Chapter Text
Damn. It was cold.
Not the kind of cold that just bites at your nose or numbs your fingers, but the kind that seeps into your bones and reminds you that Michigan winters have always been unforgiving. Yunho pressed his forehead against the truck window, watching the yellow-orange glow of streetlights shimmer off fresh snow. Everything was still, eerily so, as if the whole town had paused mid-breath, holding its own little secret.
The back seat of Mingi’s truck felt impossibly snug, cocoon-like. Minseo slept lightly against the side of her car seat, tiny mittened hands curled under her cheeks, chest rising and falling in a rhythm that was almost hypnotic. Yunho found himself slowing his own breathing to match hers, watching her from the front and letting the tension in his shoulders slip away, if only a little.
He glanced over to Mingi then, watching as he nudged the center console up so Yunho could slide closer, to which he quickly unbuckled and did, letting Mingi wrap an arm around him.
The faint scent of leather mixed with Mingi’s cologne wrapped around him like a blanket, and for a moment, he let himself pretend the world outside didn’t exist.
“Hey,” Mingi murmured, thumb brushing against Yunho’s arm. “You okay?”
Yunho exhaled slowly, nuzzling the warmth. “Yeah… mostly.” Mostly wasn’t the whole truth.
“You’ll be alright,” Mingi said softly. “Just try to keep calm.”
The truck turned onto the street where Yunho had grown up. Familiar houses stood dark and still, fall wreaths hanging on doors, lights twinkling softly through frost-kissed windows.
Yunho pressed closer to Mingi, letting the heat seep into him, letting himself be held. He’d imagined this drive countless times leading up to thanksgiving, the neighborhood aglow like something out of a holiday movie, him wrapped in layers while Mingi teased him mercilessly. Reality was… almost exactly that.
Minseo stirred, a soft whimper escaping her lips before she buried herself further in the blanket. Yunho’s chest tightened as he sneaked a look back at her.
Mingi’s thumb traced small circles on Yunho’s arm. “She asleep still?”
“Mhm…out like a light.” Yunho mumbled.
The driveway appeared, leaves crunching under the tires as they parked, the warm glow from the windows spilling outward.
The truck door creaked open, and a small gust of late November air slipped in. Yunho shivered before hopping out and heading to the back seat to collect Minseo from her carrier, Mingi motioning for them to rush inside and get comfortable as he got their luggage and Minseo’s travel crib from the back.
Yunho didn’t need to be told twice, quickly rushing to the front door and using the key under the mat to let himself inside, mindful of his sleeping family as he creeped up to his childhood bedroom and began to settle in for an eventful holiday.
⋆𐙚❅*°
Mingi’s room always felt quieter than the rest of the world, like the walls absorbed sound on purpose, like the house tried to protect him and whoever he let inside it. Maybe that was because it was just him and his dad here; no slamming doors, no overbearing relatives dropping by, no one rearranging things while insisting they were “helping.”
Yunho loved it here.
Loved it more than he would ever admit out loud.
He was lying across Mingi’s chest on the worn couch Mingi kept in his bedroom, the one they’d dragged up from the basement last year. Mingi’s fingers slid lazily up and down his spine, warm and soothing.
Outside, winter tried to claw its way in, rattling the old windowpanes. But inside, the furnace hummed, the air smelled faintly of the meatloaf Mingi’s dad had made earlier, and Mingi’s heartbeat thumped steady under Yunho’s ear.
It should have relaxed him.
But Yunho’s whole body was tight, his face buried in Mingi’s T-shirt.
Mingi knew before he said a single word.
“What’d she do now?” he asked softly, thumb brushing under Yunho’s hoodie.
Yunho inhaled like he needed courage. “My grandparents are visiting this weekend.”
“Oh boy.”
“And my mom wants me,” Yunho said bitterly, “to dress up.”
Mingi’s hand stilled. “Like…?”
Yunho pushed his face harder into Mingi’s chest, muffling himself. “She pulled out this old box, Min. Like—girly clothes. Stuff from when she still thought I was—” He swallowed, the word catching, “—her daughter.”
Mingi’s jaw flexed. “Did you tell her no?”
Yunho let out an ugly laugh. “I said I wasn’t wearing that crap. She said I was disrespecting family tradition. She said grandma likes ‘pretty girls’ at the table.” He made air quotes without lifting his head. “And then she said, ‘You and your boyfriend put us through enough with all this. Can’t you just try for one night?’”
Mingi stiffened instantly. “She brought me into it?”
“She always brings you into it.” Yunho finally looked up, eyes glossy, cheeks red from holding it in. “She thinks you’re the reason I’m… me.”
“That’s insane,” Mingi said, voice low, protective. “You were you before we even met.”
“I know,” Yunho whispered. “But she needs someone to blame. And she won’t blame herself.”
Mingi reached up, cupping Yunho’s cheek gently. “Look at me.”
Yunho did, reluctantly so.
“You’re a boy,” Mingi said, steady as fact. “You’ve always been a boy. Anyone who doesn’t see that is choosing not to.”
