padfoot

Your phone finally stops ringing and you pull the blanket higher over your shoulder, already drifting back asleep when it begins vibrating again almost immediately.

You groan and search blindly through the bedding until your fingers close around it. Anton’s name glows across the screen.

That wakes you up. Anton knows Maya and Harvey are leaving today. He knows you stayed up with them and promised to be at his house sometime after lunch, once you had slept enough to function. He would never call twice this early unless something was wrong. You swipe to answer and press the phone against your ear, your voice still thick with sleep. “Hello?”

For a moment, all you hear is uneven breathing. Then a small voice whispers, “noona?”

You sit up quickly when you realize who’s on the other end. “Bug? Why do you have daddy’s phone?”

“Daddy’s sick.”

The last traces of sleep disappear. You throw your blanket aside and climb out of bed, nearly tangling yourself in it as you search the floor for the shorts you discarded a few hours earlier. “What do you mean sick? What happened?”

“He threw up,” Minyoung says quietly. “He went into the bathroom and told me to wait outside but I could hear him. Then he came out and laid on the couch.”

Your stomach tightens. “Is he awake?”

“I think so.”

“You think so?” You ask.

“He closed his eyes but he answered me when I said his name.”

You shove one leg into your shorts, trapping the phone between your ear and shoulder while reaching for a better shirt. “Okay. Can you go back over to him for me but don’t hang up.”

You hear the phone shift, followed by Minyoung’s footsteps across the floor. His breathing grows quieter as he moves away from the speaker. “Daddy?”

Anton responds with something too faint for you to understand.

“What did he say?” you ask.

Minyoung brings the phone closer again. “He asked who I called.”

Of course he did. Half dead on the couch and still worried about inconveniencing someone.

“Tell him I’m coming over.”

Minyoung relays the message. There’s another low response, followed by Minyoung’s immediate, “No.”

You drag your shirt over your head. “What did he say?”

“He said you’re sleeping and he doesn’t need anything.” Minyoung lowers his voice, though Anton is probably close enough to hear him anyway. “But he looks really sick.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Okay. Hurry, please.” Relief floods his voice at once.

You promise you will and end the call to jam your feet into the first pair of shoes near your door. You barely glance at yourself in the mirror before leaving your room, hair unstyled, yesterday’s makeup faintly smudged beneath your eyes and your shirt on backward.

Your grandmother is already awake downstairs, seated in the breakfast room with porridge when you rush past. She calls your name in surprise but you only manage to tell her Anton is sick before disappearing through the front door.

By the time you reach the front porch, the door swings open before you can knock and Minyoung appears in his pajamas, Anton’s phone clutched in both hands. His hair is flattened on one side from sleep and his glasses sit slightly crooked across his nose.

“You came!” He breathes.

“Of course I came.” You step inside and close the door behind you. “Where is he?”

Minyoung points toward the living room before hurrying after you. Anton is stretched across the couch with one forearm resting over his eyes, still dressed in a gray T-shirt and the pajama pants he slept in.

A half-full glass of water sits untouched on the coffee table. His skin looks pale except for the flush spreading across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose and his hair is damp along his forehead.

You stop beside the couch and stare at him. “Jesus, you look like death.”

Minyoung’s head whips toward you. “Is daddy dying!?”

You immediately regret the words. “No! That was a terrible thing to say, I’m sorry. He looks sick, bug. Not dying.”

Anton lowers his arm enough to look at you through half-open eyes. “Good morning.”

His voice is rougher than usual. You crouch beside him and place the back of your hand against his forehead. The heat beneath your skin makes your brows pull together.

“You’re burning up.” You frown.

“I’m fine.”

“You threw up and have a fever.”

“It was only once.” He argues.

“That isn’t helping your case.” You deadpan.

Anton closes his eyes again as though keeping them open requires too much effort. “You didn’t have to come over.”

You don’t answer and push yourself upright. “Do you have a thermometer?”

“In the bathroom, cabinet above the sink.” Anton murmurs.

Minyoung immediately begins moving. “I’ll get it!”

“Walk,” Anton calls after him without lifting his head.

Minyoung’s footsteps slow for approximately three seconds before speeding up again once he reaches the hallway. You remove your shoes and return to the couch, taking the abandoned glass from the coffee table and holding it toward Anton.

“Drink.”

He opens one eye. “You’re bossy in the morning.”

“Yeah, get used to it. Drink.”

Anton shifts enough to accept the glass. He manages a few sips before passing it back, his hand trembling slightly around the rim. You pretend not to notice and set it within easy reach.

Minyoung returns carrying the thermometer and several other things he clearly collected along the way: a blanket dragging behind him, a box of tissues tucked beneath one arm and the stuffed dog you won for him at the fair pressed against his chest.

“I got everything,” he announces.

“You did.” You take the thermometer from him and glance at Anton. “Open.”

Anton gives you a tired look that you return with a raised brow. “Don’t make me force it into your mouth.”

That earns the faintest twitch from the corner of his lips before he obeys. While you wait for the reading, Minyoung spreads the blanket over Anton’s legs with intense concentration, smoothing it down and tucking one corner beneath his calf. He hesitates with the stuffed dog in his hands, rubbing one thumb over its floppy ear.

“You can use him,” he finally tells Anton.

Anton looks down at the plushie. “Are you sure?”

Minyoung nods. “He helps when I feel scared.”

Anton’s expression softens. He reaches for the dog and settles it against his chest, one hand resting over its back. “Thank you, buddy.”

Minyoung climbs onto the edge of the couch near Anton’s feet and watches the thermometer impatiently. When it finally beeps, you remove it and stare at the number.

“What is it?” Anton asks.

“High enough that you’re staying exactly where you are.”

Anton frowns. “That wasn’t a number.”

You shrug. “You don’t need the number.”

Minyoung leans toward you to gey a look for himself. You angle the display away before he can read it, knowing he will latch onto whatever digits he sees and begin asking whether they mean Anton needs an ambulance. “It’s a fever. That’s why your daddy feels bad but we’re going to help him rest and make sure he drinks water.” You tell him calmly.

Minyoung nods, his eyes moving back to Anton. Some of the fear remains in his face. You hand him the glass. “Can you fill this halfway for me? Not all the way because it’ll be too heavy.”

He takes the responsibility seriously, sliding from the couch and carrying the glass toward the kitchen with both hands. Once he’s gone, Anton looks at you.

“You really didn’t have to come.”

You brush the damp hair away from his forehead. “You’ve said that already.”

He seems to wait for more but you don’t offer any. Instead, you stand and head toward the kitchen once Minyoung returns with water. You praise him for carrying it carefully then give it back so he can give it to Anton while you open the refrigerator.

The inside is well stocked but almost everything requires a level of knowledge you don’t possess. There are vegetables, eggs, marinated meat, neatly stacked containers and several ingredients you can’t identify without labels. You open the freezer and find even less help. Behind you, Minyoung tells Anton to take another sip and waits until he does.

You pull out your phone and call your grandmother’s chef. He answers after several rings, sounding confused to hear from you. “Miss?”

“Hello. I need food for someone who’s sick.”

A pause. “...what kind of illness?”

“Umm Fever? He threw up earlier. He hasn’t eaten yet.”

The chef asks a few more practical questions and you answer. Within minutes, the chef promises to send rice porridge, broth, ginger tea, crackers and something plain for Minyoung and you.

“Nothing complicated,” you remind him.

“I understand. It will be there shortly.”

You thank him and hang up, feeling marginally more useful. Then you begin opening the kitchen cabinets in search of medicine. The first contains cups. The second holds tea. The third is filled with neatly organized spices and several small packets of seeds that Anton has apparently brought indoors for reasons you don’t understand.

Growing impatient, you call Yebin. She answers on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Morning. Anton’s sick. Where does he keep medicine?” You ask, getting straight to the point.

There’s a brief rustle on her end. “Bathroom. Top cabinet, left side. There should be fever medicine behind the first-aid supplies.”

“I checked the downstairs bathroom cabinet. I only saw towels and the first-aid kit.”

“Not that one. The bathroom upstairs, small cabinet above the toilet.”

You turn toward the hallway. “Why does he have medicine hidden in different places?”

“Because he puts things wherever Minyoung can’t reach them.” She answers.

Right, that makes sense. You head toward the bathroom while Yebin asks what happened. You explain that Minyoung called after Anton threw up and that he has a fever but is awake, talking and drinking water.

“So you’re taking care of him?”

You hum. “Somebody has to.

“Mhm. How domestic of you.”

You pause in front of the cabinet. “Yebin.”

“I didn’t say anything!” She laughs.

You scoff. “You’re saying it with your voice.”

Yebin laughs softly while you find the correct bottle. “Make sure he eats first. He’ll get nauseous again if he takes anything on an empty stomach.”

