the first thing that yoongi does when he wakes up is check if yeonha is still there.

she’s sleeping with her head pressed against the pillow, on her stomach, and her hand is hanging off the side of the couch. yoongi tucks her in more securely and doesn’t comment on the faint sheen of tear tracks on her face.

yoongi runs a messy comb through his hair and brushes his teeth. halfway through his morning routine, jungkook wakes up and hugs him from behind, sticking his cold nose against yoongi’s neck. he leans against yoongi’s back and makes small, pathetic whining noises.

spitting out his mouthful of toothpaste, yoongi snorts unattractively. “are you a baby?”

“i feel sick,” jungkook says plaintively. he sniffles to make his point. “ugh, my nose sounds awful.”

yoongi frowns and rinses his mouth. he does sound quite bad. made cold by the water, he raises a hand to jungkook’s temple, who feels a little bit more feverish than normal. “is it because of the spring season?”

“i think so,” his poor, sick husband mumbles. he gives another sad little sniff. “i’m gonna make breakfast and then stay in bed all day.”

“i can break out the cereal, if you want.”

“nooo,” jungkook groans. “she’s a high school girl who’s just had a huge fight and big blowout with her mom. i’m going to make something nice, dammit. eat cereal tomorrow.”

“what’s the point if you’re just gonna get her sick, huh,” yoongi says, unimpressed.

“yoongi, i wanna be nice,” points out jungkook.

yoongi’s forgotten how jungkook gets when he’s sick; 90 percent less sassy and 50 percent more whiny. the other 40 percent is just sleep. jungkook sleeps a lot when he’s sick. he also tries to be cute in everything so yoongi will do instead, and unfortunately for him, it works every goddamn time.

he’s doing it now, playing with the waistband of yoongi’s pants and sniffling behind him, rubbing an eye with one clothed fist -

“ah, ing hell,” yoongi says resignedly in the mirror. “i’m going to get something from outside for breakfast, you lie down and stop doing things. sleep.”

“it’s cold.”

“i’ll get you another blanket,” yoongi sighs.

“but hayoung,” jungkook mumbles.

“she’s asleep. i’ll take yeonha out with me to buy something. after breakfast i’ll bring her back to her mom.”

“mmkay,” jungkook yawns. “thanks, hyung. love you.” he presses a sweet, sleepy kiss against yoongi’s cheek and wanders back to their bedroom, most probably to nap the day away in their bed.

a flush rises in him, steady, warm, like a rollercoaster going up. he squishes down his stupid feelings for stupid jeon jungkook and heads out to get breakfast.

/

yeonha is slapping her cheeks constantly to try to wake herself up. she’s not doing a good job of it, if her constantly moving head is any sign. a multitude of yawns escape from , no matter how much she tries to hide them; she stuffs her hands in the pockets of her sweater and shuffles down her feet.

they’re waiting in line for waffles at the nearest train station. it was a bit of a walk, but yoongi spent that time texting jungkook’s boss and telling him that jungkook couldn’t come to work today. yeonha tried to get herself awake and also tried not to think about how she missed a week of school. neither of them mention how antsy she is, or how she sped up quickly past her own apartment door to get out of the building.

yeonha says nothing now, playing around with her phone that has no charge. yoongi settles his own in his pocket, and they wait on line for their turn to order.

“thanks for the breakfast, ahjussi,” she says, shuffling. “i’m - i’ll try to pay you back.”

yoongi huffs and despite himself, puts a hand on top of her head to ruffle her hair. she looks so bewildered by it that it’s hard not to laugh. “forget about the money, kid. i really don’t need it. buy yourself a keychain or a new phone sticker with it, alright?”

yeonha flushes. she pats her head where yoongi’s hands were. “but, ahjussi - “

“you know, i tried running away when i was in high school,” he says softly, interrupting her. no one around them is paying attention to their conversation, but yoongi wants to keep it quiet just in case. he’s staring off at the cart instead of her, because even now it’s kind of painful to talk about - but he knows he has to talk about it anyway.

“my dad, he was a rich guy. had his own business. my hyung became a businessman for him, but that was okay - hyung didn’t really have any other dreams. me? i did.” yoongi falls quiet for a second. “you’re in your last year, right? about to take the college entrance exam?”

