That’s good.

He can’t help but smiling at the praise. He’s been hearing it a lot, ever since he was a teenager, but it still brings the same pride and happiness every time.

You’re doing well. Very well.

Yes, he’s been trying to. It’s not easy, given the circumstances of him as…his–busy–self but he’d done his best and in all honesty, he’s been waiting to hear it.

So pretty, you have the talent in you!

Yeah? He really wish for that. All his life, people had been praising for his hardwork. But talent…

No, not your own shirt! Just – Oops!

His shirt? His Gucci shirt? What about that?

Oh my God, Seunghyun will kill me…

Of course not! He won’t kill anyone, let alone kill Jiyong! How come he doesn’t trust him? Was that a joke?

What are we going to tell your parents about it?

What?

No, no, Daesung will kill me too!

Seriously, what? Daesung too? What is this about?

Shhhh…Let’s not wake him up until we’re done, okay?

Huh?

 

Suddenly it’s wet. His stomach, his chest and his neck and his –

 

He wakes up abruptly, trying to keep his eyes open as light attacking his vision and strong smell storming into his nose; a very very unpleasant scent. Slowly, he is coming into his sense and able to make out the scene in front of him.

Or rather, on top of him, since the attacker is sitting on his thighs, wearing a guilty smile and holding a brush. A paint brush.

“Samchon,” the attacker greets, titling his head a little to the side, which most likely to be his most dangerous weapon although the attacker himself is oblivious to it. “You wake, I’m sorry.”

His reply stops dead in his throat when he catches a color yellow on his shirt, on his supposed to be black Gucci shirt that he bought last week; that is one of the rarest fashion item of the year.

“He wasn’t careful.”

He finally sees the man whose voice he’s been listening to –wait, was that a dream?

“We were decorating a little and he…” Jiyong shrugs. “…splashed.”

“I’m sorry, Samchon,” the attacker, Ken, finally jumps off of his thighs and runs to hide behind Jiyong.

Now that he can fully see his own clothes, nothing seems like what he had put in this morning. His shirt is yellow, ungracefully wet with paint, his jeans, his ripped jeans, are having strips of blue and there are drawings of flowers everywhere…on him.

His beautiful milky skin.

“He accidentally spilled it on his shirt too,” Jiyong sighs and shakes his head. “Seunghyun will kill me.”

He lifts his head in slow motion to look at his friend right in the eyes. “This Seunghyun will surely do.”

And he, Lee Seungri, barks a laugh of terrible Santa Claus as Jiyong and Ken hurriedly scramble few steps back in utter horror.

***

“Here,” Ken insists, pushing his jacket on Seungri’s hands. “Cold.”

“Thank you,” the older man his hair softly. He smiles and makes a show of draping the jacket around his body, so the frown on the toddler’s face would turn into a smile. “How about you?”

“I’m warm,” Ken wraps his arms around Seungri’s neck as they watch Jiyong fumbles through his, well, wardrobe to find something for compensation of ruining a Gucci shirt and jeans. He had selfishly picked Jiyong’s favorite pants for exchange so he will let Jiyong decides on what shirt he’ll give for him. “Appa said I’m warm.”

“Well, you are.”

“Thank you, Seungri–samchon.”

It’s hard to be around Ken and not thinking about how his life would be with a kid –or even kids –of his own someday. Probably the magic lays on the baby powder, that smells so soft, or maybe the questions why and curious eyes as they pester over him, or even maybe the struggle to find shoes that will fit those tiny feet; but there must be something about children that makes him feel so bashfully in joy every time he sees them.

“Where is Jiyong–samchon going?” Ken hops down from Seungri’s lap but before he manages to follow Jiyong out of the bedroom, Seungri catches him.

“To look in his another wardrobe,” Seungri chuckles. “He has a lot of clothes.”

“How many?”

“So many,” Seungri snickers. “Let’s just wait until he find me a good one.”

“Seunghyun–appa has many too,” Ken climbs up on the bed to sit next to him. “Daesung–appa has shoes.”

“Not clothes?”

Ken looks thoughtful for a moment before shaking his head. “Many shoes.”

“How about you?”

“I have kangaroos!” the toddler holds out his fingers in a V sign. “Two.”

“You like kangaroos so much, don’t you?”

Ken nods without missing a beat. “I want kangaroo pet.”

Seungri laughs at the mental image in his head of Daesung’s expression if he finds a certain mammal jumping ups and downs and around his Lego collection. “It could be dangerous.”

“Seunghyun–appa said later,” Ken sighs, poking on his own shirt button. Seungri isn’t sure if kids are just hard to stay still like that or it’s something Ken picks up from Daesung. His hyung seems to have trouble on staying still without rolling anything in between his fingers or checking his hands or even picking on threads of his jeans.

“How about Daesung–appa?”

“No, no, no,” Ken makes an attempt to impersonate Daesung’s reaction and both of them laugh at it. “I can see in the zoo.”

“I can take you there, do you want?”

“Really, samchon?”

“Yes,” Seungri smiles. “Let’s ask your appa about it.”

“Okay!” Ken squeals in delight as he hugs the older man. “I want to see kangaroo!”

“There are some of them there.”

“I know! I went with appa before!”

“Oh, really?”

“Daesung–appa!”

“Just the two of you?”

“Yes, yes!”

“How about just the two of us next time?”

“With Seungri–samchon?”

“Yes, with me. Let’s go?”

“Let’s go!”

Their conversation is cut off by a crashing sound and a loud shriek coming from the next room, the one where Jiyong is in.

