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Seonghwa was worried that he’d fall into a loveless marriage.
That was dramatic, but his worries still nagged him as it neared eight at night on Valentine’s Day.
He and Hongjoing had agreed to skip it this year.
And he knew realistically that he had to sacrifice many things when they adopted their children, San and Wooyoung. Many things had to be given up in order to be a parent with the love of your life, and yet it still didn't feel good to miss their first Valentine's in seven years.
Between two full-time jobs and two rowdy kids, their schedule has been wound tight.
If they made it up to each other and celebrated Valentine’s a day later, it’d just be considered a date. And speaking of dates, Seonghwa remembered the last one they'd been on had been weeks ago.
Weeks.
And it’d been ten minutes away from home at a burger place.
They had tried for a date a week ago, but Yeosang, their stay-at-home nanny, had called them in panic over Wooyoung, who had been sick and puking, and how he himself wasn't feeling good. Seonghwa immediately turned around the car to go home and make them soup, a homemade chicken noodle recipe from his father, Yunho.
They hadn’t had many chances for dates the past couple of months, as his parents, Yunho and Mingi, who usually agreed quickly and excitedly to watch the kids, had been on a trip to the US for the winter.
So soon enough, they would keep postponing important events and dates, and then they’d end up cancelling them, and then they’d never have time one-on-one, and then their love for each other would dwindle, and then they’d only be together for the kids and financial reasons.
That was dramatic. Seonghwa knew this, but he couldn't help but be upset regardless.
Even if the kids weren’t sick, Seonghwa always ended up feeling bad for Yeosang, so he would come home regardless. Somewhere along the way, the lines had blurred, and Yeosang went from a stay-at-home nanny to his own teenage son. Hongjoong more often than not had to remind Seonghwa that they paid him to take care of their sons, that it was quite literally his job, but Seonghwa still found it in himself to help. Despite Yeosang being plenty capable with his own car and license, Seonghwa often woke up early to help dress the boys and buckle them in for Yeosang. Yeosang was still a teen, and he shouldn’t be stuck constantly taking care of two preschoolers.
And for Valentine’s Day, Yeosang had wanted to go on a date with his boyfriend, Felix, who was on the same cheer team. There was a budding high school romance between the two ever since the first tryouts, and Seonghwa watched it grow in fondness. He had obviously insisted that the boy take the night off from babysitting to go out with him. It was the only option.
That left Yunho and Mingi to watch the kids, but they had apologized over the phone when telling Seonghwa they already had reservations.
That meant he and Hongjoong had to watch the kids, and that meant no date.
Today, Valentine’s Day, he stayed late at work for his coworkers, who all had dates and left early. Since he didn’t have any plans, he insisted that he should take their extra work and just add it to his overtime.
He had already gotten text updates along with cute stickers of a cartoon chipmunk sending kisses from Hongjoong. He had picked up the boys from catch-up club after school, and they had been fed and were winding down. He didn’t know if he put the boys to bed yet, as he hadn't checked his phone since six.
Seonghwa hoped he had. Wooyoung had been getting increasingly restless every night for the past couple of days. He hoped for both his and his husband’s sake that it’d go over fine with them, and that Wooyoung wouldn’t give him a tough time.
He was not excited to go home to a quiet house with everyone asleep, however. He was tired, but he knew as soon as he got home, he’d be busy cleaning. As much as he loved Hongjoong, which was very much, his husband was a bit more on the messy side, as he overlooked many things that bugged Seonghwa.
They’ve talked about it a lot, and he promised him that he’d try better to clean up more, but there was only so much time they had to clean in between their shifts. He understood that Hongjoong was often busier than him, as his job always had him on call even when he was on his time off. He’d always be awakened early to his husband rolling out of bed to answer a work call or get on his computer to finish emails. But a messy, unorganized house always bothered Seonghwa. He liked to start his mornings with a fresh canvas.
