Oh Baby, You Part 50 - Cherry
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Idly, you watch the digital, red numbers above the elevator go up one by one. You’ve sometimes wondered if Mingyu hates the chairman’s office, considering its spot on the very top floor, and his genuine fear of heights. Then again, the building is an entirely closed space— he’s more of a bungee jumping scaredy cat than an Empire State Building one.
You look down at the container of cookies you brought. They’re not his favourite, since you didn’t have all the ingredients for that, but you hope they’ll do. Before Mingyu’s complete integration into chairmanship, you used to bake together all the time. You know he’s better than you, (always has been,) but ever since that time you ended up in a baking summer camp together all those years ago, he’s insisted your cookies are the best.
Of course you know he’s being nice, but that’s just another great thing about Mingyu.
You’re wearing a mask over the lower half of your face, and Jeonghan said there’d be no one around to see you. Still, you walk through the halls with your head lowered and only lift it when you come upon Jeonghan’s desk.
He eyes the container. “You sure about this? I’m not even supposed to be going in there right now.”
“Don’t worry,” you say with a smile he can only see in your eyes. “If he’s truly upset, I’ll just leave him the cookies and go. But I promise I’ll try some other time to get you the vacation days you deserve, okay?”
“It’s really not that important…”
Playfully rolling your eyes, you head towards Mingyu’s office. “Whatever you say, Jeonghan.”
You pull on the thick metal handle of the door without knocking, and as soon as you walk in, Mingyu speaks without moving his eyes from his computer screen. “Not right now, Jeonghan. Just tell whoever needs me to—”
“Hey, stranger.”
His face immediately lights up upon seeing you, and you pull down your mask with a smile. Yeah. There’s your best friend.
“Sunshine!” Mingyu pushes himself to standing and quickly rounds his desk to pull you into a hug. “What are you doing here?” He retracts a bit to look at your face in obvious confusion. “I thought you and Jeonghan agreed we shouldn’t meet up here because of… you know.”
You step back and hold out the plastic container of cookies between you. “About Jeonghan…”
Sighing, Mingyu lets you put them in his hands. “Please tell me this isn’t about the whole ‘vacation’ thing… You know I can’t, Sunshine.”
“Why not?”
“It’s just not how things are done.”
“‘How things are done’? Mingyu, you’re the chairman. If there’s anyone who can change the way things are done, it’s you. Especially for someone who’s spent a good third of your life doing his best to help you.”
He sets the cookies down behind him and takes one of your hands, letting your joined fingers dangle between you as he leans back onto the edge of his desk. “Look, I’d love to give Jeonghan some time off. I really would, but we’re in the middle of a lot right now—”
“You’re always in the middle of something here.”
“—and,” he continues, countering your little dig with a wry smile, “I as much as I wish I could give everyone here time off, I’d need time to find a suitable person to fill Jeonghan’s position while he’s gone. That’s where the four months come in.”
You tilt your head, trying to summon those eyes that Mingyu would say he can never refuse. The problem is, you’ve never really been in control of whatever expression it is that he sees. “Surely you could find someone in less time than that.”
He chuckles. “I don’t know if you understand how good Jeonghan is at his job.”
“I have a pretty good idea,” you say with a roll of your eyes.
Mingyu glances at the door, and you turn to it as well, but nothing happens. “Speaking of,” he says quietly, returning your attention to him. “Where is Orion? With Soonyoung?”
“Actually, he’s at a daycare for a—”
“A daycare? Jeonghan didn’t tell me he arranged anything.”
You blink. “Well that would be because he didn’t. I set it—”
“What? Why?”
Pausing for a moment, you make yourself remember that this is exactly the thing you, Mingyu, and Jeonghan are always worried about. Oftentimes, you the most. Having some stranger spend just enough time with Orion to see his resemblance to Mingyu.
“Orion will be preschool age within this next year, so I thought maybe I’d transition to some in-person classes while he attends. The daycare would be for emergencies, or things like weekend exams, or…”
Or when you don’t want to burden your only friends for the rest of Orion’s younger years.
Mingyu rounds his desk again and bends over in front of his computer. “What’s the name of this place?”
“Dream Daycare. It’s near—”
“You know that was careless, right? You should’ve asked Jeonghan or I to—”
“I looked into it. I went over like six places before—”
“Jeonghan would’ve—”
“He has enough on his plate—”
“—taken care of—”
“Mingyu!” Your raised voice manages to shut him up, but he only meets your eyes for a second before he goes back to his computer screen, investigating the daycare’s website. “I did the research. They had no idea who I was — not that anyone really does, since Jeonghan’s done such a good job keeping me anonymous thus far — and seeing as the place is mostly run by some sweet old ladies, they probably have no idea who you are, either.”
He sighs out through his nose. “Are they good?”
“What?”
“Good caretakers,” he clarifies, and you see the genuine worry in his eyes now.
Of course. You should’ve known that the revelation Orion’s true identity wasn’t Mingyu’s primary concern; his safety is.
