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The window is open to let out a soft, gentle breeze. The curtains billow inwards, gently flowing in the air. Baekhyun feels the breeze tickle his cheek and his eyes flutter open, blinking at this new light before he recognizes his surroundings—but he knew that he wasn’t supposed to here at the same time. He’s in his old house; the house he sold before moving to the small little flat.

The house he lived in before his little baby died.

He sat up, straightening himself from the seat he had fallen asleep in, comfortable and sinking. There’s a slight sound when he sets his hand against the arm of the chair and he raises his hand up curiously, wondering where the noise had come from.

It’s his wedding ring, silver and lovely, cool to the touch. He vaguely remembers the day Chanyeol proposed to him—it was first a diamond ring, to which Baekhyun said no. Then Chanyeol got rid of the diamond and Baekhyun finally said yes.

It’s still on his finger. He’s still in this house. Which means…

It’s a dream…?

Baekhyun gently took the ring off, holding it in front of him. He tilts it slightly to let the sunshine bounce off its surface.

Then he remembers that in real life, in his present wakening, that he had sold off the ring to pay for the surgery. Baekhyun purses his lips and sets the ring down on the coffee table in front of him—while he did not think twice about selling it off, he was still rather fond of it (but would never admit it).

He was about to close his eyes again, the sunshine and the breeze lulling him to sleep before he hears an incomprehensible murmur—not an adult. Not any person he particularly recognizes, but he knows that it’s of a child. His eyes are suddenly attracted to a small cot that he did not notice was there before, and he almost tore up at the small being that was only visible by the gaps of the cot bar, moving and squirming slightly, before it broke into a tiny cry.

Something tugged at Baekhyun’s heart and it forced his legs to move, gently approaching the cot with purpose that he did not know. He pressed his lips together when the face of his first son meets his eyes and he backs away, terrified. All the memories of the fire suddenly racked up and flashed in front of him and he falls to his knees, trembling, holding his own shaking hands and touching his cold and clammy face.

Though it was a dream, the cries were as real as it sounded and Baekhyun could no longer ignore it.

Baekhyun held onto the cot for support, taking harsh, shallow breaths. He stood up with shaky limbs and looked at his baby’s face, scrunched up and damp with tears, delicately wrapped up in white cotton, small doll-like toes covered in blue socks. Baekhyun gently picked him up and rested him against his arms, instinctively hushing it to comfort, and the cries soon subsided into whimpers before disappearing into silence.

Baekhyun always thought his little baby was special, despite Jongdae’s numerous jokes that all babies looked pretty much the same. Minhyun had this tiny little button nose that scrunched whenever he giggled or cried, and curious hands that come up to grasp everything it could hold. Soft, wispy hair framed his little face and Baekhyun had never been so protective of anything else in his life.

Some of his friends thought he’d gotten soft after marrying Chanyeol. A little less blatant, a little less rude, a little less snarky. Perhaps they were right—or partially right. Baekhyun had become a little wobbly in his state of mind ever since his parents passed away from depression. The latter was caused from their disapproval of marrying Chanyeol. Baekhyun was constantly torn between deciding his parents were right or he truly loved Chanyeol to disregard his parents—spending time with his little baby gave him a break from guilt.

Then when Chanyeol left, his little baby was all he had.

Baekhyun rocked the baby back and forth, and he slowly nuzzles his face onto the baby’s, planting a soft kiss between his brows. The little infant lets out an intelligible murmur and grasps Baekhyun’s nose, pinching it between his starfish fingers to which Baekhyun laughed and gently swatted his hand away. Minhyun’s little murmurs continue and Baekhyun, despite being unable to decipher his infant mumblings, listened intently anyways, watching his baby with starry eyes, completely lost as to what dimension he was in right now.

“What are you trying to tell me, hm?”

Baekhyun blinks and, as if disappearing into thin air, his little baby disappears. The small weight in his arms becomes heavier and Haechan takes his place—six-year-old Minhyun—propped in his arms with eyes like doe, blinking in this world. Baekhyun glanced around and realised that his old house has become their flat, dinky and cramped with little space. Something broke in Baekhyun’s heart upon realizing that his little baby was no longer alive; he had tried so hard to fill that hole in his heart.

Kim Haechan did not fill that hole, but simply dug a new one. Nothing could replace Baekhyun’s little baby—but he loved Kim Haechan all the same like his own.

Kim Haechan—Minhyun—looked at Baekhyun’s forlorn face.

“Come home, Daddy,” he laments, slow and quiet. Baekhyun frowns.

“What do you mean? We are home,” Baekhyun said, gesturing at the surroundings of the flat. Minhyun shook his head pointedly.

“Alright,” Baekhyun said wistfully, “Then where is home?”

Minhyun shuffled a little in his arms and climbed down his figure, before taking Baekhyun’s hand in his own little chubby ones. Minhyun slowly lead Baekhyun to the door leading outside, though everything seem to whiten as Baekhyun got closer to the door. He slowly grabs ahold of the handle and his vision blinds and warmth seeps into his skin, enveloping him in a feeling of comfort, walking into an uncertain future.

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Is this, perhaps… home?

He doesn’t know.

But it’s reality as Baekhyun knows it.

As soon as he opens his eyes, he recognizes Jongdae’s stricken face, pale with worry and concern. Baekhyun doesn’t recognize his surroundings—it looks like a waiting room—but he doesn’t fail to acknowledge the soreness and fatigue creeping into his body immediately, wracking his joints as if they were dislocated. He feels Jongdae’s lap behind the nape of his neck and his legs were rested onto a few seats in front of him.

A hospital, he presumes. What an odd place to wake up in, though.

“B-Baekhyun—thank god,” Jongdae wheezes out a breath he seemed to have been holding for minutes, his brows relaxing. He helps Baekhyun sit up and gave him a bottle of water, in which Baekhyun almost chokes as he drank it as he realises how dry his throat was.

“W… Where—“

“You passed out at work,” Jongdae answers quickly, as if prepared to say it when Baekhyun came round, “You didn’t have any outstanding symptoms when we called the ambulance, b-but I figured—I figured we’d have a routine test for you anyways… see if… anything’s up. They excused you from work.”

“Thank you,” Baekhyun murmurs. A sharp twang of pain suddenly pangs his head and he holds his temples, squeezing his eyes shut, but he manages to hold his focus on Jongdae’s face.

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