𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋! | ateez

birthday boy (don't get cake in your eyes)

NOVEMBER 7TH, 2120 A.D
—AURORA SPACECRAFT.
[115 DAYS TO MARS.]

five a.m. in the spacecraft residency is hongjoong's favourite time- the one-hour mark before everyone wakes up, and the ship whirs to life with seven more awake bodies. and after a couple nights of planning a last-minute route to mars in order to prevent the meteor shower collision, it's safe to say the commander can afford a lie-in today. usually, he enjoys floating through the navigation room, coffee flask in hand, listening to the way his heartbeat matches the whirs and clicking of technology, watching the unwavering stars blink back at him as the grasps of sleep weaken around him, and weather reports from all over the galaxy catch his attention; a debris shower on jupiter, a new supernova by pluto, and so forth. but today, he's lying on his stomach, pencil in hand, tongue poking out as he sketches a new portrait. call him weird, but after seeing the same seven faces for two weeks, he's indiscreetly decided to use them as his newest muses. currently, he's sketching a picture of san staring through a window at a star-ridden sky- a real-life event that he'd walked past only yesterday, and a sight his hands have been itching to memorialise onto paper. hongjoong's sketches are usually modest in size, although the KQSA superiors in charge of supplies were happy enough to give him enough art materials to last the next decade or so.

he's got his music volume on the lowest settting as the machinery in his sleeping pod hums along to the tune. it's never silent around the ship- something he's eternally grateful for (he's sure he'd have gone insane by now if not).

the captain is deeply immersed in drawing until a strange noise outside his door catches his attention.

his ears hyper-focus on the hum and click of a sleeping pod door opening and shutting. it's curious, as none of the boys would ever be up now (the vast majority of the crew are late sleepers and late risers- typical), but he supposes maybe someone's gone to get a cup of water or something. from the faint sound of it, hongjoong suspects it's one of the younger members; himself and seonghwa are the closest to the entrance of the sleeping quarters- his pod on the left, seonghwa's opposite, and each pod gets further down the corridor in age order. if he's really bothered to care, then maybe he suspects san or mingi is up. but he puts pencil to paper once again, nonplussed.

until he hears it again, a little closer to his pod (yeosang? yunho?). and again. he guesses two of the members have bumped into each other, beacsue there's a slight giggle and a prompt shh! afterwards.

he counts four, five, six, seven pod doors sliding open and shutting. what the hell?

they're up to something, he knows it. but honestly, he's too relaxed to care right now. he closes his sketch pad and floats to the small, circular window on the wall, ready to daydream and wade through his thoughts before the six o'clock alarm rings throughout the ship.

he checks the little digital alarm clock above his bed. half-past five. the quiet humming nurses his mind and he breathes in deeply, tranquil.

slam. "HONGJOONGIE HYUNG, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" cries a thousand deafening voices. seven streamers are blown at once. ah, his birthday.

there are now seven more men shoved into his pod, party hats on and streamers being used to their full extent.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY! wake up, wake up, wake up, hyung!" jongho's noisy demands echo around his small room, with san and mingi pulling him up and out of his pod and into the living quarters. he's speechless, surprised beyond words.