You nod although she can’t see you. “Already got my chef to make food.”

She snorts. “Of course you did.”

“What was I supposed to do, cook? I’d burn down his home Yeb.”

That makes her laugh harder. You wait impatiently until she settles enough to confirm the dosage and tell you where Anton keeps the extra washcloths.

“Thank you,” you say, returning to the living room.

“Tell your boyfriend I said feel better.”

“He’s not–”

The line goes dead. You lower the phone slowly and find Anton watching you from the couch. “What?” You ask.

He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

Minyoung looks between the two of you wondering what that whole exchange was about but he doesn’t ask. He sits near Anton’s hip and gently presses the stuffed dog closer against his father’s chest when it begins sliding toward the floor.

You disappear into the downstairs bathroom again, wet one of the washcloths with cool water and wring it out over the sink. When you return, Anton has closed his eyes. Minyoung is whispering to the stuffed dog, explaining that it has to stay with daddy until he feels better.

You sit on the edge of the couch near Anton’s shoulder and press the cloth gently against his forehead. His eyes open at the contact then slowly fall shut again as you wipe along his temples and over the flushed skin beneath his hairline.

“You don’t have to do all this,” he murmurs.

You fold the cloth and press the cooler side against his cheek. “I know.”

He doesn’t argue again. The food arrives not long afterward, delivered by one of your grandmother’s staff in insulated bags. You arrange the containers on the kitchen island and read every label twice, relieved that the chef included instructions simple enough for you to follow. Minyoung stays beside Anton until you call him over to get his food, then reluctantly leaves the couch.

Anton manages a few spoonfuls of porridge before admitting his stomach still feels unsettled. You don’t push him beyond what he can tolerate, only make sure it’s enough for the medicine. Minyoung eats beside him at the coffee table, glancing up between nearly every bite. Once Anton has taken the tablets and settled beneath the blanket again, the fear in Minyoung’s eyes finally begin to ease.

“Will the medicine make him better?” he asks.

“It should help the fever come down, mostly he needs sleep.” You explain.

Minyoung thinks for a moment, then slides from the floor. “I can read to him.”

Anton opens his eyes. “You don’t have to.”

“It helps me sleep when you read to me!” Minyoung says.

There is no arguing with the determination in his face. Minyoung leaves and returns carrying one of his story books then climbs onto the couch near Anton’s legs. He opens to a page marked by a folded piece of paper and begins reading aloud. His pace is slower than usual, each word carefully sounded out but Anton listens without interrupting or correcting him.

You sit near his head with the washcloth, refreshing it whenever it loses its coolness and smoothing it across his forehead while Minyoung reads.

Every few paragraphs, Minyoung pauses and looks up. “Daddy?”

“I’m listening,” Anton answers the first time.

Several minutes later, Minyoung checks again. Anton hums in response without opening his eyes. By the third time, there is no answer.

Minyoung’s voice falters. “Daddy?”

You watch the steady rise and fall of Anton’s chest before touching Minyoung’s knee. “He fell asleep.”

Minyoung studies his father’s face for another few seconds, then relaxes. “My reading worked.”

You smile. “It did.”

He carefully closes the book and places it on the coffee table then adjusts the stuffed dog beneath Anton’s arm so its head rests near his shoulder. Afterward, he lowers himself beside Anton, curling close without disturbing him. You pull the blanket higher over both of them.

Minyoung looks up at you. “Are you staying?”

You glance at Anton’s sleeping face then at the damp cloth still held between your fingers. “Yeah, bug. I’m staying.”

Satisfied, Minyoung rests his head against Anton’s side. Within minutes, his breathing begins to even out too. You remain seated beside them, one hand resting lightly against Anton’s hair as the house grows quiet.

m.list

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you barely get the apartment door open before anton is on you.

he’s been like this the whole ride home. clingy. restless. hands never staying still. the second the door clicks shut he crowds you back against it, face buried in your neck, breath warm and a little sweet from whatever he’d been drinking. his hands are already under your shirt, palms sliding up your sides like he can’t stand not touching you for even a second. you can feel how hard he is already, grinding against your thigh without shame.

“missed you,” he mumbles, voice soft and a little slurred. “kept thinking about you all night. kept getting hard just imagining how wet you’d be for me. couldn’t focus on anything else.”

you laugh under your breath, trying to steady him. “you’re drunk.”

“mhm.” he nuzzles closer, lips brushing your jaw, then lower, mouthing at your neck like he’s already tasting you. “still want you though. want you so bad it hurts. please let me… just let me feel how wet you are. just for a second.”

his hand is already sliding down the front of your pants before you can answer, fingers pressing between your legs. he makes a tiny broken sound when he feels how slick you already are.

“fuck… you’re soaked. were you thinking about me too?” he rubs slow, messy circles over your clit through your underwear, making the fabric stick to you. “please don’t make me wait. i’ll cry. i swear i will.”

you let him touch for a while. let him get all soft and desperate against you, little punched-out noises spilling out of him every time you roll your hips into his hand. he’s so easy like this. so open. so needy. every time you kiss the side of his neck he melts further, fingers slipping under the soaked fabric just to feel how wet you are for him.

“you’re already this desperate?” you murmur. “barely even home yet and you’re fingering me against the door.”

he nods against your skin, hips stuttering harder against your thigh.

“can’t help it… you feel too good. always feel too good. please— please let me taste you. i need it in my mouth.”

you guide him toward the bedroom and he follows without resistance, still trying to keep his hands on you the whole way. the second the backs of his knees hit the mattress he pulls you down with him, letting you climb over him. for a few minutes he’s pure submission. head tipped back, thighs open, hands gripping your hips while you kiss down his chest and mouth over the dark, wet spot already spreading on his jeans. he keeps making these tiny broken sounds, hips twitching every time your tongue presses against the soaked fabric.

“feels so good… fuck, you’re so mean, teasing me like this—”

“you love it when i’m mean to you,” you say softly, and he nods fast, eyes shiny and a little unfocused.

“do, i do, i love it, please just— just a little more—”

then something shifts.

one second he’s under you, soft and open and begging. the next he’s flipping you with surprising strength for how drunk he is, pinning your wrists above your head, eyes dark and shiny and a little wild. his voice is still soft when he speaks, still a little thick from the alcohol, but the words are different.

“stay still,” he says, almost like he’s asking. “just stay still for me, okay? i wanna take care of you. i need to.”

he’s already pulling your clothes off with clumsy urgency, still making those little frustrated noises under his breath like he’s overwhelmed by how much he wants it. when he finally gets you naked he just stares for a second, lips parted, cheeks flushed, eyes locked on how shiny and wet you already are between your legs.

“look at you,” he whispers. “already dripping. gonna make such a mess of you. is that okay?”

“yeah,” you breathe. “make a mess of me.”

he makes a soft, relieved sound before he sinks down between your legs.

he doesn’t tease. anton’s too desperate for that. he licks into you like he’s starving, messy and loud, tongue flat and greedy. spit and slick smear across his chin almost immediately. he moans against your cunt every time you gasp, the sound wet and filthy, and when you tug at his hair he only presses closer, nose buried against your clit while his tongue fucks into you.

“taste so fucking good,” he mumbles, voice muffled, spit connecting from his mouth to your cunt when he pulls back just enough to breathe. “could stay here forever. could drown in it… but i need to be inside you. need it so bad.”

he sits up long enough to shove his jeans down, cock heavy and wet against his stomach, the tip already shiny with precum. when he lines up and pushes in, the sound he makes is almost a sob—high and broken and so fucking needy. the stretch is filthy, wet, the slick sound of it filling the room as he sinks all the way in.

“fuck— so tight. so warm. so fucking wet for me.”

he starts slow. deep, rolling thrusts that make his thighs shake. his forehead is pressed to yours, breath coming in soft little pants against your mouth. every time he bottoms out he lets out this tiny broken “ah—” like it still surprises him how good you feel. you can feel how wet you both already are, the mess of it spreading between your bodies with every slow drag of his cock.

but then the rhythm changes.

he sits up a little, one hand wrapping around your throat just enough to feel your pulse, the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks. his thrusts get sharper. deeper. meaner. the soft, careful boy from a minute ago is still there in the way his voice cracks, but he’s fucking you like he wants to leave you ruined and dripping.

“take it,” he whispers. “take all of it. you’re doing so good for me already— look at you, taking my cock so well, making such a mess—”

he needs the praise. you can feel it in the way his hips stutter every time you give it to him.

“you’re doing so good, anton,” you tell him, voice rough. “fucking me so deep already. so messy.”

his eyes flutter and he makes this wrecked little sound, thrusting harder. the wet slap of skin on skin gets louder. filthier. every thrust pushes more slick out of you, coating his cock and dripping down onto the sheets.

