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Five years after their debut, the relationship between Seonghwa and Hongjoong finally bloomed from a shared burden of leadership into something far more personal and intimate. It had been years of being called the "parents" of the group—a title solidified during a variety shoot where a fortune teller looked at them and bluntly stated that their destinies were intertwined like the roots of a tree.
The transition to a relationship was surprisingly led by Hongjoong. It happened one night in the quiet, dim hallway of the studio. Hongjoong had stopped Seonghwa, his hands trembling as he gripped the hem of his oversized hoodie.
"Hwa, I can't do this anymore," Hongjoong had started, his voice a frantic whisper. "I’ve tried to stay professional, but you’ve become my muse in every single song I write. I’m going crazy. Every day that passes, I just want to pull you aside and tell you that I'm completely lost in you. I can't just be your 'Captain' or your 'best friend'—I’m losing my mind because I need to be your boyfriend."
Seonghwa had blinked, a slow, triumphant smile spreading across his face. A month ago, Seonghwa had sat on his bed, scrolling through Atiny’s "Loser Hongjoong" posts, and wondered just how real that agenda was. He had decided right then to push every single one of Hongjoong's buttons. He had spent weeks being intentionally devastating: lingering his touch on Hongjoong's waist during stage rehearsals, whispering praise right against his ear in the makeup chair, and tilting his head just so the light hit his neck when he knew Hongjoong was watching. Seeing Hongjoong standing there now, completely unraveled by him, made Seonghwa realize his little experiment had worked perfectly.
"Took you long enough, Joong-ah," Seonghwa whispered, stepping forward to close the gap.
Breaking the news to the members had been an event in itself. They had gathered everyone in the living room, Hongjoong looking like he was about to deliver a world tour cancellation notice.
"We have something to tell you," Hongjoong began, his ears turning bright red. "Seonghwa and I... we’re dating."
The silence lasted exactly three seconds before Yunho stood up, clapped his hands once, and pointed at them. "I knew it! My parents are finally official!"
"Finally!" Wooyoung shrieked, throwing a couch pillow. "We’ve been living in the middle of your sexual tension for five years! My eyes can finally rest!"
Yunho was the first and most frequent to lean into it. He took great pride in his self-appointed title of "oldest son," constantly preening over the fact that his "eomma" and "appa" were finally together. It became his personal mission to ensure the title stuck, treating it with a level of dedication that was equal parts endearing and chaotic.
One morning, he slid into a kitchen chair with a massive, mischievous grin, watching Seonghwa plate some fruit while Hongjoong hovered nearby, looking slightly lost while trying to figure out how to operate the toaster.
"Good morning, Eomma! Good morning, Appa!" Yunho chirped, his voice bright and ringing with satisfaction.
"Eomma?," Wooyoung called out, dragging his feet into the kitchen with San close behind. He looked at the scene and a wicked glint appeared in his eyes. He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Seonghwa’s waist and burying his face in his back. "Eomma! I’m hungry! Tell Appa to step away from the stove before he burns the building down! Why is he even near the kitchen? He's banned!"
Hongjoong froze, his hand inches from the toaster, and looked back with a wounded expression. "I was just going to make toast, Wooyoung-ah. I can handle toast."
"No, you can't," Wooyoung deadpanned, not letting go of Seonghwa. "Eomma, tell him! He’s a hazard! Make him go sit on the couch and wait for his coffee like a good Appa."
Seonghwa let out a startled laugh, patting Wooyoung’s hands. "He’s right, Joong-ah. Just go sit down. I've got it."
Hongjoong grumbled, his ears turning a tell-tale shade of red, but he retreated to the living room with the air of a defeated man.
Once he was out of earshot, Wooyoung’s playful tone shifted. He pulled back, looking at Seonghwa with genuine concern, and San stepped closer, echoing the sentiment. "But seriously, hyung," Wooyoung whispered. "If he keeps coming home at 3:00 AM for a week straight, I’m worried. Are you okay? Does he need a reminder that he has a home and a boyfriend?"
San nodded firmly. "If he’s making you lonely or sad, tell us. It’s fine that he’s the Captain, but if he’s neglecting you, we’re going to have a talk with him. A loud one. I don't care if he’s the Appa of this group; no one makes our Eomma sad."
Seonghwa leaned against the counter, his heart swelling at their fierce protectiveness. "I promise, I'm not sad. He always comes home. Even if it's right before the sun comes up, I feel the mattress dip and him slide into bed next to me. He never lets me wake up alone, even if he only gets two hours of sleep."
"Ugh, stop," Wooyoung groaned, making a dramatic gagging face and throwing his head back. "The domesticity is too much. My heart is happy for you, but my stomach is turning. You’re so hopelessly in love, it’s actually a health hazard. I can't breathe in this much romance."
The younger trio had their own method of investigation. One evening, when the house felt particularly quiet because Hongjoong was still holed up in his studio, Jongho, Yeosang, and Mingi piled into Seonghwa’s room, uninvited but welcome.
"Hyung, are you lonely?" Mingi asked, hugging a stray pillow and looking like a giant, concerned puppy.
Jongho sat up straight on the edge of the bed, looking like a judge presiding over a high-profile case. "In every K-drama, when the male lead truly loves someone, he makes time. It’s a universal law. Hongjoong-hyung is currently failing the 'Male Lead' criteria. He shouldn't make you wait this long into the night. Are you sure he’s managing his time right now that you're together?"
