#yeon si-eun

"Dude... what are you doing here?" Humin had asked, teasing but intrigued.

Si-eun had startled. The icy mask they knew so well had returned immediately. He had put the garment back and turned around, his expression closed off.

"It's not for me. It's... for a neighbor. She asked me to."

Silence. The three boys exchanged a look. His tone was too dry, too defensive. Not Si-eun's usual way when he was half-lying.

Hyun-tak raised an eyebrow. "A neighbor? You mean you're volunteering now?"

"Forget it," Si-eun had simply replied before leaving, bag slung over his shoulder, his back stiff.

They watched him walk away without saying anything. Something was wrong. It wasn't the first time he had left abruptly, lied poorly, or dodged seemingly harmless questions. But this... there was something different in his eyes. A tenderness they hadn't known in him. A crack.

***

A few days later, Humin saw him in a pharmacy, buying iron supplements and folic acid. He hadn't noticed him yet. He had that focused, almost feverish look. As if he was afraid of making a mistake, of taking the wrong dosage. Humin had observed him from afar, an odd unease in his throat. He hadn't said anything, not at that moment. But that image had stayed with him.

***

Then, one rainy day, everything changed.

The four of them were in the high school hallway, a break between classes. The sky was low, gray, humid. Juntae was talking about video games, Humin was half-laughing, but Si-eun wasn't listening. His phone vibrated once. He took it out, read the message. His face turned white.

Then a second vibration. He replied, his fingers trembling.

And suddenly, he stood up abruptly, knocking his chair back.

"Where are you going?" Hyun-tak asked, surprised.

But Si-eun didn't answer. He was already running, bag across his chest, his face contorted by a panic they had never seen in him.

This wasn't just an unexpected event. It wasn't a mood swing. It was a visceral fear. A fear of losing.

They stood frozen for a moment, then Humin, the most curious, approached the desk he had left in a hurry. And there, he saw what he would never have imagined.

A notebook. Open. Ultrasound scans.

Names. Dates.

Y/N.

Pregnancy – 28 weeks.

The three of them looked at each other, shocked. The world around them seemed to stop suddenly. There was nothing but these black and white images, this blurry silhouette of a baby yet to be born, and the first name they had never heard. They didn't understand everything. But enough to know that Si-eun had hidden something immense from them.

***

The next day, they had decided to talk to him. To force him to explain himself. They knew he wouldn't come to them on his own.

But fate had chosen a different scene for the truth.

They found him in a corner of the high school, near the old art building. He was there, frozen, back hunched, facing his parents.

His mother was speaking loudly. Too loudly. A contained, icy anger.

"Do you realize what you're doing?! You're seventeen, Si-eun! Seventeen!"

"You were supposed to go abroad, get into a prestigious university! And now? You want to stay here? With a girl you got pregnant?"

His father's voice, lower but even harsher: "You're ruining everything. Absolutely everything."

They stayed hidden behind a pillar. Not a word passed. No jokes. No smiles.

They heard everything. Y/N's name. The pregnancy. The sacrifices. The sleepless nights. The choice not to run away.

And then Si-eun's voice, choked with emotion.

"Do you think I chose this? Do you think I had a plan? I'm doing what I can! She... she has no one left. And neither do I, if you continue like this."

His mother approached. They could sense a mixture of fear and despair in her voice.

"She's nothing to you, Si-eun. It's a mistake. You can still pull yourself together. You can leave. Study. Forget."

And then he exploded.

"I DON'T WANT TO FORGET!"

he shouted, his voice breaking.

"I love her. She's pregnant. And I'll be there. You don't understand because you've never been there for me either. You've never seen. Never heard. When I fell, she was the one who picked me up. Not you."

The silence after these words was deafening. His mother had stepped back, her face frozen. His father had lowered his eyes. Then, without a word, they had left, their steps stiff, their anger burning but powerless.

And he had stayed there, alone. His shoulders slumped. His breath short.

He was trembling.

