Archive of Our Own

Minho gets the call during his lunch break.

He’s in the middle of reviewing a document when his phone buzzes and he already knows before he picks up. Schools never call with good news.

“Mr. Lee? This is Principal Kim from Sunshine Elementary. There’s been an incident involving Lily. It’s nothing serious but we need you to come in.”

Twenty minutes later, he walks into the office to find another parent already there—a man around his age, slouched in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs schools never seem to replace. He’s wearing a creased shirt with his hair falling into his face, like he’d rushed out the door without stopping to fix anything.

The man looks up when Minho enters and there’s something immediately guarded in his expression.

“Mr. Lee, thank you for coming.” Principal Kim gestures to the empty chair. “This is Mr. Han, Junho’s father.”

Minho sits, leaving one chair between them. He nods politely. The other man doesn’t nod back.

“So,” Principal Kim folds her hands on her desk. “Both children are fine, physically. But we did have an altercation during free time today.”

“What happened?” Minho asks.

“Junho took Lily’s sketchbook,” Principal Kim says carefully. “She asked for it back. He didn’t return it right away. Things escalated.”

“Escalated how?”

The man—Jisung—shifts in his seat. “She pushed him into a bookshelf.”

Minho turns to look at him properly for the first time. “After he took her things.”

“He’s five. He wanted to look at her drawings.”

“Then he should have asked first.”

“Maybe your kid should learn that pushing people isn’t okay.”

“Maybe yours should learn that no means no.”

“Gentlemen.” Principal Kim’s voice cuts through, tired but firm. “We’re not doing this. Both children made mistakes. That’s why you’re both here.”

Minho leans back in his chair, his mouth drawn tight. One seat away, Jisung stares at the wall, arms crossed across his chest, like he’s holding something in.

Principal Kim explains the rest: the push, the shove back, the scraped knee and bruised elbow. The way both kids are sitting in the counselor’s office right now, refusing to say sorry.

“Here’s what I’d like to suggest,” she says. “A supervised playdate. It will give them a chance to work this out in a less structured environment.”

Minho opens his mouth to say no.

“Not happening,” Jisung says first.

“I understand this isn’t ideal.” Principal Kim looks between them. “But they’re in the same class until next year. we can’t have them at odds for that long.”

Silence settles over the room. Minho thinks of Lily that morning—how quiet she’d been at breakfast, the way she’d packed her sketchbook with careful hands, smoothing the pages before closing her bag. He exhales slowly, already knowing the answer, even if he doesn’t like it.

“One time,” he finally says. “One playdate.”

Jisung lets out a breath that might be a laugh or might be resignation. “Fine. One.”

~

Lily doesn’t say anything until they’re almost home.

She’s in the backseat, staring out the window and Minho keeps glancing at her in the rearview mirror. Her hair is coming loose from its braid. 

“Dad?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Am I in trouble?”

Minho merges onto their street. “What do you think?”

She’s quiet for a moment. “I shouldn’t have pushed him.”

“No. You shouldn’t have.”

“But he took my sketchbook. I told him not to.”

“I know.”

“So he was wrong too.”

“He was.” Minho pulls into their driveway and turns off the engine. He twists in his seat to look at her. “You were both wrong. That’s why you both have to make it right.”

Lily picks at her seatbelt. “His dad was really mad at you.”

Minho blinks. “What makes you say that?”

“I saw him. When Mrs. Kim brought us back from the counselor’s office…he looked at you like he didn’t like you.”

Despite everything, Minho almost smiles.

“Are you mad at him?”

“I don’t know him well enough to be mad at him.”

“But you didn’t like him.”

Minho unbuckles his seatbelt. “Come on. Let’s get you some lunch.”

Inside, he makes grilled cheese while Lily sits at the kitchen table and draws. She’s always drawing. Horses, mostly. Sometimes flowers. Once, a few months after her mother died, she’d drawn their family as cats—three of them curled together in a basket. Then she’d carefully erased one.

Minho had found the drawing in the bin and hadn’t known what to do with the feeling in his chest.

“You’re going to have a playdate with Junho,” he says, setting her plate down. “Just the two of you. So you can apologize properly.”

Lily makes a face. “Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

“What if he’s mean?”

“Then you’ll still be kind.”

~

Jisung is feeding Junho some kids meal from a fast food chain because he forgot to go grocery shopping and they’re out of everything except cereal and a questionable container of yogurt. Junho doesn’t complain. He never does. Sometimes Jisung wishes he would.

“So,” Jisung says, watching his son dunk a chicken nugget in an alarming amount of ketchup. “Want to walk me through what happened?”

Junho chews slowly. “I already told you.”

“Tell me again.”

“She brought her sketchbook and the drawings were really cool. I wanted to see them better.”

“Did you ask?”

Junho doesn’t answer.

“Junho.”

“She said no. But I just wanted to look. I wasn’t going to tear it or anything.”

Jisung rubs a hand over his face. “Bubba, when someone says no, that’s the end of it. You don’t get to take their stuff.”

“But…”

“No buts. You messed up.”

Junho’s face does that thing where it crumples just slightly, like he’s fighting tears but won’t let them come. He’s looked like that more often lately. Since the divorce became official. Since his mom moved across town and started missing weekends.

“Am I in big trouble?” Junho asks quietly.

“You’re in some trouble. But nothing we can’t fix.” Jisung reaches over and squeezes his shoulder. “You’re going to apologize to Lily. And you’re going to have a playdate with her.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yeah.”

“Her dad doesn’t like you.”

Jisung stops midway as he is reaching for a fry. “What?”

“When I saw you guys in the office. He looked at you like… I don’t know. Like you were annoying.”

“Well,” Jisung says, “he’s probably right.”

Junho giggles. “Are you going to be there? At the playdate?”

“Yeah. Me and him both. Supervised, remember?”

“Is he mean?”

Jisung keeps picturing Minho sitting on that plastic chair—perfectly poised and completely in control. He had looked at Jisung with a coldness that made him feel like dirt under someone's fingernail.

“No,” Jisung says. “He’s not mean. He’s just… different.”

“Different how?”

“Different like we’re going to have exactly one playdate and then never talk to him again.”

Junho nods like this makes perfect sense. He goes back to his nuggets.

One playdate. That’s it. Then they can go back to avoiding the Lees entirely.

How hard could it be?

~

The playdate gets scheduled for Saturday afternoon at a park near the school. Minho suggests it in an email that’s so formal Jisung reads it twice to make sure it’s not a work document that got sent to him by mistake.

Dear Mr. Han,

Per Principal Kim’s request, I propose we meet at Riverside Park this Saturday at 2 PM. The playground area should provide adequate supervision while allowing the children space to interact. Please let me know if this works with your schedule.

Regards,

Lee Minho

Jisung writes back: sure. see you then.

He doesn’t get a response.

~

Saturday comes too fast. Jisung wakes up to Junho standing beside his bed, already dressed with his backpack on.

“It’s nine in the morning,” Jisung mumbles.

“I know. I’m ready.”

“The playdate isn’t until two.”

“I know. But what if we’re late?”

Jisung looks at his son—at the anxious twist of his mouth, the way he’s gripping his backpack straps. 

“Hey. Come here.”

Junho climbs onto the bed and Jisung wraps an arm around him.

“You know this isn’t a test, right? You just have to say sorry and try to be nice. That’s it.”

“What if she’s still mad?”

“Then she’s still mad. You still have to try.”

Junho nods against his shoulder. He smells like the bubblegum toothpaste he uses too much of.

They get to the park at 1:55. Minho and Lily are already there.

Of course they are.

Minho is sitting on a bench near the playground and Lily is beside him, swinging her legs. She’s wearing a yellow dress and her hair is in two perfect braids. Minho is in dark jeans and a sweater that probably costs more than Jisung’s rent. He looks up when they approach and his expression doesn’t change.

“Mr. Han,” he says.

“Mr. Lee,” Jisung echoes and it sounds ridiculous. “You can just call me Jisung.”

“Minho.” He nods once.

The kids stare at each other. Junho shuffles closer to Jisung. Lily stays perfectly still.

“So,” Jisung says. “Should we…?”

“Lily.” Minho’s voice is gentle. “Do you have something you want to say?”

Lily slides off the bench. She walks over to Junho, stops about two feet away and folds her hands in front of her.

“I’m sorry I pushed you,” she says. Her voice is clear and serious. “I was upset but I shouldn’t have done that. It was wrong.”

Junho looks at Jisung. Jisung nods.

“I’m sorry I took your sketchbook,” Junho says. “I should’ve asked first. And I’m sorry I didn’t give it back when you said so.”

Silence. Then Lily says, “Do you actually like drawing? Or were you just being nosy?”

“I actually like it. I’m not very good though.”

“I could show you some stuff. If you want.”

Junho’s face brightens. “Really?”

“Yeah. I have my sketchbook in my dad’s bag.”

Just like that, they’re walking towards the playground together and Jisung is standing next to Minho in the worst silence he’s experienced in months.

“Well,” Jisung says. “That was easier than I thought.”

“Yes.”

More silence. Minho sits back down on the bench. After a moment, Jisung sits too, leaving space between them.

They watch the kids. Lily is showing Junho something in her sketchbook, pointing at the pages. Junho is nodding enthusiastically.

“She’s really talented,” Jisung offers.

“Thank you.”

“Does she take lessons or anything?”

“No. She just draws.”

“Junho’s obsessed with Ironman. He makes me watch the movies every weekend.”

Minho nods but doesn’t respond.

Jisung tries again. “So, uh, what do you do? For work?”

“I am a criminal defense lawyer.”

“Oh. That sounds… complicated.”

“It is.”

This is painful. Jisung gives up and pulls out his phone. Beside him, Minho sits with perfect posture, watching the children with the kind of focus that seems excessive for a playground.

Ten minutes pass. Then twenty. The kids are playing some kind of game that involves a lot of running and pointing. They’re not exactly friends but they’re not enemies either.

“Junho seems energetic,” Minho says suddenly.

Jisung looks up. “Yeah. He doesn’t really have an off switch.”

“Lily’s the opposite. Sometimes I worry she’s too serious.”

It’s the most human thing Minho has said and Jisung doesn’t know what to do with it.

“How old is she?” he asks.

“She just turned six last week.”

“Junho’s birthday is in September. So they’re basically the same age.”

“Yes.”

Another silence passes between them but this one is slightly less awful.

“Dad!” Lily comes running over, Junho trailing behind her. “Can we get ice cream? 

Please? Junho’s never tried the place on Fifth Avenue.”

Minho glances at Jisung. “We don’t have to..”

“Ice cream sounds good,” Jisung says, because Junho is looking at him with those hopeful eyes and he’s tired of sitting on this bench.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Unless you have somewhere to be?”

Minho hesitates for a moment but then shakes his head. “No. Ice cream is fine.”

~

The ice cream shop is small and crowded and they end up at a table meant for two people, not four. Junho gets chocolate. Lily gets strawberry. Minho orders vanilla with the kind of politeness that makes the teenager behind the counter blush. Jisung gets mint choco chip and tries not to think about how weird this is.

“Did you know,” Junho says through a mouthful of chocolate, “that Ironman’s suit has, like, fifty different versions?”

Lily wrinkles her nose. “That seems excessive.”

“It’s not excessive, it’s cool.”

“I think it’s silly. Why can’t he just pick one?”

“Because different suits do different things!”

