Disco Girl #2

“Denji, where the hell did you put the candles?”

“paws off the cake. now.”

“did you keep Powy and I up just to torture us? m’so tired I might fall face first into these dumb decorations.”

the culprit—the cause of this quiet chaos? the birthday of your grumpy, raven-haired roommate who would probably spend this time berating the whole of you for making a mess had it not been out of care for him.

you, Power, and Denji stood crowded around the kitchen counter, a number of banners and balloons strewn about your surroundings. clearly, you noticed immediately upon assigning them the jobs of setting up said decorations, they were not the most synchronized pair—in the face of festivities, at least. ribbons were lopsided. the handwriting on ‘Happy Birthday, Hayakawa’ was lopsided (though sketched with a sort of intent you knew the rowdy teenager who wrote it would never admit, so you had to appreciate the sentiment about it). you were just glad you took on cake duty; it was at least somewhat uniform in its composition.

you were in a whisper-yelling squabble with Denji over picking at the icing on the back of the cake when Power took a gander at the time and, with no apparent knowledge on the art of discreteness, said, “we are meant to awaken topknot when the clock strikes midnight, are we not?”

you and Denji turned to look for yourselves in a nearly mirrored motion. 12:01.

“shit! why wouldn’t you say something earli-“

“be quiet and finish up,” you grumbled, giving the boy a light smack on the back of the head. his only reaction was to shoot you a look as he rubbed the impacted area of his skull before turning back to Power while you speed-walked down the hall.

the door to Aki’s room was nudged open ever so slowly. there he lay amidst the darkness, still on his back like he was awaiting a coffin. you crept in, tiptoeing across the distance to his bed until you stood over his slumbering form. you leant down and nudged his shoulder. he did not budge for a moment, but after another jostle or two, he stirred.

“mmph… what?”

“aki.” you shook him again. “wake up.”

his nose scrunched, a subtle crease forming at the bridge as his eyes fluttered open. the sapphire hues of his irises locked with yours, still bleary and perhaps more than slightly annoyed at being woken up, but deep with the recognition that came with the intimacy of knowing the presence someone before you were conscious enough to even remember their voice.

he glanced around, slowly coming about. “did something happen?”

you had to keep a smile from spreading across your face—it was creeping up, and you hoped with everything in your body that the darkness would conceal the gradual upturn of your lips. “yeah. come on, it’s important.”

you were turning on your heel before he had a chance to inquire further about the matter, leaving him no choice but to slink out of bed and follow behind you on unsteady feet. he rubbed his eye with the heel of his palm, exhaustion replaced by concern that grew with every pace down the hall. “what? what happened?”

you stopped just before the threshold of the pitch dark living room. finally, you allowed yourself to grin. “you just turned twenty-two.”

you flicked the light on, and there stood Denji and Power along with the cake and the rest of the celebratory trinkets. Aki looked confused for a fraction of a second, but then realization washed over him. his face pinkened slightly and his shoulders tightened, astonished where he stood there still soft with sleep and messy-haired. the irritation drained from him all at once in every subtle way—brows smoothing out, fingers uncurling at his side; the tells of safety dawning on a man prepared for war receiving a family instead of an army; a warm blanket settling over his shoulders instead of the cool weight of armour.

he could not remember the last time anyone had celebrated him like this. a brief oh, happy birthday or straight silence—he never bothered to tell people when it was, really, but he should have figured you would snoop his file—had become customary. now, he was faced with cake and warmth instead of empty rooms and yesterday’s leftovers, and he was unsure how to cope with anything between silence and chaos.

you patted his shoulder, biting lightly down on your lower lip. “happy birthday, Aki.”

“I was put up to this.”

“Denji, shut the fuck up, yeah?” gently curling your fingers around Aki’s wrist, you tugged him along and brought him to sit down at the table. you plopped a rather tacky party hat on him—he huffed and gave you an unimpressed stare but made no argument. he simply could not manage it when his chest felt too warm to let any harsh words pass through and out of his mouth; not when the affection bubbling within filtered out anything less than I love you and I am so grateful for this little family and nobody else has ever made me feel like more than a shell of a man with a sword for a soul. instead of spilling his guts all over the birthday banner, he shut up and tried not to flinch when Power blew a little too aggressively into a streamer.

you parted from him to light the candles then, carefully setting each wick alight before picking it up with steady palms and treading over to the table. the other two took their places as you did so, Denji staring at the baked good with great intensity.