Seonghwa gathered them close, laughing as he pulled out his phone. "Darlings, listen. You don't need to worry. Look at this."
He held up his phone, showing a string of nonsensical notifications. "He updates me on everything. He sent a video call at 2:00 AM just so I could watch him edit in silence while I did my skincare. He said he needed to see my face to find the right tempo for the bridge."
He scrolled down further and showed them the most recent text. Yeosang squinted at the screen, reading it aloud: "Hwa, just burped. It sounded like a D-sharp. Miss you."
Yeosang went completely speechless. He stared at the text for a long, silent moment, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated deadpan. He looked up at Mingi and Jongho, his voice flat. "Okay. I take back my concern. He isn't neglecting you. He’s just a loser. A total, complete, D-sharp-burping loser."
Seonghwa’s eyes had truly cleared after they started dating. He began to notice all the small, "loser" behaviors Hongjoong displayed specifically when he was trying to be suave.
A few nights later, after the confession, while they were finally watching a movie together on the couch, Seonghwa watched out of the corner of his eye as Hongjoong prepared to make a move. He could practically see the gears turning in the Captain's head.
Hongjoong let out a loud, obviously fake yawn, stretching his arms out wide in a classic move. But halfway through the motion, he seemingly panicked about where to put his hand. His arm stuttered in mid-air, hovering awkwardly six inches above Seonghwa’s shoulder as he reconsidered the angle, his face twisting in a silent, agonizing battle of overthinking. He looked less like a romantic lead and more like a man trying to decide if he was about to touch a hot stove.
Seonghwa didn't make him suffer. He shifted his body, slumping down comfortably until his head rested firmly against Hongjoong’s chest. He felt the Captain let out a long, shaky sigh of relief, all the tension draining out of his frame as his arm finally settled securely around Seonghwa’s shoulders, pulling him tight.
"You're such a dork," Seonghwa teased softly, listening to the rapid, frantic thumping of Hongjoong's heart against his ear.
"I'm your dork," Hongjoong murmured, finally relaxing enough to press a lingering, possessive kiss to the top of Seonghwa's head.
Now, one morning, the Seoul sun had barely begun to claw its way over the horizon, casting a pale, dusty gold across the bedroom. Seonghwa shifted under the heavy weight of the duvet, his eyes fluttering open just in time to see a shadow moving by the closet.
Hongjoong was already dressed in a charcoal hoodie and baggy cargo pants, his movements sharp but hushed. Seonghwa sat up, his hair a chaotic silken mess, and watched the quiet ritual.
"You're leaving already?" Seonghwa’s voice was thick with sleep, a soft rumble in the quiet room.
Hongjoong paused, and walked over to the edge of the bed. He sat down, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from Seonghwa’s forehead. He moved to pull away, but Seonghwa reached out, hooking a finger through the belt loop of Hongjoong's cargo pants and tugging him back down.
Hongjoong stumbled slightly, caught off guard, but he didn't resist. He leaned over Seonghwa, his hands finding purchase on either side of the older man's head. What was meant to be a chaste goodbye kiss quickly spiraled. The kiss was slow, deep, and tasted of lingering sleep. Hongjoong let out a faint, frustrated hum against Seonghwa's lips, his thumb tracing the sharp line of Seonghwa’s jaw with a hunger that made the "staying at the studio" plan feel like a personal punishment.
It turned into a frantic, heated make-out session. Hongjoong’s tongue swept against Seonghwa’s bottom lip, demanding entry that was granted with a soft, needy exhale. His hands slid from the mattress to tangle in the silk of Seonghwa’s hair, tilting his head to deepen the angle. Their breaths hitched in the silence of the dawn, the friction of Hongjoong’s hoodie against Seonghwa’s bare skin sending sparks through the room.
"Hwa," Hongjoong whispered against his mouth, his forehead resting against Seonghwa’s as they both panted for air. "If you keep being like this, I can't bear to leave you right now. Honestly, the studio can wait. It’s a much better idea to just stay here and ravish the pretty boy underneath me."
Seonghwa’s eyes widened, and he immediately smacked Hongjoong’s chest, though he didn't let go of the Captain's neck. "Kim Hongjoong!" he whined, a pretty pink flush creeping up his neck. "You're starting to be so brave. I think I almost miss the version of you that was a total loser for me."
Hongjoong just let out a low, confident laugh, his eyes dark with mischief. "We both know you like me like this," he countered, before leaning back down to claim Seonghwa’s lips again. He swallowed Seonghwa’s protest, coaxing a soft, melodic moan out of the older man that vibrated through both of their chests.
Finally, with great effort, Seonghwa pushed him back, his lips swollen and his eyes glassy. "Go. Before I trap you here forever." He stood up, throwing on a robe to walk a very disheveled-looking Hongjoong to the door, giving him one last lingering squeeze before the Captain finally slipped out.
By 10:00 AM, the kitchen was a disaster zone of half-awake idols and the lingering smell of something vaguely singed. Seonghwa was at the stove, flipping pancakes with the grace of a man who had done this a thousand times. The peace was officially shattered when Mingi came thundering down the hallway, clutching a crumpled piece of lyric paper. He looked like a kid who had just finished a masterpiece and couldn't wait to show it off to his Appa.
Seonghwa found it incredibly endearing; off-camera Mingi was truly the cutest, most earnest soul.
"Hyung! Where's Hongjoong-hyung? I finished it! The verse! I need to show Appa! I used the flow he suggested and it actually works!"
"He's at the studio, Mingki," Seonghwa said softly, plating a pancake.
