Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

BYE, SEE YOU LATER

Before living with Minho, Chan wouldn’t consider himself a morning person. Even after the two moved in together, this didn’t change much. While his sleep schedule did get better - promises of cuddles (and more) that came with sharing a bed did wonders to Chan’s insomniac self and as a result of that came earlier mornings of catching Minho before he left for work; Chan still did prefer his nocturnal lifestyle consisting of waking when inspiration hit (a flexible schedule really was the best). 

Lately however, Chan finds himself up almost daily at 7am, rubbing away sleep as he watches Minho bustle around in the kitchen. The first time it happened, Chan figured it was just the shuffling of Minho in the morning that woke him, but then he found himself one morning staring at a still sleeping Minho beside him - the house almost in complete silence with no sounds that could even wake the lightest of sleepers. It was a mystery to him, considering how before, the only time he would ever see the clock with a 07:00 AM on it was when he lost track of time and stayed up slightly later than his usual bedtime.

Just as he was about to comment on this puzzling contemplation of his to Minho, a door creaks open and a blur races out of it, heading for the front door. 

Minho clears his throat sternly, and the blurry figure stopped moving. Chan blinks blearily as his eyes begin to clear up, and- oh. Now Chan remembers why he started to wake up earlier. 

“Hello Mister Yang Jeongin.” Minho’s voice is light and sweet, but after eight years of being together, Chan could tell it was anything but. “Would your royal highness like to join us for breakfast? And while we’re at it, we can also discuss why you refuse to take my specially prepared excruciatingly made lunchbox that I spent hours making to school with you.”

Jeongin rolls his eyes. “You literally just stuffed last night's leftovers in a tupperware.” 

“Still better than that processed sh- food your school serves.” Minho shoots back, pushing said tupperware forward while glaring at Chan’s not so subtle nudge. “Speaking of school, why won’t you let us walk you there? It’s your first day of high school, we want to be there to support you!”

Jeongin merely shrugs, grabbing an apple from the counter and stuffing it in his bag. “Full offense, but no fifteen year old needs two old men like you guys to walk them to school like, ever.”

“Minho, bite back your comment right now,” Chan hisses, throwing a fake smile in Jeongin’s direction while eyeing Minho warningly, who - as eight years of being together does to a couple - Chan could tell had a retort right on the edge of his tongue. “Be the bigger person and bite. It. Back.” 

Minho rolls his eyes but does so, plastering just as fake a smile as Chan and responding with an even more plastic response. “Well, we would like to be there for your first day at a new school-”

“Nope.” With that, Jeongin walks out the door. Silence fell in the kitchen. 

Minho whips around to Chan. “Can we return him. Can we please return him.”

“Just like I told you the last dozen plus times you asked me,” Chan sighs, grabbing a waffle from the common plate, “No.”

“He insulted my food!” Minho glowers at the tupperware in front of him, as if it was the box of rice and tofu that had offended Minho and not a fifteen year old who prefers walking to school alone. “And we are not that old. He should be honored we even offered.”

“I think it’s more about the notion of being walked to school by two adults, really.” Chan winces at the glare that Minho sent his way. “But no, you’re right, we’re not and your food is definitely better than school lunches.”

“Right answer. Anything else and I would have divorced you right here and now.”

“How comforting to know that that’s what's keeping our marriage together.”

The door creaks open suddenly. They both turn to see Jeongin peeking shyly in. Minho stares him down, eyes narrowing. 

“What is it, you need more lunch money or something-” 

“I forgot to say bye.” Jeongin says timidly, biting his lip. Chan felt himself freeze. Next to him, Minho did the same. “So… um, bye. I’ll see you guys later.” 

He glances over at the kitchen table, where Minho’s lunch box sits, before shuffling over to grab it. With one last wave, he left again. 

Chan’s eyes darted from the door to Minho, who - despite how nonchalant he was acting - had a smile threatening his lips, blush slowly forming on his cheeks. 

And well, this was really the reason Chan woke up so early. Chan knew he could never miss the small moments of tenderness like this, where beyond the petty arguments, sarcastic comments, and his own heavy sighs, was the happy greetings that always made his days.

A DECK OF CARDS 

Chan was the one who first had the idea of becoming foster parents. 

Really, Chan's end goal was adoption. He's always been good with kids, and now that both he and Minho were well into their mid 20’s, had stable incomes and flexible enough schedules, and finally bought their own place in a decent enough neighborhood to raise children, well, Chan figured that this was a sign of a good enough time than any. 

Minho had been more hesitant at first. They had discussed having kids before, both during their dating years and then again after getting married - something they both agreed that they wanted at some time. But for Minho - when Chan had broached the topic at dinner one night - some time wasn't any time soon for him. 

Chan respected that, and knew he would definitely prefer for the two of them to be on the same page before any major commitments like adoption. At the same time however, he knew Minho was well aware of his own uncontainable enthusiasm and impatience to have children no matter how much Chan tried to play it off. He didn't want to place any unwanted pressure on Minho to give in to Chan's wants, but knew that it was hard to hide his desires from Minho - who probably knew Chan better than he did himself. 

So his first suggestion was actually volunteering at a local group home on their free days, which he hoped would pose as a good enough compromise and help ease Minho into the idea of fostering.

Chan didn't know exactly what happened. Minho had been reluctant, almost to the point of unwilling the first day they went volunteering. During the time they spent at the home, Chan didn't see Minho interact with the children at all, and after a while, figured Minho went inside to help the caregivers with preparing food. 

But then on their way back home that night, Minho had been the one to set their next visit date. Chan was confused based upon Minho's actions that day, but seeing the newfound enthusiasm Minho had was more than enough for Chan to say yes. 

The next time they went, Minho bypassed all the little kids playing around and dragged Chan to the back room, where there was an older boy with a few bruises on his knuckles and scabs on his face, but sported a mischievous smile regardless of it all. Chan watched as Minho smirked at the boy, introduced him as "this little punk Jeongin" to Chan, and commented to Jeongin that he brought "someone here who's going to win your ass in poker." Then he sat Chan down, pulled out a deck of cards - and the rest was history. 

