06.

It was fun playing with Junhong. With a cheeky smile and squeal, he’d somehow manage to light up the dull of my usual afternoons spent sprawled across the sofa with a cup of tea going through the never ending channels.

Come to it, I’d only recently realized how pointless it was having several hundred channels when most of them played reruns (and or the news). These days, the only channel that ever played was the children’s shows - the ones with talking cars and animals.

But leaving child in front of the tv entertained only so many hours.

The rest of the day, while Yongguk was at work, Junhong and I’d play games or head outside for an adventure. But even that, could only last so long. I was running out of entertainment in my system. There was only so much I could show and bring to a five year old (not even).

“We should let Junhong go back school.”

Yongguk had the strangest of looks on his face as he paused from wiping Junhong’s face during breakfast, when I decided to suggest this. It was a weird mix between worry and apologetic.

“No,” I quickly added, twirling the chopstick in my hand to a more comfortable position and shaking my head and hand alike. “It’s not that he’s trouble, he’s an angel, I swear,” most of the time anyways, “but it’s just … don’t you think he deserves friends his age?”

To that, Yongguk, the obvious father he was and is, agreed. But getting into school wasn’t easy business. There had been long talks on the news how getting children into pre-school was much like that of winning a lottery (a funny comparison, if you ask me, seeing as you lose money sending your kid to school, while you did the opposite for its comparison).

But lucky for Junhong, I was Kim Himchan.

“Don’t you worry a single wrinkle.”

I had my connections.

Ahn Jaehyo was a friend I’d made my first semester of college. We’d rampaged the campus together, lost an utterly hopeless. After running into each other a several hundred times trying to get to class (which, had been a funky experience, seeing as his department was situated on the other side of campus), we’d eventually become friends, running each other up walls - but hey, wasn’t that what friends were for anyways?

And, much different to what he looked like, he was useful in situations like these.

His aunt, the batty cat lady who had an obsession with pinching cheeks (I was a victim - it wasn’t a very pleasant experience), was the principal to the neighborhood private school. It was a fancy building, meant only for the top pier students; usually, getting into the said school would be harder - and considerably more expensive - than winning a lottery.

But Ahn Jaehyo owed me a favor for making me a messenger between him and his current boyfriend.

(Back then, they’d been stupid love struck idiots, driving me crazy with their stupid love letters back and forth. Honestly, it took them a good year to actually meet up in person - and even then, it took them a good hour before any real conversation took place. It was beyond just the usual definition of timid or shy. Sometimes, I think that they need counseling from Kyuhyun more than me. My coffee obsession was nothing compared to them. Though, Kyuhyun would disagree.)

A single conversation and threat (“Don’t think I won’t tell the whole campus about that gay birthmark on your left cheek.”), and Junhong was in.

Normally, getting a spot into school at this time of the year - exactly one month before the new semester started - would have been impossible. Yongguk should be thankful he has such an amazing friend like me.

We finished the call with a group hug and celebration, breaking out the strawberry milk and sparkling water (since drinking in front of little kid was obviously oh-so-wrong) to clink glasses. And while Junhong hadn’t a single clue what we were cheering about, we giggled and followed along, having to hold his (the plastic Pororo themed sippie cup) drink with both hands.

Unfortunately, our celebration was cut short by a phone call.

Yongguk’s manager was such a joy kill.

(It was his problem that there lacked a slot in the mornings. It wasn’t Yongguk, after all, to have fired that high schooler - so why did Yongguk have to fill in for the morning shift?)

“Wave good bye to daddy Junhong.”

With a heavy sigh, a disguised frown, Junhong and I bid Yongguk farewell, having him promise to be careful and eat on time (Junhong wanting a baggy of gummy bears upon daddy’s return - though he’d probably forget by nightfall anyways).

We’d only just gotten comfortable in the couches, laying awkwardly in front of the tv when my phone decided to ring from halfway across the room. The first call, I ignored. The second, I tried to ignore. And the third, Junhong ended up running to grab, his mind set on giving a mouthful for disrupting his daily tv program and making him miss half the dialogue.

For a second, I pitied the idiot who’d decided to call me up on a Saturday.

“Ajusshi!” Junhong complained, staring, his brows scrunched up in annoyance, at my phone, as if he could see through the device at the caller. “I don’t know what Mickey needs because of you!”