Minho eats his ice cream with a spoon, carefully. Jisung is already halfway through his cone.

“So,” Jisung says, because someone has to fill the silence. “Criminal defense. Do you like it?”

“It’s stable.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Minho pauses. “It’s fine. It allows me to provide for Lily. That’s what matters.”

“Right. But do you like it?”

“Does anyone really like their job?”

“I do. Most days, anyway.”

“What do you do?”

“Freelance graphic design. It’s chaotic and the pay is unpredictable, but yeah, I like it.”

Minho nods slowly and Jisung can’t tell if he’s judging him or just processing.

“Dad, can we go to the park again next weekend?” Lily asks suddenly.

Minho blinks. “With Junho?”

“Yeah. We didn’t finish our drawing game.”

Junho perks up. “Can we, Dad? Please?”

Jisung looks at Minho. Minho looks back. There’s something unreadable in his expression.

“We’ll see,” Minho says.

“That’s adult for no,” Lily tells Junho matter-of-factly.

“Not necessarily,” Minho corrects. “It means we’ll discuss it.”

“With Junho’s dad?”

“Yes.”

Both kids turn to look at Jisung expectantly.

“Sure,” Jisung hears himself say. “Why not?”

Minho’s expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in his eyes. Surprise, maybe.

They finish their ice cream. The kids run ahead on the walk back to the parking lot while Jisung and Minho trail behind.

“You don’t have to,” Minho says quietly. “If you’d rather not.”

“It’s fine. They seem to get along now.”

“Yes.”

“Besides, Principal Kim will probably check in. Might as well make it look good.”

“Right.”

They reach their cars. Minho’s is exactly what Jisung expected—a spotless sleek silver sedan. Jisung’s is a seven-year-old hatchback with a cracked bumper sticker.

“Next Saturday then?” Jisung asks.

“Yes. Same time?”

“Works for me.”

Minho nods. He opens his car door, then pauses. “Thank you. For today.”

“Yeah. You too.”

It’s awkward. Everything about this is awkward. But Junho is smiling when he gets in the car and that’s worth something.

“Dad?” Junho says as they’re pulling out of the parking lot.

“Yeah?”

“Lily’s actually pretty cool.”

Jisung glances in the rearview mirror. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. She’s teaching me how to draw horses next week.”

“That’s nice, bubba.”

“Her dad’s kind of weird though.”

Jisung snorts. “Yeah. He really is.”

But as they drive home, Jisung thinks about the way Minho had said thank you—soft and genuine, like he wasn’t used to saying it. He thinks about the careful way he’d watched Lily, the brief flicker of surprise when Jisung agreed to another playdate.

Maybe weird isn’t the right word.

Maybe lonely is closer.

~ 

The second playdate happens, and then a third.

It stops being about the kids apologizing and starts being about the fact that Lily and Junho actually like each other. They’re an odd pair—Lily with her quiet seriousness, Junho with his endless energy—but somehow it works. She teaches him how to shade drawings. He teaches her about superheroes. They build elaborate games that don’t make sense to anyone but them.

And Minho and Jisung keep showing up, keep sitting on park benches or at coffee shop tables, trying to figure out how to talk to each other.

It doesn’t get easier.

“Do you always plan everything this far in advance?” Jisung asks one Saturday, watching Minho pull out an actual printed schedule for Lily’s week.

“It helps her feel secure. Routine is important.”

“Right. Junho’s routine is chaos and whatever happens, happens.”

Minho glances at him. “That’s not a routine.”

“Works for us.”

“Does it?”

Jisung bristles. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

But Jisung can’t forget it. It sits under his skin for the rest of the afternoon, sharp and irritating. When they’re leaving, he says, “You know, not everyone can be perfect like you.”

Minho stops walking. “Perfect?”

“Yeah. Perfect schedule, perfect kid, perfect life. Must be nice.”

Something flashes across Minho’s face—something raw and almost angry. “You don’t know anything about my life.”

“Because you don’t tell me anything. You just sit there like a statue and judge everyone else.”

“I’m not judging you.”

“Really? Because it sure feels like it.”

They’re standing in the parking lot now and the kids are ahead, out of earshot. Minho’s hands are clenched at his sides.

“My wife died three years ago,” Minho says flatly. “Lily barely remembers her. I work too much and I’m always tired. If that’s perfect to you, we’re not talking about the same thing.”

Jisung feels like he’s been slapped.

“I didn’t..I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t. Because we’re not friends. We’re just two people stuck in the same situation.”

Minho walks to his car without looking back. Lily waves goodbye to Jisung. Jisung waves back automatically but his chest feels tight.

In the car, Junho asks, “Is Mr. Lee mad at you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Did you say something mean?”

“Yeah. I think I did.”

~

Jisung doesn’t sleep well that night. He keeps thinking about the look on Minho’s face. He thinks about all the times he’d assumed Minho was cold, when really he was just tired. Just grieving.

On Monday, he texts: I’m sorry about Saturday. I was out of line.

Minho doesn’t respond until Tuesday night: It’s fine.

It’s not fine but Jisung doesn’t know how to fix it.

The next Saturday, Minho doesn’t show up to the park. Lily comes with someone else—an older woman who introduces herself as Lily’s grandmother. 

“Minho had to work,” she explains. “Last-minute client emergency.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Lily and Junho run off to play. Lily’s grandmother sits on the bench and pulls out a book. Jisung sits beside her and feels the absence of Minho like a missing tooth—something you can’t stop pressing on even though it hurts.

~

A week passes. Then two. The kids still have playdates, but Minho stops coming. Lily is always accompanied by her grandma. Jisung tells himself it’s fine. This is easier, actually. No more awkward silences. No more feeling like he’s saying the wrong thing.

But Junho asks about it.

“Why doesn’t Lily’s dad come anymore?”

“He’s busy with work.”

“Is he still mad at you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then why doesn’t he come?”

Jisung doesn’t have an answer.

~

It’s Lily who changes things, but not in the way Jisung expects.

Five weeks after the fight, she shows up at the park and doesn’t run off to play with Junho like usual. She just stands there, picking at the strap of her backpack.

“Hi Lily,” Jisung says. “Junho’s already at the swings.”

“I know.” She doesn’t move.

“You okay?”

She nods. Then shakes her head. Then shrugs.

Jisung crouches down. “What’s going on?”

“My dad didn’t eat breakfast this morning.”

“Oh. Maybe he wasn’t hungry?”

“He’s never hungry anymore.” She’s still picking at the strap. “And he fell asleep at his desk again last night. I had to wake him up.”

Jisung doesn’t know what to say to that. Her grandmother is slowly walking over now. 

“And yesterday I showed him my drawing and he said it was nice but he didn’t really look at it. He always looks at my drawings.”

“Did you two have a fight?” She finally looks up at him. “Like me and Junho did?”

“Sort of. Yeah.”

“Did you say sorry?”

“I did.”

“Then why doesn’t he come anymore?”

Jisung’s throat feels tight. “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

“Junho misses him. He told me.” She pauses. “I think you miss him too.”

Before Jisung can respond, she runs off toward the playground.

Her grandmother places a hand on Jisung’s shoulder, hoping to provide some semblance of comfort.

“She’s been like that all week,” she says. “Watching him. She asked me last night if people can be sad for a really long time.”

“What did you tell her?”

“The truth. That sometimes they can.Minho doesn’t think she notices. But she’s her mother’s daughter. She notices everything.”

Jisung watches Lily push Junho on the swings. She’s not smiling.

“Is he okay?” Jisung asks. “Really?”

“He’s tired. He works too much. And he….” She stops. “He doesn’t let people in. It’s been that way since we lost my daughter. He takes care of Lily, he goes to work, he comes home. That’s it.”

“That sounds lonely.”

“It is.” She looks at Jisung. “You’re the first person he’s talked to in years. Outside of work and family, I mean.”

“We barely talk.”

“That’s more than he does with anyone else.” She stands up slowly. “I don’t know what happened between you two. But whatever it was, it rattled him. He doesn’t get rattled.”

Jisung stays seated long after she leaves, thinking about Minho dozing at his desk, Lily noticing her father hadn’t eaten and the quiet moments that made him seem more human than Jisung had expected.

~

On Monday, Jisung finds Minho’s office address through the school directory. He probably shouldn’t use it like this, but he’s already done everything wrong, so what’s one more boundary crossed?

The law firm is downtown and Jisung feels underdressed in his hoodie and jeans. The receptionist eyes him skeptically.

“I’m here to see Lee Minho.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but…”

“Mr. Lee doesn’t take walk-ins.”

“Can you just tell him Jisung is here? He’ll know who I am.”

She looks doubtful but picks up the phone. After a brief conversation, she hangs up and points to the elevators. “Seventh floor. He’ll meet you in the lobby.”

Jisung’s hands are sweating in the elevator. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say. He just knows he needs to say something.

The elevator doors open. Minho is standing there, and he looks…off. His tie is loosened. There’s a coffee stain on his collar. His hair isn’t as neat as usual.

“Jisung? What are you doing here?”

“Can we talk?”

“I’m in the middle of something.”

“I know. I’m sorry. This won’t take long.”

Minho glances back toward the office, then at Jisung. His jaw tightens. “Five minutes.”

They end up in a small break room. Minho leans against the counter with his arms crossed. He doesn’t look angry, just exhausted.

“What is it?”

Now that Jisung is here, the words feel stuck. He shoves his hands in his pockets. 

“Lily came to talk to me. On Saturday.”

Minho straightens slightly. “What did she say?”

“She said you’ve been sad.”

Minho looks away. “She shouldn’t have done that.”

“She’s worried about you.”

“She’s six. She doesn’t need to worry about me.”

“Well, she does anyway.” Jisung shifts his weight. “Look, I know I messed up at the park. What I said about your life being perfect..that was stupid. I didn’t know about your wife and even if I didn’t, it was still a shitty thing to say.”

“You apologized already.”

“Yeah, but you disappeared.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Have you?”

Minho’s fingers dig into his arms. “What do you want me to say, Jisung?”

“I don’t know. Anything. You just..you shut me out.”

“We’re not..”Minho stops and then starts again. “We don’t owe each other anything.”

“I know that.”

“Then why are you here?”

Jisung doesn’t have a good answer. He looks at Minho and sees the shadows under his eyes, the tension in his shoulders, the way he’s holding himself together with sheer will.

“Because the playdates are weird without you,” Jisung finally says. “And Junho keeps asking where you are. And I guess I just..I miss having someone to sit with who gets it.”

“Gets what?”

“How hard this is. The single parent thing. Everyone else has advice or opinions or they look at you like you’re doing it wrong. But you never did that.”

Minho’s expression flickers. “You think I don’t judge you?”

“I know you do. But not about that.”

 Minho lets out a breath that might be a laugh. “I judge you for letting Junho eat fast food three times a week.”

“See? That’s valid.” Jisung takes a step closer. “I’m not asking to be your best friend or whatever. I just..can we go back to how it was? Before I said that stupid thing?”

Minho is quiet. He picks at a thread on his sleeve.

“Saturday,” Jisung tries. “Same time. Will you come?”

Minho looks at him for a long moment. “I don’t know.”

“Okay. But if you do… I’ll be there.”

“Okay.”

It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no either.

Jisung leaves feeling like he’s said everything and nothing at all.

~

Saturday comes and Jisung doesn’t know if Minho will show up.

He gets to the park early, which never happens. Junho is confused.

