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Had I bowed before God in prayer
He wouldn’t have left me like this
But I bowed...
I bowed only to you instead
That’s why he left me and went away
· ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The sun had settled over the horizon, sinking behind the ocean like a ship wrecked. The sand had been warmed by the sun, and felt soothing beneath him as the water lapped at his feet.
Seonghwa rubbed a hand over his stomach, bare and showing through his top— Barely showing but inside of him, there was a life growing, being nurtured by his body. Part him, part his love.
The thought made his heart soften into mush, like cotton candy. So flimsy, so malleable. He would be scared, if not for Hongjoong.
Like their souls had become one, Hongjoong slid down into place beside him, the sun casting shadows on the sand behind them, twisting them into one being, one soul.
Seonghwa felt his heart jump as his gaze fell on the ginger-haired man beside, grinning as he held out water for him. The wind kept playing with his hair, making it messier than it had been to begin with, and the slight chill in the air had flushed his cheeks. Eyes so bright as they looked at Seonghwa, he wondered if the entirety of the universe was contained within them.
So handsome, it was unfair.
Seonghwa took the water, and leaned forward to press a kiss to Hongjoong's cheek which grew even more flushed at the action, as his grin widened.
“Hey, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong whispered, the waves almost drowning out his voice. Seonghwa, however, was attuned to him in a way that was instinctual. “I think I have a crush on you, darling.”
“Yeah?” He asked conspiratorially, lips pressed together in an effort to contain his smile, brushing their noses together, making the other man break down into giggles. “Is that why you married me and got me pregnant?”
Hongjoong's eyes softened into an expression that held love the intensity of which made Seonghwa’s throat feel parched.
Hongjoong's eyes glanced down once, before he felt warmth against his lips.
Seonghwa's heart lurched, and so did he—All the way into Hongjoong's arms, wanting nothing more than to be merged into one.
Hongjoong pulled back, almost reluctantly, eyes misty. “I love you. I love you so much, Hwa.”
Unable to form any words, Seonghwa just kissed him again, trying to express with his body what he could not in words.
I love you I love you I love you I love you—
His wrist had bruises in the shape of fingerprints. He took a deep breath in— tried to, at least. It stuttered, chest refusing to expand and throat constricting enough to make his eyes water.
He sunk deeper into the bed, wanting nothing more than to be swallowed whole. Yeosang had left a pain-relief bruise cream on his bedside table while he'd been in the shower. He picked it up, then just put it right back. The thought of the man, of what he had witnessed, had felt the need to stop—
It made him feel pathetic.
A sob forced it's way out of his throat, the sound echoing around the now empty house.
Yeosang had taken the kids to see his sister and mother for Christmas. The offer had been extended to him as well but he— he didn't think he could face him, face his mother, face their family and admit to their face that he had been taking advantage of the other man's trauma, his generosity and had almost gotten him hurt today.
Because he knew how vicious Hongjoong could be, and he knew he would find a way to get back at Yeosang somehow.
There had always been a mean streak in his ex-husband—he just had stood by and ignored it for as long as it had not shown it's ugly face in their home.
All his fault—
It started slow, with that one sob forcing it's way out but soon, his shoulders shook with the effort not to lurch forward and fall on the floor below with how hard each sob wrecked through his body.
Seonghwa cried. Cried for the young man who had dreamt so big, of a big family and a loving husband, staying together no matter the difficulties that the cruel harsh world threw at them. Cried for the Hongjoong he fell in love with, the man who would bring him flowers everyday, who stayed up with him on nights an infant Jongho would not stop crying, the man who cried like a baby when Jongho had gotten his first bad cold and had been put on the incubator.
Most of all, he cried for his baby boy who deserved a present father, who deserved a stronger mother, who deserved everything in the world and had yet been forced to shoulder the weight of their failures on his young shoulders. His poor little baby.
Seonghwa shuddered, throat closing in and eyes blurring his vision, hands clutching at his shirt like that would somehow make it easier to breath.
His boy, his poor little boy—
· ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
He woke to the feeling of something wet gliding over his wrist, careful, warm fingers rubbing softly over the areas that ached the most.
Seonghwa didn't know when he had fallen asleep, but he was lying sideways on the bed now, the pillow carefully adjusted his head. A weight was situated on the bed in front of him, his wrist lying on a lap as the hands worked the cream in.
His eyes hurt to open, but he did.
