xlviii. Birthday Confessions & Regret Recessions I

“You’re older than me again.”

Sungjong proclaimed as he entered the kitchen. He swiped a finger at the plate of cake you’d cut for yourself, tasting the frosting he’d been hesitant to try before. Before, when the entire party started, and he looked like he had something to say. So, you were waiting.

“Whose idea was it anyway to remind us how old we are by making wax candles in the form of numbers? Were they too lazy to count or do they enjoy the ever-growing number constantly reminding people how much they’ve both done and not done in their lives?”

He complained and you laughed.

You’d been sung to. You’d blown out your candles. You’d opened your present — a pair of hot pink boxers courtesy of Niel and Ricky who, unfortunately, along with Yura and Minah, were unable to join you today. You yourself were about to join the others where they gathered in the living room, but not before hearing out Sungjong’s own, personal birthday congratulations for you. So, you were waiting.

And apparently, you didn’t have to wait long.

“Does this mean you don’t want a piece of cake or—?”

You gestured your slice towards him, to which he took from you without hesitation. 

“Cake transcends all ages.”

He said and you laughed again. 

He’d gotten quite the sense of humor recently, along with a longer fuse to what he personally calls his “Fits of Fury” — though the idea was originally implanted in his mind by Kyung. He was a lot calmer now, though more sarcastic overall. More confident, less arrogant. He’d grown into himself, in a sense. And you yourself wouldn’t claim to be the cause. 

Though he’d un-hesitantly claim you were.

Just as he would lay claim on his feelings, no longer scared of the ever-constant monster called “rejection” around every corner. 

“I like you.” 

He confessed again. 

“I like you and I’m not asking you to do anything about it. Because me, you would’ve if you meant to as I’m the farthest from being secretive about it. And, if I’m keeping count correctly, this is the third time I’ve actually said it out loud.” 

He paused, taking in your reaction with wide, alert eyes. 

“So, nothing? You don’t want to impulsively kiss me or confess your love to me?”

He shrugged, your wordless smile a clear enough answer for him — that shade of hot pink he’d seen last December now a dull red. Maybe he’d have seen it forever if he’d asked for more than. Maybe he’d have been happier holding your hand, pulling you close, his actions and his words matching so well he had to admit the thought was borderline terrifying. Maybe that and more. 

But, in the end, he didn’t have any regrets.

“That’s fine.” 

He said, because he was. 

“Because as I’ve reiterated through both words and actions, I like you. I like you and I’m not asking you to do anything about it.”

And there was something even scarier about that. 

About being “fine” when he never thought he would be. 

And, once more, you wouldn’t claim to be the cause of his seemingly nonexistent insecurities.

“Are you sure you’re younger than me? I can see some wisdom wrinkles forming up here,” you poked at the space between his brows, “and here,” then his eyes, “and here, too,” and his cheeks too.

Sungjong sarcastically laughed, swatting your hand away. “Wisdom wrinkles?”

“It’s an alliteration.” You claimed, “I did an English thing.”

And he couldn’t help but laugh, genuinely, at your ridiculous nature.

He couldn’t hate it, not matter how he tried — though he didn’t try very hard.

Speaking of love hate relationships, Jiyeon stomped her way into the kitchen abruptly, interrupting your and Sungjong’s following discussion of your past and his soon-to-be English teacher for this upcoming fall semester. Right in the middle of explaining how she’d receive the nickname “Ms. Twinkle,” Jiyeon snatched Sungjong’s cake right out of his hands, and his fork out of his mouth along with it. 

The two of you watched mystified as she exited the kitchen, the back door opening and then slamming shut behind her. And any question you could have asked about her behavior was answered as P.O came waltzing from the living room seconds later, a frown on his face as he silently took to the task of retrieving another slice of cake — his third piece. 

“Looks like there’s trouble in Paradise.” Sungjong whispered regrettably, his frown more for his stolen dessert than for the happy couple.

“I’m on it.” 

You saluted him before walking off after Jiyeon, but not before hearing him mumble out from beneath a sigh, “Tell her she can keep the cake.”

Jiyeon never looked like this. 

Like she didn’t give a damn.

Like she’d given up.

Like she’d had her heart broken too many times to try again.

It was an odd sight as you listened to her pour her feelings out right there on your back porch, on your day, making it about her own problems for once. Looking out for herself for once. She deserved your undivided attention not only because of that, but because she was your friend. The brutally honest, hold-no-bars kind with a soft spot for romance.  

