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Changbin knew he was in trouble the moment Jeongin laughed.
Not the loud kind, no, this one was soft and surprised, the kind that slipped out when Chan proudly showed her the paper crown he’d made and declared himself King of music. Jeongin clapped for him like it was the most impressive thing in the world, eyes warm, smile gentle.
Changbin, sitting a little ways off on the floor, absolutely melted.
Jeongin was sprawled comfortably among the chaos of the living room. Chan sat cross-legged with his crafts, Yongbok leaned against her side with a picture book open upside down, and the twins, were crawling in and out of a blanket fort that had somehow taken over half the room. Jeongin fit right in, laughing when Hyejin dramatically roared at her, patiently holding Jihan’s tiny toy car when he insisted she watch it roll.
Changbin pretended to be busy.
Pretended.
In reality, his brain was doing nothing but this; She’s so cool. She’s so pretty. She just tied Yongbok’s hair without being asked. How is she real?
Every time Jeongin came over, he turned into a quiet mess of admiration and nerves. He wanted to say something. Anything. A compliment. A joke. A hi, I exist and I like you very much. But the words stayed stuck somewhere between his chest and his mouth.
“Binnie?” Chan suddenly looked up. “You’re staring.”
Changbin nearly dropped his phone. “I am not.”
Jeongin glanced over. Her eyebrow lifting slightly, amused. “You kind of are.”
His ears burned. “I was- uh- looking at the wall.”
Jeongin smiled like she knew exactly how unconvincing that was, then turned back to the kids without teasing him further.
Somehow, that made it worse.
Changbin groaned internally and leaned back against the couch.
Okay. I need a plan.
That’s when some movement outside caught his attention.
Through the large living room window, he could see the backyard. His mom, standing near the flower beds, watering plants with quiet focus, and his dad hovered nearby, hands in his pockets at first, then reaching out to brush dirt from her sleeve, leaning in to say something that made her roll her eyes and smile.
Changbin watched as Jisung took the watering can from Hyunjin, insisting she take a break, only to immediately start talking animatedly, gesturing like he was telling the most important story in the world. Hyunjin laughed, shaking her head, but she didn’t stop him. She never did.
Even from inside, Changbin could hear Jisung’s voice faintly through the open window.
“You know,” his dad was saying, dramatic as ever, “these flowers only grow this well because you’re the one standing near them.”
Hyunjin snorted. “Jisung.”
“I’m serious. I water them, they survive. You water them, they thrive.”
Changbin stared.
Jisung leaned closer, murmuring something else that made Hyunjin’s cheeks pink despite herself. She bumped her shoulder into his, smiling fondly, and let him take over the watering completely while she wiped her hands on her jeans.
Something clicked.
Changbin straightened slowly, eyes narrowing, not in suspicion, but realization.
That’s it.
That was how his dad did it. Constant affection. Shameless praise. Gentle attention. Treating his mom like she was the best thing that ever happened to the world, because, to Jisung, she is.
Changbin looked back at Jeongin.
She was now listening very seriously as Yongbok explained a dramatic story involving a dragon, a princess, and fairies. Jeongin nodded along like it was the most logical plot she’d ever heard.
Changbin swallowed, heart pounding.
Okay, he thought. If it works for Dad... maybe it’ll work for me.
He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and stood up.
Jeongin glanced up at the movement. “Bin, where are you going?”
Changbin hesitated, just for a second, then smiled, determined. “I’ll be right back,” he said.
As he walked toward the kitchen, his gaze flicked once more to the backyard, where Jisung was now holding the watering can in one hand and Hyunjin’s hand in the other, still talking, still smiling, still hopelessly in love.
Changbin nodded to himself.
Yeah, he thought. I can do this.
Because now, he had a strategy.
Changbin decided, with the kind of confidence only a fifteen-year-old boy with a crush could have, that he’d cracked the code.
Armed with one brilliant conclusion, Changbin straightened his shoulders and entered the living room like a man on a mission.
Jeongin was sitting on the floor with Chan and Yongbok, helping them sort colored papers for whatever craft project Chan had decided was very important today. The twins were nearby, little Jihan humming to himself while stacking blocks, Hyejin carefully knocking them over and starting again.
Changbin cleared his throat.
No one looked up.
He tried again. Louder.
Chan glanced up. “Binnie, do you need paper?”
“No,” Changbin said quickly. He walked closer, stopping just beside Jeongin. His heart was thumping so loudly he was sure everyone could hear it.
Jeongin finally looked up at him, eyebrows lifting. “What’s up?”
Okay. Step one. Compliment. He’d seen Dad do this a hundred times.
Changbin took a breath. “You… uh... You look really nice today.”
