Work Text:
The knocking started like a polite suggestion - three evenly spaced taps - and escalated quickly into tiny fists slamming against the wood like the world was ending and only he could fix it.
Aou sat up with a jolt. It was barely morning. Light hadn’t even cracked through the curtains yet. He blinked toward the sound, momentarily wondering if he had dreamed it. Then the thumping started again.
Still halfway tangled in his blanket, he stumbled out of bed. The hardwood floor was cool under his feet as he crossed to the front door. He groaned, dragging a hand across his face. He wasn’t even sure if his brain was fully online yet as he made his way to the door, hair flat on one side, pointed in several different directions on the other.
He peered through the peephole, frowned, then unlatched the lock with a cautious twist and opened it.
There, standing on his doorstep like she’d walked right out of a dream - or possibly a fever hallucination - was a tiny girl. No more than five. She had warm honey-toned skin, messy bangs stuck to her forehead, shoulder length black hair slightly mussed like she’d gotten herself ready without help, and a round face that carried the natural pout of someone used to getting her way. She wore a lilac corduroy overall over a white tee, and clutched the straps of a glittery, translucent backpack.
But what caught him hardest - what knocked the breath from his lungs - was her hair bow. Yellow and lavender. A tiny row of daisies stitched along the edge. The exact same bow their mascot had worn at yesterday’s event.
Not similar.
The same.
“Papa! There you are.”
He blinked, once. Twice.
“You’re so slow,” she said with the deep relief of someone whose day had already been too long. “You took so long.”
Aou stared at her.
“I’m hungry,” the girl announced, pushing past him like the place belonged to her, and padded in on light-up sneakers that blinked every second step.
Aou didn’t move. His hand was still on the door. His mouth, slightly open.
She took off her sneakers and messily left them near the shoe rack, then opened her backpack, tugging out a wrinkled drawing with both hands. “I drew this for you. Daddy helped me color the sky. I wanted to show you yesterday but I forgot ‘cause we had noodles.”
Aou stared down at the paper. There were three stick figures - two taller ones and a blob between them with yellow triangles around the head. All three were holding hands. Above them was a sun with a smiley face and - he squinted - was that a cat? A rabbit? Or a flying bowl?
“Are you... lost?” he finally asked.
She frowned. “No. This is our home.”
She turned and made a beeline for the couch, climbed up on it like she’d done it a hundred times, and grabbed the remote.
Aou closed the door slowly, turned, and stared.
The girl sat with one leg tucked under her, flipping through the home screen of his smart TV like a professional.
His eyes caught on the small corkboard next to the door. Pinned to it was a photo. A photo he didn’t recognize. A candid shot - him and Boom, both holding this same child by the arms, swinging her between them on a sunny sidewalk. She was laughing. Boom was laughing. He was-
Aou’s stomach flipped.
He walked slowly into the living room, still trying to process what the hell was happening. She turned toward him, beaming.
“Can I have toast? The kind with the little corners. And milk but not the one that tastes weird. The one with the cow. You always give me the other one but that one is yucky.”
“Uh…”
“When is Daddy coming home? He said he is not going to work today,” she said, both thoughtful and a little annoyed, then added, “I picked a cartoon.”
“Okay,” Aou replied automatically, then paused. “Wait. No. Not okay. Who are you?”
Her eyebrows furrowed in the way only a very certain child’s can.
“I’m Ceri,” she said, slow and deliberate, as if she were reminding him of his own name, “Silly Papa.”
Aou sat down on the ottoman across from her, arms hanging limply at his sides.
“No, see, the mascot is a costume. It's- it has a star head. You're a- you're not a-”
He ran a hand through his hair, eyes scanning the room for evidence of a hidden camera crew. His gaze flicked over to the side table and landed on a framed photo he could’ve sworn wasn’t there last night. It was a picture of the girl on her birthday. Aou, crouched next to a cake shaped like a yellow star. Boom, holding her around the shoulders from behind. Candles half-melted. Everyone smiling.
The photo was printed - not stuck in there last minute. His own handwriting was in the corner: Our little star Ceri – 5 years old today!
He stood up abruptly.
“Okay. I need to call your- Boom. I need to call Boom.”
She perked up. “Daddy!”
“Don’t say that,” he muttered, frantically thumbing his phone open and wandering into the kitchen as his heart hammered in his chest.
The line connected on the third ring. Boom’s voice was scratchy and a little thick from sleep.
“Ai’Aou… it’s not even seven-”
“There is a child in my home.”
A pause. “...What?”
“A little girl. She walked in. She called me Papa. She’s dressed like Ceri. She said she is Ceri. There’s like… very convincingly photoshopped pictures of us with her in my living room. She’s asking for toast.”
“Is this a prank?” Boom asked, his voice suddenly clearer.
“That’s what I’m asking you. Did you set this up?”
“Do you really think-”
“Then we have a problem.”
There was rustling. Boom was moving. “You’re serious?”
“Dead.”
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the girl stumble hastily down the hallway towards the bathroom.
“Wait- hey- where are you going?”
“To brush teeth,” she said without looking back. “My toothbrush is purple. Like grapes. Daddy said that’s your favorite color but he’s wrong. Your favorite color is black.”
She vanished into the bathroom.
Aou stood in the middle of his living room, the silence ringing like a high-pitched whine. His heartbeat climbed - not in panic, but something more unstable. Boom’s voice through the phone pulled him back to reality.
“I’m coming over.”
Ceri was now humming, curled up under a throw blanket and kicking her socked feet. The TV played a cartoon jingle. The kind that gets stuck in your head for weeks. Aou stared at the photo on the side table again. The longer he looked at it, the less wrong it seemed.
A knock on the door.
He yanked it open. Boom stood there, sweatpants, hoodie half-zipped, a pillow crease on his cheek.
“I swear if this is a joke-”
“Daddy!” Ceri squealed from the couch.
Boom’s head snapped toward the voice. He stopped in his tracks in the middle of the hallway as Aou closed the door behind him.
There was a moment of profound, echoing silence.
The tiny figure tore out of the living room at full speed towards Boom, who backed up a half step like a cartoon character confronted with a ghost, before she crashed into his legs and threw her arms around them. He stumbled slightly, catching himself, and looked down. Her face lit up like a sunrise.
“I missed you,” she said. “You said you were going to bring me snacks last night but you didn’t.”
Boom looked like he’d forgotten how to speak. He slowly reached down and patted the top of her head.
Then Boom said, very quietly, “Why does she look like our mascot? I mean… well, not exactly. You know what I mean.”
Aou sighed. “Because she is our mascot. Apparently. Somehow?”
“She’s warm,” he said, sounding dazed. “She’s real.”
“I know,” Aou muttered. “And apparently… she lives here. The guest room is somehow a kid’s room now. Feel free to take a look. There’s a doll house.”
“You’re joking.”
“I wish I was.” Aou pinched the bridge of his nose. “There’s pictures of us with her. Actual photos. And pictures on my phone. At family parties. With our friends. And her.”
