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Chapter Text

CHAPTER 1: STAT

The hospital’s hallway was unnervingly quiet for 2:15 in the afternoon, save for the relentless squeak of Mingyu’s sneakers against the polished floor. His name was etched in gold on his ID badge, but no one really noticed. To the staff, he was just another pediatric resident, albeit a damned good one. No one even knew he was the heir to the entire hospital. He preferred it that way as his father told him to work his way up.

He held a specimen tube in his gloved hand, adrenaline still coursing through him from the pediatric emergency upstairs—a child, barely six, septic from an undiagnosed UTI. The attending's voice rang in his ears even now.

“STAT. No delays. Get that specimen to the lab. We need results ten minutes ago.” said Doctor Jeonghan, his attending.

The elevators were too slow, so he took the stairs two at a time. His residency badge bounced against his chest, his white coat billowing behind him like a flag of urgency.
Mingyu had always been efficient under pressure. Pediatric medicine demanded that. But nothing prepared him for what was waiting in the lab.
The door swung open with a sharp click, and the sterile scent of chemicals and antiseptics hit him immediately. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. A lone figure stood at the counter, bent over a microscope, gloved hands moving with practiced ease.

And then the figure looked up.

Mingyu froze.

Time fractured. Memory blurred into the sterile now.

“...Wonwoo?”

The name fell from his lips like a prayer he’d sworn never to say aloud again.

Jeon Wonwoo stood still, the ghost of their past between them more tangible than the lab counter. Older now, hair styled neater than Mingyu remembered, cheekbones more defined—but the same beautiful, foxy eyes. The same soft mouth that had whispered “I’m sorry” before disappearing 5 years ago.

He blinked, clearly not expecting to be recognized. Or to see Mingyu.

“Uhmm– Mingyu?,” Wonwoo said carefully, professionally. “Stat specimen?” as he noticed he was panting

Mingyu nearly dropped the tube. His fingers trembled. “You’re—here?”

Wonwoo nodded, slowly, warily. “I’ve been chief med tech here for a year already.”

Mingyu couldn’t look away. Five years. Five whole years. He thought he’d made peace with the past. Buried it under rounds, textbooks, and sleepless nights. But seeing Wonwoo now, alive and real and just inches away—it unraveled something inside him.

Of course. Of course, he had. Mingyu cursed himself silently. It was his father’s hospital. Serenity Medical Center. He should’ve known the moment the board sent him here for his final year of residency. He should’ve looked past the logo and into the staff records.

But he hadn’t. And now, face to face with the only person he’d ever truly loved, he found himself sixteen again. Nineteen again. Twenty-two again—cradling Wonwoo in a sterile hospital room as he cried over a miscarriage they never saw coming.

Mingyu snapped back to reality. “Patient in Pediatrics. Six-year-old. Septic shock. Needs urgent CBC and blood culture.”

Wonwoo reached out without hesitation, their gloved fingers brushing briefly. Mingyu's heart clenched.

Memories slammed into Mingyu like waves—Wonwoo on their tiny college bed, whispering dreams into his neck; the night they cried together over an ultrasound that no longer held life; the plane ticket left on the counter, and a note that simply read:
“I’m sorry. I can’t breathe here anymore. Please don’t look for me. This is what I want and need.”

He never did. Because he thought it was what Wonwoo needed.

But God, did it break him.

Snapping into reality as his pager started beeping, a sign that Jeonghan was looking for him.

“I should go,” Mingyu said, his voice rough with restraint. “The patient—”

Wonwoo nodded once. “I’ll rush the panel. You’ll have it in twenty. I’ll have it delivered to pediatrics”

Mingyu lingered, like he wanted to say something more. But nothing came.

So he turned and walked away, leaving the lab with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking, and a heart that beat the name Jeon Wonwoo with every step.

Outside, he leaned against the corridor wall and exhaled.

So many years had passed.
But some wounds never healed.
Some love stories refused to end.
And today, his past had returned—with a lab coat, and the same eyes he once swore to love forever.

Chapter Text

Five years ago, they had it all.

Med Tech Week was supposed to be all about leadership, responsibility, and institutional pride.

But for Jeon Wonwoo and Kim Mingyu, it became the start of everything.

They were both presidents of their year levels—Wonwoo, the quietly brilliant 2nd-year top student with a poet’s heart and a methodical mind; Mingyu, the effortlessly charming 1st-year whose laugh could split open silence and whose hands could calm the wildest code blue.

Forty student leaders from different levels gathered for the Leadership Training Camp. Twenty red strings. A simple icebreaker: pick one. Find the end of the string which will lead to your partner.

Of course, fate knew no simplicity.

Mingyu tugged on his red string, and the other end tightened around Wonwoo’s fingers.

He looked up.

And it was like the world stopped trying so hard.

They’d fallen in love like stars collapsing—brilliant and fast and too much, too soon. But it worked. Like it was written in anatomy textbooks and dream journals all at once.

During breaks in the camp, they would talk under the trees about anything and everything—about failed experiments, childhood dreams, the future after board exams.

Wonwoo wrote a poem on a napkin and slipped it into Mingyu’s notebook:

"You are the centrifuge of my chaos, the reagent that makes everything clearer."

Mingyu still had it folded in his wallet.

After the camp, they were inseparable. People noticed.

Mingyu would show up every morning at Wonwoo’s apartment, steering wheel in one hand, flowers in the other.

“Just because,” he’d say every time he handed him flowers, and Wonwoo would blush every single time.

They were annoyingly perfect: top of every exam, winners of every lab competition, organizers of every party, the seminar, the bloodletting drive.

Mingyu helped Wonwoo study by turning notes into songs. Wonwoo surprised Mingyu with handwritten flashcards decorated in tiny anatomical doodles.

Fights happened—over exhaustion, missed texts, or overcooked ramen—but Mingyu never raised his voice. He’d sit quietly until Wonwoo calmed down, then pull him close and say, “I love you even when we’re messy.”

And when nights grew late and lonely, Mingyu waited.

Outside classrooms.

On benches after 10 p.m. labs.

Even in the pouring rain once, holding an umbrella over both of them as Wonwoo cried about getting a 93 instead of a 95 in Clinical Parasitology.

They had the kind of love that made people believe again.

—-----------------

It was after a long day of meetings—planning for the upcoming year-end party.

The council was celebrating with cheap vodka and karaoke in the back room of the lab.

Everyone laughed, sang off-key, spilled chips and punch.

One by one, students slipped out, some giggling, some barely able to walk.

Eventually, only two remained.

Wonwoo sat cross-legged on a table, swinging his legs, cheeks flushed from two drinks too many.

Mingyu stood by the glass door, turning the key to lock up.

“They left us to clean,” Wonwoo said, fake-pouting.

Mingyu laughed, leaning against the table between Wonwoo’s knees. “They trust us.”

Wonwoo rested his forehead on Mingyu’s shoulder, mumbling, “You smell like reagent and sunshine.”

“Hot,” Mingyu grinned. “Very sexy.”

“Shut up,” Wonwoo laughed, then lifted his head—and found Mingyu already watching him.

Something shifted.

The lab lights hummed softly above them.

It was too quiet, too late, and suddenly, they were the only two people in the world.

When Mingyu kissed him, it was like gravity gave up.

Wonwoo pulled him closer, arms wrapped tight around his neck, and their laughter melted into something heavier, sweeter.

Mingyu lifted Wonwoo gently onto the lab counter, hands sliding beneath his shirt, mouths meeting like they’d done this a hundred times, but never quite like this—urgent and open, raw with longing.

Wonwoo's thighs parted, and Mingyu stepped between them, deepening the kiss until the taste of vodka disappeared, replaced by something far more intoxicating.

“You sure, baby?” Mingyu whispered, breath hitching.

Wonwoo nodded, lips brushing his. “Always.”

The next moments were heat and breath and tangled limbs—love expressed without words, promises whispered against skin, the kind of touch that feels like forever.

They moved like they knew each other’s bodies as well as they knew their textbooks.

“Baby, you are so beautiful, every part of you is beautiful, you are the epitome of perfection,” Mingyu said as his hands traveled through every part of Wonwoo.

Wonwoo chuckled, “You have an exam on anatomy tomorrow, right? Use my body and study it well.”

Mingyu laughed and turned wild as he reached for the test tube and said to Wonwoo, “Baby, you wouldn’t mind me using this to prep you, right?”

Wonwoo hesitated but eventually chuckled and nodded.

“Ba– Ughh– deeper..”

“Wa… ahhh. More…”

“You…. ahhh… ugh.. Want you..”

Wonwoo’s moans filled the room.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to Wonwoo’s chest, right over his heart. “I could chart every beat of you and still get lost.”

Wonwoo shivered beneath him. “Then do it. Diagnose me.”

“You’re tachycardic,” Mingyu murmured, sliding his hand lower. “And dangerously wet.”

Wonwoo’s laugh turned into a moan. “Then treat me, Dr. Kim.”

Their mouths met again, hungrier this time.

Mingyu's touch was confident, but careful—like sterilizing a wound before suture.

His fingertips danced along Wonwoo’s inner thighs with the precision of someone used to holding fragile samples.

But this wasn’t fragile.

This was alive, pulsing, insistent.

And then Wonwoo whispered, needy and trembling, “I need you inside. Fill me like an empty vacutainer.”

Mingyu groaned, forehead resting against Wonwoo’s. “That is the nerdiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You love it.”

He did.

He loved him.

Their bodies met, aligned, melted.

Each thrust was an echo of remembered promises, each moan a data point on a graph of desire that climbed into something exponential.

Skin slick, breath sharp, and hearts stuttering like faulty EKGs, they moved together as if they were written into each other’s anatomy.

Wonwoo wrapped his legs around Mingyu’s waist, head tilted back, lips parted in a gasp.

“Deeper,” he choked, “you’re hitting—ah—my posterior wall—”

Mingyu chuckled darkly. “That your official report?”

Wonwoo couldn’t answer.

He was arching, trembling, unraveling.

And when they came—together—it was a full-body response, the kind that left the nervous system firing long after.

Aftershocks trembled through them both as Mingyu held him close, arms tight, heart louder than any stethoscope could catch.

Wonwoo whispered into his chest, “You’ve contaminated me. Irreversibly.”

Mingyu kissed the top of his head. “Then we’re both positive.”

And when they came undone—together—it wasn’t just pleasure.

It was devotion.

It was the kind of night that left ghosts behind.

—--------------------

It started with nausea.

Not the kind brought on by bad cafeteria food or late-night cramming over Biochem pathways.

It was different.

Heavier.

Like a warning whispered deep in his cells.

Wonwoo had tried to dismiss it—he’d always been a little sensitive to smells, especially in the lab—but when he gagged at the scent of hematoxylin one morning, he knew.

And when he was late—really late—he knew, too.

It was a Sunday when he bought the test, as he was convinced by Hoshi, his best friend, slipping into a drugstore two neighborhoods away, hoodie up, heart racing faster than a 150 bpm tachyarrhythmia.

Back in his apartment, hands trembling, he stared at the white stick until the two lines bled into focus.

Positive.

Pregnant.

He was pregnant.

His hands flew to his belly as if it might already be visible.

But of course it wasn’t.

He was still just Wonwoo—top student, MTS Council president, clinical lab intern, and now… an expectant father, if only barely.

If only he knew what to do with that truth.

Mingyu took the news better than he’d feared.

Wonwoo had expected silence.

Shock.

A demand to fix it.

“Baby, I don’t want to pressure you into raising a kid. I am sorry for not being too careful. If you don’t want this, we can put a stop to this, okay?” Mingyu said as he hugged Wonwoo who was unable to talk and just kept crying.

“No… I am just scared that you didn’t want this, that you’d leave me,” Wonwoo said in between sobs.

“Baby, I would never leave you…” Mingyu said while kissing his forehead.

Mingyu had knelt before him, hands on his still flat belly.

“We’ll get through this,” he said. “I’m with you. Every step.”

And he meant it.

They talked long into the night, huddled under sheets with the glow of Mingyu’s phone lighting up OB forums and fetal development charts.

They knew it wouldn’t be easy—especially since Wonwoo’s pregnancy was unlike most—but neither of them backed down from a challenge.

The first decision was school.

Mingyu wanted him to stop immediately.

"Your body’s doing the most important job in the world now. You shouldn’t be standing for hours or stressing over bacteriology exams."

But Wonwoo had that look in his eyes.

That stubborn, burning look that always lit up when he was about to prove someone wrong.

“I’ll stop when my bump shows, I am already near my 4th year.” he said firmly, resting a hand on his stomach.

“Until then, I want to feel like myself. Like me.”

Mingyu sighed, already defeated.

“Fine. But I’m walking you to class, packing your lunch, and talking to your professors.”

“Deal,” Wonwoo grinned, pressing a kiss to Mingyu’s cheek.

“You’re going to be such a soft dad.”

They started collecting small things—a pair of socks shaped like strawberries, a bib that said Future MedTech, a plush giraffe.

And when the first ultrasound confirmed a steady heartbeat, they clung to each other in the hallway outside the clinic and cried.

“We’re really doing this,” Mingyu whispered into Wonwoo’s hair.

“We are.”

They found out it was a girl at five months.

Mingyu nearly passed out from excitement.

“She’s going to be beautiful,” he kept saying, scrolling through name lists every night.

Wonwoo laughed.

“She already is.”

They started calling her Bean, short for jellybean.

Wonwoo swore he could feel her turning whenever Mingyu sang during dishwashing or read aloud from his pathology notes.

The first time Wonwoo felt her kick, they were lying on the floor of Mingyu’s room, a soft melody playing from Mingyu’s phone, textbooks open but forgotten.

“She just kicked,” Wonwoo gasped, wide-eyed.

Mingyu dropped his pen.

“Seriously? Like, for real?”

He placed both hands gently over the bump, breath held like the world was made of glass.

Then—there.

A soft thud against his palm.

“Hi, Bean,” he whispered, tears slipping down his cheeks.

“Appa’s here.”

By month six, Wonwoo had stopped going to school.

His bump was prominent, and Mingyu took it upon himself to be full-time boyfriend, bodyguard, and bean chef.

He’d rub Wonwoo’s back when it hurt.

Help him waddle around the apartment.

Sneak in kisses between every contraction of discomfort.

They took weekly photos of the bump.

