Archive of Our Own

"Does Mr. Yoon have a girlfriend? Mommy wants to know!"

Jeonghan freezes mid-wipe, the damp cloth hovering over a particularly stubborn smear of blue paint. The question lands in the quiet of the emptying classroom like a brick.

He blinks at the words that just tumbled out of little Seungkwan's mouth.

The boy is tugging insistently at the hem of Jeonghan's yellow apron, embroidered with sunflowers. Seungkwan's round face tilts upward, eyes wide and earnest, blissfully unaware of the social landmine he's just detonated in the middle of the classroom.

A few feet behind him, Mrs. Boo lets out a shriek that sounds like a strangled cat. Her face flushes the color of a ripe tomato within seconds, red creeping up from her neck. She's already scrambling forward, hands fluttering in the air like startled birds trying to take flight.

"Seungkwan-ah! You can't just— oh my god, I'm so sorry, Mr. Yoon, I never— he must have overheard me talking to my sister on the phone yesterday and I didn't think he was paying attention but you know how kids are, they hear everything, absorb everything like little sponges and I swear I wasn't trying to pry into your personal life—"

She folds herself nearly in half with how deeply she bows, apologies spilling from her lips faster than Jeonghan can possibly process them, the words running together in an increasingly frantic stream.

Jeonghan fights the urge to laugh. He really does. But the giggles bubble up from his chest anyway, escaping through his nose as a poorly suppressed snort. He waves away her embarrassment with his free hand.

"Mrs. Boo, please, it's fine," he assures her gently, setting the cloth down on the table. "Really. Kids say the weirdest things sometimes. It keeps life interesting. Don't worry about it at all."

"Hey! I'm not weird!" Seungkwan protests immediately, his little face scrunching up indignantly, eyebrows drawing together in the most adorable scowl Jeonghan has ever seen.

Mrs. Boo straightens slowly, still looking like she wants the earth to crack open and swallow her whole, but she nods weakly. Seungkwan, however, remains completely unrepentant, still staring up at Jeonghan with those big, expectant eyes. His little hands are still fisted in the fabric of Jeonghan's apron.

Jeonghan crouches down to the boy's level, his old man knees protesting slightly at the movement despite being in his late twenties. He rests his hands on his thighs, bringing himself eye-to-eye with the tiny interrogator.

"To answer your very important question, Seungkwannie," he begins in that sing-song lilt he uses when he's being playful, "no, I don't have a girlfriend."

Seungkwan's face falls immediately, his expression crumpling like someone's just told him Santa isn't real. His little shoulders sag with genuine disappointment and his bottom lip juts out in a small pout.

Jeonghan bites back another laugh, pressing his lips together.

"But," he continues, watching as the boy's head snaps back up, "I am married."

The words hit everyone instantaneously. Seungkwan's eyes grow impossibly rounder, his mouth forms a perfect little 'o' of surprise. Behind him, Mrs. Boo gasps, this time clearly more shocked than mortified, her hand flying up to cover her mouth.

"Married?" Seungkwan echoes, his voice dropping to an awed whisper.

"Mhm," Jeonghan hums, reaching out to ruffle the boy's hair affectionately, careful not to get any lingering paint from his hands into that hair. Mrs. Boo looks stressed enough already. "Does that answer your question?"

Seungkwan's eyebrows draw together in deep concentration, his small face scrunching up as he thinks hard.

"Hm... but Seungkwannie has never seen her before! Not once! Is Mr. Yoon lying again? Like when you said your favorite color was clear?"

Jeonghan gasps dramatically, pressing a hand over his heart. "Oh? Seungkwannie dares to suspect his favorite teacher? After everything we've been through together?"

He doesn't wait for a response before lunging forward, his fingers finding the troublemaker's ticklish spots and tickles him.

Seungkwan dissolves into laughter immediately. He squirms and wriggles like a fish, trying desperately to bat Jeonghan's hands away with his much smaller ones.

"Nooo, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I take it back! Eomma, help! He's attacking me! C-call the police!"

Mrs. Boo watches the exchange with a mixture of lingering embarrassment and reluctant fondness. She makes no move whatsoever to rescue her son from his beloved teacher's tickle attack.

When Jeonghan finally relents, pulling his hands back and sitting back on his heels, Seungkwan is flushed and breathless, still giggling as he stumbles back toward his mother on unsteady legs.

Jeonghan straightens up with a silent groan and brushes imaginary dust off his apron. His knees really aren't what they used to be. He offers Ms. Boo a reassuring smile.

"Really, it's no trouble at all," he says, his voice gentle. "Kids are naturally curious. It's healthy that he feels comfortable asking questions, even if they're a bit... forward sometimes."

Mrs. Boo nods, though she still looks seconds away from spontaneously combusting on the spot, her face still slightly flush. "Thank you for being so understanding, Mr. Yoon. We'll... we'll get out of your hair now. Come on, Seungkwan-ah, say goodbye to Mr. Yoon."

"Bye, Mr. Yoon!" Seungkwan chirps, the tickling offense already forgotten, waving enthusiastically as his mother practically drags him toward the door.

Jeonghan waves them off, watching as they disappear into the hallway beyond the classroom door. The moment the door swings shut with a soft click, he lets out a long exhale that seems to deflate his entire body. He returns to wiping down the tables. But he doesn't have to look up to know that Seungcheol and Wonwoo are watching him. He can feel their eyes boring into the back of his head, their curiosity radiating across the room like heat.

Sure enough, when he finally gives in and glances over his shoulder, both of them are standing near the reading nook, barely even pretending to organize the picture books anymore. Their expressions are carefully neutral which means their nosy asses are dying to ask questions.

Jeonghan sighs and returns to his cleaning. He has a feeling this conversation is far from over.

"I don't believe him." Seungkwan announces.

