Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Appa!”

A pair of arms wrap around Yoongi’s thighs from behind. He wipes his hands unthinkingly on his apron, brushing away stray wisps of hair that had fallen out of the cap sitting snug on his head. He reaches down to scoop Miran into his arms, placing her on the clean space of the counter. In his wake, there are fingerprints of flour on her clothes, but neither of them hardly care.

Yoongi grins. “How was the party?” he asks, scrunching up his nose when Miran taps it with her index finger. “Did you give Hayoung the gift? Did she like it?”

Miran sighs in exasperation. “Of course she did!” she says, pushing against Yoongi’s chest. He moves a little, just to give her the illusion that she’s strong enough to make him. “She was really happy. And even happier when I said I made it with you.”

“I’m glad,” Yoongi says warmly, pinching Miran’s cheek with his knuckles. He glances over his shoulder, still smiling softly. “Thank you for taking her, Sejeong-ah. I’ve been so busy here.”

The woman standing in the kitchen doorway simply shakes her head at Yoongi’s gratitude. “It was nice to be the one to take her,” she says. Yoongi pulls off the towel sitting on his shoulder, wiping his hands, draping it back into its place after. He walks over to Sejeong, leaning against the door jamb. Behind her, he can see a few customers sitting inside the bakery, quietly working with headphones or chatting with whoever they came with.

“To be honest, she was really excited for you to go with her,” Yoongi says, crossing his arms with a small smile. He lets his head fall against the doorframe too, sighing. “I’m glad that you guys are bonding more. I know you missed a lot in the beginning, but—you’re putting the effort in now. I appreciate that.” He pauses, watching Sejeong’s expression; she’s always been so easy to read. “Don’t feel so guilty.”

As if offended, Sejeong scoffs and folds her arms defensively across her chest. “I don’t,” she says insistently, which doesn’t really sell her claim at all. “I just—I wish I realized earlier, that she isn’t so bad.”

Yoongi lifts his eyebrows. “Are you implying you ever thought she was bad?”

Sejeong groans. “Oppa.”

“I’m joking,” he murmurs, letting her shove him, laughing. Sejeong laughs too, flipping some hair over her shoulder. Yoongi settles down, glancing back at Miran to see her peering curiously into the bowl of cookie dough sitting on the counter beside her. If he doesn’t hurry this up, he’s going to be pulling fingers out of that bowl real soon. “But seriously, thank you. I have this huge cookie order for a wedding in a couple days, so I really needed today to finish up the prep.”

Sejeong nods and shrugs. “I had fun. It was nice to meet some of her friends and her parents' friends,” she says, then follows it with a nose scrunch. “A bunch of the other moms thought we were married and kept asking why I didn’t have a ring, though. They were all so awkward about it when I told them. Only Seokjin-ssi was understanding.”

Yoongi lets out a laugh of disbelief. He’s gotten a lot of questions about where his child’s mother is when people realize that Miran is his daughter. “Jin-hyung’s in the same position, sort of,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek. There’s a brief spread of awkward silence between them. The reconnection is still fairly recent, so Yoongi has trouble navigating it. “Um. If you want—if you want anything from the display, it’s on me. But if you order coffee, I’ll have to charge you.”

“No special prices for your kid’s mom?” Sejeong teases, taking a step back. Yoongi only rolls his eyes in response, briefly meeting Taehyung’s gaze from the register. He averts them when Taehyung gives him an invasive eyebrow raise. “I’m fine, oppa. But thank you. And if you ever need me to do something like this again, I’ll be happy to.”

Miran and Yoongi finish up their goodbyes with Sejeong before Yoongi gets back to work. Miran is sitting on a stool beside him as he rolls out sheets of cookie dough, cutting out perfect circles to be able to bake them for the wedding order. He hopes the customers are satisfied with it, because he seriously put so much energy and time into getting the dough right. It isn’t often he gets big orders like this, and if it’s a success, he prays they’ll leave him a good review.

After cleaning up in the kitchen, Miran is yawning away, so Yoongi lets her rest in the armchair of the small office, practically the size of a glorified closet. There’s a desk and an office chair tucked into one corner, just enough room for the armchair to sit across from the desk. Yoongi does some financial work, sorting through bills for the bakery and the house they live in. When he checks on Miran again, she’s fast asleep.

“Yah, Kim Taehyung,” Yoongi calls, peering out of the office, down to the limited seating of the bakery. Taehyung is still standing at the register, scrolling through his phone with a blank expression. He looks up at the call of his name, cocking his head to the side. Yoongi uses his head to gesture to the inside of the office. “Can you watch her while I pee? She’s sleeping.”

Taehyung gives him a thumbs up, and once he walks over, Yoongi crosses the hallway to use the restroom. He makes the trip quick, washing his hands after. While he does, he looks at himself in the mirror, tilting his head back and forth to analyze the acne that’s made home across his chin. Yoongi sighs and wipes his hands with paper towels, going back to look after he’s dried his hands. It must be the stress.

Sometimes looking at himself in the mirror makes Yoongi uneasy. He sees a tired man, aged years beyond the number of his actual age. He sees someone far too lackluster at times, constantly filled with self-doubt and anxiety, constantly unsure of whether his choices as both a father and a business owner have been the correct ones. Usually, he just shakes it off, but those intrusive thoughts have been sinking into his mind more and more often these days.

As Yoongi exits the bathroom, he hears the shrill ring of the bell from the counter. He sighs, smooths his hair under his cap, and puts his apron on again before going to attend to the customer. He shouts a greeting from the end of the hallway, pushing the sleeves of his hoodie to his elbows.

“What can I get for you?” Yoongi asks, placing his hands lightly on the register, lifting his chin to meet a pair of big eyes. A face mask is covering the bottom of half of his face.

The customer glances over to the display, leaning back to look more intently at it. “Can I get…” he trails off, tracing the edge of the counter as he continues to scan over what’s left at this time of the afternoon. “Hm. Can I just get one of everything? And black coffee, please.”

Yoongi blinks a few times. He isn’t sure if he’s hearing the customer right. “One… of everything?” he asks again to double check, simply getting an unwavering nod in return. Without further question, he rings up the prices for each item that remains in the display case. The price is astonishing, but the customer swipes his card with no hesitation. Frankly, Yoongi isn’t complaining about it.

The man takes a seat in the corner, spreading papers across the table in front of him. Yoongi opens a pastry box and uses tongs to place one of each item inside. He ends up filling two boxes, and leaves them in the corner of the table that the customer has settled on. He gives Yoongi a polite bow of his head. Briefly, Yoongi’s eyes peek at what the customer is working on, and hesitates at the explosion of color on paper.

Intrigued, Yoongi opens his mouth to ask, but he hesitates. Of all people, he understands the privacy that artists have. On top of that, he doesn’t want to offend the guy when he just bought a shit-ton of pastries off his daily display. He walks away to make the coffee instead of making a fool of himself.

“Hyung, she’s—ow.” Miran runs into Taehyung from behind, attempting to climb him. He smiles at Yoongi weakly. “She’s awake now.”

“Miran-ah,” Yoongi calls, leaning against the counter when she just peers around Taehyung’s body. “Wanna help me bring this to a customer?”

Miran jumps at the opportunity. “What is it?” she asks, bouncing with excitement, literally bunny hopping over to Yoongi. She beams brightly at him, and Yoongi pauses to ruffle her hair before lifting her into his arms. Miran clings to his neck, leaning her head against his.

“It’s coffee,” Yoongi says, and finishes brewing it with one hand, pouring it slowly into a blue ceramic mug. He places the mug into a matching saucer, which is already sitting in a tray with cream and sugar. Miran watches, entranced with her eyes wide. She’s probably seen him do this a thousand times, but her interest still hasn’t faded. “Should I carry it or can you?”

“I can do it!”

She wriggles her way out of Yoongi’s arms and back onto the ground. Yoongi bends down behind her, gripping the tray steadily, letting her place her hands over his. They waddle together to the customer's table. Miran takes extra slow steps to ensure no accidental spills or burns. Yoongi already had to ban his apprentice Jiho from working with hot coffee—it’s happened one too many times now.

“Your coffee, sir,” Yoongi says, lifting the tray from Miran’s height to place it on the only unoccupied space of the table.

Miran folds her arms over the tabletop and stares at the artwork, mouth falling agape. “Woah,” she says, pointing to a colorful drawing close to the window. It’s a cartoon-style drawing of Iron Man and Tony Stark, a line down the middle to separate the two. Yoongi’s not too surprised by the awe. It takes every piece of willpower in him to not buy her every single Iron Man related item he sees. “You like Iron Man too?”

The customer has his mask pushed down to his chin now, revealing a prominent nose and pursed lips, both pierced with hoops sitting in them. He looks at the coffee, then Miran, then the drawing, before a smile takes over his features. His eyes scrunch up, and Yoongi won’t lie, it’s a nice look on this stranger. The customer leans closer to Miran, gesturing for her to do the same. She looks at Yoongi for permission, and he nods, watching her lean close too.

“I have a secret,” The customer whispers loudly. Miran nods eagerly—she loves secrets. Ever since she learned the word secret, it’s been Yoongi versus secrets. Sometimes he’ll pick her up from school and ask about her day, and Miran will tell him it’s a secret. Most times he can tickle it out of her when they get home, but she really tries to use it as an excuse for everything. “I love Iron Man.”

Even if Yoongi can’t see her face, he just knows that Miran’s eyes have lit up. “Me too!” she exclaims, bouncing on her toes. Yoongi steadies the table when she shakes it, worried about the mug of coffee still sitting in the tray. “Appa said he isn’t real, but I think he’s still real, because he’s really cool and saves people.”

The customer lifts his eyebrows, an amused smile twitching at his mouth. He bites on the lip ring sitting on the corner of his mouth before saying, “I guess I need to have a word with your Appa.”

Miran turns around and tugs on the pocket in Yoongi’s apron. He kneels for her, steadying himself with a hand on the table. “He wants to have a word with you,” she says into Yoongi’s ear. “I think he’s gonna tell you that Iron Man is real.”

Yoongi laughs and stands again—Miran ducks between his legs and stands behind him, hugging his knees. “You wanted a word?” he asks, and doesn’t know if the shock on the customer’s face is genuine or fake.

“Wait, you’re her dad?” he asks, biting the eraser of his pencil. “You don’t look like a dad.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have the dad look?” Yoongi offers, unsure of what else he could say. He’s gotten this question so many times that he can’t keep track, or remember what he said in response the last time it happened.

The customer shakes his head and leans his weight on the table. “I heard you have something against Iron Man,” he says, and Miran giggles from behind Yoongi.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Okay, that’s an exaggeration. Like, he’s a fictional character,” he says, waving his hand through the air. He winces when Miran stomps on his foot—she hates when he says that about any character she loves. She’s convinced they’re real. He glances back at Miran to find her giggling, so he dramatically adds, “I mean, totally real. Definitely real. Iron Man definitely exists.”

“What’s her name?” the customer asks, pointing behind Yoongi with his pencil.

“Miran.”

The customer smiles even wider and asks, “Miran-ah, do you want to hold it?”

Surprised, Yoongi looks behind him again to see that Miran has gone back to hiding. He sighs, lifting her up and placing her in the chair across from the customer. He places the Iron Man art piece in front of her. Miran gasps and picks up the paper delicately, bringing the drawing into the light more. She tilts it side-to-side, and it takes Yoongi a moment before he notices the subtle glitter too.

“You can keep it,” the customer tells her. Yoongi snaps his eyes up. “You’ll probably appreciate him more than I do.”

“Can I?” Miran asks, eyes wide as she looks up at Yoongi.

Yoongi shakes his head, alarmed by the offer. “We can’t possibly—”

The customer cuts him off with a casual, “Seriously, I don’t really need it anymore.” He shrugs. “As long as you guys take care of it, I’m happy to give it to you.”

“Wow,” Yoongi says. He’s still stunned by this man’s kindness. “Thank you. She—she’ll really appreciate it.”

Without Yoongi even asking her too, Miran jumps out of her chair and folds herself into a bow. “Thank you!” she chirps, and giddily skitters away before Yoongi has a chance to scoop her up. He sighs, watching her jump into Taehyung’s lap and shove the drawing in his face. Taehyung grins, giving Miran the reaction she was probably looking for from Yoongi.

“She’s very cute.”

Yoongi faces the table again, meeting the gaze of the customer. He fixes the chair Miran was sitting on, letting his eyes wander back to her. She’s sitting in the stool beside Taehyung’s, still admiring the piece of artwork she was gifted. “She is,” he agrees, sighing in exhaustion. He smiles briefly when he looks back at the customer. “Cute, but a handful.”

The customer laughs. “I can’t imagine,” he says quietly. His attention settles behind Yoongi, probably looking at Miran. “Having a kid must make things difficult.”

“It does, but,” Yoongi pauses for a moment, looking back at his daughter. “Most times it doesn't. Kids are more perceptive than you think.” He looks back at the customer and smiles, more grateful than anything else. “Thank you again. I’ll make sure she takes good care of your artwork. Enjoy your coffee.” Yoongi bows and steps back, then heads back to the counter.

The customer stays until closing, leaving behind his empty coffee mug, neatly stacked on the tray Yoongi delivered it in. Yoongi and Miran do the cleaning together, dancing along to the music playing through the speakers. It's a calming end to Yoongi’s evening—he’s a little worn down, but even just Miran’s presence makes him feel brighter. Everything about her makes Yoongi feel complete.

Once the bakery is closed, Yoongi helps Miran into her coat, then shrugs on his own. He holds her hand as they walk home, hands swinging, listening to her ramble on about the birthday party she went to earlier today. Miran tires herself out quickly, yawning into her free hand by the time they've reached home.

The house is what Yoongi would call a shoebox. There's enough room for two bedrooms, but they share a bathroom and the living room coincides with the kitchen. But it feels like home; it smells like home—of Yoongi’s elaborate baking experiments, of Miran’s favorite vanilla candle, of Seokjin’s cologne lingering whenever he and Hayoung come over. It’s home in every sense of the word.

Yoongi unlocks the door, slips off his shoes with Miran standing in front of him. He lifts her into his arms and carries her into her room, flipping open the light. Miran widely yawns, covering her mouth, sitting on the bed with her head lolling as Yoongi gets her pajamas. He kneels in front of her, flicking the tip of her nose to get her attention. Yoongi knows this is all for show.

“Come on, Mimi, you’re old enough that Appa doesn't need to change you,” Yoongi says softly, nudging her again. Dramatically, Miran yawns again and slumps on top of the bed, feigning sleep. Yoongi sighs and jabs his fingers into her ribs, tickling her sides. Miran, despite resisting at first, bursts into giggles.

“No—Appa! No tickling!” Miran shouts through her laughter, legs kicking wildly as she attempts to get away from Yoongi.

Yoongi lifts an eyebrow. “Get dressed for bed then,” he says, placing Miran upright again. He sets the pajamas on her bed and kisses her cheek, pushing himself up to stand. “Do you want milk before you sleep?”

Miran taps her chin before nodding enthusiastically. “Can you put the honey in it?” she asks, sliding off the bed, unfolding the pajama set. Yoongi nods and touches the top of her head, then steps out, leaving the door half open.

Before going to the kitchen, Yoongi enters his bedroom to get changed too. They both had early dinner at the bakery, courtesy of Seokjin, who always makes sure that there is extra food in Yoongi’s kitchen. It's sweet, the way Seokjin dotes on him. Yoongi shouldn't rely on Seokjin so much, but he does, and without fail, his friend is always there for him.

Yoongi covers a yawn as he walks out to the kitchen. He fills a mug with milk and stirs in a tablespoon of honey, then sticks it in the microwave for a minute. Miran strolls out, carrying Yoongi’s bag in her arms, laying it on the kitchen table. Yoongi lifts his eyebrows, crossing his arms as he silently watches her unzip the largest pocket.

“Need something from in there?” Yoongi asks a minute later, setting down the mug of milk and honey. He takes a seat across from Miran—the zip is jammed and she’s been struggling to open it. Yoongi tugs on one of the straps, pulling the bag towards himself.

“The drawing!” Miran blows into the mug before taking a careful sip through her straw. She points to the mug and gives Yoongi two thumbs up with an approving nod. Her attention returns to the bag again, pointing at it. “Appa, I want the Iron Man drawing!”

Yoongi fixes the zipper and takes out the folder he tucked it into for safe keeping, slipping it out. He places it on the table, at a distance from Miran’s milk. Luckily she gets the idea and admires it from afar. Yoongi puts his chin in his hand, wondering what her thoughts are now.

“I like the sparkles,” Miran says, eyes still focused on the paper on the table. She looks up with shining round eyes. “Appa, can I put it on my wall?”

“Why don't we ask Halmeoni to get you a nice frame for it?” Yoongi suggests, tilting the paper towards him. “You won't accidentally ruin it that way. Good idea?”

Miran nods enthusiastically. “I miss Halmeoni,” she murmurs after, holding the straw with one hand while she takes a sip. “Can she come see us soon?”

Yoongi smiles and laughs weakly. “Sure, Mimi-yah, I’ll ask her,” he says, and returns his gaze to the drawing. It glimmers in the dim kitchen light. “For now, let's keep it on the fridge.” Yoongi stands and uses the only free magnet to hang it up. Somehow, the colorful drawing fits right in with Miran’s various vines and flowers. “How does it look?”

“Perfect, Appa. It looks perfect.”

Yoongi’s favorite day to work is Monday, oddly enough. It’s his favorite because it's when the kitchen is the busiest—he’s up at dawn, making the trek from his house to the bakery, hands always occupied with kneading or shaping dough. Mornings after opening can be stressful with the rush. It’s mostly regulars who drop by and pick up the same coffee orders, the same pastry orders—always arrive at the same time nearly every day. Yoongi looks forward to that part. They always ask about how he and Miran are doing.

Most days that Yoongi is working, Miran spends the afternoon at Seokjin’s house. It isn’t too far, Yoongi trusts that despite his daughter’s curiosity, she knows better than to venture further than the neighborhood. The one time she had, she managed to trace her steps back to the bakery, but not without a quivering lips and tear streaks on her face. Yoongi didn’t even need to scold her; she was already wailing about never doing it again when she ran into his arms.

