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Kim Sunoo loved children.
He loved the way they asked questions no adult would ever dare say aloud. He loved their sticky hands and messy art projects and the dramatic seriousness with which five-year-olds treated absolutely everything. He loved hearing about lost stuffed animals as though they were national tragedies. He loved tying shoelaces and handing out bandaids decorated with cartoon bears.
He even loved the tantrums.
Most days, anyway.
“Minji,” Sunoo said patiently, crouching beside a tiny girl currently starfished across the classroom floor, “if you keep crying because Yejun looked at your glitter glue, I’m going to start crying too.”
Minji sniffled dramatically. “He judged me.”
Across the room, Yejun gasped. “I did not! I just said it looked like a unicorn exploded!”
“That’s judgemental!”
Sunoo pressed a hand over his mouth to hide his smile.
It was barely eight-thirty in the morning and already his classroom looked like a craft store had detonated inside it. Construction paper littered the tables. Markers without caps rolled across the floor. Someone, probably little Rina, had somehow gotten paint on the window.
Again.
“You know what?” Sunoo stood, clapping his hands. “Everybody freeze.”
Sixteen children froze instantly.
Well.
Fifteen children.
Riki continued coloring upside down from his chair.
Sunoo pointed at him. “Riki.”
Riki looked up innocently, giant eyes blinking. “Yes, Mr. Kim?”
“You’re upside down.”
“I’m comfy.”
A few of the children giggled.
Sunoo sighed dramatically. “One day I’m going to ask your guardian what kind of chaos he feeds you for breakfast.”
Riki grinned. “Appa says chaos builds character.”
“That explains a lot, actually.”
The classroom erupted into laughter when Riki did, although most of them didn’t really get what was funny.
Sunoo smiled despite himself and moved toward the whiteboard to start attendance. Outside the large windows of the prestigious kindergarten academy, sleek black cars rolled through the circular drop-off drive one after another.
The school was less a school and more an institution for the terrifyingly wealthy.
Children of politicians, CEOs, actors, professional athletes, and famous musicians, every student at Hyeseong Academy came from a family with enough money to buy islands if they wanted to.
The parents themselves, however, were almost never around.
Most mornings consisted of sleepy children being handed off by assistants in tailored suits or exhausted nannies balancing three phones and iced coffees. Occasionally bodyguards escorted students through the front gates like tiny diplomats.
Sunoo tried not to judge.
He failed sometimes.
Because they were children. Children who lit up whenever a parent showed up personally instead of sending someone else. Children who remembered little things like promises to come to recitals that never happened. Children who acted out because any attention was better than nothing at all.
It broke Sunoo’s heart more often than he liked to admit, which was probably why he had a soft spot for Riki.
Riki was different, not because he was particularly calmer than the others, he absolutely was not, but because somebody always came for him.
Every single day.
“Mr. Kim?”
Sunoo blinked down at the tug on his sleeve.
Riki held up a drawing proudly. It appeared to be a dinosaur breathing rainbow fire while riding a motorcycle.
Sunoo stared at it. “...I have several questions.”
“It’s my appa.”
“Your appa is a dinosaur?”
“He’s old.”
Sunoo had to hold back a laugh. “And he breathes rainbow fire?”
“Only sometimes.”
“Understandable.”
Riki beamed.
Sunoo pinned the drawing onto the board with the others, trying not to smile too fondly.
He’d heard enough from coworkers to know exactly who Riki’s guardian was.
Park Jay. Global superstar. Singer-songwriter. Producer. Tabloid favorite.
The kind of celebrity whose face was impossible to avoid online, though Sunoo honestly didn’t keep up much with celebrity culture anymore.
Apparently, Jay personally picked Riki up every afternoon no matter how busy his schedule was.
Which, according to the teachers permanently addicted to gossip, was almost unheard of for someone with his level of fame.
Sunoo had never met him, though.
He usually handled morning drop-off rotation instead of after school pick-up. And in the mornings, Riki was always brought by one of Jongseong’s friends, a tall, handsome guy named Jaeyun who flirted shamelessly with half the staff.
Not that Sunoo cared.
At least, that was what he told Jungwon whenever his best friend teased him about it.
By lunchtime, Sunoo had survived two glue incidents, one argument about whether penguins had knees, and an emotionally devastating revelation from Minji that her hamster “probably hated her now.”
He considered that a successful day.
“Sunoo,” Jungwon called from the doorway later that afternoon peeking into the classroom, “I need a favor.”
Sunoo narrowed his eyes immediately. “That sentence has never led to anything good.”
Jungwon clasped his hands together dramatically. “Please cover afterschool pick-up duty today.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Mrs. Han went home sick.”
“Still no.”
“I’ll buy you dinner.”
Sunoo paused.
Jungwon pointed accusingly. “Weak.”
“You weaponized food against me.”
“And it worked.”
Sunoo groaned loudly enough to make several nearby children giggle.
“Fine,” he muttered. “But if one of the billionaire parents runs me over with a Mercedes, I’m haunting you specifically.”
Jungwon blew him a kiss before disappearing down the hall.
Traitor.
The afternoon passed quickly after that.
Parents, assistants, and chauffeur arrived in waves once the final bell rang. Children flooded out of classrooms carrying backpacks nearly bigger than themselves.
One by one, they disappeared through the front gates.
Within fifteen minutes, only one child remained.
Riki sat beside Sunoo near the entrance steps, kicking his feet idly.
“Your guardian is late,” Sunoo said gently after checking the time again.
Riki shrugged, though he looked a little disappointed. “Appa’s late sometimes.”
Sunoo frowned slightly.
Nearly an hour had passed.
The late autumn air had started turning cold, and the sky glowed orange with the beginning of sunset. Most of the staff had already gone home.
“You okay waiting a little longer?” Sunoo asked.
Riki nodded immediately. “Appa always comes.”
Something about the certainty in his voice tugged unexpectedly at Sunoo’s chest.
Sunoo checked the emergency contact sheet in his clipboard. Just as he started reaching for his phone, a motorcycle engine roared loudly outside the gates.
Riki jumped to his feet instantly. “Appa!”
A sleek black motorcycle rolled to a stop in front of the school entrance.
The rider pulled off his gloves first, then removed his helmet.
Sunoo froze.
The world stopped.
No.
No, that--
The man standing beneath the streetlights looked older than the boy Sunoo remembered, sharper with broader shoulders and dark hair falling messily over his forehead. Expensive rings glinted beneath the fading sunlight.
But Sunoo would have known that face anywhere.
Park Jongseong.
His first love.
The boy who used to hold Sunoo’s hand beneath classroom desks.
The boy who kissed him behind the gym after graduation rehearsal.
The boy who promised they’d stay together forever.
The boy who disappeared without warning three days after graduation.
The boy who sent a single text message telling Sunoo he never wanted to see him again.
Jongseong looked up, their eyes met, and the color drained completely from his face. “...Sunoo?”
The sound of his voice after all these years hurt worse than Sunoo could have imagined.
Riki looked between them curiously. “You know my appa?”