He's planted himself cross-legged on the foam mat in the play corner, little hands planted firmly on his knees, his expression deadly serious. The afternoon sunlight streams through the windows behind him, making the whole scene look cinematic.

Across from him, Hansol tilts his head slowly, blinking with a perpetually sleepy expression he always wears, like he's just woken up from a nap. "Why not?"

"Because we've never seen her before!" Seungkwan insists, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Not even once! He has to be lying! You know Mr. Yoon loves pranking us. Remember the April Fools thing?"

From his spot beside Hansol, Chan nods so vigorously his whole upper body sways with the motion. "Yeah! Remember when he told me my shoes were on the wrong feet and I walked around backwards all morning?"

"See?" Seungkwan jabs a finger in Chan's direction triumphantly. "He's a prankster! We can't trust anything he says! Adults lie all the time!"

Hansol considers this seriously, his small face scrunching up in thought. "But why would he lie about being married? That's a weird thing to lie about."

"Because it's funny to him!" Seungkwan declares confidently. "Adults are weird like that. They think lying is funny. Or maybe..." he pauses, "it's just Mr. Yoon who's weird. Yeah." That seems more likely.

Chan gasps like he's just had the most brilliant revelation of his five years of life. "Maybe she's invisible! Like in that movie with the invisible man! She could be here right now and we just can't see her!"

"That's stupid," Seungkwan says flatly, though he genuinely considers the possibility for a second, his head tilting thoughtfully. "No, wait. No, that is stupid. We need to investigate properly. We need... e-vi-dence." He sounds out the word carefully. He heard it on one of those crime shows his older sisters watch, must be important.

Hansol perks up slightly, straightening from his usual slouch. "Like Sherlock Holmes?"

"Exactly like Sherlock Holmes!" Seungkwan's face lights up. He leans forward, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "We need to get to the bottom of this mystery! I declare this Operation: Is Mr. Yoon Actually Married? a go!"

He thrusts one chubby hand into the center of their little circle. Hansol and Chan don't hesitate for even a second, stacking their hands on top of his with equally serious expressions.

Together, they throw their arms up toward the ceiling and cheer in unison, "Fighting!"

The sudden outburst draws immediate attention from across the room. Seungcheol glances over from where he's stationed near the art supplies, one eyebrow raised in both amusement and slight concerned. Wonwoo barely suppresses a smile behind his hand.

"What do you think they're plotting now?" Wonwoo muses quietly, watching as the trio immediately hunches back together, their heads nearly touching as they whisper with renewed intensity.

"Nothing good, probably," Seungcheol replies, though there's no real concern in his tone. He's too busy wrestling a toy car out of Soonyoung's mouth for the third time this hour, his fingers prying open the boy's jaw. The kid has an alarming, and honestly concerning, habit of trying to taste-test everything in the classroom, from toys to pieces of furniture.

"Soonyoung, we've talked about this. Cars are not food. But speaking of Mr. Yoon..."

He finally succeeds in liberating the now thoroughly slobbery car from Soonyoung's grip. The boy immediately bursts into tears, his face crumpling, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he wails about how tigers can eat whatever they want and Mr. Choi is such a big meanie.

Wonwoo hums in acknowledgment, his attention still half on the mini conspiracy forming in the corner of the room. He reaches over to pat Soonyoung's back consolingly, rubbing small circles between his shoulder blades until the tears subside into little sniffles.

"They've got a point, though," Seungcheol continues once Soonyoung has been pacified with a different toy, a soft stuffed tiger that he immediately starts gnawing on. His teething habit is still a work in progress.

"Mr. Yoon says he's married, acts like he's married, but he never actually talks about his wife. It's weird, right? If I was married I'll be talking about her twenty-four seven."

"But he's always on his phone during breaks," Wonwoo counters thoughtfully, pulling a tissue from the box on the shelf to wipe Soonyoung's tear-stained face. "Texting someone and smiling at the screen. That has to mean something, doesn't it? People don't just smile at their phones for no reason."

Seungcheol snorts, wadding up the slobber-covered tissue and tossing it toward the trash bin. It bounces off the rim and falls to the floor. He sighs. "Or he's really into mobile games. Candy Crush… Wordle… I don't know. I smile at my phone when I beat a hard level."

Wonwoo shoots him an unimpressed look, his eyes narrowing. "You don't smile at Candy Crush the way Mr. Yoon smiles at his phone, Mr. Choi. There's a difference between 'I just won a game' smiling and 'I'm texting someone I love' smiling."

"How can you even tell the difference?"

"I have eyes, Mr. Choi."

They lapse into silence, both of them watching Jeonghan across the room now. He's crouched beside the craft table, helping Seokmin organize the colored pencils back into their proper slots in the rainbow order they're supposed to be in. Seokmin keeps trying to put green in the blue section and Jeonghan gently redirects him with endless patience.

His phone buzzes on the nearby shelf, the sound barely audible over the ambient noise of the classroom. Jeonghan's gaze flickers toward it immediately, almost involuntarily.

His eyes find the screen, and for a split second, the corner of his mouth twitches upward in a tiny, private smile before he schools his expression back to neutral and turns his attention back to Seokmin.

Seungcheol and Wonwoo exchange a long, pointed look across the room. Very suspicious indeed.

"Alright," Seungcheol says decisively, crossing his arms over his chest and straightening his back. "First one to find out who Mr. Yoon's mysterious wife actually is gets free dinner and drinks."

"Bold of you to assume she even exists in the first place," Wonwoo points out, but there's a definite glint of curiosity in his eyes that betrays his skepticism, a little spark of interest that wasn't there before.

Seungcheol grins, sharp and competitive. "Exactly. That's what makes it interesting."

"I'm hungry," Soonyoung whines, tugging on Seungcheol's pants. "Can we have snacks now? Please? Pleaseee?"

