(Babe, will you ever get tired of me always leaving you?

Hm? I only do it because I’m sure you’re not flirting with some handsome, young, penniless set designer who has a ton of student loans promising you a ranch house overlooking Hollywood Hills.

You’re sure? I’ll have you know there are plenty of those always on-hand. You think I can’t get a handsome young stud to…hammer in a few nails?

…That is such a terrible joke. You could have used ‘screw’ and it would have actually been funny.

THAT IS SO LEWD.

Newsflash: you are married. You’re not a nun.

Why did you marry me? Some starry-eyed actress upstart who was never even interested in starting a family? You weren’t afraid of me leaving?

No. I knew that even if you left me, you’d always come back.

…Except if that handsome young set designer proposed to me in a ranch house that he built with his own two hands.

Yeah except for that, maybe. If you do, then I’ll have your permission to go marry that hot young patisserie owner near UCLA selling the super good cheese balls and the peach galettes.

And Andy?

Maybe we can sell him to that hippie couple three houses down. We can visit him once a year. Or not. Maybe he’ll grow up to be a cult leader.

Sounds like a plan.)

--

There’s a children’s playground not far from the Shin house. It’s several blocks and a corner down, nearly at the perimeter of the village, and it’s there that Eric seeks refuge. For the time being, it’s deserted, leaving assorted playground equipment heavy and glinting under the cold bronze sunlight. Eric stumbles into the area with clumsy feet and nearly falls to his knees as soon as his shoes sink into the wood chip flooring.

(In the moments before the doctor tells him what he can already feel deep in the secret corners of his heart, he thinks back in desperation to the last phone call he and Yumi had: Did I tell her? Did I tell her I love her? Does she know?)

The merry-go-round is the nearest surface he can sit on. The cold from the steel slices through the thin material of his chinos and shocks him enough to take a gasping breath, letting crisp air flood his burning lungs. His mind is running at a thousand thoughts per minute, the memories of that day coming back to him in staccato bursts. He buries his face in his hands.

(There are reporters everywhere, cameras and flashes surrounding the hospital as far as the eye can see. Eric is thankful he didn’t bring Andy. They’ve closed off the ER to the press, and for the moment they’re all confined to one section where the air smells of ash and blood. Nothing seems real.

I need to see her. I need to see my wife, please. Now, I need to see her NOW.

He has so many things to say to her. They have too many dreams to fulfill. There is still too long a road that they have to walk down on.

Sir, please sit down, we are trying our best—

Their son is only six years old. What does he tell their son?)

A crow caws in the distance. Eric rubs at his burning eyes.

(The fire buildup was too intense. Several of the cars had exploded. The firefighters and the paramedics were nearly overpowered themselves. Mr. Mun, I am so sorry…

There is barely any recognizable body. He can only really identify their wedding ring that she always wore around her neck: a plain solid band in 18-carat gold with a crescent moon design engraved onto the inner surface. Eric can barely look at anything else.

That…is not my wife, he says, although his throat feels like it’s closing up and his chest is hollow like a grave.

Mr. Mun. You need to be sure.

Eric vomits on his shoes before he can make it out of the morgue.)

He can feel it again, the void, the way it crushes against the walls of his heart as though it still yearns to be in time with someone else’s. His hands grip the sides of the merry-go-around as he waits for the pain to pass, as it always does. The metal gives and squeals in his hold.

(He is on his knees for the last time in front of her, palms open on his lap in supplication.

Please come back. I’ll do anything. I can’t…Yumi, I can’t do this without you. Don’t leave me. Not like this.)

Eight years of marriage felt like a lifetime, and yet, also a second. He would do anything to experience it all over again if he could. He would wipe every tear, would repeat every argument, would accept every door that was slammed in his face.

(The silence that he receives in reply is the most heartbreaking of all.)

--

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, but eventually the sun sets and night falls like velvet around him. The temperature drops, but Eric keeps to his spot, barely moving in the darkness, content to be deafened by the cacophony of cicadas from the surrounding trees. His breathing has evened out, but he feels like his lungs are made of lead. He can feel all 36 of his years in every movement he makes: the age, exhaustion, and the constant temptation to just throw in the towel altogether. In the past 6 months he’s rarely allowed himself to dwell deeply over Yumi, and now he remembers why: it never ends well for him.

