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Chapter Text

Chapter 1

Seonghwa is a broke college student juggling late-night classes, a part-time job that barely covers rent, and the constant fear of getting kicked out of his apartment. When he answers a strangely formal babysitting listing promising “generous pay, flexible hours, and confidentiality,” he expects a demanding client, not a penthouse, a guarded driver, and Hongjoong.

Hongjoong is a single father and the CEO of NO1, one of the country’s top fashion companies. Between board meetings, runway deadlines, and media pressure, the role he struggles with most is being a parent. He doesn’t just need a babysitter. He needs someone reliable, kind, and completely outside his world.

Seonghwa doesn’t fit the image Hongjoong had in mind. He’s awkwardly polite, visibly exhausted, and clearly doing this job out of necessity. Still, the quiet attention he gives and the way Hongjoong’s child takes to him almost immediately creates a tension neither of them expects.

As Seonghwa settles into their routine, boundaries start to feel thinner than they should. Glances linger. Small touches last a little too long. Every shared task carries an unspoken weight. There’s a pull in the quiet moments, a careful awareness neither admits, as if the space between them is holding something waiting. Slow, deliberate, impossible to ignore.

For the first time in months, Hongjoong feels like he can breathe. And maybe, just maybe, something more than comfort is beginning to settle between them.

Chapter 1 — The Listing

Seonghwa stared at the job listing like it had personally insulted him.

Private household seeking a babysitter.

. Flexible hours.

. Generous pay.

. NDA required.

He rubbed his eyes. Between late-night classes and a part-time job that barely covered rent, he needed this. Desperation had overridden logic. “This is either a scam or the start of something terrible,” he muttered, clicking Apply.

The reply came within an hour. A polite email requesting an interview the next day. Address included. Dress code: casual but neat. Confidentiality required.

He spent the rest of the evening pacing his tiny apartment, running through what-ifs.

What if the kid hates me?

What if the parent is terrifying?

What if I trip on the stairs and die of embarrassment?

He groaned and flopped onto the bed. “Okay, breathe, Seonghwa. Just an interview. You’ve survived worse.” It didn’t make the pit in his stomach any smaller.

The next morning, Seonghwa spent a little extra time in front of the mirror. He brushed his silver hair until it fell just right, rolled on a light fragrance, tucked a neatly pressed shirt under a soft cardigan, and slipped into slightly worn sneakers. Practical, but with a touch of care that maybe wouldn’t go unnoticed. He checked his reflection one last time.

Not too messy. Not too ‘try hard’. Okay…good enough.

The building was more intimidating than anything he’d ever stepped into. Polished floors, glass walls, quiet luxury. A driver met him at the front desk and, without small talk, led him to the elevator. The silence was heavy, broken only by the soft click of his shoes against marble. Everything about the place spoke of wealth, order, and a life that wasn’t his.

When the doors opened, Seonghwa felt the shift immediately. Floor to ceiling windows and neutral colors made the apartment feel pristine and untouched, a reminder that he didn’t belong. Somewhere down the hall, a child’s laughter rang out, warm and unrestrained. The sound tugged at something in him, a mix of nerves, curiosity, and a strange longing he couldn’t place.

“Mr. Park?” a voice asked.

Seonghwa turned as a man approached. Young, sharp features, blonde hair catching the light. His eyes were tired but held a quiet intensity. 

“I’m Kim Hongjoong,” he said, offering a hand. His voice was raspy, softened by something warm. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

Seonghwa shook his hand, unsure where to look. At Hongjoong, whose calm presence made his stomach tighten, or at the small child who suddenly darted forward and clung to Hongjoong’s leg.

“Appa!”

Hongjoong’s expression softened instantly. He crouched slightly to ruffle the child’s hair, and Seonghwa found himself holding his breath. Commanding and gentle at the same time.

Seonghwa glanced between them, unsure whether to look away or risk staring. The child’s laughter echoed through the apartment, and Seonghwa realized his heart was doing something unexpected. Too fast. Too aware.

“Would you like some tea, water, or coffee?” Hongjoong asked, professional but kind.

“I’m fine, thank you, ” Seonghwa said, shifting his weight. Every step he’d taken that day suddenly felt heavier.

Hongjoong’s gaze flicked to him briefly before returning to the child. Seonghwa’s attention wandered despite himself, catching details he hadn’t meant to notice. The way the light caught in Hongjoong’s hair. The neat line of his jaw. The careful precision in his movements.

Focus. This is just a job. Just a job.

But the pull in the quiet moments and the warmth in the space made it hard to believe.

“I’m Seonghwa.. Park Seonghwa,” he said, forcing his voice steady.

And somehow, despite the nerves and the intimidation, Seonghwa already knew this wasn’t going to be just another job.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Seonghwa followed Hongjoong toward the dining table, hands fidgeting in his lap. The chair felt firm under him, the kind of chair he imagined could survive a toddler climbing it without complaint. He sat carefully, making sure his cardigan didn’t wrinkle.

Hongjoong remained standing for a moment, then took a seat across from him. There were no forms, no clipboard, just him.

“I’ll be straightforward,” Hongjoong said. “I don’t like wasting time. Yours or mine.”

Seonghwa nodded quickly. “Yes. Of course.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty two,” Seonghwa replied, voice steady despite the flutter in his stomach. “Third year in university. Night classes.”

Hongjoong made a small sound, half acknowledgement, half interest. “Experience?”

Seonghwa hesitated, then let honesty take over. “I’ve babysat before. Neighbors’ kids, cousins. Nothing official. But I’m good with routines, homework, meals….and listening.”

Hongjoong’s eyes lingered for a moment. Not skeptical. Not dismissive. Just quiet consideration.

“Why did you apply?” he asked.

“I need the money,” Seonghwa said quickly. Then softer, “But I also like kids. They’re straightforward. You know where you stand.”

Hongjoong gave a faint, almost imperceptible smile. “You’d be surprised how rare that is.”

He leaned back slightly. “I’m thirty two. I run a company. My schedule isn’t predictable.”

Seonghwa nodded. “I understand.”

“There are nights I won’t be home,” Hongjoong continued. “Sometimes I travel overseas. Occasionally I stay late at the office. I need someone who can handle that. Who won’t panic if plans change.”

“I can,” Seonghwa said, voice careful. “I think…”

Hongjoong’s expression softened slightly. “I hope so.”

“My daughter is seven,” he said. “Kim Seonyool. We call her Seonie.”

Seonghwa’s eyes instinctively glanced toward the hallway, imagining the child from yesterday, but the space was quiet.

“She likes bunnies, Legos, sweet treats, Star Wars,” Hongjoong added, the last part with a faint shrug. “I don’t get it. But she loves it.”

“I like Legos,” Seonghwa said softly.

Her father looked at him briefly, and for the first time he seemed almost relieved. “She’s social, but cautious. Likes to observe before she trusts someone. And she can be… persistent.”

“I understand,” Seonghwa said.

Hongjoong studied him. “Do you?”

Seonghwa paused, then nodded. “It takes time to decide if someone feels safe.”

“Good,” Hongjoong said. “And routines are important. She has meals at set times, homework, bedtime. She needs consistency. Can you do that?”

“I can,” Seonghwa said. “I’m… good with schedules. I like planning. It helps me stay calm too.”

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow slightly, noting the subtle ease in the way Seonghwa spoke about planning. “And when she wants to play?”

“Play is flexible,” Seonghwa said. “She can lead, I can follow. I like Legos, so building things would be fun.”

“Okay,” Hongjoong said. “You should know she loves talking. She asks questions. Sometimes a lot of questions. And she tests patience. Can you manage that?”

Seonghwa chuckled softly. “I can try.”

“I’ll tell you something else,” Hongjoong said, leaning forward slightly. “She likes small surprises. Little treats after homework. A kind word. Not every day, but sometimes. She notices details.”

“I like noticing details,” Seonghwa said quietly.

Hongjoong nodded once. “Important. And one more thing. Sometimes I won’t be home for days. Occasionally I might be called away suddenly. She’s seven. She’ll miss me. She needs someone stable, someone she can rely on when I’m not there. That’s what I’m asking of you.”

“I understand,” Seonghwa said. “I’ll be reliable.”

Hongjoong let the words hang for a moment. Then, standing, he said, “Good. Then let’s try this. Tomorrow morning, ten o’clock. I have a meeting at one, but I’ll be here for breakfast. I want to see how you manage things with her.”

Seonghwa blinked, heart skipping. “Breakfast?”

“Yes. I need to leave, but it’s a chance to see how you work with her. I’ll be gone shortly after. Think of it as your first real test.”

Seonghwa swallowed, then nodded. “I understand. I’ll be here.”

“Perfect,” Hongjoong said. “See you tomorrow, then.”

and with that Hongjoong sent Seonghwa off.

— The Next Day, 09:50am —

The next morning, Seonghwa arrived ten minutes early.

The building was more intimidating than when he had come yesterday. Polished floors, glass walls, quiet luxury. A driver met him at the front desk, and again, without small talk, led him to the elevator. The silence was heavy, broken only by the soft click of his shoes against the marble. Everything about the place spoke of wealth, order, and a life that wasn’t his.

Inside the elevator, Seonghwa’s reflection caught his attention in the polished metal walls. He straightened his cardigan, smoothed a stray strand of silver hair, and tried to steady his breathing. The quiet hum of the elevator felt louder than usual, echoing thoughts he hadn’t expected to have: about money, responsibility, and the child waiting for him upstairs.

When the doors opened, sunlight spilled across the polished floors. Somewhere down the hall, a small voice rang out, cautious but curious.

“You’re back.”

Seonie stood a few feet away, holding a stuffed rabbit by one ear. She did not run forward this time. Just watched him with open curiosity, head tilted slightly, as if deciding whether he was someone safe to approach.

“I am,” Seonghwa said carefully. “Good morning.”

Her eyes sparkled faintly, and she gave a small nod before returning to arranging her Legos, still keeping him in her peripheral vision.

“Breakfast is almost ready, Seonie-ah why don't you show Seonghwa your little toys?” Hongjoong said from the kitchen. He looked more relaxed today, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messy.

Seonie grinned at him. “Show him?” Seonghwa thought to himself.

He followed her cautiously toward the living room. A large bin of Legos waited.

“You like Legos?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“I do,” Seonghwa said. “Very much.”

Her eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yes.”

She tipped the bin, spilling blocks everywhere. She began sorting them by color and shape, cautious but decisive. Seonghwa crouched beside her, picking up pieces, adjusting them according to her directions. He realized how much he liked the rhythm of it, the quiet problem-solving, the way they communicated without needing too many words.

From the kitchen, Hongjoong watched silently, sipping coffee, arms crossed loosely. He noticed the careful attention Seonghwa gave her, the patience in his movements. He also noticed the

small smiles exchanged, the shared glances over tricky pieces, the way his daughter relaxed when he did.

“You’re good with her,” Hongjoong said quietly.

“She’s easy to like,” Seonghwa replied, brushing a stray block off the floor.

“She doesn’t open up that fast,” Hongjoong said, eyes softening.

“She didn’t. She just decided,” Seonghwa said.

Time passed. The Lego spaceship house grew slowly under their hands. Seonie talked constantly now, describing adventures for the spaceship, telling him about school, about her rabbit, about her favorite colors. She laughed when he got a block wrong, teasing him lightly. Seonghwa laughed back, gentle, careful.

Breakfast came together easily. Toast, juice, small treats saved for after. Seonie insisted the Lego house remain on the table. “So it doesn’t fall.”

Seonghwa helped her with little tasks, pouring juice, handing toast. Hongjoong stayed only for a little while, watching. Before leaving, he crouched to ruffle Seonie’s hair. “Take care of each other,” he said softly. Then he left, keys and bag in hand, leaving the apartment in Seonghwa and Seonie’s care.

The door clicked shut behind Hongjoong, and the apartment settled into a quieter rhythm.

Seonghwa stood still for a moment, suddenly aware that it was just the two of them now. No buffer. No polite supervision. Just him and a seven year old girl sitting cross legged on the floor, surrounded by Legos.

Seonie glanced toward the door, then back at him.

“Appa will be back,” she said, more statement than question.

“I know,” Seonghwa replied. “He said he would.”

She nodded, satisfied, and returned her attention to the Lego pile. She pushed a handful of pieces toward him without looking. An offering.

“Build,” she said.

Seonghwa hesitated only briefly before sitting down properly. He picked up a few pieces, turning them over in his hands. Familiar shapes. Familiar clicks. Something in his shoulders loosened.

“What are we building?” he asked.

Seonie frowned slightly, as if that should have been obvious. “A ship.”

“A ship,” Seonghwa repeated. “Okay.”

She watched him carefully as he started connecting pieces, testing him. When he reached for a piece she had already claimed, her hand shot out, quick but not aggressive.

“That one’s important,” she said.

“Ah,” Seonghwa said immediately, withdrawing his hand. “Sorry.”

She studied his face, perhaps waiting for annoyance. When none came, she nodded again and handed him a different piece instead. A quiet compromise.

“This goes here,” she said, pointing.

Seonghwa followed her instructions, clicking the piece into place. She leaned closer, inspecting his work.

“You’re doing it right,” she decided.

Relief fluttered in his chest. “I’m glad.”