Lately, Yoongi is trying to make room for Sejeong in their life again. Miran is comfortable enough to call her Eomma and be around her for a few hours without Yoongi. She gets excited about having a mother, despite Sejeong not being particularly motherly. Sejeong has always been the stiff, focused one between the two of them. They had a mutual break up during the pregnancy—Yoongi wanted to keep Miran and Sejeong didn't.

Sejeong expressed that raising a child would interfere with her career preparations. She wanted to go to medical school—and she did. Yoongi was already set on opening his own bakery one day, attending culinary school and working as a beginner under a professional. But he felt wrong giving Miran to someone else, a child, someone that might end up looking like him. In the end, Sejeong birthed their daughter and went on her way, leaving behind Yoongi and Miran to craft a life together.

The morning rush was fun, but now Yoongi is lethargic and lazy. He’s stretched over the couch in his empty bakery, eyes shut, arm over his forehead. Midday is an odd time for people to buy their baked goods, so the bakery is typically empty unless it's morning or once people are off work. Sometimes he gets event orders, but the last couple of large orders were fulfilled over the weekend with the help of Taehyung and Jiho.

He’s humming along to the music he’s playing on the speakers when the bell above the door tinkles, indicating someone entering. Yoongi removes his arm from his head and sits up, surprised to have a customer at this hour. When his vision adjusts properly, he locks eyes with the artist kid who gifted Miran the Iron Man drawing. Yoongi peels himself off the couch, skirting behind the counter to the register.

The artist is masked again, backpack slung over one shoulder. His clothes run large, a t-shirt falling down to his knees, baggy pants, the chunkiest combat boots that Yoongi has ever seen. There are tattoos on his hands, smudged eyeliner on his eyelids, as if he was in a rush when he applied it. His eyes are just as massive as the last time he was here. Well, Yoongi didn't think they’d be different.

“Welcome back,” Yoongi says with a smile, as the artist scans the espresso menu above them. “Are you going to buy out my display again?”

The artist flicks his eyes to the pastries and hums thinkingly, fingers tapping the counter with the beat of the music. His eyebrows are furrowed, clearly deep in thoughts. Yoongi fights down an amused smile. He has never had someone take choosing pastries so seriously.

“My daughter really loves the drawing you gave her,” Yoongi continues, perching his weight on the stool behind him. “We framed it and put it on the wall.”

“Wow, thanks. That's so cool,” the artist says, voice light and airy and genuine. It has a soothing timbre, putting Yoongi at ease. Yoongi can imagine the artist smiling beneath the mask. He’s still looking at the menu and display as he pulls his wallet from his front pocket. “Anyway, I think I’ll have… a vanilla latte and one of everything on display again.”

Yoongi lifts his eyebrows. “I was only joking,” he murmurs, tilting the register’s screen towards himself. “Are… you sure you want everything?”

“You're making me doubt myself.”

“Ah—no, don't do that.”

“One of everything, please.”

“Alright, then. A vanilla latte and one of everything.”

It takes Yoongi a couple of minutes to ring everything up, double checking the display and the order to ensure no repeats or accidental additions. The artist swipes his card and removes his bag as he walks to the same table he sat in last time. Yoongi shakes his head in disbelief—it was shocking enough for it to happen once, but for it to happen twice? Yoongi wonders what he did in his past life to deserve such a gift.

He tasks Taehyung with putting the pastries in a large box while he makes the latte. Yoongi delivers the coffee quietly, leaving it on the corner of the table, away from where the artwork is spread out once again. When Taehyung delivers the box, Yoongi overhears an enthusiastic compliment and a shy acceptance. He retreats to the office before he can get caught up in eavesdropping.

Yoongi works on bookkeeping for thirty minutes, outlining their expenses and bills and profit and paychecks. It's his least favorite part of owning a business and he desperately wishes that he could afford hiring another employee to take care of it. There's just enough profit for Yoongi to continue renting this space, his home, and paying his two employees a stable wage. If only they got more catering orders.

His eyes are burning and drooping by the time he shuts the office laptop. Yoongi slumps back in his desk chair and shuts his eyes. He’s so exhausted now, he might just give Taehyung the job of closing up shop and go home. Taking a solid nap in his own bed sounds like exactly what he needs.

It feels like his entire body is weighing him down when he walks over to Taehyung, who is still conversing with the artist at his table. Again, the artist has his mask down to his chin as he nibbles on the corner of a coffee bun. Yoongi lingers a few feet, wondering if he should interrupt when Taehyung is talking so passionately. He always slips into his heavy satoori, fast paced and difficult to keep up with if you aren't familiar with Daegu’s dialect. Yoongi can tell just by the artist’s expression that he isn’t following along.

Yoongi decides to save the poor customer and places his hand on Taehyung’s shoulder once he’s close enough. Taehyung’s words falter, twisting his head to look over his shoulder. “Oh hyung,” he starts, and looks Yoongi up and down for a moment. A sympathetic expression finds his face. “You look like shit.”

“Thank you,” Yoongi mutters, running his left hand through his hair to flatten it. He sighs and drops his hand from Taehyung’s shoulder, folding both arms over his chest. “Can you close up today? I’m going home early. I think my back is breaking.”

“You’re so dramatic, but yes—that’s fine,” Taehyung replies, chin still tilted up at Yoongi. “Get some rest and I’m sure you’ll be good as new tomorrow.”

Yoongi just gives him a thumbs up and a grateful shoulder pat, grabbing his bag from behind the counter. He’s halfway out the door when Taehyung calls out, “Hyung!” and he turns to look at him.

“What?”

“Your apron?”

“Huh?” Yoongi looks down at himself. “Oh.” He looks back at Taehyung and waves it off. “I’ll just wash it later, but thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He waves again and lets the door shut behind him.

Before going home, Yoongi treats himself to a chocolate bar from the convenience store. He finishes it during the walk back to his house, fighting sleep and the weight of his aching limbs. But once he’s inside and out of his work clothes, he face-plants into his mattress and falls asleep almost immediately.

Yoongi has no idea what time it is when his eyes open again. He’s groggy, still lethargic, his lower back throbbing with pain. There's noise outside his bedroom door, giggling and screaming. Yoongi groans when he rolls out of bed, and when he stretches, he hears more than feels all the places his joints pop.

He emerges from his dark bedroom, squinting into the sunlight pouring into their small living room. His eyes focus on the two girls chasing each other around, screeching words he's probably too old to decipher. There is excess clattering from the kitchen, the stove fan whirring noisily. Yoongi follows the sound to find Seokjin standing in front of the stove, two pots steaming before him.

“Morning sunshine,” Seokjin says with a half-grin, his presence as warm and comforting as it always is. Yoongi only grunts in response and walks past him to get a glass of water. “The kids wake you?”

“When do they not?” Yoongi mumbles with a sigh, sitting at the kitchen table. He takes a couple long gulps of water before setting his glass beside him, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “What time is it?”

“A little after six.”

“I slept for too long,” Yoongi mumbles, pulling his legs onto the chair, tucking his chin over his knees. “How was Miran today? Did she eat?”

Seokjin nods, his back facing Yoongi as he stirs one of the pots. He turns around and leans against the counter. “Good, yeah, she ate so well. She showed me her empty lunch box, and she had apple slices and strawberry milk at the park,” he says, and Yoongi nods, pleased to know that his daughter is well and healthy. “Although, she was crying for you by the end of the afternoon which is why we’re here. She wanted to wake you up, but I thought it would be better to wait.”

Yoongi smiles a little, grateful to have a friend who knows him so well. He nods in answer and turns his attention to Miran and Hayoung playing in the living room. They've settled down now, sitting at the table on the floor with their head pressed together. There's a puzzle spread on top, and the two girls murmur to each other to complete it. Yoongi decides to let them be.

“Hyung,” Yoongi calls after a couple more minutes of watching their daughters. Seokjin makes a small noise of acknowledgement, glancing back at Yoongi. “How’s the situation with your ex going?”

“Like a nightmare.” Seokjin groans, scraping onions into one of the pots. He gives it a stir and spoons some into his mouth, smacking his lips after. “Sometimes I don't even know why I married her. Like, I don't love her. And this custody battle is awful, especially for Hayoung, because she knows she doesn't want to live with Jiwan. Yet the court wants to let Jiwan keep her because she's her mom.”

Yoongi shakes his head incredulously. It's ridiculous how biased the law can be. They don't even take the situation into account. For the few years he’s known Seokjin, almost never has Jiwan been the one to be the present parent. Seokjin works from home—Jiwan works long hours and travels a lot, yet the court wants to hand Hayoung to her? It's the stupidest thing Yoongi has heard.

“You can't get the court to realize you are the only responsible parent in the equation?” Yoongi asks, tapping his chin as he ponders what Seokjin’s options could be. “Is your divorce attorney any good?”

“Yes, she’s doing an amazing job of making my life a living hell,” Seokjin mutters, followed by an exasperated sigh and the aggressive banging of a wooden spoon against one of the pots. “She doesn't believe in stay-at-home fathers. She insists that’s the mother's role, which is so ironic considering she works and has a child of her own.”

Yoongi scoffs. “Hypocrisy—that makes no sense.” He stands and begins clearing the table, picking up markers and crayons scattered on one side. “Get a new lawyer hyung, you’re wasting your money on this woman with double standards. Surely you can find someone more willing to support you.”

“Between being a dad and working, I don't have time,” Seokjin says with disappointment. Yoongi hurts for him. They’ve always been connected in this way—they've always understood each other's emotions without fully needing to express it. Yoongi’s strongest friendship is with Seokjin, and he figures it always will be. Even if he isn't living through it, Yoongi feels the same frustration that Seokjin does.

“I’ll look for someone,” Yoongi says casually, setting the box of markers inside the small drawers kept on the edge of the living room. He begins setting the table for the four of them to eat dinner. “You deserve to get out of this position, hyung.”

With no answer, Seokjin returns Yoongi's words with a tight, sad smile. They both know better than to continue discussing this with the kids nearby, because anything said in their vicinity at this age is at risk of being retained. They’re at the prime age to make core memories, and as parents, it's part of their duty to protect them from any negative ones. Hayoung already must be experiencing a lot with the divorce surrounding her custody—it's better to finish the conversation later.

“Appa! You’re awake!” Miran shouts, as Yoongi is setting glasses for water on the table. She runs over and jumps into Yoongi’s arms when he’s ready for her. Miran plants a kiss on his cheek, and Yoongi sets her down again, kneeling to her height. “I missed Appa today.”

“I heard. Is my Mimi okay?” Yoongi asks, tucking her hair behind her ear. Miran giggles and nods, hands behind her back. “Why’d you cry when you were with Uncle Jinnie?”

Miran pouts and says, “I forgot that I went to the park with him and not Appa, so I cried when I fell.” She pulls up the hem of her leggings, rolling the right side to her knee. Yoongi grimaces at the nasty yellow bruise forming on the center of her kneecap. “Appa wasn't there to kiss it better.”

Feeling inexplicably endeared, Yoongi holds his index and middle fingers together, kisses the tips before gently tapping the bruise. “All better,” he says, pinching her cheek. Miran giggles and shows Yoongi a big smile, one tooth missing. “It's dinner time soon, so why don't you and Hayoung come sit at the table?”

Miran nods and scurries back to the living room, tugging insistently on Hayoung’s arm. Yoongi rises to his feet and finishes setting the table—Seokjin places the stew he’s been cooking in the center, along with leftover side dishes that were sitting in the fridge. Yoongi takes a seat in his usual spot, Miran beside him in case she needs help eating.

They listen to Hayoung’s rambling about their day, Seokjin always giving her affirmative nods and encouraging smiles. Beneath it, Yoongi can still see that he's suffering, and he wishes there was more he could do to support their family. Yoongi always thought his own situation was bad, but Seokjin’s has become far worse. Before the divorce was suggested, he and Hayoung would sleep over, especially when Jiwan and Seokjin were fighting.

Things have been better at home after Jiwan moved out, but there's still the pain of divorce and battling for custody. Yoongi is doing his best to be a good friend, to be there to support Seokjin through this. But most places, he’s helpless, and can only offer his ears to listen and a hand to hold. Despite all this, Seokjin smiles through it for Hayoung. It's admirable.

After eating dinner, Seokjin and Hayoung gather their things to head home. Yoongi sees them off, then returns to the kitchen to start cleaning up for the night. Miran is by his side, snapping shut the lids of Tupperware boxes, silence comfortable between them. Well, that is until Miran starts humming as she puts everything away in the fridge, then skips over to the living room to continue playing with her toys.

Sighing, Yoongi joins her in the living room, sitting on one side of the couch to catch up on his text messages. Jiho sent him a couple photos of the bakery kitchen, pristine and sparkling. Yoongi replies with his thanks, then opens the chat with Taehyung. It's a thread about the artist customer—Yoongi reads them, easily amused by Taehyung’s excitement over their mutual interest in art.

“Time for bed,” Yoongi says, noticing the time in the corner of his phone screen. He shuts it and sets it on the table, lifts Miran by the waist. She wriggles valiantly, but fails to make it out of Yoongi’s arms. “It’s a school night, Mimi. You have to sleep.”

“Nooo,” Miran whines, dramatically falling limp when she realizes she can't squirm her way out of this one. Yoongi sets her two feet on the stool in the bathroom, laying out her toothbrush and toothpaste. “Appa, please don't make me. I wanna play with Syub-syub!”

Yoongi hums as he gently brushes through the tangles in her hair. This dialogue is something he’s grown used to. Miran loves challenging everything Yoongi says; he gets reports that she behaves similarly with her teachers at school. She’s a curious little one. It’s good to a certain extent—until she asks Yoongi about why this and what if that happens and he has to stop himself from pulling his hair out.

“Syub-syub will be there when you wake up, Miran-ah,” Yoongi says, watching through the mirror as Miran pouts and reluctantly picks up her toothbrush. She has such an attachment to that stuffed dog. “He needs to rest too, you know? It's not fair that you play with him all the time and he never gets to sleep.”

“But Appa…”

“Appa’s tired too,” Yoongi says, running his fingers through her hair once it's free of knots. He carefully braids it down her back, tying it off with a pink hair tie. He presses a kiss to the top of her head before picking up his own toothbrush, beginning to brush his teeth too.

Ultimately, Yoongi wins this battle and has Miran tucked into her bed a little after eight PM. He retreats to his bedroom and collapses on top, cheek in his pillow, feet dangling off the edge. Yoongi’s eyes fall shut; he’s out like a light before he could second guess sleeping so early.

“I’m sensing a pattern,” Yoongi says when he’s faced with the artist who buys out his display case for the third time in a week.

The artist—or Jungkook, as Taehyung calls him—offers Yoongi a crooked, toothy smile. “It’s the cream donuts,” he says, pointing to the fact that there are four extra cream donuts in his box of pastries. Yet again, he bought one of everything, aside from the extra donuts. “It's the perfect combination of savory and sweet. I’m addicted.”

“Those are Miran’s favorites too,” Yoongi says, placing down Jungkook's glass of iced coffee. He sets a wrapped straw beside the glass, lingering at the table. Jungkook's work is minimal today, only a tablet and a couple sheets of sketch paper in front of him. Yoongi tilts his head to the side, drawn to the vibrant colors on the screen, but Jungkook presses the lock and it goes black. Yoongi lifts his chin and finds Jungkook staring. “Sorry. Just curious.”

“I get it,” Jungkook says and laughs, a shy sound. It sits in Yoongi’s head longer than he laughs. Jungkook takes another bite of his donut, the cream sticking to the corners of his mouth, some smudging on his cheek. “But seriously, what do you guys put in these to make them so good?”

Yoongi laughs, leaning his weight on the side of the table. “What can I say? Baker’s specialty. I can't give my secret away like that,” he says, pulling a napkin from his apron pocket, passing it to Jungkook.

“You make these?” Jungkook asks as he wipes his greasy fingers, then the cream on his face.

“Well, it is my bakery,” Yoongi says, shrugging nonchalantly. He tries not to be boastful about owning his own bakery and being the one in charge; he fairly delegates the work between himself and his two employees so it doesn't go to his head. They’ve only been open for a little over a year—the success has been trickling in. He has enough regulars to keep his head above the water. They don’t have a lot of wiggle room, which is why Yoongi included a catering aspect to his business.

Jungkook finishes off the puff pastry and crosses his arms over the table, leaning forward. His hair is hanging in his face today, bangs falling in his eyes. “You’re amazing,” Jungkook says, unwrapping his straw and sliding it into the glass. He has a short sip, then regards Yoongi with this wide-eyed, adoring look—he resembles a doe, or quite literally any creature with large eyes. A puppy, perhaps. “I’m serious! You look like you don't believe me.”

Flustered, Yoongi is quick to give Jungkook a polite smile. “Sorry, um, that's just… my face,” he says, apologizing again after. He doesn't know what's gotten into him. Why was he so distracted by this kid’s eyes? Yoongi must be going insane. “I’m glad you're enjoying what I have to offer here. I’m honored that you come often and order so much.”

Jungkook smiles brightly—he has large front teeth. Yoongi wonders if it's offensive to compare his overbite to a bunny. “I’m just grateful you don't kick me out for taking up too much room,” he replies, and Yoongi manages a weak laugh.

“Take up as much room as you like,” Yoongi says, smiling again. “You’re always welcome here, Jungkook-ssi.”

“Wait—how do you already know my name?”

“Oh.” Yoongi didn't even think that through. He just points over his shoulder, to where Taehyung is most likely on his phone behind the register. Jungkook cranes his neck to look behind Yoongi. “Big mouth on him. Taehyung told me a couple of days ago.” Jungkook nods his head slowly, then looks at Yoongi again. “Word of advice? Confidentiality is kind of lost with him.”

Jungkook nods again, twirling his digital pencil in his right hand. “Thanks for telling me,” he says, tapping the back of the pencil against his cheek. Yoongi watches his eyelashes flutter whenever he blinks, close enough to see each lash press against his cheek. Jungkook smiles and tilts his head to the side. “Isn't it fair if you give me your name too?”

“Min Yoongi,” he says and bows a little, eager to get away. Yoongi doesn't typically have issues speaking to strangers, at least not anymore, certainly not after having to meet with teachers and the parents of his daughter’s friends, but something about this conversation makes his skin crawl. “I… have to get back to work. I have a, uh, birthday cake order to finish. So… I’ll leave you to your work.”

“Thank you, Yoongi-ssi,” Jungkook calls out as Yoongi returns to the kitchen, safeguarded by double doors and a nonexistent birthday cake waiting for him.