Not with rage this time. But with fatigue. With exhaustion. With a weight too heavy for a boy his age.

His friends emerged from their hiding place slowly.

Humin was the first to take a step. Then Juntae. Then Hyun-tak.

They didn't know what to say. They had heard everything. Seen everything.

And facing them was Si-eun. Not the cold strategist, the untouchable boy. No. A teenager on the verge of collapse. A future father. Still a child himself, forced to become an adult at a brutal speed.

Si-eun didn't even look up. He clenched his fists, his teeth. He was trying to hold back. But it was too late. Tears welled up. He had held on for too long.

And the truth, bare, now weighed on his shoulders, with no more secrets from anyone.

His friends were there. Silent.

But they too had changed.

They saw the dark circles under his eyes. The calloused hands. The broken look.

And suddenly, anger rose within them. Not against him. Against this unfair world. Against the isolation he had gone through alone. Against the fact that he hadn't believed he could talk to them about it.

Humin clenched his fists. Juntae looked away, his throat tight. Hyun-tak, for his part, bit his lip.

No one spoke.

Not yet.

Because sometimes, words are not enough.

But at that precise moment, in that forgotten corner of the high school, something had just shifted.

They were no longer three friends facing a secretive boy.

They were four.

And now they knew.

---

The silence that followed the departure of Si-eun's parents was almost religious. Not a word. Not a breath. All that could be heard was the wind rushing through the deserted hallway, shaking the dead leaves on the ground.

Yeon Si-eun remained with his back to them, motionless. He knew they were there. He had heard their footsteps, felt their presence. Part of him wanted to run. To flee again. But he no longer had the strength.

He turned around slowly. His eyes were red, but he was no longer crying. His face was hard. Frozen.

Humin approached first. His gaze was tense, not accusatory, but filled with a dull ache.

"How long have you been hiding all this from us?"

Si-eun opened his mouth, then closed it again. He had no clear answer. No justification that wouldn't sound like betrayal or an excuse.

"A long time, I guess," he said, his voice broken.

Hyun-tak stepped forward in turn, shaking his head, looking both shocked and furious.

"What did you think? That we'd turn our backs on you? That we couldn't understand?"

"It's not that…" Si-eun murmured.

Juntae, usually the most reserved, spoke in a low but firm voice.

"Then what was it? Were you ashamed of us? Or of her?"

That sentence hit him hard. He finally looked up. There was a raw pain in his eyes, a fresh wound.

"Never. Never of her."

He inhaled, his jaw clenched, then exploded softly:

"I didn't know how to tell you, okay? I didn't know how… to explain it to you."

He looked at them one by one.

"I didn't have the luxury of choosing. One morning, she told me she was pregnant, and everything I knew collapsed. I… I did what I could. I acted. I held on. But I couldn't involve you in this."

Humin raised his eyebrows, hurt.

"Involve us? We're your friends, Si-eun. Your circle. You fight for everyone, but you think we don't have the right to fight for you?"

"It's not a question of right!" Si-eun burst out. "It's… it's a question of survival."

He took a few nervous steps. The ground seemed to tremble beneath his feet.

"I couldn't afford to make a mistake. Couldn't afford to break down. Every day, I had to be there, strong, precise. She has no one left. She sleeps in an empty apartment with a blanket that's too thin and pain in her stomach. And I'm doing what I can to keep her going. If I started talking, crying, asking for help, I would have crumbled."

Hyun-tak gritted his teeth. His fists were clenched.

"So you crumbled all by yourself."

"Do you think we wouldn't have understood your fear? Your exhaustion?"

Juntae, arms crossed, added more calmly:

"You cut yourself off from us, Si-eun. We're not just guys you beat people up with or study math with. We're… your friends, damn it."

Those words made something inside him tremble.

"I never wanted to hurt you," Si-eun whispered.

"But you did anyway," Humin replied, his eyes shining.

