There was music playing from somewhere on the floor above him.

Jiyong loved music, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was the fact that it was just a little after three o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday and he had a class at nine.

While he knew he could pass off the dark circles under his eyes and the general greasiness a lack of sleep tended to give a person off as some sort of tortured artist motif, he really didn’t need to be falling asleep in the middle of his Experimental Studio lecture.

And it was the third time in so many days, too.

He was quickly reaching the end of his patience, and he had a thirty page paper on Lee Ufan to turn in for revisions within the next two weeks that was currently only about two thirds of the way completed.

He paid a lot of money to rent a place in a slightly more upscale building than most of his peers almost entirely for the added benefit of silence that the larger apartments afforded him.

He deserved his peace and quiet, damnit.

Finally, around three-thirty he couldn’t take it anymore. Jiyong threw on his favorite tattered old bathrobe, the one with the oil paint stains on the cuffs and around the belt, and stepped out into the hall. He approached the stairwell, trying to figure out where the pounding bass originated from. The brownstone he lived in was older, thick walls and twisting corridors with dim lighting. He rounded a corner on the floor above his right when the music cut off. It was like they knew he was coming or something. He paused, uncertain if he should continue on his quest or just go back downstairs and get some sleep.

If he went back to bed, he’d just be back up here again come evening.

Jiyong walked to the end of the hall and peered out the little window there. He could see the swinging sign for the bookstore on the corner as it swayed in the wind, the same sign he could see from his kitchen window in his unit one floor below. He looked back and forth between the two doors on either side of the hall. The music had been so loud, surely it had to becoming from the person directly above him.

Squaring his shoulders, he straightened his robe and ran shaky hands through his blue-tinted hair. He’d never been big on confrontation, preferring to take his woes with the universe out of a canvas rather than actual people.

He rapped his knuckles sharply against the dark-stained wood, drawing himself up to his full height (which honestly wasn’t that impressive but still) and waited.

There was a scrape of metal on metal as someone turned a deadbolt and the muffled clatter of a chainlock as it was dropped and then the door opened to reveal a surly face adorned with scary eyebrows and tempestuous eyes.

“Who are you?” the man questioned in a deep, rich baritone.

Jiyong cleared his throat, suddenly much more nervous than he had been before. “My name is Jiyong Kwon, I live downstairs. The thing is-”

“Shhh!” The man gestured hurriedly, flapping a hand at him to lower his voice. “Do you have any idea what time it is?!”

“That’s why I’m up here. Your music is way to loud! You need to be more considerate of your neighbors-” Jiyong’s little tirade was abruptly cut off by a forlorn wail.

“Great. I just got him to sleep. First Eric and his damned night owl tendencies and then you..”

Jiyong blinked, gaping at the other man. “Is that a baby?” He asked. He didn’t even know anyone in this building had kids. It was mostly quirky singles and self-declared Child Free couples with the occasional sweet old grandmotherly like lady.

“He’s two, but I guess that’s still a baby.” The man muttered, scrubbing a hand over his haggard face. “Listen, I gotta take care of this. The music’s not us, okay?” He jerked his thumb across the hall to the other door. “You want him and he left for work like ten minutes ago. You just missed him.”

Jiyong nodded meekly, he should’ve just stayed in bed. “I’m sorry, Mr…”

“Choi. Seunghyun Choi. It’s alright. I get the no sleep thing.” He grinned wryly, looking over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Choi. I’ll just get out of your way.” He stepped back, offering an awkward bow before he escaped around the corner.

--

Other than an embarrassing retelling of the incident over brunch, Jiyong had put the whole wrong-door-scary-eyebrows incident behind him. In fact, he was so caught up in his latest project that he pretty much forgot the other man even existed until he ran into him on the stairs.

The man was lugging an armful of groceries to his floor, but the groceries seemed like they’d much rather take a tumble to their doom down the well-worn steps. And even though Jiyong, himself, was laden with a replenished collection paints, he found himself hurrying up the few steps that separated them and tugging a bag or two into his arms. The man looked startled at first but then he smiled at him gratefully and lead the way up two more flights of stairs to his unit.

He fumbled with the lock, finally managing to let them both in.

