CHARADES (Namjin.)

EPILOGUE I

It wasn't unusual for Seokjin to get his palms sweaty even in the coldest of weathers. It had always been a nervous habit of his, one he could never seem to get rid of or loose. He didn't think he was nervous despite his body telling him otherwise. He felt more worried than he was nervous, scared than he was anxious, sad, than he was upset. He could feel his heart in his throat beating loudly, making him short of breath, and frankly closer to tears than he thought.

He hated crying, most especially in front of his son, so he held it in, needing to be strong for more than just himself. Jeonghan was the first to walk through the doorway when he opened the door, putting away his shoes and his coat before gently plopping on the couch. He looked exhausted, Seokjin noted so, his eyes were a little droopy with sleep, limbs a little loose from his body. His little nose was blushed from the cold, his lips set into a small pout as he looked up at Seokjin.

"I miss daddy." He uttered, almost silently, looking away the next second when he saw the worried look on his Appa's face. Over the past few days Seokjin had come to realize that he wasn't exactly fond of this part of their conversation. It made his son sad, longing, and that in turn tugged at his heart strings, making him feel helpless that he couldn't do anything about what he wanted.

Putting his shoes away, he joined the little one on the couch, Jeonghan immediately snuggling up to his side, like always, clingy when sleepy. "I miss him too, sweetheart." He muttered back, petting his hair soothingly, trying to lull him off to sleep. He felt tired too, but he knew the thoughts in his head wouldn't allow him rest, the worries he had wouldn't let him be. God, he wanted to cry, wanted to just curse the world and make it right.

"I wish he saw me play today. I played my best." The boy mumbled sleepily, and Seokjin hummed, laughing lightly to himself as he imagined how Jeonghan cheeks were probably puffed out now. The kid had indeed played his best at today's football match, a little group of age seven and eight, grade two and three, converging for a friendly match at the school grounds. Jeonghan had been one of them, and he had played the best of his capabilities, everything that his father had taught him taught.

"He would have been so proud that you won. He loves you very much." He could almost picture the sweet dimpled smile on his husband's face if he were to see how good Jeonghan had played. He could imagine him jumping up and down, kissing their son before treating him to whatever he would want. He would shower him with affection, funnily if Jeonghan won or not. He would generally just be proud that their son had played, that he had done something he loved.

Circumstances hadn't allowed that, and he felt sad about it, even more that Namjoon was probably beating himself up wherever he was for missing it. It wasn't his fault, wasn't anybody's, but it had happened, and Jeonghan had almost shed a tear to see his father missing from the bleachers, his number one fan absent from his game.

"Appa, can I sleep in your room tonight?" Jeonghan asked, sounding sleepy but hopeful in the same. Times when he was sad, or missed one his parents, he'd get clingy, he'd want to be closer to either of them than ever. Seokjin knew it was the least he could do to comfort him, so he hummed in agreement, stroking his head lovingly before putting a small kiss on the crown of his head.

"Of course sweetheart. I'll go get the bed ready. Go brush your teeth." He instructed the almost eight year old, making sure he wasn't half sleeping before letting him go to the bathroom.

Walking into their room, it felt empty without his husband, it felt lonely without his laugh, or his philosophical words. He could see them quietly playing around after putting Jeonghan to bed. Chasing each other like kids, or playing pillow games like enemies. He could see them solving the crossword puzzle over glasses of wine, or tiredly talking about their day in the bubbled tub over soft music. He could see them making love, holding each other to the break of dawn, all while soaring in pleasure, and he missed that, he missed him, his husband.