They both stared at her as she let go of Boom and ran back into the living room, calling out for them to join her a moment later.
Boom turned to Aou.
“Dude.”
“I know.”
“This can’t be-”
“I know.”
“Shit.”
Boom sat at the edge of the couch, spine straight, as if the tension in his back was the only thing keeping him upright. Aou paced the living room in slow, aimless circuits, while Ceri sat between them, legs swinging, cartoon playing, cheerfully oblivious.
“I need you to tell me again,” Boom said slowly, “what happened this morning. Word for word.”
“I already told you.”
“Then tell me again.”
Aou sighed. “She knocked. I opened the door. She called me Papa and walked inside. That’s it.”
Boom rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re sure she didn’t just… get lost? Wander over from next door? Kidnapped from a nearby mall and brainwashed by a Ceri-themed cult?”
“She knew the layout of my apartment.”
“...Okay.”
“She knew where her toothbrush was.”
Boom opened his mouth. Closed it again. “...Okay.”
“She had a drawing of us. Said we had noodles yesterday. I didn’t have noodles yesterday. Did you?”
“No.”
“Exactly.”
“So. Worst case scenario: we’ve been cursed. Slightly better case: we’ve gone completely insane at the exact same time.”
“Or,” Aou said, “everyone else is in on it.”
Boom looked at him. “Like a mass psychosis?”
“Like a prank.”
They stared at each other.
The couch had turned into a battlefield while they were talking - covered in a mess of blanket folds, colored pencils carried there from the former guest and current kid’s room, and Ceri, who had somehow managed to trap herself in the blanket and was rolling across the cushions like a burrito.
“We should ask around. Someone we’ve met recently. Or who’s seen us with the mascot recently. What about Junior, Mark, William, Est, those guys? We had events with them lately.”
Boom nodded slowly. “I guess…”
A small voice cut in. “Uncle Junior gave me candy before dinner. Twice.”
They both turned. Ceri was still watching her cartoon, not even glancing at them, but her little voice carried too much certainty.
Boom blinked. “He did?”
She nodded solemnly. “He said don’t tell Papa but I told Papa anyway and he made the face. The-” She scrunched up her nose and crossed her arms in a perfect imitation of Aou, who was too stunned to argue.
Boom looked at Aou, wide-eyed. “Okay. That’s… specific.”
“Very,” Aou muttered.
Ceri turned to Boom. “Can I have juice? Not the green one. The pink one. The one with the rabbit.”
“Yeah,” Boom said on autopilot, already standing.
“Glass with the stars, please.”
Boom stopped. “Stars?”
“Papa always gives me the other one. It’s boring.” She wrinkled her nose. “The stars one is more lucky.”
Boom moved toward the kitchen slowly, as if any sudden movement might cause the fabric of reality to break even more. He returned a moment later, holding a plastic cup with silver stars. He handed the juice over to Ceri, who said thank you without looking and sipped it happily.
Aou picked up his phone.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m calling Est.”
“Are you gonna call Uncle Est?” Ceri piped up, voice muffled by fabric. “He said he’s gonna take me swimming soon! He promised!”
“Est?” Boom asked. “As in Est from GMM? You know him?”
“Uh-huh. Of course, silly! He said he can swim like a dolphin but I don’t believe him.”
Aou didn’t say anything. He just unlocked his phone and pulled up Est’s contact.
He hit call. Boom mouthed, Speaker. Aou tapped it.
The line clicked after three rings.
“Hey P’Aou, what’s up?” Est sounded like he was brushing his teeth.
“Hey,” Aou said carefully. “Sorry if I woke you. I just had a really weird question-”
“Is this about Ceri?” Est cut in.
Aou’s heart stuttered.
“…Yeah,” he managed.
“She okay?” Est asked. “She wasn’t feeling great last week, right? You guys took her to the clinic, yeah?”
Aou’s mouth opened. No sound came out.
“She’s good,” Boom said quickly, stepping in. “She’s… very energetic this morning.”
“Pfft, that kid’s always energetic,” Est said fondly. “Tell her Uncle Est still owes her ice cream, yeah? The one with the sprinkles.”
Boom and Aou stared at each other.
“Yeah,” Boom said faintly. “We’ll tell her.”
They hung up.
Aou stared at the phone like it had personally betrayed him. Boom ran both hands through his hair and pulled them down over his face.
“Okay,” Aou said slowly, voice too calm. “Okay.”
Aou sighed. “So either we’ve lost our memories, or the universe is doing… something.”
“Something?” Boom snapped. “You call this something? We have a child. In our apartment. And apparently everyone just-”
Something twisted in Aou’s chest at the words “our apartment”, something he had been trying to shove down and bury and push away as hard as he could for a very long time, and it was choosing to resurface at the worst possible moment.
“My crayon broke!” Ceri announced dramatically, flopping sideways across the coffee table like a tragic Victorian child.
Boom's expression changed and he got up instantly. “Which one?”
“The blue one,” she said, holding up a stub of crayon like evidence in a trial. “But not sky blue. The other blue.”
Boom crouched next to her. “I’m sure there’s another one in the case. Want me to find it?”
She nodded solemnly. “Yes please.”
Aou watched them - his panic suspended for just a second. Boom, sleepy and messy, talking in a soft voice while gently sifting through crayon boxes. Ceri, calm now, leaning into his side like it was normal. The warmth in his chest growing.
He looked down at his phone again. Without thinking, he tapped open a group chat with a few other actors they worked with - Pond, Phuwin, Dunk and Joong.
He typed:
Does anyone remember our mascot turning into a real kid overnight, or am I actually having a stroke?
Sent.
Three dots appeared.
[Phuwin]:
Lol what
[Dunk]:
U ok bro?
[Pond]:
What are you talking about? What mascot?
Wait are you drunk?
[Joong]:
Tell Ceri I said hi! She’s so cute I miss her. When are you bringing her by again?
Aou dropped the phone on the coffee table like it was hot.
“Nope,” he muttered. “Nope. Nope nope nope.”
Boom glanced at him. “What?”
“They all remember her. As a kid. As our kid.” He waved at the phone like it could explain itself. “Joong literally asked when we’re bringing her to see them again. He said hi to her.”
“Daddy?” Ceri asked.
Boom straightened. “Yeah?”
“Can I have cereal?”
“Sure,” he said automatically. Then blinked. “Wait. What kind?”
“The one with the bee,” she said, bouncing a little. “But not too much milk or it gets soggy and then it’s yuck.”
Boom looked at Aou. Aou looked back. The silence dragged a beat too long.
“…Okay,” Boom said finally. “We’ll figure this out. One thing at a time.”
“Right,” Aou said faintly. “Step one: Feed the… child.”
Ceri beamed.
Boom stood in the kitchen, pouring cereal with the precise caution of someone handling live explosives. Aou leaned against the counter, scrolling through his camera roll like a man trying to find a glitch in the matrix.
There were dozens of photos. Maybe more.
Ceri at a night market with cotton candy. Ceri asleep on Boom’s shoulder. Ceri in the studio, sitting on Aou’s lap. None of them looked fake. No traces of editing. The lighting matched. The expressions were natural.