"It's not snack time yet, Soonyoung-ah. Another hour."

"But I'll die before then!"

"You'll survive."

Operation "Is Mr. Yoon Actually Married" kicks off in earnest the very next day.

Seungkwan appoints himself the de-facto leader of their investigative team, which surprises no one. Hansol and Chan are more than happy to fall into their roles as loyal subordinates.

Their first order of business: surveillance. They need to observe Mr. Yoon's behavior, look for clues, find evidence of this supposed wife.

During free play the next morning, the trio stations themselves strategically around the classroom, spreading out to cover maximum ground while keeping Jeonghan in their collective line of sight at all times.

Seungkwan crouches behind a precariously tall tower of building blocks near the window, the structure wobbling dangerously every time he shifts his weight. He peers through a carefully constructed gap like a spy in a low-budget action movie, his eyes laser-focused on the target.

Hansol sprawls on his stomach near the bookshelf, his body stretched out flat against the foam mat. He's pretending to read a picture book about dinosaurs while actually watching Jeonghan over the top of the colorful pages, his eyes tracking every movement.

Chan, blessed with an innocent baby face that could get away with murder, simply plops himself down at the art table directly in front of Jeonghan. He doesn't even bother with subtlety. He just stares, wide-eyed and unblinking, weaponizing his baby charm.

Mr. Yoon seems utterly oblivious to the elaborate surveillance unfolding around him. Or maybe he's just ignoring them. It's genuinely hard to tell with him sometimes. He goes about his morning routine like normal, helping kids with their activities, wiping runny noses, breaking up minor disputes over toys, completely unfazed by the trio's strange behavior.

"Anything yet?" Seungkwan hisses, army-crawling across the foam mat toward Hansol's position with all the stealth of a stampeding elephant.

Hansol shakes his head slowly without looking away from his surveillance post. "Nope. Just helping Mingyu color inside the lines. Boring. Nothing suspicious."

Seungkwan huffs in frustration, his cheeks puffing out like an indignant chipmunk. "This is way harder than I thought it would be. How do real detectives do this all day? It's so boring!"

"Patience?" Hansol suggests mildly, turning a page in his dinosaur book for show.

"Patience is stupid."

Their investigation yields absolutely nothing over the next three days. It's frustrating. Jeonghan doesn't slip up even once. It's driving them absolutely crazy.

But then, on the fourth day, Seungkwan has a breakthrough.

He's sitting at the lunch table, shoveling rice into his mouth with single-minded focus, when the realisation hits him like lightning.

"Wait," he announces suddenly through a mouthful of rice that makes his words barely intelligible, little grains spilling out the corners of his mouth. "If Mr. Yoon is married like he claims, he has to have a wedding ring, right? That's what married people have!"

Hansol's eyes widen with sudden understanding, his chopsticks freezing halfway to his mouth. "Oh, you're right! Eomma's ring is really shiny!"

"Exactly!" Seungkwan swallows his rice with a gulp. "We need to check Mr. Yoon's hands! If there's no ring, then he's definitely lying!"

Chan nods eagerly, already fully on board with this new direction of investigation.

The ring investigation proves significantly trickier than anticipated. Jeonghan's hands are constantly in motion throughout the day. Wiping down tables, organizing art supplies, tying shoelaces... Getting a clear, unobstructed look at his fingers without being completely obvious about it is nearly impossible. Unless you're Chan.

During afternoon snack time Chan deliberately knock over his juice box so the apple juice spills across the table. Jeonghan appears beside him within seconds, cloth already in hand, chiding him about being more careful.

While Jeonghan's crouched beside him, mopping up the sticky mess, Chan reaches out and grabs his hand with both of his smaller ones.

"Mr. Yoon, your hands are so big!" he says with wide-eyed innocence, holding Jeonghan's hand up. He turns it over, studying the palm. "Look how much bigger than mine!"

Jeonghan laughs, the sound warm and fond, and gently extracts his hand to finish wiping up the spill. "All grown-ups have bigger hands than you kids, Chan-ah. That's how it works. You'll have big hands too someday when you're older."

Chan reports back to the group afterward with disappointing news, his small face scrunched up in a frown. "No ring. I checked both hands really carefully. Nothing!"

"Are you absolutely sure?" Seungkwan demands. "You're one hundred percent positive?"

"Yup. There was definitely no ring."

Seungkwan's face falls, his shoulders sagging with defeat. "So he really is lying to us..."

"Maybe he lost it?" Hansol offers weakly.

"Or," Chan says dramatically, drawing the word out, "maybe he keeps it somewhere secret! Like in a treasure chest! Or buried in the backyard!"

Seungkwan perks up at this, hope rekindling in his chest. "Or around his neck! My samchon keeps his ring on a chain because he works with big machines at his job!"

They all turn to look at Jeonghan across the room in unison. He's wearing his usual work outfit, a soft cream cardigan with an apron, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The collar of his cardigan is visible, but there's no chain. If he is wearing a necklace, it's hidden completely under his clothes.

"We need to investigate more," Seungkwan declares with renewed determination, his jaw setting stubbornly. "This mystery isn't solved yet!"

The teachers aren't faring much better in their own unofficial investigation, despite being the adults.

Seungcheol tries a direct approach one afternoon, leaning casually against the doorframe of the small teacher's break room where Jeonghan is microwaving his lunch. It's a convenience store pasta dish this time, which Seungcheol notes, kinda strange. Usually he brings lunch from home in a cute lunchbox. The microwave hums, filling the tiny space with the smell of tomato sauce and cheese.

"So," Seungcheol starts, attempting to sound nonchalant but actually painfully transparent, "you're married, huh? That's nice."

Jeonghan doesn't even look up from his phone, where he's scrolling through something with a same small, private smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Yep."

