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Minho enjoys spans of silence. It allows him the opportunity to watch, uninterrupted, the boy eating at his side. He takes careful bites of his beef and potatoes without ever taking his eyes off the book open on his lap. Large photographs of colorful lizards stare up at him from the pages. Sometimes, he’ll trail a finger down their spines. Does he imagine what they might feel like? Minho wonders. He takes a bite of his food with one hand and strokes his companion’s black hair with the other. The amount of food he can stuff into his round cheeks amazes Minho. It may seem creepy to spend dinner like this, unabashedly watching someone eat, but Minho supposes that’s just one of the disgusting habits love has made of him.
And God, does he love him.
Minho is in the middle of wondering whether Jisung would prefer a raspberry or a chocolate cake for his welcome home gift when his reverie gets interrupted by a tiny voice saying, “Daddy?”
Minho shakes his thoughts away and refocuses on his son, blinking at him. Even at three, his curiosity is insatiable — hence why he’s spending dinner paging through a book he cannot read — and Minho can sense deep wisdom behind his big, dark eyes. It simultaneously scares the shit out of him and makes him unbearably proud. “Yes lovie?” He replies, as if to also say, I’m right here and I always will be and I will give you anything you ask for the rest of my life.
“Do you think appa is going to call soon?”
Minho glances at the clock. It’s just shy of six, Jisung’s usual call time. “I think so, peanut,” Minho answers hopefully.
Minsu nods thoughtfully. “He usually calls during dinner,” Minsu states. Minho chuckles at his son’s deft use of the word ‘ usually ’. He was unaware it was in the child’s vocabulary.
“He does,” Minho agrees. “But remember, my love, if appa doesn’t call, that doesn’t mean he’s forgotten about us or doesn’t want to talk to us. He just might be busy.”
Minsu’s face falls, but he nods again in solemn understanding. There’s another way he’s just like his father: prone to anxiety. Jisung beats himself up over it often, despite Minho’s many reminders that it’s perfectly fine to be anxious and Minsu is lucky he has someone to walk him through it.
Minho doesn’t want his son to feel discouraged if Jisung doesn’t call, but he’s also selfishly desperate to hear his husband’s voice. Minho had long ago thought his heart was already filled to the brim when ti came to Jisung, but alas, the old saying about distance making the heart grow fonder consistently proves Minho wrong. Older and wiser, Minho now understands there is no limit to the love he carries for his husband and their little Minsu.
“If appa doesn’t call, we can film him a video. How about that?” Minho offers. Minus agrees to the arrangement.
Six comes and goes. Jisung doesn’t call. Minho texts him at five after: Jagiya, I know you’re really busy, but I have a three year old who misses his appa a whole bunch and would love to just say hello.
Quarter after six arrives. Minho clears the table and prepares Minsu’s bath. Jisung doesn’t call. Half past comes and goes. Minsu, all clean and smelling like his favorite pineapple shampoo, dresses for bed (with Minho’s help).
Surprisingly, Jisung doesn’t even respond to the text. Even when his schedule is at its most packed, he’s never known Jisung to go more than thirty minutes without replying with an emoji at the very least.
Minho settles on the armchair in Minsu’s room, their favorite reading place, and situates Minsu on his lap. He holds the camera in front of them and fusses with his hair through the screen, making Minsu laugh. Minho does the same to the boy. “We have to look handsome for your appa, peanut,” Minho explains. “He’ll probably save this video until you’re my age.”
“That’s silly.” Minsu declares as if it’s impossible that he’ll ever be Minho’s age. What a gift that would be: to freeze all of them in time exactly as they are now, before Minho’s hairs grey, before Jisung develops laugh lines on his face, before Minsu stops believing in magic. Minho dips his head to rest his cheek against Minsu’s, then presses record.
“Hello, Jisungie,” he half-sings. “A certain chipmunk here wanted to say goodnight.”
Minsu, desperate for closeness even through a screen, yanks the phone from Minho’s hand and brings it close to his face. “Goodnight, Appa,” Minsu nearly yells. “I miss you!” Then he stops the video.
“Good work,” Minho compliments, with an added kiss to his son’s forehead. He sends the video to Jisung without another word. “Okay, Min, what story do you — “
His question is interrupted by the trilling of his phone. Not a regular phone call but a video one. Jisung’s face fills Minho’s phone screen.
Minho shows Minsu the screen with a smile on his face. “Look who it is,” he enthuses as he slides his thumb across the screen to answer.
Jisung’s face fills up the entire screen. He’s already making a silly expression which sends Minsu into a fit of laughter. “Appa!” He exclaims. “You called late,” he adds accusingly.
“Well I’m sorry chipmunk but I was on a very important mission. But I’m calling now because I need your help.”
