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foxymoxynoona · 3 months

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After the Applause (Ch. 7)

Header and linebreaks by @awrkives

Single Dad Jimin x Female OC

SUMMARY: Jimin doesn't know how he would have made it this far after the shattering of his world without the support of his thoughtful, generous, helpful neighbor. Hanbyul has lived next to hottie Jimin and his adorable daughter for years now, long enough to remember the wife he was so devoted to and lost far too young. With each safely ensconced on their side of the brick wall of the Parks' grief, it will take an enterprising little scientist to set the stage for a second chance at love.

CW/tags: grief, prior loss of spouse/parent, comfort, explicit sex, secondhand embarrassment, sort of love triangle/web/rat's nest, fluff, cursing, dating apps, fuckboy friends, dancer Jimin, stubborn dad Jimin, stubborn pre-teen daughter, miscommunication, pining

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By Monday Sunnie was almost completely back to her normal exuberant self, but her round-the-clock caretaker Appa had simply ushered the illness from daughter to dad. He knew it for sure when walking her to school left him red-faced, breathless, and shivering. There was no use denying it, no choice except to call Hoseok and other staff to see who could cover his classes for at least today and tomorrow. The last thing he wanted to do was pass this onto his students, especially not with the recital rushing closer.

Besides, he could work on choreography for Taejoon’s idol group from home –that was a gig he didn’t want to pass off. He could really use the additional income this month. Rent was going up in two months and he’d been avoiding thinking about it because obviously he couldn’t upset their lives and move them somewhere cheaper. This was their home. It had been Subin’s home. He wouldn’t know where to hallucinate her in a new home where she’d never been before, as he did the whole afternoon he spent curled up on the couch, sweating through his fever.

Turned out he didn’t even have the energy to make himself tea, certainly not to choreograph a routine. Once again, Jimin had vastly overestimated himself.

At the last minute he realized he was not sure he could make the walk to get Sun-young. Shit! It was a short list of friends he felt comfortable asking for a favor like that: Hoseok was already covering his classes, Jungkook wasn’t answering his phone, but Taehyung did, on the second ring, like he’d been waiting for a call from Jimin. He was happy to get her but he had promised to go with Seokjin for something and could he just take Sun-young along with him for that? It sounded to Jimin like he’d said to greet the Muppets for the disco party but that was probably not right. The fever made everything fuzzy right now.

But whatever, Taehyung and Seokjin would never take her anywhere unsafe, so that was perfect. He called Sun-young’s school to have them give Sunnie the message Uncle Tae would pick her up and then collapsed on the couch and stopped thinking about anything. The fever was miserably uncomfortable. He didn’t have any adult medicine for it in the house; he prided himself on not getting sick often but damn it would have been welcome right now. Maye anti-nausea too, his stomach cramped and complained even though he wasn’t hungry.

The whole afternoon passed in a blink. He didn’t realize he’d even fallen asleep and suddenly Sun-young’s feet were pounding down the hallway. She knew the code and let herself in, Taehyung and Seokjin right on her heels.

Seokjin called from the hall, “No offense, Jimin, but I’m keeping my distance. I can’t get a restaurant of people sick!”

“I could use a few days off work,” Taehyung joked. “Lay one on me.”

Jimin only grunted at him and eased himself up to a sitting position. Sun-young grimaced.

“You’re really sick, Appa.”

“Wonder how that happened,” Taehyung teased and nudged Sun-young. But she looked genuinely upset, and that last thing Jimin wanted was for her to feel guilty. It was part of being a dad. He didn’t want her to hide that she was sick next time.

“It’s a testament to how close we are together,” Jimin insisted, the words a croak from his throat. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Thanks for keeping her this afternoon, Tae. Thanks, Jin.” He pushed up from the couch and did his best not to look wobbly. “OK, Sunnie, let’s figure out some dinner.”

“You sure you don’t want me to stick around and help?” Taehyung pressed.

“Nah, it’s fine, I’m good, just groggy because I’m waking up.”

“Ok… but hey man, call me if you need anything, ok? You know my schedule is flexible, I’m happy to help.”

Jimin thanked them both again and flinched when the door slammed shut behind them. The offers were sincere, he knew that, just like he rationally knew his friends did not mind covering his classes or helping him with his child. He had to believe that, because he knew he wouldn’t begrudge them the help. He loved to be helpful. But accepting help when he’d had to lean on them so much was hard. He didn’t feel like it was nearly balanced.

Belatedly he realized he should have asked Taehyung if he knew what was going on between Hanbyul and Jungkook. Taehyung was nosy, he probably knew exactly how long they’d been dating and how serious it was and where they met and the first time they kissed and everything.

Maybe it was better he hadn’t asked though. He didn’t know that he was in a good headspace right now to find out they’d been dating for months now and he was just dumb as a rock oblivious. Why wouldn’t Jungkook have told him? And honestly, wasn’t it right that Jungkook should have asked him first if he had feelings for Hanbyul before making his move? It was the right thing to do as friends.

“Appa are you ok?” Sunnie asked as he shuffled to the kitchen.

He waved his hand at her. “Yeah yeah, I’m good.”

But she planted herself in front of him and reached up to feel his sweaty forehead.

“You’re really sick, Appa. I know what it was like. Go lay down and I can make my own dinner.”

“You’re nine.”

“So what? I can make some things! Are you hungry? I can make something for you too.”

“I’m not hungry,” he admitted. He hesitated. If he insisted on cooking for her, was this just another way in which he was failing to recognize that she was growing up and gaining independence? Or was this leaning on his daughter in an unhealthy way, expecting her to be another adult in the house?

“We have gimbap, I can eat that. Go sleep. I’ll do my homework after I eat.”

“Ok…” He hesitated. This felt like a parenting failure. “Just get me if you need anything… I’ll just be in my room. You won’t be bothering me.”

Sun-young gave him a serious, decisive node and then pointed her finger towards his bedroom. He’d been summarily dismissed. It made him laugh, which turned into an achy coughing fit, so he did what she said and went to lie down.

Time passed unmeasured, but eventually Jimin rose from his deep sleep to the sounds of murmuring female voices and clinking cookware. For a brief moment, he found himself lost in time to years ago, when his wife might be in the kitchen cooking dinner. Especially after Sun-young was born, they’d alternated day-night shifts since their newborn daughter demanded attention round the clock; she’d been a terrible sleeper. He’d usually taken the night shift because he liked it anyway.

Just as quickly he landed back in the present time. He tried to push quickly and clumsily from the bed to find out who the hell was in his apartment with his daughter, when he heard a laugh that answered for him.

Hanbyul was here.

He slowed his step and glanced at himself in the mirror over his dresser. He looked fucked up. There was only so much he could do about it though, the sweaty pink shine wasn’t going away until the cold did. He brushed his fingers through his hair, trying to look devilishly disheveled. He was not sure that it worked. He changed his clothes quickly so at least he wouldn’t smell like stale sweat.

He pulled on his best smile as he leaned against the counter separating kitchen from dining and living room. Sun-young stood on a chair and peered through the lid of a deep pot. Hanbyul stood at the counter beside her with her loose sweater sleeves rolled up past her elbows, knife making quick work of an onion. Her hair was pulled up into a spiky high bun, a few wispy strands escaping to frame her face. Her eyes were red from the onions when she glanced up at Jimin. And smiled.

“Appa! How do you feel?” Sun-young asked very seriously again, her laughter from a moment ago deftly suppressed.

“I’m..” He wanted to say good but he didn’t want Hanbyul to take his appearance as normal. “I’ve been better,” he admitted. “But better since this morning… I think…” The scent of the onions tickled his nose and he turned quickly away to sneeze into his elbow. Suddenly Hudu leapt down from the couch and vaulted over to Jimin, jumping up against his legs, like he’d been sleeping too deeply to notice Jimin was even there.

