BLOSSOMED | SEOKSOO FF ✔️

13

Seokmin named their little bundle of drama Sungho, a name he proudly declared meant "noble protector." Jihoon, unable to contain his sarcasm, muttered under his breath, "More like ‘noble dictator,’ but okay," earning a death glare from Seokmin that was so intense it could have burned a hole in the wall.

From the moment Sungho was born, it was clear this baby wasn’t going to be your average, giggling bundle of joy. No, he came into the world with a deep, existential scowl that only deepened with time.

By three months, Sungho had already mastered the art of judgment. If his bottle wasn’t warmed to the perfect temperature—"NOPE, not acceptable"—he’d scowl until the very earth trembled.

At six months, his disdain was directed at his favorite blanket. Folded wrong? Scowl. Too loose? Scowl.

By the time he hit a year, his glares were full-blown diva-level. He’d tilt his head imperiously, as if demanding an apology for the injustice of the world.

"Sungho doesn’t cry," Soonyoung joked one day, watching the baby give Jihoon the most withering stare. "He just judges you until you fix whatever’s bothering him."

Jihoon, sipping his coffee with his eyes locked on the tiny terror, nodded sagely. "He’s like a tiny Jisoo."

Jisoo, lounging in his usual dramatic flair, smirked. "I take that as a compliment."

Sungho wasn’t just a baby; he was a social force. If he wasn’t the center of attention, he’d make sure the entire world knew it. And how? With his signature, disruptive combination of loud babbling, toy-throwing, and, of course, his terrifying scowl.

One evening, while Jisoo was trying to cook dinner, Sungho sat in his high chair, drumming his tiny fists on the tray with the fury of a man who had just been denied his morning coffee.

Seokmin rushed over, his eyes wide with panic. "What’s wrong, baby? Are you hungry? Is your chair uncomfortable?"

Sungho didn’t answer. He simply pointed directly at Seokmin’s face and babbled something utterly unintelligible.

Jisoo, never looking up from his pot of boiling water, translated in a monotone: "He wants you to make funny faces at him. He’s bored."

Without a second thought, Seokmin complied, pulling the most ridiculous faces imaginable—cross-eyed, tongue sticking out, the works—until Sungho finally giggled, a sound that echoed through the kitchen like the sound of victory.

Jisoo, from his spot on in kitchen, shook his head in disbelief. "You’ve created a monster."

Taking Sungho out in public? A nightmare for anyone in his path. At the grocery store with his father and uncle, for example, he demanded constant acknowledgment, pointing dramatically at random items on the shelves. If they weren’t acknowledged immediately, the tantrum started—loud, fierce, and with absolutely no mercy.

One time, Sungho scowled so intensely at a woman who dared smile at him that she immediately recoiled, visibly shaken by the sheer force of his glare.

Seokmin sighed, rubbing his temples. "He’s going to need PR lessons by the time he’s five."

Soonyoung, bless his heart, was completely unfazed. "He’s just expressing himself!"

Dino, who had tagged along with his dad leaned in and whispered, “Yeah, he’s expressing that he’s the boss.”

Of course, Jeonghan was a bad influence. During his visits, he couldn’t resist encouraging Sungho’s dramatic tendencies. "You have to set the standard high, little one," he’d say, his voice smooth and seductive like a true diva. Sungho would nod solemnly, as if he understood every word.