His words obviously not getting through to the other caller, Junhong began screeching after that, flailing the phone around and stomping his feet around. And, really, as inappropriate as it was, I couldn’t help but laugh, rolling off the couch to grab my stomach. If not for the fact that the caller may have been someone important, I would have let him continue his banshee call.

“Hello?” I crackled into the phone, snagging it out of Junhong’s hands before he accidentally threw it against the wall (or the floor). Offering Junhong an apologetic smile, I picked him up with one arm, letting him snuggle his face - eyes teary with frustration - into my shoulder.

“Himchan? Oh lord, is that you?”

Kwanghee.

Should have just let Junhong go at it with the phone.

“Yeah, what is it?” Rocking Junhong against my shoulder, I hummed into the phone, a little tempted to hang up on him. Kwanghee never had a too important reason in calling; usually, it was because he needed something.

“Who the hell was that? I thought hell’s gate opened or something! Was that a kid? Lord don’t tell me you went and got someone pregnant!”

I rolled my eyes.

First Kyuhyun, and now Kwanghee. Did I really look like I’d go and knock someone up like that?

I mean, honestly.

“Shut up, I’m babysitting for someone. Now tell me why you called before I hang up on you.”

I gave him a count to five. “The newest shipment is in!” It took him up to the last of those five seconds to get the main point across, sputtering nonsense about the importance of youth and the need to enjoy your manhood properly (whatever the hell that meant anyways) before getting a kid.

(Conclusion, Hwang Kwanghee wasn’t quite right in the head.)

Having a queer obsession with fashion, Kwanghee, while Hyungjun and I’d pursued music, had been the one in our high school trio to first get a job. It had started out as a simple fitting model, trying on new clothes and posing awkwardly in front of the camera while trying not to look too extreme. That lead up to helping out and learning a little something or another about the marketing business and the eventual opening of his own online store. As great as that was, it also meant that he could abuse his friendship with both Hyungjun and I to pay us little for being his living barbie dolls; or rather, in this case, his Ken dolls.

(On the good side, he let us have free clothes every so once in a while, whenever he’s in a good mood - which, lucky for us, was more often than not.)

“But those aren’t supposed to be in until next month.” The second the words had left the speaker, I was already at the calendar, thumbing through the date with a frown. Spring shipments weren’t supposed to be in this early; early arrival meant an early photoshoot in the snow - no fun at all.

A grunt, “Yeah, I don’t know what happened either. Imagine my surprise when a whole bunch of boxes just randomly arrived.” And then a sigh, “Anyways, we’re having a shoot today. Sunhwa’s coming over to help with the makeup and the arrangements since Yewon’s in Japan right now.”

Then he hung up, before I could spit out a no (along with a few strings of curses directed at his soul and everything that means anything to him).

“You are so dead when I next see you.”

“What’s wrong?” Sniffling back his annoyance with Kwanghee earlier, Junhong reached up to pat me gently on the head, splaying my bangs over eyes. “Did meany ajusshi make hyung mad? Should Junhong go hit meany man?”

Well, at least Junhong was still on my side.

“Do you wanna go out today Junhong?”

I was lucky Junhong was in a good mood today (or rather, Kwanghee was, lest Junhong unleash hell at his stupid photoshoot - and I wouldn’t have done a single thing to stop him from bringing havoc).

But the thing about taking Junhong out, was that he had to be watched full time; there had to constantly be a ready set of eyes on him. And even then, the little demon - sometimes angel - would play Houdini on us.

Seeing just how much Junhong already hated Kwanghee, this meant that I’d have to find a babysitter for him worth less than my underpaid wage from my cheap so-called-friend. I wasn’t about to work while being paid in negatives.

“Hey, Jiho!” Sitting on the floor of the living room, combing down the bird’s nest of Junhong’s hair, I shoved my cell phone between my ear and shoulder, breathing out a sigh of relief as my youngest cousin picked up the line.

Woo Jiho, my mom’s younger sister’s kid. Clever and completely rebellious, my aunt (along with everyone else) had been utterly shocked to find that he adored me. Sometime in the past, I swear he’d once cried when I told him that I couldn’t marry him - something awkward but hilarious for my mom and aunt to bring up during family meetings (it never failed to make both me and Jiho go red in the face when brought up during family gatherings).

The queer attraction, while subdued, didn’t completely fade. Jiho and I kept in contact, every so once in a while, meeting to talk about nothing all too interesting in particular. Talking to him, was like chatting with a younger and by far less annoying Kyuhyun.

