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“Increases your chances by 80%” does not mean “there is now an 80% chance”. 

If your chances were previously 10%, your chances are now 18%, not 90%. 

if your chances were roughly 1%, they’re now just slightly less than 2%. 

So I almost forgot to post this, but thank you all for being patient with me. Also yes this is another multi-part series. If somone could actually help me to create a master list, I WOULD LOVE YOU.

W/C: 2.5K

Themes: Slow AF burn...

The sky was the color of an old bruise, and London was doing that thing where the rain commits but the people don’t. Umbrellas half-open, shoulders hunched, eyes on screens. I was balanced between two lives and two cardboard trays of milk, trying to keep both from tipping.

I’d told Yasmina’s pastry chef I could grab last-minute supplies for tomorrow’s pop-up. “It’ll be easy, Y/N,” she’d said. “Ten minutes. In and out.” Ten minutes, my arse. I’d added oat, almond, a stack of compostable lids, and a second tray of semi-skim because I can’t not overprepare. The bar codes weren’t scanning, my phone died at checkout, and the rain was now biblical. Classic.

I cut under a low awning and nearly collided with a glass door plastered with a discreet sign: NORTH BANK STUDIOS — AFTER HOURS ENTRY. Warm light pooled inside. Music bled through the walls, a heartbeat I could feel in my wrists.

The tray slipped. I saved the milk, sacrificed my dignity, and thunked my head softly against the door, laughing at how ridiculous I must look: drowning rat, dead phone, armful of dairy.

The door clicked.

“Careful.”

His voice was smoke and gravel, the kind of gentle that makes you exhale. A palm appeared, steadying the edge of the tray. I looked up into eyes that held too many midnights.

“Thanks.” I wobbled a smile. “Sorry. I’m fine. Mostly. This is just… heavier than it looks.”

He held the door open, rain dots jeweled on his hoodie. There was a familiar curve to his mouth, a kindness that felt like déjà vu. I knew him the way you know a song you’ve played to hold yourself together.

“You’re soaked,” he said. Not accusing, just observing, like he collected details the way other people collected receipts. “You can wait inside. Dry off.”

“It’s okay—” I started, which is what you say when it’s not okay. The rain flung another sheet at the pavement, and the city answered with a hiss. “Okay. Maybe a minute.”

The lobby was warm, humming with the kind of sleepy electricity that belongs to places that invent things at unreasonable hours. He shook his hood back. Brown curls clung to his forehead. Those eyes again, careful and bright.

“Do you work here?” I asked.

He smiled like he chose his smiles. “Sometimes.” The word had a dozen rooms inside it. “Got a session upstairs. Do you need a towel or—”

“I’ll drip respectfully in this corner,” I said, and he laughed, and it felt like finding a light switch in a strange room.

We shuffled an awkward dance with the trays and a lopsided umbrella. He shrugged off his hoodie and handed it to me without thinking it through. I took it without pretending I would refuse.

“I’m Y/N,” I said into the fabric, which smelled like laundry and rain and something warm that had a beat.

“Chan,” he said.

The name hit me like a soft shock I had been expecting. Of course it’s you. I didn’t say it. I didn’t say I had worked entire morning shifts to a playlist that knew his voice better than I knew half my coworkers. I didn’t say I had once steadied my breathing to a song he’d produced in a Tesco queue when the world was loud. I just nodded. “Nice to meet you, sometimes-works-here Chan.”

“Nice to meet you, armful-of-dairy Y/N.” His grin tilted. “Do you need help carrying this somewhere?”

I did. Pride is a funny shape. “I’m dropping it at a café two blocks over,” I said. “But I’ll wait for the rain to lose interest.”

He glanced at the glass, where water streaked like melted graphite. “It won’t,” he said softly, like a prophecy.

We stood in the lobby with the rain as a metronome. Somewhere above us, a bass line kicked and retreated. He shifted, like he was fighting the gravity of upstairs and the gravity of here.

“Can I ask you something?” he said.

“Depends on the something.”

He nodded at the trays. “Why do you look like someone gave you a list and a deadline and a dare?”

“Because they did.” I peeled his hoodie off my damp shoulders, folding it like reverence. “New café-gallery hybrid. We open early, close late. We’re either a brilliant idea or a very shiny car crash. Tonight I’m in-charge-of-milk-girl.”

“I’ve been in-charge-of-milk-boy,” he said, sincerity under the joke. “It’s a sacred duty.”

We fell into the kind of conversation that feels like you’re both reaching for the same shelf. He asked good questions and listened to the answers like they mattered. He didn’t offer solutions. He didn’t fill the silence with facts about himself. He was the kind of quiet that opens doors.

My phone, long dead, sat like a useless pebble in my pocket. His buzzed on the lobby desk, cruel timing. He glanced at the screen, thumb paused, jaw tightens-neutral. Then he looked back at me like he’d decided what to choose and would regret either.

“You should go,” I said gently. “The studio will start sending search parties.”

“They’ll live.” He leaned his forearms on the desk, eyes a warm, steady thing. “You remind me of—” He cut himself off, shook his head. “Never mind.”

“I’ll take the compliment I’m pretending that was,” I said, and he huffed a laugh.

Outside, the rain slackened to merely malicious.

“I can carry one tray,” he offered, already moving like it was decided.

“You don’t have to—”

“I know.” He picked up the heavier one, easy. “Come on, in-charge-of-milk-girl. Let’s outrun the weather.”

We did our ridiculous jog-walk down the street, both laughing when a taxi sent a tidal wave over our trainers. The café was sleeping behind its shutters, but the side door took my key and the alarm accepted my code on the second try. We slipped inside, the quiet stretching around us, a skeletal city of chairs on tables.

I set the tray down in the walk-in and came back to find him tracing the chalkboard menu with his eyes, cataloguing. He didn’t touch anything. He didn’t have to.

“You’re good at pretending to belong everywhere,” I said, leaning against the counter to keep my heart from doing something reckless.

He tilted his head. “And you’re good at making everywhere feel like it belongs to you.”

The compliment landed low and warm and terrifying. I looked down. The minute stretched; the air changed shape. Thunder rolled somewhere distant, like a reminder.

He cleared his throat first. “I should… get back.”

“Right.” The word tasted like too many things. I folded his hoodie again, palms smoothing fabric I didn’t want to give back. “Thank you. For rescuing me from my poor life choices.”

“Anytime.” He took the hoodie, thumb brushing the seam my hand had just left. My skin remembered it. “If you ever need—” He stopped, and the sentence hung like a bridge over a canyon. “Never mind. You’ll be fine.”

The door chime was too bright when he left. I watched him through the narrow pane as he pulled his hood up and melted into the midnight city like a secret.

I told myself that was the end, which is exactly how beginnings like to be treated.

—

Chan

He didn’t believe in omens. He believed in drafts and deadlines and the way songs hide under the floorboards until you learn how to listen. Still, he wore the memory of her like a fresh bruise on the inside of his elbow—a place no one sees unless you roll up your sleeves.

Back upstairs, the studio air was warm with stale hope and coffee. The boys were fussing with a synth patch that wouldn’t behave. He slid his headphones on, eyes on the screen, ears on the room, mind on the lobby.

“Where’d you disappear to?” Jisung asked around a mouthful of crisps.

“Lobby,” Chan said, which was true and not enough.

Minho squinted. “You get rained on?”

“Hydrated,” Chan said, because he could dodge like anyone raised on schedules and expectations. “What’ve you got?”

They had a chorus that wanted to be bigger and a verse that didn’t know how to get out of its own way. He stretched the session open on the monitor, fingers already moving. Work is a good lie, a holy delay.

But then he heard it—the cadence of the way she’d said I’ll drip respectfully in this corner. The dry humor of it. The way she carved a pocket of warmth out of a fluorescent lobby. He imagined that voice on a late-night interlude, unadorned, holding up the scaffolding of a song. He shook his head like you shake off a dream.

“Hyung,” Felix said softly from the couch. “You’re somewhere else.”

“I’m exactly where I should be,” Chan said. He focused. He found the bass line’s spine and straightened it, coaxed the drums until they tucked under like a heartbeat. The room shifted from fussing to nodding. There it was—proof that you could make order from static if you were stubborn and tired enough.

Still, the rain kept tapping the window, like a question that wouldn’t leave.

On his break he texted the group chat about logistics and ate a protein bar he didn’t taste. He opened Notes, typed armful-of-dairy girl and deleted it. He typed Louize and deleted it faster. He closed his eyes and let the city’s steam blur into a pad that might one day be a song.

In the reflection on the dark monitor he saw himself looking like someone who had almost said If we were different people and swallowed it.

He didn’t believe in omens. He believed in choices. He told himself he had made one.

—

At home, I hung his presence beside my door like a coat I couldn’t quite put away. I brewed tea too strong, put it down, forgot where, found it beside my keys only when the kettle started a second time. My playlist shuffled itself into a memory palace I wasn’t ready to wander.

Sleep was a polite idea that never arrived. I lay in the quiet and counted reasons to forget him:

He was busy enough on a Tuesday night to hold a building’s heartbeat.

I didn’t belong in that world.

I didn’t have room for something that would ask more of me than I could give right now.

I added a fourth—He didn’t ask—and ignored the way my chest pushed back against it.

By 3 a.m. I gave up and did what I do when I don’t know what to do: I cleaned. The small flat softened under lamplight and lemon spray. I wiped down the kitchen tiles like confession. I pressed my palm to the window and felt the city purr.

On the counter, my dead phone was a dark coin. I plugged it in. When it blinked back to life, the screen filled with the ordinary chaos of work threads and delivery updates and a message from Michelle that said, u alive or swimming? I typed, met a man made of storm and studio lighting and didn’t send it.

I didn’t take selfies, not of this, but I caught my reflection in the black glass of the microwave: hair frizzed into a halo by the rain, eyes too awake, mouth a secret.

“I am not doing this,” I told the reflection. It looked unconvinced.

When I finally folded myself into bed, sleep came like a delivery driver who’d gotten the address wrong and decided to drop it off anyway. In that thin space right before dreams, I heard the door chime and saw a hoodie on a countertop, folded like a promise.

—

Chan

Morning makes decisions on your behalf. He ran, like he did when words were too loud, the city yawning into daylight around him. He tried to leave the lobby in the lane, on the bridge, at the traffic light. It trotted obediently at his heel.

At the studio, he opened a blank session and named it NBS_LateLobby_01 because you don’t name the thing after a person. That’s how you lose it. That’s how you risk it.

He built a bed of soft percussion like rain against glass, let synths bloom and recede like passing headlights. He kept the drums close to the chest. He left space—negative, aching space—for a voice that might never arrive.

Halfway through the morning, he paused and looked at the hoodie draped over the back of his chair. He hadn’t worn it back; he hadn’t needed it. He checked the pocket—habit—and found nothing but the clean shape of absence.

The boys trickled in, faces in varying stages of awake. Coffee appeared. The room took its breath.

“Hey,” Seungmin said, casual, fatal. “Who’s NBS_LateLobby_01?”

“No one,” Chan said too quickly. He tried again. “Something.”

“Ohhh, something,” Jisung sing-songed, because friends can smell blood in the water. “Is something five foot seven, rain-slick, and in possession of very large milk responsibilities?”

Chan didn’t look up from the screen. “Finish the bridge.”

They did, because work is church and he was still the one holding the keys. But under the chords there was a ghost of a laugh that sounded like a woman choosing joy while soaked to the skin.

He didn’t believe in omens.

He looped the track. He listened to the empty space and thought, unhelpfully, about a chalkboard menu and a pair of eyes that looked like staying and leaving at the same time.

There are a thousand ways to not call a person. He picked all of them.

—

Daylight turned the café into a living thing. We lifted chairs, rolled pastry into patience, set out saucers like a ceremony. I wrote today’s special: maple toast, extra napkins for your feelings on the chalkboard because it made us smile. Because some days you have to admit what the food is for.

Mid-morning, a courier dropped a small box at the back door—no return label, no sender. Inside, wrapped in tissue, was a neat stack of compostable cup sleeves printed with the words borrowed quiet and a tiny waveform, like the outline of a heartbeat.

No note.

I ran my finger along the waveform, felt silly, felt seen. I set the sleeves on the counter and told the team, “a friend made these.” The lie tasted sweet and careful.

When the lull hit, the room went soft around the edges. I wiped the counter, then wiped it again. In the thick of nothing, the bell over the door shivered. I turned with a smile I hadn’t decided to wear yet.

It wasn’t him.

Of course it wasn’t. My heart learned something about gravity, and my mouth learned something about customer service.