He sighed as he finished typing in a row of numbers. Six years of college for this. Another row of numbers, and his leg fidgeted restlessly. His mind kept wandering away from the worksheets in front of him, back to his husband.
He rested his head in his hands for a long moment before he finally rubbed his forehead and sat straighter, saving the document. His stomach rumbled as he finally finished up the last of the paperwork for the night, and as he left the building, it was almost nine.
He was already going through the mental list of things they had in their freezer, preparing himself to eat the four-day-old spaghetti leftovers that San never finished. Either that, or they’d have to be thrown out.
He silently stewed over the thought of other couples eating at expensive restaurants, in quiet atmospheres and romantic lit interiors, while he would have to sit bent over the kitchen counter with microwaved noodles.
When he and Hongjoong first agreed not to do Valentine’s Day, his husband hadn’t seemed that upset at the cancellation.
“Okay,” Hongjoong had said, like it was simple.
“Okay?” Seonghwa asked, feeling guilt weigh him. He felt heavy throughout, knowing he’d stay late at work during the holiday. “I’m sorry, I really am.”
“It's okay,” Hongjoong’s thumb slowly rubbed circles on his wrist before he grabbed his hand. “Yeosang deserves to have a cute, fun date, huh? We’re too old for that, anyway.”
“No, we’re not,” Seonghwa pouted, turning over in bed to rest his cheek against his husband’s chest. “We’re only twenty-seven.”
“Don't feel guilty. We need the extra money,” Hongjoong mumbled softly, “and I’ll take care of the boys while you work late.”
“Okay,” He said, though his disappointment was palpable. He didn't know why Hongjoong wasn't mad or upset with him. He wished his husband felt a little more sad about the loss of the holiday. Seonghwa would never label himself as sappy, but he did love Valentine’s Day. Something about it had always been fun and exciting, the happy couples and buildings covered in hearts and pink and red. He loved the chocolate boxes and the sweet candies produced in fun heart shapes. He loved the chocolate strawberries, heartfelt cards and gifts. It was the one day a year in which people could express their love and not feel embarrassed or hidden by shame.
His guilt over cancelling it had slowly morphed in his chest, and he was aware of what he was feeling now. It turned bitter. He knew it was misdirected, and it was not fair to be upset with Hongjoong, but he was. He felt angry and hurt with his husband for not seeming to care.
He hadn’t mentioned it since they’d cancelled it. He wondered if he would even get flowers, or if calling off the holiday meant calling off the gifts too.
He had a small velvet box that he had in the pocket of his slacks, in it holding small star earrings, silver with diamonds embedded, that he thought his husband would love. He wondered if it was wrong of him to still gift these, as he’d gotten them months in advance, before they cancelled their celebrations.
He was optimistic and hopeful at heart, and part of him wished he’d come home and his husband would have a full bouquet and the chocolate strawberries he knew were his favourite, ones that he’d handmade every year since their second anniversary. He hoped that maybe the house would be clean and there would be a special takeout box in the fridge dedicated to him that Hongjoong had picked up somewhere between work and the kids and home.
He knew this wouldn’t happen, and he tried to rid the hope in his chest as he started the car and let it run, sitting and staring out the dark window at the wall of the parking garage.
He knew that he couldn’t hold onto the anger inside his chest, misdirected and hurtful, but he stewed in it, exhausted.
He would eat, shower, and join Hongjoong in bed when he got home.
He briefly checked his phone to see a couple of Hongjoong’s messages, but he didn’t read them; instead swiping them away. He’d be home soon, anyway. He was sure it was his husband wishing him goodnight.
He sighed, a long breath, before driving home, his thoughts wandering the whole time, the radio on silent and only the sound of the road under the tires present. He thought of tomorrow, waking up and getting the boys ready, and of work and the project he had yet to finish before the twentieth. He thought of Wooyoung’s slipping grades and Yeosang’s problems with the mean girls on his cheerteam. He thought of the day after that, and how he would get San to his dentist when it was midday, and wondered if they had any more rice or if he had to stop at the store.
