Work Text:
I was painting a picture
The picture was a painting of you
And for a moment I thought you were here
But then again, it wasn't true, da-da
And all this time I have been lying
Oh, lying in secret to myself
I've been putting sorrow on the farthest place on my shelf
_______________________________________________________
Seonghwa looks at the text, rubbing a hand over his mouth. Then a sob tries to escape and he presses the hand down on his mouth to muffle it. He's been in here for the past hour, and he knows Jongho must be getting worried.
Hongjoong:
Yesterday, 3rd December, 2026
Need the house empty by next weekend.
Moving in with Yunho.
He doesn't have anyone to turn to. He was all alone, now. His only friend, Mingi, was in Japan. And it's been at least two years since they last spoke. Marriage had taken more from him than just his dignity. His social life, his hobbies — everything. He could no longer remember what he had been like before marriage, before Hongjoong.
A knock sounds on the bathroom door, "Mama?"
Seonghwa quickly takes a deep breath in, chest heaving as he struggles, trying to sound normal about everything. "Yeah, baby?"
"Are you alright? It's been a while." Jongho sounds worried, and it sends another pang of hurt through him. He barely holds back his sob.
"I'm fine, darling," He answers, knows his voice is shaking, "I'll be right out."
Jongho hums, and then he hears footsteps. He knows he doesn't believe him. Attentiveness. It's his fatal flaw.
Seonghwa gets off the toilet seat to splash water over his face, hesitating before he glances at the mirror. There's gray scattered around his hair. His eyes are dragged down by dark circles and his shirt has a large ink stain on the front that makes him wince in pain.
He thinks of Jongho waiting for him outside. The text sitting innocently on his phone.
6 months of nothing, and then this.
Fifteen years of slaving after the man and all he gets is this. Never a warning, never an apology.
When he steps out of the bathroom, Jongho is sitting on a chair nearby. He perks up as soon as he sees him, bounding over.
"You took so long, mama!" Jongho says, shaking his head. "Uncle Yeosang wanted to ask you about something, but he left."
Seonghwa sucks in a deep breath. Yeosang.
The man had been so helpful after the divorce, helping them in whatever way he could.
Seonghwa grabs a shawl from over the chair, wrapping it around his shoulders. “I'll just go across and ask him, okay, baby?”
Jongho's eyebrows furrow but he nods, then smiles like he just remembered something. “Can I come with? I really wanna show Wooyoungie a new game I learned!”
Seonghwa chuckles, bringing a hand up to card through Jongho's deep brown locks before pinching his cheek, making him groan in embarrassment. “Of course, you can, baby.”
Seonghwa fusses some more over Jongho, wrapping him in a thick jacket, socks and a scarf like they're going to the city on foot, and not just across the street. However, Jongho just lets him, sighing but acquiescing without any fight. It melts his heart, how much his baby has grown and at the same time, it hurts just as much.
He's a teenage boy, he's supposed to rebel, supposed to groan and complain about his mother smothering him. Maybe even fight him but all he does is be understanding. All he does is show that he knows exactly how much Seonghwa can take, and sometimes gives more of an inch where he can. It aches something deeply painful in his heart.
They trudge across the snow covered road, Jongho clutching Seonghwa’s hand. He doesn't really need it, but Seonghwa does. And maybe he knows.
Yeosang opens his door with surprise coloring his face at the sight of the mother and son duo at his doorstep, which is quickly taken over by a pleasant joy. Warmth spreads over them even before they're ushered inside the cozy warmth of the place.
Yeosang has truly set everything up for Christmas. The small tree in the corner is decorated in a way that follows no logic other than pure joy, as he sees the haphazardly thrown together confetti, lights and baubles making it look adorable. Wooyoung sits in front of it, playing with two toy cars in his hand. As he makes one fly up in the air, his eyes land on Seonghwa and he flushes. Getting up, cars clutched between tiny hands to hide behind the tree.
The sight reminds Seonghwa of when Jongho was this tiny, and he wants so badly to hug the little one but he knows better than to. Wooyoung gets extremely shy around him.
Yeosang giggles awkwardly as he notices Seonghwa’s gaze. “Yeah, sorry about that. I am hopeless at decorating, but Wooyoung has such fun doing it, so I just let him loose on there.”
Seonghwa startles but laughs as he registers what he said, “It's cute.”
Yeosang flushes darker than the maroon Christmas sweater he's wearing, gesturing for Seonghwa to sit on one of the cozy sofas lined up in front of the windows looking across the street. He sees his own home for the past decade and a half, and has to work hard to swallow down a painful stinging in his eyes. The sofas are placed in a strategic way, however, that whoever sits on them has a clear view of the Christmas tree.
Yeosang runs over to the kitchen in a hurry before bringing over a tray with a steaming tea kettle, and a couple of cups.
“Tea?” He asks, and Seonghwa nods, a little jerky but unable to resist the other man's warm attitude. Yeosang starts to pour the tea into two cups, spilling it just a bit.
“I didn't peg you as a tea person, Yeosang-ssi.” Seonghwa tries for conversation, leaning forward to accept the cup. Yeosang gave him the one he didn't spill over, and the thought makes his heart feel full.
Yeosang does that awkward giggle he does again, rubbing over his knees like soothing an ache, “I wasn't, really. But once Wooyoung drank my coffee because he saw me doing it so often, and then he couldn't sleep for two days…”
Yeosang flushes a little, glancing over at Wooyoung, who was showing Jongho his work around the tree. The older boy has an ever-present gummy smile as he nods and gasps at all the right times, making it so Wooyoung has his chest puffed out proudly like a peacock. The sight pulls a soft laugh out of him, a genuine one.
