sigh sae sigh

Call it dramatic, but you were so sure you'd be happy today. Your mom had called you in the morning to wish you bright and early, promising that the pastries she'd sent over would arrive soon. (It hadn't. Lost in mail or something like that. Now you have to wait another day to enjoy it.) 

But that's okay, you can deal with no pastries until tomorrow. There are the other things you can't seem to overlook no matter how hard you try though. 

Like how you'd walked into the kitchen this morning, expecting balloons and confetti from your dear roommates, but instead had been met with Woonhak stuffing a whole chicken leg into his mouth and running off without sparing you a second glance. 

But it's Woonhak, and his absurdity can be excused away by his usual personality. 

Then it was Wonhee refusing to let you into her room and letting Sungho drag you out to a cafe—until he got a phone call in the middle of your nice little hangout and had to run off after suggesting you get lunch and buy some nice clothes with the notes he presses into your hand. While you appreciated the money, you did not appreciate being abandoned in the middle of a cafe to have a sad meal all alone while you swore people kept judging you from the corner of your eyes. 

You were so sure at least one of your other roommates would come back for you. If no one else, then Jaehyun. Always him. 

He's been looking out for you since the first day you got here, all bright-eyed and ambitious to start a new chapter of your life. He's your closest friend here; all you wanted was a wish, a hug at best. He's never been shy with affection—always reaching for your hand or ruffling your hair or throwing a hand around your shoulder, pulling you close. 

Not a single wish from him either. You know it hurts the most out of everyone, and you also know the bite is more pinched because a part of you knows there's a small crush blooming there for him. 

Fuck Myung Jaehyun—and fuck all your other so called friends too. You had slumped in your seat as you stared down at your empty tea cup.

The last straw was a three year old wobbling over to your sad state and offering you her cookie, saying, “You look sad.” You agree with her, and you appreciate her offering, but being called out by a toddler for being a joyless adult is not a fun experience. 

And then things just kept going wrong, one after another like the worst game of dominoes in the world.

Your car broke down, your heel snapped, then you got rained on the whole time on your forty-minute walk back home. You're pretty sure you looked like a wet cat dragging its tail across the carpet when you trudged back in, not even bothering to go into the living room before beelining for your bedroom and crawling into your sheets.

Gross. You're sopping from head to toe, and now you need to do your laundry tomorrow—if you don't get sick from mold poisoning first that is. 

It's a terrible, horrible day, and the clock is dangerously ticking close to midnight, and all you've done today is be miserable and be ignored by your friends. Your phone died halfway through the outing, you have no energy or will to plug into the socket, and your legs ache from the whole godforsaken journey. 

Through the layers of blankets, you hear the creak of your door, footsteps approaching in tentative rhythm. 

“Hi,” a soft voice arrives, hesitant, and you feel someone stand above you. 

A part of you wants to keep sulking, try and see if they'll get tired of it and leave. But then there's a gentle hand removing the blanket off of you—Jaehyun’s guilty eyes coming to view in your reddened ones, half your face swallowed into the bed.

“What?” you spit back, and it comes out more of a Bwah.

He seems to understand anyways. “So,” he begins, inviting himself over to sit next to you. “You’re going to get sick if you don't dry yourself up—”

“I don't care. I'll just die.”

Your response is bitter and annoyed. Who is he to care whether you get sick or not? He didn't even wish you a happy 20th, didn't even come in to check until the end of the day. He'd forgotten, and now he wants to make amends so he doesn't look like the bad guy.

Well, fat chance—he is the bad guy. And he's a terrible friend. 

“Y/N-ie—”

“Don't ‘Y/N-ie’ me, Myung Jaehyun, get out of my room if you're done pretending to be concerned.”

Jaehyun is stricken at that. His face morphs from remorse to a frown, sad around the edges.

Then, “I'm not pretending. I do care.” His fingers are tense where they graze yours, voice hurt. “We’re... Today just went all wrong.”

“Tell me about it. It was the crappiest ever.”

“No, not like that. Not whatever you’re thinking of,” he stays adamant, coaxing your chin to look at him. And then he's brushing your hair back, settling himself on the bed so you're laying facing each other. It sends a spike of electricity through you that you blame on water and heat. “Woonhak accidentally put sugar into the chicken.”

…

You blink. What?

“What?”

“Woonhak,” Jaehyun repeats, huffing like he finds the situation insane himself. “He was supposed to handle your birthday breakfast. But he messed up the salt and dumped sugar into the pan, and when you walked into the kitchen, poor kid panicked and ate the whole thing himself so you wouldn't accidentally get a taste of his shitty cooking.”

“Oh.”

“Wonhee feels bad she had to say no to you hanging out in her room, too. She was blowing balloons in there…ended up bursting half the pack and then Woonhak had to run to get her inhaler for her.”