But half an hour later, when I went to restock the milk, I found a folded hoodie on the shelf I never used, a note tucked into the cuff like a secret.

Thanks for the shelter. — C

I pressed the paper to my palm and felt it like a pulse.

“Okay,” I said to the stainless steel, to the humming fridge, to the quiet that wasn’t empty anymore. “Okay.”

I didn’t believe in omens either. I believed in openings.

Here we go guys, @skzusos I'm sorry.......

Anyway, this is the finale, and the heartbreak, I actually cried writing this.....

Themes: Angst, Mental Health, Spirals, Sadness

W/C : 12K

The hallway felt like a tightrope, with every step you took threatening to send you spiraling. The air was cold now, suffocatingly so, despite the warmth of the building, and each breath you took felt like it was being ripped from your lungs. You couldn’t even look at Seungmin anymore, not with the truth hanging between you like a shadow, and the realization that everything had changed.

He stood there, his face pale, lips trembling, but it wasn’t anger that twisted his expression. It was disbelief. Pain. A grief that was raw and unfiltered.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was hoarse, shaking as though he was struggling to keep his composure. His fists clenched at his sides, his body rigid, but you could see the pain in his eyes. It was like everything had just crumbled around him, and all he could do was stand there, staring at the reality that had been hidden from him for so long.

The words cut through you like a knife, sharper than anything he could have said before. You had prepared yourself for anger, for accusations, but not this. Not the way his voice cracked with raw emotion, the way he was looking at you as though you had just destroyed him with the truth.

“I... I didn’t want this,” you whispered, feeling your chest tighten. The tears you had been holding back for so long finally began to fall, unstoppable. “I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

He looked at you like you had just shattered everything he thought he knew. His eyes flicked to the ground, fists still trembling, but there was no rage anymore. Just heartbreak.

“I didn’t even know you were pregnant,” he said, his voice trembling, though his words were quieter now. He stared at you like he was seeing you for the first time, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “We... we barely knew each other. That night was... a mistake. I didn’t even know you after that. And now... now I find out you’ve been carrying my child for months?”

You flinched, the sting of his words cutting deeper than you had expected. But he wasn’t wrong. The truth had come out in the most unexpected, painful way possible.

“I didn’t want to drag you into this,” you said, your voice breaking. “I didn’t want you to have to carry this... this burden. I thought if I kept it hidden, if I kept it to myself, maybe it wouldn’t have to be your problem.” You swallowed, tears blurring your vision. “I never expected you to come back into my life, Seungmin. I never thought you'd be... here.”

His gaze softened for a moment, but then it hardened again. He took a step closer, his face inches from yours now, the pain so evident in his eyes that it made your heart ache.

“You should have told me,” he said, his voice trembling. “You should have told me then. I would’ve been there. I would’ve... I could’ve helped you, both of you. I could’ve been there, but now... now it’s like everything’s too late.”

He looked away, running a hand through his hair in frustration. The tears that had been building up in his eyes finally fell, but they didn’t have the relief of release—only the sorrow of regret. “I should’ve known. I should’ve been there for you, for him, from the beginning.”

You stepped back, your heart breaking all over again as you watched him crumble, just like you had. But there was no going back now. There was no rewind to undo the damage, no way to unhear the things that had been said.

“I thought I could protect you,” you whispered, shaking your head. “I thought if I carried this alone, maybe it would be easier. For you. For everyone.”

Seungmin’s hands balled into fists at his sides again, his body trembling with the force of it. “You think that protects me? Keeping me in the dark like this? You think I’m some kind of stranger?” His voice broke, and this time, he didn’t try to hide it. His eyes were red-rimmed, the pain and betrayal raw on his face. “You’ve stolen everything from me. Eleven months. Eleven months I could’ve been there for him. Eleven months I could’ve been a father... and you’ve stolen that. You’ve taken my time away from me.”

Each word hit you harder than the last. You wanted to tell him that you never meant for this to happen. You wanted to explain that it wasn’t about hiding him, about keeping him away from Seungmin. It was about protecting him from the fallout of your choices, of your mistakes. But in the end, you had failed in every way possible.

“I was terrified, Seungmin,” you said, the words coming out in gasps. “Terrified of losing you. Terrified of what this could do to you, to me. To us. I thought if I kept him hidden, kept the truth hidden, I could keep you safe. I could keep him safe.” Your voice broke on the last word.

But Seungmin wasn’t listening anymore. He shook his head, backing away from you, his face a mask of anguish and disbelief. “And now, I’m the one who’s been kept in the dark. You thought you were protecting me, but all you’ve done is ruin everything. I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

The words hit you like a blow to the chest. It wasn’t the anger anymore, not really—it was the realization that he could never look at you the same way again. That everything you had built, even this fragile connection, had been shattered beyond repair.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words escaping from you like air leaking from a balloon. “I’m so sorry.”

But Seungmin didn’t hear you. Or maybe he couldn’t. He was already backing away, his hands raised in defeat. “I can’t do this, (Y/N). I can’t do this with you. Not after everything. Not after what you’ve kept from me.” He turned toward the door, his voice softer now, but the hurt still there. “I can’t be a part of this. Not anymore.”

And with that, he was gone. The door slammed behind him, leaving you alone in the silence of your own making, with the broken pieces of what could have been.

And you knew, in that moment, it was over.

There was no going back.

The silence that followed Seungmin’s departure was almost suffocating. The weight of his words lingered in the air, suffocating every breath you tried to take. You stood there in the dim light of the hallway, your hands shaking, your chest tight with the heavy burden of everything that had just been said.

You barely heard the door to the apartment open, the shuffle of footsteps soft against the hardwood floor. It wasn’t until a voice, low and careful, cut through the stillness that you finally lifted your head.

“(Y/N)?”

It was Chan. His voice, usually so steady, was now laced with the same confusion and grief that seemed to hang in the air. You didn’t turn around. You couldn’t. The last thing you wanted was for anyone to see you like this.

Chan stepped closer, his presence a quiet comfort, but his cautious steps revealed that even he didn’t know how to approach you anymore. He was still processing the storm of revelations, still trying to make sense of everything that had just unfolded. But he wasn’t leaving you alone. Not like Seungmin.

“You okay?” His words were soft, tentative. But you could hear the weight of them—he wasn’t asking if you were fine anymore. He was asking if you could even breathe.

You shook your head, but the words you wanted to say stuck in your throat, lodged in the back of your mouth, too heavy to escape. Instead, you just took a shuddering breath, unwilling to face him, unwilling to face anyone right now.

Chan didn’t press. He just stood there, waiting, like he always did. But this time, there was a hesitation in his stance that wasn’t there before. He was waiting for you to say something, to let him in, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t let anyone in. Not now. Not after everything that had just happened.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of silence, Chan took a careful step forward, his voice softer than before. “I’m here if you want to talk.”

You flinched at the offer. The softness of it, the understanding, it was too much. It was too much to accept, too much to bear. You didn’t want anyone’s comfort. Not now. Not when you could barely stand the weight of your own guilt.

“I don’t want your comfort,” you said, the words harsh, more biting than you intended. You didn’t look at him, couldn’t. “I don’t want anyone’s pity. I don’t need anyone to feel sorry for me.”

Chan didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. He just stood there in the quiet, waiting, his eyes searching the back of your head, the rigid way you held yourself. His jaw tightened, like he was holding something back, and his voice, when it came, was quiet, almost defeated.

“I’m not pitying you,” he said, his words slow, careful. “I’m not trying to make you feel like this isn’t your fault, because I know it is. But... (Y/N), I know you’re breaking right now. I know you’re hurting. And I’m not leaving you to do it alone.”

You wanted to scream at him, to tell him that he didn’t know the depth of the pain you were feeling, the guilt that was eating you alive. But you couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come. They were too tangled up in the shame you couldn’t escape, in the fear that had haunted you for so long.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you whispered, your voice breaking at the edges. “I don’t want to feel this anymore. I don’t want to feel anything.”

Chan stayed silent for a long moment. You could feel the weight of his gaze, the way he was taking everything in, everything you were trying so desperately to push away.

Then, gently, he took a step closer, his voice low. “You don’t have to talk. But you don’t have to do this by yourself. You don’t have to shut everyone out.”

You could hear the plea in his voice, the quiet desperation to reach you, to pull you out of the dark place you were retreating to. But it was too late. You had already dug yourself too deep into that hole. You didn’t want help. You didn’t deserve it.

“I’m fine,” you said, your voice flat, detached. “Just leave me alone.”

Chan didn’t move. His face tightened, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place. But there was no anger. No frustration. Just... sadness. He took one more step toward you, until he was standing just a few inches away, but he didn’t touch you. He didn’t try to pull you out of the shell you’d closed yourself into.

“I won’t leave,” he said softly, his voice steady, like it was a promise. “I’m not leaving you like this. No matter what you say, I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

The words hung between you, heavy and real, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond. You felt the tears starting to well up again, but you didn’t want them to fall. Not now. Not in front of him. Not in front of anyone.

“Just go,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Please. I need to be alone.”

Chan hesitated, his chest rising and falling in a heavy sigh. You could see the fight in his eyes, the struggle to give you what you needed, even if it tore him apart to leave you in this state. But after a moment, he stepped back, his expression unreadable.

“I’ll be right here if you change your mind,” he said, his voice a soft promise.

You didn’t say anything, didn’t turn to watch him walk away. You just stood there in the hallway, in the silence that felt like it was swallowing you whole.

And as he left, you finally let the tears fall, not caring anymore. They didn’t bring relief, didn’t take away the weight of the guilt, but for the first time in months, you allowed yourself to feel something other than the suffocating numbness you had built around yourself.

The truth had torn everything apart. And now, all you could do was wait for the pieces to fall into place—if they ever would.

The weight of the past few days had collapsed on you in a way you didn’t know how to fight. Every step felt heavier than the last, like you were trudging through quicksand, sinking deeper into a place you couldn’t escape. You hadn’t spoken to anyone since Seungmin left the apartment, and now the silence between you and the world seemed almost unbearable. But you couldn’t face them. Not yet. Not after everything that had been said.

Your phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, the flashing notifications mocking you. Work, texts, missed calls, but you didn’t care. You didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not now. Not when everything was falling apart around you.

The one message you had to send was to Cait.

You stared at the screen for a long time before finally typing out a message that felt like the last thread of any connection to the outside world.

"Cait, I need you to watch Juni and Peter for a few days. I... I just need some time. I’m not okay. Please, can you take them?"

You hit send, and then turned the phone face down. It felt wrong, like you were abandoning everything and everyone you had fought so hard to protect. But you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything except the crushing weight of the truth you couldn’t escape.

You didn't wait for her reply.

You left. Completely. You turned off your phone, ignored the calls, and retreated from everything. From Stray Kids. From Cait. From your life. The spiral had started long before, but now it was consuming you whole.

You didn’t go to work, didn’t show up for any of your responsibilities. The days blurred together, a hazy, disconnected fog where nothing felt real. All that mattered was the noise in your head; the guilt, the fear, the confusion. Everything felt like it was collapsing, and you couldn’t stop it. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw Seungmin’s face, the pain in his eyes when he realized the truth. And you couldn’t bear it. You couldn’t bear the shame.

Meanwhile, Cait was losing sleep, trying to figure out what was going on. She had agreed to take the kids, of course, but she hadn’t expected this. It was unlike you to just drop off the radar. To disappear without explanation.

Days passed, and still, there was no word. Juni and Peter were safe with her, but the questions mounted, where were you? Why weren’t you answering her calls or texts? She knew something had to have happened, something big, but she couldn’t figure out what. And when the news started trickling back to the dorm, she couldn’t help but wonder if the truth had finally broken you.

Stray Kids were starting to worry. They hadn’t seen or heard from you either. They hadn’t known anything was wrong until Chan had shown up at the dorm, looking like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Cait,” he said, his voice tired, but steady. “We need to talk.”

She had been preparing dinner for the kids when he came in. Her smile faltered when she saw the look in his eyes, like he knew something she didn’t. Something that had clearly taken a toll on him too.

“What happened, Chan?” Cait asked, her voice a little shaky. “What’s going on? Why hasn’t (Y/N) shown up for work? Why hasn’t she... why hasn’t she contacted me?”

Chan ran a hand through his hair, his eyes heavy. “Cait, it’s... it’s about Seungmin.”

She stopped, her breath catching. “What about him?”

“Seungmin’s Peter’s dad,” Chan said quietly, his voice tight with the weight of the news. “The night in London. It wasn’t just a one-night stand. They... they’ve been hiding it all this time. (Y/N) didn’t want him to know, didn’t want anyone to know. She signed an NDA, tried to keep everything from blowing up, but now... now, Seungmin knows. And it’s breaking him.”

