The first time Kyungsoo saw the Juilliard homepage open on Jia’s laptop, he didn’t pay it much mind. She was only seventeen still, and he had three consecutive meetings to get to. And he was already late.

The second time he saw a Juilliard pamphlet safely tucked on her nightstand as he had barged into her room to pick up his tablet which he had borrowed to her two days ago and she still hadn’t returned, he looked at it curiously. Then, he got distracted by the mess of tutus, slippers, bags and clothes on the floor, and he breathed out through his nose. He screamed her name so loudly that it felt like their entire house started shaking.

The third time Juilliard came to his attention, was when him and Jongin were sitting at the kitchen island at the late of night. The sporadic sounds of Jisu strumming his guitar upstairs as he came up with different melodies were faint, the distant buzzing from the TV someone had left were filling the silence in the living room.

Him and Jongin were just sitting together in the kitchen, sharing a piece of cake straight from the takeout box, quietly laughing about Sehun’s misfortunes. Their friend had called them earlier today from a payphone God knows where in Europe, asking if they could please contact Junmyeon for him and tell him he lost his phone. They couldn’t find each other. Jongin was laughing at the fact that those two had split up even for a moment when they were usually attached at the hip. Kyungsoo was laughing at the fact that even after all these years, Sehun knew Jongin’s number by heart, and not his own boyfriend’s.

Their conversation had then shifted to Europe, to the upcoming shows they had to attend there, and to an eventual family vacation they could fit in there. They were talking about Venice and Milan, about Paris or the south of France. Jongin grabbed his hand then, a spark in his eyes. Do you remember Amsterdam, he asked, and Kyungsoo’s heart melted as he squeezed his husband’s fingers, distant memories from what felt like decades ago filling his mind.

“Dad?”

Their heads whipped at the sudden whisper. Jia was moving in the shadows of the house, approaching them from the staircase. Her phone, as usual, was securely locked in her grip, her long and beautiful hair freely flowing down her back. In the late of night, she looked more like their little girl. No makeup, no fancy clothes. Just one of Jongin’s old T-shirts she had stolen, big and wide on her, reaching the middle of her thighs, and some old, worn leggings.

Kyungsoo straightened a little, giving her a lopsided smile as she came even closer. Jongin spun his chair enough to reach out and pull out another for her.

Now, that was unusual.

Jia willingly coming to sit with them. Usually, she only did when she wanted to ask for something. Like that one time she asked to borrow the car. Or like that one time she came to inform them she was going to Japan with her friends and her obnoxiously disturbing new boyfriend at the time, the college student with the piercings. They’d grounded her for a week at the time instead, and Kyungsoo had resorted to carrying her passport around in his own briefcase all week long to make sure she was not going anywhere.

He had his suspicions. The end of term was approaching, which meant summer vacation and all those friends of Jia wanting to go on road trips. He suspected she wanted to go with them to Jeju, or that she wanted some more money to get new outfits for the upcoming recitals. That, or maybe she had another modelling gig she needed permission for.

“Can we talk for a minute?”  she asked as she finally sat down, and Kyungsoo blinked. There usually wasn’t that much hesitance in her eyes when she asked for stuff.

“We can talk for two,” Jongin replied, eager to actually talk to her. She usually just spent the entire evenings on her phone, texting her friends or watching TV shows. Kyungsoo gave her a lopsided smile when her inquiring eyes moved to him, and he pushed the box with the cake towards her.

But Jia didn’t pick up a fork, even though she did nod her head in appreciation. She did not even look up again. Her fingers were fiddling with her phone, and she seemed nervous.

“When are the-“ she cut herself off, and Kyungsoo saw her eyebrows knitting together. She lowered her head and that strong, black hair fell on both sides of her face. She tried again. “I was wondering about the-“

And then she stopped again. Her knuckles were turning white from how hard she was squeezing her phone. Kyungsoo straightened a little, throwing a confused look towards Jongin. He felt thousands and thousands of horrible scenarios filling his mind, each worse than the previous. His palms were starting to sweat.

His husband reached out, hand resting on Jia’s knee.

“Is everything alright, princess?”

“What?” she asked, a little delirious. “Yeah! Yeah, everything’s fine, I just-“ Jia breathed in then, as if bracing herself. She seemed a little calmer as she looked up to them then, eyes lingering on each of them for a few short moments. “I was wondering if I could maybe tag along when you guys leave for New York fashion week next month.”

