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Beomgyu woke up suspicious.
That was the first problem.
The second problem was that the dorm was far too quiet.
He lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling with narrowed eyes, blanket tucked under his chin. Usually, on his birthday, there would be at least one obvious sign—someone whispering too loudly outside his door, a phone vibrating nonstop with messages, a suspicious smell from the kitchen, or Soobin accidentally giving everything away with his guilty face.
But today?
Silence.
Beomgyu sat up slowly, hair a mess, lips pursed. “This is weird.”
He padded out of his room in oversized pajamas and found the living room empty. No balloons. No gifts. No cake. No members hiding badly behind the couch.
He gasped dramatically. “They forgot.”
From the kitchen doorway, Soobin looked up from making coffee and blinked. “Good morning.”
Beomgyu put a hand over his heart. “You too?”
Soobin, who was very clearly trying not to smile, leaned against the counter. “What did I do?”
“You forgot my birthday.”
“I did?”
“You sound very calm for someone who has committed a terrible crime.”
Soobin hummed and turned back to the coffee machine. “Maybe I’m innocent.”
Beomgyu shuffled closer, narrowing his eyes at him. Soobin was dressed simply, gray hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair soft and slightly messy, like he’d already been awake for a while. He looked unfairly warm in the morning light. Worse, he looked normal. Too normal. Suspiciously normal.
Beomgyu squinted harder. “You’re hiding something.”
Soobin glanced over. “Am I?”
“Yes. Your face does that thing.”
“What thing?”
“The thing where you try to act normal but look even guiltier.”
“I think that’s just my face.”
Beomgyu stared for another few seconds, then huffed and leaned into Soobin’s shoulder anyway. “Fine. But if everyone forgot, I’m going to be insufferable all day.”
Soobin let out a quiet laugh and reached up to smooth a hand over Beomgyu’s messy hair. “You’re insufferable every day.”
Beomgyu gasped again, but this time with less offense and more delight. “Wow. On my birthday.”
“Mm. Brave of me, right?”
Beomgyu tilted his head, rubbing his cheek against Soobin’s hoodie like a sleepy cat. “Very brave. You should reward me for not fighting you.”
Soobin’s eyes softened. “How about breakfast first?”
“Only if it’s made with love.”
“It’s toast, not a wedding vow.”
“Same thing.”
Soobin laughed properly then, the kind that made his shoulders shake a little, and Beomgyu felt instantly triumphant. That was one of his favorite things in the world—getting Soobin to laugh before the day had fully started, like he’d won something precious.
Breakfast was suspicious too.
His toast was cut into stars.
His fruit was arranged into a smiley face.
His milk had a tiny handwritten sticky note on the glass that said:
Birthday boy must eat well.
Beomgyu looked up slowly. Soobin, sitting across from him, pretended to be deeply interested in his own plain toast.
“You’re not subtle,” Beomgyu said.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You literally made my strawberries into a heart.”
“That could mean anything.”
“It means you’re weak for me.”
Soobin took a sip of coffee. “That’s an awfully confident conclusion.”
Beomgyu grinned. “And correct.”
The morning passed in a strange, sweet blur. The other members sent messages at suspiciously spaced intervals, each one warm and thoughtful and somehow too well-timed to be accidental. There were no big celebrations yet, no surprise attack of party hats or confetti, and that made Beomgyu even more certain something was coming.
Still, Soobin stayed close all day.
When they sat together on the couch, their shoulders touched. When Beomgyu complained dramatically about being “birthday neglected,” Soobin flicked his forehead and told him to stop acting like a tragic movie lead. When Beomgyu tried to steal Soobin’s phone to uncover the truth, Soobin easily held him back with one long arm, laughing while Beomgyu kicked his legs in protest.
“This is oppression!” Beomgyu declared.
“This is self-defense.”
“You’re holding me hostage on my special day.”
“You attacked me first.”
Beomgyu twisted around in Soobin’s grip to glare at him, only to freeze for a second. Soobin was smiling down at him—small, fond, helplessly soft.
That smile always did something dangerous to Beomgyu’s heart.
He grew quieter. “You’re being too nice.”
Soobin loosened his hold, expression gentling further. “It’s your birthday.”
“You’re nice every day.”
“Not according to you.”
“No, you’re mean every day too. But in a caring way.”
Soobin snorted. “That makes no sense.”
“It does to me.”
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Soobin reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind Beomgyu’s ear. It was such a small gesture, but Beomgyu felt it all the way in his chest.
“You deserve a good day,” Soobin said quietly.
Beomgyu looked at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.
“Just one?” he asked, trying to tease again because that was easier than feeling too much.
Soobin’s mouth curved. “You deserve every good day.”
And just like that, Beomgyu forgot how to be dramatic.
By evening, Soobin told him to get dressed.
That was it. No explanation. No hints.
Beomgyu complained the entire time, mostly for tradition, but he changed into one of his favorite sweaters anyway. When he stepped out, Soobin was waiting by the door with that same impossible calm.
“Where are we going?” Beomgyu asked.
“It’s a surprise.”
“I hate surprises.”
“No, you hate not knowing things.”
“That too.”
Soobin handed him a coat. “Come on.”
The car ride was filled with Beomgyu making increasingly ridiculous guesses.
“You rented a stadium for me.”
“No.”
“You bought me a horse.”
“No.”
“You’re taking me to see the stars and confess your undying love.”
Soobin kept his eyes on the road, but the tips of his ears went pink. “You say that like it’s a normal guess.”
