“Hey,” Kyungsoo couldn’t help the surprised shift of his eyebrows as he heard the unmistakable sound of legs dragging against the floor and looked up to see his daughter walking towards the kitchen counter. “You’re up early today.”

“Homework,” Jia grumbled, and her voice carried a bit of a rasp after waking up, despite being as sweet as honey. Sleep still hadn’t left her eyes, as she rubbed at them tiredly, before plopping herself on the empty chair in front of him. “Gotta finish everything before heading to the studio later today.”

“Today’s the last practice before the recital?”

Jia nodded through a deep yawn. Kyungsoo had to fight the smile that tugged on his lips. He was always proud to see his little baby working so hard on her art, dancing her heart out on that stage. She was talented and she was disciplined, the perfect ingredients to create genius. In Kyungsoo’s humble opinion, at least. She was only fourteen, she still had a long way to go. But considering her young age, he was proud and beyond of everything she had achieved so hard.

It was not easy to get into the most prestigious ballet academies. Not even when your father was Kim Jongin. Yet, that hadn’t even mattered in Jia’s case. She had managed to do it all by herself.

“Alright then,” Kyungsoo nodded. “Breakfast?”

“Please,” Jia stifled yet another yawn, and Kyungsoo felt the urge to just reach out and caress her head, and then pull her into the tightest of all hugs. But she was grown now. She didn’t really like it anymore. Gone was the little girl that would tackle him from behind with her spontaneous hugs, gone was the little girl that giggled every time he leaned in to pepper her with little kisses and to tickle her.

She was poised now. A ballerina. An exhausted, little ballerina, torn between spending half of her days at school and the other half at the ballet school. It was entirely too much for a little kid to handle, but she was still doing okay so far.

“Can you also make me a latte, the way dad has it?”

“A latte?” Kyungsoo’s eyebrow arched on his forehead. He threw her a look over his shoulder, momentarily looking away from the cereal he was procuring from the shelves. “Since when do you drink lattes?”

“Since I need to write a ten-page report on some dumb dictator who died 200 years ago.”

Kyungsoo’s lips shifted again. He didn’t know whether to laugh, or to cry. He settled for turning back to the bowl of cereal and promptly frowning.

She was doing okay, but she was tired. All of that was entirely too much work for a fourteen year-old. It’s not like they forced her to, she insisted on doing it herself. And if that was the case, they could not stop her. She would hate them, if they did.

He breathed out, eyes shooting towards the calendar. Summer vacation could not come any faster. Jia needed the break, as much as he did.

“Fine,” he gave up. “But don’t get used to it.”

“What? Drinking coffee or you making it for me?”

“It’s entirely too early to be this lippy,” he turned around, sliding the bowl of cereal on the marble counter towards his little girl. She just gave him a small grin, to which he narrowed his eyes playfully.

“Where’s dad?”

“Still sleeping,” Kyungsoo sat himself in front of Jia. He watched her pouring milk over the cereal, before picking up the spoon. Her usually sleek hair brought up in a tight ponytail or bun was down, messy from sleeping. She looked so cute with her eyes widening in surprise as she checked the time on her phone. “Told you. You’re up early.”

“I’m not up that early, he’s just sleeping in.”

“As he should,” Kyungsoo hummed, perching his chin on his hand. “It’s been a busy week.”

“Then why aren’t you still in bed?”

“And let you burn down the kitchen making that coffee by yourself? Never.”

Jia just gave him a little smile, before returning to her breakfast. Like she knew that he was probably right.

But Kyungsoo was up because the week had been busy, and it still was. Reports coming in from the factory, production going wrong. Defects in the latest jackets from his collection, everything needed to be done all over again. A disaster, really.

But he didn’t want to bore Jia to death first thing in the morning. Besides, it was not her problem to worry about. It was his.

He just tapped his fingers on his cheek, absentmindedly watching his daughter eating breakfast just in front of him, one elegant finger scrolling on her phone, attention pinned on whatever the last gossip among eight-graders was.

His eyes shot up to the stairs again, as if expecting two more pairs of feet to waddle downstairs and towards him soon. It was a long day, but it was the last day of the week. He just wanted his family to wake up, to get all work over with, and then just spend a few hours with them, before getting into another long and busy week.

“Chanyeol’s album comes out in two months,” Baekhyun barged into the editor-in-chief’s office loudly and with no regard to anyone else who might have been having a conversation or meeting in there. “Is there a slot in the September issue for a feature?”

Kyungsoo’s eyes trailed from Baekhyun to Jongin. His husband just took a sip from his matcha latte, completely unaffected. He remained silent for a few moments, eyes shooting down towards the latte. If Kyungsoo didn’t know him as well as he did, he wouldn’t have noticed the little shift in his gaze, the small wrinkle appearing on his nose bridge as he frowned the tiniest bit in dissatisfaction. But they had been married for almost twenty years now, and Kyungsoo knew.

“Winter, get me some ice for this,” he said in a monotone voice, almost sounding boring. Then, his eyes shot towards Baekhyun. He raised one eyebrow. “Are you his manager or something?”