“y-yeah.”

“i bet you have no idea what college you want to go to,” yoongi says wryly, and it doesn’t take yeonha’s subtle head-shake to tell him that he’s right. “that’s fine. you’re so young - how are you supposed to know what you want to do for the rest of your life? people rarely do at that age. some people, some people get lucky - they have talent, passion, drive. they know exactly what they want to do. some people are even luckier - their parents believe in them and support them, no matter what field they want to study in, even if they’re unsure. my husband was like that,” he turns to her. “his parents would do anything for him, and their greatest wish was to see him happy.”

“did you know your husband in high school?” she asks timidly.

“no,” yoongi laughs. “no, i - i wish i did. i met him years after. you see, my dad wasn’t a guy you said ‘no’ to. i didn’t want to do business; i wanted to do music. i loved music. i would get up at the crack of down to write down new songs because i would never have time in the day otherwise. my dad, he didn’t get that.” yoongi falls silent for a second. they move forward in the queue. “after the college entrance exam, i took my scores and sent them to the colleges i wanted to go to - to music programs, to art programs. i got in, and i chose to go there instead of some stuffy business school. when my dad found out, he was so furious that he cut me off from the family.”

“that’s horrible,” yeonha says, horrified. “your own dad did that to you?”

“i’ve gotten over it, kiddo,” yoongi smiles gently. “but before i go on - i remember my dad when i was a kid. he used to take me to the basketball court in our neighborhood and we’d play there for hours. we’d sneak ice-cream from my mom because she would yell at us if it we had it so much. he used to carry me in his arms when he would give a presentation to his colleagues; all these memories that seem to get shoved behind the bad ones. he was my dad, and i loved him. he wasn’t always a man of just business. for the longest time, his company didn’t do well at all, until something happened and it then it did.” yoongi scratches the back of his neck. “i guess that’s when he really cut me off, when work become more important than family. me leaving for college only cauterized the wound.”

he doesn’t realize that yeonha is crying again until she’s wiping at her eyes. yoongi takes out the tissues in his pocket, alarmed. “hey, no need to cry now - i’m over it.” that’s a little bit of a lie, but he’s an adult. he’ll survive.

“it’s just so sad,” she breathes. “i mean, i just - “

“but do you know why i’m telling this to you, kiddo?” yeonha shakes her head in the negative. “the year before i went to college, i fought with my dad a lot. we barely spoke to each other if we weren’t fighting. he was never around. and - and i think if i could change one thing in the past, it would be that year. i would want to try and sit my father down and explain to him all my problems. explain to him how music isn’t just a hobby to me. i would want him to understand, because now i don’t have him in my life at all.” yeonha wipes her nose, and yoongi puts a hand on her head again. “you and your mom fight a lot, right?”

“yeah,” she says bitterly. “my dad - my dad left us when we were young. i don’t know where he went, but he never came back. mom kept us going by getting a job and going to online school at the same time. she got enough money to move us here. she works extra hours to pay for a hagwonand she’s always telling me to study, but - “ yeonha blows her nose. “i don’t like studying. i’m not good at it. it takes me a long time to just get one thing my head.”

“have you tried telling her that?”

“oh yeah,” she scoffs. “she just says i’m being lazy, and that i should work harder. ahjussi i promise, i work as hard as i can. i can barely get enough sleep with how much studying i do. i don’t want to even go to college anymore, knowing that all i’ll have afterward is more studying to do. honestly,” and here, she gets a little shy, “honestly i...i kinda want to be a hair stylist. i really love doing my own hair, and i thought - i thought maybe i could go to beauty school for it, but...” yeonha kicks the sidewalk with her feet.

it’s quiet between them for the longest time. there’s two more people left before it’s their turn, and yoongi buys five waffles; two of them are regular, but the other three are chocolate flavored. he asks for a bag and they put one of the chocolate and the two regular in the bag. yoongi starts on his waffle, already starving.

