Bonus Chapter V: Birthdays and Strange Presents

“Us humans are capable of killing so many creatures, and we eat so many kinds of different food,” Jongdae began, voice rather melodramatic. We had been discussing cake batter just a moment ago -- how had the conversation turned to this? “Yet when you think of it, the smallest and most insignificant of insects -- the mosquito -- feeds on us -- our blood, to be specific. Isn’t it ironic?”

Kyungsoo, who looked very comical wearing the pink princess apron that Chanyeol had gotten him for his birthday, looked up from from his cookbook. With his blank, unamused face and the smiling one of Snow White on his apron, he looked even funnier. “That does nothing to contribute to the cake,” he deadpanned. “And Baekhyun’s going to be back in a couple more hours. If you can’t help with ideas, then you can go prepare all the things we’ll need to make it. The pan, for example. You’ll have to borrow it from Minseok.”

“Iseul already brought a pan for us.”

“You’d be more useful if you left.”

Jongdae mock cringed away from Kyungsoo, who looked very indifferent. “Touche,” he replied. “You win. Just choose a cake quickly and we can make it.”

Chanyeol, who had recently dyed his hair a silvery white colour (it looked very good on him, and I was pretty sure he was the only one in this room who would be able to pull it off. The rest of us… well, the image of Kyungsoo with white hair and his Snow White apron might’ve been the most horrifying thought I’d had this month, even surpassing the one of Baekhyun in a dress that Jongdae had brought up yesterday), held up a rolling pin. “Baekhyun’s favourite flavour is orange,” he chimed, as if he were actually contributing with ideas. I had a sudden image of a cake, completely orange coloured, with orange icing and orange slices, and to some degree, it was worst than the thought of white haired Kyungsoo.

“Does it look like we’re capable of making orange flavoured batter?” Kyungsoo shot back at Chanyeol irritably. “Think. What else?”

“I think he likes Tiramisu cake? We went to a baekery once and he got a slice of Tiramisu,” I tried, and Kyungsoo let out a triumphant, aha!

At the same time as Kyungsoo, Jongdae snickered. “Of course Iseul knows.”

I tried to glare at him, but he had returned his attention to leaning over Kyungsoo’s shoulder to look at the cookbook. “Does it say how to make Tiramisu cake in there?”

“Yeah, but we need ingredients,” Kyungsoo groaned. “I doubt we have everything we need. What’s mascarpone cheese? We barely have much of regular sugar, much less confectioners sugar. Coffee flavoured liqueur? Someone’s going to have to run and buy it. We have--” Kyungsoo looked down at his wristwatch, “--approximately three and a half more hours until he comes back.”

“Are you sure three and a half hours is enough--” Chanyeol began in a meek voice, and Kyungsoo turned and pointed an accusing finger at Chanyeol.

“If you’re going to ruin this cake you did with the last one,” he said quietly, the typical threat of his laced in his voice, “I’ll sacrifice you as my present to Baekhyun.”

“I thought we were sacrificing Iseul--”

One of the oven mitts than Kyungsoo had previously held went flying in the direction of Jongdae’s face, the aim deadly accurate. Jongdae let out an indignant shout as the over mitt hit him smack in the face. “What was that for?” he demanded, though his tone died down halfway through the sentence. Kyungsoo looked like he was trying to burn holes through Jongdae, which was quite terrifying, knowing Kyungsoo’s glare. “Right. Sorry.”

“Sacrifice me?” I asked, “What’s that have to do with Baekhyun’s birthday?”

Kyungsoo’s angel smile was never a good sign, especially how fast he morphed from his murder face to it. “You don’t need to worry about it,” he replied. “Just focus on the Tiramisu cake.”

***

I should’ve worried more for myself and less for the Tiramisu cake, because Kyungsoo handled the Tiramisu cake with no problem. In two hours and fifty seven minutes, the cake was sitting in the fridge, with Happy Birthday, Byun Baekhyun inscribed in orange ink at the top. For something homemade, it looked considerably professional. And for all the worrying that had been done from Kyungsoo’s side, the turnout of the cake looked very nice.

The problems really started when both Jongdae and Chanyeol grabbed me and dragged me to the direction of the bunk beds, and Kyungsoo trailed closely behind with what looked like three balls of yarn and duct tape. I would’ve laughed at his Snow White apron if Chanyeol and Jongdae weren’t doing whatever they were doing.

Chanyeol and Jongdae were strong, I could give them that. I wasn’t exactly weak, but when I had already kicked Chanyeol twice in the legs and whacked Jongdae (accidentally) across the face, I’d expect them to let go. Instead, I was dragged the bed (Baekhyun’s, to be exact), held down to the bedpost, and forced to stay still as Kyungsoo wrapped God knew how much yarn around me.

In the end, with what probably would be miles of yarn if it were unravelled, I was tied to the bedpost from shoulder to toes with orange yarn, which happened to be knotted by Jongdae. And Jongdae had taken classes on how to knot ropes properly, which meant that the knots were probably never to be opened ever again. Three pieces of duct tape held me from probably falling -- one around my ankles, one around my stomach and the last one around my shoulders. Kyungsoo stared on happily, looking more pleased than he had when the cake had turned out nicely, which, quite frankly, scared me. Kyungsoo took pride in his cooking, and the fact that he looked so happy about… whatever this was scared me.

“You’ll never get out,” Chanyeol told me gleefully. He had tied a huge, rose coloured ribbon around me, and I wasn’t sure if I was going to yell or cry. “See, we couldn’t exactly find rope rope at the stores, but Kyungsoo figured that if we wrapped you in a lot of yarn and duct tape, it wouldn’t make a difference either.”

“A lot of yarn,” I repeated dumbly. Struggling have proven futile quite soon after I had been tied to the bedpost -- the yarn did it’s job surprisingly well, and the duct tape limited my movements even more. “I’m going to kill you all when I get out. I'll strangle you all with duct tape and yarn.” I wasn’t quite sure what those three sentences had to do with each other, but it was all my brain supplied me with saying. I went with it.

“You’re our additional present to Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo told me, a little too calmly for my taste. “You should be thankful. We were going to tape your mouth shut and lock you in a room with Baekhyun.”

“,” Jongdae remarked.

I would’ve thrown something at him if I could, but it was Jongdae. He wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t make such comments. “For a birthday gift, I don’t think he’s going to… appreciate it,” I muttered. There was a piece of loose yarn brushing against my neck, and it was beginning to tickle in an uncomfortable way. That, and the fact that I was currently tied with yarn and duct tape to the bedpost.

“Oh, he’ll appreciate it,” Jongdae reassured (I wouldn’t exactly call it reassured). “He’ll definitely appreciate it.”

“I’m going to pretend I never heard that.”

“We were actually going to tie you onto the actual bed--”

“Please stop talking right there.”

“--but Kyungsoo said that that was taking it too fast and--”

To my immense relief, there was a knock at the door, saving me from having to hear the rest of Jongdae’s sentence. Then the thought hit me that that knock was probably Baekhyun, and I was currently wrapped in orange yarn and secured to his bedpost.

“Now would be the time to cut me out of this--”

Kyungsoo flung open the door and I closed my eyes and waiting for my impending doom. Jongdae let out a cheer. Slowly, almost scared, I cracked open one eye, then the other.

Baekhyun looked nice, and that was my first and probably only thought.

His hair was still the same -- slightly too long, but it was somehow neat now, combed and settled down, instead of having flyaway locks sticking out everywhere. And God -- he looked undeniably nice with skinny jeans and the coat -- and even the sneakers seemed to work perfectly with the rest of his outfit.

Then there was me, tied to the bedpost with yarn and duct tape.