"Cool, cool." Seungcheol shifts his weight, trying to peer at Jeonghan's phone screen without being completely obvious about it. Jeonghan, consciously or not, tilts his phone away slightly, blocking the view. "So... what is she like? Your wife?"

"Hmm?" Jeonghan finally glances up, his expression perfectly neutral, giving away nothing. "What's who like?"

"Your wife," Seungcheol clarifies, sighing internally at Jeonghan's deliberate obtuseness. "You know, the person you're married to? Your better half?"

"Oh." Jeonghan's lips twitch upward, like he's suppressing a smile. "They're nice."

Seungcheol waits for more elaboration. Jeonghan doesn't continue, just goes back to his phone. Conversation over.

The microwave beeps shrilly. Jeonghan retrieves his steaming pasta, still wearing that infuriating smile that makes Seungcheol want to shake the answers out of him.

"Right," Seungcheol says slowly, dragging the word out. "Just... nice. Very descriptive. Really painting a clear picture here, Mr. Yoon."

"I thought so too," Jeonghan says pleasantly, grabbing a plastic fork from the drawer.

"And does this person have a name…?"

Jeonghan hums thoughtfully, stirring his pasta and watching the steam rise. "Of course they have a name. Everyone has a name. Anyway, I should get back to the classroom. Break time's almost over. See you later, Mr. Choi!"

And just like that, he's gone, slipping past Seungcheol in the doorway and disappearing down the hall with his lunch, leaving Seungcheol standing alone in the break room feeling thoroughly played.

Wonwoo tries a more subtle approach later that week. He waits until they're both on dismissal duty, waving goodbye to the final straggling parents and their sleepy children before broaching the subject.

The classroom is quiet now, peaceful now that the children are gone.

"You know," Wonwoo says casually, stacking small chairs upside-down on tables, "if you ever wanted to bring your wife around to meet everyone, we'd all love that. The kids are so curious about her. It's actually really sweet how invested they've gotten."

Jeonghan laughs, warm and genuine, lifting another chair. "I know they are. I heard Seungkwan and his investigation team whispering about wedding rings the other day. It's adorable."

"So... is that a possibility? Meeting her sometime, I mean?" Wonwoo presses gently, sensing what might be an opening.

Jeonghan hums thoughtfully, actually seeming to consider the question as he stacks another chair. His head tilts to one side, eyes distant. "Maybe someday. They're pretty busy with work right now."

"What does she do?" Wonwoo asks immediately, trying to keep his tone conversational than interrogative. "For work?"

"Ah, you know..." Jeonghan trails off vaguely, waving one hand in the air like he's physically brushing away the question. "Stuff. Travels alot so I'm not really sure if they'll have time to swing by."

Wonwoo waits for more details. Jeonghan just smiles and continues stacking chairs, now humming a melody quietly to himself that Wonwoo vaguely recognizes as a viral kpop song.

Wonwoo gives up.

Later, when he reports back to Seungcheol, they're both forced to admit a frustrating defeat.

"He's really good at this," Seungcheol grumbles begrudgingly, slumping in his chair. "I'll give him that much. Doesn't give away a single thing. Not one detail. It's honestly impressive."

"Too good," Wonwoo agrees, tapping his pen against his chin thoughtfully. "It's actually suspicious how good he is at deflecting questions. Makes you wonder what he's hiding…"

"You think he's actually lying about being married?"

"I think," Wonwoo says carefully, choosing his words, "that he's definitely hiding something. Whether that something is a wife or the fact that there is no wife... I can't tell."

They exchange meaningful looks across the small teacher's lounge table.

"We could just ask him outright," Seungcheol suggests, but he already knows what the answer will be.

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Fair point. Plus he'd probably just deflect again anyway."

Meanwhile, across the school, the children's investigation continues with no success.

Seungkwan grows increasingly convinced with each passing day that Mr. Yoon is either outright lying or his wife is some kind of secret agent.

Hansol is starting to lose interest in the whole operation in favor of the new set of toy trucks that appeared in the play area, shiny and red, far more cooler than an unsolvable mystery

Chan is mostly just along for the ride at this point, happy to be included in whatever Seungkwan is planning.

But then something happens that reignites the entire investigation.

It's during circle time one morning, while Jeonghan is reading them a story about a family of rabbits who go on an adventure to find their lost carrot garden. His voice does all the different character voices, high-pitched for the baby rabbit, gruff for the papa rabbit. The kids are enthralled, hanging on every word.

His phone slides out of his cardigan pocket without him noticing. It hits the foam mat with a soft thud, landing face-up, and the lock screen is visible for exactly three seconds before Jeonghan notices and snatches it back up.

Three seconds is all Seungkwan needs.

Seungkwan, who also happens to be the kid sitting closest to where the phone fell, sees the photo on the screen clearly: Mr. Yoon, but younger (Maybe high school age?), standing next to another person. They're both smiling at the camera, the other person's arm slung casually around Mr. Yoon's shoulders. They're standing in front of what looks like a sunset, oranges and deep pinks painting the sky behind them.

"Who's that?" Seungkwan asks eagerly, leaning forward so far he nearly topples over onto his stomach. His eyes are bright with renewed interest.

Jeonghan slips the phone back into his pocket smoothly, but not before Seungkwan catches the way his expression turns into one of infatuation, a look Seungkwan has never seen on his teacher's face before. But it's the same look Seungkwan's eomma gets when she looks at old photos of her and appa from before Seungkwan was born.

"Hmm? Who is who?" Jeonghan asks, his voice innocent.

"On your phone! The picture! The person with you!"

"Oh." Jeonghan's smile widens, becoming something genuinely warm. "That's just someone very, very special to me. Someone important."

"Is it your wife?" Seungkwan pipes up hopefully.

Jeonghan's smile turns mysterious. "Where were we in the story? Oh yes, the rabbits were about to discover the hidden garden behind the big oak tree..."

