Minho could barely sleep that whole week.

                The calendar in the kitchen was covered in red X’s, covering any other possible reminder or minor holiday. Luckily, him and Taemin only had a single date in mind.

                Every evening, they’d sit down at the counters and place the pages down gently, taking a deep breath as they crossed off another day.

                “Four more.” Taemin whispered, tracing invisible designs onto the elder’s arm.

                “Only four. It’s been, what? Two years?”

                “Yup. Do you think it was worth the wait?”

                “Definitely.” He smiled, staring at a photograph that was held to the fridge door by blue cloud magnets.

                “I know he’s not our kid, but I have to say, he looks a lot like you. It’s crazy. If you got some girl pregnant while we were together and he was the result, I’d believe it.”

                “You know I wouldn’t do that…”

                “I know, I know, but look, he looks identical to you.”

                “He’ll be ours soon… Our little Yoogeun. Do you think he’ll love us like we already love him?”

                “I’m sure of it.”

                Thumb running over their son-to-be’s face, Minho’s cheeks grew sore, permanent smile showing no signs of disappearing anytime soon.

                “Four days, Kitten. Just four.”

                “Two years later, and now there’s four days left.”

                Three days were left, then two, then one.

                It was three in the morning where Taemin finally walked into the living room, drowsy, half asleep, in his pajamas with a blanket he dragged all the way from their bed upstairs draped around his shoulders.

                “Honey… let’s go to bed…” He managed, noticing the five empty cups of coffee surrounding the elder, whose limp body stretched across the length of the sofa.

                “Go back to sleep, Kitten… I can’t sleep anyways… there’s no use tossing and turning, keeping both of us awake… you know? Tomorrow is an important day so please… rest up…”

                “Tomorrow is an important day so you need to sleep… you don’t want your child’s first impression of you to be a sickly looking guy who can’t take care of himself… and you’re only tossing and turning because you’re on a couch and not in bed… Come on…” He adamantly dictated, pulling Minho onto his weak legs, guiding him up to their room.

                Laying him down and tucking him in, Taemin knew Minho was lying about what he said just moments earlier because the second he got comfortable, he fell into a heavy sleep. Glad to see his overworked husband getting some sleep, the younger boy cuddled up beside him, enjoying the remaining few hours of darkness.

                This was the day. This was the day and Minho regretted not taking Taemin’s advice and going to sleep earlier.

                He stood in front of the mirror, looking himself up and down. Dress pants and a comfortable button down shirt. Looking as good as he possibly could in his current state, he glanced over at the younger boy who donned a similar outfit.

                Reminded of the nausea by strange and unwanted contractions in his stomach, he sighed. “I don’t feel good.”

                “It’s just because you’re really nervous. Besides, you didn’t get a lot of sleep and you haven’t eaten your breakfast so your body is running on empty. Go eat something right now, take a few pills, and you should be fine. If not, well, that’s kind of an unfortunate coincidence that you’d fall sick today, huh?”

                Pouting he pinched Taemin’s bottom, causing him to jump, as he walked out of the room, following the plan the raven haired boy had laid out for him.

                Jogging downstairs, he dug into the already cold breakfast Taemin had made him, popping a few different pills, swallowing them with orange juice.

                While they were in frenzy, rushing back and forth, trying to find the right outfit to represent them and the right food to ease their stomachs, Jongin rolled out of bed, hair tossed, belly empty and roaring.

                “Good morning…” He yawned.

                “Hey Jongin.”

                “Are you guys going to pick up the kid?”

                “Yeah…”

                “Where’s Taemin?”

                “Probably in the bathroom.”

                “Oh. Well did he make breakfast?”

                “Yeah, it’s right over there.”

                “Big day for you guys?”

                “Yeah.” Minho nodded, smiling at the idea of how much different their life would be by midnight. Skipping the remaining small talk, he downed his tea, yelling across the apartment to find out if Taemin was ready or not.

                “I’m ready! I’m coming down!” The black haired boy shouted back in response. Moments later, there was a parroted sound of footsteps making their way down the stairs and his eyes were blessed with a huge smile. “Let’s go.” He nodded, kissing Minho on the cheek before walking over to Jongin who was slouched over his breakfast. Ruffling the younger boy’s hair, nuzzling into his neck, he gave him a kiss too, right in the center of his forehead.

                “How are you going to feel not being the baby of the family anymore?”

                “I’m twenty four, I think I’ll survive…” He pouted, although he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think of that before. He didn’t think he would be jealous of a child. He hoped he wouldn’t be jealous of a child. “See you later, Tae. Introduce me to my nephew.”

                Laughing, the boy nodded, husbands disappearing past the door.