He looks over to see Yeosang watching him with this surprised expression. It looked a little like how Wooyoung would look at him and it was at once too much, and he glanced down at his tea, blowing gently at it.
“Jongho told me you came by, Yeosang-ssi.” He prompts, sipping at his tea and letting the earthly flavour settle on his tongue before he looks up finally.
Yeosang nods immediately, swiping his thumb across his nose like he does when he's nervous. It's too obvious. It's the way he behaved every time Hongjoong came around to take some documents or for his clothes, Yeosang always appearing out of nowhere, always with an offer of help or the excuse that Wooyoung needed Jongho. The day he had found out that Hongjoong had brought divorce papers the day he fixed their kitchen, he was devastated. And Seonghwa couldn't understand why.
“Well, you know, Wooyoung needs to go to school. I've been homeschooling him with my sister’s help but—” Yeosang makes a soft frustrated sound, huffing out his teeth, “It’s holding him back. He's a friendly kid, and he needs friends. I was… wondering if you knew schools around here that could take him?”
Seonghwa nods, knowing his own workplace would take him. “It's tough, especially if you want him to suddenly be inserted in a class that's already formed friendships, but it's not impossible. My school does a test to figure out if the kid can hold out, and then they place them in the appropriate class.”
Yeosang breathes out a sigh of relief, his features lighting up like he's a child. “Thank you so much! I could— I could try after Christmas break is over?”
Seonghwa nods, glancing at how Wooyoung talks at Jongho who struggles to keep up, “I'll help, Yeosang-ssi, don't worry about it.”
Yeosang smiles so wide at him, you'd think he had given him some otherworldly treasure and not just a few minutes of his time.
Yeosang opens his mouth to say something before something catches his attention behind Seonghwa. Unable to help himself, he turns towards where Yeosang is looking and chokes on his breath.
Hongjoong’s car is pulling into the driveway.
Yeosang gets up as he does, eyes stuck to where Hongjoong gets out of the car.
“Would you mind if I tag along, Seonghwa-ssi?”
Something in him wants to say no, because he's afraid of the ugly face that Hongjoong might show when he sees Yeosang beside him but if he leaves alone, Jongho—
Jongho will follow.
And he doesn't want that.
Yeosang tells Jongho to look over Wooyoung while the adults go out to have a look at something, and the teenager none the wiser agrees wholeheartedly, before going back to the toddler who's talking his ear off.
Yeosang stalks behind him like he's his bodyguard, something about that gives him a stroke of courage to walk past the doorway of his house. Hongjoong glances back at the sound, wary eyes hardening as he takes in Yeosang behind him.
Then he grows dismissive, like the other man doesn't exist.
“You didn't answer my text.”
Seonghwa gulps, and hopes he looks as brave as he's trying to feel, “Did I have to? You said move out, and I'm trying to find places. I still have until next week.”
Yeosang makes a choked noise behind him, and he grabs behind him before he finds the man's clenched fist and gives a reassuring squeeze before pulling back. The motion doesn't escape Hongjoong's eyes, who scoffs like he's seen something truly disgusting.
“Well, I hope you find one.” Hongjoong grits out, “I need to install a nursery up there, and it's gonna take time.”
Seonghwa is about to reply, something cold at the tip of his tongue when he hears the footsteps. Heavy, and staggering just a little. Hongjoong, having heard them as well, immediately ignores the other two to run up the stairs.
It doesn't take long for him to reappear, one hand gently holding Yunho's and the other wrapped securely around his back. The other man is dressed in a large fur coat, and a maternity gown that hangs down to his bare ankles, swollen and painful. He's so big now that Seonghwa just knows the due date isn't far.
Seonghwa almost feels a twinge of pain in his heart, but it's quickly gone as soon as Yunho starts speaking, replaced with something cold that slithers down his spine.
“I found the perfect room,” He's saying, a soft smile decorating his bowed lips. His cheeks have grown even fuller, and pregnancy hasn't taken any of his beauty away, only enhancing it. “It's the one at the end of the hallway.”
The room at the end of the hallway is Jongho's.
He watches Hongjoong’s face, waits for a refusal, some form of denial. He understands Hongjoong wants him out of here but he must have some space in his life for his son, he thinks, he must, right?
Hongjoong just smiles, nodding. “That's a wonderful choice, darling. It makes sense, too. It's the closest to the main bedroom.”
Yunho just giggles, and lets Hongjoong help him down. That giggle stops as soon as his eyes land on him standing in the foyer.
“Hyung.” He almost whines, like it's some sort of anomaly to find him in the space he's occupied for the last fifteen years, raising his child and building a family with the ginger-haired man that's now wrapped around him. His eyes glance pleadingly at Hongjoong.
Hongjoong just shakes his head, eyes rolling in a way that tells him he tried to be discreet about it but then gave up halfway. “He'll be out of here soon, love.”
Love.
The word makes his lunch almost crawl up into his mouth, and into his throat.
Yunho huffs, lips pouting in frustration and Hongjoong coos at him, cupping his cheeks like he's not a foot taller than him. He notices something, too, that he wasn't able to before, like his mind withheld him from processing this one fact.
Yunho is obviously younger. And the thought makes goosebumps rise on the back of his neck.
He feels a hand brush across the small of his back, realizes Yeosang is still there, witnessing this theatre of his humiliation play out in real time. Tears burn the back of his eyes but he refuses to let them fall.
Hongjoong sighs, then, almost like he just remembered the other two were still there and that he hated to acknowledge that. He turns to Seonghwa, looking at him like he's an insect, dirt under his shoe and not someone he slept next to for the better part of his life, someone he fathered a child with, tried to build a life with.
You make me the happiest man alive, Hwa.
