Chapter Text
Monday morning is always rough for the Lee family. After spending the weekend having fun and lounging around, it’s hard for them (read: Mark) to get back in the workday mood. Hence the multiple alarms back to back that keep ringing throughout the morning, and the many times that Mark hits snooze before he actually wakes up. It takes him rolling over one of his daughter’s toys for Mark to push himself up, suddenly hyper aware of his surroundings.
“Jiwoo?” Mark calls out, and he hears a soft thud next to the bed before a little head pokes up into view.
“Appa,” Jiwoo climbs onto the bed, crawling over towards him. She grabs Mark’s face, tiny fingers splayed over each of his cheek as she pulls him close to plant a kiss on his forehead. “Wake up, it’s morning. Wake up.”
“I’m up, I’m up,” Mark hums, picking Jiwoo up to place her in his lap, nuzzling their noses together. “What are you doing in my room so early, baby?”
“I wanted to play with appa, but appa was sleeping,” she says, grabbing her Lego that Mark rolled on earlier. “So I brought my toys here.”
“We can play, but maybe after I get you ready, okay? It’s already—” Mark pauses, reaching over to turn his phone on and check the time. “Oh my God, Jiwoo, we’re gonna be late!”
“We’re gonna be late?”
“Appa is gonna be late for work, and you, my darling, are gonna be late for school!” Mark exclaims as cheerfully as he could despite the panic arising inside him, moving Jiwoo out of his lap to grab his phone and check if he mistook the time. He didn’t—they have less than an hour to get ready, and that’s barely enough time for Mark to get himself and Jiwoo ready before Mark has to drop Jiwoo off at preschool. No wonder Jiwoo is already awake, playing in his room instead of sleeping in her own room. It’s already past the time she usually wakes up. “Why didn’t you wake me up, Jiwoo?”
“Because I wanted to play.”
Mark deflates at the blank stare his daughter gave him. He should’ve expected the kind of answer he was going to get from his three-year-old daughter. Her life consists of eating, sleeping and playing. The daily activities of a child are very limited. “I know, baby. I’m sorry, but you have to stop playing so we can get ready for school, okay? You want to meet your friends, don’t you?”
His daughter visibly lights up. “Friends! I want to see my friends at school!”
“We’ll see them very soon, sweetie,” Mark picks her up into his arms, pushing the toys scattered on his bedroom floor aside with his foot and making his way to the bathroom. “Do you wanna pick out what to wear after this?”
Jiwoo nods enthusiastically, almost thrashing in Mark’s arms until he lowered her onto her stool. “Can I wear something purple?”
“You can pick out something purple by yourself later, okay? But first, we have to wash up,” Mark says, reaching over to grab the pink toothbrush from the holder attached to the mirror. Jiwoo whines—she’s never liked brushing her teeth, but Mark is persistent in making sure she does it every morning. “Okay, say ‘ah’ for me, please.”
Jiwoo opens her mouth, and almost automatically, Mark starts singing the Cocomelon song that Jiwoo is always listening to. It proved to be useful after the first time Mark put it on to distract her while he brushed her teeth, and it became some sort of routine for Mark, to recite the song while getting Jiwoo ready in the morning. Sometimes he finds himself humming to it even when he’s getting ready while Jiwoo is still sleeping, a result of hours upon hours of camping on the Cocomelon YouTube channel as Jiwoo’s source of entertainment when she was smaller.
Once he’s done with giving Jiwoo a relatively quick shower and telling her to wait for him in her room, Mark ushers her away to let her spend some time picking out her outfit while he washes up himself.
“Appa is gonna shower now,” Mark announces, earning a little ‘Okay!’ from Jiwoo as she makes her way to her room.
After over three years of being a single parent, Mark has grown used to spending as little time in the shower as possible, except for nights when he’d put Jiwoo to bed and spend some time just sitting under the running water. It’s gotten significantly better now that he’s able to take his eyes off of Jiwoo without worrying about her rolling over or hitting her head somewhere. Mark definitely does not miss the days where he’d bring the baby monitor in the shower with him and rush out at the smallest noise that came from the monitor to check on his daughter.
Mark steps out after rinsing the last of the body wash off and gives himself a moment to stare at his reflection. He looks tired, the dark circles under his eyes already a familiar look on him after endless weeks of sleep deprivation from life in general combined with taking care of his daughter. It’s only the start of the week, but Mark can already feel the fatigue seeping into his bones.
With a light smack on his cheeks, Mark straightens himself up. He usually gives himself time to just breathe and get himself together before letting the chaos of the day drive him forward, but they’re late, and he doesn’t have the time to give himself the luxury of doing that right now. It can wait for tomorrow morning, hopefully.