Something vibrates against his chest, interrupting his thoughts: his phone has been ringing silently in his jacket pocket and it isn’t until it presses against him under his arm that he notices. Eric fishes it out with numbing fingers.

“Hello?” he says. He has to clear his throat to speak.

“Where are you?!” Minwoo screeches at him so loudly and so suddenly that Eric has to pull his phone away. “Where the heck did you go! Why the hell did you leave?!”

“I…” Eric struggles to piece his thoughts together. Minwoo sounds so angry, but at the moment he can’t really be bothered to try to appease him. He’ll apologize tomorrow.

“I just needed some fresh air,” he finishes. “That’s all.”

It’s a lame excuse but it’s better than recounting how Hyesung had driven him to an unexpected panic attack. Minwoo, however, doesn’t seem to be in a forgiving mood.

“Fresh air? Have you left UN Village?”

“No, I’m just a few blocks away from the house.”

“And you didn’t tell us?! Eric, your son is freaking the out right now because you’re not here and he’s been looking for you and he thinks you’ve left him! Get your back here now.”

Minwoo’s words cut through the languid bubble Eric has built around himself in his grief and self-pity, pouring reality over him like ice water.

. Andy. He forgot.

“. I’ll be right there.” Eric says and quickly hangs up, guilt and adrenaline suddenly rushing hot through his veins, flushing the exhaustion and anxiety out of his system. He berates himself as he rushes back. How did I not think of him? . . .

He reaches Hyesung’s house in half the time it had taken him to get far enough away from it, pushing down the discomfort he feels once he sees its rising silhouette against the bruise-colored sky. This time, he doesn’t hesitate as he barrels through the front door, and is all at once greeted by the familiar sound of his son crying, as well as Minwoo’s voice and his attempts to subdue him.

“He’ll be back. Oh, don’t cry, little one.” Minwoo’s voice is gentle, vastly different from the tone he was using with Eric just minutes ago on the phone. There is a large dining area connected to the kitchen in the first floor and it’s there that everyone, it seems, has gathered, while also spilling out into the narrow hallway. Eric can hear his son but can’t see him given the crowd.

“But why did he leave me?” he hears Andy wail, and his tone is so deeply upset that guilt surges through Eric anew. “Why isn’t he back? What if he’s dead?”

“He isn’t, I promise.” Minwoo is saying in soothing tones. “Your Dad will come back. It’s all right…it’s all right…”

Thank God for Minwoo. Eric can breathe easier knowing he has his friend around and reminds himself to thank Minwoo properly after everything settles. His debts to him are stacking up, but there really would have been no way that Eric could have survived the past months if not for him.

“Andy.” His throat isn’t working properly so Eric has to strain to be heard. “Andy! I’m here!” He pushes through the throng, careful not to upset any wine or champagne glasses. When Andy’s cries reach levels of wailing that Eric has only ever heard during moments of severe distress, he hastens his speed of approach.

“I want Daddy!”

“I’ll call him for you, okay?” he can hear Minwoo still talking, oblivious to his shouting. “We’ll have your Daddy rush back. He would never leave you…”

Eric is finally able to push his way through, practically shouldering his way past the highbrow crowd without bothering to apologize. “I’m here! Minwoo, I’m sorry I—”

The statement of apology and gratitude that he was set to give his friend freezes on his lips. Andy is in the corner on the floor by the dining room table, surrounded by half a dozen children, including Junjin, who are watching the scene with worried eyes. He’s also sobbing in someone’s lap, someone who is decidedly not Minwoo.

Hyesung is kneeling on the floor in what looks to be an extremely uncomfortable position, with his jacket ed, one slipper off, and his hair slightly askew, a far cry from the epitome of grace that he was when Eric last saw him.  Andy is draped over him, sobbing, with the boy’s entire weight fully on his legs. Despite the obvious discomfort, he also has one hand rubbing Andy’s back comfortingly, while the other is cupping the back of his head. A father’s stance.

