Archive of Our Own

The setting sun lit the living room up in hues of orange and red, a soft giggle escapes Jongho, tiny hands slapping against the floor in pure joy as Seonghwa hides behind his fingers then emerges seconds later with an exaggerated whisper of 'Peekaboo!'.

He feels his heart melting into pudding as his baby boy's eyes light up like little stars. Hongjoong always likes to say he got it from his star, and maybe, maybe he is starting to see why and that little detail, that little part of this small, tiny being having some part of him, of something Seonghwa had once felt insecure enough to hide behind hair and hats—

That makes tears well up in his eyes. 

And then something his little baby got from his dada... That was his attentiveness. And he notices as soon as one streak of wetness slides down Seonghwa's cheek, making the baby gasp with eyes widened in shock as he reaches out towards Seonghwa with his tiny hands clutched into fists. 

"Mam— Hah! Mama!" Jongho tries to speak, and that just does him in further. He has just started to speak, an early bird at eleven months old. Seonghwa lets out a laugh that was half a sob as he picks Jongho up, heart thrumming with joy for every time he gets called 'mama' by the little sweetheart, warmed to the bone every time he remembered that was his baby's first word. He still had to call his daddy but then again, baby steps. 

Seonghwa giggles just a little as he presses tiny, blowing kisses to Jongho's cute little face that reminds him a little of his own and sometimes, too much of Hongjoong as Jongho lets out high-pitched giggles and screeches.

As the sun set down fully, and stars started to make themselves known, he hears the telltale turn of Hongjoong's car park in the drive, followed by a jingle of keys before the front door opens. 

A few sighs and little sounds later, Hongjoong emerges from around the corner, stopping in the middle of loosening his tie as his eyes fall on the two of them. Hongjoong's ginger hair was in disarray, probably from how often he runs his fingers through them, his glasses sliding down his nose. His shirt was unbuttoned from the chest up, and his tie hung loose around his shirtcollar, half upturned on one side. Tiredness seems to echo from his very person, stiffness evident in the line of his shoulders. 

However, as soon as he saw them— Seonghwa on the rug in just one of Hongjoong's old college sweatshirts, holding onto Jongho who was wearing his brown little bear onesie— his tensed eyes gave way to something soft, shoulders thawing from the stiff hold of the weight he bore for his family.

"My loves," Hongjoong greets them, a smile growing on his face. Jongho claps his little hands as soon as he sees him, forgetting all about mama as he squeals, bright eyes fixed on his dad. One of those little hands slapping around catches Seonghwa in the jaw, a sharp pain blooming there, making him laugh at the little one's reaction. "Oh, there, there, my little love!"

As soon as all of Hongjoong's attention falls on Jongho, the baby screams in delight, then hides his face in Seonghwa's neck. 

"Oooh, shying away from daddy, are we?" Hongjoong teases, crouching in front of them and poking one finger in Jongho's side, making the baby squeal some more. "Are we? Huh?"

Seonghwa leans forward to press a kiss to Hongjoong's lips, and the sight of that makes Jongho giggle even more, as he looks between them, finally happy to have his whole world with him, it seems. 

"Say hi to daddy, Jongie?" Seonghwa prompts, finger pointing at Hongjoong, who turns with bright eyes and a small, squeaky sound towards Jongho, making the baby hide his face in Seonghwa's neck again. "Say, 'hi, Dada', baby."

Hongjoong makes a silly face, and finally, Jongho, having clapped enough, reaches out for the man to hold him. A request that he immediately complies with, hugging the baby to his chest before standing up with him in his arms, throwing him up in the air a couple times to catch him, making the previously quiet house brim with sounds of joy coming from the baby. 

Seonghwa follows close behind as Hongjoong walked towards the kitchen, already walking to the fridge to take out the dinner he had made earlier to heat up.

Hongjoong bounces Jongho on his hip, talking to him, asking him how his day went, listening intently as Jongho babbles at him. 

"Oh, is that right?" Hongjoong nods seriously, turning towards him, "Mama told you you're her favorite now, is that it, baby?"