Mingyu framed the best one, captioned: 7 months and glowing.

They were happy.

So happy it scared them.

And then it all started to unravel.

Wonwoo had stayed up one night—he hadn’t told Mingyu—to finish notes for his class president replacement.

He was exhausted, emotionally and physically, but couldn’t bear the thought of leaving loose ends.

The next morning, the bleeding started.

Mingyu’s scream could’ve cracked stone when he saw the red on the sheets.

The rush to the hospital was a blur.

Emergency OB.

Internal bleeding.

Fetal distress.

By the time the doctor returned to the hallway where Mingyu paced, covered in stress sweat and silent prayers—

It was too late.

“We lost her,” the doctor said softly. “We did everything we could.”

The world stopped.

Mingyu walked into the room, pale and shaking.

Wonwoo was curled on his side, staring at nothing.

Pale.

Empty.

“She’s gone,” he said.

Mingyu crawled into the bed behind him, wrapped his arms around him, and whispered her name into his neck.

“Our Bean…”

He stayed that way for hours.

Days.

Wonwoo didn’t speak.

Didn’t cry.

Didn’t eat.

He lay in bed with his back to the world, and not even Mingyu could reach him.

For a week, Mingyu cooked every meal, brushed Wonwoo’s hair, read to him, held him through the night when he’d shake in his sleep.

He did everything.

But nothing worked.

Wonwoo's guilt had calcified into something unreachable.

And one morning, Mingyu woke up alone.

Wonwoo’s things were gone.

There was a note on the kitchen table, written in his signature small handwriting.

I’m sorry, Min. Please let me go. This is what I need and want.
You deserved more than a broken love and an empty crib.
I love you. That’s never changed.
Goodbye.

The letter shattered Mingyu.

Five years later…

Kim Mingyu still kept the note.

Folded inside his planner.

Jeon Wonwoo walked back into the hospital—older, harder, carrying the weight of all they lost.

Their story wasn’t over.

It was just beginning again.

Chapter Text

Kim Mingyu had never asked his father for anything personal.

He didn’t need to. The Kim legacy paved a smooth path: from his undergraduate years to medical school, to the family-owned hospital bearing their name. Mingyu earned everything by merit, not connection—and he never wanted to be seen as someone who took shortcuts.

But on his second day as a resident at the Hospital, he broke his rule.

He asked his father for a private favor.

Just one.

“I need a one-on-one with your Chief Medical Technologist. Jeon Wonwoo.”
“Why?”
“Because I never got answers. And I deserve to know the truth.”

His father had paused. Studied his son’s face carefully—how the name alone had unraveled years of carefully held composure. And then, with a simple nod, he agreed.

No files. No protocol. No judgment.

Mingyu didn’t sleep the night before. His chest was tight with a mix of fear, longing, and something he hadn’t felt since college—hope.

The man who walked into the laboratory that morning wasn’t the giddy boy who brought "just because" flowers or recited lab values with his arm wrapped around Wonwoo’s waist. He was older now. More guarded. But the ache inside his chest hadn’t dulled.

He held another specimen in one hand and a tremor of fate in the other.

The hallway to the lab was silent. Morning shift had just begun, and Mingyu’s sneakers squeaked faintly against polished tile.

The lab doors hissed open.

And there he was.

Standing by the microscope, adjusting the condenser like he had a thousand times before. His profile was sharper now—mature, measured—but Mingyu would’ve known that face in any lifetime.

Jeon Wonwoo looked up.

Their eyes met.

The world stopped.

For a moment, no one said a word.

Mingyu’s heart felt like it was beating out of rhythm, erratic and painful. He couldn't decide if he was angry, relieved, or dreaming.

“...Wonwoo,” he whispered, as if saying the name would collapse the years between them.

Wonwoo stiffened. His eyes flickered to the badge clipped to Mingyu’s white coat.

Dr. Kim Mingyu, Pediatrics.

So it was true.

This was the Kim Hospital.
This was his hospital.
He was back on the very ground he once fled from, unknowingly walking into the legacy of the man whose heart he’d shattered.

“You're... the resident assigned here?” Wonwoo finally asked, voice quiet but steady.

Mingyu swallowed, nodding. “Pediatrics.”

They stared at each other, both unsure how to move forward.

“I didn’t know this was your family’s hospital,” Wonwoo said, as if that explained anything.

Mingyu blinked. “I didn’t know you were back.”

A beat.

Silence.

Then—Mingyu stepped forward, slowly, like approaching a skittish animal. “You left.”

“I had to,” Wonwoo said.

“You could’ve said goodbye.”

“I couldn’t,” he replied, voice tight. “I would’ve stayed.” Wonwoo said while holding back tears

Mingyu placed the specimen tube gently on the table.

“I thought about you,” he admitted. “Every day. Even when I tried not to.”

Wonwoo's fingers trembled over the edge of the counter. “I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see you again.”

“Yet here we are.”

Another silence.

Then Mingyu asked the one question that burned in his chest:

“Are you okay now?”

Wonwoo didn’t answer immediately. His eyes dropped to the counter, then rose again, soft with regret and something that might’ve been longing.

“I’m not the same,” he said. “But I’m surviving.”

Mingyu stepped closer. “You look like someone who hasn’t slept in three days.”

“I’m still a workaholic,” Wonwoo offered, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Some things don’t change.”

Mingyu chuckled bitterly. “No. They don’t.”

It could’ve ended there—awkward, unresolved, the sting of the past still fresh.

But Mingyu reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled something out.

It was an old, faded photo.

The one of Wonwoo sitting cross-legged on their supposed to be house, six months pregnant, cradling his bump and laughing.

Wonwoo froze.

“I kept it,” Mingyu said. “All this time. Just in case…”

He trailed off.

Wonwoo stepped closer, eyes misting over as he gently touched the corner of the photo.

“Bean,” he whispered.

They both smiled.

And then cried.

Not like the grief of the past. Not like the screaming, broken days after losing everything.

But quiet, shaking tears of recognition.

Of stillness.

Of hope.

After a long silence, Mingyu spoke again—softly, like a confession.

“I don’t want to pressure you. I just want... the truth. What really happened back then. Why you left. Why you never wrote. Why you made me grieve alone even when I wanted to grieve with you.”

Wonwoo’s breath hitched.

“I don’t need you to love me again,” Mingyu added. “I just need to know. Because even if I could forget everything else—our house, our little routines, the way you’d fall asleep with your nose buried in your notes—I can’t forget losing Bean. And I can’t forget losing you.”

Tears fell freely now.

Wonwoo stepped around the counter.

And this time, he didn’t run.

Chapter Text

He hadn’t expected to see Mingyu again.

Certainly not here—not in this place, where every corner was branded with the Kim legacy, where each hallway whispered memories of the life they never got to live.

But fate, cruel and strange, had brought him back to the man he’d left behind.

And now, Mingyu was asking for the one thing Wonwoo had refused to give all these years:

The truth.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They sat in silence on the rooftop garden above the west wing of the hospital, not open to the public, just for them, as per the order of Mingyu's father. Morning light washed over the city skyline, but all Wonwoo could see was Mingyu—leaning forward, elbows on his knees, waiting with patient, open pain.

Wonwoo folded his hands tightly in his lap.

“I didn’t leave because I stopped loving you,” he said finally. “I left because I loved you too much.”

Mingyu looked up slowly. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t rush him.

So Wonwoo let the words fall like rain.

“I had nothing left,” he began. “After we lost Bean... I wasn’t myself. I blamed myself for everything.”

Mingyu shook his head, but Wonwoo stopped him with a look.

“No. Let me finish.”

He took a deep breath.

“I’d spent days daydreaming until my vision blurred. I’d skipped meals, pushed through fevers, ignored the signs. I thought if I worked harder, Bean would be proud of me when she came out into the world. I wanted to be a good parent. I wanted to be worthy.”

His voice cracked. “But it was my body that failed her.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Mingyu whispered, but his voice was breaking, too.

Wonwoo didn’t hear it. He was lost in memory.

“I remember the exact moment I knew she was gone. I was in the shower. I felt something warm and heavy between my thighs, and I knew... I knew something had gone horribly wrong.”

Tears slid down his cheek.

“I called you, remember? You ran through three red lights to get to me. You carried me down the stairs barefoot because I was shaking too much to move. You held my hand the whole time they wheeled me into emergency OB. I can still vividly remember and hear your screams that day when you saw the sheets covered in blood.”

Mingyu reached for him instinctively, but stopped short—waiting.

Wonwoo met his eyes.

“You were everything I needed. And that’s why I couldn’t stay.”

He stood up slowly, pacing the edge of the garden.

“You had dreams. Residency. Pediatrics. You were going to be an incredible doctor. And I—I was this shell of a person who couldn’t look at himself in the mirror without seeing failure.”

“I never saw you that way,” Mingyu said firmly.

“But I did,” Wonwoo whispered. “And that’s what mattered.”

“I didn’t have anyone left, Mingyu. My parents had passed years ago. My relatives didn’t know—couldn’t know—what I had been through. I had no home, no family, no identity outside of us. And when Bean died… I lost both of you.”

He finally turned to face him again.

“I left not because I wanted to erase you. I left because I couldn’t live with what I’d done to our life.”

Mingyu’s voice cracked. “You didn’t do anything.”

“I lost her,” Wonwoo repeated. “That’s all I could think. Every single day, for months. I couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. And I couldn’t watch you try to hold me together when I was already gone inside.”

Silence fell between them.

This time, Mingyu stood and stepped closer.

“Do you think I didn’t break, too?” he asked softly. “Do you think I didn’t cry every night for both of you? I didn’t just lose Bean, Wonwoo. I lost you. And I would've given up everything to keep you both.”

Wonwoo’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“I know that now,” he whispered. “But back then, I was drowning. I thought letting you go was the only way to set you free.”

“You didn’t set me free,” Mingyu said. “You locked me in the past.”

The rooftop air was still.

The pain between them was still raw—but now, it had shape. A name. A reason.

Wonwoo stepped forward until he could reach for Mingyu’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything I never said. For leaving. For the silence. I was afraid that if I let you see how broken I was, you’d stop loving me.”

Mingyu pulled him into a hug so tight it knocked the air from his lungs.

“I never stopped,” he whispered. “Even when I begged myself to.”

Wonwoo held on.

For the first time in years, he let himself believe that maybe... maybe this story wasn’t over.

Chapter Text

For the first few days, it was awkward.

Not painfully so, but enough that the hospital air felt tight whenever they were near each other. Mingyu respected the silence, and Wonwoo didn’t push past it. Their rooftop talk had opened a door, but neither of them quite knew how to walk through it.

They shared glances—soft, searching ones.
They exchanged words—professional, careful, but warmer than before.
And every so often, a smile would bloom between them like spring breaking through a frost.

It was slow. It was fragile. But it was real.

And then, on a random day, Wonwoo asked him:

“Can we go visit her?”

Mingyu didn’t speak at first. He just nodded.

The cemetery was quiet. Early morning fog curled around the trimmed hedges and stone angels. They walked side by side in silence, hands occasionally brushing, but never quite holding.

They stopped in front of the small granite marker engraved with words:

Baby Magdiel Jeon-Kim — Forever Loved.

Wonwoo dropped to his knees, brushing away fallen petals from a nearby tree.

It had been years. And yet, it felt like no time had passed at all.

Mingyu placed a bouquet of white tulips gently at the base of the stone. “You picked these for her once,” he murmured. “Back when we still thought she’d look like you.”

Wonwoo laughed softly, tears already slipping. “You said she’d have my resting bitch face.”

“And your pout. But my dimples.” Mingyu smiled.
"Thank you for naming her this pretty name." Wonwoo said.
"Fruit chosen by God indeed." Mingyu replied

They stayed for a long time, talking in whispers to the memory of their daughter. It didn’t fix everything. But it made breathing a little easier.

Later that day, they visited the house they once called home.

Now it belonged to Jeonghan and Seungcheol—Mingyu’s closest friends, and now, in some small way, keepers of the past. The second bedroom remained untouched.

“It’s still hers,” Jeonghan said softly. “We never changed it.”

Wonwoo walked through the hallways like a man exploring a memory. He touched the edges of old photo frames, leaned into the doorframe of what would've been Bean’s nursery, and smiled through tears.

It hurt.
But it also healed.

That night, they returned to the hospital.

The quiet between them wasn’t silence anymore—it was comfort.

And then came the emergency.

A pediatric trauma case. Seven years old. Possible appendicitis. High fever. Elevated heart rate.

Mingyu moved fast, his long coat whipping behind him as he jogged toward the nurse’s station.

“STAT CBC and blood typing,” he told Nurse Joshua, who nodded and handed off the chart.

“Wonwoo’s in,” Joshua said, smirking a little. “Should I call Cupid too, or is this just a strictly medical situation?”

“Shut up,” Mingyu mumbled, ears pink.

From across the lab, Seungkwan chimed in through the intercom:
“Paging Dr. Tall-Handsome-Tragic and Chief Hot-and-Brooding—your favorite love song is playing in hematology.”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes. “I hate all of you.” while humming to the song Iris by Goo Goo Dolls.

But when Mingyu walked into the lab, breathless, Wonwoo was already prepping the analyzer. “I’ve got the machine ready. Give me the tube.”

They moved in tandem. Wordless coordination, muscle memory. The same rhythm they’d once had in university competitions, now redirected into saving a child’s life.

Mingyu handled the patient with calm warmth, his smile disarming even the most anxious parents. And when the little girl flinched at the idea of another blood draw, Wonwoo knelt down to her level and whispered:

“Don’t worry. I’m the best there is.”

True to his word, the needle slipped in without a single tear.

“You guys are like a dream team,” Joshua whispered later, nudging Seungkwan. “The kids love them.”

“The parents too,” Seungkwan added. “You see that lady asking if Mingyu’s single? Poor girl didn’t stand a chance.”

It wasn’t just the kids or nurses who noticed.

Later that evening, as Mingyu checked in on an elderly guardian watching over her granddaughter recovering from dengue, Wonwoo walked in with the latest lab results.

The old woman looked between them, eyes twinkling.

“You two married?”

They both stiffened.

Wonwoo smiled politely. “We’re colleagues.”

“Ah,” she said, not buying it. “Shame. With your faces, your babies would be heartbreakers. Tall, handsome, and smart. I bet they'd be brilliant.”