Yoongi lets himself out the back door and breathes in the fresh air, hunching over with his hands on his knees. For some reason, his heart is racing and his breathing is unsteady. Something about that interaction with Jungkook is sending his entire body in a flurry of confusion. There’s a tightness in the center of his chest, twisting, air not quite entering his lungs. He takes a seat beside the propped open door and forces a deep breath.

He doesn’t understand this feeling. It’s not quite the anxiety that Yoongi is accustomed to feeling by now, but it's oddly similar. Yoongi shuts his eyes, forcing himself to take another deep breath with one hand pressed to his sternum. He shivers a little when the wind blows, and it dawns on him that he’s sweating—if he stays outside for too long, he could catch a cold. Yoongi mumbles curses to himself as he enters the kitchen again.

Wary, Yoongi peers past the curtains. Taehyung is taking a customer’s order and Jungkook is sitting at his table, large headphones sitting over both ears. Relieved that everyone is distracted, he slips away to retreat into the office. Why couldn’t he have lied about having financial work to take care of instead of an actual order? At least he can stay there for a reasonable amount of time before going back to help Taehyung.

Yoongi decides to make the most of his time in the office, and convinces himself to actually organize the last couple days of income and profit. With Jungkook’s large orders whenever he comes in, they surprisingly have a considerable amount of financial flexibility now. He prays that Jungkook keeps coming in, even if talking to him makes Yoongi feel a new type of anxiety. That’s something to unpack another time.

Yoongi gives himself twenty minutes before going back out to see if Taehyung needs any assistance. But he seems fine, sitting at the register with his phone. Yoongi joins him anyway, sliding into the seat behind him, yawning. Taehyung glances to his right, back to his phone, then up at Yoongi again.

“You look worse and worse every time I see you,” Taehyung says, abandoning his phone on the counter beside the register. Yoongi lets out an offended grunt, hunching his shoulders. His bones hurt. “Are you sleeping? Eating enough?”

Yoongi waves his hand dismissively. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” he mumbles, eyelids falling shut. Taehyung shuffles beside him and Yoongi sighs in content when there’s pressure between his shoulder blades. “Mm. A little higher—Ow, yes, whatever that is.” Taehyung digs his thumbs deep into the knots in Yoongi’s back, kneading them out like the true baker’s assistant he is. “Taehyung-ah.”

“Eh?”

“Have I ever told you that you’re a blessing?”

Taehyung snorts and says, “No hyung, but I’d love for you to tell me.”

Yoongi groans quietly when a particularly twisted spot is pressed. “You’re a fucking blessing,” he mutters, putting his elbow on the counter to rest his forehead in his palm. “And you would be even more of a blessing if you made me coffee after this.”

“I’m trying to figure out if you’re teaching Miran how to manipulate people, or if she’s teaching you,” Taehyung says, giving a final squeeze to Yoongi’s shoulders before draping himself over his back. Yoongi pats his cheek in a silent thanks. Somehow, Taehyung is able to read his needs so easily. Yoongi isn’t one for skinship, but when it's from Taehyung or Miran, he can handle it. “What kind of coffee?”

“Decaf today, please,” Yoongi says, leaning his head against Taehyung’s cheek for a moment. “You doing good too, Taehyung-ah?”

Taehyung sighs. “I’m single again, so that's all I really have going for me,” he says, extracting his body from Yoongi’s. He turns towards the espresso machine to start making Yoongi’s coffee. “Men suck, hyung.”

Yoongi laughs, drumming his fingers against his cheek. He doesn't really have experience in that realm, so he has no idea how to respond. Taehyung goes on to detail the way he and his now ex-boyfriend broke up—something about a nice dinner and dessert, but the ex breaking the news before the meal even arrived. It sounds beyond awkward by Yoongi’s standards, even if he's never really dated much. Most women ditch him once they learn about Miran.

“Hyung,” Taehyung says, setting down a to-go cup full of black coffee, giving Yoongi cream and sugar. “Do you see those two guys outside? It looks like they're fighting.”

Yoongi lifts his chin as he opens a sugar packet, blindly dumping it into his coffee. There are two men outside, just like Taehyung said. One is taller than the other, and they seem to be having an intense argument. The taller one points to the door. The shorter one huffs and storms into the bakery, ignoring the counter altogether. He heads straight for Jungkook's table and begins yelling.

“Yah! Jeon Jungkook!” The shorter man shouts, slamming his palms on Jungkook's table. Yoongi and Taehyung flinch, sharing worried glances. They’re such a small, unknown bakery—any sort of drama that happens here becomes big news to the neighborhood. Yoongi knows Taehyung is the one who spreads rumors the most. “Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you?! Me and hyung have been so worried, you fucking bastard—”

Yoongi raises his eyebrows. He doesn't have the cleanest mouth either, but he's typically mindful of who can hear him when he decides to curse so unabashedly. The shorter man is still rambling and cursing at Jungkook in this loud, stressed-out tone. And it's beginning to freak Yoongi out and he would much rather have the calm atmosphere back inside his bakery.

“That's it,” Yoongi mutters to himself, leaving the register to approach the table. “Excuse me, sir.” The shorter man’s voice falters, then stops. He looks at Yoongi, as if surprised there are other people in here. “If you keep raising your voice, and, uh—being profane—” Yoongi clears his throat in discomfort. “I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“I—oh my god, I am so sorry,” the man says, visibly turning red in the face. Yoongi bites his bottom lip in worry. He wasn’t expecting the sudden shift in this man’s personality and voice. It's suddenly frantic and soft. “I didn't even stop to consider that someone else would be in here and—ah, I’m very sorry, I’m not usually like this.” He smiles warmly in Jungkook's direction. “Just… concerned about my friend.”

“Right,” Yoongi says, shifting uncomfortably. He tacks on a customer service smile. “If you could just keep it down, I would appreciate that.” To avoid any further debacles, he turns on his heel and walks back to Taehyung.

“That was amazing,” Taehyung whispers through his laughter, hand cupped over his mouth. Yoongi rolls his eyes and snaps the lid of his coffee cup shut, taking a long sip. The drink warms him from the inside out, right down to his toes. Exactly what he needed. “Oh man, that guy was so embarrassed. You used your dad-voice on him.”

Yoongi grimaces. He wasn't really paying attention to his tone, but he was trying to be professional about it. Dad-voice is far from professional, but at least it did the trick. Jungkook's friend is sitting beside him, talking to each other in hushed voices. Yoongi can only see Jungkook from this angle, but whatever they’re talking about can’t be good judging by his bothered expression.

“Stop laughing,” Yoongi says dryly, glaring at Taehyung.

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” he chokes out between giggles, clutching his stomach. “You’re too funny, hyung.”

“Okay, then go laugh in the pantry. Do inventory while you’re at it,” Yoongi says, still unimpressed. He pushes over the inventory clipboard, which shuts Taehyung up. Yoongi picks up the clipboard, whacks Taehyung’s arm with it, before placing it in his hands. “Have fun, Kim Taehyung.”

“You’re evil, hyung.” Taehyung shakes his head as he backs away, hissing another, “evil,” before he disappears through the kitchen door.

Yoongi shakes his head and continues drinking his coffee. His phone vibrates in his pocket a couple of times, and he doesn’t bother checking it until it continues. He takes it out, checking briefly on Jungkook and his friend, then turns his back for some privacy. Sejeong’s name is across his screen—Yoongi sighs and answers the phone with exhaustion.

“Hello?” he asks—Sejeong insisted on picking up Miran from school today. It’s Friday, and she wanted to treat her to an afternoon of mother-daughter time. Yoongi had no issues handing her over, he’s been open about Sejeong spending more time with Miran. He believes that it’s important for her to have a relationship with her mother, especially now that she’s getting older. “Sejeong-ah?”

“Oppa, you’re not home?” Sejeong calls back, her voice sounding distant.

Yoongi checks the time on his phone for a moment, then puts it against his ear again. “No? The bakery doesn’t close until seven, so I’ll be here for another hour or two.” He pauses. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes—” He hears the sound of tires screeching. Yoongi winces. “—I was going to drop Miran to your house, but I’ll bring her there instead, is that okay?”

“Yeah that’s fine,” Yoongi says, idly twirling a pen in his left hand. “Did you guys have fun?”

“Of course, we did so much,” Sejeong gushes, sounding genuinely happy that they spent the afternoon together. It helps Yoongi know that she’s truly putting the effort into being there for Miran now. As far as he knows, Sejeong had work today and took the day off just to be with Miran. He’s grateful—it’s a relief, knowing there’s another parent willing to care for her. “I’ll be there in a couple minutes.”

Yoongi hums. “Okay,” he says, and lets her hang up first.

Sure enough, only a couple minutes later, Miran comes bounding into the bakery. Yoongi slides off the stool, prepared to catch her in his arms. She kisses his cheek and clings to his shoulders, repeating, “Appa, Appa, Appa!” over and over again.

“I’m here, Mimi-yah,” Yoongi says with a laugh, letting her out of his arms. She sits on the stool. “Did you have fun with Eomma today?”

“Look!” Miran sticks out both her hands, wiggling her fingers. “Eomma took me to get my nails done!”

Yoongi takes her hand in his, inspecting the purple sparkling polish on her nails. “I love it,” he says, kissing the back of her hand. “You’re like a princess.” Miran’s eyes brighten and her smile stretches across her face. “But you don’t need pretty nails to be a princess. You’ll always be my princess.”

“You were always secretly a sap,” Sejeong says from the other side of the counter, Miran’s coat over one arm, and her bag on one shoulder. Yoongi wonders if she had initially agreed to raise Miran with him, whether or not they would still be together. She’s still cute, but Yoongi doesn’t feel anything for her anymore. He figures they would have ended up similar to Seokjin and Jiwan—married, but out of love and fighting over their child. “She was very good today.”

“That’s my girl,” Yoongi says, looking down at Miran. He squishes her cheeks and kisses her forehead, then lets her return to spinning around in the stool. “I’m glad you’re doing stuff like this, Sejeong-ah. I always… Well, I always kind of thought that when you left, you were gone for good.”

Sejeong makes a sour face—for a moment, it reminds him of Miran. He supposes Miran gets her expressiveness from her mother. “I don’t know what I was thinking, wanting to give her up after birth. This way, she’s growing up healthy and loved and cared for,” she says, pursing her lips. Yoongi nods in agreement, petting the top of Miran’s head once she stops spinning. “I was never happy with the way I left things. Even though you knew I wasn’t going to stick around, I just—felt guilty.”

“Don’t feel guilty, Eomma,” Miran says, leaning back against Yoongi. He wraps his arm around her shoulders, looking down at her little face with a frown on it. “Me and Appa were happy without you.” Yoongi looks at Sejeong apologetically, but she’s just laughing. “We’re even happier with you.”

“You’re a very sweet girl, Miran-ah,” Sejeong says, reaching over the counter to ruffle her hair. Miran shouts, “hey!” and frantically tries to fix the strand suddenly in her face. Yoongi just chuckles to himself, his heart inexplicably warm. “I’ll get going now, oppa. Thank you for letting me take her.”

Yoongi just nods and smiles, letting Miran run off to Taehyung when he returns from doing inventory. “I’m happy to give her to you whenever,” Yoongi says, leaning his weight on the side of one of the display cases. “You should come over for dinner sometime. I’m still a good chef, you know.”

Sejeong smiles and nods. “Sure. A family dinner sounds nice,” she says, and reaches out, brushing her fingertips through the side of Yoongi’s hair. Flustered, his face grows hot and he drops his chin. “Get some rest, okay? You look exhausted.”

“Ah, I guess everyone can see it these days,” Yoongi murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’ll send you a text about that dinner?” Sejeong nods again and waves as she makes her way out. Yoongi sighs and sits on the stool again, returning to his lukewarm coffee.

The peace with his coffee doesn’t last long. Jungkook’s friend approaches the counter, standing a couple feet away, hands clasped behind his back. Yoongi looks up at him and lifts his eyebrows in a questioning manner. “Can I get you something?” he asks, trying his best not to sound bored.

“Um, yes please. Jungkook is asking for his usual order,” he says in a sweet, gentle voice. It’s so different from Yoongi’s first impression, that it throws him off for a moment. There’s a bit of an accent attached to it, definitely not from Seoul. It’s similar to Jungkook’s, so Yoongi figures they must be from the same region.

“Is he paying for that or are you?” Yoongi asks, tapping the screen a couple of times to ring up the typical “one of everything” order. Jungkook’s friend’s jaw drops when he sees the price. “Your friend there has quite the appetite.”

“His stomach is bottomless—Jungkook-ah, I do not get paid enough for this,” the man says over his shoulder. Jungkook snickers and tosses his wallet to his friend. Yoongi manages a smile, letting him swipe the card through the machine. “I’m sorry about earlier. He’s disappearing a lot lately and it makes me worry.”

Yoongi shrugs. “I get it.” he says, finishing the transaction. Jungkook’s friend lingers even as Yoongi begins to fill the box with the remaining pastries. There isn’t much anymore, now that it’s the end of the day. “I’m just glad my kid wasn’t here while you were swearing at him.” Yoongi places the box on the counter, taping it shut. “I’d like to preserve her naivety for a little longer.”

The man’s eyes brighten. “Oh, the little one’s yours?” he asks, and Yoongi finds himself smiling and nodding proudly. “She’s adorable. I used to be an elementary school teacher, so I worked with students around her age.”

“You curse a lot for a teacher,” Yoongi says, pushing the box across the counter.

“So I’ve been told.” The man takes the box and tucks it under his left arm, then sticks out his right hand. “Park Jimin. If this is Jungkook’s new favorite place, you’ll probably be seeing a lot more of the both of us.”

Yoongi shakes his hand. “Min Yoongi,” he replies. “I look forward to serving you.”

Just as Jimin said, Yoongi does in fact see a lot of him and Jungkook over the next couple of weeks. It’s more Jungkook than Jimin—whenever it’s the latter, it’s typically only to drag Jungkook out of the bakery by his hair. Once, it was literally by his hair, and Yoongi broke down laughing after they left. Taehyung and Jiho found him on the floor beside the register, tears in his eyes. They both claim that he’s gone insane ever since.

Yoongi doesn’t get to talk to Jungkook often, regardless of how much time he spends inside the bakery. Most times, he has headphones on, focused on the art that he brings with him, sometimes his drawing tablet and sometimes sketch papers. Yoongi notices that Jungkook dabbles in different types of mediums, but charcoal and digital tend to be the ones he uses the most. He prefers not to interrupt Jungkook’s work time.

The few times that Yoongi gets to talk to Jungkook, it’s either when he’s ordering or when Miran is around. She’s started to call Jungkook “Iron Man” because of the piece of art he gave her the first time they all met. For some reason, it warms Yoongi’s heart every time he sees them interact. Jungkook always takes this gentle, yet animated tone with her. He’s good with kids—that’s always a plus when Yoongi meets new people.

There were a couple of instances where Jungkook fell asleep at what’s been deemed his table. He’ll have his open box of pastries, an empty mug of coffee, but be slumped against the window, snoring away. Yoongi never has the heart to wake him unless they’re closing soon. He looks so peaceful. Yoongi would feel guilty waking him up, not with all those harsh lines of his face relaxed, lips pressed in a pout.

It’s one of those days—where Jungkook is asleep and Yoongi doesn't have the courage to wake him up. So he quietly goes through the routine of closing the bakery, sweeps the floor around Jungkook while he soundly naps against the window. Yoongi can hear the music blaring past his headphones with how quiet the bakery is now. The sun is low in the sky, a golden hue passing through the front window. It’s the first Saturday of the month, which means Miran is spending the night at Seokjin’s.

Yoongi wraps up closing, locking the back door as the final step, and returns to the front. Jungkook is still sleeping, but Yoongi really can’t just leave him there, no matter how much he doesn’t want to wake him.

Sighing, Yoongi steps up to Jungkook’s table and gently touches his shoulder. Jungkook stirs, eyebrows furrowing, adjusting the position of his head. Yoongi sighs again, biting the inside of his cheek. Would it be weird if he woke a grown man the same way he does to his seven-year-old kid?

“Hey, Jungkook-ssi,” Yoongi whispers as he removes Jungkook’s headphones, finding the off switch. Jungkook mumbles incoherently, crossing his arms over his stomach, head lolling to the right side. Yoongi tries not to laugh and sets the headphones on the table, trying to shake his shoulder again. “Jungkook-ssi? I’m sorry, we’re closed. You have to leave now.”

Jungkook opens his eyes slowly, startling Yoongi. He steps away, clasping his hands behind his back, watching as Jungkook slowly wakes. Jungkook yawns, stretching his arms into the air, blinking at the table in front of him. He frowns, then looks up at Yoongi. “Did I fall asleep here again?” he asks with a groggy voice. Yoongi nods and laughs weakly, heart pounding. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine… I’m heading out though, so that means you too,” Yoongi says, picking up his bag from one of the chairs. He pulls it over one shoulder, tiling his head to the side as he watches Jungkook pack his things. “Do you live in the neighborhood?”

“Ah, no… Not at all, actually,” Jungkook replies, clarity returning to his quiet voice. His hands are moving slowly as he zips up his bag. He sighs and pulls it on, joining Yoongi by the door. His eyes are half-open, the remnants of sleep still evident on his face. “Do you? I can walk you home. I usually just drive. My car is somewhere around here.”

Yoongi pushes the door open, letting Jungkook out, then follows after him. He locks the door and steps down to the sidewalk, glancing around the street. Some restaurants are still open, older couples walking with their arms linked. It takes a moment for Yoongi to register Jungkook’s question, partly because he wasn’t paying attention, partly because he wasn’t expecting it. Jungkook wants to walk him home?

“Why do you come here if you live far away?” Yoongi asks, deciding to deliberate more before answering Jungkook’s strange question. “I would think there’s another bakery near you.”

Jungkook shrugs. “Over the last couple of years, I’ve kind of gotten sick of the few near my house,” he says, and gestures to the storefront of Yoongi’s bakery. “I found Mimi’s Bakery online. You have good reviews, Yoongi-ssi. The reality lived up to them.”

“Oh. Thank you,” Yoongi murmurs, adjusting the straps of his bag. He feels his phone vibrate in his front pocket, reaching down to pull it out. There is a text from Seokjin; a picture of Hayoung and Miran sitting at the kitchen table, trying to feed each other their dinner. Yoongi laughs a little, sending a couple of emojis in response. When he looks up again, Jungkook is still standing there, regarding him with big, curious eyes.

