MYFL | Chapter 2.1

I handed over the information sheet with the schedule and tuition details, along with the admission form, then sat there blankly for a while. Seungjae occasionally asked questions, and Beomchan answered mechanically, barely aware of whether his responses made sense.

“The kid’s always been really quiet, so I wanted to teach him at least one sport when he got a little older. I wasn’t sure if it was still too early, but since this place is right above my café, I feel reassured. Plus, it’s run by someone trustworthy, so I figured it’d be perfect.”

As Seungjae said the words ‘someone trustworthy,’ he glanced at Beomchan with a faint squint and a smirk. Even in the midst of all this confusion, just hearing that made his heart flutter, which he found utterly pathetic.

“How old is he?”

“He’s 47 months old now. Five years old.”

“Have you decided on a kindergarten?”

“Yeah, Hanbit. I wanted to send him somewhere closer, but all the spots were full. Even Hanbit said it’d be tough when I asked before we moved, but recently, a spot opened up, so we barely got in. Seriously, getting a kid into kindergarten these days is a nightmare.”

Seungjae shook his head with a tired expression. Having dealt with children and guardians for a long time in this place, Beomchan understood the situation well. This neighborhood wasn’t a bustling area with lots of entertainment, but it had plenty of academies, elementary schools, and middle schools. People often said it was a great area to raise kids.

Naturally, there were many kindergartens too, but there were just as many kids in that age group. Like Seungjae mentioned, getting a mid-year admission was like picking a star from the sky, so just getting in at all felt like a miracle.

“Hanbit’s good. The teachers there have been around for a long time, and they’re great. The kids are nice too. There are about four of them from Hanbit attending here, so he should have an easier time adjusting.”

Beomchan pointed at the information sheet in front of Seungjae and explained the basics like the schedule and tuition fees. At first, Seungjae nodded attentively, listening seriously, but at some point, he started looking at him with this oddly amused expression, as if holding back laughter.

Unable to ignore it any longer, Beomchan stopped talking and asked, “…What?”

“No, it’s just interesting.”

“What is?”

Given the situation, his voice came out more irritated than he intended. He realized it a moment too late and checked Seungjae’s reaction, but the guy didn’t seem to mind.

“The kid who used to wear a school uniform now looks a bit like an adult. It’s interesting.”

“….”

If the Seungjae that Beomchan remembered was the embodiment of adulthood, then the Beomchan that Seungjae remembered was probably just a kid who hadn’t even taken off his school uniform yet. He knew that in Seungjae’s eyes, he was still nothing more than a kid, but hearing it said out loud felt like a direct hit.

“I didn’t know you had a kid, though, Teacher.”

Maybe it was his nephew. Even though he knew it was a ridiculous thought, he couldn’t help but cling to a sliver of hope and deliberately tested the waters. Pathetic. Seriously. Avoiding Seungjae’s gaze, Beomchan looked over at the child who sat quietly as if he barely existed.

But honestly, he didn’t even need to ask to know. The kid looked exactly like Seungjae, as if he’d been copied and pasted.

“Oh, I guess I never mentioned it. I had him a little early, so people say that a lot.”

Seungjae reached out and gently ruffled the back of the child’s small, round head a couple of times. The kid seemed used to the touch. Even though everything felt unfamiliar to Beomchan, this child was completely at ease.

It was all so foreign to him—the kid who looked just like Seungjae sitting next to him, the fact that Seungjae was here in front of him as a guardian.

Beomchan’s gaze drifted to Seungjae’s left hand. The ring was still there.

“I guess I never mentioned it.”

He repeated Seungjae’s words in his head. Right. Seungjae had no obligation to tell him he was married and had a kid. This was a one-sided crush, after all. Just like eight years ago, these feelings were something he selfishly harbored alone.

He had believed that if he waited by Seungjae’s side, if he endured and held on until Seungjae finally looked back at him, then one day, an opportunity would come his way. What gave him the confidence to think that? It was pathetic and miserable.

Then, at that moment, Beomchan caught sight of Seungjae’s face as he looked at the child.

The Seungjae he knew was good at pretending to be kind, but he wasn’t someone who wore his emotions openly. Despite his gentle and considerate actions, he often drew a subtle line between himself and others.

That trait had made Beomchan feel both disappointed and stubbornly determined at times. Seungjae was a kind person, but he rarely showed kindness that came from the heart.

