That time when Yifan had a day off.

Yifan had the day off today, which is great - fantastic, even - but it'd be even better if his husband was around. Because despite it being his day off, Chanyeol had left Yifan a list of stuff to do at home - like throwing out the garbage, paying the bills, cleaning the house and doing the laundry.

Why is the day that you do laundry, clean, iron and so on, called a day off, anyway? Yifan thinks as he sighs for the nth time, running a hand through his hair as he prays for Chanyeol to be back soon, especially when the rampant beeping of the washing machine rings in his ears and he has no idea what, how or why this is happening. He vaguely recalls stuffing their laundry inside, placing the detergent in and hitting a few buttons and it was as if the machine grew a mind of its own. It has been beeping nonstop for the past fifteen minutes now and Yifan was growing an uncontrollable urge to break this goddamn thi-

"Appa!"

Yifan turns around and is face-to-face with his now teenage boy, Sehun. Gone were the days of adorable cooing and cute nicknames like 'FanFan' and 'ChanChan'. Sehun is sixteen now and has just arrived home from school. Great! Someone who can finally help him deal with this godforsaken washing machine.

"Ah, Sehun," Yifan sighs in relief as Sehun drops his bag, shuffling inside their little laundry room. Surprisingly, Sehun had a sudden growth spurt as if he was sharing genes from Chanyeol and Yifan, so it's no surprise that his son's long limbs struggled to get over the basket and clutter around the little room. "Thank god, you're here, I've been having a hard time with this thing. I don't know why-"

"It happens a lot." Sehun says and kicks the machine twice and just like magic, it hushed, whirring silently in peace. Sehun grins back to his father. "Well, that's what Papa said. You should listen to him sometimes."

"I do listen to him." Yifan looks at his son indignantly.

"Yeah, so as long as it doesn't involve household chores." Sehun snickers and evades a little headlock from his tall father. Sehun's long limbs knock over the basket and he uses the distraction to run away, sticking a tongue out and taking his bag from the floor before scurrying off to his room.

"Sehun!" Yifan barks as his son's laughter quirks his little frown upside down. He sighs and shakes his head, taking the basket off the floor before walking over to the kitchen to get himself something to drink. He had finished taking out the trash, paid the bills and cleaned the house (not that it really needed any cleaning to begin with) earlier. All that's left was the laundry.

As he heads to the fridge feeling ten times better for having achieved so much on his own, he smiles even wider at the little note Chanyeol had pinned to the refrigerator earlier in the morning before he left for work; right near Sehun's drawing of Chanyeol with the bright yellow sun behind him.

Thank you for your hard work, Fan ;)
- Chanyeol

Yifan chuckles lightly at his husband's resurfacing playfulness. It has been years since that night in their bedroom, when Chanyeol was so close to his breaking point only to have their son interrupt their chaos, pure innocence in his eyes. Since then, Chanyeol began to slowly pull himself together, to put the pieces of his broken mind back so he can finally have peace. He started to listen more to the doctor's and Yifan's advices to stop the panic attacks himself instead of having to depend on them. He started eating right again, started getting some sleep, started getting back to work, started asking for help if things were too much for him and - the best part (for Yifan, at least) - started getting intimate again.

It was also great that Sehun finally knew of Chanyeol's disorder, granted that it wasn't done in a way that the parents ever considered. Yifan thought back to that time; when Sehun was only twelve and again, it was just him and Chanyeol at home when the latter suffered a panic attack.

Chanyeol had been counting the bills when there was a slight miscalculation in their last month's rent. Suddenly, Chanyeol's mind blanked out, only to have a dozen things come flushing in. Immediately, he was having difficulty breathing as he began to think of the worst possible scenarios - them being evicted, them having to start from scratch, them having to move to another neighborhood, and what if that neighborhood was dangerous? What if Sehun would get picked on because he had two fathers? What if, what if, what if?

Chanyeol tried to take deep breaths, counting from zero to ten and will his mind to stop reeling the thoughts that continued to surge forward. It was then when he realized his first mistake.

He had not taken his medication.

He coughed a strangled cry, panic close to breaking point. How could he have forgotten about his medicine? How could he have let it slip off his mind? Was it because he dropped his guard, thinking that things were finally getting better? How naive was he to think of such things? And just as he was about to collapse from the lack of air in his lungs, a gentle tap on his arm knocked him out of his terror.

"Papa?" Sehun asked, "What's wrong?"

