Jongin shuffles into the kitchen in just his underwear, yawning without grace as he scratches at his lower stomach sleepily. His eyes are barely open, but he doesn’t really need sight when his body automatically pulling him to Junmyeon. The older is at the sink, cleaning the last of the dishes when the taller wraps himself around the slimmer man, slipping his arms under Junmyeon’s shirt as the paler male shivers at the cold digits skimming his warm torso.

“Stop that, your hands are cold.” Junmyeon scolds halfheartedly, laughing towards the end of his sentence when Jongin plants a sloppy kiss to the side of his head. “I swear, we’re not even married yet, yet you act like this.”

“We will be married soon, so I can act however I want.” Jongin replies haughtily, nosing into Junmyeon’s cheek only to flinch when water is flicked into his face.

“Yeah, yeah. Go wash up and I’ll have breakfast and coffee on the table.” Junmyeon laughs, turning around in Jongin’s arms and standing on the tips of his toes to peck the younger on the nose. Jongin can get used to the married life if it was like this everyday.

---

“I do.” Junmyeon breathes, gazing up at Jongin through his lashes, his tiny hands squeezing Jongin’s as the younger squeezes back in assurance. They exchange small, intimate smiles, the combined sniffling of their mothers and the occasional rustle of overstarched fabric the only sound that reaches the alter, but Junmyeon in his white tux with his black hair groomed flawlessly with those carefully concealed zits of stress that Jongin overlooks is all Jongin can see and be aware of.

“I now pronounce you as man and man. You may now kiss the groom.” The officiant announces. Jongin leans down happily so as Junmyeon grins, crying again as they press loving kisses on one another’s lips. There is applause and cheers erupting from the church pews as they finally acknowledge presence that isn’t the other’s, the newlyweds smiling widely as they wave for the pictures.

They cut the cake together, seeing as how Junmyeon slaughtered the top tier instead of cutting it. Jongin eats frosting off of Junmyeon’s nose, hardly letting the other go, not that Junmyeon seems to mind as they take to the dance floor, slow dancing with Jongin taking the leading steps. The after party was a memorable night full of cherishable memories for the both of them, from their mothers getting drunk and trying to put money into Yixing’s pants to get him to strip, to Junmyeon giving Jongin a piggyback ride to the car so they could go home and grab their luggage for their honeymoon in Paris.

---

Like any other couple, they have their fair share of spats and bickering, but a night on the couch usually sets things right, though Junmyeon sends himself to the couch rather and Jongin feels worser than it being the other way. They still live in their small, cozy house in a quiet neighborhood. It’s only a few blocks from the apartment they lived in when they were kids, the two walking through the area from time to time to reminiscence about childhood memories like the time Jongin ate a bug off of a tree (Jongin refuses to accept it but knows he’s lying), or the instance when Junmyeon ripped his pants wrestling Jongin at the playground and the other kids laughed at him, Jongin included.

---

Junmyeon cries a lot, Jongin’s noticed, but his tears are for justified reasons, the current one being hunched over his mother as he hugs her tight. She shakes against Junmyeon’s somewhat larger frame, the chipper, happy old woman now shrunken with age and struck with the grief of a widow. Junmyeon doesn’t tear his eyes away from the closed coffin, watching on solemnly as his father is lowered into the earth.

Jongin pays his respects, laying fresh cut flowers he had taken from his and Junmyeon’s garden at home.

---

“You’re sure about this?” Junmyeon asks, wanting to make sure Jongin was 100% behind their decision. He glances out of the window of their rental car warily, trying to make sense of the funny Chinese characters. “I mean, we already have Sehun.”

“As sure as I am about marrying you.” Jongin retorts pointedly, looking at Junmyeon smugly only to have the older slug him in the arm as they get out of the car, strolling to the adoption center.

---

They adopt two boys, a Chinese baby named Zitao and a Korean infant they called Sehun. They’re both very playful, active babies (well, Sehun sometimes just doesn’t care no matter how much either father coos at him), but perhaps it was because of ‘umma’ spoiling them a bit much, they are slightly bratty.

“Tao,” Jongin says in a warning tone as he bounces the toddler in his lap, Tao grunting as he attempts to pull his bib off. He has a mess of various foods on his face, the boy heavily influenced by the family dog Monggu and deciding to stick his head into his bowl instead of eat neatly like he usually does. Sehun behaves, somewhat, sitting in his high chair as he kicks his legs, making faces as he bites into his baby carrots. Jongin can’t even blink without one of the boys destroying something, that much rings true when he turns around to tell Monggu to stop dragging his on the carpet and the feeding tray of Sehun’s chair flies across the kitchen.

“Mumumumumamama.” Sehun babbles as he scoots down, ambling down his high chair and crawling out of the kitchen with Jongin hot on his heels, lifting Sehun in one arm while still holding a growling Tao in the other.

“Can’t you two behave?” Jongin cries in exasperation, he hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep in months. Sehun is still babbling as he attempts to lean over in Jongin’s arm, favoring the floor, eyes watering because he wants Junmyeon. Zitao is on the verge of bawling because he wants to eat doggie treats like Monggu as he pushes at Jongin’s face.

Junmyeon comes home from grocery shopping to the sight of his three boys crying in unison with the dog scooching its across the floor.

