Chapter Text
“Hyunjin?”
What time is it?
Hyunjin doesn’t even remember picking up his phone; he’s so out of it. He looks at the screen, waiting for what seems like hours before it displays his half-sister’s contact and a tiny number reading 0:27 seconds.
He’s been on the phone for twenty-seven seconds, and he didn’t even realise.
“Lola?” Hyunjin groans. He doesn’t mean for it to be a groan, but his morning voice has always been a little deeper than his normal drawl. He hopes he doesn’t offend his sister with the tone; she’s always been a little touchy like that, but he can’t really blame her. He’s touchy with tone, too.
What fucking time is it?
“Hyunjin? Can you hear me?” Lola asks, her voice crackling. It sounds like she’s been crying. “God, the service in here sucks.”
“I can hear you just fine, Lola. What’s going on?” Hyunjin says, feeling his back pop as he sits up. He finally gets a read on what time it is and why he feels so out of it. It’s not even light outside yet, which is insane, since it’s the middle of June and the sun rises in Vancouver at exactly 5:00 am.
The sky doesn’t even have that tell-tale hint of pink on the horizon, indicating a sunrise about to start. It’s pitch black – well, as pitch black as downtown Vancouver can be, which isn’t very black at all. Outside his window, Hyunjin can’t see the sun, but he can see the blaring city lights, cars driving through his street on their way to work or coming back from work, the walk-of-shamers with their heels in their hands.
It is a Saturday morning, after all. There will probably be a lot more of those.
The man who was in Hyunjin’s bed seemed to have already made his way home. Hyunjin hopes that he didn’t take anything on his way out; he was too drunk to vet the guy, and too horny to care about taking a random man home from the club.
“Hyunjin, I’m at the hospital,” Lola says.
Hyunjin’s heart skips a beat.
“It’s nothing serious, I had a fall,” Lola continues. Hyunjin’s heart still skips a beat because Lola has never been in the hospital before, not even when she had COVID and would cough for three minutes straight. “I broke my ankle.”
“Shit, is it bad?” Hyunjin asks. He hears Lola scoff, and the line crackles with the air blowing through the speakers. It would have hurt his ears if Hyunjin hadn’t been expecting it, but Lola always downplays her injuries, even the bad ones. Hyunjin swears she has the pain tolerance of a fucking gorilla on steroids.
“It could be worse,” Lola says.
It’s bad. Hyunjin can tell. She would have said “no, it’s not bad” or just scoffed again if it actually wasn’t bad. She probably refused any painkillers, too, the goddamn witch. She’d rather stab herself than get an injection, which is redundant, but that’s Lola.
“Anyway, I need your help,” Lola continues.
“Yeah, sure.” Hyunjin is already putting on jeans. The same ones he wore to the club last night. If there’s a suspiciously hand-print shaped glitter stain on his ass, well, he’ll just cover that with a hoodie.
“It’s Takeo,” Lola says.
Hyunjin’s stomach drops.
“He’s at his dad’s, and I’m supposed to pick him up at seven, and it’s already four-thirty, and he’s at the farm,” Lola rambles. It sounds like she’s close to tears, and Hyunjin is on edge. He might still be a little drunk. “It’s a three-hour drive, and I still haven’t had my X-ray, and the nurse said it’ll take a while because there was a crash downtown and they have, like, fourteen people waiting ahead of me.
“So, I was wondering-”
Oh, god.
“If you could-”
Oh shit, oh fuck-
“Pick up Takeo for me?”
Fuck.
Hwang Takeo. Lola’s son, who took her last name because fuck the patriarchy, and his dad had a funny last name. Something French, and hard for their father to pronounce.
He’s four, turning five tomorrow, and Hyunjin has met him twice. Once at the hospital for the birth, again at his fourth birthday party, because Hyunjin was in a different province for the first two and a half years of his life, and he was avoiding the general area they live in ever since he moved back. He hasn’t seen him since, nor has he seen Lola. She’s busy, he’s busy, she has a kid, he’s a twenty-five-year-old party douchebag who would rather shoot himself than have a kid.
It's a good thing he’s gay.
No pregnancy scares.
Except for that one trans guy…
Anyway-
“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate, but Rick has a thing in Alberta and I obviously can’t drive, so-”
“Yeah, I can pick up Takeo,” Hyunjin says, because he isn’t an asshole and he knows that Takeo would be upset if he didn’t get picked up today, because tomorrow is his fifth birthday, and he has a party planned on Monday at the local arcade.
And Hyunjin has been invited by Takeo himself, which means he has to go. It’ll be a nice surprise for Takeo to get to see his uncle Hyunjin two days before he expected to.
“Hyunjin, I really fucking owe you for this,” Lola says, relief evident in her voice even through the shitty phone line.
“No, you don’t,” Hyunjin says. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen him. It’ll be nice.”
“It has been too long, dick,” Lola scolds good-naturedly. She would never admit it to his face that she misses him when he doesn’t visit, because she’s not a touchy-feely kind of person, but he knows anyway.
“If you’re going to call me names, I can just go back to bed,” Hyunjin says, pulling on a jacket and grabbing his car keys. Before Lola can respond, he continues. “Does he still need the car seat?”
“Yes,” Lola answers, like she completely forgot. “You can take my car. You have to drive past the house to get to the farm anyway. The keys are in the banana bowl.”
The house.
That’s another reason Hyunjin doesn’t visit as often as he used to. When dad died, Lola got the house and the estate and control of the bank accounts that had Hyunjin’s college fund, which hadn’t been given to him because he came out as gay at eighteen and she didn't. He had grown up in that house, had his first kiss in that house, his first blow job; now it’s Lola’s, and his room was turned into a nursery when Lola got pregnant at twenty-seven. His father had been in a nursing home for a year by then and hadn’t spoken to Hyunjin in two.
He didn’t mind. He hated that house from the moment his father kicked him out of it.
“Got it,” Hyunjin says. “Does he need breakfast?”
“His dad will feed him something weird like cottage cheese pancakes or something. If he’s still hungry, take him to McDonald's. Just don’t let him drink the syrup packet. He always spills, and then he cries when he gets sticky.”
Hyunjin laughs, remembering the last time he saw them, when his dad dropped some icing on Takeo’s shirt and he bawled for an hour. It was funny, considering he didn’t have to clean up the mess.
“Alright, I’ll send a picture when I’m there,” Hyunjin says, shutting his front door a little too hard for this early in the morning. He sends a silent apology to his neighbours as he jams the key into the deadbolt to lock it.
“Thank you, Hyunjin, seriously,” Lola says, suddenly very sincere. It makes Hyunjin’s skin crawl.
“Don’t mention it, Lola,” Hyunjin says. There’s an awkward pause, where neither of them knows what to say because they’re both emotionally stunted idiots with absentee moms and an emotionally unavailable father who was only good for a twenty-dollar bill on Fridays.
“The nurse is back, I’m finally up for my X-ray,” Lola says. There’s a voice in the background, and he can hear Lola say, “I’m on the phone with my brother. No, it’s fine, we were done, anyway.”
“Good luck,” Hyunjin says, still feeling awkward.
“I’ll let you know what they say.”
“Please do.” Hyunjin is in his car now, turning over the ignition and typing in the address to his childhood home on Google Maps (because Vancouver is still a maze to him, even after all this time). “I’m gonna go now. Have to start driving.”
“Okay,” Lola says quietly. She coughs, awkwardly, because they’re awkward. Even the nurse pushing her wheelchair seems to notice the tension, because Hyunjin can hear her cough in the background, too. “I’ll send you the address for the farm.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
Lola hangs up after that, and Hyunjin is grateful. He has no idea how he even lasted that long on the phone. Phone calls always make him queasy. Maybe it’s because the silence isn’t really silent when the speakers crackle every time someone breathes too hard.
A moment after he starts driving, he gets a text with a location pin for a farm three hours outside the city (two and a half, with the way Hyunjin drives). He’s on the road, at a red light, saving the address into his phone before he can even begin to comprehend what just happened.
Broken ankle.
