Chapter Text
The first voice message from Mimi arrived while Sea was still removing his makeup.
“N’Sea,” she said with the seriousness of someone discussing national security, “the cake is your responsibility now.”
Sea snorted softly, phone balanced between his shoulder and ear while the makeup artist wiped the last traces of foundation from his face.
“That sounds threatening.”
“Because it is.”
In the background he could hear chaos already unfolding at Jimmy’s parents’ house — plates clattering, someone laughing loudly, Jimmy’s father shouting something incomprehensible from another room.
Then Mimi yelled away from the phone, “Dad, stop touching the shrimp!”
A pause.
“Not you, N’Sea. You can still hear me, right?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Good. Listen carefully. Do not brake too suddenly. Don’t turn too fast. And absolutely do not place the cake on a tilted surface.”
Sea started laughing properly now, exhaustion loosening slightly from his shoulders.
“You’ve become insane.”
“I’ve become experienced,” Mimi corrected darkly. “This family has a tragic cake history.”
That, unfortunately, was true.
Three years ago, Mimi herself had dropped an entire birthday cake five steps away from the dining table after insisting she could carry it alone “like an adult.”
Two years ago, Jimmy had somehow managed to slam the car door too hard and sent a cake sliding directly into the side of its own box.
Last year had been Sea.
And honestly, Sea still maintained that one wasn’t entirely his fault.
The road had been wet.
The motorcycle had appeared suddenly.
And technically the cake had survived.
Mostly.
“Well,” Sea said while standing and stretching carefully after twelve hours of filming, “I still think last year’s cake looked salvageable.”
“You made the flowers melt.”
“They were decorative flowers.”
“You made dad almost cry.”
“Your father cries during toothpaste commercials.”
“That’s not the point.”
Sea smiled tiredly to himself while walking toward the parking lot.
Bangkok’s evening air wrapped around him immediately — humid, heavy, carrying the smell of rain lingering somewhere distant even though the sky remained dry.
Filming had gone long again.
Not unusually long.
Just emotionally draining in the particular way this project had become.
The drama was shaping into something Sea genuinely believed could be excellent, maybe one of the best things he and Jimmy had worked on in years. The script was painfully human, quiet where it needed to be, ugly in honest ways instead of dramatic ones.
And Sea had thrown himself into it completely.
Too completely, according to almost everyone around him.
His character was chronically ill. Depressed. A boy slowly losing pieces of himself while pretending he wasn’t.
The production team had wanted visible physical changes.
Sea had agreed.
At first, it had felt manageable — cleaner eating, stricter training adjustments, monitored weight reduction. But months later, standing under dressing room lights every day, Sea could see the difference himself.
His collarbones sharper.
His arms leaner.
The softness gone from his cheeks.
Even his costumes hung differently now.
The nutritionist constantly reassured him everything remained controlled and safe.
Still, sometimes he caught Jimmy staring at him quietly between takes with an expression Sea didn’t entirely know how to handle.
Not disapproval.
Worry.
The kind Jimmy tried hard not to show openly.
Sea unlocked his car with a soft sigh.
The cake sat waiting carefully packaged inside a cooling box Mimi had apparently purchased specifically because she no longer trusted any member of her family.
Another message arrived immediately.
“Also,” Mimi added, “if anything happens to the cake, don’t come inside. Just drive away and start a new life somewhere else.”
Sea sent back a picture of the intact cake beside him.
“Still alive.”
“Good. I already told mom you’re more reliable than P’Jimmy.”
“That’s dangerous information to spread.”
“She agrees.”
Sea laughed quietly and started driving.
Jimmy was still filming across the city and would come separately later. They had exchanged maybe six texts all day between scenes and costume changes.
You ate?
A little.
A little what?
Sea had ignored that question entirely.
Traffic crawled slowly through the city while the sky deepened into evening.
By the time Sea finally turned into the familiar neighborhood, his exhaustion had softened into something warmer.
He loved coming here.
Not out of obligation.
Not because Jimmy expected it.
He genuinely loved Jimmy’s family.
