Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

His legs had felt heavy all day, his breath slightly cold.

Frozen even.

A pair of ugly dark circles stood out under his eyes— completely drowsy— drunk from tiredness.

— c00lkidd hadn’t stopped crying all night.

He had offered to take care of him.

He had to—

Seven also deserved quiet, warm nights.

So...

He let himself fall onto the bed.

Peacefully.

Surrendering to the warm blankets and sheets.

It was warm.

Not warm enough.

But it felt good.

He finally had a break.

And even though he was slightly uncomfortable, hunched in a corner, he made it work.

Sleep covering him in a drowsy and tentative layer.

He needed nothing more than its fleeting, embracing warmth.

But then, before he could fully give in.

When his eyelids were already closing, almost painfully—

He felt it.

Seven—looking at him with that dumb ear-to-ear smile, offering a comfortable space around his neck.

Maybe as a silent thank-you for his selfless help.

If he had been a bit more aware, he probably would have refused.

They were friends, it was the least he could do for him but…

..in the dreaminess of the moment, he couldn’t say no.

He took the space as if it had always been meant to be his.

He absorbed his soft scent of cheap perfume and let himself be carried away by fatigue.

The last thing he remembers from that night is Seven’s crooked smile, as he gently stroked his head like a rabbit someone is especially fond of.

Chapter Text

He had studied all day.

A shitty birthday, like all the others.

For now, his only company would be the clacking of old keys and the screen’s light burning his eyes.

He sighed.

The laptop slid between the wrinkled old blankets.

He didn’t pay it any mind.

It had been weeks like this.

Trapped in a career he hated—medicine—and even though he should be happy to have such a bright future...

That wasn’t the path he wanted.

And because of that, he had done what was probably the biggest idiocy—or the biggest success—of his life.

Lying to his parents.

But as they say, lies never last forever.

At least none of the ones he’s told.

So now his parents hated him.

Noli still remembered their words.—

—This is the least you can do for us, Noli.

They hadn’t called him son.

Not anymore.

And they’d repeated it, over and over... and over.

Or maybe it was just his imagination playing tricks on him—as usual—repeating their words like a broken record, injecting their speech straight into his brain like a virus destroying every dream.

But he didn’t hate them for it, it was the least he could do for them.

—Mistakes go to hell. Just like your father, Noli.

It was the least he could do.

And he would do it again.

He stood up.

Stretched his arms.

And the door burst open.

Almost like a squeaky, annoying bell, forcing him to get up again.

Or rather; fall face-first.

"I'm back, the best friend you could ever have!"

He announced, still with one leg between the entrance and the door.

His gaze lowered.

And he laughed.

He really laughed.

He didn’t stop for a second.

Even if it wasn’t that funny.

The worst part—he didn’t even help him up—he just made room beside him; as if he weren’t pathetically lying on the floor, wrapped like a strange burrito in blankets and a half-open laptop pointed right at his face.

At this point, he was going to go blind from that damn light.

“So then,”

He began, still with that trademark knowing smile that always followed him, while he adjusted his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose.

Noli just snorted.

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to say it, I know it wasn’t thaat funny.”

One of his hands was placed solemnly on his chest, while the other rose to the level of his head.

Almost like a strange oath.

“It’s fine, it doesn’t matter.”

Too quiet.

Too drained.

It really didn’t matter much.

Seven looked almost surprised.

Normally he would’ve yelled at his face.

“Anyway, since it’s your birthday—”

He went on, maybe a bit too cheerfully, pulling from his pocket—almost magically—a small muffin with a candle.

Almost delicious.

Almost appetizing.

Still, he refused to show anything but skepticism.

“What?”

“Nothing,”

Noli replied instantly.

Seven looked him up and down, clearly a bit annoyed—just a bit

“So, are you going to light the candle?”

He didn’t reply.

Unsure whether to look at the small chocolate muffin or his strange roommate.

When he caught his annoyed gaze, he knew the answer; he should definitely look at the muffin.

“Well, since I have to do everything for you…”

The old lighter slid down his sleeve, almost sadly, into his rough hands.

He played with it for a few seconds, sliding it between his fingers, before lighting it with a sure motion.

And almost like a bad habit; the spark jumped beautifully from the tip, lighting up his face in a soft orange glow.

He lit the crooked candle.

And there were no cheers, no yelling.

Just blue smoke he bitterly inhaled, making him cough awkwardly, falling again, undoing the burrito of blankets.

If he were asthmatic, he’d be dead by now.

Only an idiot would come up with something like that.

And that idiot was laughing shamelessly, almost like an animal.

It was loud, shameless—not with malice—more like an idiot who knows he is one.

“Gender reveal candles instead of normal birthday candles? That’s really low, even for you.”

Seven didn’t pay real attention to the comment at first, dedicating all his focus to his crooked burger before replying;

“What can I say? I do what any average college student can afford to do—they were on sale.”

That finally caught his attention.

His mask twisted.

“What?”

Seven rolled his eyes in response.

Even under those stupid glasses, his smug attitude didn’t go unnoticed.

He clicked his tongue before speaking.

“Maybe I bought them on discount along with a couple of pregnancy tests.”

Not a hint of remorse in his voice.

Not a single one.

Just a shameless smile.

“You’re telling me…”

Voice trying to be calm, hands on knees, attitude attempting to be serious—a mirrored reflection of Seven’s comedic and carefree energy—

“...that instead of buying a real cake you bought two pregnancy tests and gender reveal candles?”

Seven blinked once.

Twice.

Three times, even.

“Exactly.”

He smiled again.

As if he had discovered gunpowder.

Proud of it.

“Wanna see if they work?”

And for some reason, this time, Noli laughed.

Loudly, maybe a bit shamelessly.

Seven smiled in return—something crooked and affectionate—maybe with pride or just out of habit.

“Screw it, why not? Let’s do it.”

The smoke swirled beautifully above them, because, although it was sour to smell, it was beautiful to admire.

Seven noticed, giving him a twisted smirk.

Noli just sighed at the sight.

“Thanks, Seven.”

It was honest.

It was real.

It was enough to make him hide a small smile under his rough, torn sleeve.

“Are you thanking me for eating your muffin or for making you take a pregnancy test in the men’s bathroom?”

But he didn’t deny it, just laughed softly.

Maybe too softly.

“For everything.”

And Seven snorted, brushing off the gesture.

“Don’t get sentimental.”

He started, dismissing the cigarette with a rough flick.

“I just thought it’d be fun, you know?”

His only reply was a laugh, almost melancholic.

A little quieter than the usual loud ones that had filled the past few hours.

His voice cut off.

Seven noticed.

Seven didn’t say anything about it.

Even though he tried, he failed.

He just yawned.

Ready to go.

But Noli was faster.

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

He only huffed, feeling caught.

"It's nothing, it’s just that..."

Silence.

Raw and uncomfortable.

Seven broke it with his answer.

“Why did you leave performing arts?”

He hadn’t really asked.

Noli would’ve liked him to.

It would’ve been… nice.

Really nice.

Instead, the evening ended with trivial chats, affectionate jabs, and laughter that seemed like it would never stop being funny.

He can’t remember any more dialogues besides that.

Too trivial to keep.

He would’ve liked to keep them.

So why didn’t he?

He’s not sure.

He just knows it was a good birthday.

Happy ██th, Noli.