Hello everyone. This is Shin Hyesung. Did you miss me? Of course you didn’t, hahaha.

Before I start my show, I’d just like to thank everyone who sent in their messages and well-wishes to my son. I know I don’t really talk about him on here as a personal rule, but on his birthday, I feel like he deserves some sort of shout-out, even if it’s already too late for him to be listening in.

Um, let me see, what can I tell you? He is now seven and is growing tall. When he stands next to me, his head bangs against my ribs. He is very active and is doing well in school. He has also met some new and special friends there. He even speaks to me now in English! He’s so good at it, he amazes me. We celebrated his birthday last weekend and it was terrific. He even did my ending ment with me. He’s growing up way too fast…

The next song I’ll play will be for him. If you will allow me this once to be cheesy, I’d also like to say: my entire life is a song, actually, dedicated to my son.

This is Sweet Child of Mine by Guns n Roses, for my English-loving boy. Everyone, please enjoy.

--

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--

“…there’s not much on SNS either. I’ve tried to dig up more info but no dice.”

“I’m not interested—”

“You said I should look it up.”

“That was a joke, ’s sakes…”

“Sajangnim!” Both Minwoo and Eric jump as the graduate student on shift peeks into the kitchen. “Table 4 is asking for a follow-up on their persimmon salad.”

The salad in question is still lacking the final garnishing of pomegranate seeds, crunchy salt, crumbled goat cheese and warm pine nuts; Minwoo had kept distracting him and taking up unnecessary space in the kitchen, blocking access to the main fridge and talking non-stop about his newfound discoveries on Hyesung (none of which he could have not found out himself…not that he did…not that he cared) that Eric had to be thrice as careful that he didn’t end up slicing any of his fingers open. He glares at the shorter man, but Minwoo, unrepentant creature that he is, only stares back at him with a look of equal defiance.

“Move.” Eric growls as he reaches for a pomegranate from the fruit bin and deftly slices it open before proceeding to tap it hollow with a wooden spoon. On the plate where the thin persimmon slices are arranged delicately like a dozen small suns, the pomegranate seeds scatter like tiny jewels.

“Eric!”

It’s just past the lunch hour on a windy Wednesday, five days after Junjin’s party. The crowd is usually sparse at this time, before swelling considerably by the late afternoon as people grow peckish before dinner. He wishes Minwoo would use the time more productively.

“Shouldn’t you be outside taking orders? Or checking our books?” Eric flips the cast-iron skillet where he’s toasting pine nuts.

“Taehwa can take the orders. He hasn’t told me of any yet so I’m assuming there aren’t any. And our books are fine, but do you hear what I’m saying?”

“Why are we even having this discussion!”

“Look.” Minwoo practically clambers over the butcher block to get Eric’s attention. “Isn’t it weird how there’s so little information on him and his wife? And it’s all the same too: that he’s been married, that he has a son with her, and that they divorced.” He tails him in the small space as Eric opens and closes cupboards looking for ingredients. “There aren’t any gossip articles or speculative news…and you know there should be some. Korea loves gossip!”

“I wouldn’t know.” Eric says, huffily. He crumbles goat cheese beneath his gloved palms and sprinkles it carefully over the salad. The small particles look like snow over an arid desert. “And frankly, should I care?”

“The point is…I don’t like it.”

“Tough. None of us actually care who Shin Hyesung is. Stop obsessing over him.”

“Sajangnim!” Taehwa calls again, rapping the counter to get their attention. “One Americano special and two matcha snow latte, please. Tables 6 and 10.”

“We’re not done here.” Minwoo says as he walks towards the kitchen exit, his head still turned towards Eric. “I have to do some more digging…maybe I’ll ask my parents.”

“Just go!”

Eric considers hauling him out if he insists on staying, but the other man is already past the doors, retying his apron and adjusting his cap as he re-enters the café and heads towards the bar. Eric shakes his head exasperatedly as he squeezes lemon juice onto the finally finished salad before he places it on the counter and rings the bell, and Taehwa appears within seconds to take it to the waiting customer. With no new orders coming in, Eric is able to lean back against the kitchen island and breathe. There are knots in his shoulder and a crick in his neck. His feet are aching from standing upright for the past six hours. Yet the mention of Hyesung so abruptly and without any provocation has made him feel almost giddy, his heart in his throat as his face flushes warm. He rubs the back of his neck to ease the tension that’s settled in his muscles.

