(his first thought had been a pack of cigarettes (primarily because if it were jiho’s birthday, he’d probably be content with furthering his downward spiral into a habit he really ought to quit), but he thought it’d be much kinder to consider mika’s health among other valid reasons for not gifting a sort-of-friend a box of death.
so. jiho’s first and only good idea flew out of the running—and his own pack, in the thinking process, had been effectively depleted, one too many whittled to ashes over the course of a smoke break that was supposed to be ten minutes long. even if he wanted to just give up and hand a pack of cigarettes over, he couldn’t after all, because he’d already torn the plastic wrapping off of the one he considered giving mika and—)
jiho clamps his eyes shut. his head sort of hurts and he wants to blame it on the amount of time he spent thinking about decent gifts and the futility of life earlier today.
he’d toiled through a lot of deliberation for someone who, at most, probably considers jiho tolerable. sure, they share way too many drinks together and if jiho were being blackmailed with his innermost secrets, he’d have sufficient reason to suspect mika first, but a birthday’s a special day and jiho does sort of kind of maybe want to appreciate his sort of kind of maybe friend on it.
his lighter hisses at him and fizzles into nothing. nice. probably a sign that he should really, really consider quitting.
there is a different present sitting heavy and obtrusive in the pocket of his flannel and jiho thinks if anything that it’s probably a worse gift than a carton of marlboro reds. he’s at a loss at this point though, and he really just wants to stop thinking the idea to death. what’s done is done and jiho’s making a walk-by stop to get this over with so he doesn’t have to feel embarrassed any longer.
“hey,” he calls out to mika, shoving the defunct lighter into his back pocket and fumbling instead with a badly wrapped (literally a makeshift ribbon tied out of a handful of his mother’s embroidery threads) box of white chocolate cookie pepero and a slip of paper that reads ‘ONE ‘FIRST PERSON TO PET HWANG JIHO’S FUTURE PET DOG’ VOUCHER’ taped onto it. “this is the next best thing i could find to, you know, cigs, but uh… yeah, okay.“
jiho fidgets, gaze flickering from mika’s face to a distant rooftop. he lets out a low exhale.
“alright, well! have a good rest of your life. drinks on me next time.“
his present mannerisms are stiff and uncoordinated but he’s genuine in his intentions, evident in the way his expression breaks into a lopsided grin in spite of himself.
“oh yeah, and happy birthday, mika.”
Mika is minding his own business (a rare occurrence that happens only once in a blue moon) when he spots Jiho out of the corner of his eye. By now, the other man has become a semi-constant fixture in his life, at least when Mika’s feeling particularly down in the dumps. He’s pretty sure Jiho’s on some sort of a downwards spiral as well (or maybe it’s just Mika’s influence) and the amount of times he’s found Jiho waiting for him already at the bar is getting a bit too much even from his biased mind.
Still, for all of their time spent being what is likely very bad for each other, Jiho’s been a good ear for Mika. And the problems he cries about do have some merit to them, unlike what Mika’s used to hearing back home. So at the very least Mika doesn’t mind being around him anymore. He maybe even likes it.
Though he has no idea what Jiho thinks of him—if he were Jiho, he would hate himself. Going up to him in public seems like a pretty big step, considering the last time they interacted in public Jiho said he had to go feed his plant in an attempt to get away from Mika.
His expression betrays his surprise when Jiho makes an obviously very nervous stride right up to him. The small box in his hand betrays his intentions, though it takes a moment for Mika to remember how Jiho even knows when his birthday is (it was a few days ago when Mika quite literally cried, again, about how lonely he was, and his fear about having no one around for his birthday—he dearly hopes Jiho doesn’t remember anything else about that night except for his date of birth.)
“Thank you?” Mika says, not intending for it to come out like a question. Jiho very obviously avoids his gaze and Mika flips the box over. Pepero, huh. A knock-off of what he’s used to, but it’s the thought that matters. The slip of paper is a bit more interesting, and he lets out a small laugh, both at what’s written on it and Jiho’s fumbling attempt to explain why he wrote it in the first place.
“… Yeah. It’s better than cigs.” He smiles. And then before his brain can scream You’re just going to make it even more awkward, he puts one arm over Jiho’s shoulders and brings him into an incredibly clumsy hug. It only lasts half a second at most, and Mika’s pretty sure his face is bright red, but his smile doesn’t drop from his face.
“I would never make you pay for my drinks, but, um… thank you. I’ll… see you soon and stuff. Thank you again. Really.” Okay, now he’s just sounding like Jiho, repeating things, which means it’s time to stop talking.