Beomgyu leaned back smugly. “So you admit it’s possible.”
“I admit nothing.”
When they finally arrived, it was a quiet rooftop garden on a building they’d visited once before during a rare day off. It overlooked the city, all glittering lights and soft winter air. Warm fairy lights had been strung along the railings, and in the center was a small table with a cake, two steaming drinks, and a ridiculous number of candles waiting to be lit.
Beomgyu stopped walking.
“Oh,” he said, and then a little softer, “Oh.”
The whole place glowed.
Not extravagantly. Not loudly. Just warmly. Carefully. Like someone had built an evening out of all the things Beomgyu loved most and arranged them under the sky.
There was even a small speaker playing one of his favorite songs quietly in the background.
He turned to Soobin. “You did this?”
Soobin rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking shy. “With some help.”
Beomgyu’s throat tightened. “You did all this?”
Soobin stepped closer. “I wanted it to feel like you.”
Beomgyu laughed once, a little breathless. “You made my birthday aesthetic?”
“I tried.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“That sounds like an insult.”
“It’s not.”
Beomgyu looked around again, taking it in properly now—the lights, the cake, the extra blanket draped over one chair because Soobin knew he got cold easily, the little paper stars scattered on the table, each with handwritten notes folded underneath.
“What are those?” Beomgyu asked.
Soobin glanced at them. “Things I like about you.”
Beomgyu stared.
“There are… a lot,” Soobin added, almost apologetically.
For once in his life, Beomgyu had no clever response ready.
He picked up the nearest star and unfolded it.
You make every place feel less lonely.
He swallowed and reached for another.
You laugh with your whole heart.
Another.
You’re softer than people realize.
Another.
You take care of people in quiet ways.
By the fifth one, Beomgyu had to stop because his eyes were stinging.
Soobin noticed immediately. “Hey.”
Beomgyu pressed the little paper star to his chest. “You’re making me emotional. This is evil.”
Soobin smiled softly. “That wasn’t the goal.”
“Well, congratulations. You succeeded.”
Soobin hesitated, then stepped in close enough that their sleeves brushed. “Happy birthday, Gyu.”
Beomgyu looked up.
The city lights reflected in Soobin’s eyes. Or maybe it was the fairy lights. Or maybe Beomgyu was too full of fondness to tell the difference.
“You remembered,” he whispered.
Soobin let out a quiet laugh. “Of course I remembered.”
Beomgyu shook his head, smiling even as tears threatened. “No, I know that. I just—” He glanced around helplessly. “You remembered me.”
Something in Soobin’s expression changed then, becoming even gentler.
“I always do,” he said.
That was it.
That was what broke him.
Beomgyu stepped forward and threw his arms around Soobin, nearly knocking the breath out of him. Soobin stumbled once, then held him tightly, one hand on his back, the other cradling the back of his head.
For a moment, Beomgyu just stayed there, face tucked into Soobin’s shoulder, breathing in the familiar comfort of him.
“You’re too precious,” Beomgyu mumbled.
“That’s usually my line.”
“Well, I’m stealing it.”
Soobin’s voice dropped, warm and amused. “You steal everything.”
“Not true.”
“My hoodies?”
“Shared property.”
“My charger?”
“Community resource.”
“My heart?”
Beomgyu went still.
Slowly, he pulled back just enough to look at him.
Soobin’s face had gone pink again, but he didn’t look away.
Beomgyu’s smile bloomed, softer than teasing this time. “That too.”
Soobin laughed under his breath, helpless and fond, and rested his forehead lightly against Beomgyu’s.
“Then keep it,” he said.
The wind moved around them gently, carrying the city’s distant hum and the faint sweetness of the cake. Beomgyu thought, very suddenly, that this might be the kind of memory he would keep forever—this rooftop, this light, this quiet, this person looking at him like he was something worth celebrating.
They lit the candles together.
Beomgyu made a wish, though he was pretty sure he didn’t need to.
When he blew them out, Soobin clapped first, smiling so brightly that Beomgyu had to laugh.
“What did you wish for?” Soobin asked.
“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”
“So mysterious.”
Beomgyu cut the cake and handed Soobin the first bite. “Fine. I wished for more days like this.”
Soobin accepted the forkful, eyes softening again. “That sounds manageable.”
“And maybe,” Beomgyu added, voice lighter now, “for a birthday kiss.”
Soobin nearly choked. “Beomgyu—”
“What? It’s my birthday.”
“You can’t just say things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because then I—” Soobin stopped himself, flustered.
“Then you what?” Beomgyu asked, delighted.
Soobin gave him a look that would have been stern if he weren’t blushing so badly. Then, with a tiny sigh like he was surrendering to something inevitable, he reached out and gently cupped Beomgyu’s face.
The kiss was soft.
Warm.
Careful in the way that meant it mattered.
Beomgyu melted instantly, smiling against Soobin’s lips before they parted. When he opened his eyes, Soobin was still close, looking just as affected as he felt.
“Happy birthday,” Soobin murmured again.
Beomgyu’s grin was bright enough to rival the city below.
“Best one yet,” he said.
And later, wrapped together under the extra blanket, sharing cake and quiet laughter while the lights twinkled around them, Beomgyu decided that maybe birthdays were less about candles and gifts and grand surprises—
and more about being loved in the exact shape of your heart.
Tonight, under the sky, with Soobin’s shoulder warm against his and his fingers laced gently through Beomgyu’s, he had everything he wished for.
And more.