While the internet continued its enthusiastic process of imploding on itself, on a busy street in Gangnam, two figures stood out from the crowd.
One of them tall, striking, the kind of person that made passersby do a quiet double-take before continuing on with their day — as if their eyes needed a mont to confirm that yes, that person was real and not a rendering.
Beside him, a young man who was quite literally incapable of standing still. Buzzing. Vibrating at a frequency slightly above what the human eye could comfortably track. Adorably, endearingly, completely all over the place.
"August." Salazar's voice was soft. Patient. The particular brand of patient that is built through consistent, prolonged exposure to exactly this kind of energy. "Please. Stop jittering. You are making dizzy." A beat. "Why are you even nervous? You're eting your parents."
"I dunno," August said, coming to a stop and settling beside his manager with the energy of a puppy that had briefly decided to sit. "I'm just — I'm really excited to see them again. And I don't know if I'm overthinking it, but I just..." He trailed off, searching for the words. "I just want them to be proud of , y'know?"
"August," Salazar said, with quiet, genuine certainty. "I'm sure they are already proud of you. And everything you've accomplished."
August's face did sothing complicated.
"I haven't done shit yet though," he said.
A pause.
"...Who taught you that word?" Salazar asked.
"What word?" August blinked.
"The curse word," Salazar said carefully. "The one you just used."
"Huh?" August's brow furrowed. Genuinely, completely lost. The gears turned. And then —
The golden retriever smile appeared. Bright. Sunny. Entirely too pleased with itself.
"Oh! Shit? Is that what you're talking about?"
"Stop saying that—" Salazar's hand ca down on August's shoulder in a light, chastising tap.
"OW—" August rubbed his shoulder with the dramatically wounded expression of soone who had been genuinely, deeply wronged. "Why?! Everyone says it!"
"Who is everyone?"
"Everyone!" August insisted, with the unshakeable conviction of soone who had conducted thorough field research. Then, with slightly more accuracy — "Well... maybe not Isaac-hyung or Bobby-hyung. I've literally never heard either of them swear. Like, ever. But everyone else!"
Salazar filed this information away imdiately. Isaac. Bobby. More ti with Isaac and Bobby. Starting imdiately.
"Regardless," Salazar said, with the composed authority of a man recalibrating his approach, "stop saying that word."
"But WHY—"
"It's a bad word."
August stared at him.
Then, with the energy of soone who had just discovered the concept of rebellion and found it extrely agreeable —
"Well," he said, and actually stomped his foot, like a child of approximately six years old who had been told they couldn't have dessert, "tough shit. I'm gonna keep saying it. Hmph."
"Why you little—"
"Oh!"
The exclamation ca before Salazar could finish his sentence — August's entire body language shifting in an instant, the argunt evaporating, the rebellion forgotten, replaced by sothing so much bigger and brighter that it lit up his whole face at once.
The people they had been waiting for had finally arrived.
****
"엄마! 아빠!" "Eomma! Appa!"
The mont August's eyes landed on them, he was already moving — launching himself forward with the completely unrestrained, full-bodied joy of soone whose heart had just recognized exactly who it had been missing.
"해준아!" "Haejun-ah!"
Both parents stepped forward with open arms and bright, brilliant smiles, catching their son as he crashed into them like a wave finding the shore — the most natural thing in the world, the most inevitable.
(And yes — for those who may have montarily forgotten — August's real na is Haejun. Kim Haejun. A na spoken now with the particular warmth that only the people who gave it to you can manage.)
"많이 보고 싶었어요!" "I missed you both so much!"
His arms tightened around them as he said it, like he was making absolutely sure they were real.
"우리도 많이 보고 싶었어, 아들!" "We missed you just as much, son!"
Both parents said it at the sa ti — overlapping, harmonizing, the way two people do when they have spent enough years together that their hearts have synchronized without trying.
They stayed like that for a long, unhurried mont. No one counting the seconds. No one needing to.
When they finally, reluctantly, untangled themselves — cheeks warm, eyes bright — August's parents noticed the tall figure standing a respectful distance away, watching with a quiet, warm smile.
