Jongdae yawns and rubs his eyes under his glasses, sniffing. The clock reads a one ‘o’clock in the morning and he lies back in his chair, stretching his arms, wondering if he should retire for the day. He looks behind him where the bed was against the wall, and chuckles when he sees Minhyun fast asleep, his body in such position that was similar to a frog, his thumb. Jongdae shook his head.

He saved his files and closed off his laptop, scratching his head. He shouted in surprise and jerked when he heard the door knock in the middle of the silence. Who knocks at one in the morning?

A little paranoid, Jongdae got out of the bedroom and tip-toed through the hallway, frowning. Taking a deep inhale, he reached for the doorknob, suspense eating his curiosity, before he opens the door slowly and peeked his head out.

“Oh! It’s only you, Baek.” Jongdae loudly whispered, sighing in relief. Baekhyun nods, shivering before Jongdae invited him in. Baekhyun sways for a moment or two and he leans against the wall, glad of the temperature change.

“You’re way too early—doesn’t your shift end at six in the morning? What happened? Did they let you go?”

“… No, not exactly…” Baekhyun shook his head, sounding groggy.

“—Did you—did you get fired?” Jongdae gasps, wide-eyed. Baekhyun jerks out of his fatigued state and he manages a smile, chuckling as he shook his head.

“I—no, no… it’s…” Baekhyun’s smile disappears gradually before his expression turns unreadable again. “…It’s… I… it’s a long story, Jongdae… I’ll… tell you in the morning. I came here to pick up Minhyun.”

“He’s sleeping—you can stay, if you want. I’ll sleep in the couch.”

Normally, Baekhyun would’ve refused any sort of offer Jongdae gives, but his tired mind gives in and his body weakens to fatigue. He slowly hobbles to Jongdae’s room and his face lit up with a small smile at the sight of his son, chuckling. He lied himself next to Minhyun and corrected his sleeping position, his hair. Baekhyun laughs with gladness and he envelops his tiny son in his arms, and Jongdae could see the tears in his eyes.

“My baby.” Baekhyun softly cooed, kissing the top of Minhyun’s head. Not long after, his eyelids droop and his breathing evens. Jongdae stares at them fondly, feeling a little stupid as he smiled at them both, before he pocketed his hands and walks briskly to the living room to crash out on his couch.

__

The next time Jongdae was awake was at seven-thirty in the morning, albeit his eyes were still heavy with sleep. Jongdae grunts, rubbing the bridge of his nose where his glasses had dug in. He rolled off the couch and walked towards his room, yawning as he stumbled.

“Baek—“

“Shush, Dae-dae.” Minhyun whispers, puffing his cheeks as he angrily pouted, holding a small finger to his lips. “Daddy is asleep, we don’t wanna wake him up.”

“Sorry.” Jongdae scratched his nape sheepishly, embarrassed that the six-year-old was more authorative than he was. Minhyun was sat up on the bed directly next to his father, his legs crossed in an odd way. Baekhyun’s arm was still around his waist, but Minhyun was his hair and patting him on the back. Baekhyun was murmuring something in his sleep, a troubled look in his face. Jongdae gazed on sympathetically.

“You want some breakfast?” Jongdae whispers. “I have some toast.”

“Mhhmm.” Minhyun nods subtly, yawning. Jongdae returns a few minutes later with slightly burnt bread with butter, and usually Minhyun would complain about his lacking skills in even creating toast in his limited vocabulary, but he was surprisingly obedient and simply thanked him, solemnly munching on his breakfast.

They sat for a while, the silence only accompanied with Baekhyun’s mutters in his sleep, all of it incoherent and untranslatable in Jongdae’s head. Jongdae had always remembered Baekhyun like this; talking in his sleep, with jumbled words and phrases. They’ve went to the doctors about it and it was a factor from sleep deprivation and fatigue—but Baekhyun laughed it off grimly and went ahead doing his three jobs anyhow.

It wasn’t always like this. Jongdae remembers the times that Baekhyun was solely focused on his scholarship and studies—Baekhyun was gifted, certainly, and outsmarted others more in anything. Baekhyun was a skilled intellect, and Jongdae always lost at the games of chess they’ve played; then it sort of blurred, Baekhyun wasn’t seen in college anymore for times, then one day Baekhyun contacted him again, sounding much more frail and different, with a small child in his hands.

Jongdae averts his eyes unto Minhyun, who tactfully did not comment on the bread. Jongdae thinks Minhyun was far smarter than other children; he took after his father. His emotional capabilities were somewhat in question, too; he was able to understand, unlike other children his age. He’d grasped the concept of death at the age of four and had been continuously his father’s emotional support ever since Jongdae saw him.

