Chapter Text
The first time Taehyung held Hana, he was struck by a misalignment of weight. The nurse passed her into Taehyung’s arms, and just like that she was his. He already knew this would be no small thing—but she herself was. She was so tiny she was hardly even there.
He looked up in disbelief at Jeongguk, who stood beside the rocking chair where Taehyung sat in the hospital, but there was nothing for either of them to say. Twenty-four hours ago, Taehyung had an estranged sister, whom he distantly knew was expecting her first child, but now he didn’t have any kind of sister at all. What he had was a baby.
Jeongguk’s hand was on his shoulder, his thumb rubbing back and forth just to remind Taehyung he was there, while Taehyung stared down at the new human in his arms. His sleeves were still damp from the storm outside, but she rested within them anyway. The thought that this little life now depended on him was so unexpected, so overwhelming, that his mind emptied with it, too big to understand.
—
The first time Hana held Taehyung was three months later. She hooked her fingers around his thumb while he fed her, trying and failing to stay awake as she finished her bottle. Taehyung smiled at her sleepy face and realized he had it all wrong. It was his life that would depend on her.
He looked up in disbelief at Jeongguk, who was sitting on the other side of their apartment couch, but he couldn’t see Jeongguk’s face behind the bulk of his camera. Taehyung couldn’t recall if Jeongguk had grabbed it from his room or if he hadn’t ever put it away after work, but either way Taehyung was glad it was there. He was glad Jeongguk was there, and he wanted that part captured too.
Jeongguk’s hand was on shoulder, his chin on the crook of his neck, in the picture the three of them took that night. The angle was a little lopsided, because so was the pillow Jeongguk had perched it on when he set the timer and moved into frame. Hana still loosely gripped Taehyung’s finger even in sleep, and his chest sang with this new joy, too big to understand.
—
“Sweet potatoes for my sweet girl.” Jeongguk is still in his pajamas and has a pack of pureed sludge in one hand, an orange-covered spoon in the other. Taehyung watches him feed Hana a bite as he walks in the kitchen. “I made your tea, hyung,” he calls out.
Taehyung transfers the baby bag slung across his shoulder onto the kitchen table. It’s freshly stocked with all the items she’ll need for the day, and it’s heavy as hell. There’s lots of carrying involved with babies, Taehyung has learned. Between lugging around strollers and car seats and pack-and-plays, plus Hana herself, the last nine months have given him new definition in his arms, even without being able to make it to the gym very often.
He reaches for the tea on the counter and takes a sip. “What would we do without you, Jeongguk-ah?”
“Thank your angel that you’ll never know.”
Taehyung does just that—though it’s certainly not the first time, because he is not under any delusions that he could’ve kept Hana alive this past year without Jeongguk’s help. The beginning was the hardest; grieving his sister, struggling with their complicated relationship, working through the first steps of the relative adoption process, and most of all, caring for an infant. It’s a difficult undertaking in even the most prepared circumstances, and with no warning whatsoever, it was damn near impossible.
It was Jeongguk who took at least half of her nighttime feedings. It was Jeongguk who went with her to the doctor for her one-month shots when Taehyung couldn’t get the day off work. It was Jeongguk who ran to the pharmacy when her ear got infected, who helped keep her still as Taehyung put the antibiotic drops in, who held Taehyung afterwards while he cried from relief, thankful that she was finally comfortable enough to sleep. Taehyung often wonders which endangered species he saved in his past life, because that’s the only explanation for how he ended up living with Jeongguk, the human embodiment of all the goodness the world has to offer.
Jeongguk is feeding her another bite when there’s a knock at the door and Hana looks to the noise, turning her head right as the spoon is about to enter her mouth. Sweet potato gets smashed all over her cheek, and Jeongguk sighs and goes to wipe it. Taehyung’s heart does a happy little skip. They look so precious together in the mornings, with their matching bedhead and faces still a little puffy, his best friend and his best girl.
“Good morning, love of my life! My perfect darling! My baby bear!” Jimin rushes in, bursting across the threshold with an enthusiasm that should be illegal for 6:30 in the morning.
“Good morning to you too,” Taehyung says with a smirk, knowing full well what Jimin meant.
“I wasn’t talking to you.” Jimin pulls Hana up and into his arms and gives her a smacking kiss on the forehead. She looks a little dazed to have been taken from her breakfast so abruptly, but she doesn’t protest. She’s a good baby like that, always has been. Taehyung offers a silent thanks to his angel for the second time that morning.
