The night is relatively warm, but still chilly enough that Heechul cuddled up with his husband. They sit on the scarlet red couch in the living room, their most favorite spot in the whole house. Heechul’s pale thighs sink into the upholstery, his fuzzy-sock-clad feet tucked under his bottom. His arms encircle the younger’s torso, fingers laced at one of his hips. Siwon rubs the elder’s back soothingly as they watch an episode of Chopped, enjoying their time at night together after a hard day of childcare, designing, modeling, driving, and conferences. Sungmin has been quietly asleep for the past hour, when Heechul put him to bed in his crib, and Donghae is presently Skyping with his friends from Korea.

“Chullie, do you remember how we first met?” Siwon asks, his husband’s hair gently.

“Boy, do I!” Heechul cackles, “Did we really meet that way?”

Siwon nods against the elder’s crown. “How about you tell me what ‘way’ you mean, huh?”

Heechul grins, recollects his thoughts, and begins to spin a tale.

~

After Han Geng left, Heechul remained in America with Donghae, having felt no need to suddenly run away from the country he had called home for more than five years.

Heechul continued modeling for another few months while he completed his degree, and then entered the realm of fashion design, where he gained quick success for his innovative garments. His colleagues requested many designs, which Heechul completed with gusto and even added a few extra special touches when he delivered the final products. He earned prestige and a reputation of being an insatiable workaholic with an eccentric personality.

People flirted with him constantly but he turned them all down. Not because he still had feelings for his ex-husband, but because he didn’t want anyone else; Donghae was all he needed. The boy was only nine years old when his adoptive father left, a double-whammy in terms of parental departures since his birth parents died in a car accident. Heechul made sure to raise him right, even as a single dad. He didn’t need a husband or wife to complete his family, not after what Han Geng did to him.

Though Heechul and Donghae were happy in their little apartment in northern California, there was something in Hoengseong County, South Korea that was calling Heechul’s name. Two somethings, actually.

Two years after Han Geng left, Heechul’s father had come down with a rare, incurable disease that prompted him to return home. He never memorized the name of the disease; in fact, he tended to blot out all that had to do with his father, who kicked him out many years ago. Yet he still felt obligated to go home to help his mother and let Donghae spend time with his grandparents for a while.

After a few weeks upon Heechul’s return, he received a letter in his parents’ mail that was addressed to him. Being twenty-eight and still technically a Korean citizen, he was required to complete his mandatory two years of military service. He knew that this was coming. So he and Donghae gave up their apartment and moved his fashion designing abroad.

And he didn’t mind it one bit. This was the other thing that was calling to him; he still felt obligated to his birth country to serve in its military, even though that would mean leaving Donghae in the care of his mother and put a hold on his career.

After witnessing a weeping eleven-year-old Donghae and the death of his father, Heechul left his parents’ place not knowing that he would soon meet his beloved, the man he would live with for the rest of his life.

~

“Yah, you idiot!”

“I’m sorry!”

“Sorry? Now I have to wash my uniform! God, people like you are so inconsiderate!”

“I-I-I’m sorry.”

“Is that all you can say?!” Heechul shrieked, hoisting the taller man up by the material of his shirt. Well, the only thing Heechul managed to move was the shirt; the man was too heavy for Heechul to lift. He was also quite buff, which Heechul noticed upon close inspection and almost regretted picking a fight with him.

“Hey, I’m not trying to pick a fight,” the man stated, stepping back and yanking his uniform from the other’s hands.

“Yeah?” Heechul raised an eyebrow indignantly, “Well I am.”

At the exact moment where Heechul’s fist connected with the taller’s stomach, their troop leader called them out for it and ordered them to clean up the entire mess hall.

A few minutes later, everyone else went out for a short rest before the next training session, leaving only Heechul and the guy he’d punched.

This is all his fault! Heechul kept his nose held high as he mopped the wooden floors. He tried not to look at the other soldier, who was cleaning on the opposite side of the room. Why should he? That guy ruined Heechul’s clean clothes.

As mad as he is, he can’t keep himself from sneaking peeks at the other man. From across the mess hall, he could see the light sheen of sweat that highlighted his forehead, as well as the impressive bulk of muscle that this man had. Well, he wasn’t all muscle; he had this leanness to him that was subtly attractive.

