. Birthday. - Tumblr Posts

PHONING... 𓂃 ࣪˖ birthday.

Over the years, you’ve become jaded of your dream to find a love that would provide a home for your heart. One chance encounter is enough to change those days forever.

જ⁀➴♡ wc 2k ✧ fluff , huening kai x reader

As a child, you would drift in and out of libraries filled with dead poets and their musky scent. Pages upon pages filled with musings of love long lost, only immortalized on those pages that began to yellow and fade with time.

Most people found themself drawn to poems about love, searching for the words to describe what they all longed for— true romance.

Unlike them, you often found yourself fixating on the books that held the passage of time. Maybe there was something that the authors knew, something that would make it all make sense.

You held them in your hands and breathed them in wanting so much to be part of their world. To understand and learn from them— to find something to fight for.

The books told you one day your poetry would be whispered on the lips of your lover, that time would slow and all that would remain was your love.

It was within these pages that you found yourself believing that was the only thing time could never take away.

With this came the yearning and soon your birthday wishes were replaced with something of a much heavier weight.

Overtime, you grew to dislike your birthday. It wasn’t always like that, though.

One year you would love it, others you would hate it.

One thing that always remained was the feeling of loneliness, even while surrounded by people smiling and clapping.

Somehow your birthday felt excruciatingly long but never long enough.

The existential dread that would come with facing the fact you were getting older and empty self-made promises.

The ritual of blowing the candles, the cutting of the cake— the mess of cream and sponge in your mouth.

Always your favorite, never changing flavors overtime because who was it for, if not you?

The taste was sweet and familiar, like a newly formed wish, fashioned from all the ones you've made before.

Cake began to be the only thing you looked forward to as you got older, until eventually you stopped eating it altogether.

You don't remember the wishes you made in sequence or the things you ask for.

You only recall the ones you wanted the most, like the f/c scarf you saw in a shop’s display window when you were thirteen.

The admiration for how perfect the mannequin seemed to wear it, partnered with a perfectly coordinated outfit.

How deeply you yearned to wear it as flawlessly as it had, maybe then someone would see you and fall in love just how you did in that moment.

How deeply you felt its’ absence when you sat and stared at the litter of torn wrapping paper, empty new possessions littered around as you waited for the next one— only for it to never come.

And even though it was trivial to everyone else, your heart ached at its’ failing.

You found yourself wondering what the cause of such heartache was.

The books said that the greatest heartache came from loving another soul, beyond any doubt or reason.

It was with realizing this, you called yourself lucky to have never been in love with anyone as much as you’d been in love with that scarf.

As long as your love was directed towards the minuscule things, you would be safe.

Yet deep down, a part of you still yearned for someone to look at you and convince you to take that risk. So you would try over and over again, despite the promise of heartache, to find what you wanted.

To have someone to spend your birthday with.

After all, what was more poetic than one’s birthday?

A day spent celebrating your life and your future, reflecting on the past and wishing for your future.

Or facing the inevitable end, remembering your final destination.

And even though it wasn’t death you feared itself, the idea of facing it alone seemed devastating.

Your wishes always changed.

Like the year you turned fifteen and your best friend's mother got really sick.

Despite all the stories your friend had shared with you about their relationship, when you found her breaking down at the news: you felt that heartache again.

All you wanted was for her to be okay again.

It was that year you learned that shooting stars were either a blessing or a curse, depending on what you wanted to believe.

In your case, for that year, it seemed to be a curse.

On your seventeenth birthday, you found yourself falling in love for the first time. Or at least, you thought so in the moment.

Walking out of your front door anxiously fidgeting with the bottom of your shirt as you made your way to his car, only for him to meet you halfway.

Standing on the sidewalk where he brought you red roses and a promising smile.

“Happy birthday.” He said.

When he broke your heart, you cried for days.

Many birthdays came and went.

One by one, you loved them and just as easily, they were lost to you.

Somewhere amidst the carnations and mistletoe you slowly learned more about love than the books ever told.

Love was messy and almost unattainable. Love was seemingly temporary, but inevitably painful.

Little by little, your heart that was once a bouquet of hope and ecstasy blossomed into one of tenderness and betrayal.

You wondered if you would ever be able to shed that loneliness that came every year, always the same day.

Then you met him.

Your meeting was clumsy and unusual, just like him as he flashed you a friendly smile and uttered a quick apology.

You stood in the doorway with the box of a now crooked birthday cake, dumbfounded.

It wasn’t until he waved his hand in front of your face and asked if you were okay that you had snapped out of it.

“I’m… okay.” Your voice was hesitant, unsure of how to proceed.

Everything in your heart yelled at you to keep the conversation going— to say anything to keep him here, in this moment.

“I’m not so sure about my cake, though.”

Looking down to realize the cake that was once decorated with intricate roses and beautiful cursive lettering was now lopsided and smudged, he furrowed his eyebrows.

“We should fix that then.” And he smiled, signaling for you to follow him back into the bakery the two of you had collided in front of.

The two of you had waited in the line to the register to explain the situation and see if there was any hope for you to get a quick replacement.

