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Renjun had just managed to get one foot into the bathroom when he heard it. A scream.
Not the kind that meant someone had stubbed a toe or dropped a glass or the one that came with laughter, either. This one was sharp and panicked and loud enough to make the walls of the apartment seem to vibrate.
Then came the words, muffled but unmistakable.
“Fuck! No, fucking no!”
And then, even louder, as if the person saying it had just realized the full scale of their own disaster.
“Renjun will fucking kill me!”
Renjun stopped dead in the doorway of the bathroom and stared at the ceiling for a long, exhausted second.
He had been on his way to the toilet. That was all. A moment in which he would not have to think about anyone else’s problems for at least sixty seconds. Apparently, the universe had other plans.
He closed his eyes.
“I can’t even shit in peace,” he muttered to himself, and then, with the weary resignation of a man who already knew his day had gone to hell, he turned around and headed back toward the living room.
The apartment was too quiet now which usually meant a bad sign.
Renjun stepped into the living room and immediately knew something was wrong.
Donghyuck was standing in the middle of the room looking like he had seen a ghost, or perhaps had become one. His face had gone pale in a way that made him look almost translucent, and his eyes were wide with the kind of horror that only came from realizing you had made a mistake so catastrophic it might alter the course of your life.
In his hands, he was holding a paper-covered bundle or what had once been a paper-covered bundle. Now it looked damp, or soaked, actually. The wrapping had gone limp and dark in places, and one corner of it had collapsed in on itself as if it had given up trying to remain presentable.
Renjun’s gaze moved slowly from Donghyuck’s face to the ruined package. Then to the table and back to Donghyuck. He didn’t say anything but he didn’t need to.
Donghyuck made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a prayer.
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “I’m so sorry. Don’t kill me. I’m gonna make it up to you. I swear I’m gonna make it up to you.”
Renjun still didn’t speak he just stared.
The package in Donghyuck’s hands was the one Renjun had spent over a month making.
A journal.
Not just any journal, either. It had been carefully assembled by hand, page by page, photo by photo, memory by memory. Renjun had spent evenings cutting paper, arranging pictures, writing little notes in the margins, choosing the right colors, the right textures, the right little details that would make it feel like more than a gift.
It was supposed to be for Jaemin, for his birthday.
For the man Renjun had been with for four years, the man who was almost his fiance, the man Renjun had started to think might be about to propose soon because he had been asking strange, thoughtful questions about the future lately. Questions about where they would live, about what kind of ring Renjun liked. About whether Renjun imagined them growing old in the same apartment or somewhere quieter, somewhere with more light.
Renjun had noticed that and he would lie if he said that he didn’t start thinking about proposing too. Not yet, though. He wanted more time, plan it better and more certainty that he could make it perfect.
So he had made the journal instead.
A gift full of their life together - their first trip and stupid selfies. The blurry photo from the night they got caught in the rain and laughed until they couldn’t breathe. The ticket stub from the movie they both hated but stayed through anyway because they were too stubborn to leave. The little pressed flower Renjun had found in a book and kept because Jaemin had once said he liked things that were fragile but survived.
It had been beautiful, personal and in Renjun’s mind, one of the most precious things he had ever made.
And now it was wet.
Donghyuck looked like he might actually faint.
“I didn’t mean to,” he said, voice cracking. “I was just trying to move it and then- and then I-”
Renjun finally looked at him properly. Donghyuck was still talking, still apologizing, still repeating himself like if he said sorry enough times the universe might reverse itself out of pity. Renjun didn’t hear most of it.
He was looking at the journal. His chest tightened. He crouched down slowly, almost mechanically, and reached out with shaking fingers.
Donghyuck made a strangled noise. “Renjun, don’t,”
Renjun had already touched it. The paper was damp and soft under his fingertips. One of the pages stuck slightly to his skin and he could feel the damage in the texture alone.
Then, very suddenly, he was crying. He didn’t even know when it started.
One second he was staring at the ruined journal, and the next his vision had gone blurry and hot tears were spilling down his face before he could stop them. It was ridiculous, really, it was only a gift. Only paper and glue and photographs and ink.
