Fluffy cheeks and big, brown eyes blinking furiously at him is the first thing Jackson sees when he wakes up. He registers the knees pressing into his lower abdomen but is too distracted by pretty, sleepy eyes to notice or care. His soul rings with joy at the precious face squishing next to his.  

“Daddy,” Youngjae lisps urgently.

“Hey.” Jackson pats the boy’s head. “Come here, little man.”

Youngjae smiles wide and the man explodes with love so powerful it has the ability to extinguish a wildfire. The little angel collapses in Jackson’s arms, small, chubby body scrunched up on the man’s torso. Jackson sighs in content, patting Youngjae’s cute bottom in utter bliss. He takes the time in which Youngjae falls back asleep to close his eyes and enjoy the weight of his son snuggled on him.

The second time he’s woken that morning is by Jinyoung. Jackson’s eyes open to the relentless shine of the sun. He mentally curses himself for not having shut the blinds last night. His boyfriend leans over to kiss his cheek playfully.

“Aww, that’s it?” Jackson rasps tiredly, a smug grin defiling his lips.

“Youngjae’s here.” Jinyoung laughs quietly, pretty, black eyes crinkled and dimples present. Jackson can’t say that he disagrees. His worst fear is that Youngjae will wander in one night while they’re…ahem, busy, and become scarred for the rest of his life. So he makes extra sure that Youngjae is either with a friend or deeply asleep.

The simple fact that the baby is curled up on him right now only curbs his hunger for Jinyoung’s pale, pink lips and long, soft neck seventy-five percent. The rest he manages through willpower and physical entrapment by the ten kg of precious sleeping like a rock directly on his chest.

“We have an hour after dropping him off before I go to work.” Jackson finds Jinyoung’s smooth hand underneath the sheets, sliding his own in it and interlocking their fingers. “Wanna get freaky in a McDonald’s bathroom, like old times?”

Jinyoung scrunches his face in disbelief and wonder, and a little disgust, probably. “I can’t believe we did that. Youngjae’s going to grow up expecting to hear nice stories about how Daddy met Papa. Should we lie?”

“Why should we lie? I’ll just wait until he’s old enough to have his own wild, unsanitary in fast-food establishments and then tell him. He’ll understand.”

“Hyung.” Jinyoung squeezes Jackson’s hand tight enough to stop the blood from flowing. He gives him the look that means a string of swear words he’s barring himself from saying. It’s kind of scary on this very sunny, very cold Monday morning. “Youngjae’s going to be a gentleman.”

“Are you implying that I’m not?” Jackson gasps theatrically.

After some minutes of charged, awkward silence Jackson actually gets a little pissy. He’s such a gentleman. Yeah, maybe he doesn’t lay out his jacket for Jinyoung to walk on when there’s a puddle but, come on, they’re not in the sixties and Jinyoung has his own damn jacket to shiver in once he’s done being hella extra.

He’s just about to voice this when a tiny yawn breaks in the air and Youngjae starts moving around.

“My baby,” Jinyoung coos before Youngjae has even properly awoken, hauling him off of Jackson’s bare chest, the man shivering at the loss of warmth, and pulling the little boy next to him.  Youngjae cuddles up to Jinyoung like he’s the last bit of oxygen on earth and clings tightly. Jackson swoons quietly.

“I’m not ready,” he confides after a little while. His chest stutters as he takes a deep breath, staring at the mop of dark brown locks swishing with every turn of his head.

Youngjae usually sleeps like the dead.

A few times Jinyoung came in holding an unconscious, immobile Youngjae with heavy concern and slight panic written across his face. His restlessness today must mean that even he feels the change that is to come. Jackson is no more comfortable with the thought of Youngjae being left with strangers than he was last night during his and Jinyoung’s conversation before bed; one in which they explained very slowly and simply to Youngjae what would be happening the next day. He was surprisingly unfazed by the news, a little scared, but not too defiant towards the idea. That’s the only thing they could’ve asked for. But, Youngjae’s early awakening tells Jackson that the little boy is thinking harder about it than he lets on.

“I’m not ready, either,” Jinyoung admits, running his hands through Youngjae’s hair and staring openly, affectionately at his slumbering face, cheeks puffed and expression longing. “I wish he didn’t have to go.”

“We need the money.” Jackson sighs.

