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Yeonjun was the kind of person who seemed to drag the sun around with him wherever he went.
It wasn’t even intentional. He just had that kind of smile—the wide, bright kind that split his face open and made strangers want to smile back. He laughed loudly, the sound spilling into crowded lecture halls, hallways, cafés. It was no wonder he was surrounded by people constantly, half the campus orbiting him like he was the center of their universe.
And then there was Soobin.
Where Yeonjun was sunshine, Soobin was the moon—calm, still, always watching but never demanding the spotlight. Tall, straight-backed, serious-faced, he looked like the type who’d tell you off for chewing too loudly in a library. People whispered about him sometimes: “intimidating,” “cold,” “scary-smart.” He didn’t mind. He didn’t correct them.
But Yeonjun knew better.
Right now, Yeonjun was sprawled on a bench outside their building, legs bouncing as he talked animatedly with two classmates about some new dance routine. Soobin stood behind him, holding Yeonjun’s bag in one hand like it weighed nothing, the other hand tucked into his pocket. He wasn’t part of the conversation—he rarely was—but his eyes flickered to Yeonjun every few seconds, quiet, steady, almost protective.
Yeonjun turned suddenly, as if sensing the stare. His grin was instant.
“Bin!” He reached back, catching Soobin’s sleeve and tugging him closer, like he was pulling the tide to shore. “Don’t just stand there like a statue. Come sit.”
“I’m fine here.” Soobin’s tone was flat, but he let Yeonjun tug him until he sat anyway.
One of the classmates glanced between them, a little intimidated by Soobin’s unreadable expression. Yeonjun only found it funny. He leaned in, whispering loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Careful. He looks like he’s plotting your downfall, but he’s just shy.”
Soobin sighed, setting Yeonjun’s bag down beside the bench. “Stop scaring people.”
“You’re the one doing the scaring!” Yeonjun countered, eyes crinkling with laughter. He reached up, poking Soobin’s cheek with one finger. “Look at this face. Dead serious. Terrifying.”
Soobin swatted his hand away, but his ears flushed pink.
The classmates excused themselves a moment later, leaving the two alone. Yeonjun immediately flopped sideways, resting his head on Soobin’s shoulder with a satisfied hum.
“Much better,” he murmured.
Soobin shifted slightly to balance him. “You’re heavy.”
“You love it.”
Silence for a beat. Then: “…Maybe.”
Yeonjun giggled. He lived for these little cracks in Soobin’s stoic armor, the rare moments where his boyfriend let softness slip through.
Later that afternoon, they wandered into a small café near campus. Yeonjun talked the whole way there—about rehearsal schedules, about a new song he’d been obsessed with, about how one of his friends tripped during class and made a whole scene. Soobin listened quietly, occasionally humming in response. It might’ve looked one-sided from the outside, but Yeonjun never doubted that Soobin was listening to every word.
Inside the café, Yeonjun ordered his usual iced latte. Soobin got tea. They sat by the window, the sunlight spilling golden across the table.
Yeonjun stirred his drink lazily, straw clinking against the glass. “You know what I suddenly really, really want?”
Soobin glanced up. “What?”
“Cake.” Yeonjun sighed dramatically, slumping in his chair. “Like… a soft, creamy, fluffy cake. The kind you get on birthdays, but I don’t want to wait until mine.”
Soobin’s expression didn’t change. “Then buy one.”
“But it’s not the same,” Yeonjun whined, resting his chin on his palm. “I want it to taste like effort, you know? Like love.”
Soobin’s brow twitched, but he said nothing. He simply sipped his tea.
Yeonjun didn’t notice. He was already off on another tangent, rambling about whether he should try baking himself. But the thought stuck in Soobin’s head, quiet and persistent.
Later, when Yeonjun was distracted scrolling through his phone, Soobin reached across the table to fix the collar of his shirt. Yeonjun blinked up at him, surprised, then softened into one of those heart-melting smiles.
“You take care of me too much,” he teased.
Soobin looked away. “…Not enough.”
Yeonjun’s laugh rang out, bright and easy, filling the little café.
He didn’t see the way Soobin’s gaze lingered, the way his serious face softened for just a second. He didn’t know that his offhand wish for cake was already quietly taking root in Soobin’s mind.
The next afternoon, Yeonjun was busy at dance practice. Which meant Soobin finally had the rare opportunity to slip away unnoticed.
The bell above the small bakery door jingled as he walked in. The shop was cozy, the air warm with the scent of sugar and butter. Behind the counter stood a woman dusting flour from her apron. She glanced up—and froze.
Soobin was tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing the same serious expression that made freshmen scatter in lecture halls. Combined with his silence, it gave the impression that he’d come to file a complaint about their entire existence.
“…Can I help you?” she asked carefully.
Soobin cleared his throat. “I want to… bake a cake.”
The woman blinked. Then blinked again. “…You?”
Soobin’s jaw tightened, but his ears flushed pink. “Yes. Me.”
