Their weekends usually go something like this- Saturday’s the rush day, the day they run errands, finish up leftover work from the week, clean the house and do laundry, pay bills and balance checkbooks; basically getting every particularly unwanted chore out of the way for Sunday.

Sunday’s their day, the day Jaebum lets himself wake up as late as he wants, the day Yugyeom doesn’t have to do any Korean or Math exercises (only until school starts, Jinyoung always reminds him), the day Jinyoung promises not to touch his laptop or the numerous stacks of manila folders with content for the high-profile fashion magazine he writes for.

Jaebum opens one eye at around eight, leans over to bury his face in the cottony material of Jinyoung’s shirt, bunched up across the small of the other man’s back, and falls right back to sleep. Yugyeom will come pattering in at around eight forty-five, barely hiding his excitement to start their off day, and squeeze into the bed by Jinyoung’s side until his father wakes up. By nine forty-five, Jinyoung’s already wriggled out of Jaebum’s stubborn grip to start getting breakfast ready, and Jaebum stirs awake drowsily to the theme song of the Korean-dubbed Power Rangers playing on television.

“Morning~” Jinyoung singsongs as Jaebum yawns his way into the kitchen. “Mark called- he and Jackson will be here at around eleven, they want to get breakfast outside somewhere nice first.”

“Mmh,” Jaebum mumbles, brooding by the coffee pot mournfully. Right, he’d completely forgotten that Jackson and Mark were coming over with Bambam today. “You told them about Yugyeom?”

“Which one?” Jinyoung replies playfully, popping some bread in the toaster, laughing at the way Jaebum’s trying and failing to frown. “Yes, I called Mark-hyung yesterday morning. He’s surprised it was you who let him in the house, by the way.”

“Prick,” Jaebum grunts, reaches out blearily to pour some coffee as the machine beeps. He takes a long sip of the burning, bitter hot liquid, before speaking next. “He would’ve actually left Yugyeom out in the cold if it’d been him in my place.”

“Well, then,” Jinyoung says sweetly, taking the butter out from the fridge and leaning over as he walks by to put it by the electric kettle. “Good thing I married the right one, right?”

Jaebum chokes violently on his coffee in response.

“Good mor-…” Yugyeom stops hesitantly in the doorway of the kitchen, then, watching Jaebum hacking into the sink. “Is Jaebum-hyung okay?”

“He’s got some nostalgia stuck in his throat,” Jinyoung says pleasantly, over the sound of Jaebum wheezing in the background. “Did you sleep well? I hope Gyeommie didn’t bother you by turning on the cartoons.”

“No, it was fine, I used to watch those cartoons all the time when I was a kid, too,” Yugyeom beams, before casting an uncertain eye in Jaebum’s direction again. “What did you say he was choking on again?”

“Nothing,” Jaebum growls into the sink, splashing some cold water on his face before grabbing the face towel hanging by the rack near the kitchen bathroom. “Coffee,” he amends, after seeing the concerned look on Yugyeom’s face.

“And great memories,” Jinyoung adds cheerily, and Jaebum makes a disgruntled noise into the towel. “Anyway, Yugyeom, I did tell you a couple of our friends were coming over today, right? We usually let our kids play together.”

“Yeah, okay,” Yugyeom says, smiling. “I’ll stay out of the way.”

“No, what? It’s fine, I’m sure they’d like to meet you anyway,” Jinyoung says earnestly, handing him a plate of toast. “Put these on the table, will you? I haven’t told you about their son, Bambam, right?”

“Is Bambam coming over?” Yugyeom comes running in, then, bumping into the teen’s leg and giggling. “He’s coming over with uncle Mark and Jackson, right?”

“Yeah, he’s bringing his Wii remote so both of you can play today,” Jinyoung the back of Yugyeom’s head, smiling, before bopping his nose. “Don’t cry if you lose at Mario Kart again, okay?”

“Papa,” Yugyeom whines, pouting. “I didn’t cry last time, it was Bambam!”

“I’m pretty sure it was both of you,” Jaebum says, where he’s scrutinising the refrigerator, before closing it with a sigh. “Why don’t you tell your hyung here who Bambam is? I’m pretty sure he’s quite confused by everything we’re saying now.”

Yugyeom, on the contrary, looks more amused than anything as the little boy drags him out into the living room, chattering endlessly about uncle Jackson and uncle Mark and my bestest friend ever Bambam, and Jaebum takes advantage of the momentary privacy to wander over to Jinyoung, leaning sleepily on his back to drink his coffee in peace.

