Chapter Text
Chan flips his phone over from where it's ringing on his lap, screen lit up with the phrase Jeongin would like to Facetime… and a sweet picture of him and his boys as the background. How is it that Jeongin could tell from miles away that his dad’s courage is wavering? He accepts the call, hearing Jeongin’s voice in his earphones before his face loads on the screen. Seungmin’s behind him, too, both of them grinning like the little idiots they are.
“Dad!” Jeongin starts, and Chan’s heart already fills with fondness. “It’s another normal day, so we thought we’d give you a call.”
“Oh is it?” Chan chuckles, “How come I don’t get calls on any other normal days, then?”
“Aww, we call you plenty.” Seungmin inches closer to the camera, making a face. “Today’s just different. A normal difference.”
“So it’s special.” Chan says.
“I guess you could say that….” Jeongin looks deceptively thoughtful, clearly clowning his poor father, as the two of them do literally every chance they get. He grins, “Anyways, good luck on your first day of school, Dad. Your other son and I are so proud of you.” He slings his arm over Seungmin. “You’re gonna do great, make lots of friends, and eat your weight in pork at the canteen.”
“Thank you, boys.” Chan says, sincerely. “Although I don’t think traditional university rules apply to me. I really think I’ll go to class and then go home to do the laundry. I’d have to eat all that pork on my own dime, unlike the two of you.” He teases back, making Seungmin close his eyes in mock offense.
Seungmin pipes up, “Seriously, though. We are proud of you. It’s not easy to chase after your dream at such an advanced age.”
“Why did I even answer this call?” Chan wonders aloud, looking around at the calm quad in front of him.
“Because we’re the only friends you have. Also, you love us. Also also, you know we really just want you to do well and live happily.” Jeongin gets quiet for a moment, “With everything that’s been going on, Minnie and I know you’ve been acting well for our sakes. It’s nice to see you do something for yourself for once.”
“Aish, you’re more observant than I give you credit for.”
“You’ll be alright, Dad. It’s okay to feel nervous. Just remember, Innie will always be braver than either of us.” Seungmin gives him a genuine smile.
“That’s a comforting thought, Min. Thank you both for the confidence, and I’ll try to ignore all the insults you both flung at me in the last five minutes.” Chan waves them off, says goodbye, and hangs up.
He’s left sitting on this bench, alone, but feeling marginally better. Jeongin was right, he has been putting up a front for his sons. The messiness of his and Minho's divorce, Chan’s loneliness; it’s not their burden to bear. But, he has no regrets in his life, grateful for each choice that made him. Especially when he became a father.
He had been so young when they were born, and for so many years, Minho and the boys were his first priorities. Chan was there, at every doctor’s appointment and every preschool play, at every swim meet and every baseball game, at every parent association meeting, with whatever job was flexible enough for him to attend it all. It’s overwhelming, suddenly, to remember himself: acne ridden and frazzled, with a baby holstered in the front and back of the light blue twin carrier around his torso. Barely 19 and constantly uncertain, convinced he wasn’t enough to give these boys the life they deserved.
It’s thrown him off, taking this for himself. Going back to school, getting a formal education for his favorite hobby; making music that maybe will be used for more than just family karaoke.
All of a sudden, Chan feels buoyed with a strange hope. He’s not the kind of person that half-asses anything. He’s doing this for his sons; he’s doing this for himself. It’s refreshing, and terrifying. Chan is a child, all over again.
He checks his watch, his first class is in a building not far from this bench. He looks at a few passersby, their young faces intimidating. Then, he gets up and adjusts the strap of his bag before moving on.
-
Despite waking up early, and planning an outfit the night before, Jisung perpetually plays catch up. He’s stumbling across campus, cartoonishly balancing his stuff, his jacket, and his wits. His therapist-endorsed positive self-talk last night was just littered with how good of an impression he was going to make today, but he’s given up the ghost already.
He’s been so desperate to start his music production classes, trudging through two years of general ed just to have a chance at his dream. The only reason he even made it here is because his brain is so full of Concerta and caffeine that he's basically on academic auto-pilot. Jisung’s ready to be present, to feel purposeful, and to not use Garageband.
He almost misses the door to his class, which his phone says he’s arrived at with two minutes to spare. Jisung’ll take that. He scans the room, finds a computer with an empty seat, and runs over, practically diving in his haste to appear put-together and on-time. Counterproductive.
Jisung gets his things in order, sighs in relief, and turns casually to the computer next to him. He’s the picture of time management, the paragon of independence, the sultan of-
Oh fuck, He thinks, I sat next to the instructor.
The man at the computer directly next to him definitely saw his display. From the looks of it, the man is older, clearly prepping his instructional material before he goes to the front projector. He’s got an open, handsome face, and is wearing a knowing smile.
Christ, Jisung thinks, miserably, He’s the teacher and he’s hot, and now he knows I’m a loser.
The door to the lab opens again, another older man striding in. He puts his things down at the desk of the projecting computer, and Jisung blinks. The man tells everyone to login and open the school’s production program as he’s passing out the syllabus.
The man next to Jisung seems to not have been aware of his turmoil, and sticks out his hand to shake. Jisung takes it, and the man smiles widely, eyes crinkling in a genuine way.
“I’m Chris. Uh, Chan. Actually, either is fine.” He says, hand warm and grip strong around Jisung’s.
“Shouldn’t I call you hyung?” Jisung says, by way of replying, idiotically.
Chan’s face looks like he doesn’t know if he should laugh or not.
