fun than we did, that’s for sure,” Yuta said, standing carefully with Hope still clinging to him. “We folded laundry and questioned our life choices.”

“I was very productive,” Johnny added dryly. “I stared at a blank spreadsheet for forty five minutes and contemplated buying a dog.”

Hope babbled again, this time sticking a sticker to Yuta’s cheek.

“She made these,” one of the staff said, walking over with a crumpled sheet of paper that had several scribbles on it. “That one’s apparently a dinosaur.”

Yuta blinked. “Oh. Obviously.”

Johnny took the paper and looked at it like it was a priceless artifact. “Framing this.”

On the ride home, Hope was still talking, still waving her hands in the air like she had so much more to tell them than she could fit in her tiny mouth.

Johnny turned slightly in his seat, watching her from the passenger side as she babbled from the back. “You know,” he said, voice soft but smiling, “I thought she’d cry when she saw us again. Cling to us, maybe need comforting.”

Yuta glanced at him as he drove. “She didn’t even hesitate.”

“She couldn’t wait to tell us everything,” Johnny said. “Like she knew we’d listen.”

Yuta looked at Hope through the rearview mirror. She was holding one of her little books upside down, pointing at it and babbling like she was teaching them something.

“We’ve got a lot to catch up on,” Yuta said.

Johnny smiled. “Apparently, she had a whole life today while we were gone.”

“And she’s already the boss of it.”

Hope kicked her feet and shouted something unintelligible but enthusiastic.

Both of them laughed.

They were exhausted. Their backs hurt. The apartment was going to be a disaster in an hour.

But this  was enough.

-

Yuta adjusted the hem of Hope’s tiny cardigan for the fourth time, even though it didn’t need fixing. She was already dressed, navy pinafore, white tights, little pink sneakers, and her new backpack that was almost the size of her. She was sitting on the couch, swinging her legs, more interested in poking the zipper than the fact that she was starting school.

Johnny walked in, holding a thermos and a lunchbox covered in cartoon strawberries.

“Okay,” he said, placing the lunchbox in the bag. “Lunch, check. Water bottle, check. Emotional stability? Questionable.”

“She’s fine,” Yuta said, brushing Hope’s bangs from her face. “We’re the unstable ones.”

Hope grinned up at him and smacked both hands on her knees. “Can I go now?”

“Not yet,” Johnny said. “We still need a picture.”

Hope groaned like a teenager.

“Wow,” Yuta muttered. “She’s six, not sixteen.”

“She learned that from you,” Johnny said, lifting his phone. “Okay, baby, look here.”

Hope gave a half smile, then wiggled off the couch and started dancing in place.

“This is going to be blurry, I can feel it,” Johnny muttered, still snapping anyway.

Yuta crouched down next to her, tucking her into his side. “First day of school,” he said softly, looking at her with a strange mixture of pride and panic. “You know where to put your bag, right?”

Hope nodded solemnly. “In the cubby. Like daycare.”

“And what do you do if you need something?”

“I ask the teacher. And I use my words.”

“Perfect.” He kissed her forehead. “You’re going to be great.”

The walk to school was only a few blocks, but it felt longer.

Yuta held Hope’s hand the whole way. Johnny carried her backpack, even though she insisted she could do it herself.

Outside the school gates, other kids were streaming in, most of them looking just as small and wide eyed as Hope. Parents lingered, nervous, hopeful, some trying not to cry.

Hope looked up at the school building and then back at them. “Is this it?”

“This is it,” Johnny said, crouching in front of her. “You remember where your classroom is?”

She nodded.

“Do you want us to walk you in?”

She thought about it for a second. Then said, “I can do it.”

Yuta swallowed hard. “You sure?”

Hope nodded again. But her hand was still wrapped around Yuta’s finger.

Johnny gave her the backpack. “Okay. Just one thing before you go.”

He pointed at his cheek. “For luck.”

Hope giggled and gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Then she turned to Yuta, who crouched to her height.

“Come here,” he whispered, and she leaned in so he could hug her tight. “I’m so proud of you, you know that?”

Hope smiled, eyes squinting. “I know.”

Then, just like that, she turned and started walking in, her steps wobbly but determined, like she wasn’t looking back.

Yuta stood frozen in place.

“She didn’t even turn around,” he whispered.

Johnny put a hand on his back. “Nope.”

“I feel like I just dropped her off at college.”

Johnny sighed. “Want to go cry behind a bush like the other dads?”

Yuta sniffed. “You said you weren’t going to cry.”

“I lied. Let’s go.”

And they stood there a little longer, until the bell rang and the doors closed, and their baby girl was officially a student.

“She’s gonna be okay,” Johnny said quietly as they turned to walk home.

Yuta nodded. “Yeah. But I might not be.”

-

The schoolyard buzzed with a kind of organized chaos only the end of a school day could bring,  kids running in loose clusters, backpacks half zipped, parents hovering by the gates, craning their necks every time a classroom door opened.

Yuta spotted the teacher first. “That’s her class, right?”

Johnny nodded, gripping the coffee cup he’d been holding since lunch without actually drinking it. “Yeah. That’s the one. Room 1B.”

They both stepped forward as the teacher waved a few kids out in groups, calling out names, pointing at waiting parents.

And then, there she was.

Hope walked out with her little hand gripping the strap of her backpack, a smudge of marker on her cheek and her ponytail a little crooked. She looked tired, but in the satisfied kind of way, like she’d really done something important.

The moment she spotted them, her whole face lit up.

“Dad! Appa!”

Yuta knelt instinctively, arms open as she ran toward him. “There’s my girl.”

She threw herself at him, and Johnny crouched next to them, hand settling gently on her back.

“Did you have fun?” Yuta asked, brushing the hair out of her eyes.

Hope nodded so hard her ponytail bobbed. “We made name tags! And I drew a cat but it looked like a potato and Ms. Lina said it was cute anyway! And I sat next to a boy named Adam but he eats his pencil and I don’t like that.”

Johnny raised his eyebrows. “Wow. Big day.”

“I was brave!” she said, standing up a little taller.

“You were so brave,” Yuta said, pulling her in again, arms firm around her.

Johnny reached over and gently tugged her backpack off her shoulders. “Did you eat your snack?”

Hope scrunched her face. “I traded my crackers for grapes.”

“Negotiating already,” Johnny muttered with a grin.

They started walking home, Hope swinging between their hands. She talked the whole time, about the story Ms. Lina read (something about a frog and a spaceship), about how the lunch tables were “too cold,” and how someone spilled water and the whole class had to wait outside while it got cleaned up.

Yuta didn’t interrupt. Just listened, nodding, soaking it all in like he’d waited a lifetime to hear these kinds of stories.

About halfway home, Hope’s pace started to slow, her words getting quieter. Yuta looked down to see her eyes starting to blink longer than usual.

“She’s crashing,” Johnny said under his breath.

Yuta stopped walking. “Come here.”

He picked her up carefully, settling her against his chest. Her head rested on his shoulder like it had a hundred times before, but today it felt different. She was just a little heavier, a little taller. A little more hers, somehow.

“She really did it,” he said softly.

Johnny glanced over. “Yeah. First day down.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence, the sun beginning to dip behind the buildings, Hope asleep in Yuta’s arms.

By the time they reached the apartment, she hadn’t stirred.

Johnny opened the door quietly, and Yuta moved straight to the couch, settling her down with the gentleness of someone who knew the cost of waking a child too soon.

Yuta stood back and looked at her, cheeks flushed, arms flopped at her sides, soft snores barely audible.

Johnny came up beside him. “You okay?”

Yuta nodded. “Yeah.”

Then he glanced sideways at Johnny and added, “But next time you’re the one bringing her in.”

Johnny smirked. “Deal.”

-

Hope dropped her bag by the door the second she stepped inside and kicked off her sneakers with the kind of dramatic sigh only a teenager could manage.

Yuta peeked around the kitchen doorway, drying his hands on a dish towel. “Hey, you’re home early.”

Hope shrugged, heading straight for the fridge. “Teacher had a meeting. They let us out after lunch.”

“Good day?”

She pulled out a juice box and leaned on the counter. “Mhmm.” A pause. Then, more quietly, “There’s a guy in my homeroom.”

Yuta raised an eyebrow, trying not to smile too early. “Oh?”

She glanced at him like she was testing the waters. “He’s… kind of cute. Not in a ‘model’ kind of way. More like… funny cute.”

Yuta leaned against the counter across from her, folding his arms. “What’s his name?”

“Mark,” she said, biting the straw. “He has dimples. And he helped me pick up my sketchbook when I dropped it in the hallway. And then he said he liked my nails.”

“That’s the teenage version of a marriage proposal,” Yuta teased.

Hope laughed, bumping her shoulder into his. “Shut up.”

“Do you like him?”

“I don’t not like him.”

Yuta grinned, sipping his tea. “Did you tell your appa yet?”

“No way,” she said, eyes widening. “He’ll go full detective.”

“Mm,” Yuta hummed knowingly. “You might have a point.”

Just then, the front door opened, and Johnny’s voice drifted in. “I smell something sweet. Did someone open a juice box without me?”