Very bad.
Hyunjin, the favourite (only) uncle, is going to pick up his favourite (only) nephew in the countryside from his rich father’s horse farm.
He has to Google how to work a fucking car seat…
Takeo shrieks when Hyunjin gets out of the car instead of his mom. His father looks taken aback. Lola had probably forgotten to text him after she got her X-ray results back.
Surgery needed.
It was bad. Hyunjin guessed right.
She’ll be in the hospital for at least one more day.
But he can’t think about that right now because Takeo is running at him, and Hyunjin has to think fast because he’s still a little disoriented, and if he catches the little guy wrong, he could break an ankle too.
“What is up, my dude,” Hyunjin says, grinning as Takeo jumps into his open arms. He coughs at the impact, but he’s too happy to notice the pain. He really had missed them.
“Uncle Hyunjin!!” Takeo yells, shrieking with laughter when Hyunjin throws him over his shoulder and spins.
On the porch, Takeo’s dad is all smiles, like always, but he’s still confused.
Takeo is talking a mile a minute about his horse, Freckles, and how he got to canter in the round pen yesterday, and how he’s gonna be a cowboy when he grows up.
“I think that calls for a cowboy hat, then,” Hyunjin says. He’s never been to the farm before. He has no idea what to say. He’s never even been close to a horse. They fucking scare him, but if Takeo likes them, they can’t be that bad.
“Dad says I can get one when I get bigger!” Takeo yells, flailing his arms and legs out, almost throwing Hyunjin off balance.
This kid just doesn’t stop.
“Hey, Rick,” Hyunjin says to Takeo’s father, finally close enough to have a normal conversation.
“Hyunjin, it’s been a while,” Rick says, a question in his gaze that Hyunjin probably shouldn’t answer while Takeo is within earshot.
“Hey, bud?” Hyunjin says, putting Takeo down on the first step up to the wrap-around porch. Takeo nods like he’s trying to give himself a concussion. “Why don’t you go get your stuff. I have to talk to your dad for a minute, yeah?”
“Okay!” Takeo agrees easily, running up the stairs and into the massive, log farmhouse that looks like it should be on the cover of an architectural magazine.
He really hopes that Takeo doesn’t grow up to be a spoiled brat…
When Takeo is out of earshot, Rick frowns at him. It’s such a drastic change that Hyunjin has to physically hold himself back from flinching. He has no idea what Lola ever saw in this guy; he looks like a white version of their father.
Maybe that’s something she has to work out with her therapist.
“What’s going on? Where’s Lola?” Rick questions.
“Don’t freak out-”
“Well, that just makes me want to freak out.” Rick sighs.
Seriously… Just. Like. Their. Father.
“Lola fell. She didn’t tell me the details, but she broke her ankle,” Hyunjin says quickly, avoiding Rick’s piercing gaze. The man could be incredibly scary if he wanted to be. “She needs surgery, and she asked me to pick up Takeo today. She said that you have some kind of conference in Alberta?”
“A rodeo?”
“Right, yeah, that.” Hyunjin hears Rick scoff, but it doesn’t sound exasperated. It sounds quite fond, actually. He might be (definitely is) still in love with his sister. “Anyway, she asked me to come get him because she obviously can’t, so I’m here.”
“Well, thanks,” Rick says. “I mean, I really would stay if I could, but this is the Ponoka Stampede. I’ve got a lot of money invested in the guys I’m sending. If I’m not there, my backers will pull out.”
“Dude, it’s totally fine,” Hyunjin says, regretting the ‘dude’ as soon as it comes out of his mouth. Good thing he isn’t looking at Rick to see his eyebrows raise. “I have nothing to do, so it’s really not a big deal.”
“You still painting?” Rick asks, because of course he remembers. He’s a nice guy like that.
“A little. Not so much anymore,” Hyunjin answers. “Mostly just… teaching nowadays.”
That was one way to put it. Hyunjin teaches high school art at a public school with almost no funding for the arts. The pay is decent, but it could be better. He drained his savings to move back to Vancouver, and the only reason he can afford to live by himself in this goddamn city is because he skimps on everything he can besides his car.
He also has a credit card.
“School’s out for the summer, so I have some free time,” Hyunjin continues.
“Well, thanks for doing this, Hyunjin,” Rick says in that sincere, Canadian way that makes Hyunjin want to choke himself.
For fuckssake, he’s a Canadian citizen. He shouldn’t be so grossed out by Canadian hospitality. Maybe he did inherit something from his father, after all.
He shudders at the thought.
Takeo saves him from responding to that by clunking out the door with his Spiderman suitcase swinging wildly behind him. Hyunjin doesn’t miss the way Rick winces when the suitcase hits the doorframe, no doubt leaving a mark, but he’s too soft to scold the boy.
“All ready?” Hyunjin grins, feeling much safer with a buffer to keep the scary thoughts at bay. Takeo nods wildly again, and Hyunjin takes his suitcase from him. “Alrighty, big man. Go get yourself buckled in.”
The men watch as Takeo hops over to the minivan – bright red and ugly, but reliable nonetheless – with fond expressions on their faces. Takeo has a bit of trouble with the sliding door, and he groans loudly as he pushes it open with all his might, making Rick laugh and Hyunjin giggle. When he’s in the car seat, buckling his seatbelt like a champ, Hyunjin finally turns to Rick.
“Call me if anything happens,” Rick says. “I’ll come back if Lola needs me to.”
“You know her,” Hyunjin says, waving a flippant hand as he starts walking backwards. “She’ll rally.”
He doesn’t give Rick a chance to respond to that, turning around and jogging to the car. Takeo is kicking his little legs, and Hyunjin has to close the door for him because he can’t reach the handle while he’s in his car seat. They’re on the highway in less than ten minutes, with a promise of McDonald's as soon as they see one.
Takeo is singing along to the radio because he loves country music, and that’s the only station they can get out in the British Columbia countryside. It’s probably all Rick listens to in the house. Hyunjin can’t stand some of the songs, but he can’t change it for fear of tears.
Tears would have been better than the question Takeo asks an hour into the drive, fingers sticky with pancake syrup because Hyunjin is an idiot, and he thought that a five-year-old could eat something messy in a moving car.
“Where’s mom?”
Takeo hasn’t stopped crying, but at least he’s stopped wailing by the time they pull into the driveway. He had to break pretty hard because he almost forgot about the goddamn gate, but Takeo looked relieved to be home.
In the middle of Kerrisdale, Vancouver, Hyunjin is finally taking in his childhood home in the daylight. The grey, stone chimney stares at him like it remembers when he threw a joint into the fireplace to try and hide the fact that he was smoking from his father. He stares back at it, remembering how he had cowered against the matching stone inside the house as his father yelled at him for being a junkie.
The whitewash brick seems cleaner than when he saw it last, because he hadn’t really looked when he picked up Lola’s car that morning. The hedge seems taller, too. Hyunjin’s father always kept it at a clean five and a half feet tall. Not tall enough to be imposing but tall enough for privacy. Lola had let it grow to at least seven feet tall since his father died five years ago. Flowers are growing at the bottom, too. His father had never let anything so colourful stay in the garden for long.
It looks more like a home. From the outside, at least.
Hyunjin swerves into the garage, much to the chagrin of Takeo.
“I thought we were going to the hospital,” Takeo says.
“We can’t go yet, bud. Your mom will call when she’s ready to have visitors, alright?” Hyunjin says, coming off weird instead of placating like he was going for. He hasn’t told Takeo the full story because he’s an idiot, but he’s not stupid. He just said that Lola fell, and she needed a doctor to make her ankle feel better.
“But I wanna go now!” Takeo whines, kicking his legs in his car seat.
Hyunjin is starting to feel that hangover now.
“We can’t go now,” Hyunjin says, firmer than he means to. “The doctors are working to help your mom feel better, and we can’t be there.”
“Why not!” Takeo wails.
“Because the doctors need to focus,” Hyunjin says. He doesn’t hear Takeo’s reply because he whips himself out of the car to have one moment of peace before the next tantrum starts. Even when he closes the door, he can still hear Takeo crying.