“ahjussi, could we just sit down?” yeonha asks, pointing to a bench nearby. “i don’t really want to stand anymore.” that’s what she says, but yoongi suspects that she just doesn’t want to go home. even still, he acquiesces and sits down on the bench next to her.

her face is blotchy and red from her crying and from the slight chilly breeze. crowds of people walk past them to get to the train station, and no one gives them a second glance.

yeonha is nibbling on her waffle cone when yoongi says, “i think you should tell her.”

her eyes flicker up. “who?”

“your mom. tell her about your dream.” yoongi takes another bite. “keep bothering her. keep bringing it up. keep talking about it. eventually, she’ll see that you’re serious - she’ll see that it’s something you want to do. most things in this world that we love are things we need to fight for.” unbidden, yoongi’s gaze goes to his wedding band, glinting in the early morning sun. “she loves you. she’s your mother - of course she loves you. don’t give up on her, kid...don’t give up like i did.”

yoongi believed at one point that his father didn’t love him anymore, had thrown him away when he wasn’t the perfect child. he wonders, now that he has a daughter of his own, how true that really is. he can’t imagine - can’t even begin to imagine - leaving tiny, perfect hayoung on a doorstep, shutting her against the cold, leaving her all alone. it makes his throat close up just thinking about it.

it’s a calm silence between them, one of reminiscence. yoongi thinks about jungkook unrepentantly, about his eyes under the glinting sun, about his crying in the hospital room. he thinks about his father refusing to see him, his absence at hayoung’s birthday. he thinks of his mother’s shaking hand on his face, of jungkook kissing his tears away and his hair, of jungkook singing to him so he won’t have to think about anything else but the sound of his voice.

“ready to go home?” he asks yeonha, when his own waffle is gone and she’s only finished half of hers.

she looks down at her hands, dirt still scuffed underneath her nails even though she washed her hands twice before leaving, hair a mess pinned at the back of her neck. “i don’t know. i don’t want to. i feel so tired, ahjussi.”

“that’s okay,” he says. “just knock on the door. say that you’re tired and you want to go to bed. it’ll all be okay.”

he waits until she finishes eating before throwing away their wrappers. she’s quiet all the way back to their apartment building. when they reach their three rows of apartments, yoongi stops in front of his apartment; yeonha stops in front of hers. he sends her a worried look, but yeonha just takes in a deep breath.

“thanks, ahjussi,” she says quickly. “for - for the food.” she’s lingering by her door, fingers hovering over her keypad.

“no problem,” yoongi says quietly. he goes in first. a moment later, he hears her door opening too.

/

jungkook’s face while he’s sleeping is somewhat angelic, even if he himself isn’t always as sweet when awake. yoongi leaves the waffles on the counter and kisses jungkook’s brow, feeling sweat line his temples. yoongi uses his cold fingers to cool down his forehead, pushing back his bangs. it’s still pretty early, so hayoung has yet to wake. she looks like she might soon though, with all that moving around in her crib.

yoongi shoots off a quick text to seokjin; jungkook is sick, please feed us. he doesn’t realize that he’s accidentally sent it on the group chat until both jimin and hoseok answer him back.

jungkook is sick? since when does he get sick?! says jimin.

i can bring porridge, if you want, says hoseok, not sparing a second.

yoongi half smiles at these awful friends of his. jungkook is human too, park jimin. can you even make porridge?

hoseok: pfft, who said i was making it? lmao

jimin: my jungkookie TT is he hallucinating, is he feverish, is he dying 
do you need me to call the cryogenics company?

hoseok: what the , park jimin

jimin: he’s so cute hyung, how could you bury that

yoongi stares at his phone for a second. that is another level of creepy, park jimin.

jimin: jungkook loves me, at least. TT i’m going to spam his kakao with texts now, he’ll totally go for the cryo thing. so will tae!!! we’ll be humans of the future, fighting crime!!

seokjin texts in this time too: go to sleep, jimin. i’ll come over later today, yoongi. is jungkook alright now?

he’s got a fever, yoongi sends. just to check, yoongi brings out the thermometer from the bathroom and quietly slips it in jungkook’s mouth. the hollows of jungkook’s neck feels too warm. the thermometer beeps a minute later, and yoongi curses: thirty eight degrees.

he shakes it out and tells the rest of their friends. after that he turns off his phone and sheds his jacket, throwing it to the side. jungkook will probably chew him out for it, but at least then yoongi will know he’s okay.