Yuta and Hope scrambled to cover their laughter. Yuta coughed into his hand while Hope tried to casually sip her drink with a totally straight face.

Johnny stepped into the kitchen, loosened his tie, and gave them both a suspicious glance. “Okay. What did I just walk in on?”

“Nothing,” they said in unison, far too quickly.

Johnny’s eyes narrowed. “That’s suspicious.”

Hope tried to hold it in but failed, giggling into her sleeve.

Johnny looked at Yuta, eyebrows raised. “Why is our child laughing like she just pulled off an international heist?”

Yuta gave him a practiced shrug. “Teenager things.”

Johnny turned back to Hope. “You’re keeping secrets from me now?”

“No!” she said, voice cracking. “Just… not yet.”

He placed a hand over his heart. “You wound me.”

Hope finally caved. “Okay, okay, fine. I might have a little crush.”

Johnny blinked. “A what?”

Hope turned to Yuta. “Why did we tell him again?”

“Because I hate keeping secrets and I want to see this unfold in real time.”

Johnny walked to the sink, grabbed a glass, filled it halfway, and drank it like someone processing devastating news. “Does he have a last name?”

Hope snorted. “You’re not Googling him.”

“Does he exist outside of your imagination?”

“Johnny,” Yuta warned, trying not to laugh. “She said he helped her pick up her sketchbook.”

Johnny set the glass down with a dramatic sigh. “Classic move. Probably rehearsed.”

Hope rolled her eyes and walked around the counter to hug him. “Relax. It’s just a crush.”

He hugged her back, arms still stiff like he wasn’t quite ready to accept this stage of parenting. “You’re not allowed to have those until you’re thirty.”

“Too late,” she said, pulling away. “Also, I think he likes cats.”

Johnny turned to Yuta. “Tell me that’s not manipulative. She knows I love cats.”

Hope threw her head back laughing and walked off toward her room. “You’re such a dad, it’s ridiculous.”

Yuta leaned into Johnny’s side, smirking. “You okay?”

“I’m going to need a minute.”

“She’s still your baby.”

“She’s turning into a whole person. With dimples and sketchbooks and… feelings.”

Yuta rested his head on Johnny’s shoulder. “We knew this would happen.”

“Yeah,” Johnny said, watching the hallway where she disappeared. “I just thought I had a little more time before I had to start practicing my ‘you hurt her, I hurt you’ speech.”

Yuta patted his chest. “You’ve had it memorized since she was three.”

Johnny sighed, but the corner of his mouth curved. “She’s growing up.”

“Yep. And you’ll still be her appa. Even when she’s in love with someone else’s dimples.”

Johnny groaned and covered his face with his hands. “I hate this already.”

Yuta laughed and kissed his cheek. “You’ll live.”

-

Hope sat on the edge of the bed, hands clenched around the hem of her shirt, trying not to fidget. She’d already changed outfits twice and asked Yuta if her hair looked weird four different times. Now she sat perfectly still as Yuta stood behind her, gently running a brush through her thick, dark hair.

“You don’t have to be so tense,” he said softly. “I’m not going to burn you with the curler. You’ve survived me doing this for dance recitals. We’re past the danger zone.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t a recital. It’s my first date,” Hope muttered, cheeks warm.

Yuta smiled faintly, still focused on the strands he was curling. “You act like you’re being sent into battle.”

“It feels like a battle. My stomach is in full rebellion.”

He set down the curler and gently adjusted a strand near her cheek. “Well, you look great. And if this Mark kid is smart, he’ll realize that pretty quick.”

Hope glanced at him in the mirror. “What if I say something dumb?”

“Then he laughs and falls in love with your weird sense of humor.”

Hope groaned, and Yuta handed her the lip gloss. “You’ll be fine.”

She took it with a small smile, dabbing some on. “Thanks, Dad.”

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Hope froze. “Oh no.”

Yuta glanced at the clock. “He’s five minutes early. He must really like you.”

She stood up like she was about to be interrogated under a spotlight. “Please tell appa to behave.”

“I’ll do my best,” Yuta said, but they both knew Johnny had been pacing around the living room like a territorial cat since 5 PM.

By the time they made it to the door, Johnny had already opened it and was standing there with crossed arms and a neutral face that somehow still managed to look vaguely threatening.

Mark, bless him, looked like he was about to faint.

He stood awkwardly in a button up and jeans that he’d clearly ironed. His curls were neat, his shoes clean, and his palms visibly sweating as he extended a hand.

“H-hi, Mr. Suh. Sir. Mr. Sir.”

Johnny stared for a second too long, then took the hand. “You’re early.”

“Sorry. I didn’t want to be late.”

Yuta stepped in before Johnny could continue the interrogation. “You must be Mark.”

Mark turned to him and immediately relaxed just a little. “Yes, sir. I mean, yes. I’m Mark.”

Hope appeared behind them, hands clasped in front of her. “Hi.”

Mark’s whole face lit up. “Hey.”

Johnny eyed the interaction silently, arms still crossed, while Yuta watched with mild amusement.

“I’ll have her back by nine,” Mark said quickly.

Johnny nodded once. “Eight.”

Mark blinked. “Ooh. Okay.”

“Nine.” Yuta said lightly, nudging Johnny out of the way. “Ignore him. Nine is fine.”

Hope rolled her eyes and grabbed her jacket. “We’re just getting dinner and maybe walking a bit after.”

Johnny still hadn’t uncrossed his arms. “Text when you get there.”

“I will,” she said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Bye, appa.”

Mark held the door for her and gave one last nod to both men. “Nice to meet you.”

When the door shut behind them, Johnny let out a breath he’d clearly been holding.

Yuta turned to him. “You okay?”

Johnny finally dropped his arms. “He’s too polite. What is that?”

“He’s nervous,” Yuta said, moving back toward the kitchen. “You looked exactly like that when you first met me.”

Johnny blinked. “I did not.”

“You absolutely did. Red in the face, fumbling over your words, like I was going to eat you alive.”

Johnny narrowed his eyes. “You were wearing rings on every finger and eyeliner. I thought you might eat me alive.”

Yuta laughed, opening the fridge. “He’s sweet. And she clearly likes him.”

Johnny sighed, pouring himself a glass of water. “I don’t like that she’s old enough to have taste in boys.”

“She’s got good taste. That should scare you more.”

Johnny groaned into his glass. “This is going to be a long night.”

Yuta leaned against the counter with a small smile. “She’s in good hands. You were once a nervous, blushing boy too. And look how that turned out.”

Johnny looked at him and smiled, soft despite everything. “Yeah. Still not over that.”

-

Mark dropped Hope off at 8:45 on the dot.

Johnny checked the time twice just to make sure it wasn’t a coincidence. Fifteen minutes early. He opened the door before they even reached it.

“Evening,” Mark said, giving him a nervous smile.

“Early,” Johnny replied, arms folded but slightly more relaxed than before.

“I, uh… figured better safe than sorry.”

Johnny nodded slowly, like he was confirming a theory. “Smart. Very smart.”

Behind Mark, Hope rolled her eyes. “Appa.”

Johnny pretended not to hear her, then stepped aside so she could walk in.

“Thanks for bringing her back on time,” he added pointedly to Mark, loud enough for Hope and Yuta, who was already lounging on the couch to hear.

Mark gave a small, polite wave toward the living room. “It was nice meeting you both.”

Yuta smiled and waved back. “Drive safe.”

Mark disappeared down the hallway, and the door clicked shut behind him.

Johnny turned to the living room with a smug look that could’ve powered an entire city.

“Did you see how nervous he was again?” he said, unbuttoning his cuffs like he’d just completed a military drill. “Barely made eye contact. That’s respect.”

Yuta looked up from the couch, unimpressed. “That’s fear.”

“Same thing,” Johnny said, plopping down beside him. “I think I earned some real father in law points tonight.”

Hope tossed her jacket on the arm of the couch and flopped into the armchair across from them. “You’re unbelievable.”

Johnny leaned back, hands behind his head. “I’m protective. It’s a compliment.”

“Protective is one thing,” Yuta said, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “Acting like you’re a secret service agent guarding the crown jewels is another.”

“He flinched when I said eight,” Johnny said proudly.

“Yeah, and then he said something really sweet while walking me to the door,” Hope added casually.

“Oh?” Yuta asked, already smiling.

“Yeah,” she said, glancing at him. “He said, ‘Your dad has a really beautiful smile. You kind of have the same one.’”

Johnny sat up like someone had slapped him. “What?”

Hope blinked innocently. “What? He noticed.”

Johnny looked at Yuta like he’d just realized his husband had been fraternizing with the enemy. “Why is he noticing things about you?”

Yuta raised both eyebrows. “Me?”

“You’re my husband!” Johnny practically shouted. “He’s supposed to be paying attention to our daughter not you!”

Hope burst out laughing, doubling over in her chair.

Yuta tried and failed to suppress a grin. “Jealous?”

“No! I’m not!” Johnny huffed, crossing his arms like a sulking teen. “He’s just getting too observant. That’s all. Too many details. Dangerous.”

