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Jun’s birthday was always a big deal — not because he made it one, but because everyone around him did.
From the moment they landed in Taiwan, his phone was flooded with messages, their staff had a cake waiting in the hotel lobby, and fans had already trended #HappyJunDay before sunrise.
He didn’t mind it. Honestly, he kind of loved it.
The attention, the love, the way his bandmates went overboard every year like it was a national holiday.
This time, though, something felt a little different.
Quieter.
Because this year, the best part of his birthday wasn’t the spotlight.
It was the person sharing his hotel room.
They arrived in Taipei the day before the concert, a rare bit of breathing room in their packed schedule. The city greeted them with warm air, the hum of excited fans, and signs welcoming the band plastered across the airport.
By the time they checked into the hotel, Jun was buzzing from the energy, and Dylan looked quietly overwhelmed in the way he always did when they touched down somewhere new.
Their shared hotel room was already filled with surprises.
Neatly stacked gift bags lined the table and windowsill — birthday presents for Jun, along with a surprising number of “Welcome to Taipei, Dylan!” packages, complete with snacks, handwritten notes, and tiny plushies of him mid-dance.
Jun chuckled at the sight, dropping his bag by the couch. “You’re popular,” he teased, nudging Dylan as he opened a box of local sweets.
Dylan rolled his eyes but smiled, cheeks slightly pink. “Guess I should come here more often.”
Dylan moved toward another small package on the table, unwrapping it curiously—then burst into laughter.
“Oh my god,” he said, holding up a sugar cookie shaped exactly like himself, complete with messy hair and a tiny mic in hand. “They made cookies of us.”
Jun looked over and snorted. “Wait, seriously?”
Dylan held out a second one. “Here’s you. Honestly? Not bad. They nailed your eyebrows.”
Jun took it with mock offense. “My eyebrows are perfect.”
Dylan turned the cookie version of himself in his hand, then grinned. “This feels weird. Is it wrong to eat my own face?”
Before Jun could answer, Dylan was already pulling out his phone, angling it just right as he held up the cookie shaped like himself.
With a perfectly deadpan face, he bit into the head dramatically, snapped a photo mid-chomp, then tapped rapidly on his screen.
A second later, his Instagram story refreshed — the picture posted with the caption:
jeb na wei.
ouch, that hurts!
Jun peered over his shoulder.
“Wow. All that and you didn’t even mention me?”
Dylan shrugged, smug.
“You want a feature? Better be nice.”
“Gimme that,” Jun said, grabbing his own cookie and posing with it.
“Everyone knows I’m the better snack.”
Dylan glanced at him, smirking as he picked up the cookie shaped like Jun.
“Hard to argue with that,” he murmured, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
Jun tilted his head. “What was that?”
Dylan just grinned, still looking down at his cookie.
“Nothing.”
But the corner of Jun’s mouth twitched, eyes soft as he watched him.
He heard it.
After a while, Jun wandered over to a bouquet of sunflowers in a corner, plucking the little envelope nestled between the petals.
“This one’s from that fan who always draws us as kitten and puppy,” he said, holding up the doodle tucked inside — a cartoon Jun-pup curled around a very grumpy Dylan-cat. Dylan leaned over his shoulder to see, chest pressed to Jun’s back.
“That’s… weirdly accurate,” he mumbled, chin resting lightly on Jun’s shoulder.
Jun tilted his head back to glance at him. “You think I’m the clingy one?”
Dylan raised an eyebrow. “You literally fall asleep on top of me every other night.”
Jun smirked. “And you never complain.”
“…That’s not the point.”
Still grinning, Jun turned around fully, wrapping his arms around Dylan’s waist.
Dylan looked at him with a soft kind of amusement, eyes searching his face like he was trying to memorize every expression.
“You’re really happy today,” he said, not as a question, but more like a quiet observation.
“I am,” Jun replied.
Dylan slung his arms loosely around Jun’s neck, pulling him in with an easy grin.
“Because it’s your birthday?” he asked, voice low and teasing.
Jun shook his head slightly, gaze warm.
“Because of you.”
Dylan blinked, the teasing edge slipping from his face for a moment as his breath caught. His arms tightened just a little around Jun’s neck, eyes flicking between Jun’s lips and his eyes.
“…That’s not fair,” he murmured, the smallest smile tugging at his mouth, soft and stunned.