And Chanyeol gazed into his eyes; warm, nonjudgmental eyes and it broke him. How long was he going to pretend he was fine in front of his son? He gulped as he thought back to that night years ago and came to a decision. He stood up from his chair and knelt in front of his son, taking him in his arms.

And he softly and slowly told him everything.

When Yifan got home, silence greeted him. That scared him to bits. He walked into the living room to find his husband and son, the small head atop Chanyeol's lap, their eyes closed in gentle slumber. Near them, on the coffee table for everyone to see, were the bottles of Valium usually kept hidden from innocent eyes.

"-ppa!"

Yifan blinks as his reverie was abruptly interrupted. He turns to see Sehun ogling at him as if he was new to the house. "...Er... What?"

"I've been calling for you," Sehun says and he walks past his father to grab a bottle of banana milk from the fridge. Yifan notes that it's probably due to that as well that his son's growing so fast. "I got a text from papa today."

"Oh?" Yifan says, finally getting himself something to drink. He places the glass after finishing it in one go down into the sink and turns to his son. "What did he say?"

Sehun's eyes turn slightly away from his father before they fall back onto him. "It's just..." He pauses and rubs the back of his neck, "The schedule this week with the doctor."

Yifan bites his lip and shuts his eyes. Right. He almost forgot about that. He nods his head in understanding, "I see." He says and smiles at his son. "What did you tell him?"

"That I'd tell you." Sehun says, taking a sip off his banana milk. "And that you're going to talk to him."

"Good boy." Yifan smiles and Sehun rolls his eyes at the compliment. "But why did he text you when he could've texted me? Weren't you at school?"

Sehun shrugs, "Probably because you were snoring to your heart's content when he had the sudden jitters." Sehun snickers at the little glare Yifan was giving him, almost silently telling him that he does not snore at all. "And maybe he just needed someone to talk to as soon as possible. It wasn't a big deal, really."

Yifan smiles and walks over, ruffling his boy's hair much like how he used to when he was four years old. "You're the best, Sehunnie. What would we ever do without you?"

"Argh!" Sehun growls, pulling his head back. "Stop that!"

"You used to like it when I patted your head." Yifan frowns a little but Sehun gives him a deadpanned look.

"I was four, appa." Sehun says and he finishes his banana milk in a few gulps. "And you'd be swimming in detergent by now if it wasn't for me." He snickers, evading another headlock from Yifan.

Yifan crosses his arms, a playful smile on his face as his son walks around the counter, taking a comfortable seat on the stool nearby. "You've gotten really spunkier lately, Sehun. You aren't hanging out with the wrong crowd, right?"

"What," Sehun gasps, completely taken aback by the accusation. "You are seriously stressed over household chores, appa."

"Don't make this about me." Yifan takes an apple from the nearby fruit basket and holds it up, ready to throw it to Sehun's direction when he pauses and remembers how Chanyeol would always wash and wipe the fruit (thrice to be exact) before giving it to either of them.

"Appa?"

Yifan looks up from the red fruit and sighs, eyes glancing sideways, "Sehun, do you..." His voice fades as his thoughts play in his mind. "Do you think that your papa... Do you think Chanyeol would get better someday?"

And he's not asking this as if he's doubting the chance or that he's not appreciative of Sehun's participation now but... it's tiring. He's been taking care of Chanyeol since the first extreme signs of his anxiety disorder began showing, probably even before he had a name for it. He's been holding on, keeping himself strong because he has two people he wants to protect. He's been working hard and keeping his heart firm but there are times when it's all just too much and he's just tired. He really is.

He's just asking if there is an inkling of a possibility for that day to come sooner; that day when he could just watch Chanyeol and not worry about an incoming panic attack, not worry about having to comfort him overnight as his thoughts continuously haunt him, not worry about buying supplies of his medications day in and day out. He's just asking.

Because he's tired.

Sehun is silent for a few moments as he watches his father before he smiles, it's not like the childish smile he gave them years ago but it's still so... Sehun. "Of course." He says and his smile turns to a grin, "And appa, I don't need a second worrywart parent now."

Yifan shakes his head, turning around to place the apple under the faucet's running water before wiping it. Throwing it to his son, who catches it easily, he smiles in return. "Go and get the laundry for me, Sehunnie."

Sehun's smile vanishes and he groans as the washing machine timely chimes in the background.

