Archive of Our Own

The fluorescent lights of the hospital buzz faintly as Yeonjun rubs his tired eyes, staring at the lock. His shift was supposed to have ended two hours ago but they were short staffed and his supervisor begged for him to do the extra two hours and he couldn’t say no. Couldn’t live with the idea of any patient being neglected because he hadn’t been around to take care of them. 

He decides, for his sake, it is better to start running to the train station. He can’t afford to lose the five thirty five train or he will never arrive on a rather decent time to pick Haneul. 

Her little voice echoes in his mind, as he’s reminded of yet another broken promise do his daughter. “Appa, you promised you’d be on time today,”. He can hear it, so clearly in his mind now. What kind of example is he setting for his daughter if he keeps having to find excuses to explain why he can’t maintain a promise?

He once read that parents are the child’s first influence, especially when they’re as young as Haneul. He can’t ever feel like he is giving a good example with the continuous mistakes he commits. How can Haneul grow up to be a good person if the person she looks up to the most is the biggest screw up he knows?

He doesn't bother to change out of his scrubs, putting his puffer jacket on top and grabbing his backpack in a rush. The train is, to no one's surprise, late and Yeonjun’s nerves pick up. By the time he reaches Haneul’s kindergarten, his pulse is racing. He rushes through the door, his scrubs wrinkled and hair sticking out in every direction in messy tufts due to the wind. 

She is sitting at a small table near the window, drawing on a piece of paper. Her usually chatty self seems smaller in the empty room, her backpack slumped at her feet. Besides her, Ms. Park looks at him with an expression caught somewhere between concern and frustration. 

“Mr. Choi,” she says, her tone clipped but not unkind. “You’re late again.”

He bows deeply, his voice tight. “I’m so sorry. Work—”

“Always work,” she interrupts, though her voice softens at the sight of his trembling hands. “I understand it’s hard on you but it’s hard on Haneul too. She’s been waiting for almost an hour.”

Yeonjun nods quickly, his words failing him as his throat tightens. He crouches beside Haneul, who pauses her drawing to look at her father. “I’m sorry baby. Appa’s is really sorry.”

Her face lights up with a forgiving smile, her hand reaching to pat Yeonjun’s head. “Appa, it’s okay. I was drawing superheroes!” 

The love that a child gives you is something Yeonjun will never be able to put down to words. That unconditional admiration, even in spite of mistakes, will forever haunt him. He feels undeserving of such magnitude but he is determined to keep earning it, no matter how many sleepless nights it takes.

“Mr. Choi, I am not trying to give you a hard time, you know?” Ms. Park says, her voice gentle. “I just want to make sure you’re okay because Haneul can’t have you not being at your best.”

“I know,” Yeonjun says, voice barely a whisper. He rises to his feet, taking Haneul’s backpack in one hand and her small fingers on the other. “I’ll do better. I promise.”

“Promise that to yourself. And to her.”

They walk out into the cool evening air, with Yeonjun constantly sneaking glances at Haneul and tightening her scarf. The sight brings a bittersweet smile to his face.

“Appa,” she says, looking up at him. “Did you save anyone today?”

Yeonjun blinks, surprised by the question. “I tried.”

“Then you’re my superhero.” She completes simply, squeezing his father’s hand.

Yeonjun feels like crying. He can never do enough to earn this love, no matter how much he tries. In weak moments he wonders what would’ve been if he had been the one to go away, to abandon everything and start over just like Haneul’s other father did. But in times like this, where love triples in his heart for this little angel, he can’t even imagine being so selfish. 

“What if we go out today? We can eat gamjatang!”

Haneul immediately lights up at the words, extending her hands to ask to be picked up. He doesn’t waste an opportunity to grab the little girl and hoist her up. “Really? We can?”

They rarely eat out. Yeonjun counts his pennies every end of the month, in between his living expenses and the bare necessities for Haneul, it’s hard to have enough money to afford eating out. But perhaps, just today, they can indulge for a little while. 

“Yeah, let’s try to find a place.”

Haneul brightens with the idea, immediately going on a spiel about her school day, with names of all her classmates getting mixed in the elaborate story he tells. Yeonjun looks around as they walk home, looking for a particular restaurant he had noticed had recently opened in their neighborhood. 

On the corner of the intersection he usually turns to get home, Halmeoni’s Table sign glows in the evening light. His house directly faces the back of the restaurant and he has run across the elderly lady who owns it many times before. She immediately noted him as someone she needed to take care of, and so had asked him many times when he would pass to visit. 

Today is the day, he thinks, as he opens the door and the bell at the top of the door announces his presence. Some patrons are sitting at tables, sharing food in the warm environment. The smells are homely, reminding him of times spent with his mother. How he mourns not giving Haneul those nostalgic feelings. 

He waits before sitting down, just to be polite. He expects to see the same elderly lady from before but instead, from the kitchen emerges a good looking tall man, his black apron contrasting with his thick-framed glasses. His hair is combed perfectly and Yeonjun breath hitches at his sight. 

He is no stranger to attraction but to feel something burn in his stomach at a bare sight is an emotion he hasn’t experienced in years. 

It’s just a man and yet, Yeonjun is a romantic who has been deprived of connections for five whole years. He gulps, words failing him. 

Haneul doesn’t get the memo, as often children don’t. She clings onto the little wolf plushie hanging from the pocket of the man’s apron. “That is so cute! A wolfie!”

The man, seemingly also stuck in a parallel universe, scrunches his nose. Cute. “Yeah! It’s my son, Choi Yongmeong.”

His voice is lovely and the gentle tone in which he addresses his daughter melts him in the spot. “No way! I’m also a Choi! Appa, did you hear it?”

He smiles at the man, who looks at them with sparkling eyes, “I heard it, princess. Can we have a table for two?”

“Of course,” he replies, grabbing two menus and settling on the table next to the counter. “I’m also a Choi,” he playfully adds, taking the plushie out and handing it to Haneul. “Choi Soobin. Can you take care of my son, Choi —?” 

Haneul doesn’t realize he’s asking for her name, immediately too concerned with playing with the little fluffy thing. Yeonjun smiles and answers for her, instead. “Haneul. I’m Yeonjun.”

“The father,” the man smiles, stating the obvious. 

“That would be me.”

“Help yourselves then. I’ll be back to take your orders.”

Yeonjun doesn’t get bewitched often but it’s hard to not feel the threatening jabs of attraction in his chest. His heart has been patched with safety pins he has placed himself to stop it from breaking, carefully fixing crack by crack with Haneul’s love. But now, it threatens to burst with something fleeting and dangerous…

Attraction is tricky. He has learned to control himself — at work he’s professional, averts his gaze from fellow colleagues or doctors because it’s messy. That had been his first mistake with Haneul’s other father, forcing him to relocate just to not give his own little girl a reminder of what she had lost. 

Then he usually is more conserved with strangers: he trades looks and flirtatious comments but that’s all that is. He has a priority after all, one they usually don’t want to attach themselves to. It’s a pretty decent sized baggage to handle. 

But being gentle and soft to his daughter is an instant turn on. 

Choi Soobin… he will make sure to store that name. Even if it’s just to watch from afar.

The menu has the dish he promised his daughter but he also realizes the premature idea by the time he sees the prices. He needs to be careful with what he orders, otherwise he will end up in a tight situation for the rest of the month. 

He orders a serving of gamjatang with some side dishes and two waters. That seems enough. He knows Haneul is usually a pretty lively girl who eats much more than a regular five year old but he can sacrifice his own meal for this small token of happiness.

As they wait, Yeonjun struggles with not letting his thoughts wander to the waiter. It caught him off guard, the way they locked eyes, fleeting but impactful. He isn't not used to being noticed, he knows that even in his most tiring days he’s attractive, but Soobin looked at him in a different light. To be noticed like that is a dangerous feeling. 

“Appa?” Haneul's voice pulls him from his thoughts, tilting her head curiously. “Are you okay? You’re doing the thinking face.”

He laughs softly, reaching across the table to bop her nose. “I’m fine. Just thinking how delicious this food will be!”

Haneul grins, turning her attention to the small tray of banchan that’s been brought to their table. She nibbles at the food, a hum of approval making Yeonjun’s chest ache in the best way. 