He understands, he really does.
He’s never having children.
Hyunjin opens the door to Takeo’s side of the car, unbuckling the car seat’s seatbelt (with a lot of difficulty) and lifting the crying kid out and onto the ground. When Hyunjin kneels to his level, he nearly starts crying himself. There are big, fat tears rolling down Takeo’s cheeks, and there’s a snot bubble that Hyunjin is most definitely not going to wipe for him hanging from his nose. He’s so fucking innocent that Hyunjin feels guilty for making him cry in the first place.
It’s not like he pushed Lola down the stairs…
“Buddy, I promise. As soon as your mom is better, we’ll go see her,” Hyunjin says. “For now, she has to be with the doctors.”
“But I wanna… see her,” Takeo says, taking a big sniff in the middle of the sentence. It only serves to make the snot bubble bigger. Hyunjin finally relents and pulls a packet of tissues out of the car door to wipe it away. Takeo’s so sad and scared that he doesn’t even squirm.
“I know,” Hyunjin sighs. “We’ll see her soon. I promise.”
Takeo’s bottom lip wobbles, and he’s holding a stuffed shark like he’s trying to pop it, but he eventually nods.
“You’re being such a brave boy. Your mom will be very proud,” Hyunjin says with a soft smile. When Takeo mirrors the expression, even if it is just for a second, Hyunjin feels like he’s won something. “How about we go watch some cartoons, yeah?”
Takeo brightens significantly at the mention of cartoons. “Can we watch The Flintstones?”
“Of course.” Hyunjin reaches up to ruffle Takeo’s hair, earning a giggle.
When Hyunjin goes to stand, Takeo gasps so loudly that he ducks for cover.
“Uncle Hyunjin, you have glitter on your butt!” Takeo yells, all traces of tears forgotten.
Fuck.
“Uhh, yeah…” Hyunjin clears his throat. “I… uhh… sat on a unicorn.”
Takeo pulls a face. “That sounds like it hurt.”
“You know what, it did,” Hyunjin says, ushering Takeo into the house. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Lola calls approximately twelve hours later, at ten at night. Takeo has been asleep for three hours already, tuckered out from soccer in the yard and ice cream for dinner, but Hyunjin doesn’t tell Lola about the ice cream.
“Hyunjin, I’ll be in this goddamn cast for six weeks,” Lola groans, the line crackling with how loud she’s being. Hyunjin hopes that she’s in a private room; he pities anybody who has ever lived with her.
Himself included.
“I can’t go up the stairs, I can’t drive, I can’t even stand long enough to make a pot of soup!” Lola sighs.
Hyunjin knows what she’s about to ask before she even utters the words.
“Would you mind sticking around? Just until I’m back on my feet?”
If Lola says anything else, Hyunjin doesn’t hear her. He’s too busy trying not to look at that goddamn fireplace. He’s pretty sure there’s still a chip in one of the stones from where his father threw a vase at him and missed. Then there’s the stairs behind him, where his father had thrown all of his clothes, electronics, and paint supplies when he was kicking him out. The back door, which used to be made of glass until his father slammed it so hard that it shattered.
The man had been so mad that he hadn’t even noticed he was cutting his feet on the glass as he yelled at Hyunjin to get off his property.
But that was seven years ago, and the door is made of fancy, shatterproof glass now.
“Can I stay in the guest house?” Hyunjin asks, cutting off whatever grovelling Lola had been doing.
“Of course!” Lola cries, too quickly. “Oh, my god, Hyunjin. You don’t have to do this; it’s really okay. I can hire someone if it’s too much-”
“Don’t do that,” Hyunjin cuts her off again.
She knows all about his struggles in this fucking house; she hadn’t been there for most of them, because she left for college when he was eleven, and she was hired by some big, fancy sports team as a lawyer when he was seventeen, and then she got pregnant when he was twenty. She knew, but she hadn’t been there, and he didn’t want her pity or understanding.
It would be too much.
“It’s fine. It’ll be nice to spend some time with Takeo.”
“Hyunjin, you’re a goddamn saint,” Lola says.
Hyunjin almost cackles. If only she knew what he had been up to not three hours before she called him. His ass still hurts, but the hangover is worse. Driving for six hours, two of which with a child throwing a tantrum in his backseat, is not the best hangover cure. Hyunjin should write that down for next time.
“Go to sleep,” Hyunjin groans quietly. He wants to sleep too, but first, Lola has to tell him that she’ll be in the hospital until tomorrow around three. He has to come pick her up because she can’t drive. She also has to explain that Takeo’s birthday cake is in the freezer, and it has to be taken out two hours before lunch so it can fully defrost.
Also, he has a friend coming over tomorrow afternoon, and she has already called the mother of the kid to explain the situation. She’s going to be coming at the same time that Lola needs a pickup from the hospital, and she’s going to stay to watch the kids for the afternoon so Lola can get settled.
Also, Takeo hates blueberries, even though he loved them last week, and he can’t have cake until he finishes his lunch, no matter how much he cries.
Also-
“Lola, I got it,” Hyunjin says, exasperated. “You’ll be home tomorrow. I can survive one morning with the kid.”
“But-”
“Nope, I’m going to bed,” Hyunjin says.
The last thing Hyunjin hears before hanging up is Lola shouting, “Don’t leave my baby in the house alone!”
Hyunjin is rudely awoken at the ass crack of dawn by Takeo jumping on his bed so violently that he hears something in the frame crack. If it were his own bed, he would have cried, because bed frames are expensive, and he needs a good one for his regular nighttime activities. But it’s not his bed, it’s his sister’s.
“Uncle Hyunjin!!” Takeo shrieks, too loud to be legal.
Hyunjin thinks that his hangover from yesterday has carried into today. He curses under his breath, in Korean so that his nephew doesn’t understand (because he knows Rick curses in English enough for the both of them), and throws his blankets off. It has the exact effect he was hoping for – burying Takeo for a few moments.
“Where are you, Takeo?” Hyunjin calls, even though the boy is thrashing under the heavy duvet and giggling like a howler monkey. While he’s under there, Hyunjin takes the time he has to get dressed – the same clothes from last night because Lola is fucking tiny, and he’s been bulking over the last year.
Eventually, Takeo surfaces, red-faced and looking at Hyunjin with stars in his eyes. It’s so innocent that Hyunjin has to turn away, feigning to look for socks. He can’t do puppy eyes so early in the morning, not in this house.
“There you are,” Hyunjin says. “I thought you left.”
“I’ve been right here the whole time!” Takeo beams.
“Really? You’re a good hider!”
“I wasn’t hiding!” Takeo jumps down off the bed, nearly stumbling. He’s short for his age, just like Hyunjin was at five. “You threw the blankets on me!”
“Oh, no. I would never do something like that,” Hyunjin says, making Takeo pout because the boy can’t tell if he’s being serious or not. He almost slips, the corner of his mouth twitching as he holds in a laugh, but he manages to keep himself together.
He’s always loved teasing Takeo; the boy hadn’t been old enough to understand what he was doing the last time he saw him. Back then, Takeo had just been learning how to kick a ball, and when Hyunjin tried to play with him, he got mad because Hyunjin was faster than him. Hyunjin still has no idea if Takeo would cry if he beat him at a game of soccer, but it would be easier to explain to Lola.
Letting a five-year-old win and letting a four-year-old win are not the same thing.
“You’re not allowed to be mean to me,” Takeo pouts. “It’s my birthday!”
“Really?!” Hyunjin gasps, extravagantly dramatic.
“Did you forget?” Takeo asks, so genuinely concerned that Hyunjin has to drop the act.
He kneels in front of the boy, rubbing his shoulders in a way that’s supposed to be comforting but feels a bit too awkward. “No, I didn’t forget. I was just teasing,” Hyunjin says, actually serious this time. “Why don’t I get breakfast started? What would you like?”
“Kimchi pancakes!” Takeo exclaims, jumping up and down a little.
Fuck.
