"mr qian, if you don't mind me saying—"



"kun."



johnny looks up from his gogo squeez. mr qian meets his eyes, a small smile playing around his lips. "my name is kun."



"kun." johnny's brain short circuits as it attempts to run through every possible combination of their names.

"uh, kun. if you don't mind me saying, i think you're doing a fine job of making friends. to me, anyways. and... for what it's worth, you're raising some really great kids."



kun sighs. "i hope so."



"are you kidding?!" johnny exclaims. "you're, like, super dad!"

those accursed, perfect eyebrows—johnny's newfound archnemeses—raise. "super dad?"



"yeah!" johnny splutters. "you brought a whole cooler of healthy snacks! you're so put together! your kids have lace-up shoes instead of velcro! you're all i've ever wanted! y'know, to, like, be!"