The scent of burned out candles hangs in the air, the barely noticed homely atmosphere mellowly illuminated by the former Christmas lights now functioning as fairy lights draped over the shedua beams, the tranquillity disturbed by the occasional sniffle or soft snore coming from the man who has finally come home to the palm green sheets after months of touring, just in time for the birthday today: his.

Arms pull the body back once the other presence resting on the collection of pillows in shades of ink black, snow white, stone grey and a forest tone matching the duvet, further igniting the wanting to simply lie down once more and curl up against the figure whose ghost has provided comfort in the period the real persona was away. Fingers clamp around the restriction and endeavour to pry it loose, but the attempt fails as the hold strengthens and arm veins, created over many intense hours in the gym and practice room, pop out. A nose presses itself into the fabric of the stolen shirt smelling of passionfruit with a bitter orange tang that now functions as a sleeping top, drowsily mumbling against the covered skin with the slightest hint of neediness. 'Y/N, don't... go. Stay... here. Wanna... cuddle.'

Though the temptation to give in is great, it is nevertheless resisted, even as a second attempt fails and the muzzling of already messy ebony locks whilst smiling affectionately at the barely awake boy clinging on like a koala does not much more in the way of escaping the bed. 'Kookie, let me go. It's time for breakfast.'

Evidently felt through the clothing, lips pout and despite not seeing it directly, the hesitant frown portraying being caught in the battle between food and a few more minutes of sleep is undoubtedly formed on the young man's handsome face. In spite of not being mentally prepared for any sort of meal as of yet, the stomach rumbles with the wish for nourishment, but it does not seem to faze the current company. 'Come on, I'm hungry.'

A lie, but otherwise, there will not be enough time to set up the first surprise of the day, which will only be beneficial to the both of us.

'I just... back. Missed... you. Few... min-' the rest of the ungrammatical sentence is left unspoken as Jungkook has slipped into unconsciousness again, the aftermath of giving concerts night after night with very little time to rest in the meantime, the precious days off which were, as per usual, spent with phone and Skype calls to home at sometimes foolish hours when not being with the rest of BTS, reclaiming the artist.

The hold weakens enough to achieve the set goal of fleeing the bed for a few moments to quietly slip away to the hallway of which the floor is made of oak, gleaming after yesterday's bi-daily clean-up session, and an alabaster and grey-striped wallpaper adorning the walls before heading down the white-lacquered stairs and arrive in the small kitchen, furniture and appliances tinted in matte shades of dusk, set against bleak walls on top of a cypress linoleum floor.

Soon the narrow space is filled with the scent of freshly baked bread, that truly stems from the reheated multigrain buns bought at the local bakery, and the clamor of a meal consisting of the dreamer's favourites in the process of preparation against a backdrop of the playlist composed by him during this tour and sent the moment it was finished. Since it was received, it has been constantly put on replay, so much so that now even the unknown songs are known by heart. It was the only thing directly connecting us beside the contact through screens via texts or calls by blue light.

It is a piece of home continuously away travelling to bring amazing music to those deaf to it and to those who have heard it before and follow it like the Pied Piper.

It is the exclusive loving part of him meant solely for one pair of ears, the way through which to say the three simple words that have ever only been said out loud by myself: "I love you".

It has never been easy, especially in the beginning when management wanted all boys to focus on their careers as idols, even more so after debut, romantic interests being seen as mere unnecessary interference and a potential distraction from reaching the set goals. After all, the fans would have to be given a chance to explore the personalities of seven handsome young men, maybe even have a shot with them, unlikely as it is. Flirt a bit on stage and during fanmeets, show aegyo that captures the hearts of ARMYs around the globe and never give off the message of being in an established relationship.

The fights with agents and even their own manager have always been inevitable once the subject comes up, Jungkook fiercely refusing to give up on the one thing that feels like a home outside the dorm shared with his best friends, who have tried to talk him into surrender in the past with clenched jaws and heavy hearts, ashamed to be asking the maknae to abandon what gives at least some sense of normalcy in a reality that is constantly getting busier as fame grows. During those days, the phone calls were stained with a hint of sorrow on the end of the man who was a mere boy at the beginning of the journey that has been going on for the past five years, sobs desperately trying to be contained since the gravity of the situation did not have to affect the other party as it did him.

But it did, since a break-up in best interest was frequently thought about as copious factors seemed to be against us, so many people just waiting for the opportunity they pushed to appear and be taken advantage of. Once, the idea was brought to the table during a quiet gaming night in, Jungkook going silent at the inquiry at first only to burst out into an uncharacteristic passionate argumentation without room for commentary as to why the very concept of going our separate ways just so others could gain their right was absurd. Tears began to well at the suggestion of living without one another when the well-reasoned rage had subsided, the memory of the shivering shattered composure of the beloved still imprinted in the arms that held him tight throughout the night with the promise to be there when morning came and all the mornings thereafter.

And that promise has never been broken.

From a small Tupperware box in the lacquered cupboard overhead, is the small cupcake retrieved that was left over from the batch made a week ago, all others given to friends coming randomly over to fill the silent apartment for a few hours when the one it is actually shared with is not around, and specially saved for this occasion, this being emphasized by the silver wrapper and golden-sprayed buttercream on top.

It is placed on the large serving tray fished from the drawer beneath the gas plate on a small saucer beside the two winter white red-rimmed dishes of multigrain buns - one displaying two stuffed with a bacon omelette cut in half to fit the tiny breads and the other plating two filled with a natural omelette on a bed of lettuce - beneath the medium-sized bowl from which two forks protrude filled with a fruit salad and two glasses of banana milk.

