They don't have much of a garden, really; the estate agent made a big hoo-ha about the fact that there was one, and neglected to mention just how small it was until they were standing in it. 'Still big enough for a barbecue!', they'd said, all forced cheerfulness. Yixing had had to dig Jongdae in the ribs to keep the comments from spilling out. As if barbecues were likely – they live in England, for chrissakes.

Still, it's a little patch of greenery all their own, and Jongdae had been very insistent about having somewhere for Shang to play outside. He'd loved his garden as a child, and was desperate to make sure Shang had a swing, because – in his own words – 'it's not a childhood if you don't think you're flying at least once.' Yixing found that statement a little too sweet to ignore, even if he did gag a little at the tweeness of it all.

And today, there's actually some sun – the man on the radio had been very shocked when he announced it – so Yixing covers Jongseok's fluffy hair with a hat, slathers suncream on every exposed surface of his son's skin, and bundles him out into the garden. They're supposed to be at a picnic with the members of their toddler gym class, but Yixing accidentally-on-purpose overslept and called in sick.

It's not that he doesn't like the class (who doesn't like fun with brightly coloured climbing frames?), it's just that this particular group of yummy-mummies scares him, because they're all middle-class. They stage-whisper words like 'homoual', use darling non-ironically, and shop at Waitrose. He does none of these things, and can only nod along nervously when they talk about the fashionable places they live in. They also seem to consider him an honorary 'mummy', which irritates him because he might be a partially-stay-at-home-dad, but that doesn't mean he's a woman – he's a man, goddammit, and he'd like to be treated like one. The very idea is homophobic, and it's not like Jongseok doesn't have a mother, anyway, because as soon as Kyungmi saw him, it was all 'Come to mummy, baby!'

He's just too afraid of them to say all of this out loud. But if they ask him for fashion advice one more time, or refer to Jongdae as the man of the house (a laughable idea), he's going to shoot something. Or just stop going to the class. Which is probably the more likely alternative, but he likes to pretend he's unpredictable enough to actually shoot somebody.

He's watched too many action movies.

There is one mother who isn't a Stepford Wife clone, but they've kind of been on the outs since her daughter beat Jongseok over the head with a toy train, so he's decided, on balance, that they didn't need the excess social interaction. But now he feels guilty, so to counteract the bad karma, he's finally going to re-pot the collection of tomato plants they have growing on the window-sill, and give Jongseok a good dose of vitamin D.

And maybe sunbathe. But that's not him being lazy – it's a well-earned break.

***

He sets up the old sun-lounger Jongdae optimistically bought for that one trip to the seaside (it rained all the goddamn time they were there, so he didn't actually get to use it) and settles Jongseok down on it with a sippy-cup of juice. “Bàba's going into the garage for a minute, baby, so you just sit tight for a bit, okay?” He leans down to press a kiss on the top of the little green cap, and sends a prayer to any deity willing to listen, so that Jongseok won't toddle off into the neighbour's garden like he did yesterday.

If he does it again, he's not going to be able to convince them they're responsible parents, this time. Still, it's better than the couple who live on the opposite side, because the wife likes to glare at him every time he takes Shang to school and mutter about homouals raising children being against God.

Sometimes he wonders what it would be like to have nice neighbours.

***

The garage is dark, musty, and absolutely full of rubbish – like most garages. However, there is one space not taken up by the mountain of old junk, and this is where they keep the things for gardening. They do have a lawnmower, but neither of them are particularly keen gardeners, so they really only mow the lawn when the grass is so high that Jongseok disappears when running in the garden.

Still, it doesn't mean Yixing can't re-pot those tomato plants. He's sure they had a couple of plastic tubs left over from Jongdae's weird phase in which he wanted to start growing petunias, but they don't seem to be here. Which really throws a wrench in his plans, because he can't be bothered to go all the way to B&Q, especially as they'll have to take the Tube.

And taking Jongseok on the Tube is a lesson in self-control as it is, he doesn't want to put himself through the trauma of taking a two year old on a stuffy, overcrowded train, when he'll just try to run through the doors every time it stops at a station. The looks people give him.

It's not his fault he can't control his son. No one can, not even Kyungmi, and she can stop Shang in the middle of a tantrum by just saying his name a certain way. He's never quite gotten the hang of that little trick, but then again, he's never been able to exude anger or contempt with just one look the way Kyungmi can.

Oh, well. He was never going to be a master-gardener, and the plants still have a couple of inches of space before they all congeal into one big mass of leaves.

He shuts the garage door, waving away a couple of flies and wrinkling his nose. They really need to do something about the smell in there, but that requires cleaning the entire garage, and they're both a little nervous about the colony of spiders that no doubt live there. Disturbing spiders is never a good idea. Especially when the massive ones cause Jongdae to reach the highest note in his vocal range without even trying.

“Jongseok?” He calls, hoping to stop his son in the middle of any sneaky plans he had to walk into the neighbour's garden. “I hope you're behaving!” A futile hope, but he is the optimist of the family.

The only answer he gets in return is a tiny giggle. His blood runs cold, because giggles never mean anything good unless he's in the middle of tickling him and he is therefore trapped by his hands.