So you gave it to her, easily letting her drag you down with her. 

“Jihoon,” she began, only to correct herself, her words more unclear and scrambled than you were used to, “P.O’s always spouting nonsense about ‘love’ when no one’s looking. When the door’s closed and no one can see. As though he’s ashamed of us. 

“Ashamed of me? The statement is unbelievable, isn’t it? I’m moderately good-looking, in the most modest sense possible, I’m strong, I know how to take care of both him and myself. What’s he got to be embarrassed about? Childhood friends or not, if he’s not got the balls to shout his love for me to the world, am I just wasting my time?”

Before you could respond, she answered her own question.

“And depressing like this doesn’t suit me, so I hate him for making me feel this way. But I love him so much it’s scary. It scares me when I picture our future together only to wake up in my bed. Alone, when he promised he’d stay. 

“I don’t want to think I’m wasting my time. I don’t want to think it’s all nonsense: his love. I don’t want to live in a future without him.”

With a growl that seemed to erupt from the very pit of her stomach, she said in an enraged, throaty voice, “Propose to me already, you !”

“He’s not old enough to get married yet,” you commented with a smile, satisfied with the usual expression of irritation you got back from her as she finally looked at you.

“Promise me something, some version of forever, some kind of eternity, just anything that feels real, you idiot!” 

She yelled again until she wore herself out, curses sounding off into the columns of trees and rows of houses around you. Until tears gathered at the corner of her eyes, but she didn’t cry. She wouldn’t cry, sniffling only once when she yelled out his real name with a whimpering scream. And he must have heard, everyone must have, but she didn’t care. 

She didn’t care if her love was shouted out the world over. 

Because, in her eyes, to her heart, it was worth it.

Picking up the cake she’d discarded beside her on the bench you two sat on, she spoke then with a clear voice, “You need to find something like that, Hyunjoo.”

“Something worth shouting about?”

“Someone worth shouting about.” She corrected you, eyes calm, hand steady, conscience now clear as she picked up her fork once more, dead set on finishing what she’d started — in this case, Sungjong’s cake. 

She had both talked herself down from her anger and directed it towards a more productive goal within mere minutes, and you couldn’t have respected her more for it. 

While you would have been content just sitting out, enjoying the nice night air along with her as the rain pelted down on the roof of the porch above you, you had already completed the task of listening to her. Now, it was time for someone else to listen to you. 

Poking his head out of the back door, pretending he hadn’t even heard an inkling of Jiyeon’s yelling, Kim Myungsoo graced the back porch with his presence, nodding your way to get you attention. Because, for some reason, he’d seemingly thought you’d need to be coerced into giving it to him.

“You said we needed to talk.” He informed you, as though you didn’t remember. As though you’d forgotten somewhere between the confessions, the cake, and a broken Paradise. But, you hadn’t. 

And you were grateful he hadn’t either. 

That he thought the request you made of him before he joined everyone else in the festivities, tugging him back, stopping him from leaving before you got it out, important enough to remind you of. He was waiting, too. Then and now. For the words you looked so intent to having with him. Only with Myungsoo, because you’d wanted to for a long time now. 

No matter how many wisdom wrinkles you developed in the process, it was a talk worth having. 

“Well, go on then,” Jiyeon nudged you, chomping down onto another piece of chocolate cake, “Don’t keep Prince Charming waiting.”

You laughed, but you didn’t disagree.

Myungsoo wasn’t saying anything. 

He just sat there, staring down at the postcard you’d given him to read. The same one your father had sent you. A faraway castle on a lake on one side and scrawled handwriting on the other, there was nothing all too spectacular about it. 

Handing it to him with the words, “Read this,” didn’t deem it any inkling of importance past what it deserved. 

It was just a short message written on a slip of glossy paper.

He didn’t ask why you’d given it to him. If there was something you wanted him to say or do for you. If his opinion even mattered. He took it from your fingers, sat down on your bed, and read it without a word. 

Even when read the beginning, he opening of “To my daughter, Joey” written in bold letters, he remained expressionless. Even when he reached the end, the name “Song Hyunwoo” signed there clear as day, he didn’t even flinch. You wanted him to do something, anything really, to somehow validate the very thoughts you had regarding it. For him to make sense of it, because it must have meant something. It must have been another mystery waiting to be solved, another bundle of stars meant to be unraveled and ordered into constellations in that big, wide sky. 