Heechul abruptly turned back to his work. What the heck was he doing, thinking of another soldier in that way? He could get in big trouble.

But did he really care? Not really; he was already in trouble. This big idiot was rather attractive, was all. He had dark hair that looked soft to the touch, even when cut so short. His face was chiseled and his skin was warmly tanned bronze. His eyebrows were thick and expressive, and his lips looked so...delectable.

His eyes were the most beautiful of all. And they were staring right at him.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked from across the room.

Heechul blinked quickly, turning rosy, “Nothing. Your face is just...irritating.”

“What is your problem?” the soldier asked, putting a hand on his own waist.

Heechul shrugged. He was definitely getting bored of the military life, that’s what it was. He missed Donghae, his mom, even his dad, and he hadn’t even cried at his funeral. He didn’t miss Han Geng, or at least he would never admit it, especially to himself. He longed for his calm life back home, in America. In spite of how glad he was to leave at first, he completely regretted it now.

Heechul lifted his fingers up to run them through his long silky hair, but found nothing. His fingertips met with short strands of coarse black hair.

The emotion welled up in him all of a sudden, a wave about to crash. He choked on sobs that were too loud to be a soldier’s, too broken to belong to a man who had everything he really wanted. He dropped his mop and squatted close to the floor, burying his face in his hands. He forgot all about the other soldier; his troubles over the past years simply built up until the tears overflowed. He had never felt so alone.

Among all of the haze that came with crying, Heechul heard a clatter and loud, hurried footsteps. Face still buried in his hands, he barely noticed the warm hand placed on his back until he finally calmed down.

“You okay?” the soldier asked, rubbing his hand in soothing circles.

Heechul looked him in the face and shook his head.

“Is this about the uniform? I can wash it for you, if that’s what you—”

“It’s not that.” Heechul stood up, wiping his eyes. Normally there would be black mascara and red eyeshadow smeared on his fingers if he did that; now he was barefaced in front of this stranger. Barefaced and emotions spread out on the table for him to see.

Heechul soon found himself emptying his heart out to the man who crashed into him and ruined his uniform, the man who didn’t berate him for looking weak, the man whom he barely knew. He told him about his father’s passing, about his mother’s stress about caring for Donghae, about his son and how he was missing out on the child’s elementary school graduation. He even mentioned Han Geng and his life in America. Heechul didn’t understand in the slightest why he was doing this. The man was sure to tattle on him.

“You only have to do this for two years,” the soldier reassured, a gentle smile on his thin lips, “Don’t worry. You are very strong.”

Heechul bit his lip, “You’re an idiot for telling me that.”

The man shrugged, “Whatever makes you feel better, soldier.”

He’s right. Heechul did feel much better after pouring out his petty troubles.

“Thank you...And my name is Kim Heechul.”

The man places a hand on the shorter’s shoulder, “No problem, Soldier Ki—”

Heechul stopped him with a shake of his head, “It’s Heechul, please.”

“Heechul-ssi,” the soldier repeated, “Then you may call me Siwon.”

“Siwon-ah.”

~

Heechul kisses his husband lovingly as he concludes his story. He pulls back, fingers lingering on the younger’s cheeks. Something makes him glance at his watch. “It’s already midnight.”

Siwon shrugs, massaging the elder’s waist, “Tomorrow’s Monday, isn’t it? I’m off of work.”

Heechul nods, sighing and pressing his forehead to Siwon’s, “Should we check up on the kids?”

“Sungmin’s asleep, and Donghae’s either doing homework, texting Hyukjae, or sleeping. He’s fine no matter what.”

Heechul snorts, “We’re horrible parents for letting him stay up so late on a school night.”

“I guess so,” Siwon says, kissing his husband again. He runs his fingers through the elder’s hair, and Heechul groans when he catches on the knots.

“Quit playing with my stupid hair,” Heechul pulls back and pouts. “I haven’t brushed it since this morning.”

Siwon ignores his demand, continuing to brush it with his fingers, “You know I don’t care. It’s beautiful. I’m so glad you let it grow out after our service.”

Heechul blushes, “Me too...”

The Choi couple spends the night asleep on the couch with the television set still on, fitting perfectly in each other’s arms. From their very first meeting, they have been completely, entirely made for each other.