It’s the heat, he thinks. It’s too hot in this kitchen. He neglects to notice that there’s nothing cooking on the stove to substantiate his claim.

“Eric!” Minwoo calls this time, peeking through the service window. His voice is nearly drowned out by the gurgling of the espresso machine. “Take over for Taehwa manning here, will you? He has to clear up the dishes in the sink before his shift ends.”

Eric sighs but doesn’t decline, pushing all thoughts of Hyesung out of his mind. This isn’t right, this isn’t right… he chastises himself as he shoves his body off of the island and reverses the direction of his baseball cap so the bill is facing forwards as he passes through the kitchen doors. Focus, man. C’mon.

It isn’t too difficult however once Minwoo throws him a spare rag and he switches places with Taehwa who’s in the middle of clean-up duty. He likes working with his hands; it gives him something to fixate on without giving much airtime to his overthinking brain. He’s wiping down Table 3 when the wind chimes at the entrance tinkles, signaling that someone has entered the café.

“Welcome to the Wolf and Rabbit!” Eric calls out without looking up, before straightening to greet the customer face-to-face. “How can I—”

The words die on his tongue as he takes in the full sight of Shin Hyesung in front of him, not even looking the slightest bit out of place amongst the offbeat and upscale Hannam-dong crowd in his dark jeans, graphic shirt, and tan field jacket. His eyes are hidden behind dark sunglasses and he’s bathed in the October sunlight streaming in through the large picture windows installed on the main side of the café; bone-white and almost fluid, it turns his hair the color of burnt cinnamon. He regards Eric with an unsure expression, his lips pressed together and his forehead creased in thought. Eric bites the inside of his mouth to stop himself from saying anything he may later regret.

Holy .

“Uh…” Hyesung says. “Hello.”

Eric’s tongue feels rusted over. “Hello.” He says, feeling somewhat detached from his own voice. He gestures towards the table he’d just been wiping down. “Um…Have a seat?”

Hyesung hesitates, and Eric wonders if he’s even there at all and not an illusion borne from having skipped his usual coffee that day. The other man clears his throat and takes a step forward, before sliding into an empty booth by the window, different from what Eric had indicated. He clasps his hands, soft and white and unfurled like lilies, on the table.

“Too bright.” He mutters, but loud enough for Eric to hear. Too stunned to move, Eric can only stare at him until Hyesung sighs and adjusts the blinds himself.

“Cat got your tongue, Eric Mun?” he says, raising an eyebrow, sitting back again with a huff. He pulls off his sunglasses and hangs it on his shirt by one of its stems. His face is wearing his usual mask of careful indifference. When he squints under the sunshine still bleeding through the fabric, something seems to ache in Eric’s chest.

“Shin Hyesung-nim!” Minwoo’s voice is like a firework as he bounds over from the bar, wiping his hands on his apron. He bumps Eric out of the way so that he stands in the space between where Hyesung is sitting and where Eric is frozen in his tracks. “What a surprise! I didn’t think we’d ever see you in our corner of the city.”

A smile creeps across Hyesung’s fine-boned face, like a river splitting the earth open.

“I have a late start today so I wanted to pick up Choongjae from school, like what had been suggested before by…another parent.” His tone holds a sharp edge that vanishes like a gleam in the night. Eric winces instinctively, remembering their first meeting at the hospital. “I must admit I haven’t done it at all this year since it’s been so busy.”

“Ah.” Minwoo raises his eyebrows. “And Dongwan didn’t accompany you?”

“I told Dongwan I’d do it today. He said that he has to do some post-production work anyway so was glad for it.”

“Well, Eric usually picks Andy up, so you and he can walk over together later. If I remember correctly, they’re out an hour early today so you won’t have to wait too long.”

Eric glares at the back of his best friend’s head. He is going to kill Minwoo.

“It wouldn’t be a bother to me if Eric-sshi joins.” Hyesung says nonchalantly, as though giving Eric permission to come with him rather than the other way around. He leans back into the seat, his stance now self-assured and annoyingly cocky. There’s a small smirk on his lips that Eric wants to wipe off.

Once an , always an . He regrets having considered a possible friendship with the other man. Shin Hyesung is just impossible to get along with for him, despite having their sons in common.

“Do you even know where the school is?” Eric asks, now out of his stupor. He’s trying very hard to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“Of course I do.” Hyesung raises an eyebrow at him. “I went there to register Choongjae myself.”

“Do you know how to get there from here?”

