💛 M Birthday 💛

07:32 a.m.

You groan internally as you walk along the street, intent on not being seen by M, who is at least ten feet ahead of you.

The good thing is they’re absorbed in their music, humming along to a tune from some musical their moms recommended a week ago. The same time they told M they wouldn’t be able to make it in for their birthday.

M tried to hide it, plastered on a smile like everything was fine. But you noticed the little cracks in their perfect façade: the slight furrow of their brow, the way their lips pulled down when they thought no one was looking.

“It’s fine,” they had said with a shaky smile. “I know you’re probably busy. I-I’ll see you… next time.”

You didn’t miss the way their face turned downcast when they thought you weren’t watching. That moment stuck with you, which is why you decided to plan a scavenger hunt for their birthday.

You’d been away for a week on a business trip. It was supposed to be good – more funding never hurt – but it was hard to focus knowing how much you were missing them. As soon as you returned this morning, you worked tirelessly to hide the clues, still avoiding seeing them directly.

Some were tucked around their apartment while they slept, others placed just hours ago – like the one in a book at the library, where the two of you were heading now.

The hunt was just a distraction, something to keep them occupied until their mom’s flight came in. You tug your coat tighter, still shaking off the dregs of sleep, and quicken your pace as M enters the library.

For someone who calls themselves a night owl, they’re far too energetic this early.

You stifle a yawn as you pass the receptionist, who glares at you. “Sorry, I’ll look more graceful next time,” you mumble, shuffling past.

From the corner of your eye, you watch as M practically skips through the aisles. You can’t help but smile at them. They dart from section to section, lingering in the kid's section just long enough to resist picking up a comic their moms got them years ago. When they move to non-fiction, you hear their laugh echo through the library as they find the note you hid in a book.

“Alright, one more,” they whisper, their voice carrying easily.

The final clue.  You smirk, knowing it’s located near their recently published novel on the second floor.

Your steps are quiet, but given how empty the library is they sound loud as you ascend the stairs. Sunlight filters through the windows, still fighting the lingering fog outside. It’s peaceful and cozy- a place you’ve come to appreciate because of M.

You maneuver between the stacks, weaving past the tables that consist of an old lamp on top. The overhead lights do little to help as you nearly trip over a chair in your rush to hide behind the shelf that holds the final clue.

M’s footsteps grow louder, and for a moment, it seems like they’ll come your way, finger tapping their lip as they hum softly, completely lost in thought.

Now’s my chance.

You slip closer to the shelf. Your fingers brush the spine of the book on the opposite side, ready to nudge it free when M reaches for it.

“Ah, there you are,” they murmur, pulling the small piece of paper from the book’s spine.

“You’ve made it far. This is the last clue. For your gift, pull the book from the shelf.”

You grip the book on your side, anticipation swirling in your chest.

M frowns. “Here goes nothing, I guess.”

As their fingers reach the spine, you give it a gentle nudge.

“Wha-“

They glare at the book as it wobbles free, catching it with one hand. But when they peer through the empty spot on the shelf, they spot you.

You wave, smiling sheepishly.

Their honey-brown eyes widen. “Shit!”

The scream echoes, deafening in the silent library. They stumble back, tossing the book behind them as they lose their balance. Time seems to slow as they fall, their headphones clattering to the ground.

“M!”

You’re by their side in seconds. Brushing a book off their forehead that had fallen off the desk they hit in their fall. There’s a quick surge of worry in your gut as you look at them. “Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay?”

M blinks up at you, dazed. Slowly, their cheeks flush pink. “M-my gift?”

You laugh softly, pushing the hair from their face. “Surprise.” You reach for the book that held the final clue – M’s recently published novel. A departure from their usual erotic fiction. “Sorry I scared you – “

Their lips press against yours, cutting you off. Soft, hesitant, but firm enough to make your heart skip. Their hand trembles slightly as it rests on the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

They were so nervous about kissing at first, always worried they were doing it wrong. But now? Now they kiss like they’re trying to make up for lost time, lips moving softly yet insistently.

“I missed you,” they whisper against your lips, their breath warm and eyes heavy-lidded.

“Likewise,” you murmur, smiling as they pull you in again.

Minutes feel like hours as you rest your forehead against theirs, both of you catching your breath.

“When did you get back?”

You hesitate, knowing they’ll be upset if you admit you’ve been back a few hours. “That’s not important. Are you okay?”

They nod their head, letting you help them stand. “So…you did all this.” They gesture to the papers stuffed in their pockets. It wasn’t a question, because M knows your handwriting as well as they do their own. They always joked you could learn about someone from how they write.

Without answering you pull them into a hug, soaking in their warmth and the way they relax within your arms. “Happy birthday.”

M presses their head into the crook of your neck, their skin warm against yours. Blushing again no doubt. “thank you.” At least you think that’s what they say their voice quiet yet high pitched at the same time. As if trying to fight off their embarrassment.

“M,”

“Hm?”

“I hope you like your gift.”

They laugh, though really it’s more of a light giggle. Their arms wrap around you even tighter, and you’re unsure if it’s your heart or theirs that’s beating fast between you.

M pulls back, just enough to look at you. To fully take in your presence. Their fingers brush against your cheek before tilting your head to them.

Capturing your lips once more, rougher this time. Like they’re trying to catch up on this past week. Their teeth sink into your lip eliciting a moan.

Their hands slide down to the edge of your jacket, gripping tightly as they press you against the nearest shelf.

The kiss deepens all soft sighs and quiet gasps. Their body perfectly fit against yours, their warmth chasing away the lingering chill of the morning.  

There’s tension, an undeniable longing in the air and for a moment you feel as if the kiss will escalate. Into uncharted territory between you, but the signs are all there.

Your fingers thread through their hair, and the world melts away momentarily.

Until –

“Don’t tell me you missed them more than us.”

M freezes, their lips still brushing yours. Slowly, they pull back, their eyes wide with horror.

“Mom?”

Standing a few feet away, their mother grins one eyebrow raised a stark contrast to that of her wife standing next to her.

“In a library?” She chides, hands on her hips.

M sputters, and if you thought you’d seen their face red before. Well, that couldn’t hold a candle to the color of their face now. “M-m-mom?!”

“Happy birthday, Marshmallow,” she says, winking. “We can come back later if you two need… a minute? Twenty?”

M claps their hands over their face, groaning into their palms. “Holy fucking sh-“

You bite back a laugh, trying to look apologetic. M, however, is bright red, muttering, “I can’t believe... this..this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“It could be worse. You two could have been…you know.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, you break into a deep laugh and M looks as if they want to do nothing more than cease to exist.

“Well,” their mom says, smirking. “This is going to be a birthday to remember.”