“Why are we here so soon?”

“No reason. Thought we’d beat the crowd.”

“There’s never a crowd, Dad.”

Jisung doesn’t have a response to that.

They wait on the bench. Two o’clock comes and goes. Jisung tells himself it’s fine. He expected this. Minho said he didn’t know if he’d come, and clearly he’s not..

“Dad, you’re walking too fast.”

Jisung’s head snaps up. Minho is coming down the path, Lily fully jogging to keep up with him.His hair is slightly messy, like he didn’t have time to fix it.

“Sorry we’re late,” Minho says, not quite meeting Jisung’s eyes. “Couldn’t find parking.”

“It’s fine. We just got here too.”

It’s a lie and they both know it.

Lily and Junho run off immediately and then it’s just the two of them standing there. 

Minho sits on the bench. Jisung sits too, leaving less space between them than usual.

“I’m glad you came,” Jisung says.

Minho nods. “Lily wanted to.”

“Right. Of course.”

Silence settles between them.They watch the kids climb on the jungle gym. Jisung pulls out his phone to check the time and a granola bar wrapper falls out of his pocket.

Minho stares at it. “Did you eat lunch?”

“What?”

“Before you came here, did you eat lunch?”

Jisung picks up the wrapper. “I had this.”

“A granola bar.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s not lunch.”

“It’s fine. I wasn’t that hungry.”

Minho turns to look at him fully. “When was the last time you had an actual meal?”

“I don’t know. Breakfast?”

“What did you have for breakfast?”

“Coffee.”

“Coffee isn’t food.”

Minho’s expression does something between exasperated and concerned. “You can’t just..Jisung, you need to eat.”

“I do eat. Just not on a schedule like some people.” Jisung means it as a joke but Minho doesn’t smile.

“That’s not funny. What if you passed out? What would Junho do?”

“I’m not going to pass out from skipping lunch.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Minho, it’s really not a big deal..”

“It is a big deal. You’re a single parent. You don’t get to skip meals and run on caffeine and just hope everything works out.”

There’s real heat in Minho’s voice now and Jisung should probably be annoyed. He’s a grown adult. He doesn’t need a lecture about eating lunch.

But instead, he feels something warm settle in his chest.

“Are you mad at me?” he asks.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Minho pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m frustrated.”

“What are you frustrated about?”

“You don’t take care of yourself.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough. Your shoelace is untied again. Your jacket has a stain on it. You look like you haven’t slept properly in days.”

Jisung glances down. His shoelace is, in fact, untied. “How do you notice these things?”

“Because I’m looking.”

The words hang between them. Jisung doesn’t know what to do with them.

“Why do you care if I eat lunch?” he finally asks.

Minho is quiet for a moment. “I don’t know. I just do.”

Something flutters in Jisung’s stomach. He bends down to tie his shoe, needing something to do with his hands. When he straightens up, Minho is still watching him.

“There,” Jisung says. “Happy?”

“Barely.”

“What else am I doing wrong, then?”

“Do you actually want to know?”

“Sure. Why not.”

Minho adjusts his position on the bench. “You drink too much coffee and not enough water. Your phone case is cracked which is a safety hazard. You never zip your jacket all the way up. And you let Junho run around without checking if his shoes are tied properly.”

“His shoes are fine.”

As if on cue, Junho trips slightly on the playground. He catches himself, completely unbothered, but Minho raises an eyebrow at Jisung.

“That doesn’t count,” Jisung mutters.

“It absolutely counts.”

“You’re very bossy, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Lily tells me daily.”

“Smart kid.”

Minho’s mouth twitches. “She gets it from her mother.”

It’s the first time Minho has mentioned his wife without that careful blankness in his voice. Jisung doesn’t push it.

“So what do you want me to do?” Jisung asks. “Start meal prepping and making schedules and color-coding everything?”

“I don’t color-code everything.”

“Really? Because your calendar says otherwise.”

“You looked at my calendar?”

“I saw it once when you were checking Lily’s schedule. It was very… organized.”

“That’s not a bad thing.”

“Didn’t say it was.” Jisung leans back. “Just different from how I do things.”

“Clearly.”

They watch Junho try to teach Lily some kind of superhero move. She’s correcting his stance, very seriously. He’s laughing.

“I’m not trying to tell you how to parent,” Minho says after a while. “That’s not..that’s not my place.”

“But?”

“But I think you’re stretched thin. And when people are stretched thin, they forget to take care of themselves. And then they burn out.”

“Speaking from experience?”

Minho doesn’t answer, which is answer enough.

“I’m fine,” Jisung says, softer now. “Really. I know I’m disorganized and I eat like a college student but I’m managing.”

“Managing isn’t the same as being okay.

Jisung pulls out his water bottle and takes a sip. “There. Hydrating. Happy?”

“It’s a start.”

“You’re impossible to please.”

“I’m just concerned.”

“Why?”

The question slips out before Jisung can stop it. 

Minho looks at him and Jisung feels pinned under that gaze.

“I don’t know,” Minho says quietly. “I shouldn’t be. We barely know each other.”

“Yeah.”

“But I am anyway.”

Oh.

Jisung’s heart does something complicated. He tears his gaze away and focuses on the kids. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I’ll try to eat actual meals. Sometimes.”

“Every day.”

“Most days.”

“Jisung.”

“Fine. Every day. Probably.”

Minho sighs but there’s something almost fond in it. “You’re impossible.”

“Takes one to know one.”

They sit in silence for a bit. Jisung realizes he’s smiling. He doesn’t remember when that started.

“Your coffee habit is really concerning though,” Minho says suddenly.

“Oh my god.”

“I’m serious. How much do you drink in a day?”

“I don’t know. A normal amount.”

“What’s a normal amount?”

“Four cups? Maybe five.”

“Jisung.”

“What! That’s normal!”

“That’s excessive. You’re going to give yourself heart palpitations.”

“I’ve had heart palpitations since I was twenty. I’m fine.”

Minho looks genuinely alarmed now. “That’s not..you shouldn’t..” He stops, takes a breath. “Please tell me you’ve seen a doctor about that.”

“It’s just anxiety. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.”

Jisung turns to face him. “Why do you care so much?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that.”

“Because it’s true. I don’t know why I care. I just do.”

There’s something vulnerable in Minho’s expression, something that makes Jisung’s chest feel too tight. He has the sudden, wild urge to reach over and—what? Touch his hand? His shoulder?

He doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he says, “I’ll cut back on the coffee. A little.”

“A lot.”

“A medium amount.”

Minho shakes his head but he’s almost smiling. “You’re going to be difficult about this, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Because you’re getting to know me.”

Something shifts in Minho’s expression. “I suppose I am.”

They’re sitting close enough now that Jisung can feel the warmth of Minho beside him. Close enough that when Minho’s sleeve brushes against his, Jisung notices.

He notices everything, actually. The way Minho’s hair falls across his forehead. The way he worries his bottom lip when he’s thinking. The way his whole face softens when he looks at Lily.

Oh no, Jisung thinks. This is becoming a problem.

~

Junho’s birthday is coming up, close enough that it has started slipping into conversation.

Jisung plans to keep it small withjust the two of them, maybe pizza and a movie. Junho hasn’t asked for a party. Most of his friends from school are casual acquaintances at best, and his mom said she’d come by but Jisung isn’t holding out any hopes.

Then, a day before his birthday, Junho says, “Can Lily come over for my birthday?”

They’re eating dinner—actual dinner, chicken and rice that Jisung cooked because Minho’s nagging voice has taken up residence in his head.

“Lily? You want to invite her to your birthday?”

“Yeah. We’re working on a comic together. She said she’d help me design my superhero costume.”

“A comic?”

“It’s about a guy who can control lightning. Lily’s doing the drawings and I’m doing the story.” Junho shovels rice into his mouth. “She’s really good, Dad. Like, really good.”

“Sure. I’ll ask her dad.”

“Can we have chocolate cake? The kind with the fudge inside?”

“I was thinking we’d just get one from the store..”

“Please? The homemade kind?”

Jisung doesn’t know how to make a cake with fudge inside. He doesn’t really know how to make any cake. But Junho is looking at him with those hopeful eyes and Jisung hears himself say, “Yeah. Okay. Chocolate cake.”

He texts Minho that night: Junho wants Lily to come to his birthday on Sunday around 4 . Small thing, just cake and maybe a movie. You’re welcome to stay if you want.

Minho responds in under a minute: We’ll be there. Does Junho have any allergies I should know about?

Jisung: No allergies. Also I’m making a cake.

Minho:  You’re making a cake?

Jisung: Don’t sound so surprised.

Minho:  I’m not surprised. I’m concerned.

Jisung: Rude.

Minho:  Do you need help?

 Jisung: Are you offering to help me bake a cake?

Minho.   I’m offering to make sure Junho’s birthday cake is edible.

Jisung: I can make an edible cake..

Minho: Can you?

Jisung takes a photo of his kitchen—flour on the counter, eggs on the table, a recipe pulled up on his laptop. He sends it to Minho with the caption: See? I’m prepared.

Minho calls him immediately.

“Is that a cookbook from 1987?”

“It’s my mom’s. She wrote notes in the margins.”

“The spine is held together with tape.”

“So? It still works.”

There’s a pause, then a sigh. “I’m coming over to help.”

“You don’t have to..”

“What time?”

“Minho, seriously, I can handle..”

“Jisung. What time?”

And there it is—that bossy tone that should be annoying but somehow makes Jisung’s stomach flip. “Seven? After I put Junho to bed?”

“I’ll be there.”

~

Minho shows up at seven-fifteen with a bag of baking supplies and a look of determination that suggests he’s ready for battle.

“Your kitchen is smaller than I expected,” he says, setting the bag on the counter.

“Hello to you too.”

“Do you have a stand mixer?”

“No.”

“Hand mixer?”

“Does a whisk count?”

Minho closes his eyes briefly. “This is going to be a long night.”

But he doesn’t leave. He rolls up his sleeves and Jisung tries very hard not to stare at his forearms. He starts unpacking the ingredients; Butter, cocoa powder, vanilla extract that actually smells like vanilla and not chemicals.

“Did you buy all this tonight?” Jisung asks.

“I had most of it already.”

“You just have cake making ingredients lying around?”

“I bake with Lily sometimes. It’s calming.”

Jisung can’t picture Minho doing anything calming. He’s only ever seen him tense and controlled and wound too tight. But he doesn’t say that.

They work in Jisung’s tiny kitchen, bumping elbows and reaching around each other. Minho explains each step with patience Jisung didn’t know he had. Jisung tries to follow instructions and only messes up twice.

“No, you have to fold it in, not stir,” Minho says, reaching over to guide Jisung’s hand. His fingers wrap around Jisung’s wrist and Jisung forgets how to breathe for a second.

“Like this?” Jisung’s voice comes out rougher than intended.

“Yes. Gentle.”

Minho’s hand lingers for a moment before pulling away. Jisung keeps folding the batter, very focused on not thinking about how warm Minho’s touch was.

“You have flour on your face,” Minho says.

“What?”

“Right there.” Minho reaches up without thinking, thumb brushing against Jisung’s cheekbone.

They both freeze.

Minho’s hand is still hovering near Jisung’s face. They’re standing closer than Jisung realized. Close enough that he can see the exact moment Minho’s eyes widen slightly, like he’s just realizing what he’s done.