“I’m Jisung. Or Han. Either is fine, um, too.” He says, when Chan says nothing. He’s still shaking Chan’s hand, embarrassingly enough. Chan just looks so. Worldly. Which Jisung realizes is another way of saying he looks old, but Chan has the air of experience, like he shouldn’t even be here.
“I’m glad to meet you, Han-ah.” Chan looks down at Jisung still shaking their hands. His other hand pats over Jisung’s and then he pulls them both away. “I told myself I needed to introduce myself to someone so that I could ask them if I got lost.” He laughs, softly.
Jisung can’t even respond, so deeply charmed by this Experienced Hyung. He smiles back, in what he hopes looks polite and not restrained. He logs in to his computer, opens the production software, and picks up the syllabus from where the instructor left it on his computer’s desk.
As it turns out, Chan is not the one who needed to find a friend, because he seems so familiar with production software he could probably do this class with his eyes closed. Fifteen minutes into class, he pulls out his own audio workstation and starts to hook it up to the lab computer.
Jisung finds himself leaning over a few times to ask what keystrokes the instructor recently used to access what menu and what files and what functions, which Chan rattles off in perfect memory.
Jisung would be way more annoyed at being shown up this much if Chan wasn’t so earnest in his helpfulness. He’s only known Chan for an hour or so and he’s already so obnoxiously humble and kind. Jisung didn’t even know men that age could even navigate a computer, much less a complicated music production program.
It’s also weird how parented Jisung feels. The way Chan speaks to him is so obviously father-like it's almost cute. It’s comforting, too, already having someone that he thinks is looking out for him, no matter how minimal it is. Point being, Jisung’s very confused. He’s excited, and he’s learning, and he’s warm, and he’s wrestling with himself. The triple threat that Chan poses is so inconvenient for this new chapter in his life. How come Chan’s sweet, smart, and a DILF?
Jisung is just trying to become an amazing rapper, writer, and producer; his own triple threat. He can’t let a passing childish infatuation distract him from that.
At the end of class, Jisung thanks Chan for everything, says he hopes to see him around. He resolutely does not blush when Chan says the same, a smile overtaking his whole face. Jisung stammers through a goodbye and a wave. A tension he didn’t even know he was holding bleeds out of him when Chan leaves the room.
Best laid plans, and all.
-
Chan gets back to the apartment, decidedly not his apartment because it’s too stuffed full with family memories to only be his. It’s been a long time since he’s come back here alone and felt content. It’s the first day of the next two years. Surprisingly, it went better than he expected.
Meeting Han, his young classmate, was a pleasant surprise, too. He reminded Chan a little of his boys, but where they were assured, Han was harried. Just his youth, then. Bright, and hopeful youth. Chan’s not ancient, so he still hopes he has some of that youthful drive, too. Maybe sitting next to him was the universe’s way of inspiring that energy in Chan, too.
Chan heats up lunch and works through eating. He still needs to do his day job to fund his dream, and support Seungmin and Jeongin. His ex-husband, Minho, despite their less than amicable split, pays a fair share. He’s closely involved with the twins' lives, too. Between the two of them, Innie and Minnie don’t have to eat exclusively cup noodles and free event food for their last three years at university.
Chan scarfs down another bite of his instant ramyeon, more a product of overwork than financial strain. He could eat well, but that implies that he has the time to. Protein powder shakes and various microwavable foods have held him over since the boys moved out, so he sees no reason to change a stable thing.
His contentment lasts through the evening, feeling the rush of a new beginning. Chan savors it, his new independence and identity. Simultaneously, he’s got a lump in his throat. It’s guilt. Guilt for wanting this, and guilt for enjoying it at all. He knows it’s unfounded, but when he walks by his sons’ bedrooms, just how they left them, he struggles to swallow around it.
He just misses them. Misses how they laugh, and how they argue. Misses their weird twin telepathy that they never admit to having. Truthfully, he misses it all. Minho is still a great parent, and he loved him for all those years. This apartment used to come to life with their presence. It’s okay, though. The joy and the loneliness can coexist. Chan is still becoming.
-
As fate would have it, his beginning production class is three times a week, so it isn’t long until he’s back in the lab with Chan. They’re still covering basic functions of the program, so the instructor gives them a simple assignment to work on for the majority of class. Chan, predictably, uses this opportunity to flex his clearly well-defined production muscles, because he busts out a whole studio from his bag.
For a few minutes, Jisung just watches him, studies how he goes about completing the assignment, almost certainly going way beyond the rubric. He’s clicking all sorts of places, pressing all sorts of buttons, and Jisung can hear the result periodically playing through Chan’s nice headphones.
Chan notices him watching, probably because Jisung hasn’t moved a fucking inch since the project was assigned.
“Han-ah,” He starts, “Do you want some help?” He’s wearing a sweetly quizzical expression.
It twists something in Jisung’s gut.
“Why are you even here?” He blurts, then immediately realizes his idiocy.
Chan’s got quite the look on his face as Jisung continues, “I-I mean, hyung, like, clearly, you know what’s going on and how this works, so why are you in this class? You look like an honest-to-god producer already, what with all your equipment and shit. You could get up there and teach this, and if I’m being true to myself, I’d be more inclined to listen if it were you but, uh..” He trails off awkwardly.
“I’m here for a few reasons, Han-ah.” Chan starts his reply as soon as he allows for enough dead air between them that Jisung’s skin starts itching. “I’ve been into production as a hobby for years. I only needed to legitimize it with a degree. Hopefully it’ll give me more prospects. I need more experience with it as well. I’m quite rusty.”
“ Rusty ?” Jisung laughs, short, “If you’re rusty I’m an unfertilized egg.”
Chan covers his mouth to hide his surprised snort.