Mingi’s shoulders dropped instantly, his lower lip jutting out. "Already? But he promised he'd listen to the demo with me today."
Before Seonghwa could console him, Yunho and San wandered in. Yunho was wearing the fuzzy puppy pajama set that Hongjoong had bought for him, looking soft and oversized. San followed, holding a tablet with a dead screen, looking pensive.
"Eomma, is Appa ever coming back?" Yunho asked. His voice was thick with his usual dramatic antics, but there was a sharp hint of genuine restlessness underneath. "The living room feels too quiet. Wooyoung is currently trying to use the air fryer for something that definitely shouldn't be air-fried, and I think the building might explode because no one is there to tell him he's being an idiot."
"And I need him for this," San added, tapping his tablet. "He’s the only one who knows how to fix the lag."
Just then, Wooyoung shuffled in, looking uncharacteristically aimless. He held a charred piece of toast with a pout. Usually, he’d be jumping on Hongjoong’s back or trying to steal his hat, but without his favorite target, he looked like he didn't have anyone to bother. He just slumped onto a stool, staring at the toaster as if it had personally offended him.
In the corner of the room, Yeosang and Jongho sat at the table. They didn't say anything—they were never the loudest ones—but Seonghwa could tell they felt down. Yeosang was picking at his food with a distant gaze, and Jongho was scrolling through his phone with a furrowed brow, his usual steady presence feeling a bit more tense than usual.
Seonghwa looked at his "children." They were circling the kitchen island like hungry sharks, restless without their rudder. A wave of dramatic boredom washed over Seonghwa, and he set his spatula down with a deliberate, heavy clack.
"Sit down, boys," Seonghwa whispered, his voice trembling with a faux-melancholy that was far too convincing.
The kids froze. They scrambled into the chairs, eyes wide. "What is it, hyung?" Mingi asked, his voice a frantic whisper.
Seonghwa let out a long, shuddering sigh. He reached out and took Mingi’s hand in one of his, and Yunho’s in the other.
"Your father..." Seonghwa began, his gaze distant as if staring across an ocean. "He has gone to sea."
Yunho blinked. "To... to sea? Like, we’re going to the beach?"
"No, Yunho-ya," Seonghwa breathed, shaking his head. "To the great sea. The Sea of Production. Last night, a dark cloud gathered over his mind. Your father saw the storm coming and knew he was the only one who could navigate it."
Wooyoung waved his charred toast. "Hush, Wooyoung," San hissed, smacking his arm. "Appa is at sea."
"He boarded the SS-KQ at dawn," Seonghwa continued, his voice rising in dramatic flair. "He looked at me one last time and said, 'Hwa, I must go. The Kraken of the Second Verse is calling.' I begged him to stay for pancakes with his sons, but he told me he had to hunt for the Golden Hook—the treasure that will feed this family for the winter."
"He is currently battling a whirlpool of 808-drums," Seonghwa said, staring at a spot on the wall as if he could see the carnage. "He is tied to the mast of his swivel chair, defying the sirens of exhaustion. He is a hero. But the ocean is vast, and the studio door is locked tight. He has perished to the world of the living for now, lost to the depths of the mix."
A heavy silence fell. Yunho sat back, a slow, delighted grin spreading across his face. He stood up and saluted. "Understood, Eomma. I will keep the 99-line in formation. We shall not let the dorm fall to ruin while the Captain hunts the Kraken."
"I'll write a poem for his return," Mingi declared, his disappointment completely replaced by the thrill of the lore.
Seonghwa watched them scramble away, energized. Even Jongho offered a small, amused nod, and Yeosang’s eyes sparkled with newfound entertainment. Seonghwa leaned back and picked up his coffee, feeling a surge of satisfaction. Day 1 was a success.
His phone buzzed.
[11:15 AM] My Joongie: Just ordered a second espresso. Might be another 10 hours. Sorry, Hwa.
Seonghwa typed back with a smirk.
[11:16 AM] My Muse: Be safe on the high seas, my Captain. The children are praying for your victory over the Kraken. Bring back much gold.
[11:17 AM] My Joongie: ...What?
By the second day, the atmosphere in the dorm had undergone a bizarre, almost cult-like transformation. The usual restless energy of seven boys with a free week had been replaced by a somber, collective dedication to the bit. The dorm felt less like a luxury apartment in Seoul and more like a coastal village waiting for a fleet that had been gone for years.
When San wandered into the kitchen at noon, his hair messy and his expression unusually grave, he didn't just ask for a snack. He approached Seonghwa, who was standing by the window with a distant, longing gaze, and spoke in a hushed, conspiratorial tone.
"Any word from the Captain, Eomma? Has the carrier pigeon finally arrived with news of the fleet?"
Seonghwa didn’t even turn around. He rested his forehead against the cool glass of the window, letting out a long, theatrical sigh that seemed to vibrate through the entire kitchen.
"A tragedy has struck, San-ah," Seonghwa murmured, his voice laced with the kind of gravity reserved for the climax of a tragic opera. "He fought a sea monster in the early hours of the morning—a giant squid with the tangled, judgmental face of our CEO. It rose from the depths of the sub-bass and tried to ink out his inspiration, clouding his vision of the bridge."
San gasped, clutching his chest so hard his knuckles turned white. "Not the CEO-squid... Eomma, tell me he’s holding on. Tell me the ship is still upright."