“hey, babe,” he starts, voice low and soothing, “you’ve got a fever. i need you to wake up, jungkook.” he shakes jungkook gently.

the dark-haired man groans, turning so that he’s more covered by his blankets. yoongi reachers over and presses a dry kiss against his temple. “babe, please, you’re sick. your fever is high; you need to wake up to eat something, okay? jungkook - jungkook, wake up.”

with another noise of pain, jungkook cracks open an eye. he looks like he might cry. his face is flushed red from his cheeks to his nose, and the flush spreads down to his collarbones and chest. he raises an arm to wipe at his forehead.

“i’m not hungry,” he says petulantly. “i just want to sleep, yoongi.”

“i know you do, but you need to eat something - something small, at the very least. i brought you waffles from the street vendor; you want that, or do you want something more soup-like?”

“waffles are okay,” jungkook sighs. “i don’t want to get up.”

“stay here, i’ll get ‘em.”

yoongi ends up feeding jungkook piece by piece, watching as the younger struggles to chew and swallow them. his breathing is shallow and ragged; yoongi has to make him drink water many times just so he can keep it down. by the time he’s done, hayoung’s already awake, standing at the edge of her crib. she’s watching them with curious eyes.

yoongi smiles. “look, kookie - our baby girl is awake.”

for her, jungkook turns his head and wiggles a little finger her way. “hey, my little hana,” he says, voice hoarse. “daddy is a little sick today, okay?”

“dada?” hayoung asks.

“you’re gonna spend the day with papa, okay? it’ll be fun, i promise.”

“hey, a day with me is always fun,” yoongi says, acting affronted.

whereas usually jungkook would have usually rolled his eyes or said something back in the same teasing tone, now he just gives a little laugh that, in all honestly, sounds like a giggle. “okay, sure,” he murmurs, coughing. “ugh, don’t make me laugh.”

“i mean, i usually don’t, so i want to take you laughing at my stupid jokes while i still can,” says yoongi, amused. jungkook does that little giggle again, coughing at the end of it, and he shoves yoongi off the bed.

“go,” he says grumpily, and yoongi grins. how cute.

he heaves hayoung in his arms and she gives jungkook a little wave goodbye, which he reciprocates half-heartedly. she’s babbling “dada” as they’re leaving for the kitchen. she’s still in her pajamas, so after a moment of looking in the pantry and cabinets, he sets out a packet of green tea. hayoung drools a little and yoongi just sighs, wiping it with his fingers.

“let’s go, baby girl. we’re gonna get you all changed and ready for the day.”

he changes her diaper and then puts her in another onesie. yoongi settles her down on their bed, where jungkook is sleeping soundly, and she toddles over to where he is. after a moment she flops down on the bed next to his head. jungkook still doesn’t awaken, not even when she starts her baby talk and tugs on his hair. just for fun, yoongi does it too. still asleep.

his fingers turn gentle around the curve of jungkook’s jaw. raking a thumb over his cheekbone, yoongi marvels at how beautiful he is, still growing more and more attractive by the day. hayoung ends up falling back; she’s like a little roly poly bug, squirming on her back and using her hands to grab at her legs. yoongi huffs and bounces down in the bed next to them both.

“i don’t want to do anything either,” he says to her. “hayoung-ah, take care of your papa. i’m hurting all over. what are you going to do, huh?”

hayoung blows a spit bubble.

yoongi snorts. “she’s just like you, jungkook.”

as if in retaliation, jungkook rolls over and buries his face in yoongi’s shoulder, nose and mouth pressed against yoongi’s bicep. hayoung is still playing with her feet.

his life, good god.

/

seokjin comes in around two to three hours after, with the entire entourage of their friends behind him. yoongi winces when he hears hoseok’s loud, cheerful voice, jimin following after him, and taehyung heading straight for their kitchen. namjoon is holding half of the bags in his hand and seokjin is carrying the other half. they’re all rosy-cheeked and happy, tumbling into his apartment like they belong there.

naturally, yoongi is grumbly.

“i just asked you to come,” he says balefully, staring at the sheer amount of food kim seokjin has brought. who the makes that much food in that little time? seokjin is unnatural, he swears. “i didn’t need the circus crew.”

