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Today is Ivan’s birthday—February 14th, which also happens to be Valentine’s Day.
Ivan is watching a TikTok about two people whose birthdays were right next to each other. The one whose birthday came first blew out the candle just before midnight. Then, as the clock struck twelve, marking the start of a new day, the other person—whose birthday came next—blew out the first candle of their special day.
The idea immediately reminded him of his dad’s birthday being right next to his. Excited, he sprinted to his older sister Sua’s room.
“Sua! Sua, look at this!” Ivan practically shoved his phone in her face, nearly knocking it into her lap. She was lounging on her bed, a novel in hand, and barely spared him a glance.
“...What is it?” she mumbled, clearly unamused.
“Look, look! We could do this with me and Papa! Can we? Can we?? Can we please???” Ivan bounced on the balls of his feet, eyes shining with anticipation.
Sua furrowed her brows and brushed him off. “Why are you asking me? Shouldn’t you ask Papa or Daddy first?” She turned a page in her book as if that was the end of the conversation.
“But I wanna include you in ittttt,” Ivan whined, now practically lying on the side of her bed, staring up at her with pleading eyes.
She sighed, finally looking at him. “If Daddy says yes, then I’m in. Now get out.”
That was enough for Ivan—he took it as a win. After all, Daddy would never brush off his husband’s or his son’s birthday.
Later, during dinner, Ivan excitedly pulled up the TikTok again, eagerly showing it to his parents.
Kim Dokja hummed in thought before nodding. “Alright, but you’re all going to bed right after. No staying up late.”
Yoo Joonghyuk, however, was less enthusiastic. He frowned. “I don’t want to stay up late. I have important work tomorrow—a meeting with the higher-ups and the company.”
“But it’s just for a little bit!” Ivan protested, puffing out his cheeks.
Yoo Joonghyuk crossed his arms. “No.”
Kim Dokja chuckled, giving his husband a knowing look. “You’ll give in.”
Yoo Joonghyuk scowled but said nothing.
For context, Yoo Joonghyuk was a gamer—he streamed often, gaining a solid following. Meanwhile, Kim Dokja was a full-time househusband, though he always seemed busy with something, constantly preparing for the future in his own way.
And as Ivan knew well, Kim Dokja always got his way in the end.
“Told you so,” Sua said to Ivan after hearing Joonghyuk’s reply. She knew their dad would say no, and this also meant she wasn’t staying up either.
“Aww… :(” Ivan whined dramatically.
Kim Dokja chuckled, ruffling Ivan’s hair. “It’s okay, buddy. I’ll still celebrate with you. Meanwhile, your daddy can bake the cake for us.”
“REALLY???” Ivan’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he turned to look at Yoo Joonghyuk expectantly.
“...Sigh Fine.”
Joonghyuk couldn’t really refuse. Dokja knew full well that he had cleared his schedule today and had nothing urgent to do. And on top of that, he could never bring himself to ignore Dokja’s requests. This should at least make up for not celebrating at the crack of dawn with them.
“Sua, are you joining them?” Joonghyuk asked.
“No, I have to sleep early. I have a date with Mizi tomorrow,” Sua replied nonchalantly.
Joonghyuk immediately squinted at her, his expression darkening as if he were about to launch into another round of nagging. No doubt he’d start listing a bunch of safety rules: Don’t talk to strangers. Watch both sides when you cross the road. You’re girls—be careful.
Dokja noticed the look on his face and patted his back reassuringly. “Just leave her be. She’s all grown up now.”
Joonghyuk clicked his tongue in disapproval but said nothing.
Meanwhile, Ivan, now overly enthusiastic, ran straight to the kitchen and started rummaging through the drawers for ingredients. “I want a chocolate one!!” he declared, grabbing whatever he could and shaking the packets in the air to get Joonghyuk’s attention.
Joonghyuk didn’t respond with words. Instead, he simply stood up from the table and walked toward the kitchen.
He may have looked strict and emotionless on the outside, but every person had their soft spots. And for Yoo Joonghyuk? It was his family.
Ivan knew this well. That’s why he didn’t mind when his daddy didn’t outwardly express his affection—he knew Joonghyuk cared about them all the same.
“Do we need to save a piece for you, Sua? You love chocolate cake too,” Dokja asked as he started gathering supplies.
“No thanks. I’m eating out tomorrow, so no need,” Sua replied casually.
Dokja only smiled to himself. He knew she wouldn’t outright ask for it, but he still planned on saving a piece for her later.
The family spent the whole afternoon baking a chocolate cheesecake, layering it with icing and decorating it with chocolate pearls.