He smoothly redirects them back to the story, his voice slipping back into narrator mode, but Seungkwan makes a mental note to report this crucial new information to the rest of the team during snack time.

Mr. Yoon definitely looked happy in that photo. Happy in love.

E-vi-dence. Real, actual evidence.

By the end of two full weeks, both the kids and the teachers are forced to arrive at the same reluctant, disappointing conclusion: Mr. Yoon's mysterious wife probably doesn't actually exist, or if she does, shes might as well be a ghost for they know.

Seungkwan takes the defeat particularly hard.

"I hate this," he grumbles during free play, slumping dramatically against Hansol's shoulder like his entire body has given up on life.

Chan pats his head sympathetically, his small hand gentle in Seungkwan's hair. "It's okay, Seungkwan-ah. We tried our best. We worked really hard. That's what matters most, right? That we tried?"

Hansol, ever the pragmatist of their group, shrugs his small shoulders. "Maybe she's just really, really shy. Some people don't like being around lots of other people. My cousin is like that. She hides when people visit."

Seungkwan perks up slightly at this possibility, hope flickering in his chest. "You really think so?"

"Or," Hansol says slowly, "maybe she's a spy for the government and if her identity gets revealed to the public, the FBI will come and take her away to spy jail forever."

Seungkwan's eyes go impossibly wide, his previous dejection completely forgotten in the face of this new theory. His spine straightens. "Whoa. That would be so cool! Mr. Yoon's wife is a secret agent spy!"

"We don't actually know that for sure," Chan points out reasonably, ever the voice of logic in their group.

"But we don't know she's not a spy either," Seungkwan counters with logic that makes perfect sense to six-year-olds. "Which means she could be. It's possible."

The investigation seemingly dies there, its file closed and tucked away in the archives of unsolved kindergarten mysteries next to "where does Soonyoung hide all the snacks he steals from the snack cupboard".

That is, until what happens the following Tuesday afternoon.

It's playtime, and the classroom is in its usual chaos. Blocks clatter to the floor, someone knocks over a cup of crayons in the art section, sending them rolling in every direction, and high-pitched laughter echoes off the walls as a game of tag breaks out near the reading nook. Just another day of Pledis Kindergarten.

Jeonghan is stationed at the craft table, sitting on one of the small chairs that's comically too small for his adult frame. He shifts uncomfortably, praying he doesn't fall.

He's helping Jihoon glue popsicle sticks together into a house…? Thing? Honestly, Jeonghan has no clue. It's genuinely hard to tell with Jihoon's artistic vision, which leans toward the abstract side.

His fingers are slightly sticky with dried glue that he hasn't bothered washing off yet, and there's a smear of green paint on his cardigan sleeve that he's definitely not looking forward to trying to wash out later. Paint stains are eternal.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, vibrating against his thigh.

He wipes his hands on a damp paper towel and fishes the device out absently, expecting a notification from the parent group chat or maybe a reminder about the staff meeting scheduled for later this week.

His heart does a little flip seeing the name on his screen.

joshuji [12:45 PM]: I'm outside. forgetting something?

Jeonghan frowns at the message, confused for a moment. His brain runs through possibilities. His wallet? No, it's definitely in his back pocket. His water bottle? No, he left that in the teacher's lounge. His jacket? No, it's hanging on his cubby hook. What could he possibly have forgotten?

And then it hits him like a truck.

His lunch box.

The one Joshua woke up early to pack for him this morning.

Joshua had come home late last night from the tour's stop in Busan, exhausted and jet-lagged but refusing to go to bed until he'd seen Jeonghan.

They'd stayed up far too late just talking, catching up on weeks' worth of conversations they couldn't have over the phone. And then this morning, despite probably getting less than four hours of sleep, Joshua had insisted on making lunch.

Jeonghan had tried to talk him out of it, insisted that he was tired and should rest, that convenience store food would be fine for one more day. But Joshua had been adamant, saying he missed doing normal domestic things like packing his husband's lunch.

And Jeonghan had left it sitting on the kitchen counter in a rush.

Fuck. He's the worst husband in the world.

hannie [12:45 PM]: omg you're a lifesaver ily

hannie [12:46 PM]: give me 2 min

He pockets his phone and glances around the classroom, doing a quick mental headcount and safety check. Seungcheol is supervising the block area, crouched down to help resolve an intense dispute between Mingyu and Seokmin over who gets to use the red blocks. Wonwoo is settled comfortably in the reading nook, a small cluster of kids gathered around him in a semicircle.

Everything seems stable and under control. The classroom won't descend into Lord of the Flies havoc if he steps out for two minutes, right?

"I'll be right back," Jeonghan announces to the room at large, already reaching behind himself to untie the strings of his apron. "Just need to grab something from outside real quick. Won't be long."

Seungcheol waves him off without looking up from the block situation.

"Take your time. We've got everything covered here."

Jeonghan slips out of the classroom, his heart already beating faster at the knowledge that Joshua is nearby, just beyond the front doors. He hasn't seen him in person in weeks. The tour schedule has been absolutely brutal, packed with back-to-back concerts and promotional appearances. Their communication was reduced to late-night video calls when Joshua is collapsed in his hotel room, still in stage makeup and too exhausted to form complete sentences, and increasingly sporadic text messages as the tour demands more and more of his time and energy.

Jeonghan's halfway down the hallway, his shoes squeaking softly against the floor, when he hears something behind him that makes his steps falter. Soft patters of footsteps and whisper-shouting.

He stops in his tracks, closing his eyes and sighing. He turns slowly, already knowing what he's going to see.

Three guilty faces stare back at him from around the corner, partially hidden behind a large potted plant that does nothing to conceal them. If anything, it makes them more obvious.