“She needs a diaper change,” Jeongguk says, handing the remnants of the mash to Taehyung. She ate most of it already, healthy eater that she is. He likes to think she gets that from Jeongguk. “I’m gonna go get dressed before Yoongi hyung kills me for being late again.”
“Just distract him with some new pictures of Hana and you’ll be fine.” Jimin calls behind him as Jeongguk disappears into his room.
When Jimin turns back towards the kitchen, what Taehyung sees is a study in contrast. Hana’s face next to Jimin’s is soft and guileless, baby eyes devoid of agenda or ambition. And then there’s Jimin, whose grin is sharp and gaze is focused. “Guess who I saw yesterday.”
Not this again. “No.”
“No you won’t guess, or no in general?”
“Correct.” Taehyung scoops the last bit of her breakfast and feeds it to her, still in Jimin’s arms, and then puts the empty bowl in the sink.
“He’s getting a PhD in biology and he has dimples, Taehyung. You two would make the most beautiful babies.”
“I already have a baby, and she already is beautiful.” He gives Hana’s cheek a little squeeze, because no mere mortal can be expected to resist the urge when it arises.
“Taehyung-ah, he looked so good it caused me actual physical pain.” Jimin injects such melodrama into his tone that Hana twists her torso to watch him. “He was wearing this mint cardigan over this white shirt and his chest looked so good and his arms looked so good and—ugh, then he was explaining his blowpipe technique, and it took everything in me not to say something inappropriate for the workplace.”
“I’m proud of you. What’s a blowpipe?”
“Namjoon does glassblowing in his spare time. Glassblowing, Taehyung! He literally spends his Saturdays in something he calls a ‘hot shop.’” Jimin air quotes it with one hand, the other bouncing Hana. “Honestly it’s so on-the-nose it’s not even worth making a joke. Feels too cheap.”
“Jimin, if you think he’s so great, you date him.”
“Nope. No more fooling around with anyone from the university. I still can’t show my face on Jia’s side of the building since the incident in the studio.” Jimin shudders, remembering, before his face brightens again. “But we can’t let a good man like that go to waste, so I'm generously gifting him to you to become the father of your future children.”
“Please give me back my current child.” Taehyung holds his arms out for her, and she does the thing where she leans forward, propelling herself into his hold and expecting him to catch her. The first time she did it Taehyung was so stunned by the complete trust that he almost teared up, and even now it still makes him feel warm and melty. “Namjoon isn’t even in the dance program, Jimin. It’s not the same thing.”
Jeongguk emerges from his room, changed into work clothes, a pair of nice pants and a button-down. Today is the last day of a long week where he and Yoongi have been shooting at a corporate event. Jeongguk isn’t as passionate about these kinds of jobs, and he definitely isn’t passionate about wearing clothing that can’t double as workout attire or pajamas, but Taehyung enjoys the occasions where he gets to see his friend dressed up. The pants hug his muscular thighs like they were designed with his exact proportions in mind. “Who’s Namjoon?”
“No one,” Taehyung says, at the same time Jimin says, “Taehyung’s boyfriend.”
Jeongguk coughs a bit and reaches into the fridge to grab his water bottle. He takes a sip before saying, “I didn’t know you were dating someone, hyung.”
The look on Jimin’s face is particularly smug, and Taehyung wants to smack him, but he tamps down on the impulse because he doesn’t want Hana to learn that behavior from him. She’s been doing a lot of copy-catting lately, absorbing everything he and Jeongguk do like a brilliant, squishy little sponge. “I’m not. Please ignore him.”
“Okay, forget dating then. Just meet up with him to have some fun. Let loose, do something that doesn’t involve the baby shark or fingerpaints.”
“Hana is too young for fingerpainting, she’d just eat the paint,” Jeongguk says, and Taehyung points to him and adds, “Exactly”—as though that’s what they’re arguing. Jimin is not deterred.
“Namjoon is perfect, Taehyung-ah.” He crosses his arms. “When is the last time you got laid?”
“Jimin, I appreciate your longtime personal investment—one might even say obsession—with my sex life, but I really can’t be a boyfriend right now. Hana is my priority, and there’s no one I want to focus on besides her.”
The mischief in Jimin’s eyes has not dimmed in the slightest. “No one? Not a single option out there in the universe that could interest you? Not even someone who might help you with Hana, be like another dad to her?”