“I can show you, if you’d like. Might help you get started.”
Chan does help him, but once Jisung gets going, he’s on a roll. Their conversation wanes as both of them focus more on working than talking.
A few more minutes go by, and the class is dismissed, MIDI files are submitted and students are filing out of the lab.
Jisung knows what he said two days ago about his schoolboy crush, but is too overwhelmingly curious about Chan to leave him alone. Chan’s packing his materials up, defined arms tensing and relaxing under the movement.
Jisung gets a good look at Chan, then. He’s not the tallest man in the world, but he carries himself exactly like you would expect a man 8 inches his senior to. It’s fascinating to Jisung. Chan clearly works out, pecs and arms pulling against the fabric of his shirt. His face has a few wrinkles, frown lines, and two subtly perched crow’s feet, each at the outer corner of his eyes. But, he doesn’t look weary, and he doesn’t look old.
He just looks like… he’s been around the block a few times. That implies a lot more than just age and experience, but Jisung’s confident that Chan's experience extends to many areas. There’s no ring on his finger. It makes his tongue sit heavy in his mouth. He is overwhelmed with curiosity.
“Hey, Chan-hyung, if you’re busy you can say no, but I wanted to see if I could pick your brain for a few more things at the coffee shop down the street? I want to see if you have recommendations for the kind of equipment I should get or....” There he goes again, never ending a statement. He feels like his request is pretty innocuous, but that doesn’t stop his neck from burning up.
To any other college-aged student, it would sound like a date. Jisung hopes it doesn’t sound like one. He feels earnest and pure in his intentions, as he always is.
Chan seems to think on it, eyebrows raised to show he was listening. He finishes packing up, and lifts his bag off his chair. “Sure, Han-ah. I can’t stay too long, though. Have my real job to go to today, too.” He claps Jisung on the shoulder, bringing big Dad Energy to the now empty room. Jisung feels like Chan should have called him bud or sport for added flair.
He feels the ghost of Chan’s strong hand on him all the way to the shop.
-
Their trip to the coffee shop reveals a lot to Chan. Clearly, Han is a little fidgety no matter where he is. Also, he seems to be trying to win a competition with how many espresso shots are in his coffee. Chan has a feeling those two might be connected.
When Chan orders, he gets a muffin and a scone with his drink. As he’s bringing them back to their table in the corner, Han is absolutely gnawing on his lip for a reason he can’t discern whatsoever.
“Han-ah,” He says, and Han whips his head around, cheeks puffed and eyes a little wild. It’s cute, Chan thinks. He’s an adorable kid. “Scones or muffins?”
“Huh? Just in general? I’m more of a muffin guy, honestly. Chocolate chip if we’re really being specific.” Han chatters, excitedly.
“You’re in luck, then.” Chan pulls out the chocolate chip muffin from the paper bag, and sets it in front of Han.
“Oh, no, Chan-hyung, I couldn’t. That’s so nice of you but-”
“Frankly, Hannie, I would feel irresponsible if I let you go through the rest of your day with that much caffeine on an empty stomach. Call it, uh, a hyung’s instinct.” Chan refuses to take the muffin back, smiling with his hands up.
Han’s ears are red at the tips as he peels the paper off the muffin and takes a small bite. “Don’t you mean a father’s instinct?” He says, and then a panicked expression crosses his face. Chan has a feeling his brain to mouth filter has never been replaced.
It’s undeniably charming. Chan’s glad he gives off friendly dad vibes, and not weird-old-dude vibes. He has fun teasing Han a little, not showing his amusement at his outbursts.
“What makes you think that?” Chan asks, in what he thinks is a good mockery of an offended tone.
“Oh! Uh, am I wrong? Oh god, I’m so sorry, it’s just that you are so helpful and you wear button downs and it looks like you’d give good hugs and-” Han’s neck and cheeks are blushing now, too, embarrassed with himself. It’s truly adorable. Chan’s not very nice.
Chan giggles a little, “I’m only joking, Han-ah. I have kids, yeah. Two sons, about your age now, though they act like toddlers.” He can feel his fond smile at the thought of them.
“About my age?” Han says, disbelieving, “You look way too young to have kids in university.”
Chan doesn’t know who taught Han about having tact, but they clearly weren’t very thorough. Chan’s not annoyed by it, though. It’s sweet, and Han is all the more genuine for it. His face is starting to hurt from smiling, though.
“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” He says, winking at Han, trying to tease him more for his lack of subtlety. “That’s why I’m in university now. I was young, and I had to put it off for a few years to be the dad I wanted to be.”
Han keeps wringing his hands, picking at his cuticles. Chan wonders if those are Han’s typical idle behaviors, or if he’s nervous. He’s got no reason to be. Chan is about as intimidating as a stuffed bear. His husband used to tell him so.
“I see,” Han says, for once with brevity. He pulls at his muffin, and his fingers, and the strings on his jeans.
“So, about the production equipment,” Chan starts, “I’ve got a few more minutes to talk if you want my recommendations.”
This seems to put Han at ease, his expressive face shifting from slightly ashamed to bright once again.
Chan is fully endeared to him, and the way the world hasn’t cracked him open just yet. Or, maybe it has, and Han never compromised himself anyway.
-
Jisung is fucked. He is sooo fucked. He didn’t realize he was floating away on cloud nine until it dropped him unceremoniously back to Earth when Chan left the shop. He wonders if Chan could read it all over his face. Isn’t this how it always goes?
He spreads out over his couch, uncaring if his roommate comes home to find him like this, face down and bemoaning his existence. Jisung always, always comes on too strong, it freaks people out, and then they never want to see him again. To make matters worse, Chan’s almost twice his age, and has college-aged children. If there’s a longer shot in the world, Jisung wouldn’t know it.