“No.”

“PR then? An assistant?”

“No, better. I’m his husband.”

“Ah, his husband,” Jongin clicked his tongue, making a mocking expression of pity. “I’m afraid that meetings and discussions about features with people holding the title of husband are the concerns of people with pay checks far lesser than mine.”

“Will you feature him or not, you ?”

Jongin’s face cracked then. He let out a sigh. He didn’t really look annoyed. Yet. Then again, he didn’t really look thrilled either.

“Baekhyun, I’ve featured Chanyeol after four out of five of his previous albums. You can’t always just barge in here and demand me to keep doing that,” Jongin sounded a little exasperated, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair. Kyungsoo could see the reluctancy in his eyes, but also the steel-hard conviction. Unwavering. “He’s my friend too, but we’re talking about the September issue here. All fall/winter collections will have been revealed by then. You know I have no spots to spare.”

“Alright then,” Baekhyun shrugged. He didn’t seem particularly upset, which was a good thing. He had a good head on those broad shoulders of his, Kyungsoo would admit that. He knew when to take his losses. “But just think about all the copies you would have sold what with his fans buying anything he’s featured in like hot cakes.”

Kyungsoo’s brows rose up high on his forehead for a fraction of a second, before he immediately turned to Jongin.

Baekhyun was right.

Jongin knew that too, judging by the bitter acceptance briefly shining through in his chocolate eyes. He seemed to contemplate it for few very long moments.

“Tell you what,” the editor-in-chief ended up saying, and Kyungsoo immediately saw the corner of Baekhyun’s lip curling. He tried not to smile, but one could smell the smugness in the air already. “Have his marketing teams – his actual teams – put in a request with PR. It will be reviewed fairly along with all other feature pitches we have.”

“Why even bother filing it when we’re the ones reviewing the pitches.”

“Exactly. We review the pitches,” Jongin looked at Baekhyun over the rim of his glasses, before pushing them up his nose. He straightened. “I can’t have people saying that I’m biased. It’s my job to give everyone a fair chance, even if they don’t stand it.”

“That does sound a little horrible when you put it like that, love,” Kyungsoo sniffed, lazily flipping through the pages of the mock-up.

“One would think you’d have gotten used to the idea that you married a jackass by now, Soo,” Baekhyun sounded entirely too jolly and careless, the smug smirk not contained anymore.

Jongin just rolled his eyes, a sigh slipping past his lips. He didn’t even bother to threaten Baekhyun with cutting Chanyeol’s chances or anything of the sort. He just gave him a look.

“Did you want anything else?”

Baekhyun’s lips turned up into another half-smirk. He shook his head.

“Good,” Jongin nodded, sharp eyes moving up from the papers on his desk towards his art director. His eyebrows shifted minimally, enough to show that he was done with this conversation. “Leave.”

Jia was brilliant.

It came as no surprise to either of them that she danced beautifully. She was talented, incredibly so, shining so bright on that big stage even at her young age. But even if they already knew all that, even if they had been anticipating the perfect performance with hours and hours of practice poured into it, they still felt the pride pulsing inside them.

They were so proud of her. So intensely and heavily proud. Kyungsoo just wanted to brag, tell anyone and everyone who was willing to listen that Jia was his daughter.

“Stop, dad,” Jia complained, pushing him off. He didn’t want to let go, but she pushed at his chest again while laughing. “You’re suffocating me.”

“Oh, just one more time,” Kyungsoo mumbled, pulling her in close one more time. She struggled in his arms, and then – finally – he let her go.

Jia stepped back, hands reaching down to fix the tutu. She gave him a hard look under her eyelashes, the eyeshadow shimmering beautifully under the dim lights backstage.

Kyungsoo had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling too widely. He leaned into Jongin’s embrace, feeling his husband’s warmth as he pulled him in closer, arm securely twisting around his shoulders. His eyes flashed down to Jisu, Jongin’s other hand resting on the boy’s shoulder. Jisu didn’t seem to care much about Jia or her performance. He seemed to be more interested in the heavy curtain ropes hanging from the side of the stage. Trouble was pooling in his eyes, like he was trying to figure out how to break out of his father’s grip and go pull on them. See what would happen. Thankfully, Jongin was holding him.

“You can pick where we eat tonight, princess,” Jongin announced. He still sounded a little choked up, and Kyungsoo just gripped him a little tighter. Out of the two of them, Jongin was the one who had a real passion for ballet, the one who was always unconditionally supporting Jia when it came to her ballet classes. Kyungsoo was the one overthinking every little detail, like scheduling conflicts with her regular school, like wondering when she’d have enough time for self-study and for homework. Who would be picking her up and dropping her off from one end of Seoul to the other. Jongin was the one going behind his back and making everything their daughter wanted possible.

Kyungsoo would have it no other way. After all, it had lead them here. Jia was shining, and they had never felt prouder of her.

And then, before Jia could even reply, a flock of fourteen-year-olds invaded their space. Arriving from the front with loud shrieks and exclamations, surrounding Jia from all sides.

