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Kai wakes up early. He normally is the first to rise, but today he has set his alarm an hour earlier. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes as he brushes his teeth; Manager Sejin is nice, but he’s a stickler for punctuality. Just for today, Kai is one too.
Kai closes their bedroom door quietly. Not for the first time, he’s glad that the rest of the members are heavier sleepers.
“Ready, kiddo?” Sejin greets at the door, and Kai smiles gratefully at him.
“Thank you again, Sejin-ssi.”
“Of course. It’s a special day.” Kai shivers a little when he steps outside, even though he doesn’t feel the cold, not really. This isn’t a big deal, but his heart is racing anyway. He wonders if Sejin can tell. Even if he’s noticed anything through the years, he’s never done anything other than give Kai plenty of meaningful looks, which he steadfastly ignores.
The car is cozy, bordering on too-warm with his padded jacket. Sejin asks him about how their practices are going for their upcoming promotion in Japan and Kai answers truthfully—good for the most part, but they’re all bone-tired by the end of the day between that, their current ongoing schedules, and award show rehearsals. Soobin more than any of them on Fridays when he has to wake up early for Music Bank.
“Take breaks when you need them,” Sejin advises, and Kai nods and smiles politely even though there’s simply no time to take breaks, at least not significant ones.
When Sejin pulls into the parking lot, an attendant is already waiting to drop off their order. There’s a part of Kai that wishes he was able to go inside and order at the counter like he had—they had—in the past, but it’s simpler this way. Safer.
“Everything there?” Sejin asks as he passes the familiar brown paper bag to him. Kai scans the receipt on the front.
“Yes, thank you.” Sejin lets the attendant go with a wave. Kai discreetly inhales. It smells like butter and grease. It also smells like shared mornings and exhaustion and the slightest hint of salt on Soobin’s fingers when he used to feed Kai bites of his muffin, piece by piece.
Sejin drops him off with a hair ruffle and a “I’m proud of you, kid.” Kai almost wants to ask why, but the mysterious smile on Sejin’s face clues him in that maybe he doesn’t really want to hear the answer. He smiles and waves their manager goodbye instead, carefully locking the door behind him and placing the bag down in the living room table.
He grabs a coke from the fridge for himself and sparkling water for Soobin, lips curving at the familiar label. Soobin is picking up his habit again after almost a year.
The door to their room is predictably unlocked after Beomgyu so boldly promised that Soobin could sleep in their room last night. Kai slips in quietly, and though he’s a little taken aback by how beautiful Soobin looks even when he’s asleep, he doesn’t stare. Because that would be weird, and if Beomgyu catches him he’ll never hear the end of it.
Instead, he fiddles with the blinds, angling them this way and that until he slants the sunlight perfectly over Soobin’s face. Immediately Soobin’s brows furrow, and Kai has to hold back giggles as he continues shifting the blinds until Soobin finally opens his eyes in irritation.
“Kai-yah,” he says, voice deep from sleep, swatting halfheartedly in his direction with a fuzzy sleeve. He’s wearing the cute bunny pajamas Kai bought him. “Stop that.”
“Come have breakfast with me.”
Soobin squints as he reaches under his pillow for his phone. “What time is it?”
“Early,” Kai says, then holds his hand out. “It’s just me.” And if he feels the tiniest bit elated when Soobin takes his hand without question, he keeps that to himself. “Are you going to brush your teeth first?”
“The food will taste bad if I do,” Soobin points out as Kai scrunches his face in disgust. “What’d you get?”
“Same old.” Kai is very acutely aware that Soobin doesn’t let go of his hand, instead, choosing to intertwine their fingers. It feels nice. The size difference isn’t as noticeable now. When Soobin skims his thumb over his knuckles, Kai almost trips on his way out of their room.
Soobin doesn’t tease him, and Kai is almost afraid to turn back to look. What does Soobin’s face look like? He equally wants to let go of Soobin’s hand and hold on tighter at the same time, but leave it to him to fall somewhere in the middle, in limbo. Their hands brush up against each other even after Kai loosens his grip to gesture to the bag on the table.
“Same old,” Soobin echos before pulling Kai down next to him at the table. His gaze settles heavily on the paper receipt on the outside. There wasn't time last year in Japan. There’d been MAMA, there’d been Soobin’s birthday VLIVE, there’d been wishes to see the fireworks during the new year, and even though Kai thought about it, there had also been no time. There never really is, anymore.
Soobin knows better than anyone that Kai has always been a fan of tradition.
Kai wordlessly unpacks their breakfast. There’s not much; they still should watch their weight after all—but it’s all familiar. The menu hasn’t changed at all in the past four years. There’s pancakes and eggs—always eggs, because Kai had always insisted—and hashbrowns.
And there’s the blueberry muffin that Kai is uncertain whether or not Soobin had grown out of.
These are memories only they share, a modest happiness that Kai keeps squirreled away because it feels like the more he takes them out, the more he reflects on them, the more they also slip through his fingers. Because Soobin… Soobin is…
Soobin is holding his hand again, tugging on his wrist until Kai is forced to face him.
“I’m glad we made it together,” Soobin says, and that’s all it takes for Kai’s smile to become wobbly, but tears don’t spring to his eyes as easily as they used to. A year of forcing them down did that. A year of becoming strong enough to stand by Soobin’s side did that.
Kai nods. Soobin has always been like this, has always known that there are things Kai would never say out loud, so he says them for him and Kai pretends to be exasperated instead of fiercely grateful.
“Don’t be sappy,” Kai says teasingly, tugging the hood of Soobin’s bunny pajamas over his head.
“How can I not? I think this,” Soobin juts his chin towards the McDonald’s breakfast spread, “will always be a reminder to me of how far we’ve come. Together.”
Kai tugs the hood until it covers Soobin’s eyes, then he drops kisses over his head, like in last night’s VLIVE. This has gotten easier, at least. As long as Soobin doesn’t look at him.
“Shut up,” he says, but affection laces his words, makes them airy and light and a little breathless.
“You’re missing,” Soobin says, and before Kai can even figure out the meaning behind his words, Soobin is already surging up against him, lips soft against his own. Kai might have squeaked, if the sudden curve of Soobin’s lip is anything to go by.
The kiss is just long enough to be purposeful, but Soobin doesn’t press, Soobin doesn’t take it further. Kai wonders if it’s normal to feel so desperately hungry but sated at the same time, so full that he’s almost brimming over.
“Should have brushed my teeth,” Soobin remarks after he pulls away, digging into the food without preamble. Kai dares to look now, and Soobin returns his gaze with fondness and something he doesn’t want to name yet. “Are we sharing the muffin?”
Kai makes a strangled sort of noise. His cheeks are burning. He has to get this out though, or he never will.
“I’m glad it was you,” he confesses. And Soobin gives him this look, like he’s always been able to see right through him.
“I know,” he says simply, and his eyes are shining a little.
Kai tucks himself against Soobin’s neck, lets himself take one, shuddering breath against his warmth, and then rights himself again.
“I can’t believe you’re crying over McDonald’s breakfast.”
Soobin rolls his eyes. “Just eat.”
And they do, and it’s another stolen moment, another shared morning. More importantly, there will be more mornings after this, more mornings together. For now, Kai is more than content.