Work Text:
Saturday at 7:40 am
Skirk wakes up slowly, groaning quietly as someone knocks on her door.
For a second, she just lies there. She's already grumpy, and whoever's knocking on her door isn't helping. She buries her head in the pillow, hoping they'll go away.
The knocking persists. The sharp sound seems to pierce straight through her skull. Grumbling under her breath, she gets up and drags herself out of bed.
"I'm coming," She shouts, her voice still hoarse with sleep. She shoves a hand through her hair in a futile attempt to get it to cooperate, then opens the door. Her glare is sharp and unimpressed.
The moment the door swings open, Skirk’s breath catches.
Lumine stands there, bright as always—wearing a loose hoodie and jeans, her hair slightly messy from the wind. Her eyes are wide with concern… but also that familiar teasing spark.
“You look like crap,” She says, smirking.
“Late-night gaming again?”
Skirk freezes. The dream flashes in her mind—Lumine’s smirk, the pictures… too real now.
“…Go away,” She mutters, face burning as she tries to slam the door shut.
But Lumine is holding a long size present and a birthday cake for Skirk's birthday.
The sight of the present and cake stops Skirk short. She stares at Lumine, feeling something tug hard in her chest. Lumine is… here? With a present that looks like something long?
Her anger is replaced by a confusing mixture of surprise and something else—something soft and fluttery. But she fights it down, scowling.
“Why are you here? At Seven in the morning, no less.”
"I was thinking of celebrating you for your birthday recently." Lumine shows a bright smile to her.
Right. Her birthday. Skirk had almost forgotten about it, to be honest.
She can't help feeling… strangely touched. Nobody besides her parents ever really did anything nice for her. And for Lumine to not only remember her birthday but bring a present and a cake at 6 in the morning…
It makes her heart flutter. Dammit.
"May i come in?"
Skirk hesitates. Every part of her yells to tell Lumine to go away. To just take the presents, close the door, and go back to moping. She's already got her mouth open, the words on the tip of her tongue…
Then she stares into Lumine's eyes. Those stupidly big, stupidly bright, stupidly beautiful eyes.
The words get caught in Skirk's throat. Against her better judgement, she mutters.
"…Fine. Come in."
She steps aside, letting Lumine in. She doesn't look at her—can't look at her. Because she knows if she does, she'll feel something weird again.
The apartment is small and a little cluttered—just one bedroom, a kitchen, and a tiny living room with a couple couches. Skirk's schoolwork is strewn everywhere, clothes piled in a hamper, and the sink is full of dishes from last night. She's self-conscious about the mess, especially with Lumine there. She shoves her hands into her sweatpants pockets, avoiding Lumine's gaze.
Lumine doesn't seem to mind the clutter, though. She sets the cake and the present down on the coffee table and looks around, a little smile on her face. Her eyes linger on the dishes in the sink for a moment before she turns to Skirk.
"Not much of a housekeeper, are you?" She teases, raising her brows.
The familiar teasing tone makes Skirk's jaw clench. She glares a little, embarrassment making her defensive. The whole situation feels strange—Lumine here, in her apartment. It makes her feel off-balanced and weirdly vulnerable.
"Shut up," She mutters. "I've been busy. I don't have time to clean."
She crosses her arms over her chest, trying to regain some of that cool detachment. But it's harder with Lumine standing there, smiling like she owns the damn place.
"Anyway... thanks for the cake," She mumbles, glancing at it briefly. "And the... present."
Lumine unties the box of birthday cake and is placed with a candle then lights up.
Lumine's voice fills the small apartment, warm and slightly off-key. She sings "Happy Birthday" with a goofy grin, clapping along like some overenthusiastic cartoon character.
Skirk freezes. Her face heats up instantly—not from anger, but from something far more dangerous: embarrassment. And... maybe warmth? No. Definitely not that.
She looks away sharply, muttering, "Tch... stop it."