To him however, it wasn’t only that - it was time, effort, it was love made visible. Now it was gone.
Donghyuck immediately dropped into a crouch beside him, hands hovering awkwardly over Renjun’s back before settling there in a frantic, apologetic pat.
“I’m sorry,” he kept saying. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll fix it. I’ll buy you another one. I’ll do anything. Please don’t hate me.”
Renjun let out a shaky breath and pressed the heel of his hand against his eyes. He hated that he was crying and that Donghyuck was seeing him cry. He hated that the journal had mattered this much and he couldn’t do anything to undo it.
For a minute, he just stayed there, crouched on the floor, shoulders trembling, while Donghyuck kept apologizing in a voice that sounded more and more desperate with every passing second. Then Renjun stood up slowly. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and looked at Donghyuck with such a hard, flat expression that Donghyuck visibly flinched.
Renjun didn’t say a word. He just held the look but it was enough.
Donghyuck swallowed hard and nodded once, as if he understood exactly what that expression meant.
Donghyuck was going to pay for this somehow - not in money, not even in a way that could truly make up for the journal, but he was going to suffer.
Renjun turned away before he could say something he would regret. He grabbed his wallet, keys and he left the apartment with the grim determination of a man going to war.
The store he chose was the most luxurious one he knew.
Not because he liked being extravagant, exactly, but because if he was going to replace a ruined gift, he was going to do it properly. He was going to buy things that were thoughtful, useful, and so clearly chosen with care that no one could look at them and think they had been picked up in a panic.
He moved through the aisles with the focused intensity of someone on a mission.
First, the chapstick. It was absurdly expensive for something so small, but Jaemin was obsessed with it. He used it constantly, always borrowing Renjun’s and then pretending he hadn’t. Renjun had once caught him putting it in his pocket like a thief and had only laughed because Jaemin had looked so pleased with himself.
Then the cat outfits. Luna, Lucy, and Luke were Jaemin’s entire world whenever he was home. He adored them with the kind of soft, ridiculous devotion that made Renjun’s heart ache in the best way. If there was a tiny sweater or a silly little accessory that would make Jaemin laugh, Renjun was going to buy it.
He paused in front of a shelf of drinks and considered the whiskey for a moment. Jaemin had mentioned wanting to try a certain bottle once, and Renjun had been tempted to get it. Then he remembered Jeno saying something about bringing a present from Scotland. Knowing Jeno, that probably meant whiskey.
Renjun exhaled through his nose and moved on.
Instead, he grabbed the bath set. The one with the ridiculous whipped lotion and whipped shower gel and all the other absurdly named products that sounded like they had been invented by someone who had never once taken a bath in their life. Renjun stared at the packaging for a second, offended on principle. Who came up with this stuff? Still, Jaemin liked nice things. He liked being pampered and little luxuries that made ordinary evenings feel softer.
Then snacks, many snacks. The ones Jaemin liked best, the ones he always reached for first, the ones he pretended he was just having one of and then somehow finished the whole bag. Renjun added more than he probably needed, but that was the point. This was not a practical gift but a love letter in objects.
He found a big, lovely basket and put that in too.
By the time he paid, his arms were full and his chest still felt tight. He had not stopped thinking about the journal once. Even in the store, even while choosing things, even while standing in line, he kept seeing the wet pages in his mind. Kept imagining the photos ruined and feeling the sting of tears he had tried so hard to swallow.
When he got back to the apartment, he went straight to his room. He shut the door. He sat down on the floor and started arranging everything in the basket with the kind of careful precision that only came from trying not to think too hard about how much something had hurt.
He placed the chapstick, the cat outfits, the bath set and the snacks inside. He tucked in around the edges so they looked abundant and warm and generous. He adjusted the ribbon and fixed the angle of the handle.
He stepped back, looked at it, and immediately noticed that one side was slightly uneven. Of course it was.
Renjun pressed his lips together and fixed it.
Jaemin liked things to be punctual, sometimes even early. He liked helping with setup before parties. He liked being the first one to notice when something was off and the first one to quietly make it better. They were supposed to meet before the birthday party, just the two of them. One small moment together before the rest of the evening began. Renjun had liked that idea so much it had made him smile.