You had grown so used to everything being complicated, his simple words surprised you.

“He loves you.”

He said, holding it out to you carefully. 

“How can you tell?”

You asked to fill the silence, feeling tears well up as you took it in your hands again. But you didn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry.

“It’s not hard to tell.” He shrugged, smiling crookedly, dimples appearing, “It’s obvious, really.”

“Myungsoo—,“ you called out his name impulsively, only to stop. 

Only to stall in bringing up yet another topic you’d been keeping tucked away on that top shelf, all the way in the recesses of your mind, for awhile now. Only to ask yourself the question of, “why not?” Why not bring it up? Why not when you knew he’d answer you this time? 

Straight-forward, with a smile. 

The way you’d grown to know him. 

According to Sungjong, before you arrived, the way he always was. 

“The first day I came to Springfield, I almost hit something.” 

He remained silent.

“Someone,” you corrected yourself, looking on at him with pleading eyes. 

Asking him to put it in simple terms for the second time. To sate the curiosity you’d had since last fall. To tell you everything, because you believed yourself ready to know. Because you had no problem with the idea of developing some wise wrinkles of your own. 

Instead of answering, he asked, “Do you know where this place is?”

Pointing to the picture on the postcard, he’d noticed something you hadn’t. A glare shone off its lamented surface as you moved it upwards, blurry white text coming into sight. You read it to yourself, mispronunciations abound. 

Frederiksborg Palace, Denmark. 

Myungsoo was trying to tell you something. Something bigger than the question you already knew the answer to — whether he’d explain himself or not. Something you weren’t ready to know. And before you could dawn upon the terrifying revelation, the solution to the mystery he’d set out to help you unravel, the door to your room opened. 

“Hey you two, we’re playing Werewolf downstairs! Stop flirting and come on down!” Jiyeon announced loudly, holding nothing back as usual, whatever problem she’d had earlier apparently more than solving itself when she’d finished her cake earlier. 

You locked eyes with Myungsoo, parting your lips to speak, not knowing what to say, so he beat you to the punch.

“We’ll talk later.” 

He promised easily, with a smile. 

“First love!”

“Fifteen.”

“First kiss!”

“Fifteen.”

“First boyfriend!” Kyung fired one last question in this round of “we’ll-stop-when-I-feel-like-it” questions.

“Fifteen.” You answered, undeterred by his seemingly infinite amount.

“Wow, that’s one lucky guy.” Kyung pursed his lips as he nodded his head, approving of whoever the mystery boy was for successfully capturing the heart of the elusive you, Song Hyunjoo. 

“I’d say I was the lucky one.” You responded, grinning from ear to ear, knowing no shame.

Kyung faked a gag, leaning away from you where you all sat in a circle on the floor of the living room, faking disgust in the face of your newfound confidence — Italy definitely working it’s magic on you.

Jaehyo sighed, “It’s actually kind of sad that it takes a heck of a lot more to get you embarrassed nowadays.” 

“Don’t make me feel bad for taking away the one joy in your life.” You sarcastically whimpered, soothingly rubbing his shoulder to comfort him for his loss. 

“Nice to see your mocking comebacks haven’t changed in the least,” Jaehyo shrugged your hand off, shoving such a large grin in your face you reminded yourself to watch out for his quick to strike vengeance later tonight. 

“Sleep with one eye open.” Taeil warned, his voice a whisper beside your ear.

“Better yet, don’t sleep at all.” U-kwon cheered, never wanting this night of simply hanging here, there, and everywhere together to end.

“Better still, just let us sleep over.” Zico suggested where he sat across from you, eyebrows wiggling suggestively. He read your mind plain as day from the horrified expression you were making, sighing dramatically, “As though your mom didn’t hate us enough already for barging in here like this, am I right?”

“So sue me for wanting my mom to actually like my friends.” You threw your hands into the air in mock frustration. 

“But what’s there not to like?” U-kwon mused out loud, raising his hand into the air as he began to count the ways in which they were anything but lovable, endearing, half-human, half-beast males of the more unique, oddball variety, “First of all, we’re great at parties.”

“Are you not having fun?” Kyung gestured to the room around you where you all sat, previously engrossed in a game of werewolf before the pure bred werewolves all high-tailed it to the kitchen to scavenge for food. 

