Stepbrother's babysitting

Jihoon had barely managed to take off the oversized pajama top when he heard the door creak open. Startled, he turned around, only to find Minjae standing at the doorway, one hand casually on the frame, his gaze fixed intently on Jihoon's bare chest.

Minjae's expression was unreadable, though there was a flicker of curiosity and something else Jihoon couldn't quite place in his eyes.

"W-Why are you here?!" Jihoon exclaimed, his voice a mix of panic and embarrassment as he quickly grabbed a pillow from the bed and launched it at Minjae's face.

Minjae caught the pillow with ease, his lips curving into a teasing smirk. "Well someone grew up pretty fast~" he said, stepping further into the room.

Jihoon darted toward the bed, snatching up the pajama top and clutching it to his chest. "Don't you knock?!"

Minjae leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed casually. "I didn't think I needed to," he said, his voice calm but laced with amusement. "It is my room, after all."

Jihoon froze, his eyes widening. "What?"

Minjae's smirk deepened. "This is my room. You passed out last night, so I let you sleep here. I thought you'd figure it out by now."

Jihoon's face turned a deep shade of red as he glanced around the room again, suddenly realizing the faint scent of Minjae that lingered in the air. The thought that he had been sprawled out in Minjae's bed all night made him want to sink into the floor.

"I—I didn't know!" Jihoon stammered, his grip tightening on the pajama top. "You could have at least warned me before barging in like that!"

Minjae chuckled, taking another step closer. "Why are you so flustered? It's not like I haven't seen you shirtless before."

"That was back when we were kids!" Jihoon shot back, his voice cracking slightly. He turned his back to Minjae, hurriedly slipping the pajama top back on.

Minjae watched him with an amused glint in his eyes, but there was also a softness in his gaze as he leaned against the edge of the bed. "Relax, Jihoon. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just came to let you know breakfast is ready downstairs."

Jihoon finished buttoning the top and turned around, avoiding Minjae's gaze. "Fine. I'll be down in a minute. Just... get out so I can change properly."

Minjae raised his hands in mock surrender, his smirk never leaving. "Alright-alright. I'll leave you to it. But don't take too long—I don't want the food to get cold.It's your favourite."

As Minjae walked toward the door, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "By the way," he said, his tone playful, "you really don't need to be so shy around me, Jihoon. It's kind of cute, though."

Before Jihoon could respond, Minjae left, closing the door behind him.

Jihoon stood frozen for a moment, his face burning with embarrassment. He collapsed onto the bed, groaning into the pillow. "This is going to be the death of me..." he muttered.

After a moment, he sat up, shaking his head. "Pull yourself together, Jihoon," he told himself. "It's just Minjae being Minjae. Don't let him get to you."

Still, as he changed into his own clothes and prepared to head downstairs, he couldn't shake the memory of the way Minjae had looked at him—curious, amused, and something else that made Jihoon's heart race.

Jihoon descended the stairs, his steps tentative as the faint smell of breakfast reached his nose. When he entered the dining area, he stopped short, his eyes landing on Minjae at the kitchen counter. Minjae was carefully placing two plates on the table, each adorned with perfectly cooked spam slices, a golden omelet, and small hotdogs cut into shapes resembling tiny dogs.

Jihoon blinked, his heart giving an unfamiliar ache. He hesitated, watching Minjae for a moment longer before walking to the table and sitting down.

Minjae glanced up, flashing him a small smile. "You're just in time. Thought I'd whip up something special since it's your first morning here."

Jihoon picked up the fork and spoon set beside the plate, staring down at the meal. It looked exactly like the dishes their mom used to make for them as kids—the same careful presentation, even down to the silly hotdog shapes. He swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat.

"You... remembered..." Jihoon said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Minjae sat down across from him, pouring coffee into two mugs. "Of course, I did," he said, his tone casual but warm. "You used to light up whenever Mom made this. You'd always fight me for the last piece of spam, too."

Jihoon let out a quiet laugh, though it was tinged with sadness. He picked up the fork, hovering it over the food, but his hands trembled slightly. Memories flooded back—sitting around the family table, laughing and arguing playfully with Minjae, their mom scolding them for stealing food from each other's plates.

He frowned, setting the fork down with a soft clink. "It's... been a long time since I've had this," he said, his gaze dropping to the table.