Why can’t he just keep things the way they are? It would be wonderful to have a responsible hyung to look after him the rest of his school career, considering how much of a disaster he is. But no, he has to spend a whole morning imagining Chan’s strong arms wrapping around him, his awkward giggle in Jisung’s ear, his probably massive c-
The door jingles slightly, closing behind Jisung’s roommate, Felix. He can hear him toeing off his shoes.
“Glad I made brownies for my biology lab today. Looks like you need one, Jisungie.” Felix laughs a little, too, low like he thinks Jisung can’t hear him.
He groans into the throw pillows. Felix rounds the couch and sits on the edge of it, and Jisung can smell the brownie from here. It’s the only thing that prompts him to lift up his head.
Felix is an angel, figuratively and literally. He looks like a bipedal deer, and bakes like a Keebler elf. He is so cute it simply isn’t fair. Jisung takes the offered brownie and pouts a little. If he were Felix, he’d be in Chan’s lap yesterday. Felix is charming, acceptably quirky, and gorgeous. As if that wasn’t enough, Felix already has experience bagging older men, because he got together with a thirty-something postdoctoral adjunct named Changbin a few months ago and that seems to be going well.
Wait. Felix already has experience bagging older men. Felix already has experience bagging older men.
Mouth full of brownie, he sits up and yells, “You alreawdy hath experienth bagging oldwa men!”
“Can you chew first?” Felix rubs Jisung’s back as he inevitably starts coughing up brownie pieces.
Jisung swallows the rest, grabs Felix’s shoulders and looks him right in the eye. Felix has lived with Jisung for a few years, so he’s used to this, sitting back with a placid expression on his face.
“You’re with Changbin. How old is he? Thirty-eight? Is he a father? What kind of sex magic do you work on him?”
Felix circles his head around and around, a little mockingly. “First of all, he’s thirty-four. I don’t work any sex magic on him, and he doesn’t have any kids. He spends all his money on me.” Felix laughs, fully joking. “Why are you even asking? He doesn’t have a brother if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“No!” Jisung shakes him. “I, um, have a, uh, problem. I need your help with a fossil myself.”
“If you call them a fossil, they’ll never sleep with you.”
“Okay! He’s not a fossil, just really, really hot and kind and maybe twice my age but who’s counting, honestly-”
“Jisungie, oh my god.” Felix says, in English. He laughs, which twinkles like a bell. “You want my advice to help you land a DILF?”
“Yes! Yes,” Jisung cups his hands around Felix’s chin. “Please, I’d be forever in your debt. My eternal bro.”
“Aren’t you already forever in my debt for several other things?” Felix quirks his eyebrow, cutely. Damnit. How is Jisung ever going to match his boyish charm?
“Yes, but we’re not talking about that right now. I’m in a crisis here!” Jisung shakes him again, and Felix looks like he rolls his eyes a little before going into the kitchen to put up his brownies.
“Sungie, I love you, you know that, but aren’t you always in a crisis?” He rolls out the plastic wrap on the counter and sets the rest of the brownies in the middle of it.
“That’s the thing about being me, Felix, I am always in a crisis. If it’s not a crisis, it’s not important. So spill! How did you seduce Changbin with your youthful wiles?” Jisung is leaning on the back of the couch, shouting over into the kitchen.
“I didn’t seduce him. We talked. I flirted a little, because he’s hot and I’m me. Then, the next week I was at a restaurant with him. You just gotta try, and if he’s receptive, great; if he shuts you down, I’ll be here to nurse your wounds with ice cream and the Korean dub of Buffy.” Felix turns around, wipes his hand on a dish towel, and holds his arms out as if to say duh!
Jisung throws himself back down onto the couch so hard he bounces a little. “But you’re so, I don’t know, enchanting! You’re like Snow White and I bet Changbin lined up to be your little dwarf in a heartbeat.”
Jisung hears footsteps, and then sees Felix looking at him, bleached blonde hair hanging down. “We’re different, Jisungie. We don’t have the same charms. It’s okay. If he likes you, he’ll like your uniqueness. You’re so funny, and a great conversationalist, a bit of a homebody, and pure-hearted like no one I’ve ever met. The brownie will crumble in whatever way it’s going to crumble. The only thing you can control is yourself. Okay? Have a little faith. He’d be stupid not to like you.”
It’s impossible to try to argue with Felix when he’s so lovely all the time. Jisung speaks low, and small, “I just don’t want to be like a little kid to him. His sons are almost our age. I’m worried I’ll be stuck in the son-zone. Is that a thing? Trust me to make it one, if it isn’t already.”
“Would it make you feel better if I gave you a plan of action?”
Jisung shoots up so fast, he almost knocks their heads together.
-
On Friday afternoon, Chan sits at the kitchen table in the apartment. All of his assignments and work for the weekend are out in front of him. He made it to the end of his first week in one piece, and is doing pretty well considering.
Tonight, the twins are coming home for the weekend, celebrating the start to both of their semesters. Minho will probably drop them off, because he's still concerned about the two of them taking the train down the coast alone. Chan can't help but feel ambivalent towards seeing him. In his heart, he really hopes that he's well. Childishly, he resists moving on, but it's been long enough now that he wants to let it go. He's not even sure there's enough left of him that would make his apologies genuine.
Jeongin and Seungmin have been texting him all week, getting Chan excited for their visit. They spent their summer with Minho, so they haven't seen Chan for a while. Jeongin even asked if he could bring a friend, which hasn't happened since they were kids, so Chan is curious to find out what makes this one different.