Cait’s heart stopped. “What?” she whispered, her hands shaking as she gripped the edge of the counter. “Seungmin... Peter’s dad?”

Chan nodded, his face drawn. “She hasn’t been okay, Cait. She’s spiraling. She hasn’t been to work. She hasn’t answered anyone. She’s gone off the grid. I’m worried about her.”

Cait’s breath hitched, her mind racing. Why wouldn’t she tell me? She had no idea how to process this, how to help when it felt like the ground was slipping out from under her too. She was supposed to be the one supporting you, but now... now everything felt like it was unraveling.

“Where is she?” Cait asked, her voice sharp with concern.

“I don’t know. I’ve tried calling, texting, but nothing. And Seungmin... He’s spitting venom about the news. He’s furious. But deep down, it’s clear that... he’s hurt. He’s hurt more than he’s letting on.”

“I don’t know how to help her,” Cait admitted, the tears brimming in her eyes. “She’s been holding all of this in for so long, and now she’s gone completely silent.”

“She’s not going to come back until she’s ready,” Chan said softly, his gaze distant. “But we can’t leave her like this. We can’t just sit back and let her sink further.”

Cait nodded, her mind racing, trying to piece together what had happened, what she could do. But all she knew was that you were slipping through her fingers, and she didn’t know how to stop it.

Back in the dorm, the others were grappling with the same heavy weight. The truth about Peter’s paternity was no longer a secret. They had all heard the news, and Seungmin’s venomous words still rang in their ears.

“He’s mine?” Seungmin had shouted in disbelief when he first learned, his hands shaking with anger and betrayal. “How the hell could she keep this from me? Why didn’t she tell me? Why was I kept in the dark?”

He had stormed off after that, but the rest of the members remained, each of them processing the news in their own way, each of them wondering how they could have missed something so significant. How could they have been so blind to the truth?

Seungmin, with his guilt and his rage, wasn’t making it any easier for anyone to help. He was angry—furious, even—but beneath that was a raw pain. The pain of lost time. Of knowing he could’ve been there for you, for Peter, but had never known. That kind of regret had no easy answers.

“Do you think she’ll come back?” Han asked, his voice a little quieter than usual. “Do you think she’ll ever let us in?”

“I don’t know,” Chan replied, his voice heavy. “But we can’t let her go through this alone.”

And as Cait stood in her kitchen, staring at her phone, the tears finally spilled over. You were still out there, slipping away from everyone who cared. And the fear of losing you, of not being able to pull you back, was growing with every passing moment.

She had to find a way to get through to you. Because if she didn’t, she feared you might never return.

Cait sat at the kitchen table, her phone pressed against her ear as she listened to Seungmin’s voice on the other end. His words were sharp, each one dripping with venom, and she could feel the anger radiating from him even through the phone.

“I can’t believe she did this,” Seungmin spat, his voice cold and bitter. “She kept this from me, from all of us. How could she hide something like this? I’ve spent months being the fool, thinking everything was fine—and now I find out that Peter—my son—is a secret she’s been carrying all along?”

Cait felt her stomach churn as she leaned back against the chair, trying to steady herself. Seungmin’s words were like daggers aimed straight at the heart, but she wasn’t going to let him continue like this. She wouldn’t let him tear down someone she considered family, even if it meant confronting the fury in his voice.

“Seungmin,” Cait said, her voice sharp, cutting through his tirade. “That’s enough. You don’t get to talk about her like that. You don’t get to tear her apart just because you’re angry and hurt. Yes, she kept the truth from you. But you have no idea what she’s been through. You have no idea what she’s had to carry for the past year.”

There was a long silence on the other end, and Cait could hear Seungmin’s sharp breaths as he processed her words. She could almost feel the tension building, the silent storm brewing before it erupted again. But Cait wouldn’t back down. Not now. Not when Seungmin’s anger was clouding his ability to see the bigger picture.

“I know you’re hurt, Seungmin,” Cait continued, her voice softening slightly, “but you have to understand something. You were never supposed to know. And I—” Cait paused, her throat tightening with the words she knew she had to say. “I didn’t even know you were Peter’s father until now. No one did. She kept it to herself for a reason.”

Seungmin scoffed, his voice dripping with disbelief. “What are you talking about? You didn’t know?”

“No,” Cait said firmly. “I didn’t know. She never told anyone, Seungmin. Not even me.” She took a deep breath before continuing, feeling the weight of her next words. “You have to understand. She’s not some... cold-hearted woman who wanted to hurt you. She did this to protect you. To protect Peter. And herself.”

Seungmin’s voice faltered for just a moment, but the anger was still there, simmering under the surface. “She should’ve trusted me. She should’ve told me. I would’ve been there for them.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Cait snapped, her patience wearing thin. “She was protecting you. You think this was easy for her? You think I wanted to push her into this? I pushed her to move to Seoul because I thought it would be better for her—better for all of us. But look at what happened.” Cait’s voice dropped to a whisper, filled with guilt. “I didn’t know what she’d been carrying. I didn’t know she was hiding Peter from everyone—especially you.”

Seungmin was silent for a long time, and Cait could almost feel the weight of her words sinking in. But she wasn’t done. She needed to make him understand. She needed him to see that everything that had happened wasn’t just about betrayal—it was about survival.

“You’re not the only one who’s been hurt in this,” Cait said quietly, her voice shaking with emotion. “You think this is just about you? She’s been carrying this guilt for months, not knowing how to tell you. Not knowing what to do. But you want to tear her down? You want to blame her for everything? She’s been living with this weight for so long, Seungmin. And now you want to add more guilt to it? It’s not fair.”

Another long pause. Cait could feel Seungmin on the other end, the tension palpable as he processed her words.

“I... I don’t know what to say,” Seungmin admitted, his voice quieter now. “I don’t know what to do with all of this. It’s too much.”

Cait leaned her forehead against the cool surface of the table, letting out a long breath. “I know it is. But you need to understand something. She’s not just some... random woman who lied to you. She’s someone who’s been through more than you know. You are not the only one who’s suffering from this, Seungmin.”

She paused, her thoughts swirling with the burden of everything she knew. She had pushed you to take the leap to Seoul, to start fresh, to leave behind the life you had been stuck in. But she never realized how deep the fear ran, how much you had been carrying all on your own.

“I didn’t know what she was going through,” Cait said softly, almost to herself. “I didn’t know how hard it was for her to hide Peter from you... from everyone. But I pushed her. I told her it would be okay to take this step, to be part of something bigger. And now I see what I’ve done... how I contributed to everything falling apart.”

Seungmin’s voice came through, softer now, but filled with the weight of his confusion. “So, you’re saying I’m supposed to... just understand? Just forget everything and let it go?”

“No,” Cait said, her voice firm again. “I’m not saying that. But I’m asking you to understand the why behind everything. I’m asking you to understand that this wasn’t about hurting you. This was about survival. And I... I think we all need to stop and look at everything that’s happened here before we start blaming each other.”

She let the silence linger for a moment before she finally spoke again. “I just wanted you to know. That’s all. She doesn’t deserve the venom you’re throwing at her, Seungmin. Not now.”

Seungmin was silent for a long time, the weight of her words still settling. But Cait knew that things couldn’t go back to the way they were. Not yet. There was too much pain, too much broken trust, and too many unspoken words to fix overnight. But maybe... maybe, just maybe, understanding could be the first step.

“You should talk to her,” Cait said quietly. “She’s not as strong as you think she is. She’s barely holding it together.”

Seungmin’s voice was barely a whisper, but it still carried the weight of everything he was feeling. “I’ll try. I don’t know if she’ll let me... but I’ll try.”

Cait ended the call, her heart heavy. She knew that the road ahead would be painful, for all of them—but she couldn’t fix it for them. She could only hope that somewhere along the way, there would be a chance to rebuild what had been broken.

But for now, all she could do was watch over the kids, waiting, hoping, and praying that somehow, someway, you would find your way back.

Seungmin had spent the past few days in a haze of frustration and disbelief. The weight of the truth, the anger, the betrayal, it had all swirled into a mess he couldn’t escape. But something else, too, gnawed at him. The realization that you were missing, that you had gone off the grid, didn’t sit right with him.

He couldn’t stay still. Not when you were out there, somewhere, drowning in whatever it was that had pushed you to shut everyone out. His heart twisted at the thought. He knew how much you hated the idea of being alone, how much you fought to protect your walls, but even then, this, this was different.

Every time he tried calling, you didn’t answer. Every text he sent was met with silence. Even the others had given up trying to get through. So, he did what he had to do. He searched.

The night he left the dorm, he didn’t say where he was going. He didn’t need to. He had a plan in his mind—he would search every street, every place you could possibly be. He started with the apartment complex, the place where you’d lived before everything fell apart. No one had seen you. No one knew where you had gone. The manager had confirmed you hadn’t checked out or moved out, but there was no sign of you.

Next, he searched through the cafes you used to frequent, the little bookstores you liked to wander through. He even went to the grocery store where he remembered you picking up your favorite brand of tea, hoping to see a trace of you. But it was the same story everywhere—empty, desolate. No one knew where you were.

Hours turned into days, and his frustration grew with each dead end. He couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t quiet the nagging fear that gnawed at his gut. Where had you gone? What had happened to make you disappear like this?

Back at the dorm, the boys were starting to get worried, too. They had all seen how the situation was affecting Seungmin, and though they had tried to reach out to you in their own ways, none of them had been able to make contact. Chan had called Cait, who was doing everything she could to keep the kids grounded, but even she was starting to crack under the strain.

“It’s been days, man,” Han said softly, breaking the silence one evening as the group gathered in the dorm. “She’s not answering. She’s gone off the grid. Have you tried calling her family? Maybe they know something.”

Seungmin shook his head, exhaustion evident in every line of his face. “I can’t. No one knows anything. I’ve checked everywhere. All the places she used to go... nothing. She’s gone.”

“I don’t think she’s even in Seoul anymore,” Felix added, his voice gentle but filled with uncertainty. “Maybe... maybe she left the country? It’s possible, right? Maybe she’s with family?”

Seungmin clenched his fists, the thought of you being that far away, completely unreachable, tearing at his insides. “No,” he said quietly, his voice filled with something deep, a quiet certainty he didn’t understand himself. “She wouldn’t leave the kids. Not for something like this. She wouldn’t go that far.”

The others exchanged confused glances, but none of them spoke up. Seungmin’s mind was racing, and deep down, he knew you weren’t that far away. He knew you wouldn’t run off to some distant place, away from Peter and Juni. The one thing that kept you tethered to this world, the one thing you had never let go of, was them.

“Where would she go then?” Chan asked, his voice hesitant. “She hasn’t contacted anyone. She hasn’t shown up for work. We’re running out of options.”

Seungmin shook his head, feeling the weight of the worry pressing against him. “I don’t care if she’s out of the country or if she’s hiding in some dark corner of Seoul. I know she’s not too far. She wouldn’t leave the kids.”

Felix gave him a quiet, understanding look. “So what are you going to do now?”

“I’m not stopping until I find her,” Seungmin said firmly, determination flooding his veins. “She’s out there somewhere, and I’m going to find her.”

The others didn’t argue. They all knew how deeply Seungmin cared, how much he had already sacrificed for the truth to come to light, even if it hurt. But now, with the weight of the past few days pushing him to the edge, it was clear he wasn’t going to stop until you were found.

“I’m going to start from scratch,” he added, his voice steely. “I’m going to hit every place again. Every street, every place she could be hiding. I’ll find her.”

As Seungmin left the dorm once again, his heart raced with determination. He wasn’t going to let you slip through the cracks. He wasn’t going to let this broken silence define what had been what could still be between you.

There was still so much that needed to be said, so much to untangle. But before any of that could happen, he had to find you.

Seungmin hadn’t stopped searching. Days blurred into nights, and the exhaustion was starting to weigh on him more heavily than he would admit. He couldn’t sit still. He couldn’t rest. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you, saw the pain in your eyes when the truth was revealed. It haunted him, the idea that you were somewhere, hurting alone, trying to make sense of the same mess they were all trapped in.

That night, after another round of failed searches another day of hitting dead ends, Seungmin returned to the dorm. His body felt heavy, like it was made of stone, but his mind wouldn’t let him rest. He had been to every place he thought you might be, asked everyone who might have seen you, and still, there was no sign. It was like you had vanished into thin air.

When he opened the door, the sound of a deep, ominous voice greeted him. The others were gathered in the living room, but he couldn’t tell exactly what was happening at first. It wasn’t until he got closer that he saw Han and Changbin sitting on the couch, their attention fixed on the screen.

