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They’re going to be late.
“Jaeyoon-ah!” Chan shouts. He’s been rushing around their tiny kitchen all morning, trying to juggle packing Jaeyoon’s lunch and making their breakfast and also answering the work emails that have already started piling up in his inbox. Jaeyoon was supposed to be up fifteen minutes ago, but Chan didn’t even notice until he turned the radio down and realized he couldn’t hear the shower running.
Chan might actually kill him. Luckily, he doesn’t have to.
Their front door suddenly beeps as Minho lets himself in. “Morning,” he says. His eyes sweep around the apartment before they settle back on Chan. “Where is he?”
“He must’ve overslept,” Chan says as he struggles to cut even strips of danmuji for Jaeyoon’s lunch. “I was just about to go wake him up. God, his uniform probably isn’t even clean either, I don’t know why I—”
“I got it,” Minho interrupts. He heads down the hallway and opens the door to Jaeyoon’s bedroom. As soon as he does, Chan hears the shrill ringing of the industrial alarm clock they bought for situations like these. He should’ve known it wouldn’t work the one time he needs it to. Jaeyoon is fifteen years old and sleeps like the dead.
“Yah,” Minho says loudly, flicking Jaeyoon’s light switch on and off. “It’s time to get up. I’m leaving in ten minutes, with or without you.”
To Chan’s amazement, he hears a groan, and seconds later the alarm stops. He can’t make out Jaeyoon’s mumbled response, but it must’ve been annoying enough for Minho to reply, “You’re the one who overslept, dude. Now let’s go.”
He returns to the kitchen and Chan can only gape at him. “I can’t believe that worked,” he says. “Usually I have to shake him awake.”
His best friend merely shrugs. “He knows I don’t mess around, that’s why.” Before Chan can protest, Minho takes the knife from his hands and nudges him away from the food he’s preparing (or rather, trying to prepare). “Finish your breakfast, hyung. I’ll do this.”
Chan relents, mostly because Minho is a far better chef than he is. Jaeyoon would probably prefer to have his lunch made by him anyway.
He pours Minho a cup of coffee and hastily eats his half-finished breakfast. By the time he’s done, Jaeyoon has emerged from his bedroom. His hair is a mess and he still looks half-asleep, but at least his uniform is on (and clean).
“Morning, sunshine,” Chan says dryly. Jaeyoon scowls, looking every bit the sullen teenager he occasionally is. “Eat your food and wash up so you won’t be late. And say thank you to Minho-hyung for making your lunch.”
Jaeyoon mutters thank you, hyung as he accepts the bowl of soup Chan hands him. He wolfs down his food in seconds, barely taking a breath in between bites, before going to the bathroom to finish getting ready.
“Jeez,” Minho says as Chan clears the table. “He’s like a vacuum.”
“Tell me about it. I’m not even sure he fully tastes everything before he swallows it.”
“Reminds me of someone else I know,” Minho says with a grin. Chan scoffs but doesn’t deny it. His appetite is definitely one of the many traits Jaeyoon inherited from him.
Jaeyoon wanders back in, his backpack slung over his shoulder. “Don’t forget your lunch,” Chan instructs as he hunts around for his briefcase. “And your keys. And your bus pass.”
“I know,” Jaeyoon says with a roll of his eyes, conveniently forgetting all the times he’s had to come by Chan’s office because he got locked out of their apartment.
“You ready?” Minho asks. Since Jaeyoon’s school is in the same area where Minho works, he gives him a ride in the mornings and Jaeyoon takes the bus home in the evenings.
“Yeah. See you later, Dad.”
“Hold on!” Before they can leave, Chan grabs his son and presses a hasty kiss to the top of his head. “Have a good day. Make sure you work hard, alright?”
“Okay, okay,” Jaeyoon says, annoyed, but he doesn’t wipe the kiss off like Chan was afraid he would. “Hyung, can we go?”
“Yes, we can go,” Minho says, but not before he procures Chan’s briefcase seemingly out of thin air. “Need this?”
Chan doesn’t even bother asking where he found it. Even for someone as organized as he is, it’s easy for things to get cluttered and lost in their tiny apartment. Somehow, though, Minho always manages to know he’s looking for. “Thanks,” he says, taking it gratefully. “See you for dinner later?”
“See you then,” Minho says as Jaeyoon practically drags him out. The door shuts behind them, and the apartment is finally quiet.
Chan looks around, exhaling. He can steal a few minutes of peace before he has to leave for work. Minho cleaned up after packing Jaeyoon’s lunch, so there aren’t even dishes to do or things to put away. Not for the first time, Chan wonders what they would do without him.
He was only eighteen when Jaeyoon was born. All of his friends were either preparing to go off to university or enlisting or moving away to start new jobs. Chan was no different, until his girlfriend Inhye called him frantically in the middle of the night and broke the news in between sobs: she missed her period and decided to take a pregnancy test. It came back positive.
For Chan, the decision to stay and support her was a no-brainer. As far as some of his friends were concerned, he was making the biggest mistake of his life. But they simply didn’t get it—he couldn’t have his own flesh and blood exist on this earth without being part of its life. He wouldn’t.
The only person who didn’t seem surprised by his choice was Minho. He always seemed to understand Chan on a deeper level than anyone else, even Inhye (who sometimes felt like a complete stranger).