A slow grin spread across her face, amused rather than judgmental. “Alright then. Follow me.”
It turned out baking was… harder than Soobin thought.
The flour was too light; every time he poured it, a cloud puffed into the air and dusted his black sweatshirt. Cracking eggs looked easy on TV, but his first attempt left half the shell swimming in the bowl. The whisk felt too flimsy in his large hands, and when he tried mixing, flour shot out like snow.
The baker chuckled from the side. “You look like you’re fighting it, not stirring.”
Soobin gave her a flat look. “It started it.”
She laughed outright. “Who’s the cake for?”
He hesitated. His mouth moved before he could stop it. “…My boyfriend.”
The woman’s grin softened. “Ah. That explains the determination.”
Soobin didn’t reply, but he whisked more carefully after that, shoulders stiff with focus.
By the second attempt, it was going better. His movements steadied, his hands precise. When he poured the batter into the pan, he exhaled like he’d just passed an exam.
While it baked, he leaned against the counter, wiping flour from his fingers. His mind wandered.
Yeonjun’s smile came first. That bright, unstoppable grin that made Soobin feel like the world wasn’t such a heavy place. The way Yeonjun tugged him into conversations, into laughter, into life. The way he hugged him without hesitation, as if Soobin was the safest place in the world.
Soobin rarely said it aloud, but Yeonjun was everything. And for someone like Soobin, who wasn’t good with words or grand gestures, the only way he knew how to show it was through quiet effort.
If Yeonjun wanted cake, then he’d bake it. Even if it meant battling flour explosions and sticky fingers.
When the cake finally came out of the oven, golden and soft, Soobin stared at it with a kind of disbelief. It wasn’t perfect—the surface had a small crack, and the frosting he attempted looked slightly uneven. But it was his.
He stood there a long moment, arms crossed, lips pressed thin. And then, very quietly, he murmured, “…This better make you smile.”
On his way out, he carried the carefully boxed cake like it was glass. People glanced at him curiously, probably wondering why someone so intimidating was holding a pastel bakery box.
Soobin ignored them.
For once, he wasn’t worried about what people thought. He only thought about Yeonjun’s face when he saw it.
That evening, when Yeonjun bounded out of the practice room, sweaty and still buzzing with energy, Soobin was already waiting in the hallway.
Yeonjun’s whole face lit up. “Bin! You came to pick me up?” He launched himself forward, wrapping arms around Soobin without caring about the sweat.
Soobin grunted softly under the impact. “…Yeah.”
It was only then that Yeonjun noticed the box in his hands. He tilted his head, confused. “Wait. What’s that?”
Soobin adjusted his grip, suddenly awkward. “…It’s for you.”
Yeonjun blinked, curiosity sparking, but Soobin didn’t elaborate. He just walked ahead, ears pink, leaving Yeonjun to trail after him, bouncing with questions.
Back at Yeonjun’s apartment, Soobin placed the pastel box carefully on the coffee table. He stood awkwardly, hands shoved into his pockets, as if unsure whether to stay or flee.
Yeonjun eyed the box suspiciously, dropping onto the couch with the grace of a cat who had too much sugar. “Okay, spill. What’s this? Did someone give you free food? Did you rob a bakery?”
Soobin shot him a look. “…Why would I rob a bakery?”
“I don’t know,” Yeonjun said, grinning. “You look like the type who could pull it off. Scary face, silent demeanor. Perfect crime material.”
Soobin exhaled slowly, as if summoning patience. “It’s not stolen. Just… open it.”
Curious, Yeonjun flipped the lid. And froze.
Inside sat a cake. Not store-perfect—its frosting leaned slightly to the left, and the decoration was a little lopsided—but undeniably homemade. Soft sponge layers, thick cream in between, the whole thing smelling sweet and warm.
Yeonjun’s eyes widened. His voice came out half a whisper, half a laugh. “…You baked this?”
Soobin shifted his weight, gaze flicking away. “You said you wanted cake.”
There was a beat of silence. And then Yeonjun burst into the loudest laugh Soobin had ever heard. Not mocking—never mocking—but full of joy so bright it made Soobin’s chest ache.
“Oh my god, you actually listened?” Yeonjun’s hands flew up to cover his face, giggles spilling between his fingers. “Bin, you baked me a cake. You. In a kitchen. With flour.”
Soobin muttered, “…Don’t make it sound ridiculous.”
“It is ridiculous!” Yeonjun shot up, nearly bouncing in place, grabbing Soobin by the arms. “Ridiculously sweet. Ridiculously romantic. Ridiculously you.”
Before Soobin could reply, Yeonjun hugged him tight, pressing his face into Soobin’s chest. His laughter softened into something more tender, muffled against Soobin’s shirt. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
Soobin hesitated, then wrapped an arm around him, the corner of his lips twitching upward. “…You like it?”