THE START OF SOMETHING NEW

Chan remembers when they first brought Jeongin home officially. It wasn't immediately after their first meeting (where Jeongin had beat Chan 3 to 1 as Minho spoke to the wards about fostering Jeongin). It took two weeks of constant visits to the group home for one on one time with Jeongin, followed by a week and a half of Jeongin joining them at their home for dinner, before they could even begin the process of bringing Jeongin home. 

Even if Chan had started the more enthusiastic one about fostering a child, it was Minho who really went all in. Gone was their alcohol rack in the fridge, locked away in their bedroom instead. Their Netflix account started to fill with shows Chan had never heard of until Jeongin mentioned them offhandedly as enjoying. What had been sets of two soon became three, from an additional chair in the kitchen to an extra shelf in their shoe closet.

It was Minho - who, once learning Jeongin was a big fan of seafood dishes - remnants of a childhood by the sea - researched the closest fish market with the best selections. Who spent hours pouring over blogs and vlogs on high school admissions, content and examinations, while simultaneously complaining to Chan about the education system and its many apparent flaws. 

Minho, who bought more toys than Chan had ever seen in one room, to which Chan had stolen the receipt to return them all, saying that Jeongin was a "fifteen year old kid who probably does not want train sets and a play kitchen he probably wants like a gaming laptop or nintendo switch or something instead," only for Minho to buy enough books to fill a library with the retort, "I will not let his brain rot with those gaming devices, it's bad enough he's going to be in the same house as you who is practically married to your computer-"

(Minho's mom had been there during that exchange, chuckling as she packed up Dori's bed and cat house. And well, the real moment that Chan realized how much this had become a dream they shared together was when they found out Jeongin had a small allergy to cat fur, and Minho had almost immediately called his mom to take Dori back to their family home.)

THE IMPORTANCE OF SEATBELTS

“All I’m saying is if you actually cleaned your room every once in a while, maybe we wouldn’t be spending so much time each week looking for your notebook-”

“Listen, I prefer it this way, I think it’s pretty organized in here!” 

“Organized my ass, more like organized chaos.”

It’s impossible to ever leave this place without someone arguing, Chan thinks idly to himself, spinning his car keys as he waits. They were most likely going to be late to Jeongin’s appointment like usual, and as always, Chan wonders why Jeongin didn’t start looking for his journal much earlier, but he holds his tongue. An unspoken rule in their household seems to be that for as much as Jeongin and Minho liked to argue, the moment Chan steps in with his own opinion, it becomes 2 against 1 in a heartbeat. 

“-Chan is super messy too, so I’m not sure why you’re always on my case about this…” The two had finally left Jeongin’s room, a purple notebook in Jeongin’s hand. 

“Listen, I’ve been trying for eight years to get him to clean, and nothing’s changed.” Minho says in response. He opens the back door of their car and ushers Jeongin in, before climbing in right behind him. “If I start early with you, I’m hoping I can train you better at not living in a disaster zone your whole life.”

“Hey now, I’m not that bad.” 

Jeongin scoffs. “Chan, I’ve seen your studio. Minho is right, you’re a lost cause.” He buckles himself in, before peering over at Chan and Minho’s own seatbelts, checking to make sure they were in. Chan waits for Jeongin to nod his approval and sit back, before starting the car, heading down the road to the office.

For the most part, the ride was silent from then on, Jeongin immediately closing his eyes and holding onto Minho’s hand, where Chan could see Minho rubbing it softly. He smiled, the sight of his family warming his heart.  

“You know what,” Minho snaps his free hand suddenly. Jeongin blinks his eyes open, and questioningly looks up at Minho. “I really should be training you both more in cleaning. This Saturday, neither of you are allowed to make plans. It’s my day off so we’re going to scrub our place down from top to bottom.” 

Chan could think of better ways to spend his weekends, but the scathing glare he sees through the rearview mirror is enough to make him keep his mouth shut, focusing instead on pulling into the therapist's office instead. 

Jeongin on the other hand, didn’t get the same memo. “No thanks, there’s an Overwatch tournament happening that I joined.” With that, he clicks his seatbelt off. 

“Bye, I’ll see you later.” he hops out of the car. Minho and Chan watches as he walks into the office, before Minho climbs over into the front passenger seat, a face that Chan (as eight years of being together had clued him into) knows meant a long complaint was on its way. 

“I promise I’ll clean with you, and I’ll ask Jeongin to join us for part of the time.” He blurts out before Minho even opens his mouth. “I mean, I am the messier one anyways, plus I know he’s been excited for this tournament for a while.” 

Minho glares at Chan, but nods in agreement. “This is your fault, I told you we shouldn’t have bought him that laptop.”

“Yes indeed, how is he ever going to get into SNU now?” Chan jokes back, earning a jab in the side. Last Tuesday, a neighbor of theirs had made the remark that Minho and Chan should be signing Jeongin up for more cram schools like she did with her own two “well achieved boys”, because how would “Jeongin ever become something of himself if he’s not studying as hard?” Chan hadn’t heard the end of that for a while, though for once, he was in complete agreement with Minho’s biting retorts. 

(Secretly thought, Chan felt slightly pleased to hear their neighbor - who wasn’t the most welcoming to Minho and Chan and didn’t acknowledge Jeongin his first week living with them was actually referring to them as Jeongin’s guardians. It was the small things that mattered.)

“Ah damnit it,” Chan blinks out of his thoughts, and looks over to see Minho putting his iPad away. “Forgot to charge this, it’s dead.” 

Chan motions to the therapist’s office. “Wanna go in and charge?” Minho nods no. 

“It’s fine, don’t want Jeongin to see me there accidentally.” Chan hums, understanding. Even if Jeongin said it was fine for them to sit in the office and wait for Jeongin to finish, both Minho and Chan agreed they didn’t want to do so. There were few places that were Jeongin’s space and his alone, and they wanted to respect that - even if it meant waiting in the car an hour and a half every other week for him to finish. 