Minho was there during the long, sleepless nights when Jaeyoon wouldn’t stop crying and Chan needed someone to call. He was there when Jaeyoon took his first steps and when he said his first word. He was there when Chan decided to propose to Inhye.
He was also there after Inhye said no, and walked out on them a week later.
“He’s only six,” Chan whispered, reading the note she left for the millionth time. It wasn’t difficult—she didn’t say much in it. “How am I going to explain this to him? How is he supposed to grow up without a mother?”
Minho merely shrugged, putting a hand on Chan’s shoulder. It was always obvious he didn’t like Inhye, but Chan appreciated that he kept it to himself and didn’t gloat about being right (at least not at first).
“He has you,” Minho said firmly. “He’s going to be just fine. You both are.”
And they were.
It’s not perfect, of course. Their apartment is small and money is always tight. Chan worries that he works too much and doesn’t spend enough time with his son. Jaeyoon is funny and creative and bright, but he can also be lazy and stubborn.
But overall Chan loves his life. He has a good job, great friends, and an awesome kid. He doesn’t need anything else.
Before he leaves, he notices a frame on the shelf that’s been tipped over, likely from all of the chaos before. He picks it up and pauses when he sees what it is: a picture of him and Jaeyoon on his seventh birthday—the first one they celebrated after Inhye left.
Despite the initial dread Chan had leading up to the day, it ended up being a very good one. He threw Jaeyoon a big party and invited their family and friends, and Felix baked him a huge cake with strawberries and cream (his favorite).
The picture was taken right before Jaeyoon blew out his candles. Chan has his arm around his son, their cheeks pressed together as they beam at the camera. He’s not sure they’ve ever looked more alike than they do in that photo, glowing with happiness despite everything.
As he places the frame upright and prepares to leave for the day, he idly remembers Minho is the one who took that picture.
Several hours later, Chan is trudging back up the stairs to their apartment when he abruptly groans to himself. He didn’t take out any meat to defrost for dinner tonight—he knew he forgot something this morning.
The day wasn’t a bad one by any means, but it was certainly long. He could go back out and pick something up for dinner, but he really doesn’t want to spend more money (or leave the building again). They’ll just have to figure something out, maybe rice and egg.
Chan enters the code to the door and lets himself in with a sigh. He’s immediately met with the smell of meat cooking and the sound of food sizzling. Jaeyoon is sitting at the kitchen table, his head bent over a book, while Minho stands at the stove.
“Hey Dad,” Jaeyoon says without looking up from his homework. Minho turns and smiles when he sees Chan.
“I got out of work early, so I picked Yoonie up,” he explains. Minho’s job as a vet tech means his hours are slightly more flexible than normal. “We didn’t think you remembered to take the meat out of the freezer so we went to the store and got some. I’m making jjapaguri with steak.”
Chan stands in the doorway, taking it all in. “You’re right,” he says finally. “I didn’t remember.”
Minho and Jaeyoon both laugh, high-fiving each other. “Dinner’s almost ready,” Minho says. “You’re out of eggs, by the way.”
Maybe it should bother Chan that Minho is so comfortable in their home, but it doesn’t. They’ve been living in each other’s pockets for years now. Minho spends most of his time here with them anyway and by now he knows how Chan likes things organized, the brands they buy, the ingredients they do and don’t have. Like with everything else, Chan trusts him.
So it’s like second-nature to let him keep cooking as he goes into the bathroom to wash up and get changed. By the time Chan returns, Minho is scooping the noodles onto their plates and adding the cooked steak on top.
“Thanks for doing this,” Chan says as they sit. Minho waves him off and they dig in.
The three of them eat in silence for a few minutes, too busy savoring the food to talk. Then Chan finally asks, “How was everyone’s day?”
Jaeyoon grunts into his dish, which Chan has come to understand means fine. Minho, however, suddenly looks cagey. It’s a subtle change, but his mouth tightens ever so slightly. “Pretty good,” is all he says. “Yours?”
Chan shrugs. “Not bad. Mostly just spent it preparing for my presentation tomorrow. Did anything interesting happen?”
Minho’s practice takes all kinds of animals, meaning he’s treated everything from horses to birds to lizards. Usually he has at least one or two crazy cases to share, but today he merely says, “Uh, no. Not really.”
Jaeyoon’s head snaps up at that. “That’s not true,” he says. Chan blinks.
“What does that mean?”
“One of hyung’s patients asked him on a date,” Jaeyoon says matter-of-factly.
And that’s . . . huh.
Chan doesn’t react for a second. Then he looks over at Minho just in time to see him shooting daggers across the table at Jaeyoon, who goes back to eating his dinner completely unbothered.
“Oh,” he says finally. He tries to think of something positive to say, but his mind has gone eerily blank. “That’s cool. Um, who is it?”
“Just—a guy,” Minho says lamely. He clears his throat. “I mean, his dog is one of our patients, so I see him pretty often. He asked if I wanted to have dinner with him this weekend and I said yes.”
“Oh,” Chan says again. “Well, great. That sounds fun.” Part of him wants to ask why Minho clearly wasn’t going to say anything to him about it, but the answer feels pretty obvious: he didn’t want Chan to know. He was fine with telling Chan’s teenage son, but his own best friend was off-limits? He didn’t think they kept any secrets from each other, but apparently he was wrong.
Minho stares at him for a second, his expression unreadable. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I guess.”