“Daddy!”

A plump toddler hopped up from the floor and made his way over to his father. He babbled as he went, Jiyong recognized a few words in English and a few in Korean but overall none of it made much sense. He supposed that was pretty typical for a kid that age, but what did he know? He was an only child and all of his friends growing up had either been only children or had siblings close in age. He didn’t have much experience with kids under the age of eight. At any rate, Mr. Choi seemed to be listening to the baby’s babbling very seriously. Nodding along and responding with questions of his own. A pretty teenage girl hopped up from her place on the carpet, shoving coloring books into her bag as she went.

“All done for today, Seunghyun?”

“Yes, I’m good. Here’s your pay, Hayi, I’ll see you tomorrow?” He said, handing the girl a twenty dollar bill from his wallet.

The girl waved at Jiyong as she passed, glancing him over curiously. He waved back, feeling more than a bit awkward.

“Jiyong, right? Thank for the help.”

He jolted, eyes jerking up to the image of Mr. Choi holding his son on his hip as he placed foodstuffs on the shelves in the pantry and in the fridge. The baby munched on a carrot from one of the bags, content to just watch everything with his big doe eyes.

“It’s the least I could do.” Jiyong said, gazing around the apartment. His eyes fell on a painting on the wall and he couldn’t resist the urge to step closer. “Is this an original Jason Martin?” He mumbled in amazement, almost more to himself than to the man who apparently owned the painting. “This is Breijinho, it sold for like fifty-thousand dollars to a private collector in November…” He looked over at Mr. Choi in awe, “Was that you?”

Mr. Choi looked surprised for a moment before he glanced at the bags Jiyong had sat down by the door and took note of the tubes of paint and bottles of linseed oil. “Ah, no. I mean, yeah, that’s the original, but I didn’t buy it. My mother did. She gave it to me as a birthday present.”

Jiyong nodded, his attention still on the painting. “His monochromatic paintings are my favorite. The layers of acrylic and the striations are beautiful. You can see so many things in the shapes, he titles them one thing like Feather or Amphibian, but I can find so many other things hidden inside the textures.”

Mr. Choi was smiling at him and Jiyong blushed. “So I take it you’re an artist?”

“Yeah.. I’m a graduate student at Pratt.” Mr. Choi made a noise in the back of his throat and Jiyong flashed him a grin over his shoulder. “So your mom buys you obscenely expensive contemporary art pieces for your birthday? What does your wife think about that?” That was probably the lamest attempt at casual he’d ever made but it was too late to take it back so Jiyong bit his tongue and waited.

“I don’t have a wife.”

Maybe he was a jerk for being relieved, and maybe he was being an idiot because the guy had a kid, but hey, he could hope right? “That’s too bad? His mother?..”

“Juwon. His name is Juwon and he..” Mr. Choi hesitated for a second before he placed the little boy down on the floor near his toybox, successfully distracting him for the moment with a few quick words and a technicolor gizmo of some kind.

He stepped closer to Jiyong and spoke in a low voice, “He’s not my son. I mean he is my son, legally, but he’s not my son. His parents… my best friend Wooyoung and his mother.. They died when he was around a year old. I was his godfather.. They said in their will that if anything were to happen to them.. They didn’t want him to go back to their parents in Korea. So he’s mine now. I’ve had him for a year now. It’s hard but I..” His eyes rested on the small form cooing over his toy, “If he can’t have his parents.. I wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s my entire world.”

Jiyong stared up at the other man, taking in how much taller than him he was and filing itaway in the back of his mind. “Ah, that’s sad. I’m sorry, I’m bad with words. I’m better with my hands.” He blushed then, because that sounded terrible. He panicked, backing for the door, he gathered up his bags and muttered a quick, “I should really get going, it was nice meeting you Juwon, and it was uh, nice talking to you Mr. Choi…” He managed to get the door open without embarrassing himself any further.

“Jiyong?”

“Yes?” He poked his burning face back through the door.

“Call me Seunghyun.”

---

“He has a kid.”

“So?” Seungri countered, grinning in the mirror as he applied the blue-tint to Jiyong’s hair. “Don’t feel like playing mommy to somebody else’s brat?”