***

“Surely I agreed about helping you on watching Ken while the hyungs are working,” Seungri rolls his eyes, still grumpy for receiving only a PeaceMinusOne tie-dye shirt for exchange of his ruined Gucci. “I don’t remember agreeing on taking care of you too, hyung.”

Jiyong hits him on the arm. “It was because I was trying to find you something to wear!”

“It’s because you ruined my clothes, hyung.”

“Technically, it wasn’t me, Seungri.”

“It must be your idea.”

“Well, not really? Ken was bored, I did what I could.”

“…Like suggesting to draw on me?”

“It’s supposed to be just on your shirt.”

“It was all over my arms too, my dear hyung,” Seungri lets out a groan at the ridiculous excuse Jiyong held up to him. “It’s still on my nails.”

“It looks good on you,” Jiyong says cheerfully, definitely trying to win with a nice comments. “I’m thinking about making it a concept –”

“No, you won’t,” Seungri hisses immediately, causing Jiyong to laugh. “That kind of concept suits you, hyung, and not the rest of us.”

“Oh, I bet Youngbae will like it.”

“Daesung–hyung and I will never.”

“Seunghyun –hyung will be on my side so it’s three versus two, Seungri.”

“Not if you count the rest of our staffs.”

Jiyong rolls his eyes. “Are we seriously going to make this a war?”

“For a nail polish concept? Or even worse, a body painting concept? Yes, hyung, definitely.”

“Oh, come on,” Jiyong shrugs, watching the band–aid covering his thumb. Thanks to the small snow globe he didn’t know he had inside his wardrobe, that fell while he was busy looking for something good for Seungri to wear. “It won’t be the first time.”

“Can’t we just have one amazing concept but without nail polish please?”

“Fine,” Jiyong clicks his tongue. “Then let it be war. Deal?”

Seungri sneers. “Play fair.”

“I will. And we will ask the rest of the team.”

“Loud and clear.”

“Yes, Sir,” Jiyong cracks up. “Any question?”

“Yes!”

Both of them turn around at the same time at the voice. Ken is wearing a weary expression and his brows furrow in confusion.

“Yes, Ken?” Seungri is the first to recover from the silence. “What’s wrong?”

The boy doesn’t answer, just biting his lower lip in hesitation.

“Come here,” Jiyong reaches out his hand and Ken takes it softly, letting himself be drawn into Jiyong’s arms. “What is it?”

His eyes trails over from Seungri to Jiyong in a super slow movement. “Are you fighting?”

“No,” Seungri bursts into laughter and Jiyong kicks his leg but him too, can’t resist to grin wide. “We were…playing.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Jiyong Ken’s back and the boy relaxes under his touch. “Your appa must do that too all the time, they love bickering, don’t they?”

To both Seungri and Jiyong surprise, instead of happily chatter about his dads, Ken’s mouth starts to quiver. He chokes out a sob and Jiyong lets out a soft uh-oh as if Seungri doesn’t know what’s coming.

“I miss appa…”

The toddler explodes into tears and Jiyong wraps his arms tighter around the baby while Seungri scurries off to get his phone.

***

A half–box of tissue, phone calls to each Seunghyun and Daesung, poorly prepared lunch, and fifteen minutes to Frozen movie later, Seungri finds himself laying on the carpet, getting too comfortable being sandwiched by Jiyong on his left and Ken on his right. The toddler is snoring, exhausted from crying and talking with his parents for about two hours long. Seungri reaches for the remote, pressing Stop, sure that he’s the only one awake until Jiyong mumbles softly.

“I didn’t mean to make him cry.”

“You didn’t,” Seungri watches the screen goes blank and finally turns the TV off.

“You blamed yourself too,” Jiyong sighs heavily, resting his hand on top of Seungri’s. “Don’t tell me it’s not right.”

Seungri smiles at him. “A little.”

“We shouldn’t mention about his appa.”

“Yeah,” Seungri chuckles. “We shouldn’t bicker in the first place.”

“It must be hard for them too.”

“Them?”

“Seunghyun. I think he cried while talking to Ken on the phone. Didn’t you hear him sniffle when he said thanks to us?”

“And judging by Daesung–hyung’s unusual short goodbye when he hung up, I guess he was trying his best not to sail his way here.”

Jiyong grins. “Or swim.”

“Or swim,” Seungri giggles. “It must be hard to be a dad.”

“I think so,” Jiyong adds. “If it was me, I would definitely swim my way back home.”

“I wouldn’t even leave in the first place.”

“You?” Jiyong rolls his eyes. “You practically lives on a plane, Seungri.”

“Not if I have kids,” Seungri sticks out his tongue in mock attempt. “It will be torture to be away from them.”

Jiyong hums in agreement and they stares at the ceiling, listening to their own breathing.

“Maybe one day,” Seungri closes his eyes. Ken snuggles closer onto his side. Maybe the magic of children lays in their ability to make you feel needed, make you feel loved. Maybe there’s no magic at all, just the feeling of coming home, knowing that you’re special for someone just as much as they’re special to you.

“One day,” Jiyong squeezes his hand and closes his eyes too. “Anyway, we must ask him.”

“Who?”

“Ken.”

“He is sleeping.”

“Later, Seungri.”

“All right.”

“Hmm.”

“…About what, hyung?”

“The nail polish concept.”

Seungri groans in annoyance and before he opens his mouth to speak, Jiyong slaps his arm.

“And about the body painting too. I think he will definitely on my side.”

“No way, hyung!”