Then he heard a noise outside his room.
“No, Jaemin, no!” Renjun thought, already exhausted.
Then the door burst open. Donghyuck stormed in, looking even more panicked than before, and hissed in a loud whisper, “Jaemin is here.”
Renjun looked up sharply.
“What?”
Donghyuck pointed vaguely toward the hall like that would explain everything. “He’s here. He came early.”
Renjun stared at him for one stunned second, then stood so fast he nearly knocked the basket over.
“You need to do something,” he said, voice low and urgent. “You need to make sure he does not come into this room.”
Donghyuck nodded so hard it was almost a bow. “Yes. Yes, absolutely. I will handle it.”
Then he disappeared.
Renjun stood there for a second, breathing hard, staring at the basket like it might suddenly become more perfect if he looked at it long enough. It didn’t. He could still see the flaws - the imperfect bow, the fact that this was not the journal and it was gone.
He swallowed hard.
“Get it together,” he muttered to himself.
He picked up the basket and went to the living room. Renjun had to remind himself, as he walked into the living room with the basket held carefully in both hands, that he was not currently dying. It felt close, though.
His heart was beating too fast. His face still felt hot from crying earlier, and the memory of the ruined journal kept flashing through his mind in ugly little bursts. He could still hear Donghyuck’s frantic apologies. He hated that he was still thinking about it.
Renjun stepped into the living room and immediately found him.
Jaemin was standing near the couch, looking as if he had just arrived and was already trying to make himself useful. He had that familiar, soft expression on his face - the one that always made Renjun feel like the world had gone a little gentler just by virtue of Jaemin being in it. His hair was slightly messy from the trip over, his sleeves were pushed up, and he looked warm and real and heartbreakingly familiar.
The moment Jaemin saw Renjun, his face brightened.
“Hey,” he said, smiling. “You’re early.”
Renjun let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “You’re the one who’s early.”
Jaemin’s smile widened, sheepish and affectionate. “I know. I just wanted to help.”
Renjun’s chest tightened in a way that had nothing to do with the ruined journal and everything to do with the fact that this was Jaemin. Always showing up with his whole heart, always trying to make things easier, always making Renjun feel like he was loved in a hundred quiet ways at once.
Donghyuck was nowhere in sight. Renjun silently thanked whatever force had convinced him to send Donghyuck on damage control duty.
The apartment was quiet in that soft, expectant way that came before a birthday celebration really began. There were signs of preparation everywhere - small details Renjun had arranged earlier, little touches that made the room feel warmer than usual. Jaemin’s gaze moved around the space, taking it all in, and Renjun watched him carefully, trying to gauge whether anything looked off. He hoped not.
Jaemin looked back at him. “You okay?”
Renjun blinked. “Why?”
“You look like you’re thinking very hard.”
Renjun almost laughed at that. Thinking very hard was one way to describe it - trying not to fall apart was another.
“I’m fine,” he said, and because he knew Jaemin would hear the lie in that if he pushed too hard, he added, “Just tired.”
Jaemin’s expression softened immediately, as if he had decided not to question it right now. “Then I’ll be gentle with you.”
That should not have made Renjun’s throat feel tight and yet it did. He looked away quickly and set the basket down on the table. Jaemin’s eyes followed it at once.
“What’s that?”
Renjun cleared his throat. “Your present.”
Jaemin’s eyebrows lifted. “Already?”
Renjun gave him a look. “You say that like I’m not allowed to give you your birthday gift before your birthday.”
“I’m just surprised,” Jaemin said, but he was smiling now, clearly pleased. “You didn’t have to.”
Renjun made a small, unimpressed sound. “Yes, I did.”
Jaemin laughed softly, and the sound eased something in Renjun’s chest, just a little.
Donghyuck chose that exact moment to reappear briefly in the doorway, glance between them, and then vanish again with the speed of a man who had learned the value of survival. Renjun ignored him. Jaemin, thankfully, seemed too focused on the basket to care.
He stepped closer, eyes bright with curiosity. “Can I open it now?”
Renjun nodded. “Go ahead.”
Jaemin did not need to be told twice.