“True crime?” Seungmin muttered, standing in the doorway.

Changbin glanced up, his eyes a little wide. “Yeah, it's actually pretty interesting. You should join us, Seungmin. It's about people vanishing without a trace...”

“Not in the mood,” Seungmin muttered, tossing his jacket on the chair as he flopped down on the couch. His eyes briefly flicked to the TV, catching a glimpse of the woman on screen—a missing person, her story being told in dramatic detail. The investigative tone of the documentary struck a chord, but not in the way he expected.

It hit him like a wave.

He hadn’t even considered hospitals.

His chest tightened as the realization set in. You had been under such immense stress, and with everything falling apart so quickly, he could see it now. If you had hurt yourself in any way, if you had sought refuge somewhere... there was a chance, just a chance, that you’d ended up at a hospital.

Seungmin’s heart pounded in his chest, the thought of you in pain pushing everything else aside. Without a word, he stood up abruptly, startling the others.

“I need to check the hospitals,” he said, his voice taut with urgency. “I’ll be back.”

Without waiting for any response, he grabbed his jacket again and was out the door, determination flooding his every step.

Back at Cait’s apartment, things weren’t any better. Peter and Juni were settled into a routine, but the air was thick with unanswered questions. Juni had become increasingly curious about where you were. They missed you—no one could deny that.

Every day, Juni would tug at Cait’s sleeve, asking the same question.

“When is mummy coming home?”

Each time, Cait would force a smile, crouch down to their level, and try to distract them with something else. But inside, the weight of the situation was starting to suffocate her.

She had pushed you to come to Seoul. She had encouraged you to take a fresh start, to leave behind the pain of the past and step into something better. But now, everything felt broken. The truth had come out, and Seungmin was furious. You were lost. And Cait... Cait didn’t know how to fix it. She hadn’t known the full extent of the pain you were carrying. She hadn’t realized the burden of the secret you were hiding, of the guilt that weighed you down.

Juni tugged at her arm again, looking up at her with big, innocent eyes. “Why doesn’t mummy come back, Cait? I miss her.”

Cait’s heart cracked as she held back tears. “I know, sweetie,” she said, her voice wavering. “We all miss her. But... she just needs some time to feel better. She’ll come back when she’s ready.”

But even as she said the words, Cait knew they were a lie. You weren’t just taking time for yourself. You were lost; physically, emotionally, mentally. You were drowning in it, and Cait had no idea how to pull you back from the depths.

The guilt, the weight of her role in all of this, was suffocating her. She should’ve seen it, should’ve realized that pushing you into this new life, without giving you a chance to heal from everything that had come before, was more than you could handle. She had only made things worse. And now, every time she saw the kids' faces, especially Juni’s, she could feel that weight bearing down on her.

“Cait?” I.N’s voice from the doorway pulled her from her thoughts.

She turned to him, her eyes filled with silent apologies. “I don’t know what to do, I.N. I don’t know where she is, and I’m failing them both. I can’t even give them the answers they need.”

I.N moved into the room, his presence steady and grounding. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at her with understanding. He knew how much Cait carried how much she cared for you, for the kids. But there was no easy way to take away her guilt.

“I think we should try talking to Seungmin,” I.N suggested. “Maybe we can help him, and he can help us figure out where (Y/N) is. We’re all in this together.”

Cait nodded, the exhaustion clear in her eyes. She wasn’t ready to admit that she had no idea where to even start looking for you. But maybe together, they could at least give it a shot.

Seungmin drove from hospital to hospital, his hands tight on the wheel. He had been to all the major ones in Seoul by now, checking every name, every possible lead. But the hours stretched on, and still, no sign of you.

He felt like he was running in circles, chasing something that kept slipping out of his reach.

His phone buzzed as he sat in the parking lot of the last hospital on his list. It was a message from Chan.

“Still no luck?”

Seungmin sighed deeply, his thumb hovering over the phone for a long moment before typing back.

“Nothing. I’m running out of places to look.”

His finger hovered over the keyboard as another thought struck him, one that made his heart stop for a beat. What if you hadn’t gone to a hospital? What if you were still out there, hiding in plain sight, just waiting for him to find you?

But a part of him knew, you wouldn’t leave the kids. You wouldn’t go that far. He had to hold on to that hope, because if he didn’t, he didn’t know what was left.

Seungmin sat in the hospital parking lot, his heart pounding in his chest. His eyes flickered from his phone to the glowing lights of the building in front of him. It felt like he was running out of options, like the world was closing in on him, and there was no escape from the suffocating weight of his search.

He had been to nearly every hospital in Seoul. The feeling of disappointment was starting to carve deep lines into his resolve. But he couldn’t give up. He wouldn’t. You needed him, whether you knew it or not.

As he pulled his car into a spot near the entrance of the last hospital on his list, he hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath. He was exhausted, mentally and physically drained from days of searching. The lack of sleep, the lack of answers, it was all taking its toll.

But he had to keep moving forward. For you.

His phone buzzed again, and it was a message from Cait.

"Still nothing? We’re all worried. Please let us know what’s going on."

Seungmin stared at the message, his heart sinking. I will find her, he typed back, trying to steady his shaking hands. I won’t stop. I promise.

With a final glance at the message, he turned off the engine, locking the car behind him and walking toward the entrance of the hospital. The sterile scent of antiseptic hit him as he stepped inside. The warm buzz of fluorescent lights overhead did nothing to comfort him. The reception desk was unmanned, and a brief glance at the quiet halls only intensified the gnawing sense of despair inside him.

He walked from room to room, checking names on the hospital boards, hoping that someone, anyone, had seen you.

You had come here for one reason: to escape. To disappear from the world you had failed to protect. You didn’t want to be found, didn’t want to face the wreckage of your life. But even now, as the weight of your mind threatened to crush you, the one thing you couldn’t escape was the image of Peter’s face, the soft, trusting look in his eyes. And Juni, their innocent questions, their constant need to understand where you had gone.

You had never wanted this. Never wanted to fall so deeply into yourself that you couldn’t claw your way out.

The hospital room felt suffocatingly sterile. You barely registered the IV drip in your arm or the faint beeping of the machines around you. You weren’t supposed to be here. You should’ve been somewhere else, somewhere that wasn’t wrapped in shame and guilt. But your body, your mind—they couldn’t keep going.

You clutched the plush bunny in your hands tightly, a gift from Juni, one of the soft, comforting toys they refused to sleep without. You hadn’t let go of it since you found it under your bed, the fur worn with time but still familiar. Holding it felt like holding onto something you had lost something that felt like home.

A knock at the door startled you from your thoughts, and your heart skipped a beat as you caught a glimpse of the figure standing in the doorway.

Seungmin.

Your breath caught in your throat. He was here. You hadn’t expected this. You hadn’t expected anyone to find you.

You stared at him, your mind a blur of conflicting emotions. You wanted to pull away, to hide further into the shadows. But you couldn’t. Something in his eyes something broken, something familiar told you that he wasn’t going to leave, not this time.

Seungmin stood in the doorway, eyes wide, searching for something in your face, something that would tell him you were okay. But he could see the brokenness there, the emptiness in your eyes, the haunted look that had replaced the warmth that once filled you.

“(Y/N),” he whispered, his voice rough, raw. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair tousled from days of searching. He took a cautious step forward, but you flinched back, clutching the bunny to your chest tighter as if it could shield you from everything.

“Seungmin... please,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, shaking. “You... shouldn’t be here.”

The words broke something inside him. He had always been able to read you, always been able to see past the walls you built, but now? Now you were so far removed from the person he once knew, from the woman he had wanted to understand, that he didn’t know where to begin.

“I had to find you,” he said, taking another step, his heart racing. “You disappeared. I thought—I thought I’d lost you.”

You shook your head, still not looking at him, your eyes glued to the plush bunny. “I’m... I’m not who you think I am,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to fix anything anymore.”

Seungmin’s heart broke at the words. He could see it the way your body was coiled in on itself, the way you trembled with the weight of your own sorrow. He didn’t understand it all, but he understood enough to know that the woman in front of him wasn’t the one he had seen so full of life just months ago.

He sat down carefully on the edge of the bed, trying not to startle you. “You don’t have to fix anything, (Y/N). Not right now. We can take it one step at a time. But please, don’t do this alone.”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “I’m so sorry, Seungmin. I’m so sorry for everything. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

He reached out, his fingers trembling as he gently touched your hand, the plush bunny still gripped tightly between your fingers. His voice softened as he spoke. “You didn’t hurt me, (Y/N). You didn’t hurt anyone. We just... we got lost. All of us.”

You finally looked up at him, the emptiness in your eyes flickering with something, a glimmer of the person you once were. But it was fleeting, swallowed up quickly by the weight of everything you had been running from.

“I’m so sorry, Seungmin. I thought... I thought I was protecting you. But I’ve only made everything worse.”

He shook his head, his grip on your hand tightening. “You didn’t make anything worse. We’re here now. Together. And we’ll figure this out, one step at a time.”

You closed your eyes, the tears falling freely now as he gently wiped them away. The brokenness was still there, the fear, the guilt. But for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel completely alone.

You didn’t know what would happen next, didn’t know if you could ever make things right. But as Seungmin sat there beside you, you realized that maybe—just maybe—there was a chance. A chance to heal, to rebuild.

And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe that maybe you weren’t too far gone.

Seungmin’s heart pounded with a mixture of relief and exhaustion as he stepped into the dorm. It had been days of searching, every moment consumed with the thought of finding you—his mind and body had been running on fumes. But now, he had found you, and though you were broken, at least you were safe.

He made his way into the living room, his eyes locking with Chan’s. The others were all there, Han, Minho, Felix, sitting together, their faces filled with concern. Seungmin’s own expression was tired, drawn, but there was a flicker of something more in his eyes. He had news, and it wasn’t a moment longer he could wait to share it.

“Seungmin,” Chan said softly, standing to approach him. “Where is she? Is she okay?”

Seungmin let out a deep breath, finally allowing himself to speak. “She’s been found,” he said, his voice low but steady. “(Y/N) is safe. She’s at the hospital. But it’s bad. She’s... not okay. Mentally, emotionally—she’s shattered.”

The boys all exchanged glances. Han was the first to speak, his voice tentative. “What happened? What’s going on with her? Is she—”

“She’s not herself,” Seungmin interrupted, his voice heavy. “I don’t even know where to begin. But... Peter, he’s been crying for her. He doesn’t understand where she’s gone. And Juni... Juni keeps asking when ‘mummy’ will come back. (Y/N)’s carrying all of this guilt and fear. But... I’m stepping up. I’m going to be there for Peter, and for Juni, too. She’s not doing this alone anymore.”

Minho stepped forward, his face full of concern. “What do you need from us, Seungmin? How can we help?”

“I’m making sure Peter’s okay,” Seungmin said firmly. “But I need to get her therapy. She’s not going to heal if she tries to go through this on her own. I need her to get the help she deserves.” He paused, looking each of them in the eye, his voice hardening with conviction. “She’s not going through this alone. I won’t let her.”

Chan, who had been silent until now, nodded slowly. “I’ll call Cait,” he said, his voice steady but filled with concern. “We need to make sure she knows what’s going on. (Y/N) needs us now. We’ll all help however we can.”

“Whatever it takes,” Minho said, his voice firm. “We’re all here for her. And for you, Seungmin.”

Han nodded, looking at Seungmin with a mix of sadness and support. “You’re not alone in this, man. We’re family. We’ve got this.”

Seungmin looked around at his friends, his heart swelling with gratitude. For the first time in days, he felt a flicker of hope, they weren’t going to let (Y/N) go through this alone.

Cait sat at her kitchen table, the weight of the past days pressing down on her chest. She hadn’t heard from Seungmin since he went looking for you, and the gnawing anxiety in her gut was only getting worse. She kept thinking about how she had pushed you to start fresh in Seoul—pushed you to move on from everything, without knowing how much pain you had been hiding.

She looked at Juni, who was playing quietly in the corner with a toy, but even the little girl’s innocence couldn’t distract her from the questions that kept circling in her mind. Juni had been asking the same question every day.

“When’s mummy coming back, Cait?”

It broke Cait’s heart each time. She didn’t know how to explain to the child that you weren’t just gone, you were broken, lost in a spiral of guilt and pain, somewhere between needing help and feeling like you couldn’t reach out. She couldn’t explain it in a way that would make sense to a four-year-old.

Juni walked up to her, her eyes wide with hope. “Mummy’s coming back soon, right?”

Cait crouched down, forcing a smile she didn’t feel. She wanted to tell Juni everything would be fine, that you would be back and everything would return to normal. But she couldn’t lie to her. Not anymore.