"He is stuck in the doldrums," Seonghwa continued, finally turning around with a look of profound, staged sorrow. "The air is still, the coffee is cold, and the ship is motionless. He is currently drifting, waiting for the winds of creativity to return and fill his sails. He told me the Kraken was nothing compared to the ink of bureaucracy and the crushing weight of a deadline."
Wooyoung, who had been lurking near the fridge hoping to sneak a piece of ham, let out a loud cackle, clutching his stomach as he nearly doubled over. "The face of the CEO? God, he really is perishing out there! I can see it now—Hongjoong-hyung throwing a lyric book at a giant tentacle that looks like a contract renewal! 'Take that, you eight-legged budget-cutter!'"
"It isn't funny, Jung Wooyoung!" Mingi scolded, skidding into the room with a notebook tucked under his arm. He looked genuinely distressed by the narrative. "The Captain is suffering for our sake! If he’s in the doldrums, we need to send him energy! Eomma, should we perform a ritual? A dance for the wind? A sacrifice of our least favorite snacks?"
Seonghwa watched with hidden glee as the three of them—San, Wooyoung, and Mingi—actually started a slow, rhythmic circle in the middle of the kitchen. They began waving dish towels and chanting, "Wind for the Captain! Wind for the Appa!" Yunho joined them a moment later, not even asking for context. He just picked up a wooden spoon and started druming a steady beat on a pot. "Steady the mast! Bring the Captain home!" he yelled, fully preening in his role as the oldest son leading the charge.
The kitchen was a mess of flailing towels, rhythmic chanting, and the smell of burnt toast, but for the first time in forty-eight hours, the kids looked energized. They weren't just missing their leader; they were participating in his legend.
Seonghwa’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, shielding the screen from the "children" as they continued their maritime ritual.
[1:42 PM] My Joongie: Hwa, I think I’m losing it. I’ve been staring at the same four bars for three hours. I feel like I’m stuck in a loop. I might need to take a nap on the studio couch. My brain feels like mush.
Seonghwa’s eyes sparked with mischief. He quickly typed back, his thumbs flying across the keyboard.
[1:43 PM] My Muse: The doldrums are cruel, my Captain. The boys are currently performing a sacred wind dance in the kitchen to help your sails catch the breeze. Even the oldest son is drumming for your return. Beware the ink of the CEO-squid. It seeks to cloud your genius. Stay strong.
There was a long pause. The "Typing..." bubbles appeared, disappeared, reappeared, and then finally:
[1:45 PM] My Joongie: Did Wooyoung put something in your tea? Or did you finally snap? Also... CEO-squid? Why do I feel like I’m the main character of a fever dream you’re having? Hwa, please send help. Or food. Mostly help.
[1:46 PM] My Muse: Just sail home to me when the wind returns. Your treasure is waiting in our bed.
Seonghwa tucked the phone away just as Jongho walked in. The maknae stopped dead, watching the towel-waving, spoon-drumming trio with a face of pure, unadulterated judgment. He looked at the chaos, then at Seonghwa, his expression flat and unimpressed.
"I assume the Captain hasn't made port yet?" Jongho asked, his voice deadpan.
"He is drifting, Jongho-ya," Seonghwa replied, matching his tone perfectly. "The sea is a cruel place, and the CEO-squid has hampered our progress."
Jongho sighed, walked over to the fridge, and pulled out a protein shake. He took a long sip, looking over the rim of the bottle at his dancing hyungs. "Tell him if he isn't back by Day 4, I'm taking over the ship. The mutiny is already being planned. I’ve already convinced Yeosang to change the locks if the Captain returns without a proper apology."
"A mutiny!" San shrieked, stopping his dance. "Jongho-ya, you can't! Think of the Eomma!"
"I am thinking of the Eomma," Jongho said, leaning against the counter. "He needs a Captain who actually comes home for dinner."
Seonghwa chuckled, watching the "sons" commit to the increasingly complex lore. Day 2 was proving that the only thing more powerful than ATEEZ’s teamwork was their collective ability to share the same brain rot, and Seonghwa was more than happy to be the one fueling the fire.
By the third day, the atmosphere in the dorm had shifted from chaotic ritual to a quiet, lingering ache. The novelty of the "pirate" bit was beginning to wear thin, replaced by the simple, human reality that they just missed their leader.
The first one to crack was Yeosang. Usually the most stoic and independent of the group, he wandered into the living room around 10:00 AM and, without a word, tucked himself into the space beside Seonghwa on the sofa. He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned his head against Seonghwa’s shoulder and closed his eyes.
"He’s been gone a long time, hyung," Yeosang whispered, his voice small.
Seonghwa wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer. "I know, Sang-ah. But the news from the horizon is good today. The fog has lifted, and the winds have finally picked up. Your father is back to sailing smoothly. The ship is cutting through the waves like a knife through silk."
Yeosang let out a soft, shaky breath. "I just... I had a dream that the studio door vanished and he was stuck in there forever. I miss the noise he makes when he’s trying to find his slippers."
Seonghwa pressed a kiss to the top of Yeosang’s head, his heart aching at how much his "children" truly relied on that noisy, clumsy Captain. "He’ll be back soon. He’s navigating the final stretch of the instrumental reefs now."
A moment later, Mingi appeared at the doorway, looking uncharacteristically shy. He wasn't holding a lyric sheet this time; instead, he was clutching a small, handheld recorder. "Hyungie?" he murmured. "If Appa is sailing smoothly... do you think he needs a beat to keep the rhythm of the rowing? I recorded some ad-libs and some guide claps. I thought... maybe it could help him steer?"
