Taecyeon

I slipped out of the bed before dawn the next morning, thanks to the red-eye I'd flown coming home. I had been avoiding admitting it for the last three-four years, but I was getting tired for this crazy schedule. Not that I had anyone to blame but myself. I could have bid on a different line-I had enough seniority that I was likely get what I bid on most of the time. It had been somewhat of a challenge to myself, proving I could still run on fumes like I had in my early twenties. Nichkhun had given me a look when he'd seen my schedule but hadn't said anything about that particular flight. He had more issues with my schedule than just one flight.

I padded downstairs and filled the electric kettle and set it to boil while I ground my coffee beans. Which reminded me-I had a bag of blue mountain beans still packed in my luggage. I hand't picked it up in Jamaica, sadly. I try to remain within asia these days, but Portland was one of my favorite layovers. There was a city that knew its coffee. Also it's beer, but if I said that out loud to anyone in the Seoul area, I'd probably be pilloried.

The kettle hit boiling, and I turned it off to give it a minute to cool before adding it to the French press. That done, I set a timer on my phone, placed my mug and press it front of yesterday's newspaper on the table, and settled in. My morning routine always settled me, preparing my mind for whatever the day might bring, whether it was a restful day at home or a hestic day of flights.

The timer dinged, and I pressed the grounds to the bottom of the container and poured my first mug, taking a moment to relish the scent of the steam. There was somethin so much more satisfying about about hot drinks in autumn and winter than in spring and summer.

I read through the front page meticulously, flipping back and forth between pages to finish the articles. Everything alse i that section, I skimmed over. Next up was sports. As a born and bred Korean from Seoul, I was a Taeguk Warriors fan. I just hadn't been a heat fan, which is why we now lived away from Bedford, much to my parents' dismay. The Asian Tigers were having a slow start, two wins, two loses, but at least Sunday night's loss to the Manchester had been within a couple of points. I'd heard about it from my flight crew, but it was painful seeing the numbers so close in black and white.

I discarded the lifestyle, opinions and art section, skimming over politics and business and tech. Those were the topics that affected my line of business most of the time. Ah well, the world was falling apart as usual, but no faster than normal.

By the time I finished thee newspaper and my coffee, the sun was beginning to break over the horizon. I tossed the paper in the garbage, dumped the coffee grounds, and gave the press a hand wash, then into our bedroom, to grab my workout bag. Nichkhun was still hours from waking. I kissed his cheek before heading out "I'll be back, Sleeping Beauty."

The usual pre-work gym crowd was already filling in as I arrived. I stashed my street clothes in a locker and changed, nodding to familiar faces. As I closed my padlock, a large hand slapped my shoulder in greeting "Taecyeon-hyung! Haven't seen you in ages!"

I turned to recognize Chansung, a guy I'd formed a loose frienship with over the last couple of years "Well, that's not my fault. Where you been, man? You've been out for, what? A couple months?"

I shook his hand and he dropped his bag to the bench.

"Yeah, it's been crazy. But I'm a dad now!"

I blinked in surprise. I hadn't even realized Chansung and his partner were expecting. The correct response came without prompting "Congrats! How's Junho?"

"Oh, other than sleep-deprived, we're both great. He didn't actually give birth, we adopted."

"That's great." Was I supposed to say something differnt for an adoption versus a regular birth? I thought about how people would react to Nichkhun and I having a baby by  surrogate-about how I wanted them to react "What's the kid's name?"

"Jaebeom for his korean name and Jay for his western name. Want to see a picture?"

The last thing I wanted to do was lie about how good-looking someone's kid was, but that was not socially acceptable response "Sure."

Chansung swiped at his phone screen and turned it to face me. The kid was tiny, his face wrinkly and squished, like a pug's, and there was a slight cone shape to his head.