“You never answered my question,” Jungkook says, running his fingers through his hair. It’s dark and long, falls messily down the back of his neck, flat strands hanging around the sides of his face. Even after pushing it back, pieces fall right back into place. He’s pretty, Yoongi thinks. He tilts his head to the side as he watches Jungkook, unsure of how to interpret this first thought. “Yoongi-ssi?”

“Huh?”

“Can I walk you home?”

Yoongi turns towards the path to his house. “Sure,” he agrees, not seeing a problem in it. As long as he can keep his anxiety under control, there aren't any issues with Jungkook walking him home. He’s young, and kind (and pretty), and a regular at the bakery. Yoongi’s friendly with all the other regulars, and there’s nothing that should set Jungkook apart from them. “Have you found a new favorite, besides the cream donuts?”

Jungkook shoves his hands into his pockets, beginning to stroll alongside Yoongi. He’s tall, shoulders the same height as Yoongi's chin. Yoongi has to tilt his head up to see the side of Jungkook’s face. He notices two helix piercings glint in the sunlight before his hair covers it again. Yoongi chews on the inside of his cheek nervously, knowing full well that it’s an even worse alternative to biting his nails. That doesn’t really stop him, though.

A minute later of strolling down the slope that the bakery is on, Jungkook says, “No. I think the cream donuts are my all-time favorite.” Yoongi laughs—he’s reminded of Miran. “But I think Jimin-hyung likes your coffee rolls. I like them too, but he almost always asks me to get him one whenever I come.”

Yoongi shoots Jungkook a puzzled look. “But you don’t even get extra ones?” he asks. Jungkook laughs and grins mischievously, the sight of his smile sending a lurch in Yoongi’s stomach. That anxious feeling is creeping back into him; Yoongi goes back to biting his cheek, praying he doesn’t draw blood.

“I just save the ones I get for myself, and give them to him when I get home,” Jungkook explains. Yoongi smiles, more to himself this time. It’s such a sweet sentiment to imagine. He’s seen Jungkook inhale the one-of-everything box on his own before, and still order more—and despite being able to finish the box himself, he still saves one for his friend.

“Do you guys live together?” Yoongi asks, turning a corner, briefly touching Jungkook’s arm to guide him in the right direction.

Jungkook shakes his head and offers Yoongi his shy smile, reserved undertones, the apples of his cheeks flushed as dusk approaches. “I like going over to his apartment often,” he says, shrugging. “I live by myself and it’s kind of… ah, lonely, so I try to surround myself with people as much as possible.”

“I wouldn’t understand,” Yoongi says, taking a deep breath of the crisp air. It’s still cold for early spring, but it’s refreshing after spending his day in the stuffy bakery. He wishes he still had the time to spend his afternoons in the park with Miran. Running the bakery on his own eats up his time. “Having a kid around makes everything noisy. Miran is the complete opposite of me. She has so much energy all the time.”

“I’m kind of like that too,” Jungkook says, humming a tune between his words. Yoongi looks up again, watching Jungkook mouth the words to something before adding, “I don’t know. I hate when it’s quiet.”

Yoongi nods. “I noticed the big-ass headphones,” he says, and when Jungkook laughs, Yoongi is overwhelmed. His breathing stops for a moment, his skin growing hot, palms clammy and wet. Disgusted, Yoongi wipes his hands on his jacket and leaves them by his sides, hoping the cold air will dry them out. “Did you grow up somewhere with a lot of noise?”

“Not really,” Jungkook replies, licking his lips. “I’m from Busan. A small part.”

“Ah, I always wondered,” Yoongi says, halting when they reach his house. Jungkook stops walking too, swaying back and forth, hands still in both pockets. “I’m from Daegu. I grew up there, then moved here after my service for school.”

“Cool. I also moved here for school,” Jungkook says, then takes a step back. “I’m glad to know you’re home safely. I’m sorry, again, for falling asleep in your bakery.”

Yoongi waves Jungkook’s apology off with one hand, digging through his bag with the other. “You’re fine, as long as I have the right to wake you up however I want,” he says, finally pulling out his keys. He brushes his bangs out of his eyes and smiles at Jungkook again, grateful. “Thanks for walking me home. I, uh, hope you get home safely too.”

Jungkook dips his head down in a short bow, waving as he walks away. Yoongi lingers outside his house, watching Jungkook jog around the corner, disappearing. He laughs a little, stepping through the gate, heading up to the door. Yoongi lets himself inside the house, toeing off his shoes, dropping his bag onto one end of the couch. A pleasant conversation to end his evening.

The rest of the night is quiet without Miran in the house. Yoongi heats up leftovers for dinner, and eats it while taking care of paying the rent and utilities for the past month. The peace makes Yoongi think of what Jungkook said, about hating when it’s quiet. Yoongi savors the moments of silence he gets, because between work and being a father, there isn’t much time to himself in either of those settings.

To unwind, Yoongi pulls a book from his shelf and cozies up in bed. He tries to read a few pages—he manages to get a chapter in before the Jungkook predicament takes over completely. Something about the way he’s been reacting to Jungkook’s presence is making him frustrated. Why does he get so nervous? What is it about Jungkook that makes him so intrigued, yet so terrified?

Yoongi tosses his book onto his nightstand and picks up his phone instead. He rolls onto his stomach, resting his elbows on his pillow to see the screen better, opening his browser. He doesn't even know what to type into the search bar. Yoongi doubts anything he searches would answer his internal chaos and disorder, but tries anyway.

what happens when

He stops. When what? Yoongi sighs and deletes the search, letting his thumbs hover.

why do i feel weird when

Yoongi backspaces again. That doesn't feel like the right question either. He bites the inside of his cheek, the same spot he was gnawing at earlier. Blood drips onto his tongue, smooth and metallic. Yoongi curses under his breath and sits up, bunching up a tissue to press to the inside of his mouth. He stares at his phone, picking it up with his left hand to type decisively.

what does it mean when i find another guy pretty

As he predicted, the results are pretty inconclusive. One website tells him that he’s possessed by the devil and he should seek exorcism. Yoongi deems that unreliable; he would need to be religious in order to believe that. One website tells him that he should see a psychiatrist, which he already does and he knows that definitely isn’t the answer, so he keeps looking.

After a couple more, one normal website gives Yoongi the expected answer: that he might be gay.

“No,” Yoongi murmurs to himself, finally taking the bloody tissue out of his mouth. He tosses in the trash, rereading over the two paragraphs on the webpage. “That can’t be it.” He has a kid. And Yoongi thinks he would know by now if he genuinely likes other men romantically, especially considering one of his best friends is Kim Taehyung.

So Yoongi locks his phone and tries to forget about it for the night. He tells himself that it was a one-off thing he felt, looking at Jungkook and thinking he’s pretty. He tells himself it was an objective opinion, the same way he looks at Seokjin and thinks he’s handsome. He tells himself it was a friendly way of complimenting someone in his mind. Nothing more than that.

Or that's what Yoongi thought.

He really thought that he wouldn't find other guys attractive. But then he catches himself in the act of checking out men his age when he’s in public. The first time is in the grocery store line, cart full, jacket sleeve being tugged with determination because Yoongi denied Miran the cookies she wants. Yoongi is distracted because the man in front of him has really built arms, but that's a completely normal thing to notice. Right?

A tall man with a dazzling smile comes into the bakery and orders a coffee and buys a sugar cookie with it. He’s beyond polite to Yoongi, and Yoongi is nothing but a stuttering mess, trying to keep himself composed in the presence of a beautiful stranger. He feels humiliated the rest of the day after the customer leaves, even when he silent-screamed into his pillow at night.

He notices that Jimin’s legs are muscular, evidently defined whenever he struts into the bakery wearing skinny jeans and heeled boots. Yoongi doesn't mean to, but he stares, and not very subtly. Luckily, it's only Taehyung who catches him in the act a couple of times. Yoongi is relieved to find that he doesn't find Taehyung attractive in any way.

Yoongi actively avoids looking at Jungkook, even when they exchange a handful of words every time he comes in and settles at his table. It doesn't work, obviously, because the gentle timbre of Jungkook’s voice gives Yoongi stomach aches and a dizzy mind.

Yoongi doesn't know what’s wrong with him. Every time it happens, he wants to bash his skull through a window. Or a door. Whatever's more readily available. He just doesn't understand where the switch flipped. How did he awaken this dormant, but apparently extremely gay part of his personality?

“Are you good?” Taehyung asks, during an off-night where Yoongi reluctantly agreed to buy dinner for him and Miran. The little one is busy shoveling fried chicken into her mouth, grease stains on her face. Yoongi leans his cheek on the surface of the table, clutching a bottle of beer with his right hand. Taehyung pokes his cheek with his index finger. “Hyung? Are you even alive?”

“He’s been like this all week,” Miran says, giggling around the food in her mouth. Yoongi wrinkles his nose, but doesn't comment. “I even tried giving him Syub-syub to cheer him up, but he just held him and petted the top of his head.”

Taehyung pulls at the neck of the beer bottle. “Hyung,” he says, tugging harder. Yoongi maintains his grip, frowning. “Hyung, you don't drink around your child. It's just wrong.”

Yoongi sighs, exasperated. “I think my brain is broken,” he mumbles, sitting up and pouring beer from the bottle into Taehyung’s glass. Miran stands from her chair, grabbing her glass of soda with both hands, sipping from the straw. “I’ve been thinking like you lately.”

Taehyung tears a piece of chicken off the piece in his basket, popping it into his mouth. “Me?” he asks, pointing to himself. Yoongi nods glumly—Taehyung is the only openly gay person he knows, who is pretty vocal about his one-night stands and sexual endeavors. Yoongi doesn't mind though, he’s gotten used to the nonchalance after knowing him for so long. “What’s going on? If Syub-syub couldn’t fix it, then it must have been awful.”

Yoongi laughs hoarsely at that. He wouldn’t call it awful. He’s pretty sure that would be some degree of homophobic and that's definitely not him. It's more confusing than anything else. There's no answer to the questions on Yoongi’s mind. He’s just lost. But talking about it in front of his kid isn’t exactly ideal.

“I’ll tell you later,” Yoongi says, keeping it vague as he finally picks up a napkin. He holds Miran’s chin in place, wiping the oil and sauce from around her mouth. “You’re so messy, Mimi-yah. Did you stain your clothes?”

“Oops,” Miran says, standing again, pointing to the dark spots of grease on her light pink shirt. Yoongi sighs and shakes his head, laying the napkin on the table. “Sorry Appa.”

Yoongi smiles tiredly—it’ll be a pain in the ass to scrub out before he washes it, but it isn’t a big deal. The last thing he’s concerned about is the state of Miran’s clothes. “It's fine,” he tells her, tapping the bottom of her chin. “Finish eating and I’ll think about buying you ice cream too.”

“Me too?” Taehyung asks, entirely serious.

“Didn't realize I was a father of two,” Yoongi says, amused by Taehyung’s offended reaction. He rolls his eyes and pulls over his untouched fried chicken. “Yes, you too Taehyung-ah.”

Taehyung grins and hungrily digs back into his fried chicken. Once everyone is finished eating, Yoongi takes Miran to the restroom to wash her hands. He pays once he returns, waiting for Taehyung to finish talking to the restaurant owner once they’re outside. Miran swings their clasped hands, singing incoherently. The more Yoongi listens, the more he realizes that it definitely isn’t a real song.

“Miran-ah, where do you want to get ice cream from?” Yoongi asks, tilting his head a little to be able to see her tiny face.

“It’s too cold now,” she whines back, stomping her feet. Sometimes Yoongi wonders how she always manages to go back to her temper tantrum days. He’s come to accept that it probably won’t ever go away completely. Miran smiles brightly, a tad mischievous, and asks, “Can we get hot cocoa instead?”

Yoongi pats the top of her head, looking up at Taehyung when he steps out of the restaurant. “We’re getting hot cocoa, Taehyung-ah, sorry,” he says, lifting Miran in his arms. “What time is it?”

Taehyung checks his phone before announcing, “Nearly eight-thirty.”

Miran tucks her head in the crook of Yoongi’s neck as they walk towards the only coffee shop in the neighborhood that stays open at night. “She’ll probably just fall asleep,” he says, licking his lips. “You still want me to buy you dessert?”

“Will you hate me if I say yes?”

“I’m offering, aren’t I?”

Taehyung laughs, nodding shortly. “True, true,” he murmurs, then shrugs. “I’m happy with an ice cream cone from the convenience store.”

They walk for a couple more minutes. Miran shuffles a little, her breathing slow and even against Yoongi’s neck. “Can I ask you something Taehyung-ah?” Yoongi asks, unsure of whether his question will give himself away too easily. He could cover it up with his general curiosity.

“Sure,” Taehyung replies, brushing a piece of his bangs out of his eyes. “Is it serious?”

Yoongi hums in affirmation. “I was wondering,” he starts, and schools his expression into something blank, trying his best to hide the true reason of his question from Taehyung. “When exactly did you realize you were gay? Like—I mean, what made you realize it?” He pauses. “You don’t have to answer. I know it’s invasive.”

“I don’t mind, hyung,” Taehyung says with an easygoing smile. It relieves some of Yoongi’s anxiety, although his shoulders remain taunt. “Hm… I was in my second year of high school. There was this boy in my class, god, I can’t ever remember his name anymore.” His smile turns into something wistful, nostalgic. Yoongi continues to listen attentively. “We became good friends. The type to visit each other’s homes often and, yeah, I just… started feeling these things and noticing what I liked about his appearance. I never told him, of course, but that’s when I put the pieces together.”

“So it’s been a while, then?” Yoongi asks, smiling weakly when Taehyung glances up at him. “It must have been confusing.”

Taehyung frowns at the ground. “Not really,” he says, kicking a stone. It skids across the street, tumbling along until Taehyung kicks it again. “I never liked girls. I was the stereotypical gay. Everyone just—kind of assumed I was, even before I came out. I would never crush on girls.” He screws up his nose. “It was kind of invalidating.”

“Thank you for sharing this with me,” Yoongi says, bumping his shoulder against Taehyung’s. “I’m proud of you.”

“For what?” Taehyung asks, a mix of amusement and astonishment.

Yoongi suppresses his larger smile and replies, “For being yourself.”

For a while, Yoongi sits on the story that Taehyung told him. He turns it over and over in his mind, cooking it from all sides, attempting to dissect each piece. Not everyone is the same, Yoongi knows this, but he’s thirty-years-old and having all these weird feelings about men. He tries to reach back in his mind, recall any other moments he’s felt like this, but nothing really computes.

Some days, Jungkook insists that he walks Yoongi home. They’ll make small talk for the short walk, mostly because Yoongi doesn’t dare inquire deeper into Jungkook’s life. He’s afraid that by getting close, he’ll just confirm these brewing suspicions. What would it even mean for him, as a father, to be attracted to other men? He doesn’t even know how that works.

Miran is intuitive—she registers that Yoongi is going through something, and doesn’t push him too hard or complain as much. Yoongi knows that she knows because he could hear her in the living room, telling Syub-syub that, “Appa’s so weird lately… he’s always daydreaming… I know Syub-syub, I just want him to feel better… I’m gonna ask Uncle Tae to make him cupcakes.”

Yoongi, indeed, does get his cupcakes. Apparently, Miran consulted Taehyung and Seokjin on making them, so they turned out delicious. He’s been secretly eating them before bed almost every night, because he can’t sleep when this dilemma is leeching in his mind. It’s the only thing he thinks about and he’s pretty sure he might be going insane.

“Have you been okay recently?” Jungkook asks, another night where Yoongi is closing up alone. Jungkook doesn’t even really ask to walk Yoongi home anymore, whenever he stays long enough, it’s just a silent understanding between them. “You always look like your head is in the clouds, Yoongi-ssi.”

Yoongi shrugs, placing both hands in his pockets. “I don’t know what it is,” he murmurs, stepping down to join Jungkook on the path home. He knows exactly what it is, and Jungkook’s appearance today is not helping.

Jungkook’s arms are mostly bare—which makes sense, the weather has been heating up recently. But he has one sleeve of tattoos, and his hair is tied back, and Yoongi can see all his piercings perfectly. He evidently has strong arms, and strong legs, and he’s still tall and pretty, but Yoongi also thinks that Jungkook is really fucking hot.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Jungkook says with an encouraging smile, leaning his weight on Yoongi for a couple of seconds. The perfume lingering on him is citrus, and Yoongi’s heart skips a goddamn beat, because what the fuck, that’s his favorite scent. Jungkook tilts his head to the side. “You keep staring at me.”

“You have a lot of piercings,” Yoongi blurts, the only alternative to, “You smell nice,” he could come up with. He clears his throat and averts his eyes, shoving his hands into his pockets. As usual, they’re hot and sweaty because Yoongi still gets anxious around Jungkook. “Um… when did you get them?”

Jungkook slides his fingers over his ears, the dangling metal clinking. “I have one more,” he says, and grins. Yoongi frowns a little, not quite registering what that means. “You want to see it?”

“Uh… sure?” Yoongi asks, still confused.

The confusion vanishes when Jungkook lifts the hem of his t-shirt, exposing his stomach to Yoongi. There’s something shiny in his bellybutton, and it slowly dawns on Yoongi that this is the other piercing. Something tugs at Yoongi’s gut. Or maybe his dick twitches, he doesn’t really know what it is. All he knows is that Jungkook just became ten times more attractive.

All Yoongi can do is clear his throat and say, “It’s nice.”

Jungkook drops his shirt back and folds his hands behind his back, nodding his head. “I got them over the last few years,” he says as they round the usual corner, onto the street that Yoongi’s house is on. “People find them weird. I don’t know, everything is so stigmatized here.”

“Trust me, I get it,” Yoongi says, recalling the dread he felt when he and Sejeong discovered that she was pregnant. He forms a small smile, grateful to be out of that time. “Having a kid without being married isn’t exactly the most traditional thing.”

“I always wondered but never wanted to ask,” Jungkook says, laughing sheepishly. It's softer than usual, more of a tired chuckle. “It’s just you and Miran, right?”