Silence fell again for a moment. Si-eun ran a hand over his face, as if to brush away the fatigue that clung to his skin like a second layer.

He finally sat down on a step, his shoulders slumped. The others remained standing, hesitant.

His voice became lower, almost childlike.

"I was scared. Not of being a father. That came like a clap of thunder… but it brought light."

He looked ahead, his gaze lost.

"I was scared… of not being up to it. Of messing everything up. Of being like my parents. Cold. Distant. I was scared of betraying Y/N. Of dragging her down with me."

He looked up at them, vulnerable.

"I saw the three of you, laughing, running, talking about your games, your dreams… And I was going home to prepare a hot meal. To help her sit down when her legs gave way. To watch for contractions."

"Do you think we would have laughed at you?" Juntae asked softly.

"No. But I wanted to protect you. From my chaos."

Hyun-tak ran a hand through his hair, shaken.

"You protected us… but you were all alone. You could have died in a corner, and we would have never known why."

Humin's voice was more shaky now.

"And her, Y/N… Does she love you?"

Si-eun nodded slowly.

"Yes. She's never said it in words. But I see it. Every day. In her silences. In the way she waits for me. The way she looks at me when I come home."

Hyun-tak sat down next to him, for the first time.

"And you? How do you love her?"

Si-eun closed his eyes. For a long moment.

Then he replied, in a hoarse voice:

"Like a shipwrecked person loves the shore. Like winter loves the light. I love her… defenselessly."

A profound silence fell.

And then, gently, Juntae sat down in turn. Then Humin.

They stayed there, all four of them, in a circle, as in the old days… but changed.

Humin finally murmured:

"You should have trusted us sooner."

"I know," Si-eun whispered.

Hyun-tak looked up at him.

"You're not alone, idiot. Not now. Not after all this."

A breath escaped Si-eun. Something like a sigh. Or the beginning of relief.

Humin placed a hand on his shoulder.

"We're going to help you. Not because you deserve it or not. But because we're here. Do you understand that?"

Si-eun nodded, unable to speak.

He had never asked to be saved.

But sometimes, the simple fact that someone offers you a hand is enough to pull you back from the edge.

And that day, for the first time in a long time, he felt less alone.

Not saved. Not yet.

But less alone.

And that was already huge.

---

His friends had been badgering him for two days.

"We want to meet her."

"She's carrying your baby, dude. That's literally family now."

"If you refuse again, I swear I'll tell all the supervisors you're hiding a pregnant woman in a dodgy apartment."

They hadn't let up. And Si-eun, despite all his resistance, had finally given in.

Reluctantly.

Because it was Y/N. Because she didn't like being the center of attention. Because she had experienced too much judgment. Too many heavy silences and sharp looks. But he had finally told them about her, and something in their eyes had reassured him.

They weren't there to judge her.

They were there to understand. To share.

And, perhaps, to love.

It was 6:34 PM when they arrived at the apartment door.

Humin was holding a plastic bag filled with snacks and drinks. Juntae had bought a pack of baby socks, too small, but so cute that even Si-eun hadn't been able to complain. Hyun-tak, for his part, hadn't said anything during the whole trip, but his gaze betrayed a feverish concentration, as if he were preparing to take an oral exam.

Si-eun looked at them, one eyebrow raised.

"You guys remind me of high schoolers going to meet their girlfriend's parents."

Hyun-tak sighed, nervous:

"And you look like a single dad expecting a social services inspection."

A small, discreet smile appeared on Si-eun's lips, but he didn't reply.

He opened the door.

The apartment was modest. An empty living room, with only an old rug in the center, a two-seater sofa, and a small, wobbly coffee table. The bedroom at the back was closed. The walls were clean but bare. The air smelled of rice, laundry detergent, and something sweet… like the scent of warm milk or cotton.

Y/N appeared in the doorway.

Small figure, oversized sweater, pregnancy pants that fell a little over her ankles. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun. Her complexion was pale, and she had dark circles under her eyes. But she was smiling. Gently. With a charming reserve.