“I love it.” Yeonjun pulled back, eyes sparkling, cheeks pink from both exertion and emotion. “Now sit. We’re eating this masterpiece together.”
They cut into the cake. The slices weren’t even—Yeonjun insisted on cutting them himself, and precision wasn’t his strong suit—but neither cared.
Yeonjun shoved a forkful into his mouth and immediately let out a dramatic moan. “Ohhh. Bin. This is it. This is love. Forget diamonds, forget flowers. You? In an apron? Beating eggs for me? That’s peak romance.”
Soobin glared, though his ears betrayed him by turning red. “…I wasn’t wearing an apron.”
Yeonjun gasped theatrically. “Wait, you baked without one? You rebel. Flour everywhere? Hair covered in sugar? Oh, I wish I could’ve seen it.”
“You will not.”
“I’m picturing it right now,” Yeonjun teased, leaning closer. “Tall, serious Soobin, all covered in flour like a powdered donut—”
Soobin shoved a forkful of cake into his mouth to shut him up. Yeonjun laughed around the bite, nearly choking, before dissolving into giggles again.
Eventually, the laughter faded into something quieter. They sat close on the couch, plates balanced on their laps, Yeonjun leaning against Soobin like he belonged there.
Yeonjun set his fork down and turned, studying Soobin’s face. His usual grin softened into something gentler, almost shy.
“You really did all this… just because I said I wanted cake?”
Soobin looked at him steadily, no trace of embarrassment now. “…Yeah.”
Yeonjun’s throat tightened. He giggled, but it came out watery, his eyes shimmering. He pressed his forehead against Soobin’s shoulder, voice muffled. “You don’t even know how much I love you, do you?”
Soobin’s arm came around him, holding him close. For once, a small, genuine smile curved his lips. “I think I do.”
Yeonjun tipped his head back, eyes shining, and kissed him. Not playful, not teasing—just soft, slow, and full of everything words couldn’t cover.
When they finally pulled apart, Yeonjun laughed again, lighter this time. “Best cake I’ve ever had. Hands down. Not because of the taste—though it’s amazing—but because it’s from you.”
Soobin rolled his eyes, but his hand lingered on Yeonjun’s. “…You’re dramatic.”
“And you love it,” Yeonjun shot back, leaning in for another kiss.
This time, Soobin didn’t argue.
Much later, the cake half-eaten and crumbs scattered across the table, they lounged together under a blanket. Yeonjun rested his head on Soobin’s chest, humming contentedly.
“Next time,” he mumbled sleepily, “I’m gonna ask for cookies.”
Soobin snorted softly. “…You’re insufferable.”
Yeonjun giggled, nuzzling closer. “And you’re mine.”
The room fell quiet, filled only with the sound of their steady breaths. The imperfect cake sat on the table, the sweetest proof of all—the sunshine and the moonlight, meeting in the middle, loving each other exactly as they were.
🎂
A few days later, curiosity got the better of Yeonjun.
“Soobin,” he said casually one evening, stretched out on the couch, “where exactly did you go to bake that cake?”
Soobin, sitting beside him with a book, didn’t look up. “…A bakery.”
Yeonjun squinted. “Yeah I know that, but which one?”
Soobin flipped a page. “…Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters!” Yeonjun bounced upright. “My boyfriend baking a cake is, like, a national holiday. I need all the details. I need the address. I need witnesses!”
Soobin finally looked up, unimpressed. “No.”
Which was basically an invitation for Yeonjun to do the exact opposite.
The next afternoon, Yeonjun strolled into the bakery with his brightest smile, the kind that could melt glaciers.
Within minutes, a video was playing on his phone: Soobin, tall and serious, completely dusted in flour, cracking eggs wrong and whisking like he was preparing for battle.
Yeonjun doubled over, laughing so hard he nearly dropped the phone. “Oh my god. This is the best thing I’ve ever seen!”
That evening, he pounced on Soobin the second he walked into the apartment. “BIN. EXPLAIN. THIS.”
He shoved the phone under Soobin’s nose, the video already playing.
Soobin froze. His ears turned red instantly. “…You—how—”
“I charmed the aunty at the bakery.” Yeonjun collapsed against him in hysterics. “Look at you! Flour everywhere! You look like the cake personally insulted you!”
Soobin tried to snatch the phone, but Yeonjun danced away, still giggling. “This is gold. Actual gold. I’m keeping it forever.”
Soobin groaned, face in his hands. But when Yeonjun finally crawled back into his lap, still laughing helplessly, something unexpected happened.
Soobin laughed too. A real, warm laugh, rare and precious, bubbling out despite his embarrassment.
Yeonjun stilled for a moment, just listening, heart swelling. Then he wrapped his arms around him tight, phone forgotten for once.
“Best video ever,” he whispered against Soobin’s chest. “But hearing you laugh like that? Even better.”
Soobin pressed his lips to Yeonjun’s hair, smiling softly.
But Yeonjun only giggled, holding him closer.