Life when it's Monday and it rains so hard that Noah is this far from knocking on your door to pick you up. Life also when you have to drop your kid off at school, which ironically is on the other side of town, making you inevitably late for work, where your boss welcomes you with tons of layouts to edit and a never ending list of people to call. Life doesn't get any better when that damned red light on the printer is there for no apparent reason and you've already checked pretty much everything that could be the problem; the ink is there, the white paper too, all the wires are plugged in and still, that evil machine doesn't want to cooperate with your poor soul.

Sehun counts to fifty-three because even though smashing that old printer with his fist seems like an appealing idea, that would mean money to pay and he cannot afford that. His boss is already "paying" him like he's some kind of slave and he has a kid to raise, so nope, no cent is allowed to leave his pocket. 

Coffee break is at ten and Sehun's dying whale noises echo in the whole office, making his colleagues wonder who the hell has just been stabbed. The coffee machine is broken. Sehun counts to seventy-six because nope, he can't destroy that machine with kicks. It could be fun, but not professional.

First the printer, now the coffee machine. He crawls back to his messy desk and takes his glasses off, trying to figure out a way to get some coffee without actually leaving the room. His eyes fill with hope as soon as a trainee offers to take a trip to the nearest Starbucks, taking notes of everybody's orders. Sehun opts for an americano because he needs to feel the pure caffeine running through his veins otherwise he won't be able to leave work alive.

While he waits for his coffee, Sehun makes a few calls and does some boring editing on his computer. There are paper sheets everywhere, some are even on the phone, and he thinks that maybe it's time to start writing his will. He's so going to die here, buried under ten feet of random stuff and supplies. He hasn't even checked anything on his bucket list… he's so young.. too young to die… in a boring, plain office… alone… poor…

"Sehun hyung? Hyung?" the high-pitched voice ringing in his head and the sweet smell of freshly crushed coffee beans make him cringe and smile at the same time. He lifts his head up and sees Jongin right in front of him, coffee in his right hand and a worried expression painted on his sun kissed face. The trainee places some change on the desk and asks him if he's getting enough rest because holy , his dark circles are very dark that morning. Sehun blinks a few times and tells him not to worry; everything is under control in his life and every single obstacle is highly calculated. Apart from the fact that he fed his son some expired milk last night. That was a mistake, but Jongin doesn't need to know all the details. He sends him off with a small smile (is that even a proper smile?) and finally starts sipping on his well-deserved americano. It's warm and bitter and just perfect. There are some yellow post-its on his calendar so he decides to work on those commissions first. He doesn't want to have too much work on Friday, since he promised his son that he'd take him to the zoo. His wallet will be a bit lighter but hey, he's the father. A 29 year-old single father with trust issues and a soft spot for stuffed animals.

The office is quiet. Sehun hears the sound of his fingers typing and the clicks of his mouse. His coffee is still hot, someone has the heater (probably Zitao, he's as thick as a flower and always cold) and for once his design resembles something decent. The palette Sehun chooses is really pretty: there are shades of blue, grey and brown. Overall it's a really pleasant first page for the October issue of their magazine, and Sehun lazily drags the cursor on the 'save' button so his boss can check it out. Or maybe not. Photoshop crashes. 

Jongin is helping Jongdae with the broken printer because they really need to print some stuff for the magazine. The last thing he sees and hears before leaving the room for lunch break is Sehun loudly banging his head against the wooden desk. 

Jongdae grabs his coat and tells Sehun to join him because having lunch all alone is really sad, and Sehun only accepts because his colleague offered to pay. The streets of Seoul are wet and grey, pretty much like the layout editor's mood right now. Rain is pouring so hard that even the umbrella can't save his suit, which ends up all stained with big damp polka dots. They decide to stop by the old same ramen shop, the one right behind the corner, with bright warm lights and striped walls, just because it's cheap and the portions could feed an entire army. It's funny because that shop is full of memories for Sehun; he used to meet his friends there after school (Jongdae included, everyone), trying to fit all the homework on the table next to his steaming cup of broth. He then became friends with the former owners and somehow ended up dating their daughter, who slowly got tired of spending afternoons inside that shop and dumped him one fine day. After the whole family moved away and sold the shop, Sehun stopped dropping by and he decided to start buying cups of noodles at the minimarket next to his apartment, mastering the art of using the microwave. 

"So how's Haneul?" Jongdae asks while making himself comfortable, cellphone on the table and coat folded on his chair. The waitress hands them a menu and Sehun scans it through his eyes with fake interest. He orders the same old cup of spicy noodles with a glass of mineral water and Jongdae just tells he waitress to get him the same too. 

"Haneul is fine. He struggles with school, but everything else is alright." Sehun manages to say, cleaning his glasses with a tissue. He doesn't want to think about how little time he gets to spend with his nine-year old son because of his work. He also doesn't want to think about the nights he heard him cry in his room, or about all the times he said he felt lonely because "mom won't come back" and the kids in his class didn't really like him.

"I think you should-"

"No."

"But Sehun, he's so lone-"

"I don't need a babysitter."

Jongdae shakes his head and starts to eat his noodles, because reasoning with Sehun is as effective as talking to a tree. Sehun does the same, still a bit offended by his friend's words. It's not like he's a bad parent, ok? He has always made dinner, washed his clothes, played with his son whenever he could, talked with teachers. He is a good father indeed, so why is Haneul sad all the times? Why doesn't he smile when Sehun takes him out to eat, or when they play football at the park? Sehun really doesn't get it. He's trying so hard and yet it never seems enough. It was his mother who ran away with someone else, not him. 

"I think he misses Yoobin. Sehun, this is not about your parenting skills, ok? It's about Haneul. You barely get to see him after five, he feels lost and needs a maternal figure in his life." Jongdae's words are like a bucket of frozen water thrown directly at his face, but the worst part is that they make sense. It's true. Work is a living hell and Haneul suffers in silence while Sehun spends his night working on layouts and heating up things in the microwave because there's no way he has time to cook something more elaborated. 

"Give it a try. If you don't like how the babysitter treats Haneul, you can just fire her."

Yeah, sure. It's not like Sehun is dying to welcome a total stranger into his house, hand them his precious kid and then go to work and stay there not knowing what the hell is going on at home. Also, babysitters cost money. They cost even more when they have to cook, do laundry, do the ironing, the shopping and all the housework you usually do on