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Jirou pushed her hair behind her ear. “Have you got any plans for your birthday yet? It’s pretty soon, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. And not really,” Momo replied, looking up from the homework sat in front of her. “I don’t think I want a party or anything. I’m not sure what to do. There’s still three weeks or so, I’ll think of something.”
“Hmm,” said Jirou. “What about gifts? Is there anything you want?”
Momo paused and bit her lip. Jirou’s heart hammered behind her ribs; she had to look away. “Not anything you can buy.”
Of course Momo already had everything she wanted. Jirou would have to think outside the box for this. “Not anything?” Jirou persisted.
Momo smiled and twirled the pen in her hands. “Nope.”
-
“Kaminari. Hey, dumbass.” Jirou tugged on Kaminari’s sleeve. He wasn’t even in their realm of reality, let alone listening to her. “Kaminari.” She pinched his arm.
Kaminari blinked at her. “The fuck, dude?”
“Stop staring at Sero. I need… advice.” It physically pained her to say the last word.
“I was not staring,” protested Kaminari.
“Advice,” Jirou repeated, gritting her teeth. She scanned the classroom to make sure no one was looking at them. Mostly, everyone in the class was concentrating on their work. Momo was, at least, which was the most important thing. Jirou pulled her gaze from the back of Momo’s head and her perfect ponytail and back to Kaminari.
Kaminari narrowed his eyes at her. “Why are you asking me? Is this a trick? What’s going on?”
Jirou rolled eyes. “I don’t know what to get Momo for her birthday.”
“I repeat; why are you asking me?”
“I already asked all the girls. They didn’t know either. You think… differently.”
“Huh,” Kaminari replied, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Jirou kicked his leg beneath the table.
“Hey! Do you want my help or not?” Kaminari had a wounded look on his face.
Jirou closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. When she opened them, Kaminari was staring at her expectantly. “Yeah, I do.”
“I’ll have a think about it, then I’ll get back to you.”
“You’ll think about stuff to get, or think about helping me?” Jirou asked. She could never be sure with Kaminari.
“I’m helping you, why do you think so little of me?” Kaminari pouted at her. Jirou shoved her foot into his shin again.
-
Jirou flopped across her bed, spreading her limbs as far as they would go. As it was Saturday, there were now exactly two weeks left until Momo’s birthday and she still didn’t have an inkling of what to get her. Kaminari’s suggestions thus far had been useless. What the hell would Momo do with an electric skateboard? She’d been naive to think Kaminari would be able to help her with this.
All she wanted was to give Momo a gift that conveyed all that she felt without the need to use words. Jirou had become utterly useless with words when it came to Momo recently. Whenever she tried to say anything of worth, her mouth clammed up, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth; all that came out was meaningless garbage and a bad joke to accompany it.
Momo deserved a truly wonderful gift, but Jirou’s brain was failing to co-operate. Jirou rolled over and groaned into her pillow. She took her phone out of her pocket and opened the internet browser for the millionth time this past week. Her history was filled with searches for 'gifts for her' and 'unusual birthday gifts' but none of them had seemed very Momo. What she needed was 'gift for a girl you’ve had a crush on for years but you don’t want her to know you have a crush on her but you still want to give her a great gift'.
She was about to type: best friend gifts' when her phone vibrated with a message, startling her slightly.
Momo <3 [11:07 am]: Do you want to go get some ice cream? (/^▽^)/
Jirou’s lips turned up at the corners before splitting into a smile.
Jirou: [11:08 am]: Sure!!!!
Was that too many exclamation marks? It was too late now. Jirou jumped up off her bed and grabbed her jacket.
-
Jirou met Momo at a little ice cream place not too far from either of them. The sky was clear and the wind not too forceful, so they were able to sit outside with their ice creams and enjoy the view.
A trail of melted ice cream slid down Momo’s cone, she quickly stuck her tongue out to grab it and shrieked when her nose caught in the ice cream scoop on top.
