“Found it!” Kyungsoo bellows from his study, running (almost stumbling) towards Jongin, his arms outstretched and his fingers trembling with the remnants of a torn-up piece of paper.

Jongin huffs – eyes twinkling, skin crinkling – towards his lover, and he smiles under his breath as Kyungsoo squeezes the paper into his clenched fist.

“There, it says two cups of sugar! I was right!” Kyungsoo laughs, before elbowing Jongin.

“All right, all right,” Jongin pats Kyungsoo’s head – hair falling in auburn clumps with fragments of maroon dye and gold highlights done up specially for the new year. “Two cups then,” Jongin says before dumping a load of sugar into a plastic bowl, flour powdering the white walls of the kitchen with a whiter, purer bliss.

“Hey! I just cleaned!”

vvv.

Maybe it was the extra load of sugar, or the missing flour that now begins to clump up against the kitchen tiles, but the cake turns out to be a complete flop, and Jongin sighs as he dumps the watery remains of what was going to be his icing. “Well, that was a complete waste of time.”

“Not to mention a waste kitchen resources,” Kyungsoo chimes.

“Yeah, great,” Jongin rolls his eyes, drawing up a stool next to the other, his fingers lacing into his palm. He traces the lines of Kyungsoo’s skin steadily, down to his wrists and then around his arm, his chest leaning against the other’s – breathing heavily, daunting heartbeats and everything.

Outside, the air is thick with humidity, saggy clouds, and the burning blue of a new sky. In the distance a wind chime glistens against sunlight, and chirps along to the sound of morning leaves rustling and birds singing.

Wind brushes cheeks and palms only very lightly, and the white paint of the house peels off just a little bit.

Jongin smiles, “want to buy a cake instead?”

“Of course.”