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“Happy Birthday, Clyde!”
Clyde Donovan didn’t stop his friends from pushing his head towards the cake. The familiar stickiness of the cream and the smell of chocolate invaded his senses. Regardless of the mess on his face and clothes, he laughed as he pulled his head back. He couldn’t see those around him, but he knew they were taking pictures. He was given a wet towel, and he hurriedly wiped away the cake from his face; not before swiping his thumb over his cheek and tasting the delectable whip cream.
The first person he saw was Mrs. Tucker who had a beaming look on her face. She was undoubtedly proud that he continued to celebrate his birthday based on the tradition from her home country. Next to her was the looming figure of Mr. Tucker who looked more eager to eat a slice of cake than anything else.
His gaze shifted to the next set of parents. Mrs. Black was taking photos on her phone and was encouraging the rest of his friends to huddle close for another group photo. Mr. Black was coming back with more towels, and they caught each other's eyes. He smiled and said, “Alright! Let the boy breathe!”
He felt someone ruffling his hair and without looking, he knew it was his dad. Somehow, he made his way to his side, and he heard Mrs. Black’s exclamation of “Smile for the camera now!” He had little time to wrap his arm around his dad’s neck and pull him in, purposely smearing the leftover whip cream on his cheek on his, before flashing a broad grin.
“Clyde!” his dad groaned, but he was smiling as he wiped away the cream.
“A-Alright, move out of the way.”
“Sorry, sorry!” Clyde stepped to the side and gestured to the cake. “I forgot disabled people go first.”
Jimmy shot him a grin and said, “You bet we d-do!” and didn’t hesitate to get the biggest slice.
“Are you hurt?” Clyde turned to Tweek. As they grew older, Tweek shot up in height. He was no longer thin, but healthier with flushed full cheeks with a bit of weight on him. Despite the massive changes his body had gone through, he was still anxious and fretted over the smallest of things.
“Naw, man,” reassured Clyde and ruffled his hair. Tweek was also the youngest of the group, and Clyde never forgot to remind him of his hierarchical status. “You should get some cake before Mr. Tucker eats the rest,” he whispered and Tweek giggled.
“You’re calling my dad fat, dick?” Craig draped an arm over Tweek’s shoulder and pulled him close. Clyde begrudgingly admitted around middle school that Craig was officially the tallest from the group—maybe their whole class. Despite the sudden popularity he gained from his physical features—puberty was kind to Craig Tucker, that asshole—he still remained the dorky boy that Clyde knew since they were in diapers.
“I mean…” Clyde yelped when Craig punched him on the shoulder, but they both grinned when they saw Mr. Tucker sneakily taking his second slice.
“I don’t blame him,” said a new voice, coming up behind them. “It’s tres leches. Isn’t that his favorite too?”
“Yup.” Clyde eagerly reached out for his boyfriend’s hand and squeezed it. Tolkien returned the gesture and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. He immediately reeled back and made a face. “You didn’t wash your face, did you?”
“Nope.”
“No wonder why it’s sticky.”
“Not as sticky as it’s going to get later on tonight.” Clyde cackled at Craig gagging and Tweek turning an alarming shade of dark red.
“Nice one, C-Clyde!” shouted Jimmy from his spot on the table.
“Let’s go, babe.” Craig flipped him off, and Clyde flipped him right back.
“Come outside with me for a bit?” asked Tolkien.
Instead of answering, Clyde pulled him to the backyard.
For his 18th birthday, Clyde couldn’t have asked for anything better. His birthdays became difficult to celebrate after the passing of his mom. Up to the age of twelve, he looked for her among his friends and family and not seeing her smiling face or hearing her charming laugh always left him feeling down and depressed by the end of the day. Going through the motions of teenagehood and becoming a legal “adult” really put into perspective that she was never going to magically appear no matter how much he wished for it. Now, he simply enjoyed being in the company with the ones who wanted to be with him.