“He complimented my smile,” Yuta said slowly, dragging it out. “Said his girlfriend had it too.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Sounds like it is.”

Hope wiped a tear from her eye. “I can’t believe you’re jealous of a seventeen year-old.”

“I’m not jealous,” Johnny grumbled. “I’m concerned.”

“Concerned that someone else noticed how lucky you are?” Yuta teased.

Johnny pointed a dramatic finger at him. “I am the only one allowed to call you beautiful in this house.”

Hope cackled again, grabbing a throw pillow and hugging it to her chest. “You guys are so embarrassing.”

“And you’re grounded,” Johnny said, but he was smiling now, the faux outrage giving way to fondness as he watched them both laugh.

Yuta leaned into his side and whispered, “Still winning, though.”

Johnny wrapped an arm around him and sighed. “Yeah. But next time I’m answering the door in a tank top.”

-

It started over something small.

Too small, really. A misunderstanding about a text, a missed call, a joke that didn’t land right, one of those trivial things that somehow picks up weight like lint, until it’s bigger than either person intended.

Hope came home with her backpack slung low on one shoulder, eyes red and puffy in a way that meant she’d been trying not to cry in public. She didn’t even take off her shoes before she walked straight past Yuta in the kitchen.

He paused mid-chop, frowning as he heard her door shut behind her. Quiet, but not slamming. Just tired.

A few minutes later, Johnny walked in from work, jacket over his arm. “Hey,” he greeted softly, kissing Yuta on the cheek. “Is she back?”

Yuta nodded, setting down the knife. “Yeah. Something’s off. She walked straight to her room, didn’t say a word.”

Johnny looked toward the hallway. “Mark?”

“Probably.”

They didn’t talk for a moment, just exchanged that shared glance, the one that always came up whenever their daughter hurt in a way they couldn’t immediately fix.

“I’ll go,” Johnny said quietly.

But Yuta reached for his wrist. “Let me try first.”

Hope was lying on her bed, still in her jacket, arm flung over her face like she couldn’t bear the light. Yuta knocked once, then pushed the door open.

“Hey.”

She sniffled. “Don’t want to talk.”

Yuta sat down anyway. “Good. I’m not here to talk. Just to sit.”

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t push him away either. After a moment, she rolled onto her side, facing him. Her lip wobbled.

“I think we broke up.”

Yuta’s chest tightened, but he kept his voice even. “You think?”

Hope took a shaky breath. “He got weird about me canceling on movie night. I had to stay late for the art club meeting. And then I saw him texting this other girl in class the next day. I asked him about it, and he got defensive. Said I was overthinking everything. Said I didn’t trust him.”

Yuta didn’t say anything yet. Just let her vent.

“I didn’t yell,” she added quickly. “I just… got upset. He said maybe we should take a break if I can’t be chill about things. And then I walked away.”

Yuta brushed her hair back from her forehead. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Her face crumpled. “I feel stupid. It was just one dumb argument.”

“It’s never just one argument when you care,” Yuta said gently. “It always feels bigger.”

There was a knock at the doorframe, and Johnny peeked in. “Can I come in?”

Hope sat up, wiping her face. “Yeah.”

He entered slowly, crouching down by the bed on the other side. “So… he was texting someone else, huh?”

“Appa..”

“No, no. I’m just clarifying the facts.”

Hope let out a small, miserable laugh.

“I’m sorry it went like this,” Johnny said, softer now. “But you didn’t do anything wrong. You stood up for how you felt. That matters.”

“It still hurts,” she whispered.

“I know,” Johnny said, pulling her into a hug. “I know it does.”

They stayed like that for a while, Hope sandwiched between the two of them, clinging tightly.

“I just thought we were gonna be okay,” she murmured after a minute. “We were doing fine last week.”

Yuta kissed the top of her head. “People change. Feelings shift. It sucks, but it’s part of it. Doesn’t mean you loved wrong.”

Johnny gave her a small smile. “And you still have your old guys here.”

Hope let out a snort. “You sound so dramatic.”

“Heartbreak calls for drama,” Johnny said with mock offense.

“Are you gonna go threaten him tomorrow?”

“No. I’m going to stare at him silently until he leaves school early.”

That finally earned a real laugh out of her. Yuta smiled too, watching her shoulders relax just slightly.

“Can we order ramen?” she asked, voice smaller now.

“Of course,” Yuta said.

“With extra toppings?”

Johnny ruffled her hair. “Anything for our heartbroken baby.”

“Appa,” she groaned.

But she didn’t pull away from them.

And later that night, when she fell asleep on the couch in Johnny’s hoodie, empty bowls on the coffee table and tissues everywhere, Yuta glanced at Johnny over her head and whispered, “She’s gonna be okay.”

Johnny nodded, eyes still on her. “Yeah. She’s ours.”

-

The apartment was unusually quiet that morning.

Too quiet.

Yuta moved around the kitchen mechanically, pouring water into a travel thermos and checking the stovetop even though he hadn’t turned it on. He caught himself looking at the hallway, waiting for the sound of soft footsteps, a sleepy voice asking if there were any more clean socks, or if he’d packed her extra charger.

But the hallway was empty. The room at the end of it, too.

Hope had left early. Her train departed just after sunrise, headed for the university campus three hours away. New city. New life. First day of college.

They had helped her pack the night before. Johnny had insisted on folding all her shirts “the right way” and Yuta had labeled her skincare bottles like she’d forget what toner looked like. The whole night felt quiet but full, like all three of them knew something was shifting but none of them wanted to say it too loud.

Now she was gone.

Johnny walked into the kitchen still barefoot, hair uncombed, rubbing his eyes with the back of his wrist.

“Did you sleep?” Yuta asked.

“Barely,” Johnny mumbled. “She texted me, though. Said she got on the train. Seat by the window. Already made friends with a girl who brought a cat calendar.”

Yuta smiled softly. “That sounds like her.”

Johnny leaned against the counter. “I hate this.”

“She’s not gone forever.”

“She might as well be,” Johnny muttered. “What are we supposed to do now? There’s no cereal left out on the counter. No hair ties in the sink. No art supplies on the floor. No one yelling from the bathroom because someone else used her conditioner.”

“She said she was gonna call every night.”

“I know. It’s just…”

Johnny trailed off. He wasn’t crying, but he looked like someone trying really hard not to.

Yuta reached out and tugged him in by the sleeve. “Come here.”

Johnny leaned into the hug, resting his forehead on Yuta’s shoulder. “She was just five yesterday.”

“No. Yesterday she was seventeen and sneaking cookies at 2 a.m. pretending she wasn’t.”

Johnny laughed quietly. “I wanted to walk her to the train.”

“She wanted to do it alone. She needed to.”

They stood like that for a moment. 

Then Johnny pulled away a little. “Think she’s eaten?”

“She packed that snack box you made her. The one with the little note in it that you swore wasn’t cheesy.”

“Hey,” Johnny protested. “It was sentimental.”

“She called it corny.”

“She still smiled when she read it.”

Yuta smirked. “That’s true.”

Just then, both their phones buzzed at the same time.

A picture. Hope in her dorm room, half-unpacked, holding up the stuffed bear Johnny had given her when she was ten. Her text read:

“Made it. Love you both. Tell Appa to stop texting me every five minutes.”

Yuta grinned. “You think she’ll be okay?”

Johnny stared at the photo for a second, then set the phone down and exhaled.

“She’s going to be amazing.”

-

Their 20th Anniversary

Yuta woke up to an empty bed.

He reached for the other side, still warm, but Johnny was already gone. For a moment, he blinked at the ceiling, unsure if he’d overslept, until the door creaked open and the scent of toast and coffee filled the room.

Johnny walked in, hair messy from rushing, tray in hand.

“Happy anniversary,” he said, grinning.

Yuta sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “You made breakfast?”

“It’s nothing fancy,” Johnny replied, placing the tray in front of him. “But Hope insisted I use the heart-shaped plate. Said it was legally required.”

Yuta smiled at the mention of her. “Where is she?”

“With Taeyong and Jaehyun. She left early. Said not to worry and that we’re not allowed to ask questions.”

Yuta raised an eyebrow. “That sounds dangerous.”

Johnny just shrugged and kissed the side of his head. “Come on. Eat. We’ve got plans.”

They spent the morning walking one of the trails outside the city, just the two of them, winding through soft hills and tall trees. The summer air was warm, but not stifling, and for most of the hike, they didn’t talk much. They didn’t need to. Their rhythm was comfortable, familiar,  a quiet togetherness that only years could shape.

At the top of a clearing, Johnny paused.

Yuta turned toward him, a question in his eyes.

Johnny reached into his backpack and pulled out two small folded letters, each sealed with gold stickers.

Yuta frowned. “What’s this?”

Johnny handed him one, keeping the other. “We wrote letters to each other on our tenth anniversary. You remember?”

Yuta nodded slowly, his fingers already peeling the seal open.

Johnny smiled. “I found them in that old box of mine. Figured it was a good time to read them again.”