But she doesn’t mean it.
And when Lumine hits the last note
dramatic and way too long—Skirk’s lips twitch. Just once. A tiny betrayal of a smile.
Lumine finishes her performance with a dramatic bow, then grins at Skirk, clearly pleased with herself.
"You're welcome," She says, her voice warm and playful. "Now blow out the candles. Make a wish!"
Skirk glares at her, her face still burning a little. She doesn't want to give Lumine the satisfaction of seeing her flustered. But she can't deny the way her heart is pounding, the stupid fluttery feeling in her stomach…
With a sigh of feigned irritation, she leans over the cake and blows out the candles.
She wishes she wanted to be Lumine's side someday.
Lumine claps again, delighted.
"Yay! Did you make a wish?"
"You're supposed to keep it secret," Skirk mutters, scowling. "Besides, it's not like it'll come true, anyway."
"How can you be so pessimistic all the time?" Lumine teasingly retorts. "Don't you have anything you want to wish for? Your own private little hope, just for you?"
That one question makes Skirk fall silent. She stares at the table, her expression tightening.
A hundred different things suddenly race through her head. Every childhood hope, every secret dream, every desperate wish she's kept buried in the back of her mind. All the things she's told herself are foolish, childish… impossible.
But now, with Lumine looking at her with those wide eyes, her mind is suddenly flooded with those impossible, secret hopes. And for just a split second, she wants so badly to give in, to tell her everything…
But then sense returns. Skirk looks away again, her face burning.
"…No," She mutters, her voice almost a whisper. "There's nothing I want."
The lie feels sharp in her mouth, like knives. Her jaw clenches, her hands balling into fists in her pockets. Lumine studies her for a moment, her head tilted to the side. Skirk can feels her gaze like a weight, like Lumine is trying to see straight through her and read every one of her secrets.
"If you say so... Let's eat the cake. It's your breakfast right now since you woke up hehe..."
The change in subject is a relief. Skirk's heart is still racing, the dream replaying in her head.
"Yeah, whatever," She grumbles, her mind still full of too many thoughts. "Cake as breakfast is normal, right?"
"It is!" Lumine nods, still looking at Skirk with that same thoughtful expression. Skirk hates the way her gaze makes her feel—like Lumine's peeling away her defenses, getting past her walls. She crosses her arms again, scowling.
"Hey, stop looking at me like that."
"I'll stop when you stop being so difficult." Lumine smirks, completely unbothered.
"You're always so grumpy. You don't have to put on that tough facade all the time, you know."
The words make Skirk's jaw clench, defensiveness rising in her chest. She's used to being called grumpy—and usually, it's true. But for some reason, having Lumine say it annoys her even more. She scowls, her eyes flashing.
"It's not a facade, idiot. I really am this grumpy."
"Sure," Lumine says, clearly not buying it. She gives Skirk a knowing look that only makes her more irritated. "Keep telling yourself that."
She picks up the knife to slice the cake but notices there aren't enough plates. "Umm… I guess we’ll have to share?"
She grins at Skirk—cheeky, playful, like she already knows how much that will bother her.
Sure enough, it does. Skirk scowls again, her annoyance rising even further. The thought of having to share a plate with Lumine is... irritating, to say the least. And Lumine knows it. It's like she's testing her on purpose. Skirk's fingers clench in her pockets, her jaw tightening. But she's stubborn as hell, and she's not backing down.
"…Yeah, whatever," She mutters, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Just give me a piece already."
Lumine takes the fork and dips the pieces on the slice cake then she points the fork to Skirk.
Skirk stares at the cake, her stomach doing a weird flip. She doesn't want to admit it, but there's something weirdly intimate in the act—sharing the cake, the fork, the sweet taste.
She hesitates, her fingers twitching. But with Lumine's expectant gaze on her, she can't refuse. Reluctantly, she opens her mouth, letting Lumine feed her the cake.