Clyde didn’t notice that Tolkien already spread out a blanket, and his chest constricted with the untamed feelings he had for the man beside him. They started dating towards the end of junior year. Clyde realized that the deep feelings he harbored for his best friend were no longer platonic, but something much more intense—more wanting, needy. He never knew that Tolkien was feeling the same way, and it took three months to come to the realization of how the other felt (or, as Craig called it: “The Three Months of Pining”).
Once they settled down, Clyde placed his head on Tolkien’s chest and relished the fast beating of his heart. It felt nice to know how much his presence still affected Tolkien after a year of being together.
“You heard anything back yet?” he asked, deciding to break the peaceful silence.
“No. You?”
“Nope.”
Clyde snuggled closer and cursed at himself for bringing up a topic that was a heated debate between the two. Graduation was just around the corner and, with it, the reality of moving forward. Whether it was out of town or across the state, it became a pressing issue between them. Clyde knew that Craig and Tweek were going through something similar, but they intimately knew how their relationship worked. Clyde was still getting used to Tolkien being his. How could they work it out if the possibility of it not working out was also on the table?
He hated to think about it, but the idea of Tolkien ending their relationship frightened him. He didn’t want to lose him.
“You know, I got you something.”
Clyde groaned and sat up, staring down at his smiling boyfriend. “I said not to get me anything!”
Tolkien rolled his eyes. “I know, but you’re my boyfriend.” He sat up and cupped his cheek. Despite his earlier complaint, his thumb caressed him, and it left tingles on his skin. “I’m allowed to spoil you whenever I want.”
It was Clyde’s turn to roll his eyes, but he couldn’t help the little wiggle of excitement of receiving a gift from the man he loved—liked.
The man he liked. Yeah.
“Okay, fine. What is it?”
Tolkien got up and went over to the trunk of the tree. He came back with two small boxes. They were neatly wrapped with a pretty bow on top of them.
“Open this one first.”
Clyde eagerly ripped it apart and opened it to reveal a watch. He picked it up and inspected it. It looked just about as any other normal watch, and Clyde noticed it had a gold case with a black leather strap.
“Thanks?” He didn’t want to sound disappointed, but he was sure he wasn’t able to hide it that well.
Instead of looking upset, Tolkien wordlessly put it on him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a similar looking watch. After latching it onto his wrist, he told him, “At the count of three, press down on the crown.”
Clyde furrowed his brows, but Tolkien gave a pointed look at the watch. Clyde readed his finger over it, and once Tolkien said three, they both pushed it down.
“Don’t let go,” Tolkien warned, and Clyde heard a beep before the case glowed white before it dimmed. “Thank god it worked.”
“Tolkien, what the fuck is this?” Out of curiosity, Clyde pressed the crown.
Tolkien’s watch glowed white before it also dimmed. Tolkien let him try it out a few more times before he spoke up, “Every time we’re apart and you miss me, all you have to do is press this,” Tolkien pressed the crown from his watch, and Clyde’s watch glowed white, “to let me know.”
Clyde’s eyes were instantly filled with tears. “I…” It was such a little thing, this watch. There was something tying him to Tolkien now. Something physical. He pressed the crown again, and watched as Tolkien’s watch glowed. He did it again and again.
“Dude!” laughed Tolkien and grabbed his hand to stop him from pressing it. “I don’t know if the battery runs out.”
“But I’m missing you,” he blurted and felt his cheeks burn from how corny it sounded.
Tolkien’s brown eyes twinkled, and he leaned in. It wasn’t their first kiss but just like the first time they shared one, it still left him breathless and wanting more. All too soon, Tolkien pulled back, and Clyde blinked several times to ground himself back on Earth.
“I’m here, Clyde, I’m here.”
Clyde pulled him into a hug and took the opportunity to inhale his scent. He was wearing that cologne that left his knees weak but, underneath it, Clyde could smell his natural musk. Something that was entirely Tolkien Black. Clyde wouldn’t have let go of his boyfriend if he didn’t see the last remaining gift.