Seonghwa sucks in a wet breath that had threatened to be a sob.
“Until next Friday.” There's finality in his tone, and Seonghwa nods, shaky. His hands would tremble if not for the hand that hadn't left his back since earlier.
He steps back, eyes on the floor as Hongjoong slowly walks Yunho out, and when he looks up for a second, he immediately feels gutted by the smug smile that decorates Yunho's face.
And he wishes he could bring himself to be mad at him but he can't.
It's all… it's all—
The door slams shut. He collapses to the floor as soon as it does. Yeosang’s presence is the only reason he isn't sobbing like a little kid.
He cannot—
He can't breathe.
“—Seonghwa-sii, listen to my voice.”
He tries, he tries so hard but like everything else—
It fades in and out—
“Seonghwa-ssi, look at me—”
He glances up through hazy eyes, trying to see through the blur.
“Breath with me, c'mon, deep breath. Just like that, yeah. One more. One more—you're doing wonderful.”
“What was the color of the cups you drank coffee out of at my house?”
Seonghwa tries to think as he follows the rise and fall of Yeosang's chest, only to falter.
“We didn't—” He whispers, wet eyes finally focusing on Yeosang's face, so close he could see the birthmark at the corner of his eye clearly, “We had tea. You don't keep coffee at home anymore…”
Yeosang lets out a relieved little sound before suddenly gathering Seonghwa in his arms, squeezing him once before freezing. Slowly, he lets go, a sheepish expression on his face.
“Sorry… “
Seonghwa giggles. A wet, sad sound. “It's alright. Thank you so much, Yeosang-ssi.”
He smiles wide, “Gotta do what I gotta do. What kind of firefighter would I be, then?”
Seonghwa laughs again, nodding.
Yeosang lets him calm down some more before bringing him water, and asking him to freshen up. They again make the short walk back to his house, not wanting to leave the kids alone for so long.
Seonghwa wraps the shawl tighter around himself as they near the door, trying to get his face to mold into one that shows happiness, something that won't put Jongho on full-alert.
As soon as he goes to push the door open, Yeosang grabs his wrist. He looks back, and the man drops his arm instantly, Adam's apple bobbing hard as he swipes his thumb across his nose before he glances up at him.
“Yeosang—”
“Move in with us.”
Seonghwa startles. His brain shutting down for a moment before he comes back online. “Excuse me?”
Yeosang sighs, chewing at his bottom lip before finally giving up and turning to look at him fully, his eyes wide and imploring.
“Move in with me and Wooyoung,” He says, voice firm like steel, “at least until you find another place that's solid.”
Seonghwa feels indignant, cheap—
“I don't know why you think you can—”
“My father used to beat my mother.” Seonghwa gasps, eyes widening like saucers as the man in front drops his head down so far, his chin meets with his chest. “Okay? When we left, we had to switch many places until we ended up in my mom's car and she got a really bad cold— really bad. We both ended up in the hospital and the child services took— they took me away from her.”
Yeosang is shaking, just a little and Seonghwa doesn't think it's the cold.
“And so—” Yeosang takes in a deep breath, nose turning red from the wind outside as he looks down the street, “take this offer, please? Just until you can find a safe place to move to. I would still understand if you say no.”
Snow drifts slowly down, falling onto Yeosang's hair, his lashes.
Seonghwa doesn't know how to deal with what he's been offered.
“And if I say yes—”
“I wouldn’t mind. It's just me and Wooyoung,” Yeosang shrugs, the motion making some snow flutter off his shoulder, “and the house is big enough to fit you and Jongho. I am not offering charity, Seonghwa-ssi. Just a temporary solution.”
He hears Jongho’s high-pitched laughter, muffled by the door. Hears Wooyoung’s screaming laughter follow it, harmonizing together like one melody of joy. And his heart lurches.
He feels like he's making a huge mistake but he still nods. “Can I— can I think about it?”
Yeosang doesn't light up like he expected him, he nods— slow and tempered, like he understands the hesitance. Seonghwa clutches harder at his shawl as the other man brushes past him to open the door for him, gesturing for him to go in.
“We’ll be here,” He hears behind him, Yeosang's voice low, “even if you choose not to stay, Seonghwa-ssi.”
And that—
With Hongjoong no longer his and Mingi far away, was the only consolation he had received in a while.
Tears burned his eyes, as he nodded jerkily.
They stayed for a while before Wooyoung grew so tired that he fell asleep right on the floor, surrounded by toys and baubles. Seonghwa bid Yeosang goodnight, and trudged down to their home for the second time this evening.
“Why'd he come over?” Jongho says on the way over, making Seonghwa freeze. “I saw his car leave. Why won't he leave us alone?”
Seonghwa swallows down thickly, “You can't say that… it's— it's his house, too, Jongho. And he's your father.”
“You've been more of a father to me than he ever was.”
“Jongho!” He scolds as they reach their door, reaching into his pocket for the keys. Jongho just shrugs, like he doesn't quite believe he did anything wrong.
And did he really? Seonghwa thinks, because when had Hongjoong ever stepped up for him? Guilt twists in his stomach, as he opens the door. Jongho steps in first, his back is hunched over and he looks so small.
Seonghwa doesn't wait before he's gathering him up in his arms.
“Oh, baby,” He sniffles, clutching the boy to his chest, rubbing over his back. “Oh, my baby.”
And he doesn't explain. Jongho seems like he doesn't need explaining, either, as he just lets himself curl up to his chest like he did when was a baby.
He's about to sleep when he sees it.