“You can’t just say things like that.”
Jun’s smile widened, smug but fond.
“Why not?” he said, tilting his head slightly.
“You say stuff like that all the time.”
Dylan let out a quiet laugh, eyes narrowing.
“Yeah, but you’re not supposed to beat me at my own game.”
Jun chuckled, leaning in until their foreheads nearly touched. “You like it.”
“...Unfortunately,” Dylan murmured, lips brushing his. “Yeah, I kinda do.”
And when Jun kissed him — just a quick, teasing press of lips — Dylan didn’t stop smiling. Not even when Jun pulled back with that smug, I-win look in his eyes.
“Let’s stay like this for a while,” Dylan said quietly.
“Yeah,” Jun nodded, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Let’s.”
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 🎂
The day arrived with humidity hanging in the air and excitement buzzing through the hotel halls. Taipei was alive with energy, fans waiting outside the venue hours before soundcheck, lights already starting to glow as the crew set up.
But Jun woke up to something much quieter.
He stretched under the sheets in their shared hotel room, hair messy, eyelids heavy. The blackout curtains were still drawn. For once, no loud voices, no early alarms, no chaos.
Just the smell of clean sheets, the distant hum of the city, and the warmth of another body beside him.
Dylan was still asleep, face buried halfway in the pillow, a faint crease between his brows like he was dreaming too hard.
One arm was thrown over Jun’s waist, legs tangled like they’d just fallen asleep mid-conversation.
Jun smiled to himself. He leaned over and kissed Dylan’s forehead gently, letting it linger.
Dylan stirred, mumbling something unintelligible before slowly blinking awake.
“Morning,” he rasped, voice thick with sleep.
“Hey,” Jun whispered. “Happy my birthday.”
That got a soft laugh from Dylan, who tightened his arm around Jun.
“Happy your birthday,” he repeated, nuzzling against Jun’s neck, breathing in the soft scent of him. He felt the warmth of Jun’s skin, the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath his fingers.
Without thinking, he shifted slightly, adjusting himself so that Jun was even more securely tucked into his side, as though the moment would slip away if he didn't hold on tight enough. He let out a quiet sigh, his fingers tracing lazy circles over Jun’s hoodie.
Jun smiled to himself, his fingers lightly grazing Dylan’s arm. “You’re going to spoil me all day, aren’t you?” he teased, his voice still thick with sleep.
Dylan let out a soft chuckle, his lips brushing against Jun’s skin. “I mean, it's your birthday. What else would I do?”
Jun shifted, his eyes half-lidded as he looked down at Dylan. “I don’t know,” he murmured, “maybe… kiss me some more?” The playful glint in his eyes was matched by the curve of his lips.
Dylan’s heart skipped a beat at the suggestion, and without hesitation, he closed the distance between them in one swift move. His lips crashed against Jun’s with a heat that surprised even him, as if the simple request had ignited something inside him that couldn’t be contained.
He kissed Jun fiercely at first, their mouths moving together in a rush, the taste of him familiar and sweet, yet still sending a thrill through Dylan’s veins.
But then, just as quickly, the kiss softened. Dylan pulled back for just a moment, breaths mingling.
His fingers tangled in Jun’s hair, tugging him closer, and then he kissed him again, slower this time, savoring every second. His lips trailed down Jun’s jaw, kissing the sensitive skin of his neck before finding his way back to his mouth, unable to stop the smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Is that enough?” Dylan murmured, his voice thick with warmth and affection.
Jun just stared at him. A moment passed or two. Then, without a word, Jun suddenly rolled them over, flipping their positions so he was now on top, straddling Dylan with a triumphant grin.
Dylan blinked up at him in surprise, his hands automatically resting on Jun’s thighs.
“My turn now,” Jun declared, cutting off whatever playful protest Dylan had been about to make.
He grinned mischievously before attacking Dylan’s face with a flurry of quick, playful kisses. He peppered Dylan’s cheeks, his nose, and finally his forehead, each kiss light but filled with affection. Dylan’s laughter echoed softly in the room, his body shaking under Jun’s teasing assault.
“Ai Jun, stop—” Dylan laughed breathlessly, trying to squirm away, but Jun only pressed closer, showering him with more kisses.
