Work Text:
♡
Minghao knew the moment when Junhui texted him earlier that evening that he got their dormitory super messy and would take a few hours to make it normal. Minghao knew the moment when the said message was accompanied with ‘don’t come back till midnight! i promise i won’t set the dorm on fire’.
Well, pretty normal for Junhui to text that, nothing out of the Junhui-brand.
Except not really.
Why you may ask.
Because it was the 6th of November. And the 7th of November happens to be Xu Minghao’s birthday.
It doesn’t take a 120 hour credit from a university to put one thing with another and connect the clues and to conclude that Junhui is planning to throw a birthday surprise for Minghao.
Oh, in fact, Minghao is well-versed in reading people, especially in the case of Junhui.
Wen Junhui. That’s the name of Xu Minghao’s beloved best friend and the guy with whom Minghao shared his first lunchbox, first secret, first vulnerability, and too many firsts. Minghao hopes to add a few more firsts if both he and Junhui stop pulling and pushing.
Well, that’s another story. Let’s just continue from where we left.
Minghao knew it again the moment when he was yanked by two large sized human puppies while he was getting his things packed from the art corner of the university.
Seokmin has one arm slung over Minghao’s shoulder as if they were like old war comrades returning from a battle ground. To Minghao’s left, Mingyu walked with one hand clutching a suspiciously large bag, probably filled with a few snacks, which crinkled every now and then while they walked.
“You both are being weird, you know that?” Minghao uttered, his voice monotone.
It took exactly one second for Seokmin to gasp too loudly and counter back, with his free hand clutching his chest as if he was auditioning for a musical theater artist.
“Weird? Us? No way! We are just celebrating our precious art boy’s acing his assignments!”
“That was exactly what we did last week.” Minghao said flatly. “And, you said the same thing when I finished my midterm project.”
“That was practice.” Seokmin said quickly.
Mingyu nodded earnestly. “Yeah! Practice. For… uh, for this!”
“This?” Minghao raised an eyebrow.
“This.” Mingyu repeated, holding up the plastic bag like it was an exhibit. “Snacks.”
Seokmin nodded along so fast his hair bounced. “A huge amount of snacks. We thought— um, since you have been working hard, you deserve a reward! And we were totally not told by anyone, especially not Junhui, to keep you out until exactly— uh—um.”
Mingyu kicked Seokmin, hard.
Seokmin coughed. “—until we run out of snacks! Yeah!”
Minghao stopped walking. “You both are bad liars.”
Mingyu, panicking, smiled a little too wide. “We’re not lying! Look, we bought your favorite seaweed chips, and the weird cola flavor gummies you liked when Juhui bought, and— uh— and—”
“Let me guess.” Minghao said dryly. “Junhui paid for all this?”
Mingyu froze. “...Define paid.”
“Define ‘survive the night’.” Minghao shot back, deadpan.
Seokmin immediately jumped in to cover the growing silence. “Anyway! Snacks! Let’s eat them somewhere nice! Like, the riverside! With stars! And ducks!”
“There are no ducks nor stars at this hour.” Minghao pointed out.
“Exactly!” Seokmin said, grinning too brightly. “No ducks, no stars, and definitely no distractions!”
Minghao looked between them. Two tall hum puppies, trying very hard to act casual and failing miserably. Minghao let out a tired sigh.
He could have called them out fully, could have told them that he already knew Junhui was planning something, but then Seokmin tripped over his own shoelace while trying to open the chips, and Mingyu made a noise of concern so high-pitched it could shatter glass.
Yeah. Maybe he would let them have their task done which Junhui must have assigned.
“Fine.” he said, sliding his bag onto his shoulder. “But if you’re going to fake spontaneity again, at least let me pick the spot.”
Both perked up like puppies they are, immediately. “Really?”
Minghao nodded. “Hmm. There is a convenience store nearby that sells that overpriced matcha you two pretend to hate.”
Mingyu looked betrayed. “You noticed?”