She bowed slightly, her cheeks flushed.

"Hello."

The boys bowed in return, awkwardly.

"Hello!"

"Nice to meet you!"

"We're the goons who hang out with Si-eun."

Y/N giggled. A light, shy, but sincere sound.

Yeon Si-eun closed the door behind them in silence. He stood near Y/N, out of reflex. She gently reached out to grab a piece of his sleeve. Just for a second. As if to draw a little courage.

Humin approached first.

"I'm Humin. Thank you for having us. We're really happy to meet you. Finally, Y/N. Si-eun told us everything. Well, not everything, but… now we know."

Y/N nodded, a little lost in the words.

Juntae followed, a childlike smile on his lips.

"We brought a little something. I don't know if it'll be useful right away, but… it was too cute."

He handed her the tiny socks.

Y/N took them, hesitant, then her eyes widened.

"Oh…" she murmured. "They're adorable."

She looked up at him, sincere.

"Thank you so much."

Hyun-tak stayed a little behind, arms crossed, then approached slowly.

"I… I'm not very good at these kinds of meetings. But… you seem nice. And brave."

Y/N lowered her eyes, touched.

Si-eun watched the scene. In silence. His heart was beating faster than usual. It wasn't stress. It was… something else. A form of total vulnerability. He no longer controlled the situation. He was no longer protecting Y/N behind barriers. He was exposing her to the gaze of those he loved most after her.

And she was smiling.

She was radiant.

She was offering his friends that discreet light that he thought only he could see.

They all sat down on the floor, for lack of chairs. Y/N offered them tea, then sat down carefully on the sofa. Her hands rested on her stomach. She spoke little but listened attentively.

Humin told an embarrassing story about Si-eun from their first year. Juntae imitated a teacher with unexpected comedic talent. Hyun-tak, despite his silence, observed Y/N with growing tenderness.

And Si-eun? He was there. A little apart. Both present and absent.

He listened to them laugh. Watching Y/N laugh. He said nothing. But inside, something was opening up. Like a door they thought was sealed shut, slowly opening under a warm light.

He even surprised himself by smiling. Not out of obligation. Not to reassure. But because the scene before him was… beautiful.

Y/N, shyly, recounted how Si-eun had fallen asleep half-sitting while massaging her ankles. The boys laughed. Si-eun grumbled, but his gaze remained fixed on her. Fascinated.

At one point, she got up to get a cushion and moved slowly. The boys followed her with their eyes. Her stomach was visible now. Fragile roundness. Promise of life.

Juntae murmured, without even realizing it:

"It's crazy. She's carrying a mini you."

Humin nodded, touched:

"And she's doing it with so much grace…"

Si-eun felt his throat tighten.

Y/N returned, sat down carefully. Then she looked at the boys, hesitated, and murmured:

"I'm glad you're here. He doesn't talk much, but… he cares about you. A lot."

They all fell silent, surprised.

Then Hyun-tak murmured:

"We care about him too. And about you, now."

A discreet tear rolled down Y/N's cheek. She wiped it away quickly, embarrassed.

"Sorry. I'm tired. And emotional."

"Don't worry," Humin said gently. "You can cry. We're getting used to it. Si-eun does the same when he watches commercials with baby dogs."

Si-eun's dark glare triggered a general burst of laughter.

Y/N laughed too. A soft, fragile, but whole laugh.

And at that moment, Si-eun understood something.

He was no longer alone.

Neither was she.

This small, empty living room had become a place of love. Of connections. Of tenderness.

And as the evening slowly faded, as the boys mentally noted the sofa to be changed, the table that was too low, the empty wall to decorate, Si-eun looked at his friends and the woman he loved.

And he thought, for the first time in a long time, that maybe… just maybe… he was going to make it.

---

They had never said they loved her. Not out loud. But she had understood.