Minjae watched him carefully, his playful demeanor fading. "Jihoon" he said gently, "it's okay to remember. Not everything about the past has to hurt."

Jihoon clenched his fists, his appetite fading under the weight of the memories. "But it does hurt," he murmured. "Every time I think about how happy we were... I just—" He cut himself off, his voice catching.

Minjae reached across the table, resting a hand on Jihoon's. "Hey" he said softly, his thumb brushing against Jihoon's knuckles. "I know it wasn't easy for any of us, but we still have now. And I'm here, okay? You're not alone anymore."

Jihoon looked up, his eyes meeting Minjae's. For a moment, he saw the sincerity in Minjae's gaze, a quiet promise that he wasn't going to run away again.

Taking a deep breath, Jihoon nodded and picked up his fork again. He took a bite of the omelet, the familiar taste washing over him like a warm embrace. A small smile tugged at his lips.

"It's good" he said softly.

Minjae grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Of course it is. I learned from the best—Mom's recipes never fail."

They ate in comfortable silence for a while, the heavy atmosphere gradually lifting. By the time Jihoon finished his plate, he felt lighter, as though some of the weight he had been carrying had eased.

"Thanks" Jihoon said quietly as he pushed his empty plate forward.

Minjae tilted his head, his smile gentle. "For what?"

"For remembering," Jihoon replied, his voice barely audible.

Minjae's smile widened, and he ruffled Jihoon's hair affectionately. "Always."

As they continued eating, the atmosphere in the room became lighter. They reminisced about their childhood, laughing over small, silly things they had done together. Minjae teased Jihoon about the time he'd tried to build a treehouse and ended up stuck in the tree, while Jihoon shot back with stories about Minjae's terrible singing when they used to have impromptu karaoke nights.

Between bites of food, Jihoon's smile faltered slightly as a memory surfaced. He hesitated before speaking. "Hey, Minjae..."

Minjae looked up from his plate, his expression softening. "Yeah?"

"Do you remember... back in school, when I was getting bullied?" Jihoon asked, his voice quieter now.

Minjae's brow furrowed for a moment before realization dawned on him. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "Of course, I remember. Those jerks thought they could mess with you just because you were popular and the teachers loved you. They were wrong."

Jihoon chuckled softly, though his voice carried a hint of bitterness. "You got into a fight with them. Took all of them on by yourself."

Minjae smirked. "And I won, didn't I?"

Jihoon shook his head, his expression turning serious. "You got punished for it, though. The school called Dad, and he was furious. I'll never forget the sound of that belt..."

Minjae's smirk faded, replaced by a thoughtful look. "Yeah," he said after a moment, his voice calm. "Dad wasn't happy about it. He whipped me pretty good that day."

Jihoon looked down at his hands, guilt washing over him. "I hated seeing that. I felt like it was my fault."

Minjae reached across the table, tapping Jihoon's hand lightly to get his attention. When Jihoon looked up, Minjae's expression was steady and reassuring. "Hey, don't think like that. You were my little brother, and you were in trouble. That's all that mattered to me. An older brother is supposed to protect his family, no matter what."

"But—" Jihoon started, only for Minjae to cut him off.

"No buts Jihoon," Minjae said firmly. "Dad was strict—too strict, sometimes—but I never blamed him for hitting me that day. In his own way, he was trying to teach me responsibility. And honestly? I'd do it all over again if it meant keeping you safe."

Jihoon blinked, his throat tightening at Minjae's words. He hadn't realized just how deeply his older brother had cared for him, even back then.

"Minjae..." Jihoon started, his voice trembling slightly.

Minjae grinned, leaning forward and ruffling Jihoon's hair like he always used to. "Stop looking like you're about to cry, kid. I'm still here, aren't I?"

Jihoon swatted his hand away, a small, genuine laugh escaping his lips despite the heaviness in his chest. "I'm not a kid anymore, you know."

"Could've fooled me," Minjae teased, his grin widening.

As they cleared the table and moved to the living room, Jihoon couldn't help but feel a little more at ease. Minjae's words stayed with him, echoing in his mind: An older brother is supposed to protect his family.

For the first time in a long while, Jihoon felt a glimmer of hope that they could truly start over—maybe even rebuild what they had lost.