When the gamjatang arrives, Haneul’s gasp of excitement is worth every penny. She digs in immediately, her small spoon clinking against the bowl as she exclaims over the flavor.

“You should eat too, Appa,” she says, nudging the bowl toward him.

“I will,” Yeonjun lies, watching her with a soft smile. He picks at the banchan instead, content to let Haneul enjoy the meal.

“Choi Yongmeong will eat too,” she says, this time directed at the cute waiter. “I am taking super well care of him.”

“He was super hungry,” Soobin says, ruffling her hair. “You’re a great friend to him.”

She smiles, content with the compliment. Soobin turns to Yeonjun, holding the tray to his chest in a rather bashful way. “She is so adorable.”

Yeonjun nods. He knows. “She is my very own food critic. It’s clear she is enjoying her meal.”

And the meal she is enjoying indeed, if the way she basically inhales serves as an indication. The sauce pours over her mouth and before he can reach it with the napkin, Soobin is already helping her. The way he acts around children in a natural way constricts Yeonjun in the worst way possible. 

“She’s got great taste,” Soobin replies, a bashful smile in his features. He stands there for a moment longer than necessary. “You… you two are really close, yeah?”

Yeonjun chuckles. It’s a pretty awkward thing to say but he can see Soobin is making an effort in the small talk department and he’s nothing but an indulgent person. 

“She’s the most important person in my life.” 

“It shows,” Soobin says quietly, his gaze flicking from Haneul to Yeonjun’s hands grabbing his cutlery. Yeonjun pretends to not expect the question that comes after. “Probably her mother’s too.”

“I wouldn’t know, she doesn’t really have one.”

“Oh I’m sorry, her father’s…?”

Yeonjun wanted to laugh. People aren’t usually this forward with him. Choi Soobin is a welcoming surprise. “It’s just me and her.”

Soobin nods, as if he understands more than he lets on. “That’s good. I mean— Not good, maybe? But also, it’s — Well, it’s normal! Single fathers exist and they’re super valid. Oh my God, okay, let me start again.” 

Soobin speaks in rapid succession, eating half of his words. Yeonjun smiles fondly. “It’s fine. You’re doing great.”

Soobin exhales dramatically, clutching the tray to his chest like it’s the only thing anchoring him to the ground. “I promise I’m not usually this bad at talking,” he says, his ears turning a shade of pink.

“Soobin oppa, Yongmeong says thank you for the yummy gamjatang ,” Haneul pipes up, waving the plushie’s tiny arm at him.

“He’s very welcome, even though if I was the one responsible for the dish it wouldn’t be this tasty,” he chuckles. “My mom is the masterchef.”

Family owned, he thinks. That must be the elderly lady he has run into before. 

Soobin straightens, his eyes meeting Yeonjun’s again. There’s a brief pause, the kind that feels like the world’s holding its breath. Then Soobin shifts his tray to one hand, the other scratching nervously at the back of his neck.

“I’ll, uh, let you enjoy the rest of your meal,” he says, his voice a touch higher than before. “But if you need anything, just call me over.”

“Thank you,” Yeonjun says, his voice steady, though he can feel the faintest feeling of something unsteady in his chest.

Soobin offers one last smile before turning and heading back to the kitchen, his footsteps quieter than Yeonjun would have liked. As he walks away, Haneul leans toward her father, whispering. “He’s really nice, Appa. You should say thank you to him later.”

Yeonjun raises an eyebrow at her. “Thank him for what?”

“For making you smile,” she says simply, her tone so earnest it catches Yeonjun off guard. He blinks, momentarily stunned and is glad to see she quickly shifts her attention to the plate in front of her.

It all goes pretty well, the heavy feeling in his chest from before momentarily forgotten. Until it doesn’t.

“Appa, can we get another serving?”

Yeonjun sighs. This is not the first time he has had this conversation with his child but it’s always hard to approach the financial topic with someone who doesn’t really understand why we can’t print more money.

He sets his chopsticks down, giving Haneul a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “The food here is yummy, right?”

She nods eagerly. “It is!”

He smooths a small strand of hair from her face. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it but it’s enough for today, okay? We’ve got to save room for…” he pauses, thinking quickly. “For dessert at home!”

Her eyes light up for a moment and he thinks he has successfully dodged the conversation. Then she tilts her head, brows furrowing. “We don’t have dessert at home, Appa. We ran out of cookies yesterday.”

Yeonjun feels his stomach twist, a mix of guilt and frustration. “You’re right,” he admits softly, folding his hands on the table. “But sometimes, we can’t get everything we want all at once. We have to make sure we save enough for important things.”

Haneul’s face falls slightly, her fingers toying with the plushie Soobin had offered her. “Like paying for the lights?” she asks in a small voice.

Yeonjun’s chest tightens. She’s heard him on the phone more times than he realized, trying to juggle late notices and budgets. He leans forward, his voice warm and reassuring. “We’re doing fine. Next time we will get another serving, I promise.”

He tries not to feel angry at himself for wanting to break down in front of his own daughter, for doing it in public. He combs her hair and takes another piece of meat from his plate onto hers, hopefully it will be enough to satisfy her. 

He continues to do that as the meal progresses, until a thud interrupts his thoughts. He looks at the bowl of tteokbokki  in front of him, looking up to see Soobin smiling softly at him. “I thought you might like this? I know Choi Yongmeong does.”

Yeonjun is about to say something when Soobin stops him with a gentle hand. “On the house. For the best babysitter to my son and her pretty father.”

Yeonjun blinks at the unexpected gesture, his mouth opening and closing as he struggles to find the right words. “Soobin, I—”

Soobin shakes his head, his hand still resting lightly on the table. “Really. It’s no big deal. We’d just end up with leftovers anyway.”

Haneul, oblivious to the emotions between the two adults, claps her hands excitedly. “Thank you, Soobin oppa! I’ll share with Yongmeong too!”

Yeonjun finally manages a small smile, though his voice is still tight with emotion. “Thank you. Really. You didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to. Besides, the food is to feed my own son. I can be such a neglectful father sometimes…” Soobin says simply, tucking his hands in the pockets of his apron.

Before Yeonjun can respond, Soobin gives a quick wave and retreats toward the kitchen, leaving Yeonjun staring after him, a strange ache in his chest.

( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅♡]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )

The morning is a familiar chaos. The alarm clock cuts through the sunrays of the early morning, echoing in the cramped apartment. Yeonjun groans, picking up the phone from the nightstand and letting the brightness of the screen, whose lockscreen is a picture of Haneul in a puffy pink princess dress, greet him good morning. 

He looks besides him — a tiny person snuggled under a mountain of blankets lightly moves in her sleep and he knows the sound has disturbed her as well. “C’mon princess, time to wake up.”

“Appa,” her muffled voice is groggy and small, as it usually is in the morning. “It’s still dark, let me sleep a little more.”

Yeonjun laughs, sensing the tone of her voice wobbly with the weight of a tantrum. “I have to go help the sick people, remember? And you’ve got school! We both have superhero duties to do.”

She flops back onto her pillow, more awake this time. “You’re right. Superheroes don’t miss school.”

Yeonjun doesn’t often feel like a superhero, despite what his daughter believes. He’s constantly exhausted and tired, attempting not to burst into tears every time his bright eyed girl isn’t looking. The struggle to get her up continues as he drags her around the small apartment, to the bathroom to brush her teeth and to put on her clothes. 

It’s in the bathroom that he slightly wets her hair and attempts to style her hair in the most elaborate hairstyle he can think of that day. In front of them, in the sink, his phone has a youtube tutorial running on pigtails in the shape of bows. 

“Appa, you’re doing it wrong!” She whines, as he pauses the video to go back and pick the intrinsics of hairstyling. 

He doesn’t need to put in all this work, he thinks. But he hates feeling inadequate with his daughter, doesn’t want others to think that just because he’s a father he can’t treat his little girl in things that little girls like, like sewing her dresses and putting her hair in elaborate hairstyles.

Yeonjun pauses the video at the crucial part, leaning again and carefully looping the strands and twisting them the best way possible. His hands aren’t as steady as a surgeon but he pushes through. He secures the elastic and gives it a slight pat. “There princess, what do we think?”