“Sorry,” Minho says, dropping his hand. “That was..sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Jisung’s heart is doing that thing again. “Thanks. For getting the flour.”

“Right. Yes.”

They go back to the cake but something in the air has shifted. 

“So,” Jisung says, desperate to fill the silence. “You bake when you’re stressed?”

“Sometimes. It’s methodical. You follow the steps and you get a predictable result.”

“That sounds very you.”

“Is that a criticism?”

“An observation.” Jisung grins. “See? I can do those too.”

Minho shakes his head but he’s smiling. “Put the cake in the oven before you ruin it.”

Jisung slides the pan into the oven. When he turns around, Minho is leaning against the counter, watching him.

“What?” Jisung asks.

“Nothing. You have more flour. On your shirt now.”

Jisung looks down. There’s a handprint of flour on his hip. “How did that even get there?”

“You’re a disaster in the kitchen.”

Jisung puts his hand over his heart, his eyes glinting mischievously. “You really wound me, Lee Minho.”

Minho simply rolls his eyes and says,“While the cake bakes, we should clean.”

“We?”

“Yes, we. You made most of this mess.”

They clean side by side and it’s strangely domestic. Minho washes, Jisung dries. Their shoulders bump. Minho comments on Jisung’s organizational system or lack thereof. Jisung defends his method of “I know where everything is, mostly.”

“Your mugs are in three different cabinets,” Minho points out.

“That’s on purpose.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It felt right at the time.”

Minho looks at him like he’s trying to solve a complicated equation. “You’re so strange.”

“You keep saying that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not bad. It’s just…” Minho trails off. “Different.”

“Different from you?”

“Different from anyone.”

There’s something in the way he says it that makes Jisung’s chest feel warm. He focuses very hard on drying a plate.

The timer goes off. Minho checks the cake with a toothpick, nods in approval and sets it on the counter to cool. Then he starts on the frosting.

“You don’t have to do that,” Jisung says. “You’ve already done so much.”

“I’m here. I might as well finish.”

“Minho.”

“Besides, if I leave now, you’ll try to frost it yourself and it’ll be a mess.”

“I know how to frost a cake.”

Minho gives him a look.

“Okay, I don’t. But I could figure it out.”

“Just let me help.”

So Jisung does. He watches Minho work—the careful way he measures the powdered sugar, the smooth motions as he whips the butter. There’s something almost hypnotic about it.

“You’re staring,” Minho says without looking up.

“I’m watching. There’s a difference.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Watching is educational. Staring is creepy.”

Minho’s mouth twitches. “And which one are you doing?”

“Watching. Obviously.”

“If you say so.”

Once the cake is cool enough, Minho frosts it with the kind of precision Jisung associates with surgeons or artists. Every stroke is deliberate. When he’s done, it looks professional.

“Wow,” Jisung says. “That’s actually beautiful.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I’m not surprised. I’m impressed.”

Minho glances at him and there’s something soft in his expression. “Junho will like it.”

“He’ll love it. Thank you. Really.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You didn’t have to come over and spend your whole evening helping me.”

“I wanted to.”

The words hang between them. Jisung is suddenly very aware that they’re alone in his apartment, standing in his small kitchen with the lights dimmed and a cake between them that they made together.

“Why?” Jisung asks quietly.

“Why what?”

“Why did you want to?”

Minho sets down the spatula. He doesn’t answer right away and Jisung thinks maybe he won’t. Then Minho says, “Because you asked. And because I like… this.”

“This?”

“Being here. Helping. I don’t know.” Minho looks frustrated with himself. “I’m not good at explaining.”

“You’re doing fine.”

“I’m not. I never..” Minho stops to take a breath. “I don’t usually spend time with people. Outside of work or parenting. I don’t know how.”

“You’re doing it right now.”

“I know. That’s what’s strange.”

Jisung takes a step closer. He can see the tension in Minho’s shoulders, the way he’s holding himself very still.

“For what it’s worth,” Jisung says, “I like this too.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. Even when you’re bossy and you criticize my kitchen organization.”

“I don’t criticize..”

“You absolutely do.”

Minho’s lips quirk. “Maybe a little.”

“A lot.”

“Fine. A lot.”

They’re both smiling now and Jisung doesn’t remember the last time this felt easy. He thinks about reaching out, about closing the distance that’s barely there anymore.

Minho’s eyes flick down to Jisung’s mouth, just for a second. Just long enough for Jisung to notice.

“Minho.”

Minho’s phone buzzes loudly on the counter. They both jump apart like they’ve been burned.

Minho grabs his phone. “It’s Lily. She’s supposed to be asleep.” He answers. “Hey, sweetheart. What’s wrong?”

Jisung can hear Lily’s small voice on the other end but can’t make out the words. Minho’s expression softens.

“Okay. No, it’s okay. I’ll be home soon. Put Grandma on the phone.” A pause. “Yes, I promise. Twenty minutes.” Another pause. “Love you too.”

He hangs up and looks at Jisung apologetically.

“She had a nightmare. She wants me home.”

“Of course. Go. I’ve got this.”

“You’re sure?”

“Minho, you made the entire cake. I think I can handle putting it in the fridge.”

Minho nods but doesn’t move right away. He looks at the cake, then at Jisung. “Tonight was… nice.”

“Yeah. It was.”

“I’ll see you on Sunday? For the party?”

“Four PM. Don’t be late.”

“I’m never late.”

“I know. It’s very annoying.”

Minho lets out a genuine laugh before grabbing  his jacket and heading  for the door. At the threshold, he pauses.

“Jisung?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For letting me help.”

“Thank you for helping.”

Minho nods once more, then leaves.

Jisung stands in his kitchen, staring at the cake, his heart still unsteady from how close the moment had come to tipping into something else.

~

Sunday arrives with grey skies and the threat of rain that never quite follows through.

Jisung spends the morning cleaning his apartment in a way he hasn’t since he moved in. Junho helps, mostly by moving his toys from one corner to another and asking questions every thirty seconds.

“Is the cake still good?”

“Yes.”

“Did you check?”

“I checked twice this morning.”

“What if Lily doesn’t like Ironman decorations?”

“Then she’ll be polite about it.”

“What if..”

“Junho.” Jisung stops vacuuming. “It’s going to be fine. It’s just Lily and her dad.”

“But what if it’s not fun?”

Jisung crouches down. “Hey. It’ll be fun. I promise.”

Junho nods but doesn’t look convinced. He’s been like this all week—excited but anxious, the way he gets when his mom is supposed to visit. Speaking of which..

Jisung checks his phone. No messages. His ex-wife said she’d try to come by but “try” usually means “won’t.” He should tell Junho to prepare him but he can’t bring himself to do it yet.

At three-thirty, the doorbell rings.

Jisung says. “They’re early.”

But when he opens the door, it’s not Minho and Lily. It’s his ex-wife, Minji, holding a wrapped present and wearing the smile she uses when she feels guilty.

“Hi,” she says. “Surprise?”

Junho comes running. “Mom! You came!”

“Of course I came. It’s your birthday, baby.” She hugs him and Jisung watches Junho’s whole face light up.

“Minji,” Jisung says carefully. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

She follows him to the kitchen while Junho tears into the present—a Lego set he’s been wanting for months.

“You said you’d let me know if you were coming,” Jisung says quietly.

“I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure I could make it until this morning.”

“You could have texted.”

“I wanted to surprise him.”

“Minji, you can’t just..” He stops, takes a breath. “How long can you stay?”

“An hour? Maybe two. I have plans later.”

“Plans.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t judge me.”

“I’m not judging. I’m just..” The doorbell rings again. “We’ll talk about this later.”

This time it is Minho and Lily. Lily is holding a carefully wrapped present and wearing a pink dress. Minho is in dark jeans and a grey sweater that fits him unfairly well.

“Hi,” Jisung says and then Minji appears behind him.

Minho’s eyes flick between them, his expression carefully neutral. “I hope we are not interrupting.”

“No, not at all. This is..this is Minji. Junho’s mom. Minji, this is Minho. Lily’s dad.”

“Oh.” Minji extends her hand. “Nice to meet you. Junho talks about Lily all the time.”

“Likewise.” Minho shakes her hand, polite but distant.

Lily and Junho are already running off to his room. The adults stand in the entryway in awkward silence.

Minji checks her phone. “I should actually spend some time with Junho before I have to leave. I’ll just..” She gestures vaguely toward Junho’s room.

When she’s gone, Minho says quietly, “I didn’t know she was coming.”

“Neither did I.”

“we can leave. Come back later.”

“No. Stay. Please.” Jisung runs a hand through his hair. “She’ll probably leave soon anyway.”

Minho nods but doesn’t look convinced.

They move to the living room. Jisung decorated it with Ironman streamers and balloons that Junho insisted on. It looks chaotic and nothing like the carefully organized parties Minho probably throws for Lily.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Jisung asks. “Coffee? Water? I have juice boxes.”

“Water is fine.”

In the kitchen, Jisung takes a moment to breathe. This is fine. Everything is fine. So what if Minji showed up unannounced? So what if Minho is in his living room looking incredibly soft in his grey sweater? It’s just a birthday party.

He brings Minho a glass of water. They sit on opposite ends of the couch.

“The apartment is nice,” Minho offers.

“You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not lying. It’s… lived in.”

“That’s a polite way of saying messy.”

“I didn’t say messy.”

“You were thinking it.”

Minho’s mouth twitches. “Maybe.”

Jisung laughs. “At least you’re honest.”

They can hear Junho and Lily in the bedroom, Junho explaining something loudly while Lily asks clarifying questions. Minji’s voice joins in, lighter, trying too hard.

“She doesn’t see him much,” Jisung says suddenly. “Minji. She’s supposed to but she cancels a lot.”

“That must be hard. For Junho.”

“Yeah.” Jisung picks at the label on his water bottle. “He doesn’t say it but I know. He always gets quiet after she leaves.”

“Kids notice more than we think.”

“Lily said something similar. About you.”

Minho looks at him. “What did she say?”

“That you were sad. That you were working too much.” Jisung meets his eyes. “She’s worried about you.”

“She shouldn’t be. That’s not her job.”

“Doesn’t mean she won’t do it anyway.”

Minho is quiet for a moment. “She asked me the other day if I was happy.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That I was happy when I was with her. Which is true. But she looked at me like she knew I was avoiding the question.”

“Six-year-olds are terrifying.”

“They really are.”

Minji emerges from the bedroom. “Junho wants to cut the cake now. Is that okay?”

Jisung glances at Minho, who nods. “Sure. Yeah. Let’s cut the cake.”

They gather in the small dining area. Jisung brings out the cake—the one he and Minho made together—and lights the candles. Junho’s eyes go wide.

“Dad, you made this?”

“Mostly Mr. Lee made it. I helped a little.”

Junho looks at Minho with something like awe. “You can make cakes?”

“Sometimes,” Minho says. “When I have help.”

They sing happy birthday. Junho blows out the candles. 

“This is so good,” Minji says. “Jisung, I didn’t know you could bake.”

“I can’t. Minho did most of it.”

“Well, it’s delicious.” She takes another bite, then checks her phone. Her expression shifts. “Oh. I actually need to head out soon.”

Junho’s face falls. “Already?”

“I’m sorry, baby. I have something I can’t miss. But I’ll see you next weekend, okay?”

“You said that last time.”

“I know. But I mean it this time. I promise.”

She hugs him goodbye, nods politely to Minho and Jisung and then she’s gone. The door closes and the apartment feels both quieter and heavier.