Sunoo forced his expression still. He had to be professional, polite, and controlled.
Even as his heart felt like it was splitting open inside his chest.
He handed Riki his backpack carefully.
“Your things,” he said softly.
Jongseong still stared at him like he’d seen a ghost.
“Sunoo,” he repeated quietly, almost breathless.
Sunoo ignored the way hearing his name in Jongseong’s voice made something old and aching twist painfully in his chest.
“Mr. Park,” he said formally, “Riki was waiting for almost an hour. Please notify the school in advance if you expect to be delayed.”
Jongseong blinked like he physically recoiled from the coldness in Sunoo’s tone. “I-- right. Sorry. There was traffic after rehearsal and--”
“Have a good evening.”
Sunoo turned before Jongseong could say anything else.
He could feel Jongseong staring at him the entire walk back toward the school doors.
“Sunoo, wait--”
Sunoo kept walking, because if he stopped, if he looked back, he thought he might shatter.
_______________________
Sunoo did not sleep that night.
He tried.
God, he tried.
But every time he closed his eyes, he saw Jongseong standing beneath the streetlights outside Hyeseong Academy, staring at him like the world had tilted off its axis.
“...Sunoo?”
The sound of his voice replayed over and over in his head, warm, breathless, and familiar enough to make Sunoo’s chest ache.
By three in the morning, Sunoo had given up entirely and was sitting cross-legged on his couch in oversized pajamas, aggressively eating convenience store ice cream while Jungwon listened to him rant.
“You know what the worst part is?” Sunoo demanded.
“The fact that your ex-boyfriend became an internationally famous musician while you became an underpaid kindergarten teacher?”
“The audacity,” Sunoo hissed. “The absolute audacity of him acting confused.”
Jungwon hummed thoughtfully. “You mean when he looked like someone shot him?”
“Yes!”
“That part was kind of interesting.”
Sunoo pointed accusingly at absolutely nobody. “Exactly! Why was he shocked? He’s the one who disappeared!”
“You never told me exactly what happened after graduation.”
Sunoo groaned loudly and dropped backward against the couch cushions. “Because it was humiliating.”
Jungwon stayed quiet this time, letting Sunoo continue if he wanted to.
Sunoo stared at the ceiling for a long moment.
“He just vanished,” he said finally, voice quieter now. “One minute we were making plans for the future and the next…” He swallowed hard. “Nothing.”
Years later and the memory still hurt.
Sunoo remembered sitting on his bedroom floor after graduation, staring at his phone until the words blurred together through tears. He remembered trying to call over and over only to realize the number had already been disconnected.
He remembered waiting for days, weeks, months, until eventually waiting became grieving.
“I hate him,” Sunoo muttered.
Jungwon snorted immediately. “You absolutely do not.”
“I do.”
“You looked like you were about to cry when you came home.”
“That was rage.”
“That was heartbreak.”
Sunoo threw a pillow at him.
________________________
Unfortunately for Sunoo’s mental stability, life refused to stop moving just because his first love and biggest heartbreak had abruptly walked back into it.
The next afternoon, he arrived at school determined to act normal. He would be professional. Unaffected. Emotionally stable.
This resolve lasted approximately twelve minutes.
“Mr. Kim!” Riki yelled happily the moment he entered the classroom.
Sunoo barely had time to brace himself before a tiny body crashed into his legs in a dramatic hug.
“Good morning to you doo,” Sunoo laughed softly.
Riki looked up brightly. “Appa said he knows you!”
Sunoo nearly choked on air.
Across the room, Jungwon looked deeply entertained. Sunoo shot him a glare sharp enough to kill a lesser man.
Jungwon grinned.
Asshole.
“What exactly did your appa say?” Sunoo asked carefully.
Riki swung their joined hands absentmindedly. “He said you knew each other a long time ago.”
That was technically true, in the same way that calling a hurricane “bad weather” was technically true.
Sunoo forced a smile. “Your appa isn’t wrong.”
The rest of the school day passed in a blur.
Sunoo tried not to think about afternoon pick-up duty.
Unfortunately, the universe hated him.
“Guess what?” Jungwon announced cheerfully when the kids were all at lunch.
“No.”
“Mrs. Han’s still sick.”
Sunoo slowly lowered his spoon. “Jungwon.”
“And since you covered so well yesterday--”
“Yang Jungwon.”
“Congratulations! You’re officially on afternoon rotation for the next few weeks.”
Sunoo stared at him in horror. “You did this on purpose.”
Jungwon took a sip of coffee. “Can you prove it?”
“You’re evil.”
“I’m invested.”
Sunoo considered murder briefly.
By the time the final bell rang that afternoon, his nerves were completely shot.
Children rushed through the halls excitedly as parents, drivers, and assistants arrived.
The classroom slowly emptied until, once again, only Riki remained.
Unlike yesterday, though, Riki seemed perfectly content waiting.
He sat beside Sunoo at once of the small classroom tables drawing elaborate monsters while humming quietly to himself.
“What is that one?” Sunoo asked after several minutes.
Riki held up the paper proudly. The creature had six eyes, wings, and what appeared to be laser beams shooting from its mouth. “That’s my appa before coffee.”
Sunoo laughed before he could stop himself. Riki immediately brightened at the sound. “You laugh exactly the same as before.”
Sunoo blinked. “...Before?”
“Appa showed me videos.”
Sunoo’s stomach dropped. “Videos?”
“Mhm.” Riki nodded happily. “Old ones when you were in high school.”
Sunoo stared at him.
Jongseong still had those?
Before he could process the horrifying implications of that information, headlights swept across the classroom windows.
A familiar motorcycle pulled into the front drive and Sunoo’s pulse immediately betrayed him.
Riki jumped up excitedly. “Appa!”
Jongseong removed his helmet as he approached this time, clearly hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if Sunoo would walk away again.
Which, admittedly, Sunoo was considering.
Jongseong looked unfairly beautiful in the fading evening light in a simple black hoodie and silver rings with his dark hair messy from the helmet.
His eyes found Sunoo instantly and softened.
Sunoo hated that his chest reacted to that look after all these years.
“Hey,” Jongseong said quietly.
Professional. Be professional.
“Mr. Park.”
Jongseong winced slightly.
Riki, entirely oblivious to the emotional warfare happening around him, shoved his drawing into Jongseong’s hands. “Look! Mr. Kim said your coffee monster form is scary.”
Jongseong looked down at the drawing and barked out startled laughter. “Oh, wow. That’s accurate.”
Sunoo folded his arms tightly. “Riki had a good day today.”
“Good.” Jongseong glanced at him again. “Thank you for staying with him.”
“It’s my job.”
The coldness in Sunoo’s voice clearly hurt.
Good.
It should hurt.
Jongseong shifted slightly like he wanted to say something else. Finally, quietly, “Can we talk?”
“No.”
“Sunoo--”
“I think we should keep things professional.”
The words sounded stiff even to his own words. Jongseong looked like that hurt too.
Riki looked between them uncertainly now. Jongseong noticed immediately. His expression tightened slightly before softening again.