Friends. Jeongin said that he and Seungmin were Chan’s only friends. Han is more like a hoobae than a friend, but Chan feels a strong sense of responsibility for him. Han was happy to see him again today. He came into the lab, heart-shaped smile as he brandished his new keyboard, audio workstation, and headphones. It made Chan proud, almost. Strangely.
Han seems to have relaxed more around him, now that they've talked more than twice. It makes Chan happy, seeing Han open up. He thinks Han takes a lot of things personally, which is saying something coming from him. It's nice, he's becoming more carefree. Chan can’t ever really escape being father-like, can he?
By the evening, he’s made a dent in his work, cleaned up, and started some bossam for dinner. He’s preparing the side dishes when a few knocks come from the entryway. Chan self-consciously smoothes out his shirt, and checks his reflection in the steel on the stove. It’s hopeless to discern anything from. Chan huffs and goes to open the door.
Immediately, two pairs of arms are wrapping around him, familiar smells surrounding him. The twins are not looking too different since he last saw them, but Jeongin’s dyed his hair again. It looks nice, he ruffles it.
“Hey Dad,” Seungmin says, from where he’s bent down into his shirt.
“Hey yourself,” Chan says, because of course he does. He looks up to the two still left in the hall. Minho stands next to who must be Jeongin’s friend.
Minho’s tall, he still has to look slightly up to meet his gaze. His features are so sharp and distinct, his perceptive eyes; yet he’s still soft, loose brown hair falling over his forehead, mouth yielding. Chan spent nearly twenty years knowing every little thing about him. He doesn’t know what to do with that knowledge now. There’s a million miles between them.
“Chris,” He says, nodding his head towards their sons, who have since pulled back to be under each of Chan’s arms. They look back and forth at each of their parents.
“I’ll drive them back on Sunday.” Chan says, mouth picking up in a slight smile.
“Thanks.” He says, and Chan can tell he means it. If it were up to Chan, the boys would be on that train in a second. He does it for Minho. “Bye boys.” They meet Minho in a hug, too.
There’s a chorus of bye’s, and then Minho makes his way back to the elevator, sneakers thumping against the tile. Chan catches a whiff of his shampoo as he turns. It’s different than he remembers. He tries not to be sad about it.
“So,” Chan says as he guides them into the apartment. “Who’s this?” He says it with his trademarked Dad voice, patting the friend on the shoulder. Seungmin makes his way behind Chan, sliding his shoes off.
He’s tall, taller than all of them. His hair is long, and bleached blonde, tied back out of his face. He’s got the looks of an idol, really.
Jeongin gravitates to him, and puts his hand around his friend’s waist. Must be a good friend of his, then.
“Dad, this is Hyunjin-hyung.” Hyunjin gives a wide smile, and reaches his hand out to shake. “He’s my boyfriend.”
It takes a moment for what Jeongin said to process, but Chan shakes Hyunjin’s hand straight away. He knows that this is important. This is one of those “make it or break it” moments of parenting. Chan isn’t surprised, but he’s so happy that Jeongin wants to share this part of himself with him. It’s humbling, to know that your child trusts you wholly.
“We’re so happy you’re here, Hyunjin. I hope you enjoy your time with us. I’m a much better host than these two, at least.” He laughs, and Hyunjin does, too.
“Thank you for having me, Bang-abeonim.” He bows politely.
He looks over to Jeongin, who has tears in his eyes. Jeongin’s not easy to tear up these days, despite his crybaby reputation as a child. Chan’s heart melts.
“Hey, Innie.” Chan folds him into his arms, “I love you, you know? I love everything about you. You’re so brave, huh?”
Chan can see Seungmin over Jeongin’s shoulder. Unsurprisingly, Seungmin’s making a goofy face. “I told you!” Seungmin blurts out. He slaps Hyunjin on the shoulder. “Jinnie-hyung and I knew it. We were right all along. How stupid would it be if our dad wasn’t cool with it? We’d have to just throw him out.”
“Hey, now, that’s a little harsh.” Chan admonishes, jokingly.
“You’d deserve it.” Seungmin quips back.
Jeongin laughs a watery laugh, startled and happy. Chan can feel him smiling into his shoulder. “I love you too, Dad.”
He understands Jeongin’s hesitation, though. He didn’t come about his queerness in the way that everyone would expect. When Minho transitioned, there wasn’t a split second that Chan stopped loving him. By the time Chan realized that he wasn’t as straight as he had originally thought, it didn’t matter, because he imagined that they’d grow old together. Minho was his sure thing.
Until he wasn’t. Until Chan messed it all up.
-
Jisung’s given himself a few weeks to put Felix’s plan into action. It’s not much of a plan, and requires a lot of improvisation on his part, but it’s given him a goal and that’s what matters. Now, his goal might be less than proper, but that doesn’t stop Jisung from spinning daydream after daydream from it.
Felix is probably tired of hearing about the minutiae of it all, Jisung’s endless musings a near constant over meals. In an attempt to shut him up, Felix invited Changbin for dinner for the first time tonight, even though usually Changbin just comes by late to sleep over, and then leaves before either of them wake up. Felix even told Jisung that he could invite Chan, but he thinks that it would make their apartment look too much like a sugar baby convention, so he declines. Some other time, Jisung tells him, after he’s had the opportunity to study Felix and Changbin’s relationship like some Lolita hobbyist.
“I keep saying,” Felix putters around the kitchen, “He’s normal. We’re normal humans about to have dinner. You’re gonna be disappointed when I don’t call him daddy.”