Kyungsoo physically had to pull his husband and son back in order not to get trampled by those teenage girls.

“We should eat at McDonalds,” Jisu announced, and Kyungsoo threw a look towards his son. “They are giving out Yu-Gi-Oh cards with the Happy Meal this month.”

“Yu-Gi-Oh cards are still a thing?” Jongin whispered, and he sounded genuinely confused. Kyungsoo shrugged. He was just as clueless as his husband. What with them spending the majority of their days in the office of VOGUE, surrounded by models, designers and clothes, somehow their attention on the toys and games market was a little lacking.

“It’s up to your sister today, baby,” Kyungsoo whispered gently. “We can go to McDonald’s after your concert next week.”

“But I don’t want to wait until next week!” Jisu whined. He turned to Jongin then. “I’m one card away from getting a full Exodia! And I want to get the Skuna, The Leonine Rakan card too!”

Kyungsoo was pretty sure Jisu had started talking another language, cause he had no clue what he was saying at this point.

“Can’t we just buy it from somewhere?”

“No!” Jisu seemed distraught, maybe even a little annoyed. “They’re collector edition cards, you can’t just go and buy them.”

Kyungsoo didn’t have the heart to tell his son that if they really were collector edition cards, they probably wouldn’t be found in a four-dollar McDonald’s Happy Meal.

Besides, his attention shifted to the group of teenagers in front of them. The girls had now parted on both sides of Jia, some of them her classmates, others – girls from the ballet academy, wearing soft pink tutus. All of them seemed rather excited, flocked together and giggling, as they watched at one other person.

There was a boy there, hesitantly walking forward to Jia. He was wearing jeans and a hoodie, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand awkwardly. The other hand was lowered, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie, like he didn’t know what to do with it.

Kyungsoo felt his eyes narrowing as he watched him stopping right in front of Jia. He watched him smiling then, a little, awkward smile, accompanied by awkward shifting in his place as he raised the bouquet to her.

Jia was beaming. Elegant hands reached out to take the bouquet, and she raised it to her face, hiding her wide smile behind the flowers gingerly.

Kyungsoo’s fingers dipped into Jongin’s arm, trying to get his attention away for a second from Jisu, who was ranting on and on about the five pieces of Exodia.

He didn’t know if Jongin was looking or not. He just knew that he was staring. He was a little intrigued, seeing this, witnessing it. This young boy still standing there, unruly hair falling over his eyes. He flicked his head every few seconds or so to get the hair away, giving Jia those awkward smiles. She was nodding, and whatever she was saying, Kyungsoo could not hear. And then, she laughed, and moved.

Towards them.

Leaving all those fourteen-year-olds behind and rushing towards him and Jongin and Jisu. There was spring in her elegant step, her hair tied in a bun still, the sparkles on her face and dress shimmering mystically.

Kyungsoo’s eyes lingered on that boy for a few moments. Some of Jia’s classmates started talking to him as she rushed towards them. They all seemed to know each other, so why was it that Kyungsoo had no idea who he was?

“Who was that,” Jongin fired right away as soon as Jia stopped in front of them. His voice was inquiring. Not necessarily cold. Just dripping with sharp curiosity.

So he had been watching.

Jia seemed to contemplate everything for a few moments. She looked like she wanted to play dumb, but her actions betrayed her. Her hands tightened around the bouquet of irises, and her eyes briefly met Kyungsoo’s. When he just raised his eyebrow, she tried to play it off cool. She looked over he shoulder and shrugged.

“Just a classmate.”

Kyungsoo opened his mouth, ready to fire more questions. Jongin felt a little tense beside him. But before any of them could say or so anything, Jia had smiled again.

“Can I go eat with my friends tonight? They all came to watch, so could I-...could I maybe go with them instead?”

Kyungsoo didn’t particularly mind. Sure, it was a pity that they wouldn’t have that family dinner he had been hoping for, but they did that after every recital of Jia’s anyways.

“Who is going?”

“Everybody!” Jia answered Jongin’s question right away. “There’s a pizzeria just down the street, Jiyeon saved a booth for fifteen people. Can I go?”

Kyungsoo met Jongin’s eyes, and he saw the last hint of reluctancy fading. Instead, his husband sighed.

“I’ll come pick you up at ten thirty.”

“Ten thirty?! Dad, that’s in an hour! The pizza won’t even be ready by then.”

“Eleven,” Kyungsoo interfered, fingers squeezing Jongin’s shoulders. “You have your phone?” Jia raised it, the smile already slowly blooming on her face again. “Alright then.”

“You’re the best,” Jia grinned again. She was moving so much, it was almost like her feet were on a coil and made her bounce non-stop. “Can I have twenty bucks, please?”

Jongin seemed even more reluctant as he pulled his wallet out of his coat’s pocket.

“Eleven. No haggling later for staying longer,” he repeated, stressing every beat of the word. He had fished out a fifty, holding it towards Jia but not quite letting go yet. “Clear?”

“Crystal,” Jia