Chapter Text
Chan is— Chan.
This is one of the first and biggest things Jeongin had to get used to. Chan is just so very Chan. That’s the only way to describe him, too, because Jeongin has never met anyone who is even remotely like the man.
At forty-five (basically ninety, if Seungmin is to be believed), Chan still goes to the gym twice or three times a week. Jeongin’s convinced that’s got more to do with Chan’s best friend Changbin owning said gym than anything else, but still. The man goes, works out and thus still looks healthier than some of Jeongin’s classmates.
He’s a partner at the accounting firm he works at, earns more money per month than Jeongin thought people did in a year, and spends it all on not-himself. Lots of it gets donated to several different charities, some of it is used on buying delicious fresh ingredients to make even more delicious home meals, some of it goes to his gym membership, a large chunk is (apparently very smartly, Minho claimed) invested in ETFs, and what’s left is spent on buying things for the people he loves, especially Jisung but also Minho.
Minho deserves it, of course. Even though he has more money than he apparently knows what to do with, Minho deserves all the money in the world. He’s the one who lifted Jeongin by the collar of his jacket out of the orphanage and dropped him in Chan’s apartment after all. Which; Jeongin’s eternally grateful for the kind of decision making required to make that happen. Jisung would have no doubt brazenly adopted Jeongin himself, royally fucked up and then somehow have to face the consequences. Minho’s smarter than that. Less impulsive. To this day Jeongin is convinced Minho took him to that dinner at his father’s place for the sole purpose of letting Chan’s bleeding heart do its thing.
He’s not complaining, of course. Chan’s bleeding heart has greatly improved his standard of living and his hopes for the future.
Because Chan is so very, very Chan.
“Hey kid, you hungry?”
This part was easy to get used to, admittedly: Chan showing up randomly at the side of whichever surface he was using to study on, a plate of fruit or some other snack in hand that was being hand delivered to him. Jeongin would never reject free food. He doesn’t do it now either, when the scent of the brownie hits his nose and he immediately starts salivating.
“Are those Felix hyung’s?” He asks, very aware of how much he’s perked up, so he doesn’t care about Chan’s little laugh.
“Yeah. Jisung dropped them off during his lunch break. How’s it going here?”
Jeongin only briefly glances down at his homework, entirely distracted by the gorgeous brownie on his plate that he has to force himself not to eat whole in one bite. He no longer lives with fifteen other kids fighting for a mere crumb, after all.
“It’s fine,” he offers because he wouldn’t know what else to say. School is school. Boring but necessary to get somewhere in life. He thought so when he was still at the orphanage and he still thinks so even now that the bed he sleeps on is probably worth more than his entire education cost so far. That doesn’t mean he needs to like it particularly much. He just needs to get through it.
“Alright.” Chan’s always so bright. Upbeat. Like he absolutely loves waking up in the morning and getting to it. It’s just another part of what makes Chan so very Chan, really. “I’ll leave you to it.”
And there comes the part Jeongin still hasn’t gotten entirely used to. Chan’s hand reaches out, but rather than grab him by the collar or even just a fistful of hair, he simply ruffles up Jeongin’s locks and then promptly leans over to smooth a kiss to the top of his head. A shiver runs down Jeongin’s spine that he barely manages to hide in a stretch so as to not make Chan feel bad.
“Dinner will be ready in about an hour,” Chan tells him just before he disappears back towards the kitchen. “I don’t know if one of your brothers is coming over too. We’ll see that later, I guess.”
Chan’s grin is just as bright as his tone of voice. His eyes seem to almost sparkle. He probably hopes one of Jeongin’s brothers shows up. It always seems to make his day when they do. It kind of makes Jeongin’s day as well. Mainly if it’s Minho, because Minho is cool and Jeongin likes him. Jisung is great as well, of course, but also— Well. Jisung is Chan’s actual son. So. That’s a little strange. Jeongin lives in his room now. Jeongin gets fed by his dad now. Jeongin probably wears some of his old clothes now, too.
Jeongin doesn’t care, of course. He likes Jisung’s old room, likes Jisung’s dad, likes the old clothes too. But it seems weird. Some kid just invading your childhood home and taking all the things that used to be yours.
So he hopes Minho comes over, because at least Minho always makes it feel absolutely normal for Jeongin to live at Chan’s place now. And Minho never actually lived here himself so Jeongin’s not stealing anything from him. Except his peace and quiet, if Minho is to be believed.
By now, Jeongin’s learned that he’s really not.
When the key turns in the lock exactly ten minutes after they’ve sat down for dinner, it’s not Minho coming through the door, but it’s not Jisung either. Changbin enters the way he always does, carefully manoeuvring his bag around the door and then letting it gently fall closed with a nudge of his hip. Jeongin can’t see him, but he can imagine it fine, because it’s the same way he always enters.
There’s some shuffling sounds of Changbin changing his shoes for slippers and then he’s coming around the corner. When his eyes fall on Jeongin, his expression immediately breaks out into a wide smile.
“Jeongin-ah!”
To be fair, Jeongin’s just shoved a spoonful of rice into his mouth so all he can do is lift his free hand and put two fingers to his head in a salute, but he does it while smiling. That should mean something.
Changbin’s grin widening indicates he doesn’t mind, at least. “Yah, this kid always eats so well!” He says instead of anything angry. His hand comes out to ruffle up Jeongin’s hair as well. Halfway through the motion he gets distracted, though, eyes finding Chan on the other chair.