“I notice everything.” Minghao said, voice calm but with the faintest edge of amusement curling through. “Especially when people think they are being subtle.”
They exchanged glances, both guilty and awed, before following him obediently toward the convenience store.
As Minghao stalled around the snack aisle, he heard the other two speaking secrets.
Seokmin whispered, “He totally knows, right?”
Mingyu whispered back, “Of course he knows, he is Xu Minghao.”
Minghao didn’t turn, but he did smile— small, secret, unguarded and soft in a way.
Because yes, he knew.
And yes, Junhui was terrible at hiding things.
But that’s what made it all the more endearing about him.
♡
By the time Minghao and the silly puppies reached the dorm building, the said puppies; Seokmin and Mingyu were practically vibrating beside him, eyes darting like spies in a children’s movie.
Seokmin was whispering something about ‘signal words’ and ‘code names’ while Mingyu tried and failed to subtly text someone under his sleeve.
Minghao decided to pretend he didn’t see any of it.
He could already feel the faint buzz of laughter through the door, the muffled thump of someone tripping over something (most likely Chan), and the distant shushing of what sounded suspiciously like Seungkwan threatening bodily harm if someone ruined the surprise.
It was endearing, in its own catastrophic way.
Jeonghan opened the door first— too quickly, too wide, and grinned like a fox.
“Oh, hey Eisa! You’re early!”
Minghao raised an eyebrow. “It’s eleven-fifty-eight PM.”
“Exactly!” Jeonghan said, stepping aside. “Come in, come in!”
Minghao didn’t bother asking Jeonghan why he was there in his and Junhui’s dorm.
The lights were off. A terrible sign, if one expected normalcy.
Minghao stepped forward, the darkness thick with the sound of muffled giggles and someone whispering ‘now?’ in panic.
Then the lights blazed on. Numerous tones aligned together, making Minghao flinch slightly.
“SURPRISE!!!”
The room erupted in chaos.
Balloons bounced against the ceiling, confetti rained down from what looked like a repurposed popcorn bucket, and ten very chaotic men yelled varying pitches of ‘happy birthday!!!’ until the echoes probably woke the next building.
Minghao blinked through the confetti storm raining down on him, his lips having a slight upward tilt.
The banner above the couch was crooked— painted with “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, XU MINGHAO!!” in glitter glue. Minghao is eighty-seven percent sure that the glitter idea is from Soonyoung. A hand-painted cat doodle sat next to his name, slightly off-center, the handwriting uneven in a way that screamed Junhui.
Soonyoung was holding a sparkler dangerously close to the curtains, Seungkwan was shrieking about fire safety, Jihoon was standing in the corner with his arms crossed but his mouth twitching into a small smile. Joshua floated through the chaos like the designated adult, handing out plates to Chan and Hansol, who were arranging the table. Wonwoo, with his hands occupied by the heavy lens of the camera the friend group gifted him on his birthday, documenting the moments. Seungcheol was making sure there would be no fight erupting between Seungkwan and Soonyoung.
And there, in the middle of the utter chaos, stood Junhui.
Covered in frosting, hair slightly messy, holding a cake shaped like a paint palette that looked both beautiful and on the verge of collapse. His grin was blinding, cheeks flushed from excitement.
When their eyes met, the chaos dimmed around Minghao.
Because behind all the noise, confetti rain, glitter coated room and questionable balloons, Junhui looked so proud.
So proud, and a little nervous— the kind of expression that came from hours of care disguised under a messy execution.
Minghao’s chest softened in quiet affection.
It wasn’t perfect. It need not be perfect.
The tablecloth didn’t match the balloons, half the candles were leaning sideways, and someone (probably Chan) had spelled ‘congratulations’ as ‘congrations’ on one of the cards.
But Minghao saw it all.
Minghao saw the fingerprints of his people, and especially Junhui’s.
He noticed the snacks he liked scattered on the table— seaweed chips, strawberry mochi, and that overpriced matcha he’d teased the others about earlier.