“We’re making samgyetang,” Hanbyul assured him, as if he couldn’t have figured that out by the gingery smell of the broth. His nose was too stuffy to have caught it from the bedroom, but when Hanbyul lifted the lid on the pot so she and Sun-young could look inside, just enough of it managed to reach his sinuses for him to groan. He had no appetite but for that, he could develop one.

Hanbyul’s raised eyebrows made embarrassment rush through him.

“Oh, uh, it smells good. My nose is all f– messed up, but I could smell that– why are you here?” His voice cracked on the last note after croaking out the rest of it. Quickly he added, “You’re always welcome but we’re sick! I don’t want to get you sick too.”

Hanbyul shared a smile with Sun-young, as if they’d predicted and discussed this response. Jimin tried to crouch to pet Hudu, still spinning around his legs, but his body was too achy. He tried to get Hudu to jump up into his arms, but the dog wouldn’t. A stalemate in which neither of them was happy.

“I appreciate your concern but I think I’ll be all right. I have such a strong immune system, I rarely get sick. Don’t worry about me.”

“I asked her to come help me make soup for you,” Sun-young added.

“I see but– it’s very thoughtful but–” He spun quickly away to deliver a coughing fit into his elbow. Hudu was worried enough to scratch at his shin.

It meant he didn’t see Hanbyul come around from the kitchen until she touched his arm and held out a mug of steaming yuzu jelly tea.

“Please go rest more. Sun-young and I are just fine here.”

“She taught me how to mince garlic!”

“With a knife?!” Jimin cried, barely more than a wheeze of words.

Hanbyul tutted at him –tutted– “She’s old enough to learn how to safely cook things! I was much younger and still have all my fingers. Now back to bed, and make sure to drink that tea.”

She was so firm about it, he found his legs obeying. He stopped just through the door though and looked back. Hanbyul slid back around the counter and looked at whatever Sun-young was showing her on the counter. He knew that hopeful smile of Sunnie’s, that desperate need for acknowledgement. She beamed at Hanbyul’s praise for whatever it was. Together they lifted the lid and slid things in, four hands working together, and put the lid back on. The pot belched at them though, knocking the top askew. Both girls erupted with giggles as Hanbyul stirred and replaced the lid. Hudu sat in the middle of the rooms, as if he needed to see everyone at once. He watched Jimin and something in his eye made it look like he was about to bark and tattle on Jimin for not being in bed yet.

She shouldn’t be here. She didn’t need to be here. It was asking too much, for her to come into a sick apartment and make soup for him. Sunnie had done the asking and Hanbyul had come and he owed her so much.

Hudu barked.

“Go to bed, Park Jimin!” Hanbyul called, and Sunnie giggled and pointed, chanting, “Go go! We’ll get you when it’s ready!”

“Traitor,” Jimin mumbled to Hudu. Hudu stretched out to nap, conscience clear.

He lay in bed, as ordered. He sat up to sip the tea until only the dredges were left. He lay back down and listened to the crescendo of giggles across the apartment. They wove through his dozy dreams, swaddling him, rocking him in the rhythm of their conversation. He dreamed of seashell wind chimes on the balcony of a beachside bungalow; he dreamed of a crackling fireplace in front of three mugs of hot cocoa; he dreamed of a cool breeze caressing his skin with whispers: dance on, dance on.

He awoke to silence. The window was black with night, only by the light from the hallway could he find his phone in the sheets: 8:30. Time to get Hanbyul ready for bed. His body ached as he pushed himself up from the sweaty embrace of his bed. He felt like garbage, but slightly warmed over garbage, thanks to his nap-companion Hudu, who had jumped up into bed with him at some point. Garbage that could at least get his daughter’s school things ready for tomorrow, see her to bed, shower, and then collapse again. Maybe eat some soup, if there was any left.

He forgot to check his hair and face as he stumbled into the hall. Two figures sitting at the end of it made him do a double take. It wasn’t the ghost of Subin, though, and he wasn’t confused by a memory this time, only confused to see them there: Sun-young and Hanbyul kneeling in front of the shrine they kept for Subin by the narrow window she had always joked was for growing a single flower in. So they did grow a single flower in it, though Jimin often forgot to water it so it tended to be more dead than alive.

He paused as Sun-young’s voice carried, “Sometimes I don’t remember very much about her.”

Hanbyul made a sympathetic humming noise.

“I was only maybe six years old when she died? I just remember suddenly she lived in the hospital and Appa took me there to visit her and I didn’t like being there because it smelled bad and everyone was sad a lot.”

“It’s ok not to remember everything,” Hanbyul said gently. “You were very little and sometimes remembering someone we’ve lost can hurt a lot, I think, so our minds… hm, maybe they wrap a blanket around the memory to keep it safe for another time when it won’t hurt so much.”

“Maybe that’s why Appa doesn’t talk about her very much,” Sun-young said and Jimin felt a knife in his ribs. “It makes him really sad.” Jimin felt like they did talk about her a lot. Wasn’t Subin in almost everything they said and did? But less so lately, and that was… hard.

“I can’t imagine how hard it is to lose someone you love that much. You both are very strong. I’m glad you have each other.”

He knew he shouldn’t keep listening to this and yet he couldn't tear himself away. Was it really so bad to eavesdrop? He decided Sun-young was right; despite the shrine, they did not talk about Subin very often. He always feared speaking of her would only remind Sunnie of what she lost, what she didn’t have. It sure did for Jimin.

“I remember her hair was really soft and I would wrap it around my fingers when we read books together,” Sun-young said. “I just learned to read when she got sick and I read books to her in the hospital. She liked Hello Banana Moon and Cloud Bread. Do you know those books?”

“I don’t.”

“I think I still have them. I’ll let you borrow them so you can read them. They're really good but I haven’t read them in a long time. Maybe we can read them together.”

“I’d like that a lot,” Hanbyul said and Jimin could feel her smile even though he saw only the back of her head. The girls sat so close together, Subin’s smiling face beaming down at them from the shrine. He knew where those two books were: tucked into the cupboard beneath the candles and figurines and Subin’s photos. He’d tucked them there when she died because it was too much to read the words to Sun-young that ought to be in Subin’s voice.

But Sun-young wanted to share those stories her mother had taught her to read with Hanbyul.

The emotion was difficult to breathe around, a pair of fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, a rising tide blocking his throat.

“I don’t remember much,” Hanbyul said. “I didn’t know your eomma very well but I would see her in the hall or the mail room. She was always very polite and thoughtful. She would hold the door open if my arms were full. If someone left trash out, she would take on the task of cleaning it up, even though it wasn’t hers. One year there was ice on the stairs and our neighbor Ma Gurim who is high in years nearly slipped. Your mother called the building manager and wouldn’t stop calling until they came out to take care of the ice.”

Sun-young giggled and said, “Appa says I have her stubbornness.”

“Her resilience, I think it is. Her brightness. She seemed like she could do anything, just like you.”

“It’s not very fair that she died.”

“No, Sun-young. It’s really, really not fair.”

Sun-young let out a heavy sigh and rested her head against Hanbyul’s shoulder. If it made Hanbyul uncomfortable, Jimin couldn’t tell from her body language. After a moment she wrapped her arm around the girl’s shoulder and rubbed her arm.

Jimin didn’t want to disturb them. He felt like he would be. Anyway, he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t have said anything better than Hanbyul had and her words lingered with him as he tiptoed away to the kitchen.

It was too much to ask of a woman, wasn’t it? To come into a house that had lost one and take over being a partner and a mother. Not that it mattered anyway because Hanbyul was seeing Jungkook now but… well, it would have been too much to ask of her and that’s why it was for the best. Probably she felt incredibly awkward talking to Sun-young about her dead mother because it was an uncomfortable topic and while obviously she had navigated it beautifully, it was too much to ask.

The kitchen had been cleaned so thoroughly there was no evidence of cooking. He opened the fridge with a start in his heart that maybe they had eaten all the soup and left none for him.