“Right,” he said quietly. “Professional.”
An awkward silence settled between them.
Outside, the evening sky had darkened into deep blue, city lights flickering beyond the school gates.
Riki tugged on Jongseong’s sleeve. “Appa, can we get ramen?”
Jongseong blinked before smiling faintly. “You want ramen again?”
“You promised yesterday.”
“Did I?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds like something I’d do.”
Riki giggled and Sunoo hated how natural they looked together, warm and domestic, like a life that had continued moving forward without him.
Jongseong glanced back toward Sunoo carefully.
“I know things are…” He paused, searching for the right word. “Awkward.”
Sunoo said nothing.
“But thank you for taking care of Riki.”
Again, painfully sincere.
Sunoo forced himself to nod once. “He’s a good kid.”
At that, Jongseong smiled properly for the first time, soft, fond, and utterly proud.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “He really is.”
Something twisted painfully in Sunoo’s chest, because once upon a time, he’d imagined this.
Not fame, not motorcycles, not headlines, just this. Coming home together, picking their child up from school, growing old together side by side.
The grief hit so suddenly Sunoo almost collapsed under it.
Riki grabbed Jongseong’s hand eagerly. “Come on, Appa!”
Jongseong let himself be pulled toward the door before stopping one last time.
His gaze lingered on Sunoo and there was something unsettled in his expression. He looked confused and sad, like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t understand. “...Goodnight, Sunoo.”
Sunoo’s throat tightened unexpectedly at hearing his name said so gently.
“Good night, Mr. Park.”
Jongseong flinched almost imperceptibly at the formality.
Then he left.
Sunoo stood frozen in the empty classroom long after the motorcycle disappeared into the night.
And despite everything, despite the anger still lodged painfully inside him, one thought kept circling endlessly in his mind.
Jongseong had looked genuinely confused, as though he truly didn’t understand why Sunoo hated him.
________________________
Sunoo started seeing Jongseong everywhere.
At first, it felt impossible, then suspicious, then dangerous.
And eventually, terrifyingly normal.
The first time happened three days after their conversation in the classroom.
Sunoo had stopped by a grocery store after work, still dressed in soft beige slacks and a cardigan littered with tiny paint stains from his students. He was standing in front of the produce section trying to decide whether buying expensive strawberries counted as self-care when a familiar voice behind him said, “You still squeeze the fruit like it personally offended you.”
Sunoo nearly dropped the strawberries.
He turned sharply. Jongseong stood there in a black hoodie and baseball cap, one hand pushing a shopping cart with Riki sitting inside it, wearing the most adorable hooded bear onesie.
Riki gasped dramatically. “Mr. Kim!”
Before Sunoo could react, Riki climbed halfway out of the cart like an escaping zoo animal.
“Absolutely not,” Jongseong said immediately, catching him by the hood. “Sit down before you break your neck.”
“But it’s Mr. Kim!”
“I can see that.”
Sunoo stared at them cautiously.
Jongseong looked exhausted. Not celebrity exhausted, not “I stayed up too late at a party” exhausted. He looked genuinely worn down.
There were dark circles beneath his eyes partially hidden by makeup residue, and his shoulders sagged beneath his hoodie like he was carrying something impossibly heavy.
It unsettled Sunoo more than he wanted to admit.
“You shop for groceries yourself?” Sunoo asked before he could stop himself.
Jongseong blinked. “Yes?”
Sunoo shrugged awkwardly. “I don’t know. I thought famous people had assistants for that.”
“Assistants tend to buy the wrong ramen.”
Riki nodded solemnly. “Always the wrong flavor.”
Sunoo snorted unexpectedly. Jongseong looked momentarily startled by the sound before something soft flickered across his face, like relief.
Sunoo hated that he noticed.
“Well,” Sunoo muttered, turning back toward the strawberries, “good luck with your ramen crisis.”
“Wait.”
Sunoo looked back reluctantly.
Jongseong hesitated before holding up a carton from the cart. “Are these still your favorite?”
Banana milk.
Sunoo froze. Because yes. Yes, they were. And they used to drink them together after school nearly every day.
“You remember that?” Sunoo asked quietly.
Jongseong looked almost confused by the question. “Of course I do.”
Something uncomfortable twisted inside Sunoo’s chest.
Riki leaned dramatically across the cart again. “Appa remembers everything.”
Sunoo escaped five minutes later with strawberries he absolutely did not need and heart beating far too fast.
_____________________
The second time happened at a cafe.
Sunoo had been grading worksheets while half-asleep over an iced tea when someone slid quietly into the chair across from him.
He looked up, immediately annoyed. “You’re stalking me.”
Jongseong looked deeply offended. “This is my cafe.”
Sunoo blinked. “What?”
“I come here almost every night.”
The barista waved at Jongseong from behind the counter. “Usual order?”
“Please.”
The barista smiled knowingly before disappearing.
Sunoo narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You should really stop appearing places unexpectedly. It’s bad for my blood pressure.
“You still get dramatic when you’re tired.”
“And you still ignore boundaries.”
Jongseong laughed softly. The sound hit Sunoo harder than expected.
God.
He remembered that laugh.
He remembered lying awake on late-night calls listening to it through cheap earbuds while Jongseong talked about music and dreams and futures they thought they’d share forever.
Sunoo looked back down at the worksheets quickly.
A few moments later, a drink appeared beside his elbow.
Cold peach tea.
Exactly how he liked it, extra honey, no ice.
Sunoo stared at it. “I didn’t ask for this.”
“You looked stressed.”
Sunoo looked up sharply.
Jongseong was watching him carefully, still too observant, still noticing things Sunoo wished he wouldn’t.
“You remembered my order,” Sunoo said quietly.
“You think I forgot anything about you?”
The question landed painfully between them.
Sunoo looked away first.
______________________
The third time happened at a bookstore.
By then, Sunoo had stopped believing the meetings were coincidences.
Until Jongseong held up a children’s astronomy book helplessly and asked, “Do you think a five-year-old would understand black holes?”
“Probably not.”
“Riki insists he’s going to become an astronaut.”
“That’s because you told him space was cool.”
“Space is cool.”
Sunoo sighed dramatically before taking the book from him and putting it back on the shelf. “Come on.”
Jongseong followed him obediently through the children’s section while Riki bounced excitedly beside them.
“This one,” Sunoo said eventually, pulling out a simpler book with colorful illustrations. “Start here first.”
Riki grabbed it instantly. “Stars!”
Jongseong smiled at him so softly it almost hurt to look at.
There it was again. That quiet devotion. That overwhelming gentleness.
Sunoo had spent years imagining Jongseong as someone cruel enough to leave him without looking back.
But every time he saw him with Riki, that image cracked a little more.
Because Jongseong loved that child with his entire heart.
It was obvious in every little thing, such as carrying snacks in his pocket, kneeling to tie untied shoelaces, remembering favorite songs, and listening seriously to every ridiculous story.
Jongseong looked tired all the time.
But never too tired for Riki.
And somehow, that made Sunoo’s resentment harder to hold onto.