Jongho sat quietly, too quietly for the way tears slid down his face and onto his lap. He made sure to keep his face turned slightly so, they wouldn't get on his wrist. The tube Yeosang had given him earlier sat on his bedside table, visibly used.
Seonghwa wondered if heart attacks felt worse than the ache the sight brought him, chest constricting.
Jongho jerked slightly when he lifted the hand he was rubbing the cream onto, the surprise shocking him enough he let a cut-off strangled sob escape his lips before he resolutely pressed them shut.
There didn't exist a pain worse than this for him.
Seonghwa gently cupped Jongho's face, using his thumb to wipe away the new onslaught of tears that flowed out of those sweet, innocent eyes like a waterfall.
Jongho heaved a deep breath in through his nose, shoulders shaking. Seonghwa felt his eyes fill up with more tears, surprised he still had more to cry.
He used his hand to pull Jongho down, down and into his chest. The poor baby immediately turned and buried himself in his chest, soft sobs getting muffled by his shirt.
“Jongho, my baby,” He whispered, rubbing his back, “it's okay, baby. I'm here.”
Jongho's shoulders shook more, “Mama… “
“I'm here, baby, mama's here,” Seonghwa kept repeating it like a mantra, “No one can hurt you while I'm here.”
Jongho clutched tighter at him, shuddering.
He lets him sob, lets him be a child needing his parent's comfort. Repeating ‘I'm here’ like that would erase Hongjoong’s presence, his harsh words, the bruises on his wrist—
When Jongho’s sobs turn to sniffles, he just presses a kiss onto the crown of his hair.
“I hate him.” Jongho whispers into his chest, hiccuping just a little, “I hope he gets run over—”
“Shh,” Seonghwa shushes, rubbing between the boy's shoulders, “Don't let him get to you.”
“I hate him,” Jongho repeats, nevertheless, voice raw. And Seonghwa just lets him have this.
One small childish rebellion for all the ways he had failed his baby.
Yeosang gets off the floor outside Seonghwa’s bedroom once he can no longer hear Jongho's sniffles. He checks his phone— 2AM. At least he has a late shift tomorrow.
His shoulders slump, defeated as he stares at the closed door. He failed, again— he brushes his thumb against his nose that had started burning suddenly, walking over to check on Wooyoung.
Covered in his Green Lantern blanket, with only a tuft of dark hair visible over the top, Wooyoung is fast asleep, tired from a day's worth of play and travel. Yeosang steps into the room quietly. He gently pulls the blanket back from where Wooyoung had wrapped it around his nose, and immediately the soft wheezes that filled the room before stop as Wooyoung’s mouth falls open in sleep. He shakes his head, heart fond yet heavy.
His son shouldn't have had to see him be violent.
He quickly wipe at his eyes, wiping away at the tears that threaten to spill. Wooyoung garbles something in his sleep, making him huff out a laugh despite it all.
He takes in a deep, stabilizing breath before he presses a kiss to Wooyoung’s curls and flicks off the lamp, closing the door behind him as he steps out.
· ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The crazy days, city lights
The way you'd play with me like a child
Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?
Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul?
· ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Find the power when the force applied to move a box at velocity 3m/s is 30N.
Jongho hurriedly writes down the formula, and starts to solve the question, mind sharp and focused when suddenly he feels a sharp pain in his side.
“Ow!” Jongho clutches at his side, a giggle alerting him instantly to the perpetrator. The eight-year-old giggles while he holds the hand clutching the train toy part he had tried to stab Jongho with away from him, “Youngie!”
“It's Hojongie's fault!” Wooyoung declares, screeching and laughing as Jongho tackles him to the ground, tickling his sides, “you weren't listening to me!”
Jongho stops as the younger starts getting a little overwhelmed, pulling him up into a hug, “Well, I'm studying, you dummy!”
“You a dummy!”
Jongho sighs, as Wooyoung scrambles to hold him tighter.
“What did you want, you menace?” He asks, rocking them a little as they sit on the living room floor.
“Look!” Wooyoung points at where they could see half of the front door, and the shoe rack they all put their shoes in. Seonghwa stood in front, his skirt fluttering around him as he walked in circles in front of the door, wringing his hands like a ticked-off housewife. “Uncle Hwa's been like that for a while now.”
Jongho’s eyebrows go up, seeing the way his mother almost hyperventilates. He looked toward the stairway, hoping Yeosang would come down and sit him down but the man had come home from a rough shift. There was a fire in a big hotel in the city, and he had been there working until the early hours of dawn. He had come home when they were already having breakfast, eyes distant as he greeted them before promptly falling asleep in his bed, not even changing his clothes. Seonghwa had since strictly instructed them to keep quiet.
