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Even as young as he was, Junhong had been quick to decide that he didn’t much like it when his mommy and daddy fought.
The last time it had happened - which, he wasn’t supposed to remember, having been far too young to understand - he’d ended up being smothered by his daddy’s bear grip and drowning in his tears. He didn’t really understand what was happening back then, but the tears told him something was wrong. Junhong himself only ever cried when something was wrong - like when the closet monsters (whom, his dad later taught him were the good guys and the real bad guys were the ones in the toilets, which is why they needed to keep the lid closed when he wasn’t peeing) made loud noises at night; so if his daddy was crying, something definitely had to be wrong.
That had been at least three years ago. And that one night all those three years ago had been enough to decide that, no, he did not like it when his parents fought.
So sitting up right at the breakfast table, his legs dangling in his chair, too short to yet reach the floor, Junhong was not the littlest pleased at the bickering that had broke out across the table between his two guardian figures. The kitchen table was meant as a place for harmony - so said Himchan - and eating - though Junhong had already long since lost his appetite; no one had ever said anything about fighting.
Junhong just hadn’t seen any of this coming. Perhaps had he known, he could have done something to prevent it.
The morning just minutes prior had been great.
“Wakey-wakey!”
Junhong had squealed. He flopping his arms and giggling when a broad, too familiar, smile came into his vision. Himchan. Still squished up against his daddy’s chest, Junhong had stretched his arms out for the older man, whispering his good mornings with a wet kiss to the cheek.
“Did Junhonggie sleep well?”
He nodded eagerly, throwing his arms around Himchan’s neck. He’d slept perfectly fine, once after his daddy had showed up at night to hush the monsters in the closet.
“Daddy told the monsters to shh and they did!”
Saying so, Junhong turned to his dad, breaking to a fit of giggles at the way his dad’s jaw hung open, the slightest sliver of drool clinging to his father’s thick lower lip. He’d always had this habit of sleeping with his mouth hung open. Himchan used to tell him that he was going to stick something in his mouth when he was sleeping one day. (Yongguk had made a weird eye wiggle at Himchan, who flushed and turned away, ignoring his boyfriend.)
He giggled and pressed a finger up to his lips, the same way Yongguk did, when they caught Himchan dozing on the couch with a book on his face. “Shh, daddy’s sleeping.” He wasn’t the greatest at whispering and it came out as a hissed shout, making his sleeping father twitch his nose and turn against the sheets. Junhong gasped and pressed his hands to his mouth. “Oops.”
Himchan laughed, cooing at the baby boy and pressed a kiss to revealed forehead. “I actually think it’s time daddy woke up, don’t you think?”
Junhong nodded and they’d both jumped Junhong’s daddy with hugs and kisses until he woke, laughing lowly at his two favorite people in the world. “G’morning.” He’d kissed Junhong first, before reaching over to press a kiss to Himchan’s lips.
And then Junhong had been shooed off to the restroom to wash up before joining the rest of the family at the breakfast table. Himchan had promised to bring out Junhong’s favorite cereal - Lucky Charms, he loved hunting out the little marshmallow bits - and have it sitting out for Junhong when he got back from the restroom. So with a reminder to wash behind his ears, Junhong skipped out of his bedroom and toward the restroom, forgetting to bring his day clothes in the bath with him.
But when Junhong finished his cat wash, he couldn’t help but pause.
“Why the hell are you so rough all the time? It hurts, alright?”
It was Himchan’s voice; Junhong could recognize it anywhere. He was using his indoor voice, but Junhong could still hear it through the thin walls of their apartment complex.
Hoping the argument would die out, like it usually did - Yongguk would usually put on a sweet smile and kiss the fight out of his boyfriend - Junhong had returned back into the baths to re-wash his face, taking an extra long time to lather the soap bubbles between his hands. Usually the bubbles never failed to cheer him up. Today, they had no success.
He slugged his way back to his room and spent double the time he usually did to pick out his clothes and tug them on, checking the mirror three more extra times.
The whisper-shouts didn’t stop; and to Junhong, it was just another unwanted replay of the past.
The last time time his daddy had gotten in to a fight, Junhong had ended up with only one parent. He still remembered - though technically, he wasn’t supposed to - his mother, his real one, patting him twice on his head before leaving with her suitcase packed. He remembered his daddy yelled at the closed door for a few minutes in an alien set of vocabulary Junhong couldn’t recognize before stomping off to his own room. Junhong was left in the living room all alone.
Back then, Junhong had childishly thought that his mommy would come back. She was only just throwing a fit, after all, wasn’t she? She was going to go outside a little huffy, but be back by the night with her sweet smile and hugs and kisses like she always did. After all, she had promised him that she’d never leave him alone, didn’t she?
He’d been wrong, so very horrible wrong.
In the next few years, Junhong got to share the house with just his dad, learning the manly way of dealing with life - living off of instants, ramen, and take out - before someone else marched into their life to pick up after the father-son duo.
“Don’t tell me that you’ve been feeding the poor did just noodles for the past heavens-know-how-long!”
