underneath the blue sky 💙

Chapter 1: The Apartment at the Edge of Hannam The apartment smelled of warmth. Soy sauce, garlic, and the toasted nuttiness of sesame oil drifted through the air like a soft blanket. In the kitchen, Ha Jin stood by the stove, wooden spoon in hand, as the stew simmered in a heavy-bottomed pot. He wore a pale mint apron tied neatly over a cream-colored shirt and loose beige slacks that just brushed the tops of his house slippers. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing delicate wrists, a pale pink scar near the knuckle of his thumb where he’d once sliced himself too quickly. A soft voice played through the Bluetooth speaker on the counter — the host of a cooking podcast he often listened to, one that focused on nostalgic Korean dishes. Today’s dish was Gamja Jorim, braised potatoes in soy glaze. Simple, homey, comforting. "My mother used to add a hint of corn syrup," the podcast voice said, gentle and rhythmic, "to give it a glossy finish. It was the kind of dish that tasted better the next day... after it had soaked up all the flavor." Ha Jin smiled faintly, eyes cast down on the glistening chunks of potato in his pot. Soaking up all the flavor... he thought. Maybe people were like that, too. You become richer the longer you sit with your feelings. Beside the stove lay his well-worn cooking diary. Its cover was light brown faux leather, slightly stained with grease in one corner, decorated with carefully hand-drawn illustrations — a tiny egg with a sleepy face, a dancing tteokbokki stick, a chibi version of himself holding a spoon larger than his body. Inside, the pages were lined but often ignored; Ha Jin wrote in loops and swirls, with recipes, crossed-out notes, little hearts beside names of dishes the others loved best. He scribbled into today’s entry: > "Gamja Jorim — added green chili for Min Gul. Joonie might say it’s too salty. Tae Yi will eat too fast. Do Yun will ask if it builds muscle. Woo Young... will sneak the last piece. Seo Rin might not eat at all. Reminder: Add tofu side for tomorrow." As the pot gave a soft burble, the front room exploded in sound. "Ha Jin hyung!! What’s for dinner?!" Tae Yi’s voice, bright as a puppy’s bark, shot across the space. He skidded into the kitchen in oversized beige pajama pants with stars on them, a lime-green hoodie slipping halfway off his shoulder, and his dark, fluffy hair a mess of sleep and chaos. His cheeks were pink with excitement. He tripped. Of course. Over a giant plush bear that had been left sprawled like roadkill near the kitchen doorway. "Oof!" Ha Jin turned just in time to catch the boy by the elbow. He chuckled, that soft velvet laugh that barely made a sound. "Tae Yi," he sighed, nudging the bear aside with his foot. "How many times do I have to tell you? If you don’t put your plushies away, someone’s going to break a leg. Most likely you." Tae Yi grinned sheepishly. "I gave him freedom. He was exploring the wild floor space." "Tell your bear to explore your room instead." Before Tae Yi could deliver a comeback, the front door creaked open. Heavy steps followed. "Again? You almost flattened yourself like a pancake," Do Yun muttered, stepping inside. The tall, broad-shouldered youngest wore a black tank top and navy joggers, a gym towel slung around his neck. His hair was damp, a post-shower mess, and his expression was mildly irritated — a default setting where Tae Yi was involved. "Maybe I like pancakes," Tae Yi teased, sticking out his tongue. "You’re more like a flying pancake." "You’re just jealous I have better aerial skills." "You mean flailing." "I call it advanced tumbling." "You’re going to end up in traction." They started bickering again — Tae Yi flinging a plush carrot at Do Yun, who dodged and retaliated by tossing a cushion straight at Tae Yi’s face. Just then, the door clicked open once more. "What is going on in this zoo—?" came a voice. Woo Young had arrived. He stepped in with his usual soft swagger, dressed in wide-legged cream trousers and a soft lavender shirt tucked loosely into his waist, the sleeves rolled halfway to his elbows. A few colorful pins glittered on his chest — stars, a frog, a tiny cat paw. Tousled black-brown curls framed his chestnut-shaped face, and his warm brown eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh no," he said, dramatically setting down his canvas tote. "The children are at war again." "He started it!" Tae Yi pointed at Do Yun. "He tripped over his bear," Do Yun huffed. "In MY defense, the bear betrayed me." "In HIS defense," Woo Young grinned, walking in, "he does have poor depth perception." "You’re not helping!" "I’m not trying to." They continued the banter — Tae Yi ducking behind Woo Young as Do Yun reached out to flick his forehead. Suddenly, a loud, sharp voice boomed from the hall. "Tae Yi! How many times have I told you NOT to leave your drafts on the dining table?" Silence. Min Gul