“that’s so mean, hyung, you love us,” hoseok sniffs.

“besides, we need to be here to support you while the love of your life is sick,” jimin says dramatically, purposefully fawning next to hoseok. they both get into it, starting up what is supposed to be a re-enaction of yoongi’s relationship. jimin falls and hoseok holds onto him with both hands, using a ridiculously deeper voice, “do not worry, my love, we will get you the physician soon.”

“the world is darkening, help,” jimin says, throwing arms around hoseok’s shoulders. hoseok whoops and picks him up, both of them laughing.

“so hilarious,” yoongi says, voice dryer than the sahara desert.

hayoung is in his arms, having refused to come down before. her attention has been taken up by taehyung, who is mumbling to her little poems and rhymes that she tries to follow after. she holds onto his finger when he offers it to her and laughs her fart-sounding baby laugh at him when he does something stupid; so basically, she’s laughing all the time.

jimin notices this and immediately pushes himself into yoongi’s personal space as well. “hey, no fair, we said that we’d put the competition on hold because jungkookie is sick! whoever can take her attention away from jungkook gets points!”

“i just want to play with her for the sake of it, not for a competition,” taehyung sticks his tongue out.

jimin scoffs. “i was there when they brought her home, okay, that’s like being there when she was born. born as a member of the min-jeonhousehold.”

“you’re so petty,” taehyung scrunches his nose up, and jimin nags, “no you’re so petty.”

yoongi wishes dearly that jungkook was awake right now.

“yoongi, i made everything that jungkook and you might need for the next few days,” he says from their kitchen. “the only thing is, i don’t know how jungkook makes hayoung’s food.”

“we usually feed her what we’re eating, except in baby version,” he sighs. “ask jungkook when he wakes up. i always get the proportions wrong when i try to make anything.”

“you could just practice, yoongi, i’m sure you’d get better at cooking too,” seokjin offers.

yoongi sets hayoung down in her playpen, because she’s spotted the light up plastic computer seokjin bought her that plays music when you press the buttons. crawling over to it. a lot of button smashing therefore begins; taehyung and jimin both have knelt down next to her, separated by the mesh net of her pen. they know better than to take her out of her playpen once she’s inside, thank god.

“i would, but i literally have no time, and neither does jungkook. we’re too busy with our jobs or the baby...and when we’re not, we’re resting.” yoongi presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “even on the days when i work at home, i get a ton of conference calls and schedules to follow.”

“plus, he’s just naturally crappy at it,” namjoon offers his two cents. he gets a whack for his troubles.

“that’s mean, namjoon,” seokjin frowns, ignoring when namjoon whines, yoongs is used to it, hyung. “either way, i wrote what’s in each tub so jungkook knows. how’s he doing?”

“i brought medicine,” hoseok offers, waving a little drugstore bag along with the plastic bag of bought porridge. “i told my mom and she gave me a list of things that’ll help him feel better - over the counter stuff and herbal stuff. i have no idea what half of them do, but hey, that’s what the internet is for, right?”

“if it’s herbal, it’s probably tea,” namjoon says.

“jungkook won’t drink it, he doesn’t like bitter things.” yoongi says.

“it’s a surprise he married you, then,” hoseok snickers. yoongi pinches him on the side, hard. he yelps and rubs at the sore muscle. “damn, yoongi-hyung!”

“when you’re toting around a kid all day, you get a little stronger,” yoongi says mockingly. “maybe you should try it out sometime.”

hoseok flushes.

“he’s got a man in his life,” seokjin informs him. yoongi literally double takes; that’s the first he’s heard of it. “seriously. he’s right over there.”

“wh - park jimin?”

“what?” hoseok says, a little defensive.

“nothing,” yoongi’s just - fitting his mind to the picture, that’s all. casually making it so his world doesn’t fall too far off it’s axis. “nothing, i’m - uh.”

“wow,” namjoon says, impressed, “i don’t think i’ve seen him this eloquent since he saw jungkook at their wedding.”

hoseok laughs. “i finally made yoongi-hyung speechless. what a day.”