Seonghwa smiled, beckoning Mingi over. "That is a wonderful idea, Mingki. A Captain is only as strong as the song of his crew."
By noon, Seonghwa realized that digital updates weren't enough to sustain the "sons" anymore. They needed a physical connection. He rounded everyone up in the kitchen, handing out stationery and pens. "We are sending a supply ship," he announced. "The Captain is far out, but we have a fast vessel—our manager—who is heading to the agency heartland as we speak."
For the next hour, the kitchen table was a flurry of activity. San drew a detailed (and slightly terrifying) map of "Safe Waters," while Wooyoung wrote a list of all the things he was going to make Hongjoong do once he returned. Even Jongho, despite his talk of mutiny, scribbled a short note: 'The ship is stable, but the oldest son is getting annoying. Come back and handle your crew. P.S. Drink your vitamins.'
Seonghwa collected all the letters, the drawings, and Mingi’s recorder, tucking them into a neat envelope. He added his own note—a simple, elegant card that just said: 'The harbor is waiting for you. Come home when the treasure is found. I love you.'
He met their manager at the door, handing over the "supply crate" with a wink. "Please deliver this to the Captain. Tell him it’s vital for the survival of the fleet."
The manager, who had long since accepted the group’s shared insanity, just sighed and tucked it into his bag. "I’ll make sure he gets it, Seonghwa-ya."
As the manager’s car pulled away, Seonghwa felt a buzz in his pocket.
[1:15 PM] My Joongie: Hwa, the melody is actually finished. I’m starting the arrangement. How are the kids?
Seonghwa smiled, watching the "sons" through the kitchen window as they tried to organize a lookout post on the balcony.
[1:16 PM] My Muse: They miss you terribly. A supply ship is on its way with messages from home. The oldest son is keeping watch, and the maknae is holding off on the mutiny... for now. Keep sailing, Joong-ah. We’re all watching the horizon.
[1:18 PM] My Joongie: A supply ship? You guys are ridiculous. I love you. Tell the kids I’m coming home as fast as I can.
By the fourth day, the novelty of the free week had completely worn off, replaced by the grueling reality of individual rehearsals. Without Hongjoong in the studio to sharpen their focus or offer that final, decisive nod of approval, the energy in the room was dangerously low. During the afternoon break, the members were scattered across the floor, their shoulders slumped and their expressions clouded with a restless, leaderless fatigue.
Seonghwa, leaning against the mirrors with a bottle of water, watched his "children" struggle. Even the usually high-energy Wooyoung was sitting in silence, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. Seonghwa knew he had to do something before the collective morale sank below the horizon. He straightened his back, his expression shifting into one of fierce, heroic determination.
"Do not look so defeated!" Seonghwa announced, his voice ringing through the quiet studio with the authority of a queen-regent. "Lift your heads! I have just received word from the front—a messenger pigeon has arrived, or well, a very urgent KakaoTalk."
The members looked up, their eyes widening as they instinctively tuned back into the narrative. Yunho sat up straight, his "oldest son" instincts kicking in. "Is it the Captain, Eomma? Is there trouble at sea?"
"The worst kind," Seonghwa breathed, his gaze fixed on a point far beyond the studio walls. "The sky has turned black, and the Captain is currently fighting a massive, legendary storm. The waves are fifty feet high and made of pure, unmixed basslines. The wind is screaming in a frequency that would shatter a lesser man's resolve. His ship is taking on water—too much reverb, too many layers—and the mast is creaking under the pressure of the final chorus."
"A fifty-foot bassline?" San whispered, looking genuinely terrified by the technical scale of the disaster. "Can he stay afloat?"
"Do not fear," Seonghwa said, a proud, sharp smile cutting through his tragic mask. "He will survive. He is currently sustained by nothing but iced americanos and sheer, unadulterated spite. He has tied himself to the mixing desk and is shouting back at the thunder. He told the storm, 'You can break my ears, but you cannot break my rhythm!' He is the Captain; the sea fears him."
A ripple of laughter and impressed murmurs broke the tension in the room. Wooyoung let out a bright, sharp cackle, his energy returning in a sudden burst. "Iced americanos and spite! That’s literally his entire personality! I can see him now, glaring at the monitor like he’s trying to fight the pixels."
"Yeah," Jongho muttered from the corner, a small, impressed smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he adjusted his knee pads. "Iced americanos and spite... that sounds exactly like Hongjoong-hyung. He’d probably try to fight the Kraken for a better sample, too."
The air in the room shifted. The "kids" weren't moping anymore; they were grinning, invigorated by the image of their Captain battling the elements for their sake. They stood up one by one, stretching their limbs with renewed purpose. If the Captain was out there fighting a fifty-foot bassline, the least they could do was perfect their footwork.
Seonghwa checked his phone as they got back into formation.
[3:42 PM] My Joongie: Hwa, the files for the second track got corrupted. I almost threw my laptop across the room. I’ve been re-recording the vocals for three hours. I am literally living on caffeine and anger right now. I’m so tired.
Seonghwa’s thumb hovered over the keyboard, his heart swelling with a mix of pity and pride.
[3:44 PM] My Muse: I know, my Captain. The children know of your battle. They are back on their feet because they know their father is fighting a storm for them. Don't let the spite run out—but maybe eat a sandwich too. The harbor is still here, and I am keeping your side of the bed warm.