Hyesung looks up at Eric’s voice, stilling like a deer caught in the headlights as their gazes meet.

(There’s an odd moment when all sound seems to have been out as both Eric and Yumi continue to stare at each other from across the room, her from her table amongst her gaggle of friends, and him peeking out from the small window between the Nobu kitchen and dining area. She locks her gaze onto his, calm and unobtrusive, but nonetheless interested. When she waves at him, so discreetly it’s as though her hand is a flower swaying in the passing breeze, the spell breaks, and the chaos of the present comes rushing back in a mind-numbing roar)

“Uncle Eric!” Junjin exclaims, and Eric sees as, within seconds, Andy has whipped his head around, although his arms remain encircled around Hyesung’s neck. When he sees his father, he gasps and quickly disentangles himself to rush to him, practically launching himself off of the other man.

“DADDY! Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!”

Eric lifts his son just before he gets body-slammed and holds him to his chest. He rubs his back in comforting circles, shushing him gently as Andy continues to cry. In his peripheral vision, he can see as Hyesung pulls himself up to stand, Junjin helping him in the process.

“You left me. You left me, Daddy.” Andy is crying, betrayal coloring his tone a vivid scarlet. He uses a fist to thump Eric’s shoulder. One. Two. Three.

“I went for a walk and I lost track of time.” Eric ignores the pain Andy is inflicting on him while also avoiding Hyesung’s gaze, concentrating instead on comforting his son. He rocks him and squeezes him, hoping that Andy would feel the sincerity in the intensity of his hold. He’s been a parent for six years but still has no idea how the rodeo is run, apart from the fact that he has to remember to always apologize for all his ups. At the very least he will teach his son humility. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry. Daddy is so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“I thought you went away like Mama.”

The words sting, and Eric hugs his son tighter, intent on making his apology felt. “I’m sorry, baby, I really am.”

Andy squeezes his neck in a death grip, channeling all his anger and frustration into the strength in his arms and making Eric momentarily see spots. His cheeks are still warm where they had been pressed against Hyesung’s, and Eric’s gut clenches at the realization. “Don’t do that again or I’ll be really mad.”

“I won’t, I promise. You’ll always know where Daddy is. Deal? I love you, bubba.” He kisses his son on his ears, his cheeks, his forehead, involuntarily inhaling the traces of Hyesung’s cologne. “I love you. I love you. Okay?” he says, afraid he will never be able to say it enough. Andy grunts at him in reply, burying his face in his shoulder.

The crisis having been averted, Eric now raises his eyes: Hyesung has been watching them surreptitiously, his expression guarded and careful. Eric sees as the other man pretends to dust off the cuffs of his jacket just before their eyes meet, his fingers awkward as they brush past the immaculate material, soiled only with the remnants of Andy’s tears. Eric clears his throat.

“I apologize…again,” he says, realizing it’s his nth time to say sorry to Hyesung since he’s stepped foot in their house, but he’s now too emotionally spent to care. He can see some utensils and napkins on the floor, probably from the beginnings of Andy’s tantrum, and gestures at them with his hand. “I’ll clean those up once he’s calmed down a bit.”

Hyesung says nothing but does bend down to meet his son at eye level. “Choongjae,” Eric can hear him speak in a low voice. “Why don’t you try to see if Andy would like some dinner, so Andy’s Daddy and I can talk? Or you can take him up to your room? I can have food sent up to you. I’m sure he’d love to see your Lego collections.” Junjin’s face brightens at the suggestion and he nods, and Eric watches as Hyesung gently pushes his son forward.

“Uncle Eric.” Junjin approaches them furtively, his hands clasped on his chest. Around them, the guests have fortunately started milling about, giving them more space and going back to selecting food from the nearby buffet table, relieved that Andy’s issue has been resolved; it would have been embarrassing if they had continued to watch but Eric surmises the guests also don’t want to look into another private scene and make it even more awkward. “Does Andy…does Andy wanna go up to my room to play?”

Junjin has such a giving heart, Eric can practically feel how much he wants to make Andy feel better. He feels bad himself for partly causing this mess and ruining the boy’s birthday dinner.

