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“...Happy birthday dear Hoseok, happy birthday to you~!” Everyone in the office cheers and claps once the song is over, and Hoseok grins bashfully from their attention.
“Candles are at your twelve o’clock, don’t forget to make a wish!” Namjoon tells him excitedly.
Just like he’s been told, Hoseok angles his face towards the birthday candles and blows. He doesn’t make a wish, because that’s just a myth created to make the tradition more fun for children. Even if he believed in it, he doesn’t know what he would wish for. The temperature of the air decreases minutely when the flames sputter out, and the dying embers on the candle wicks crackle so quietly that it would be inaudible to a normal person.
Still, for show, he asks, “Did I get them all?”
“Yep, on the first try!” Namjoon confirms.
The sound of rustling fabric brushes past him as Jin, the law firm’s secretary-turned-close-friend of Namjoon and Hoseok, picks up the cake and takes it to the small kitchenette. “Does everybody want a piece?” he asks, followed by the sounds of a drawer opening and the shuffling around of plastic utensils.
The birthday cake was described to him as round and medium-sized, with pinkish-red frosting around the edges and multi-colored flowers with smiley faces inside the center. He can smell the wax of seven candles on the cake, although Jin admitted that he initially tried to fit all thirty before Namjoon stopped him. Something about a fire hazard and the smoke alarm in the office being broken.
“I’ll help serve,” Yoongi offers. He places a loving kiss atop Hoseok’s head that leaves his scalp tingling with warmth, then goes over to Jin who hands over paper plates to separate.
Tonight was a day off for the E.R. nurse, one he specially requested even though Hoseok told him that it wasn’t necessary. In fact, Hoseok hadn’t wanted to celebrate his birthday at all. But after Namjoon had casually let it slip to Jin this past Monday morning that his birthday was coming up, their secretary had been beside himself insisting that they needed to have a party. Thirty years old was a big milestone, after all. For Hoseok, it was in more ways than one.
Reason number one: thirty was the age his dad had been when he was killed. He had been a boxer, and not a very successful one at that. He also wasn’t a good student, never went to college, and didn’t get married to Hoseok’s mom before they had a child together. Nonetheless, he’d been Hoseok’s hero. It was only after he lost his sight that he found out his dad, the legendary Battlin’ Jaewook Jung of Hell’s Kitchen, was being paid extra to lose boxing matches intentionally so that he could afford to feed his son and keep the lights on in their shabby apartment.
They never had enough money to throw lavish birthday parties for Hoseok in his childhood. That wasn’t a problem, though, because he didn’t have many friends to celebrate with in the first place. He’d been perfectly content with just getting ice cream from the food truck at Hudson River Park with his dad every year.
Hoseok never revealed that he found out about the betting, but his dad must have known somehow. Maybe nine-year-old Hoseok wasn’t as good at his poker face as he thought, or maybe he made a passing comment about how “Jungs always get up” that tipped his dad off. Regardless, Jaewook was scheduled to fight with a well-known New York boxer, who went by the name Crusher Creel, and he reluctantly agreed to take a dive in the fifth and lose the match. But the night of, something must have happened. Like it was only yesterday, Hoseok still remembers sitting on his couch, listening to the commentator give a play-by-play of his dad making a sudden recovery and going in on Creel. He’d won that match, and he’d paid for the victory with his life.
For ten years afterward, Hoseok celebrated his birthdays in a Catholic orphanage with Sister Maggie and a vanilla cupcake, topped with a single candle.
Reason number two: Hoseok will never admit this to anyone, but he didn't expect to live this long. Nothing in his life ever lasted, not his sight, not his childhood innocence, not his parents, and not Stick, so why would he? He was constantly being reminded that everyone and everything around him was ultimately finite, that happiness was fleeting. His existence seemed pretty bleak up until he met Namjoon in law school. Everything changed, then. Suddenly, he had a purpose, and people who cared about him.
Oftentimes, he wonders when that will end, too. When someone will pull the rug out from under him and take the life he fought so hard to build for himself.