“Wow… aren’t you fancy,” Hyunjin says, hoping Takeo doesn’t notice the beads of sweat starting to form on his hairline. The last time he tried to cook anything in this house’s god fucking forsaken kitchen, he had started a grease fire.
Lola probably wouldn’t appreciate a scorched ceiling, but she probably wouldn’t hit him with a wooden salad fork for making the mistake.
“It’s my favourite,” Takeo grins. He turns to skip out of the room, then, and Hyunjin can hear him thundering down the stairs.
Before he can get too nervous, he grabs his phone to call Lola, hoping for a miracle. And the universe is apparently on his side because just below the seven Instagram notifications from his best friend, Jisung, there’s a text from his godsend of a sister.
Lola: Takeo will ask for kimchi pancakes for breakfast. There’s four in the freezer, give him half of one at first because he never eats a full one when you give it to him all at once. They’re microwaveable.
Hyunjin types out a quick reply – something along the lines of “you’re an angel, never change” – and bounds down the stairs after his nephew. The boy is already sitting at the kitchen bar top, swinging his legs and kicking the marble with his socked feet.
The first time Hyunjin remembers getting scolded was because he was doing the exact same thing. The difference between Hyunjin and his father, though, is that Hyunjin won’t make Takeo clean the non-existent scuff marks off the marble until he cries. Also, he would never call Takeo a pussy for crying.
But that’s not a good thought for so early in the morning.
“Kimchi pancakes, coming right up, big man,” Hyunjin says, ignoring the sinking feeling in his gut as he opens the cabinet to the right of the double fridge. “What plate do you want it on? Big red or green flowers.”
“Can I have the blue one, please?” Takeo asks, so polite that Hyunjin has to blink at him.
“O’course, bud,” Hyunjin answers. He hadn’t even noticed the blue plate, in its own little corner of the cabinet, along with a small soup spoon and a blue plexiglass cup with a Spiderman logo on it. He pulls out all three things, just to be safe. “What would you like to drink?”
“Milk!” Takeo says.
Hyunjin, honest to god, gags. Takeo doesn’t notice, but it’s a near thing. He fucking hates milk and has since middle school, when his father made him go to class in a milk-stained shirt after he spilled his cereal on himself. He got called “cum-stain” for the rest of the year and made some poor girl cry because he thought she was laughing at him.
But Takeo doesn’t have trauma.
For the third time in less than half an hour, Hyunjin thinks it’s too early for this.
“Coming right up,” Hyunjin says instead of making a sound that would signify the amount of disgust rolling through his body.
Takeo has half a kimchi pancake, milk, and his favourite spoon in front of him in four minutes flat, and he finishes the entire meal before Hyunjin can even take his half of the kimchi pancake out of the microwave. Because he’s a nice person, Hyunjin gives Takeo his half when he asks for it and eats the three bites left over after Takeo says he’s full.
The rest of the morning is full of swimming and putting together a Lego set that Rick had gotten Takeo for his birthday. The man had hidden it in Takeo’s suitcase with a note that read “something extra. Happy birthday, kid. Love you.” And if Hyunjin shed a couple of tears, Takeo didn’t notice or seem to care if he did.
For lunch, Takeo has another kimchi pancake, because he’s a savage (his words, not Hyunjin’s), but he has water this time instead of milk (thank the lord). As soon as Takeo is done licking his plate clean – yes, you heard that correctly, the boy lifted the plate to his mouth and licked it – the doorbell rings to signify that Takeo’s playdate is here early.
And Hyunjin opens the door to a little girl in jeans and a purple My Little Pony t-shirt, and probably the buffest Korean man he’s ever seen. The little girl practically jumps through Hyunjin’s legs to get inside, screaming as soon as she sees Takeo. The girl’s father (presumably) looks momentarily alarmed, but grins when the laughter starts.
“Hi,” Hyunjin says. He was not expecting a man. Lola had said that the playdate would be with Takeo’s best friend from kindergarten, Nabi, and her mother, Chaeryeong. The man who meets his eyes (and he has to look up a fair bit to do so), is most certainly not Chaeryeong.
“What’s up, I’m Seo Changbin,” Seo Changbin says, extending a hand, completely oblivious to Hyunjin’s turmoil.
“Hwang Hyunjin,” Hyunjin says, lightly shaking Changbin’s hand once before dropping it completely.
Changbin, surprisingly, laughs at him. “Sorry, I must not be who you’re expecting. Chaeryeong said that you would be here instead of Lola, but I guess Lola forgot to tell you that I was coming instead of Chaeryeong.” The man laughs, a little nervously, and scratches the back of his head. There are dark curls under a backwards, blue jays baseball cap, and the biceps attached to this man nearly blind him with how massive they are. Hyunjin has to physically haul his mind out of the gutter.
God, he’s so fucking gay.
“I’m Nabi’s dad,” Changbin continues. “Chaeryeong had a work emergency, so I’m filling in.”
Without an invitation, Changbin slides past him and into the foyer. He slips his shoes off and places a large, overflowing bag on the bench beside the coat closet. Changbin looks like he’s been here before, based on how he easily grabs a pair of guest slippers from the rack in the closet, placing his shoes not in the same place he had grabbed the slippers from, but another, empty, rack specifically meant for outside shoes.
“You’re Lola’s little brother, right?” Changbin asks.
Hyunjin catches himself before he bristles, but it’s a near thing. He’s not little anymore. He’s almost a full nine inches taller than Lola, actually. “Yeah.”
“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you. Lola talks about you all the time.” Changbin beams at him, small mouth stretching into a wide smile without preamble, like they’ve known each other for years and can smile at each other without fear of judgment. “Lola told Chaeryeong, who told me, that I would be alone with the kids for a few hours while you grab Lola from the hospital?”
He phrases it as a question, even though it’s a plan that’s already been made. It’s like Changbin is checking with him to see if he’s comfortable leaving his nephew alone with someone he’s never met before. It’s comforting, to say the least.
“Yeah,” Hyunjin says. He can’t figure out Changbin’s angle. Is he just that nice, or is he being purposefully charming so he can lure Hyunjin in to abuse his trust later?
Pesky fucking daddy issues, back at it again boys.
“So, you probably want to leave now. There’s an accident on highway ninety-nine blocking two lanes,” Changbin says, innocently enough. He opens the bag he brought with him and pulls out a toolbox filled with snacks and a small, wrapped gift. “Unless you want to stay to open a present with us?”
Before Hyunjin can answer, the kids are racing around his legs like puppies chasing each other’s tails. He’s nearly knocked over before Changbin grabs both of them and throws them over his shoulders. Hyunjin hadn’t even noticed him putting down the toolbox and the present.
“You know, I should probably get going,” Hyunjin says. Takeo pouts immediately, kicking his legs until Changbin puts him down. He wraps his arms around Hyunjin’s legs, looking up at him with the biggest, saddest puppy eyes he’s ever fucking seen. “I have to go pick up your mom. She really wants to see you, so I don’t want to keep her waiting.”
The pout is gone in an instant, and Takeo is shouting “mommy’s coming home!” while racing off into the living room again. Once Changbin places Nabi back on the ground, she’s hot on his heels.
“Fucking energy balls, both of them,” Changbin says, a fond tone cracking his voice.
“You could say that again.” Hyunjin sighs loudly while Changbin dissolves into a fit of giggles. It’s such a contrast to his burly appearance that Hyunjin finds himself wanting to believe the man can be trusted. That’s probably the best outcome he can hope for at the moment. “Uh, anyway. I see you already brought snacks, but if you run out, you probably know more about the pantry than me. The cake is still defrosting on the counter because I forgot to take it out earlier. Call me if anything happens. My number is under the maple leaf magnet on the fridge.”
“Will do.” Changbin smiles at him, and Hyunjin can’t take it.
He’s already too overwhelmed by being in this house and trying to wrangle a five-year-old into brushing his teeth. Instead of replying, because he thinks his voice will fail him if he tries, Hyunjin simply turns towards the banana bowl to grab his car keys. When Changbin snorts when he bends over, he can’t help the expression he pulls as he whips around.
