It wasn’t often that Minjae thought back on where he was some odd years ago--- when his outward demeanor was soured by things he just couldn’t find himself letting go of. The thought of it was humorous now, if anything--- the memory of his pouty, angered expressions and his cliched cynical outlook on love and opening himself up to others very nearly causing him to roll his eyes. The attitude had made sense at the time, however. He had been mostly a l o n e growing up--- with no family to fall back on, and an anxious reluctance holding him back from reaching out to others.
It was with a packed house full of Peculiars, much like himself, that he finally found a sense of unity and support--- and it was with Bokyung and Han that he FINALLY found his family ; f i n a l l y found it within him to allow himself that bit of happiness he had always denied himself of in the past. They were everything he EVER needed to effectively tug the boy out of his dark isolation and back into the light. The happy squeals and shouts of laughter from nearby has the boy returning to the present and instantly smiling fondly in response ; watching with unabashed affection as three of their kids tackled a giggling Han to the couch--- Bokyung, of course, being the leader of said ‘ attack. ’ It’s a sight that has him nearly choking up for a moment, quickly blinking away the wash of tears currently threatening to spill. His family--- there wasn’t a picture he enjoyed more than that, honestly. “ Papà?” the tiny voice came from their youngest, wobbling towards his dad on inexperienced feet and small fingers tugging at the sleeve of Minjae’s sweater once he’s reached his destination. He’s long since learned that the small motion signals the boy’s want to be held, so Minjae doesn’t hesitate in lifting his son up into his arms and resting him against his hip. “What is it, mio tesoro?” The Italian term of endearment slips past his lips with sincerity, hoping the familiarity would ease the look of distress currently painted across the younger’s face. The small fist gripping at his sweater fails to loosen however, and the boy is soon aiming his pouted lips up towards Minjae. “Is Papà sad?” The question has the father quirking his head in confusion for a moment, until he’s reaching up to pat away the slight dampness currently residing beneath his eyes. A reassuring quirk to his grin his soon to follow, Minjae leaning forward to press a comforting kiss to his son’s forehead. “Not at all,” he’s quirk to insist, nuzzling affectionately into the boy’s hair. “In fact--- Papà is probably the happiest he’s ever been.” The answer seems to be enough to appease the boy, and he’s soon wiggling down from Minjae’s hold. “Now go get Appa,” he instructs with a small, playful grin--- watching as the youngest runs away giggling, soon climbing his way onto Han’s lap and joining the pile. Calls of ‘ Minjae ’ and ‘ Papà ’ are enough incentive to move his feet towards the others, as well--- settling himself onto the other side of Han, one hand reaching out to lovingly comb through Bokyung’s locks, and the other intertwining through Han’s own. Sure--- he didn’t have many definitive memories of his own childhood--- specifically ones that saw him in a happy home with loving parents. But as far as he was concerned, his a c t u a l family were the ones currently curled up against his side. And the only memories that counted were the ones created with them.