The papery crinkle of a plate brings Hoseok back. Jin taps his shoulder lightly in a pattern unique to him to announce his presence. Jin then guides Hoseok’s hand to wrap around a plastic fork. He smells like mint cologne and the everything bagel he ate for breakfast. “The cake is three feet in front of you. I gave you a piece with a smiling, rainbow flower on top.”
Processed food is one of the pleasures in life that Hoseok cannot enjoy. His senses are too keen to properly indulge. Behind the chocolate and buttercream frosting, he can feel the individual grains of added sugar sticking to his teeth and taste the artificial food dyes from the frosting, the rubber spatula used to stir the batter, and the faintest hint of peanuts from the baker’s fingers — they baked peanut butter cookies before the cake, and dipped their finger into the cake mix to try it before baking it. He can smell the gasoline that seeped into the delicate sponge during the drive from the bakery to the law firm office, and the onion from the bagels that had been next to it in a completely separate bag while in the backseat of Jin’s car. Still, he takes a big bite of the dessert and hums his approval as he chews mechanically.
The happy skip of Jin’s heartbeat at his reaction makes it all worth it. “Thank you, Jin,” he replies. Jin squeezes his shoulder comfortingly then walks away to distribute more cake.
They can both tell that he’s thankful for more than just a slice of cake. Yesterday Jin had brought up the party, tenuously explaining that they didn’t have to celebrate if it made Hoseok uncomfortable. It was a sudden shift from his enthusiasm about the event earlier in the week, but not unexpected. Hoseok heard Namjoon whispering to him about the situation with his dad and why it was a sensitive birthday a few days ago. It was a kind gesture, but Hoseok hated disappointing others, and so told him to go ahead with the plans.
It could hardly be called a party. From what Namjoon told him, there are rainbow streamers from Party City taped to the ceiling of the waiting room in their humble office. A paper, reflective, multi-colored sign that reads HAPPY BIRTHDAY hangs in the doorway to the conference room. The only guests are himself, Namjoon, Jin, Yoongi, and the most recent addition to their odd group of friends, Jungkook. There is no music or specially catered food, just intentionally bad singing and a cake from ShopRite.
It’s perfect.
“Here’s a piece for you, Yoongi, and here’s two pieces of cake for Kookie and his bottomless pit of a stomach,” Jin teases lightheartedly, handing both men their individual plates.
Jungkook’s heart rate speeds up and his body temperature increases at the joke. Hoseok guesses he is blushing as he accepts the plate of cake with a sheepish “Thanks, Jin.”
Nobody besides himself is privy to Jungkook’s secret vigilante identity, although he’s sure Yoongi has his suspicions. As far as the others know, Jungkook is just a young guy trying to navigate life in the city whom Hoseok took under his wing. He may eat more than the average person, and sometimes shows up to the office looking worse for wear, but Hoseok is excellent at coming up with excuses. He is a lawyer, after all. Any time someone questions Jungkook’s strange mannerisms, he explains it away as Jungkook having a fast metabolism and chronic clumsiness.
The first part isn’t even a lie. Jungkook’s set of abilities includes rapid regeneration, and to keep it up his body burns calories at a significantly faster rate than regular people. Hoseok envies that ability in particular, especially when he himself has to go to court the morning after a night of vigilante-ing with a fractured rib.
Jin gives Namjoon a slice of cake next, and their fingers brush as his hand lingers on the paper plate. Hoseok tilts his head curiously in their direction at the sound of both their heart rates speeding up before Jin abruptly turns away to get his own slice. The smell of tangerines and hospital antiseptic that never seems to fade no matter how many times he showers precedes Yoongi’s approach. He sits in the chair to Hoseok’s left, belonging to the front desk which they have turned into a makeshift dining table for the night.
“Hear anything interesting there, Batman?” Yoongi mutters. He pops a forkful of cake into his mouth, reminding Hoseok that he should keep eating as well if he doesn’t want to be too obvious.