He thought of the unpaid parking ticket Hongjoong had gotten last weekend, and wondered if he had to buy stamps or if he still had two on a sheet in the drawer of his nightstand.
He thought of a lot, and soon he was home, and the drive passed so quickly, blurred, that he wondered if he stopped at the red lights and if he stayed in the lines the whole time.
He parked outside their small house, turning off the headlights of the car before pulling into the driveway so as not to shine straight into the window of his and Hongjoong’s room, where their blinds were too thin, and they desperately needed to get newer, thicker ones. They’d been putting it off for years, now, ever since they adopted San.
All of the lights in the house were off, which meant everyone was asleep. The blinds were pulled in the kitchen and living room.
He took a breath and tried to steel himself.
He locked the car door behind himself, the air cold and wind biting against his exposed cheeks, a direct contrast to the warmth of his car. He walked up to the front door, his heels aching from the thin soles of his formal work shoes, after delivering papers all day at work.
His keys jingled as he put the key in, but the door was left unlocked. His head pounded in the start of a headache, worry in his chest. He’s told Hongjoong countless times to lock this door before going to sleep. He’d have to speak to him whenever he had a chance. There was a recent break-in a couple of blocks down, he’d overheard from moms at pick-up.
Trying to breathe deeply to stop his ever-growing frustration, he opened the door silently, shutting it behind himself and toeing off his shoes.
He was expecting a quiet that wasn’t there, as his ears strained and he heard classical music coming from somewhere in the house. His eyebrows knit together in confusion as he hung his jacket and noticed the dim lighting coming from down the hall. He hoped it wasn’t Wooyoung up late, and he hoped Hongjoong hadn’t let him have the tablet. His frustration grew again.
He stood by the door for a long moment, long enough to collect his thoughts and push aside these growing feelings, overwhelmed and stressed. Most of all, he felt alone.
At least the house looked clean in the dark, and he held onto that stray string of hope like it was his only chance. The toybox in the living room was closed, and the blanket was folded straight on the back of the couch, and there were vacuum lines on the rug. Perhaps that was Hongjoong’s gift to him, and he felt his muscles slightly loosen. He was still upset, though.
He took steps forward to the kitchen, but stopped abruptly when he realized just where the music and lighting were coming from. The smell hit him first, though. It was warm and comforting, the smell of herbs and meat and vegetables coming from the oven. It layered over the house like a blanket. It immediately made his mouth water, his stomach hungry from a missed dinner earlier.
Candlesticks littered the kitchen and dining table, holding long white candles that were all lit. Seonghwa recognized some from his parents' house that they'd gifted to him and Hongjoong when they first moved in, and some from the antique store down the block where he often took Wooyoung and San during the summer, and he even recognized the ceramic one Yeosang had made when he went on a pottery date with Felix. They were all mismatched, dimly lighting up the kitchen in an antique warm glow, yellow and orange and comfortable. Hongjoong knew Seonghwa well enough that the wax would’ve bothered him after the fact, tacky and dried onto the various surfaces, so he had made especially sure to place them on sticks.
There was a fabric cloth over the dining table that looked suspiciously like the ones they had at their wedding years ago, ones that had been packed away in the garage in totes with care. At the center was a vase Seonghwa hadn’t seen before, in it a dozen or more roses. The candles flickered and bounced off the red petals, across the white canvas of the tablecloth.
Two plates were set up with silverware and napkins, and rose petals were scattered everywhere. The table, the floor, the countertops. He knew once the shock and excitement settled, he would be in disdain over the mess, but he couldn’t care less in the moment. Hongjoong was by the stove, a pan set aside and another in front of him, and he stirred it in smooth measures. In the dim light, his hair seemed extra dark, and he was in a plain white button-up with black slacks. His socked toes peeked out from the end of the legs of his pants.