                Taemin wished he could hold Minho’s hand. He wished he could physically comfort him with hugs and whisper ‘I love you’ instead of ‘it’ll be okay’. But he had to understand where they were, what he was and wasn’t allowed to say, and how every move would affect this, even if the minutes were counting down.

                They met a woman who led them to another one, who took them to a room, where they met a man who redirected them to another room after having them sign some more forms. After several repeats of the process, they were in a simple office, a woman and the social worker Minho knew from the earlier months.

                “Congratulations on making it this far.” They both smiled.

                “Thank you so much. You don’t know how big of a deal this is for us.”

                “Believe me, I can only imagine. So, now let me ask, are you ready to go pick up your new bundle of joy?”

                “We can hardly call him a bundle. He’s eleven. The joy part is as true as it gets though.” Minho chuckled, drying his sweaty palms on his pants. Although Minho met him before, Taemin had never laid his eyes on his future son-to-be, leaving both of their hearts racing.

                They were led out into the hall, following its length to a room at the very end, the walls made of glass, animal stickers littering the wall’s area. It reminded the elder of the children’s waiting room at the hospital and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. All he knew was that everything he’d been working towards the past two years was in there.

                The walk took forever, but each step flew by in an instant and Minho didn’t understand how both could happen at the same time.

                Still, after whatever amount of time it took for him to be standing in the doorway, he took a deep breath.

                “Yoogeun, your dad is here.” The woman announced as they walked in.

                The little boy’s gaze crossed Minho’s as he stood up. He smiled, walking over.

                The elder only looked towards Taemin for a split second, but the expression he caught was priceless. His eyes were wide and his mind seemed like it was focusing all its efforts on keeping his jaw from dropping. Little did he know, there was a lot more invisible mayhem.

                Taemin was awestruck. This boy, this- his son, he was perfect. He looked like Minho, he had beautiful eyes, his smile was heartwarming. He was such an handsome little boy and he wanted to hold him so bad. He wanted to hug him, and kiss him, and welcome him into the family. But at the same time, his hands were shaking, and he was sweaty, and he was terrified. His heart sped up tenfold and he had trouble breathing. He was so nervous. What should he do? What should he say? Should he be saying or doing anything at all? What kind of face was he making? Would he scare the kid off and make him not want to go home with them? Did the kid already know he would be his second dad? Or maybe mom? Or- God, he was drawing a blank. His mind was shutting off.

                If Minho’s voice wasn’t the cure to every problem in his life, he might not have been drawn back by hearing the elder call his name, even if it was probably for the third or fourth time.

                “…Taemin!”

                “Y-yes!?”

                “Introduce yourself to him, okay?” Minh smiled.

                Shocked, Taemin shook his head as subtly as possible. He couldn’t do it, not in this state. Couldn’t they just take him home and they’d do it there?

                Still, Minho encouraged him, patting his back. Swallowing, Taemin took a deep breath.

                “Nice to meet you, Yoogeun…” He attempted in his calmest voice, “I-I’m- My name is Taemin. I’ll be living with you s-so-”

                “Dad told me about you already.” The boy shyly interrupted, “Is it true that you always make really good food?”

                Taemin blushed, shrugging, “W-well I try my best… I don’t know if my cooking is amazing, but I definitely put all my effort into making the meals.”

                “Then what’s going to be for dinner tonight?”

                “I didn’t know what you like s-so I thought I’d start off with something simple l-like spaghetti and then watermelon shapes for dessert…”

                “I only had spaghetti once before.” Yoogeun admitted, “I think I liked it. It was a while ago, so I don’t remember. It wasn’t spicy. Is yours spicy?”

                “It’s not spicy.” He said.

                Looking over the situation, both of the women backed off with a, “We’ll give you a few minutes alone. We’ll just go get the final papers.” And so they disappeared.

                Following the other two’s actions, Taemin sat down. Wow. This kid was actually kind of his son now. He was going to raise this kid. This kid will be his, although not by law, forever.

                “What do you like t-to do for fun?” He blurted out. Was that a stupid question? Maybe it was a stupid question. The age difference between them was only fourteen year. Hell, even Minho was only sixteen years older than the child he was now the parent of. If they had him biologically, they’d be really young parents. Taemin could even imagine being in a serious enough relationship with Minho when he was fourteen years old that he would decide to have children. They’d been together for nine years now and only three years ago did they decide they were ready for a child. Six years… he would have had to be with Minho since he was eight for them to have a child that fourteen. Was he overcomplicating this?