His smile could almost be heard from my end of the line as he excited blurted greetings (blasting my ear and making me swap shoulders with a sigh). “Hey hyung! It’s been a while! How’s winter semester going for you? I heard from mom that you ended up taking it for credits and scholarship conditions!”

All his sentences, if written out, always ended in an exclamation point; to him, everything was exciting.

(I both envied and pitied him for his constantly over excited nature.)

“Yeah, uh, hey, do you want to meet up today by any chance?” Biting at my lip, a bad habit I’d gotten over the past month or so, I pushed down Junhong’s beanie over his head, earning a pitched giggle. “I have a shoot today. You used to like following on my shoots, right?” Or maybe that had been my other cousin.

“Oh? Really? Yeah sure! I’d love to go!”

Whether he really liked following along or not remained a mystery yet. Not that it all too particularly mattered, I’d earned myself a free babysitter - even if Jiho himself didn’t really know the reason behind my calling him yet.

(Yet; he’d find out soon enough.)

“Great!” I smiled, a tinge of guilt eating at me, “I’ll buy you a burger and ice cream cone when I’m finished, alright?” It wasn’t completely free. I was still going to pay him in food and sweets. “I’ll see you soon!” It didn’t completely sate the guilt bubbling in my gut, but it did calm it to a small extent. I wasn’t completely ripping him off (I would never).

Hanging up the line, I handed Junhong his Pororo doll and took him by the hand, out to murder a certain internet mall ceo.

Unfortunately for me (today was full of disappointments), I’d been a step late to a murder club, finding on set a very displeased Hyungjun drop kicking Kwanhee (Sunhwa laughing in the backdrops, clutching her sides desperately). And just because I’m nice, I didn’t join in. Though, I wasn’t nearly nice enough to bother try and stop Hyungjun from committing murder.

(Looks like a personal problem to me.)

“I told you to give me at least a week in advance before calling me! You told me that Chihoon was dying! I fail to see anyone dying right now!”

“You wouldn’t have come otherwise!”

“Doesn’t mean you should fake murder someone!”

It was honestly amusing seeing at them go at it like little middle schoolers, fists bunching up the fronts of t-shirts. But before they could actually begin throwing punches, Sunhwa stepped in, complaining and wiggling a finger in Kwanghee’s face to not damage the models (Kwanghee, on the other hand, would have no problem being roughed up).

Between watching Hyungjun and Kwanghee fight and Sunhwa shoving an outfit in my arms, Jiho arrived with a wide smile, the said smile instantly falling when he found out the real reason behind my calling him over.

“Sorry Jiho,” I apologized, grabbing his hand for a quick squeeze before scooting another direction for Sunhwa to work my hair, “you were the only person I could call at such a short notice. I promise I’ll buy you dinner, alright?”

Usually, even the sound of dinner had Jiho shining all sorts of colors, but today, his grouch remained, fueling that uncomfortable pang of guilt in my left chest. But I didn’t get much time to dwell on it, being dragged to the staged indoor set.

Judging that pout, I’d have to buy more than just a simple burger meal.

Between swapping outfits (because stupid Kwanghee thought it’d be only productive if we shot every outfit twice, once for both Hyungjun and me) and getting my hair redone (I could practically feel it dying under the overdose of hair spray), I caught Junhong and Jiho arguing. The neither seemed all too happy, but I tried to pass it off as nothing.

They were just playing. It was nothing.

as if it was just nothing.

By the end of the shoot, Junhong had bitten Jiho three times and Jiho had nearly backhanded Junhong. If I didn’t step in between just barely at the nick of time, I might have ended up with two crying children on my hands.

“Whoa, what’s going on here?” Giving up on trying to fix my hair, I shoved down a baseball cap and turned toward a red faced Jiho as Junhong crashed into my knees, screaming.

Neither of them seemed too interested in answering me, too busy at having their heated stare off. Was this what they’d been doing for the past heavens know how long it took for Kwanghee to be pleased?

“Hyung is mine!”

“No, you said Himchannie hyung is mine!”

Junhong hissed a little at Jiho’s comment, gripping little fingers a little tighter into my jeans, clearly displeased. “You cheated! Mine! Mine, mine, mine!”