She hops her seat and scrambles onto the step stool to peek at the mirror. Her eyes widen as she sees the uneven but bow-shaped pigtails. “It’s so pretty Appa!” 

Well, at least she’s excited, he thinks, relief washing over him. “Time for breakfast now.”

It’s a simple breakfast, as it usually is with them, but Haneul eats it with all the passion that a five year old can muster and never complains. Sometimes he wonders if the heavens have blessed him with such a presence and what he has done to deserve it.

He lets her linger in the room watching TV as he finishes packing both their bags. He opens his wallet to count the change he has been collecting over the past weeks. It has a purpose: he feels the need to pay back to that nice waiter, Soobin. 

Soobin has not left his mind. His kind actions, not only towards his daughter but towards him. At the time he felt quite embarrassed, for a stranger to take pity and charity for him. But Haneul enjoyed her meal deeply, and loved playing with the little wolf plushie and Yeonjun was, well, he was enamoured.

It’s such a stupid feeling to have at his big age; to feel the depth of those emotions spread through his body but it’s inevitable. 

He made sure he would pull together enough to pay back the man. It was only fair, not just as a question of paying a debt — something he hated having, but also as a thank you. There isn’t much he can do with the little time and resources he has, but he hopes the words he has been rehearsing in his mind are enough.

He bundles Haneul in her thick winter jacket and wraps a scarf around her. They head to the train, where she sits in his lap sharing a wired earphone with the Animal Crossing soundtrack in their ears. She’s recently been on a strange kick with it and he is nothing but the father who does everything his daughter wants.

He drops her off at the school, Ms. Park making him promise that he would pick her up on time that day. Yeonjun agrees; he leaves earlier today than usual due to his unusual shifts, he will have time to do everything.

It was quite the normal day, for his standards. Nursing isn’t the cleanest of jobs but he gets through. If his lunch is a little more simple that day than it has been, well, he’ll survive. He’s actually quite looking forward to what’s expected of him later.

The train ride back home after his shift feels slightly lighter than usual, a smile in his features as he walks in the cold winter afternoon. Halmeoni’s Table looks empty in the afternoon glow and Yeonjun enters slowly, impossible to not have his presence announced.

The warm air inside carries the faint aroma of broth and freshly made kimchi. He almost drools in his spot but he has a mission to conclude.

He was hoping to see Soobin in his cute thick glasses and his apron but instead, an old lady sits at one of the tables. He recognises her instantly — the same woman who once caught him near the back of the restaurant, playfully pinched his cheeks, struck up lighthearted conversation, and showered him with warmth and comfort.

“Ah, our handsome neighbor! You finally pay us a visit, uh?” She exclaims, a wide grin spreading across her face. She sets the needle and thread she’s been working with into her lap and waves him over.

Yeonjun rubs the back of his neck, slightly flustered. “Hi, halmeoni. I was here a couple weeks ago, you were too busy in the kitchen.”

She raises her eyebrows. “I’m just teasing you, of course. The boy with the little girl, right? Soobinnie told me her name…”

“Haneul.”

“Yes! Heavenly sky, a beautiful name.”

He smiles politely, feeling his cheeks heat up with the attention. Somehow this is even worse than Soobin. “I gave it to her myself.”

“Good choice, good choice! Soobinnie tells me you raise her well, I can’t wait to meet her.” Her laughter is warm and melodic and the words catch in his throat. Soobin spoke so highly of him, with just one meeting. He feels giddy.

“I actually wanted to speak to him, if that’s okay.”

“You were hoping to see my Soobin, uh?” she says with a playful wink, making Yeonjun choke on the polite response forming in his throat.

“Ah—well, not exactly, I just—”

“Wait here,” she commands. “I’ll get you some kimchi. You need to warm up in this winter cold.”

“Halmeoni, that’s really not necessary—”

“Eomma, try to have some business savviness.” That familiar voice grabs his attention and he involuntarily feels his face heat up. 

“You’re one to talk!” She scoffs, getting up to get to the kitchen. 

“Seriously though, I don’t think that’s —”

Soobin smiles, sitting down in front of him. His hair is combed perfectly and his glasses hang on top of it. “It's too late now, she's gone.”

“I'm exploiting you guys' kindness.”

“Exploiting would involve some sort of forethought.” Soobin replies, always so gentle. “You were here to see me though?”

Yeonjun realises the other must’ve heard their conversation, after all the establishment was pretty small and quaint. 

He reaches for his wallet, grabbing it from inside the mess that is his backpack. Soobin sees him struggling and doesn’t waste any time in teasing him. “Straight from work, I'm assuming?”

“The eyebags gave it away?”

“The pink scrubs help too. They're cute.” 

Yeonjun doesn't feel ashamed of the coloured scrubs he picks but his cheeks heat up to a similar colour he sports in his work uniform. 

“I have something to give you back.” 

Soobin doesn’t let him open the wallet before his big hands wrap around his. Despite the chilly air outside, Soobin’s arms are warm, the thermic sensation sending a shock through his body. “I don’t want it.”

“You don’t even know what it is,” Yeonjun pouts and he notices the way Soobin’s stare lingers on his mouth, a sigh before he shakes his head. 

“You’re going to try to pay me back. I don’t want it.”

Yeonjun huffs, being stubborn has always been one of his biggest flaws. “I feel really bad about it. I don’t want to seem like —”

“Whatever reason you think I did what I did, you’re wrong.” Soobin is pretty determined to get his point across. “I did it to feed my son, of course. We have already established I’m a negligent father.”

A smile creeps onto his features. “Then just hear me out, okay?” Soobin nods. “I don’t want you to feel pity for me. I struggle sometimes but, everyone does right? And now, I’m not struggling as much so I am paying you back. I don’t like being in debt.”

“You’re not in debt,” Soobin says, his tone gentle yet firm. “We see you everyday when you leave early in the morning with your little girl, we see you arriving late from your hospital shifts. We are neighbors, okay? People help each other out, it’s just the way it goes.”

Yeonjun holds his gaze, heart tightening at the words, thinks Soobin is being too kind . It is not the way it goes, not everyone has a heart of gold and doesn’t expect other things in return. Yeonjun would know, the world has not been entirely kind to him.

But Soobin, it seems, does. And that attracts him. Altruism is something he has always described in his ideal type. It seems to come so naturally to him and it’s that sort of characteristic that Yeonjun has always wanted by his side.

He swallows hard, voice softer now. “Okay. We have to find another way for me to pay you back, then.”

Soobin raises his eyebrows, a dangerously attractive expression in his features. “Well then, I am going to require your presence around me at all times. Seems like a fair payment, right?”

Yeonjun chokes on thin air. No one has been this bold with him, especially not when they know about the little girl he carries around. 

And yet, two can play this game. Even if he hasn’t played it in a while.

“Are you sure you’re ready for that level of commitment?” It plays as a joke but also is tinted with a challenge, an unspoken question. 

Soobin answers it like it’s as easy as breathing. “Yeah. Are you?”

( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅♡]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )

It becomes a routine. As much as his budget allows him to, that is. 

The good thing about living close to the restaurant is that he now gets to see Soobin everywhere. It’s that phenomenon where he is living under this false impression that something happens more frequently than it actually does — a dangerous phenomenon because Yeonjun is becoming increasingly aware of how familiar they’re becoming. 

Every morning Soobin sweeps outside, greeting them warmly with a small wave and a high five to Haneul. The girl asks everyday for Choi Yongmeong and Soobin starts wearing him in the apron every morning; he notices the different hairstyles on Haneul’s head and starts telling her to give compliments to her hair stylist since he’s clearly doing a great job. Yeonjun blushes; He comes late from his shifts and picks up the last takeout order, since they refuse to not let him get away with pre-heated meals. 

He still struggles with time. He gets called out more often than not, and there’s times where he is forced to have to pay extra that month for the babysitter. He still doesn’t have a car, so public transportation often fails him. Ms. Park continues to scold him, he feels bad and after Haneul goes to bed he feels his tears pool in his eyes. 

Weak times like that he wishes he had someone to turn around to and hug in bed. Those fantasies have been in the back of his mind for years now, but recently they have started to materialise in the shape of someone, an idea so dangerous he has to wash his face with cold water many times at night to clean the blush that settles in his cheeks. 

