III

Minho must be trying to play the violin because it sounds like a strangled cat. For a split second Jinwoo worries that Mei is actually bullying one of their pets, but the girl is right next to him, the cats safe, scattered around, her face crumbled down, hands on her ears, protectively, a terrified expression and scared shine on her eyes: the air is filled by the loud streams from Minho, a chorus of disassembled yellings.

"What is Minho dad doing?" she asks, tears brightening her eyes with pain, staining her rosy cheeks.

"Probably trying to kill us," it's his reply, before running to murder Minho, to put an end to this suffering. This is torture. He hasn't signed up for this and it’s just a miracle that they moved to the suburbs, to a house with a garden so the neighbours can’t hear it, otherwise the police would be already on the door, knocking it down.

Indeed Minho is playing the violin.

Minho has the guts to be all smug while battering the poor thing. He is on the middle of the room, the instrument pressed between his shoulder and his chin, the arch moving slowly on the strings. The laptop is open and the screen shows that he is following another tutorial. “Henry Lau easy way to play the violin”, Jinwoo reads on the tag searcher. It would be great if only Minho would follow the instructions – perhaps, then, he would be able to produce a sweeter sound, even if not a recognisable song. But Minho messes it up and tries his own way to play.

"Are you impressed, love?" he asks, smiling at him, beaming. He wants to smash the wooden instrument against his head for all the damage he has done to their ears.

"I'm impressed that we aren't suffering from a massive ear bleed.”

Jinwoo regrets asking Minho to come home earlier from work if that means that he will bother them with his learning seasons that aren't going well at all - it's been a month and he is still unable to tune it, to get the right note.

Yes, it’s good that Minho can collect Mei now with him, that they can go to the park together and spend quality time as a family, but when Minho unboxes the violin from its case, Jinwoo instantly forgets all that it’s good, bloody murdered by the blaring, shrilling sounds. It is worst than psychedelic music but equally unpleasant and head-aching – a torment.

At the beginning Jinwoo tolerated it with a gentle heart, putting earphones on Mei whenever Minho played. He wanted to be supportive and cheered him up until he couldn’t bring himself to praise his non-improvements. Since then, it has been hell but Minho ignores their pledges to go take classes with a professional – an excuse to get rid of him playing it at home, - and has kept practising in the office, loud and strident, obnoxiously, viciously, as if enjoying the view of it.

Minho has delegated more at work, and his business is blooming so well, he doesn't need to do much and can be with them more. But instead of the initial plan – that was: playing with Mei more,- he has picked up a new hobby and, since then, he has been immersed - with zero succeed but Jinwoo's headaches and Mei's complains.

"I'm sure there are lots of things you like about dad," Jinwoo says cheerfully, holding Mei in a tight hug while ruffling her hair with the tip of his perfect nose. He tries to keep her distracted from the previous painful experience. When he lets her go, she looks concentrated, pondering her options and her answers. "Isn't he handsome?" Jinwoo tries to help, offering her a place to start.

"You are much more handsome than him!" she voices with a serious glance over him, nodding for emphasis. Minho giggles, petting her head.

"On that, I have to agree", he smiles, a hand circling Jinwoo's hips, pulling him into half an embrace.

"Minho dad draws well and does funny voices while reading," Mei notes, later on, her hands covered in soap. She is on the bathtub with Jinwoo and Minho, and Minho feels full and happy, staring at the pair lovingly, feeling content with Mei’s praises that, for once are on him.

"Does that means that you like me more than Jinwoo?" Asks Minho with so many hopes lingering on his voice, sparkling his eyes with joy. Mei, though, rushes to hold Jinwoo, nestling quickly on his chest, Jinwoo's arms around her, protective.

"Never!" she proclaims, always loyal to Jinwoo who smiles softly at her, gently massaging her hair, washing it delicately to avoid knots for forming, tangles that will hurt her while brushing her bobbed.

He rinses it and adds a drop of conditioner all while tickling her little, peachy tummy. She splashes water everywhere, shaking in delight, filling the bathroom with her iridescent giggles.

Mei is eating her dinner – handmade veggie lasagna, Jinwoo’s improved receipt – when her face frowns, concentrated.

“Dad has many more things I like about him,” she announces. She raises one tinny, chubby finger, “he cooks excellent! He plays the piano for Mei. Rubs my belly before sleep. Has pretty hands that look good holding mine. He is the most handsome. He helps with homework and draws cute chest-glassed mermaids!” She enumerates, showing both their hands, proudly. Jinwoo is watching over Minho, who is defeated, looking awfully sad to be beaten by Jinwoo’s abstract art. “And cats adore dad just as much as Mei adores him!” she adds, joyfully.