“What is it?” Minsu asks, intrigued.
Jisung moves the phone farther from his face. Minho’s heart backflips when he sees their front door in the background, unmistakable for its green color and the one of a kind placard reading “The Lee’s” given to them by Hyunjin at their wedding.
“Do you think you could open this door for me?” Jisung asks with a coy smile. “It seems to be bolted.”
Minsu takes off running — never mind the fact he cannot reach the door’s deadbolt. He beats Minho there by a good twenty seconds that he fills by jumping up and down and shouting, “Appa! Appa! Daddy is coming don’t worry!”
“Daddy is here to save the day,” Minho loudly announces as he twists the deadbolt to unlock and throws open the door.
Minsu is in Jisung’s arms in the blink of an eye. Minho is pretty positive Jisung was already crouched to receive him before the door even opened. He lifts the child with ease and steps into the apartment, holding Minsu with one hand and dragging his suitcase with the other. Minho takes his luggage and locks the door behind them, suddenly feeling a hundred pounds lighter now that he’s back with his other half.
“Appa, you didn’t call,” Minsu reprimands.
“Well, I’m sorry chipmunk but I was on a plane so I could be here right now,” Jisung explains, booping the little one on his nose. “And isn’t that better?”
Minsu nods, throwing his arms around Jisung’s shoulders. “I missed you,” Minsu adds wistfully.
“I missed you more, peanut,” Jisung gently argues as he kisses Minsu’s head, almost exactly where Minho had done the same not ten minutes before. Jisung and Minho make eye contact for the first time since Jisung walked through the door. A warm feeling spreads from Minho’s chest, like drinking hot tea on a cold day. Whatever melancholy Minho had been feeling earlier that day over Jisung’s absence, he could make it all disappear with one look.
“Missed Daddy, too,” Jisung tells Minsu, like it’s a confession.
“Daddy let me sleep with him,” Minsu shares. “He didn’t want to be alone.”
“Hey, that’s not true!” Minho shouts with a laugh. What he’d actually said was he wasn’t used to being alone at night. But leave it to the three year old to see right through him. He really is too much like his father.
“I brought you a present,” Jisung informs Minsu. He lets go of his suitcase handle to dig into his jacket pocket. “But I need to know — were you a good boy while I was gone?” Minsu nods emphatically. “Yes? You ate your vegetables and listened to Daddy?”
“He was perfect,” Minho ensures his husband. Jisung smirks at him and withdraws a keychain from his pocket. A blue lizard dangles from the silver loop.
“A gecko!” Minsu exclaims. Neither Minho nor Jisung bothers correcting him. Minho wonders if blue geckos even exist, but if any child were to know, it’d be Minsu.
“Do you like it buddy?” Minsu kisses Jisung’s cheek as his way of saying yes. “Aw, thank you, little one.”
“Minsu,” Minho says, suddenly stern. “I know you’re excited to see Appa but it’s past your bedtime. Do you think you can continue to be a good listener and finish getting ready?”
“Yeah,” Minsu says with a disappointed sigh. Jisung hikes Minsu higher up on his side, hugging him closer.
“Don’t be sad, chipmunk. We have all day together tomorrow. We can do whatever you want.”
“Will you tuck me in?”
“But of course. That’s why I’m here.”
Jisung pauses to take his shoes off before launching into Dad Mode. He carries Minsu to the bathroom, Minho trailing behind, and deposits him on the counter. He brushes Minsu’s teeth carefully, singing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star twice as he goes. Minsu’s cheeks are puffed to maximum capacity by the time Jisung finishes and instructs him to spit in the sink. He walks Minsu through rinsing with another cup of water then picks him up again, carrying him directly to his bed.
Once Jisung deposits Minsu on the bed and Minsu slips under the covers, Minho joins them. He sits on the edge behind Jisung, peering over his shoulder at Minsu, who clutches a tan blanket in one hand and his keychain in the other. “You’re going to sleep well tonight, Su-yah,” Jisung states with no room for doubt. “So tomorrow you can have lots of energy and we can play all day.” Minsu gives Jisung a small nod, interrupted by a yawn. “Now please thank Daddy for taking care of you all by himself.”
Minsu leans to his left to properly see Minho, a silent observer slouching against Jisung’s back. “Thank you, Daddy,” Minsu says, as instructed. Minho reaches around Jisung to lovingly stroke Minsu’s cheek.
“Ah, you’re welcome, baby. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Jisung kisses Minsu’s forehead and pulls the comforter up, tucking it under the child’s chin. “I love you, three, peanut. Sweet dreams. And if you need anything?”
“You’re just a holler away.”
“That’s right.”