There was even a live photo. He pressed down on it. Boom leaned into frame and kissed the top of Ceri’s head as she tried to blow out candles.
“Is this a nervous breakdown?” Aou asked out loud.
Boom handed him the bowl of cereal. “Only if we’re having a joint one.”
Ceri was humming when they brought her the bowl. She kicked her feet, happily spooning soggy bee-shaped puffs into her mouth like nothing was remotely wrong.
After a while, Boom sat on the fluffy rug near the coffee table. Aou followed.
They sat there for a while in silence, knees half-tucked under them, the cartoon playing in the background. Ceri finished her cereal, then wandered off to find her rabbit plushie.
Boom rested his chin on his hand. “Do you still think this is a prank?”
“I think if it is, it’s the most elaborate prank in the history of time,” Aou muttered. “There are props. And photos. And people who think we’ve been parents for yeears.”
“I saw the fridge,” Boom said. “There’s a chore chart. With stickers. It says ‘Ceri’s Good Job Board.’ You gave her three stars for finishing her rice.”
“I’ve never given anyone three stars for eating rice in my life.”
Boom smiled faintly. “Apparently you have now.”
Aou rubbed his face. “So what do we do?”
Boom looked over at him. His expression was softer than it should have been. Thoughtful. Calm in a way that made Aou nervous.
“I think… we take care of her. Just for now. Until we figure out a solution.”
Aou stared at him. “We?”
Boom shrugged. “She clearly thinks we’re both her parents.”
“Yeah, and everyone else does too.”
“So… we act like it. For now.”
Aou opened his mouth to argue. Then stopped.
Ceri returned a second later and plopped herself between them, dragging her rabbit by the ear. She leaned her head against Aou’s shoulder. Her fingers reached out blindly and found Boom’s.
They sat like that - the three of them - with the cartoons playing on, as if this had always been their life.
A little later, Ceri had declared the coffee table a volcano, the throw blanket a lava wave, and the floor a pool of baby crocodiles - which meant Boom spent the better part of the rest of the morning subtly angling cushions under sharp corners and keeping her from launching off furniture like a gymnast with a death wish.
“Don’t jump from there,” he warned gently, watching her climb the couch arm with the precise confidence of someone who had definitely never fallen off it before.
“I’m not jumping,” she said, crouched like a tiny jungle cat. “I’m escaping the lava. It’s different.”
Boom stayed close anyway, arms casually ready in case she slipped.
Across the room, Aou sat crosslegged on the rug, flipping through a picture book upside down. “You know,” he said seriously, “when I was your age, I fell into a lava pool.”
Ceri gasped, horrified. “You did not!”
“I did. Burned all the hair off my toes. That’s why I wear socks. To hide the truth.”
Boom shot him a look over Ceri’s head. “Don’t traumatize her.”
“I’m building narrative tension,” Aou said, deadpan.
“You’re building her trust issues.”
Ceri turned to Boom with scandalized eyes. “Did you know he had burned up toes?”
Boom squatted beside her, solemn. “I didn’t. I guess I never really knew him at all.”
She nodded. “He’s very suspicious.”
Aou cracked a smile and leaned forward to add, “They called me The Toasted Toe Kid in kindergarten.”
Boom laughed quietly, his hand still resting behind Ceri in case she slipped. His gaze lingered on Aou - slouched on the floor, hair messy, wearing one of those faded black t-shirts that clung a little at the shoulders and showed just a sliver of collarbone when he moved just right.
He looked soft. And sharp. And dangerously like home.
Boom caught himself staring a second too long. Aou noticed. Their eyes met.
Aou’s brows lifted, slightly surprised. A faint pink crept up his neck. He looked down, pretending to be interested in the picture book again.
Boom watched Ceri storm around again for a little bit longer. And he was pretending not to hover. He didn’t stop her, not unless it was dangerous, but his hand would twitch toward her instinctively, a silent spotter just in case gravity decided to test her limits.
“Relax,” Aou said from the floor, now sprawled on the rug like he’d lost a fight with a daycare center. “She’s built like a tank.”
“She’s still five,” Boom said, not looking away. “That’s peak chaos age.”
“Peak adorable age,” Aou corrected. Ceri turned to beam at him, holding up the rabbit like a trophy.
“Papa, watch!” she said. Then launched herself onto a floor cushion with the kind of confidence only the young or unbreakable possessed.
Boom flinched.
Aou didn’t.
Instead, he shifted into a ridiculous dramatic narrator voice. “And then the brave space explorer Ceri descended onto the plush moon surface, narrowly escaping certain doom, armed only with her magic rabbit, her big heart, and the power of cereal.”
Ceri giggled and rolled onto her back, kicking her feet.
Boom glanced over. “That’s what you’re going with? Magic rabbit and cereal?”
Aou sat up, face completely serious. “That rabbit controls gravitational time folds.”
“Oh. Obviously.”
“And cereal,” Aou added, “is the most powerful food in the galaxy. Everyone knows that.”
Ceri nodded wisely. “Even aliens.”
Boom shook his head but the corners of his mouth lifted. Then he stopped - just for a second - because Aou looked up at him mid-rant, mid-laugh, and there was something too soft in Boom’s face. Something dangerously close to fond.
Their eyes met again.
Aou flushed, coughed, and redirected all of his energy into dramatically falling backwards like he’d been struck by the power of the rabbit.
Ceri laughed again, delighted.
Boom cleared his throat. “You still need to be careful. You’re gonna hurt yourself-”
“I’m not!” Ceri replied, in that breezy tone that only a child with zero self-preservation could manage. “I’m the queen of jumping!”
“Even queens have bones,” Boom muttered under his breath.
Aou was sitting up again, crouched on the floor, waving a paper towel roll he had grabbed from the kitchen earlier like a magic staff.
“Careful, Your Royal Highness,” he said dramatically, “there are enemy jellyfish in the lava. Highly trained. Extremely wiggly. Their only weakness is banana peels.”
Ceri screamed with laughter.
Boom pressed a hand to his forehead.
Aou glanced up at him, still brandishing the roll. “You wanna be the banana ambassador or the jellyfish king?”
Boom gave him a look. “You know she’s going to believe this story and repeat it to strangers, right?”
“That’s the goal,” Aou said, deadpan.
Boom was about to reply - something teasing, something to keep the moment light - but then Aou laughed, real and open and unguarded, as Ceri shouted something about lava crowns and buried him under two pillows and a blanket.
And Boom watched him again - Aou, blinking up from under the pillow fort, grinning like he hadn’t had time to think about it - and something in Boom’s chest squeezed, slow and aching.
It was stupid, but it was also not. The kind of not-stupid he had spent a year pretending didn’t exist.
He tried to bury it under as many cushions as he could find, metaphorically speaking.
“We should get groceries,” Boom said, voice a little too casual.
Aou sat up again. “Right. Cereal’s already half gone. And if she’s gonna keep asking for pink juice-”
“We’ll need supplies,” Boom agreed.
