A new beginning
Three months had passed since that fateful night at the hospital—three months of gradual, thoughtful steps forward in their relationship. What had begun as weekend stays at Kyungsoo's apartment had evolved naturally until Jongin found himself spending more nights there than at his own place, Yujin's toys and books slowly migrating until they occupied a permanent corner of Kyungsoo's living room.
"We should probably talk about this," Jongin said one evening as he folded Yujin's clean clothes into a drawer that had somehow become exclusively his in Kyungsoo's guest room. "We're practically living here already."
Kyungsoo looked up from where he was helping Yujin arrange dinosaur figures in an elaborate prehistoric scene on the coffee table. "Does that bother you?" he asked, careful to keep his tone neutral.
"No," Jongin admitted, surprising himself with how true it was. "It feels... right."
A smile spread across Kyungsoo's face, restrained but radiant. "It does to me too."
"Appa, look!" Yujin called, holding up a Tyrannosaurus rex. "Soo made him a house!"
Jongin moved to the living room to inspect the small structure Kyungsoo had crafted from building blocks—a perfect miniature shelter for the plastic dinosaur. "That's wonderful, Yujinnie. Did you say thank you?"
"Thank you, Appa Soo," Yujin said without hesitation, the new title rolling off his tongue as if he'd been saying it forever.
Jongin froze, his eyes flying to Kyungsoo's face. The alpha looked equally stunned, his hand pausing mid-air where he'd been adjusting a triceratops.
"What did you call him, baby?" Jongin asked softly.
Yujin glanced up, confusion crossing his small features at their reactions. "Appa Soo," he repeated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Like you're Appa, and he's Appa Soo."
Kyungsoo's eyes met Jongin's over Yujin's head, a question in their depths. Jongin found himself unable to speak, overwhelmed by the simple, childish logic that had so effortlessly redefined their relationship.
"Is that okay?" Kyungsoo asked quietly, and Jongin knew he wasn't asking Yujin.
For a brief moment, old fears flickered at the edges of Jongin's consciousness—fear of dependency, of vulnerability, of inevitable loss. But they were fainter now, worn thin by months of Kyungsoo's unwavering presence and consistent care.
"Yes," Jongin said finally, his voice steady despite the emotion welling in his chest. "It's more than okay."
Kyungsoo's relief was palpable, a tension leaving his shoulders that Jongin hadn't even realized was there. He returned his attention to Yujin, who had already moved on, unconcerned with the momentous shift he'd just initiated.
"I think your T-Rex needs a bigger house," Kyungsoo said, his voice slightly rougher than usual. "Should we build him a castle?"
"Yes!" Yujin exclaimed, bouncing with excitement. "A big, big castle!"
Later, after Yujin had fallen asleep amid the ruins of the block castle, Kyungsoo and Jongin sat on the balcony, the city lights spread out before them like earthbound stars.
"We don't have to make it official if you're not ready," Kyungsoo said, breaking the contemplative silence between them. "What Yujin calls me doesn't have to change anything."
"But it has," Jongin replied softly. "It's changed everything."
Kyungsoo turned to look at him, waiting for him to continue.
"He sees what I've been too afraid to fully acknowledge," Jongin explained. "That you've become essential to us. That we're a family now, in every way that matters."
"Is that still scary for you?" Kyungsoo asked gently.
Jongin considered the question honestly. "Less than it was," he admitted. "Every day, a little less."
Kyungsoo reached for his hand, threading their fingers together. "I meant what I said months ago. Whatever pace you need, I'll follow."
"I know," Jongin squeezed his hand. "And that's one of the reasons I think it's time."
"Time?" Kyungsoo repeated, a hint of hope in his voice.
"To make it official," Jongin clarified. "To let go of my apartment. To move in properly, not just drift into it because it's convenient."
Kyungsoo's smile was slow and brilliant, like sunrise breaking over the horizon. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure," Jongin nodded, returning the smile. "Yujin has never been happier, more secure. And neither have I."
The kiss Kyungsoo pressed to his lips was gentle but filled with promise—a pledge of all the days to come, the life they would build together.
"There's something else," Kyungsoo said when they parted, a flicker of nervousness crossing his usually composed features. "Something I've been thinking about."