Mark forgoes his own room and heads to Jiwoo’s after slipping into his undershirt and briefs, rubbing his hair dry and hoping that there’ll be enough time for him to dry it after doing Jiwoo’s hair. Jiwoo is halfway done with her shirt and skirt on, but the shirt is inside out, and the skirt is pulled up almost to her chest. Mark lets out a chuckle at the sight of his daughter in that state, struggling to pull on her mismatched socks. That’s probably Mark’s fault.
“Do you need help, Jiwoo?” he asks, plucking out the correct half of her pair of socks from the little pile that he should really get to sorting out and approaching Jiwoo.
“Please, appa,” Jiwoo says, huffing as she gives up on putting on her socks.
“Okay,” Mark settles down, tapping the space in front of him. “Come here.”
Jiwoo pouts as she scoots towards him. Mark offers her a smile as he gives her another chance to put her clothes on, turning the shirt the right way and pointing where the waistband of the skirt should be. Jiwoo has been growing more and more independent these days that sometimes Mark wouldn’t have to even watch over her as she gets ready, but perhaps Mark had let her see how frantic he is this morning, and that has affected her too.
“All good?” Mark confirms, reaching for her hairbrush. Jiwoo nods, quickly seating herself in front of Mark with her back facing him. “I’m gonna start brushing your hair, okay?”
“Appa, can you make bunnies?” Jiwoo tilts her head up in Mark’s direction. (‘Bunnies’ in this context are pigtails; Jiwoo decided that calling them bunnies suits her preferences more, and Mark is too enamoured to correct her over something so trivial.)
One of the main hurdles of being a single parent who’s raising a daughter is the fact that Mark can’t depend on anyone else to develop a certain parental skill, such as hairstyling. Jiwoo has inherited Mark’s curly hair, and that itself took Mark a long time to figure out how to take care of since he’s never kept his hair long, so styling it is a whole other challenge for him. In fact, he still sucks at doing any kind of hairstyles other than putting hair clips or a headband on her most mornings.
“I’m so sorry, baby, but I don’t think we have time for that,” Mark says, and he almost wants to take his words back at the little pout on Jiwoo’s face, but a quick glance at the clock reminds him that he doesn’t have a choice. “I promise I’ll do it tomorrow, okay? For today, you can pick out which hair clip you want to wear. Appa will put them on for you.”
“Promise?” Jiwoo asks with her pinky finger held out after Mark is done clipping the hair clips in place, smoothing down any strands that refuse to cooperate.
Mark smiles down at her and links his own pinky with hers. “I promise,” he says before swooping her in his arms. “Now let’s get you something to eat while I get ready.”
With Jiwoo all done and occupied with the TV and a slice of bread as her breakfast, it was definitely easier for Mark to focus on other things. He got himself ready in record time, foregoing any attempt to check the mirror as he grabbed his stuff and just praying that he looks decent and presentable enough for work, before remembering to grab Jiwoo’s little art project that she had done over the weekend and wanted to show to her teachers.
The alarm that Mark had set to ring everyday at the time they are supposed to leave the house to make sure they would arrive on time rings just as Mark was cutting up an apple for Jiwoo’s lunchbox.
“Shoot, shoot, shoot,” Mark mutters under his breath when the knife nicks his finger, and blood starts oozing out of the little cut. This morning is about to become Mark’s worst morning ever, and that’s saying a lot considering he’s raising a three-year-old by himself. “Jiwoo, we’re gonna go now! Can you turn off the TV for appa, please?”
Mark is frantically moving around the kitchen, trying to make sure none of the blood got anywhere near Jiwoo’s food while still finishing it up. He ends up with a tissue balled up and pressed against the cut as he wedges it between his fingers to keep it in place, and he uses all of his other available fingers to grab all of their bags before meeting Jiwoo at the front door, who’s already almost done with putting her shoes on.
“Jiwoo, did you put those on by yourself?” Mark asks as he hops around to slip into his own shoes.
Jiwoo nods, raising one of her feet and pointing at the velcro of her shoes. “Yes! I did this thing, and that thing too!”
Mark only understands half of what she said, but she would always wait for Mark to help her wear her shoes up until a week before, so this is a big milestone for her. It’s moments like these that make Mark find pausing everything and focusing on nothing but his daughter to be worth it. “That’s good, Jiwoo. You did really well.”
The cheeky smile that Jiwoo gives Mark as she says ‘thank you appa!’ melts Mark’s heart, and for a split moment he forgets how late they were, but the alarm ringing again cuts his indulgence short and has Mark back in rush mode to get them out of the house.
“Alright, come on now. We’re super duper late already,” Mark says, ushering Jiwoo out of the front door.
The journey from their house to Jiwoo’s preschool doesn’t actually take that long, taking only 10 minutes on most days, but Mark’s workplace is around 40 minutes away on good days where he leaves at the designated time to avoid the traffic jam. On days like today, it could take as long as an hour, and Mark’s chances of making it in time is very slim considering how late they already are.
Mark gets Jiwoo in her carseat in record time, going over the things that he’s grabbed earlier in his head to check if he had left anything in the rush. Jiwoo is already humming to herself by the time Mark gets into the driver’s seat, Mark sparing a glance at her before starting the engine and driving out of the parking lot.
