2 wittle hands, 1 heavy heart
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The apartment felt both too full and too empty. It was filled with the cries of a six-month-old and the occasional tantrum of a two-year-old, yet it was missing something—someone.
Jungwon had been gone for weeks, barely home for more than a few hours before heading out again for rehearsals, recordings, and endless schedules. You understood, but understanding didn’t make the exhaustion any easier to bear.
“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” you whispered, rocking Jung-ah against your chest, her tiny fists gripping your shirt as she wailed. Your arms ached from holding her all day, your patience worn thin from how Jung-woo had spent the afternoon throwing his blocks across the room, demanding, “Where’s Appa?”
How were you supposed to answer that?
Jung-woo sniffled in the corner, curled up against the couch, his bottom lip trembling. You crouched beside him, brushing his messy hair back.
“Baby, I know you miss Appa,” you murmured, kissing his forehead, “but he’s working hard, okay?”
He pouted, rubbing his eyes. “But he’s always busy.”
You didn’t have the heart to tell him he wasn’t wrong.
Jung-ah’s cries grew louder, her tiny body trembling against you, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from breaking. It was too much—all of it. You were doing your best, but you weren’t enough.
And then the front door clicked open.
You froze.
Jung-woo’s head shot up.
Jung-ah hiccupped through her sobs.
Jungwon stood in the doorway, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his hoodie pulled over his messy hair. He looked exhausted—dark circles under his eyes, his posture slumped with the weight of everything on his shoulders.
But his heart shattered when he saw the scene before him—Jung-ah’s tear-streaked face, Jung-woo’s sad little pout, your tired, defeated expression.
“Hey, my loves,” his voice was hoarse like he hadn’t spoken in hours.
Jung-woo’s face twisted, and suddenly, he was sobbing.
“Appa!”
Jungwon barely had time to drop his bag before Jung-woo crashed into his legs, clinging to him like he’d disappear again if he let go. Jungwon sucked in a sharp breath, guilt twisting like a knife in his gut.
“Hey, hey, I’m here, I’m here,” he whispered, scooping him up. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.”
Jung-woo buried his face into Jungwon’s neck, tiny arms wrapped so tightly around him it was as if he was trying to mould himself into his father.
Jungwon turned to you next, eyes filled with something unreadable, something heavy. His gaze dropped to Jung-ah, who had quieted in your arms, her big, watery eyes blinking at him.
You bit your lip, shifting your weight. “She’s been fussy all day. And Jung-woo…” Your voice wavered. “He missed you so much.”
Jungwon’s throat bobbed.
He reached out hesitantly, as if he wasn’t sure he had the right to or if he wasn’t sure if he deserved to. But you let him take her, let him pull her to his chest, and the moment he did, she let out a tiny, shuddering breath and nestled into him.
“Hey, princess,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. “I missed you too.”
Jung-woo’s sniffles softened, but he clung to Jungwon, his tiny fists gripping his hoodie. “You won’t leave again?” he mumbled.
Jungwon felt his heart crack wide open.
He met your gaze over their heads, eyes filled with unsaid things—I’m sorry. I love you. I don’t know how to fix this, but I want to.
You exhaled, shoulders sagging. You weren’t sure if things would magically get better overnight, but at least—for tonight—your little family was together.
Jungwon didn’t let go.
Not even when Jung-woo’s sniffles turned into slow, steady breaths against his shoulder, not even when Jung-ah’s tiny fingers curled around the fabric of his hoodie, her cheek squished against his chest, not even when he felt his exhaustion settling deep into his bones.
You watched him from the doorway of the nursery, arms crossed over your chest. The weight on your shoulders hadn’t disappeared, but seeing him here—finally here—was enough to make your heart ache differently.
He looked down at the two little humans who depended on him, his throat tightening as guilt burned his lungs. “I messed up, didn’t I?”
You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you moved closer, brushing your fingers against Jung-ah’s soft hair. “You missed a lot.” Your voice was quiet, tired.
Jungwon swallowed hard.