“Are you calling me that because I’m blind or because of the other thing?” he asks, then takes a bite of his own cake, swallowing down the urge to tell Yoongi for the umpteenth time that bats actually have very good eyesight.
Yoongi laughs fondly, a raspy sound from his chest that Hoseok never tires of. “A little bit of both.”
“What’s going on between Namjoon and Jin?” Hoseok waves his fork vaguely in their direction.
Calloused fingers settle on the nape of his neck and idly play with the hairs there. Yoongi hums in thought. “I’m surprised you can’t pick it up somehow with your know-all-senses. They’ve totally got a thing for each other, have for a while if I had to guess.”
“I have good hearing, I’m not omniscient. Why don’t they just get together?” Hoseok comments.
The air currents shift around Yoongi’s shoulders as he shrugs. “They probably don’t wanna make it weird in the office. Maybe they feel like they’d be betraying you or something silly like that.”
There is a moment of contemplative silence between the two. Is he really the reason Namjoon and Jin are denying their feelings for each other? He would’ve thought Namjoon of all people would tell him about something as important as having feelings for their only other coworker. Then again, he still hasn’t gotten around to telling Namjoon about his own secret. Maybe he should bring it up and tell them that he doesn’t want them to be uncomfortable around him. He never hides his affection for Yoongi when they’re all together. So they shouldn’t have to, either.
Jungkook breaks the silence by plopping down in the seat on Hoseok’s other side. He’s almost done with his cake, Hoseok can tell because the smell of artificial sugar on his plate is significantly less than the others. He is mid-chew when he sits down, and swallows before asking curiously, “Are you guys talking about Jin and Joon’s school boy crushes?”
They both burst into laughter. The taste of salt fills the air as a few tears escape from Yoongi’s eyes, and his body heat gets closer as he leans across the table to give Jungkook a high five.
Later that night, while Hoseok and Yoongi are preparing for bed, a question niggles in the back of Hoseok’s mind. It’s been there for the past few days now, but he hasn’t voiced it to anyone yet. He leans against the doorway of the single bathroom in the loft apartment while Yoongi brushes his teeth.
It’s February, so it’s still pretty cold outside. But tonight he feels warm, so he elected to just wear his pajama bottoms and not his shirt. Yoongi says these ones are dark blue with drawings of Snoopy on them. He can kind of visualize it because he vaguely remembers reading the Peanuts newspaper comic strips when he was young. Snoopy was his favorite character.
Yoongi spits out toothpaste and rinses his mouth. The spearmint flavor of it burns Hoseok’s nostrils even from a distance.
“Something on your mind?” Yoongi calls, startling Hoseok out of his thoughts. From the way his voice bounces off the mirror, he is probably looking at Hoseok through the reflection.
One thing about Yoongi that never ceases to amaze him is that the man can always tell when he needs to talk. Hoseok has super senses; he can tell a lot about someone based on their body temperature, heartbeat, and the subtlest of movements. But Yoongi has none of that and still somehow knows when he’s holding something in.
Hoseok sighs. “What do I look like?” He asks hesitantly.
“What?” Yoongi replies in confusion, turning to face Hoseok.
“I’ve just been thinking about it lately. The last time I saw myself was when I was nine, and I’m not a kid anymore. People always tell me what they look like or what my surroundings look like, but never anything about me. So I’m curious.”
It’s true. Even with his enhanced senses, Hoseok is still blind. At most he can form an impressionistic painting of his surroundings using all of the input he can gather. But he never got to see himself grow into his features. He never got to see what he looks like when he first started developing facial hair, or what his smile looked like after getting his braces off. He doesn’t know if he looks more like his dad or his mom (not that he even remembers what his mom looks like, she left when he was only a year old), or if he looks better with his bangs parted to reveal his forehead. In his mind, the only mental image that he has of himself is as a child.
Yoongi takes his hand and leads him to their shared bedroom. Gently, they sit on the bed together with Hoseok’s back against the wall and Yoongi sitting in the space between his legs. The bedsheets are silk; they are a rare indulgence he allows himself since cotton feels like sandpaper on his skin. Yoongi drags his fingers through Hoseok’s hair, from the nape of his neck to the top of his forehead. It’s still slightly damp from the shower.