“That’s very nice of you,” Eric smiles, making sure to acknowledge the effort. “Are you sure it’ll be okay?”

Junjin nods enthusiastically. “Oh yes! I can show him my zoo aminals and my rocket, and my castle…”

Andy wriggles in Eric’s hold and lifts his tear-streaked face. “If I go, will you leave again?” he asks, jutting his lower lip out. There is fear in his voice that hurts Eric to hear. He has to bear in mind now how deeply some of Andy’s wounds may run, and how easily his heart may be broken.

“I’ll be here with Junjin’s Daddy. Don’t worry.” Eric makes sure to assure his son. “We’ll just talk, and I can come get you when we’re done. I won’t ever ever leave without you, I promise.”

“Pinky swear.” He wipes at his face with his sweater sleeve as Eric hooks up their pinkies. When he’s satisfied that his father will be making good on his promises, he nods. “Okay.”

Eric sets his son down, then watches as Junjin takes Andy’s hand, tugging on it excitedly. “Don’t cry anymore, Andy. My Daddy will take care of your Daddy.”

The statement nearly makes Eric snort but he decides to keep it to himself.

“I’ll have Mrs. Kim send up your dinners but I don’t want any playtime before you guys finish eating, okay?” Hyesung chides gently. “I’m going to have her stay with you guys until you’re done.”

Junjin frowns, obviously chafing under the pre-conditions. “Aww, Appa!”

“No buts, Choongjae. Now go on. If you guys finish dinner fast enough, I’ll allow you to open one present tonight so you and Andy can play with it already.”

This causes a complete turnaround in Junjin’s mood and he nods and starts to pull Andy out of the room. “Okay, we promise! C’mon, Andy!” he says, stubbornly pushing through the crowd. Andy gives his father a last glance, his face creased with worry, but Eric only has to lift his pinky finger to get him smiling.

When he turns back to Hyesung, he’s met with a large white ceramic plate being ed into his hands.

“Dinner first before anything.” Hyesung’s tone is tired and resigned, a far cry from what he had been using with Junjin. “Tonight has been difficult and I’m,” he lowers his voice to a furious whisper, “honestly ing starving.”

For once, Eric doesn’t disagree with his prickly host. He gives in easily and nods.

“Lead the way.”

--

(She taught him this salad. Her favorite. It’s simple and comfortable for when everything feels out of reach; when your son has rooted through the trash can in the kitchen like an overgrown raccoon, or is teething on the dining room table leg, or has a consistently runny nose. For when you’re both at the ends of your rope but dinner must be served and bellies filled, and everyone has to rein in their tempers for the last few hours left in the day.)

The buffet is set out on a long table on the side of the square dining room that’s facing the indoor courtyard. The food itself is an eclectic mix, with tea sandwiches, store-bought pizzas, fruit salad, and cupcakes on one side of the massive Lego-themed cake, and cod roe pasta, an expensive-looking sashimi platter, abalone juk, and kimbap on the other side. Although his appetite is barely there, Eric gets a cup of fruit salad and several slices of kimbap to fill his plate with before he trails after Hyesung to the second floor, where there are fewer people and a private balcony with an unobstructed view of the Han.

(Much of the main work is going to go into the dressing. Mash two cloves of garlic and two oil-packed anchovy fillets together with a mortar and pestle. The angrier you are, the better. Don’t give up until it forms a smooth paste.)

Hyesung eats his own dinner in silence, sitting cross-legged in his chair as he inhales one chopstick-full of food after another. He really must have been hungry, but Eric isn’t apologizing again. He picks up a slice of kimbap and pops it into his mouth. It tastes overwhelmingly of sesame and he instinctively spits it back out.

(Slide in 2 tbsp of finely chopped shallots. Add in a quarter cup each of sherry wine vinegar and champagne vinegar. Stir a bit then let it sit for a bit to let the flavors get to know each other.)

“What’s wrong with it?” Hyesung asks as Eric catches his barely-chewed food with his napkin.

“It’s…er…” Eric doesn’t want to insult Hyesung anymore than he already has. He holds the remains of the kimbap in his palm. “I mean, I think I’m allergic to…” He quickly assesses the ingredients but can barely see anything under the dim lighting in the balcony, “…seaweed.”

