Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It was nearing 2 a.m. when Seungcheol finally stepped through the front door of the house, the soft click of the lock echoing in the quiet. The warm glow from a single lamp in the living room was the only light guiding him as he slipped off his shoes, his body aching from the relentless grind of the past week. The house was still, save for the faint hum of the central heating and the occasional creak of the wooden floor beneath his weight.

This had been his routine for the past several days—dragging himself home in the dead of night after endless hours in the studio, meticulously perfecting the new album for one of his company’s boy groups. Deadlines loomed over him like shadows, and while he loved his work, the sheer intensity of it left him yearning for simpler days.

Sometimes, when Seungcheol was this tired, he wondered if he’d made a mistake by choosing this career. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his work—he did. Music was his passion, and producing gave him a sense of fulfillment nothing else could. But some days, when he dragged himself home after midnight for the fifth day in a row, he envied the steadiness of his husbands’ lives.

Jeonghan, who co-owned a legal firm with his business partner Wonwoo, had a schedule that was at least semi-predictable—though Jeonghan being Jeonghan, he often “snuck off” early under the guise of meetings or business lunches. Joshua, on the other hand, worked steady hours as an editor and translator for a respected news agency.

Between the two of them, their 9-to-5 routines formed a comforting rhythm, with evenings free to unwind or spend together. Seungcheol’s life, however, was a whirlwind of unpredictable hours. He was a producer, after all. While he enjoyed the flexibility his job occasionally allowed, the trade-off was nights like these, where he burned the midnight oil to meet looming deadlines.

Shaking off his thoughts, he made his way through the house, his steps soft and deliberate. He slipped into the walk-in closet adjoining their bedroom, stripping off his day-old hoodie and jeans, moving slowly to avoid making noise, and headed into the bathroom.

The shower was a welcome reprieve, the hot water soothing his tense muscles and washing away the weight of the day—or rather, the night. The steam filled the small space, fogging up the mirror and softening the harsh lines of exhaustion on his face.

Wrapping himself in his favorite pair of soft cotton pajamas, Seungcheol padded quietly into their bedroom. The sight before him never failed to soften the edges of his weariness: Jeonghan and Joshua, curled together on one side of their massive bed, the blankets half-tangled around their legs. The sight brought a small, tired smile to Seungcheol’s face.

Carefully, he eased onto the bed, hoping not to disturb them, but Jeonghan, ever the light sleeper, stirred almost immediately. His lashes fluttered open, and even in his groggy state, a small, affectionate smile curled his lips.

“You’re back,” Jeonghan murmured, his voice heavy with sleep. His hand found Seungcheol’s damp hair, brushing it back in a lazy gesture. “Did you eat?” he asked, his words slurring slightly.

Seungcheol chuckled softly, the sound barely a whisper in the quiet room. “Yeah, I ate earlier,” he replied, pressing a light kiss to Jeonghan’s forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

But Jeonghan’s arms were already wrapping around him, pulling him close. “Missed you,” he mumbled, his breath warm against Seungcheol’s neck. The embrace was loose yet grounding, and Seungcheol felt his body melt into the comfort of Jeonghan’s hold.

Joshua shifted slightly but didn’t wake, his hand unconsciously reaching out to rest on Jeonghan’s side, completing the quiet intimacy of their shared space. Seungcheol closed his eyes, his fatigue slipping away as warmth and familiarity wrapped around him like a cocoon.

There was something sacred about these moments, fleeting as they were. The world outside was chaotic and demanding, but here, in the quiet of their shared bed, everything felt whole. As Jeonghan’s breathing evened out and Seungcheol’s own eyelids grew heavier, he thought briefly of how lucky he was to have this—these two men who were his safe harbor.

Sleep came quickly, pulling him into a deep, dreamless slumber, the kind only found in the arms of the ones you love most.

The morning sunlight crept into the bedroom through the half-drawn curtains, casting soft golden hues over the cozy space. Seungcheol stirred awake, his body protesting the lack of sleep but his internal clock betraying him nonetheless.

Despite being the last to go to bed, his habit of waking up early rarely let him rest for long. Still, there was something comforting about mornings like this—wrapped in the warmth of the bed, the room still quiet except for the soft, even breathing of his husband.

Jeonghan’s arm was slung lazily around Seungcheol’s waist, holding him possessively as his body pressed close as the big spoon. Being the little spoon was a comfort he never thought he’d love so much—safe and cherished, held in the warm embrace of someone he trusted with everything. To others, it might be a surprise. Choi Seungcheol, the little spoon? But Jeonghan always teased that it suited him, and Seungcheol had to admit, he agreed.

Carefully, Seungcheol began to disentangle himself from Jeonghan’s grasp. The movement earned him a sleepy whine of protest as Jeonghan instinctively tightened his hold, seeking to pull him back into the cocoon of warmth they had shared all night.

“Mmm… stay,” Jeonghan murmured, his voice groggy and muffled against the pillow. His arm tightened briefly, pulling Seungcheol back against him.

A smile tugged at Seungcheol’s lips. “I wish I could,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to Jeonghan’s cheek. “But I have to get up.”

Jeonghan let out a dramatic groan, finally releasing his hold with a pout that Seungcheol couldn’t see but could definitely imagine. If it weren’t for the looming deadline on his project, he might have given in, curling back into Jeonghan’s arms to steal a few more minutes of blissful rest.

Seungcheol chuckled softly, running a hand through his messy hair as he glanced over his shoulder. He then padded quietly out of the bedroom, the hardwood floor cool under his bare feet as he made his way to the kitchen. The faint scent of cooking filled the air, and he wasn’t surprised to find Joshua already there, standing at the stove with his sleeves rolled up and a calm, focused expression on his face.