“Can’t help it,” Jun teased between kisses, his voice muffled by Dylan’s skin, a grin never leaving his face. “You’re too cute.”
Dylan’s expression softened. For a moment, he didn’t say anything—just smiled, slow and full, eyes warm as they settled on Jun’s face. That quiet kind of happiness bloomed in his chest, the kind that made everything else in the world feel a little quieter. A little better.
He reached up, brushed his thumb lightly across Jun’s cheek. “You’re ridiculous,” he murmured, but his voice was fond, his gaze lingering like he didn’t want to look away.
Then, after a while…
“I like your birthday,” Dylan said softly.
Jun chuckled. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Dylan murmured.
“It got you born.”
That earned a quiet laugh and another kiss pressed into his temple, gentle and warm.
“Wow. Deep. Should I thank my mom for her contribution to humanity?”
Dylan grinned, nudging Jun.
“You should. She made art.”
“Stop,” Jun groaned, face flushing with laughter as he buried it in Dylan’s shoulder.
“You’re embarrassing.”
“Not as embarrassing as you crying over that cartoon last week,” Dylan shot back, smug.
“That cat was lost for four episodes, Dylan. Four.”
They both burst into laughter, muffled against each other, the kind that made Jun’s chest ache in the best way — light and full and warm.
“You know,” he murmured, “this is already the best birthday I’ve had.”
Dylan didn’t say anything—just pressed a kiss to his cheek, then his jaw, then lingered at the corner of his mouth.
It was enough.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 🎂
The lights flared gold as the chorus dropped, and Dylan’s voice rang out, clear and warm, eyes glinting under the spotlight.
As the familiar opening chords of Trust Me began, the stage shifted into its softer, more intimate lighting.
The crowd knew what was coming — that one moment every performance where Dylan would tilt Jun’s chin gently, a practiced move, just a beat in the choreography.
But this time, something felt different even before it happened.
Dylan stepped in closer, his hand finding Jun’s jaw with a gentleness that made the world narrow to a point. Jun turned toward him instinctively, expecting the usual fleeting glance before they moved apart like always.
Only Dylan didn’t move on right away.
His eyes held Jun’s for a beat longer — just enough to make Jun forget the crowd, the cameras, the lights — and then, swift and sure, Dylan leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Jun’s cheek.
The crowd erupted.
Screams swallowed the music for half a second, the noise crashing over them like a wave. Jun blinked, stunned for a split second, then turned back toward the audience with a faint, flustered grin tugging at the corner of his lips, biting it back.
Nano let out a not-so-subtle cackle mid-line, barely managing to keep his voice steady as he sang through the smile spreading across his face. Pepper was grinning like a madman. And Thame?
Thame looked like he was ready to sprint straight off stage from secondhand embarrassment.
But Dylan? Dylan just kept singing, perfectly composed — except for the tiny twitch of his lips, satisfied and smug.
And maybe a little in love.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 🎂
The stage lights dimmed, the last notes of Trust Me still hanging in the air — along with the crowd’s collective scream from THAT moment.
Jun was still mildly malfunctioning, cheeks flushed, mic clutched in his hand like it might help him survive whatever was coming.
Dylan? Dylan looked criminally unaffected, casually sipping from his water bottle like he hadn’t just kissed his bandmate on the cheek in front of thousands of people.
Then came the Fan Talk Segment.
And the questions? Immediate. Merciless.
First one shouted from the crowd:
“DYLAN — THE CHEEK KISS??? HELLO??? EXPLAIN YOURSELF!!!”
Jun looked like he wanted to disintegrate. Dylan raised an eyebrow, slowly lowering his water bottle.
Before he could speak—
“SHIP MOMENT!!” Nano yelled into his mic, leaning into the chaos like a man with no survival instinct.
The fans lost it.
Pepper, without missing a beat, launched into a weirdly committed beatboxing rhythm to try and drown it out. “Buh-ka-cha-tuh, no questions, we’re moving on—pfft-pfft—next segment, everyone, woo!!”
Thame visibly facepalmed.
Jun made a strangled noise, tugging his hood over his head like it might offer protection. “I hate it here,” he muttered.
Dylan, completely calm, smiled like he’d just dropped a match into a fireworks factory.
“What? It was part of the choreo,” he said innocently.
The crowd screamed again.
“Liar!” Nano shouted gleefully.