“Yeah, sweetie,” Cait said softly, her voice shaking. “She’s just... she’s taking a little time to rest. She’ll be back soon. We just have to be patient.”

But Cait could feel the weight of the lie in her words. She had no idea when, or if, you would come back. And she hated herself for not seeing the signs sooner.

Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she saw Seungmin’s name flash across the screen. She quickly answered.

“Seungmin,” she said, her voice trembling. “Is she okay? Where is she? What’s going on?”

“She’s been found,” Seungmin said, his voice low and filled with both relief and concern. “She’s at the hospital. She’s alive. But she’s... mentally and emotionally broken, Cait. I don’t even know how to explain it. I’ve made sure Peter’s okay, but she’s—” He paused, taking a deep breath. “She’s not doing this alone anymore. I’m stepping up for Peter. And for Juni, too. I’m going to make sure (Y/N) gets the therapy she needs. I’m not letting her carry this burden anymore. We’ll get her through this.”

Cait’s heart ached, a mixture of relief and guilt flooding through her. “Seungmin, I didn’t— I didn’t know how much she was carrying. I pushed her to move here. I thought it would be better for her, but I didn’t see how much she was hiding... how much she was trying to carry alone.” Her voice cracked. “I should’ve known. I should’ve done more.”

“You weren’t the only one, Cait,” Seungmin said softly. “We all missed the signs. But right now, we need to focus on getting her the help she needs. We’re all in this together, okay?”

Cait nodded, her tears falling freely now. “You’re right. I’ll do whatever I can to help her.”

Seungmin stood at the door of the hospital room, looking in at you, curled on the bed, clutching the plush bunny Juni had given you, as if it was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. Your eyes were hollow, your face pale, but there was a flicker of recognition when you saw him.

Peter, in his tiny bassinet by the window, let out a small cry, but it wasn’t as loud or desperate as it had been earlier. Seungmin’s heart tightened at the thought of the pain you must have been in to leave him behind, to shut yourself off from everything.

He stepped into the room cautiously, sitting beside the bed, his presence gentle but unwavering.

“I’m here,” he said softly, his voice just above a whisper. “And I’m not leaving. You’re not alone anymore.”

You didn’t respond at first, still clutching the bunny, your fingers shaking as you held onto it for dear life. The silence was suffocating, but Seungmin didn’t pull away. He let the silence hang between you, allowing you the space to process.

“I’m going to be here for Peter,” Seungmin said after a moment. “And for Juni. I’m going to be the father they need. You don’t have to carry this alone anymore. We’re going to get through this together. But you need therapy. You need help. I can’t make you do it, but I’ll be here every step of the way.”

Your eyes flickered to his, and for the briefest moment, he saw something behind your gaze something faintly hopeful. It was enough to make him push forward, even when the weight of the situation threatened to crush him.

He reached out and gently touched your hand. “Please, (Y/N), let us help you.”

You didn’t speak, but you didn’t pull away either. And for Seungmin, that was the first step, the first real step toward healing.

Days had passed since Seungmin found you at the hospital. The first few days had been filled with tension, confusion, and raw emotion. You had barely spoken, your body trapped in a haze of fear and guilt. But Seungmin hadn’t given up on you, not once.

He had been there every day, sitting beside you in the quiet hours, never forcing you to speak, but always present. He had stayed with Peter when you couldn’t, making sure your baby boy felt loved and cared for. He had taken charge of everything; therapy appointments, managing Peter’s care, even making sure Juni felt secure, even though she still asked where her mummy was every day.

The first time you had spoken clearly to him had been after your second therapy session. You were still tentative, your voice raw and unsteady, but you had whispered a simple question: “What now?”

It had been enough. You were ready to begin the long, painful process of healing. But you wouldn’t do it alone.

It was the weekend, and you had spent most of the week adjusting to a new rhythm, with Seungmin taking the lead. He had been a rock, steady and unwavering, even when you pulled away.

The boys, Chan, Minho, Han, and the others, had been nothing but understanding, treating you like family from the moment they knew the truth. They showed up at your apartment every evening, bringing takeout, playing with Juni, and keeping the atmosphere light, but never forcing anything on you. They respected your space, your silence, and your process. Their quiet support was a balm to your broken heart.

This Saturday, you had agreed to join them for dinner. It was the first time you had left the apartment since your last therapy session. You still felt fragile, but with Seungmin beside you, and the boys gathering around, you felt a sense of safety you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in a long time.

Seungmin helped you get ready, choosing a simple sweater for you, one that made you feel comfortable. His gentle guidance in these small moments had become a lifeline. You weren’t sure when it happened, but his presence was no longer something you feared. It felt... natural. Right.

As you walked into the living room, Juni ran up to you, her small arms wrapping around your legs. “Mummy!” she squealed with delight, pulling you down to her level. You felt tears prick at your eyes, the simple act of her affection unraveling something deep inside you.

"Hey, sweet girl," you whispered, hugging her tightly.

Seungmin stood in the doorway, watching the moment with a small smile on his face. You hadn’t noticed at first, but his eyes softened as he watched you with Juni. There was something unspoken in the way he looked at you—something protective, something tender—but you didn’t know if you were ready to acknowledge it yet.

A month had passed since you first began therapy. The process wasn’t linear—there were good days and bad days. You still had moments of overwhelming sadness, where the weight of everything felt unbearable. But there were more days where you felt like you could breathe, more days when you felt hope in your heart. Seungmin had kept his promise. He hadn’t let you slip back into isolation.

The therapy sessions were helping. You had started to confront the past, the guilt, and the fear that had buried you for so long. But there was still a long road ahead. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, but with Seungmin by your side and the boys who had become like brothers there was a new sense of possibility.

Today, Seungmin was taking you to a small cafe down the street from your apartment. It was a quiet morning, and for once, you didn’t feel overwhelmed by the thought of stepping outside. You had your therapy session earlier in the day, and now, you were simply trying to enjoy the small joys in life again.

Seungmin had insisted on taking you out to breakfast just the two of you. No distractions. Just a moment of peace.

“I thought we could take Peter to the park later,” Seungmin said, his voice casual but warm as he passed you a coffee. “Get him out in the fresh air. Juni’s been asking to see him play again.”

You smiled softly, taking the coffee from him. It was a simple act, but it felt like a gesture that meant more than words. “That sounds nice,” you said, your fingers brushing his as you took the cup.

There was a small silence, comfortable, like the two of you had built something that was starting to feel more like a foundation. You glanced at him, the way he looked at you protective, caring, but with a tenderness that made your heart skip. He was always looking out for you, always keeping an eye on Peter, on Juni. It had been months since your world had fallen apart, and yet, there he was, always there.

His gaze softened as he looked at you, and you felt the weight of his unspoken words. “(Y/N),” he began, his voice low and steady, “I just... I’m glad you’re here. And I’m proud of how far you’ve come.”

You swallowed hard, the emotions swirling in your chest. You didn’t know what it was his sincerity, his unwavering support but it made your heart ache in a way that was both painful and... comforting.

“I’m trying,” you said quietly, your voice cracking. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be completely okay, but... I’m trying. With you and the others... I’m not doing it alone anymore.”

Seungmin’s lips curved upward in a soft, understanding smile. He didn’t press for more, didn’t try to fix it all with a perfect answer. Instead, he simply said, “And you don’t have to. You never have to be alone again.”

Three months had passed, and your world had slowly started to shift. The healing was gradual, but it was real. You and Seungmin had found a new rhythm, co-parenting with him had become something you never expected, something that felt like it was meant to be. Peter and Juni had become a bundle of joy in your life, and the boys were always there to support, always coming together like brothers, always providing laughter and warmth.

One evening, as the sun set and the apartment grew quiet, you found yourself on the couch with Seungmin. Juni had fallen asleep, tucked into bed, and Peter was settled beside you. You were watching a movie, but your attention kept drifting to Seungmin. There was something different in the way he looked at you now, something unspoken but real. The tenderness, the care—it was undeniable.

As the credits rolled, Seungmin shifted closer to you, his hand brushing yours on the couch. The contact was soft at first, just a gentle touch, but you felt the heat of his hand against yours. Your breath caught in your throat as you turned to face him.

“Seungmin,” you whispered, the distance between you narrowing. There was a weight in the air something that had been building between the two of you over time.

He looked at you, his eyes soft with something you couldn’t quite place. “(Y/N),” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve never... I’ve never stopped caring for you. I know things haven’t been easy, but... I want you to know that I’m here. For you. Always.”

You didn’t know what to say, but in that moment, there was nothing more that needed to be said. You reached out, your fingers brushing his hand before intertwining with his. And in that simple touch, there was a promise. A promise that no matter how far you had come, no matter how broken you had been, you didn’t have to walk this journey alone anymore.

For the first time in months, you felt the weight of everything you had been carrying begin to ease, just a little. And with Seungmin beside you, you knew there was more healing to come slowly, but surely. And for the first time in a long time, you could finally imagine what hope might feel like again.

It had been a year since everything had changed. A year since you thought you were too broken to move forward, too lost in your own guilt to even think about the future. A year since Seungmin stepped into your life with the unwavering support you hadn’t known you needed and since you found your strength again, slowly but surely.

A lot had changed since that first month. You were no longer the person you once were, hiding behind your pain, too scared to face the world. Now, the laughter of your children, Juni and Peter, filled your home every day, and with each passing moment, you felt yourself becoming whole again.

Peter was 14 months old now, a curious, bright-eyed toddler who had a mischievous smile and a knack for getting into everything. His small hands tugged at your shirt, and his wide grin lit up his face every time he saw you. His presence, a living reminder of how far you had come, filled your heart with pride and love.

Juni, now four, had blossomed into a bubbly and joyful little girl. She had spent so many months asking where "mummy" had gone, but now, she had you back. She had never once wavered in her love for you, and seeing her run through the apartment, playing with Peter, reminded you of everything you had fought for.

Seungmin had been your steady pillar through it all. He had stepped into the role of father with grace and determination, but it was more than just about Peter. It was about everything the connection that had slowly built between the two of you, the unspoken bond that had grown with time. Though you hadn’t defined anything between you two, there was no need. You knew what you had, and it was enough.

The apartment was filled with life once again. The boys; Seungmin, Chan, Minho, Han, Felix, I.N, Changbin, and Hyunjin, had all become more than just friends; they were family. They had been there for you in ways you hadn’t expected, supporting you when you couldn’t support yourself, loving your children as if they were their own. They had become the brothers you never had.

Tonight, like most weekends, they were all gathered in your living room, enjoying dinner together. Juni was running in circles, playing with Peter, while Cait sat beside you, the two of you chatting about the future, and the boys joked around. It was a picture of normalcy, a life you hadn’t thought possible.

Seungmin, sitting across from you, caught your eye and smiled. His expression had softened over time, and though there was still that quiet intensity in him, there was also a warmth, a tenderness that made your heart flutter every time he looked at you. He had been the one to pull you out of the darkness when you needed it most. And now, you could see the shift, the unspoken understanding between the two of you. Maybe it didn’t need to be said aloud yet maybe it never would but it was there. You didn’t need more than that.

"Seungmin," Cait said, interrupting your thoughts, a playful grin on her face, "how’s it feel, huh? You're practically a full-time dad now. Never thought I’d see the day."

Seungmin chuckled, a sound that was deeper than the awkward laugh you’d once heard from him months ago. "It's a lot, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. Peter's grown up so fast," he said, glancing at the baby who was happily clutching one of his toys. "I never realized how much a kid could change you until I became a father."

Juni, overhearing the conversation, came running up with Peter in her arms, her face serious as she addressed Seungmin. "Daddy, look! Peter says 'mummy' now."

Seungmin’s face lit up, pride in his eyes. "Does he now?" He reached for Peter, lifting him into his arms as the little one giggled. "That’s my boy."

You watched them, a soft smile tugging at your lips. The image of Seungmin with Peter so natural, so protective, filled you with a warmth you couldn’t put into words. But it was more than just a father with his son; it was the connection between the two of you, the way you had both grown into this new chapter of your lives, silently and without expectation.

Changbin and Hyunjin, who had been hanging out in the kitchen, came back into the living room, laughing at something that had just happened. They had both become regulars at your home, spending time with the kids, and offering support in their own ways.

"Hey, you two, get over here!" Minho called out, gesturing to them. "This is family time. No more hiding out in the kitchen."

Changbin grinned, slinging an arm around Hyunjin’s shoulders as they joined the circle of the boys, who had become more like brothers to you, and more like uncles to Juni and Peter. The easy laughter, the shared stories of days gone by, and the gentle teasing that went back and forth—it all made you feel like you had finally found your place, surrounded by people who understood, who cared.

