TOMORROW | Changbin

12||My Kids

Changbin's POV

Maneuvering the minivan through rush hour traffic was like navigating a mosh pit at a concert – pure chaos.

"Hyung! Hyung! Booba time!" Jisung's high-pitched pleas were punctuated by rhythmic thumps against his window, mimicking a bassline only he could hear.

"Hold your horses, drama king," I replied, dodging a rogue grocery bag.

"Ugh, this traffic is brutal," whined Felix sprawled across the middle seat like a starfish. "Anyone craving some high-class restaurant therapy after this meeting?"

Then came Jeongin's melodramatic stomach growls. "Hyung, my tummy is singing a sad opera! Can't we refuel first?"

Seriously, these guys and their never-ending snack emergencies. You'd think they were paid in gummy bears.

Suddenly, Hyunjin, perched precariously in the front, decided my driving needed critique. "Dude, why the meeting today? Don't you know it's Bang Chan pampering time?" he declared, yanking on my imaginary collar.

I gritted my teeth, a bead of sweat forming on my temple. One wrong move and we'd all be auditioning for a windshield commercial."Don't know! Ask my father" I replied trying my best to concentrate.

The mere mention of my old man had groans erupting from the backseat like a pack of hungry zombies. Minho, bless his dramatic soul, launched straight into a full-blown tantrum.

"That malfunctioning toaster?" he roared, throwing his arms up in the air. "He'll get what's coming to him one of these days. A Minho-sized beatdown, guaranteed!"

Secretly, I wouldn't mind front-row seats for that particular show. Maybe even pay Minho a finder's fee.

"Someone please give him a good thrashing," I chimed in, picturing the smug smirk wiped clean off my dad's face. "I'd be your biggest cheerleader."

Minho just rolled his eyes and gave my seat a playful backhand whack. "Deal with your own family drama, bro. We ain't therapists here."

"Seriously though," Hyunjin piped up, his voice muffled from between the seats, "how do you even stand the guy?"

I shook my head like a dog trying to dislodge a particularly stubborn earbud. "Just gotta do it for the fam, you know? Mom and sis. Don't ask why."

Truth was, I didn't have to put up with Dad's nonsense. If things weren't so messy at home, I'd be chilling in a mountain cabin with Jiyeon, living off fresh air and stolen kisses. Now that was a life plan I could get behind. But for now, I was stuck playing mediator between my grumpy old man and the rest of my (admittedly slightly feral) family.

Seungmin's phone went dark as he slipped it back into his pocket. "Speaking of sisters," he said, a hint of curiosity lacing his voice, "how's Haze doing?"

Jeongin piped up next, his voice barely a whisper. "Yeah, I heard about the whole... thing with your dad. Hasn't come back since, right?"

Four years. Four years since the world had tilted on its axis, and my little sister, Haze, had vanished like smoke in the wind. It wasn't a topic I brought up often, the air around it was thick with a mix of grief, anger, and a gnawing sense of helplessness.

I stole a glance at Chan next to me, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tapped away on his phone. His grimace told me he was listening, even if his eyes were glued to the screen.

"Honestly," I admitted, my voice tight, "no clue. Won't talk to me or Mom."

Minho, ever the blunt one, sat up straight. "Why not?"