Junho stands there for a moment, then says, “Can we watch a movie now?”

“Yeah, bubba. Whatever you want.”

Lily takes his hand. “Can we watch Ironman?”

“You want to watch Ironman?”

“Junho’s been telling me about it. I should probably see it.”

Junho brightens a little. “Really? You’ll watch it with me?”

“Obviously. It’s your birthday.”

They settle on the couch—Junho and Lily in the middle, Jisung on one end. Minho hesitates, then sits on the other end. The movie starts.

Fifteen minutes in, Lily starts asking questions about the plot. Junho answers enthusiastically. They’re talking through the entire movie but neither seems to mind.

Jisung glances over at Minho. He’s watching the kids and there’s something soft in his expression.

“Thank you,” Jisung says quietly. “For the cake. For coming.”

“Of course.”

“I know this is probably not how you wanted to spend your Sunday.”

“It’s fine. Lily’s happy. That’s what matters.”

“Still. I appreciate it.”

Minho looks at him. “You’re a good father, Jisung.”

The words hit harder than they should. “I don’t feel like one sometimes.”

“That’s how I know you are.”

They hold each other’s gaze for a moment too long. Jisung feels that pull again—the same one from the kitchen yesterday. 

On screen, something explodes and the kids cheer, the moment breaking apart just like that.

Halfway through the movie, Lily falls asleep against Junho’s shoulder. Junho is still wide awake, completely absorbed. Minho stands carefully.

“I should get her home.”

“Right. Yeah.”

Minho gently picks up Lily. She stirs but doesn’t wake, just burrows into his shoulder. Junho pauses the movie.

“Thanks for coming, Lily,” he says softly.

“She had fun,” Minho tells him. “Happy birthday, Junho.”

“Thanks, Mr. Lee. And thanks for the cake. It was the best cake ever.”

Something in Minho’s expression softens even more. “I’m glad you liked it.”

Jisung walks them to the door. Lily is completely limp in Minho’s arms and Jisung realizes with a start that this is what Minho looks like when he’s unguarded— gentle and achingly human.

“Drive safe,” Jisung says.

“I will.”

Neither of them moves. They’re standing in the doorway, close enough that Jisung can see the exhaustion around Minho’s eyes.

“Minho.”

“I should go.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Minho shifts Lily’s weight. “Same time next week? The park?”

“Yeah. Same time.”

“Okay.”

Minho turns to leave, then looks back. “Jisung? You did well today. With everything.”

And then he’s gone, walking carefully down the stairs with Lily in his arms.

Jisung closes the door and leans against it. Junho appears beside him.

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“I think Mr. Lee likes you.”

Jisung’s heart stops. “What?”

“It’s okay. I like him too. And Lily.” Junho yawns. “Can we finish the movie?”

“Yeah. Let’s finish the movie.”

But as they settle back on the couch, Jisung can’t stop his thoughts from circling towards Minho.

Whatever has surfaced between them hasn’t gone away. It lingers, unsettled, waiting to be addressed.

~

The playdates become a routine. Then they start happening on weekdays too—quick meetups after school, impromptu dinners that stretch longer than they should.

Jisung stops pretending he’s doing it just for Junho.

It’s a Thursday evening when everything shifts. The kids are at Lily’s grandmother’s house for a sleepover—something they’d begged for all week.Somehow, her grandmother had agreed to take both of them.

Which means Jisung has a free evening for the first time in months.

He’s on his couch, three episodes into a show he’s not really watching, when his phone buzzes.

Are you busy? - Minho

Jisung stares at the message. Minho never texts first. He responds to texts with formal punctuation and proper grammar, but he never initiates.

Jisung: No. Why?

Minho:  Can I come over?

Jisung’s heart does something complicated. 

Jisung: Sure. Everything okay?

Minho:   Yes. I just don’t want to be alone tonight.

Twenty minutes later, Minho is at his door. He’s in jeans and a soft sweater, hair faintly tousled, like he didn’t bother smoothing it down. There’s something quietly attractive about him like this, unguarded in a way Jisung isn’t prepared for.

“Hi,” Jisung says.

“Hi.” Minho holds up a bottle of wine. “I brought this. I don’t know if you drink wine. I should have asked first.”

“I drink wine. Come in.”

They settle on the couch with glasses Jisung has to dig out from the back of a cabinet. The wine is good—much better than anything Jisung would buy for himself.

“Fancy,” Jisung says.

“It was a gift from a client. I’ve been saving it.”

“For what?”

Minho takes a sip. “I don’t know..”

They drink in comfortable silence for a while. The TV stays on with the volume turned low. Outside, rain has started to fall.

“This is nice,” Minho says quietly. “Being here.”

“Yeah?”

“My apartment is too quiet when Lily’s gone. I usually just work. But tonight I didn’t want to.”

“So you came here.”

“So I came here.” Minho looks at him. “Is that okay?”

“More than okay.”

They’re sitting closer than usual. Not touching, but close enough that Jisung can feel the warmth of him. Close enough that when Minho shifts, their knees brush.

“Can I ask you something?” Jisung says.

“Yes.”

“Why did you really stop coming to the playdates? Those five weeks.”

Minho’s fingers tighten around his wine glass. “Because I was scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of this.” Minho gestures vaguely between them. “Of wanting something I shouldn’t want.”

Jisung’s breath catches. “Minho..”

“You asked why I care so much. Why I notice when you skip meals or when your shoelaces are untied.” Minho sets down his glass. “It’s because I can’t stop paying attention to you. I’ve tried. It doesn’t work.”

“Why would you try to stop?”

“Because I’m not…I haven’t..” Minho’s voice cracks slightly. “My wife died three years ago and I haven’t looked at anyone since. Didn’t want to. And then you showed up in that principal’s office with your messy hair and your creased shirt and you were so…”

“So what?”

“Alive. You were so alive. And I couldn’t stop noticing.”

Jisung sets his own glass down carefully. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t know. I’m not good at this. I haven’t done this in..” Minho makes a frustrated sound. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Jisung.”

“Neither do I.”

“Then we’re both lost.”

“Yeah.” Jisung slides closer. “But maybe that’s okay.”

They’re inches apart now. Jisung can see the exact moment Minho’s breath quickens, the way his eyes darken.

“I think about you constantly,” Minho says, voice low. “When I’m at work. When I’m with Lily. When I’m trying to sleep. It’s..I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“Do you want it to stop?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Minho’s hand hesitantly comes up, cupping  Jisung’s jaw. “This is a terrible idea.”

“Probably.”

“We have kids. Complicated lives. This could mess everything up.”

“I know.”

“And I’m..I’m a mess, Jisung. I’m not..I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

“Then we’ll figure it out.” Jisung leans into the touch. “Together.”

Minho makes a sound that might be a laugh or might be a sob. “When did you get so reasonable?”

“I’m not reasonable. I’m terrified.”

“Good. Me too.”

They’re so close now that Jisung can feel Minho’s breath shift, can notice the smallest movements in his face, every inch of space between them suddenly feels  too small.

“Jisung,” Minho breathes. “If we do this..”

“We don’t have to do anything. we can just sit here.”

“I don’t want to just sit here.”

“Then what do you want?”

Instead of answering, Minho closes the distance.

The kiss starts gently, unsure, like they’re both checking that this is really happening. Minho’s lips are warm, carrying the faint taste of wine and something sweet. His hand comes up to Jisung’s jaw, tipping his head just enough to draw him closer.

Jisung makes a sound he’ll be embarrassed about later and reaches for Minho, fingers curling into his sweater. Minho responds by deepening the kiss, his other hand sliding into Jisung’s hair.

When they pull back, both of them are breathing a little unsteadily.

“Oh,” Jisung manages.

Minho lets out a shaky laugh. “Yeah. Oh.”

“That was…”

“Can we do that again?”

Jisung laughs, still catching his breath. “Yes. Please.”

This time it’s hungrier. Jisung parts his lips and Minho takes the invitation, licking into his mouth with a quiet groan that goes straight through Jisung. The TV is still playing something neither of them is paying attention to.

Jisung pulls Minho closer and Minho goes willingly, practically climbing into his lap. Jisung’s hands are everywhere—his waist, his back, tangling in his hair. Minho can’t think, can barely breathe, doesn’t want to.

“God,” Jisung gasps against his mouth. “You’re—”

“What?”

“Perfect. You’re perfect.”

“I’m really not.”

“Shut up.” Jisung kisses him again, harder this time. “You are.”

Jisung’s hands slide under Minho’s sweater, finding warm skin. Minho shudders.

“Jisung..”

“Is this okay?”

“Yes. More than..” Minho’s words get cut off when Jisung’s hands travel higher. “Jesus.”

They break apart, foreheads pressed together, both of them shaking slightly.

“We should stop,” Minho says without conviction.

“Do you want to stop?”

“No. But I…I haven’t done this in so long. I don’t..”

Jisung pulls back enough to see his face. Minho looks undone—lips swollen, hair a mess, eyes laced with desire.

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for,” Jisung says gently. “we can stop right now. Or we can keep going. Whatever you want.”

Minho’s hands come up to frame Jisung’s face. “What do you want?”

“Honestly? I want everything. But only if you do too.”

“I do. I really do. I’m just..”

“Scared?”

“Terrified.”

“Me too.”

Minho kisses him again, softer this time. “Can we just… keep doing this? For now?”

“Yeah. we can do whatever you want.”

So they kiss. They kiss until Jisung’s lips are numb and his brain is fuzzy and he’s completely lost track of time. They kiss until  Minho is almost on top of him, their legs tangled together.

Minho’s mouth moves to Jisung’s jaw, his neck. Jisung gasps, fingers digging into Minho’s back.

“Okay?” Minho murmurs against his skin.

“Very okay. Don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning to.”

Minho finds a sensitive spot just below Jisung’s ear and focuses there until Jisung is making embarrassing sounds. Jisung’s hands roam over Minho’s shoulders, down his back, gripping his hips to pull him closer.

“Jisung,” Minho groans. “You’re killing me.”

“Good.”

“Not good. Very dangerous.”

“Don’t care.”

Minho laughs against his neck and the vibration makes Jisung shiver. “You’re impossible.”

“You like it.”

“I really do.”

They make out like teenagers—all hands and heat and desperation. When Minho’s hand slides under Jisung’s shirt, just resting on his hip, Jisung arches into the touch.

“Can I?” Minho asks.

“Yes. Whatever you want. Yes.”

Minho’s hand travels upward, his palm warm against Jisung’s skin. When his thumb brushes over Jisung’s nipple, Jisung actually whimpers.

“Sensitive,” Minho observes, voice dark with satisfaction.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

So Jisung kisses him again and Minho responds with enthusiasm. They’re pressed so close together that Jisung can feel every line of Minho’s body against his own. Can feel exactly how affected Minho is.

“Minho,” Jisung gasps when they break apart. “We should..maybe we should slow down.”

“Why?” Minho’s hand is still under his shirt, thumb still doing devastating things.

“Because I’m about to combust and I don’t think you’re ready for where this is heading.”

Minho stops,pulling back enough to meet Jisung’s eyes.“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I just..I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m more than okay.” Minho’s hand slides out from under Jisung’s shirt but he doesn’t move away. “This is the most okay I’ve felt in years.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Minho brushes a strand of hair off Jisung’s forehead. “But you’re right. We should slow down. I don’t want to rush this.”

