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Ken felt unusually cheerful when he woke that day, looking first bleary-eyed at the digital clock on his bedside table. Unusual, because he was positively happy, not just cheerful.
April 6. Best day of the year, at a tie with Christmas. His eyes snapped open and he jumped out of bed, hastily washing his face and brushing his teeth even though he still had an hour before he had to leave for school.
Wriggling out of his pajamas, he put on his uniform, carefully tucking his shirt in his shorts so it didn’t wrinkle as it usually did. Combed his hair and styled it the way mom did on special occasions. He wanted to look his best today.
He passed by his brothers’ rooms, one by one, knocking on their doors in a cheerful marching rhythm and calling for them in a sing-songy voice. “Wake up, Shik-ah! Good morning, Bin-ah! Time to get up, Hyogie!”
Prancing to the dining table, inhaling the aroma of fresh coffee and bacon, he stopped by his bleary-eyed mother figure, giving him a kiss on the cheek that seemed to wake him before taking the seat across him, humming as Ken waited for breakfast, practically beaming. Giggling as he watched his father stare at him, turn to his other father cooking in the kitchen and give him a puzzled look, to which Taekwoon answered with a shrug. Hakyeon looked back at him, smiling fondly. “Did something happen, Kennie? Good dream?” he asked as he lifted his cup of coffee up to his lips.
Both his parents looked clueless, but Ken was smart. He knew better than to be fooled by their acting. “It’s my birthday!” he announced. There was a moment of silence, wherein they just stared at him as if this was new information to them, exchanged a look of horrified realization, before his two fathers burst into greetings.
Hakyeon stood from his seat, hugging him and kissing the top of his head. “Happy birthday, baby!” Hakyeon said, cheerfully at first but then his voice tapered into disappointment, and he held Ken gently, as if soothing a blow that was to come. “Omo…But my students’ recital is today.”
Ken tried not to look crestfallen, reminding himself that his parents were acting, but then Taekwoon came over, setting down a plate of fried rice, eggs, and more strips of bacon than he usually gave them, and a large glass of orange juice. “Can’t make it to dinner?” he asked his husband, soft voice more muted than it already was, as if he didn’t want Ken to hear, but he did.
Ken felt, rather than saw, Hakyeon shake his head before he pulled away and looked at Ken with the most apologetic face. “Maybe we’ll celebrate this weekend? Is that okay?”
Taekwoon pursed his lips. “I have a music video to shoot this weekend…” he said quietly, shaking Ken’s confidence just by a little.
His fathers turned to him, and Hakyeon kissed him on the forehead. “Don’t worry, Kennie. Appa and I will figure it out.”
Ken was certain the worry in his father’s voice was fake.
Probably.
——————
Hongbin had jumped off the car as soon as they were in front of the school gates, claiming he was late for football practice. Maybe he was preparing a surprise? Ken wasn’t so sure. Hongbin didn’t even greet him happy birthday during breakfast, or maybe that was part of the plan?
Hyuk had at least congratulated him before eomma dropped him off at the pre-school a block away.
“Kennie,” Hakyeon called from the driver’s seat, leaning towards the open passenger seat window. Ken searched his face for any sign of concealed laughter–eyebrows scrunched up, eyes tight with worry, lips a straight line. “We’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
It took some effort to make the corners of his lips curl up in a smile. “Okay. Take care,” Ken said as he turned away, not even bothering to look if Wonshik was following. He might have heard Hakyeon say “I love you” as he left, but he wasn’t sure.
He hasn’t been very sure of a lot of things since this morning.
——————
Ken and Wonshik changed their shoes in silence, walked through the hall wordlessly, the younger boy reading Ken’s mood. As they reached the second floor landing, where they separated as Ken’s class was on the third floor, Wonshik grabbed his hand, spinning him around–Why did all his brothers seem stronger than him? Was he that lacking in exercise?–and caught him in a hug.
“Happy birthday, Ken-hyung!” Wonshik said, removing his arms around Ken only to place his hands on his cheeks and squish his face. Ken couldn’t have resisted the giggle that bubbled up from his mouth even if he tried. Wonshik knew that. “Don’t be mad at eomma and appa, okay?”
“But how?” Ken wanted to say, but he knew Wonshik wouldn’t leave him alone if he said it and then he’d cry, and then they would both cry. So instead, Ken nodded, the smile heavy on his lips.
——————
It was already second period when their teacher noticed the class calendar. “Omo, it’s Jaehwannie’s birthday!” she had said upon seeing his picture in the little box labeled “April 6”, and she led the entire class into singing him a birthday song.
But before she did, no one even walked up to him to tell him “happy birthday”.