They sat on a bench overlooking the city, each quietly reading the letter written a decade ago, voices only heard by the trees and wind. By the end of his, Yuta was blinking rapidly, the paper trembling in his hand.

“You wrote,” he said softly, “that no matter what changed, you’d never stop learning how to love me.”

Johnny reached over and covered his hand. “I meant it. I still do.”

That evening, after showers and a bit of rest, Johnny took Yuta out again, this time to a quiet, candlelit restaurant tucked into an old courtyard. The kind of place with no music, just the occasional clinking of glasses and soft murmurs.

The waiter poured wine, but neither of them touched it right away.

Johnny looked across the table at Yuta, his expression full but quiet.

“I keep thinking about how we started,” he said. “Back in college, when I could barely string a sentence together around you. I used to get nervous just watching you talk.”

Yuta smiled gently. “You still stutter when I catch you staring.”

Johnny chuckled, then leaned forward, his voice lower. “I’ve watched you become a father. A partner. Someone stronger than I think even you realize. You’ve carried our family through every hard day without asking for anything back.”

Yuta swallowed, his fingers curling around his glass.

“I’ve seen us go through everything,” Johnny continued. “From first apartments to sleepless nights with Hope. From arguments over nothing to moments where we just held each other and didn’t speak. And still, after all this time, I wake up and feel lucky that you’re mine.”

Yuta looked down, lips pressed together to hold in emotion. “You’re not supposed to make me cry in public,” he whispered.

Johnny’s smile softened. “You’re allowed to cry. Just don’t make me cry too. You know I’m terrible at holding it together.”

They sat in silence for a beat.

“Do you remember,” Yuta said eventually, “when we used to talk about growing old together? Back when we were twenty and thought thirty was ancient?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re closer to fifty now than twenty.”

Johnny raised his glass. “And I’d still choose you every time.”

Yuta wiped the corner of his eye, laughing quietly. “You’re getting more sentimental with age.”

“You’re just noticing now?”

When they got home, the apartment lights were dimmed, but the living room glowed with a soft golden hue. There was something new on the wall. Yuta stepped closer, and his breath caught.

A massive collage,  framed neatly, filled with photos that spanned decades. Hope as a baby, Yuta in the hospital holding her with tired eyes. Johnny asleep on the couch, Hope curled against his chest. Snapshots from college, blurry dorm selfies, hiking trips, dinner parties. Notes and ticket stubs tucked in corners, small scribbles in Hope’s handwriting at the bottom:

“To the two people who showed me what real love looks like. Happy 20th.”

Yuta turned, eyes wet again.

Hope stepped out from the hallway, sheepish but proud. “Taeyong helped dig up some old photos. Jaehyun printed them. Surprise?”

Johnny pulled her into a tight hug, laughing into her hair.

Yuta stood there a moment longer, staring at their life stitched together in paper and ink. When Johnny reached for his hand, Yuta laced their fingers slowly.

“Twenty years,” Yuta whispered.

Johnny squeezed gently. “And we’re just getting started.”

-

The house was louder than it had been in years.

Hope’s laughter rang through the hallway as she dragged two overstuffed suitcases into the living room, her fiancé Sam trailing behind, arms full of wrapped boxes and a coat barely hanging onto his shoulder.

Yuta came rushing out of the kitchen, apron still tied around his waist, face lighting up the moment he saw them. “You’re early!”

“Surprise!” Hope beamed, throwing her arms around him. “We caught an earlier train.”

Yuta hugged her tightly, then turned to Sam with a bright, welcoming smile. “Come in, Sam. You hungry?”

Sam grinned. “Always.”

Yuta had barely taken the bags off Sam’s shoulders before he was ushering him toward the kitchen. Hope rolled her eyes, laughing as she peeled off her scarf.

Johnny stepped out from the hallway, pausing at the sight of Yuta already chatting away with Sam about food, recipes, and how to keep their dumplings from falling apart.

“They didn’t even take their shoes off,” Johnny muttered.

Hope bumped his shoulder with hers. “You’re not jealous already, are you?”

“Of course not,” Johnny said quickly.

Hope gave him a long look.

Johnny huffed. “Okay, maybe a little. He’s already in love with your dad.”

“He likes you too.”

“He hasn’t looked me in the eyes for more than four seconds.”

“Maybe he’s just scared of you.”

Johnny raised a brow. “Why would he be scared of me?”

Hope smirked. “Because you’re big, quiet, and you squint when you’re thinking. He thinks you’re analyzing him.”

“I am analyzing him.”

Hope laughed. “Exactly.”

Later that night, after dinner and a too competitive round of cards, Sam excused himself to the balcony for some air. Johnny followed, pulling on a sweater and stepping out into the chilly evening.

Sam glanced over, stiffening slightly. “Hey.”

Johnny nodded and stood beside him at the railing. “You good?”

Sam hesitated. “Yeah. Just… still nervous, I guess.”

Johnny looked out into the dark yard. “Why?”

“You. Mostly.”

Johnny blinked. “Me?”

Sam chuckled awkwardly. “I mean, Hope’s told me all about you. How you’re protective. How you don’t say much unless you mean it. I guess I’ve just… felt like I had to prove something.”

Johnny leaned against the rail, considering that. “Is that why you’re best friends with Yuta already?”

Sam laughed, a little sheepishly. “To be fair, he scared me at first too. But then he smiled. And he has Hope’s smile. That was the moment it hit me, you know? That I’m really joining her family.”

Johnny’s expression softened. “That’s not a bad reason.”

Sam looked down at his hands. “I just didn’t want you to think I’m not serious. I love her. And I want to do right by her.”

Johnny turned, finally facing him fully. “You being nervous? That tells me more than any speech ever could. The fact that you care what I think means you’re already taking this seriously.”

Sam exhaled, shoulders relaxing slightly.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” Johnny added. “Just be good to her. Be her partner. Show up when it matters.”

“I will,” Sam said firmly.

Johnny nodded. “Then we’re good.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the cool breeze passing between them. Inside, Yuta and Hope’s laughter echoed from the kitchen.

“You know,” Johnny added with a smirk, “I wouldn’t mind if you liked me just a little more than Yuta.”

Sam laughed. “I’ll work on it.”

“Good. Because I make better pancakes.”

“Now that’s a challenge I’m willing to test.”

They went inside together, the porch door clicking shut behind them. Johnny glanced toward the kitchen just as Yuta turned and caught his eye, a quiet smile exchanged between them.

Hope watched them from the couch and whispered to herself, amused, “Look at that. He finally cracked the Appa code.”

-

The morning was quiet and soft, with the kind of early sunlight that slipped lazily through the kitchen windows and made everything feel a little slower, a little warmer.

Sam shuffled into the kitchen, hair still slightly damp from his shower, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He stopped short when he saw Yuta already dressed, tying his shoelaces by the door, keys in hand.

“Ohsorry,” Sam said, startled. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Yuta glanced up and smiled. “Not interrupting. I was just about to head out.”

“Where to?”

“Grocery store. We’re out of eggs and, somehow, milk. And I wanted to make miso soup for lunch. Thought it’d be nice to do something a little homemade for your first morning here.”

Sam hesitated, then stepped forward. “Want company?”

Yuta blinked, surprised. “You want to come with me to the grocery store?”

Sam shrugged, a little sheepish. “Is that weird?”

“No,” Yuta said, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Just unexpected.”

A few minutes later, they were in Johnny’s car, Yuta at the wheel, Sam in the passenger seat with a reusable bag bunched in his lap. The radio played softly, some old Japanese ballad Yuta hummed without thinking. Sam looked out the window, then glanced sideways.

“I always imagined your house being a little more chaotic,” he admitted. “You know, since Hope grew up there.”

Yuta laughed lightly. “It used to be. When she was little, she’d line her stuffed animals on the stairs every night. Like some kind of security system. We tripped over bears and dinosaurs for years.”

“Sounds like her.”

Yuta nodded, smiling to himself. “She was always particular. Even when she was five, she knew exactly how she wanted things. She used to tell Johnny and me how to dress when we went out. ‘No mixing stripes and patterns, Appa. Dad, not that jacket. It makes you look like a tired wizard.’”

Sam grinned. “I think I heard that story once.”

Yuta pulled into the store parking lot, slipping into a space near the back. They got out together and made their way inside.

They moved through the aisles easily, Yuta checking his list, Sam offering to push the cart. They joked about how many types of rice were too many and stood for a full five minutes comparing tofu brands. Every now and then, someone greeted Yuta by name, a neighbor or store worker, and Sam quietly watched how gentle he was with each person, how comfortable.

At one point, near the produce section, Sam broke the silence.

“Hey… I know we haven’t talked much. Just the two of us, I mean.”

Yuta looked over, slightly puzzled.

“I just wanted to say thanks. For being so… welcoming. For letting me be here.”

Yuta paused for a moment, then smiled. “You’re part of the family now. You don’t have to earn a spot.”

Sam looked down, fingers trailing the edge of the cart. “I guess I’m still figuring out how to be in your world. Hope means everything to me, and sometimes I think about how long she’s had you and Johnny. How close you all are. It’s kind of intimidating.”