He also noticed the playlist in the background. A soft Mandarin song he once mentioned offhandedly months ago white he and Junhui were lying down on the balcony floor, stargazing.
He noticed Junhui trying to look casual while wiping frosting off his cheek with a tissue that definitely wasn’t clean.
And Minghao, for all his supposed indifference, couldn’t stop the warmth rising up his throat.
“Wow.” he said finally, deadpan. “You all really tried.”
The room laughed. Junhui let out a breath, stepping forward with that same lopsided smile.
“We did more than try.” Junhui said. “We conquered your suspicion.”
“I have known your plans since this morning.” Minghao said.
Junhui froze. “...You did?”
“I knew it! Junhui hyung has been using the same excuse for the past five years now?” Someone, probably Seungkwan, muttered.
“I’ve known you since we were twelve, Junnie.” Minghao said, and there was a quiet fondness beneath the teasing. “You’re incapable of subtlety.”
Junhui blinked, then started laughing, bright and unbothered. “Then I guess I’ll have to surprise you in other ways.”
Minghao raised a brow. “That sounds like a threat.”
“It’s a promise.” Jun said, eyes soft.
The others groaned loudly. Seungkwan, again, yelling, “We’re right here!” while Soonyoung fake-gagged into his drink but none of it really touched the little bubble of warmth forming between Junhui and Minghao.
Because under the noise, Minghao felt it. The sheer care, tremendous effort, the warm affection, the stupid sincerity that came with Junhui’s brand of chaos.
He sighed, looking around at the disaster of love that was his birthday surprise. “Okay.” he said quietly, almost to himself. “You did good.”
Junhui’s grin softened into something smaller, tenderer. “Happy birthday, Xiao Ming.”
And in that moment, with confetti on his hair and too many people laughing around them, Minghao felt his heart do something reckless.
And as Seungkwan yelled for someone to bring plates, as Mingyu nearly tripped into the cake, and as Jeonghan sighed like a tired parent— Minghao felt a warmth pulse under his ribs.
Maybe it wasn’t the perfect surprise.
But it was perfectly Wen Junhui.
♡
Pastel colors swirled over a paint-palette shape, a dozen uneven candles leaning like tiny drunks after a party, and Junhui standing beside it with the lighter like it was a sacred ritual. He was frowning in deep concentration, tongue poking out slightly as he tried to light the candles one by one.
Seungkwan leaned towards Hansol as he whispered loudly, “If Junhui hyung sets something on fire again, I am not saving him.”
“Seungkwan-ah, you literally said that last time too.” Jihoon said.
Junhui lit the last candle and smiled, proud, only to realize the first one had already gone out.
“Teamwork!” he announced brightly. “Somebody relight the first one!”
Minghao, standing a few steps away, crossed his arms. “Or,” he said, voice dry, “you could stop fighting the laws of physics and just let me blow them out.”
Jun turned to him with that dimpled grin that always spelled trouble. “No, wait— these candles deserve at least one dramatic buildup.”
Minghao rolled his eyes but stepped closer anyway. “You’re lucky I’m patient.”
“Lucky I’m persistent.” Junhui corrected, all sparkle and no shame.
The two main characters didn’t realise how much the NPCs were gagging at the lovey-dovey, push and pull situation they had on.
“Okay birthday boy, it’s your moment now.” Jeonghan said as he softly pushed him towards the cake (and mainly Junhui).
Everyone crowded closer. Seokmin had a camera phone ready, Wonwoo making sure everyone did not escape from the camera frame, Soonyoung was waving a sparkler dangerously close to Mingyu’s hair, and Hansol was already holding a fork.
Minghao folded his hands together, staring at the wobbling candles. “You realize these are a fire hazard.”
“Hazard?” Junhui smiled. “You mean a wish opportunity.”
Minghao rolled his eyes but leaned forward anyway. The light painted warm flickers across his face, confetti glittering in his hair, everyone’s voices melting into a single chant.
“Make a wish, Eisa!”