Wooyoung pulls at his shirt's collar, and he looks down at him, eyes wide and worried, “Is he okay?”
“He will be.” Jongho pats his hand, making him groan when he tries to ruffle his hair.
“Bad Hojongie! Meanie!”
The doorbell rings.
· ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Seonghwa doesn't know what to expect. This is a man he's known for more of his life. If not for Hongjoong, perhaps they'd never even have separated for the bit they did.
Yet he's still taken aback.
Mingi has grown into himself, age defining him in ways youth could not bear to. He fears to think of what would have happened to the general population of their small town if Mingi had walked through the streets with the sharp assurance with which he steps through the door, the crow's feet around his eyes just make him look mature, and the way he is dressed so sharply, large trenchcoat barely fitting on their coat hanger as he takes it from him.
Then—
It's just them, standing together. Facing each other.
Seonghwa and Mingi.
Mingi and Seonghwa.
He didn't know who stepped forward first— all he knew was that they clutched at each other like twin halves of a soul finally reuniting, like a latch finally sliding shut. Someone sniffles loudly, and he thinks it's him but Mingi had never had any gift for keeping his emotions in check.
As he feels the large man shake against him, he almost smiles through the tears. Mingi always carried around emotions too big for his body, even as big as he was and it was just a testament to the amount of love he had in his heart.
“Minmin…” He whispers, clutching at his shirt, wanting nothing more than to sink into his warmth and never come out.
“Hwa—” Mingi chokes off into a soft sob, large hands wrapping him up like he was trying to take away all his pain through this one hug, “I missed you so much, Hwa.”
“Of— of course, you did,” He sniffles, rubbing his cheek on his shoulder, “You're the brawn and I'm the brain, remember? I assume you've been going around making stupid decisions left and right.”
Mingi laughs—a wet, sad sound.
“No more gold diggers this time, promise,” Mingi answers softly, pressing a kiss into his temple, making his breath hitch as a new flood of tears escapes his eyes.
“Good,” Seonghwa says, pulling back and cupping Mingi's face, wiping away at the tears on his cheeks, seeing the way he softened under his touch, “good. I'm glad.”
Mingi just lurches forward again, gathering him in his arms, breathing in deeply. They stay like that a while, swaying in each other's arms in front of the opened doorway like a pair of children.
He comes to when Mingi calls his name, a whisper. He hums, hiding his face into Mingi's shoulder so he doesn't have to look at the remnants of his past through the opened door, and feels the other get close to his ear to whisper.
“I meant it when I said I'll chop off Hongjoong’s cheating whore dick.”
Seonghwa chokes on his spit.
· ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Mingi's nose is still flushed red as he sits in the kitchen, watching Seonghwa flutter around the space like he owns it.
“Have you decided that you wanna live here?” Mingi asks, watching him put a kettle on the stove, “You look at home."
Seonghwa freezes for a moment, rubbing his palms onto his skirt before stopping abruptly like he thought better of it, busying himself with pulling cups out of the top cupboard.
He turns to face Mingi when he sets them down on the counter, breathing in deeply. Jongho and Wooyoung play games in the background, voices only loud enough to reach the kitchen. Seonghwa’s heart aches.
“I—” He starts, finding no words to express how he feels, rubbing one hand down his face as he leans back against the counter. “I want— I want my own place. Yeosang— Yeosang-sii said that it was a temporary thing,”
Mingi watches him carefully, glancing back as Wooyoung giggles loudly and Jongho groans, “Have you talked with him about it? The kids sure look like they're getting along.”
(Need the house empty by next weekend—
He'll be out of here soon, love—)
Seonghwa shakes his head, hands shaking slightly as he looks down at the water starting to simmer in the kettle. He rubs one palm on his skirt again before stopping, clutching at it instead.
“I don't wanna be kicked out again.” He whispers, voice pitched low, as if ashamed. “I don't want Jongho to… I don't want him to ever have to feel that way again, Minmin. Never.”
Mingi pushes the chair back, walking over to him. He puts a firm hand over his shoulder, “Neither of you deserve to feel that way, bub.”
Seonghwa glances up at him with eyes misty with tears, sniffling as he leans his head back, not wanting to cry more.
Enough crying.