Joshua was always in charge of breakfast. It wasn’t a formal arrangement—they’d never sat down and assigned roles or chores—but it just happened that way. If Joshua didn’t cook, Seungcheol and Jeonghan had a bad habit of skipping breakfast altogether, grabbing a quick apple or juice if anything at all.

And Joshua had been keeping a close eye on Seungcheol this past week, knowing how often he’d been skipping meals to keep up with his demanding schedule. This morning, like many others, he made sure his husband would start the day with a full stomach.

Seungcheol approached quietly, careful not to disturb Joshua as he stirred the pan of sizzling stir-fried meat. The scent was mouthwatering, and Seungcheol’s stomach grumbled faintly, but he ignored it in favor of slipping his arms around Joshua’s waist. He rested his head against Joshua’s broad back, closing his eyes briefly as the warmth seeped into him.

“Morning,” Seungcheol murmured, his voice still heavy with sleep.

Joshua glanced over his shoulder, a soft smile spreading across his face. “Morning, love.” His tone was light, affectionate, as if they’d had all the time in the world instead of being halfway through a hectic week. He set the spatula down and turned slightly, leaning in to give Seungcheol a quick peck on the lips.

But Seungcheol pulled back at the last second, quickly covering his mouth with his hand. “Wait, wait! Morning breath,” he chimed, his words muffled behind his palm.

Joshua merely grinned, unbothered, and reached up to ruffle Seungcheol’s messy hair. “Go get ready for work, darling. I’ll finish up here,” he said, his tone gentle but firm.

“Hmmm.” Seungcheol hummed in agreement, reluctant to pull away but knowing he couldn’t linger forever. He pressed one last kiss to Joshua’s shoulder, murmuring, “Thanks for breakfast,” before retreating toward the bathroom to freshen up.

By the time he returned, dressed in comfortable work clothes and looking slightly more awake, Joshua had already set the table. Two plates of stir-fried meat, eggs, and rice sat neatly on the table, with glasses of freshly squeezed juice beside them. Seungcheol’s heart swelled at the sight—it was such a small thing, but it reminded him, yet again, how deeply Joshua cared.

As they ate, Joshua glanced at Seungcheol, his eyes filled with concern. “Are you sure you’re eating enough at work?” he asked, his tone soft but probing.

Seungcheol nodded as he chewed. “I am, I promise. But with the project almost done, I’ve been skipping some meals. I’ll make it up once this album is finished.”

Joshua frowned but didn’t press further. Instead, he reached out to place a reassuring hand over Seungcheol’s. “Make sure you do. You’re no good to anyone if you burn yourself out.”

When they were done, Joshua cleared the table while Seungcheol grabbed his bag from the hallway. “Do you want me to drive you to work?” Joshua offered, drying his hands on a towel as he leaned against the counter. “You’ve been working late—I don’t want you overdoing it.”

Seungcheol shook his head, his bag slung over one shoulder. “I’ll be fine. I might be back late again tonight—we’re in the final stretch.”

Joshua didn’t look pleased, but he knew better than to argue. Instead, he helped Seungcheol with his bag, straightening his collar and smoothing his shirt with the meticulous care only a loving husband could offer. “Take care, and don’t forget to text me when you get there,” Joshua said, his voice tinged with worry despite the calm expression on his face.

“I will,” Seungcheol promised. “And I’ll take a proper break after this week. I swear.”

Joshua gave him one last lingering look before pulling him into a hug. “You better. Otherwise, Jeonghannie and I will drag you on a vacation, deadlines be damned.”

Seungcheol laughed, the warmth of the moment carrying him as he stepped out the door and into the day ahead. Even with the chaos of his work life, he felt lighter, bolstered by the love and support waiting for him at home.

The chaos of the week had finally settled, leaving Seungcheol with nothing but time and the luxury of his flexible schedule. For the first time in what felt like forever, his phone wasn’t buzzing nonstop with deadlines, messages, or last-minute requests.

His first act of freedom was to collapse into bed and sleep like he hadn’t in years. He barely stirred for the entire day, much to the concern of his husbands. Jeonghan even hovered over him at one point, checking his temperature while Joshua prepared a light meal, worried that Seungcheol might be falling ill.

But Seungcheol assured them between drowsy murmurs that he was fine, just utterly exhausted from the previous week. “Just let me catch up on sleep,” he muttered into his pillow, his voice muffled but content. And sleep he did, waking only for meals before diving back under the covers.

By the second day, though, his energy began to return, and he spent the time at home lazing around, indulging in the luxury of doing absolutely nothing for once. He spent the day at home, moving only to eat, shower, and shuffle between the couch and the bed. It was indulgent in the best way, and by the time the third day rolled around, he felt like himself again—well-rested, recharged, and ready to return to a slower, steadier rhythm of life.

By the fourth day morning, Seungcheol decided to visit his studio. There wasn’t anything urgent to work on, but the quiet hum of creativity in the space always drew him back. Jihoon, his best friend and the head producer at their company, was already there when Seungcheol arrived, hunched over the mixing console with a look of laser focus.

“You’re back,” Jihoon said without looking up, his hands flying across the soundboard. “Thought you’d be in bed for another week.”

“Good morning to you too,” Seungcheol replied, dropping into the chair beside him. “Missed me already?”

Jihoon snorted. “You wish. I just like having someone around to double-check my mixes.”

Seungcheol grinned, leaning back in his chair. “That’s what I’m here for.”

The two of them spent the morning tinkering with tracks, fine-tuning vocals and testing beats for the company’s archive. There was no pressure, no looming deadlines, just the quiet camaraderie of two people who loved what they did. It reminded Seungcheol why he’d chosen this career in the first place—for moments like these, where the music spoke louder than anything else.