He glanced at Junhui once— Junhui’s beautiful eyes wide, hopeful, a frosting stain still clinging to his cheek, and then blew.
The smoke curled upward. For a heartbeat, there was quiet.
Then the room erupted again. Cheers and wishes were shouted, laughter spilled over. Minghao shook his head, soft around the edges despite his deadpan expression.
Junhui began cutting the cake, very carefully, very seriously and successfully managed to drop the first slice on the mismatched tablecloth.
A pause.
Everyone groaned.
Minghao sighed. “Junhui.”
Junhui shifted a little before looking up, meeting Minghao’s eyes, feeling bad and guilty.
“Gravity hates art.” Junhui’s face had his signature pout which he wore when something went off when he gave his best. And Minghao absolutely love that pout, It makes Minghao want to kiss—
“Yah! Just say you hate coordination!”
Someone yelled, probably Seungkwan or even Chan.
Joshua came to the rescue, fixing the damage with surgical precision while Wonwoo narrated into his camera like a documentary host.
‘And here is where you meet Joshua hyung being so caring and not in for drama and free— ah, I am sorry hyung!’
The laughter and chaos started, some (Hansol and Chan) already wanting to steal the strawberry hanging like it was a middle child. Hansol was so close to touching the sacred strawberry when Seungcheol asserted his voice.
“Yah! No one is allowed to eat before the birthday boy eats.”
Jenghan saluted. “Captain Cheollie enforcing the law of the cake.”
Minghao sighed again but took the knife from Junhui. “Fine. One piece.”
He cut a small slice, neatly this time, and everyone applauded like he had just solved the issue of world hunger.
Junhui grinned. “That’s my baobei.”
“Don’t call me yours.” Minghao said automatically— but his tone was too gentle to bite.
He passed Junhui a piece first, pretending not to notice the way Junhui’s whole face brightened at the gesture.
Then everyone descended like a pack of wolves.
Seokmin fed Joshua a bite and got frosting on his nose. Jeonghan somehow convinced Seungcheol to take the biggest strawberry for him. Soonyoung tried to start a whipped-cream war and was immediately tackled by Mingyu. Wonwoo kept filming through all of it, soft giggles passing every now and then.
Amid the noise, Junhui wiped his cheek, finally removing the frosting, and looked around like he couldn’t quite believe any of it was real.
Minghao caught him smiling to himself— that small, tender grin he only wore when he thought no one was looking.
The sight tugged at something in Minghao’s chest.
For all the chaos, Junhui’s touch was everywhere. The crooked banner, the snacks, the song still looping quietly in the background. This wasn’t just a party— it was care, disguised as glitter, chaos and laughter.
Seungkwan’s voice snapped him out of it. “Okay! Speech time!”
Junhui blinked. “Speech time?”
“Yes!” Soonyoung shouted, already clinking his glass. “Speech! Speech!”
Mingyu joined in. “Speech from Junhui!”
Joshua smirked. “You did organize this whole thing, Romeo.”
Wonwoo added helpfully, “The documentary needs a closing statement.”
Junhui looked alarmed. “Wait— no, Minghao should do it, it’s his birthday!”
But the chant was growing. “Junhui! Junhui! Jun! Jun!”
Even Seungcheol was grinning now, arms crossed, enjoying the spectacle. “C’mon, you started this chaos. Finish it.”
Junhui gave a helpless laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You guys. Okay, fine, fine.”
He turned toward Minghao, who was standing near the cake table, arms folded, watching him with that unreadable half-smile that always made Junhui’s heart trip over itself.
Junhui cleared his throat. “Uh. Right. A speech.”
The room fell into an expectant hush. Well, as much hush as twelve people can manage.
Junhui took a deep breath. “Okay. So. Xiaoba’s birthday. The best day, because… well, Xiaoming exists. And that’s already a win for the universe.”
A few whistles. Minghao’s eyebrow lifted, unimpressed but a pretty shade of pink starting.
Jun continued, fumbling. “You’re— uh— you’re like art. If art had legs. And a really good fashion sense. And a mean left hook.”