They worked in silence for a few minutes, the sound of plastic clicking together filling the space. Seonghwa noticed how methodical she was, sorting pieces by size and color, creating small piles. He mirrored her movements instinctively, lining things up the same way.

She noticed.

“You like it neat,” she said.

“I do,” Seonghwa admitted. “It helps me think.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “Me too.”

That felt like a small victory.

She scooted closer, knees brushing his side briefly before she settled. She didn’t pull away. Just continued building, occasionally glancing at him to make sure he was still there.

“This ship goes to space,” she announced. “But also the ocean.”

“That’s impressive,” Seonghwa said. “A multi environment vehicle.”

She blinked. “A what?”

“It can do more than one thing,” he explained gently.

“Oh,” she said, clearly pleased. “Yes. That.”

She handed him another piece. This one small and oddly shaped.

“What does this do?” Seonghwa asked.

She tilted her head, thinking. “It makes it go faster.”

“Very important, then.”

She smiled at that. Not a big one. Just a small curve of her mouth, like she was trying not to be too obvious about liking him.

As the structure grew, so did her chatter. She talked about school, about a girl who sat next to her, about how her teacher didn’t understand Star Wars properly. Seonghwa listened, responding when needed, laughing softly when she made jokes he didn’t expect.

“You don’t talk a lot,” she said suddenly.

Seonghwa paused, considering. “I talk when I need to.”

She considered that. “Appa talks when he has meetings.”

Seonghwa smiled. “That makes sense.”

She leaned back on her hands, studying the ship. “Do you like staying here?”

He answered honestly. “I do.”

She looked at him again, a little more seriously now. “You’re not loud.”

“I try not to be,” he said.

She nodded. “That’s good.”

The words felt heavier than they should have. Approval, simple and sincere.

She reached for her stuffed rabbit and tucked it under her arm, then picked up a tiny Lego figure.

“This one is the captain,” she said. “That’s you.”

Seonghwa blinked. “Me?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “Because you follow the rules.”

He laughed quietly. “I do like rules.”

She placed another figure beside it. “That’s me.”

“And this one?” Seonghwa asked, lifting a third.

“That’s Appa,” she said without hesitation. “He’s busy but he comes back.”

Something warm settled in Seonghwa’s chest. “He does.”

They finished the ship slowly. Carefully. When it was done, Seonie clapped once, satisfied.

“It’s good,” she said.

“It is,” Seonghwa agreed. “You did a great job.”

She beamed then, full and unrestrained. She leaned into his side without thinking, her shoulder resting against his arm.

Seonghwa froze for half a second before relaxing, staying perfectly still so he wouldn’t scare her off.

“You can stay,” she said quietly.

Seonghwa swallowed. “I’m glad.”

She yawned, sudden and dramatic, then curled closer, rabbit tucked under her chin.

“Appa said you’ll come again,” she murmured.

“I will,” Seonghwa promised.

She nodded, already half drifting. “Okay.”

As she settled, Seonghwa looked around the apartment. The Legos scattered across the floor. The quiet hum of the city outside. The small weight leaning against him.

He realized then that this wasn’t just about responsibility or money anymore.

It was about trust.

And somehow, without realizing when it happened, Seonghwa had earned a piece of it.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Somewhere across the city, Hongjoong sat through a meeting he barely remembered agreeing to.

He glanced at his phone for the third time in ten minutes.

No messages.

He told himself that was good. That silence meant things were fine. That Seonghwa was doing his job, that Seonie was safe, that this was exactly why he : has agreed to a trial run instead of hovering like an anxious wreck.

Still, when the meeting paused, Hongjoong typed quickly under the table.

HJ : 

Everything okay?

The reply did not come immediately. 

He exhaled slowly, rubbing his thumb against the edge of his phone. He hated this part. Being away. Trusting someone else with the most important thing in his life while the world demanded his attention elsewhere.

When the reply finally buzzed in, he read it twice.

SH: 

Yes. We're building legos right now. She’s very good at it. 

Hongjoong smiled before he could stop himself. 

He slipped the phone faced down and refocused, if only barely.

——

Back at the apartment, Seonghwa remained still long after Seonie had fully relaxed against him.

Her breathing evened out, soft and steady. The weight of her head rested against his upper arm, rabbit tucked close, one small hand curled into the fabric of his cardigan as if she had claimed it without realizing. 

He did not move.

He counted his breaths instead, slow and careful, afraid that any sudden shift in movement would wake her or make her pull away.

After a few minutes, he carefully reached for his phone with his free hand and typed.

SH: 

She fell asleep on me.

He hesitated, then added.

SH:

Is that okay ?

The reply came faster this time.

HJ: 

That’s more than okay. Thank you for telling me.

Seonghwa let out a breath he had not realized he was holding.

He looked down at Seonie again. At the faint crease between her brows even in sleep. At the way, she trusted him enough to rest like this, unguarded.

It felt heavy, Important.

He stayed there until his legs started to tingle, until the city noise softened into something distant, until the apartment felt less like a borrowed space and more like a place that could hold quiet moments like this.

——

Hongjoong did not usually check the cameras during work hours.

They were there for emergencies. For peace of mind when he traveled. For nights when anxiety refused to stay quiet.

Today counted. 

He waited until he was alone in his office, door closed, blinds half drawn. He opened the feed on his tablet, telling himself it would be a quick look. Just to confirm everything was fine.

The living room camera loaded.

Seonghwa was sitting on the floor, back against the couch. Seonie slept against his side, legs curled, rabbit clutched to her chest. The Lego ship sat finished in front of them, slightly lopsided, pieces mismatched in a way that made it perfect.

Seonghwa’s posture was careful. Protective without trying to be. One arm rested loosely around Seonie’s shoulders, not holding her down, just there. Like he understood that trust was something you supported, not claimed. 

Hongjong stared.

He felt it then. That unfamiliar tightness in his chest. Relief, first and strongest. His daughter looked peaceful. Safe. 

Then something else followed. Quieter. More unsettling.

The apartment looked different like this.

Lived in.

He did not remember the last time Seonie had fallen asleep outside her room. Or the last time someone else had been the one she chose to lean on.

Honjoong closed the feed after a moment, longer than necessary.

He leaned back in his chair, pressing his fingers to his temple.

This was supposed to be simple.

——

When Hongjong returned that evening, the apartment greeted him with the soft sounds of life instead of silence.

Laughter, light and bright.

He paused just inside the door.

Seonie was on the couch now, awake and animated, legs folded under her as she talked rapidly, Seonghwa sat on the floor in front of her, listening intently, nodding at the right moments, occasionally asking questions that made her grin wider.

“There you are,” Hongjoong said quietly. 

Seonie’s head snapped up.”Appa!”

She slid off the couch and ran to him, arms wrapping around his waist. He bent instinctively, pressing a kiss to her hair.

“She’s been quizzing me on Star Wars,” Seonghwa said, standing.”I like it too, but she says liking it isn’t the same as knowing it,.”

“That's because you don’t,” Seonie said firmly.

Hongjoong laughed, genuine and surprised.

He looked at seonghwa then, really looked.

The cardigan serves were pushed up slightly. There was a faint smudge of color on his fingers, marker or lego residue, he could not tell. His silver hair had fallen out of place, soft and real.

Comfortable.

“Thank you,” Hongjoong said quickly but sincerely.

Seonghwa nodded. “Thanky you for trusting me.”

Their eyes met for a brief moment longer than necessary.

Something unspoken passed between them. Not romance. Not yet.

Understanding.

Later, when Seonghwa gathered his things to leave, Seonie followed him to the door.

“Youre coming back,” she said.

“yes,”Seonghwa replied without hesitation.

She smiled, satisfied.

As the door closed behind him, Hongjoong stood for a long moment in the quiet that followed.

The apartment did not feel empty.

And that realization stayed with him long after the lights dimmed.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

Seonghwa pressed the apartment buzzer and waited. The elevator hummed quietly as it descended to the lobby, and he felt the familiar tightness in his stomach. Today was different. Hongjoong had left instructions: be here at ten, he would have breakfast with them before leaving work at one.

The door clicked open, and Seonie’s voice floated out almost immediately. “You’re back!”

She stood a few feet away, holding her stuffed rabbit by the ears. She didn’t run forward this time, just watched him with open curiosity, head tilted slightly.

“I am,” Seonghwa said carefully. “Good morning.”

Her eyes swept over him, noting the small crease of worry in his brow and the gentle stiffness in his shoulders. She seemed satisfied that he had returned.”Breakfast?” she asked, already moving toward the kitchen.

“Ah, yes..” Seonghwa replied, following. “Do you want to help?”

“Of course!” she said, hopping onto a stool and swinging her legs. She looked over the counter at him. “You don't know where anything is, do you?”

Seonghwa smiled faintly. “Not everything.”

They spent the next few minutes gathering bowls and fruit, with Seonie giving very detailed instructions. “Cut the strawberries like this, not that” “pour the cereal carefully, it spills if you’re not paying attention.”

Seonghwa followed her directions diligently, and she nodded approvingly at his careful hands.  It was strangely comforting to watch her take charge, but not in a way that undermined him.

While they ate, conversation flowed more easily than he expected. Seonie talked about school, a friend who refused to share stickers., and her latest obsession: Star Wars.

“I told Appa you have to know the names,” she said, rolling her eyes."You can't just like it and pretend.”

Seonghwa laughed quietly."I know. I actually like it too, but apparently that doesn’t matter.”

“That’s because you don't,"Seonie said firmly, like she had just delivered a final verdict.

Honjoong , seated at the table with a steaming cup of coffee, glanced up and smiled at Seonghwa. There was pride there, quiet and protective. He had seen this side of them already, but somehow it was warmer in person, unguarded.

After breakfast, Hongjong checked his watch."I need to head to the office soon. Can you handle the morning with her?”

Seonghwa nodded."Yes, of course.”

“Good. I'll be back later, but I'll check in if needed. Don't let her destroy the apartment,” he teased lightly, ruffling Seonie’s hair before heading toward the door.

The door clicked shut behind him. Silence, except for the city hum and the faint ticking of the wall clock.

Seonie immediately returned to the floor, legos spread out in colorful chaos.

‘Build?” she asked.

Seonghwa knelt down beside her, picking up a piece.”yes.what are we building today?”

“A space station. But also underwater and it flies,” she said confidently.

“That’s,,,a very versatile station,” he said.

She smirked."Of course. Multi-environment. You need to keep up, Seonghwa.”

He chuckled, connecting two blocks. “I think I can manage.”

As they built, she leaned closer, occasionally nudging him with her knee or holding up a piece for him to fit. The Star Wars discussion from yesterday resurfaced.

“Remember what I told you about the Millennium Falcon?"she asked, holding a small lego piece.

Seonghwa grinned, recognizing the reference immediately."Yes.And I actually remembered it this time.”

She blinked at him, impressed."Finally."

Minutes passed, the Lego clicks punctuating quiet laughter and small jokes. Seonie handed him a tiny figure. “That’s you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Me?”

“Yes,” she said firmly.

“And this one?” he asked, holding another figure.

“That’s me,” she said. “And that’s Appa.”

Seonghwa felt a warmth settle in his chest, subtle but undeniable.

Later, as she got up to fetch a snack, Seonghwa took a moment to glance around the apartment. Sunlight spilled over the floorboards, catching the scattered Lego pieces. It felt lived-in now, even in its pristine elegance. Somehow, he belonged here, not entirely, but enough.

His phone buzzed. A message from Wooyoung.

WY: 

Hyung! Are you free right now?? 

Let’s grab something to eat!

My treat ~ 😋

SH:

Sorry youngie, im not free rn

Im babysitting

Remember the one I told you abt?

WY:

Already? How’s it feel to be a full-time nanny for a CEO’s kid?

Seonghwa smiled faintly, thumbs tapping back.

SH:

 She’s… not bad. Pretty bossy, actually.

WY:

Ahh..so you’re officially enslaved by a seven-year-old. 

Classic.

SH:

It’s not like that…

WY:

Sure sure.

Just don’t let her put you in timeout

or worse..

recruit you for her Lego army…..

Seonghwa grinned.

SH:

You know… she’s kind of… cute

WY:

Ha!

I knew it !!

Just don’t fall in love with the kid’s dad too quickly~~

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, hiding a small laugh. Noted.

He put the phone down just as Seonie returned, crumbs on her fingers. They spent the rest of the morning finishing the Lego station, adjusting small details, and sharing ideas about spaceships and underwater engines.

Meanwhile, Hongjoong’s POV flickered in and out via CCTV. He watched quietly, relief and pride warming him unexpectedly. Seonie leaned against Seonghwa while stacking pieces, and the way Seonghwa let her settle there without flinching told him more than words could. He sent a quick text to check in.

HJ:

All good so far?

Seonghwa replied

SH:

Yes, she’s perfect. And bossy.

Hongjoong smiled, his thumb hovering over the screen before he put the phone down. Good.

By the time lunch rolled around, Seonie curled up on the couch with her stuffed rabbit, tired but happy. Seonghwa sat nearby, sipping a glass of water, thinking about how different this day had been from any other he’d had in a long time.

The apartment was quiet now, filled with the soft rhythm of contentment. He realized slowly that the day had gone well, that he could handle her — and maybe, just maybe, that this little family-like rhythm could grow into something even steadier over time.

The click of the front door announced Hongjoong’s return. Seonie’s eyes lit up immediately. Seonghwa smiled softly, standing.

