The Soulmate Paradox ✔

twenty-two: story that won't end

Jeong-Soon chuckles lightly, one hand creeping into his sky-tinted locks. "How could I ever forget?" Then he's moving closer, pulling Gregory into a tight embrace that sends butterflies arcing through every centimetre of Gregory's body. "Happy birthday," Jeong-Soon whispers.

Gregory shuts his eyes, burying his face into his boyfriend's chest. He prays that Jeong-Soon won't hear his heartbeat, won't hear the bells and the butterflies and the cannons pounding out of his chest, won't hear how in love he is. "Happy birthday to you too," he replies, voice muffled by Jeong-Soon's t-shirt and his own fleshy cheek, the side of his mouth digging into his teeth. "When you said you had a surprise for me, I wasn't expecting a new dye job."

Jeong-Soon pulls away slightly, alarm flooding his face. "Sorry! Do you, uh, not like it? I can always change it again if you want---"

"I said I didn't expect it." Gregory feels his face heat up. "I never said I didn't like it. It suits you. Very sexy. Makes me want to drag you back home immediately."

His boyfriend's grin is full of mischief. "Maybe later." Then his expression softens around the edges, losing its cheeky cadence for the warm concern Gregory's become so accustomed to. "I'm sorry I wasn't there this morning."

"Yeah, what was up with that?" Gregory complains. "I wake up, expecting some hot birthday morning sex or something, and next thing I know, my significant annoyance's missing from the bed. You didn't even make your side of the bed properly."

The mischievous smile is back, and Gregory senses a thousand secrets behind the rosy curve of his boyfriend's lips. Jeong-Soon's still almost too easy to read, which is one thing that hasn't changed over the years they've been together. He's pretty sure his boyfriend's hiding something, and he's pretty fucking happy about it. "I had...something to do," Jeong-Soon deflects. Gregory feels his boyfriend's palm press against his own, soft and slender and warm. His fingers instinctively wrap around Jeong-Soon's slim digits, and the staccato pulse that rushes through his entire body is a pleasant shock.

So he's just as happy to be here as me.

That's good.

"How was this morning's session?" Jeong-Soon asks quietly. The speckled sunlight weaves a pianissimo harmony in his choppy bangs, dappling every strand of his hair in shiny, emerald-gold radiance.

Gregory tears his eyes away from his boyfriend's face to stare at the ground. "Normal. Doc got me a cake. Tiramisu."

"That's nice of him."

"Yeah."

"I hope you didn't tell him you hate tiramisu."

"I kept my mouth open, bit my tongue, and threw up in our kitchen trashcan the moment I got home. I wanted to tell him, honestly. But then I thought, 'Jeong-Soon would be so disappointed in me if I told my therapist that the birthday cake he bought for me out of his own pocket was the only flavour in the world that I couldn't stand.' So no. I did not tell Doc." Gregory crosses his arms over his chest. He still notices the absence of protruding bones and too-sharp ribcages sometimes, the loss made even more prominent by the sheaf of flesh now generously spread underneath his shirt. Considering the way he's been eating since his stepmother had started taking up online cooking lessons, he's not surprised.

Jeong-Soon laughs, a clear sound that cuts through the bands echoing through every corner of the festival. "I'm proud of you."