“You know,” Jinyoung says, a moment after he delivers the omelette he’s frying onto the plate safely with Jaebum still clinging to his back, a skill no doubt developed after years of practice, Jaebum muses. “Yugyeom seems pretty okay with all this.”

“Which one?” Jaebum mocks, before cursing under his breath as Jinyoung elbows him with the spatula. “Ow.”

“He didn’t even question Bambam’s name,” Jinyoung continues conversationally, mixing tomato cubes and ham into another round of eggs. “You know it took me two weeks to get used to calling their little boy Bambam?”

“He’s probably learned not to judge,” Jaebum grumbles, returning his chin to Jinyoung’s shoulder anyway. “He didn’t question the fact that we lived together with Gyeommie either.”

Jinyoung doesn’t say anything for a moment, letting the silence sit in between them until Jaebum’s properly comfortable, before sneaking the question in.

“You know, hyung,” he says carefully, and Jaebum hums assent. “I did mention a couple of times, here and there, it would be nice to have a second child-…” Jaebum groans, burying his face into Jinyoung’s back here, and Jinyoung continues quickly. “And I just wanted you to know! What it’s been like with Yugyeom here, the older one- it’s been nice, hasn’t it?”

“Nice,” Jaebum grumbles, not looking up, mostly because he can’t refute that statement. It’d been nice, sure, having a helping hand fixing up the bathroom door the previous day, nice having someone hold the stepladder as Jaebum struggled with the spare bulb, nice having someone talk about school and dance and listen to his advice and his stories.

“You’re only reluctant because you don’t know what it was like out with him,” Jinyoung protests, manoeuvring the spatula so the tomato bits don’t fall out onto the pan. “At the park that day- I just kept thinking about it, you know? Having someone help you out, play with the kids and talk to your friends and be proud when everyone says what good manners he has-…it’s like he was really my son that time, hyung. I don’t know, I just,” Jinyoung sighs. “I want another child just like him, you know?”

Jaebum exhales, closing and opening his eyes against Jinyoung’s shirt. “Okay, okay, I get it. Yeah. It was nice having him around. What does this have to do with a second child again?”

“Well…” Jinyoung drags the word out timidly, and Jaebum knows he’s probably going to get a bomb dropped on him at that moment. “You know, if, come worst of luck, things don’t work out on his family’s side…I was thinking, you know,” he leans back a little, letting Jaebum catch a glimpse of the hopeful glint in his eyes. “I wouldn’t mind…letting him stay?”

“Jinyoung,” Jaebum says firmly, lifting his head from Jinyoung’s shoulder. “He’s got his own family, his own affairs, and we’ve got no right to decide any part of that, remember? And we’re barely getting by on our own- the kid’s supposed to go to university, soon, anyway. We shouldn’t and we can’t manage him. We’re just letting him stay until things at his family’s side are fixed, then we’re going our separate ways.”

“Okay, okay,” Jinyoung relents, mouth downturned, before he mutters, “we’re adopting another one next year, then.”

Jaebum mumbles something indecipherable, pressing his face into Jinyoung’s shoulder again and pretending not to hear.

*

“So you’re in your senior year?” Jackson booms out across the room with the consistency and power of a megaphone, though Yugyeom’s clearly sitting about two seats away from him. From beside him, Mark rolls his eyes. “Where are you planning to go?”

“No idea,” Yugyeom says truthfully, albeit rather meekly, and Jaebum winces. He regrets not preparing Yugyeom beforehand- the boy’s integrated so seamlessly into their lives that he’s forgotten what a character Jackson can be to newcomers, enough to make both Mark and their son Bambam look tame.

“Where are you from anyway?” the Hong Kong native continues, squinting at the boy over the plate of fruits Jinyoung’s set on the table. “You’re from around here, aren’t you? You look familiar- you work at like, the convenience store or the supermarket as a cashier or something, right? I swear I’ve seen you giving out flyers somewhere before.”

“Ah, no?” Yugyeom’s hands are folded on the glossy faux marble tabletop one moment, then on his lap the next, fidgeting endlessly. The only reason why Jaebum doesn’t ask Jackson to stop then is because he knows it’ll probably be ineffective- the only person Jackson listens to properly is Mark, who’s currently chewing idly on one of the apple slices Yugyeom had helped Jinyoung prepare this morning, completely ignoring the situation at hand. “I did work at a café last year, though,” he adds hesitantly, as an afterthought.