“So…”
Tolkien handed him the gift. Clyde ripped the poor thing apart and carefully lifted the lid. Cushioned among decorative tissue paper, was a necklace. As he lifted it up, the lights from the porch refracted from the pendant causing the stone to shine a brilliant shade of multiple colors. Clyde instantly recognized it as his birth stone.
“Tolkien, wow, I-I don’t know what to say.” The overwhelming feeling of love that he felt earlier grew in size. He could feel the beginning of a tremor overtaking his body, but he held strong. Just as he was about to pull Tolkien in for a passionate kiss—which he hoped would lead to a heavy makeout session—Tolkien stopped him with a raised hand.
“Open it. It’s a locket.”
After some trial and error, Clyde managed to open it. On one side it was a photo of a man. It was hard to tell who it was from the limited amount of light he had, but Clyde was able to recognize a few key features. For one, the man was young with brown hair stylishly combed. He had a smile though it was small and almost shy. The one thing that stood out was the 80’s style glasses he was wearing.
“Is that my dad?!” shrieked Clyde. “How did you get this?!”
Tolkien shrugged. “I have my ways.”
Clyde glanced at the other side, and his smile dropped. It was another photo, but it was a younger looking woman. Her long, brown hair was tied back in a high ponytail. Her smile was far larger than his dad’s, and he noticed the twinkle of juvenility in her hazel colored eyes. Even after so many years, Clyde would never forget his mom’s face.
“How did you get this?” His voice trembled, and he tried his best to blink back the tears clouding his vision.
Tolkien scooted closer and wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close. “I know how hard it’s going to be for you to move away from here, from your house.” Clyde continued to stare at the locket, feeling himself wanting to get pulled in by the spiral of his emotions, but Tolkien’s words were like an anchor, so he held on. “So, just like how you’ll have a piece of me everywhere you go,” he held up his wrist, and the watch glimmered like a beacon in the dark, “you’ll have a piece of your parents with you too.”
“Oh,” he choked out. “Th-that’s nice.” He held it up for Tolkien to take, and he felt his boyfriend put it on him. The pendant sat heavy on his chest, but Clyde knew it was going to become a familiar weight. He was never going to take it off.
He turned to his boyfriend who gazed at him with pinched brows. “I know you don’t really like talking about your mom but…” Clyde continued to stare at him, and he saw Tolkien falter, “Sorry if I overstepped a boundary! I just thought—”
Clyde didn’t lunge at him, didn’t roughly pull him in for a kiss. Instead, he leaned in and pressed his lips against his. Once, twice, three times. He dragged his lips to Tolkien’s cheeks and pressed several kisses to one side then the other.
“Thank you,” he said and this time he didn’t stop the sob that came out. “Thank you, Tolkien. Thank you, thank you.”
Even when Tolkien pulled him into a hug, and Clyde buried his face against his chest, he kept mumbling his thanks. Even through his tears and snot, he didn’t stop because, truly, how could someone like Clyde deserve someone so kind, so thoughtful, so loving, like Tolkien?
“Clyde, you don’t need to say thank you,” said his boyfriend. His voice sounded raspy like his throat went dry. He felt his gulp, and Clyde knew that Tolkien was fighting back his own tears. He wasn’t a crier in front of other people, but behind closed doors, when the situation called for it, Tolkien didn’t shy away from expressing his emotions.
“I love you,” said Clyde. Instead of feeling mortified or terrified, he felt like a weight got lifted off his shoulders. “I love you so much, Tolkien. I love you, I love you.”
Tolkien hugged him tighter, pulled him closer, and pressed a fervent kiss on his forehead.
“I love you too, Clyde.”
Under the starry sky of South Park, with a sticky face of tears and whip cream, Clyde wrapped himself around the love of his life, his best friend, and his boyfriend, and in between them were the best gifts Clyde had ever received in his 18 years of life.
“Happy birthday, Clyde.”