The countertop held a pink tinsel weight, ten or more balloons tied to it, and swaying against each other. Various words written on them, some with ‘I Love You’, some with ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’. Two gift bags sat next to them, large and glittering red, tissue paper sticking out messily from the tops. White with red hearts printed and wrinkled in folds. Two smaller ones beside it, mismatched, the bags were childish with large graphic prints on them, and fondness struck Seonghwa as he came to the realization that they must be from Wooyoung and San. Two more things sat on the counter: a big chocolate heart that had lace decor, expensive and sleek, and a simple pink box that was about the size of a small cake box.
Suddenly, all of his anger dissolved off of him in waves, and he felt tears poke at his eyes. He didn’t cry often, but with the combination of the sweet surprise and the overwhelming stress finally leaving his muscles caused the wetness behind his lashes, and he blinked hard to try and remove the feeling. The guilt from before returned. He had absolutely no faith in Hongjoong, and here he was, proving him wrong in the best way possible.
“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa finally managed to find his voice after standing there still and struck dumb, his mouth still slightly hanging agape. His hands rested uselessly at his sides as he stared at his husband. His voice was quiet, but still cracked halfway through.
Hongjoong jumped at his voice, and it was obvious he hadn’t noticed his silent entrance until now. The music droned softly on, loud enough to be background noise, but quiet enough not to wake the kids.
“Seonghwa,” He smiled, his teeth perfect as his lips stretched wide. “Welcome home. Happy Valentine’s Day.”
He held a hand over his mouth for a long moment, and he only moved when Hongjoong separated himself from the stovetop to grab his hand in a gentle embrace. Seonghwa allowed himself to be pulled into the kitchen and onto the tile.
He stared at the decorations, now noticing a sign hung up, tape on the corners, and wide, messy lettering read ‘Hapy Valantin’s Day’. Misspelled and messy, red and pink fingerprints and hearts finger-painted onto it. The work of two four-year-old boys he knew well.
Hongjoong caught his attention with a squeeze of his hand, drawing his eyes back to his husband. He looked more hesitant now, but his smile stayed.
“Dinner is almost done,” He said in a soft and sweet voice, patient and gentle and loving, and god Seonghwa loved this man more than life itself. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean up afterwards.” He added with a small laugh. Seonghwa’s smile matched his.
“You got the boys to help you decorate?” He asked because he was at a loss for what else to say. A million things, and he knew a thank you was in order, but instead, he held on tighter to his anchor.
“Yes,” Hongjoong replied, now glancing around to see what Seonghwa was looking at. “They got you gifts, too. But those have to wait until after we eat.”
He pressed a firm kiss to the corner of Seonghwa’s lips before pulling away and leading him over to the stove with their entwined hands. He let go and moved to stir the pan again.
“Hongjoong,” He repeated, and he felt his knees weaken and the tears well up again in his eyes. He felt the guilt over his misdirected anger stronger now, like the waves of an ocean. He realized now that he shouldn’t have expected so much from Hongjoong when he himself was underprepared. He had only a gift for his husband, no decorated house, no chocolates, nothing. Why did he ever expect more from his husband when he himself didn’t even do this? “I thought we cancelled today.”
“We did,” He murmured as he kept his eyes on the stove and lowered the temperature of the burner. “But I wanted to surprise you. You’ve been really stressed recently, Seonghwa. You deserve something nice. Don’t worry, I didn’t expect you to get me anything.”
“I did get you something, but nowhere near this-” He choked as the answer came out.
“It’s okay,” Hongjoong assured, and his hand found his again, and he pulled his husband to stand right behind him, pressing against his back. Seonghwa let his head fall forward, his forehead pushed into his husband’s shoulder. “That’s fine, Seonghwa.”