“yeah? i’m doing good?” his voice is shaking. “tell me again. please. tell me i’m doing good while i ruin you.”

“you’re doing so fucking good,” you gasp. “using me like this… feels so dirty. so perfect.”

he almost sobs at that, hips snapping forward harder.

and that’s when the tables fully turn.

he doesn’t slow down. doesn’t soften. he just keeps going, deeper, meaner, the wet sound of it filthy and loud in the quiet room. every time you try to rock up to meet him he pins your hips down and fucks into you harder, chasing the little broken sounds that start spilling out of your mouth. spit drips from his open mouth onto your chest. his cock is shiny and dripping with you every time he pulls back.

“ah— anton, wait, it’s— it’s too much—”

“no,” he breathes, almost gentle, even as his cock drags against that spot that makes your vision blur. “you can take it. you’re taking it so well. just a little more. just let me ruin you properly. let me make you drip for me.”

your voice starts cracking. the soft, controlled responses from earlier turn into high, needy little whimpers you can’t hold back.

“please— fuck, please, it’s so deep, i can’t— it’s so wet—”

“you can,” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours, hips relentless. “you’re doing so good for me. look at you, already shaking. already so fucking messy around me. gonna make you come like this. gonna keep you full until you’re crying and leaking.”

you do start crying a little, overwhelmed, thighs trembling around his waist as he fucks you through it. every thrust punches another broken sound out of you, higher and needier than the last. the sheets under you are soaked. every time he bottoms out more slick squeezes out around his cock and drips down your ass.

“anton— anton please, i’m gonna— i can’t, it’s too good, please— i’m making such a mess—”

“that’s it,” he murmurs, voice still soft, still a little wrecked from the alcohol, but so sure now. “whine for me. let me hear how ruined you are. you’re doing so fucking good, taking me like this. soaking the sheets for me.”

he doesn’t stop when you come. he just keeps going, fucking you through the aftershocks until you’re sobbing and clinging to him, voice completely gone soft and desperate. your cunt keeps fluttering and leaking around him, making the most filthy wet sounds with every thrust.

“please, anton, please, it’s too much, i can’t take anymore— it’s so messy, i’m so full—”

“you can,” he says, almost tender, even as he drives in deep and stays there, grinding against you until you twitch and whimper again. “you’re mine right now. let me finish ruining you. let me fill you up.”

when he finally comes it’s with a soft, punched-out moan, hips pressed flush against yours like he wants to stay buried forever, cock twitching as he pumps you full while you’re still shaking and oversensitive underneath him. you can feel it leaking out around him almost immediately, hot and thick, mixing with how wet you already are.

he doesn’t pull out right away. just stays there, breathing hard, face tucked against your neck, still making tiny little sounds every time your walls flutter around him and more of the mess drips out.

“…was i good?” he asks after a long moment, voice small again. “did i ruin you okay? made you all messy like i wanted?”

you can barely answer. your voice comes out broken and wet.

“you ruined me so bad,” you whisper. “i’m so fucking messy. can’t even think.”

he makes a soft, pleased little sound at that, soft and sticky and still inside you, already shifting his hips like he wants to start all over again even though he’s still half-drunk and the sheets under both of you are completely wrecked.

"Excuse me? Do you have any idea what time it is?" Her father asks, disbelief dripping in his tone.

"Six," you answer flatly.

"Then you know this is entirely inappropriate. Leave our property immediately or security will escort you off."

You look the pair over slowly, your lip curling in a scoff before your eyes drift past them toward the foyer. "Where's Jia?" you ask flatly.

His expression darkens. "And what business do you have with my daughter?"

"That's between me and your daughter."

Before either of them could answer, footsteps thunder down the steps. All three of you glance toward the staircase as Jia appears on the landing, dressed in a skims pj set one hand rubbing at her eyes before she notices who's standing in her foyer. The annoyance that settles across her features is immediate. She rolls her eyes before continuing down the steps.

"Oh, finally! Sleeping Beauty's awake." You call, folding your arms across your chest.

Her mother looks between the two of you. "Jia...who is this?"

Jia doesn't even spare you another glance. "Nobody."

A humorless smile spread across your face. "That’s rich considering I'm about to become your worst nightmare if you don't get your ass down here." You spit.

For one brief, fleeting moment Anton's voice echoes through your head. Please...don't make this worse.

You had promised him you would keep your temper in check and wouldn't give Jia anything else to use against him in court. You had every intention of keeping that promise when you left his house this morning. You even rehearsed a dozen different versions of this conversation during the drive over, each one calmer than the last but then the front door opened and there they were: the three people responsible for turning Anton's life upside down seven years ago.

Jia mutters something to her parents in Korean. Her parents exchange uneasy looks before her father sighs heavily and steps aside, clearly unhappy but willing to indulge whatever this is. Her mother lingers another second before following him inside. A minute later Jia descends the front steps with her arms folded tightly across her chest, stopping just short of the driveway.

"What do you want?" she asks coldly.

“You had your lawyer contact my father.” You say, taking a step back to look up at her face as you confront her. “ You couldn’t convince Anton to hand over his son so you decided the next best option was getting me sent back to California before the hearing. Did you think he’d be easier to deal with once he was alone again?” The words come out calmer than you thought you were capable of.

Jia glances toward the house before stepping farther onto the porch and pulling the door shut behind her. “You inserted yourself into a custody dispute that has nothing to do with you. My attorney contacted your father because your involvement is relevant.”

“My involvement?” A short laugh slips from you as you look her over, wondering how someone so desperate can still manage to sound condescending. “What exactly did your lawyer tell him? That I’m sleeping with Anton? That I’m off on a bender? Or did you send him the same magazines you threw in Anton’s face and say more were on the way?”

Jia’s silence confirms enough. You nod slowly, pressing your tongue against the inside of your cheek. “You knew he’d come here, humiliate Anton and try to drag me home because another scandal with my name attached to it would embarrass him. You didn’t contact my father because I’m relevant to the case, you contacted him because you wanted me out of your way.”

“You give yourself too much credit. Whether you stay or leave doesn’t change the fact that Anton has kept my son from me.” Jia says, shifting her weight against the stone beneath her bare feet.

“Anton hasn’t kept Minyoung from you, you left. You signed away your rights, moved across the world and spent seven years pretending neither of them existed. Anton didn’t hide him. Sungchan knew where he was, your parents knew where he was, you knew where he was. You just didn’t care until you came back and realized they’d learned how to live without you.”

Jia’s jaw tightens. “You don’t know anything about what I cared about.”

“Then I guess you should’ve spoken for yourself instead of sending another lawyer. You want to play dirty? Fine, I’ll bite. My father has spent my entire life teaching me how to play this game, Jia. I’ve spent years pretending I’m nothing like him but if you use your family’s relationship with that judge to take Minyoung away from Anton, I’ll use every connection I have to bury you and everyone helping you.”

The smugness in Jia’s expression slips momentarily. “Are you threatening my family?”

“I’m telling you yours isn’t the only one with influence.” You fold your arms across your chest and glance toward the house, aware that her parents are probably close enough to hear every word. “You want to bury Anton in legal fees? I’ll fund the appeal out of spite. You want to buy favorable rulings? I’ll make sure every reporter in Seoul knows exactly why the same judge keeps ruling in your family’s favor. You want to dig through my past and convince everyone I’m dangerous to Minyoung? Go ahead. There isn’t a headline about me that my father isn’t willing to pay to scrub the internet of and I promise there isn’t a person in your family who can survive the kind of hell my father will raise to keep his family name clean.”

You pull your eyes away from the window where her parents are and return your gaze to hers and watch her nostrils flare. “You should’ve left my father out of this. Now, if you insist on fighting dirty I’m not going to ask Anton’s permission before I fight dirtier.”

“This isn’t your family! Anton isn’t your husband and Minyoung isn’t your child. You’ve known them for two months, so stop standing here acting like you have some claim over them!” Jia screeches.

“It isn’t yours either!” You yell right back. Jia’s eyes narrow but you continue, unwilling to let her off the hook. “You had a family with them and walked away from it. Anton begged you to speak to him and you sent back one text about Princeton. Minyoung has spent years asking questions about you while you built a life where he was some secret you could pretend never happened. Now you’ve decided you’re ready so everyone is supposed to move aside and let you play mother like seven years didn’t pass?”

“I was seventeen!” Jia snaps, finally stepping down from the porch until the two of you are standing on the same level. “I was seventeen, my parents were making every decision for me and I’d spent a year drowning while everyone kept telling me I should be grateful because Anton made fatherhood look easy! You have no idea what it was like to give birth before I’d even finished school and realize I couldn’t feel whatever everyone kept telling me I was supposed to feel!”