~

Donghae loses track of time, as usual. He was Skyping with his friends from Hoengseong, but they eventually had to leave to do other things. Which is fine by Donghae, because his beloved Hyukjae is texting him about their U.S. History homework.

[Who the heck is Ulysses S. Grant?]

[Look it up, Hyuk. I can’t always do your homework for you.]

[Hae, you’ve been doing my homework since day one. Remember our first project?]

[That one we actually did together, dummy.]

[Really? Hmm.]

~

Donghae was fifteen when he met Hyukjae.

In August, two years after the conclusion of Heechul and Siwon’s military enlistment, he and his parents moved back to America to get married, so Donghae only had a month to get used to California before the school year started. He spent his month at the beach, adjusting to the scorching hot summer sun and studying English like the good boy he was. He had been learning it the whole time he lived in Korea with his grandmother, but felt a sudden need to brush up on some more complicated words and phrases. Just so his peers wouldn’t make fun of him for misunderstanding. They were probably going to for his accent anyways.

In spite of being occupied with each other since the honeymoon, Siwon and Heechul still looked out for Donghae. They didn’t neglect him like Donghae expected newlyweds to do; in fact, they completely doted on him. Siwon showered him with affection, trying to earn his title of ‘step-dad’, and Heechul buried him in love as an apology for being away for so long. They took him to different amusement parks—even Disneyland—and bought him expensive gifts; Siwon cooked mouth-watering meals every day after he came home from work, while Heechul gave his son back massages and candy.

Donghae was definitely grateful for all their pampering, but their love quickly became suffocating, so he was actually glad to be finally going back to school.

He had lived in California before, but that was more than four years ago, and he had no idea what to expect now. Donghae was entering S. Muse High as a sophomore, taking average classes except for math which was significantly below average. On the first day of school, he sat through his classes silently, only speaking when asked to.

Surprisingly, he made a few friends on the first day, one of them being Yuri Kwon, a quirky girl on the soccer team.

“Aiden!” she called his American name at the end of the first week of school, “Be my partner for our project!”

Donghae was too nervous to answer her, but their English teacher quickly responded for him.

“Sorry, Yuri, but I am assigning partners for this one. You two can work together next time.”

Yuri pouted, but nodded and sat back down in her own seat. Donghae smiled and mouthed an apology, which the girl took with a cute grin. He was glad that she was being so open and friendly with him, even though he hardly talked, his nerves constantly in action-especially in an English classroom.

“Aiden, you'll be working with Jae for today.”

Donghae didn't know what to make of the hush that spread through the classroom at the mention of that name. He heard whispers of rumors, small giggles, and one big thump.

A lanky boy in the back corner of the class had lifted his black leather boot onto the empty seat next to him. He had piercing eyes and luscious lips that Donghae couldn't keep from staring at. His hair was dyed a solid electric blue, styled so that one of his eyes was covered.

“Okay, class, you may move to sit next to your partner.”

And those thin fingers that beckoned Donghae over were so incredibly inviting.

As he walked over, he couldn't help but hear the rumors that floated in the air about Jae.

“I want his hair! It’s so chic! Did you know that he’s dyed it almost every color of the rainbow?”

“He rides a freaking motorcycle! How cool is that?”

“He’s such a daredevil.”

“Where the heck did he come from? He’s never here. He wasn’t even here on the first day of school.”

Donghae tried to ignore them, but rumors tend to stick. By the time he finally sat down in the desk next to the so-called “bad boy", he was less sure of what to expect.

Jae took his foot off of Donghae’s seat, “You can call me Hyukjae, if you want. It’s my Korean name.”

Donghae didn't know why his palms were so sweaty; it was only an English project! “Oh, okay. But, uhm, why?”

“You’re the new student, right? Aiden, from Hoengseong?”

Donghae’s head spun at the amount of information this kid had picked up, in spite of being absent all this time. “Yes, but how did you know that?”

Hyukjae chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “I have my ways.”

“You’re creepy.” Donghae stated simply, nerves replaced by a bold bluntness.

“Creepy?” The boy crossed his arms and pursed his lips. Donghae could almost call the gesture cute.

“Yes, creepy. Can we just work on this project now?” Donghae looked back to his notebook, in which he had written down the assignment guidelines.