“I brought my car. It will not be difficult.”

Eric folds his arms over his chest. “If you’re coming later, then we’re walking.”

Hyesung splutters as if the very idea offends him. “It’s too far!”

“No, it isn’t.” Eric shakes his head. “And the boys like walking. Plus, you’ll leave less of a carbon footprint since you’ll end up being stuck in traffic on the way when you could have just spent 10 minutes from here to there. So if you want to come with me, we’re walking. Or you can just sit here and wait and I’ll bring both boys back.”

“Are you actually ordering me around right now?”

“And what if I am?”

“Coffee? Tea? Milkshake?” Minwoo interjects with overly loud cheer, trying to dispel the growing tension. He surreptitiously jabs a sharp elbow into Eric’s stomach, which effectively silences him. “Do you…perhaps want anything to eat? Eric can cook anything—”

“No.” Both Eric and Hyesung say simultaneously, with Eric’s tone being more snappish. Hyesung glares at him, looking almost insulted.

“Just an Americano please, thank you, Minwoo-sshi.” Hyesung says, his tone now on edge. Minwoo bows.

“I’ll be right back with your coffee.” He turns to Eric and grits his teeth. “You. C’mere.”

Eric feels his wrist being grabbed and with a sigh allows himself to be dragged back into the kitchen, where Taehwa is already washing dishes at the industrial-sized sink. Minwoo sends him out with the excuse of starting up the espresso machine for Hyesung’s Americano, and Taehwa obeys, although he does so with an eyeroll.

“Dude, are you that pissed at him?” Minwoo hisses at Eric once they’re alone. “If you don’t watch out, you’re going to get yourself clocked again.”

“I don’t hate him,” Eric frowns. “But he annoys the out of me.”

“Didn’t look it, out on that balcony.”

Eric’s temper flares. “That was just a conversation.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Minwoo now looks more than marginally annoyed. “Now that you guys are actually bosom buddies, can you not provoke him into anything? You know we know so little about this guy as it is, and the little we do know is showing us that he is someone I don’t really want to mess with.”

Eric frowns. “What?”

“You think the media don’t write about him just ‘cause they don’t want to? Fat chance. They’ve probably been paid to shut up. If this guy is involved with the mafia we’re good as dead, and I don’t want to be spending anything on any lawsuits if you poke him wrong. My dad will kill me.”

“Mafia?” Eric lets out a laugh. For some reason the young Al Capone image doesn’t suit Hyesung at all; he’s far too stuck-up for it. “What’s he gonna sue us for? Breathing? If he provokes me, he’s gonna get something back.”

Minwoo places his hands on Eric’s shoulders, making sure to place extra weight on them. “Look. This isn’t America. If we end up in a fight with this guy again I can bet you it’s going to make the national news and I will be disowned then hanged and quartered by my own parents. I will haunt you for ing ever, okay? You won’t be able to get laid in peace.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“Just don’t fight with him, Eric, it isn’t that hard!”

“You pick up the kids then with him.”

“I can’t because that’s the peak hour for the drinks orders, you know that. You’d end up giving the customers just foamed milk if I left you alone to man the café that time.” Minwoo sighs in frustration. “If you can do me one favor, let it be this, okay? Don’t get on Shin Hyesung’s bad side.”

Eric sighs in frustration, but he already knows he has no choice but to agree; he can’t really refuse Minwoo anything, not after what his friend has already done for him.

“Fine, fine.” He huffs. “But if he pisses me off on purpose and I act on it, that won’t be my fault.”

He’s worried for some reason, as though Hyesung’s very presence in the café is a trip wire for some elaborate trap. His concern isn’t unfounded: the café is his safe space, because it’s something he’s built with his own two hands and which he’s loved and labored over the past months, and Hyesung is as unpredictable to him as recovered bomb from some long-forgotten war. For a long moment, he despises that Hyesung is there.

“Yah,” Minwoo calls out to him in a low voice. Eric has just finished wiping down the last of the free tables as more customers come in through the jangling front door. “Here, give Hyesung his coffee. I have to make a hot chocolate cookie shot for another guy and the Americano is going to go stale if it sits out too long.”

Eric frowns. Minwoo has placed the coffee into one of the small reusable tin flasks that they sell at the café, its side engraved with the Wolf and Rabbit logo.

“He should at least pay for this,” Eric grumbles. The flask is set at ten dollars a pop, and they do sell a lot of them, but he doesn’t feel Hyesung deserves any of their favors at the moment.