_______________________
The park meeting happened next.
Riki spotted him first.
“Mr. Kim!”
Sunoo barely had time to react before Riki crashed into him at full speed from across the playground.
“Woah--” Sunoo laughed breathlessly, catching him. “You’re going to tackle someone into another dimension one day.”
“But I missed you.”
Something in Sunoo’s chest melted instantly.
Jongseong approached slower this time, carrying two convenience store coffees and looking like he hadn’t slept in days. His hair was hidden beneath a beanie, and sunglasses covered his eyes despite the cloudy weather.
Still, several people nearby were already staring and whispering, taking pictures discreetly.
Sunoo noticed Jongseong tensing immediately. His shoulders tightened and his posture changed, a mask sliding carefully into place.
Fame suddenly felt less glamorous up close.
“You okay?” Sunoo asked quietly before he could stop himself.
Jongseong blinked like the question surprised him. Then he smiled faintly. “Yeah.”
The lie was obvious.
But before Sunoo could say anything else, Riki grabbed both their hands excitedly. “Come play!”
Sunoo opened his mouth to refuse.
Riki weaponized his puppy eyes immediately.
Sunoo lost the battle instantly.
Twenty minutes later, he somehow found himself helping Riki build a crooked sandcastle while Jongseong laughed nearby every time it collapsed.
At one point, Riki declared, “We look like a family.”
Silence crashed down immediately.
Sunoo’s hands froze in the sand.
Jongseong looked away first.
Riki blinked innocently. “What?”
Sunoo forced a laugh far too quickly. “You’re ridiculous.”
But the words echoed painfully in his chest long after.
_________________________
The convenience store was next.
Sunoo had run out of instant noodles and emotional stability simultaneously at nearly midnight.
He shuffled through the brightly lit aisles in pajamas and an oversized hoodie, exhausted after grading papers until midnight.
Then he spotted Jongseong standing alone beside the refrigerators.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
Jongseong looked awful, positively drained.
There were no fans, no managers, no cameras, just Jongseong staring blankly at energy drinks like he’d forgotten how existence worked.
“You look terrible,” Sunoo said before thinking.
Jongseong laughed tiredly. “That’s an understatement.”
Sunoo rolled his eyes automatically.
The familiarity of it startled them both.
Jongseong rubbed at his eyes. “Sorry. Long week.”
“You should sleep.”
“I’m trying.”
But he said it like sleep was something distant and unreachable.
Sunoo hesitated, then quietly, he said, “...Is work really that bad?”
Something flickered across Jongseong’s face. For a moment, he looked very young and very tired.
“Sometimes,” he admitted softly.
The honesty caught Sunoo off guard.
Jongseong glanced at him carefully afterward. “You always could tell when something was wrong with me.”
Sunoo looked away immediately.
Because he still could.
That was the problem.
______________________
A week later, Sunoo sat beside Riki after school helping him with beginner math homework while waiting for pick-up.
“Three plus four?” Sunoo asked.
Riki frowned intensely at the worksheet like it had personally betrayed him. “...Seventeen?”
“Impressive confidence, wrong answer.”
Riki giggled.
A familiar laugh sounded from the doorway.
Sunoo looked up automatically. Jongseong leaned against the frame watching them quietly. His expression softened so instantly at the sight that Sunoo’s chest tightened painfully.
“What?” Sunoo asked defensively.
Jongseong shook his head once. “Nothing.”
But he kept looking at them like the image meant something precious, like he wanted to memorize it.
Riki immediately held up his worksheet. “Appa, I’m bad at math.”
“You got that from me.”
“You said you were cool in school.”
“I lied.”
Sunoo laughed before he could stop himself.
Jongseong smiled immediately at the sound.
There it was again. That unbearable warmth. That familiarity. That dangerous feeling of slipping backward into something he’d never truly recovered from.
Because despite everything, Jongseong still knew exactly how to make him laugh.
______________________
Then one afternoon, Jongseong didn’t come.
Sunoo frowned at the clock. Ten minutes passed, then twenty. Riki sat unusually quiet beside him, clutching his backpack straps.
Finally, a black SUV pulled into the front drive and three men stepped out. Sunoo recognized them instantly despite the years.
Lee Heeseung, Sim Jaeyun, and Park Sunghoon. Jongseong’s best friends.
They were older now, sharper around the edges, but unmistakably the same people who used to crowd around lunch tables with Jongseong in high school.
Jaeyun smiled first. “Hi, Sunoo.”
Sunoo stiffened slightly. “You remember me?”
“Of course we do,” Heeseung said quietly.
Something about the way he said it made Sunoo’s stomach twist.
Riki brightened immediately. “Uncle Heeseung!”
Jaeyun gave a playful disheartened look. “What? No greeting for me?”
Riki shook his head. “Uncle Heeseung is cooler!”
Jaeyun acted like he’d been shot, making Riki giggle.
Sunghoon crouched to fix Riki’s crooked backpack straps. “Ready to go?”
Riki nodded before glancing around. “Where’s Appa?”
A strange look passed between the three men.
“Work emergency,” Jaeyun said gently. “He’s sorry.”
Sunoo frowned slightly. “Is everything alright?”
“Label problems,” Heeseung answered carefully.
The phrase sounded rehearsed.
Before Sunoo could ask anything else, Jaeyun smiled softly at him. “It’s good seeing you again, Sunoo.”
Then they left.
And after that, Jongseong disappeared.
No pick-ups, no cafe encounters, no grocery store meetings, no late-night convenience store conversations.
Nothing.
Days passed, then over a week, then two.
Every afternoon, someone different picked up Riki. Heeseung, Jaeyun, Sunghoon, and occasionally a driver.
But never Jongseong.
And the absence settled heavily beneath Sunoo’s ribs like something slowly rotting there.
Because the longer Jongseong stayed gone, the more terrified Sunoo became that history was repeating itself.
_______________________
By the third week without Jongseong, Sunoo was miserable.
He tried pretending otherwise. He buried himself in work, stayed late reorganizing classroom supplies that didn’t need reorganizing, graded worksheets twice, and even volunteered for extra morning supervision.
None of it helped.
Because every afternoon, around pick-up time, his eyes still lifted automatically whenever headlights pulled into the school drive.
And every afternoon, it wasn’t Jongseong.
“Mr. Kim?”
Sunoo blinked down from where he’d been staring absentmindedly out the classroom window.
Riki sat at one of the tiny tables coloring quietly.
“You’re sad today,” Riki said matter-of-factly.
Sunoo forced a smile instantly. “I’m just tired.”
Riki frowned in clear disbelief. Children were frighteningly observant.
Before Sunoo could respond, the classroom door opened and Jaeyun stepped inside.
“Ready to go, Riki?”
Riki sighed dramatically as he packed his crayons. “Everybody keeps working.”
Jaeyun laughed softly. “That’s adulthood.”
“Sounds like no fun.”
“It is.”
Sunoo smiled faintly despite himself.
Jaeyun glanced toward him while Riki shoved papers into his backpack.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
The question caught Sunoo off guard. “I’m fine.”