Hongjoong:
*attachment* 12:32AM
*attachment* 12:32AM
*attachment* 12:32AM
These are all close to your work and Jongho’s school. 12:33AM
Pick one, and I’ll send you the deposit. 12:34AM
Don’t worry about paying me back. 12:45AM
If rent’s an issue, let me know. 12:45AM
Seonghwa stares and stares, sitting on the edge of his bed in his nightclothes, clutching at his phone like a lifeline. He tries to breathe but it’s hard with the pain in his chest and the growing lump in his throat. He stares until his eyes fill up with his tears, stares until he starts to sob. Stares until he ends up on the floor somehow, until his eyes can’t anymore, until he can’t cry anymore.
He misses him so, so much.
He never thought when he married him that he would have to live a life without the man, and every day of not finding him brushing his teeth in the bathroom in the morning, of never getting a call from him asking about dinner, of never seeing him play baseball with Jongho again as he prepares lemonade in the kitchen eats away at his soul.
He gets up slowly, dropping his phone on the floor and walks towards the closet. In a small box in the corner are old clothes, faded in color but still carrying the scent of a certain cologne, well-loved and well-worn. He unties his sleep robes, dropping them on the floor and picks up a green hoodie. Or it was green, now faded until it looks grey and the scattering of what seems like font on its back is no longer discernable. Seonghwa brings it to his nose, takes in a long, stuttering breath and almost starts crying again.
He puts it on, and walks to the opposite side of the bed to his. He only has enough strength left in him to let himself fall down on the soft mattress, curling up into himself. The scent of the cologne filling up his senses.
And he falls asleep like that, too tired to drag the blanket up.
I was dancing in the rain
I felt alive and I can't complain
But now take me home
Take me home where I belong
I can't take it anymore
________________________________________________________
Hongjoong:
Tuesday, 3rd December, 2026
*attachment* 12:32AM
*attachment* 12:32AM
*attachment* 12:32AM
These are all close to your work and Jongho’s school. 12:33AM
Pick one, and I’ll send you the deposit. 12:34AM
Don’t worry about paying me back. 12:45AM
If rent’s an issue, let me know. 12:45AM
You:
Today, 8th December, 2026
We moved out
Keys are under the flowerpot
__________
Are you sure you want to block Hongjoong?
YES NO
__________
Are you sure you want to block Hongjoong?
YES NO
____________________________________________________________________
Seonghwa watches as Yeosang dusts off his beanie before pulling it back on, looking down at a couple cardboard boxes stacked on top of each other, “Are these the last ones?”
He smiles, nodding with his arms resting on his hips. “That’s all.”
The past decade and a half, packed away and neatly labelled. All ready to be stowed away in Yeosang’s basement for the meantime. He feels the back of his eyes burn but he doesn’t let the tears fall.
The kids are playing in the snow in the back, Wooyoung’s laughter echoing around the street, spreading warmth down his heart.
He bends down to pick up the boxes, only to have his hands be gently dislodged by strong, rough hands, used to hard work. He glances up, still bent down and looks right into Yeosang’s light browns, spiced honey that he can immediately feel cloying his mouth. The other man is smiling a crooked, soft smile and his eyes are so earnest that–
He immediately pulls away. Yeosang picks up all three boxes like it doesn’t weigh anything, the muscles in his arm budging against his sweater sleeves and starts to walk back across the street.
He looks back, just once. Sees the window of what used to be his bedroom, the stupid garden gnome that Hongjoong bought him as a gag gift for his birthday and the railing where Jongho had hit his head when he was eight.
Heart heavy, he turns away.
__________________________________
Seonghwa tries his best to blend into the rhythm of Yeosang's family, whose space they have invaded. Yeosang gave Jongho his own room, shutting down all of his complaints and telling him a young boy of his age needed privacy. Something about taking even that away from his baby boy hurt his heart enough that he reluctantly agreed. Yet Wooyoung has also taken over Jongho's room, sleeping and playing in there since they arrived, completely making Jongho's space his own and the older boy doesn't seem to mind.
Yet—
The bed in the guest room he's taken over is too firm. He finds it hard to fall asleep, the scents too different for him, the space too big and too unfamiliar.
He turns over to his side again, watching the sky outside the window. It's dark, and the clock reads 4:15AM. His fatigue feels bone-deep and he still cannot bring himself to shut his eyes.
Perhaps… Perhaps, he could make breakfast. He's taken over cooking in the house because he has to pay back somehow, but Yeosang thwarts all his attempts by butting in to help if he's not at work and he always leaves early in the morning with breakfast put away into little containers, early enough that Seonghwa doesn't catch him and quiet enough that even through his half-awake state, he can't hear him move about the space downstairs.
Wooyoung has been a joy, however, because usually Yeosang would drop the boy off at his aunt's on his way to work but these days, he sleeps in and the boy is so much happier for it. So is Jongho.
Because he no longer has to contend with the fact that his father basically kicked him out of his home, too busy playing the perfect big brother. Seonghwa's heart clenches when he remembers Jongho's reaction when he sat him down to explain to him they would be moving.
His heart is thumping against his chest, and Jongho watches his reaction closely as he processes what he's been told.
Your father wants us to move out.
Jongho had cried. He is glad he did because he doesn't know what he would do with himself if his baby boy had tried to be strong about that, too. If he hadn't given a reaction beyond acceptance. Yet he had cried.
The pillow beneath his cheek grows wet as he thinks back to it.
Jongho clutches at him, little, stuttering sobs escaping his mouth and getting muffled into Seonghwa’s worn sweater.
“Why does—” Jongho hiccups, the sound pulling a soft sob from Seonghwa, “Why does dadda hate us so much, mama? What'd I do?”
And that “what did I do” immediately has him pulling Jongho from the cocoon of his arms, the boy's face red and cheeks wet with tears, the pain in his eyes makes Seonghwa struggle to hold back another onslaught of tears.
