Moral of the Story || seongsang · 2ho

18. Birthday dinner

Wooyoung and San, after having spent the night, were fighting over counter space in the kitchen.

The younger was trying desperately to push his beef laden cutting board into San's claimed, floured area.

Why San had coated the counter in flour to make a cake, Seonghwa did not know.

The oldest was currently frozen, on a stool, streamers and tape in hand, watching the disaster-waiting-to-happen in the kitchen.

But when Wooyoung decided to point his bloody knife at San, Seonghwa had enough.

"YA!" He scolded, stepping down. "Jung Wooyoung, that is- -NO!"

Wooyoung smirked as San backed away. Seonghwa came closer. "Young-ah," his Soul called sweetly, "put down the knife."

But the younger just started to laugh, walking toward his Soul. That was until he saw Seonghwa's parental glare. He practically choked, dropping his hand, "Sorry," and went back to peacefully cutting the beef.

Seonghwa turned to his left. "San?" And the younger looked at him. "What's with the flour?"

"That's not flour," San chuckled sheepishly. "It's powdered sugar. I'm making fondant, to write Jongho-ssi's name."

And Seonghwa relaxed immediately at San's kindness. Smiling he pulled the younger into a hug, "Yeosang will be so happy."

"And Yunho! He'll be happy!" Called said boy as he entered the kitchen. "Seonghwa," Yeosang continued. "I thought you were doing streamers?"

And Wooyoung bit his lip, trying not, but failing, to smirk.

Seonghwa merely smiled sweetly. "Yes, Shin-bi," Wooyoung and San smirked at the name. "I am. I was only sidetracked by Wooyoung trying to murder his other half."

Yeosang looked nervously over to his best friend, but got no explanation. The oldest floated back over to atop his still and began retaping the colored ribbons.

"OKAY!" Yeosang clapped his hands, grabbing everyone's attention. "We have two hours until their arrival, people! Reports please."

San rolled his accomplishments off first. "Cake is in the oven, three layers. Byul-ssi is coming down in a minute to make frosting. I'm almost done with fondant."

The blond looked on proudly as San went back to his sugary tasks, and Wooyoung spoke up next.

"Miyeokguk is underway." He tossed the beef and fresh seaweed into a skillet and began to stir. "I'll start the plain rice momentarily, but we're also doing kimchi fried rice in honor of Jongho-ssi's mama. Lastly is tofu skewers. Seonghwa Hyung made the Japchae earlier and it's chilling in the fridge." The chef looked up, as if daring Yeosang to to critique him. But the older nodded, pleased.

Seonghwa's turn. "The streamers are almost up and I'll set the table next. As Wooyoung said, Japchae is chilling. Your abeoji outside cutting flowers for the table and to weave."

Yeosang left as Eomma came in to help San and went to his own task: a card. He had bought one last night, Happy Birthday. But what to write. . .?

But ink to paper, thinking, he began to glide.

After one half was done, he moved to the other side of the card to write a note to his living uncle and special guest.

Yeosang smiled, inspecting it once more. Folding the paper, slipping it into an envelope, he brought it out to the beautifully decorated dining room table. One could tell it had been Seonghwa in charge there.