“What are you doing?” Hanbyul demanded behind him. “Shoo, get out of my kitchen! Go sit down.”

“It’s my kitchen,” he glowered, and playfully demanded, “Where’s my soup?”

She squeezed behind him and bodied him away to open the oven door where a stone bowl of the soup rested, still warm. The scent of it carried such a strong sense of strength and health and rest that it nearly brought tears to his eyes. That’s it, that’s the only reason his eyes were misty.

“I’ll carry it for you, go sit.”

“It’s time for Sun-young to get ready for–”

“I know, Appa, I’m already in my pajamas. I just need to brush my teeth,” Sun-young glowered just like him, arms crossed at his doubt. “I’ll make you tea and then go right to bed.”

“We have to get your backpack ready–”

“We did that,” Hanbyul assured him. “She wants to eat school lunch tomorrow or I said I would pack her one.”

“Unnie even ironed my uniform,” Sun-young added.

Hanbyul looked embarrassed by that and clarified, “With you both sick lately they just sat in the laundry basket for too long. Sunnie told me about her fundraiser and demonstrations.”

“Appa, can unnie help us make the rice cakes? We can teach her how to make them really nice. I know Appa isn’t a good cook but he really knows how to make the best rice cakes.”

Jimin felt like he was wrapped up in a whirlwind between them as he dove into the soup Hanbyul placed before him. They’d carried on all evening without him, and Hanbyul even had Sun-young ready for the day tomorrow. He didn’t have to worry about a thing.

“I can walk Sunnie to school too, if that’s helpful,” Hanbyul offered.

Jimin shook his head and argued, “It’s not the direction of your office.”

“You know that?” Hanbyul asked, surprised.

“I see the direction you walk, it’s not mysterious.”

She grinned and insisted, “It’s not too far out of the way though. I’ll just make my coffee at home before I go instead of stopping by the cafe. It’s better for my wallet anyway.”

“I’m sure I’ll be better by the morning.”

Sun-young put her hands on her hips and said to Habyul, “I think both my parents are stubborn.”

“There was no other way you could be,” Hanbyul nodded and it made Sun-young giggle. “It’s a good thing.”

“Is it?” Jimin teased.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that and go brush my teeth,” Sunnie said and stuck her tongue out at him.

How strange to feel like a cared-for guest in his own home. Hudu had moved to the living room since Jimin left the bed and stretched out in a new nap across Jimin’s slippers, several of his toys strewn across the rug. The TV was off but low music played through the speakers.

“I’ll turn that off,” Hanbyul realized, heading for it. “Sunnie was trying to teach me to dance.”

“You seemed to do fine at the club.”

Immediately she covered her face and sighed, “Let’s never talk about that again.”

“No problem,” Jimin said and meant it. He’d like if they could never talk about him going to check on her the next morning and Jungkook opening the door as well.

While he slurped the soup and Hanbyul fiddled with the CD player and Sun-young sang loudly to herself in the bathroom as the water ran and Hudu decided to take a break from napping and work the squeaker out of his toy, Jimin got a very foreign feeling: wholeness. He felt like he was home. He was home, but he felt like it quite suddenly, like he rarely had done since the very first day he’d come home while Subin remained in hospital.

Sun-young threw her arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek and bid him goodnight. Hanbyul followed her to say goodnight and turn the light off and for a moment Jimin almost told them where the storybooks were, but couldn’t quite bring himself to it. It felt dangerous to, like if he offered her one more step further into their lives, he’d never be able to let her go.

Could she really co-exist with the memory of Subin? Was Sun-young really ok with that?

How could it seem so natural to watch her turn the bathroom light off and take Sunnie a glass of water and then scoop Hudu up for a snuggle. She ought to collapse onto the couch in exhaustion after an evening of parenting. And Jimin would collapse next to her, and drag her into his lap so they could stretch out and find something worthwhile to watch on the TV. She��d fall asleep there and he’d wake her gently later to move to–

Shit, he had to stop thinking like this. He had to. It was becoming too tragic to pine for his neighbor too late. He’d fucked up and only his fever-riddled brain was willing to admit how badly. Very badly. As she carried Hudu with her to sit in the chair next to him, Jimin had the unfortunate understanding that he might be very much in love with Hanbyul and been trying to hide it from himself.

I never know what I’m doing but you make me feel like I can figure it out. I think you belong here. Why don’t you just stay?

“I’m sorry if I massively overstepped tonight,” she said, completely at odds with his internal tragedy.

“No. No, of course not. You can’t overstep but you didn’t have to do all this–” He broke off to cough into his elbow –away from her. If he got her sick, he’d never get over the guilt.

“I’ve told you before, it’s not a big deal. I love spending time with Sun-young and I’m glad you were able to get some rest. I’m serious about walking her to school in the morning too, unless you’d rather have one of your other friends.”

“I’m sorry if she made you uncomfortable talking about… Subin.”

Hanbyul’s sincere confusion was so endearing that he felt a twinge of guilt, saying Subin’s name just as he thought damn, Hanbyul really is pretty, isn’t she? It’s crazy she never went into acting or modeling.

“Why would that make me uncomfortable?” Hanbyul asked. “I’m flattered she felt like telling me about her mother. She’s a part of you and Sun-young forever. It’s unfair she can’t be here to take care of you while you’re sick and take care of Sun-young, but I hope I honored her by stepping in for an evening.”

Jimin nodded, briefly without words.

Hanbyul gently touched the back of his hand and added, “I’m truly sorry for your loss, Jimin. I don’t know if I ever said that.”

“You did.”

“Well, good. And please don’t think you or Sun-young are ever a burden when you need help. No one is meant to do everything alone and–” She broke off as he suddenly flipped his hand, catching her palms against his. “--and I’m really happy to be here,” she said, barely a murmur as she stared at their hands. Jimin too, unsure how that had happened. It had been impulsive. It was the wrong move.

He drew in a deep, ragged breath and she pulled her hand away. He shouldn’t have. She was dating his friend. He couldn’t say he regretted it. He should have wound their fingers together, kept her there.

But what would he say? I care about you more. Quit Jungkook and be with me. I’m sorry I was slow but it’s scary, you see? I didn’t think I could do this again…

He pushed back from the table and she leapt up as Hudu jumped down from her lap. She reached for the dishes but Jimin shooed her away.

“I can manage them.”

The fact she didn’t argue seemed telling. She gathered Hudu’s things into her bag and slid her phone into her pocket and Jimin felt an absolute dread that she was leaving. He knew he’d overstepped with the touch. She had to think so, because it had felt insanely intimate to him, just that moment of their palms touching. Her cheeks flushed and he feared it was with anger.

He started to say he was sorry, but Hanbyul spoke over him with a smile that seemed sincere, “I’ll come by to get Sun-young at 7:30. Don’t argue about it, please. I told her I would so it’s very important to me that I keep my word.”

“All right then. Thank you. Goodnight, Hudu,” he said, scratching the dog’s head. “Goodnight, Hanbyul.”

“Goodnight.”

It felt awkward. He felt it. He’d made her feel awkward, and after all she’d done for him. But he didn’t know what to say to fix it, and he already felt like shit anyway, so this one time he kept his mouth shut and just locked the door behind her.

The apartment felt empty with her gone, just him and sleeping Sun-young left, like the movie had ended and there just credits rolling. There wasn’t even music playing anymore.

Jimin knew he ought to get back to his apartment quickly. It was bad enough he’d had to call in another favor, but it was only fair he cover Hoseok’s classes now that he was sick, and Sun-young had science club, and sometimes things just seemed impossible for a single parent.

But walking past the corner florist made him pause. And think. And think. He was a thinker, a planner, he shouldn’t do things impulsively because then things could go wrong and you weren’t prepared.

But things went wrong even if you carefully planned. Time was unknown and unsympathetic and always running out.