“It's not your fault.” He says, resolute and firm in at least one aspect of his life, “it was never, ever your fault, baby. It's not—”
And he struggles to say the next part but it needs to be said, “it's not our fault.”
He sniffles, turning to press his face into the pillow, trying to muffle the soft sounds being pulled from his chest as he shudders.
He can't go on like this.
He gets up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed, heads into the bathroom outside in the hallway. He doesn't bother turning on the light as he splashes water on his face, holding onto the counter to breathe just for a little.
He'll not have Yeosang do another thing for him today. He'll make breakfast–
The light flicks on in the bathroom, and Yeosang– sleepy, shirtless and black sweats dropping dangerously off his hips, towel slung over one devastatingly broad shoulder– is just as surprised to find him standing there, water dripping off his face, and soaking the front of his shirt. It takes him a moment to look away, face flushing as he tries to look everywhere but at the other man.
Yeosang clicks online in a bit, and gives him a lopsided grin, like he’s still a little out of it.
“Morning, Seonghwa-ssi.”
The lisp makes his name sound too soft in Yeosang’s mouth, the deep gravel of it, sleep-heavy and tired, makes his heart clench in the most conflicting of ways and Seonghwa immediately has to leave.
“Good morning,” He says, a little too rushed before he tries to brush past the man, careful not to make any contact with the amount of muscles he’s confronted with. He almost falls down right on his face when he does a weird twisty maneuver to get around the man, and ends up pressed back to Yeosang’s side, a strong arm tight and secure around his waist. His face flushes.
Could this get anymore embarrassing–
“Careful, Seonghwa,” He freezes, the voice too close, too familiar with hot breath brushing over his ears that are probably so, so red right now–
He stands as he feels the arm loosen, unable to look back at the very shirtless man pressed like a wall of heat to his back, unable to speak with how dry his throat feels.
“Be safe.” He hears before the warmth enclosing him from behind disappears, followed by footsteps heading in the shower’s direction.
Seonghwa mostly calms by the time he hears the shower turn off in the kitchen, sipping slowly at his tea, another cup resting by his elbow, covered with a plate serving as a makeshift lid to keep the heat in.
What calmness he had conjured with sheer force of will disappears as Yeosang appears around the corner, freshly-showered and wet hair still dripping water into his sweater. He smells like aftershave, and the ocean, too, somehow.
He sees the cup by Seonghwa’s side and grins, a skip appearing in his steps. “You made tea?”
“And breakfast,” he gestures behind him, and the pleasant surprise on Yeosang’s face almost makes him preen outright. “It’s warm.”
Yeosang groans, looking at the side-dishes and the steam wafting off the eggs. “You’re an absolute angel, Seonghwa!”
“Thank you, Yeosang.” He smiles, a little lopsided as he notices Yeosang freezing when he says his name, “It’s not much compared to what you’ve done for us.”
He looks sheepish as he looks up from the food, but he owns it, giving him a grin.
“Join me?”
“I’m not used to eating so early. You can go ahead,” Seonghwa sips his tea as he watches him eat, feeling his heart calm for the first time in days.
He's in the midst of cleaning up when he hears footsteps behind him, “You can't sleep?”
He turns around, dropping the soapy kettle back into the sink, guilt taking hold of his heart.
“It's just new,” He tries, looking away. “I'll get used to it.”
“Is there something I can do to help you…” Yeosang leans his head down until he's looking up at him, lips upturned, “get used to it?”
Seonghwa hesitates, “The mattress is too… hard?”
Yeosang nods, huffing out a laugh, “My sister said the same thing when she stayed over. I'll switch the mattress with mine.”
Seonghwa startles, looking directly at Yeosang, “No, please, you shouldn't—”
Yeosang shakes his head, “I can sleep anywhere. Hell, concrete is better than the cots we have at the station. I knock out like a light even on those.”
Seonghwa's heart clenches, hurting. He doesn't know why but Yeosang's words cause him to almost cry. He's been crying so often these days, he thinks, and holds back.
“Are you sure?”
Yeosang nods, standing up taller and pulling out of his orbit, “I'll do it when I come back.”
Seonghwa nods, unable to find words to respond.
Yeosang grins then, just a little mischievous, “You're welcome, Seonghwa.”
And his ears turn red.
_________________________________
He's been putting this off for too long.
It's been so long, and he hasn't ever tried to reach out. He doesn't think that—
He doesn't think he's so important that he would even bother talking to him now. After all, it was Seonghwa who first became busy with his own life, too selfish to ever call back. To send a birthday card, or even do a check-in.
Mingi's number sits innocently on his phone, as he fidgets. He wants to call, but he can't quite bring himself to do it.
“Are you trying to telepathically send a text, or something?”
Seonghwa whips around, Yeosang's stepping into the living room with two mugs of steaming tea in his hands. There's a smile on his face that lets him know he's kidding. Yeosang puts the cups down on the tea table in front of them, then lets himself melt into the sofa opposite his.
“Just… thinking.” Seonghwa says, feels like he's had enough of it all and just sets his phone aside.
“Wanna talk about it?” Yeosang offers, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He lets out a soft groan when the movement causes his back to crack.
Seonghwa looks out the window to think, sees Yunho standing with movers and immediately looks away, eyes downcast. “It's complicated.”
“Well, try me,” Yeosang shrugs, putting his head in his hands, “I actually have nothing better to do today since you did all the cleaning, and it's still hours until dinner.”
Seonghwa giggles, glances up at the man and sees the way he looks so earnestly back at him, hesitating only a little.