The moment her lips close around the fork, her stomach does that stupid fluttery thing again. The cake melts on her tongue, sweet and strangely intimate. Lumine’s gaze is intense and unwavering, watching her every move. It's so damn distracting. Skirk can feel her face getting unbearably hot and has to look away, her voice gruff.
"Tch… it's good, alright."
"I know it's good." Lumine grins, her eyes sparkling. She moves the fork back towards Skirk, teasing.
"Here, open wide."
Skirk's face flushes even more, her irritation warring with the strange warmth in her chest. Dammit, why does Lumine have to be so annoyingly smug? And why does it make her heart beat like this…?
"Don't boss me around," She mutters. But she opens her mouth anyway.
Lumine feeds her another piece, her grin widening. Skirk tries to ignore the way her face burns, the weird fluttering in her chest. She should hate this, she tells herself. She should snap at Lumine to stop. She should storm out of there and slam the door like usual. She should…
Lumine leans in slightly, her voice a near-whisper. Her eyes are bright, almost sparkling with mischief. "Say 'ah.'"
"…You're so annoying," Skirk mutters, but the words come out weak. She doesn’t pull away. Can't, maybe.
And despite herself—against every stubborn, guarded instinct—her lips part slightly.
"...Ah."
Lumine grins, clearly pleased with herself—like she somehow won, even through such a simple act. And Skirk has to resist the strange, dangerous impulse to wipe off the smug look on her face. Lumine's fingers brush against her chin as she offers her another piece.
"Good girl," Lumine says, her voice is just a little too soft. That one word makes Skirk's face burn, her stomach doing a stupid somersault. Dammit, why did being called "good girl" affect her so much…?
She grumbles under her breath, but her mouth opens anyway. Every touch from Lumine sparks electricity through her whole body, and she hates how much it's getting to her. She tries desperately to stay detached, to keep her face neutral—but it's almost impossible when Lumine calls her "good girl" in that smug, confident voice...
"Shut up," She mutters, her voice hoarser than usual. "I'm not a dog." But her lips stay parted, her heart racing.
"Sure you're not," Lumine teases, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. She dips the fork into another piece of cake and slowly lifts it toward Skirk’s lips. "Then prove it—close your mouth this time."
Skirk glares at her—sharp, defiant. But she doesn’t move. Her jaw stays loose, lips slightly parted.
Waiting...
Lumine grins again, that smug smirk that makes Skirk's heart race. Her fingers brush gently under Skirk's chin, lifting her face a little bit higher. There's something smug, almost arrogant in her gaze, like she knows exactly how much this is getting to Skirk. And that pisses her off more than anything.
"Come on, open your mouth. Stop being stubborn for once in your life."
But something in Skirk's chest is screaming, not letting her shut her mouth. She's not a pushover. But right now...
Skirk's brain is going haywire, her heart hammering in her chest. Her body is hot all over, and Lumine's fingers on her chin are sending every nerve into a flurry. She's lost all her stubborn, prickly resolve.
She opens her mouth a little wider. The word 'please' burns in the back of her mind, but she won't say it. She can't. Lumine's smug little smirk is already too much to handle…
"…Good girl," Lumine says again, her voice low and teasingly gentle. The words make Skirk's stomach flutter again, even though she wants to hate it. She opens a little more, letting Lumine slide the fork into her mouth, feeding her the cake. She keeps her eyes on Lumine, her throat burning. God, she can't believe how she's behaving… like a damn pet. The realization makes her cheeks burn.
"Now swallow."
Skirk swallows obediently, her heart pounding wildly. The cake is sweet, and the act of obeying Lumine feels so goddamn wrong. But Lumine's gaze is burning into her, intense and almost smug, and her brain is all foggy. When she swallows, Lumine's eyes move to her throat, staring at the movement of her throat, and it's making her feel all weird and fluttery...