"What is it?"
Kyungsoo hesitated, then spoke carefully. "I know Yujin's preschool is near your old apartment. And I know the commute has been difficult since you've been staying here more."
Jongin nodded, wondering where this was leading.
"I found a preschool near here," Kyungsoo continued. "It has an excellent reputation, small class sizes, and a focus on creative learning. I took the liberty of arranging a tour for us next week, if you're interested."
The thoughtfulness of the gesture was so quintessentially Kyungsoo—practical, considerate, always anticipating needs before they became problems. "That would be wonderful," Jongin said sincerely. "The commute has been challenging."
"There's more," Kyungsoo added, a hint of hesitation still in his voice. "The school has a needs-based scholarship program. I've been in discussions with them about expanding it, as a corporate sponsorship from the firm."
Understanding dawned on Jongin. "So other children from less privileged backgrounds could attend."
Kyungsoo nodded. "It was Yujin who gave me the idea, actually. He told me about his friend at his current preschool, the one whose mother works nights like you used to. It got me thinking about how many talented children never get the opportunities they deserve because of financial circumstances."
The depth of consideration in this plan—not just solving their immediate needs but extending the solution to others in similar situations—touched Jongin deeply. "That's... remarkable, Kyungsoo."
"Is it too much?" Kyungsoo asked, a rare uncertainty in his eyes. "I don't want to overstep."
"It's not overstepping," Jongin assured him, squeezing his hand. "It's beautiful. Using your position to create opportunities for others—that's exactly the kind of person you are."
Relief washed over Kyungsoo's features. "I want to build something meaningful with you, Jongin. Not just a home for us, but something larger. Something that matters."
In that moment, looking at the man who had transformed his life with patient, unwavering love, Jongin felt the last of his reservations dissolve like morning mist in sunlight. This wasn't the fleeting passion he'd once mistaken for love, nor the desperate clinging he'd witnessed in other relationships. This was something steadier, deeper, more enduring—a partnership of equals, each bringing their unique strengths to create something greater than either could build alone.
"We will," Jongin promised, leaning forward to seal the vow with a kiss. "Together."
---
The move happened gradually over the next few weeks. Jongin was surprised by how little from his old apartment felt necessary to bring—mostly Yujin's keepsakes, photo albums, and a few pieces of furniture with sentimental value. Kyungsoo made space for these treasures with characteristic thoughtfulness, understanding that their value lay not in their monetary worth but in the memories they carried.
The preschool tour had gone wonderfully, with Yujin immediately enchanted by the art studio and outdoor play area. When they'd explained to him that he would be changing schools, his only question had been whether his new friend from their building, Sehun, would be there too.
"He lives on the fifth floor," Yujin had explained seriously to the school director. "His mom makes the best cookies."
The director had smiled, charmed by Yujin's earnestness. "Sehun is one of our students in the Butterfly Room. You'll be in the same class."
That settled, Yujin had promptly asked to see the dinosaur books, any hesitation about the change completely forgotten.
"He adapts so easily," Jongin had marveled as they left the school, watching Yujin skip ahead of them on the sidewalk. "I was worried this would be disruptive for him, but he seems completely unfazed."
"Children are resilient," Kyungsoo had observed. "Especially when they feel secure in the things that matter most—being loved, being safe."
Now, as Jongin hung the last of Yujin's artwork on the wall of what had officially become his room, he reflected on how true those words had proven. Throughout all the changes—the new home, the new school, the evolving relationship between the adults in his life—Yujin had remained happy and confident, secure in the knowledge that he was cherished.
"All done?" Kyungsoo asked from the doorway, two cups of tea in his hands.
"Just finished," Jongin confirmed, stepping back to admire the colorful display. "This place finally feels like home."
"It became home the moment you two walked through the door," Kyungsoo said, handing him a steaming cup. "The rest is just decoration."
Jongin smiled, leaning into the alpha's side as they surveyed the room together. "Not just decoration. History. Memories."
"The first of many," Kyungsoo agreed, pressing a kiss to Jongin's temple.
They made their way to the living room, where large windows showcased the city lights beginning to twinkle in the early evening darkness. Yujin was at a playdate with Sehun, giving them a rare quiet moment together.