Jirou laughed, licking her own ice cream. “Got a bit on your nose.”
Momo wiped most of it off, but there was still a glaring blob of white on the bridge of her nose. “Did I get it all?” She asked.
Jirou shook her head and leaned forward, grabbing a napkin, and wiped it off herself.
“Thanks,” Momo said almost shyly.
Jirou ignored the heat pooling into her cheeks. “Maybe I should get you a mirror for your birthday.”
Momo laughed lightly; one of the most lovely sounds Jirou had ever had the pleasure of hearing. “That’s sweet, but you really don’t have to get me anything.”
Jirou raised an eyebrow, taking another lick of her ice cream. “But you’re my best friend. I want to.”
“I’m just saying there’s no pressure,” said Momo, wiping yet another trail of ice cream with her finger instead of her whole face this time. Jirou almost wished she hadn’t so that she had the excuse to be close to her face again. “I’ve got you, what else would I ever need?”
-
I’ve got you, what else would I ever need?
The words replayed in Jirou’s head for the rest of the day. As she lay down to sleep, the sincerity of Momo’s words struck her in the heart. She could live with unrequited feelings, but she couldn’t live with Momo not being her best friend.
She hadn’t told anybody how she felt about Momo yet. Not even Kaminari, though with how she had been acting recently, she would be shocked if he hadn’t guessed by now. Then again, he could be pretty dense. There was no telling with him.
Two weeks. She had two weeks to find the perfect gift, and she would be damned if she didn’t.
-
"I've thought of something," said Kaminari.
"Oh?" Jirou replied, doodling absentmindedly on the corner of her exercise book. "That's unusual for you."
Kaminari huffed. "I help you, out of the pure goodness of my heart, and this is the thanks I get -"
Jirou waved him off. "Just tell me your idea." She swallowed back her eagerness to hear what he had come up with. With the time left until Momo's birthday depleting much faster than she would have liked, she was desperate for any idea.
"You should make her something. That way it's personalised and she definitely won't already have it."
"Huh." Jirou rolled the idea over in her mind. It wasn't bad. It was a start. "She likes cake. I could make her a cake."
"That's a great idea!" Kaminari said, snapping his fingers. "You could write her a lovey message in the icing too."
"Shut your face before I shove my foot so far up your ass it comes out of your mouth," Jirou hissed. He wasn't as dense as she originally thought.
"Just a suggestion." Kaminari grinned.
"There's, uh, one problem."
"What?"
"I can't bake for shit." Jirou winced. She looked at Kaminari pleadingly.
"I'm not exactly a master baker either, you know that right?" Kaminari warned her.
"You're better than nothing."
-
Jirou [12:00 am]: BIRTH
Momo <3 [12:00 am]: haha such a heartwarming message
Jirou: [12:01 am]: i know im such a great friend
Jirou: [12:01 am]: happy birthday to the best friend EVER im love u
Momo <3 [12:02 am]: thank you i love you too!!!
-
The morning of Momo's birthday, Kaminari burst into Jirou's kitchen with an armful of cake decorating tools and a wicked smile on his face.
"Let's get started."
Jirou smoothed out the recipe she had printed out on the counter. Earlier that morning, she had dragged her mother to the shop with her to help her buy the ingredients. She'd had no idea there were so many different types of sugar.
Jirou bit her lip. "It says we have to... cream the butter and sugar together? The fuck does that mean?"
Kaminari shook his head. "It just means we have to mix them together, my young grasshopper."
Jirou threw him a glare. She grabbed the weighing scales and poured the amount of sugar the recipe needed. "I'm gonna rot Momo's teeth," she said as she watched the grains pile higher and higher.
"Only with how sweet you are." Kaminari winked.
"I regret asking you." Jirou resisted the urge to flick the sugar at him. Instead, she poured it into the mixing bowl she had already placed on the counter. Next, she added the butter and began to mix them together with a wooden spoon. “Are you just gonna watch?” Jirou asked, her arm already beginning to ache. She nodded toward the flour and the weighing scales.