With his schedule finally cleared up, Seungcheol made it his mission to make up for all the time he’d missed with his husbands. Most of the days, Seungcheol alternated between driving his husbands to and from work, finding joy in the small moments of companionship. Sometimes, he’d pick up Jeonghan from the firm and listen as he vented about particularly stubborn clients or gushed about a case win. Other times, he’d drop Joshua off at the news agency, marveling at how effortlessly his husband juggled multiple deadlines without breaking a sweat.

Afternoons were another shared ritual. Seungcheol alternated lunch dates with his husbands, savoring the uninterrupted moments to catch up on their lives. With Jeonghan, lunch was often at chic cafes near his firm. They’d sit by the window, sharing stories while Jeonghan expertly dissected pastries with his fork, occasionally feeding Seungcheol a bite with a teasing smile. Joshua, on the other hand, preferred quiet restaurants tucked away from the city’s bustle. Their lunches were filled with easy conversation, punctuated by Joshua’s habit of slipping little snacks onto Seungcheol’s plate when he thought he wasn’t eating enough.

Evenings were the highlight of Seungcheol’s day. The three of them would gather in the living room, the couch their sacred space. Dinner was always a joint affair, whether it was a takeout feast spread out on the coffee table or a simple meal cooked together in the kitchen. Afterward, they’d settle in front of the TV, laughing at their favorite variety shows or getting far too invested in the twists of a drama series. Jeonghan often claimed the middle spot, stretching out like a lazy cat while Joshua and Seungcheol flanked him, each taking turns teasing him about his dramatic commentary.

One particularly cozy evening, as they lounged on the couch, Seungcheol found himself marveling at how perfect these moments felt. The grind of his career often pulled him away from home, but it was these quiet, unassuming nights that reminded him why he worked so hard in the first place.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Joshua asked, nudging him gently.

Seungcheol smiled, leaning his head back against the couch. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

“Damn right you are,” Jeonghan chimed in with a smirk, though his teasing was softened by the affectionate way he rested his head on Seungcheol’s shoulder.

Seungcheol laughed, reaching out to pull both of them closer. “I mean it. I couldn’t do any of this without you two.”

Joshua smiled warmly, his hand finding Seungcheol’s. “And we wouldn’t want to do any of this without you either.”

It was in these simple, unremarkable moments that Seungcheol found his greatest happiness. The chaos of his work would always be there, but so would the steady, unwavering love of the two men who made his house a home.

Weekends were blessings in Seungcheol’s household, a time reserved for family, relaxation, and occasionally, a gathering with their large, tightly knit group of friends. Their circle was a vibrant mix of personalities, each bringing their own energy to the group, and despite their busy lives, they made it a point to meet at least once a month.

Hosting duties rotated, ensuring no one household bore the brunt of preparation every time. This month, however, the occasion was special—it was Seungcheol’s birthday, and as the birthday boy, it was his turn to host the gathering.

The morning was a flurry of activity in their house as the three husbands prepared for the evening. Joshua took charge of the kitchen, his apron tied neatly as he moved effortlessly between chopping vegetables, marinating meat, and simmering sauces. His precision and skill turned cooking into an art form, and the spread he was preparing promised to be a feast.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan set up the grill in their backyard, where the smell of charcoal and sizzling meat would soon fill the air. His casual confidence with the tongs and his knack for managing the perfect char on every cut of meat made him the undisputed grill master of the group.

Seungcheol, on the other hand, focused on setting up the rest of the space. He arranged extra seating in the living room and the patio, ensuring there was enough room for their lively group. The drink station was meticulously stocked, with options ranging from wine and craft beers to non-alcoholic spritzers for those who preferred something lighter. Seungcheol’s meticulous attention to detail ensured that everything would be ready for their friends’ arrival.

The first to arrive was Seungkwan, Seungcheol’s younger brother, bounding through the door with his usual exuberance. “Hyung! Happy birthday!” he shouted, pulling Seungcheol into a bear hug before thrusting a gift bag into his hands. “Don’t open that until later,” he said with a sly grin.

Trailing behind him was Hansol, Seungkwan’s boyfriend, who worked alongside Seungcheol as a fellow producer at the company. Hansol offered Seungcheol a more subdued hug, his quiet nature a perfect foil to Seungkwan’s boundless energy. “Happy birthday, hyung,” he said with a warm smile.

Not long after, Joshua’s colleagues Myungho and Jun arrived. Myungho carried a bouquet of flowers, which he handed to Joshua with a cheerful “For the chef of the evening,” while Jun lugged in a basket of baked goods, his easygoing smile lighting up the room. They were a later addition to the group, having joined through Joshua’s work, but they had long since become integral members of the friend circle.

Jeonghan’s firm partner, Wonwoo, was next to arrive, accompanied by Mingyu, Seungcheol’s colleague from a different department. Mingyu also owned the gym Seungcheol frequented and was often the first to tease him about everything, growing up as neighbors since they were still a kid. “Happy birthday, old man,” Mingyu joked as he handed Seungcheol a bottle of whiskey. Wonwoo, ever the reserved one, simply nodded and offered his congratulations with a small smile.

The final group arrived in a burst of energy and noise. Seokmin and Chan, who worked alongside Jeonghan at the legal firm, came bearing a karaoke machine, a hint of what the night might hold. Behind them were Jihoon, and Soonyoung, a choreographer at the same company. The four of them barely made it through the doorway before the noise level in the house tripled.

“Happy birthday, hyung!” Seokmin sang, dragging Chan into the room as Jihoon trailed behind, looking mildly annoyed.