They both looked at Ceri, who was now giving her rabbit CPR with extreme focus.
Aou stood, brushing off lint. “Also, you might want to grab some stuff from your place.”
Boom raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
Aou hesitated. “I mean… if you’re staying here. Just while this is going on.”
“Oh.” Boom glanced at Ceri, then back at Aou. “Yeah. I mean. Probably best, right? Until we… figure it out.”
Aou nodded. “Right. For now.”
“For now,” Boom echoed.
There was another one of those loaded silences - the kind that tasted like almost.
Then Ceri stood up. “Do I get to pick my outfit?”
“Yes,” Aou said.
Once she was dressed, Ceri offered up another challenge.
“Wait!” Ceri looked at both of them seriously. “Who’s doing my hair?”
They froze.
Aou raised a brow. “What do you mean?”
She pointed at Boom. “Daddy makes it straight.” Then at Aou. “Papa makes it zigzag. I want zigzag today.”
“Zigzag?” Boom asked, alarmed.
“Like-” She gestured wildly. “You know. The one with the three rubber bands. And the clips. With the stars.”
She took off running and returned a moment later with hair ties and clips.
Boom looked at Aou. “Your department.”
Aou looked confused but shrugged. “Fine. But if you cry because it pulls, I’m handing you back.”
“No you won’t,” she said sweetly, climbing into his lap and handing him the clips. “You love me.”
Aou muttered something under his breath and began parting her hair with surprising care. Boom watched them, arms crossed.
“You’re good at that.”
“I have cousins.”
“Right.”
Boom bit back a smile as he watched them - Ceri sitting still with regal patience while babbling nonsense at her rabbit plushie, Aou concentrating like he was defusing a bomb. It felt absurdly normal. Like this was just… their morning. Their kid. Their life.
It was terrifying how natural it all felt.
“Okay,” Aou said, finishing the last clip. “Ready for the outside world?”
Ceri bounced to her feet. “Do I look cute?”
“Dangerously,” Boom said.
She trotted up between them, holding their hands.
“I want the honey cereal with the bee,” she said.
“We’ll see,” Boom replied.
“That means no,” she whispered to Aou.
Aou leaned down and whispered back, “I’ll distract him in the freezer aisle.”
She nodded seriously.
Boom was already opening the door when he looked back at the two of them conspiring, and he didn’t say anything - just smiled quietly, a little too long, before stepping out into the hallway.
The supermarket was busier than expected. Somewhere near the entrance, Ceri tightened her grip on both their hands like they might float away without her.
“Don’t let go,” she warned.
“We won’t,” Boom said, adjusting his hoodie with his free hand.
“Ever,” she added dramatically.
Aou looked down at her. “Even if you need to sneeze?”
“Then I sneeze holding your hands.”
“That’s unsanitary.”
She huffed.
They walked like that down the snack aisle - one five-year-old in the middle, flanked by two very aware, very confused men. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like a warning.
Ceri made a beeline toward the first candy shelf she saw, dragging both men with surprising force.
“Wait, wait-” Boom said, stumbling slightly. “We’re starting with sugar?”
“Snack before dinner,” she declared.
“That’s not-”
“Compromise snack!” she said brightly, reaching for a pack of chocolate-dipped biscuit sticks. “Not a candy. It’s a snack.”
“She’s arguing on technicalities,” Aou said, impressed.
“She’s arguing like you,” Boom muttered, and tried to redirect them toward the fresh produce. “Let’s balance it out.”
Ceri groaned like she’d just been sentenced to life in prison. Eventually, Boom bribed Ceri with the promise of the correct brand of strawberry yogurt if she agreed to sit in the cart’s fold-down seat instead. She caved instantly.
Aou returned from a different aisle and dropped a familiar bottle of chili sauce into the cart without a word.
Boom raised an eyebrow. “You hate that one.”
Aou shrugged. “You don’t.”
Boom blinked. Then wordlessly added Aou’s favorite weird brand of coconut water - the one with the tiny jelly bits - into the cart next.
Ceri noticed. “That one makes the funny sound when Papa drinks it.”
Aou blinked. “What funny sound?”
Ceri demonstrated: a long, exaggerated slurp followed by a satisfied ahhh. “You do it every time.”
Boom smiled. Aou covered his face.
A woman with a toddler on her hip had paused near their cart. She smiled at Ceri, then at Aou and Boom.
“She’s adorable,” the woman said warmly. “You two must be so proud.”
There was a full beat of silence.
Boom smiled. “Thank you.”
Aou choked. “Oh - no - we’re not - I mean, yes, she’s ours, but not like - we’re just - he’s not - I mean-”
Boom elbowed him gently. “We are proud,” he said, still smiling at the woman. “Very proud.”
The woman gave them a fond look and wandered off.
Aou turned red.
Boom looked smug.
“Don’t start,” Aou warned, grabbing a pack of frozen dumplings.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You said it with your face.”
Boom added a bottle of that sparkling peach drink Aou always got on set but never admitted to liking. Aou, meanwhile, picked up the same brand of seaweed Boom had been lowkey addicted to since 2020. They were both pretending not to notice each other’s quiet little detours.
“Okay,” Aou said, holding up two packs of meat. “Beef or chicken?”
Boom eyed them. “You’re cooking?”
“I was going to ask if you’re cooking.”
“I don’t mind, but last time you said I over-garlicked the-”
“I did not say that.”
“You made a face.”
“I always make faces,” Aou said, deadpan.
Boom nodded. “True.”
Ceri peeked into the cart. “I want eggs. The ones with the smiley faces.”
Boom squinted. “Smiley faces?”
“I think she means the white ones,” Aou said. “With the red stamps.”
Ceri pointed in the direction of where the eggs were. “That one! They’re nicer to the chickens.”
Boom blinked. “We’re raising a morality-based grocery shopper.”
“I’m proud of her,” Aou said. “I’ll go get them and the kitchen rolls. Go get that… rabbit juice.”
Ceri was crouched next to the lower shelf, comparing two different boxes with deep seriousness when a woman sidled up beside them.
Boom noticed her a second too late.
She was maybe in her late twenties, stylish in a casual sort of way, and smiling like she had already decided something.
“She’s adorable,” the woman said, nodding toward Ceri. “Yours?”
Boom straightened. “Oh- uh, yeah. Kind of. It’s- long story.”
The woman smiled wider. “Well, she’s lucky. Most dads would just buy the first juice and call it a day.”
Ceri glanced up. “Daddy checks the sugar,” she informed her.
“Smart dad,” the woman said. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Your wife must be glad to have help.”
Boom hesitated.
Before he could say anything, Aou rounded the corner, arms full of paper towels and a bag of frozen dumplings, and a carton of eggs tucked under his chin. He froze mid-step as he took in the scene - Boom smiling, the woman smiling, Ceri reaching for Boom’s hand.
Something flickered behind Aou’s eyes.
The air changed, just a little.
Boom glanced over. “Found the stuff?”
“Yeah,” Aou said, dropping the dumplings into the cart with more force than necessary. “I’ll get the rice.”