“Well, we do have an hour to kill…” He winks at Minho. Minho blinks at him, jaw dropping in disbelief. 

“Really? In front of a children’s therapy office?” Chan laughs at that, reaching over the center console to pull Minho into his chest. 

“Not sure what you were thinking, but I was just thinking I could cuddle and kiss my husband for a little.” Minho scoffs, but climbs over and squeezes into the tiny driver’s seat, snuggling in next to Chan. 

“This reminds me of that road trip we took after college.” He mumbles, head in Chan’s chest. Chan chuckles at that, flashes of that wild trip passing through his mind. 

They sit in silence once more, watching as people enter and exit the therapist's office in front of them. 

“Oh, there was something I wanted to ask you,” Chan says suddenly, as the thought occurs to him. Minho hums in acknowledgment. “Do you… do you think we should schedule a group session in two weeks?” 

Chan feels as Minho shuffles, and looks down to see Minho looking back up at him. “Wait, why?” 

“Well, you know…” Chan hesitates for a moment. “You know… next week…” 

“Oh.” Minho finally understood. He pulls himself out of Chan’s chest to look him straight in the eye. 

When Jeongin first came to live with them, they were required by the agency to go to at least two group sessions with a local therapist - a way to make sure they were all easing into their new arrangements. Since then however, it was just Jeongin who continued with the biweekly meetings. 

But next week was the anniversary of Jeongin’s parents death. Originally they had thought Jeongin would want to go alone like he had done so the past seven years of his life, and were more than happy to drop him off and wait for him to pay his respects. That was the plan, until two nights ago, Jeongin had asked with a whisper if they would join him. Minho had almost immediately taken off work and Chan cleared his schedule of any plans. 

Chan was nervous. They’d never experienced the death anniversary with him, having only been his foster parents for five months at this point, and the social worker had told them that Jeongin was usually at the orphanage during the time period, meaning he’d never gone with any of his past foster parents either. This was new territory for all three of them, so Chan wondered if such a sensitive time might require some outside guidance to navigate. 

“What do you think?” He asks again. Minho sighs, furrowing his eyebrows in thought. 

“I think… we should ask Jeongin what he thinks.” He finally says. “Because this isn't about us.”

“It’s about him.” Chan finishes, nodding in agreement. Minho smiles softly at that, before burrowing him back into Chan’s chest. 

“Maybe when the weather gets warmer we can try and do one with Jeongin.” Chan looks down at Minho, confused. “I mean, a road trip like college, except without half the shit we got up to back then.”

Chan oh s silently. He wonders if it would be feasible, given that Jeongin could hardly stomach being in the car for the ten minute drive to his therapist. 

But at the same time, they’ve already had so many firsts with Jeongin. Some of them were exciting, from bringing Jeongin home, to seeing him off for his first day of high school. Others weren’t as happy, as Chan remembered the panic they felt when Jeongin first blew up on them - tensions from moving from a semi independent environment like the group home to something more structured like Minho and Chan tried to provide for him. Chan wasn’t sure what would happen after next week, the first time greeting Jeongin’s parents (and - if Chan was wishful enough, hopefully not the last). 

There have been so many new experiences they’ve shared with Jeongin, both good and bad. Chan doesn’t doubt that there would be many more to come as well, but - as he looked down at his husband curled up in his chest, and thought about Jeongin in the office in front of them - he was sure they would be able to navigate them just as they had done before. Together. 

So Chan just smiles at Minho, and says, “Well, I say we ask what Jeongin thinks about that.” 

THROUGH CHAN’S EYES (AND NO ONE ELSE'S)

From the outside, Chan wonders what people think when they see Minho and Jeongin together. He knows how alike the two are. They were both fiercely independent and unwavering in their self, confident and assured in their own self being. It was an admirable trait, something that Chan admired, but was also probably the reason they clashed so often. 

When his parents came to visit once, his mother had taken him aside on the last day, worried about Minho and Jeongin and how many times they had argued during their trip. “Are you sure that’s good for the boy?” she asked, concern clear on her face. “I mean, what kind of image is Minho giving him, if he spends every waking moment arguing with Jeongin over every little thing? More importantly, what would your social worker say?”

A part of Chan can see where his mother is coming at. In the beginning, when Chan was still nervous enough about fostering to join multiple online support groups and subscribe to various newsletters he found, the number one tip was putting on a good enough impression on both child and social worker so they could keep their foster child and not be blacklisted from the system (Chan is sure most want that to ensure the government checks still come in - but Chan fear was rooted in losing an already shaky chance at raising Jeongin). Chan can only imagine what would come of their social worker coming in during one of their morning banters, watching Minho and Jeongin fight over walking to school or taking a home cooked meal. Never mind if they were done for Jeongin’s well being, raised voices and rolled eyes were easily a strike against Minho and Chan, regardless of the actual dialogue happening.

But Chan also is able to see things that his mother never will be able too. He sees Minho holding onto Jeongin’s hand during car rides, a soothing rub against all the fears that Jeongin lives with. He sees the snarky retorts Minho makes towards their neighbor when she drops an ill-intended comment in front of Jeongin. He sees the care Minho makes into preparing dishes that Jeongin likes the night before, and making sure to save some for Jeongin to take to school. 

There’s many things he wishes his mother, and Jeongin’s teachers, and the social worker on their case and even their neighbors who all watch their family with wary eyes could see, like the scene that greets him at home after a long day of meeting with pretentious entertainment CEOs and the likes. Minho and Jeongin are curled up in their living room, a variety show playing in the background, but neither are watching it. Jeongin is asleep, head on the shoulder of their couch, and Minho… 

Chan walks over as quietly as he could and greets Minho with a light peck on the top of his head. Minho doesn’t even look his way, his eyes solely trained only on Jeongin with a tender smile on his face and soft look in his eyes, as if nothing else exists in the world except for the small boy lying there so peacefully in front of them. 

And well, sure, maybe Chan wishes the world could see these moments, where behind the bickering and playfulness and teasing the two share constantly are the sweet glances and quiet gestures that really show their true feelings for each other. But at the same time, he’s glad they don’t, because maybe he might be selfish, but it’s these memories he wants to keep to their own little family of three forever. 