The little acts of kindness had started like accidents, or at least, that's what they pretended. None of the boys wanted to admit that they had become attached to Y/N. For them, she was "Si-eun's girlfriend," "the future mom," "the quiet girl," and above all: not their problem. At least, that's what they had said, in the beginning.

But their actions quickly contradicted their words.

The first, of course, had been Hyun-tak. He had shown up one afternoon with a baby crib, half-assembled, the screws in a plastic bag he had almost forgotten on the bus. He had knocked on the door like a hurried delivery man, then slipped into the apartment with the energy of a guy who knew exactly what he was doing.

"The kid's gotta sleep somewhere, right?" he had said, putting the boxes on the floor.

Y/N's eyes had widened. Si-eun, for his part, had remained stoic.

"Are you moving in now?" he had asked in a dry tone.

Hyun-tak had glanced at him over his shoulder. "It's not for you, blockhead. It's for her."

He had pointed at Y/N with his chin, as if it were obvious, as if the question didn't even arise. Then he had started screwing the pieces of the crib together, never really asking where to put it. He had acted as if he were part of the household.

And in a way, he already was.

The sofa had come later, and with it, Humin, in grand style.

He had entered the apartment as if announcing a global surprise.

"TA-DAA!" he had yelled, holding a small delivery receipt in one hand and a half-eaten banana in the other. "I found the sofa of the century! And guess what, Y/N? It even has a built-in footrest."

She had laughed. For real. A discreet but clear burst, almost surprised herself at how it made her feel. She hadn't laughed much lately. And there, faced with Humin's ridiculousness, she had felt… light.

Humin, proud as a peacock, hadn't stopped grumbling at Si-eun when he had dared to criticize the color.

"Hey, it's not for you! Have you seen your taste? If I had listened to you, She would still be sitting on the floor!"

One day, while Si-eun was working after school, the boys had accompanied him to his student job in a dingy little cafe. Juntae had sat at a table, legs crossed, a newspaper upside down in front of him, as if he were overseeing a top-secret operation.

"I'll have a coffee every ten minutes. And you better make sure you don't serve me the dregs, got it?" he had said, his gaze mocking.

Meanwhile, Humin would sneak behind the counter whenever the boss had his back turned, starting to wipe glasses or making faces at the customers.

Hyun-tak, more discreet, had simply folded napkins at an inhuman speed, visibly determined to let Si-eun go home earlier.

"You gotta go home, man," he had whispered to Si-eun. "She's waiting for you. And it's not good for her to be stressed. She sleeps badly when you're not there."

"Since when are you her obstetrician?" Si-eun had muttered.

Hyun-tak had just smiled at him. "Since you started being the guy who moans in his sleep while whispering her name."

But it was perhaps that day that they had really crossed over: the day they had seen her alone in the street.

Y/N was carrying a backpack and two shopping bags, her face tired, her hair pulled back, walking slowly along the main shopping street. Si-eun was still at school that day, held back for a presentation.

The boys had spotted her from afar.

"That's her, right?" Juntae had said, a little surprised.

They hadn't quite known what to do. She hadn't seen them yet. But what they had seen were the looks.

That elderly couple staring at her with a disapproving frown. Those students whispering. That guy who had slowed down as he passed by, as if to double-check what he thought he had seen.

And without even conferring, the three boys had stepped forward.

Humin had appeared at her side first, his smile big and bright.

"HEY! You were shopping without us? You know that breaks my heart?"

Y/N had startled, surprised, then started to smile shyly.

"We were just passing by," Juntae had added, placing himself right next to her to take a bag. "See? You don't even need to ask. We read your mind."

Hyun-tak had said nothing. He had just stood on the other side of the street, arms crossed, his gaze dark, scanning the passersby like a silent bodyguard. And strangely, the looks had become more discreet, the whispers had stopped.

Y/N hadn't suspected a thing.

She had just thought they were there for her. And they were.

The gestures had continued.

Juntae, one evening, had left a box of vitamins in front of their door, without saying anything. A small note on it simply read: "For her. Not for you, Si-eun. You're a lost cause."