Yunho’s breath trembled, but he didn’t look away.
“And you don’t need to pretend to be anything else,” Mingi added. “Not for family. Not for the holidays. Not for anything.”
For a moment, Yunho didn’t speak, he just let out a shuddery breath, curling closer.
Mingi pulled the blanket over both of them.
“Your mom hates me,” Mingi murmured after a moment, not bitterly, just stating it.
“Of course she hates you,” Yunho mumbled into his chest. “You’re the love of my life.”
Mingi choked on air. “Yunho—!”
“It’s true,” Yunho said, voice stubborn. “You’ve been here since I was thirteen. You helped me cut my hair the first time. You went with me to every appointment. You called me ‘he’ even when I wasn’t sure I deserved it yet.” He poked Mingi’s chest. “She sees that. And she hates it.”
Mingi’s eyes softened, all the bluster draining right out of him. “I didn’t do any of that for her.”
“I know,” Yunho whispered. “You did it for me. Because you love me.”
“I do,” Mingi said, like it was the easiest truth in the world.
Yunho exhaled shakily and tucked himself further under Mingi’s arm. “What if I don’t go to that dinner?”
“Then don’t,” Mingi said instantly.
“My mom will lose her mind.”
“Then let her lose it,” Mingi replied, fingers sliding into Yunho’s hair. “You’re allowed to protect yourself, Yun.”
Yunho sighed, his whole body sinking into the warmth beneath him. “Can I stay here instead?”
Mingi kissed the top of his head. “You always can.”
Yunho closed his eyes, finally letting his muscles unclench.
Mingi tightened his hold on him.
For the first time that day, Yunho felt like he could breathe.
And in Mingi’s small, quiet bedroom, far away from lace dresses and disappointed sighs, Yunho knew one thing for certain:
This, this boy, this warmth, this life, was the one he was choosing.
The one he’d always choose.
⋆𐙚❅*°
Yunho blinked awake to the soft, rhythmic sound of Mingi breathing under him.
For a moment, his brain felt scrambled. Old wallpaper, familiar ceiling, the distant hum of the furnace kicking on in the hallway vents. Then the warmth under his cheek shifted, a heavy arm immediately tightening around his waist in reflex, and everything clicked back into place.
Not sixteen anymore.
Not in Mingi’s too-small twin bed in his drafty old house.
He was twenty-something, home for Thanksgiving, in his childhood bedroom still painted a pale yellow his mother had once insisted was “so cheerful for her good girl.” The edges of the posters he had put up in high school curled at the corners, clinging to the walls like ghosts that refused to move on.
And pressed beneath him was the same boy he’d fallen asleep on a thousand times before, only broader now, warmer, a little older, with a heartbeat Yunho could find in his sleep.
At the foot of the bed, in her little gray travel crib, Minseo snuffled softly in her sleep, one tiny fist sticking straight up like she was making a declaration. Five months old and already full of opinions.
Yunho smiled. Couldn’t help it.
They’d gotten in late last night, later than he’d even realized when shuffling up the stairs. Eight hours on I-75, three emergency bottle stops, one meltdown (his, not Minseo’s), and the familiar dread of seeing the “Welcome to Pure Michigan” sign. By the time they’d hauled their bags upstairs and set the crib up, Minseo was still passed out, and Yunho had practically collapsed on top of Mingi…
Which explained why he woke up exactly the way he had fallen asleep: sprawled on Mingi like he was a mattress.
Mingi’s voice came out low, still thick with sleep.
“Morning, babe.”
Yunho hummed and nuzzled closer. “Still alive?”
“Barely,” Mingi whispered dramatically. “Had a dream your mom tried to bake me into a casserole. I feared for my life, it still might happen.”
Yunho snorted into his shirt. “You’re being so brave about it.”
Mingi kissed the top of his head. “Someone has to be.”
He rubbed a slow hand up and down Yunho’s back. Yunho let his eyes close again, letting himself melt a little.
“…How’re you feeling?” Mingi asked quietly.
Yunho hesitated. He had to peel open the truth carefully, like removing a bandage he wasn’t sure he wanted to look under.
“It’s weird,” he said finally. “Being here with her. With you. Feels like I’m… I don’t know. Two people at once.”
Mingi hummed again, the warm, understanding kind. “Well, you’re still the same person to me, if that counts for anything.”
Yunho swallowed. “Yeah.”
They laid there for a moment, listening to the little soft breaths from the crib.
“Hey,” Mingi whispered, shifting just enough to look down at him. “We’re here together. That’s the only part that matters.”
And God, Yunho felt that. Felt it like something gentle knocking around in his ribs.
“I love you,” he mumbled.
Mingi’s mouth curved. “I know. And you know what else?”
“What?”
“I’m gonna go get our daughter the moment she wakes up,” he whispered like a promise. “And I’m gonna smother her with kisses until she screams.”
Yunho laughed into his chest. “She’s gonna scream, alright.”
“From joy,” Mingi corrected confidently.