He crouched slightly and began untying the ribbon with careful fingers, as if he understood instinctively that this was not just a gift but something Renjun had put together with intention. That alone made Renjun’s chest ache in a way he couldn’t quite name.
Jaemin lifted the lid and looked inside. For a moment, he didn’t speak. Then his face changed. In the way people’s faces changed when they were genuinely touched and trying not to show it too quickly because they didn’t want to embarrass the person who had given them the gift.
His eyes moved from item to item. He reached in and picked up the chapstick first, turning it over in his hand with a little smile. “You got this?”
Renjun nodded. “You use it all the time.”
Jaemin looked at him with that soft, fond expression that always made Renjun feel slightly exposed. “Because I keep stealing yours.”
“You absolutely do.”
Jaemin laughed, and the sound was warm enough to make Renjun’s shoulders loosen a little. Then Jaemin found the cat outfits.
His eyes widened. “Oh my god.”
Renjun watched him carefully. “Too much?”
“No,” Jaemin said immediately, already smiling. “No, this is perfect.”
He pulled one out and held it up, clearly imagining the cats in it already. “Luna is going to hate this.”
“She’ll survive.”
“Lucy will tolerate it for food.”
“Correct.”
“And Luke,” Jaemin said, grinning now, “will probably look offended for three full days.”
Renjun snorted despite himself. Jaemin looked delighted by that reaction, as if making Renjun laugh was the best part of the gift so far.
The bath set made him pause, and then he let out a low, appreciative hum. “This is fancy.”
Renjun made a face. “It was annoyingly expensive.”
Jaemin’s smile turned softer. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
“But you did.”
Renjun looked down at the basket and shrugged one shoulder, suddenly embarrassed by how obvious his feelings were. “You like nice things.”
Jaemin’s gaze lingered on him for a second before he looked back into the basket. He found the snacks.
“Oh,” he said, and now he was definitely smiling. “You know me too well.”
Renjun’s mouth twitched. “Unfortunately.”
Jaemin laughed again, and this time the sound was so bright and easy that Renjun almost forgot, for one brief second, about the journal.
Jaemin lifted the basket a little, examining the arrangement, and his expression shifted into something more tender. “You really thought about all of this.”
Renjun’s ears started to feel hot. “It’s just a present.”
“It’s not just a present.”
Renjun didn’t answer because Jaemin was right.
It wasn’t just a present - a replacement for something that had been lost.
Jaemin seemed to sense that there was something more underneath Renjun’s silence, but he didn’t push. Instead, he reached into the basket again and pulled out one of the smaller items.
Renjun’s stomach dropped and he froze. Then, with a groan of pure humiliation, he reached over and snatched the item back just long enough to peel the price tag off with his fingernail. “I knew I forgot something.”
Jaemin laughed, and Renjun laughed too, though his was more strained and embarrassed. He tried to set the item back in the basket neatly, but then he saw it - the bow, one side of it was slightly crooked.
His throat tightened instantly. He blinked hard, but it was too late. Jaemin saw it.
His smile faded immediately. “Renjun?”
Renjun tried to look away, but Jaemin was already setting the basket down carefully and stepping closer, his face full of concern.
“What happened?”
Renjun swallowed. He had not meant to cry again, he had really, truly not meant to. But the tears were already there, gathering fast and hot, and now that Jaemin was looking at him like that - so worried, so gentle, so completely present - it was impossible to hold them back.
“There was another present,” Renjun said, voice breaking on the first word. “A better one and Donghyuck is a prick! He ruined it.”
Jaemin’s expression changed instantly. Renjun could see the moment he understood that this was not about the basket at all - about something that had mattered enough to make Renjun cry twice in one day.
Renjun shook his head, trying to keep himself together. “It was perfect. It was actually perfect, and he should never have been near it, and he’s the biggest idiot alive, and-”
“Renjun.”
The way Jaemin said his name was soft but firm, and it stopped him mid-sentence. Renjun looked at him. Jaemin stepped closer and gently touched his arm. “Shh.”
Renjun’s breath caught.
“Don’t tell me if you don’t want to,” Jaemin said quietly.
