DO NOT COPY
The morning sun had barely begun to stretch its golden arms across your windowsill when your phone buzzed — a soft vibration against the quiet. You blinked sleep from your eyes, rolled over with a groggy grunt, and squinted at the notification. A message from Kairo. Your sleepy expression didn’t last long. Not after reading:
“Baby, it’s my birthday today, will you come? I’ll pick you up if you want — I just really want to be with you. My mom prepared a lot of delicious foods and desserts, and it would mean so much to have you here with me.”
That alone would've made your heart do a little somersault. His messages always had that effect — so simple, but warm, soft-edged with sincerity. You could picture his face even through the screen, his voice a little husky from just waking up, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he pressed send.
But it wasn’t just the message. It was what followed.
The image.
You tapped it open — and nearly forgot how to breathe.
There he was — Kairo, your boyfriend, your flirty menace of a man — looking like a Greek god unwrapped for someone's private celebration. His body, sculpted and gleaming under soft light, was partially draped in bold red cloth that clung in all the right ways and revealed just enough to turn your sleepy morning into a full-body blush. His silver hair fell messily over his forehead, his eyes glinting with mischief and intent, and that mouth — curved in that familiar, cocky, teasing little smile.
You sat up straighter, your heart suddenly wide awake.
The red fabric trailed over his chest and wrapped low over his hips, and somehow, impossibly, he made it look like a birthday gift. One hand was raised as if caught mid-pose, the other relaxed, casual — like he wasn’t even trying, and yet he looked like temptation incarnate.
Your phone buzzed again.
“I’m the dessert, too. But you can unwrap me later. ”
You choked. Choked. And then laughed — hard — hand over your mouth, face burning.
This was so Kairo. Always dramatic. Always flirty. Always knowing exactly what to say or do to make your heart race and your thoughts scatter. And yet beneath all the teasing, you knew the truth of what he said earlier — he really did want you there. He always wanted you close, and today, on his birthday, that meant more than ever.
You laid back against the pillow, phone still in your hand, the photo still burned into your vision.
And suddenly, you needed to see him. To be there. To laugh at his antics in person. To eat what his mom prepared and steal glances at him across the table. To kiss that smirk right off his face when no one was looking. To remind him that even though he joked and teased — you adored him. Every flirt. Every grin. Every bare-skinned, red-wrapped inch of him.
So you typed back quickly:
“On my way, birthday boy. But if I show up and you're actually wearing that in front of your mom, I’m turning right back around.”
He replied a second later:
“Only for your eyes, baby. But tonight, you’re unwrapping me slowly.”