Kyungsoo blinked quickly. He almost collapsed as he let out a small relieved sigh.

“New York?” Jongin asked, his voice contained and calm. “Why? What’s in New York?”

Kyungsoo perked up again then. He eyed Jia suspiciously, as she fumbled with her phone again.

Maybe another obnoxious party they didn’t know about, or another field trip with those rich model friends she’d made during her previous gigs.

Jia breathed in then, and she unlocked her phone. She put it on the marble counter and slid it towards them. Another peculiarity because they usually only got scoffs and bity remarks when they peeked at her phone.

Now, however, Jia left the phone in front of them, and she held her breath in anticipation.

The page open on her phone was colourful, and Kyungsoo’s eyes needed a few moments to adjust. He vaguely watched Jongin pulling his glasses down from the top of his head, his hair falling over his face as he pulled the phone closer to them.

The Juilliard School.

Flashes of him seeing the website and the pamphlets before erupted in his mind, and he felt his heart constricting for a moment. Then, he looked towards their little girl.

Jia was biting on her lip, a worried expression on her face as she waited.

“Juilliard?” Jongin spoke first, looking up from the phone towards their daughter instead. He pushed up his glasses again. He seemed a little confused.

Kyungsoo felt his husband’s fingers holding his hand a little tighter as Jia recovered her phone, back to nervously playing with it.

“I applied,” she said then, finally, and Kyungsoo felt his breath hitching. He suddenly lost all ability to talk. All ability to even think. He felt his eyebrows knitting together as he threw Jia’s phone an accusing glare.

“You applied?”  Jongin echoed, and even he couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice. He straightened in his chair, confusion taking over his face. “Hold on, what about SNU? I thought you wanted to-“

“I thought I did too,” Jia interrupted him hurriedly, before shaking her head. “But…Miss Jung, at the academy, she studied there you know. An old professor of hers came to watch our last recital in winter. He gave me the pamphlet, told me to think about it.”

Kyungsoo’s mind was scattered. Jongin seemed to be listening attentively to Jia, but there was more and more confusion building up in his eyes.

“I sent my prerequisite videos without thinking much of it. I mean, it’s Juilliard, like, what are the odds, right?”  Jia gave off a cynical laugh, and the instinct to shake his head was stronger than him. He reached out, laying a hand over his daughter’s. He wasn’t even paying attention to the fact that Jia hadn’t even told them about it. “And then I heard back from them last week. They’re inviting me for in-person auditions. In their academy, in New York. That’s why…”

Her voice drifted off in the silence of the night, and Kyungsoo could hear nothing but the wild beating of his own heart.

He felt Jongin’s fingers tightening around his hand again, with more urgency. They were both at a loss for words.

“I-…Juilliard?”  Jongin repeated, and it was odd to see the editor-in-chief speechless. His tone was full of disbelief, like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard right in the first place. But Jia nodded, and Kyungsoo had to breathe in deeply. His eyes met his husband’s, and he saw a mirror of his own confusion.

“Oh wow,”  he ended up sighing. Then, pushing aside all other thoughts for the time being, he turned towards Jia. “I mean, that is huge, princess. I-…”

“Congratulations,” Jongin took over when he realized Kyungsoo was struggling with his words. But even he sounded like he was asking a question.

Jia scoffed again then, hiding behind her long hair.

“It’s just an audition,” she said, and there was a hint of fear in her voice. Dejection. Like she was sure it was too good to be true. “I might not get in, but-“ 

“You will get in,” Jongin said it with such conviction, and Kyungsoo fiercely nodded along.  Maybe he was biased, maybe he was not objective because it was his own daughter, but he had never seen a more stunning ballerina. He had never seen someone get so immersed in the dance.

Jia was dance. She was elegant and gentle, flowing like a rose petal on the surface of a calm lake. She was fierce when she needed to be, a little too opinionated for his tastes and nerves at times, strong. She was slow, knowing when to rest and when to take her time, when to take a step back and enjoy life; and she was fast, hurrying to fall back in rhythm and strive for the peak.

She was going to get in, that much he knew.

He just didn’t know how that made him feel.

Insanely proud? Of course. Happy for his one and only daughter? Absolutely.