Yuta chuckled. “It was intimidating to us too. At first.”

Sam blinked. “Really?”

Yuta picked up a bundle of green onions, inspecting them absently. “No one knows what they’re doing when they first start loving someone. Not really. We just show up. Try. Make mistakes. Try again.”

He looked at Sam, voice calm. “You’re doing that. And that’s enough.”

Sam stood quiet for a moment, then gave a small, grateful nod. “Hope really has your smile, by the way.”

Yuta laughed. “Johnny says the same thing. Thinks it’s unfair.”

They finished shopping slowly, taking their time. On the way home, the windows were down, and Yuta reached over to turn the volume up on the radio when one of Hope’s childhood favorite songs came on. Sam laughed and sang along quietly, off key and smiling.

-

Hope blinked awake.

A sound, quiet, but off. Not the creak of pipes or the settling of the house. Something closer. She sat up slowly, heart already beating a little faster.

Then she heard it again.

A dull thump. A voice. Familiar. Strained.

She kicked her blanket off and slipped into the hallway barefoot.

There, just outside her bedroom, she saw it, her dad hunched over, one hand braced on the wall, the other gripping his chest. Johnny was crouched in front of him, panic barely hidden behind his steady voice.

“Yuta, hey, look at me. Stay with me.”

Yuta’s face was pale, his breathing shallow. “I… I can’t catch my breath,” he muttered. “Something feels wrong. My chest… it’s tight.”

Hope’s voice tore from her throat. “Dad?!”

Johnny turned, alarmed, as she rushed forward. “Hope, stay calm, he just got dizzy, but now it’s something more. I don’t know what’s going on.”

Yuta looked up at her, sweat on his forehead, eyes unfocused. “I didn’t want to wake anyone. Thought it would pass…”

Hope ignored the fear crawling up her spine and knelt beside them. “You’re going to the hospital. Sam!”

She ran, banging on the guest room door. “Sam! Get up! It’s my dad, we need to go now.” 

The hospital lights were harsh and cold, even though the room was warm. Johnny sat in the corner, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tight. Hope was pacing. Sam stood nearby, trying to be present but not in the way.

Yuta was in the room next door, undergoing tests. ECG, blood work, a chest X-ray. They’d ruled out a heart attack, but something was still off, his heart rhythm wasn’t stable. The doctor had called it arrhythmia, mild, but sudden. Brought on, maybe, by stress, maybe dehydration. Maybe more. They didn’t know yet.

Hope’s fingers shook as she pulled her hoodie tighter around her. “Why didn’t he say anything? Why didn’t he tell us he’d been feeling off?”

Johnny rubbed his face. “Because he didn’t want to worry us. Because he’s stubborn.”

“He could’ve collapsed alone,” she whispered. “He could’ve…” She stopped herself.

Sam gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “But he didn’t. You found him. He’s okay now.”

“Is he?”

No one answered.

They were finally allowed into the room an hour later.

Yuta sat on the bed, IV in his arm, looking smaller than usual under the hospital sheets. He managed a tired smile when he saw them, but Hope could see it didn’t reach his eyes.

“The doctors said it’s a rhythm thing,” he said. “My heart’s… skipping beats sometimes.”

Johnny stepped forward quickly. “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been feeling off?”

“I thought it was just exhaustion. You’ve been working so hard lately. I didn’t want to add more.”

Hope folded her arms. “That’s not fair.”

“I know,” Yuta said gently. “I just… didn’t think it was anything.”

“Well, it is,” Johnny said, voice low and tight. “And now we have to be more careful. Monitor it. Medication, appointments…”

Hope’s voice cracked. “You scared me so much.”

Yuta finally looked at her fully. “I’m sorry.”

She walked over slowly and sat on the edge of the bed. “Don’t do that again. Don’t hide how you’re feeling. I don’t care how small it is.”

He nodded, eyes misty. “Okay.”

Sam stood back, quiet and respectful, while Johnny came up behind her and placed a hand on Yuta’s leg, thumb brushing over the blanket. “You don’t have to carry everything on your own, you know.”

“I think I forgot that,” Yuta murmured. “I’m just used to… keeping it together.”

Hope leaned her head gently on his shoulder. “You don’t always have to.”

Johnny’s fingers laced through Yuta’s. “From now on, we watch you. And you let us.”

Yuta’s voice was almost a whisper. “Okay.”

Back at home later that morning, Hope stayed close to Yuta, making sure he had water, making sure he sat when he needed to. Johnny hovered, quietly researching cardiologists and lifestyle changes without saying much.

Yuta caught Hope watching him again while he read on the couch.

“I’m still me, you know,” he said softly.

“I know.”

He reached out and tugged gently at her sleeve. “But I’m sorry I scared you.”

She sat beside him. “Don’t be sorry. Just promise you’ll let us take care of you too.”

Yuta pulled her into a side hug. “I promise.”

-

It wasn’t their anniversary.

It wasn’t a birthday, or a milestone. But Johnny had decided it was time.

Yuta sat in the passenger seat of their car, arms crossed loosely, still not sure where they were going. “Are you going to tell me now?” he asked, not for the first time.

Johnny smiled without looking over. “We’re almost there. Just be patient.”

“I am patient. You’re the one who gets twitchy if someone makes you wait for a latte.”

“Don’t come for my caffeine needs,” Johnny muttered, and that made Yuta laugh softly, his voice raspier these days but still music to Johnny’s ears.

They drove for a little while longer until they turned onto a quiet road lined with tall trees and sloping fields. There, nestled in a small open patch, was a cottage. Clean-lined, warm-toned wood, deep windows with pale curtains. A porch swing. A soft breeze rolled over the hills, carrying the scent of thyme and lavender.

Yuta sat up straighter. “Johnny…”

Johnny parked the car but didn’t move yet. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a single key, pressed it into Yuta’s hand.

“It’s yours. Ours. But mostly yours.”

Yuta blinked, looking between the key and the house. “What… is this?”

“You always said you wanted a garden. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere away from all the city noise. A place to just be. I thought… after everything—”

Yuta didn’t let him finish.

He leaned over and kissed him. Soft and slow. Like he couldn’t believe it was real.

They got out of the car together. Yuta’s legs moved carefully, still not as strong as they used to be, but steady enough. Johnny watched as he walked up to the small gate and pushed it open. The soil was already turned in long beds, ready for planting.

And behind the house, a grove of plum trees.

Yuta stood silently for a while, then turned back to Johnny, eyes glassy.

“I don’t know what to say.”

Johnny smiled. “Don’t say anything. Just tell me where you want the hydrangeas.”

Yuta laughed, wiping under his eye quickly. “You remembered?”

“You told me like… twelve years ago. On a walk. You said if you ever had a garden, the first thing you’d plant would be blue hydrangeas.”

Yuta swallowed, overwhelmed.

“This is too much.”

“No,” Johnny said, stepping up behind him and resting his chin lightly on his shoulder. “It’s not even close to enough.”

-

The park trail curved ahead of them, trees casting long shadows across the path, and Yuta had his arm tucked into Johnny’s. A cool breeze drifted by, and Yuta tucked his scarf in tighter while Johnny slowed his pace to match his.

Yuta was doing better. The medication had helped even out the palpitations, and after weeks of adjusting and regular checkups, he looked and felt like himself again, just a little more tired on some days. But today wasn’t one of those days. He was smiling, cheeks pink from the cold, teasing Johnny about how stiff his knees were every time they hit a small hill.

They’d just turned the corner by the duck pond when Johnny’s phone buzzed in his coat pocket.

“Hope,” he said, showing the screen to Yuta before answering.

Yuta smiled immediately. “Tell her I’m winning the walk race.”

“It’s not a race,” Johnny muttered, but he was grinning too as he answered. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey,” Hope’s voice came through, slightly breathless. She looked like she was outside too, phone tilted close to her face, eyes bright. “Are you two walking again? Are you on your old man stroll?”

Yuta snorted. “Say that again when you’re in your forties and your hip starts clicking.”

Johnny leaned in so both their faces could be on screen. “You okay? You look like you’ve got that face on.”

“What face?”

Yuta tilted his head. “The ‘I have something to say but I’m trying to act casual’ face.”

Hope blinked, then laughed. “Okay, okay. You caught me.”

Johnny and Yuta both instinctively slowed their walk.

“You’re not hurt or anything, right?” Johnny asked quickly. “Everything’s okay?”

Hope nodded, shifting the camera slightly. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s okay. Just… I didn’t want to tell you over text.”

Yuta stepped closer to the phone. “Hope. What is it?”

She bit her lip. Then smiled. And tilted the camera down.

In her lap was a small, grainy image. She held it up between two fingers.

A sonogram.

It took a second to register.

Then Johnny’s breath caught. “Is that..”

“I’m pregnant,” Hope said softly. “You’re going to be grandparents.”

Yuta blinked. “What?”

“We were waiting until we had the first scan just to be sure, but yeah,” she continued, voice shaky now. “I’m about eleven weeks.”

Johnny stared, completely frozen.

Yuta raised a hand to his mouth, then lowered it. “Hope…”

“I didn’t want to wait any longer to tell you. I wanted you to be the first to know.”