They lapse into uncomfortable silence. After they’re finished eating, Minho helps clean up before he says, “I should get home. I have an early start in the morning.” He seems upset about something, though Chan has no clue what it could be. If anything, he’s the one who should be upset.
“Okay,” is all says. “Talk to you later.” Minho nods once, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Chan stays at the sink with his back turned, listening as Minho gathers his things and traipses through the living room where Jaeyoon is watching TV. He hears their muffled voices as they talk.
Then Minho’s gets a little louder, with an edge to it like he’s irritated. Chan pauses just as Jaeyoon says, “Well, someone had to!”
He doesn’t catch Minho’s response, but the front door firmly shuts a few seconds later. Chan sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He normally doesn’t drink at all on weeknights and will only have a glass of wine or two on the weekends, but for some reason he finds himself grabbing a can of beer out of the back of the fridge and cracking it open.
He goes into the living room and sinks onto the couch next to Jaeyoon. “What are you watching?” he asks. Jaeyoon immediately launches into an explanation of the plot of his new favorite anime, while Chan does his best to listen. He doesn’t really understand it, but Jaeyoon is open and animated while he talks—a rare occurrance now that he’s a teenager, so Chan will happily nod and go along with it anyway.
“So they’re all fighting these dragons now, and Tanjiro just got swallowed by one and is about to get crushed in its jaws,” Jaeyoon finishes. “I need to see if he survives.”
“Right, got it,” Chan says, taking a sip of his beer. “By the way, did you ever get a grade back on that essay from last week?” Jaeyoon spent several days researching and writing it, and even allowed both Minho and Chan to look it over.
Jaeyoon rolls his eyes, annoyed at being asked about school instead of anime, but answers, “Not officially. My teacher gave me some feedback on it, and once I make the edits she’ll actually grade it. But . . . she said it had a strong foundation. Or something.”
“Nice, dude,” Chan says with a grin, poking him in the shoulder. Jaeyoon shrugs, but it’s clear he’s pleased too. They lapse back into comfortable silence, and it’s only when the episode is finished and the countdown to the next one starts that Jaeyoon speaks.
“Dad,” he says, a little hesitantly.
“Hm?”
“Why don’t you ever date anybody?”
Chan almost chokes on his beer. He does his best not to react, swallowing carefully and clearing his throat. He doesn’t say the first thing that pops into his head either, which is why are you asking me that?
Instead he thinks about it before he carefully says, “I’m just busy, I guess. And, you know, dating’s not exactly easy.”
“Because of me,” Jaeyoon says, posing it like a statement.
The truth is yes, it is. After Inhye left, it took a while for Chan to feel ready to date again. She was his first and only girlfriend and the idea of meeting someone else and integrating them into his life was daunting. Eventually he allowed his friends and family to set him up with a few people here and there. But he quickly discovered most of them didn’t want to date a young single dad—not seriously, anyway. And Chan didn’t want to introduce someone to his son if they weren’t in it for the long haul. They’d already been abandoned once. It was too much effort, and Chan knew he had too much baggage. So he stopped trying.
But he’ll never let Jaeyoon know that, of course.
“No, not because of you,” Chan says firmly. “I like my life as it is, and I’ve got enough going on already to even think about dating someone.” He pauses before he adds, “You and I, we do okay on our own, don’t we?”
“Of course we do,” Jaeyoon says. “But I’m going to university in a few years, and I’ll have to do my military service—”
“Don’t remind me,” Chan says with a grimace.
“—and you’ll be here by yourself,” Jaeyoon continues. “And I know you have friends and all, but I just don’t want you to think I’m not okay with you finding someone to . . . you know. Settle down with.”
“I see,” Chan says. He can’t resist teasing, “Are you going to hire a matchmaker?”
“Dad,” Jaeyoon complains, covering his face. “I’m being serious.”
“Sorry, sorry. Go on.”
“I mean it. It really is fine with me if you want to start dating,” Jaeyoon says. “As long as you find someone who’s not a loser.”
His sincerity is touching, especially since Chan can tell it’s a little awkward for him to be talking about. He smiles and ruffles Jaeyoon’s hair. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
Jaeyoon grunts, a sign the conversation is ending. But Chan has one more question. “You don’t have to answer this,” he starts. “But . . . why did Minho tell you about his date and not me?”
Minho's always been something between an older brother and an uncle for Jaeyoon. They adore each other, and Chan’s never once been jealous of their relationship. He knows there are certain things Jaeyoon will discuss with Minho that he won’t with anyone else and he's glad for that. He’s never asked either of them for the details of their private conversations.
It still doesn’t explain why Minho felt comfortable enough to share something with him and not Chan.
His son blinks slowly at him. “You don’t have any idea?” he asks. Chan shakes his head, furrowing his eyebrows. Jaeyoon scoffs. “Dad, you’re hopeless. Just think about it for a bit.”
Before Chan can ask what that means, he turns the volume on the TV all the way up, his chatty mood effectively over.
Minho messages the next morning to say he’s running late for work and he’ll have to just pull up in front of their building. Jaeyoon grabs his lunch (Chan did his best with it, but it’s definitely lacking) and his backpack and calls, “Bye, Dad!” before hurtling out the door.
Their awkward dinner last night left Chan unsettled, and it lingers even as he leaves the house and goes to work.