Hyunjin sat next to you, looking at Peter with a soft smile. "I can't believe how fast he's growing," he said, ruffling Peter's hair. "It feels like just yesterday that you were holding him in your arms at the hospital."

You chuckled softly. "I know. Time really flies."

Changbin, with his usual playful energy, turned to Seungmin. "You know, man, you’ve done good. You’ve really stepped up for (Y/N) and the kids. I respect that."

Seungmin gave him a small, almost shy smile. "It wasn’t just me. Everyone here has been there for her, for Peter and Juni. We’ve all done it together."

Minho leaned back in his chair, looking between you and Seungmin. "You two make a great team," he said, his voice casual but filled with something deeper. "You’re doing what’s best for the kids, and that’s what matters. But it’s not just about that—it’s about everything you’ve been through. It’s... it’s about the family you’ve built."

The room fell quiet for a moment, the weight of Minho’s words settling in. You looked over at Seungmin, his gaze steady as he met your eyes. There was something unspoken between you two, something that had been there for months now but had never needed to be defined.

Over the past year, things had changed between you and Seungmin. There had been moments those small, quiet ones when you’d catch his gaze a little too long, or when his hand would brush yours in a crowd, or when he would hold Peter with that softness that made your heart ache.

But you hadn’t spoken about it. There was no need to rush. There were no expectations. You had both been through so much, and the idea of rushing into something new didn’t seem necessary. What mattered was the unspoken understanding between you two.

And as you sat there, surrounded by the boys who had become your support system, and Seungmin by your side, you realized that this was enough. The quiet connection, the slow growth, the gentle support, it was everything.

"Family," Chan said, his voice carrying over the table, breaking the silence. "That’s what we’ve all become. You, (Y/N), Seungmin, the kids, everyone in this room. We’re family."

You smiled, your heart full as you looked around at the people who had become your lifeline. You had finally found a place where you belonged, surrounded by people who loved you; not just for who you were, but for the journey you had taken.

So here we go guys, the finale.... I decided to post the happier version first. So when the next version is posted, you can come straight back. Also I'm not gonna lie, I'm feeling a bit like Chan here, creating two versions of the same story. Anyhoo enjoy

Themes: Chaos, Slight Angst

W/C - 6K

The question hangs between you like smoke.

“Where do we go from here?”

The dorm door clicks shut behind you, leaving only the hush of the apartment hallway. It smells faintly of laundry detergent and the ramen someone boiled in a neighbor’s kitchen. A single light hums above you, buzzing softly.

You drop onto the narrow bench along the wall, blanket still clutched around your shoulders. Seungmin stands opposite, his back against the closed door as if he’s holding it shut with the weight of his body. His fingers rake through his hair, tugging hard, his chest rising and falling unevenly.

Neither of you dares raise your voice. The others are just beyond the door—listening, not listening, pretending to give space. Felix’s whisper had been the last thing you heard before it shut: “Give them time.”

Now there’s nothing but you and him and eleven months of silence cracking open.

“I’m angry,” Seungmin says finally, the words scraping raw. “And I’m… afraid. Afraid of what I missed. Afraid of how badly I could still mess this up.”

You nod, because the truth deserves a nod even when it hurts. “I’m afraid too.”

His eyes find yours, brittle and searching. Then, almost helplessly, he blurts, “What does he like? Peter. What makes him stop crying? What makes him… feel safe?”

The question shatters you.

“He loves skin-to-skin,” you say, your voice breaking into a shaky smile. “Hates the dark—always wants a nightlight. He makes this little squeak when he’s hungry, like a kitten. He falls asleep if you walk slowly with him against your chest. And—” You swallow. “He’s just started smiling. Real smiles. If you talk to him soft enough, he’ll do it.”

Seungmin’s mouth trembles, the smallest laugh escaping through grief. “Smiles already. I missed that.”

“You can have the rest,” you whisper. “All the rest.”

Your phone buzzes in your lap. A message from Cait:

Cait: Juni has turned my living room into NASA and insists their ship “screams because Peter is dramatic.” Also: they just asked Jeongin if he’s my boyfriend. Send help.

A photo follows: Juni mid–blast off, Bunny clutched like a co-pilot, Peter bundled on Cait’s shoulder with wide, curious eyes, Jeongin in the background looking like a deer in headlights.

You laugh—sudden, wet, painful with relief. Seungmin leans closer without thinking, the photo tilting toward him. His thumb brushes the screen, trembling.

“He’s so small,” Seungmin whispers, staring at Peter’s round cheeks. “I missed his first smile.”

“You can have his thousandth,” you whisper. “And the thousand after that.”

Something eases in his shoulders, though his jaw stays tight. “Okay. Then maybe… can we start with something simple? Feedings, naps, what I can do. Today. Tomorrow.” He gives a shaky smile. “I know it’s not romantic.”

“It’s perfect,” you say too quickly. “Practical is safe.”

He digs a pencil stub and receipt from his pocket, bracing it against his knee. He writes Peter’s name slowly, reverently.

“Every three hours,” you murmur. “He takes a bottle best if you keep it warm. He likes being held upright—always upright. Hates cold wipes. Loves when you hum. He’s still learning to hold his head, so you have to—”

“I know,” Seungmin says gently, finishing for you. His throat bobs. “Support the neck.”

Your tears burn hot. “Yes.”

The dorm door cracks open. Changbin pokes his head out, balancing a tray like a waiter. “I brought carbohydrates,” he whispers. “And also carbohydrates.” He sets down bread rolls and something that might legally be cake. “Sorry. Emotional support bakery.”

“Thanks, Binnie,” you manage, voice wrecked.

He nods, scanning both your faces, then slips back inside.

Seungmin breaks off a roll, chewing thoughtfully. “Tomorrow… can I come when they wake up? Not as anything big. Just a man on the couch who knows how to hum badly.”

Fear flutters in you, but for once it ebbs instead of rising. “Yes,” you whisper. “Come in the morning.”

Something softens in his face. “Okay.”

Your phone buzzes again.

Cait: Update: Juni has declared Jeongin my “kissy friend.” We are moving to another country tonight.

You choke on your water. Seungmin lets out a horrified laugh, the sound cracked but real. For the first time tonight, it doesn’t feel like betrayal to laugh.

The door opens a crack again. Han shuffles out, placing a tissue box shaped like a panda on the bench. The tissues poke out of its nose. He doesn’t meet your eyes. “I don’t know how to be normal,” he mutters. “But I know how to be here.” Then he backs into the doorframe, curses under his breath, and vanishes.

You and Seungmin stare at the panda nose, then at each other—until your shoulders shake with laughter you can’t hold.

When it fades, the hallway feels lighter.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me tonight,” you whisper. “I’m not ready for that. But I’m asking if we can try. Carefully. Kindly. With snacks.”

Seungmin flips the receipt over and writes your words down. Then he shows it to you.

Try. Carefully. Kindly. With snacks.

“It’s a plan,” he says, voice trembling.

“It’s a beginning,” you answer.

He hesitates, then reaches across the narrow gap. His fingers brush yours—not a claim, not a plea, just a bridge.

You take it.

Behind the door, Felix whisper-hisses, “Do we hug as a group or is that illegal?” “Illegal,” Minho mutters. “Maybe tomorrow,” Hyunjin sighs.

Chan doesn’t speak, but you can picture him sitting cross-legged against the door, guarding the silence.

Seungmin folds the receipt into his pocket like a vow. “Morning,” he says, and the word almost sounds like hope. “Let’s… go meet my son.”

You nod, finally exhaling without breaking. “Morning.”

And for tonight, in the dim hallway with laughter still clinging to the air, that’s enough.

Cait already knew she was in over her head the second Juni came tearing through her apartment like a jet engine, Bunny flapping behind them like a cape.

“Spaceship!” Juni shouted at full volume, launching themselves from the couch onto a pile of cushions they’d stacked in the middle of the floor.

“Spaceships don’t scream like that,” Cait said flatly, bouncing Peter on her hip. “They’re silent. Vacuum of space, remember?”

“This one screams,” Juni declared, wriggling happily in their pillow pile.

Peter gurgled approvingly, kicking his legs like he agreed.

Cait sighed. “Why did I agree to watch both of you again?”

“Because you love us,” came Jeongin’s voice from the kitchen.

Cait turned just in time to see him struggling with a juice carton, tongue poking out in concentration. The juice missed the cup entirely and poured straight onto the counter.

“Seriously?” Cait groaned. “You’re worse than they are.”

“I’m amazing with kids,” Jeongin said proudly, blotting the spill with a paper towel. “I’m enriching their childhood experience.”

“By flooding my kitchen?” Cait muttered.

Juni popped up from the cushions, eyes going wide. “I.N!” They bolted across the room, barreling into Jeongin’s legs. “You came!”

“Of course,” he grinned, crouching down to ruffle their hair. “Someone has to help Cait.”

“Help Cait?” Cait scoffed, shifting Peter against her shoulder. “You mean eat my snacks and encourage Juni to turn my couch into NASA.”

“They need stimulation,” Jeongin said solemnly. “Creative development.”

“Stimulation is crayons,” Cait shot back. “Not a one-way ticket to A&E.”

Peter squealed like this was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, smacking Cait’s cheek with his tiny palm.

And then Juni, with the timing of a professional comedian, tilted their head at Jeongin.

“Are you Cait’s boyfriend?”

The entire room froze.

Jeongin’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Wh—WHAT?”

Cait almost dropped Peter. “Juni—!”

“You smile at her like Daddy smiles in my books,” Juni explained sagely, clutching Bunny to their chest. “But you don’t kiss her. Yet.”

Jeongin’s face went scarlet. “I—uh—I—”

Cait buried her face in her free hand. “You’re not even four yet. How do you—”

“I’m almost four,” Juni corrected, sticking out their tongue. “That’s big.”

Peter kicked so hard he nearly launched himself out of Cait’s arms, giggling like he knew this was chaos.

Juni looked between Cait and Jeongin, unimpressed. “So, are you or not?”

There was a long, terrible pause. Then Jeongin gave the tiniest, sheepish smile. “…Yeah. I guess I am.”

Juni gasped dramatically, Bunny clutched to their chest like they’d just solved the world’s biggest mystery. “I knew it! Bunny knew it!”

Peter squealed, clapping his chubby hands.

Cait groaned into her hand. “This is not how I wanted you to find out.”

“Find out what?” Juni asked innocently. “That Cait and I.N are kissy friends?”

Cait nearly choked. Jeongin’s ears turned crimson, and he looked about two seconds away from fainting.

Meanwhile Juni, perfectly satisfied, plopped back into their spaceship cushions and yelled, “Blast off!” like nothing had happened.

And none of them had the faintest idea of the storm unraveling back at the dorms.

The knock on the dorm door came just after noon.

Cait shifted Peter higher on her shoulder, balancing the baby bag awkwardly while Juni bounced in place beside her, Bunny clutched like a talisman. Jeongin juggled a juice carton under one arm and a pack of biscuits under the other, trying to look casual and failing miserably.

When Chan opened the door, the air shifted immediately. Cait felt it before she saw it — something in the set of his jaw, the heaviness in the way he stepped aside.

“Everything okay?” she asked, cautious.

“Yeah,” Chan lied badly. His voice was warm, but too careful. “Come in.”

The apartment was quieter than usual. No music, no background chatter, no teasing laughter. Just silence that pressed at the edges. The boys lingered in corners of the living room, not quite meeting each other’s eyes. And Seungmin, Seungmin stood apart, stiff near the sofa, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

Juni, oblivious, bounded in with all the subtlety of a marching band. “Peter’s back from space!” they announced proudly, pointing at their brother. “And he’s still dramatic!”

Peter squirmed at the sudden noise, his tiny face screwing up, a soft wail bubbling out. Cait bounced him gently, patting his back. “Shhh, it’s okay. Dramatic or not, you’re safe.”

“Here, let me—” You reached for him, your arms instinctively out. But before you could, Juni stopped dead in their tracks, staring between you, Seungmin, and Peter.

“Mummy,” Juni said very seriously. “Is Seungmin Daddy now?”

The silence that followed could have shattered glass.

Jeongin dropped the biscuits. Cait almost inhaled her own breath. Every pair of eyes in the room snapped to Juni, then to you, then to Seungmin.

“Juni—” you started, but your voice cracked.

“Because Peter’s been practicing,” Juni went on, completely unaware of the grenade they’d just lobbed. “He makes the ‘da-da’ noise all the time. So it makes sense.”

Peter squeaked loudly, as if agreeing, his tiny fists batting the air.