Loved how loud the house always became during birthdays. Loved Jimmy’s mother fussing over everyone equally. Loved his father’s terrible jokes. Loved how Mimi somehow controlled every event while pretending she wasn’t controlling anything.
The gate stood open already.
Lights glowed warmly through the windows.
And even from outside, Sea could hear multiple conversations overlapping at once.
He smiled immediately.
Then grabbed the cake with both hands like it contained a human organ.
The front door opened before he even reached it.
Mimi stood there waiting dramatically.
“You’re late.”
“I’m four minutes late.”
“You could’ve been dead.”
“You’re greeting me very emotionally today.”
“I’m greeting the cake emotionally,” she corrected while carefully inspecting the box. “Tilt it slowly.”
Sea obeyed obediently.
“You need therapy.”
“I need competent relatives.”
She took the cake with both hands like a sacred artifact and immediately disappeared toward the kitchen yelling, “Mom! The cake survived!”
A loud cheer erupted from somewhere inside the house.
Sea blinked.
“…Was everyone waiting?”
Jimmy’s father appeared from the dining room holding barbecue tongs.
“Yes.”
“You people are insane.”
“That’s true,” Jimmy’s father agreed easily before pulling Sea into a quick one-armed hug that smelled strongly of charcoal smoke and marinade. “Happy you made it.”
Warm.
Simple.
Familiar enough now that Sea hugged him back automatically.
“How’s the grilling going?”
Jimmy’s father lowered his voice immediately. “Your auntie doesn’t trust me near the expensive meat.”
From the kitchen Jimmy’s mother shouted instantly, “Because last time you burned half of it!”
“I was experimenting!”
“You almost killed your own eyebrows!”
Sea laughed under his breath while removing his shoes.
God, he loved this house.
Then he stepped fully into the living room.
And stopped.
His mother sat comfortably on the sofa wearing one of Jimmy’s mother’s cardigans like she had owned it for years.
His father and Jimmy’s father had apparently abandoned grilling entirely and now argued passionately over football while beer bottles crowded the coffee table.
Zen lounged on the floor beside them eating chips directly from a giant bowl while occasionally adding deeply unhelpful commentary.
And Jimmy’s mother sat cross-legged beside Sea’s mother with an iPad balanced between them both.
Paused on-screen: a drama scene mid-argument.
Sea stared.
His mother looked up first.
“Oh, finally.”
Not surprised.
Not formal.
Just familiar.
Sea blinked slowly. “…Mom?”
His father waved casually without even interrupting his conversation. “Sea, settle this. Your uncle thinks that referee was bribed.”
“He was bribed,” Jimmy’s father declared immediately after returning to his seat.
“He was blind, not bribed.”
“Both things can coexist.”
Sea continued staring.
Because this wasn’t just friendliness.
This was comfort.
Real comfort.
The kind that came from repeated presence.
Jimmy’s mother stood immediately and walked over to fix Sea’s shirt collar absentmindedly before he could even react.
“You’re thinner,” she murmured automatically.
But then she seemed distracted again, already turning back toward the sofa.
“Wait,” Sea interrupted weakly. “What is happening?”
Mimi emerged triumphantly from the kitchen.
“Oh my god,” she laughed immediately. “You didn’t know.”
“Know what?”
“That our parents are obsessed with each other.”
Jimmy’s mother looked offended. “Excuse me, we’re best friends.”
Sea turned slowly toward his mother.
“You’re best friends?”
“We talk,” she answered vaguely.
Zen snorted loudly. “They literally video call every night.”
“Not every night,” Sea’s mother corrected.
“Only when new episodes come out,” Jimmy’s mother clarified.
Sea looked at the paused drama again.
“…You watch dramas together?”
“Yes,” both women answered simultaneously.
Then immediately pointed accusing fingers at each other.
“Your mother spoils endings.”
“She falls asleep halfway through.”
“That’s because your taste is slow.”
“It’s called emotional storytelling.”
Sea looked helplessly toward the men instead.
Jimmy’s father grinned shamelessly. “We go to matches together.”