A face straight out of a magazine, it was a miracle you hadn’t recognized him. Longing glances and the sound of whispers nearby should have tipped you off but to you, everything besides his voicr was simply white noise.

Holding your breath next to the handsome stranger, you found yourself hoping that the line would never move.

“Huening Kai, by the way.”

“Huh?”

“I said Huening Kai, that’s my name.” His voice was patient and even bubbly.

“Oh.” Was all you could say.

“I really hope your friends’ birthday doesn’t get ruined— I should have been watching where I was going, haha…” He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and you found yourself falling further into his boyish charms.

You felt much younger than you were, that feeling of your heart fluttering you only felt once when that boy had given you roses.

How special he must have been to give you that simply by smiling.

“It’s… my birthday, actually.” It took you a moment to admit and he must have noticed with how he nodded.

“Well, I hope I didn’t ruin your birthday then.”

“It’s really no problem, I’m not doing much anyways so… there really isn’t any need for you to get me a replacement.”

Pulling back on the idea, he seemed to pick up on the slight embarrassment you had.

“It was a beautiful cake, but it’s fine. Really.”

“A beautiful cake for a beautiful girl, right?”

The blood rushed to your cheeks and you swore you could have stumbled over from how lightheaded you became. And he simply laughed, quickly apologizing for his teasing.

“Haha I’m sorry, I just don’t know your name.”

In that line you stood, dressed in a messy accumulation of whatever clothes you could find in a rush out of your apartment and your hair tussled about.

You certainly didn’t feel beautiful but you found yourself believing his words, despite it all. Maybe you were the tiniest bit hopeful.

“Huh? Oh, it’s Y/N…”

“Right. Happy birthday, Y/N!”

You weren’t sure if he knew it then but in that moment, all of those wasted birthdays seemed worth it because you had endured them to get to that moment.

The moment he came into your life, the best birthday gift you could ever ask for.

Without even knowing who he was prior, Huening Kai was the first man you fell in love with, completely and beyond reason, beyond any shadow of doubt you knew. You finally understood was the books spoke of.

He brought you dandelions each date.

You asked him why, if he thought they were pretty.

“They’re as pretty as you~” He’d joke.

The real reason, you later found out, was so you would never want for wishes.

Even on birthdays, he began to bring you that weed.

Somehow, you found the weed more romantic than any flowers you’d been given before simply for the meaning behind it.

A secret meaning just for the two of you.

It wasn’t a long time before the two of you had given yourselves to each other completely, jumping in head first.

It was your first birthday with him.

You never explained to him your distaste for your birthday but it didn’t stop him from encouraging the two of you to celebrate together.

Until then, it had always been the same every year. As soon as the first match was struck, the smell of burning takes you backward through your memory.

It stopped you right at that moment on that warm night, after your first heartbreak where you watched the first trickle of melting wax hit the icing and you found yourself crying for the love you thought you had lost.

Now there you were, the wax melting ever so slowly again, pouring down to deface the beautiful cake he had ordered for you. Combing through your memory, you tried to find something to wish for.

Something new or something old, it didn’t matter.

But you couldn't think of a single thing you had wanted— because he was standing there, in the lickering light, asking you to make a wish.

Messy blonde hair in his face as he leaned into his hoodie with that smile, the one you fell in love with had you holding your breath in the candlelight.

You looked deep into his eyes and saw the very best of yourself reflected back, all with love.

And you knew: he loved you, beyond reason, beyond doubt, and with no hope of salvation.

You knew your being happy was an anomaly and no one knew you better than he.

But for once, your resolve was firm and without avoiding his gaze, without crossing your fingers behind your back; or the other things you did when speaking untruthfully—you told him you were happy.

On your birthday, warm in the candlelight where your heart felt as if it were floating away.

The rain doesn’t discriminate between day or night and either will hold its own light and dark, you had learned over the years.

Through years of crying in bedroom closets, office cubicles and club bathrooms: the rain never discriminates.

You smiled nervously, feeling almost guilty for not having a wish. Despite this, you blew out the candles.

But as you went to confess your strange lack of want for anything materialistic or otherwise, he cut you off in that same playful voice.

“I love you, Y/N.”

And it was then you knew in your heart, you would always look back on that time-not without a sense of melancholy— that it was the happiest in your life.

Birthday or not, it didn’t matter anymore as long as you were with him.

After that, he never pressured you to celebrate again.

Some years the two of you had your cake and others, when your anxiety of mortality crept up on you, the two of you would treat it the same as any other day.

Of course it was the same as any other day but not without the extra caresses and gentle ‘I love you’s.

Kai hadn’t completely changed you or somehow healed that broken part of you by gifting you dandelions and pinky promises but that didn’t matter.

And now this was the year you were sure you would spend the rest of your lives together. The two of you had fallen completely in love, for the first and last time with each other.

This year where there weren't any candles— just the two of you walking late at night through the city streets with your heart in each other’s hands.

How thankful you were that you had given yourself to the first stranger who called you beautiful on your birthday.

જ⁀➴♡ phone in ᝰ.ᐟ