They were just supposed to go to a party, hang out, maybe have a beer if there were any available. They weren’t supposed to start playing beer pong. They weren’t supposed to start making out in the kitchen of this guy’s house. They weren’t supposed to follow the chants of “get a room.” They weren’t supposed to have in a random bedroom before they stumbled out of the party for Heechul to drop her off back at her house in the wee hours of the morning.

She wasn’t supposed to tell him two months later that she hadn’t had her period since before the party. She wasn’t supposed to tell him that he was going to be a father.

He wasn’t supposed to screw up his entire career before he even started it.

“How the hell do you know it’s mine, huh?” Heechul snarls at her, and the two sixteen year olds are glaring at each other from across the lunch table, talking in hushed voices.

“You’re the only one I’ve done it with, you jerk!” She wants to yell at him, but she doesn’t exactly want to advertise her pregnancy to the whole school, even if most of them have already left to go home.

“Then ing abort it.” He tells her, “Get rid of it, I don’t want it.”

She looks heartbroken, and she flinches back at the words, “I’m not going to get rid of it. It’s my child; our child.”

“Don’t you dare tell anyone it’s mine, then.” He seethes at her, “I’m going to be a singer; I’m going to be famous, I can’t have a kid!”

“It’s your child!” She tries to reason with him as he gets up to leave, “You don’t want anything to do with it?”

She looks like she’s going to cry, but Heechul doesn’t care. He doesn’t have time for a kid, and his parents would kill him if they found out he got a girl pregnant.

“When I’m famous, don’t tell it who I am. It’s not gonna be my problem.” He tells her, narrowing his eyes before turning and hurrying away.

She doesn’t come back the next year. Her family moves away, and no one hears from her again. In July, Heechul receives a photo in the mail. It’s a picture of a baby boy, Lee Taemin, born on July 18^th. The photo tells him how much the baby weighed at birth, and the baby’s length when he was born.

He can’t bring himself to throw the picture away, and he remembers the name of little Lee Taemin, the baby who looks just like him.

Five years later, a little boy is crying while his mother carries him home. His power rangers backpack is hanging off one of her shoulders, and she pats his back lovingly while she tries to calm him down.

“B-But mommy, why don’t I-I have a daddy?” The little boy sniffles while he asks his mother the question, and she his hair and kisses his head while she thinks of an answer. She hates that other children make fun of her son for not having a father, but there’s nothing she can do to stop them for now, so she comforts him as best she can.

“Because mommy loves you enough for both a mommy and a daddy, and because you have grandma and grandpa to love you, too.” She tells him, walking into the house she lives in with her parents and son.

“But everyone has a daddy. Where’s mine?” He looks at her with the most wide, innocent eyes she’s ever seen.

“Your daddy lives in another part of Seoul, baby.” She tells him, putting him down and telling him to get out his homework.

“What’s my daddy’s name, mama?” He questions her, sitting down with her in the living room to do his homework.

She looks nervous, but smiles at him and runs her fingers through his hair, “Heechul. Your daddy’s name is Heechul, Taeminnie.”

“Heechul, Heechul, Heechul,” The little boy bounces up and down while he practices the alphabet, having his mother check his homework when he’s done.

He greets his grandmother warmly when she comes home from work, and he sits on the counter and helps her prepare dinner as much as he can. He mostly just tastes the food while she makes it, but when the door opens and his grandfather announces that he’s home, he hops down from the counter and hurries to hug the man.

“Papa, papa! Come look what I did at school!” Taemin drags his grandfather into the living room where his backpack is, and the man chuckles at his grandson’s enthusiasm.

“I drawed this for you, papa.” Taemin tells him, a cute smile on his face while he holds up the crayon picture he made during their art lesson, “So you can take it to work.”

“You drew it, Taemin.” He corrects with a smile on his face, picking up his young grandson who nods quickly.

“Yep, I drew it just for you, papa!” Taemin giggles when the man kisses his cheek, moving to hide his face in his grandfather’s neck.

When Taemin is eleven, he tells his mother he wants to be a dancer; that he wants to become an idol. She disagrees with him, telling him it’s a long shot to become an idol. She only told him of whom his father really is a couple months ago, when Heechul debuted, and now he’s dead set on auditioning for SM Entertainment.

“No, Taemin.” She tells him firmly, and he looks betrayed before he runs into the other room.

“Papa, tell her I can dance!” Taemin begs his grandfather, knowing he has the man wrapped around his finger, “Please, papa.”

“You really want to do this, Taemin?” The man asks, sighing as the eleven year old hugs him tightly.

“Yes. Please, I want this so bad, papa.” The boy begs, hiding his face in his grandfather’s chest.

“I’ll talk to her,” The man sighs, but he can’t help but smile at the bright grin on his grandson’s face.

Taemin passes his audition.

Heechul knows it’s his kid the second he lays eyes on him; the second he sees the picture of this new trainee. The boy has his face; looks just like him. He’s the same age as his own kid, the kid he never met even once. He didn’t want to meet his kid; he didn’t want anything to do with him. Now, Heechul can’t stop thinking about the trainee with his face who’s the same age as his son, who has the same name as his son.