His name was Kim Himchan, and at first, Junhong did not like one single bit.
Himchan was flamboyant, always decked in bright shades he never saw on his dad. He also had a funny face that looked a lot like a rat; and it got only weirder looking when he looked at his dad.
And the worst of all, his daddy mirrored that stupid look.
Junhong hated Himchan.
Over the years, Junhong didn’t have a choice other than to get along with this new stranger. He would more often barge into their two-man house with bags of groceries, many times carrying toys for Junhong to lure him into liking him. Although he didn’t want to, Junhong learned better than to call him mister-rat-face and months into their first meeting, Junhong even gave him a hug and thank you for the Pororo dolls he gave him.
Junhong still thought Himchan’s face reminded him of a rat, he wasn’t allowed to say so because it made Himchan cry at night when they thought Junhong was sleeping. Making people cry wasn’t at all okay, so Junhong kept the opinion to himself. Junhong thought Himchan looked like a pretty rat, but decided to keep the rat part out of his speech.
During the first year Himchan moved into their little apartment - which, he learned, wasn’t so little after all, Himchan made it seem big and filled - Junhong learned that this Himchan person had a lot of contacts. Maybe it was his flamboyancy that introduced him to a lot of important people. Junhong had always known his daddy was on first-name terms with Santa, but Himchan new a lot more. He called the Easter Bunny every March and let Junhong go hunting for the eggs outside; when Junhong lost his front teeth, Himchan called over the tooth fairy to remind her that Junhong needed new ones. The list didn’t stop there.
And another plus, Himchan actually knew how to cook. No more microwavable dinners.
So when daddy asked Junhong’s permission to make Himchan a part of their tiny, broken family, Junhong agreed one hundred percent. Himchan made daddy happy and Junhong was pleased enough with that.
As long as Himchan promised not to leave like his mommy.
So hiding behind his box of cereals, Junhong made tiny noises of discontent in hopes to be heard. He’d walked out slowly to the kitchen and slid into his seat, but his two daddies hadn’t noticed that he was out at the table. They continued to argue - though it was just mostly Himchan doing the yelling and Yongguk rolling his eyes exhaustedly.
He whined, louder this time. Maybe if his two daddies heard that he was in the room, they would stop fighting. They never fought with him in the room. Even if it was just a wall apart, they’d always taken the argument out of their son’s hearing range.
“Daddy?”
Nothing. Himchan continued his irritated buzz and Yongguk seemed to be content ignoring it.
Junhong didn’t like this one bit. The last time one of his parents got upset, he’d been left alone in the living room to cry. He didn’t want to lose his mommy again.
Deciding against sitting this one out - he had to do something! - he jumped out of his seat and ran to hug Himchan’s leg. “Don’t be mad.” He pulled his bottom lip out, digging his nose into Himchan’s thighs. “Daddy didn’t mean it. H-he didn’t mean to hurt Himchan.” Yongguk wouldn’t hurt a fly and Junhong knew this for a fact. There was no way that his daddy could have hurt Himchan on purpose; Yongguk wasn’t possible of such a deed. If Yongguk had hurt Himchan, it had to have been an accident. It had to be.
Bawling a little into Himchan’s knee, Junhong found the room to quiet down, both his parents’ eyes falling down to him. He peeked up out of the knot in Himchan’s knee to find him quiet, lips a little parted and cheeks flushed a shade of pink.
Somewhere behind them, they could hear Yongguk laughing. He really wasn’t making anything easier by being obnoxious.
Pulling Junhong’s arms apart from his leg, Himchan squatted to the smaller boy’s height, pulling him in for a hug and kiss. “When did you get out here Jujnhonggie?” Junhong mumbled out a reply that he’d been out since forever, but the sounds were eaten by Himchan’s shirt.
“It’s okay Jell-O, we weren’t fighting.”
“B-but Himchannie appa said that it hurt!” Junhong pulled out from the soaked shirt to whine, refusing to relinquish his hold around Himchan’s neck - that may or may not have been choking him. He glanced between his two dads with a wounded look, returning his face to the crook of Himchan’s neck.
Himchan cooed. “It’s alright baby, we weren’t fighting. Were we, Yongguk?” The way he said Yongguk’s name was hard, a pointed command to reassure his son that nothing was wrong.
“That’s right.” Yongguk hummed. “Himchan’s just on his period. He’s bleeding from his ass.” He whispered the last bit, choking it down with an amused cough. Junhong didn’t hear it, not really anyways - he didn’t understand what it meant, at the very least.
Himchan sputtered.
He might have cursed, but Junhong’s curious question drowned it out. “What’s a period daddy?”
“Bang Yongguk!” Himchan had regained his voice before the question was answered. This now, his face looked awful red, a lot like the cherry tomatoes Junhong liked so much. “You do not tell that your child!”
“What’s a period, daddy?” Junhong asked, a little louder this time, straining his neck to make himself bigger.
“It’s what your body does to get ready to make babies.”
Junhong blanked, his tears fading out against his cheeks, pushed aside for his curiosity.
“But I thought that the stork brought the babies.”
Nothing made sense anymore.