Despite the bump in their morning routine, the drive to Jiwoo’s preschool is much more peaceful, with Jiwoo humming to herself and occasionally pointing out something outside, like a crane on the construction site that she sees through the window. Mark impatiently taps his fingers against the steering wheel when they get stuck at the traffic light because the car in front of them stopped even before the light turned red.
“We’re here!” Jiwoo sings the moment the preschool comes into view, and Mark doesn’t have to turn to know that Jiwoo is already bouncing up and down in her carseat.
“Yes, Jiwoo, we’re here,” Mark chuckles, turning the engine off. “Wait for me to get you out, okay?”
The next challenge of the morning comes in the form of Mark trying to keep his cool and remain as calm and composed as possible as he steps out of the car to get Jiwoo out because every single day, without fail, there will be a certain someone standing at the front door of the preschool, smiling and waving excitedly at Jiwoo the moment she sets her eyes on him. Jiwoo waves back with triple the enthusiasm, and Mark has to hold her back from sprinting towards the man as he goes to grab her bag from the boot, where he had haphazardly thrown it along with his bag earlier. He hopes none of the food in Jiwoo’s lunchbox was jostled too much.
“Good morning, Teacher Huang!” Jiwoo exclaims even though there’s still a good few metres of distance between them and the front door where Teacher Huang is actually waiting for them. “Jiwoo’s here!”
“Good morning, Jiwoo,” Teacher Huang beams at her, directing his gaze towards Mark to offer him an equally wide smile and a nod of his head. “Good morning, Mr Lee.”
It was just a split second where Mark’s eyes met his, but it was long enough for Mark to feel heat creeping up his cheeks, forcing him to duck his head as he trails behind Jiwoo. “Good morning,” he mumbles.
“Did you two have a good weekend?” Teacher Huang asks, his hands outstretched to get Jiwoo’s bags from Mark. Jiwoo has started tugging at his apron the moment she was prompted to speak, happy to run her mouth off answering her teacher’s question.
“We went to see Uncle Donghyuck and played with Coco, and then we went to doggy park, and then appa got toys for Coco, and then we went to eat, and then—”
“Jiwoo,” Mark stops her before she could continue her ramblings—Mark is seriously going to be late if she goes on. “Appa has to leave already, so you can tell your story to Teacher Huang later, okay?”
“Bye bye, appa,” Jiwoo quickly says, and Mark was slightly offended at the sudden disinterest, until he catches a glimpse of a boy peering by the wall inside. Mark recognises him; it’s one of Jiwoo’s friends, and he might’ve heard Jiwoo’s booming voice when they arrived.
“Bye bye to you too,” Mark mutters, knowing that Jiwoo has already kept her shoes in her spot on the shelf and is already running off to meet her friend. Well, off she goes. Mark steals a glance at Teacher Huang, surprised that he was still there watching him. “Um, I’ll pick her up at the usual time.”
“Of course. I’ll see you later then, Mr Lee,” he says. “By the way, you have something in your hair.”
Mark’s hand shoots up to start patting his head. He avoided taking the time to check his appearance in the mirror all morning, so it really could be anything ranging from a tiny thread to an apple peel, and Mark wouldn’t have noticed it. Teacher Huang might have noticed how Mark was panicking while patting around on his head, because he suddenly places Jiwoo’s bag down and steps closer towards Mark.
“Wait, let me help you,” he says, leaning forward and onto his tippy toes to get a view of the top of Mark’s head. Mark is quick to retract his own hand, but apparently not quick enough to avoid Teacher Huang’s hand, their fingers grazing against each other and heating up Mark’s cheeks even more.
When Teacher Huang pulls his hand away from Mark, he sees a tiny hair clip between his fingers. “I don’t think you meant to put this on for work.”
“That- Yeah. Sorry, thank you,” Mark stutters out as he takes the clip from him, giving the man a slight bow before scurrying away back to his car. His heart feels like it’s beating right out of his chest when he finally gets in the car, pulling down the mirror to check if there’s anything else that’s stuck in his hair.
Mark is quite used to people plucking things out of his hair, a result of him putting his entire focus on his daughter whenever she’s around. He can’t count how many times his friends have pulled stray leaves and branches from his head when they go to the park. The only difference is that none of his friends are Teacher Huang.
It’s quite silly. Mark doesn’t even know his first name, has always referred to him as ‘Teacher Huang’, yet he never fails to make Mark feel shy with a flash of his smile, the upward curve of his eyes and the way he scrunches his nose up when he laughs. Mark presses the back of his hand against his cheek, and if it wasn’t for the source of the heat emanating off his skin being just a few feet away from him, Mark would’ve thought he was coming down with a fever.
Mark tries to shake the thought of the teacher’s smile away, scrambling to start the car when he notices how late he is for work.