“Me neither.”

They shift into a sitting position, still close, still touching. Minho’s hand finds Jisung’s and laces their fingers together.

“So,” Jisung says. “What now?”

“I don’t know. What do people do after they make out on a couch?”

“Talk, usually. About what this means.”

Minho squeezes his hand. “What do you want it to mean?”

“I want..” Jisung takes a breath. “I want this to be something. Not just a one-time thing. I want to see where this goes.”

“Even if it’s complicated?”

“I mean, it will be complicated regardless of what we do. We’re both single parents. We both have baggage. But I like you, Minho. A lot. And I think you like me too.”

“I do.” Minho brings their joined hands up and presses a kiss to Jisung’s knuckles. “I like you more than I know how to handle.”

“So we’ll figure it out together.”

“What about the kids?”

“We take it slow. We don’t tell them anything until we’re sure. And we make sure they’re okay with it before we..” Jisung gestures vaguely.

“Before we what?”

“Before we do whatever comes next.”

Minho nods. “Okay. Slow. I can do slow.”

“Can you? Because five minutes ago you had your hand up my shirt.”

“You told me I could.”

“I know. I’m not complaining.”

“Good.” Minho leans in and kisses him again, quick and sweet. “Because I plan to do it again. Eventually.”

“Eventually?”

“When we’re both ready.”

“I’m ready now.”

“Liar. You just said we should slow down.”

“I changed my mind.”

Minho lets out a genuine laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You like it.”

“I really do.”

They stay on the couch for another hour, kissing lazily, talking quietly. Minho tells him about his wife—about the good parts, the hard parts, the grief that still catches him off guard sometimes. Jisung talks about his divorce, about the loneliness, about the fear that he’s not enough for Junho.

“You’re more than enough,” Minho says. “You’re an amazing father.”

“So are you.”

“We’re both disasters.”

“Yeah. But we’re disasters together now.”

“Is that what we are? Together?”

Jisung kisses him. “If you want to be.”

“I do.” Minho pulls him close. “I really, really do.”

When Minho finally leaves around midnight, they stand in the doorway for another ten minutes, unable to stop touching. One more kiss turns into five more.

“I should go,” Minho says against Jisung’s lips.

“You should.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“Then stay.”

“I can’t. Lily will be home in the morning.”

“Right. Kids. Responsibility.”

“Unfortunately.”

One more kiss. Then another. Finally, Minho physically pushes himself away.

“I’ll text you tomorrow,” he says.

“You better.”

“And next Saturday..”

“The park. Two PM.”

“Yes.” Minho smiles. “But maybe after, we could…”

“Could what?”

“Do this again?”

Jisung grins. “Definitely.”

He watches Minho walk to his car, waiting until the taillights disappear before closing the door. Then he leans against it, touching his lips, unable to stop smiling.

His phone buzzes.

Minho:  I’m already thinking about you 

Jisung: Good

Minho: This is going to be a problem

Jisung: The best kind of problem

Minho: Go to sleep, Jisung

Jisung: Make me

Minho: Just wait till I get my hands on you. 

Jisung goes to bed with his heart racing and his mind full of Minho—his hands, his mouth, the way he’d looked at Jisung like he was something precious.

This is terrifying.

This is perfect.

~

Jisung picks up Junho from Lily’s grandmother’s house on Friday morning. Junho talks nonstop about the sleepover—about Lily’s art supplies, the fort they built, how her grandmother makes the best pancakes.

“Can we do it again next week?” Junho asks.

“Maybe. We’ll see.”

“That’s adult for no.”

“That’s adult for I need to check with Mr. Lee first.”

Junho looks at him sideways. “You’ve been texting Mr. Lee a lot.”

Jisung nearly drives off the road. “What?”

“Your phone keeps buzzing. And you smile every time.”

“I smile at lots of things.”

“Not like that.”

Jisung doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s saved by pulling into their parking lot.

After  Junho retreats into his room, his phone lights up.

Minho: Are you awake? 

Jisung: Yeah

Minho:   I can’t stop thinking about Thursday. 

Jisung: Me neither

Minho: Lily asked why I was smiling at breakfast this morning.

Jisung: What did you tell her?

Minho: That I was thinking about something nice

Jisung: Smooth

Minho: She didn’t believe me ^_^

Jisung: Kids are terrifying

Minho: They really are..I want to see you before Saturday.

Jisung: when

Minho: Today? Lunch? The kids will be at school

Jisung: You want to have lunch with me?

Minho: Yes. Is that okay?

Jisung: More than okay :)) Where?

Minho: There’s a cafe near my office. I’ll send you the address.

The cafe is small and tucked away on a side street. Minho is already there when Jisung arrives, sitting at a corner table with two coffees.

“I ordered for you,” Minho says. “Regular with too much sugar. I’m judging you for it but I ordered it anyway.”

“Your judgment is part of your charm.”

“Is it?”

“Absolutely.”

They sit and it’s strange being here in the middle of the day, in public, without the kids. Minho is in his work clothes—pressed shirt, dark slacks, looking professional and untouchable. Except Jisung knows now what he looks like underneath that composure. Knows the sounds he makes when he’s being kissed.

“You’re staring,” Minho says.

“I’m admiring.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Huge difference.” Jisung takes a sip of his coffee. It’s perfect. “How did you know how I take my coffee?”

“I pay attention.”

“To my terrible coffee habits?”

“To everything about you.”

Jisung’s heart stumbles. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re in public and I’m trying very hard not to kiss you right now.”

Minho’s expression darkens. “Don’t say things like that when I can’t do anything about it.”

“Then maybe we shouldn’t have met for lunch.”

“Probably not. But I needed to see you.”

They eat in charged silence. Every time their hands brush reaching for something, it feels electric. When Minho’s foot accidentally nudges his under the table, Jisung nearly jumps.

“We’re terrible at this,” Jisung says.

“At what?”

“Being casual. Normal.”

“I’ve never been good at casual.”

“Me neither.”

Minho leans forward slightly. “What are we doing, Jisung?”

“Having lunch?”

“You know what I mean.”

Jisung does. “I don’t know. Taking it one day at a time?”

“That’s not really an answer.”

“What do you want the answer to be?”

Minho is quiet for a moment. “I want this to be real. I want to actually try.”

“Try what?”

“This. Us. Dating, I guess. If that’s what this is.”

“Is that what you want it to be?”

“Yes.” Minho’s voice is steady. “I want to date you. Properly. Even though it’s terrifying and complicated and I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I want that too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Jisung reaches across the table and takes Minho’s hand. “So we’re doing this.”

“We’re doing this.”

“We have to tell the kids eventually.”

Minho’s fingers tighten around his. “I know. Just…not yet. Not until we’re sure they’ll be okay with it.”

“Agreed.”

They finish lunch and walk out together. On the street, Minho stops.

“I have to get back to work.”

“I know.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“When do you ever want to go to work?”

“Fair point.” Minho glances around. The street is mostly empty. “Can I?”

Jisung steps closer. “Can you what?”

Minho cups his face and kisses him, quick and sweet and entirely inappropriate for a public street at noon. When he pulls back, his ears are red.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since Thursday,” Minho says.

“You should do it more often.”

“I plan to.”

They separate reluctantly. Jisung watches Minho walk back toward his office and his chest feels too full.

~ 

Saturday at the park feels different now.

They sit on their usual bench while the kids play but the space between them is charged with everything they’re not saying. Every time their hands brush, it’s deliberate. When Minho adjusts Jisung’s collar because it’s folded wrong, his fingers linger.

“You’re going to give us away,” Jisung murmurs.

“I’m being helpful.”

“You’re being obvious.”

“Am I?” Minho’s hand drops but his eyes don’t leave Jisung’s face.

“Very.”

“Good.”

Junho comes running over. “Dad, can we get ice cream?”

“Sure, bubba.”

“Lily! Ice cream!”

They end up at the same shop as before. The kids get their usual flavors and immediately start debating superhero physics. Jisung and Minho sit across from each other, and under the table, Minho’s foot hooks around Jisung’s ankle.

Jisung nearly chokes on his ice cream.

“You okay?” Minho asks, all innocence.

“Fine. Great. Perfect.”

Minho’s mouth twitches.

“Dad,” Lily says suddenly. “Why are you smiling so much today?”

Minho’s foot freezes. “Am I smiling a lot?”

“You’ve smiled like five times. That’s a lot for you.”

“Maybe I’m just happy.”

“Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

Lily considers this. “I guess not. But you’re being weird.”

“Weird how?”

“I don’t know. Just weird.” She turns to Junho. “Doesn’t your dad seem weird too?”

Junho looks at Jisung thoughtfully. “Yeah. He’s been singing in the shower.”

“I always sing in the shower.”

“No you don’t. You usually just stand there for a really long time.”

“That’s.. I’m not discussing my shower habits with you.”

Both kids giggle. Minho is staring very hard at his ice cream but his shoulders are shaking slightly.

“Are you laughing at me?” Jisung asks.

“No.”

“You absolutely are.”

“Maybe a little.”

Under the table, Minho’s foot is still hooked around his ankle. Jisung hooks back and they sit there like teenagers, playing footsie while their children debate whether Thor or Ironman would win in a fight.

When they’re leaving, Lily takes Junho’s hand to cross the parking lot. They walk ahead, talking animatedly.

“They’re really good together,” Jisung says.

“They are.” Minho moves closer, their shoulders brushing. “Makes things easier. And harder.”

“How so?”

“Easier because they already love each other. Harder because if this doesn’t work, it affects them too.”

“So we make sure it works.”

“Is it that simple?”

“No. But we try anyway.”

They reach their cars. The kids are already buckled in, waiting. Minho turns to face Jisung fully.

“Tomorrow?” he asks quietly.

“What about tomorrow?”

“Can I see you?”

“The kids..”

“I’ll ask my mother-in-law to watch Lily.”

“Minho, you don’t have to..”

“I want to. I want..” Minho glances at the cars, at their kids. “I want time with just you.”

“Okay. Yes. Tomorrow.”

“My place?”

“Your place.”

“Seven?”

“I’ll be there.”

Minho’s hand brushes against his just for a second. “See you tomorrow, Jisung.”

“See you tomorrow.”

~

Sunday evening, Jisung drops Junho off at his friend’s house for a playdate that may or may not have been hastily arranged just for this purpose. Then he drives to Minho’s apartment with his heart in his throat.

Minho’s place is exactly what Jisung expected—clean, organized, but lived-in. There are Lily’s drawings on the fridge, books stacked neatly on shelves, a half-finished puzzle on the coffee table.

“Lily’s current obsession,” Minho explains. “She makes me do one piece every night.”

“That’s sweet.”

“It’s torture. I hate puzzles.”

“But you do them anyway.”

“Of course I do. She asks.”

Jisung falls a little more in love with him right there.

They order takeout because neither of them can focus long enough to cook. They eat on the couch, close together and it feels domestic in a way that makes Jisung’s chest ache.

“This is nice,” Minho says.

“Yeah?”

“Having you here. In my space.”

“I like being in your space.”

“Good. You can be here whenever you want.”

“Careful. I might never leave.”

“I’m counting on it.”

They finish eating and Minho immediately pulls Jisung closer. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

“About what?”

“This.” Minho kisses him, slowly and tentatively. “I couldn’t concentrate at work. Had to redo a contract three times because I kept thinking about your mouth.”

“My mouth?”