“Nope.” Where could Taehyung even find the right person for that? How would he even have the time?
“You can’t see yourself with anyone whatsoever?”
Taehyung just glares in response, unwilling to further indulge the conversation. After a long and unexpected year, things have finally settled. Between Jeongguk and Hana and the rest of their friends, he has everything he needs already. It hasn’t been easy, but he’s happy.
Jimin stares back at him in defiance, just as silent and stubborn, while Jeongguk fidgets. It takes Jimin a good ten seconds to concede that Taehyung isn't going to budge, and he sighs. “Fine. When your dick has finally shriveled up, don’t come crying to me. I will not be responsible for reviving it, no matter how much you beg.”
Taehyung scoffs, and Hana, tired of not being the object of Taehyung’s attention, reaches out to pat his cheeks. He tickles her stomach. “Uncle Jimin is so silly, isn’t he, Hana-yah? He’s gonna give us a ride to Uncle Jin’s, but this is the price we pay.”
Jimin rolls his eyes, and Taehyung is relieved the discussion is over.
Until he hears a quiet, “I’ll meet him.”
Three heads turn towards Jeongguk. “What?”
“I said,” Jeongguk focuses his gaze at Jimin and speaks with a little more purpose. “I’ll meet him. This is the guy from school you’re always talking about, right? I don’t mind being set up. You said he’s perfect, so why not?” Jungkook shrugs. “If you think he’d like me too, I mean.”
Everything is still for a moment. Jimin is looking over at Taehyung as though he has some kind of answer as to whether or not Namjoon would be interested.
“Of course,” Jimin finally says, springing forward towards Jeongguk, hands rubbing his arms to soothe. “Of course he would, Jeongguk-ah! He would love you—everyone loves you, bun. I think you guys would get along great, actually.”
The flush spreading across Jeongguk’s cheeks makes him look young, and Taehyung distantly remembers Jimin saying Namjoon is older.
“I’ll see him this week at our meeting for the grad student union, and I’ll tell him about you and give him your number.”
“Yeah, that sounds great, hyung.”
Jimin claps his hands together and looks at Taehyung. “Well, that worked out, huh, Taehyung-ah? Now you can focus on Hana, and Jeongguk—” Jimin raises his eyebrows suggestively “—can focus on Namjoon.”
Taehyung is officially tired of talking about this guy. There’s no one who loves and appreciates Jimin more than Taehyung, but he has to fight down his annoyance at how Jimin can be so pushy sometimes. Even if it comes from a place of care.
“Hana needs a change,” Taehyung says, officially done with talking about this. “Then we can go to Jin hyung’s.”
Jin is another godsend for Taehyung. He babysits Hana twice a week, so Taehyung only has to pay for three days of daycare, and less on weeks when Jeongguk is editing at home. Right after Hana was born, Taehyung had to face the possibility that he might have to quit his job to find something more flexible, but between Jin and Jeongguk, they’ve been able to make it work.
“Don’t forget to grab her tiger plushie before you guys head out.” Jeongguk gathers the camera bags piled by the door, puts on his shoes. “It’s still in her crib.”
“I’m picking up chicken on my way home, Jeongguk-ah! To celebrate the end of your shoot.”
Jeongguk smiles. “That’s perfect. See you tonight.” He steps forward to give Hana a kiss on the cheek and then opens the door.
Jimin waits until it closes again before saying, “Did I tell you Namjoon has names for each of the bonsai he lovingly raises?”
“Go blow a pipe, Jimin.”
—
As soon as Taehyung hangs up with the bakery, he calls Jeongguk, who picks up on the second ring.
“I got raspberry and vanilla, with purple icing.” Taehyung idly clicks the pen in his hand, straightens the random sketches scattered on loose pages across his workspace. It doesn’t really make much of a difference in the overall sense of clutter. “Not that it matters, because she’s just gonna smash it all over her face within half a minute anyway.”
“That’s the idea.” Jeongguk is a little out of breath; he’s probably lugging equipment around for whatever they’re doing today. Something for a commercial, Taehyung remembers. “When are we picking out her hanbok?”
“I ordered a few options that should come in by this weekend. Too many options, really, but I couldn’t help myself. They’re all gonna be cute, so be emotionally prepared for that.” Just imagining Hana in her hanbok makes Taehyung buzz with excitement. Not to mention all the adorable pictures he knows Jeongguk will get. “But back to the cake for second. It’s probably gonna be hectic getting the apartment ready that morning, so I think we should grab it from the bakery the day before. The problem is the owner just told me they’re closing early that afternoon, and I won’t be able to get there on time from work—are you free to pick it up?”