Joonghyuk, of course, handled most of the process. He was a perfectionist—if something wasn’t done his way, it wasn’t done right. One glance at him meticulously measuring ingredients and adjusting the temperature was enough to tell who did the cooking in this household.
Meanwhile, Dokja and Ivan were less concerned with perfection. They played around while mixing the dough, kneading it messily, and occasionally flicking bits of flour at each other when Joonghyuk wasn’t looking. Sua, on the other hand, simply stood beside Joonghyuk, quietly observing as he measured everything to precision.
After placing the cake in the fridge to set, their work was done.
Sua left first, retreating to her room and locking the door behind her—probably to call Mizi.
Joonghyuk and Dokja settled on the couch, resting as they absentmindedly watched TV.
With nothing else to do, Ivan packed his small bag, scooped up his pet bunny, Ibanny, and ran out of the house—after informing his parents, of course.
Neither Joonghyuk nor Dokja were the least bit worried.
There was only one reason Ivan ever went out at this hour—to visit his best friend (or, as Dokja liked to tease, his crush).
Till.
Till was… a unique individual.
He was full of life, bursting with energy in a way that contrasted Ivan’s usual composed demeanor. Maybe that’s why Ivan was so fascinated by him.
Ivan ran up to the next house, ringing the doorbell and waiting patiently.
It wasn’t long before the door opened, revealing Till’s mom—Io.
"Ah, Ivan! You’re here. Happy birthday, darling." Io smiled warmly as she stepped aside to let him in.
"Thanks, Auntie! I’m here to play with Till!"
Io chuckled, closing the door behind him. "Our Tillie’s in his room—probably composing music or something. I’ll leave you boys to it."
There was something fond in the way she spoke, a mix of love and gratitude. Even with Till’s temper, rebellious streak, and occasional outbursts, he’d somehow managed to have a friend as patient as Ivan.
"Thanks, Auntie Io!" Ivan grinned before dashing toward Till’s room.
He didn’t bother knocking.
"HII TILLLLLLL!"
"GOOD GOD, IVAN!"
Till jolted so hard he nearly dropped the guitar in his hands.
Now, a little backstory on these two.
Ivan had a tiny crushy-crush on Till—something that had started as pure admiration but grew into something more. Because of that, he followed Till around, slowly but surely becoming the one person Till actually kept close.
At first, Till had found him annoying—too clingy, too energetic, too persistent. But Ivan never left, and over time, Till stopped minding. He never said it out loud, but having Ivan around was... nice.
Most people steered clear of Till. He looked like a bully—the gothic rockstar aesthetic, the sharp eyes, the way he always seemed one second away from snapping at someone. But in reality, he was just a normal guy. A little irritable, sure, but passionate about his art, his music, and the things he loved.
These days, Till didn’t even bother telling Ivan to shut up when he started rambling about his day. He’d just keep strumming his guitar, pretending to be indifferent. But Ivan knew better. Just like his dad, Till cared—he just didn’t show it in obvious ways.
And that was okay. Ivan understood him.
"Next time, knock before barging in, geez," Till grumbled, hurriedly scooping up scattered music sheets filled with scribbled notes, doodles, and half-finished lyrics.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you sayyyy," Ivan drawled, barely listening as he glanced around. "Hey, where's Tillbun?"
"With my mom. Probably getting spoiled with carrots or something," Till muttered, shuffling through the papers. His fingers froze for half a second when he spotted it—the crumpled music sheet labeled "Happy Birthday (Rock Ver.)" and, right underneath it, a sketch of Ivan in his usual chaotic glory—grinning wide, arms flailing mid-storytelling, looking every bit as loud and animated as he always was.
His face burned. Why the hell did I even draw this?
With a swift motion, Till shoved both the music sheet and the drawing deep into his desk drawer, right as Ivan turned back toward him.
"Oh! I brought Ibanny too! Thought he’d miss his best bud," Ivan grinned, completely oblivious.
"Just drop him off in the kitchen with Tillbun."
"Okayyy!" Ivan chirped, skipping off.
Till exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. That was close.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Ivan handed Ibanny over to Io. "Auntie!! I forgot to mention, I brought Ibanny! Please take care of him for a bit."
"Oh, perfect! Tillbun will have company. And I just bought fresh carrots today," Io chuckled.
Ivan placed Ibanny next to Tillbun, a teal-gray bunny lounging lazily in his cage. The moment Ibanny was inside, he immediately snuggled up to Tillbun, rubbing against him affectionately.
Io laughed. "Oh my, looks like he's happy to see his buddy!"
