Just Another Day
Genre: Fluff
Summary: When Kyuhyun tells you that he doesn’t want a big celebration for his special day, so you just have a simple nice evening together.
Words: 1683
A/N: Since it is my bias birthday I had to put out something. Literally just wrote this under two hours so excuse the almost ramble at the first part. Happy Birthday to our SJ Maknae!
He just wanted a normal day.
He was more than aware of how privileged he was as a person. Sometimes he wonders if he ever deserves all the things he currently has. At the end of the day, he’s just a normal person. Which is why he is always grateful and as much as he possibly could he tries to give back the love he receives.
Parties we never really a thing for him at all. Ever since he was young, he never understood why people go through all the fuss for you on this particular day. What did one achieve? All you did was exist. As far as he was concerned the person who did most of the work was probably his mother.
Which is why whenever it was this time of the year (actually several times of the year, he was just that kind of son) he would often call his mother and thank her. If it weren’t for his mom and dad he literally would not have come into existence, so he was always grateful for that.
He probably received ten cakes by now, and more were probably coming. It wasn’t that he didn’t like cakes but pretty much every event may it be a comeback, a recording or a performance there was always cake. Again, he did not complain, people wanted to show their appreciation for him. But he really can’t consume all of that. And he wasn’t even that strict of a dieter.
What he did like were the letters. There was always an endless supply, but they doubled during this time. He never really asked for much, he made a lot of money himself after all. At least in letters they were more personalized, he could fell the effort and love from the sender. It was always fascinating whenever he received those from abroad, astounded that even people from far away took the time and energy to greet him.
Usually some of his friends would ask if they could go drinking and the person that he is, he never turned down the offer. Most of the time it was at one their homes or even just his own apartment, he wasn’t that choosy. All he needed was alcohol, a good side dish, good conversation and maybe some drunken singing here and there.
Today however he was working. These days he always seemed to be working. Multiple times people would ask him how he managed to fit such a busy schedule and he would just shrug. Maybe he was used to the way their scheduling was back in the day when literally no day was free even Sundays. Perhaps this was just him remembering the days when he didn’t get solo schedules and would die of boredom in the dorm while his hyungs had projects left and right and him wishing that someday people would like him enough to ask him to be on their shows.
It wasn’t that he didn’t get tired, honestly, he was always tired. But as a person who grew up as an idol in the so called ‘second gen’ they were trained as much as possible to hide their exhaustion. They were professionals after all, so they had to give their all even if they sometimes had nothing left inside them.
Also, he just really loved singing. It was the one thing he could do no matter what condition he was in. He could have a fever of a hundred degrees but would still hit those notes not because it was easy, but because he wanted to. Singing was not a job, it was something that kept him going, it was his purpose and he was always grateful that he was given the opportunity do a thing he loved for a living.
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It was around ten when he returned home.
He had already told you multiple times not to overdo anything. He had probably blown enough birthday cakes that he was now a hundred years old or so.
So, what do you want me to do then? You asked him the previous day.
Nothing really.
Really? Nothing.
Well, you already know what I want.
So, while he was in the shower you heated up the hand made tteokbokki you prepared earlier. You also made some odeng, kimbap and eomuk guk.
When he came out of the shower, he was still drying his hair with a towel. Dressed in only one of his many loose black shirts and jogging pants. He sniffed the food you had prepared and couldn’t help but drool.
“I haven’t eaten since lunch.” He said taking a seat on the sofa as you placed the dishes on the coffee table.
“No one treated the birthday boy?” you asked taking out the whisky and holding two glasses.
“I distributed the cake to the theater staff, the cast, to my stylist, my hairstylist, the make-up artist and even manager.”
“Knowing you, you probably gave each staff one whole cake.”
He grabbed the bottle and glasses from you and poured the drinks himself “They have families at home; it was the least I could do.”
“Did you at least eat one?”
“I took a lick of each one.”
“What?”
“With my finger!” he raised his pointer finger.
“Ahhh” you sat down “So . . . come on try it.”
He took the small saucer and took some of the tteokbokki “You made all this?”
“Probably not as good as store bought ones.”
He took a bite and chewed before slowly nodding his head. He swallowed before speaking “This is kind of . . .” he pointed with the chopsticks in his hand “The ones you get in restaurants that just serve street food.”
“You know you don’t have to sweet talk me you’re not selling me anything.”
“I’m not sweet-talking you.” He took another bite a nodded his head more aggressively “This is really good! Come on you try!”
You grabbed your chopsticks and took some “Hmm . . . huh, not bad.”
“They’re great.” He pointed at himself “You should believe me, because I am expert. I tasted countless tteokbokki from around the world. So, I know quality when I see one.”
You couldn’t help but laugh “Don’t get me wrong, but it really sounds like you’re making a product placement.”
“Ahhh . . . we’ll save some for manager tomorrow. You know that guy never lies.” He then started going for the other side dishes.
“I was worried if I made too much but maybe I didn’t even make enough.” You commented as the man just wolfed everything while sipping whisky and letting out a loud ‘aaaaahhhh’ every time.
“The only thing missing,” he said later while he was cleaning the dishes after he insisted, he do them since you cooked “Was some blood sausage, but all in all it was good.”
“Maybe next time.” You wiped the dishes and put them back in the drawer.
Later you were back on the couch. He had booted up his PlayStation and was now playing Expedition 33, he had already finished the game and was now just trying to 100% it. He was quite serious about this that he even put on his glasses. You on the other hand was reading a book, you would look up every once in awhile if something caught your interest or you heard him cursing and see what mistake he had made.
Both of you were still drinking the whisky, since you had dated him, you got better at your alcohol tolerance. It wasn’t that you constantly drank everything in one go, you just slowly integrated it into your system. Even you thought he was an alcoholic initially only to learn he rarely touched his wine collection unless for special occasions.
Or unless he could drink with you.
Despite you doing two completely different things it was comfortable. There was just something nice of having someone next to you. It felt warm like you the whisky you drank.
Eventually the bottle was used up, you had read three chapters, and he decided to stop for the day. Shutting the TV off he let out a yawn, took his glasses off then suddenly leaned towards you.
Seeing this you put your book down and allowed him to rest his head on your lap.
“You really are a puppy sometimes.” You said massaging his head. He had his eyes closed and just let out a grunt,
“Should I get the hairdryer? Parts of your hair is still wet.”
“. . . later . . .” he mumbled.
“You’re about to fall asleep.”
“nmmm . . .” again he mumbled.
“You really just okay with this?” you continued to massage his head “We could have at least eaten outside or something.”
“It’s already late and it’s a hassle.”
“Why do you even have work on your birthday?”
“My birthday is not a national holiday.”
“You even work on national holidays.”
“True.” He shrugged.
You looked down at the man, you could see he had some bags from working for literally every day of the week. There was one time he was so busy you didn’t even see him for two weeks despite the fact you lived together.
“You’ve worked hard.” You gave a gentle pat at his cheeks. It was in here you realized he was already snoring with his mouth slightly open.
You let out a sigh and continued to pat his head; you decided to just let him rest. He was too big of a man for you to carry to the bedroom (you had once tried and he scolded you when he realized you tripped) and most of the time he would wake up after thirty minutes anyway.
Also, this was probably the closest he had gotten to rest in a long while.
You then placed a kiss on his forehead “Happy Birthday love” you whispered.
Perhaps he was just half asleep, maybe he was pretending to be asleep or maybe he just woke up. But you could see the smirk on his face in response.
