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The soft hum of rain against the window greeted Suga before the sunlight did.
His eyes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the grey light streaming through the half-closed curtains of his tiny one-bedroom apartment. The blankets were warm, but the space felt colder than usual — colder in a way that came from inside. Birthdays were supposed to be warm, weren’t they? Especially his 18th ....
His fingers drifted across the edge of the photo frame on his bedside table, pausing like they always did on the corner smudged from years of quiet touch. The picture inside was faded slightly, worn soft at the edges — a snapshot of a younger Suga, maybe ten, grinning wide between his parents. His mother’s hand was in his hair, his father’s arm slung around his shoulders, the three of them sunlit and laughing, frozen in a moment that no longer existed in the world beyond the frame.
They weren’t here anymore. And no matter how many birthdays passed, that absence still felt like a shadow that stretched longer in the early hours of the morning — especially on days like this.
He blinked, but the sting didn’t go away. His chest felt heavy, as if grief had curled up there overnight and refused to leave. It wasn’t sharp like it used to be. The edges had dulled with time. But the ache remained, persistent and quiet — like a pebble in his shoe he could never quite find, never quite shake loose.
“Happy birthday,” he whispered to the photo, voice catching faintly.
There was no answer, but somehow, that didn’t make the silence feel any less full.
He sat up, ran a hand through his tousled hair, and sighed.
Just as he was about to drag himself out of bed, his phone buzzed.
Dai ❤️
Hey birthday boy. You’ve got a mission today. Look under the pillow on the couch.
Suga blinked. “A mission?”
Intrigued despite himself, he shuffled to the couch. Tucked beneath the throw pillow was a folded piece of paper.
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Clue #1:
Where petals bloom and you forget the world — someone’s waiting with something soft and fragrant. 🌸
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Suga couldn’t help the small smile that curled at the corner of his mouth. He knew exactly where that was.
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Stop 1: The Flower Shop
The bell above the door chimed as he stepped into Shiori’s Florals , a tiny corner shop filled with the scent of jasmine and fresh earth.
Shiori, the older woman who owned the shop, beamed at him from behind the counter. “Koushi! Happy birthday, darling. Someone left this for you.”
She handed him a small bouquet — delicate lisianthus in white and lilac, his favourite.
There was another note nestled in the wrapping.
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Clue #2:
Where cinnamon meets your lips and the world feels sweeter. Say hi to Kenji for me. 🥐
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Stop 2: Kenji’s Bakery
The moment he stepped in, the warm scent of freshly baked bread wrapped around him like a hug.
“Ah! The birthday boy,” Kenji called out. “Your man said you'd be coming. Said you like these more than his arms. Not offended. Much.”
He handed over a neatly wrapped package. Inside was a still-warm pastry — a chestnut and vanilla cream bun, the one Suga always got when he was stressed during school.
But more than that, it was the pastry.
The one his mom used to buy from the little bakery near their old house when he was small — always on chilly autumn mornings or after a doctor’s appointment he’d dreaded. The first bite always melted in his mouth, sweet and earthy, the vanilla smooth and comforting like her voice humming along to old radio songs in the kitchen. His dad used to steal the last bite with a wink and pretend it wasn’t him, even when Suga would huff and cross his arms. They always laughed.
Suga stared at the bun in his hands now, suddenly unable to move, the scent rushing up and unearthing years he thought had settled.
It was Daichi’s favourite of his, but also — somehow — his parents’ . A small, edible time machine.
He swallowed hard past the lump in his throat.
God, he missed them. But somehow, Daichi had found a way to bring them back, just for a moment — in flour and cream, in kindness and memory.
He lifted the pastry to his lips and took a bite. It was still warm. Still soft.
Still home.
Another note fluttered out:
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Clue #3:
You tried to teach me fashion here. I looked like a fashionable disaster, but you were radiant. Find the shirt that made you laugh at me the most. 🧥
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Stop 3: That Weird Little Boutique
Suga laughed under his breath as he entered Threadlight , the quirky little boutique tucked between a laundromat and an old record store. The walls were still cluttered with mismatched mirrors, ivy garlands, and aggressively hipster mannequins. Just stepping inside brought the memory rushing back — vivid and ridiculous.
It had been about a year into dating when he dragged Daichi here, determined to add some flair to his boyfriend’s wardrobe. Daichi had grumbled the entire way, but followed like he always did — one hand in Suga’s, the other stuffed deep in his hoodie pocket.
Suga remembered the exact moment: Daichi standing in front of a mirror, shoulders awkwardly stiff, wearing a button-up shirt that had a wild geometric print and little strawberries hidden in the design.