                “I like to draw a lot. I don’t know if I’m really good though. Girls have neater handwriting, so maybe I’m only good for a boy.” Yoogeun began, going on a rant about how subjective art was and although he thought he was good, maybe he wasn’t in other’s eyes.

                “You know, Minho, your, um, dad… he’s a photographer. He took art in high school and university for a few years. Maybe you two could draw something once.”

                “For you?”

                Taemin smiled at the idea. “Well, it doesn’t have to be for me-”

                “I can draw you something right now.” Yoogeun decided, walking over to a basket in the corner of the room, pulling out a slightly crumpled piece of paper and a small pack of eight crayons. Dropping everything onto the table, sitting on the floor, he became completely concentrated.

                They admired him, Minho’s hand sneakily finding an easily excusable, subtle way to put had palm on Taemin’s lower back, rubbing circles with his thumb. “See?” He whispered, “I told you that you guys would get along.”

                A few, silent minutes later, Taemin was presented a paper, a piece of art. “I drew you as a deer. You remind me of a deer. The kind on the nature channel. You can tell it’s you because I gave it your hair, see?” He explained.

                It was probably one of the weirdest interpretations of himself he’d ever seen but gosh he fell in love with it right away. “Thank you so much. Is it okay if I put it up on the fridge when we get home?”

                “Yeah, it’s okay.” The boy happily nodded, proud of the accomplishment. This would be his first time having something ‘on the fridge when he got home’.

                “Dad, do you want me to draw you too?”

                Minho’s heart melted at the word. He was finally a father. “Yeah. I’d love that.” He managed, barely getting the words out through his grin as he watched the boy go back to his station. They both made a mental note of buying him some paints, crayons, and notebooks on the way home.

                And after they finished the remainder of the meeting, all three said their goodbyes until the next time they would meet for the first post-adoption checkup, they did just that; drive over to the art store.

                “Why are we here?” Yoogeun asked, walking between the pair as they entered through the automatic doors.

                “We didn’t really know what you’d like so besides the basics, your room doesn’t have much… um… Why don’t you grab some things you want?” Taemin explained.

                “Can I get a pencil?”

                “Sure,” He nodded, “You can get a pack of pencils, some paints, some brushes… construction paper, a few notebooks… Just whatever you want.”

                “Really?!” He gasped.

                “Yeah, of course.”

                “Wow… usually I only get twenty dollars whenever we go to the store and then even if I buy my own things, I have to share with the other kids.”

                “Well this is all yours.” Minho confirmed, handing him a basket, “Go crazy.”

                “Thanks!” Yoogeun chirped, jogging into the nearest kid’s crafts aisle.

                Taemin’s permanent smile faded for a single second as he glanced around, making sure no one else was looking before his stole a quick kiss from his husband. “I love you. He’ll love you really fast.”

                “He’ll love you too.”

                “Maybe as that distant uncle at family gatherings.”

                “Nonsense. He’ll love you as much as me if not more.”

                “We won’t be able to kiss or act lovey dovey around him. You know that, right? We can’t be husbands in front of him.”

                “Why not?”

                Taemin sighed, shaking his head. “He’s eleven, Minho. He already has a preconceived idea about love and who can love each other. Besides, even if we do tell him, the social workers still can’t know. We’ll be meeting them three times in the next year. What if he lets it slip by accident? Or says it on purpose? There goes your dream child.”

                It made sense, which annoyed Minho because he couldn’t necessarily argue it. “We’ll… tell him someday though. Even if we try, we can’t hide it forever.”

                “We can try.”

                Their conversation was interrupted by their son, an overflowing basket in his hands. “I think I’m done.”

                The next week was busy. All of their friends stopped by, bringing gifts of all sorts. Yoogeun was definitely loving it. And everyone was welcome, on one condition. They never mentioned Taemin and Minho being anything more than close friends. Luckily for them, all their friends understood, keeping their secret.

                Yoogeun felt a little intimidated in the new environment, but within time, they developed a schedule and he eased into his new life.

                In the summer, he woke up at eight and the rest of the day was a surprise, but once school started, that’s when everything fell into place. He would wake up at seven, have breakfast by seven thirty, be dressed by eight. By eight thirty, he was usually in school. Then, after school, Taemin would pick him up and drive him home where they would have a small meal. They would be the only ones there until six. That’s when Jongin and Minho came home from work. Around seven, they’d have a proper dinner. After Yoogeun finished his homework, they’d hang out, doing whatever he wanted.

                Yoogeun quickly decided that this was the best place he could ever call home. He fell in love with the people, a place he could call his own, his new classmates, everything he was given and all he could give, which mostly ended up being drawings that found their way onto walls, corkboards, and the kitchen surfaces.