Kaminari clicked his tongue. “Gotcha.” He reached for the flour and tipped the packet onto the scales, sending clouds of flour up into the air. Jirou coughed loudly.
Twenty minutes later, the kitchen counter littered with patches of flour, sugar, and egg yolk, the cake batter was as smooth as the pair of them could get it, and Jirou slid the batter into the oven.
Kaminari leaned against the counter with a smug look on his face. “Momo’s gonna love it, Jirou.”
Jirou couldn’t hide her smile. “Yeah?”
“Duh. You’ll totally win her over with this.”
Jirou punched his arm. “I’m not trying to win her over, idiot!”
“You learnt to bake just for her! It’s obvious,” Kaminari protested, rubbing his arm.
“Like you can talk, staring at Sero all damn day long!” Jirou countered. Kaminari was not slick in the slightest; she had spotted his ogling eyes a mile away.
Kaminari choked, probably on his spit. “I have never stared at anyone, in my life.”
Jirou cocked an eyebrow.
Kaminari rolled his eyes, sighing loudly. “Fine. I look at him. Sometimes. Occasionally.”
Jirou raised her eyebrow higher. She was glad the attention wasn’t on her for a change, and that it was Kaminari’s cheeks that were burning instead of her own. “I can’t believe you like a guy who still has emo hair.”
“It looks good on him!”
“Whatever you say - can you smell that?” Jirou sniffed the air, the scent of smoke hitting her nostrils forcefully. Kaminari sniffed too; his eyes widened.
“What temperature did you put the oven on?”
Jirou scrambled for a tea towel. “I don’t know!”
“It’s on way too high!”
Jirou pulled the oven open; puffs of black smoke erupted into her face. She coughed again and pulled the cake tin out. Her heart sank. The top was blackened. “Damn it,” she said quietly.
“We can still save it,” Kaminari reassured her, pointing to the decorations he brought with him.
“Not if it tastes disgusting!” Jirou snapped, slamming the tin onto the table. She exhaled loudly. “It’s probably raw in the middle.”
Kaminari stuck a knife into the centre of the cake, surprisingly, it came out clean. “See, it’s fine.”
Jirou felt a slight wave of relief. “Give me the icing.”
-
Jirou walked to Momo’s house with the cake carefully in her hands. The cake was clumsily decorated; the icing had been a little too runny and her hands had shaken as she wrote the message. The message was still legible, though: happy birthday to the bestest friend ever !!
Not quite the message Jirou truly wanted to tell Momo, but it was something at least.
Jirou’s mouth was dry as she approached the driveway to Momo’s house. The voices from inside were loud enough for her to hear even from this distance; no doubt Momo had family visiting her. Why hadn’t she texted in advance?
She swallowed thickly, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.
A few moments passed, then the door opened and Momo appeared. She looked a little tired, but as soon as she saw Jirou, a smile spread across her face.
Jirou felt a smile appear on her own face too. “Happy birthday.” She held out the cake for Momo. “I’m sorry it’s not much, and it burnt, a little - Kaminari’s fault, not mine - I didn’t know what to get you - “
Momo waved her off and took the cake into her arms. “No, I love it. Thank you.”
Jirou wet her lips with her tongue. “There’s something else I want to give you.” Jirou took a step closer and placed a kiss onto Momo’s cheek. Immediately, heat flushed into her face. Momo blinked at her. Jirou wasn’t sure if Momo looked star struck or if it was just her wishful thinking.
“Th-thank you,” Momo replied. “I… have something I want to give you too.”
Jirou furrowed her eyebrows. “Huh? But it’s your birthday, you didn’t have -”
Momo face drew closer to hers, and then suddenly her lips were on hers too, the cake squashed between them. Jirou’s legs shook beneath her. When Momo pulled away, Jirou’s face was overheating.
“How is my gift supposed to live up to that?” Jirou squeaked out.
“You’ll think of something,” Momo replied.