Mingyu’s expression flickered. His voice softened. “Ma’am...”

But he didn’t finish. He was cautious, glancing at Wonwoo, afraid to cross a line, to reopen wounds that weren’t healed.

Unbeknownst to him, Wonwoo wasn’t wounded anymore.

He was ready for this kind of conversation.

He looked at the elderly woman, then at Mingyu—and smiled, gently.

“We actually had one,” he said. “A little girl. She’s in heaven now.”

Mingyu froze.

Wonwoo turned toward him, eyes glimmering with something fragile but brave. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “We can talk about her now.”

A pause.

Then, with a small smile:

“I want her to be known. She deserves to be known.”

Chapter Text

They never really talked about it—how their shifts started ending at the same time. How they started walking out together, their footsteps in quiet sync as they left the hospital each night. It just… happened.

So when Mingyu asked, “Want to go somewhere on our day off?”
Wonwoo said yes before even thinking.

They took Mingyu’s car—same model as the one he used to drive in college, though a newer version. As if parts of him refused to change, even now.

The café hadn’t changed either.

Same fairy lights, same chipped wooden tables, same barista who blinked three times when he recognized them.

“You two—wait—are you... back?”

Mingyu just smiled. “Something like that.”

Wonwoo chuckled as they slid into their old corner booth. “You were always the people’s prince. Everyone remembered you.”

Mingyu grinned, reaching across the table to brush invisible lint off Wonwoo’s collar. “Only wanted one person to remember me.”

Wonwoo flushed, biting back a smile. “Corny.”

“Still worked.”

They stayed for hours.

They ordered all their old favorites—two iced Americanos, one red velvet slice to share, and the garlic cheese bread they always fought over.

Wonwoo had brought along a beat-up envelope, and halfway through the afternoon, he pulled out a pile of their old MedTech notes.

“You kept these?” Mingyu asked, stunned.

“You used to write me stupid love notes in the margins,” Wonwoo replied, flipping one open.

Sure enough, on the corner of a hematology handout:

“RBC count = how many times I think about kissing you during class ❤️”

Mingyu groaned and buried his face in his hands. “I was insufferable.”

“And you still are,” came a familiar voice behind them.

Jeonghan.

And right beside him—Seungcheol, grinning wide as he leaned over their table. “You two are disgusting. Love it.”

“What are you doing here?” Mingyu asked, laughing.

“We have eyes and hospital gossip networks,” Jeonghan said. “You think we wouldn’t notice the coffee dates and synchronized departures?”

“Plus, Joshua says your puppy eyes returned,” Seungcheol added. “So we had to see for ourselves. By the way let's go straight to our house after this we've got some big announcement to make."

The living room was chaos in the best way.

Joshua and DK arrived hand-in-hand, Joshua glowing with that permanent honeymoon aura and DK beaming like the sun itself. “Married life’s great!” DK declared as soon as he walked in. “We’re thinking of adopting a cat.”

Jun and Hao followed shortly, looking smug and suspiciously well-dressed. “Don’t ask what we were doing before this,” Hao said with a wink.

Seungkwan and Vernon entered a few minutes later, showing off their engagement rings like it was the Met Gala. “He cried,” Seungkwan teased, pointing at Vernon. “I have video proof.”

Vernon didn’t even deny it.

Hoshi and Woozi arrived last, both already bickering.

“Stop touching my hair,” Woozi hissed.

“I’m fixing it!” Hoshi argued.

“You’re making it worse.”

“You’re literally dating me for this exact chaotic energy—”

“I regret everything.”

Mingyu laughed so hard he nearly fell over. Wonwoo watched him from the couch, heart blooming at the sound.

And then, Jeonghan stood in the center of the room, hands resting protectively over his stomach.

“I wanted to tell you all together,” he said, smiling.

“Seungcheol and I are having a baby.”

Silence—then chaos again.

Screams, cheers, hugs. Seungcheol wiping tears and then threatening to cry again. Jeonghan pretending to be annoyed but clearly glowing.

Mingyu watched them all, arms crossed, shoulders shaking from laughter.

And then his hand found Wonwoo’s—naturally, instinctively.

No one even blinked at it.

Later that evening, the 13 of them sat around the firepit in Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s backyard. Someone had pulled out a guitar. Dino, feet up on the bench, was talking about his idol trainee life.

“One day,” he said, “I’m gonna sell out stadiums. You’ll all get VIP passes, obviously.”

“You better,” Jun quipped. “I’m gonna brag about knowing you before you had abs.”

“You think I don’t have abs right now?”

Everyone groaned.

But it was perfect.

These were the people who had seen everything—from late-night exam breakdowns to love stories, breakups, and healing.

They had all seen Mingyu and Wonwoo fall in love in their campus years.

They were the only ones who knew the full story.

And now, they were here again—watching them fall back in step, like no time had passed at all.

Back at the hospital, the atmosphere shifted subtly.

It started with the nurses—Joshua and Seungkwan—who noticed the way Mingyu would hover by the lab after his rounds.

“How’s our favorite pediatrician doing?” Seungkwan asked one morning, sing-song voice loaded with knowing.

“Fine,” Mingyu replied, pretending to organize files.

“Sure,” Joshua said. “And this ‘fine’ has nothing to do with the fact that Wonwoo walked by two seconds ago?”

Mingyu flushed.

“God,” he muttered, “it’s like high school.”

Seungkwan just patted his shoulder. “Except this time, you better not mess it up.”

Patients noticed too.

Especially the kids.

They adored Dr. Kim and Mr. Jeon—the dream team.

“Dr. Kim gives the best stickers!” one child declared.

“But Mr. Jeon makes the blood test not hurt,” another added.

Mingyu would chuckle, and Wonwoo would roll his eyes affectionately. But when their hands brushed during one IV prep, neither of them pulled away.

During one break, Jeonghan flopped onto the bench beside Wonwoo in the lounge. “So, how’s it feel to be romanced by Kim Mingyu again?”

“Feels... familiar,” Wonwoo admitted.

“Familiar like kissing, or familiar like commitment?” Seungcheol asked, wiggling his brows.

“Hyung—!” Mingyu protested from the vending machine.

But even as they teased, there was love in their voices. The kind that only lifelong friends carried—the kind that said we see it, and we’re rooting for you.

Mingyu didn’t hold back. Not this time.

He still brought “just because” flowers—except now they came with soft hospital-themed puns like “You must be a stat specimen, because my heart races every time I see you.”

He still carried an extra umbrella when clouds loomed.

He still waited until Wonwoo finished every single shift, even if it meant falling asleep in the lab hallway, long legs folded under him, lab coat crumpled like a pillow.

And when Wonwoo forgot to eat?

Mingyu brought bento boxes. And juice. And snacks. “You don’t argue with a pediatrician,” he’d say, crossing his arms.

And Wonwoo, who used to be so guarded, smiled more and more.

One evening, they found themselves walking around campus. Their old one. Just to see it.

The MedTech building was the same.

They found the hallway where they’d first met during leadership training. They even peeked into the lab where they’d once done a “celebratory” experiment that definitely wasn’t sanctioned.

Mingyu laughed. “God, we were stupid.”

Wonwoo’s voice was quieter. “But we were happy.”

A pause.

“Do you think,” he said slowly, “we could be happy again?”

Mingyu’s steps slowed.

He looked at Wonwoo.

Really looked.

At the way his eyes held grief and love in equal measure. At the way his fingers were no longer clenched, but open. Ready.

“Could we still have a future?” Wonwoo asked, voice almost breaking.

Mingyu took a step closer.

“No,” he said, gently. “We don’t still have one.”

He reached for Wonwoo’s hand.

“We never stopped having one.”

And when Wonwoo leaned in—tired, hopeful, trembling—they kissed. Not like first love. Not like goodbye.

But like a door opening.

Like coming home.

Chapter Text

The hospital drive was announced with the usual fanfare: international initiative, clinical outreach abroad, three-day medical mission in partnership with a local university hospital and the regional public health department.

And of course, the top picks were announced by name in a memo posted in the residents' lounge:

Dr. Kim Mingyu – Pediatrics
Mr. Jeon Wonwoo – Chief Med Tech

Seungkwan gasped dramatically.

“Someone is manifesting a love story arc,” he said, flipping the paper around to face Mingyu. “You did this.”

Mingyu raised his hands. “I didn’t even submit my name!”

“Oh, please,” Joshua chimed in. “You’re Head of Pediatrics now for this project and we all know Mr. Jeon’s blood work has magical properties. You rigged this.”

“I did not.”

“Then explain this,” Seungkwan said, pointing at the bottom line of the itinerary.

Room Sharing Assignments: Dr. Kim & Mr. Jeon – Room 602, Oceanview

Mingyu cleared his throat, not looking anyone in the eye.

“Logistical shortage,” he mumbled.

“Liar,” Joshua coughed into his fist.

Wonwoo gripped the armrest tightly, his knuckles pale as the plane began to taxi down the runway. The seatbelt sign dinged overhead, and even though they’d only just started moving, sweat already pooled in his palms.

He hated flying.

Always had.

And yet here he was—on a trip halfway across the world, assigned to a mission that demanded his calm precision under pressure.

Mingyu noticed immediately.

“Hey,” he said softly, nudging him with an elbow. “You okay?”

Wonwoo exhaled slowly, keeping his eyes forward. “I’ll be fine once we’re in the air.”

“You’re terrified.”

“I’m trying not to be.”

Without hesitation, Mingyu reached over and gently placed his hand over Wonwoo’s, prying his fingers away from the armrest.

“Breathe with me, okay?”

Wonwoo blinked at him.

“Come on,” Mingyu whispered, squeezing his hand. “Four seconds in. Hold. Four seconds out.”

Wonwoo followed. One breath. Then another. His heart slowly began to settle.

“You’ve done scarier things,” Mingyu whispered with a grin. “Like presenting your thesis in front of three grumpy pathologists and not fainting.”

“That was terrifying,” Wonwoo muttered.

Mingyu chuckled. “You aced it.”

He didn’t let go of Wonwoo’s hand until the seatbelt sign turned off.

And even then… he let their fingers stay loosely laced together.

Room 602 was, in Mingyu’s words, “cozy.”

It had two beds. One queen, one daybed.

“I’ll take the small one,” Mingyu offered on the first night, tossing his bag near the couch.

Wonwoo blinked. “You’re six feet tall.”

“I’ll survive.”

“I’ll take it tomorrow.”

“Nope. I called it.”

“…You’re impossible.”

“And yet you still came.”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it.

That night, after the first full day of treating patients, they returned to the room utterly exhausted.

Wonwoo was the first to finish showering, stepping out in soft shorts and a towel over his head. Mingyu emerged twenty minutes later, hair wet, wearing a tank top and pajama pants that sat dangerously low on his hips.

Wonwoo caught himself staring.

And blushed.

“I ordered food,” Mingyu said casually, drying his hair. “From the beach shack down the road. You okay with chicken and ramen?”

“You remembered?”

Mingyu smiled. “Of course I remembered.”

After dinner, they stood on the balcony, ocean breeze sweeping in, the faint sound of waves crashing under a full moon.

Wonwoo leaned on the railing, arms crossed.

“You know,” he said quietly, “it feels unreal sometimes.”

Mingyu looked at him.

“This. Us. Working side by side again. Not as students. Not as broken people.”

Mingyu stepped beside him, close but not touching.

“We’re not broken anymore,” he said. “Just… different versions of ourselves.”

Wonwoo turned to him then, really looked at him.

“Mingyu.”

“Yeah?”

“Why this room?”

Mingyu didn’t answer right away.

“I needed space to talk to you. Away from the hospital. From everyone else,” he admitted. “I just… I wanted time. Just us. And besides I know you love the ocean.”

Wonwoo’s breath caught.

“That night before you left,” Mingyu continued, voice low, “I begged the universe for one more moment with you. Just one. And now that you’re here again… I’m scared of wasting it.”

Wonwoo didn’t say anything at first.

Then he reached for Mingyu’s hand.

“We’re not wasting anything,” he whispered. “We’re reclaiming it.”

The next morning, they ran a pediatrics and med tech workshop together for the local staff—demoing proper pediatric phlebotomy techniques and trauma-informed care for kids. A crowd of local doctors, interns, and students gathered around, amazed at how seamlessly they moved together.

By noon, word had spread.

“They’re incredible.”
“That pedia-med tech combo? Unreal.”
“Are they… married?”
“They have to be together.”
“They even finish each other’s sentences!”

By the time they ended the workshop, the applause was loud and heartfelt.

And as they stepped down from the platform, a young doctor approached and asked to take a photo of “the power duo.”

Mingyu glanced at Wonwoo, unsure.

But Wonwoo surprised him—he stepped in, arm around Mingyu’s waist, nodding with a soft smile.

“Take it,” he said. “We don’t mind.”

That night, back in Room 602, they lay on the bed—the big one, this time, side by side.

Wonwoo held the printed photo between his fingers.

“We look happy,” he said.

“We are happy,” Mingyu corrected.

Wonwoo turned to him, heart in his throat.

“Mingyu?”

“Hm?”

"Let's swim."

The evening was cool, the stars scattered across the sky in gentle waves.

And the pool?

Still. Quiet. Deserted.

Most of the staff had gone to bed or wandered off to a karaoke bar. But Mingyu and Wonwoo stayed behind, sitting at the edge with their feet in the water, half-drunk on coconut cocktails and exhaustion.

“You always loved night swims,” Mingyu said, swirling his feet lazily.

Wonwoo leaned back on his elbows, eyes on the moonlit water. “Only when you were around.”

A comfortable silence passed between them. The kind that held years of unspoken feelings.

Then, softly:

“I still dream about her sometimes,” Wonwoo said. “Our baby.”

Mingyu turned, heart aching.

“Me too.”

“She’d be 5 now, turning 6” Wonwoo added, voice steady but wistful. “Probably bossing us both around.”

Mingyu smiled sadly. “Definitely a sassy kid.”

They looked at each other—two souls carrying the same loss, now learning how to carry it together.

And then, without a word, Mingyu leaned in.

Their kiss was slow, reverent—like two people rediscovering each other’s rhythm.

Wonwoo shifted closer, their bodies warm against the night air, their kisses deepening with every breath.

It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t desperate.