Cait’s jaw fell open. Jeongin froze beside her, face draining of color. “Wait—what?” he blurted.

“Surprise,” Han said faintly, rubbing a hand down his face. “We, uh… found out too.”

“You—” Cait nearly dropped Peter again. “You’re his dad?” she hissed at Seungmin.

Seungmin looked like he’d been asked to solve nuclear physics on no sleep. His ears burned red, his voice rough. “…Yeah.”

Cait blinked. Then blinked again. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

Peter wailed properly this time, tiny cries filling the silence. Seungmin’s entire body stiffened, panic flickering in his eyes.

“Uh—should—should I—” he stammered, looking at you.

“Hold him,” Changbin said firmly, already shoving a muslin cloth into Seungmin’s hands like a field medic preparing a rookie. “Now. Before he explodes.”

“I can’t just—he’s so small—” Seungmin protested, frozen.

“Two months is the new fragile,” Han muttered, but he was already on his feet, hovering nervously.

Felix clapped Seungmin on the back, almost knocking him forward. “C’mon, mate. Babies can smell fear.”

“They can what?!” Seungmin yelped.

“Just take him,” you said softly, nodding toward Cait. “He’ll settle.”

Cait, still reeling, shifted Peter carefully into Seungmin’s stiff arms. For a moment, Seungmin looked like he might combust his shoulders locked, his elbows bent at impossible angles, his eyes wide.

“Support the neck!” Minho barked.

“I am supporting the neck!” Seungmin snapped, adjusting frantically.

But then—Peter hiccupped, blinked up at him, and let out the tiniest, breathy coo. His fists unclenched. His wail softened into a squeak, then a sigh, his head lolling against Seungmin’s chest.

The room stilled.

Seungmin froze completely, staring down at the baby curled against him. His expression shifted fear first, then awe, then something so raw and fragile it made your throat ache.

“He… stopped crying,” Seungmin whispered, as if afraid saying it too loud would undo it.

“Because he knows you,” you said, your own voice breaking.

Felix sniffed loudly. “I can’t cope with this, I’m gonna cry.”

Han flapped his hands at him. “Don’t cry, you’ll make me cry.”

Peter chose that exact moment to burp wetly and spit up down Seungmin’s shirt.

The spell shattered.

The boys howled with laughter. Seungmin’s face twisted in horror as he held Peter out like he’d just detonated. “Why is he leaking on me?!”

“Welcome to fatherhood,” Changbin said, deadpan, tossing him a fresh muslin.

Cait, still gaping, finally dropped onto the couch, shaking her head. “I babysit for one evening, and the world implodes.”

Jeongin, cheeks still scarlet, muttered, “I liked it better when Juni just thought I was Cait’s boyfriend.”

“You are!” Juni chirped helpfully from the pillow pile, Bunny waving like a flag. “You’re her kissy friend!”

“Juni!” Cait yelped, nearly face-planting into her hands.

Jeongin groaned. Seungmin sputtered. Peter hiccupped again, entirely unbothered.

And for the first time since the storm broke, the room filled with laughter — messy, chaotic, but real.

By evening, the dorm had shed some of its storm. The air was lighter, punctured by laughter, cluttered with toys, cushions, and crumbs.

Peter was swaddled snug in Felix’s hoodie, snoozing against your chest, tiny breaths puffing against your collarbone. Juni was spinning in circles on the rug, Bunny flying overhead like a lopsided helicopter. The boys had scattered across the living room, each playing their part in the circus.

“Uncle Han, watch this!” Juni shouted, stumbling on their fourth spin.

“I am watching!” Han cheered, then flailed when Juni toppled into his lap. “Oh my god, I caught you, I’m basically a superhero.”

“You smell like crisps,” Juni said, nose wrinkling.

“Betrayal!” Han cried. “Roasted by a toddler again!”

“Fair,” Minho muttered from the couch, camera out to capture Han’s despair.

On the floor, Hyunjin was cooing at Peter. “Look at him. He already has model vibes. Strong jawline, good cheekbones.”

“He’s two months old,” you reminded him.

“Exactly,” Hyunjin said solemnly. “Start early.”

Felix, meanwhile, was crouched by the coffee table, duct-taping spare cushions to the corners. “Baby-proofing,” he explained when Chan gave him a look. “Juni’s basically a projectile.”

“I am NOT!” Juni shouted, before climbing onto the back of the couch.

Changbin nearly had a heart attack. “Juni! Get down before—”

“Relax,” a dry voice cut in.

Everyone turned as Cait pushed through the door again, Jeongin close behind her carrying bags. With them was someone new — sharp-eyed, balanced, their expression unimpressed as they took in the scene.

“This,” Cait said flatly, “is Mylo. They helped carry supplies.”

Mylo swept their gaze around the chaos. “This isn’t childcare. This is a sitcom.”

The boys howled.

Juni gasped dramatically. “Are you my new uncle?”

“Probably not,” Mylo said, utterly serious. “But maybe.”

Juni considered this. “Okay.” Then they ran off again.

“Who even are you?” Changbin grumbled, folding his arms.

“The one who carried formula up three flights while you were busy panicking,” Mylo said smoothly.

Changbin opened his mouth, then shut it again. “…Fair.”

Cait rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath. You caught the way Jeongin brushed his hand against hers as he passed her a bottle — casual, quick, but not nearly casual enough. Cait flushed scarlet.

Han, sprawled on the floor, narrowed his eyes. “Wait—”

“Don’t,” Cait warned instantly.

“Don’t what?” Han asked innocently, grinning.

“Don’t,” Jeongin echoed, ears already red.

From your lap, Juni piped up cheerfully: “They’re kissy friends.”

Cait nearly dropped the nappy bag. Jeongin choked on air.

“Oh my god,” Minho groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We can’t keep one single secret in this house.”

Seungmin had been quiet through it all, perched stiffly at the edge of the sofa. But when Peter stirred, a soft fuss escaping, his shoulders tensed. His eyes flicked to you, then back to the baby.

“Do you want to try?” you asked gently.

His throat bobbed. “…Yeah.”

You shifted carefully, placing Peter into his arms. The room went still. Seungmin looked utterly petrified, hands trembling as he adjusted under Peter’s tiny weight.

“Support the neck,” Minho instructed again.

“I am supporting the neck,” Seungmin hissed.

Peter squirmed once, then stilled. His tiny face relaxed, a little sigh puffing against Seungmin’s chest.

The change in Seungmin’s face nearly broke you — the way fear melted into awe, the way his whole body softened around the fragile warmth in his arms.

“He… stopped crying,” he whispered, wonder threaded through every syllable.

“Because he knows you,” you said softly.

A beat passed, then Juni clambered onto the sofa beside him. They studied the scene with great importance. “Okay,” they announced finally. “You can be Peter’s daddy.”

Seungmin blinked down at them, throat tight. “…Thank you?”

“But!” Juni raised a finger. “You have to read Bunny stories at bedtime. And you can’t boss me, only Mummy can.”

Seungmin bit back a laugh. “Got it. Peter’s daddy. Juni’s… deputy.”

“Deputy Snack Supervisor,” Juni corrected, deadly serious.

Laughter rippled through the room.

You felt your chest ease for the first time in months. Seungmin was still angry, still grieving the time he’d lost, but here; with Peter curled against him, Juni already setting terms, and the boys creating utter chaos around you, the future didn’t feel so terrifying.

It felt possible.

And as Mylo swatted Changbin’s shoulder with a smirk, Cait and Jeongin tried and failed to act casual, and Juni curled into Seungmin’s side like it was the most natural thing in the world; you realized this wasn’t just survival anymore.

It was family. Messy. Loud. Imperfect. But yours.

The first thing you heard was crying.

Not Juni, they were still curled in their blanket fort on the floor, Bunny squashed under their chin. Not one of the boys either, though judging by Han’s groans from the sofa, that was a possibility.

It was Peter.

You sat up, ready to go, but Seungmin was already halfway down the hall, socks sliding on the hardwood. His body moved before his brain caught up.

The rest of the boys weren’t far behind.

Felix rubbed his eyes as he stumbled out of the kitchen. “Do we need backup?”

“It’s a baby, not a burglary,” Minho muttered, snatching a bottle from the counter.

Han trailed after them, whisper-singing “Rock-a-bye Baby” in a tone that made Peter cry louder.

The nursery door creaked open. Peter’s tiny face was scrunched, fists flailing, his cries far too big for his two-month-old body. Seungmin froze in the doorway, looking terrified.

You rose to follow, but Chan touched your arm gently. “Let him try.”

So you stayed, heart thudding, and listened.

Inside, Seungmin crept closer. “Hey, buddy,” he whispered, voice cracking with nerves. “It’s okay. Daddy’s here.”

The word slipped out before he realized. His chest squeezed tight. But Peter’s cries didn’t care about slips of the tongue — they only grew louder.

“What do I do?” Seungmin hissed, panicked.

“Pat his bum!” Han stage-whispered.

“Warm the bottle!” Felix added.

“Sing something!” Hyunjin urged.

“Shut up,” Minho snapped.

Seungmin shot them a look over his shoulder. “You lot are worse than Google.”

Still, he gathered Peter into his arms, remembering every detail from your notes: upright, head supported, sway gently. His movements were stiff, unsure, but when he started to hum, quiet and off-key, something miraculous happened.

The cries softened. Then hiccuped. Then stopped.

You pressed your fist to your mouth, eyes stinging.

Seungmin stared down at his son, awe and disbelief flooding his face. “You stopped… because of me?” he whispered.

Peter blinked up at him, his tiny chest rising and falling against Seungmin’s shirt, peaceful now.

The boys all collapsed against the doorframe, equally relieved and emotional.

“He’s a natural,” Han said, sniffing loudly.

“Don’t jinx it,” Felix hissed, crossing himself.

“Guess he’s officially Daddy now,” Hyunjin teased.

Seungmin flushed bright red. “Shut up.” But his voice trembled with something dangerously close to pride.

From the living room, a sleepy voice piped up. “Mummy?”

Juni shuffled in, hair wild, dragging Bunny by one leg. They blinked at Seungmin, at Peter nestled against him. “So… do I have two daddies now, or just one and a half?”

The room exploded.

Felix folded over, laughing so hard he nearly hit the floor. Han wheezed against the wall. Hyunjin choked on air.

“Deputy Daddy,” Minho deadpanned, already opening the notes app on his phone.

Seungmin’s ears burned crimson. He sputtered helplessly, glancing at you. You just smiled through your tears and nodded.

Juni climbed onto the sofa beside him, Bunny thumping against his arm. “Okay, Daddy Two. You can read Bunny a story after breakfast.”

Seungmin’s mouth curved, eyes glassy. “…Yeah. I can do that.”

The boys quieted, just for a moment, watching as Seungmin held both children close: Peter tiny and content against his chest, Juni bold and bossy by his side.

It wasn’t perfect. It was messy, awkward, terrifying.

Cait turned up at your apartment with bags of groceries and Jeongin in tow.

“You didn’t have to,” you said, juggling Peter in one arm as you held the door open.

“Yes, we did,” Cait said firmly, brushing past you. “You’ve got two kids, a flat full of grown men pretending they know how to parent, and a fridge that looks like the apocalypse hit it. Move.”

Behind her, Jeongin followed with a sheepish grin, arms full of nappies and wipes. “I carried the heavy stuff.”

“Barely,” Cait muttered.

From the floor, Juni gasped. “I.N!” They charged at him, Bunny flapping wildly. “You’re back! Did you bring snacks?”

“Always,” Jeongin said, pulling a chocolate bar from his pocket like a magician.

“Unfair,” Han muttered from the sofa. “I give them my soul and they still like you more.”

While Cait unpacked groceries, Jeongin hovered close, reaching for a packet just as her hand did. Their fingers brushed. They froze. Their eyes met for a beat too long.

Juni, sprawled on the rug, pointed. “They’re holding hands again.”

The room went silent.

Cait nearly dropped the milk. “We were not—”

“Again?” Minho repeated, eyes narrowing.

Jeongin’s ears turned scarlet. “I—it was an accident!”

“You’re blushing,” Felix sang from the kitchen.

Cait groaned, covering her face. “You are all insufferable.”

Juni beamed, perfectly satisfied. “They’re kissy friends.”

Hyunjin collapsed against the wall laughing. Chan pinched the bridge of his nose. You bit your lip to hide your smile.

Later that week, you stopped by the boys’ dorm with Juni and Peter. Cait and Jeongin were already there, “just visiting,” though the way they sat pressed shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch said otherwise.

Mylo had claimed the armchair, watching it all with their usual dry detachment.

When Cait leaned over to fix a smudge of sauce on Jeongin’s cheek, Mylo arched a brow. “You two are subtle as a car alarm.”