“You ‘think’.” Hyesung deadpans. “Well. I won’t force you. I made that and it is wrapped in seaweed.”

Somehow the confession of him putting together the roll doesn’t surprise Eric. He remembers Junjin had mentioned it once or twice before.

“You…um…made it?” Eric feigns ignorance.

“Yes. Choongjae likes them.” Hyesung sounds almost proud but is trying not to seem so. “I don’t usually have a lot of spare time on my hands but when I can, I make him kimbap.”

Eric bites his tongue before he can ask whether or not Hyesung had intended it to be sesame-flavored. “Oh. I see,” he says instead, and leaves it at that as he carefully balls up the remains of the kimbap he has in his hand with the napkin.

(Add a fat dollop of Dijon mustard to the vinegar-and-shallot-with-anchovy-and-garlic-paste-mixture. Slowly whisk in ¾ cup of olive oil until the dressing emulsifies.)

Hyesung frowns as Eric moves on to the fruit salad, leaving the other pieces of kimbap untouched. “You can get more food, you know.” He grumbles. “You’re making me look like a bad host.”

“Or maybe I’m a bad guest.” Eric says. The fruit salad is refreshing – cubes of honeydew, watermelon, imported mangoes, and pineapple tossed together in a light sugar syrup – and tastes of summer, but it doesn’t satisfy his craving for crisp lettuce, juicy avocado, and the rich tangy dressing in his memory. He hopes it doesn’t show on his face. “Anyway, I’m fine with this.”

Hyesung sighs. He’s already finished most of his dinner.

“Listen…I know you were upset at what I had said a while ago.” This time, Hyesung avoids meeting his gaze. “I hadn’t known, but it was…most insensitive of me to say nonetheless. I know myself what…loss…feels like.”

His voice is low and soft, similar to what he had been using with Junjin, but with a thread of rawness that makes something in Eric twinge. Again, the feeling of familiarity washes over him, as though he’s known Hyesung in another plane of existence, despite it being wholly impossible. In his hands, the fruit cup trembles between his fingers. He says nothing to Hyesung in reply.

(Assemble the salad. Use crisp hearts of romaine, and arrange them in a wide bowl or serving dish, trough-style. Drizzle dressing into the interior and toss gently with your hands to coat the leaves.)

“Eric-sshi. I apologize. I was wrong.” Hyesung says.

(Pit an avocado and slice it lengthwise. Arrange it on top of the coated leaves. Grab some coarse salt, chili pepper flakes, and rough-chopped parsley and sprinkle it on top. Throw in additional dressing. Serve and eat right away.)

Eric shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have left like that. I hadn’t accounted for Andy having a meltdown.” He clears his throat. “But...thank you for helping him out.”

“I would have done it for any child. It really isn’t a bother.” Hyesung says, now looking embarrassed. Eric can see as he wrings his hands. “Additionally…please accept my belated condolences for your wife.”

This surprises Eric and he looks up to meet Hyesung’s eyes, expecting something to start a fight about, but the only thing he sees is a softened expression that he didn’t expect, as well as an empathetic sadness that tells him there is more to the story than the other man is letting on. In the same way he doesn’t want to talk about Yumi, he assumes the same about Hyesung and his own wife, and doesn’t ask.

“Thank you.” Eric accepts the sympathies offered with a curt nod. He wishes they had alcohol to ease the growing lump in his throat. “I hope Junjin’s party wasn’t totally ruined because of it.”

“He and the other children had their fill of games and prizes downstairs prior to it. I can assure you they are well satisfied.” Hyesung rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Andy even won several games. I’m sure the memory of that will suffice for tonight.”

“Oh…Andy may never let me live this down.” Eric shakes his head. “Or forgive me.”

“Do children ever? Choongjae is much the same—”

There’s a loud clattering behind them as the sliding door leading to the balcony is wrenched open, interrupting their conversation and making them jump. Eric only notices just how close they were sitting when their knees bang painfully against each other’s as they make to stand.