“Hold on, let me look at my calendar. Remind me of the date again?”
“The day before her actual birthday.” Taehyung waits as Jeongguk presumably clicks through the schedule on his phone. While he does, there’s a clatter on Taehyung’s desk as Hoseok plops himself on it, rattling his monitor and toppling his framed picture.
“Yeah, I’m not booked for anything, I’ll just be working at home. I can do it.”
“Perfect, thank you, Jeongguk-ah.” Taehyung watches as Hoseok picks up the frame and sets it back upright. “Hoseok is here, I gotta run.”
After Jeongguk says goodbye, Taehyung hangs up the phone and finds Hoseok now entirely perched on the desk, cross-legged and resting his chin on his hands. Taehyung starts pulling up the logo files they’re meant to review. They’ve only worked together a few months, but it’s already clear that Hoseok is the best department head they’ve ever had. Not only is he a great boss, but he’s a great designer in his own right, and an even better person.
“Was that your husband on the phone?” Hoseok asks before Taehyung can say anything about the logos. There’s a knowing grin on Hoseok’s face, and for whatever reason, it makes Taehyung feel unsettled.
“Husband? What?” Taehyung huffs out a laugh, or a sound adjacent to that. “I don’t have a husband. Where on earth did you get that from?”
“The guy you’re always talking to about Hana? The one who you live with?”
“Jeongguk? As in... Jeon Jeongguk?”
“Yes?” Genuine puzzlement clouds Hoseok’s expression. He reaches behind him and holds out the picture he had knocked over earlier. “This guy. You aren’t married?”
For whatever reason, the question throws Taehyung entirely off his axis, and the gears in his brain grind to a halt. He stares down at Hoseok’s lithe fingers curling around the frame.
The night the picture was taken wasn’t particularly eventful, but Taehyung realizes now that’s what had made it so precious. It was long enough after Hana was born that Taehyung and Jeongguk were finally getting sufficient sleep to feel human again. The shock of Haeun’s death had passed, transformed into a sturdier grief, but so too had the shock of having an infant in his arms, and the terror that he couldn’t do this.
When that fear had quieted, he realized what had grown alongside it: an inexplicable love for this fragile creative, a pure and unconditional thing he never could have imagined before he knew her. And Jeongguk was there beside him for all of it, in every way a person could be. From the moment he had gotten the call from the hospital, to the frenzied trip to a baby store so they could buy what they needed to get her home, through all the challenges of learning what it took to keep a wholly dependent human alive—right up to that night in the frame.
Jeongguk had made dinner and then Hana’s formula. They’d put on a Ghibli movie, volume low, while Taehyung gave her the bottle. His legs tangled with Jeongguk’s over the couch, Jeongguk fiddled with his camera, the gentle piano of the film score played—and then Hana grabbed his finger. It was a small thing but it had meant everything, and they knew it right away. And so they’d memorialized it with a slightly uneven, hastily shot photograph that Taehyung treasures.
But looking at it now through Hoseok’s eyes, Taehyung sees something new. Not the story he knows from having lived it, but the story someone else might imagine without any context. He sees partners and the baby they chose to raise together. The way Jeongguk wraps around him, the way they both wrap around Hana. It’s strange to think this version of them can exist in someone’s mind, that it has existed for Hoseok. Taehyung’s stomach flips at the foreignness of the thought.
“Oh gosh no.” He isn’t sure if he’s talking to Hoseok or to himself. “No no no.”
Hoseok’s face has cleared, as though he now understands. “Oops, my bad! Not husband. Boyfriend. Got it.”
“Not that either. Just my best friend.” How did they get here? Taehyung feels like he’s lost control of this conversation somewhere along the way. “We were random roommates freshman year of college, and we’ve lived together since then. He’s been wonderful helping me with Hana, but we’re just best friends.” Did Taehyung say that already? He can’t remember. “That’s all.”
“Sorry sorry, I shouldn’t be assuming! How embarrassing of me.” Hoseok seals his mouth up with his hands. “Please ignore me, it’s been a long day on these revisions. Is there anything worse than when a client knows what they don’t want, but has no idea what they do want? Let’s take a look at those logos so we can get them out of our hair.”