“I… had a friend,” He confesses, looks down at his hands to fiddle with them, traces the ring finger on his left hand for a moment until he figures out what's happening and stops, “We lost touch a while ago. It was mostly because my marriage had… it had become my first priority. He was the only friend I made that stuck around through high school, college, job… and for a while, through marriage, too.”
“You miss him?” Yeosang asks, and Seonghwa can't stop himself before he starts to nod, clutching at his long skirt.
“He was precious to me, and… I didn't keep in touch.”
“So, get in touch.” Yeosang suggests, effortlessly and smoothly. Like the space Seonghwa had placed between them no longer mattered, when it did.
“I was the one who—” He groans a little, frustrated, “I don't think he'd appreciate me crawling back to him after the divorce.”
“He told you that?”
Seonghwa glares at Yeosang a little, “No, he didn't. I just know.”
The other man shakes his head, and extends one arm to pick up his cup of tea. “Well, ask him what he thinks. If he does think that, you don't spend the afternoon glaring holes into your phone and if he doesn't think that, you have someone precious back in your life.”
Then the other man just goes back to drinking his tea while looking out the window, leaving a stunned Seonghwa sitting on the sofa.
His phone sits innocently beside his tea cup as he goes to pick it up, tempting yet daunting.
_________________________________
Calling Mingi…
…
…
…
“Seonghwa?”
Seonghwa feels his throat clench, his eyes watering. He doesn't know what to say.
He knows he'll start crying the second he tries to talk.
“Seonghwa, is it you? Hello?”
Mingi's deep voice crackles against his ear through the phone, making him grab at the phone harder, heart beating against his ribcage like it wants to escape.
“Min—Mingi…” he's already lost the battle before he's started it, and he knows his friend can already tell he's crying.
“Hwa? Are you crying?” Mingi sounds frantic. He hears sounds come from the phone then, rustling and faintly, the sound of Mingi telling someone he's going out. “Seonghwa, hey, c'mon.”
“Mingi,” He gasps, taking in deep breaths to at least be able to speak, “I am sorry…”
“What? Hwa, could you stop crying, bub?” Mingi tries, and with the strain he hears in his voice, he knows he's close to crying, too. They were never too good at this whole ‘be calm' thing. The thought almost brings a smile out of him. “What happened?”
“I— I got divorced… “ Seonghwa says, because it's the one thing that truly comes to the forefront of his mind, hearing Mingi’s gasp in the background, “and— It's so lonely, Mingi. I'm all alone.”
“Oh, Hwa.” Mingi is crying now, too. “I'm here… I've always been here, you're never alone.”
That pulls a sob out of him, “I am sorry for not calling.”
Mingi sniffles, “Well, it's not just you. I could have tried harder but I thought you knew… I'd never leave you alone like that. ”
Seonghwa shudders, “He cheated on me, Minmin.”
Almost like a child complaining about a bully to his mother, Seonghwa breaks down and tells Mingi everything through tears. Mingi tries his best to console him, but they both agree on one thing at the end.
It's not his fault.
And that Mingi's coming back home to home after Christmas.
__________________________________
Wooyoung almost bounces with excitement as he watches Yeosang step closer to his hiding stop. The older pretends not to see his very obvious silhouette hiding behind the curtain, or his shoes poking out and walks away.
“Guess they're not here.” Yeosang drawls loudly, a grin breaking out on his face as Wooyoung’s barely restrained giggles echo in the space. Seonghwa can barely contain his own at the sound, secure in his hiding spot in the small cupboard under the stairs, just barely tall enough to allow him to stand a little hunched over.
Yeosang repeats this inspection several times, as all of them know how much the child wants to be the one seeking since the moment he initiated this little game of his. It makes the little gremlin laugh each time and give himself away. Soon, however, Yeosang clutches at him from behind, making Wooyoung’s shrieks echo around the house. Jongho laughs, too and while they're all distracted, Seonghwa steps out and makes sure no one notices his hiding spot—
He really hates playing the seeker.
They have Wooyoung start the countdown, and everyone starts to scramble off. Seonghwa waits just a moment behind the sofa.
“7… 6….”
He immediately gets up to run towards the cupboard, completely sure now that everyone's gone off hiding.
“5… 4…”
He feels a rush of excitement pulse through as he shoves himself into the small space, adrenaline rushing through his veins.
Then—
“3… 2…”
Heat— so warm and human— right behind him. He freezes.
“1… I'm coming!” Wooyoung calls out, voice muffled through the gate.
Seonghwa gulps as he turns around, and comes face to face with Yeosang, chest right in his face as he hunches a little. The other man is pressing his lips together to hold in a laugh, eyes twinkling with mirth at Seonghwa’s ticked-off expression.
“Hello, Seonghwa—” Yeosang whispers, voice light only for Seonghwa to clasp a hand over his mouth, realizing only moments later that now Yeosang's slightly chapped lips are pressed right against his palm.
He swallows, heart jackrabbiting against his ribcage. Yeosang's eyes curl into crescents right above his hand. Seonghwa is too shocked, and the space is so narrow that he can't quite get himself out of his predicament.
Outside, Wooyoung calls for Jongho. Inside, Yeosang steps closer, if that is possible.
Seonghwa flinches faintly as Yeosang raises his hand, bringing it up to his face. He still hasn't moved his bloody hand away from his mouth.
He feels the way Yeosang tucks a stray lock of hair that was hanging in front of his eyes behind his ears, and he jerks back, a sudden, stilted movement that finally causes him to drop the hand from the other man's mouth. Yeosang just smiles, like he didn't do anything but Seonghwa's heart protests the sentiment by actively trying to climb out of his chest.
He finally understands why the ribcage is a cage.
“Found you!” Wooyoung yells outside, almost inaudible over the sound of Jongho's giggles.