When Yoongi speaks, his voice is soft but sure. “You have dark brown hair that curls around your ears when it's wet. Sunlight bounces off of it when you walk outside, and when it hits the strands just right your hair looks auburn.” His touch moves down to Hoseok’s cheeks and chin. “You have high cheekbones, and from a frontal view you have an oval-shaped face. But from the side, you have a very angular jaw. It’s sharp, like sculpted marble.
“Your mouth is shaped like a rounded-out heart, especially when you smile with your teeth showing.” He leans in to place feather-soft kisses on Hoseok’s cupid’s bow, then his nose, then his lips.
Every touch on his face leaves his skin buzzing in pleasure. Most of the time, Hoseok has so much stimuli begging for his attention. It took him years of practice to hone his senses enough to just be able to function coherently on a daily basis. But right now, all of his senses are zeroed in on his boyfriend. Every touch, smell, sound, and taste is like a mantra of Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi. His deep, slightly raspy voice settles into Hoseok’s bones, his fresh pine scent from his body wash soothes Hoseok’s nose, and his steady heartbeat lulls Hoseok’s cacophonous thoughts into a distant whisper. Finally, Yoongi’s fingertips graze his eyelids as his eyes fall shut.
Very few people have ever seen Hoseok without his red-framed sunglasses. Since he is unable to meet anyone’s eyes perfectly, people can’t help but stare at his unseeing gaze. It’s an intimate and personal experience when he removes his glasses in front of someone for the first time. When he was in law school rooming with Namjoon, it took a month for him to be comfortable taking them off before his friend fell asleep at night. With Yoongi, though, it wasn’t ever a problem. The nurse found him at his worst, beaten and bloody after a bad encounter with the Russian mafia. He hadn’t been able to hide behind his glasses that time. Hoseok thinks they’re closer than ever because of it.
“Everyone says that blind people’s eyes are blank. Your eyes are anything but. They say so much, and when I look into them they steal my breath away. You have almond-shaped eyes with little creases on the inner corners. Your dark irises are like the midnight sky, and you have love bands underneath, right here.” Yoongi kisses the skin just below Hoseok’s eyes, causing him to huff out a laugh at the ticklish sensation. “Whenever you laugh, the corners wrinkle up in the most satisfying way.”
Yoongi’s hands trail lower down his neck and along his exposed chest and stomach. His fingers drift reverently over Hoseok’s many battle scars acquired from hundreds of nights of vigilantism, carefully avoiding the fresh and fading bruises.
“You have sun kissed, tan skin, and a freckle right here,” Yoongi pokes at a spot just below his left nipple, and he squirms away with a giggle. Hoseok interlocks his fingers with Yoongi’s and stretches their arms out to their sides in a T formation.
“You are the handsomest man to have ever graced my line of sight, Hoseok Jung,” Yoongi continues. “Every day I wake up next to you I am reminded of how much you mean to me and to everyone that cares for you. You are kind, you are selfless, and even though you might not think so, you are good. I love you.”
Swallowing down the sudden emotions his boyfriend’s words bring up, Hoseok responds thickly, “I love you too.”
Yoongi unclasps their hands so he can instead cradle Hoseok’s face between his palms, then kisses him for a sweet, long moment. Afterwards he pulls back and moves to lay down in the bed.
“Let’s go to bed, birthday boy.”
With a loving chuckle at the nickname, Hoseok complies. He leans over to the night table and feels around for the braille label on the lamp that reads light switch. He clicks it, and the dull hum of electricity goes silent as darkness blankets the bedroom. When he lays down, he scoots closer to Yoongi, wrapping an arm around the man’s waist protectively and intertwining their legs. Finally, he shuts his eyes, content and at peace.
Earlier today, he didn’t make a wish while blowing out the candles. He doesn’t believe in making wishes on candles or stars, and likely never will. But if he did, Hoseok thinks he would wish for every day to be like this one.