Yoongi nods. “Sejeong, her mom, didn't want to raise her after giving birth. She’s a doctor now, so she works a lot. She tries to be around for Miran now that all her schooling is done, but… I don't know.” He purses his lips. “Sometimes I wonder if she truly cares about us or if it's her guilty conscience for leaving in the beginning. I don't hold it against her, but I don't want her to force herself to be in our lives. We were okay before, too.”

“I hope she sticks around,” Jungkook says, stopping when Yoongi does. The walk home has begun to feel so much shorter ever since Jungkook started joining him. “I’m sure having her around makes Miran happy.”

“It does,” Yoongi agrees, taking out his keys from his bag. He swings them back and forth as he decides on what to say next. “Miran loves having a mother. I do believe that having two present parents makes a huge difference in her development. There's only so much I can do on my own.”

Jungkook nods and smiles again, no teeth. “Where is Miran today?” he asks, lifting his hands to take out his hair tie. Yoongi watches in a daze as Jungkook gathers his hair in one hand and re-ties it with the other. Yet again, he’s so entranced by Jungkook’s natural beauty.

“Inside, probably. She gets around on her own pretty well, plus we have a friend who lives down the street,” Yoongi finally says, pushing open the gate to enter the house. Something confident possesses Yoongi to blurt, “Do you want to have dinner with us?”

Jungkook points to himself as if there's anyone else Yoongi could be talking to. “Me?” he asks, and Yoongi nods slowly. “Are you sure?”

“It's nothing fancy but… it would be nice if you could join us,” Yoongi says slowly, gripping the gate so tight that he’s sure the metal will leave imprints in his skin. With panic rising in his chest, he frantically adds, “You don't have to, of course, especially if you have other plans.” Another couple of moments of silence pass before another realization dawns on Yoongi, scolding himself. “He doesn’t even live in the neighborhood, ah, what are you thinking Yoongi-yah?”

“Actually… Um.” Jungkook nods timidly. “I’d love to.”

Yoongi musters up a smile and sighs in relief, grateful that his rambling was actually effective. Jungkook slides past Yoongi’s body, his nose practically touching Yoongi’s. He continues to the front door, leaving Yoongi frozen and stunned. Despite all his wallowing and analyzing, he still doesn’t know why he gets like this around Jungkook.

After a moment to gather himself, Yoongi unlocks the front door and pushes off his shoes. He places them on the rack, venturing deeper into the house. The TV is on, playing a cartoon, but Miran is fast asleep on the couch with a blanket over her. He smiles to himself and fixes the blanket, picking up the empty milk carton on the center table.

“You can look through the fridge,” Yoongi tells Jungkook, keeping his voice low, wary of waking Miran. He shuts the TV and tosses the carton in the trash. “I don’t mind if you’re informal with me, you know.”

“I, uh… Are you sure it’s okay if I just look?” Jungkook asks, shifting nervously in the middle of Yoongi’s kitchen, feet rubbing together. Yoongi shrugs and turns away, more an attempt to hide his blushing cheeks. It feels like his entire face is on fire.

Behind him, he hears Jungkook shuffle towards the refrigerator and open the door. He starts humming quietly—Yoongi smiles to himself at listens, swaying along to the tune as he pulls out a few packets of ramen from the cabinet. It’s not something they eat often, but Yoongi is lazy, and he figures a young guy like Jungkook wouldn’t mind a simple ramen meal.

“You have a nice home, Yoongi-ssi,” Jungkook says, leaning against the counter. It seems all he’s taken from the fridge is one of Miran’s banana milk cartons, sipping it slowly through a small straw. “It’s cozy.”

“Is it weird if I ask if your place is big?” Yoongi asks, turning on the stove with a pot full of water. “I just remember when you first started walking me home, you mentioned feeling lonely.”

Jungkook gives Yoongi a ghost of a smile. It’s barely anything, and Yoongi wouldn’t have noticed it if he wasn’t watching Jungkook so intently. “It is,” he says, leaving it at that. Yoongi doesn’t know how to respond, so he doesn’t, instead focusing on cooking them dinner.

Even as Yoongi finishes preparing their meal, Jungkook doesn't speak much. But he hums softly and meanders around the kitchen, looking at the photographs on the walls and Miran’s drawings on the fridge and the tiny backyard. Jungkook eats well, with satisfied grumbles and wide eyes. Yoongi is surprised when Jungkook keeps eating, even when he himself is stuffed to the brim.

“I’m gonna wake up Miran—do you want something to drink?” Yoongi asks, setting out a clean bowl for Miran to eat in. He opens the fridge first and debates his options, settling for beer cans. He sets two in front of Jungkook, who only silently bows his head in thanks, then continues to go wake Miran up.

Half Miran’s body is sliding off the couch when Yoongi reaches her. He lifts her legs back on, kneeling beside her. Slowly, he strokes her hair and whispers, “Miran-ah,” to coax her out of sleep. Miran lets out an incoherent whine and pushes away Yoongi’s hand. He laughs and tries again. “Miran-ah, I made ramen. And Iron Man is here.”

One of Miran’s eyes peeks open. “The real one or the fake one?”

Yoongi laughs—he’s not sure how Jungkook would feel about being called the fake Iron Man. “Fake one,” he replies, knowing the “real Iron Man” would only mean Robert Downey Jr. playing him in the movies. “Appa already ate, but if you don't come now, I think Iron Man might eat it all.”

“No!” Miran shrieks, leaping off the couch. Her footsteps pound against the floorboards as she practically dives into her chair at the table. “You have to leave some for me!”

“You wanna race?” Jungkook asks, dishing ramen into the clean bowl. Yoongi sits beside Miran, opening the second can of beer.

“I’ll win,” Miran says, puffing out her chest. Jungkook seems to take this as a challenge. “Appa says I eat well!”

Yoongi fixes the strands of hair falling out of her ponytail. “Because you do, Mimi-yah,” he says, then takes a sip of his beer. “Should I count you off? Hm… Maybe whoever wins gets first dibs on dessert?”

Jungkook’s eyes grow big, nodding enthusiastically. “Okay, okay. Get ready,” Yoongi says, watching Miran and Jungkook adjust their chopsticks in their hands, preparing themselves. Yoongi holds up three fingers, folding each as he counts down. “Three… two… one!”

Immediately, Miran is slurping up her noodles, chewing aggressively, completely focused on her meal. However, Jungkook eats at a slower pace—he savors each bite, his eyes fixated on Miran. Yoongi knows what he’s doing. As Miran’s father, it’s obvious that Jungkook is going to let her win the race. His heart clenches and dances inside his chest. It isn’t often that Yoongi meets people who treat Miran the same way he does.

“Ah, you won,” Jungkook whines, pouting, his plump lips red from the spice in the ramen. Miran stands and raises her arms in the air, grinning from ear to ear. Yoongi leans back and watches her proudly, drinking from his beer can. “Okay, come on, tell your appa to get dessert so you can have your pick.”

“All I have is leftovers from the bakery. Sweet red bean bread,” Yoongi says as he stands, picking up his bag from where he left it near the entrance. He carries it back to the table, placing it on a vacant chair. “Did you eat all your lunch, Mimi-yah?”

“Mhm! Even all the veggies,” Miran declares, dashing across the living room to grab her lunch box. She brings it back to the table, sitting on her knees to take the empty box out, showing it off to both Yoongi and Jungkook. “Iron Man, do you eat your veggies too?”

“Of course I do. My eomma and appa would scold me if I didn’t.”

Jungkook smiles widely, the first time Yoongi’s really seen something other than a shy one. It’s a look that suits him, tiny dimples popping out on either side of his face. Yoongi looks away and shakes off the tension in his shoulders, picking out two small plates from the dish rack. He takes a slice each to serve to Jungkook and Miran, listening to the two bicker back and forth.

It’s easy to tell that Miran has an affinity for Jungkook. She already warms up easily to adults and other children, but Yoongi supposes that Jungkook is extra special because they both like Iron Man. He shouldn’t be surprised by it—he isn’t surprised, not really. He just hopes that Jungkook won’t be going anywhere any time soon. Yoongi hasn’t seen Miran this excited to see someone since Sejeong entered their lives.

While Yoongi cleans up, Miran drags Jungkook to the living room to introduce him to Syub-syub. He watches them from the living room and lets them talk, even as she babbles through yawns. She eventually drifts off against the couch with Syub-syub in her lap, head hung forward. Jungkook is beside her, fingers running through her silky hair, then adjusts her head to lean against the couch arm.

“I’ll put her to bed,” Yoongi murmurs to Jungkook, drying his hands with a towel as he walks over. He moves Syub-syub aside in order to pick Miran up, groaning a little. Miran wakes up briefly, long enough to put her arms around Yoongi’s neck and tighten her legs around his hips. Yoongi sighs, carrying her to her bedroom. “You’re so big now, Mimi-yah. Appa can’t keep doing this.”

“But Appa loves me,” Miran mumbles back, curling up when Yoongi lies her down in bed. He tucks the covers over her shoulders, sitting on the edge. Miran blinks her eyes open, rubbing one with one hand. “Appa.”

“Hm?”

Miran yawns and closes her eyes again, already drifting off. “Can Iron Man come more often?” she asks, and Yoongi brushes some hair away from her face. “He… makes me laugh like Hayoung’s dad.”

Yoongi leans down and kisses the center of Miran’s forehead. “Sure, baby. I can ask him,” he whispers, smiling to himself when Miran pets his hair a little. Her hand falls away when she falls asleep again. “Sweet dreams.”

Sighing, Yoongi picks up some clothes from the floor and hangs them over the edge of Miran’s bed before he leaves. He shuts the door behind him, letting himself linger by the door. It hits him, unexpectedly, the reality of how fast Miran is growing. It’s already been seven years and counting. Yoongi closes his eyes for a moment. He hopes he’s raising her right.

“Yoongi-ssi?” Yoongi lifts his head at the sound of Jungkook’s quiet, shy voice. He’s smiling, once more in that reserved, polite way. Yoongi wonders what it’ll take to be able to see that grin again. “I should get going. Thank you for inviting me.” He bows right after, and Yoongi returns the bow on instinct.

“You’re so well mannered,” Yoongi says, watching Jungkook put on his shoes. “Your mother must be very proud of you.”

Jungkook’s smile widens, just barely. “Thank you. She is,” he says, pulling his bag over both shoulders. Some strands of hair have fallen out of his ponytail, but he simply tucks them behind his ear. Yoongi watches dutifully, as if it’s the first time he’s seen someone fix their hair. “Your mother must be proud of you too. With the bakery and all.” He pauses, then frowns slowly. “Or… Sorry, unless—because of Miran—”

Yoongi laughs and shakes his head. “It’s the opposite actually,” he says, opening the door for Jungkook. “She was the first person to support me. We’ve always been close. If it weren’t for her, I don’t know if I would have made the decision to keep Miran. When Sejeong told me she was pregnant.” He laughs again, recalling the sheer panic that burned inside him when she showed him the positive test results. “God, I was such a wreck. My mom had to drive up from Daegu to get me to calm down.”

“Wow,” Jungkook says, and lets out a gentle laugh. “How did she convince you to keep Miran?”

“Hm… I don’t think I needed particular convincing,” Yoongi explains, leaning against the gate frame, Jungkook on the outside, curiosity written all over his face. “I just didn't think raising a child was practical. It wasn’t, not really. I was so caught up with school and I was working a lot just to afford living here. But… she’s mine. She’s my child, I wanted her in my life so badly. My mom knew that and could tell.” Yoongi sighs. “It took one conversation for me to decide to keep her.”

Somehow, this story alone is making Jungkook smile. His entire face is bright, this natural glow radiating off of him. Yoongi’s stomach is fuzzy, his vision blurring as he tries to focus on Jungkook. It’s become something beyond pretty, Yoongi thinks. Jungkook is beautiful in every sense of the word. From the inside and out, he’s becoming someone that Yoongi simply admires.

“Miran must be really important to you, then,” Jungkook says quietly, still wearing his massive smile.

Yoongi nods his head a little. “My everything,” he replies, just as quiet. He looks down for a moment, then back at Jungkook. “Is your car far from here?”

Jungkook shakes his head and takes a couple steps back. “No, no. It’s near the bakery, I don’t mind the short walk,” he says, his smile returning to the more graceful one. “Thank you again for feeding me.”

“It’s not a problem. Miran loves having you around, so.” Yoongi shrugs. “You’re welcome here anytime. Whenever it’s too quiet.”

Jungkook nods, biting his lip ring for a moment before asking, “Do you have your phone on you?”

Yoongi stands up straight and pats his pockets, taking out his phone from his jacket. He unlocks it and passes it to Jungkook. A few seconds later, Jungkook hands it back, and a new contact called “Jeon Jungkook (One-Of-Everything)” is open on the screen. Yoongi laughs quietly at the name and sends Jungkook a message. Jungkook saves the number on his own phone, and looks up at Yoongi with a big smile.

Ah, Yoongi’s heart. It might explode.

“I’ll see you,” Jungkook says, waving with his phone still in his hand. Yoongi waves back, watching Jungkook turn away and walk down the path. He stops and turns around, looking up at Yoongi again. “You’re a good father, Yoongi-ssi.”

Flustered, Yoongi laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “Goodnight, Jeon Jungkook,” he calls back, and shuts the gate.

It’s been a while since Seokjin has invited himself over, so Yoongi isn’t expecting to wake up in the middle of the night to his phone buzzing every three seconds. He reads the texts, which are all just Seokjin trying to get his attention. Yoongi rolls out of bed with a grunt, running his hands through his hair a couple of times. He flips on a couple of lights and opens the front door, unsurprised to find Seokjin and a half-asleep Hayoung on the other side.

Without a word, Yoongi moves aside, taking the backpack off Seokjin’s shoulder. He leaves it by his bedroom door, pulls some blankets out from the closet to put together a makeshift bed on Miran’s floor. Seokjin gets Hayoung to lie down and sits with her until she falls asleep, meanwhile Yoongi gets a second pillow for Seokjin to use on his own bed.

Seokjin uses the bathroom for a while afterwards, and Yoongi waits patiently on his bed. He’s far too awake now to go back to sleep, and knowing Seokjin, he’s going to try and avoid talking about what happened. But Yoongi knows that Seokjin always feels worse when he doesn't talk about it, so he waits for him to return from the bathroom.

The clock hits three and Seokjin steps into Yoongi’s bedroom. The lamp is dim, but Yoongi still notices his bloodshot eyes and sagging shoulders and trembling hands. Seokjin climbs into bed and sits there, eyebrows furrowed. He leans over and drops his head on Yoongi's shoulder, letting out the most exhausted sigh. Worried, Yoongi rubs the small of Seokjin’s back, trying to find a way to approach the situation.

In the end, Yoongi simply asks, “What happened, hyung?”

“She was drunk,” Seokjin says, followed by a disbelieving scoff. Yoongi sighs. This is nothing new—he isn’t surprised. “She was screaming at me from outside the house. Hayoungie woke up first, and she got scared so she woke me up too. I went outside to try and calm Jiwan down, but she forced her way into the house and passed out on the couch. We left after packing our bags.”

“Shit… Hyung, I’m so sorry this keeps happening,” Yoongi says, closing his eyes. Seokjin turns his head, pressing deeper into Yoongi’s neck. “I hope the divorce is finalized soon. I hate seeing you like this. You deserve so much better, you know?”

Seokjin sighs, hot breath tickling Yoongi’s skin. “I know,” he replies. “She kept asking why I married her if I was going to just divorce her.” He laughs, weak and hoarse. Yoongi’s heart beats with sympathy. “As if—as if I would have married her if I knew this would happen. I thought I found love, Yoongi-ah. I really thought I did, but the way she treats me isn’t love.”

“Do you?” Yoongi asks, sucking in a breath between his clenched teeth. “Do you… still love her, hyung?”

“I hate that I do,” Seokjin says, voice breaking at the end of his sentence. Yoongi doesn’t quite realize that Seokjin is crying until tears are landing on his neck. He tries to hold Seokjin a little tighter; tries to provide some sliver of comfort. “Why did this have to happen? I don’t know—why is my heart breaking? It’s not fair.”

“It’s not,” Yoongi agrees, opening his eyes. He uses his sleeve to wipe Seokjin’s cheeks and squeezes his shoulders before letting go. “Get some rest, hyung. I’ll close the bakery for the day. We can take it easy in the morning and sort things out as the day goes on.”

“Right,” Seokjin mumbles, breathing deeply as he pulls away from Yoongi. He lies on his back, eyes falling shut without another word.

Yoongi shuts his lamp and picks up his phone when it vibrates a couple of times. It’s only Taehyung drunk texting him—Yoongi shakes his head and messages him to come over if he has a bad hangover. He silences his phone for the rest of the night and curls up beside Seokjin to try and fall asleep again. It doesn't come easy, at least not until he knows for sure that Seokjin is sleeping too.

The morning is slow. Yoongi is the first one awake, washes up quietly in the bathroom before making a cup of coffee. He sends Taehyung and Jiho a message about keeping the bakery closed, and they both give short replies indicating they understand. Taehyung sends a private text asking to come over, and Yoongi agrees, mostly because he knows Seokjin could use a pick me up from someone like Taehyung.

“Appa?”

Yoongi sets his mug on the counter, tilting his chin down to look at Miran. Her eyes are barely open, hair resembling a bird’s nest. She reaches up for him, and Yoongi sighs before picking her up. “Is Hayoung’s dad here too?” Miran asks, leaning her head on Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi nods in answer, making room to place her on the counter. She pouts up at him once she’s situated. “Why didn't you tell me they were coming?”

“I didn't know,” Yoongi says, taking a sip of his coffee. Miran lifts both her hands, flicking her hair out of her face. “They came in the middle of the night. Something happened with Hayoung’s mom.”

“Again?” Miran sighs, frowning. Yoongi taps the center of her forehead gently to get her to relax. “Hayoung told me that her mom is mean to her dad. That her mom and dad don't love each other.”

Yoongi smiles, saddened by the fact that someone as young as Miran and Hayoung can pick up on these little things. What he’d give to be able to shield them from the monstrosities of the world, from what’ll break their hearts and kill their dreams. It's a harsh reality that Yoongi struggles to face as a father, despite the fact that he’s endured hardships and he’s still standing. In the end, he knows they’ll be okay, but the worry never fades.