__________________________________
Christmas morning brings a weird sort of feeling to the air. Jongho settles Wooyoung down before he tries to get to his presents, and he has a lot so, he placates him with a game as both Yeosang and Seonghwa hurriedly make some breakfast.
Both the adults had spent the night of Christmas Eve prepping so much food that Jongho’s stomach already hurts a little when he thinks about eating it.
As Wooyoung gets into the little roleplay train conductor role he's given him, a movement outside the window catches his eye. It's not really a voluntary choice, more of a habit, developed over the years, honed into a reflex as he sees the grey car pull up into the driveway across the street, attuned to it.
It makes his chest feel tight as he watches Hongjoong step out, walk over to the passenger side door and open it to help his new beau out. He watches the way Yunho flushes, his dark hair windswept and his belly too big. He waddles towards the door with Hongjoong’s help like he can't quite walk right, needing the older man's wrapped around him to even function.
It's almost endearing in how ordinary it looks. Someone might even look at the scene and coo about what a sweet couple they make, how caring of a father Hongjoong is, how beautiful Yunho looks with the glow surrounding him.
And all Jongho can think about is how much time it would take before the light would leave Yunho's eyes the same way it did for his mama, carrying all the load of child rearing, working and maintaining the household all on his own.
It disgusts him and so, he turns away.
Wooyoung looks at him with a faint question, having already forgotten about the fact that without his guidance, his toy train is about to veer dangerously off the path.
“Hojongie! Hojongie!” The little kid babbles, stepping over his toys to hug Jongho around the neck, “Hojongie—”
“Yes!” He giggles, hugging the toddler back, “what is it?”
Wooyoung shies away a little into his chest, before poking one eye out. “Willunclehwafeedme?”
“Huh?”
Wooyoung squeals a little, a high-pitched sound that makes Yeosang glance up from where he's chopping up fresh fruit in the kitchen, only to sigh fondly and go back to it.
“Will your mama… “ Wooyoung widens his eyes comically wide, sticking his lips out the way he knows will always get him the overpriced, sweet snacks at the grocery store, “feed me breakfast?”
Jongho hums, pretending to think about it for a while long enough to make Wooyoung screech again, making him wince as he mourns his hearing.
“Okay, puppy,” He says, picking the boy up, “how about you ask him yourself?”
Wooyoung groans and screams the whole 1 minute walk to the kitchen, like he's being led to his execution for crimes of being too adorable.
Both the adults stop to observe the scene. Seonghwa closes the oven door, laughing as Yeosang puts down the knife on the cutting board.
“Hey, so,” Jongho starts, leaning away to escape from Wooyoung trying to bite him on his cheek, and the younger takes revenge by sinking his teeth into his shoulder instead, making him wince, “Wooyoung wants to ask you something, mama.”
Yeosang does the thing he does sometimes, when he's both amused and surprised, eyebrows raising up in a quirky manner as he makes an inquiring sound.
Seonghwa takes off the mittens he was wearing, leading down with his hands on his knees to be eye-level with Wooyoung.
“Hello, darling,” Seonghwa murmurs, soft and amused, “what is it?”
Wooyoung stops thrashing in Jongho’s grip, and unclenches his teeth from around the older boy's shoulder to slowly look up at Seonghwa, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open like he wasn't just trying to bite a chunk off Jongho's shoulder.
Seonghwa almost laughs but holds back, eyes twinkling like stars.
Wooyoung brings his hands up to his face, shy and flushes with all the attention on him.
“Will you feed me, uncle Hwa?” Wooyoung asks softly, suddenly capable of both normal speech rate and manners that of a human child, and not a teething wolf cub.
Seonghwa huffs out a deep chuckle, reaching out to pinch Wooyoung’s cheeks. “Of course, little one.”
“Hey, where's my pinch? I thought you loved my cheeks, mama!” Jongho dramatically proclaims, pouting, and making Seonghwa laugh some more.
Seonghwa pretends to think for a moment before he pouts, tugging at Wooyoung’s cheeks a little, “I can't help it, baby.”
Jongho gasps, “Betrayed! By my own mother!”
Seonghwa giggles, then reaches out to press a kiss to his cheek, then Wooyoung's. “Both of you are so adorable, darlings.”
Jongho grins wide, glancing back at the way Yeosang watches them all interact with fond eyes, leaning against the counter with his hip propped up against it, arms folded. Seonghwa turns and almost falters a little at the image, before busying himself with preparing pancakes.
Later, they're all stuffed to the brim with food and Seonghwa’s wiping blueberry jam off Wooyoung’s mouth with a napkin when Yeosang clears his throat.
“So, there's still a little daylight out,” Everyone waits patiently for him to finish, “Who's up for building a snowman?”
He wiggles a little carrot in his other hand, like a peace offering.
So, they end up outside. The kids are building something vaguely cylindrical, as the adults focus on making their snowman look as adorable as possible. Seonghwa even brings out some stowed away makeup to put blush on the snowman's cheeks'.
“You're good at this,” Yeosang comments, awed.
Seonghwa smiles faintly, “Yes, building a snowman on Christmas was the only thing that would calm Jongho down.”
Yeosang frowns, glancing at how Jongho laughs loudly when the new ball of snow he's sitting on top of their ‘snowman’ rolls right off. “He doesn't seem like a fussy kid.”
“He isn't,” Seonghwa mumbles, looking over at his son having fun with love so startlingly clear in his eyes that Yeosang looks away, “it's just Christmas was always hard. Hon-… his father would always be doing overtime.”
Now he wonders how much of his absence was actually work, and not something else.