As if summoned, Minseo made a soft, sleepy chirp, half complaint, half sigh.
Mingi froze. Then whispered, delighted. “She’s awake.”
“No,” Yunho groaned, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. “Stay. She’s gonna want the whole circus if she sees you first.”
“She always wants the circus,” Mingi whispered, already trying to sit up. “I am the circus.”
“Mingi—”
Too late, Mingi was already slipping out from under him, crossing the room with the quiet enthusiasm of a golden retriever unleashed at dawn.
Minseo blinked up at him, eyes huge, hair sticking straight up like a little dandelion.
“Oh my god,” Mingi breathed, hands on his knees as he leaned over the crib. “Look at you. The prettiest baby in Michigan. No—on Earth. No—the universe.”
Minseo blinked again, unimpressed.
Then let out a tiny, gurgling squeal.
Yunho groaned, fond and doomed. “This is how you start every day. Every. Single. Day.”
Mingi scooped her up like she was sacred. “She deserves to wake up adored, just like her papa.”
Minseo immediately grabbed his bottom lip.
“See?” Mingi said, beaming at her. “She loves me.”
“She’s trying to remove your mouth,” Yunho said.
“Out of love.”
Yunho just shook his head, watching the two of them, his giant man swaying gently, his tiny girl tucked against his chest, and felt a warmth in his sternum that no amount of family chaos could shake loose.
“Thanksgiving,” Yunho sighed, sitting up. “Day one.”
Mingi grinned back at him.
“With my favorite people.”
Yunho flopped back down, staring at the ceiling for a bit longer before he was ready to face the day.
When he was ready, he sat back up and watched Mingi.
Mingi was lost, swaying in a slow, sleepy circle with Minseo tucked against his chest, whispering nonsense in the warm, gooey voice he only used with her.
“Ohhh, look at you,” he crooned. “Five months old and ready to destroy Thanksgiving with your cuteness. They won’t stand a chance. I won’t stand a chance. I’m already defeated.”
Minseo answered with a bubbly coo, grabbing a fistful of his T-shirt and drooling triumphantly on it.
“See?” Mingi whispered, eyes sparkling. “Show everyone who’s boss today, Minseo.”
Yunho rolled out of bed with a groan, rubbing his face before padding across the room. His suitcase lay half-open near the closet where he’d abandoned it last night. Clothes were already threatening to burst out of it in that way luggage did when you packed at 3 a.m. with the frantic energy of parents.
He knelt and started rummaging.
“I know I packed it,” Yunho muttered, flipping a hoodie aside. “Your little Thanksgiving onesie. The one with the… pumpkin? No. The turkey? Did we actually pick the turkey?”
Mingi gasped, overly dramatic. “We picked both. Because she deserved options.”
Minseo responded with a delighted squeal that Mingi immediately pretended was agreement rather than random infant noise.
Yunho snorted, fighting with a zipper. “She’s not attending the Met Gala, babe.”
“Bold of you to assume this isn’t her Met Gala,” Mingi countered, bouncing her gently. “Her first Thanksgiving. Her first time being paraded around your family like a tiny celebrity. She’s the moment.”
“She’s five months old.”
“She’s iconic.”
Yunho found one of the onesies and held it up triumphantly. “Aha!”
It was soft cream cotton with a cartoon turkey wearing a pilgrim hat and the words MY FIRST THANKSGIVING in big bubbly letters.
“God,” Yunho muttered, smiling despite himself. “We’re ridiculous.”
“Yes,” Mingi agreed immediately. “We are.”
Yunho tossed it on the bed, then reached for jeans and a sweater, striping off his sleep shirt. Mingi’s eyes flicked over, appreciative in a way that made a slow heat crawl up Yunho’s neck.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Yunho grumbled.
“I’m admiring the father of my child on Thanksgiving morning,” Mingi said sweetly. “Very wholesome activity. That’s what you should be thankful for.”
Yunho rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling as he tugged on his jeans. “You’re lucky she likes you, my mom would throw a fit if Min was screaming her little head off in here.”
“She loves me,” Mingi corrected proudly, shifting Minseo upright so she could look around at the room with bleary confusion. “See? She is staring directly at me in adoration.”
Minseo’s eyes were, in fact, pointed somewhere near Mingi’s chin, crossing slightly.
“I don’t think she can focus yet,” Yunho said.
“Because she’s overwhelmed by love,” Mingi insisted.
Minseo blew a spit bubble.
“Exactly,” Mingi said.
Yunho snorted again, pulling his sweater over his head. He crossed the room and kissed Minseo’s cheek, her skin warm and sweet and sleepy.
“Morning, pumpkin,” he whispered.
Minseo blinked once, then grabbed his nose.
“Ow—okay—gentle—gentle, baby,” Yunho wheezed.
Mingi beamed. “Our daughter is so strong.”
“She’s going to rip my face off.”
“Out of love,” Mingi said cheerfully.
Yunho shoveled the onesie into Mingi’s free hand. “Here, you dress her. You’re clearly the one she respects.”