[3:46 PM] My Joongie: ...Spite? You told them I’m fueled by spite? ...You’re right. I am. I’m going to finish this out of pure defiance. I love you, Hwa. Tell the kids I miss them.
By the fifth day, the dorm had fallen into a quiet, heavy lull. The initial excitement of the "pirate" narrative had settled into a deep, domestic longing. Mingi, usually the loudest and most energetic of the "sons," had spent the entire morning trailing after Seonghwa like a lost shadow. Every time Seonghwa sat down, Mingi was there, eventually slumping onto the floor and resting his head on Seonghwa’s knee, his expression unusually subdued.
"Eomma," Mingi murmured, his voice thick with a genuine pout. "I really miss him. I tried to record more ad-libs today, but it felt weird not hearing him yell at me to do it again with more 'soul.' Do you think he’s really coming back soon?"
Seonghwa’s heart ached at the sight of the dejected giant. He reached down, running his fingers through Mingi’s hair in a slow, soothing rhythm. "Oh, Mingki. He’s more than coming back. I received word just an hour ago. Your father finally faced the legendary Kraken of the Title Track—the one with the eight-minute bridge and the shifting time signatures. He fought it for twelve hours straight, and guess what? He won. The Kraken has been defeated, and its ink is now being used to print the final tracklist."
Mingi’s eyes brightened instantly, a small smile finally breaking through his gloom. "He won? Of course he did. He’s the Captain."
That evening, the entire group gathered in the living room, a sea of blankets and pillows on the floor. Seonghwa sat in the center of the sofa, looking like a king-consort presiding over a restless court. "Listen up, everyone," Seonghwa announced, drawing their attention away from their phones. "The storm has cleared. The treasures are being packed. The Captain will likely make port tomorrow, or at the latest, the day after."
A cheer erupted that was loud enough to surely reach the neighbors. In the wake of the celebration, the conversation took an unexpectedly soft turn.
"Eomma," San asked, leaning back against Yunho’s legs. "How do you do it? How are you so patient with him leaving you for the studio all the time? And honestly... how did you even fall for him? He's such a dork sometimes."
Seonghwa chuckled, his eyes turning soft and distant as he shed the pirate persona for a moment. "He is a dork," he agreed, making the kids laugh. "But he’s the most brilliant man I’ve ever known. I fell for him because even during our trainee days, when he had nothing but a broken laptop and a dream, he looked at all of you and promised he’d build us a world. He's so stubborn about his art, so fiercely protective of all of you, and even when he’s a bumbling mess trying to be smooth, he’s doing it because he cares so much."
Seonghwa leaned back, a small, private smile playing on his lips. "I love the way he gets so excited over a single drum loop that he forgets to eat. I love that he still gets shy when I compliment his lyrics. I'm patient because I know that no matter how deep he gets into his work, he’s doing it for us. He’s amazing, and I’m just lucky that I get to be the one he comes home to."
The room went quiet for a moment, the "kids" looking unusually moved by the rare glimpse into Seonghwa's heart. But the silence didn't last long—it was quickly replaced by a flurry of planning.
"We have to do something big when he gets back!" Wooyoung declared, waving his arms. "I'm going to cook a feast! Or, well, I'll help Mom cook a feast! No air-fryer disasters, I promise!"
"I want to show him my drawings," San added eagerly. "And we should have a movie marathon where he isn't allowed to look at his phone once."
"I'm just going to tackle-hug him the moment he walks in," Yunho preened, already imagining the look of shock on Hongjoong's face.
Jongho nodded in approval. "I’ll make sure the fridge is stocked with the good coffee. He’s going to need to detox from all that 'spite' he’s been drinking."
Seonghwa watched them, his heart full. The "sons" were ready, and he knew that somewhere in a dark studio, a very tired Captain was counting down the hours until he could finally drop anchor.
By the sixth day, the dorm felt like a village standing on the edge of a harbor, eyes fixed on the horizon with bated breath. The restless energy of the previous days had transitioned into a feverish, productive buzz. Seonghwa decided it was finally time to signal that the end of the long voyage was near.
"The Kraken has been conquered!" he declared at breakfast, his voice resonant and grand as he threw his arms out, nearly knocking over Wooyoung’s orange juice. "The beast of the 'Final Mix' has been slain by your father’s hand. He has navigated the treacherous reefs of the outro and is currently packing the spoils. He'll be making port tomorrow afternoon!"
A roar of approval went up from the table. San and Mingi actually high-fived, while Yunho began hum-singing a triumphant shanty. The narrative had taken on a life of its own; to the members, Hongjoong wasn't just coming home from a long week at the office—he was a conquering hero returning with the spoils of war.
Behind the scenes, however, Seonghwa’s thumbs were flying across his screen with a much more grounded sense of urgency. He was currently perched on the edge of the sofa, hiding his screen from the prying eyes of the 99-liners.
[12:45 PM] My Muse: Joong-ah, the kids have fully integrated my pirate brain rot. They think you’ve been at sea for a week fighting monsters and navigating storms.
[12:46 PM] My Muse: Please, for the love of god, stop at Olive Young or a convenience store on the way home tomorrow. Buy "treasures." Trinkets, face masks, expensive chocolates—anything. If you walk in empty-handed, they will mutiny. I have spent six days building this legend, and I cannot protect you from six hungry, expectant pirates.
There was a tense silence from the other end. Seonghwa watched the "Typing..." bubbles appear and disappear three times, signaling the Captain’s sheer disbelief and exhaustion.