Soobin never stops being bold and Yeonjun hates being challenged, so he flirts back. It’s really deteriorating his heart health, at this point he’s surprised no one has declared heart failure for him yet.

A teasing grin here, a casual touch there, every interaction is designed to throw Yeonjun off-balance. And he replies, with equal fervor and grace. He used to have a reputation for crying out loud, he can rise to the challenge and yet… It’s reckless, playing with fire knowing very well he will get burned.

But even amidst all these, there’s something sweet about it. Something about being wanted, out there in the open for everyone to see. And everyone sees. 

“Appa, why is it that you smile so much with Soobin?” Haneul’s innocence catches him off-guard, as they sit in the restaurant, their usual table. 

He has been in the process of cleaning her mouth, the rest of the sauce dripping from her last bite. “I smile around everyone.”

Haneul doesn’t look convinced. And like any good five year old who is clearly too smart for her age, when Soobin goes around to ask how their meal is, she asks him: “Oppa, why is it that Appa smiles so much around you?”

Soobin seems stunned for a moment before his lips twitch into an amused grin. “Your appa must know I make the best tteokbokki in the neighborhood.”

Haneul tilts her head, her little brows furrowing as she considers it. “I guess.”

Soobin laughs at her expression. “She raises good questions.”

“I raised her well, you know.” Yeonjun teases. “Although I think she should not be asking every question that pops into her head.”

“Well, we are just talking about your smile. It’s a good smile.”

Yeonjun feels his face burning. “You’re enjoying this a little too much.”

“Maybe,” Soobin winks and that’s it. That is what sends him over the edge. Soobin gives them both a cheeky wave before heading off to another table, leaving Yeonjun to deal with his precocious daughter.

Haneul leans forward, resting her chin on her hands as she watches her father. "I think Soobin-oppa likes playing with you.”

That’s one way to put it, that’s for sure.

Their meal is as tasteful as always, and to see Haneul eat so well it’s enough to confirm his belief that this is exactly where they should be coming more often. However, the cozy hum of the restaurant is broken by a sudden sharp yelp from behind the counter. Yeonjun’s head snaps up instantly, his nurse instincts kicking in before his brain has fully processed the situation.

Soobin had been chopping something behind the counter and the sharp edge of the blade must’ve caught his finger, because he saw the other had dropped the knife back into the sink.

Yeonjun doesn’t think. He’s already moving, weaving through the tables toward Soobin. When he reaches him, Soobin is biting his lip, trying to suppress a grimace, his injured hand held in the other.

“What happened?” he asks, already reaching for Soobin’s hand.

“It’s nothing,” Soobin says, his face flushing as he tries to pull his hand away. But Yeonjun is firm, his grip gentle but insistent.

“Let me see,” it’s the same tone he uses with his patients: no room for arguments. Soobin has no choice but to hold out his hand. There’s a thin line of red already forming along his finger, a bit of blood dripping. “Tell me where the first-aid kit is.”

“I’m fine—”

“Soobin.” 

The boy blinks at him, stunned by Yeonjun’s demand. Without another word he points at the cabinet on his side. Yeonjun grabs a clean towel from the counter and presses it gently against the cut. “Keep pressure on this.”

He quickly locates what he needs, noticing Haneul had followed him to Soobin and was now attempting to comfort the man. He is truly raising a great child. “Oppa, you will be fine. Appa is really good at helping people, it’s his superpower!”

“I believe you, Haneul.”

“I’m also a superhero that’s why I’m helping you. It’s what superheroes do.”

“Indeed,” Yeonjun says as he approaches them again. “Haneul, can you move so appa can help out then?”

The girl obeys without much question. He kneels in front of Soobin and unwraps his hand. “It’s a clean cut, nothing to worry about.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Soobin chuckles nervously. “I told you, I’m fine.”

Yeonjun looks up. “A cut like this can get infected if you’re not careful. And you deal with food, so it needs to be treated properly.”

The boy swallows, not daring to argue, watching the nurse work meticulous, practised and steady movements. Yeonjun sees the other flinch when he starts cleaning with the antiseptic wipes, the typical reaction. “Yeah, you’re fine. Most people would be whining by now.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you, Nurse Choi?” Soobin teases, voice slightly strained.

Yeonjun likes this banter, appreciates how easily Soobin can slip into a dynamic they have carefully crafted in the month they’ve known each other. 

“Haneul, your appa is really gentle.”

Haneul puffs her chest, proud of the others. “I taught him to be more careful so he doesn’t hurt when he cleans wounds.”

Both him and Soobin chuckle at those words. Haneul is the kind of girl who, more often than not, gets into troublesome situations that involve bruises and wounds. Yeonjun can confirm she has made him a pinky promise to be careful when treating her small injuries, sensitive as always.

It’s cute to see she remembers those details. Love is found in the details and it’s always heartwarming to see she also keeps track of those as much as he does.

“She did,” Yeonjun confirms. “But also I am a nurse. No one likes a nurse with heavy hands.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think it’s just in your line of work.” Soobin replies. “I think you’re really just like that.”

Yeonjun glances up at him then, their eyes meeting. Something unspoken lingers in the air between them, a warmth that feels both comforting and unsettling all at once.

“Perhaps I’m extra careful with you.”

Soobin smiles when he finishes wrapping his finger carefully, giving it a gentle pat. “I hope it means something, then.”

Haneul uses the opportunity to interrupt their moment by reaching for Soobin’s apron and putting his little wolf plush back that she had stolen early — as she always does when they enter the restaurant. “Soobin-oppa, Choi Yongmeong will take care of you. Don’t worry!”

Yeonjun laughs when Soobin crouches to pat Haneul’s head. “Will you also take care of me, princess?”

“Yeah! I’m going to grow up to be an even better doctor than appa.”

Soobin straightens, his smile growing as he watches the little girl. “You’ve got competition, Nurse Choi,” he says, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Not just in my profession, but I see also for your affections.”

He doesn’t know what compels him to say something like that, must be going insane with the various smells inside the restaurant. But his words are worth it by the way Soobin smiles so warmly, so happily. It always happens when he’s slightly more bold — a job that usually belongs to Soobin. He sees how content it makes the boy when he does so.

How he clearly expects it. 

It’s nice, in a way. To feel like whatever they have has some grounds to stand steady.

They go back to their table to finish their meal and the night goes on as expected. The light outside begins to fade, casting the restaurant in a warm, golden glow by the time they’re more than done. 

Yeonjun glances at his watch, realizing they’ve been here longer than usual. Haneul has finished her kimbap and now lays against him, while he strokes her hair. He notices she is going to fall asleep anytime soon.

The reason they had stayed much later it’s because Soobin had insisted. He is now sat across from Yeonjun, the steam from his cup of tea fogging his glasses. Yeonjun can’t resist reaching across the table and picks his glasses up to clean them up, quickly placing them back again where they belong. 

“Much better.”

Soobin blushes. Unsure if it’s due to the gesture or the tea. “Thank you. And for your help earlier.”

“It’s what we do. Isn’t it?”

Soobin smiles, dimples full of display, remembering one of their earlier conversations. “It really is. Eomma always says the restaurant isn’t just about food, it’s about people. She’s right.”

“She must be proud of you,” Yeonjun says softly.

The boy shrugs. “I hope she is. She is the one who taught me to be like this, always reminding me to be proud and kind, even when it’s hard. Family is the way.”

Yeonjun can’t help being curious. “Only child?”

“Not at all. Youngest child even, and by a large gap.” Soobin says. “My sister and my brother are both way older but they don’t live close by. It’s just me to make sure the business stays afloat.”

“So, the youngest of three,” Yeonjun says, can’t help the curiosity to take over. He wants to know everything about this boy. “What’s that like? Were they nice to you growing up?”

Soobin snorts. “Depends on your definition, I suppose. My sister used to boss me around like it was her full-time job, and my brother taught me how to ride a bike by shoving me down a hill.”

Yeonjun laughs, loudly. He sees that the action catches Soobin by surprise, his breath hitching. “If anything, they were preparing you for life.”

“I guess they were,” Soobin says with a grin. “But they’re good people. Just a lot older than me, so we were always in different phases of life. By the time I was in high school, they were off starting their careers. I guess that’s why I feel so tied to this place, it gives me nostalgia.”