Absolutely crushed? That too, yes.

“Are you sure you really want this, though?” Jongin asked, and his voice was sweet and gentle.

Jia smiled then, and the sun was shining in the middle of the night in their kitchen.

“I want to try,” she said, and it was clear that she’d thought about it long and hard. “That way, whatever happens, I won’t have any regrets.”

Fair enough, Kyungsoo thought. That was a rather mature way of thinking for someone as impulsive and expressive as a teenager at Jia’s age.

His eyes met Jongin’s again then, and there was understanding in them. Badly concealed worry was trying to erupt too, but he was keeping it at bay.

It took all of Kyungsoo’s willpower to nod, and when he did, he felt his shoulders slumping. Jongin held his hand even tighter.

“Alright then,” he said, and his voice sounded a little hoarser than it had just ten seconds ago. “I’ll have everything arranged tomorrow.”

Jia was glowing, and Kyungsoo’s heart was breaking.

“Go ask your brother if he wants to go too, or if he’d rather stay with his grandma,” Kyungsoo said, and his voice was dull.

“Thank you,” Jia said, and she could barely contain her excitement. She was worried, Kyungsoo could tell. There was still a hint of concern in her big, beautiful eyes and her fingers were still fumbling with the phone. But she seemed content now that they finally knew.

Kyungsoo remained silent as he watched her skipping away from them and walking up the stairs. He heard the faint knocking on a closed door and the abrupt silence as Jisu stopped strumming his guitar.

“Hey,” Jongin’s voice dragged him out of his thoughts, and he whipped his head back to his husband. He felt gentle fingers running over his wrist and he realized how hard he was gripping Jongin’s arm. He let out a shaky breath. “What do you think about this?”

What did he, really? He didn’t know what to think.

“It’s Juilliard,” Kyungsoo said, trying to stay rational. “That is…it’s just…that’s mind-blowing, really. It’s amazing…”

Jongin’s touch was soothing. His eyes were wide and honest, urging him to open up.

“But?”

“It’s in New York,” he said, and when the words left his lips, he felt the heave of the entire world on his shoulders. Jongin sensed the turmoil inside him, or maybe one had awakened inside him, Kyungsoo didn’t know. His eyes were stinging a little, so he had to blink quickly to get rid of the unreasonable tears. He waited for Jongin to round the counter and get closer to him, engulfing him in his warm and tight embrace. He buried his face in Jongin’s body, trying to drown in the warmth of his husband’s hold. But that didn’t work, and his heart was aching again. He shook his head. “Jongin, it’s so far.”

He felt Jongin leaning closer over him, burying his face in his hair. The warmth was engulfing him, Jongin’s breath was hot on his nape. He wrapped his hands around his husband, knowing full well that he needed the support just as much as he did.

“It is,” Jongin agreed, and his voice was nothing but a broken whisper blending with the deafening silence as they just held each other tighter.

“Hey, dad, what’s u-...oh, !”

“Language!” Kyungsoo turned to throw Jisu a sharp look just as his son barged into Jongin’s office. He watched as Jisu hurriedly averted his gaze from the young model on the little podium in the centre of the office, surrounded by all the editors of VOGUE and by countless racks of clothing.

The boy was about Jia’s age, maybe a little younger, a rising new talent Jongin had stumbled upon at one of Yixing’s events where his mother had brought him along. Chenle, was it? Along with Karina, he had become a regular at VOGUE’s run-throughs, a familiar face in the magazine’s latest issues.

“Why are you here so early?” Jongin questioned Jisu, but his eyes were pinned on the striped shirt Krystal was holding out towards the model, who was just standing there, looking a little bored as the editors fought over which clothes to put him in. “I don’t like the colour of the stripes on this. And they’re too wide. Who the hell sent this?”

“Balenciaga,” Baekhyun supplied from the side. “We also have some Prada shirts, we can try with those.”

“Yes. Bring them. And get the jackets too, I want to see what we have.”

Kyungsoo motioned for Jisu to move back to Jongin’s desk, and the boy just rounded it casually, like he had so many times before. He was keeping his eyes pinned to the ground.

“Well?”  Jongin turned then, and his eyebrows were raised. “Why are you here so early? I thought you were at Chanyeol’s studio.”