Soonyoung screamed, “TRUE!”
Laughter erupted again. Minghao’s mouth curved, a reluctant smile.
Junhui rubbed his temple. “No, but— seriously. You’re amazing. You work harder than anyone, but you still make everything look effortless. You… make everyone better just by being around.”
His voice softened. “Especially me.”
The laughter dimmed into quiet. Even Hansol stopped mid-sip.
Junhui let out a shy, genuine smile. “So, um— happy birthday, Minghao! You deserve everything good and to be happy. And, uh—” He hesitated, words tumbling before he could catch them.
“—and I like you a lot.”
Dead silence.
A fork clattered somewhere. Someone, probably Soonyoung, inhaled sharply.
Then Seokmin screamed, “Oh my god! He said it!” and the room exploded again.
Cue the chaos.
“We got it on camera!”
“We got Jun's confession before GTA6!”
“Simp Jun caught in 4K!”
“Wen Junhui, you idiot! You just confessed!!”
“I thought Jun Hyung was only planning to confess later tonight?”
Junhui blinked, realization dawning too late. “Wait, I— what!?”
Minghao was staring at him, eyes wide, expression halfway between disbelief and something unreadable clouding his eyes.
Junhui looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him. “I— I meant that in a friendly way! Like— like admiration!”
“Yah! You don’t admire someone by telling them they are an art and you like them with that simp face!”
The teasing swelled again, loud and merciless.
Hansol was laughing openly now, Jeonghan clapped Junhui on the back and uttered, “Well, there’s no taking it back, lover boy.”
Minghao, for his part, finally exhaled, then said, calm and clear, “You just had to make it public?”
The room hushed instantly, collective inhale. Someone whispered, ‘They are acting as if we haven’t caught them simping hard for each other.’
Junhui froze, his mind and brain definitely glitching. “I— um— it slipped out?”
Minghao tilted his head, lips curling. “Next time, try slipping your brain in first.”
Laughter burst again, but this time softer, with affection hidden behind every chuckle.
On the other hand, Junhui, however, seemed to have exited his own body.
He blinked once. Twice. Then froze completely, eyes wide and unfocused like a computer that just encountered an error.
“I— uh— no, I mean— uh, what I said was— uh, I didn’t mean it like— um, well, I did, but not— uh—”
Joshua wheezed. “He’s buffering.”
“Hard.” Hansol added, sipping from his drink.
Junhui’s mouth kept opening and closing, trying to reboot a sentence that wasn’t forming. His hands flailed helplessly, one still holding a fork, which he accidentally pointed at Seokmin like a microphone.
“Okay, um, let me— um— rewind? Wait, that’s not what I— uh— delete that?”
Soonyoung was crying from laughter. “Oh my god, he is crashing!”
Wonwoo commented with a chuckle, “Somebody press Ctrl+Alt+Del.”
Junhui turned red, face buried in his hands. “No one heard that, right? Like maybe it won’t happen if I start blinking hard enough?”
Seungkwan yelled, “Too bad for you hyung, because I am pretty sure that all of us got to watch you simp in 4K!”
Mingyu added, “And with background music if we consider us clowning.”
The teasing rose like a storm, cameras flashing, laughter bouncing, Chan and Hansol fangirling (??? Yeah, same.) and definitely more chaos.
Junhui looked seconds away from short-circuiting.
That was when Minghao stepped forward, expression unreadable. He just grabbed a rebooting Junhui’s wrist with gentle and firm energy and said, in a tone calm enough to cut through the noise.
“Okay, enough. He is going to combust.”
“Sure, but where are you taking him?” Seungcheol asked, his chin placed on the right shoulder blade of Jeonghan, half amused and half concerned.
Minghao didn’t pause. “Outside. Before his brain starts blue-screening.”
Junhui sputtered as he was dragged toward the door, still mid-glitch. “Wait— what— outside? Minghao, I— uh— can I— um— still apologize? Or— uh— unconfess? Is that a thing?!”