Jiyong frowned at him, “He’s not a brat. And that’s not the point. I don’t even know if he.. He’s probably straight. They’re always straight.”

“Well did you ask him?”

“I’m not asking him.”

“So what are you gonna do, just wait until he asks you to marry him?”

“No. I’m gonna wait until he asks me out for coffee.”

“If he doesn’t know you like him, how is he suppose to ask you out for coffee.”

“I don’t even know if I do like him!” Jiyong whined, he swatted at Seungri’s side and the woman at the station next to them clucked her tongue at them for rough housing. “Why do I even come here? You’re a terrible stylist.”

“You come here because my salon is the best salon ever and I’m an amazing stylist, thank you very much? How could you even question that?”

“You’re bedside manner is terrible. You’re suppose to listen to me complain while you make me look pretty, who asked you anyway?”

“This is a chair, not a bed. And shut up, you would die without me telling you what to do.”
 

Jiyong glared at him in the mirror.

He was probably right, but he wasn’t about to tell him that.

---

It was pouring down rain outside, literal rivers flowing over the pavement outside, washing over wheel wells and flooding first floor lobbies city wide.

Jiyong had walked down to the mailboxes, thinking about maybe making a run for the convenience store, but that was a no-go. He was just about to head back up to his apartment when he caught the tail-end of a desperate sounding phone conversation.

“Hayi, are you sure you can’t make it? I can’t miss this appointment, it’ll ruin me. I’ve already had to reschedule it twice.” A pause, then, “No, no. I understand. If it’s not safe, it’s not safe.” Another pause, “I have a taxi coming to pick me up, the subway is down for the moment because of the flooding. I’ll just have to call and cancel it, I don’t have anyone to watch Juwon-”

“I can watch him.”

The words were out of his mouth before he even really thought them through. Seunghyun looked up from his position leaning against the wall of the stairwell. He was dressed immaculately in a dark suit, his hair styled back from his forehead in gorgeous waves.

He hung up, “Seriously? You want to watch him?”

Jiyong nodded, not about to back down now.

Seunghyun peered at him for a moment before he sighed and lead him back up the stairs. He opened his door and lead Jiyong inside. Juwon sat on the lap of a young man in his twenties with blonde hair and a collection of piercings “Eric, thanks for watching him for me. Jiyong’s got it from here.” Seunghyun took Juwon in his arms, shaking the other man’s hand.

“No problem, man. I gotta run. With the subway down it’s gonna take me forever to get to work.”

“Good luck.”

Seunghyun held Juwon out to Jiyong. Jiyong stared at him for a moment before reaching out and taking the kid. He was heavier than he’d thought he’d be.

“His dinner is all ready to go in the fridge, you’ve just got to heat it up. It’s in the green container. His diapers are in the caddy on the side of the changing table in his room. PJs are in the top drawer of his dresser. His bedtime is eight but he’s not easy to put down. Just rock him until he falls asleep. Give it about twenty minutes before you even think about trying to put him down in his crib. If you don’t he’ll just spring right back up and you’ll have to start all over again.”

Jiyong nodded, wide-eyed. He’d never changed a diaper in his life.

“I should be back by eleven, but if the weather gets any worse it might be a bit later than that. Are you sure you’re gonna be okay? My number and all the emergency contacts are on the fridge. If you need anything or it gets to be too much just call me. Okay?”

Jiyong scoffed, shoving every bit of bravado he could muster into the sound, “We’ll be fine. We’ve got this, right Juwon?” He tickled his sides and the baby squealed, a smattering of words that went right over Jiyong’s head accompanying the sound.

Seunghyun checked his watch. “I’ve got to go. I’m going to be late as it is. You can go ahead and give him his dinner whenever you’re ready.” He leaned over and kissed Juwon’s chubby cheek. “I love you, Juwon-ah. Daddy will be home when you wake up. Eggs for breakfast, yeah? You be good for Mr. Jiyongie. Go right to sleep, okay?” He ruffled the baby’s hair, seemingly oblivious to Jiyong’s burning face.

Mr. Jiyongie

“Goodbye! Be safe!” He called after Seunghyun’s retreating back. Be safe! He groaned, mortified. What was he, his mother?

