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It's a Monday morning, but somehow, through a miracle, Jeonghan wakes up before the two figures huddled on either sides of him. Because of their unusual professions, Mondays are their rest days. He glances at the calendar, then at the clock. It feels like he was forgetting something, but he couldn't put his finger on it.
Whatever, that thought can bother him later; maybe he can make surprise celebratory pancakes for breakfast while he's at it. It's not a lot of times when he wakes up first between the three of them. His smile is fond when his gaze traces the peaceful features of his boyfriends, lacking any stress or tension from work.
They're beautiful, Jeonghan thinks to himself. Whenever he feels cheesy and fake deep like right now, his mind always thinks of how the two of them are lilacs, and he's the grandiose mariposa, who, despite the beauty of his wings, still need a place—a safe haven, if you may—to land on, which are the flowers. Jihoon and Minghao are his favorite flowers.
He pries himself out of Minghao's lanky, yet firm arms; Minghao has always been more unconscious when it comes to being manhandled while sleeping. On the other hand, he has to be extremely careful because he doesn't want to disturb Jihoon's rare, peaceful rest.
He tiptoes outside of the room and gets straight to making the batter, but only after wearing an apron with the words World's Best Mom embroidered on the big pocket right by the stomach. He smiles at the memory when Jihoon gave that to him around two years ago for his birthday, the smaller guy—who's usually the more rational, collected one between the three of them—flustered because he straight out panicked and grabbed whatever that reminded him of Jeonghan in the store.
("Are you sure about this?" Mingyu asked, cringing when Jeonghan cracked the eggs too hard against the rim of the frying pan, shells falling in along with the viscous raw food gradually turning white from heat.
"Of course! How can you be the World's Best Mom when you can't cook?" Jeonghan let out a triumphant cackle.
Jihoon and Minghao hesitantly ate the eggs with shells in them as soon as it was done, but the stomachache they experienced a day after was worth it when they saw the brightest smile they had ever seen from Jeonghan.)
As he pours the milk, he doesn't realize that his ratio for the milk and pancake mix got messed up. He pouts and feels flecks of the powder mix tickling right under his nose, hand jolting up to rub the itching sensation.
He looks at the mirror to check his face, only to see that the batter got to his philtrum, looking as if he has a translucent mustache. A chuckle escapes his lips, not because of the funny look, but because he remembers clearly that one time where him and Minghao were planning to surprise Jihoon with deliciously made pancakes with warm syrup and milk.
That surprise ended up with the kitchen covered in flour, an equally food-covered Jeonghan and Minghao on the floor tickling each other, a disappointed Jihoon, and eventually Jihoon flipping the pancakes.
That was the best plate of pancakes the three of them ever had, albeit the batter being too thick and the horrendous amount of clean-up Minghao and Jeonghan had to do.
(Jihoon relaxed while they suffered, which was one of the things that he actually needed that day. Along with their kisses. Unanimously, he was the big spoon between the three of them that night, just chuckling fondly at both their tired whining from the long day of cleaning.)
He realizes he's been staring at the mirror instead of starting to flip the pancakes and rushes to the stove to get everything heated and ready to cook.
He pours just the right amount to make three pancakes, for now, the batter not in the right consistency to hold itself in a pancake form in the first place. This pancake surprise is slowly becoming a disaster. He frowns, but only because the bothering thought comes into mind again. What was he forgetting today?
As he racks his mind for something, anything, he doesn't realize the smell of burning food stinging his nostrils. He lets out a screech akin to the sound he usually makes whenever he warms up his vocal cords and tries flipping the burnt pancake, which ends up looking like one big black, deformed disc.
This commotion woke the two up and went to the kitchen immediately, faces etched with worry.
Jihoon and Minghao both yawn with a groan, but they step closer to look at Jeonghan's creation anyways. Guffawing at the failed attempt, Minghao escapes Jeonghan's embarrassed elbow nudge to the ribs attack.
"You know, you didn't have to make all of this for our fiftieth month anniversary."
Oh.
Realization dawns over Jeonghan.
Oh.
That's what he was forgetting all this morning. He chuckles, all awkward and unsure, and turns off the stove, a sheepish grin curling his lips.
"But of course, I'd love to surprise you two...surprise!"
Both of them know the eldest forgot, and they ride along anyways. But not without making Jeonghan take at least three bites on his sorry excuse of a hotcake.
Deep inside, Jeonghan’s contented that at least his pancake held itself together.
That evening, they go to Jeonghan's favorite Japanese sushi place and Jeonghan compensates his guilt by telling the truth and volunteering to do the laundry and dishes for the week.
Minghao and Jihoon share a knowing smile as they munch on their salmon roll, and that's when Jeonghan realizes he's been scammed, because their 50th month isn't until next Monday, once he double-checks it on his calendar. The pout on his lips never left even as they walk back home, though the main reason isn't because he got tricked, but because he let himself get played, when it was usually the other way around.
(The two compensated in return by giving him a full body massage and coddling the life out of their boyfriend to start his week of doing the dishes and laundry with a bang.
They didn't know why, but they can never resist each other; they figured it was probably a good thing.)
Jeonghan finds out by eighth of November at 12:01 in the midnight that he actually forgot Minghao's birthday. His fucking boyfriend's birthday. He has never felt this bad since he realized how bad of a son he was for his mother, and that was when he was ten years old.
(Minghao assured the eldest that he didn't care, at least he had another guilt-trip-worthy material ready in hand to get out of trouble or doing chores—of course he didn't include the latter part of the sentence.
What was important for him was that he spent it with the two of the most important people in his world. Jihoon and Jeonghan pretended that they didn't feel like cringing at the cheesy, yet well-said, declaration from the boy.
It was almost half an hour before one, but Jeonghan persisted that they have a movie marathon for Minghao's birthday.)
Unsurprisingly, the three of them end up skipping work that morning.