The door closed behind them before anyone could answer, leaving eleven howling idiots inside.
Outside, the night was cooler and quiet, a sharp contrast to the chaos they had just left.
Minghao let go of his wrist only when they reached the balcony. “Breathe.”
Junhui blinked at him, wide-eyed. “I can’t. I think my social life just ended.”
“It didn’t.” Minghao said, leaning against the railing, arms crossed. His lips twitched. “But it was a valiant effort.”
Junhui groaned into his hands. “I glitched.”
“Hmm. You did.” Minghao agreed. “Hard.”
“I didn’t even mean to confess!” Junhui said miserably. “I mean, I did, but not like that! Not in front of everyone! I had a plan and everything!”
Minghao’s eyes softened, amusement threading through his voice. “You had a plan?”
“Yes!” Junhui said, looking genuinely distressed. “It involved, lots of things you would love like, candles, moon, a tea set and— okay, less witnesses— yeah, less witnesses— definitely no Soonyoung and Seungkwan— and maybe a—”
Minghao interrupted gently, “You’re still glitching too much, Junnie.”
Junhui shut his mouth instantly.
The silence stretched— soft, slightly charged. The laughter from inside became a distant hum.
Minghao looked at him, really looked— the moonlight highlighting the pretty pink shade dusting his cheeks, the nervous energy in his hands fidgeting, the ridiculous frosting smear he had somehow missed on his sleeve.
Then, quietly muttered while stepping forward to Junhui.
“You are a mess.”
Junhui sighed. “Yeah. I’m sorry, I—”
“Don’t be.” Minghao cut in, his tone lighter. “It’s one of my favorite things about you.”
Minghao saw Junhui’s ethereal face getting confused. Minghao can see the visible question marks loading inside Junhui’s mind.
Junhui blinked. “What?”
Minghao shrugged, gaze sliding away, the smallest smile tugging at his lips. “You meant what you said, right?”
Junhui hesitated, then nodded, honest. “Yeah. I really meant every word. Including you being art.”
“Then that’s all that matters,” Minghao said softly. “The rest are just noise.”
Junhui’s heart skipped, the world narrowing to the sound of his voice.
“…So,” he said after a beat, weakly. “Does that mean I’m forgiven for glitching publicly?”
Minghao looked at him, eyes glinting, and said, “Hm, letting you slide this one.”
Junhui grinned sheepishly. “So… that’s not a no, right?”
Minghao shook his head, fond exasperation written all over his face. “You’re impossible.”
“Persistent,” Junhui corrected.
“Same thing.” Minghao said.
The crowd inside howled, returning to the same chaotic energy they had whenever everyone was around like, someone throwing confetti again, and the list of chaos goes on.
Junhui hid his face in his hands, but the smile that broke through his fingers was unmistakably bright and helpless and happy.
The balcony felt like a different world— night air cooler against overheated cheeks, the echo of laughter softened to a warm, faraway hum. Down the block, a scooter buzzed past; overhead, a plane cut a slow, clean line through the sky. Confetti clung stubbornly to Junhui’s sleeve like it had decided it lived there now.
Junhui leaned his forearms on the railing and tipped his head back. “Pretty, huh?”
Minghao followed his gaze. The moon hung low and whole, the city light turning its edges faintly gold. “You are planning to compare me to the moon again, aren’t you?”
Junhui’s mouth curved, helpless. “Wasn’t gonna, but now that you mention it—”
Minghao cut him a look. “You’re insufferable.”
“Again, persistent,” Junhui corrected, softer this time, like the word was a promise rather than a defense. “Like gravity.”
They stood there a moment, the kind of quiet that didn’t demand anything. Junhui’s breathing finally settled. Minghao watched the way his shoulders rose and fell, the way that last smear of frosting on his cuff looked both ridiculous and impossibly endearing.
“You know what I think?” Minghao said.
Junhui turned, immediately. “What?”
“The moon doesn’t seem that far when I’m with you.”