Our favourites, unfortunately not showcased in unison enough in the years spent together, but each time they are, the mere sight provides an indescribable comfort that can only be endeavoured to be described as a safe haven in a world that is ruled by the madness of the public eye and even this description does not come anywhere close to the actual feeling.

Upstairs the bed seems to be empty aside from the sleeping blanket burrito that rolls instinctively over at the sound of footsteps heading up the stairs, their creaking loud in the morning hush and making the nose scrunch up in the hope the noise does not wake the dreamer, bare back exposed to the cool September air blowing through the window of which the curtains softly sway on the breeze betraying there is still someone occupying the sheets.

Gently the tray is set down on the basswood nightstand that was formerly a crate used for the transport of goods in the harbour, reticent steps made around the bed to sit down on the edge of the other side and let fingers glide over smooth muscled skin, writing the message that still is showing in everything we do: I love you. Jungkook has never said the three words out loud, but rather shows it by texts checking up on well-being or just to wish a good night or good morning, and if there is time, the conversations held deep into the night, some resulting in dozing off together whilst the Skype call keeps going only to see the "call ended" screen come morn because the internet connection has fallen away during the night. However, there have been fortunate days when the sleepy face of the sweet singer displayed on the screen is the first thing seen at the beginning of the day.

Notwithstanding, it never beats this: being in the same room, able to touch each other instead of endeavouring to do so by holding our hands to the electronic wall separating us, hearing the softest of sniffles and snores which turn into appreciating hums when digits run through silky onyx locks, the colour he always returns to even when the more crazier ventures befit the young man quite well too.

A wavering hand wanders the air for a bit before clamping down on the forearm, giving it a powerful jerk which makes the body fall on the mattress, head resting on the collection of pillows once more. The sleeper turns on this side and wraps strong arms around the waist, pulling us together in a tight embrace, wherein I instinctively curl up into him. A chaste kiss on the forehead is followed by the drowsily mumbled uncharacteristic words that were thought never to be heard directly. 'I love you too.' From beneath full lashes of hooded eyes, the dark friendly orbs light up with a slight hint of mischief at the view of surprise etched into my features, a grin reminiscent of a bunny forming on the lips. 'Good morning, by the way.'

'It's your birthday, not mine.' Once there had been a joke about how it would be a splendid present for growing yet another year older to hear the reciprocated confession out loud instead of it being shown through gestures and although it was laughed off, the serious hint of contemplation in Jungkook's gaze could not be denied.

'Not important, doesn't make me want to say it less because I should do so more often. You always tell me you love me and I never confirm it.' Long fingers caress the left cheek, push a strand of hair gone astray aside and trace every detail of the face. 'I really should.'

'You're too sweet, but I know you rather show than tell and that's perfectly alright. Nonetheless, do you know what you really should do now?' An eyebrow rises in confusion, forehead slightly creasing in wonder as to what requires to be done, making the corners of the mouth curl up in delight at the prepared surprise waiting to be seen. 'Turn around.'

The warm protection fades, the temperature seeming to drop with a few degrees immediately when the hug is broken off to turn to the bedside table from which the comforting scent of freshly baked, reheated, bread permeates the air. With clear glee, Jungkook hoists himself up and picks up the tray filled with food to place it on our laps after me following suit, back resting against the cushions and nestled into his side, sheets covering our legs. 'You did this?'

'Of course, silly. It's your birthday.' Briefly, there is a silence as an unsure gaze drifts off to the sheets, staring deeply into the palm green at the sudden realization of a privilege that has been had all this time yet the meaning of it has never fully dawned until now. 'And I'm glad you share it with me even though the guys can come over to celebrate.'

Every year if the singer is home, even during tour when thousands of ARMY sing "Happy birthday" and organize amazing projects, it is simply us two truly celebrating his birthday either via Skype after the show to talk the night away or in this way with the whole day to ourselves to play "Overwatch" and binge watch anime. The day after is preserved to hold a kind of after-party with the rest of the band and even then, I am there. That is pure happiness for the maknae: having all the ones who are held dear get along and coming together to rejoice in the growing older of one who is loved in return just as much.

The reverie is halted by the swipe of a finger over the nose, leaving behind a dollop of golden buttercream. Surprised by this sudden act, eyes dart to the side where a teasing lopsided grin challenges me to do something in return, before it turns soft and the frosting is nipped off with a tender kiss that changes into a sugary trail of pecks to the lips. 'Tomorrow's another day fit for festivities, but we're all still knackered from the tour so I don't think they'd be up for it. Today, I just want to lie in bed with you, relax and eat this. Once a year I can be selfish, so you bet I'll make use of that chance.'

A shake of the head, denying the statement laced with what can be mistaken for egotism via a reassuring voice nuancing it. 'You're still being selfless. I mean, you can easily rest up by finally catching up on all those hours without sleep like the others, energize the way we introverts do by simply being alone and yet you want to spend the day with someone, with me. I can't call that being selfish because that would entail doing what I just said, even though we would be alone together.'

The singer's head resting on top of mine, fingers entwine in the temporary hush in which the denial is contemplated whilst stares fix on the bundle of digits, his thumb softly caressing mine, until Jungkook breaks the silence. 'Is it selfish to want to spend the day with the one I want to keep to myself since you're a source of energy aside from solitude and I get jealous whenever I notice other men giving you attention, even my own friends, or is it indeed generous to, tired as I still am, spend the little energy I have regained with the girl I always feel like is being neglected during touring despite all that we do to keep in contact?' A loving kiss on the back of the lifted hand, followed by one on the left temple, a soft chuckle once the joyful grin is noticed and formed by his doing. 'I don't know, but what I do know is that I find happiness either way.'

Nevertheless, it is evident the former applies since the young man is all but egocentric.

The maknae is charitable in the colour the artist has made his own, has formed into a title.

He is selflessly golden.