“It’s not a big deal. Besides, the kids are going to be out soon so you’d better leave now. The coffee will cool too quickly if I put it in a paper cup.”

“So?” Who cares if the guy gets cold coffee?

“Shut up and just go.” Minwoo practically snarls at him. He also s forward a paper bag. “Take these too. Service.”

He’s no longer able to argue with Minwoo right then as a line of customers start forming in front of the cashier and bombard him with orders. Eric releases a pent-up breath before he turns and walks back to where Hyesung is, still in his seat and basking under a patch of exposed sunshine like a contented cat. Eric feels his lips curl up in annoyance.

“Your coffee.” He says, placing the flask and the paper bag soundly on the tabletop. Hyesung squints up at him, one eye tightly shut against the sun’s glare.

“If you don’t want my patronage, I can go elsewhere.” Hyesung says, his expression sour. His lips purse out a bit, like Junjin’s when he’s upset, and Minwoo’s words echo in Eric’s head: Be nice. Be nice. Be nice…

“Your Americano.” Eric repeats, not wanting to sprain himself from overexerting his efforts to be reasonable. He can do being civil, but he doesn’t think he’ll go as far as offering a smile. “And Minwoo threw this in too.” He doesn’t know what’s in the paper bag but does hand it over to Hyesung, holding it close enough to his face so he has no other choice but to accept it. “I have to fetch the kids now, so if you’re coming…”

He doesn’t expect for Hyesung to react as quickly as he does: even before he’s able to finish his sentence, the other man is on his feet, the coffee and paper bag professionally clasped between his fingers as he puts on his sunglasses and touches up the fringes of his hair.

“We’re taking the car.” Hyesung says, sounding as though he isn’t taking no for an answer. From where they are, Eric can see a white sports car parked by the sidewalk, and he nearly rolls his eyes. Of course Hyesung would have a Porsche.

“No, we’re not.” Eric is also adamant in this; taking a car up the hill to the school is a waste. Besides, the Porsche would have a hard time maneuvering through the narrow streets. “If you’re going to argue about it, you can stay here.”

He removes his work apron and places it on the bar counter for it to be put away by Minwoo, currently engrossed in the making of at least five different drinks. Without waiting for Hyesung to reply, Eric starts to make his way out, grabbing his coat from the hook by the door. He’s more than surprised when the door opens again behind him, the jangling of the chimes succeeded by quick but heavy feet.

“I literally just said you don’t have to come,” he tells Hyesung, frowning. He doesn’t bother turning around. “I’ll bring Jun—Choongjae back if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Please. I don’t need your permission to pick up my own son.” Eric hears Hyesung scoff, before it’s followed by a petulant whine. “Jesus Christ, it’s cold.”

Eric doesn’t disagree. The wind has gained more teeth and nips at any exposed skin. He shudders and pulls up his coat collar, unconsciously slowing down enough to allow Hyesung to walk in stride with him.

“If we had taken the car, we’d at least be warm.” Hyesung is grumbling, now in step with Eric’s. He’s unscrewed the top off the flask and is taking careful sips from it. Steam curls around his face as his hair is whipped back by the wind that barrels into them, revealing a broad expanse of forehead usually hidden under professionally-cut bangs. Eric has to be careful not to look too long. “JESUS!” Hyesung yelps, looking as though he’s been assaulted. He’s wincing against the wind, looking almost teary-eyed.

“It’s not that cold.” Eric retorts, although he already has his hands buried deep in his coat pockets. Of all days that he could have forgotten his gloves, it had to be this one, but he tries not to let it show.

“The coffee isn’t even hot anymore!” Hyesung complains. “It’s lukewarm. And this to-go cup is turning into ice!”

“That’s not a to-go cup, so you’d better not throw that out.” Eric warns, whipping his head around. Hyesung glares at him over the top of the flask, his hands clasped tightly around its middle to keep warm.

“Whatever. It’s not keeping my coffee hot enough.”

“Drink it faster then.” Eric says irritably. He wishes now that he had taken Hyesung up on the offer of bringing the car, but he isn’t up to giving him that kind of satisfaction. “Anyway, it’s not that far. You’ll live.”

“You keep saying that but how steep is this hill, oh my God. Choongjae walks this?? Don’t people prefer driving in America? Isn’t that where you’re from?”