The apartment had just felt so empty without her in it, the chair she’d sat in pulled out as if still waiting for her to take her seat again. He felt like he was waiting for Hanbyul to get home from work. One evening wasn’t enough.

Was it worth the risk of losing a friendship over? Two friendships?

Park Jimin did something he never did: he let impulse take over.

He bought the flowers, a big pretty bouquet of purple and pink and white because they looked like stars and that was her name. Hanyul: Big Star.

He ignored the mailroom for now, because he was on a mission. He was going to shoot his shot. If it caused a rift with Jungkook… hopefully it could be mended. Probably it would cause only a rift between himself and Hanbyul because she’d be gracious about his unwelcome feelings and then he would lose something that was devastating him to have so little of anyway.

“Hold the elevator!” Jungkook called and dove inside.

For a moment they looked at each other, and then Jungkook’s face broke into a wide grin and he asked, “Who are the flowers for?”

“Sunnie.”

“Ah. Right.”

They’d forgotten to push the button, so Jungkook did.

“You here to see Hanbyul?” Jimin asked, wishing it wasn’t true.

“Yeah.”

“Ah.” Silence as the elevator shimmied to life. “So uh… that. How did that happen? Is it serious?”

“Is what serious?”

Leave it to Jungkook to make Jimin spell it out, the ass: “You and Hanbyul.”

“We’ve got a real connection. Why do you ask? You in love with her or something?”

Thank fuck for his careful control of his face.

Jimin gave him a playful grin and assured him, “No, no, I’m just looking out for her. I’m just asking if you’re serious about her.”

“You should fight me for her,” Jungkook grinned back.

Jimin’s expression twitched as he said, “I’m not… I’m not fighting you for her.” Gone was his foolish plan to sweep her out from under Jungkook.

Fuck, what an awful choice of words.

“Well not physically, I’d beat your ass,” Jungkook laughed. “I mean confessionally.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Are you at least going to give her a choice? I mean, I’m pretty serious competition, it’d be pretty hard for anyone to– but hey, maybe it’s your lucky day,” Jungkook said and slapped him on the shoulder.

“A choice… between us?” Jimin’s heart leapt into his throat with hope. Probably Jungkook was just fucking with him, but if he was actual casual enough to give Hanbyul a no-strings choice… well, would she really choose the single dad over hot young bachelor Jungkook… but… but maybe Sunnie could help him make a powerpoint and she’d find it charming…

Jungkook sighed, “You don’t like that idea? That sucks. Listen, don’t break her heart or anything, ok? She’s a really good friend of mine and–”

“No, stop, that’s what I was going to say!” Jimin forced a laugh, stepping off the elevator after him. “I just wanted to say I’m happy for you and that I–”

“Well I’m not dating her but maybe you should before someone else does, if you’re so bothered by it.”

Before Jimin could fathom a response, Jungkook pushed the buzzer at Hanbyul’s door.

“What, what do you mean you’re not–”

The door dragged open to reveal Hanbyul –in shortie shorts and a t shirt with a faded Minnie Mouse on it and stripey flower socks. Her expression shifted at once from neutral to surprise as she stared at Jimin.

Jungkook plucked a phone charger from her hand.

“Hey Hanbyul, thanks, Jimin’s got something to say to you, bye.”

He promptly turned and walked back towards the elevator.

“Uh…”

It took Hanbyul half a minute longer than it should have to realize Jungkook had retrieved his abandoned phone charger and departed. Her attention remained leveled at Jimin’s face in an attempt to not die of embarrassment: she’d just woken up from a gloriously braless and pantsless nap to a message from Jungkook saying by process of elimination he thought he’d left his phone charger at her place and was on his way over. Her offer to leave it at Jimin’s was too late; he never responded and she had time to do nothing but drag on shorts before the buzzer at her door revealed Jungkook.

And Jimin.

He looked so much healthier after his illness –thanks in part, she hoped, to the soup. He looked even better since she’d seen him, when she picked up Sun-young and walked her to school before peeling off to haul ass to work.

And then Hanbyul spent the next two days avoiding the Parks because she wanted it too much. It brought her too much happiness to be over there, doing simple domestic things with them like that. It was torture not to kiss Jimin’s flushed forehead and brush his hair back and really take care of him. It was unkind to herself and possibly to Sun-young to let herself get so close to the little girl who did not deserve to lose anyone else from her life.

The recruiter had contacted her via email and wanted to schedule an official interview; he promised to call her soon. Hanbyul had done a freaking out dance around the apartment. Then whipped her bra off and fallen into bed for a stress nap.

And now Jimin was standing at her door, seeing her in this disheveled space, holding out a bouquet of beautiful purple flowers. She did not understand and only took them because he seemed to want her to hold them for him.

“They’re for you,” he explained, as if she was an idiot (she was.) “To thank you.”

“Jimin, I told you, you have to stop thanking me. I’m going to start taking it as an insult.”

“Wha?”

“You didn’t have to get me flowers. But they’re beautiful, so thank you.” She loved how gracious that sounded, as if she could be cool about getting flowers, as if it happened all the time (it didn’t.)

“They’re stars, like your name. I don’t know what they’re actually called,” he admitted, laughing at himself.

“Thank you, I’ll put them in water right away.” She stepped into the apartment, expecting that was goodbye, but Hudu foiled her plan, darting into Jimin’s arms –or maybe Jimin had already wedged his body in to follow her through. That brat (Hudu, but also maybe Jimin.)

“One second!” she called over her shoulder and disappeared into her bedroom to frantically drag on a sweatshirt. It was going to be weird if she completely changed, wouldn’t it? But she was so unkempt. Would it be weird to put on pants?

She was taking too long. She hurried back to find Jimin going through her cabinets, looking for a vase. The only one was a heavy crystal thing she had borrowed from her mother a year ago because her mother had been grievously disappointed the visit before that Hanbyul didn’t have flowers on her table.

“Perfect, right Hudu?” He tossed a smile down to the pup, and then over his shoulder at her, and she felt simultaneously like a queen and a bug. He looked like that, smiling at her when she looked like this. It didn’t make her feel better that he’d recently looked sick. He had been adorable.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she said.

“How are you? Not coming down with anything?”

Actually she’d had a slight headache all day and her throat felt scratchy that morning, but she wasn’t going to tell him that and make him feel guilty for accepting the help. It was probably nothing. A sudden onset of spring allergies or something.

“I’m good.”

She joined him at the counter but let him do the work of untying the bouquet, snipping the stems with her kitchen scissors and arranging them artfully in the vase.

“Wow, you’re really good at that.”

“I learned some arranging tricks when I was younger because it was cheaper to buy bulk flowers and make our own arrangements for performers than buying the bouquets.”

Her phone rang –a godawful thing because she never had the ringer on and didn’t even know what it was set to– and she gasped as she reached for it, but it was only her sister so she sent it to voicemail. She couldn’t risk missing this call!

“Ouch,” Jimin laughed. “Who deserved that?”

“My sister… I’ll call her back later.”

“Oh I don’t mean to stop you–”

“No, she’s calling to ask about–” Hanbyul broke off. Was this the sort of premature news one gave a neighbor-acquaintance-friend? “I might curse it,” she admitted.

Jimin raised an eyebrow but kept his gaze on the flowers he futzed with as he asked carefully, “Curse what? Not your um, relationship with Jungkook I hope?”

“I have a job interview– uh, wait, what relationship with Jungkook–?”

“A job interview! A new job? Or the promotion at your current place?”

“I don’t have a relationship with Jungkook,” she said. “A friendship, but that’s all.”

Jimin nodded and smiled. He pushed the vase towards the center of her counter and assured her, “It’s none of my business.”

“Why, did he tell you something else?”

“No, he said the same,” Jimin shrugged.