Seonghwa rolls his eyes, heart warming traitorously in his chest as the two have their little conversation, chopping up Jongho's portions into tiny chunks. Hongjoong slides up behind him soon, stealing a few pieces because he knows how much that annoys him. 

He turns around to glare at him, only to falter as his lips twist into a smile against his will as both Hongjoong and Jongho stare back at him, with food-stained mouths and innocent, wide eyes. 

He finally can't hold back and leans forward to steal a kiss, making the man in front of him grin like a maniac. 

"Dada! Mama!"

Both parents gasp, looking at the baby as he stares back at them, grinning his gummy little smile. 

"Ohmygod—"

"Hongjoong, he—"

"Baby, can you say it again?" Hongjoong implores, eyes glistening as he clutches him closer to his chest. "Huh, love? Can you say 'dada'?"

Jongho squeals, "Dada! Mama!"

And his heart feels too big in his chest suddenly, and Seonghwa's eyes burn. Hongjoong wasn't faring any better, the wetness that he had tried to hold back spills over as he smothes Jongho in kisses. 

Finally, he pulls away from the giggling baby to shift his weight to his other arm, the one now free coming behind Seonghwa to pull the man to his side. 

Seonghwa immediately melts into the man, takes in the spiced scent of his cologne mingling with the sweat of a gruelling work day and wants nothing more than to stay like this, within his husband's arms, with his baby held between them, forever. He lets his head rest on Hongjoong's shoulder, smiling as he watches Jongho put his dada's tie into his mouth. Soon, he feels warmth pressed into the crown of his head, a kiss. Then he feels Hongjoong rest his cheek on top of his head, watching Jongho, too. 

Some wetness follows. 

"You've made me the happiest man on earth," Hongjoong confesses, a wet whisper. "Everyday—"

Another kiss is pressed into his hair, making his vision blur and burn. 

"Everyday, you make me the happiest man alive, Hwa," Hongjoong continues, "You're everything to me. You and Jongho."

Seonghwa just turns a little in his hold to hug him tighter, not trusting his words with the way his throat burns, wishing Hongjoong could feel what he wants. 

"Love you," And he does understand, "love you so much, my star."

__

Seonghwa winces, his headache getting worse by the second as he grades papers. 4th graders just make up whatever. Jongho glances up from where the 6-year-old is drawing onto his sketchbook with crayons, worry etched onto the toddler's face as he watches his mama clutch at the side of his head. 

"Mama?" He asks, worried. 

Seonghwa looks up, eyes softening and his hand falling away from where it was digging harshly into his forehead immediately. "Yes, darling? Need anything?"

Jongho shakes his head, putting his crayon down and pushing himself up so he can go to his mama. Seonghwa pushes the papers aside, pen placed on top, making sure they won't fly away. 

Jongho slides up to hug Seonghwa, immediately feeling his parent envelope him in his warmth. "I'm fine, mama. Mama wants medee— medi-cine?"

Seonghwa pulls back to squish his cheeks with his ink-stained hands, even as Jongho can see a little strain behind his eyes. "No, baby. I've got my medicine right here. Wanna give mama a kiss?"

Jongho nods, pressing a kiss into his mama's forehead, hoping the pain could go away. 

Seonghwa smiles so warmly that Jongho immediately feels better, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "My sweet little baby."

Jongho giggles. 

Seonghwa's eyes fall on his sketchbook then, mouth falling open in a dramatic 'o' shape. "What's that there, baby? That looks amazing!"

Jongho's excitement grows at that question, and he immediately brings over his sketchbook. The drawing he'd been working on had three figures on it. One of them was Seonghwa, as he points out to the man, and he had drawn him in a pretty dress he had seen him wear during his birthday last month and he'd even coloured it a nice pink all over. He had even helpfully drawn a halo of what were stars around his head. Seonghwa gasps. 

"Oh, the dress looks exactly like mine!" His dress is shorter and blue but his eyes sparkle nonetheless. Jongho grins wide as he points to the next figure, and it was no big effort to figure out who the small stick figure was, as Jongho explains, it was him and he was holding a sword! "To protect mama and dadda!"