“Very distracting mouth.”

“Sorry?”

“Don’t be sorry. Just..come here.”

Jisung goes willingly. They kiss until he’s dizzy, until he’s completely lost track of time. Minho’s hands are in his hair, on his waist, sliding under his shirt just like last time.

“Is this okay?” Minho asks against his lips.

“More than okay.”

“Can I?” Minho tugs at his shirt.

“Yes.”

The shirt comes off. Then Minho’s comes off too. They’re skin to skin and Jisung can’t think, can only feel. Minho’s mouth travels down his neck, across his collarbone, finding every sensitive spot.

“You’re so..” Minho breathes against his skin.

“What?”

“Beautiful. You’re so beautiful.”

“I’m really not..”

“Don’t argue with me.” Minho bites down gently on his shoulder. “You are.”

They make out for what feels like hours.

“Minho,” Jisung gasps when Minho’s hand drifts lower.

“Too much?”

“No. Not enough.”

“We should stop.”

“Why?”

“Because if we don’t stop now, I won’t want to stop at all.”

“Then don’t stop.”

Minho pulls back to look at him. “Jisung..”

“I want this. Do you?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

“Then why are we stopping?”

“Because I need to know you’re sure. That this isn’t just..”

“It’s not just anything. I want you. All of you. Whatever you’re willing to give me.”

Minho’s expression does something complicated. “You already have all of me. That’s the problem.”

“That’s not a problem.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No.” Jisung pulls him down into another kiss. “It’s the best thing that’s happened to me in years.”

Minho doesn’t wait anymore. He pushes himself up and focuses entirely on Jisung, his hands sliding down to Jisung’s hips to pull him closer.

“Are you sure?” Minho asks one last time, his voice low and serious.

“I’m sure,” Jisung says, reaching up to hook his arms around Minho’s neck. “Stop talking.”

Jisung doesn’t let Minho pull away. Instead, he grabs Minho’s shoulders and flips them over. Before Minho can react, he’s flat on his back on the couch and Jisung is looking down at him with hunger Minho has never seen in his gaze.

Minho looks up, his eyes wide and surprised. "Jisung?"

"You said I have all of you," Jisung says, his voice low. "I want to see if you mean it."

Jisung leans down and kisses him hard. He’s not being shy anymore. He takes control, his tongue sliding against Minho’s as his hands roam over Minho’s chest and shoulders. He can feel Minho’s heart beating fast under his palms.

Minho’s hands grip Jisung’s waist tightly, his fingers digging into his skin. He lets out a low groan when Jisung shifts his weight and grinds down against him.

Jisung reaches down and undoes Minho's jeans, pushing them off until they are both completely bare.

He reaches up, his hand sliding behind Jisung’s neck to pull him down for a kiss. "Use your mouth," Minho whispers against his lips, his voice rough. "And take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

Jisung nods, shifting down. He uses his tongue and his fingers, using his own saliva to make things easier. He’s patient, working slowly to open Minho up. He starts with one finger, then two, pressing deep and waiting for Minho to relax.

Minho groans, his hips twitching upward. His hands are buried in Jisung’s hair, tugging slightly as he breathes through the sensation. "Jisung... that's it. Right there."

Jisung keeps going until he can feel Minho’s muscles softening under his touch. He adds a third finger, stretching him carefully until Minho is arching off the couch, his skin flushed and damp with sweat. Only when Minho is slick and panting, his legs falling open wide, does Jisung decide he’s ready.

“Do you have a condom?” Minho manages to blurt out in a haze. 

Jisung hurriedly looks through his pockets and manages to find a condom he had kept for no reason at all. He lets out a tiny squeal of joy which makes Minho giggle. 

Minho takes the condom from his hands and slowly puts it on him, taking his sweet time. 

Jisung moves back up, positioning himself. He sinks in slowly, letting Minho’s body stretch to take him. Jisung gasps, his head falling back as he feels how tight and warm Minho is.

"You okay?" Jisung asks, breathless.

Minho reaches up, grabbing Jisung’s arms and pulling him down for a desperate kiss. "Don't stop," Minho commands. "Move."

Jisung starts to move, setting a steady, careful rhythm that quickly turns faster as they both get lost in it.

Minho’s hands move from Jisung’s hair to his back, his nails scratching lightly against Jisung’s skin. He’s making sounds now that Jisung has never heard before—low, broken whimpers that make Jisung want to push even harder.

“Jisung,” Minho gasps, his eyes snapping open. “Harder. Please.”

Jisung leans forward, pinning Minho’s wrists to the couch cushions. He picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming deeper and more forceful. The couch creaks under their weight, the only sound in the room besides their heavy breathing and the wet slap of their skin.

Jisung feels like he’s losing his mind. Every time he hits the right spot, Minho’s entire body jolts. Jisung leans down, biting at Minho’s jawline, then his neck, leaving marks he knows will still be there tomorrow.

“You’re mine,” Jisung mutters, the words coming out unbidden, fueled by the heat of the moment.

Minho responds by wrapping his legs around Jisung’s waist, pulling him as deep as possible. “Yes,” Minho groans, his voice a total wreck. “Yours. Always.”

The tension in Jisung’s gut coils tighter and tighter until it’s almost painful. He watches Minho’s face—the way his mouth hangs open, the way his chest heaves. It’s too much for his weak heart to handle. 

 Minho arches his back so high his shoulders almost leave the couch, a loud, choked-off cry escaping him as he spills across Jisung’s stomach. A second later, Jisung follows, his eyes slamming shut as his whole body goes rigid, a wave of intense pleasure crashing through him.

He collapses onto Minho’s chest, his heart hammering against his ribs like it’s trying to escape. 

Later, they’re tangled together on the couch, both boneless and satisfied. Minho traces patterns on Jisung’s bare shoulder.

“What are you thinking?” Jisung asks.

“That I should probably feel guilty about this.”

“Do you?”

“No. Should I?”

“Absolutely not.”

Minho presses a kiss to his shoulder. “Good.”

“When do we tell the kids?”

“Soon. Not yet. I want to be selfish a little longer.”

“How long is a little longer?”

“I don’t know. A week? Two weeks?”

“we can’t hide this forever.”

“I know.” Minho shifts so they’re face to face. “But I like having this be just ours. Just for a bit.”

“Okay. Just for a bit.”

“Thank you.”

They stay like that until Jisung has to leave to pick up Junho. At the door, they kiss goodbye for far too long.

“Tomorrow?” Minho asks.

“I thought we were taking it slow.”

“We are. This is slow.”

“This is not slow.”

“It is for me.” Minho kisses him again. “I want to see you every day. That’s me exercising restraint.”

“You’re insane.”

“About you? Yes.”

Jisung drives home with a stupid smile on his face and his heart too full.

When he picks up Junho, his son looks at him suspiciously.

“You look weird.”

“Thanks, bubba.”

“No, like, happy weird. Did something good happen?”

“Maybe.”

“Did you hang out with Mr. Lee?”

Jisung nearly crashes the car again. “What?”

“I’m just asking.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you always look like this after you see him.”

“Like what?”

“Smiley and weird.”

Jisung doesn’t know what to say to that. Junho just shrugs and goes back to his phone.

That night, Jisung gets a text.

Minho:  Lily asked me if I have a girlfriend

Jisung. What did you say?

Minho:  I said no

Jisung: Technically true

Minho:  How?

Jisung; Cuz you have a boyfriend. 

Minho: Oh is that so? Are you my boyfriend?

Jisung stares at his phone, heart racing.

Jisung: Do you want me to be?

Minho: Yes

Jisung: Then yes, I am your boyfriend. And you are my boyfriend. 

Minho: That feels strange to say at 38

Jisung: Do you want to pick a different word?

Minho:  No. I like boyfriend. I like being yours

Jisung; Good. Because you are.

Minho:  And you’re mine?

Jisung: Completely

Jisung falls asleep smiling.

~

They decide to tell the kids on a Saturday.

It’s been two weeks of stolen moments—quick kisses when dropping off the kids, late-night phone calls after bedtimes, one memorable evening at Minho’s place that left them both breathless and certain about what they’re doing.

But the secrecy is starting to weigh. Junho keeps asking why Jisung is on his phone so much. Lily told Minho yesterday that he seems “lighter” and she wanted to know why.

“We tell them together,” Minho says over the phone on Friday night. “At the park.”

“What if they’re upset?”

“Then we deal with it. Together.”

“You keep saying that. Together.”

“Because I mean it.” Minho’s voice softens. “I’m not doing this without you.”

“Okay. Tomorrow. Two PM.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Minho?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m terrified.”

“Me too.”

Saturday is unseasonably warm. The park is crowded with families taking advantage of the weather. Jisung spots Minho immediately—he’s at their usual bench, hands clasped between his knees, looking like he’s about to face a firing squad.

 Lily waves. “Junho! Come on, the swings are free!”

The kids run off. Jisung sits down next to Minho, close enough that their shoulders touch.

“You okay?” Jisung asks.

“No. You?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Good. At least we’re panicking together.”

They watch the kids for a few minutes. Junho is pushing Lily on the swing, both of them laughing. 

“They’re going to be okay with this, right?” Jisung asks.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

“I’m trying to be realistic.”

“Try being optimistic instead.”

Minho glances at him. “Since when are you the optimistic one?”

“Since about two weeks ago when you kissed me and turned my entire world upside down.”

Minho’s expression softens. “I did that?”

“You absolutely did.”

“Good.” Minho’s hand finds his, hidden between them on the bench. “Ready?”

“No. But let’s do it anyway.”

They call the kids over. Lily comes running, Junho trailing behind. They both look curious but not concerned.

“Sit down, sweetheart,” Minho says to Lily, patting the bench beside him.

Junho sits next to Jisung. “Are we in trouble?”

“No,” Jisung says quickly. “Not at all. We just need to talk to you both about something.”

“Both of us?” Lily looks between them. “Together?”

“Yes.”

The kids exchange glances. Jisung’s heart is hammering so hard he’s sure everyone can hear it.

Minho clears his throat. “So. You both know that Jisung and I have been spending a lot of time together. Not just at playdates, but other times too.”

“Are you friends now?” Junho asks.

“Yes. We’re friends. But we’re also..” Minho’s gaze is directed at  Jisung. “We’re more than friends.”

Lily’s eyes go wide. “Like… dating?”

“Yes. Like dating.”

 Both kids are staring at them with identical expressions of shock.

“You’re dating my dad?” Junho says to Minho.

“Yes.”

“And you’re dating Lily’s dad?” Junho turns to Jisung.

“Yes.”

More silence. Jisung wants to fill it with explanations and reassurances, but Minho’s hand squeezes his in warning.

 Lily says, “So you’re boyfriends?”

“Yes,” Minho says.

“Like boyfriend boyfriends? Like you kiss and stuff?”

Minho’s ears go red. “Yes.”

“Ew,” both kids say in unison.

Jisung can’t help but chuckle at that. 

Junho is frowning. “When did this happen?”

“Recently. A few weeks ago.”

“Is that why you’ve been so smiley?” Junho asks Jisung.

“Partly, yes.”

“And that’s why you’ve been weird,” Lily says to Minho. “Because you have a boyfriend.”

“Yes.”

Junho looks at Lily. Lily looks back. Some silent communication passes between them that Jisung can’t interpret.

“Are you guys mad?” Jisung asks carefully. “Or upset? You can tell us if you are.”