“I've got a couple friends here, okay?” Mingi offers, putting the other hand on Seonghwa’s opposite shoulder and pushing him back slightly as he stands taller to struggle, “No, none of that. They've got houses they're willing to rent, and they owe me enough favors.”
“But you shouldn't have to—”
“I also thought I shouldn't get in your marriage,” Mingi says, voice stone-cold but not at him, “when that—”
Mingi glances back, makes sure the kids are busy before lowering his voice—
“When that son of a bitch was treating you and Jongho like shit,” Mingi almost growls, “I told myself that I would be overstepping, doing too much, destroying our friendship—”
Mingi takes a deep breath, hands gripping his shoulders tight.
“I'm tired of thinking of things I shouldn't do, Hwa,” He says, suddenly sounding tired, and worse of all, guilty, “I'm only going to think of things I should do, for you as my best friend, and do them, I will. Enough.”
Seonghwa feels the way his lips pull into a pout, quivering against his will as wetness blurs his vision. He takes in a shuddering breath, nodding, making the tears gathering in his eyes run down his cheeks. “Okay, alright….”
Mingi nods back at him.
“Okay…”
· ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
“You care about him,” Mingi observes as he chops vegetables for the salad, watching as Seonghwa looks up with his brows furrowed as the kids suddenly get a little louder, immediately hearing Jongho shushing the younger one before it grows quiet again.
“Who? Wooyoung?” Seonghwa smiles, stirring the sauce in the pan, “he gets a little loud sometimes but he's an angel. Adorable! He’s honestly so smart for his age—”
“Not the kid, Hwa,” Mingi smirks slightly, raising his brow before he glances up the stairs where Seonghwa had been, “his hot, firefighter dad.”
Seonghwa almost shrieks, hitting Mingi on the back of his head with each word he gets out as he whisper-shouts, “Shut— Shut your mouth, you idiot!”
“Hey, hey—”
Seonghwa just starts pinching him, continuing to whisper, “Song Mingi, you dog-shit eater, stop spewing your bullshit here—”
Mingi brandished his salad knife in retaliation, “Stop or I'll stab you, you bitch, stop—”
“...Good evening…”
They freeze— Seonghwa mid-pinching Mingi’s armpit, and Mingi with the back of the tomato-juice covered salad knife pressed against Seonghwa’s face.
Yeosang, sans shirt as was custom, stood in the door to the kitchen, Wooyoung clutched in one arm and one eyebrow-raised. Jongho tried to muffle his laugh behind him, cheeks protesting against the effort it took. Wooyoung was quiet for once, eyes fixed on Mingi like he was examining an insect under a probe.
Mingi recovered first, pushing Seonghwa away and making him yelp, almost pulling a curse out from him before the other bit down on his tongue.
He offered his hand, the one not covered in tomato juice to Yeosang, who took it in a firm hold, shaking once. His eyes were half-shut, like he was barely processing the situation.
Mingi smirked.
“Song,” Seonghwa groaned in embarrassment from where he was back to stirring the sauce, “Song Mingi. Nice to meet you…”
“Kang Yeosang,” Yeosang’s deep voice still carried some of the roughness of sleep, and Seonghwa felt a shiver run down his spine. “I've heard a lot about you,”
“All good things I presume,” Mingi grinned, stepping back and going back to chopping vegetables for the salad.
“Of course.”
Yeosang suddenly looked like he understood where he was and in what state, and Seonghwa saw how, while he didn't outwardly show any change in expression, his ears turned a deep red, and his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat, thumb coming up to brush against his nose before he slowly lowered himself to put Wooyoung back on the floor.
“I'll just—” He says, vaguely gesturing as a way of explanation before he's gone upstairs in a flash, his feet thundering on the steps.
Seonghwa giggles, and stops as soon as he notices Mingi's raised eyebrow.
Wooyoung’s eyes narrow.
Mingi makes dinner a whole different affair than it usually is, making Jongho’s giggles fill the space around them, and Seonghwa stares at his boy with tears barely held back. Yeosang cups his wrist, once, under the table when it gets a little bad and he immediately leaves, with the pasta refill being an excuse.
When he comes back, he shoots him a grateful look and the other just smiles, slow and lazy, like it should be expected to be looked after.
Seonghwa feels his throat tighten but it's not because of tears this time.
· ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Mingi waits at the door, coat shrugged on and waits for Seonghwa to come down from his room where he's putting on his, just so he can walk him to his car. His chest feels warm, content to have his best friend back. Sounds of the tap running and dishes flattering echoes in the back, light conversation whispering beneath the sound as Yeosang and Jongho clean up after dinner.
Mingi startles when he looks down to see Wooyoung standing in front of him. He hadn't seen him walk over. The whole night he'd noticed the worried glances Yeosang had thrown his kid's way, almost like it was unusual for him to be quiet. Seonghwa had even asked him once if he wanted him to feed him and the Wooyoung’s eyes had grown so greedy for a second that he thought he would say yes only for him to pick up his spoon and start eating on his own. He had refused to look at Mingi for most of the time.
“Hey, kiddo,” Mingi smiles, crouching down to eye level, “Feeling better now?”
Wooyoung stares at him with only what he can perceive as antagonism, and Mingi pouts.
“Uncle Hwa is mine,” he says, tiny chest puffing out and high-pitched voice stone-cold, “and Hojongie, too.”
Mingi’s eyebrows raise up in surprise, lips barely holding back a smile.
“Is that so?” He asks, seriously. Wooyoung nods once, resolute.
“Well, you better keep it that way, bub.” He says, smiling as Wooyoung’s brows draw together, confused before he perceives what he says as a challenge and stomps over to the kitchen.
Seonghwa rushes down towards him, lips pulled into a smile.
Wonder if he knows he's Wooyoung's, he thinks, grinning back.
· ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Everybody told me love was blind
Then I saw your face and you blew my mind
Finally, you and me are the lucky ones this time
· ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
He wrings his hands, shuffling around the dinner table. He's set it all up to perfection— Jongho's gone to Mingi's for the night, he's made three different types of meat dishes and all of Hongjoong's favorite sides.
He's even spent half the morning in the shower, trying very hard not to get a cut while he shaved his arms, legs, underarms. He's wearing the pretty lingerie he bought on a shopping trip with Mingi on the weekend, and he even spent time carefully doing his makeup, light and pretty, accentuating his lips and doe-eyes the way Hongjoong likes.
It's just—
It's almost past midnight, and Hongjoong had said he'd be home by nine. He's afraid to call, he is. That's only for emergencies. He could be in a meeting with his boss, or he could be busy with some extra work.
The promotion means a lot to him, and it's soon, he had said.
So, he waits. Pops open the bottle of wine, pours half a glass even when he knows how it slows his brain down, makes him want—
Seonghwa chokes as the door opens, heart in his throat as Hongjoong rounds the corners, pulling at his tie and loosening it with his fingers in a way that makes heat pool in his stomach.
“Joongie?” He calls out, voice soft like dough, blood rushing hot in his veins like magma.
Hongjoong looks up like he's surprised to find him there, and he feels inexplicable pain even as he struggles to comprehend why that would be.
“Why aren't you sleeping?” Hongjoong's voice is low, monotone. His gaze lingers on the empty wine glass in his hands. “Were you drinking?”
Seonghwa flushed, putting it on the table, “No… just a little, was waiting for you…”
Hongjoong frowns, but he draws closer anyway as Seonghwa blinks slowly at him, hands coming to wrap around his waist, the heat of them going straight to his gut. Seonghwa steps closer, if possible.
“I've told you not to wait when I'm late, you know that, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong sighs slowly, eyes taking him in.
Seonghwa cups his hands around Hongjoong’s face, sighing at the way his hair is messy like he'd been running his hand through it, the way his lips are bitten and pink, the way he smells of musk and sweat. He works so hard, he thinks and leans closer, trying to get the scent imprinted onto his mind.
“Made dinner for you,” He says as a way of explanation, thumbing at Hongjoong's cheekbones, “All your favourites,”
Hongjoong's breath hitches. “Yeah?”
“And dessert, too…” Seonghwa slides one hand down to wrap around Hongjoong's at his waist, he guides it until Hongjoong shoves at his skirt to find smooth skin, burning to the touch, and drags his hand up until it comes into contact with something silky and lacy around his hips.
Hongjoong groans, grabbing at his hips hard.
“Fuck,” He breathes out, looking at Seonghwa before he glances up, “And Jongho?”
Seonghwa smiles, dizzy in the warmth of him, tunnel vision fixating on his lips, “At Mingi's! We're all al—”
Hongjoong’s expression grows stormy in the matter of seconds before he's grabbing at Seonghwa in a way that no longer feels good.
“What?” Hongjoong almost growls.