“Second of all,” U-kwon continued, taking your silence as an unmistakable affirmation, “we’re great at parties because we’re the farthest from boring any group of males could possibly be.”

“You don’t think I’m boring, do you?” Taeil asked, genuinely concerned. 

“Third of all,” U-kwon sang out, only to pause. Only to realize he had nothing left. 

So, B-bomb decided to aid him in his plight.

“Third of all,” B-bomb drew your attention, smirk so crooked you wouldn’t be surprised if his face got stuck like that one day — though perhaps that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. “We’re good-looking.” 

P.O, who was seated next to his currently timid “girlfriend” Jiyeon, casted a hopeful look in her direction. She caught the glint in his eye, but refused to forgive him so easily — though she would soon after — as she boasted boisterously, “Our family’s gene pool is superior by nature.”

She and B-bomb high-rived from where they sat across from each other, a pair of arrogant, shameless siblings to the end. 

The conversation devolved from there, Kyung insisting they rank their appearances, the pure breeds chosen as the unbiased judges of the competition — a few special talents were displayed, each accompanied by its own share of laughter — as they returned from the kitchen one by one. In the end, Jaehyo won. You, personally, voted for him along with Hoya and Sungjong. And even though Sungjong did it out of spite for the expectant look on Kyung’s face as he casted his vote, Jaehyo’s win meant that, at the very least, you’d rest easy, with both eyes closed, tonight. 

Who’d you rank as number 1 should no threat against you life exist?

Zico sat still in place, meek and content, as he laughed along with everyone. The scene before him was too familiar, too lovable and endearing, no matter how far from the norm it rested, for him not to just bask in it. For once, he’d taken a back seat to the fun. 

And, just as he expected, he didn't regret a single thing. 

You’d found it, a suspicious-looking paper airplane, lying on your bed when you came back upstairs to grab an extra umbrella. Jiyeon and P.O were leaving early, Seohyun — whom you still hadn’t gotten close enough to to expect her and her friends to attend your belated birthday party — needing some assistance back at Sunggyu’s house. Sunggyu, trusting B-bomb’s older sister more than she’d thought, asked her to go. P.O agreed to go with her. 

Thus the happy couple were happy once more, Paradise never looking brighter as P.O held Jiyeon’s hand at the foot of the stairs, unabashed by the whistles and insinuating eyebrows he was getting from everyone. 

Their problem was solved so simply, so straight-forwardly, just like that. 

You couldn’t have been happier for them.

You grew convinced happiness, the very heart-warming, toe-clenching, stomach-knotting feeling itself, knew no bounds as you picked up the airplane and unfolded it, discovering a letter dated February 10th that read as follows:

Dear Song Hyunjoo, 

Happy Lunar New Year!

Are you okay?

I'd like to think you aren't, just a little bit. Just a little bit not-okay without us there. Selfishly. 

We're okay here, too. 

It's been awhile since we arrived and we've settled in nicely. While everyday is certainly not as action-packed, there's something nice about just sitting down and enjoying a person's birthday. 

Just soaking it all up. 

Just breathing it all in. 

Of course, Springfield sweet Springfield, London can't compare to our home. The experiences and memories left behind along with those still left to be experienced and remembered. Along with people who are important to us. All too precious to even begin to enumerate.

You, namely, if you weren't catching my slightly poetic drift. 

I miss you, quite obviously. 

And one of these days ahead of us, I want to sit down and talk. Really talk. About where we came from and where we're going.

I sincerely hope that when that day comes, we can both say with confidence we'll be together - no matter the shape or form. 

You've put up with a lot while you've been sticking out these past few action-packed months with us. Get used to it, because I don't intend to let you go anytime soon. 

Thank you for everything. For believing and trusting in us. For never giving up on us. And for the warm feelings and warmer evenings. 

Look, I rhymed.

Jang Dongwoo. 

Barefoot, you set off down the stairs, umbrella thumping against your left thigh the entire way. Not wasting a single second longer, you called out his name, cheeks burning bright, heart swelling tight, “Dongwoo?”

“Yeah?” He asked, head peeking out from the living room, a curious expression forming on his face.

And you shouted out to the world over, “Thank you.”

He smiled, all thirty-two teeth sparkling white between a pair of thick, pink lips. 

Without pretensions, with natural ease, like a simple rhyme.

