08.

February twelve.

Exactly one week had passed since anything in particular had happened (unless you counted Junhong’s Pororo losing his goggles - it tore off - and said owner having one of largest fits until Yongguk and I somehow managed to sew it back on). Seven days of doing absolutely nothing but sitting around and watch the days fly by.

That left two days, two far too short days, to finish our goddamned performance project. The same project that had gone absolutely no where since it began.

In short, I was pretty much screwed.

“Has your group started with your project at all?”

In calling Hyungjun, I’m somehow hoped him to be in the same predicament as me. Maybe I wouldn’t be failing (again) alone and I’d have someone to sit with me through the class next semester - and hopefully, said next semester wouldn’t be with Professor Park).

Unfortunately though, that wasn’t the case. It looked like I was the only one screwed over with such incompatible group members.

“You are so screwed.”

“Shut up and do your Chinese final.”

Groaning - long and exaggerated - I had my head tilt over the back of the sofa as Junhong scampered out from the guest room, Yongguk following behind him. The tilt of his brows asked what was wrong - and the scowl I sent in response told him not to ask.

(He got the message.)

“Didn’t you say that you were going out to meet a friend today?” Fixing his jacket, pausing to stand in front of me before he left again for work, Yongguk asked.

I could just only vaguely remember telling him last week, the night Junmyun had rescued Junhong from the top of the tube slide with sweet bribes. “.” Funny how he remembered while I hadn’t. That part hadn’t changed at all from the past. “Junmyun.”

Next came washing up, throwing off clothes and burning myself in the shower while Yongguk laughed, brushing back Junhong’s hair and helping him in his jacket. By the time I’d come back out, Yongguk had already left, leaving the tv on for Junhong and a scribbled note on the coffee (now unable to do its job properly no thanks to a certain Jo Kyuhyun).

“Did daddy leave, Junhong?”

He barely gave me a nod, too immersed into his afternoon cartoons to pay me proper attention. Expected.

Drying my hair, I read through the left message, scoffing at the apologies (he said sorry far too many times to matter) and promises to pay me back in double. It didn’t seem to matter how many times I told him it was fine, he’d still apologize anyways.

“Are you going to be a good boy today, Junhong?”

Ten minutes after, clothed and ready, I pulled Junhong away from the tv screen (he didn’t need to know how horrible wearing glasses could be), dropping him on my lap at the sofa. “If Junhong promises to be good while out with hyung’s friend today, hyung’ll buy Junhong lots of candy, aright?”

So maybe it wasn’t fair bribing a kid to be good, but honestly, after seeing how he’d reacted to Jiho, I didn’t want to take any chances. I didn’t need to poke another hole in my wallet (and something told me that Junmyun couldn’t be won over with a few burgers anyways).

For a second - after the last of his cartoon ended - Junhong seemed to mull the offer over, turning to me with a slight of his head. I was almost afraid what exactly was going on in that head of his.

“Who?”

“Junmyun. Uh, do you remember hyung’s friend from last week?” I waved my arms a little in vein attention at explaining. Why did it matter who I was talking about anyways? “It’s not Jiho.”

But just that seemed to be enough for him, a bright smile curling his lips.

“Promise!”

There went any hopes of getting Jiho to babysit Junhong while I was busy.

We didn’t get to mull around much after that, locking pinkies and swearing on everything precious (Junhong made me swear on Yongguk; why, I still can’t be too sure) to us, before the bell rang. Junhong was the first to run to the door, tripping over his socks and whimpering for a split second before running again to get the door.

(He’d taken a liking to answering the door, finding different people - usually his dad - on the other end who’d all coo over him and his fluffed cheeks.)

“It’s chocolate man!”

Chocolate man, aka, Kim Junmyun.

“Chocolate man?” The only person who didn’t quite seem to understand, however, was Junmyun himself. He’d practically dug himself in that grave himself, giving Junhong that chocolate bar (says Pororo ajusshi).

I laughed at him, standing there awkwardly on the other end of the door, cheeks puffed in a pout. Looks like I’m not the only one who disapproves of Junhong’s queer nicknames.

“Ignore him, he’s doing it on purpose.” Pulling my shoes on and helping Junhong with his, I shrugged up at Junmyun. “If you don’t react, he’ll stop … … maybe.”

“Maybe?” Junmyun squeaked a little in complaint, giving me more to laugh over. And this, this was why I liked hanging out with him; at this rate, by his reactions, Junhong would never tire of making fun of him. I hadn’t.