“With Zen,” Sea’s father added proudly.
Zen raised his hand lazily without looking away from his phone. “I’ve become their emotional support child.”
“That’s dramatic,” Sea’s father complained.
“You two own matching caps.”
“That happened accidentally.”
Mimi collapsed laughing onto the sofa.
“And dad waits for Uncle outside his office sometimes,” she added delightedly.
Sea stared at Jimmy’s father.
“You pick my dad up?”
“It’s easier parking together.”
“Last month they accidentally wore matching polo shirts,” Zen contributed.
“That happened once,” Sea’s father defended himself weakly.
“Twice,” Jimmy’s mother corrected instantly.
Sea sank slowly into a chair, still trying to process all of it.
Somewhere over the years, while he and Jimmy had been consumed by filming schedules and press tours and adult lives, their parents had apparently continued meeting each other entirely on their own.
Not because they had to.
Because they wanted to.
His mother now knew where Jimmy’s family stored extra blankets.
Jimmy’s father already poured drinks automatically for Sea’s father without asking.
Zen moved through the kitchen like he belonged there. Mimi yelled at Sea’s mother to taste the soup. The adults interrupted each other naturally, comfortably, without politeness.
It hit Sea suddenly then.
This wasn’t two families politely connected because their sons were close.
This was one large family that had formed quietly without announcement.
And somehow neither him nor Jimmy had realized how deep it had become.
The realization settled warm and strange inside his chest.
Then the living room lights brightened suddenly when Mimi adjusted them.
And everything changed.
Because now Jimmy’s mother could actually see him properly.
Her expression froze first.
Then tightened.
“Oh”
Sea recognized that tone immediately.
Danger.
His own mother looked over too.
And both women visibly stiffened.
Sea already sighed internally.
“What?” he asked carefully.
“You lost more weight.”
The warmth in the room shifted instantly into concern.
Jimmy’s mother walked closer, frowning harder the nearer she got.
“When was the last time I saw you properly?” she muttered. “Two months ago?”
“About that.”
“You were not this skinny.”
Sea opened his mouth calmly. “It’s for the drama.”
“I know it’s for the drama,” his mother answered immediately. “That doesn’t mean I like it.”
Jimmy’s mother touched his arm gently and looked genuinely upset.
There was no hiding it under bright light anymore.
The sharpness of his jaw.
The thinner wrists.
Even his neck looked more delicate somehow.
Zen frowned openly now too. “P'Sea that’s actually scary.”
“Thank you,” Sea replied dryly.
“I mean it,” Zen muttered. “Your company has millions. Use CGI. Why are they making you look genuinely ill?”
Mimi crossed her arms sharply. “P’Jimmy is absolutely failing his duties.”
Sea almost laughed. “Hia can’t stop production decisions.”
“He could try.”
“He already worries enough.”
That part slipped out more honestly than intended.
Jimmy’s mother noticed immediately.
Her expression softened for a second before concern returned full force.
Five minutes later Sea somehow found himself trapped at the dining table while everyone aggressively attempted to feed him.
“No more rice,” Sea pleaded.
“You barely ate.”
“My stomach physically shrank.”
“That sentence is horrifying.”
His mother added fish to his plate.
Jimmy’s mother added soup.
Mimi added vegetables with the focused intensity of a battlefield medic.
Zen simply watched with fascination. “This feels like watching endangered wildlife rehabilitation.”
Sea glared at him. “Help me.”
“No.”
“I raised you.”
“You damaged me.”
“You were already damaged.”
The front door opened before Sea could continue arguing.
“I’m home,” Jimmy called tiredly from the entrance.
Then silence.
Sea looked up immediately.
Jimmy stood there still half in costume from filming, exhaustion written everywhere in his posture.
And slowly, visibly, his expression shifted from tired confusion to complete disbelief.
Both sets of parents.
Zen.
Mimi.
The dramatic feeding operation happening at the dining table.
And Sea in the middle looking one spoonful away from surrender.
Jimmy blinked once.
“…what's happening here?”
