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Seonghwa found himself smoothing down the collar of his shirt for the third time as he stepped into the bright hallway of the little neighborhood school. The walls were lined with colorful paintings of rainbows, handprints, and smiling suns, each one reminding him just how small Mingi still was—even if his son never seemed to stop running and climbing at home.
Mingi clutched his father’s hand as they approached the office, his other fist wrapped around the toy car, a yellow convertible, he insisted on bringing everywhere. “Papa, do I have to stay all day?” he asked, his voice pitched with suspicion.
Seonghwa crouched a little to meet his eyes. “Not all day, Mingi-ya. Just in the mornings. You’ll play, sing songs, and make new friends.”
That seemed to satisfy him for now, though Mingi still pressed close to his father’s leg as the secretary handed over a clipboard full of forms. Seonghwa began filling them out carefully, each line a small step toward this new stage for their family.
When he turned the paperwork back in, the secretary gave Mingi a sticker shaped like a smiling star, which the boy immediately plastered onto the roof of his yellow convertible. Seonghwa smiled softly at the sight—Mingi was already weaving the new memory into something familiar and safe.
Just as he was about to leave, a splash of bright paper on the corkboard caught his eye. It was a flyer, outlined with doodled clouds and balloons, announcing in cheerful letters:
Parents’ Morning Out
Every Tuesday and Thursday, 9 a.m. to noon.
Drop off your little ones for supervised play while you run errands—or simply rest.
Seonghwa’s brow lifted in surprise. The idea of a quiet morning at home, even just twice a week, felt almost too good to be true. He tugged one of the tear-off tabs from the bottom, folding it neatly into his pocket.
On the drive home, Mingi hummed happily to himself in the backseat, his toy car rolling over the arms of his car seat. Seonghwa glanced at him in the rearview mirror and thought about Wooyoung and San—so much energy between the two of them, always bouncing off each other, always demanding attention. Maybe this little discovery could be good for everyone.
And when he added it all up in his mind, it almost sounded like a miracle. On those mornings, Yeosang and Yunho would already be at the elementary school for first and third grade. Mingi would be tucked into his own little pre-K class. Wooyoung and San dropped off at Parents’ Morning Out.
That left only Jongho.
Seonghwa laughed quietly to himself at the thought. Quiet mornings, yes, but not that quiet. Jongho would still be home, toddling after him, announcing every discovery in his booming voice, insisting he was just as big as the others.
By the time they pulled into the driveway, Seonghwa could already picture it—himself trying to sip a cup of tea in peace while Jongho climbed onto the couch cushions, shouting “Papa, watch!” for the tenth time before breakfast was even finished.
That evening, once dinner plates were mostly cleared and the house had settled into its usual chorus of half-finished conversations, Seonghwa pulled the folded flyer from his pocket. “I found something today,” he announced, setting it in the middle of the table.
Hongjoong looked up from where he was helping Yeosang cut up his chicken. His eyebrows crinkled in a concentrated frown as he reached over to grab the paper. Seonghwa watched as his mouth formed the words while he was reading to himself silently.
All of the boys turned their attention to their parents as a silent look of communication passed between them. Finally, after looking at each other, the designated spokesperson—as always—Yunho, cleared his throat.
“So… this means,” he began carefully, eyes darting from Seonghwa to Hongjoong, “that on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Yeosang and I will already be at school, Mingi will be at pre-K, Wooyoung and San will be at this…” He tapped the flyer for emphasis. “And it’ll just be Papa and Jongho at home?”
The table buzzed with whispers, all the boys processing this in their own way. San’s eyes lit up at the thought of new kids to play with, already brimming with questions. Yeosang gave a quiet nod, as if he’d known something like this was coming.
Wooyoung, however, immediately scowled. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. “I don’t want to go. I already have San and Mingi. Why do I need more kids?” His lower lip jutted out stubbornly, his rice bowl forgotten.
Across from him, Mingi’s small hands clutched his yellow convertible tighter, his knuckles whitening. His voice came out as a whisper, trembly and unsure. “Papa… I don’t want to go by myself.” His wide eyes darted between his fathers, already shiny with the threat of tears.
Seonghwa’s heart squeezed. He leaned over, brushing Mingi’s hair back gently. “You won’t be by yourself, Mingi-ya. There will be nice teachers and other kids your age. And we’ll always come back for you.”