There was silence for a moment, the weight of it all hitting at once. The park, the breeze, the quiet, suddenly none of it mattered.

Johnny cleared his throat. “I… wow. I think my heart just stopped and restarted.”

Hope laughed softly. “You okay?”

Yuta was still just staring at the screen. “You’re going to be a mom,” he said, voice thin.

“I know.”

“And we’re going to be—”

“You’re going to be amazing grandparents,” she said, before they could even finish.

Johnny finally found his words. “Are you okay? Are you feeling alright? Are you eating enough? What did the doctor say?”

Hope nodded, a little overwhelmed now. “Sam’s been great. I’ve had a bit of nausea but mostly fine. I just… I wanted to see your faces when I told you.”

Yuta stepped off the path a bit and sat on a bench. “I can’t believe this.”

Johnny sat beside him, still holding the phone. “I can.”

Yuta looked at him.

Johnny gave a crooked smile. “She’s always been like you. Brave.”

Yuta’s eyes were glassy. “I didn’t think I’d cry today.”

“Too bad,” Johnny said, voice cracking too. “We’re crying together.”

On the phone, Hope wiped under her eyes too. “I love you both.”

“We love you more,” Yuta whispered.

“Tell Sam we said congratulations,” Johnny added. “But also that we’re going to have a very serious talk about snacks, stroller models, and parenting books.”

“I’ll warn him,” Hope grinned. “I’ll call again tonight. Just… wanted to let you know first.”

After they hung up, Johnny leaned into Yuta.

Yuta leaned back just as hard.

A grandchild. The word hadn’t even settled yet. But Yuta’s hand instinctively covered his chest, not from pain this time, but from the way his heart felt so full it almost hurt.

Johnny kissed the side of his head, quiet for a moment.

“Looks like the next generation’s on the way,” he murmured.

Yuta smiled, soft and amazed. “I hope they get her laugh.”

“I hope they get your stubbornness.”

“We’re doomed, then.”

And they both laughed, sitting there in the middle of the path, already in love with someone they hadn’t met yet.

-

They’d all just returned from a short walk in the park

Yuta insisted it would be good for Hope’s swelling feet, and Johnny had packed snacks in a little tote like it was second nature.

Now, Sam and Johnny were still lingering in the kitchen, talking over tea, while Hope lay back on the couch with a small pillow tucked behind her lower back, one hand resting on her growing belly. Yuta sat beside her, legs curled underneath him, watching her face with that familiar, soft-eyed look only a parent has when seeing their child in a new stage of life.

Hope shifted slightly and exhaled. “This part? The back pain? The needing to pee every twenty minutes? Why didn’t anyone warn me?”

Yuta laughed quietly. “You think I didn’t try to warn you?”

She gave him a look, then smiled. “You never said it this clearly.”

He tilted his head. “Maybe I didn’t want to scare you.”

Hope looked down at her belly, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the curve. “I don’t know how you did it. I’m not even seven months in, and I already feel like my body isn’t mine. Some days, I look in the mirror and I don’t even see myself.”

Yuta’s smile faded into something quieter. He reached for her hand and squeezed it gently.

“It’s okay to feel like that,” he said. “It’s a huge thing your body is doing. Everything shifts. Not just physically.”

She looked up at him. “You and Appa tried for so long. I… I think about that a lot. I think about all the losses you had before me. All the starts that never got to be finished. That must’ve been…”

Yuta nodded slowly. “It broke me sometimes. And I didn’t always talk about it the way I should’ve.”

Hope’s eyes shimmered slightly, and she gave him a wobbly smile. “But you kept trying.”

“Because I knew I was meant to have you,” Yuta said simply. “And when you finally came, you made all of it worth it.”

Hope blinked quickly, tears threatening. “I’m scared I won’t be as strong as you.”

Yuta shook his head. “You don’t need to be strong like me. You’ll be strong in your own way. And you’re not doing it alone.”

In the kitchen, Johnny poured more tea into Sam’s mug without asking. He was leaning against the counter now, arms crossed over his chest, eyes distant in a way that meant he was thinking about something a little too deeply.

Sam noticed. “You alright?”

Johnny let out a slow breath. “Just thinking about how fast it all feels. One minute I was pacing hospital corridors wondering if Yuta was okay… next minute I’m standing in the kitchen with my daughter’s husband.”

Sam gave a quiet smile. “You’ve built something good here.”

Johnny nodded. “It wasn’t easy, though. Especially during the pregnancy. Yuta was… he carried so much, even when he didn’t say it out loud. All those failed attempts before Hope. The anxiety. The pressure. He had moments where he thought he wasn’t enough. That he was the problem.”

Sam looked down at the mug in his hands. “I think Hope feels some of that too. She doesn’t say it, but I can tell.”

Johnny gave a knowing smile. “She’s her dad’s daughter, through and through.”

They both laughed a little. Then Johnny’s voice softened again.

“Listen, I know you already love her. That’s clear. But just remember she’s going to have moments where she doubts herself. She’ll think she’s failing, or not doing it right. And when that happens, don’t try to fix it for her. Just be there. Let her fall apart a little, and help her pick herself back up. That’s what Yuta needed from me the most.”

Sam nodded, quietly taking that in. “I will. I promise.”

Johnny clapped him on the back, then looked toward the living room where he could hear Hope’s soft laugh mixing with Yuta’s voice.

“Good,” he said. “Because she deserves to feel safe, even when she’s scared.”

-

The waiting room was still, hushed in that way hospitals often are in the early hours of morning. Johnny sat forward in the chair, elbows on his knees, hands wrung together. He wasn’t reading the magazine in his lap. He wasn’t doing anything except waiting, listening for every footstep in the hallway and hoping it was the one.

Sam had stood up and sat down at least a dozen times, pacing in small, tight circles. His face was pale, fingers running through his hair more often than not.

But when the door finally opened, both of them froze.

Yuta stepped in quietly, still in scrubs, hair slightly tousled, cheeks flushed, but his eyes were soft and shining with something deeper than exhaustion.

Cradled in his arms, swaddled in a warm yellow blanket, was the tiniest bundle either of them had ever seen.

Yuta’s voice was quiet. “He’s here.”

Sam blinked. “He’s okay? Hope’s okay?”

“They’re both perfect,” Yuta said, smiling now. “She’s sleeping. She did so well.”

Sam surged forward, tears already threatening his voice. Yuta offered the baby carefully, and Sam took him like he was holding the most fragile thing in the world. His face crumpled as he looked down at the little boy’s features, already searching for signs of Hope in them.

He didn’t say anything, not right away. He didn’t need to.

Yuta took a step back and turned to Johnny, who was already standing.

They stood there a second, neither moving.

Then Yuta exhaled, voice barely more than a breath. “Can you believe how far we’ve come?”

Johnny didn’t speak, not yet.

“We had her when we were in our twenties,” Yuta went on, his gaze distant and shimmering. “And now we’re in our fifties with grey hairs and a grandson. Did you ever imagine how perfect our life would be?”

Johnny swallowed hard. “No,” he whispered. “But only because I didn’t think I’d get this lucky.”

Yuta smiled, tired but whole. “I remember holding Hope the first time. I was terrified. I was sure I’d drop her.”

“You didn’t,” Johnny said. “You held her like you’d been waiting your whole life for her.”

“I had been.”

Johnny stepped closer, brushed a strand of hair behind Yuta’s ear, and leaned in until their foreheads touched.

“You gave her the world, Yuta. And now she’s doing the same. You taught her how.”

“I was just trying to keep going,” Yuta said. “Trying not to mess it all up.”

Johnny let out a soft breath of laughter, eyes wet. “You did more than not mess it up. You built a whole life. One I still can’t believe I get to live in.”

They looked over to Sam, still gently rocking the baby, murmuring something soft and reverent under his breath.

“Do you want to hold him?” Yuta asked, looking back at Johnny.

Johnny hesitated. “You sure?”

Yuta nodded. “You’re Appa. You get to hold your grandson.”

Johnny stepped over and Sam carefully passed the baby into his arms. The tiny boy squirmed only slightly, then settled against his chest like he belonged there.

Johnny’s eyes widened, his breath caught, and for a moment the entire room seemed to quiet again.

He looked up at Yuta, voice cracking. “He’s so small.”

Yuta smiled. “So was Hope.”

They both looked at the sleeping baby, then to each other.

“We did it, Johnny,” Yuta whispered. “We built a family.”

Johnny kissed the top of the baby’s head and let his hand find Yuta’s. “And we’ll keep building it. Every single day.”

Yuta squeezed his fingers gently and leaned into him.

Outside, the sky was starting to lighten. A new day was beginning.

So was a new chapter.

-

Hope was propped up in bed, hair pulled back messily, cheeks flushed but glowing in that way new mothers sometimes do. Sam sat beside her, one arm draped protectively across her shoulders, the other gently supporting the tiny newborn bundled in blue and cream.

Yuta and Johnny had returned from stepping out to give them a moment, now standing near the foot of the bed. Yuta’s eyes never strayed far from the baby’s face, and Johnny, while trying to look casual, was clearly on the verge of tearing up for the third time that night.