“I know.” Jinyoung pouts, eyes boring into Jackson’s sadly. “I know that but I still don’t want to leave our little boy with strangers. What if something happens?”

“I can’t promise that nothing will.” Jackson shakes his head. “But, this place has a good reputation. Tzuyu goes there. We talked, remember?”

“I guess…”

“At any rate, we should get up.” Jackson ducks his hand beneath his pillow, pulling out his phone and checking the time.

7.20am.

7.40am is a trainwreck.

Jackson can’t find any socks in his drawer, Youngjae’s running around with his underwear stretched over his head and face screaming about anarchy (where’d he even learn that word?), looking like a tiny, chubby insurgent, and Jinyoung is probably on the verge of an acutely explosive breakdown. His left eyelid is twitching; things aren’t looking too swell in the Wang-Park household. Who knew preschool was stressful for children and adults? Jackson certainly didn’t.

By some type of black magic, the three of them are heading out of the door, all fully clothed, by 8.30am. Jinyoung looks stylish in his pin-striped suit and Jackson feels stuffy in his standard, three-piece one. Nevertheless, after Jackson straps Youngjae into the car seat of their black truck, they’re off for preschool. The ride consists of Star Wars sound effects, courtesy of Youngjae, as he flails around a green, styrofoam noodle at his stuffed cookie, Charles.

“Gotcha, Charles!” More sound effects. “Do something!”

“Are you excited, little man?” Jackson asks when they’re stopped at a red light. He twists around in his seat. “It’s a big day today.”

“I guess.” Youngjae shrugs noncommittally, eyes wide as usual but not as bright, focus completely on the war waging in his imagination. Jackson tries not to let the lack of excitement in his voice to bother him. That’ll only make it harder to let go later.

They pull up to the stout, red-brick building ten minutes after leaving their apartment’s car park. The front of the building, right above the entrance, is adorned with ‘SUNSHINE ACADEMY’ in vibrant, rainbow lettering. The playful first appearance quells Jackson’s fear some, but not all of the way. He still would like nothing more than to just keep driving, to prop Youngjae on his knee for the entire day while he goes to one meeting after another. But, he can’t. If not for Jinyoung’s having to work as well they would’ve probably only kept Youngjae at home for another year before signing him up for something else. It’s better this way; they agreed upon it.

So, why does Jackson feel like he’s abandoning Youngjae? Why does he feel like the tiest excuse for a father in the entire universe? Is it supposed to be ripping his heart out like this?

“Can’t I just take him with me for another day, Jin?” Jackson asks, nerves already spread thin. “Just another day.”

Jinyoung laughs, which makes Jackson want to scream, or cry, maybe both.

“Hyung, you sounded so sure and confident earlier.” Jinyoung pats Jackson’s hand that’s gripping the steering wheel hard enough for his knuckles to pale. He does so with such confidence and peace that Jackson wonders briefly if he’s been brainwashed in the last hour; how can he be so right with everything in the world when Jackson feels as if his own is falling apart?

“He’ll be okay,” Jinyoung says, dimples present and reassuring. Jackson wants so badly to possess the strength Jinyoung has that he himself is obviously lacking.

“Let’s go.” He’ll just have to feel like a jackass dad for the rest of the day until he can sort out his emotions. Jackson gets out of the car, burying the keys in his pocket, and rounds the trunk to get to Youngjae’s door. He unstraps the squirming boy and picks him up, his arm acting as a seat for Youngjae. He finds warmth and calm in Youngjae’s presence, grounded. The thought of this being absent injects fear into him.

Jinyoung interlocks their fingers and they walk in together.

It’s almost way too easy.

Youngjae walks in timidly, little hand clutching the teacher’s tightly. It doesn’t take any time at all for him to become adjusted, though. A tall, thin boy runs up to Youngjae and grabs his other hand, squeaking something about playing with blocks. He looks a few years older than Youngjae, making Jackson extremely nervous for a reason that refuses to reveal itself.

“I don’t like the look on that kid,” Jackson says to Jinyoung, shaking his head and frowning a little. “He looks like a troublemaker.”

“He looks like a little boy.” Jinyoung sighs. “You’re going to be late for work.”

“I want to know who that boy’s parents are. Do they know what their son is doing?” Jackson is fussing as Jinyoung coaxes him, barely, out of the building and back into the truck.

 

The day is hot and miserable. As expected.