Renjun stared at him and then, because he was already too emotional to pretend otherwise, he let out a shaky breath and nodded once. Jaemin’s face softened even more. He reached out and pulled Renjun into a hug before Renjun could even think to resist - immediate and warm and so familiar it almost hurt.
Renjun stood there stiffly for half a second, then gave in and let himself lean into it. Jaemin held him tightly, one hand resting between his shoulder blades, the other pressing gently at the back of his neck in a way that made Renjun feel anchored.
“You don’t have to explain,” Jaemin murmured.
Renjun closed his eyes. He hated how close he was to crying again, how much he wanted to tell Jaemin everything and how safe this felt.
After a moment, Jaemin pulled back just enough to look at him.
“Did it mean a lot to you?” he asked softly.
Renjun gave a tiny, helpless nod. Jaemin’s expression turned unbearably tender.
“Then I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry it got ruined.”
Renjun let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh but wasn’t. “It’s not your fault.”
“I know,” Jaemin said. “But I’m still sorry.”
Renjun looked down, embarrassed by how much that helped. Jaemin brushed his thumb lightly over Renjun’s hand. “You made this basket for me?”
Renjun nodded again. Jaemin glanced at it, then back at him. “You really did all this?”
Renjun made a small sound of protest. “Of course I did.”
Jaemin smiled, and this time it was the kind of smile that made his whole face look softer. “It’s beautiful.”
Renjun blinked. Jaemin continued, voice warm and steady. “The basket, the gifts, all of it. You always know exactly what I like. You always pay attention to the little things.”
Jaemin’s fingers curled gently around his. “I can feel your love in it.”
That was the thing that finally made Renjun’s eyes burn again. He looked away quickly, trying to hide it, but Jaemin only squeezed his hand.
“You know me so well,” Jaemin said. “It’s perfect because it’s you.”
Renjun gave a watery laugh. “I’m such a crybaby.”
Jaemin’s mouth curved. “That’s okay. I’m lucky to be yours.”
Renjun’s ears went red immediately. Jaemin noticed, of course, and his smile turned teasing. “There you are.”
Renjun huffed a laugh and wiped at his face with the back of his hand. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
Renjun glared at him weakly. Jaemin only looked pleased with himself.
Then, more softly, he said, “What matters is that I get to spend today with the person closest to my heart.”
Renjun’s breath caught. Jaemin’s voice stayed gentle. “I would ditch the party and stay here with you all day if I thought you’d let me.”
Renjun gave a small, embarrassed laugh. “You know I wouldn’t.”
“I know,” Jaemin said, smiling. “I know you put your whole heart into this.”
Renjun looked down at the basket again, at the imperfect bow, at the carefully chosen things inside it, at the little signs of effort that had survived the day. Jaemin leaned in and kissed his forehead, quick and soft.
He said, almost like a secret, “You give me presents every day just by seeing me.”
Jaemin’s thumb brushed once over his knuckles.
“And that,” he said, “is priceless.”
Renjun stood there for a moment after Jaemin said that, completely unable to move.
It was ridiculous, really. He had heard Jaemin say sweet things before. He had heard him be affectionate, teasing, earnest, and soft in all the ways that made Renjun fall in love with him over and over again. There were some moments that landed differently, as if the words had found a place inside him that was already tender and simply pressed there until it hurt.
This was one of those moments.
He looked at Jaemin, and Jaemin looked back at him with that same calm, open expression, as if he had no idea he had just nearly undone him completely. Renjun let out a shaky breath and laughed under it, because if he didn’t laugh, he was going to cry again and he was already embarrassed enough for one day.
“You’re impossible,” he muttered.
Jaemin’s smile turned soft and fond. “You still love me.”
Renjun made a face. “Unfortunately.”
“Liar.”
Renjun opened his mouth to argue, but the words died before they could form because Donghyuck suddenly appeared in the doorway again, looking like a man who had spent the last hour personally bargaining with fate. He took one look at the two of them and immediately stopped. Renjun, still red-eyed and trying to recover, narrowed his eyes at him.
Donghyuck raised both hands in surrender. “I’m leaving.”
“You should,” Renjun said flatly.
“I know.”
“And if you come near me again today, I will actually kill you.”