“shut up,” yoongi says promptly. “shut up and congrats, don’t make me say it again.”

yoongi feels a little awkward, because it sounds crass and cut off and a little rude, but hoseok smiles genuinely at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling upward. yoongi has known hoseok for a long time now; he knows when the other is being sincere. he looks brighter, much happier. “thanks, hyung.”

“how long has jungkook been sleeping?” seokjin asks.

“on and off since morning. he’s got a high fever, so i told him to eat and drink some water. hopefully it breaks by tomorrow.”

“yeah, jungkook doesn’t stay sick for long,” the elder soothes. yoongi uncrosses his arms, something he didn’t realize he was doing. “do you want to take a rest, maybe?”

yoongi tenses. “no, i have to look after hayoung. if i leave her with those idiots, she’ll grow up to be half dumb.”

“i heard that, hyung!” taehyung shouts.

“it wasn’t like i was being quiet,” yoongi yells back.

/

jungkook wakes up at some point in the afternoon, around three. yoongi’s already fed hayoung, changed her, and took a whiff of her head to make sure she didn’t need a bath. she smells like baby powder and softness. yoongi can’t help himself; he hugs hayoung close to his chest and just feels her for a minute, her sweet little murmurs and innocent little gestures at the forefront of his mind. he doesn’t ever want her to grow up; he wants her to stay his baby girl forever.

at this point, only seokjin, namjoon, and taehyung remain; hoseok and jimin have left already, both of them wishing jungkook a speedy recovery. they give their well-wishes to yoongi, too. without jimin around to encourage him, taehyung becomes a bit more quiet.

stumbling in like a zombie, jungkook barely manages to catch himself before he’s pressing against yoongi’s side on the couch. his feet are in the pink socks that seokjin bought him a couple of years back and he’s wearing one of his winter sweaters. yoongi pokes his red nose and tries not to smile too hard.

“what’s wrong, jungkookie? feeling better?”

“worse,” jungkook rasps out, hoarse. “my throat is killing me.” he sniffles a little. “i can’t even smell you anymore, i hate it.”

yoongi snorts. of course, he forgets his husband’s priorities.

“aw, jungkookie,” seokjin says immediately, brushing aside a piece of jungkook’s hair. “you’re burning up, oh my god.”

“it’s not that bad,” he coughs. “i took my medicine. i’ll be fine, hyung.”

“i brought over enough food for the next three days, okay? hoseok brought some teas. put some honey in them instead of sugar, that’ll help with your cough.”

“tea is so bitter,” jungkook groans.

“listen to your hyung,” namjoon berates. he reaches over to ruffle jungkook’s hair. “feel better, kiddo.”

“i have a child, i’m not a kid,” jungkook scowls. the effect of it is lessened by his stuffy nose, giving his voice a thick, nasal sound.

seokjin and namjoon share knowing laughs. “you’ll always be a baby to us, jungkookie - ”

“i have a job, what.”

“ - and yoongi will always be the awful older man that stole you away,” namjoon says soulfully.

“ off, kim namjoon.”

as if by pure muscle memory, jungkook slaps him on the arm. “don’t curse,” he says automatically.

seokjin and namjoon stay around for a little while longer before leaving. jungkook ends up falling asleep on the couch, and yoongi is too tired to pick him up and settle him in their bed again. instead he shifts and lets jungkook sleep peacefully, throwing one of their duvets over him so his feet are warm.

hayoung goes over many times to touch her daddy’s face, to try and wake him up, and yoongi gets her every time. he thinks it’s starting to become more of a game between them now instead of her just trying to get to jungkook. yoongi indulges her.

around the twelfth time that she does it, yoongi keeps her in his arms, blowing silly raspberries on her tiny tummy. she shrieks and yells “papa!”, smacking him on the face and shoulder. he grins. she tries to climb him like a tree and yoongi settles her on his shoulders so that she can blink and “ooh” over the new perspective.

he gets a text on his phone; yoongi checks it to see that it’s a confirmation for his reservation next week. he grins down at it and pockets his phone right after. hayoung leans forward and puts all of her weight on yoongi’s head.

“your parents are going to be married for two years next week, baby girl,” yoongi mock whispers. “don’t tell daddy i have a surprise for him, okay?”

hayoung giggles.