had arrived. He stood at the end of the hallway in all-black attire — a loose turtleneck sweater, dark slacks, and his signature heavy boots. His pale skin looked even starker under the hallway lighting, and his dark eyes were sharp beneath heavy brows. He looked like a shadow personified. Tae Yi squeaked, immediately scuttling behind Woo Young. "It was... it was just ONE sheet—" "One sheet with ink all over the edge of my lyric pages. And chibi versions of yourself with ‘Min Gul hyung is scary’ speech bubbles?!" "That was creative license!" "That was slander." Woo Young stepped in calmly, hands raised. "Okay, okay, everyone breathe. No chibi wars today. Gul Hyungnim, he didn’t mean to harm. Just... a bit of over-imagination." Min Gul huffed but said nothing, rubbing his temples. Tae Yi peeked out from behind Woo Young’s shoulder with a tiny smile. "See? Even my imaginary versions are cute." "Imaginary version of you is grounded," Min Gul snapped, but his voice had lost its earlier heat. And just as the air settled again— The front door swung open with a loud slam. "I’m home," came a voice, worn and moody. Seo Rin entered, wearing a slightly oversized beige trench coat over a light blue shirt tucked into his white slim-fit trousers. His face, though breathtaking as always with a soft pink tint on his cheeks and neat dark hair brushing his eyebrows, was drawn and tired. His normally graceful gait was replaced with a slump as he dropped his bag beside the sofa. He collapsed onto the cushions with a long sigh from his soft pink lips. Kicking his shoes off. Ha Jin approached softly, holding a small cup of warm citron tea. "You looked like you needed this." Seo Rin looked up, startled, then relaxed. He took the cup without a word but offered a tiny nod. Ha Jin didn’t press. He sat beside him, not too close. Silence stretched between them, not awkward, just settled. After a few minutes, Seo Rin finally spoke. "My manager said my mood’s affecting my work. Said I’m too soft-looking to have a strong presence. Too quiet to lead a team. Ha Jin leaned back, resting his arms on his knees. "That’s a funny complaint from someone who leads one of the biggest creative teams in Seoul." Seo Rin let out a humorless chuckle. "I should smile more. Be louder. More alpha." "You’re not a dog," Ha Jin said flatly. "You’re a designer. Your work speaks." There was a long pause. Seo Rin took a sip of the tea and stared into the cup. "Sometimes I wish I were more like Do Yun... or even Tae Yi. Loud. Certain. Noticeable." "And then the world would lose the only person who makes quiet look like poetry." Seo Rin blinked. Ha Jin offered a soft smile, one that didn’t push too far. "You don’t have to be loud to be heard, Rin." Across the room, Tae Yi poked his head in from the hallway. "Did someone say my name? Was it in praise? Be honest." Do Yun followed, expression exasperated. "He tried to tie a plushie to my dumbbell." Tae Yi: "IT WAS FOR AESTHETICS!" Ha Jin stood up before they could start again. "Tea. Now. Both of you." Woo Young looked up. " Hyung, add some honey in mine, please. I’ve had to referee three arguments today. I deserve luxury." As chaos began to stir again, Seo Rin looked up at Ha Jin. Just for a second. There was warmth in his gaze. And maybe a tiny hint of strength returning. The night wasn’t over. But under this roof, beneath the blue sky, they all shared—somehow, it felt survivable. Meanwhile, Tae Yi and Do Yun were still bickering faintly in the background. Across the room, seated under the warm amber glow of the standing lamp, was Kim Joon Seo. He sat straight-backed in a wooden chair, long legs crossed, a thick book cradled in one hand. His sharp jaw and elegant features seemed carved from ink and light. A pair of round glasses rested on his nose, dimples showing faintly whenever his lips twitched in amusement. He wore a dark green sweater layered over a crisp black shirt, a quiet contrast to the chaos of the apartment. But he wasn’t really reading. His eyes drifted occasionally toward the others. Toward Hae Jin. Four years ago, they’d met at a university poetry exhibition—Hae Jin’s eyes lingering too long on a verse, Joon Seo’s soft voice offering insight. There had been something immediate between them, something unspoken yet heavy with meaning. They hadn’t started dating until two years later, but that first meeting had felt like the opening line of a poem they were still writing. Joon Seo’s gaze softened as he watched Hae Jin laugh with Seo Rin. The apartment glowed in a kind of chaos—music from Woo Young’s phone, Tae Yi teasing. Another Monday evening at the edge of Hanam. Another quiet storm of warmth, laughter, secrets, and scars. And somewhere in that space—beneath the smell of stew and the echo of banter—was the steady heartbeat of chosen family. But the warmth had returned to the apartment — the chaos settled like a favorite blanket pulled tight after a long day.