Yeonjun nods, his gaze thoughtful. “I get that. It’s good to hold onto any kind of stability. Especially when you’re the one trying to hold everything together.”

Soobin’s expression softens, quickly picking up on what Yeonjun means. “You already do that. Look at what you’re building,” he points at Haneul who has fully fallen asleep in his lap. “What you’re raising. It’s something good, even if it feels slow sometimes.”

Yeonjun feels warm all around. He needs to keep this person in his life, no matter what it takes. “You’re good at this.”

“At what?”

“Making people feel seen.” He admits. “It scares me a little bit.”

Soobin leans forward, resting his arms on the table. “What could possibly be scary about little old me?”

“Because it makes me want to keep coming back.”

Soobin doesn’t flinch, the words don’t surprise him. That is exactly what is so terrifying, the way the other just immediately accepts this reality, their reality. His gaze softens. “Then keep coming back. I want you to.”

“I need to put Haneul to bed,” he says. Not because he wants the night to end, quite the contrary, but because he is a responsible father and no matter where his heart leads him, Haneul will forever be his first priority.

“Okay,” Soobin replies softly. “But you will come back, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, as easy as breathing. Maybe it really is. “I will.”

( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅♡]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )

Someone should’ve warned him about the dangers of texting someone daily. At some point, for some futile reason he can’t remember, he and Soobin started texting. It had been easy: a picture of a stray cat here, another picture of Haneul there; Haneul drawing him in her notebook, alongside Choi Yongmeong.

Soobin, on the other hand, texts him the most random assortment of things: pictures of his food, songs he likes and the one he has grown to expect but still manages to mess with his heart every time, the occasional selfie.

He is too photogenic and Yeonjun is far too weak to handle it. It takes everything in him to not save it.

Yeonjun knows it’s ridiculous but the photos are a sucker punch every time. Soobin with his hair mussed and soft smile as he captions morning rush was wild but I survived. Or Soobin with flour on his face, apron loose around his neck, sheepish grin, should I be banned from the kitchen?

It’s the quiet intimacy that builds between these exchanges. Having a child and being single means that kind of connection is stolen away from you. Yeonjun had mourned and mourned about it but now that is back, in full force, he finds himself not knowing what to do with it. 

His phone phone pings with a new message. Soobin’s contact flashes with another two messages.

you’re working too hard. Make sure to eat something when you get home, okay?

Attached is  a picture of Soobin with his chin resting on his hand, face framed by the soft glow of his bedroom lamp. Yeonjun aches in a way he doesn’t want to admit.

eating now, don’t worry about me too much, he replies.

The response is almost immediate:

someone has to ❤️

No one warned him about this at all.

( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅♡]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )

He has never had Soobin around his house — granted, he doesn’t invite people around often. It’s a small place, Haneul’s bedroom too small in a way that worries him about the future; kitchen constantly filled with utensils everywhere because he doesn’t have enough space to store them; a small table that barely fits two people for a dining room because there’s no place for anything else.

But Soobin insisted — well, not really. Yeonjun wanted to do something for him and had mentioned off-hand that his cooking could be a delight. One thing led to another and now he’s cleaning like crazy around the apartment, trying to hide things for just one night. 

“Appa, can you help me with this drawing?”

Technically, he shouldn’t. He has so much to do but he’s always been too weak to say no to his little girl. “Yes, princess. What do you need?”

He sits down next to her, the coffee table in the living room usually used to store her drawing pencils and pens. Her tongue peaks out as she scribbles, concentrated, what he assumes is a dinosaur. Maybe?

“I can’t add the cape to the dinosaur.”

He laughs. He has gotten really good at figuring out her doodles. “Why does a dinosaur need a cape?” He asks, but grabs a pen to attempt to locate the back of the animal. 

“He’s a superhero, duh.”

Haneul’s obsession with superheroes stems from his own obsession with it. Soobin had asked once and he smiled through the whole story, saying how he used to watch superhero movies and shows for comfort and how Haneul has picked on it and fed, albeit forcefully. 

What Yeonjun didn’t tell him is that his own superhero obsession had started because of his ex, Haneul’s other father. He doesn’t like disclosing those details, not wanting to ruin the good thing they have going around. Besides, he doesn’t want her to be completely disconnected from him, even if that’s exactly what he had done.

She doesn’t ask about it; doesn’t wonder why she doesn’t have a mother or another father. Maybe it’s too soon, or maybe he should give her more credit than he does, she is quite good at picking other people’s emotions. 

“How is that for a cape?”

She squeals in excitement, her tiny arms wrapping around his shoulders. “It’s perfect Appa!” A wet kiss is planted on his cheek as a thank you. 

He feels full. He doesn’t really need any other kind of love to complete.

(Although, he can still find space in his heart for it.)

Too distracted to care about anything, he lets the time pass and suddenly his door rings announcing Soobin’s presence. 

The small dining table is already set with simple, mismatched plates. It’s not much, but it’s all he could pull together between work and picking Haneul up from daycare. The faint smell of the stew he’s been nervously tending to lingers in the air.

When he opens the door, Soobin is standing there, bundled up in his thick winter coat and holding a small paper bag. His cheeks are flushed from the cold, and the sight of him, with his messy hair peeking out from under a beanie, is enough to momentarily steal Yeonjun’s breath.

“I stopped by a bakery.” He says as a greeting, lifting the bag. 

Yeonjun steps aside to let him in. “You didn’t have to bring anything. The whole point of this was so I could give you something back.”

“Well, it’s not in my nature to show up empty handed.”

Haneul peeks her head out from the table where she is still drawing, her face lighting up when she sees who arrived. “Soobin-oppa!” She greets him, running towards him. 

Soobin crouches just in time to catch her, laughing as she hugs him tightly. “Hello princess, good to see you!”

(It’s easy to find space in his heart when this is how he treats the most precious thing in his life.)

“Let me show you my toys!” She says, mustering all her enthusiasm and skipping to her room to grab something.

Yeonjun watches the exchange, his heart doing something it really shouldn’t. “She really likes you,” he says softly, closing the door behind Soobin.

“I like her too,” Soobin replies, his voice just as quiet as he meets Yeonjun’s gaze.

“Let’s sit down for dinner, shall we?”

Soobin finally steps all the way in, shedding his coat and his scarf. Yeonjun immediately likes seeing him here, inside his apartment, into his life. He sets the bag on the counter as he notices Soobin look around. “Your place is cozy.”

“That’s a nice way to say small.” Yeonjun jokes but he can also see where the cozy stands in: the nursing textbooks in his coffee table since he doesn’t know where else to put them, Haneul’s drawings taped to the fridge, the many floor lamps he has acquired over the years. 

“Doesn’t matter. It feels lived-in. Like a home.”

Yeonjun is often caught off-guard by the sincerity of his words. This is no exception. “Thanks,” he says, gesturing for him to sit down at the table. He calls Haneul too, inquiring if she has washed her hands. 

She nods enthusiastically, showing her small hands before joining Soobin at the table. She sits right next to him, admiring him with her big eyes. He’s unsure which one of them has the biggest crush.

He sets down the pot with the stew he carefully cooked, alongside many other small dishes he had prepared. He tried his best with his budget and he thinks he did quite a good job — it’s a skill you pick when you have to be frugal, you learn how to make the best out of very little. 

Haneul chatters through most of the meal, as she usually does, telling them all about her tales of the day, her school adventures. Yeonjun has to push the chopsticks in her direction often to make her eat. 

“The more you humour her, the more she will talk.” Yeonjun jokes when Haneul attempts to feed Soobin because, and he quotes, he isn’t eating enough appa! 

“I don’t mind.” Soobin says and it’s genuinely pleasant to see him so gently interacting with her, asking her questions, and playing along. 

This scene of them sitting around, eating and chatting, laughing, Yeonjun thinks this is it. This is what he has wanted and hasn't had an opportunity to think about how much. 

A family.

He can argue he and Haneul already have it: despite his lack of time, he finds it essential to always sit down for their meals. The routine is the same but Soobin being there adds an extra layer to this sentiment of completion he feels. 

“This has been really good,” Soobin says. “Your Appa is a great cook.”