“Sometimes… people will do things to make themselves happy in the moment,” Yoongi starts, setting his coffee on the counter again. “But later, they realize that they aren't happy at all. With Hayoung’s parents, they were in love and now they aren't.” Yoongi bites the inside of his cheek. Did he say that right? “It's going to be really hard for Hayoung and her dad, so you have to be extra nice, okay?”

“I’m always nice,” Miran says with a beaming smile, then slides off the counter slowly. “Can I have breakfast?”

Yoongi nods, pinching her cheek. “Why don't you wake Hayoung up to come eat too? Uncle Tae is coming over so maybe he can take you to the park after.”

“Yes!” Miran cheers, and scurries off to her bedroom.

The progression of Yoongi’s day continues impossibly slow. It feels never ending. Taehyung arrives while Yoongi and the girls are eating breakfast, evidently hungover, but wearing a comfortable smile. Seokjin wakes up in the late morning, dragging his feet across the wood floor, a distant look in his eyes. Yoongi doesn’t pick his brain until Taehyung takes the girls to the park in the afternoon. Even then, Seokjin doesn’t seem willing to open up.

Unintentionally, just with the wonky sleep hours and an afternoon occupied by two singing children, they end up skipping lunch. In the middle of the afternoon, Yoongi gets a text from Jungkook asking if everything is okay since the bakery is closed. Yoongi keeps his response as vague as possible, assuring Jungkook that everything is okay and that the bakery will be open again tomorrow. Jungkook sends back a message telling Yoongi to let him know if he needs anything with an emoticon tacked on at the end. It’s cute.

Taehyung sticks around when Yoongi decides to just order in for dinner, especially considering Seokjin has decided to become one with the couch, wrapped up in a blanket with Hayoung cuddled up close to him. Miran insists on pizza—and Yoongi doesn’t have the heart to deny her, so he orders two boxes of pizza (plain cheese and Hawaiian) and puts on a movie for the girls to watch.

Pizza arrives in the middle of the movie. Miran is yawning away already, nibbling on her slice. She doesn’t even finish it, because she falls asleep with her head pressed against Yoongi’s arm. He carries her to bed, tucks her in, Hayoung joining her when she realizes. Yoongi almost cries when Hayoung hugs him and says, “Abeonim, please care of my appa, okay?”

“I will,” Yoongi promises, and tucks her in too before rejoining his friends in the living room.

Yoongi takes his seat on the couch again, picking up Miran’s slice of pizza to finish it. “Do you guys want anything to drink?” he asks before taking a bite. He gestures at Taehyung to check the fridge. “There should be some beer in there.”

Taehyung hauls himself up from the floor and walks into the kitchen, peering into the fridge. He leans against the door and looks up again, saying, “No beer, but you have soju.”

“That works,” Seokjin sighs, sitting up. His blanket is still pulled tight around his shoulders, eyes still vacant and cold. Yoongi wishes he could do something to help without making it seem like he’s pitying Seokjin.

Taehyung returns and sits between Yoongi and Seokjin, setting down three soju glasses and two bottles of it. Seokjin pours the alcohol into the glasses, and the three of them down the drink in one go. Yoongi wipes his lips with the back of his hand and takes another bite of the leftover pizza slice, watching Taehyung lean on Seokjin. It still doesn’t seem like Seokjin is willing to discuss what happened last night.

Instead, to distract from the situation, Yoongi says, “I think I like someone.”

Both Taehyung and Seokjin look up at that. Seokjin with wide eyes and jaw dropped, and Taehyung with a raised eyebrow and expectant look in his eyes. Yoongi shifts uncomfortably, wondering what exactly possessed him to say that. Perhaps there’s truth to it. Does he like Jungkook?

“I don’t know if I do for sure,” Yoongi continues, lifting his hand to bite his nails, chewing the already peeling skin. “How do I know for sure?”

“How did you meet her?” Taehyung asks, and Yoongi tries not to grimace. Of course—his friends are under the impression that he only likes women.

Still, Yoongi pushes past that and replies, “The bakery.”

Taehyung coos. “That’s so cute,” he says, pinching Yoongi’s cheek. Yoongi rolls his eyes and takes another bite of the pizza, pouring everyone another drink. He finishes his in a few sips, setting it down again. “What’s making you doubt it?”

“They make me feel weird,” Yoongi says, pulling his legs onto the couch, leaning his elbow on the arm rest. He stares at the animated film paused on the TV, his reflection in the darkest part of the screen. “And it’s just… strange. I’m not used to it. I’ve never felt like this before.”

Seokjin drinks more, but doesn’t say anything. Taehyung taps his chin, then asks, “Do I know who it is?”

Yoongi screws up his nose and doesn’t answer, looking down at the unfinished pizza slice. He already ate two earlier and he really doesn’t want to finish this. It just looks so unappetizing now.

“I do, don’t I?” Taehyung asks, but Yoongi doesn’t respond again. “Ooh, is it one of the girls who comes in the morning? Ah… What’s her—”

“It’s Jungkook,” Yoongi blurts, then covers his own mouth, horrified. Did he really just admit that so easily?

Taehyung laughs, uneasy. “Hyung?” he asks, leaning forward to try looking Yoongi in the eyes. “You know Jungkook’s a man, right?”

Yoongi drops his hand, bites his nails again. “Yeah,” he whispers, heat rising to his neck and ears. “I know.”

“Who is Jungkook?” Seokjin asks, finally stretching his arm over Taehyung’s shoulder to pull him closer. Yoongi briefly smiles at them, before he’s reminded of the conversation they’re having.

“He’s a regular. Comes every couple of days.” Taehyung regards Yoongi with curious eyes, but Yoongi can’t meet his gaze. He doesn’t know how to talk about this. “I didn’t know you were close with him like that.”

Yoongi shrugs. “We’re not close enough where he speaks casually with me,” he says, wiping his greasy fingers with a napkin before returning the half-eaten slice of pizza to the box. Maybe Miran can finish it tomorrow. “But… He came over last week and had dinner with us. He’s so good with Miran.”

“What’s the problem?” asks Taehyung.

“Does this make me gay?” Yoongi asks in response, running his hand through his hair. That’s the million won question. “Or—what? I don’t know. I have a child.”

Taehyung shakes his head and squeezes Seokjin’s hand before standing. Yoongi looks up at him with his eyebrows raised. “Where’s your laptop?” Taehyung asks, crossing his arms at Yoongi.

“It’s in my room, why?” Yoongi hops off the couch when Taehyung goes for his bedroom door, watching dubiously as Taehyung picks up his laptop from his desk. “Why do you need it, Taehyung-ah?”

“Type,” Taehyung demands, turning the locked screen towards Yoongi. Sighing, Yoongi types in his password and trails after him back to the living room. Taehyung doesn’t allow Yoongi to watch, so he just sits back and waits. Seokjin whispers something to Taehyung, then laughs, sitting back with a smug look on his face.

Taehyung places the laptop on Yoongi’s thighs. Yoongi blinks at the screen.

“You’re joking,” Yoongi mutters, glaring at Taehyung. “I’m not taking this.”

“It’s what I did!” Taehyung insists, nudging Yoongi’s arm. “You’re not sure if you’re gay or something along those lines, so… A test!”

Yoongi pushes the laptop away. “No,” he says, but Taehyung pushes it back. “How does that even work? What will it do?”

Taehyung scratches his chin. “If I tell you that I think you’re attracted to men, based on what you’ve said, then that’s me being hypocritical. It wouldn’t be fair for me, a gay person, to tell you what your sexuality is,” he explains, then gestures to the test open on Yoongi’s laptop. “With this, they objectively tell you based on your answers, where on the sexuality spectrum you’re on. And I know it’s objective, because it told all my straight friends that they’re heterosexual.”

“Fine, but Jin-hyung has to take it too,” Yoongi says, warily pulling the laptop onto his thighs again. Seokjin shrugs and pours more soju into Yoongi’s glass. For some courage, Yoongi drinks it immediately and looks back at the screen.

It takes a little under ten minutes for Yoongi to complete the test. It’s short, but Yoongi kept overthinking whether he should be honest or not. He stares at the chart results with furrowed eyebrows and pokes a dozing Taehyung, turning the laptop towards him. “What does it mean?” Yoongi asks, heart beating so fast he’s sure it’ll jump out of his chest.

“It means the website thinks you’re bisexual based on your answers,” Taehyung replies through a yawn, looking at the screen with narrowed eyes. “That doesn’t mean you are, of course, but… do you feel like that fits you?”

“I don’t know,” Yoongi replies, rubbing his eyes with both hands. “This is still confusing.”

Taehyung closes the laptop screen. The look he gives Yoongi is one of sympathy, and although it’s probably supposed to make him feel better, he just feels worse. “I think…” Taehyung starts, reaching out to take Yoongi’s hand. Yoongi lets him, palms sitting flush, fingers awkwardly intertwined. “I think you’re in denial, hyung.”

“About what?”

“About liking men.”

Yoongi scoffs and lets go of Taehyung’s hand. “Isn’t Jin-hyung supposed to take it too?” he asks, avoiding Taehyung's unwavering stare.

“I did it while you were too.” Seokjin sticks his phone in Yoongi’s line of sight. The test put him on the bisexual scale too. “I already knew the answer.”

“What?” Yoongi asks, snapping his eyes back up to Seokjin. “How? Since when?”

Seokjin thumbs at the corner of his phone case, then sets it on the center table. “Since I filed for divorce,” he says, picking up Taehyung’s glass to drink what’s left inside. “You know, it’s the primary reason I’m getting it in the first place. The emotional abuse was something I realized later. Homophobia on top of that… Of course I wouldn’t want to stay in that relationship. As much as it hurts, it’s the best for me and Hayoung.”

“Hyung…” Taehyung says, trailing off into a suffocating silence. Seokjin’s eyes are watery, red-rimmed, but he doesn’t cry. “I wish you told us sooner.”

Seokjin shrugs, wiping his face with his hoodie sleeve. “I didn’t know how,” he says, following it with another shrug. Yoongi hates the dismissiveness, the way he brushes it off like Jiwan’s reaction to this isn’t something that bothers him. But it’s so obvious to Yoongi—he realizes that this was the key factor that Seokjin never revealed to him. Everything else begins to make so much more sense. “Obviously I know you’re gay, Taehyung. And that you’re okay with it Yoongi—but I was scared of getting that reaction again.”

Yoongi doesn’t know what to say, and it seems that Taehyung doesn’t either. Instead, they crowd Seokjin into a group hug and hold him close, making up for the comfort they weren’t able to give. Taehyung runs his fingers through Seokjin’s hair, and Yoongi clutches Seokjin’s hand with his own. It’s sad that he maybe understands the way Seokjin feels now. The fact that Yoongi might like men too is looming over him. Maybe Taehyung is right, maybe Yoongi is in denial. The reality of the truth is too overwhelming, so he shoves it down.

Maybe Yoongi can accept this part of himself another night.

As it happens, the acceptance thing does not go as planned. Yoongi resolves on trying to forget about it—what else is he supposed to do? Most of his time is consumed by running the bakery and being a father. Thinking about his sexuality and his massive “crush” (“crush” because Yoongi’s not in high school anymore) on Jungkook just takes away from that. He would rather figure it out when he isn’t so preoccupied. So—he’s ignoring it, essentially.

That doesn't mean his feelings stop growing. In fact, Yoongi is sure that they’ve developed exponentially, ballooning beyond what he can even fathom. Jungkook is just… he’s perfect, Yoongi thinks. He’s kind and shy, yet easygoing and funny. He carries this warmth in his aura, something that exudes off of him that keeps reeling Yoongi in. Yoongi would be a fool to attempt to compare this feeling to something he’s experienced before.

Jungkook still walks Yoongi home. He smiles often, the wide one, and brushes against Yoongi’s shoulder with a featherlight touch. He creates a bridge between them, outstretches his hand for Yoongi to take, waiting patiently. When Yoongi allows himself a sliver of time to think about Jungkook in a way other than friendly, he wonders if maybe Jungkook likes him too. But it seems impossible, right? Jungkook might not even like men.

Taehyung solves this doubt. He asked Jungkook about his preferences point-blank, while Yoongi was listening, hiding behind one of the espresso machines. “I’m super gay, hyung,” Jungkook had replied, laughing with a hand supporting his chin. “Surely you knew that already?” Yoongi blushed and hid in the office for the following hour.

“You’re really bad at pretending you’re unbothered,” Jungkook says, about halfway back to Yoongi’s house, effectively snapping Yoongi out of his spiraling thoughts.

He’s heading home much later than usual, the sky black and streets dimly lit by lamp posts. Not only did Jungkook fall asleep, but Yoongi drifted into a long nap in the office right before closing. He woke up half past nine to Jungkook shaking him, mumbling about how late it had gotten. Jungkook was kind enough to not only assist in cleaning, but to accompany Yoongi home too.

Yoongi sighs, hands shoved deep into his pockets. The breeze blows, tickling the back of his neck, hair flying in his face. Yoongi tucks the strands back and says, “So I’ve been told.”

“Long day?”

“Long week.”

“Ah,” Jungkook says, laughing softly. Yoongi’s heart squeezes inside his chest. “Well… I have ears, if you want someone to listen. Well, I kind of suck at paying attention, so maybe I’m not the best person.”

Yoongi smiles, appreciative of the offer. But he would rather rescind into a hole in the ground than talk to Jungkook about his impending sexuality crisis. He shakes his head instead, digging into the small pocket of his bag to retrieve his keys. Jungkook stops a few paces away from the gate, loitering with his head tilted towards the sky. Yoongi faces him, one foot past the threshold.

“Are you coming in?” Yoongi asks, capturing Jungkook's attention. His big brown eyes are suddenly staring at Yoongi, intent and focused. Unsure, Yoongi still adds, “You should come in.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says quietly, and takes a few steps to walk past Yoongi. His shoulder brushes against Yoongi’s chin. “Is Miran home?”

Yoongi nods. “Seokjin-hyung messaged me around five saying she got home okay,” he says, trudging up to the front door with Jungkook by his side. He slides the key into the lock and pushes the door open with his shoulder, letting Jungkook in first. “Help yourself to the food in the fridge. I’m going to take a quick shower.”

“Okay,” Jungkook whispers, removing his clunky boots and wandering into the kitchen.

Yoongi breathes deeply through his nose to calm himself. He walks quietly into his bedroom, gathering his most flattering of loungewear, which apparently only consists of a white undershirt and his most expensive sweatpants. It will have to do, Yoongi thinks, and carries his things to the bathroom.

For Jungkook’s sake, Yoongi keeps his shower short. The water isn't as hot as he likes it, but it suffices. The shower is the last thing on Yoongi’s mind, anyway. He’s more inclined to focus on Jungkook and the fact that he is inside Yoongi’s house once again. He hasn’t been inside other than that one time, but Yoongi figured it was safe to invite him tonight because of how late it is. He would feel awful, sending Jungkook home without putting food in his stomach first.

That's besides the point—back to Jungkook. Handsome Jungkook, who makes Yoongi’s heart stop and stomach flip. Half the time, Yoongi feels like he’s a fucking teenager again whenever they're within the same proximity. Yoongi tries. He really tries to keep his feelings under wraps, but it isn’t his fault that they bleed through his hold. He must look like a glass box to Jungkook. He might as well tattoo it on his forehead.

By some chance, Yoongi hopes Jungkook is impervious to his internal woes. Yoongi isn’t holding onto this hope very tightly—it's unlikely, given how observant Jungkook is to everything else Yoongi exhibits. Still, he wishes to hide. He hasn't figured anything out yet. Making a move on Jungkook right now would be stupid.

Post-shower, Yoongi first checks on Miran. His hair is dripping down the back of his undershirt even after toweling it dry, slippers on as he tiptoes across her bedroom. He perches himself on the edge, grinning fondly. Miran’s mouth is hanging open, hair a wild mess across her pillow case. Syub-syub is wedged under her arm, tucked safely close to her body. Yoongi fixes her blanket and kisses the center of her forehead.

“Appa?” Miran mumbles, groggy, eyes fluttering.

“Hm.” Yoongi greets her with a smile, stroking her hairline. “Back to sleep, Mimi-yah. Appa’s just checking in.”

Miran yawns and rolls onto her left side, facing Yoongi. She hugs Syub-syub to her stomach and says, “Appa's late today.”

Yoongi sighs, brushing back her hair. He blows along the side of her neck, hoping to cool her warm skin. “I know, baby, I fell asleep at the bakery,” he says, caressing her cheek. Miran yawns again and snuggles up to her mattress, easily falling asleep without another reply. Yoongi presses another kiss to her forehead before leaving in search of Jungkook.

Jungkook is seated at the kitchen table, spooning Seokjin’s kimchi stew into his mouth. There's a second bowl across from him, and a spoon, steam rising. Yoongi joins him at the table and quietly eats with him. They don't talk much; Jungkook only pipes up once. Even then, he only inquired about whether Yoongi made the food or not. He still praises it, even after learning Yoongi wasn’t the chef.

“A drink?” Yoongi asks, collecting his and Jungkook's empty bowls to place both in the sink. He turns to Jungkook, eyebrows raised. “This includes any non-alcoholic beverages I might possibly have.”

“In that case,” Jungkook says, squaring his shoulders. “Do you have banana milk, Yoongi-ssi?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Please stop being formal with me,” he says, opening the fridge. He takes out a banana milk carton, then puts on a pot of coffee to brew. It's not his brightest idea, to drink caffeine on top of his frenzied nerves, but the taste will soothe him. Owning decaf is considered a crime in Yoongi's eyes.

Jungkook clears his throat. “Should I call you hyung?” he asks, and that does something to Yoongi. His stomach twists, halting mid-movement as he reaches for a coffee mug. Already, the sound of Jungkook’s voice uttering that simple word is replaying in Yoongi’s mind. He is so far gone for Jungkook.

“I would like that,” Yoongi manages to spit out, coughing dramatically to mask his sudden tension. He keeps his back towards Jungkook, too afraid to even glance over his shoulder. “After all, I’m what? Five years older than you?”

“Four,” Jungkook says, voice timid and small. Yoongi imagines his cheeks are red. “My twenty-sixth is in September.”

“Noted.”

Jungkook makes a sound like a muffled laugh before asking, “How can you note it if you don’t know the date?”

Yoongi shrugs and slides the milk carton onto the table. “I’ll just wish you a happy birthday every day of the month,” he says, leaning against the counter as he waits for his coffee to finish brewing.