                As the months went by and the visits with the social worker grew far more sparse, he started forgetting his life at the orphanage. He knew that he was there and for many years, but what was he doing all the time he was alone? He didn’t draw that much and he didn’t have many friends there, so how did he pass time? It went by so quickly here and he was always occupied. How many hours did he spend every day just staring at the walls? Did he know he was missing this?

There was also another change that came with time. Calling Minho dad also became second nature.

“Dad, I need this-”

“Dad, I want this-”

“Dad, can I have this-”

“Dad, can we go there-”

“Dad, can you help me with-”

Dad, dad, dad, dad,  and dad.

It was pretty normal. He liked having Minho as his dad. It was better than having no dad. But then he realized something. Working on another one of his now-famous drawings in his room, he wondered about a mom. He had one before, one whose face had already faded in his earliest memories. One who didn’t want him.

He got a new dad, one to replace the one who didn’t want to be hid dad, but what about his mom? He didn’t have a new one. Was that important? All of his friends had moms. Was it okay that he didn’t? Did that even matter?

So on that one Saturday morning, while everyone else was asleep and he was still in his pajamas, at his desk, trying to recreate the images in his dream, he pulled back and looked towards the door. On a whim, he shouted.

“Mom!”

He waited a few seconds. Nothing. So he tried again.

“Mom!”

Still nothing. He decided to give it one last shot before giving up on the stupid idea. Just as he was about to scream for the third time, lips pouting, vocal chords ready, the ‘m-’ already escaping his mouth, the door opened, leaving him to finish the ‘-om’ in his usual, quiet voice, taking on a surprised tone.

Taemin stood there, hair in a complete mess, loose pajamas barely hanging off of his thin frame, clearly torn from sleep and out of breath. “Yes, sweetheart…?” He croaked.

‘Huh… how weird.’ Yoogeun thought to himself, cheeks heating up, growing embarrassed by his actions and their consequences. “M-mom… I… um… I’m drawing something from my dream and I need your opinion on a colour…” He began explaining, flustered as Taemin stumbled towards him and sat down. Where was he going with this? “In my dream, this one guy,” He pointed at a man on his page, all coloured in except for the shirt, “He had a shirt that looked like these colours… it was kind of a similar colour to both but also a bit different from each one as well… I-I can’t put my finger on it s-so… which colour do you think I should use between these two? I-it’s an emergency because if I forget my dream, I won’t be able to even remember if the shirt was green or brown…” He lied, sliding two shades of purple towards the elder for examination. Who cares about the colours of the shirt?

Taemin looked at them though, and he looked at them with all the determination he could muster at the god forsaken hour. “This one.” He decided, opting for the lighter shade. “The pants are dark so you might as well make the shirt light.” He explained.

Nodding hesitantly, Yoogeun bit his lip, wondering if he was too old to give kisses on the cheek. He twelve and that was pretty old for anything, let along kisses on the cheek. Maybe today could be an exception though. Maybe Taemin wouldn’t remember it anyways because he was half conscious and ready to go back to sleep.

So taking a deep breath, he leaned in, softly pecking the elder’s face. Deeply embarrassed, he nodded. “Th-thanks mom…”

Taemin looked shocked at first, although more at the kiss than the word, which left Yoogeun bewildered. He soon got a kiss back. One on the forehead which was coupled with his hair being messed up by thin fingers. “No worries. Hey, since I’m already awake, I might as well make breakfast. What do you want?”

“Pancakes with strawberries?”

“Pancakes with strawberries it is.” Taemin nodded, stealing another kiss before walking out of the room, once again leaving Yoogeun to his own devices.

Amazed by the exchange, the boy smiled, going back to his drawing. Maybe he had it a lot better than he realized, which was strange because he thought he was already on cloud nine. Scraping his current paper, he grabbed a fresh sheet, starting anew.

This time he drew a pale man with black hair and dark eyes. He was thin and average height, about twenty-eight years old. He was pretty for a man and wore pajamas that barely managed to hang off of his frame. Right in the corner, he wrote a “For: Mom”.  Taemin told him he bought a whole new pack of magnets so that they could hang more of Yoogeun’s drawing up everywhere. Maybe this could be the first drawing to be hung with the new magnets.

Looking towards the kitchen’s general direction, where a single person worked on a meal so early in the morning, he shouted once more.

“Mom!”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Can I have orange juice with my pancakes?”

“Yes!”

“Thanks mom!”

“You’re welcome!”

“I made you something just now. I’ll show you after breakfast though. And only you can see it. It’s a surprise, okay?”

He heard Taemin’s soft laugh echo throughout the first floor. “Okay.”

Yoogeun was happy.