Seonghwa shakes, not understanding what he's done wrong. He gently tries to get Hongjoong to loosen his hold.
“At Mingi's,” He repeats, swallowing, “he wanted to play games! He's fine! It's Mingi—”
Hongjoong's eyes blaze as he finally lets go but not before he pushes him back slightly into the table, the wine glass that he'd placed at the edge of it falling over with the force and breaking.
“I've told you before,” Hongjoong pinches the bridge of his nose, like he's talking to an insolent child, “I've told you so many times not to leave Jongho with people I don't trust—”
“Mingi's my best friend! I've known him—”
Seonghwa stops as Hongjoong glares up at him from behind his hand, swallowing down his words as he tries to balance himself with his hands on the edge of the table.
“Fuck—” Hongjoong huffs, “I was going to sleep, now I have to go pick my goddamned son up!”
“Mingi can bring—”
“Just shut up with your Mingi, Mingi, Mingi—” Hongjoong groans again, digging into his pocket until he pulls out the car keys, “Fuck, you ruin everything.”
The door slams shut. He hears the engine start. The car drives off.
He wants to text Mingi to tell him to be ready but his knees give out, and he doesn't know why he starts sobbing.
After all, it was his fault.
· ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
He's nervous. He's nervous and trying to be subtle about it.
Yeosang's in the shower after another late night shift, but the kids are asleep right now and the house is quiet. He's put the kettle over the stove, and he's trying to breathe as he thinks about the news he's going to break to the man.
He had ambushed him as soon as he had stepped through the door. Yeosang's tired eyes had softened and crunched up, lips pulling into a smile that was equal parts surprise and tiredness.
“Can we talk?”
Yeosang froze for a second, expression turning blank before he nodded.
“Just let me shower, please.” He said, words slurring slightly.
“I'll make tea.”
And he had grinned ear to ear, reminding him a little of Wooyoung.
“You're an angel, thank you.”
The kettle whistles and he immediately pulls it off the stove, straining the tea into two cups just as the shower shuts off above.
He puts the cups onto the kitchen table, sitting down before he stands again, unable to stay still.
Yeosang steps into the kitchen, towel slung around his shoulders and sweatshirt wet in some places, sticking to skin. His eyes are still tired but he looks more alert. He almost falls down into the chair, knees feeling weak.
“Thank you for the tea,” Yeosang says, voice gravely, dragging a chair until it's facing Seonghwa's. He drops down on it, legs open, grabbing his cup off the table before he rests his elbows on his thighs, holding the cup with both hands.
Open, relaxed.
“Sorry.” Seonghwa says anyway.
Yeosang tilts his head, dark, wet strands falling into his eyes. “What for?”
“I always do these things,” He chuckles slightly, hands flailing somewhat before he picks his teacup off the table, trying to lighten the atmosphere and mostly to avoid the intensity of Yeosang's gaze, “Ruining your sleep—”
“Did I say that?” Yeosang says, low and gentle.
Seonghwa swallows, quickly glancing up from where he's busy trying to stare holes into the bottom of his cup to see the way Yeosang’s looking at him, not judging. Not harsh. Not glaring.
He takes a deep breath, “No…”
“Then don't assume, Seonghwa,” Yeosang says. “It must be important, whatever it is. You don't want the kids to hear?”
Seonghwa feels like some weight has been lifted from his shoulders, and he nods, now finally looking up.
“Well, not until anything’s finalized.” He whispers, brushing his hair behind his ear.
Yeosang nods slowly.
And Seonghwa finally starts to speak.
“Mingi's got a few friends,” He confesses, feeling shy under the onslaught of Yeosang's undivided attention, “and they have houses they're renting out,”
Yeosang shifts, one hand coming off the cup to rest on his knee as he takes the information in.
“And you want to check them out?” he asks, before taking a sip of his tea.
Seonghwa nods, mirroring him by taking a sip from his cup, slowly.
“Well, that's great,” He says, smiling slightly, “you made me think it was a bad thing.”
Seonghwa smiles, unable to explain that it did feel like it was a bad thing for him. He changes the subject.
“I was worried about Wooyoung,”
Yeosang shakes his head softly, fondly.
“He's a tough kid,” He promises, shrugging his shoulders, “he knows better.”
Seonghwa’s eyebrows furrow, “His mom…?”
“Left us,” He brings the hand on his knee to brush the thumb against his nose, “Don't know where she went, don't care to.”