“You think I’m creepy?” Hyukjae repeated, eyes widening innocently. Wide, sparkling eyes of burnt umber. He blew his blue bangs out of his eyes as he leaned forward, closer to Donghae

“My opinion won’t change no matter how many times you ask.” Donghae raised an eyebrow. “Plus, you’re way too close.”

“Oh, sorry,” the boy shrunk back into his seat and began to rifle through his notes. His sudden shyness didn’t match the rumors Donghae had heard earlier at all. Hyukjae’s plump lips were in a constant pout, and his blue shock of hair wasn’t exactly ‘chic’, more like spontaneous. He didn’t really look like a daredevil or a bad boy, now that Donghae thought about it; not now that he had seen the sweetness underneath that leather jacket and biker boots.

Donghae decided to test the rumors. He leaned over and asked lowly, “Do you really ride a motorcycle?”

The smile that Hyukjae gave Donghae had him questioning everything. His thick lips stretched over his big white teeth, pink gums displayed for all eyes to see. Speaking of eyes, his screwed up entirely, so that Donghae could see nothing but two crescents.

“Yeah, I do.” Hyukjae answered, “Well, I’m working on getting my license. I only ride it around my house and in open areas. It’s pretty hard to learn when your dad isn’t planning on teaching you.”

“He’s strict?” Donghae asked, but then realized that he might be intruding.

“Yup,” Hyukjae affirmed before the other could say anything else. “I’m pretty sure my dad hates me. Probably. But whatever. I have two very lovely little brothers.” He says all of this in a simple, matter-of-fact way, as if he were discussing the weather, and not the way his own father feels about him.

“That’s nice,” Donghae smiled softly, “I’m an only child. Adopted, too.”

“Cool!” Hyukjae commented innocently, “I’ve always wanted to get to know someone who’s adopted. What are your mom and dad like?”

“I actually have two dads.” Donghae didn’t know why he was spilling out his personal information to a stranger. A stranger who had the oddest rumors about him, too! And who knew what Hyukjae could think about Donghae’s parents being gay.

“That’s awesome.” Hyukjae’s eyes were practically popping out of their sockets. “I mean, even though my dad’s pretty uncool, having two dads is something different. My brother Henry is friends with this kid who has two dads too. Actually, Zhoumi too. It's the same family, this new one on our block, and they have three super sweet kids. Well, except for one who's a bit of a brat.”

Donghae warmed up a little bit more. “Thank you for saying that. You’re not at all what they say.”

“Oh,” Hyukjae waved his hand as if dashing the rumors away. “I’m really not.” His tone suddenly became serious, “But don’t tell anyone.”

“Why?” Donghae glanced around, noticing that there was not a single soul paying them any attention.

Hyukjae leaned back again, “It’s kinda my thing, being the bad boy here. It gets me the girls, and teachers expect less of me. My little secret act.”

Donghae rolled his eyes, “Whatever, Hyukjae. Let’s get this project started now.”

“Aiden—”

“My Korean name is Donghae, if you wanted to know.”

“Okay...Donghae.” Hyukjae replied with a twinkle in his eye, “I think we’ll be great friends.”

~

Jungsu has to attend parent conferences for the two little ones this morning. He puts on a crisp dress shirt, nice pants, and sleek shoes. He looks at himself in the mirror, something he hardly cares to do in spite of what Heechul always tells him.

He looks good: clean and businesslike. He just needs a watch.

There is a special watch drawer in Youngwoon and Jungsu’s bedside table. He opens it up and digs inside for his nicest watch. Then he happens upon a piece he hasn’t seen in a while.

He lifts it out of the drawer. It is rather old, possibly more than ten years old. Well-worn but not entirely ruined, and the band is still a nice shade of gold. The face of the watch is stuck in time at ten o’clock, the hands not moving one bit.

Jungsu smiles at the memories that come with this exact watch.

~

Jungsu was only 21 when he met Youngwoon. He was working part-time at Principessa as a busboy, and he had just started his job there, not knowing in the slightest that he would love it and be working in the same restaurant for more than ten years.

One late evening, Jungsu was wiping down one of the plum-colored booths. There was an incessant pop song stuck in his head, and even though he disliked it, humming the tune helped pass the time until he could return to his apartment and study for his management class.

“Excuse me.”

Jungsu stopped humming and turned around. There was a slightly taller man standing before him in a grey dress shirt and beige slacks. He was a tad round about the middle, and had a youthful face with a strong jaw and smiling eyes. Jungsu’s heart played hopscotch in his chest.