Jeongin blinked once. Then, she smiled politely. “Thanks.” And went right back to helping Yongbok cut a crooked star.
Changbin froze.
That was it?
No flustered laugh. No shy smile. No blush. Not even a second glance.
From the rug, Hyejin squinted at him.
Changbin tried again.
Dad always followed compliments with devotion.
He hovered a little closer. “You know, if you’re tired, you don’t have to sit on the floor. You can take my seat. I’ll stand.”
Jeongin looked up again, this time clearly amused. “I’m fine,” she said easily. “Floor’s comfy.” Then she added, teasing, “But thanks, gentleman.”
Gentleman.
Not wow. Not Changbinnie, stop.
Just… gentleman.
Changbin swallowed.
Okay. Plan B. Acts of service.
He quickly fetched a glass of water from the kitchen and placed it carefully beside her. “You should stay hydrated.”
Chan looked between them. “Why are you talking like Dada?”
Yongbok nodded seriously. “Uncle Han talks like that to Auntie Honey.”
Changbin’s ears burned. “I- just- just drink your water.”
Jeongin laughed softly, and turned fully toward him. “Are you practicing something?”
“No,” he lied. Terribly.
“Because you’re being… very attentive today.” She tilted her head, eyes bright with curiosity.
That sounded promising.
Encouraged, Changbin pressed on. He crouched beside her. “If you want, I can help with the kids. You can relax.”
Jeongin studied him for a second, then smiled again, gentle and entertained. “You already help with them all the time, Changbin.”
And just like that, she went back to the paper stars.
Changbin sat back on his heels, utterly deflated.
He tried one last thing.
Dad’s ultimate move.
Affectionate hovering.
Changbin leaned against the table nearby, arms crossed, gaze soft, at least, he hoped it looked soft and not like he was plotting something.
Jeongin noticed. She snorted. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re trying to solve a university level math problem.”
Chan giggled. “Bin looks constipated.”
Changbin groaned. “Chan!”
The twins laughed too, Jihan even clapped enthusiastically despite not understanding why.
Jeongin laughed with them, warm and easy, completely unfazed. “You’re being weird today,” she said fondly. “But it’s kind of funny.”
Funny.
Not charming. Not heart-racing. Just… funny.
Changbin slumped back, dramatic and defeated, staring at the ceiling.
Nothing worked.
Not compliments. Not devotion. Not hovering. Not being Dad.
“Is Binnie broken?” From the corner of the room, Yongbok whispered to Chan.
Chan nodded. “A little.”
Jeongin glanced at Changbin one more time, smiling with clear affection, but not the kind he wanted.
“You okay?”
Changbin sighed. “Hmm… yeah.”
No.
He was not okay.
Because somehow, his dad’s legendary romance tactics had completely bounced off Jeongin like it was nothing.
That moment, Changbin realized something terrifying.
Jeongin was immune.
To affection.
Or worse...
She was enjoying his struggle.
Changbin had already accepted defeat.
He sat slumped on the living room rug, chin in his palm, staring at nothing in particular while the younger kids built something aggressively unstable with blocks behind him. Jeongin sat nearby, cross-legged, helping Chan color inside the lines with the kind of patience Changbin found unfairly attractive.
Nothing he’d tried worked.
None of it.
Just as Changbin sighed for the fifth time in a minute, the front door opened.
Laughter spilled in first.
“Why do you always buy the heaviest bags?” Minhee’s voice rang out, amused and loud.
“Because you buy everything like the world’s ending,” Seungmin shot back, not even breathless despite holding approximately twelve shopping bags in both hands.
“That’s not true!”
“You said that about the lamp. And the mugs. And the throw pillows.”
“They were cute!”
“They were unnecessary.”
They appeared in the hallway then, Seungmin juggling bags with dramatic suffering, Minhee walking freely beside him, poking his arm every time he complained. They looked like they were arguing, but their smiles betrayed them.
This wasn’t real bickering. This was... them.
“You could’ve carried at least one,” Seungmin said.
“You offered,” Minhee replied sweetly.
Seungmin scoffed. “I didn’t offer, I surrendered.”
Minhee laughed, reaching up to fix his collar anyway. “You love it.”
He did. It showed in the way he leaned into her touch without thinking.
Changbin straightened.
His brain clicked.
Oh.
Ohh.
Jeongin is Auntie Min's sister.
His eyes widened with realization.
Different manual. Different love language.
Seungmin didn’t shower Minhee with words like Jisung did. He teased her. He argued. He complained. He hovered anyway. He carried everything and pretended it was suffering while secretly enjoying every second of it.
Changbin watched closely as Seungmin set the bags down. “Hungry?”
Minhee rolled her eyes. “No.”
“Thirsty?”
“No.”
“Tired?”
“Seungmin.”