He had always wondered—what would it be like to be inside that invisible boundary? If he could be the one Seungjae truly poured his affection into, how happy would he be?

He had spent years imagining it, and now, it felt like he was seeing the answer.

Seungjae was looking at the child with eyes that held no pretense, no hesitation—just pure, overflowing love.

Feeling ashamed of himself, Beomchan inwardly berated himself for the way he had been agonizing over this child’s existence.

Yeah… it’s not the kid’s fault.

The child sat quietly between the adults, his tiny hands fidgeting as he nervously observed the situation. He was cute, but at the same time, Beomchan couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy.

Just as Seungjae had said, he seemed like a quiet, introverted kid.

His chubby cheeks were slightly flushed, and he hunched his already small body as if trying to make himself even smaller. After a moment, his round eyes flicked up, stealing a cautious glance at Beomchan.

At that moment, Beomchan had to clench his fists under the table.

So cute…

He had always liked kids, but maybe because this one looked so much like Seungjae, he seemed even more lovable.

“Do I just need to fill this out?”

While Beomchan was drowning in his own turbulent thoughts, Seungjae pointed at the admission form, seemingly having made up his mind.

“Yes.” Beomchan nodded, and without hesitation, Seungjae picked up a pen and started filling in the blanks. His movements were smooth and confident.

“The uniform comes with two sets by default, so you’ll only need to buy a new one if he outgrows them. Kids grow faster than you think, so it’s better to get a slightly loose fit.”

After finishing his explanation, Beomchan got up and went to the stack of new uniforms piled in one corner of the office. He picked out two sets that seemed close to the child’s size.

“Come here, let’s try them on with your master.”

He knelt down to the floor and adjusted his posture to meet the child’s eye level. The kid hesitated for a moment before slipping off the chair and cautiously approaching him.

His little hands carefully folded his jacket and placed it on the floor—a movement surprisingly neat for a child his age.

“You don’t have to take off your top,” Beomchan reassured him, and the child obediently turned around, slipping his arms into the uniform Beomchan held out.

The first size they tried was so oversized that it was uncomfortable to move in, so they settled on the smaller one. Even that, the smallest available size at the dojo, was still a bit loose on him.

After helping him put on both the top and bottom, Beomchan neatly folded the excess sleeves and pant legs, adjusting them so they wouldn’t get in the way.

Once he tied the white belt snugly around the child’s waist, the little hands shyly fidgeted with the end of the belt. His head was lowered, making it seem like his round cheeks might spill over at any moment.

That’s when Seungjae, who had quietly approached, held up his phone.

“Woojoo, look at Daddy.”

Even as he twisted his body with embarrassment, the child still followed Seungjae’s instructions and held up two tiny fingers.

Click. Click.

The sound of the camera shutter echoed in succession. The kid seemed used to this.

“Woojoo, do you like sports?” Beomchan asked.

Woojoo’s round eyes darted up at him before he hesitantly whispered, “No.”

Beomchan exaggeratedly swung his arms back and forth and asked again.

“What about running?”

“….”

“Do you like playing with friends?” Finally, Woojoo gave a small nod. “But we moved, so I don’t have any friends yet…”

“You’ll make lots of friends here. Let’s do our best together at taekwondo, okay?”

Another small nod.

“High five.”

Beomchan held up his large palm in front of the child. Woojoo hesitated for a second, then slowly raised his tiny hand and placed it against Beomchan’s.

Unlike earlier, when he had been shy and uncomfortable, his face now showed a faint trace of anticipation.

⋆˚🐾˖°

That night, Beomchan lay on his bed, staring intently at the admission form Seungjae had filled out. More precisely, at the guardian section.

Why had he only made space for one guardian?

Back when he had designed the form, he had boldly erased the extra space, thinking it was considerate of single-parent or grandparent-led families. Now, he felt a little—just a tiny bit—resentful of his past self for that decision.

“Joo Woojoo….”

The child’s surname was the same as Seungjae’s.

In this still old-fashioned society, it was common for children to take the alpha parent’s surname. However, in households with two fathers, it was becoming more common for children to take the omega parent’s surname instead.

Unless… he was actually raising him alone?

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Beomchan jolted and roughly ran a hand through his hair, messing it up.

Come on, don’t wish misfortune upon someone who’s clearly wearing a wedding ring.

“His handwriting is still the same….”