“Where’s the food?” Soonyoung asked immediately, peering around the kitchen like he’d been starved for days.

“It’s outside,” Joshua called from the patio, smiling as he waved the group toward the grill. “Jeonghan’s already working on it.”

“Great, because I’m starving,” Soonyoung declared, making a beeline for the backyard.

Jihoon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he handed Seungcheol a small, neatly wrapped gift. “Happy birthday, Cheol. Sorry in advance for whatever chaos Soonyoung causes.”

Seungcheol laughed, taking the gift and giving Jihoon a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Thanks, Jihoon-ah. Don’t worry, I’m used to it.”

By the time everyone had arrived, the house was filled with laughter and conversation. Most of the group had been friends since high school, their bonds deepened by years of shared experiences. Jun and Myungho, while newer to the group, had seamlessly integrated with their warmth and humor. Hansol and Chan, brought in through Seungkwan’s connections, were similarly at home among the boisterous friendship.

Out in the backyard, Jeonghan manned the grill with Mingyu by his side, the two swapping stories and friendly jabs as they cooked. Inside, Joshua served up plates of food with Myungho helping to garnish the dishes, their teamwork smooth and efficient. Seungcheol floated between groups, ensuring everyone was comfortable and had what they needed, though he often found himself pulled into spirited conversations or dragged into laughter by Soonyoung’s antics.

As the night wore on, the karaoke machine inevitably came into play. Seokmin and Seungkwan were the first to grab the microphones, belting out an overly dramatic duet that left everyone in stitches. Soonyoung quickly followed with an impromptu dance number, dragging a reluctant Jihoon into the spotlight, much to everyone’s amusement.

The night stretched on, the earlier laughter and chatter now softened into the slightly slurred, louder voices of people who’d had a drink—or five—too many. Empty bottles and glasses littered the patio table, a testament to the good time everyone was having. The air was warm, filled with the scent of lingering grilled meat and the occasional burst of laughter that rippled through the group.

It was during one of these lighthearted moments that Soonyoung zeroed his gaze to Seungcheol, who was reclining comfortably on the couch, nursing a half-empty beer. Soonyoung's eyes slightly glassy as his voice carried above the slow hum of their warmth surroundings. 

“Seungcheol-ah,” Soonyoung began, his words slurring just a little, “are you trying to become a bodybuilder or something?” He gestured wildly toward Seungcheol’s shoulders, the motion nearly making him spill his own drink. “Look at those! You’re gonna rip your shirt at this rate.”

That should’ve been the end of it, but Mingyu, who was lounging on the grass nearby, wasn’t about to let it go. “No, but seriously,” he said, his grin widening. “Hyung’s been at my gym so much lately, he might as well take over as manager. You’re there more than I am!”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Seokmin chimed in, leaning forward on his elbows, his face flushed from a mix of laughter and alcohol. “Is this why you’ve been working out so much, hyung? Are you trying to get even bigger? You’re already, like, two of me!”

The laughter grew louder as Soonyoung, Mingyu, and Seokmin continued their teasing, poking lightly at Seungcheol’s arms and shoulders. “Look at this! It’s like touching a brick wall,” Soonyoung said dramatically, pretending to wince as he pressed a finger into Seungcheol’s bicep. “How do you even fit into your shirts?”

The group erupted in laughter again, some of them clinking their glasses together as they piled onto the jokes. The jokes kept coming, one after another, piling up like the empty bottles on the table. At first, it was easy to laugh along, to brush it off as nothing more than harmless teasing. But as the minutes ticked by, the jokes started to feel heavier, sinking into a corner of Seungcheol’s mind he tried not to linger in.

The truth was, he had been working out more. With his schedule clearing up, the gym had become a convenient way to fill the hours, a routine he’d fallen into without much thought. And with it being his birthday month, he hadn’t been shy about accepting all the treats and meals his friends and family insisted on treating him to. The result? A bulkier frame, slightly snugger shirts, and, apparently, a new source of entertainment for his friends tonight. He hadn’t thought much of it before tonight, but now, with their laughter ringing in his ears, it was hard not to feel like every comment was highlighting a flaw.

He kept his smile firmly in place, but Jeonghan, seated beside him, caught the small cracks forming in his husband’s expression. The corners of Seungcheol’s mouth were still curved upward, but his eyes had dimmed, the laughter no longer quite reaching them. Jeonghan knew Seungcheol too well to miss the subtle shift—the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly, the way his eyes drifted to his drink as if it were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

Without a word, Jeonghan shifted closer, slipping an arm around Seungcheol’s waist and leaning in as though he were sharing a secret. “Alright, that’s enough,” he said, his voice light but firm as he waved a hand at the group. “Stop harassing my husband. He already knows he’s perfect. You don’t need to remind him.”

The others blinked at him, their drunken brains taking a moment to process the shift in tone. But the group was quick to break  into laughter again, but this time, the jokes turned toward Jeonghan. “Oh, come on, hyung,” Seungkwan teased, wagging a finger at him. “You only think that because you like being crushed by him at night.”

Jeonghan shrugged, unbothered, resting his chin on Seungcheol’s shoulder. “And? Not everyone can handle it, but I’m built different.”

“Jeonghannie,” Seungcheol said softly, glancing at him with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Don’t encourage them.”

Jeonghan grinned, pressing a quick kiss to Seungcheol’s temple before pulling away just enough to meet his eyes. “Let them say what they want,” he said, his voice quieter now, meant just for Seungcheol. “You look amazing to me, always.”

Seungcheol’s chest warmed, the heaviness he’d felt moments earlier fading into something softer, something lighter. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and pulled Jeonghan a little closer, letting their friends’ teasing wash over him without sinking in too much this time.