He’s so lost in thought he doesn’t even realize Changbin is speaking to him until a pair of fingers snap directly in front of his face. “Hyung, you good?” Changbin asks, amused. After starting out as just a casual co-worker several years ago, he quickly wormed his way into becoming one of Chan’s best friends.
“Ah, yeah,” Chan says, a little belatedly. “Just . . . thinking.”
“About what? Something happen with Yoonie?”
“No, no,” Chan says as their other coworker Jisung pokes his head around the wall of Chan’s cubicle. “Well . . . kind of? Maybe?”
“That reminds me,” Jisung interrupts, “what does he want for his birthday?”
Chan stares at him. “His birthday’s not for like, six more months.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Jisung says. “I need to start planning now so I can establish myself as his favorite hyung.”
Chan rolls his eyes. “No offense, but that’s stupid. You know he’s not like that; he’ll love whatever you get him.”
“Besides,” Changbin says airily, “there’s no real competition anyway. No matter what you do, Minho will always be his favorite.”
He says it like a joke, but it makes Chan pause anyway. “What does that mean?” he asks, a little too quickly.
Changbin and Jisung both stop laughing. “I dunno,” Changbin says with a shrug. “Just . . . Minho-hyung’s known you guys the longest. The rest of us are no competition, that’s all.”
“Ah. Right.” Chan lets out a weak, barely-convincing chuckle.
“Hyung, seriously, what’s wrong?” Changbin says. They’re both looking at him expectantly and Chan can’t take it anymore.
“Agh, okay,” he gives in. “It’s not a big deal. But . . . Minho is going on a date this weekend. With a guy from his work. And he told Jaeyoon about it but not me.”
“Oh!” Jisung says. But his tone isn’t one of surprise exactly. It’s almost as if he expected this, but just not today. He and Changbin exchange a glance that only confuses Chan further. “And you’re upset he’s going on a date.”
“What?” Chan says, blinking. “No.”
“No?”
“No!” Chan’s ears and neck are burning, but he’s not quite sure why. “I’m upset because he told my son and not me. Like he clearly didn’t want me to know.”
They stare at him. “Well,” Changbin says slowly. “Have you thought about maybe why that could be?”
“That’s the part that’s confusing me the most,” Chan says, throwing up his hands. “I mean, we’re best friends. We tell each other everything. Why not this?”
“How did you react when you found out?” Jisung asks.
Chan shrugs. “I mean, I tried to be happy for him, but it was still kind of awkward.” He thinks for a second before he adds, “It was almost like he wanted me to be upset about it. But that doesn’t make any sense.”
Changbin and Jisung exchange another look. “What?” Chan demands, a little impatiently. “What am I missing here? Just tell me.”
“Ah, hyung,” Jisung rubs his neck uncomfortably. “It’s really not our business.”
“It sounds like you just need to talk to Minho about it,” Changbin adds. This is even stranger, since the two of them normally love nothing more than meddling in Chan’s personal life. Did all of his friends meet and decide to act like complete aliens without telling him?
“Yeah,” Chan says finally. “You’re right. Let’s just forget about it.”
Jisung goes back to his desk, but Changbin lingers for a second longer. “Hyung, I hope you’re not mad at us,” he says gently. “I just really think you should talk to Minho-hyung. You guys are so close, it would be sad if something like this drove a wedge between you.”
“I’m not mad,” Chan says with a sigh. “I just feel like everyone knows something that I don’t. And it’s frustrating that no one will tell me.”
Changbin hums. “Well, I’ll leave you with this. You can feel multiple different things at once and it doesn’t make any of them less true. So you can be upset that Minho told Jaeyoon about the date and not you, and you can also be upset for another reason too. Does that make sense?”
“I guess?” Chan says. “But what other reason would I have to be upset?”
“That’s something you have to figure out on your own, I think,” Changbin says. He pats Chan on the shoulder before disappearing into his cubicle.
Chan’s got plenty of projects with looming deadlines, but he spends the rest of the day unable to focus on any of them. It’s Tuesday, which means he has three days to get over whatever is going on with him and Minho and go back to normal again.
Changbin’s words float around his brain. You can feel multiple different things at once and it doesn’t make any of them less true.
He definitely feels confused, of course, and a little annoyed about being left in the dark. But Chan’s not stupid. He knows Minho has dated people. He’s even met a few of them, although those occasions were rare. But Minho’s last serious relationship ended almost two years ago, and ever since then he hasn’t mentioned being interested in anyone else.
So it’s just surprising to hear he’s going out with someone, that’s all. It’s also surprising that it’s a patient of his. Minho is well-liked by everyone at his job, but he usually keeps firm boundaries in place there. That’s all it is: surprise.
But beneath those emotions there’s something else too. Something he doesn’t quite understand yet.
Chan wonders what the guy is like, and what he has planned for their date. It could be something as casual as drinks at a bar, although that wouldn’t impress Minho. That cheers Chan up a little: it’s only a first date, and there’s a chance it won’t even be that good anyway.
But then he realizes the inverse is also true. It could be a great first date, and it could lead to a second and a third. They could really hit it off and decide to keep seeing each other. Minho could have a boyfriend. The thought of having to share him with someone else, of no longer being the first person he turns to, makes something ugly and resentful weigh heavy in Chan’s stomach.