[12:50 PM] My Joongie: A Kraken? Really, Hwa? I left you alone for a week and you turned our children into a privateer crew? I was wondering why Mingi sent me a voice note of 'rowing rhythms' three days ago. I thought he'd finally lost it.
[12:51 PM] My Joongie: I'm just finishing up the final master now. I'll be home tomorrow. I’ll stop at the mall on the way. I’ll find some 'gold' so I don't get thrown overboard the moment I step inside. But you owe me for this, Hwa. Big time.
[12:52 PM] My Muse: I’ll pay you back in person. Just bring the loot. The harbor is waiting, Joong-ah. See you tomorrow.
Seonghwa tucked his phone away, looking up to find Jongho watching him with a knowing, suspicious glint in his eyes.
"Is the Captain approaching the harbor, Eomma?" Jongho asked, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "Or are you just negotiating the terms of his surrender?"
"He is approaching, Jongho-ya," Seonghwa replied with a regal tilt of his head. "He’s finishing the final paperwork for the spoils of war. He’ll be home tomorrow. Make sure the living room is prepared. We must welcome him properly."
The rest of the day was spent in a flurry of "harbor preparations." San spent an hour making a 'Welcome Home' banner that looked like a pirate flag, while Wooyoung and Yeosang argued over which snacks were worthy of a returning hero. The dorm was filled with laughter and a lightheartedness that had been missing for a week.
As the sun began to set on the sixth night, Seonghwa stood by the window, looking out at the city lights. He felt the anticipation in the air, thick and sweet. One more night in an empty bed, and then his "loser" would be home.
The sun was beginning its slow descent over the Seoul skyline, painting the dorm in hues of amber and bruised violet, when the sound finally came—the distinct, mechanical thud of the front door’s electronic lock disengaging.
In an instant, the peaceful, quiet afternoon vanished.
"HE’S HERE!" Wooyoung’s shriek echoed from the kitchen, sharp enough to shatter glass.
"BATTLE STATIONS!" Yunho bellowed, abandoning his video game and sprinting toward the foyer. "FORMATION, EVERYONE! THE CAPTAIN IS MAKING PORT!"
Seonghwa, who had been calmly folding laundry in the living room, felt a thrill of genuine excitement race through his chest. He stood up, smoothing out his silk robe, and walked toward the kitchen counter, leaning against it with a smug, expectant grin. He had spent six days building this legend; now, it was time for the grand finale.
The "kids" didn't just walk to the foyer to greet him. They formed a literal reception line. San stood at the very front, back straight as a rod, hand snapped up in a sharp, military salute. Beside him, Yunho stood with his arms crossed, preening in his role as the "oldest son," while Mingi hovered in the back, clutching his lyric notebook like a sacred shield. Even Yeosang and Jongho had abandoned their tasks to witness the return.
The door swung open, and the "Captain" finally stepped inside.
Hongjoong looked like he had actually been through a Category 5 hurricane. His hair was a chaotic, staticky nest of dark strands that clearly hadn't seen a comb in forty-eight hours. His skin was the pale, ghostly shade of someone who had survived on nothing but fluorescent light and monitor glare, and his eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with the heavy shadows of a week-long battle. He was laden with three massive, crinkling Olive Young bags and a box of premium donuts, his shoulders slumped under the weight of his gear.
He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the line of boys blocking his path.
"CAPTAIN!" San’s voice thundered through the small foyer, making Hongjoong jump and nearly drop the donuts. "Welcome back to the world of the living! We heard of your legendary battle with the fifty-foot basslines! We were worried the Kraken had claimed your soul!"
Hongjoong blinked, his brain clearly struggling to process the words through the thick fog of exhaustion. "What? San-ah, why are you shouting? I... I’m just home from the studio."
Mingi peered around San’s shoulder, his eyes wide and shimmering with a child-like hope. "Did you bring the gold, Appa? Is the treasure real? Did you defeat the CEO-squid?"
Hongjoong froze. He looked at San’s salute. He looked at Mingi’s hopeful face. Then, slowly, his gaze drifted past them to the kitchen, where Seongwha was watching him with a radiant, teasing sparkle in his eyes.
The realization hit Hongjoong like a tidal wave. The Kraken. The sea. The treasure. It was all Hwa.
He started handing out items with the bewildered, frantic air of a man who was desperately trying to remember the rules of a fantasy world he’d just been dropped into.
"Here, San-ah," Hongjoong muttered, handing over a box of golden-packaged honey sheet masks. "A... 'golden' mask to heal your battle scars."
San took it with a gasp of reverence, his eyes wide. "Gold! I knew it! The Captain is victorious!"
"Wooyoung," Hongjoong continued, reaching into the next bag for a box of limited-edition dark chocolates. "Some 'jeweled' sweets for the fastest pirate in the crew."
"YES!" Wooyoung hollered, already tearing into the packaging with his teeth. "Appa's the best! The Captain survived the storms!"
"And Yunho," Hongjoong said, pulling out a six-pack of the most expensive, high-end vitamin drinks the shop had. "The 'elixir' of the gods to keep the oldest son strong." Yunho preened, puffing out his chest as he took the "elixir," nodding as if he were being knighted.
Hongjoong then turned to Yeosang, who was standing a bit more quietly than the others but whose eyes were tracking Hongjoong's every move. Hongjoong reached deep into the bag and pulled out a sleek, premium skincare set—the kind Yeosang had mentioned wanting weeks ago.
