Three

“Look I bought a house, my boy has a key.  I just need you to check on him once in a while,” Chanyeol asks on the phone as he heads in for a flight. “He’ll be coming over every afternoon for his studies.  But if it’s too cold or there’s too much snow, tell him to call his mother and make him stay in his room.”

“You’re insane,” Yifan says shortly before the call ends and Chanyeol knows that the giant has agreed.

Just two weeks.  I’ll be back in two weeks.  Chanyeol takes in a deep breath before exhaling.  He’s already told Sehun everything he needs, multiple times over too.  He’ll be back, and Sehun will be there in his new home waiting for him.

Two weeks.  Just two.

 

---

 

“Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do?” Yoona asks with a frown, her hands hug the cup on the table. “I know some people overseas.  I can ask for their help. Just give me a picture.”

Chanyeol’s hands instantly flies to his wallet where the only picture of Baekhyun lives.  The photocard is worn down, crinkled, and fading in color. But he remembers the moment they took it so well.  Summer while they were taking a drive in his car, forgetting the world they had been trapped in.

“I’ve only have one left,” Chanyeol admits, the fire that burned the rest lingering in his mind. “I can’t lose this one too.”

“I’ll take a picture of it with my phone,” the younger girl offers, pulling out her phone. “You can even just leave it in your wallet pocket.”

“Alright, alright,” Chanyeol agrees softly, pulling out his wallet. “But any word of him, you call me no matter the time, got it?"

“Of course!”

 

---

 

Sehun is waiting for him when Chanyeol arrives back home.  It’s eerie enough for the man to stop in his movements from getting out of the cab.

The child has a mug in both hands, steam rising and Chanyeol doesn’t doubt that it’s some kind of tea.  He wears the new clothes Chanyeol had gotten him, yet stands barefooted on the porch. The khaki slacks, tucked in long sleeve button-up, the navy blue sweater vest…

It’s similar to what the children servants wear back at home.

“Mister Park Sir!” Sehun calls out in joy, holding up the steaming mug. “I’ve made you tea!”

Before Chanyeol can stop the seven year old, the boy comes stepping down into the snow to hand the businessman the mug.  The cab driver lets the boy drag in the suitcases and he’s halfway back up the porch stairs before Chanyeol is able to collect his mind back in order.

“Don’t walk in the snow without shoes, Boy,” Chanyeol reprimands, grabbing the suitcase up the stairs with his other hand to help the child. “It’ll ruin your feet.”

“Yessir,” the boy obediently answers, tongue stuck out as he continues to yank the suitcase indoors.

Sehun leaves the case by the shoe compartments and shuts the door; oblivious to Chanyeol’s odd state.  The man hums when taking a sip of his tea, sniffing. It’s suddenly nostalogic. Everything.

Had two weeks been too much?  The tea tastes better, fragrant and sweet - closer to what he remembers having in his student days on late nights.  They would be in mugs as well, snuck in with snacks by pretty hands and bright eyes.

The house smells of food, much like home - warmingly welcoming even if his parents had been around.  It’s hearty and painstaking and Chanyeol begins to feel sick as emotions wash over him.

“There’s pork kimchi mixed rice,” the child tells Chanyeol happily, pulling the man to the dining table. “Luhannie really likes it, so I thought that you would too!”

 

---

 

“I see you’ve officially adopted the newsboy,” Yifan muses as Luhan darts off to tackle Sehun into a tight hug. “I thought you were joking when you said that he had his own room in your house.”

“It had been a guest room,” Chanyeol justifies as he shuts the door. “But the boy’s been stuck here so often due to the snow, he’s practically moved in.”

“And what did his mother have to say about this?” Junmyeon questions with an eyebrow raised.

“Nothing,” Yifan deadpans and his husband rolls his eyes when Chanyeol huffs out a laugh. “Where we come from, adopting kids off of the streets to serve in our houses is a blessing to them.”

“They give kids away as birthday presents, wedding gifts, newborn gifts,” Chanyeol lists with a twisted up face. “It’s the norm.  Sehun’s mother might be even relieved that he has someone to provide for him - that Sehun’s assured safety from death on the streets.”

“That’s…” Junmyeon begins but trails off with too many emotions to comprehend.

“Don’t worry about it,” Yifan assures the smaller with a kiss on the white hair. “If the boy’s mother didn’t like it, he wouldn’t be here.”

Chanyeol can tell that Junmyeon doesn’t like it.  He can’t blame the man. He doesn’t like how life is either.

 

---

 

By the time the trees have regained their colors and begin to lose them again, flowers have fully bloomed, and heat has more than settled in, Sehun is known as the ‘Park boy’.  He’s eight, taller, stronger, still fast on his feet, and still sells newspapers in the morning and always saving one for Chanyeol.

He walks Luhan to and from school, only now he serves one man and one man only.  He stays overnights on Fridays to Sundays when his mother works, and walks home every weekday before coming back to serve right before lunch.

He would run errands, either for the Wu family once in a while and for Chanyeol himself.  And one of them would be running to the post office to get the mail before the mailman can get to their house.

“You’re putting the poor man out of business,” Chanyeol says as Sehun comes into his office with a stack of mail above his head.

“He hates cats,” Sehun stresses as he hands over the mail with both hands. “It’s a crime and I don’t want someone like him on your property.”

Chanyeol yanks on the boy’s ear playfully, chastising, “Anymore from you and you can forget getting sushi for dinner.”

The boy whines, plopping himself down into the chair across the desk.  With crossed arms and a pout, the child mutters, “This is unfair treatment.”

The man snorts as he goes through his letters, wondering if he should cut off play time between Sehun and Luhan down to only five hours per day.  The now five year old is rubbing off on Sehun a little too much for Chanyeol’s liking - and Yifan seems a little too smug about the situation.

In the middle of the stack is a white one, handwriting a rush and dried spots on the front.  But Chanyeol can recognize the handwriting out of hundreds. After all, it’s the handwriting he grew up knowing.

His heart pounds as he rips open the letter.  And it stops when he reads the content, sheet of paper falling onto the floor.

Yoona… What have you done?