Chapter Text
It had been a usual day one of those mornings that didn’t announce itself as special in any way. Seongje and Hyeontak got up side by side, still heavy with sleep, moving through the apartment with the quiet familiarity that only years of shared mornings could bring.
They got ready together, exchanged a few soft words over breakfast, the clinking of cutlery and the hum of the city outside filling the pauses between them, before heading out into the day. They were grown men now. Not because time had simply passed, but because life had pressed them into the shapes they carried today.
Every challenge they had faced together had left a mark some visible, some buried deep beneath the surface. And yet, those marks were what bound them together, weaving their relationship into something deeper than either of them had ever thought possible.
Hyeontak slipped into his uniform with practiced movements. The fabric sat differently on him now, carrying the weight of his recent promotion. Detective. A word that still felt unreal at times, but one that made everyone around him proud, especially Seongje. Seongje, in contrast, dressed simply. Black jeans, a ribbed brown turtleneck sweater. Nothing that hinted at who he used to be.
Anyone who had known him back in the union wouldn’t recognize him now. Not because of his clothes, not even because he was engaged to his former enemy but because the sharp edges that once defined him had softened. Because he now worked in a social field. Because the violence that once came so easily to him had been replaced by patience, by listening.
Keum Seongje.
Former union co-leader. A man who had once hurt others simply because he could, because it felt easier than feeling anything at all. A man who had never cared about emotions, not his own, and certainly not anyone else’s. Now worked with teenagers.
Hyeontak wouldn’t say that Seongje had changed completely. That would have been a lie. There were still moments where the past showed through, in the way Seongje tensed when voices grew too loud, in the way anger sometimes flickered just beneath the surface. But over the years, he had learned empathy. He had learned restraint. He had learned how to stay.
His job was to take care of teenagers who reminded him painfully of himself. Kids without homes, without families, kids who believed the world had already decided against them. Seongje helped them find places to stay, talked them through family conflicts and broken friendships, tried to convince them to quit smoking, something that always earned him ironic looks, considering he still carried the habit himself. But most importantly, he listened. He stayed. He didn’t leave when things got ugly.
Sometimes, when a teenager sat across from him with crossed arms and defiant eyes, Seongje felt a strange ache in his chest. Because he knew that look. Because he had once needed someone like this and had never had them. He liked who he had become. More than that he was proud of it. He was the person he had needed back then. And Hyeontak had been the one to show him that he was worth becoming that person.
The one who had changed him, without ever demanding that he be anything else.
When people first found out about them, no one took it seriously. Keum Seongje and Go Hyeontak? Together? It sounded like a bad joke. But eventually, people stopped laughing and started understanding. Two broken souls, in very different ways, had found something real in each other.
At first, even they hadn’t understood it. There had been fists before there had been hands held. Violence had been their language long before tenderness ever found its way between them. They fought, and somewhere along the way realized that the fighting was just an excuse, a way to touch, to feel, to get close without admitting why.
They started meeting in secret. Quick hookups. No lingering. No promises. Neither of them willing to be the first to say that it meant something. Seongje couldn’t understand it. How someone like Hyeontak could look at him with anything other than fear or hatred.
Especially after everything. Especially after he had stood by and watched Baekjin smash his knee right in front of him. Back then, Seongje had felt something unfamiliar twist in his chest.
Guilt.
Heavy and suffocating. That guilt turned into anger, as it always did. And when the emotions became too much when Hyeontak’s presence started to unravel parts of him he wasn’t ready to face Seongje did what he had always done.
He left.
He left because he believed Hyeontak deserved someone better. Someone kind. Someone gentle. Not someone who had once hurt him for fun. And more than that he left because he couldn’t believe Hyeontak when he said he loved him.
How could anyone love him?
But Hyeontak didn’t give up. He never did. He let Seongje leave. Let him come back. Let him fall apart, scream, cry, laugh and he waited. He always waited. Until Seongje felt safe enough to stay. Until he understood. Until he finally realized that he wasn’t unlovable.
Time passed quietly after that. Not without setbacks, not without scars reopening, but steadily. Days turned into months. Months into years. And somewhere along the way, the fighting stopped being the loudest thing between them. They graduated. They moved into their own apartment. A place that slowly turned into a home.