“You can stop on the first, then,” Jungkook says, poking the straw through the lid, taking a short sip. He shows Yoongi a small smile, a quick lift of his lips. “September first. You think you can remember that, hyung?”

“It’s close to Miran’s,” Yoongi replies, rubbing his chin in mock thought. This banter with Jungkook is so easy. “She’s August born. I suppose I could remember it.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and sits back, taking another sip through his straw. “When’s yours?” he asks, turning his chair to face Yoongi more.

“March ninth.”

“Pisces. Huh.”

Yoongi narrows his eyes and asks, “What? What is that supposed to mean?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “No, no. Nothing. Just a thought,” he says, not very coolly, even if that’s what he’s going for by averting his eyes after. Yoongi just lets him have it. He’s not sure if he wants to know anything about this pisces business.

“Couch?” Yoongi asks once his mug is full of coffee, a single sip already in his system. He expects to be jittery and fidgety until Jungkook leaves, not to mention that having coffee this late will definitely give him a restless sleep.

Jungkook nods wordlessly and picks himself up, moving slowly behind Yoongi to the couch. Yoongi kicks off his slippers to curl up on one end, feet tucked beneath him, clutching his mug with both hands. Jungkook sits on the other side, leaning back against the arm rest, knees to his chest. The room is quiet again, until drunk laughter flows in from outside. Maybe some young guys like Jungkook. Sometimes Yoongi gets jealous over it, but most times he doesn’t.

“Hyung,” Jungkook says, placing his empty milk carton on the center table. Yoongi hums in acknowledgement and slurps another mouthful of hot coffee. “Can I… ask you something personal?”

Curious, Yoongi nods his head once. Jungkook shifts, stretching his legs out. His feet rest near Yoongi’s, toes curling back and forth. Yoongi glances down at them, and nearly laughs out loud when he realizes that Jungkook wears toe socks. How unusual.

“What do you do when you feel lonely?”

Yoongi looks up at Jungkook again. He looks a bit sad now, eyes drooping, lips in an unpleasant downturn. His eyebrows are pinned together in the center of his forehead, lips rolled between his teeth. He keeps picking at the skin around his nails. Yoongi hates it immediately; he’s never seen Jungkook like this—almost broken. Like he might cry.

“Maybe it’s selfish,” Yoongi begins, resuming his bad habit of biting the inside of his cheek. He takes another sip of coffee. “I… It probably is selfish. I turn to Miran. She’s my child, but… somehow, I feel like I’ve known her my whole life. Even if I don’t open up to her, because that’d truly be selfish, she knows how to comfort me. I mean—” Yoongi pauses, choosing his next words carefully. Will Jungkook think he’s weak by saying this?

“I’m not very good at hiding how I feel,” Yoongi says slowly, running his thumb along the coffee stains on his mug. “Miran is old enough to see when I’m struggling. She… reacts differently, because she’s also young and doesn’t fully understand the way emotions work. But she knows that, as her father, I’m someone she cares about. She’ll comfort me in her own way and it helps. Because then I know that at least, I’ll have her. And I’m raising her right.”

Jungkook nods and exhales, still pulling at his cuticles. Yoongi watches, guessing that if he continues that he’ll probably make himself bleed. As someone who bit his nails as a nervous habit, he understands but simultaneously knows how bad it is. “I feel like it’s eating me alive,” Jungkook whispers, voice thick with what Yoongi recognizes as hurt. “I—I don’t know when it started. When everything just started feeling so unbearable.”

“I get it,” Yoongi says, mirroring the softness of Jungkook’s voice. “It’s hard to pinpoint.”

“I feel like—” Jungkook sighs. “Like no one sees me.”

Yoongi's mouth twitches before he says, “I see you.”

Jungkook laughs, a pathetic little sound. Yoongi frowns, troubled by it. Jungkook hides behind his warm smiles and bright laughter, but there’s always something within that aches. Yoongi understands; he’s not as good as putting up a front, but he’s good at internalizing. He’s good at tucking it away, keeping it to himself. Telling everyone that he’s fine, he doesn’t need anything. As he looks at Jungkook, it’s like staring at his reflection.

“I want to see you,” Yoongi says, correcting himself. He can’t claim to see Jungkook—he’s not even really sure what Jungkook does for a living. He doesn’t know where Jungkook lives or anything about his family or his friends, aside from Jimin. He doesn’t know much about Jungkook—but oh so badly, Yoongi wants to. He wants to see all of Jungkook, for everything that he is. “If you’ll let me.”

“Hyung—”

“Appa?” calls Miran’s, peering around the corner of the wall that the couch is pushed against. She’s gripping Syub-syub by his fuzzy neck, bleary-eyed as she steps into the living room. When Jungkook glances over his shoulder, the light returns to his eyes. He smiles, and so does Miran. “Iron Man!”

Jungkook laughs when Miran jumps on him from behind, clinging to his neck. “Hey Mimi,” he says, and Yoongi’s heart melts. “Shouldn’t you be asleep, kid?”

Miran somehow maneuvers herself over Jungkook’s shoulder, sitting in the space between him and Yoongi. “Yes, but Appa didn’t tuck me in,” she says, pouting as she hugs Syub-syub close to her. “I had to tuck myself in.”

“Okay, even if you did,” Yoongi says, rolling his eyes fondly. He sets down his coffee to attempt to fix her messy hair. “I came and tucked you in again just half an hour ago.”

“Tuck me in again again.” Miran lifts her arms to be carried, the stuffed dog left in her lap. Yoongi shakes his head, picking up Syub-syub, then his daughter. She clings to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Goodnight Iron Man.”

Jungkook laughs and folds his legs in, knees close to his chest. “Goodnight Miran-ah. Sweet dreams,” he says, and dramatically blows her a kiss. Miran giggles and returns the kiss, then demands for Yoongi to tuck her back into bed.

“You just wanted to say hi to Iron Man, didn’t you?” Yoongi asks, first stopping in the bathroom so he can brush her hair. She stands on the stool in front of the mirror, Yoongi behind her with the hairbrush. “And what did I tell you about brushing your hair before you sleep?”

“But it hurts,” Miran whines, chin tilted up as Yoongi carefully pulls the brush through thick knots. “Iron Man makes Appa happy, right? You always smile really big with him. You know, the one where your gums show?”

“This?” Yoongi asks, grinning in the mirror as he tickles Miran’s sides. She squeals and jumps off the stool, nearly tripping on her way back to her bedroom. Yoongi shuts the bathroom light and follows her, pushing the door to be slightly ajar.

Miran gets situated under the covers again, covering her mouth as she yawns. Yoongi sighs and tucks the blanket around her shoulders and waist and legs. “All good?” he whispers, getting a quick nod in response. “No more waking up, okay? Sleep until morning.”

“But what if I have a nightmare?”

“Then you sleepwalk into Appa’s bed.”

Miran giggles and nods, wiggling her arms out from the blanket to pull on his hand. Yoongi goes willingly, resting his palm against her cheek for a moment. She kisses his knuckles and smiles up at him. Yoongi cups her tiny face in both his hands and plants a kiss on her nose. “Goodnight, my Mimi,” he murmurs.

Miran reaches up and cradles his face just the same. Yoongi leans close enough where she can kiss his nose too. “Goodnight Appa,” she replies, getting comfortable again. “Can you give Iron Man a really big hug for me? He looked sad.”

“Okay. I will,” Yoongi says, and bids her goodnight a last time before leaving the room. He shuts the door quietly and takes a moment to breathe.

When Yoongi sits on the couch again, he doesn’t realize that Jungkook has moved to the middle until he’s taking another sip of his coffee. There’s still a distant look in his eyes, drifting into some far away land. Yoongi places one hand on Jungkook’s knee, patting it a couple of times. Jungkook turns his head towards Yoongi, breathing out slowly.

“Thank you,” Jungkook says, covering Yoongi’s hand with his own. He smiles, a tiny thing, but it’s genuine. Yoongi just knows these sorts of things. “Thank you, hyung.”

Yoongi shakes his head. “You don’t need to thank me for anything,” he says, setting down his coffee again. He turns to face Jungkook more, still clutching his warm hand. “I didn’t do anything.”

Jungkook shakes his head, leaning closer. He’s in Yoongi’s space, suddenly, that gentle citrus scent overriding Yoongi’s senses. “You comforted me,” he says, tilting his chin down. Long pieces of his hair fall into his face, obstructing Yoongi from admiring his eyes. Almost instinctively, Yoongi tucks it behind his ear, fingers brushing his cheek. “Hyung.”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Yoongi doesn’t even remember nodding in response before Jungkook leans in and kisses him. It’s brief, a peck. Yoongi doesn’t even have a chance to register it; his heart is racing too much and he’s sweating in too many places and Jungkook's perfume is overwhelmingly strong. Jungkook is looking over his face, searching for something. He starts to lean in again, and this time, Yoongi meets him halfway.

Yoongi doesn’t know the last time he kissed someone. He never actively searched for a new partner after breaking up with Sejeong. There were too many things on his plate, with being a father and attending school and juggling work. When Miran was an infant, he had his mother around to support him, but that still didn’t give him the time. The amount of work he had for his job never eased up, so Yoongi never managed to be with someone.

Regardless how long it’s been, it feels like Yoongi is kissing someone for the first time. He has anxious butterflies and curling toes; there’s a hand sitting on the bottom of his chin, a cool lip ring slowly indenting the corner of his mouth. Yoongi releases Jungkook’s hand in favor of holding his face, thumb on his jaw, feeling it shift whenever he kisses deeper. Kissing Jungkook is surreal—even with their lips pressed together, Yoongi is in disbelief.

“I like you so much,” Jungkook breathes, lips barely a couple inches apart. Yoongi’s fingers are tracing the collar of Jungkook’s t-shirt, struggling to look him in the eye. Jungkook likes him back. “Hyung, I like you.”

“I like you too,” Yoongi finds himself saying, unsure of what it means. “I have a daughter, Jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook laughs. “I know that,” he mumbles, turning Yoongi’s chin so they’re looking at each other. Yoongi shuts his eyes, still avoiding eye contact. “I’m okay with that. Your priorities are with her, as a father. That’s okay.”

“Jungkook…” Yoongi trails off, uncertainty worming into his brain. How is he supposed to say that he has no idea what he’s doing? That he doesn’t even know what his sexuality is, or what this could mean as a father raising his daughter alone?

Yoongi flickers his eyes open, finding Jungkook staring at him earnestly, lips pressed into a small pout. “We like each other,” Jungkook says, free hand finding Yoongi’s. Their fingers slide together, easy and perfect. Yoongi's breathing is shallow and unsteady; Jungkook keeps watching him intently. “We can take it at whatever pace you want. Slow, fast—I don’t care. But please don’t turn me down, even if you think you might break my heart.”

“Jungkook—”

“We like each other,” Jungkook repeats. Yoongi nods his head, although he hasn’t processed this fact yet. They like each other. What does it mean? “I won’t let you turn me down unless you have a good reason.”

Yoongi doesn’t have a good reason. He doesn’t want to turn Jungkook down. He wants this.

“Are you asking me to date you?” Yoongi asks, letting out a hoarse laugh. He clears his throat and finds Jungkook’s eyes again. “I want to date you.”

“Then…” Jungkook leans forward and pecks Yoongi’s nose. “I guess we’re dating.”

“Hey hyung.”

At the sound of Jungkook’s voice, Yoongi’s breath stutters for a moment. He shouldn’t be surprised that Jungkook is here, in the bakery. After all, Yoongi picked up on what Jungkook’s visiting pattern is. Four times a week, he comes to the bakery to work. Monday, Tuesday—skip Wednesday and Thursday—then back again on Friday and Saturday. That two days gap between the visits always feels excruciatingly long.

It’s Friday today, a mere two days since Yoongi last saw him. They haven't texted much, because Yoongi doesn’t like using his phone and Jungkook doesn’t answer for hours at a time when he does. As much as Yoongi wants to know what Jungkook is up to, it’s stress-inducing to send a message and obsessively check his notifications for an answer. He has work to do; a bakery to run.

“Hi,” Yoongi says, shoulders tense, lifting his chin to look at Jungkook properly. “How are you?”

Jungkook shrugs. “No different from usual,” he says, running a hand through his long hair. Yoong watches the movement, asking himself why he didn’t take the opportunity to touch it when they kissed. “Can I get my usual? And maybe… an iced americano this time.”

“An iced americano,” Yoongi murmurs, chuckling to himself as he adds each available item to Jungkook’s order. His face is burning, which only means he’s blushing. “That’s my drink.”

“Hm… Then make that two iced americanos,” Jungkook says, leaning his weight on the counter.

Yoongi shakes his head and says, “You’re one smooth talker, aren’t you Jeon Jungkook?”

Jungkook grins and reaches out to touch Yoongi’s earlobe, adjusting his earring. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t fluster you?” he asks with a cheeky smile. Yoongi swats his hand away, sticking out his index finger, but Jungkook only sticks out his own to press their fingertips together. He drops his hand to swipe his credit card. “Care to sit with me for a bit today?”

“I’ll try,” Yoongi says, lowering his hand to complete the transaction. “Doing some special training with Jiho. Teaching her about baking cupcakes today.”

Jungkook frowns a little. “You make cupcakes?”

“I’m a baker.”

“Yeah but—” He gesticulates towards the bakery display on Yoongi’s right. “—You don’t have them out here?”

Yoongi leans his weight on the counter, amused at his surprise. “Jungkook-ah, I take cupcakes and cakes for order. You didn’t know this? It’s on the door that you walk through every time you come here.”

“I’m going to sit down before I make a further fool of myself,” Jungkook grumbles, scurrying off towards his usual table. Yoongi smiles after him, inexplicably fond, and goes on to make the two iced americanos.

After delivering Jungkook’s pastries and coffee to his table, Yoongi leaves Taehyung in charge of customers before retreating to the kitchen. Jiho is already standing at a mixer, working on the batter for the cupcake order. Yoongi pulls on a backwards cap to keep his hair down and tugs on some gloves before joining her.

“That should be enough,” Yoongi says, switching off the machine, letting the beaters come to a standstill. He removes the bowl and mixes the batter slowly with a whisk, trying to gauge a feel for the consistency. “Look at it. What do you think?”

“It looks like batter, sunbae,” Jiho replies, leaning her hips on the counter. Yoongi frowns and looks at her pointedly. There's a lot more to what's in this bowl than batter. Jiho sighs and peers into the bowl again, clicking her tongue once. “It's smooth. Liquidy, mostly. Kind of lumpy.” She glances at Yoongi for a moment. “Too lumpy? More mixing?”

“Good,” Yoongi says, handing off the bowl to her. He places the whisk in her hand, watching her begin to beat it carefully. “We do this last part without the machine so it doesn't accidentally become too thin. Thin batter is what we aim for with cupcakes, but if it's too thin then it won't rise properly. Imagine serving a completely flat cupcake.”

Jiho wrinkles her nose as she stirs. “Awful,” she says, laughing. “So the lumps… help it rise?”

“That's the flour, but yes. Essentially,” Yoongi answers as he crosses the kitchen, retrieving one cupcake tray. He sets baking cups in four slots—the customer only requested twenty cupcakes, but Yoongi figures there's no harm in making extra. Especially because then they can taste test; truly guarantee that that batter is sufficient. “Even if the customer is picking this order up tomorrow, I like to prep and pour the batter today. That way there's less for me to do tomorrow. Today though, we’ll pour out four and bake them.”

Yoongi supervises as Jiho pours batter into four different baking cups, trying not to lecture her about putting too much or too little. Jiho is clumsy; she’s a hard worker. Ambitious and diligent, but lacks a baker’s steady hand and calm mind. Not to say Yoongi is calm when he works, but he can easily divide his focus between work and the rest of his life. Even throughout the Jungkook-sexuality debacle.

They bake cupcakes for fifteen minutes, meanwhile clearing up the mess. Yoongi stores the batter in the fridge, bringing out the piping tubes. Jiho bombards him with questions about opening the bakery, about his journey from being someone’s apprentice to owning his own shop. Yoongi indulges, letting the cupcake cool once the timer sets off. He instructs Jiho to frost three of them, while he does one.

“Why are you decorating it?” Jiho asks, watching Yoongi mix a couple drops of dye with white fondant.

Yoongi hesitates before saying, “My boyfriend didn't know I made cupcakes too, so I’m going to give it to him to try.”

Jiho gasps dramatically, as Yoongi thought she would. “Boyfriend?” she shrieks, and Yoongi is grateful that the noise between the kitchen and the seating doesn't travel easily. He hasn't managed to tell Taehyung yet. He hasn't told Seokjin about it either. “What—when?”

“It's new,” Yoongi admits, biting the inside of his cheek. He rolls out the fondant and cuts out Jungkook's initials with a small knife. “Honestly, I’m surprised he didn't know. He buys one of everything whenever he’s here.”

“Your boyfriend is Jungkook?”

“Yes?” Yoongi meticulously arranges the letters to spell Jungkook's name across the top of the frosting. It isn't his best work, but it will undoubtedly make Jungkook smile. “Quit butting into my personal life. Clean this up and I’ll let you go home early.”

Jiho immediately turns away, mumbling to herself. Yoongi lets the frosting cool in the fridge for another handful of minutes, cleaning up with Jiho in the meantime. Once his timer goes off, he plates the cupcake in a serving plate with a dessert fork.

When Yoongi peers into the bakery, he spots Jungkook working with his head down. His hair is blocking the side of his face, but it’s hard to miss him with those massive headphones over his ears. Yoongi takes a deep breath and glances down at the decorated cupcake—is it too cheesy for a new relationship? Is he rushing into this?

Stop overthinking, Yoongi tells himself.

He calmly walks towards Jungkook’s table, setting the plate down beside Jungkook’s drawing tablet. Yoongi lingers, then pulls out the chair beside him to sit. Jungkook lifts his head a little, laying his digital pencil on the table, sliding his headphones to sit around his neck. Yoongi recognizes the song as something from the charts.

“Try it,” Yoongi says, pushing the plate closer, setting the fork on the edge.

“Did you write my name?” Jungkook asks, giggling as he picks up the fork. He slowly pulls down one side of the baking cup, digging his fork into the cupcake. He lifts the bite into his mouth and clamps his lips over the end, pulling the fork out. He chews slowly—Yoongi holds his breath—and his eyes light up. “Hyung!”

Yoongi releases his breath and asks, “You like it?”