It was full of the quiet intensity of love rediscovered.

Wonwoo’s breath hitched as Mingyu kissed down his neck, each press of lips like a promise. Fingers intertwined underwater, gripping tight. Legs wrapped around Mingyu’s hips as he lifted Wonwoo gently, guiding him in slow, aching precision.

"We can stop if you don't want this." Mingyu broke the kiss and looked at Wonwoo.

Wonwoo responded with a deep kiss.

Mingyu slowly removed Wonwoo's short shorts and panties, receiving a moan from Wonwoo, taking it as a yes, he moved his hands from Wonwoo's face down to his chest

"Ahh..- I've waited months for this moment." Wonwoo replied through his moans.

Mingyu inserted a finger on Wonwoo's pussy only to receive a louder moan from Wonwoo.

"More.. ahhh"

He inserted 2 then 3 fingers until Wonwoo was ready to receive his.

"AAH... UGH.. Soo... ahh. big... perfect..ahhh.. for... me..."
"Deeper.. ahhh"
"Ahh.. hurts good"

Wonwoo's moans filled the area.

Each thrust made them both gasp—water shifting, nerves catching fire. They moved together in rhythm, body to body, breath to breath. Mingyu whispered things only the water heard, and Wonwoo answered in moans that echoed softly off tile and sky.

"Right there," Wonwoo gasped, head falling back against Mingyu’s shoulder as he arched into him. “You always know where to find me.”

“Because I never stopped looking,” Mingyu murmured, thrusting deeper, slower, deliberate. “Even when you left, I still knew you. You're still the most beautiful and the hottest in my eyes.”

The words cracked something open.

Wonwoo turned to kiss him again—desperate, devouring. Their bodies met harder now, urgency layered over tenderness. The water rocked around them, moonlight shattering on every ripple.

Climax came like a tide—inevitable, consuming, pure.

"Your moans are music to my ears, they are still my favorite sound." Mingyu said in between thrust.

"Uhuh" Wonwoo could barely speak.

"You're not the only one who waited for this moment to come, I never had the courage to do it with anyone else." Mingyu replied

Wonwoo responded with a much needy, hot kiss.

They stilled, hearts pounding, arms locked tight. Mingyu didn’t let go, even when the water calmed.

When Wonwoo pulled back, his voice was barely a whisper.

“Stay.”

Mingyu’s eyes softened. “Always.”

And under the blanket of stars and the gentle sway of pool water, they held each other—not as a moment of lust, but of deep, undeniable connection.

Chapter Text

The air between them had shifted.

After the trip abroad—after the poolside confessions and the long-held truths spilled between slow kisses—things weren’t just mended. They were beginning again.

Wonwoo could feel it in the way Mingyu waited outside the lab every evening. In the way his name sounded softer, sweeter when Mingyu said it now. Like a prayer finally answered.

They were older now. Calmer. But not immune to the butterflies.

And when Mingyu stood in front of the lab one Friday night, holding a small paper bouquet and wearing his nerves on his sleeve, Wonwoo knew something was about to change.

“You’ve got that look,” Wonwoo teased, raising a brow.

“What look?”

“The one that says ‘I did something cheesy again.’”

Mingyu laughed, then stepped forward and offered the flowers. "They're origami. I looked it up. Less pollen, less sneezy."

Wonwoo stared at them, touched.

“I have a question,” Mingyu added, quieter now. “I know it’s late—after everything. But… can I court you?”

Wonwoo blinked, caught off guard.

“I mean it,” Mingyu said. “I don’t want to jump into something just because we’re familiar. I want to earn you again. I want to know who you are now—and I want you to know me, too.”

The wind picked up around them, but Wonwoo’s heart beat warm.

“You really think you need to court me again?”

“I do.”

Wonwoo tilted his head. “Then I guess I should say yes.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Their first date was to a tiny ramen shop hidden in a quiet alley, a place Mingyu claimed served the best beef ramen in the city. Wonwoo didn’t care for the ramen as much as he did the sight of Mingyu slurping them like a starved puppy. They ended up sharing a boba on the way home.

The second was a visit to a museum exhibit on historical medical instruments. It was nerdy and niche, but they laughed too hard at one of the 1800s bone saws, and ended up pressed together in the corner of the hall, whispering like students all over again.

The third date? Home. A blanket fort in Wonwoo’s apartment, a rerun of a documentary they used to love in college, and Mingyu falling asleep halfway through with his head in Wonwoo’s lap.

By the fourth, people had started to notice.

“You two are basically a walking Netflix rom-com,” Jeonghan snorted one lunch break. “Do you have a script or does it come naturally?”

“I’ve seen less PDA on K-Dramas,” Seungcheol muttered, sipping his soup. “You guys are disgustingly cute.”

Joshua joined in, faking tears. “I just want what Mingyu and Wonwoo have. Is that so much to ask, DK?”

DK, without looking up from his meal, mumbled, “They were always endgame.”

Mingyu brought Wonwoo coffee every morning, always remembering his sugar preference down to the last grain. He reminded him to rest, to take water breaks, to submit his case reports before deadlines.

He even started studying med tech articles again, just so he could understand Wonwoo’s world better.

“Are you… highlighting the CLSI venipuncture protocols?” Wonwoo asked one day, incredulous.

Mingyu grinned. “If you’re the love of my life, I should at least know what you do... again tho”

Wonwoo had to step out of the room to breathe.

------------------------------------------------
At a hospital conference, a young, sharply dressed rep from a biotech company cornered Wonwoo with just a little too much charm.

“So, Jeon Wonwoo,” the guy said, smile like polished glass. “You’re even more brilliant in person.”

Wonwoo forced a polite nod. “Thank you.”

From across the room, Mingyu watched, expression unreadable.

The guy leaned in again.

That was it.

Wonwoo excused himself with a tight smile and made his way across the room. Without a word, he slid his hand into Mingyu’s and stood beside him.

“You okay?” Mingyu asked, pretending not to pout.

Wonwoo smiled. “Still jealous?”

“I’m not jealous.”

“You sulked through dessert.”

Mingyu shrugged. “He was flirting.”

Wonwoo leaned in and whispered, “I only have eyes for you, you know that.”

Mingyu melted instantly.

But turnabout was fair play.

-------------------------------------------
It happened during a pediatric round. A young med student who had clearly taken a liking to Dr. Kim Mingyu kept asking questions. And laughing. Loudly.

Wonwoo narrowed his eyes.

“You okay?” Joshua whispered beside him.

“Peachy,” Wonwoo deadpanned.

Later, in the elevator, it was Mingyu’s turn to be surprised.

Wonwoo hit the emergency stop. “Mingyu.”

“Uh—should we call someone?”

But before he could finish, Wonwoo grabbed his collar and kissed him—hard.

“Mine,” he murmured between kisses. “All mine.”

Mingyu’s hands settled at Wonwoo’s waist, lips curving into a smile. “Getting possessive now?”

Wonwoo didn’t answer.

He just kissed him again.

Mingyu was on him in an instant—pressing him against the wall, large hands sliding under the scrub top. His palms brushed over Wonwoo’s swollen nipples, coaxing a desperate moan from him.

“Still so sensitive here,” he whispered, rolling them between his fingers.

Wonwoo gasped, arching into his touch, breasts aching, leaking just slightly. “D-don’t tease me—”

Mingyu bent down, taking one nipple into his mouth through the fabric, sucking gently. Wonwoo's knees buckled.

“Fuck, Gyu—” he whimpered, grinding down against Mingyu’s thigh, his slick already dampening his underwear.

Mingyu pulled his top up and off, kissing down to his chest again, tonguing at the sensitive, puffy buds now fully exposed. Wonwoo cried out, hands tangled in Mingyu’s hair as his chest was lavished with licks, sucks, and bites that left angry red marks.

“Still leaking for me,” Mingyu murmured, thumbing at a droplet of milk and tasting it. “Still mine.”

Wonwoo trembled. “Then take me.”

Mingyu spun him around, pinning him face-first to the elevator wall. He yanked down the scrubs, baring Wonwoo’s round, plush ass, his soaked pussy glistening between his thighs.

Mingyu groaned. “You’re dripping.”

“Because of you,” Wonwoo panted, cheek pressed to the cold metal. “Always because of you.”

He felt Mingyu’s cock press against his entrance, thick and hot. Mingyu rubbed it along his folds, teasing.

“Say it,” Mingyu growled. “Say you want me.”

“I want you,” Wonwoo gasped. “Fuck me, Gyu—please—fill me up—”

And Mingyu did—thrusting deep in one stroke, drawing a scream from Wonwoo’s throat. The stretch burned perfectly, his tight walls clenching around the intrusion. Mingyu gripped his hips and set a brutal pace, skin slapping against skin, their moans echoing in the confined space.

Wonwoo’s breasts bounced with every thrust, sensitive nipples brushing against the cool metal, overstimulating him. Mingyu reached around and pinched one, making him cry out again.

“Too much—” Wonwoo sobbed, “I’m gonna—”

“Come for me,” Mingyu whispered, grinding deep inside his slick hole. “Come all over the wall, baby.”

Wonwoo came with a choked scream, walls spasming around Mingyu’s cock, milking him until Mingyu gave a final thrust and spilled inside him, warmth flooding Wonwoo’s womb.

They slumped together, panting, slick dripping down his thighs.

The elevator walls watched in silence as two professionals, deeply in love, threw years of tension into each other’s arms.

It wasn’t just about jealousy.

It was about reassurance. About belonging. About letting go of fear.

When the elevator started moving again, they stepped out breathless, shirts a little wrinkled.

“You realize we have a meeting in five minutes?” Mingyu asked, smoothing his hair.

Wonwoo grinned. “You’ll survive.”

Chapter Text

It started with a note.

Not a text. Not a call. Not even a flower this time.

It was a folded piece of paper, soft around the edges like it had been thumbed nervously a hundred times. It fell out of Mingyu’s white coat pocket while he was clocking out after a grueling 14-hour shift. At first, he thought it was a misplaced test requisition form—until he noticed the shape.

A tiny origami heart, perfectly folded.

He opened it, hands trembling slightly.

"Kim Mingyu,

If you’re still serious about courting me,
you can stop now.

Because I’m saying yes.
To everything.

To you.
Again.

Love,
Your forever lab cat"

He read it three times.

Then he sat down on the nearest bench and cried.

------------------------------------------------
“You’re glowing,” Jeonghan announced the next day, narrowing his eyes as he watched Mingyu hum while sanitizing his stethoscope. “Like, annoyingly happy.”

“I think he found someone,” Seungcheol said knowingly.

Joshua peeked from over his tablet. “He’s smiling at nothing.”

“Or someone,” DK added, elbowing him.

“I knew it,” Seungkwan gasped. “Is it—? Did you—?”

“I SAW THEM HOLDING HANDS!” Dino burst through the lounge door dramatically, pointing at the couple like he’d caught them in a scandal.

Mingyu just grinned.

Wonwoo, on the other hand, tried to hide behind the lab coat rack. Unsuccessfully.

“Oh my god, you’re back together!” Jun gasped, clapping. “Finally! We all suffered through your breakup—give us this happy ending!”

“Wait, wait,” Vernon raised a hand. “Define back together.”

“Like… officially?” Woozi asked, squinting. “With labels?”

Mingyu beamed, tugging Wonwoo close with an arm around his waist. “As official as it gets.”

Jeonghan sniffled, reaching for Seungcheol’s sleeve. “I’m just so proud. They grew up.”

“We’re all in love, huh?” Joshua said, smiling. “Look at us.”

“Married,” DK grinned, kissing Joshua’s cheek.

“Engaged,” Seungkwan waved his ring finger at Vernon.

“Baby on the way!” Jeonghan patted his baby bump proudly.

“Hao and I are disgustingly in love,” Jun added.

“And I’m gonna be the world’s biggest idol,” Dino chimed in, striking a pose.

The 13 of them—doctors, med techs, nurses, lovers, dreamers—stood in a perfect circle of warmth and laughter. They had grown up together. Survived together. Loved and lost and found each other again.

And they were witnessing the rebirth of Mingyu and Wonwoo’s love.

---------------------------------------
That evening, with the city quiet beneath them, Mingyu and Wonwoo sat on the rooftop garden where the hospital’s staff usually escaped for breathers. A warm breeze curled through the trellises, stars winking down like old friends.

Wonwoo leaned his head on Mingyu’s shoulder, fingers gently tracing the lines of his palm.

“I was terrified,” he admitted softly. “The moment I slipped that note into your coat. What if you changed your mind?”

“I never did,” Mingyu replied. “Not once.”

Wonwoo tilted his head up, eyes filled with something raw and open. “Even after all that time?”

“I waited for you,” Mingyu said, brushing hair from Wonwoo’s eyes. “Even when I hated how much I still loved you. I always thought… maybe one day, the stars would give us another try.”

Wonwoo chuckled, small and fond. “You always were the romantic.”

“You always were my favorite,” Mingyu whispered.

Silence stretched comfortably between them before Mingyu reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet pouch.

Wonwoo’s heart skipped. “Is that—?”

“No, no, not that yet.” Mingyu laughed, opening it to reveal a simple yet so expensive customized ring—gold, with a heartbeat pattern etched across it. “Just a promise ring. Not rushing. I just want you to know how serious I am.”

Wonwoo slipped it on.

“It’s perfect,” he said.

They sat hand-in-hand, staring at the moonlight pooling across the hospital rooftop.

Mingyu hesitated before speaking. “Can I ask something?”

“Anything.”

“What if… someday… we got married?”

Wonwoo blinked.

“I know it’s early,” Mingyu added quickly. “I just—imagine it sometimes. You walking toward me. Us with rings. Real vows. Real promises. A future.”

Wonwoo was quiet for a long moment, the wind rustling the trees around them.

Then he leaned over and kissed Mingyu gently, his voice a whisper against his lips.

“I want that too.”

Mingyu’s eyes burned.

“And…” Wonwoo paused. “Maybe, one day… we could talk about kids again?”

Mingyu stared.

“You’d want to?” he whispered. “After everything?”

Wonwoo nodded slowly, taking Mingyu’s hand and pressing it over his abdomen.

“This part of me still remembers,” he said softly. “But I think I’m ready to remember with hope, not pain.”

Mingyu leaned in, pressing a kiss just above Wonwoo’s navel.