He smiled. “Just checking.”
Changbin nodded to himself.
Got it.
Ten minutes later, Changbin tried again.
Jeongin was helping Yongbok with a puzzle when Changbin plopped down beside her a little too dramatically.
She glanced at him. “What?”
He exhaled loudly. “You know, some people around here never help with anything.”
Jeongin blinked. “Are you… talking about me?”
“Yes,” he said immediately. “You’re sitting there doing puzzles while I’ve been suffering all day.”
She looked around. “Suffering from what?”
“From… uh... existing.”
Chan snorted. Yongbok giggled.
Jeongin tilted her head. “That sounds like a you problem.”
Changbin wasn’t deterred. He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You could at least say thank you.”
“For what?”
“For… being here.”
She stared at him for a beat. Then she smiled. Not flustered. Not blushing. Just amused, soft, entertained, fully aware.
“You’re weird today,” she said gently.
Changbin’s heart skipped anyway.
He tried again later when she stood up to get water.
“Careful,” he said casually. “You might trip.”
“I’ve been walking for like seventeen years,” Jeongin replied. “I think I’ll survive.”
“I’m just saying,” Changbin added, grinning, “if you fall, I’ll say I told you so.”
She laughed. Actually laughed this time. “You’re really trying something, aren’t you?”
Changbin froze. “Trying what?”
She shrugged. “No idea. It’s cute, though.”
Cute.
That was not the reaction he wanted. But it wasn’t bad.
Still, there was no blush. No embarrassment. No flustered escape. Jeongin remained perfectly at ease, moving through the room like Changbin’s heart wasn’t doing somersaults.
By the time evening rolled in, Changbin sat back on the couch, utterly confused.
He’d followed both examples. Jisung’s devotion. Seungmin’s banter.
And yet...
Nothing.
Jeongin sat across from him now, chatting easily with her sister and Hyunjin, completely unfazed by his entire emotional crisis.
Changbin ran a hand through his hair, sighing.
“Why is this so hard?” he muttered.
Minhee glanced at him knowingly.
Jeongin didn’t.
And Changbin didn’t realize it yet, but the fact that Jeongin wasn’t reacting the way he expected didn’t mean she wasn’t noticing at all.
It just meant…
he hadn’t found the right way yet.
The evening light had softened by the time Seungmin and Minhee were ready to leave. The front door was open, the air filled with overlapping goodbyes, Yongbok’s voice floating from the driveway as she argued with Seungmin about which song should play in the car.
“Papa, song from uncle Han's company!”
“No, we played that six times already,” Seungmin protested, keys dangling from his finger.
Minhee laughed, sliding into the passenger seat. “Let her win. You’re already carrying all the bags like a loyal husband.”
“I chose this life,” Seungmin replied dramatically, shoving the bags into the backseat.
Changbin watched them from the doorway, arms folded loosely, heart still doing that confused, heavy thing in his chest.
He’d tried everything today. The soft words. The obvious devotion. The teasing bickering. None of it had landed the way he wanted.
Jeongin stepped out beside him, slipping on her shoes, her movements unhurried. The twins had already run back inside, leaving the two of them in a rare pocket of quiet.
“Innie!” Minhee called from the car. “We’re waiting.”
“I’m coming,” Jeongin answered easily. Then she paused, glancing sideways at Changbin.
He straightened without realizing it.
She studied him for a moment, not amused, not teasing, just… honest.
“You know,” she said gently, “I noticed what you were doing today.” Changbin froze as she nodded. “You kept trying to be… someone else.”
His shoulders dropped a little. “I just... I thought maybe if I did things like Dad. Or Uncle Min. I thought-”
Jeongin smiled then, soft and warm, nothing like the unreadable expressions from earlier. “Changbin, those things work for them because that’s who they are.”
She stepped a little closer, voice quiet but steady. “What makes me happy is you being you. When you get excited about random things. When you talk too much. When you try too hard without realizing it. When you are... you.”
Changbin's heart stuttered.
“You don’t need to copy anyone,” she continued. “I already like you. Exactly like this.”
Changbin stared at her, stunned, cheeks heating up in a way none of his planned tactics had managed.
“You… do?”
She laughed softly. “Obviously.”
From the car, Seungmin leaned out the window. “Are we having a moment or can we go?”
Jeongin rolled her eyes affectionately. “We’re done.” She turned back to Changbin, squeezing his arm lightly. “Stop overthinking.”
Then she jogged toward the car, Yongbok immediately leaning out to wave at Changbin like she’d witnessed something monumental.
Changbin stood there as the car pulled away, heart full, chest light, a grin spreading across his face that he didn’t bother to hide.
Turns out, he didn’t need tricks.
He just needed to be Changbin.