Jisung kisses Minsu’s cheek one last time for good measure before he and Minho leave. Minho shuts the door gingerly behind him, a habit from Minsu’s infancy that he never kicked. As soon as it’s clicked shut, he turns to his husband and, with a sly smile, says, “You know one day you’re going to regret that hollering thing.”
Jisung ignores his comment. Instead, he cups Minho’s face in his hand and connects their lips in a slow kiss. Minho relaxes into it, lazily draping his arms around Jisung and tracing his spine through the denim jacket he hadn’t bothered to take off yet.
“Jagiya,” Jisung hums against his lips. “I missed you.”
“Missed you too, baby.” Jisung buries his face in Minho’s neck and squeezes him tightly. Minho holds his head there for a few moments, threading his fingers through Jisung’s honey hair and scratching at his scalp. Jisung sighs, content.
“Were you surprised?” Jisung asks. Minho can feel his smile curling up against his shoulder.
“Very,” Minho admits. “I had no clue. My soulmate senses must be off.”
It is unusual for Minho to not suspect a thing. Ever since the two met, they’ve had the uncanny ability to sense the other’s presence, even at a distance. It shocks their friends when they’re at a bar, or a party, and without looking at their phone or watch, one of them will turn to the entrance just in time to see the other walking through the door at that exact second, as if they were in a play and their arrival was choreographed. Several times, Minho has entered their kitchen, decided what he wanted for dinner, and called Jisung to confirm, only to find out Jisung was already at the store buying exactly what they needed. They also both decided on the name Minsu, independently, and sat down to dinner with their own list of reasons why the name was perfect — lists they didn’t end up needing.
“Must be the distance,” Jisung reasons. “Need to recharge our connection.”
“Ooh, sexy,” Minho teases. He tugs at Jisung’s jacket. “Come on, yeobo, let’s get you out of these plane clothes.”
Still holding the younger, Minho walks them towards the bedroom, guiding Jisung backwards like a toddler dancing on their parent’s feet.
“Hyuuuung, I can walk myself. I remember where our bedroom is, you know,” he says with a laugh.
“But you’re so warm .”
Minho doesn’t let go, even after they reach the bedroom closet. He allows Jisung to twist around so that Minho is plastered to his back instead of his front. Jisung grabs a plain white shirt and grey sweats to sleep in then passes a hoodie and basketball shorts, his preferred pajamas. Minho gives no indication of moving.
“You’re so clingy, jagi. Minsu must get that from you.”
How can Minho rationally explain that Jisung is the sun itself and Minho and their son are just planets caught in his orbit? That he will always be drawn to him, as deemed by all the laws of physics, for as long as his light burns?
“You have that effect on people,” Minho settles on, even if it’s completely inadequate. He kisses the shell of Jisung’s ear and lets him go, already hollowed from the absence of their bodies pressed together.
Minho doesn’t know how he survives it every time, continuing on with his day when half his life force walks out the door. He supposes he does it for Minsu. But the second Jisung returns, he remembers what it feels like to really be complete and the thought of losing the feeling all over again seems newly unbearable.
They dress for bed. It’s not late — Minsu goes to bed at 7, after all — but Jisung says he ate at the airport and isn’t hungry for anything else, so they climb right into their king bed. Jisung seizes the two second opportunity when Minho stretches for the television remote to drape himself halfway over the elder’s torso, throwing a leg over his hip and trapping him there.
“Ah, who’s the clingy one now?” Minho jokes. He turns on the television to the Discovery channel. Minho knows it doesn’t really matter what’s on the TV, it’ll just become background noise, but it soothes Jisung. He hates silence.
“You got handsomer,” Jisung declares with a dopey smile. Minho thought the same thing about him when he walked through the door, but he’s too shy to admit it.
“You got sweeter,” Minho counters, brushing a finger down Jisung’s nose. “How did it go?”
Jisung’s face falls a bit. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, contemplating an adequate response. “It was alright,” Jisung begins.
“Only alright?”
“I don’t know,” Jisung sighs, grabbing at Minho’s hand. “I love my job. And it’s amazing to work with so many out of town producers. Chan-hyung — he’s so good, you know? Everyone wants to work with him.”
“With all three of you,” Minho patiently corrects.
“Yes. But…”
Minho finishes the thought. “But it’s a lot.”
Jisung pauses, suddenly looking guilty. “Three trips in two months is a lot, yeah. Too much. I feel like I never see you, or Minsu. And I always miss you but this time… this time I really missed you, yeobo. I cried every night after our phone calls.”
“ Jagi, ” Minho breathes, heart aching as he gently kisses Jisung’s forehead.
“I don’t want to spend my life missing you,” Jisung admits, a little misty-eyed. “I don’t want to spend Minsu’s life missing him. I can’t become one of those absent fathers.”