Donghyuck winced. “Fair.”
Jaemin, to his credit, looked amused rather than alarmed. “What did you do?”
Donghyuck made a strangled noise. “Nothing important.”
Renjun turned his head slowly.
Donghyuck immediately corrected himself. “I mean- I did something terrible, but I’m trying to be respectful of the emotional atmosphere.”
Renjun stared at him and Donghyuck stared back. Then, with the solemnity of a man accepting his fate, Donghyuck bowed his head. “I am deeply sorry.”
Renjun’s expression did not change. Donghyuck sighed. “I’ll go.”
The apartment fell quiet again. Jaemin watched him leave, then turned back to Renjun with a small smile. “He looks terrified.”
“He should be.”
Jaemin’s smile widened. “You’re very scary when you’re upset.”
Renjun gave him a look. “I’m not scary.”
Jaemin tilted his head. “You were crying and glaring at him at the same time.”
“That’s not scary. That’s just emotional.”
“It was a little scary.”
Renjun huffed, but there was no real heat in it. Not with Jaemin standing so close and looking at him like he was something precious. The birthday cake was still waiting on the table.
A small chocolate one, just enough for the two of them to taste without ruining their appetite for the bigger cake later at the party. Renjun had chosen it carefully for exactly that reason. He knew Jaemin liked sweets, but he also knew he would be disappointed if he got too full before the main celebration.
Jaemin noticed the cake and smiled. “You made that too?”
Renjun shook his head. “No. I bought it.”
“Still counts.”
Renjun rolled his eyes, but he was smiling now too.
Jaemin moved toward the table and looked at the cake with obvious delight. It was simple, neat, and decorated just enough to feel special without being excessive. Renjun had even made sure the candles were the right kind - small, elegant, not the cheap ones that bent awkwardly when lit.
He had wanted this moment to feel gentle.
Renjun lit the candles while Jaemin watched him with a soft expression that made his hands feel clumsy. When the flame caught, the room filled with a tiny golden glow.
Renjun stepped back and looked at Jaemin. “Happy birthday.”
Then, because he didn’t know what else to do with the feeling in his chest, he began to sing.
His voice was soft at first, a little uncertain, but it steadied as he went on. He sang the birthday song in the warm, private way that only made sense when it was just the two of them, when the world outside the apartment could wait a little longer. Jaemin watched him the whole time. By the end, he was smiling so gently that Renjun had to look away before he got overwhelmed.
“Make a wish,” Renjun said.
Jaemin leaned forward and blew out the candles in one breath. The little flames disappeared.
For a second, the room was dim and quiet and full of the smell of chocolate and wax and something sweetly domestic that made Renjun’s chest ache in the best possible way.
Jaemin clapped softly once, then looked at the cake with open admiration. “This is adorable.”
“It’s small,” Renjun said.
“It’s perfect.”
Renjun gave him a skeptical look. “You say that about everything I do.”
“Because everything you do is perfect.”
Renjun made a helpless sound and turned away before his face could get any redder. Jaemin laughed, clearly delighted by the reaction.
He cut a small piece of cake and took a bite, then immediately closed his eyes in appreciation. “Oh, this is really good.”
Renjun’s shoulders loosened a little. “It better be.”
Jaemin pointed the fork at him. “You’re very demanding for someone who just gave me a basket full of gifts.”
Renjun folded his arms. “I’m allowed.”
Jaemin smiled around another bite of cake, then set the fork down and reached for the basket again. Renjun’s stomach tightened. Jaemin lifted the basket carefully and looked at it again, as if he wanted to take in every detail one more time. His fingers brushed over the ribbon, the handle, the arrangement of the items inside.
Then he paused. Renjun noticed immediately.
“What?”
Jaemin looked up. “You fixed the bow.”
Renjun blinked. “What?”
“The bow,” Jaemin repeated, smiling a little. “You fixed it after noticing it was uneven.”
Renjun stared at him. He had not realized Jaemin had seen that, he had thought it was too small to matter.
Jaemin’s expression softened. “You always notice everything.”
Renjun looked down, suddenly embarrassed again. “It was crooked.”
Jaemin’s smile turned fond. “And you fixed it.”