Jaeyun gave him a look that clearly said liar but didn’t push further.
Riki suddenly looked up brightly. “Can Appa come tomorrow?”
The room went strangely still.
Jaeyun hesitated for half a second too long.
“...Hopefully soon,” he said gently.
Something cold settled uneasily in Sunoo’s stomach.
After they left, Sunoo stayed alone in the classroom long after sunset.
Again.
Because going home meant thinking. And thinking meant Jongseong, which inevitably led to memories Sunoo had spent years trying to bury.
Jongseong falling asleep on his shoulder during study hall.
Jongseong grinning breathlessly after sneaking them into late-night movies.
Jongseong holding Sunoo’s face carefully and whispering, “I’m going to marry you someday.”
Sunoo pressed the heels of his hands hard against his eyes.
He was twenty-eight years old. He should not still be unraveling over a high school relationship.
“You look like someone just told you every puppy on earth exploded.”
Sunoo looked up sharply. Jungwon stood in the doorway holding convenience store coffees.
Sunoo sighed quietly. “Please never phrase anything like that again.”
“Good. You’re still alive.”
Jungwon walked inside and placed a drink beside him before sitting across from him at once of the miniature classroom tables clearly designed for children half their size.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then Jungwon said quietly, “You miss him.”
Sunoo laughed weakly. “That obvious?”
“You’ve been staring out windows like a Victorian widow for two weeks.”
Sunoo groaned and dropped his forehead dramatically against the table. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
Silence stretched briefly.
Then, “I don’t understand what’s happening,” Sunoo admitted quietly.
Jungwon stayed silent, letting him continue.
“He disappeared again,” Sunoo whispered. “And I know I should be relieved because I spent years convincing myself I hated him, but instead I feel--”
His voice cracked slightly.
“Panicked,” Jungwon finished softly.
Sunoo nodded miserably.
“My heart keeps telling me one thing.” Sunoo stared down at his hands. “And the worst part is…”
He swallowed hard.
“A part of me believes it.”
Jungwon leaned back in his chair, studying him carefully.
Then bluntly, he said, “You’re still in love with him.”
Sunoo closed his eyes immediately, because hearing it out loud made it real.
He wanted to deny it, wanted to insist that this was unresolved anger or nostalgia or grief.
But every time he saw Jongseong with Riki, every time Jongseong remembered tiny details about him, every time Sunoo caught that exhausted softness in his eyes, something inside him still answered. Something inside him still loved him.
“I never stopped,” Sunoo whispered finally.
The admission felt terrifying.
Jungwon’s expression softened immediately. “Oh, Sunoo.”
Sunoo laughed shakily. “Pathetic, right?”
“No.” Jungwon reached across the table, squeezing his hand once. “Just human.”
Sunoo stared at the untouched coffee beside him. “I need answers,” he said quietly.
Jungwon nodded immediately. “Then go get them.”
_______________________
It took Sunoo three more days to finally ask.
Heeseung arrived for pick-up that Friday evening dressed in an expensive coat and looking exhausted in a way eerily similar to Jongseong lately.
Riki had already run ahead toward the car when Sunoo stopped him quietly near the classroom door.
“Heeseung.”
Heeseung looked back immediately. “Yeah?”
Sunoo hesitated. Then he asked, “Is Jongseong okay?”
Something complicated flickered across Heeseung’s face. “He’s… having a hard time.”
“With work?”
“With everything.”
Sunoo’s chest tightened painfully. Before he could lose his nerve, he asked quietly, “Can you give me his address?”
Heeseung looked genuinely surprised. For a second, Sunoo thought he might refuse. Then Heeseung sighed softly and pulled out his phone.
“He’d want you to come,” he admitted quietly.
The words followed Sunoo all the way home.
______________________
Jongseong’s apartment building sat high above the city skyline like something untouchable, all glass, steel, and luxury polished to perfection.
The lobby smelled faintly of expensive cologne and fresh flowers.
Everything about the place screamed wealth and status and celebrity.
But somehow, it felt cold.
Sunoo stood outside the apartment door for nearly a full minute before finally knocking.
His heart pounded violently.
What was he even doing here?
The door opened and Sunoo’s stomach dropped immediately.
“Chaehee,” he said quietly.
She looked almost exactly the same as she did in high school, beautiful, elegant, and perfectly styled.
Back then, she’d always hovered around Jongseong’s friend group, loud and possessive and constantly hanging off his arm despite Jongseong clearly seeing her as only a friend.
Recognition flashed across her face instantly, then irritation.
“Well,” she said coolly. “That explains a lot.”
Sunoo frowned slightly. “Excuse me?”
“You suddenly showing up again.” She crossed her arms. “Honestly, I thought you’d finally moved on.”
Unease curled slowly in Sunoo’s stomach. “I’m here to see Jongseong.”
“He doesn’t want to see you.”
The words hit harder than they should have.
Sunoo stiffened immediately. “He told you that?”
“Yes.” Her expression sharpened. “You need to stop appearing in his life. You’re only making things harder for him.”
Something about the phrasing made Sunoo’s chest tighten abruptly.
Making things harder for him.
His mind flashed violently backward to a single text message, late at night.
You’re making things difficult. We want different things. Stop contacting me.
Sunoo went still.
Chaehee continued coldly, “Jongseong has responsibilities now. He doesn't need old relationships resurfacing and causing problems.”
Old relationships.
Causing problems.
The exact same tone.
The exact same wording.
Like hearing a ghost speak.
Sunoo stared at her, and suddenly, something clicked. Not fully, not clearly, but enough to send cold realization crawling down his spine.
Because this felt familiar, too familiar.
Chaehee tilted her head slightly. “You should leave.”
Sunoo barely remembered walking away. His thoughts spun violently the entire ride down.
The breakup text.
The phrasing.
The coldness.
The way Jongseong had looked genuinely confused every time Sunoo accused him.
The way Chaehee spoke now sounded almost identical.
By the time Sunoo reached the street outside the building, his heart was pounding so hard it hurt.
No.
No, that couldn’t--
Could it?
Sunoo turned sharply and marched right back inside.
______________________
This time, Chaehee wasn’t there.
Sunoo knocked once, twice, then footsteps approached from inside.
The door opened and Jongseong froze in the doorway.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
Jongseong looked terrible, worse than before. His hair was messy like he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly. Dark circles bruised beneath his eyes. He wore loose gray sweatpants and an old hoodie, looking nothing like the polished celebrity constantly splashed across magazines.
He just looked tired, and heartbreakingly relieved to see Sunoo.
“...Sunoo?”
Sunoo stared at him carefully. No rehearsed expression, no mask, just confusion. Real confusion.
“Can I come in?” Sunoo asked quietly.
Jongseong stepped aside immediately.
The apartment was beautiful but strangely impersonal. Expensive furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows, minimal decorations.
The only signs of warmth were scattered evidence of Riki. Crayons on the table, tiny shoes near the couch, children’s drawings taped carefully to the refrigerator.
Sunoo’s chest ached unexpectedly at the sight.