“THERE YOU ARE!” Minwoo exclaims overly loud as he and Dongwan emerge from the gold-lit hallway. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“What are you both doing out here? It’s freezing!” Dongwan says, hopping up and down as he rubs at his arms. He gives them both a thoughtful glance, noting their awkward stance. “Whoops, sorry, did we interrupt anything, or—?”

“No!” Eric blurts out. He advances a step to be set apart a bit from Hyesung. He doesn’t know why his heart is racing. “We were…we were just talking.”

“Talking?” Minwoo peers at Hyesung and gives a slight bow. “Hello, Hyesung-sshi. Thank you for not killing my friend.”

“My pleasure.” Hyesung replies. He sounds vaguely amused, and already seems to have regained the emotional distance that they had had when the party had started. For some reason, this assumption disappoints Eric.

“You.” Minwoo points at Eric with an accusing finger. “Have you seen to your son? Where’s Andy?”

“He’s upstairs, playing with Choongjae.” Hyesung answers for him. “He should be all right. Choongjae is far more adept at these types of situations than I am…admittedly.” He ends the statement sounding sheepish.

(Cute, Eric thinks as he sees Yumi’s smile bob and weave through the crowd. He finds it hard to look away)

“We should actually go…” Eric says, now turning to face Hyesung once more. The moonlight is shining silver on them both, and on Hyesung it accentuates the fine curves and graceful lines on his face. Despite his rumpled hair and tear-stained suit, it makes him seem almost otherworldly, and perhaps, standing on the balcony of this grand house with its exclusive address in one of the most expensive cities in the world, he may already very well be.

They have overstayed their invitation.

“What?” Minwoo sounds annoyed. “Eric, are you serious? It’s not even 8PM yet.”

“We’ve taken up too much of your time already. I think it’d be best if we make a graceful exit while we still can.” Eric says, ignoring Minwoo. “And Andy may be tired.” He adds the last statement for good measure. “He’s had a long day.”

There is a shadow of disappointment that crosses over Hyesung’s face at his words, but it may just be a trick of the light.

“You may be right.” The other man muses. “But please stay a few more minutes to join Choongjae in blowing out his birthday candles. We don’t usually do it until the end of the party but now’s a good time as any.”

Eric finds himself nodding, maybe a little too quickly. His head is swimming slightly, although he’s not had any wine to drink.

It can’t hurt…just a few more minutes.

“Okay, that’s fine,” he says. This time, Hyesung affords him a smile, small and nearly a shadow, but definitely there.

“All right. Follow me then.”

--

They fetch the boys from Junjin’s room on the topmost level in the house, scooping them up from the mess of Playmobil kits and Schleich dinosaur figurines that have been arranged meticulously around a plastic volcano. Andy seems to have regained his bearings and is excitedly talking in time with Junjin as they descend back to the first floor, his arms still tightly encircled around Eric’s neck. Once they’re downstairs, Dongwan corrals the crowd and their offspring back into the kitchen and lights the seven candles on the three-tier Lego cake in the middle of the buffet table, before leading them into singing Happy Birthday. Hyesung lifts Junjin up higher so he can easily reach the top of the cake, both their faces smiling and glowing golden in the candlelight.

Saranghaneun woori ah deul, Eric hears Hyesung sing, his voice distinct even amongst the sea of people, the lyric change soft but noticeable to anyone standing near them. In the firelight, Eric sees the unmistakable, intense love that he has for his son, and can feel the ache of a kindred soul struggling to give their only child the very best that they can offer, despite all hurdles and limitations that are thrown their way.

Je il saranghabnida.

Junjin extinguishes all seven candles with an almighty puff and the crowd claps and cheers, Andy and Eric included. And then, the party is over, ending with Hyesung giving a short speech.

“To old friends, and new ones…” Hyesung’s eye somewhat meets his, but quickly switches focus. “Thank you all again for coming and…Choongjae? Do you want to say anything?”

“Thank you so much, I will enjoy all your presents!!!” Junjin exclaims, grinning widely as he tightens the hold he has on his father, who is still carrying him in his arms. The crowd erupts in laughter at his antics. Even Hyesung can’t help but smile.