“I helped!” Haneul says and Yeonjun finds it hilarious how much she wants to impress Soobin.

“You absolutely did not!” He teases, reaching forward to tickle her. Her giggle erupts instantly. “You sat down the whole time about that very important drawing you were doing.”

“Appa,” she whispers, even though Soobin can definitely hear what she’s saying. “Let’s just lie this time. I promise it will be the last time.”

Soobin doesn’t resist and laughs loudly at her words, reaching to clean her chin of some sauce. “She’s something, uh?”

It’s not the only time their conversation turns into this quick, interesting banter. Yeonjun really feels everything and more at the moment, stuck between deciding if this was a good idea or not. By the time the plates are nearly empty and the stew pot is scraped clean, Haneul’s energy begins to waver. She leans heavily against Soobin’s arm, her eyelids drooping as she fights to stay awake.

“I think someone’s ready for bed,” Yeonjun says softly, opening his arms so she can cradle in them.

But she maintains her position close to Soobin, hugging him tightly. “Noo.”

Her whine is betrayed by her own yawn. Soobin combs her hair with his long fingers. “You’ve had a big day, princess. Superheroes need to sleep too, right?”

Haneul pouted but she can’t find a better argument for it, a clear sign she is too tired. “Will you be back, Soobin-oppa?”

“Whenever you want,” he replies. She must think it’s a good enough answer, because she raises to kiss his cheek tenderly and shifts towards Yeonjun, cradling in his arms. 

Yeonjun notices Soobin blushing at the action and he finds it pretty attractive. It’s clear he wasn’t expecting the display of affection but for Yeonjun it doesn’t matter. It’s clear in the months they’ve known each other, dancing around one another, that Haneul has grown comfortable. 

Too comfortable, his brain would betray him by whispering. 

“I’ll be right back,” Yeonjun says. “If— if you want to stay, that is?”

It sounds like a question. It shouldn’t. But Soobin nods, slowly and Yeonjun is a goner.

She’s half asleep by the time he puts on her pajamas. He isn’t going to make her brush her teeth when she’s in this state, and instead makes sure to tuck her in with enough blankets so she doesn’t feel the cold. As he gently lowers her onto her bed, she murmurs something incomprehensible, her little fingers clutching at his shirt as if reluctant to let go.

“I’m here, princess. Until you fall asleep, I promise.”

Haneul’s grip loosens, her hand falling to her side as her eyes flutter open just enough to peer up at him. “I hope Soobin-oppa comes more times.”

Yeonjun chuckles. “I hope so too, sweetheart.”

A sleepy smile spreads across her face, and she lets out a content hum. “You’re the best cook, Appa.”

Yeonjun feels his chest tighten, love washing over him. He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Thank you, my love. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, yeah?”

She hums but it’s clear she’s fighting a hard battle with sleep, her eyes closing. Yeonjun stays there for a moment longer, watching her chest rise and fall with each peaceful breath. The weight of the day, the worries that constantly circle his mind, all seem to fade in her presence. 

He turns on the small nightlight and steps out, looking back at her one last time. “I love you.”

When he returns to the living room, Soobin is at the kitchen sink, washing his dishes. His sleeves are rolled up and his shoulders are relaxed and he has never noticed how broad they were. It’s too much — too domestic, too attractive. He feels dizzy.

“You didn’t need to.”

Soobin shrugs. “I wanted to.”

As easy as breathing. 

He doesn’t argue, walking over to join him. He rolls his sleeves and notices Soobin’s stare linger a for a little longer. It’s electric. “You could’ve just stayed still.”

“Where would the fun be in that?”

They fall into a quiet rhythm, washing and drying dishes side by side, like they’ve done this for years. They haven’t but maybe, maybe they could. Their elbows brush occasionally as they work and Yeonjun has to be aware of how much it burns every single time.

He feels like Soobin is thinking really hard about something that is holding him back. He’s pretty decent at reading body language, it kind of comes with the job. “Ask what you want to ask.”

Soobin laughs, caught off guard. “How did you know?”

“I’m good with people.” He pauses before debating whether to add it or not. “And I know you. I think.”

“You do know me,” Soobin says. He breaths in. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“You can ask me anything.”

The water continues to flow as he breathes in again. “I— I don’t want to sound insensitive. But — how did you end up with, you know, Haneul. With a child, I guess that is what I mean.”

He should’ve expected this question to come sooner or later. It was overdue. “I had a boyfriend some time ago. He was a doctor at one of the hospitals I used to work in. One time we were home and the door rang. A woman came in, with a baby. Said it was his.” 

Yeonjun has to stop what he’s doing, his hands trembling for some reason. Soobin notices and puts down the plate he was drying, holding his hand. It’s comforting. 

He decides to continue. “He denied everything but — the paternity test didn’t lie. He had not only cheated on me but he had been irresponsible enough to not admit his mistake. The woman didn’t want the child and I don’t know, I don’t want to judge her too hard, she had no idea. He didn’t want the child either.”

“I was foolish enough to propose we could raise her together. That I could help him, that I would forgive him for what he did to me. I really thought we could work it out, I thought I was doing a good thing. I often sacrificed a lot, including my own comfort, for his happiness.”

“He left, didn’t he?” Soobin whispered, getting closer and closer. 

When Yeonjun nodded, he felt the other wrap his arms around him, resting his chin on the crook of his shoulder. The proximity helped him feel more grounded.

“He left. I guess it was too much pressure.” He sighs. “But I was too attached by then. By then I had already felt that whatever love I might have thought I had for him was nothing compared to what I felt for this angel.”

Soobin tightens his embrace. “You’re really brave, you know? That is indeed real love. I don’t know if many would’ve done the same.”

He swallows with the emotion crawling in his throat. “She didn’t ask to be born or to have such an irresponsible guardian. She deserved someone who wouldn’t abandon her.”

“And look what she got. You. Truly the best choice she could’ve hoped for.”

He laughs, a shaky sound betraying how much he is feeling at the moment. “You have only seen me at my best. You don’t know about the mistakes I have made, so many times I wonder if this is really the best option.”

Soobin pulls back but only to turn them around, looking at him directly in his eyes as he says the next words. “You’re more than enough. That little girl, she adores you. Anyone can see that in the way she looks at you. You two are good together.”

Yeonjun chuckles, tears streaming down his cheeks. “It’s not always good. Sometimes it’s a lot of tantrums and times where I have to put my foot down that make me feel bad doing so.”

“You’re a parent, it comes with the job.” Soobin says. “But you’re her father, and that’s all it matters.”

“Thanks,” he said softly, his voice laced with gratitude. “For saying that. For being here.”

“I’m glad I am,” Soobin replies, his hands still resting on Yeonjun’s arms, grounding him. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but I’m here now, okay? If you need someone to lean on, if you need anything —”

Yeonjun turns to face him fully, their proximity leaving little space between them. “Why are you so nice to me?”

Soobin tilts his head, a teasing smile breaking through the tenderness. “Maybe I just like you.”

And that’s it, isn’t it? The punch in the gut he has been waiting for, the same thing that brings him back to reality. The dream he has had, the words he has been waiting for. 

The moment he has been waiting to ruin. “Soobin,” the space between them grows smaller by the second. “I don’t know if I can be a father and a boyfriend at the same time.”

It’s not meant to hurt but it’s meant as a warning: he can’t handle disappointment, especially considering how quick Haneul is growing comfortable with Soobin, how much he is willing to give his heart away. He has to be the responsible one. 

Soobin, however, doesn’t react badly. He takes a step closer, his hand cupping Yeonjun’s cheek, palm warm against his skin. 

His breath hitches when Soobin leans in, foreheads meeting softly. “Just be Yeonjun, then. Please?”

Yeonjun closes his eyes, the words settling in his chest. Soobin wants him. He wants Soobin. What else is there to worry about? Soobin’s thumb brushes lightly against his cheek, tender, warm. He doesn’t remember the last time someone touched his face like this.

“Let me kiss you, Yeonjun-hyung.” Soobin whispers, warm breath against his chapped lips. “I really want to kiss you.”

This isn’t an impulse. This is vulnerable, shared between them. It’s because he wants him, just like the other does.

Yeonjun nods, barely perceptible. “Okay.”