Jongseong hovered nearby uncertainly. “Is everything okay?”
Sunoo turned toward him slowly. “I came earlier.”
Jongseong frowned immediately. “Earlier?”
“Chaehee answered the door.”
Confusion shifted instantly into alarm. “She what?”
Sunoo watched him carefully. “She told me you didn’t want to see me. That I needed to stop appearing in your life.”
Jongseong’s expression darkened immediately. “I never said that.”
“She also said I was making things difficult for you.”
Jongseong stared at him. Then quietly he whispered, “...What?”
The room suddenly felt unbearably tense. Sunoo’s pulse thundered in his ears. “She sounded exactly like the text.”
Jongseong went completely still. “What text?” he asked softly.
Sunoo laughed once in disbelief. “The one you sent me after graduation. The break-up text.”
“I never sent you any breakup text. And even if I wanted to break up with you, I wouldn’t have done it over text.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
Jongseong stepped closer now, visibly distressed. “Sunoo, I swear to you, I never broke up with you.”
Sunoo’s breathing turned uneven. “Then why did you disappear?”
“I didn’t disappear!”
Jongseong looked horrified. “I spent months trying to contact you!”
Sunoo shook his head immediately. “No. No, you sent me that text and then blocked me--”
“I was blocked first!”
The words crashed between them. Silence followed instantly.
Jongseong dragged a shaky hand through his hair.
“My phone broke after graduation,” he said quickly. “I gave it to Chaehee because she said she knew someone who could repair it. When I finally got a replacement, I was blocked. I was blocked from your social media too. The guys were too.”
Sunoo stared at him. “I did that because I was angry at you.”
Jongseong looked close to panicking now. “I thought you hated me,” he whispered. “I thought I did something wrong.”
Sunoo felt dizzy.
Because Jongseong looked devastated. Not guilty, not defensive, devastated.
“I waited for you,” Sunoo whispered shakily.
Jongseong’s expression cracked instantly. “I waited for you.”
The room fell silent except for their uneven breathing.
And slowly, horribly, the impossible truth began taking shape between them.
The silence inside Jongseong’s apartment felt unbearable.
Sunoo stood near the kitchen island gripping the edge so tightly his fingers hurt.
Across from him, Jongseong looked equally shattered.
Ten years.
Ten years of heartbreak.
Ten years of believing the other person had stopped loving them.
And now, suddenly, nothing made sense anymore.
Jongseong spoke first, slowly and carefully.
“After graduation,” he said quietly, “I was supposed to leave for training in Seoul almost immediately.”
Sunoo swallowed hard but stayed silent.
“My phone stopped working the day before I left.” Jongseong rubbed his hand over his face tiredly. “Chaehee offered to take it to someone she knew who repaired electronics.”
His laugh was bitter now. “She came back later saying she accidentally dropped it.”
Sunoo’s stomach twisted painfully.
“I was pissed, but…” Jongseong shrugged weakly. “I figured it was an accident.”
His voice cracked slightly on the last word.
“I got a replacement phone a few days later and tried calling you immediately.”
Sunoo’s chest tightened.
“But your number wouldn’t go through.” Jongseong looked at him helplessly. “Your socials too. Everything.”
Sunoo stared at him silently.
“I thought maybe you were angry because I left so suddenly for training,” Jongseong admitted quietly. “So I tried contacting you through the guys.”
A humorless laugh escaped him. “You’d blocked all of them too.”
Sunoo frowned immediately. “I didn’t block the guys.”
Jongseong blinked. “What?”
“I only blocked you.”
Confusion crossed Jongseong’s face instantly. “That’s impossible. Heeseung showed me messages failing on his phone too.”
Something cold crawled slowly down Sunoo’s spine. Because if Sunoo hadn’t blocked them, then somebody else had.
Jongseong suddenly looked sick.
“I remember my phone went missing during graduation. And guess who found it. Chaehee,” Sunoo said quietly.
“She had my old phone,” Jongseong whispered.
The realization settled heavily between them.
Sunoo’s hand trembled slightly. Slowly, he pulled out his own phone. “I still have screenshots,” he admitted quietly.
Jongseong looked up sharply. Sunoo opened an old hidden folder buried deep in his camera roll. His thumb shook slightly as he found the image he adn’t looked at in years.
Then he handed the phone over.
Jongseong stared down at the screenshot. Sunoo watched the exact moment recognition hit him. His expression darkened instantly with horror and fury. “Oh my god.”
Sunoo’s pulse jumped. “What?”
Jongseong looked up immediately. “This isn’t how I talk.”
Sunoo nodded. “I thought it was a little strange, but I was a little too heartbroken to look very closely.”
Jongseong handed the phone back shakily. The screenshot read exactly the way Sunoo remembered.
I don’t want to drag this out anymore. You’re making things difficult. We want different things. Stop contacting me.
At eighteen, Sunoo had read those words and believed every single one.
Now, he suddenly heard Chaehee’s voice instead, cold, sharp, and possessive.
Sunoo felt nauseous.
Jongseong was already grabbing his phone.
“Jongseong--”
“No.”
It was the first time in years that Sunoo had heard real anger in his voice. Not irritation, not frustration, anger, raw and shaking.
Jongseong pressed a contact and lifted the phone to his ear.
It rang twice.
“Jongseong?” Chaehee answered lightly. “Did you finally eat something? Because if not, I swear to god--”
“Did you send a breakup text to Sunoo from my phone ten years ago?”
Silence. Complete silence.
Sunoo’s heartbeat thundered painfully in his ears.
Then Chaehee laughed nervously. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t lie to me.”
The coldness in Jongseong’s voice made even Sunoo flinch.
Another pause. Then, “...You really figured it out?”
Sunoo felt like the floor disappeared beneath him.
Jongseong closed his eyes briefly. “It was you.”
Chaehee exhaled sharply through the phone. “Yes.”
The word hit like a physical blow.
Sunoo stared blankly at the marble countertop while years of grief rearranged themselves violently inside his chest.
“You told him I was breaking up with him,” Jongseong said quietly.
“Yes.”
“You blocked him.”
“Yes.”
“You stole his phone and blocked my friends too.”
“Yes.”
Every answer came easier now, like she was relieved the truth had finally surfaced.
Jongseong’s hand shook around the phone. “Why?”
Chaehee laughed bitterly. “Because I love you!”
The sudden outburst echoed loudly through the apartment. Sunoo flinched extinctively.
“I’ve loved you for years,” she continued, voice cracking now. “And all you ever cared about was him.”
Jongseong stared ahead silently.
“He wasn’t good enough for you,” Chaehee snapped. “You were going to become famous and he was just--”
“Don’t.”
The single word came out dangerously quiet.
Chaehee ignored him. “He would’ve held you back! You were obsessed with him and it was pathetic, so yes, I fixed it.”
Sunoo felt sick.
Fixed it.
Ten years.
She had stolen ten years from them.
“You isolated us intentionally,” Jongseong whispered in disbelief.
“I did what was best for you.”
“No,” Jongseong said sharply. “You did what was best for you.”
