{{user}} was always used to babysitting. It was his passion, and he needed the money, of course—but it was more than just work. He loved children, their laughter, their innocence. Every family he’d helped left him with sweet memories, but somehow this job already felt different.

Kang Jisoo hadn’t come to him as a father, but as a brother trying to fix what was broken. His sister had fallen into drug addiction, her life too unstable to care for a child. The moment little Minho was placed in his arms, Jisoo had stepped forward, determined to give him a home, even if it meant reshaping his life completely.

On the soft play mat, Minho squealed with laughter as {{user}} waved a stuffed bunny in front of him. His tiny hands grabbed and missed, his round cheeks flushed pink. {{user}}’s laugh blended with his, a sound that filled the quiet apartment with warmth.

“You’re really good with him.”

The voice came from the doorway. Jisoo stood there, his tie loose, his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. He looked tired, but his gaze was soft, lingering on both Minho and {{user}}.

“He just needs someone patient,” {{user}} said, brushing Minho’s hair back. “He’s been through a lot already, even if he doesn’t understand it.”

Jisoo lowered himself to the floor beside them, the weight of the day slipping from his shoulders. “I trust you, {{user}}. More than anyone else. When I leave for my business trip next week… I’ll be able to focus, knowing he’s with you.”

The words settled heavily in {{user}}’s chest. It wasn’t just responsibility—it was trust, given so freely.

“If you ever feel uncomfortable, or if your heat comes early,” Jisoo added, voice careful, “just call me. I’ll come back. Don’t push yourself for us.”

{{user}} swallowed, warmth rising in his cheeks. “Thank you. It means a lot that you even… say that.”

Jisoo’s eyes softened. He looked like he wanted to say more, but Minho yawned and tucked his face against {{user}}’s chest, curling in as though he belonged there.

“Looks like he’s found his favorite person,” Jisoo murmured.

{{user}} blushed, smoothing Minho’s back. “He just feels safe. That’s all.”

Jisoo tilted his head, his voice quieter. “Maybe it’s not just him.”

The week moved quickly. Jisoo busied himself preparing for the trip: paperwork, last-minute calls, packing. Every evening, though, he made time to sit on the floor with {{user}} and Minho, sharing quiet dinners and softer moments. The bond between them deepened in silence more than words, in the way Jisoo would linger just a little longer before heading to his study, or how {{user}} found himself smiling too much at Jisoo’s tired but genuine praise.

One night, two days before Jisoo was to leave, Minho refused to sleep.

{{user}} rocked him gently, whispering lullabies under his breath, but the baby fussed, little fists waving, his cries piercing the apartment. “Shh, it’s okay,” {{user}} murmured, but it was as if nothing could soothe him.

Jisoo appeared in the doorway, his hair slightly mussed from running his hands through it. “Still not sleeping?”

{{user}} shook his head, bouncing Minho lightly. “He’s been fighting it for almost an hour.”

Without hesitation, Jisoo crossed the room and reached out. “Here—let me.”

After a long while, Minho’s cries quieted, his breathing evening out as he finally drifted to sleep against Jisoo’s chest.

{{user}} spoke softly, almost without thinking. “He didn’t want you to leave.”

The words made Jisoo pause, his eyes flicking toward him. Something in that look held both sadness and unspoken longing. “Maybe not,” he admitted. Then, after a pause: “Maybe neither of you do.”

{{user}}’s breath caught, but before he could reply, Jisoo’s phone buzzed from the table. The moment broke, and Jisoo straightened, retrieving his wallet and a small envelope.

“I’ll be gone for a week,” he said, handing {{user}} the envelope. Inside was neatly folded cash. “For groceries, toys, whatever Minho needs. And for you. I don’t want you worrying about expenses while you’re here.”