“Is that a thing?” Jisung fetches a notepad close to where he’s sitting at the counter bar. “Do you find that lots of couples with an age difference participate in daddy kink?” His tone shifts, like a reporter, pen poised over the paper.
“Actually, he calls me daddy.” Felix laughs, high and magical.
Jisung positively gapes , “Is that true? How am I supposed to face him knowing this about your sex lives? Is he your… baby boy ?”
Felix titters, “Oh my god, Jisungie, no. Even if we did, I wouldn’t really tell you about it. Knowing you, you’d get this idea that all sex has to be like, super kinky. Most of the time I’m just reaching over to jerk Changbin off before he leaves for work.”
Understandably, Jisung is scandalized, because that’s a measured reaction to have knowing your adult roommate has morning sex with his boyfriend in your shared apartment. “You do that, here? Under our roof? What about our eternal bro bond?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s actually a violation of the bro bond to not have sex in your own apartment. Doesn’t the sex give it credibility?”
“I wish you would stop making so much sense all the time. It’s really obnoxious.” Jisung, predictably, pouts, resting his chin in his hands that are leaned over the countertop. Felix reaches over to pinch him lightly, smiling brightly as he usually does.
There’s a curt knock, and Felix flits past him to go open the door, finding Changbin on the other side. Changbin leans forward, holding Felix at his elbows to give him a swift cheek kiss, which Jisung can tell Felix adores.
Why did he agree to this?
Changbin’s short, immediately noticeable, but followed by the realization of the man’s sheer girth. He’s huge, upper body clearly inundated with muscles. His traps, biceps, and pecs are so massive it’s clearly a challenge for his shirt to keep up with them. He’s so clearly Felix’s type it’s almost embarrassing, if Jisung wasn’t so jealous.
Changbin’s age is also apparent, especially when he’s opposite Felix. They look more like uncle and nephew than boyfriends. Jisung pointedly doesn’t acknowledge the little thrill that sends up his spine.
Felix turns to him, “Sungie, this is Changbin-hyung. Hyung, this is Jisung, my roommate, who you’ve probably heard getting up to piss five times a night.”
“Hey!” Jisung protests, “It’s usually twice.”
Changbin, understandably, has trouble deciphering the exchange, because his laugh is a little delayed. Jisung doesn’t know if that’s an age thing, or a Changbin thing. Instantaneously, his brain unlocks a new worry: what if Chan doesn’t think he’s funny? Humor is so subjective, especially by generation and-
“It’s nice to really meet you, Jisung-ah. Felix’s told me a lot about you.” Changbin’s voice derails his train of thought. “Only the worst things, though.”
Jisung makes a deranged face at Felix, whose own unimpressed eye roll tells all.
“Just kidding,” Changbin says, wry, “I thought I’d find those out for myself.”
“Oh, ha ha, very funny. You know, people with overactive bladders are linked to having superior problem-solving skills.” Jisung replies, totally bullshit.
“Yongbokkie said you’d say that.” Changbin has to smother a laugh.
It’s got Felix grinning, too. “No, I did not. ” Jisung’s thought about Changbin being too old to hang dissipates like a wispy cloud.
They sit down to eat some take out fried chicken that Changbin brought, delicious and fattening, which Jisung approves of. It’s a nice evening, giving him the opportunity to discreetly pick apart Felix’s relationship to find its base. Where is the commonality between the two of them? How can they relate to each other, beyond just interests?
Jisung learns that Changbin is really a nice guy; clearly he treats Felix very well, which is all fine in Jisung’s book. It isn’t long before the two ask to retire to Felix’s room for a movie and probably other stuff, too.
He figures tonight is as good as any to take a walk. He certainly wants to get out before the noises start.
After walking a few blocks, Jisung decides to call Chan. He’s feeling a little inspired by Felix’s success, and wants to push his luck.
He opens up his phone to their text thread, a short one since Jisung only got his phone number about a week ago. They’ve only texted about different production class projects and homework assignments, he’s never called him.
Chan answers it on the third ring.
“Han-ah?”
“Yeah, hyung, it’s me. Are you busy?” Like a middle schooler with a crush, Jisung is trying to sound mysterious, but it comes out like he’s panting.
“Not really, why? Do you need help with the homework? Did you even write down the assignment?”
“Ahh hyung,” Jisung whines, “Give me some credit, eh? I’ve made it this far, haven’t I?” He chuckles, just so Chan knows he’s not really harassing him. “But no, I wanted to chat. I’m sitting in a park because I’ve been sexiled from my apartment.”
Chan sounds like he chokes on something on the other end. “Well, uh, it’s getting dark out. You probably should be out there alone, especially distracted on your phone.”
Chan is such a dad, it’s unbearable.
“You should come over here if it’s not too far. I can stay on the line while you get to a bus. Here, hold on, let me text you my address.” Chan takes the conversation into his own hands, apparently.
Jisung checks the address, “No, not too far, actually.” The confident feeling in stomach from earlier has grown wings, a hundred new butterflies making their way up his throat. “Um, are you sure? I won’t be bothering you?”
“No, no, Hannie-yah. Please. It’ll make me feel better if I know you’re safe.”
Hearing that does no good for the nerves that are seizing him. Idly, Jisung knew that Chan enjoyed sitting next to him, he might even consider him a friend. However, this is confirmation that Chan actually cares about him, which takes the air out of Jisung’s lungs.
It gives him a glimmer of hope, too. The plan he’s formed goes kaput, jumping from step 3 to 300 in an instant. He’s not prepared, he’s not wearing anything especially impressive, he’s just Jisung.
He remembers Felix’s words about taking chances, says goodbye to Chan, and walks around the corner to the bus stop.