Mimi burst into laughter so violently she nearly dropped the serving spoon.
“You didn’t know either!” She started laughing and then talking about their parents double life.
Jimmy looked genuinely betrayed. “Since when do our fathers go to football matches together?”
“Four years,” Zen answered calmly.
Jimmy stared at his father. “Four years?”
“You were busy.”
“That’s not the point.”
Meanwhile Jimmy’s mother continued pushing food toward Sea entirely undistracted.
“Eat another bite.”
“Mae,” Jimmy said immediately.
Not harsh.
Just enough.
He walked toward the table, still staring occasionally around the room like he genuinely couldn’t process the level of family integration currently unfolding around him.
Then he reached Sea’s side.
And immediately noticed.
Sea watched the exact moment Jimmy registered the difference under bright light after not seeing him properly for nearly two days.
Concern flickered across his face instantly.
Quiet.
Sharp.
Controlled.
But real.
Jimmy rested one hand briefly against the back of Sea’s neck, thumb brushing softly there before looking toward the mountain of food.
“How much did he already eat?”
“Not enough,” both mothers answered together.
Sea almost laughed.
Jimmy sighed softly, tired enough that his honesty slipped out immediately.
“If he eats too much suddenly he’ll throw up later.”
The table quieted slightly.
Jimmy pulled out the chair beside Sea and sat down finally, still keeping one hand lightly against Sea’s shoulder.
“He’s being monitored carefully,” he explained gently. “There’s a nutritionist with production almost every day.”
“We know,” Jimmy’s mother said quietly. “But he looks so thin.”
Jimmy looked at Sea again.
For a second his expression softened in that private way it only did around him.
“I know,” he admitted.
No denial.
No pretending.
Just honesty.
Then, calmly, he stole half the rice from Sea’s plate onto his own.
“Compromise,” he declared.
Mimi gasped in betrayal.
Zen nodded approvingly. “Smart survival strategy.”
And slowly, naturally, the room settled back into warmth and noise again — the adults talking over one another, the fathers arguing about football again, the mothers complaining about actors destroying themselves for art, Mimi defending the cake like family honor depended on it.
While Sea sat there between all of them, still quietly overwhelmed by the realization that somewhere along the years, their lives had become far more intertwined than either him or Jimmy had ever fully noticed.
Jimmy’s mother was still watching Sea eat with obvious distrust when Sea’s mother asked casually,
“So. Beach or mountains?”
Sea looked up from his soup slowly.
“…What?”
Beside him, Jimmy blinked too. “What does that mean?”
“The vacation,” Jimmy’s mother answered, like that explained everything.
A pause.
Then both of them spoke together.
“What vacation?”
Zen raised one hand lazily from the floor. “The family trip they’ve been secretly planning for months.”
Mimi’s head snapped around immediately. “Excuse me?”
“You knew?” Sea asked him.
“I know many things,” Zen replied solemnly. “Most against my will.”
Jimmy stared slowly around the room now.
“You’re all planning a vacation together?”
“You two are impossible to schedule,” Sea’s mother replied. “If we waited for you, nobody would ever leave Bangkok.”
Jimmy leaned back slightly in his chair, still looking faintly stunned.
And Sea suddenly noticed the small things all at once.
Jimmy’s father refilling Sea’s father’s beer automatically without asking.
Sea’s father sliding the grilled shrimp closer because he already knew which pieces Jimmy’s father liked best.
His mother sitting comfortably in one of Jimmy’s mother’s cardigans.
Zen walking into the kitchen without permission to steal ice.
Nobody moved like guests anymore.
Jimmy’s thumb kept moving slowly against Sea’s knuckles beneath the table.
Small movements.
Absentminded.
The kind he only did when he was tired enough to stop monitoring himself completely.
Around them, the house remained alive with noise.
Nana, who arrived just after Jimmy, and Mimi were now arguing over candle placement because apparently symmetry mattered deeply to both of them. Zen had stolen another piece of pork and was currently denying it despite still holding the evidence in his hand. Their fathers had somehow returned to discussing football with the intensity of political analysts.