Chanyeol has never been fond of hospitals, so it really is a surprise that he ended up working in one as a nurse. The organized clutter and familiar scent of disinfectants always reels him back to his disorder, to how he used to be. It's a really awful reminder, sometimes, especially today when he's extra antsy. He sighs for the nth time, foot lightly tapping on the floor as he bites his lip, scribbling a few notes on a patient's record. A poor distraction for himself.

He tries not to think about it but he can't. It's always like this every time his scheduled appointment with his doctor is fast approaching. He becomes nervous, anxious and restless - a single raw nerve exposed to the elements. It was worse before, which was why he would stop working altogether and just become a recluse. Now that he's improved after time, medications and healthy habits, he can at least go to work but the jittery feeling is still there. It's almost a subconscious reaction, a reflex, and he really wishes it would go away soon because he doesn't want to go downhill again.

"Everything all right?" A pat on his shoulder competely knocks the living daylights out of him. He drops his pen and the records fly out of his hand.

"S-Sorry," He stammers and bends to pick his stuff back up. His co-worker, a nurse stationed at the emergency room chuckles softly, helping him.

"Nope, my bad. I didn't know you were so into writing records." He teases lightheartedly. "Had I known, I would've gladly given you mine to work on."

Chanyeol tries to smile but his nerves simply make it look like he was having severe gastric pains. He shakes his head and shuffles the papers in the folder haphazardly. "It's okay. I mean, no, never mind. Th-Thank you."

His friend raises his eyebrows, concern in his eyes. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Chanyeol sighs and smiles, though his eyes don't exactly meet with his co-worker's. "It's okay."

His co-worker was about to ask again, out of concern, when the speakers in the hall chime. "Oh, I have to get back to my station." He taps Chanyeol's arm as a courteous gesture and jogs down the hall to the elevator.

Chanyeol breathes a sigh of relief. He's not yet so open to letting other people know what he's suffering from. He doesn't need the pity in their eyes to make him feel worse. He's already feeling terrible with this uneasy feeling in his gut and mind. So, he hides it from his friends, seniors and co-workers. He doesn't tell them that it's not so easy writing patient records, not when his head's continuously chanting questions and remarks of what he should've or could've asked before leaving the patient's room. He doesn't tell them that he's always in a constant battle of wits with himself and that it's really... tiring.

He looks down at his watch. His shift is ending soon and it's just as well because he really wants to go home. He wants to be with Yifan and Sehun, to be with their familiar presence because his mind instantly calms down whenever he's with them. He smiles to himself as he walks to his station, records and pen in hand.

I wonder if the laundry's been made. He thinks with a soft chuckle.

"Appa! How many pairs of socks do you have?!" Sehun whines as he folds, for the twentieth time, another pair of freshly washed, lemony-scented socks.

"You're exaggerating, Wu Shixun."

"I don't need you spouting my Chinese name at a time like this." Sehun throws his father's pair of socks at him. "If papa was here, this'd be done in a second."

"Well, I apologize for being domestically useless." Yifan pulls the socks away from his face as he sees his son huff, rolling so that he was sprawled on the floor. The elder rolls his eyes, blaming it on adolescent hormones and pubertal tendencies.

"I'm not even supposed to be doing these chores! Didn't papa say that this was your job?" Sehun cries again, covering his face with hands as he lies on the wooden floor, a sea of laundry all over the place, encircling them.

"Quit your whining and get to work." Yifan chuckles, throwing the socks back at his son. "We're both sinking in the same boat here. Chanyeol doesn't need to see this mess as soon as he gets home."

Sehun sits up and throws the socks aside to the same pile before throwing his father a look, "This is child abuse."

"No, this is family bonding." Yifan says, folding one of Chanyeol's scrubs. He smiles as he perfectly folds it up and adds it to the set ready to be placed in their closet. "Isn't this fun, Sehunnie? Folding freshly washed clothes with your appa?"

Sehun's groaning and whining were music to Yifan's ears.

But then the door unlocking knocks them both out of their playful bickering. Eyes wide and gawking at the other, they simultaneously turn their heads to the door, watching it open, revealing a tired Chanyeol in his navy blue scrubs.

"I'm home," Chanyeol greets, eyes closed as he stretches his neck back, rolling it so that it cracks in the right places. He then rolls his shoulders, holding onto the bag strap resting atop it. "Yifan? Sehu-"

And he stops because the sight was nothing he had never expected to come home to. All over his clean, shiny wooden floors were streams of clothes - unfolded, messy and just... there. In the center of it all were Seh