Thirteen

Hyukjae is glaring so hard at the recipe he has in hands that Donghae has to wonder how it still hasn’t scrammed under the nearest table.

It’s Wednesday just before Christmas Eve, and since they agreed that they’d rather spend the next two days of celebration with their families instead, Donghae decided to invite Hyukjae over at his apartment on the 23rd to compensate. Although they both know that most soulmates and matches would already have met families and moved in together by now, the two men want to enjoy the slower pace of their relationship and take the time to think about it. They’re more than just happy to be each other’s soulmates, of course, but they’re also adamant not to let it grow into something pressuring and stressful either.

“I like this,” Hyukjae confessed earlier. “I like what we have—I like that you don’t take me for granted and that we’re taking our time, but not too much either, and... I just—…” I—…

Yeah, Donghae smiled tenderly in response. Me too, Hyukjae. Me too.

‘I love you’ hasn’t been said yet—but they both know it’s getting close. The urge to rush it is the last thing in their minds, however.

On the other hand, the ideal plan of the day would be to bake some cakes and have fun together. Except that judging from the way Hyukjae is already being difficult about it, although they haven’t even started yet, Donghae guesses easily that it’s going to be a long day. And, honestly, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I… don’t understand,” Hyukjae repeats once again. “I don’t get it, really. This is not precise at all. What is ‘cut the pears in small cubes, but neither too big or too small’ supposed to mean? They say small, and then they say not too small, and then what? What is this supposed to mean? How big are they supposed to be? Is it even going to change anything to the taste or the texture of the cake? Big or not, pears are still pears, right? Or is the size of those cubes going to, like, maybe influence how they’ll be cooked in the cake? I know that smaller cubes would cook faster than bigger ones, but if that was really important, then shouldn’t they tell us?”

Hyukjae whips around to ask for Donghae’s opinion, eyes wide and serious and adorable. “Right?”

“Yeah,” Donghae clears his throat, trying hard to hold back on his laughter. “I mean… sure?”

Apparently satisfied with his positive answer, as doubtful as it was, Hyukjae nods and then continues to rant almost immediately. “So, what is it exactly? Is it one centimeter big? Or two? Three? How do I know?”

“Just go with what you think would be the best, Hyukjae,” Donghae chuckles. “Probably between one and half centimeter and two? You know, so it’s not too big in your mouth but you can still feel the texture when you bite into the cake. Something like that.”

Huffing, Hyukjae eyes the recipe and glares at the pears on the counter. “As I said, this recipe isn’t precise at all. I thought baking had to be precise.”

“It is,” Donghae snickers. Honestly, he’s ready to give his soulmate all of the most imprecise recipes in the world, if it means he’ll act that adorably each time. “Just not about how to cut fruits, I guess. Come on, Hyukjae, you’ll do fine. We don’t even start with cutting the pears, anyway.”

Then, as he takes the flour and the eggs out, he calls distractedly, “Grab a bowl in that cupboard, would you? We’ll prepare the batter first.”

Hyukjae lets out a long-suffering sigh and obliges in the end, but not after reaching out with one hand to pinch Donghae as he walks past him. The latter yelps and startles, dropping a bit of flour everywhere, before he rubs the mild sting with a pout.

Jerk, Donghae grumbles.

Only for you, lovely soulmate of mine, Hyukjae snickers back. So which bowl am I supposed to take? There’re at least five sorts in there. Be more precise, Donghae.

About twenty minutes later—Hyukjae’s cake preparation was supposed to take only ten—, Donghae looks up and chuckles at his soulmate. Hyukjae’s nose is scrunched up cutely, while his hands are covered in flour and still busy manhandling the bowl of batter. Somehow, Donghae fails to understand how one of the easiest recipes in the world turned out into this.

“What’s up?” he asks as his soulmate keeps on twitching the tip of his nose.

“It itches,” Hyukjae whines. “But my hands are all dirty and I don’t want to smear some on my face. Not like a certain someone,” he adds afterwards, sending an amused look at the streak of flour that spreads across Donghae’s right cheek. “You look ridiculous.”

Chuckling still, Donghae walks over and stops next to Hyukjae. But instead of scratching the spot for him, he leans down and pecks the tip of his soulmate’s nose. Hyukjae releases a surprised sound but sighs happily, then nudges him until they can fit their lips together into a swee