The woman looked between them, sensing something, and smiled again. “Nice to meet you,” she said to Boom.
Then she walked away.
“Daddy!”
“Hm?”
Ceri looked up. “The lady wanted your phone.”
Boom blinked. “What?”
“She kept playing with her hair. That’s what Uncle Phuwin said people do when they like someone.”
Boom turned slightly pink. “Phuwin has got to stop teaching you things.”
Aou returned with rice and did not make eye contact with anyone for the next four minutes.
Checkout was somehow worse.
They placed their items on the belt while Ceri bounced on her heels and added a last-minute packet of cartoon band-aids.
The cashier, a guy maybe in his early twenties, scanned items lazily while chewing gum. Then glanced up at the three of them and did a double take.
“Cute kid,” he said, nodding at Ceri.
“Thank you,” Boom said.
The cashier grinned. “She looks just like you.”
Boom blinked. “Me?”
“Yeah. Same eyes.”
Aou made a weird sound in the back of his throat.
The cashier kept scanning. “You guys married?”
Aou felt panic rising within him. “Ha ha, we’re not - I mean we’re not not - but she’s not - we’re not-”
Boom opened his mouth.
Aou cleared his throat, then reached across him to swipe his card. “We’re good, thank you.”
Boom turned slowly. “You okay?”
“I just- we needed to speed this up.”
Ceri, either oblivious or expertly pretending to be, held both their hands again as they walked back to the car. Her feet swung above the parking lot concrete. Her plush rabbit was tucked under one arm like a witness to everything.
Boom finally broke the silence. “You didn’t have to shut it down like that.”
Aou looked at him. “You wanted me to say yes?”
Boom didn’t answer right away.
“I didn’t want you to look… ashamed,” he said finally.
Aou stopped walking.
“I wasn’t,” he said quietly. “I just… it caught me off guard.”
Boom glanced at him. “It caught me too. But I didn’t hate it.”
Aou looked away.
Ceri squeezed both their hands. “Why are we stopping?”
Boom cleared his throat. “No reason.”
Aou pulled himself together and started walking again. Ceri swung their hands happily. They were almost back to the car when Aou spoke again.
“I didn’t know you were into hair-flipping strangers,” he said lightly.
Boom frowned. “What?”
“The girl. Juice aisle. She was definitely into you.”
“Oh. I wasn’t-” Boom blinked. “I didn’t notice.”
“You smiled at her.”
“I smile at everyone,” Boom said. “It’s called being polite.”
Aou shrugged. “Sure.”
Boom turned. “Wait, are you mad?”
“No,” Aou said too quickly. “Why would I be mad?”
Boom stared at him.
Aou wouldn’t look back.
Ceri tugged on both their hands at once. “I’m hungry, let’s go home. Papa, can I have the crispy noodle thing with the egg that you made last week?”
Aou finally looked down at her. “Yeah. Sure.”
Boom watched him the whole time.
The kitchen smelled like garlic and sesame oil. Aou moved with that half-distracted rhythm he always had when he was concentrating - not really talking, not really aware of anything outside the pan. He stirred noodles in a pan with practiced movements, humming faintly under his breath, the sizzling loud enough to drown out most of his thoughts. Most, but not all.
Boom was setting the table in the background. Ceri was humming while arranging utensils on the placemats with artistic flair - diagonally, apparently, was the correct style tonight.
Aou’s phone, perched dangerously on top of a half-empty box of cling wrap, lit up with an incoming video call.
Aou wiped one hand on a towel and checked the screen.
“It’s my dad,” he said. Then, without thinking, called over his shoulder, “P’Boom - can you take this?”
Boom looked up from the napkins. “You want me to-?”
“I’ve got sauce going.”
Boom raised an eyebrow but picked up the phone and hit accept. The screen filled with the familiar, cheerful face of Aou’s father, slightly too close to the camera, as usual.
“Hey,” Boom said, already smiling.
Aou’s dad squinted, then lit up. “Boom! What’re you doing answering? Where’s that useless son of mine?”
“I’m cooking,” Aou called without turning. “He’s playing butler.”
Ceri’s face popped into the frame a second later, climbing onto the chair next to Boom. “Grandpa!”
Aou froze.
His spatula clattered against the pan.
The warmth in his chest was back again with a vengeance.
“We’re having crispy noodles. Papa’s cooking. He won’t let Daddy do the garlic anymore.”
Aou muttered something unintelligible from the stove and tried to channel the force of all the tangled feelings behind his ribs into what was happening in the pan.
“Oh, is that Ceri?” his dad said, grinning. “There you are, sweetheart! Haven’t seen your little face in a while. Papa and Daddy been keeping you too busy?”
Ceri nodded with extreme seriousness. “They make me do chores. And eat vegetables.”
Boom laughed.
Aou's dad laughed.
Aou stood completely still.
Ceri looked at the screen and added, “But I still love them. I love Papa and I love Daddy. And Papa loves Daddy, and Daddy loves Papa also.”
The words slipped out so lightly - as if she’d just said the sky was blue, or bunnies were soft.
Boom’s fingers tightened slightly around the phone.
Aou turned around slowly, face unreadable.
On screen, Aou’s dad just chuckled. “Well, yeah. That’s how it’s supposed to be, right?”
A beat of frozen silence.
Ceri had already lost interest and was attempting to show the camera her rabbit.
“I gotta-” Aou said, walking over, taking the phone with a too-casual grip. “We’re just finishing dinner. I’ll call you later.”
His dad barely got a goodbye in before the call cut.
Boom didn’t say anything.
Neither did Aou.
They stood there for a full second, maybe two, like characters in a game waiting for the next command, separated by a foot and a half and the heaviest quiet in the world.
Then Boom laughed - too quietly, too late. “Well. That was… something.”
“She talks a lot,” Aou said, voice too light.
“Yup.”
“She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”
“Nope.”
“She probably heard it on TV.”
“Definitely.”
Aou crossed back to the stove. “Kids say weird stuff.”
Boom followed, arms crossed, voice carefully light. “Sure. I mean. She also thinks rabbit juice is a food group.”
“Exactly.”
“Totally random.”
“Completely.”
Aou stirred harder than necessary.
Boom leaned against the counter, watching him. “Your dad didn’t seem surprised.”
“Yeah, well.” Aou shrugged. “He’s old.”
Boom raised an eyebrow. “That’s your explanation?”
“Are we really having this conversation over crispy noodles?” Aou muttered.
Boom smiled. But he didn’t press. He stepped back to the table, adjusted a napkin that didn’t need adjusting, and said nothing.
Aou stirred the noodles with unnecessary force.
Ceri broke the silence by saying, “Are we eating now? My rabbit says yes.”
Aou exhaled. “Coming.”
Dinner was quiet in the way that meant too much had been said already.
The kind of quiet that made Boom extra conscious of the clink of utensils and the sound of the AC. The kind where he noticed how Aou poured juice without asking first, how he passed Ceri the sweet chili sauce before she even reached for it.