YOU’LL COME SEE ME?

The flyer was almost mocking them both, bright Christmas colors cheerily popping up at them, a complete opposite of how they were feeling.

“How did he not tell us about this?” Chan hisses, eyes darting between Minho and the offending paper. 

“More importantly, why did we have to hear about it from Mrs. Park!” Minho growls back. Chan took a slight step away, weary of another blow up. When Minho had stormed in about twenty minutes earlier, eyes deadset for murder and rage radiating from him in mighty waves, Chan almost immediately knew that their “lovely” neighbor - who had recently taken up to comparing Jeongin with her own two sons over everything - had probably said something again to piss Minho off. 

But learning that Jeongin was in the school’s play that neither Minho and Chan even knew was happening was not what he was expecting Minho to say. 

If there was one win in this scenario, it was that Mrs Park’s son didn’t get a part. But, as Minho had so eloquently put it, “I couldn’t even fucking gloat about it in her face because I didn’t even know it was happening, damnit!”

That was twenty minutes ago however, and now they were left with the realization that - even as Chan and Minho had tried their best to be involved in Jeongin’s schooling and extracurriculars, and actively support all of his hobbies and interests, there was still so much that went on in his life that they weren’t privy too at all. 

“Why didn’t he tell us about this, I mean, don’t all kids want their parents to come to school functions? And like, I didn’t even know Jeongin was interested in theater!” 

“Calm down Chan, I mean, this is probably another one of those fifteen year old things. Little brat didn’t even want us to walk him to school.” But Chan could tell Minho was wondering the same thing. He could see Minho chewing on his bottom lip, his eyes quivering in a mix of sadness and disappointment. 

“Do you…” Minho continues, voice softening. “Do you think… think we’re trying too hard? Because really… I mean, we aren’t… he’s not really…” Minho leaves the rest of it unspoken, as if it hurt to even say. To Chan, it hurt to even think about really, that at the end of the day, he couldn’t truthfully call himself Jeongin’s dad.

The door creaks open behind them. Chan turns to see Jeongin coming in (much later than usual, he suddenly realizes, probably because of practice). Besides him, Minho schools his expression into his normal face, while Chan tries to plaster on a smile. 

“Hi Jeongin, how was school today?” Minho starts. Chan almost snorted at how fake he sounded, but kept up his facade, trying his best to appear as if he wasn’t just having an internal crisis over his relationship with Jeongin. 

Jeongin - on the other hand, was definitely not buying it. His eyes darted between the two of them, one eyebrow raised. “You guys good?” he finally says. 

Minho smiles brightly, though Chan can tell it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah! We’re good but oh-” Jeongin had just noticed the flyer on the kitchen counter, and grabbed it before Minho could swipe it first. 

Chan watches with alarm as Jeongin stares at the flyer, his expression hard to read. 

“It was Chan’s fault!” Minho blurts out desperately, almost immediately throwing Chan under the metaphoric bus. This time, Chan turns to Minho in alarm. 

“Wait- what- no you were the one who got it from Mrs. Park- Wait, why would it be my fault how am I at fault here what even is the fault here - ” 

“Look, Jeongin,” Minho ignores Chan’s sputters and leans down, putting his hands on Jeongin’s shoulders in an awkwardly comforting way. “We… we know there must be a reason that you didn’t want us to know about this. And, I mean, even if we both would really love to go see you perform if you’d rather we not then we understand completely-”

“W-wait, you… you’ll go see me?” Jeongin interrupts. “At the orphanage they never did.”

This time, both Minho and Chan were left speechless. 

Jeongin, taking their silence to continue on, “I mean… I used to ask if they could come, but usually none of the group mothers could make it out so I just… I just stopped asking, that’s all.” He shrugs, but the nonchalance with which he did so unnerved Chan.

“Jeongin…” he starts, sitting down on the kitchen stool to be more level with Jeongin. “How… How long have you been in school plays?”

Jeongin shrugs again. “Since… since sixth grade I think?” 

“I didn’t know you had an interest in acting?” Minho adds tentatively. 

“I don’t, at least, not really. I mean, I joined the theater club because it was the easiest club to get into that stayed late after school back then, and I didn’t really… well… I just wanted to stay after school as much as I could. Plus, they gave free pizza during practice.”

Chan could feel his heart cracking, and could tell with Minho’s falling gaze that he was feeling the same. 

“But… I mean, it was pretty fun, so even after I… after I came to live with you guys- I still wanted to join the club in high school, so I tried out earlier this year for it. I don’t really have a big role or anything, so I didn’t feel like telling you guys or anything.” He bit his lip, his eyes darting up. “But… I mean, if… if I did ask you guys to come… would- would you?”

There is so much vulnerability in his voice, something that Chan hardly ever heard from Jeongin. The last time he could recall such timidness was back when Jeongin wanted them to come visit his parents with him on their death anniversary, the same eyes of nervousness and quiet voice back then once again appearing now. It was in these moments where Chan was painfully reminded that even seven months into their foster care arrangement - which Chan knew from Jeongin’s file was longer than any home he had been in before - there was still so much hesitancy in completely opening up to Minho and Chan, a guarded wall that Jeongin put up when it came to asking the two for things he secretly desired. 

In these moments where Jeongin dared to express his true feelings, Minho and Chan knew they had to show Jeongin that it was okay to do so with their own actions, to take the bits and pieces Jeongin extended their way with as much love and fervor that they could. 

Which is why, before Chan could even open his mouth, Minho blurts out at the same time- “Not only will I go, you bet I will be the loudest person after every single one of your lines and all your solos-” 

“I lied!” Jeongin groans almost immediately, turning away from Minho’s excitement. “I lied, I don’t want you guys there at all, please stay far away I will call social services on you-” 

“Oh you should, let’s invite Ms. Kim too!” Minho gasps, eyes lighting up. “Wait, I’m going to call my mom and dad to come also, they can bring Soonie, Doonie and Dori as well so your siblings can see how amazing their older brother is at acting-” 

“Do not call your mom and dad to come I beg of you, and can you stop referring to your cats as my siblings-”

Chan chuckles, watching Jeongin and Minho erupt into their usual banter. He looks down at the forgotten flyer on the table, the colors no longer causing panic inside, but instead a bubbling feeling of joy instead. 