I wasn’t at all too sure what they were fighting about (ownership over me? Did I not have a say in this?) but as the hissing escalated in volume, I quickly picked Junhong off my jeans, letting him cling desperately to my neck.

“Jiho, be the bigger man please?”

“But!” His face went a shade redder - if that was even possible - as he clenched his fists, glaring hard at Junhong. If looks could kill, I’d most certainly be scared of the look Jiho had now. “Junhong’s being a selfish brat!”

And on came the screaming again.

By the end of today, I was surely going to end up deaf.

It took four burgers (Jiho took two, laughing in Junhong’s face when he couldn’t finish his one) and three scoops of ice creams to finish their fight, ending with the both of them getting a horrible case of brain freeze. And in the end of their argument, Jiho, being the obviously bigger and older, was claimed winner.

(Though, it didn’t matter who won what, I wasn’t so easily going to offer ownership over my being because a five year old and a middle schooler said they won. I wasn’t that easy.)

With a pat on the head and promise to call more often (and a single sided promise to throw Junhong away in the dumpster), we (well, I) waved Jiho off, putting their ownership war to a halt.

But despite it all, Junhong’s grouch didn’t clear up, not even after returning home.

Opening the door to the apartment, Junhong immediately wiggled away from me, hurtling toward the guest room with a soft whine and wail. I’m not child expert, but something told me that Jiho had managed to sorely bruise his pride.

“Junhonggie?” Crawling on all fours, I found him again under the large king sized bed, squishing himself into the furthest corner with an over exaggerated sniff. “Junhonggie, can you come out for a second?”

“No.”

Well, that was expected.

I sighed, cracking the kinks out of my back and stretching my hand out (albeit warily, knowing he’d bite if he wanted to) toward the little lump he’d curled himself to. “What’s wrong Junhonggie? Did you not like Jiho?”

He hissed.

Yeah, I admit, that’d been a stupid question.

“If you come out, I promise I won’t make you play with Jiho if you don’t want to.” At least, not until they figured out their differences and that I didn’t belong to either of them.

A minute, two, and Junhong crawled out to excessive coxing and promises, burying himself, dust and all, into my chest, digging his nose against my collar bones. Even an idiot could tell he wasn’t exactly too happy.

“Meany hyung said that hyung doesn’t like Junhong.”

Jiho played an unfair game.

“No, no. Jiho lied. Hyung like Junhonggie very much.”

He sniffed, a little louder this time, digging his fingers into my shoulder.

“Shh, don’t cry Junhonggie.” Your dad’ll kill me if he knew I made his kid cry on a near daily basis. Even if it wasn’t completely my fault this time around. “I like Junhonggie best.”

Junhong considered this for a little bit, pulling away and peeking up at me with teary eyes a second later. “Is Junhonggie number one?”

“Yes. Yes, Junhonggie is number one.”

Glad that was over.

Pressing a kiss to the crown of Junhong’s head (and swearing Junhong would forever be my number one at least thirty times), I managed to calm him down enough. And within minutes, he was starting to doze off, head bobbing awkwardly in sleep.

It was his idea, minutes later, to strip all the sheets off the beds and grabbing a few from the closets and spread across the living room floor. A sleep over, Junhong called it. It was a messy job, dusty and giant lumps of sheets everywhere, but I played along anyways, giving up my arm for Junhong to use as a pillow.

At least it was more comfortable than sleeping on the couch.

“Daddy’s spot,” Junhong smiled, patting the space in front of him.

“Is that where daddy’s going to sleep Junhong?”

He nodded eagerly, yawning.

“We’re all going to sleep together. Daddy, Junhonggie and hyunggie.”

Our one big happy family.

a/n: originally, this chapter was supposed to come the day after the last one, since i had the next achievement set as 52 comments. it's obvious i underestimated you guys when i set these ;ㅁ;// but i'm going to stop with the double updates until later. i had the worst of times writing this chapter and have been lacking 78 percent inspirations to write this. (22 percent going to plotting since that's going on fairly pleasantly enough) until further notice, i'm going to be doing just only my monday updates. and even then, i'm not so sure on the quality of the chapters. apologies in advance (and for this chapter as well otl).

on another news, a fight started right in front of me last night. scary . i almost got shoved into it. warning to everyone, stay clear away from drunk men at all costs. this was all because i wanted to please my dad (cause he's the one that made me go up to that street to buy sweet potatoes. he didn't pay me for those sweet potatoes though ... ... my money ... ...)