Another time, Humin had brought back a whale-shaped nightlight that he had found "too cute to be left there" and had placed it on the table unceremoniously.

"It makes different colors, look!" he had said, all excited, frantically pressing the buttons.

Y/N, seeing him do that, had had tears in her eyes. Not because it was inherently moving, but because this nightlight, this unnecessary gesture, this absurdity... it was the first time in a long time that she had felt cherished.

And when she had turned to Si-eun that evening, she had whispered, almost to herself:

"I think they like me."

He had shrugged. But a smile was gently stretching his lips.

"They have good taste."

With each gesture, the boys made a point of reminding him that nothing was for him.

When Hyun-tak had changed the bathroom light bulbs:

"Not for you. She's the one who needs them."

When Juntae had installed blackout curtains in the bedroom:

"It's not for your baby sleep, huh, it's so she can take naps without getting a headache."

When Humin had brought a speaker to play soft music:

"If you use it to listen to weird rap, I'm taking it back."

Si-eun said nothing. But each gesture melted away a part of his armor. He had spent months fighting alone. Carrying the whole world. And now, these idiots were stealing his burdens one by one, as if they had always been there.

Y/N saw it too. She saw how, thanks to them, Si-eun was starting to breathe.

And she too, was letting herself be carried. Just a little. Enough to smile more often. Enough to laugh when Humin complained that the baby didn't talk to him when he put his head against her belly.

"I'm sure he doesn't like me. It's a conspiracy."

"He's sleeping, idiot," Si-eun would reply.

But the most beautiful thing was what they didn't say.

It was the time they had covered the fridge with little notes for her. Encouragement. Jokes. Badly drawn animals.

It was the time they had all cooked a terrible but edible meal, and Y/N had pretended it was delicious.

It was the time they had all slept in the living room "just in case she goes into labor tonight," even though she was six months along.

And every time they did something, they would look Si-eun straight in the eye and say:

"This isn't for you."

But they both knew that it was precisely for the two of them. Because they were a family now. And in this circle they formed without even trying, Y/N had found a place she hadn't even suspected she deserved.

But they had known it from the beginning.

---

A few weeks later

A routine had settled in. Slowly. Y/N progressed in her pregnancy, with her gentle silences and light smiles. Si-eun, more tired than ever, juggled classes, odd jobs, and a thousand responsibilities. And the boys—Juntae, Humin, Hyun-tak—kept showing up, pretending not to get too attached, even though it had been too late for a long time.

They formed a strange family. Lopsided. Woven with awkwardness, burnt coffee, and animal-shaped nightlights. But a real family, in their own way.

Until that Saturday.

It was supposed to be a normal afternoon. The boys were out buying silly things for the baby's room. Humin absolutely wanted to find a cloud-shaped garland. Juntae grumbled. Hyun-tak followed, his gaze lost.

And then they saw him.

Si-eun.

Standing in front of a downtown pastry shop. With a girl.

Not Y/N.

A girl taller than Y/N, hair down, tight jeans, loud laugh. She had placed her hand on Si-eun's arm. He hadn't pushed her away. He was laughing too. A frank, complicit laugh.

It lasted three seconds.

Three seconds where their whole world crumbled.

Humin was the first to speak.

"No... No, don't tell me he..."

Juntae, pale, jaw clenched: "It's a joke. It's a fucking joke."

And Hyun-tak. He said nothing. He just clenched his fists. His knuckles white. His gaze dark.

Not one of them thought to ask questions. Not one thought that maybe—just maybe—there was an explanation.

Because they had seen Si-eun's smile.

And for them, it was betrayal.

That same evening.

They hadn't given him time to go home.

They had waited for him outside his work. Like an ambush.

It was cold. The sky hung low. And in their eyes, there was no tenderness left.

Si-eun had seen them from afar. He had known.

But he hadn't run.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, calm but defensive.

Hyun-tak stepped forward first.