“Really?” Jackson frowns. “You look like you’re cut out for rough work- we don’t judge, of course. The streets are full of people like you, it can’t be helped.”

Yugyeom nods once, eyes connecting with Jaebum’s once as though to confirm for a moment if he’s saying what I think he’s saying? and Jaebum responds with a quietly pleading stare for him to just bear with it for the time being.

Thankfully, they’re saved at that moment by Bambam, Jackson and Mark’s notably as unique son, who stands on the couch, clinging to the backrest, cherubic face bunched in a pout.

“Hyung! We can’t connect it! Something’s wrong with the controller,” he whines, bouncing slightly on the sofa, and Yugyeom excuses himself, getting up from the table, then, to go over and help, smiling. The kids have been huddled in front of the Wii console since Mark and Jackson arrived, and Bambam had, to Jaebum’s never ending surprise, once again taken rather well to Yugyeom’s presence.

“Bambam always did get along well with new people fast,” Mark chuckles, watching the two boys stare, enraptured, as Yugyeom starts explaining the concept of batteries and which side they go in to them. “He’s always meeting new people when we bring him to the park- it’s no surprise he’s getting along with the new kid so well.”

“I’m surprised hyung even brought the kid up,” Jackson says, taking a peanut from the packet of snacks Mark had broken open, and Jaebum rolls his eyes. “He looks big enough to beat someone up, if you ask me.”

“You think everyone wants to beat everyone up,” Mark snipes, before turning to look at the rest of them. “He seems like a good kid to me. I mean, sure, the hair and the piercings kind of make you think twice, but it’s something about him, you know?”

“See, that’s what I said,” Jinyoung says triumphantly. “He’s fine- he’s a good kid.”

“You know I’m starting to think everyone’s running on some sort of rehearsed script,” Jaebum grumbles. “Am I the only one with misgivings here?”

“Yeah, now you mention it- he’s big, but he has that marshmallow feel about him,” Jackson says critically, ignoring Jaebum as he squints over his shoulder. “Like you could hit him over and over again and he wouldn’t fight back. It’s something in his eyes- you can tell when an animal’s been broken in.”

Jaebum sees Jinyoung wince, then, out of the corner of his eye, and clears his throat, looking over to Mark instead as he changes the topic. “So how’s Bambam been doing at those beginner dance classes you were talking about last time? We were thinking of letting Gyeom try them out too.”

They talk for almost hour after that, about work, about their kids, as per the norm whenever Mark and Jackson come over, and when Jinyoung leaves to start getting lunch ready, Jackson, in the midst of a heated conversation with him about the merits of early education, follows after him with the soy sauce chicken and tripe snacks they’d bought on the way here for the kids, leaving Mark with Jaebum at the table, sipping from cans of soda.

“So,” Mark starts, volume deliberately lowered, and Jaebum holds in a sigh. “What’s the deal with this kid, really?”

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific,” Jaebum reclines slightly in the hard backed chair against the wall, eyes closed. This is one conversation he’d been hoping to avoid with either of them, but Mark always did know how to get what he wanted.

“Where’s his family? His friends?” Mark chuckles, long fingers circling the glistening rim of his can of drink. “Pretty weird, don’t you think, that he’d have no choice but to stay out in the rain, rather than crashing at someone’s place or hiding out at the mall or something?”

“You were the one saying he looked like a good kid just a couple hours ago,” Jaebum laughs tiredly. From in front of the television, Bambam cheers when his Mario Kart avatar tosses a cream pie back which hits Yugyeom’s avatar, eliciting a loud whine from the other boy.

“I never said he wasn’t,” Mark grins, amused. “Loosen up, I’m just curious, you know?”

“Yeah, okay,” Jaebum sighs. “I don’t know. He hasn’t said anything, just the usual about how things are a little difficult back home and he can’t go back at the moment. I didn’t want to pry.”

It’s strange, this need he feels to shield Yugyeom’s secrets from someone like Mark, whom he’s practically known since high school, when he’s barely known Yugyeom for a few days. It’s this mutual burden both of them shoulder, and he knows, he knows what it feels like, the poison of sweet what’s wrongs, only to turn into quiet, shifty-eyed whispers behind his back.

“Really,” Mark says, like he knows, as Jaebum is pretty sure he does. He waits for a beat, before continuing conversationally. “That why you let him in in the first place?” Jaebum inhales a bit of soda here, coughing slightly at the slight burn in the back of his throat, but Mark continues anyway. “Because you two have something in common?”