“When we went out clubbing he had too much to drink and crashed here. Apparently he takes a phone charger with him when he goes clubbing in case he goes home with someone.” Hanbyul shook her head. She couldn’t imagine leading that kind of life. He had only laughed at her advice: maybe stop having sex the same day you meet a woman if you want deep and lasting romance so badly! Then he’d asked how deep and lasting romance with Jimin was going and she had threatened to block him.

“That he does.”

“You met someone that night too,” Hanbyul recalled –in painstaking detail. She tried to be light as she teased, “Any exciting dating plans? Someone you met on the app?” She had on the exact same expression she knew she wore when trying to make bad news sound like good news at work to the higher ups.

He hissed through his teeth and admitted, “I haven’t even finished setting up my profile. And if you’re teasing me about who I think you are, she’s on the funding board for a scholarship group my dance school works with so I had to play nice. I didn’t realize you’d sneak away on me.”

“I didn’t sneak.”

“Hm.”

“I was way too drunk to be sneaking,” she admitted. “I don’t go out much like that.”

“Me neither.”

“It was fun though.”

“Would have been more fun if we’d actually gotten to dance,” Jimin said. Hanbyul could have sworn there was a note of longing to his voice.

“You don’t want to dance with me,” she assured him. “I can’t dance at all.”

“That’s ok.”

“No, I mean it. Your daughter suggested maybe I’d do better at yoga and asked if I understand what the beat of the music is.”

Jimin laughed and covered his eyes, “Oops. She’s a sharp-shooter sometimes… But no one is a lost cause. I saw you dancing at club and you did fine. Anyone can learn with a little help, I believe it.”

What were they talking about it again?

“Maybe next time. If there is a next time.”

“I hope there’s a next time,” Jimin said. He looked to the side in thought, then shook his head and admitted, “Honestly I was kicking myself. I don’t know why I hadn’t already introduced my friends to you. Of course you get along with all of them.”

“Why would you introduce your neighbor?” she laughed. Try to keep it light. This conversation felt strange for a reason she couldn’t quite put her thumb on. It felt serious, like an air of goodbye had settled around them in a haze.

She hadn’t even done the interview yet!

“You’re not just my neighbor,” Jimin corrected. “Ma Gurim is just my neighbor. You’re at least a close friend.”

“At least,” she immediately repeated.

He looked surprised by his own word choice, panicked almost, and clarified, “Not just anyone will come over and take care of me and my daughter when I’m sick.”

“Get over yourself, it’s not an inconvenience,” she teased to cover the way her heart fluttered high in her chest. At least a close friend.

“Get over myself,” he repeated with a laugh. “It’s true, I have an ego sometimes.” He ran his fingers through those blond locks.

Her phone rang. What timing! She wanted to follow that train of thought: what did he mean by ego? Why was he smiling like that? He wasn’t flirting with her, was he? He must still be sick.

But interview terror temporarily outweighed Jimin confusion, and she answered her phone before it could ring a third time. Jimin’s eyes got big and he shirked his shoulders as if he shared her excitement and didn’t leave.

The recruiter was straight-forward but polite on the phone. There was interest in her resume and application letter. They would like to meet her for an afternoon of interviews. There would be several rounds for this more senior position, she must understand the selection process was thorough to ensure a good fit, which date from a list of available would work for her? Did she have any professional references she could provide for contact?

Hanbyul flew around the kitchen but Jimin was the one to find the pen and paper for her. She rattled off two former colleagues she had already messaged about acting as references. She could make the date work –though it worried her, taking time off from her current job to interview, like they would know she was up to something and fire her, and then she might not get the new job, and have no job.

By the time she hung up, her heart was racing as if she’d been interviewed already. She hoped the man couldn’t tell over the phone.

“A new job,” Jimin said. “That’s… exciting.”

“It might be,” she agreed. “If I get it.”

“They’d be fucking crazy to snooze on you. Where is it? You didn’t say…”

“Oh, well the company has several branches. One is here but there’s also one near my parents, in the town I grew up in. My sister’s about to have her baby, you know, and–”

“Right, yes, I understand.” He was nodding a lot.

“So now I have an interview,” she breathed out.

“It can be hard to live away from family,” he continued. “I understand why you’d want to move back near them.”

Yes, there were plenty of reasons to go. She had told the recruiter her childhood hometown was her branch preference. It should be her branch preference. Her parents were getting up in years and she would want to know her sister’s baby. She’d set out for Seoul years ago and what did she really have to show for it? Hudu was not an anchor.

“What made you stay here instead of moving back to be near your parents?” she asked.

“Ah, it was a hard choice,” he admitted. “They wanted me to. Sometimes I’ve wondered if it was the right choice. But I have family here too, so does Sunnie. Subin’s parents are here and I didn’t want her to lose that connection with her mother’s family. But also Taehyung and Jungkook and Hoseok, Yoongi, everyone, they’re here. They’re my family too. We have a home, I have my dance school, Sunnie loves her school.”

“That all makes sense.”

“For a long time I wondered if I just stayed here because it’s where I was before… but this is my life. Everything, almost everyone I care about is here.”

Hanbyul was the one nodding a lot now. She looked at the pretty flowers Jimin had brought her, just to say thanks for doing a thing she wanted to do all the time. She knew with absolute clarity that she couldn’t go into a job interview without knowing once and for all whether she too had a family anchoring her here. For a moment the image of her with him felt so real she could reach out and touch it. She needed to know if the illusion would dissolve at the brush of her fingertips.

It was crazy to wonder. It was wistful thinking. She was crazy fucking delusional.

But she had to know for sure and if there was nothing, if she was completely imagining the flirting, if he just wasn’t ready or wasn’t interested in welcoming her specifically into his life well… well that was good to know.

“I don’t have a relationship with Jungkook,” she said, feeling like someone else was speaking the words. “But um, I did date Namjoon for a little bit.”

Jimin’s brow pinched in confusion as he repeated, “Namjoon? You already know Namjoon? When did you date–”

“Recently,” she admitted.

Jimin’s eyebrows raised before he said slowly, “Ohhhh. No, really? You’re the woman who… at the club, that’s why…”

“I guess that’s me.” She twisted her mouth, not sure what to say about Jimin knowing her by action. Why was she admitting this again?! “I, um… it wasn’t serious, at least I didn’t think so. It was nice, I mean he’s nice, he’s a good guy, but it just didn’t…” She gestured, wishing Jimin would finish the sentence for her and read her mind. Alas, he did not.

“You just ended it that day we went clubbing.”

“I’d been putting it off. I sort of didn’t know if there was even anything to end, I mean we weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend or anything, we only went on a few dates really but– I admit, I didn’t handle it well, I should have called it off earlier. I didn’t know what to do because…”

She hated that she couldn’t read Jimin’s mind either. His expression was inscrutable.

“I have feelings for someone else,” she said and felt like a good ten years of her life drained away with the words leaping from her tongue. She didn’t feel in control of that tongue. “I thought it would be better to meet someone else and move past those feelings.” She swallowed and cleared her throat. Her nose was getting stuffy. “But it didn’t work and it wasn’t fair to Namjoon.”

“This someone else doesn’t return your feelings?”

She studied his face, desperate to tell if he understood what she was saying. She didn’t think she could be any more transparent, it would kill her. But she had to be. There wasn’t room for error and even though he was watching her so carefully right now, leaning forward, mouth open in that thoughtful pout he had, she couldn’t tell if he understood. She needed him to understand. She could be brave.

“No,” she admitted. “At least I don’t think so.”

“How could he not?” Even just that, even if he said or felt nothing else, Hanbyul felt warmed to her soul.

Her smile flickered as she tried to joke, “I know, I’m a catch! But I’m still honored just to be neighbor Han–” He stepped forward suddenly and caught her face, cutting her off with a kiss. His lips pressed to hers, the softest caress, softer than her wildest dreams. A second kiss followed, harder, more certain, but still unhurried, like he had all afternoon to spend dragging that plush lower lip of his against hers. He kissed the ten years back into her lungs and then some; she felt sunlight seep from his fingertips into her jaw. She was drowning in him.