"Yeosang-ah," Hongjoong softened his voice. "For the one who kept the peace while I was away. 'Pearls' from the deep to keep your skin glowing."
Yeosang’s eyes lit up, a shy but genuine smile breaking across his face. He stepped forward and took the box, his fingers brushing Hongjoong’s. "Thanks, Appa... I mean, Hyungie. I missed you. The dorm was too loud without you."
Next was Mingi, who looked like he was about to vibrate out of his skin. Hongjoong pulled out a high-quality, leather-bound notebook and a set of professional-grade pens. "Mingi-ya. For the poet of the crew. New 'scrolls' for your future verses. The Sea of Production wouldn't have been half as bright without the 'rowing rhythms' you sent me."
Mingi let out a choked sound, half-laugh and half-sob, and practically tackled Hongjoong into a hug, nearly sending the Captain over. "I miss you, Appa! I missed you so much! Don't go back to the sea for a long time, okay?"
Hongjoong patted Mingi’s back awkwardly, his "loser" energy peaking as he looked at Seonghwa for help. "I... I missed you too, Mingki. I'm back now."
Finally, Hongjoong stood before Jongho. The maknae was the only one not vibrating with excitement, but his gaze was steady and watchful. Hongjoong reached into the final bag and pulled out a heavy, high-tech hand massager and a bag of premium, artisan coffee beans.
"Jongho-ya," Hongjoong said, his voice full of respect. "For the one who actually kept this ship from sinking. 'Steel and Fuel' to keep your strength up. I heard you were planning a mutiny, so consider this a peace offering."
Jongho took the gifts, a small, triumphant smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "It’s a good start, Hyung. The beans look acceptable. I’ll hold off on the mutiny... for at least forty-eight hours." He reached out, patting Hongjoong's shoulder firmly. "Glad you're back. We were... actually worried."
The foyer erupted into a chaotic celebration. The members scrambled away with their "loot," shouting about their successful raid and retreating into the living room to compare their treasures. Yunho was literally preening, holding his vitamins high like a trophy of war.
Hongjoong stood alone in the foyer for a second, his shoulders finally dropping as the noise drifted away. He looked like a man who had been through a war, only to be greeted by a circus. He dragged his feet across the floor, heading straight for the kitchen where Seonghwa was waiting.
He didn't say a word. He just collapsed into Seonghwa’s space, dropping the final bag on the counter and burying his face into the crook of Seonghwa’s neck. His arms wrapped around Seonghwa’s waist with a desperate, bone-deep strength, pulling him so close it felt like he was trying to merge their heartbeats.
"A Kraken, Hwa?" Hongjoong’s voice was a muffled, vibrating growl against Seonghwa’s skin. "You told them I fought a Kraken? I was in a 5x5 booth, not the middle of the Pacific."
Seonghwa laughed, a soft, melodic sound that vibrated against Hongjoong’s chest. He brought his hands up, cradling Hongjoong’s head and smoothing the tangled hair with his fingers. He leaned down, pressing a warm, long kiss to Hongjoong’s temple.
"Just some brain rot, My Joongie," Seonghwa whispered, his voice dripping with affection. "I was bored, the house was too quiet, and the kids were moping because they missed their Appa. I didn't think they’d commit so hard to the pirate lore, but they needed a hero. And you delivered."
Hongjoong pulled back just an inch, his eyes soft and weary as they searched Seonghwa’s face. "I was so worried the whole time I was gone," he confessed, his voice dropping to a vulnerable register. "I thought I was making you feel neglected. I felt like such a failure of a boyfriend, staying out for a week straight when we finally had a break. I kept thinking I was going to walk in and find you'd changed the locks."
"Never," Seonghwa said firmly, cupping Hongjoong’s face and forcing the Captain to see the honesty in his eyes. "I know you're a loser for me, Joong-ah. I know that every hour you spend in that studio is an hour you’re spending for our future. I’m not neglected; I’m proud. Besides..." Seonghwa’s eyes sparked with mischief again. "A wife has to keep herself entertained somehow while her husband is off earning the gold for the family."
Hongjoong let out a tired, adoring laugh, leaning his forehead against Seonghwa’s. "You’re absolutely ridiculous. You’re insane. I love you so much it’s actually a problem."
"I love you too. Now, come," Seonghwa said, grabbing Hongjoong’s hand and leading him toward the living room. "The members are waiting. You have to tell them how you survived the sea monster. If you don't make it sound cool, Mingi is going to be very disappointed."
Hongjoong let out a long, satisfied sigh as he settled onto the sofa. Before he could even adjust his position, Seonghwa was there, pulling Hongjoong back so he could rest his head firmly against the Captain's chest. The "kids" immediately piled around them, sitting on the rug, the armrests, and the back of the couch, their eyes fixed on Hongjoong with unmasked adoration.
Hongjoong looked at the expectant faces of his team, then down at the beautiful man resting in his arms, and finally, he gave in to the bit. He cleared his throat, his voice dropping into a dramatic, low register.
"So, there I was," Hongjoong started, his eyes twinkling as he caught Seonghwa’s wink. "The sky was black, the wind was screaming at 140 BPM, and I was surrounded by ink and a fifty-foot bassline that threatened to pull the whole ship under..."
Seonghwa smiled, closing his eyes and listening to the rhythmic cadence of Hongjoong’s voice. The Captain was finally home, the treasure was distributed, and as the "kids" cheered at the story of the Kraken's defeat, Seonghwa knew that their chaotic, dramatic, beautiful world was finally perfectly in balance again.