"Seungkwan. Hansol. Chan." Jeonghan crosses his arms over his chest, channeling every ounce of his serious teacher voice that he reserves for when the kids are doing something actually dangerous rather than just mildly annoying. "What are you three doing out here? You're supposed to be inside the classroom with Mr. Choi and Mr. Jeon, not wandering the hallways."

"We... um..." Seungkwan flounders, his eyes darting to his co-conspirators for backup.

"We wanted to see where you were going," Chan blurts out immediately, folding like a house of cards under the pressure of Jeonghan's gaze. Hansol nods in agreement. Honesty is the best policy.

Jeonghan sighs, long and weary, shaking his head. "You can't just follow me around like little ducklings, you know. It's not safe to leave the classroom without permission. What if something happened? Go back inside right now."

"But Mr. Yoon—" Seungkwan starts to protest, his little face scrunching up.

"Inside," Jeonghan repeats, firmer this time. "Right now. Before I have to go get Mr. Choi and tell him you three snuck out when you were supposed to be playing and there will be time-out."

The three of them exchange a weird silent communication. And then, in a move that Jeonghan absolutely does not see coming in his years of teaching, they dart past him in a blur of small bodies and pounding feet, sprinting toward the main entrance like their lives depend on it. Those rascals!

"Hey! Wait— stop right now!" Jeonghan takes off after them, his longer adult legs catching up easily. But they're motivated by the thrill of the chase and they're fast. God, Jeonghan really needs to take up Joshua's invitation to go running. They've already skidded to a stop near the front doors by the time he catches up.

And standing just outside, visible through the frosted glass panels, is a figure that makes Jeonghan's heart soar.

Joshua.

He looks like he's about to commit a crime. Black beanie pulled low over his forehead, dark sunglasses obscuring half his face and a black mask covering everything from his nose down to his chin. Not only that he's dressed in all black, black hoodie, black jeans, black sneakers. The only splash of color in his entire outfit is the lunch box he's holding in both hands, pale blue with little white clouds painted on the lid.

The kids take one collective look at this extremely suspicious individual lurking outside their school and immediately leap into protective mode without hesitation.

"Mr. Yoon!" Seungkwan yelps, spreading his arms wide like a tiny shield. His small body plants itself firmly between Jeonghan and the door, between his teacher and this potential threat. "Stay back! Don't go near him! Stranger danger!"

Hansol nods with complete seriousness, his face grave, and steps in front of Seungkwan to form a second line of defense. "Mr. Choi taught us about this exact situation! We never, ever take things from strangers! Not candy, not toys, not anything!"

Chan looks genuinely distressed, his eyes wide and shiny like he might start crying. His small hands ball into determined fists at his sides. "We'll protect you, Mr. Yoon! Don't worry! We won't let him hurt you!"

Jeonghan freezes completely, his brain short-circuiting. He's torn between complete exasperation at the situation spiraling out of control and the overwhelming urge to laugh at the sheer absurdity and sweetness of it all. These tiny humans are trying to protect him. From his own husband.

Through the glass, Joshua looks equally baffled. His head tilts to the side like a confused puppy which Jeonghan coos at internally, and Jeonghan can tell even through all the layers of disguise that he has absolutely no idea what to make of the three small bodyguards standing between him and his husband.

"Guys," Jeonghan starts, holding up both hands in a placating gesture, trying to project calm. "It's really okay. I promise. This isn't a stranger—"

"You can't trust him, Mr. Yoon!" Seungkwan interrupts. He points an accusatory finger at Joshua through the glass, his small face fierce. "You! Bad man! Go away! Leave our teacher alone! Shoo!"

Joshua's shoulders are shaking. He's probably biting his lip behind that mask, dying inside.

Jeonghan steps forward carefully, gently herding the three protectors back a few steps with, guiding them away from the door.

"Seungkwan, Hansol, Chan, please listen to me carefully. I really appreciate you trying to keep me safe. You're all being very brave and it's very sweet. But you're also being rude to someone who's very, very important to me. So I need you all to apologize to him."

"But he looks scary—" Seungkwan protests.

"Apologize," Jeonghan repeats, softening his tone while keeping it firm. "He's not a scary person. I promise you, I would never lie about something this important. Have I ever lied to you about important things before?"

The three of them exchange uncertain glances, clearly conflicted, waging an internal war between their protective instincts and their trust in Mr. Yoon. Reluctantly, they mumble overlapping apologies.

Joshua pushes the door open slowly, like he's approaching skittish animals that might bolt at any sudden movement. The kids immediately tense up again, preparing for fight or flight. But then Joshua reaches up with one hand and tugs off his sunglasses first, revealing warm brown eyes that crinkle at the corners. Then the mask comes off, hanging around his neck, revealing a soft, gentle smile. Finally, the beanie is removed, and his dark hair falls across his forehead, slightly mussed from being confined under the fabric.

The kids' jaws drop in unison.

The suspicious bad man is beautiful. He looks like he stepped directly out of a fairytale, a charming prince from a faraway kingdom.

"Hi there," Joshua says, his voice friendly and sweet like honey. He crouches down to their eye level to make himself smaller and less intimidating.

"I'm really sorry for scaring you guys. I didn't mean to look so suspicious. Sometimes I forget how crazy I must look when I'm trying not to be recognized in public."

Seungkwan is still staring, speechless for possibly the first time in his entire six years of life. Chan looks like he's completely forgotten how to blink, his eyes wide as dinner plates. Hansol, for his part, seems to be processing this new information quicker than his peers, his head tilting thoughtfully.

Joshua's hand reaches out and finds Jeonghan's naturally, their fingers interlacing and sliding together with the practiced ease of two people who've done this exact movement thousands of times before. It's simply muscle memory, the way their hands always find each other. Joshua's thumb brushes over Jeonghan's knuckles, a small, unconscious gesture of affection.