"Mhm! Alright, I'll be in Till’s room!" Ivan called before dashing back.
By the time he returned, the once-scattered music sheets and drawings were gone, and Till’s desk looked suspiciously neater. Ivan smirked but said nothing, flopping onto the bed like he owned the place.
Ivan had always come over to ramble about random things, but sometimes he ended up helping Till with his songs too. He had a deep, smooth voice—perfect for nostalgic, old-school love songs. But, of course, he never stuck to just one style. Whenever Till needed a grittier, rock-inspired sound for his music, Ivan was more than happy to adjust, matching his vibe effortlessly. It wasn’t even a question—if Till needed a singer, Ivan would be there.
Till would never admit it, but he actually liked Ivan’s voice.
But he’d rather die than say it out loud.
"So, anyway," Ivan started, plopping down dramatically, "wanna come over to my place at midnight to celebrate my birthday properly?" His eyes sparkled with anticipation.
"No," Till deadpanned.
"WHAT?! Why not?!"
"It’s too late. Go to sleep."
"But my dad's birthday is tomorrow, so we wanna celebrate mine at the last minute and his at the new minute—noooo???" Ivan whined dramatically.
Till gave him a flat look. "That’s the dumbest excuse I’ve ever heard."
"But it makes sense!"
"Go. To. Sleep."
"Ugh, you're no fun." Ivan pouted but didn’t push further. He already knew Till cared in his own way—he just wouldn't admit it out loud.
Just as he was about to change the subject, Till awkwardly started strumming his guitar, playing an unpolished, hesitant version of Happy Birthday. His fingers fumbled slightly on the chords, and he refused to meet Ivan’s gaze.
Ivan blinked.
"Are you—are you playing for me?" he gasped dramatically, clutching his chest.
Till clicked his tongue, shoving a folded piece of paper into Ivan’s hands before he could react further. "Here. Happy birthday, idiot."
Ivan unfolded it, and his eyes widened. It was a portrait of him—drawn in Till’s unmistakable, messy-yet-detailed sketching style. But it wasn’t just any portrait. It was Ivan, mid-laugh, doing one of his goofy poses, full of life and energy, just like how Till saw him.
For a moment, Ivan was completely silent. Then his eyes started steaming up like a cartoon character.
"OH MY GOD—"
Before Till could even think of dodging, Ivan tackled him in a hug so tight it felt like he was being strangled.
"LET GO—" Till wheezed, struggling against Ivan’s iron grip.
"NO. I AM NEVER LETTING GO. YOU LOVE ME."
"I don’t—"
"YOU DO, YOU ABSOLUTELY DO."
"Get off, you clingy freak!"
"NEVER!"
Till groaned, but there was the tiniest hint of a smile at the corner of his lips.
By the time the excitement died down, they both sat in Till’s room, the only sound being the quiet strumming of his guitar. Ivan leaned back on the floor, legs stretched out, lazily glancing around before his eyes landed on the stack of music sheets Till had shoved aside earlier.
"Hey, you need to change these," Ivan said, casually pointing at a part of the sheet with his foot.
Till raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"This part—it’s too slow. I know you like that dramatic build-up thing, but you should make it flow smoother. It kinda drags," Ivan explained, tapping the page.
Till scoffed. "I wrote it. I think I know how it’s supposed to sound."
Ivan smirked. "Yeah? And who sings it?"
Till narrowed his eyes but didn’t argue. He just picked up the sheet, giving it a second look while Ivan hummed the tune under his breath, making small adjustments with his finger in the air like an imaginary conductor.
They hung out like that for a while—Till tinkering with his music, Ivan throwing in unsolicited opinions, and the two of them slipping into a familiar rhythm.
Eventually, Ivan glanced at the clock and groaned. "Ugh, I gotta go home for dinner soon."
Till only hummed in response, still focused on the notes in front of him.
Just as Ivan stood up, Till spoke without looking up. "Don’t forget Ibanny."
Ivan froze mid-step.
"OH NO, MY CHILD!" He spun around dramatically and bolted to the kitchen like it was a life-or-death situation.
Till sighed and followed at a much more normal pace.
When they reached the kitchen, Ibanny was practically glued to Tillbun inside the cage, the black bunny clinging onto the teal-gray one like he never wanted to let go. Tillbun, on the other hand, looked completely unbothered, ears twitching slightly as if he’d already accepted his fate.
They both crouched down, attempting to pry Ibanny off, but the little bunny only clung tighter, letting out tiny snuffling noises of protest.
"This is impossible," Ivan huffed, carefully trying to wiggle his bunny free.