Stepping out with Junhong’s hand in mind, I was met with a very curious set of slit eyes. And judging the size (the leaking charisma) of the offending set of eyes, my guess was that this was the source of Junmyun’s problems. The infamous demon cousin, Wu Yifan.

(Junhong glared right back from behind my leg.)

Noticing the stare off - it was kind of hard to miss - Junmyun clapped his hand. “Ah! This is Yifan.”

“That’s Kris.”

(Kris was a snappy little brat.)

Ignoring the snippy interjection, Junmyun continued (I got the idea that he was interrupted on a daily basis by the kid). “He was supposed to stay at home today, but he kind of followed me out. He promised to be good,” the but was left unsaid and inferred.

“It’s fine.” I waved him off.

Because how bad could it be?

As I later figured out, horrible.

Yifan - Kris, as he’d drilled every time I made the mistake of calling him by his birth name - turned out to be absolutely stubborn, a complete opposite of what Junmyun was. Junhong was an angel in comparison. It was hard to believe that he and Junmyun were related at all.

For our dearest guest of honor, we’d had to stop by the convenience store for a fresh bag of chocolate to get him to stop kicking and tripping Junmyun. Thanks to him, Junhong got a few sweets for being quiet and good for once.

Judging the time, it was decided that we eat lunch and then head over to Seoul Forest (surprise, it’s not a forest) so Junhong and Yifan could run around without being run over by traffic. In that sense, I was glad Yifan decided to tag along; at least Junhong couldn’t be lonely while Junmyun and I caught up.

I could only hope that Yifan didn’t leave too much of a bad influence on Junhong.

Imagine what Yongguk would think when Junhong decides to kick him in the shin or a lack of chocolate.

“Yifan, please sit still. The fries do not belong up your nose.”

Lucky for me, Junhong had decided it was more fun watching Yifan (laughing along and only fueling Yifan’s stupid streak) up every hope of having a peaceful day out than actually trying to shove food up his nose. Because let’s be honest, I didn’t want to be the one to clean out his nose when Junhong decided to drink soup through his nostrils (I’m glad Yifan hadn’t tried that yet).

I tried not to laugh, but that as harder said than done and before long, I was just barely holding my sides together as Junmyun chased Yifan across the family restaurant, yelping apologies from table to table. They made a good combo - a gag combo.

“Look on the bright side, at least you’re never bored?”

Junmyun glared at little at me, wedging Yifan between himself and the wall, throwing an arm over the kid’s chest to keep him from wiggling under the table. “I’d rather be bored. The money isn’t worth it.”

“There’s got to be some perks.” Because watching Junhong, for me, had brought a lot. For one, I wasn’t as much as a cranky old cat man anymore, minus the cat. (Or maybe I’d become the cat man, seeing Junhong claimed himself to be one.)

The look Junmyun had me shutting up, stuffing face with my rice.

Apparently Wu Yifan didn’t come with perks.

Dutch paying, like all good budgeted college students should do, after wiping Yifan down in the restroom (because he thought it’d be fun to spill ketchup down his shirt, making it look almost as if he’d survived a shooting, or at the very least an apocalypse), we were headed to our next destination, there being the only chance Junmyun got a legitimate break since he’d agreed to babysitting his younger cousin. Lucky for him, Yifan got along fairly well with Junhong - though, it was questionable what Yifan was teaching him.

“The only time, the only time Yifan is ever pleasant is when he’s sleeping.” Plopping down on the wooden bench, an eye still glued on his cousin in case anything went wrong, Junmyun sighed, brushing a hand through his hair in exhaust. “Like, you’d seriously wonder where the little demon went. That’s how angelic he is when he’s sleeping. And then he wakes up and it’s like all hell rises again. And dear god, he’s even worse when he just wakes up.”

Our whole conversation ended up being mostly about the kids, the good and bad things as well as the things we needed to watch out for (never do anything dangerous in front of children, they will copy and follow).

It was only after say a given thirty or so minutes that our conversation switched instead to school and eventually my summer courses and my more than impossible group mates. And being a good sport, Junmyun let me complain as much as I want, bobbing his head every few minutes in the appropriate places in understanding.

Junmyun made a better listener than Kyuhyun ever would.

(I needed a new counselor.)

