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It was Sae's birthday today. The thought alone was enough to make him sigh.
He had woken up a little too early, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because a part of him just wanted the day to pass quickly.
Still tangled in his sheets, he sat there for a moment in silence, staring blankly at the faint sliver of dawn leaking through the curtains. The house was quiet. He blinked slowly, soaking in the stillness.
Another year older. Big deal.
Truthfully, Sae had never particularly cared for birthdays. In fact, he had long decided that he disliked them. It was just that, the very concept of being celebrated for simply existing another year struck him as pointless–he didn't understand what there was to celebrate.
Birthdays were noisy, filled with relatives who called him "Sae-chan" even though they barely knew him. They laughed too loudly and patted his head as if he were still the same boy who used to hide behind his mother's legs.
On top of that, they'd eat his cake, crowd his space, and talk about how tall and grown-up he looked now. Tch.
"You're growing into such a handsome young man, Sae-kun!" they’d say, "You'll make your parents proud one day!"
As if he wasn't already trying to. Bleh.
Still, the day would come every year, regardless of how indifferent he felt toward it. The cakes and gifts softened his annoyance–slightly, at least, but not enough. The worst part was having to pretend to be cheerful. His parents would scold him otherwise. "You're frowning too much, Sae! It’s your birthday!"
...So, he'd plaster on polite smiles, give quiet nods, and endure the shallow small talk that always felt like swallowing glass.
Sae pressed his palms into his eyes, as if to rub away the weight of the day before it even began. Slowly, he sat up, running a hand through his hair, still messy from sleep, before pushing himself off the bed with a resigned sigh.
He could already picture what was coming; dealing with his parents' attempts to make the day cheerful, as well as the relatives who would arrive by noon. He could already imagine the chatter and the annoying laughter filling the house. He didn't want any of it. He'd much rather be outside, kicking balls at old geezers' cars.
Whatever. At least the house was quiet now.
Still half-drowsy, Sae stepped into the hallway, his socks muffling his steps on the wooden floor. He passed the door to Rin's room as he made his way to the bathroom, but paused upon noticing something odd.
Rin's door was ajar, which was unusual.
Rin, his little brother, wasn't an early riser, especially not on weekends. Usually, he'd sleep in late, buried under blankets, and Sae would have to nudge him awake or threaten to eat his breakfast to get him out of bed.
Sae frowned slightly, curiosity stirring behind his usual calm. He leaned closer and pushed the door open a little further, just enough to peek inside.
It was empty–Rin's bed. The blankets were a crumpled mess, the pillow dented where a small head should've been. No little brother in sight. Weird.
Sae blinked the sleep from his eyes, his brain still sluggish. Where the hell did that little idiot go this early?
Sae's brows furrowed as he paused in place. Maybe he'd gone to the bathroom? He turned toward the end of the hall, but the light wasn't on, and there was no sound of running water.
Then, he heard it: something stirring faintly from downstairs, faint but distinct.
Sae sighed, already suspecting trouble. Was Mom awake? He stepped out into the hallway and began descending the stairs, the faint hum of a machine reaching his ears–clearer now–a low, uneven whirring sound.
It came from the kitchen, followed by a dull clatter. Sae blinked in confusion as he paused at the corner. That, indeed, didn't quite sound like their mother cooking; it was too chaotic to be her. Whatever was happening in there sounded like a small storm.
When Sae turned the corner into the kitchen, it all made sense. The scene that greeted him made him stop in his tracks.
The kitchen was a total mess.
Flour floated in the air like mist, dusting every visible surface. The counters, as well as victims to this massacre, were covered in an apocalyptic battlefield of sugar, eggshells, and dripping spoons.
And in the center of it all, balanced precariously on a stool dragged in front of the counter, was Rin.
Sae blinked.
Rin looked just as ruined as the kitchen, covered head to toe in flour. His black hair stuck up in all directions, dusted with flour until it looked grey.
He seemed busy mixing something in a bowl, his tongue poking out in deep concentration, the electric mixer wobbling dangerously in his small hands as he was visibly struggling to keep it from escaping.
For a moment, Sae could only stare, his eyes wide.
"Rin–what the hell are you doing?"
The moment the words left his mouth, a little sharper than intended, he realized it was the wrong way to ask.
Rin jumped, startled by the sudden voice, and his hands jerked. In that split second, tragedy struck; the bowl slipped off the counter, the mixer tumbling after it with a loud clatter, and a thick splash of white batter exploded across the floor.
Silence.