Silence. Then Chaehee said quietly, “...I thought eventually you’d love me instead.”
Sunoo looked toward Jongseong instinctively and realized he had never seen him this angry before. Not once.
Jongseong’s entire body was tense with rage.
“You really believed that?” he asked quietly.
Chaehee hesitated. “Yes.”
Jongseong laughed once. The sound was sharp and disbelieving. “I have never loved you.”
Sunoo’s breath caught.
“I was never going to love you,” Jongseong continued coldly. “And after this, I never want to see you again.”
“Jongseong--”
“You’re fired.”
Silence crashed through the phone.
Then Chaehee laughed shakily. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am completely serious.”
“You’re choosing him over me after all this time?”
“I have always chosen him.”
The words hit Sunoo like a punch to the chest.
Jongseong’s voice cracked slightly now beneath the anger. “You took ten years away from us.”
For the first time, Chaehee sounded uncertain. “...Jongseong--”
“Don’t contact me again. Don’t come near me again, or I will do something I’ll regret.”
Then he hung up.
The apartment fell completely silent.
Jongseong stood frozen for several seconds staring at the floor.
Then suddenly, he looked small. Not superstar Jay, not the polished celebrity everyone worshipped, just Jongseong. The boy Sunoo had loved since he was thirteen. The boy who looked heartbroken.
“I’m sorry,” Jongseong whispered.
Sunoo’s eyes burned instantly. “You didn’t know,” he said weakly.
“But you spent ten years thinking I abandoned you.”
Sunoo’s throat tightened painfully.
“And you spent ten years thinking I stopped loving you,” Jongseong murmured.
Jongseong looked at him then, really looking this time. “I never stopped,” he whispered immediately.
Sunoo’s composure shattered, because he believed him now, completely.
Every misunderstanding, every silence, every unanswered call, every sleepless night, none of it had been intentional.
They had been stolen from each other.
Sunoo covered his mouth shakily as tears finally spilled over. “Oh my god,” he choked out.
Jongseong crossed the room instantly. “Sunoo--”
“I hated you,” Sunoo sobbed. “I spent years trying to hate you because it hurt too much not to.”
Jongseong’s eyes filled immediately too. “I know.”
“You were my first love.”
“You were mine too.”
The ache in Jongseong’s voice completely undid him. Sunoo cried harder and years of grief came pouring out violently all at once. All the loneliness, all the anger, all the heartbreak.
Jongseong reached for him carefully like he was afraid Sunoo might pull away. When Sunoo didn’t, Jongseong wrapped his arms around him immediately, and Sunoo broke completely.
He clung to Jongseong desperately, crying into his shoulder while Jongseong held him just as tightly.
“I looked for you,” Jongseong whispered shakily against his hair. “God, Sunoo, I looked everywhere.”
Sunoo cried harder, because he had looked too.
They stayed like that for a long time, two people mourning ten lost years.
Eventually, Sunoo pulled back slightly, wiping helplessly at his face.
There was still one thing twisting painfully in his chest.
He looked down quietly. “...What about Riki?”
Jongseong blinked in confusion.
Sunoo swallowed hard. “I thought…” His voice wavered slightly. “I thought you moved on. Got married. Had a family.”
Jongseong stared at him for a second. Then his expression softened completely. “Sunoo.” The gentleness in his voice almost hurt. “Riki isn’t my son.”
Sunoo froze. “What?”
“He’s my nephew.”
The room went quiet again.
Jongseong guided Sunoo carefully toward the couch before sitting beside him.
“My older sister passed away when Riki was a baby,” he explained softly. “There wasn’t anyone else.”
Pain flashed briefly across his face. “So I took custody.”
Sunoo’s chest tightened immediately.
“He calls me Appa because…” Jongseong smiled faintly through tears. “That’s all he’s ever really known.”
Sunoo stared at him. “Seongji died?”
But even that revelation couldn’t bring down the relief in his chest. It crashed through him so suddenly it almost made him dizzy.
No wife. No secret family. No life built with somebody else.
Jongseong looked at him carefully then, almost uncertain.
“There’s never been anyone else for me,” he admitted quietly.
Sunoo started crying again immediately.
Jongseong laughed weakly through his own tears. “Okay, maybe don’t cry harder.”
“You’re stupid,” Sunoo sobbed.
“You still love me.”
The words were soft, fragile, and hopeful.
Sunoo looked at him through blurry eyes.
And after ten years of grief and longing and heartbreak, he finally stopped lying.
“Yes,” he whispered brokenly. “I still love you.”
Jongseong’s face crumpled completely and then suddenly he was crying too. Real crying. Tears streaming down his face as he pulled Sunoo against him again like he never wanted to let go.
“I love you too,” he whispered desperately. “I never stopped. Never once.”
Sunoo buried his face against Jongseong’s shoulder and held him tighter.
And for the first time in ten years, the pain finally began to loosen its grip.
______________________
Sunoo woke up in Jongseong’s bed for the first time in years hours later.
For a long moment, he didn’t move.
Morning sunlight spilled softly through floor-to-ceiling windows, painting warm gold across rumpled blankets and tangled sheets. Somewhere deeper in the apartment, he could hear faint movement in the kitchen.
And for the first time in years, Sunoo felt peaceful.
Not completely. There were still ten years of hurt between them. Ten years they could never get back.
But the ache inside his chest no longer felt hollow.
It felt healing.
Sunoo turned slightly. Jongseong lay asleep beside him, face half-buried in the pillow, dark hair falling messily over his eyes, beautiful, familiar, and home.
Sunoo’s chest tightened painfully at the thought.
As if sensing him staring, Jongseong blinked awake slowly. For a second, confusion flickered across his face, then recognition. Then something unbearably soft. “You stayed,” he whispered.
Sunoo smiled faintly. “You sound surprised.”
“I kind of am.”
The honesty made Sunoo laugh quietly.
Jongseong reached for him immediately, fingers brushing gently against his wrist like he still couldn’t fully believe Sunoo was real.
“I thought seeing you again was impossible,” Jongseong admitted softly.
Sunoo’s heart squeezed.
Jongseong looked at him quietly for a moment before speaking again. “I need you to know something.”
Sunoo shifted closer automatically. “Okay.”
Jongseong’s expression turned fragile. “I never stopped loving you.”
The words still hit Sunoo hard every single time.
Jongseong laughed weakly at himself before continuing.
“Every song I wrote…” He rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “They were all about you.”
Sunoo blinked. “What?”
Jongseong smiled shyly for the first time in years. “You think I’m capable of writing love songs without thinking about my first and only love?”
Emotion clogged suddenly in Sunoo’s throat.
Jongseong looked down briefly before admitting quietly, “Sometimes I’d write lyrics hoping somehow you’d hear them and know they were about you.”
Sunoo’s eyes burned instantly. “That’s ridiculous,” he whispered shakily.
“I know.”
“You’re literally an internationally famous musician.”
“That part’s unrelated.”
Sunoo laughed helplessly through tears.
God.
There he was.
The same Jongseong who used to make him laugh even while breaking his heart open.