"I have something for you," Kyungsoo said, setting his tea aside and reaching into his pocket. "A housewarming gift, of sorts."
He handed Jongin a small, velvet box. Not a ring box, Jongin noted with a mixture of relief and something like disappointment, but larger—the size that might hold a bracelet or watch.
"You didn't have to get me anything," Jongin protested, though curiosity had him opening the box despite his words.
Inside, nestled on black velvet, lay a key—silver, newly cut, attached to a simple keychain bearing a miniature architectural drawing of their building.
"I know you already have a key," Kyungsoo explained, watching Jongin's face carefully. "But this one is different. I had the locks changed today. These are new keys, to our home. Not my home that you're staying in, but our home that we're building together."
The symbolism of the gesture—the deliberate recreation of access, the equal footing it represented—moved Jongin deeply. "Kyungsoo," he began, but words failed him.
"There's something else," Kyungsoo continued, taking the box back and turning it over to reveal a small compartment in the bottom. From it, he extracted a folded document. "This is a copy. The original is with my lawyer."
Jongin unfolded the paper, scanning its legal language with growing astonishment. "This is... you've added me to the deed of the apartment."
"Joint ownership," Kyungsoo confirmed. "Equal stakes. I want there to be no question that this home belongs to both of us."
"But this place must be worth—" Jongin began, overwhelmed by the implications.
"It doesn't matter what it's worth," Kyungsoo interrupted gently. "What matters is that it's ours. Yours, mine, and Yujin's."
Jongin stared at the document, emotions warring within him. The old instinct to resist such generosity, to protect his independence, rose briefly before subsiding under the weight of understanding what this truly represented. Not charity, not control, but partnership—a concrete affirmation of Kyungsoo's commitment to their equality.
"I don't know what to say," he admitted finally.
"You don't have to say anything," Kyungsoo assured him. "Just know that everything I have, everything I am, is shared with you now. Not given, not taken, but shared."
Jongin carefully set the document aside and stepped into Kyungsoo's space, framing the alpha's face with his hands. "I love you," he said simply. "So much that sometimes I don't know how to contain it."
"Then don't," Kyungsoo murmured, his arms encircling Jongin's waist. "Let it spill over. Let it fill every corner of our lives."
Their kiss was unhurried, a celebration rather than a demand, sweet with the knowledge of all the kisses yet to come in the days and years ahead.
Later, after they'd picked up Yujin from his playdate and gone through the familiar routine of dinner, bath, and bedtime stories, they stood together in the doorway of Yujin's room, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he slept.
"He asked me something today," Kyungsoo whispered, careful not to wake the sleeping child. "Something important."
"What was it?" Jongin asked, equally quiet.
"He wanted to know if I was going to be his appa forever," Kyungsoo replied, emotion making his deep voice slightly rough. "Or just for now."
Jongin's heart clenched at the innocent yet profound question. "What did you tell him?"
"I told him forever," Kyungsoo said simply. "That if he wanted me to be his appa, I would be, for as long as he needed one. That people who love each other stay, even when things are difficult."
"And what did he say?" Jongin asked, though he could guess from the peace on Kyungsoo's face.
A smile tugged at Kyungsoo's lips. "He said 'good' and then asked if we could have ice cream after dinner."
Jongin laughed softly, the sound filled with affection. "That's Yujin. Profound one moment, completely practical the next."
"He gets that from you," Kyungsoo observed, drawing Jongin closer as they moved away from the doorway and into the hallway.
"Me? I'm the overthinker in this family," Jongin protested lightly. "You're the practical one."
"You're both," Kyungsoo countered. "Thoughtful and practical. It's one of the things I love most about you."
They made their way to their bedroom—another transition that had happened gradually, with Jongin moving from the guest room to Kyungsoo's larger bedroom as their relationship deepened. Now it was thoroughly theirs, with Jongin's books mingled with Kyungsoo's on the shelves, their clothes sharing closet space, their scents thoroughly intertwined in the sheets.