“It’s not that bad.” Eric says, even though he knows it’s a blatant lie. The walk to the boys’ school is an endless slope, which is a challenge sometimes even for him. The cold is just making it more difficult. “Besides,” he’s quick to deflect blame from himself, “I did give you the choice of staying behind.”

“I should have never listened to you.”

“Nobody told you to.”

“My face is going to be ripped off at this rate…I’m probably going to get a nosebleed. The air is so dry, oh my God…”

“Do you ever stop talking?” Eric snaps, his breath forming a cloud in the small space between him and Hyesung. “You can go back to the café if you can’t handle it.”

“Who says I can’t? If I have to get a lung transplant by the end of this thing, I’m claiming all expenses from you and cleaning out your insurance.”

“Don’t waste your breath.”

At this, Hyesung manages to expel a laugh, so sudden and unexpected that it seems to color the air around them. “ off,” he says, the words rolling off his tongue as easily as water slides off stones. There’s a flash of a smile that turns Eric warm and he ducks his head.

“You kiss your son with that mouth?” Eric asks. His ears have turned red, although he isn’t sure whether it’s from the cold, or from the sheer shock of hearing something so uncouth coming out of someone seemingly so refined. Granted, it isn’t the first time, but now there is nothing else distracting them apart from his skittish heartbeat.

“I have many vices. You’re no Mother Teresa either, Eric Mun.”

“Well I’m not the celebrity DJ with a wholesome image.”

“Well we all can’t own and operate fancy overpriced cafés, can we?”

“Spit out that coffee then if you hate it so much.”

“No, you.”

Another smile, this time hidden behind the flask as Hyesung takes another sip, and Eric feels heat like lava creeping up his face despite it being nearly frozen.

--

(The first recipe he made with her wasn’t the easiest: macarons, stemming from her latest obsession after encountering it during their honeymoon in Paris, and she consistently begged for him to teach her, so they didn’t keep driving down to Chantal Guillon in San Francisco whenever the craving hit. Rose. Earl Grey and pepper. Lemon vanilla. Passion fruit. Yumi wanted to try them all.)

“What’s inside this?” Hyesung has pocketed his empty coffee flask and now holds up the bag Eric had given him. He peeks inside. “Oh?”

(Macarons need templates. You will need a template. No cheating. Buy it, or use parchment paper and draw on that. Each piece of parchment paper that would fit a baking tray will fit 30. If you draw it, flip the paper over so it’s ink side down. Each circle should be big enough to fit inside your palm.)

“Service, from Minwoo.” Eric says, largely uninterested in whatever it is Minwoo had placed in the bag to seemingly impress Hyesung. The school is still several minutes away, but they’ve gotten through the steepest bit without much complaint. Hyesung seems to have already gotten the hang of it.

(Combine powdered sugar, almond flour, salt and process on low speed until extra fine. Sift the mixture through a fine mesh sieve into a large bowl. In a separate bowl, beat egg whites and salt until foamy. Mix in cream of tartar, lavender extract, and purple food coloring. You can also opt to use lavender buds but add this to the almond flour mixture first and pulse and sift it with the rest of the dry ingredients. Add sugar slowly to the meringue and mix until it forms stiff peaks. Fold the dry mix and meringue together until it forms a honey-like consistency.)

“What is this?” Hyesung asks incredulously. In his hand he’s holding a lavender macaron, the meringue shell pinched delicately between his fingers. “Is it edible?”

(Place half the mixture in a pastry bag and start filling out the templates on the baking sheet. Start from the center of the template and squeeze until it’s filled. Repeat for all the circles on the first baking tray, and again with the second baking tray, which will form the second half of your macarons. Drop the trays onto the counter to release any air bubbles and let it sit out for 30-40 minutes to dry. Do not skip these steps! These are essential. There are no shortcuts to baking macarons.)

The macaron in question is a beautiful pale purple, speckled under the light, the golden mascarpone filling bulging out of its sides. They’re from a special batch Eric had made last night as he was, ironically, listening to Hyesung’s show. He had made it on a whim, from muscle memory, and had brought the fruits of it to the café for Minwoo to privately enjoy, since Eric couldn’t even bear to look at them for long. Now one is in Hyesung’s hand, and he’s looking at it as though someone has just made him hold an unwashed sock.

(Preheat the oven to 350 and bake the first tray for 6 minutes. Rotate the tray to ensure even baking and bake for another 6 minutes. Repeat for the second tray. When they’re done, leave them out to cool completely, or put them in the refrigerator for a couple of hours. It’ll be easier to remove them then.)