Because in the split second after Minho had said yes that they would go, and right before Jeongin came back with his own retort, there was a change in Jeongin’s eyes. The wariness was gone, replaced with unbridled happiness, and even now amidst the playful argument he was having with Minho, Chan could see a wide smile threatening Jeongin’s cheeks, his eyes sparkling with elation. And Chan knows that he would never stop trying with Jeongin ever, because it was in the small moments like these, where Jeongin allowed his guard to come down and for Minho and Chan to come into his life, these were the moments that made it all worth it. 

(They do go to Jeongin’s play, even bringing along Minho’s parents with them, and while Minho doesn’t make do on his promise to scream after every single one of Jeongin’s lines, Chan could still see Jeongin’s blooming smile when Minho was the first to give a standing ovation at the end, and when Chan had almost immediately complained over how small Jeongin’s role was after Minho’s dad had given their flower bouquet at the end. 

The smile remained as Jeongin accepted the flowers happily, waved a small “Bye, see you later!” as he ran to join his friends for the cast after party, sending another bright grin as the group of them left the auditorium for the cafeteria. Chan turned to look at Minho, only to see his husband already staring back at him, and well- 

They don’t claim to have telepathy or any of the other cliches couples usually did, but Chan wondered if maybe there was some truth in couples developing a sixth sense after marriage. Because at that moment - Chan was sure he knew what Minho was thinking, only because… 

Chan was thinking the exact same thing.) 

30 MINUTE WALKS

“Yo, Chan, Jeongin’s here.” Chan looks up from his workstation as Younghyun pops his head in. “Can I send him in?” 

Chan nods in affirmation, taking his headset off. Jeongin’s cram school was nearby Chan’s studio, so on the days that Jeongin had classes, Chan would head into the office so that after Jeongin got off of school, Minho could pick both of them up and they could head home together. 

Jeongin walks in a moment after, throwing his bag onto the sofa and plopping himself down in the chair besides Chan, slumping down in exhaustion. Chan laughs, petting at Jeongin’s head.

“Classes were that hard, huh?” he says. Jeongin glowers up at Chan, who laughs again at the pout on his face.

“Cheer up kiddo, it’s only twice a week. Just wait until you’re in your last year - that’s when it gets really tough.” Jeongin sighs at that, before turning his attention to Chan’s screen, his latest project still pulled up. 

“Is this the song you’re doing for that girl group?” He asks, peering over at the track. Chan nods, scrubbing it to the beginning and hovering over the play button. 

“Wanna listen? Let me know what you think too.” Jeongin brightens up eagerly at that as Chan pressed play. 

Immediately the bright song filled Chan’s studio, as Jeongin closed his eyes in anticipation. Chan smiles at the sight. Jeongin didn’t have much interest in production, but still enjoyed listening and commenting on Chan’s handmade tracks, something that Chan took with as much enthusiasm as he could. It wasn’t like he and Jeongin didn’t bond in other ways, but seeing Jeongin have some interest in Chan’s work always made his heart swell. What parent wouldn’t want their child to be interested in what they did for a living? 

The song plays for a minute more, before ending with a bright jingle. Jeongin opens his eyes, humming in approval. 

“I like it! I think it’s pretty catchy, pretty sure it’ll do well on the charts too! It seems super trendy, what all the girls in my class are into nowadays.” There was a slight wrinkle in annoyance when Jeongin said that, and Chan stifled a chuckle at the sight. Whether it was unconscious or not, he always found it hilarious at how much of an old soul Jeongin was, especially when his preference for folk and trot songs showed through. 

Regardless, it still warmed his heart to get the Jeongin stamp of approval (as Younghyun had started calling it) on a song that he would otherwise not listen to. Call Chan a fool for his (foster) son, but that was all the recognition he needed. 

He glances over at his computer’s clock, noting the time. “Ah, Minho’s about to get off work,” he realizes. Saving his work, he powers off his computer, stuffing his notebook into his bag just as Jeongin swung his own over his shoulder. 

“What do you want to have for dinner tonight?” Jeongin purses his lips as they walk out of Chan’s studio. 

“Can we get sushi at that place near the clinic tonight? Kind of craving salmon right now- oh, bye Mr. Kang! See you later!” he calls out to Younghyun, who waves goodbye back. Turning again to Chan, he continues, “Plus, I think I saw on instagram that they’re having a special. If you post on insta a picture of your meal, you get a free drink or something.” 

Chan rolls his eyes fondly, ruffling Jeongin’s hair again. “You take after Minho way too much,” he jokes, leading them over to their car and beeping it open, throwing his bag in. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jeongin hesitate, as a flash of panic goes through his eyes. 

With a jolt, Chan realizes his mistake, nearly bashing his head into the top of the car in exasperation. Usually Minho would drop Chan off and then pick the two of them up later on, but that day, Chan had a work meeting that he couldn’t get to via subway, meaning he dropped Minho off at the vet’s office instead. In their rush that morning, neither of them had remembered that Jeongin had cram school today. 

What this meant was this was probably the first time ever that it was only Chan and Jeongin in front of their car, without a third party to sit in the backseat with Jeongin. 

Jeongin was still staring nervously at the car, his hands gripping his bag handles tightly as he refused to look Chan in the eye. 

“Hey, want to take a walk to Minho’s clinic?” Chan finally says softly, taking Jeongin’s bag off his back and placing it in the car, before closing the door and beeping it locked. “It’s not that far, and it’s a nice night for a walk anyways.”

(That was a lie, and they both knew it. Minho’s clinic was at least a 30 minute walk away, and the January weather meant it was freezing.)

But Jeongin was still refusing to look Chan’s way, a red blush (of embarrassment? Uncertainty? Anger? Maybe a mix of all three?) spreading across his face. So Chan, with a comforting smile on his face and a hand on Jeongin's shoulder, guides him the direction of the clinic, as he hurriedly types a message to Minho with his other hand. 