“Sure,” Taehyung says, but he still feels off-center. Hoseok hops off the desk and pulls over an actual chair, and he sits with him while they make their edits together. It takes them a few hours, and Taehyung is relieved to refocus. He does not let himself look at the photo again for the rest of the day.
—
“Over here, Hana-yah!” Taehyung shakes Hana’s favorite rattle an inch away from the camera Jeongguk holds.
Taehyung has spent the last half hour looking like an idiot, making silly noises and funny faces, cooing and baby-talking and doing ridiculous dances. But he doesn’t care. There’s nothing he won’t do to get his baby girl to smile. And that’s true every day, but it’s especially true today, taking her 1-year pictures.
Taehyung is planning to get a few prints to hang up at her first birthday party in just a month, and he wants to make sure she’ll always have plenty of photos to look back on when she’s older. He imagines himself and Jeongguk years from now at her graduation or her wedding, and he thinks about them as the cheesy parents showing off a picture of her from her first birthday. Look how well she’s grown, they’ll say, from when she was just this tiny thing.
Hana giggles at Taehyung’s antics with the rattle, and Jeongguk clicks away. Shifts a little, clicks some more.
“I think we’re good, Tae.” Jeongguk pauses as he looks through what he’s taken so far. “It’s perfect.” He holds out the display.
Two little teeth poke up from her gums, peeking through the smile that pushes her cheeks up into two fluffy dough balls. Her hanbok hangs a bit long over her arms, like she has sweater paws. It’s so cute it makes Taehyung feel like he’s made of liquid.
“How is she so beautiful all the time?”
“She’s your kid, what did you expect?” Jeongguk says, eyes on the screen as he keeps looking through the photos.
A zing of warmth shoots through Taehyung. He’s not ignorant of the fact that he’s objectively handsome, but these days it feels like more of a fact than something he embodies. Side effect of the demands of fatherhood, probably. It’s nice to hear Jeongguk remind him. “I mean, technically not—at least not how you mean.”
“Same gene pool.” Jeongguk shrugs. “Oh god, this one.” He holds out the camera display again, and in this photo, she isn’t smiling, but instead looking inquisitive and maybe even confused, big eyes round and searching. Taehyung can’t remember what he was doing to elicit that reaction, but it must not have been that amusing. The effect, however, is very endearing.
“Please tell me how we ended up with such a perfect child.” Taehyung lifts Hana up and spins her in his arms. She decides to give her opinion on the matter via a long stream of animated baby babbles, with several instances of “pa” thrown in—for emphasis, he thinks. “You little cherub! The apple of my eye!”
Jeongguk scoffs. “I’ll remind you of that the next time she spits her applesauce all over your shirt. Or when she wakes us up in the middle of the night screaming and won’t go back to sleep without being in one of our beds.”
“Oh, please. Don’t act like you aren’t just as whipped for that shit as I am. ‘Hyung, she just needs a cuddle.’” Taehyung does a high-pitched voice that sounds nothing like Jeongguk, but it gets the point across. “Ugh, we really need to stop doing that. The books say it’s bad.” Not that Taehyung finished any of them. He’d bought a few but then realized it was easier to just search things on parent forums.
“But she’s just so snuggly,” Jeongguk says, almost forlorn. His doe eyes look saddened at the thought, and it reminds Taehyung of Hana. An affection wells up within him, and he can’t help but give Jeongguk a flick under his chin so he stops pouting.
Hana starts fussing in Taehyung’s other arm, and he knows that’s his cue. “Speaking of snuggles, it’s almost naptime, huh, Hana-yah? Let’s get you out of your pretty clothes and into some pajamas.”
She’s changed, fed, and in her crib when Jeongguk starts warming up some stew. He’s the better cook between the two of them, ever since Jin took him under his wing in college. One semester Taehyung had a late design class on Thursday nights, and Jeongguk would go over to Jin’s apartment to eat and learn. He would sometimes stay there overnight afterwards, which always left Taehyung feeling a little lonely when he got home, but it was worth it to have better meals around the house from then on.
If Taehyung’s being honest, Jeongguk is the more thorough between the two of them about house chores in general. But Taehyung has definitely gotten better since having Hana. “I’m putting in some laundry, do you have anything to throw in?”
“Yeah, in my room,” Jeongguk calls over his shoulder while stirring their lunch.