“That’s not even close to the choreo!” Pepper added between beatbox breaths.
“You added lips!” Jun blurted, then instantly regretted it. “I mean—NO. I MEANT—forget it. Erase that from your minds.”
Too late. The crowd was already chanting.
“TRUST ME KISS! TRUST ME KISS!”
Dylan just winked.
Jun groaned into his mic.
Later, fans would post slowed-down footage with sparkly edits, dramatic music, and thirty different angles.
Jun would be tagged in all of them.
And Dylan? He’d like every single post.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 🎂
During the photo session break, the energy in the room was buzzing, but Jun was very clearly running on emotional fumes — post-performance glow, residual embarrassment from fan talk, and the lingering effects of that kiss.
The moment the staff called a five-minute break before the next batch of fans came in, Jun made a beeline for the edge of the stage and dropped down beside Dylan on the bench like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Without a word, he leaned sideways and let his head fall onto Dylan’s shoulder with a sigh, eyes fluttering shut.
Dylan stiffened for half a second, then relaxed, turning just enough to rest his cheek lightly against the top of Jun’s hair.
“You good?” he murmured, voice barely above the hum of the crowd in the distance.
Jun gave a small nod. “Just recharging. You’re warm.”
“That’s because I’m a human furnace,” Dylan deadpanned, though he didn’t move. His hand found Jun’s without thinking, their fingers tangling together easily.
A staff member walked by and paused like they were going to say something — then just smiled and kept going.
Jun peeked up at Dylan through half-lidded eyes.
“You know they’re all going to post this later and scream about us being gross.”
Dylan hummed, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Jun’s head. “Let them scream.”
Jun grinned sleepily, squeezing Dylan’s hand.
“You’re lucky I like being gross with you.”
A fan in the next group caught sight of them and immediately clutched her chest like she’d been physically hit. Her friend beside her just mouthed,
“Oh my god.”
Jun didn’t move. He just smirked against Dylan’s shoulder and whispered, “We’re giving them content. We’re so generous.”
Dylan chuckled, eyes crinkling. “Icons, really.”
They stayed like that until the staff called out, “Next group!”
And even then, Jun didn’t sit up until the last possible second — only to immediately loop an arm around Dylan’s waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Okay,” he said, smiling wide for the first photo.
“Let’s make more people lose their minds.”
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 🎂
Dylan sat at the edge of the bed, the dim light of the lamp casting shadows on his face. Jun had just changed into something more comfortable, his hair still a little messy from the performance, and now he stood near the window, staring out at the city lights.
The energy of the crowd still buzzed in his veins, but now there was something else—something deeper. A small smile played on his lips as he thought about the day, the love and connection that had threaded through every moment.
Then, he heard the soft strum of a guitar.
Turning around, Jun saw Dylan sitting with the guitar in his hands, his fingers moving over the strings with ease. His gaze was focused, intense, and as he started to hum softly, Jun’s heart skipped a beat.
“What are you doing?” Jun asked, walking toward him slowly, his voice low and warm.
Dylan looked up at him, a flicker of something shy and vulnerable crossing his face.
"I… uh, wrote something,” Dylan said, his voice barely louder than the hum of the guitar.
“Kind of. I mean, it’s not finished. Or, like… it wasn’t supposed to be. But then I kept thinking about you, and it just sort of… finished itself.”
Silence. And then—
You light a room without a sound
Your laugh wraps softly all around
Your kindness shines, it doesn’t shout
And every glance still finds new routes
You change the world just being near
You lift up others, hide your strain
I’ve seen you stand through loss and rain
The storms you’ve weathered, all alone
You call yourself a passing spark
But, baby, you’re my stars in dark
You’re perfect, flaws and scars and all
You catch me every time I fall
You listen like it’s life or death
And hold me close in quiet breath
With you, the world feels safe and still
And in your arms, I find myself
So here’s my vow, no grand display
I’ll love you more with every day
Not for the things you do or say
Not for the fact you always stay
But just for being you, always
Exactly you — in every way.
Dylan let the final chord linger in the air, the strings still vibrating softly beneath his fingers.
Then he looked up.
His eyes found Jun’s — wide and glassy, shimmering in the warm light of the room.
And in that moment, it was like the world narrowed to just them.
Just this.
With a breath barely louder than a heartbeat, Dylan whispered,
“Happy birthday,”
like it was a promise.