“Besides, I need your help with the lyrics for that song, right now it’s way too cheesy and I can’t ask Younghyun, he’s about to get married,” he adds. Jeongin chuckles at that, a smile blooming. 

“Did they decide on a date yet?” he asks. “I remember Mr. Kang was complaining about how he wanted a winter wedding but his fiance wanted it in the summer instead.” 

“Oh yeah, thankfully they compromised. They found this really amazing resort that does private events, so since it’ll be too warm in the summer and too cold in the winter they decided to hold it in the spring instead.” Chan’s eyes lit up as he remembered the rest of his conversation with Younghyun. “Also, Younghyun told me that there’s this train that goes directly there and that the view is gorgeous, I think you’ll love it for sure!”

Jeongin freezes for a moment, faltering in his steps. Confused, Chan stops and looks over at Jeongin, about to ask what’s wrong, before the uneasy look on Jeongin’s face and the way his eyes were averted from Chan’s completely clues him into what happened. For the second time that day, Chan had a sobering realization over what he just said. 

Before he could panic over it however, the flash of unsettlement in Jeongin’s eyes passed, replaced with a bright smile. “That sounds great,” is his simple reply, before he changes the subject to his cram school classes. Dropping the subject himself, Chan hums his acknowledgment at Jeongin’s complaints, but his mind is elsewhere, mulling over what had just happened instead. 

The initial agreement was that Jeongin would stay in their care until his sixteenth birthday. After that point, there would be another assessment made of their living situation. The social worker on their case - Ms. Kim - had assured Minho and Chan that they would pass the test with flying colors and be allowed to continue fostering. What the real concern she had was however, was if Jeongin would want to continue staying in their home. 

According to the law, once Jeongin turned sixteen, and if he was still in the foster system, he could apply for partial emancipation, allowing him to move out of the group home and on his own with a small stipend until he turned 18. When Minho and Chan first signed the papers to bring Jeongin to their home, Ms. Kim - who had been Jeongin’s social worker since the age of seven - told them straight that this was what Jeongin had always planned to do, to claim independence from the state on his sixteenth birthday - regardless of being in a home or not. 

“That’s why fostering older children is super uncommon, and adopting them even more rare,” she had said, her tone warning Minho and Chan. “Being in the system really matures these kids, and from what I’ve seen - once they start to hit their pre-teen years, all they can think about is getting out of the system and being on their own. I don’t like it, none of us do, because they’re still kids and sixteen is hardly the age to let them loose into this world. But after years of being tossed around in this messed up system means they want to be independent of it - and well, legally we can’t really stop it.” 

Back then, maybe Chan and Minho were too naive, too intent on trying to bring Jeongin home to acknowledge the possible consequences of fostering a child who could claim independence less than a year later. 

But, now Jeongin turned sixteen in less than a month. Chan hated to even think about the possibility of losing Jeongin, but it was there, only looming closer.

When Chan RSVP-ed to Younghyun's wedding, he had put three down. But the date had been set in April. Jeongin... he turned sixteen in February.

THE SECOND MOST IMPORTANT QUESTION MINHO WOULD ASK IN HIS LIFE

Once the ball of insecurities and doubts was dropped, there was no way to stop it from rolling around Chan’s head. It was on his mind even now, as he sat cuddling with Minho, a drama playing in the background. Chan couldn’t even tell you what the name of it was, too distracted in his mind to realize that the TV had been stopped almost two minutes ago. 

“Hey, Chan, wake up, Park Seo-joon just took off his shirt.” Chan blinks, before looking down at Minho cuddled into his chest, who merely rolls his eyes. 

“Jokes on you, Park Seo-joon’s not even in this show,” he chuckles, before sitting up and turning to face Chan completely. “What’s on your mind? You’ve been out of it this whole time, they just killed the main character twice this episode and you didn’t even comment on the ridiculousness of that, so I know for sure you’re not here.” 

“Ah, sorry about that,” Minho nods his acknowledgement, waiting for Chan. “It’s just… remember when I told you about that conversation I had with Jeongin?” 

“You mean the conversation about Younghyun’s wedding that you somehow warped in your mind to be Jeongin’s refusal to us possibly adopting him.” 

Chan chose to ignore the snark, and continues, “It’s just… what if we’re just putting him on the spot by asking him? Maybe that’s why he was so uncomfortable then, because he doesn’t want to stay with us but doesn’t know how to say no. I love him and I really don’t want to let him go, but at the same time, I don’t want him to feel obligated to stay with us if he wants to be on his own instead…” 

Minho sits back on the couch and hums in contemplation. 

“I mean, it is true,” he finally says, turning back to face him. “Maybe Jeongin doesn’t want to be adopted by us, maybe he’s counting down the days until he leaves us and can finally go live on his own.”

“But!” he adds, seeing Chan's panicked look. “At the same time, maybe being adopted by us is what Jeongin wants. Maybe what you thought was him feeling obligated to stay with us is really Jeongin desperately wishing for us to adopt him instead. Maybe he’s worried that we will say no to continuing on his sixteenth birthday, and that he’ll have to go back to the group home.” 

Ah. It wasn’t like Chan hadn’t considered that possibility, but hearing Minho say it made it more real in his mind, sending a wave of calamity through him. Minho, picking up on the tensions leaving Chan’s body, pulled himself up and into Chan’s lap.

“There’s only one way we will know exactly what Jeongin wants though,” he says, tilting his head softly and smiling gently down at Chan. 

“We have to ask him.” Chan finishes, feeling the last of his insecurities leaving his body. That was the magic of Minho, Chan can’t help but think, as he leans upwards to press a soft kiss onto Minho’s lips. Minho, who - for every pessimistic thought Chan has - would be there to lift his spirits up with his headstrong and grounded optimism. 

There was still one last nigging thought in the back of his mind however. “What if… what if he really does say no?” Chan asks. Minho goes quiet for a moment.