Your chest is rising and falling from how hard you’re breathing. “You’re right, I don’t. I don’t know what pregnancy did to you or how badly your parents pressured you. I don’t know what it was like to be seventeen and feel trapped inside a life you weren’t ready for but Anton was sixteen, Jia. He was younger than you, just as scared as you and dealing with the same judgment from everyone around him. The difference is that when it got hard, he stayed. You didn’t. Being young might explain why you left but it doesn’t explain every birthday, Christmas and ordinary Tuesday that came after it.”

Jia looks away toward the gates and rubs her palms over her arms, the fight briefly leaving her posture. “You think I don’t know that?” she asks, quieter now. “You think I haven’t spent every year knowing I have a son somewhere who doesn’t know me? I couldn’t tell anyone. Every time I got close to someone, I had to decide whether to admit I had a baby and left him or end things before they found out. I’d get into a relationship, start building a life and then feel like I was lying every time they talked about marriage or children because I’d already done half of it with someone else.”

She lets out an uneven breath and stares past you instead of meeting your eyes. “Anton is the only other person in my life who understands. We became parents together. We were kids and terrified and no one else knew what that was like. I thought that meant something. I thought no matter how much time passed, there would still be some place for me with them.”

It’s clear she expects her confession to make her easier to understand yet every sentence that leaves her makes the resentment inside you grow. She talks about the men she couldn’t keep, the lies she had to tell and the place she assumed Anton would preserve for her but nothing about the child whose absence made those lies necessary. “So that’s why you came back? Because your relationships kept failing and you thought Anton would still be waiting?” You ask.

“That isn’t what I said.”

“It’s all you’ve said. You’ve talked about how hard it was for you to hide him, how guilty you felt and how much it hurt to see Anton move on. You haven’t said one thing about Minyoung. You haven’t said you missed him or wondered about the things he likes or stayed awake thinking about whether he was okay. You came back because you couldn’t stand what leaving made you and now you expect a seven year old to fix it by calling you Mom.”

“You don’t get to tell me how I feel about my son. You don’t know what it’s like to look at him and see everything I lost.” Jia says as her voice cracks.

“He isn’t something you lost. He’s someone you left.” You step closer again, lowering your voice when the front curtain moves behind her. “If this were about Minyoung, you wouldn’t be trying to rip him away from the only home he’s ever known. You wouldn’t be using your parents’ money to force him into a schedule with a woman he doesn’t know. You’d be asking Anton what Minyoung needs and accepting that earning his trust might take longer than you want it to.”

Jia glares at you, unable to understand why you’re digging your heels in. “What is this? Do you think you love him more than I do?”

“I never said that. I just think wanting to be absolved of your guilt isn’t enough reason to drag him and Anton through court.” You say plainly.

“And what exactly are you doing? You keep saying if I cared about them I wouldn’t have left. What about you, ____? You keep talking about staying as though you aren’t leaving in a month!”

The question catches you so off guard that you don’t have a quick rebuttal. “Stanford didn’t disappear because you found a boyfriend in the mountains. You’re going back to California and Anton knows it. Minyoung probably doesn’t but I’m sure you’ll find some gentle way to explain why his noona suddenly isn’t there every day. How is that different? You’ve let him get attached to you knowing from the beginning this was temporary.” She continues.

You blink at her words, the fear you’ve been carrying around ever since Minyoung asked you to stay being thrown on your face. “It’s different because I didn’t abandon him.”

Jia shrugs. “You’re still leaving.”

You open your mouth but pause. You could tell her that school isn’t abandonment, that you never promised Minyoung you’d become his mother or asked a court to give you him five days out of the week. You could remind her that there’s a difference between returning to finish a degree and signing away a child. Yet none of those answers change the fact that at the end of summer, you will pack your bags and leave.

“Minyoung’s science fair is in two weeks,” you say eventually, watching confusion take over Jia’s face. “He’s presenting about rhinoceros beetles. He’s invited practically everyone he loves to come see it.”

Jia’s face falls though you can’t tell whether the hurt is genuine or merely another reminder of everything she doesn’t know about her own son. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you keep saying you want to be his mother so show up. Stop trying to prove it with paperwork and prove it to him. Withdraw the petition and come to the fair. Sit in the audience, listen to him explain beetles and clap when he finishes. Don’t force him to go home with you, don’t make him choose between you and Anton. Just show up and let him decide whether he wants you there.”

She stares at you for a long moment. “And if he doesn’t?”

You shrug “Then you keep showing up. You learn that he hates being helped before he asks, that he gets embarrassed when people praise him in public and that he’ll talk about insects for ages and ages. You earn a place in his life the same way everyone else did…by being there even when it doesn’t make you feel better about yourself.”

Jia remains silent near the porch, one hand curled around the opposite arm. You purse your lips before turning to walk down her driveway to your waiting driver. You stop by the passenger and turn once more. “If all you really want is Anton’s forgiveness, leave Minyoung out of it.”

You climb into the passenger seat before she responds and shut the door hard enough to cut off whatever answer she started to say.

The car ride back to Anton’s is silent. You spend the entire time replaying Jia’s words, thinking about the end of summer and how quickly it is approaching. You’ve known from the first day you arrived that summer would end, that Stanford and the life waiting for you in California would still be there. What you didn’t know was how attached you would become to a bug-obsessed seven-year-old and his father or how much the thought of leaving them would hurt

Anton’s car is still parked in the driveway when you arrive. You thank your driver and head inside, finding the front door unlocked like it normally is when Anton knows you’re coming. The sound of Minyoung talking carries from the kitchen before you make it through the foyer, his voice moving too quickly for someone who is supposed to be eating breakfast. Anton reminds him to chew first and Minyoung goes quiet for all of three seconds before starting again. When you enter the kitchen, Anton is standing beside the table packing Minyoung’s lunch while his son sits dressed for his summer program with his backpack resting near his chair. His bright green cast is propped carefully on the table and he holds his spoon in his left hand, moving it slowly through a bowl of cereal.

Anton looks up first. His hands pause over the open lunch bag as his eyes move across your face, relief appearing across his face. Minyoung follows his gaze and turns in his chair. The second he sees you, his spoon drops into the bowl and sends milk splashing across the table. “Noona!” he cheers, pushing his chair back before Anton has the chance to tell him to finish his food.

He jumps down and runs toward you, ignoring Anton when he tells him not to run in the house as he always does. “Are you coming with us? Daddy’s taking me to school. Are you coming too?”

You crouch as he reaches you and Minyoung throws his good arm around your neck. His cast presses awkwardly between the two of you but neither of you seems to care. You wrap both arms around him and pull him closer, pressing your face into his hair. He has no idea that there will be a morning soon when you aren’t here to go with him. He only knows that you’ve become part of his routine, another person he expects to find when he looks around.

Minyoung shifts in your arms when you hold him too long and pulls back enough to look at you through his glasses. “Noona, are you okay?”

You swallow past the tightness in your throat and smooth one hand over his hair. “I’m okay, bug.” Your voice sounds thicker than usual, but his concern eases when you smile. “And I absolutely am coming with you.”

His whole face lights up. “Really?”

“Really.” You kiss his cheek before standing but Minyoung keeps his left hand wrapped around yours and follows when you move toward the table.

Anton looks at the bowl of frosted flakes then at his son. “Minyoung, you still have to finish breakfast before we leave.”

“I’m done,” Minyoung says quickly, tightening his hold on your hand as though Anton might separate the two of you if he returns to his chair.

Anton looks into the bowl, which is still more than half full then back at him. “You’re not done.”

“I’m not hungry anymore!”

“You were hungry thirty seconds ago.” Anton closes the lunch bag and sets it beside Minyoung’s backpack before crouching in front of him. He gently straightens the sleeve bunched above the green cast and checks the exposed tips of Minyoung’s fingers before looking up at his face. “You need to eat before your program. Go sit down, please.”

Minyoung’s mouth pulls into a pout. He doesn’t argue again but he doesn’t let go of you either. You glance between him and the empty chair before pulling it away from the table. “I’ll sit with you while you finish.”

That appears to satisfy him. Minyoung walks with you to the table and waits until you sit but instead of returning to his chair, he climbs directly into your lap. You blink down at him while he settles himself against you. Anton watches the entire thing with his hands resting on his hips.

“Minyoung.”

“What?” he asks innocently, reaching for his spoon with his left hand.

“Your chair is right there.”

“But I’m eating.” Minyoung scoops up a careful spoonful of cereal and brings it to his mouth as proof. A little milk drips onto the table and Anton reaches over with a cloth to wipe it before it reaches either of you.

You purse your lips to keep from laughing. “Technically, he’s listening.”

Anton looks at you with little amusement. “You’re not helping.”

“I’d argue I’m helping him finish breakfast.”