Seonghwa nods. It's the coldest he had ever heard Yeosang's voice other than when he was talking to Hongjoong. Something in him urges to soothe, to shove at the walls that have suddenly come up between them.
“Well, I can bring Jongho over on weekends?” He prompts, feeling his heart stuck in his throat before he sees the smile that pulls at Yeosang's lips.
“Yeah, thank you,” He says, putting his cup on the table, folding his hands in between his legs, “that would help.”
Seonghwa smiles, “And if you're serious about putting him in my school, then he'll see me pretty often, too.”
Yeosang grins back at him, eyes crinkling and this time he knows it's the one that always brings mischief with it.
“Sounds like you're already missing us, Seonghwa.”
Seonghwa hides his blush in his tea cup.
· ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Wooyoung doesn't understand why his father insists on taking him to the store. He always goes with Jongho. He clutches harder at his dad's hand as he thinks of Jongho, missing him already. They were in the middle of a very important part of their game, too, with Jongho teaching him how to beat a level he'd been struggling with for so long. It seemed so easy for the older boy, everything seemed easy for Jongho.
To Wooyoung, it still felt hard. He thinks he will get it when he grows as tall as his dad one day. His dad always has it figured out.
“Dad~” He calls out, swinging their joined hands as he skips ahead, making Yeosang laugh as he leans down, scooping a hand around his waist before suddenly the ground disappears beneath his feet, and he screams, giggling.
Yeosang spins him once before he smooshes him to his side, adjusting until he can wrap his hands around his dad.
He calls him one more time.
“Yes, kiddo?” Yeosang says, tightening his hold around him before he drops a kiss on the crown of his head.
“Why didn't Hojongie come with us?”
Yeosang sighs, looking down at him with sad eyes.
“Well, I wanted to talk to you,” He says, softly, “just you and me, buddy.”
Wooyoung nods, understanding the seriousness of the situation.
“You know how Seonghwa and Jongho are living with us?” Yeosang continues, seeing Wooyoung nod before he continues, “Well, they might not do that soon.”
Wooyoung grows quiet. He thinks about no longer waking up to see Hojongie, and playing with him. No more Uncle Hwa feeding him breakfast and making his dad happy.
Wooyoung sniffles.
“Oh, baby, c'mere,” Yeosang hugs him close, rubbing his hand between his shoulders as they shake, “Let it all out, baby, it's alright.”
“Will they—” Wooyoung sobs into his jacket, “will they leave forever?”
Yeosang’s heart feels like it's been stabbed.
“No, no,” He reassures, kissing Wooyoung’s forehead, “Uncle Hwa said he'll bring him over on weekends, and there's no reason we can't visit either, right?”
Wooyoung nods, sniffing quietly, holding back even as tears run down his cheeks and soak into Yeosang's jacket.
“I will miss them, dad,” Wooyoung says, later when he's calmed down a little.
Yeosang hums, “So, will I, buddy.”
“Why does everyone leave us?”
Yeosang stumbles just a little.
“I'm here, aren't I?” Yeosang asks.
“Yeah.”
“And you're not leaving me anytime soon, I hope?” Yeosang pokes Wooyoung’s side, making him let out a wet giggle, rubbing at his eyes.
“No, dad! I'm gonna play with you forever!”
Yeosang breathes out, hugging the boy close. “Then that's all that matters, baby. That's all that matters.”
· ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Seonghwa sees the way Wooyoung's eyes are swollen when he gets back, wrapped around his dad. When Yeosang puts him down, he immediately runs to Jongho. His heart aches when he sees the way Jongho clutches at him a little tighter than usual.
He didn't think he was making a mistake but his heart still wavered.
Yeosang steps up to him, handing him a bag of chips from the brand he likes and his favorite strawberry drink. He takes them, noticing how he's gotten Wooyoung his favorite snacks, too, and there's also the chocolate milk drinks that’s the only thing Jongho drinks these days.
“Thank you,” He smiles, looking up at him, “Should I ask for a piggyback ride like Jongho and Wooyoungie next?”
Yeosang freezes for a bit, sizing him up like he’s gonna say yes before he huffs out a laugh.
“No, everyone gets a snack.” He says, matter-of-factly.
Seonghwa nods—
“And If you want the piggyback ride, I don't mind.”
Seonghwa sputters, giggling and hiding his blush behind the large bag of chips. “No!”
“Hey,” Yeosang says, going blank the way he does sometimes but his eyes are sparkling still, “I'm strong! I'm a firefighter!”