Joshua glanced between them, his brow furrowing slightly when he caught the faint tension still lingering in Seungcheol’s expression. He didn’t say anything, but the way his gaze softened made it clear that he noticed.

As the night wore on, the jokes eventually shifted to other topics—Mingyu’s disastrous attempt at baking last week, Soonyoung’s tendency to fall asleep in dance practice, and the time Seungkwan had accidentally walked into a glass door during a work meeting. The laughter continued, but Jeonghan stayed close, his hand resting lightly on Seungcheol’s knee, a quiet reassurance that didn’t need to be spoken aloud.

The days following the party brought a noticeable shift in Seungcheol’s routine. At first, Jeonghan and Joshua thought little of it—after all, everyone indulged a bit more than usual during birthdays, and Seungcheol was no exception. His decision to start a stricter diet seemed like a natural attempt to reset.

But the changes didn’t stop there. Breakfast, once a time for Joshua’s delicious, lovingly prepared meals, was now replaced by a single apple or, on some days, nothing at all. At lunch, Seungcheol picked at a bowl of salad or nibbled on a plain sandwich, his portions far smaller than usual.

Dinner was the most concerning—he skipped it entirely most nights, waving off Joshua’s cooking with a vague excuse about “not wanting to eat too late.” Instead, he’d sip on detox juices he’d found recipes for online, grimacing through each one but refusing to touch anything else. He claimed they were "cleansing," though Joshua, the better-informed cook, knew they lacked the nutrients his husband needed.

The shift in his exercise routine was equally jarring. Instead of his usual varied gym workouts, Seungcheol now opted for relentless cardio sessions, either jogging around the neighborhood or swimming endless laps at the local pool. On the rare occasions he went to the gym, he spent hours on the treadmill, running until his legs trembled with exhaustion.

Two weeks in, the changes were impossible to ignore. Seungcheol had shed most of the weight he’d gained during his birthday month, but he’d also lost the glow in his skin, the energy in his movements. His face looked sharper, his cheekbones more defined, but his eyes were dull, shadows etched beneath them like they’d been painted on.

It wasn’t just physical changes that concerned Jeonghan and Joshua. Emotionally, Seungcheol seemed distant. He laughed less, and his easygoing demeanor had been replaced by a quiet, almost distracted air. When they tried to confront him about it, his responses were always dismissive.

“I’m fine,” he would say, offering a small, unconvincing smile. “I just want to feel healthier.”

But they could see through his words. Seungcheol, for all his outward strength, had always been a sensitive soul. He internalized things more deeply than he let on, especially when it came to the opinions of those he cared about. The playful teasing at his birthday party, though harmless in intent, had left a mark—one that he now seemed desperate to erase.

Jeonghan decided he couldn’t stand by any longer. That evening, Joshua had made dinner—chicken stir-fry with rice—but Seungcheol had skipped it again, claiming he wasn’t hungry. Now, he was curled into the corner of the couch, scrolling through his phone while Jeonghan and Joshua exchanged a pointed look.

Jeonghan sat down beside Seungcheol on the couch, reaching for his husband’s hand. “Love,” he began softly, his voice tinged with concern, “you don’t need to do this. You’re already perfect to us.”

Seungcheol looked up, startled by the sudden statement. “What do you mean? I’m just trying to be healthier.”

“Healthier?” Jeonghan’s voice wavered slightly, though his grip on Seungcheol’s hand tightened. “Cheol, you barely eat. You’re running yourself into the ground. This isn’t healthy—it’s dangerous.”

Joshua, who had been quietly listening from the kitchen, joined them, sitting on Seungcheol’s other side. “Jeonghannie’s right,” he said gently. “You don’t need to change anything about yourself. We love you just the way you are.”

Seungcheol’s gaze darted between the two of them, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I’m fine,” he insisted, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him. “This isn’t about… that. I just want to take care of myself.”

Joshua sighed, leaning forward to look directly into Seungcheol’s eyes. “I don’t think that’s all it is, love. You’ve always been sensitive to what people say, especially the people you care about. Those jokes at the party—did they get to you?”

For a moment, Seungcheol didn’t respond. His gaze dropped to his lap, his fingers tightening around Jeonghan’s hand.

Joshua gently reached out, placing a gentle hand on Seungcheol’s knee. “We’re not saying this to upset you,” he said softly. “We just… we’re worried. You don’t have to prove anything to us. You’re beautiful, love. You always have been.”

Seungcheol continued to stare down at his hands, his thumb tracing absent patterns on the fabric of his pants. “I know,” he said eventually, his voice quieter now. “I know you’re worried. But I’m fine. Really.”

Jeonghan opened his mouth to argue, but Joshua shot him a look, shaking his head. It was clear that Seungcheol wasn’t ready to talk, at least not yet.

And so, they let it go—for now.

But as Seungcheol excused himself to shower and Jeonghan watched him disappear down the hallway, he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in his chest.

“Shua-yah,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “What are we going to do?”

Joshua sighed, leaning back into the couch with a troubled expression. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But we’ll figure it out. Together.”

Everything came to a halt one day, when Joshua received a call from Mingyu. He was in a meeting, and it was dragging on, the kind that made Joshua repeatedly glance at the clock, silently willing time to move faster. His phone buzzed on the desk beside him, the screen lighting up with Mingyu’s name. He ignored it at first, refocusing on the presenter’s words, but the buzzing came again a few moments later. Then again. And again.

By the fourth missed call, a knot of unease had formed in Joshua’s chest. Mingyu wasn’t the type to call repeatedly without a reason. Something was wrong.

He raised a hand, interrupting the discussion with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, I need to step out for a moment. Emergency.”