“Appa’s back,” he said.

And as they moved to greet him together, something unspoken passed between all three of them, a quiet understanding, trust earned in small moments, and the promise of more days like this.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

Seonghwa liked arriving early.

Not because he enjoyed mornings. He did not. But there was something comforting about classrooms before they filled. Chairs still tucked in. Whiteboard clean. The air untouched by noise. It gave him time to settle, to exist without having to respond to anyone yet.

Wooyoung did not share this sentiment.

“You’re insane,” Wooyoung said, collapsing into the chair beside him with a thud. “It’s eight thirty. Nothing good happens at eight thirty.”

“You came,” Seonghwa pointed out.

“I came because Yeosang said there was a new transfer student,” Wooyoung replied, already twisting around in his seat to scan the room.

Yeosang, seated behind them, sighed quietly. “I said there were two.”

Wooyoung froze. Slowly turned back. “Two?”

“Yes.”

Wooyoung straightened immediately. “Why didn’t you start with that?”

Seonghwa hid his smile behind his notebook.

The lecture hall filled gradually. Familiar faces. Familiar noise. Seonghwa lined up his pens carefully, the way he always did, adjusting them until they sat evenly. He checked his phone once, habit more than need.

No new messages.

He was not disappointed. Just aware.

The professor entered, followed by two unfamiliar figures.

Conversation dipped. Heads turned.

Seonghwa looked up.

The first thing he noticed was height. Broad shoulders. Calm posture. The man walked in like he knew where he was going, even if he didn’t. His expression was polite, neutral, guarded in a way that felt intentional.

The second man beside him looked nothing like that.

He was even taller than the first. He was loud even without speaking. All sharp movements and restless energy, leaning in to whisper something that made the shorter one sigh faintly.

Wooyoung leaned across Seonghwa’s desk. “Oh.”

Seonghwa blinked. “What.”

“That one,” Wooyoung said quietly, eyes locked on the taller transfer student. “That one is dangerous.”

Yeosang hummed in agreement. “He looks like he bites.”

“I was thinking more… stares,” Wooyoung replied.

The professor cleared his throat. “Before we begin, we have two new students joining us today. Please introduce yourselves.”

The broader one stepped forward first.

“My name is Choi San,” he said. His voice was steady. Calm. “I transferred this semester.”

He bowed slightly, respectful.

Something about the simplicity of it caught Seonghwa’s attention. No extra words. No explanation.

The second one grinned and waved. “Song Mingi. Nice to meet you.”

The contrast was immediate.

Murmurs rippled through the room as they took their seats. San chose a spot a few rows down. Mingi dropped into the chair beside him like he belonged there already.

Wooyoung watched San like he was afraid to blink.

Yeosang leaned forward slightly. “You’re staring.”

“I am observing,” Wooyoung corrected.

Seonghwa returned his attention to the lecture, though he found himself aware of movement elsewhere. San sat still, hands folded, eyes forward. Focused in a way that felt practiced.

He reminded Seonghwa of someone.

The thought startled him.

Class passed quietly. Notes taken. Pages turned. When it ended, Wooyoung was already halfway out of his seat.

“I’m going to talk to him,” he announced.

“Which one,” Yeosang asked.

Wooyoung scoffed. “Please.”

San stood as they approached. Up close, he was even more intimidating. Sharp eyes. Careful expression. He looked like someone used to being watched.

Wooyoung stuck out his hand. “Jung Wooyoung.”

San blinked once before accepting it. “Choi San.”

“You’re new,” Wooyoung said brightly.

“Yes.”

“I like your vibe.”

San looked faintly confused. “Thank you.”

Mingi snorted beside him. “Does he do this to everyone?”

Wooyoung flashed a cheeky smile before he turned to look at Mingi. “And you are.”

“Mingi,” he said easily. “Nice to meet you.”

Yeosang nodded politely. Seonghwa followed, offering a small bow. “Park Seonghwa.”

San’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer than the others. Not intrusive. Just curious.

“Nice to meet you,” San said.

There was a weight to it that Seonghwa could not place.

They parted shortly after. Wooyoung practically vibrating.

“He said thank you,” Wooyoung whispered. “Did you hear that?”

Yeosang rolled his eyes. “You fall in love too fast.”

“I fall appropriately.”

Seonghwa smiled faintly, slipping his phone from his pocket as they walked.

A message blinked onto the screen.

HJ:
She ate all the strawberries and said it was your fault.

Seonghwa’s lips curved without permission.

He typed back quickly.

SH:
I warned you she would do that.

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

HJ:
She’s building something new. Says it’s a ship again.

Seonghwa paused.

SH:
Ocean and space?

HJ:
She said you’d understand.

His chest warmed. Quiet. Unrushed.

— —

At work, Hongjoong adjusted his jacket as he stepped out of the elevator.

Yunho was already waiting, tablet in hand.

“Good morning,” Yunho said. “Your first meeting is in twenty minutes. Mr Song is here.”

“Already?,” Hongjoong replied. “Send him in.”

Mingi entered moments later, grin easy, shoulders relaxed.

“You’re early,” Hongjoong noted.

“I had something to drop off,” Mingi said. “Also I’m picking someone up later.”

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been busy.”

Mingi shrugged. “Always.”

San appeared shortly after, bowing politely. “Good morning.”

Hongjoong studied him briefly. Capable. Quiet. Familiar.

Yunho moved seamlessly, offering coffee, passing documents. Mingi watched him when he thought no one noticed.

Hongjoong noticed.

Later, as the day wore on, Hongjoong checked the security feed without really thinking about it.

The living room camera was quiet. Sunlight across the floor. Legos scattered.

Seonie sat curled against Seonghwa’s side, rabbit tucked under her arm, head resting comfortably against him as he flipped through a book with one hand.

She looked peaceful.

Seonghwa looked careful. Still. Like he was holding something precious.

Hongjoong exhaled slowly.

— — 

At school, Seonghwa packed his bag, mind already half elsewhere.

Wooyoung leaned close. “You okay?”

“Yes,” Seonghwa said honestly.

And for once, it felt true.

The world was expanding. People crossing paths. Threads tightening.

And somehow, Seonghwa was standing right in the middle of it.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

Seonghwa learned quickly that mornings in the apartment had their own rhythm.

It was quieter than the city outside. Softer. The kind of quiet that felt intentional, like the walls themselves were holding their breath. Sunlight filtered through the wide windows in pale streaks, touching the kitchen counter, the dining table, the Lego pieces left scattered from the night before.

Seonie sat at the table, feet dangling, a bowl of cereal placed neatly in front of her.

She did not touch it.

Seonghwa noticed immediately. He always did. The spoon resting untouched at the edge of the bowl. The milk settling. The way she stared at it like it had personally disappointed her.

“You don’t want it?” he asked gently.

She poked one piece with the tip of her spoon, then nudged the bowl away. “No.”

Just that. No tantrum. No explanation.

Seonghwa nodded, accepting it like a complete answer. He pulled out the chair across from her and sat down, hands resting loosely on his knees.

“Do you want something warm instead?” he asked after a moment.

She looked up, eyes widening just a little. “You can cook?”

“A little,” he said. “If you want.”

She hesitated. Thought hard about it. Then nodded once. “Okay.”

Seonghwa stood and washed his hands carefully, even though he already had earlier. He checked the fridge, taking his time, reading labels, choosing something simple. Eggs. Bread. A small jar of honey tucked behind the milk.

He moved quietly around the kitchen. No clatter. No rush. The pan warmed slowly. Eggs cracked cleanly. He stirred like he was afraid of breaking something fragile.

Seonie watched from her chair, chin resting in her palms.

“Appa makes cereal when he’s busy,” she said casually.

Seonghwa glanced at her, then back at the stove. “That makes sense.”

She waited, like she expected more. When none came, she relaxed slightly.

“We have time this morning,” he added.

That seemed to do something. Her shoulders dropped. She nodded again.

When he placed the plate in front of her, she studied it seriously. Took one bite. Chewed slowly.

“It’s okay,” she decided.

Relief settled quietly in his chest.

Later, Hongjoong emerged from his room already dressed for work, phone in hand, tie half adjusted. He paused when he saw the empty cereal bowl still on the counter.

“She didn’t want cereal?” he asked quietly.

“No,” Seonghwa replied. “I made eggs.”

Hongjoong glanced at Seonie, who was licking honey off her finger with zero shame. “Did you eat?”

She nodded. “He cooks.”

Hongjoong blinked once. Then smiled faintly. “Good.”

He checked his watch. “I’ll be busy during the weekdays. Meetings run late. Sometimes I can’t pick her up on time.”

Seonghwa looked up. “She has school nearby, right?”

“Yes,” Hongjoong said. “On weekdays she’ll be there until the afternoon. On weekends…” He paused. “I’d like you to stay the full day, if that’s okay.”

Seonghwa nodded without hesitation. “That’s fine.”

Hongjoong studied him for a second longer, something thoughtful in his gaze. “I’ll make sure you have the schedule.”

“Okay,” Seonghwa said simply.

After Hongjoong left, the apartment settled again.

They returned to the living room, Legos still spread across the floor. Seonie sat down cross legged immediately, already sorting pieces. Seonghwa joined her, mirroring her movements without thinking.

She built faster today. More precise. When a piece didn’t fit, she frowned, pulled it apart, tried again.

It still didn’t work.

She huffed softly. Not loud. Just frustrated.

Seonghwa waited.

She pressed harder. The piece snapped loose and slid across the floor.

She froze. “I did it wrong.”

“It’s okay,” Seonghwa said calmly. “Do you want to fix it or start over?”

She stared at the pieces for a long moment, then shook her head. “I don’t want it anymore.”

He nodded. “That’s okay too.”

She looked at him carefully, like she was checking for something. When she didn’t find what she expected, her shoulders eased.

She scooted closer. Not touching. Just closer.

They sat quietly. Seonghwa picked up a few pieces and began rebuilding slowly, deliberately.

“This one makes it stronger,” he murmured. “So it doesn’t fall apart.”

She watched. Listened.

Eventually, she handed him a piece. Not an important one. Just a small one.

He took it carefully. “Thank you.”

Later, in a glass-walled office overlooking the city, Hongjoong excused himself from a meeting and checked his phone.

HJ:

How’s the morning?

SH: It was fine, she had some trouble with her legos though.

HJ: she gets frustrated when shes tired.

SH: I figured. She's okay now

Hongjoong exhaled slowly.

During a short break, he pulled up the security feed without really thinking about it.

The living room was quiet. Sunlight across the floor. Legos scattered everywhere.

Seonie sat leaned against Seonghwa’s side, rabbit tucked under her arm. Seonghwa held a book open in one hand, the other resting lightly on the floor near her.

She looked peaceful.

Seonghwa looked careful. Still. Like he was holding something precious without daring to acknowledge it.

Hongjoong closed the app and returned to work with a strange sense of calm.

Back at the apartment, the afternoon passed gently. Seonie eventually curled up on the couch, falling asleep with her fingers tangled in Seonghwa’s cardigan.

He didn’t move.

When Hongjoong came home later, the apartment greeted him with quiet.

“She fell asleep,” Seonghwa whispered.

Hongjoong nodded. “Did she have a good day?”

“She did,” Seonghwa said. “She built a ship. It can go to space and the ocean.”

Hongjoong smiled faintly. “Of course it can.”

After a pause, he added, “Thank you. For today.”

Seonghwa shook his head slightly. “She did most of it.”

Neither corrected the other.

As Seonghwa prepared to leave, Seonie stirred.

“You’ll come back?” she murmured.

“Yes,” Seonghwa promised.

She nodded, already drifting again.

Walking out, Seonghwa realized something quietly terrifying.

This wasn’t just babysitting anymore.

It was routine. Responsibility. Trust.

And he was holding it carefully, one morning at a time.

Chapter Text

HAPPY NEW YEARS!!

The apartment buzzed with anticipation, the last streaks of afternoon sunlight fading to twilight. The air smelled like chocolate, vanilla, and sugar - cake, whipped cream, and a hint of cinnamon that Seonghwa inhaled deeply, letting it ground him. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed loosely, watching Seonie fuss over tiny paper crowns on everyone’s heads. Her concentration was fierce, but the occasional hum or bounce in her step betrayed how much fun she was having.

Hongjoong fussed with a string of tinsel near the balcony, pausing to glance down at Seonghwa, who was crouched low to help Seonie measure distances between the tiny crowns. “Careful,” he said quietly. “She’s capable, but the glitter will get everywhere.”

“She’s meticulous,” Seonghwa replied softly. “It’s… nice.”

Hongjoong didn’t respond immediately, only watched for a moment before shaking his head and returning to the tinsel. He had learned long ago not to interrupt small, important moments.

Yeosang leaned against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, smirking at Wooyoung, who was attempting to blow a party horn without making any sound. The effort was futile, but the energy he put into it was… Wooyoung.

“Do it right,” Yeosang muttered.

“I am doing it right!” Wooyoung said, cheeks puffed dramatically, eyes narrowed in concentration.

Seonghwa stifled a laugh, rolling a grape between his fingers. Seonie was seated beside him, rabbit tucked under one arm, the other hand picking through the bowl. “Twelve,” she said seriously, holding up all her fingers. “One for each month.”

“Do I have to eat them all at once?” Seonghwa asked, hiding a grin.