Suddenly a memory resurfaces of Jaeyoon at eight years old, upset because his best friend in the neighborhood was playing at another boy’s house that day. Up until that moment they were inseparable.
“But I don’t want Gihyun to be with another friend,” Jaeyoon wailed. “I want him to only be my friend.”
Chan tried not to laugh. “I know, aegi,” he said. “It’s okay to feel jealous. But you can’t have Gihyun all to yourself, that’s just not how it works.”
Is Chan jealous of this nameless, faceless man who asked Minho out?
He’s never thought of himself as a particularly posessive person. But the longer he considers the idea—someone else hanging out with Minho, getting to hear his jokes and eat the food he makes—the worse it makes him feel.
This isn’t good. Chan has no right to feel this way. It’s clear that in recent years he’s been relying on Minho too much, and now he thinks he can just monopolize his time and attention whenever he wants. Minho is young and single and childless, and while he’s been an incredible friend, he doesn’t owe Chan anything.
It’s not fair of him to ruin this for his best friend. No wonder Minho was hesitant to tell him about it.
Chan thought he would feel more settled once he figured all of this out. But there’s still something that isn’t quite right. Maybe he just needs to talk to Minho himself, clear the air and get everything back to normal.
He knows it can get hectic at the clinic and Minho doesn’t often get to look at his phone, so he waits until that evening when his shift must be over to call him.
Minho answers on the fourth ring. “Hello?”
“Hey,” Chan says, clearing his throat.
“Oh, hey,” Minho says. “What’s up?”
“Not much. You done with work?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool, cool.”
The pause that follows is rare for the two of them. In all their years of knowing each other, Chan doesn’t think he and Minho have ever run out of things to talk about. “Did you need something?” Minho asks finally.
“Um,” Chan starts. He scratches his nose. “I just wanted to say—I’m sorry if it seemed like I wasn’t happy for you last night. About your date.” Minho doesn’t respond, so he continues, “I was just surprised Jaeyoon already knew about it.”
“I mentioned it when I picked him up from school.”
“Right. Well. I am happy, and I just wanted to tell you that.” Despite his best efforts to be sincere, it still comes out completely wrong. He knows it immediately, cringing to himself. Judging by the few seconds of silence that follows, Minho does too.
“Got it,” Minho says flatly. “Thanks, hyung. I have to go, actually. I’ll talk to you later.”
He hangs up before Chan can say anything else. He sits there, still holding the phone to his ear, wondering how he managed to make things worse.
Minho doesn’t come inside the next morning either, and he gets called in for back-to-back emergency overnight shifts and can’t take Jaeyoon to school at all on Thursday or Friday.
Even though that has nothing to do with Chan, it doesn’t stop Jaeyoon from shaking his head at him as he grabs his lunch and heads out the door to catch the bus. “What did I do now?” Chan says aloud to the empty apartment.
He’s more confused than ever. He thought calling Minho and trying to clear the air would make things right between them, but obviously it didn’t. There must be another problem, but what could it be? What is Chan not getting that is so clear to everyone else?
He debates going into the office for about five seconds before deciding against it. He knows he’ll be distracted and irritable, and doesn’t feel like dealing with Changbin and Jisung’s cryptic looks again. He sends a message letting everyone know he’ll be working from home.
For the next few hours he manages to actually get some work done, losing himself in the dull comfort of his current projects. He heats up some leftovers for lunch, throws a load of laundry into the washer, and sits back down to keep working.
Jaeyoon comes home later in the afternoon. “Oh, hi,” he says when he walks in and sees Chan sitting there. “You’re home early.”
“Never left,” Chan says absently. “Decided to work from here today.” He looks up for what feels like the first time in ages, blinking. “Is it five o’clock already?”
“Yeah, just about,” Jaeyoon says. He drops his bag and wanders into the kitchen, likely in search of a snack. Chan turns his attention back to his computer, finishing up any loose ends he can before finally being done for the evening.
Just as he’s about to log off, he sees an email from his mother with several files attached. Apparently his parents recently digitized a bunch of home videos from their old camera, so she’s sending a few she found of Jaeyoon as a baby.
Chan has plenty of his own videos from back then, of course, but he doesn’t remember if he’s ever seen the ones his parents took. Either way, he’s always happy to look at old memories like these. Raising a baby was stressful, but Jaeyoon was so cute and sweet that Chan can’t help but feel nostalgic for that time anyway.
He clicks on the first file and the video player opens. Immediately he’s met with the sight of Jaeyoon, about a year old, wearing a diaper and nothing else. He’s standing on Chan’s feet and holding his fingers, apparently about to walk on his own.
“Yoon-ah, you can do it!” a voice Chan recognizes as his mother’s says from behind the camera.
Jaeyoon takes a few wobbly steps, a look of concentration on his round face. Since the camera is trained on him, Chan can’t see his own expression, but he can hear himself laugh. “I think he’s got it,” video-Chan says. “What do you think, aegi? Can I let go?”
Out of frame, someone claps, catching Jaeyoon’s attention. Chan assumes it must be Inhye from the way his little face splits into a huge smile, his eyes creasing with happiness. He starts to squirm, trying to break out of Chan’s grip.
“Okay, okay, go ahead,” video-Chan says with a laugh. He releases Jaeyoon, allowing him to stand on his own. He teeters in place for a second before he takes an unsteady step forward, then another.
