Work Text:
Hakyeon wakes with a start, disoriented and catching only the tail of the scream that woke him. He looks immediately to his side and finds Taekwoon, his husband, fast asleep, his fierce face in peace. It was only at times like this that his husband’s face actually reflected his soft heart, at least in other people’s eyes. Hakyeon could always see the softness to him—in the curl of his lips, in the rise of his eyebrows, in the twinkle of his eyes.
Then he remembered that it must have been one of their children’s screams that had woken him, and he wanted to slap himself for getting distracted.
Carefully, he untangled himself from their sheets and Taekwoon’s spidery long arms, trying very hard not to wake him, and his husband stirs. Hakyeon freezes, not even daring to breathe, but Taekwoon doesn’t wake. He mumbles something that sounded a lot like Hakyeon’s name, turns over, and doesn't move again. Grinning stupidly, cheeks flushed with elation, Hakyeon again had to remind himself that he has a child that needs him right now.
He tiptoes out of the bedroom.
————————————-
They had four perfect children, but really only one of them has ever pulled him out of his slumber with a scream, at least ever since Hyuk got old enough to not cry in the middle of the night for a baby bottle or a change of diaper. Hakyeon went immediately towards Wonshik’s room, knowing the exact number of steps to get to his door even in darkness. He had done this plenty of times before.
Wonshik was prone to nightmares. He had been even before they had adopted him, according to the social workers, and very few could comfort him, Hongbin being one of them. That was mainly why they had kept their beds close, but when Wonshik and Hongbin were adopted and after some time in the household, Hakyeon decided that he had to be the one comforts Wonshik. He was the parent. Well, one of. Taekwoon was a really deep sleeper, and Hakyeon was happy to take care of family. So he got them separate rooms.
Hongbin was happy about it. Finally, not only one part of the room, or the closet, or the study table could be clean. For all his love of Wonshik, the boy was a slob and he excused his mess with “This way, I know everything is!”, and that always annoyed Hongbin. Now he had a room of his own, and he was only a few steps away from Wonshik. Win-win, he must have thought.
Wonshik didn’t agree. He used to be bullied for his sharp eyes and less-than-careful mouth, and perhaps he still did, but Hongbin had always been there, still there, to tell anyone off or even fight them off if necessary—For all his pretty looks, Hongbin could have a pretty mean streak, which fortunately never lasted very long, only as long as it had to for Wonshik, who was soft as a marshmallow despite his tough appearance. As far as Wonshik was concerned, he and Hongbin must always be together. His only consolation was that they had a shared bathroom and they were never too far from one another.
That was how and why, every once in awhile, Hakyeon would wake to Wonshik’s screams and, though tired and groggy, he would hold the boy until he fell back to sleep.
However, this time, instead of the sobs that Wonshik always desperately tried to muffle with his pillow, Hakyeon heard something else. He turned the knob as quietly as he could, pushed the door open by a crack, and peered in.
————————————-
Bathed in the dimmed blue light of Wonshik’s bedroom, Hongbin sits against the headboard of Wonshik’s bed, his arms around his brother’s shoulders, hands drawing soothing patterns on his shoulders. Wonshik lies on his stomach in Hongbin's lap, face down, his arms around around his brother's waist, shoulders shaking from his quiet sobs. “You’re okay, Shik-ah. You’re okay,” Hongbin repeats under his breath, his voice sounding deeper than it should for a primary schooler.
On Wonshik’s back is Hyuk, lying face-up and staring up at the ceiling. He wasn’t doing anything particularly helpful. In fact, he might even be suffocating Wonshik with his weight, but he lied there anyway, if only to remind his brother that there was one other person who cared about him.
Well, two actually. Ken sat cross-legged by his brothers’ feet, patting Wonshik’s thigh softly in the slow, rhythmic way parents sometimes did for babies to soothe them to sleep, just as Hakyeon did for him and Hyuk when they were small (well, smaller), as he hummed a lullaby, voice smooth and honey sweet.
A minute. Five. Ten. Hakyeon lost count, but eventually Wonshik’s sobs turned into whimpers, then sighs, and then he was silent. But Ken kept humming, even as he curled up, his patting on Wonshik’s thigh slowing. Hongbin kept his arms around Wonshik, hands going still, big eyes drooping close. Hyuk had fallen asleep completely, though somehow he managed to keep himself balanced on Wonshik’s back.
They didn’t look like they would be leaving their brother any time soon, and Wonshik didn’t look like he needed anyone else to comfort him, Hakyeon realized with a little sting.
Hakyeon was just about to leave, feeling dejected, though glad at least that Wonshik was sleeping again, when he heard Ken ask, “You think eomma woke up?” There was a yawn that could have only been Hongbin, and his groggy voice followed, “I hope not. Eomma needs to rest.” There was a hum of agreement, the rustle of sheets, and soft “good night”s uttered. Then, there was silence.
Heart swelling with pride and love for all their children, Hakyeon quietly, carefully pulls the door close, keeping the knob turned so it didn’t click, and backed away slowly.