---

Junmyeon has been feeling ill, and despite the older trying to play it off, he can’t hide the fact he’s losing weight like crazy in a matter of months, that his energy is easily diminished by everyday tasks like sweeping the floor or gardening. His skin color is also changing despite having the same routine for the past 12 years. Junmyeon coughs a lot now, there’s a noticeable shortness in breath and often times he has to sit out when playing with the boys. Jongin also begins to see aspirins he didn’t before in the medicine cabinet.

---

Sehun feels like maybe he shouldn’t have told, seeing as how Junmyeon’s eyes widen in betrayal during dinner one evening, telling Jongin that he had seen Junmyeon cough up blood.

That was the final straw and next thing they know, Junmyeon is sitting in the patient’s seat, Jongin sitting beside him on a chair he’s pulled up as the doctor shows them diagrams of Junmyeon’s symptoms. Lung cancer.

Jongin tries to fight the possibilities, Junmeon doesn’t smoke, they don’t live in an area exposed to harmful fumes, but the quiet “my grandfather and my father had it, Jongin” is what finally quiets him.

---

Jongin and Junmyeon sit side by side together on the bench, Junmyeon’s head laying against Jongin’s shoulder as they watch Zitao and Sehun shoot each other with Nerf bullets, having a grand time picking it up before starting all over again as they run around the playground. They’re thirteen now, and although they do face the occasional bullying for having two ‘gay’ dads and being adopted (Tao gets more of it for being foreign), they stick together and don’t let it get to them. They wholeheartedly embrace the other as a brother despite not having a drop of the same blood in their veins, the same affection going out to their fathers as well. They haven’t quite grasped the concept that Junmyeon has cancer, but they are well aware he is ill and therefore do their best to aid their ailing mama who only chuckles and sends them off. He’s insistent on being as independent as long as he can.

“You have a radiation treatment tomorrow.” Jongin reminds gently, he finds himself doing that often, seeing as how Junmyeon is slowly losing his memory retainment. Junmyeon opens his mouth before closing it again. Jongin knows what he was going to say, something along the lines of ‘we should cancel it. I want to build up their college fund’ or ‘I’m stage 4...there’s no point anymore, Jongin’. Junmyeon settles for closing his eyes, humming softly.

“I love you.” He murmurs, smiling as he kisses Jongin’s cheek. It feels like a puff of air instead of lips, but Jongin no longer takes each kiss for granted as he stares down at his wan love of his life.

“I love you, too.” He smiles at Junmyeon, his own weak for a different reason as Junmyeon begins a fit of coughing. “So much.”

---

God brings home another angel when Jongin is 43. His sons are at either of his side, heads bent respectfully, but more so to hide their tears as Jongin stares into the open casket his husband is laying in. Jongin is dry, he cannot cry anymore because a majority of it had already been done when he woke up that morning just about a week ago to an ice cold Junmyeon at his side whose breath had stilled overnight.

Junmyeon had made a promise to his sons he would be there to watch them walk across the stage when they got their high school diplomas, said event only two days prior but Junmyeon had left just three days before. They cried as they walked across the stage, smiling through their tears at Jongin recording them, but crying at the empty space next to their father where another person was meant to be.

---

“Dad, we’re going to be late to my orientation.” Sehun says softly as he puts a hand on Jongin’s shoulder, gently waking his father who had fallen asleep on the couch with one of their several family photo albums in his lap. Zitao comes inside, watering can in his hand. He had made it his responsibility to care for Junmyeon’s garden in his father’s place, and perhaps he’s too attached to the plants because now like his late father, he mourns the death of the flowers he had nursed so much. And to think he used to laugh at Junmyeon for being so silly.

Jongin opens his eyes, sighing as he rubs his hand on his face. His hair is a mess and there are bags under his eyes. He sleeps on the couch instead because the bed brings too much heartache. He’s a wreck, but he’s desperately trying to stay afloat for his sons’ sake, Junmyeon’s as well, as protecting their babies was one of Junmyeon’s last wishes. He grunts, heavily lifting himself to his feet and groaning as he stretches, popping his back in the process. “19 years together and you two are finally ready to go different ways, huh.” Jongin chuckles at Sehun who smiles wanly back, glancing towards Zitao. The two were going to different universities in different towns, as much as it pained Jongin to lose even more, he’s happy his boys, no, men, were finally going out into the big world.

---

Jongin returns to Junmyeon’s grave annually, cleaning off the gravestone and presenting a bouquet of fresh-cut flowers. They are beautiful, in full-bloom and smell aromatic. They’re appealing and fragile, and they remind him of Junmyeon in every sense, more so the painful similarity of leading short-lived lives. “Our boys are so big now.” Jongin wheezes, smiling faintly as he hoists himself up, his bad knees shaking from the effort. He’s an old man now, somewhere in his late sixties. “Zitao married a pretty girl and they are planning a child. ” He smiles distantly at the memory of Zitao calling home, telling him of the news. He mindlessly runs his thumb over the smooth wood of his walking stick, squinting his eyes at the stone. Age has claimed most of his eyesight, as well as the beautiful chocolate color they used to be when they twinkled with affection for his partner. “Sehun is doing good in medical science too. His new project cured a little girl with cancer. Proud of our boys, really.” Jongin stands still at the stone, smiling to himself for a long time before remembering he wouldn’t get a response. "I miss you." He whispers as he holds his lower back, ambling out of the cemetery.