“She fears my power,” Mingi said solemnly, kissing her tiny forehead. “As all should.”
Yunho laughed, soft and real, and for a moment the old house didn't feel quite so heavy.
“Come on,” he murmured, grabbing his socks and heading toward the dresser for a clean pair. “Let’s get her ready before my mom comes in here and starts commenting on everything from her outfit to her drool to our sleep schedule.”
Mingi gasped, holding Minseo out dramatically.
“She will defend us.”
Minseo hiccuped.
“Ferociously,” Mingi added proudly.
And Yunho, watching the two of them, his future husband being an absolute fool for their daughter, felt something settle inside him. Something warm and steady, something that didn’t belong to this house or his past or his mother’s expectations.
Something he had built.
“Alright,” Yunho said softly. “Let’s go survive Thanksgiving.”
⋆𐙚❅*°
Yunho padded down the hallway, toothbrush in hand, feet remembering exactly where each floorboard creaked. It was muscle memory, unwanted muscle memory. Like the house itself refused to let him forget who he used to be here.
He pushed open the bathroom door.
Same chipped tile. Same faded brown bathmat. Same mirror with a tiny crack in the corner from when his brother had thrown a basketball at him “as a joke.”
And the same two plastic hooks drilled into the wall—one for his towel, one for his brother’s.
His hook still had the old label maker tape on it.
YUNHO
His was only half as faded as his brother’s, considering back when it had been made it had said YUNA.
He stared at it for a long moment, toothbrush frozen midway to his mouth.
The edges of the sticker had been peeled back years ago by him, angry and shaking, three weeks after he came out. He’d scraped the letters off with his fingernail until the adhesive stained the plastic. His mother had replaced it without asking.
It was a rare moment of acceptance during those early years.
Yunho looked away and turned on the faucet.
Just brush your teeth, he told himself. Don’t think. Just… brush your teeth.
He scrubbed mechanically, foam building, the backs of bare ankles heating up from the vent near the floor. He could hear Mingi’s voice faintly down the hall. Soft, playful babytalk, Minseo’s happy squeal following like a second heartbeat.
That helped.
This bathroom wasn’t his life anymore. This house wasn’t his life anymore.
He spit, rinsed, wiped his mouth on a towel that smelled faintly like the laundry detergent his mother swore was “the only one that got real stains out.”
Then he turned off the light and walked toward the staircase, each step waking old echoes.
Come downstairs and be polite.
Fix your hair before Grandma gets here.
Ladies don’t stomp around like that.
Yunho flexed his jaw and kept walking.
He reached the bottom step and inhaled.
The smell hit him first, sage, butter, onions sizzling. His mother’s Thanksgiving prep. She always started before sunrise, humming like she was auditioning for a church choir.
This year was no different.
She was at the stove in an apron, hair done up, earrings already on even though it wasn’t even 8 a.m. yet. She noticed him instantly, turning with a spatula in hand.
“Oh. You’re up,” she said, tone sitting in that careful space between neutral and something sharp. “I thought Mingi got the baby ready because I heard him talking, I figured you were still asleep.”
Yunho resisted the urge to sigh.
“Yeah. She woke up hungry.”
His mother gave a little sniff. “Well. At least someone gets hungry at a reasonable hour.”
He didn’t ask what she meant. There was always a meaning. Always a note tucked under the words, like a passive-aggressive fortune cookie.
Her eyes flicked up and down him. Sweater. Jeans. Hair still messy from sleep.
“When I said you could relax while you’re here,” she added, returning to the stove, “I didn’t mean you should look like you rolled out of a dorm room.”
It was too early for this.
Yunho forced a smile. “Morning, Mom.”
“If you want coffee,” she continued, ignoring that, “you’ll have to wait a few minutes. Your father drank the last of the pot and didn’t bother to make more.”
He nodded. “I can make some.”
“No, it’s fine,” she said, tone making it very clear it was not fine. “I’ll do it. I don’t need the kitchen turning into a mess right before company comes.”
That old feeling crept up Yunho’s spine, the one that made him stand straighter, talk softer, apologize for existing too loudly.
Footsteps sounded upstairs.
Mingi’s warm, low voice.
Minseo chirping.
Yunho’s lungs finally loosened.
He wasn’t alone in this house anymore.
“Mom,” he said quietly, “do you want me to set the table?”
She paused her cooking.
For a second her face softened, the way it did when she forgot to be disappointed in him.
“…Yes,” she admitted. “That would be helpful.”
Yunho nodded and moved toward the cabinet where the plates were kept.
Behind him, he heard his mother click her tongue.
“You know, Yunho—You could have gotten up early to help cook,” she said pointedly. “Now that you have your own baby you’ll be expected to host, although living so far away I suppose you’ve skirted your way out of it.”
There it was.
The first jab of the morning.
Yunho set the plates down carefully, fingers tightening around the stack.
He opened his mouth to answer…
And then Minseo squealed from the top of the stairs, a happy, high-pitched sound that cut through the kitchen like sunlight.