And of course, the last figure. Taller than Seonghwa in the picture, somehow and wearing what Jongho described as his tie and suit with a huge blob of carrot orange on his head was Hongjoong. 

Seonghwa giggles, "That looks just like your dad! He'd be so excited to see it!"

Jongho starts to nod then pauses, holding the sketchbook in his hand as he frowns, head sinking between his shoulders. Seonghwa frowns. 

"What's wrong, baby?"

Jongho looks up with wet eyes, "Will dadda be late again? he's always home after— after bedtime."

Seonghwa immediately pulls the boy into his arms, feeling tears prick his eyes and his heart shatter into a thousand pieces. 

"Hey, no, baby," He rubs between Jongho's shoulder as the boy heaves, tiny sobs wreaking havoc on Seonghwa's heart, "I'll show your dada this if it gets late, darling?"

Jongho sniffles, "I miss dada, mama."

Seonghwa has never felt pain such as this as he clutches harder at the toddler, "Me, too, baby. Me, too. Dada has work, though. You know that, right?"

The past year has been tough on their family, as Hongjoong was laid off from his previous job and started work again at a much lower position at another company. He'd been doing long hours since, wanting to make ends meet and get recognized for his work there. Seonghwa's salary as a preschool teacher barely made a difference most days. 

And for every time he put a crying Jongho to bed, asking for his dada, he had cried himself to sleep as well, wishing for the bed to feel less lonely. 

When it was dinner time, and he had made Jongho Mac and Cheese to distract him, he stepped away with the excuse of washing the dishes to call Hongjoong, keeping Jongho in his line of sight as he watched cartoons, bringing his spoon to his mouth extra slow because he knew Seonghwa didn't like messes, even though he had never been angry with him for that before. 

His heart aches. 

The phone rings in his ear, once, twice before he hears Hongjoong's voice. 

"What's wrong, Hwa?" Hongjoong asks, sounding winded. "My boss is calling me, hurry, baby."

"Jongho was missing you." Seonghwa speaks as fast as he can, breathing a little heavy. The line went silent for a bit. 

"I've told you to call me only when it's important, Hwa." The man's voice comes out the phone, already strained. "I had to leave a meeting thinking it was an emergency."

"Sorry, sorry," Seonghwa whispers, watching Jongho put down his bowl, looking back at him. He forces a smile, raising one hand to wiggle his fingers at him. "He was crying, Joong. Please."

Hongjoong sighs, and it crackles against his ear. Loud and dismissive. 

"Kids cry all the time, Seonghwa." He says, then sighs again, "I'll try, okay? I'll see what I can do."

Seonghwa gulps down a lump in his throat, almost choking before he hears a click. Hongjoong had hung up. 

Jongho's face doesn't show anyone emotion as he looks at Seonghwa, smiling still now but it's more strained. 

Later as they're cuddling, Seonghwa is in the midst of putting Jongho to sleep when he hears it. 

"Dada isn't coming home, is he?"

Seonghwa feels his throat close up, tries his best to be brave for his baby bear in spite of the storm brewing under his skin. 

"Maybe not tonight, baby."

Jongho just curls into Seonghwa, making his vision burn. 

___

"He's playing his first big game tomorrow." Seonghwa says, looking at Hongjoong as he puts down a glass of water in front of him. Hongjoong groans, loud and irritated. There's gray around his temples now, making him look devastatingly handsome.

"God, can a man not rest for a moment before you throw another thing at me?"

Seonghwa almost breaks, then. Lets the worst of fears surface just to maybe have Hongjoong tell him he's over-thinking it. His eyes then fall onto Jongho in the backyard. He's practicing his pitching, gloved hand throwing the ball at the wall and catching it as it bounds back. 

"I'm not!" He says, then, pleading eyes glancing at Hongjoong, "He needs you there. You taught him that game and he loves it because of you."