Seonghwa stayed quiet, his free hand finding his husband’s waist and holding tightly onto him, eyes closed. He breathed in the fresh smell of his conditioner and the deodorant that held tropical and ocean undertones. He felt like he was washed up on an island.
“Move back,” Hongjoong guided gently after a long moment of silence, and he followed him as he took a step back, opening the oven, mitts on as he took out the meal. Seonghwa helped him finish setting the table, and they moved in silence, comfortable but still pressing. It felt suffocating to Seonghwa as he tried his hardest to breathe.
“What’s going on in there?” Hongjoong asked, finally, once the food was on plates and the oven was off, and the candles lit up his face in a weird pattern. Shadows highlighted his nose and cheekbones, yet Seonghwa still found him to be beautiful. He had moved to lean against the counter, and he stood in front of Seonghwa, his finger gently tapping his head.
“I feel guilty,” He said, because now that he was asked, he couldn’t hold back any longer. “I have been so upset over cancelling Valentine’s Day, and you seemed not to care. But now I see that you put in all this effort to still do something nice for me, which I should have done. Instead, I moped, and I felt bad for myself, and I was angry with you. And I haven’t been fair to you at all.”
“You’ve been plenty fair to me,” Hongjoong replied in a soft voice.
“In my head, I haven’t,” Seonghwa admitted. “I’ve been tense and mean and bitter. I’m sorry, Hongjoong. I’m sorry.”
Finally, the tears fell, and he hid his face behind his hands. Hongjoong was quick to stop him from fully hiding, his body pressing close, familiar and warm and comfortable, as he held softly around his waist.
“I’ve been the worst husband,” He mourned softly as he hid in the crook of his neck, his hands shaky as he held onto Hongjoong’s back, and the shirt under him dampened under his tears.
“Shh, no, you haven’t,” Hongjoong assured against his hair, and Seonghwa could feel his smile. “You’re just tired and stressed, sweetie. You need to lean on me more, okay? That’s why we’re married, to help each other.”
Seonghwa took in a short breath at the words, eyes wet as he pressed closer into his safe space. He held him closer and let himself be soothed with gentle hands and careful fingers, rubbing circles onto his hips and lower back.
“It was a miscommunication,” He says in a deep, low voice. “And I wanted to surprise you. Let yourself relax, Seonghwa. Don’t feel guilty, just enjoy it. Should we eat?”
He sighed deeply, pressing his browbone into his husband’s shoulder with force to try and rid the thoughts behind it, whirling around in his head. His temples ached dully. Hongjoong swayed them back and forth to the soft music, quiet and patient as he didn’t push Seonghwa to respond. He knew that the other needed time, often one to think through things instead of being vocal. Hongjoong always joked that San got that from him, and that’s why the kid was nonverbal yet still so inquisitive, and Seonghwa always told him that it wasn’t how it worked, since they adopted him. Hongjoong still smiled and insisted.
“I made your dad’s recipe,” Hongjoong murmured after the silence must have stretched on for minutes. “I called him a couple of days ago after work.”
Seonghwa hummed in response, prompting him to continue as he pressed his cheek into his shoulder, nosing at his husband’s neck, the hair brushing against his face. He let Hongjoong swing them slowly in a gentle dance, his socked feet sliding along the tile as he guided him at a slow pace.
“I hope it turned out good, or at least on par with his. Yunho was very specific about every step.” He laughed softly, leaving lingering kisses on Seonghwa’s neck, wherever he could reach. He must know that Seonghwa needed to hear his voice, level and even, calming all the way down his spine to his toes. Sometimes, to break through the voice in his head, he needed his husband. He was glad he could read him so well. He didn’t even have to vocalize the desperation for a distraction.
“I also figured out Wooyoung’s nightmare situation. He had a secret candy stash under his bed. I took it away and explained it to him, and he cried, but I think he understands now,” He continued to murmur softly against the shell of his ear. He left a small kiss there, too. He laughed in obvious amusement rather than being upset with their son. “So I hope that sorts out everything. I don’t even know how he managed to sneak that much candy into his room. I don’t think San even knew about it, because he seemed just as shocked as I did.”