Chan’s mother cheers him on from behind the camera, and he can hear his father’s booming voice in the background somewhere doing the same. Jaeyoon takes one more step before he starts to wobble.
Before he can fall flat on his butt, a pair of arms come into frame and scoop him up. As the camera follows, Chan realizes it isn’t Inhye whom Jaeyoon was walking towards.
It’s Minho.
Minho, fifteen years younger but no less handsome. His hair was short back then, fresh from his enlistment. Chan watches, mesmerized, as he tickles Jaeyoon’s belly.
"Our baby took his first steps!” he says proudly, a wide grin on his face. “He’s a big boy, isn’t he? Did you walk all the way to hyung?”
He blows a raspberry on his cheek and Jaeyoon gurgles with laughter. Then Minho’s eyes land on something across the room and he smirks. “Aigoo, Yoon-ah, your dad is such a crybaby,” he says with faux annoyance. “What should we do with him?”
His mother pans the camera back to video-Chan and zooms in on his tear-streaked face. “Shut up,” he mumbles, but he’s smiling. He wipes his eyes and walks over to them so he can kiss the top of Jaeyoon’s head. He puts an arm around Minho while he does, drawing them both closer, and then the video ends.
In the present, Chan sits and stares at the screen for a long time. He feels like he’s just put on a new pair of glasses and now the whole world is suddenly sharper and clearer, everything thrown into focus. He can’t stop picturing the way the three of them looked together in that final clip. Like a family.
Chan lost a lot of things when Inhye left: his girlfriend, his (supposed) first love, the mother of his child. But he understands now that he didn’t lose a partner. Because from the moment Jaeyoon was born, and even before that, Minho’s been by his side.
He’s always made it clear that Minho is never obligated or expected to help out. Even just hanging around occasionally as a cool hyung would be enough. But Minho was still there for Jaeyoon’s baek-il, his first steps, his first day of school. When Jaeyoon can’t get in touch with Chan, he calls Minho next. Once when Jaeyoon was sick, Minho spent three days making him seolleongtang from scratch.
Chan might be Jaeyoon’s actual father, but Minho has helped raise him every step of the way.
Suddenly he understands—everything. He is jealous, because he’s the one Minho should be with instead. He doesn’t want some random stranger sweeping Minho off his feet. It should be Chan.
For a second he just sits there, letting all of this new information sink in. Maybe it should feel more monumental than it does, more earth-shattering. After all, he did just realize he’s in love with his best friend. But instead it’s just . . . right. The nagging feeling that’s lingered in the back of his head for days now is finally gone.
Then his mind turns, as it always does, to his son. Normally Chan would wait to tell him about something like this, just to make sure it actually sticks. But for some reason he already knows if he and Minho do this, they’ll be in it for the long haul. It’s just a matter of making sure Jaeyoon is okay with it first. He knows Minho would agree too.
Chan gets up and slowly makes his way into the living room. Jaeyoon is sitting on the couch, scrolling through some webtoon on his phone. “Hey,” Chan says.
“Hey,” he answers without glancing up.
“Can I talk to you something? Something important?” Chan says carefully.
Now Jaeyoon looks at him. “Am I in trouble?”
Despite everything, Chan snorts. “No, dude. Unless you have something to tell me?”
“No, no,” Jaeyoon says quickly. “Please continue.”
Whatever. Chan will find out in the end regardless. He focuses on the main topic at hand. “Okay, um, so this might be a lot to digest at first, and if you need to take some time to think about it I understand. And I want you to know that you’re my first priority over everything, so if you aren’t—“
“Dad,” Jaeyoon interrupts. “Just tell me.”
Chan exhales, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. He sits down next to his son, who is looking at him with increasing concern. “Um,” he starts. Say it. Just spit it out. “Okay. So . . . how would you feel if . . . Minho-hyung and I . . . got together? Like, romantically?”
Jaeyoon blinks for a second. Then he scoffs. “That’s what you’re so freaked out about?”
“Yes,” Chan says, bewildered. “Wait, what does that mean? You’re not surprised?”
“Of course not,” Jaeyoon says. “I’ve been waiting for you both to figure it out for ages now. I knew Minho-hyung would get there first, but I didn’t expect you to be this hopeless.”
Chan’s brain shuts down and reboots. “So . . . you’re okay with it?”
“Duh. Why do you think I told you he was going on a date in the first place?” Jaeyoon points out. “He didn’t want me to say anything, but I figured it would kick you into gear. And it did!” He smirks, pleased with himself.
“Oh my God,” Chan says, staring at him. “You meddled. You’re a meddler.”
Jaeyoon shrugs. “It was getting painful. You two obviously love each other. Now you just need to tell him before he goes on a date with this other dude.”
Chan blinks. He almost forgot that Minho’s date is literally tomorrow. There’s no time to waste. “Shit,” he says. “Okay, you’re right. I need to talk to him.” Then he pauses. “And you’re really sure you’re okay with it?”
Jaeyoon smiles. “Yeah, Dad,” he says simply. “You guys have basically been together my whole life anyway.” Then he adds, “Plus, I told you to find someone who isn’t a loser, and hyung is like the coolest person we know.”
Chan laughs, a little wetly. “Yeah, he definitely is,” he agrees. He leans over and wraps his son up in a hug. “I love you, you know.”
