^ relevant ^

We're very sorry for the wait~. This chapter is mostly how Howon and Sunggyu handle their respective families at home. Again, it's not much, but it should get us started with the actual story. In a way, it's better to know their households before getting to the ships. (or so I say as an excuse.)

Comments and upvotes are greatly appreciated, but do enjoy the story. ^^

“It wasn't my fault this time, Appa!” Sungyeol tells Howon over the dinner table.

“Then it wasn't your fault,” Howon just agrees, cutting up Sungjong's chicken into little pieces he's sure that his little boy can eat. Sungyeol pauses.

“Oh,” the boy sits down on his chair, looking a little lost. “Okay.”

“Why, was it your fault?” Howon turns to look at Sungyeol then, who suddenly drops his innocent look to that of a deer caught in headlights. Sungjong starts to eat a large spoonful of rice beside Howon, and his eyes are trained on his older brother. Unlike Howon, Sungjong was definitely listening to Sungyeol's messy excuse to get out of trouble. “Because you should tell me if it was your fault.”

“I didn't do it, Appa, honest!” Sungyeol sputters as he throws his noodle-like arms up into the air, “It was definitely Pretty Boy!”

“Why would Myungsoo throw his own shoe into the bushes?” Howon asks Sungyeol, brow arched. His eldest son stuffs his face with rice and chicken, avoiding Howon's eyes. “I know Myungsoo. He's a good boy who uses his brain before doing things. Myungsoo would never throw his own shoe into a bush.”

“But I saw him do it,” Sungyeol claims with a mouthful of food. It's disgusting, but Howon is so used to Sungyeol ignoring table manners. Howon brushes a grain of rice away from the corner of Sungyeol's mouth, “He slid down the slide and just took off his shoes. Then he threw them over the fence. It was weird.”

“That's not what Mr. Jung said when he called me at work, earlier,” Howon frowns. “He said that you threw his shoes into the bushes.”

“Mr. Jung got hit in the head by Pretty Boy's other shoe!”

“That makes it even worse, Sungyeol.”

“But I didn't do it,” Sungyeol whines, mouth wide open. Howon's nose scrunches up and he pinches the boy's full cheeks. Sungyeol pouts, closes his mouth, and chews his rice.

“Your alibi was all wrong from the get go,” Howon sighs before swallowing a mouthful of his own food. “There's no way you would have been able to see Myungsoo do that from the bathroom. The windows are too high up for you to see the outside. Besides, didn't you say you were in there to wash your hands? You wouldn't have been near the windows. And the other kids said you didn't even stay in there for a minute.”

“They're lying,” Sungyeol says.

“But it's bad to lie,” Sungjong pipes up, and Howon just nods. His sons are very different from each other. While Sungyeol is the childish and mischievous one, albeit being the eldest, Sungjong's the mature and nice one. It both amuses and amazes Howon to no end. “And you get in big, big trouble if you lie. Right, Appa?”

Howon nods, lips pursed and eyes serious. It makes Sungyeol squirm in his seat and chew his food slower. The boy is definitely guilty.

“You heard Sungjong. It's bad to lie,” Howon cups his eldest son's face with one large hand, the side of his thumb tapping against a puffed up cheek. “If you fess up, I at least won't take away your dessert.”

Sungyeol pouts, watching his father alternate from calmly eating his dinner and feeding Sungjong in front of him, only feeling slightly irritated with the situation he finds himself in, “But then Appa won't let me eat dessert or watch TV for the next week.”

“Okay, how about we negotiate things,” Howon drops Sungjong's spoon onto his plate, the younger boy quickly grabbing at it and shoveling rice and chicken into his mouth, as if he had not been fed for weeks. “If you plead guilty of throwing Myungsoo's shoes, I won't take away your desserts.”

“Then I did do it,” Sungyeol confesses.

“Okay. Dessert's all yours,” Howon nods at him.

“The TV?” Sungyeol presses.

“Only if you apologize to Myungsoo tomorrow, then I won't take away your rights to watching TV,” Howon finishes with a tilt of his head. His eyes scan over Sungyeol's bitter expression, one that quickly fades into something thoughtful, but then there's a glint of rebellion. “If you don't, then no TV for a week.”

Sungyeol huffs in defeat. “Fine. I'll say sorry to Pretty Boy.”

Howon smirks, “You know I'm good friends with Myungsoo's Appa. I will ask him to ask Myungsoo if you actually did apologize.”

“I said I will.”

“Good,” Howon pats Sungyeol on the shoulder.

“Appa, I'm finished!” Howon turns to see Sungjong lifting up his empty plate—really, it's amazing how spotless it was. Crumbs and rice were scattered around his lips and the bottom of his cheeks, and Howon thinks that he should have just kept an eye on Sungjong.

“Waa! Already? Did Lee Sungjong throw away the food when Appa wasn't looking?” It was a silly question, considering traces of said food were really smeared all over and around Sungjong's mouth. The boy puffs up his cheeks and furrows his brows, his hands on his hips. Howon laughs and ruffles Sungjong's hair, “Appa was only joking. I know you ate well. Now Appa will get you your bowl of ice cream.”

“I don't want any,” Sungjong says.

Sungyeol sputters loudly, and Howon just looks at his youngest child.

“What?”

“I'm busy!” Sungjong proclaims, getting up and climbing off the chair. Howon doesn't let him; he picks his son up under the boy's arms and makes him stand on the chair, facing him. A thumb brushes away the rice and crumbs on Sungjong's face, and somewhere behind Howon, Sungyeol stares at his little brother with absolute disbelief and horror.

Please Subscribe to read the full chapter