“No,” she said, shaking her head firmly. “You eat them quietly, under the table. Then your wishes come true.”

“Under the table?” Hwa repeated, his brow quirking.

Seonie nodded solemnly. “Yes. It’s tradition. No peeking. If someone sees, it doesn’t work.”

Hwa grinned mischievously. “Alright. You’re the boss.” He slid under the table, careful not to disturb the cake spread or the scattered plates. Seonie followed, still clutching her rabbit, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Ready?” she whispered.

“As I’ll ever be,” he said softly, popping the first grape into his mouth.

“One…” she whispered.

“Two…”

The grapes went one by one, slow, deliberate, careful, just as Seonie instructed. Shoulders brushed occasionally, their hands bumping as they reached for the next grape. They both laughed quietly at their tiny secret, the soft light of the living room glowing on their faces, flickering with reflections from the fireworks outside.

“Eight…” Seonie whispered. “Hurry, or the year will end without your wish.”

Hwa smirked. “I think it’s safe. My wish is… already pretty good.”

“Don’t tell me,” she whispered, eyes sharp and serious.

“I won’t,” he promised, popping another grape in his mouth.

By the twelfth grape, they were both giggling quietly, breath mingling, cheeks warm. Outside, the city erupted in fireworks, brilliant reds, blues, and golds painting the sky. The sound filtered through the glass, bouncing off the walls and into the warmth of the apartment.

From the balcony, Hongjoong leaned against the railing, hands tucked into his pockets. He watched the quiet giggles under the table, a soft, protective smile tugging at his lips. Seonghwa was careful and gentle, as if he was guarding something precious. And Seonie… she was happy. Relaxed. Safe. That was all he had ever wanted.

Yeosang nudged Wooyoung. “Do you see that?”

“What?” Wooyoung asked, puffing his cheeks.

“That little scene under the table.”

Wooyoung’s grin spread wider. “Oh. Ohhh. Cute. Very cute.”

San leaned against the balcony railing beside Mingi, arms folded. He didn’t usually care about these things, but even he had to allow a small smile at the warmth radiating from the living room. Mingi, however, was whispering to Yunho about every little detail—the precise arrangement of cake slices, the way Seonie had tucked her rabbit under her arm, and how Seonghwa had subtly leaned closer without disturbing her comfort.

“Yunho,” Mingi said, nudging him, “look. He’s… holding her space. The kid trusts him.”

Yunho smirked quietly. “It’s New Year’s. Trust is easy to see when it matters.”

The clock ticked closer to midnight. Seonie tugged Hwa’s sleeve. “Almost,” she whispered. “Ready?”

“Always,” Hwa replied.

The fireworks grew louder outside. The city seemed to hold its breath in anticipation. Hwa and Seonie slid under the table, careful to avoid knocking over the delicate cake plates. The grape ritual began.

“One…”

“Two…”

They continued in quiet concentration, a rhythm forming, a secret only they shared. Hwa found himself smiling as Seonie leaned a little closer each time, the soft brush of her shoulder warming him.

“Eight…” she whispered again. “Almost there.”

Hwa chuckled quietly. “I hope my wishes are worth it.”

“Shh!! Don’t break the magic,” she hissed back, though the corners of her mouth twitched.

By the twelfth grape, they had both finished. Giggling softly, they crawled out from under the table, brushing themselves off. Hwa offered a hand to help Seonie up, and she took it, fingers briefly lacing with his.

“Did it work?” she asked, eyes sparkling.

“I think so,” he replied, voice soft. “Already has.”

Hongjoong came over quietly, kneeling to ruffle Seonie’s hair. “Did you enjoy the grapes?” he asked gently.

“Mm-hmm. And I shared my wishes,” she said, smiling.

“And you?” he asked Hwa.

“I did too,” Seonghwa said honestly, locking eyes with him.

Hongjoong exhaled, a deep, warm sound. “Good. I hope all of them come true.”

The cake was cut and everyone helped themselves. Yeosang sat between Wooyoung and Hwa, teasing them gently. Mingi tried to get Yunho to join the silliness, but Yunho shook his head, smirking at their antics. San remained quiet, observing the joyful chaos, allowing himself a soft smile.

Seonie leaned against Hwa while he offered her a small bite of cake. Outside, fireworks continued, painting the night sky in brilliant hues.

“Happy New Year,” Hwa whispered, a hand brushing Seonie’s shoulder.

“Happy New Year,” she echoed softly, eyes sparkling.

Hongjoong watched quietly, arms wrapped lightly around her shoulders. The apartment hummed with warmth, laughter, and a quiet sense of belonging.

Even Wooyoung, seated beside Yeosang, leaned close to Hwa and whispered, “You’re really something, you know that?”

Hwa just smiled, keeping his eyes on Seonie.

And for the first time in a long time, the year ahead didn’t feel intimidating. It felt like promise, like home, and like maybe, just maybe, magic could be found in twelve little green grapes eaten under a table

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

Seonghwa woke before his alarm.

This, too, had become a habit.

He laid still for a moment, staring at the ceiling as pale morning light filtered in through the curtains. The apartment was quiet in the way only weekday mornings were..anticipatory, restrained. No television. No laughter yet. Just the hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of traffic beginning to thicken below.

He checked the time.

6:12 a.m.

Earlier than necessary. Earlier than comfortable. But his mind was already awake, already moving through a list of things that needed doing.

He exhaled slowly and pushed himself out of bed.

Padding down the hallway, Seonghwa paused outside Seonie’s room. The door was cracked open, just enough for him to see her curled beneath her blanket, stuffed rabbit tucked under her chin. Her hair was a mess of dark loose curls against the pillow. She slept deeply, mouth slightly open, one hand fisted into the fabric of her pajama top.

It was absolutely adorable. He smiled to himself.

It was a few weeks back, since Hongjoong offered a room to Seonghwa that he could use, as it was easier for him to take care of Seonie in the mornings before dropping her off to school  when Hongjoong couldn't send Seonie himself. Seonghwa didn't mind, he could just head straight to his school right after dropping Seonie off as it wasn't that far from her school. 

He had stayed over a few times already to drop off Seonie. However, it still felt a little awkward for him to stay there. He still wasn’t used to it yet.

He watched her for a moment longer than necessary.

There was something grounding about knowing she was there. Safe. Asleep. Exactly where she was supposed to be.

Seonghwa closed the door gently and headed to the kitchen.

Breakfast first.

He moved quietly, deliberately. Cabinet doors eased open and closed without sound. He set a pan on the stove, cracked eggs with practiced care, lined slices of toast neatly on a plate. He cut strawberries in half, then quarters, then paused and rearranged them so the colors were evenly distributed.

Only when everything was plated did he pour himself a glass of water and sit.

He hadn’t realized how much he’d slipped into routine until now.

Footsteps padded into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Seonghwa said softly, turning.

Seonie stood in the doorway, rubbing one eye with her fist, rabbit dangling from her other hand.

She squinted at the table. Her nose wrinkled.

“I don’t want cereal.”

Seonghwa blinked once. “I didn’t make cereal.”

She shuffled closer, peering suspiciously at the plate. Eggs. Toast. Fruit.

“…I don’t want that either.”

Ah..

He considered his options carefully. Negotiation had become something of an art.

“What do you want?” he asked.

She thought about it seriously. Too seriously for a seven-year-old.

“Something warm,” she decided. “But not eggs.”

Seonghwa nodded. “Okay.”

She watched him closely as he stood again, as if testing whether he would argue.

He didn’t.

He put the eggs and toast aside and pulled out a small pot. Milk. A bit of sugar. Oats. He stirred slowly, keeping the flame low.

“What are you making?” she asked.

“Oatmeal,” he said. “I’ll cut the bananas into stars.”

Her eyes lit up despite herself. “Stars?”

“Yes.”

She climbed onto the chair and sat properly this time, legs swinging. “Okay. But I want the blue spoon.”

Seonghwa reached into the drawer without looking and handed it to her.

She grinned, victorious.

By the time Hongjoong texted, Seonie was halfway through her bowl, humming quietly to herself.

HJ:
I won’t be able to pick her up today. Meetings ran over.

 Could you help pick her up?

 I’m sorry.

Seonghwa read it twice.

Then typed back.

SH:
It’s okay, I’ll get her

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Reappeared.

HJ:
Are you sure?

Seonghwa glanced at Seonie, now carefully arranging banana stars on her spoon.

SH:
Yes

There was a pause longer than usual.

HJ:
Thank you.

Seonghwa set his phone down.

He didn’t feel burdened.

If anything, the idea that Hongjoong trusted him with this. Trusting him enough to ask, and then accept him. It settled something quietly in his chest.

— — 

School felt louder than usual.

Seonghwa arrived early, as he always did, but the calm didn’t settle him the way it usually did. His attention kept slipping, drifting to the clock, to his phone, to the mental note of what time he’d need to leave.

Wooyoung noticed immediately.

“You’re thinking too hard,” he said, slumping into the chair beside him. “Your face does that thing.”

“What thing?” Seonghwa murmured.

“That thing where you look like you’re holding a fragile object in your brain.”

Seonghwa huffed quietly. “I’m fine.”

“Mm,” Wooyoung hummed, unconvinced.

Yeosang leaned forward from behind them. “Is it about Seonie?”

Seonghwa stiffened.

Wooyoung snapped his head around. “Wait, you know it too?”

Yeosang blinked. “Yes? You told me last week.”

“I did?” Wooyoung frowned. “Oh…right. That checks out.”

Seonghwa relaxed slightly. “I just need to leave on time today.”

Wooyoung tilted his head. “You always do.”

“Yes, but today I can’t stay late.”

That, apparently, was enough explanation.

Wooyoung studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. Then we’ll leave on time.”

San, seated a few rows down, glanced back.

Their eyes met briefly.

San didn’t smile. Didn’t speak. Just gave a small, acknowledging nod before turning back around.

For reasons Seonghwa couldn’t name, it felt… reassuring.

— —

Pickup was chaotic.

Children spilled out of the gates in every direction, voices overlapping, backpacks bouncing. Seonghwa stood just outside the fence, scanning faces until he spotted her.

“Seonghwa!”

She broke away from her group immediately, running toward him with reckless joy.

He crouched just in time to catch her.

“You came!,” she said breathlessly, arms wrapped tight around his neck.

“I said I would,” he replied, steadying her. “Did you have a good day?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “I learned a new word. And I drew a fish but it kinda looks like a potato.”

“That happens,” Seonghwa said solemnly.

She laughed, taking his hand without thinking.

On the walk home, she skipped along the curb, telling him everything at once. Who got in trouble. Who shared snacks. How her teacher pronounced her name wrong again.

He listened.

At the grocery store, she insisted on pushing the basket.

At home, she insisted on helping cook.

“You’re doing it wrong,” she told him seriously, when he cut the carrots slightly uneven.

“You’re welcome to try,” he replied, handing her the peeler.

She beamed.

— —

Hongjoong didn’t make it home until nearly ten.

The apartment was dim when he stepped inside. Quiet.

He kicked off his shoes and froze.

Seonghwa sat on the couch, Seonie asleep against his chest. Her rabbit was tucked beneath her chin. One of Seonghwa’s arms was wrapped around her back, the other holding a book he clearly hadn’t turned the page of in a while.

He looked… careful. Like he was afraid to breathe too deeply.

Hongjoong didn’t speak.

He just stood there, watching.

This wasn’t what he’d asked for.

But it was what he’d been given.

— —

Seonghwa didn’t realize Hongjoong was there until a shadow fell across the floor.

He looked up.

“Oh,” he whispered. “You’re home, welcome back.”

Hongjoong nodded. “I didn’t mean to wake her.”

“You didn’t,” Seonghwa said. “She’s been out for a while.”

They stood there for a moment, suspended.

“I can—” Seonghwa began.

“No,” Hongjoong said gently, softly. “Stay.”

And Seonghwa did.

— —

Seonghwa did not sleep deeply that night.

Not because he was restless, exactly. More because he had learned the shape of another person’s breathing, and his body had decided it needed to stay aware of it.

Seonie shifted once in her sleep, nose wrinkling, arms tightening instinctively around the fabric of his shirt. Seonghwa adjusted automatically, loosening his hold just enough so she could breathe easier, just enough so she would not wake.

He stared at the ceiling, counting the minutes between her exhales.

When she finally stirred properly, the sky outside was only just beginning to lighten.

“Seong..hwa...” she mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“I’m here,” he whispered.

Her eyes cracked open. She blinked at him for a moment, then smiled, small and satisfied, like she had found what she was looking for.

“Morning,” she said, eyes still half open.

“Good morning.”

She yawned, dramatically, then rested her forehead against his chest again. “Can we not do cereal again.”

Seonghwa let out a quiet laugh. “We can do something else.”

She nodded, already half drifting. “Okay.”

This, he thought distantly, was how routines were born.

— —

By Wednesday, the rhythm had set in.

Morning cooking. School drop offs. Lectures. Pickups. Homework at the dining table. Dinner together. Waiting for Hongjoong to come home, sometimes early, sometimes not at all. He’d been staying over more now, even bringing a luggage of clothes from his place, rather than just 3 days worth of clothes he’d packed into his bag.

Seonghwa learned quickly how to adjust.

He packed Seonie’s bag the night before. Checked weather forecasts. Left notes on the counter if he had to run out for groceries. He learned which foods she ate first and which she saved for last. Which shows calmed her down. Which songs she liked playing in the car.