Mingi followed right behind, bouncing her gently as he descended.
And for the first time that morning, Yunho breathed easy.
⋆𐙚❅*°
The backyard looked smaller than Yunho remembered.
It always did when he came home. The fence shorter, the maple tree less towering, the old wooden playset tilting slightly like it was tired from twenty years of Michigan winters.
The air was cold enough that Yunho’s breath puffed white in front of him, but not snowy—Thanksgiving in that strange between-season where the sky threatened flurries but never delivered.
Mingi didn’t seem bothered. He never did. He had Minseo propped in his arms like she weighed nothing, her little knit hat slightly crooked on her head. She kicked her legs enthusiastically, bundled in a puffy coat that made her look like a marshmallow with opinions.
“Look at you,” Mingi cooed, stepping deliberately into a crunchy pile of leaves. “Stomp. Stomp, stomp, stomp. You are the queen of autumn.”
She made a squeal so high-pitched Yunho was convinced it startled a squirrel in the next yard.
“You know she can’t walk,” Yunho reminded him, tugging his jacket tighter around himself.
“She thinks she can.” Mingi grinned over his shoulder. “And I support her dreams.”
He held her under her armpits and “walked” her through another pile of leaves, her little legs stiff and bouncing, her eyes wide with amazement at every crunch.
Yunho leaned on the worn wood railing of the deck, watching them, something warm and aching stretching in his chest.
“You’re ridiculous,” Yunho said.
“I am an excellent father,” Mingi corrected, lifting Minseo closer to kiss her cheek. “And this is father-daughter bonding.”
Minseo grabbed a handful of brown leaves and immediately tried to eat them.
“Nope—nope, okay, bonding time over,” Mingi said quickly, rescuing the leaves from her mouth while she protested loudly.
Yunho laughed. “You let her get too cocky.”
“She has to learn the dangers of nature,” Mingi argued. “Like gravity, or the betrayal of wet leaves—hey, you know what? We should put her on the slide.”
Yunho blinked. “Mingi. She can’t sit up on her own.”
“That’s why you spot her,” Mingi replied, already heading toward the old playset. “This is perfect teamwork.”
Yunho sighed but he followed.
The playset was exactly the same: faded green plastic slide, a little wooden fort, two swings that squeaked even in the wind. He and his brother had fought about those swings. Yunho had taken his first nasty fall off the slide when he was seven.
It was full of memories—some good, some he didn’t dare pick up again.
“Okay,” Mingi said, lowering Minseo at the top of the miniature slide, holding her tiny waist in both hands. “Big girl. Very big. So brave. So aerodynamic.”
“She doesn’t know what those words mean,” Yunho said, stepping up behind him to support her head.
“She feels the vibe,” Mingi said confidently.
Minseo, unaware of her legendary status, kicked her feet in excitement.
Together, Mingi guided her down, more like carried her gently while pretending gravity mattered, and Yunho caught her halfway, lifting her into his chest.
She squealed again, thrilled beyond reason.
Mingi exhaled softly. “See? She loved it.”
“She would love taxes if you held her through them,” Yunho said.
“True.”
They stood there for a moment, Yunho holding their daughter, Mingi standing close enough that his breath warmed Yunho’s cheek, the cold wind rustling the leaf piles around them.
It was quiet. Peaceful. The closest thing to calm Yunho had felt since the day started.
“…So.” Mingi nudged his shoulder lightly. “How are you doing?”
Yunho hesitated, adjusting Minseo against his chest as she gnawed on her mitten.
“I’m… okay,” he said finally. “Better out here.”
“That’s because nobody can ask us if we’re sure we want a winter wedding,” Mingi said.
Yunho winced. “Or if we rushed into it just because we have a baby now.”
“Or if we’re certain the venue won’t ‘feel too cold on the pictures.’” Mingi mimicked Yunho’s mother’s voice, uncannily well.
Yunho groaned. “You’re going to hell for that impression.”
“I’ll be in excellent company,” Mingi said cheerfully.
The humor fizzled into something softer, quieter. Yunho sighed, resting his chin briefly on Minseo’s hat.
“She’s just… being my mom,” he said. “I expected it. I just forgot how much energy it takes to be around her.”
Mingi stepped closer until their shoulders touched.
“You’re doing great.”
Yunho scoffed. “I was ready to cry over a towel label this morning.”
“That towel label sucked,” Mingi said firmly.
Yunho exhaled something that was almost a laugh.
“Thanks.”
They watched as Min-seo babbled happily at absolutely nothing, her mittened hands patting Yunho’s chest in chaotic rhythm.
“She’s doing okay, though,” Yunho murmured. “Mom keeps trying to say she has my… old baby features.”
Mingi softened. “You don’t have to let her say stuff like that if it hurts.”
“She doesn’t mean it the way it sounds,” Yunho said. “She’s stuck in the past. It’s… complicated.”
“So we un-complicate it,” Mingi said simply. “We’re here for a few days. Then we go home. Then we marry each other and live our life.”
Yunho smiled, small but real. “Yeah.”