The simple touch speaks volumes to the trio about who this person is to Mr. Yoon.

"I'm Joshua," he says, glancing up at Jeonghan with eyes full of adoration before looking back at the wide-eyed children. He squeezes Jeonghan's hand gently. "I'm Mr. Yoon's husband. It's really nice to meet you all. Jeonghan talks about his kids all the time."

The world stops spinning.

Seungkwan's eyes somehow go even wider. "Hus... band?" he breathes out, barely a whisper.

Joshua nods, lips curling. "Mhm. I've heard so much about you three specifically. You're Seungkwan, right? Then… you're Hansol. And you're Chan."

All three of them nod dumbly, too shocked to form actual words. Mr. Yoon's mysterious wife-turned-husband knows their names!

Jeonghan feels his face heating up slowly, warmth flooding his cheeks and spreading to his ears. Joshua is still holding his hand in front of the kids, completely unashamed, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"Ohhh," Chan breathes out, the sound long and drawn out as understanding finally dawns. He looks between them with wondering eyes. "So Mr. Yoon didn't have a wife at all. He had a husband this whole time!"

"That's so cool," Hansol comments matter-of-factly, nodding like this makes perfect sense to him.

"Wife…?" Joshua shoots Jeonghan a look but he simply shakes his head. Too complicated to explain right now.

But Seungkwan is still staring hard, his eyes narrowed now. He takes a step closer, squinting up at Joshua. He's seen this face somewhere before…

"Wait. Wait, wait, wait." His eyes suddenly go impossibly wide, so wide Jeonghan worries they might fall out. "I've seen you before! I know you! You're on TV!"

Joshua blinks, clearly caught off guard. His grip on Jeonghan's hand tightens slightly. "Oh. Uh—"

"You're an idol!" Seungkwan squeals, pointing dramatically with his entire arm, bouncing on his toes with excitement. "You're in that group! The one with the name that's a number! Um, um— Sixteen! My older sister has a hugeee poster of you on her wall! She says you're her bias! She loves you guys!"

Joshua scratches his cheek with his free hand, sheepish and slightly embarrassed. "Ah... yeah. That's... that's me. Sixteen. Guess the cat's out of the bag, huh?"

Jeonghan sighs. Of course Seungkwan would recognize him. The kid is basically a walking encyclopedia of pop culture thanks to his two older sisters.

"Okay," Jeonghan cuts in quickly, his voice taking on that no-nonsense teacher tone. He crouches down, pulling Joshua down with him since they're still holding hands and he has no intention of letting go.

"Listen to me very, very carefully, all three of you. This is extremely important and I need you to really understand what I'm about to say."

The kids lean in immediately, sensing the gravity in his voice.

"What you just learned about Joshua— about him being my husband and his job— all of that is a secret. A very, very important secret that absolutely cannot leave this hallway." Jeonghan looks each of them directly in the eye, making sure his words are sinking in. "You cannot tell anyone about this. Not your friends, not your siblings, not your parents, nobody. Do you all understand me?"

The three of them nod slowly, their faces growing solemn.

"If people find out about Joshua and me," Jeonghan continues, his voice soft but serious, "we could both get in a lot of trouble. Really big trouble. And I..." he swallows hard, "I might not be able to be your teacher anymore. They might make me leave."

Chan's eyes immediately well up with tears at his warning, his bottom lip trembling. "No! You can't leave!"

"I know you don't want that," Jeonghan says gently, reaching out to pat Chan's head. "That's exactly why I need you to promise me, pinky promise, that this stays a secret between just us. Okay?"

Seungkwan is the first to stick out his pinky, his small face set with fierce determination. "We promise, Mr. Yoon. We won't tell anybody. Right, guys?"

Hansol and Chan quickly follow suit, their small pinkies linking with Jeonghan's one by one, the gesture solemn and binding. Each connection feels important, sacred even.

"Our secret," Hansol echoes seriously, his voice grave.

"Forever and ever and ever," Chan adds solemnly.

Jeonghan smiles warmly, ruffling each of their heads in turn. "Thank you all so much. You're the best students ever. I trust you guys completely. Now, please go back inside and play, okay? I'll be there in just a few minutes."

They hesitate, still buzzing with the sheer absurdity and excitement of what just happened. The mysterious wife turned out to be a famous idol husband, after all!

But eventually they nod and turn, scampering back down the hallway, already whispering furiously to each other.

Jeonghan watches them go, making absolutely certain they actually make it all the way back to the classroom and disappear through the door before he lets out a long, weary exhale, his shoulders saging.

"Well," Joshua says lightly, both his hands coming up to rest on Jeonghan's waist, "that was fun."

Jeonghan turns to glare at him half-heartedly, though there's no real heat behind it. Just residual anxiety. "Fun? Seungkwan almost gave me a heart attack when he knew who you were."

"I'm not the one who forgot his lunch that his wonderful, amazing, handsome husband woke up early to make despite being exhausted from tour."

"Ugh, don't remind me. I'm the worst." Jeonghan groans, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Joshua's shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with his natural scent.

Joshua chuckles, his hand coming up to card through Jeonghan's hair, fingers gentle and soothing as they work through the strands.

"They're sweet kids. Really brave, trying to protect you like that from the bad, bad man."

"They genuinely thought you were going to kidnap me in a van, with candy."

"To be fair, I do look extremely suspicious." Joshua pulls back slightly, gesturing to his all-black outfit. "I'm dressed like I'm about to rob a bank."

"So… like every other idol trying to avoid being recognized."

"Same thing, really."

Jeonghan huffs out a laugh despite the stress of the last five minutes, the tension finally bleeding out of his shoulders. He lets himself properly melt into the embrace now, his arms coming up to wrap around Joshua's neck, holding on tight like Joshua might disappear if he lets go.

