Chapter Text
"Papa... I want to sleep... I'm so sleepy."
A tiny rabbit-like child, more human than rabbit but soft and round like a little plush toy come to life, shuffled into the living room rubbing his eyes. He clutched a worn teddy bear tightly in his right hand, dressed in a loose pajama set that swayed with every sleepy step.
In the spacious, dimly lit living room, two figures sat on the sofa, quietly watching television.
Without hesitation, the small child walked straight to them and squeezed himself right between the two, as if it was the most natural place in the world.
"Papa," he mumbled, already half drifting off, "Dada wants you to come sleep with me..."
One of the figures tilted his head slightly, a teasing smile forming.
"Hey, hey, little warrior..." he said lightly, glancing at the other man beside him. "When did I ever say I wanted Papa to abandon me and go sleep with you?"
Ignoring dada the child opened his arms saying carry him. The man called Papa carefully lifted the child into his arms, a soft smile forming as he watched the little one yawn right against his chest, his tiny grip still holding onto the teddy bear. The warmth of the moment made everything else feel quiet for a second.
"I'll put him to sleep and come back, okay?" he said gently, adjusting the child in his arms. Teetee glanced over from the sofa. He didn't say much, just gave a small, understanding nod.
"Mm... okay. Go on," he replied calmly. And with that, the man walked away slowly, the sleepy child resting against him, already drifting further into dreams.
He softly placed the child onto the bed, pulling the blanket up just enough to keep him warm. The child rolled from side to side, then suddenly turned his head when he noticed Por stepping away.
"Papa..." he called softly, his voice small and sleepy. "Can you tell me a bedtime story? I want to stay with you..."
The man paused for a moment, then sat down beside the bed again with a gentle sigh. He began telling a story in a calm voice, but the child only frowned a little, clearly unimpressed. "That one is boring..." the child mumbled, tugging at the blanket. "Change it..."
A soft chuckle escaped him.
"Alright, alright... how about this one?" he said, leaning back slightly, as if remembering something far away. "It's about how I met your Dada."
The child immediately quieted down, eyes blinking open a little wider.
"So..." he began, voice turning warmer, almost amused, "we were both in the university basketball teams. But not the same one. Different sides." He smiled faintly, shaking his head as if still not believing it.
"We never got along. Not even a little. Every time we met on the court, it was always a fight. Competition, arguments... everything except friendship."
The child shifted closer under the blanket, listening carefully now.
"He was always so serious," Por continued, tone softening, "And me? I just couldn't stand how stubborn he was." A small laugh slipped out.
He paused for a moment, glancing down at the child, who was now quietly watching him.
"And funny thing is," he added gently, "the more we fought... the more I realized I couldn't ignore him."
"It's not your story," the child huffed, pulling the blanket up a little higher over his chest. "You're just talking about your love for Dada." The man paused, blinking for a second before letting out a soft, amused sigh.
"All right, all right..." he said gently, leaning back against the edge of the bed.
"Then what do you want to hear? Our story isn't that exciting, you know. Should I tell you something else instead?"
The child turned his head slightly, eyes still half-lidded but stubbornly awake. "Papa..." he asked suddenly, voice small but serious. "Do you like me or Dada more?"
"Well..." he said slowly, a teasing lilt in his voice as he gently tucked the blanket around the child. "I met your Dada first, so I should love him more, right?"
The child's expression changed instantly. His little brows furrowed, lips puffing into an offended pout as he crossed his arms under the blanket. 'I don't like that answer', he declared firmly. A soft laugh escaped the man as he shook his head.
The child shifted closer, eyes narrowing slightly with sleepy determination.
"Then..." he asked, quieter this time, almost uncertain, "if you met me first... would you like me more than Dada?"
Por let out a soft laugh at the question, shaking his head slightly as if the idea itself was amusing.
"How could I meet you without your Dada?" he said gently, brushing a stray strand of hair away from the child's forehead. "I met you because of him."
For a moment, the room fell quiet. The child didn't respond. He just stared at the blanket, suddenly very still, his small fingers tightening around the edge.
Seeing the silence, Por's expression softened. He leaned a little closer, voice quieter now. "...Hey," he asked gently, "don't you love your Dada?"
"I love him," the child said softly, his voice trembling just a little. "But... you don't pay attention to me when he is with you. You both always leave me with Grandma when you go out..." He pulled the blanket higher, as if trying to hide his face.
"I thought Dada is more important to you than me..."
For a moment, the room felt completely still. Por's smile faded. He couldn't believe they made him feel like that. He gently reached out, placing a hand over the child's small one.
"No," he said immediately, voice warm but firm. "That's not true." The child stayed quiet, but his eyes peeked up slightly. Por sighed softly, moving closer so he was sitting right beside him now.
"Your Dada is important to me," he admitted, "but you are not less important. You're not 'second' to anyone."
He lightly tapped the child's nose, just enough to make him blink.
"When we go out and leave you with Grandma, it's not because we don't want you. It's because Grandma steals you first before we can even argue." A faint smile returned. The child hesitated... then frowned slightly.
"That's not true..." he mumbled, but it didn't sound convinced. Papa chuckled again, softer this time, and leaned down a little so their eyes were level.
"Listen," he said gently, "you didn't exist before I met your Dada. But once you came... you became part of everything. There is no 'more important' or 'less important.' We're just... a family." The child's grip on the blanket slowly loosened.
"...Really?" he asked quietly.
"Really," Por replied, brushing his hair back again. "And if you ever feel like we're not paying attention to you..." He paused, smiling faintly. "...you just have to complain louder."
"Alright... sleep now," Papa said softly, his voice lowering into a gentle hum as he began singing a song, his newest release, "Found."
The melody filled the quiet room like a lullaby wrapped in warmth. His fingers lightly brushed the child's hair as the little one finally stopped moving, his breathing slowing, eyelids growing heavier with each note. Within moments, the child drifted off to sleep... but even in dreams, a tiny thought lingered in his heart...
...What if I had met Papa before Dada?
The question stayed unanswered as sleep pulled him deeper.
Sometime later, the door creaked open softly.
Dada stepped inside, pausing when he saw the dim light and the peaceful scene. The room was quiet except for the faint remnants of the song still hanging in the air. He walked closer, looking at the sleeping child tucked under the blanket, then at Papa sitting beside him. A soft smile formed on his face.
"Looks like the little warrior finally lost the battle," he whispered. He gently sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to wake him.
Then, in a low, warm voice, he said, "...Let's sleep with him today."