Like Jun was everything.
That’s when Jun moved.
Without a word, with tears slipping silently down his cheeks, he launched forward and threw himself at Dylan — arms wrapping tightly around his neck, burying his face in his shoulder like he needed to be closer than skin could allow.
Dylan made a soft, surprised sound, the guitar slipping gently to the side as he caught him, arms instinctively holding Jun like something precious.
Jun trembled slightly against him — overwhelmed, full, undone in the best way — and Dylan just held him tighter, one hand coming up to thread through his hair, the other curling protectively around his waist.
After a moment, with his face still buried in the curve of Dylan’s neck and breath hitching like he was holding back a storm, Jun finally spoke — voice barely a whisper, trembling and raw with everything he couldn’t contain.
“I love you.”
Dylan froze, then let out a breath that sounded like he’d been holding it for months. He pulled back just enough to see Jun’s face, only for his heart to stutter at the sight of more tears slipping free.
“I love you too,” Dylan said softly, like a secret he’d been dying to say out loud. His thumb brushed gently under Jun’s eyes, catching the tears before they could fall further.
Dylan raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin tugging at his lips, despite his own tears rolling down his face.
“You know, you’re really ruining my tough-guy image here,” he teased, voice thick with emotion. “I was going for ‘mysterious and cool,’ not ‘wet puppy in need of a cuddle.’”
Jun’s laughed wetly through the tears, but it only made more fall. He shot Dylan an incredulous look. “You’re unbelievable,” he managed, still sniffling, but the warmth of the moment made the tears feel a little lighter.
“Hey, someone’s gotta keep you from turning into a total mess,” he said, his voice quivering slightly with tenderness. Jun let out a startled laugh, swatting weakly at his arm. “You’re the one crying too, idiot.”
Dylan wiped at his own face with a dramatic flourish. “Yeah, but I cry attractively. Very cinematic. You, on the other hand…” He glanced at Jun’s blotchy cheeks and red nose with a playful wince. “Tragic. Oscar-worthy.”
Jun rolled his eyes, half-laughing, half-sobbing still, and clung to him tighter.
Dylan pressed a kiss to his temple, his fingers brushing gently through Jun’s hair, grounding them both in the quiet aftershock of everything.
Then, with a soft exhale, Dylan leaned back just enough to meet Jun’s eyes — swollen, red, and still shining.
“I actually had one more birthday gift planned for you, you know,” he said, voice low and a little mischievous.
Jun blinked at him, still catching his breath. “Was the song not enough? Because you kinda wrecked me already. Did you write a sequel or what?”
Dylan grinned, eyes glinting. “Nope. Better.”
He shifted closer, sliding into Jun’s lap with casual ease, hands resting on his shoulders.
Dylan’s grin curled wider, smug and lazy as he trailed his fingers along Jun’s jaw.
“And talking about wrecking…” he murmured, voice dipping lower, rougher.
“You’ve seen nothing yet.”
Jun’s breath hitched — half in anticipation, half in exasperated amusement.
“You really said ‘emotional devastation wasn’t enough, now I’m going for physical collapse?’”
Dylan tilted his head innocently.
“Well, I like to be thorough.”
And before Jun could reply — or roll his eyes again — Dylan leaned in and kissed him.
Not soft, this time. Not shy.
It was the kind of kiss that told a story. One of build-up and want and years of not-quite-getting-there. His hands slid into Jun’s hair as their mouths met, and Jun melted into it like gravity had shifted.
Their bodies tangled instinctively, heat rising fast as Jun pulled Dylan in by the waist, kissing him like he’d waited his whole life to unwrap this particular present.
Dylan made a soft sound in the back of his throat — pleased, breathless — and deepened the kiss, his hips pressing forward just slightly.
Jun gasped into him, dizzy, grinning between kisses. “Okay,” he mumbled, lips brushing Dylan’s.
“Best. Gift. Ever.”
Dylan kissed him again, slower this time, like he was claiming the moment for both of them.
“Told you,” he whispered, smug against Jun’s mouth. “Limited edition. One of one.”
Jun just laughed, tugging him closer.
“I think I’ll keep it.”
“You better,” Dylan murmured, already diving back in.
Jun grabbed the front of Dylan’s hoodie and pulled him in deeper, kissing him like it was the only language left between them.