He also learned how heavy it felt, sometimes, when Hongjoong did not come home before she fell asleep.

Those nights, Seonghwa tucked her in himself.

“Appa working?” she asked once, rubbing her eyes.

“Yes,” he said.

“Oh,” she murmured, then rolled onto her side. “Okay.”

She trusted that answer completely.

It scared him a little.

— —

School noticed the change before Seonghwa did.

“You’ve been smiling more,” Yeosang said one afternoon, as they packed up.

Seonghwa paused. “I have?”

Wooyoung leaned over his shoulder. “Barely. But yes.”

Seonghwa frowned, thinking. “I don’t feel different.”

“That’s the problem,” Wooyoung replied. “You don’t notice until it’s already permanent.”

San, seated nearby, glanced up at that.

He did not comment.

Instead, when Seonghwa left early again, San was the one who held the door open for him.

“Take care,” he said quietly.

Seonghwa bowed slightly in thanks. “You too.”

Their eyes met briefly.

There was something unspoken there. Recognition, maybe. Of responsibility. Of weight.

— —

By Thursday, Hongjoong was running on four hours of sleep and caffeine.

Yunho handed him another cup without comment.

“You should go home earlier tonight,” Yunho said gently.

Hongjoong didn’t answer right away.

He pulled up the camera feed instead.

The living room was a mess of color. Legos everywhere. Seonie lay on her stomach on the floor, feet kicking idly as Seonghwa helped her fit pieces together.

“You’re holding it wrong,” she said, serious.

“Oh,” Seonghwa replied immediately. “Show me.”

She scooted closer, leaning against his arm as she demonstrated. Her head brushed his shoulder without hesitation.

Hongjoong exhaled slowly.

He had not planned this.

He had planned childcare. Logistics. Safety.

He had not planned for warmth.

“You’re watching again,” Mingi said, peering over his shoulder.

Hongjoong startled slightly. “I didn’t realize I was.”

Mingi grinned. “Sure.”

Yunho said nothing. He simply made a note on his tablet and quietly rescheduled Hongjoong’s last meeting.

— —

Friday came with rain.

Seonie jumped in puddles on the way home, laughing so hard she nearly tripped.

“Careful,” Seonghwa warned, hand firm around hers.

“I won’t fall,” she said confidently.

She slipped immediately.

Seonghwa caught her without thinking, pulling her back upright before her knees even touched the ground.

She stared at him for a second, wide eyed.

Then she laughed harder.

“You’re fast!” she said, impressed.

“You’re reckless,” he replied, fond despite himself.

At home, she refused to do homework.

“I did enough today,” she announced, arms crossed.

Seonghwa knelt in front of her. “Just one more page.”

“No.”

“One problem.”

“No.”

“One letter.”

She hesitated.

He smiled. “Please?”

She sighed dramatically. “Fine. One.”

They compromised. Again.

— —

That night, Hongjoong came home earlier than usual.

He found Seonghwa in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back loosely. He looked pretty, he thought to himself. Seonie sat at the table, coloring.

“You didn’t have to cook,” Hongjoong said.

“I wanted to,” Seonghwa replied.

They stood there for a moment, unsure.

“Thank you,” Hongjoong said finally.

“For everything.”

Seonghwa nodded. “She’s easy to care for.”

Hongjoong smiled faintly. “She is. Most of the time.”

Seonie looked up. “I’m right here.”

They both laughed.

— — 

Saturday arrived quietly.

No alarms. No rushing.

Seonie climbed into Seonghwa’s bed before sunrise.

“You can sleep more,” he murmured.

“I know,” she said, curling closer. “I just wanted to sleep with you”

He did not move. They slept a little longer, Seonie curled up against him.

Later, Wooyoung texted.

WY:
Coffee. You. Me. Today.

SH:
I can’t go out long

WY:
Bring the child 😁

Seonghwa stared at the screen.

Then typed.

SH:
She doesn’t like noisy places.

WY:
I can be quiet ~ 😜

Seonghwa smiled.

— — 

At the café, Wooyoung was not quiet.

But Seonie liked him anyway.

“He’s loud,” she whispered to Seonghwa.

“I know,” Seonghwa whispered back.

Wooyoung gasped. “I heard that.”

She giggled.

San arrived later, nodding politely when introduced. He knelt slightly to Seonie’s level.

“Hello,” he said.

She studied him carefully. Then nodded once. “You’re okay.”

San smiled, slow and genuine.

Seonghwa watched the exchange with something like wonder.

— —

That night, after Seonie was asleep, Hongjoong found Seonghwa on the balcony.

“You don’t have to stay this late during the weekends,” Hongjoong said.

“I don’t mind,” Seonghwa replied. Besides he had a room he could crash in if it was too late to catch the last transport home.

They stood side by side, city lights stretching endlessly below.

“You’re doing more than I asked,” Hongjoong said quietly.

Seonghwa did not deny it.

“I don’t know how to thank you properly,” Hongjoong continued.

Seonghwa glanced at him. “You already trust me. That’s enough,”

Hongjoong looked at him then. Really looked.

And for the first time, the silence between them felt like something fragile.

— —

Inside, Seonie slept peacefully.

The week had taken shape.

And none of them were ready to admit how much they were already afraid of losing it.

— —

Sunday mornings were softer.

No alarms. No rush. Just the slow awareness of light filtering through curtains and the quiet hum of the city waking up somewhere far below.

Seonghwa woke first.

He did not move right away.

Seonie had migrated sometime during the night, her legs tangled with his, rabbit pressed against her chest, one hand fisted loosely in the fabric of his sleeve. Her breathing was even. Warm. Real.

He stared at the ceiling and let himself think, just for a moment, that this could be normal.

That thought scared him enough to finally shift.

Seonie groaned softly, face scrunching. “Don’t go.”

“I’m not,” he whispered. “Just moving..”

She relaxed instantly, rolling closer until her forehead rested against his shoulder.

“..m’kay,” she murmured, already drifting again.

Seonghwa lay there longer than he should have.

— —

Breakfast happened late.

Seonie refused cereal again, wrinkling her nose like it had personally offended her.

“I want the eggs you made last time,” she said, climbing onto a chair and swinging her legs.

Seonghwa tied his hair back, sleeves already rolled. “The soft ones or the crispy ones.”

She considered. “Both.”

He smiled. “Ambitious.”

She grinned back, unapologetic.

Hongjoong watched from the doorway, coffee cooling forgotten in his hand.

He had meant to use Sundays to catch up on work. Emails. Reports. Planning.

Instead, he stood there and watched Seonghwa crack eggs one handed like he had done it a hundred times before. Watched Seonie lean over the counter, chin in her hands, narrating every step like it was a cooking show.

“Careful,” Seonghwa said gently. “It’s hot.”

“I know,” she replied, immediately leaning closer anyway.

Hongjoong cleared his throat without thinking.

Both of them looked up.

“Morning,” Seonghwa said.

“Morning,” Hongjoong replied, voice a little rough.

Seonie pointed her fork at him. “You’re late.”

“I know,” Hongjoong said. “I’m sorry, dear.”

She accepted that easily. “Okay.”

That was worse than anger.

— —

Later, when Seonie was occupied with coloring and cartoons, Hongjoong spoke quietly.

“You don’t have classes today?”

“No,” Seonghwa said. “I usually use Sundays to prep for the week.”

Hongjoong nodded. “You don’t have to stay.”

Seonghwa looked at Seonie, legs tucked under her, humming to herself.

“I want to,” he said.

Hongjoong did not answer right away.

“You know,” he said eventually, “I won’t always be able to make it home on time. There will be days I can’t pick her up. Weeks where I travel.”

“I know,” Seonghwa replied.

“This isn’t temporary,” Hongjoong continued. “Not for me.”

Seonghwa met his gaze.

“Then it won’t be for me either.”

The words settled between them.

Heavy. Honest.

Hongjoong exhaled slowly. “I don’t want you to give up your life..because of this.”

Seonghwa shook his head. “I’m not.”

He hesitated. “I’m just… rearranging it.”

— —

Monday came too fast.

Seonghwa packed lunches before dawn. Left notes. Checked bags twice.

At the school gate, Seonie hugged him tighter than usual.

“You’ll come back?” she said, not asking.

“Yes,” he said. “After class.”

She nodded, then hesitated. “Promise?”

His chest tightened.

“I promise.”

She let go.

He watched her walk inside before turning away.

— —

At university, the week pressed down harder.

Assignments piled. Deadlines crept closer. Professors talked too fast. San watched him more often than before.

“You’re tired,” San said once, quietly, as they walked out together.

“I’m fine,” Seonghwa replied automatically.

San did not argue. “If you need help, you can always ask,”

Seonghwa nodded. “Thank you.”

Wooyoung noticed too.

“You’re spacing out,” he said, poking Seonghwa’s arm. “That’s my thing.”

“I’m just busy,” Seonghwa replied.

“With what?” Wooyoung asked, already knowing.

Seonghwa smiled faintly. “Life.”

Wooyoung softened. “You don’t have to carry everything alone.”

Seonghwa did not respond.

— —

That evening, Hongjoong got stuck at the office.

He sent the message before Seonghwa could ask.

HJ:
I’m sorry. Meeting ran long.

 Can you put her to bed?

SH:
Of course

A pause.

HJ:
Thank you.

Seonghwa read that one twice.

At home, Seonie dragged her feet through bath time.

“You’re quieter today,” Seonghwa said gently.

“I don’t like Mondays,” she replied.

“Me neither.”

She splashed water thoughtfully. “Do you get tired of me?”

Seonghwa froze.

“No,” he said immediately. “Never.”

She watched his face carefully. Then nodded, satisfied.

“Okay.”

That night, she fell asleep holding his hand.

He did not pull away.

— —

Hongjoong came home after midnight.

The apartment was dark. Quiet.

He found Seonghwa asleep on the couch, textbook open on his chest, one arm draped protectively around Seonie where she had migrated again.

Hongjoong stood there for a long time.

This was not what he had planned.

This was more.

He picked up a blanket and draped it over them carefully.

Seonghwa stirred, eyes fluttering open.

“Oh..Sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Hongjoong shook his head. “Don’t apologize.”

Their eyes met in the dim light.

Something unspoken passed between them.

Trust. Gratitude. Fear.

Hongjoong turned away first.

— —

Later, alone in his room, Seonghwa stared at the ceiling again.

The week was taking shape.

Not just a schedule. Not just responsibility.

A life that was slowly wrapping itself around his own.

And for the first time, the question was not whether he could handle it.

It was whether he would be able to walk away when the time came.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

Seonghwa stopped noticing when his days started bleeding into each other.

Not all at once. It happened quietly. Small overlaps. A morning that felt like an afternoon. A night that ended too close to the next sunrise. He woke up tired and went to bed the same way, the space in between filled with responsibilities that did not belong to one place anymore.

Weekdays were school but most mornings were spent with Seonie.
Weekends were just full of Seonie.
Somewhere in between, there was him.

He told himself it was temporary. That once he adjusted, once he found the rhythm, it would feel easier. He had always been good at routines. Good at making things work, even when they were not comfortable.

But routines only worked when they gave something back.

On Mondays, he arrived early to campus, like always. The classroom still empty. Chairs tucked in. The whiteboard clean. He sat in his usual seat and lined up his pens with careful precision. Blue. Black. Mechanical pencil. Highlighter. He adjusted them until they sat evenly, then rested his hands on the desk and let himself breathe.

His phone buzzed.

HJ:
Did she tell you about the rabbit sticker incident?

Seonghwa smiled before he could stop himself.

SH:
She did.

She said it was an accident but her tone suggested otherwise.

The reply came quickly.

HJ:
She’s innocent. Mostly.

Seonghwa huffed quietly, drawing a few glances from the students beginning to trickle in. He flipped his phone face down, but the warmth stayed. It lingered in his chest longer than it probably should have.

Wooyoung arrived moments later, dropping into the seat beside him with his usual lack of regard for personal space.

“You look tired,” Wooyoung said immediately.

Seonghwa blinked. “Do I?”

“Yes,” Wooyoung replied. “And I say that as someone who thrives on chaos. You look like you’ve been responsible too much.”

“That’s not a real thing.”

“It is,” Wooyoung said seriously. “It’s when your soul hasn’t had junk food.”

Yeosang slid into the seat behind them, setting his bag down neatly. “He’s right,” he added. “You’ve been spacing out lately.”

“I’m fine,” Seonghwa said, automatically.

Wooyoung eyed him. “You said that last time too. Right before you forgot your wallet at home and tried to pay for coffee with your student ID.”

Seonghwa winced. “That was one time.”

“It was yesterday.”

The professor entered before he could respond, and the conversation dissolved into rustling notebooks and opening laptops. Seonghwa focused on the lecture, took notes carefully, wrote neatly. But every so often, his thoughts drifted. To small hands tugging at his sleeve. To Legos scattered across a living room floor. To the weight of a head resting against his arm.

He shook himself lightly and wrote faster.

Focus. This is just school.

But even as the words filled the page, his body felt slower than usual. Heavy in a way that was not quite exhaustion, but close. His shoulders ached faintly. His stomach growled, then quieted again when he ignored it.

He would eat later. There was always later.

By midweek, the apartment had started to feel familiar in a way that surprised him.

