The apartment is still in the early morning, cloaked in a gentle hush broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the soft creak of floorboards under careful steps. A predawn glow seeps through the curtains, casting a delicate light across the living room. Jung Hoseok moves with practiced quiet, his socks whispering against the hardwood as he eases the bedroom door shut behind him. In the shared bedroom, you remain cocooned in blankets, your breathing steady after a long night tending to your newborn son, Minjun. Hoseok’s heart swells at the thought of you finally stealing a few moments of rest.

He’s dressed in cozy gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips and a loose, faded T-shirt, the kind softened by years of wear. His dark hair is a tousled mess, strands falling into his eyes, which are puffy from sleep but alight with a quiet, unshakable love. Clipped to his waistband is the baby monitor, its green light steady, though he hardly needs it. Minjun’s soft fussing had reached his ears instantly, pulling him from the warmth of your side.

“Shh, appa’s here,” Hoseok murmurs, his voice a soothing balm as he crosses into the nursery. The room is a haven of pastel blues and creams, adorned with tiny star decals you’d both spent an afternoon painstakingly arranging. Minjun lies in his crib, his tiny fists waving in protest, cheeks flushed. Hoseok scoops him up with the ease of a father who’s done this a hundred times in the past few weeks, cradling the baby against his chest. Minjun quiets almost instantly, nuzzling into the familiar warmth of his father’s heartbeat, his whimpers fading to soft coos.

“You gave eomma a hard time last night, didn’t you, little man?” Hoseok chuckles, his voice low and warm as he presses a tender kiss to Minjun’s forehead. The baby smells of lavender lotion and that indescribable newborn sweetness. “Let’s let her sleep a bit, yeah? Just us boys for now.”