"Does she know?"

His voice was dry. Brittle.

Si-eun frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Humin exploded.

"WHAT AM I TALKING ABOUT?! About you hanging out with another chick while Y/N is sleeping in your bed with your kid in her belly! Do you want us to draw you a picture?!"

Juntae spat on the ground. "Have you been messing with us from the start, or did you just change your mind?"

Si-eun took a step back. Shocked. Not by their words. But by their hatred.

"Wait... You think I'm cheating on her?"

"What am I supposed to think?!" Humin yelled. "I saw you! You were laughing, you... you were looking at her like... like you've never looked at Y/N!"

"She touched your arm, damn it!" Juntae added. "She touched you, and you did nothing!"

The tension was electric. Si-eun could have hit them. He could have screamed. But he stood there, frozen. His heart pounding as if it would burst out of his ribs.

"She was the new gynecologist," he said finally. In a sharp tone.

Silence.

But he didn't let them breathe.

"Y/N had back pain. She didn't want to go out. So I took her tests, her papers, I went to talk to the specialist in her place. She laughed because I asked if she could prescribe candy instead of folic acid. And I laughed too. Because I was exhausted. And for once, I just… breathed. For a minute. One fucking minute."

He approached. Slowly. His gaze dark. Icy.

"And you… You think I betrayed her? You think I'm that guy?"

Hyun-tak faltered.

But Humin, still seething, spat: "We think you had no right to smile like that with someone else."

This time, Si-eun laughed. A harsh laugh. Joyless.

"I don't have the right to smile? Seriously? I haven't slept more than three hours a night for two months. I work during the day, I stay up at night. I get up at five in the morning to find oranges because Y/N was craving them. I canceled all my friends, all my plans, I sold my console, my clothes, everything I had for this kid. But because I smiled for two seconds, I become an asshole?!"

Humin lowered his head.

Juntae, jaw tight, was clutching his bag so hard the seams were creaking.

But Hyun-tak, slowly, stepped forward. His face had softened. He placed a hand on Si-eun's shoulder.

"We panicked."

"You exploded," Si-eun corrected.

Hyun-tak came closer, hesitant. He had never been good with words. But now, he had to find them.

"We saw you smile. Sincerely. And… I think it scared us. Because we don't see you smile like that anymore. Not often. Even with her."

He grimaced. Struck by his own truth.

"We were afraid you were looking for air somewhere else."

Si-eun looked at him, frowning. Then more softly:

"And you think I have the luxury of breathing elsewhere? You think I even have time to imagine such a thing? Y/N, she's…"

His voice broke for a moment.

"She's my choice. My world. My damn promise. I'm standing because she's there. And the day she believes I'm looking elsewhere, she'll collapse. And so will I."

Silence returned. But it was different this time.

Full of shame. And recognition.

Humin finally approached.

"We're idiots."

"Top-tier," Juntae agreed.

And Hyun-tak offered a wry smile.

"But idiots because we care about her," Hyun-tak murmured. "And we care about you too, even if you're a dumbass."

Si-eun looked at him. For a long time. And sighed.

He didn't forgive them. He didn't hug them. Not tonight.

But he stayed there. Looking at them, his eyes burning.

And that was enough.

For this time.

---

It was the holidays. Finally.

Not that it changed anything for them: no one had really had time to rest for months. But the very idea of vacation sounded like a miracle. No more classes, no more endless schedules, just... an imminent birth to manage.

Super relaxing.

And that night, it happened.

Y/N was in pain. A lot of pain. Then a lot, lot more pain. She had huffed, groaned, insulted everyone except Si-eun (and even then, maybe "move or I'll decapitate you" counted). Si-eun, for his part, had gone into robot mode: suitcase, papers, blanket, water bottle, tight smile.

Direction: the hospital.

And there, it was chaos.

Hours. Screams. Cold sweats. Contractions every five, then three, then one minute. Midwives coming and going. And in the middle, Si-eun, pale, clinging to Y/N's hand, muttering under his breath: "We'll get through this. We'll get through this. We'll get through this..."