“She would’ve been beautiful,” he whispered.

“She still is,” Wonwoo said. “She’s part of us.”

And together, they sat under the stars—two men who had once been broken, now slowly rebuilding. And this time, the foundation was stronger. Wiser. Still tender, still healing—but whole.

Chapter Text

It was a rare Sunday with no calls, no codes, no patients. Just blue skies, the scent of new beginnings, and Mingyu with a suspiciously smug grin tugging at Wonwoo’s hand as they drove along a scenic coastal road.

“Mingyu, where are we going?” Wonwoo asked, peeking out the window at a high-end gated village near the cliffs. “You’re being sketchy.”

Mingyu laughed, his fingers laced with Wonwoo’s across the center console. “Sketchy? Baby, you wound me. I’m a man of mystery, not suspicion.”

“Okay, Mystery Man. What’s behind these gates?”

“Our future.”

Wonwoo blinked. “Excuse me?”

The gate opened like something out of a movie. Beyond it: cobbled driveways, tall hedges, manicured lawns, and homes that looked like they belonged in architecture magazines.

One of them stood at the center of it all.

Modern glass. Warm wood. Curved lines and soft, earthy tones. It looked out over the ocean. Ivy crawled gently along the stone walls. A small cherry blossom tree stood blooming in the front garden.

Wonwoo’s mouth fell open.

“Mingyu…”

“Come on,” Mingyu said, hopping out of the car and pulling him toward the front door. He typed a code into the smart lock, it was Wonwoo's birthday.

It clicked open.

And there it was.

High ceilings. A sunken living room with a fireplace. An open kitchen with marble counters and double ovens. The windows—floor-to-ceiling—flooded the whole house with light.

There were 7 bedrooms. A home office. A nursery that Mingyu had furnished but hadn’t dared tell Wonwoo about yet. A pool in the backyard. A balcony upstairs with a view of the sea.

And parked in the garage? Four cars. A luxury SUV. A sleek pickup. And two sports cars that gleamed under the overhead lights like pieces of art.

Wonwoo turned to him, stunned. “What is this?”

“Our dream house,” Mingyu said, voice soft but sure. “I made it happen.”

“You what?”

“With my own money,” he continued. “This one’s mine. Ours. The deed’s under your name.”

Wonwoo’s eyes widened. “Why mine?”

“Because I lost you once,” Mingyu said, stepping closer. “And if I ever lose everything again, I want to know the best part of my life is still yours.”

Wonwoo's lip quivered. “You—”

“I wanted to build something with you. Something permanent. Something that says we made it through hell and found home.”

Wonwoo surged forward, arms around Mingyu’s neck, tears in his eyes. “I love you so much.”

They stood in the center of the empty living room, surrounded by the future.

They lay in the master bedroom, tangled in soft sheets. The moonlight spilled through the glass, and the sound of waves echoed in the distance.

Mingyu brushed his fingers along Wonwoo’s jaw.

“Is it too much?” he asked quietly.

“No,” Wonwoo whispered. “It’s… everything. You thought of everything.”

“I wanted you to feel safe,” Mingyu murmured. “Like we belong somewhere.”

“We do,” Wonwoo said. “Right here. With each other.”

He curled into Mingyu’s chest, breathing steady. “This house isn’t just big and beautiful. It feels like it waited for us to be ready.”

Mingyu kissed his forehead. “So… next step?”

Wonwoo smiled.

“Next step,” he said, “is making new memories.”

It had been a week since they moved into their new home, and everything still felt like a dream.

Wonwoo would catch himself standing by the balcony some mornings, sipping his coffee as the ocean breeze swept through his pajamas, eyes lingering on the man who once broke him and now gently stitched him back together—brick by brick, breath by breath.

Mingyu had finished his pediatric residency just days ago, and the entire hospital celebrated with a surprise party hosted by none other than Jeonghan and Seungcheol. There were banners in pastel colors, balloons, cake, and an emotional video montage made by Joshua, featuring clips from Mingyu’s rotations, kids he treated, and of course—outtakes of him accidentally falling asleep with lollipops in his pocket.

But the biggest surprise came that same night.

"Son, We Have a Gift For You"

His father, Chairman Kim, stood at the head of the dinner table, clinking his wine glass. Their home was full—his mom, Jeonghan, Seungcheol, Wonwoo, and the rest of their close-knit group, celebrating Mingyu’s completion of his grueling residency journey.

"You’ve made us proud, son," his father began, looking at Mingyu with eyes slightly glassy. "You’ve grown into the kind of doctor this hospital deserves. Not because of your last name, but because of your heart."

Mingyu looked stunned, pausing mid-bite.

“Wait, Dad, what are you saying—”

“You’re ready,” his father smiled. “The hospital is yours.”

Silence. Then gasps.

“What?”

“Effective next month, you’ll be Chief Executive Officer of Serenity Medical Center. I’ll be retiring. Your mother and I are going to travel the world and finally enjoy our time.”

His mom beamed, reaching for Wonwoo’s hand. “And you, my dear, are not getting away from this family a second time.”

Wonwoo turned pink.

“We love you,” she continued. “You’ve always been the one. Even back then. We want you as our in-law as soon as possible.”

Mingyu blinked. “Mom…”

“I mean it,” she grinned. “We’re serious. If you two get married before the year ends—we’ll give you the deed to that private island we own, your favorite place, son.”

“Wait—what?” Jeonghan choked on his wine.

“A private island?” Seungcheol echoed.

“Fully developed. Solar-powered. Comes with its own helipad,” his dad added casually.

Wonwoo coughed, flustered. “That’s… a lot of pressure.”

“It’s not pressure,” his mom winked. “It’s incentive.”

Mingyu squeezed Wonwoo’s hand under the table, eyes full of mischief and longing.

-----------------------------
They lay in bed, the lights dimmed, soft jazz playing faintly through the built-in speakers.

Wonwoo was curled against Mingyu’s side, his fingers tracing the edge of Mingyu’s hospital ID card now hung on their bedroom wall like a trophy.

“So… CEO, huh?” Wonwoo murmured.

Mingyu groaned dramatically. “It’s weird. I just finished residency, and suddenly I’m in charge of the whole hospital. I still feel like I should be asking my attending to sign off on my notes.”

Wonwoo laughed. “You’ll do great. You’ve always led with heart.”

Mingyu turned to him, more serious now. “I want to build more than just a career, Baby.”

Wonwoo looked up, heartbeat softening.

“I want marriage. I want kids again. A life we never got to finish back then.”

Wonwoo reached up to brush his thumb along Mingyu’s cheek.

“We’re not the same people anymore,” he whispered. “But our love... it still feels like home.”

Mingyu took a deep breath. “Do you think she would’ve liked this place?”

“She would’ve loved it,” Wonwoo said, tears brimming but no longer painful. “And I think she would’ve teased us for taking this long to find our way back.”

Mingyu smiled, holding him closer. “What do you say?”

“To what?”

“To making new dreams together.”

Wonwoo didn’t hesitate this time. “I say… let’s make them real.”

Seungcheol and Jeonghan dropped by unannounced—of course—and were the first to visit the house.

“Jesus Christ,” Seungcheol whistled, peeking into the third bathroom. “Are those heated toilet seats?”

“Are those mosaic tiles imported from Italy?” Jeonghan gasped. “Mingyu, you really went off.”

“This is like a soft-launch of rich people marriage,” Seungkwan added over FaceTime, squinting as he viewed the marble kitchen via camera.

“Wait—are you guys moving in already?” Jun yelled from a group video call with Hao, Woozi, and Dino.

Mingyu just smiled, arm wrapped around Wonwoo’s waist. “We’re planning to.”

“And I’m so happy for you both,” Jeonghan said sincerely, pressing a hand to his slightly visible baby bump. “You built something beautiful.”

“So when’s the housewarming?” DK asked from beside Joshua.

“As soon as I find the wine glasses,” Wonwoo answered, laughing.

Chapter Text

The sky over the private island was painted in warm hues of orange and lilac when the yacht docked by the crystal-blue bay. Mingyu held Wonwoo’s hand tightly as they stepped onto the wooden pier, the wind tousling their hair and the scent of the sea wrapping around them like a memory longed for.

The Kim family’s private island was every bit the paradise it had been described to be—white sand beaches, a luxurious villa nestled against lush greenery, and just beyond it all, the gentle hush of waves lapping against the shore.

“This is... insane,” Wonwoo whispered, eyes wide.

Mingyu smiled. “Only the best. For us.”

They spent their first day soaking in every perfect detail—lounging in their private infinity pool, sharing quiet meals under the canopy of flowering trees, and walking barefoot along the moonlit beach. It felt surreal. The life they’d once dreamed about—now blossoming in the real world.

That night, Wonwoo found himself on the villa rooftop, gazing up at the stars.

“Hey,” Mingyu’s voice came softly behind him. “Close your eyes for a second.”

Wonwoo turned, confused but curious. He complied.

He heard footsteps, something being set down, a whispered countdown. And then—

A burst of golden fireworks bloomed in the sky above them, glittering in the shape of a heart.

Wonwoo’s eyes widened.

And there was Mingyu—down on one knee in the warm sand, holding a box crafted from dark walnut wood, velvet-lined inside.

“I was going to wait a little longer,” Mingyu said, voice shaking with emotion, “but I don’t want to waste any more time not calling you mine. Officially. Forever.”

Wonwoo’s hands flew to his mouth, heart thundering.

“We’ve been through it all, Baby. Love, loss, pain, healing. But through it all, you’ve been the one. My constant. My peace. My future.”

He opened the box—a ring of rose gold, the inner band engraved with “MinWon”

“Wonwoo, will you marry me?"

Wonwoo couldn’t speak at first. Tears streamed freely down his cheeks. Then, finally, his voice returned.

“Yes,” he choked out, laughing through the tears.

"Right here. On this island. With the people who have always loved us most.” Mingyu said with tears

“Yes. Of course I will.” Wonwoo said in between sobs

And as if the moment couldn’t be more perfect, a raucous cheer erupted from the trees nearby.

“What—?”

Out popped Jeonghan, arms flailing, followed by Seungcheol, Seungkwan, Joshua, DK, Jun, Hao, Vernon, Woozi, Hoshi, and Dino—each holding sparklers and cameras and confetti poppers.

“Surprise!” they all yelled in unison.

“You didn’t think we’d let you get engaged without us, did you?” Jeonghan teased.

“You sneaky bastard,” Wonwoo laughed through tears, punching Mingyu’s chest lightly.

They partied until sunrise—dancing on the beach, singing at the top of their lungs on the yacht, sipping drinks with tiny umbrellas and recalling the craziest moments from college.

And somewhere around 2 a.m., laughter faded into the soft lull of waves as each couple retreated to their suites... leaving only Mingyu and Wonwoo on the patio beneath the stars.

------------------------------------------
They sat by the pool’s edge, feet dipping into the water. The silence was comforting, thick with love and promise.

“I don’t want to wait anymore,” Wonwoo said softly. “I want to start planning. I want to marry you here. On this island. With everyone we love.”

Mingyu looked over, eyes shimmering. “You’re sure?”

“More than anything.”

The next morning, wedding plans were in motion.

Jeonghan immediately volunteered to organize the theme (“classy coastal with touches of vintage and medical vibes,” he declared). Joshua and DK coordinated the floral arrangements. Seungkwan and Vernon handled the music. Jun and Hao designed the wedding invitations, and Hoshi and Woozi set up lighting and stage designs. Dino offered to choreograph the first dance—because, of course, he did.

And through all of it, Mingyu and Wonwoo stood side by side—nervous, excited, a little overwhelmed, but glowing.

---------------------------------------
Mingyu stood in the outdoor shower attached to their villa, rinsing off after a long, sun-kissed day of wedding prep. The glass panels fogged gently from the warmth, the moonlight spilling in from above.

Then he felt a pair of arms wrap gently around his waist from behind.

“Hi,” Wonwoo murmured, pressing a kiss to his spine.

Mingyu turned to face him, smiling. “Hi.”

No more words were needed.

The shower was filled with laughter and steam and tender touches. With promises whispered between kisses, with fingers tracing lines carved from years of growing apart and back together. Every breath, every sigh was a vow.

A vow to love. To stay. To build.

When they finally curled up in bed, skin still damp, hearts pounding quietly in tandem, Mingyu whispered, “I can’t wait to see you walking down that beach aisle.”

Wonwoo smiled. “And I can’t wait to say yes.”

Chapter Text

The Kim family’s private island shimmered under the early morning sun, a paradise nestled in the middle of the cerulean sea. Gentle waves kissed the shore while a soft breeze carried the scent of salt and blooming jasmine. The beach was transformed into a dreamscape: white wooden chairs lined up facing an altar made of driftwood and delicate flowers, with fairy lights twinkling like stars even in the day.

Guests gathered in quiet anticipation—family, friends, colleagues, hospital staff, and those who had witnessed Mingyu and Wonwoo’s long, winding journey. Mingyu’s parents stood proudly near the front, their eyes sparkling with tears. Nearby, Jeonghan, Seungcheol, Joshua, DK, Jun, Hao, Seungkwan, Vernon, Hoshi, Woozi, and Dino shared smiles and whispered congratulations.

The barista who had long been part of their story arrived last minute, carrying a tray with their favorite things: two iced americanos, a slice of red velvet cake, and garlic cheese bread—the comfort foods that had punctuated their moments over the years.

---------------------------------------------
Inside the villa, nerves bubbled beneath Mingyu’s composed exterior. Seungcheol fussed with his bowtie, a smirk tugging at his lips as he teased, “You better not mess this up, doctor.”

Jeonghan, eyes already glistening with tears, leaned over and whispered, “You’re going to be perfect.”

Mingyu took a deep breath, then glanced at his reflection one last time before stepping outside.

Meanwhile, Wonwoo stood near the window, the sunlight catching the soft curve of his smile. Woozi adjusted the flower on his lapel. “You look radiant,” he said quietly.

Hoshi nodded, “And happy. The kind of happy that’s rare.”

Wonwoo met his friends’ gazes and nodded, but his heart was only with one person.

-------------------------------------------
The moment Mingyu saw Wonwoo walking down the aisle barefoot, the world slowed and he couldn't stop crying. The sea breeze teased Wonwoo’s hair, and the light in his eyes was all Mingyu needed to remember why he had never stopped loving him.