If it’d been anyone else but Mark, Jaebum would’ve bristled, glared and told them to mind their own business, but now, he half-shrugs, half-nods. “Whatever. Yeah, I guess.”

Mark smiles, leaning back, setting a light hand on Jaebum’s shoulder. “Just wanted to know.”

Jaebum’s relieved when Jinyoung comes back into the living room, then, carrying plates of food, followed by Jackson helping with the soup, now going off on a tangent about the severe lack of emphasis on arts in the local elementary school syllabus, grinning slightly at the commiserating look on Jinyoung’s face as he sets the food down.

“Shut up, Jackson,” Mark says absently, as he tastes the ginseng chicken soup midway through Jackson’s spiel, as Jinyoung’s calling the kids to the table, and Jaebum heaves an obvious sigh of relief.

“That’s the fifth time today!” Bambam informs excitedly, clambering up onto the chair. “Papa says Daddy will buy me ice cream if he has to hear that more than seven times a day!”

“Seven’s too harsh,” Jaebum mumbles, watching closely as Yugyeom gets into his own seat beside Bambam. “I’d need a quota of at least twenty if I lived with Jackson.”

“All of you ,” Jackson says, wounded, and Jinyoung slaps him on the back of the head with the cooking mitts, with a hiss of language, Jackson, and the two kids giggle.

But then Jaebum sees Jackson’s eyes land once more on Yugyeom, who’s settling unobtrusively at the corner of the table beside Jinyoung, and steels himself for the interrogation about to come, even if it isn’t for him.

It’s going to be an interesting meal, at least.

*

It’s evening in almost seconds, as it is whenever Mark and Jackson come over, and Jaebum finds himself on the couch, on the receiving end of Jackson’s rapid fire span of attention, nodding every so often in tune to whatever the other man is complaining or talking about while the kids run around the house around them in some modified game of catch, where it seems all the adults have become home bases.

Jinyoung’s laughter rings out from behind them, followed by the sound of Bambam’s high-pitched giggles, probably as the younger boy had sprinted over and collided into him to escape Yugyeom.

“And I’m just saying, you know, you gotta give them the right kind of gender education, or they’re just gonna end up as ignorant as everyone around them,” Jackson’s declaring, and Jaebum almost yawns, then, clenching his jaw to hold it down. “It’s ridiculous- what year is it now? People are still getting married in churches, for crying out loud. Aren’t we past that already?”

Jaebum had long learned, since the day Jackson set foot into his Literature II class during his sophomore year at high school, that arguing with the man resulted in a highly disproportionate yield to effort ratio, and hence had come to the conclusion, ages ago, that it was best to nod and pretend to listen at times like these. He’s so far gone into it he barely notices when Jackson straightens, turning around to scan the room.

“…like that kid Yugyeom here, for example,” and Jaebum blinks awake, about to protest for Jackson to just give the kid a break, for crying out loud. “Hey kid! Hey, look over here for a sec.”

Yugyeom looks up from the floor, where he’d probably playing with the kids until a moment ago, and Jaebum sees Jinyoung look over nervously from where he’s seated at the table with Mark. Jackson could get, uh, assertive about his views, at times, and while Mark usually reins him in when things start to get extreme, he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered to do so at the moment.

“What do they teach you in schools nowadays?” Jackson frowns, leaning over from the couch. “Listen, you probably got a girlfriend, don’t you?”

“No sir,” Yugyeom says honestly. Jaebum lets out a quiet breath, thinking that’s the end of whatever Jackson wants to say to Yugyeom then, until Yugyeom pauses tentatively, before continuing to speak. “Boyfriend.”

There’s a moment of rather taken aback silence in the entire household, before Bambam pipes up from where he’s hiding between Mark’s knees, giggling, “Yugyeom hyung has a boyfriend! Hyung has a boyfriend! Are you gonna marry him like Daddy, hyung?”

This is the most personal they’ve ever gotten with Yugyeom, Jaebum realises- up till now he’s only seen Yugyeom in isolation, but the picture he’s formed in his head of him starts to broaden, slightly, with this new information. Yugyeom’s got friends, teachers, parents, a boyfriend, all ghosts in the periphery of his being that Jaebum doesn’t know about because he’s never felt it his place to ask.

“Is that so?” Jackson says, in interest. “Well then, why aren’t you staying with him, kid? I mean, it’s better than being stuck here with Jaebum hyung, if you know what I mean.”

“He’s not here now,” Yugyeom replies, in that same clear, truthful tone, as Jaebum kicks Jackson half-heartedly. “I stay with him sometimes when he is.”