And their mothers—
Their mothers had moved onto discussing actors.
Specifically them.
Sea could hear enough fragments to know he should probably be concerned.
“—sleep schedules—”
“—too much pressure—”
“—Jimmy looked tired too—”
“—Sea was thinner in that interview—”
Jimmy sighed softly through his nose.
Sea glanced sideways immediately. “What?”
Jimmy stayed quiet for a second.
Then another.
When he finally spoke, his voice came lower than before, roughened slightly by exhaustion.
“I hate this drama.”
Sea blinked.
Jimmy almost never said things like that out loud.
Not about work.
Not about projects.
Not about acting.
Sea turned toward him properly now.
“Hia—”
“I mean it.” Jimmy looked down briefly at their joined hands before lifting his eyes again. “I’ve never hated a project before. Even bad ones. Even exhausting ones.” He exhaled quietly. “But this one…”
His jaw tightened faintly.
Sea suddenly understood this wasn’t really about schedules or filming anymore.
It was accumulation.
Months of watching Sea disappear little by little.
The weight loss.
The emotional exhaustion.
The way Sea had started sleeping more but resting less.
The quietness that lingered after difficult scenes.
Jimmy rubbed his thumb once over Sea’s hand.
“I know you wanted to do this role properly,” he said carefully. “I know you’re proud of it. And I think it’s going to be good.” His expression shifted, something frustrated and helpless flickering underneath. “But I’m still happy it’s ending.”
Sea’s chest tightened unexpectedly.
Because Jimmy wasn’t criticizing him.
Wasn’t telling him he had done something wrong.
He just sounded… tired of watching Sea hurt for art.
Sea tried to smile lightly anyway.
“What?” he teased softly. “I’m not attractive anymore now that I look like a haunted Victorian orphan?”
Jimmy looked genuinely offended.
Sea barely had time to process the expression before Jimmy leaned forward and kissed him.
Directly.
Right there at the dining table.
Not long.
Not dramatic.
But real enough that Sea froze completely.
Jimmy’s hand slid briefly against the side of his face while he kissed him once, firm and warm and utterly unconcerned about the fact that half their family sat twenty feet away.
Sea pulled back immediately afterward, ears burning.
“Hia,” he hissed under his breath, horrified. “People are here.”
Jimmy didn’t move away.
“Good,” he answered calmly.
Sea stared at him in betrayal while Jimmy continued looking at him like nothing unusual had happened.
Then Jimmy frowned slightly.
“And don’t say stupid things.”
Sea blinked. “What stupid things?”
“That.” Jimmy gestured vaguely at him. “Asking if you’re attractive.”
Sea opened his mouth defensively. “I was joking.”
“I know.” Jimmy’s expression softened immediately, but there was still something deeply serious underneath it. “But don’t ask me things you already know the answer to.”
Sea’s face grew warmer.
Jimmy leaned back slightly in his chair now, still close enough that their knees touched.
“You’re attractive when you wake up looking half dead because you slept three hours.” His voice remained quiet, intimate despite the chaos surrounding them. “You’re attractive when you’re annoying. When you steal my clothes. When you cry during documentaries about animals.” A pause. “You’re attractive now too. I just don’t like seeing you exhausted.”
Sea swallowed.
Jimmy rarely spoke this openly.
Not because he lacked affection.
But because Jimmy loved through consistency more than speeches. Through routine. Through showing up. Through remembering details nobody else noticed.
So when he verbalized things directly, Sea always felt them harder than expected.
Sea looked down briefly at their hands.
Then murmured, half embarrassed, “You’re very intense today.”
Jimmy answered immediately.
“You scared me today.”
That erased the teasing from Sea’s face entirely.
Jimmy’s eyes dropped to Sea’s wrist resting against the table.
Too thin.
Too sharp beneath his fingers.
“I knew you lost weight,” Jimmy admitted quietly. “I see you every day. But…” He glanced toward the bright living room lights. “Seeing you like this tonight was different somehow.”
Sea didn’t know what to say to that.
Because part of him understood.