“I think you might actually kill us if we sing,” you said, chuckling while you settled at the table and placed the sweet along with a set of plates and utensils down before each individual sitting down. “we’ll save our vocals for another day. maybe Christmas carols. still, though… make a wish?”

he nearly smiled at that. he seemed to pause, if even momentarily, to consider it. it took him a minute. what would he wish for?

wait. oh.

he blew out the candles. as the steam of extinguished flames floated up into the atmosphere of the room, you plucked them out of the icing with a smile and began cutting the cake. Aki came first by simple tradition, a hefty piece of it set in front of him while he was still partially reeling from the entirety of this ordeal.

though he felt a bit ridiculous sitting here, stupid birthday hat on his head and blowing out candles like he was turning a decade younger than he was, there was something blissfully freeing about the youthfulness of it; when was the last time he had let himself be immersed in something simple—something for him? shamefully, he could not remember when he had last indulged. he had told himself he was content without the simple joys of candles and sparkles and the weight of your hand on his arm lingering long after it retracted.

the four of you ate, Denji and Power more or less scarfing down their pieces between full-mouthed banter. soon enough, the two were passed out, sprawled on the floor; you and Aki remained. you leaned an elbow on the table while the silence stretched, and he turned to you.

“I don’t think eating cake in the middle of the night is very good for your digestive system.”

you smirked. “maybe. had no other choice, though; waking you up at midnight was the best option.”

he raised a brow (though he did look more fond than annoyed, especially considering his rather bold fashion statement placed atop his mussed black hair). “so you wanted to pounce on me while I was vulnerable. you’re sick.”

you stared at him deadpan for just a moment before you could not refrain from laughing. oddly enough, he laughed too. he had nearly forgotten what that felt like. as he pressed his hand to his face and let his body convulse with the noise, it occurred to him that he barely knew what his own laughter sounded like.

you thought it was beautiful.

“whatever you say, Aki,” you managed through a fit of giggles and snorts.

he took a deep breath to compose himself, but the lilt of uncharacteristic joy in his voice lingered at the edges of every word. “this is… ridiculous.” his voice softened then, “…thank you.”

your grin softened at the edges—got warmer. “no big deal.”

he shook his head. “it is. I can’t”—inhale; exhale. his voice dropped to nearly a whisper—“I don’t remember the last time anyone celebrated my birthday like this.”

slowly, your hand crept across the table, pinky linking around his. it was soft; barely even romantic, really, but it had his heart rate kicking up as if you had just professed love in the most devoted of ways. it was not just the hand holding, it was all of it: the cake, the effort, the small, warm party hosted in the dead of night when he was given no time to put a shield up against the fire. instead of burning him, though, it simply warmed his frigid hands, tentatively as he outstretched them. the warmth licked at his face and flickered in his eyes. he wondered then, why had he snuffed it out at all? had he mistaken the very essence of life for the beginnings of a wildfire; what was meant to keep him from shivering under moonlight a tool of mass destruction? perhaps he was foolish to not recognize it from the beginning, for everything needed warmth of some sort. could the moon shine upon Earth without allowing the sun to reach it? could Aki love you as he wished without letting himself know what it felt like at all—discover what it was his goal was, what he wanted to leave you with in the wake of his existence? could his soul call out to yours when he soundproofed every wall erect around it? no. yet he still spent every night listening to that weak, starving thing in his chest scrape at his ribs and long to crawl into yours. it always failed; each bone was barbed.

he had not quite realized until now that the spikes were wearing down to dull bumps, long since renovated; frail things groaning and giving way with every quick beat of his heart. the screams of your name could almost be heard now.

your voice broke through the dull ring of his very being vibrating with emotion, “guess I’ll have to keep it up until you get used to it, then.”

he smiled and huffed out something just short of a laugh. “that’s not necessary, you know.”

“yeah, right.” a glance around. “I also have something for you, but that’s gotta wait until daylight, okay? we should probably sleep.”

he was mildly disappointed by the thought of leaving your line of view, even in repose, but he relented. “yes, it is late.”

you nodded. a beat passed where you hesitated, but decided fuck it and shifted to face him better. Aki barely had time to process the press of your mouth to his cheek before his entire face was turning red and you were shifting to lie down next to Power. “goodnight. happy birthday.”

he sat there for a long while after you had shut your eyes, fingers absently touching the spot on his cheek you had kissed and eyes wide, unblinking as they tried desperately to take in what had just happened. he could still feel his face burning when he exhaled sharply, berating himself internally for being so weak in the face of affection, and lay down himself.

as he fell asleep, he let a leg rest over yours, the gentle weight of presence settling over him like the reassurance this was in fact not a dream. he could have cried from the sheer mass of the contentment he felt, honestly.

“goodnight,” he muttered back, though you were long asleep.

unbeknownst to you, you had made the most shameful part of his birthday wish come true.