"You’re the one who brought him over," Till muttered.
"Yeah, well, you’re the one whose bunny is a total enabler!"
After much struggle, they finally managed to separate them, though Ibanny still squirmed in Ivan’s arms, trying to reach for Tillbun again.
Ivan pouted, cradling his bunny. "He’s so sad… We should let them have a sleepover."
"Absolutely not," Till deadpanned.
"Ugh, you're so heartless." Ivan sighed dramatically but finally gave up. He adjusted his bag, holding Ibanny securely before heading for the door.
As he stepped outside, he turned back with a teasing grin. "See you tomorrow, Tillieee~"
Till rolled his eyes, already reaching to shut the door. "Don't call me that. Also tell your dad i said Happy Birthday too"
But as soon as the door clicked shut, he stood there for a moment, staring at the empty space where Ivan had just been. Then, with no one around to see, he let a tiny, amused smile slip.
Just as Till allowed himself that tiny, amused smile, a voice came from beside him.
"I knew it."
Till jumped, nearly tripping over his own feet as he snapped his head to the side—only to see Io standing there, arms crossed, a knowing smirk plastered on her face.
"WHAT THE HELL—"
"I’ve been here the whole time," Io said smugly, tilting her head. "Didn’t even notice me, huh? Too busy staring after your favorite person?"
Till immediately wiped the smile off his face, scowling. "Shut up."
Io just leaned against the counter, absolutely thriving off of this. "You like him."
"No, I don't."
"You like him."
"No, I don’t."
Io’s smirk widened. "You so do."
Till groaned, running a hand down his face. "Mom, please."
"Oh, don’t ‘Mom, please’ me. I see you," Io said, raising an eyebrow. "Blushing, smiling—oh, so cute. When’s the wedding?"
"MOM." Till practically died on the spot.
Io just laughed, patting his shoulder. "Alright, alright. I’ll stop. For now."
Till huffed, crossing his arms. "I hate it here."
Io grinned. "No, you don’t. You love it here. Just like you love—"
"DO NOT FINISH THAT SENTENCE."
Io winked before walking off, still laughing to herself.
Till groaned into his hands. He was never hearing the end of this.
When Ivan got home, the warm scent of home-cooked food filled the air. He kicked off his shoes, stretching lazily as he walked into the dining room.
Sua, already seated, glanced up and smirked. "Where’d you go? Let me guess—Till again?"
Ivan gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. "I do have a life outside of Till, you know!"
Sua snorted. "Yeah, sure. So? What’d you two do?"
Before Ivan could answer, Joonghyuk appeared from the kitchen, setting down a dish on the table. "Sit properly," he said, not even looking at Ivan.
Ivan groaned but obeyed, pulling his chair in. As he did, Dokja came over with the last dish, setting it in the center of the table.
"Oh, right!" Ivan perked up. "Till said happy birthday, Papa."
Dokja blinked, slightly surprised. "Huh. Didn’t think he’d remember."
"Of course, he did. I was there to remind him," Ivan said proudly.
Dokja chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, tell him thanks next time you see him."
Joonghyuk, already serving himself, scoffed. "Just eat."
Ivan grinned, happily digging in as the warmth of home settled around them.
By the time the clock neared 10:30 PM, Joonghyuk stretched his arms with a tired sigh. He barely glanced at the table as he stood up. "I have work tomorrow," he muttered.
"I'm going to sleep," he announced, his voice firm, daring anyone to argue.
Sua simply nodded, not one for unnecessary chatter.
"Night, Daddy," Ivan chirped.
Joonghyuk turned his sharp gaze on both of them. "Don’t stay up too late," he warned. "Both of you."
"Okayyy," Ivan drawled, already grinning.
Joonghyuk narrowed his eyes but let it slide. Satisfied—though skeptical—he stepped toward Dokja, pressing a brief kiss to his temple. "You too."
Dokja only hummed, flipping a page in his book.
With one last glance at his children, Joonghyuk disappeared into his room.
Ivan slumped against the table with a dramatic sigh. "We survived."
Dokja chuckled
After about an hour, at 11 PM, Sua stood up and stretched slightly before heading toward the hallway.
"Going to bed too?" Dokja asked as she passed by.
"Going to my room," she corrected, placing her plate in the sink. "I have things to do."
"Texting?" Ivan teased.
Sua raised a brow, unfazed. "Are you projecting?"
Ivan scoffed but had no real comeback. She wasn’t wrong.
She adjusted her sleeves and turned away. "Goodnight, Papa."
Dokja gave a small nod. "Goodnight."