“What?” Hyunjin says, more defensive than he has the right to be.
“Sorry, sorry.” Changbin smirks. “It’s just that you have a concerning amount of glitter on your ass.”
Hyunjin can feel himself blushing. “Why are you even looking at my ass in the first place?” he barks.
“Hyunjin, I have a five-year-old who loves late-night art projects when she’s supposed to be asleep. My eyes are drawn to glitter on pure instinct these days,” Changbin deadpans, but the expression accompanying the flat tone doesn’t stay for long. It’s replaced with something sincere. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, though. Do you want a sweater?”
Like a gentleman, Changbin reaches into the overflowing bag once again and pulls out a black sweater that looks like it was hand-sewn by an artist who really appreciates their craft. When he sees the Versace logo stitched into the inside collar, he has to stamp down his excitement. He may be comfortable, but he’s not rich enough for Versace.
Changbin, apparently, is.
Fuck, that just makes him hotter.
“Thanks,” Hyunjin says, snatching the sweater, nearly moaning at the feel of the fabric against his fingers, and tying it around his waist.
“No problemo,” Changbin says, grinning once again. “I’ll see you later, then.”
“Yeah,” Hyunjin says awkwardly. Changbin doesn’t stick around to bask in the awkwardness, though. He’s off, chasing the kids into the backyard, screaming about a rematch of some sort, before Hyunjin can blink twice.
It’s too confusing for Hyunjin to comprehend in the moment, so he doesn’t. He pulls on his shoes – the boots with even more glitter on them than his ass, because gay night at a popular club has glitter coming out of every orifice – and doesn’t bother locking the door behind him. He’ll be back in a few hours anyway.
The car in the driveway, parked in front of the garage but pulled to the side so it’s not completely blocking Hyunjin in, is a Mercedes S-Class. Hyunjin has to groan into his hands because, fucking christ, are all of Lola’s friends this rich? That’s a two-hundred-thousand-dollar car. He had paid twenty for his.
His car isn’t anything to scoff at, though. It’s a 1991 Porsche 928 with a six-speed transmission and a custom silver paint job. When he was in university, he sold a couple of paintings and bought the car from a scrap yard. He’s been fixing it up ever since. It’s his prized possession, and he’s spent more money on that goddamn car than he has on himself in the last five years.
But still. It’s nowhere near two hundred thousand.
Ignorance is bliss, Hyunjin decides. He has to look at the car while backing out of the driveway, because if he hits it, Changbin probably won’t be as nice as he seems anymore, but he is still actively ignoring his desire to be a sugar baby. He didn’t see a ring on Changbin’s finger, so it could be possible.
And he was staring at his ass.
Anyway-
Not the point.
He has to pick up his sister.
The normally twenty-minute drive turns into an hour because of the traffic caused by an accident, but Hyunjin doesn’t mind. It’s an excuse to listen to music, and Changbin texts him pictures of the kids every ten minutes with a funny caption like “they smeared cake on the counter, but super-dad is here to clean it up.”
By the time he’s pulling into the hospital’s abysmal visitor parking, he’s made it through half his serenity playlist and laughed enough at Changbin’s texts that his stomach is starting to hurt. But then he’s walking through the hospital hallways, the smell of bleach and antiseptic assaulting his nostrils, and he’s being punched back to when he was twenty and his father called him for the first time in two years to say that he was dying.
Hyunjin hadn’t picked up, and his father had died alone on hospice, and he still doesn’t care. But the hospital still reminds him of when he and Lola had to go supervise the funeral home people as they picked up the body. Apparently, it was a rule that the family had to be there because there had been one too many mix-ups that weren’t caught until the casket was opened on the big day.
Room 143.
Lola is awake and dressed when he walks in, greeting him with the biggest smile he’s ever seen on her face. It’s evident that she’s pulled out her own IV because she’s a maniac, but he loves her anyway. He just doesn’t understand why she would deny free painkillers when she’s obviously in pain. Hyunjin doesn’t even deny expensive painkillers when he’s not in pain.
“Dickwad, what took you so long!” Lola says, at a volume inappropriate for a hospital, even if they are in a private room with the door closed.
“There was an accident by my exit,” Hyunjin explains, pulling Lola into a bone-crushing hug. He hasn’t hugged her in a year. It’s crazy what adulthood can do to siblings, even if they live in the same city. “Takeo’s fine by the way. Changbin has been sending me proof of life photos every ten minutes or so.”
In his hold, Lola relaxes even more. Hyunjin knew she would be worried about that, even if she trusted Hyunjin and Changbin to be responsible. It’s just what mothers do, Hyunjin thinks. He wouldn’t know, though. His mother gave up her parental rights when he was two, and he found out she died in a drunk driving accident when he was fifteen. Lola’s mother wasn’t much better. She was hooked on meth by the time Lola turned three and overdosed just before Hyunjin was born.
Lola says she doesn’t remember her.
“So,” Lola says, pulling away after patting his back. “How have you been?”
Ugh.
“I’ve been okay,” Hyunjin answers. He can finally take a good look at her and see that even under the cast, the skin around her ankle is purple. No pins are sticking out of the plaster, but considering that Lola had been on an IV morphine drip, it seems worse than Hyunjin assumed.
“Teaching going well?” She asks, bringing his focus back to her face.
“Yeah. My students are cool,” Hyunjin says, and it’s not a lie, but teaching high schoolers is fucking exhausting, and he wishes he could be doing anything else to make money.
“That’s good,” Lola says, smiling with teeth again. She doesn’t normally do that; the morphine must still be affecting her. “Help me up, now.”
“Whoa, aren’t we supposed to wait for a nurse or something? Like, aren’t you getting a wheelchair?” Hyunjin asks, placing a firm hand on Lola’s shoulder so she can’t even attempt to stand.
She harumphs, her plans foiled. “I just want to get out of here!”
As if summoned by her exasperation, Lola’s nurse walks in with a single knock announcing his presence, and Hyunjin has exactly no time to prepare. Because of course, Lola’s male nurse would be hot, and of course Hyunjin recognizes him, and of course Hyunjin recognizes him because he slept with him not even forty-eight hours ago, and of course Hyunjin is in the same clothes that the guy had complimented before they started making out in the middle of the club dance floor.
Woah. He didn’t remember that until just now.
The nurse has got game, apparently.
“Hi, Miss Hwang,” the nurse says flatly, not even acknowledging Hyunjin in the slightest. Hyunjin doesn’t know if an acknowledgement would be worse or not, but at least he finally knows the guy’s name from his name tag. Seungmin Kim, orthopaedic nurse practitioner.
Hyunjin had been calling him ‘fucking-twink’ in his head.
“Lola is fine, please,” Lola chastises.
“Okay, Lola,” Seungmin sends her a flat smile, pointedly avoiding Hyunjin’s gaze. “I have your discharge papers and your follow-up appointment time. You have to get the cast removed in around five weeks, and then your physical therapy can begin any time after that, though we do recommend sooner rather than later for the best results.”
He's so clinical. And skinny. And twink-like. Hyunjin never really goes for skinny guys; he doesn’t even remember how he had asked the man to come home with him; all he remembers is the adequate drunk sex and waking up alone when Lola called him from the hospital.
Fucking shit.
The way Lola looks at them both makes him think that she knows; she always knows. It’s like a sixth fucking sense for her; she clocked that he was gay before he had even begun to realize it himself, and he was eleven. If she’s noticing how Seungmin is looking at anything but him and how Hyunjin looks like a deer caught in headlights, well… shit.
“The doctor emailed you a list of do’s and don’ts for the recovery process, so you should already have that in your inbox,” Seungmin continues. “If you have any questions, both mine and Doctor Park’s email addresses have been CC’d. Feel free to contact us at any time.”
“Thank you,” Lola says as she flips to the second page of papers that she has to sign. There seems to be ten thousand more to go, and she seems to be loving the building tension in the room. She probably thinks it’s funny.
Fucking goddamn little shit bastard ass orphan shorty.
Maybe Hyunjin is going a little bit overboard.