Eric pauses before answering. “It’s a honey and lavender macaron,” he says.

“Lavender?” Hyesung’s expression worsens. “Like the flower?”

Eric wants to take the macaron from him. “Yes.”

(While the cookies cool, make the filling. Stir mascarpone and honey together until it forms a smooth golden paste. Let it set in the refrigerator.)

“Lavender…” Hyesung sniffs at it and wrinkles his nose before dropping it back into the bag. Eric watches him carefully. He’s folded his arms in an attempt to rein in his tongue and temper. He normally isn’t this touchy about the food he makes but Hyesung…Hyesung has so far always managed to push his buttons, even the ones he didn’t think existed.

“Haven’t you had a macaron before?” He can’t help but ask, seeing how extreme Hyesung’s feelings towards it are.

(Arrange the macarons by spreading the filling on the flat side of one cookie and twisting it closed with another. Let it chill in the fridge for a few hours. Serve to your very happy spouse.)

“Of course I have, but they’re disgusting. I prefer Korean food. Also lavender? That’s a bit pretentious, isn’t it? I swear, you Americans—Hey!” Hyesung yelps as Eric snatches the paper bag.

“No. I’m giving it to the boys.”

“I wanted to taste it at least!”

“You wouldn’t like it.”

“You’re an .”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Remind me again why I’m doing this? This has got to be the most miserable ing walk of my life—”

“APPA!” a child suddenly shouts, his voice loud and clear as a bell in the frosty air, and causing them both to startle. Eric turns in time to see an orange blur speed towards them, like a comet, before slamming to a stop against Hyesung, who’s unable to brace against the impact on time and is nearly sent sprawling. Eric instinctively grabs his arm to steady him, then abruptly releases his grip as soon as Hyesung has kept his balance enough to stand.

“Daddy!” Andy says, skipping calmly to where Eric is standing, but no less enthusiastic. He scrabbles at Eric’s front until his father concedes and lifts him up, kissing him as a form of greeting. “Hello, hello!”

“Appa!” Junjin shouts happily, still attached to Hyesung’s waist. He looks up at his father in euphoric disbelief. “You came! You came!”

“Yes, I did!” Hyesung says, looking a thousand times more pleasant than he had been just minutes prior. He kneels so he and Junjin can see at eye level.  “Yahhh…how is it possible that you’ve gotten bigger? I just saw you this morning! You’re not my Choongjae!”

Junin turns away, shy. “I’m not bigger, Appa. I’m still Choongjae.”

“Are you sure? Why do you look so grown-up? Where is my baby?” Hyesung pouts which, admittedly, looks utterly ridiculous and Eric has to look away so he doesn’t end up laughing out loud. It amazes him how much the man changes when in front of his child.

“Nooooo it’s me!” Junjin gives an elated squeal. “Don’t be sad. I’m still your baby.” He presses small palms against Hyesung’s cheeks to flatten them. “Smile, Appa!”

Hyesung laughs, that sudden exhaled sound of delight that makes Eric, against all his best intentions, look, hoping to get a glimpse of a smile. In this case, Hyesung is already beaming, sharing twin eye-smiles with his son, and Eric feels it as a punch in the throat.

“Did you like my kimbap today? I put dried honey squid in it for a change.”

“Uh…” Junjin glances at Eric but quickly turns back to his father. “I shared lunch with Andy, Appa. So I couldn’t finish the kimbap.” He brightens, his eyes vanishing into curves. “I’ll do it later. I’ll share it with you.”

“Okay. Before I go to work, then.” Hyesung smiles as he zips up Junjin’s coat. He peers up at Andy, deftly avoiding Eric’s gaze. “Hello, young Mr. Mun.”

“Hello, Mr. Jinnie’s Dad,” Andy says with a small wave as he tucks his head against Eric’s chest. It’s a gesture he makes when he’s shy. “Are you coming home with us today?”

“Home?” Hyesung looks slightly confused, repeating the English word, and Eric realizes Andy may have been referring to going back to the café.

“Uhh…yeah, Jinnie’s dad is going to come back with us to the café,” Eric says, his voice slightly louder than intended. Hyesung looks at him, perturbed. He doesn’t know if Hyesung is even understanding what he’s saying since it’s now completely in English. “He left his car there, Andy.”

Andy nods. “Okay,” he says and Eric hopes neither of the boys will mention their daily café visits. “Is Uncle Dongwan gonna come too?”