-
Chan has a brief moment of panic; what has he done? Invited a classmate who’s almost half his age to the apartment on a Thursday night. Only for a few hours, until Han’s roommate texts him. It’ll be fine.
He looks around the main room, and it's evident that Chan lives here alone. He’s not really meticulous by nature, so that manifests in his space. He puts family and work first, always. The result is that unfortunately wherever Chan lives is a mess. Dishes in the sink, dirty clothes on various surfaces, unswept floors. It was one of Minho’s pet peeves when they were together. It used to set his mouth into a thin line, and he would use all the politeness he had left to ask Chan to put his socks in the hamper (for the fifth time).
He scurries around the room, straightening up. He has no idea how far away Han is, or when he’ll arrive. Chan makes sure that the beer bottles make it into the recycling, and that there’s no underwear on any of the seating.
Chan’s so busy nervously cleaning, that he pays no attention to himself. Should he even think to change? He’s out of his daily attire, the things Han is accustomed to seeing him wear. He pauses, should he even be worrying about that? What does it say about him that he wants to look more handsome when Han arrives?
Impossibly, Chan has the time to change his pants and look in the mirror before Han shows up. When he opens the door, his thoughts melt away, and Han’s sheepishly cheerful face saves him from being mired in his own doubts. They are friends. Han is a sweet boy, and Chan is his nice, albeit old, hyung. That’s all it is.
“Channie-hyung!” Han smiles, all the way up to his eyes. It’s so pure that Chan can’t help but crinkle his own face in response. “Thank you for not leaving me out there, but you really didn’t have to!” He steps into the threshold when Chan extends his arm in welcome.
“I’ve met you, I think we both know that I had to.” He jokes, punching Han lightly in the arm.
Han waves his hand, “Aigoo. I am considered an adult in the eyes of the state, you know. I rent an apartment and have utility bills and everything!”
“All the more reason to be concerned.” Chan pats Han on the shoulder. “Come on in, then. Your, uh, friends should be done after a movie, right?”
“God, I hope so.” Han laughs. “If not, they’ll have to let me in regardless. I have some really nice speakers that could probably drown them out.”
When Han laughs, his eyes nearly close. Chan suddenly remembers that when he finds something particularly funny, Han’s lips will pull over his teeth the loose shape of a heart. Chan hopes he’ll get to see it happen tonight.
“I’ve got snacks, if you’d like any.” Chan retreats to the kitchen, calling back over his shoulder.
“I just ate at home, but thank you, hyung.” Han wrings his hands together at the entrance to the kitchen. “Though, I wouldn’t say no to a dessert.” His eyes are hopeful, and a little sly. Chan would wheedle delicious food out of a financially stable hyung if he had the chance, too.
It makes Chan laugh and shake his head, rolling his eyes in fake exasperation. “I remember buying ice cream recently, but…. My sons were here a few nights ago. You can check the freezer, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up. They’re both fiends.”
He busies himself returning a few dishes from their place on the drying rack to the cabinet.
Han gasps. “Hyung, it’s a miracle.”
Chan turns, chest warm.
There’s an ice cream container in Han’s hands, lid off to reveal what looks like barely enough for two small servings. Or one big one.
“I’ll get you a bowl.” He says to Han.
“What about you, hyung? Won’t you have ice cream with me?” Chan doesn’t think that Han means to put this much pout into his request, but Han’s teeth are too busy worrying at his bottom lip to notice.
“Okay, Hannie-yah.” He pulls down two small bowls, spooning evenly into them. Jisung’s face is lit up with the prospect of it.
They’re sitting with their bowls and cold spoons, on either side of the couch, trying to decide what to watch. Chan suggests watching something he’s pretty confident Han will like, just from the brief previews that Chan leaves running in loop.
For his age, Han’s pretty excitable. Immediately after hovering over it with the remote, Han nearly jumps from his seat. “I love this trilogy, hyung.” He gushes, “we can start with the first one tonight, to see if you like it?”
For once, Chan feels the pull of plans and friendship . He wants to like this movie, so that he can watch the sequel and so forth, inviting Han back to make a night of it.
The movie’s sweet, sentimental; it’s no surprise that Han loves it. At the start, he’s enraptured, and Chan can see him mouthing the dialogue out of the corner of his eye. As the movie progresses, and without the ice cream to distract him, Han sinks back into the couch a little more. Chan keeps looking over to see Han blink slower and slower, breathing evening out as he starts to drift off to sleep.
It’s unbearably cute. Not even the noise of the credits wakes him. He must be so exhausted. Han’s taking a lot more classes than Chan, and has a job at a convenience store to juggle, too.
Chan remembers what he would do at that age just to get a wink of sleep. He decides to let Han rest for a minute, he drapes a blanket over him and dims the lights enough that he can still see around the living room as he’s cleaning up.
Asleep, Han is impossibly more soft. His cheeks are rounded, hair slightly unkempt. Something tugs inside of Chan, too tame to be recognized. But it’s acknowledged all the same.
-
Jisung is so tired. There’s a gentle hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. He sputters a little, dazed and unfamiliar with his surroundings.
“Hey, Hannie. Felix called, wondering where you were. I told him I’d drive you home.” Chan speaks slowly.
“Oh, uh,” Jisung rubs at his eyes, clearing up his vision to see Chan clearer. “Is it late? I can take the bus, really.”
Chan tuts, “They aren’t even running at this hour.” His face looks strangely fond, he’s got a loose smile hanging on the corner of his mouth. Jisung can’t find another word to describe it. His sleep-addled mind wants nothing more than to pull him closer and not leave the comfortable warmth of Chan’s couch.