Renjun shrugged one shoulder. “It would have bothered me.”
“I know.”
That simple answer made Renjun’s throat tighten, because Jaemin did know.
He knew Renjun’s habits, the way his mind worked. He knew how Renjun could be meticulous about tiny details, how he could become quietly distressed by something as small as a misplaced ribbon or a tag left on a gift. He knew all of that and loved him anyway.
Jaemin set the basket down and reached for Renjun’s hand.
“I’m sorry about the other present,” Jaemin said again, more softly this time.
Renjun shook his head. “You don’t need to keep apologizing.”
“I know.”
“But?”
“But I can tell it mattered.”
Renjun looked at him. Jaemin’s thumb brushed lightly over his knuckles. “And I know you made this one because you wanted me to feel loved.”
Renjun’s eyes stung again, but he blinked hard and refused to let the tears fall this time.
Jaemin smiled at him, small and warm. “You succeeded.”
Renjun let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “You’re too good at this.”
“At what?”
“Making me feel things.”
Jaemin’s eyes softened. “That’s because you feel things very dramatically.”
Renjun gave him a scandalized look. “I do not.”
“You do.”
“I’m normal.”
Jaemin’s expression said he did not believe that for one second. Renjun tried to glare, but it fell apart halfway into a smile. Jaemin leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth, quick and affectionate, then pulled back just enough to look at him properly.
“I love it,” he said quietly.
Jaemin gestured toward the basket. “All of it. The thought you put into it. The way you know what I like. The way you always remember the little things. The way you make even a birthday gift feel like you’re holding my whole heart in your hands.”
Renjun stared at him, speechless. Jaemin’s voice stayed soft. “That’s what makes it perfect.”
Renjun swallowed hard. Now, sitting here with Jaemin beside him, with the cake between them and the basket on the table and the whole apartment wrapped in the quiet intimacy of the moment, he felt the last of his composure slipping. In a way that made his chest ache because he loved this man so much it sometimes felt impossible to contain.
Jaemin seemed to notice the shift in him immediately. He reached up and brushed his thumb under Renjun’s eye, catching the beginning of another tear before it could fall.
“There you go again,” he murmured.
Renjun laughed weakly. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
Renjun leaned into the touch despite himself. Jaemin smiled, then rested his forehead briefly against Renjun’s. “You’re allowed to be sad about the other gift.”
Renjun closed his eyes.
“I know,” Renjun said.
“But you don’t have to carry it alone.”
That was what made Renjun’s chest hurt and soften all at once. He had spent the whole day trying to fix something broken, trying to make sure the loss didn’t ruin the birthday, trying to keep his feelings tucked away where they wouldn’t spill out and embarrass him and Jaemin had seen all of it. He seen him.
Renjun opened his eyes again and looked at Jaemin, really looked at him, and found that his boyfriend was smiling at him with such quiet certainty that it almost made Renjun believe the day had been worth every painful minute.
Jaemin kissed his cheek, then sat back with a content little sigh and picked up his fork again. “You’re very responsible.”
“I am not.”
“You are when it comes to me.”
Renjun looked at him for a long second, then shook his head with a helpless smile. “You’re impossible.”
“But,” Jaemin said, taking another bite of cake, “you still love me.”
Renjun laughed, this time fully, and the sound felt like the first real breath he had taken all day. The party would eventually begin, there would be more people, more noise, more cake, more gifts, more laughter.
But for now, in this small quiet pocket of time, it was just the two of them. Renjun sat down beside Jaemin, shoulder to shoulder, and let himself lean in. Jaemin immediately shifted closer, as if that was the most natural thing in the world.
Maybe love was not always grand gestures or perfect plans or gifts that survived every disaster. Sometimes it was a ruined journal and a frantic replacement basket and a birthday cake shared in a quiet living room. Other times it was a hand held under the table. A forehead kiss, soft apology. A promise, spoken without needing to be said aloud, that even when things went wrong, they would still find their way back to each other.
Renjun rested his head lightly against Jaemin’s shoulder. Jaemin kissed the top of his hair. In the warm, gentle silence that followed, Renjun finally let himself believe that the day had turned out all right after all.