He even looks solemn, now, with a sad look in his eyes, gazing at his father, as if he feels sorry for him. That wasn’t seen much in six-year-olds. Minhyun looked genuinely upset.

“Does it taste bad?” Jongdae said sympathetically. “It tastes bad, doesn’t it?”

“It tastes bad.” Minhyun parrots, and gave up on eating altogether. “And I’m sad.”

“Sad?”

“Because daddy works all day and he sleeps when he comes home, and I want to play with him, but he needs some sleep.” Minhyun mumbles. “And when daddy’s not asleep sometimes he cries.”

Minhyun says this all fluently, and he seems to stare into space a little. He puts the remainder of the toast on Jongdae’s desk and sits next to his father, looking onwards, and Jongdae feels a little saddened by this.

“I’m… going out to get some groceries, alright?” Jongdae got up and cleared his throat. “You stay with daddy.”

__

The next time Baekhyun opens his eyes is at nine in the morning, and he snapped his eyes open at the sound of harsh breathing. He scrambles up and sees Minhyun next to him, pale and peaky, taking short puffs of air.

“Oh god, Minhyun, what’s wrong?” Baekhyun got up, instantly feeling light-headed at the sudden movement. He scoops up Minhyun in his arms and the boy coughs, his skin tingled blue.

“My chest hurts.” Minhyun wept. Baekhyun immediately embraces him and kisses the top of his head, trying to comfort him. Baekhyun rocks him back and forth and sniffed.

“It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay.” Baekhyun murmurs. “Why didn’t you wake me up? Where’s Jongdae?”

“Dae-dae’s gone to get some groceries but I think he’s home now.” Minhyun mumbles. “And I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“But you should’ve—alright, never mind about that. Okay—big breaths now. One, two—“

Baekhyun inhales, and Minhyun mimics, though he couldn’t hold the air as long as normal children could. Though they’ve tried this a few more times and Minhyun’s pain eases. Baekhyun sits with his son in his arms for a few minutes, his hair, listening to the erratic murmur of Minhyun’s heart. Baekhyun kisses his head and his air.

“You’re going with Jongdae to the doctor’s again today, alright?” Baekhyun says quietly. “To the big hospital. So they can check up on you more. You’re gonna be good with Jongdae, alright?”

“Daddy.”

“Hm?”

“Remember you said that you’d get me a yellow digger?” Minhyun mumbles, curling up on his lap. “It’s okay now daddy. You don’t have to get me a yellow digger. I didn’t want a yellow digger. I just wanted to spend some time with daddy.”

“But Minhyun’s all you have—what if you lose him?”

“I wish I could, poppet.” Baekhyun swallows. “Someday we’ll get a nice house and I can buy you all the yellow diggers you want and I’ll play with you.”

Baekhyun pulled him apart and looked at him in his eyes.

“It’s just... not now, Minhyun.” He whispers, “do you understand?”

Minhyun didn’t say anything.

__

From ten o’clock to three in the afternoon, Baekhyun works at a small restaurant just a few blocks away from his flat. Then from four-thirty to seven, he spends his time checking stocks at a convenience store. Then from eleven in the evening to six in the morning next day, he sorts a variety of things in a warehouse. All of them had weird schedules as to what day Baekhyun works—but it was mostly every day.

Having said a brief goodbye to Jongdae shortly after he woke up, leaving details of Minhyun’s hospital appointment, he walks all the way to his workplace—it was a small restaurant in a dingy alley, whom hardly anyone visited apart from the occasional slum men or the beggars who finally had enough money to eat. Baekhyun quickly skipped to the gents’ and changed into his uniform—a checker shirt with an apron on, before he walks briskly towards the counter.

“Jes’ Christ, Baekhyun, if you’d shown up even a second later, I would’ve booted your arse out of this place.” Namjoon barks. He was a sort of puny-looking guy who you couldn't really tell his age, with eyes that often squinted. He wasn’t all particularly nasty, but he barked all the time and had a loud voice that always made Baekhyun jump.

“Sorry.”

“Nevermind that.” Namjoon says gruffly, scratching the back of his head before he disappear round the back towards the alley—probably for a smoke. Baekhyun watches after him grimly and shrugs, drumming his hand on the counter. To his side, on the other counter (why are here even two counters? Hardly anyone ever visits!) was—well, everybody called him Hobi, Baekhyun was unsure why, but he seems to be asleep every time Baekhyun casts an eye on him, drooling against the counter. The only reason why Namjoon cut him slack was because apparently Hobi was his nephew.

Hobi always sleeps—Baekhyun was unsure why (and he was particularly irked about it—he was supposed to be asleep instead of torturing himself to the bone, not this Hobi), but Baekhyun supposed everybody had their reasons why. And if he sleeps all the time, why bother going i