The security code no longer made his pulse spike. He slipped off his shoes by instinct, lined them neatly by the door. Seonie greeted him with growing enthusiasm now, sometimes running, sometimes stopping short halfway like she was checking herself.

“You’re early,” she said one afternoon, peering up at him.

“I had no class after lunch,” Seonghwa replied, crouching to her level. “Is that okay?”

She considered this. Then nodded decisively. “Yes.”

Hongjoong watched from the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. “You don’t have to stay longer if you’re busy,” he said.

Seonghwa shook his head immediately. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

And he meant it. He did. Sitting on the floor with Seonie, building elaborate Lego structures that defied physics and logic. Helping with homework. Cooking simple meals together. These moments felt steady. Grounding.

But as the week went on, the lines blurred further.

“Can you stay a little later tonight?” Hongjoong asked one evening, already halfway into his coat. “Just until I get back from the meeting.”

Seonghwa checked the time. Then his phone. Then nodded. “Of course.”

“Thank you,” Hongjoong said, relief softening his voice.

Seonghwa smiled. “It’s no problem.”

He stayed. Helped Seonie with her bedtime routine. Read an extra chapter of her favorite book because she asked. He cleaned the kitchen without thinking about it, wiped down counters, and stacked dishes neatly to dry.

By the time Hongjoong returned, Seonghwa was sitting on the couch, laptop open, staring blankly at an unfinished assignment.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Hongjoong said quietly, looking around.

“It’s fine,” Seonghwa said again.

The word was starting to feel thin.

Saturday came faster than expected.

Full day this time. Hongjoong had warned him earlier in the week. Overseas call. Time difference. Might be late.

Seonghwa arrived early, like he always did. He cooked breakfast when Seonie pushed away her cereal with a dramatic frown.

“I don’t want this,” she said.

“Okay,” Seonghwa replied calmly. “What do you want instead?”

She brightened. “Eggs…and toast”

He laughed softly. “Scrambled or fried?”

“Scrambled,” she said. “With cheese.”

They cooked together. She stood on a stool beside him, stirring carefully under his watchful eye. It felt domestic in a way that made his chest ache faintly.

Later, while she colored at the table, Seonghwa checked his phone.

A notification from school.

Assignment due tonight.

His stomach dropped.

He had forgotten.

Just for a moment, panic flickered. Then he pushed it aside. He would do it later. After she napped. After dinner. There was always later.

The day passed gently. Too gently. By the time evening came, his eyes burned faintly from strain. His head throbbed dully behind his temples. He drank water, then forgot about it again.

When Hongjoong returned that night, he looked tired. More than usual.

“You should go home,” Hongjoong said after thanking him. “You’ve been here all day.”

“I’m okay,” Seonghwa said, standing a little too quickly. The room tilted briefly, then steadied.

Hongjoong noticed. His gaze sharpened. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Seonghwa replied, forcing a smile.

Hongjoong hesitated, then nodded. “Text me when you get home.”

“I will.”

He did. He always did.

But as he lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, assignment unfinished and unread messages piling up, a strange thought settled in his chest.

He loved being there.

He loved being needed.

But love did not always mean balance.

And somewhere, quietly, something was beginning to strain.

— —

Seonghwa’s phone buzzed again. He was halfway through reorganizing his notebooks, notes half-written and pens scattered on the desk. The screen lit up with a name that made his chest tighten without thought.

Caller ID:

School Office

He frowned and answered immediately. “Hello?”

A calm but concerned voice answered. “Park Seonghwa? This is Ms. Jang from Seonie’s class. We… we have a situation.”

Seonghwa’s stomach dropped. “Situation?”

“She… she ate something she shouldn’t have,” the voice continued, careful, gentle. “She’s unwell. We think she wants to go home…she said she wanted someone familiar with her and gave us your number. Can you come pick her up?”

Familiar. His chest clenched in a way he didn’t quite understand. “Of course,” he said automatically.

The office gave him the details quickly. What she had for lunch, what time the school nurse had called, how her stomachache had escalated. Every word was practical, efficient, but his mind was elsewhere.

He grabbed his bag and left almost instantly, not saying goodbye to Wooyoung and Yeosang. Each step toward the door felt heavier than it should have. What if she…what if it’s bad?

By the time he arrived at the school, Seonie was curled up in a small cot in the nurse’s office, a blanket pulled around her, her face pale. But her eyes still lit up when she saw him.

“Hwa..” she whispered, her small hand reaching out.

Seonghwa knelt beside her immediately. “I’m here,” he said softly. “Everything’s okay.”

She leaned into him instinctively, wrapping her arms around his neck. He felt the weight of her trust like gravity, grounding him even as panic threatened to flare.

The nurse stepped back. “She seems very attached. I just wanted to make sure someone familiar could come,” she said.

Seonghwa nodded. “Thank you. We’ll take it from here.”

He scooped her up carefully, careful not to jostle her too much. She rested her head against his shoulder, quiet now, trusting. On the way to the car, she whispered something that made him freeze slightly.

“Mommy’s number… wrong… Hwa’s number,” she said, small but firm.

He blinked. “You… you know my number?”

Seonie nodded, eyes heavy with sleep and discomfort. “I always remember.”

His heart squeezed. How had she known? Why had she known? The realization struck him harder than he expected: she chose him. Not out of obligation, not out of chance. Out of trust.

The ride home was silent except for her soft breathing and the faint hum of the city. Seonghwa’s mind raced with everything he needed to do: medicine, comfort, monitoring, feeding. But mostly, he just stayed close, letting her lean against him, letting her trust him fully.

When they arrived, he gently laid her down on the couch with blankets and pillows. “Stay here,” he said softly. “I’ll be right back with some water and tea.”

She nodded, eyes half-lidded. “Don’t leave..” she murmured.

“I won’t,” he promised.

The rest of the day passed in small motions, slow and careful. He cooked something simple, rice porridge with a hint of sweetness to coax her appetite. She nibbled small spoonfuls, leaning against him. Each bite made him feel more responsible than he had ever imagined being.

Hongjoong watched quietly from the kitchen doorway, coffee in hand. He had rushed home after finding out through a text from the School that Seonghwa had picked Seonie up early as she wasn’t feeling well. Seonghwa did call him too to inform him he was on the way back to the apartment with Seonie. He had been on calls, checking in here and there, but watching Seonghwa feeding Seonie, Seonghwa tending to her, gentle and patient. Something settled uncomfortably in his chest.

He noticed the small movements. The way Seonghwa brushed loose hair behind his ear absentmindedly. The way his eyes softened when he looked at Seonie. How carefully he adjusted her blanket, made sure she sipped her tea.

A tightness bloomed in Hongjoong’s chest. Was this what it felt like, noticing someone constantly, wondering when the moments they weren’t aware were the ones you remembered most?

He looked away, forcing himself to focus on the tablet in his hand. But the image of Seonghwa curled slightly over her, protective and tender, would not leave his mind.

Even when she drifted to sleep, still against him on the couch, his gaze lingered. And Hongjoong, leaning against the doorway, admitted quietly to himself, though he didn’t want to,  that he was noticing more than he had intended. More than he had allowed himself to notice.

He sipped his coffee, setting the mug down with a soft clink. He didn’t have answers yet. He didn’t even know what the questions were. But something about Seonghwa made his pulse quicken, small details magnified in his mind, weighty and undeniable.

He had no name for it yet. But he would learn it soon enough.

— —

Seonie slept heavily, curled under the soft blankets on the couch. Seonghwa sat close by, his knees bent, one hand resting lightly on the blanket over her. The faint scent of medicine and the warm, quiet hum of the apartment filled the space. Every time her small chest rose and fell, he exhaled quietly, almost in relief.

He glanced down at the porridge still cooling in the bowl on the coffee table. She hadn’t touched it much, just a few small spoonfuls. He had tried to coax her gently, not wanting to frighten her appetite, and she had only responded with soft whimpers.

Seonghwa let the silence stretch, watching her, thinking about the odd turns his life had taken. 1 month ago, he had been worrying about classes and rent. Now, he was here, fully aware of the weight of another person’s care, a little girl’s trust, entirely on him.

A soft thump at the door startled him. Hongjoong stepped in, eyes flicking to the couch immediately. He paused, noticing the quiet tableau, the tiny figure asleep, and the careful posture Seonghwa had maintained for hours.

“She’s stable?” Hongjoong asked quietly.

Seonghwa nodded, still not wanting to disturb her. “She’s sleeping now. I stayed with her, made sure she was comfortable.”

Hongjoong approached slowly, setting his tablet down on the coffee table. He watched for a moment, the image of Seonghwa curled slightly around Seonie imprinting itself in his mind.

“You… handled this well,” Hongjoong said finally, voice even but carrying an undercurrent he couldn’t hide. “I was expecting… more chaos.”

Seonghwa glanced up, faintly startled, but kept his tone casual. “She’s usually more resilient. Just… not today.”

Hongjoong studied him, something tight in his chest. Every motion Seonghwa made was precise, careful, patient. Even the simple act of brushing a strand of hair back from Seonie’s face was deliberate, gentle, filled with unspoken reassurance.

“Do you need anything? Hungry? I can whip up something real quick,” Seonghwa asked softly, glancing up at Hongjoong.

“I’m… fine,” Hongjoong replied, and he was. For now. Yet he found his eyes returning, again and again, to Seonghwa’s quiet vigilance, the way his shoulders tensed slightly whenever Seonie shifted.

Seonie stirred lightly, murmuring in her sleep. She turned toward Seonghwa, tiny hand brushing his arm as though seeking confirmation. He leaned slightly closer, resting his hand gently over hers.

“You’re okay,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”

Her small fingers curled around his. A soft, sleepy sigh left her lips.

Hongjoong’s heart skipped.

He turned slightly, trying not to intrude, but he could not tear his gaze away. The way Seonghwa’s silver hair fell across his forehead as he looked down at her, the small curve of his lips as he murmured encouragement, the ease with which a stranger had become so natural and necessary to his daughter, it was unsettling in the way that made him acutely aware of his own chest.

He left them for a moment, stepping into the kitchen, trying to distract himself. Coffee cup in hand, he leaned against the counter, watching the security feed again. Seonie curled against Seonghwa like a tiny, unspoken declaration of trust.

Hongjoong had always thought of himself as observant, precise, in control. Yet now, as he watched, he felt something unfamiliar twisting in his chest, something that wasn’t annoyance, or pride, or worry. Something that made his throat tighten and his pulse pick up with each small glance Seonghwa threw her way.

It was irrational. It didn’t make sense. He had no place for it. And yet, he could not look away.

— —

At school, Seonghwa’s mind refused to settle. Even in class, he found himself tracing his fingers over the edge of his notebook, thinking about Seonie’s small face, her feverish brow earlier, her tiny hand gripping his arm. He shifted in his seat repeatedly, trying not to let his concern show, but Wooyoung noticed immediately.

“You’re… off,” Wooyoung whispered during a break. “Something’s up. You’ve got that look again.”

Seonghwa didn’t respond at first, staring at the window absentmindedly. “It’s nothing,” he said finally, voice low.

Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed. “Not nothing. You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

Seonghwa hesitated. “She… isn’t well. That’s all.”

“Right,” Wooyoung said knowingly. “You worry about her like you’re her Mom. Well… you sort of kinda at this point.”

Seonghwa’s jaw tightened slightly, and he exhaled softly. “I just… I want her to be okay.”

Yeosang, nearby, noticed the quiet tension. “It’s obvious you care,” he said lightly, nudging Seonghwa. “But you also need to breathe.”

Seonghwa gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. “I’m fine.”

— —

Back at the apartment, Seonie woke again, small whimpers escaping her lips. Seonghwa was immediately at her side, spooning small bites of porridge into her mouth, checking her temperature. She leaned into him instinctively.

“Seonghwa…” she whispered weakly.

“I’m right here,” he murmured. “Just eat a little, okay?”

She nodded, tiny hands gripping his shirt. He felt every ounce of her trust and vulnerability, and it rooted him to the spot.

Hongjoong, watching from the doorway again, couldn’t help the tight knot in his chest. Every small gesture, Seonghwa’s patient way of encouraging her to eat, the way he adjusted her blanket, the soft hum he let escape when she shifted, it was undeniable. The man was calm, steady, gentle. And somehow, every motion only drew Hongjoong in further.

Was this… jealousy? Was it worry? Or something else entirely?

He could not place it. But he did know one thing; the sight of Seonghwa leaning over Seonie, careful and loving in ways Hongjoong himself rarely allowed, made his chest ache in a way that was completely unfamiliar.

And he noticed it again and again.

The slight twitch when Seonghwa brushed his silver hair back from his face. The way his eyes softened when he looked at Seonie. The careful, measured gestures. The quiet patience.

It was unsettling. Dangerous, even.

Hongjoong turned away, running a hand over his face. He didn’t know what this was. He didn’t even know if he was ready to admit it.

But he knew he couldn’t stop noticing.

— —

By evening, Seonie had recovered enough to sit up and sip juice. Seonghwa remained close, monitoring her. He brought her blanket up again, brushing stray hair from her forehead.

“You did really well today,” he whispered.

“Mm,” she said, a tiny smile breaking through her pale exhaustion. “Hwa… you stayed.”

“Of course,” he said. “I promised.”