Without waiting for a response, Joshua grabbed his phone and left the room, his polished demeanor cracking just slightly as he pressed the answer button and brought the phone to his ear.

“Mingyu-yah? What’s going on?”

Mingyu’s voice came through the line, frantic and breathless. “Hyung, I’ve been trying to reach Jeonghannie hyung, but he’s not answering. I’m on my way to the hospital—Seungcheollie hyung fainted during a meeting.”

Joshua froze, his breath catching in his throat. “What?” he managed to choke out, his mind reeling. “What happened? Is he okay?”

“I don’t know yet,” Mingyu replied, his voice shaking. “He just collapsed out of nowhere. He looked pale earlier, but none of us thought it was this serious. The paramedics came quickly, and they’re taking him to the Gunsan University Hospital now. I’m following them.”

Joshua barely heard the rest. His hand tightened around his phone as the world seemed to tilt for a moment. Seungcheol. Fainted. Hospital. The words echoed in his mind like a dull roar, drowning out everything else.

“I’ll be there,” he said abruptly, cutting off Mingyu mid-sentence. Joshua didn’t even bother returning to the meeting room. Instead, he rushed to his office, grabbed his car keys, and sent a quick, hurried text to Jun: "Emergency. Can’t come back. Cover for me."

His heart pounded as he tried to focus, his mind spinning with fear and a thousand worst-case scenarios. As he jogged toward the parking lot, he fumbled for his phone to call Jeonghan. Joshua knew Jeonghan sometimes left his primary phone in his office during consultations, but their unspoken rule was to always keep the secondary or office line accessible for emergencies.

The phone barely rang once before Jeonghan picked up. “Shua-yah? What’s wrong?” His voice was calm, but Joshua could hear the undertone of tension. Jeonghan knew they only used this line for emergencies.

“It’s Seungcheollie,” Joshua said, his words spilling out in a panicked rush. “Mingyu just called. He fainted at work. They’re taking him to the hospital.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end, and for a moment, Joshua worried the call had dropped. But then Jeonghan spoke, his voice low and steady, though Joshua could hear the tension beneath it. “Okay. Okay, listen to me. Breathe, please. Where are you right now?”

“I’m heading to my car,” Joshua said, his words coming out in a rush. He fumbled with his keys as he approached the parking lot, his hands still shaking. “I’m leaving the office now. I don’t—”

“You’ll get there. Don’t panic,” Jeonghan interrupted gently but firmly. “Where are they taking him? Did Mingyu say?”

“Gunsan University Hospital,” Joshua answered, sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the engine. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, as if it could anchor him. “Hannie, I can’t—what if it’s serious? He’s been so tired lately, and I should’ve—We should’ve—”

“Joshua.” Jeonghan’s firm but soothing tone cut through his spiraling thoughts. “It’s going to be okay. Seungcheol’s strong, and he’s in good hands. Focus on getting to the hospital safely. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”

Joshua let out a shaky breath, nodding even though Jeonghan couldn’t see him. “Okay. I’ll see you there.”

“Drive safe,” Jeonghan said, his voice quieter now, the calmness wavering just slightly. “And Shua?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of him.”

The line disconnected, and Joshua stared at his phone for a moment before tossing it onto the passenger seat. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel, his mind racing as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

His heart was pounding, the fear gnawing at him with every mile. Every red light felt like an eternity, and the familiar roads seemed endless. All he could think about was Seungcheol—his bright smile, the way he always carried the weight of everyone else’s worries, the way he’d brushed off every concern about his sudden diet and workouts. They had tried to intervene, to reassure him that he didn’t need to push himself so hard. But had they done enough? Had they missed something critical?

The thought of Seungcheol lying unconscious, pale and fragile, sent a fresh wave of panic through him. Joshua clenched his jaw, forcing himself to focus on the road. This wasn’t the time to fall apart. All that mattered was getting to the hospital, getting to Seungcheol.

The faint sound of Jeonghan’s words echoed in his mind as he drove, steadying him like a hand on his shoulder.

We’ll take care of him.

They had to.

When Joshua arrived at the hospital, his heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of his chest. The bright, sterile lights of the waiting area were a harsh contrast to the blur of panic that had consumed him during the drive. He barely noticed the hum of activity around him, his focus narrowing as his eyes landed on Jeonghan and Mingyu.

Jeonghan stood at the reception desk, his body stiff with tension as he finished filling out paperwork. His usually graceful movements were hurried, his pen pressing harder than necessary on the forms. His brow was furrowed, and though he kept his composure, Joshua could see the faint tremor in his hand as he passed the clipboard back to the nurse.

Nearby, Mingyu sat slumped on a bench, his shoulders hunched and his head bowed. His usually bright and energetic demeanor was nowhere to be seen; instead, he looked exhausted and riddled with guilt. His foot tapped anxiously against the floor, his hands clasped tightly together.

Joshua hesitated for a brief moment, torn between going to Jeonghan and checking on Mingyu. But as if sensing his presence, Jeonghan glanced up, their eyes meeting across the waiting room. Jeonghan gave a small nod, silently telling Joshua to go to Mingyu while he finished handling things at the desk.

Joshua didn’t waste another second. He crossed the room quickly and sat down beside Mingyu, close enough to offer comfort but giving him enough space not to feel crowded.

“Mingyu-yah,” Joshua said softly, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside him. “Tell me what happened.”

Mingyu lifted his head, and Joshua’s chest tightened at the look on his face. His usually bright eyes were shadowed with worry, his lips pressed into a tight line that seemed on the verge of trembling.