“You’re staring.”

“Uh, sorry, sir.” Jungsu blinked quickly, shaking off his daze. He blushed in embarrassment. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yes, I believe I left my watch here.” The man smiled sheepishly, “Have you found one while you were cleaning?”

Jungsu shook his head, “No, but I haven’t finished cleaning yet. Maybe it’s under the table.” He scrambled under the table to get away from that lovely face. Well, also to find that watch.

He didn’t know why he got on hands and knees down on the floor to search for a silly accessory; he knew very well that the floors hadn’t been cleaned yet and his uniform was guaranteed to be filthy. Oh, well.

Jungsu searched in the near-darkness and eventually found a watch in a corner. He wiped off a smudge of dirt with his rag. The band was a gorgeous shade of gold and it looked quite expensive. Jungsu wondered how wealthy this man was, how old he was, who he was. He was so incredibly handsome.

“Found it!” Jungsu exclaimed, moving just a tad too fast and bumping his head on the underside of the table, “Ouch!”

“Are you okay?” he heard a voice say and felt an arm assist him up. Everything was disorienting for a second, but then he realized whom the voice and arm belonged to.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jungsu reassured, stepping back slightly, “I’m fine. I do that a lot.”

The man raised an eyebrow at him, “That’s probably not good. Oh, you did find my watch. Thanks.”

Jungsu was frozen in his spot at the smile that the man gave him; he almost forgot how to breathe. How could someone possibly be so beautiful? And why did he have to encounter him now, when there were dishes to wash and other tables to wipe?

“Staring again,” the man smirked, “You do that a lot, too.”

Jungsu flushed, shoving the watch into the man’s hands, “Here. This is yours.  Thank you for coming to Principessa.”

“Don’t worry,” the man clasped his watch onto his wrist, “I’ll be back for another meal soon.” The look in his eyes was unreadable.

Then he left, questions trailing behind him. And Jungsu wanted answers to every single one of them.

~

The first time he met the Kim couple is one that Kyuhyun can never forget. Jungsu is the first smiling face that he can remember, and Youngwoon is the first father he has ever had.

Kyuhyun had parents. Well, he had a mom. He does remember her—well, only vaguely. He remembers her warm scent of freshly-baked apple pie, the soft texture of her hands as they held his own, and her long, curled burgundy hair. But that’s about it. He doesn’t remember her name, what her face looked like, what she did for a living other than take care of Kyuhyun as a single mom. He was only three when she got in a car accident and left him to child services.  

He doesn’t even remember her smile. When he thinks of his mother, all he can picture is Jungsu’s toothy, lone-dimpled grin. And when he hears “Dad” or “Appa", he pictures Youngwoon even though he doesn't really want to.

~

“Kyuhyun!” one of the caretakers called from downstairs, “A nice family is coming to see you in an hour! Please wash up and put on a nice outfit!”

In his shared room, five-year-old Kyuhyun was playing with a set of toy cars one of the other caretakers bought him for Christmas. He heard the lady, but didn’t really care. He had done this many times before, but nobody wanted him. He was the odd child; really smart, but not what parents wanted. He wasn’t exactly cute to them, and the drawings he made were borderline disturbing. He scared off his fair share of parents, usually on purpose with pranks. He wasn’t a normal five-year-old.

He had watched other kids leave this room and new ones come in, and even though he had only been here for two years, it felt like far too long.

“Kyuhyun, did you hear me?”

“Yeah!” he yelled down, completely fed up. But he went to the bathroom to wash his face anyways, and then he picked a clean outfit from his drawer of clothes. He didn’t bother checking how he looked in the mirror, rushing down the stairs to hurry this meeting along as fast as possible. If he could skip over it, he would.

He just missed his Mommy and wanted to see her again. All these parents wanted to replace her, and Kyuhyun didn’t like that at all.

An hour passed by while he played with a few of the other kids and then it was time. The caretaker led him in by the hand, into that small room at the end of the downstairs hall with a big table in it and wooden chairs that squeaked when sat in.

What he saw when the door opened was entirely new, making him rethink his plans to prank the couple.