“I love it,” Jungkook replies, taking another bite. He shakes his head, sitting back, the tiny fork still clutched in his hand. Yoongi is relieved—even though Jungkook has tried almost all his creations, given he buys one of everything, Yoongi was unsure of whether he would enjoy it or not. “Can I get these every time?”

“Please don’t put me through that,” Yoongi says, laughing, watching Jungkook abandon the fork altogether. He picks up the cupcake, peeling off the rest of the wrapping, taking a large bite. Yoongi laughs again, taking a napkin out of his apron to wipe excess frosting on his nose. “I’m glad, Jungkook-ah.”

“I know you went to culinary school and stuff,” Jungkook says between bites, shifting his head to get his hair out of his face. “So is baking all you can do? Or… do you cook as well?”

Yoongi licks his lips and leans his elbow on the table, cherishing the sight of his new boyfriend happily shoving a cupcake he made into his mouth. “Why don’t you come over and I’ll cook for you, properly?” he asks, watching Jungkook wipe his fingers with a napkin. He nods eagerly, a large smile overtaking his face. Yoongi nearly tells him he looks beautiful, but resists. “Is there any meal you want that isn’t Korean?”

“That isn’t Korean?” Jungkook repeats, rubbing his chin. Yoongi waits, sorting through a list of dishes he learned to make while in school. There’s too many things, Yoongi hardly remembers them all. It’s been six years since he finished school, anyway. Jungkook makes a noise in the back of his throat and says, “Ooh, I know. Can you make pasta?”

“I can do that,” Yoongi says, nodding. “Why don’t you come tomorrow night?”

Jungkook’s expression shifts. “I can’t tomorrow,” he says, shaking his head. His eyes have grown serious, softer around the edges. Yoongi wonders what would cause such a sudden change. “I’m busy all throughout next week. Just—work stuff. How’s next Friday instead?”

Yoongi won’t lie, the mention of Jungkook’s work piques his interest. But he’s so lost in the world of dating, that he doesn’t even know if he’s allowed to ask his boyfriend about it. Yoongi is positive that Jungkook has had more experience dating, and with dating other men at that, so he decides to keep his mouth shut. He feels too far in deep with Jungkook to ask now, anyway.

“Okay,” Yoongi says instead, forcing a small smile. Jungkook picks up his digital pencil again, twirling it in his hand. “Next Friday. Come over and have dinner with us.”

“It’s a date.” Jungkook smiles, cheeky, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek. “A family-friendly date.”

Yoongi nods, opening his mouth to respond, then closes it. He smiles instead, too afraid to ask for anything more than what Jungkook has already given him. There’s no way of knowing that what Yoongi is doing is right. They might be dating now, but there’s still a long way to go before they've really gotten to know each other. Yoongi is terrified.

“I want to kiss you so badly,” Jungkook mumbles, just loud enough for Yoongi to hear. Instantly, his face is hot, unable to meet Jungkook’s eyes. He’s so bold, and Yoongi is not used to it. He’s not used to anyone being interested in him in the first place. “Can I?”

“You can,” Yoongi says, looking up when Jungkook lifts his chin. His eyes flutter shut when Jungkook presses a fleeting kiss against his lips. Slowly, he reopens his eyes, Jungkook’s face a mere few inches away. He’s so close that Yoongi notices moles on his face, a scar near his cheekbone. He’s so beautiful, Yoongi thinks, reaching up to tuck Jungkook's hair behind his ear.

Jungkook lets go and smiles, oddly sheepish considering how straightforward he’s been with Yoongi. “Back to work,” he whispers, pushing Yoongi’s shoulder.

With a shake of his head, Yoongi lets the back of his hand brush against Jungkook’s as he rises to his feet. He collects Jungkook’s empty class and the plate, sending them with Jiho into the kitchen to clean before she leaves. Yoongi takes a seat at the register, pulling his phone out of his apron, checking his text messages. There’s one from Seokjin, asking if it’s okay to come by the bakery.

Just as Yoongi is typing out a response, he hears Seokjin’s voice call, “Yoongi-yah.”

“Hyung,” Yoongi says, setting down his phone. He looks up to meet Seokjin’s gaze, surprised to find him smiling. It feels like ages since he’s seen his hyung smile, especially like this. “I thought you’d be working today.”

“I have some free time before I have to pick up the girls from school,” Seokjin replies, running his fingers through the side of his hair. Yoongi nods and slips his hands into the pockets of his apron. “And… I wanted to tell you the good news in-person.”

Yoongi lifts his eyebrows. “Good news?” he asks, not wanting to jump to conclusions. It could be completely unrelated to Seokjin’s pending divorce. But by the look on Seokjin’s face, he suspects that it has something to do with this upbeat mood. “Do you want to order something before you tell me?”

Seokjin shakes his head, but still gestures towards a vacant table near the entrance. Yoongi nods and picks up his phone again, glancing at Jungkook as he passes. He sits across from Seokjin, folding his hands in his lap. “What’s this about?” Yoongi asks, rolling his shoulders back in an attempt to force himself to relax.

“Jiwan backed down,” Seokjin says, eyes wide, smiling softer now. Yoongi tilts his head to the side, unsure of what that means. She backed down? “She—she’s going to sign the papers. The divorce ones and the ones that give me full custody of Hayoung.”

Slowly, a smile grows onto Yoongi’s face. “Really?” he asks, straightening his back. He reaches for Seokjin’s hands when he notices the tears in his eyes. It’s been over a year since Seokjin started fighting for himself, and this must feel like a dream to him. “Hyung. Finally… I’m so glad.”

Seokjin latches onto Yoongi’s. “Me too,” he says, sniffling. He lifts his chin, releasing Yoongi’s hand to wipe his cheeks for a moment. “Is Taehyung here? I want to tell him too.”

“He’s in the office.”

When Seokjin stands, Yoongi follows. He grabs onto Seokjin’s sleeve to stop him from going into the back. Hesitant, Yoongi steps closer and puts his arms around Seokjin’s middle, pulling him into a hug. They don't show physical affection often, certainly not hugging, but Yoongi is so proud of him. He’s come so far as a father. Yoongi isn't great at expressing himself through words, so he hopes the hug speaks for him.

“Thank you for everything,” Seokjin says as he squeezes Yoongi in his arms. “You’re a good friend, Yoongi-yah.”

“Uh… I also have something to tell you,” Yoongi says, pulling away, folding his arms over his chest. Seokjin drops his arms and tilts his head to the side. “Look over my shoulder? The guy with the headphones?”

Seokjin cranes his neck, expression relaxing for a moment. “Yeah?”

Yoongi takes a sharp breath between his teeth. “That’s Jungkook. My boyfriend.”

Seokjin widens his eyes, and opens his mouth, but Yoongi is quick to put one hand over his mouth. “Don't.” Yoongi says, quick to identify the look in Seokjin’s eyes as intrigued. The last thing he needs right now is Seokjin interrogating Jungkook. “It's new, okay? I’m still figuring this shit out, so I’ll introduce you properly another time.”

Seokjin pushes Yoongi’s hand away from his mouth and whispers, “He’s cute.”

“I know,” Yoongi whispers back, then gestures towards the hallway. “Go, tell Taehyung the good news. We can get together this weekend and talk about everything.”

Seokjin nods, licking his lips as he turns away. He keeps glancing over his shoulder at Jungkook, inching slowly towards the hallway. Yoongi eventually shuffles to the left to block Jungkook from Seokjin’s line of sight, and flicks his hands forward to get him to move on. He’s glad Seokjin really is supportive, at least. Now it's a matter of telling everyone else in Yoongi’s life.

Breaking the news about a new relationship to Yoongi’s mother is simultaneously simple, yet overwhelming. Once he actually gets through the apprehension of telling her, he’s surprised to learn that she doesn't really care at all. Yoongi sits on the phone with her after putting Miran to bed, detailing Jungkook’s features and personality. “He sounds like a nice boy,” she tells him, before they hang up for the night. “I’d love to meet him one day.”

Predictably enough, Taehyung learns the news through Seokjin. Rather than going into Jungkook's appearance and mannerisms, Yoongi extensively explains to his two friends on how they kissed and started dating. They’re ecstatic to hear it, although the conversation somehow transfers to trash talking Jiwan and once again, congratulating Seokjin on his newfound freedom.

As for Jungkook, Yoongi doesn't actually see him much. He’s barely at the bakery for an hour come Monday, and on Tuesday he doesn't come at all. Yoongi messages him a couple of times throughout the week, but doesn't get a response. Doubt festers inside his chest quickly, growing on him like overgrown vines, binding his lungs tight. Yoongi tries to snip it away, but it grows back with each minute he doesn't hear from Jungkook.

On Friday, Jungkook enters the bakery half an hour before closing. Yoongi figured he wouldn't come, figured he wouldn't even show up for dinner, so he didn't bother buying the ingredients to prepare. He didn't even want to tell Miran and mistakenly get her hopes up on seeing Jungkook. It isn't fair to her. Hell, it isn't fair to Yoongi. How is it that Jungkook is so busy right when they start dating?

“Hyung,” Jungkook calls, voice tentative and soft. He doesn't move further than the door mat.

Yoongi is behind the counter, hands curled into fists, staring incredulously at him. “Is this a game to you?” Yoongi asks, pain chipping at the edges of his voice. They're the only ones in the bakery.

“A game?” Jungkook repeats. He steps closer, shaking his head, a bucket hat tucked over his hair. His body is obscured by a large hoodie, swallowing his frame from his shoulders to his thighs. His pants hug his legs closely, familiar boots at his feet. His eyes are dim and tired, full of the loneliness he inquired about. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, the least you could do is text me?” Yoongi asks, reaching behind him to untie his apron. He might as well just close now. Taehyung swept the floor earlier and Jiho cleaned the kitchen before she went home. “I’m not a fucking toy who you can play with.” Jungkook flinches. “I have emotions, Jungkook. I felt awful all week because I didn't know where you were or if you were okay.”

“Hyung.”

Yoongi shakes his head. “I can't do this if you won't open up to me,” he says as he folds his apron. He slowly stops when Jungkook's shadow falls over him, his hand brushing over Yoongi’s. He’s around the counter now, standing on Yoongi’s right. Yoongi looks up at him. “I haven't dated someone since I was twenty-three, let alone another man. I have no fucking idea what I’m doing.”

Jungkook's eyes grow sadder, if that's possible. “I should have told you,” he says, pulling Yoongi's wrist. Unwilling, Yoongi drifts after him, dragging his bag with them. “Can I show you why I was so busy?”

“Show me?” Yoongi repeats. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll see.” Jungkook smiles, mischievous. He’s always so secretive. Yoongi hopes this isn't a permanent quality. “I promise, you won't be mad anymore.”

Yoongi purses his lips. What could Jungkook possibly be showing him? Regardless, Yoongi has trust in Jungkook, so he locks up the bakery before they head off in the opposite direction of Yoongi’s house. Jungkook doesn't speak, hands in his pockets, humming softly under his breath. He’s evidently more at ease now that Yoongi is with him. While that makes Yoongi feel pleased, he’s also concerned. What has Jungkook been hiding?

Still, Yoongi allows Jungkook to guide him through the neighborhood. They weave through alleys and between houses, then Jungkook comes to a sudden stop. He turns to Yoongi, cups Yoongi’s cheeks with warm hands, and says, “Close your eyes.”

“What?” Yoongi reaches up, covering Jungkook's hands with his own. “Why? What’re you doing?”

“Do you trust me?”

Yoongi purses his lips. “Of course,” he says, frowning. “But…”

Jungkook smiles, soft and reassuring. “Just close them. Only for thirty seconds.”

“Okay.” Yoongi puts his trust in Jungkook and lets his eyes fall shut.

He feels Jungkook's hands drop from his face, lacing fingers with Yoongi’s. He leads Yoongi forward, slowly. They’re on a slope—Yoongi grabs Jungkook’s forearm to keep himself from stumbling on loose gravel. The air changes. It’s cooler, a little darker. Yoongi grips Jungkook tighter in fear. Jungkook only laughs.

“Okay. Open them.”

Yoongi flutters his eyes open. He’s greeted by a wall. He doesn't understand what he’s looking at until he takes a couple of steps back.

“Oh… my god.”

The wall is covered in vibrant hues. Mostly orange and green, depicting warped shapes of animals and people and plants. Blotches of red and blue, an ocean are at the bottom of the wall, the moon and stars near the top. Images of hands wielding together, feet and elbows and legs. Yoongi reaches out, brushing his fingers along the paint. Did Jungkook make this?

It’s easy to recognize the art style when Yoongi has stared at the Iron Man drawing almost every night since they’ve received it. The way Jungkook draws people’s faces, the details, all the way down to the micro-expressions. Yoongi takes a step back, finding a word written smack in the middle of the chaotic, twisted beauty. Geum. Gold.

“Geum,” Yoongi says, letting his eyebrows furrow. “I don't understand.”

“I was busy making this, hyung.” Jungkook gestures broadly to the mural. “Geum. It's what I call myself.”

Yoongi runs his hands through his hair. He doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know what to think.

“You’re an artist,” Yoongi whispers, as if he didn't know it all along. He’s always known this, from the moment he met Jungkook. How didn't he piece it together on his own? “Why didn't you ever tell me?”

“Because.” Jungkook cups Yoongi’s jaw with one hand, thumb stroking his cheek. Yoongi leans into it, although his eyes keep tracking back to the art on the wall. “You could look me up online and… make all these assumptions about me. I didn't want that, hyung. I just wanted you to see me as me, as Jeon Jungkook. The guys who order one of everything. Not the guy who designs and makes street art.”

Yoongi’s brain is rattled. He constantly questioned Jungkook’s occupation, what allowed him to drive a car at a young age, what made him have such a demanding friend. What called him away from the bakery this past week. And the answer was always right in front of him, hidden in the folds of the artwork that Jungkook worked on every visit. How was he so blind to this?

“Hyung,” Jungkook whispers, leaning his forehead on Yoongi’s. “Did you see it?”

Yoongi’s breath hitches. “See—see what?”

Jungkook releases Yoongi’s face, stepping back over to the wall stretched out before them. He takes Yoongi’s hand, bringing him closer. Yoongi doesn't notice it, at first. His eyes scan over the area in front of it, wondering what exactly Jungkook could be referring to. What did Yoongi miss? What was he supposed to see?

“Hyung. Here.” Jungkook points to a patch of skin. “Really look at it.”

“Oh…” Yoongi trails off, because no words can describe the way he feels, looking at this piece of art.

It's Miran and Yoongi, their fingers laced together. Their arms, traveling up into their bodies holding each other. Yoongi knows it's them; he knows his daughter’s eyes, her small body, the way her hair falls. He knows his own hands, the piercings in his ears, the pout of his lips. He knows the structure of his shop, the words Mimi’s Bakery adorning the top. Yoongi doesn't know what to say.

Before he knows it, he’s choking on his tears, trying his best to keep himself composed. Jungkook wraps him in a tight hug, but Yoongi can’t take his eyes off of it. That’s him and his daughter, sitting in the middle of a mural that Jungkook made. It's the most priceless thing Yoongi has ever seen. Jungkook has taken two things so dear to his heart and displayed it for people to see.

“I know it's soon but you mean so much to me,” Jungkook says, kissing Yoongi even through his tears. Yoongi does his best to kiss him back; he wants to pour out everything he’s grown to feel for Jungkook into this kiss. “Do you like it?”

“Jungkook-ah.” Yoongi sniffles, wiping his cheeks. This is still so difficult to believe. “Why? I just—I don't understand.”

Jungkook laughs, like the truth is so obvious. “I fell in love with you, Yoongi-hyung. You and Miran, I love you both so much.”

“Jungkook.” Yoongi cries more. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do.” Jungkook's voice makes Yoongi’s chest ache. It's broken, a little sad, full of longing. “I want to be with you, hyung. For a long time. Me and you and Miran. I want it. I know I should've said something, but I was so busy—”

Yoongi puts his arms around Jungkook's neck, holding himself close, breathing in that faint citrus scent that’s clinging to Jungkook's skin. Jungkook squeezes him, tight, as if Yoongi could disappear, but Yoongi isn't planning on going anywhere. No, he’s not going anywhere. Not anytime soon.

“I forgive you,” Yoongi says, sniffling, drawing out of the hug, despite how much he wants to rest in Jungkook's arms for eternity. “Come home with me. Stay for a while.”

“Okay,” Jungkook whispers, taking Yoongi’s hand.

The walk back to Yoongi’s house is quiet. The air is cool, hands intertwined for warmth, Jungkook humming low under his breath. Walks with Jungkook are one of the times Yoongi truly feels at peace. Between parenting and running the bakery, he doesn't have enough breathing room. Here, with Jungkook, Yoongi can allow himself to exist in the moment. Let his worries slip away for a short while.

Yoongi lets Jungkook into the house with him. There's the sound of Miran’s voice carrying over to them, hushed whispers to Syub-syub, most likely. Yoongi ventures into the living room once he removes his shoes, hugging Miran when she practically jumps on him.

“Appa, appa. Look!” Miran points to her forearm, where she’s drawn a picture of them together. They’re just stick figures, but Yoongi knows them when he sees them. “It's us, you know?”

“Mhm, I love it,” Yoongi murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, running his fingers over her skin. “Iron Man is here today. Is it okay if he hangs out for a little bit?”

Miran jumps up at the mention of Iron Man, looking past Yoongi’s body. Her eyes light up, sparkling as she runs towards Jungkook. She jumps into his arms, and he twirls her around midair. Yoongi sighs as he watches, content with the sight of his boyfriend and daughter getting along so well.

They end up eating leftovers for dinner, but Jungkook explains to Miran about his mural and real job. And of course, Miran has a flurry of questions about being a professional artist, ranging from how much money he makes to the kind of people he gets to meet. Jungkook answers each one with enthusiasm, meeting Yoongi’s eyes every so often.

He’s filled with love, Yoongi notices. The loneliness is still here, tucked into the edges of his pretty eyes, but there's love shining through, too. Yoongi isn't sure how he didn't notice it before. Love practically radiates off of Jungkook, in the way he talks and smiles and carries himself. He touches Yoongi’s hands with love, kisses him with it, breathes it for everyone around him to feel. Yoongi was blind—but he sees it now. He sees it everywhere.

The love is more than he could ever ask for. And to think, it's all come to be thanks to his little bakery.