The room erupted.

“Thank you!” Han shouted, throwing his hands up. “Finally someone says it!”

Jeongin went pink to his hairline. “It’s—it’s not—”

“It is,” Cait muttered, glaring daggers at Mylo.

Changbin nearly choked on his drink. “Wait, is this—like, real real?”

“No!” Cait and Jeongin said in unison.

“Yes,” Juni chimed in with all the certainty of a judge delivering a verdict.

Peter hiccupped loudly from your lap, almost like he agreed.

The boys roared with laughter. Cait groaned into her hands. Jeongin muttered something about moving to another country.

Mylo just smirked. “Called it.”

“Welcome to Dad Bootcamp.”

Seungmin blinked up at Chan, who was standing in your living room holding a clipboard he’d stolen from somewhere. The rest of the boys were lined up behind him, deadly serious. Juni stood at the front in Bunny pajamas, clearly the ringleader.

“What… is this?” Seungmin asked slowly.

“Training,” Juni declared. “You need to learn how to be Peter’s daddy. And they need to learn how to be uncles properly. So it’s Bootcamp Day.”

Peter, two months old and blissfully unaware, gurgled in your arms.

Seungmin pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is ridiculous.”

“It’s essential,” Han corrected, strapping a baby doll to his chest with Minho’s scarf. “Look. I’m already thriving.”

“You’ve put it on backwards,” Minho said flatly.

“Details,” Han sniffed.

Station One: Bottle Feeding

Felix demonstrated warming a bottle, explaining like a cooking show host. “You swirl, not shake, or it gets bubbles. Babies hate bubbles. Bubbles are evil.”

Seungmin took Peter carefully into his arms, every muscle stiff. You passed him the bottle, your heart in your throat. He hesitated… then tried.

Peter latched. Drank. Relaxed.

“Success!” Felix shouted, nearly knocking over the kettle in excitement.

“Too easy,” Juni said. “Next station!”

Station Two: Burping

“Pat-pat rhythm is key,” Hyunjin instructed, bouncing a teddy bear over his shoulder. “I recommend syncopation for style points.”

Seungmin stared. “He’s not a drum kit.”

Hyunjin pouted. “He could be.”

Peter’s tiny body wriggled as Seungmin patted gently. One burp later, the boys cheered like he’d won an Olympic medal.

Han wiped fake tears. “My little boy is growing up.”

Minho smacked him with a cushion.

Station Three: Nappy Changing

Changbin slapped a clean nappy on the coffee table like a blackjack dealer. “Final boss.”

The boys crowded around, phones ready to record. Seungmin crouched down, muttering, “I can do this. I’m smart. I’m capable. I—”

Peter peed.

Right onto Seungmin’s shirt.

The dorm erupted. Han rolled on the floor. Felix cried actual tears. Cait (who’d dropped by mid-chaos) covered her face while Jeongin tried and failed to stifle laughter.

Mylo, sitting in the armchair with a cup of tea, observed calmly. “You got ambushed. Rookie mistake.”

Seungmin froze, eyes wide, shirt soaked. Then — slowly — he laughed. The sound cracked open something in your chest. “Okay. Fine. Point to Peter.”

“Ten points to Gryffindor!” Juni shouted, clapping.

By the end of the day, Seungmin was rumpled, exhausted, and wearing Felix’s spare hoodie after the nappy incident. But he was also smiling — a real smile, not the brittle one he’d worn for days.

As Peter snoozed against his chest, Juni clambered onto his lap with Bunny. “You did okay, Daddy Two,” they announced. “You can stay.”

Seungmin’s throat bobbed. “…Thanks, Juni.”

The boys collapsed into the sofa, groaning and laughing in equal measure. Cait leaned against Jeongin’s shoulder, Mylo smirked at Changbin’s flustered attempt to argue with them about baby wipes, and Chan scribbled a final note on his clipboard.

“Bootcamp complete,” he announced. “Welcome to the team, Seungmin.”

For the first time, Seungmin didn’t look like he was on the outside looking in. He looked like he belonged.

And sitting there — Peter asleep on his chest, Juni curled into his side, and the world’s most chaotic uncle squad sprawled around him — he realized he did.

Bedtime at your apartment had become a group event.

Juni sat cross-legged on the bed, Bunny clutched to their chest, eyes narrowed like a tiny general. “You have to read it like this,” they instructed, handing Seungmin a battered storybook. “Voices and everything. No boring.”

Seungmin raised a brow. “Voices?”

“Yes.” Juni jabbed a finger at the page. “That’s the dragon. Dragons are scary. Do a scary voice.”

He cleared his throat, then rumbled out a deep, exaggerated growl.

Juni dissolved into giggles, toppling sideways onto the pillows. “Again! Again!”

From the doorway, the boys were stacked like nosy neighbors, each craning to watch. Han was snickering, Felix was grinning so wide his cheeks hurt, and Minho had his phone out “for evidence.”

Seungmin powered through, doing voices for every character. By the end, Juni was laughing so hard they could barely breathe, Bunny flopping in their arms. When the book finally closed, they wriggled closer, head resting on Seungmin’s arm.

“You’re not too bad, Daddy Two,” Juni murmured sleepily. “You can read Bunny stories anytime.”

Seungmin froze, throat tight, then glanced at you. You nodded, tears pricking, and he whispered back, “Deal.”

The living room was louder.

Cait and Jeongin had taken over the couch, whispering far too close for “just friends.” Jeongin laughed at something she said, head ducked, ears flushed red. Cait nudged him with her knee, smiling in a way you’d never seen her smile at anyone else.

Hyunjin, sprawled across the rug with Peter in his lap, watched them for exactly ten more seconds before he sat up sharply.

“Okay, enough,” he said.

Both Cait and Jeongin froze. “What?” Cait asked, voice too high.

“You two,” Hyunjin said, pointing between them. “You’re together. Just admit it. The tension is suffocating.”

Jeongin nearly dropped the cushion he was holding. “Wh—what?! No, we’re not—”

“Yes, you are,” Hyunjin interrupted, deadpan. “You look at her like she hung the moon. And she looks at you like you hung the shelves badly. It’s obvious.”

The room erupted. Han doubled over laughing. Felix clapped. Minho muttered, “Finally.”

Cait buried her face in her hands. “I hate you all.”

Jeongin’s ears went crimson. “We were going to tell you—”

“When?” Hyunjin asked sweetly. “After your wedding? During Bunny’s graduation?”

“HYUNJIN!” Cait shouted, mortified.

Peter squeaked in Hyunjin’s lap, wide-eyed at the sudden noise. Hyunjin immediately softened, cuddling him close. “Sorry, little man. Uncle had to save us all from bad acting.”

Meanwhile, at the dining table, Changbin and Mylo were in the middle of their second argument of the night.

“You don’t fold nappies like that,” Mylo said bluntly, watching him struggle with the stack.

“They’re fine,” Changbin grumbled.

“They’re a disaster,” Mylo corrected, snatching one and folding it neatly in three swift motions.

Changbin scowled, but his ears were pink. “Show-off.”

Mylo smirked. “Just competent.”

Felix peeked over from the sofa, grin sly. “Are you two flirting or fighting?”

“Neither!” Changbin snapped.

“Yes,” Mylo said at the same time, completely straight-faced.

The boys howled. Changbin buried his face in his hands. Mylo just sipped their tea, smug.

By the time night settled, the apartment was quiet again. Juni was asleep with Bunny tucked under their chin, Peter snoozed in his crib, and the boys dozed in mismatched piles across the living room.

You lingered in the doorway, watching Seungmin stroke Peter’s tiny hand through the crib bars, his face soft in the lamplight. He caught your gaze and offered the smallest, most fragile smile.

It wasn’t perfect yet. There were still secrets, still scars, still a long road ahead.

But the foundation was there.

And with every laugh, every whispered bedtime story, every ridiculous argument and quiet confession — it was getting stronger.

Mornings at your apartment had become a circus.

Peter cried for his bottle. Juni shouted about Bunny’s breakfast. The boys tripped over each other trying to help, turning your kitchen into an obstacle course of cereal boxes, coffee mugs, and misplaced socks.

Han, bleary-eyed, waved a frying pan like a conductor’s baton. “Breakfast! Pancakes for morale!”

“You can’t even flip them,” Minho said, stealing the spatula. “You nearly burned the last batch.”

Felix, covered in flour, popped his head out of the pantry. “I was trying to baby-proof the cupboard with snacks, but now the rice is everywhere.”

Hyunjin emerged from Juni’s room, hair sticking up. “They made me style Bunny’s ears into pigtails. Don’t ask.”

“Best hair ever!” Juni shouted proudly, sprinting past with Bunny held aloft like a runway model.

Through it all, Seungmin moved more confidently now. He scooped Peter up with practiced ease, settling the baby against his shoulder. “Shhh. Daddy’s got you.” His voice was steady, his sway smooth. Peter cooed, tiny hands batting the air, and Seungmin’s smile was soft and sure.

The boys noticed. They teased, of course.

“Look at Daddy Two,” Han whispered loudly. “Natural instincts.”

“Give it a week, he’ll have the dad jokes too,” Felix added.

“Terrifying,” Minho muttered.

Seungmin rolled his eyes, but when Juni barreled into his leg and demanded, “Daddy Two, read Bunny’s menu for breakfast,” he bent down immediately, obliging with the gravitas of a Michelin-star chef.

Cait and Jeongin were less secretive now, though they tried. Cait would pass him a mug, Jeongin would lean too close, and Hyunjin would loudly clear his throat in the corner.

“You’re embarrassing,” Cait snapped at him one afternoon.

“You’re obvious,” Hyunjin shot back, smirking.

Jeongin went scarlet, and Juni, ever the truth-bomb, chirped, “They kiss when no one’s looking.”

Cait groaned into her hands. “I hate you all.”

But she didn’t deny it anymore.

Changbin and Mylo were… something.

They bickered constantly, over nappies, over music playlists, over the correct way to fold Juni’s pyjamas. But you noticed the soft edges creeping in. The way Changbin grinned despite himself when Mylo called him out. The way Mylo lingered just a second longer when handing him things. The way the boys smirked every time they caught it.

“Are you two dating yet?” Felix asked innocently one evening.

“NO,” Changbin snapped.

“Eventually,” Mylo said, deadpan.

The room exploded.

That night, after Juni was tucked in and Peter was finally asleep, the living room was quiet. The boys lounged across the furniture in a rare moment of peace. Cait leaned against Jeongin, who didn’t bother moving. Mylo sat cross-legged on the floor, Changbin beside them pretending not to smile.

And Seungmin… Seungmin had Peter asleep on his chest, Juni curled at his side with Bunny. He looked tired, but not brittle. He looked like a man who belonged here.

You sat across from him, catching his eye. He mouthed, thank you.

You mouthed back, for what?

He glanced at the baby in his arms, then at Juni snuggled against him, then back at you. For this.

The lump in your throat nearly undid you.

The room hummed with quiet, the kind of silence that wasn’t heavy anymore — just warm. Family.

Messy. Loud. Imperfect. Yours.

And maybe, finally, enough.

Three months later, your apartment ran on organized chaos.

Peter was bigger now, cheeks rounder, smile brighter. He cooed in Seungmin’s arms, tiny hands clutching at his hoodie strings. Seungmin grinned down at him, utterly unbothered when Peter drooled all over his shirt.

“Badge of honour,” he said when Han pointed it out. “Dad uniform.”

Juni, now four, stood proudly in the middle of the room, Bunny tucked under their arm. “Everybody listen! Daddy Two is official.”

The boys cheered like it was a championship. Felix waved a saucepan like a trophy. Hyunjin collapsed dramatically onto the rug. Han tried to start a chant until Minho shoved a cushion in his face.

Seungmin laughed — real, unguarded, full. He pulled Juni into one arm, Peter into the other, and let them both cling to him. “Official, huh?”

“Yup,” Juni said solemnly. “You’re in the family now. No returns.”

“Terrifying,” Minho muttered, but he was smiling.

On the couch, Cait and Jeongin sat shoulder-to-shoulder, no longer pretending. Jeongin’s hand rested easily over hers, and no one teased them, much.

By the window, Mylo and Changbin were mid-argument about snacks, but the grin tugging at Changbin’s lips told its own story.

And you, watching from across the room, felt the weight of the past year slip further away. The fear, the secrecy, the storm — all of it softened by the sight before you.

It wasn’t perfect. It never would be. But as Seungmin kissed Peter’s head and let Juni climb onto his lap, surrounded by laughter, you realized perfection had never been the goal.

Family was.

And now, finally, you had it.