“And in the meantime…” Mingi reached for Min-seo’s little foot, making her giggle. “We show our daughter the wonders of the Midwest. Like leaves. And slides. And...cheese curds.”
Yunho barked a laugh. “Oh god. Not yet. She'd choke.”
“Oh yes, I forgot,” Mingi whispered dramatically, turning to Minseo. “Soon, baby, once you're bigger.”
Minseo squealed in agreement.
Yunho leaned his shoulder into Mingi’s.
"At least she's having a good time."
“Yeah,” Mingi said softly. “She's having one because of you."
"Is that right?" Yunho hummed, adjusting Minseo in his arms so he could better look at her, cooing at the delighted face she made. “You’re a loud little girl today.”
Minseo squealed again, tiny fists flailing like she was conducting an orchestra.
Mingi leaned in, eyes soft but teasing. “She’s telling you that you’re dramatic.”
Yunho gasped. “Are you calling me dramatic, Minseo?”
Minseo kicked her feet and let out another shriek.
Mingi snorted. “Yeah, that was a yes.”
“Oh, unbelievable.” Yunho pressed a hand to his chest, wounded. “Betrayed. By the very baby I popped out.”
Minseo reached up again, patting at his jaw with uncoordinated enthusiasm. Yunho melted instantly.
“Mhm, that’s what I thought,” he murmured, nuzzling her cheek. “You didn’t mean it.”
“She did,” Mingi said, leaning back and watching them with that fond, quiet smile that always weakened Yunho’s knees. “She said you’re dramatic and clingy.”
“I am not clingy,” Yunho insisted.
Minseo immediately leaned toward Mingi, arms outstretched.
Yunho stared at her. “…You too?”
Mingi held out his hands, wiggling his fingers until Yunho reluctantly passed her over.
The moment Minseo settled into Mingi’s chest, she let out a happy babble and tucked her face under his chin like he was the only person on earth who had ever existed.
“Oh, wow,” Yunho deadpanned. “That’s fine. I’m totally fine. Not jealous at all.”
Mingi laughed, bouncing her lightly. “You want a turn again?”
“No,” Yunho huffed, crossing his arms. “She made her choice.”
But Minseo peeked over Mingi’s shoulder, spotted Yunho, and immediately reached back out toward him insistently, fingers grabbing at the air.
Yunho tried to keep up the sulking for half a second more… but he was already smiling as he stepped forward.
“Yeah, okay,” he murmured, taking her back. “I knew you loved me.”
Mingi raised an eyebrow. “She just likes to keep both of us wrapped around her finger.”
Yunho kissed the top of her head. “Smart girl.”
Yunho barely had time to nuzzle Minseo’s soft hair before the back door cracked open.
“Yunho!! Mingi! Dinner’s ready!” his mother called, her voice bright and practiced, the same tone she used every holiday, every birthday, every gathering she tried to keep perfect.
Yunho startled a little—old instinct—but forced his shoulders to loosen. He glanced at Mingi, who was already watching him with quiet understanding, one brow lifted in silent check-in.
“I’m okay,” Yunho mouthed.
Mingi nodded, stepping close enough that their arms brushed. “We’ll head in,” he called back to Yunho’s mom, voice warm and even.
Yunho shifted Minseo in his hold; she responded by grabbing a fistful of his sweater and squeaking, unconcerned by anything except the new texture in her hand.
“See?” Mingi murmured, leaning in. “She’s got you. I’ve got you.”
Yunho exhaled, soft. “Yeah.”
The backyard felt suddenly colder as they started walking, leaves crunching under their shoes. He’d grown up out here—broken bones, summer nights, scraped knees, chasing his brother through the playset that still stood like a stubborn relic.
Now he was walking back inside with his fiancé and their daughter.
That thought warmed him more than the sun ever could.
Minseo made a pleased little trill as they approached the house, like she somehow knew there would be people and attention and… probably someone trying to pinch her cheeks.
Yunho laughed under his breath. “Okay, baby. Let’s brace ourselves.”
Mingi held the door open for them, nudging Yunho’s arm with a soft smile. “Let’s go survive Thanksgiving.”
⋆𐙚❅*°
Mingi sat close to Yunho at the crowded table once everyone had settled down for dinner, Minseo held snugly against his chest in a soft winter-pattern blanket. She was wide awake, eyes big and curious as she stared at the overhead chandelier. Every few seconds she made a tiny squeaky hum, as if trying to join the conversation.
Yunho brushed his thumb over her small hand. “She’s going to overstimulate herself,” he murmured.
“She loves the light,” Mingi whispered back. “She gets that from you.”
From across the table, Yunho’s mother cleared her throat loudly enough that it startled an uncle two chairs over.
“So,” she began, her voice syrupy and dangerous. “We are… one month away now.” Her smile tightened. “A wedding in December. Right after Christmas. Practically on top of it.”
Yunho internally braced.
“Yes, mom,” Yunho said, already hearing the trap. “We’ve gone over this.”
