a/n: THIS IS LEE DONGHAE'S FAULT.

The first time I held you, it felt like holding half the galaxy in between my arms. Swaddled in blue, you came to me in the color of the sky. I knew that you would mean, not just the world, but the whole universe to me. You will be my Sun, the light of my day. His smile was so bright like a ray of sunshine. As you open your still sightless eyes, I see the stars twinkling back at me. Just like the stars I see when his eyes are directed at me. You...You don’t know it yet...but I love you. I love him.

As much as I love you, I hated the responsibility and the sleepless nights. You kept me up at night with your constant wailing. Lee Donghae who goes 30 knocks per minute on the door in the middle of the night and drags people out for meals in the ungodly hours of morning. Your cries leave me frustrated but your soft gurgling when you drift off to sleep calm my frayed nerves. As I rest you against my chest, the rhythm of my heart lulling you to sleep, I fall back in slumber, hoping to share in your dreams. I snuggle against the crook of his shoulder and take over half of his body as I feel the rise and fall of his breathing that calms me for sleep.

The first time I heard you say Appa, I thought you were choking. I thumped you on the back thinking that the baby food had chunks in them that went down the wrong pipe but you only gave a loud guffaw and a sticky palm landed on my left eye as you repeated earnestly, “Appa,”. I cried while you laughed at me again. Your laughter sounds like music to my ears. Someone else’s laughter used to tinkle so nicely. You finally recognize me. Finally, you can call me when in distress, when in joy, when you just—want me to pay attention to you. And oh, how much you would take all of my attention like no one else matters. The same way that he would just steal the show and leave me breathless with his kind of dazzle.

You grow so fast that I only realize it when you’re already playing in Little League football. Parents were milling about while I was focused only on your back heel, the accuracy of your push kicks, sending the ball towards the goal. The opposing team was playing dirty and trying to aim for your ankles but I hope to God you won’t get hurt (yes you’re a big boy but I still worry) and a quick field pass before—GOAL!!! You throw your arms up and your face glows with such victory. I see how you charge towards me and jump in my arms, clinging so sweetly as you repeat over and over again, “I did it! I did it! Appa! I did it!” You would not let go of me, arms locked tight around me and I walk us back and forth and in circles, just hugging. Your win is my pride as well. The game was so simple but for someone who didn’t get so much free passes at life, he was so happy winning in his miniature football game too. And we walked just like this, clinging endlessly, his victory was my pride.

I catch you watching the dance crew out on the park, obviously fascinated with their break dancing and those smooth moves. You turn to me with those eyes (you got my eyes and now I know why everyone fell at my feet), “Appa, teach me how to dance,” For you, a thousand times: yes. Once upon a time, in a room covered with clouds, I discovered not only the art of dancing but one of the greatest secrets Life had for me. He came in stomping into my world, gangly and unsure, became this force as the music roseto a crescendo as his body conversed with the music.

You were quickly becoming the kind of boy that fathers become wary of (even at the young—ok, Big Boy—age of ten). You are courteous, dashingly mischievous and disarming even at such a young age. Definitely the star of any show. I would know—because you turn on your charm and I just give in. Your eyes still glisten like stars and you are as bright as a sunbeam streaming on a cloudless day. You are still my universe. Every hardened day is soothed just by the thought of coming home to the tinkling laughter and the sunbeam smile that you direct at me.

Standing nervously next to me, you are restless, fingers fidgeting in time to the recent song you’ve been dancing to. “You think he’ll like me?” You asked, trying to act cool and nonchalant. I nod because I am as nervous as you. We haven’t seen each other in such a long time. And time is nothing but unforgivable to relationships that have been put aside for bigger things—like starting a family, choosing a career.

“You know, when I was younger...Korea had shrunk between three places for me: our dorm, the company and the airport. I remember going to this place more times than in your grandmother’s home in Mokpo,” I say, trying to calm both of our nerves. You rock back on your heels, trying to make out the flight announcements. “Girls of all ages used to wait just like what we’re doing now,” You snort at this, disbelieving that your father was once the bees’ knees with the girls.

The overhead speaker dings again and in some kind of warped dimension, the announcement rings louder in my ear as it says that the flight from Los Angeles has arrived. We both stare at each other, your eyes reflecting excitement while mine hopefully hid the cold fear that started to drip like a bucket of ice water they used to dump on me during concerts.

A few more nerve-wracking moments, the automated doors open and people start to walk out from the other side. I am afraid that he will be unrecognizable but then again, I never mistook him for anyone else, never missed seeing him.

“I see him!!!” Darn it. So much for not missing when you found him first. You frantically jump up and down, waving your arms wildly and I couldn’t find it in myself to be embarrassed because he would like acting so goofily in the airport. Especially when he terrorized unsuspecting fans and non-fans walking out in full Marilyn Monroe attire.

He walks towards us and I think it is I who needs their hand to be held because I don’t know if I have enough countenance and composure in me to not just bowl over and crack my skull open as everything around me conspire to make me sick. The air feels heavy and thick, my blood runs hot and cold and my limbs are quaking. I did not feel you leaving my side.

He still looks as breath-taking as he once was. Even when he had such bad hair and even worse fashion choices, even when he spent ten thousand dollars on a ridiculous fur jacket—even then—he was, and still is, beautiful. Beyond belief. Like an intake of breath. Like the silence of a first snow. Like...standing on the precipice of existence.

He welcomes you with open arms. His smile is wide and pink and I know behind those sunglasses, the crow’s feet crinkling by the side of his eyes are showing. It feels like eons ago, galaxies away, that he has hugged me the way you are enfolded in his arms. Even though you are half his size, he rests his chin by your shoulders like so and hugs your waist tight—the same way he has always embraced me.

You both turn to me and I try to wake myself from this dream-like state. You don’t look alike but the likeness that I see is disarming. The kind that turns my muscles to jelly and my knees weak.

“It’s been a while, Hyukjae-yah,” I say stiffly. He removes his sunglasses and gives me that stare before laughter bubbles in his throat we are both laughing at each other. He pulls me in and enveloped me in his still lanky arms. We stay like this for a while, not caring that this is in the middle of airport, in broad daylight.

“Appa! Appa!” You try to wriggle in between our legs and we both look down to your pouty face. Your eyes boring into us just like I used to and those lips jutting out just like him. “I’m left out!”

He kneels next to you again, raising an arm towards you, “We won’t have any of that, won’t we? C’mere, you,” You shake your shoulders before succumbing, allowing yourself to be smothered in between his arms again, lifted in the air just like when you were young. “Hae-yah, what are you standing there for, get in here!” I immediately wrap my arms around his shoulders again with you in between. We giggle as we hug-walk in the airport.

As we separate and you are put down, I did not miss the words you say softly to him,

“Welcome home, Papa,”

DAS ENDE.

a/n: EunHae tour happened I swear I did not just. I know, I know, Donghae did not say he wanted to make babies with Hyukjae but I thought it would be a nicer ending if it ended this way. This is a dream-like sequence so I don't really feel like explaining the how and what. I'll let you use your imagination. 

I hope you liked it, though. It's my first...NOT-angst so I'm worried. But I loved writing this. Probably its as up there as Columbus. I would love to hear from youuuu~ LOVE!!