Hongjoong sighs, "I've told you, Hwa, I have to leave for that work trip tomorrow. If I don't go, then I'm out of a job, and you can forget about sending Jongho to college."

Seonghwa, fully reprimanded, apologies. And then doesn't know who he apologized to. His son, glancing over his shoulder at the way his daddy got up to leave for upstairs, or Hongjoong, who shoved reality at him every turn he got with him. 

___

Seonghwa gasps, as Hongjoong presses him down onto the bed. His hands expertly glide up his thighs, pulling his nightgown up with the motion as he grinds down onto him. His hands are as rough as he remembers them being, and it's been so long—

"Joong!" He moans, hips rotating in small circles that make the other groan as he bites down onto his neck, making him almost scream. He feels a hand slap itself over his mouth, then, eyes rolling back into his skull with how good he feels, finally having his husband locked between his thighs. 

Hongjoong trails a line of wet kisses up his neck, his jaw and he moans almost wantonly as he finally, finally, feels those lips close over his—

A phone rings. Hongjoong jerks up immediately, rolling over and off him to get to his nightstand and picking up his phone. He immediately walks out the bedroom door, throwing him an apologetic glance before leaving Seonghwa, nightgown drawn up to his chest and legs wide open, alone on the bed.

It was a weekend, and before Hongjoong would leave his phone ringing even on weekdays, even if running late, just to spend some more time with Seonghwa and now—

Hongjoong steps into the room in a hurry, walking over to the closet and pulling clothes out in a hurry. 

"Sorry, darling," He says, as Seonghwa crawls up towards the top of the bed, heat crawling up his face. He doesn't understand. "there's something regarding the project deadline that the boss wants to discuss."

"Now?" He asks, incredulity creeping into his voice as he watches the man haphazardly pull on some pants. Hongjoong doesn't notice, coming around to pick up his wallet from the Seonghwa's nightstand, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek before he's halfway across the room. 

"Of course, now, Seonghwa," He says, buttoning-up his shirt, "when else would it be?" 

The door closes behind him. 

___

Seonghwa's washing dishes, scrubbing away at grime long gone as he intently watches out the window into their front yard. Jongho had been practicing his pitching outside, a nice calming routine for him. And Seonghwa is always happy to have his little one do some physical activities— not that he needs it, he thinks. He's too strong. Stronger, perhaps, than even Hongjoong. 

However, soon enough, a new face had made itself known. The Smiths had moved out last month, and someone new had moved in. Seonghwa caught the man sometimes, broad-shouldered with strong arms carrying stuff inside or walking with a little boy no less than 8-years-old.

The man had watched Jongho from his own garage where he had been fixing something in his car, and Seonghwa had watched him back. A few minutes ago, the man had finally wiped his hands on some rag before he had walked across the street to Jongho, pale skin, accentuated by the black tank he wore, glistening with sweat in the overhead sunlight. Seonghwa had never seen biceps this big before in his life. 

And he thinks Jongho shared that awe, too, as he looks up at him. And Seonghwa wishes he had his glasses with him because the glint of that jawline lets him know the man must be very handsome. He feels a twinge of guilt thinking of Hongjoong, but then again, he's just looking to look. It's been a while since he had last seen his husband. 

Hongjoong has been on work trip after work trip to Japan for the past six months. 

The man crouches down a little, listening intently to Jongho talk as he nods before pushing himself up by the hands on his knees. He soon motions for Jongho, saying something Seonghwa can't quite catch over the distance and the sound of rushing water in the sink. 

Jongho shows him his pitch. The man nods approvingly before he goes to get the ball, and then talks to Jongho as he shows him some postures he never even noticed in all the games he's watched Jongho play. He feels a little guilty about that, because baseball had always been Hongjoong's thing and he never quite understood it. 

The man then pitches the ball, and he can sense it makes a difference. Jongho's excited whooping is audible even all the way to him, and it makes his heart swoop. He's just 13-years-old but sometimes the boy acts too mature and it makes Seonghwa's heart ache. He knows why. He thinks Seonghwa needs someone reliable, but it's not his job to fulfill. If anything, Seonghwa is the adult in the house that Jongho should rely on, with how often Hongjoong is gone. 