“Anyway, that’s it for the party. Should you already be leaving, please don’t forget to take a loot bag. They’ve already been prepared and are by the entrance with Mrs. Kim—”

“Your ending line, Hyesung!” someone in the crowd says. “You’re not skipping out on that again!”

Eric sees as Hyesung rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Hah. No way. That’s so corny!”

“Say your ending line!” The crowd hoots, raising glasses of champagne. “Say it with Choongjae.”

Eric has no idea what the crowd is pertaining to but sees as Junjin bounces in his father’s hold, obviously keen to do whatever it is that everyone is egging them on to do.

“Just once, Appa! I like doing it with you.”

Hyesung rolls his eyes once more and sighs, but Eric knows the look of a man about to give in.

“Okay, fine. You ready?”

“Yes!”

Hyesung’s ears are already bright red, although his eyes are set only on Junjin, possibly to decrease further embarrassment. “Okay…go.”

“I hope your night shines bright like a comet!” Junjin says excitedly.

“This is Shin Hyesung…”

“And Shin Choongjae! Good night!”

The crowd laughs and explodes into indulgent applause. Eric feels as though the world has slightly tilted off its axis as he sees Hyesung smiling at his son, looking fit to burst.

Oh.

“Ah.” Minwoo says from beside him. “That’s why he was so familiar.”

Eric turns to his friend. “You mean you’re also only figuring this out now? I thought you rich ones had small circles.” He hisses loud enough for only the two of them to hear.

“Please.” Minwoo scoffs. “Celebrities are in their own unit. I don’t know much about him but he does make good money off of producing music, as well as doing his DJ gig. He’s pretty famous for that night show of his, as evidenced even by you.”

Eric feels an odd sense of relief at the discovery, although he doesn’t know exactly why. He feels more secure with the knowledge that Junjin is actually not the child of an undercover mobster or some backwater crime ring mastermind, but that Hyesung is a celebrity in his own right, and it’s no wonder that he is, in fact, annoyingly rich. It answers some of his own questions as to why Hyesung is perhaps never around, but the revelation also admittedly makes Eric more intrigued over other things.

“There was some news about him some years back, when he married.” Minwoo says, as though reading his mind. “I can’t really recall now. I think I was away when it was all happening. I’ll have to look it up.”

“That’s your task for the weekend.”

“You were actually alone with him outside and you could have asked.” Minwoo complains. “Anyway, what were you two discussing so seriously out on the damn balcony, you could have actually told me you’d already made it back. Why did you even run off, for God’s sakes, Dongwan and I were looking all over the neighborhood for you!”

Eric recalls those strange moments of being outside alone with Hyesung, of sharing a meal and quiet, secret heartaches together, sitting so closely that they could have kissed—

“It doesn’t matter.” Eric answers quickly, slightly horrified at the train of thought his mind had conjured up.

“It doesn’t?” Minwoo echoes rather stupidly.

“No. Anyway, he got Andy to calm down.”

Andy, by this point, already has his head resting on Eric’s shoulder. He draws stars on Eric’s back with his finger.

“I’m okay now, Daddy. I’m just tired. Let’s go home.”

Eric glances towards the side of the room where Hyesung and Junjin are still surrounded by a thick crowd of people tittering into their champagne and flicking paper-thin wrists in the air. Normally he would force a final goodbye, but feels that, in this case, a silent exit would be the most graceful one. The night has borne them all too many surprises. He doesn’t care for any more.

“Yeah.” Eric rubs Andy’s back as he tears his eyes away from Hyesung and his brilliant smile. “Let’s go home then.”

tbc

Author's Notes
1. Oh man. This chapter was a doozy. There were too many things that happened. I'm still not sure if I should have crammed them all here but what's been said has been said. I hope it's clear that there's a Shift happening. Hehehe.
2. Hyesung changes the birthday song lyrics to: I love you my dear son / I love you the most, around the same lines as Happy birthday, dear XYZ / Happy birthday to you.
3. When Junjin says 'Appa' he's speaking in Korean. When he refers to Hyesung as 'Daddy', he's speaking in English.
4. Thank you for all the comments, they seriously keep me writing. 
5. HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO THOSE WHO ARE CELEBRATING! Much love from me to you.