Jongseong’s gaze softened immediately at the sound.
“I missed that,” he admitted quietly.
“What?”
“Making you laugh.”
Sunoo looked at him for a long moment. Then finally, honestly, he said, “I never stopped loving you either.”
Jongseong closed his eyes briefly like the words physically overwhelmed him.
When he looked back at Sunoo again, his eyes were shining.
Then suddenly, little footsteps thundered down the hallway.
The bedroom door burst open dramatically. “Appa, I want pancakes--”
Riki froze mid-sentence.
Sunoo froze too.
For one horrifying second, nobody moved.
Then Riki gasped so loudly it was almost impressive. “MR. KIM IS IN YOUR BED, APPA!”
Sunoo wanted the earth to swallow him alive. Jongseong buried his face in the pillow laughing.
Riki launched himself directly onto the bed. “Are you staying forever?” he asked immediately.
Sunoo choked on absolutely nothing. “Riki--”
“Because you should,” Riki continued seriously. “Appa smiles more when you’re here.”
The room went quiet instantly.
Sunoo looked toward Jongseong. Jongseong was already looking at him softly, like Sunoo was something precious. Something found again after years lost.
Riki squinted suspiciously between them. “Are you crying?”
“Yes,” Jongseong answered immediately.
“Gross.”
_________________________
Riki adapted to Sunoo staying in their lives with alarming speed.
Honestly, it was less adapting and more acting like this had always been inevitable.
By the second week, Riki had stolen half of Sunoo’s hoodies even though none of them fit him, started demanding bedtime stories exclusively from Sunoo, and informed multiple people at school that “Mr. Kim belongs to me now.”
Sunoo nearly died when he heard that.
“Oh my god,” Jungwon wheezed over lunch one afternoon. “The child claimed you like a stray cat.”
“I hate all of you.”
“You’re glowing.”
“I’m not.”
“You literally made heart-shaped strawberries for lunch.”
Sunoo looked down at his lunchbox in betrayal.
Traitorous strawberries.
_______________________
Life slowly settled into something warm. Something soft. Something neither of them had expected to have again.
Sunoo started spending more evenings at Jongseong’s apartment than his own.
At first, it felt temporary. Then natural. Then necessary.
He helped Riki with homework while Jongseong cooked dinner disastrously in the background.
“Something smells burnt,” Sunoo called one evening.
“It’s flavor,” Jongseong yelled back.
“It’s smoke.”
“Details.”
Riki sighed heavily from the table. “Appa’s usually good at cooking, but not today.”
“Wow,” Jongseong muttered sarcastically. “Thanks, buddy.”
Sunoo laughed so hard he nearly spilled tea across Riki’s math worksheet.
And every single time, Jongseong looked at him like hearing that laugh healed something inside him.
__________________________
Jongseong started visiting Sunoo’s classroom sometimes too.
The first time it happened, absolute chaos erupted.
Because apparently kindergarteners lost their minds over famous people, even the ones constantly surrounded by them.
“THAT’S RIKI’S APPA!”
“MY EOMMA HAS HIS ALBUMS!”
“ARE YOU RICH?”
Jongseong handled it surprisingly well. Mostly by bribing them with snacks.
Sunoo watched from across the classroom as Jongseong crouched beside a table helping several children color paper stars while Riki proudly clung to his arm.
The sight hit Sunoo unexpectedly hard.
Because this was what he’d once dreamed about.
Not fame or wealth, just this. Warm afternoons, laughter, a family.
Jongseong glanced up suddenly and caught him staring.
His smile softened instantly, and Sunoo realized with startling clarity that he still looked at Jongseong exactly the same way he had at eighteen.
Like love came naturally.
_______________________
A month later, Sunoo stood backstage at one of Jongseong’s concerts for the first time.
The arena roared deafeningly beyond the curtains, staff rushed everywhere, lights flashed, managers shouted in headsets.
It should have felt overwhelming.
Instead, Sunoo found himself oddly focused on Jongseong sitting quietly in a chair while makeup artists fussed around him.
Even surrounded by chaos, Jongseong looked exhausted.
But when he spotted Sunoo and Riki approaching, his entire face lit up.
There it was again. That softness reserved only for them.
Riki climbed immediately into Jongseong’s lap. “Are you scared?”
“Terrified.”
“You sing for like a million people,” Sunoo pointed out.
“Exactly. Horrifying.”
Sunoo snorted quietly.
Jongseong reached automatically for his hand then, simple and natural, like they’d been doing it forever.
His thumb brushed gently over Sunoo’s knuckles.
“You staying for the whole show?” Jongseong asked quietly.
Sunoo squeezed his hand once. “Always.”
Jongseong looked wrecked by the answer.
____________________
As the months passed, the shadows beneath Jongseong’s eyes slowly started fading.
He slept more, laughed more, and came home earlier when he could.
And Riki--
God, Riki thrived.
Sunoo noticed it in little things first. Fewer anxious questions at pick-up time. More smiling. More sleeping through the night according to Jongseong.
One evening while brushing his teeth, Riki announced proudly, “I have two parents now.”
Sunoo nearly inhaled toothpaste.
Jongseong looked equally emotional beside him.
Neither corrected him.
_____________________
Late one night, long after Riki had fallen asleep, Sunoo stood alone by the apartment windows overlooking the city.
The lights stretched endlessly below them, beautiful and distant.
For years, Sunoo had looked at city skylines and thought about loss.
About Jongseong somewhere out there living a completely separate life.
A life without him.
He used to think, He left me.
But now, Sunoo understood something different.
They hadn’t been separated by choice. They had been stolen from each other. Manipulated. Pulled apart by lies neither of them knew existed.
And somehow, despite all of it, they had still found their way back.
Warm arms wrapped carefully around Sunoo from behind.
Jongseong rested his chin against his shoulder sleepily.
“You disappeared. Ten years ago,” Sunoo murmured softly.
Jongseong tightened his hold immediately. “I know.”
Sunoo leaned back against him. “For a long time, I thought you abandoned me.”
Jongseong’s voice cracked quietly behind him. “I’m so sorry.”
Sunoo shook his head once. Neither of them had anything to be sorry about. Not anymore. Not now that they knew the truth.
He turned carefully in Jongseong’s arms and kissed him softly. Not desperate, not grieving, just full of quiet certainty.
Home.
_____________________
Later that same night, the three of them ended up tangled together on the couch after movie night.
Riki had fallen asleep halfway through the film, sprawled dramatically across both of them with popcorn still clutched loosely in one hand.
Sunoo smiled sleepily as he brushed soft hair away from Riki’s forehead.
“He’s heavy,” he whispered.
“He gets that from me.”
“You’re both dramatic.”
“Correct.”
Sunoo laughed quietly.
The apartment glowed softly in the dark, warm and safe.
Jongseong looked over at him with an expression so full of love it nearly hurt.
Carefully, gently, he leaned over and kissed Sunoo’s forehead.
Sunoo closed his eyes immediately.
And for the first time in ten years, he finally, truly, felt at home again.