Seonghwa just giggles some more, the sound making Yeosang laugh, too.
In the living room, Jongho whoops as Wooyoung finally wins at the level he was stuck at.
· ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Cause all I know is we said, "Hello"
And your eyes look like coming home
All I know is a simple name
Everything has changed
All I know is you held the door
· ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Mingi huffs as he almost crawls up the stairs, the boxes in his hand almost making his arms give out, yelping as he feels sharp pain spread on his left butt cheek.
“Hey!”
Seonghwa groans, “Just hurry up! Your fat ass is blocking the way!”
“Excuse me?” He whips around, affronted. “My fat ass is trying its best!”
Seonghwa rolls his eyes, adjusting the boxes in his arms, “Well, try harder.”
Somehow, they finally end up on the 4th floor, and hurriedly walk over to Seonghwa's new apartment.
It belonged to Mingi's friend, Dahyeong, and she rented it out to Seonghwa at a price that makes him feel like he's robbing the poor woman. He knows better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.
It's pretty, sparsely furnished with the necessities— fridge, beds and a couch. There's two bedrooms and a nice kitchen. One bathroom's attached to the master bedroom and the other one is in the hallway, opposite the kitchen. Boxes litter the floor, and half of Seonghwa's savings have gone into deposit. The rest, he'll spend buying things to liven up the space, and a desk and chair for Jongho to study in his room. Some pots and pans.
“Where's Yeosang?” Mingi pants, looking at the stairs before his eyes widen.
Yeosang's carrying at least twice of what the two were carrying up the stairs, his arms bulging against his shirt. He puts the boxes at Mingi's feet, looking up with a smile and barely some sweat over his brow.
“Are you even human?” Mingi blurts out, “what the fuck?”
“Mingi!” Seonghwa gasps.
Yeosang just chuckles, “Yeah, I'm human alright.”
“Well, that's the last of it, I hope?” Mingi asks, looking at Seonghwa, who nods.
“C'mon in, guys,” Seonghwa insists, looking at the way Mingi is panting still, covered in sweat, “I put some lemonade in the fridge earlier.”
“Oh, thank god!” Mingi groans in joy, shoving past Seonghwa and going straight to the kitchen.
Yeosang pushes his hair back, smiling as he enters, brushing against him slightly, “Thanks, Seonghwa.”
“You're welcome.” He says, hoping Yeosang ignores his breathlessness as just exertion.
Jongho and Wooyoung are both sitting in the swings in the park facing the apartment building.
“Hojongie, you'll visit, right?” Wooyoung asks, trying very hard to be brave as he tries very hard to get the swing to move under his weight.
Jongho sighs, standing up and going behind him.
“I will, promise.” He pushes Wooyoung's swings, making the kid laugh as he finally goes soaring up. When the swing comes back, he catches it. “What about you, little guy? Bet you're gonna forget all about little ol' Hojongie when you start school.”
Wooyoung gasps, feeling slighted.
“No! I wouldn't do that!” Wooyoung screams as he goes up into the air, “I love you, Hojongie!”
When Jongho catches the swing again, Wooyoung feels so happy, only to hear sniffles coming from behind him.
When he looks up, Jongho's eyes are misted over, and he seems to be trying his best not to cry.
Wooyoung immediately gets off the swing, bottom lip quivering, “Hojongie!”
Jongho quickly wipes at his face, leaning down until he's facing Wooyoung. “I'm sorry, buddy, I love you, too.”
“Don' cry, then!” Wooyoung's lips wobble as he stares at Jongho’s face, looking for any sign he'll start crying.
Jongho smiles, even though it's a bad type of attempt.
Wooyoung immediately throws himself at him, wrapping his arms around his back, holding back his own tears, trying to be brave like his daddy.
“Please, always be my big brother, Hojongie,” Wooyoung pleads softly, “Don't leave me.”
Jongho's arms tighten around him, “I'll never leave you, buddy. I'll always be here.”
And that seems to ease the knot in their hearts.
Mingi watches them hug from the apartment’s balcony, sighing. He turns around to see Seonghwa, red as a tomato because as Yeosang had decided at one point that his sweater had gotten too hot, and now carried around heavy boxes, pale skin glistening with sweat and muscular arms flexing in only a black tank.
He sighs again, rolling his eyes and catching Seonghwa's eye who glares back at him.
Fat ass, Seonghwa mouths at him.
Dumbass, he mouths back and grins.