He feels tears prickle his eyes, and quickly wipes it with his arm, attention going back to the man playing with Jongho. Soon, he's even brought his own baseball bat and the two actually start playing, with Jongho pitching and the man hitting it. Jongho's laughing like mad as he plays, and the sound soothes over all the aches in Seonghwa's heart. 

Before long, the sun has risen too high in the sky for anyone to safely stand under its onslaught. Jongho and the man had sat down a couple seconds ago to rest in the shade of the front porch. Seonghwa rushes to the fridge to pull out the jug full of lemonade he makes for when Jongho comes back from playing. This time, however, he puts two glasses on a tray before he's moving out. 

The man looks up as soon as he swings the door fully open with his hip, eyes widening just a little before he gets up. 

"Mr. Kim, hello," The man says, a flush rising high on his cheeks, and Seonghwa was right. He is just as handsome as he thought, with straight brows and wide, puppy-like eyes. His voice is deep like gravel, and it sends a shiver up his spine as he speaks. "Kang Yeosang. I am your neighbor! Just moved into the Smith's home."

"Hello," Seonghwa says, warm, offering Jongho a glass then the man, who looks at it then at Seonghwa again before finally taking it. "I know. You and your little one, right?"

The man smiles, almost like just thinking of his kid is enough to bring him happiness, "Yes, me and my son, Wooyoung."

Then like remembering something, "I hope you don't mind me playing with Jongho," He pleads, looking at Jongho who's bouncing with excitement at Seonghwa's side, "he's an amazing player. You should get the little man into a professional league, one day!"

Seonghwa feels pride surge up in his throat as he glances at Jongho, hugging him close to his side. "I would love to, you know, but the little man wants to be a doctor."

Yeosang gasps then looks at Jongho with such a cute, proud smile. "Something tells me he's gonna be exactly what he wants."

That makes both Jongho and him laugh. 

Then an alarm goes off in Yeosang's phone. His eyes widen as he quickly drinks up the lemonade, handing the glass back to an astonished Seonghwa. "Thank you, Mr. Kim. Gotta go pick Wooyoung up from his aunt's."

Then he's off, and something about the interaction leaves him feeling hollow. He looks down at Jongho, wondering if he feels bad that the only person who picks him and drops him off is Seonghwa. 

Jongho, however, turns to him with the full-force of his gummy smile and bright, round eyes, "Mama! Uncle Yeosang's so cool! He gave me so maaaanyyy tips! I'm gonna be unstoppable at the next game."

Seonghwa puts the tray down on the porch table, moving forward to gather Jongho in his arms. 

"Mama, I'm all sweaty!"

"Hey, I cleaned up after you as a baby!"

"Mama!" Jongho's indignant yell makes him giggle, joy returning to his heart. If just for a little bit. 

"My baby," He says, clutching at the boy's chubby cheeks, "you make me so proud."

Jongho's eyes widen but then a giggle escapes him anyway and he hugs Seonghwa back, little hands squeezing around his sundress. 

"I'm proud of you, too, mama."

And if his eyes sting at that, he doesn't let Jongho know. 

___

Hongjoong's pacing through the living room, and it's unsettling. 

He's glad Jongho's at baseball practice but something tells him Hongjoong picked the time specifically because of that. Usually, he's never home around this time. 

The sun tries to cast the room in faint hues of orange, the overhead light burns too brightly for anyone to fully appreciate the beauty of the sunset across the sliding glass door leading into the backyard. 

Hongjoong stops suddenly, looking at him. His eyes have an unnatural energy to them. He can sense he's worried but there's an excitement in his shoulders, in the bounce of his feet there that he can't quite determine the origin of. 

Before he figures out what's happening, Hongjoong blurts it out. 

"I'm gonna be a father."

Seonghwa's heart twists, faint happiness crawling up his chest even as the expression on Hongjoong's face unsettles him. 