“It all happened so fast,” Mingyu began, his voice low and strained. “We were in the middle of a meeting—just a regular meeting. Cheol-hyung was showing us some new tracks for a soloist we’re preparing to debut. He was fine at first—he looked a little tired, but nothing unusual. He was explaining the concept, playing the tracks for us…” Mingyu trailed off, his hands fidgeting in his lap.

Joshua leaned in slightly, his own hands gripping the edge of the bench. “And then?” he prompted gently.

Mingyu swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the floor. “And then he started to stagger. Like… like he couldn’t keep his balance. We thought maybe he was just dizzy—Jihoon even joked about taking a break—but then…” Mingyu’s voice cracked slightly, and he took a shaky breath. “He looked so out of it, hyung. Like he wasn’t even fully there. Jihoon and I tried to help him back to the couch, but before we could get him seated, he just—collapsed.”

Joshua’s stomach churned at the thought of Seungcheol collapsing, his strong, dependable husband crumbling under the weight of whatever he’d been silently carrying.

“At first, he refused to let us call an ambulance,” Mingyu continued, his words spilling out in a rush now. “He kept saying he was fine, that he just needed a minute. But then… he started slipping in and out of consciousness. Jihoonie hyung decided that we couldn’t wait, so he called for an ambulance.”

Mingyu looked down, his voice trembling slightly. “By the time the paramedic arrived, he wasn’t conscious anymore. And Jihoonie hyung told me to go to the hospital while he stayed back to finish the meeting and handle things.”

Joshua let out a shaky breath, processing the information. He placed a reassuring hand on Mingyu’s shoulder. “Jihoonie did the right thing, Mingyu-yah. Calling for help was the only thing you guys could do.”

Mingyu’s hands balled into fists, his knuckles white as his voice grew quieter. “I should’ve noticed sooner. He’s been so tired lately—skipping meals, working out too much. We all saw it, but no one said anything. And now…”

“Mingyu-yah,” Joshua interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. He reached out, resting a hand on Mingyu’s shoulder. “This isn’t your fault. You did the right thing by getting him here.”

“But—” Mingyu started, his voice thick with guilt.

“No,” Joshua said, squeezing his shoulder. “Listen to me. This isn’t anyone’s fault, okay? Cheol’s been pushing himself too hard, but none of us could’ve predicted this. What matters is that you got him here in time. That’s what’s important.”

Mingyu looked up at Joshua, his eyes glassy, and nodded reluctantly. “Okay,” he murmured, though the guilt still lingered in his expression.

Joshua exhaled slowly, leaning back slightly as he tried to process everything Mingyu had said. His mind raced, piecing together the signs they’d all seen but hadn’t fully acknowledged—Seungcheol skipping meals, overworking himself, pushing his body to its limits with endless workouts and jogs. They’d tried to intervene, but it hadn’t been enough. And now, they were here, waiting for answers they couldn’t control.

Jeonghan approached then, slipping the pen he’d been using into his pocket as he reached their side. His usual calm and playful expression was replaced by something heavier, more serious. But despite the tension in his shoulders, he reached out to place a comforting hand on Joshua’s arm.

“They’ve taken him in for tests,” Jeonghan said quietly. “The nurse said they’ll come find us once they know more.”

Joshua nodded, his jaw tightening. “Did they say anything else?”

Jeonghan hesitated, his gaze flickering toward Mingyu before meeting Joshua’s eyes. “They think it might be a mix of exhaustion and low blood sugar.”

Joshua’s grip on the bench tightened as a wave of guilt washed over him. He exchanged a look with Jeonghan, both of them knowing exactly what that meant. Seungcheol’s strict diet, his skipped meals, his endless detox juices—it had all led to this. And no matter how much they’d tried to talk to him, he’d brushed off their concerns, insisting he was fine.

Mingyu stood suddenly, his movements stiff. “I should go,” he said, his voice shaky. “I don’t want to get in the way.”

Jeonghan reached out to stop him, his expression softening. “Mingyu-yah, you’re not in the way. You can stay if you want.”

But Mingyu shook his head, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “I think I just… I need some air. Please call me if anything happens.”

Jeonghan and Joshua exchanged a glance before Jeonghan nodded. “We will. Get some rest, okay?”

Mingyu gave a small bow before turning and walking toward the exit, his shoulders slumped.

As soon as he was gone, Joshua let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. Jeonghan sat down beside him, resting a hand on his knee.

“He’s going to be okay,” Jeonghan said softly, as if trying to reassure himself as much as Joshua. “He’s strong. He’ll get through this.”

Joshua nodded, but his chest felt tight, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. “We have to help him, Hannie,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “We can’t let this happen again.”

Jeonghan squeezed his knee gently, his voice steady. “We won’t. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

And as they sat there in the waiting room, the sterile lights casting shadows across their faces, all they could do was wait.

It didn’t take long before the nurse appeared at the waiting room doorway, clipboard in hand. Her smile was polite but neutral as she approached Jeonghan and Joshua.

“Mr. Choi’s family?” she asked.

“Yes, that’s us,” Joshua said quickly, standing from his seat. Jeonghan rose beside him, his hand brushing Joshua’s arm as if to steady them both.

“The doctor will meet you shortly,” the nurse continued, her tone professional but kind. “For now, you can see him. Please follow me.”

Joshua and Jeonghan shared a brief glance before nodding in unison and following the nurse down the sterile hallway. The click of their shoes against the floor echoed softly, and the closer they got to Seungcheol’s room, the tighter the knot in Joshua’s stomach became.

When they reached the door, the nurse gestured for them to enter. “He’s awake now,” she said. “The doctor will be in shortly to discuss his condition.”

Joshua didn’t wait for further instructions, pushing the door open with Jeonghan right behind him. The sight inside made his breath hitch.