Filming sets distorted reality. Costumes, cameras, scenes, makeup — everything became part of the role eventually.
But here, surrounded by family and normal life and warm lights and food and laughter, his body suddenly looked out of place.
Too fragile for the setting around it.
Jimmy squeezed his hand once more.
“I’m happy the drama’s almost finished,” he said again, softer now. “I miss you.”
Sea’s throat tightened embarrassingly fast.
“You see me every day.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
No.
It wasn’t.
Sea knew exactly what he meant.
The version of him that existed lately often remained half trapped inside the role even after cameras stopped rolling. Quieter. More withdrawn. More exhausted mentally than physically.
Jimmy had been patient through all of it.
But Sea suddenly realized how long Jimmy had probably been waiting for him to come back fully.
The realization made something ache warmly inside his chest.
Around them, the noise of the house continued uninterrupted.
Their mothers had now moved on to criticizing hairstyles in dramas. Nana was threatening violence because Zen kept stealing fruit before she finished plating it properly. Jimmy’s father loudly insisted birthdays were supposed to be relaxing while actively causing seventy percent of the chaos in the house himself.
Sea looked at all of them again.
Then back at Jimmy.
“They think we’re permanent,” he whispered softly.
Jimmy’s expression changed instantly.
Not dramatic.
But immediate.
His brows pulled together slightly.
“Think?” he repeated.
Sea blinked, surprised by the tone. “Huh?”
Jimmy turned fully toward him now.
“Why did you say it like that?”
Sea stared at him. “Like what?”
“Like it’s hypothetical.”
Sea opened his mouth, confused already. “That’s not what I meant—”
“You said they think we’re permanent.” Jimmy’s voice stayed calm, but there was something deeply firm underneath now. “As if maybe we aren’t.”
Sea froze.
And then, slowly, understanding hit him.
Jimmy looked genuinely bothered.
Not angry.
Not upset in a dramatic way.
But honestly offended by the implication.
“Hia,” Sea said softly, almost laughing from surprise. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Jimmy held his gaze steadily.
“Then how did you mean it?”
Sea looked at him helplessly.
“I mean…” He searched carefully for the right words this time. “I didn’t realize everyone already saw us as…” He motioned vaguely between them. “Married, basically.”
Jimmy’s expression softened only slightly.
Sea suddenly felt shy again under the intensity of his attention.
Because Jimmy was looking at him very seriously now.
Like this mattered.
Like Sea’s wording mattered.
“We are married basically,” he said simply.
Sea let out a startled laugh under his breath. “Hia.”
“What?”
“You can’t say things like that so casually.”
Jimmy looked genuinely confused. “Why not?”
Sea stared at him.
Jimmy stared back with complete calm.
Like this wasn’t terrifyingly intimate.
Like saying our families already see us as husbands was the most obvious conclusion possible.
And maybe for Jimmy, it was.
“There’s no version of my future where you disappear from it,” Jimmy continued, voice low and certain in a way that made Sea’s chest ache immediately. “No version where our families stop being family. No version where this becomes temporary.”
Sea swallowed hard.
Jimmy almost never talked like this.
Not because he lacked certainty.
Because to Jimmy, certainty usually didn’t need announcing.
He simply lived it.
Every day.
In every decision.
But now, sitting in the middle of their families, surrounded by proof of how deeply their lives had already intertwined, Jimmy looked at him like he needed Sea to understand something clearly.
“There’s nothing hypothetical about us,” Jimmy said softly.
Sea felt suddenly overwhelmed by how loved he was.
Not in a dramatic, consuming way.
In a steady way.
A terrifyingly stable way.
Like Jimmy had built him into the structure of his life so completely that removing him was no longer conceivable.
Sea laughed quietly under his breath, mostly because his emotions felt dangerously close to showing on his face.
“You’re making me emotional at your father’s birthday.”
“That sounds like your problem.”
Sea smiled helplessly.
Then Jimmy leaned closer again, forehead brushing briefly against Sea’s temple in a touch so soft it almost hurt.
And Sea realized with startling clarity that this was what had happened.