Minyoung nods while chewing, pleased to have you defending him. Anton sighs but lets it go, moving behind the two of you to push Minyoung’s abandoned chair out of the way so no one trips over it. He wipes the spilled milk from the table, checks the time and reminds Minyoung that he has ten minutes before they need to leave. Minyoung answers with a quiet, “Okay daddy,” and takes another bite without being told.

Anton returns to packing the last few things for his program, slipping Minyoung’s water bottle and a plastic cover for his cast into the side of his backpack. Every few minutes, he glances toward you. You know he’s waiting for some indication of what happened at Jia’s house but he doesn’t ask while Minyoung is sitting in your lap. He only sets a cup of tea in front of you and asks Minyoung if he remembered to brush his teeth.

“No.” Minyoung answers honestly.

Anton closes his eyes for a moment before pointing toward the bowl. “Finish eating then go brush your teeth please.”

Minyoung sighs but nods, taking another spoonful while his casted hand finds yours beneath the table.

When the bowl is finally empty, Minyoung slides down from your lap and reaches for your hand again. Anton catches him before he can drag you toward the door and turns him toward the hallway. “Teeth.”

Minyoung opens his mouth to complain but Anton gives him a look. He closes it again and nods. “Okay.”

“And walk please. No running.” Anton reminds him.

“I know,” Minyoung says, slowing down his pace.

Anton waits until Minyoung is far enough ahead before stepping closer. “How did it go?”

You look toward the hallway where Minyoung has disappeared. “It went.”

Anton studies your face for a moment, but whatever he sees tells him not to push. He nods once and reaches for his keys. “Okay.”

When Minyoung finally finishes, he comes skipping back and Anton fixes his collar, helps him put on his socks and carefully adjusts the strap of his backpack. Minyoung grows impatient halfway through and starts tugging you toward the garage, talking about everything he wants to show you after school.

A few minutes later, the three of you leave the house together. Minyoung holds your hand the entire way to the car, swinging your joined arms between you while Anton follows close behind. All you can think about is how devastated he’ll be when you tell him you’re leaving.

“Stand still,” Anton says for what has to be the third time as he fixes the collar of Minyoung’s little blue button-up.

“I am standing still,” Minyoung argues, though his entire body is practically buzzing in place from excitement and nerves. His casted arm hangs at his side while Anton straightens the fabric around it, smooths down the front of his shirt and adjusts his glasses when they begin slipping down his nose.

“You’re moving right now.”

“I’m only moving a little.”

Anton gives him a look before reaching down to fix the hem of his shirt. “Still moving, buddy.”

You stand beside Minyoung’s table and try not to laugh as you make one last adjustment to the rhinoceros beetle model sitting near the center of his display. The poster behind it is split into three sections just as Minyoung planned, complete with the life cycle, facts about where rhinoceros beetles live and a list of interesting information he insisted most people wouldn’t know. Some of the writing is neat and carefully spaced while other parts slope awkwardly from where he finished them with his left hand after breaking his right arm.

The three of you arrived nearly an hour early to help him set everything up. Most of the other children are finished now too and the large gym is filled with colorful poster boards, models and handmade signs. Teachers from the summer program walk around checking each station while families begin gathering outside the double doors, waiting to be let in before the judges start.

Anton takes one final look at Minyoung’s outfit and nods. “Okay. You look good.”

Minyoung immediately looks at you. “Do I look like a scientist?”

“You look like the best scientist here,” you tell him.

His face brightens but before he can respond, Yuna stops beside the table. Her hair is pulled back with two small clips and she’s holding a paper model of what looks like the solar system.

“Minyoung,” she says softly.

Minyoung turns toward her and immediately straightens. “Hi, Yuna.”

You glance at Anton, who notices the sudden shift too and bites back a smile.

Yuna looks toward her station on the other side of the gym before looking back at Minyoung. “Do you want to see my project?”

A faint blush spreads across Minyoung’s cheeks. He looks up at Anton for permission.

Anton laughs softly. “Go ahead.”

Minyoung nods and steps away from the table. “Okay.”

Yuna smiles and the two of them run off together, though Minyoung is careful to keep his cast close to his body as they move through the rows of projects. Anton watches them go with an amused expression before looking back at you.

“They’re so cute!” You whisper.

“I know.” Anton agrees.

You hum and look toward the doors as they begin opening to let the first group of families inside. The sight makes you think of the conversation you’ve been avoiding all morning. You pick at the corner of Minyoung’s tablecloth before finally speaking.

“I invited Jia.”

Anton turns toward you quickly, frowning at you. “You did what?”

You look up at him. “I invited her.”

“Why would you do that?” he asks, trying his best to keep his voice low as more people begin entering the gym.

You shrug slightly. “Because if she really wants to be his mother, shouldn’t we let her try?”

Anton stares at you dumbfounded.

“I told her to withdraw the petition and just show up. Just come here, listen to his project and let him decide if he wants her around. If she really means what she says then it only benefits Minyoung in the end.”

Anton looks toward the other side of the gym where Minyoung is standing beside Yuna’s project and listening as she explains something about the planets. His jaw tightens slightly before he lets out a slow breath.

“Fine,” he says eventually. “But don’t mention anything to Minyoung. I don’t want him looking forward to seeing her and then getting upset if she doesn’t show.”

You nod. “I won’t.”

Anton sighs and runs a hand through his hair. You twist the fabric between tourney gets awkwardly. You open your mouth to ask if he’s mad at you but then his family walk over through the gym doors with Junyoung behind them.

His mother is carrying a bouquet of flowers while his father holds a small gift bag. Junyoung has another bouquet tucked beneath one arm and looks far too excited.

“There he is!” Anton’s mother calls the second she spots Minyoung across the room.

Minyoung turns toward the sound and his whole face lights up. “Halmoni!”

He runs back toward the table and straight into her arms. Anton’s mother hugs him carefully before kissing both of his cheeks.

“We’re so proud of you!” She tells him.

Minyoung pulls away and lifts his right arm proudly. “Look! Yuna signed my cast!”

There’s a small heart written near the top in purple marker beside Yuna’s name.

Junyoung leans closer to inspect it. “That’s cool. I want to sign too.”

Minyoung gasps as if he can’t believe his uncle hasn’t done so already. “Okay! We need a marker.”

The two of them disappear toward the supply table together, Minyoung talking quickly while Junyoung listens intently. Anton’s parents remain near the project, asking Anton questions about how long it took and admiring every section even though they’ve already gotten a personal walkthrough from Minyoung himself.

Your grandmother arrives next with a small wrapped gift in one hand. She looks around the gym until she spots you and walks over.

“Good morning,” she says.

Anton bows slightly before noticing the present. “You didn’t have to bring him anything.”

Your grandmother waves him off. “It’s a science fair. Children receive gifts for these things.”

“I don’t remember you ever bringing me any,” you joke.

She ignores you and hands the gift to Anton. “Give it to him after. I’m going to find my seat before the good ones are taken.”

Anton thanks her again but she’s already walking toward the rows of chairs set up near the stage.

A few minutes later, Sohee and Yebin arrive carrying another bouquet and a gift bag covered in cartoon dinosaurs. Yebin hugs you the second she reaches the table while Sohee pulls Anton into a quick side hug.

“Where’s the scientist?” Yebin asks, looking around.

“Probably causing problems with Junyoung.” Anton says. “They went toward the supply table.”

Yebin’s eyes light up and she grabs Sohee’s hand. “Come on.”

Sohee barely has time to wave goodbye before she drags him away. You laugh and turn back toward the entrance, checking again without meaning to.

Sungchan still isn’t here and neither is Jia.

Anton notices too. He glances at the time on his phone before looking toward the doors. “I’m going to call Sungchan.”

You nod but before he can walk away, the gym doors open once again but this time it’s Maya and Harvey who step inside.

You freeze. Both of them stop the moment they see you, their expressions turning sheepish as Maya lifts one hand in a small wave. You don’t return the wave. The last thing you want is another fight in the middle of Minyoung’s science fair.

You reach for Anton’s hand and stop him before he can leave. He looks at you curiously then follows your gaze toward the entrance.

Maya and Harvey begin walking over.

“What are you doing here?” you ask once they’re close enough.

Maya clears her throat. “Anton invited us.”

You look at Anton. He gives you a small sheepish smile. “I’ll leave you three to talk.”

He squeezes your hand once before stepping away to call Sungchan.

Harvey looks at you for a moment then begins unrolling the poster she’s carrying beneath one arm. “Before you say anything, we’re sorry.”

Maya nods quickly. “For real this time. No backhanded apologies.”

Harvey holds the poster open between them. Large letters across the center read LET’S GO, MINYOUNG! Around the words are cutouts of Minyoung’s face from pictures you sent them over the summer, along with little rhinoceros beetles, frogs, books and dinosaurs drawn across the paper.