“He missed him.” Yeosang muses, though it doesn't need saying. Seonghwa hums, stepping back to look at his handy work proudly. The snowman has an old tie as a scarf, a cute carrot nose and olives as his eyes. Yeosang had used a leaf as a mouth and the blush made it appear too cute–
“Seonghwa.”
The voice makes Seonghwa freeze. Yeosang stands taller as he glares behind him. Jongho clenches his fist to the side, trying to step forward only to stop as Wooyoung wraps himself around his leg, unsure about the presence of this new man.
Hongjoong stands there like he doesn't notice the atmosphere growing heavier because of his arrival, waits there in his dark jacket and doesn't even bother acknowledging the presence of anyone but Seonghwa.
“You're not answering my texts, or my calls.”
Seonghwa feels the ache in his heart return as he turns to face him, wanting to run back inside, and hide. He can’t bring himself to look up yet.
“I didn't know I needed to.” Seonghwa says, feeling disconnected from the reality of the situation, hands growing numb by his side.
Hongjoong huffs out an annoyed laugh, “What do you mean, Hwa? I need to know where you’ve gone.”
Seonghwa finally looks up, and then almost wishes he hadn't. Hongjoong looks like he's stolen some of the glow Yunho carries around like he owns it, his eyes sparkling and his hair dyed dark. There's a harsh twitch of muscle in his jaw that signals his annoyance.
He looks like he always has. Yet Seonghwa can't even recognize himself in the mirror anymore.
“It means we no longer have any need to talk, Hongjoong-ssi.” His voice lands unfamiliar to his own ears, and the added formality makes Hongjoong’s eyes blaze. “And you don’t need to know where we are.”
Hongjoong clenches his jaw, looking off to the side like this is all very inconveniencing and he finally notices Jongho standing there. Yeosang shifts just slightly, dark hair falling into his eyes, hiding his feelings but continues standing behind Seonghwa like an overly-trigger-happy doberman.
Hongjoong sighs like Seonghwa’s being unreasonable, throwing a childish tantrum.
“We still have Jongho—”
“I remember my lawyer telling me that you willingly signed off his full custody to me.” Seonghwa doesn't back down, but there's a strain in the corners of his eyes, his fists are clenched tight and he’s shaking just slightly. “We have nothing to talk about.”
“I did it because he's attached to you,” Hongjoong almost shouts, his tone angry, accusatory like it's somehow Seonghwa’s fault. “And Yunho can't handle the stress of another child right now.”
Anger wraps its claws around Seonghwa's throat, making the backs of his eyes burn. He wishes his anger didn’t always make him seem so weak.
“Is that what you tell yourself?” Seonghwa laughs a wet laugh, hates himself a little as a tear escapes one eye, rolling down his face and finally hanging on by sheer will at his chin. “Leave, Hongjoong-ssi.”
“What's with this sudden formality?” Hongjoong grits past his teeth and pushes forward, almost into Seonghwa’s personal space, “We were married for 15 years, Hwa.”
Yeosang steps forward from behind Seonghwa, eyes blazing behind his hair. He’s close enough Seonghwa can feel the heat of his body radiate.
“Yes,” he says, swallowing down the lump in his throat, “We were. Until you went and cheated on me.”
“Stop acting like that,” Hongjoong rubs his hands down his face, so close they almost brush up against Seonghwa, who steps back, doesn’t want to feel his touch in any capacity. Hongjoong notices that.
He always does, when it matters to him.
“What the hell, Hwa?” he whispers, annoyance warping into anger as he reaches out to clutch at his wrist. “I’ve never hurt you like that. What the fuck?”
“Please, let go,” He gasps, trying to pull his hand back but Hongjoong just clenches down harder. Seonghwa almost sobs, tugging his hand back, unable to handle feeling his touch on his skin. “Let go, Hongjoong-ssi.”
“Why?” His eyes glance behind him at something, turning harder, voice getting lower in rage, “You don’t want my touch anymore because you’ve gone and found another cock?”
Seonghwa sobs outright at that, trying to get him to let go, “Hongjoong, stop, stop, stop–”
Hongjoong jerks him once, “No, tell me–”
He’s not sure what happened but one moment Hongjoong is holding his wrist with a painful grip, and the next moment he sees a blur before Hongjoong’s down on his ass in the snow, groaning and holding his nose. Yeosang moves in front of him. Wooyoung whoops from somewhere to the side. Yeosang turns his head towards the sound, “Jongho, be good. Take Wooyoung and go inside.”
Moments later, he hears the front door shut.
“Get off my property,” Yeosang almost growls, and Seonghwa’s eyes widen when he sees Hongjoong pull the hand covering his nose away, stained with blood. “Before I call the cops.”
“You punched me!” Hongjoong sounds enraged, pushing off the snow to stand.
Yeosang tilts his hand, long hair falling to the side.
“On my property.” Yeosang says, voice calm. “Where you came in, uninvited and scared our kids and harassed Seonghwa. Get lost while I’m still trying to save you from losing what little respect you have left in Jongho’s eyes as his father.”
Hongjoong looks savage, blood dripping all over his mouth and his eyes feral.
“Not that you deserve ever being called that.”
Hongjoong almost swings at Yeosang but it seems his words register in his head because he swallows harshly, and stalks off, wiping the blood off his face with the back of his hand.
Seonghwa shudders, small choked off sobs forcing their way out of him as he shakes, clutching his hand against his chest.
“You're okay,” Yeosang immediately hugs him, his tone is so soft and gentle, almost a little stilted like he's holding back cries of his own, “I've got you.”
Seonghwa lets himself go, let's Yeosang hold him up, heart shattering and ribs hurting. Yeosang just tightens his hold.
“I've got you, Seonghwa.”