“He does return your feelings, Hanbyul,” he murmured, their noses brushing. “He’s just an idiot.”

“He’s not an idiot,” she argued. “He’s… careful.”

“So careful he may have missed his chance.”

What a silly fear from a silly, silly man. She slid her hands slowly up his chest, curious and shy at the strong curve of muscle firm behind the fabric. His neck was so warm beneath her palms. It felt scandalous to touch him so much, to hold him so close, to feel his hands ghost down to her waist, his fingertips nudging her closer.

“It’s not too late at all,” she whispered. “Not unless…” Hudu’s cold nose poked her calf and she startled. Leave it to her dog to nose in on the most romantic moment of her life because he couldn’t stand whispering.

“Unless what?” Jimin asked cautiously, as he leaned away to look in her face. Hudu barked and Jimin’s serious expression cracked into a smile as Hudu leapt up and scratched at his thigh for attention. As if demanding ok now what about me, where’s my kiss?

God Jimin was even more beautiful up close, and now she knew what those lips felt like pressed to hers, and no words could do them justice. It didn’t seem real. Even his proximity didn’t seem real. It made her forget what she was saying until he threw a toy from the counter to distract Hudu and then pretended like they hadn’t had that interruption.

“Unless what?” he repeated.

“I just told you that I dated your friend. We, um, slept together….” Her face felt like it was on fire from the combination of kiss and confession. Double confession. Not the greatest combination of confessions.

Jimin actually rolled his eyes and sighed, “Yeah, I figured as much, I don’t need a play by play. But I kind of have a past too. I was married and she died. I have a daughter.”

“I know that.”

“And that’s not a dealbreaker for you?”

“No, of course not,” Hanbyul said, not understanding how it could be.

“Then why would your past be a dealbreaker for me?”

“Well, it’s a very recent past…”

He shook his head, grinning, his earring dangling, and laughed, “I don’t care.”

“Really?”

“I think people are lucky if they get one chance at happiness in life. If I get another chance… I’m not going to let anything get in the way of it. Definitely not jealousy about you dating someone else before me. I can only be mad at myself for waiting so long, right?”

The magnitude of what he’d said was not lost on her. Another chance at happiness. That was… big. Bigger than a little crush, certainly bigger than anything casual thing she and Namjoon had talked about. For Jimin to speak so openly and optimistically about a future with her only moments after kissing her…

She did it, she stole another kiss. She wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of her happiness, either.

Then she gasped and laughed into her hand, “God, the first time you kiss me and I’m dressed like this!”

“I like it,” he immediately argued. “It’s cute. You’re very cute dressed like this.”

“I was taking a nap waiting for that call–”

He brushed the hair tenderly back from her face and instantly silenced her. The self-deprecation died on her lips because he looked at her like that. His fondness was transparent. How could she not feel radiant? Surely he’d never looked at her like that before, she couldn’t have missed it. The light touch of his fingers sent a shiver down her spine. Park Jimin was a dangerous charmer and somehow she was the object of his affection.

Impossible.

“Hanbyul,” he said her name lowly.

“Mm-hm.”

“Your face is very warm.”

“I’m…” She trailed off and pouted that he would make her say it. “I’m flustered.”

“I think you have a fever.”

“No, I don’t…”

“Are you sure you feel well?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “Really.” He pressed his cold hands to her cheeks and her forehead and her neck and she flinched, the muscles there stiff.

He narrowed his eyes at her and accused, “Did I get you sick and you didn’t tell me?”

“It’s probably just allergies.” She felt a jolt of worry. Would her being sick cause Jimin extraordinary distress because his wife had died?

He cradled her face. He looked at her so sweetly.

And ordered, “Get your buns to bed. It’s my turn to take your child for the evening. I’ll bring you stew.”

“But…”

“Don’t worry, I won’t cook it. I’ll order it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” he insisted. “And not just because I got you sick but because taking care of you isn’t a burden to me either. It’s what good neighbors do.”

“Jimin!”

He snickered and then kissed her again, as if he couldn’t believe they did that now either. She was completely cowed into obeying his order to bed. He cared about her. He wanted to take care of her. And also to tease her, what a brat! She adored him.

“We’ll talk more about this later,” he promised, brushing his nose against her forehead. “If you promise I’m not too late, I can be patient for a little bit longer.”

“Is this just a fever dream?” she murmured. Was Park Jimin really saying these things to her?! She felt like she’d hit her head and woken up in a drama.

“So you admit you have a fever.”

“No! Maybe… I’ll get my thermometer.”

She did. And Jimin brought over soup and kept Hudu, like he’d promised. And by the time Hanbyul had finished squealing over the phone at her sister –with very little space for her sister to contribute anything– her voice was shot and her nose was stuffed too much to even sniff her pretty flowers Jimin had brought her.

Did he really mean it, that he cared for her too? What did this mean for them? He hadn’t asked her out but said they would talk more later… Should she ask him out or wait for him to ask her out? Should she ask both of them out? Would Sun-young figure out something was off? Would it be upsetting for her? That child was crazy smart, she would definitely figure something out and ask Hanbyul on the spot and what was she supposed to say? I spiked a fever because your appa kissed me.

Being patient was hard. Harder than Jimin had anticipated. He had thought that kissing Hanbyul and admitting to her that he had feelings would bring him peace but instead it drove him fucking crazy because here they were hovering in this limbo space and she was sick. His fault! She’d cleared caught it taking care of him, and all he could do was take her soup and walk Hudu for her. It wasn’t nearly enough, not compared to how much she had done to take care of Sun-young. Definitely not as much as he wanted to do. He could see her shoulders ached with the fever; how badly he wanted to rub them for her. She was flushed and sweaty and he wanted to brush her hair back –in fact he did, but that felt like as much as he could do for now.

She’d confessed first. God, he respected her so much for that. He’d definitely been about to chicken out. In hindsight he appreciated Jungkook putting him on the spot, but it didn’t escape him that, secretly, if she hadn’t said it first, he might have run away. He wanted to be brave, he did, but he felt so hopelessly out of his depth here. He didn’t think he could be trying this again with anyone but her, only Hanbyul, because she would be patient if he fumbled a bit. He truly believed that.

But they hadn’t had a chance to talk again because she was sick and he had promised to be patient, and he didn’t want to pressure her in case she took it back, if he harassed her. It scared him for her to be sick. He would be inclined to hover. He didn’t want to scare her off already.

Because now that this door was open, maybe open, if Hanbyul meant what she said and hadn’t just been delirious with fever…

His heart raced every time he walked by Hanbyul’s door. When he buzzed to ask if Hudu wanted to go out again, he felt like a tongue-tied teenager again.

Sun-young seemed to just accept that they’d been taking Hudu on walks for the last two days as if it was something they’d always done. She held Hudu’s leash and led Jimin on a path around the park that was clearly familiar to her and Hudu both.

“This is where unnie goes when we walk,” Sun-young informed him as they set out on a bigger circle of the park. “We go to the cafe and she buys me hot chocolate.”

“Hudu goes in with you?”

“He’s a very good dog,” Sunnie assured him, which of course he knew. Jimin suggested they go, since she was clearly leading him there anyway, and listened with bemused interest as Sun-young told him facts she’d learned about dogs from a book at school, and how dogs were bred for jobs, and how she wondered what job Hudu was bred for.

“I think he’s a mutt,” Jimin said.

“That’s not very nice!”

“No, it’s not an insult. He just isn’t a purebred.”

“So?”

“No, I know, it’s not a bad thing,” Jimin insisted. “But purebreds are the dogs who were bred for a specific job. Mutts just… happened.” Because animals will be animals…

“Well I think Hudu would be very good at a job,” she said, and crouched down to scratch his ratty brown fur. “He can do anything he puts his mind to.” Hudu looked thrilled at her praise and nodded and licked the air in front of her, tail thumping against the pavement.