Hope looked between them, then nudged Sam lightly with her elbow.

“We wanted to tell you his name,” she said softly.

Yuta blinked, then smiled. “You decided already?”

Sam gave a small nod. “We talked about it for a while. But Hope made the final call.”

She glanced down at her son, still drowsy in Sam’s arms, then looked up at her parents. Her voice was steady, but her eyes shimmered.

“We named him Haru.”

Yuta froze for a second, then exhaled softly, the name landing on him like a warm breeze.

Hope smiled at his expression. “It means spring, sunshine… warmth. I wanted something that felt like that, because that’s what I always felt growing up with you two. Like my life was just… warm. Like I was always in spring.”

Johnny raised a brow, pretending to look offended. “So you’re saying we made your life too easy, huh?”

Hope rolled her eyes, grinning. “I’m saying you made it full of light.”

Then she turned toward Yuta. “And I chose a Japanese name because… I still remember how you used to sing to me in Japanese. Even when I was way too old for lullabies, you’d hum them when you thought I was asleep. And I never forgot that.”

Yuta covered his mouth, eyes already wet. He didn’t speak. He just nodded, one small, slow movement.

Johnny crossed his arms and sniffed. “Wow. Okay. So you’re telling me your name inspiration is your other dad’s songs and vibe, and I just get what? Being tall?”

Hope burst out laughing. “You get everything else, Appa. But the lullabies are special.”

Sam chuckled quietly. “She really did insist on this name. I didn’t even try to argue.”

Johnny mock-sulked. “Fine. Name your son after your Dad. But just so we’re clear, when Haru starts crawling, I’m officially his favorite. That’s the rule.”

Yuta let out a laugh, finally stepping closer and brushing a thumb along the baby’s tiny, wrinkled forehead. “He’s already perfect.”

Johnny softened at the sight, all the teasing fading from his face. He looked at Hope, then at the baby again.

“Haru,” he said gently, like testing the name on his tongue. “Yeah. That’s a good name.”

Hope smiled, tired but peaceful. “He’s lucky. He gets to grow up with what I had.”

Johnny wrapped his arm around Yuta, pulling him close. Yuta didn’t resist. He leaned into the touch, heart full, watching their daughter cradle the next chapter of their life.

And even though Johnny pretended to pout a little longer, deep down he was brimming with something far richer than pride.

Their daughter had grown up in love and now, she was building the same kind of world.

-

It started small.

A few skipped meals. A quiet stiffness in Yuta’s joints. A faint breathlessness when he climbed the stairs too quickly. He’d brush it off with a soft laugh and a “must be getting old,” and Johnny, though watching closely, didn't push.

But when Yuta nearly fainted in the kitchen, fingers trembling as he reached for a glass of water, Johnny didn’t say anything. He just took his keys.

The hospital visit turned into a scan. The scan turned into bloodwork. The bloodwork turned into long words and furrowed brows.

An autoimmune condition. Manageable, the doctor said, but chronic. Fatigue. Occasional flare-ups. Monitoring. Medication. Rest.

Johnny sat stiff in the consultation room, his hand in Yuta’s. He wasn’t sure who was gripping harder.

Yuta just nodded. “Alright,” he said quietly, like it was another thing on a long list of things life had handed him to carry.

Later that evening, the house was silent. Hope and Sam had taken Haru to the park to give them space. The sun was going down, casting long shadows across the living room where Yuta sat curled on the couch, a blanket over his legs, tea untouched on the table.

Johnny stood behind him, hands braced on the back of the couch, unsure how to start.

“You should’ve told me sooner,” he finally said.

Yuta didn’t look up. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“I’m always going to worry about you,” Johnny whispered. “You’re… you’re it for me.”

Yuta turned slowly, eyes a little red, but his voice was steady. “We’ve had such a good life.”

Johnny sat beside him, shaking his head. “Don’t talk like that. Don’t talk like something’s ending.”

“I’m not,” Yuta said, looking down at his hands. “I’m just… I’m tired, Johnny. In a different way this time. But I’m okay. I promise. I just need you to not fall apart.”

“I already did,” Johnny muttered. “In the hallway. Hope caught me and told me to get it together.”

Yuta let out a small laugh, and that sound thin, tired, but unmistakably his made Johnny’s eyes burn again.

“I’m not afraid,” Yuta said after a while. “Not really. I’ve lived. I’ve loved. I’ve raised a family. And I still want more of that. I just need to learn how to live slower now. To not keep pretending my body’s twenty-five.”

Johnny nodded, swallowing down everything he wanted to say.

They sat in silence again until Johnny reached over and took his hand.

“We’ll slow down,” he said. “We’ll do it your way. Together.”

And that was it.

No big declarations. No crashing waves.

Just a quiet shift in the rhythm of their lives, an understanding that time moves forward whether they’re ready or not.

But at least, they were still walking it side by side.

-

Yuta knew something wasn’t right the second he stepped into the produce aisle.

His vision blurred at the edges, the colors around him bleeding into each other like wet paint. His fingers tingled, then numbed, the basket on his arm suddenly feeling too heavy. He reached out to steady himself on the edge of a crate of apples, but his knees buckled before he could catch himself.

He didn’t fall completely, not all the way, just dropped down hard onto one knee, one hand gripping the edge of the shelf.

He blinked slowly. His heart was racing, but his limbs felt like soaked fabric.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, fumbling for his phone.

First call: Johnny. Straight to voicemail. He was likely on a site visit,  the last time he’d texted, he said he was touring the new studio build and probably wouldn’t have signal inside the structure.

Second call: Hope. Ringing. Ringing. No answer. Yuta closed his eyes, pressed his head to the cold metal shelf. She’d mentioned taking Haru to the museum today, probably had her phone on silent.

He swallowed, blinking away the faint film over his eyes, and dialed the next number.

“Sam?” His voice cracked.

“Yuta?” Sam’s voice was instantly alert.

“I think I need help.”

Sam drove like hell.

By the time he reached the store, Yuta was seated near the front, slouched on a plastic chair one of the cashiers had pulled out for him. He looked pale. Worn. Small in a way that unsettled Sam more than anything.

They didn’t speak much on the way to the hospital. Yuta kept his eyes closed. Sam kept one hand on the wheel, the other gripping the gearstick tightly like he was afraid something would slip.

At the hospital, they moved fast. A nurse recognized him, gave a tight smile, and ushered him to a room. Blood pressure, vitals, blood draw. Another round of monitoring. This time, more serious.

The verdict came after a few hours: Systemic Lupus Erythematosus. It wasn’t new. Yuta had been diagnosed over a year ago. But this flare-up was sharper than before, a clear sign that he hadn’t been resting the way he was supposed to.

“You need to slow down,” the doctor said, voice firm but kind. “Your body isn’t keeping up with what you’re asking of it. You nearly fainted because your blood pressure plummeted. Rest, low stress, hydration, it’s not optional.”

Johnny burst through the hospital room door not long after.

His face was red,  likely from running inside, maybe from crying too. His eyes locked on Yuta, then darted to Sam, who gave him a nod and stepped out quietly to give them space.

“You didn’t answer your phone,” Yuta murmured.

Johnny moved to the side of the bed, taking his hand. “I was underground. I saw the missed calls the moment I came out. Hope’s phone was off too. She only just saw Sam’s text.”

Yuta just nodded, tired. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Johnny snapped, and then immediately softened. “Yuta. You’re not. And I’m done pretending that letting you run errands alone is fine. It’s not.”

“I just wanted some strawberries,” Yuta muttered.

Johnny huffed out a weak laugh. “You don’t get to guilt me with strawberries right now.”

“I’m not fragile, Johnny.”

“I never said you were,” Johnny replied, quieter now. “But I’m your husband. I get to worry. I get to protect you. That’s part of the deal.”

Yuta looked away.

“You fought so hard to have this life,” Johnny added. “You don’t have to prove anything now by pretending you can handle every little thing. You gave enough. You are enough.”

Yuta didn’t answer, but he didn’t argue either.

Hope arrived not long after, Haru still in her arms. Her face was puffy and pale, like she’d been crying since Sam’s call.

She didn’t say much. Just sat beside her Dad, held his hand with one of hers and her son’s tiny hand with the other.

Yuta looked at her, then at Johnny.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “No more errands alone.”

Johnny exhaled, some of the tension melting from his shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Only because I don’t want to give Sam another heart attack,” Yuta added dryly.

Hope gave a watery laugh, brushing her sleeve under her eyes.

Johnny leaned in and kissed Yuta’s temple, lingering there.

“We’ve still got forever,” he whispered. “Let’s not rush through it.”

-

The doctor’s words were clear, steady, and not unkind.

“The medication’s been managing things well, Mr. Nakamoto, but… we’re seeing some progression. Your kidneys are slightly more inflamed than before. It’s not an emergency, but I want you to be prepared for the possibility of complications down the line.”

Yuta didn’t ask how far down the line. He simply nodded, fingers curled around the hem of his sweater. “Will I need dialysis?”