Instead of the expected mother and father sitting in the chairs on the opposite side of the table, there were two men. Brothers, maybe? Kyuhyun wondered, because they didn’t look related. One had strong shoulders and a pleasant eye smile, while the other had dyed-blond hair and a dimple that punctuated his grin.

“Kyuhyun,” the caretaker gestured politely toward the pair, “this is Youngwoon and Jungsu Kim. Please greet them.”

Kyuhyun looked back at them. Youngwoon was leaning back in his chair with an observant expression, while Jungsu leaned forward with an eager smile.

“Are you two brothers?” Kyuhyun blurted out.

“Kyuhyun!” the caretaker sounded exasperated, “I asked you to introduce yourself.”

Though she seemed offended, the Kim couple certainly did not. They both shared a knowing glance and small smiles.

“Sorry,” Kyuhyun muttered, then tried to be more polite, “Hello. My name is Kyuhyun. I am five years old.” He showed them his age with a hand in the air, all fingers splayed. “And my favorite subject is math.”

“Mine too!” Youngwoon smiled, “I’m a math teacher, if you wanted to know.”

Kyuhyun shrugged, “I didn't ask, but thanks for telling me.” He could feel the caretaker’s eyes boring holes in the back of his head, disapproving of his attitude.

“Well, I'm not very good at math,” Jungsu gave the boy a weak smile, “Maybe you can teach me?”

Kyuhyun liked him.

“Maybe I can!” the boy grinned, “As long as you give me candy!”

Jungsu chuckled and Youngwoon shook his head.

“No candy for you, Kyuhyun,” the caretaker interrupted.

Having had enough of her, Kyuhyun was about to retort rudely, but Jungsu did it for him, albeit much more nicely.

“Excuse me, ma'am. Could we talk to Kyuhyun alone for a few minutes?”

The caretaker bowed her head politely and exited the room.

Kyuhyun looked back to the men, “Now are you going to answer my first question?”

Jungsu smiled again, an expression that stretched across his face, creating thin wrinkles here and there that did not take away from his eternally youthful looks. Youngwoon didn't say anything.

“We aren't brothers,” Jungsu said, “We're married.”

“But I thought-”

“Whatever you thought is wrong, kid,” Youngwoon muttered. Kyuhyun quickly decided he didn't like this man.

Kyuhyun stuck his tongue out at him, which Jungsu didn't see as he turned to berate his husband, “Youngie, be nice to Kyuhyun. Don't you want him to be our third son?”

“Third son?” Kyuhyun’s eyes widened and he leaned closer to the Kims on the table. He had never had siblings, or a father—let alone two of each!—and the thought of having them all was enticing.

“Yes, we have two others,” Jungsu fumbled through his wallet for photos. He took one out: in it, two boys were playing hopscotch. “The one with black hair is Jongwoon: he's ten. And the one with brown hair is Ryeowook. He's a tiny bit older than you.”

“Jong-moon? Ryeo-what?” Kyuhyun questioned, mind abuzz with names more complicated than his very own, “I can't say those.”

Jungsu chortled, “Well, they're Woonie and Wookie for short. We'd have brought them to meet you too, but that lady from earlier wouldn't allow us.”

“What? Really? She's so mean! I don't like her!” Kyuhyun exclaimed.

Jungsu leaned in close to the boy, cupping his hand around his ear and whispering, “Me neither.”

Kyuhyun laughed for the first time in a while, since he managed to cut one of the visiting parent’s pants open at the backside.

He liked Jungsu, he really really did. In the few minutes that they talked, Kyuhyun realized just how much this man reminded him of his real mother.

“Your name's Jong-swoo?” Kyuhyun asked, innocently.

Jungsu smiled and shook his head, “If you really want to...you can call me ‘Umma' instead.”

“Umma? What's that mean?”

“It means ‘Mom' in Korean.”

Kyuhyun’s grin spread so wide that his cheeks hurt.

A/N: Hey guys! Another update heehee~ (ALMOST 5k THIS CHAPTER OMG i dont even know how many i usually write) Hope you all enjoy it! The next chapter shall be my last update until I leave the country for a 3 week vacation! (DEPENDING ON IF I HAVE WIFI OR NOT, i may or may not update chapter eight in time.)

Just a disclaimer: pardon me for any inaccuracies in portraying Korean military service and child adoption in this chapter. I did quite a bit of research in a short amount of time, but it still might not have been sufficient enough.