“Juwonnie, let’s get you fed, okay? Before I die of embarrassment.”

Maybe he’d never had it before, but Juwon did not seem fond of steamed zucchini. Judging by the amount of it he managed to sneak into the sides of his highchair, he didn’t seem like he liked the little cubes of chicken either.

Seunghyun hadn’t said anything about giving him a bath, but his little head of fluffy dark hair was absolutely smothered in smashed bits of squash and he didn’t think a wash rag was going to cut it.

So Jiyong tentatively braved the bathroom. It was a strange assortment of toddler and bachelor. There were little rubber duck decals on the bottom of the tub and a basket of toys and a counter full of expensive looking skin care products and hair gel and a few bottles of cologne.

Jiyong ran Juwon a warm bath with barely enough water to cover his chubby little thighs. He located the baby wash and set about cleaning the wriggly mass of tiny human.

“Juwon-ah, hold still so I can rinse your hair!” He pleaded, but the baby just giggled, another string of unintelligible gibberish in two languages. By the time it was all over, Jiyong ended up with more water on him than in the tub, he was sure. He was soaked.

“Ah, I can’t go around like this for the rest of the night..” He thought about carrying Juwon down to his apartment for a fresh change of clothes… but then he remembered the numerous poisonous chemicals and sharp implements that littered his living room at the moment and thought better of it.

So that was how he found himself rifling through Seunghyun’s drawers until he found a plain t-shirt and some sweats. Did he feel like a creep as he tugged them on? Absolutely. But a wiff of Seunghyun’s cologne still hung to the fabric as he pulled the t-shirt over his head and he decided he could live with being a creep for one night.

Jiyong scooped the towel clad bundle of toddler up off the floor and twirled with him into his room, smiling at the baby’s happy giggle. He pulled a PJ set out of the top most drawer, some blue and white number with little turtles all over it, before placing Juwon on the changing table.

Now was the moment; Jiyong versus Diaper. He finished towel the kid off, coaxed him into lying down, and pulled out a diaper. He glared at it. How were you suppose to tell which was the front and which was the back? There was a picture on one side and a number he guessed was suppose to indicate the size on the other. He guessed he got it on right because it looked okay, but what did he know?

The pajamas turned out to be a bit more challenging. Every time he managed to wrangle one foot into a leg, the other foot would pop out again. It took him a solid five minutes to stuff the wriggly toddler into appropriate bedtime clothing. Who knew dressing kids was that much of a work out? He was actually a bit out of breath!

He checked his watch and it was just a little past eight.

“Time for bed, kiddo.” He said, lifting him up and making his way over to the antique looking wooden rocking chair by the window. Juwon curled up against his chest easily enough, his little fist wrapping around the loose material of Seunghyun’s too big shirt on Jiyong’s frame. His thumb settled between his lips and he babbled softly, seemed to almost be singing a song to himself.

His eyes slid shut and Jiyong sighed in relief. This was easier than he’d thought it was going to be. The kid was already asleep. Now all he had to do was wait for Seunghyun to come home and then he could escape back to his apartment. Juwon let out a deep shuddering breath and Jiyong stood up slowly. Carefully, he lowered him down into the crib and was halfway to the door when he heard a tiny voice, as clear as a bell.

“Daddy.”

Crap.

Seunghyun had said twenty minutes but his back was killing him.

“Juwon-ah! You’re daddy will be back soon, yeah? Lay down and close your eyes and when you open them again he’ll be here.”

The child fixed him with a dubious look. His bottom lip poked out and his eyes began to shine with the beginnings of tears. He held out soft little baby hands and said sadly, “Up!”

“It’s time for bed, Juwon-”

The bottom lip was trembling now. The beginnings of a whine was building in his throat. It sounded for all the world like an air raid siren revving up and Jiyong’s eyes sprang wide, “No, no, no! Don’t cry!”

Too late. Juwon wailed.

Jiyong snatched him up and plopped back down in the rocking chair, resigning himself to another half-hour on his .