Seongje discovered his desire to work in social services. Hyeontak studied relentlessly, driven by a need to protect, to save, to matter. Seongje had been proud of him back then and he still was. Watching Hyeontak become a detective felt like watching someone step exactly into who they were meant to be. That hero complex had always been there. But now it had direction, a purpose.
They were happy. Truly. Not in a loud, dazzling way, but in the quiet certainty that settled into their bones. Happiness for them meant shared mornings, knowing glances across a room, the comfort of coming home to someone who stayed.
“Please remember that we’re babysitting Sohee today. I’ll pick her up from kindergarten after my shift,” Hyeontak said, lifting his cup to his lips. The steam from his coffee fogged the air between them for a moment.
Sohee.
Even her name carried warmth with it.
She was the daughter of Sieun and Suho bright, curious, endlessly energetic. Today, she would be spending the afternoon with them.
“Yeah, why are we watching her today?” Seongje asked, leaning back slightly. “Isn’t that usually Juntae’s job?” It wasn’t a complaint, just an honest question. If Suho and Sieun needed someone, they almost always turned to Juntae.
He had the patience, the experience, the calm that came with already having children of his own. His home was loud and full, a place where toys lay scattered across the floor and laughter echoed from room to room. But today, Juntae was busy. And somehow, that responsibility had landed in their hands.
“Well, Juntae has his own appointments,” Hyeontak replied as he stood, gathering their dishes. “And we can watch our niece once too.” Seongje nodded, pulling on his shoes.
“I was just wondering.” He paused at the door, keys in hand, watching Hyeontak move through the kitchen. There was something grounding about the sight the familiarity, the ease. He pushed the feeling down gently and left for work.
…….
The day passed in fragments. Conversations with teenagers who carried too much anger for their age. Stories of broken homes, clenched jaws, defiant silence. Seongje listened, offered what help he could, and carried those stories with him long after his shift ended.
By the time Hyeontak’s workday was over, the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the streets. When he entered the kindergarten, the room fell oddly quiet. Children stared wide-eyed, curious. The uniform always had that effect. Authority wrapped in dark fabric.
Before he could say anything, small arms wrapped tightly around his legs.
“Samchon!” Hyeontak laughed, bending down to scoop Sohee up. “Hi, my love. Did you miss me?”
“Samchon, where are appa and papa?” she asked, soft brown eyes searching his face.
“They had to go somewhere really boring,” he said gently. “So you get to spend the day with me and Samchon Seongje.”
She considered this for a moment, then broke into a grin. “Okayyyy.” The ease with which children accepted the world always amazed him.
………….
The car ride home was loud and joyful. Sohee talked endlessly about her day, about the rabbit plushie her appa had won her from a claw machine, about things that made little sense but felt incredibly important to her. Hyeontak listened, responding when needed, smiling more than he realized.
At the apartment, Sohee refused to walk. Her arms reached up instinctively and Hyeontak carried her without hesitation. When Seongje opened the door, he froze for just a second. The sight struck something deep in his chest Sohee clinging to Hyeontak, small and safe, her laughter muffled against his uniform.
“Samchon Seongje!” she squealed.
“Sohee angel,” Seongje laughed softly, taking her into his arms.
“Go change,” Seongje said to Hyeontak. “Then we’ll eat. I made jajangmyeon.”
The kitchen filled with sound and movement. Laughter. The clink of chopsticks. Sohee’s enthusiastic and messy eating, which she probably got from Suho. Seongje watched them both, something quiet and unfamiliar blooming in his chest.
After lunch, they dressed Sohee for the park, laughter spilling into the hall as she ran ahead, her tiny legs pumping with boundless energy. Seongje and Hyeontak followed closely, matching her pace, letting her lead the way.
The park smelled faintly of grass and sunlight, the world around them alive with the simple joy of children at play. Seongje noticed how Hyeontak’s hand hovered near Sohee’s, ready to steady her if she tripped, but allowing her enough independence to explore. There was a delicate balance in that the kind of patience Seongje knew he himself had learned over years of struggle and care.
“Look, a butterfly!” Sohee’s voice cut through the air, high and sweet, as she pointed to a delicate yellow creature perched on a flower. Hyeontak crouched down beside her, gently nudging her so she could see it more closely.