“Just like you.”

“That was cheesy,” she teased. “I wish Hudu was our dog.”

Jimin swallowed and nodded and casually suggested, “Well, he’s our good friend’s dog, so it’s kind of the same.”

“It’s not the same at all. If he was our dog he would live with us but right now we have to go all the way down the hall to see him.”

“Mm-hm,” Jimin hummed. Yeah, tell me about it. He knew it was too soon to talk to Sun-young about this thing that might be happening, that he might be going to date Hanbyul. He didn’t know what that meant, much less could he explain it to his daughter. It might mean nothing. Hanbyul might change her mind. They might go out on a few dates and she’d decide it wasn’t working. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself, just because he was excited. Having a girlfriend wasn’t like adopting a dog, you didn’t just fill out some paperwork and they were yours forever.

“Appa why is your face all red?” Sunnie giggled. Yah, because I thought the word ‘girlfriend’ about Hanbyul. It was stupid to feel so giddy about it, like some deep slumbering part of him was creaking to life. They hadn’t even gone on a date yet. Hudu snipped at buds pushing through the ground in the flower beds lining the sidewalk and that was exactly how Jimin felt. He was waking up. Hanbyul made him feel like he was blossoming after a long, very hard winter.

“I’m just cold,” he muttered.

“It’s not cold at all,” she insisted, and did a little spin on the sidewalk. It killed him how graceful she was and turning her back on dance but it was her choice. OK. He was living with it. “Hey we should start planning the rice cakes you signed us up to make for the fundraiser, huh? Do you know what science demonstration you’re doing yet?”

“Not yet. Let’s get hot cocoa to warm you up,” Sunnie suggested. Jimin wondered if that was what Hanbyul usually said; the phrase struck him as odd coming from his nine year old daughter.

Hudu was pulling them that way too, so Jimin went along for it. She was right, it wasn’t that cold, it was actually very beautiful out this early April evening. Hanbyul liked winter but he knew she liked spring too, she would love walking in this right now, just as the cherry blossoms were reaching their peak. It was criminal she was stuck inside.

“Maybe if Hanbyul feels better this weekend we can see if she’ll go on a picnic with us to see the cherry blossoms,” he suggested.

“Because you just want her to cook for us?” Sunnie gave him a stern glare.

“What? No! I’ll cook.”

“You want to make her sick again?!”

“Hey!” he scowled, and pinched her cheek. She giggled and batted him away, but then grabbed his hand and wrestled with it before there was actually any space between them. He wrestled right back as they waited for the light and Hudu leapt around them, yipping like he was tattling. Jimin won by wrapping his arm around Sun-young and pulling her into his side for a stolen hug which she, breathlessly, conceded.

“Didn’t we go on picnics to see the cherry blossoms with Eomma when I was a baby?” Sun-young asked.

Jimin froze.

“We’ve gone other years,” he said slowly. Yes, it had been an annual tradition, as it was for most families. They’d missed the year after Subin died, because he couldn’t handle it. Maybe they’d missed the year after too? “Seokjin and Namjoon went with us last year.” He watched her as they waited, anxious about why she had thought of going with Subin and not with their other friends after he’d suggested it with Hanbyul. Had she already picked up on something special about Hanbyul going along, about his maybe budding relationship with Hanbyul? Was she already feeling like Hanbyul was encroaching on Subin’s place as her mother?

“Uncle Seokjin is a good cook too,” Sunnie mused. “If you invite him and unnie and Uncle Yoongi we can eat so much.”

Jimin laughed awkwardly.

How the fuck was he going to talk to Sun-young about Hanbyul? He ought to wait until things progressed with Hanbyul, until he was sure she was sure there was a future there. This could be deeply distressing for Sun-young, him starting to date. Especially someone Sun-young cared about so much. It could ruin her relationship with Hanbyul, she could lose another very important person in her life if it was too soon for her. The progress he’d made with Sun-young could be undone. This thing that he wanted so badly might be the worst possible thing for his daughter… He couldn’t do anything to hurt her… Maybe a counselor could help? He was selfish, he wanted it all, but he also genuinely believed Hanbyul would be so good for Sun-young. Fuck, was he getting ahead of himself? But they were a package, he couldn’t be with someone who wouldn’t be a positive force in his daughter’s life, who his daughter didn’t absolutely love–

“Appa aren’t we going to cross?” Sun-young sighed noisily and then laughed at him as he hurried to lead her and Hudu across before it changed. He was sweating now. Was it better to wait to say anything until he and Hanbyul had been dating a while or was Sun-young going to figure it out no matter how they tried to hide it and be hurt he’d tried? But she was a child. But what if she was mad. But obviously he couldn’t tell her something like this when nothing had even happened yet, and might even not happen if Hanbyul thought better of it before he managed to ask her out.

“Ok Hudu, be really good in here,” Jimin warned the dog, despite Sun-young insisting he knew how to behave –as if implying Jimin was the wild card here.

It was a cute little cafe, just a nice little local place, not too busy but busy enough to be a reputable place. A curved green awning hung over the door and there were cherry blossoms painted on the window. The decor was simple and clean, dark wood in the seating area and crisp white around the counters and coffee machines.

Sun-young marched right up to the line at the counter, Hudu’s leash tighter around her hand to hold him close, like she must have seen Hanbyul do. It was sweet, seeing this glimpse into what Hanbyul and his daughter did without him.

When it was their turn, the older woman at the counter smiled at Sun-young and asked, “Oh, you’re not with your eomma today?”

A jolt ran through Jimin. He was used to this –people questioning where his wife was, other mother’s asking to speak to Sun-young’s mother, teachers assuming Subin would be the one to volunteer for class things. But worse, he realized with a shock that the cafe woman thought Hanbyul was Sun-young’s mother. This preyed instantly on the fears he had just been living, as if the universe reached down to pluck them out of his brain and bring them into the real world.

“Oh, I–” Jimin began just as Sun-young chirped, “This is my appa! Can we get two hot cocoas?”

Jimin was stunned by the graceful way she evaded the question and only nodded along as Sun-young picked out two pastries as well, and then led him to a table by the window, explaining, “We like this table the best so we can watch people in the park.” Hudu curled up beneath Sun-young’s chair and waited patiently for her to pass down a spoon of whipped cream. She sang, “Who likes whipped cream? Who do? You do, Hudu!”

Jimin blew on his hot cocoa and tried to find the words.

“Um… Sunnie, you handled that very well,” Jimin eventually mustered. He watched her closely, waiting for any sign she was distressed at this reminder of the fact she didn’t have a mother, or confusion around Hanbyul’s role in her life.

Sun-young looked thoughtful before laughing, “I thought you meant giving Hudu whipped cream! You mean ordering our drinks? I was practicing what to say before we came in here because unnie orders for us but she tells me to order sometimes too.”

“No, I meant… the confusion from the woman about Hanbyul…”

“Oh that’s nothing. People think unnie is my eomma a lot,” Sun-young informed him. “Well, not a lot, but sometimes people in the park or here think that.” She looked at the ceiling thoughtfully a moment, licking whipped cream off her upper lip, then asked, “Are you mad I didn’t tell her the right thing? I usually tell people the right thing but if you tell someone who doesn’t really know you that your mom is dead, they feel really bad about it. I didn’t want to make the woman feel bad when she’s just being nice. She works here a lot and unnie always talks to her.”

Jimin curled his hands around the cup and insisted, “I’m not saying you have to say anything. I know exactly what you mean.”

“You do?”

“People don’t know how to respond when you say something sad, like that your eomma is gone. It’s thoughtful of you that you didn’t want to make her feel bad but it’s ok to correct them still, even if it makes them feel bad for a moment.”

“Oh. You wanted me to?”

“No, I mean that… I don’t want you to think you need to go along with something that makes you feel sad or bad just to not make the other person feel a little awkward,” he rephrased.