“Well… if he says no, then we accept that it’s a no and still promise to support him in whatever way we can.” he finally replies, pressing another kiss into Chan’s temple before pulling back with a tender smile. Chan returns it, wrapping his arms around Minho’s waist and pulling him closer in.

“Oh my eyes,” Nearly jumping apart on the couch, Minho and Chan whip their heads around to see Jeongin walking in, holding his arm in front of his eyes in a mock display of shock. He lowers it upon realizing the two had noticed his arrival, a smirk on his face. 

“Please don’t have sex on the couch, that’s gross and you guys are too old for whatever weird kinks you guys have about sex in common areas.” he adds. Chan felt his soul leaving at that, while Minho chokes at the comment, his eyes glaring Jeongin down.

“Listen here you little punk,” Almost immediately, Chan felt a headache coming on, the tell tale signs of another argument starting. 

“This is our house so I will have sex wherever I want to have sex.” Minho frowns, and just as Chan thought it couldn’t get any worse, he adds, “Also, more importantly, how the fuck do you know what kinks are you’re way too young to know that shit-”

“Damn it Minho-” Chan groans, dropping his head back on the couch. “If Ms. Kim saw us now she’d probably take back the adoption papers straight away-”

“Adoption?” They all freeze. Minho elbows Chan in the stomach hard, the first sight of panic in his eyes that night, a feeling that Chan shared completely. Jeongin had completely stilled in his spot. 

No one spoke for a moment. Chan didn’t even know what he could even say. Sure, Chan and Minho had countless discussions on the idea of adopting Jeongin, but never once in the time they spent together had either ever brought it up with Jeongin - a decision that Chan was now regretting. 

Jeongin’s face was completely blank, Chan unable to read any emotions from it. But really, he didn’t need to, because Jeongin’s choked out, “Y-you want to adopt me?” that came next was enough to tell him what Jeongin was feeling. 

“Jeongin, we-” Minho stutters, eyes darting between Chan and Jeongin at rapid speed. Perhaps Chan was wrong to think of Minho as being the more assured one, because right now, neither of them seemed to know what to say. 

Jeongin saves them the trouble however, saying nothing more as he runs into his room and slams the door shut. 

Immediately, Minho turns to Chan, an accusatory look on his face. “Why the fuck did you say that?”

“It slipped out!” Chan immediately went on the defensive, though internally, he was beating himself up over it the same as Minho was doing with his eyes. “I swear- look I didn’t mean to- ''

“Seriously Chan, of all things you had to say, you just had to tell Jeongin that we were planning to-” they both let out a gasp at that moment, whipping around towards Jeongin’s closed door.  

Chan could hear Minho curse under his breath, before taking a deep breath and standing up from the couch. He grabs Chan’s hand, squeezing it tightly and, well, maybe Minho’s confidence from before was more for Chan’s sake then his own, because the tension in Minho’s grasp and anxiety in his eyes said otherwise. 

Together, they made their way to Jeongin’s door. Chan knocks lightly. 

“Hey, Jeongin?” There is no answer. “Can we… can we come in?”

Silence permeates the room, and for a moment, Chan thinks that the answer is no, but there’s a small click and the door opens slightly, allowing them both a glance at Jeongin curled up against the wall right next to it. 

No one moves for a moment, as the air grows heavy around them. A beat passes, before Jeongin shuffles in his seat and breaks the silence. 

“You want to adopt me?” he asks again, his voice softening with each syllable. “Like, really?”

Chan feels his heart skip. 

Maybe it’s the fact that Jeongin’s words don’t come out accusatory in any way. While tentative and unassured, there isn’t a hint of anger or disappointment, but rather… a touch of hope instead in Jeongin’s words. Chan watches as Jeongin’s eyes swirl with emotion, and he allows his heart to jump with optimism. 

He leans down, sitting on the floor opposite of Jeongin, and Minho slides down onto his left side, a gentle touch on Jeongin’s arm curled around his legs. “We… we do,” he says softly, tilting his head to face Jeongin head on. 

“But why?”

Why indeed. It wasn’t that Chan didn’t have an answer to Jeongin’s question, but rather, he didn’t know where to start. Somewhere between getting beat in poker by a fifteen year old, to double checking his seatbelts every time he gets in the car, from brightly colored Christmas plays to quiet 30 minutes walks side by side, even the mornings of loud banter and petty arguments  - they found Jeongin. 

“Why? Because you’re Jeongin, that’s why,” is what he finally says. Truthfully, Chan can go on for hours, days even, about all the reasons why he never wanted to let Jeongin go, but the shine in Jeongin’s eyes and growing smile on Minho’s face tells him that what he said is more than enough.

“But… Jeongin, you know that this is a two way street, right,” Minho adds on. Chan braces himself, knowing how important it was to ask Jeongin about his feelings, but also worrying about the possible answer to come.

“What we,” Minho motions between the both of them. “What we want to ask you is this. Do… do you… do you want to be adopted… by us?” 

There’s a moment of silence. Jeongin isn’t looking at either of them, his face blank as he stares at the floor. 

“You… you know…” Jeongin starts with a quiet whisper. Chan and Minho both wait with bated breath. “You know that… now it’s definitely gonna be impossible to return me right.”

Minho blanches. “Wait- shit- y-you weren’t supposed to hear that-” Jeongin cuts him off with a hug, burrowing his face into Minho’s shoulder and pulling him in tight. 

Minho’s jaw drops in slight shock, as he looks down at Jeongin’s arms around him.

“This is a one time hug, just letting you know,” Jeongin finally says, muffled. “So don’t get used to it.” 

Minho chuckles, his eyes brimming with tears as he throws his arms around Jeongin as well. He looks up at the widest grin Chan’s ever seen on Minho’s face, and the scene in front of him swells Chan’s heart as he shuffles forward and engulfs them both into his own arms.

It’s warm, and there’s a small spot of tears on Chan’s shoulder - from Minho or Jeongin he doesn’t know - but Chan’s never felt so much at home than he does in that very moment. 