"Jongho would appreciate—"

Hongjoong groans, squeezing his eyes shut as he rubs at them. He does it for a moment, then pinches his nose bridge before he finally looks at him. 

"I am going to be a father, Hwa," He says softly this time, looking at Seonghwa's confused eyes following him around the room from where he's sitting on the loveseat. "It's not about Jongho."

Hongjoong's tone grows soft, almost adoring when he says the first half. Almost hopeful. 

Seonghwa feels nothing, for a moment. Nothingness. It has a tingling feeling, he thinks, makes goosebumps rise up on your body. Makes you feel floaty, like you're no longer on the ground. A lack of gravity.

"What?"

He doesn't know how he says it, with what tone or intensity. He just knows he does. Asks what, and doesn't really hear his own voice past the rushing of blood in his ears. 

Hongjoong wipes a hand across his mouth, glancing at the wall behind the loveseat. "I'm gonna be a father—"

"Why?" He says, finally feels a rush in his chest. It's something hot, like molten magma. It hurts as it crawls up into his chest, into his lungs. 

"Hwa, you don't understand—" Hongjoong starts then stops abruptly. 

The burning in his chest grows. "What the fuck don't I understand, Hongjoong? What the fuck do you mean?"

He's not quite sure how he ended up kneeling on the rug, but he's kneeling on the rug now. He's no longer on the loveseat. And Hongjoong's still standing in that spot. Frozen because Seonghwa doesn't curse.

"You tell me I don't understand but I've been here for the past fifteen years being understanding of all your fucking whims, and now you're telling me you went out and knocked up some trash—"

Hongjoong's eyes blaze—

"Don't call him that." His tone is ice, and Seonghwa never remembers Hongjoong using that tone to speak to him. Guess it's a good day for firsts. Then he understands what he said and wants to hurl the vase on the living room table at him. Hongjoong sees something, if not the exact thought then at least the intent. 

"See, I knew you'd do this," Hongjoong says, throwing his hands up in the air, exasperated, "at least I'm trying to explain, Hwa. I'm trying—"

"I'm trying, too! Fuck, I've been trying for the past fifteen fucking years!" Seonghwa doesn't shout, doesn't scream but it's close. It's close and it feels like he can feel his heart tear apart in real time.

"You don't understand!" Hongjoong almost sobs, hands running through his hair, "Okay? You don't understand what it feels like to stand in the same place for fifteen fucking years—"

"I don't understand, Hongjoong?" Seonghwa grits out his teeth, tears streaming down his face at such an intensity he can't quite make out more than the vague shape of the man standing in front of him. He wipes at the snot that's gathered around his upper lip. "I don't? I've been standing right here with you in the same fucking spot, too! I've not been going around sleeping with men about it, either. I've been here. I've been here for that entire time, placing all my hopes on you, and taking care of our son like you should have!"

"And you have done amazing, Seonghwa," Hongjoong's tone is softer now, "you have! But It just happened! I'm just a man, I don't have an excuse but we all make mistakes. We all have needs—"

"And I don't?" Seonghwa doesn't recognize his voice. It's a snarl. "I have needs, too, Hongjoong. So does our 14-year-old son who barely sees his father once a week. We have needs, too, Hongjoong."

And if he spits his name out like a curse, watches as Hongjoong flinches, that's not on him. 

"Listen, he's—" Hongjoong presses his fingers into temples before sighing and collapsing onto the couch in front of Seonghwa, who's still kneeling on the rug, "I can't— I can't just leave him like that, Seonghwa. You have to understand. He's... He's pregnant and he needs me. He gets me, Hwa. I can't— I can't do without him."

Seonghwa feels like the pressure building up in his chest suddenly lets go, heart dropping down to his stomach. 

"Why'd you bring that here, then? To my house?  To tell me I don't get you? That I'm inadequate after you have had your use of me, Hongjoong?" Seonghwa whispers, not bothering anymore to wipe at his tears or his snot anymore. 

Hongjoong makes a pained noise. 