Ivan watched her disappear into her room, exhaling as the air settled.
With Sua gone and the house quiet, Ivan stretched out on the couch, lazily scrolling through his phone while Dokja sat nearby, book in hand.
The soft glow of the living room lamp flickered against the walls, the only sounds being the occasional rustle of pages and the faint tapping of Ivan’s fingers against his screen.
"You’re getting impatient," Dokja mused, eyes still on his book.
"No," Ivan denied immediately—then glanced at the clock. 11:50 PM.
Dokja smirked knowingly.
Ivan huffed, dramatically flopping onto the couch. "Waiting is suffering."
"You sound like your dad," Dokja noted.
Ivan gagged. "Don’t say that."
Another minute passed.
"Ugh, can’t we just skip to midnight?" Ivan groaned into the cushion.
Dokja turned a page, voice amused. "What, and disrupt the sacred passage of time?"
"Yes," Ivan grumbled.
11:59 PM.
Dokja stood, smoothing out his sleeves as he reached for the lighter. Ivan shot up instantly, eyes gleaming as he moved toward the small cake waiting on the table.
The room dimmed, shadows flickering as the warm glow of candlelight filled the space. Two slices were cut—one for Ivan, one for Dokja—each with a single candle standing tall.
The air felt still, thick with quiet anticipation.
Ivan stared at the flame, expression unreadable for a moment, then closed his eyes. He didn’t have to think too hard about his wish. Taking a slow breath, he blew out the candle.
For a second, the room remained dark—then a warm hand ruffled his hair.
Ivan blinked up to see Dokja watching him with that soft, tired smile—the one that held all the love in the world.
“Happy birthday, kiddo,” Dokja murmured.
A grin broke across Ivan’s face as he leaned into the touch, like an overgrown cat. “Thanks, Papa.”
Before the moment could settle, a blur of movement shot past them.
Fwip.
Ivan’s eyes narrowed as he caught a glimpse of Sua, standing a little too casually near the cake. "Did you just steal the whipped cream?"
Licking her fingers, she raised an eyebrow. "And what if I did?"
Ivan gasped, dramatically offended. "That was mine."
"Oh, please," she scoffed, already turning away. "It’s all gonna end up in your stomach anyway."
Their bickering filled the air, soft and familiar, playful swats exchanged like a well-practiced routine.
Dokja leaned against the table, propping one elbow up as he watched them, the candlelight flickering in his eyes.
Then, finally, the clock hit 12:00.
Dokja exhaled, slow and steady, before leaning forward and blowing out his own candle. The flame vanished into the dark—but the warmth in the room remained, lingering between them like an unspoken promise.
Happy birthday to them.
Dokja look at the kids and shook his head with a fond sigh before ushering them both toward the kitchen. "Alright, enough. Cakes go in the fridge, we can eat it tomorrow, and you two go to bed before your dad wakes up and murders us all."
Ivan groaned but complied, stuffing the cake into the fridge while Sua, looking entirely unaffected, was already disappearing into her room.
With one last glance at the dimly lit house, Dokja padded quietly back to his shared room.
The moment he climbed into bed, the slight shift in weight stirred Joonghyuk awake.
A tired hum, then a strong arm wrapped around Dokja, pulling him in without hesitation.
"Mm... you're late," Joonghyuk murmured, voice low and rough from sleep.
"Had to make sure they didn’t burn the house down," Dokja whispered, settling into the warmth.
Joonghyuk hummed again, eyes barely open as he nuzzled against Dokja’s hair. Then, lips brushed softly against his temple.
"Happy birthday," Joonghyuk mumbled, voice barely above a breath.
Dokja smiled, eyes slipping shut as he let himself sink into the comfort of Joonghyuk’s hold.
"Mm. Thanks," he whispered back.
The room was quiet again, the warmth of Joonghyuk’s embrace lulling him into sleep—safe, warm, home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ivan shut the door behind him with a quiet click, stretching his arms as he let out a sigh. The house was finally silent, the warmth of the late-night celebration still lingering in the air.
He went through his usual routine—grabbing his toothbrush, washing his face, towel-drying his hair. The cool night air felt nice against his skin as he flopped onto his bed, reaching for his phone out of habit.
A notification caught his eye.
Till – 11:59 PM
"Happy last-minute birthday."
Ivan stared at the message, his thumb hovering over the screen. It was simple, almost casual—but somehow, it made something warm settle in his chest.
He exhaled, a small, lopsided smile tugging at his lips.
Tucking his phone under his pillow, Ivan closed his eyes.
Sleep came easily that night.