Oh. There's a weird sense of guilt running through you now, for assuming your friends had any hurtful intentions at all, but Jaehyun, observant as ever, swoops in to soothe you. He doesn't mind that your face is dewy with rain, his thumb brushes at your cheek when he says, “She’s okay, just beating herself up for needing to buy a second set of balloons, and apparently Leehan doesn't know how to colour-match them or something.”

“And Sungho?”

“Yeah, he,” Jaehyun sighs at the bad luck. “He was going to keep you distracted until we had gotten everything ready, but then the cake went missing, the florist got hospitalised for food poisoning, we almost burnt down the kitchen trying to fix dinner, and then he had to run out to save us…”

And all of it sounds wacky enough to be a lie, but you've been able to read Jaehyun from a mile away. The guy wears his heart on his sleeve and his entire soul on his face. “You burnt down the kitchen?” you ask, forcing a glare. 

“Almost,” he corrects, booping your nose to distract you. 

“You suck,” you grumble, but you lean into the touch instinctively, needing warmth. “Get me a towel.”

Jaehyun's eyes brighten up at your demand, excited to help out in any way now. He knows where you keep your things, so it proves to be not a hassle at all to find. 

When he sits behind you to dry your hair without needing to be asked, it feels like the world is slowly returning to peace again. Not in a monumentary way that fixes things forever, more of a gentle bandaid over a wound. And then, he says, “I wanted today to be good, y’know. I was hoping you'd be the happiest you ever were. Sorry for fucking it up for you.”

“You didn't fuck it up.” You shake your head. “It's not over yet. And you're here now, drying me off like some rabid cat you brought back from the street.”

Jaehyun giggles at your attempt to lift the mood. “You're satisfied by just this? So you don't want your present?”

Your head swivels around at breakneck speed. “Present!?”

He rolls his eyes playfully at your quick change in demeanour. “Later. When you're less drenched.”

You huff and pout, crossing your arms to turn away. The least he could do after putting you through that rollercoaster of emotions is get you something you like. Your mind is already twisting through all the possibilities of what it could be. A new album for your collection? That bracelet you've had your eye on since forever? Maybe tickets to the amusement park, like you've been hinting at for a while now, wanting to go with him. 

Jaehyun tries to get you to look at him, mumbling your name repeatedly to get your attention. You're too stubborn to give in now, even if your anger has melted away into warm excitement by now. It's just nice to be here with him at all. 

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” you hear Jaehyun whisper into your ear, the towel muffling the sound a little but doing nothing to stop the sparks shooting down your spine. His breath ghosts against skin, ticklish.

It's pure impulse that you turn your head to see him, and it's coincidental that he's a millimeter away from you, looking just as surprised, but making no move to widen the distance. 

He's right there. Looking all soft with his curly brown hair and rosy cheeks and fuck, you might just kiss away that pout on his lips if he doesn't stop you. 

And he doesn't. He's never stopped you now that you think of it, always a supporter of your whims—always your partner in crime. He's leaning in before you know it, and the sheets are bunched up within your fist, a hand at your jaw tilting it, his mouth on yours—

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Y/N!”

Woonhak’s loudspeaker-mouth ruins the moment, the door slamming on the side-wall, and suddenly there's a whole ocean of distance between you and your best friend. Your best friend who you would have really liked to kiss and turn into something more. 

But now Woonhak is barrelling into your personal space and throwing himself into a hug, pulling you against him even though your clothes are nowhere near dry. “We’re so sorry we messed up. We were trying to make it amazing for you and ended up doing the opposite, please don't be mad,” he whines, worrying that you were about to cut him off for eating your chicken. 

Wonhee, having deemed it safe to enter now that she can use Woonhak as a human shield if your wrath presented itself, also creeps up behind you to hug you. Then comes Leehan, who practically ragdolls himself and drags all four of you down into the bed, stacked up on top of one another, barely able to get your complaints out. 

“You're killing her on her birthday, let the poor girl make it to twenty-one,” Sungho’s chiding voice filters in through the gaps in the human-ball. Jaehyun cackles at the sight, then when he can't help but join in, bear hugs the entire group with arms as wide as he can make it. An exasperated Sungho follows suit when he reaches for him as well. 

It's suffocating, in a weirdly comfy way. The weight of people you love around you, on you, everywhere. So much love that you just want to squeeze them to oblivion, with uncontained affection. 

Through it all, you feel Jaehyun's fingertips grazing yours, looping around your pinky like a secret. Or like a promise to continue where you'd left off earlier. 

So you may have suffered through rain and dirt today, but it's okay. Because it's worth it when you have friends who pour their love into you—enough to swallow sugary chicken on your behalf, fight through their shitty lung capacity just to get you your balloons, and even almost burn down the house to make you happy. You have Myung Jaehyun to tell you that you're loved while he dries your hair for you, not minding any of the mess.

It's a good birthday, you realise. Everything feels right in the world again. 

Maybe turning twenty isn't all that bad after all. 

a/n: hehe i hope this was fun to read, and everyone who made it till the end pls do go slide into @luvbinnies milo's inbox and wish them a wonderful birthday and be really annoying about it too :D !! love youuuuu

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