"You're not inadequate, Hwa—" He says, frustration leaking into his soft tone, "I just— there's things you don't understand. It just happened. He makes me feel better—"

"So does Yeosang across the street, Hongjoong. He makes me feel good, too." Seonghwa lashes out, wanting to cause as much hurt as possible. "You know what I've not been doing? Sleeping with him and getting pregnant like street trash—"

"I told you to stop calling him that!" Hongjoong stands over him, fury evident in the set of his shoulders. 

"Mama?"

Seonghwa chokes. Hongjoong freezes. 

Jongho stands in the doorway, practice bag sliding off his shoulder as he glances between them, round eyes big as saucers. 

"Jongho, baby... " He tries but feels his throat close up. Jongho runs forward, dropping his bag on the floor as he shoves Hongjoong back from him.

He knows it doesn't look good. Hongjoong shouting and standing over him while he's down on his knees. He'd have to tell him that. That his dad isn't a complete loser. 

Hongjoong turns towards him, then, "It'd have been a happy occasion, if you didn't go around ruining everything."

"I ruin everything? Happy occasion?" He whispers, disbelief clear in his tone. "You cheated on me, Hongjoong!"

Hongjoong picks up his coat from the sofa, ignores Jongho's gasp. 

"His name's Yunho," He says when he reaches the doorway, fixing his tie that had come loose during his pacing. "And he's got my child with him. I can't just leave him."

He hears the doors shut, then the car pulls out from the driveway. 

Finally—

He sobs. He doesn't know how or why, but he finally breaks down, as Jongho clutches at him. "Mama, don't cry. Mama... "

But he can hear his baby boy cry, too, and then his heart hurts even more as he pulls him into his arms. 

"Mama... "

"Oh, baby, I am so sorry..."

"Stop being sorry for things you didn't do, mama," Jongho chokes out, sniffing, "stop apologizing for things that aren’t your fault."

Seonghwa feels another rush of tears run down his face as he sobs, "I couldn't— I couldn't give you a father, I'm so sorry. It's my job to hold him down—"

"It's not." There's a finality in Jongho's voice, a maturity that shouldn't be present in a 14-year-old's voice, "It's his responsibility to take care of us. Not yours, mama. You've picked up after him enough."

Seonghwa lets out a little sob at that, clutching harder at Jongho, as he repeats the last word once more. 

___

It's been a month, and Seonghwa's not heard much from Hongjoong. Jongho hovers. And it's evident in the way his eyebrows furrow when he sees him sitting by himself in the living room, TV off and the lights, too. Or when he catches him trying to budget through their groceries because he doesn't know if Hongjoong will send money now, and his salary is only so much. 

He even puts up a video to try to fix the sink. Something's gone wrong and the water keeps filling up. He went at it for an hour then gave up, shoulders heavy. 

He's sitting on the kitchen table again when he hears a knock at the door, and he's surprised to see it's Yeosang, followed by Jongho looking nervously back at him. 

Yeosang's face is earnest as he holds onto Wooyoung, the toddler staring awed at Seonghwa then shying away to hide in his father's chest. 

"Hey, Mr. Kim," Yeosang clears his throat, "Jongho told me you have an issue with your sink?"

Yeosang tells him he's been doing repairs like this his whole life, something about liking to fix things. Wooyoung sits well-behaved on the living room rug with Jongho showing him his toys from his childhood, and the toddler watches with rapt attention as the older boy sets down toy after toy from the basket. 

"Jongho tells me he tried his best to fix it," Yeosang huffs out a laugh, reaching out to pick up a tool from the bag he'd brought over, glancing at him as he sits on a chair in front of him. "Do you mind if I teach him how?"

Seonghwa forces a smile, "Not really, I think he would like that."

Yeosang stills for a beat then, "Are you okay, Mr. Kim?"

"Just call me Seonghwa," He corrects, the last name falls on his ears like knives clashing against one another, "and I'm fine, just some seasonal allergies."

Yeosang nods with bright eyes, "I get it. Happens to my mom, too. It’s a nightmare when spring comes around."