“Do you have any questions for me now?” Seungmin asks. “Both of you.”
Hyunjin’s knees nearly buckle when Seungmin finally looks at him. It’s such a flat stare, so unemotional, so closed off. Hyunjin wants to suck his dick again, but that would be unprofessional.
“Nope,” Hyunjin says at the same time that Lola says, “No, we’re all good.”
“Great,” Seungmin says, showing the slightest bit of emotion when his shoulders visibly relax. He leaves not long after that with the discharge papers, pointing to a pair of heavy-duty crutches in the corner for Lola to take home.
They’re on the elevator, Lola cackling as Hyunjin groans into his hands, telling her the short story of how he fucked her nurse before he was her nurse and how it hadn’t been that great, but they were drunk and horny, so it was okay in the sense that he came. He pointedly left out the detail of Kim Seungmin leaving glitter on his ass, but Lola probably guessed anyway. He would never wear a jacket around his waist unless he wanted to hide something.
Lola needs help getting in the car, and she’s putting Hyunjin’s own address into Google Maps because, and this is a quote, “if you’re going to stay with me, you can’t borrow my shit.” So, they make the detour to Hyunjin’s apartment – forty minutes out of the way with no traffic – so he can pack a suitcase and grab a phone charger.
If Lola packs some of his art supplies into the suitcase, Hyunjin doesn’t acknowledge it. It’s not like he’ll have any inspiration to paint anything while he’s taking care of her and Takeo. Especially in that house. Even in the guest house, he’ll probably need a pill to sleep.
He packs the Xanax he got from his psychiatrist last year, just in case. There’s still half a bottle left, and he’s had it for over nine months. Addiction is not something he fucks with; he knows his limits, and he limits his limits even more than he has to just to stay in line. Sometimes he’ll go overboard, like on Friday when he took Kim-the-twink-Seungmin home, but that isn’t a regular occurrence, and he wants to keep it that way.
They’re on the road, making the hour-and-a-half trip from Hyunjin’s apartment to the house, taking all the right roads so they can avoid the highway for as long as possible, even if it means rolling his car through a few puddles.
When they finally pull into the driveway, Changbin comes out to meet them with a grin that’s slightly too forced not to be hiding some pity. Even though Lola accepts when Changbin offers to give her a piggyback ride into the house, she doesn’t seem too pleased about it.
She hates pity, and so does Hyunjin.
But then Takeo is screaming, and Lola is smiling and shedding a few tears because she can’t pick him up.
“Happy birthday, baby,” Lola says. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there this morning. I hope you had fun with Nabi.”
“I did,” Takeo confirms enthusiastically, launching into a story about how Nabi had almost knocked over his new Lego set when they were almost done building it, but Uncle Changbin caught it just in time. When he tried to get her to come up the stairs to show her, she nearly burst into tears.
“I can’t go upstairs for a while, honey,” Lola says. “I have to stay on this level and rest until my foot is all better.”
Takeo looks dejected for all of two seconds before he suggests a pillow fort in the living room, and since it’s his birthday and both he and Nabi seem excited, the uncles are roped into grabbing all the blankets and pillows from the bedrooms. They’re asleep, Lola included, by the time Hyunjin hangs the last blanket over the back of the couch.
It's barely five o’clock, but Hyunjin is absolutely beat. He has no idea how he’s going to survive the next six weeks, but he’s positive that he can do it. Looking at Takeo and Lola, curled up next to each other under a fluffy blanket, he knows it’s going to be okay, no matter how draining it will be.
A week in, and Hyunjin is not okay.
The house makes him anxious, and he can’t drive his car because it doesn’t have a back seat, and the only reason he drives anymore is to drive Takeo to and from summer camp at the elementary school ten minutes away. And when Takeo is gone, he’s trying not to burn the house down and cleaning up the messes Takeo always seems to create, even if he’s been in a room for less than a minute, and Lola needs help with everything because she’s a fucking cripple.
Her words, not Hyunjin’s.
It’s hard, and his only peace is the weight set in the guest house. He used to go to the gym in his building almost every day, sometimes even twice a day if he was feeling particularly antsy. He doesn’t have access to a gym while he’s staying at the house, but the old weight set his father had bought before his slow decline into lung cancer was turning into Hyunjin’s best friend.
But it wasn’t all bad. Takeo falls asleep at exactly eight thirty every night, so if Lola doesn’t need anything, Hyunjin can slip out to the guest house and relax, and doom scroll and lift weights and maybe send nudes to one of his old hookups because he’s a desperate bitch. There’s also the fact that Hyunjin loves spending time with Takeo and Lola, even if they’re being annoying. He missed out on a lot when he was at college, and even more when he was avoiding his father’s house.
Takeo is starting to read by himself. He’s getting so good that he asks to read the first bedtime story instead of Hyunjin, but he usually passes the book to Hyunjin before he’s halfway through. He’s also learning to write, and his handwriting is better than some adults he knows (cough, Jisung).
They swim almost every day, with Takeo splashing around like a lunatic while Hyunjin tries to swim some laps, but he eventually gives up to join the splash war. Lola watches from the sidelines and posts the videos she takes of them to her Instagram story, hastagging it #ProudMom.
Hyunjin even gets some new followers out of it because she tags his art account. Changbin and Chaeryeong are the first two, then someone named Minho, whose profile picture is an orange tabby cat with sunglasses on. Another guy follows him, his username, i_2_n_8, leaving absolutely everything up to the imagination because he doesn’t accept Hyunjin’s follow-back request. There are also a few random bots, but hey, it’s his art account, so he won’t complain.
Nobody but Jisung has his real Instagram.
Today, Hyunjin is bone tired. He’s fucking exhausted in a good way and in a bad way, and he just wants to be left alone, but Lola needs him to take Takeo to the park so he can burn off some energy before dinner, and she can’t take him because what if he falls and hurts himself; she can’t help in her condition.
She’d probably be more helpful than Hyunjin is in a crisis, but oh, well. He’ll just have to face the park. The special park down the block from his childhood house has a playground, a water play area, yoga on Sundays, and a running trail that circles a small lake. His father used to take him there when he still loved him, but that hasn’t happened since he was seven. Lola took him after that, and she was not very happy about it because who would rather play with their kid brother than text their friends all night long. For a fourteen-year-old, that was an easy choice, but their father made it for her, and he always chose the wrong option.
“It’ll be fine, Hyunjin,” Lola says from the couch. She had started working from home that morning, and she’s been wrapped up in a contract for a new player her sports team wants to hire.
“Yeah, I know,” Hyunjin whines. “Can you look up for a second? I have to get my sneakers from the guest house.”
Takeo is bouncing on the balls of his feet, waiting impatiently by the door by the time Hyunjin gets back. Lola has already gone back to her contract, but Takeo doesn’t seem to mind. He’s a little ball of lightning, and Hyunjin has to sprint a few paces to keep up with him as they walk to the park.
Apparently, the girl Takeo like-likes is always at the park at this time of day. Her name is Jody, and her mom is really nice and gives him orange slices when Jody plays with him. Hyunjin doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he probably likes the orange slices more than the girl.
The park looks exactly like the picture Hyunjin remembers from his childhood, though.
Red slide. Yellow monkey bars. Blue swings with silver chains that always had some sort of rust flaking off of them. He remembers being fifteen and coming down here to smoke with some of the other, older, neighbourhood kids and getting his shirt dirty because he leaned on one of the chains. He hadn’t been able to get the stain out, and rather than facing his father for dry cleaning money, he just repurposed it as a paint shirt.
The running trail is green and fluffy with shade, and Hyunjin can see at least four runners using it. The lake that the trail circles around is smelly, but that’s normal for this time of year – the goose shit really bakes in the sun. There’s a tai chi class being taught by an old, white woman off to the south, and something that looks like a teenager’s writer’s circle near the running trail’s end, and it’s so peaceful that Hyunjin feels like he can take a deep breath for the first time in days.
Takeo runs off immediately, calling to Jody, who beams at him. They’re off to the swings as soon as Takeo gets close enough, and Hyunjin has to hold back a yelp. Takeo is reckless, and he doesn’t want to deal with two broken people at a time.