“And you won’t, Sungie,” Minho swears, overwhelmed with sympathy. Minho owns his own dance studio, determines his hours, has all the flexibility in the world to maximize his time with their son. “I can’t imagine how hard it is for you to be away from him. But I promise the days you are with us far outweigh and outnumber the days you’re not. But, if you need the traveling to stop, you have to tell hyung.” Jisung’s hand start to shake. Minho presses them into his chest. “If there is anyone in the world who can empathize with not wanting to be away from their husband and child, it’s Bang Chan. Felix told me last week that Chan’s been feeling a lot of guilt about how often you’re away, too. And Changbin is a talented and capable guy. He could handle some of the out of town stuff alone. You’re a team, but you don’t have to do every single thing together, you know?”
Jisung nods, melting into Minho’s side as he continues. “You could even tell Chan you want to focus on highlighting local talent, if you want to be diplomatic about it. But I don’t think you have to be. He’s our friend and he’d want you to be honest with him.” Minho grabs Jisung by the chin and forces him to make eye contact. “I miss you every moment you are gone. That’s true even when you run errands for an hour. But I am far more proud than I am sad, and I think Minsu is so lucky to have a super cool dad with a super cool job that he is super passionate about. A lot of kids don’t get to see their parents achieve their dreams. That’s a blessing, baby.”
Jisung gazes up at him with big eyes, just like Minsu had at dinner. Minho can’t help but coo at him. “My prince, so talented,” he praises as brushes his fingers through his hair again. “Whatever you want to do, I’ll support you, okay? I just don’t want you to live with regrets.”
“I don’t have any regrets,” Jisung says confidently. He gives Minho a kiss that feels practically weightless. “Not when it comes to you two. I just don’t want you to feel like I’m leaving you to raise our son on your own.”
“I don’t,” Minho promises. “The last thing you make me feel is alone. I haven’t felt alone since the day I met you. Because we’re soulmates, remember? Even when we’re apart, we’re always together. You’re never alone, I’m never alone.”
Before Jisung can respond, a timid “Appa? Daddy?” coming from the hallway interrupts their conversation.
Minho smirks and gestures at the door. “Case in point.”
Jisung laughs and kisses Minho, more tender and sure than the last one, and then climbs out of bed. Jisung blocks Minho’s view of Minsu when he opens the door, but he’s sure he’s pouting and holding his little blanket up to his chin for comfort.
Jisung crouches to his level. “What are you doing out of bed, chipmunk?”
Minsu peers over Jisung’s shoulder to check that Minho is also in the room. Much like Jisung, he also doesn’t like the three of them to be separated. Minho smiles patiently at his son. “I don’t want to be alone, either, Appa,” Minsu explains.
Jisung looks back at Minho. Can you believe this guy? he silently asks.
Minho chuckles and shrugs, as if to say, How can I argue with that? I have no ground to stand on. Jisung turns back to the child.
“Okay, peanut,” he concedes, lifting the child into his arms. Minsu latches onto Jisung’s neck like a koala. Jisung closes the door, walks back to the bed, and deposits Minsu directly in the middle. “Since I missed you so much, I’ll allow you to stay here.”
Minho sits up with his back to the headboard and opens his arm to Minsu. “Come here, my love,” he beckons. Minsu curls up at his side, his little head resting on Minho’s hip, his tan blanket tucked between his arm and Minho’s stomach. Minsu glances over at the television.
“Are you watching a lizard show?” He asks with a yawn. Minho checks. There is indeed an iguana on the screen.
“Do you need us to change it to something else?” Jisung asks, getting back into bed. He flanks Minsu’s other side and rests one hand in his hair, stroking his head like a cat’s, and turning off the lamp with the other. Minho feels Minsu’s body relax into his as he shakes his head.
“Okay, peanut. Sleep tight, okay?”
“He’s just like you,” Jisung whispers, once he’s certain Minsu is deep enough in slumber.
Minho laughs at him. “I think we both know how much he takes after you,” Minho retorts, gesturing at the TV screen where the nature documentary drones on.
“Yeah, but when he sleeps.” Jisung carefully strokes Minsu’s squished up cheek. “Like a little cat, all curled up. And so affectionate.”
“And always getting in the middle of things,” Minho adds with a pout. “I was looking forward to holding you tonight, yeobo. It’s been so long.”
“Tomorrow night,” Jisung promises. He carefully leans over Minsu and kisses Minho’s cheek. “We’ll go to bed early again, maximize our time.”
“I’m holding you to that, jagiya.”
Minho and Jisung fall into silence, watching their son breathe between them. If there is an opposite to loneliness , Minho thinks, it would have to be this.