“I’m not mad,” Lily says slowly. “I’m just… confused. When did you have time to be boyfriends? You’re always with us.”

“Not always,” Minho says. “Sometimes in the evenings, after you’re both asleep or with other people. We’ve been… getting to know each other.”

“But why didn’t you tell us?” Junho’s voice is smaller now. “Did you think we’d be mad?”

“We didn’t know how you’d feel,” Jisung admits. “And we wanted to make sure it was serious before we said anything. We didn’t want to confuse you or upset you.”

“Are you serious?” Lily asks. “Like, is this going to last?”

Minho looks at Jisung, and something passes between them. “We hope so. We really hope so.”

Junho kicks at the ground. “Does this mean we’re going to see each other all the time now?”

“Probably more than before, yes.”

Both kids think about this. The silence stretches.

“This is weird,” Junho finally says.

“Yeah,” Lily agrees. “Really weird.”

“Weird bad or weird… okay?” Jisung asks.

Junho shrugs. “I don’t know yet.”

“That’s fair,” Minho says. “You don’t have to know right now. This is a lot to take in.”

“Are you going to get married?” Lily asks suddenly.

Minho chokes on air. “That’s…we’re not..we’ve only been dating for two weeks.”

“But you might? Eventually?”

“I don’t know, Lily. Maybe. We’re not thinking that far ahead.”

“But if you did get married, would we be like… siblings?”  Junho asks, directed at Lily.

Lily wrinkles her nose. “Step-siblings, I guess?”

“That’s so weird.”

“I know.”

They’re both processing out loud now, talking to each other more than to their parents.

“Would we live together?” Junho asks.

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Which house?”

“I don’t know!”

“Would I have to share my room?”

“Junho,” Jisung interrupts gently. “We’re not moving in together. Nobody’s sharing rooms. We’re just dating. That’s all.”

“For now,” Lily points out.

“Yes, for now.”

“But later you might get married and move in together and then we’d be a family?” She’s looking at Minho very seriously. “Is that what you want?”

Minho takes a shaky breath. “I want to be happy. And Jisung…he makes me happy. Happier than I’ve been in a very long time.”

“Since Mom died?” Lily’s voice is soft.

“Yes. Since then.”

Lily thinks about this. “Mom would want you to be happy.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

Lily looks at Jisung, assessing him. “Is he nice?”

“Very nice,” Minho manages.

“Okay.” Lily nods decisively. “Then it’s okay.”

“Just like that?” Jisung asks, surprised.

“Well, yeah. You make dad happy. And Junho’s my best friend. So if you guys are together, that means I get to see Junho more. That’s good.”

“What about you?” Minho asks Junho gently. “How are you feeling about this?”

Junho has been quiet, thinking. “My mom left because she didn’t want to be with Dad anymore.”

Jisung’s heart clenches. “Junho.”

“But you want to be with him, right? Like, you’re choosing him?”

“Yes,” Minho says firmly. “Very much choosing him.”

“And you’re not going to leave?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. I can’t predict the future, but I can promise that I’m here because I want to be. Because I care about your dad. And because I care about you too.”

Junho looks at him for a long moment, then he nods. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. You’re kind of bossy and you make my dad eat vegetables, but you’re nice. And you helped with my birthday cake. That was cool.”

“Just cool?” Minho’s mouth twitches.

“Really cool. Best cake I ever had.”

“High praise.”

“So… we’re okay with this?” Jisung asks, looking between both kids. “Really okay?”

“I think so,” Lily says. “But you have to promise not to be weird about it.”

“Weird how?”

“Like, don’t kiss in front of us. That’s gross.”

“And don’t be all mushy,” Junho adds. “That’s also gross.”

“we can do that,” Jisung says, fighting a smile.

“And you still have to pay attention to us,” Lily continues. “Not just each other.”

“Of course,” Minho says. “You two come first. Always.”

Lily says, “Can we go back to the swings now?”

“That's it? You’re done processing?”

“Yeah. We’re good. Come on, Junho.”

They run off, already back to their game. Jisung and Minho sit on the bench, slightly in awe.

“That went better than expected,” Jisung says.

“Did it?”

“They didn’t cry or freak out or demand we stop seeing each other.”

“True.” Minho lets out a shaky laugh. “God, I was so nervous.”

“Me too.” Jisung wants to take his hand but remembers the no PDA rule. “So we’re really doing this. Out in the open.”

“We’re really doing this.”

“How do you feel?”

Minho looks at him and his expression is soft and open in a way that makes Jisung’s chest ache. “Terrified. Happy. Relieved. All of it.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

They watch their kids play. At one point, Lily says something to Junho and they both look back at their dads. Then they giggle and run off.

“They’re talking about us,” Jisung observes.

“Definitely.”

“Think they’re plotting something?”

“Probably.”

“Should we be worried?”

“Absolutely.”

But Minho is smiling and Jisung is smiling, and for the first time in a very long time, the future doesn’t feel quite so scary.

That night, after Junho is in bed, Jisung’s phone rings.

“Hey,” he answers.

“Hi.” Minho’s voice is warm. “I just put Lily to sleep. She asked me three more times if I was really happy.”

“What did you tell her?”

“The truth. That I am. Because of you.”

“Minho..”

“Can I come over? I know it’s late, but I..I want to see you.”

“Will Lily be okay?”

“She’s asleep. And my mother-in-law is here. She said she’d take care of Lily.”

“You told her?”

“I told her. She said it was about time I started living again.”

“Come over.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

He’s there in fifteen.

They don’t bother with pretense this time. The door closes and Minho is kissing him, urgently and desperately. They make it to the bedroom, and it’s everything they ever wished for.

After, they lie tangled together in Jisung’s bed and Minho traces patterns on his chest.

“We told them,” Minho says quietly.

“We told them.”

“And they were okay with it.”

“They were.”

“So now we can do this. Properly.”

“Is that what this was? Proper?”

Minho props himself up on one elbow to look down at him. “This was perfect.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He leans down and kisses him softly. “You’re perfect.”

“I’m really not.”

“You are to me.”

Jisung pulls him back down and they stay like that until Minho has to leave before Lily wakes up. At the door, they kiss goodbye for far too long.

“Tomorrow?” Minho asks.

“Tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that.”

“Good. That’s exactly what I want.”

After he leaves, Jisung goes back to bed and stares at the ceiling with a stupid smile on his face.

~ 

Epilogue: One Year Later

“I told you to watch it!” Minho shouts from the kitchen.

“I was watching it!” Jisung shouts back. “It just burnt really fast!”

“That’s not how popcorn works!”

“Apparently it is!”

In the living room, Junho and Lily are building a blanket fort. They’ve gotten scarily good at construction over the past year.

“Are they fighting again?” Lily asks, unconcerned.

“Yeah. Dad burnt the popcorn.”

“He always burns the popcorn.”

“I know.”

They go back to their fort. This is normal now—their dads bickering in the kitchen while preparing for their family movie nights in their shared living room.

In the kitchen, Minho has given up on the burnt batch and is making a fresh one while Jisung leans against the counter, watching him with obvious fondness.

“You’re staring,” Minho says.

“I’m admiring.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Huge difference.”

Minho shakes his head but he’s smiling. “Help me with this.”

They work in synchronized chaos. Over the past year, they’ve learned each other’s rhythms—when to push, when to pull back, how to balance Minho’s need for structure with Jisung’s creative disorder.

“The kids are plotting something,” Jisung says, glancing toward the living room.

“They’re always plotting something.”

“Should we be worried?”

“Absolutely.” Minho glances over. “But they’re happy. That’s what matters.”

“We’re happy too.”

“We are.” Minho turns to face him fully. “Are you? Happy?”

“Deliriously. Sometimes I still can’t believe this is real.”

“It’s real.” Minho kisses him, quick and sweet. “We’re real.”

The popcorn finishes. They pour it into bowls and head to the living room, where the kids have constructed an elaborate fort. 

“Impressive,” Minho says.

“We’ve been practicing,” Lily says proudly.

“Movie time!” Junho announces.

They all pile into the fort as elegantly as they can manage. Some superhero movie plays on the laptop while the kids pay more attention to providing commentary. 

Halfway through, both kids start nodding off—Lily against Jisung’s shoulder while Junho is sprawled across Minho’s lap.

“We should move them to bed,” Minho whispers.

“In a minute.”

They sit there in the blanket fort with their sleeping children and Jisung thinks about how far they’ve come.

“What are you thinking?” Minho asks softly.

“That I’m grateful. For all of this. For you.”

“I’m grateful too.” Minho’s hand finds his in the darkness. “For you showing up and turning my entire life upside down.”

“Best decision I ever made.”

“What, showing up to that meeting?”

“No. Letting myself fall in love with you.”

Minho kisses him over their sleeping children, soft and full of promise. “Best decision I ever made too.”

Eventually they wake the kids and lead them through the bedtime routine—teeth brushed, pajamas on, tucking in and goodnight kisses for both of them.

“Love you, Dad,” Lily mumbles, already half-asleep.

“Love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you, Dad. Love you too, kinda Dad,” Junho adds.

Minho’s voice catches slightly. “Love you too, Junho.”.

Later, in their room, Minho finds Jisung looking at his phone.

“What’s that?”

“Photos from today. Look.”

A selfie from the blanket fort—all four of them crammed together, smiling. 

“We look ridiculous,” Minho says.

“We look happy.”

“Yeah. We do.”

They get ready for bed in comfortable silence. When they finally settle under the covers, Minho pulls Jisung close.

“Do you remember,” Minho says quietly, “that day in the principal’s office? When I was so sure we’d never get along?”

“I remember thinking you were the most uptight person I’d ever met.”

“I thought you were a chaotic demon.”

“I am a chaotic demon.”

“I know. I love it now.”

Jisung turns in his arms so they’re face to face. “What changed? When did you stop seeing me as chaos and start seeing me as… this?”

Minho thinks about it. “The birthday cake, maybe. When you tried not to ask for help but still listened to me like it was the gospel. Or maybe before that. Maybe it was always happening and I was too scared to notice.”

“I was terrified of you for so long.”

“Of me?”

“Of how much I wanted you to notice me. To care. To see me as more than just Junho’s disaster of a dad.”

“I never thought you were a disaster.”

“Liar.”

“Okay, maybe a little. But a beautiful disaster.”

“That’s the cringiest thing you have ever said.” 

Minho flicks Jisung’s forehead in retaliation. 

They lie there in the dark, legs tangled together, breathing in sync.

“Jisung?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being patient with me. For letting me figure this out at my own pace. For not giving up when I pushed you away.”

“You’re worth the wait. You’re worth everything.”

Minho kisses him,  full of everything they’ve built together. When they break apart, his eyes are bright.

“I love you,” Minho says.

“I love you too.”

“Every day?”

“Every day. Forever.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Beyond the windows, the city keeps moving. In the quiet of the apartment, their small family sleeps, steady and at peace. Jisung stays awake,thinking about how easily things could have gone another way. How anger and pride almost closed this door before it ever opened. And how choosing to stay, to try again, can turn a rough beginning into something steady enough to last.

How sometimes, love finds you in a principal’s office when you’re both defensive and tired and certain you won’t get along.

How sometimes, that’s exactly when you need it most.

He falls asleep wrapped around Minho, in their shared bed, in their shared home, surrounded by the evidence of their shared life.

And for the first time in years, the future doesn’t feel scary at all.

It just feels like home.