Work Text:
Chihiro's first birthday is something he doesn't remember. Most people don't. But, there are photos. There were photos. He remembers one of them distinctly, hanging in an old metal frame in his dad's bedroom. Chihiro is in his father's arms roughly in the center of the shot, a bit of frosting smudged on his nose from his birthday cake. His dad has the biggest smile on his face, so caught up in Chihiro that he doesn't see Shiba or Azami behind him with matching mischievous grins, obviously about to smash the cake on top of his head. Chihiro misses him.
...
None of his birthdays really stand out. Most are just Chihiro and his father- maybe Shiba or Azami would stop in, but he really only remembers the ones of just the two of them. His tenth birthday stands out- his dad insisted on going big. He was hitting double digits after all. Chihiro thinks back fondly on the memory; Kunishige had tried to make a cake. Tried. Chihiro remembers waking up early from the fire alarm. The smell of burning wafts through the house as he makes is way to the kitchen. He ends up helping with the second one.
...
His first birthday without his dad was bad. The next two are even worse. Despite Shiba's best efforts, Chihiro doesn't even want to think about his birthday. It's one of the days he always tries to spend alone- the other two are his dad's birthday and the the anniversary of his death. Shiba tries not to worry, but Chihiro can always see how concerned he is. His 18th birthday comes and goes like a bittersweet wave crashing against his body. He wonders how over the top his dad would have been. He spends the day watching goldfish swim around him.
...
Hakuri doesn't learn about Chihiro's birthday until the week before. He doesn't even hear it from Chihiro, it's Shiba who warns him: Chihiro likes to be alone on his birthday. It's not something he understands. He spent his childhood birthdays being pampered with sweets and attention. Then all of a sudden, it stopped; he was spending them alone, sitting in his room, tears rolling down his face until years later when he became numb to the loneliness. His first birthday with Chihiro's group was a dream come true- he never felt more loved. He wanted Chihiro to feel the same.
...
August 11th comes along and Hakuri finds himself outside Chihiro's bedroom door. He knocks twice, announces that it's him, and waits. Chihiro opens the door minutes later. He doesn't look mad at Hakuri for bothering him. No, he looks sad; his eyes are pink and puffy and his cheeks are wet with hastily wiped away tears. Hakuri offers him company. Chihiro, surprisingly, lets him in. They sit together on his bed, Chihiro's head rests on Hakuri's shoulder as they watch the goldfish swim around the air. Hakuri doesn't say anything about the tears, instead he intertwines their fingers, squeezing gently.