(“Okay but wait we need to talk about that shit you said before-”

Chan pushes back and throws his hands up in exasperation. “ Why do I even bother-”)

BYE, I LOVE YOU

Things don’t really change after that night. Jeongin still keeps his eyes closed in the car, Minho still rolls his eyes at Ms. Park from next door, and Chan still finds himself waking up at an unholy early time every morning, willing his sleepiness away as he watches Jeongin and Minho argue about something or the other in the morning. 

But it’s unsurprising really, because if Chan really thinks about it, maybe the ending to their fostering journey had been set in stone from the beginning, from the moment Chan sat down opposing a fifteen year old boy and got his ass beat in poker. Maybe it had been even decided before then when Jeongin and Minho first met, which to this day remains a secret to Chan - who only ever gets knowing smiles and secretive giggles whenever he asks. 

Whatever it is, he supposes it was all meant to lead to this moment really, as he stifles a yawn while blearily watching Minho putter away in the kitchen, humming to himself. For a slight moment he wonders why he’s up so early again, but that thought is quickly solved as soon as a door bangs open and a blur passes through the kitchen and- 

“Mister Yang Jeongin, where do you think you’re going? Would it hurt you really to just join us for breakfast just once?” Eight years of marriage clues Chan into the sarcasm laced in Minho’s comment, but - as nearly a year of fostering would tell him - Jeongin could really care less. 

“You make waffles almost every morning and you don’t even let me put chocolate chips in the batter.” Jeongin scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Besides, I promised I’d meet some friends at the bakery this morning - they’re having a special on the chocolate croissants!” 

“How perfect, Chan loves chocolate croissants-” Chan doesn’t really, but knows better than to interrupt this. “Why don’t we go with you?” 

Jeongin scoffs - already stuffing Minho’s tupperware into his bag. “Seriously? Why would I want my parents there with me?”

“We can treat all your friends to food too-”

Jeongin is already halfway out the door at that. “No thanks.” 

Silence falls in the kitchen. 

“Don’t say anything, we just submitted the adoption paperwork last week,” was out of Chan’s mouth before Minho could even open his. “Also, he’s got a point, all you’ve made this week was waffles.” He pauses. “Not that I am insulting your food or anything, I like your banana waffles.” 

“Good answer. I was about to go submit the divorce papers too.”

“The fact that you have pre-prepared divorce papers scares me. Like, a lot.” 

They hear the door creak open at that moment, turning to see Jeongin peeking in. Minho rolls his eyes, already reaching for his wallet. 

“I swear, all you want from me is my money, how much is it-”

“Nah, Chan already gave me some money.” Minho throws an accusatory look in Chan’s direction. “I just… wanted to say bye, is all.” 

He clears his throat slightly, a small blush on his face. “So um yeah, bye. See you later.” He pauses. “I love you guys.”

With that, Jeongin closes the door gently behind him. 

Chan is speechless, his mouth slightly open. “D-did you hear that-” he turns to Minho but stops mid sentence.

Minho’s not crying outright, but Chan could see tears forming in his eyes, the smile on his face so wide despite Minho’s effort to contain it. Chan feels his own lips turning at that, as he shuffles over and wraps his arms around Minho, leaning his head onto Minho’s shoulder.  

The concept of saying bye, see you later , was Chan’s idea. 

It stemmed from the first week of living with Jeongin, where - after seeing the flighty mannerisms and guarded facade Jeongin had, Chan could only imagine the thoughts going on in Jeongin’s head, as if he wondered how long it would take for Chan and Minho to send him back to the group home. 

It wasn’t the fault of his past foster parents really, nor the fault of an overworked but still trying foster system. Really, Chan’s heart pained at the thought of how seven years of being passed between homes and orphanages could convince a fifteen year old boy - still barely on the cusps of puberty - that with each goodbye he received, came the possibility of never hearing a hello . 

So Chan started to end his goodbyes with a see you later. It was Chan’s way of promising Jeongin that hello to come, that there was indeed the promise that their paths would cross again. At first, it felt like a stupid gesture, a work around that only existed in Chan’s head but didn’t provide a bit of reassurance to Jeongin at all. 

(He once voiced this concern to Minho, who merely bopped him on the head with a spatula and called him dumb for thinking that even. The next day - Chan watched as Minho gave Jeongin a pat on the head when he went out to hang with friends, topping it off with his own bye, see you later .) 

Over time, it became a natural thing for all three of them, always ending their send offs with the promise. Chan had always figured it was more of an unconscious thing, where he had trained his brain into adding it to each bye and trained Jeongin and Minho’s mind to do the same. 

But maybe it was more than just that for Jeongin. Maybe there was some actual comfort in something as simple as a see you later to Jeongin, who had never gotten a guarantee from anyone else that he wouldn’t be left alone. 

Chan wonders if there’ll ever come a time where Jeongin truly believes it, that Minho and Chan will always be there for him, that he’ll never be left alone again, that really, their goodbye’s come with the implication of a see you later. Seven years is a long time, long enough for trauma to set in and the psychological wounds Jeongin has deep inside to never be fully healed. 

But words are more powerful than Chan would have ever thought. It’s not only their send offs that have an impact on Jeongin. It’s in every question they ask him, making sure he’s comfortable with their involvement and okay with their decisions. It’s in the playful banter they share, sometimes the only way to properly communicate with a 15 year old boy. It’s even in the unsaid words, the ones where it’s only conveyed through actions, but still enough for Jeongin to know how much Chan and Minho understand his fears and insecurities, and are willing to change their ways in order to accommodate them. 

And well, maybe it’s the culmination of all of this that leads them to this moment; where they can see cracks in the wall Jeongin has up, pieces falling down as he opens up more to them. It’s how Jeongin may not be able to unlearn the experiences of his past, but can learn instead to make new and happy ones with Minho and Chan. It’s where Chan and Minho no longer worry about a time where Jeongin may no longer be in their lives, not because of a legal document that binds them together but instead because of the emotional assurance they give to one another - far more powerful than any pen and paper.

It’s when what Jeongin says has an impact on them instead, where something as simple as an I love you holds more meaning than anything Chan and Minho could ever put into words.