Seungcheol was lying in the hospital bed, looking pale and tired, but he managed a small smile when he saw them. His face was drawn, and there were faint shadows under his eyes, but there was still warmth in his expression, a quiet reassurance that somehow managed to settle some of Joshua’s nerves.

“Hey,” Seungcheol said softly, his voice a little hoarse. “I’m fine. You didn’t have to rush over like this.”

Joshua was at his side in an instant, pulling a chair closer to the bed as Jeonghan followed, settling on the other side.

“Hey, my love…” Jeonghan murmured, his frown deepening as he reached for Seungcheol’s hand. He immediately noticed how cold it felt, and his chest tightened. Seungcheol’s hands were always warm, the kind of warmth that had a way of grounding them both, but now…

Jeonghan rubbed his thumb gently over Seungcheol’s knuckles, trying to transfer some of his own warmth into the hand that now felt so unfamiliar. His gaze traveled over Seungcheol’s frame, taking in how much smaller and more fragile he looked now that he was lying there, connected to monitors and IVs.

“You scared us,” Joshua said, his voice quiet but firm, his brows furrowed as he studied Seungcheol’s face. “Why didn’t you tell us you were feeling this bad?”

Before Seungcheol could respond, there was a knock at the door, and the doctor walked in, a tablet in hand. She was a composed woman, her white coat pristine and her expression calm but focused.

“Good evening,” she greeted them, stepping closer to the bed. “I’m Dr. Yoo, the attending physician. I understand this has been a stressful day for everyone. Let me start by saying Seungcheol-ssi is stable now, but there are some things we need to discuss.”

Seungcheol gave a faint laugh, his voice carrying a note of embarrassment. “I told you, I’m fine. Jihoon and Mingyu were just overreacting,” he said, attempting to sit up. Jeonghan quickly placed a hand on his shoulder, gently keeping him in place.

The doctor raised an eyebrow, her expression firm. “I assure you, whoever called the ambulance weren’t overreacting, Seungcheol-ssi. You had just regained consciousness a few minutes ago, which is serious enough to warrant their concern.”

Joshua immediately stood, his worry spilling out in his words. “Doctor, can you tell us exactly what happened? Why did he faint?”

The doctor nodded, glancing at the chart in her hands. “Seungcheol fainted due to a combination of severe fatigue and low blood pressure. From what we understand, he’s been overexerting himself, not eating properly, and undergoing a strict diet that lacks adequate nutrition. That, combined with the stress on his body, caused his condition to spiral.”

Jeonghan shot Seungcheol a pointed look, his frown deepening. “I told you not to push yourself so hard. This is exactly what I was worried about.”

Seungcheol sighed, looking away. “I didn’t think it would be this bad,” he admitted quietly. “I mean, I’ve been tired before, but to this point.”

“That’s understandable,” Dr. Kim said, her tone calm but firm. “However, we also ran some additional tests, including blood work, as part of our standard procedure for fainting episodes. There’s something else we discovered, and it could explain why your body is responding so differently now.”

The tension in the room shifted, the weight of her words pressing down on all three of them.

“What do you mean?” Seungcheol asked, his brows knitting together. “Is there… something wrong with me, doctor?” His voice trembling slightly.

Dr. Kim hesitated for a moment, then tapped her tablet, pulling up a scan. “Not wrong,” she said carefully. “But unexpected.” She turned the screen toward them, showing them an image of what appeared to be an ultrasound scan.

“This is from an ultrasound we performed while Seungcheol-ssi was unconscious,” she explained. “Based on the scan, Seungcheol-ssi, you’re about five weeks pregnant.”

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap, echoing in the silence that followed. Seungcheol stared at the screen, his mouth slightly open, his expression frozen in disbelief.

Jeonghan blinked rapidly, leaning forward as if he hadn’t heard her correctly. “Wait, what?” he asked, his voice a mixture of shock and confusion. “Pregnant? As in… pregnant pregnant?”

Dr. Kim nodded, her expression steady. “Yes. It’s not uncommon for pregnancy to put additional strain on the body, especially in the early stages. Combined with your recent diet and exercise routine, it likely contributed to your collapse.”

Joshua’s hand flew to his mouth, his wide eyes darting between the ultrasound image and Seungcheol’s face. “Oh my God,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “You’re… pregnant.”

Jeonghan turned toward Seungcheol, his hand still gripping his husband’s, though his grip had tightened slightly. “Cheol,” he said softly, his voice wavering. “Say something.”

But Seungcheol remained silent, his eyes fixed on the screen as if he were trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

Dr. Kim lowered the tablet slightly, her tone gentle. “I understand this is a lot to process. I’ll leave you to talk, but I’ll be back shortly to discuss next steps.”

She gave them a polite nod before stepping out of the room, leaving the three of them alone with the news.

For a long moment, none of them spoke. The silence was heavy, broken only by the faint hum of the machines monitoring Seungcheol’s vitals.

Finally, Jeonghan broke the silence, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles as he looked at Seungcheol. “You’re carrying our baby,” he said softly, his voice tinged with awe.

Joshua blinked, his own shock melting into cautious joy. “A baby,” he repeated, the word feeling strange but wonderful on his tongue. “We’re… we’re going to be parents.”

Jeonghan laughed, the sound soft and shaky, and turned to Seungcheol, cupping his face gently. “Seungcheol-ah, this is amazing. I can’t believe it.”

But Seungcheol didn’t respond. His lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out.

Joshua reached out, placing a comforting hand on Seungcheol’s arm. “Sweetheart?” he said gently. “Are you okay?”

“I…” Seungcheol finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t… I don’t know what to say.”

Joshua smiled gently, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Then don’t say anything right now. Just know that we’re here for you. Always.”