His mother continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Most people prefer allowing a little distance between major holidays and major events. Time to recover. Time to prepare. But.” She lifted her glass. “I suppose you two are doing… your own style of things.”
Beside Yunho, Mingi inhaled sharply through his nose, a sound Yunho recognized as I am holding onto my manners by a thread.
“We picked the date months ago,” Yunho said politely. “And everyone we love can attend.”
“Mmm.” She dabbed her lips with her napkin in that precise, judgment-loaded way. “Yes. Well. It is what it is.”
Before Yunho could reply, probably with something that would get them kicked out before dessert, his younger brother Gunho piped up from three seats down.
“Yunho, I got into the dual-enrollment program!” he announced, practically glowing. “So next semester I’ll be taking classes at the community college. And when I graduate, I’ll stay there for my associates.”
“Oh, isn't that wonderful?” Yunho’s mother said, full warmth returning to her tone immediately, like flipping a switch. “Staying close to home. Helping the family. Being present. So important.” She shot Yunho a sideways look. “Not everyone has to run off across the country the moment they turn eighteen.”
Yunho’s fork stilled. “Mom…”
She waved a dismissive hand. “You made your choices. I only mean — it’s nice when children think about proximity. About family.”
Mingi felt Yunho’s knee bump against his under the table, his body rigid and tense. So he shifted Minseo to one arm and nudged Yunho’s hand with his free one, threading their fingers together where no one could see.
Min-seo let out a delighted babble, kicking her tiny socks against Mingi’s stomach.
“Oh, she’s awake, awake,” Yunho said, his tone softening instantly as he tapped the tip of her nose.
“She’s been awake,” Mingi replied. “She’s just being quite polite.”
“More polite than some people at this table,” Yunho muttered.
Mingi stifled a laugh.
Across from them, Yunho’s mother’s gaze flickered between them and their daughter, her expression unreadable but full of thoughts she wasn’t voicing. Yet.
“Anyway,” Yunho said suddenly, far too brightly. “Dessert? Are we doing pie now or later?”
“Later,” an aunt called from the kitchen. “The pecan needs another ten minutes.”
“Thank God,” Mingi muttered.
Yunho smiled, feeling the tension unwind the slightest bit — the way it always did when he and Mingi were linked like this, fingers twined, baby warm against their laps, the din of family chaos swirling around them but never quite able to break their circle.
“One month,” Mingi whispered to him, leaning close. “Just one more month, and we’re starting fresh. Our way.”
Yunho squeezed his hand. “Yeah. And at least next Christmas we’ll be married. They can’t complain about the timing then.”
Mingi snorted. “Oh, they’ll find something.” He pressed a kiss to Minseo’s head. “But they can’t touch this.”
And they really couldn’t — not this tiny family, warm and whole, sitting together in the middle of all the noise.
⋆𐙚❅*°
On the bed between them sat a neatly folded stack of pastel baby clothes.
They looked impossibly tiny. Soft-threaded dresses, old cotton leggings, knit sweaters with little flowers across the sleeves. Yunho had been avoiding looking at them since his mother had handed him the bin earlier, announcing:
“These were yours when you were Minseo’s age. Go through them, see if anything still feels… nice.”
Her tone had carried the noticeable implication:
If you’re raising a daughter, shouldn’t she wear her mother’s things?
Except Yunho wasn’t her mother.
And these clothes weren’t from a little girl, they were from a baby who would grow into a boy no one expected.
Now, sitting on the bed, they felt heavier than fabric should.
Mingi didn’t seem to notice the weight at first; he was too distracted with Min-seo, propped up on his lap, babbling sleepily after her last bottle. Mingi was grinning, kissing her cheeks, brushing his nose against hers until she squealed.
“You are so cute,” he murmured, voice soft with absolute adoration. “Why are you so cute? Huh? Did you get it from me? Did you get all your looks from daddy?”
Minseo screeched happily and grabbed a fistful of his shirt.
Yunho couldn’t help smiling at them. Mingi’s face was flushed pink from playing, his hair messy from where Minseo kept tugging on it. He looked like he could sit there making faces at their daughter for the rest of eternity.
“You’re obsessed with her,” Yunho said fondly.
“Of course I’m obsessed,” Mingi said proudly. “Look at her.” He lifted her up above him and Minseo spread her arms into a starfish shape, cooing down at him like she was the sun and he was the one orbiting. “She’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
Yunho felt warmth pool in his chest. He loved watching them like this, loved how Mingi softened, how he was gentle in places he didn’t let the rest of the world see.
Mingi finally looked over at the pile of baby clothes and his expression shifted slightly. “Is this the stuff your mom gave us?”
“Yeah.” Yunho sighed, picking up a tiny pink dress with fading lace trim. “She said Minseo might want to wear some of my… old things.”
Mingi blinked. “You wore this?”
“Apparently,” Yunho muttered. “I don’t remember. I was a baby. But she kept all of it. In perfect condition, too.”
Mingi leaned closer, his knee brushing Yunho’s. “How are you feeling about it?”
Yunho considered.