“No, not today, probably.”

“Okay…” He turns to Hyesung, raising his hand. “Mr. Jinnie’s Daddy, I have a question.”

This, at least, Hyesung understands, and he nods. “What is it?”

“Why do you call my friend ‘Choongjae’? Isn’t his name ‘Junjin’?”

The question is in English but Hyesung seems to have understood every single word. Eric watches as Hyesung slowly opens his mouth to speak; he himself is curious at what the response would be and would have also asked it sooner or later, but it’s Junjin’s voice that pipes up.

“It’s my real name, Andy.” Junjin says in English. “It’s what my Daddy named me. ‘Junjin’ is…my other name.”

“Like a fake name?” Andy asks, obviously not grasping the concept. “Like a spy?”

“Like a nickname.” Eric supplies, seeing the slight discomfort on Junjin’s face, although he doesn’t exactly know why that would be. “Andy…you have different names too. What’s your full name?”

“Andrew Sunho Mun!”

“And what do I call you?”

“Andy.” Andy says thoughtfully, making a thinking gesture. “‘Andrew’ when you’re getting mad…and ‘Sunho’ when you’re really really mad, like a monster.”

“What??? No I don’t!” Eric has turned slightly red, possibly from guilt. “Anyway, Junjin is a nickname like Andy is. He has a real name.”

“Yeah, but you can still call me Junjin.” Junjin says, in very fast English. He’s hopping from foot to foot as he speaks, and refuses to look anyone in the eye. “I’m okay with it. My Daddy just doesn’t use it.”

Throughout the whole conversation, Hyesung has been silent, but it may be due to the fact that all three of them have resorted to speaking in a language he isn’t fluent at. Not wanting to be rude, Eric opens his mouth to explain in Korean what’s just conspired, but the words die before they’re able to emerge.

“Daddy, what’s this?” Andy is pawing through the paper bag that had been in the crook of his arm, interrupting any conversation they could have had going. It falls, but Junjin catches it and after looking inside, lifts a macaron out much like his father had done just minutes before.

“Ooooh!” Andy crows. “Macarons!”

“What?” Junjin wrinkles his nose. “Americans?”

“Macarons.” Andy says, rolling his eyes. He wriggles so Eric would release him and once he’s down on the ground, gets a macaron of his own from the bag. “Try it, Jinnie!”

Junjin looks doubtful at first but follows Andy in nibbling a portion off his own cookie. When he does, his eyes widen in delighted surprise.

“Do you like it?” Hyesung asks, looking curious now. He peers at his son. “Is it good?”

“Yeah! Try it, Appa!” Junjin offers his macaron to his father. “I like it. I like macaronis now.”

“Macarons.” Andy corrects automatically. “And they were my Mama’s super favorites, right, Daddy? Right?”

“Right.” Eric gives his son a smile, although he knows it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I have to admit, it does taste good, Eric Mun.” Hyesung says, now holding half of Junjin’s macaron in his hand. He chews thoughtfully. “My compliments to the chef.”

“Do you have more, Uncle Eric?” Junjin is asking. Purple crumbs fleck his cheeks. “Do you have more mac-roons at the café?”

Eric nods. “Unless Uncle Minwoo ate them all.”

“Nooo!” Junjin says dramatically, stamping his feet. “Appa, before we go home, let’s have some raccoons and milk, okay? Okay?”

Hyesung hesitates. “I need to be at the studio soon, Choongjae…”

“Please, Appa, please, pleaaase! Just this once!”

Hyesung gives in faster than Eric expected, or would have, if he had been in the same situation. ing whipped, Eric muses, utterly entertained at how Hyesung’s greatest and most obvious weakness is his rambunctious yet adorable seven-year-old.

“Okay! Okay, little one.”

“Yes!”

“But only long enough for you to get some milk and marcos.”

“Macarons.” Eric and Andy correct simultaneously, Andy’s tone sounding far more annoyed than Eric’s.

“Whatever.” Junjin and Hyesung say in different languages, before bursting out laughing, the afternoon sun coloring them all golden: street, children, parents, laughter. Streaks of light on the pavement and in Eric’s chest.

“Appa,” Junjin says as they walk back to the café, his hand tucked into Hyesung’s. His other hand is holding on to Andy’s, whose left hand is clutching Eric’s right, forming an unbroken chain of fathers and sons – simultaneously strangers and friends, both shattered and whole – on the cracked Seoul sidewalk. “Can we do this again tomorrow?”