“Not now. But if the inflammation continues at this rate, we might need to discuss that option later. I’d also recommend more frequent labs, more rest, and…” the doctor hesitated. “More support at home. You’ll have good days, but the bad ones might get harder.”

When they left the hospital, Johnny didn’t say a word. He just held Yuta’s hand tightly, guiding him across the parking lot like he might blow away with the wind.

They drove home with the windows down. It was quiet. The kind of quiet that builds and presses behind the ribs.

At the house, Hope and Sam had taken Haru out to the park. Yuta headed to the bedroom, said he was going to lie down. Johnny went into the kitchen, opened the cabinet, and took out the pill bottles. Five now. Five small pieces of control lined up on the counter.

He stared at them.

His hands braced the sink. His shoulders trembled.

For a man who had always been the strong one, the stable one, the foundation when everything shook,  Johnny let himself crack, silently, in the middle of the kitchen. No gasping, no sobs. Just water in his eyes and an ache in his chest that no breathing could ease.

He didn’t even hear the door until it clicked shut behind him.

Hope stepped inside, her eyes softening instantly. “Appa…”

He turned away, tried to wipe his face quickly. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him. “It’s okay not to be.”

He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was low.

“I don’t know how to do this part,” he said. “I don’t know how to prepare for a future that might not have him fully in it. And it’s like… I’m trying to hold everything together, but inside, I feel like I’m splintering.”

Hope rested her cheek against his chest. “You’re not alone.”

“I know,” he whispered. “But it still feels like I’m failing him.”

Later that afternoon, when Haru came home, he ran down the hallway and jumped into Yuta’s lap, knocking the blanket off his legs.

“Careful,” Johnny warned gently, but Yuta just smiled and caught his grandson in his arms.

“You’re squishing me,” he said, mock-dramatic, and Haru giggled.

“Why do you take so many naps, Dad?” Haru asked, using the name he’d called him since he first learned it. “Are you tired all the time?”

“Something like that,” Yuta said softly, brushing the boy’s hair back. “Sometimes when people get older, or if they’ve been a little sick, their bodies get tired more easily.”

Haru’s nose scrunched up. “But you’re still my superhero.”

Yuta froze, then let out a small breathy laugh. “Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Haru nodded, absolutely serious. “You know everything and you make the best soup.”

Yuta smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead. “Well then, I guess I better keep making that soup, huh?”

Johnny watched from the doorway, arms folded, eyes still a little red. There was something in Yuta’s voice, not sadness exactly, but something deep. Something knowing.

They didn’t talk much that night. Just sat together on the couch, Haru asleep across both their laps, cartoons humming softly from the TV.

Johnny reached over and took Yuta’s hand. No big speeches. No promises.

Just a squeeze, firm and steady.

-

Yuta knew something wasn’t right the moment he opened his eyes.

His joints were stiff, heavier than usual, and his skin prickled like it was too tight. He sat up slowly, wincing. His breath caught, not from pain, exactly, but from the kind of deep, dragging fatigue that didn’t just live in the body, but in the bones.

He tried to stand. His legs buckled.

Johnny heard the thud from the kitchen.

By the time he reached the bedroom, Yuta was on his hands and knees, forehead resting on the floor, his breath shallow and fast.

“Yuta. Hey, I’ve got you.”

Yuta didn’t answer right away. Johnny crouched next to him, one arm steadying his back, the other reaching for his face.

“I can’t move,” Yuta whispered. “Everything hurts, my chest is tight.”

Johnny didn’t hesitate. He called Hope, who called the hospital ahead. Sam arrived in ten minutes and helped them into the car. Yuta kept whispering apologies between breaths, and Johnny kept brushing his hair back, telling him to stop.

The hospital lights were too bright. The beeping too sharp. But eventually, a doctor came in and confirmed what Johnny had feared: a lupus flare, likely triggered by physical overexertion and irregular sleep.

“His inflammatory markers are up,” the doctor explained. “We’ve adjusted his meds and added a short steroid course. He’ll need to stay the night.”

Johnny slept in the chair by Yuta’s bed, holding his hand through the guardrail.

That night, Johnny didn’t cry. But his body ached like it had.

-

A week later, they were back home.

Yuta walked slower now. He needed help getting up some mornings. The fatigue hadn’t fully left. Even brushing his teeth left his arms heavy sometimes. And while the pain meds took the edge off, the uncertainty remained.

He hated feeling like this, like a version of himself that had been sanded down too much.

One afternoon, Johnny found him sitting by the living room shelf, trying to lift a box of old photo albums.

“Don’t,” Johnny said gently.

“I’m not fragile,” Yuta snapped, not mean, just tired.

Johnny crouched beside him. “I know you’re not. But it’s okay to not be strong all the time.”

Yuta’s voice cracked. “What if this is what I become? What if I lose myself slowly, piece by piece?”

Johnny pulled the box away and sat down beside him on the floor.

“Then I’ll help you hold onto every piece as long as I can.”

They sat there, side by side, legs stretched out on the floor, flipping through photos of their twenties. Hope in pigtails. Haru as a newborn. A picture Johnny didn’t even know Yuta had kept, one of Johnny asleep on Yuta’s shoulder in the hospital after Hope was born.

“Even if you forget,” Johnny said, voice low, “even if someday things get worse… I won’t forget. I’ll remember everything for both of us.”

Yuta smiled, small, worn, but real. “You’re so dramatic.”

“And you’re so stubborn,” Johnny said, nudging his shoulder.

“I don’t want you to carry me.”

“You carried me through everything else,” Johnny whispered. “It’s my turn.”

-

The sky was clear, soft blue stretching across the horizon like a blanket.

The family had gathered at the park near their old home, the same place they used to bring Hope when she was little, where she used to chase pigeons and fall into Yuta’s lap, squealing with laughter.

Now Haru was the one running. Four years old, full of energy, darting through the grass with wild hair and scraped knees.

Yuta sat on a thick blanket spread across the ground, a pillow behind his back, a thermos of warm tea by his side. He couldn’t run like he used to. Some days, even standing for too long left him winded. But today was calm. Today was kind.

Johnny sat beside him, one arm around his waist, fingers resting just above his hip, where the pain sometimes flared.

Hope and Sam were chasing after Haru in the distance, pretending to be slower than they were, letting him outrun them again and again. His giggles echoed through the air, wild and clear.

Yuta leaned his head on Johnny’s shoulder. “Did you ever think we’d get this far?”

Johnny kissed the top of his hair. “I hoped. I never let myself believe it fully. But I hoped.”

Yuta watched his grandson trip and tumble into the grass, laughing. “That’s our daughter. That’s her son. That’s… all of us.”

Johnny nodded. “It’s everything we built.”

“Look at him,” Yuta whispered. “He’s got her energy.”

Johnny snorted. “That kid has your exact nose. And your laugh.”

Yuta didn’t argue. His eyes were glassy now, but he didn’t look away.

Then Haru broke free from the game and came running toward them, little legs kicking up dirt. He plopped down between them with a huff and a grin and looked up at Johnny.

“Appa,” he said proudly, “I ran faster than everyone.”

Johnny grinned and ruffled his hair. “I saw that.”

Then Haru turned to Yuta. “Dad! Did you see me?”

Yuta smiled, brushing his hand through Haru’s hair. “I saw you, baby. You were amazing.”

Haru leaned into Yuta’s side. “You always look happy when I run.”

Johnny looked between the two of them and smiled, then reached to pull Haru gently into his lap.

“Would you look at that?” he said quietly. “They both have your smile.”

Yuta looked at him. And in that look was everything, years of marriage, decades of love, sleepless nights, hospital visits, laughter, heartbreak, healing, and now… this peace.

“I’m glad we made it,” he said.

“We didn’t just make it,” Johnny replied. “We lived it. All of it.”

They sat there, all three of them, bathed in the quiet sun. The wind lifted the edges of the blanket. The sky stretched on. And around them, life kept going,  just the way they built it.

Together.

-

One morning, Johnny woke up first.

The sun had just started to peek through the curtains, throwing pale gold lines across the bed.

Yuta was asleep beside him, mouth slightly open, hair silver and soft across the pillow.

Johnny watched him for a moment.

Then reached for the notebook on his nightstand.

He didn’t write much these days. But this morning, something pulled at him.

He flipped to a new page, and wrote:

We built a life. A full one.

We didn’t always get it right. But we stayed.

And I will keep staying.

Even in the quiet. Even when the house is still. I will stay.

Because you are here. Always.

He tore the page out gently and left it on Yuta’s pillow.

Later that morning, Yuta found it.

He didn’t say anything.

He just tucked it into his cardigan pocket.

And when Hope and Haru arrived that afternoon, bringing chaos and cake and stories from school, he sat by the window, Johnny beside him, both of them watching their world unfold like a well-loved story.

Nothing perfect.

Everything enough.

And so, the life they built continued, quietly, beautifully,  in every smile that mirrored Yuta’s, in every stubborn laugh that sounded like Johnny’s, in every hand held, every soft morning, every sunlit breath.

They had lived.

And oh, how they had loved