The kind where the domestic rhythm they’d fallen into over the past couple hours now felt... heavier. Not bad. Just undeniable.
Ceri was talking - endlessly - about a cartoon where a unicorn became a lawyer or a superhero and cupcakes were evil, but neither man was really following the plot.
Aou kept his eyes on his plate.
Boom was chewing slowly, too slowly.
There was something sticky between them now - not the situation, not the magic, not the mystery.
Something warmer, heavier, impossible to ignore.
Neither of them mentioned the call.
Neither of them looked at each other for too long.
They sat around the small dining table like they’d done it a hundred times. Ceri chattered on about volcano blankets and invisible jellyfish kings. Boom nodded at the right moments. Aou refilled her juice. Boom topped up Aou’s water unprompted. Aou passed him the chili flakes before he even reached for them. Ceri spooned a noodle onto Aou’s plate like she was sharing a sacred offering, then did the same to Boom, then smiled like she’d solved the world.
“This is nice,” she said, mid-bite.
Boom glanced up. “Yeah?”
She nodded. “My tummy feels warm. That means it’s a good dinner.”
Aou finally smiled. “I’ll take that review.”
She beamed and returned to chewing. Boom looked across the table, and Aou looked back. Their knees bumped under the table, just once. Neither moved away.
Evening came like a sigh.
The kind of quiet that didn’t announce itself - just settled over the apartment like it belonged there.
Ceri was in pajamas - yellow, with dancing vegetables printed across them. She claimed she didn’t like vegetables, but “these ones were cute, so it’s different.” Her hair was still half-damp from a quick rinse and slightly crooked from Aou’s earlier zigzag styling attempt.
She sat cross-legged on the couch, balancing a bowl of seaweed puffs in her lap, while Boom scrolled for something “not too scary and not too baby” on the streaming app.
“Not the dancing fruit show,” Boom warned.
Ceri rolled her eyes. “That’s for babies. I’m six now.”
“You’re five.”
“I’m five and a half.”
Boom gave her a skeptical look and kept scrolling. Aou returned from the kitchen, carrying three mismatched cups of warm tea. He handed one to Boom, one to Ceri and settled on the other side of the couch.
Ceri immediately wedged herself between them.
Boom ended up picking a slightly chaotic animated movie about talking trains that were also detectives. It made no sense. Ceri loved it.
Halfway through, she leaned against Aou’s side, rabbit plush tucked under one arm, and absently reached for Boom’s hoodie sleeve like she did it every night. The movie washed over them - wild sound effects, exaggerated voices, absurd jokes. None of it mattered. What mattered was the warmth.
The three of them were huddled closely together, so close that Aou’s shoulder pressed lightly against Boom’s. Aou looked over at Boom, just once. Boom met his eyes. They both looked away. The silence between them wasn’t awkward. It was... stretched. Like something unspoken was slowly unfolding itself between them, filling the room like warm air.
Ceri’s eyes began to droop at some point. Boom reached over and gently tapped the screen off.
“Teeth,” he said.
She groaned in protest, full of theatrics.
“You want the story or not?”
She muttered something about “Daddy being bossy” under her breath and trudged toward the bathroom.
Boom followed.
Aou listened from the couch as the sound of the sink started. Then stopped. Then started again. Then the unmistakable voice of Boom saying, “No, actually brush.”
“I am brushing!”
“Brushing the sink doesn’t count.”
Laughter. Splashing. Muffled chaos. Then, silence.
Aou followed the noise, pausing in the hallway to lean against the wall just outside the bathroom door.
From inside, he heard Boom’s gentle voice.
“You can squeeze the toothpaste but don’t eat it, okay?”
“I didn’t eat it before,” Ceri said indignantly. “I was tasting it.”
“That’s eating.”
“No, it’s... testing.”
Aou smiled.
Ceri took it seriously. She scrubbed with exaggerated motions, tongue out in concentration, humming between swipes.
Boom gently corrected her grip. “Little circles. Not like you’re painting a wall.”
“I’m brushing ghosts off.”
“That’s a lot of ghosts.”
“Chocolate ghosts.”
Boom smiled. “Ten more seconds.”
A few moments later, Boom emerged, rabbit in one hand, toothbrush cup in the other. “Mission accomplished.”
Ceri appeared behind him with foam still clinging to the corner of her mouth and an expression of great accomplishment.
Aou bent down and wiped her mouth gently. “Minty?”
She nodded. “Spicy minty.”
“Good. That means it’s working.”
They tucked her under the covers in what had, until yesterday, been Aou’s guest room and was now unmistakably her room. The night light glowed purple in the corner. Her bunny sat at attention by the pillow.
“Story time?” she asked, eyes bright again despite her yawns.
Aou held up a book. “One story.”
“Two,” she negotiated.
“One,” Boom repeated.
“Fine,” she sighed dramatically. “But do the voices.”
Aou glanced at Boom. “You heard the boss.”
The bedtime book was called The Star Who Didn’t Want to Shine. Boom sat on one side, back against the wall. Aou took the other. The bed was small but the night felt wide enough to hold them all.
“Who’s doing the narrator?” Boom asked.
“You are,” Aou said. “You’re good at the boring bits.”
Ceri giggled.
Boom opened the book. “Fine. But I’m not doing any stupid voices. No creaky old characters. It hurts my throat.”
“You have to do the old owl,” Ceri insisted.
Aou leaned in. “She’ll riot if you don’t.”
Boom sighed like a martyr. “Once upon a time,” he began, in a tone of deep and unnecessary gravitas, “there was a star who didn’t want to shine.”
Ceri clapped her hands.
Aou took the voice of the star - high-pitched, full of existential dread and sass. Boom did the owl, reluctantly. Ceri laughed so hard she hiccuped.
The story was simple: the star thought shining was overrated and wanted to sleep all the time. The owl gave dramatic advice. The moon was melodramatic. Eventually, the star changed its mind after making two new friends who were also sleepy but loved each other anyway.
They read together like they had done it a thousand times - slipping into voices and rhythms without discussion. Boom made the owl sound too serious. Aou gave a bird a lisp on accident and then stuck with it, to Ceri’s delight. At one point, Boom made a sheep noise so accurate that Ceri laughed herself sideways.
They didn’t rush the pages.
They didn’t skip the hard words.
They read like they had time.
And when the story wound down and the illustrated animals curled up in their tiny illustrated homes, Ceri curled up too, between them.
“I like this one,” she mumbled.
“Yeah?” Boom whispered.
“It’s silly. But nice.”
Aou ran his fingers through her hair, gentle. “You sleepy?”
She nodded against the pillow.
They watched her drift - small breaths, steady and warm. Her rabbit slipped from her arms. Boom picked it up and tucked it beside her.
She didn’t move.
Boom closed the book quietly. Aou adjusted the edge of her blanket, brushing a strand of hair off her forehead. She didn’t speak - just let out a tiny sigh and reached blindly with one hand. Her fingers found Aou’s arm, then Boom’s, and settled gently between them. They sat like that for a moment - still, silent, holding their breath without realizing it. The storybook sat unopened on Boom’s lap. The lamp on the bedside table buzzed faintly.