“I know,” he murmured. “I—I didn’t mean to. I didn’t think… I thought I was doing the right thing by working hard, by making sure we had everything we needed, but—”
“But we need you more than anything else.”
Silence. Heavy and thick.
Jung-woo stirred, mumbling something sleepily against his father’s shoulder. Jungwon instinctively rubbed his back, something deep and instinctual in him responding to his son’s slightest movements.
When he finally looked at you, his eyes were red-rimmed, glossy. “I don’t want to be the kind of dad who’s just a picture on the wall.”
Your heart clenched.
“You won’t be,” you whispered. “But you have to be here.”
Jungwon nodded, pressing a kiss to Jung-woo’s temple and then to Jung-ah’s forehead. “I will be.”
You wanted to believe him.
And maybe, with how he held them—like they were the most precious things in the world—you did.
Jungwon let out a breath as he gently tucked Jung-woo under his blankets, brushing his son’s soft hair back. After what felt like forever, the toddler finally fell asleep, his tiny fingers still curled loosely around Jungwon’s hoodie.
Carefully, he pried them off, pressing one last kiss to his forehead before stepping back. The exhaustion in his bones felt deeper than any stage performance, heavier than any schedule. But when he turned around and saw you standing in the doorway, holding a half-asleep but still-clinging Jung-ah, all he felt was warmth.
“She’s fighting it,” you whispered, sighing. “She keeps whining for you.”
Jungwon reached for his daughter, cradling her against his chest as you gave him a tired but knowing look. “Good luck,” you murmured before finally retreating to catch your breath.
With soft steps, Jungwon carried Jung-ah into the nursery and lowered her into the crib—or at least he tried to.
The second her tiny body touched the mattress, her grip tightened around his mullet, her little fingers tangling into the strands like a lifeline.
“Ah, princess—” Jungwon winced, holding back a laugh as she let out a slight, sleepy whine. “I know you love Appa, but you’ll make me bald before I turn thirty.”
Jung-ah only clung tighter, her brows furrowing as if she knew exactly what he was saying and refused to care.
Jungwon tried to untangle her fingers gently, but she whimpered, eyes fluttering open. His heart clenched. He had missed so many nights like this—nights where she just wanted to be held and needed him.
With a quiet sigh, he gave in, settling down on the rocking chair beside the crib instead. “Alright, alright,” he murmured, rubbing her back. “I’m not going anywhere, princess.”
Jung-ah let out a content sigh, her fingers still woven into his hair as she nuzzled against his chest. Jungwon leaned his head back, exhaustion washing over him, but his heart—*his heart had never felt more full*.
An hour later, Jungwon finally untangled Jung-ah’s tiny fingers from his hair. Her soft, squishy body had gone completely limp; her little mouth slightly parted as she breathed peacefully against his chest.
Jungwon exhaled, kissing her forehead gently before standing up and laying her down in the crib. This time, she didn’t stir. He watched her momentarily, his heart aching with love, before quietly slipping out of the nursery.
The apartment was silent, save for the low hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of the floorboards under his feet. Walking into the living room, he found you curled up on the couch, half awake, waiting for him.
Your eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but you still looked up at him with a small, tired smile. “She finally let you go?” you murmured.
Jungwon let out a breathy chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Barely. I think she wants to keep me on a leash.”
You laughed softly, reaching out a hand. Without hesitation, he took it, letting you pull him down onto the couch with you.
When he settled beside you, your body instinctively curled into his, fitting against him as if you belonged there—because you did. Jungwon let out a quiet sigh, wrapping his arms around you, his nose pressing into your hair.
For the first time in weeks, he felt at peace.
“You’re staying, right?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Jungwon tightened his hold around you. “I’m staying,” he promised.
You didn’t reply, but how you relaxed against him told him you believed him. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.
Neither of you made it to the bedroom that night.
Wrapped up in each other’s warmth, in the comfort of knowing that for tonight—just for tonight—everything was okay, you both drifted off to sleep on the couch.
And Jungwon didn’t dream of anything except *for the first time in a long time.
requested by: @aeri-shi
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