Hongjoong reached across the table, placing a steadying hand over Wooyoung’s restless fingers. “And you,” he said firmly but kindly, “don’t need to make up your mind tonight. You don’t have to like it yet. But you do need to try it. It’s not a punishment, Wooyoung-ah. It’s just a chance for you and San to have fun outside the house. There will be toys and games and yes—snacks. No chores.”
That earned a reluctant flicker of interest from Wooyoung, though he quickly masked it with another scowl, sinking low in his chair. Yunho being wise in his eight years of life turned to his younger brother. “Wooyoungie, think of all the people to boss around “ This brought a smirk to Wooyoungs face.
From his highchair, Jongho banged his spoon against his bowl as if to remind everyone he was still the loudest of them all. “I stay with Papa!” he announced proudly, grinning wide.
Seonghwa groaned good-naturedly as rice scattered across the table. “Yes, baby bear.
You’ll stay with me.”
Hongjoong folded the flyer neatly, sighing as he set it aside. “Well,” he said dryly, “at least one of them is happy with the arrangement.”
The whole table chuckled, even Wooyoung cracked a reluctant smile though both fathers exchanged a look that said they already knew: getting the boys through those first mornings would be anything but easy.
That night The nursery buzzed with its usual bedtime chaos—soft lamplight spilling over toys shoved into corners, blankets twisted from too much pre-sleep wrestling, and the muffled sound of giggles that refused to quiet down.
The bunk beds were already filled: Yeosang perched up top, nose buried in a book he stubbornly insisted he could finish before lights out. Yunho sprawled across the middle bunk, humming to himself as he traced shapes on the wall. On the pull-out trundle below, Mingi lay curled around his yellow convertible, eyes wide and heavy with worry.
Across the room, the twin toddler beds sat side by side. San was practically bouncing on his mattress, chattering about how many new friends he’d make. Wooyoung, in sharp contrast, had his back turned to everyone, arms crossed tightly over his chest, a scowl etched into his small face.
And in the corner, Jongho’s crib stood like a tiny fortress, the youngest banging his stuffed bear against the bars in a noisy protest that he was not ready for sleep.
Hongjoong eased himself onto the edge of Mingi’s trundle, brushing the boy’s hair gently back from his forehead. “You’re still worried, aren’t you?” he asked softly.
Mingi’s lower lip trembled. “Daddy… what if I don’t make any friends? What if nobody likes me?” His small voice cracked, fragile as glass.
Hongjoong’s heart squeezed. He leaned closer, voice steady and warm. “Mingi-ya, you don’t have to make everyone like you. Just one friend is enough to make a place feel less scary. And I know you—you’re kind, you’re funny, you love to share. It won’t take long before someone wants to sit beside you.”
He tapped the yellow convertible resting in Mingi’s fist. “And until then, you’ll have your car. That’s a friend too, right?”
Mingi nodded hesitantly, then whispered, “My car’s the fastest.”
Hongjoong smiled, his thumb brushing the smooth plastic. “Did you know… Daddy had a car just like this one when I first met Papa? Same color. Same shape. I drove him around in it everywhere.”
Mingi blinked up at him, surprise flickering through his tears. “Really?”
“Really,” Hongjoong said, his voice softening at the memory. “That little yellow car helped bring our family together. So, if it could do that, don’t you think it’ll help you tomorrow too?”
Mingi let out the smallest laugh, clutching the toy tighter, like it suddenly meant more than just a car. “Then I’ll be okay,” he whispered.
From across the room, Seonghwa paused where he was straightening blankets. He’d heard the whole exchange, and for a moment, his heart swelled with the weight of it—the silly little convertible that once meant freedom for two young men, now a symbol of safety for their child. He caught Hongjoong’s eyes, and the smile they shared was full of quiet history.
“Alright,” Seonghwa said softly, moving over to the toddler beds. San was already wriggling under his blanket, still half-chattering about how fast he was going to run tomorrow.
“You’ll show them all, won’t you?” Seonghwa murmured, tucking the covers snug around him.
San beamed, eyes bright. “The fastest.”
Seonghwa chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to his hair before turning toward the other bed. Wooyoung was still stubbornly curled on his side, arms locked tight across his chest, pretending not to notice.
Seonghwa crouched beside him, keeping his voice calm and low. “Wooyoung-ah,” he began, “are you going to let me tuck you in, or are you still too mad?”