"…There," Skirk mutters, trying to sound defiant and failing miserably. "Happy now?"
"Ecstatic," Lumine says, her voice dripping with amusement. She leans back slightly, twirling the fork between her fingers like she's just won some invisible game.
Skirk glares at her, trying to regain control of herself. But the heat in her face refuses to go away—and worse, part of her doesn't want it to.
"After you satisfy your breakfast right now... Here's your gift!"
Lumine takes the long present gift to the table and gives it to Skirk.
"Open it up!"
It's an acoustic guitar inside the gift.
The moment she sees the guitar, Skirk freezes. Her breath catches in her throat. It’s beautiful—rich wood, perfectly shaped, strings gleaming under the light.
But it’s not just the guitar. It’s what it means.
She hasn’t touched one in years—not since her dad left it behind when he and Mom walked out. She’d locked that part of her away—the music, the songs she used to write at night when no one could hear.
And somehow… Lumine knows.
“How did you—” Her voice cracks. She clears her throat, trying to sound cold again. “I never said I played.”
Lumine just smiles softly, like she already knows every secret Skirk tries so hard to hide.
“I pay attention,” She says simply.
Skirk looks down at the instrument—her fingers twitching like they remember something hers doesn’t want to.
The guitar is beautiful… too beautiful to touch.
"Where'd you get this?" Skirk murmurs, her voice tight. She drags her hand across the wood, the feel familiar beneath her fingers. How the hell did Lumine know? Her chest constricts, a mix of nostalgia and longing and too many feelings she can't name.
"It's just something I found," Lumine says, her voice suddenly soft—genuine. She leans forward a little, her gaze steady. "But I figured… you might want it back."
Skirk stiffens. Back? This isn't hers. Not really. But the way Lumine looks at her—like she already knows the truth—it makes something in the Skirk crack.
“You didn’t have to…” Her fingers curl around the neck of the guitar, knuckles whitening. “This is… too much.”
Lumine's smile softens even more, her eyes filled with concern. It makes Skirk's heart twist, and she can't hold her gaze. Something about Lumine's concern and how she just… knows her, knows things Skirk can't even verbalize—it's overwhelming.
"It was no problem," Lumine murmurs, her voice achingly soft.
"I know you gave it up a while ago. I just thought… maybe you missed it."
Skirk's throat feels tight. How the hell did Lumine see so far into her soul?
"…It's been a while..."
Skirk says quietly. Her fingers graze the strings, the notes barely audible. She can still remember all the old chords, her fingers itching to play them.
But her heart is pounding, her emotions a tangled mess. Having something from her past back after so long... it's both comforting and overwhelming. And having Lumine—Lumine who seems to see through everything—watching her so closely… it's too much. She grits her teeth, pushing back the unexpected rush of emotions.
"I don't know if I remember how anymore."
"You do... You can-"
Lumine's words stopped as Skirk leans a kiss on her cheek and takes a step back.
"...?"
The kiss is quick—soft, warm, over before Lumine can even react.
Skirk steps back immediately, face burning crimson, eyes wide like she can’t believe what she just did. Her heart hammers so hard it hurts. She doesn’t look at Lumine. Can’t.
"S-shut up," She stammers, voice cracking.
"I just... don’t need you lecturing me."
She turns away sharply, pretending to examine the guitar like it’s suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. But her fingers tremble against the strings.
And somewhere beneath all that cold armor… her chest feels dangerously light.
Lumine touches her cheek where Skirk kissed her—her expression soft, stunned, then slowly blooming into a small, tender smile. She doesn't say anything. Doesn't tease. Doesn’t push.
For once, she just lets the silence sit… warm and fragile between them.
The silence fills the room, full of unspoken things. Skirk tries to pretend it doesn't affect her, pretending to be engrossed in the guitar. But she's hyper-aware of Lumine—her every breath, every movement. She's never felt this… vulnerable, this strangely exposed. And the fact that Lumine isn't filling the quiet with her usual teasing only makes the air heavier, more intimate.