She nodded and leaned her head against his shoulder, still small and tired. Her trust, implicit and absolute, wrapped around him. And Seonghwa, looking down at her, realized he didn’t want to let it go.

Hongjoong, watching from a distance, felt something stir that he couldn’t define. Something quietly terrifying and utterly compelling.

And for the first time in a long while, he wondered if he was ready to feel it.

— —

The morning air was crisp, the city still half-asleep as Seonghwa navigated his way to campus. Backpack slung loosely over one shoulder, pens lined in neat rows in his notebook, he kept a quiet rhythm to his steps, trying to mentally shift from the soft, warm chaos of the apartment to the orderly, bustling life of school.

He was tired, that much was true. Sitting with Seonie all evening, monitoring her after she’d gotten sick, had left him worn but…satisfied in a way he didn’t quite expect. The soft warmth of her trust, her tiny hand curling around his arm when she needed comfort, had settled somewhere deep in his chest, making even the stiff morning breeze feel gentler.

Wooyoung was already at their usual spot, feet kicked up slightly on the desk, scanning the classroom as if it held secrets he alone could uncover.

“You’re…early,” Wooyoung said, tilting his head as Seonghwa settled beside him. “Did something happen?”

Seonghwa adjusted his bag calmly. “Seonie still isn’t feeling well. I stayed with her last night.”

Wooyoung’s eyes went wide. “Shes still sick? And you… stayed? All night?”

Seonghwa’s lips twitched faintly. “She needed me.”

Yeosang, seated behind them, peeked over his notebook. “That’s… a lot, even for you,” he commented quietly.

Seonghwa shrugged lightly, tucking a stray strand of silver hair behind his ear. “It’s okay. She’s better now.”

Wooyoung leaned closer, whispering, “You’ve gone full parent mode. I mean… wow. That’s actually impressive.”

Seonghwa didn’t respond, already flipping open his notebook, focusing on aligning the pens along the edge. Quietly, methodically, the small ritual grounding him before the flood of students and noise arrived.

The lecture hall began to fill, the usual hum of whispers and laughter creeping in. San and Mingi slipped in quietly, drawing a few curious glances from the class. San kept his usual calm demeanor, seated several rows away, observing silently, while Mingi plopped down with a grin, tossing a notebook onto the desk.

Wooyoung nudged Seonghwa. “Look, there’s the dynamic duo. You’re going to watch them interact, aren’t you?”

Seonghwa kept his attention forward but allowed a small smile. “I guess we’ll see.”

— —

By mid-morning, the incident from the previous day had faded in urgency, but not in Seonghwa’s mind. Every time his phone buzzed, he instinctively reached for it, half-expecting a message from Hongjoong or Seonie, making sure they were alright.

San leaned over from the row in front, voice low. “You’re… distracted, hyung.”

Seonghwa’s head tilted, silver hair falling lightly over his eyes. “I’m fine.”

San’s gaze lingered, sharp but not hostile. “You’re not,” he said flatly. “Something’s on your mind.”

Seonghwa blinked, unsure how to respond. No one at school knew about Seonie being sick, other than Wooyoung and Yeosang, about the late-night care, the small triumphs of helping her rest or coaxing her to eat. He wanted to keep it that way, to protect her privacy. Yet the quiet curiosity in San’s voice made him hesitate.

Mingi, oblivious as ever, leaned forward with a grin. “You’re totally reading this guy wrong,” he said, nodding at San. “He’s not judging you. I mean…maybe he’s a little intimidating, but he’s harmless. Mostly.”

Wooyoung groaned. “I hate that you’re right. But still… he’s scary in a calm way. That’s unfair.”

Seonghwa allowed himself a faint, private smile. Somehow, despite the tension of keeping Seonie safe, the exhaustion of school, and the quiet apprehension of navigating new classmates, the day felt lighter.

— —

By lunchtime, the five of them gathered in their usual corner. Wooyoung insisted on showing Mingi the latest memes, while Yeosang gently reminded them to keep voices down. San remained seated slightly apart, calm, observing the room with the quiet precision of someone noting everything without judgment.

Seonghwa took a small sip of water, glancing at his phone again. A message from Hongjoong appeared.

HJ:

She’s laughing now. 

Said she wants grapes later.

Seonghwa’s lips curved faintly. Typing quickly, he replied

SH:
I’ll bring some when I come by.

The response came almost immediately:

HJ:
Good. 

She misses you.

Seonghwa paused, chest warming. He typed nothing back.

Wooyoung noticed the faint glow in his eyes. “Ooooh,” he murmured, nudging Seonghwa. “Someone’s got someone on their mind.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched. “Maybe I do.”

Yeosang, ever observant, raised an eyebrow. “That’s a lot for someone who’s usually so… meticulous about everything else.”

— —

The afternoon passed in a blur of classes, notes, and quiet glances at his phone. The moment school ended, Seonghwa’s heart leapt as he slipped out, heading straight toward Hongjoong’s apartment. The weekend babysitting schedule was about to begin, and this time, he felt less like a visitor and more like… a part of her world.

Hongjoong, in his home office, glanced at the security feeds again. Seonie was building something new with her Legos, tiny hands moving pieces carefully. Seonghwa crouched beside her, murmuring instructions softly, helping her fit the pieces. Hongjoong’s chest twisted.

The small gestures, the patience, the gentle hum he let slip when Seonie asked a question, all of it was impossible to ignore. Hongjoong leaned back, exhaling slowly, suddenly aware of the weight in his chest.

Was this… falling in love?

He shook his head. He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure. But every small motion Seonghwa made, every careful, quiet attention he paid to Seonie, made him want to reach through the screen and claim some tiny piece of that world for himself.

— —

In the living room, Seonie laughed, a soft, bright sound that filled the room. Seonghwa’s eyes curved in response, every detail of her happiness pulling him closer.

“Careful,” he murmured, helping her connect a small piece.

“I’m being careful!” she protested, cheeks flushed.

“You’re doing great,” he said, voice warm.

Her smile widened, and she leaned just slightly into him, shoulders brushing.

Seonghwa felt his chest tighten, not uncomfortable, but undeniable. Each small movement, each shared laugh, each fleeting glance that held more than it should… it was making him feel something bigger than responsibility, bigger than care.

And he realized, softly, that he didn’t mind feeling it.

— —

Later, after Seonie had settled for a small nap, Seonghwa sat quietly, reading nearby. The soft murmur of the city outside, the quiet warmth of the apartment, and the simple presence of trust and comfort enveloped him. Hongjoong leaned against the door frame.

“She asked if you’re staying for dinner.” he asked, arms crossed. The eyebags under his eyes obvious from the lack of sleep.

Seonghwa looked up at him from where he was sitting.

“I can stay,” he said, voice gentle as to not wake up Seonie.

“Good. She’ll be excited” Hongjoong smiled.

Hongjoong’s gaze lingered on Seonghwa one last time before he turned away, heart thudding with something unplaceable. Watching Seonghwa move with ease, with patience, with a quiet care that was entirely his own…it was unnerving.

But he couldn’t stop noticing. And he didn’t want to.

— —

As night fell, the apartment glowed with soft lamplight. Seonie had resumed building, humming softly, rabbit tucked under her arm. Seonghwa crouched beside her, legs folded beneath him, helping carefully. The quiet focus in the apartment made everything else fade.

And Hongjoong, in his office, leaned back again, thinking with a mixture of dread and awe

“I think I’m falling…” he muttered to himself.

He didn't try to fight it.

— —

By the time evening settled in, the apartment felt different.

Not louder. Not messier. Just… lived in.

Seonghwa stood at the kitchen counter, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms, cutting strawberries into careful halves. He moved slowly, deliberately, the way he always did when he wanted to get something right. A small pot simmered gently on the stove. Soup, simple and light, something easy on Seonie’s stomach. He’d asked Hongjoong earlier, double-checked twice, just to be sure.

Behind him, Seonie sat cross legged on the floor, rabbit tucked beneath her chin, Lego pieces spread around her like a small universe only she understood.

She hummed softly. Tuneless, content.

“You’re very quiet,” Seonghwa said without turning around.

“I’m thinking,” she replied seriously.

He smiled to himself. “About what?”

“My ship,” she said. “It needs a kitchen.”

“A kitchen?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Because people get hungry.”

“That’s very thoughtful,” Seonghwa said. “What kind of food does it make?”

She considered this. “Soup. And strawberries.”

Seonghwa laughed quietly. “That sounds familiar.”

She beamed.

Dinner was simple. Seonie ate slowly but steadily, sitting at the table with her feet swinging slightly above the floor. Seonghwa stayed close, watching without hovering, offering water when she paused, gently reminding her to take her time.

“You’re not rushing me,” she said suddenly.

Seonghwa blinked. “I’m not?”

“No,” she said. “Some people rush.”

He felt something tighten in his chest. “I don’t want to rush you.”

She nodded, satisfied, and went back to eating.

When Hongjoong came out from his room later, the lights were warm and low. The apartment smelled faintly of soup and fruit. He paused just inside the hallway, listening.

Seonie’s laughter drifted in from the living room.

He followed the sound.

Seonghwa sat on the floor, legs folded neatly, the Lego ship between them. Seonie leaned against his side, fully at ease, one arm draped over his knee as if it had always belonged there. He was explaining something quietly, voice soft and patient.

Hongjoong didn’t interrupt.

He just stood there for a moment, watching.

The way Seonghwa angled his body slightly toward her. The way his hand hovered, protective but not restrictive. The way his silver hair slipped forward when he laughed, and how he tucked it back behind his ear without thinking. How pretty, he thought.

Something deep and unfamiliar stirred in Hongjoong’s chest.

Seonghwa noticed him first.

“Oh,” he said softly. “You’re done with work? There’s soup I made for dinner. hungry?”

Seonie twisted around immediately. “Appa!”

She scrambled to her feet and ran over. Hongjoong caught her easily, lifting her into his arms, pressing a kiss to her hair.

“How’s my girl?” he asked.

“Better!” she declared. “Seonghwa made soup. And strawberries. And the ship has a kitchen.”

Hongjoong smiled. “I see.”

His eyes flicked briefly to Seonghwa. “Thank you.”

Seonghwa nodded. “Of course.”

They moved through the rest of the night quietly. Homework. A short cartoon episode. Pajamas. Seonghwa read while Seonie brushed her teeth, correcting her gently when she rushed. She protested, of course, but listened anyway.

When it was finally time for bed, Seonie hesitated.

“Can he stay until I sleep?” she asked Hongjoong, glancing at Seonghwa.

Hongjoong’s answer was immediate. “Yes.”

Seonghwa sat beside the bed, back straight, hands folded loosely in his lap. Seonie curled onto her side, rabbit tucked close.

“You’re coming back tomorrow?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“And the day after?”

“Yes.”

She smiled, eyes already drifting shut. “Okay.”

It didn’t take long.

Seonghwa stayed still even after her breathing evened out, watching her chest rise and fall, the room filled with the quiet hum of the city outside.

When he finally stood and stepped out into the hallway, Hongjoong was waiting.

They stood there for a moment. No rush. No pressure.

“You didn’t have to stay this late,” Hongjoong said.

“I wanted to,” Seonghwa replied honestly.

Hongjoong nodded. “She… really trusts you.”

Seonghwa looked down. “I’m glad, she does..”

There was something unspoken between them. Something fragile. New.

Hongjoong cleared his throat. “You can stay over if you want. You have your room. Tomorrow’s the weekend.”

Seonghwa hesitated, just for a second.

Then nodded. “Okay.”

Later, the apartment was quiet again. Lights dimmed. Seonghwa lay on his bed, blanket pulled neatly over him. He stared at the ceiling, thoughts slow and warm. He didn't close his door, left it ajar in case Seonie woke up and decided to migrate to his room.

From his room doorway, Hongjoong watched him through the gap from the door being left ajar.

Just for a moment.

He noticed the way Seonghwa slept on his side, hands tucked close, expression peaceful in a way he hadn’t seen during the day. The softness he rarely let show.

Hongjoong turned away before he lingered too long.

In his room, he sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.

This was dangerous territory.

Not dramatic. Not sudden.

But real.

He thought of the way Seonghwa looked at Seonie. The way he listened. The way he stayed.

And for the first time, Hongjoong admitted it to himself, quietly, without panic.

I don’t want this to end.

Down the hall, Seonghwa shifted in his sleep, a small, content sigh escaping him.

The apartment held them both.

And somewhere between responsibility and care, between trust and something deeper, a new chapter was already beginning.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

Seonghwa woke up to silence.

Not the empty kind. The kind that meant the day had already started without him.

Light filtered in through the curtains at a slightly wrong angle. His phone lay untouched on the bedside table. The blanket was still folded the way he liked it, tucked neatly at the edges, familiar weight resting across his legs.

Nothing was out of place.

That was the problem.

He pushed himself up slowly, hair falling into his face, and checked the time.

10:42 a.m.

His chest tightened before he could stop it.

He hadn’t slept in this late in years. Not even on weekends. His body usually woke him early, even when he didn’t need it to, habits too deeply ingrained to turn off.

He sat there for a moment, grounding himself.

Hongjoong’s apartment.

The room he’d stayed in often enough that his clothes hung in the closet. His skincare lined one corner of the sink. Notes, books, a charger he’d forgotten to take home weeks ago.

A place he knew.

And still, something felt… off.

Not the room.

