The chill of December had settled into the city, and with it came the chaos of award show season, year-end preparations, and late-night rehearsals. But despite the frenzy, Lexie's days moved with a quiet rhythm—studio mornings, trainee check-ins, and afternoons carved out for Ethan, who had recently grown fond of spending time in the SM building after his academy classes.
Lexie had adjusted to the demands of being a single mom, even if the quiet parts of her routine left space for thoughts she didn't have the energy to confront. Ethan, ever the curious soul, made the studio his playground—often asking questions about speakers and mics, or curling up with his tablet on the couch while Lexie worked.
And then there was Mark.
Despite being pulled in a dozen directions—practice rooms, award show stages, overseas flights—he always managed to show up. Whether it was short visits to drop off food or late-night texts check on Ethan, his efforts stitched themselves quietly into their lives.
It was close to 7:00pm when Lexie entered the rehearsal room at the company, a warm paper bag in hand and a curious four-year-old holding tightly onto her other. The scent of Korean fried chicken and tteokbokki wafted through the large mirrored space, immediately catching the attention of a few backup dancers slumped on the floor.
"She brought food!" Jaemin called out, collapsing dramatically by the nearest rice ball container. "Lexie, you're a literal angel."
"More like a full-course saint," Jeno added, grabbing chopsticks.
Mark jogged over, shirt damp with sweat, his face lighting up when he saw the two of them.
"You didn't have to," he said, wiping his hands quickly with a towel before reaching for Ethan. The boy squealed as Mark picked him up and hoisted him high, rocket-style.
"You guys would've just starved," Lexie replied, placing containers on the side table. "I know how these rehearsals run. No breaks. No real food. Just vending machine sadness."
"She's not wrong," Haechan muttered through a mouthful of kimbap.
Soon, everyone crowded around the spread. Even the managers hovered nearby, grateful for the surprise meal. Lexie watched the scene unfold with quiet fondness, her eyes lingering on how easily Mark carried Ethan with one arm while sipping from a bottle of water in the other. Her son naturally gravitated toward him lately, and Mark—despite his packed life—never hesitated.
* * *
Back in Lexie's studio later that night, the exhaustion finally settled in.
Ethan was fast asleep on the couch, half-buried under a fuzzy fleece blanket, his hand still loosely gripping a crayon. Lexie sat at her desk, trying to review vocal demo drafts, but her eyes grew heavy. The buzz of the fluorescent lights blended with the hum of the computer. Outside, the streets were quiet. Seoul had fallen into its winter lull.
She wasn't sure when she fell asleep.
It was around 3:00 AM when Mark returned, having wrapped up the last set of practice. He passed by the hallway and paused in front of her studio door, unsure whether to knock. Something told him to check.
Inside, he found them both asleep—Lexie hunched slightly over her desk chair, the soft rise and fall of her breath audible beneath the gentle instrumental loop playing from the speakers. Ethan was curled up on the couch in his tiger-patterned pajamas, snoring faintly.
Mark stepped inside quietly, pulled the jacket from his back, and draped it over her shoulders. But when his fingers accidentally brushed against her hair.
She stirred.
"Hey," she whispered, her voice still laced with sleep.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."
"It's okay." She rubbed her eyes, sitting up slowly. "Done with rehearsals?"
"Yeah. Everyone's half-dead, but we survived."
She smiled, glancing at Ethan. "He was out cold by midnight."
Mark sat beside her, back against the armrest. Their knees brushed.
"I hate how tired you always look," she said quietly, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.
"I don't mind it when it ends like this." He looked at her, then down at Ethan. "Feels like... something right."
Lexie swallowed. Something in his gaze made her heart catch. A long, silent pause stretched between them.
"He called you 'Daddy' last time," she said softly, almost like a confession.
Mark nodded, gaze steady. "I asked him once, if he wanted to."
She turned to him, startled. "You did?"
He shrugged gently. "He said he liked it."
A beat passed. Then he added, quieter this time, "And I do, too."
He leaned in a little—just enough that his forehead nearly brushed hers. Close enough to feel the warmth between them, but not close enough to close the space.
"I don't mind," he whispered. "Not even a little."
Lexie's breath caught. Her chest tightened.
He didn't kiss her.
But somehow, it felt like he had.
* * *
They left the building together just close to 3:30am. The city was still asleep, blanketed in December fog. Mark carried Ethan carefully in his arms, the little boy's head resting on his shoulder. Lexie drove with the heat on full blast.
"You really want to stay here tonight?" she asked as they parked outside her place.
"I want to."
She hesitated but didn't argue.
Once inside, she prepared the bed first, tucking Ethan in against the left side of the bed, his arms wrapped around his rocket plushie.
Lexie returned to the bedroom after washing up, her hair slightly damp and her pajamas loose. She sat on the edge of the bed, checking her schedule for the next day, rubbing her temples.
A soft knock came at the door.
Mark peeked in. "Just checking."
She turned. "You look like you'll collapse in the hallway."
"I'll be fine in the guest room."
"No," she said. "Stay."
He blinked. "What?"
"There's space." She moved slightly, gesturing to the other side of the bed.
"You sure?"
She nodded.
He entered quietly, padding over. She lifted the covers. Mark climbed in, careful not to disturb Ethan. He settled on the right side.
Silence.
Then Lexie's voice. "You okay?"
Mark turned his head. "Yeah. Just... didn't expect this."
She smiled faintly. "Me neither."
He reached over, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"You scare me sometimes," he said softly.
"Why?"
"Because every time I think I'm used to the idea of you and Ethan being part of my life... something like this happens and I realize I'm already in too deep."
She reached across, fingers finding his.
"Maybe that's not a bad thing."
He leaned in, closing the distance. This time, he did kiss her—soft, careful, full of every unspoken thing they'd held back for too long.
When they parted, neither of them moved away. Not right away.
Between them, Ethan stirred slightly, shifting closer to Lexie.
Mark smiled. "Guess this is the family bed now."
Lexie laughed under her breath, eyes still closed. "Guess it is."
And with that, they fell asleep. Together. Finally.
* * *
Somewhere in the quiet, between tangled legs and whispered thoughts, something unspoken unfolded.
Not hurried. Not rushed.
But understood.
It was the kind of intimacy built not on lust but on time. On the way Mark always tied Ethan's shoes. On the way Lexie never asked for anything, but always gave. On the way their lives had slowly braided together without anyone noticing.
By the time the sun began to rise behind the blinds, all three were still asleep in that bed. Ethan curled against Lexie. Lexie tucked beside Mark.
Safe. Whole.
A quiet choreography of three hearts finally in sync.
~~ 끝 ~~