“You look like a math teacher who moonlights as a fruit vendor,” Suga had said, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Daichi had tried to glare but ended up laughing, shaking his head as he peeled off the shirt with the exaggerated weariness of a long-suffering man in love. “You’re lucky I like you.”
“ Love, ” Suga had corrected smugly. “You said it in your sleep last week. Don’t act like I’m wrong.”
Daichi had gone beet red and nearly tripped over a stool.
They ended up leaving that day with nothing , in fact one could argue that Daichi lost his dignity in there but we don't talk about that.
Now, as Suga approached the counter, Aya — the same boutique clerk from that day — handed him a soft black tee with a subtle silver line design and a knowing smile.
“Your guy picked this out for you. Said it looked like something that wouldn’t make you insult him.”
Suga chuckled, holding the shirt close. It was simple, warm, exactly his style — but what made his chest ache was how well Daichi remembered. Not just the shirt. The day. The laughter. Him.
Attached to the folded fabric was a tag:
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Clue #4:
It’s almost time. Come find me under the tree where you told me you loved me first. Bring everything with you. 🎂
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Final Stop: The Park
The sun was just beginning to set, turning the sky into a wash of pale orange and soft rose. Suga made his way through the quiet path until he saw it — the large old tree in the middle of the park, the one with the twisted roots and carved initials.
Daichi was sitting beneath it, wearing a soft sweater, looking up as he arrived with the gentlest smile.
Spread out before him was a blanket, a little picnic set-up, a candle-lit cake with delicate frosting, and two containers of their favourite homemade food.
Suga stopped, heart full and throat tight.
“You planned all this?” he asked, almost whispering.
Daichi stood and wrapped his arms around him immediately. “Of course I did. You deserve more than just a happy birthday. You deserve to feel loved every step of the way.”
Suga held on for a moment longer, burying his face into Daichi’s neck.
“I missed them today,” he murmured. “But I think… I think they would’ve liked this...They would've liked you.”
Daichi pulled back just enough to kiss Suga’s forehead. “I think they would’ve loved you being loved.”
Suga let out a shaky breath, his fingers still curled in the front of Daichi’s sweater like he wasn’t quite ready to let go. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”
Daichi smiled softly. “Not always. Just … with you, I try harder.”
There was a pause — the kind filled with things unspoken but deeply understood. Suga looked up at him, eyes glassy but steady.
“You made today feel warm again,” he said quietly, his voice threatening to break. “Even without them. I didn’t think that was possible anymore.”
“It is ,” Daichi replied gently, brushing a thumb over his cheek. “Because they’re still part of you. And I’m just… lucky enough to be part of what comes next.”
Suga gave a breath of laughter at that — a small, broken sound that still held light.
“You’re such a sap,” he whispered.
“And yet you’re the one crying,” Daichi teased, nudging his nose against Suga’s with a smile. “Come on, birthday boy. You’ve got cake and terribly romantic picnic food to eat.”
Suga nodded, finally letting Daichi guide him down onto the blanket, fingers never letting go of his.
They sat down on the blanket, knees brushing, the glow of the tiny candles flickering gently in the growing dusk. Daichi opened one of the containers and handed Suga a pair of chopsticks with an exaggerated flourish.
“For you, my delicate prince,” he said dramatically.
Suga snorted, accepting them with a mock bow. But as he peered suspiciously into the dish, his brow furrowed. “Wait a second—this smells… good. Too good.”
Daichi raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.
“I mean it,” Suga said, dramatically clutching his stomach. “You did have someone help you cook this, right? You’re sure I’m not going to get food poisoning and miss practice? I barely get to play as it is, and if this takes me out, I’m haunting your ass.”
Daichi gasped, hand on his chest. “Excuse you. Yes, actually—I had Asahi help me.”
Suga nearly dropped his chopsticks. “Oh my god, that’s even worse! That man once put salt instead of sugar in a cake— twice. ”
Daichi jabbed at him with his own chopsticks. “ And Kiyoko, you absolute prick.”
Suga burst into laughter, covering his mouth but failing to hide the way his eyes crinkled in delight. “Okay, fine, that does explain why it smells edible. Still. I’ll be watching you.”
Daichi grinned and scooped a bite into Suga’s bowl with mock sweetness. “If you die, I’ll tell the team it was a noble sacrifice for love.”
Suga leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to Daichi’s cheek. “At least I’ll go out happy.”
They both laughed then — freely, openly — and began to eat under the fading sky, surrounded by their memories, their laughter, and the love they'd built strong enough to carry the weight of grief and still feel light.
And when the stars began to show above them, Daichi leaned in slowly, gently.
Their kiss was soft and long, the kind that didn’t need words.
Just love.