The hamper in the corner of Jeongguk’s bedroom is half-full, and Taehyung empties it into his basket. He notices there’s another pile of clothes on his bed, an unusual thing for Jeongguk, who isn’t one to leave a mess lying around if it can be helped. He also resolutely refuses to notice the photo on Jeongguk’s desk, which matches the one Taehyung has on his desk at work.
Taehyung pokes his head out of the bedroom. “Not the stuff on the bed, right?” He whisper-talks so he doesn’t wake Hana, just a wall separating them. If she doesn’t get a good nap, she’ll be a bear later. And not the cute kind.
“No no, they’re clean, I was just trying them on.” Jeongguk is facing the stove again, and it’s harder to hear him.
“Your leather pants?” Taehyung looks over to the pile and notices a few other items he recognizes as the nicer pieces in Jeongguk’s wardrobe. They haven’t gone out in a few months, what with caring for a miniature human, so Taehyung hasn’t seen them on Jeongguk in awhile. “And your teal silk shirt. Why were you trying on those?”
“Jimin wanted to help me pick out an outfit for tomorrow. He was here yesterday while you were at work.”
“Ooh.” Taehyung does a little clap with his hands and wiggles his eyebrows. “What’s tomorrow? Where we going? Did we ask Yoongi hyung to babysit already? It’s been way too long since we’ve gone out.”
Jeongguk mumbles something but Taehyung can’t hear it. He walks over to the kitchen, laundry basket in hand, so Jeongguk doesn’t have to raise his voice and disturb Hana. He steadies the basket against his hip. “What was that?”
“My date with Namjoon,” Jeongguk says. He peers more closely into the pot as he stirs. The stew is simmering now, and the tendrils of steam float up into his face, turning it red from the heat. “The guy Jimin wanted us to meet. We’re hanging out tomorrow.”
“Oh.” The basket feels a bit heavy, so Taehyung puts it down on the kitchen table. He drops it from a little too high, and it makes a louder thunk than necessary. “Oh yeah, that’s cool. What, um, what are you guys gonna do?”
“Just gonna get drinks. If it goes okay, maybe dinner too. We’ll see.” He shrugs. “Might just come home after. You know me.”
Taehyung does know him. When Jeongguk is surrounded by those he loves, he emanates such an irresistible gravity that the entire universe seems to reorient itself around him. But until he’s comfortable with someone, until he feels safe with them, he can be hesitant.
Jeongguk sighs, still staring at the stove. “I’m kind of regretting agreeing to it, to be honest. You know how it is, I let myself get carried away when Jimin is being… Jimin. Do you, um—” He clears his throat. “Do you think I should cancel?”
Taehyung thinks about all the time Jeongguk has spent in their apartment in this past year, helping Taehyung take care of a child. He thinks about how Jeongguk has consistently prioritized him and Hana above everything else, instead of living the life of a young, beautiful, single man in his twenties. And most of all, he thinks about his conversation with Hoseok, and that picture on his desk and Jeongguk’s. He reminds himself that Jeongguk is not his husband, not his boyfriend, and that he deserves to find one someday if that’s what he wants. That person, Namjoon or otherwise, will be very lucky.
So Taehyung swallows and says, “No no. I think you should go.”
“You do?” For the first time in this conversation, Jeongguk looks at him. His gaze is guarded, and Taehyung doesn’t know what to make of it.
“Yeah. Yeah, for sure, Jeongguk-ah.” Taehyung feels a little breathless as he hoists up the laundry basket again. “You need to get out more. Have some fun, get spoiled a little. Maybe even get swept off your feet.” He raises his eyebrows, trying to make Jeongguk smile.
Instead he just nods.
“You do so much for us, Jeongguk, and you always put us first. But you deserve all the good things for yourself too.”
He nods again. The air around them feels a bit stilted, which isn’t a thing Taehyung often experiences with Jeongguk. He isn’t sure how they got here, but he just wants Jeongguk to know how much he appreciates him. “We love you, you know that, right?”
At last, Jeongguk’s expression opens a bit, a cheeky grin growing on his face. “Do you love me enough to let me pick the movie later?”
“Sure, Jeongguk-ah. I’ll even let you wipe your nose on my shirt when you start crying halfway through.”
“You always let me do that.”
“Yeah, I do.” Taehyung sighs. “I can’t help it.”