Soobin closes the small space between them, lips brushing against Yeonjun with softness. It’s tentative, questioning almost, as if he continues to ask for permission. Yeonjun responds by tilting his head, his lips moving in return, deepening the kiss. 

It’s unhurried, like they have all the time in the world. Perhaps they do, Yeonjun thinks. He wishes he could freeze that moment forever, paint a perfect picture of what they are, what they’re feeling. 

Soobin’s hand slides from his cheek to the nape of his neck, fingers threading gently through the strands of his hair. A touch that sends a shiver down his spine. He places his own hands on Soobin’s chest, and hears his heart beat furiously against it. Knows he is affecting the other as much as Soobin affects him.

The kiss grows hungrier — not rushed, but filled with the kind of need that makes Yeonjun’s heart pound in his chest. When they finally pull apart, it’s only because they need to breathe, their foreheads still touching as they both draw in shaky breaths. Soobin’s thumb strokes the corner of Yeonjun’s mouth, where his lips still tingle from the kiss.

“Soobin,”

“Turn off your brain for a second, ‘kay?” Soobin whispers. “I want this. I want to be with you because I like you. Let me.”

Yeonjun closes his eyes again, a promise, a possibility settled in between them. “Yeah. Okay.”

( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅♡]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )

It starts with a knock on his door. Yeonjun is already out of bed preparing breakfast for Haneul. He had quite a hard night, a bad shift and a crying girl refusing to sleep last night. He opens it, still in his sleepwear, hair sticking out in odd directions and gigantic eyebags. Soobin stands there, a tray of two steaming coffee cups in hand. 

“Morning delivery service,” Soobin says cheerily, a far too bright smile for the morning.

“Soobin,” he blinks, yawning, betraying his tired state. “It’s seven in the morning.”

Soobin reaches out to peck him. “You seemed really exhausted yesterday. I thought the coffee would help.”

And yeah, maybe dating Soobin comes with these perks. On regular, pre-Soobin days, when situations would pile up, he would get Haneul to kindergarten and attempt not to cry in the subway. But now, with Soobin standing in his kitchen, putting down the cups and offering to cook breakfast, well, it was easy to feel a little better about his fucks up.

“I had to be firm yesterday with Haneul,” he confesses, as he heats her usual milk. “It was really bad. She wouldn’t stop crying.”

Soobin rubs his hand on his back. “I’m sure you did what you had to do. Let’s all eat breakfast now, okay?”

Yeonjun chuckles. “You’re not only drinking coffee, are you?”

“Why not?” 

He makes Soobin sit down, putting some extra slices of bread in the toaster. Haneul ends up waking on her own, excited to see Soobin so early in the morning, the previous night forgotten. 

“Thank you,” he mouths to Soobin as the other plays with Haneul in the early morning. 

Soobin’s smile is so wide his heart threatens to burst out of his chest.

( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅♡]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )

“Stop laughing!” Yeonjun huffs, stirring the pot in front of him with too much vigor. Even he can see he’s making a mistake. 

Soobin leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching Yeonjun’s every move. It’s not his problem he is distracted by the skin on Soobin’s exposed forearms, by the way his hair is growing longer. 

“I’m not laughing.” He reaches out to cover Yeonjun’s hand on the spoon, helping him stir in slower, smoother circles. “Just take your time.”

Yeonjun glances at their joined hands, the heat from the pot nothing compared to the warmth of Soobin’s hands. “You’re distracting me.”

“That’s the point.” Soobin leans in, brushing his lips against Yeonjun’s temple.

He forgets what he’s doing entirely, caught in the sheer sweetness of the gesture. He leans into the gesture, eyes closing. 

“You’re not focusing,” Soobin teases again. 

He groans. “You’re the worst.”

“I’ll step away,” Soobin says but he doesn’t let him go much further, pulling him back to wrap his arms around his middle. “Oh?”

“Don’t make me say it out loud.”

Soobin’s laugh is music to his ears, quite literally. He likes the feel of having someone pressed to him, the years he has gone without any human contact weighting on him. “I still think you’re doing a great job. You cook like you care.”

“I do care.”

“I know hyung,” Soobin whispers, kissing his cheek, down to his neck. 

( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅♡]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )

The living room is dimly lit, the glow from the television showing the movie Haneul wanted to see. The girl is sandwiched between Yeonjun and Soobin, a bowl of popcorn balanced on her lap. 

Soobin reaches for the popcorn, to which she replies by snatching his hand. He gasps with fake surprise. “You’re not giving me any?”

Haneul shakes her head. “It’s my snack. I made it. If you wanted, you should’ve made yours.”

Yeonjun laughs. He knows how protective she gets over popcorn. Soobin clutches his chest dramatically. “What about sharing? I thought we were best friends!”

Haneul considers the words for a moment. She nods and picks a single popcorn, handing it to him. “Okay. Sharing is good, so you get one.”

“That doesn’t seem very fair, Haneul.” Yeonjun comments, adoration spreads in his expression as he watches their interaction. 

“I agree,” Soobin says, quickly grabbing the bowl and settling it on Yeonjun’s lap. “It’s not fair at all.”

He says this as he rushes to tickle her in whatever place he can reach. She burst into giggles, squirming in Soobin’s grasp. The sounds take over the apartment, a smile weaving onto Yeonjun’s features. “Soobin-oppa, no! Stop!” She laughs in between breaths. 

His heart doubles its size. He doesn’t remember the last time this apartment had so much life, how lucky he has become. How much Haneul adores Soobin, how effortless it is to let it happen.

“I will stop,” Soobin says, a smile on his face as well. “Only because you’re so cute. Who made you so cute?”

“Appa did!” She replies, so effortlessly. Yeonjun is so so happy. 

“Hm, I have to agree with that.” Soobin says, kissing him on the cheek. 

As easy as breathing.

( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅♡]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )

“Is Haneul asleep already?” Soobin asks. Yeonjun had excused himself to put the girl to bed, and he came back to the living room with a sight of Soobin resting on his couch, legs spread. 

He nods, footsteps quiet against the floor. “As soon as she rested her head.”

Soobin looks up with that gentle smile of his. “She’s such a ball of energy, huh?”

He chuckles. “She’s a princess, so she runs this house.”

"Hum, does that make you the royal advisor?" Soobin teases, propping himself up on his elbows to look at him more closely. “I think it would look really good on you.”

There’s a long pause, neither of them saying anything, just enjoying the quiet of the evening. Soobin seems to still be lost in his fantasy thoughts and Yeonjun takes his time to just admire him. 

The boy then turns around to look at him, catching him looking. “Do I have something in my face?”

Yeonjun joins him on the couch, laying on top of him. “Don’t tease me.”

“You know, I think that now that Haneul is asleep, we can move onto some more important things.” Soobin’s voice is filled with teasing remarks but it’s heavy with something else. Something flirty, a little coy.

Yeonjun is too tired to understand the implication though, looking up to the other boy. “Did we have something planned?”

He lets out a soft laugh, eyes flicking down to Yeonjun’s lips before meeting his gaze. Something undeniably intense there. “We didn’t but I thought we should have some quality time. Just the two of us.”

Soobin’s hand runs through his arms, slowly, teasingly. Yeonjun is suddenly wide awake, perceptive of what the other is implying. He can feel the warmth of Soobin’s body pressed against him, the tension building between them. “What did you have in mind?”

“I just wanted to play with her father for a little while.”

Yeonjun chuckles, loud and free. “You’re so lame, you know that?”

Soobin has a pout he can barely resist pecking before he answers. “It was a good line.”

He smiles, his fingers trailing gently down Soobin’s neck. “Not on the couch though.”

He doesn’t need to say anything more, Soobin effortlessly picking him up, bridal style. Yeonjun really can’t resist melting into the touch, breathing in with the implications. “Where to then?”

“Stop teasing!” Yeonjun whines, feeling his whole body heating up, a rush through his veins, like a starved man who has now opened the dam to these new sensations and emotions. “Take me to bed.”

He whispers those words, a voice he knows Soobin can’t resist. He feels his grip tighten around his waist, clearly affected by it. Intoxicating. He moves with determination, a man on a mission and Yeonjun is left with the thundering pulse of their shared heartbeat to focus on. 