Aou finally whispered, “She’s out.”
They stood carefully, moving with that unspoken coordination they’d settled into so quickly - like people who’d done this before, even if they hadn’t.
Aou clicked the lamp off. Boom cracked the door just slightly, letting the hallway light in. Then they stepped out into the quiet. The hallway was warm and dim, the floor creaking gently under their steps. Neither of them said anything until they reached the living room again.
Aou sat first. Boom followed.
No cartoons this time. No noise at all. Just the sound of the city somewhere far below them, and the occasional creak of pipes behind the wall. The apartment felt… bigger and simultaneously smaller. Not crowded. Not noisy. Just lived in.
Boom glanced at Aou. “You’re good with her.”
Aou looked over, surprised. “You think?”
“She listens to you.”
“She listens to the rabbit.”
“Still counts.”
Aou exhaled, heart feeling too full. “You’re good with her too.”
The apartment had gone still now, that deep sort of quiet that only settles in cities after midnight - when even the traffic outside sounds distant, like the world’s volume knob had been turned down.
Aou pulled the bedroom door closed behind them. It clicked softly into place. The room was dark, just a faint sliver of streetlight bleeding in through the curtain edges. Enough to see shapes. Enough not to speak.
They moved wordlessly.
Boom peeled off his hoodie and tossed it over the chair in the corner. Aou bent to fold back the edge of the blanket, slow, tired. His hair was sticking up a little at the back. Boom didn’t mention it.
They got into bed on opposite sides, mirror movements - pulling the blankets up, shifting until their shoulders settled, sighing like they'd both been holding tension all day and didn’t realize it until now.
It should’ve been quiet. It was.
But not silent.
Boom shifted under the blanket, rolling to face the other way - then back again. He exhaled softly. Not restless, just present. Awake in the dark for no reason except maybe the same one keeping Aou still and silent.
After a while, Boom’s voice broke the quiet - soft enough that it felt like it might float straight into the air and vanish.
“Was today… nice for you?”
Aou blinked. The question sat gently between them. A pause.
“Yeah. It was.” His voice was low, like anything louder might change the shape of it. He turned his head toward Boom in the dark. “Very nice.”
Boom’s eyes were open too, barely visible. Just the gleam of light caught in them.
“It’s weird,” he said after a moment, “how fast this started to feel real.”
Aou exhaled. “Yeah.”
“I keep waiting to wake up. Or for someone to come knocking and say, ‘Okay, experiment’s over, give her back.’” Boom smiled faintly, then sobered. “But then she asks me for help brushing her teeth or reaches for my hand without thinking and it’s like-”
“-like maybe you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be,” Aou finished softly.
Boom turned to look at him.
Their eyes held, neither quite willing to look away.
“You’re tired,” Aou said, almost a whisper. “It’s been a long day.”
“You’re not?”
“I’m trying not to be. I... kinda don’t want this to end.”
Boom smiled at that - soft, small. “Me either.”
A long silence settled between them before Boom spoke again.
“Do you think,” Boom asked, slower this time, “you’d be good at being a parent?”
Aou hesitated, not because he didn’t know the answer - but because it felt like the kind of thing that mattered, once it was said out loud. He rolled onto his side slowly, facing Boom across the short, charged space between them.
“Only if it was with you,” he said honestly.
Boom didn’t move. But the air between them did. Tightened, maybe. Softened. The quiet after that felt heavier than before. Like a held breath. Like the moment before rain.
He looked at Aou, and Aou looked back - nothing performative in it, nothing dramatic. Just two people lying close, saying things they’d never said before in a voice that didn’t need to rise above a whisper to be heard.
Boom turned slightly onto his side, toward Aou. His voice was almost a whisper now. “What do you mean?”
Aou looked back at him. “You know what I mean.”
Another silence - longer, thicker, but neither of them looked away. There was a kind of gravity to the moment. Aou’s hand shifted, barely, under the blanket. Boom’s followed. Their fingers didn’t quite meet, but the space between them was deliberate now. Measured in breaths.
“You’d be good. I think you would.”
Aou smiled, faint and crooked. “Only if she lets me sleep past seven.”
“She won’t.”
“No. She won’t.”
They both laughed softly, not really wanting to - more just because it felt too heavy otherwise. The sound dissolved quickly into the dark.
Boom’s hand moved again - another inch. Aou’s fingers twitched.
They weren’t touching.
Not yet.
Boom’s eyes were still on him. Soft. Open.
Aou shifted slightly, closing the distance by a breath, by a heartbeat.
Their faces were close now - not close enough to touch, but close enough to know exactly what would happen if one of them leaned in.
And for a long second, it felt like maybe they would.
Boom’s gaze dropped briefly to Aou’s mouth. Aou saw it.
Felt it.
Boom whispered, “Can I-”
But whatever he was going to ask vanished.
Tiny footsteps padded down the hall. Fast. Soft.
“Papa?” Ceri’s small voice broke the moment like a stone in still water.
They both jerked back, a little too fast, like teenagers caught doing something they shouldn’t.
The door creaked open an inch. Then more. Then Ceri padded into the room in her little vegetable-print pajamas, eyes huge in the dark, clutching her rabbit and looking impossibly small in the shadows.
Aou sat up a little. “Ceri? What’s wrong?”
She rubbed one eye with the back of her hand. “I can’t sleep. It’s too quiet.”
Boom was already pulling the blanket back. “C’mere.”
She climbed up without hesitation and plopped herself down between them, rabbit tucked under one arm like a tiny authority figure. She didn’t lie flat right away. She squirmed a bit, adjusted the blanket like a nest, then turned to Boom, reaching for his hand. He gave it easily.
Then she turned to Aou and reached the other way. “Papa.”
Aou took her hand, warm and small and insistent.
And then - as if this were simply how the universe was meant to arrange itself - she pulled both of their hands inward until they were touching.
Just a little.
Just enough.
Their pinkies bumped. Then curled.
She made a satisfied noise, like a small sigh, and finally lay down, rabbit tucked to her chest, fingers still holding theirs.
Aou didn’t move. Neither did Boom.
Their hands stayed pressed lightly together, Ceri’s between them. Her breathing slowed.
Within a minute, she was asleep.
They didn’t speak. Not for a long time.
Boom stared at the ceiling, his hand still caught in Aou’s.
Aou stared at her face, soft in sleep, and then at Boom’s profile - the rise and fall of his chest, the stillness in him now.
Somehow, the moment they almost had wasn’t gone.
It had just… folded itself quietly between them. Like a bookmark slipped between pages.
They could return to it. Later.
But not now.
Now, there was this - a little hand, two big ones, three steady breaths.
Aou closed his eyes.
This wasn’t what he’d expected from his day. Not even close.
But this - this quiet, ridiculous, fragile warmth?
He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt anything more real.
And when Boom shifted slightly in his sleep and their fingers brushed again Aou didn’t move away.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
The apartment felt too quiet.
