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The house he came home to was dark.
Again, that bright cake shop came to mind. There were lots of different cakes inside, and the air was filled with a sweet and warm fragrance. That three-layered coffee caramel cake looked delicious, too.
Should I have bought it, after all? Quatre ponders to himself.
In the soundless dining room, he smiles to himself as he leaves his bag on a chair. Today is a special day, so he wanted everyone to be happy. So he’d told all his servants to take the day off.
And because of that, the long table stands empty.
It’s a bit sad, isn’t it? he mutters, laughing to himself.
He reckons he might as well eat out. He’ll go to his favorite pasta restaurant, then enjoy some coffee in a stylish café after. It’s not that he’s asking for a party as wild as a festival, but he’d at least like to do something to make the day a memorable one.
But then, before he could make a decision, he heard something—soft, leisurely steps coming from the kitchen.
Quatre turns to look that way.
From the dark, a small light slowly approaches. Soon enough, he figures out what it is:
A candle. A single red candle, standing in the middle of a cake laden with fruits. And the man carrying that cake… with those green eyes and his long fringes…
“Trowa…”
On Quatre’s special day, his favorite special person had come.
“Happy birthday to you,” Trowa starts, singing. “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, happy birthday… happy birthday to you…”
Little by little, he’s coming closer, but Quatre could still hardly believe it.
“Trowa… how did you…?”
“‘Cause I love you.”
“Huh?”
Trowa smiles softly.
“I looked up your real birthday. After that, I figured you might not have celebrated it yet. So I went and bought you a cake.”
“Is that right…”
Gradually, Quatre feels a little happier, and his smile grows wider. Even when nobody’s around, Trowa is here.
“Well then, should we make a wish and blow out the candle?”
“No… that won’t work.”
“Why not?”
“‘Cause my wish has already come true,” Quatre tells him, and approaches. “This cake may only have one, single candle on it, but in my heart, it feels like a festival. Trowa, you’ve made me happy. Thank you!”
“Good thing, huh?”
“Yeah!” Quatre laughs.
Finally, he blows out the candle. Trowa leaves the cake onto the tabletop, then envelopes Quatre in a tight hug.
“Happy birthday, Quatre. I’m so glad you were born.”
“Thank you, Trowa. I’m so glad you’re here.”