It was already past midnight: October 15th, KST. Heeseung’s 24th birthday.

By the time he returned home, the city outside had quieted into a soft, sleeping hum. He’d just finished a late rehearsal and a string of birthday schedule shoots. The faint echo of his footsteps trailed him down the hallway until he slid the key into the lock, stepping into a silence that felt… safe.

Then he noticed it—the gentle glow spilling from the kitchen.

The overhead lights were off, replaced by soft string lights draped along the cabinets, their reflection dancing across the countertop. In the center of the table sat a cake, slightly uneven, clearly handmade, with crooked sugar icing spelling:

Happy Birthday, Heeseung. ♡

For a moment, he froze in the doorway. The tension in his shoulders melted, replaced by a quiet laugh that barely brushed his lips.

You looked up from where you were lighting the last candle. “You took long enough,” you murmured. “I was starting to think the candles would melt first.”

He blinked. slow, tired, and yet utterly affectionate. With a few unhurried steps, he closed the distance, wrapping his arms around you from behind. The scent of sugar and vanilla mingled with the faint trace of sweat clinging to him from rehearsal.

He chuckled softly, “Of course it’s you,” he murmured. “You always make it feel like I never left home.”

You tilted your head. “That’s kind of the point, birthday boy.”

He laughed again, before pulling back to look at you. His eyes glimmered under the soft lights, a rare, quiet vulnerability in them.

“You know…” His voice softened, quieter than the booming stage persona of the day. “Every birthday before you—I almost forgot. But with you…” He smiled, a little crooked and wholly real. “I remember everything. the dumb jokes, our first bus ride home, you sneaking snacks into my bag before practice. you’re the best part of growing up.”

The candles flickered between you, painting the small kitchen in gold and gentle pink light. When he leaned in to blow them out, he didn’t make a wish—he didn’t need to. You were already there.