“Foreigner?” Mark adds, then, chuckling. “I’ll have you know they’re a good choice.”

“You could say that,” Yugyeom laughs hesitantly in response, but Jaebum doesn’t miss the relief on his face when Jinyoung asks them to stop grilling him already, you’re embarrassing him.

Mark tells Bambam to put on his shoes an hour later, when dusk has just fallen, and the two little boys are having a final speed round of tag around the house before they have to say goodbye.

“Take care,” Jinyoung’s telling them, after having pressed the remainder of the ginseng chicken on them in exchange for the last packet of tripe snacks, and Jaebum doesn’t miss the smug look he shoots him when he presses a kiss on Mark’s cheek. “Don’t let Bambam grow up too fast- Gyeommie’s already showering and dressing all by himself.”

“Bam doesn’t even let me pick his clothes anymore,” Jackson complains. “He says I’m outdated.”

Bambam squeals here, catching Jaebum’s attention- his tiny legs are pumping to carry him away from Little Yugyeom’s slightly longer ones, as he turns back to see how much distance he’s put in between them. They’re getting closer to the adults, crossing the living room to reach the door, but Jaebum barely catches what happens next- Mark shouts out, and it’s followed by a loud screech of the coffee table legs against the floor, and Bambam’s surprised cry.

Jackson’s already rushing from the doorway, and Jaebum’s craning his neck to look over the couch to the table to see what’s happened, but all that apparently isn’t necessary, because Bambam’s already been swept up off the floor, safely in someone’s arms, shell shocked and slightly dazed.

“He almost fell and hit the table tripping over the carpet,” Yugyeom informs, slightly breathless, rocking Bambam gently to calm him down. Jaebum blinks- he hadn’t seen the teenager anywhere near the two boys and their game of tag just now.

“Bam,” Little Yugyeom is running up, worriedly rubbing Bambam’s foot (the only part he can reach) as a form of comfort. “He hit the table edge really loud.”

“He did? No, no, it’s okay, Gyeom, he didn’t,” Jackson’s saying, lifting Bambam from Yugyeom’s arms, while Mark inspects his head. “Look, see? He’s fine, he’s not even crying.”

“He was,” the little boy’s still clinging to Bambam’s ankle, eyes wide with anxious concern. “There was a big cut on his chin near his neck, he was crying a lot and there was blood coming out.”

Jaebum’s now more confused than anything by what his son is saying, but then it’s Yugyeom who pats the little boy’s shoulder with quiet reassurance, like he knows what he’s talking about. “There isn’t now, is there? Bam’s fine, Gyeommie, don’t worry.”

“Wow, thanks, kid,” Mark says, then, looking over at Yugyeom in admiration. “Those were some reflexes, there.”

Jaebum’s eyes flick over to the bathroom door, still swinging slightly from when Yugyeom had left it open, and then to the coffee table, a good few metres away.

“Bambam, thank him,” Jackson instructs, and Bambam dips his head in a bow, still looking slightly dizzy. “Thanks, that would’ve been a pretty nasty fall.”

“It’s okay,” Yugyeom says softly, watching Bambam with a quiet sort of look in his eyes, arms still unconsciously gravitating towards him, as if afraid the boy will fall again, and it’s then Jaebum realises what this is reminding him of- it’s the same thing that’d happened that day with Jinyoung and the pot of soup.

They dissemble quietly after that, Mark and Jackson returning to the front door with Bambam, now, while Jinyoung helps out with Bambam’s bag and the food.

“I guess you’re right,” Mark says to Jaebum, all of a sudden, as Jackson’s putting on Bambam’s shoes by the door, and the man in question looks over, brow raised. “He’s a good kid,” he smiles, looking to where Yugyeom seems to be having a serious conversation with his smaller doppelganger near the coffee table. “If I were you, I’d want Gyeommie to grow up to be just like him.”

“Yeah,” Jaebum says, then, half to himself, still mostly puzzled, but now a little awed, too, before looking back at Mark. “I think I’d want that too.”

a/n: remember what i said about not posting till december T.T

sobs loudly into my sad revision notes

so this was one chapter i've been sitting on since early october, but i eventually decided to just go ahead and finish up + post it T.T hope you all like this, as usual, your comments give me strength!!! ;A; thank you to everyone who's commented so far, really, i reread and treasure every single one of them <333 have a great day guys! (study hard for those who have exams (like me T.T))  huggles u guys