“We were wrong,” Maya continues. “Anton is a good guy and Minyoung is so sweet. We shouldn’t have said the things we did.”

You stare down at the poster, trying to hold on to the anger that has been sitting between the three of you for the last week. It becomes harder when you notice every little detail they remembered from the stories you told them over the summer.

Harvey lowers the sign slightly. “We’re really sorry.”

Maya nods. “If this is what your life looks like now, then we’re here to support you. We want to show up for Minyoung too.”

You hold out for another second before opening your arms. Both girls rush toward you at once.

Harvey wraps her arms around your shoulders while Maya squeezes around your waist, nearly crushing the poster between the three of you.

“We’re so sorry,” Harvey repeats into your shoulder.

You hug them tighter and close your eyes. “I love you guys so much.”

“We love you too,” Maya says.

The announcement that judging is about to begin cuts through the gym before any of you can say more. Teachers begin directing families toward the seats while the children return to their stations for the final round of scoring. You take both of your friends’ hands and lead them toward the chairs, the three of you finding seats near the front with the rest of Minyoung’s family.

Anton sits to your right while Maya and Harvey sit on your left, already talking with Sohee and Yebin about the poster they made. The judges continue moving between the displays while the children answer questions and explain their projects. Minyoung stands behind his table nodding seriously as one of the teachers asks him about the strength of a rhinoceros beetle.

You lean closer to Anton. “Thank you for inviting them.”

He smiles softly. “You don’t have to thank me.”

You slip your hand into his and look toward the entrance again. “Any word from Sungchan?”

Anton shakes his head. You give him a small, sad smile before turning your attention back to the stage as the announcer steps toward the microphone. The judges have finished their final round and all the children are now sitting together in rows near the front, waiting for the awards to begin. The top four projects will be invited onstage to present for everyone.

The announcer begins welcoming the families just as the gym doors burst open.

Sungchan rushes inside looking completely disheveled, his hair messy and his shirt wrinkled as though he threw it on without checking. His eyes scan the room until he spots Anton, who lifts one hand and waves him over. Sungchan quickly makes his way down the aisle and drops into the empty seat beside Anton.

You look behind him toward the doors but no one follows. “Where is she?” you ask quietly.

Sungchan’s expression falls. He looks from you to Anton before shaking his head.

“She left.”

Anton freezes beside you. Your stomach drops. “What do you mean she left?” You hiss.

“She went back to New Jersey,” Sungchan says, still trying to catch his breath. “I tried to convince her to stay. I told her to come here and at least see Minyoung’s project but she wouldn’t.”

Anton’s hand tightens around yours. “Why?”

Sungchan looks toward the children sitting near the stage. “She said you were right. She isn’t ready for the responsibility and she doesn’t think motherhood is something she wants. She withdrew the petition before she left.”

Anton stares at him in disbelief. His jaw clenches as he looks toward the gym doors. “How could she do this to him again?” he asks under his breath.

“She’s not worth it,” you say quietly.

Anton looks toward Minyoung, who’s sitting patiently beside Yuna with his hands folded in his lap. “She came back, made this huge deal about being his mother and then disappeared again. What am I supposed to tell him?”

Sungchan leans forward with his elbows against his knees. “I…I think it’s time to leave Jia in the past.”

Anton only clenches his jaw tighter and shakes his head in response.

You squeeze his hand. “She withdrew the petition. Let’s take the win.”

His eyes remain fixed on Minyoung. “How do I tell him she left again?”

You look toward the stage as the announcer begins explaining the award categories. “You don’t. Not today.”

Sungchan nods. “She’s right. Let him have this.”

Anton remains tense for another moment before slowly releasing the breath he’s been holding. He looks at his son again and something in his expression changes. It’s clear he’s still very angry with Jia but he pushes it aside the same way he always does when Minyoung needs him to be his father first.

He nods once. “Okay.”

The three of you turn your attention back toward the stage. The children sit proudly in their rows while the announcer calls the first few awards. Each winner gets a ribbon and the chance to stand beside their project for pictures. Minyoung claps for everyone, smiling each time one of his classmates is called.

Then the announcer reaches the final award.

“This year’s Best Young Scientist award goes to a student whose project showed creativity, detailed research and an incredible understanding of his topic.”

Minyoung sits up straighter.

“For his project on rhinoceros beetles…Lee Minyoung!”

The second his name is announced everyone around you erupts.

Sohee jumps to his feet clapping obnoxiously and cheering while Yebin claps beside him. Anton’s parents cheer proudly, Junyoung whistles and your grandmother smiles as she applauds. Maya and Harvey lift their poster above their heads and scream Minyoung’s name.

Minyoung turns around in his seat and looks directly at his dad. Anton is already standing, clapping with the biggest smile on his face. “Go, Minyoung!”

Minyoung’s face breaks into a grin. He stands and walks toward the stage, holding his green cast close while one of the teachers brings his poster up behind him. The ribbon is placed around his neck before he steps toward the microphone.

He looks nervous at first. His left hand grips the edge of the table while his eyes search the crowd until he finds Anton again.

Anton gives him a small nod. Minyoung takes a breath and begins.

He starts by explaining what rhinoceros beetles are and where they live. His voice is quiet for the first few sentences but grows stronger as he continues. Once he reaches the section about how much weight they can carry, the nerves disappear completely and he begins talking with the same excitement he always has at home. He points toward each part of his poster with his left hand and answers one of the judge’s questions without hesitation.

By the time he finishes, everyone is cheering again.

Minyoung smiles so widely his glasses slip down his nose. He bows quickly before hurrying off the stage and running straight toward the seats.

Anton barely has time to stand before Minyoung jumps into his arms.

“Daddy!” he cries, wrapping his arms around Anton’s neck. “I did it!”

Anton holds him tightly and kisses the side of his head. “You did! I’m so proud of you!”

Everyone crowds around them at once, offering hugs and congratulations while Minyoung proudly shows off his ribbon. Maya and Harvey hold up their poster for him and his eyes widen when he notices all the beetles and pictures of himself across it.

Junyoung claps his hands together. “Okay, let’s go eat!”

Minyoung cheers at the mention of food and Anton laughs before setting him back on his feet. The group begins gathering their things and splitting between cars, everyone still talking over one another about Minyoung’s presentation.

A few minutes later, you climb into the passenger seat of Anton’s car while Anton settles Minyoung l into the back in his booster with his ribbon still hanging around his neck. Anton gets in after and starts the engine then pulls away from the summer program, following the rest of the family toward the chosen restaurant.

The restaurant Minyoung chose is only fifteen minutes away from his school, a casual place that serves just about everything from pasta to burgers. By the time the three of you arrive, everyone else has already started gathering near the entrance. Junyoung is holding the door open. Minyoung unbuckles himself the second Anton opens the back door and climbs out with his ribbon still hanging proudly around his neck.

Dinner is loud and chaotic but you’d rather this over the stuffy pretentious family dinners you’re used to. Everyone wants to sit near Minyoung which leads to an unnecessary amount of arguing over seats until Anton finally places him between himself and you. The flowers and gifts are piled at the empty end of the table while Harvey and Maya’s poster rests against the wall behind Minyoung where everyone can see it. He orders chicken tenders and fries then retells his entire presentation while everyone waits for their food even though hou all watched it happen less than an hour ago.

“And then they asked how strong rhinoceros beetles are,” Minyoung explains, holding up one finger as though he’s teaching the table. “And I said they can carry eight hundred and fifty times their body weight.”

“We know, we were there.” Junyoung says sipping on his shirley temple.

Minyoung frowns at him. “I’m telling it again.”

“Let him tell it,” Anton’s mother says before turning back to Minyoung with an encouraging smile. “What happened next?”

Minyoung continues without hesitation. When the food comes, Anton removes the ribbon from around his neck before it can fall into his ketchup and places it safely beside his plate. He cuts Minyoung’s chicken into smaller pieces despite Minyoung insisting he can do it himself with his left hand then waits until his son is distracted talking to Yebin before moving the knife out of reach. Every few minutes, Anton reminds him to eat instead of talking and Minyoung listens long enough to take one bite before starting another story.

The gifts are opened after dinner. Yebin and Sohee give him a children’s microscope kit, Anton’s parents bought him a new book about insects and your grandmother’s small box contains a silver magnifying glass with his initials engraved into the handle. Minyoung holds it up to one eye and immediately begins examining everyone around the table through it. By the time he reaches you, his glasses are crooked and his face looks enormous through the lens.

“You have a pimple,” he informs you.

Your mouth falls open while everyone around the table laughs. “Give me that.”