Only this time Juwon didn’t close his eyes. He snuggled back up against Jiyong’s chest and resumed his hold on his shirt, but his eyes remained stubbornly open and his bottom lip stayed poked out in a displeased little pout. His eyebrows were drawn together in such a way that if someone had told him in that moment that he wasn’t Seunghyun’s biological son he would’ve called them a liar to their face.

They were at a stalemate. Every time Jiyong shifted, Juwon whined. If he cleared his throat or coughed, he earned himself a glare. When Juwon finally did drop off to sleep, Jiyong waited the required twenty minutes, but as soon as he tried to stand the tiny fist tightened back up and the air raid siren noise started again.

“You’re killing me, buddy.” He groaned, trying to get more comfortable. Juwon pushed a dimpled hand against his lips, a clear sign for him to shut up, apparently. So he shut up, and he must have fallen asleep, because it felt like only minutes later the weight of the toddler was disappearing from his arms and he opened his eyes to see Seunghyun carefully lowering his son into the crib with soothing murmurs that sounded a lot like the song Juwon had been crooning to himself earlier.

Seunghyun turned to him, a finger held against his lips. He held a hand out for Jiyong to take and Jiyong, blood thrumming in his veins, took it carefully. Seunghyun pulled him out of the room, helping him navigate the squeaky spots on the floor, until they reached the relative safety of the living room.

“I take it he gave you a hard time?” He whispered.

Jiyong shrugged, “My fault. I didn’t wait twenty minutes. He didn’t trust me after that. Smart little booger.”

Seunghyun laughed, “Yeah, he takes after his mother like that. She was brilliant. I see a lot of both of them in him.”

“He really loves you. It’s great that he has you.”

“He deserves more. He deserves the world.”

Jiyong smiled, endeared. He turned his attention back to the Jason Martin painting on the wall. In the low light from the kitchen, he could almost imagine that he saw an outline of a child’s hand held inside that of an adult’s.

“Are you wearing my clothes?”

Jiyong felt like he was dying, “Oh god, Seunghyun, I’m sorry. I had to give Juwon a bath and it didn’t go so well. I didn’t really have anything to change into. Here, let me run downstairs. I can change right now-”

Seunghyun caught his hand as he rushed by him, “Stop, no. I-..You.. they look good on you. You look.. You look really cute…”

“Oh yeah?” Jiyong swallowed around the lump in his throat, realized somewhere in the back of his mind that Seunghyun was using the hand he’d caught to reel him in closer.

“Yeah.. and Juwon.. He really likes you. You guys looked really comfortable in there. It was nice.. Most of the time when I have a new babysitter I come home to tears and a mess...but you… you did really well with him..”

“Thank you, I really like him, too. He’s a sweet kid, I-”

Seunghyun leaned forward then and kissed him. Jiyong hadn’t even realized how close they were standing until Seunghyun’s fingers were resting gently against his waist and his lips were pressing against his sweetly. Jiyong squeaked, his cheeks flaring back to life. He was probably close to the color of the useless stoplights outside in the storm.

Seunghyun pulled away, but his fingers stayed pressed against his side. “I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean to assume. You probably have someone. You’re great, of course you do-”

“I don’t!” Jiyong gasped, “I don’t have anyone, I’m wide open for someone, I-” He stumbled to a stop, his ears were burning now, too, god did he just say he was wide open, what was wrong with him? “Just kiss me again!” He lifted up on his toes and pressed his mouth against Seunghyun’s. It wasn’t like he could mess up kissing.

They broke apart again, “That’s good, you not having anyone. I mean, it’s not good- Ah, Jiyong, I haven’t asked anyone out in over a year, just please, lets go out for coffee some time?”

“Yes. Absolutely. That sounds amazing-”

“Great. Perfect.”

“Perfect.”

Seunghyun leaned down to kiss him again,

“Daddy!”

They both turned towards Juwon’s bedroom door.

“Duty calls.” Seunghyun laughed.

Jiyong giggled, turning to collect his things by the door. “I put your number in my phone earlier. I’ll text you, okay?”

“Okay. I’m looking forward to it.”

Jiyong waved at him one last time before he closed the door.

He made it halfway down the hall before he caved and called Seungri.

“You’ll never guess who just asked me out for coffee.”