Looking back now, Namjoon wonders as he sits by the fire, looking through the family photo album, a fond smile coloring his plump lips, if it was real or just the fanciful imagination of two children desperately wanting the attention of their father who they loved more than life. Turning the page of the old book is like stepping through time, revisiting moments that Namjoon had long since filed away in the recesses of his mind. As his eyes fall on the picture of his childhood nanny, affectionately nicknamed Mr. Poppins, Namjoon is one hundred percent sure every single delightfully unrealistic memory indeed occurred.

“What’cha doing?” Jin asks, walking into the room.

“Nothing much. Just looking through this old photo album.” Jin slumps on the couch next to him.

“God, is that Mr. Poppins? Lord, he’s still the most striking man I’ve ever seen. Besides myself, of course.”

Namjoon laughs.

“Hyung, you remember, right?” Namjoon asks, starting slowly, needing the confirmation.

“What?” Jin asks, head bent over the album, studying the pictures with a happy smile on his face.

“Our childhood, when, uhm, the day Mr. Poppins, I mean Kim Taehyung-sshi, arrived. You remember, right? I didn’t just make this up in my head, right?” Namjoon’s being vague, and he knows it, but he’s too nervous to say the words he wants to say out loud.

“You mean like the time we walked right into a picture?” Jin says it so casually Namjoon does a double take.

“Y-you, remember?!”

“Mmm, I remember everything. The old man can try to pretend it didn’t happen as much as he wants to, but you and me, Joon, we know the truth. We’ll never forget how this all came to be.”

TWENTY YEARS PRIOR

It’s a windy day, perhaps the windiest the Jeon children have experienced in all their years on earth, six and eight respectively. Namjoon, although the youngest, is what his father likes to call an old soul. Namjoon’s not sure what it means, but his dad smiles fondly when he says it, so it's Namjoon’s favorite thing to hear. The little boy is wiser than his years and often views the world like a philosopher rather than a child of six.

“Appa, Appa,” the youngster’s voice trembles as he calls to his father.

“It’s okay, Joonie,” his father’s voice says comfortingly. “It’s just wind. We’ll be home soon. Just hold Appa’s hand tightly.”

“Yeah, don’t be a scaredy cat, Joonie-ah, or the wind will take you away up into the sky, and you’ll be gone forever,” his older brother and sometimes nemesis, Seokjin, teases.

“Jin-ah, it’s not nice to make someone more frightened when they’re already scared,” their father reprimands.

Namjoon sticks his tongue out at his older brother. It’s a tiny victory, one his father would probably not approve of.

“I’m tel-” Jin’s swallows the rest of his words, as it seems something behind Namjoon has caught his brother’s attention enough to cut short the joys of payback.

Namjoon turns his head slowly, following the trajectory of Jin’s gaze. He blinks, not sure what he’s seeing. It first seems like a wayward balloon, lost in the heavy gusts, but the object floats with purpose and far too steadily to be a loose balloon. As it draws closer, a slight gasp escapes Namjoon’s tiny lips. His head whips quickly in the direction of his older brother.

Jin’s eyes are wide and filled with just as much shock as his own when they meet Namjoon’s.

Floating toward them is not a balloon at all, but an umbrella, brightly colored with alternating triangles of purple and yellow, with a black handle with what looks like a golden bird’s head at the tip. Namjoon’s not one hundred percent sure about the bird part as it’s being covered by a hand.

“Appa, Appa!” Jin and Namjoon cry out in unison, startling their father who almost trips over his feet.

“Good heavens, children, don’t yell. You’re not farm animals,” a voice comes from behind the trio. “Are you okay, Jungkook-sshi?”

The man is tall and thin, with dark brown hair. He reminds Namjoon of an anime character or fairytale prince, which seems fitting to the youngster seeing as how the man literally fell, well, floated, from the sky.

“I-I’m fine,” Namjoon’s father stutters. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Well, of course not, but that can easily be fixed now, can’t it? But let’s do it inside, out of this wind. It’s dreadful,” the man responds, pushing the gate open.

“But, but Appa, he came from the sky,” Jin says as they walk through the gate leading past the garden to their front door.

“Jin, shush,” his father scolds.

Namjoon decides to stay quiet.

Jungkook’s not sure how it happens, but the stranger manages to enter his house before either he or his children. Jungkook closes the front door after helping Namjoon with his shoes, then walks into the family room to find the tall stranger, who looks like he has just stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine, examining his living room, white glove on and a finger gingerly tracing along the shelf above his fireplace.

“Well, from the looks of things, it seems I’ve arrived just in time, wouldn’t you say?” the tall, illogically good looking man asks him, snapping the glove off his hand and turning to face him.