They reached each other at the altar, hands trembling as they joined.

Mingyu’s Vows
“I’ve stood in countless hospital hallways, faced every kind of fear, every kind of loss. Wonwoo, you were my anchor in youth, my light in darkness, my home. I promise to always fight for us, to listen, to hold you when the world feels heavy. I lost you once, but I swear I’ll never let you go again. Thank you for coming back to me.

You were the calm to my storm, the method to my madness, the quiet strength I didn’t realize I needed. Because I have you at home, I am able to stand still. In a life full of chaos—exams, hospital shifts, fears, and heartbreak—you are my constant, my safe harbor. You taught me that love isn’t just a feeling but a choice we make every day, through every joy and every pain.

You have seen me at my worst, held me when I wanted to break, and still, you never left. You are more than my partner; you are my home, my heartbeat, my forever. I promise to walk beside you, to support your dreams, and to cherish every moment, no matter how big or small. Together, we will build a life filled with laughter, healing, and the kind of love that endures even the hardest storms.

Wonwoo, I vow to love you fiercely and tenderly, to respect you deeply, and to celebrate you always. Because you are my heart’s true north, the answer to every whispered prayer I didn’t know I was saying. I am yours, fully and endlessly.”

Wonwoo’s Vows
Tears slipped down Wonwoo’s cheeks as he unfolded his carefully rewritten note.

“You once told me that love isn’t just about holding hands when it’s easy, but standing beside each other when it’s not. And you did. You stayed. Through fear, through heartbreak, through silence. I promise never to be silent again. I promise to be yours—in every ordinary day, every quiet moment, and every wild adventure. Thank you for the love that never made me feel lonely. I love you, and I will love you always—even as our daughter watches from heaven.

Mingyu, you have been my light in every dark hallway, my warmth in every cold morning, and my courage when I felt broken beyond repair. Thank you for the love that doesn’t make me feel lonely. You have loved all of me—the parts I tried to hide, the pain I buried deep—and in your arms, I found peace.

When I thought everything was lost, when grief threatened to swallow me whole, you held me up. You carried us both with gentle strength, proving that love can heal even the deepest wounds. With you, I am never afraid to be myself, never afraid to dream, never afraid to hope.

I promise to be your shelter, your biggest fan, and your closest friend. To stand by your side through every challenge and to celebrate every victory with the same joy we first felt beneath those trees during Med Tech Week. You are my home, my heart, my forever person.

I love you beyond words, beyond time, beyond all the scars we carry. And I vow to keep choosing you, every single day.”

Mingyu’s arms closed around Wonwoo before the officiant could speak again, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

------------------------------------------------
Mingyu’s mother fussed over Wonwoo’s boutonniere, her eyes soft and proud. “You’re the answer to our prayers,” she whispered.

His father smiled warmly, “Our family’s growing. Soon we’ll have grandchildren.”

“Baby talks already?” Mingyu teased, though his heart swelled with hope.

The friends circled the couple—Jeonghan beaming with his own big bump, Seungcheol whispering congratulations. Joshua and DK exchanged joyful looks. Jun and Hao held hands tight, while Seungkwan wiped away tears beside Vernon. Hoshi and Woozi shared quiet smiles, and Dino was already planning a celebratory song.

The hospital staff had traveled to witness the union of their beloved doctor and chief medical technologist, proof that love and healing walk hand in hand.

-------------------------------------------------
The night unfolded in a perfect mix of laughter, dancing, and memories. Seungkwan’s slideshow brought everyone to tears—the goofy university photos, candid hospital moments, and that unforgettable picture of Wonwoo cradling his bump, six months pregnant, at their old apartment.

Their first dance was a tender acoustic rendition of You Were Beautiful. Mingyu whispered in Wonwoo’s ear, “Bean would’ve loved today.”

“She’s here,” Wonwoo smiled softly.

Crowd cheered when the sound shifted to Iris by Goo Goo Dolls as this was their theme song.

Unbeknownst to Mingyu, Wonwoo already recorded his own version of the song which was played after the You Were Beautiful.

Mingyu cried when he recognized Wonwoo's voice.

"I'd give up forever to touch you." Wonwoo looked at Mingyu and kissed him forgetting about the many eyes looking at them as if it was just him and Mingyu in this room.

"I love you."
"I love you."

They both said in unison.

As the guests retreated to their rooms, the island grew quiet under a blanket of stars. Mingyu and Wonwoo found themselves alone, the world shrinking to the soft glow of the moonlight and the sound of waves.

They sat side by side on the bed, hands entwined, heartbeats syncing.

Mingyu brushed a stray lock of hair from Wonwoo’s face. “I’ve dreamed of this night for years.”

Wonwoo smiled shyly. “Me too.”

The air between them thickened, charged with all the years lost and all the years ahead.

Slowly, they moved closer, lips meeting in a kiss that was at once tentative and fiercely hungry. Mingyu’s hands traced the familiar curves of Wonwoo’s body, memorizing every inch anew. The cool night air mixed with the warmth of their skin as they shed the last barriers.

Wonwoo’s breath hitched when Mingyu’s fingers found the delicate softness between his thighs, his touch tender yet confident. Mingyu explored with reverence, marveling at the way Wonwoo melted under his fingertips.

When Wonwoo pressed into Mingyu’s palm, gasping softly, Mingyu chuckled. “You’re beautiful. Perfect.”

The sounds of their lovemaking mingled with the ocean’s rhythm—whispers, moans, the slick slide of skin against skin. Mingyu’s lips traced down Wonwoo’s neck, across his collarbone, before returning to worship his mouth.

They moved together with an intimacy born from years of knowing and missing each other. Mingyu’s hands cradled Wonwoo’s hips, holding him close as he pressed inside, careful and loving, every movement a promise.

Wonwoo’s gasps grew louder, his fingers tangling in Mingyu’s hair as they rode waves of pleasure beneath the stars.

Hours passed unnoticed, a perfect union of past pain and future hope.

When they finally collapsed together, spent and trembling, Mingyu whispered against Wonwoo’s temple, “This is only the beginning.”

Wonwoo smiled, eyes closed. “Forever starts tonight.”

The soft glow of the honeymoon suite wrapped around them like a warm embrace. Mingyu traced gentle circles along Wonwoo’s bare skin, his fingers trembling with the sweetness of anticipation and reverence. Wonwoo’s breath hitched as Mingyu’s lips found the swell of his chest, his mouth soft and worshipful against the sensitive skin of Wonwoo’s breasts. Mingyu’s tongue flicked lightly over a taut nipple, eliciting a shiver that rippled through Wonwoo’s body.

“Min…” Wonwoo’s voice was barely a whisper, heavy with trust and desire. His hands tangled in Mingyu’s hair, guiding him closer. The warmth of Mingyu’s breath mingled with the flutter of his heartbeat beneath the kiss. Mingyu’s lips traced slow, deliberate paths, worshipping every inch as if committing Wonwoo’s body to memory.

Wonwoo’s eyes fluttered open, gazing up with a vulnerability that made Mingyu’s heart ache. “I want to try again,” Wonwoo said, voice thick with hope and something deeper—an unspoken promise. “I want to have your baby… our baby. When you’re ready, I want us to do this again.”

Mingyu’s smile was fierce and tender all at once. “Always,” he whispered, his hands sliding down to cup Wonwoo’s hips, pulling him flush against his heat. Their bodies fit together perfectly, a map of love and longing written in every touch.

Fingers and lips explored with growing urgency as they moved toward the shared rhythm of need. Wonwoo’s soft gasps and mingled moans filled the quiet room, a symphony of trust and surrender. Mingyu kissed his way down Wonwoo’s neck, shoulders, and chest again, drinking him in before trailing kisses lower.

Their skin was slick with the slow heat of desire, Mingyu’s hands steady and sure as they roamed over Wonwoo’s body. Wonwoo’s fingers dug lightly into Mingyu’s back as Mingyu eased inside, their movements slow and full of reverence, matching the quiet urgency of their shared dream.

“Deeper,” Wonwoo breathed, eyes locked with Mingyu’s as if to say, “This time, we make it last.”

They moved together like they’d been made for this moment—an echo of the past and a promise of the future. Mingyu’s lips found Wonwoo’s again, and their bodies writhed in a dance of love, pain, healing, and hope. Every thrust was a vow, every whispered name a prayer.

When they came, it was with a force that shook the room—the kind of release that left them trembling and breathless, hearts beating as one.

In the soft afterglow, Mingyu pressed gentle kisses over Wonwoo’s face and whispered, “We’ll have our family, baby. I promise. When the time comes. If God grants our wish.”

Wonwoo smiled, already dreaming of the future cradled in Mingyu’s arms.

Chapter Text

The world had never looked so alive.

Over eight breathtaking weeks, Mingyu and Wonwoo journeyed through ten countries—each a new chapter in their story, each moment a vivid memory stitched into the fabric of their renewed love.

In Japan, beneath Kyoto’s delicate cherry blossoms, Mingyu watched Wonwoo’s eyes sparkle as they sipped matcha in a tranquil teahouse. The soft petals drifted around them like whispered blessings, the calm quiet wrapping their hearts.

Italy’s cobblestone streets in Rome became their playground. They chased each other between ancient ruins, laughter echoing down alleys. Gelato melted on their fingers as they stood beside the Trevi Fountain, tossing coins and wishing for forever. Long dinners stretched late into the night—wine, pasta, and endless stories.

Under the shimmering Northern Lights in Iceland, they stood hand in hand, breath visible in the crisp air, the auroras swirling like nature’s own magic show just for them.

In Bali, they danced barefoot on warm sands beneath the moonlight. The ocean breeze carried their laughter far out over the water. Swiss chalets with roaring fireplaces offered cozy nights where snow blanketed the world outside, but inside, their bodies warmed each other with soft touches, whispers, and lingering kisses.

Each city, a canvas of new experiences; every sunset, a brushstroke of hope and joy.

Back at the sprawling mansion Mingyu had purchased, reality sank in like the slow tide.

The house was their dream home—modern yet warm, walls filled with framed memories and empty spaces waiting for new ones. The driveway housed four cars: a family SUV for comfort, a rugged pickup for spontaneous getaways, and two sleek sports cars that Mingyu grinned at every morning.

But beneath the luxury, the hum of responsibilities called them home.

The hospital welcomed them with open arms—colleagues teasing, children smiling when they walked down the pediatric halls, nurses Joshua and Seungkwan joking about how they made the perfect couple. Even the kids seemed to sense the warmth radiating from them.

----------------------------------------------
At first, Wonwoo threw himself into work with his usual meticulous focus, eager to reclaim his space in the lab.

But subtle signs emerged—he’d pause more often, breathing shallow, fatigued beyond the usual exhaustion. His hands, once steady as a surgeon’s, trembled slightly during blood draws. His skin paled, and dizziness hit him without warning.

One afternoon, mid-labeling a batch of blood samples, the world tilted.

Wonwoo’s knees buckled, and Mingyu caught him just in time.

“Wonwoo!” Mingyu’s voice was tight with panic, heart hammering as nurses rushed over.

Hoshi, the ER doctor and longtime friend, was already calling for urgent labs and vitals checks.

Minutes stretched into agonizing eternity.

Then Hoshi returned, his usually stern face softened by a rare tenderness.

“Jeon Wonwoo,” he began carefully, “you’re seven weeks pregnant.”

The room seemed to hold its breath.

Mingyu’s throat tightened as tears blurred his vision. “What?” he managed to ask, voice barely above a whisper.

Hoshi smiled gently. “Yes, Congratulations! Best to visit the OB now.”

Without hesitation, Mingyu carried Wonwoo and they rushed to the hospital’s OBGYN department.

Ultrasound technicians moved the probe gently over Wonwoo’s abdomen, the screen flickering to reveal two tiny hearts fluttering side by side.

"Wow... I see two sacs! Twins!" Dr. Jun exclaimed.

“We’re having twins,” Wonwoo breathed, eyes wide with awe.

Jun smiled warmly. “It’s rare but wonderful. With close monitoring, both you and the babies will do well.”

Mingyu squeezed Wonwoo’s hand, voice thick with emotion. “We’ll protect you all. Together.”

"This is it, our little family." Wonwoo said with tears in his eyes.

"She came back to us baby..." Mingyu said while looking at Wonwoo with puppy eyes.

"And she bought a sibling, love..." Wonwoo replied.

"I love you, baby. Thank you for this." Mingyu said while placing a kiss on Wonwoo's temples

----------------------------------
Back in the quiet of their hospital room, Mingyu traced circles on Wonwoo’s hand.

“Little ones,” he whispered, “you’re miracles we never gave up on.”

Wonwoo leaned into him, tears spilling softly. “I’m scared.”

“Me too,” Mingyu admitted. “But we’ll be okay. I promise. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I want to be strong—for you, for them.”

“You already are,” Mingyu said, voice trembling. “Now, rest. Let me carry some of the weight.”

---------------------------------
That night, the hum of machines and the glow of soft lights wrapped them in a cocoon.

Wonwoo’s head rested on Mingyu’s shoulder, their breaths syncing in quiet rhythm.

“We’ll make it through,” Mingyu murmured, kissing Wonwoo’s temple.

“And when they’re here,” Wonwoo said softly, “they’ll know how loved they were before they even took their first breath.”

Chapter Text

The first trimester was full of quiet excitement and cautious hope. Mingyu watched over Wonwoo carefully, always attentive.

When Wonwoo first confided about his morning sickness, Mingyu became his personal chef, carefully preparing ginger tea and toast to soothe the nausea.

They spent evenings nestled on the couch, Mingyu’s fingers gently brushing Wonwoo’s hair as they scrolled through baby names on his phone.

The thought of a tiny life growing inside Wonwoo made everything surreal and precious.

By the third month, subtle changes began to show.

One night, Wonwoo caught Mingyu’s gaze lingering on his waist.

“You think it’s noticeable yet?” Wonwoo asked, self-conscious.

Mingyu smiled softly, stepping closer to wrap his arms gently around Wonwoo’s waist.

“Maybe just a little,” he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to the side of his neck. “But it’s perfect.”

That night, they shared their first belly hug—Mingyu’s hands cradling the soft curve, Wonwoo leaning into the warmth.

They dreamed aloud about the little kicks, the first ultrasound, the life they were building together.