“That is a long list of things you like about me,” Jinwoo says, cleaning the dishes, a feathery smile still plastered on his face. Minho stares at it with just the same kind of smile, absorbed contemplating the beauty that Jinwoo irradiates, the wonder that he is and that even a five years old girlie knows to appreciate. Jinwoo is so perfect, so well mannered, such a gentleman, caring and loving and diligent; Minho will never be able to recite all the traits that make his heart swoon for him, make him fall even deeper in love with him – every day a little bit more because every day Jinwoo glows and gleam and it’s impossible to not adore every single bit of him, all the marvel that he is and that Minho so much adores.

“And it’s not all!” she exclaims, jumping from her seat to hug Jinwoo’s legs, “Dad is so good I have millions of reasons to like him a lot!” she proclaims, triumphally. Minho agrees with her, nodding enthusiastically, much to Jinwoo’s blushing cheeks.

“Ok, ok, this is enough, the cheeky one,” he laughs, hoisting her from the floor, swirling Mei on his arms, flying her like a little plane all around the house. Mei joggles her arms and Jinwoo makes landing sounds while docking her on her bed.

“I can’t believe that you prefer Jinwoo’s ugly draws over mines,” Minho complains, faking sadness, holding in his laughter. Mei pouts, disagreeing.

“They are cute! He draws as Mei does,” she claps her hands and Minho holds them for a moment, before kissing them with love. Mei chuckles and kicks, excitedly, the bed covers. “Dad is too good to be yours! He is mine!” she declares, convinced of her claims. “Because I like him more than you do!” Minho stares blankly, confused, at his daughter, who keeps repeating that she deserves Jinwoo better than he does. “I don’t play the violin,” she blurts and Minho tries to grasp the meaning of it.

Jinwoo, by the door, cackling. It’s unbelievable that the people who he loves the most are fighting over him – it’s ridiculously cute.

“But I take care of him, I buy him what he wants and needs,” Minho retorts, firmly. He is not going to lose this stupid argument, he is going to prove to Mei that he is the one who has to earn Jinwoo’s trust. He keeps adding more reasons for him to win and Mei does the exact same, to Jinwoo’s amusement.

They have been at it for over half an hour and it’s getting late for Mei, but they are too engrossed to even notice. So it’s up to Jinwoo to put an end to this pointless fight.

“I love you both equally and you are both deserving my love the same way, so stop this quarrel and go immediately to sleep,” he commands with a sweetness that hides his upset.

Mei makes a face to Minho but obligates, raising her hands for Jinwoo to hold her, to kiss her goodnight twice.

“Now, now,” he says, soothingly, rubbing her tummy, scratching gently, “sleep well my love, my little butterfly,” he kisses her forehead one more time and watches how her eyes become drowsy, how her breathing gets slowly until she finally falls asleep on his arms. He cradles her a little longer, enjoying the view of his daughter on his lap, listening to her heart-beats.

Minho sneaks to Mei’s room and sits on the floor, his head resting on the mattress, contemplating Mei sleeping, helping Jinwoo to put her back in the bed, tugging her under the blankets.

Mei’s bedroom is decorated with some of Jinwoo’s mermaids and Minho pouts at them, defeated.

“She is just a kid, she can’t appreciate fine art,” Jinwoo reassures him, on his way out. His hand reaches for Minho’s and he intertwines their fingers, caressing the back of his hand, drawing hearts with his thumb.

Minho nods.

“But she definitely appreciates you,” he points out, smiling, “a girl with taste, I admit it.” Jinwoo punches him.

“Don’t be silly!” But his face is pink and Minho can feel the warmth coming from his embarrassment. He kisses his lips, tasting the shame from them – it tastes just sweet.

“I’m not. I can’t be mad because, dang it, I like you too, so much, so very much”.

“I like you, too, idiot. Even if you play that murderous thing,” Jinwoo jokes, too mortified with all the cheesiness to keep up with it. “Maybe if you just stop... Mei would like you better,” he suggests, expectantly. It doesn’t go as he planned, but Minho concedes.

“I’ll go somewhere else to learn how to play the violin. But only if you promise me that you love me more than anything else.”

“I can promise you that I love you more than anything, just as much as I love Mei,” he says, being realistic.

“Fair enough,” Minho smiles, kissing him again. “Fair enough, I can live sharing your heart with my daughter.”