“I was, but then his manager called and he had to drop me off earlier and go to the label to sign some stuff-“

“What stuff,” Baekhyun chided from the side. Jongin had to snap his fingers and remind him they were waiting for the jackets. Still.

“Just sit tight,” Jongin ended up nodding towards Jisu. “We’re almost ready. You can get started on your homework while you wait.”

Jisu tried to mask the groan he let out, but it got drowned out in the symphony of Krystal’s complains when Baekhyun dragged out the jackets anyways. That they did not match, and that the combination was, in her words, horrendous.

Jongin seemed to hesitate for a few moments, before telling Baekhyun to put the boy in the shirt and jacket anyways. After all these years, Kyungsoo still didn’t know if Jongin genuinely disagreed with Krystal or if he always did it intentionally just to piss her off. The thought made him smile down at his notes.

He didn’t have much to do today. The options for the run-through were rather limited, contracts with only few brands to take care of. He was standing there, taking notes of the chosen combinations so they’d avoid any mix-ups. He was trying to pay attention, but he was getting distracted by his son sitting in Jongin’s throne-like chair. The boy was shuffling, eyes lingering on Chenle as he was changing from one outfit to another. Then, as if he was catching himself staring, he’d look away suddenly, a pink tinge painting his cheeks. His fingers would restlessly start playing with a random pen on Jongin’s desk, before his eyes would involuntarily move back to the model. And repeat.

Kyungsoo cocked his head a little. His little boy. It had never occurred to him that Jisu was not so little anymore. He was fifteen, almost sixteen. He was the exact same age Kyungsoo had been when he’d started crushing on the hot senior in his own high school, Minho.

But Jisu was his little boy. He was so different from his older sister. Jia was loud, outgoing, sociable. Jisu was not. He was shy, closed off. Until recently, he’d also been, quite literally, little. Scrawny, tiny. Kyungsoo didn’t know exactly when and how it had happened, but Jisu was almost as tall as he was now, towering over Jia. He was getting bigger, bulkier. His voice was deeper. He was slowly becoming a man, leaving the little, scrawny boy with scraped knees behind.

So it was hard to accept that he would be developing an interest in other people. Attraction. It was only normal, Kyungsoo supposed as he watched Jisu’s eyes sneaking back towards the model on the podium. But it was hard to comprehend. He had been so preoccupied worrying about Jia and her changing boyfriends, that he hadn’t really paid much attention to Jisu and what he was going through.

He suddenly felt like a very ty father. But judging by Jia’s negative reaction when him and Jongin had tried talking to her about all that stuff, about her weirded-out expression and reluctance to talk to them, he supposed cornering Jisu and forcing him to open up about it would not be the best idea. He had to talk to Jongin about it later.

“Alright, let’s wrap it up,” Jongin clapped his hands, and he looked tired. He reached up to rub at his eyes as his editors started moving at once, gathering the different clothing racks. “Krystal, confirm the locations for the August shoot and submit the budget inquiry to Financial. Junmyeon, you’re supervising the shoot, so get your team ready. And get Minseok! I don’t want to ever see a disaster like that last time you hired someone else without my permission, the photos were weird and distasteful. And I will need all articles on my desk by Wednesday, I’m leaving for New York this weekend, so I want to get everything done by Friday.”

The editors were nodding, scrambling out of the room one after another.

“I’m meeting Yixing for lunch, he’ll probably want to see you two as well,” Baekhyun heaved a dramatic sigh. “He’ll probably want to see Chanyeol too, and, quite frankly, I want to see him too. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go check on my husband dearest, before he does something stupid and accidentally signs another contract that binds his body and soul to that demonic label for another seven years.”

Before anyone could respond, Baekhyun had stormed out of the room, carrying all his chaotic bad energy with himself.

Jongin reached up to rub at his eyes again, before pulling the glasses down from his head. He leaned back against his desk.

“The interview with Rose-“

“Already in your inbox,” Kyungsoo smiled, and Jongin looked at him like he was the biggest treasure on Earth.

Kyungsoo’s eyes traced back to Jisu, and he caught his son once again ogling the model. Chenle was putting his own hoodie back on, and he threw Jisu an amused glint with a flirty smile before hopping off the podium. Jisu seemed to have some trouble breathing as he watched the model strutting out of the room.

Then, as if sensing that someone was looking at him, Jisu’s eyes shot up and met Kyungsoo’s. He rai