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Yabu woke up in his own bedroom, in his own bed, like normal. It wouldn't have been anything worth considering ordinarily, but it was today because he woke up to the sound of a loud clatter and an indiscriminate thump. Which was concerning, because he lived alone. It took him a few moments to process all of that, lying in his bed and listening as the noise cut out. He felt anxiety slowly creep in, and he sat up, various scenarios making him feel more and more tense as they built up in his mind. Maybe it was a ghost. Maybe it was an animal. Maybe a crazy person had broken in. Maybe it was a burglar. Maybe it was an assassin out to kill him.
He sat up, checking his phone to see if there was some explanation to be found there, some alert or text he’d forgotten about or perhaps slept through. Nothing. He checked the time. It was barely past six in the morning, too damn early for him to have scheduled anything, which meant that whatever made that noise, it wasn’t something he’d had any part in. Shit. He got out of bed, eyes frantically scanning his messy bedroom, looking for something to defend himself with, his heart pounding in his ears. He didn’t have much, and after a few moments he settled on the lamp from his bedside table, picking it up and going to the door.
He didn’t quite make it, the lamp’s cord drawing taught and refusing to cooperate, and he realized that in his anxiety he’d forgotten to unplug it from the wall. Oops. He cursed quietly to himself, clenching his teeth in anxiety as he went back to unplug it from the wall. So far his stealth mission wasn’t going very stealthily. Properly armed, he opened his door and crept out into the hallway, his socked feet quiet on the cold wooden floor. Once out of his room he could hear more, small sounds of movement that he hadn’t heard through his closed door, and it made him freeze up for a moment, panicking slightly.
Something was there. Something had broken into his home. His first instinct was to call Hikaru, or maybe his mother, but he swallowed, raising the lamp up, poised and tense, ready to strike, as he neared the hallway entrance, and peered around the corner. It was a hoard of people, men all over his living room, spilling out of his kitchen and sitting on his couch, all of them busy, moving with purpose, and it was amazing just how silent they’d managed to be, he realized, with so many of them all coordinating in such a small space. But what the hell were his groupmates doing in his apartment?
He felt himself relaxing, relieved, the lamp being lowered to his shoulder, and he took deep breaths, trying to calm his heart, and he was about to step out and ask what the fuck was going on when Daiki and Hikaru stood up from where they’d been sitting hunched over his dining room table and Daiki turned to the couch, asking in a hushed voice
“Where do you think the banner should go, Chinen?” There was a little mop of black hair barely visible over the back of the couch, and all that came from it was a noncommittal grunt, Yabu smiling despite his confusion. Poor Chinen had to be half asleep; he was not an early riser. It was then that Yamada emerged from the kitchen, carrying a large cake in his hands and murmuring
“Put it on that wall, Dai-chan. And be quiet, this is supposed to be a surprise!” Daiki nodded, looking amused at Yamada’s declaration about being quiet, before grabbing a huge piece of paper from the dining table and walking over to the wall opposite of where Yabu was standing, Keito emerging into Yabu’s line of sight with a roll of tape, and together they began to hang the banner up. It was an immensely large thing, and it had little drawings, done obviously by Hikaru, of cakes and Yabunbun wearing a party hat, framing the words 'Happy Birthday, Yabu!'
He retreated back to his bedroom, checking his phone again for the date as he did so, to make sure he hadn’t forgotten. It wasn’t his birthday yet, was it? The calendar on his phone told him that he was the one in the wrong, the little screen informing him that it was indeed January thirty-first, and he blinked down at it in surprise. He usually was good at remembering things like this. He’d become twenty-seven without even realizing it. And his bandmates, meanwhile, had all taken off work and woken up early to set up a surprise birthday for him. The thoughtfulness was overwhelming, and he wanted to go out and tell them all how much he loved them, but he stayed put.
He didn’t want them to know they’d woken him up. He could wait, and pretend to be surprised once they were ready. Then he could be cheesy, and tell them how much he appreciated them, and tell them how amazing they all were, and enjoy the party they’d put together for him. He crawled back into bed, a smile on his face. This was already the best birthday ever.