Minyoung quickly hides the magnifying glass against his chest and leans into Anton for protection. Anton wraps an arm around him while laughing, though he does remind Minyoung that pointing out people’s pimples is rude. Minyoung apologizes before turning the magnifying glass toward Junyoung instead.

Eventually everyone begins leaving. Anton’s parents hug Minyoung goodbye and tell him again how proud they are. Your grandmother kisses his forehead before reminding Anton not to let him stay awake too late after such a long day. Sohee and Yebin leave with Junyoung after arguing over where to go for a sweet treat while Sungchan lingers for a moment near Anton. The two speak quietly out of Minyoung’s earshot before Sungchan pulls Anton into a hug and promises to call him tomorrow.

Maya and Harvey are the last to leave. They hug Minyoung and tell him they expect another presentation the next time they see him. He asks whether they’ll come to his next science fair and they promise they will before hugging you too. Once everyone is gone, the four of you stand outside the restaurant while Anton looks through the gift bags to make sure nothing was left behind.

“Daddy,” Minyoung says.

Anton glances up. “Hm?”

“Can noona and me get ice cream?”

You place one hand against your chest. “Just you and me?”

Minyoung thinks about it before looking back at Anton. “Daddy can come too.”

Anton lets out a quiet laugh. “How generous.”

“There’s a shop over there.” Minyoung points down the street with his left hand. “Please?”

Anton looks at the time on his phone then at Minyoung, who is already staring up at him with wide hopeful eyes. “One scoop.”

Minyoung pouts. “Two.”

Anton raises a brow. “One.”

Minyoung sighs. “Fine.”

Anton gathers the gift bags into one hand and the three of you begin walking toward the ice cream shop. Minyoung slips his left hand into yours then reaches his casted arm toward Anton. Anton looks down and takes his fingers carefully so he doesn’t pull against the cast. Minyoung walks between the two of you with your joined hands swinging lightly while he talks about which flavor he wants.

The ice cream shop is small but busy. Minyoung changes his mind three times before finally choosing cookie dough in a cup. Anton gets vanilla while you choose cookies and cream. Once Anton pays, the three of you take your ice cream outside and sit at one of the little metal tables near the sidewalk.

Minyoung takes one large bite of ice cream and immediately winces. Anton looks over from opening his own spoon. “Slow down.”

“My head hurts,” Minyoung complains.

“Because you ate too much at once.” Anton scoffs.

Minyoung presses his left hand against his forehead and waits for the pain to pass. Anton reaches over and wipes a streak of ice cream from the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

“You did really good today,” you tell him.

Minyoung smiles around his spoon. “I know.”

Anton raises a brow. “Very humble.”

“Mrs. Park said my project had everything. Research and creativity and I answered all the questions.” Minyoung continues proudly, ignoring Anton.

“You did, you worked very hard.” Anton agrees.

“And everyone came.” Minyoung looks down into his cup and begins stirring the melting ice cream around.

You nod. “You’re so loved, bug.”

Minyoung looks up at you. “Are Maya and Harvey your sisters?”

You lick your cone and shake your head. “No. They’re my best friends.”

His spoon stops moving. He lifts his head slowly and looks at you with a pout. “I thought I was your best friend?”

You laugh before reaching across the table to pinch his cheek. “Sorry, bug. I forgot. They’re my other best friends.”

Minyoung seems satisfied by the correction and returns to his ice cream. “Can best friends be family?”

“Of course! You can choose some of your family.”

He grows quiet as he thinks about that, dragging his spoon through the softened ice cream before lifting his eyes toward you again. “Can I choose you to be my new mom?”

Both you and Anton freeze.

Your ice cream pauses halfway to your mouth while Anton slowly lowers his cup to the table. The two of you look at each other, equally shocked but Anton comes to his senses first and turns toward his son.

“Buddy…” he begins carefully. “You already have a mom.”

Minyoung’s brows pull together. “But she’s never around. Noona is.”

Anton’s expression changes at the simple answer. He looks down for a second before opening his mouth again but you speak first.

“I don’t have to be your mom to be your family,” you tell him gently.

Minyoung tilts his head to the side. “You’re my family?”

“Of course I am.”

He smiles at that, though only for a moment before another question replaces it. “Then why can’t you be my mom?”

Anton shifts in his chair. ““There are lots of ways to be a family. You grandparents are your family. Uncle Junyoung is your family. Sohee, Sungchan and Yebin are too. ____ can be your family without being your mom.”

Minyoung listens but doesn’t look convinced. His attention returns to you. “Do you not want to be my mom?”

The question settles heavily over the table. You stare at him while trying to force yourself to answer. Being with Anton has never meant being with Anton alone. Minyoung is there during breakfast and phone calls, during hangouts that turn into movie nights and afternoons that become bug hunts. There is no version of loving Anton where you get to ignore the little boy sitting beside him.

If you stay, eventually you’ll become another person responsible for his happiness, his safety and all the ordinary parts of raising him. If you can’t accept that, you need to admit it now.

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” You say finally.

Minyoung huffs as though you’re making something painfully simple far too complicated. “Then be my mom.”

Your lips part but nothing comes out. Anton watches you for a moment before turning back toward Minyoung. “Let’s talk about something else for now, buddy.”

Minyoung frowns. “But I asked her.”

“I know you did, but that’s a very big question.” Anton reaches over and straightens Minyoung’s glasses. “Your noona and I need time to talk about things like that.”

Minyoung considers this before nodding. “Okay.”

Just like that, he returns to his ice cream. A few seconds later he asks Anton if he can taste the vanilla even though he already knows what vanilla tastes like. Anton slides the cup toward him and Minyoung takes a spoonful before deciding his own flavor is better.

You remain quiet while the two of them begin arguing over whether cookies dough is the best ice cream flavor. Your cookies and cream ice cream melts slowly in front of you as Minyoung’s words repeat in your head.

Then be my mom.

To him, it’s that simple. He loves you, you love him and you’re already there. He doesn’t understand Stanford or distance or all the decisions waiting for you at the end of summer. He only knows that when he looks for you, he wants you to stay.

Minyoung reaches across the table and places his left hand over yours without interrupting his conversation with Anton. You look down at his small fingers resting against your knuckles before turning your hand over and holding on.

You need to decide what you’ll do when summer ends and you need to decide now.

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The front door of their little house clicked shut behind them, sealing out the last of the afternoon light and the distant hum of well-wishers still lingering near the church. James set the small overnight bag down carefully, then turned to face you. His dark hair was slightly mussed from the drive, the white collar of his shirt open at the throat where he had loosened his tie the moment they left the parking lot. A faint flush colored his cheeks, and his eyes, usually so steady, held a quiet, almost disbelieving heat.

“We’re home,” he said, voice low. “For good.”

You stood in the entryway, still in your simple ivory dress, the soft fabric brushing your knees. Your braids rested neat against your shoulders and back, the ends brushing the fabric when you moved. The house smelled of lemon polish and the faint sweetness of the peonies James had brought home two days earlier, now arranged in a glass vase on the side table. Late sunlight filtered through the half-drawn curtains, laying long gold bars across the hardwood floor. Everything felt both familiar and brand new, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.

James stepped closer. His hands found yours, fingers threading together. “You look beautiful,” he murmured. “All day I kept thinking I must be dreaming. Then I’d catch your eye during the vows and know I wasn’t. Kept thinking about getting you back here. Getting my hands on you properly.”

You gave a small smile. “I kept waiting for someone to stand up and say there’d been a mistake.”

“No mistake.” He lifted one of your hands and pressed a slow kiss to your knuckles, then turned your wrist and kissed the soft inside of it. “You’re my wife. I’m your husband. That’s the truth of it now. And I’ve been waiting all day to show you what that means.”

The words settled between you like something solid and warm. James’s gaze drifted to the small gold band on your finger, then back to your face. He reached up and gently touched one of your braids, his fingertips lingering against your cheek afterward before sliding down to rest at the side of your neck, thumb stroking the pulse there.

“Come here,” he said.

He guided you into the living room, where the old couch waited beneath the open window. A soft breeze stirred the sheer curtains. Outside, a neighbor’s wind chime rang faintly. James sat first, then drew you down beside him, close enough that your knee brushed his. For a moment neither of you spoke. The quiet of the house wrapped around you both. No guests, no cameras, no toasts left to make. Just the two of you and the soft tick of the clock on the mantel.

James’s thumb traced slow circles over the back of your hand, then higher, along the inside of your wrist. “I kept thinking about this part,” he admitted, voice rougher now. “The drive home. Walking through that door with you. Having you all to myself. Wondering how long I’d last before I got to touch you like I’ve been wanting to.”

“Me too.” Your voice was steady. “I kept wondering what it would feel like. To be alone with you like this. Really alone.”