God, he missed him so much. The tour has felt endless, stretching on for weeks that felt like months, and while they text and video call as much as physically possible, it's absolutely not the same as having Joshua here, solid and warm in his arms.

"How long are you back for?" Jeonghan asks quietly, his voice muffled against Joshua's shoulder.

"Just today," Joshua admits reluctantly, and Jeonghan feels his heart sink like a stone dropping into water.

"We leave for Osaka really early tomorrow morning. Like 4 AM. I probably won't even sleep."

"Tomorrow," Jeonghan repeats flatly, not even trying to hide the disappointment that floods his voice.

Joshua pulls back just enough to cup Jeonghan's face in both hands, his palms warm against Jeonghan's cheeks. "Baby, look at me."

Jeonghan looks up reluctantly, meeting his eyes.

"I know it sucks," Joshua says softly, his voice low and sincere and full of understanding. "I miss you so much. But the tour ends in four more day. Then I'm all yours for an entire month. A whole month with no schedules, just us. We can do whatever you want."

Jeonghan's chest feels tight, warmth blooming in his chest despite the persistent ache of impending separation. "Promise?"

"Pinky promise." Joshua seals it with a kiss pressed gently to Jeonghan's forehead, soft and sweet. They're still technically in public, visible through the frosted glass doors to anyone walking by, so he doesn't kiss his lips no matter how much both of them desperately want to.

"Pinky promise? What are you, a kid?" Jeonghan teases quietly, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

"Your husband, actually." Joshua shoots back with a grin, and Jeonghan has to bite back a laugh. "Four more days, and then I'm completely yours. You can lock me in the apartment and do whatever you want."

"Don't tempt me, I'll actually do it." Jeonghan laughs wetly.

They stand there for another long moment, just holding each other in the empty hallway, soaking up every precious second of this small moment. When they finally step apart, Joshua holds up the lunch box with both hands, grinning.

"By the way," he says, "you forgot this, Mr. Yoon. After I so painstakingly made it for you this morning."

Jeonghan groans dramatically, taking it from him with both hands. "I know, I know. I'm terrible. You should divorce me immediately. Like, right now."

"Never," Joshua says without a single second of hesitation. He leans in to steal one more quick kiss on Jeonghan's cheeks. "Not in this lifetime or any other. Now go back to your classroom before those kids stage an elaborate rescue mission to save you from your suspicious husband."

Jeonghan laughs, the sound echoing softly in the empty hallway. "I'll see you after work, okay? We're eating dinner later, right?"

"Mhm. I'll be waiting." Joshua starts backing toward the door, pulling his disguise back on piece by piece. "Love you."

"Love you too," Jeonghan calls back softly, watching as Joshua slips out the door and jogs toward the waiting car idling at the curb.

He stands there for a moment longer, clutching his cloud-covered lunch box to his chest, watching until the car pulls away and disappears around the corner and out of sight.

When he pushes through the classroom door, he's immediately met with two pairs of knowing eyes that have clearly been waiting for his return.

Seungcheol and Wonwoo are standing right by the door near the cubbies with matching shit-eating grins plastered across their faces.

Oh no.

"So," Seungcheol drawls slowly, his grin widening, "that's the mysterious wife who you've been so secretive about for weeks, huh?"

"Okay—"

"We saw everything through the window," Wonwoo supplies helpfully, pointing toward the hallway windows, his voice dripping with amusement. "Very cute. You two are absolutely adorable together."

"Also," Seungcheol adds, leaning in conspiratorially and lowering his voice even though there are no kids nearby to overhear, "a husband? Really? An idol husband? And you let us think it was a wife this entire time? We've been investigating like fools for weeks!"

Jeonghan groans, covering his burning face with his hands, the lunch box dangling from one wrist. "Can we please just pretend this didn't happened?"

"Absolutely not," Wonwoo says cheerfully, looking more delighted than Jeonghan has ever seen him in the entire time they've worked together. "This is the most interesting thing to happen at this school in months, besides Minghao's breakdancing skills."

"And for the record," Seungcheol continues, clearly enjoying Jeonghan's suffering far too much,"your husband is really hot. Ten out of ten."

"Half of the reason why I didn't show you any pictures. Enough people thirst over my husband as it is, I don't want to add my two coworkers along with it. I genuinely hate both of you so much right now," Jeonghan mutters, but there's absolutely no real venom in it. "I'm putting in my two weeks' notice. I'm going to quit teaching and just be the trophy wife I was always destined to be."

"You won't quit," Seungcheol says confidently, completely certain. "You love these kids way too much. And besides, now we have amazing blackmail material if you ever actually try to leave."

"Also we need to know everything," Wonwoo adds. "How did you meet? How long have you been married? When did—"

Before Jeonghan could respond, Seungkwan bounces over like an overexcited bunny, completely oblivious to the teasing happening between the adults.

He tugs insistently on Jeonghan's apron with both hands, bouncing on his toes. "Mr. Yoon! Mr. Yoon! Can we play with the blocks now? I want to build a really, really tall castle! The biggest castle ever!"

And just like that, as suddenly as flipping a switch, the kids have moved on completely. The world keeps turning. Life goes on.

Jeonghan sighs deeply, sets his precious lunch box down carefully on the teacher's desk where it won't get knocked over, and follows Seungkwan toward the block area. Behind him, he can hear Seungcheol and Wonwoo's muffled laughter and continued whispered conversation, probably already planning exactly how they're going to tease him about this for the rest of his life.

"Mr. Yoon!" Seungkwan whines impatiently from the blocks. "Are you coming or not? We need your help!"

"Coming, coming!" Jeonghan calls back, his lips twitching into a smile despite everything.

It's going to be a long day.

But somehow, with his lunch box full of Joshua's cooking sitting on his desk and his touch still warm on his skin, it feels a little more bearable.