A sound he’s sure he could listen to forever.

( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅♡]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )

They’re brushing their teeth together in the cramped bathroom. It was small already when it was just two of them, it’s even worse now that Soobin is added into the mix. 

Yeonjun has his back pressed against the sink while Soobin stands close, making sure Haneul doesn’t fall from her stool. Her small hand grasped the edge of the counter, attempting to mimic Soobin and Yeonjun, brushing it with exaggerated movements. It’s awkward, a tangle of arms and legs as they all move in sync, but there’s a comfort in the closeness.

Haneul giggles as some toothpaste foams over the edge of her mouth, making a mess of her chin. Soobin though is patient, and gentle, so he reaches over to wipe it with a damp cloth. “Careful, princess.”

Yeonjun smiles at the sight. He is such a part of their routine, their little world, he would have never imagined to be so lucky to get to experience this for the first time. He ruffles her hair gently. “Don’t play too much, you need to sleep after this.”

Soobin leans closer, lowering his voice so only Yeonjun can hear, “I don’t mind being crammed in here with you, you know.”

Yeonjun feels the heat rise to his cheeks as he glances at him. “I think we might need a bigger bathroom if you’re going to keep making comments like that.”

Haneul pipes up from her stool, her face lit with excitement, “Can we all have pancakes tomorrow morning, Appa?”

“You know I don’t know how to make pancakes, princess.” Yeonjun replies.

“I know, I wasn’t talking to you.”

They freeze mid-brush, both of them aware of what Haneul means by that. Soobin looks at him in panic, clearly at a loss of words and Yeonjun isn’t sure how to react as well. Parenting doesn’t have a manual guide but, even if it did, it wouldn’t include this at all. 

He knew this was bound to happen. He and Soobin have been an item for more than six months, have known each other for another added amount of time and it was inevitable, with the time they spend together, that Haneul would start to see Soobin as a father as well.

“Well, can we?” She reiterates, turning to Soobin extending her hands so he can pick her up. Soobin doesn’t deny her, but Yeonjun can see the reluctance in his gestures this time around. 

He still picks her up in the most gentle way. “I have to ask your Appa first.”

“But you’re my Appa too,” she whines and Yeonjun feels his heart constrict, twisting around with the nerves of it all. 

“It’s time for bed, princess.” He says, combing her hair with his fingers. “Soobin will put you to bed, okay?”

“You sure?” Soobin asks. 

There isn’t anything he’s more sure of, he thinks as he nods. He watches them disappear into the hallway, Haneul holding onto Soobin’s neck, gently patting his nape. A gesture of comfort she often does with him. 

Yeonjun doesn’t feel conflicted over the idea of Haneul viewing Soobin as a father. It has all felt quite right for a long time but what really messes with his brain is thinking how he allowed Soobin to ingrain so deeply into his life, give so much of him to help, while Yeonjun remains the same emotionally unavailable boyfriend he has been from day one. 

It feels selfish, he feels selfish. Soobin deserves more than his half-hearted attempts, deserves more than to have a boyfriend who retreats to himself when things get too heavy, who feels too much, has too many problems, doesn’t give enough in return.

But he can’t help it. Vulnerability is hard for him, a foreign language, one he hasn’t studied in a while. Not after what happened with Haneul and the heartbreak he went through. He couldn’t bear to let someone in like this. 

But he did. Kind, patient Soobin, slipping into their lives so effortlessly. With his contestant bright smiles, his optimism, his words and his actions. 

He deserves so much better than me, he thinks as he leans into the doorway, hearing the muffled sounds of Haneul and Soobin’s conversation. He almost thinks it’s for the better to step away entirely but then he thinks of that sweet little angel, how much she lights up when she sees Soobin. Thinks of Soobin, the way he looks at him, like he has waited an eternity for him to get there, how he would probably wait an eternity more so Yeonjun could meet him halfway. 

How could he take that away from them? From himself?

Another selfish thought. He doesn’t want to lose Soobin, not just for Haneul’s sake but for his own. 

Yeonjun sinks into the couch, staring at the ceiling with all these thoughts swirling in his brain. It’s not the first time he has dealt with them, but they feel ten times heavier than usual. 

The soft creak of the hallway breaks his trance, as he sees Soobin emerging, sitting next to him on the couch. “Hey,” he says softly. “You okay?”

He doesn’t answer. “She’s asleep?”

Soobin nods. “Didn’t even fight tonight. Just curled up and knocked out.”

Yeonjun smiles faintly. “She does that when she feels safe.”

It’s silent for a while. They both have much in their heads. Soobin breaks the silence after a bit. “Yeonjun, I…” he pauses, running a hand through his already messy hair. “When she said that — the Appa thing, I didn’t know how to react. Still don’t.”

Yeonjun turns to face him. “You don’t have to figure it out. At all, even. If you feel uncomfortable about it, I will tell her to not do that.”

“That’s not it.” He rushes to correct. “I just — I don’t want to overstep. She’s your daughter, you’re the one who did everything for her. I… ugh this is so hard to say.”

“Hey, it’s okay if you don’t want that responsibility.”

“That’s the thing.” He firmly says, grabbing his hand. “I do want it. I want that, I want her to see me like that because — Well, I see her that way already.”

The words hang in the air, heavy, a tension that could be cut with a knife. Yeonjun is so selfish. “I feel so bad, though.”

Soobin looks at him, confusion set in his expression. “Why?”

“I feel like the worst boyfriend in the world.” He admits, although it pains him. “You’re too good for me. For God’s sake, you are basically helping me raise a child! You support me and you love me so unconditionally and what do I even do for you?”

Soobin doesn’t respond immediately and Yeonjun feels himself sinking further into a pit in his stomach. He can’t look at him at that instance, afraid of what he might see. He feels himself spiraling, quickly, an ugly thing. 

But then he’s stepping closer, tilting his chin up with gentle fingers, eyes meeting. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“What?”

He sighs, his thumb brushing against his jaw. “You have given me more than I ever thought I would have. I have never been in a relationship where I felt so worthy of being loved and loving someone back. I wake up every day wanting to be better, do better. You make me better.”

Yeonjun blinks, stunned into silence. He doesn’t understand…

“You make me feel loved. How is that not enough?”

“But I —” Yeonjun starts, but Soobin cuts him.

“Aren’t you happy?”

Such a simple question, straight to the point. It throws him off balance, as usually only Soobin can. 

“As happy as I've never been but I feel like I am not enough.” He whispers, not knowing why his voice sounds so faint, so weak. The knot in his throat threatens to close up as time continues to pass.

“You are.” Soobin says, like it’s a second nature to him to say these things. So natural. “I like being domestic. I like coming to the restaurant and seeing you there. I like coming to your house and seeing your little girl. I like when we kiss, when we hug, when we talk, when we spend time together in silence. I want to keep liking you. Yeonjun-hyung. I want to love you.”

He releases a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “You make it seem so easy.”

“That’s because it is.” Soobin smiles, that smile of his he is a sucker for. “Loving you is so easy.”

His heart jumps at that confession, so earnest and raw. So real. He feels like his heart will crawl its way out if he doesn’t do anything, so closes the gap between them, uses his own hands to cup Soobin’s face and brushes his lips against him, the most soft of kisses.

He lets out a shaky breath as Soobin’s hand moves to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, into his lap. Yeonjun leans into it, never once thinking of separating themselves from the passionate kiss. He can feel Soobin’s heartbeat, steady and calm in spite of it all and that’s it. 

It really is easy to love him.

“Okay, I believe you.” Yeonjun whispers against his lips because he truly does. Soobin doesn’t let him say more as he continues to kiss him slowly, unhurried, with all the time in the world because he knows they have it. 

Yeonjun thinks he could also spend another eternity with this man if it means being loved like this. He has spent too much time building walls around his heart, safepining the cracks with weak resolutions. He kept himself safe but at what cost? He had been trapped. Band-aids don’t fix bullet holes, right?

But Soobin is trying, trying hard to fix it. To build it together again, brick by brick. In his arms he doesn’t feel inadequate, in their moment, shared only between them, he feels whole. Wanted. Loved.

“I love you.” Yeonjun adds, in the warmth of their touch, of that moment. 

As easy as breathing.