He turned more fully toward you, one arm resting along the back of the couch, the other already sliding to your waist. “And? What does it feel like?”

You met his eyes without looking away. “Like I can finally breathe.”

A small smile curved his mouth, but there was heat under it. He leaned in and kissed you, gentle at first, almost careful. The kiss deepened quickly, his lips warm and sure against yours, tongue brushing yours with quiet intent. One of his hands came up to cradle the side of your face, the other settling firmer at your waist, fingers pressing into the fabric. You felt the solid heat of him through the thin layers, the steady rise and fall of his chest. When he drew back just enough to speak, his breath brushed your cheek, warmer now.

“I’ve wanted to do that all day,” he said. “Properly. Without an audience. Wanted to get my mouth on you and keep it there.”

You answered by kissing him again. This time the kiss held more urgency, more of the long day of waiting. James’s hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, drawing you closer until there was almost no space left between you. The soft fabric of your dress whispered against his shirt. Outside, a car passed on the quiet street. Inside, the only sound was the quiet catch of breath between kisses.

James’s mouth trailed from your lips to the corner of your jaw, then lower, brushing the sensitive skin just below your ear. He nipped lightly there, then soothed it with his tongue. You felt him smile against you when your breath hitched.

“That okay?” he asked, voice roughened.

“Yeah.”

He kissed the same spot again, slower this time, then found your mouth once more. The kiss grew deeper, hungrier. His fingers traced the line of your spine through the dress, pausing at the small buttons that ran down the back, then sliding lower to rest at the curve of your hip, squeezing once. He didn’t rush. He simply held you, kissed you, let the heat build in the quiet room until the air itself felt charged. When his hand came back up to cup the side of your breast through the fabric, it was deliberate, testing, thumb brushing slow over the peak.

When he finally drew back, his eyes were darker, his breathing uneven. “We don’t have to hurry anything,” he said. “We’ve got the rest of our lives. But I want you to know I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you right now. I want to learn every sound you make. Want to feel you under me. Want to take my time undoing every button and then take even longer with the rest.”

You rested your forehead against his. “I feel the same. It’s new for me too. All of this.”

Understanding passed between you without needing more words. James’s hand came up to cup your cheek again, thumb stroking gently over the warm brown of your skin, then down to your bottom lip. “Then we take it slow. We learn each other. There’s no one else here but us. But I’m not going to pretend I haven’t been thinking about this. About getting you out of this dress. About what you’re going to feel like when it’s just us.”

He kissed you once more, long and thorough, until the last of the day’s formality melted away. When the kiss broke, he stood and offered his hand. You took it. Together you walked through the soft afternoon light toward the hallway that led to the bedroom you now shared. The door stood half open, the white curtains already stirring in the breeze from the open window. The bed was made with the pale blue sheets James had chosen the week before, the ones he said looked like the sky after rain.

At the threshold he paused and turned to you again. His free hand found the small of your back, then slid lower, resting possessively. “Still with me?”

“Always.”

He smiled, that quiet, private smile that belonged only to you now, edged with something hungrier. Then he guided you inside, closing the door softly behind you both. The room smelled faintly of clean cotton and the lavender soap you’d left on the dresser that morning. Sunlight pooled on the floorboards. James’s hands settled at your waist, warm and steady, then pulled you flush against him so you could feel exactly how much he wanted this. Hard against your stomach. Unapologetic.

“I’ve imagined this moment a hundred times,” he murmured against your braids. “Coming home with you. Having the whole night ahead of us. Learning what makes you sigh, what makes you smile like that. What makes you grip the sheets.” His lips brushed your temple, then lower, along your jaw. “I want to take my time with you. Every button. Every kiss. I want to make sure you feel how much I love you. And how badly I’ve been wanting to get inside you.”

You turned in his arms so you could see his face. The late light caught the gold in his eyes. “I already do,” you said. “But I want to feel it again. And again.”

James’s laugh was soft, almost reverent, but his hands were already sliding up your back to the first of those small buttons. “Good. Because I plan on making you feel it all night.” He kissed you once more, deeper this time, the fabric shifting under his fingers as he worked the first button free. Outside, the wind chime sang again. Inside, the only world that mattered was the quiet space between your bodies, the shared breath, the promise of the long evening still unfolding.

He paused, forehead resting against yours. “Tell me if you want me to stop. Or slow down. Or anything at all.”

“I won’t want you to stop,” you said. “Not tonight.”

James’s eyes closed for a moment, as if the words had settled deep. When he opened them again, the look he gave you held equal parts tenderness and heat. “Then let me take care of you,” he said. “Let me show you how it feels to be mine. Properly. Completely. For the first time. I want to taste you. Want to feel you open up for me. Want to hear what you sound like when I finally get to have you.”

His mouth found yours again, and the kiss carried everything the day had built. The vows, the drive home, the quiet of the empty house. Hands moved with careful purpose, but there was no hesitation now. The soft sounds of fabric shifting filled the room as more buttons came undone. Somewhere beyond the window a bird called once and fell silent. The light continued its slow golden slide across the floor.

James guided you gently toward the bed, never breaking the kiss for long. When the backs of your knees met the mattress he eased you down, following, bracing his weight so he wouldn’t crush you. The sheets were cool against your bare shoulders. His body was warm above yours, hard where he pressed against you. One of his hands traced the line of your arm from wrist to elbow, then higher, as if memorizing the shape of you. Your braids spread across the pillow behind you. His other hand slid down your side, over the curve of your hip, and stayed there, gripping.

He rolled his hips once, slow and deliberate, the hard length of him grinding against you through the remaining layers of clothing. The friction was sharp and sweet. He did it again, deeper this time, watching your face the whole while.

“You’re steady,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Even now. Makes me want to see how long that lasts.”

“So are you. Mostly.”

He smiled against your mouth, then kissed deeper, rolling his hips again so you could feel every inch of him. The dry drag of fabric between you, the heat building with every slow grind. “Guilty. I’ve never done this either. Not with anyone who mattered. Not like this.” His voice dropped lower. “I want it to be good for you. I want to get it right. Want to take you apart slow and put you back together. Want to be the first and the only one who gets to know what you feel like when you’re mine. Want to push inside you and stay there until you forget everything else.”

You lifted a hand to his cheek. “We will. Together.”

James kissed the palm of your hand, then your wrist, then the soft inside of your elbow. Each touch was deliberate, unhurried, but there was an edge to it now, a promise. He kept moving against you, slow grinds that made the bed creak faintly, the pressure building between your bodies until it felt almost unbearable. The air thickened with shared breath and the quiet rustle of clothing being set aside piece by piece. When at last there was nothing left but skin and the fading light, James rested his forehead against yours once more, one hand sliding between your thighs with careful intent, fingers finding the heat of you.

“I love you,” he said, voice rough. “I’m going to keep saying it until you get tired of hearing it. And I’m going to keep touching you until you forget how to say anything else. Want to feel you take me. Want to be the first one inside you. Want to move with you until neither of us can think straight.”

“I won’t get tired of it.”

catching nerdsung staring at ur lips as u bite them, covering them in spit because you forgot your chapstick at home, and all he can think about is covering them in his cum and spit instead... a few weeks later, you're over at his house doing a group project when you notice his huge stupid cock twitching and leaking in his pants :(( poor virgin loser couldn't help but get hard seeing such a hot person get so close!!!! silly ji <3 you decide to let him fuck you as a reward for carrying you on the assignment...poor sungie whining when he finally bottoms out, whimpering because its so hot and tight and warm and overwhelming and its squeezing his dick better than his pathetic hand ever could :( he cant help but go fast because hes so inexperienced and can't control what his dick does, he keeps going faster and faster, panting into your shoulder and lapping at the hickeys and bite marks he left until he finally cums and pulls out all slow and sensitive. his glasses are fogged up and his dick is still hard, poor sungie can't stop getting stiffies over his classmate <3

Who dresses up like this to see a friend?

The last time I had properly seen Anton - besides the occasional friendly look or a quick chat when we bumped into each other in the streets - was at the last swimming championships. We were 18 and since then had moved on with our own lives, college getting in the way of hobbies. However, unknowingly, this was about to change.

It was that time of year when you walk the streets of Boston and 1 in 3 men would be meandering around with their tops off, slung over their red raw shoulders. For my mom, that meant it was annual cookout time. As per usual, being the socialite she is, she invited every single one of her connections - and with Anton's mom being her best friend, he was bound to show up.

Although Anton and I had began to see each other less and less, nothing was ever awkward between us. A five minute phone call would end up with us yapping on about random shit for 5 hours, a quick coffee hangout would always end up with an hour trip to the bar, everything was still the same deep down; just two kids who'd met through their hobbies. Come to July 2026, Anton and I hadn't spoken to each other for 3 months now, but with college coming to an end, this was about to change.