To his surprise, Jaeyoon hugs him back. “Love you too,” he mumbles before pushing Chan away good-naturedly. “Now go get him.”
It’s only when Chan arrives at Minho’s apartment that he realizes—Minho likely isn’t even here. His shift ends at six on Fridays.
He’s prepared to camp out and wait as long as it takes, but it turns out he doesn’t have to: he paces back and forth for maybe ten minutes before the elevator dings. Then Minho is coming down the hallway.
He looks tired. He’s still wearing his scrubs, his backpack hanging off of one shoulder. He blinks and slows down when he sees Chan. “Hyung?”
“Hey.”
“What’s going on?”
“I was waiting for you,” Chan says, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “I need to talk to you, and it's kind of urgent.”
“Okay,” Minho says. “About what?”
Chan takes a deep breath. “I—I don’t want you to go on that date tomorrow,” he says. He immediately winces, because once again that came out completely wrong. Minho just seems to have that effect on him.
“I see,” Minho says with a slow nod of his head. His expression is blank, but Chan can tell he’s on the verge of being very annoyed. “And you came all this way just to tell me that?”
Chan fidgets with his hoodie string. “Well, no,” he says. “I don’t want you to go on any dates, actually. At least with other people.”
“Other people?” Minho repeats. “What are you saying? Spit it out, Bang Chan.”
“I mean people who aren’t me,” Chan blurts out. Minho’s eyes widen just a fraction. And once the words start coming they don’t seem to stop.
“I don’t want you getting asked out by someone at work—and a dog owner no less, come on—or meeting people at the store or on dating apps or at bars. I don’t want anyone else getting to take you on dates and make you laugh and hold your hand. Because . . . it should be me doing all that.”
Minho stares at him. Then he whispers, “Where is this coming from? Why now?”
“I know,” Chan says. It’s almost laughable, how much time he’s wasted. “It was driving me crazy why you didn’t tell me at first. And then it was driving me crazy why I cared so much. I was jealous, but I thought it was because I was just being a bad friend and depending on you too much. That’s why I called you the other day.”
At this Minho makes a noise that’s somewhere between a scoff and a giggle. “Unbelievable.”
“Yeah,” Chan says, smiling a little. “But then I finally realized . . . all this time, you’ve been my partner. In every sense of the word. It was so easy, so normal, that it didn’t even occur to me to make that leap until something disrupted it. I’m sorry it took me so long, but if I’m not too late then . . . well.” He swallows and asks timidly, “Am I too late?”
“That depends,” Minho says quietly. Chan’s heart drops, but then he adds, “On what you do want.”
That part is easy. “I want . . . I want to kiss you,” Chan says. “I want you to help me pack lunch in the morning and I want to cook dinner together in the evenings. I want to go grocery shopping and visit you at work and hold your hand and go on dates. I want to move in together. I want to keep building a life with you because I love the one we have already. I want it to be the three of us forever. Just you, me, and our son.”
Minho’s eyes are shining. He rarely cries, and maybe that should scare Chan, but the smile on his face says it all. “I want that too,” he whispers, the tears finally spilling over. “More than anything.”
That’s all Chan needs to hear. The relief coursing through him makes it difficult to move his limbs, but he manages to step forward and close the distance between them. He wraps his arms around Minho’s waist and Minho cups his jaw, pulling him into a kiss.
It’s a little wet, since now they’re both crying. But it’s still the best kiss of Chan’s life. He never knew it could feel this way—so natural, so easy, so right. He’s kissing his best friend, one of his favorite people in the world, and it’s just like breathing.
They kiss until they’re breathless and have to come up for air, and even then Chan finds himself chasing Minho’s lips, already missing his mouth. “Hyung,” Minho laughs, putting a hand on his chest. “We’re in my hallway!”
“So let’s go inside,” Chan says. Then he realizes the implications of his words and backtracks. “I mean—hang on. I love you and I want to do everything with you, but maybe not right away? Maybe we take it slow first? Just because it’s so new, and you’re so important to me, and everything with Jaeyoon, I don’t—”
Now Minho does kiss him again, just to stop his nervous rambling. “Hyung,” he says, and his voice is so, so fond. “Come inside. I’ll make us dinner. And we can just talk. Okay?”
“Okay,” Chan says gratefully. As always, Minho knows just how to pull him out of his head. Then he adds, “I mean, I’d like it if we could kiss a little, though.”
Minho laughs as he punches in his door code. “I’m sure we can work something out.”
When Chan wakes up the next morning, everything feels normal for a second. Then the events of last night come flooding back.
He ended up staying at Minho’s much longer than he anticipated. True to his word, Minho cooked them dinner and they ate together at his kitchen table before moving to the couch.
They did a lot of talking (and yes, kissing) before Chan finally remembered to check his phone and saw it was almost midnight. “Shit,” he said guiltily. “I should go home; I left Jaeyoon all by himself.”
“I think he’ll be more annoyed that you didn’t immediately text him with an update,” Minho said, amused. “Plus, leaving a fifteen year old boy alone on a Friday night? He’s probably thrilled.”
Chan laughed. “Yeah, you’re right.” Then he remembered. “Did you know he told me about your date on purpose? He thought it would ‘kick me into gear.’ Can you believe that?”
Minho grinned. “I thought that might be what he was doing. I didn’t expect it to work, though.” His face fell a little, turning serious. “And . . . I am sorry I told him and not you. When I picked him up from school that day, it just sort of slipped out.”