Jody’s mom, a nice-looking blonde woman, waves at him but ultimately looks like she would rather do anything else than socialize. Hyunjin is all too happy to stand back from the action, close enough that he can run to Takeo’s aid, but far enough away that he doesn’t have to talk to any of the other parents milling about.
It takes all of three minutes for Takeo to get distracted by something over Hyunjin’s shoulder.
“Uncle Chris!” Takeo shrieks, making almost every mother at the park flinch because it sounds so much like a cry one would raise at an injury.
Takeo is zooming past Hyunjin before he can catch him, and Hyunjin has to run after him because, oh shit, oh fuck, he’s going towards the parking lot, and Hyunjin knows how Vancouver bitches drive, he’s one of those bitches, and he would probably blame the kid if it ran out in front of his car, too.
But then there’s a man standing in Takeo’s path. The man is picking him up and spinning him in the air like he doesn’t weigh fifty-odd pounds, and the man is partially shirtless. The rolling abs have Hyunjin slowing down, his mouth going dry as he catches little glimpses through the man’s open zip-up jacket. The pecs are nothing to scoff at either, and Hyunjin has always been a titty guy (if he were straight, that would make more sense). And the ass, for crying out loud, Hyunjin will die on this hill before he can get this man’s dick in his mouth, and that is something that can. Not. Happen.
“Uncle Chris!” Takeo is still yelling, and apparently, he knows this god-like specimen well enough to call him uncle.
Good lord, his nose. Hyunjin has just noticed his nose.
“Takeo, my man,” Uncle Chris says, easily lifting Takeo to sit on one of his massive shoulders. They haven’t noticed that Hyunjin is close enough to see the sweat dripping down this man’s chest or hear the Australian lilt of his accent. “How are ya, bud?”
“I’m great!” Takeo yells, giggling as Chan swerves like he’s going to drop him, but catches himself at the last second. It’s like a roller coaster ride. “My Uncle Hyunjin is here taking care of mom, and he’s so cool!”
“Well, I’m glad to get a mention,” Hyunjin says, making Uncle Chris gasp.
If the man’s cheeks hadn’t already been red from his workout, they would have blushed such a deep maroon that it would have been cause for hospitalization. Hyunjin is standing there, a little out of breath from trying to catch up to Takeo (and a little dejected because he couldn’t), in jean shorts and a muscle tank. He knows he looks good, but the way Uncle Chris is checking out his arms is nothing short of extremely flattering.
“Uncle Hyunjin!” Takeo yells. “This is Uncle Chris. He’s our neighbour!”
“Which side?” Hyunjin asks immediately, because that makes all the difference. If it’s Jenkins’s old house, Hyunjin will cry, because he knows that the old fart kept it in the family, and if this hot ass man is related to the homophobic asshole in any way, shape, or form, that will be a bummer. If it’s not Jenkins’s house, then that’s incredible.
“Number forty-three,” Uncle Chris says.
Fuck yes.
“Ah, north side,” Hyunjin says, like an awkward idiot.
“What does north mean?” Takeo asks, like a goddamn saint. He has not only introduced Hyunjin to the hottest man he’s ever seen, but he’s also saved Hyunjin from being a total and complete idiot.
Is it possible to go on a date with a child as a buffer? Is that weird?
Hyunjin’s weird.
“It’s a direction, big man,” Uncle Chris says, laughing nervously. If Hyunjin were to guess, he would say that the man would have been scratching his neck if Takeo weren’t on his shoulders. “I’m Bang Chan. Or Chris, if you prefer English names.”
“He’s got two names, Uncle Hyunjin, isn’t that cool!” Takeo says.
“You’ve got two names, bud,” Hyunjin says. “But, yes, it’s very cool.”
“Do you have two names?” Chan asks, blushing deeper immediately after he says it, like he’s embarrassed.
It’s cute.
“I do have an English name, but I prefer my Korean name,” Hyunjin answers. “Hwang Hyunjin.”
“I would shake your hand, but I’m a bit preoccupied,” Chan says, patting Takeo’s leg. The boy giggles, gripping onto Chan’s hair as he threatens to slip backwards. The way Chan’s eyelids flutter in pain makes Hyunjin think he’s good at hiding it.
“That’s alright,” Hyunjin says. “I don’t particularly like handshakes.”
Wow. Eloquent.
What the fuck.
“Well, that’s good to know.”
It seems like Chan is just as awkward as him.
A small voice sounds from behind Hyunjin’s legs, and he almost swears because he hadn’t noticed the girl jogging after him. “Excuse me?” When Hyunjin turns to look at her, it’s Jody. She’s taller than Takeo by a significant amount, but she probably weighs the same. “Are you leaving?”
She’s asking the group, but she’s looking at Takeo.
“Would you like to leave, Takeo?” Hyunjin asks.
“No! Can we stay? I want to stay!” Takeo yells, earning a pretty laugh out of Chan that has his eyes scrunching into slits. He lowers Takeo to the ground so the boy can run off with his friend again after Hyunjin says yes.
It’s just him and Chan now. Chan is panting a little, clear, probably from running around the trail – it’s a little less than three kilometres from start to finish. For Hyunjin, who only does cardio at night (wink), that is quite the run.
Chan’s probably good at cardio.
“So, uhm,” Chan starts, clearly not enjoying the silence they had lapsed into. He was swinging his arms like he didn’t know what to do with himself, but now he’s gripping his basketball shorts like he’s physically holding himself back. The grip makes the shorts ride up, and Hyunjin can see a hint of his pale inner thigh before Chan speaks again. “How’s Lola? I heard about the accident.”
“She’s okay,” Hyunjin answers. “Already back to work.”
Chan laughs like he expected that. “Ah, that’s Lola for you.”
“Do you know each other well?” Hyunjin asks.
“We’ve been neighbours ever since I moved here in 2020, in the height of lockdown,” Chan says, a faraway look in his eyes. “She introduced herself from the end of the driveway and left me a box of radish kimchi as a welcome gift.” Hyunjin chuckles because, of course, she would. “I’ve got to say, it was good enough that I called my mother to cry about it.”
“Kimchi good enough for a familial connection? Sign me up,” Hyunjin says, immediately regretting it, but then Chan laughs, bold and loud, and Hyunjin has to take a deep breath because he’s staring at Chan’s lips, and they just fucking met.
He needs to calm down.
“Yeah, I don’t know if I would have survived the move without her,” Chan admits, his voice softening. “It’s nice to have another Korean around.”
“Tell me about it,” Hyunjin mutters. “I was one of two Koreans in my freshman university class, but the school still managed to stick me in a dorm with the other one. It was annoying at first because I know why they did it, but he’s my best friend now.”
Chan laughs like he understands. “I get that. Lola was my first friend here, and she introduced me to the group she cultivated. They’re mostly parents, but it’s still nice to have a community.”
Chan is so fond while talking about his sister that he’s starting to think that maybe this man might be straighter than he previously assumed. Maybe Chan was looking at his arms because he was checking out his physique in a gym-bro way, not a ‘I want to jump your bones right here and now’ kind of way.
He hopes it’s the latter.
If he starts crushing on a straight man while living in his childhood home, the next thing that will happen is that his father will come back from the dead and tell him he’s a faggot. Just like high school.
Good times.
Anyway.
“Lola’s mentioned you before,” Chan says, bringing Hyunjin back to the present. He’s thankful, but not for very long. His mind races with all the possible stories Lola could have told the man, ranging from the time she caught him looking up dildos on Etsy at seventeen to the time he fell into the pool at a party while half a drink down. That was a fun summer. “She said you’re an artist.”
Ah.
Shit.
“I think she meant to say I’m an art teacher,” Hyunjin corrects, not exactly harsh but not soft either. He doesn’t really want to talk about the fact that he hasn’t painted anything in over six months, and the last time he tried, he couldn’t even finish a background.
That canvas is still sitting on the floor of his room, half blue, half blank.