He knows Felix must be worried. Probably has his finger hovering over the 999 emergency call button on his phone, staring down the door. Jisung should be a good friend and update him. Jisung should get an Uber.
Chan is sitting on his very nice coffee table, holding Jisung’s gaze with that tender expression. Jisung wonders if he reminds Chan of his sons. The thought makes him burn a little, some shame and some jealousy stirring together. Jealousy towards anyone who’s been interested in Chan and had a shot at him, anyone older .
“You’d do that for me, hyung?” Jisung says, and he knows in his heart that he’s baiting for a certain response. A confirmation of affection, if not attraction. Jisung will take what he can get. His own tiredness ruined his plans anyway. This was supposed to be his night . He was supposed to get Chan to see him as more. But instead, he fell asleep watching a movie like a toddler.
“ ‘Course, Han-ah. I’m your hyung, aren’t I?” Chan laughs, and his eyes get caught up in his tenderness, smiling themselves closed. There’s his answer.
Jisung’s removed the blanket that was draped over him, the chill of the apartment returning to him. He sits up, opens his arms, and leans forward. He wraps his arms around Chan, and can hear the other’s soft “ oh ” before Chan returns the embrace. If Jisung’s destiny is to be son-zoned, he might as well be comfortable.
“Thank you, Channie-hyung. Seriously; for everything. The advice, the food, the, uh, napping, You’re a good person.” He takes it in, the strong arms encircling him, the shoulders shaking with laughter, Chan’s voice above him.
“It’s nothing, Han. I’m glad to have a friend.”
Chan’s hand slides up and cradles the back of Jisung’s head, rubbing his thumb across Jisung’s hairline.
Tears prick at Jisung’s eyes. He blinks them away, slow, and imagines days passing in Chan’s arms. It feels so silly to ache over a crush. How would he ever convince Chan that he was mature enough? It makes him feel worse to think about.
The hug has lasted long enough that Jisung’s convinced it’s entered ‘cuddling’ territory, but he just lets himself be held. Maybe they both needed this.
“Han-ah,” Chan starts.
“Jisung.” He replies, “You can call me Jisung if you want.” He’s digging his own grave; deeper.
Chan shakes with a quiet laugh. “Okay, Jisungie-ah. Maybe you should text your roommate back.” He makes no move to let Jisung go.
“Hyung,” Jisung rests his forehead where Chan’s neck meets his shoulders, he speaks into the air between their bodies. “Are you lonely?”
Chan’s fingers flex against his back. There’s a long pause. Chan’s so much more careful about his words.
“Ah,” There’s a waver in his voice. “You know, it’s very hard for me to lie.”
“So don’t.”
The noise of the apartment buzzes around them, the ice maker, and the space heater. Chan doesn’t stop holding Jisung’s nape.
“Yes. A little. When I’ve run out of things to do.”
Jisung hums. He can imagine how different Chan’s life used to be. Now, he’s sad for both of them. What a pair they make, orbiting around what they want.
He shifts, lifting his head before pulling back. He’s read this story before, he knows what happens next.
Jisung lifts his eyes to look Chan in the face. He’s still Chan, open and friendly and good. Why isn’t anyone here but Jisung? Chan is so handsome, and so smart, and so kind. He’s the best person Jisung’s ever met. So why does Chan come home to no one?
Jisung’s hands move of their own will. His right hand comes up to rest beneath Chan’s jaw, thumb pressing near Chan’s lips. Jisung can feel a little stubble. His left, absurdly, reaches up to push Chan’s hair back, and then just stays there.
Chan’s eyebrows are pinched slightly, and his lips fall open. His eyes are so dark. Jisung is drawn in. Chan’s curls feel so soft under his palm.
“Hyung,” He says, “don’t hate me for this.”
It’s been a while since Jisung’s kissed anyone. He figures it’s like riding a bike.
He tilts his head minutely, and pets Chan’s hair again, before pressing their lips together. It makes Jisung shiver down to his toes. There’s a subtle release of tension as Chan kisses him back, the light sound of their mouths moving against each other fills Jisung’s ears. It stays sweet, simple, just lips. Jisung couldn’t have imagined a more fulfilling dream of it.
Chan lets him lead a little, moving the kiss in a rhythm as Jisung feels himself getting warmer. He never wants to leave, the closeness like a blanket, like safety and comfort. One of Chan’s hands finds itself at Jisung’s hip, grasping. Jisung thinks it’s holding him together.
There’s a natural break, catching breath. Hands fall away. Chan’s eyes are closed. Neither of them say anything, and Jisung’s basking in the warmth of it all-
“Han,” Chan opens his eyes, and Jisung blinks lazily at him, smiling.
“Han,” He starts again, only just audible, “I think you should leave.”
Jisung’s blood runs cold, instantly.
“W-what?”
“I’ll get you a ride, but I think you should leave. It’s late.” Chan says, a little louder, his face steeled in a way Jisung’s never seen before.
“Hyung, I,” Jisung opens and closes his mouth, stunned. “I don’t understand.”
Chan’s expression is faltering. His eyes are sad. “Han-ah,” Gentler this time, “It’s late. Please. Go home and get some rest.”
Chan pulls him up by the hand and then walks away to grab his phone. In a daze, Jisung walks over to the entryway to put on his shoes. Chan asks him for his address and he gives it, detached.
“The car’s downstairs.” Chan says, after a few minutes of Jisung standing by the door, staring at the wall. “Goodnight, Hannie-yah.” He won’t come any closer.
Jisung only whispers it back, looking at his feet.
He gets in the car downstairs, and texts Felix that he’s on his way.