And by this point, we’d completely forgotten the kids we’d arrived at the park with. Only after Yifan had managed to roll himself slick in mud that we took notice. After, of course, Yifan had begun crying from getting mud in his eyes.

“Yifan!”

Junmyun’s eyes were nearly bulging as he took sight of his mud clumped cousin, dropping automatically to his knees to check for any scrapes or injuries. Thankfully, the only thing wrong turned out to be the mud in his eyes, a problem eased with running water from the fountain not too far away. But by this point, it was obvious our little date (the one Junmyun had asked me out on, but ended up as a playdate for the kids) was over.

Junhong, on the other hand, had managed to keep himself fairly clean, a smudge or two on his cheeks and hair and sticky fingers. His eyes and shoes had managed to stay relatively clean (I couldn’t say the same for his clothes though).

Taking straight after his dad, the whole time Junmyun rinsed the mud from Yifan’s eyes and face, Junhong hovered about, a frown pulling down his cheeks and hands lightly tapping his new sniffling friend’s back in support. “It’s okay, we can go to our house and Himchannie hyung’ll give you candies.”

The only muffled sentence we got back was: “Candies aren’t my style.”

Candy being Yifan’s style or not, we ended up back at my place, Junhong holding Yifan’s hand and swinging it between the two of them (the act a little awkward, Yifan being a good few centimeters taller than Junhong). It was cute - even Junmyun admitted.

The minute the apartment door opened, Junhong shot in, forgetting to take off his shoes, and returned with his favorite sweatshirt and pants handing them over to Yifan to get changed into while we threw his muddied clothes in the wash. Somehow, this reminded me a awful lot of a certain other smiling idiot in grade school.

“God, I wish Yifan could be even the slightest like Junhong. He’s an absolute angel. I bet you have no trouble at all watching him.”

I rolled my eyes. He may be nice now, but when when he had his moments, he made want to crawl back home to mom. (An apologizing Yongguk was the only thing that kept me from throwing my own fits.)

Ignoring his mesmerized cooing - he’d practically already made a fanclub in Junhong’s name by this point - at Junhong showing Yifan around, I filtered through the kitchen. “Want some tea?”

“Tea?”

That’s right, tea. Because Kyuhyun had taken the effort to barging in my room and stealing my coffee port and instant mixes. Apparently, making a neighborhood known face as a coffee addict hadn’t been enough, that he had to invade my personal space as well.

(I’m pretty sure he was breaking a few laws here.)

“Yes or no.”

“Yes please.”

Fetching two cups and pouring the both of us green tea, we settled in the dining room, deeming the house safe enough (child proofed enough) that Junhong and Yifan could get along without destroying the house or killing themselves in the process of their fun. And there, we began again our conversation where it left off, pausing only to sip at our (his, mine went abandoned and cold) drinks every few minutes.

Then, dinner came and went, feeding Yifan so much easier with bribes of sweets after eating his meal; and even then, we only just barely got five and a half spoons in before he erupted into another hissy fit. By then, I sent Junhong off to fetch the can of peppermint I left on my desk.

Even with the candy, Yifan just wouldn’t eat.

“Candy isn’t my style!”

And I didn’t like the idea of chocolate getting all over the apartment, but clearly we weren’t both going to walk away from this argument happy.

Junhong tried his best (his best being to awkwardly hover with both cheeks filled with two lumps of peppermint) to get Yifan to follow along, eventually taking him by the shoulder and shoving a handful of candies in his mouth.

The funny thing is, it worked.

“God, Junhong is a life savior. Can I have him?”

“You’ll have to ask his dad.”

But damn it if I wasn’t at this point extremely proud of him.

(I couldn’t help the proud father’s smile that crawled on somewhere in between.)

With Junhong and Yifan fixated on shoving candies in their mouth - and so good - I couldn’t find the word to tell them off the sweets. Who knew what hell Yifan would raise if I took the sweets away.

“I thought candy wasn’t your style Yifan.”

Junmyun was laughing and I was doing my god damned best not to laugh as well - because I didn’t need another five year old trying to kill me with his eyes.

“They might be cool.”

But sometimes, you just had to laugh.

It was somewhere between clutching my stomach and roaring in laughter that Yongguk walked in, head tilt and confusion clear in his stance and eyes. “Uh.” Well, that was a scene I didn’t quite want to explain.