Him.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, exhaled.

Right. Weekend. Seonie had been sick. He’d stayed up late. Hongjoong had told him not to rush.

Still.

The sense of wrongness lingered as he swung his legs off the bed and padded quietly toward the door. The apartment smelled like coffee. Toast, maybe. Something warm.

He paused in the hallway.

Voices drifted from the living room.

Seonie’s, soft but insistent. “No, that’s not where it goes.”

A pause. Then Hongjoong, amused. “I’m just saying it could–”

“No,” she said firmly. “It’ll fall.”

Seonghwa smiled before he could stop himself.

He stepped out fully.

Hongjoong sat cross legged on the floor, sleeves rolled up, hair pushed back with his fingers more times than Seonghwa could count. Lego pieces were scattered everywhere. Seonie sat opposite him, rabbit tucked under her arm, expression serious in the way only children could manage.

They both looked up at the same time.

“Oh,” Hongjoong said, immediately shifting. “Morning.”

Seonghwa felt heat creep up his neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sleep so late.”

“It’s fine,” Hongjoong replied easily. Too easily. “She woke up early. I was already up.”

Seonie scooted closer to Seonghwa the moment he sat down, leaning lightly against his side as if that was where she’d meant to be all along.

“You were sleeping,” she said, not accusing. Just stating.

“I was,” Seonghwa admitted. “Did you eat?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “But I didn’t like the cereal.”

Seonghwa glanced at Hongjoong. “You offered cereal?”

“She refused everything else,” Hongjoong said defensively.

“I can cook,” Seonghwa said without thinking.

Hongjoong blinked. “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” Seonghwa said. “But I can.”

Seonie looked between them, eyes lighting up. “Eggs?”

Seonghwa smiled. “Eggs.”

The kitchen was small but familiar now. Seonghwa moved through it instinctively, even though he still checked drawers twice, still hesitated before reaching for anything. He cracked eggs carefully, movements slower than usual, aware of the weight in his limbs.

Behind him, Hongjoong leaned against the counter, coffee mug in hand.

“You didn’t wake me,” Seonghwa said quietly.

“You looked exhausted,” Hongjoong replied. “I didn’t think you needed another alarm.”

Something about that made Seonghwa pause.

“Thank you,” he said, softer.

They stood like that for a moment. Not facing each other. Close enough that Seonghwa was aware of Hongjoong’s presence in a way that felt new. Not overwhelming. Just there.

Seonie interrupted by climbing onto a chair that was definitely too tall for her.

“I’m not sick anymore,” she announced.

“You still need to eat properly,” Seonghwa said gently, sliding the plate toward her once he was done.

She pouted but complied.

Later, while Seonie built quietly at the coffee table, Seonghwa sat on the couch, notebook open on his lap. He tried to reorganize his notes. Tried to rewrite something from memory.

Nothing stuck.

His phone buzzed.

A reminder he’d set weeks ago flashed on the screen. Study group. Cancelled, unread messages piling up beneath it. He hadn’t replied last night. Or the night before.

Hongjoong noticed the shift immediately.

“You okay?” he asked, not looking at him directly.

“Yes,” Seonghwa said automatically.

Hongjoong hummed, unconvinced but not pushing.

“I’ll be in my office for a bit,” he said. “Call me if you need anything.”

Seonghwa nodded.

He watched Hongjoong disappear down the hallway, then looked back at his notebook. The words blurred together. He closed it instead.

Seonie glanced up. “You’re not reading.”

“I know,” Seonghwa said.

“Are you tired?”

He considered lying. “A little.”

She scooted closer, leaning her head against his arm. Not asking for sleep. Just contact.

Seonghwa stayed very still.

In the office, Hongjoong stared at his screen without absorbing anything. His attention kept drifting. To the living room. To the quiet between sounds. To the image of Seonghwa hunched slightly, shoulders drawn in the way they always were when he was trying not to be a burden.

This wasn’t just about Seonie.

That thought settled heavier than he expected.

At lunch, Seonghwa burned the toast.

He stared at it like it was a personal failure.

Hongjoong wordlessly scraped it into the trash and put new slices in.

“You don’t have to fix everything,” Seonghwa said.

“I know,” Hongjoong replied. “I want to.”

Their eyes met briefly. Something passed between them. Not sharp. Not dramatic. Just… present.

Later, Seonie sprawled on the floor, building again. No nap. Just quiet play.

Seonghwa sat at the table, laptop open now, trying to catch up. His leg bounced unconsciously.

“You’ve been doing that a lot,” Hongjoong observed.

“Doing what?”

“Trying to be in three places at once.”

Seonghwa exhaled slowly. “I don’t like falling behind.”

“On school?”

“On anything.”

Hongjoong studied him. “You don’t have to prove anything here.”

Seonghwa looked at him then. Really looked.

“I know,” he said. “I just don’t know how to stop.”

That landed differently.

Hongjoong didn’t respond right away.

Seonghwa noticed the silence wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was waiting.

The afternoon light shifted slowly, creeping across the floor in thin bands. Dust motes floated, visible only when the sun caught them just right.

Seonghwa closed his laptop without finishing anything.

The screen went dark, leaving his reflection faint and unfamiliar. He exhaled through his nose and leaned in the chair, eyes closing for a second longer than necessary. 

When he opened them again, Hongjong was standing closer than he expected.

Not looming. Just…there.

“Sorry, “ Hongjong said, immediately stopping. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“You didn't," Seonghwa replied, though his heart betrayed him by jumping anyway.

Hongjoong held a glass of water out. “You haven’t had any in a while.” 

Seonghwa accepted it automatically. Their fingers brushed. 

Again.

This time, Seonghwa was the one who pulled back too fast.

“Thank you,” he said, clearing his throat before taking a sip.

Hongjoong didn’t comment, but his gaze lingered. Not on Seonghwa’s face but on his hands. The way they wrapped carefully around the glass. The faint tremor that wasn’t there earlier.

“You’re shaking,” Hongjoong said quietly.

Seonghwa blinked. “I am?”

“A little.”

He looked down, surprised, and steadied himself. “I guess I didn’t notice.”

Hongjoong nodded. “You rarely do.”

That shouldn’t have felt intimate. But it did.

Seonghwa glanced up. “You notice a lot.”

Hongjoong didn’t deny it. “I’m used to paying attention.”

“To everything?”

“To people,” he corrected.

The distinction mattered more than Seonghwa expected.

Seonie let out a triumphant little sound from the floor. “It stands!”

Seonghwa’s attention shifted instantly. “Really?”

She nodded vigorously, pointing at her slightly lopsided Lego structure. Seonghwa crouched beside her, careful as ever.

Hongjoong watched him lower himself without thinking. The smoothness of the movement, the way his cardigan slipped down his shoulder again.

Before Hongjoong could stop himself, he reached out.

He fixed it.

Just tugged the fabric back into place.

Seonghwa froze.

Hongjoong froze a split second after.

“Oh–sorry,” Hongjoong said, withdrawing his hand quickly this time.

Seonghwa’s ears were unmistakably red.

“It’s– it’s fine,” he said, voice softer than usual. “I just..wasn’t expecting it.”

Hongjoong nodded once, pulse steady but loud. “Right.”

They stood there, both very aware of the space between them. Or rather, how little of it there was.

Seonie, again, saved them.

“Can you help me with the door?” she asked.

Seonghwa moved immediately, grateful for something to focus on. Hongjoong stepped back, giving him room, though his gaze stayed fixed on the way Seonghwa’s brow furrowed in concentration.

Later, when Seonie wandered off to draw quietly, Seonghwa returned to the table. He picked up his pen, then set it down again.

“You don’t have to push today,” Hongjoong said from the counter.

Seonghwa didn’t look up. “I know.”

“You say that,” Hongjoong replied, “but you’re still trying.”

Seonghwa hesitated. “If I stop, it feels like everything else might fall apart.”

Hongjoong watched him carefully now. The honesty in his posture. The way his shoulders curled inward, protective.

“That’s not how it works,” Hongjoong said.

“That’s how it feels.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was full of things Hongjoong didn’t know how to say yet.

He stepped closer again, resting his hand on the back of the chair Seonghwa sat in. Not touching him. But close enough that Seonghwa could feel the warmth through the thin space between them.

“You don’t have to hold everything alone,” Hongjoong said.

Seonghwa looked up at him.

Their eyes met.

Held.

Just a second too long.

Seonghwa looked away first, swallowing. “I’m not used to… sharing the weight.”

“I know,” Hongjoong said softly. “I’m not asking you to drop it. Just..let someone stand next to you.”

The phrasing made Seonghwa’s chest tighten.

“...Like you?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Hongjoong’s breath caught. Just slightly.

“Yes,” he said.

Seonghwa nodded, not trusting himself to say anything else.

Seonie padded over then, clutching a crayon. “Can I draw here?”

Seonghwa smiled immediately. “Of course.”

She climbed onto the chair beside him, bumping his arm gently. Hongjoong’s hand moved instinctively to steady the chair.

Another touch. This one unavoidable.

Hongjoong’s fingers brushed Seonghwa’s wrist.

They both noticed.

Seonghwa’s shoulders tensed, then slowly relaxed when Hongjoong didn’t move away right away. The contact lasted maybe two seconds.

It felt longer.

Hongjoong withdrew first this time.

“I’ll… check my emails,” he said, voice carefully neutral.

Seonghwa nodded, eyes fixed on the paper in front of him that he wasn’t really seeing.

As Hongjoong walked away, he realized something with startling clarity.

This wasn’t about proximity.

It was about permission.

And somehow, without either of them naming it, they were already giving it to each other.

— —

The apartment settled into a different rhythm as the afternoon wore on.

Not busy. Not lazy. Just… shared.

Seonghwa found himself noticing Hongjoong in fragments. The soft click of keys from the office when the door was half open. The way Hongjoong paused mid-sip of his coffee whenever Seonie spoke, attention shifting instantly. The low hum he made when reading something that irritated him.

It wasn’t distracting.

That was the problem.

Seonghwa tried to focus on his notes again. Tried to rewrite a paragraph he’d half-finished last week. His handwriting came out uneven, letters slightly slanted in a way that annoyed him.

He stopped.

Across the room, Hongjoong leaned against the doorframe of his office, arms loosely crossed. He wasn’t looking at the screen anymore.

He was looking at Seonghwa.

Not openly. Not boldly. Just… there. Like he’d forgotten to look away.

Their eyes met.

Hongjoong blinked first this time.

“Sorry,” he said, straightening immediately. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

Seonghwa’s grip on his pen tightened. “It’s okay.”

A beat.

“You’ve been doing that a lot,” Seonghwa added, quieter.

Hongjoong hesitated. “Doing what?”

“Watching,” Seonghwa said. Not accusing. Just observant.

Hongjoong let out a small breath through his nose, something between a laugh and a surrender. “You notice everything.”

“I don’t,” Seonghwa replied. “Just… patterns.”

That earned him a look. Something thoughtful.

Hongjoong didn’t say anything else. He just nodded once and returned to his office, door closing softly behind him.

The absence felt louder than the presence had.

Seonghwa frowned at that.

Seonie wandered over with her drawing a few minutes later, climbing onto Seonghwa’s lap without asking. He adjusted automatically, one arm curling around her to keep the paper steady.

“Is this good?” she asked.

“It’s very good,” Seonghwa said honestly.

She beamed, then leaned back against his chest, satisfied.

From the hallway, Hongjoong paused mid-step.

He hadn’t meant to watch again.

He really hadn’t.

But something about the way Seonghwa’s arm rested around Seonie, protective but loose, never tight, made his chest ache in a way that was unfamiliar and deeply inconvenient.

He turned away before Seonghwa could look up.

Later, when Seonie went to wash her hands, Seonghwa stood at the sink beside Hongjoong, both of them rinsing cups they hadn’t really used.

Their shoulders brushed.

This time, neither moved away.

“About earlier,” Hongjoong said quietly, eyes on the water. “If it made you uncomfortable–”

“It didn’t,” Seonghwa interrupted, faster than he meant to.

Hongjoong looked at him then.

Seonghwa swallowed. “I just… wasn’t expecting it.”

“I should be more careful,” Hongjoong said.

The word sat between them for a while, silence crept.

Seonghwa dried his hands slowly. “You don’t feel careless.”

Hongjoong’s fingers stilled.

“That’s not what I meant,” Seonghwa added, flustered now, ears warming again. “I mean- you’re not thoughtless. I didn’t think you were.”

Hongjoong studied him for a moment. Like really studied him.

“You’re very honest,” he said.

Seonghwa blinked. “I am?”

“With your reactions,” Hongjoong clarified. “Even when you don’t mean to be.”

That shouldn’t have felt like being seen.

But it did.

They moved apart after that. Naturally. Carefully. As if both of them had agreed, silently, to step back half a pace.

But the awareness stayed.

That evening, as Seonie curled up with her book and Hongjoong answered a call in the hallway, Seonghwa watched the way Hongjoong listened, focused, brows drawn, jaw tight.

When Hongjoong hung up, he caught Seonghwa looking.

This time, Seonghwa didn’t look away.

Hongjoong’s breath hitched, just slightly.

“What?” he asked.

Seonghwa shook his head. “Nothing.”

Hongjoong nodded, unconvinced but letting it go.

They were learning each other’s tells.

And learning, slowly, how dangerous that could be.