Seonghwa joined him with a small chuckle, and he took a deep breath before lifting his head. Hongjoong met his gaze easily, eyebrows furrowed in silent concern.
“Well, we should eat before it gets cold,” He says in response. Hongjoong nodded but didn’t let him go before he got a kiss.
They sat across from each other, and Hongjoong moved the vase aside to be able to see him more clearly, a shy look on his face at the large roses. The tablecloth moved slightly with the movement, and Seonghwa let out a small yelp as he caught a wobbling candlestick before it fell. Their eyes caught, and they laughed and laughed as Hongjoong sat and adjusted the collar of his shirt.
“Here,” Hongjoong reached across to grab Seonghwa’s plate, setting it in front of himself, and started to cut the steak into smaller pieces. Despite the years of being married, Seonghwa blushed like they were in high school again, biting down on his tongue at the sweet gesture.
“How was your day?” He asked as he cut it evenly, with precise and measured movements.
“Bad,” Seonghwa admitted, “A new hire messed up over twenty pages of work, and the meeting today with my boss was horrible as I forgot my file on my nightstand.” As he ranted, his hand came to press into his temple, rubbing at it in frustration. “I didn’t even finish all of what I was supposed to tonight, so I’ll have a bigger workload this weekend.”
Hongjoong passed the plate back to him with concern in his eyes, a pout on his soft lips.
“But it’s better now. A lot,” Seonghwa said, a breath leaving his lips. “Thank you for doing all of this, Hongjoong.”
He smiled, though his concern was still palpable in the air.
“Don’t thank me,” He assured.
“How was your day?” Seonghwa asked. “You and the boys.”
“Well, I helped Yeosang this morning make chocolate strawberries before school for Felix,” He said. “He’s still shy, it’s cute. It reminds me a lot of us back then. He’s out right now, but he knows his curfew, so he shouldn’t be long now.”
Seonghwa shared his smile. At the mention of chocolate strawberries, he remembered the box on the counter and hoped there was more, dedicated to him.
“Wooyoung and San’s class had a party today, so I made sure to put their candy up high so Wooyoung wouldn’t sneak any more. Wooyoung’s teacher said he’s doing better with his alphabet, too.”
He continued to cut his own steak, but motioned for Seonghwa to try his. He did, and the flavor burst on his tongue, salty and savory and juicy. He made a soft noise of content, nodding his head at Hongjoong. He smiled and continued.
“I finished a meeting today with that company we’re working with. Everything went smoothly, so work should be less busy for the next couple of weeks.” And this alone assured Seonghwa’s worries over their packed schedules. He felt himself relax more, his chest loosen. He ate another bite.
“San has a dentist appointment tomorrow, or the next day. I’ll have to check my calendar,” Seonghwa remembered as he went to grab his phone from his pocket.
“No- no phones. We can check later, don’t worry,” Hongjoong scolded him in a gentle tone. “Don’t think about it, at least for the rest of tonight. I’ll leave work and take San, whatever day it is.”
“I love you,” Seonghwa said in a sigh, and Hongjoong smiled wider.
“I love you, too,” He replied easily, but the words still held meaning, deep and unfaltering. A promise.
As he sat at this table across from his husband, it definitely wasn’t a fancy restaurant, but it meant more than anywhere else would have. He was in his house, his home, with his kids only doors down asleep, and his husband across from him, glowing in the warm candlelight. His stomach was warm with home-cooked food and butterflies. He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now.
The gift bags were mismatched, the candlesticks were mismatched, and he and Hongjoong were mismatched. But they fit together despite it all, and they made a family. Their strengths outweighed each other’s flaws. They held each other up.
He wiped at his damp cheeks and was thankful for the millionth time that he had married this man. Mismatch and all.