“Hey, you’re back early!” Coughing and straightening up, hand fanning myself, I smiled. Or at least that’s what I tried for; it came out more as a grimace of pain. “This is Junmyun, a friend, and his cousin Yifan.”

(“It’s Kris!”)

We tried to wave him in the conversation, but he shot off, offering a shy (mute) hello and ducking in the guest room to hide.

“Uh, he’s shy.”

And really, that was all I could offer.

(Junmyun nodded. He didn’t question it.)

But Junhong, for whatever the reason, didn’t seem as pleased that talk about his dad had dropped so easily. Taking matters to his hands, he slid off his seat and into the guest room after his dad, arriving only with Yongguk in tow, seating him where he’d originally sat and taking his place on Yongguk’s lap.

“This is daddy.”

My god he seemed to proud of that.

In that way, a little forced, Yongguk got to know Junmyun, both offering stuttered hellos in greeting. It seemed I was the only one here able to make out a proper sentence without stuttering.

Yongguk didn’t participate much in the conversation, peeking in only once or twice before opting just to keep Yifan company, playing little hand games with him. (He’s an alien, able to somehow interact with Yifan without distracting him with candy or chocolate.) But Junhong didn’t seem to like this so much.

(He was usually so good; I couldn’t quite see why he felt the need to brag so badly - about things even I didn’t know about and hadn’t ever been brought up for me before - in front of Junmyun.)

“Daddy makes pretty music.”

Just as we’d returned (again - and again interrupted) back to discussing my failing project, Junhong piped in, for the first time managing to interrupt with a related topic.

“Daddy makes music?”

Junhong nodded proudly, sticking his chest out by just a little.

Junmyun had only just seconds to share a glance before trapping a Yongguk (who’d gone bright red in the face from Junhong’s need to compliment) trying so desperately to run away.

“You make music?” So maybe I’d bypassed professionality in tackling and sitting on Yongguk before asking him for a favor - but hey, I was getting pretty desperate here, who had the time for manners? “Why didn’t you ever tell me this before?”

Coming from a kid who used to be unable to tell the difference between a flat and sharp, this came as a huge surprise for me.

“It never came up,” he complained from under me, wiggling and trying to free his hands (that I’d sat on and trapped between my and his chest). “Can you let me go?”

Wasn’t the answer obvious?

No.

Still sitting on Yongguk, I managed to convince him to helping out my project, digging up one of his old projects and filtering through the music to make something more romancy (Junmyun helped) - something to fit with the topic. The babys helped as well, hovering with tilted heads at the music that came from my laptop, making comments on whether something was bad ( balls- where the hell did Yifan learn this phrase?) or good.

Two hours tops, I’d called up the rest of my groupmates and agreed to meet up for our filming. Taking the kids and dragging Yongguk out, I’d say the outcome of the project, my supposed fail inducer, was a success. (Because , even Yehynaggi and Wooram got along long enough for the shoot to progress.)

“And we’re done!”

Out of all of us, Yuri was probably the happiest, practically crying of joy - she needed this grade even more than me. Shaking everyone’s hand, tripping over herself getting to everyone, Yuri was off in a flash to edit what we’d recorded.

(Hopefully, she wouldn’t trip on the way home and break the camera.)

“Oh god, you’re a lifesaver!”

Heading back, after waving the rest of everyone off (promising to buy Junmyun dinner sometime for the help), I’d remembered to thank Yongguk in the only way I knew how. Physically.

Tossing my arm over his shoulder and practically hanging off of him, it was only right to say that I was all over him, pressing an exaggerated kiss to his cheek out of pure excitement. “Where the hell would I be without you? I swear you’re like some angel who fell out of heaven or something! I mean, sure you’re a little stupid sometimes but , you’re my stupid idiot!”

I made a scene.

Everyone was staring and Yongguk had gone a bright tomato red in the face.

a/n: i don't like how this chapter came out.

meeep ~ a late thank you for a hundred subscribers. i don't even know when i hit it - forgot to make a note of it -, but thank you ♥ have a random scribble drawing i did earlier this week.

have you guys seen the pictures from second baby day? i'm feeling second hand embarrassment at their dressing up as girls. otl. i didn't see daehyun and yongguk cross dressing though. did it happen? otl. i should have gone today. /crey.

also, i'll be mentioning this maybe later (if i don't forget), but i won't be able to update on the first week of february. and maybe the week after, depending. but that's a few weeks from now.

yeah that's all for now. merp. have a nice week.