Seonghwa laughs, and it's not entirely forced this time. It's just something about Yeosang's earnestness, his honesty. It puts him at ease, at least a little. 

He doesn't hear the car pull up in the driveway, but he hears the jingle of keys and two voices speaking over one another. 

Seonghwa freezes where he's sat. 

Hongjoong enters the house like he doesn't own it. And a lump forms in his throat when he hears him beckon someone else inside. 

He doesn't notice they have company until after he's crosses the threshold into the kitchen, in search of Seonghwa, perhaps. 

His eyes fall on Yeosang, who looks up from where he is undoing a bolt below the skin. Yeosang glances at Seonghwa before his eyes widen with a smile. 

"Hello, sir," Yeosang says, "hope you don't mind me fixing up here. Jongho asked me to."

Hongjoong frowns, doesn't even offer a hand as he turns to Seonghwa, "Why not call a plumber?"

Seonghwa wants to scream at him.

"Because he offered, Hongjoong." His voice is calm, as calm as can be. He knows there's someone else standing behind the partition wall, not daring to step out and into view yet. He sees the way Jongho has stopped placating Wooyoung though, and that he watches whoever it is with ice in his eyes. 

Yeosang giggles a little, completely unaware of the situation, "It's my pleasure, sir. After all, we're neighbors and Jongho's such a great kid. You did a good job with him."

Hongjoong has the forethought to look a little ashamed at that. A vicious part of him feels good about that.

"That's all Seonghwa." He says, wiping at his mouth before he turns to him. He places a few papers in front of him. "I'll go pick some of my stuff from upstairs."

He doesn't watch Hongjoong go, just stares at the papers. Divorce papers. 

Fifteen years, and that's all he gets for it. 

He wants to laugh. He wants to sob. 

He gets up instead, seeing that Yeosang's gone back to fixing the sink. Each step towards the hallway between the living room and kitchen feels painful, like someone's placed glass all over his path. He doesn't stop, though. 

The man startles when he turns the corner. He's tall, taller than Seonghwa, with wide eyes that remind him of a puppy, and round cheeks. He's beautiful, with messy black locks falling over his forehead and a faint glow about him. Seonghwa finally understands what people meant when they told him he was glowing when he was pregnant with Jongho. 

There's a hardness in the man's eyes, but also wariness. 

"You should sit," He says, watching the way the man— Yunho, his mind provides— clutches at his lower belly, it's not really showing but he knows it will, soon. "I'll make you something to drink."

"There's no need," His voice is deep, "We'll go just as soon as hyung gets his things."

Seonghwa pauses, then. He won't force. 

Then almost like he can't help himself, it bubbles out from his mouth—

"Did you know?" He whispers, can see how closely Jongho keeps a watch on them from his peripheral, "About me?"

He tries very hard not to break down, swallows harshly. 

Yunho looks at him with a blank look. "Yes."

Seonghwa's breath stutters. 

"You didn't mind?"

Yunho clutches at his stomach, stands a little taller, a smile curving around his lips, "I don't mind. Hyung's staying with me, now. He promised to take care of me."

Promised.

Seonghwa nods, a little stilted, a little jaded. Walks back into the kitchen as he hears footsteps bounding down the stairs. 

He goes back to the kitchen table, where he left the papers. Doesn't bother reading through them as he grabs a pen from where Jongho left his homework half-finished. He signs his name wherever he sees the blank waiting for it. When he's done, Hongjoong is still hauling a heavy bag towards the gate. He picks up the papers, and goes over to him. 

Hongjoong freezes a little, almost like he's expecting a hit only for Seonghwa to hold the papers out for him to take. 

"I signed them." He says, swallowing back another lump and Hongjoong nods, eyes not really looking at him. 

He doesn't bother looking back as they leave, goes back to sit on the chair and watches Yeosang work. 

He'll have to cook soon. Jongho watches him for a bit before he goes back to Wooyoung. 

Outside the sun sets, painting the house in oranges and reds. Seonghwa breathes in wetly. 

They'll be fine.