Junmyeon does as well as he possibly can in planning how he should break the news to his parents, but more specifically, to his mother. He sets the lunch date for a Thursday (the days her soap opera doesn’t run) the Sunday prior, giving her more than enough of a heads-up to do any unnecessary shopping—she was finicky about her appearance when it came to occasions such as these. He chooses her favorite restaurant, which she’s ecstatic to hear.

“I haven’t had a taste of Bello Luigi’s risotto and tiramisu in ages ! If only my other children took care of me as much as you do, Junmyeon-dear.”

When she finally snaps out of her blissful fanfaronade the night before, however, and gathers up enough sense to at least be slightly skeptic of her eldest’s sudden, albeit still greatly appreciated, lunch date, his reply is simple (and well-rehearsed) before he bid her farewell after wishing her a goodnight over the phone.

“I have good news, Ma, just wait for it,” is all she gets to hold over her until the next day arrives, bringing with it the appearance of her handsome, not-so-little-anymore-son (bearing gifts!) and not to be forgotten, her creamy, steaming, mouth-watering risotto. Bello Luigi’s was the right choice, Junmyeon thinks as the waiter sits them at a table in the center.

“Good thing you made a reservation, Junmyeon. It’d be absolutely awful to have to drive all this way into the city just to be turned away at the door because you didn’t think the most popular Italian restaurant around would be busy at high noon on a weekday.”

Junmyeon can only smile sheepishly at his father who ignores the blatant jab by flipping open to the menu and focusing all his attention on the desserts page. He makes a remark about wanting to try the panna cotta, and Junmyeon tells him he should and that he would probably like it because Jongdae’s had it before, and he said that he loved it. Everyone knows that his best friend and his father share the exact same tastes; how they came about that bizarre discovery, Junmyeon’s far too old to remember, but it’s an longtime Easter egg that been known and acknowledged for years now.

“Jongdae? You’re still friends with that boy?” his mother asks, her not-so-slick, indirect way of demanding that the attention be placed back on her because she, just like everyone else, knew that The Junmyeon and Jongdae Show —running over two decades strong—would never reach a cancellation.

His mother was both a kiwi and a strawberry, Junmyeon thinks as she requests her special lemonade order. Exotic and sweet. Sometimes sour. With her colorful drink next to his father’s simple glass of H2O, it was a wonder how these two could ever click together. Sometimes, Junmyeon felt that his parents didn’t ‘click’ together, but rather, coexisted peacefully side-by-side, like two small components out of a thousand-piece puzzle that just so happened to ‘fit’. His father was the cornerstone—by large, he framed the idea and laid the foundation—however, his mother, on the other hand, opened up an opportunity for connections. She maintained the network.

They were a dynamic duo when push came to shove, which is exactly why Junmyeon hadn’t went off and eloped already. Marriage was seen as something special in his eyes, a starry philosophy that was all thanks to his wonderful parents, so of course, naturally, he would want them to be apart of that. Even if there was a bit of resistance.

“Junmyeon? You okay? Is the fettuccine bad? Making you bloated?”

Junmyeon meets his mother’s eyes and for a moment, it’s just them.

“Ma, I need to tell you something.” Yeah, Pa can know, too, but this is something I want you to hear.

In their unwavering gaze, Junmyeon knows his mother can hear his thoughts loud and clearly. She sets down her silverware and pinches the napkin to her cheeks. “Hiro-dear, Junmyeon needs to tell us something.”

His dad hums knowingly, but doesn’t raise his head from his bowl. Before his mother can admonish him for slurping his stew so... distractingly , Junmyeon clears his throat.

“I, uh... would like to share some great news with you guys.” Junmyeon knows his mother’s brows are only as high as his voice is right now, but he can’t help it. He gets like this when he’s nervous. He was like this when he accidentally outed himself to his parents just a few days after his twenty-first birthday.

He was showing them the pictures on his phone of him and his (other legal-aged) friends getting drinks at the bar when his mother commented, “What is that man wearing?”—and after a beat—“Was this a gay bar you were at, Junmyeon?”

He remembers his father choking on his cup of coffee and his mother’s non-stop blinking. It was almost as if she had been trying to forget what she’d just seen, said, and realized, and although Junmyeon wished that was one of the amazing feats his mother was actually capable of, regretting the decision to set the record straight and come out to them that night wasn’t something he ever felt. Junmyeon, knowing how rare it really was in the world to have the great parents that he did, knew that he was lucky. And to have two great parents who weren’t just tolerant or understanding of having a gay of son, but supportive of him, as well, was just a miracle. That being said... coming out was far more easier than what Junmyeon had on his chest now.

His mother must have sensed that—she usually does, she has a way with these kinds of matters—and she lays her arm across the table. Junmyeon places his hand in her’s, and she squeezes.

“We’re here for you, Junmyeon, you know that. Now, what is it?” Her tone is perfectly neutral, and Junmyeon silently thanks her for being able to hide her fears, concerns, and judgment well. His father nods and sits up straight. Having this man’s full, undivided attention was a rarity; though he wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse in the moment.

“I’m...” Junmyeon trails off, unsure of how to continue, but presses on when his mother caresses his palm with her thumb—just like she used to do when he was a kid, and just like she had done when Junmyeon couldn’t stop crying after he had finally told them the truth all those years ago. Nothing had changed between them then, and nothing would change between them now. Junmyeon chooses to believe that. “I’m engaged. The wedding’s in four months.”

The hitch in his mother’s breath s the guilt he had been trying so hard to bury down deep right up to the surface, and her scandalized expression only makes him feel worse. Fortunately, his father wasn’t one for theatrics, and his reaction is limited to him angling his face down as if Junmyeon’s fiancé was Medusa and sitting right across from him. Close, but not quite.

Junmyeon is the one to squeeze her hand this time because if she was going to lose it at this point, then he might as well hurry up and finish dumping the bucket.

“To a demon,” Junmyeon adds, quickly. “I’m getting married to a demon. His name is Chanyeol.”

There’s a horrendous scream in Bello Luigi’s that Thursday afternoon followed by a string of curse words (which, sewn together, doesn’t quite make sense), and a bunch of incoherent, frustrated growling when the lot of them are asked to leave.

Junmyeon’s relieved that he planned ahead and opted for riding separately lest he would have had to suffer dealing with damage control for a good half-an-hour more. He’ll just let them simmer back down for a while before he approaches them again. It’s a good thing that he’s the patient type that doesn’t mind a long wait.

He knows that when they’ve finished cooling off, that they’ll be the ones to contact him, never ones to sit and wait for questions to be answered. They sought those themselves, and during a  phone call that comes during a cuddle session with his fiancé, Junmyeon hears exactly what he expects to.

“We would like to meet him, your fiancé, the demon.”

Junmyeon smiles at the mention of the word. “Chanyeol, my fiancé’s name.”

Chanyeol giggles into his chest, partially tuned into the conversation projected by Junmyeon’s phone on speaker, partially occupied by a colorful brick swiping game on his phone.

“Chanyeol— whatever . We would like to meet him as soon as possible. We want to meet the foul creature that’s tarnished and corrupted our poor, innocent little baby! ”

Junmyeon laughs. “I was never innocent, Ma, but alright. I’ll have to ask him about his schedule and get back to you sometime during the week. Have a goodnight, Bye-Bye!”

“Your Mom sounds funny. I feel like we’re gonna get along great.”

“I think you will, too,” Junmyeon says, kissing the top of his demon fiancé’s demon head and wrapping his arms around his demon fiancé’s demon body. He closes his eyes and tries to chase after those fleeting bits of happiness his parents had scared away.