——————
Wonshik and Hongbin had gone up to Ken’s classroom, dismissed from class a little earlier than usual, only to ask if he was coming home with them or if he was going to visit the art club. He wasn’t really planning to go to the art club today. There wasn’t even a schedule today, though members were free to come. He thought he would be home with his family, and maybe some of his friends, blowing out candles.
But nothing had gone as Ken thought it would the entire day, so he told them, “I have something to finish today. Take care, okay?”
Wonshik had looked at him with worry evident in his face, but before he could open his mouth to ask if Ken was okay, Hongbin dragged him away. “Come on, Park Hyoshin-sshi’s the guest on music channel today!” he heard the pretty boy say, and Ken had to bite back a whine. He could remember a celebrity’s stupid guesting but not his brother’s birthday.
You suck, Bin-ah!
——————
Some of his classmates greeted him a happy birthday as they filed out of their classroom. Ken took his time packing his textbooks, carefully replacing his pencils and erasers in his pencil case, and then neatly arranging them all in his bag. His classmates had all gone by the time he got out of the class.
The hallway was deserted, most students already in their individual clubs or gone home, but Ken took the longest way to the art club anyway. Going two flights of stairs down to the first floor, crossing to the other side of the building, and then climbing back up to the second floor. Trying to walk off his frustration.
He was angry and sad and disappointed. People forgot about his birthday, even his brothers, worst of all his parents. He never asked for much attention, but on the one day that he wanted it, they had all forgotten. “April six is Jyani’s special day, and yours alone, baby,” he remembered Hakyeon saying, every year, without fail, until today. It made Ken want to squat down in a corner and cry.
Blinking back tears, he found himself in front of the club room. It was silent inside, none of the usual chatter, and sometimes excited squealing, Ken heard one classroom’s length away. People must have already gone home. He was thankful for that. He needed the time to sulk, and then draw, paint. Summer was coming, but he felt like drawing rain, blue and grey and black. The idea pulled a wry smile up on his lips.
With a heaving sigh, he slid the door open.
Suddenly there was confetti, glitter, balloons, and party strings everywhere. People. So many people. Friends, classmates, teachers, Hongbin, Hyuk, Wonshik. Pulling him into the room and singing the happy birthday song, so loudly that his ears ached in protest. They led him to the center of the room where his parents waited, big grins on their stupid faces, holding a big orange and yellow and red cake between them, two layers of frosted goodness.
Appa had one of his rare wide-mouthed smiles, rows of small front teeth in full display. Eomma had tears in his eyes. Hongbin glomped him, his lips moving, probably in apology, but Ken couldn’t hear the words over the singing (yelling, really) and the sound of his heart hammering in his chest. Hyuk hugged him around the chest, lifting him off the ground and spinning him around–No, seriously, why are ALL his brothers stronger than him? Ken screamed, or maybe laughed, he couldn’t even hear himself over the din.
But when Hyuk put him down between their parents, Ken was breathless, from elation or shock, he couldn’t tell.
Appa presented the cake in front of him, blinding him from the number of sparklers impaled and lit on top. His eyes stung, maybe from the overbright sparklers or maybe from tears, making the reds, oranges, yellows and whites swim and blend together. He barely managed to count the number of sparklers on the cake, but he managed.
One, two, three…
As many as the years he has lived.
It was indeed Ken’s special day. His and only his.
——————
“I knew, you know,” Ken said, nose stuck proudly in the air, stomach bloated from all the cake and juice packs he had inhaled. He’s seated in the back of the car, his brothers piled on his lap and around him, making up for acting cold towards him the whole day, their heavy stomachs pulling them to sleep. Ken’s eyes were getting droopy as well.
The sun had set and the orange lights of the streets reminded him of his cake. Warmth glowed from his chest, spreading to the rest of his body, to the tips of his toes and fingers, and he sighed in content.
“Knew what?” appa asked, looking back at him from the rearview mirror.
“The surprise,” he answered, adjusting Wonshik on his lap so he didn’t roll off the seat. “I knew you’d have a surprise for me.”
Eomma hummed, eyes flickering to Ken’s reflection on the rearview mirror before training back to road. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” Ken said with a yawn, leaning his head against Hongbin’s on his shoulder, making Hyuk shift to a more comfortable position from leaning on his right shoulder to sprawling on Wonshik’s back.
He heard a puff of air, appa’s chuckle. “What gave us away?”
Ken gave another yawn, allowing his eyelids to close. “Eomma…never forgets…birthdays,” he said in between yawns.
He didn’t see Hakyeon blush, but he faintly heard him giggle. “But I was good, right? I was a good actor?” He paused, then spluttered as if embarrassed. Appa must have been giving him the look, the one that told him he was being a dummy. “I was good! …right, Kennie?”
There was a noncommittal hum that sounded faintly like the first few notes of the birthday song as Ken drifted to dreams of sparklers and cakes and confetti.