And then... the cry.

A first one. Loud. Piercing.

The world stopped for a second.

It was her. Their baby.

Si-eun felt his legs give way a little. Tears in his eyes, heart in pieces.

But just as he was about to collapse with relief...

"OH. MY. GOD." exclaimed the midwife.

Y/N blinked. "What now?"

"There's another one!"

Si-eun: "...

...Excuse me?"

TWO ??

There were two.

Two babies. Twins.

Si-eun stood motionless. He watched the doctors bustling around, Y/N collapsing with fatigue, the two babies crying like sirens... and his soul temporarily left his body.

Two.

Two bottles. Two diapers. Two pacifiers. Two reasons to never sleep again.

The boys didn't arrive until dawn.

Rushed, disheveled, still bleary-eyed. Hyun-tak had an empty coffee cup. Humin was wearing his t-shirt inside out. Juntae... Juntae had forgotten his shoes.

"WE'RE HERE!" Humin yelled, opening the door. "WE'RE HERE, SI-EUN!"

Si-eun raised his head, looking like a man who had seen war. Literally. Hair a mess, bloodshot eyes, dark circles that would make a panda cry.

"Shut up. Y/N is sleeping. And wash your hands."

"Dude..." Hyun-tak blinked. "Is it me or... are there two of them?"

Silence.

The three of them froze.

Their eyes went from the two cribs... to Si-eun.

Then back to the cribs.

Then back to Si-eun.

Humin was the first to speak:

"Did you click on the baby twice online or something?"

Juntae, in a grave tone: "Dude... Is this a system bug? Was there a 'buy one, get one free' promotion?"

Hyun-tak, more calmly: "Make just one baby was too much to ask, huh ? I'm out. This is too much."

But he didn't move.

Si-eun stared at them. Slowly. Coldly.

"Two. Two babies. And I swear, I already love them. But if you laugh even ONE MORE TIME, I'll hit you with an iron baby bottle."

Humin approached, leaned over the twins.

"Is... Is this real?"

One of the babies sneezed.

Humin jumped back as if she had fired a laser beam. "IT MOVED!"

"Well, it's a baby, Humin, not a Greek statue," Si-eun muttered.

Juntae, hands on his head: "You really have two. That's... wow. You're officially dead, man. RIP."

Hyun-tak had advanced more slowly. He observed. Then whispered, with an almost moving seriousness:

"They're so tiny. They look like... living noodles. But like... cute ones."

Si-eun grimaced.

"Is that supposed to be endearing?"

"It's Hyun-tak, man. Don't try to understand."

But none of them said the real thing. The real thought.

He did it. He really did it. And they're here. They're his. Theirs, a little.

And then, Humin, barely washed (badly, probably), reached out towards one of the cribs.

"Can I?"

"Did you wash your hands?" Si-eun raised an eyebrow.

"Of course!"

"Soap? Between your fingers? Your nails?"

"...I'll be right back."

Half an hour later, after finally passing Si-eun's germaphobic security, the boys were able to approach, one by one.

Humin melted.

"She looked at me. It's settled. I'm her godfather."

"No one said that."

"She CHOSE me."

Juntae took a photo. Then two. Then thirty.

"I'm going to make an album. Title: 'Si-eun Before the Fall.'"

Hyun-tak, more discreet, placed a finger against the tiny hand of one of the girls.

She gripped it.

He said nothing. But he stayed there for a long time, his gaze blurry, as if he were remembering something he had never had.

Si-eun watched them.

And sighed.

"You're going to be terrible godfathers."

"The worst," Humin confirmed.

"But they'll always have someone," Hyun-tak added softly.

Si-eun closed his eyes for a moment.

Then smiled.

Tired. Battered. But whole.

"Yeah. They'll have us."

And it was terrifying.

But it was also perfect.

In their own way.

..................................................................................