A smile so dazzling sits on the man’s face, that for a brief moment, Jungkook is rendered speechless by its brilliance. Realizing that he needs to be more concerned with the stranger's presence than the boxy shape of his smile, Jungkook quickly regains his composure.

“I’m sorry, arrived? What, here, uhm, in my house?” It occurs to him he sounds like a scratched record, but he’s genuinely befuddled by the entire circumstance unraveling before his eyes.

“Why yes, of course, Jungkook-sshi. Where else would I mean?” the man answers almost incredulously.

Jungkook’s at a loss for words. Looking down, he finds two sets of eyes staring back up at him, equally as confused as he feels.

“Appa, who is he?”  Jin whispers much too loudly, and Jungkook can feel the tips of his ears heating up.

“Shhh,” he shushes his son, a finger on his lip.

“Well, his question is not an unreasonable one, now is it?” the stranger asks, and Jungkook nods in agreement.

He.

Nods.

Why is he agreeing with a stranger?

“Good, I’m happy we agree. For starters, my name is Taehyung, Kim Taehyung, to be exact. But, since I’m older than you by, by, well, a gentleman never reveals his age, you can call me hyung, or Mr. Poppins if you’d like. It’s a nickname of sorts,” Taehyung informs him.

“M-M-Mr. Poppins?” Jungkook squeaks out.

“Mmm, rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it? Now that introductions are out of the way, the only thing left is the small matter of my fees,” Taehyung tells Jungkook with a smile and a tilt of his head.

“Fees?” Jungkook’s head is spinning.

In fact, if truth be told, his entire world feels as though it is spinning wildly out of control and has been from the first moment Kim Taehyung smiled his breath-taking smile and announced his presence in Jungkook’s peaceful little world.

“Why yes, fees. You didn’t think I’d be doing this for free, did you?” Taehyung questions, somewhat bemused.

“Of course not,” Jungkook starts then realizes he has not hired the man for any services. Hell, he doesn’t even know Kim Taehyung. “I’m sorry, exactly what would you be doing, here, in my house—err, with us?”

For all Jungkook knows, Kim Taehyung is a crazy person who has escaped a mental facility. It really is the only explanation he can think of for the way the man has asserted himself in Jungkook’s life as though he belongs there. But what’s stranger, the strangest, actually, is how Jungkook finds himself almost helplessly going along with it.

“Being your manny, of course. Children need supervision and guidance, Jungkook. And you, yourself said, and I quote, ‘I just need a little help, so I can find my center.’” The man repeats a phrase Jungkook had said to himself in the privacy of his study the night before, when he was feeling overwhelmed. “Voila, here I am to help you get centered. You’re welcome. We can discuss my fees in the morning. It’s late, and the children really should bathe and get some sleep, don’t you agree? I’ll take the spare bedroom next to theirs. Alright, boys, up the stairs you go.” Kim Taehyung ushers the two youngsters in the direction of the stairs with a swipe of his arm.

Jungkook watches in utter bewilderment, unable to move or stop what’s going on in any way, as Kim Taehyung leans down and picks up a bag from the ground, one Jungkook is sure the man did not enter with. The purple and yellow umbrella is safely under the manny’s arm as he trots up the stairs behind Jungkook’s two perplexed children.

What’s most concerning about the entire event is the fact that Jungkook has not once felt a moment of worry about his or his children’s safety, and he’s not sure if that’s good or bad.

He needs a drink.

“I have a manny,” Jungkook states the moment Jimin answers the phone, not bothering to give the man a chance to greet him.

“The way phone conversations work, Jungkook, is that I answer and say hello, and you say hello back. We ask about each other’s day, and then we dive into the conversation. It’s all very civil, very cordial,” Jimin says sweetly, passive-aggressively.

“Aww, that sounds lovely, hyung. One day we should try that. But in case you missed it, I have a manny,” Jungkook repeats, a bit louder for emphasis.

“Wait, what, why? Why do you have a manny? When did you even have time to interview?” Jimin questions, and finally Jungkook gets the response he is looking for.

“I didn’t, he just showed up, told me he was my manny, ushered Joon and Jin upstairs, and told me he would be staying in the guestroom,” Jungkook summarizes the events of the evening to his friend.

“What? And you just let him?”

“Yeah, yes, I’m not sure why. I just couldn’t make myself say no. I’m not even gonna lie, hyung, a part of me is relieved. I’m so overwhelmed. I feel like I’m drowning. Mina died and left me a company, an entire company, hyung. I went to school for photography and film. I'm not CEO material. I'm scared I’m going to d