“Why didn’t you want me to know?” Chan asked quietly.
Minho sighed. “I didn’t even really want to say yes to the date in the first place. But I convinced myself I needed to get over my feelings for you. And I knew if I told you, or involved you in any way, it would just weaken my resolve to do that.” Then he laughed, a little self-consciously, and added, “Plus, I think if you were genuinely happy for me, it honestly might have killed me.”
Chan nodded, absorbing that. “Well,” he said slowly. “I’m glad you didn’t get over those feelings. And I’m glad you accidentally told Yoon. And I’m glad he’s nosy as hell. ”
“Yeah, you raised a meddler, Bang Chan.”
“We did,” Chan corrected, because it was true and because he wanted to see Minho’s ears turn red. “And he’s a little shit, is what he is.”
Still, they agreed everything was too new for Chan to start staying over just yet. So Minho walked him to the door, and Chan stepped into the hallway and faced him.
“Well, good night,” he said.
“Good night, hyung,” Minho answered. A few seconds passed as they both awkwardly hovered on either side of the doorway. Chan wasn’t sure what to do. Should they kiss? Should he just leave?
Before he could overthink it, he blurted out, “Do you want to come over for breakfast tomorrow?”
Minho smiled broadly. He leaned up and kissed Chan soundly on the mouth. “Of course I do,” he murmured. “Dummy.”
“Okay,” Chan said, oddly relieved. He’d literally watched Minho message the dog owner to cancel the date. But it all still felt a little surreal. He wasn’t too late; Minho loved him too. They were really doing this. “I’ll see you then.”
“See you then,” Minho echoed. He pressed another kiss to Chan’s lips, sweet and slow. “Sleep well.”
Chan practically floated all the way home. The apartment was dark and quiet when he arrived, and he saw Jaeyoon was fast asleep when he poked his head into his room. Chan thought about waking him up, but decided against it. He’d tell him everything in the morning.
Now, he climbs out of bed and heads to the kitchen to get started on breakfast. He’s just in the middle of getting the rice going and brewing some coffee when he hears their apartment door unlock and click open.
Chan looks over his shoulder, trying to tamp down the equally nervous and excited butterflies wreaking havoc in his stomach. Minho is standing there, a box of pastries in his arms and a shy smile on his face. He looks soft and comfortable in sweatpants and a hoodie, and Chan’s heart leaps at the knowledge that this will be the rest of his life from now on.
“Hi,” he manages.
“Hi,” Minho answers, toeing off his shoes. “I brought pastries.”
“Thanks,” Chan says. “I made you coffee.”
“Thanks.”
They stand there for a few seconds, just grinning at each other like idiots. Chan has to shake his head a little to clear it. “Um, so come on in.”
“Oh, right.” Minho enters the kitchen and sets the box down on the table. As soon as his arms are free Chan is wiggling his way into them.
“Ugh,” Minho complains, but he melts into the hug easily. Chan breathes him in, that specific combination of Minho’s soap and detergent and skin. His hoodie is soft against Chan’s cheek, and he’s warm and solid. They fit perfectly together. Chan never wants to let go.
“I love you,” he says quietly.
“I love you too,” Minho says. He leans back so they can look at each other, brushing his thumb across Chan’s jaw. Then they meet in the middle for a kiss and it brings back all the sensations of last night: their first one in the hallway, that blossoming, luminous joy. And again on Minho’s couch, kissing over and over until Chan was practically melting into the cushions, warm and hazy, wanting to be so much closer still.
Then a voice behind them says, “I guess you two figured things out.”
They spring apart instantly. Jaeyoon is standing in the doorway squinting at them. He looks half-asleep still, his hair a mess. Chan thought for sure he wouldn’t be awake for a few more hours.
A beat passes. Then Chan takes another step away from Minho, cringing. “Uh, yes,” he says, hoping he isn’t blushing too much. He clears his throat. This definitely isn’t the ideal way to confirm things, but there’s no taking it back now. “Minho-hyung and I . . . yeah. Sorry you had to, uh, see . . . that.”
“I’m not,” Minho says bluntly, which fortunately dissipates some of the awkwardness in the air. Jaeyoon snorts. “Hey, this is technically all your fault anyway, isn’t it?”
“That’s true,” Jaeyoon says, finally entering the kitchen and shouldering past Chan to pour some coffee. “Although I’m kind of regretting it now.”
He’s clearly joking, but Chan still feels the need to say, “It won’t happen again.”
“Not while you’re around, at least,” Minho mutters. Chan elbows him just as Jaeyoon turns to face them.
“Are you both happy?”
Chan bites his lip. He glances at Minho, who is already smiling, before looking back at his son and nodding. “Yeah. Really happy.”
Jaeyoon shrugs. “Then I’m happy.” Before Chan can tear up, he adds, “But I’m not calling hyung ‘Dad.’”
Minho cackles, loud and bright. Quick as a flash, he grabs Jaeyoon in a headlock. “Yah, you think just because it all worked out, I’m going to forget that you told him my business? No way, dude. You’re dead.”
Jaeyoon shrieks with laughter, and Chan quickly takes his coffee mug so the two of them can properly wrestle. He leans against the counter and watches, so fond his heart might explode. This is how it should be, he thinks: just the three of them forever. Just him and his boys.