Exhaling, you try to give Mingyu a reassuring smile. “Yes, Mingyu. They’re excellent. I only chose the place I thought was the best, safest, and kindest for him. He’s my son, after all.”
It’s small.
It’s so small, so short that you almost don’t see it, hear it. Almost miss it entirely.
But you’re certain that Mingyu… scoffs before he says, “Is he?”
For more than a few seconds, you’re frozen. Just slightly, your mouth parts, but you can’t seem to find the right words. Did you even hear him right?
“What… What is that supposed to mean?”
He shakes his head, still scrolling. “Nothing.”
“No,” you rebut. “No, tell me what you meant by that.”
“It’s really nothing.” Straightening himself up, Mingyu fixes you with an uneasy look. You just stand there, cross your arms, and wait for him to cave. It only takes a few seconds. “It’s just, with you telling everyone…”
You let out an affronted sound. “I did not tell everyone. And for that matter, it wasn’t exactly my choice to tell anyone anything at all.”
“Look, forget it. Just pretend I never—”
“But what does any of that have to do with Orion being my son?”
Mingyu takes in a deep breath, his hand coming up to his tie like he wants to wrench it loose, but he only fidgets with it. He looks away, then meets your eyes again. “With this many people knowing he’s not your son—”
“But he is! He is my son, Mingyu. And I am good at taking care of my son.”
It’s too hot in this room. Mingyu’s shoulders rise and fall with another sigh, and for some reason, you can’t stand the look in his eyes.
“I need a breather.” By the time the words come out, you’re already turning and walking towards the door of his office. “Don’t follow me,” you tell him, only because you know your best friend would.
Jeonghan stands up when you shove the door open and storm past his desk, a mix of concern and shock on his face. You must look as upset as you feel.
“I just need a second,” you say, and so he just watches you as you walk off, his mouth opening and closing, but no words coming out.
You have no clue where you’re going, but you think you had the right idea when you made that excuse to leave Mingyu’s office, so you look around for some sort of outdoor exit. A balcony, or something similar. Eventually, you find a staircase, which leads to what looks like a small terrace of sorts.
Only, when you pull the door open and breath in the cool, fresh air, you turn to the right and see someone leaning against the railing. His distant silhouette isn’t the most familiar, and he’s facing away from you, but considering this place, and the only people you know in it…
“Mr Choi?”
He turns, a white stick poking from his lips.
“I’m sorry,” you say, apologizing for interrupting what must be his precious alone time. Still, you really don’t want to go back inside yet. “I…” Your feet pull you a couple hesitant steps toward him. “...didn’t know you smoked.”
While his eyes focus in recognition, Seungcheol’s hand rises to pull the stick from his mouth. The motion reveals the head of a bright red, spherical lollipop.
“Oh. That’s…” You want to say out of character, but you trail off. If you think about it, there isn’t much you know about Choi Seungcheol. “Sorry for assuming. I just wasn’t expecting…”
He says nothing for a little bit, just looking at you as you approach. His eyes seem to study you, and you resist the urge to squirm. When you settle next to him, resting your arms on the railing like he is and keeping your gaze on the cityscape, he finally looks away from you and peers at the lollipop instead.
“...I bought them for him,” he says.
You turn your head, squinting in the bright sunlight. “Who?”
“Your son.”
It’s a weird confession, to be sure, but he can’t know the way those two words affect you in that moment. That’s right. Orion is your son.
“But,” Seungcheol continues, unaware of the reason you needed the fresh air in the first place. He lets out a deprecating huff of a laugh, his head dropping for a second before he faces you again. The lollipop gets brought back up, and he taps it twice against his smiling teeth. “I might’ve gotten myself addicted.”
You can’t help it. You laugh.
Turning again to the skyline, your fold your arms on the railing and drop your chin to rest on them with a sigh. What a beautiful day.
Tap, tap.
You look at your elbow, where Seungcheol pokes a wrapped lollipop. Cherry. Your gaze rises to meet his.
“Something’s wrong,” he says simply, holding the candy out closer to you, silent but insistent.
Maybe he isn’t so unaware after all.
Wordlessly, you take the lollipop with a shy nod and a smile.
You don’t know why, but as soon as you close your mouth around the sweet, artificial cherry flavoured candy, the tears start to form. You hate that it’s now, with one of the very dangerous people to be vulnerable in front of, but you can’t seem to stop the blazing heat in the corners of your eyes. You don’t sob — don’t let yourself — but the tears fall despite your resolve.
It’s irrational, you understand, to be this upset. But it’s hard to believe yourself to be a good parent when you start doubting whether you’re a parent at all.
“Would you…” Seungcheol’s wary voice returns your attention to him. “...like to leave?”
You let out a laugh, embarrassed. He must be uncomfortable. “I probably should.”
As you push yourself off the railing, though, Seungcheol does the same. “Alright,” he says, then takes your hand, and you realize as he leads you back inside and through the building all the way to the ground floor: he’s not wary of you, but for you. “Let’s go, then. Somewhere nicer.”
For some unknown reason, you just swallow down all your trepidation, gently take your hand back, say, “Okay.”
And follow.
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