Jun was still deep asleep on his baby seat when our car pulled up in front of my parent's house. I sighed a bit as i stretched my tired arms, taking off my seatbelt before finally spared a glance at the rearview mirror and saw Kibum was still staring out of the window from the middle seat, looking distracted.

I knew he really didn't want to do this. To go here.

But it's my father's 60th birthday. There would be a close family gathering to celebrate. And since I was his only son and our relationship was getting a little better, well.... I guessed I had to go.

Not to mention that my father had already invited Jun himself the last time he came to our house, too.

And Jun, of course, at hearing the word *gifts*—eventhough it was my father's and not his birthday—was already so very really excited to go, and kept asking us when will go to grandpa's house and open presents on an infuriating hourly basis.

So, that's why we're here now.

Jun passed out just a little while ago because he was too hyperactive since so early in the morning. Knock-knock-knocking on our door at four thirty and interrupting our 'morning wrestle'.

Kibum had to hide under the cover because he wasn't even near presentable with nothing on. I, at least, had my boxer near enough to get and put it on—despite the obvious protruding bulge—before I opened the door and carried Jun away from our room, to the big window in the living room so we could see the sunrise, letting Kibum had the time to calm his nerves down while I listened to Jun's too-happy-in-the-morning babbling, then lied about his Papa was still asleep when he asked. Heh.

When Kibum finally came out, wearing wifebeater and soft shortpants, still a bit sweaty and red, giving both Jun and I a peck on the lips, before going to the pantry to make our breakfast, I asked him again if he really wanted to go today.

Kibum only rolled his eyes at me then said "Of course," with a sarcastic tone. Before he sighed to himself then explained that he'd go because of Jun. And because he didn't want everyone else to think he was a coward or didn't have enough respect for me—and my parents—to show up.

Kibum was still a little out of it even after we got out of the car, carrying the as-blank-faced Jun that just woke up in one hand and the baby bag in the other hand while i took our stacks of presents from the car back door.

I bought a new automatic fishing rod—with a manual in Korean—for my father. And Kibum, while seemed uncaring, actually was thoughtful enough to buy him a new designer sweater. Because he said he noticed that my father kept wearing the same one everytime they met on this chilly fall.

(I realized it too, that in spite of holding such an important position in his company, my father nearly never splurged on clothes or branded shoes or things like that.)

Jun himself participated in picking cheesecake—and pralines and candies—he liked for his grandpa.

We walked in silence to the front door. A nervous silence.

Because the last time we were here, the two of us, we got out with trembling hands, broken egos, torn hopes and an aching bloody bruise on Kibum's jaw.

It was a painful memory and I saw that Kibum held Jun a little bit closer to his chest as we took the steps. I knew that he was scared—tho maybe just by a bit—but keeping a tough façade for me.

God. It made me really want to hug them both right that moment. Especially Kibum. My strong, beautiful, brave partner Kim Kibum.

But the presents and the baby bags got in the way of our hands so I knew I had to supress that urge.

And finally, the moment of truth. I rang the bell as soon as we stepped on the welcome mat, knocked twice on the door, then waiting the dripping seconds in eerie silence like it was the count down to the end of the world as I knew it.

When the doorknob moved in front of me, I was holding my breath and looked up as it's finally being pulled open. 

It was my mother. Dressed in a plain white knee-length dress and a longsleeves cardigan that made her look smaller than I remembered.

I saw that her eyes grew so big upon seeing us right after. Then she stared at us, scanned us from top to bottom like she was seeing ghosts.

Ghosts that were an older version of his long-lost son, his partner of a sinner and a little boy that resembling them both.

Then, still glaring with a frightened eyes, she stuttered, calling my father. Suddenly looking so pale like she was about to be sick as she called and called my father louder.

When my father showed up, he was frowning and asking what's wrong to my mother, but then he saw us on the door, and he finally didn't say anything to her.

Instead, he took a step forward a little more then holding his arm out to Kibum so he could carry Jun.

As my father went in just like that with our son, kind of neglecting my mother as he walked past her, my mother really seemed like she'd faint any second.

And that was when I found out that my father never told my mother anything.

*

My mother was not talking to me nor to Kibum. Also not to my father. So I knew she was angry at us all. Tho I noticed she couldn't help but to keep glancing to the bubbly Jun, that was sitting on my father's lap on the living room couch now, reading a children pop-up book in korean language together.

Whenever my father came to our house, oftenly every once a week, he always helped Jun learning his korean. But after Jun had opened up to him of course, because at the beginning, the four-year-old was still all shy when my father first visited and I introduced the old man as his supposed-grandpa.

But they were already close now, to the point that even I still couldn't believe it.

I took a soundless deep breath as I tried to find Kibum. He was attempting to help my mother earlier, but because my mother didn't talk to him, he asked the home assistant instead if he could lend a hand.

Kibum ended up setting the dining table, being the most artsy person in the room. And it actually started to seem like a pictorial set rather than a family dining table.

He also arranged the flower vase. Sorting out the flower that didn't blend with the ambience and putting them apart in a different vase he asked from the house assistant.

My mother couldn't protest about it too. Because she was also all into interior design. And she knew what Kibum did was like what she'd get if she was paying a pro.

So she just kept silent in the pantry, watching until Kibum's done. Still keeping the distance to us.

While I kept feeling a little... weird with the mood of everything that's happening.

Here Kibum was, finally inside the house where I grew up. With our kid. And with my parents—the parents that opposed our homouality—too. This was... unfathomable.

But before I could think more about it, the bell rang again and I knew we all would soon face the second batch of awkwardness and judgment.

*

Jun turned out to be the hot topic of the day.

I didn't really know if that's because everyone had already gotten past my abnormal uality at this point or it's just because my father didn't have many people coming to begin with.

(Those or because they'd seen my father was already kind of okay with it too.)

Today's occasion was just for close family. That meant us and the families of his two little sisters—my father was the first son of three siblings—.

I only had four paternal cousins in total. And only one above me had already gotten married (My father's first little sister got married two years earlier than him).

When they all arrived at the same time, I decided to follow my father and my mother to get up and stand near the hallway when the house assistant went to get the door, while Kibum was taking Jun to sit on the couch, staying behind, trying to calm his worries down by helping the boy coloring the book we brought from home.

To say that everyone was surprised to see me there was an understatement.

Even the aunt that had seen me before—the one that told my father about my whereabouts in Korea—seemed like she wasn't expecting me to be there.

They were polite to Kibum too when they met him, so Kibum was behaving the same. Although I knew he's thinking of trying to be a background prop so that he wouldn't stand out too much.

Then when they finally saw Jun, my aunts had to gasp simultaneously because they said it was like seeing me when I was about his age—Tho Jun's little pouty lips was all Kibum's—. They recalled that much.

My cousins were in shock too knowing that I already had a child. A four-year-old child.

But there were no negative response so far.

So, I thought that this whole thing wasn't as bad as I expected it would be.

My aunts were really interested in Jun. Hearing that biologically, he was Kibum's—after carefully seeing that my mother wasn't around—. So I told them briefly about surrogacy, when they called me t