As they prepared for bed, moving around each other in the easy choreography of established intimacy, Jongin found himself reflecting on the journey that had brought them here. From that rainy night at the grocery store to this peaceful evening in their shared home—it seemed both improbable and inevitable, a path that had always been waiting for them to discover.
"What are you thinking about?" Kyungsoo asked as they settled into bed, Jongin's head resting on his chest in their familiar position.
"About how far we've come," Jongin replied honestly. "About how afraid I was to trust this. To trust you."
Kyungsoo's hand traced gentle patterns on Jongin's back. "And now?"
"Now I understand something I didn't before," Jongin said, lifting his head to meet Kyungsoo's gaze in the dim light. "Love doesn't have to be painful to be real. It can be steady, and warm, and safe." He smiled, echoing the words Kyungsoo had once spoken to him. "Not everything is temporary."
"No," Kyungsoo agreed, pulling him closer. "Some things are built to last."
As Jongin drifted toward sleep, wrapped in the security of Kyungsoo's embrace, he thought about the many forms of shelter they had created for each other—protection from storms both literal and metaphorical, safe harbor for vulnerabilities and dreams, a home built not of walls but of mutual care and respect.
And he knew, with a certainty that ran bone-deep, that whatever challenges the future held, they would face them together—sheltered in each other's arms, stronger for the love they shared.
---
Six months later, on a crisp autumn evening much like the one when they first met, Jongin stood in the kitchen of their home, watching through the window as Kyungsoo and Yujin played in the park across the street. Even from this distance, he could see the joy on his son's face as Kyungsoo lifted him high to place a leaf on top of a towering pile they'd collected.
The scene filled him with a contentment so profound it bordered on disbelief. How had he gotten so lucky? How had his life transformed so completely from that desperate night in the grocery store?
The answer, he knew, wasn't luck at all. It was courage—Kyungsoo's courage to reach out to strangers in need, and his own courage to eventually accept that helping hand. It was patience—Kyungsoo waiting for Jongin's walls to come down, brick by careful brick. It was love—not the dramatic, tumultuous emotion of stories, but the quiet, enduring kind that showed itself in a thousand small ways each day.
A knock at the door interrupted his reverie. Opening it, he found Joohyun and Seulgi in the hallway, Seulgi holding her now eight-month-old daughter, Mina, named not for their former colleague (who had ultimately left the firm for a position elsewhere) but for Seulgi's grandmother.
"Are we early?" Joohyun asked, stepping inside when Jongin welcomed them.
"Right on time," Jongin assured them. "Kyungsoo and Yujin are still at the park. They should be back any minute."
As if summoned by his words, the sound of excited chatter in the hallway announced their return. Yujin burst through the door first, cheeks flushed with cold and excitement.
"Auntie Joohyun! Auntie Seulgi!" he exclaimed, rushing to hug them before turning his attention to baby Mina. "Hi, baby! Look what I found!"
He proudly displayed a perfect maple leaf, its edges still crisp, colors blazing red and gold.
"That's beautiful, Yujin," Seulgi praised, bouncing her daughter gently. "Maybe we can press it in a book to keep it forever."
"Appa Soo knows how," Yujin declared confidently, turning to Kyungsoo who had just entered, carrying a small bag of particularly impressive leaves they'd collected. "Right?"
"I do indeed," Kyungsoo confirmed, setting down the leaves to greet their guests. "My mother taught me when I was about your age."
As the evening progressed, with more friends arriving for the small dinner party they were hosting, Jongin found himself repeatedly drawn back to that moment of perfect understanding. This was what home felt like—not just the physical space they shared, but the connections they'd built, the family they'd created both by blood and by choice.
Later, after their guests had departed and Yujin was tucked into bed, Jongin and Kyungsoo stood on their balcony, watching the city lights just as they had on so many nights before. Kyungsoo's arm was wrapped around Jongin's waist, holding him close against the autumn chill.
"Happy?" Kyungsoo asked, his breath warm against Jongin's ear.
Jongin turned in his embrace, meeting the gaze that still, after all this time, made his heart skip. "Completely," he answered, and sealed the truth of it with a kiss.
Outside, the first drops of autumn rain began to fall, pattering gently against the balcony rail. But inside, sheltered in each other's arms, they were warm, and safe, and home.