“It’s weird,” he said finally. “Not… bad. Just… strange. Like she keeps trying to connect me to someone I never was. Someone she thought I’d grow into. And now she has Minseo, and I think she’s projecting some of that onto her too.”
Mingi nodded slowly, adjusting Minseo so she could sit upright against his chest. She immediately grabbed his necklace and stuffed it in her mouth.
“But you don’t have to keep any of these,” Mingi said quietly. “We don’t have to take them. Minseo doesn’t need them. She has her own things.”
Yunho ran his fingers along the little fabric flower on the dress. “I know. But… some of it is kind of sweet.” He picked up a tiny yellow sweater with embroidered ducks. “This one’s actually cute.”
Mingi smiled. “That one she could wear. Gender-neutral ducks”
Yunho laughed. “Yeah. Plus, maybe she’ll actually enjoy some of this girly stuff too.”
He set aside a few things — the duck sweater, a soft teal onesie, and a cream cardigan with wooden buttons along with a few footie pajamas and little dresses, the less garish of the few. The rest he folded gently back into the bin.
Mingi watched him, eyes soft but serious. “Your mom being… like this, is it getting to you?”
Yunho leaned back on his hands, exhaling. “A little. She’s not trying to be cruel. I know that. She just… she still talks like she lost a daughter.” His voice wavered, only slightly. “And I don’t like thinking she sees me that way. Or that she sees Minseo as some kind of replacement.”
Mingi’s hand found his thigh, rubbing up and down the length of it. “She’ll come around more,” he said, steady. “She already tries. Even if she’s clumsy about it. You know I hate playing devil’s advocate for her.”
“Yeah,” Yunho whispered. “I know.”
Minseo sighed dramatically, then flopped sideways into Mingi’s chest, smushing her cheek there.
Mingi melted. “Oh my god,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “She’s so tired. Baby girl, are you fallin’ asleep on Daddy? Huh? You’re gonna knock me out with all this cuteness—you know that?”
Yunho felt himself soften entirely. “She loves you.”
“She’d better,” Mingi replied, holding her close with one massive arm. “I’m wrapped around her little fingers. All of them.”
Yunho scooted closer, resting his head on Mingi’s shoulder, watching their daughter blink slowly like a tiny, exhausted puppy.
“This trip…” Yunho murmured. “It’s been a lot. But this—” he nudged Minseo’s blanket with his knuckles, “—this makes it easier.”
Mingi kissed Yunho’s head. “We’re starting our own family. Our own traditions. Your mom and her shitty attitude and lace dresses can’t ruin that.”
Yunho snorted. “God, don’t let her hear you talk about it like that.”
Mingi grinned. “Why? She’ll put me in a dress next? Bet I’d rock it.”
Yunho burst into laughter, loud enough that Minseo startled with her arms flailing and both of them hurried to soothe her, kissing her cheeks and whispering reassurance.
She settled quickly, nestling deeper into Mingi’s chest.
Yunho brushed a fingertip along her tiny eyebrow and whispered, “She certainly has your personality.”
“And my face,” Mingi said proudly.
They smiled at each other, warm and soft in the dim bedroom light surrounded by the remnants of a past Yunho had long outgrown, holding the future they’d built together.
“Here, give her to me.” Yunho said, holding his arms open for Mingi to slot the girl into them.
Mingi carefully lifted Minseo from his chest and settled her into Yunho’s waiting arms. She squirmed slightly at first, then relaxed when Yunho began rocking her gently.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” Yunho murmured softly, brushing a stray hair from her forehead. “Papa’s got you. It’s okay, you don’t need to do anything but be adorable.” He tilted her chin up with a fingertip, studying her tiny face. “Look at those eyes…look at you. You’re perfect, you know that?”
Minseo let out a small yawn, curling her little fingers around Yunho’s thumb. Yunho smiled down at her, voice low and affectionate. “Mm…you got my stubbornness and your daddy’s patience. Not an easy mix, huh?” He chuckled quietly. “Don’t worry, baby, we’ll make it work.”
He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, inhaling her faint, milky scent. “Daddy loves you so much, Minseo. You make everything… brighter.”
Mingi watched from the side, smiling fondly, hands resting lightly on Yunho’s shoulder. “She knows she’s loved,” he murmured. “By both of us. Every single day.”
Yunho hummed, continuing to rock her gently, whispering little nonsense words to make her giggle. “Yeah…Daddy’s here. We’ll always be here for you, little star.”
Minseo’s eyes blinked slowly, heavy with sleep, and she nuzzled Yunho’s chest, letting out a tiny sigh of contentment. Yunho pressed another soft kiss to her temple, feeling an almost overwhelming tenderness. “Sleep now, baby girl. Dream of fun things, okay? Daddy’s not going anywhere.”
Mingi leaned in, brushing Yunho’s hair back and pressing a light kiss to his temple. “She’s lucky to have you,” he said softly. “We’re lucky. All of us.”
Yunho smiled down at Minseo, then over at Mingi. “Yeah…we really are.”