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“Morning, sweetie. Happy birthday.”
Those were the words that greeted Paper when he groggily opened his eyes and adjusted to the light of his bedroom. His brain caught up to speed, remembering that it was, in fact, his birthday.
“Thanks, hon.” Paper chuckled with half-lidded eyes. OJ couldn’t help but smile back at him. “It’s just another day, though.”
“Of course not!” His lover scoffed, pretending to sound a little offended. “It’s my amazing and beautiful husband's birthday. Perhaps more important than mine! It’s not just another day when I have the perfect excuse to dote over you and treat you like a prince.”
“Sappy. Good to know you haven’t changed a bit since I slept.”
A hearty laugh filled their bedroom as Paper shuffled from under his sheets to sit up. It must’ve been early, as the sun's rays bathed the room in an orange glow, making OJ look somewhat ethereal. Paper hoped he didn’t notice the blush that crossed his face when that thought came to him.
“So? What’s the lucky number today?”
“Twenty-seven. I can’t believe I’m only twenty-seven years old.” Paper muttered. He paused, then shrunk in a little on himself. “I’m getting older…”
“Oh dear, another year you’ve spent ageing with me?” OJ said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “That’s terrible. How ever will you manage?”
“You know that’s not what I meant!” Paper shrieked, playfully hitting the man across him. He was still smiling, though, and he dorkily smiled back at him. Comfortable silence fell on the pair for a moment.
“Guess we ought to start the day…” Paper sighed, starting to shuffle out of his bed when OJ vehemently stopped him.
“Absolutely not. I said I’d treat you like a prince, and princes get breakfast in bed.”
Paper raised a brow.
“Really? Cooking? You?”
“I-I promise it’ll be fine!” OJ stammered, already walking towards the door. “I guess if I start screaming, then you can check up on me, but otherwise, you are not leaving this room.”
"Alright," he smirked. OJ closed the door behind him, and for a few long minutes, Paper questioned why he married this man in the first place.
Though, it wasn’t long before he came back with a tray of toast, poached eggs (which Paper knew for a fact came from the microwaveable poached egg maker they had), and a small side of cereal. He scoffed as he reached for his cutlery.
“Next year, for your birthday, I’ll show you how a man really cooks.”
“Mhm, sure.”
To be fair, the meal could’ve been worse, and if Paper didn’t take the time to teach him how to not handle the microwave with fear, something might’ve set alight downstairs. The eggs were a bit overcooked, the toast underdone, and the cereal-to-milk ratio definitely skewed, but he thought the thought was too cute to let any negatives get to him.
Halfway through, Paper looked up from his tray and noticed OJ was staring at him while grinning like an idiot.
“Are your plans that exciting?” Paper inquired, amused.
“…Noooo…” OJ said innocently.
“You just can’t wait to show me my birthday present?”
“…No.” he said a little too quickly.
“You don’t have to get me anything, you know. Your company is more than enough.”
“Mmm, but I want to get you something," OJ protested.
“What did you get me?”
“Secret. Can’t tell you until you finish breakfast.”
Paper just chuckled and continued to eat his breakfast. Afterwards, he brushed his teeth while OJ made the bed, and once he stepped out of the bathroom, he nearly dragged him towards the living room with excitement.
“You must be very proud of your gift this year!” Paper snickered as he sat down on their couch. OJ sat across from him, holding something behind his back that Paper chose not to comment on.
“I think you’ll love it!” OJ grinned, glee escaping into his voice as a voice crack.
“Alright, show me.”
“Close your eyes first… And hold out your hands.”
Paper nodded, doing exactly as told. OJ reached out for his hands yet didn’t let go of them. He felt some sort of flat object in between them.
“Open your eyes!”
At first, Paper was very confused, as OJ had just handed him a folded slip of paper. He looked at him with suspicion, but OJ’s smile didn’t change, so he chose to open it up.
It was… some sort of document?
‘Dear OJ,’
An email. Paper shuffled in his seat with uncertainty. Maybe it’s a booking for something…?
‘Your consultation has been booked for…’
What? Consultation? Surely he gave him the wrong thing.
But, as he continued to read, his eyes widened with surprise, and butterflies started to simmer in his stomach as he came to one conclusion. His eyes locked back into OJ, who had leant forward a bit.
“We’re getting you bottom surgery!” He blurted with joy.
What.
WHAT.
“W-what?” Paper squeaked.
“I’ll be paying for it," OJ continued. “I know how much you’ve wanted this, so I’ve been saving up for a couple of years so you can get this. Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
To say Paper was in shock was an understatement. In fact, he felt like he’d just been run over by a three-tonne truck driven by an alcoholic who thought it was currently paper hunting season. If he already wasn’t, he might’ve gone pale.
“B-but OJ!” Paper stammered. “Bottom surgery is so expensive! And it’s with your money—you don’t have to spend all that on me! Wouldn’t you want to get it for yourself? You’ve wanted this for as long as I have!”
“I know, but…” OJ started, lowering his tone and placing a hand on his heart. “Paper, you mean so much to me, and I want to show you how grateful I am for that.”
“You can do that without spending thousands of dollars! I know your hotel pays you that money, but you can’t go wasting it on someone else!” He cried. “Why not spend all that hard-earned money on something that’ll change your life?”
Paper expected OJ to protest some more like the stubborn glass he was. Maybe even try to force the consultation on him. A part of his mind even thought he might’ve given up then and taken his advice.
But instead, he just… took his hands in his and gave him an expression filled with the longing he could never get out of his mouth.
“Because you already did.”
Oh. Paper thought at the sudden solemnness of his tone.
“Paper… When I met you, I was a very different man. I was egotistical, competitive, self-centred… I hardly even knew myself. Looking back, I hardly even know why you kept by my side. I’d ignore you and your thoughts, feelings… God, I was such an ass. But even through all that… you stayed. Your kindness, strength and hospitality changed me little by little. You taught me compassion, how to care for others, and… myself. Through all my selfishness and hardships, you were the lighthouse that always led me to safety.
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am for that. I genuinely can’t. Now, I can’t even recognise my previous self. Now, I… own a hotel and respect and… everything I used to lack. All of... this is possible thanks to you. I won’t ever be able to repay what you’ve done for me even if you gave me a thousand years—this is the least I can do. But you changed my life. And… It’s my duty to change yours.”
Paper sat in stunned silence as the weight of his words sunk into his mind. He might’ve sat there forever if it weren’t for OJ’s gentle gaze reminding him where he was.
He couldn’t help the tears from welling in his eyes.
“Oh, you sap…”
Paper collapsed forward and gripped his husband in a tight hug, letting himself cry all over his glass. OJ gladly returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around him whilst patting his back. Soon after that, Paper couldn’t tell whether it was him or OJ sniffling.
“I love you." OJ muttered, muffled by his arm. Paper responded in a weak voice.
“I love you too.”