“Really? That’s cool,” Chan says, because he’s a saint. “What grade level?”
“Seven to twelve,” Hyunjin says.
“Yeesh, teenagers,” Chan cringes. “The last time I had to deal with a teenager, I was a teenager myself. It was not a fun experience.”
“Oh, believe me, gen-alpha teenagers are no picnic,” Hyunjin sighs. “Some of them are pretty cool, but they are far and few in between. If they’re passionate about art, they’re either too quiet to distract me from the bozos or too afraid to actually participate.”
“That sounds like the high school experience, alright,” Chan says, hissing a breath through his teeth. “God forbid a kid have a passion.”
Hyunjin laughs because it’s so relatable. He had a passion – he had many passions as a teenager. Swimming, soccer, painting, dancing, and writing poetry. His father, the biggest bully of them all, crushed them into dust. Hyunjin held on to painting, and it was probably the only hobby keeping him alive in grades ten through twelve.
“Where did you go to high school? Forgive me for being presumptuous, but it doesn’t sound like you’re from Canada,” Hyunjin questions.
“I’m from Australia originally. You could probably tell from the accent.” Chan gestures to his throat as if to accentuate his point. All it does is make Hyunjin stare at the ripple of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. “But I went to high school in Korea… while in an idol company…”
Chan admits the last line like it’s some deep, dark secret, like he’s expecting Hyunjin to look at him like a freak. All it does is make Hyunjin gasp.
“Really?!” Hyunjin turns to him, taking his eyes off Takeo and Jody to gush. “Which one?!”
He’s so fucking excited. He loves K-pop. If Chan was in an idol company in the past, maybe he can get the tea on some of his favourite idols, and some of his least favourite. If he’s being honest, he wants it all. It sounds so exciting to be in an idol company – hard work, passion, music, dance; he wanted that when he was a teenager, but his father wouldn’t even let him watch K-pop music videos when he was in the house, much less think about being an idol.
It didn’t stop him from sending an audition tape to YG. He never got a call back, but still. It was exciting.
“I auditioned for almost all of them, but I eventually landed in JYPe when I was thirteen,” Chan says.
Hyunjin will faint right now.
Got7? Day 6? Xdinary Heroes? Twice?!
Good lord.
“That’s so cool!” Hyunjin practically yells, smacking Chan on the arm before he can stop himself. Chan is blushing so hard that Hyunjin can see it crawling down his exposed chest.
Hyunjin doesn’t think he’s ever been this… excitable around a stranger before, but Chan mentioned his favourite topic – K-pop – and if he doesn’t get every single drop of gossip he can, he’ll regret it later.
But Chan suddenly looks upset. It’s not a big change, just a small downturn of lips, a slight furrow between his eyebrows. Hyunjin wants to reach out and smooth the crease, but that would probably be more inappropriate than gushing over a complete stranger who also happens to be a good friend of his sister’s.
“If you can’t tell already, I didn’t exactly make it as an idol,” Chan says. “But I can’t complain too much. I have a job in the music industry now, so it all worked out in the end.”
The way Chan says it, like he’s happy but there could have been something else, something better, if things had just gone just a slightly different direction, makes Hyunjin deflate a little. He turns back to search for Takeo on the playground, reining in his obsessive behaviour so Chan can get back to smiling at him.
“What do you do?” Hyunjin asks, and Chan seems grateful for the topic change, even if it’s minor.
“I’m a producer,” Chan answers. He sounds happier already. “I was working for JYPe in Korea, but I got a job offer here with more opportunities to grow.”
The face Chan makes – like a grimace that he’s trying to hold back – makes Hyunjin understand more than Chan probably wants him to. Being held back by someone – or something – that you love is almost as painful as not getting to experience it at all.
“Music production.” Hyunjin hums. “My best friend from university is in that line of work. He’s a junior sound engineer at Sunrise.”
“No shit,” Chan says, raising his eyebrows. They rise so much that they get lost in the sweaty bangs drying against his forehead. “I work at Sunrise.”
“Holy fuck?” Hyunjin scoffs, surprised. “Do you know Han Jisung?”
Chan throws his head back with a single cackle. “Han fucking Jisung! He’s on my team!”
“Okay, small world, much?” Hyunjin grins at the sky, talking to the god he doesn’t really believe in but kind of wants to. He pulls out his phone and steps closer to Chan, who seems to freeze when their arms brush for a second. “Get in this picture with me. Jisung will absolutely freak if he knows I met his hot boss on a random evening.”
“Hot, eh?” Chan raises a single brow and slides his tongue along the inside of his cheek, which is about the hottest thing a man can do in Hyunjin’s humble (read: horny) opinion.
“If you tell him I said that, he will make sure my death is long and painful,” Hyunjin says. He snaps a quick picture, where he’s looking at the camera, and Chan is pointedly not. Chan is looking at him like he’s hungry, and Hyunjin would drop to his knees if he weren’t in public.
So much for thinking this guy’s straight. He just looked at Hyunjin’s lips.
Hyunjin is so glad he decided to wear lip balm today.
“Well, then. It’ll be our little secret.” Chan grins, like the goddamn Cheshire cat, and Hyunjin feels his legs get a little weak.
He’s so distracted by the bob of Chan’s throat and the veins running under the skin that he doesn’t notice Chan has taken his phone until he’s shoving it in his face. The phone is unlocked with his face ID, and Chan is typing something for a moment before he gives it back.
Chan 😉 : (604) *** - ****
Oh, damn.
“I’ve got to run, but I host a friendly poker game every Saturday night for a few friends,” Chan says, checking his watch. It’s a fucking silver Cartier, and Hyunjin wonders, not for the first time, where Lola finds such rich ass friends. “You should come, if you’re not busy, that is. Jisung is welcome to join if you don’t want to come alone.”
“I-” Hyunjin is short-circuiting. Chan is walking backwards, and he’s waving with his fingers – his not-so-long, but thick fingers attached to hands that look like they were sculpted by a manhwa writer.
“Text me if you decide to come,” Chan calls, already ten steps away. He’s putting in an earbud. “Either way, I’d love to hear from you.”
“Okay,” Hyunjin manages to squeak before Chan is out of earshot. The man sends him one last blinding grin – which is more of a smirk, but Hyunjin is fucking reeling right now, and he can’t handle a smirk, so it’s a grin, okay – before he’s running down the sidewalk towards their neighbouring houses.
Hyunjin nearly screams when Takeo pulls at the hem of his shirt.
“Can we go now? I’m hungry,” Takeo says.
“Yeah, buddy,” Hyunjin says, after taking a moment to breathe. “Let’s go.”
When Lola finds out about his encounter with Bang Chan – Uncle Chris, as Takeo calls him – she clocks him almost instantly.
“He’s bisexual, you know,” Lola says, sipping on her lemon grass tea with honey like a goddamn witch.
“Go away!” Hyunjin groans, smacking her leg with a throw pillow. She wails like she’s been shot, but Hyunjin can see right through her deception.
He can also see that she’s a little excited for him, and to be honest, he’s a little excited too. He can’t remember the last time he was invited to something that wasn’t Jisung’s annual “get wasted on my birthday” party that consisted of the two of them rewatching Ghibli movies, taking shots, and crying.
He also can’t remember the last time he had butterflies around a man. Chan made his stomach flutter. He seems nice enough, and he’s hot enough to make up for it if he has a mean streak, but Hyunjin didn’t get that vibe off of him. The way Takeo trusts him is a good sign, though.
“You’re blushing,” Lola mentions offhandedly.
Again, Hyunjin smacks her with a throw pillow, this time in the face, because she isn’t sipping her witch brew anymore. Before she can retaliate, he hops over the back of the couch.
“Bye bitch!” he calls as he shuts the sliding glass door to the backyard.
He needed to get away, not only for his mental state, but for the state of his dick. If he uses all the hot water that night, and if Lola calls him in the morning to yell at him for it, he thinks it’s totally worth it.
To: Chan 😉 9:47 pm
Hey! It’s Hyunjin. Me and Jisung would like to come on Saturday.
Thanks for the invite.