As the pregnancy settled, cravings struck with unpredictable intensity.

Wonwoo declared an urgent need for strawberry ice cream at 2 AM, dragging Mingyu out for a midnight run.

Other nights, he wanted spicy noodles or pickles dipped in chocolate — a combination that made Mingyu laugh and shake his head.

Mood swings also appeared: Wonwoo might be laughing one moment and tearful the next.

Mingyu learned to navigate the emotional tides with patience and humor.

He carried a notebook to jot down Wonwoo’s favorite cravings and soothing affirmations to read aloud during tougher days.

By the fifth month, the bump was undeniable—a soft, round promise beneath Wonwoo’s shirts.

Mingyu became obsessive about belly rubs, tracing gentle circles and talking to their baby.

“Hey, little ones,” he’d say softly. “Your dad’s the best doctor, and your mom’s the strongest person I know. We can’t wait to meet you.”

Wonwoo’s favorite moment was when Mingyu gently rested his head on the bump and whispered silly little secrets only the baby could hear.

Their nights became filled with belly hugs—Wonwoo leaning back against Mingyu’s chest, fingers tracing the curve that grew between them.

As Wonwoo’s body changed more dramatically, insecurities crept in.

One afternoon, he caught his reflection and flinched at the stretch marks and softening waist.

“Do you still see me the same?” he asked hesitantly.

Mingyu immediately pulled him into a warm embrace.

“You’re breathtakingly perfect, baby” he said firmly. “Every change tells the story of our baby, our love. I’m so proud of you.”

At seven months, the babies kick grew stronger and more frequent.

Wonwoo’s nipples darkened and ached, the body preparing for breastfeeding.

One quiet night, they lay together, the dim light casting a warm glow on their intertwined bodies.

Wonwoo sighed, “My nipples hurt so much…”

Mingyu’s eyes flicked up to Wonwoo’s flushed face, noticing the subtle wetness in his eyes and the delicate pink hue blooming on his nipples, swollen from milk production.

“You know,” Mingyu murmured, voice low and certain, “from what I’ve read and from Jun, our OBGYN, sucking your nipples is actually one of the best ways to ease engorgement and stimulate milk flow.” His fingers traced circles around Wonwoo’s chest, careful and reverent.

Wonwoo swallowed, heat flushing his cheeks. “You’re the doctor,” he whispered, voice thick with arousal. “If you say it’s good, then… please.”

Mingyu’s lips curved into a slow smile as he leaned forward, brushing his mouth over the peak of Wonwoo’s nipple. The sensation was immediate—sweet and electric—sending a rush of warmth spiraling through Wonwoo’s body. His breath hitched as Mingyu’s tongue flicked lightly, his mouth expertly coaxing and soothing the swollen buds.

“Min,” Wonwoo gasped softly, fingers tangling in Mingyu’s hair. The pleasure was unlike anything he’d felt before during the pregnancy—intimate, nourishing, and deeply arousing.

As Mingyu continued, Wonwoo’s mind drifted to a memory:

Flashback:
The trio sat in a cozy corner of the hospital cafeteria, Jun sipping his coffee with a knowing smile.
“Is it safe to have sex during pregnancy?” Mingyu asked carefully, eyes locked on Jun.
Jun chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “Absolutely, as long as the pregnancy is healthy and there are no complications. Just be gentle, avoid anything too rough, and listen to your bodies. If anything feels off, stop. But otherwise? It’s good for intimacy and stress relief.”
Wonwoo had nodded, squeezing Mingyu’s hand. “Good to know,” he said softly. “We want to be careful.”
Jun grinned. “Just be careful. And enjoy it.”

Back in the present, Mingyu’s lips moved lower, kissing along Wonwoo’s collarbone before trailing back up, his hands sliding under Wonwoo’s shirt to cup his warm skin.

“You’re so beautiful, baby” Mingyu whispered, voice husky.

Wonwoo’s breath hitched again, eyes closing as Mingyu’s mouth found his own. Their kiss was slow, deep, full of longing and tenderness.

With Mingyu’s careful guidance, they moved together, Mingyu easing inside Wonwoo with patience and love, their bodies fitting perfectly despite the change pregnancy brought.

Wonwoo wrapped his arms around Mingyu’s neck, heart pounding in rhythm with every gentle thrust.

“You feel so good,” Mingyu murmured against Wonwoo’s lips. “This… this is love.”

Their movements became more urgent, passion building as they lost themselves in each other. Mingyu’s mouth found Wonwoo’s swollen nipples again, sucking and teasing, sending waves of pleasure that mingled with the deep connection of their bodies.

When they finally came, it was with whispered promises and quiet tears, mingled with laughter and soft kisses, a perfect testament to the love that held them strong.
Wonwoo smiled, eyes shining with trust.

“Thank you for loving me like this. Like all of me.”

Mingyu kissed his forehead, voice thick with emotion.

“There’s no one else I’d rather be with—through every change, every moment.”

As they moved closer to the end, their focus shifted to preparing their home and hearts.

Wonwoo’s cravings slowed, replaced by bursts of nesting energy.

They decorated the nursery together—soft pastels, hand-picked toys, and a mobile made by Mingyu himself.

At times, anxiety gnawed at Wonwoo, and Mingyu stayed awake, holding him through restless nights.

Together, they whispered promises of love, strength, and the new chapter soon to begin.

Chapter Text

It was a day past Wonwoo’s due date, yet the twins showed no signs of wanting to meet the world.

The hospital room, softly lit by the afternoon sun, felt heavy with quiet anticipation. Wonwoo sat on the edge of the bed, his large belly round and firm beneath his hospital gown. Mingyu sat beside him, fingers intertwined with Wonwoo’s, trying to keep both of their spirits steady.

“Dr. Jun said the babies are healthy,” Mingyu reminded gently, brushing a stray lock of hair from Wonwoo’s sweaty forehead. “But sometimes they like to stay cozy a little longer.”

Wonwoo let out a tired sigh, rubbing his swollen feet. “I’m so ready to meet them, though. Every kick feels heavier, like they’re reminding me it’s time.”

Mingyu smiled softly. “We can try a few things to help, like yoga, walking... and well…” His eyes glinted with teasing warmth. “Natural induction.”

Wonwoo arched an eyebrow, half amused, half exhausted. “You mean sex?”

Mingyu chuckled, squeezing his hand. “Exactly.”

Together, they tried prenatal yoga in the room.

Mingyu steadied Wonwoo’s back as he stretched slowly, breathing deeply. His hands never left Wonwoo’s body, offering constant support.

But after just seven minutes, Wonwoo’s breaths became shallow, his body trembling with fatigue.

Tears threatened.

“I can’t do this…” he murmured, his voice breaking.

Mingyu gathered him in a warm embrace. “It’s okay, love. You’re doing amazing.”

He pressed gentle kisses on Wonwoo’s temple and whispered, “Come on, little ones. We’re ready to meet you.”

Wonwoo sniffled, eyes softening with hope.

With his heart pounding, Mingyu slowly lifted Wonwoo’s hospital gown and began massaging his swollen belly.

His hands glided from the bottom curve to the navel, then up to the chest—soft, careful, reverent.

Wonwoo’s chest was already full, breasts swollen and nipples tender from early milk production. He shivered at the sensation of Mingyu’s fingers tracing circles over his skin.

Caught between vulnerability and love, Wonwoo reached for Mingyu’s hand resting in his nipples, holding on tightly.

Mingyu increased the pressure, whispering explanations about stimulating milk production.

Suddenly, wetness coated his fingers.

Without hesitation, Mingyu leaned down and sucked gently on Wonwoo’s leaking nipple, wanting to cherish every drop.

Wonwoo gasped, caught between surprise and pleasure.

He tugged gently at Mingyu’s hair, a mixture of sharp sensation and bliss.

Mingyu’s tongue flicked lightly over his sensitive skin, coaxing soft moans from Wonwoo’s lips.

“Not fair,” Mingyu teased breathlessly, “You’re leaking on both sides.”

He switched to the other nipple while continuing the gentle massage, making Wonwoo’s whole body tremble.

Their eyes met, shining with love and something electric—raw, tender, alive.

Their kisses deepened, hands roaming with awe and reverence over every curve, every change.

Mingyu’s touch was slow, never rushed, always attentive to Wonwoo’s comfort and pleasure.

He pressed loving kisses along Wonwoo’s neck, whispering promises and encouragements between every breath.

They moved together, intimate and connected, every motion a testament to their deep bond and the new life growing inside Wonwoo.

Mingyu’s lips trailed lower, exploring, worshipping, cherishing his husband’s body.

Mingyu was careful with every thrust afraid of what might happened to their babies.

Wonwoo gasped, trembling beneath him, the sensation heightened by the newness of pregnancy and the tender care Mingyu showed.

Their lovemaking was a fragile dance between passion and caution, filled with sighs, whispered names, and the steady rhythm of two hearts beating as one.

As their passion crescendoed, Wonwoo’s water suddenly broke with a soft but unmistakable gush.

Mingyu froze for a heartbeat before wrapping Wonwoo tightly in his arms.

“It’s time,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion.

Tears welled in both their eyes.

“You’re doing so well,” Mingyu breathed, kissing Wonwoo’s forehead. “I love you. Thank you. You are perfect.”

Wonwoo trembled in his husband’s arms, pain beginning to pulse through his body.

"Oh- It hurts..." Wonwoo cried

“You can do this, baby,” Mingyu said firmly. “You’re beautiful, strong, my answered prayer.”

Labor came in waves—intense and consuming.

Mingyu never left Wonwoo’s side, holding his hand, wiping sweat from his brow, and whispering words of love and strength.

“This will be the last labor,” Mingyu promised through tears, “I don’t want to see you hurt anymore. You’re so brave.”

Wonwoo’s breath hitched with each contraction, but Mingyu’s voice was a steady anchor.

“You’re not alone. I’m here.”

Hours passed in a blur of pain and hope.

The sterile hum of the hospital room was softened by the steady warmth between them. Mingyu never left Wonwoo’s side, his hand firmly holding Wonwoo’s, fingers intertwined like roots anchoring them both through the storm of labor.

Wonwoo’s breaths came heavy and uneven, sweat beading on his forehead as another contraction gripped his body. His face was pale, eyes squeezed shut, every muscle tensed as he prepared for the next push.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” Mingyu whispered urgently, his voice low and steady against Wonwoo’s ear. “I love you. Thank you for being so strong. You’re perfect. You can do this. You are beautiful.”

Wonwoo whimpered, clutching Mingyu’s hand tighter, nails digging into his skin, but Mingyu didn’t flinch. He was unshakable—a calm, loving force grounding Wonwoo through the pain.

“Alright, Wonwoo, we’re almost there. One more big push, okay? We can see the head.” Dr. Jun said

Wonwoo’s eyes fluttered open, meeting Mingyu’s gaze. Mingyu smiled, tears shining, brushing damp hair from Wonwoo’s forehead. “You’ve got this, baby. I’m right here. We’re doing this together.”

The next contraction crashed over Wonwoo like a wave, and with Mingyu’s whispered encouragement echoing in his ear, he pushed with all his might.

“Harder, Wonwoo! You’re almost there!” Jun urged gently.

"I can't do this anymore." Wonwoo cried

"Yes, you can baby. I am right here." Mingyu kissed his forehead

"AAAAAAAH--" Wonwoo shouted

The room was tense, breaths held, then a cry broke through—the first twin was born, a perfect, squalling little life wrapped quickly and placed on Wonwoo’s chest. Mingyu’s eyes brimmed with tears as he kissed Wonwoo’s temple.

“You did it, love. You’re incredible.”

But there was no time to rest. Another contraction was building, and Wonwoo’s body trembled as he prepared for the second push.

Mingyu squeezed his hand. “I love you. You are so brave. We’re almost done.”

Wonwoo nodded weakly, gripping Mingyu’s fingers like a lifeline.

"I can't love, too tired." Wonwoo cried

"It's okay baby, rest for a while we will see our other baby again, hm?" Reassured Mingyu who was also nervous and about to pass out from the pain of seeing his Wonwoo suffer.

"One more push, Wonwoo." urged Jun.

"AAAAH" shouted Wonwoo but there was no progress yet.

"Baby, try to hold on just one last try, hm? I love you, thank you for being brave. You got this, the Lord is with you."

"MHHHH" Wonwoo screamed

With all the strength left in him, Wonwoo pushed again, raw and fierce, until another cry filled the room—the second twin was here.

Jun smiled warmly, placing the baby next to their sibling. “They’re both healthy and beautiful.”

Mingyu leaned in, lips brushing Wonwoo’s sweat-slicked skin. “Thank you for everything, baby. You are perfect.”

Wonwoo’s exhaustion melted into relief, tears rolling down his cheeks. Mingyu held him close, whispering over and over, “I love you. You’re beautiful. You did it.”

Together, surrounded by new life and endless love, they began the next chapter—twin hearts beating with theirs, forever connected.

Wonwoo collapsed back against the pillows, utterly spent.

Mingyu held him close, brushing damp hair from his face.

“I love you,” Mingyu said softly. “Thank you for trusting me. For us.”

Wonwoo smiled weakly.

“We’re a family now.”

Mingyu nodded, kissing Wonwoo’s forehead again.

“Yes, and I promise I’ll always be here. Every step, every moment.”

Chapter Text

Mingyu couldn’t stop crying.

He had cried when he first held their daughter, Moriah—tiny, squirming, a wail so loud she sounded like she already had something to say to the world. He cried when their son, Warner, was laid on Wonwoo’s chest—pink and strong, with fists curled like he was ready to protect the people he loved already.

"Chosen by God," Mingyu whispered as he kissed Moriah's forehead. "Protector," he added, brushing Warner's soft hair.

They were here.

They were alive.

And they were perfect.

--------

When the first few hours of awe and shock passed, Mingyu stood in the corner of the recovery room, his phone trembling in his hands. He hit the call button for his parents, barely able to breathe.

“They’re here,” he choked, voice cracking. “Twins. A girl and a boy.”

There was a scream from the other end. Mingyu could hear his mom sobbing joyfully, and his dad shouting in the background, “Tell Wonwoo we love him! We're coming!”