It wasn’t rehearsed or anything. It just slipped out, clean and honest. Junhui blinked like someone had opened a window in his chest and let the light in.
“Say it again,” he murmured, like he was afraid he had misheard.
Minghao didn’t. Instead, he wore a shy smile, letting his fingers skim the railing until they found Junhui’s. A brush first, which was a testing and then a firmer, certain slide until their hands fit together, warm and sure. Junhui went absolutely still, like he had discovered a new kind of balance he didn’t want to mess up.
“Okay.” Junhui said, voice low, reverent. “Then I guess… you’re my sky.”
Minghao snorted— a soft, involuntary sound that betrayed him. “You know, you are pretty terrible at metaphors.”
“Maybe.” Junhui said, eyes bright and ridiculous and happy. “But you are still the one I think of when I look up.”
Inside, a cheer went up, someone must’ve found the leftover sparklers despite Seungkwan’s threats. The shout faded. The breeze tugged at Minghao’s hair; Junhui reached with his free hand and gently tucked a stray strand behind his ear like he had been meaning to do it for years.
“Still glitching?” Minghao asked, voice a shade too light to hide the way his pulse kicked.
Junhui’s mouth tilted. “Only when you look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m allowed to be this happy.”
Minghao’s reply got lost somewhere between his throat and the space between them. He didn’t move away when Junhui took half a step closer. He didn’t move when Junhui paused for a breath, a question, close enough that Minghao could smell sugar and citrus on his skin.
“Can I—” Junhui began.
“Yes.” Minghao said, before Junhui could finish, before he could talk himself into a circle and out of the moment. “Before you start buffering again.”
Junhui let out a quiet and shaky laugh and then there was nothing funny about any of it. He kissed him like an exhale, like a door finally opening into a familiar room. Soft, with a steady pressure. No fireworks. No dramatics. Just warmth, and the calm certainty of being exactly where he should be.
Minghao’s hand tightened around his. The other found the lapel of Junhui’s jacket, anchoring him, pulling him closer for a second, deeper pass that assured yes, yes, yes.
They broke apart a fraction, foreheads almost touching. Junhui’s eyes were the kind of shining that made Minghao bite down on a smile.
“Happy birthday to me, I guess.” Minghao murmured, breath ghosting over Junhui’s lips.
Junhui’s answering grin was small and undone. “And to me. You kind of made it my favorite day too.”
Minghao hummed, thumb sweeping once over Junhui’s knuckles. “I’ll allow it.”
“Oh, being generous, aren’t you?” Junhui glanced up at the moon again, then back at Minghao like he had decided which one mattered. “Hey… you know how you said the rest is just noise?”
Minghao hummed, his face wearing a shy and soft smile.
“Then let’s keep this part.” Jun said, squeezing his hand. “The quiet and the home bit.”
Minghao tipped his head, as if he is considering, and then stepped in until their shoulders fit, easy as breathing. “You’re ridiculous.” he said into Junhui’s shoulder.
“Hopelessly.” Junhui agreed, smiling into Minghao’s hair.
Through the glass, someone, definitely Soonyoung, shouted, “If they are not back in two minutes, then I am eating the brush off the cake.”
Seungkwan’s scandalized yelp followed, and more chaos.
The balcony light flicked, then steadied. The moon slid behind a thin cloud and came out again.
Minghao didn’t move. “We should go back before they burn the dorm.”
Junhui nuzzled his temple, a quick, giddy press. “I don’t care. We already have the fire extinguisher.”
“You mean Seungkwan?”
“Same thing.”
Minghao huffed a laugh. He pulled back just enough to meet Junhui’s eyes, soft, sure, and kissed him once more, a small, sealing touch.
“Come on, Junnie.” he said, threading their fingers again. “Let’s go home.”
Junhui glanced at the door, then at Minghao, and smiled like he had already arrived. “Already there.”
They went in together, still hand in hand, still steady, ready to be swallowed by chaos, carrying their little piece of quiet with them like a secret the moon had witnessed and approved.