There was no answer, just a loud huff.
Seonghwa leaned closer, resting his arms on the edge of the mattress. “You don’t have to like this plan. But I don’t want you to think for one second that it means you aren’t enough for us. You’re already everything. You and your brothers.”
Wooyoung’s lip wobbled, though he tried to cover it with another scowl. “But… what if they don’t like me?” Seonghwa sighed to himself. It hurt so much to see both of his boys worrying over the same thing even if they acted out loud so differently.
Seonghwa smiled gently, brushing a bit of hair from his forehead. “Then that’s their loss. You’re our Wooyoung. Loud, funny, impossible to ignore. If the new kids don’t see that right away, you’ll just show them.”
He leaned down, planting a kiss on his cheek. Wooyoung squirmed, giggling despite himself, and finally rolled over to face him. “You promise I’ll still be your Wooyoung?”
“Always,” Seonghwa said firmly.
Behind them, San sighed loudly. “Now can we go to sleep? I have a big race tomorrow.” Hongjoong chuckled from across the room where he was switching on Jongho’s light-up mobile, tiny stars spinning across the crib walls. “San, you boys won’t be going until next week. Papa and I still have to fill in some forms before you can go.” San made a stink face and grumbled to himself about his whole life being “nuppin but waitin”
Seonghwa climbed the ladder to the top bunk where Yeosang was pretending to still read, the book tilted just enough to cover his face. Seonghwa gently pulled it down, smiling at his second oldest’s attempt at grown-up seriousness. “Tomorrow you’ll be tired if you keep this up,” he said, smoothing Yeosang’s hair.
“I’m not tired,” Yeosang mumbled, though his blinking brown eyes betrayed him. Seonghwa kissed his forehead anyway. “Goodnight, Yeosangie. You keep the top bunk safe for me, alright?”
Yeosang smiled faintly at the little responsibility and tucked the book under his pillow. “Goodnight, Papa. Good night Daddy”
Hongjoong leaned out from under the bunk bed where he was tucking Yunho in. “ Good night Sangie” Yunho had his blanket pulled up to his nose, only his bright eyes showing.
“You looked after your brother at dinner tonight,” Hongjoong said softly, tucking the blanket snug. “That was very kind of you.”
Yunho’s eyes crinkled at the praise. “I can run faster than San tomorrow,” he whispered conspiratorially.
Hongjoong chuckled, kissing his cheek. “Maybe—but don’t tell him yet.” Hongjoong handed Yunho his favorite stuffed dog toy, a very well loved golden retriever. Before he could lean down to say good night to Mingi, he could hear the soft snores coming from the trundle bed. He motioned to Seonghwa that Mingi was fast asleep.
They both headed towards the toddler beds. Seonghwa crossed to San’s bed, where the boy was still pouting.
“Papa,” San groaned, “next week is forever away.”
Seonghwa knelt down, brushing the blanket smooth over him. “Forever will feel shorter if you sleep,” he teased.
San squinted suspiciously, then let out a tiny giggle. “Fine. But I’m still winning my race.”
“You always do,” Seonghwa said, kissing his hair. “Goodnight, San-ie.”
Hongjoong pulled somethjng from under sans bed. A stuffed dog that was specifically Sans favorite thing in the whole word.
“Shiber!” San explained. “ How did you get under there ?!?”
Hongjoong smiled happy to be the hero in reuniting them. He ruffled sans hair saying “good night San and Shiber”
Wooyoung had also worried himself to exhaustion as he was fast asleep in his own bed when the fathers made their way to him. Just one hand was reached out from his bed into sans clutching sans pillow case. They had tried to separate them to give them their own space with a set of bunkbeds but it seemed like Wooyoung was determined to be side by side always. San never minded so they just let it go with the flow for now.
Last, Hongjoong returned to the crib. Seonghwa was already humming a lullaby, something soft and lilting about butterfly wings, while Jongho’s eyelids drooped. The stars from the mobile spun across the ceiling as his father’s voice carried him under.
Hongjoong tucked the little bear back under his arm. “Sleep well, baby bear,” he murmured. “Keep dreaming loud, just like you live.”
For a long moment, he stood still, looking around the room. Seeing Seonghwa glow in the lamplight’s soft rays and knowing all their boys were safely tucked in made his chest ache with quiet joy. This house of theirs was a home.