Jackson calls Jinyoung multiples during his lunch to cry over the phone and curse everyone who told him this would be a good idea; everyone is Jinyoung, by the by.

“What would your co-workers think if they were to stumble across a grown man crying in his own damn car, hyung? Go back to work.”

“ my co-workers. They can my di-”

“Hyung!”

 

The day is still hot and miserable, Jackson assesses as he’s standing at the bus stop a few blocks from their apartment with Jinyoung. Even his sweat is aggravated as it dribbles down his back in uncontrollable ribbons.

“Why did we walk?” He’s whining, again.

“I can see the bus from here,” Jinyoung cheers.

Jackson straightens up a little, mood brightening. He doesn’t anticipate Youngjae running off of the bus as soon as the doors open, striped shirt ruffled and khaki shorts stained with dirt, tears sliding down his face and cheeks red from intense crying. He immediately bends to scoop the boy up, cooing and rocking him as he shoots frazzled glances at Jinyoung.

“What happened, baby?” Jinyoung kisses his hair and pats his cheek.

“J-j-jaeb-b-bum,” Youngjae stutters in a sad, strained whisper. “He p-pushed me, papa.”

“Pushed?” Jinyoung and Jackson choke on the word at the exact same time.

Youngjae nods with glistening eyes and coughs desertedly. He snuggles his head into Jackson’s shoulder, hiccupping. Everything that stands for strength in Jackson’s body crumbles. He nods at every one of Youngjae’s broken words during their walk home.

*

“Remember, he’s a kid.” Jinyoung pokes Jackson’s bicep.

“I know.” Jackson rolls his eyes. “You’ve only told me a couple hundred times. I’m not gonna try to beat him up. Jeez.”

The two of them look quite odd, squatting over brightly-colored plastic chairs on an alphabet rug. Jinyoung’s knees are practically glue to his chest. He lets them fall straight, nearly a mile in front of his body. They’ve been watching Youngjae play with some other kids at the sand table for over an hour now. This kid, Jaebum, is on the other side of the room, crashing cars into each other with a few other boys. It makes sense that he won’t try to do anything explicitly mean to Youngjae in front of them. Jackson had tried to reason this to Jinyoung earlier before they both took a day off work to conduct this ridiculous little experiment. It’s not going to work.

Until it does begin to work.

Just as Jackson is finally clocking out, brain shutting down against his will and eyes shutting, it’s noon. The children are in chairs identical to the ones Jackson and Jinyoung are sitting in, except they actually fit in them, eating rice cakes and boiled eggs. Jackson deems it an appropriate time to nap, nothing will happen anyway.

“Ms. Lee,” a high-pitched voice cries out. “Jaebum pushed Youngjae.”

Jackson tenses, eyes snapping open and body clambering up from the chair at once. Youngjae comes running to Jackson, grabbing onto his leg and stomping his feet.

“Daddy!” he wails.

Anger accumulates so fast that before Jackson can pick Youngjae up as originally planned he ends up passing him off to Jinyoung and going over to Jaebum. He bends and tries to direct most of his anger at the boy’s parents instead. That’s where it should be anyway. No child picks up aggression out of thin air.

Jaebum scrunches his face in worry, brown eyes sad. His blunt fringe reminds Jackson of himself as a child. He doesn’t look wholly like a menace. Jackson finds himself softening, voice more cushiony than he’d intended.

“Pushing is bad,” Jackson says, sternly. Jaebum looks between Jackson and Youngjae, head nodding fervently.

“I’m sorry.” He runs over to where Jinyoung is patting Youngjae’s back and whispering soothing things to him.

“I’m sorry, Youngjae-ah,” Jaebum says. Jackson observes Youngjae closely. His expression is sour. He may start crying again. To everyone’s surprise, he bounds off of Jinyoung’s lap and stands directly in front of Jaebum. The taller boy smiles a little.

“I’ll play with you,” Youngjae is saying as he walks back over to the table where the other kids are already back to their own lunches, Jaebum following like a puppy on a leash,” only if you promise not to push me again.”

“I promise,” Jaebum says hurriedly. “I really promise.”

“Okay.” Youngjae is recognizable as their sunshine once more as he sits next to Jaebum, smile big and eyes pretty and bright. Jackson erases himself from the situation, going back to where he’s been sitting for hours, content and ready to sit some more.