The front door creaked open, a mumbling you revealed with the words, “Is the porch everyone’s favorite hang out spot today?” 

Woohyun and Myungsoo both turned, smiling as they leaned off the wooden railing in front of them, the rain having settled down to a light sprinkle a little after eleven. They invited B-bomb in order to complete the “Three Wolfketeers,” but he’d decided to head back home before it got too late — worried for his older sister who, at often times, didn’t take kindly to strangers. 

You bounced on the tips of your toes, too excited to wait for them to ask a courtesy “what’s up” before you answered, “We’re ordering take-out, you two want anything specific?” 

Woohyun rose an eyebrow, “The overwhelming decision thus far is pizza, isn’t it?”

You winked, holding up fake guns, firing off as you voiced out, “Ding ding ding.”

“We’ll tip him when he gets here.” Myungsoo added, patting down where his wallet was in his jacket’s front pocket.

“You should both grab a few slices too before it gets thrown in with the wolves.” You joked before closing the door, leaving them to their conversation without a second’s hesitance. 

“Now, how are we supposed to make our presence more desirable than pizza?” Woohyun jested, “Winning over her affection needs to be done through her stomach to succeed at all, it seems.”

“Good luck,” Myungsoo reached out, giving him a firm pat on the back.

“You say that like you don’t need any,” Woohyun shot back, giving him a hard slap on his shoulder blade. 

Myungsoo coughed at the impact. Woohyun laughed at the sight. But it was a momentary victory, as it didn’t take long for Myungsoo to find the words that came to him so easily, Woohyun wondered how long he’d been dwelling on it.

Exactly how long must Myungsoo have danced with it in his mind, have spent unraveling every little knot in sight, have thought all of this over to have arrived at his following conclusion?

“It’s not luck I don’t need.” Myungsoo stared on at the unmoving scenery before him, a peaceful summer night, a picturesque image that fulfilled each and every one of his childhood dreams, “I don’t need Hyunjoo to like me.”

Woohyun didn’t understand. Myungsoo didn’t expect him to. 

“But, you like her, don’t you?” Woohyun leaned forward, attempting to read the expression on the other’s face. To no avail, as usual. As usual, no matter how close Woohyun got to Myungsoo, no matter how strong their brotherly bond was, the two of them were instinctually different. Naturally dissimilar. 

Naturally two halves that failed to fit together without a bit of duck tape here and there. 

“I adore her.” Was Myungsoo’s response, too natural, too instinctual, to be false. 

A feeling much stronger than mere infatuation, much broader than admiration, and yet not nearly so deep that it could be defined with the word “love.” But, for some reason, Woohyun was jealous of such feelings inferior to his own. Because it meant Myungsoo could watch the object of his affection walk into the grips of death and know she’d survive. 

He respected her. 

He trusted her. 

And the green monster named envy crept up from the corner of Woohyun’s heart then, because he couldn’t so easily believe in her. No matter how much he respected her. No matter how much he trusted her. No matter how much he loved her. Hyunjoo, you, were someone he didn’t want to give up to chance so easily.

He wanted to protect you. To cradle you like a child. To keep you from all harm that would dare threaten you. 

And he knew that was the last thing you wanted. 

So, he unnaturally did all he could to give you just that. He went against his instinctual behavior, giving you free reign of your own fate. Woohyun was pushing his boundaries because he loved you too much to not allow you to get into as much trouble as you liked, whenever you liked. 

Myungsoo didn’t have to do that. 

For Myungsoo, it was all so much easier than all of that. 

As for Woohyun, he believed no one could blame him for turning green then. 

Then, as Myungsoo smiled, the origins of which were some thought or other Woohyun couldn’t even begin to try to understand, irises containing galaxy upon galaxy of shimmering stars flecked across a vast ocean of black staring on at the unchanging scene before him, laughter echoing from behind him, he said, “But, I don’t need her to like me back. This is all enough for me. This is all more than enough for me.”

Myungsoo regretted a lot of things, but certainly not this night.

A/N:

This chapter was supposed to be short, but oh well. (I thought about dividing it into two parts but then we'd spend over 2 chapters on Hyunjoo's Birthday party and that's a bit too much heart-warming cheesiness for me to take.) Sidenote: The title of this chapter both rhymes and has an alliteration. I did both a Dongwoo and English thing.

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Can't wait to type up part 2.

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