Sae saw the horror dawn on his brother's face–Rin’s mouth opened soundlessly, his lower lip trembling, and his eyes glistened with the unmistakable shimmer of tears. He looked at the ruined mess on the floor, then up at Sae, utterly devastated.
"N-Nii-chan..." he whispered, his voice cracking. "It all spilled..."
Sae's shoulders dropped; the annoyance in his chest dissipated immediately, replaced instead with a pang of guilt. He hadn't meant to scare him.
He stepped across the floor, careful not to step into the puddle of batter, and reached for Rin, gently lifting him off the stool.
"I-I'm sorry..." Rin hiccupped as Sae set him down, rubbing at his already wet eyes, guilty. "I was... I was making a cake... for your birthday..." The words came out shaky, but they were sincere in a way that made Sae's chest ache in that way.
Tch.
For a moment, he just stared at Rin–the flour-dusted cheeks, the tear-stained eyes, the mess of hair sticking up in every direction. His little brother had woken up early, all by himself, just to make him a cake.
"...Idiot," Sae muttered under his breath, though his tone had softened, far from cruel. He crouched down and brushed his thumb gently across Rin's cheek, wiping away a streak of flour. "You woke up for this...? You should've called me, stupid. You can't use that thing alone."
Rin blinked up at him, lip quivering as he nodded, his eyes wide and wet. "I just wanted to surprise you, Nii-chan... I wanted to make you something all by myself."
That earnestness–so small, so raw–pulled a reluctant smile out of Sae, the kind that tugged at him before he could stop it.
"You're such a brat," he muttered, but there was no bite in the words.
Rin gave a small, watery laugh, and Sae couldn't help but sigh, ruffling his hair affectionately, letting the powdery dust cling to his fingers. "Come on," he said quietly, standing again, "let's clean this mess up before Mom sees."
"Will she be mad?" Rin asked in a whisper.
"Probably," Sae said dryly, earning a small giggle. "But don’t worry. I’ll take the blame if she ever finds out."
Rin blinked up at him. "Really?"
"Yeah. It's my birthday. I get to decide whose fault things are."
Rin smiled at that, a shy curve of lips. Then, unsure, he muttered, “And you... Are you mad, Nii-chan?”
Sae tilted his head. "Tch. Don't be stupid. How could I be mad at someone who tried to make me a cake?" He ruffled his hair again. "Now come on, let's get to cleaning before they wake up."
He handed a towel to Rin’s small hands and grabbed the mop. Together, they began cleaning.
They worked together–well, Sae did most of the work, wiping the counters and mopping up the sticky floor while Rin trailed behind him with a towel, smearing more than he actually cleaned. Still, neither did Sae mind it, nor have the heart to correct him–the effort itself was enough to make something warm bloom quietly inside his chest.
By the time they were done, the kitchen no longer looked like a warzone, just slightly... traumatised. Sae straightened up and stretched, lastly setting the stool properly before glancing down at Rin for a moment, thoughtfully.
"You still want to make that cake?"
Rin's head shot up immediately. "Can we?"
"Yeah," Sae replied, tugging open the fridge. "But we're doing it together this time. I'm in charge of the eggs."
Rin puffed his cheeks. "Okay, fine! But I get to mix!"
Sae sighed. "Fine, but be careful not to spill anything like before."
Rin puffed his cheeks in response. "Hmph, that was because you scared me, Nii-chan!"
"Yeah, yeah. Come on."
The next hour passed quietly. Sae carefully cracked eggs in the corner while Rin tried to measure flour. Sae guided his hands through the process, patient in a way he rarely was with anyone else, really. Thankfully, this time, there were no disasters. They poured the batter into a tray, and when the cake was in the oven, Rin, sleepy with his eyes half-lidded but shining with satisfaction, leaned against Sae's leg.
"Nii-chan," he murmured after a while, voice barely above a whisper. "Happy birthday."
Sae looked down at him, caught off guard. For a moment, he didn't know what to say. Then, his expression softened.
"…Thanks," Sae replied, his voice quieter than usual. For once, it didn't feel empty.
When the cake was ready, Rin insisted on doing the frosting. Predictably, he went overboard, smearing too much frosting across the top, and Sae found himself smiling again. Watching Rin beam with pride over the lopsided result made something loosen inside him, allowing him to forget all about the stress of the day.
Their parents still haven't awoken, so they decided to sit at the table, sharing uneven slices of the too-sweet cake they've baked together, and it... didn't taste that bad–in fact, it was probably the best cake he’d had in a long while.
At that moment, for the first time in a long while, Sae found himself thinking–
Maybe birthdays aren't so bad after all.