After lunch they watch the movie, and when the main characters finally meet after years apart, he can’t help but let Jeongguk hide his sniffles in his neck. He can’t help but make the popcorn to save Jeongguk the trouble of using their finicky microwave. He can’t help but go a little breathless when Jeongguk’s nose crinkles up in a laugh at whatever is happening onscreen. And he can’t help but rest his head on Jeongguk’s shoulder as he feels himself drifting to sleep.
—
A soft commotion from outside Taehyung’s bedroom wakes him from a restless sleep.
Taehyung is in his pajamas but not really in bed. He grimaces at the taste in his mouth, the result of not having brushed his teeth, and he’s lying on top of his bed’s actual comforter, a thin blanket covering him instead.
Awareness comes back in waves. The first was that he hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He doesn’t remember turning off the bedside lamp, or closing his laptop, or grabbing the blanket from the couch. Jeongguk must have done those things for him when he got home.
...When he got home from his date. With Namjoon.
When Taehyung remembers, it feels a little like someone threw an icy water balloon right into the middle of his face. The impact of it is a physical thing, stinging like a smack, and then there’s the cold spreading down his body.
Jeongguk had left in late afternoon, looking polished and dashing in the outfit Taehyung had seen on his bed yesterday. Taehyung expected Jeongguk would be back before the sun had set. But it had gotten dark, then it had gotten late, and Jeongguk still wasn’t home. At first Taehyung had just felt a bit unsettled, but as time passed and Jeongguk still hadn’t walked through the door, a knot had formed in Taehyung’s stomach, and it had grown until he was sick with it.
He’d put Hana down for the night in the crib which stood nearby his bed, and he had sat down with the intention of watching an anime to distract himself. (He eventually did put one on, but not until after he’d spent a solid half hour stalking Namjoon online, which had just made him feel even more like throwing up.) At some point during the eighth or ninth episode, Taehyung had fallen asleep. Jeongguk was still not home. He hadn’t even sent a text.
Taehyung sits up and rubs his face. The clock on his phone says it’s just after 3:00 in the morning. He peeks over the edge of Hana’s crib to make sure she’s still breathing—because even a year later he still worries sometimes—and he sees that she isn’t in there. Jeongguk must have grabbed her when he came in to turn off the lights. Lately she’s had a habit of waking up for a witching hour in the middle of the night. Taehyung should probably look up why that could be, and he will, as soon as he feels like he won’t be puking up his dinner.
A part of Taehyung wants to stay in his room, to shove all these confusing feelings under his pillow until the morning, once he’s hopefully regained some sense. But if Hana is awake, he should check on her, and so he gets up.
It’s dark in the family room when Taehyung walks out, but there’s a pane of light splayed across the floor coming from Jeongguk’s door, which is just slightly ajar. Before he can open the door to Jeongguk’s room, he hears his best friend’s voice—not quite a whisper but subdued.
“There you go, sweet girl. Fresh and clean. Feel better?”
Taehyung still doesn’t step in the room, but instead watches from the shadow of the door as Jeongguk throws a diaper into the bin below his desk. Atop it, Taehyung sees through the open slit, is Jeongguk’s copy of their family picture, and it makes Taehyung feel even more fond as he watches Jeongguk sit Hana up on his bed, where he must have been changing her. The blanket from her diaper bag is laid out below her, and his hands support her sides, as he kneels on the floor facing her. She reaches forward and taps on his face. Jeongguk giggles. Taehyung is almost hesitant to interrupt the moment.
“I wanna talk to you for a minute, Hana-yah, okay? This is important, so listen well.”
The sincerity and seriousness in Jeongguk’s tone makes Taehyung pause before walking in.
“You know, it feels like it was just yesterday we brought you home from the hospital. You were thissss big,” Jeongguk singsongs, holding out his thumb and pointer finger with a small space between them. Taehyung can hear the smile in Jeongguk’s voice. He steps further into the shadows, angles his body so he can listen better without being seen. He’s not sure why he feels like he needs to hide... but for whatever reason, he does.
“Your appa had no idea how to be a father then. Neither of us did. It makes me laugh to think back to those first nights, how completely clueless we were. But it wasn’t very funny then, was it? It was scary.”
He’s right, Taehyung remembers. The unfamiliarity of even the simplest tasks felt staggering then.
“But look at us now, and what a big girl you are! How well you’re growing. How smart you’re getting, how good you are. I’m so proud of you I could cry.” Taehyung can’t see Jeongguk’s face from where he’s standing, but he can see how Jeongguk leans closer to Hana. It’s almost like he’s telling her a secret, and for a second his voice goes even softer. Taehyung can barely make out his words. “Sometimes when your appa isn’t around, I do. Just a little bit. I’ve always been a sap, I can’t help it.”