Not the soft, comforting quiet of the night before - not the blanket-wrapped kind that had folded around them like a secret. This was the kind of quiet that scraped around the edges. Empty.
Aou blinked awake slowly, warmth pressing against his back.
He was still under the covers. The bed was still soft. The light was golden and diffused through the curtains, and the air was filled with that gentle stillness that only existed early in the morning, before the world picked up its pace.
But there was something different.
Boom’s arm was around him. One of Boom’s legs had hooked loosely over his, the kind of sleep-tangled sprawl that could only happen when two people trusted each other enough not to pull away. Aou felt Boom’s breath against the nape of his neck - slow, even, still asleep.
The space between them had disappeared completely overnight.
But so had something else.
He frowned.
Something itched at the back of his mind. A shift. A wrong note in the harmony.
Then he remembered.
Ceri.
She’d fallen asleep between them.
Clutching their hands. Tucked between their bodies like a tiny gravity field.
And now - she wasn’t here.
Aou sat up carefully, untangling himself from Boom without waking him.
The bed had a warm hollow where her small body should’ve been - but no blanket, no rabbit plush, no glitter hair clips or tiny pajama limbs sprawled across the mattress. It was just... a bed.
He swung his legs over the side.
“Mm... Aou?” Boom blinked blearily. “Time is it?”
“Ceri’s not here.”
Boom sat up too, immediately more alert. “What?”
“She’s not here.”
Boom looked at the space between them. Then around the room. Then at Aou, brows furrowing. “Maybe she went to the bathroom?”
They both turned to the door. It was open just a sliver - like it had been pushed that way by a small hand on the way out.
Aou got up first, heart pounding now - not quite panic, but an unease that felt worse. Boom followed, rubbing his eyes as they padded out into the hallway.
“Ceri?” Aou called softly. No answer.
They checked the living room first. Empty. No toys, no rabbit, no cereal bowls left half-full on the table.
The kitchen was spotless.
Aou felt his chest tighten.
Boom checked the bathroom. Nothing.
“P’Boom,” Aou called out. “Come here.”
Boom padded out into the hallway again a second later, still half-asleep, hair sticking up wildly. “What?”
Aou reached out and opened the door slowly.
The room was empty. No night light. No tiny slippers by the wall. No rainbow duvet or crayon-scribbled drawings taped to the dresser. The floor was too clean. The bookshelf was back to having three unread novels and a scented candle he hated. Just his guest room again. Neatly made. Spare. Quiet.
Like she’d never been there at all.
It didn’t make sense.
Boom didn’t say anything.
Aou moved past him, heart thudding now. He walked down the hallway leading to the living room - all the pictures, gone.
Boom opened his phone and flipped to his gallery. Scrolled. Fast. Frantic.
“Nothing,” he said.
Aou checked his own. Same.
No photos. No clips. Not even the video of her laughing at the cartoon sheep noise.
Gone.
Boom’s voice was tight. “What the hell is going on?”
Aou didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to.
They both just stood there in the middle of the living room, surrounded by a quiet that felt unbearable now.
Not peaceful. Not domestic.
Just hollow.
No child in sight.
Not even a smudge.
The couch was back to its usual state - no seaweed puffs, no coloring pencils, no mysterious toddler-acquired glitter clinging to the fabric.
“Did we imagine her?” Boom asked, voice low.
Aou looked at him.
“No,” he said. “We didn’t.”
Boom didn’t look convinced. “The pictures. The room. Even her toothbrush-”
“I don’t care.”
Boom finally met his eyes.
“She was real,” Aou said. “I know she was.”
The silence stretched.
Boom sat heavily on the edge of the couch. “This can’t be happening.”
“She was real,” Aou repeated.
Boom nodded slowly. “I remember everything.”
Aou finally sat down beside him. He looked stunned. Hollow.
For a long time, neither of them said anything. The apartment - bright, modern, too clean - felt like a hollowed-out memory. It was still his. But something about it felt lonelier than it had yesterday.
And then Boom reached for Aou’s hand. Quietly. Without warning.
His fingers curled around Aou’s.
Aou turned to look at him - eyes still heavy with disbelief.
“She was real,” Boom echoed, voice firmer now. “I know she was. And you know it too.”
Aou didn’t speak.
He just leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Boom, melted into him, as if to ground himself.
It wasn’t a dramatic moment. It was soft and quiet and comforting.
“I miss her,” Aou whispered against Boom’s shoulder.
Boom’s voice cracked. “Me too.”
They sat there like that for a long time - leaning into each other, breathing slow. Then Aou pulled back a little to face him.
Boom looked at him.
And this time, there was no almost.
This time, Aou leaned in and kissed him.
Boom kissed him back, hand lifting to Aou’s face, fingers sliding gently along his jaw. Aou’s hands found Boom’s waist, steady and sure.
When they parted, neither spoke for a moment.
Boom brushed a thumb across Aou’s cheek gently.
Aou smiled, just faintly. “Took us long enough.”
Boom huffed softly. “We’re slow learners.”
They were grateful for the day off - neither of them would have felt particularly happy about having to do anything work related in their current situation. So after brushing their teeth and trying to wake up fully, they padded to the kitchen.
They made breakfast together as if they had been doing it for years. Quiet, sleepy domesticity. One reached for the plates while the other started the kettle. It wasn’t griefless. The silence between them still held weight - like something sacred had passed through them and left a mark. But it wasn’t unbearable.
They were still here. Together.
Later, when they sat down to eat, Boom reached across the table and took Aou’s hand again.
No words this time, just a warm presence.
He stole a bite of toast from Aou’s plate. Aou flicked water at him in revenge.
Boom kissed the corner of Aou’s mouth in apology.
It was all surprisingly easy.
Afterward, they cleaned up the kitchen. Boom washed, Aou dried. They argued lightly over the merits of folding tea towels versus just “wadding them into the drawer like a normal person.” Boom retaliated by smacking Aou with a damp dishcloth.
Aou kissed him again.
Just because he could.
And it still didn’t feel like enough.
Later that afternoon, Boom had fallen asleep on the couch - curled on his side, blanket halfway over him, one hand tucked under his cheek.
Aou stood for a moment and watched him sleep. The softest part of the day, somehow. Like the world had stopped moving forward and decided to give them space to breathe.
He turned to clean up a little. Picked up a cushion from under the coffee table.
Something was sticking out from underneath the couch.
Just the corner of a sheet of paper.
He crouched, reached for it.
It was a drawing. A childish one. The kind only five-year-old hands could make. Bold, scribbled lines. Wobbly stick figures.
Crayon on construction paper. A little wrinkled.
Three figures, hand-in-hand. Two tall ones, and one blob with triangles around the head.
Aou’s heartbeat picked up and for a moment he just stood there looking at the drawing with hands that were shaking a little. Then he smiled - a quiet, aching kind of smile - and set the drawing gently on the coffee table, where Boom would see it when he woke up.
And somehow, that made it okay. Not fixed. Not normal.
But okay.
The quiet felt different now.
Like something had been left behind on purpose.
Not to be mourned.
But remembered.
And maybe, someday, returned.