They turned to Salazar. And without hesitation, with the depth and sincerity that only a parent's gratitude can carry, they bowed — both of them, together — and said, carefully, in English that was held together by pure love and sheer determination:
"Thank you... For taking... Good care of... our — our son."
Every word deliberate. Every word ant.
"어머니, 아버지, 고개를 들어주세요." "Ma'am, sir, please — raise your heads."
Salazar's voice was soft. Genuinely, quietly warm. He looked at them both with the expression of soone who ant every word he was about to say.
"해준이의 매니저로 일하는 건 정말 즐거운 일이에요. 두 분께서는 정말 훌륭한 아들을 키우셨습니다." "Being August's manager has been nothing but pure joy. You have both raised a truly wonderful son."
August's parents exchanged a look — the small, private smile of two people sharing sothing only they fully understand.
"그렇게 생각해 주셔서 감사해요." "Thank you for thinking so kindly of him."
Then, with the practical, loving honesty that only parents can deliver without it stinging:
"하지만 저희 아들, 아직 배울 게 정말 많답니다. 앞으로도 잘 부탁드려요." "But our son still has a great deal to learn. We ask that you please continue looking after him."
"물론이죠." "Of course."
Salazar smiled — warm and unhesitating. Like a promise.
The greetings settled into sothing softer. The four of them finding their footing together, the initial rush of reunion giving way to the quiet pleasure of simply being in the sa place again.
"엄마, 아빠, 그동안 어떻게 지내셨어요? 두 분 다 잘 지내셨어요?" "Eomma, Appa — how have you both been? Are you both doing well?"
August asked it with his whole chest, eyes moving between them, already reaching for his mother's hand and holding on without thinking about it.
His parents looked at each other.
A silent exchange — a small nod, a shared breath, the kind of wordless communication built across decades of partnership. The kind that has its own language, fluent and private.
August watched this with growing curiosity.
His father straightened slightly. Cleared his throat. And then, with the careful, deliberate focus of soone who had been practicing — pointed at August's mother.
"Mom," he said, in English. Then pointed at himself. "And dad." A breath. "We watched you sing and dance." His voice was steady, earnest, holding each word like sothing precious. "We very proud of you — our son."
August's mouth opened slightly.
"Aunties very jealous," his mother jumped in, her eyes absolutely dancing, "because we have a very famous son!"
The pride in her voice was so pure and so complete and so entirely a mother's that it had a physical weight to it.
"Mom and dad," his father continued, "we learning English." He said it simply. Directly. "So we can understand when you sing in English."
His mother's hand — the one August had been quietly holding this whole ti — gave his a gentle squeeze.
"Son speak English very good now," she said softly, looking at him with eyes that were doing several things at once. "So we learn too. So we understand what you say more. When you show on tv. And do interviews."
The squeeze again.
Steady. Warm. We are here. We are paying attention. We are learning your language so we can follow you wherever you go.
The waterworks didn't build gradually.
They just — arrived.
August's face crumpled the way faces do when sothing hits a place that doesn't have walls around it yet, and then he was crying — properly, fully, without any attempt to stop it or hide it, the tears coming fast and honest and completely beyond his control.
His parents blinked. Looked at each other. Looked back at their son.
"왜 울어, 해준아? 왜 그래?" "Why are you crying, Haejun-ah? What's wrong, what's wrong?"
His mother's voice was imdiately soft with concern, her free hand coming up to his face.
"너무너무 사랑해요," August managed, between sobs, voice thick and completely undone. "정말 너무너무 사랑해요!"
And then, because he wanted them to hear it in the language he had worked so hard to learn — the language they were now learning for him — he said it again:
"I love you both so so much!"
His parents looked at their son — this boy who had grown into soone who perford in front of thousands and still held his mother's hand and cried on a street in Gangnam because they told him they were learning English for him — and smiled.
The tender, unguarded, completely helpless smile of two people who are looking at the best thing they have ever done.
"We love..." his mother started, carefully, warmly.
"...you too," his father finished.
Together. The way they always were.
****
PS- Sorry guys for not being able to update yesterday. My brain was fully cooked from new work training.
In return, here's a little wholeso chapter for y'all. Hehehehe 🤭
Thank you guys for understanding! Love y'all! 😘
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