The news traveled fast—within the hour, their 11 closest friends filled the group chat with messages:

Jeonghan: YOU GUYS REALLY HAD TWINS???
DK: I’M ALREADY CRYING AT THE NAMES 😭
Joshua: When is the Christening?? Let me buy tiny shoes.
Seungcheol: Godparents line up starts NOW.
Vernon: I will fight all of you.
Dino: Can I post a congratulations dance? 😭
Woozi: Don’t forget to sleep. Like at all.
Jun: I’m bringing formula just in case.
Hoshi: THEY’RE THE CUTEST
Hao: This is the real miracle ❤️

----------
The garden behind the Kim mansion was transformed into a vision of white and soft pinks and baby blues. Angels made of paper floated above, and each table had tiny framed photos of Moriah and Warner’s first week.

Wonwoo, cradling Moriah, wore a soft beige hanbok with floral embroidery; Mingyu, in a light suit holding Warner, couldn’t take his eyes off his family.

Jeonghan and Seungcheol together with their son, proud godparents, stood beside them. The rest of their friends each had roles—some bringing the bread and wine, others holding the blessing candles.

Even the hospital staff came, including their favorite barista

As the priest anointed the twins, Mingyu whispered, “Welcome to the Christian world, my loves.”

And Wonwoo, eyes wet, added, “Your sister is watching over you.”

--------

The first month was brutal.

Wonwoo barely slept. Mingyu looked like a zombie half the time. The twins had opposite schedules—Moriah liked midnight crying fits, Warner preferred screaming at dawn.

Mingyu took paternity leave—there was no way he could leave Wonwoo to handle this alone. He became a master diaper-changer, bottle-preparer, and midnight-singer.

He also became a professional at catching Wonwoo when he was about to cry from exhaustion.

“Baby, you’re doing amazing,” Mingyu whispered one night as they sat together with two sleeping babies in their arms. “You’re everything.”

Wonwoo just leaned his head on Mingyu’s shoulder. “I love them. And I love you. But if they both cry at once again, I might cry harder.”

Mingyu just laughed and kissed them 3.

Monthly Milestones

Month 1: Moriah smiled for the first time. Mingyu swore it wasn’t gas.

Month 2: Warner held Mingyu’s finger for the first time and didn’t let go for hours.

Month 3: They rolled over for the first time—Wonwoo screamed like he saw fireworks.

Month 4: Family photo day. Moriah drooled on Jeonghan’s silk shirt. Seungcheol declared her a fashion icon.

Month 5: Warner’s first attempt at crawling. He made it three inches. Everyone clapped like he won an Olympic medal.

Month 6: The twins giggled—actual full belly laughs. At Dino’s silly dance. They replayed the video a hundred times.

Seven Months Later

The family drove to a quiet part of the city, where the air was still and the flowers were always fresh.

Baby Magdiel’s resting place.

Wonwoo knelt slowly, placing soft pink tulips. “These are your siblings,” he whispered, holding Moriah’s hand and guiding Warner to sit with him.

Mingyu stood behind them, hands on Wonwoo’s shoulders. “They’ll know about you,” he said gently. “They’ll grow up loving you, too.”

Wonwoo nodded, smiling through his tears. “You’re always going to be our first.”

Eight Months Without Intimacy

It wasn’t just exhaustion—it was the baby spit-up, the hormones, the colic, the no-sleep schedule. There was barely time to brush teeth, let alone think about intimacy.

But Mingyu never complained.

He just kissed Wonwoo’s forehead every day and said, “You’re beautiful. You’re amazing.”

Then, one night, Mingyu’s parents showed up at the door with duffel bags.

“We’re here to babysit,” his mom said brightly. “Take the week off. Go have a honeymoon.”

“But—” Wonwoo blinked.

“No buts,” his dad said. “Just go be married.”

That night, the house was silent for the first time in months. The nursery dim, the air still.

Wonwoo turned to Mingyu and whispered, “Do you think they’ll be okay?”

Mingyu grinned, pulling him close. “They’ll be okay. But we—” he cupped Wonwoo’s cheek gently, “—we need this.”

Wonwoo kissed him first.

And after eight long months, they finally made love again—slow, reverent, like the world had finally turned quiet just for them.

The warmth between them was familiar, healing. They didn’t rush. There was no performance, no pressure—just Mingyu kissing every stretch mark and tracing every new curve with adoration. Wonwoo’s hands trembled as he held his husband close, murmuring apologies for the long wait. Mingyu only hushed him, saying, “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You gave me everything.”

They lay tangled in silk sheets, bare and vulnerable in the safest way.

“Hey,” Mingyu whispered into the dark, fingers tracing Wonwoo’s collarbone. “Do you remember where the twins were made?”

Wonwoo blinked, groggy but amused. “Huh?”

“Was it Japan? Or Paris?”

Wonwoo thought for a moment, biting his lip. “Paris. I remember. The hotel with the tiny bed, and you said we didn’t need room when all you wanted was to be close.”

Mingyu grinned and pulled Wonwoo even closer. “City of love indeed.”

Wonwoo chuckled against Mingyu’s skin. “Guess we made love a little too well.”

Two days later, with kisses to Moriah and Warner and a thousand instructions to Mingyu’s parents, the couple boarded their private plane to the Maldives.

No crying, no feeding alarms. Just the sound of waves and the scent of ocean air.

Their villa was built on stilts above clear turquoise waters. Each morning, the sun kissed their faces awake. Each night, they made love again—not hurried or frantic, but like they were re-learning each other’s rhythm.

They ate barefoot on the sand, lounged in hammocks, swam naked under moonlight.

One night, they sat by a firepit outside their private bungalow, Wonwoo nestled between Mingyu’s legs as they gazed at the stars.

“I missed this,” Wonwoo murmured.

Mingyu kissed his temple. “I missed us.”

“I think this is the first time I’ve felt like me again,” Wonwoo whispered.

Mingyu squeezed his hand. “You’re more than you’ve ever been. You’re not just the love of my life anymore—you’re the other parent to the best kids I could’ve ever dreamed of.”

Wonwoo’s eyes shimmered. “We made them, Min.”

“We did. In Paris.”

“And now they’re waiting for us back home,” Wonwoo added with a sleepy smile. “But just a few more days, okay? I want to sleep on your chest and wake up to ocean for a bit longer.” Wonwoo added

Mingyu nodded, stroking his hair. “You can have forever like this if you want.”

They kissed under the stars.

And for the first time in eight months, they didn’t just survive. They lived.

Chapter Text

The sun hung low on the horizon, casting golden light through the trees as Mingyu and Wonwoo strolled hand in hand through the familiar campus grounds. Their old university stood like a preserved memory—unchanged, while they themselves had grown, healed, and found their way back to each other.

When they reached the clinical laboratory building, a rush of nostalgia swept over them.

Mingyu’s fingers trailed along the edge of a lab bench, his touch gentle, reverent—like he was tracing the outline of a long-lost love letter. Wonwoo watched him with a soft smile, heart swelling with the quiet intimacy of the moment.

“I never thought I’d come back here like this,” Mingyu murmured, turning to face Wonwoo. “Not just as a memory, but with you… with us.”

Wonwoo stepped closer, the warmth of Mingyu’s breath against his skin sending a subtle thrill through him. “It’s like this place held a piece of us all along, waiting for us to find it again.”

Without another word, Mingyu reached out and cupped Wonwoo’s cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over his swollen lips. Wonwoo’s eyes fluttered closed, leaning into the touch, the tension of years melting away in the warmth of Mingyu’s palm.

Slowly, Mingyu lowered his head, pressing a kiss to Wonwoo’s lips—soft at first, hesitant, tasting and teasing. Wonwoo responded, parting his mouth, letting Mingyu deepen the kiss until the small sounds they made echoed faintly in the quiet room. It was a kiss that spoke of forgiveness, of rediscovered desire, of promises made and kept.

Mingyu’s hands moved with a new confidence, sliding from Wonwoo’s face to his neck, then down over his shoulders, pulling him closer. Wonwoo’s fingers found Mingyu’s shirt, trembling slightly as he tugged at the fabric, eager to feel the heat of his skin.

With careful urgency, Mingyu lifted Wonwoo onto the lab bench, the cold surface sending a shiver through his body, quickly replaced by the warmth spreading between them. Mingyu’s hands explored slowly—the curve of Wonwoo’s waist, the hollow at the base of his throat, the swell of his chest beneath the thin fabric.

Wonwoo gasped softly as Mingyu’s lips found the delicate skin of his neck, trailing hot, feather-light kisses down to the swell of his breasts. Mingyu’s mouth closed gently over a nipple, sucking softly, and Wonwoo’s breath hitched—a mixture of surprise and deep, aching pleasure. His nipples were swollen from the early days of milk production, sensitive and taut, and Mingyu, ever the doctor, knew exactly how to touch them.

“You’re perfect,” Mingyu whispered against his skin, voice thick with emotion and desire.

Wonwoo’s hands tangled in Mingyu’s hair, pulling him closer, needing more. “Mingyu… I want you inside me again. I want to feel you—now, always.”

Mingyu smiled against his skin, a slow, knowing curve of his lips. “You’re my home, Wonwoo. Because I have you at home, I am able to stand still.”

Their bodies pressed together, skin sliding against skin, electric and tender. Mingyu’s hands roamed with gentle insistence, finding the places that made Wonwoo shiver and sigh. They moved as one, rediscovering the rhythm they had once lost—the slow build of desire, the soft sighs and whispered names in the quiet laboratory.

Mingyu kissed along Wonwoo’s collarbone, then slid his fingers beneath the waistband of Wonwoo’s pants, stroking with reverence. Wonwoo arched into the touch, breath catching, eyes closed. Mingyu’s lips found Wonwoo’s again, this time deeper, hungrier, the kiss fueling the heat growing between them.

Their bodies fit perfectly, the years apart making this reunion all the more urgent and sacred. Mingyu’s hands held Wonwoo steady, anchoring him with whispered reassurances—“I love you,” “You’re doing amazing,” “I’m here.” Wonwoo’s fingers traced the lines of Mingyu’s back, memorizing every inch as they moved together in a slow, steady dance.

In the pauses between breaths, they shared soft smiles, tender touches, and quiet laughter—the kind that only comes from knowing someone’s soul intimately.

As Mingyu pressed a gentle kiss to Wonwoo’s swollen breasts once more, Wonwoo whispered, “Let’s make a new memory here. Together.”

Mingyu nodded, lips brushing the shell of Wonwoo’s ear. “Always.”

The world outside the lab faded away, leaving only the warmth of their bodies, the mingled scent of sweat and love, and the quiet hum of a place that had witnessed the start of their forever.

-------
Moriah was giggling, clutching her dad’s stethoscope with determined little hands, while Warner was tugging at the lab coat folded on the chair.

“You two are chaotic energy,” Wonwoo laughed, scooping them both up as he balanced a clipboard in one hand.

“Just like their father,” Mingyu teased, entering the med tech lab with two cups of iced americano—one for his husband, the other decoy for their daughter who insisted she needed “coffee like Appa.”

“Excuse me,” Wonwoo deadpanned, giving Mingyu a look over the rim of his cup. “They’re like us. Equal parts disaster and brilliance.”

They were now two years old. Moriah—the more vocal one, already stringing together funny observations with the intelligence that made every nurse melt. Warner—quiet, observant, affectionate, already protective of his twin sister. Everyone in the hospital called them “Mini Kim” and “Mini Jeon.”

Sometimes, their co-workers said the twins were like seeing history repeat, just smaller and messier.

Moriah and Warner ran barefoot on the grass of their mansion’s backyard, giggling as they chased bubbles Mingyu blew. The twins were bundles of joy—Moriah with Wonwoo’s quiet thoughtfulness and Warner with Mingyu’s sunny mischief.

“Appa! Appa!” Warner squealed, crashing into Wonwoo’s legs with a laugh.

“Careful, buddy,” Wonwoo said, scooping him up.

From the kitchen, Jeonghan and Seungcheol watched with fond eyes. “That’s the happiest I’ve ever seen Wonwoo,” Jeonghan said, patting his own baby bump ready for their second child.

Seungcheol grinned. “It’s because he’s finally with someone who makes love easy. Just like us, babe.” Jeonghan snobbed and then laughed.

At the Hospital…

Dr. Kim Mingyu and Chief Med Tech Jeon Wonwoo had become legends. Parents requested them by name, children clung to them, and even the grumpiest elderly patients softened in their presence.

“Dr. Kim, you’re way too handsome to be a doctor,” one grandma teased as Mingyu listened to her lungs.

Wonwoo passed by, rolling his eyes. “And yet he still forgets where he parks his car every day.”

The nurses chuckled. Joshua leaned on the nurse’s station, whispering to Seungkwan, “They’re still disgustingly in love.”

Wonwoo popped into the breakroom later with Moriah and Warner dressed in matching scrubs. “Just dropping off the future Dr. Kim and Med Tech Jeon.”

The staff melted.

“They’re gonna run this hospital someday,” Jun said proudly.

One Quiet Night…

Under the soft canopy of the stars, Mingyu and Wonwoo sat on their porch swing. The twins were finally asleep. Moriah had her thumb in her mouth. Warner clutched his toy stethoscope.

“Do you think we’ll ever stop being so in love?” Mingyu asked softly.

Wonwoo leaned against him. “I don’t want to. Not even in our 80s.”

“I’m still shocked you said yes back then,” Mingyu whispered, kissing his temple.

“And I’m still grateful you asked.”

They didn’t need grand gestures anymore—just these quiet moments. Their love had survived heartbreak, grief, time, and change. What remained was a home, a family, and a life they rebuilt piece by piece.

-------

The twins turned two that weekend. Their christening had come and gone, and now their birthdays were filled with balloon arches, a custom bouncy castle, themed cakes (Moriah wanted butterflies, Warner wanted dinosaurs), and friends who had watched them grow.

“Family photo!” Seungcheol called out.

Everyone gathered.

In the center stood Dr. Kim Mingyu and Chief Med Tech Jeon Wonwoo, holding their two precious blessings with Mingyu holding an ultrasound photo or their first baby, Magdiel. Behind them stood their 11 closest friends, arms around each other, beaming.

Mingyu looked at Wonwoo.

Wonwoo smiled, whispering, “We made it.”

And Mingyu replied, “We’ll keep making it. Forever.”

The shutter clicked.

The world kept turning—but in that single captured frame, it stood still, just long enough to say:

This is love. This is home.