“Jongseok?” He calls again, this time sounding a little unsure. He dusts his hands off on his jeans, tugging his wife-beater straight. “I'm coming now.”

His two-year-old is not in the garden. Oh god. Oh , – please don't let him be in next door's garden, please don't let him be in next door's garden –

He's in next door's garden. He can see his tiny little troublemaker climbing over next door's perfectly pruned flowerbeds, and he knows what he's up to. Oh god.

He's heading for the water feature.

***

It's an acutely awkward moment; societal convention states that he should never, ever set foot in a neighbour's garden without consent, but how is he supposed to get his child if he doesn't? He's frozen in place, staring at Jongseok making his slow, steady ascent towards the tacky statue.

“Jongseok, come back now!” He hisses, afraid the neighbours will hear them. He's furious, stressed, and a little bit worried because the pool underneath the statue looks like it might be just enough water to drown a toddler. “Jongseok, come on,” he pleads, and begins to mentally run through his list of bribes that work with his second child.

“Hi, daddy!” Jongseok grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes – the one he swears he inherited from Jongdae – and deliberately sets about climbing up the decorative rocky base. Little .

Okay. There's nothing for it. He's going to have to go in, and hope to god next door are out or something. Why couldn't they have just fixed their damn fence? Then his children wouldn't be tempted to cause mayhem. Well, they would. It would just be contained in their garden, and not anyone else's.
 

Crossing the invisible boundary that separates the gardens is almost physically painful, but as soon as he manages it, he's launching himself at Jongseok, ready to tie him up in his high-chair for the rest of the day.

But – of course – the crafty little bastard dodges his hold, causing him to pitch head-first into the pretend Grecian statue, arms flailing wildly. Over the intense pain in his head, he can hear Jongseok's cackling, and just when he thinks it can't get any worse, a tiny crackling noise can be heard.

Please don't let that be – “ing hell!” He has to hold back a scream as the granite head crashes down into his back. He's having trouble breathing, and he knows he's been winded, which is just what he needs when he has an errant toddler on the loose.

Jongseok seems to find this all very funny, and when he manages to crane his neck to look at him, he is sat in the middle of the pool as the waterfall cascades over his head. He's soaked, but he's delighted by the water and, seeing his father's gaze, waves cheerfully before using both hands to send a wave of water splashing over him.

He wants to cry. What did he do in a past life to deserve this?

It's an effort to get up, and he feels like his back is going to collapse in on itself, but they need to get out of this damned garden before they're found. He stretches, back popping in agony as he attempts standing up. “Right.” He regains his breathing for a moment. “You are going to listen to me for once in your short life – ”

But, of course, Jongseok's already gone. He looks around wildly for a moment, before spotting him bending over the fallen head of the statue. Damp little hands attempt to pry it off the ground, and Yixing swears he can feel a heart attack coming on. “Jongseok, no – ”

“Just what is going on?” His heart stops. They've been seen. “What on earth are you doing in my garden and – ” Mr. Next Door gasps when he sees the extent of the damage to his beloved garden. Yixing can only cringe silently. “What did you do?” He says accusingly.

Yixing would love to point out that it was all Jongseok's fault, but that actually makes him look worse, so he chokes out the words “Accident, so sorry,” and readies himself for the onslaught of abuse.

His son, however, appears to have other ideas. Too small to lift the head up, he's taken to kicking it aggressively and when next door spots him, his eyebrows disappear into his hair. “Can't you stop your son from vandalising my garden?”

The honest answer is no, but he can't say that out loud. “Jongseok, stop,” he growls, just wishing for a hole to swallow him up.

Jongseok only smiles impishly, before shaking his head and shouting “NO!” at the top of his voice, completely ignoring Yixing's rules about inside voices and leaving Mr. Next Door aghast. He turns on his heel and runs.

It seems that as soon as Jongseok learned to walk, he was running. Yixing supposes that Jongseok – already having shown himself to be wilful – was only ever going to walk when he felt like it, and having learnt that walking meant an easy way to escape from daddy, eagerly took to running. He regularly thanks god for the invention of toddler reins – a socially-acceptable way to handcuff your child, all for the low, low price of seven quid!

Only now, there are no toddler reins. Just a scene of total and utter destruction and excruciating embarrassment. He throws one glance at his neighbour before sprinting in the direction of his own garden. “We'll pay for the damage, I promise!” He yells over his shoulder, as he rugby-tackles Jongseok to the ground.

They should have just gone to the ing picnic.

***

From: Xing-is-the-best<3

To: Jongdae

We're going to need to move house immediately.

From: Jongdae

To: Xing-is-the-best<3

Er, why...?

Btw, when the did you change your name in my contacts?

From: Xing-is-a-

To: Jongdae

Jongseok.

I did it last night. Don't you like it? ;D

From: Jongdae

To: Xing-is-a-

...no more explanation needed.

No.

From: Xing-is-a-

To: Jongdae

Yep. So I'm going to look stuff up online...

You do really. I know you do. You love me. ;P

From: Jongdae

To: Xing's--is-mine

...shut up.

So my internet is gone and I was bored...so I was finally able to write! Inspired by the fact our fence was blown down by a storm and next door's little girl kept coming into our ing garden.