The sound of Jeongguk’s quiet laugh digs a hollow in Taehyung’s chest. He knows he should either go back to his room or just walk into Jeongguk’s, but he can’t bring himself to do either.
“I know I’m not your appa, not really. And as we get older, our lives might change. We might not get to live together forever, like we do now. So there’s something I need you to know.” Taehyung’s heart is suddenly trying to break its personal record for beats-per-minute, and he doesn’t understand why.
Jeongguk speaks slowly when he says, “No matter what happens, Hana-yah, I will always, always love you.”
Taehyung sucks in a breath. The water balloon feeling is back, the impact of it no lesser, but this time it’s warm instead of cold.
“I want you to know that, sweet girl. I want you to know that I love you completely, and I’m not sure I even have the right words to tell you how much.”
He pauses to place a kiss on top of her feathery hair, then faces her again. “I promise that I will always be there for you. I will hold your hand through everything you have to face in this life. I will protect you and make sure you always have what you need. I will never let you forget how loved you are. And I will never, ever let you down, you understand?”
Hana’s little hands pat his cheeks, as if to assure him she knows exactly what he means. Once she’s accomplished that, she moves to grab a fistful of his hair. The blur in Taehyung’s eyes makes it difficult for him to see as Jeongguk extracts the strands from her chubby fingers.
“You will always be my sweet girl.” The words sound shaky, fragile. “Not a single thing in this world or outside of it has the power to change that. Okay, Hana-yah?”
The blur clears as the tears spill over Taehyung’s cheeks. He can’t even bring himself to wipe them, too overcome to move whatsoever.
Hana, predictably, turns her attention from Jeongguk to the nearest thing she can play with, which is the blanket underneath her. She lunges for its hem, and Jeongguk steadies her. “We’ll have this conversation again when you’re older, okay? I just wanted you to know now, too.”
Jeongguk scoops her up and stands. “Let’s get you back to bed.”
It finally occurs to Taehyung that he can’t continue to stand here like this, waiting to be found eavesdropping on this very private moment between them. He’s jolted into motion by the realization, and he rushes back to his room as silently as he possibly can, hardly even breathing.
He practically dives into his bed, pulling the covers over his head and waiting for Jeongguk to walk in. He tries and fails not to panic thinking about whether or not Jeongguk will believe he’s asleep in his current state. But then he hears the sound of the television on low volume coming from the family room, and he knows Jeongguk is out there on the rocking chair, lulling Hana back to sleep. Taehyung’s got time to get his breathing back under control.
The panic abates then, making space for something else. Something far more dangerous. Something that feels a lot like honesty.
Of course he’s in love with Jeongguk. It’s so obvious it’s almost mundane.
It’s impossible to know when it started, he realizes, and frankly he can’t be sure it wasn’t always there in some form. He thinks back to every iteration of themselves since that first dorm room, every pair of Taehyung and Jeongguk, in every school year and every apartment and every job they had cycled through, and each of those Taehyungs knew that they wanted their Jeongguk beside them. Each Taehyung had cherished him.
And that’s never been truer than in the last year. How stupid he feels now, admitting to himself that the tenderness he’d feel watching Jeongguk feed Hana, or rock her, or play with her, or just hold her—it wasn’t just for Hana, but for the arms around her, the person attached to them. A person who loves Taehyung’s baby as much as Taehyung himself! He thinks about the quiet promises Jeongguk made to his daughter, the gentle but fierce devotion in his voice, and it means so much to Taehyung that he aches with it.
With a growing sense of how pathetic he is, Taehyung wonders what it would’ve taken for him to finally get here, if it wasn’t for overhearing that soft confession in Jeongguk’s room. How many more dates with Namjoon would Jeongguk have gone on before Taehyung realized why he didn’t want him to go? He would laugh at the ridiculousness of it all if he wasn’t so focused on trying not to cry.
Taehyung’s breathing has finally evened out by the time Jeongguk brings Hana in and puts her gently back in her crib. With a final kiss on her forehead, he whispers, “Goodnight, sweet girl.” Taehyung replays the words again and again in his head, those and all of the other ones Jeongguk said to her tonight, in the hopes that turning them over and over will weather their edges, until they can’t keep slicing into his chest.