“Omma,” Seokchul whined. “I’m cold.” He was only wearing his long-sleeved Pororo shirt. He nuzzled up closer to you, tucking his head of soft black hair under your chin.
"I’m sorry baby," you said, grabbing his jacket from your big shoulder bag. "I’m so sorry. Omma’s being crazy right now, for Christsakes we’re hiding in a bathroom for your stupid fucking father
Oh my god, I need to stop cursing around you, I’m going to corrupt you before you’re in grade school.”
"I want to go home!" he said, his lip quivering, the calm before the storm.
"I know, just give it ten minutes. I have no god damned idea when this is over."
"I want to go now!" his round face began to turn red, and his doughy little hands balled into fists.
You rubbed your hands over your face. “Yeah, you’re right, you’re totally right. You’re the rational one, how are you the rational one. You’re three years old Chulie!”
"Lets gooooooooo," he whined again, ignoring the praise he probably didn’t understand anyway.
"Yeah, lets go," you said, picking up the big green totebag full of baby crap. You slung the bag on one shoulder and the baby on the other and walked out of the bathroom. The hall was empty, a big, echo-y shell of a room where hundreds of teenagers once stood to ogle the father of you child. No big deal.
"I thought you left," you heard from behind you. You turned to see Yongguk in a black long black sweater riddled with holes.
"What the hell are you wearing?" you said, "did you fall in a prickly bush?"
He stepped closer to you. “I like this sweater.”
"Then sew it up, what’s wrong with you."
"It was made this way, this isn’t important." He was standing directly in front of you. His hand pushed your chin up to meet his. "What’s important is that you’re standing right in front of me. I haven’t seen you in years." He leaned down to kiss you, and Seokchul began to scream and wail.
"Chul!" you said, stepping away from Yongguk, letting the redness in your cheeks die down.
“Omma I want to go home!” he whined. He was tired and cranky—you made him sit all day waiting for Yongguk.
"I know, I’m so sorry, my love, we’re leaving," you said. "I need to go catch a cab, before all of the drivers become creeps. We have to go. I’m sorry."
"No," Yongguk said. "You left me alone for four year, I’m not letting you go again."
You scrunched up your nose, “Excuse me? I have to go, my son doesn’t want to be out anymore. Jesus-God, Youngguk, this isn’t all about you.”
He cracked a small smile, “You’re exactly the same.”
"No, I’m not. I’ve changed more than you could even imagine. You think having a kid doesn’t change you?"
Yongguk looked at Seokchul and took his hand again. Seokchul looked at Yongguk and stopped crying; you watched him squeeze Yongguk’s finger together. “He’s beautiful. You and you husband must be very proud.”
"Me and my what?" you said, snorting for emphasis. "I’m going home. You’re the stupidest man I’ve ever met in my entire life."
"Excuse me?" he began following you as you made your way to the exit. "Why are you acting like this? What’s wrong with you?"
"Stop acting so stupid. No, I don’t have a husband; I haven’t seen you in four years, and he’s three years old, do you need me to explain the concept of time to you?"
"What? I didn’t know he was three—are you saying?"
"Yes, jesus-god, you solved the puzzle. And your prize is a cranky son who need to go home and sleep, it was nice seeing you, Yongguk, call me in four years and maybe you can see him again.” In retrospect, you didn’t have nearly as much of a reason to be angry at him as you thought at the time, but fuck, you were still angry.
He stopped chasing after you for a moment to say, “Why are you acting like this? Why did you come any find me anyway? Are you really planning to cut me out of your life? And out of our son’s life?”
“My son,” you corrected. “He doesn’t even know who you are; you’re not his father.”
"Then why did you come and find me?" he repeated.
You stopped walking and turned to face him. “I don’t know, okay? This is hard for me. I don’t know how to feel, so before I got in here, I picked angry. That felt the most fitting considering the circumstances.”
"We need to talk about this. I want my son to know who his father is."
"I am going home, Yongguk. He needs to sleep."
"Then I’m coming with you," he grabbed onto your arm and began to walk to the parking lot.
"Get the fuck off of me, you’re not coming anywhere with me! I’m getting into a fucking cab, and then I’m going the fuck home. Jesus-god, why are you making me curse so much in front of my fucking kid.”
"I’m not making you do anything. I never make you do anything, you always make your mind up and make your own decisions for yourself. Our son, for example."
"You’re dragging my away right now, for example, you sneered. “Where are you taking me?”
"To our van. We’re going to your house. I can’t take a cab with you and him, people will talk."
"I don’t care if people will talk! I’m not going to ride in your stupid van with your five other band members and staff!"
"Yes, you are, we’re going to your house, and we’re going to talk about this. About everything."
You pursed your lips and let him drag you up to the car. “Okay.”
You walked (on your own) to the parking lot, Seokchul finally falling asleep on your shoulder. Yongguk took the baby bag from you and carried it into the big gray hall, where his manager was leaning against the band’s van, phone to his ear, and his brow furrowed. He turned to the three of you and pointed his phone to Yongguk like a gun.
"Where the fuck,” he spat fuck like it was laced with poison, “have you been?”
Seokchul woke up and began to shriek and wail on your shoulder.
Yongguk looked down sheepishly at the ground, “I
"Hey!" you yelled back. "Don’t you fucking curse around my kid!"