“Have you eaten?” Chan asks before anything else can be said. Jeongin loses interest in their conversation just about then, shovelling more food into his mouth and tuning out whatever the two adults are talking about. Changbin joining for dinner, the gym, Chan’s work, more of those things. There’s nothing much interesting for him there, so he pulls out his phone and watches some of the memes Beomgyu sent him.
“Jeongin-ah?”
The sound of his name makes him look up, mid-bite and wide eyed in surprise. He makes Changbin bark out a laugh but that’s nothing new anymore. Rather than say anything, he offers the man his best stank face before turning a questioning gaze on Chan instead.
Chan’s smiling. Because he’s Chan and he likes seeing the people he loves happy. Changbin is definitely one of the people Chan loves. So naturally when Changbin laughs, Chan is happy. Somehow, when Jeongin eats three servings of dinner without stopping to breathe, Chan is happy too. Maybe it’s got something to do with how he misses having his son at home and Jeongin brings some life back into the house for him.
Either way, Chan’s smiling and Jeongin’s cheeks are stuffed with food that he starts to slowly chew again.
“Is it alright if you’re home alone for a while tomorrow?” Chan asks. Jeongin shrugs his shoulders, gives a nod. “I’ll make sure there’s food in the fridge for you to heat up. You can invite a friend over if you want. I should be back by midnight at the latest.”
Jeongin hums, nods his acceptance and gets back to eating. There’s a brief silence at the table before Changbin huffs out a chuckle.
“Aigoo, our Jeongin’s going to grow so tall!” He claims, like the old man he is, and promptly puts some meat from his own plate onto Jeongin’s spoonful of rice. “Eat up, eat up,” he urges, motioning for Jeongin to put the spoon in his mouth. Chan’s smile is even wider now, probably because he’s also an old man and thinks this is all very endearing. Since Chan’s food is the best Jeongin’s ever eaten, he’s not about to complain, though. The spoon gets emptied into his mouth just seconds later.
The old men’s attention slips away from him with that, so he gets to enjoy the rest of his dinner in peace.
That is, until the food is gone and suddenly the key turns in the lock again. The door is thrown open quite clumsily this time – a classic Jisung entrance. He’s not quiet and careful like Changbin, but loud and present. He’s already calling out a “Hi dad! Hi Jeongin!” before he’s even taken off his shoes and then when he does and no doubt spots the extra pair he adds: “Hi uncle Bin!”
Then his feet are in slippers and he comes shuffling around the corner. He’s already grinning brightly, arms wide as he heads straight for Changbin, who opens up one arm as well and easily pulls him into a sideway hug. Jeongin watches with ample reservation how they squeeze each other tightly before Jisung promptly drops himself full body onto his father’s lap. Chan laughs even as the breath gets punched out of his lungs and embraces his son tightly.
“You’re getting too old for this, Sung,” he complains though Jeongin’s certain no one at the table believes a word of what he’s saying.
“Mainly too big,” a voice contradicts Chan from the entryway and Jeongin’s heart briefly jumps in surprise. When he turns his head, Minho is already almost at the table. The next moment, his left hand covers Jeongin’s eyes, the other settling on his shoulder, squeezing briefly. “Stop traumatising the child,” Minho scolds his family. “I’ve never seen my Yen-ah look so judgemental before in my life. The teenager is disgusted by all of you old men.”
Jeongin lifts his own hand to push Minho’s hand away from his eyes. It goes easily, though the other one lingers on his shoulder. “You’re old too, hyung,” he huffs out, making a face at the entire situation in general. Minho’s fingers briefly pinch the back of his neck but it doesn’t even hurt. Still, he pretends he’s duly scolded by pushing his chair back. “You’re just in time to be too late for dinner, I ate it all. Better luck next time.”
He lifts a hand to his head in another salute at the table in general. “Freeing up my seat for you, hyung,” he makes sure to point out, motioning Minho to his chair. “I’ll be in my room.”
He makes sure to detour past the kitchen counter first so he can grab another one of Felix’s brownies. It’s Changbin’s loud protests about not being given one of them either that accompanies him to his bedroom door.
When it closes, the laughter behind him gets muffled. By the time he’s flopped down on his bed, the noise from the living room has settled, their conversation going back to a normal level. It’s only ever the arrivals that are noisy, and usually mainly when Jeongin is around, as if they’re playing it up for his benefit. Except they’re not playing. He’s learned as much by now. They’re not playing. They’re all just happy to see each other. And him. And they’re making sure he knows.
Another one of those things he had to get used to.
He sends a message to Beomgyu, lets him know the old men are being old men again. When Beomgyu asks if he can get away, he sends back an ‘already in my room bro’ back. Then he adds ‘left my brothers to deal with the elderly’. It always fills him with equal parts apprehension and giddiness to use the term, honestly.
Beomgyu replies with a gif of two grandpas racing their mobility scooters. Jeongin huffs out a laugh and shakes his head, switching back to TikTok to check out some videos on mobility scooter racing.
When he’s gone to the bathroom later to wash up before bed, it’s a choir of four voices that wish him a good night. He looks back briefly, struck by the way all four of them are smiling and looking at him. Ducking his head in surprise, he mumbles a good night wish in return before escaping into his bedroom again.