Not suddenly.
Not through one grand moment.
Years of dinners.
Years of showing up together.
Years of parents exchanging numbers and checking on each other and slowly deciding, without discussion, that these people belonged in their lives permanently too.
Their relationship had grown roots everywhere.
Into kitchens.
Into family group chats.
Into football matches and drama nights and birthday dinners.
Into cardigans borrowed casually and fathers waiting outside offices and siblings moving through each other’s homes without knocking.
Sea suddenly understood why seeing all of this felt so overwhelming.
Because it made the future feel real in a way he hadn’t expected.
Solid.
Already quietly built around them.
Before he could say any of that aloud, Mimi suddenly clapped her hands loudly from the kitchen.
“Cake time!”
Immediate chaos erupted.
Jimmy’s father complained that nobody appreciated him enough on his birthday. Nana started ordering people around with military authority. Zen tried stealing frosting before the cake even reached the table and nearly lost a hand for it.
Mimi emerged carrying the cake like a ceremonial object.
Sea immediately sat straighter.
“The cake survived,” Mimi announced proudly. “For the first time in three years.”
Everyone applauded sarcastically.
Jimmy leaned toward Sea and murmured, “Let's not celebrate too early.”
Sea snorted.
Candles were placed carefully.
The family gathered around the table.
Jimmy’s father immediately started pretending he was turning eighty instead of fifty-something just for attention.
“You should all appreciate me more while I’m still young.”
“You made a sound getting off the sofa earlier,” Jimmy’s mother replied instantly.
“That was my knee adjusting.”
“It sounded like furniture breaking.”
Sea laughed so hard he nearly leaned into Jimmy entirely.
Then everything happened at once.
Jimmy’s father stepped backward dramatically while still arguing.
His heel caught the table leg.
The table jerked violently.
The cake slid.
Mimi screamed instantly.
“NO—”
Time seemed to slow.
The cake tilted dangerously sideways, candles wobbling.
And then Zen, possessed by either bravery or complete stupidity, launched himself across the room.
“I GOT IT—”
He did not get it.
What Zen actually accomplished was catching the bottom edge of the cake just enough to redirect its trajectory directly upward.
Straight onto himself.
The entire cake flipped magnificently before collapsing over Zen’s head with catastrophic precision.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Frosting dripped slowly down his face.
One candle remained somehow still lit beside his ear.
Zen sat frozen on the floor covered entirely in cream and strawberries.
Mimi looked like she might genuinely pass out.
Jimmy stared.
Nana slowly covered her face with both hands.
And Sea—
Sea broke first.
A horrible sound escaped him before he dissolved into helpless laughter so violent he nearly folded over the table.
Beside him, Jimmy completely lost composure too, dropping forward against Sea’s shoulder laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe properly anymore.
Then the entire room exploded.
Jimmy’s father nearly collapsed from laughing while still trying to apologize. Their mothers yelled and laughed simultaneously. Mimi shouted that this family was cursed. Nana kept repeating, “I told everyone not to move,” like a deeply exhausted military commander.
And Zen—
Zen slowly removed a strawberry from his shoulder and said with deep betrayal:
“I tried to save it.”
That finished Sea completely.
He laughed until tears blurred his vision.
Until his chest hurt.
Until Jimmy was clutching his arm because he was laughing just as hard beside him.
And somewhere in the middle of the chaos — the ruined cake, the screaming, the frosting-covered sibling on the floor, their parents nearly crying from laughter — Sea suddenly understood why this all felt so important.
Because this wasn’t just Jimmy anymore.
Wasn’t just love in private spaces.
It was this.
All of this.
The noise.
The mess.
The certainty.
The way everyone here already moved around them like they belonged together permanently.
Like it had been decided long ago.
Jimmy’s hand found his again beneath the table, squeezing once warmly while Zen continued sitting on the floor covered in frosting like a war casualty.
And Sea looked around the room — at Jimmy beside him, at their families overlapping into one loud impossible thing — and thought helplessly:
Ah.
So this is what home is supposed to feel like.