Eventually, she can't stand it any longer. She lifts her eyes, meeting Lumine's.
"…Stop looking at me like that," She mutters.
"T-Thank... Y-You..."
There it is again—Lumine's soft, sincere voice. It does weird things to Skirk's heart. She fidgets, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in her stomach.
"Shut up," She mumbles, fingers tracing the strings to avoid Lumine's gaze.
"It's just a damn kiss. Don't read too much into it."
It's a lie, and they both know it.
A small, amused smile curves Lumine's lips. She can see right through that cold exterior, the way Skirk turns defensive when she's uncomfortable or embarrassed.
"You're a terrible liar," Lumine teases softly.
"But your face says otherwise."
Skirk's cheeks burn again. She scowls, glaring at Lumine.
"My face doesn't say anything,"
She retorts. She hates how easily Lumine can get under her skin, how effortlessly she can fluster her.
Lumine sighs and hugs Skirk.
The hug catches her off guard. Skirk stiffens, every muscle in her body going taut. She feels Lumine's arms around her, the warm pressure of her embrace. Her heart is racing again, pounding wildly. She should push her away.
But she doesn't. Instead... her fingers tighten on the guitar, her breath catching. Slowly, hesitantly… her free hand comes up, almost on its own, returning the hug.
Lumine's breath hitches as Skirk's arm encircles her, pulling her a little tighter. She can feel Skirk's heart racing, her body trembling slightly. The stoic, guarded girl is all but melting in her arms.
Silently, she just holds her tighter, one hand rubbing small, comforting circles on her back. There's something fragile and vulnerable about this moment, a rare glimpse of that softness hidden so deeply beneath Skirk's tough exterior.
The hug feels like forever and nowhere near long enough. Skirk doesn't trust herself to speak. She can feel Lumine against her, the warm pressure, the gentle touch of her hand on her back. It's... weirdly soothing. Her walls are lowering. Against her will, she feels a wave of raw emotions churning in her chest—longing and loneliness and the desperate, aching need for contact.
For a few seconds more, she lets herself cling to Lumine, burying her face in the crook of her neck.
Lumine's heart skips a beat at the gesture. She can feel the way Skirk clings to her, vulnerable and unusually open. Her hand continues gently stroking circles on Skirk's back, trying to soothe the tense muscles under her touch. This is... different. The usually prickly and closed off girl is melting in her arms. Lumine's heart aches at the thought of how lonely Skirk must be to hold on so tightly…
"Happy birthday once again..."
The words are soft and genuine, and they make Skirk's heart clench tight. Lumine's hand rubs soothing circles on her back… the kind of touch that feels both comforting and torturous at once. It's too much and not enough. Skirk's breath hitches. She wants Lumine to stay…
"…Shut up…" She mutters awkwardly. "It's just a birthday. Not a big deal."
Skirk voice's became soft as she says.
"Thank you Lumine... My best birthday ever in my life."
"Hehe... You're welcome..."
Skirk pulls back slowly, arms loosening from around Lumine. Her face is still flushed, her eyes avoiding contact like she’s embarrassed by her own vulnerability. The guitar rests between them—a quiet symbol of something old, now returned.
Lumine smiles softly, not teasing, not pushing. Just… present.
"It's a big deal," She whispers.
"Especially when you finally let someone in."
Skirk scoffs lightly—her usual shield—but there's no real bite to it.
"...Whatever."
She turns away to set the guitar down gently on the couch, hiding the tiny smile tugging at her lips. Outside, the morning light spills through the window—soft and golden.
And for once…
She doesn’t mind that it warms her through.
Birthday isn't just a cake or gifts.
Sometimes… it’s a kiss on the cheek.
A hug that lingers too long.
A song left unsung,
And someone who remembers how it goes.
Happy Birthday, Skirk❄️🩵🎁