ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕪 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕, Beomjun

026

The day Yeonjun both yearns for and dreads finally arrives: Beomgyu returning home.

Yeonjun is frantic, trying his best to have everything prepared before the younger one gets here. Decorations of spirals, banners, and balloons are strewn across the room. He's tried to stick to a general theme of pink or related colours, but since this is the final colour he has left to teach Beomgyu, he's also been looser with that rule. A couple of things are labelled with the colour they are, like the purple and blue balloons hidden amongst the pink ones—a little reference to the labelled pencils.

On the dining table for two, a candle sits in the centre. The cherry blossom one Yeonjun bought earlier that week, its scent wafting into the air, flame flickering and small traces of smoke swirling from it.

The cake box sits on the kitchen counter beside the array of snacks and glasses waiting to be filled. Yeonjun had checked it when it arrived. It had to be perfect, exactly what he ordered. It had little swirls of white and pink, strawberries filling the spots between the perfectly spaced swirls. Across it, in cursive letters, is the words 'Happy Birthday'. The final 'Y' swipes beneath the entire phrase, a long, straight line that comes with practiced ease.

He stares over at the area before turning back to the couch, letting out a nervous breath as he tries to calm his nerves. He rearranges the gifts neatly arranged on the couch, back aching from the way he's hunched over. When he's done readjusting the plushie to sit more comfortably, holding a small gift in its arms, he straightens, analysing it. Satisfied, he nods.

He thought that with things going right he'd feel less nervous, shoulders able to loosen, but he doesn't, the skittering of insects still a steady chaos in his chest. He takes another breath, chest rising as warm air expands his lungs, and lets it out. He needs to remember to breathe, that's rule one. Everything will be that little easier if he just breathes.

Now all he needs to do is prepare the music.

He swipes through the playlist he created for today, a bunch of soft melodies stretching over two hours. He hadn't meant for it to be so long but he found himself enjoying the gentle tunes and chimes that lulled his heart. He presses shuffle, letting the soft notes of a piano dance in the air.

It feels so delicate, like how Beomgyu is to him. A delicate piece of luxury—something you only find once—one he wants to encase behind walls of safety to ensure it's never broken.

He hopes Beomgyu likes it. He tends to like songs that have an element of tenderness to them, where the message spills out through words or instruments alone. His songs in the group's shared playlist are the ones with an edge of vulnerability, whispered in their verses so only those closest hear them. It's the opposite of what Yeonjun listens to, but he likes them too.

He takes everything once he's done, a sense of pride washing over him. He hopes Beomgyu likes it, he's put a lot of effort into today and would have for it to be wasted.

Yeonjun's face drains and his relaxed smile drops. What if Beomgyu's tired and wants to rest and Yeonjun's about to bombard him with all this? He should've thought this through—but he didn't want to ruin the surprise by asking Beomgyu. What if Beomgyu hates it and feels pressured into sitting through the entire evening when he just wants to cozy up in bed.

Yeonjun's stupid, he should've asked even if it meant ruining the surprise. Beomgyu's likely had a long week, he won't want all of this on his day to finally relax.

Maybe Yeonjun has time to take it all down and shove the snacks in the fridge.

Of course, he doesn't. The world doesn't align like that and now he's going to look like a fool.