“It didn’t make me feel bad,” Sun-young said. She set her cup down and had a dollop of whipped cream on her nose which she tried to get off with her tongue before giving up and using the back of her hand before he could find a napkin. “She just doesn’t know me. Why?” Suddenly Sun-young looked worried. “You think it’s bad?”

“No no. You’re right that she doesn’t know you. I just meant it’s ok if it does make you feel sad, or if it bothers you for someone to think Hanbyul is your eomma and you want to correct them.”

Sun-young stretched her tongue out to get whipped cream off the edge of her cup before saying, “No, I don’t mind.” If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was far more interested in whipped cream than this conversation.

“No? Ok…”

“Sometimes she kind of acts like an eomma anyway,” Sun-young continued. “Like she does some things my real eomma would do if she was here.”

Every muscle in Jimin’s body clenched.

“Is that… ok?”

Sun-young couldn’t have looked more casual with her cheek on her hand as she scrunched her eyebrows and answered, “Yeah, why not? Then you don’t have to do everything.”

“I don’t mind doing everything.”

“You can’t do everything,” Sun-young insisted and gave him a look like he ought to know this. “It’s not that I like her more than you, you’re still my appa. But she’s a girl too and she does some things differently and I think it’s better having her around.”

“Yeah?”

“I get to see her so much lately, I mean until she got sick but you said it’s just a cold.” She gave him a quick look like a sudden fearful thought occurred to her.

“It’s just a cold,” he confirmed. “She got sick coming over when I was sick.”

“How did she get sick from you?”

“Hey that’s what happens with contagious colds,” he quickly insisted, afraid where her questions might lead her. “I didn’t do anything, that’s just how germs work. Just like it’s not your fault I got sick after you were sick. You’re into science, don’t you know about germs?”

“A little bit.” She began to rattle off things she knew about germs, peppering him with questions, so clearly unbothered by this entire conversation. Jimin felt himself start to thaw out. Surely it wouldn’t be that easy. It had only been a few years since Subin died. Sun-young’s feelings could change quickly if Hanbyul actually became a more official presence in her life. She was a little girl with such a little girl understanding of the world and relationships…

But she was growing up too. Maybe he was underestimating her. Again.

Once their pastries and hot cocoa were gone and Hudu was getting restless, Sun-young asked, “Maybe we should take a brownie home for unnie so she’s not sad we came here without her.”

“That’s a good idea. Do you know what she likes?”

“Definitely.” Sun-young made the selection, and the woman packed it up carefully, extending her sympathies when Jimin explained Hanbyul was sick. He didn’t fix the misconception earlier. It was wrong not to. He perpetuated a lie. He was pretending something, trying it on, something he didn’t have any right to yet.

He felt the twinge of discomfort in his heart. Were things moving too quickly? Was it too soon? He had promised to love Subin his whole life, and now here he was letting this cafe woman believe that Hanbyul was his wife, Sun-young’s mother, all the things that Subin had actually been.

But alongside it was this fresh, slightly raw, new feeling. Like maybe those clothes could fit in time. Not yet, it was foreign and uncertain and scary but… but maybe he could get used to it. If Hanbyul could be patient with him

He had a feeling she would be.

“Maybe you can get unnie flowers too,” Sun-young suggested as they passed a woman selling bouquets on the corner as they crossed back to the park.

“I gave her flowers just a couple days ago.”

“Really?”

“Uh… yeah, you know, to thank her for helping out so much while I was sick. But then she was sick so I don’t think she can even enjoy them. Her nose isn’t working.”

“Maybe you should just ask unnie out on a date again.”

Jimin thought for sure he’d misheard her. He tripped on the curb as Hudu leapt ahead, barking at a squirrel. Sun-young dropped the leash and cried out, but Hudu immediately stopped and trotted right back, waiting patiently for Sun-young to pick the leash up again.

“What did you say?” Jimin asked, clearing the cough from his throat.

“Don’t you like her?”

“Hanbyul-ssi?”

“Yes.” Sun-young looked up at him with her big dark eyes, waiting expectantly.

“Of course, what’s not to like about her?” he returned, trying to sound casual.

“I know, and I think she likes us too and you already took her flowers so… I think it’s backwards? But I don’t really know anything about dating. I think you take her to see a movie now,” Sun-young suggested. As if she was really scraping her knowledge here to help her poor old appa who didn’t know anything about dating.

“You… would be ok with that?”

“I guess you can see a grownup movie I’m not old enough to watch anyway.”

But Jimin desperately wanted this permission that chance and the strange wandering mind of his daughter had brought him, so he pressed, “You would be ok if I went on a date with Hanbyul? If I… if we spent more time with her?”

“I know what dating is,” Sun-young scoffed. “I know when we went to see Mango Crush it wasn’t even really a date because I was there so this time it can be just the two of you.” Jimin walked slowly, taking Hudu’s leash to pull him closer as some bicycles whizzed past and a bigger dog barked loudly. Hudu didn’t like it and stuck closer to Jiminn’s leg. He was thinking of what to say next.

Instead Sun-young asked, “Do you think it’s weird because it’s not eomma?”

“Weird isn’t the word I was thinking but… maybe. Do you think so?”

“No,” Sun-young said. He thought that was a strange answer and didn’t know whether to trust it.

“I miss your eomma every day,” he continued, “and I haven’t wanted to think about meeting someone new. No one can ever replace your eomma. She loved you so much. I loved her so much.”

“I know that.”

“So I just want to be careful. I don’t want to do anything that makes you and me sad. It’s hard to lose your eomma. It was hard for me to lose my wife.”

Sun-young pursed her lips in thought and it broke his heart, having such an adult conversation with a little girl. It was wrong what he’d said before. She didn’t have a little girl view of the world; she’d had to grow up very quickly in some ways. He just wanted to protect what little girl remained.

“I miss Eomma too, I wish she didn’t die. But I like doing things with unnie too. Is that ok?”

“It’s definitely ok.”

“Then why is it weird?”

“Just… because… I don’t know. Maybe it’s not weird,” he admitted because he didn’t know how to explain his complicated feelings and maybe he didn’t need to. If Sun-young didn’t have a hard time holding both Subin and Hanbyul in her heart, maybe he didn’t need to make it weird for her. If her feelings changed, if she felt different lately, well, they would work through that then.

“Yeah, don’t make it weird, Appa, and don’t try to be funny and confuse her so she doesn’t know you’re asking her out. Unnie says when you are communicating something important, you have to be firm and clear and believe in yourself.”

“Are you… giving me advice on how to ask her out?”

“Yes!”

Jimin glared and assured her, “Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out. I’ve done this before.”

“With eomma? But that was so long ago.”

“Hey!”

“When we get home you can take Hudu and the brownie and I’ll run to our apartment so you have privacy,” Sun-young suggested.

“I’m not asking her out today! She’s sick!”

“But if you wait, Uncle Tae might ask her out! I think he likes her too.”

And Namjoon and Jungkook Jimin internally grumbled.

“Don’t you worry about it.”

“Maybe I should help. I asked her out for Mango Crush.”

“Sunnie,” he stopped her right outside the building. “I’ve got this.”

She clapped her hands together and agreed, “That’s good, Appa, believe in yourself. I think she likes us a lot, I think she’ll say yes.”

He did not ask Hanbyul out, despite Sun-young’s eager questions as soon as he got back from returning Hudu and delivering the brownie. He tutted her away. Now he wondered if it would be better for her not to have known for a different reason. She might overwhelm Hanbyul. She might make Hanbyul feel rushed or pressured into something she didn’t actually want.

No, he had to trust Hanbyul in making her own decisions. He believed she would. And his heart did feel lighter about it all knowing he had Sun-young’s shockingly full support.

Instead he waited until Sun-young had gone to bed to make the last phone call he needed to before he’d feel free to take the next step.

“Hey, Namjoon! I don’t want things to be awkward between us so I want to be upfront with you about my feelings for Hanbyul…”

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