“Do you want me to take a picture so we can show Appa and Papa later?” he asked softly, and Sohee nodded, her eyes sparkling. Seongje watched them, his heart swelling in a mixture of awe and longing.
He quietly snapped a picture himself, capturing the small, perfect sight, his fiancé and his niece, bathed in sunlight, their expressions open and joyful. The scene was more than cute. In that moment, he could almost see the future, a life filled with laughter, trust, and love, and he understood with sudden clarity that he wanted that life with Hyeontak.
…………….
The afternoon passed in a blur of sandcastles, swings, and hide and seek. By the time they walked back to the apartment, Sohee was exhausted, her small frame pressing against Seongje as he carried her up the stairs. She fell asleep almost instantly when they settled on the couch, and Seongje gently tucked a blanket around her.
He could hear Hyeontak moving softly behind him, the sound of the shower, and he felt a contented heaviness settle over his chest, it all felt so domestic, so right.
“Sieun and Suho will be here soon.” Hyeontak said after his shower, sliding onto the couch beside Seongje. He rested his head lightly on Seongje’s shoulder, and Seongje let his fingers thread through Hyeontak’s hair, gently massaging the scalp. The comfort was profound, intimate in a way that didn’t require words.
“I think we should watch Sohee more often,” Seongje murmured, his voice soft, almost reverent. “She’s… wonderful. And we’re good at this.” Hyeontak smiled, a slow, drowsy smile, eyes glinting with tenderness. “Yeah. We are,” he whispered and then yawned, settling against Seongje. The world outside fell away, leaving them in the quiet, domestic stillness of family, of trust, of shared love.
…………
Weeks passed, but the images, the feelings, the quiet from the day of watching after Sohee lingered. Sitting at his desk one afternoon, Seongje scrolled through the photos of their day with Sohee, lingering on each one longer than necessary.
He studied the picture of her sleeping on their couch, the tiny fingers curled against the blanket. Then he looked at Hyeontak crouched beside her, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips, eyes filled with patience, love, and wonder. His chest tightened. He had known this feeling before, in pieces, in small glimpses. But now it was undeniable. He wanted this, an own family, an own home, a life where love could be multiplied and held.
The thought was tender, terrifying and exhilarating. He opened his phone and typed the message he had been circling in his mind for weeks:
“Honey, let’s go out for dinner tonight. You choose the place, I’ll come pick you up from work.”
Even sending it made his heart beat faster. He was hoping that the conversation he planned in his head, worked out just as he imagined.
…………..
Later, after their dinner at the restaurant, seated across from Hyeontak in the quiet intimacy of their apartment, Seongje reached out, taking his fiancé’s hands and holding them against the table.
“I’ve wanted to talk to you about something that won’t leave my mind,” he said, voice low, steady, almost reverent. “I know we’re busy. Your promotion, our wedding planning… But ever since we looked after Sohee, I can’t stop thinking about starting a family with you. I want to have a baby with you.” Hyeontak’s eyes widened, softening with wonder. The vulnerability in Seongje’s gaze, the seriousness, desperate hope struck him deeply.
“Baby… I always thought you didn’t want children,” he whispered. “I did,” Seongje admitted, “but after seeing you with her, I realized I do. I want it with you. I want us as parents.” Hyeontak’s fingers brushed over Seongje’s knuckles, pressing them to his lips.
“I would love that too… but let us get married first. Sieun once told me it’s easier to adopt after marriage. Okay?” Seongje nodded, a soft gummy smile curving his lips.
“I love you.”
“I love you too,” Hyeontak whispered back, voice low, tender, and full of unspoken promises.
Later, lying together in the quiet darkness of their apartment, Seongje traced the contours of Hyeontak’s face in the dim light, feeling the weight and warmth of the man he loved, and the family life they would share soon. He felt a certainty he had never known before, this love, this family, this future, was theirs to hold, tenderly, and forever.
The world outside might be uncertain, cruel, or demanding, but here, together, everything felt safe, complete, and full of infinite possibility.
And with that warm, loving and exciting feeling, Seongje slowly drifted off to sleep, next to his soon to be husband, soon to be father and all he could feel was love and joy for their future life.