“Mm. Do what?”

“Pick me up. With Uncle Eric and Andy.”

“Mm. We’ll see.”

Such a short statement holding great potential. Eric makes a mental note to have Minwoo pick the boys up if Hyesung comes around again; his blood pressure can only take so much stress.

“Maybe we can have dinner? Uncle Eric cooks good.”

“We’ll see, Choongjae.” Hyesung changes tack, obviously uncomfortable at the topic. “Do you have any homework?”

“Um…if we did, can we have dinner with them?”

“Enough of that now.” Hyesung sighs, sounding slightly exasperated. “I’m sure Andy’s father is very busy. And Mrs. Kim will have something at home for you.”

“Awww…”

Eric wants to speak up, to say that actually he doesn’t mind cooking for Choongjae and if Hyesung wouldn’t be such a stuck-up prig, he could partake in it as well, but he bites his tongue. It’s none of his business what Shin Hyesung would like to eat; it’s none of his business what he wants to feed his son back at their multimillion-dollar house.

“I can’t even cook Korean food,” somebody says, and it takes a second before Eric realizes it’s him who’s said it, outing himself as listening to the active conversation. Hyesung’s eyes narrow at him.

“Appa only eats Korean food,” Junjin says, nodding his head. “He likes it better.”

“Daddy only cooks American.” Andy says as-a-matter-of-factly. “But you like it, Jinnie, right?”

“I like everything. My Mama used to take me to—oh.” He stops himself before he says anything further, but Eric also doesn’t miss the way Hyesung’s expression has changed rapidly at the child’s statement.

“Stop this now.” Hyesung’s voice has an edge to it: a warning, perhaps. “When we get back to the café, we’ll have to hurry home. We’ve bothered Mr. Mun long enough. We can get snacks at home.”

“But Appa—!”

“Enough.” Hyesung says, and for once Eric has to agree with him. He doesn’t wish to cultivate any burgeoning friendship or anything with Hyesung. The most he wants the man to be is an active parent to his growing boy, but that’s about it. Everything else he can live without.

…However, he can’t stand seeing Junjin so visibly upset, either from triggering something in his father, or something else. Once again, Minwoo’s voice echoes in his ear: Be nice. Be nice. Be nice…

“You both can have dinner with us next time,” Eric tells Junjin, who already looks troubled by Hyesung’s sudden mood swing. He watches them closely to see if he can spot any warning signs; it's not in his place either to question any of Hyesung's parenting decisions unless he has to, but the child doesn’t seem afraid of his father, just apologetic that he may have unearthed something unpleasant. Hyesung is now walking stone-faced, eyes hard as he stares at the concrete. Yeah, there’s definitely some history there…

“Don’t worry. I’ll make you something so special it’ll knock your socks off. Maybe it’ll be Korean, and I’ll make macarons again then. Lots of them. How’s that sound?”

“My Mama’s favorite is macarons.” Andy says. He’s been too busy jumping over cracks to realize they’re no longer focused on macarons, but it’s a welcome distraction. “Mama asked Daddy all the time. Daddy will make them again, Jinnie, don’t worry.”

Junjin nods at Eric, biting his lip, but also looks at his father for approval. Hyesung’s expression is still grim but he too manages a nod, albeit it’s a bit distracted.

“Thank you for the kind offer, Eric-sshi.” Hyesung says, but leaves it at that. No snappish remarks, and no veiled insults. Eric almost misses the snark he’s gotten accustomed to. Almost.

“Great.” Eric says, although it’s anything but, but at this point he’d do anything to keep the smile on Junjin’s face. He’s more curious now about Hyesung’s mysterious former spouse than how he should be, than how he was that morning until Minwoo set everything on fire, but he reels himself in, forces the curiosity back into the small black box of distance and professionalism.

He lets out a largely inaudible sigh.

“Great.”

--

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Author's Notes
HOOOOMG I'm so sorry it's been extremely busy on my end. Post-Christmas errands and loose ends...Thank you very much, however, for reading and commenting! I read them all but don't have a lot of time to reply. This chapter had been finished for a while but I had to proofread and check to see if anything made sense. It's a bit hodge-podge with a lot of things going on, and I apologize for that. Anyway, let me know what you think! Thank you so much again!! I read too that Eric has a new drama where he's a chef AND a dad and I was like "!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" OMG I CAN'T WAIT